#years of being shoved into the girl box made me bitter

[funbonded]

@jammedmuses​​​ counted:

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧

"Hey Fred?" Millie enters the workshop, her usual goth outfits and jewelry currently exchanged for a thick sweater (still with lots of purples of course,) holding something currently wrapped. "Looks like this Christmas will be quieter; too much snowing out there, relatives won't be able to drive through. I guess it'll be just you, me, Grandpa and Annabel Lee. Still a... fine number, though."

Counting outside family, she's not expecting anything from anyone; Besides if they got her anything it'd probably be a passive-aggresive gift anyways just to make themselves look good. At least she's exempt from the expectations of having to get them gifts in return. Why gift someone you know that they dislike you, right? It gives her room to focus on who she actually wants to get something for.

Judging by the wrapped package she brought, looks like Funtime Freddy was one of them.

"I haven't engaged a lot the past few years' Christmas. At most, me and Hannah would exchange gifts but that was it." There's a tiny bitterness to Millie's voice at the mention of her ex-friend, but she quickly shoves it aside. "Of course, that didn't happen last year. And won't this year either. But it's whatever. I wanted, though, to get something for Grandpa and my cat... and you too. Yours is here."

While getting close to Funtime Freddy could be considered a gamble, she mustered enough resolve to approach where she could place the wrapped package onto the bear's lap, which turned out to be a gift box, in a lavender wrapping and a silky white ribbon lacing it. Inside had actually two separate gifts. One being a sculpture of an human skull with the top flat and open allowing it to be used as a candle holder, or a plant pot, or anything of that nature. The other was a miniature box shaped and decorated like a coffin, meant to keep in trinkets, though currently it was filled with assorted candies.

Millie subtly fidgetted with the collar of her sweater. "Uh. I'm sorry if they're not exactly up your alley, I'm still kind of out of practice when it comes to gift-giving people besides Hannah. But I still wanted to try getting you a bit of a merry Christmas." [Jammedmuses from Millie. HAPPY CHRISTMAS]

Worn  metal,  though  thanks  to  the  Fitzsimmons  it  was  in  far  better  state  than  it  had  been,  the  withered  panda  animatronic  has  been  here  for  quite  sometime.  Still.The  year  had  done  wonders.  He  more  than  looked  forward  to  the  frequent  visits  from  the  house  to  the  workshop  made  by  the  very  girl  he  had  attempted  to  murder  sometime  ago.  On  this  very  day  even.

He  leaned  forward  as  the  door  creaked  open  and  the  sound  of  Millie’s  voice  followed  through.   ❝ Ah!  Well  that  is  good  news,  lambchop  !  Why  usually  with  all  that  excitement  I’m  almost  besides  myself  !  ❞  He  prattles.  He  made  note  of  her  ‘festive  attire’.  Honestly  he  did  enjoy  all  the  dark  purples.  In  that  sense  they  were  one  in  the  same,  despite  his  former  teasing.   ❝  Just  us  this  Christmas  then!❞    He  leaned  back,  metal  creaking  as  he  got  comfortable.  Somehow  he  felt  part  of  the  Fitzsimmons  clan,  without  even  Millie’s  Grandfather  knowing  the  animatronic  in  his  workshop  could  dispense  the  greatest  knowledge  of  medieval  history  and  recite  the  instructions  of  torture  instruments  from  those  respected  times.  Of  course  it  was  also  a  bonus  considering  same  animatronic  HAD  tried  to  behead  his  granddaughter.  

A  scoff  from  his  speaker. ❝ I  told  you,  Cupcake!  You  don’t  need  that  Hannah.  She’s  a  waste  of  your  precious  time!  Time  you  could  be  spending  on  me!  Your  best  friend  Funtime  Freddy,  hm-?❞  His  gloating  was  cut  short  as  he  finally  noticed  the  little  gift  in  her  hands.  Oh,  Millie.  Silly  Millie.  Getting  so  buddy,  buddy  with  her  former  tormentor  that  she  got  him  a  gift?

Funfred  doesn’t  mock  her  though.  If  anything  he’s  a  little  too  surprised  for  that.  ❝ IYou  got  ME  a  gift?❞   He  accepts  the  little  thing  into  his  big  hand,  oddly  gentle  for  a  murderous  animatronic.  It  was  true  he  no  longer  posed  a  threat  to  Millie  nor  had  the  insensitive  to  kill  her.  Or  harm  her  at  all  actually.  It  was  Funfred  who  got  riled  up  whenever  he  heard  Millie  was  getting  bullied  at  school.

He  unboxed  the  skull  first,  holding  it  up  and  admiring  it  in  his  only  hand.  ❝ Millie... ❞      He  didn’t  get  to  finish  the  sentence  as  he  admired  the  beauty  of  the  sculpt.  Then  he  carefully  placed  it  to  the  side  of  him  and  checked  the  next  gift.  A  coffin  shaped  box.  After  drinking  it  in  for  a  second  his  head  snapped  to  the  girl’s  voice.  He  guffaws.  

✟  Ƒ  Ƒ｡✟  ❝ MILLIE!  These  are  EXACTLY  up  my  alley,  Silly  Millie!  Why  you  know  me  so  well  I’m-! ❞    Overwhelmed  actually.   ❝ Overcome! ❞    His  bowtie  span  in  delight.  ❝ I  love  them! ❞      

In  fact.  ❝ I  have  my  own  gift  for  you  too. ❞    He  seemed  nervous  actually.  What  was  he  talking  himself  into?  He  feigned  clearing  his  throat  as  he  stood  as  best  as  his  rickety  legs  would  allow.  He  stood  there  a  moment  before  gaining  the  courage  to  begin.

❝ Sleigh  bells  ring,  are  you  listening In  the  lane,  snow  is  glistening A  beautiful  sight We're  happy  tonight Walking  in  a  winter  wonderland ❞  

A  familiar  song  but  the  way  his  shrill,  rough  yet  inconsistent  tones  recited  the  lyrics  gave  the  song  a  more  gothic  feel  to  it.  

[pars-ley]

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 

[crescentsteel]

Burns

pairing: Suna  x f!reader genre: fluff with slight angst (childhood friends to lovers) wc: 3.8k summary: you planned to confess to Suna on Valentines day. Unfortunately for you, he finds the holiday stupid.

[a/n]

Did this in one sitting, brain went zoom zoom

Not really comfortable writing for Inarizaki for some reason. Suna and Miya twins stans, don’t come for me. 

Thank you @tokyosdawn​, @luvnami​, @fayeiparis​ (my ride or die ily) for the betaread. 

ngl. I almost wrote smut after the fluff 

Happy Valentines Day! 🖤

This is it. This is the day. 

You’re finally going to confess to Suna. 

You have been close friends for so long, and for the whole duration of it, you have tried your utter best to feel only as such. 

You became friends with the rest of the Inarikazi team because you were always present in every game, with you being the loudest person to cheer for Suna leading everyone to pester him until he introduced you to them. Knowing Suna, he wasn’t fazed by his team’s persistent request and never mentioned to you that the team wanted to meet you. 

It had been Atsumu that day who approached you during lunch break saying that Suna asked him to ask you to attend their practice after class. 

You’ve been asking him non-stop if he can come watch them practice but he strictly prohibited you from going to the gym at all, so you were thrilled that he finally let you watch.. only to find him unpleasantly surprised that you were there. 

Apparently, the whole team thought you were dating. As much as you wish you were, you could only agree with Suna when he said you were just a long-time friend. 

But that changes today. Hopefully. 

You already know what confessing to him means, and you’re not ready to lose Suna as a friend in case this doesn’t work out. However, with the  both of you being third years already, it was now or never. You keep asking him what his plans after graduation are and he’s infuriatingly very consistent with his answer - a shrug and an apathetic ‘dunno.’

While you’re not ready to lose your friendship, you’re probably going to after high school — which is why you spent almost all of your allowance to buy ingredients to make homemade chocolate. It’s not actually that it’s expensive — you wasted so much ingredients making them that you ended up having enough for only three pieces. 

But you’re satisfied because they were of three different designs. Three cute fox-shaped chocolates of different colors. They weren’t perfect but you tailored them according to Suna’s taste - just mildly sweet so he can actually enjoy it.

You smile into the February air. 

You really aren’t sure about his feelings for you, but you know that you’re special to him. 

You’re his only female friend and despite his aloofness, he actually spends time with you outside of school. It was you who he spent New Year’s with. He celebrates your birthday even if you know he’s not really into that kind of stuff. He walks you home when you stay late from club activities. 

Being his friend since elementary school, you know he’s not the kind of guy to be nice to someone just for the sake of being nice. 

So instead of dreading for your confession, you’re actually excited. 

On your way to your first class, the chaotic twins block your path with a mischievous grin from both of them, except Atsumu’s way too obvious and upfront about it. 

“So, y/n. Anything for me?” Atsumu asks as he cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“Why would she give you any, idiot?” Osamu glares at Atsumu before turning to you with a smirk that makes you wary for some reason. “When she’s obviously giving them to Suna,” he adds.

You try to not look affected at his spot-on statement, but shit, you can already feel your heartbeat just a bit faster. Are you that obvious?

“Don’t you have hoards of shit from other girls? Why the hell are you ganging up on me?” you ask instead of answering Osamu’s speculation. 

“I want to show them to Suna during practice. His pretty little childhood friend givin’ me homemade chocolates,” Atsumu teases animatedly. 

Your eyes widen from what he said. “Wait, how did you know they were homemade?” 

The two give each other meaningful looks before Osamu leans down a bit on you. “So there really are chocolates, huh?”

You go rigid when you realize you’ve exposed yourself to these two. Shit, they’re going to tease you non-stop about this. Worse, they might tell Suna before you even get the chance to do it yourself. 

“Those are some burns on your hands, y/n. Have you treated those properly?” Atsumu eyes your hand that accidentally touched the hot pan yesterday. You tug the sleeves of your uniform lower to cover the purple-pinkish marks. 

“I’m going to be late for class, bye,” you abruptly bid goodbye and hurriedly escape from the two. God knows what else they’ll get from you if you stay longer. 

--

You erase your encounter with the twins from this morning. You can’t buckle down now. You worked hard for this day, both in body and in spirit. You’ve already had more than a fair share of doubts and second thoughts up until last night when you successfully pushed any cynicism away. 

You won’t back down, especially when Suna is just a seat away from you now. 

“Got any chocolates yet?” You prod at the topic as you put away your used cutleries. 

“Yea,” he answers lazily. “It’s so dumb.”

“What is?” you ask with a frown.

“Valentines,” he deadpans.  “Atsumu’s gonna get a fucking diabetes from the amount of chocolates he took from me because I was about to throw them away.”

You try to not let it get to you and breathe steadily to strengthen your resolve. You’re special to Suna. Surely, he won’t treat yours like that.

“What’s more idiotic is confessing this day,” he rambles on. “If a person really likes someone, why wait for Valentines to say it?” He asks rhetorically while putting away his own finished lunch. 

You feel your stomach lurch, like riding down a rollercoaster at full speed unexpectedly. You try your best to mold your face into an impassive expression to not give anything away.

On the inside though, you’re a mess. Your head feels too loud and the air feels too heavy. You want to close your eyes and disappear.

Then he looks at you. “What about you? Did you give chocolates to anyone?”

You vaguely hear his question. You feel like you’re in a bubble and every sound is muffled -- your classmates chattering, the chairs scraping against the floor, the laughter all around you feels distant.

You planned to give him the chocolates you worked so hard on, but definitely not anymore. He hit two things right (Or wrong? Who knows anymore.) on the marks and right now, you do feel idiotic for trying so hard. 

You should’ve known better. Of course, he’d find it stupid! He’s never the person to be all excited with events like this. What were you even thinking, spending all that money and effort when he obviously thinks the whole thing is a farce?

Did you really think this was going to go well? That he’d accept your chocolates and everything would be fine and you would go on as friends? In hindsight, there is never going to be a way out of this where you win. It is a stupid idea, and you’re stupid for even thinking about it.

‘Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,’ you chant in your head. 

“Y/n?”

You flinch and find him staring at you, waiting for your answer. His golden eyes are studying your face carefully. You think you see a little bit of concern there but you brush it off.

“Oh no,” you laugh hesitantly. “No way I’d waste my time on some boy on the very rare chance that he actually likes me back, pfft.” Your laugh turns ironic and bitter. “Like you said, it’s just a dumb holiday,” you respond with a forced smile.

“Anyways, I have to go back now. Later, Rin.” You quickly stand up and head to a comfort room because you feel like shit and you need to cry it out before your classes start again, else you’d be tearing up during lecture.

“Wait.” He grips your hand firmly, adding salt to the injury as you wince when he presses the burn you got from yesterday.

“Ow!”

He’s startled by your sudden reaction, but doesn’t say anything. 

He loosens his hold and moves his grip to your wrist as he pushes up the sleeve of your uniform, revealing the burn on your hand along with small others on your arm. 

“What happened to you?” he asks with muted concern while his eyes are trained on your arm, fingers gently skimming over the burns.

You aggressively retrieve your arm and pull your sleeve back down while you come up with a lie, “Oka-san needed help in the kitchen yesterday.”

He furrows his eyebrows with suspicion. “Why? Everyone knows you’re useless in the kitchen.”

Yeah, but you wanted to do something for him, and the burns would have been worth it if he at least accepted the chocolates you worked so hard on. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know.” You try to laugh it off, but you’re losing it already, so you just give him a quick wave with whatever smile you can muster and saunter away from him. 

After a pathetic sobbing session in one of the cubicles, you make your way back to your classroom looking as normal as you possibly can. 

Thank goodness it’s Valentines. You’re not the only girl with eyes puffy from rejection. 

“Hey.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and solely from his voice, you can tell it’s Osamu. “You okay?” 

Maybe it would’ve been better if you had fallen for Osamu instead. Despite being always teased by him and Atsumu, he’s actually a nice likeable guy. Unlike Suna. 

God, why did it have to be Suna Rintarou?

“Come with me,” you say without looking at Osamu and drag him with you back to your classroom. 

“Uhh, okay.” He sounds unsure but he goes with you anyway. 

You ask him to wait for you just by the doorway of your classroom and grab the stupid box of chocolates you made from your bag. 

You practically shove it to him when you get back to where he is. “Happy Valentines, ‘Samu,” you greet with a dead expression. 

Osamu gapes at you then at the box in hand, an expression of disbelief spreading across his face. 

“Weren’t you asking for chocolates this morning?” 

“That was ‘Tsumu. Also,” he looks closely at the box. “It says ‘Rin.’

You immediately rip out the wrapper where you wrote Suna’s nickname and tuck the crumpled paper in your pocket.

“There. It doesn’t anymore,” you announce passively.

Osamu scratches his head with discomfort. “I can’t accept this, y/n. I can give it to Suna if you want,” he offers kindly.

“Miya Osamu. Either you accept it or I’m throwing it away right now.” Your voice is dead serious and so are you. If Osamu won’t accept it, it’s going to the trash where Suna would’ve tossed it in as well. 

“Okay, okay!” He surrenders with panic and opens the box slowly. 

“Holy sh-,” he clears his throat. “I mean, wow. These are so cute, the cutest I’ve received today,” he comments appreciatively before returning his gaze at you. “You sure about this, y/n?”

You nod, more convinced now that you saw his reactions towards it. “Yeah. I figured I’d want to give them to someone who’s going to actually like them.”

The soft ring of the bell alerts you that your next class is about to start. 

“Thanks Osamu,” you utter with a grateful smile before sauntering back to your classroom. 

--

“Oy ‘Samu, why are these chocolates so cute? How the hell can I eat these?” Tsumu whines.

“You shithead, those are mine!” Osamu rushes to where his twin and grabs the box protectively.

Suna just watches the two and silently waits for another fight to erupt.

“You’d just taste them and give them to me anyways. What’s the deal?” Atsumu asks with a frown.

“If you must know, ‘Tsumu. Y/n gave this to me,” Osamu announces with a condescending grin as Astumu gawks at him in disbelief. “No fucking way, you stinking liar,” Atsumu retorts.

Suna looks at the tiny box Osamu is holding and agrees with Atsumu. There is no way you’d give those to Osamu. You said so yourself this morning.

‘No way I’d waste my time on some boy on the very rare chance that he actually likes me back.’

Did you lie to him and made some for Osamu? Do you like Osamu?

Suna’s mind wanders back to the burns on your hand and arms and how your mom ‘supposedly’ asked you to help out in the kitchen. He knows something is off. You’re never asked to help out with anything that involves cooking, so why did you lie about it?

So what is going on? There’s just no way in hell you like Osamu. Not once have you mentioned liking his teammate enough for you to  venture into the ‘horrors of the kitchen’ (as you put it). And more importantly, why Osamu?

It is true that Suna doesn’t give a shit whether or not  he gets a mountain load of chocolates on this superficial holiday. He’s not eating them. 

However, he’d make an exception only if they come from you. He wouldn’t mind if they’re just store-bought ones as long as they’re from you. 

So why the fuck would you go to the troubles of making them for Osamu and not him? You can’t possibly like Osamu. He won’t allow it.

He marches to where the twins are and turns to Osamu. “Did y/n really give you that?”

Both the twins face him and while Osamu looks pensive, Atsumu wears a shit-eating grin. “Aww, Suna. Are you jealous that your beloved y/n gave us chocolates?”

“‘Tsumu, shut up for the love of God. And she didn’t give it to us. She gave it to me.” Osamu pulls the box closer to him possessively which ticks Suna off even more. 

“Did she say why?” Suna tries to sound calm despite the stupid jealousy bubbling up the pit of his stomach. 

“Obviously because-” Atsumu starts, but Osamu grabs his twin’s face with one hand to halt his babbling as he sighs to face Suna. 

