#truly one of those times where you just quietly sit and stare at a wall for hours to process everything

[thepixelatedbunny]

So I had just listened to big finish's Master bc haha funny torvic rock murder and now I'm so normal about it (screaming crying foaming at the mouth; doing zoomies around my room rn)

10/10 audio

[freeabortionslol]

shake it off, babe (a lake house series fic) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pairings: cole caufield x reader, mentions of quinn, jack, luke, and trevor (but there's no dialogue with them) summary: reader feels lonely at the annual lake house party, cole steps in to cheer her up, italics means flashback warnings!! mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, cursing a/n: here's a lake house blurb for all you Cole lovers!! this was a request by an anon :) I love the suggestions so keep em coming!

wc: 2.4k lake house series masterlist

The volume of chatter and music ran high through the lake house, your eyes saddening with every beat of the drum. You sat on the couch, swirling your drink in your hand as you stared at the wall. Jack and Luke were somewhere in the house talking to various women, Trevor was far too drunk to function, and Quinn had to fly home to Vancouver for some emergency with his apartment. You were left sitting alone, missing Quinn more than ever. You pulled out your phone, already beginning to type out a message. 

You: miss ya lots

You sighed, placing your phone back in your lap and taking another sip of your drink. You sank back into your seat, your eyes scanning the room for anyone to talk to, but you didn’t recognize most of the people in the house. It was one of those weird weeks out of the summer where all your girlfriends were busy and couldn’t carve out the time to come to Michigan, so you were left with no one. You could get up and talk to the girls that the guys had invited, but you knew they were only here for whichever player invited them. You’d seen this film before; you walk up to a girl, start talking about something unrelated to hockey, and the conversation always flips to them trying to get you to set them up with one of the guys. Your girlfriends never did that, knowing how truly annoying your little band of hockey players could be at times.  

“Hey, you okay?” Cole asked loudly, planting himself down in the seat next to you. You jolted a bit as you were knocked from your daze, your gaze softening at the sight of Cole.

You nodded your head, gracing him with a half smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed, gently biting his lip as he stared you down. “I know what ‘fine’ means, and it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay.” 

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing on you. "It's just...I miss my friends. My girlfriends," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. "It’s weird, you know? Jack, Luke, and Trevor are off doing god knows what, Quinn left, and I'm just sitting here alone." 

Cole's expression softened as he turned toward you, his body language more relaxed. "I get it," he said quietly. "Jack’s always off trying to find his next conquest and Trevor-" He took a moment before continuing. "Trevor’s just over there being a fucking idiot." You let out a soft laugh, glancing over towards Trevor in the kitchen. He was shirtless, wearing a cowboy hat as he wrapped an arm around Jamie Drysdale, almost slipping on the linoleum. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s ridiculous.” Silence draped over the two of you as you returned your gaze to the wall, fiddling with the drink in your hand. Cole let out a soft sigh, taking a look at your sad eyes before sinking in the couch next to you, knees touching slightly. He took a sip of his beer letting his eyes scan the room as the two of you sat in silence. He caught sight of a particular guy, one he’d seen hanging around Luke at various parties like this. The guy wasn’t much taller than Cole, maybe an inch or two, he had blonde hair that was covered by his Michigan baseball cap. Cole had met him a couple times, though it wasn’t enough to remember his name. He remembered the guy being an absolute dick, your typical pretentious hockey play-boy. The guy’s drunk stare was centered on you as you sat there with sad eyes and a pouty lip, clearly upset about something. Cole noticed immediately, his soft gaze turning into a more aggressive stare. Casually, he placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. Almost immediately, you leaned your head on his shoulder, assuming Cole was just trying to comfort you from the weight of the night. Cole’s arm around you felt warm and comforting, a subtle distraction from the heaviness in your chest. You breathed in, trying to steady yourself, but the thought of Quinn still lingered. You tried not to let it show, but Cole could sense it. You let out a long sigh, your gaze flicking across the room again, this time landing on the guy with the blonde hair in the baseball cap. He was still staring, his gaze lingering too long for comfort. Your stomach twisted, the feeling of being watched settling over you. You ignored it as best as possible, lifting your head from Cole’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. 

“You wouldn’t rather be talking to all these pretty girl’s instead of slumming it with my sad ass?” You asked, your voice quiet. 

Cole’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “Nah,” He said, taking another sip of his beer. “Not when I've got the prettiest girl in the room sitting next to me.” You smiled softly, bumping your head against his shoulder before taking it off again. You let out a sigh, picking your phone back up to check for new messages.

quinnifer: Miss you too 🩷 don’t have too much fun without me

You simply turned your phone off and set it back down, not wanting to continue sulking. 

“Hey,” Cole said, tapping your shoulder lightly. You whipped your head to him, seeing that he was looking elsewhere in the room. “Girl in the white top, blue shorts.” He pointed to a girl on the far end of the room. She was sitting in one of the rocking chairs, both of her legs over each arm of the chair as she slouched, looking at her phone. 

You let out a soft giggle, now looking at her as well. “Holy shit. That can’t be comfortable.” Cole laughed along, feeling the vibrations of his chest rising and falling against your skin. 

