#cinnamon wrote the fade one

[scftm1ttens]

valorant incorrect quotes; but it’s from me and @cinnamoncatto’s discord chat

#cinnamon wrote the fade one #valorant #fade valorant #deadlock valorant #valorant incorrect quotes #evie’s valorant posts

[the-californicationist]

he doesn’t disappoint

Wrote this fic as I was inspired by the challenge from @sky-is-the-limit that asked for Price getting fed up with hearing his hot neighbor have really terrible sex.

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

MDNI/18+

AO3 Version here

Four long stories above the people and the pigeons, she sat, legs on the railing of her amazingly small balcony, reading and writing. Always dressed in that huge jumper with the fraying collar, it swallowed her, covering her little spandex shorts that barely managed to keep her thick arse from slipping out of them, and she had her hair in the braid again. It was his favorite. He liked the ponytails, too, but the braid did something to him. When she plaited her hair and let that heavy rope hang limply over her shoulder, she became Repunzel, and he was Gallahad - or whatever muppet was meant to be at the bottom of her tower.

Captain Price knew that, the moment his fingers flipped the lock on his window, he’d disturb her peace. She’d startle, like a doe, and turn to smile at him. He lived for that turn. Every few nights, he’d catch her out here again, and he could make her turn to him. Make her smile at him. Make her laugh and talk with him, until she went to bed. But, that was the problem. Lately, her bed was filled with the one thing that made Price’s body fill with frustrated rage: The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend was such a typical Yank, it made Price’s eyes roll back in his head. From the boat shoes to the bad fade haircut, the lad looked like an Abercrombie advert had escaped from one of those oversized shopping bags and landed in her apartment. He was small, first of all, despite the gym-made muscles. And he was as smooth as an otter, fully hairless. Price shuddered back to the memory of watching him try to put up the fire escape ladder shirtless, struggling to lift it with those tiny hands of his, making a disgusted face at the dirt on his palms afterward, wiping it on her blanket without her seeing him. Disgusting little gremlin.

She kept giving this wanker chance after chance to figure it out in the bedroom, and Price had heard just about enough of it, and his gut twisted in his belly knowing he’d have to hear it again tonight. He knew The Boyfriend was here because she was doing her work outside. The Boyfriend insisted on playing his Battle Zone videogames on full volume, bothering her, and complaining like a child if she asked him to put on his headphones. Price enjoyed imagining how quickly he’d expire on a real battlefield. That little prick could scream all the obscenities he wanted but he’d be dead in milliseconds against a man like Price.

His darling didn’t know about that, though. She knew he was in the military, but she didn’t know that he was the leader of the deadliest special forces team in the world. He imagined explaining it to her, pictured the fear flooding her face, confusion and shock hanging out of her open mouth. No. He couldn’t tell her about himself. Usually, when they talked together on the balcony, he would smoke long, densely-packed cigars and sip his whisky while she confessed the sins of her day to him. She told him about grad school, about her poetry, maybe showing him a sample or two. It was beautiful. When she was upset, she’d even tap on his window to see if he was home, sometimes tearful, asking for advice on how to handle something The Boyfriend had done. On really bad nights, she’d lean in and hug him, crying on his enormous shoulder, telling him what a good friend he was for listening to her. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and her warmth made his cock swell with furious need.

As the night dragged on, The Boyfriend would eventually remember her and call her inside. He’d croon all sorts of things to her. His little whining “come on, baby” and pathetic “I just really need you to” quips were the opening lines to the worst song on Earth. He’d then spend the next five to ten minutes whimpering away on top of her, the headboard slamming into Price’s wall without rhythm. If the gorgeous woman suffering beneath him ever had the audacity to actually be enjoying his attempt, he’d shush her, shaming her for making noises, telling her “the neighbors don’t need to hear that shit.” Meanwhile, The Neighbor would be plotting his slow, painful death.

The banging started, and Price wanted to burst through the wall and stop this trainwreck from happening to her again. Eventually, a short time after it had begun, the banging stopped. Then, an even shorter time after that, the jingle of keys and the “I have an early day tomorrow” and “I have to go” were the outro to The Boyfriend’s opus.

Enough was enough. Before he even knew what he was doing, Price had his hand, raised in a fist, knocking on her apartment door. 23B. Shadow in the peephole. The click and clatter of a lock chain.

“Oh! John, it’s you. Is everything okay?” Her voice was low and smooth. Her cheeks were flushed. She was standing in her doorway, wearing those shorts, that jumper, still full of her need.

“No,” was all he could manage as he looked at her, his blue eyes blown, mad with desire.

“Oh, okay. Come in, I’ll make us some of that delicious tea you bought me. What are you doing here?”

Price followed her inside, silently relocking the portal, stalking her into the tiny kitchen, a mirror to his own. He came up behind her as she was looking in her cupboard for their mugs. When he put his hands on her hips, she froze, startled, eyeing him over her shoulder. His voice was just above a whisper, gravelly and accented, and he said,

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

She was on her tiptoes, reaching for the cups, but as she registered what he said, she slowly lowered herself back down to the tile of her floor, turning to face her neighbor with a look of shock on her face.

“What?”

Price played with the end of her braid, turning the end of it over in his hand, wrapping it up along his knuckles like a rope. He snaked the other hand up underneath her sweatshirt, fingers lingering on her warm belly, searching for the smooth swell of her breast. He told her, snarling,

“If I have to hear him continue to use you like a warm fucking towel, leaving you wanting, I will lose my bloody mind. Call him. Tell him he’s done.”

“You could hear us?” She flushed quickly at that, recalling all of the times she’d been punished for her noises.

“And I always hear you afterwards, after he leaves, making up for his…shortcomings. Bit sad, innit? Needing to take care of yourself when he should be the one looking after you. Time for someone new. Get your phone, love.”

It took her a moment to register what he was suggesting, but she was fed up, too. She smiled at his comment, and she reached for her phone on the countertop.

“Put it on speaker, sweetheart,” he commanded her. She obeyed.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Uh, what do you want?” The Boyfriend answered.

“Hey, Dick,” Price snarled, “We got some bad news, lad.”

“I’m breaking up with you, Richard,” she spoke into the phone very clearly, wrapping her free hand around Price’s huge bicep, not able to cover even half of its circumference, exploring him as he fondled her, one fist still holding her plait cruelly.

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“Why?” She scoffed, “Because every time I’ve come, for as long as we’ve been together, has been when you’re not here.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you, bitch. You’re just a -”

“Tha’s enough, Dick,” Price barked into the phone, “Look, no worries, mate. I’ll take it from here.”

Click. Price hung up her phone and turned it off, tossing it back across the counter. It made a loud, plasticky bang as it fell. He pressed his heavy erection against her body, crushing her hips with his, and moved his hand back under her jumper, plucking at her nipple like a soft petal, pinching it to make it stand at attention, watching her watch him.

“John, you… you never said anything,” she looked up into his eyes, begging him to tell her the truth he’d kept locked away for months.

“This isn’t even the half of it, girl,” he started to kiss her neck, sucking at her skin, his body writhing on top of hers, mimicking actions it would soon employ once he could get her out of her clothes, “I’ve wanted you for so. Fucking. Long.”

She moaned at the way he was kissing her throat with his bearded mouth, licking her with his long tongue. She cradled his furry cheek in her hand, enjoying the feel of its coarse hairs, whispering to him,

“When he leaves, you’re the one I picture. In my head.”

She might as well have lit a bomb. That was all he needed to hear.

He was strong enough to hoist her up onto the counter with one of his arms, wrapping it around her waist and setting her on the edge, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his huge body in between them. He tugged on her braid, using it to expose her smooth throat. She gasped, reaching out to steady herself.

The captain stood over her, looming like a dark beast, warning her in his quiet, steady voice,

“If I ever, and I mean ever, hear that little prick banging your headboard on my wall again, it’ll be his last day above ground. Am I crystal clear, love?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, a little uncertain how serious he was.

“Good girl.”

Price let go of her hair and scooped her off of the counter, carrying her with her legs locked behind him, through the small flat, and crashed to the bed where she’d just been disappointed. He vowed to her, silently, that he would do anything but disappoint.

Clothes started coming off in peeled layers; shirts, bras, pants, underwear - everything was shucked away like the rind of a melon, leaving only the soft, sticky inside, ripe and ready to be devoured. Price made his way down her body, biting and sucking whenever he wanted to do so, leaving a trail of teeth marks behind. Eventually, he could feel the heat of her pussy against his cheek, and it made him shudder.

He had pulled her phone into his pocket, and now he wanted to twist the knife. He called The Boyfriend and sent his own number straight to voicemail, preparing to leave a delicious message.

As he began to eat her juices, sucking them off her folds like the drippings from a popsicle, he started to hear little mewlings, soft and sweet, but very reserved. He glanced up at the rest of his meal, wondering why she was holding back. Then, he remembered The Boyfriend’s number one rule.

“Look at me,” Price ordered from beneath her thighs.

She hesitated, trying to hide her shame, putting her face in her hands, breathing heavy and ragged.

He reached both hands up to grab her ribs, coming up and out from his position to let her get a better look at him.

“Look at me, love.” It was a softer, lower tone, and she came out of hiding to obey him. He continued to command her, gently, “I want to hear your pleasure, sweetness. The louder you get, the harder I get. I hope the whole bloody city hears you tonight.”

“Are you sure? You like it?” Fuck if he wasn’t about to hunt that man down and execute him, authority or not.

“God, yes, love. Let me make you scream.”

This voicemail was going to be incredible.

He returned to his duty post between her legs, excited to start his work anew. This time, as his tongue worked her open, fucking liquidly in and out of her pink hole, swirling up around her clit, and exploring every hidden gem between them, he listened to her keening. It was soft at first, but then, when he began to stretch her, pushing down with his two, rough fingers, thrusting them slowly in and out, she started to come. Her cries were incredible. She was screaming for him to fuck her, to take her, to do anything to her, and he loved it.

Crawling back over her, Price used his heavy cockhead to paint drooling precome all over her slick slit, soaking himself so he could more easily fit himself into her core. He didn’t want to hurt her, and other lovers had trained him to know that his was big enough to be a weapon.

“That’s my good girl. Do you feel good, you sweet little thing? You’re a fucking dream. Tell me that you’re ready for this cock in you. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me, love.”

She was shaking from her orgasm, looking at him, bewildered, and she rushed the words out of her mouth like fire,

“I need it, please. John, I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, please, John. Put your cock in me,” and, like magic, Price obliged. Just as good at taking orders as he was at giving them.

Feeding his length inside of her wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that she was coming while he tried to do it. Price had a hand steadily working her clit, wetly pressing it where she needed it, and she was clenching against him so tightly, like a wet, molten fist, that it nearly pushed him out of her. He grabbed her body, looping his enormous arm behind her back, and shoved her down, locking her against his hips, deliciously impaled.

Her face was twisted into the most beautiful kind of agony, and as she came down from her high, he began to move in her. After she bloomed around his cock, opening like a flower, he was able to fuck into her even deeper, groaning with each of his thrusts. She gasped,

“Oh, God. John, you’re so good. You’re not done yet?”

He laughed, out loud and brazenly, holding her tighter,

“Oh, lovely girl, no. No,” he smiled down at his pretty little neighbor, “Those days are gone. I’m going to be inside of you all fucking night.”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #cod #captain price pov

[duskandcobalt]

stargirl

Elain and Azriel are spending a bit of time together when she has a vision, a vision of her nails in the kitchen...

surprise! I wrote this little quickie on a complete whim over the last couple of days because I think Elain deserves to have a sexy little vision that isn't about cassian dying

1.7k words ft implied sex via prophetic visions

Read on AO3

inspired by....

It’s a crisp Autumn morning in Velaris but the River House kitchen is toasty, the fire from the brick oven warming the space. The sun is only just beginning to rise, vibrant colours seeping into the otherwise dark sky outside the large picture window that overlooks the garden.

Most of the house is still asleep but Elain is already hard at work, the sleeves of her pale yellow dress are pushed up to her elbows as she puts her heart and soul into rolling out dough for the cinnamon rolls that she’d woken up extra early to make… all because a certain someone had mentioned in passing that he had a particular penchant for them a few days ago. 

That certain someone in question is the only other person awake. He’s perched on a stool across the counter, nursing a steaming cup of black coffee as he watches her work with eyes that are still bleary with sleep. His dark hair is messy - strands going in every direction. He’s in a white t-shirt, a few tiny holes around the neckline indicate that perhaps it’s his preferred sleep shirt. A pair of heather grey sleep pants are slung entirely too low on his waist. 

Not that Elain had noticed. 

He’d come downstairs half an hour after she’d started puttering around the kitchen, quietly mumbling a ‘good morning’ before he made them both coffees and began his “interrogations” as Elain had lovingly come to call this ruse of his. A routine he’d developed where he’d find an excuse to be wherever she was and ask questions about whatever task she was working on that particular day.  

She’d held back a smile when he’d asked her what her preferred type of flour was this morning. Knew that this was his way of finding reasons to talk to her, to spend time with her - just the two of them and these quiet moments before anyone else had woken up or long after everyone had gone to bed.

Elain didn’t mind. Quite the opposite actually, she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to the warmth that built in her chest and low in her stomach whenever he approached her. She always answered his questions, asked him a few of her own just to keep him around longer. 

Afterwards, when time caught up with them and they were forced to go about their days or nights separately, she’d think of his small smiles, the way he blushed each time she looked at him a little too long. And sometimes, more often than she’d ever admit, she allowed herself to think of the smattering of dark hair under his belly button that travelled down under the waistband of his pants, visible only when his shirt would rise as he reached for the mugs that she kept unreasonably high in the cupboard for this very reason. 

…

Elain is explaining the merits of grinding her own cinnamon to Azriel when it happens, that familiar haziness clouding her eyesight as everything fades and she’s whisked into some sort of alternate space.

The vision comes in stages, as it always does. 

The sight in front of her is the first to transform.

The dough she’d been rolling out is gone - the counter clear except for the rag that she uses to wipe it down. Azriel isn’t sitting in front of her anymore and the rising sun is nowhere to be seen. A sliver of moonlight and a few flickering candles are the only things illuminating the otherwise dark kitchen. 

Her yellow dress and apron have been replaced by a thin cotton nightgown that’s currently bunched up around her waist, one strap hangs off her shoulder. Her hands are splayed out on the counter, fingertips spread wide as her nails desperately scratch at the surface for leverage. 

She glimpses the golden arms on either side of her body, the dark swirling tattoos. Recognises the pair of obscenely large hands braced on the countertop directly next to her own, notices the distinct scars that cover them.

Before she can wrap her head around what she’s seeing, she begins to feel it. 

She feels the strain on her calves from being raised up on the very tips of her toes. The cold granite of the benchtop is agonising against her peaked nipples as her breasts brush roughly over the surface. She’s conscious of the heavy weight of his strong body over hers, the glide of his bare chest against her arched back - the friction eased by the thin sheen of sweat covering their bodies. 

The last thing she feels before the sound fades in is the delicious burn in between her legs, the blissful stretch of her body around him as he sinks deep into her.

She’s just caught on to exactly what this is when she hears it all - the unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin at a punishing pace, the rumble of his low voice in her ear saying things that are so unbelievably filthy she’d never dream of ever repeating them out loud. She hears her own voice but the rasp in it is unlike she’s ever heard it before as she screams. Actually screams . 

It’s Azriel’s name she’s crying out, over and over. It’s his name that echoes through the kitchen, punctuated only by the primal moans escaping her lips as she pleads for more. Begs him to go harder, faster. 

His name is halfway out of her mouth again, a wave of unfathomable pleasure just beginning to crest within her, when the haze lifts and it all changes back as quickly as the vision came.

The rolling pin has dropped from her hands and is laying at her feet. Her fingers are wrapped around the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The morning sun is shining bright through the kitchen window, the soft golden light matching the colour of her dress. 

Elain’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. The only thing that lingers from her vision is the desperate ache between her thighs. When she dares to look up, Azriel is staring at her - hazel eyes wide with shock. She wonders if maybe she’d said his name out loud. Prays that the way she’d been screaming it had occurred solely in her vision.

She looks away from his gaze quickly, her face heating as she glances at his hands only to remember how they’d been positioned on either side of her body. Flashes of what the two of them had been doing play on repeat in her mind.

It was only a few months ago that he’d noticed that she was a Seer and since then she’s had a number of visions. But none like this, none directly about herself . And certainly none like this - so visceral and explicit that there were no hidden meanings to be found, no need to decipher what she had just seen. 