“Actually, the box had your name in it,” Osamu admits. “She just ripped it out and said she’d rather give it to someone who’ll appreciate it.”

“-mmmmff Samu!” Atsumu successfully removes Osamu’s hand. “You shouldn’t have told him that! Do you realize that y/n didn’t want him to know?”

“Duh! Of course, I know. But I really can’t accept chocolates that’re supposed to be for another guy,” Osamu sighs before handing Suna the box. 

He opens it and sees the fuss Tsumu was making about it. They really are cute and are obviously made with care and precision. If someone else had told him that you made these, he wouldn’t have believed them.

But there’s something about the chocolates that he can’t ignore. 

“Why are there bites on the two pieces?” He asks as he lifts his gaze up from the chocolates. 

Atsumu puts his hands behind his head and starts whistling as he avoids Suna’s gaze while Osamu smiles apologetically. 

“Sorry, I wanted to see if they taste as good as they look,” Osamu confesses. As for Atsumu, Suna can already tell that the piss-haired setter just couldn’t help himself despite receiving so many already.

“They’re a bit bland, Suna. Tell y/n she needs to improve her baking skills,” Atsumu comments shamelessly which makes Suna scowl at Atsumu’s ungrateful ass. The fact that you made something look edible is already something commendable.

“They’re okay. Just needs a bit more sweetness,” Osamu backs his twin up.

He brings the remaining chocolate that’s still untouched to his mouth.

“What are you two talking about? It tastes perfectly fine,” he states truthfully. It’s just the right amount of sweetness that he’s able to finish it despite not really being a fan of chocolates. 

Osamu laughs softly before speaking. “She really did make them for you, Suna.”

--

That night, you toss and turn in your bed while trying to keep your focus on the movie you played. As entertaining as it is, you can’t fully enjoy it with constantly wanting to smash your head against the wall of your room.

For a good while, you really thought everything would go smoothly and that by the end of today, you and Suna would be more than just friends. 

Maybe today is a sign that you shouldn’t push it anymore. Suna said so himself: if someone likes a person, they don’t need the holiday to confess.

So why hasn’t he?

The answer is clear as day and you wish you were blind to see it, but you aren’t. 

There had been too many chances for you two to move your relationship forward, but not once had he shown a sign that he wanted to. 

He doesn’t like you like that. It’s just you and your delusional head. He doesn’t love you the way you love him. Even with the cute, romantic scene playing before you, you start tearing up. 

You grab one of your pillows and bury your face in it, effectively silencing the sob and stopping the tears that are coming as you remember your folly attempt to confess today. 

You should’ve been satisfied with the comfort of your friendship. If you hadn’t been so greedy, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. 

You hear a text alert from your phone. You open it and see a text from the source of your misery.

‘Come out’

You don’t want to. Tomorrow you can be back to normal around him, but not tonight.

You hurriedly respond with a lie.

‘Went out zzz’

You throw your phone somewhere on your bed and lie down with your pillow still squeezed between your arms while you space out at nothing.

Your thirst brings you back to your senses so you stand up and get to the kitchen. When you come back to your room, you almost scream when you see Suna sitting slouching on your bed. 

“What the heck, Rin?! How did you get here?” 

“Your mother let me in. Why are you even asking obvious questions?”

You massage your temples as you plan to tell your mom later not to just let anyone in your room even though it’s someone she knows. You might be childhood friends but you’re no longer kids. He can’t just pop in and out of your room anymore like he used to.

“Why are you even here? I said I was out.”

“Your lights are open, dumbass,” he answers, to which you respond with a sigh.

“Didn’t it occur to you that I don’t want to see you?” 

He stands up from your bed and although his expression doesn’t change, you feel alarmed from how he’s towering over you without saying anything.

“W-what?” Your stutter betrays your attempt to sound fine.

“Why the fuck would you give Osamu chocolates that are supposed to be mine?” 

You gawk at him. He isn’t supposed to know that. That bastard, Osamu! You don’t have a prepared excuse for this kind of confrontation. 

“What’s it to you even? You would’ve thrown them away anyways,” you snap back with an accusatory tone.

“Not if they’re from you,” he discloses as his usually austere eyes soften up, holding your gaze. You feel like you’re about to melt.

You feel your heart beat wildly against your chest. Not long ago you had said that you didn’t want to see him, but now that he’s here, you don’t feel like moving. You don’t feel like going anywhere. Everything could be on fire around you but you’d still stay by his side.

But… this is not right. Did you already know? He doesn’t love you back.

You try to turn away to hide the gnawing pain in your chest, but he’s faster. He grabs your arm to pull you closer. When he dips down to claim your lips while his arms snake around your waist, you melt within his hold. 

His lips are so warm and uncharacteristically tender as he moves them intricately against yours, causing you to place both hands against his chest to feel him even more, to feel that he is real and not just a dream induced by how badly you yearn for him.

He pulls away a bit and finds a bewildered look on your face that just makes you look adorable. There had been many times when he thought about doing this, especially whenever you’re staring into nothingness with parted lips as if coaxing him to fuck everything else and just cross the boundary of your platonic relationship.

But to be honest, he didn’t like the complications of being in a romantic relationship with you when you already have this comfortable friendship. At the end of the day, he knows you have him and he has you. 

Yet, he absolutely despises the idea that you might have liked someone else. He’s never felt any resentment towards his teammates, not even to Astsumu who’s a fucking handful most of the time.

Only today.

Only when he saw that box of chocolates in Osamu’s hands that he realized that he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

It was selfish of him, wanting to keep you to himself but not really doing anything to actually make it happen.

That changes tonight. 

He removes one hand from your waist to hold your hand that’s resting on his chest.

“I love you, y/n.”

You blink twice at him, evidently surprised with his confession, but immediately recover when you look down and giggle softly. 

When you look back at him again, your eyes are a mixture of content and mirth. “I thought you said it’s idiotic to confess on Valentines Day,” you remind him with a wide smile.

His loving stare becomes a cold glare when you point out what he had said this morning. He didn’t plan to do it today. He just couldn’t wait until tomorrow, thereby forgetting that he had actually told you that. Although, he still believes people shouldn’t wait for the holiday to confess, it just so happened that today is when he decided to do it.

“Fine. I take it back,” he says out of petty spite.

“I’m kidding!” you respond defensively before intertwining his fingers with yours. “Actually, I was about to confess earlier, but you said the stuff about Valentines being dumb.”

“It still is,” he says, undeterred. In his defense, he really hadn’t been expecting you would. 

“Right. Yet, here we are,” you state as a matter of fact as you grip his hand tighter.

“Can you answer the damn confession already?” he asks exasperatedly which makes you laugh out loud. 

You settle down with an affectionate smile. “Yes, Rin. I love you too.”

He loses his stern expression as he takes your hand to his mouth and kisses it, rubbing the minor burn with his thumb, a reminder that he does appreciate what you did for him. 

“Happy Valentines, I guess,” he says before he goes for your lips again.

mlist of other stuff I wrote

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @babythotshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84​ @anaiss97 @hqbeesun @megatron-1199 @lovershaikyuu

[gamerkats]

The Night Before Boxing Day Chapter All Good Girls Go To 7

Words: 2,200+

It was pretty much exactly what Allison envisioned an isolated, retired horror film, upstairs bedroom of a farm house to be. An angled cut out reading nook window let in the ambient moonlight from outside, as a bare bulb hung like a torture confessional chamber. Single, bent iron-framed bed, with a thread worn patchwork quilt and dingy white suggestion of a pillow, was shoved up against the wall. A wooden dresser lined the area opposite; maple lacquer chipped and painted in neglectful years, with an attached oval mirror behind tchotchke piles. And to top it all off, a weathered rocking chair near the center; to which a raven-haired woman was tied and sitting quietly. The circular table next to her was listing to one side so badly, Allison wondered if the room was sinking.

“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” Allison teased as the woman looked up to her. Tear-streaked cheeks upon a pretty face that caught Allison’s breath in surprise. She might have been cold downstairs, but the small smile the woman was giving, in gratitude for the joke, was certainly giving off heat. “Amber?”

“Mae,” the woman replied in a ragged, soft croak of fading emotion.

Suddenly, a body popped out from behind the door, slamming against it hard into the black turtle-necked Mr. Evanhart. The male escort gave a surprised noise and toppled back into the hallway. “C’mon!” The surprise attacker said loudly, kicking Mr. Evanhart while he was down. “Let’s go, Mae!”

As the surprise attack had turned into a full-on assault, Allison was able to register what she was seeing. A beautiful blond woman in pastel pink designer winter clothing, upper arms bound tightly under yards of nylon rope, kicking the cowering man like it was leg day.

“Coming, Amber,” Mae announced, trying to body shimmy herself forward with the attached rocking chair. It was clear to Allison that this planned escape was all heart and absolutely no head.

“Okay, okay,” Allison said loudly, going behind Amber to grip her shoulders, “that’s enough Sonya Blade, you made your point.” Pulling back hard threw off Amber’s balance, causing her to topple back into Allison’s arms.

“What?! What are you doing! We need to escape!” Amber shrieked, as Allison replied harshly, “How? What’s the plan, huh? Take the door off the hinges to pop-out and surprise beat the other thirty goons downstairs with?”

“Th-thirty?” Amber stated shocked as Allison replied, “Over ten at least, and all with guns. So, if you and Granny Mae don’t want to find out their Fatality move, you’d best get your ass back in that room and calm the fuck down.”

“Bitch,” hissed Mr. Evanhart from the wood floor; gathering his wits now that the beating was over.

“Oh, shove it up your tiny standing dick hole, you turtle-necked squealing piglet. You fucking loved that,” Allison barked over her shoulder, leading a breathy Amber back into the room. “Besides, Amber is like a buck twenty-five wet—prolly felt like you were being massaged by a bunny.”

“Hey!” Amber snapped with airy bitterness, “I had him.”

Allison closed the door behind them, hearing the sounds of the man getting to his feet on the other side. “Sure as a sunflower eats radiation, you did,” she acknowledged over her shoulder, “but taking out one pussy still leaves us a whole cloud of hiss to deal with.” Allison lingered near the door, just in case he was going to attempt to open it for a little revenge. She didn’t exactly know what she would do, but guessed with her sister downstairs, a good bellowing scream might put a pause on the whole ordeal.

Instead, she was relieved to hear him grumble, You’re lucky, bitch, and heavy boot back down the stairs to join the others. “Phew,” she audibly sighed, “well, that might not have been the escape you wanted, but at least you kicked the idea to tie me up right out of his skull.” Turning to the other two, Allison gave a warm grin before moving to Amber saying, “I’m Alli, the newest member of the, No One Can Hear Us Scream Club.” Struggling and fumbling, she eventually undid the knots and let the rope unravel to the floor before going to Mae and attempting the same.

“Sorry I wasn’t any help before,” Mae’s dark chocolate stare found the floorboards in disappointment.

“Are you kiddin’?” Allison said behind her, pulling and pushing at the rope, “Every long-tailed cat and tender-toed toad for two counties got real fucking nervous for a second there. But if I hadn’t stopped you, the stairs would’ve.”

“We were hoping he had a knife we could use,” Mae laughed softly, grateful she didn’t have to find out about those stairs even accidentally.

“You were hoping he had a knife?” Allison finished with the knot and unwound Mae with the help of Amber, “Good Lord, you two are some kinda crazy. And here I was just hoping he was a masochist, so Amber didn’t spend the rest of this novel in a coma.”

“I might look like an Austin Powers Fembot because I love make-up and the color pink. But make no mistake, I’m tough enough to get up when I’m knocked around,” Amber huffed, rubbing the stinging of her arms.

Allison gave her a sideways glance as she asked, “Was your trainer that Tyler Walker you caterwauled about before?”

“Tyler?” She replied a bit surprised before remembering she had dropped his name earlier hoping it held any kind of explosive weight. “He never hit me, if that’s what you’re implying. Tyler is no angel, but he isn’t an asshole either. He’s just dedicated to the almighty dollar, and thinks relationships are a cactus.”

“And you’re what? A ficus?”

“A rose, obviously,” she rolled her eyes as Allison nodded saying, “Ah, yes, of course. Silly me. Because your last name is Rose.”

“Oh,” Amber said with saucer-eyed wonder, “I never thought of that. Yeah, that too. But also, because I’m super beautiful and delicate and I need lots of attention or I die.”

“Odd thing to be proud of, but sure, why not,” Allison shrugged, “and clearly you’ve got wicked thorns at the ends of those long stems of yours too, so it works.”

“Huh, never thought of that either,” Amber mused to herself, as her gaze became distant.

“Okay then. Completely thoughtless analogy aside,” bringing her attention to Mae, who was now standing and rubbing feeling back into herself, Allison asked, “do either of you know why you’re here?”

“Probably the same reason you are,” Amber stated as Allison scoffed with, “Doubtful.”

“Look,” Amber continued, “we were both at my house, folding boxes, and a bunch of men broke in and dragged us here.”

“Folding boxes?” Allison raised a brow as Amber sighed heavily answering, “Because tomorrow is Boxing Day, duh. We celebrate all the major holidays in my house.”

“Boxing Day isn’t –” Allison stopped herself as there definitely wasn’t enough time to fill all of Amber’s missing pieces in life. Not if she wanted to escape this mess. “Never mind. Yes, of course, only a heathen doesn’t celebrate the Feast of Saint Boxes. So, before these obvious cardboard hating non-believers showed up, was there any kind of event or circumstance that might have led to this? Do you have enemies? Or maybe this is retaliation for someone else, and you’re their weak spot?”

“Not that I can think of,” Amber crossed her arms upon her chest, and leaned back on one foot, “I mean, there is Tyler the boy billionaire, but we broke up this morning. So, I doubt anyone would want to use me against him.”

“Okay,” Allison nodded, “so this is probably about him then, as I doubt you had your breakup over skywriting texts.” Looking to Mae she asked, “What about you?”

“Me?” The question was almost laughable to her as she meekly smiled, “I’m a nobody. Amber is my best friend. I basically follow her around, help with all her ideas, and randomly end up with whoever is deemed a sweet, gentle, homely looking support character who sells vegetables.”

“That’s incredibly specific,” Allison grumbled before adding, “well, since your Boxing Day is more fucked up than a wet Picasso in a centrifuge, I’d say today is all about breaking with traditions. Oh, and I don’t sell vegetables; I sell centerfolds.” She threw Mae a wink that almost toppled her over from the bashfulness of the attention.

“So,” Amber drew both women in her direction, “what’s the plan? We pick the lock and sneak down the stairs and out the back door? Or do we climb out the window down the drainpipe?”

“Why are all of your ideas influenced by your teenage years?” Allison replied as she rubbed her forehead in annoyance, “That door doesn’t have anything but tetanus on it, and even if you could open that window, it’s a sheer drop to the snow below. And before you suggest we turn that poor quilt, hanging on for dear threaded life, into a rope to hang ourselves with, we got no where to go except become a frozen urban legend.”

“So, we’re not breaking out of here?” Mae asked disappointed as Allison smirked softly.

“Of course, we’re breaking out of here,” she answered with surety, “the Hickie Hiding Club didn’t bring us here to play house. If this ain’t some kind of murder cult, or sex trade, then it’s most certainly a hostage situation. Y’all are being used as leverage against someone. And that’s a time-consuming back and forth of negotiation phone tag. It’s our only advantage.”

“Oh my God, that’s brilliant! You want to use that time to charm our guards and escape,” Amber stated excitedly to Allison’s dismay.

“Girl,” she sighed with a drooping of her shoulders, “even if we were Dallas Cheerleaders in the buck, wearing a necklace of two-inch marbled Porterhouses, and balancing cold six packs in each hand, those goons ain’t never gonna be charmed.”

“I think you’re giving up too easily on our feminine wiles,” she shrugged indignant.

“And I think you didn’t know that all of them are dressed in $3,000 imported cashmere sweaters,” Allison pointed out, “they’re not henchmen from a B movie, these are important people here to do something big. And the only reason they’re doing it together, is so that when the dust settles after their scuff-up, anyone still in a clean shirt gets a complementary dirt nap.”

“Why do you think that?” Mae asked as Allison happily answered, “Because, beautiful, if they were expendable, those would be outfits from the bargain bin. And rich people like this don’t dress in something akin to a uniform because they’re a team. They’re dressing similarly to reduce the accurate eye witness accounts. All anyone is going to be able to say is, ‘I saw a man dressed in black’. They’re not going to be able to properly count how many, or give much in the way of physical details since black muddles up skin tone, size, and other discerning features.”

Moving away from the other two, Allison carefully opened the door to look out into the hallway. No one was watching them. That was either arrogance, or it was confidence; she didn’t want to gamble on either. It was possible someone was watching or listening via a camera or microphone, but from the lack of places to hide something, she guessed they were on their own.

Closing the door quietly, she looked to them once more and spoke softer, “I don’t have a plan yet, but I’m brewing on one. For now, let’s search the room for anything we might be able to use.”

“Use how?” Amber asked, looking about her position as if it would present itself in an obvious manner.

“Well, I don’t rightly have a recipe off the top of my head, but let’s pretend this became a crafting game, and we’ll pool all our knickknacks onto the bed before we decide, okay?” Allison replied as the other two nodded and split up. At the moment, searching the room for anything useful was simply an attempt at buying some time. Amber was obviously the type to get stupid in a hurry, and Mae seemed like she’d support stupid right off the cliff.

Her sister and that sinister Mr. Jacobs were right below her feet. And even though she knew that death wasn’t likely in her own immediate future, Allison couldn’t account for her bunkmates. There was something going on here, something bigger than just a hostage situation for money. Grabbing Amber was one thing, but you didn’t take the plucky comic relief along for the ride unless you wanted a splashy headline in the papers.