“‘Have you ever tried this one?’” You and Cole said in unison, quoting the song ‘Juno’ by Sabrina Carpenter, like your brains were intertwined. You both whipped your heads to each other, mouths wide open as you realized you had the same thought. You both doubled over laughing on the couch, trying your best to catch your breath. Cole’s loud, hearted laugh echoed through the living room as you gripped your stomach, tears falling from your eyes. Once the laughter finally began to die down, you wiped your eyes and leaned back into the couch, still smiling. Cole took a deep breath, calming himself, but his grin was still wide, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“Man, you’re way too much fun to be sitting around here looking all mopey,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You always know how to boost my ego, Cole.” 

Cole let out a soft laugh, returning his arm around your shoulders. “That’s my job.” You held up your drink in cheers before leaning back into his touch. “When we finally get married-”

“And, you ruined it.” You interrupted, taking another sip from your drink. Cole groaned in mock offense, letting out a slight snort. 

"Come on, I was getting there!" Cole grumbled, feigning disappointment as he dramatically slouched back against the couch. "You can’t just cut me off mid-proposal, that’s rude." 

You couldn't help but laugh again, your heart feeling a little lighter despite everything. "Oh, was that supposed to be a proposal? Sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to say yes." 

Cole’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in exaggerated shock. "You’re breaking my heart here!" he said dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d just delivered the worst news of his life. "I’m offering you a lifetime of terrible jokes, unsolicited advice, and questionable dance moves, and this is how you repay me?" You laughed again, the feeling of being surrounded by laughter and easy camaraderie easing the knot in your stomach, even if only for a little while. There was something about Cole’s effortless ability to make light of a situation that always made everything feel less serious. In that moment, you realized that maybe this night wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t the same as being with Quinn or Jack, but there was something comforting about having a friend like Cole, someone who could always make you smile when you needed it most. Just as you were relaxing into your spot, taking another sip from your drink, ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift came over the speakers. 

Cole’s head whipped over to you in a second, his eyes wide as his smile grew. “Oh shit!” He exclaimed.

You giggled, shaking your head at him. “Nuh uh. No way, Caufield.” 

“What? Why?” He groaned. “It’s our song!” You scoffed playfully, your giggles intensifying. 

Two years earlier…

You and Cole sat outside on the back porch, the wind blowing fresh summer air against your cheeks. The whole group had already gone inside after a smoke session. Everyone was sleepy, wanted to pass out as soon as possible, but you and Cole were always the late nighters. Cole was known to be effortlessly funny- the kind of funny that had you lying on the floor almost wetting yourself. You stuck by his side that summer more than you cared to admit, the tension from arguments from Jack causing you to drift away a bit. You and Cole just sat together, talking about random things in the midst of your loopy states. 

“Okay, Okay,” Cole started, brushing off his giggles. “What’s your best party trick?”

You wiped tears from your eyes, something that occurred almost every time Cole opened his mouth. “I don’t have one.”

Cole tilted his head, widening his eyes. “No way. You’re too cool to not have a party trick.” 

You laughed slightly, leaning back in your adirondack chair. “It’s true!” You exclaimed. “Never saw a reason to have one.” 

Cole scoffed, leaning his head against his hand. “Well, I don’t have one either.”

You whipped your head over to him, a stoned thought hitting you like a lightbulb. “We should come up with one.”

“Come up with a party trick?” He asked.

“Yes!” You said loudly. “But like…one that’s together. Something we can only do if both of us are there.” 

Cole sat up, his brows furrowing. “Hm…like what?” You pointed your gaze down at your hands, trying to think. Cole did the same, looking out at the lake as ideas swarmed his mind. “Like a choreographed dance?” 

You turned your head to him slowly, a bright smile on your face. “Exactly.” You whispered.

The two of you spent the entirety of that night strategically choreographing dance moves to Shake It Off. Most of the turns ended in you falling straight into Cole’s arms, stumbling and laughing as he pushed you back up on your feet. By the time the clock hit 5am you and Cole had a brand new party trick that you were both extremely proud of. 

“C’mon, babe!” He groaned, sitting closer to the edge of his seat. “It’s why we created this amazing dance.” He stood up in front of you, placing his beer on the coffee table before extending his hand out to you. “Will this beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, smokin’ hot lady please join me for a dance?”

You smacked your lips, a smile cracking slightly. “Well when you ask me like that, how am I supposed to say no?” A wide grin wiped across Cole’s face as you took his hand, standing up along with him. As you stood, you could feel the playful tension between the two of you, like something was about to unfold. Cole's energy was contagious, his grin impossibly wide as he pulled you gently towards the center of the living room. You could hear the music in the background, the familiar beat of ‘Shake It Off’ starting to fill the space around you. 

"Alright, here’s the deal," Cole said, his voice low and dramatic. "We’ve been practicing this for two years, and if we don’t do it now, it’s gonna be a waste of all that hard work." You laughed, shaking your head as you took your position, mirroring his moves from the countless rehearsals that now felt like a lifetime ago. The excitement in his eyes told you that he was all in, and you couldn’t help but feel the same. Cole threw his hands up in exaggerated excitement. "Let’s go!" The music kicked in, and without missing a beat, you both started the routine. Every move perfectly timed, every spin and shimmy choreographed with surprising precision. You fell into each other’s rhythm effortlessly, recalling the late summer nights spent perfecting this ridiculous but strangely satisfying routine. You twirled, and Cole caught you in his arms, just as he had done countless times before. You both laughed, the entire world outside the living room blurring into the background as you and Cole reveled in the moment. The laughter and joy from your past drifted through the air, only making the experience feel more surreal. As the song’s chorus hit, you both pulled off the final spin and ended it with an exaggerated bow, panting from the fun but smiling like fools. The living room went silent for a brief moment before you both burst out laughing, unable to contain yourselves. 