Never in her life had she felt like that before, not that she had much experience. She just never fathomed that it could be that good. All she could think of was the feeling of him inside her coupled with the glorious weight of his body pressing hers into the benchtop. All she could think of was how much she wanted that vision to come to life, how much she wanted to hear him whisper all those filthy things again.

“Elain?” Azriel’s voice cuts through her racing thoughts. Had he been saying something to her this entire time? 

She lifts her eyes back to his, watches as his eyes scan her face… her throat. Watches the way they drift down and linger on the rise and fall of her breasts as she attempts to slow her racing heart. 

“Are you alright? Did you see … something?” He enquires, voice gentle although she doesn’t miss the heat in it. She doesn’t miss the shift in his scent either, the heady musk of it intermingling with the sweet scent of her own arousal.

Elain nods slowly, searching for anything to say. Any lingering hope that he hadn’t picked up on exactly what type of vision she just had is immediately dashed when his eyes lock on hers again and she sees the way they’ve darkened - sees the desire in them that she’s sure matches the desire in hers. 

She thanks the gods above when they both hear the sound of creaking floorboards at the top of the stairs. Azriel’s shadows come out from wherever they’ve been hiding, whisking away the scent of arousal in the air, just as Cassian appears at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Morning Elain, Az.” Cassian greets them as he saunters into the kitchen. “How are we ruining my diet today, El?”

“Cinnamon rolls…” Elain’s voice is traitorously breathy. She turns to face him, releases a deep sigh and attempts to plaster a smile on her face as she runs her sweaty palms over the front of her apron. She’s still flustered even with the distraction of a third party. “I just forgot I needed to do… something. Do you think you could finish grinding this cinnamon for me while I run upstairs?”

“I’ll do it.” Azriel speaks up before Cassian has a chance to reply. She doesn’t even look back at him before she nods and practically flies out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Elain curses under her breath as she quickly shuts the door to her bedroom and collapses on her bed. She tries to ignore the relentless need coursing through her body as she stares up at the ceiling and contemplates how months of this unspoken slow growing tension between them has suddenly culminated into something so tangible.

She wonders how she’ll be able to ever look him in the eye without thinking of him inside of her. Wonders how she’s supposed to continue with life as normal while knowing that this vision would stay embedded in the forefront of her mind until it came to fruition. 

After all this time spent fighting thinking of Azriel in this way, now that she’d gotten a glimpse of what could be, Elain thinks she may just go insane waiting.

#elriel #azriel x elain fanfiction #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #my writing #mine #fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #elriel smut #Spotify

[ephemerensis]

Kalopsia // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

lolz wrote this to cope bc im losing my mind, not proofread xoxo enjoy this is angst and hurt bc forgiving people is too easy when they were more than you could bear

—

“Let’s break up.”

At the time you felt so grown up to offer it. Looking back, it seemed more like an act of desperation. Those words were a lifeline thrown to sea, a silent plea for him to deny you and prove it was all still salvageable. But lifelines meant little when there was nothing to swim back to, and your ship had long been sinking.

Things moved slower in summer. A cruel juxtaposition to the winter you met in, the winter you felt you embodied and the winter he said he loved. But as the days grew longer, honeying the time you spent together, you could feel it all so much more clearly. You practically bathed in it, suffocated by the ailments of the inevitable. It wasn’t working.

So you casted your lifeline, pleading Tim would grasp it, he would disagree and fight for you. All under the guise that this needed to happen.

Your head rested on his core, the two of you sprawled out on a picnic blanket under the clear skies. His hand was running its course through your hair. The sun was so warm, but not quite as warm as the hope that flickered in your chest when you felt him tense. His hand paused and for a moment you tasted salvation. Then he unfroze, melted in the summer heat. Tantalizingly caught up in the lazy summer air’s slow, he was fine.

And you were bitter when he accepted.

“Okay.”

You could feel the reserved smile that graced his gentle features without looking. But even after all this time, you could never tell really what he meant by it. And that was months ago.

Now you were in the city alone. Your own apartment. A steady job. The same cream cheese everything bagel in the morning with a cup of hazelnut coffee from the cute little bakery on the corner next to the police station everyday, where you knew his brother worked but also knew he would never visit. The one you were bustling into today, the drops of snow that followed you in instantly disintegrating when met with the warm bakery air. The lingering thoughts of him and his coffee comatoses fading as the sharp cinnamon scent hit you.

There he stood. The millisecond it took for you to recognize him stretched on for centuries. You missed him so much that you’d conjured up a visage built from a stranger’s likeness, you’d thought. The familiar unkempt raven head of hair, and the way he was always hunched over to squint at his phone while he waited for his morning cold brew.

But it was him. Your body knew it before your mind did, feet freezing in place as you stared. When he turned around, the roots holding you to the ground grasped you for a moment too long. It was enough for him to see you and your dumb conflicted expression, despite the hustle bustle of morning rush hour. Enough for him to stare back a second longer than he should’ve as you turned around and took off.

You couldn’t place in your head exactly why you were running. The cafe just suddenly felt too small and the look in his eyes as you turned to leave felt too gentle. So against any semblance of logic, you decided to hurry away. You heard him call after you as you ran down the sidewalk. You saw him comb through the crowds almost frantically as you pressed your back against an alley building. You saw him run past the alley. But like an unavoidable magnetism, you saw him stop and turn; eyes finding your own amongst the throng of moving people.

Everything was silent as he approached you. Slow; like a tamer to a wild animal, holding your gaze the whole way. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel so vulnerable. As if his eyes could read your soul.

And then he was in front of you and the noise came rushing back. In fact, it was a little too loud as you stared up at him, you almost didn’t hear him say hello.

It was a timid one. The kind you would offer your mother after the two of you fought and you wanted to test the waters after the smoke cleared.

“Hi,” you said in the same small way. There wasn’t much else to say. This was the boy who knew every unapologetic aspect about you. The one whose wellbeing became your earth shattering priority. The one your heart still whined at the prospect of knowing. The boy you shouldn’t be thinking of again, because he was nothing to you now. You broke up.

He looked at you almost apologetically. Not that he had to. You weren’t mad at him. You had no right to be angry. You, with your subliminal messaging and silent pleas, broke up with him.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself as the memories bubbled up. Never knowing where he was at night. Apology flowers on days that dates were lost to fatigue. That stupid feeling of being taken for granted every time you wanted to get closer to him and he pushed you away as if you were in the wrong.

It was a mutual, clean, break. You must’ve been clingy for him to let you go so easily.

“How are you doing?”

You couldn’t make eye contact. It wasn’t his fault but it didn’t hurt you any less. If he knew you he’d know that. If he knew you. Instead you kept your gaze pinned to the wall behind him as you tried to sort your thoughts and swallow your feelings.

“I’m doing great,” you hated how meek you sounded. As if a person you knew so deeply would make you shrink back in your shell like this. “You?”

“I’m good too. Do you visit that shop often?” If he could sense your apprehension he didn’t show it. Enthused was a better word to describe him.

“No,” you lied. Half because you didn’t want him to know where you frequented. “Just when I’m in the area.” Half because you were tired of bearing yourself to someone that never really saw you.

“That’s cool.” You could hear the smile in his voice. The awkward one that made it seem like this, you, pained him. It was so frustratingly condescending, as if he wasn’t the cause of your misgivings.

“Yeah.” A beat of silence passed and you waited. For what exactly, you couldn’t be sure. An apology, an extension, a follow up question— some tidbit about his life you were dying to know but too hurt to ask. Anything.

But that was it. It was too little and too much all at once. Nothing changed.

Ducking your head down, you slipped past him, reentering the busy sidewalk to just get away as he stayed still there. Foolishly, something in you, the part that still loved him, hoped he would stop you but you knew better.

Except he did. He caught you by your arm just as you were about to slip away into the crowd.

“Wait.”

You had every means to pull away, his grip wasn’t so tight. This was a plea, not a command. He was cruel for it, because as much as you’d get mad and give up and run away, you would crumble if he’d asked. That’s exactly how you felt now. Frustrated to no end but as he uttered that ‘wait,’ you felt the earth crumble at your feet, forging a path that could only lead to staying for him.

It was enough to make you want to cry.

“Please. Don’t do that to me.” Meek and mild and weak; something you could never be to anyone else. The worst part was, you never wanted to present yourself to him that way either— he’d just invoked it in you in a way that made you feel so exposed it was terrifying.

Now he looked confused, as if this was unexpected, “…what?”

“Don’t tell me to wait, because if you do I’ll wait here for centuries. I’ll look for you in every alley that I pass on the way.” You looked at him, locking your tear brimmed eyes with his own cerulean depths you’d fallen into time and time again. “I’ll seek refuge in every stranger I meet, wondering what exactly I’m missing that made us wrong as if I had some fatal flaw that made me so dismissible to you. Every time you open your mouth, I listen like a dog and you would know that if you’d known me. It’s mean, Tim. You’re being mean.”

You were crying now, calcium streaking your cheeks, but you were too used to the embarrassment to care. That’s how it was with him. You were raw. Vulnerable. And he just looked at you as if that’s the way you were.

“I’m sorry.” His hand reached towards you, to rest on your shoulder, but you shrugged it away.

“You’re not! And that’s the thing with you, I can’t even be mad. You’ve done nothing wrong. This is all my fault! I couldn’t ever be good. I couldn’t ever talk to you. I couldn’t ever let go. I overthink every little thing when it comes to you, I can’t even be here without imploding. I broke up with you. So please… don’t be cruel and let me go. Tell me to leave and I’ll listen.”

For a minute he just stared back and you wondered if your words even registered at all. You couldn’t read his expression.

“Why should I?”

It was your turn to be bewildered.

“You’re wrong, for the record, and I’m sorry I let you go; and I miss you.”

“Tim—“

“I know you. Not as well as I’d like, and clearly not enough for you to see it, but I do. You have never been selfish once in your life; not with people you care for. You keep your mouth shut and you act like everything is fine to avoid burdening others.”

He’d taken your hand somewhere during the course of his proclamation, but you didn’t feel inclined to pull away. For the first time you saw it in him; the sundering you felt when you bore your sores to him “I’d known that, and I thought if I just gave you time you’d open up to lean on me.”

“I tried, Tim. I reached out to you every chance I got to the point where I doubted you even wanted to be around me. And I know that’s my fault too for not being more benign, but you can’t have expected that out of me.” You couldn’t count the amount of times you poured your heart out to an empty spigot. He was so above it all, it made you feel bad. Tim never cried like you did, fists pounding on the floor. Nor did he run into half as many conflicts.

“And I was wrong for it.”

Even now it felt like you were losing a war he didn’t know you were fighting. You had your hand laid bare while he was still dealing the deck. “Why’d you agree with me? Why did you let me break up with you?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted and I was stupid. I knew you were hurting, and more than anything I wanted you to be okay. I’m sorry, but please don’t ever think it was easy because it wasn’t. I just didn’t want you to feel any worse.”

“I was hurt! I was so inconsolably hurt, but it hurt so much more to be without you.”

Your voice broke as you choked back a sob. He pulled you in and like a dog you didn’t resist, falling back into the arms you’d run away from. They were so warm.

“Let me try again,” he’d whispered to you.

And against your better judgement you whispered back, “okay.”

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake angst #angst #batman #dc #red robin x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader

[thespiritssaidso]

Oh, I'll Show You Tender!

Summary: if the psych writer's weren't pussies and wrote a shassie kiss in 'Juliet Takes a Luvvah', I think it'd look something like this.

Notes: it’s short. But I kinda like it, soooo yeah. idk I guess I’m not the best at rewrites. Maybe.

"Uh-! I am feeling cold. I am feeling, really cold." Juliet aimed the last bit towards the two men currently running to help her, in an attempt to tell them it was a false alarm.

The two skid to a stop and Shawn, thinking quickly, turned Lassie around and leaned his head on his chest, hugging tightly.

"What are you doing get your meathooks off of me!"

Shawn’s voice was muffled as he spoke through Lassie’s suit. “Do you wanna blow her cover? Put your arms around me!” He felt the slight pause in him. “Come on, sell it!”

With stilted moves, he begrudgingly put his arms around Shawn.

“Now rub my back at a medium pace!”

Through gritted teeth, Lassie said, “You are an idiot.”

“Make it tender!”

“I’m being tender!”

Shawn had an idea. “Wait! This just in-” he reached down and grabbed the man’s ass.

Lassie, surprised, jumped about a foot in the air.

In the distance, Juliet's date said, “Love is in the air, huh?”

She awkwardly laughed. “Yeah! Something… something’s in the air.”

“Spencer!” Lassiter hissed.

“Shhhh, tender, Lassie.”

“Ohhh I’ll show you tender.” He let go of Shawn's body, and roughly grabbed the sides of his face. Lassiter tilted Shawn's head up and kissed him.

Whatever Shawn was thinking Lassiter was going to do, it was nowhere near this. This, this was a surprise. A pleasant surprise, in fact.

Against his will, he found himself closing his eyes and leaning in. He raised a hand and grabbed the back of Lassiter’s head, pushing him closer.

Lassiter didn’t resist. Actually, he did the exact opposite. He had been the one to initiate it, but now he was equally returning it.

Everything else faded into the background. All he could think of was Lassiter's lips on his.

They were suddenly interrupted by a very loud honk. Lassiter sprung away from Shawn, and they looked to see that the stakeout van had pulled up beside them.

Shawn watched as Lassiter walked up and pulled the door open, and licked his lips, tasting a lingering hint of cinnamon sharp on his tongue. He shook his head, clearing out any other thoughts, and followed the detective inside.

———

Later in the van, the three — not including the other police officers that joined in the stakeout — sat in silence.

Shawn had chosen to sit behind Lassiter, and Juliet decided to sit on the other side of Shawn.

Shawn spoke up. “So uh… Do you want to talk about-”

“No.”

And that was that.

—————

Notes: hoooo boy, I think this is all I’ll be able to write for a bit.

AO3 link

@sweetsfandomcorner

#Shassie #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #juliet o'hara #🔮🔫 #psych #psych 2006 #psych usa #psychusa #psych tv #psych tv show #psych show #psych fanfiction #psych fic #psych fanfic #toast tries to write

[the-ineffable-dance]

Christmas in the Bookstore

Happy Winter Festival of Lights

I'm so grateful to the fandom for being so supportive and wonderful! It's been fantastic getting to know everyone. To celebrate, I wrote a little fluffy Christmas piece about the Ineffable Husbands having their first Christmas together at the bookstore.

Enjoy!

Christmas Together

     “Christmas, Angel?  Really?”

     Crowley walked in the front door of the bookshop, brushing the snow from his fire-red hair.  His eyebrows rose alarmingly as he took in the positive explosion of Christmas cheer that filled the interior.  Aziraphale was perched on a small ladder, just finishing trimming an enormous tree.  He turned to smile shyly at the demon, shrugging as he twined the last glass icicle into the branches. 

     “You’ve never decorated for Christmas before.” 

     “We must keep up appearances,” Aziraphale replied.  “And we do deserve it, I dare say.  A nice evening, just the two of us, after saving the world again and all.  I just thought, ‘Well, why not?’  Do you think… is it too much?”  The angel twisted nervously, suddenly worried that he had inadvertently gone a bit too far.

     Crowley lowered his dark glasses and took in the main room.  Twinkling lights covered every surface, with evergreen branches draped over the handrail of the stairs.  Every shelf held an array of electric candles… at least the demon didn’t have to worry that the bookshop would go up again.  The gentle sounds of carols drifted out of the gramophone that sat near Aziraphale’s armchair, and the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air.

     “Just enough,” he said.  The look of relief on Aziraphale’s face was worth the lie.

     “Oh, do you really think so?”  The angel beamed at him.  “I wanted to do it properly.  I mean, of course, I’ve read about it, and the other shopkeepers on Whickber Street all seemed to know just what they were doing, but it is a bit different when one does it for themselves, isn’t it?”

     “Need some help then, Angel?”

     “As a matter of fact…”  Aziraphale held up a delicate glass star.  It was beautiful, iridescent panes of glass held together by thin lines of brass and lit from the inside so that it gave off a glow of its own.  “I just need to put this on top of the tree.  Be a dear, won’t you, and make sure I don’t slip.”  He turned, playfully glancing at the demon from over his shoulder.  Crowley grimaced, but moved over to the tree and placed his hands on Aziraphale’s waist.  

     “Oh, Crowley.”  Aziraphale smiled down at him.  “You’re not blushing, are you, my dear?”

     “Ngk.  Stop teasing, Angel, and hurry up already.”