But what would it read? Tyler Walker pays millions for safe return of ex-girlfriend? Tyler Walker walks a thousand miles to avoid a scandal? Mr. Evanhart had said something about Amber being lucky, which means that Amber isn’t to be harmed. At least, not right now. But hostages are often roughed up to make the proof of life videos all the more compelling. So, why is Amber being kept in pristine condition?

Whatever the answers were, Allison knew two things. One; Mae was probably the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her life. And two: this level of control over a goon not retaliating when getting stomped to bits was something she’d seen before. Only Mr. Jacobs wasn’t running that gang.

The White Rabbit was.

The Night Before Boxing Day

This is a random story from a writing prompt Tumblr post found here.

The prompt is two Hallmark movie "bad guys" on Christmas who get dumped by their blonde ex-girlfriends, and meet at the airport on their way home to New York, and subsequently fall in love.

So long as there's interest in this we'll keep writing new chapters. This has been tagged by us as mature.

Warning: Sexual Themes, Mature Themes (mention of things like Drugs, Abuse, Alcohol, Rape etc.), Mature Language, and at some point Graphic Sex -- Reader Discretion is Advised. Minors DNI

The Night Before Boxing Day Chapter 1

Words: 2,000+

Tap, tap, went the cigarette upon the silver engraved holder it once belonged to. He hadn’t smoked in years; having given up the habit to climb the corporate ladder without getting winded by addiction. Smoking made him look weak, undisciplined, pathetic; all the things Amber had said only hours earlier. But he wasn’t smoking then; those were the colorful little traits she shared when he asked, “What’s he got that I don’t?” Not his best turn-a-phrase, but it seemed rightly scripted at the time.

Weak, undisciplined, pathetic. In Amber’s eyes, not a man.

Tap, tap.

He didn’t know why he kept the cigarette all these years in his silk-lined jacket pocket. Perhaps it was so he didn’t have room to keep a flask, and could avoid another habit that would likely result in him falling from the top rung he’d climbed to. But it was an unusual comfort now. His last one. The unsmoked. Before it was a bane, then became a reminder, a motivation, and now, it felt like the only light left on his tree. Well, it would if he actually had a light.

“Need a match?” A graveled tone sauntered up behind him in a pair of leather shoes that rivaled his own in expense. No, not graveled, there was an ache reflected in his words that could better be described as rubble. Something had ruined the newcomer, it would be the only explanation for coming to the airport on Christmas night.

Turning his piercing blue eyes to the unexpected company, he found that the ache and shoes were not the only thing he seemed to mirror. Italian three-piece suit, manicured nails, navigator gold and silver wristwatch, tight trimmed stubble beard, and carefully combed hair shaped like a perfect power wave a few degrees below being called a pompadour. Not at all the right attire or look for the small farming town of Christianville, Virginia.

What a silly duo they made; practically screaming, ‘out-of-towner who’s never done a hard day’s work in their life’. Here stands a college boy, looming lord of the corporate world, and crusher of boonie dreams. Sex in a suit that still can't get the girl.

“No thanks,” he finally replied, after finishing his visual assessment of company, “I quit, actually. This just reminds me why.”

“Oh?” A jovial lilt crept into his outrageously beautiful features, “Mind if I ask what that might be? I’m in need of a little positive motivation myself. Eight years sober. Cold turkey. Never looked back. But tonight…” Deep brown eyes looked off into the frosted night of the tarmac, as if his thoughts were still being loaded into the baggage carts below.

“Tonight you’re starting to feel the turn of your head,” he finished the newcomer’s sentence only to see a small nod of approval.

Yes, what a silly duo they made indeed. Weak, undisciplined, pathetic.

A silence drifted between them; their gazes fixed into the night when not upon each other’s reflections. They were alone. Only the gentle clicks and clacks of the nearly empty airport to create an ambiance other than the Christmas Sulk track they had been mentally playing.

Yet, the longer they stood together, awaiting either a delayed or now boarding sign to appear, the more comfortable they both felt. Perhaps it was simply because they were the strong, silent, standoffish type, and the cool business class air felt familiar between them. Or maybe it was that they could swear they’d seen the other on the cover of, Richest and Most Eligible Bachalors, at least twice. Either way, their shoulders began to ease as each moment lessened the weight upon their hearts. In the very least, what was left of Christmas wasn’t being spent entirely alone.

“Does the bottle have a name?” He finally asked, turning his stance so he could more effectively see his companion. In doing so, he absentmindedly returned the cigarette to its silver case, and slipped it within his inside jacket pocket.

“Sarah,” the man answered before darting his eyes to the cigarette case and back to those piercing blues, “what about you?”

“Amber,” he replied after a pause, watching as a sexy grin of acknowledgement crossed the man’s face accompanied by an understanding sound of, “Ah.”

“I’m Chad, Chad Winters,” the man introduced, extending a perfectly practiced hand.

“Tyler Walker,” he answered with an expert grip of his own.

“Tyler Walker?” Chad raised a brow, “Of Walker International?” Seeing Tyler give a smirk for an answer, he went on, “Small world. What are the odds?”

“Why do you say that?” Tyler asked as they both reluctantly let the other’s hand go; a feeling of chill replacing the warmth they briefly enjoyed.

“I own Salty Seaport Acquisitions,” Chad revealed to the widening of Tyler’s gaze, “you and I have a meeting next week about our company’s massive merger.”

Bitterness seeped as tea into Tyler’s ridiculously gorgeous features, staining all good nature that had once been forming. Taking a step back, his words came out as angered razors, “You. You’re the reason I’m here!”

“At the airport?” Chad asked in a characteristically-Chad fashion, which only fueled Tyler’s fury further.

“Yes! If you had just signed the papers, I wouldn’t be in this mess! But no, I spent the last three days on the phone with my business partner, Jacobs, trying to make a deal with your company. When I should have been showing Amber I really have changed!”

“Wait, you’re mad at me because I didn’t sign papers that would undercut my grandfather’s legacy?!” The steam of Chad’s frustration began to pipe through his perfectly muscled form. “If you had just seen the value that my company was bringing, you would have seen that 50/50 was an equitable agreement! Your terms would have put families out of work!”

“My terms? My terms?! My terms were trying to keep families IN their jobs! You’re the one trying to put them on the streets. And what about all of the sub-clauses where your company gets to pick and choose internal advancement? That kind of discrimination is something I absolutely won’t stand for,” Tyler clenched a fist, uncertain if he was going to find it a new resting place in the side of Chad’s face.

Yet, his fingers began to ease as Chad calmed asking, “Wait, did you say, Jacobs?”

“Yes, why?”

“Over middle aged, average height, rotund, looks like he could have been a Bond villain in another life, and always says, ‘Don’t worry –’”

“ – I’ll handle it.” Tyler finished with a sharp nod, “Yes, that’s him. Again, why?”

“Jacobs...works for me too,” Chad revealed to the astonishment of his rival companion.

Quiet floated like a feather, wafting back and forth between them as they both pondered on the previous events. Jacobs had been the one they’d both tasked with making all the important arrangements. The merger was far too large for either Tyler or Chad to close on their own, despite having closed countless business dealings before in their earlier years—the years that contained Amber and Sarah.

“I think we’re both getting taken for a ride,” Tyler finally blew the silence away with softer spoken words.

“And not the kind of ride I like,” Chad sighed heavily, rubbing a hand upon the back of his neck. “Who knows what other kinds of dealings he’s underhandedly dealt for me.”

“And me,” Tyler agreed, deciding whether to call Jacobs that moment and force him into the truth, or wait until he was back in person to let the police do it for him. “Well, I suppose since we’re both here, we could simply go over with a topical glance of the details that we both remember. Maybe even come to an old fashioned handshake agreement.”

 “I wouldn’t mind that,” Chad shrugged with little care, “but I prefer making decisions over dinner. You’d be surprised how a little gravy helps the big thinking go down.”

Tyler gave a genuine chuckle, a sound that pebbled Chad’s nipples beneath his expensive button-down. “Oh,” Tyler grinned, “I know well the power of the breadbasket. But I’m not sure anything is open at this hour. Would you settle for a grand display of my financial power at the vending machines?”

“Well, if you’re buying then I won’t hesitate to pick the most expensive of items,” Chad dared as the two began to walk in near step with one another. “I’m a D through E choice kind of man.”

“Oh?” Tyler teased with a small laugh that Chad was beginning to crave in his ears, “And I give off an A through C vibe, do I?”

“I’m not sure what kind of vibe you’re giving off,” Chad gave a smoldering look that singed warmth into the broken edges of Tyler’s heart, “but I’d like to find out.”

“We are talking business, are we not?” His voice tried to hold as much professionalism as possible, but the way Chad was making him feel was beginning to breach his corporate walls.

“What if I said not?”

The question made Tyler’s ears feel hot as he cleared his throat in an effort to clean his dirtying mind. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Amber had been his world, his reason. Amber had been everything to him. Enough so, that he was willing to travel all the way from New York at last minute Christmas time—eight connecting flights, nineteen phone calls with displays of power and threats to get tickets, crushed knees in whatever available seat he could get, and thousands of dollars in lost luggage—just to make sure she was okay.

Tyler might not have been her first, not like family farm working Brandon whom she’s picked over him, but she was in fact his. And that echoed through the cavernous hole where his love used to sit. Where the cold began to creep its tendril frost over the emptiness Amber carved open.

Christmas might have been Amber’s favorite time of year, but it was never Tyler’s. Christmas meant New Year’s, and New Year’s meant a new calendar fiscal year. It meant that all the employees that normally worked would be at home with their families, but someone would still need to be in the office keeping the coal burning. And true leadership was being the one with the shovel.

Christmas also meant that good judgement would be down, and drunk driving would be up, that impoverished children would be expecting a Santa that would never find their address, and that in order for all the Amber’s of the world to enjoy their carols and eggnog, someone else would be working overtime to keep the lights and heat on.

No, Tyler never saw Christmas like Brandon or Amber did. This wasn’t a time of year for good cheer and good will toward humankind. It is simply a time where the poor are reminded of what privilege truly is—the ability to be with your loved ones over the need of a paycheck.

And yet, right now, as he happily pushed in buttons on an old machine that cracked and groaned with cold gears, it seemed that winter was heating up. There was a way about Chad, perhaps in how he dipped his clean fingers into the drop-box where their packaged dinner awaited, that made Tyler want to find out exactly what Chad would sound like beneath his own touch. What would make him blush or groan. What exactly would make Winter shiver.

And by the look Chad was giving him, holding an armload of colorful nutritionless calories, he was thinking the exact same thing. There was a different kind of hunger in his eyes, one that wanted to learn exactly how to make Tyler’s mistletoes curl. An electricity between these powerful men that charged their hearts with desire and hope, that gave them grins with thoughts spinning yarns of ideas.

Santa Claus might not have been coming, but between Chad and Tyler, each hoped the other would soon.

[nanikoreeeh]

― meaningless effort [ ch. i ]

a miya atsumu X chubby!reader story

synopsis;  there's a force to be reckoned within him, it beats inside his chest and plunges him forward; there's a craving in her heart that he fills, miya atsumu washes over you with the strength of a roaring tide and the water is creeping under your toes...

author’s note; i didn’t mean to write this, @darlingtobio​ sent me a request of a stalker atsumu pinning on a chubby reader and i feel this is a concept i can explore and  develop further, i don’t know how many chapters this will have but i hope you can join me on the ride ;D

warnings; toxic behaviour, pinning, angst, fluff, smut, chubby reader, body image issues, insensitive atsumu at times, slow burn, stalking.

― if you liked the story it would mean the world to me if you could comment & reblog so i know that you enjoyed it, thanks a lot :D

He can still remember the first time you smiled at him, the soft curve that lit your pretty lips upwards, the squinting of your kind eyes that showed him that your smile was sincere. He doesn’t remember why you smiled at him, but the context isn’t important, what matters is that he felt something inside him change. An urge to see you smiling like that again, to get to know how he could make you smile again like that.

He hadn’t really paid you much attention before that, but he knew he had been sharing classes with you during his three years of highschool. At first he can’t help but get frustrated about not noticing you sooner, he’s been so driven by volleyball that he hasn’t had the chance to properly think about being serious with someone. He gets over that negative feeling soon enough, what matters is that now he has the chance to really go for it, he’s career is looking bright and he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have you by his side as he makes it to the top of competitive volleyball.

Then he finds out that you’re also moving to Osaka to attend college, and it feels like destiny.

“Good morning, Y/N-chan.” Greets you the blonde twin while leaning against your desk like every morning for the past weeks. Miya Atsumu has turned out to be a box full of surprises, you still get a little startled as he rests his elbows on the flat surface of your notebook, and you return his greeting with a smile.

He is softer than you’d expected, he likes to make small talk about the kind of places he likes to go when he has free time and to tell you about his games, “You should come to cheer me up someday.” He casually mentions and your heart gets excited at his proposal, but then he adds; “The team can always use the support”.

Of course you’d just be another girl in the stands cheering for his name, he doesn’t particularly care if it’s you or anyone else you guess. Yes, he is softer than you thought, but you find that your assumptions about him weren’t all that off, he’s a little too cocky sometimes.

Is better this way, it keeps you from liking him too much. He is too handsome and cheeky to not make your insides flutter, but you’ve seen several of his exes and know for sure you’re not really his type. You try not to let it get you down too much, is not like you feel worthless, but still, stings knowing he wouldn’t go for you.

So you keep up with his conversations and sometimes when he surprises you from behind, one hand pinching your sides as he mutters a “Are you thinking of something lewd?” you let yourself get excited, but only for a couple of seconds. Then at nights when your mind wanders into fantasies of the two of you being together you end up rationalizing that he’s just like that and that you should be careful of not falling for someone who doesn’t even sees you as someone they could fall in for.

You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on your back when you walk away from him, and you think it's just a coincidence when you run into him while you’re hanging with your friends at your favorite cafe. He gives you an almost bored smile from the counter and goes to sit at his own booth all by himself after briefly saying hi to you.

You are about to leave when he sneaks by your side, his fingers tightly squeezing the chub on your upper arm to keep you from moving. It’s ridiculous how nervous his simple touch can make you. You look up at him confused, mildly worried about the placement of his hand. But he pays it no mind at your expression.

“Were you leaving without saying goodbye?” His tone is playful, the almost whisper in his voice makes your insides flip and you exhale to calm your nerves before asking as casually as possible.

“You seemed to want some alone time” you admit, shyer than you'd have liked.

He tilts his head sideways and only mutters an elongated “Mmh” at your answer, he looks at your group of friends waiting outside for you. “Where are you going now?”

“I think we’re going karaoking”. You notice he hasn’t let go of your arm, brown eyes intensely staring at your own. You don’t know what drives you to be bold and ask, but you do it anyways. “Why don’t you come with us?”

Atsumu can feel his heart jumping inside his chest, he knows it’s too cheesy, and still he can’t help it, nor his grip digging into your flabby arm with more strength for a couple of seconds. Are you actually asking him out?

Then the laughter of your friends tears his gaze apart from your eyes and he feels bitter. You must be asking just to be polite, and he doesn’t want his first date with you to be like this. He wants you all to himself, he’s never been big on sharing, he’s man enough to own it, so even if it pains him to part himself from you, especially after coming all the way to this place just for you has to say no.

At night, as he stares at the ceiling of his room a thought can’t help but wander to his mind: sometimes he dislikes you, who are you and why are you making him feel like this, act like this? He’s never been one to hang onto a crush like this. Today was unexpected, yesterday he was scrolling to your instagram and just a couple of hours ago he gave up his free day to follow after you? He opens your stories once again even when you haven’t made an update since your last clip of you entoning - quite awfully if he is being honest- the opening of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

He tosses around in bed scrolling through your pictures finding just the right one: the hem of your school skirt has ridden high enough for him to see a thin line of skin that your long stockings usually hide. It’s nothing, is just a small glimpse at your legs but still it has him wondering what kind of other thing you could be hiding.

He spits in the palm of his hand, pulling down at his boxers just enough to set his semi half cock free, he coats his member on his emission, head tossing back and a sigh emitting between his lips. What kind of panties do you wear? He strokes himself slowly but firmly, his shoulders easing into the delicious friction. He stares at the picture, you’re doing the peace sign and it’s summer, the outline of your boobs looking so tempting inside the white fabric of your blouse. He begins to stroke himself harder.

What kind of bra are you wearing in that picture? He presses his thumb against his slit, delicious pain flooding through his core. What kind of bra are you wearing right now? Are you even wearing any bra, any clothes?  His erection grows, his mind creates an picture of what he imagines your naked body to look like, he imagines you spread open, juices flowing from your pussy as your fingers desperately try to fuck your hole, but you can’t… He wonders if perhaps you’re doing the same thing he is doing right now…

Maybe your fingers are really rubbing against your own clit at this exact moment, face flushed and eager rhythm, you need to come, you want to come… but you can’t, you are missing something, you’re whimpering into your pillow, wet noises coming from your ministrations but you just can’t come…

What if you’re whimpering his name as you shove your fingers into your tight cunt? He could make you come so badly, he wants to make you come so badly… His strokes grow faster, his pace more erratic. He bets if it were his fingers inside your pretty pussy he’d have you seeing stars, his fingers reaching that spongy tissue that would have you coming undone.

He can almost hear your needy whimpers…

“Atsu… A-Atsumu… please, just fuck me”.

He is so close, frantic strokes and his teeth biting his lips to avoid making any kind of sound that will give away what he is doing, he limits himself to strangle his groan, the metallic taste of blood flowing through his papilas but he doesn’t care. He imagines  pounding into you, your arms holding to his neck for dear life as his balls slap against your sore pussy, you are coming around him and he is filling your insides with his come…

His respiration is coming uneven, lound pants making his chest rise and fall, warm capitulation covering his fingers and his abdomen and his glossy eyes stare at your picture again.

