#like the person in this prompt is doing everything right. he needs the carbs. he needs the sugars. he needs the meats. etc

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Friends in need// m.w

Max Wolfe x reader, platonic

Warnings: allusions to drugs, mentions of underage drinking

“-A Manhattan Maxploration!” Y/n heard as they were walking to the courtyard.

Y/n hummed announcing their presence, “I feel like if I asked about this Maxploration, I’m gonna regret it.”

Max slightly smirks and turned to the y/h/c, his best friend. “Well, I’m helping JC here with her problem.”

Y/n scoffed and walked down the steps to face JC, “Best way to get over someone is to drink yourself to hell, alone.”

“Alone-” Monet started. Y/n raised their hand in signal to stop the girl from continuing. “Yes, alone, in a bar with the bartender listening to your problems.”

Y/n stops and think for a moment before adding, “Or we take a page out of Serena Van der Woodsen’s book and make you an all round party girl. Show the world that a boy is not gonna stop you from living your life.”

“Yes!” Max exclaimed. “A party. Letting people who you are,” he added looking JC up and down. “And no one knows how to party better than us,” he boasts, putting his arm around y/n. “Document everything,” Monet said with Luna nodding in agreement.

“Do it for yourself,” Audrey starts, “don’t document it.” She finished earning some simultaneous disagreement from Monet and Luna.

“Document it.”

“Oh my god, document it!”

Y/n turned their head to the two girls behind them, “No, Audrey is right. Don’t document it.” They clicked their tongue and turned their gaze back to JC, “you will be having too much fun to document it. I will deal with showing the world.”

“Also, not only I will post it on my social media, I will also make sure it’ll end up in magazines and such like Serena Van der Woodsen, you know before Instagram was a thing.” Y/n explained.

—————————-

Hours later…

“She definitely looks like she’s having fun,” Y/n said to Max who hummed in agreement. The two are sitting in a booth watching their friend JC dance and have fun.

“I know,” he said, capturing the essence in front of them and posting it in his Instagram story. y/n did the same thing and lifted their arm to take a selfie of them and Max to post. Afterwards, they looked around saw the person they were waiting for, “Perfect,” y/n said, smiling.

“What?”

“The paparazzo that always seems to find me no matter where I am in the world is here,” y/n explained while getting up from their seat. Y/n is a renowned model and a rising actor; not to mention, child of a famous former actress turned fashion designer and a wealthy businessman, so they’re always bombarded with questions and paparazzi. Always in the spotlight.

“You invited a paparazzi?” Max asked after denying the waitress offering some medicinal things and suggesting for it to be offered to JC.

Y/n took a deep breath and turned to him, “Of course not. All I did is post where I am. And now, it’s time for Julien to end up in some paparazzi style spotlight.”

“Genius,” Max complimented. Y/n smiled, placing their hand on his cheeks, “I know.”

Y/n grabbed Julien’s hand and brought her to the middle of the floor whilst grabbing a bottle of champagne. Y/n shook the bottle and gave it to the girl who opened it, showering the people surrounding them with the drink. After a couple seconds, Max joined the two. The paparazzo caught the whole thing and Y/n is pretty sure that’ll be some serious headline along the lines of ‘New York’s Elite It girls partying too hard’ or ‘New York’s Elite gone wild’ or something.

———————-

After a couple minutes, Max came up to Y/n grabbing them towards JC and him. “What’s up with you two?”

JC gestures behind them and y/n saw, “is that your dad? On a date?” JC nodded still staring at the couple.

“How about you?” Y/n asked the boy looking down on his phone. He showed the screen to them in response. “Wow!” They continued, “I’m gonna guess you both want to do some research on this.” Both nodded and Y/n grabbed their phone from their purse and started investigating the blonde girl.

——————————————-

A day later…

Y/n groaned as they heard a knock coming from their living room. They have been busy with photo shoots all day and interviews too, they already missed a Broadway or something play that Max invited them to due to it. They’re extremely tired and want to just have some peach and quiet but it seems the world has other plans.

The knocking continues prompting them to say, “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Y/n opens the door and in front of them made her eyes widen a little, “Rafa- I mean, Mr. Capaross.” Y/n greeted their teacher.

“Evening Ms/Mr y/l/n,” he greeted back, “I believe he asked for you.” He added gesturing to the crying and possibly drunk, high 18 year old boy sitting on the floor. “Max,” y/n gasped. “What happened?”

“It seems there’s some trouble with his dads. Family stuff,” the teacher replied. Y/n nodded and thanked their teacher who left after making sure the boy is situated in y/n’s place.

“Your parents not home?” Max asked. Y/n shook their head and replied, “Nope. Mom is in Paris reviewing clothes, dad is in New Zealand handling some business stuff.”

“Are you okay?” y/n asked after a pregnant pause. Max shook his head and buried his head onto the pillow. “Wanna talk about it?” Max shook his head and mumbles incoherently. Y/n stood up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen.

A few moments later, y/n emerged from the kitchen with two bottles of water and a whole sheet of cake. They handed the brown haired boy a bottle and a fork. “Well, I guess we can eat some carbs,” y/n started, “I’m not gonna force you to talk if you don’t want to.” Max looked at his friend and smiled a little taking a bit out of the cake. The whole night the two spent eating all of y/n’s junk food and Max confiding in his friend.

#max wolfe #gossip girl #gossip girl reboot #audrey hope #aki menzies #julien calloway #monet de haan #luna la #max wolfe x platonic!reader #max wolfe x reader

[secretshinigami]

Beyond Birthday's Day Off

Author: @ironblowtorch​ For: @pinkmalus Pairings/Characters: Beyond Birthday, A, L  Rating/Warnings: Mature- Mentions of death and grief  Prompt: Beyond Birthday’s Day Off  Author’s notes: I really wish I had thought of a more creative title but that’s exactly what the fic is!! <3 I hope you enjoy, the idea was that B is trying to figure out his next steps in life after leaving whammys and he finds himself inspired to start his lifestyle as a killer! :3 

Beyond Birthday had never been this alone in his life. 

  Well… no, that wasn’t exactly true. He was an orphan after all. He had spent his very early days alone, cold, seeing the world in red and numbers. He doesn’t remember much of his time before Whammy’s at all, and he curses the fact that his so-called genius mind never remembered the names above his parent’s head’s.  If he actually thought hard about it, maybe he had always been alone, and now was no different. He did name himself, after all. A name so ridiculous there was no way anyone could have one like it, that was until the nicknames ‘B’, or worse “Backup” became his normal. Yeah… he definitely has been alone all along. 

The saltly wind that suddenly smacked against his face brought him back to the present, reminding him that he was actually alone on the beach, as well as alone in life. He had just  arrived in Los Angeles only hours after sneaking onto a mail plane from London.  Unfortunately that was as far as his plan had taken him… he still had to sort out a place to sleep, food… and most importantly his revenge on L. 

  In all truth, he felt exhausted and overwhelmed. He was happy when he arrived to find himself so close to the ocean, a sight he’d never seen after a lifetime in the orphanage.  If he let his mind drift to Whammy’s or any of the… events that happened this week he wouldn’t be able to keep it together much longer. And he needed to focus on his survival for now. Some genius he was! No plan, no future, no identity… no A… 

  B suddenly threw sand into the water with a shout. He needed to stop thinking. Turning away from the sunset, he started to make his way up the animal path he found hidden under the pier towards the beach. Instantly numbers and names started to swirl around him as he found himself lost in the crowds of people headed towards the water. With no direction in mind, he kept to the edge of the sidewalk with his hands tucked into his jeans. Unfortunately for himself, the only clothes he was able to smuggle with him were L’s standard of a white shirt and blue jeans. At least he managed some flip flops for himself. 

  Even with his California acceptable footwear he stuck out like a sore thumb here. Why didn’t training to become the next greatest detective include social skills? Maybe that takes away your deductive reasoning, like sitting normal, or eating a meal without sugar.  

  Beyond sighed heavily and shook his head at an attempt to clear his thoughts again. This was no good… he needed to find something to distract him… with no money it would be pointless to try and go into a store. He could try to steal, but he really wasn’t familiar with America yet… maybe his best bet was to look for someone whose time was running short… Perhaps he could crash in a dead man’s home for a few days? 

He had been walking with his head down for so long that when he turned the corner and looked up he was greeted with the movie worthy view of the Hollywood sign! In all honesty, he was less impressed than he thought he’d be. But it did give him the great idea of something to do… he could go sightseeing! 

  Truthfully, he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had ever done something just because he thought it would be fun. Most of his life he was just mimicking L, or studying old cases and autopsies, or cheering up A… He deserved a day off! Beyond laughed to himself as he watched the sun start to disappear behind the rolling hills. Yeah, a day off from thinking about L would be long over-due.

  ~~~

  The next day he awoke with a smile on his face, excited for the day ahead for the first time.  

  The night before he had managed to find a public library and used the computers and references to plan his entire next day! He told himself he would figure out food and shelter later, because for now he just wanted more excitement in his life. He wanted to do something just for him. 

  So his first stop at 11am was to visit the famous museum of death on Hollywood Ave! He stumbled upon the poster on a bulletin board in one of the seating areas, and felt like it was destiny. The museum held exhibits of past serial killer trials, autopsies from various diseases, endless animal taxidermy, and plenty of bones and weapons! It was perfect! 

Beyond always felt that when looking at crimes as the detective, you aren’t focusing on the corpses or criminals often at all… it’s more about solving and deductions and justice… blah blah blah. Beyond thought crime and life meant more than all that. Death and life coexisted all the time, he could see it for himself with his own eyes. It had only been a week now since A had died, and for every second leading up to the moment Beyond saw his number drop to zero, they were together. Before it happened, there was no way for him to guess what zero would mean. Maybe a part of him knew, but… it wasn’t real until it was. 

  He felt like he needed to go to this museum as a way to place the grief that was holding onto him somewhere else for a while. Seeing the person you’re closest to die and knowing it… it was too much for him. 

  But at the same time he felt secure in his understanding and knowledge of criminal behavior… in fact his own heart was warming up to the idea of becoming one himself. So the museum felt like a great bridge from his past life towards his new one! His next chapter would begin today, B just needed some inspiration first. 

  On his walk there, he happened to pass by a candy store window, surrounded by people watching through the glass as they watched a man spin taffy. Beyond found himself getting lost in the art of it all along with the crowd of people, so much so that he decided to pop inside. As he walked the aisles he recognized almost all the brands from years of sitting behind L during lectures as he ate enough of the stuff to kill a small child in one sitting. The truth was, B didn’t have much of a sweet tooth himself. He thought candy was kinda pointless, all it did was coat your teeth in sugar then disappear. L swore it made his mind work better, but he also swore a lot of his weirdest quirks did that for him, and Warati let him do whatever he wanted anyway… Yeah. So candy was just another thing B resented about the detective. 

  He didn’t hate all sugar though. He used to think fruit salad from the orphanage cafeteria was the best side they ever offered. Why only eat one fruit when you could eat them all together at once, in a bowl? Fruits were high in sugar content as well, but at least you got fiber and healthy carbs from them! 

  Beyond started to feel a bit guilty as he realized he was going to leave a candy store, a place that should bring any sane person joy upon arrival- in a worse mood than when we walked in. But he didn’t see any fruit or snack that interested him at all… he started back to the door just before he spotted a display of local creations the owner had featured. He walked up and found himself smiling wide as he picked up a jar of locally harvested strawberry jam. This would do! 

  ~~~

  By the time 11 rolled around, Beyond had already eaten his entire jar of jam as well as figured out his sleeping arrangements for at least a few days! Just behind the museum he found an abandoned shipping storage container he could even lock up at night. He finally felt like he was doing something right in his life, as everything fell into place for his new life. 

  Well, almost everything. He was really hoping he would find his last missing piece in his future in this museum. Maybe they were hiring? Maybe he’d find some inspiration for a different line of criminal detective work? Only one way for him to find out. 

The money he used from the wallet he pickpocketed at the bus stop was more than enough to cover his limited expenses for the next few days. The ticket for the museum was $13, which B felt was another sign he was going in the right direction! 

  As he walked through the gift shop and to the entrance, he noticed that it wasn’t crowded at all. The ticket lady did say it was strange to see someone, especially alone, on a Thursday… but he wasn’t complaining. She also warned him about the most explicit parts of the museum being a bit gruesome, and he made note of them to go to first. He could take as long as he needed without being distracted by lifespans! 

  He first wanted to check out the taxidermy animal room. Nothing too gory was in there and that was fine, he just had never seen taxidermy before! Or many animals. It was educational to learn that birds came in just about every size…

  After comparing himself to the stuffed angry badger he excitedly hurried to the serial killer exhibit. Purely out of curiosity!!! B just knew that was where the best autopsy photos were! Along with actual explanations of the killers’ stories… well, at least the ones that were solved. 

  As Beyond stepped into the room his excitement was suddenly matched with the new grief he had as a part of him. B longed to be sharing this moment with A… When they were kids…how many nights had they snuck to the library just to look at photos of other places? How many drawings did B slip into their backpack, how many smacks to the head did B get… all of those moments combined couldn’t have added up to much. But they had meant the world to Beyond… He didn’t feel alone in those moments, A was the only one who noticed him as someone other than a copy of L. Now A was gone forever. 

  Beyond stumbled back to sit on a nearby bench as his heart felt heavier by the second. He swallowed hard and gripped onto the edge of the seat, trying to ground himself. He blinked his eyes and then noticed the name Bertha Marie Smith with a shorter than average lifespan stumble up to him in a panic. 

  “Oh, sir?? This room can be a bit much for most people! It’s alright, we have an exit to the lobby this way…” she reached out to help him sit up-

  “Ha! What? N-No… excuse me…” B quickly stood up and moved away from her. “I’m fine. I just…. needed a moment. I’d like to finish my tour, if that’s quite alright.” He smiled and tipped his head and quickly turned the corner to avoid her. 

  Beyond Birthday was actually better than fine. In fact, before Bertha had come up, he had the most intense realization. 

  A was the only person who knew him as himself. A would be the only one to ever remember him. Who would remember him when he was gone? Who would remember A? 

  He looked around the walls scattered with information he had expert knowledge of. All these crimes… any crime really, he had been learning every strategy a killer could use since he could read. B had given up his chances of ever following the path they had planned  for him, that life was long gone. So what was his chance of ever being remembered now? Hardly above zero. He was sure even L himself wouldn’t attend the funeral if he passed tomorrow. 

  So B decided maybe he was meant to be at this museum after all. Maybe… he could pull something off that couldn’t even compare to any crime the world had seen. Something even L couldn’t get to the bottom of. 

  He could have his very own exhibit here, at the museum! Maybe a whole room dedicated just to his case, something so unsolvable, people would talk about it for centuries…. He could be the world’s greatest criminal instead. 

  Beyond smirked and turned to enter the next exhibit, excited for this next chapter. After all, he was alone now, and nothing could stop him from redeeming A now. 

One Day the Los Angels BB Murder Case would be written about somewhere, he just knew it.  

#fanfiction #death note #submission #beyond birthday #a #a death note #l lawliet #ratings: mature #ironblowtorch #pinkmalus #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

[berrynarrybanana]

hypocrite - h.s blurb

A/N: This is my entry for @oh-honey-styles​ fic slam challenge. I wanted to write smut, but I was watching Dharma and Greg and this just happened, okay. I hope that you all enjoy this and that you’re taking care of yourselves on such a stressful day. My inbox is always open if you need me and I love you all loads. Thank you Anne for hosting this beautiful challenge to keep us all happy and distracted. You’re amazing! 

Word Count: 1k+ (I’m sorry, I have no self control) 

Included: Friends to Lovers

Prompts: “Marry Me” / “I’m in love with you” / “I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression” / “Can I kiss you” 

I can’t really remember when I met Harry. 

There were a plethora of options for a possible meeting place to occur. Between pubs that we both visited regularly and parties hosted by mutual friends, it was hard to pinpoint exactly when or where we met. All I really remember is that he wasn’t in my life and then one day, he was. He appeared in the form of a random text after a night of heavy partying. 

Unknown Number: Thanks for being my karaoke partner last night. 

After a thorough investigation using my camera roll, I put the pieces together. There was a video of me singing karaoke with Harry Styles -clearly filmed by Nick Grimshaw- from a very unflattering angle. His arm was tossed around my shoulder and his smile was bright. We were sharing a microphone, singing Rich Girl by Hall and Oates, extremely out of key. 

Watching the video brought a smile to my face, but it also left me with red cheeks when I noticed how I effortlessly kissed his cheek towards the end of the video as if I had been doing it for years. After a few texts, I found myself sharing brunch with Harry at a cafe that I visited regularly on my own. We split a large stack of pancakes and a full English breakfast, sharing fuzzy memories of the night before through chuckles and groans. 

I learned that morning that Harry was quite possibly the easiest person to be friends with.

 He was fun, supportive, and kind to me even though he’d only known me for a few hours. It struck a chord in my heart strings to see someone so genuine and relatable in our shared line of work. Being in the public eye made finding friends like Harry extremely difficult. I never really knew who to trust or what intentions people had. 

That was the beauty of being friends with Harry. I never had to wonder what his intentions were or if he liked me for me. I always knew that I could call him at any hour of the day and he would still answer. I knew that if I needed to cry or scream or shout, he’d be there to listen with open ears and arms. He was everything that I needed in my person. 

“I just think that Dharma and Greg are what I need in life.” I reached for another salt and malt vinegar chip, chomping down on it as Harry sipped at his wine. “They’re so effortlessly in love, aren’t they?” 

“I suppose.” He nodded. “S’crazy how they just got married on their first date though. I could never do that.”

“Sure you could.” I bumped his shoulder. “When you know, you know.”

“But it’s not…” He pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side as he thought. “It’s not really normal.”

“Fuck normal.” I snorted out a laugh. “Since when do you care about normal?”

“Alright then,” He put his takeout box on the table, angling his body towards mine. “Marry me.”