     With a chuckle, Aziraphale reached up, enjoying the feeling of Crowley’s warm hands holding him steady, and placed the star on the top most branch.  There, the angel thought.  It was just as he had hoped… beautiful and shimmery.  Not as good as a real star, of course, the ones that Crowley had created, but still, lovely.  As he stepped down, Crowley didn’t take his hands from the angel’s waist.  Surprised, Aziraphale turned, but the look on Crowley’s face brought him up short.  Crowley’s eyes were unblinking, the yellow iris spread so wide no white was visible.  They were trained on the star, fully absorbed at the sight, a strange smile on his face.

     “My dear boy… are you alright?”

     It was silent between them for a moment… even the music from the gramophone seemed to fade into the background.  Crowley dragged his eyes away from the top of the tree and gazed down into the face of his angel.  Aziraphale’s white curls caught the light of all the illumination until it seemed like he was glowing.  Crowley’s heart did an uncomfortable flip-flop in his chest as he took in the sight of the angel in his arms.

     “ ‘M alright,” he confirmed, but his voice quivered as he spoke.  “ ‘s beautiful, Angel.”

     “I did hope… that you would like it,” Aziraphale whispered.  “I’ve spent a long time looking for one that was just right… years, you know.  But I wanted to wait until everything was perfect for you.”

     “For me?”

     Aziraphale nodded.  He took a tiny step closer into Crowley’s arms, one hand reaching up and tangling in the demon’s short red hair.  “Merry Christmas, Crowley,” he said, blue eyes shining, and standing on tiptoe he kissed him.

     It was like a nebula had exploded in Crowley’s chest.  His arms tightened around Aziraphale as his mind filled with his angel… the softness of his corporation, the taste of him, the warmth of his lips.  Six thousand years of pining washed away in the feeling of Aziraphale pressed against him.  When they finally broke apart, Crowley gently placed a hand against the angel’s cheek, refusing to let go.

     “Merry Christmas, Angel,” he said softly, and pulled him in again.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #mr a. z. fell #good omens fandom #aziracrow #anthony j crowley #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable idiots #good omens christmas

[custardcrazy]

Hushed

pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

warnings: nada, except i wrote this at 1 am and i’m tired sorry. also my search history is SO WEIRD now (don’t ask) 

summary: a brief glimpse into a sleepy morning with your boyfriend.

You woke slowly, as your surroundings came into focus.

Warmth behind you. Covers haphazardly strewn over your body. Some sheets must’ve been laying on the floor, and you felt a cool breeze below your knees. There were birds chirping outside, and sunlight was threatening to invade your closed eyelids, dyeing the usual darkness a warm orange.

You were vaguely annoyed for a few moments, as your initial reaction was to be, but it dissipated quickly before you finally opened your eyes. It was too early for you to be irritated.

Steve had his arms wrapped around your torso, holding you close to him. He was still asleep, and you could feel his chest rising and falling. His warm breath on your neck. His legs, somewhat tangled up in yours. His hands, placed over your arms tucked in front of you. 

He smelled faintly of cinnamon-scented soap, and the shampoo he’d always used. You were pretty sure he still used the same brand that he’d washed his hair with since high school. But you weren’t complaining, as it was soft and familiar. Comforting, always.

You didn’t want to move, instead focusing on his hands. His fingers. How they were elegant, and somehow still masculine. You liked his hands, and could always picture the way they felt in yours, down to the last detail. They were a little rough at the palms and fingertips, but still soft nonetheless. 

Steve always liked holding your hands. Running a gentle thumb over your knuckle. Squeezing them reassuringly if he noticed you were feeling apprehensive about something. Pressing a teasing kiss to your wrist, just to see you laugh. 

You recalled the first time that you’d held hands with him. He was nervous, and you could tell -- they were a tad bit clammy, and he’d apologized profusely for it. But it was still memorable. Standing there on the train platform, with your fingers intertwined. 

Time had almost seemed to slow back then, and everyone else faded away. Except for you two. 

“.. I can tell that you’re awake, y’know.” 

You were yanked out of your daydreaming by the very man you’d been daydreaming about, as he stirred behind you, the covers shifting around him. He didn’t seem to want to get up just yet, as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“Good morning to you too,” you said, and you were sure that you could feel the smile on his lips when he drew his mouth away. 

“..What time is it?” Steve asked, and his voice rumbled through you. A little deeper and raspier at the edges, due to the hour. 

You awkwardly craned your neck, squinting, and managed to catch sight of the red numbers displayed upon the clock on your bedside table. “Uh.. ‘round six. You want me to make you coffee yet, or..?” Trailing off, you exhaled slowly, and made a mental note to turn the thermostat down. 

“Hell no, too early.” Came his answer, tinged with a bit of amusement. “If I get caffeine now, I’ll be bouncing off the walls by eight. You know that.” 

“Right,” you said, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you spoke. “Wouldn’t want that to ever happen again.” Steve kissed the top of your head, and you leaned into his touch, rather like a cat seeking more attention. “That’d be a pain in the ass to deal with.” 

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he murmured, as you adjusted your legs as to get more comfortable on the mattress. 

“Now, just shut up. We don’t have to get up for an hour.” The grin was evident in his voice, and you smiled too, though you weren’t entirely sure if he could see your expression from your current position. Humming out an affirmative, you tucked yourself more into his toned arms. 

Though usually you would have a hard time falling back asleep- now was not one of those times. 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff

[more-better-words]

Alright, one and all, strap in. It's time for M. B. Words to engage in self-congratulation (and self-promotion) of the most SHAMELESS variety.

The past few years hadn't been the greatest for me in terms of creative output - one series petered out, the inspiration fading, and another that I began started strong, but I soon found myself overwhelmed by the scale of the challenge I'd created for myself. Then came Enterprise, and (more specifically) Trip and T'Pol.

I've been a star Trek fan my entire life, but I'd never found myself compelled to write fic for it. And I've told this part of the story before - how the end of ENT and the utter hatchet job that was TATV made me want to give Trip and T'Pol something better than what the show had.

"I'll just write this little post-Terra Prime thing - few thousand words - and get it out of my system," I said.

Dear reader, this is not what occurred.

Part of it was the incredibly kind and supportive encouragement I received from the fandom, and more than that, for the first time in a while, I felt like I had a story to tell. A story that just kept growing.

So instead of a one-off, it turned into a series, and in the course of 2023, I've published work that I'm really proud of, and I'm not entirely sure what the alchemy is that's unlocked this for me, but it feels good to be creating and sharing, so I'm not going to question it.

That series, Built to Last, is comprised of the following:

From the Ground Up - 9.8k words, rated G. Post Terra Prime, Trip and T'Pol decide to give a relationship a shot. Surprise, surprise, it actually works.

What We Build Here - 22.7k words, rated G. The first six months of Trip and T'Pol's marriage, and their time on Earth, before the universe conspires against them.

For the Duration - 19.2k words, rated T. The Earth/Romulan War still happens in this timeline, sorry. (I may actually be proudest of this one, because I did some non-linear stuff that I think worked pretty well)

The Place We Call Home - ongoing, rated G. Babies and domestic bliss ahoy!

"But Words," you say, "Trip and T'Pol are super hot together. Have you written anything that caters to a...spicier palate?"

Funny you should ask! For most of my fic writing career, I’ve been a bit shy about writing sex scenes. But this autumn, driven by my ceaseless envy towards those who wrote them being oh-so-hot (you know who you are), I decided this was a challenge I needed to undertake for myself. I still haven’t written I’d rate E (maybe someday, I dunno), but I think I’m getting better at it!

Rounding the Bases

Mine

Intoxicants

I’ve also (ALSO!) posted some ficlets here on tumblr that I’ve collected over on AO3.

Scrapbook

Cinnamon Candy

tl;dr if you’ve stuck around this long - I’ve written a ton this year, and I’m happy about it, like really, genuinely pleased with it, and I hope you don’t mind me sharing it with all of you. Happy New Year.

#fic #ao3 #trip x t'pol #star trek enterprise #big ole post #shameless self promotion #but also I just…want to share? #thanks all #happy new year

[chimcess]

Birdie Shoppe || pjm (IV)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader  Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin  Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut,  Word Count: 4.4k Chapter Summary:  Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the north and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Birdie, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the 123rd Birdie, a young girl who was given her position too early and asked by the goddess herself to fulfil a task none had ever done before- become the Grand Witch of the Foxglove pack. Now a woman, Y/N is revered as the most loved and powerful Birdie of all time, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Chapter Warnings: Long-hair Jimin (yes, this is a warning), Mating Ritual, Chief Ahn is a tiny bit rude (but still chill), a lot of anxiety, General angsty heartbreak stuff, Y/N is not happy at all, but she’s trying to be, everyone is feeling it tbh, blood, graphic injury (?), magic, Sol is naked but nothing graphic, the spirits are back, Jimin is a cinnamon roll, did I say long-hair Jimin? (think The Witcher), very tame   A/N: Part 4 has arrived! It’s a bit shorter than normal but the next one should be a bit on the longer side. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it! prev. | masterlist | next

Sitting at my alter, I breathed evenly with my eyes closed. I had spent the better part of the afternoon praying and meditating. I would need energy tonight, as I had with every previous trip to Bangtan, but moral support from the Gods would be necessary for a successful mating ritual. Opening my eyes, I looked at the grimoire in my lap and sighed. Sol would be presenting tonight, and the pack would know who their head alpha will be. I felt my heart clench but fought through the discomfort to read. 

I had been lucky enough to receive the Grand Witch’s grimoires after he passed on. They had proven most helpful. I soaked in the words he wrote, the step-by-step instructions for each part of the ritual, and most importantly- the parts where I was to leave the circle as quickly as possible. Having never aided a Luna through her mating ritual before, I was appreciative of the guidance and wisdom his books taught me.  

My cottage was silent. Shiloh was sleeping in her bed and none of my friends had come by. Everyone was making themselves scarce. While I appreciated the sentiment, and it was helping me to stay focused, I was not enjoying the emptiness. My mind wandered too often, and it was becoming increasingly more distracting. 

I had stopped pretending my feelings were not hurt a few days ago. I was mourning Jimin before anything was decided, my adoration and love making it physically impossible to be happy for him or anybody else. Now with only a few hours left, I was growing sick with worry and selfishly hoped Namjoon would be picked instead. Even if I would never have Jimin I did not want him with anyone else. Feeling a new set of tears filling my eyes, I roughly wiped them away before closing the grimoire. 

Standing, I looked around my home desperately. I did not want to sew anymore, I had done it all week, and had grown bored of it. Wood carving would be fun but tiring. The same could be said for blacksmithing a blade. I would also wake Shiloh and I knew she needed her rest. Then my eyes landed on the large, red carpet in the living room.  

Slowly, I lowered onto my hands and knees before lifting the only corner not obstructed by furniture. The large black, cast-iron handle stared back at me as did the bear carvings I had dug into the door’s wood many years ago. I ran my finger along the fading lines and sighed. I had done something similar before the fire. Aldara was furious with me, and yet it had taken her mere minutes to join me. I thought about the missing animals for months after she was gone, staring at the empty floor only solidifying my loneliness, and in a desperate attempt for relief I had started carving bears again. I only got three done before I broke down into tears. I had never tried it again. 

Feeling inspired, I pulled a knife from my belt and began carving. My hands moved easily now, none of my lines crooked or hesitant. Unlike my old drawings, these would never fade. Before I had even realized it, I had carved a wolf’s head and groaned. This was not working.  

I slid my little knife back into its holder and lifted the little basement door. My furniture shuffled and dragged but with a flick of my hand everything was back in its proper place. Looking back at the door, my heart broke when I saw the violent stabs in the wood. It was days after the fire, and I had locked myself in the basement. It was the only place left to sleep. Yoongi, Seokjin, and Wendy had come to help fix things along with their parents. After treating all of them horribly, I locked myself away and destroyed many things. The door was almost another casualty. 

“Ignis,” I called out and a flame sprouted from my index finger. 

Using the small ladder attached to the floor, I lowered myself into the dark room. The flame floated around aimlessly with little energy in its movements. I remembered a time when my magic danced and sang brightly and was saddened. Once I reached the bottom of the steps, I reached out and stroked the flame. It shied away from me before growing larger. Sighing, I squared my shoulders and focused. 

“Lampas.” 

The flame shot out, its body exploding in multiple different directions. On the walls were candle holders and they all lit up brilliantly. The flames flickered and danced normally. A memory from Yule years ago came to mind and I felt sad again. Back then, my flames did backflips and gymnastics vying for my attention. Now they were just as plain and boring as Aldara’s had been. She was right in the end. I did learn that magic was more serious than fun.

Down here is where all of the grimoires and books of Birdie's past were stored. It was the reason the room had been spared in the fire. Sixty years ago, Birdie North had placed a powerful protection spell on the room. None of the other Birdies were ever able to figure out how she did it or the way to reverse it. I had tried my hand at figuring it out when I was ten but gave up rather quickly. If Malorna, the 109th Birdie, and someone blessed with absolute intelligence, could not decipher how it happened then I was positive no one ever would. 

Walking over to the large bookshelves across the small room, I ran my fingers along the spines and sighed. Even with all of the knowledge in the world at my fingertips I was clueless. What do you do when what you want is unattainable? Uselessly pine or pretend like you’re over it?

Aldara would say to find a middle ground and go from there. But what middle ground do you find in this situation? Especially since I know Jimin does not want to be Sol’s mate. That thought alone sent a thrill through my body. I felt embarrassed and ashamed of myself for it. 

“Be patient,” A voice whispered into the quiet room.

I smiled sadly. The spirit gently caressed my body and held me close. I had grown used to their presence by now and tried to see if I could figure out who was visiting me today. It was much easier to do if I let them in but I was not in the space to allow that to happen. I had somewhere to be in a few hours and I could not miss it. The spirit ran her fingers through my hair.

“All will reveal itself in time.”

I swallowed thickly, “And if it is what I think it is?”

“You will survive it, little one,” The spirit replied warmly. It had to be Heidi and the thought made my tears well. While I appreciated her reassurance I wanted my auntie here instead. Aldara always knew exactly what to say. A choked sob slipped past my lips. “You are brave and strong. You have nothing to fear.”

But I had everything to fear. Watching Sol walk up to Jimin, her blindfold on tightly, and falling to her knees whimpering while he held her protectively. Well, that would be too much to bear. To see the man I love so desperately, irrevocably in love with someone else would surely be impossible to return from. I felt the gentle brushing of fingers on the back of my neck.

“I’m afraid,” I whispered.

“That’s what makes you brave,” They replied.

Drawing a breath, I nodded. Aldara always said that. It was more comforting if I thought about it like that. Still, I felt uneasy. Still, I knew I needed to study more. So, I sat on the floor and tried to clear my mind.

“Fluito,” I commanded, and a book went straight into the palm of my outstretched hand.

I had decided to walk to the village today. The memory of the first time I saw Jimin had plagued me on my way out and I wanted to retrace our steps. We were both young, I was no more than 13, and had gotten lost during Yule. He had walked me back home. I wonder if he remembered it as vividly as I did, or did he put it in the back of his mind save for a rainy day? It was hard to say for sure. I smiled sadly when I spotted a rogue fairy circle. Gosh, I had been so afraid of the fae back then.

It was quiet tonight. Shiloh had gone off with Patto when I left. They wanted good seats for the ceremony. Morla was already there, I was sure of it, and the rest of the gossipers were more than likely chatting away. Seokjin was most likely sleeping already and Yoongi never cared about the pack’s affairs. I stuffed my hand into my cloak pocket and felt around until I felt the letter.

Wendy had written to me just before I had gone off and I did not have the chance to read it. It had been far too long since I had seen my friend. We wrote often, not as often as I would have liked but she was a busy witch, and stayed up to date on one another. In her last letter, she had said she was traveling to Northorn with her younger sister. Joy was meeting with a possible suitor and asked for her to join.

She had stopped visiting after a particularly bad argument with Jin. I did not know what it was about, or what had happened prior, but according to Patto it had been pretty nasty. When Shiloh gave me the gossip mill’s version of events, I took it with a grain of salt. However, the two parts that did make sense to me were jealousy and Yoongi. Jin was helplessly in love with Wendy, who I knew had similar feelings for him, but the kitchen witch was a roadblock. Wendy had a fascination with the man and Jin could never really get over it. They had not spoken since.

I heard rustling in nearby bushes and paused. Looking around my feet, I was sure I was paying attention to every detail around me. Readying myself for a fight, I began walking again. Slower this time. However, nothing came of it. After five minutes of waiting for whatever had moved to make an appearance, I grew bored and walked at my normal pace. The bushes never rustled again.