Cole wiped his forehead, pretending to be out of breath. "See? Told you we were the best." 

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach. "I can’t believe we’re doing this in front of a party of strangers," you gasped between giggles. 

But Cole didn’t care. His grin never faltered as he threw his arm around you, pulling you into his side. "Who cares? We’re having the time of our lives, and everyone else can catch up. You’re welcome, world." 

You shook your head, still laughing. "I swear, Cole, you’re the only person who can convince me to do something so ridiculous and make me actually enjoy it." 

He shrugged nonchalantly, clearly proud of his success. "What can I say? It’s a gift." 

As you both settled back onto the couch, the energy of the moment still buzzing between you, you felt lighter than you had in hours. With Cole by your side, even the heavy moments felt a little easier to carry. 

[arcadia-smith]

Smoke of the future

Moodboard/masterlist

Pairing: King Simon Riley x Mage!Reader

Summary: You are King Simon’s most trusted ally, gifted with the ability to glimpse the future. With your guidance, he has risen to become one of the greatest rulers the kingdom has ever known. But when forgotten memories begin resurfacing, unraveling secrets buried in time, everything changes. What will he do when forced to choose between you and his people? And when love and duty stand at odds, which path will you take?

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter 1

You’ve spent enough time in this court to grow accustomed to the whispers and wary glances the nobles cast your way. Yet, they never dare to speak their disdain aloud or meet your gaze for too long, as if fearing you might curse their blood.

You’ve always felt more at home among commoners than the noblewomen, whose greatest worries revolve around whether they’ve underdressed for an event. So, whenever an opportunity arises to slip beyond the castle walls, you take it—venturing into the village to offer herbal remedies and practice magic-infused medicine for those who plead for your aid time and time again.

It’s not as if King Simon has ever forced you to stay by his side. More than once, he’s told you that you’re free to leave whenever you wish. But every time you so much as mentioned retiring to a quiet little cabin by the borders, he's given you that look—the one that says, You can’t really leave me. I need you.

"You're terribly quiet," Simon's voice pulled at your thoughts as he leaned closer.

You shot him a look before turning your attention back to the old nobleman droning on across the table. For what felt like the fifth time this week—though the week had only just begun—he was rambling about the situation down by the coast.

"He should worry about his wife sleeping with their servant, not about something you've already gotten under control, my king."

Simon let out a quiet laugh. He’d always loved how there was no filter between your thoughts and your tongue—whatever crossed your mind inevitably spilled out.

"You've seen the future of his marriage?"

You shook your head slightly, gaze shifting to the side. Staring was impolite, you reminded yourself.

"Saw his wife sneaking away with the servant boy at the last gathering."

Simon huffed out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "You do have a habit of noticing things you shouldn't."

You merely hummed in response, fingers idly tracing the rim of your goblet as the nobleman droned on, still oblivious to the fact that neither of you were truly listening.

"Should I tell him?" Simon kept his voice low "Or let him waste his breath on a matter that’s already resolved?"

"Depends. Do you want to be entertained, or do you want to be merciful?"

Simon glanced at the old man, who was still gesturing wildly, lost in his own speech. "Mercy isn't my strongest trait," he admitted.

"Neither is patience," you murmured.

His gaze flicked to you "And yet, I’ve had plenty when it comes to you."

The nobleman's voice droned on, and you felt Simon watching you. It was moments like these—where duty and formality blurred at the edges—that reminded you why you'd stayed by his side for so long. He didn’t treat you like the others did, with fear and suspicion. He listened, laughed, and—despite never saying it outright—he relied on you.

"You're patient with me, because I am quite useful." You shrugged, eyes darting to Simon "And we're friends."

Simon scoffed quietly, shaking his head "Drink your wine, little witch. We've got a long night ahead of us."

You tilted your head back against the chair’s backrest, letting your eyes slip shut. This was the part you hated most—sitting through these mind-numbing meetings. Even without your visions, they all blurred together, the same discussions looping over and over.

Simon knew how much you despised them. Hell, he hated them just as much. But he refused to suffer through them alone, so he made sure to drag you down with him every single time.

The noble's voice, along with the occasional uninterested hums from Simon, faded into the background as your mind drifted elsewhere.

The thing about your visions was that you had no control over them. You couldn’t summon them at will, and you couldn’t make them leave you alone. Some came like fleeting whispers, indistinct and blurry. Others were sharp—too vivid, too real. But one thing was certain. They were never wrong.

This time, it came quickly. Whispers swirled around you, a flickering image of a new threat looming over Simon’s life. The voices were frantic, the words blurred together—only the sharp sting of panic cutting through. Someone was screaming, but you couldn’t tell who.

A cold ache spread through your chest, a familiar weight pressing down, and then there were warm palms on your waist, grounding you.