He raised his brows, watching me as I glared at him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “I like you, you like me, so what’s the difference? We've known each other for much longer than Dharma and Greg-”

“But we’re not in love.” I emphasized. “That is the difference.”

He rolled his lips in, nodding his head before he reached for his food. 

I watched him as he grabbed his fork, digging it into saucy noodles silently. 

“You okay?” 

“Mhm.” He hummed around his noodles, glancing over at me. “S’really good italian food, but I’ve got to stop eating carbs.”

“Harry.” I said slowly. “You’re not going to say anything about-”

“Nope.” He said quickly, wiping at the sauce on his chin with his thumb. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“How about, ‘Y/n, you’re right! I forgot for a second that we aren’t in love. Silly me!’.” I mocked his accent, causing him to glare at me playfully. “Because the way you turned away made me think that maybe-”

“I’m in love with you.” He snorted out a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes as he reached for his wine to mask his true feelings. “Sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”

He shrugged his shoulders before taking two large gulps of his wine, causing my eyebrows to raise. I kept my eyes on him as the television show that started our argument kept playing in the background. My palms felt clammy as I watched him fidget in his seat. I felt the gears in my mind grinding, thoughts coming together and emotions surfacing from pits I’d buried them in ages ago. 

Of course I had feelings for Harry. 

He was my person. 

“Harry, can you be serious for a second?” I asked him. 

“Darling, I really don’t think we should-”

“Please.” I whispered. “I need you to look at me.”

“Y/N.” 

My name fell from his lips in a honeyed tone, his fingers brushing over his bottom lip anxiously. It was a nervous trait of his that I picked up on early in our friendship. I’d seen him do it a million times in interviews when he was in the band, always afraid that he’d say the wrong thing. 

“Do you love me?”

There was no point in pussyfooting around it. 

He let out a sigh, reaching up to brush his fingers through his hair. 

“I’m so in love with you.” It came out in an exasperated huff, his eyes darting over my face as he waited for my response. “I know that we’ve been friends for a long time and there’s a chance that you don’t feel the same, but I can’t stop thinking about what could be if we just tried.” 

I blinked back at Harry silently. 

“You don’t feel the same.” He stated softly. “I should have known that you didn’t feel that way about me, you’ve never given me reason to think otherwise. I’m such a fucking idiot for thinking that-”

“Can I kiss you?” I blurted out, pinching the fabric of my sweatpants nervously. 

His brows raised and I noticed his lips turning up slightly at the corner, causing his dimples to pop out. 

“Stop looking at me like that and just kiss me, you idiot.” I rolled my eyes, pressing my palm into his stubbly cheek. 

It was a quick peck, barely enough to get a true feeling for it, but it still left me wanting more.

“Again.” I whispered into his mouth, tilting my head slightly until our lips melded together. I tried to fight off my smile when it was done. “Again.”

“Darling.” I felt Harry’s palm slip towards the back of my neck as he let out a breathless chuckle. “You’re killing me.”

“I love you, too.” I pressed my forehead into his, biting my lower lip. “I love you a lot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He pulled back with a pout, his eyes soft. “How long have you known?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.” I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t really know until….well, you said something last New Years about how we’d always be in each other’s lives and I’ve never stopped thinking about it. A piece of me has always thought that you were right and that maybe you’re my soulmate.”

“I fell in love with you the night I met you.” He smiled softly. “I felt a bit like Greg when he met Dharma, like worlds were colliding. I remember singing karaoke with you and I just...I felt like I’d met my other half. You’ve always been the person in my life that understands me and supports me, no matter what I’m going through.”

I pressed my lips to his again, giggling when he brushed his thumb over my neck. 

“Kissing you is weird,” I confessed as I settled back into my side of the couch, my shoulder a little closer to Harry’s. “I kind of like it though.”

“Thanks.” He snorted out a laugh. “I’m glad you think I’m a weird snogger.” 

“It’s just new.” I rolled my eyes, glancing at his face. “I said I liked it.”

“Good.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Just wait until I kiss you in other places.”

“Harry!” 

#hsficslam #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #harry styles blurb #I'm sorry y'all I wanted something saucy #I hope you think this is cute #also i've been binge watching dharma and greg so #yeah

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Twelve

Link to Masterpost

I didn’t think I’d have this done so quickly, but here we are!

Content/Warning: While not intended to be a main focus of the work, this chapter does contain discussion of sexual orientation and the revelation of a side character as a trans man (who is almost assuredly not trans in the original canon). While I definitely want to be as respectful as possible even though I’m only barely broaching the topic, I cannot claim to be trans myself, so if I’ve gotten something wrong in my admittedly-minimal talk about it please tell me!

Today’s prompts:

Aelin getting stood up for a date

and

Inappropriate exclamations during an innocent massage

~*~*~

Aelin crossed her legs, leaning forward with an interest she was struggling to feel. “So, Ilias, you said you’re here for work? What is it you do?”

Ilias grinned a little too sharply at her, amusement flashing in sea-green eyes. “I work in… private security. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that.”

“Right.” She began to fidget with the skewer that had held her drink’s cherry, searching for something else to say.

“You seem uncomfortable. Want to get out of here?”

Oh gods, was he really…? Yes, he was leaning in, and the way his eyes flitted down her torso and then back up meant he was saying exactly what she thought he was saying.

“You know, if I’m being honest I don’t know if this is going to work,” she blurted out. “I mean, with you being based so far west of here, and traveling all over for your work… I’m not looking for forever on a first date, but maybe something a bit more stable than that.”

Ilias’ brow furrowed, then he nodded with an easy grin. “Fair enough. I definitely can’t promise stable.”

~*~*~

It had been a while since Aelin had been on a date with a woman, but she knew without a doubt that wasn’t the cause of the nerves settling in the pit of her stomach as golden eyes flashed at her from the barstool beside her. “Can I ask you a question that’s probably a bit rude?”

Her companion—Manon, that was her name—merely raised an amused eyebrow.

Aelin blurted out the question that had been at the tip of her tongue for the past several minutes. “Do you find that people being both scared and turned on is a normal reaction around you, or is it just me?”

Manon smirked, flicking her platinum braid over her shoulder. “It’s what I aim for,” she replied with a flash of sharp teeth.

Aelin laughed. “Okay, if I’m being honest we’re probably a terrible romantic match, but I like you. This is probably weird, since we’re on what’s supposed to be a date, but I have this friend who I think would absolutely love you…” Aelin trailed off, scrolling through the pictures on her phone.

Pointed nails dug into her shoulder as Manon peered at the screen. “I’m interested.”

Aelin blinked. “I haven’t told you anything about Elide.”

“I can see what I need to know about her from the way she’s holding herself in that picture. I’m willing to meet if she is.”

“I’ll introduce you on the condition that you teach me that trick you used on the guy you passed on your way in.”

“Deal.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

~*~*~

Aelin sighed from the corner of the bar, shaking her head as Lysandra gave her a questioning stare. Ress was late. Incredibly late, not just something she could attribute to traffic.

She swirled the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid to stop herself from checking her phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. He would show up if and when he showed up, and she was determined to not be bothered by it even though it bothered her immensely.

Maybe she should take Lysandra up on her offer to set her up. It couldn’t be worse than her experience trying to find people on dating apps.

Finally, her phone chimed as the screen lit up with an unfamiliar number. Aelin, it’s Ress. I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. There’s been a huge disaster at work and apparently I’m the one who gets to clean it up.

Aelin sighed. Well, at least he’d texted her.

~*~*~

“Three flops in as many weeks, Lysandra, I think I’m cursed.” Aelin sighed and nestled further into the couch. “I mean, I went on a run today to try and calm down. Who goes on runs?”

“Rowan goes on runs,” her friend replied wickedly. “And I told you from the start that dating apps were hit or miss. This isn’t college anymore.”

“I didn’t have to worry about it in college,” she reminded her.

“That’s right, you were doing that thing with Sam where you thought you were a lesbian and Sam hadn’t fully come to the realization that he was a guy yet. You know, I still can’t believe you two wound up staying friends after how that fell out.”

Aelin grimaced. Some days she couldn’t quite believe it, either; she had hardly been graceful about it in college. “It took a lot of distance and a lot of growing up,” she admitted. “And a lot of admitting that I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”

“Anyhow, if you’re ready to hear my ideas, I could set you up with Archer.”

Aelin frowned, rubbing at a sudden cramp in her calf muscles. “Is that a person’s name, or a profession?”

“It’s his name. I can help you with that, if you want.” Lysandra leaned forward and took over, deftly massaging her leg.

“And how exactly do you know this Archer?”

“I worked with him at that massage parlor in Rifthold.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Lysandra’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Aelin scowled. “No one from Rifthold.”

Green eyes softened in understanding. “He’s not like—”

“I don’t care. No.”

Thankfully, her friend dropped it there, instead focusing on working the knot out of her sore muscles. “I could also set you up with Rowan.”

Aelin groaned. “Oh gods, Lys. No.”

“What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? My ability to live with him, and therefore my home?” She turned her head just enough to glare at her friend, otherwise remaining practically boneless as she sprawled across the couch.

Lysandra laughed. “You think Aedion wouldn’t kick him out over you?”

“I don’t want it to come to that. So no, you’re not setting me up with him.”

“But you could go on runs together, and when you push yourself too hard he could probably carry you home.”

“You’re a terrible influence. Remind me why we’re friends again?”

“Because you’re a worse one,” her friend grinned. “Besides, I can do this.”

A few deft strokes of Lysandra’s hands had the tension leaving her leg, and she moaned in relief. “Gods, that feels so good.”

“See? Everyone likes my hands, they’re one of my best features.”

“Don’t get all smug with me—yes, right there!”

A loud noise near the doorway had them both freezing and looking over, only to discover that Rowan had gotten home early and looked absolutely mortified. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Aelin, you have a room.”

Aelin blushed hotly as she played back the last several moments of their conversation. Exactly how much had he heard? Hopefully it was just the last part; as awkward as it was, it was easier to explain than her misplaced attraction to him. “As trite as this sounds, it’s not what it looks like.”

“So you haven’t brought one of your recent dates home?” As odd as it was to think, she was relieved by the scowl on his face; the expression combined with his words indicated that he hadn’t heard them talking about him.

“Gods, no. This is Lysandra. From the bar, remember?”

Bless her, Lysandra stood and waved with a grin. She was less thrilled with what her friend proceeded to say, though. “Your friend here pushed too far running and hurt her leg. I was just helping with that.”

Immediately Rowan’s gaze fixated on her legs, obviously searching for any obvious sign of injury. Aelin sighed. “I’m fine, buzzard. It was just a muscle cramp.”

He nodded, the motion sharp and jerky, and strode into the kitchen, fetching a glass of water with almost mechanical precision. “I guarantee you didn’t drink enough water before you ran. This should help prevent it from coming back.”

She scowled, but obediently sipped from the glass after he handed it to her. “I thought you weren’t supposed to right before running. Doesn’t that upset your stomach?”

“I’m talking about yesterday, Aelin. You should be keeping well-hydrated on a daily basis if you’re going to take up running.”

“You just want me to drink more water,” she accused. “That sounds made up.”

“Just try it,” he replied. “You’ll thank me later.”

Her head jerked back toward the living area at the sound of a door closing, only to find that Lysandra had taken the opportunity to quietly let herself out. Her friend grinned and waved from the driveway when she saw her, clearly realizing she was caught and utterly unrepentant.

Aelin sighed and turned back to Rowan, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite identify. “You’re really okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I just needed something to help me not think for a while after these shit dates I’ve been on lately, and I’m told drinking alone is a sign of having a problem.”

The corner of his lips quirked up in the barest hint of a smile. “They must’ve been really bad, to make you consider running as a viable option.”

Aelin shrugged. “I mean, I’ve had worse, but I’ve also had better? It was just one miss after another, you know?”

He glanced at her again, then turned toward the refrigerator. “I think I have everything we need to make pasta, if that’ll help you feel better.”

“You’d actually make me pasta?” She frowned; there had to be some kind of catch. There was no way he would simply allow that many carbs to be on his stovetop at the same time.

“I would,” he replied, heading toward the pantry and grabbing…

“Wait, that’s not pasta,” she blurted out. Gods, she knew there was a catch.

He laughed, rolling up his sleeves before grabbing their eggs as well. “It’s not pasta yet.”

“You can’t seriously mean—” There was no way he was actually making pasta from scratch. There was a reason it came in boxes, she was sure of it.

“I can and I do. Now either stop talking and watch or get out of my kitchen.”

Aelin chose to watch, and the play of muscles in his forearms as he made and kneaded his own pasta dough was almost enough to make her forget about why she’d thought it was a good idea to try dating again in the first place.

Almost.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp @sleeping-and-books @acciowests @stardelia @anidealiveson

#rowaelin #haven writes #reluctantly rooming

[downondilaudid]

High as a Kite

After a stressful case reader unwinds in her own unique way, unfortunately, the BAU is called in on another case. Spencer doesn’t seem too fond of the reader’s stress reliever.

A/N: This is very poorly edited. I just got into a massive fight with a few friends. So now I’m very sad, and just wanna sleep. But fuck them. Like that one vine says, I don’t need friends, they disappoint me. Seriously, FUCK THEM. I still love them doe, i have too, they’re the only friends i have.

Oh also, I wrote this in first person, instead of my usual second person. Let me know if you like it or not! <3

Requested: Yes

Prompts: None

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: (Unprotected)Penetrative Sex, a DASH of angst, drug use, let me know if I missed anything.

“He rarely smoked, but once in a while, like now, when his world had been shaken, his woman nearly killed in front of his eyes, and he’d watched a house consume a man and spit him out, he figured a drag or two were appropriate.”

― Christine Feehan, Safe Harbor

Relaxing after a case was one of my favorite things on the planet. Especially when it ended well, I had been able to watch as the little girl who had been stolen from her family, ran to her parents, her little arms wrapping around their legs. Seeing the love and adoration in the parent's eyes as the wept and held her made me want to have a child of my own.

Spencer and I had been together for a little over a year, but I doubt either of us are ready for children. Our job alone is stressful enough, in fact, it’s how we met. I worked as a technical analyst under Penelope Garcia. I will say my job wasn’t as strenuous as Spencer’s, but it’s not exactly ideal to look at dead bodies all day.

We all have our own peculiar ways of unwinding, Spencer loves to sit and read a few books, Hotch heads home to spend time with Jack, and Emily is always down for a drink. I, on the other hand, would much rather smoke a bowl than read a book. It was my own way of unwinding and allowing my brain to cleanse itself of the horrors of the world.

My pink pipe was packed with weed, a matte black lighter in my hand. The weed burned in the small bowl, crisping to a dark black. My finger released the carb of the pipe a couple of times, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs.

The haunting voice of Lana Del Rey filled the room. Her voice alone is smooth as honey, but listening to her while high is an ethereal experience. I could only imagine what Spencer would do if he could see me now, probably ramble off the statistics of marijuana addiction. But I could definitely say I wasn’t addicted, it was just an easy way to relax.

I took another hit, watching as the smoke tumbled from my lips. My stomach rumbled, causing me to giggle lightly, here come the munchies. Usually, I didn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but when I’m high I can’t get enough sugar.

My hands pulled open the pantry, hips swaying lightly to the music.

Suddenly the music was gone, replaced by an annoying buzzing, “Ugh, you’re fucking kidding.” I groaned. I let the pantry fall shut, making my way over to where my phone sat. I had an inkling who was calling me, but every ounce of my body was praying I was wrong. Unfortunately, I was not, as I had one text from Hotch and a missed call from Spencer.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand, Spencer’s name illuminating the phone. Quickly I answered the call, pulling the phone up to my ear. “Hiya Spence.” 

“You get the call?” Spencer questioned, his voice cracking slightly, it was obvious he hadn’t used it in a while. He had probably been reading ever since he got home.

I giggled lightly at the sound of Spencer’s voice, taking a moment to admire the perfect way it croaked. “Mhm, can you pick me up?” 

There was no immediate response, it was obvious there was something off, Spencer could tell. I never asked him to drive me anywhere, I was always the one driving. Especially due to Spencer’s hatred of automobiles. 

“But don’t you usually pick me up?” he questioned. 

“Spencer, that last case… I’m literally the definition of exhaustion, can you please, just this once?” I was hoping that with the use of his full first name, he would understand the seriousness of my question. There was no way I was driving to work, with Spencer in the car, while high. 

Speaking of, I still had zero idea how I was going to act sober in a room of profilers, granted, I had a lot of practice of acting sober in front of people, just not at work. Unfortunately for me, the best two words to describe myself while high were, giggly and horny. Oh, and hungry, who doesn’t get the munchies?

Spencer sighed on the other end of the line, “Of course, Y/N.” He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation in his voice with his next words. “Is-is everything okay?” 

“Oh, totally, the case just got to me, that's all!” My reply was all but convincing, it didn’t help the awkward silence made me giggle, which I quickly stifled with my hand. But to Spencer, I’m sure it sounded like a muffled sob. At least he’d buy it, right?

… 

I hopped into the car, looking too giddy to be dealing with another case, “hey.” 

Spencer turned his head to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his tongue peeking out between his pink lips. “Y/N are you sure you’re okay?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully glaring at Spencer, “yes, now drive, baby.” I reached out, grabbing the gear shift, and shifting the car into drive. 

The car rolled slightly before a startled Spencer slammed his foot on the brake, “Y/N what the- my foot wasn’t even on the brake! Do you know how many accidents are caused a year due to pedal error? Sixteen thousand, and that’s just in the U.S.”

I know it was inappropriate, but during the whole lecture he was giving me I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his hands. They were so perfect, long and thick, the number of times that I’ve come undone on those hands is immeasurable. I shifted in my seat before meeting his eyes. Honestly, I hadn’t comprehended a word he said, something about cars?

Spencer shifted the car back into park, turning in his seat to lean towards me. His eyes scanned me up and down, and not in a good way. “You’re acting strange. You’re overly bubbly, especially considering we have another case. You aren’t thinking rationally-”

A gasp left my body once I realized what he was doing, “Spencer Walter Reid, are you profiling me? We agreed not to do that!”