You are hideous, you are just the worst,  and Atsumu really wants to mean it…

He turns around, stomach flat against his bed, head tilted sideways, fingers clenching around his phone, your face clearly present behind his closed lids. His heart is aching, he can feel it longing, needy for your presence by his side.

Sometimes he dislikes you, he dislikes that you leave him craving you like this. Do you even think about him? He sighs, the heavy drowsiness from sleep beginning to take him away.

He mutters your name in the darkness, it wraps around him like a soft duvet. Should he embrace you?

He thinks about your smile, that damned smile that was the beginning of his downfall… He is gonna embrace you, but you’re not going to own him, not unless he makes you need him just as much. He is gonna make sure you embrace him too.

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl. 

rating: mature wc: 1.8k 

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?” 

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs. 

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name. 

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

*

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be. 

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

*

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact. 

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.” 

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince. 

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself. 

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company. 

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long. 

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

*

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!” 

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder,  “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

[cloverfics]

sweethearts ; bakugou katsuki

warnings shy!reader, shy!katsuki, mutual pining, and not edited

genre fluff, f2ls

word count 2.5k

inspiration n/a

synopsis in which you and the rest of the bakusquad are apart of the candygram committee and you take the opportunity to make a move on one stubborn katsuki

"This is so stupid." Katsuki sighed, feet hiked up onto his desk. It was around the umpteenth time that he had mentioned how useless or well— stupid this whole thing is.

You frowned, tying another ribbon around a baggie. "Aw, c'mon, Kat. It's the day of love, be more cheerful." You said, tossing him a chocolate.

He scoffed. "No. And stop calling me Kat." The following demand was mumbled as Katsuki turned his attention to opening the candy.

"Sure thing, Kat." You whipped around, imagining the irritated expression he was channeling because of your antics.

"C'mon Mina! How many do I have!" Denki whined, trying his best to juke the clipboard of names from Mina's hands. Something he's been doing all morning.

From the left of you, Kirishima let out a breath of laughter. "Dude, just wait and see." He assured Denki.

"Exactly. The surprise is the most fun part about this thing." Mina added on while she gently shoved Denki away from her.

"Not if dunceface doesn't get any." Katsuki sneered, sending Denki into a further sulk.

You sucked you teeth, preparing to reprimand Katsuki but Sero interjected first. "I wonder if you're getting anything today, Bakugou."

Almost on cue, the smug smirk on Katsuki's face simmers down into a scowl. He scoffed, "I could care less if I got one of those pathetic bags today! I can buy my own damn candy!" As he was getting chewed out, Sero could only chuckle.

Sending a sneaky glance towards you. You sighed, tuning out Katsuki's continous speech about how candygrams were pointless and how he didn't even want any.

In the corner of your eye you could see a sympathic smile on Kirishima's lips. He nudged your arm, "Nonetheless, you should still give it to him," He whispered into your ear.

Tossing another baggie into the box next to Jirou, you nodded.

"It'll make his day, I promise."

ฺ｡*:･

"Woah... seventeen for Yaomomo," Jirou blinked a couple times as your class erupted in a wave of teasing while Momo shuffled her way up to the front.

"Just take the whole damn box." Denki bitterly jutted it out her. He doubled over suddenly when Mina took said box and hit him in the stomach.

"Sorry, he's being very negative today." She handed Yaomomo her designated number of bags, making Denki help her to her desk.

You giggled softly. Your class was the last one for today, thankfully. Somehow, you had already grown sick to the smell of chalky sweets, even if your name hasn't been called yet.

"Twelve for Todoroki," Shoto came up to the front as dazed as ever while Denki muttered a very distasteful shocker under his breath.

Katsuki scoffed from his spot next you, leaning his back against the classroom chalk board. "Can't I go back to my desk?" He groaned.

Sero sucked his teeth, forming a conversation while Jirou's monotonous call continued. "Seeing as you didn't lift a finger all day I think you should be able to."

He prepared a smug smirk for Katsuki's explosive comeback but before he could speak through his gritted teeth, Aizawa had already shushed them.

"Two for Denki," A giggle that she covered up immediately with her hand fell from Jirou's lips and the classroom followed suit with a fit of snickers.

You could've sworn you say Denki's eye twitch before being handed two baggies by a grinning Mina. "Hey! That's two more than last year, right buddy?" Kirishima smacked Denki on the back in attempt to comfort.

"I don't think he wants words from someone who got seven more than him, Kiri." You whispered, noticing the way Denki borderline shook under Kirishima's hand.

"Four for ___." Your laughing fit with Kirishima was interrupted by your own name being called and Mina handing you your treats.

"Tch. What four imbeciles went out of their way to buy one of those for you?" Katsuki mused before you could speak yourself.

"You smell that," you sniffed around, Katsuki's eyes narrowed at you. "I smell pure jealousy." Your bags were waved in Katsuki's face for a moment before he was swatting your hands away.

"And last but certainly not least, one for Katsuki." Your heart skipped a beat. Not just at the mention of his name like it usually did but because you knew that one bag was purchased by you for him.

You were eager to look over and see the confused look on Katsuki's face you knew he was wearing but your heart was already beating in your ears so loud that you were in a stand still.

The thoughts you've had that always followed since you even got the idea to give him one started to roam freely.

Would he be grossed out? Would he be curious? What if he already suspects you because you're being obvious? And what if, miraculously, Kirishima's right and it makes his day?

But instead of laying any of those raging questions to rest, Katsuki accepts his bag from Mina silently. No snarky comment, no anger, just a soft tint of pink layering his cheeks as he looked at the packaging he had seen a hundred times already.

"Alright, thanks for finally wrapping that up, Jirou. Don't get those candy wrappers on my floor, I'm taking a nap." Mister Aizawa waved you all off like he always did and found home in that yellow sleeping bag.

While your committee cleaned up the boxes, the classroom fluttered with chatter. The spectrum of conversation being who they think would get them one and who they think bought something for the other person.

The cleanup was quick, so you all headed to the front where all the seats were open and gathered.

"Two. I only got two." Denki finally awoke from his daze to the realization.

You laughed, taking one from your bunch and leaning over to Denki. "I can share one of mine. Not really a fan of sweethearts."

But Denki still proved to be bitter, slapping your bag away. "I don't need your pity candy, ___."

You snorted. "Okay, suit yourself."

"So, it turns out Kat actually got one. You owe me twenty bucks Jirou." Sero made grabby hands at the girl who scoffed and immediately went into her bag.

You expected the usual antics to come from Katsuki who sat in his usual desk, one ahead of you. But again, there was no yelling, or anger, just a scoff and a glare.

"You idiots bet on me?" He asked.

"Hey, I thought it was easy money since I know exactly who would've got you one. Thankfully, they pulled through." Sero collected his cash with glee while you broke out into a cold sweat. Your eyes darted to Sero, a threatening message within them that you're sure he understood.

"Who?" Katsuki tried to make it seem like he didn't really care with the tone he used. But he was genuinely curious, you could tell. Which made you sweat more.

Katsuki sucked his teeth. "It was probably you, so you could get the money." The breath of relief you took was like no other, you visibly relaxed.

Sero chuckled. "No sir, I spent no money on candygrams. So, keep on guessing."

Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling that class and school as a whole was over. Your class flooded out, all walking to your dorm together in the usual group. Kirishima found his way to you in the crowd, bumping your hip.

"See, I told you." He pointed to a couple feet away where Katsuki walked ahead, bag still in hand as he stared down at it.

You felt your face start to heat up, nudging him with your elbow. "Maybe he's weirded out."

Kirishima scoffed. "If you told him it was from you, I assure you then you'll know it made his day."

A sigh had your body slumping. "I don't know, Kiri. I've managed to keep a good friendship with Kat. It's risky enough that I bought him one but confessing is another thing."

Even though you've managed to get through Katsuki's tough exterior ( kind of ), you still couldn't read him that well. How were you supposed to know when the right time to tell him was? Or if a right time even existed.

"Do it, trust me." Kirishima placed a hand on your shoulder, you gulped and darted your attention again to Katsuki's back.

ฺ｡*:･

You spent the rest of the day wallowing in your room with your inner conflict. Even ignoring the invites from your friends to spend the day watching d—list romance movies to sulk. It wasn't until later on in the evening that you came out of your room.

The dorms were less lively, almost everyone going away to their rooms to do whatever. You were convinced you were the only one in the main area until you saw Katsuki in the kitchen, unfortunately.

Your feet were ready to take you back upstairs to hide from him. But he must've heard the creaking that happened under your feet and caught you. His maroon eyes piercing right through you.

Damn it.

"Hey, Kat." You greeted awkwardly, hesitantly shuffling into the kitchen.

He nodded at you in acknowledgement, continuing to watch whatever he had in the microwave go round. The kitchen fell silent while the cogs in your head worked together to find yourself an excuse as to why you were even in here.

You shuffled through cabinets, pretending you were looking for something in particular.

"Hey," Katsuki beckoned your attention. His eyes were still trained on the microwave but obviously he was listening and waiting for your response. You hummed in answer, halting your pretend scavenging and leaning on the counter next to the fridge.

"You have any clue who bought me that baggie thing?" As he continued, his head turned to you. Your eyes enlarged at the sudden question that was accompanied by Katsuki staring you down. You felt like you were under an intense spotlight and there was no way out other than to a) lie or b) spill the beans.

Your brain was telling you to just get it over with and do the former, admit it to him confidently like Kiri had been urging you to do. Face the consequences as they came and stop hiding. So, you inhaled deeply and exhaled.

"I— uh— well, I— uh..." If you had the willpower to face palm you would, but apparently none of the signals your brain was sending were making it through to your body. Because your mouth kept opening and closing, no confession or accountability flowing out like you had hoped.

The only you could do was heat up and start sweating. The spotlight was getting hotter and more blinding.

The urge to face plant into the island ahead of you increased when Katsuki narrowed his eyes at you. The intimidating look sending chills up your spine.

You coughed. Putting an end to your stuttering and stammering. Your eyes fell to the tiles of the kitchen, hoping they'd loosen up one by one and swallow you whole.

"If there's something you want to tell me, idiot, spit it out," The microwave went off but now Katsuki could care less. He was edging towards you, arms crossed and curious to why it seemed like you were being interrogated for murder when he asked what he thought was a simple question.

Just do it.

The phrase chanted repeatedly in your head. And with the last of your dignity, you finally fulfilled your brain's request.

"I did it. I'm the one who bought the candygram..., Kat." You started off strong, but moving onto the second sentence your voice began to mellow.

You wanted to look anywhere except Katsuki but the shocked look on his face, accompanied by the tint of red covering his cheeks kept you drawn in. This time around he was staring down at the tiles, probably wishing the same thing that you were just seconds ago.

"If you did it as a joke, id—" Katsuki was about to threaten you, ready to build his walls back up but your adrenaline from fessing up was obviously still surging through you.

"No! It wasn't to prank you or anything, I did it because I like you, Kat. A lot." You paused, inhaling.

"A—and I've been meaning to tell you but I didn't know how you'd react because you're not really open. But then Kirishima told me it was a good idea, so I—" Your real self snapped back to reality in the middle of your confession, and it was apparent as you began to ramble and scratch the nape of your neck.

"Alright, enough. You sound like damn Deku." Katsuki, thankfully, put an end to your tangent that you silently agreed did sound like Izuku.

You laughed awkwardly, hoping it'd ease the tension not only in the air but in you. It felt nice to get that weight off your shoulders but oh boy did you have a lot to face. Like for example, how did Katsuki feel? Did he even reciprocate feelings? What would your friendship look like after this?

You had to know. You were dying to know. "So?" You mumbled, now fiddling with your fingers.

Katsuki's hand was at his nape like yours was moments ago. He huffed, obviously looking for the words. "You know, if you're going to confess to someone you should be more up front about it." Katsuki took short steps towards you.

You just hoped he couldn't hear your heart banging against your ribcage, because that's basically all you could focus on.

"I know." You answered.

"Tch. And I guess in saying that I should be taking my own advice." He grumbled, moving his gaze to the tile again. Your body basically perked up at the sound of that.

"Katsuki, did you send me a candygram?" Your assumption aloud make Katsuki scoff, his face heating up more and his gaze wandering even further. Now that the tables seemed to be turned, you suppressed your laughter. You had been psyching yourself out this whole time but Katsuki was basically in the same boat as you.

"So, what do we do now, Kat?" You asked, you crossed your arms. A hopeful thought that since he reciprocated your feelings a relationship would come of it.

Katsuki scoffed, dropping his arm into having them crossed again. "What did I tell you about that stupid nickname, dumbass?"

You laughed at his scowl. Thankful that even after the sudden confession between you to didn't actually tint your dynamic like you theorized it would.

Katsuki huffed, not seeking to bicker with you anymore. "Are you free this Saturday?"

"Uh, yea—"

"Alright, then. Be ready by three." That's what you were left with as Katsuki turned on his heel and left the kitchen with whatever he had in the microwave.

Your mind was still registering what had just happened, but all you could do was thank your luck and Kirishima.

[petalsmooth]

Ok.

Let’s talk Lili.

First off we only know what stars put out about themselves or other people say about them. We are not friends with these people. We are not in their homes. We don’t usually hear what they say in unguarded conversation. What we know is what is out on social media with some highly distorted soundbites from chats or DM’s with her mother that were exposed.

We were initially presented a portrait pushed by her and her family no less of a middle class family with the standard girl next door hit it big narrative. Down to earth, relatable, somewhat quirky. Strong two parent supportive household. All that was missing were the apron and pearls.

This girl came out of the gates talking about a modernized Riverdale with two girls who would be actually close and not vying for the same redhead. Feel free to add/or correct along the way of course...especially early on when not following as closely.

We got very little in the way of insight into Cole and Lili because they were trying to keep it quiet even if there were hints together. Mostly during this period what fans were fed was that she was slightly awkward socially, maybe not the most intellectual but nice and harmless. She spoke of empowering women, independence, she constantly shut down the idea of Barchie and praised Bughead. Along through the year’s she would speak to social bullying or bullying in general. She would openly talk about struggles with mental health. She’d talk and show her cystic acne and share photos not all airbrushed in ode to body positivity. She’d talk about not having an hourglass figure, and cellulite and often go out in ratty shorts and a bun sans makeup. You see she’d talk about it then follow through by showing lived the walk or calling out photoshops done of her.

Again this is “relatable girl next door quirky Lili” we told was the REAL Lili.

She would frequently talk and post about her family and dogs at home and how much she loved and missed them...though oddly not so much her older sister.

At a certain point it became undeniable Cole and Lili were together to even the hardest deniers. Of course also the Met gala eventually made official for media.

We get have her liking posts such as Miley’s about how lucky she was to have a man who checked off all the boxes. But at times there were glimpses all wasn’t kosher. People have mentioned various cons where she’d be caught flirting somewhere else, or she’d be in a bad mood giving Cole a cold shoulder. We recently saw an old video of them walking and her basically demanding he drop the fans and attend her. We have the con were Camilla is sexually harassing Cole everywhere and Lili doesn’t shut it down until Camilla tries to grind on him. It was so bad even Mads intervened. We have the interview where she is talking over him or rolling her eyes and basically being the unprofessional brat her fans claim she is not. Even though it’s ON CAMERA. Snapping at your co worker/boyfriend and rolling your eyes during a professional interview is not deniable.

Flashforward to the trip to Italy because for me there was always something off about that. That trip was obviously planned far in advance. Clearly Lili was supposed to be there. Her fans quickly blamed Cole because Lili was working. Lili didn’t have to work. It wasn’t a career changing move to do that film. It did not do well. I’m not entirely sure what was happening around that time but I have the sense Cole was disappointed/a  little angry she prioritized it over him accepting very likely the offer AFTER the trip was planned.

Lili spirals during this time. Cole comes back to clean up mess. They are quiet on social media for a long time then slowly emerge again and eventually get the photo booth shots, the wedding and her mingling with NY friends for once. Turns out close to the end for them.

I don’t want to make this a Sprousehart post though although some relevance to bring part of it up. The point is Lili put her career over her relationship. It was a calculated decision. It was also the wrong decision. Her fans talk about her being this warm giving person but that was a cynical call and a pretty lousy thing to do to your boyfriend of several year’s. I’m all for supportive partners but there are time’s where you make sacrifices if you really care for someone and this was a special trip planned long in advance. She blew it off. If I’m the partner she does this too, I question why I’m putting in the effort if it doesn’t mean to them what it means to me. 

TBH I think the bad choices she made there is why tried to make it up by meeting with his friends, the wedding etc...

Something than clearly happened because by January they were done. Not sure we’ll ever know but it looked like they were trying to fix things given the happiness hadn’t seen on Cole’s faces in a long time in those booth pics and then...it was done. We didn’t know at the time, but this is timeline Cole gave. There was a brief attempt at reconciliation where she babysits him at a photo shoot and posts a photo of them in bed and then shortly after...Cole calls it off. 

He heads to LA, she follows him there but not without making sure to shove Casey’s face into her chest to post and rent a place close to where he is staying. She posts weepy messages about the world ending etc....and weird new photos mimicking old shoots with him so naturally people think this means whatever happened they worked through. Around same time she and hers manipulated her fans to try to cancel him earlier because she misunderstood a picture of Kaia....although flat out if he had been with Kaia he was SINGLE and it was no longer her business.

She tries to walk back the firestorm she unleashed on him by “defending” him from a lesser twitter trend after realizing misconstrued the Kaia picture, All summer she weirdly seems to be trying to avoid the topic if they are together or not despite saying once if they weren’t she’d tell people. She finally puts her foot in her mouth one two many times' and Cole confirms they broke up which she doesn’t acknowledge. Because she doesn’t want to be broken up.