A figure moved in the shadows, their silhouette ominous, shifting like a predator. You couldn’t see their face, but you could feel them, the weight of their presence, the sense that something was coming.

The scream—the one that had echoed so faintly—became clearer. It wasn’t just anyone. It was the King. Simon’s voice, raw and filled with pain, was unmistakable.

Your hands were hot. And wet. Blood. The blood was on your hands.

You snapped back into the room, gasping for breath, heart pounding. Your hands shot out, instinctively reaching for Simon, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.

“Did you…?” Simon straightened up, his full attention now on you.

You couldn’t find the words, so you just shook your head. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself out of your seat. Your hands curled into the fabric of your skirt, fingers gripping it tightly as you moved quickly toward the door, the sound of your hurried steps echoing in the room.

The hallway was quieter, and it gave you a moment to breathe, but the unease churned in your gut. Your palms were still warm from the vision. You rubbed them against your skirt, as if trying to erase the lingering sensation, but it didn’t help.

The sound of your own footsteps grew louder, mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. You barely registered the soft hum of the lights overhead or the distant conversations behind you. All you could think of was that scream—the rawness of it, and how much it had felt like it came from Simon.

Your hand pressed against the wall as you slowed, trying to collect yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But there was no clarity, just confusion.

"Hey," Simon’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts. You didn’t turn around.

He was right behind you, his steps purposeful, but not chasing. He was giving you space, letting you come to him on your own terms, but you knew he wouldn’t let you run for long.

“Talk to me,” he said.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you turned to face him. "Just one of those... vivid visions."

Simon gave a slow nod "Do you need to lie down?"

Your hand tightened it's grip on your skirt "Yeah... I'll find you once I've collected myself. You go back to your duties, my King."

His gaze roamed over you, a moment of hesitation on his part, before he returned to the meeting.

His touch was warm, almost burning. You could feel your breath catching, bodies moving in sync.

"God, you're so beautiful." He whispered into your ear, arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his breath hot against your parted lips. "I love you, my lady."

Fingertips traced the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You shivered, tilting your chin up, inviting him closer, needing more. His nose brushed against yours, foreheads resting together.

"Say it again," you breathed, hands threading into his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Simon's lips found yours in response, slow and lingering, a promise sealed between shared breaths. "I love you," he vowed, voice breaking ever so slightly, as if the words had been carved from his very soul. "I always will."

You jolted awake, a sharp breath tearing from your lips as you pushed tangled strands of hair from your face. The remnants of his touch still lingered—phantom kisses against your skin, the steady echo of his heartbeat against your own. But it wasn’t a vision. It couldn’t be. You’d seen the same thing night after night, the scenes playing on an endless loop, like a cruel trick of the mind. And now, with the whispers growing louder in the castle halls, you wondered if the nobles were right. Perhaps you were losing your mind.

Without bothering to dress properly, you slipped out of your chambers and made your way beyond the castle walls. The cool night air wrapped around you as you hurried toward the lake house just outside the village, where the only person who could understand you awaited.

You didn’t have to knock. The elderly woman sat on the porch, hands clasped in her lap, her sharp gaze already fixed on you as if she had known you were coming.

“I made tea,” Kate said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It will ease your mind, my dear.”

You stopped a few feet away, your arms wrapping around yourself as you struggled to steady your breath. “I think I’m losing my mind.” Your voice wavered.

Kate had been your advisor for as long as you could remember. She had practically raised you, guiding you through the burdens of your gift—the same gift she possessed yet never used to rise in rank or secure a more comfortable life.

“The visions I’ve been seeing…” You swallowed, forcing the words out in a single breath. “They feel more like—”

“Memories,” Kate finished for you.

You nodded, dread settling deep in your chest. “But that’s not possible. They can’t be my memories. How could I forget something like—” You cut yourself off, rubbing your hands over your face as panic threatened to overtake you.

Kate lifted her tea, blowing gently over the steaming surface before taking a slow sip. Then, she met your eyes with a knowing look.

“Sit down, Y/N,” she said softly. “I saw this day coming. And I have been waiting for it.”

"You had a vision?" You were rooted in the spot, not moving an inch.

"Didn't need a vision to know that memories will come back. I warned you about that, but you didn't listen. Same as I've said time and time again, you cannot change the future, the visions are as they come and they're bound to happen, even if you try to delay them, sweet girl."

Your eyebrows furrowed but before you could get a word in Kate continued.

"If you're remembering, the King will soon too." She hummed, fingers curling around her tea mug. A knowing look flickered in her aged eyes. "Do you remember how you became King Simon's advisor?"

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself. "Yes.. you guided me to him when I had the vision about commotion at the border just after he took the throne."

"But that wasn't the first time you've met him, Y/N. You had known him for years before that."

Your stomach twisted, confusion settling deep in your bones. That couldn’t be true. Kate must’ve been mistaken, her age catching up to her. You would remember something like that, wouldn’t you?

"And the King, before he was who he is now, spent many quiet summer nights here."

Your frown deepened. The lake house had always been your safe haven, untouched by the weight of courtly life. If Simon had ever been here, you would remember. You should remember.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Blank.

Your mind was blank.

No visions. No flickers of familiarity. Just empty space where a lifetime of memories should have been.

"It's gonna come back," Kate hummed and you could feel her gaze on you as you tried to make sense of her words.