Despite my yelling he kept speaking “and you were too focused on the movement of my hands to retain a single word I told you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. 

“Spencer, what the fuck are you-ow!” A blinding light clouded my vision, causing me to recoil further into my seat. 

A scoff left Spencer’s mouth as he turned off the flashlight. “You’re high,” he stated, “what did you take?”  

“I’m not-” I quickly stopped my sentence once I saw the glare Spencer was sending me. “Okay, I just smoked a little weed. Seriously, it wasn’t a lot.”

Spencer unlocked his phone, pressing a few buttons before opening the “W-what are you doing?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. 

“Calling Hotch” Spencer replied, his voice even yet stern. It was somehow scarier than his occasional outburst.

“What? No, Spencer!” I reached over the console, latching my hands onto his phone, before pulling back. Sadly, the phone stayed rooted in his large hands, and with a swift tug, he had the phone back in his grasp. 

Spencer glared harsh daggers at me, before looking back down, and continuing to type on the phone. “Y/N, you’ve already pushed me far enough. Sit down and keep your mouth shut.” 

I fell back into my seat, pouting and crossing my arms childishly. The faint sound of ringing broke the silence, stopped by the barely audible voice of Hotch over the phone. 

“Hotch, Y/N can’t come in, she’s sick. I think she has a fever.” The lie tumbled easily out of his lips. 

My head whipped towards him, my eyebrows raised in amusement. “Thanks, I will.” Spencer ended the conversation, this time setting his phone in the cupholder in the console. 

I giggled lightly, “what would I do without you to save my ass?” 

He didn’t respond, instead putting the car in drive, this time with his foot on the brake. Silence filled the car, Spencer opting to focus on the road, and me fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. 

“Spencie, are you mad at me?” I asked, resting an elbow on the console between us. 

It was obvious he was frustrated, I would be too, but how was I supposed to know we’d get called in on a case? “Yes, Y/N” he answered, his words punctuated and his jaw clenching, accentuating his razor-sharp jawline. 

There was something about angry Spencer that sent shockwaves to my core, leaving me squirming against the leather of the car. Eh, what the hell, might as well go for it, I can just blame it on the cannabis. 

My arm reached across the console, my hand landing on the top of Spencer’s thigh. I watched him visibly jump at my touch, he obviously wasn’t expecting it. “Are you sure it’s just anger?” 

He sighed loudly, one of his hands leaving the steering wheel to remove my own from his leg.

…  

“Please Spencer, just really quick? It’d help you relieve some stress!” I cried as I walked through the door. 

Another angry sigh left Spencer’s mouth, he seemed to be doing that a lot. “Y/N, you’re under the influence, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I almost laughed at his statement, it was perfectly logical of him to think that, and utterly sweet. But he was my boyfriend, my love, I would fuck him in whatever state I’m in. “Spence, I can promise you you’re not taking advantage of me. We’ve had sex countless times, I’d have sex with you even if I was sober, have you seen you?” I paused for a moment before adding onto my sentence, breaking the slight tension with humor, “yourself, not you, that doesn’t sound right.” 

Spencer chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes as he reached for his belt. “Hell yes!” I cried as I began to undo the buttons of my blouse, quickly shedding it. I could’ve just left the blouse on, but Spencer was a tits man through and through. 

As soon as I heard the clinking of his belt colliding with the floor, I ambushed him, immediately letting my lips find his. The kiss wasn’t rough, nor was it gentle, it was somewhere in between, a perfect balance. I pulled away, biting down lightly on Spencer’s bottom lip. 

My hand slipped into his unzipped pants, palming him lightly. It was the most heavenly sight on earth to watch his head fall back, and a low moan tumble from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N” 

Nodding my head I giggled, “yes, please fuck Y/N.”

Spencer tilted his head back up, laughing lightly at my comment.

I pulled away from him, grabbing the hem of my skirt and shimmying it up over my hips. Spencer’s eyebrows raised, a look of amusement on his face. “Please” I begged.

“Alright, turn around, over the table,” Spencer commanded, his voice low and demanding.

A giggle passed my lips as I turned around, making my way over to the table. My top half pressed against the table, my body resting against my forearms. I could hear Spencer’s footsteps as he crossed the room, stopping behind me. His large hands wrapped around my hips, pushing my skirt higher up my body. “Do you know how irresponsible it was of you to try and come into work while under the influence?” 

His hand left my hip coming back down onto my backside, the impact causing me to cry out. “Spencer!”

His hand raked up my side, grabbing a fist full of my hair. “I-I didn’t have a choice.” I stuttered out as one of his fingers hooked onto my underwear, pulling them to the side. 

“You did have a choice, you chose not to inform Hotch, leaving me to save your ass. Do you understand how detrimental the consequences could’ve been if something were to go wrong?” Spencer’s fingers ran through my folds, spreading around my arousal. 

“Fuck” I moaned out, using my forearms to push myself back against his hand. “Better hurry this up, Spence, we don’t have long.” Spencer shuffled behind me before I felt the head of his cock brush against my core. “Fine, if you’re so impatient.” He grunted, pulling back on my hair, and pushing his cock into my folds. 

He was quick to set a rough pace, pulling out and pushing back in, using the hand in my hair as leverage to pull me back in time with his thrusts. “Yes, Spencer, fuck,” I groaned out. 

“You know,” Spencer started, pausing to roughly thrust into me, sending my body forward against the table, the edge digging into my thighs. “If you wanted a stress reliever, you could’ve come to me. Sex releases endorphins and other hormones, the same way exercise does. Particularly, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the “love hormone.” 

I moaned against the table, my body beginning to falter as my orgasm approached. “Fuck, Spencer, mhmm, yes.” 

With every thrust, I could feel the strain of Spencer yanking my hair back, which would definitely leave a crick in my neck. But I was enjoying myself too much to tell him to stop. I could practically feel Spencer’s anger with every obscene smack of our sweaty skin. It was what I was hoping for, a good fuck, and for Spencer to be able to release his anger before heading back to the BAU. 

Surprisingly, Spencer released his vice grip on my hair, easing the tension on my neck, allowing my face to fall forward and my cheek to squish against the table. He planted his forearm beside my head, leaning over me so his chest was pressed against my back. “How good would you feel if I allowed you to come right now?” To add to the pleasure, Spencer’s hand resting on my hip wormed its way around my body, two of his long digits beginning to rub circles around my swollen bud. 

A sob racked my body at the added pleasure, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I could feel my legs starting to tremble as I held back my release, almost as if my body knew I couldn’t let go until he gave me permission. “Please, please?” I begged.

“Say it. Promise me you’ll come to me next time you need to relieve stress.” Spencer growled, his voice cracking, signaling he was close too. 

The desperate sounds of our moans and the musty smell of sex filled the room, drowning out my senses. I was too lost in the euphoria to reply, instead, I deliriously rutted my hips back as an attempt to feel him deeper. 

Spencer let out a groan before burying his head deep in the crook of my neck, moaning out “promise me, Y/N.” 

“I promise, fuck, please, Spencer?” The words tumbled almost incoherently out of my lips, barely comprehensible. 

Nodding his head against my skin, he placed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck before moaning out “come, come with me Y/N.” 

And just like that, I was sent headfirst into a trembling, teeth-clenching orgasm. My back arched, uncomfortably pressing my breasts even further against the table. My vision went white, and my legs threatened to collapse. Spencer had stilled, burying his cock deep in my cunt, lewdly moaning out my name, and a series of various curses. An unfamiliar warmth coursed through my body as he filled me up with his seed. Leaving me to grin like a Cheshire cat, caked in sweat. 

The two of us laid against the table, deep pants leaving both our mouths. Spencer pulled out, tucking himself back in his pants. “Thank you” I giggled, pushing myself up from the table, and shuffling my skirt back down my legs. 

When I turned around I was met with the sight of a sweaty Spencer, running his hands through his tousled hair. “You look fine, Spence.”

I could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to contain his smile, probably wanting to stay mad at me. But as soon as his eyes met mine, his face broke into a soft smile, my own following suit. I took a step forward, wrapping my arms around his torso, and letting my head rest against his chest. “I love you” I murmured against his shirt. 

His arms wrapped around my back, pulling me closer to him, “I love you too” he replied, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Okay, I have to go,” Spencer said, letting his arms fall back to his side.

I pulled back, unwrapping my arms from his body. “Don’t forget your belt,” I nodded towards his belt that was left discarded on the floor in the midst of our frenzy. 

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N, remember?” Spencer joked, snatching his belt from the floor, and looping it back through his pants. 

Rolling my eyes with a laugh I replied, “that doesn’t mean things can’t slip your mind, Spence.” 

“Actually-” he started.

I cut him off by opening the front door, “bye, have fun, I love you!” 

Spencer laughed, pecking me on the lips before heading out the door, looking over his shoulder to call out, “we’ll talk more about this later, Y/N. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

“Shit.” I groaned, letting the door fall shut.

Taglist: @pinkdiamond1016 @gubler-squad @garcias-batcave

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

[ghostofstudentspast]

One of a kind

Charlie x Reader

Prompts: “Please shut up, I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.”

I have such a soft spot for Charlie Weasley, I think he’s so underrated and deserves so much more love!! So I wrote this little piece that’s completely and utterly filled with fluff. I also wrote it for @summer-writes writing challenge (and you should check her out too because she’s lovely)!

Three days. That’s how long it had taken for you to develop a crush on Charlie Weasley. You’d vaguely remembered him from your days at school but he was two years above you and let’s face it, Hogwarts is a big school.

Now, it was rare to see the two of you apart. You’d joined his team in Romania almost two years ago now. Starting as a glorified intern, you were more than happy to just be around the dragons. Today you were counted as an integral part of your research team. While Charlie focussed more on the handling and transporting of dragons, you were at his side to monitor the creatures’ health. Always the first to clock injuries, diet changes and sicknesses you really were an expert in the dragon department.

Not only were the two of you a wonder team but you got along like old friends. His happy go lucky demeanour sparked your creative side which meant work was never boring. Your sharp tongue counterbalanced his quick wit which meant you were always tossing back and forth a little ball of banter.

You worked together and you were known to take work home. It only made sense when the two of you moved in together a few months into your partnership. You set basic boundaries and you mostly managed to squash the tiny little voice in your head that begged for him to make a move. If being platonic meant you could have Charlie in your life, you were happy to just be friends.

Living together worked out to be a blessing, the only problem was his singing. Not because it was bad, oh no quite the opposite. His voice was gravelly and had such a warm tone to it that it was like fire whiskey to your ears. He was constantly singing, while he cooked, in the shower and even on the job. It got to the point where you would just zone out as soon as you heard his voice. It always gave you butterflies. No not butterflies, they were fully grown dragons flying around in your stomach.

“Y/N!” the object of your thoughts came bursting into your living room, full of energy as always, “there’s a rumour going around that we might be getting a Hungarian horntail in sometime this month!”

He dropped onto the sofa across from the chair you were currently perched on and grinned. The two of you had been busy at work preparing to transfer some dragons in from a sanctuary across the country. It was always exciting when you had new dragons to study and look after but Charlie was especially thrilled each time. You’d never met someone who loved their career as much as he did.

“That’s fantastic Charlie!” you closed the book that had occupied you and watched the curly headed man toss a ball up in the air as you chatted. He always needed something to keep him busy, he always had energy to burn. “I heard there’s some babies coming along as well.”

“I know, it’s fantastic,” he shot you a quick grin, “it’ll be like a brand new addition to our little family.”

“Our family?” you chuckled and raised your eyebrow at him, “that makes you what? Their uncle?”

“Mm yeah, you’re right, we’re like the fun uncle and aunt that the kids can’t wait to see at Christmas,” he stuck his tongue out at you and tossed the ball up again with ease.

“You’re one of a kind Weasley,” you shook your head and stuck your tongue back out at him.

“Then aren’t you lucky you know me?” he winked at you and rolled off the couch to stand up. You weren’t too phased by his flirty personality as much as you were when you first met him but it still kicked up a little blush on your face when he caught you off guard.

“I’m gonna shower and then I’m thinking of making pasta. You know, in case you’re interested.”

“In what, the pasta or the shower?” you flirted back and smirked up at him, “cause those are two very different offers Charles.”

“Hey, I’ll leave that for you to decide darling,” he wiggled his eyebrows and tossed the ball up and down again as he backed out of the room. He turned to leave and yelled a quick, “I’ll be in the shower!”

You smacked yourself in the forehead with your novel as your cheeks coloured red. You let yourself take the five seconds to consider following him before putting the book back in your lap and distracting yourself with the text. He just couldn’t help being flirty, you knew that, it was a part of his personality. You’d be a hypocrite if you didn’t say the same about yourself. But with Charlie it was always slightly different.

“Carbs will fix this,” you muttered, choosing to let your thoughts drift to pasta instead.

And there it was, as if on cue, Charlie singing in the shower. You couldn’t help but smile a little bit as he loudly sang along to whatever was stuck in his head today. He was far from shy and you loved that about him. The man could be comfortable anywhere and never had any shame for being a bit strange.

It was easy to fall in love with him the way you had. He was kind, fun, handsome and practically your best friend. You would be shocked if anyone managed not to fall in love with him if they were in your position. You knew you were basically an old married couple at this point anyway. Last Christmas he’d even taken you home to the Weasleys for a few days to meet his family. Normal, colleague behaviour, right?

“Hey,” Charlie stopped in the doorway on his way to his room, towel wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t rare to see Charlie walking around without a shirt, just as you would often walk around without pants. It was your house. But still, your eyes skipped over his torso and you forced your eyes to stay on his face. “so, yes on the pasta? Maybe some ice cream?”

“You should know you don’t even have to ask at this point Charlie,” you grinned and shooed him out of the room, waving your book at him.

His humming made nice background noise to your reading, trying your hardest to stay focused on the words on the page. Eventually you gave up and decided to see if you could help in the kitchen. There you found Charlie stirring a pan on the stove and humming along to the radio he had playing from the counter.

“You know you have a wand right?” you crossed your arms with an amused smile playing on your lips.

“You know, somehow this seems safer for me,” Charlie barked out a laugh and turned to grin at you, “don’t exactly have a great track record with household magic do I sweetheart?”

“Can’t deny that,” you laughed and pulled some plates out of the cupboard and started setting the little table in the centre of the kitchen. The two of you sitting down to gorge yourself on cheesy goodness.

You often split the chores between you, alternating who cooked for who. It wasn’t really a competition to see who was the better cook between you but if there’s one thing he could cook well it was comfort food. Something that came naturally to the Weasleys was a creating comforting environment so it was no surprise.

“Nope, I got it!” You grabbed Charlie’s plate before he could get up and put it away, “You cooked, I clean.”

“You’re too good to me,” Charlie chuckled and helped bring everything to the sink, “one of these days my mother will demand I marry you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and turned towards the sink so he couldn’t see your eyes widen. Wouldn’t be so bad Charlie, you thought to yourself. You could hear him continue to hum along from the living room as you flicked your wand over the dirty plates to clean them. He came waltzing back into the kitchen as Frank Sinatra played over the speakers. Reaching out his hands dramatically to serenade you as you leant against the counter and crossed your arms with a smirk.

“Please shut up, I can’t stand how appealing your voice is,” you pretended to plug your ears.

Charlie just shook his head with a grin and continued singing, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen to join him in his dancing.

I could be a king on crown

Humble or poor, rich or renowned

There is nothing I couldn't do

If I had you

You let out a laugh as he spun you towards him and rocked the two of you back and forth. Your hand clasped in his, the other on your waist he danced the two of you through the small kitchen. Resting your head on his shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to him sing along. He smelled like fire and cinnamon and Autumn. A smile was permanently stuck on your face even as your heart skipped a beat.

His hand was warm against yours, scars littered his fingers and forearms along with light freckles from the sun. His thumb stroked the back of your hand as you swayed comfortably, the music fading out.

You opened your eyes to look up at the man who held your heart and were surprised to find him looking back. His hand travelled up to your cheek and his calloused thumb stroked your cheek gently. You held your breath and nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“I am so insanely in love with you,” he whispered. It was so soft, you’d feared you’d misheard him somehow. “It’s driving me crazy Y/N.”

Without second thought you stood up on your toes and pressed your lips to his. Your arms easily resting on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as his hands gripped your waist and steadied you. His lips were soft and moved perfectly against yours. You smiled into the kiss and let out a soft chuckle as your forehead came to rest against his, the two of you smiling and laughing breathlessly.

“I love you,” you smiled, “I’m so in love with you,” you let out a joyful laugh as Charlie picked you up with a dopey grin on his face and kissed you again. You wound your hands in his hair as he held you against him.

“Thank god,” he laughed as he set you down, your feet touching the floor again. “there was a moment there where I thought I’d have to find the dragons a new aunt.”

You slapped his chest with a laugh and rolled your eyes at him. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead it’s a smile. It was everything you could have possibly hoped for with Charlie.

“So you really think my voice is incredibly appealing huh?” he asked with an innocent expression in his face, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed as your face flushed again.

“No, In considering a career change now,” he teased, “Yeah I can see it now, Charlie the dragon taming pop star.” he squeezed your hip with his hand.

“Right, you call me when that works out,” you snorted and patted his chest with your hand.

“What if I can’t wait that long to call you?” he smiled at you and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” you smirked and tugged him down by the front of his shirt to kiss him again.

#summerswritingchallenge #harry potter #charlie weasley #charlie x reader #hp headcannon #hp blurbs #hp writing #hp fanfic #harry potter headcannon #harry potter blurb #one shot #dragons

[vegalocity]

10/18 spicynoodles plis

Prompt meme || @deborahsworld

10.A Shy Kiss/18. Holding Hands

Hell yeah time for fluff

--

Okay... first date....Going pretty well so far. The Movie was okay—MK wasn't very big on horror movies even ones as old as this one was, but Red Son was really excited when he saw it was being played for a ‘foreign movies’ night at the movie theater and what, could have have argued against such enthusiasm?—if a bit slow going and atmospheric.