The walls of Bangtan were formidable. Tall and built with stone, it looked impenetrable. Just outside the walls of the city lay a small farm. I knew a human family lived there and worked those fields. While I never knew their names, I had heard they were friendly and gave travelers lodging in their spare house. Most humans were wary of wolves- especially anyone from the north. 

On the other end of the wall was a small stream that led back into the ocean. Connected only by a bridge, the ceremonial cave sat. The town itself was quaint and beautiful. On the back, left end was the church that sat up on the hillside surrounded by trees and foliage. In the center of town was the market with homes and businesses lining the rest of the streets. The copiae stayed on the other end of the wall beside the stream. Foxglove was small but mighty and I adored it.

The streets were empty tonight. Everyone was either at the cave or locked away in their homes. The energy of the moon charged me and I knew I was about to have a hard road ahead of me. Even if Sol did not pick Jimin I would still be torn to pieces after putting my body through this. I wished toLilith, hoping for a healthy recovery and made my way to the cave. 

The cave was silent despite the rows of people inside. The unmated wolves were already lined up and waiting for things to begin. The moon was still too low to bring the luna inside. I walked forward and began preparing myself for the ceremony.

Just as I had with every other ceremony, I cut my hair and changed my clothes. Today, the body paint would be done differently. After reading through the Grand Witch’s grimoire, I knew I had to show respect differently tonight. Getting in touch with my feminine side was crucial, and that involved white and soft lines.

I started with drawing two large circles around my eyes. Using a puddle of water in the cave to see my reflection, I then began to bring the outer edges down. The shape made my eyes look sad. I cut off the line at my jawline before fixing the top shape. I used my sockets for reference and began to fill in the area that connected my eye to my nose bridge. Afterwards, I made slightly curved lines that went up. They looked like moth wings and I felt happy. It was very similar to the pictures the Grand Witch had. 

After drawing two little lines on my bottom lip and then a large one down my chin, I was satisfied. I looked gentler today than most. I then reached into my bag and took out crushed pearls and tapped it onto the high points of my face. In the grimoire it was an optional step but one that was looked upon favorably. Apparently, it made the pain lessen though not by much. I was happy I had some in the cupboards regardless.

I then began setting up my altar and made sure to keep my eyes on the moon. It was nearly time when I was finished. I did a quick cleansing spell to ward off any bad luck before announcing it was time. Everyone waited with baited breath.

I ran around the alphas to make a quick circle around them for when everything started. It would be impossible to do after. Sol was being escorted inside the moment I was back to my original place. 

She was naked and blindfolded. Her dark, golden skin was covered in dark chocolate freckles. Even though I knew it was futile, I tried to give her some privacy by not letting my eyes wander too much. She was trembling and looked uneasy. I could only imagine the fear going through her right now. I did not let my eyes wander to the men standing before me. I could not become distracted.

Chief Ahn held Sol with tenderness. He had raised her once it was found that she was the Luna. No one was allowed to claim her as their child. After getting her to the center of the circle, he quickly made his way down. I looked up at the moon through a hole in the cave. 

It was time.

I stepped away from the circle quickly. No one was to be too close. It could confuse Sol or send her into a frenzy. She, or her mate for that matter, very well could kill anyone who they saw as a threat. I did not want to take a chance.

Now away from the ceremony and watching on like everyone else, I let my eyes wander to the man I had been thinking about for weeks. Jimin looked stoic and resigned. I could imagine he was feeling nervous. He looked straight ahead and did not waver. I felt myself tearing up. No, I scolded. You cannot do this here.

Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself down enough to dismiss my tears. I could cry later. Right now, I would look at him as if he were mine until he was not. Until the air shifted and his eyes softened for the omega at his feet, I would watch him.

Sol suddenly lifted her face into the air and her trembling had become full on shaking. Her body fell to the floor as she cried out in pain. I watched with bated breath. It was happening. Taking a deep breath, I watched as she began to crawl.

My eyes went back to the alpha across the room. His hair glistened in the moonlight while his face was hidden in the shadows. A small breeze made his hair twirl. I heard Sol cry out and looked back at her.

She was in agony. I could see it all over her face. From my reading, I knew this was a hard moment for Sol. Her mate was right there and yet she had to seek him out with her senses alone. In a room filled with other alphas no less. Her small body continued to crawl towards her mate. My eyes went back to Jimin.

I was surprised when our eyes locked. The world around me stood still for a moment and I sucked in a deep breath. He looked so… frightened. Of what, I did not know, but he trusted me enough to show me that. I remembered our last conversation and felt my heart break in half. Jimin does not want this.

Then, I heard a loud scream. Snapping back to reality, I looked at Sol. There she was whining and rubbing her face against her alpha’s leg. My shock and joy about it being someone else almost made me forget to check who it was. Quickly saying the binding spell, the other alphas moved away and trapped the newly mated pair in the circle. 

“It can’t be!” I heard someone behind me.

“There must be a mistake,” Said another.

There in the middle of the circle lay Sol, her body practically wrapped around Kim Taehyung’s legs. Almost in shock, the man ran his fingers through her hair. This was the first time any man had seen it. I cleared my throat and began to sing.

The pairing spell was not really a spell at all. Only a charm for good luck and hope for many children. It was said to have produced strong heirs in the past so it was tradition. It had taken me many moons to change it to a spell song. Taehyung had helped the Luna stand and held her closely. She shook and held onto him with all her might. I let my eyes wander after the song to where Jimin was. He looked pleased. 

Miles had been right, I thought. 

I could hear whispers and cries of contempt around the room. No one was happy about this save for Taehyung's family. I could hear his siblings cheering with their mother. I glanced at Chief Ahn. While he did not looked particularly happy, he did not seem too upset either. He knew that the goddess had made her choice. I smiled from ear-to-ear.

“Luna Sol,” I said. “The goddess had chosen your other half. Kim Taehung, you are now the rightful alpha of Bangtan Forest.”

Taehyung smiled at me happily. Sol was in heaven breathing in her alpha’s scent. Kneeling at my altar, I placed my hands on the robe I had prepared before. After singing a quick protection spell, I placed it into my hands before lifting it.

“Come,” I said.

Taehyung sat before me bringing Sol with him. She sat in his lap with her face buried in his neck. 

“Your robes, Luna,” I said gently, hoping my voice would not reach the ears of others.

She quickly untangled herself, snatching the garment from my hands only to go back to Taehyung without putting them on. The alpha took them from her and placed them around her shoulders. The alphas had their robes on already. 

“It is time for me to give you a gift,” I said kindly, already beginning to feel the burn in my back.

I had researched ways to make my wings sprout out without needing the sunlight. Making a sacrifice to Lilith was one way, but I was not using blood for this. However, another way was to gift my feathers during a ceremony. A Bridie from long ago called Reina had talked about it in her spellbook. I tried it myself a few days ago and it worked. It was, however, the most painful experience I had ever gone through.

Putting my faith into the pearl on my face, I began to sing. My back felt like I was being stabbed with a hot branding iron. Sweat pooled down my neck and I screamed out the last part of the spell in agony. I could feel my blood dripping down my body and pooled around me. Feathers fell into the sticky puddle.

Taking two from my wings, I placed them at my altar with shaking hands. I braced myself against the wood and bit my lip as they went back in. I could taste iron and salt. Crying, I put my hands over the feathers and began to sing once more. Shaky and out of breath, the spell made the feathers lift and spin. As I composed myself, the feathers began to change colors and two pristine, white feathers landed gently on my altar. Looking at the couple, Taehyung looked ill while Sol was still at his neck without a care in the world.

“For your new beginnings,” I choked out, using magic to hand over the feathers. My hands were still covered in blood and would stain them. Taehyung took them in awe. I blew and used my magic to make the salt circle disappear. “May they bring you peace and hope.”

With the ceremony over, the people were loud and vocalizing their woes. No one had expected Taehyung to be the alpha except Miles, it seemed. Tired and worn, I allowed myself the chance to lay on the ground to catch my breath. Taehyung called out to me, but Chief Ahn was on him before he could do anything to help me.

“We must speak, alpha,” Chief Ahn said and then looked at me. “Alpha Park! Take care of this.”

“Yes, chief.”

Eye heavy, I lifted myself up and waved my hands. Taehyung told me to rest but I ignored him. I needed to pick up my things. 

“Birdie,” Taehyung said. “You don’t look well.”

“I can do this,” I huffed, forcing my body to move. 

Strong hands covered mine. Jimin looked upset and I froze. What had happened?

“I will do this,” He said, voice hard. “Lay down.”

“But-” I protested.

“Lay.”

I did as I was told this time. Truth is, I was exhausted but I was more afraid of what I could do with Jimin now that he was free of his title. I smiled at that. He was still able to be mine, at least in my mind, now. Jimin placed my things into my bag with great care while the rest of the townsfolk left. Many of them were angry.

“Do you need help?” I heard Namjoon ask.

“No,” Jimin replied.

The alpha left without another word. 

Jimin was swift picking up my things before lifting me into his arms. I knew I weighed nothing to him but I worried about the blood staining his robes. They were expensive and hard to get made. He did not seem to care about this and held me tightly against his chest. 

“You can’t do that again,” He scolded once we were outside of the village.

“Do what?” I mumbled.

“That feather trick. You look like death.”

I hummed, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Jimin sighed, “I forgive you.”

The walk felt shorter now. Jimin, too, seemed to like taking the same path from all those years ago. This made me chuckle. Jimin grinned.

“Care to tell me what’s so funny?”

I giggled, “Do you remember the Yule we met?”

Jimin smiled fully this time. I forced my eyes to stay open to watch it. His eyes crinkled into crescents and his front tooth was slightly crooked. It was contagious.

“Of course,” He reassured me. “I still use your path often. I have to admit, it’s the best one yet.”

I sighed happily, “Except for the thorns but it looks like someone took care of those.”

Before, the trail had massive thickets that cut, poked, and sliced every inch of your skin if you were not careful. However, my walkthrough tonight showed no signs of them anywhere. Looking at Jimin, he seemed shy.

“I did once I began doing my rounds. Trying to doge mushroom circles is difficult when you’re that big.”

I snickered. “I could imagine.”

I was elated. While it was a shock to me that Taehyung was the new alpha, the fact that Jimin was not made it less burdensome. In fact, I was so happy to see Sol on Taehyung, I had forgotten to be surprised at all. Now, I am too tired. Maybe in the morning it would settle in.

“I’m glad,” I found myself saying. “That you got what you wanted.”

Jimin nodded but kept his eyes on the path. 

“So am I.”

Shiloh was waiting for me when I got back and fussed over me entirely too much. Jimin had reassured her that I was alright, just as I had, but the owl refused to stop pestering me. The alpha took it in stride and asked for a pen and paper to write to one of my friends.

Shiloh took care of that while I was in bed. I was touched that he went out of his way to do that for me. I heard the owl fly off a few moments later. From the window she used, I assumed she was headed to Yoongi’s house.

“Thank you,” I called out, already slipping into sleep.

Jimin stood in my doorway and smiled softly at me. Walking over, he sat on the edge of my bed and looked at me. I struggled to stay awake.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” He said.

“Don’t worry,” I replied with a yawn. “Yoongi will help me.”

He hummed his reply. I felt my eyes slip shut and quickly popped them open. Jimin chuckled fondly.

“Get some rest, your friend will be here soon.”

I smiled and closed my eyes.

“I’ll stay with you until then.”

I nodded in response. Moving my hands, I remembered Wendy’s note and sighed. It would have to wait for the morning. And I drifted off soon after that.

Taglist:  @greezenini​ @adventures-in-bookland​ @kthstrawberryshortcake-main​ @zae007live @jimin-neverout

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission

#birdieshoppe #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfiction #bts fic #bts #bts fanfic #bts fics #bts ff #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts supernatural au #bts fantasy au #jimin fantasy #bts werewolf au #werewolf jimin #jimin werewolf au #bts abo #bts angst #jimin au #jimin angst #jimin abo #jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #taehyung

[isimpfortoomanypeople]

Winter blues- Eddie Munson x ex Gn reader

Part 1

You thought that you found the perfect person, the one person who would love you no matter what. But why did he turn around and break up with you out of the blue? Returning back from winter break was always going to be hard but you didn’t expect for it to be this hard.

Warnings: smoking, depression, negative self talk (the reader calls themselves pathetic in this) anxiety, alcohol, car crash, mentions of injury, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of drugs and Eddie being a dick but not as much as the first part. Angst with a happy ending and the reader ends up dating someone at the end, I think you can predict who

A/N: thanks for all the love and for helping me write the ending of the this fanfic, I hope that you all like it. You all didn’t want Eddie back and I mean fair enough he was an asshole. Also Chrissy isn’t the villain in this, mostly because I met the actress and she called me cute and pretty so I stan Chrissy lol, also I’m 5’4 and she was smaller than me so that was my reference for her being short in his. I’m glad that you like the songs to listen to so I recommend ‘if you can’t hang’ by Sleeping with Sirens for all of it, ‘Lent’ by autoheart and ‘tequila wine’ by oliva O’Brien till the 7th break. Then ‘a little of your time’ by mae muller, ‘cinnamon girl’ by Lana del ray and ‘line without a hook’ by Ricky Montgomery till the end. I non stop wrote this over the weekend, I love the angst in this and the ending too. I’m from the U.K. sorry if some parts sound overly British, apologises for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

“God I hate him” you sighed resting your head on Gareth’s shoulder as he passed the cigarette that was pressed to his lips to yours.

“You and me both, remind me again why I can’t slash the tyres in his van?”

Taking a long drag, letting out a smile allowing your body to further melt away on to his shoulder.

“As much as I’d love that, it’s technically vandalism and the last thing I need right now is you going to jail” you gently laughed.

It was moments like these that you were extremely thankful, like someone out there was looking out for you enough to land you someone like Gareth in your life. You couldn’t of asked for a better friend, you knew that he had your back no matter what. At this point you were genuinely convinced that he’d help you hide a body, but then again with the whole Eddie situation that may become a reality. Maybe Eddie finally did something right? as he brought you two together, you truly were as thick as thieves.

Gareth was the first person you called as soon as you felt like you weren’t being eaten alive by the darkness of your sorrows. When you recovered the very little strength you could muster after having your heart that wasn’t only just trampled on but tore into so many pieces you doubt you could ever put them back together again. You shakily dialled the second number you knew off by heart.

It didn’t take much for Gareth to run as fast as he could to your house. All you needed to do was croak the words “Eddie was here”, and that was all it took for him to throw down his drumsticks and told his younger sister that he had an emergency he needed to attend to. And Gareth stuck to your side the moment he arrived, offering you a shoulder to continue your crying on and to once again help to pick up the remains of your heart off the wooden floor.

Your bedroom filtered into a comfortable silence with the voice of Joan Jett softly filling in the spaces that the silence left open. The room glowed in the golden hues of the early sunset for the sun graced you with some comfort that this wretched day is soon drawing to an end.

“Are you going to the party this Saturday?”

You snorted at even the mere suggestion that you could function enough to attend such a thing, the thought of painting on a fake plastic smile and pretending that you weren’t seconds away from fading away into the abyss of depression, you could barely do the basics of human survival such as eating and sleeping never mind a party.

“You’re kidding right?”

“Come on Y/N, do you really want to spend your last year in high school saying that you allowed some prick who couldn’t even pass senior year two times to stop you from being a normal teen? Or do you want to say that you went to the wildest parties before you fuck off to some well respected college? And you’ll think ‘I remember that Gareth dude, he was alright too bad I forgot about his stupid ass” Gareth joked, tickling your sides with his fingers forcing you into a fit of laughter, this was the first time you smiled in two weeks. You curled to your side, swatting away his arms to protect yourself from his attack, leaving you scarlet red and out of breath with laughter

“As if I could forget about you” you breathlessly spoke between gasps as you started to get your breath back. “You’re stuck with me forever you asshole”

He smiled at you, drawing his hands away from your sides and held them up in surrender. Just thankful that he made you smile, for he believed that you deserve nothing more than to be happy. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, so is it a yes?”

“Only if you’ll stop attacking me!”

“Of course”

—————————————————————————

You stared at yourself in the mirror, touching at your face drawing back the fleshy part of your cheeks showing the purple bags that had doubled in size, you pressed your lips together trying not to fall back into a million pieces. Trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t a mistake you getting ready tonight.

Staring back at this person you barely recognise anymore, their eyes don’t even look the same anymore, only embers remains telling you that the resident left a long time ago leaving a lifeless hollow in its place. Your eyes became glassy you wanted to scream at yourself for allowing you to leave your bed, as depression convinced you that all you needed to do was crawl into your blanket covered coffin and lie there till it would all be over, as that’s what you deserved! As why would Eddie leave you!

This was definitely a mistake!