You shook your head "How... how is it possible?"

Kate sighed, taking a slow sip of her tea before setting the mug down with careful precision. "I remember that night like it was yesterday. You came to me crying, begging me to tell you how to change the future. You were desperate." Her eyes darkened, her voice softening with something like regret. "But when I told you, again and again, that the future cannot be changed, you left. And when you returned, it was as if a part of your life had been erased.”

Her gaze pinned you in place. “The part that was Simon.”

You took a step closer. "Tell me everything."

Kate exhaled, the weight of years pressing into her shoulders as she gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit down, Y/N."

You hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to run—to demand answers from someone else, anyone else. But you knew Kate wouldn’t lie to you. She never had. So, with a deep breath, you lowered yourself onto the wooden chair, hands gripping the edge of your cloak.

"Before he ever sat on that throne, before the crown ever weighed on his head, before the war—he was yours. And you were his."

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Kate sighed, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. "You saw something in a vision—something terrible. And when you realized you couldn’t stop it, you did the only thing you could."

She looked at you again, her eyes filled with something that looked an awful lot like pity.

"You erased him from your heart."

[kittenlittle24]

Fortnight part 2

As usual GIFs aren’t not mine, comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated

Part 1

Masterlist

The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed softly through the walls to where he sat on your side of the bed before he heard the footsteps reaching the bedroom.

He looked up to see Wilson in the doorway with a brand-new bottle of bourbon. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “No lecture on how I screwed up?”

Placing the bottle on House’s bedside table and sitting against the bed frame and crossing his legs on the bed.

“Figured you know that by now. Did she say why she left?”

House picked up the letter and handed it to him silently instead of answering and in response, Wilson picked up the bottle and gave it to House.

Unscrewing the lid he tipped it in a cheers gesture before raising it to his lips and taking a long sip.

After reading the paper Wilson reached for the bottle himself before handing both back.

“What are you going to do?”

Reading it again himself before folding the letter and placing it in his pocket.

He shook the bottle in Wilson’s face and proceeded to drink.

Wilson sighed softly, even though he could admit that the situation was a mess. He knew that his friend never fully recovered from his relationship with the lawyer. He also knew that he did truly love you.

House was a troubled person who wouldn’t allow himself to feel happiness yet he did let his guard down when it came to you.

You were everything that he could wish for, you understood that he was in pain and that made him a harder person and you didn’t expect him to change, you never commented on the Vicodin, instead tried to help as much as possible with rubs, baths, heated water bottles and anything else that you could think of. You loved him, more than that, you accepted him.

Leaving Gregory House was the most difficult and painful decision you ever made. You knew about the history he shared with Stacy, you knew that underneath the anger and betrayal that he felt when she chose to get him that surgery and then left him later on he still loved her and wanted her.

He told you that Cuddy asked him before hiring her and he agreed because he was with you and she was married. You wished he wouldn’t have agreed, so much heartache would’ve been spared.

Since you left and House figured there was nothing he could do considering he had no idea where you left to, as well as has too much pride to try and call you to apologize, he figured he should make the most out of the situation and have fun.

Which of course meant screw with Mark, Stacy’s husband.

It took him some time to exhaust her, but he succeeded, she kissed him when they were stuck in Baltimore together and slept together when they came back.

However, one thing he didn’t account for. That getting back together with Stacy wouldn’t change a single thing. He didn’t feel any better after sleeping with her; in fact, might have made him feel even worse.

He stopped on the way to the hospital to buy himself a cup of coffee. He had just paid and was waiting for his name to be called when he saw your back. He rushed after you as fast as he could, his heart rate rose the closer he got. He grasped your bicep and had to swallow hard when the woman who turned wasn’t you.

“Thought you were someone else.” He stammered quietly in apology.

The woman shrugged and smiled, “I have one of those faces.” She replied before she walked away and left him staring after her.

He entered Stacy’s office, closing the door behind him. She told him she was going to tell Mark and divorce him. He stopped her and asked her not to leave her husband for him. He explained how they’ll be happy at first but it won’t last, that people don’t change, and he hasn’t changed. Turning he left and headed straight to Wilson’s office.

He, per usual, barged open, not caring if his friend was busy or not.

“I need your help getting y/n back.”

Wilson grabbed his coat and stood up with a grin, “Finally.”

Wilson brought the car around the hospital entrance to pick House up, “Any idea where she might be?”

“Unless she moved in order to cut all ties, she’s probably in her apartment.”

Nodding, he pressed the gas and headed to the address his friend gave.

Putting the car in park, they both quietly stared at the building’s entrance.

Taking a deep breath, House grabbed his cane before leaving the vehicle. He walked up the cement steps to the building’s door, his hand levitating over the intercom, not certain if to ring or not.

The choice was made for him when a person came out of the building and held the door open for him. He nodded a thanks before making his way inside.

He raised his hand to knock on the apartment door. A man, your brother he recognized from pictures, greeted him.

Looking very uncomfortable and moving his spot House introduced himself.

He saw you come behind your brother to see who’s at the door but instead of replying and before House had a chance to understand what’s happening, a fist connected with his nose and House staggered backward and fell straight on his ass.

Rushing forward you pushed your brother back and kneeled next to your ex-boyfriend. You cupped his cheeks and turned his face to assess the damage.