Though after the heroes found the monster frozen and seemingly dead in the abandoned Norwegian outpost, all twisted and malformed, he really hoped his appetite wouldn't be killed by the end of this with even worse when the monsters started actually moving.

And then the monsters actually started moving.

The dog turning into a monster and killing the other dogs hurt the animal lover inside him, and he felt a bit of his latent arachnophobia begin to rear its head when the hairy legs sprouted from its back, and then the actual form the monster, halfway through killing the remaining trapped dogs had sent a chill up his spine and then-

“See how they were able to make the monster look goopy? It's not really very goopy except during the close up shots, because it's an animatronic so it had to be dry most of the time, they got the shine effect by piling liquid latex ontop of the finished paintjob until it started drying while it trailed off of the frame. And that right there? When it took the hurt dog? That was actually filmed in reverse, having the tentacles start out around the dog puppet and then rapidly pull away so when they reversed it it looked like they actually moved and had torque behind the action.”

“Really?”

“Yeah it's really fascinating how they went about effects before computer graphics were refined, everything had to be practical so even if it doesn't look the best, it doesn't hit that uncanny valley that bad CGI makes because even if it doesn't look real it looks real enough.”

It didn't feel quite as disturbing with that rattling around in his head, focusing on how much work must have been done to make the monster move as realistically as possible, how many times they'd practiced and trained in a controlled sound stage and adapting it to the set...

They weren't the only ones in the theater, but it was a mostly empty showing, as was usually the case with foreign films as old as this one. So it wasn't like they were disturbing anyone with Red Son leaning over to whisper interesting details MK would have never even thought to look up to make the overall experience less scary. Red Son seemed aware that he wasn't the biggest horror fan, and was trying to soften the blows the more intense moments would bring by talking through them and bringing back  the reality that it was just a movie they were watching.

“I was alive in this era and I can state with general expertise that computers were certainly not that advanced yet. Computer AI wasn't past that of your average graphing calculator until at least the mid 1990's.”

“They got that sound effect by putting a microphone in a tin trash can and recording the sound of a racecar zooming by and put it in a reverb chamber until it sounded completely unrecognizable”

“Blair is already a Thing at this point, you remember when he was dissecting the Norwegian base's monster? He was using a pencil eraser to point out that era in its chest and then he'd touched the eraser to his lip! And since it started by probably just a small contingent of shed cells it probably took him longer to assimilate than the others.”

“This is actually really cool! The stunt double for Copper that they got for the scene actually was a double amputee! They made fake hands for him out of latex, filled them with fake blood, and styled the chest jaw like a bear trap for that disgusting pulling shot.”

Though... That one didn't work as well... When the long tendril shot from the Thing's stomach and sprouted slider legs and a second head, the extending neck hissing and glaring down at the heroes, he felt his gut turn, even as the heroes took the flamethrower to the monster.

The monster's first head ripped from its body and grew spider legs. And Oh GOD that was disgusting, without thinking he reached for the edge of the armrest to grip as the heroes had to play cat and mouse with a severed, spider head. He'd missed, and his hand clapped down atop of Red Son's and squeezed.

Red Son jolted beside him and MK saw him turn in his direction in his periphery.

“You know if this is freaking you out too much we can leave.”

“No! No, it's okay. You like this movie! You wouldn't know so much about it if you didn't like it!” Besides, he shouldn't be getting so spooked about some kinda gross kinda spidery horror movie from the 1980s, what kind of hero got freaked out at a little practical effects?

He couldn't see Red Son's face very well with only the light of the movie itself to see by, but he made a strange sort of humming noise and slipped his hand out of MK's, moving his arm to put the arm rest up and then slide his hand back into his own.

“Here, that should be more comfortable then.”

And it was. Red Son's factoids and chatter alongside the movie were doing well at cutting the edge off of it again, and it was aided by not just their connected hands, but now by his physical closeness as well.

“I've heard the director had this stylistic rule about after the Things start invading, the idea is that if a character has light reflecting off their eyes they're human, if not they're a Thing.”

“Most people think Palmers was the shadow the dog assimilated back earlier but I think it was Norris, Palmers didn't get turned into a thing until after they go and talk to Blair again I don't think.”

“Actually...I don't think I like that translation very much. Like yeah it's more polite and Gary's a gentleman, but 'I'd rather not spend the rest of this winter tied to this fucking couch' emphasizes the stress of the situation better.”

And then came the time of the final confrontation, MK braced himself, squeezed Red Son's hand in his own. It was indeed gross, and frightful, and the puppetry alone was REALLY good. All those moving parts and there's no way that THAT was an animatronic so it HAD to be a puppet. And wow that was a REALLY good explosion.

...huh...Apparently he could do it too.

The movie ended with what MK felt like was a tentatively optimistic note. The remaining two heroes sharing a drink as the research facility and the monsters it housed burned around them. And you maybe get the feeling the two of them won't survive the cold, but they stopped the monsters and that’s what matters.

Though MK was right to worry over the movie killing his apatite because by the time the lights went up and the credits rolled he found he wasn't very hungry. Which felt ridiculous since he was always in need of quick carbs for Monkie Kid things. But Red Son had lost his own apatite as well apparently and the two of them could do nothing but laugh a bit awkwardly at their date being derailed by a movie being a bit too gross.

So MK pulled him into a nearby park and they went for a walk instead of the restaurant they'd planned for.

“Most people think that Childs is a Thing and I'm tempted to agree, He doesn't have the eye shine but neither does MacReady and we know he's not a Thing, but MacReady's breath is steaming and Childs' doesn't until the very end there, and MacReady wasn't drinking, those were Molotov Cocktails, that was gasoline and Childs just downed it without a thought to taste or smell.”

“So you think the Thing won at the end?”

“I don't know, but they do have one flamethrower left and Childs whether he's a Thing or not just drank gasoline. So MacReady as a person is probably as good as dead.”

“I Dunno, I like the idea that he wasn't a Thing in the end, gives it something not dissimilar to a happy ending, but like, it's not like they hadn't been wrong about who was a Thing before. The dog handler wasn't a Thing but he got shot anyway.”

“That's very true.”

It was about there that MK realized he'd yet to let go of Red Son's hand.

Well... he hadn't pulled away... MK squeezed Red Son's hand in his own, and Red Son—on a tangent about how in the time before CGI they'd made the stylistic title card with use of a fishtank, garbage bag, flash paper and a lot of smoke—squeezed him back.

A few hours and a plate or two of street vendor food when either of their appetites returned later and Red Son had insisted on walking him home. He was staying in a penthouse that his family technically owned but he was the only one who actually knew about it, and he wanted to be a gentleman before he headed back there.

“Well,  I hope you enjoyed yourself a bit. I feel as though I should apologize for choosing such a niche film, mother always said I was the only one who cared about foreign horror movies and just because I find movie effects fascinating especially in a time before technology was as advanced as it is now doesn't mean I should subject others to my incessant yammering.”

he didn't really think Red Son could pull off shy, but he'd folded his arms tightly and was very pointedly NOT looking at him now. And Sure, this felt like a big step, but that playfully self deprecating tone wasn’t gonna fly here. He moved slowly, giving Red Son time to pull away if desired. Placing one hand on Red Son's shoulder, the other on the side of his face to turn his head. He had to get on his tiptoes to make it to his level, but he leaned in-

It was nice. Soft, and Red Son of course ran hotter than an average person so it was warm too. He pulled away just as he felt Red Son start to press back against him. When MK opened his eyes, he noticed Red Son's were still closed for a moment longer before fluttering open.

“I like your incessant yammering.” He had such a cute blush. “it means you're passionate about something.” 

“You... wanna come in? Monkey King gave me this new tea blend I've been meaning to try out.”

--

Prompt meme (I’ll stop when y’all stop sending stuff)

#Spicynoodleshipping #soff first date #Monkie Kid #MK Red Son #MK #letters to vega #Vega writes stories too #prompt meme #deborahsworld #The more times i write for Red Son the more I project hashtag autism moods #tfw u infodump on your date about an SI all night #and then SHCOK DELIGHT when you find out they think its charming

[oimoi-op]

when were you diagnosed with t1d?

Ok, so storytime! Short answer is, as of today, barely over two months ago. 

(Very long post warning y’all, contains hospital mention and extensive, possibly upsetting descriptions of health conditions, specifically DKA)

My family doesn’t really have a history of T1D or even T2D, though my second-cousin-once-removed has had T1D for over a decade now. So, there was never any reason for me to try and get tests done for it. The only sign I really had up until last semester was two copies of a variant of an HLA gene that I knew about from a 23andMe report (which, according to the report, put me at a higher risk for celiac’s and nothing else), but of course at that time I had no idea that that could mean anything serious; after all, that sort of thing only happens to other people, right?

My college started in-person classes in the latter half of August. By October, I started feeling tired, having a lack of appetite, and needing water very, very badly. I actually went to my school’s clinic, and my erratic heartbeat prompted the doctor to recommend me for a Covid-19 test. My school’s protocols meant that I had to quarantine at my home (since I live within two hours of campus) until I got a negative test result. At home, I was drinking water all the time and sleeping constantly, and my parents had commented on how I’d been losing weight. I thought these were all good things. I had been slightly overweight at my high school graduation, and I’d always heard that drinking a lot of water is good for you, so I thought I was actually in excellent health even if I kind of felt like shit most of the time.

Well. Uh. I was wrong.

When finals came around in mid-November, I was just fucking tired. I’d get a decent eight hours of sleep and still have to take naps during the day. Hell, I was even late for work because I slept through one of my nap alarms. Studying was a pain in the ass. Attending classes was a pain in the ass. Staying awake for Zoom classes was a pain in the ass. I was waking up at 5 am to go to the bathroom, and then I would drink the rest of my water, refill it, drink half of it again, and then go back to sleep. Finally, November 20th rolled around, and I got to leave campus. It was my birthday (yeah I am a Scorpio and that weirds all of my friends out lol), and my parents took me to Fusion. And I just...couldn’t eat at all? I love hibachi, but I couldn’t even eat half of my food. The chef even got me a delicious banana split that I had to basically bully my younger sister into eating with me.

For the next week, I was sleeping about 18 hours a day. I didn’t think this was weird because I’d just had finals so yeah, it makes sense that I would be tired after exams and whatnot. I went shopping with my mom, sister, and sister’s bff. We were only out for a few hours, but I was fucking wiped out y’all, like in pain. Thanksgiving arrived, and again, I love food, I love eating, but I was not hungry in the slightest. I basically had to force myself to eat some of my favorite holiday foods just so I wouldn’t offend my mom, and then I didn’t eat for the day.

The very next morning, I was puking my guts out.

This started a pattern for the next few days: I would eat chicken noodle soup or some other food, sleep like the dead, and throw up every morning and every night. I started chugging large bottles of Gatorade constantly (which, if you know about diabetes and its health complications, did not help my situation in the slightest). I started breathing erratically after very little exertion. Like, I’m talking standing up and stretching brought about heavy, labored breathing. I weighed myself on my parents’ scale, and I was under 130 lbs. Now, for some people this might seem like a lot, but due to my height and build I could fucking see some of my ribs. That was when I started to realize that something was very, very wrong, but “losing weight is good” and I didn’t want my parents to laugh at me for voicing concerns (though, for all their faults, in hindsight, I doubt they would’ve). Yeah. Don’t do that, folks, that’s not a good mindset to have. 

On Sunday, my mom took me to town to get tested for Covid. This was despite me saying that I didn’t have symptoms (which I knew very well due to some of my friends catching it at school). Rapid test came back negative, so I did a culture test. Hell, while I was sitting in the damn chair, I was about to pass out. I asked for a nausea pill but my mouth was too dry for it to dissolve. I got a cup of water, downed it all, and felt like my throat was on fire. For the rest of the day I felt so, so awful. At some point I was walking toward my bed in my room and I fucking fell. I’m fucking lucky there was carpet. 

Regarding the rest of that night, things start to get blurry, for the lack of a better term. I legitimately cannot recall everything that happened that night or the following two days, so I will just try to explain it in the way I remember it best.

Around...midnight or one??? I was on fucking fire, so I went to my bathroom and decided to lie on the floor. The floor was hardwood and not at all cold, and it wasn’t fucking comfortable even in that state, but I was just in so much pain I didn’t even care. My mom must’ve heard because she found me there and asked me what I was doing. I said something about the floor. She asked me to go back to bed, but I must’ve scared her because she asked me if I wanted her to lie in the bed with me. I don’t remember what I said to her, but we were in the bed and she was trying to hug me, but she was too warm and so I told her to stop. I kept feeling this burning just below my chest, like there was acid in me (which I guess wasn’t too far off), so I would randomly sit up to try and alleviate the pain and not cry. I remember asking my mom to take me to the hospital in the morning.

My mom put me in the truck (I think around 5 am is what she told me). I remembered hearing my dad. I was lying down. Then I was awake, but I was on the floor. I thought this was wrong so I tried to tell my mom that but I guess I couldn’t talk. Then I was in a hospital bed, the ER I assume. My mom gave me some water with a sponge, and I was just so fucking thirsty. Then I was in the ICU hooked up to a bunch of machines. I didn’t know what was going on, but my mom kept giving me water with that sponge. That is all I remember from Monday.

I remember a little bit more from Tuesday. My mom said something about diabetes, but that didn’t make any sense to me because I wasn’t “fat” and I’d been losing weight, even! What had I done to get diabetes? I was thirsty and tired, so I slept a lot. At some point I really needed to use the restroom so I unhooked my IV???? (I mean I must’ve disconnected myself somehow but I can’t remember the details) which set off a shit ton of alarms and people were Very Concerned and kept asking me Why Did You Do That? But I just needed to go to the restroom, and they told me to use the Red Button to Call the Nurse (it was already there, and I now realize that we’d probably had a similar conversation about the Red Button to Call the Nurse possibly multiple times before this) in the future. A Chopped Teen Tournament from 2017 was playing on the TV nonstop. There were commercials for CGMs. I thought that God wasn’t being very funny about the whole thing.

As of now I remember even less of Wednesday, but I know that felt better. There was this diabetes specialist who kept talking about insulin and life at college moving forward, but I wasn’t really there, either because of being so out of it for health reasons, disassociating, or a combination of the two. My mom told me she had emailed a professor so he would give me an extension on an assignment that was due by then, and I remember crying because I thought that was just so nice of him. That night, this guy got me in a wheelchair and put me in another room, which I would later learn was the ACU. My night nurse was this nice woman named Tanya, who had a very thick Eastern European accent. She got me orange juice to take some potassium pills, but it felt like swallowing rocks. I didn’t really get a lot of sleep, so I was awake when the nurses changed shifts. I remember one of them expressing surprise that I was out of the ICU so early.

My mom took longer to come that day because nobody had told her I’d been moved. I’d had plain Cheerios and orange juice for breakfast, but I couldn’t really eat because my throat hurt so badly. I talked to a lot of doctors. I guess at this point or somewhere near it I accepted that I had diabetes, but it wasn’t really real until the same diabetes specialist was going over carbs. I thought I was never going to eat shit I liked ever again. I really wanted a fucking McChicken sandwich. I signed some papers for Medicaid because I had aged out of the CHIP while in the hospital. I finally texted my friends and explained to them what had happened. I was so fucking tired.

I got out the next day, so that was Thursday. Normally, I would’ve been in the hospital much longer (especially because my Medicaid hadn’t been approved, meaning no insurance had approved of my insulin yet), but Covid cases were on the rise and the hospital wanted me out of there. The diabetes specialist and one of my nurses snuck me two fast-acting and two basal insulin pens, and I was out. I ate half a McChicken, a small fry, and drank my first Diet Coke. It tasted like diesel mixed with piss. 

That’s the gist of it. The hospital staff was very nice and thoughtful the entire time, I think. I felt as though everyone involved cared about my health a lot. 

For those of you who aren’t T1D or just don’t know, what I experienced is called DKA, short for diabetic ketoacidosis. To simplify, I was very close to entering a diabetic coma. My sister later told me that our dad had said (I assume a doctor had told my mother, who, in turn, had told him) that I was “approximately 45 minutes” away from death. DKA happens when a diabetic (usually a T1D like me) has too much blood sugar in their body due to them lacking the insulin necessary to break the sugar down, so their body breaks down their fat reserves and muscle to get the energy it needs. This is why I lost around 50 pounds over the course of a few months (I was 118 lbs. when I entered the hospital, the lowest I’ve been since grade school). I was officially diagnosed with T1D on November 30th, just ten days after my 19th birthday, which is a little older than normal I believe. It’s...well, it’s not fun, but I feel very grateful for my large support system, and tomorrow I’m trying out a CGM for the first time and applying for both it and a pump, so things are really looking up 

#personal #iamapincushion #t1d #type one diabetes #type one diabetic #dka #diabetic ketoacidosis #tw hospital #tw dka #i don't think you meant me for to respond with such a long answer #but #well #it's something i've been wanting to post for a while now and this seemed like a good opportunity

[unsaidholland]

carbonara | s. holland

“I promise.” prompt #26 in @t-holland2080​ ‘s writing challenge :)

this was so fun to write and participate in!!

warnings: none !

liam was the greatest boyfriend you could have ever asked for, that is until he completely ghosted you, deleted everything that you were in or had to do with you off his social media, and became active on tinder again. there were no words exchanged to insinuate the breakup, it just happened. 

you were left with so many questions and not enough answers. why would he leave me? what did i do wrong? the sad part is, not once did you ask how you could get him back. he was gone and you knew it, but he left his sweaters, he had left behind every single thing that would have reminded you of him. none of your friends knew why, and if they did they didn’t tell you. his friends hadn’t answered any of your texts. just like liam, they all had ghosted you.

maybe it was easier for you to pretend like he had never happened, but you were still processing everything. you couldn’t just forget him while you were figuring out what was happening. 

after a week of staying at home sulking, sam decided that enough was enough. he came by your apartment and told you to get ready because you were going to spend the day at his house. as much as you tried to refuse, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. he was ready to give up anything and everything to make you feel better. he was your best friend, and he took it upon himself to take care of you even if you couldn’t take care of yourself. 

you laid under the covers, on your side in full fetal position, in silence. you didn’t even realize your mom had let sam in, and that he was standing in your doorway until you heard a camera shutter. you sat up and looked over at the doorway to see sam standing there with his phone out. predicting what he was going to make you do, you laid back down onto your bed and pulled the duvet up over your head, earning a small chuckle from sam. 