Your thoughts was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Are you ready..” Gareth’s words trailed away as he saw you in a state of utter distress. Yes he has seen you at your worse but you looked so lifeless it’s scary

“I’m going to sit this one out Gare” you mumbled barely looking him in the eyes, the faster you could close the door, the faster you could allow yourself to be consumed by the deathly grip depression had on you.

The reality that Eddie has been cheating on you truly hit you like a truck the moment Gareth closed the door. You felt so alone drowning in your tears, feeling so inadequate for Chrissy was so perfect, everything you were not. Maybe Eddie didn’t want to be seen with someone so pathetic as you?

You couldn’t shake this vice like grip depression had on you, it was the reason you hid away. Kept it away from Gareth for you already burdened him once he didn’t deserve it again.

“No you’re fucking not!” He spoke with so much force it shocked you both into silence by his sudden outburst. He let out a sigh and took a second to compose himself, to calm himself down before he spoke again. “ I love you Y/N you’re my best friend, but I can’t stand to see you destroy yourself over someone who isn’t worth shit. I know it hurts but he isn’t worth this, I want one night to become a reckless drunken mess with my best friend, so please come if not for yourself do it for me?” He pleaded his eyes looking into yours becoming more and more glassy as each second went by, he wanted you to see how much your pain was hurting him too.

—————————————————————————

You threw back your third shot while chasing it back down with god knows what was in that punch bowl, it smelt like straight ethanol but at this point you welcomed the burning sensation it left down your throat as it brings the promise of forgetting.

You slumped against the wall gulping back the lethal punch as if it was water, you felt the small buzz of intoxication creeping into your brain like a welcome friend.

Gareth was taken away from you by Jeff, he looked at you as to say ‘I can stay here if you need’, but you laughed saying that he needs to enjoy the last remainder of his high school parties, even though especially now that you wish that he had stayed.

Sighing as you felt like you could actually relax for the first time in two weeks, as your mind melted away into a blur, you finally felt the break up slipping away from your mind, bringing out the smile that you thought you had lost

But like all good things that happen to you it was bound to come to an end

Fuck my life!

Who should walk in? No other than the most sickening couple of Hawkins high.

Eddie walked in with his fingers laced through Chrissy’s, she placed her perfectly glossed lips upon his before she was whisked away by a couple of her cheerleading friends.

You watched as Eddie put his hands in the back of his Jean pockets, his eyes looking around the room, his posture slumped looking far from his usual environment.

Upon his eyes searching the room to find a familiar face he could find, so he wouldn’t have to spend the night alone waiting till his girlfriend became too intoxicated so he had to drive her home. His eyes found yours, you rapidly moved your eyes away from his for it felt like your eyes were on fire, blinking rapidly to douse the flames he caused

Eddie felt a pang of guilt gnawing at his consciousness upon seeing you, actually seeing you, not acting upon cowardice by refusing to look at you like he did during your last encounter. His heart broke as the consequences of his own actions finally hit him and it hit him hard. Fuck did he really do this to you?

You looked gaunt, you looked sickly pale almost unrecognisable from the person he use to love

You felt your anxiety making your heart rate increase in quick successions till it was palpitating. Yep you definitely needed to drown the painful memories of Eddie into too much booze till they became hazy

You down your 2nd drink like it was water cringing at the acrid aftertaste it had, it somehow gotten stronger since your last drink. Pouring yourself another you heard an all too familiar drunken laugh

“Y/N, oh my god!, how are you?” Chrissy smiled as she ran up and hugged you with so much force it caused the drink you were ladling to spill.

“Hey Chris” you forced out with a fake smile, so fake that it took every muscle in your body to hold

“You didn’t answer my question silly” she slightly slurred bopping you on the nose, she fell into a fit of giggles which made you question how much she had to drink, yet again if you were her height it wouldn’t take you a lot to get drunk either.

God it was getting hard to swallow down this anger you were feeling, you knew it wasn’t Chrissy’s fault but if you were faced with the person your ex chose over you, there definitely would be some resentment towards them

“It’s going good, how is your boyfriend?” You didn’t mean for the words that fell off your tongue to be so bitter, but the buzz of alcohol blurred the filter that lay between your brain and your mouth

“It’s going good with me and Eddie?” She puzzled over your sudden standoffish behaviour, yes you rarely spoke but you never had anything against each other either, so why were you being so mean?

The third drink started to slur your thoughts so that very limited filter you had moments before disappeared entirely

“How long have you been dating?”

“3 weeks, why?”

“Well because for the first week of your relationship, I was still dating him!” You spat out chugging back the rest of what was in your solo cup, looking up you saw Chrissy looking back at you with wide eyes and her lips trembling

“What?”

“Eddie cheated on me with you when he got bored with me, so I’d start running now chris if I was you before you waste 6 months on him like I did” tears started to brew at your eyes during your anger fuelled outburst, you couldn’t help but feel some guilt over the words you uttered. For this anger was meant for Eddie not for the strawberry blonde cheerleader in front of you, she did nothing wrong except love the same boy you once did

“Y/N, I’m so sorry” she cried, wiping away the tears that smudged her perfectly winged eyeliner, “I promise you I wouldn’t of dated him if I knew, he told me that you broke up. God I’m such a bitch!”

“Chris-“

But it was too late, she ran off out of the kitchen holding her half full cup of punch , leaving you to realise what you’ve just done.

You and your stupid mouth!

You ran out towards the living room following the teary eyed cheerleader in sight

Shit! Shit! Chrissy please don’t do anything stupid!

“What the fuck!” You heard Eddie shout.

You turned and saw his shirt covered in chrissy’s remaining punch, his eyes furrowed in shock over what just happened

“That’s for telling me you were single when you weren’t, fuck you I thought you weren’t like the rest” she shrieked capturing all the attention from the room, someone even turned down the stereo to direct everyone’s attention to drama about to unfold.

No one could predict what was about to happen next, as her perfectly manicured hand slammed its way across Eddie’s cheek leaving an angry red mark in its place

“We are over!” And with that she stormed away with her crew not following too far behind

You stood in complete shock. 100% Eddie deserved it, in fact you were jealous you didn’t do it first. But also because you didn’t think she could pack such a punch

Your eyes met Gareth who couldn’t hold back his laughter, now you definitely was glad that you were able to be convinced in to coming tonight

—————————————————————————

“I can’t believe she would slap him like that” Gareth howled out clutching his stomach as he recalled last nights events

“I’m sad it wasn’t me who did it” you chuckled wiping away the tear that fell from laughing so hard

“Never say never, I’d pay good money for you to beat the ever living shit out of him”

“At that point Gare I think it might be called a snuff film as there’s no way he’d make it out alive”

You both laughed till your abdomens hurt, you were both on the way back from family video, deciding that watching the exorcist and eating pizza was the only way to soothe your remaining hangovers

“That it might be- HOLY SHIT Y/N-“

The rest of Gareth’s sentence turned into fuzz like the static you got when you were trying to get your tv to connect to a station.

Everything happened in slow motion, you clutched at the wheel trying to stop your car that was rapidly skidding out of control on the black ice you couldn’t see.

The ice throttled you at full speed towards the trees not too far ahead

Your vision started to fade in and out of consciousness, your sight started to fade. You could see the faint outlines of a tree inches away from your face, broken glass from your windscreen glistening with blood in the harsh winters sun, before your world slowly faded to black

—————————————————————————

Gareth sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the hospital waiting room, adding more to the discomfort he felt after being in a car crash. He bit his nails, trying to numb the anxiety that made him feel like he was going to pass out.

No matter how many nurses told him to go home and they’ll call him once they had any more news. But he couldn’t leave especially when his best friend could be dying, the guilt was eating him alive, like his body was caving in. He escaped with a few cuts from the windshield spraying glass shards over his face and a few broken ribs which the doctor told him would heal, while you? He doesn’t know, wishing that it was him in your position as at least then he’d know that you would be alright

He had nothing to distract him, only his own thoughts to plague him for surviving, for not needing the surgery you had to undertake. He hated feeling so useless, there was nothing he could do to reverse what had happened. God he hated this

Oh you got to be fucking kidding right now!

“I’m here to see Y/N L/N” by the reception stood a very worried looking Eddie, his eyes red and glassy. The way his chest moved in quick successions showed that he dropped everything and ran straight here.

The receptionist pointed Eddie in the direction of where Gareth was sat . Eddie gulped as he approached the seats for Gareth was glaring daggers into his skin, piercing his flesh for hurting you and having the audacity to show his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Did you really think that when you phoned Jeff about not making it to rehearsal, that he wouldn’t tell me?”

Eddie sat a few seats away from Gareth and ran his fingers through his hair, he looked distraught as more tears flooded down his face.

“How are they?” He asked looking at Gareth in the eyes, his voice shaking with fear. “Look I know that you hate me, but I still love them-“

“That’s bullshit” Gareth scoffed, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes, he almost wanted to start applauding Eddie for he was putting on quite the show. The tears was truly convincing, Eddie should really consider acting

“No its not-“

“You broke up with them with a pitiful excuse for them to then find out that you’ve been cheating on them, wow Eddie you’re truly living up to the Munson name” Gareth spat, yes it was a low blow to bring up Eddie’s bastard of a farther but right now Gareth was seeing red

“Fuck you!” Eddie growled his nostrils started to flare. Gareth better reign it in otherwise Eddie would have no control over what he may do next

“Why do you care about them now? where were you when they actually needed you? Probably putting your tongue down the throat of Chrissy Cunningham, you’re only showing up now because you want to be seen as this good person. But no Eddie, I know you, you’re full of shit, you’re fucking pathetic”

“Well considering you’re picking out the flaws in everyone, what about you mr perfect? You stay in the background till you disappear, you’re that uninteresting that people couldn’t give less of a shit about you. You had no life so you had to copy my own, you’re a damn carbon copy of myself it’s laughable. Maybe that’s why your dad left you because he was so ashamed of having a low life for a son-“

Eddie’s words was cut short by Gareth’s fist colliding with his nose, Eddie froze momentarily in shock that he didn’t hear the sickening crack, only when he felt blood pouring into his mouth did he register that Gareth had punched him.

Gareth stood glaring at Eddie, his fist still out stretch, his knuckles starting to turn red. Pressing his lips into a thin line as his brain was a fury of blazing flames, he wanted nothing more than in this moment than to make Eddie leave here in a hearse.

Eddie slowly sat back down, his eyes still wide clutching at his blooded nose, what the fuck just happened?

“I’m sorry” he mumbled “that was too far”

Gareth didn’t respond, he turned his back to him. Slowly counting to ten to cool himself down before he did something he’d regret, he thought of you and that you need him here not in the back of a police cell

The atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Both boys froze in utter shock over the events that happened moments prior

“But I did mean what I said earlier” he sighed, his voice breaking with sorrow, he couldn’t lose you not yet. “I still love them, fuck i really love them. I stupidly threw what we had away and I’m paying for that every single day, me and Chris both had the same shared trauma that no one else could understand so we both found comfort in each other, so I stupidly kissed her. Fuck! I hate myself”

Gareth slowly turned around to face him, his facial muscles dropping the tension it was holding earlier. He swallowed thickly

“You realise that is far from an excuse right?”

“Yes I do, I don’t deserve them, I know I don’t, but I could lose them and I can’t live if that happened” Eddie’s voice cracked, the dam that held the full weight of his despair came flooding through, resulting in him curled up in a pool of tears.

Gareth sat next to him, he knew he shouldn’t take pity on him but when you were friends with someone for years, it was hard to let them go that easily.

“We were driving and their car skidded on ice and we were hurled towards these trees, I remember them trying to stop the car but it was too late. Next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital bed and being told that they’re in surgery. I’m sure that they’re going to be fine, you know Y/N they’re as tough as nails” Gareth gently chuckled defusing the tense atmosphere that felt like it was suffocating them both.

“I really fucked it up with them haven’t I?”

“To be honest with you, yes you have”

“I’m sorry Gare I wish this could of all been different, I wish that I hadn’t screwed up, but that’s all I’ve ever done. It’s what I do best, I was a coward and like always I ran away” Eddie croaked wiping away the stray tears on his freckled cheeks.

“Eddie, I don’t know why you’re telling me this, it’s Y/N they’re the one you should be saying this shit to” Gareth took a second to breathe before the atmosphere became heated again, he ran his fingers through his hair trying his hardest not to yell at the brunette boy beside him. “Look I’ll call you if I hear any news, but you’re quite possibly the last person they want to see right now, and if you mean what you said to me right now you’d go home and speak to them when they’re better”

—————————————————————————

You cringed as you adjusted yourself to lay more comfortably on the hospital bed. You couldn’t describe the excruciating pain that flooded over your body, imagine a knife stabbing and twisting all over your body again and again, nothing relieved the agony you were feeling, the cocktail of pain relief you received did jack shit. You couldn’t breathe without your muscles spasming in pain.

The doctors informed you that you were involved in a car crash that left you with a broken leg, several broken ribs and a concussion that you will be kept in over night for them to keep monitoring the severity of it.

This was the last thing you needed right now, well at least the physical pain would help to distract you from the emotional pain

“Hey” you turned to see a very bruised looking Gareth holding one of those crappy bears you could buy at a card shop, that held a heart saying ‘get well soon’ on it.

You smiled at him, just glad you know that he is okay, laughing at the gift he got you. But the laughter further aggravated the stabbing sensation in your ribs, so the smile was soon replaced with a frown.

“You asshole, don’t make me laugh it hurts” your voice raspy from the pain and only just waking up 30 minutes prior.

“Excuse me for bringing my friend some joy over the shit we just went through” he quipped sitting down on the chair next to you, placing the bear on the bedside table. You jokingly rolled your eyes at his comment. “How are you?”

You gave him another glare, what is it with this boy and stupidly obvious questions?

“I know, stupid question”

“Well apart from being in the worst pain imaginable I’m living so I suppose it could be worse

“Even going through near death, they still don’t miss the chance to attack me with their words” he chuckled, he looked at you taking in every part of you, he smiled forever thankful that you survived. “I’m just glad that you’re okay”

“You too Gare, when I woke up I was so scared that something really bad had happened to you. After everything I’ve been through I couldn’t loose you too, I just can’t” your eyes started to well up at even the thought of losing him

“Hey” he cooed wiping away the tear that fell with his thumb, “I’m not going anywhere you’re stuck with me for life”

“What happened to your hand?” You asked with concern upon seeing the grazed flesh on his still red knuckles.

“I punched Eddie”

“What!” You exclaimed looking at Gareth with narrowed eyes, checking if you heard him right

“He came here earlier, I phoned Jeff saying that I wouldn’t make it to band practice tomorrow and he must of told Eddie. I told him to fuck off and that he wasn’t wanted here, he brought up shit about me and my dad so I punched him” he said nonchalantly, like this is something mundane that you would expect to had happen while you were unconscious.

“I’m sorry Gare, but I’m also pissed that I didn’t get to do it first. God Chrissy gets to slap him, you get to punch him, save some of the Eddie abuse to me” you weakly laughed trying not to upset the aching muscles

“Hey no one has killed him yet, you could be the first”

Gareth spent three hours by your side, it should of been two but the nurses took pity on you both, plus the hospital was pretty quiet so having him stay another hour wasn’t hurting anyone. You were pretty sure that they believed you two to be dating but at the sake of having your best friend at your side for another hour, you were more than happy to let them believe whatever they wanted to.

Before he left he told you what Eddie had told him, which left you with the heavy question looming in the air, something for you to over think when you were kept up till the early hours of the morning

What the fuck are you going to say to Eddie?

—————————————————————————-

You were discharged the morning after as all your vitals seemed stable, with no sign of brain damage or memory loss indicating that your concussion was only mild. Leaving the hospital with three different bottles of medication and your right leg tightly wrapped up in bandages.

You spent the next week on bed rest, it felt so tedious. Sure the pain subdued and you could move without feeling like your were being burnt alive, without the sharp pains of your broken ribs pressing into your sides with each breath.

But you felt like you were dying a slow painful death not by any physical pain but the boredom was fucking torture. There’s so many repeats of your favourite tapes you could take before bohemian rhapsody made you want to claw at your ears, the only thing that could distract you and it was hard to admit was homework that Gareth brought you every day. Who would of thought that trigonometry would bring you any form of joy?

You heard a gentle knocking at your doorway, you sat upright smiling at the door in anticipation of Gareth’s arrival, but your sweet mood turned sour very quickly when the person emerged from behind the door.

With a broken leg and doctor’s proscribed bedrest there is no way you can escape him, great!

“Hey” he spoke with nerves making his voice become unsteady, he swallowed thickly and placed a bouquet of red roses beside your bed.