As we know know it wasn’t all rainbows on the set even before all this happened as in the musical she’d launched an object at him hard enough to have the crew concerned. Lili fans keep saying Cole is abusive but the only evidence we have of abuse is her towards him. We also had her suddenly doing a 180 from past 4 year’s and excusing cheating with Archie and promoting everyone in her live recaps except Cole/Jughead.

Back to the events following Cole’s post....then we get a sudden string of interviews taking shots at Cole, doxxing him, implying he could have strayed (just to resurrect hate against him) but can’t say he actually did because she has no proof. We know this because in those chats admit it was just suspicion and paranoia and never did have any names.

We learn that Lili has been funneling news and gossip and photos to keep her mother’s hold on the fandom in check and her mother in turn has been bullying people who would stand on Cole’s side. They sought to ruin him. This is not debatable.

For year’s people had made fun and called Bree out for being an obsessive stalker unable to let a relationship go, then Lili starts doing the same. We know she has tried to copy Ari’s style, her mother made a snide comment about breast size, Lili tried to taunt Ari from on set and Ari shut her down. A girl who almost never was in the line of sight of paps suddenly is snapped everyday following break up even before the public new. That doesn’t just happen. She wanted the attention.

I’m not going to go into all of it, you all know it. Suffice to say revealing she has a bitter vindictive attitude she has submersed herself in ever since Cole made it clear no reunion. She won’t even broach the topic of Bughead/Jughead unless forced. You can spin all you like but the split screens was not an artistic choice by RD. It was spurred by need to keep them apart.

Lili last summer was doing precious little other than a post or two of Black Lives matter and then when Cole gets arrested suddenly she jumps on the me too and sets up impulsive lives. Maybe she meant well but a part of me thinks she did it to attract his attention. Notice once she got praise for it and the initial protests faded she more or less doesn’t bring it up anymore. Cole never intended to get attention, it just happened because he’s a star and got taken in to a jail cell. He never put himself on camera for notice. 

Lili also co-opts the murder of a girl to flaunt she thinks she looks good naked. Completely tone deaf. 

Lili very rarely is seen in fan photos, only usually when she’s getting flack for it online. She, a girl who talks about bullying, went on a  midnight tirade against a guy who dares to critique or poetry setting her fans on him. Then deleted it probably because publicist in her ear.

She first said poems not about Cole, than said you could read into what you wanted to sell them. Now she doesn’t want to talk poetry or sequels because it flopped and was critically panned.

There are constant rumors about Lili on sets of productions to point they even had someone on her newer movie try to downplay. Yet we see in a video the cast barely talking and looking tense on a boat. 

The girl who used to talk about body positivity now lets them airbrush abs onto her.

The girl who used to talk of therapy and mental illness now promotes OTC supplements for $ and cults.

If she mentions cellulite she uses other tik toks of people showing not her own. 

She said she would never be on tik tok, yet now has her own and post old videos that aren’t funny.

Lili once tired to attack Cole by talking about losing yourself in drugs or alcohol or sex yet we’ve seen her drug paraphernalia because she advertises. Her friends post and laugh over her being drunk. She was in an off and on relationship with Wallis that doesn’t seem to be about anything but sex.

We were told Coles friends are bad influences but Taylor is out there solicitating questionable clients and making videos slamming LILI’S COWORKER as a bad actor and his brother,

The majority of Lili’s posts no longer feature Sunny or her family/Addy. 

She insulted Vancouver, compared to a prison, and made it clear her creature comforts were of more importance than a pandemic. Not quite the attitude of an empath. Which she claims she is with intention to be a master which require sucking more gullible people into the cult.

She brags about being a “rich man” without understand the context. She went from artistic photos to modeling pinups to fuel her lack of self esteem.

She’s in her mid 20′s, claims she had grown and matured in the last year but there is no evidence of it. Still can’t work with her ex without buffers which still influences show direction though her fans deny.. Still lives off junk food and hangovers. Those glasses aren’t just for sun. Her timeline is mostly an ode to her vanity with pictures of herself and then her dog. She doesn’t seem to have any causes she’s deeply involved in on the side apart from her cult. She’s still stalking Cole as her impulsive makeup tutorial showed. She said she cut out of her life anyone who doesn’t service her. I highly doubt she is receiving quality therapy on the regular right now. She still does not seem to possess the ability to own her mistakes and apologize when warranted, rather deflects or erases when heat becomes too hot.

The content she puts out about herself post break up is very different than the bill of goods fans were sold before. She is a far cry from that quirky girl next door that stood FOR something more than vanity and shallow affirmation. So no, I don’t see what you see in her stans. Everything that once seemed to distinguish her from other spoilt princesses has long faded. 

[cursestothemoon]

Werewolves Of London ( I )

Multiple Part Series

Part I

When Their Eyes Locked 

Word Count: 2016

Fred Weasley x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Summary: Fred can’t seem to stop himself from staring at you. What happens when your eyes lock? 

Warnings: raunchy banter, description of turning into a werewolf (description of pain and screaming), being in pain, Y/n has a very prominent scar on her face idk if this is a warning (personally i don’t think it is but you can never be too careful😌)

A/N: Alrighttttt chapter one guys, pretty exciting😗. It’s kinda slow, really just introducing characters, background, and existing relationships. AH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE ITTTT, also best friend Lily makes a comeback (not Lily Evans)

“Come on! We’re gonna miss it!”

“We’re not gonna miss shit, either it happens here or it happens there.”

“I’d prefer the latter.”

Cedric let out a snort as he looked back at you, his scarf flapping in the wind and nearly hitting him in the face.

The wind was harsh this Saturday evening, overcast and gloomy, as three students were making their way to the Whomping Willow. The trek was meant to be a quiet one, a sneaky departure from the castle, but of course that was never the case. Not when Cedric Diggory seemed to ooze happiness and joy with each step, his smile warming the crisp, cool air around him; not when Lily Mclaggen (older sister of Cormac) had just as much snap as her brother had confidence and especially not when Y/n L/n, a sarcastic lycanthrope, was about seven minutes away from being in the midst of the full moon.

A sickeningly loud cracking started to sound from behind Cedric, making him turn to see you doubled over.

“Lily!”

“Calm down!”

You groaned, “I’m fine, let’s just go.”

Lily hooked her arm around your waist, shoving you toward the Whomping Willow that Cedric had fortunately petrified. You were able to just catch the familiar badger disappear into the hole under the tree. The pain was excruciating, making your knees give way and your body hit the ground as you felt what seemed to be your bones breaking, muscles tearing, skin stretching to accommodate the form of a beastly form. Groans and screams were pulled from your throat as you transformed, your hands scratching at your neck- or any exposed skin really- to somehow try and claw the pain away.

One last blood curdling scream turned into a strangled howl at the bright moon.

The werewolf stood up, shaking off the dirt from the ground, before snapping at whatever was nipping at its tail. A bone-chilling laugh sounded in the dim tunnel before the hyena gestured toward the badger to start making their way to the shrieking shack through the dark tunnel- the werewolf followed, it didn’t like being alone for long.

--

“Let’s go Fred, before Filch catches up.” George huffed out, his chest heaving from the vigorous running his lungs had to endure just moments prior.

His twin stood still, faint breaths passing from his lips the only thing being heard, his honey brown eyes taking in the vastness of the dark navy sky before him.

Fred had always loved the moon.

If he thought about it hard enough, George could still feel the harsh swats to his rear from when their mother found them out in the field behind the Burrow after Fred had insisted on sneaking out to look at the moon.

George groaned, “It’s just the moon, it’ll be there tomorrow, the day after that and I’m willing to bet my left ear that the moon will be there everyday after that.”

“Yeah but,” Fred grumbled, dramatically gesturing toward the sky with his hand. “It’s a full moon tonight, won’t be full tomorrow now will it?”

The attitude was clear in his tone, even more so in his raised eyebrows and pointed look. George conceded with a laugh, muttering out an ‘alright, Freddie’.

A piercing howl ripped through the silence making the brothers jump and look toward where it had come from- somewhere down near Hogsmeade they’d guess.

Fred slowly turned to his brother, speaking just barely above a whisper, “You think it was a werewolf?”

He had the same glint of mischief in his eyes that he’d get when he was younger and itching to tell a scary story.

George only shook his head, “In Hogsmeade?” He questioned. “Surely, you’re daft Freddie, what would a werewolf be doing in Hogsmeade?”

A shrug was his only response, before he added, “Wouldn’t be too surprising now would it? We’ve got a pink toad in Hogwarts.”

---

Your steps were slow and calculated as you made your way to the Great Hall. Cedric had his arm around your shoulder, no doubt trying to subtly check and see if the bandages he wrapped had held up when you changed into fresh clothes, and Lily had a habit of walking one or two steps behind you just after a full moon- you had a habit of stumbling or even losing balance completely during the few days following.

“You’re looking a lot better than last time, walking around and not stuck in the hospital wing.” Lily commented quietly.

Cedric nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s rather boring without your company.”

The comment was meant to rile up Lily, which it did beautifully.

“Right git you are, Diggory, you’re the boring one. You prefects, I swear-”

Lily continued on to grumble about all prefects being the same as you three made it through the doors and to your usual seats- the farthest table to the right, near the large window, and in between a few Hufflepuffs and a couple scattered Gryffindors.

Heat seemed to trail up your shoulder and to your face, the feeling of eyes on you had you inwardly wincing. You never felt too confident the morning after a full moon and it was most mornings that you could feel the heated weight of Fred Weasley���s eyes on you. Amazingly enough, you resisted the urge to turn and meet his gaze instead opting for taking a seat on the bench in between Cedric and Lily and placing your head on Lily’s shoulder lethargically.

On the other side of the room, Lee was slowly chewing on his bite of sugary cereal as he studied the eldest twin.

“You know, mate, you could just talk to her.” He offered up, making Fred rapidly blink as he was brought back to reality.

He frowned, “We’ve been in the same house for seven years, if she wanted to talk to me… she would’ve.”

His eyes seemed to naturally shift back to your form. You were half asleep, head resting on your friend’s shoulder as prettyboy Diggory couldn’t seem to wipe the bright smile off his face so early in the morning.

Fred had always noticed you. In your first year you had offered him your seat in potions next to George because it ‘didn’t feel right’ splitting him and George up on the first day of school- or so you had said before you went to sit next to another first year, Lily.

Second year was when he started to really pay attention to the rather heartwarming- or so Angelina had called it- closeness of your relationship with Lily. You were a sickly child, it seemed almost every month you had come down with something. Fred could remember seeing little twelve year old you sitting near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, head on Lily’s shoulder just as it was now and your face incredibly pale yet a warm smile still gracing your lips.

It was the third year when Fred started to realize his curious looks and sweaty palms were not something that just happened. He liked you. The quiet remarks you made under your breath and comedically uncontrollable reactions had him swooning. Third year was also the year that the infamous duo of Y/n and Lily had turned into a trio, prettyboy Diggory finding a cozy spot attached to your hip. It seemed everywhere you went, Cedric was there too.

It was during third year Fred learned about jealousy.

“How do you suppose she got her scar?” Lee asked in a hushed voice not wanting to be overheard.

Fred thought back to when he had first seen you with the gash trailing down from the arch of your left eyebrow to the apple of your right cheek, passing over the bridge of your nose. Sure he had seen you roughed up before, mundane bruises and scratches he imagines you received from being clumsy or maybe roughhousing with siblings he didn’t know you had (Merlin knows Fred himself had enough marks from his brothers roughing him up, all in good fun of course). This was different- violent, it seemed- nothing friendly could’ve made such an angry infliction.

“Does it matter?” Fred mumbled rather defensively. “She’s still...angelic.” He muttered with little regard as to what he was actually saying- his attention was stolen by the grimace that darkened your face as you shifted in your seat to reach for a box of chocolatey cereal.

George faked a dramatic gag, “Sods been a right sap for that girl for years now, still hasn't done a single thing.”

“Give him time,” Lee laughed, moving to shove Fred’s arm teasingly. “Fred’ll man up eventually.”

The seemingly lovestruck boy rolled his eyes at the two, “Fuck off, both of you wankers.”

--

The full moon and weekend had come and gone, the bitter taste of the start of a new school week was on everyone’s tongue as they made their way to their last class Monday afternoon.

You trudged into the dimly lit potions room, the brooding figure of Severus Snape doing nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

“Afternoon, Professor.” You quietly greeted as you slid into your seat.

The man seemed to only grumble out a response, not deeming a proper return of greeting worthy of his time- though you preferred this, rather not wanting to strike up a conversation with the potions Professor.

Lily clambered into the seat beside you, her usual seat, just a few seconds before class started. Her hair was frazzled and her tie a tad askew, silently you handed her a compact mirror from your book bag- though the smirk on your lips was loud.

“Don’t look so smug.” She teased, hand combing down her hair. “You’ve seen the thighs on Natasha Ravenforth, was I just supposed to deny myself the pleasure?”

Her tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and questioning almost as if she really couldn’t fathom the thought of not snogging the curvy Hufflepuff just before class. You kept silent, though your smile grew as you felt Lily’s eyes trained on you before she huffed and looked toward Professor Snape who was now beginning his lesson.

The class seemed to drone on, a long lecture from the monotone Severus Snape the only thing filling the agenda had the pace of the lesson slowed to an aching crawl. As your ears started to tune out his painful drawl you noticed it. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch or a twitch you just couldn’t shake, you could feel someone’s eyes on you. You turned to meet the person’s gaze, curiosity indeed killed the cat, and you were met with the honey-brown irises of none other than Fred Weasley. He seemed to be looking at you, or just passed you, with his chin resting on his folded forearms. His lack of reaction to you catching him staring led you to believe he was far too zoned out to know what he was doing, that is until he blinked a few times and his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

You didn’t really know him. Fred Weasley seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once, he was elusive and loud and if you weren’t careful you’d definitely find yourself falling for his toothy grin or boyish charm.

Your eyes seem to lock and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the feeling fluttering deep within your chest at the way his facial expression seemed to soften and his head tilt ever so gently as his eyes swam with what you could only describe as- for lack of better words- wonder.

A nudge to your ribs brought you back to reality, Lily’s elbow still prodding at your torso until you turned to face the front of the class again just as Professor Snape was turning away from the board he had stuck his nose to whilst writing notes.

With one glance at Lily you could see the irritatingly smug smirk stretching across her face, her eyes still looking forward.

“Don’t look so smug.” You grumbled, roughly picking up your quill to take down notes.

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

[icyymocha]

Acts of Kindness

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Bucky loathing, insecurities

word count: 2,285 

Summary: From the beginning you both started dating, he was never one for showing affections, always opting to hold your hand; the bare minimum of showing any love to you physically. Bucky would show you his undying love for you through small acts of kindness and services. Throughout his life, the super-soldier was taught to be a gentleman. Always paying attention to his loved ones before he puts himself and his needs first. He’s always the believer who thought, ‘actions speak louder than words,’ kind of guy.

Bucky was disoriented and bitter. He was emotionless but it never meant he never had his moments of vulnerability. When Bucky was brought back from the blip and experienced his best friend leaving him with Sam and getting the worst therapist, he was so, so, so tired. He disconnected everyone—even his other best friend, Sam Wilson. Having a bloodbath of a past, he couldn’t stand being in a room with people, fearing he would hurt them again. He wasn’t himself. That was until he met you. You were kind and understanding. Unlike everyone, you weren’t walking on eggshells whenever it’s about him. You always showed him that you only saw him as a person instead of a monster. Bucky feels a warm feeling whenever he’s around you, yet he’s always stifling himself whenever you show small gestures of kindness that make his knees go weak.

Bucky thought he was showing how he felt around you and others (even if all he does is grunt and stiffen or stare when people are around). It wasn’t always like that it was the opposite for you. You thought he hated your presence, always noticing how he stiffens like a wooden board. So you started to distance yourself. Only believing he hates you and noting how he doesn’t like what you do. Oh, If only you knew. The first few weeks when you weren’t doing your usual morning routines (he’s not a stalker, he’s an observant person, guys) Bucky was confused and frowned. He didn’t push it and nevertheless continued on his day—ignoring the yearning feeling for you. Then, another few weeks came by, and then a month and, so on. Bucky was frustrated. Why were you ignoring him? Did he do something wrong? Did you finally see the monster he truly was from the inside? No….

He shook the thought away. He couldn’t have you be afraid of him now, not now, not after when it’s your fault for giving him these strange feelings. Sam pointed out he had a crush on you, but he was a stubborn bull and bluntly said “it’ll go away.” Wrong. He was so wrong.

So, after weeks of planning, Bucky decided to show his first act of kindness towards you. He prepped himself to have a bit of confidence in the mirror, having Sam forcing telling him to ‘man up’ By the time it was time to go and meet you (Sam setting the both of you up), Bucky protested and complained. Knowing how much of an asshole he was and how he took your kindness for granted. At this point, Sam was annoyed and being the best wingman he is (no pun intended), shoved him out of his apartment and dragged his ass to the place where you both met. The park. It was simple yet cliché. But Bucky, he was more than glad he had met you—by err running into you and knocking you off the ground by accident. He profusely apologized yet you laughed it off as if it was nothing. Months after the blip, he thought no one would recognize him, but he was wrong. He simply forgot you used to work for Shield and was there during the fight against Thanos. How could he have ever forgotten about you? You were there, since day one during the civil war, had he not realized about your presence? Either way, he was ecstatic.