“come on y/n, it’s been a week and you haven’t even left your house.” all sam was doing was stating facts. you didn’t need to hear this from one more person. you were heartbroken, but anyone would be able to tell. 

“go away sam,” you sighed out. you didn’t wanna go anywhere, and you were not planning on going anywhere, but then sam gave you an offer too good to turn down. 

“if you get out of bed and come over, i’ll make you all the carbonara you want.” how could you turn that down? he was willing to make you unhealthy, copious amounts of your favourite food. never mind the fact that it wasn’t healthy to only have carbs, it was the only thing that made you voluntarily get out of bed, put on a different change of clothes and get out of the house. 

soon enough you found yourself sitting on sam’s couch. the house was empty, his mom was out on a shoot, his dad was out having a meeting, and paddy was at school. tessa sat beside you as you were curled up under a blanket despite the sweater and sweatpants you were wearing. 

sam came back to the couch from the kitchen with two bowls of carbonara, one for him and one for you. murder on the orient express was playing on his tv as the two of you began to eat. neither of you were actually paying attention to the film playing on the tv. sam was waiting for you to open up, while your mind continued to race, thinking of all the possible answers to your questions. 

you took a bite of the pasta and closed your eyes as you relished the dish. sam always made the best food, especially since he started taking cooking seriously and chose to major in it in university. although you were always honest with him with his food, you always loved everything he made. you swore that he had to be your wedding caterer if possible. 

“sam, why did he leave me?” you asked, turning to face him. the bowl of carbonara sat in your lap, half-finished as the movie played in the background unnoticed. 

sam let out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “honestly y/n/n, he’s an idiot for leaving you. i don’t know why he did it, but,” sam paused, wanting to choose his words wisely, ”you’ll find someone better.” did sam have feelings for you? he didn’t know. he knew he would do anything for you, but that’s just what friends do, right?

“i’m sorry, this is stupid.” immediately you felt bad. sam was trying to cheer you up, but instead, your mind kept pulling yourself back into a constant cycle of overthinking. “i shouldn’t be thinking about him right now, not when you’re right next to me.” 

your words rang in his head. not when you’re right next to me. what did that even mean? “you’re allowed to be upset y/n, you just shouldn’t have to be alone. i’m here for you, always,” he said, voice getting quiet towards the end of the sentence. he was always there for you, you knew that and so did he, but he wanted to be there for you forever. he wanted you to stop crying over these guys who don’t know how to treat you properly, he wanted you to find the perfect guy just so you could be happy, he didn’t even realize it, but he wanted to be the one to make you happy. 

before he could even think, sam said, “every single time you want carbonara, i’ll make it for you. if you’re heartbroken, if it’s three am, if it’s the middle of the day, it won’t matter. i’ll make it for you.” he had put his bowl down on the coffee table, tessa being good and not eating it. he took your hands in his, looked into your eyes and said, “i promise.”

“don’t make a promise you can’t keep sam,” you said lightheartedly. did you want to take him up on this offer, yeah, of course you did, but you also learned from all the breakups you’ve been through that promises were made to be broken. that’s just the way the world worked, and unfortunately, you’ve fallen into its trap one too many times. 

“i swear to you, i’ll make you carbonara anytime.” his brown eyes shone with determination, determination that wasn’t hidden to you, determination that you picked up on immediately. unfortunately for you, sam was quite stubborn and set in his ways, and he knew he was going to make you give in. 

“i’m holding you to that samuel.” you turned back to the screen, not knowing where the characters were in the plot. your brain was focused on how he was willing to give himself to you through carbonara anytime you asked. 

•••

it had been five years since sam got you out of bed by making carbonara. a few months after that day, he finally realized his feelings for you. now, after dating for a year and ten months, everything stayed perfect. he went from your best friend to your boyfriend, to hopefully your future husband. 

he had a whole plan. he even asked your parents for permission to propose, not that he needed to, but because he wanted them involved in this process. both of your families had decided to go on a christmas/new years vacation together. before you knew it, you found yourself in bali with your family and your boyfriend’s family.

sam was riddled with nerves as you all went to the beach that day. the only person who knew about his plan out of all the hollands was harry, but to be fair, how could he hide anything from the person who has been with him before even being born?

“are you ready?” harry asked him, though he knew the answer. sam was never going to be ready, but he was itching to make it official. he can’t live without you.

“you know i’m never going to be ready, but i’m still gonna do it.” harry gently punched sam’s bicep.

“you got this.” harry smiled at his twin.

sam looked over at you at the volleyball net. sporting a pair of shorts and a blue bikini top, he watched as you were tossing the ball back and forth over the net with paddy. he saw the way his family just got along with you and how they all had accepted you into the family, but now it was time to make it official.

as if on cue, nicola had called paddy over, leaving you alone at the net. tom was in the ocean swimming, but harry had caught his attention, and he came back to where both sets of parents were sitting. sam was forever grateful that he had found a villa that had a private beach connected to it.

“hey love, let’s go sit with them,” sam said when he approached you. you nodded, immediately grabbing his hand. was sam even ready? was he prepared? he swore he practiced what he was going to say over and over again in the shower all the days leading up to this. though he knew he would never be fully prepared, he had a sense of hope that he would be more prepared than he felt now. 

everyone was lost in conversation, mostly talking about how nice the villa that you all had rented was, but harry looked at his twin and saw nothing but nerves and fear. sam thought for a second, here goes nothing. “wait guys can i say something real quick?” harry smiled as he realized what was happening. a chorus of ‘sure’s echoed between the families as he turned to you. 

“i honestly can’t believe we’re all here together in bali, but i actually had a surprise planned for you.” a confused look painted your face as the brown-eyed boy spoke. “i know we’ve only been together for less than two years, but this just feels right - our families together. i promised you years ago that i would make you carbonara whenever, but i have a few promises to add to that if you’d let me. i promise to always be there for you, to always make you happy, to always give you cuddles whenever you want. i promise to love you forever and always,” he paused to get on one knee, pulling the ring out from his pocket, causing everyone to gasp except for harry. “i swear to you, i’ll be the best husband you could have if you would marry me, y/n. so, will you marry me?” tears sprung at the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. you nodded, not being able to find the words to say. sam smiled, stood up, and captured your tear-streaked lips in a kiss, and when he pulled away, the diamond engagement ring was placed on your ring finger.

as your families celebrated over the engagement, you turned to him. “when we get home, can we have celebratory carbonara?” he laughed, nodded, and kissed you again.

#sam holland #sam holland x reader #sam holland x y/n #sam holland fic #sam holland fluff #sammy's summer writing challenge

[frangipanidownunder]

It’s Only Natural: fic

This is for @ellivia and @kega-umi who both requested  Person A has to come into Person B’s changing room and help them out of a particularly tight pair of pants, from the shopping prompts. Thank you! I had fun with this one.

It’s only natural, she tells herself. Quarantine meant lazy eating and half-hearted exercise plans that often ended up with a ‘full body workout’ (a Mulder euphemism) that, while vigorous, and (extremely) enjoyable, did not burn calories the way an hour cross-fit class might.

“You wound me, Scully,” he’d said, the first time she scolded him for cajoling her into their bed instead of the living room for a stretch and tone. His armoury included a wicked pout of his glistening lips, a lascivious wink and a wander of his fingertips along the ridge of each abdominal muscle. As she came a second time, she’d promised herself she would remove all carbs for a week. At least.

The denim slid up okay. She wiggled. She waggled. She shimmied and she jiggled. And then the jeans were up, snug at her lower back, moulded to her ass. The button was challenging but she supposed arthritis in one’s fingers was normal at her age, and the fabric hadn’t had a chance to stretch. She smoothed down the legs so the creases softened. Of course, they were too long.

Bending down to fix the stupid ruffles at her ankles was the moment she realised something was wrong. Not in the bee-sting kind of way, but in the too many just one more spoonful kind of way.

“All right in there, Scully?” he asked, nose peeking through the gap in the curtain. And she’d sent him away with a flap of her hand.

So here she is. Dana Scully, former FBI agent, scientist. Fucking. Doctor. Stuck in a pair of skinny jeans. When clearly SHE ISN’T SKINNY. The changing room is becoming claustrophobic, pressing against her limbs as she tries to undo the button and manoeuvre the pants back down. She stands up straight. Breathes. Looks in the mirror to find herself. She sees an angry old woman. Who the hell puts fluorescent strips over the mirror? Her skin is ghostly. Her hair is the rusty side of copper. A strip of silvery roots shines. Yes, SHINES. She rubs her cheeks, squeezes her eyes shut. Looks again. But nothing has changed. She could use some of Mulder’s effervescent optimism.

She turns away from the traitorous glass, shakes her hips side to side and tries to slip the jeans over the swell of her stomach but they refuse to budge.

It’s only natural. Weight gain in middle age, during menopause, is normal. It’s typical. She’s no different to any other fifty-six-year-old. Except she’s an FBI agent, a scientist, a fucking doctor. She rewrote Einstein. Yet she can’t take a pair of jeans off. She hooks her thumbs down the sides and yanks, but the jeans hold firm.

It’s only fucking natural. Rage boils in the pit of her fat gut. She stabs at the flab there. Turns back to the mirror and makes a smiley face from her navel. Does a Mulder impression. Do you think I’m spooky?

“Scully?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps.

“Right. How do they look?”

Her ass is certainly lifted by the confines of the material. From the back, she looks pretty good. But the bulge over the waistband and the ridiculously long legs make her look like a circus freak. Are there even circus freaks any more? She remembers The Enigma from that bizarre case years ago and briefly entertains becoming the ‘Dr Dana the Denim-clad Muffin Top’ for the rest of her years. Because she is never going to be able to extract herself from these pants. People might pay. There’s a porn site for every fetish.

“They’re a bit tight,” she says, wriggling again to no avail. Her sigh sounds like a fighter jet launching.

Mulder’s whole head appears through the curtains. “Ooh, hot.”

Not helpful. Not in the least. She exhales sharply and he pulls a face in response. But he doesn’t leave. “I need a bigger size.” It cuts to say it. Slashes. She’s bleeding out. Not in the heart being extracted by a psychic surgeon kind of way.

“I’ll get some for you.”

Fucking typical. He’s not even going to ask why. What is it with men? Don’t they get it? She’s known Mulder how long? Long enough for him to understand how hard it is for her to admit something like that. The least he could do is offer some comfort. “Fine.”

He leaves. Then comes back straight away. “It’s not fine though, is it, Scully?”

Fucking typical. Now the psychologist comes out. “I’m fine.”

“You didn’t say, I’m fine. You said, it’s fine. There’s a difference.” Are you shitting me? This is not how she likes her Mulder. “I’m feeling there’s something going on here but I haven’t quite worked it out.”

Before she can blast him out for his lack of investigative skills, he’s inside the changing room. There’s barely enough oxygen for one but with him in the tiny space she’s suffocating. He’s looking down on her. On to her shiny fucking roots. Her protruding gut. Her comedically short legs. Embarrassment leaves a red streak across her cheeks. Breathing hurts. Not just because the waistband of the jeans is digging in to her skin, but because her chest is tight with humiliation.

“I can’t get them off,” she whispers.

“What?” His face is so close to hers, she can feel his cheekbone scrape against her skin. Because of course he hasn’t put on an ounce of fat over the years. Just a bulk of muscle. And she’s not going to complain about that. But if he laughs. If he so much as cracks that beautiful fucking face of his…

She looks down at the floor. “I can’t get the jeans off. They’re…stuck.” Tears burn in her eyes and she feels doubly stupid. A fat old woman trying on a pair of too-small jeans and then CRYING about it.

“Hey,” he croons, lifting her chin with a gently finger. “We’ll figure it out.”

She shakes her head. The tears fly loose. She sniffs, cuffing the wet away with the heel of her hand and takes a ragged breath in. How dare he be so fucking understanding. “I’m fat, Mulder,” she says, leaning into his shoulder.

“No you’re not,” he says, kissing the top of her greying head. “You’re just giving me more to handle.” She slumps against him, half laughing then dissolving into tears again. “There’s always been too much of you for me, Scully. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

She bumps her head against his shoulder, then lifts her face to him. “These jeans are not just too small, they’re too long. They might even fit your chicken legs.”

His eyes slide down to the floor and he chuckles chestily. “I can’t believe how often I forget just how short you are, Scully. Because, as I said, you’ve always seemed so much bigger to me.”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“Yes, you’re figuratively enormous. Huge.” He slips his fingers down the back of the jeans and wriggles his wrists.

“Vast, gigantic,” she says, jiggling with his movements. The waistband stretches over her hips and with a pop slips under her buttocks, taking with it, her underwear.

“Impressive, grand,” he murmurs, pulling away from her as the pants fold open over her upper thighs and slide, along with the pale blue panties, down to her knees, “wholly magnificent.”

She’s bare before him. Not in a what are they, Mulder? way, but in a literal, naked-from-the-waist-down-in-a-changing-room-way. And the way he’s looking at her, the light in his eyes, the slight part in his lips, the want, everything else fades to nothing. There’s no sales assistant asking politely at the curtain if everything’s okay. There’s no security camera on the ceiling flashing a red intrusive eye at them. There’s no greys, no lines, no layers of quarantine fat. There’s just him and her and love.

It’s only natural, she thinks. And leans up to kiss his fat lips.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #xfficchallenges #challenge: shopping #post season 11 msr

[sound-of-the-cosmos]

30 day Whump Challenge prompts (2) Hunger

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: None (Sibling-like dynamic)

Summary: Connor notices the reader isn’t eating as much as they should and they’re struggling. It takes passing out and almost dying for the reader to understand it’s unhealthy.

Warnings: Major talk of an Eating Disorder; Please take caution reading this, and know if you need to talk, there are both professionals and people like myself who are willing to talk if you need to <3 stay safe

This account of an Eating Disorder is based off of things I have personally experienced. I hope as the reader, you can either relate or find comfort in this. My DM’s are always open if any of you need a safe place to talk.

Closing the bathroom door behind you, you place your shaky hands on the counter. You glance up at your reflection, and grimace. You were pale, and your face looked gaunt, but the same time, you saw something else. Someone else.

Her face was round, and her shoulders stuck out too far. Her stomach poked out over her jeans, and her arms shook with every movement. You sigh a little. That’s the reflection you were used to, and you’d been trying to change it for years. You finally buckled down 3 months ago.

It began with just limiting your calories. Soon after, it reached your carbs, sugars, and most things people would crave suddenly seemed repulsive to you.  

The scale said you’d lost over 20 lbs (approximately 9 kilos), but that couldn’t be right. There wasn’t a dent in the disgusting creature you saw in the mirror. 

You splash water on your face, and it grounds you again. You were somewhat dizzy, which you assumed may have been due to what you’d been doing. You hadn’t been eating much, if anything at all. 

Opening the door back into the police station, you glance around before hastily making your way into the little break room. You look up, and realize all of the mugs are on the top shelf. “Of fucking course..” Grumbling, you attempt to grab one, but they’re just out of reach.

“Allow me,” A calm voice cuts through the still atmosphere, and you jump, turning around. Connor stands behind you, and he seems to smile at you a little, before taking a mug, and holding it out to you. 

You swallow thickly. As much as you liked the android, you didn’t want him to see through you. Taking the mug, you quickly put it into the machine. As it fills with coffee, you throw a small smile over your shoulder. “Thank-” you take a breath. “Thank you.”

He studies you for a moment, before leaning in and whispers lowly, “Eat something soon, your nutrients are dangerously low.” You freeze, and nod a tiny bit, and he seems satisfied. 

As he turns, you let out a small breath. You couldn’t. Even if you wanted to now, you wouldn’t be able to. It had been over 2 weeks without a meal or snack of any sorts, and you were afraid if you would eat, it would only come back up. 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you pick up your mug. “Hey,” Gavin grabs your waist from behind, and you jump, before glaring at him angrily.

“I really don’t need this today, Reed.” You wouldn’t normally talk back to him, as he wasn’t worth your time, but your body hurt, and your temper was short. 

“Excuse me? What was that? The bitch wants to fuck with me today, huh?” His voice lowered an octave, and you turn on your heel, and pace back to your desk, Gavin following close behind you.

“Has anyone figured it out yet, pig?” He chuckles, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Fuck off, Reed.” Hit with a wave of dizziness, you grab the desk, your mug falling to the floor in your attempt to save yourself. Ears ringing, you swallow thickly, trying to clear them. 

You could distantly hear both Connor’s and Hank’s voice through the ringing, and everything starts to go black. 

.

.

.

Groaning, your eyes fight to open against the harsh lighting of the room you’re in now. The smell hits your nose- 

You were in a hospital.

A wave of panic surges over you, and you bolt upright. As the ringing subsides, you can hear a gentle voice cut through. “Y/n?” Connor..? What was he doing here? How did you get here?

Your gaze meets his, and a wave of embarrassment washes over you. “Fuck.. Oh jesus-” You let out a small sob, and hide your face as the tears spill. “I’m sorry- I’m so- I’m so sorry- Fuck-”

Connor takes your hand, and smiles a little. “Hey, look at me, please?” You slowly look up at him, uncovering your face. “You’re ok, it’s all ok.” His voice was calm, and showed something you didn’t think Connor had; emotion.

“I’m not sure why you treated your body so poorly, I’m still new to emotions, and I’m still learning how humans work. The doctors and my diagnostics program have realized that you have something called an Eating Disorder.”