“Hey” you replied coldly staring outside your window, maybe if you pretended that he wasn’t there he’d take the hint and go away?

Eddie looked wounded by your icy reply, it made his stomach drop further. He started to twirl his rings as his anxiety was making him shake, his rehearsed speech he practiced saying to you in his mirror went out of the window leaving a blank space in his mind.

“I’m sorry”

You felt your jaw stiffen, trying not to scream at him simply because you didn’t have the energy to do so, you were having an internal battle. The part of you that still loved him was rising to the surface, telling you that he was saying everything that you wanted to hear but you had to push this part of you down, it made more of your muscles tensed up during this emotional tug of war.

Don’t you dare even look at him right now!

He sighed, his leg bouncing up and down in an attempt to fight back the raging anxiety that flooded through his every nerve.

“I was stupid, I thought that because we went through the same shit that no one else could get, that Chrissy was a better match for me. Which is the worst mistake I made as I lost the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was a fucking coward who hurt the only person I have ever loved, I have spent every day haunted by my regrets, I was jealous of your friendship with Gareth that I yelled at you as I saw someone who was doing all the shit I never did, someone who is caring and loyal and not a lying cheating douche like me. When I found out that you were involved in that car accident my whole world stop because I finally realised that you were my whole world, I know that sounds cheesy as shit but I knew that I couldn’t live without you. I fucked up and I still love you Y/N-“

“Eddie you hurt me, like really fucking hurt me. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat I felt so inadequate compared to her. I mean look at her for Christ sake! Head cheerleader, the golden girl of Hawkins how could I ever compare to that!” Your voice started to break as you choked back your tears that were threatening to spill, “you cheated on me, you through away 6 months without so much as an excuse”

You looked over at Eddie his eyes glistening as he sobbed silently, his cheeks damp with fresh tears.

“I’m really sorry Y/N, I don’t deserve you. I just wanted you to know that I love you and I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting ever letting you go”

“Eddie” you sighed trying your hardest not to cry as he didn’t deserve you wasting another tear on him, you spent weeks morning your relationship and hurting yourself in the process, while he got to live without so much as a single mark. “I do still love you, but I can’t go back to you. I spent weeks crying my heart out while you was with Chrissy, you don’t get to come here now and tell me how much your hurting. I deserve someone who is going to treat me right, who is going to make me a priority and is not going to cheat on me the moment things become hard. I can’t let you in and allow you to hurt me that badly again. There’s a part of me that wishes that this could all be different and we could just drive out to lovers lake like we used to do, but I just can’t do that to myself again. I’m sorry Eddie, but you have to let me go. We could possibly be friends some point in the future but right now I don’t think that we can, well at least not at the moment.

Eddie wiped away his tears, he weakly smiled at you, he was trying his hardest not to beg you till he was red in the face for you to take him back. Because he knows that you deserve someone better than him as much as it pains him to admit

“Look after yourself okay?”

“You too Eddie”

When he closed your door you finally allowed those tears to fall.

—————————————————————————-

“What did you say?”

“I told him that I still loved him, which unfortunately is still true, but I couldn’t go back to him not after how badly he hurt me”

“Are you going to be-“

“I swear to god Gareth Emerson if you ask me if I’m going to be okay I’ll literally punch you so hard in the jaw that you won’t be able to ask me that again” you threatened jokingly throwing a pillow at his face

“Ow! Jesus Christ, I can’t even be a supportive friend these days” he rolled his eyes throwing the pillow back in your direction.

“You know that you don’t have to visit everyday right?”

“Are you sick of me already” he jokingly asked with his hand clutched to his chest dramatically, which caused you to snort at his theatrical response

“I mean don’t you have better things to do than to look after me?”

“You know that I don’t” he quipped making you roll your eyes at the way he can turn a sweet moment into a joke in a matter of seconds.

“I love you Gare”

“Love you too Y/N”

——————————————————————————

You unwrapped the candy bar Gareth had brought you, as before he called, he stopped to buy your favourite snacks. While you were listening to the mix tape he made you after you complained that Queen was giving you a migraine from hearing it on repeat non stop.

You stared at the bear he brought you, laughing silently at the memory from the hospital,

He couldn’t hide his distaste for you naming the bear con short for concussion, which at the time you found hilarious but that was when you were high on the 7 different drugs the hospital gave you, so that was the pitiful excuse for the awful joke made.

The guitar riff of ‘I was made for lovin’ you’ started to kick in, echoing across your walls the voice of Gene Simmons singing ‘I can’t get enough of you darling, can you get enough of me?’ it made you realise something-

Oh fuck! You were in love with Gareth!

No, surely not! Right?

He was your best friend, he was the one right by your side no matter what, he stayed over night the night Eddie broke up with you to make sure were okay, he was the one you could always confine in, he would make you smile till your cheeks ached, and he came over every day to check up on you- shit!

You didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, cry or all of the above. What an overused romantic trope , falling in love with your best friend. You couldn’t be anymore predictable if you tried.

You didn’t know what to do with this emotional revelation, push it down in hopes that the feeling melts away in the pit of your stomach acid? Hoping that you don’t regurgitate the awkward feelings to Gareth then he tells you that he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll enter this bottomless pit of depression unable to climb your way out of it, till you have to move state.

The anxiety was muddling your thoughts till they became a string of nonsense, convincing you that the world was going to end for feeling this way. Maybe the best way is to avoid these feelings and hope that they fade away, like this was a phase you were feeling because you were lonely and longing for the comfort a relationship brought you.

That was the only logical thing to do, right?

—————————————————————————-

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, nothing��� why do you ask?” You laughed nervously, internally cringing that you couldn’t lie for shit especially in front of Gareth. If you could keep Gareth distracted for long enough surely he’ll forget why you’re acting so strange. Was the room suddenly increasing in temperature? and was the walls always so closed in?

Gareth looked at you with a furrowed brow, looking at you side eyed. He was far from convinced at your poorly executed way of hiding the nerves that tied your stomach into knots and your brain racing at top speed.

“Yeah, ‘cause that was believable. You haven’t spoken to me since I arrived and you keep on chewing at your lip that it’s now bleeding and you keep on tapping your hand to your thigh. So don’t bullshit me Y/N what’s wrong?”

“It’s just that I have a lot on my mind” you spoke in such a fast pace that you doubt that he had even registered a single word that you just said. For when you were nervous, the nerves force your words out as soon as they popped into your brain, needing to fill the silence and not caring about how coherent your sentences sounded

“Did you say yes to Eddie?”

This was only the logical explanation Gareth could conjure up, for you always told him everything. He saw you at your worse, he even had to hold your hair back as you vomited from smoking weed for the first time when you believed that your limit was higher than it truly was.

“God no!”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing-“

“Just tell me-“

“I’m in love with you damn it!”

The silence that followed was deafening, it felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs making it hard to breathe. You felt sick, praying to whatever was above to strike you down so you don’t have to exist in this reality anymore. Burying your face in your hands feeling your cheeks burn as you were drowning in your own embarrassment, you’ve dug a hole so big you can’t escape from.

Do you ever think before opening your mouth!

“Y/N?”

“Gareth don’t!” You snapped not wanting him to talk further as you knew what was about to happen next, and you think you’d rather die than to hear Gareth list off the reasons why he didn’t like you back. “Just leave, I shouldn’t of said anything”

“I love you too”

You lifted your head out of your hands, blinking rapidly did you hear him properly?

“What?”

“Why else did you think I put ‘I was made for lovin you’ on your mix tape?”

“God you’re such a sap” you laughed out loud, letting relief wash over you. Your heart started to race as you couldn’t stop blushing like an idiot.

“Yeah but you love it clearly” he smirked, he leant into his impulse, the thing that he has been craving to do for weeks.

He pressed his lips upon yours, it was a sweet gentle kiss. It felt perfect, all the longing and pining over people who treated you like shit melted away into the background for now you know what their kisses was supposed to feel like. This felt right like your life was leading up to this moment.

You use to roll your eyes at poets and romantic films as they made you nauseous, selling love to be this grand beautiful thing something that would change your world for the better. But it’s hard to believe that when love had left you with so many knives in your back, you started to wonder that love was an illusion something made up, so they can sell valentines cards. But now you know what people meant when they spoke about love, for once in your life you finally found someone who truly loves you and you truly love them back.

A/N: I hope that you liked it, I was going to be mean and put it in three parts but I couldn’t do that to you. Some people may not like that they ended up with Gareth but it made so much sense, I’ve been on a Gareth obsession lately and Gwydion has a hold on me lately, could be because I’m Welsh and he has the most Welsh name ever. I’ve got more fics on the way, this was my first and definitely not my last gender neutral fanfic :)

Tag list:

@sebastiansstanswhore @protecteddiemunson4vr @simp4rengoku @hllfrclb

#stranger things angst #stranger things eddie #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth the great #gareth emerson x reader

[marshmallowprotection]

It would be nice to lay down (maybe on Saeyoung's side of the bed) while wearing his jacket, then hug a pillow while thinking of good things and only good things right now

Saeyoung is guilty when it comes to poor sleeping habits. He spends a lot of time out of bed when he should be in it. That's a part of what you contend with daily as he learns how to cohabitate. He's not used to being around someone like this... his first taste was when you were in the apartment together, and then on the run... he didn't have time to adopt better ways to take care of himself.

He had your arm on his shoulders reminding him when to stop and breathe.

Of course, it's not your job to baby him like that. He knows how to take care of himself even though he's still a work in progress. That's what Vanderwood would say is the "nice way" of describing him as a person. Old habits die hard, and when he can't sleep, he likes to keep his hands as busy as humanly possible. That means going to his desk to tinker with whatever concept he wrote on paper at 3AM.

To his credit, he always amazes you. You just wish he would get some more sleep... or at least, lay in bed until his brain carries him away to somewhere more comfortable than his desk. But, as many gripes as you might have with that, being with Saeyoung is perfect. You love to be with him as much as you can, and he loves to be with you as much as he can manage when he's not piecing together his next job.

Life is better than it ever was.

That's what he told you when you bickered with him over the meal he made earlier that day. He loved being able to have a normal moment where he felt like an average man. You, scolding him because he had to eat more greens, and him, laughing because you always make the cutest face when you're annoyed. Those moments are what he could only dream of before he met you.

The fact that you could give him that...

Well, you certainly forgot about being annoyed with him when his cheesy grin stole your heart for the seventh time.

With a dreamy sigh, you rolled over in your shared bed, relishing in the faint smell of cinnamon and honey that never left his jacket. It was yours until the scent faded, of course. He might've been trying another scheme to add parts to Meowy in the other room, but you didn't miss him.

He was right there with you whether you saw him or not. That was the beauty of your love. Together or apart, your heart remained just as connected as the constellations in the sky.

Even if he was only one wall away, he knew you were awake. "...Hey, honey, do you think Meowy needs Moon Shoes?"

"The commercial said 'Kid-Powered Anti-Gravity Shoes', Saeyoung. Not 'Cat-Powered Anti-Gravity Boots'."

"You're right! I'm so dumb! There's a better option and it's been right in front of me this entire time! Meowy needs Rocket Launchers to speed around!"

"...Just don't wake up Saeran in the other room before you come to bed, okay?"

#anon #ask #mystic messenger #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #luciel choi #choi luciel #seven #707 #seven mm #seven mysme #seven mystic messenger #mystic messenger seven #mm seven #mysme seven #drabble

[moonm3l0n]

An unexpected encounter (pt. 2)

Contains: burping, belching, making out, seggsy time

She took him back to the car, but they didn’t stop there. They went on an adventure.

Third Limited, Evereste

As she led him to the car, Evereste instructed Sam to keep rubbing his belly until they got to the car. Then she would take over.

“Keep going until we get the car, my good little burp slut. Then I’ll do it.”

He politely agreed, interrupted by an airy burp in the middle of his sentence.

“Yes miss, of coooooourse.”

And so they went to the car, him allowing small burps and belches to flow freely.

As soon as they got to the car, Evereste pushed Sam against it and started kissing him, a rough, deep, passionate kiss, while her hands strayed downwards to massage his less swollen stomach. A belch erupted in her mouth and Sam tried to pull away, embarrassed.

“Haven’t you noticed-“ she gently bit his bottom lip- “that I like them? Stop being so embarrassed and do it again. My panties are dripping.”

His eyes got wide before he closed them again, a moan fading into a burp in her mouth. She ground hard against him, teasing his dick and his stomach. She felt the gas bubble up in his stomach and pulled away the slightest bit.

He belched deeply, right in her face. She inhaled, smelling the delicious food he’d eaten. Then, smiling, she opened his door.

“Get in my belching bitch, we’re going shopping for supplies.” And with that, she headed around to her side of the car and got in, before starting it up and pulling out.

At the store

She turned the car off and put it in park.

“What do you like to eat?” Evereste asked him.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, poking his no longer stuffed gut. “What do you like to eat? I could just get some shit you don’t like, but that wouldn’t be very fucking fun, now would it? So. What do you like to eat?” She questioned again.

Then he gave her a long list of things, mostly deserts, and she wrote everything down. Then she got out and instructed him to stay in the car, leaving the key i case he wanted AC or music.

She went all over the store, grabbing ice cream, donuts, cake, pizza, microwave dinners, rolls with cinnamon butter, churros, yogurt, Pepsi, coke, Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew and more.

She walked as calmly as she could in the store, which was practically running. She got everything on the list and more.

Evereste shivered in delight at the idea of stuffing all this food down his eagerly awaiting mouth and throat. At his pace of course, she wasn’t cruel. She just wanted to see his yummy little stomach swell up so she could coax out some belches and burps, and hopefully a few more of his sweet little hiccups, that seemed to come in fits and shook his gorgeous tummy.

She smiled devilishly and checked out. $350.76 was her total. “Good thing I got groceries while I was here.” She took the overflowing cart to the car and starting shoving them in the trunk, grabbing a 2-liter of Sprite out of one of the bags. She put the cart away and got into the car.

“What’s that?” Sam asked, looking hungrily at the 2-liter. She smiled innocently.

“Just a little drink I got you for the ride home.” She said, knowing exactly which route she was taking home.

#burping #burp fic #eructo #eructophilia 🥵 #no emeto #emeto phobic safe #emetophibic safe

[indian-kahani]

I wrote a thing:

Tell me how it is! It's not for the LGBT fest or anything (ikr shocking) but any feedback would be great!

Once, long ago, in a land long forgotten, there was a princess. She was the pride of her city – her parents loved her, her friends laughed with her, and her people adored her from the bottom of their hearts.

Perhaps, some would say, it was her beauty they all loved. Her smooth skin, the colour of the most expensive cinnamon the traders could buy from neighboring cities. Her hair, deep, silky black as if stained with the finest scholars’ ink, ink made from a hundred different pastes and pigments, blacker than the night sky in the middle of the desert. Her almond-shaped eyes, always lit with joy or mischief or a wise, graceful smile that drew faint crow’s feet in the corners, wisdom that came from love and kindness and experience. Perhaps, it was her fine clothes – edged with gold, embroidered with delicate peacocks and blooming flowers and nature in the midst of spring, rich mulberry, shocking green, sunset yellows and reds and faded oranges – set against her glowing skin and beautiful jewellery, even as she moved it was as if a shimmering world of silken thread moved with her.

Of course not. A wiser one would say, chuckling slowly at the ignorance of his fellow citizen. It’s not just her beauty I love. It’s her character. And indeed, he too spoke nothing but the truth. When the princess smiled, it was a true smile – with hints of fun, and youth, and a life being lived to the full. When she laughed, it was even more real – a laugh like that moment would never come again. She laughed as if she would never laugh again for the rest of her life, living in a whirlwind of passion and light. She spoke with an animated seriousness, treating each second that she was trusted with importance as just that – a trust, one that she had to repay, not a mindless job that could be half-done or passed off to a more-than-willing advisor. She worked night and day, already taking on so many of the responsibilities delegated to the king and queen – tours, inspections, interviews, recruitments, you name it, she had done it. Sometimes, there was the occasional photo of her, exhausted, leaning against the wall or sitting on a garden bench. Her people loved her all the more for it. Whatever she did, they loved her – because she did it with their best interests at heart.

All her little quirks were smiled upon and blessed and occasionally, laughed over. An infamous poet, as often as not it was her fingers, and not her hair, that were stained with the finest scholars’ ink. An intelligent girl, they would say, may god bless her. Her embroidery could rival the palace dressmakers themselves, shimmering thread creating shifting scenes in cloth. Threads, clinging onto her dress, laughed over in the corners of the kingdom, laughter received with a small half-embarassed giggle from the princess as she dusted down her clothes. A good girl, that one, they smiled, it’s good that she has fun while she still can. Everything she did, the people smiled upon her, for it was impossible to do anything else. The princess beautified everything she touched – coaxing music out of even the most worn-down flute, finding a rhythm in the simplest of drums, crafted by a child learning his trade, finding the joy of dance in the bleakest silence. Everything she does, she does it perfectly, they said with love and a hint of an envious sigh.