Seeing you there all dolled up, Bucky hesitated. Sam huffed and shoved him a bit further more into your direction; Bucky glared at him. Nervous was an understatement. But Bucky was more than nervous. Every bundle of nerves in his body wanted him to run away but his heart told him to express his feelings towards you. Clearing his throat, you turned around and was surprised to see him there. Not like you were complaining. Bucky was wearing his usual black clothing but he always looked handsome.

“I didn’t think to see you here Buck,” you said, surprise written all over your face

“Well me either” Bucky said bluntly

Stupid, stupid, stupid—he heard Sam say in his comm.

“I—uh, I mean, Sam forced me to meet you” Bucky coughed awkwardly

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking upwards. His com is full of Sam’s ridiculous laughter and annoying remarks. He is so going to kill Sam.

“Well that’s unfortunate, too bad Sam’s missing out the fun,” you joked

The stiff tension in Bucky's shoulder relaxed a bit. Okay, good so far...

“Yeah, you’re right, doll”

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Bucky looked down at the ground. Being around you was already making him shy away from but talking to you for the first time with a full conversation made his heartbeats rapidly

“Uh I got you something”

“Oh?”

Handing you a bag in your direction. Bucky waited until you looked inside. Anxiety eating him up to see how you react to his gift.

The bag in your hand felt heavy. You trusted Bucky, even more so than Sam (not like you’re ever gonna tell him that). You slowly opened the bag to see it filled with a variety of gifts. Your eyes widened.

Inside, there was a copy of your favorite mug you had broken during a food fight with Natasha. Next, were boxes of your favorite foods and chocolates. Then, a small amount of jewelry and a sweater with your favorite band. Others were some of your favorite novels. Last, was a letter? Wait, a letter from Bucky? That’s new.

You put down the gift bag and carefully opened the letter you assumed was written by Bucky.

Dear Y/n,

Uh, I don’t know where to start but nothing I do could match for all the acts of kindness you had shown me throughout the years.

I, uh, I’m sorry for all the shit you had to put up from me. I acted like an ass and I took everything for granted of your consideration for me. I never realized I hadn’t told you how I felt about you until you started to distance yourself around me. It’s not your fault, I understand.

Being known as a weapon from Hydra and a murder for killing the innocence of people, I understand if you’ve distanced yourself because of that. I never meant to scare you away. It’s quite far from that.

I always wanted to express how I felt around you. The way you gave me a warm feeling inside of me, made me feel loved and cared for. But I was never one for physical contact and I never know how to act around you nor tell you words about it. No words could ever describe what you mean to me, how much beauty you hold can have everyone look at you. If I’m being honest, you got me whipped and so is everyone else around your finger.

It was clear to me that I wasn’t always the best with people nor did I care enough to see how my actions or words could affect a person. I never realized I didn’t observe a person’s well-being enough to understand that this would create a drift between you and me. I’m sorry I never communicated with you—regardless even it’s just a quick yes or no question.

Sincerely,

James Buchanan Barnes.

It was eerily quiet. The tension between both couples was awkward. Bucky didn’t know whether to stay or leave and dig his grave six feet down in secondhand embarrassment. He quickly looked down at the ground, ashamed. He had a feeling he should’ve never written that letter to you, it was stupid and a dumb idea. Thoughts raced through his head; his fear of rejection of you leaving him. He lost so many people in his life, Bucky would’ve been devastated if you left because of him. It would be beyond the repair of what’s left of him that Bucky gave to you each day, pieces by pieces. Shallow breathes became heavier but Bucky gulped painfully, ignoring the burning feeling in his throat for a release of hot air.

What if this is the end? What if you hated him now? What if you left him because you found out who he truly was? What if you left because he never approached you as other people did? What if-

A gentle motion of a hand grazed his right bicep soothingly. He gulped even harder. This is it, Bucky tells himself. Yet no harsh words came at him nor did the mercilessness of a slap come towards him. But, two fingers grabbing a hold of his chin, forcing him to look up at the eyes that took his breath away.

“Bucky?” y/n whispered

closing his eyes, he waited for the rejection but it never came. He waited and waited. Feeling the warmth of two soft hands cradling his face, he leaned into their touch.

“This is really touching, thank you.” Y/n thanked, peppering kisses around his face. Their hands caressing his face, feeling the little stubbles underneath their fingers. Bucky’s whole body wanted to melt right then and there, already thinking how he needed their touch from now on.

Nuzzling into his neck, you murmured a sweet confession. Bucky already thought his heart had melted but no, it very much exploded—already so overwhelmed with this new profound feeling of love.

As much as Bucky savored the sweet moment with y/n, Sam had to interrupt it

“Are you lovebirds done yet?”

“I can’t stand watching an old man be all sappy,”

“Oooo Bucky's gonna get it,”

“We all know he’s gonna get laid y/n.”

Cue Sam fake gagging noises in Bucky’s com

Y/n giggled while Bucky clenched his jaw. His eyebrows furrowed and his crystal blue eyes darkened, he was ready to beat Sam’s ass for ruining the moment. You watched as Sam screamed for his life in and out of the park while a certain super soldier shouted profanities at him. It went on for a while. And during those moments, you recorded it all and saved a backup just in case to tease Sam about it. (You’ll never forget how Sam screamed like a little girl)

From the beginning you both started dating, he was never one for showing affections, always opting to hold your hand; the bare minimum of showing any love to you physically. Bucky would show you his undying love for you through small acts of kindness and services. Throughout his life, the super-soldier was taught to be a gentleman. Always paying attention to his loved ones before he puts himself and his needs first. He’s always the believer who thought, ‘actions speak louder than words,’ kind of guy.

He would always show ways of his way of saying, “I love you,” by refilling your cup in the mornings. Always made sure you were fed and hydrated throughout the day. He would ask if you need anything for personal needs, replacing your nightly skin routine when he thinks it’s almost finished. 

Whenever you have errands to run or missions to accomplish, Bucky always insisted to come with you whether you like it or not. He’s always so protective towards you and his biggest fear is ever losing you. He could never imagine hurting you or having you get hurt by something or someone without him being there to rescue you in time. A lot of insecurities were passing through his head, having that one voice in the dark corners of his mind, always wondering why? Why did you choose him? Bucky only saw his reflection nothing more but a weapon. A freak. When you found out about his insecurities, you made sure he was your first priority, always giving him extra love and attention. 

So, when weeks have passed by after that incident. Bucky found out you were a very affectionate person, more so before the two of you had gotten into a relationship. You loved feeling the arms of your lover; always feeling safe. You quickly learned that Bucky is now your personal coddler for warmth the first time he hugged you as you loved the sentiment and the thoughts of being held in a warm embrace. 

From then on, as Bucky kept pampering you, ignoring your protests and complaints, he made sure every need of yours was taken care of. Whenever Bucky feels like you are having a bad down overall, he would quietly take you to your guy’s shared bedroom and cuddle in silence, occasionally lazily tracing patterns and shapes to your back. Bucky was never the one to voice out his love, always thinking intimacy is better than a couple of futile words that cannot be compared to much love he has for you. If he wanted to, Bucky would shout out compliments and his love for you to the world yet it would never be enough. It would never be enough in his mind. You were his. And he would always make sure that his love is heard, whether he silently does so. The whole moment felt like a blur. Everything went by eerily quickly. Two years felt like two days being in a relationship together. Yet, Bucky is still the man who believes in, “Actions speak louder than words.” Nevertheless, he would never resist your charms and soft touches here and there. Those loving moments between the two of you as you cuddle in bed after a night full of passion, lazily tracing shapes and patterns on your guys' skin. Even if you had to do it in private, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[harold231]

It wasn't real

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Posted: 04/30/2021

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None? Maybe a lil angst just a lel bet.

A/N: I think it might be good? Idk You let me know. But like frfr, don't just give me feedback in your mind, put it into words. Also I apparently have a thing for Bucky in a dotted apron soooo yeah.

FYI: time zone/era is open for interpretation. Bucky never became an avenger/soldat and steve isn't part of this one.

The wind that blew around you was warm and sweet with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers. Perhaps it was an act of kindness from some God trying to distract you from the cold bitterness settling into your bones. Closing your eyes you conjure the very memory that left you so desolate.

The sun snuck it's way through the curtains to illuminate the room, effectively disturbing the sleep that you always seemed to be craving. Waking up is always hassle but whenever you remember that you get to spend your day with the only person who tolerates you and you him, getting out of bed is the easiest thing. Bucky is crazy and the damn boy is never in one spot for to long and he always has something to say, but you can't imagine how boring your days would be if you guys had never met. well technically if your parents had never met.

When you were a child you parents had to move to new york for business and they decided that Brooklyn was the place to be. You had been Bucky's neighbor and the first day you guys moved in his mom had dragged him over with the most delicious angel food cake that he so proudly claimed to have made mostly on his own. He just loved cooking and baking since forever, he would tell you that he just liked experimenting with foods but you knew the truth was that the boy liked to eat and didn't have the patience to wait for his mother to come home.

Only a few years after your family had moved to Brooklyn you and Bucky had already built an unbreakable bond. You guys had found a beautiful cherry tree one day when playing tag and had deemed it to be your's and Bucky's spot. Whenever you had a bad day or needed time away from the world you guys would go to the tree and just pick cherries, in the winter time you and Bucky would lay under the tree and kick the trunk so that the snow would fall from the leaves. It was the place where at only 15 years old bucky swore he would open his own Bakery and to quote him "I'm serving my ma's food my way doll, It's gonna be the next best thing to hit New York."

You were laying on the ground with your hands crossed behind your head looking up at Bucky swinging upside down from a branch when he told you all this. You felt something you had never felt before at that moment, looking up at the wild haired boy who loved to eat, loved his family, and had the most ambition you had ever heard from kids your age. Your heart felt full and your cheeks grew warm as you looked up at the same blue eyes you had know for years now, only this time you notice the way they twinkle in the sunlight and how rosy his lips are. Now 7 years laters you and Bucky were preparing to open the very bakery he promised you he'd open. Banners were beautifully strung along the walls and cute retro china was set out, ready to be filled for opening day. There was no hesitation from you when Bucky had asked you to run the bakery with him, you were excited to spend your days with the person you hoped you would spend the rest of your life with.

At around 6:30 in the morning you had arrived at the bakery but it seemed that Bucky had beat you to it. The smell of fresh angel food cake and cocoa danced up your nose as soon as you opened the door. Closing your eyes you smiled at the memories that it brought back. Moving to the back you grabbed your Disney themed apron and placed your bag and coat in its place before scurrying over to the kitchen while trying (and failing) to tie your apron. There in all his dorkiness was Bucky wiggling around to the chordettes. He knew that you loved the 50's aesthetic so he found a way to incorporate it without going overboard, by adding little trinkets, a jukebox, and even those cute little dining tables. In fact at the moment he was wearing a ruffly red polka dotted apron as he frosted some cupcakes.

Apron tied, you were finally ready to get to work. You walked up to Bucky bumping his hip as you reached for some cupcake pans, "Whatcha doin here so early Buck, we don't open until 12" he looks at you with squinted eyes, "The hell are you doing here so early." "Woah,woah,woah completely unprovoked. I'm just saying cuz' you were the one complaining about the opening time being set at 8. Like damn." Breathing out a huff of air he wipes his forehead with a towel "I'm sorry doll, I'm just super nervous and I couldn't sleep so I came to start baking things. I already frosted the ice cream cakes and I just finished the pies, but I was thinking that maybe we needed some cupcakes too, even though we already baked so many pastries and stuff last night I'm worried it won't be enough."

Setting down the trays you move to hug Bucky from behind holding him close to you. "Buck I know we'll do great your food is too good to pass up on especially when it's free." You place a soft kiss to his shoulder " I promise you'll do great, everything you do is amazing you try your hardest at everything Buck, You've worked your butt off and made mine considerably larger to get here, don't start losing your mind on me now." A cute little laugh from Bucky lets you know that he's hearing you and he isn't so stressed anymore. "I just want this to be perfect ya know?" with your head still against his back you nod, "I just want it to be a special day for my special girl."

You couldn't stop the slight blush that rose to your cheeks or the way that your heart suddenly started beating three times faster. You had also wanted to make him something special which is why you had got here so early. Finally releasing your hold on Bucky you straighten your apron out before gathering everything you need for some red velvet cupcakes. Bucky loved your red velvet cake so you loved making it for him. After hours of mixing, baking, and frosting had passed, you guys were rewarded with a bakery that looked as great as it smelled. "Alright doll, I'm heading out, I gotta go get ready. Meet you back here at 12 , Love ya." He didn't even give you a chance to answer as he ran right out the door. "Love you too."

You had stayed behind just a little while longer as you perfected your secret project. Carefully you added snowflakes to some of the cupcakes because you knew how much he loved snow even if he hated winter, some cats, flowers that reminded you of bucky, and one extra special cupcake. When you finish you decide to clean up a bit more and prepare some drinks for later before heading home to get ready. As soon as you got home you took a shower and did the simplest of make up with a light pink lip. You had decided to wear a dress to match the blossoming flowers that spring had brought. Pink with a yellow lace trim and flowers embroided all over the dress, matching it with some yellow flats.

You had decided that it was a perfect day for a walk so you grabbed a light scarf and slung it over your shoulders, grabbed Bucky's cupcakes, and headed over to the bakery. You felt as if a Hundred pounds had been lifted from your shoulders knowing that Bucky had felt the same way about you. You had decided that you would tell him today with your special cupcakes. As you rounded the corner you felt giddy and you couldn't wipe the smile from your face no matter how hard you tried. As you reached the bakery you saw that a majority of the people had already arrived and you knew that it would put Bucky at ease to see all the people enjoying his food. You stopped at the window, closing your eyes to take a deep breath to prepare yourself to join the celebration.

Opening your eyes you reached for the handle only to stop at the sight on the other side of the door. Bucky stood there arms wrapped around a woman eyes locked on hers as he leaned in for a kiss. It must have all happened in about 30 seconds but it felt as if time himself had slowed it down for you to watch the way he tilted her head and ran his tongue along her bottom lip before finally uniting their lips. Your heart dropped as quickly as your smile did and suddenly you felt so stupid for thinking this could be real. You willed yourself not to cry as you allowed your legs to carry you anywhere but there.

That's how you found yourself sitting underneath a blossoming cherry tree. A tree that held only happy memories because it wasn't a place you could be sad... back then. With your back against the tree and box of cupcakes full of unrequited love in your lap you realize how much you over romanticized Bucky. Opening the box you decide it would be a shame to let them go to waste. The first one you grab has a big red heart frosted in the middle, you let out a deep sigh before breaking the cupcake right down the middle. You shove half of the cupcake into your mouth and only then do you allow the tears to fall. You sat there for hours crying eating cupcakes, watching the sunset, and thinking about everything that Bucky did for you, as a friend. You realize you had no right to be angry at Bucky, after all you never told him how you felt you just assumed that he would feel the same way after so many years. With every broken memory another cupcake vanished.

He was always there for you, when no one wanted to come to your slumber party Bucky did and he even did all the girly things with you. Painting your nails, doing your hair, watching chick flicks, and pillow fights. once he even asserted that no one could protect you as well as he could, when you had decided to go camping with your friend from class so he insisted on taking you himself. Your friend was most noticeably gay so you had assumed he wanted to spend time alone with you. But now that you think back on those memories these are things that anyone would do for their bestfriend. And that's what you realized 8 hours and 11 cupcakes later.

The moon floated above you and as it's white rays settled upon the lake you decided it might be time to go home now. You get up and dust your dress off before leaning down to grab the mostly empty box. Turning around you are stopped again by what's in front of you. Bucky stands there brows furrowed as his eyes flash from you to the box in your hands. "Where the hell have you been, I've been calling you all day." swallowing the lump in your throat you go to answer but are interrupted. " everyone's been asking me about you all night and I had no damn idea what to tell them, but apparently you were just out here being inconsiderate. You go and tell me I can do great tonight, that you'd be there for me, but you weren't." You try to answer him but are again interrupted. "You could have told me something earlier instead of leaving me there like a dumb-" "SHUT UP!" this time it was your turn to interrupt him.

Taking a deep breath you look into his eyes before explaining. "Of course I was ready to be there today, you think I wore this dress to sit under a damn tree? Well I didn't. When I left my apartment I was ready and I was excited, so excited. I couldn't even stop smiling on my way over, but then I got to the shop and I saw-" Immediately you stopped as you realized what you were about to say. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head slightly as if to say 'Hello?' "You saw what? What did you see that would make you abandon ship just like that?" Shame flushed through your being and you could no longer keep eye contact. "Nothing, you know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry I was being dramatic I should have been an adult and dealt with it on my own time. And I'm sorry I abandoned you all, but the night was about you anyways."

"The night was supposed to be about the both of us so it does matter if you saw something that made you want to leave. Just tell me doll, what did you see?" his voice is soft as he pleads with you. "I saw... well I saw you kissing that lady and I just wanted get away and ended up here okay!?" You said it all in a jumble hoping that he wouldn't be able to understand what you had said. But luck wasn't your friend so of course he did. "So seeing me kiss another person was so gross to you that you had to run away, what the hell? are you 13 again?" You hadn't admitted it outloud yet and it seemed that the dumbass in front of you was going to force it out of you.

Stepping around Bucky you pull your scarf tight around your body as you focus on not crying anymore until you get home. You distract yourself by thinking of all the love you saw in all the little things Bucky did for you. Dancing around the newly furnished bakery body against body as frank sinatra brought you heart to heart, watching rom-coms and ugly crying together, but by the time you get home you force yourself to face the ugly truth. The Love was always in your head. It wasn't real.