You bite your lip, tears still spilling. “I didn’t-” You begin, sniffling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen-” 

He takes your hand. “I know; I’ll be here with you once you’re released, and Hank and I agreed it may be best if you live with one of us. So, with your permission of course,” He stops, and messes with his cyberlife tie. 

“I’d like to invite you to live with me. I won’t overstep any of your boundaries, I just want to help you get better. You were the first person on the force to treat me like I’m not just a machine.”

He smiles gently at you, a true, genuine smile. “I would like to be friends with you, and as your friend, help you through this.” 

You nod, before softly speaking. “Can- um- Am I allowed to hug you?” 

He laughs a little, before pulling you into one. “Of course.”

// I love whump too much; And this is not a pairing or a Connor x reader, this is more so a friendship/sibling bond than anything. My whump so far isn’t much, but I have a feeling as we go further into the challenge, it’s gonna be a lot more heart wrenching. 

#RK800 #Connor RK800 #RK800 dbh #dbh #Detroit become human #Connor detroit become human #Hank #Hank anderson #Hank dbh #Detroit become human hank #Gavin Reed #Reed #Gavin #dbh gavin #Detroit become human gavin #detective Douchebag #cyberlife #whump #angst #angst to fluff #dbh angst #dbh whump #Challenge #whump challenge

[sylph-feather]

Wordcount: 1515

Prompter: @feministhotline

Prompt: “I can’t help it, okay? I’m a halfa! ...I need this to survive.”

Notes: Not as long as it could’ve been, but I still quite like it and I hope you do as well! 

@currentlylurking for team Human 

Ghosts can go quite a long time without a recharge. It’s not something known to Danny. For once, this isn’t due to his inexperience; no, most ghosts don’t know.

This is because ghosts recharge naturally, just by being in the ghost zone— hence why they never strayed overly far from Amity Park’s borders despite the catastrophic potential of their spread. Some could get a temporary boost from emotional output, but it never lasted. Consistently as they grew further, they grew weaker, and when they were brutally beat down (perhaps by a certain Phantom) they needed that glowing green essence of their home.

Danny’s awareness of this came in stages.

The first stage was the weakening. He spent the first few months of his halfterlife mostly figuring stuff out; sure, fighting the (eventually relatively) weak ghost creature that came to haunt the halls, but even then he did that primarily with his fists (albeit floating).

The main usage of his powers was accidental; a dash of invisibility here, a sprig of intangibility there. Enough to stress him out emotionally, but nothing that drained his ghost side physically. Routine exercises for a ghost, especially one with a solid body it could take excess energy from.

The only compensation Danny had to do was eat a little more. Considering everything else that was going on, he didn’t even think to question it as a compensation for the energy of his ghost side, but saw it as something normal. After all, teens were bottomless pits, ghost side or no; it was a nice, familiar constant, a good normalcy.

...Even if, as the ghost fights increased, so did his hunger.

It starts as a little extra on his plate, a few bites more.

His parents notice when he starts to take double portions as he’s fighting more fully fledged ghosts. Bitterly, Danny just wonders if they notice through food shortage and bills; it’s not like they come up from the lab often.

Normally, he’d tell himself not to think about what they were doing in the lab when he was trying to eat, but now… now he’s just so hungry that the nausea just doesn’t matter.

“My son’s a growing boy!” Jack splutters, unspeakably proud as he claps Danny on his skinny shoulder, knocking some of that precious food out of his mouth. “Finally swimming in my end of the gene pool,” Jack laughs, puffing his chest up.

Danny takes in his father’s broadness, thinking of his own lithe style of fighting. I hope not.

The issue with them noticing is when the ghosts continue to escalate— because his intake thusly escalates… and not even to scale, as though his body previously was boosted just fine but the solution of food is temporary, at least to some degree.

Then it was just another worry on his shoulders. Another of those traits that constantly nagged and bit at him— When will your parents notice? When will they put it together?

When he voiced those concerns, the need to consume such noticeably vast quantities of food, Sam and Tucker unanimously shrugged.

“They’ll buy that teens are bottomless pits,” Tuck informed around a large burger (demonstratively of his statement, really).

“Your dad’ll just be happy that you’re,” Sam paused, inhaling, then continuing in the most Jack Fenton-ly deep voice she could muster, “filling out to be just like your old man!”

Danny managed a snort, eyeing his own burger, painfully hungry gut flipping in anxiety, but accepted it with a nod. After all, it wasn’t like his parents had noticed anything about him that was more obviously ghostly, and there were plenty traits to name.

It was as though the universe took offense at that thought, or perhaps at the idea of letting Danny Fenton live his life easily. It didn’t matter the motivation of the universe’s whims, it just mattered that the hunger escalated.

Danny was inhaling food 24-7 now, enough that his worries about his parents noticing were coming true. Granted, it had taken them quite a while, but eventually they noticed he was never without a carb heavy snack. He could only keep that on the down low so much, particularly since using his powers made his stomach twinge in its constant state of hunger.

It was getting worse, food just a temporary solution. Danny’d read enough on ghosts to consider the portal (he may have been a C student, but he wasn’t a total idiot)— but that didn’t work; it brought an energy buzz, but it didn’t sate the hunger. It wasn’t the solution either— though he’d find the real one soon enough.

A fight with Johnny had gotten out of hand, lead to Danny ways away from Amity after having chased that stupid ghostly bike down a road stretching into nowhere. Needy of help, Danny had shouted at Johnny, asking of hunger, and Johnny had just shrugged and said “ya should be gettin all that food from the zone,” and then he’d shrugged again and kickstarted his motorcycle into gear, riding off with a flare of green flames, tailed hotly by Danny Phantom.

Exhausted and grasping at his stomach, Phantom began the flight home, drifting in a wobbly way.

He paused his mental moaning and groaning when the air turned sweet, as though someone had set a flytrap of honey. The halfa narrowed his eyes, practically walking on the air as he attempted to locate its source.

...A deer. Smashed.

Smashed was one way to describe it. Another more gorey way existed; ribs exposed to a baking sun, maggot eggs rooted in seeping flesh, labored breathing that oozed blood with every huff. Full of effort, the doe turned an eye towards him, full of fear.

Smelling so good.

It was paradoxical; Danny was drooling unrelated to throwing up, even though he was doing that too.

Most strangely, it was his first experience of satiation in a month. Just being near the creature’s rotting flesh as it panted its life away was enough to bring fullness to his belly, even as he expelled all the food he’d eaten that day before he left.

Who to go to, Danny wondered in bed. His parents knew not about whatever that was— even ghosts hadn’t known, Johnny hadn’t known. A halfa thing? It was a tentative conclusion, but one likely enough to consider. After all, Johnny spent enough time in the human world to know enough about “ecto fatigue” (his parents dubbing of the phenomenon).

That, of course, left one person.

…Well, Vlad certainly couldn’t have him as his weird son if he starved to death, right?

—That was the leverage he was holding now, at least. “I won’t do it,” Danny informed him after Vlad gave more oozing offers of “well if you’ll just be my pupil.” “Besides,” he continued, “you seem to know what’ll happen— can’t be your son if I die fully, and do you really think dear Maddie will look to you if I do?” Danny made a retching noise to go along with his sarcasm.

Vlad gave in. “Follow me,” he hissed, sliding back into that role of authoritative power, a cocky rich man rather than a frustrated ghost.

Hesitantly, Danny trailed, easily following Vlad directly through the ground to his secretive basement (not so secret, given Danny knew about it too).

“What does this have to do with it?” Danny pondered, eyeing… cages. A little set of small cages— stuffed with squeaking, writhing rats. Some of them were laying in the corner of their cages— something told Danny they were unconscious, but not dead.

Danny recoiled at the deafening confined scrabbling. “Didn’t know you were one for pets.”

Vlad ignored him, phasing a hand through the cage to pluck a rat up, thumb resting against its small throat.

Danny was growing more uncomfortable with the way the gray rat in Vlad’s hand had its eyes blown wide with fear, tiny voice squeaking as it squirmed. Tittering and shuffling and feeling much like the rat, Danny just ran his mouth— “what, you got a snake instead of a cat? Or maybe your cat caught all of these, instead? Or—“

The squeaking became more frantic, and Danny’s blue eyes snapped to the rat in Vlad’s grip. His thumb was pinned to the thing’s throat, cutting off its air, causing it to panic.

Slowly, its struggles stilled, each cry becoming more wheezy, each movement of its tiny paws becoming more leaden.

The sweet smell returned, and Danny breathed it in involuntarily— and felt full again.

Vlad smiled sharply, edging his grip off the things throat. It breathed, but was knocked out— the man callously tossed it back into the cage. Danny’s blown eyed gaze followed it.

“We can’t help it,” he crooned in a faux gentle voice, honey and oil oozing from it equally, “we’re halfas. We need something on the brink, like us; not fully dead, not ghost energy nor meat. Neither would completely do it.”

Danny stared at the unconscious rat, and he was the one breathing hard, pain in his lungs rather than his stomach.

#dp #dp fic #phic #danny phantom #danny phantom fic #danny phantom fanfiction #quill #my writing #phicphight20 #phic phight 20

[need-a-fugue]

Why Not? - Chapter Two

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: Bit of angst, mostly fluff.

Chapter Two

“We just want to check the throttle shafts,” Bucky murmurs, bent low and looming over her tiny shoulder, pointing at the carburetor. “See? Right here. See that groove in it?” He cocks his head to watch her as she closely investigates, bright blue eyes a mirror of his own as they narrow, searching for the divot. A hint of her bubblegum tongue peeks out from the corner of her mouth as she tries to find the elusive mark. He feels a sudden swell of warmth collect in his center – in his chest, where this precious little girl lives, forever entwined with his heart – and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a crooked grin.

She nods firmly, one single, definitive bob of her head. “Yep.”

He pulls upright, dropping a steadying hand to her back as she leans even closer to get a better look. “That is our problem.”

“Oooh,” she breathes out, tone utterly genuine.

He takes a step back and watches as she gingerly pokes at the carb, careful not press too hard with her perfectly pudgy forefinger. And again he smiles, crooked and wistful, as he thinks back to the very first thing his father ever taught him about cars – and damn was there a lot that the old man had taught him. It was how to clean the carburetor. He was nine, maybe ten years old. And since that time he’d cleaned out, rebuilt, and replaced hundreds of carbs.

Of course, most of today’s cars are different beasts altogether, fuel-injection engines taking over and all but eliminating the pleasant pastime of solving puzzles like this. Nowadays it seems like he barely gets to solve anything at all. With a million and a half electronic sensors over every inch of every vehicle, always spinning out error codes and warnings, most of his time at the shop is spent plugging in a computer to read an error and then ordering some ridiculously expensive new sensor for a pain-in-the-ass repair that should take little more than twenty minutes, yet somehow takes up the whole damn day because some genius engineer decided to bury the tiny damn sensor under a dozen other damn parts that are damn near impossible to remove!

If Bucky had a dollar – even just one measly little dollar – for every time he chucked a tool and stormed off in frustration when working on some Mercedes or Audi or other fancy piece-of-shit car, well, he’d be able to buy Steve out of his half of the garage.

He’s pulled suddenly from his wandering reverie by the steady tap-tap of hard-soled shoes on the concrete floor. He straightens quickly, tearing his eyes away from his little girl just long enough to catch a glimpse of the woman approaching.

A subtle, ahem falls from her lips, followed by an almost nervous sounding, “Oh, hi,” when she sees him peek out from behind the car. “Hi.”

Bucky recognizes the woman immediately, despite the form-fitted suit and classy looking heels she’s wearing in lieu of her more typical cutoff shorts and T-shirt. “Hey,” he says, wide grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Bronco, right?”

She nods, bright smile splitting her face and setting off the deep dimples that he – for some inexplicable reason – remembered resided on either side of that pretty, full-lipped mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, you remember me?”

“Course,” he says with a nod of his own, his hand falling down to the shoulder of the little girl beside him, tugging her back a bit as she pitches forward on her stool and nearly topples into the engine compartment. “’75 Bronco wagon,” he announces, casually righting the kid and holding her steady without ever taking his eyes off of the woman. “Don’t see many of those around. Especially in the city.”

Her expression falters just a bit at the realization that he remembers her car more so than her. But she recovers quickly, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder and stating simply, “Yeah, that’s my baby.”

He frowns suddenly, quickly wiping down his hands and stepping around the car to approach her. “Something wrong? Everything looked good when we did the oil change a few weeks back.”

“Oh,” she nearly exclaims. “Yeah. No. I’m… I’m not here for…” She steps closer, her fingers lazily trailing along the side of the Cobra, eyes ticking down to her feet as her cheeks gain a peculiar rosy blush. “I’m Mr. Stark’s personal assistant.” She reaches out a hand as though prepared to shake – as though they hadn’t already met before… over a blown-out tire, some rusted paneling, a busted transmission, and an oil change that she damn well could’ve done herself. “Annie.”

His eyes linger on her outstretched hand for a long moment before finally accepting the greeting. “Annie, huh?” he asks, kicking himself for not knowing that already, for having somehow committed her face to memory – and her car – but not her name.

She sputters nervously for a beat, about to correct herself – Angela – mentally tearing herself a new one for using her childhood nickname instead of the adult moniker that a woman should go by, when a scuffle and a squeal sound from behind the hood of the car as the little girl awkwardly hops down from her stool, shouting at a rather piercing level, “I’m Lana!”

Bucky steps back and grabs her by the arms to steady her and settle her on the firm ground, nudging the wobbling stool to keep it from tipping. He shakes his head fondly as she scurries over to the woman, bouncing on her heels in front of her.

Annie’s face seems to light up, her bright green eyes going wide and crinkling at the corners as she drops down to the four year old’s level. “Lana, well it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, extending her hand for a shake.

The girl accepts, dark ringlets bouncing in time with the body-quaking handshake she offers. And the corners of Bucky’s lips inadvertently tick up.

“Lana,” Annie repeats languidly, letting the two syllables dance over her tongue. “What a beautiful name.” The little girl lets out another giggle and releases her hand, hopping away, back to her father’s side. Annie watches her go for a moment, still grinning sunnily, before rising and slinking around the car, lazily tracing a finger over the fenders until she gets to the front and peeks under the hood. “How’s she coming along?”

“Not bad,” Bucky breathes out as he leans back and wipes his hands on a rag. “Think we might need to replace the throttle shafts. Right, baby?” he asks, glancing down at the kid by his side and giving her a little bump with his hip.

She hops back to avoid the hip check and gives her father a pointed don’t do that glare, the look being almost identical to the one he’s received on countless occasions from her mother. He stifles a laugh and rolls his eyes, ticking his chin at her to indicate that he’s still waiting on a response. She heaves a giant sigh and gives a definitive nod, lips tightly pursed, brow slightly furrowed. “Yes,” she states, very matter-of-factly before returning her gaze to the woman now reaching into the engine compartment.

“It’ll probably just be another day or two,” he tells her. “We should have everything I need, but I still want to check out the turbo.” He bends down, dropping a knee to take a quick glance beneath the car. “And I’d like to get her up to take a look at the suspension.”

“As long as you can get her driving like she used to,” she says. She looks down at him for a brief moment before her eyes narrow and tick to the side, a rather mirthful glow filling them to the brim.

Before he can turn to catch a glimpse of what she’s looking at, tiny arms attack him from behind, his little girl throwing herself into his back – from a full run, he’s sure – and gripping tightly around his neck. He pitches forward, awkwardly catching himself with one hand while his other moves to loosen her fingers and free his windpipe. Maniacal giggles echo in his ear, but all he can see is the bright, gentle smile of the woman standing above him.

He clears his throat once Lana’s grip slackens and reaches around to hoist his baby higher on his back, standing effortlessly and letting out a single rich laugh when her giggles turn to a swift shriek of excitement. She lets out a small oof and settles her arms around his shoulders, curling her warm body around him. “Sorry,” he murmurs, a bit bashfully. “There was an incident at daycare. We don’t usually let little monsters run free around here.”

Annie bites back a laugh, actually chewing the corner of her mouth to do so, and says simply, “I wondered why we hadn’t met before.”

He cocks his head at the woman, only just now registering what she had said about the car a moment ago. “You drove this?” he asks her, his voice carrying a hint of surprise as he casually bounces in place to keep his monkey-girl amused.

She chuckles lightly as she watches the little girl’s face continue to shine. “Yeah,” she breathes out. “Got a soft spot in my heart for Mustangs. We’re a Ford family.” Her eyes flicker over to meet Bucky’s. “My dad had one… a ’67 Shelby GT.”

“Ooo,” he intones with a hiss. “Nice.”

“Yeah. We restored it together. He’s still got her, though she’s trapped in his garage,” she says with a frightful countenance as she looks over at Lana and successfully pulls a giggle.

Bucky gives his girl another bounce and cranes his neck to look behind him. “Wanna tell her what���s living out back in our garage right now?”

She shoots her head out from behind her father’s, giant toothy grin on her face as she states proudly, “Stingray. 19…” Her voice fades off as she gives a dismissive shrug.

“68,” he supplies.

“Wow,” Annie responds, drawing out the word and nodding appreciatively, never taking her eyes off of the little girl’s satisfied face. “You’re really lucky.”

“Well,” Bucky starts, self-deprecating smirk blooming, “it’s not exactly – ”

“Lana!” cuts him off mid-thought, the call tumbling in from the back bay. Bucky spins to see Peter hopping towards them, goofy smile on the disheveled teen’s face as he approaches. “Hey,” he says, locking onto the little girl’s eyes as she peeks out over her dad’s head. “It’s lunch time. I thought you were gonna eat with me.”

She twists and tugs in an attempt to scurry off her father’s back, and he grunts out a, “Wait,” as he awkwardly dips to lower her to the floor. “Pete,” he mutters, standing back up and glancing at the kid. “How’s the Mazda going?”

“Oh, fine, Mr. Barnes,” he declares simply, giving a small nod as Lana takes a firm hold of his hand.