And as the inky-fingered, thread-covered princess grew up, she lost much that she had once loved. When she became a queen, she lost the freedom she enjoyed so much as a child, lost the time she’d once had to sew beauty into the very fibers of her life, but still: her skin was smooth and dark, her hair was inky black, she wrote her poetry and crafted her music - and still the queen was a happy woman.

For she had all the love of everyone in her kingdom, and their blessings shone down on her like the sun.

I feel like it's a bit long-winded, but idk. Yeah, basically tell me what you think :D

I wrote it a while ago when I was a bit annoyed at the lack of portrayals of Indian princesses/royalty in fiction, I just found it in my drafts now and thought well why not post it lol

#avani writes #indian kahani #indian-kahani #desi #time up #desi teen #princess #princesses? idek at this point #avani writes stupid stuff #avani simps for indian traditional clothing #far away lands #indian princesses #indian royalty

[petruchio]

Twenty Questions: Fic Author Edition

@caesarflickermans tagged me to do this a little while ago and i'm procrastinating doing some actual writing so here goes

1-How many works do you have on ao3?

ten

2-What's your total AO3 word count?

105,385

3-What fandoms do you write for?

hunger games always! and i wrote a few pjo fics last summer

4-What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon

the birds were singing of you

flowers never bend with the rainfall

under the blossom that hangs on the bough

simple song

5-Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to! sometimes i get overwhelmed when a comment is too nice and i want to give it a thoughtful answer and then i procrastinate answering because i don't feel like i have the energy to be thoughtful enough to show how honestly genuinely grateful i am that someone left the comment and then it spirals and i just never reply lol. but i try to at least say thank you to most people because it really does mean so much to me when people comment on my work

6-What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i am a happy ending girlie at the end of the day but probably flowers because like, things are not going to get better in that au

7-What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably simple song because it is just pure self indulgent romance. but maybe my post mj fic too because we know what happens next and it is happy

8-Do you get hate on fics?

hate is a strong word but one time i did write that one short post mj fic and people responded by being like "i don't like this" and i was like ... okay haha. oh and one time someone bookmarked my pjo fic and said it could've been better written but the idea was good and i was like meh i'll take it. (i was actually super offended at the time and i was like fully prepared to delete my entire archive over the comment but im over it now lol.)

9-Do you write smut? If so what kind?

no. i try to kind of fade to black or allude to sex because i do feel like it sometimes has relevancy to the plot but i don't really have an interest in writing it in detail

10-Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

no

11-Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

12-Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13-Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no

14-What's your all-time favorite ship?

katniss/peeta

15-What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

ugh my district 4 au. i have it outlined in such excruciating detail and i have so many scenes that i think would be so fun to write but i just cannot get the beginning to gel and i don't think it ever will

16-What are your writing strengths?

i'm not sure whether to interpret the question as what i think is good *in my writing* or what my strengths are in my process, so i guess i'll try to do both!! i think style-wise i do a nice job of trying to weave the thematic/symbolic threads in my stories together so that they conclude in a way that makes sense from the outset, and i think i have some nice moments of descriptive writing. as far as process, i think i write relatively strong first drafts which definitely makes the editing process more enjoyable

17-What are your writing weaknesses?

style-wise i think i can write some real clunky dialogue (who among us, lol) and i don't always get my pacing right. i also think i have a tendency to repeat certain words or sentence structures too much and i often will skip over things when i am not interested in them and then not edit enough to notice where the story is dragging vs where i'm skipping things. process-wise, i can be slow to think of an initial concept and then when i do have an idea i sometimes get more invested in the outline and the general plot and then i can get very easily bored if the actual writing isn't fun or it's taking a while to get to the scenes i want to write.

18-Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i don't speak any other language with an appropriate degree of fluency so i wouldn't, but i don't think it would really come up in any of my projects

19-First fandom you wrote for?

percy jackson <3 my iconic ff.net era

20-Favorite fic you've ever written?

under the blossom that hangs on the bough. it does pretty much everything i set out for it to do and i'm very proud of it. there's a couple lines i would change just because i think i wrote them kind of clunky and awkward but overall i think it's probably my best work.

i'll tag @districtunrest @rosegardeninwinter

#caroline speaks #tagged

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

20 Questions Game for Fic Writers!

I feel like I've done this before, but like...definitely before a MASSIVE amount of my fics were released post-fest, so thanks to the amazing @ssmtskw tagging me, I'm gonna do it all over again!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

52 total!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

128,450 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, only RWRB. In the past, I've written some for Once Upon a Time.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ghosts

Volume Control

Retaliation

Do we still have forever?

Modification to the map of you

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always! I live by comments, so I will always show my appreciation for every single one.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I suffer from this syndrome that only allows me to write happy endings, so the angstiest ending I've written still brings with it some hope. It's Darkest before the dawn.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think one of my newer fics, No fear, no fences, nobody - no reins has a pretty lovely ending. Lots of hope for a pretty blissful future.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet. Still waiting on my first hate comment. I'd love for it to never come, but you know how fandom can be.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Before FirstPrince, I wrote a lot of fade to black. Now, I dive right into wherever the story and the characters lead. The fic listed in answer #7 is probably the smuttiest I've ventured so far.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I haven't yet but I'd be open to!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, not yet.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not so far, but a couple are in the works!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

FirstPrince.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I once had a super neat idea for a Captain Swan kid fic, but I don't see myself ever finishing that one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Henry's POV apparently haha. I'm just gonna spend the rest of my existence writing everything from Henry's point of view, and I'll be fine.

But honestly, as much as I never realized it, I think the dialogue is one of my major strengths. It took a friend @oneofthewednesdays complimenting me on my dialogue as well as hearing a podfic of one of my works to convince me that the dialogue I write feels pretty genuine and authentic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing anything except one shots lol. I'm working on something now that might become my first real multichapter fic that isn't cowritten, and I'm really excited, but also terrified that I won't finish it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done this! And I've received a ton of positive feedback from native speakers that I did it justice, which made me feel so good.

19. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Pirates of the Caribbean.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh gosh. It's like asking me to choose my favorite child. But as many fics as I've written in the months since joining the RWRB fandom and as immensely proud of them as I am, my heart keeps coming back to quite possibly the best line I've ever written.

“Fuck,” is all that he can say, but even that tastes of Alex, of top shelf whiskey and the cinnamon he always adds to his coffee. Alex had spoken the word into Henry’s mouth on countless occasions, so he was all-too-familiar with the way it slipped off of his tongue so smoothly, as if the letters themselves were forged together just for him by some foul-mouthed god who knew the damage such a word might wreak in the possession of someone as fearless as Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

And this line lives in a little post lake house fic, the second fic I ever published in the RWRB fandom, called What If I Do?

Uncertain who's already done this, so I'm gonna leave this as an open tag for anyone who sees it and wants to share their incredible writing background with the world!

#20 questions for fic writers #writing stuff #my writing #my fics

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 20🥃

Hey, so, uh... remember Day 8💋 and Day 9🍑? The Smoke/Mute PWP? Because I sure did. And I wrote a sequel, I just couldn't leave it at that and neither could they :) This is just the first part, second and last part and Smoke coming tomorrow! (Smoke/Mute, Rating E, explicit + emotional hurt, ~5.4k words)

(Also, I feel like I should tag you, @cerosin, because I "forgot" to mention there was a sequel back when I sent you the first fic - so, surprise? 😁)

.

Their eyes meet right after Smoke finds his footing following a dramatic combat roll to escape the exploding building. He’s carrying the bit of intel they so desperately need in form of a USB stick, and Sledge is elated when he hands it over – the mission was a success, there were no casualties on their side and Mute is staring at him like a hungry wolf at its prey. Oh yeah, they’re gonna do this.

“We’ll analyse this immediately”, Sledge tells them, ignorant of the sparks flying between his two friends, the raw animal magnetism, “are you coming with us?”

“You go ahead”, mutters Mute, not taking his dark eyes off of Smoke. “And don’t wait up.”

A minute later, Smoke’s back smashes against the remnants of a wall caught in the explosion, a wild beast tearing at his clothes and trying to suffocate him. Mute is ravenous, urgency guiding his movements as he undresses his lover and the same impatience makes them skip any foreplay: Smoke is ready, already open and wet and bends over at the insistent shove, pressing his cheek against debris and moaning into the dust cloud surrounding them when Mute pushes inside, deep and even deeper, stretching Smoke to his limit.

The feeling is wonderful and though they usually take their time, Smoke relishes this just as much, the hard thrusts, the heady pleasure, the sensation of warm palms keeping him in place. He could do this for hours, for as long as Mute wants to, and he knows if he keeps this up until his legs give in and then comes, it’ll be the sweetest -

His phone is ringing.

That’s what that sound is, piercing through the residual smoke and the victorious rush following the mission and the ecstasy of sleeping with the man he loves, sobering him up unpleasantly. Dragging him back to reality.

Right.

Smoke opens his eyes to the sight of his bedroom illuminated in mood lighting, wondering why he even bothered. He took a long bath, lit a scented candle (cinnamon is his favourite) and took his time doing some ‘self care’ but if he gets rudely interrupted like this, it’ll all be for nothing. He’s out of it now, the memory of a scene which never happened fading fast and with it the euphoria, leaving behind an uncomfortable embarrassment burning low in his gut. He knows what he’s doing is messed up. Isn’t it enough that he faces the shame afterwards, now he’s also gotta repent during?

When the song keeps playing for a while longer, he figures it’s urgent enough that he might as well take it. The night is ruined, it can’t get much worse, so he’s got nothing to lose. He stretches to reach his phone and the toy inside him shifts, pressing against all the right spots so he lets out a quiet whimper. Man, what a shame – he had it all figured out, the scene was so realistic and could’ve been so, so good. He should keep it in mind for next time. Maybe.

Unless he won’t be able to fend off the epiphany anymore that wanking to one of his co-workers who clearly rejected him is a recipe for unhappiness at best and disaster at worst.

“Hey mate”, Bandit’s voice booms out of the speaker once Smoke picks up the call. He sounds at the very least tipsy, if not wholly intoxicated. “You busy?”

Smoke glances at his flagging boner. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

“Can you come get me? I came by bike but… nuh uh. Too drunk. I’ll save some of the whisky for you.”

How is there nobody else for him to call? To be fair, Blitz is out of the country and Jäger drives like he flies helicopters, which is to say like a madman, and IQ won’t take any of his bollocks anymore, so alright. Yeah, maybe Smoke is the only one he can call. “I guess. Ask how expensive the bottle was though, I don’t drink anything below 30 quid.”

“Snob. I’ll send you a Google maps thing. Bye, love you!”

And with that, he’s gone. Smoke heaves a sigh and winces as he pulls the phallic object out of himself, feeling much too empty as a result. Fitting, really.

Only throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants which need to go in the wash anyway, he grabs his phone and keys and taps the location Bandit sent him to start the navigation. Maybe not all is lost and he can finish what he started upon his return, but he’s not hopeful – a pissed Bandit is a hilarious Bandit and though he’ll leave Smoke in a better mood than before, he certainly won’t rekindle his libido.

Distracted with thoughts about what to do with the rest of the night, he drives through familiar streets, turning familiar corners until everything becomes a little too familiar. About one turn away from his destination is when it finally hits him.

He’s heading directly to Mute’s flat.

The dread settles at the bottom of his stomach like a too-heavy dinner, poisoning his mind with a myriad of painful memories and even more painful possible outcomes to this encounter, and all of it is making Smoke’s fingers shake. He finds a parking space opposite the building yet is unable to exit his car, not when he might have to face him, not with his heart pounding like this.

You still work together, he reminds himself sternly, you see each other almost every day. This won’t be any different. You go up there and tell him you’re picking up Dom, and that’s that. No more interaction necessary. He won’t make it awkward if you won’t.

But what if Mute just shuts the door when he sees him?

What if he turns and leaves, refusing to speak to him altogether?

What if Mute yells at him to leave him alone, that he doesn’t want him and never wanted him and Smoke is a fucking creep and how dare he do what he did and it was the worst moment of Mute’s life he’s never felt so violated and he keeps having nightmares, jumping whenever anyone touches him and -

Good heavens.

Smoke rubs his temples and tries to get the spiral under control before he has a full blown anxiety attack opposite Mute’s house. None of the above will happen. The end result is usually somewhere between the worst and the best thing that could happen (and good God, Smoke can’t even imagine the best thing happening because it’s so agonising to entertain the idea), so it’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Mute is fine.

Maybe he won’t even answer the door. Yeah, that’s a heartening thought – maybe Bandit is already dressed and waiting for him, said his goodbyes and Smoke won’t have to look at Mute for even just a second and he’ll drive Bandit home and then he’ll spend the rest of the evening sobbing into his pillow and whoops, there he goes, back to the dark place. That was fast.

Mute just won’t answer, because that’s the easiest option, and Smoke will be fine. He’s only been here a couple of times anyway, once to pick up the TV Ela wanted and Mute didn’t need anymore, once for Mute’s birthday. Once when Mute needed help carrying some decommissioned equipment home and Smoke stayed much longer than planned because they played around with it instead of unpacking properly and then Mute ordered food for them and they watched the beginning of a horrendous horror film while eating and then ended up watching the whole thing, and Smoke went home much too late that evening but felt like he was floating and looked at Mute differently from then -

Deep breaths.

Dom must be getting impatient. He should go.

The sound of him slamming his own car door shut startles him, as if he needed a reminder about his current mental state. He crosses the street, practising smooth one-liners with which to greet Bandit to convince him absolutely everything is fine, and breezily jogs up the stairs to the first floor. Bandit will answer, maybe Smoke will stick his head in to greet some of the others (because he heard party noises on the phone, so there’s clearly something going on, and no he isn’t obsessing about why he wasn’t invited), and then they’ll leave and it will all be alright. Maybe Mute will be in the bathroom. Or he’s too busy doing whatever to pay any attention to him.

Smoke knocks with a fake air of confidence, putting on a smile and straightening his clothes.

Mute opens the door.

He looks fucking gorgeous.

And Smoke feels his smile flicker.

.

How long has it been? How long since the fateful encounter which drove them apart?

When he tries to, he can recall every second of it, every noise, every small gesture, every gaze between them. These days, he doesn’t try anymore and yet the memories keep flooding his mind at the most inopportune moment – in the presence of others, in public, during a conversation, doesn’t matter, he’ll be minding his own business and spot an advertisement showing a bit of skin and bam he’s back with Mute’s cock down his throat trying desperately not to cum.

And Mute just -

Instead of turning him down, he simply stopped turning up.

Fucking coward.

Like Smoke can’t guess what’s going on when people start acting odd around him, side-eyeing him and asking in private whether there’s something wrong between him and his former best friend. Like he doesn’t know Mute flees as soon as he shows up, disappears around a corner, forgot about a meeting, needs to go right this moment. Like Mute isn’t telegraphing it loud and clear by not telegraphing anything, by ignoring texts, by forcing conversation when they have to, by quietly requesting to be assigned to a different team.

And that one stung. The other events hurt, sure, left a low ache where Smoke’s heart used to be, but knowing the very person he trusted so much, adored so much, loved so much – that this man couldn’t stand sharing any kind of space with Smoke? It left a mark. Because it might mean one of them has to leave Rainbow, and then they won’t see each other at all anymore, and Smoke knows how much being a part of the team meant to the both of them. How proud they are to have made it.

But what smoulders beneath it all is blinding, deafening, muting shame.

Because Smoke knows he overstepped a line. Took advantage of Mute’s vulnerability. Acted selfishly. No assurance of consent was going to be enough, not when the other man was in such a state, and instead of showing compassion and responsibility, Smoke took what he wanted and deluded himself into thinking it was mutual.

Well. Mute’s behaviour made it abundantly clear that the opposite was true.

He’s had terrible nights imagining Mute lie awake as well, remembering being touched against his will and wondering how to go on with his life.

And despite all this, despite any leftover rationality in Smoke screaming at him to apologise, to attempt to make amends, to talk it through with somebody, despite it all he can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop seeing Mute that way, flushed and sweaty and insatiable. He chooses him to star in his fantasies. Which makes the whole situation so much worse.

.