“It’s fine,” he whispered and avoided making eye contact as he got up.

You picked up his cane and handed it to him, “Do you want to come in?”

He scratched his stubble before rubbing his neck, “Wilson is waiting for me.”

Cocking her head, “Come inside and ice that.” You told him, leaving no room for argument.

Hesitantly he crossed the doorway behind you. You asked your brother to leave you guys alone which he grudgingly did.

Leading him to the kitchen, he sat down and waited silently while you gathered some ice and wrapped a towel around it. Grabbing a chair and pulling it to sit in front of him, gently you placed the cool cloth against the forming bruise. A muscle twitched in his jaw at the contact with the cold material.

“I’m sorry he did that. There’s no justification.”

Looking anywhere but at you, he took the towel from your hand, “It’s fine.”

Sighing, you sat back in the chair and stared at him.

“I was an idiot.”

Your brows drew together, you crossed your legs and placed your hands on top of your knee, “You didn’t do anything.”

Slamming the drenched by now fabric from the melted ice on the table, “That’s the point. I didn’t stop you from leaving.”

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it.

“I hated seeing Stacy happy with Mark, but I don’t love her.”

Shaking your head, “Everybody lies, Greg, right?”

Rubbing his hand down his face and nodded once, “The truth is, yes I kissed her. And yes, I slept with her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked quietly, fiddling with a bracelet that he once gave you.

“Because I need you to understand that I don’t want her, I want you, I love you!”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, “That’s not enough, Greg.” You whispered sadly.

Blowing an exasperated breath he stood up and rubbed his forehead.

You stared at your shoes and silence fell in the room.

“Move in.” He muttered as he turned sharply to look at you.

His words made your gaze shoot up to meet his.

“You can’t do this.” He almost begged.

Uncrossing your legs and turning to face him completely, your eyebrows scrunched together, “Can’t do what?”

“You can’t call us quits. I choose us. You. I choose you.”

Rising from your seat, you stepped up to him and adjusted the lapels of his jacket, a small smile played on her lips.

His eyes danced across her face, he slowly reached to tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Gregory House, you are such a pain in my ass.”

Letting out a smile back, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a deep kiss.

Pulling back, you giggled, “Isn’t Wilson still waiting for you outside?”

Licking his lips, eyes still closed, he hummed, “He doesn’t matter right now.” He answered before kissing you again.

[d3adlyromb3ar]

‧₊˚‧₊˚ if walls could talk

— pairing. neighbor!choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. you have been having issues with your ex, who tends to invade your space and make himself at home. unbeknownst to you, your neighbor is very observant and doesn’t know if he can sit back and watch you suffer alone anymore.

— word count. 3k

— contents. angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, language, smoking, mentions of injuries to reader, mentions of assault/abuse, mentions of manipulation, choso being such a sweetheart

— notes. credit to @\\yume041924 (left artwork) and @\\oss²¹ (right artwork) both on twitter i believe. thank you @saradika for the dividers 🤍

main masterlist

The picture shook and rattled on the wall, again. If he stayed quiet enough, he could make out a few words. All coming from a male voice.

He sighed, leaning his head to rest it on the back of the couch. He had every right to get up and stomp his way over, telling whoever was yelling to shut up. But he never followed through with that urge, instead listening in when he could— trying to find out what was going down.

He knew you lived there, and he thought it was just you. Time and time again he’d overhear a man shouting, and he wondered if it was a sibling or a partner— which didn’t sit right with him. If either of those were the case, he wondered what they were yelling at you about.

He wasn’t a nosy person, truly he lived a boring life and kept to his routine and business. However, as soon as the shouting began, around the same time every night— his curiosity forced him to listen in. His breathing slow and quiet as his ears strained to make out the words that were being spat.

He never heard you though. Never. That thought for some reason— didn’t sit well with him.

He almost dozed off, the constant shouting becoming a daily ambience, but the sound of the yells suddenly dying down— he perked up.

There was one last shout, still unable to make out the words— then the familiar door slam. The kind of slam that most likely woke the whole floor and maybe the ones below as well.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stand from his comfortable spot and walk over to the door— but there he was, staring through the peek hole. He wondered what he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t your form slumped against the door.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, and he thought to himself— should I really get involved? Maybe it’s nothing.

However, he fought down that thought quickly and slowly and quietly opened his door.

You immediately perked up, head snapping up from the barely audible creak from his door. You relaxed slightly, seeing that it was only your neighbor, Choso.

You wiped your cheeks quickly, smoothing down your hair to make yourself look less— hectic.

“Evening Choso.” You greeted, your voice sweet as always— but right now it didn’t match the way your features were pulled down.

He leaned against his doorway, looking down at your balled up form. Knees hugged to your chest.

“Hey.” He started, deciding to cut straight to the point. “Everything okay? Thought I heard a slam.”

Your cheeks flushed, the possibility of others hearing what goes on in your apartment embarrassing. You felt guilty and you didn’t know why— not that you were the one causing the chaos.

“Yeah, just got into an argument with someone.” You admitted.

He couldn’t control his curiosity.

“Boyfriend?”

You scoffed, a weak smile on your lips.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected him.

Choso nodded.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, we’ve been broken up for months now.”