“Pete-er,” she corrects haughtily. “There’s a er, Daddy.” She tugs and pulls at Peter until he relents and lets her drag him over to her new friend. “That’s Annie.”

“Hi, Annie,” he says with a grin and a wave.

“She’s Stark’s assistant,” Bucky mutters with a raised brow.

“Oh, wow,” he intones, countenance lost somewhere between shock and intrigue. “That must be… something.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes it’s hell. Sometimes… heaven.”

“Pete,” Bucky starts before staring his little girl down and tacking on the, “er… wants to work for your boss someday.”

“Well, I mean… yeah…” the kids stutters out. “You know… maybe… I mean…”

Bucky chuckles lightly, catching a glimpse of the boy’s bright pink cheeks from the corner of his eye. He rocks back on his heels, shit-eating grin on his face as he goes on to say, “It’s all he’s been talking about since he showed up here with that Vette a few weeks back.”

Annie’s eyes narrow. “He brought the Corvette here?” she asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Needed some body work. Passenger’s-side door, some paneling.”

The narrow gaze flips in an instant, eyes blowing wide. “He damaged the Corvette?” she asks, tone positively aghast.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, looking down as Lana grabs hold of his wrist and gives a swift, firm tug. “Something about parking in the city. What, baby?” he asks distractedly.

“I’m hungry,” she whines, hanging off of him and leaning back so far that her hair almost touches the ground.

“Your lunch’s in the fridge. Peter’ll help,” he tells her, voice low and soft as he gives the teen a swift nod and hands her off, watches as the two head back to the office. He turns back around just in time to see the shock on Annie’s face finally begin to wane, utter bewilderment filling in behind it. He laughs despite himself, the twist of her features, subtle crinkle of her nose as the gears so obviously click and sputter and turn inside her head. “No clue, huh?”

Her eyes pop up to meet his, suddenly freed from their ruminating. “Sorry,” she sputters. “No.”

His own brow twists in confusion as he recalls something the cocky billionaire had mentioned on that first visit to the shop. “He said his assistant recommended us. Was that you?”

Her mouth gapes open, bobbing helplessly for a long, silent moment as a deep red blush begins creeping up her neck. “Well, I mean… yeah. I… I mentioned you… Because I use you. I mean… not use you. I mean…”

He feels a laugh bubble up his chest, his jaw suddenly aching from holding a smile so wide and stretched. “You okay there, doll?” he asks through the chuckle, for some reason absolutely delighting in her sudden discomfort.

“What?” she bleats. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

He narrows his eyes at her suspiciously, though he’s not quite able to keep them from crinkling at the corners as amusement continues to wash over him. “What exactly did you mention to him?” he asks coyly, taking a single deliberate step forward. The blush blazes then, firing up her cheeks, extending to the very tips of her ears as her eyes dart frantically around the room.

“I don’t… what do you mean?”

It had been a long, long time since Bucky had made a girl blush, made her practically buzz with nervous yearning just from a look. Or at least it had been a long time since he’d taken notice of it. Natasha and Steve were always telling him, trying to point out to him the effect he has on women. She was totally flirting with you. That woman was eye-fucking your brains out. Stop being so dense. But, really, those two are more desperate to get him laid than he’d ever been himself. They’d say just about anything to get him to move on, move forward with his life. And let them live theirs.

And besides, he knew. Back in the day – the days before dirty diapers and marital strife and a struggling business – he hardly ever spent a Saturday night in his own bed. Or if he was in his own bed, there sure as shit wasn’t a cold, empty spot beside him.

But that was the old Bucky Barnes. It might’ve been a mere five or six years in calendar time, but to him it seemed like a lifetime ago.

And yet, when that old grin he used to wear – the cocky, teasing, suggestive crooked tilt – perks his lips in a familiar pull, it feels utterly natural. Just like muscle memory.

He takes another step closer, his eyes trailing down to Annie’s exposed clavicle, the part of her body where the blush tapers off to show subtly tanned flesh peeking out from beneath a pale pink silk blouse. “You said you mentioned me,” he reminds her, quirking an eyebrow as he locks onto her deep green eyes, the color eerily similar to the pristine paint job on the Cobra at their side. “To Stark… what’d you tell him?”

She clears her throat, blinking only once to collect her composure. The bright red remains splashed across her skin, but her eyes settle on his, her once agape mouth pulling into a tight, firm line, twisting up at the edges to show off the effort being put into biting back a smile. “I told him,” she starts, small, subtle lilt to her voice. “That you were great with the Bronco.” His brow lifts higher, a silent invitation for her to go on, and she cocks her own high to match. “And that you were cute. And that I might… I don’t know…” She shrugs, her gaze ticking away for just a fraction of a moment. “Be… interested.”

He nods slowly, appreciatively, and does his best to shift his face into an impassive mask. “You told Tony Stark I’m cute?”

She snorts out a laugh, loud and utterly undignified. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

His brows twist together, face pinching tightly in a sudden realization. “He was checking me out. Sizing me up,” he mutters vaguely, lips parting as he huffs out a quick, “Huh.”

“I didn’t tell him to,” she says abruptly, pitching forward onto her toes, seeming a little too enthusiastic with her denial. “I never asked… I mean…” She shakes her head and breathes out a laugh. “He gets sort of attached to his assistants. The ones that last anyway. He’s getting ready to marry one of them.”

Bucky’s mouth clamps shut, lips curling into a frown.

She laughs again. “I didn’t mean…that made him sound sort of creepy. No, it’s just… when you devote yourself to work all the time, the only real friends you make are, you know, at work.”

“So Tony Stark is your friend. And your boss. And your… matchmaker?”

“No,” she bleats out. Then, “Maybe,” amid a rather perplexed look. She shrugs. “He means well.”

“He put me through the fucking inquisition,” he mutters, feeling suddenly nervous. He brings an open palm to the back of his neck, scratches wildly at his scalp as his face twists. “Did he… did he tell you that? Or… tell you anything?” he asks, thinking back and trying to recall just how many bullshit answers he gave the man, how many irritated glares and fabricated stories.

A brilliant smile rolls over her face, one that somehow manages to immediately put him at ease, his fingers slowly slipping from his hair and back down to his side, casually tucking into his pocket. “He just told me that he gave me an in… and then said I should go check on the Cobra.”

“Ah,” he breathes out simply, rocking back on his heels.

“So,” she drawls out languidly before beginning to awkwardly pivot back and forth on the balls of her feet. Her hands clasp tightly behind her back, eyes nervously roaming the floor for a brief moment before rising to meet his. They seem to lighten two full shades as they lock onto his – admittedly – curious gaze. “Can I buy you dinner?”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #ldamc #dad!bucky #bucky barnes x original #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfiction #bucky x oc #avengersau #marvelau #bucky x original female character #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc

[jackbabewang]

Prompt of the Day

Person B spending all their money on Person A, who scolds them for it.    

Freshening up and getting ready for the once-a-week brunch date with your boyfriend, out of the blue you spotted a black paper bag with a significant white ribbon proudly hanging between your clothes rack. Certainly the brand is not within your league and never had you ever visited the boutique itself. How on earth did that happen to make a place in your room? 

Taeyong eyed you from head to toe, your wrist in particular and a frown settled between his brows in awareness, “Do you not like it? I can get you another-” 

So it’s him! Well, of course. Who else could it be. It took you a moment to realize what he was mentioning at first, and it took you another moment to remember that he was acting weird last night—he insisted to wait for you to fall dead asleep before he left.

“Tae, just this once alright? You know you don’t have to, and I don’t need it either. Look,” you showed him the silver band on your right ring finger saying that, “I’m perfectly fine with this, aren’t I?” It was of a sterling silver that you and him both picked out as a promise ring from a jeweler in the middle of Myeongdong and it was four years ago. What you had were more than enough, and the crystal pearl chain bracelet that you took a peek earlier this morning, with a little research done—it costed at least a month of someone’s salary. That’s mental!

“Promise me you’ll like it and wear it,” he demanded.

“I’ll promise you if you promise me that you’ll not spend unnecessary money on things like that ever again.”

“It’s not unnecessary when it’s for you! What if-”

“C’mon Tae, stop talking, I’m hungry.”

You propped yourself on the table and humming to the chilling tune of music coming from the hidden speakers, while waiting for Taeyong to get back from the cashier. It was a great afternoon so far, classical scene of glorious sunshine and birds chirping, until a tray of meticulously hand-decorated confections unveiled before your eyes. It should be a sight to behold, it had to be. Yet you still couldn’t help but do the maths in your head, it was a pricey café to begin with. 

This man loved his pastries a little too much...

“Well... what are you waiting for? Dig in, babe” he was reaching for a cake generously stuffed with cream filling but you slapped the back of his hand before he could. 

“How are we gonna finish all of these?” you hissed. You loved food, not gonna lie, however it was a little too much and partially you were concerned with how costly they were for these fancy rolls or slices of carbs. He literally went on a buying binge 

“Everything looks good in here and I just can’t help it,” he grinned like a kid in a candy store, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” 

With words sugar-coated from Taeyong as sweet as the donut delivered into your mouth, once again you were persuaded and the tiny fit of temper you had before dissipated.

Or not.

Because then a waitress came over to your table, and laid down two glasses—caffè mocha for you and americano for Taeyong—pretty sure they were wildly expensive compared to the ones you often grabbed at a small coffee shop in your neighbourhood. It definitely killed the mood for being petty and stingy when it came to dating, in general, but those were never what you wanted in a relationship. Both you and Taeyong were still university students living on a budget and you could hardly afford the riches, so how the hell did he get all the money he spent so recklessly?

You sighed a heavy sigh, “Lee Taeyong...”

And he seemed panic-stricken when you called him by his full name, “I swear this is the last-”

“Give me your wallet.”

“Babe, please don’t be mad or anything-” his hands clasped and giving you the puppy eyes he’d mastered. 

You repeated with a stern voice (one you’d mastered as well) and he immediately fished out the said fortune bag from his pocket with shaky fingers.

“I’m keeping this for now. Don’t even think of buying anything without my permission,” you knew you sounded like an abusive wife or something but you had to keep your man from going broke because of his constant pampering. 

...though a mailman visited you regularly in the following weeks with parcels, big or small. 

#nct taeyong #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct fluff #taeyong fluff

[everlarkficexchange]

Why Do I?

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 53: Everlark have been friends for a long time. Then this exchange happens. Person A: Why Do I even like your dumb ass? Person B: Huh? Person A: *panics* I SAID YOU HAVE A NICE ASS. [submitted by @iliveilaughiloveiread]

Rating: M

Summary: Peeta’s in love with his roommate Katniss. She thinks he has a really good set of buns. All puns intended.

Author’s note: Thanks for the prompt, @iliveilaughiloveiread. I had a lot of fun writing their banter.

“Peeta?”

“Kitchen!”

I hear Katniss throw her keys on the table in the entryway. It’s rare I know she’s there before she sneaks up on me. She’s so quiet I’ve lost track of the number of times she’s scared the shit out of me. I may have dropped a few trays of baked goods on the floor and jumped and screamed like a little girl when she’s tackled me with bear hugs and tickles. The squeals I make when her fingers slip under my shirt are so far from masculine it’s embarrassing, but I wouldn’t trade her hands on my skin for anything.

“What are you doing here, Mellark?” she asks in her throaty chuckle. “You’re not usually home on a Wednesday afternoon.”

“The kid cancelled again,” I answer, referring to the ten-year-old boy I typically tutor mid-week.

“Ah. So, it’s just us,” she replies before crossing to me and snuggling against my side. I lift both hands in the air and hug her with my elbow.

“Sorry. Cookie batter.”

She shrugs away, slumps onto a stool, and leans over the counter to observe. “Sugar?”

“Yes, Dumplin’?”

I grin at her laugh. I’m glad she’s finally rediscovered it. It’s been such a recent thing, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.

“Sugar cookies?”

“Ohhhh… You’re only interested in my baked goods. Maybe I can whip up some buns for you later.” I turn my back to her and clench my ass several times until she begs me to stop. When I turn, her gray eyes sparkle with mirth, and a rare smile graces her beautiful face. When she finally chokes back her laughter, she covers her mouth with her hand and murmurs something.

“Huh?” I can’t have heard her right. There’s no way, but it’s too tempting to let go. “Why do you like my dumb ass? Is that what you said?”

She freezes, and her eyes widen slightly. She gulps several times before blurting, “I didn’t say that! I said, ‘you have a nice ass!’”

“Oh, reeeeeeally?”

“Shut up!” she barks and sprints from the kitchen. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slams, and I sigh heavily.

Katniss Everdeen will be the death of me. I’ve loved her since Kindergarten, and I have no idea how I got so lucky to be her best friend. Well, technically, I do. She used to only talk to Madge Undersee, the daughter of a local politician, and Gale Hawthorne, brooding outdoorsmen who made all the girls in our high school swoon until he graduated and enlisted in the Marine Corps. When Gale left and Madge moved to the state capital after her father became a senator, Katniss drifted through the hallways between classes like a ghost. It only took me three months to work up the nerve to approach her in the lunchroom and ask if she’d like company. Another five weeks passed before she agreed to hang out with me outside of school. Three years later, she said yes when I asked her to be my roommate during college, and we haven’t lived apart in the seven years since. It’s been the best decade of my life.

Except for that pesky little being-in-love-with-her thing. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Other than the hugs she gives me, we rarely touch. The most vulnerable she’s ever been with me was when her sister was in a car wreck a few years ago and went into the hospital. Katniss fell apart that night, and I did everything I knew how to do to comfort her. I wish I could do it every day.

I wish a lot of things I’m sure will never happen. Kissing her lips. Seeing her naked. Sinking into her and losing myself. Hearing her breathy moans when she comes. My ring on her finger. Marriage. Children. Grandchildren. Growing old together. Sharing a last name.

“Give it up, Bread Boy,” I mutter. “She’s never gonna love you that way.”

I turn my attention to the cookies. The timer dings, and I pull the first batch from the oven and let them cool while I mix several different colors of icing. Minutes turn into an hour as I decorate batch after batch. I’m just finishing the last few when I hear her behind me.

“I’m hungry. You want to grab dinner?”

I’m careful to keep my face blank when I turn and take in her beautiful face. She’s vulnerable and trying not to show it. Her gray eyes are haunted, and she’s wringing her hands. As much as I’d like to tease her, she doesn’t need that right now. She’s needs reassurance and understanding.

Sometimes it sucks to do the right thing instead of pushing for what I want.

“Always,” I answer quietly and wait for her to meet my eyes. “What sounds good?”

“Carbs.

“You want bread, huh? Maybe a little bun action?” I absolutely have to wiggle my ass. In fact, I have to back up to her and shake it some more. Her face floods with color, and I wink at her.

Sometimes it’s amazing to do what I want. Screw the right thing.

“You are the worst,” she grumbles, and I laugh at her discomfiture.

“I am, but I will feed you if you’ll help me clean up the kitchen.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of work.” She crosses to me and bumps her shoulder against my arm. Without thinking, I tug her to my chest and nestle her head underneath my chin. She wraps her arms around me, and I kiss her on the crown of her head. When she relaxes, I squeeze her until she yelps.

“You’re a lot of work,” I joke and let her go. Beyond pleased, I hide my grin at the chagrined look on her face. Maybe, just maybe, she might like me a little more than I’d realized.

****

Two days later, I come home to her car in the driveway. She’s not expecting me, I’m sure, since I was supposed to have dinner with my older brother. I didn’t bother to text her when he bailed. Instead, I decided to surprise her, so I sneak inside the house and attempt to be as quiet as possible walking down the hall. I’m about as graceful as an elephant on roller blades, so I’m surprised she doesn’t call out to me.

Her door’s open, and I can hear rustling as I approach. I pause and try to figure out if she knows I’m out there when I hear her moan. Perplexed, I peek around the doorjamb and my mouth drops open. Her legs are splayed, and her eyes are closed. Her left hand grips the headboard, and her right is shoving a piece of plastic between her legs. It takes me a second to realize it’s vibrating. She moans louder, and my eyes widen.

Katniss Everdeen is masturbating. In our house. With her door open. And I can see her.

I jerk back into the hallway quickly and stand frozen to the spot. It feels terribly wrong to stay where I am, but I’m even more terrified to move and alert her to my presence. It’s a form of exquisite torture to listen to her as her breath quickens. She’s more vocal than I expected, and I’m horrified when my dick twitches in response. Every sound from her makes me stiffen, and my jeans tent higher the longer I listen.

She curses and groans for several more minutes, and I’m powerless in her spell. My dick throbs, and I allow myself a little bit of relief by rubbing myself through the denim. I absolutely cannot jack off in the hallway. It’s unacceptable to get off to her private act. Unforgivable.

I’m about to throw all my ethics to the wind when she releases a strangled moan. It’s obvious she’s climaxing, and I can’t stand it anymore. I turn and rush from the house, praying she’s too involved in coming to hear me.

I try to calm down, but I can’t. Stumbling to the side of the house, I duck behind the honeysuckle bush that’s big enough we’ve joked it could be a secret hideout for neighborhood kids. Thankfully, no one’s there, and I grunt as my hand fists my cock.

Echoes of the erotic sounds Katniss made ping in my head, and I can’t erase the image of her fucking herself with silicone. Hunched and desperate to finish before she realizes my car’s in the driveway, I imagine her screaming my name as I tug and stroke. A stiff breeze rustles the bush shielding me from the rest of the world, and I bite my bottom lip as a thick rope shoots from me and stains the green leaves and white blossoms. The sickeningly sweet scent mingles with the smell of sex, and I shudder as I give one last squeeze and release. Quickly, I tuck back into my jeans and wipe my hand on the inside of my t-shirt. I’ve got to get back inside.

I’m frazzled when I stumble through the front door. Making as much noise as I possibly can, I call out her name and wash my hands in the kitchen sink.

“I didn’t hear you pull up,” she says from behind me, and I jump. She’s snuck up on me again.

“Huh,” I reply, desperate to appear normal. “I was out there for a while. Checking email and stuff. You know.”