So yes, when Smoke stares at the object of his most shameful desires, he’s utterly tongue-tied – he won’t be able to express any of his inner turmoil in words nor will Mute be willing to hear it, so it’s best to just … ignore him. Acknowledge him with a non-committal greeting, enter his flat, grab Bandit, drag him outside and cry himself to sleep later, aaand he’s back to feeling sorry for himself. Because his best friend abandoned him. After he committed a heinous breach of trust.

This is not the most productive use of his time.

They’re still staring at each other, unmoving, seconds later. Mute has certainly been partying, his cheeks are reddened and his ears are following suit, the comfortable dark grey t-shirt looks rumpled and he’s barefoot. His expression is unreadable in the low light. He’s not letting go of the door.

“I’m here to pick up Dom”, Smoke eventually explains himself, to which Mute steps aside to let him in. This probably means he won’t fetch the German by himself, so Smoke takes it as an invitation to explore the flat – he passes the kitchen where glasses are piled up, and steps into an empty living room. It’s not a large apartment but Mute valued comfort over style and has crammed enough sofas and armchairs in that it easily houses a medium-sized get-together. Except all signs point to the very same having finished already: there’s no one here.

“He left with Seamus”, Mute speaks up behind him and his voice makes it suddenly apparent that he’s been drinking too, and not a small amount. He’s swaying slightly, blinking often, his tongue seems heavy. “Maestro picked them up. A few minutes ago.”

Well, that explains it. Smoke huffs in annoyance and is keenly aware of Mute blocking the only exit – rather, he’s standing in the doorway, looking as lost as Smoke feels. This is unbearably awkward. He feels like an absolute bellend.

“I think he set something aside for you. There’s a bottle in the kitchen.”

Oh, a win-win: Smoke won’t have to listen to Bandit’s drunken gibberish yet reaps the reward anyway. Focusing very hard on not paying Mute too much attention, he squeezes past him (and good god, the one half-shared breath has his heart skip a beat) to get to the dimly-lit neighbouring room, wondering when it became normal for the people around him to host a party without extending an invitation. It hasn’t happened often, but it has, though he remembers attending a few events with Mute conspicuously missing. Maybe they didn’t want to pick sides and chose each of them equally. What a cop-out.

His scalp is prickling and he realises how tense he is just from being in Mute’s private space. He should leave as soon as possible, though it’s likely the damage has been done; alcohol is a downer and painful memories tend to exacerbate a bad mood (for which Smoke is responsible, and he knows it). Picturing Mute fighting off demons on his own at night makes his heart ache, so he might have to say something. Advise against loneliness.

And he would know.

The bottle is labelled Tobermory, a brand with which he’s not familiar, and more than half empty. He’ll just grab it and leave, drive home and do the very thing he’s about to tell Mute not to do: drink alone. Maybe. Whatever lifts this crushing weight from his chest.

As he turns around, Mute is behind him again, staring with an uncomfortable intensity – does he feel so unsafe that he has to follow Smoke around his flat? Has it gotten that bad? His arms hang uselessly by his sides, fingertips fiddling with a loose thread sticking out of his jeans. He looks like he wants to say something.

And dear lord, there is so much at the tip of Smoke’s tongue. Above all, an apology, followed by a despairing plea to go back to a semblance of what they were, of needing to be a part of this beautiful young genius’ life; he’d beg for forgiveness if it meant Mute would be able to look at him again, exchange more than tactical communication during missions, not react with sudden panic when he tries to talk to him anymore. He knows he’s not owed any of it, far from it, but it doesn’t stop the excruciating longing inside him. To see him smile again. To just sit next to him in peace.

“James”, says Mute, calmly, with next to no slurring. And hearing his name uttered from this mouth almost causes him to tear up.

This is not the moment. Mute is tipsy at best, vulnerable and unguarded, and Smoke will not take advantage of him again. They can talk another time. Even then, worry and concern take over, take control of his tongue and voice some of his thoughts. “You shouldn’t be alone today”, he mutters. “Don’t spend the night by yourself.”

Mute’s expression shifts, he briefly looks taken aback and Smoke wants to smack himself – as soon as the words pass his lips, he realises how they must come across. Why does he keep making everything worse, always? As he scrambles to come up with an appropriate explanation, Mute takes a step forward. He didn’t take it the wrong way, did he? Then again, if Smoke ends up being smashed against the counter for his dumb mouth, he’d deserve it. And hey, if it makes Mute feel better, he’d gladly -

He’s really close now.

Close enough for Smoke to smell him and this is bad. Lowering his gaze does nothing to help, it gets caught on slightly parted lips, on the strong jawline, the exposed neck. The bit of collarbone peeking out. On the heartbeat visible through his shirt. Why is it so fast? Is he -

When Mute leans down, time stops. The world ceases to be. And then Mute kisses him. Just a bit, briefly, no more than a second, but their lips touch and Mute’s breath is on his skin and then it’s over again.

Smoke stares at him, thunderstruck. He – what just happened. Why did he – is this for real.

What even is going on.

Mute does it again, longer this time and Smoke’s body is catching up faster than his mind because he feels his still-loose hole twitch in completely inappropriate anticipation, and his dick is taking an interest in this sudden turn of events as well, and he wishes he could just shut off certain bodily functions. Because this isn’t right, he needs to tell Mute no instead of returning this heavenly, sweet kiss, needs to extract himself from this situation entirely instead of tilting his head like so, needs to stop this … fluttering sensation. Mute smells heavenly, his lips are as soft as ever, gently insistent. It feels so good. Better than any memory or fantasy.

???, goes his brain, not even able to form coherent thoughts as his former friend interrupts the slow kisses to lean back and look down at him with a mix of curiosity and something tantalising, something dark. This is wrong. They can’t do this, he can’t do this, not without clearing the air first, having a proper sit down and talk. Yeah. He should tell him. He needs to tell him they have to cease right this instance. He plucks up the courage to open his mouth and say something, and what comes out is a breathy, pleading, pitiful: “… babe.”

Mute grabs him by the shirt and slams him against the kitchen counter – fulfilling Smoke’s prophecy in a very different way – before crushing their mouths together once more, stifling the embarrassing moan to escape Smoke’s throat at the gesture. He’s half hard now, wrapping his arms around Mute’s neck and basking in his body heat, their proximity. Despite having no idea what got into Mute, his first instinct is to set aside all doubts and enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.

Which is a terrible notion. It’s what destroyed Mute’s trust in the first place. But how, how is he meant to refuse this? How could he ever?

When it might be the reconciliation he’s been yearning for?

Mute’s tongue is licking any sense out of him, leaving him reeling with its determination to coax out more and more noises, and the delicious way their bodies slot together like they were made for it rapidly fogs up his brain. Heat pools in his crotch, both front and back and he sharply regrets not finishing before driving here – the wanton need merely slept instead of being sated and now awakens with renewed hunger, tugging on his sinews to get him closer to Mute, even closer, press their lower halves together with an undignified moan followed by an ardent echo when his own half-hard shaft meets another.

Fucking hell, Mute is really into this.

Two cool hands slip under Smoke’s shirt and one rests on his lower back, holding him in place if not forcing them even closer, while another creeps up his side, drawing small ticklish circles with its thumb before digging in between his ribs, following the movement of his laboured breaths, rising whenever his ribcage expands. He can’t think straight, is rapidly turning into a hot mess especially when Mute’s hips grind against his own, forcing him to acknowledge the entire length of Mute’s cock, every inch tangible and coaxing out memories. Inconvenient memories. Memories of being bent over a crate and coming undone, coming untouched, of -

A sharp jolt of pleasure has him snap his lower half forward without meaning to: the long fingers exploring his chest have found one of his nipples and started caressing it gently, brushing over it with a fingertip, pinching it slightly. Smoke interrupts their mind-numbing snogging to hiss a quiet fuck, repeats it when Mute continues his ministrations and adds a low moan at wet lips sucking on the side of his neck. He feels both malleable and utterly trapped: Mute’s body is basically wrapped around him and now he’s moulding Smoke however he wants to, he’s shoved a leg between Smoke’s and starts pressing against his crotch, lifting him slightly while bending his upper half backwards to allow for better access to his neck and jaw.

It feels fucking amazing. It shouldn’t, but it does. Smoke is reminded of being at Mute’s mercy and relishes the memory. He’s more than ready to give himself up once more.

“Do you like this?”, Mute mutters, slurred voice a low rumble over Smoke’s skin as he keeps stroking over his nipples with varying intensity, brushing lightly before pinching. “Does it feel good?”

Jesus Christ, now that the lad is (mostly) of sound mind and not preoccupied with getting himself off as fast as possible, it turns out he’s a tease. Smoke is struggling to stay upright as it is, there’s no chance he’ll be able to engage in any kind of conversation or voice his preferences when he can groan in pleasure and hump Mute’s leg instead. His hole is pulsing by now, hungrily clenching around nothing and no doubt weeping for Mute’s girth, and still there’s a tiny voice at the back of his mind asking him whether he really wants this. Whether he’s ready to trade these sensations for a friendship. Again.

“Babe”, he says, and he genuinely wants to demand they stop. He does. He really, really does. If Mute doesn’t listen, there won’t be anything he can do, Smoke’s body is too charged, too sensitive not to go along, but chances are good Mute will listen. If Smoke earnestly asks him to stop, he will. There’s no doubt.

Except, well, before he can utter anything else, Mute kisses him again and these aren’t ‘I hate you but I’m a horny drunk so let’s get it on’ kisses. They’re not ‘I just want sex from you’ kisses. No ‘I’m confused about what I want’ kisses. Mute doesn’t half-arse things, and neither does he half-arse capturing Smoke’s lips in such sensual, deep, adoring kisses that he’s rendered speechless. Though his nipples continue to be abused in the most titillating way, one of Mute’s hands finds the opportunity to bury itself in Smoke’s luscious hair and softly tilt his head into the kiss. Their tongues aren’t involved at first, it’s just smooth lips pressing against his own, chasing his, a relieved sigh following as if uttered by a reassured lover, a gentle massage of his scalp, a tight embrace, a body melting against his.

These are ‘we just reunited after being apart for too long’ kisses. ‘Meeting at the airport after a long vacation’ kisses.

Holy hell.

They’re ‘I missed you so much’ kisses.

Oh boy. Something has happened here and though Smoke can’t identify it yet, his body realises much sooner what it means – he might be able to enjoy this guilt-free after all.

The moment Mute’s tongue touches his is the moment he suddenly becomes aware of how soon this is going to be over if they don’t quit dry humping. Smoke’s primed enough as it is, desperate for any kind of release (even into his sweatpants) and throbbing at this point, the lack of an orgasm earlier coming back to bite him since the roaring need blots out everything else. They have to get a move on, so he bravely reaches between them and unclasps Mute’s belt using what little brainpower their lovely making out leaves him. He keeps moaning into Mute’s mouth despite trying to concentrate on getting his jeans open and eventually just admits defeat, fingers too shaky and mind preoccupied with all the wonderful sensations everywhere on his body.

“I’m gonna come”, he gasps as a last resort, “babe please, I’m gonna come soon. Wait. Please wait, oh fuck -” One of his nipples is twisted in response, causing his erection to jump, and Mute latches onto his neck again, sucking so insistently there’s no doubt it’ll show. Which is a gesture too hot for Smoke to handle right now. “Babe. Please. I can’t -” A hard rod presses against his own, startling a helpless mewl out of him. This isn’t good. He can’t control himself, not near his climax like this, so he’s relying on Mute to do the right thing.

…an intoxicated, horny Mute, and yeah, maybe this isn’t one of his better ideas.

In his desperation, he resorts to the only possible action capable of halting his impending doom and twists in Mute’s arms, writhes until he’s awarded enough leeway to fully turn around and have Mute rub against his arse instead. Which is only a marginal improvement seeing as the large dick fits beautifully between his cheeks and it reminds him too sharply of the position in which Mute fucked a hands-off orgasm out of him.

He wonders whether Mute will manage a repeat performance and feels his face grow warm at the thought.

Arms snake around his torso, conveying Mute’s unwillingness to let him go, and a hand dives down past the waistband of his sweats, meeting nothing but skin. Oh, right. He didn’t dress properly, did he.

“Oh my god, James”, purrs Mute right into his ear, making him squirm. It’s the second time Smoke’s name falls from his lips and where the first occurrence sounded composed, this time it’s both scandalised and excited. He better not think this is all premeditated, it’d kill Smoke if his friend (ex-friend?) assumed he turned up here expecting to get laid, though there’s still one detail left to discover which will undermine him even further. Best not to beat around the bush then.

Well, that and he really, really, really wants Mute’s gorgeous cock inside him right this instant.

He’s overwhelmed as it is, there’s teeth at the nape of his neck and now Mute’s wrist is warm against his dick, deft fingers cradling his balls like they were made for it (and how does he know all of Smoke’s sensitive spots, he exploits everything as if someone had given him an instruction manual, turning Smoke’s knees into butter and his brain into mush), and Smoke can’t. He can’t. He doesn’t care they haven’t shed a single piece of clothing or exchanged an honest sentence since he came here, couldn’t care less about more foreplay or god knows what. Propping himself up on the counter with Mute draped over him like an overprotective, jealous lover, in between jumps of his cock in reaction to the indirect stimulation, he pleads: “Just put it in, babe. I’m ready. You can fuck me right here.”

And though the Mute in his head reacts with unbridled enthusiasm by taking him up on the offer with no hesitation (and wouldn’t that be amazing, just getting railed in Mute’s kitchen mere minutes after arriving, he’d come so hard he nearly passes out staring at the bottle of whisky Bandit put aside for him and all would be fine again), the real-world Mute pauses for a second. Lets go of Smoke’s balls to reach around to the other side, brushes over a quivering hole that instantly relaxes against the probing fingertip, undoubtedly notices how wet it is.

Don’t ask me about it, Smoke implores him mentally, just don’t ask and do it. Please. Fuck now, talk later. Come on.

Two fingers are shoved inside him, pushing the air out his lungs. Smoke lets out a small, helpless noise and then another when the fingers move inside him, push deeper, twist and scissor – not as wide as the toy he’d used earlier but more precise, brushing over his sweet spot with worrying accuracy as he whimpers in disbelief. He stares into nothingness while Mute explores his insides, makes his entire body curl in sudden lust whenever he hits that special place and yes, maybe getting fingered to completion is fine too. The third one finally blurs his vision and nearly has him smack his head on the kitchen counter in response to an especially vicious twist of Mute’s wrist – and though he’s enjoying himself, he idly wonders whether Mute wants some loving, too.

He’s not left wondering for long.

“Bedroom”, Mute orders, voice thick. His fingers withdraw, leaving Smoke gaping and gasping. “Let’s…” A shaky intake of breath, then another, quieter: “… bedroom.”

The lad doesn’t move until Smoke does, probably stalking after him so Smoke can’t see his face (which he already has anyway, and Mute looks as unguarded and open as he did last time: cheeks and ears flushed, off-balance, longing, beautiful). Walking is awkward due to his legs not cooperating fully after Mute just tried to reach into his guts, let alone the general haze clouding his mind; but what it does is allow him a few seconds to think. Unimpeded by curious hands roaming over his body, by an insatiable mouth requiring contact at all times.

He misses Mute’s touch already.

Still… how did they end up like this? A tinge of his previous doubts remains as he himself knows how powerful nostalgia can be, especially when amplified by alcohol. But surely, that can’t be it.

And even if it is, Mute won’t blame him the next day. Right?

… right?

Two details cause this line of thought to screech to a halt: one realisation, the other more immediate. The first is the fact that Mute’s bedroom is an absolute mess. Smoke remembers the layout of this flat, legs carrying him to their destination without any presence of mind required and it doesn’t click until he’s pressed down on the handle, made the door swing open. Clothes are strewn about everywhere, the small desk is crowded with all kinds of shite, the bed is unmade, the wardrobe door askew, a few dirty dishes piled up on the bedside table. No doubt none of Mute’s guests set foot in here this evening. Yet Smoke is allowed to, even asked in, invited into the most intimate part of Mute’s living space and the implications aren’t lost on him. Mute could’ve left him in the kitchen, or they could’ve moved to the living room. Instead, they’re here.

The second one begins as a light touch and changes into a hand wrapping around his, reacting to his prompt by interlacing their fingers, holding on tight. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he stands there like an utter idiot amid this mess, face burning, clutching Mute’s hand so hard it must hurt, and doesn’t dare move a muscle in case all of this vanishes in a single second. In case it’s some fragile, wishful dream. They’re holding hands. And Mute initiated.

What the fuck.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #kac #smoke/mute #smoke #mute #no warnings this time and no pollen involved! #I just #THEM #I finished the first one and went 'well now I gotta write like three more parts to this'