Choso furrowed his brows, wondering why you were still involved with your ex. Was it one of those weird situations, where you break up but you’re not really broken up? He thought to himself that he shouldn’t care too much, it was your business after all.

“I know it seems weird and you’re probably confused but, we’ve just been trying to… settle things. Not get back together but y’know, just really put that final nail in the coffin.” You rambled on, explaining yourself when you probably shouldn’t have.

Choso listened patiently but still couldn’t understand the situation. Besides, you looked a little rough and seemed to need someone to talk to. He’d happily be that ear for you.

“Sorry, I’m sure you don’t care about any of this. You’re probably just wanting to get some sleep.” You apologized, and he didn’t understand why.

“I don’t sleep well anyway,” He tried to joke, to lighten your mood. “Plus, if you need to talk— You can always talk to me.”

You smiled at that, heart hurting at the way you were receiving kindness from your neighbor— someone you weren’t that close with. That’s the only kindness you’d get, you thought bitterly.

“Thanks. I… I really appreciate that.” You thanked him genuinely. “I hope you’re not just saying that because, I will talk your ear off if you give me the opportunity.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and echoing throughout the hallway. It was such a calming sound.

“I don’t mind.” He assured you, closing his door completely and sliding down the wood— now sat across from you.

Your mouth formed into an O shape, not realizing how literal he meant his words.

“Oh— You mean now?”

He smirked.

“Seems like a good time, yeah.”

You sent him a small smile, tilting your head back towards your door— listening in for a moment before facing him again. Choso was confused.

“I don’t even know where to start.” You trailed off, voice quieter ever since you glanced back to your door.

“How about starting off why you two were fighting tonight?” He offered, trying to get the conversation going.

He was happy to see that you weren’t uncomfortable with him suddenly barging in on your personal life— your business.

“Yeah that,” You cringed, “Well, he came over unexpectedly— again. I asked him to leave and he started begging me to get back with him, and just kept trying to list off reasons why I should get back with him. Kinda felt more like he was trying to sell me something rather than want me back.”

Choso cringed at how pathetic this guy sounded.

“It doesn’t matter what I say or how many times I try to convince him that I don’t feel that way for him anymore. He won’t ever believe me when I tell him I’ve moved on.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Not that I get to speak much around him anyway, he rarely lets me talk— let alone finish a fucking sentence.”

“Why do you let him in?” Choso asked, genuinely intrigued in this situation.

“Well, I don’t mean to honestly— he pushes his way past me everytime.”

“Why even open the door?” He asked another.

You sighed, looking up to Choso with a defeated expression.

“I don’t know honestly… I know I shouldn’t but… I can’t help but feel like I owe him that.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning forward towards you.

“You don’t owe anyone anything, especially this guy.”

His words made their way to your brain and physically you processed it— but mentally you had a hard time. Years of the exact opposite had been spit at you, from your ex— among many other disgusting things.

“Y-yeah… yeah you’re right actually.” You whispered, eyes focused on your thumb tracing random patterns on your knee.

Choso’s gaze softened at you solem expression, knowing that there was more to the story than you’d let on.

“Listen, I don’t know the exact details of what went on in the relationship but, you need to know that you are your own person. You aren’t in that relationship anymore and you don’t owe him anything. It didn’t work out, and he needs to move on and leave you alone.”

You nodded, truly appreciating his words— needing desperately to hear all of this.

Choso let the hallway sit in silence for a moment, getting lost in his own thoughts. He bit his bottom lip, nervous to even ask his next one— but he had a bad feeling. With the way you were acting, like a kicked puppy— he had to ask.

“(Y/n)?” He grabbed your attention, your sad eyes meeting with his, “He hasn’t… he hasn’t hurt you right?”

His question shouldn’t have made your stomach knot up, your throat suddenly dry. But you sat and stared at him, watching his eyes dance all around your features— all while you tried not to throw up.

Choso could only watch as you stared at him, your eyes almost shining in a certain scream for help— he had him unsettled.

“(Y/n)?” He tried to get your attention again.

You swallowed through your tight throat, focusing on keeping your dinner down— while also trying to force yourself to respond.

Choso didn’t need you to respond though— your silence was the answer he needed. It made him sick for you.

“I know I need to end this and just… kick him out of my life already but…” You finally spoke, voice tense.

“But what?” Choso pushed, “There’s not a good enough reason to endure abuse like that.”

You swallowed and wanted to argue, but found yourself agreeing with him. You nodded, not even attempting to finish your sentence.

“Yeah… I know.” You whispered, voice barely audible— but Choso caught it.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, you just deserve so much better than this.”

You found your cheeks dusting with pink, the passion in his voice shocking but appreciated. Choso seemed to notice your reaction and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Listen, I know we don’t know each other all too well but, from what I do know of you— you’re sweet and kind and always trying to help others.” He expressed, “I saw you that day the old woman from downstairs needed help with carrying packages to her room.”

His words had you smiling from the memory, remembering exactly what he was referring to.

“She was complaining the entire time you were helping her, saying you were doing that wrong— and this wrong.”

“Oh god yeah, I remember.” You giggled.

“But you helped her regardless, and you did it with a smile— even offering to cook her dinner afterwards.” He noted. “You have a good heart and I think that it gets you into trouble sometimes— like giving this asshole the time of day.”

You blushed deeper, his words making you fill with warmth.