A new wave of tears blurred your vision as teardrops fell perfectly to the ground. "It's because I have feelings for you Bucky, and I now know you don't feel the same way." Sniffling you don't bother looking up because your heart is to broken for that right now. "I'm Just gonna need a little bit of time and I'll be back good as new like nothing even happened." Still unable to lift your gaze from the ground you decide to focus on the last cupcake left in the box. 'I Love You' is written in tiny light blue frosting letters. "I uhm, uhh." That brought your attention to Bucky, as embarrassment pulsed as strong as ever through your veins. " You don't have to say anything Buck, It's fine, I'll see you next week, on monday" you hand him the box as you go to pass him "I think you would have a better use for this than me I ate 11 others already so."

Divider credits: @firefly-graphics

[ranveer--singh]

Dilbaro - O beloved (Henry Cavill x Indian Reader one shot)

A/N: So one of my friends got engaged last year and it got me in a massive wedding mood. So I decided to write this one shot of Henry marrying his Indian bride in Udaipur. Hope you all enjoy this, likes, comments and feedback appreciated.

3rd July 2019, on a scorching hot summer day Laila Kapadia and Henry Cavill were ready to tie the knot in front of their family and friends. Udaipur, India was where Henry proposed to Laila over a year ago and which also is the destination for the wedding.  Laila was Indian, born in England and her soon to be husband, Henry, was English, born in Jersey and regardless of the two cultures and family backgrounds, the whole everyone got on like a house of fire.

Laila yawned, scratching her head as she was woken up by her best friend the maid of honor. She was shoved into the bathroom to brush her teeth and have a shower while the hairdresser arrived. Henry, on the other hand, was finally ready just adjusting his red and gold embroidered sherwani for the last time. He smiled into the mirror seeing how dapper he looked. The wedding was to start in three and a half hours, giving Laila time to get ready and put on her heavy lehenga.

The weather in Udaipur was unbearable, making Henry want to take his sherwani off, sit in his underwear with the AC on. Everything was pinned, tied and knotted together making it a chore to take of and then, later on, put it back on so Henry grabbed a jug of water and some ice and started to drink to cool himself down. Laila, on the other hand, had just stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed. She slipped into her underwear and applied her body lotion before sitting on the chair letting the hairdresser do her hair.

Laila smiled, her heart filled with joy as she was excited to finally be marrying her one true love. This past year had been a long stressful year with her losing her grandmother, moving from Manchester to London. Apart from losing her grandmother, moving to London was great and gave her time to decorate their new home the way they wanted it. Henry had a busy year also, finishing shooting hos latest movie, planning other business adventures and charities he loved to spend time with and help.

Henry downed another glass of water sitting with his brother, dad, best man and his close friends as they all started to eat breakfast. Since dating Laila he has been exposed to a wide range of indian food. Sweet, savory, spicy and bitter and he at first wasn’t sure but as the weeks past his taste buds grew. He ditched the morning coffee for an aromatic cup of Indian chai filled with cinnamon and cardamom. Henry had to explain to everyone what they were eating which was puri and shaak ( deep fried bread with hot potato curry) a famous dish from the Gujarat region which Laila made once a month when it was her time of the month and cravings were on overdrive.

The hairdresser finished Laila’s hair which was tied up in fishtail plait and showed off the brown highlights through her black hair. The makeup artist finally arrived to glam her up before she could put on her outfit and have some food. She was starving and hadn’t eaten much since 10pm last night, still sitting in her chair getting makeup done her friends and family put on some music. They all danced and sung along, Laila joining in singing a few lines trying not to ruin the makeup.

It reached the two-hour mark. At Henry’s household, everyone had finished eating and were all taking pictures and what not before the cars finally arrive. A white Rolls Royce awaited for the groom and his best man while the others sat in a limo heading to the venue first. Henry looked in the mirror one last time, taking a selfie to show his bride later, he downed yet another glass of cold water before leaving the house and stepping into the car with his best friend. Henry leg shook with nervous and excitement through the whole journey to the venue, he could wait to make Laila his bride.

Finally, Laila was in her red and gold velvet lengha, her mum helped her put on the jewellery while her best friend put on her gold encrusted heels on her. Few pictures, selfies and group shots were taken before Laila’s mum handed her a box. Inside was her mum’s wedding chain which she wanted Laila to wear today. They cried, hugging one another before her mum put the chain on her smiling happily, overjoyed with the fact her daughter was getting married. After everyone was ready they left for the venue, Laila and her mum rode in a horse carriage to the wedding, it was fairytale like.

The car stopped, Henry looked outside the window smiling at how beautiful and grand the venue looked. Finally, he was going to get married to the girl of his dreams. Stepping out of the car, he looked ahead to the place, it was stunning. He remembered Laila dragging him to the 15th venue they had seen while on the hunt to find the perfect place when they stumbled upon this one,  they both fell in love with it in an instant. Henry put on his sunglasses as the sun shone brightly into his eyes, his best man took a picture of him outside the venue. Walking with his best man they passed a large water fountain, drums getting louder as they walked into the hotel where the wedding was taking place.

People had already arrived, having food, drinks and taking their seats. The guests talked amongst each other as music played in the background. Walking past the reception, dining area Henry was escorted out to the huge garden which was transformed for the wedding. It looked beautiful, gold and red chairs around, tables scattered with roses, and a band playing classical music. Henry smiled seeing the altar. It was a hand carved wooden altar dressed in white and red flowers. Inside was two golden chairs for the couple to sit and four other chairs for both sets of parents.

Smiling he took the scenery in, a tear ran down his face not believing in one hour he was getting married to Laila. Henry's parents walked towards him, giving him a huge hug, taking some pictures with him before giving him some last minute parental advice. Laila was still sitting in the horse carriage taking the long route to the venue, her mum talking to her, telling Laila how proud she is of her. They both had tears in their eyes as they hugged one another.

Laila finally arrived at the venue, everyone had now taken their seats. Henry was sitting at the altar waiting for the music to start and for Laila to walk down. Kuch to hai tujhse raabta ( There is some connection with you) started to play on the loudspeakers, signaling everyone to stand up. Henry was hidden by a long white cloth, as Laila walked through with her uncles next to her. Reaching the altar she stood in front of Henry who was still hidden and waited until the cloth was taken away. The cloth was removed and beaming smiles spread across both their faces. He couldn’t help but grin, mouthing ‘you look gorgeous,’ at her making Laila blush and everyone giggle seeing her face get red.

Flower garlands were exchanged between Laila and Henry before they sat in their seats waiting for the priest to carry on with the ceremony. Finally, it was time to go round the fire seven times. Henry’s dupatta and Laila’s were tied together as they walked around seven times as their family and few friends threw flower petals at them every round. The priest said some last words, making a little joke about keeping each other happy making everyone laugh including the bride and groom.

Now it was time for Laila and Henry to take blessings from both sets of parents. They went to Laila’s parents who grabbed them into a big hug crying at how beautiful they are together. Henry touched her parent’s feet for blessings letting them know he will be there for her no matter what. Then they slowly walked to Henry’s parents who hugged them Laila touching their feet for blessings.

Henry linked his hand with hers, holding onto her tightly as they walked to another part of the garden to take some wedding photos. The professional photographer followed them to the spot which was overlooking the pool and rest of Udaipur. They took a bunch of photos, each one Henry pecked her lips, over the moon he married his soul mate.

In the last photo, Henry wrapped his arms around Laila, his body on hers as they stared into one another’s eyes. Smiles appeared on there faces, eyes sparkling and Laila tiptoed to finally reach his lips and kiss them. Photos were done, now the couple had 30 minutes to breathe and be with one another.

“Hi Mrs Cavill,” Henry said, staring into his wife’s eyes with pure joy.

“Hello Mr Cavill,” Laila beamed giggling into Henry’s lips. It was nice the couple got away for a short time just to be with one another before going back to eat.

“Babe I got a surprise, here open the envelope,” he said, handing her a red envelope waiting to see her reaction when she finds out where they are going on a honeymoon.

“Is this where we are going,” Laila’s voice broke, eyes welling up as she slowly teared up the envelope. Inside were two-holiday tickets to Thailand, it was listed as one of Laila favourite destinations to visit. For three weeks they will be visiting Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Puckett, Henry planning every detail of the holiday.

He smiled, moving closer to his wife and wiped a few tears that trickled down her face. Leaning down Henry kissed her lips ever so softly, before letting it get heated, tongues exploring each other’s mouths.  They rested heads against one another, overjoyed with happiness after years of being together Laila and Henry were finally married.

“Purple ranger, Henry where you been, people are waiting for you,” Laila’s best friend shouted, running up to where the couple were standing. She embraced them into a huge hug, Henry laughing at the fact his wife was called purple ranger since a little girl as she loved power rangers and the colour purple.

“We’re coming, just give us a few minutes,” Laila giggled holding onto her husband’s hand wanting to be alone with him a tad bit longer. She knew after the reception tonight they would be flying to Thailand for their honeymoon, but as a photographer she wanted to capture pictures of herself and Henry at this beautiful spot one last time before going inside to eat.

Laila waited until her best friend was out of sight before she kissed her husband roughly. They took some selfies together looking stunning in there Indian outfits. Henry kissed her again before looking down at her henna stained hands searching for his name among the intricate designs. He kissed her hands slowly exploring each finger, thumb, and palm to find where his name was. Laila giggled, watching him search sedulously. It took him awhile but he spotted it on the side of her first finger, his name, inside of a heart.

“I love your mehndi,” Henry spoke softly kissing her fingers, always fascinated with the intricate designs, he remembered his mother and sister having mehndi on their hands for a family wedding. “Wish you could keep it on all the time,” he said making Laila laugh

“Maybe I’ll need to keep an in house mehndi artist at home to forever do my hands,” she teased giggling at him biting down on her lip. Laila adored him for embracing her Indian culture, ready to have this giant Indian wedding and wear full Indian clothing. She embraced his English culture too by visiting his family for Easter and eating authentic British food from his mum.

“Can be arranged,” Henry chuckled leaning in to kiss her. Grabbing her hand in his they walked back inside to eat after hearing her stomach grumble the past few minutes. Henry and Laila walked inside the venue to the huge banquet hall where everyone was eating, talking and dancing to music from the live band.

They talked and hugged a few people on their way to the table every so often, one of them being teased and told an old story about their childhood making their faces turn red with embarrassment. Lunch was finally over, speeches had been said and a few group photos were taken before the couple finally walked out of the venue to the car waiting to take them to the place they were staying. Laila grabbed his face as soon as they left the venue and were long gone from family and friends. She kissed him hard, biting down on his bottom lip enjoying his stubble graze against her skin.

“We have hours before we have to get ready, let’s test the showers,” Laila giggled into his lips as she spoke, making Henry wink at her telling the driver to speed up so he wouldn’t have a boner forming.

[underkita-archive]

cotton

miya atsumu | w.c 1.3k

a/n: hesitant to call this x reader as well so i won’t </3 but this is the companion piece to polyester and it’s more of just atsumu’s perspective! it felt necessary ffksjdfh and i listened to a lot of feelings are fatal by mxmtoon while writing this <//3 sorry </3

set post time-skip

warnings: unrequited feelings/love, miki trying to use past tense, again, angst

Miya Atsumu fell in love in his first year of high school on Valentine’s Day. 

His brother would argue that it had happened long before that, but what does he really know? 

He fell in love the second your hands brushed against his with a shy smile as you placed homemade chocolates on his desk before running out of the classroom to chase after your friends.

They shouldn’t have been special, the entire team received the exact same treats from you, although Kita’s box had a few more pieces, which you argued was due to him being the most helpful before and after practice. But that was neither here nor there, because Miya Atsumu was head over heels, pitifully, in love. 

And he wouldn’t shut up about it.

Night after night he lamented to Osamu about their pretty little manager with her kind smile and strong presence. How she was the smartest girl he’d ever met, the way she didn’t flinch when he was too loud and occasionally laughed at his lame jokes. The only thing that he had kept to himself was the way there was a fire in your eyes that made his heart pound, that every second where your gaze would hold his only sent him further towards the edge. 

“Then tell her, and more importantly shut up.” Osamu had hissed in the darkness of their room. 

It was easy for Osamu to say. He didn’t know what Atsumu did, he didn’t see what Atsumu saw. And for someone who was always a little too consumed by his sport, when it came to you, it was the first time he could clearly see outside of it. 

The way you looked at Kita Shinsuke held no secrets, for the way you looked at Kita Shinsuke was surely the way he looked at you. 

It had been a bitter realization that had left him pouting and glaring at his teammate in that special petulant way that he had perfected with Osamu. It hadn’t made an inkling of sense. Kita wasn’t the best on the court, he wasn’t even a starter nor did he ever really play in games.

The adoring look in your eyes spoke volumes, it made Atsumu’s head spin with envy and confusion and he wanted to hate Kita more than anything. 

But how could he? As time went on he couldn’t help but feel the pain in your heart was his own. There was something profoundly sad in the way you held yourself when Kita was around, stricken so deeply with something far too intense for a high schooler to truly grasp. 

Despite the pang in his own chest, he had found himself supporting you in your feelings, hoping you would find the courage to confess, hoping that you would gain the happiness you had deserved. Even if it wasn’t with him.

He held onto his feelings tightly, careful not to let any lingering touches or stern commands throughout the years mean anything more than the concerns of a caring team manager.

If he let himself be selfish he found himself consumed, tormented by the possibilities of if you could ever look at him the way you looked at Kita. 

After Kita graduated he had fooled himself into thinking he had a chance, strolling up to you at the end of practice with his chest puffed and the title of captain tacked onto his name instead. The distant look in your eyes had stopped him dead in his tracks, your eyes had moved over the players searching for someone who wouldn’t step foot in that gym again, not like before.

He resigned himself after that, officially dashing away any thought of a confession or returned sentiment. Watched in silence as your final year together ticked by a little too fast, keeping his second button tucked in his jacket pocket as you parted ways.

-

The text detailing an invitation to an engagement celebration doesn’t come as a surprise to Atsumu. He had already heard from Osamu, who heard from Suna, from Gin, from Aran that Kita has been planning on proposing to his girlfriend. 

His thoughts immediately drift to you. Since graduation there had been sparse communication, consistent birthday and happy holiday wishes, along with the occasional emojis thrown back and forth and the one time you had found a picture of him sleeping with Suna and Osamu scribbling furiously on his face. 

He’s gotten over you, he swears it. And he’s sure you’re over Kita at this point, preparing himself to see you stroll in with someone of your own. So he gets ready for the night, texts Osamu at least three maybe twenty times to hurry up. 

He walks in with his brother in tow, head held high and his people winning —shit-eating according to Osamu—grin on his face. The second he sees you it hits him like one of Kageyama’s serves to the face. Three years later you look just different enough to show growth, just enough to be a little wiser, a little bolder but not enough to hide that what you feel for Kita really hasn’t changed.

It makes him feel nostalgic, bitter, yet nostalgic.  

Throughout the night his eyes keep sliding back over you, watching as you smile so easily without a hint of joy, how you laugh and joke and avert your eyes from the ring sparkling on the fourth finger of the woman cuddled up next to Kita. He sees it all and says nothing as he downs another beer. 

It’s by the time there’s practically a rain cloud hanging over your head and a look of utter defeat in your eyes that he finally takes pity on you. Opening his mouth to spew whatever comes to mind first and grabbing at your wrist, hauling you out of your seat. 

When you protest he barely makes note of it, keeping his eye on the door of the restaurant as he pulls you along. You shaking out of his hold was something he was prepared for, about to snatch your wrist once more when the determined look in your eyes stops him in his tracks. 

“Congratulations Kita-san. I wish you both... I wish you both unending happiness.”

It’s such a genuine statement, it hurts him to hear it. He can barely fathom the pain that uttering it brings you as you twist around on your heel and stalk past him. 

He knows there’s no point in calling after you or in telling you to slow down when he’ll easily catch up in seconds. You don’t jump when his hand lands on your shoulder, simply stopping the second he makes contact. He braces himself for the fallout, for you to tell him to shove off and disappear.

“It hurts.”

And he holds back a wry chuckle as you fall apart before him. Because yeah, it does.

There’s a part of him that feels vindicated as you touch your forehead to his chest, sobs wracking through your body as he shifts his hand to press between your shoulder blades. He should feel guilty, he should feel pity maybe, but the cruel part of him feels like he’s won. 

Won against you, won against Kita. 

The feeling fades quick, because he’s lost more than he’s ever gained in the past six years.

It’s not the right time or the right place, but Miya Atsumu was never patient, in fact it had always amazed him that he was able to hold back for so long.

“Could you… consider me?”

His voice comes out softer than he intended, his words far more unsure. He watches with his heart in his throat as a wave of emotions shifts through your expression.

There’s a few more words passed back and forth, and he knows he sounds desperate, only reminded of just how wrong the timing is. But he can see it, that slight shift, a lifting of a veil, a door cracking open and it gives him hope. 

For once in his life when it comes to you, he lets himself hope.

[hanibalistic]

#67051C | YANG JEONGIN.

genre | fluff, one-sided love au, best friends ay

word count | 890

warning | none

tag | @fluffyskzclub​​

note | this is supposed to be a long one-shot but i have fallen off writing for a bit so here is a short blurb! also, this is for @stayhavens​​ stay together event

surprise, surprise, what a surprise.

a pleasant one, though.

just one day before valentine's day, which conveniently landed on a sunday and giving everyone ample time to prepare everything they needed—teddy bears, rose bouquets, gold glitters, and chocolate boxes—before school starts on monday, was the day you dragged jeongin to your house to help you make some chocolate for hyunjin.

well, help as you like you call it, but jeongin thought of it more like him doing everything in the kitchen while you stood to the side and rambled on and on about your plan to only give your long-time dancer crush the chocolate but not confessing, never ever confessing.

it was a different kind of pain during valentine's week.

jeongin has always heard about you falling in love with other people. most of them have been fleeting ones until hyunjin appeared, and then it was just that senior boy every single year since freshman times.

you talked about hyunjin all the time. it was infuriating at first—it was still annoying now, but jeongin has learned to tone down his one-sided jealousy after years of putting his affection in the shadows and watching you bloom for another boy. but you really have been all about hyunjin these three years as if no other boy has ever existed on earth.

and jeongin? oh, the poor boy.

it has only ever been you for him. since sandbox years, since pigtails pulling, since the emo phase, and this terrible junior year. it was the result of being next-apartment neighbors, middle school classmates, and high school childhood best friends.

he never said anything. he wanted to; he needed to place his affection somewhere, in more than a friendly manner. but every time he tried to reach out to you, every time he reached out for your heart, your gates were closed for somebody else. he had no space nor time to venture into you, and he did not know what to do but stay loyally and wait.

he just waits. forever. jeongin just waits for you to see him.