“Yeah?” She arches her eyebrow and shrugs. “Slow at work, so I’m off tonight. Your plans fell through?” When I nod, she asks, “Want to watch basketball? Have dinner?”

“Sure.”

Watching sweaty men run up and down a court handling balls seems like the perfect remedy to forget how much I love the woman standing in front of me who was naked and writhing in her bed only a few minutes ago. Either that, or I’m in hell.

****

Five days later, I know I’ve entered another dimension that’s been created specifically for self-torture. I haven’t slept through the night since I saw her. I wake myself from erotic dreams and keep a roll of paper towels next to the bed to erase the evidence. I feel like I’m twelve again—unable to control what happens between my legs and experimenting every time I’m alone. I’m embarrassed by my constant state of arousal, and it’s getting harder to hide from Katniss—literally and figuratively.

I’m in the shower jerking myself with a soapy hand when she knocks on my bathroom door.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah!” My arm twitches with tension. I’m almost there.

“Hey, can you give me a ride home from work today? Getting that wheel replaced I messed up a few weeks ago.”

Her voice washes over me like velvet, and my hand moves of its own volition. I’m so close. So, so close.

“Peeta, you okay?”

She’s inside my bathroom. I can tell by the sound of her voice.

“Yeah,” I sputter. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” I groan as heat rips through me. Two more strokes, and I come. I suck in my breath and choke. I can’t breathe as I cough and sputter, and her hand appears at the corner of the curtain.

“Peeta!” Alarm evident in her voice, she warns me of her intention, and I have a split second to cover my crotch with a washcloth before she peeks around the corner. Her eyes narrow as I continue to hack, and I raise my right hand to cover my mouth. I slip slightly and brace my left on the wall, leaving the washcloth draped over my very prominent erection, which she’s clearly just noticed.

“H-holy shit,” she stammers. “I’m so sorry. I—” She bolts from the bathroom, and I rip back the curtain, grab a towel, and stagger after her on shaky legs.

“Katniss! Wait!”

She’s wide-eyed and frozen in the hallway when I emerge from the steam-filled room. The towel still tents slightly, but the absurdity of the situation and my recent ejaculation has deflated my hard-on significantly. I’m as mortified as she is until I realize I’m dripping wet and only in a towel in the hallway with the love of my life.

“You were choking,” she blurts. “It sounded like you were dying.”

“I know. It’s fine.” I rush to assure her I understand.

She stares at my chest, and I almost cover myself before I realize she seems completely dazed. Water droplets run down my stomach, and her eyes follow them. I’m not sure what to say, so I remain quiet, hoping somehow things won’t get any more awkward than they already are.

“I shouldn’t have…I mean, I didn’t know you were… I, uh… Yeah.”

I reach for her shoulder, and my towel shifts. Her eyes widen as I grasp it closed. Her eyes lift to mine, and I’m struck at the wonder in them. Frozen for several seconds, I study her until she takes a step toward me. And then another. And another until she lifts her hand and grazes her fingertips across my stomach. I suck in air and hold it while she traces the curve of my torso.

I exhale in a rush when she toys with the edge of the towel and tugs it from my skin. I let go, and the damp cloth pools at my feet. Her eyes rake over me, and the hunger is raw when she finally meets my eyes.

“I…” The words get caught in her mouth, and I watch her for a sign before leaning down and brushing my lips against hers. I don’t dare open my eyes until I feel her arms slide around my back, and then I crush her to me and tilt my head to kiss her deeper.

I lose track of time as we stand there. My body sizzles as my skin warms and the water evaporates. Her body is pliant and firm against mine. Her hands tug at my neck and trail down my back to the top of my hip bones but don’t go any lower. Her clothes stick to me, and I have a vague recollection that she’s already dressed for work as I wind her thick braid around my palm. I don’t ever want to stop.

She releases a breathy moan, and I press her against the wall and push against her. My knee slides between her legs, and I can feel the heat at her center as her tongue slides over mine. I tug her shirt from the waistline of her pants and grunt when my palm hits her smooth skin.

I rip my mouth from hers and suck on the hollow below her ear. “You feel so good,” I mumble in a tortured whimper.

“Peeta,” she moans, and my hips jerk against her when her hands slide down and cup my ass. All those jokes about buns ripples in the shared sexual tension that increases steadily as she kneads and cups me. Not surprisingly, I’m turned on again, and my cock behaves like a heat-seeking missile. I rub against her groin, and she grinds into me.

A nagging voice tells me to stop, to pull back, but I don’t want to listen to reason—only what her body’s telling me. I don’t understand anything except the way we fit together. I maneuver her a few steps over until she stumbles backward into her room and onto her bed. I stretch over her and wrap her legs around my waist. She moans as I thrust my hips against hers until she moves in rhythm under me. A few seconds later we’re dry-humping like teenagers.

I can feel the seam of her pants against my dick, and she squirms until her breath catches. When it does, I press against her and watch in disbelief as she unravels underneath me.

“Right there,” she begs. “Don’t stop. Right there.”

I buck against her, pushing the material against her clit until she spasms and quakes in my arms. She pants and moans as her body trembles, and I realize I’ve just pushed the woman I love over the edge. I made her come, and I didn’t even have to get her naked.

When she stills under me, I’m suddenly aware of our situation. I’m naked on top of her, and she’s just climaxed inside her pants. Her work clothes are rumpled, soiled, and damp, and I’ve got my second raging boner of the morning. It’s so ridiculous, I can’t help but laugh.

“You’re laughing at me?!”

Before I can process her question, I’m flat on my back, and she’s glaring down at me from the side of her bed. Infuriated, her gray eyes flash, and her hands are clenched at her sides.

“No!” I protest and smirk when she looks down at my junk. It’s both incredibly embarrassing and equally thrilling that she’s seeing me naked (again) and seems to like it.

“Then what is it? I’m bad at this? I didn’t live up to expectations? What?” She spits her interrogation so fast, my head spins. I grab the sheet and cover myself. I’m starting to shrink, and that’s definitely not what I want her to see.

“Katniss, you are absolutely not bad at this. Not even close to bad. More like fucking amazing.”

“Really?” Her voice is so small I almost can’t hear it.

“Hell, yes! I just— I mean, that was not how I expected that to happen.”

“Expected what to happen?”

“Us!” I blurt and snap my mouth shut. I hadn’t intended to admit just how much I’d been wanting to kiss her.

She grins and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. “You’ve been planning that?”

I nod and lean over to kiss her cheek. “For the past twenty years or so. You have no idea the effect you have.”

She blushes and ducks her head. “Well, I might have a little bit of an idea,” she says and nods toward my lap. “You going to take care of that?”

My face burns at her insinuation. “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” I answer in a desperate attempt to regain some dignity.

“Who said anything about necessary?” she teases and attempts to pull the sheet back.

I want to so badly. I almost ache with it, but this is not the right time. I want hours with her. I want the rest of my life. I don’t want our first time to be a quickie on a weekday morning when we both have to be out the door in less than an hour.

“I can’t believe this, but we both need to go to work. You’re probably gonna want to change, and I’m going to try to save face and walk out of here without worrying about you watching my bare ass as I go away.” Before I can think about her ogling me, I stand and cross to her door. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure,” she agrees. “And Peeta?”

“Yeah?” I poke my head back in her room for her answer.

“I’m still not exactly sure why I like your dumb ass, but you really do have a nice one.”

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #hutchhitched #iliveiloveilaughiread #prompt 53

[alj4890]

RCD Appreciation Week Day 6 Prompt

(Matt Rodriguez x Addison Sinclaire) with the day's given prompt concerning side characters of Red Carpet Diaries.

(Matt x Addison) A Choices Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction one shot

A/N I realized I have never had these two meet in a storyline. I always start them well after they are close. I thought I might spice things up a bit with showing their first encounter and falling for one another. 

@rcd-appreciation​ @hopelessromantic1352​ @lilyofchoices​ @moodyvalentinestories​​ @krsnlove​​ @sunflowergirl05​​ @cora-nova​​

Masterlist

Crushing It

"I can do this." Addison repeated over and over, and what the heck, over once more. She carried a few possible outfits toward a trailer sitting back behind a sound stage.

She took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself at meeting for the first time an actual real life movie star. "Be cool." She commanded herself. "No giggling or drooling allowed!"

Just as she went to knock, the door opened.

OMG!!! HE'S BETTER LOOKING IN PERSON! HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!? Her mind screamed at her. "Hi!" Her voice squeaked. "I um..." Say something! Her brain commanded as the part that controled her lips failed to register. You look so stupid right now! Say anything before he figures out what a fangirl you are!

Matt smiled warmly at her. "You must be the new costume designer. Can I help you with those?" He reached over and took some of the hangers from her.

"No, yes, I mean..." She had to tear her eyes from his face. Get it together Sinclaire! "I am the new girl and thank you for helping. I'm Addison."

Oh. My. Look at that smile. And it's directed at me. Brain functions turning to mush. Body slowly melting at his cuteness.

She smiled back at him while walking inside. Matt's trailer was simple in design. The only luxuries were the plush comfortable furniture everywhere, most likely to help recover from strenuous action scenes. Possibly shirtless action scenes.

"Which do you want me to try on first?" Matt asked.

Addison set the clothes down and focused on her new job. She picked some shirt and pant combos then debated on others. Matt's smile grew with her finally becoming less nervous and just a tad bossy.

At one point, she helped him take off a shirt she decided was the wrong color for his golden skin tone. Her fingers brushed against his chiseled abs snapping her back to the fact that she was undressing Matt Rodriguez, the very man she had kept a poster of above her bed in college.

Matt noticed the blush suddenly appear on her cheeks and the slight shaking of her hands. She was reverting back to the one he had first met. He wasn't sure which was cuter on her, the shy nervous miss or the miniature blonde Napoleon.

"Which color do think looks best on me? He asked to help her refocus.

She slowly lifted her eyes up his torso. "Er...mostly warm but there are a few in the cool colors you can wear."

"Isn't every color cool if I wear it?" He teased.

Addison giggled and nearly threw herself out the window when she snorted in a very unattractive way while giggling. Granted it would have only been like a six foot drop, but maybe the bruises would snap her out of this high school crush rapidly developing.

"I think this is the one." She handed him a snug dark blue t-shirt. The soft material outlined every aspect his trainer had made him work on.

"Wow." She mumbled. Her eyes met his and she blushed some more. "Are you allowed to eat carbs?" Why don't you just blurt out every thought? Perhaps throw in a couple of embarrassing stories from childhood next time.

"Allowed? No." His lips curved into a sheepish smile. "But I dream about them every night."

Addison nearly doubled over laughing at his exaggerated longing expression. He mocked being hurt at her making light of his passionate love for breads and pastas.

"When the movie is finished, I promise to take you out for an all you can eat carb night on the town." Her smile glowed with how easy it was becoming to talk to him. His ability to make fun of himself made him so incredibly adorable.

"You know I am going to hold you to that." Matt walked over to a calendar he had on the wall. "Phil promised me that we should be done shooting in another six weeks." He circled the week in red and wrote PDA across it.

"PDA?" Her blue eyes widened.

"Pasta Date with Addison." He told her with a wink. There was a knock on his trailer door for him to come to the set. "Thanks again for taking the time to find me clothes that don't make me look like some run of the mill action star. Most that have handed me outfits in the past did not even try to see what works best. They just threw a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt at me."

Addison smiled proudly. "You're the first person I've gotten to dress since I graduated. I can't have you look like everybody else."

"I'm you're first? But you act like you've done this before!" His smile glowed as he encouraged her on his way out. "See you soon, Addison."

She gathered the discarded clothes and followed him out. The director's assistant complimented him on how he looked for a scene. Matt gave Addison all the credit without realizing she was a few steps behind him. She wanted to drop the clothes and hug him for being so sweet.

"And I thought I loved him before I met him." She said to herself. "

______________

Four years later...

"Matt, will you hurry up! I've got three other people to dress." Addison reached over and quickly began to unbutton the packet of buttons on his pants.

"Sorry. I've never worn period clothing before and am having trouble figuring it out." He mumbled while pulling a shirt over his head.

She shook her head while pulling his pants down.

"Addison!" He ripped the shirt off. His hair was sticking out at odd angles. "Could you wait a minute and let me do that?"

"I've seen you in your underwear before." She muttered. "We've been friends like forever. I promise not to ogle you."

Matt squirmed at her hands helping him undress. This was the only part he hated about working with her. He knew one day his body was going to betray how he felt about her. Removing his pants was something she didn't need to do unless she planned on changing their relationship status.

Addison gathered the clothing and grinned at the blush covering his cheeks. He is such a sweetheart. He is still so modest after all this time. She loved working with him. He made the days so much more fun.

"I'll be back to help you dress for the next scene." She promised, leaving before he had a chance to tell her that wasn't necessary.

He groaned and collapsed face down on the couch in his trailer. Doing a historical romance was more challenging than he anticipated. Thomas was teaching him so much about the depth of subtly in acting. Holly had written a screenplay he found interesting. Addison had created costumes that were already garnering nominations. He loved the fact that he was working with both actors and behind the scenes people that were his true friends.

But Addison was also a little something more. She just didn't know it yet. His crush had grown over the years to love. Needing her assistance more so than usual to dress in these elaborate military outfits was going to end up ruining their friendship. He needed to confess his feelings and be done with it.

Addison walked in on Victoria going through some lines with Holly. She eyed the glittering ice blue silk ballgown and nodded in approval. Everything was where it was supposed to be.

"Need anything?" She asked.

Victoria grimaced. "Will you check on Chadley. He thought a cravat was a type of carrot. His disappointment will ruin the next scene."

Addison choked back a laugh as she backed out of the dressing room. Holly caught up with her a few moments later.

"I see Matt's clothes clutched lovingly in your arms." Holly teased. "Finally got him naked, huh?"

"Holly!" Addison hissed checking to see if anyone overheard her.

"Please. We all know." Holly rolled her eyes. "You started crushing on him when you crossed the California state line."

"I did not." Addison protested. It happened...huh. It was when she came here for college.

"You did too." Holly corrected. "And if I were a lady who bets, I would bet a large amount that you're feelings would not be unwelcomed."

Addison was as red as the jacket she held. "Look, my feelings for Matt are perfectly fine in the friend zone."

"Really?" Holly narrowed her eyes. "So it wouldn't bother you that Victoria ran into Pippa Majors and she plans on stopping by the set later for a visit?"

"Why would that bother me?" Addison asked.

"Because she specifically asked if Matt would be here."

"Oh." Addison's shoulders drooped.

"Good thing you don't mind her coming. I think she is going to ask him to be her plus one to Marcus's wedding." Holly studied her friend closely for a spark of temper. She hoped her prodding would spur her into action.

"I...I gotta check on Chadley." Addison hurried away.

____________

A few hours later...

"Hey Holly. Have you seen Addison?" Matt asked. "She promised to help me dress for the next scene."

"She must still be with Chadley." Holly glanced at the handsome actor taking a sip of water. "I think they make a cute couple."

Matt spit his water out. He coughed, apologized to the poor grip he spit on, and cleared his throat. "What?"

"I think Chadley has a crush on her." Holly continued innocently. "Addison thinks he is a sweetheart. I think they could possibly be together if I encouraged them both."

Matt was adamantly shaking his head. "No. They would not be good together."

"Why not?" Holly ignored the look Thomas gave her as he overheard their conversation. "They are both genuinely kind. Chadley might be lacking in the brains department but he is a very handsome guy. Addison is as sweet as she is cute. I can't think of two people more meant to be together."

Matt paled. He caught a glimpse of Addison squeezing Chadley's hand as she left his trailer. Whatever he said had her smiling and waving goodbye.

Holly followed his gaze and prodded some more. "Can you think of a better match for her?"

"I..." Matt's usual pleasant expression hardened as he walked off without another word spoken.

"Nicely done." Thomas remarked as he passed his notes to her.

Holly grinned. "I thought so too."

______________

Another hour after that...

Matt paced his trailer. Thoughts and possible outcomes flickered through his mind, angering him. "Come in." He barked.

Addison paused in the doorway. "You okay?"

"Yes." He snapped.

Her crystal clear blue eyes reflected the shock and slight hurt she felt over his tone. "I'll just leave these here."

"Addison, wait." Matt rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." He sat down, motioning for her to join him

She came back in and gently rubbed his back. "What's wrong?"

Matt swallowed nervously. "I'm in love."

NO!!! NOT PIPPA! Her brain screamed. "Oh? That's...that's great."

"No it isn't." Matt muttered. "She doesn't feel the same."

"I bet she does." Addison rolled her eyes. That jerk Pippa is probably playing hard to get.

"She likes Chadley." His eyes focused on her face.

"Who would ever choose Chadley over you?" Addison covered her mouth at her own outburst. "Don't get me wrong he is a sweetie, but seriously...I mean, have you met you? You're literally the best guy ever. You got it all. The body, the heart, the brains...you're the whole package, Matt. If Pippa can't see that, then she is a bigger idiot than I thought."

Matt nearly whooped with relief until she brought up Pippa. "What does Pippa have to do with anything?"

"Aren't you taking her to Marcus's wedding?" Her puzzeled expression caused his own.

"No. I had planned on asking you to go with me, but I didn't want to interrupt the time you could be spending with Chadley." His puzzlement grew as her brow furrowed even more.

"Why would I do that? Don't get me wrong I like him as a friend, but he is better in small doses." Addison slowly smiled. "You were going to ask me to be your date for the wedding?"

Matt's sheepish grin appeared. "Yeah. Would you like to go with me?"

"Yes, I would." She wondered if he realized how close he was to her now.

Matt leaned even nearer. "Would you like to have dinner with me after the shoot?"

She nodded, lowering her eyes to his lips.

They barely brushed her cheek. Matt's arms wrapped around her as he ever so slowly kissed her.

Her touch was just as gentle. Her mind though...well...

"GET SOME GIRL!"

#rcdaw #rcd appreciation week #rcd ma #rcd addison #Matt x Addison