"what is that?" he asked in a grumble as he eyed your mischievous smile carefully.

you were barely looking at him. the glint in your eyes was playful yet sincere, in the way that was just like you whom he has known for years, and you smiled at him faintly as you held up a bag of chocolate and held it toward him.

"happy valentine's day," you said.

jeongin raised his brows.

surprise, surprise. you have never given him chocolate before.

"hey, don't look at me like that." you scoffed at his shocked and somehow dissatisfied expression. you waved the chocolate in front of his face. "i didn't get to give hyunjin his chocolate today, but at least i got you to make me feel less pathetic today."

jeongin almost rolled his eyes. he would have, though, if he hadn't known how disappointed you were for not having mustered enough courage to walk through the sea of pursuing girls and hand the gorgeous boy your homemade chocolate.

call him weird, but for someone who wanted desperately for your plan to fail, his heart sure broke when you still put on a smile after turning around and telling him you still have next year even when you don't.

oh! but if you think you have just given him the chocolate because you were not able to hand it to hyunjin, then you are wrong! he has got some standards at least! taking another man's valentine chocolate was truly the lowest of the low!

"i'm sorry, but i didn't sign up to be your thrift-store-hyunjin," he commented.

you lowered your hand and snorted. there was a look of disbelief on your face, but thankfully to jeongin, it was the hilarious kind instead of the upsetting kind.

"what are you talking about, you dumbass," you said, shoving the bag to his chest and knocking on his bones. "i made these especially for you. these were never meant for hyunjin."

he took the bag out of your hand.

his finger brushed past your skin for a brief moment.

"i didn't see you make these," he muttered.

"i made them after you left," you said triumphantly as you crossed your arms, acting like making chocolate was some big achievement when you secretly failed so many times. "can't have you there if i am making some for you."

"oh..."

"happy valentine's day, jeong," you smiled, your hand already at the doorknob, "see you tomorrow. or later, if i need your help again."

you left him in the hallway. the bag in his hand rustled as he shifted it. the heart-shaped—barely heart-shaped chocolate fell against each other. he wondered what kind of atrocity they would taste like, but he knew he would eat them nonetheless even if they kill his stomach.

this was not your first gift for him, but something about the meaning behind a friendly valentine stung his heart a bit. made him bitter yet soft; the honey-comb ending in a real tragedy.

he wanted to reach out to you again, but simultaneously he was being stopped by the extra bag of heart-shaped chocolate in your school bag, the one that was left unsent.

that was the real deal. this one, this was just for friends.

[magicman111]

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter One

Marcy watched the sun slowly set on Newtopia as she’d done many an evening before. The sharp squawks of the gulls rang through the orange sky. She looked quite the forlorn figure standing by the hotel entrance, the gentle evening breeze that ruffled her cloak underscoring her solitude.

Her eyes remained fixated in the same direction her friend had taken off, maybe in some fleeting fool’s hope she’d change her mind and come sprinting back right into her arms.

Not a chance, Marbles.

Anne was long gone by now. Hopefully, she’d caught up with the Plantars’ fwagon before they reached the city gate. Judging by how quickly she booked it, the odds were in her favor. That girl didn’t make varsity back home for nothing.

Marcy only hoped those sweet, simple frogs knew just how lucky they were to have someone like Anne in their lives.

Sighing, her head lowered, she licked her wounds slowly.

Really? That easy, huh?  

Could Anne have made it any more obvious that she wanted to get out of there faster than she did? After they’d been apart for so long, and for a family of farmer frogs whom she’d known for what? Months?

No, don’t do that, she pulled herself up. It wasn’t right for her to be mad at the Plantars. This wasn’t their fault. Sprig and Polly were a barrel of fun at the slumber party, providing you disregarded their life-threatening encounter with the jelly-fish ghosts. Hop Pop, meanwhile, reminded her so much of her own grandpa it was uncanny. They were sweet, decent folk who’d taken Anne in and kept her safe all this time. It was just...

Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. How else was she supposed to feel but a little rejected?

However, was she really allowed to complain when holding her tongue was so normalised for her by this point? Marcy was a people pleaser, she understood that much about herself. Anytime Anne and Sasha got into an argument, she was there to keep the peace and everyone happy. So if Anna-Banana wanted to spend more time with her bumpkin frog family than her literal best friend since preschool, who was she to say no?

The story with her folks wasn’t all that different either. When they pressured her to keep up her studies, up to and including PSAT prep despite it being years away, she did as she was told like a good girl to make them proud, and they were. She hoped they were.

Goodness knows what they must be thinking right now—

Nope nope nope! Don’t go there, don’t go there.

She’d already lost too much sleep at night ruminating over the unspeakable pain she’d most surely put them through, it was the last thing she needed right now. She tried to do the logical thing and focus on the positives instead. That usually worked.

Anne wouldn’t be away for too long. They’d be together again as soon as Hop Pop’s contacts returned the Box to Wartwood and then it was off to the first of the three temples to get those gems recharged. Once that side quest was done and dusted, it was a simple matter of finding Sasha and making their way home.

Looking down, she caught herself wringing her hands.

Home.

That sure was the plan.

I mean... what else are we supposed to do?

“Always sad to see someone go, isn’t it?”

Marcy quickly wiped her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to greet the towering form of King Andrias.

Almost instantly, her mood perked up a notch. He was the one person whom she trusted, more than anyone else in all of Amphibia. Ever since she first landed outside the city walls, he took her under his wings and ensured her smooth transition into this brave new world.

Andrias was without doubt one of the kindest and wisest people Marcy could have ever hoped to meet. He was a true listener, and there were very few you could say that about, her parents included. How often had he been there to lend both an understanding ear and sage advice over games of flipwart?

Games she won more often than not, she wasn’t humble enough not to brag.

It was also he who sent Marcy on the daring missions that would eventually make her the hero of Newtopian society she was today. All because he recognised the value of her talents beyond passing an exam or helping her friends with their homework. No other 13-year-old had their own solid gold statue adorning a city bridge.

She owed this king a debt she couldn’t possibly repay, but one he was far too altruistic in nature to demand.

Then, why did he look so... solemn?

“Come along, Marcy. We need to talk.”

Maybe it was his serious tone of voice or those specific choice of words, but they made the hair on the back of Marcy’s neck stand on end. In an almost pavlovian manner, she corrected her posture and she held her chin erect.

Shoving whatever remaining conflicted thoughts aside, she silently followed Andrias back to the castle like a pilot fish tailing its great white. She was so puny next to this tremendous salamander, he could crush her with a single blow of his fist if he so chose. Not that a gentle, goofy giant like Andrias would even dream of doing such a thing.

So when he was dead serious, Marcy knew better to zip it, listen, and do as instructed.

Their quiet journey took them all the way back to the castle and into the royal throne room, a place she was all too familiar with by now. To enter this hallowed hall was a privilege bestowed only to a select few. For Marcy, it was where she had her morning debriefs over bugachinos.

Instead of going straight up to the throne for their pow wow as she anticipated, Andrias guided her down a small passageway to their left.

When they made their way up to the statue of what Marcy recognised as one of his ancestors, one of the great rulers of Amphibia, they came to a stop. Andrias then gazed down at her with the most serious look she’d seen him give anyone.

“Marcy, before we go any further,” he spoke sternly, “I need to be absolutely crystal clear about something. Okay?”

“Y-Yes, Andrias?” Marcy asked, shivering a little. She did not like being pulled out of her comfort zone, not like this.

“You’re about to enter the most secret place in all of Newtopia,” he continued, now down on one knee and his hand hovering over her shoulder, as close as they could be to eye level. “What I’m going to show you... I need you to swear you won’t share with another living soul. Not to Anne, not to Lady Olivia, no one. Do you understand? I can’t emphasise this enough, Marcy.”

“Of course,” she answered earnestly, trying to sound more confident. “You know you can always trust me, Andrias.”

A ghost of that warm, fatherly smile returned to his big blue countenance.

“Trust is a hard thing to come by, kid, and you’ve gone above and beyond to earn mine. It’s just that I’m not exaggerating here when I say this is a big one.”

Marcy simply placed one hand over his huge index, the other over her heart.

She smiled back at him sweetly, genuinely, “I promise.”

“Very well.”

Nodding in approval, Adrias rose. He reached out, pushing a luminous coral torch upwards.

It didn’t take an encyclopedic knowledge of ‘Creatures & Caverns’ for Marcy to predict that the statue was going to shift to the left next, revealing the spiralling staircase leading to Frog knows where. She probably should’ve been more surprised, but come on, it wasn’t exactly the first secret passage she’d come across in this castle lately. 

“Follow me,” was all Andrias said, before he pulled off the same coral torch, then proceeded down the stairs without another word. Marcy followed obediently, unable to ignore the unnerving chill that was now travelling up her spine.

Was it... always this cold around here?

Something about all this just felt so unsettling compared to last time. She couldn’t really explain why; she knew she was safe with Andrias and that he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally put her in harm’s way. It was a gut feeling and that sort of thing bugged a rational person like her to no end.

She tried to take her mind off it by hazarding her best guess as to precisely what he was going to show her. Either she did that or started getting all worked up dwelling on Anne again, which she’d rather not at the moment.

Another secret library, perhaps? Probably not, though she wouldn’t be at all disappointed if it was. Maybe there were forbidden texts about the dark arts hidden away down there. Magic users were incredibly rare in Amphibia these days—Marcy had already searched far and wide—so might this be her chance?

Oh, how the very idea of being able to cast actual magic excited her. Being Chief Ranger of the Knight Guard was a great honor and nothing to sneeze at, but to be a powerful sorceress, one who could communicate with spirits, raise the dead, shuffle the orifices on her enemy’s faces—

Okay, rein those snails in, Mar-Mar.

Her musings were interrupted by a strange noise emanating from below. At first she figured it was just her imagination, but the further they continued their descent, the clearer it became.

It sounded an awful lot like beeping. Yes, that was it. A progressively growing cacophony of bleeps, bloops and chirps, the kind she’d expect to hear from a high-tech supercomputer. Something absolutely alien in a world like Amphibia, she and her friends excluded.

Before Marcy could ask Andrias if he heard it too, she was distracted by the emergence of an orange glow chasing away the darkness below. It was a warm, almost heavenly light that conjured the mental image of a crackling fireplace on Christmas morning, protecting you from the snowstorm outside.

The chill in her spine had by now spread to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. Her throat tightened up. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead.

What the... Marcy could not say a word, only think.

There was something down there. Something greater than any library, however inconceivable that sounded. Whether it was good or bad was irrelevant to her at that moment.

It called her.

The duo finally reached the foot of the staircase and entered the sacred sanctum.

Marcy’s jaw dropped.

“Woah.”

There were no shelves of books. No ancient Amphibian artifacts. There weren’t even any walls that she could make out from where she stood. Just an apparently endless sea of darkness encompassing a large round platform from which both the enticing glow and the lowkey din of beeps originated.

Marcy resumed taking Andrias’ lead as they stepped out onto the platform, the clink-clank of their boots confirming her assumption it was made of metal. The whole thing appeared more at home on an alien spaceship than in the dungeons of a castle.

Upon arriving at its centre, Andrias knelt down on both knees and, much to Marcy’s curiosity, removed his crown and set it down on the floor. She took the hint by following suit.

Any lingering fears melted away the more she basked herself in the radiance. It was as if the beams were steadily pouring into her body, clearing up her headspace, reducing any tension in her body. She recalled a favored memory from when she was five-years-old, when she and Anne spent a whole summer afternoon by the beach. How the tides would come in and out without fail, washing away the ruins of their sandcastles, the seaweed, one of Anne’s sandles and the teeny tiny baby seahorse they rescued.

Like a nice blank canvas.

Was this a private place of worship? Not according to her expansive studies of Amphibian anthropology. Or maybe it was a place for Andrias to meditate away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle. Seemed a skosh excessive if that was the case.

“Truly captivating, I know.”

Andrais’ baritone brought Marcy back down to earth. She straightened up and tried to refocus herself. They were down here for an important reason, at least she believed they were.

“One can spend hours down here,” Andrias boomed ominously. “Adrift in their own thoughts and... dreams.” The light cast his face in a rather unnerving shadow as he stared ahead into the void. “But I’m sure you know I haven’t brought you here to show off my retreat from the world.” He took a long, deep breath, like he was mentally steeling himself for what he said next, “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Marcy.”

He produced from his sleeve what appeared at first glance to be two giant pieces of parchment and unfolded them neatly on the metal surface. A closer inspection told Marcy they were in fact pages torn from an exceptionally large book. Judging not only by the size, but the font and format as well, she easily pieced together its origin.

“Are these...?”

“From the book we “found” in the wing?” Andrias chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes. Still kinda surprised you didn’t pick up there were pages missing, but that's not important right now. Please, read.”

The platform provided ideal reading light. Marcy’s ability to read at a 12th Grade level meant she cruised through the text and finished within minutes.

She read it once, then twice. A third and fourth time just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Her bottom began to tremble.

No... Nononono, this... this can’t be right. I-It’s impossible! How in the world can it...?!

No amount of curative rays could unfreeze the blood in her veins. The metaphorical pistons in her brain were firing on full cylinders in a vain attempt to digest this earth-shattering information. For a split second, she thought she was going to pass out.

Desperate, she turned to the stone-faced Andrias to plead for some kind of answer, but she found no words with which to speak. All the personal growth and development that made her Newtopia’s champion had been stripped of her and she was reduced to nothing more than a helpless lost toddler.

A comforting set of giant digits placed themselves under her chin, the same way a father would do for his daughter.

“All this time, I’ve been testing you,” Andrias told her, his voice full of pride. “The games of flipwart, the missions, the “secret library”, even the barbari-ant colony I had lured to the city. I was watching you, studying your every action. With each challenge I issued, you excelled my expectations. You’re an exceptionally talented human being, Marcy, truly worthy of the name ‘Wu’.”

Even if these words were meant to serve as comfort or encouragement, they had only the opposite effect for Marcy. Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes.

She mustered only a pitiful whimper, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he promised, “you will soon enough. He’s so excited to meet you.”

“... He?”

Lifting his mighty hand in the air, he thrusted it into the nothingness facing them. Marcy instinctively followed its direction.

“Marcy Wu,” Andrias’ thundering voice resonated throughout the sanctuary, “allow me to introduce you... to my master.”

No sooner had he finished, the whole world started to tremble at Marcy’s knees, throwing her off her balance. A rumbling, mechanical ROAR struck her ears so loud she had to cover them to protect the drums from rupture. Yet despite this sensory assault, she somehow forced her eyes to stay wide open. She needed to face whatever was coming.

Marcy gazed into the abyss.

And the abyss gazed back with all thirteen of its eyes.

Terror. Pure mounting terror overwhelmed every cell of her being. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. If her mouth stretched any wider, her jaw risked snapping clean off its hinges.

Everything around her faded into black. Andrias, the platform and its glow, the beeping, all vanished into the ether. All now that existed were herself and those colossal demonic eyes plucked from the deepest recesses of her nightmares, their leer burrowing into her very soul.

Marcy wanted to scream until she coughed up her lungs. Moreso, she just wanted to wake up. This was all a dream, it had to be. A lucid dream that had gone on for far too long. She and her friends weren’t in another dimension inhabited by talking frogs, such a notion was a scientific absurdity. She sure as heck wasn’t a ranger in some anthropomorphic newt army.

Any moment now, her wizard kitty alarm would ring and she’d wake up in her soft, cozy bed. Dad would have left for work by now, planting a goodbye kiss on her sleeping forehead as he did every morning since she was little. Mom would be already making her her favorite congee rice and youtiao for breakfast. Then she would begin the process of packing up her room for the big move to Oregon like a good girl.

Yes, she would even happily do that. Anything to bring an end to this ordeal!

Shhhh

Her train of thought screeched to a sudden halt.

Marcy

It’s gonna be okay

And just like that, as if those were the five magic words required, everything was fine again. No more panic, no more existential terror. Her heart rate lowered to a steady, non-life threatening level.

The tide had risen up and washed Marcy’s mind clean.

Like a nice blank canvas.

What quickly followed was an epiphany of sorts.

There was nothing for her to fear. Once she accepted that fact, the warm sensation from before returned greater than ever, engulfing her in what could only be described as a spiritual hug. She could feel the pair of hands, tender as her own mother’s, caressing her face and flicking away her tears. They even ruffled her raven hair in the same playful manner.

Come to me, daughter of Wu

Let me get a good look at you

Marcy obeyed. Getting down on all fours, she crawled across the nonexistent ground—the laws of physics evidently had no place here—until her face and the eyes’ chief pupil were within inches of each other.

Fresh tears, now ones of ecstasy, trickled down her cheeks and evaporated in the pulsating heat.

“You’re beautiful.”

I know

We’ve gotta lot to talk about, Marcy

And I have a feeling...

You and I are gonna become the best of friends