“Choso I…” You started, but couldn’t find the right words.

He sighed this time and thought that he was going a bit overboard— but he spoke again anyway.

“What I’m trying to say is that, although I don’t know you that well— I can still see that you deserve better. The best even.” He finished.

Your cheeks felt hot now, the pink covering almost your entire face with how flustered you were. It was such an endearing thing to hear someone say such kind things about you. You weren’t used to it— but it had your chest warm.

“Gosh, seems like you know me pretty well for someone who claims they don’t.” You joked, cheeks still flushed.

He chuckled and relaxed back into the door.

“I’m observant.”

“I can see that.” You told him shyly.

“But, I would really like to get to know you better.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but you felt your cheeks get redder. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so flustered by someone’s words. It didn’t help that the way he was gazing at you was so deep— something you’d never experienced before.

“I’d like that.”

At that, both of Choso and you smiled— letting them get lost in each other’s eyes for a second. The moment was quickly interrupted by a loud thump coming from inside your apartment.

Choso’s eyes shifted from yours, squinting at the door before meeting back with yours.

“What was…” He began to ask before it suddenly clicked, “Is he inside your apartment right now?”

All too soon, the familiar wave of stress could be felt flowing throughout you— at the mere mention of him.

“Unfortunately.” Your tone was full of embarrassment. “He locked me out.”

Choso’s gaze narrowed on the door for a moment, picturing your ex’s face— wishing that man could see the pure rage within his eyes. Choso was seeing red, completely over this clown of an ex. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so protective of you. He blamed it on the pure fact that you were a kind soul that needed protecting. He happily be there if you needed him.

“God, what a shit show.” He indicated that he was completely talking about your ex.

You giggled, a weak smile returning to your lips.

“Tell me about it. All I wanted to do was relax after work, watch some cheesy tv show and go to bed… but guess not.”

Choso chewed on his bottom lip, debating his next words.

“You can crash at my place tonight.” He offered, watching the way your eyebrows shot up, quickly adding, “If you want, that is.”

You smiled at him, wondering where this angel of a man came from. It felt too good to be true to have someone like him, in a moment like this.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“I’m sure. You won’t be a bother.” He reassured you, causing your cheeks to dust pink once again.

You bowed your head in his direction.

“Well, then thank you. I appreciate it.”

He waved you off, before standing up and offering you his hand to your spot on the floor.

“I’m sure after the night you’ve had, you’re probably tired, hm?” He started, “Why don’t we get inside?”

You could only smile his way before letting your hand drop into his large palm. He hoisted you up with no effort, the position letting you take in just how tall he was. He practically towered over you— and he smelled really good.

He smirked down at you and turned to unlock his door, swinging it open and standing to the side for you to step in. All while he still held your hand.

As soon as you stepped inside, he was closing the door— at last letting go of your hand.

You wanted to hit yourself for thinking such thoughts about him. His hands were so big, his fingers so long and thick— the pads of his fingers were a little rough. Not that you minded, it felt rather nice compared to your soft ones.

“You can take my bed. I’ll take the couch.” His voice broke you from your lustful thoughts.

“Really? I’d feel bad if I—”

“(Y/n), just take the bed. You’re fine.” He interrupted, voice gentle. “I told you I don’t sleep that well anyway, I’ll just be chilling on the couch.”

You sent him an appreciative smile, unable to control the slight guilt you still felt for sleeping in his bed. It seemed so random— you were a stranger to him. Well, I guess not completely. After talking with him tonight, you felt like you had known each other forever. Conversation flowed so easily with him, it was refreshing.

“Well, if you decide in the middle of the night that you want your bed back— you can kick me out. I won’t be mad.”

He chuckled at that.

“Alright then.”

You couldn’t argue with yourself that you weren’t tired— because you were exhausted. After an already busy day and then your ex’s bullshit. You craved a good nights rest. It pained you to go to bed though, you wanted to keep talking with Choso.

You watched, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as Choso situated the pillows on the couch, plopping down before he glanced over to you.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

Your heart seemed to continue to swell, all his kind gestures and words overwhelming to a point— you just weren’t used to so much kindness.

“Thank you Choso.” You told him wholeheartedly, sending him one last smile. “Goodnight.”

“Night (Y/n).”

With that, you were heading into his room— leaving the door cracked. At first glance, his room was quite organized— the color scheme pleasing. It was a much darker vibe, the low lighting setting the tone immediately. It felt relaxing in here, like a good place to sleep. Plopping down on the bed finally, you didn’t even rush to get under the covers. You curled up in a ball on your side, the cooling comforter rubbing against your skin just right— it almost had you dozing off immediately. And you would have— if it wasn’t for Choso’s distinct scent on the sheets.

The woodsy, minty musk had your senses going into overdrive. It was such an intoxicating scent, the smell surrounding you completely— your own clothes bled on. It smelled exactly how he smelled when you had caught his scent earlier.

His scent had managed to rile you up, but then lull you asleep. The mere thought that it was indeed his scent making you feel at ease— comfortable.

You had never expected your neighbor Choso to be the one to bring you that comfort you so craved ever since the breakup. But in this moment, while you dozed off in your same position on the bed— you realized it was his fault that your walls were coming down. Never before had you trusted someone so quickly in your life.

Meanwhile, Choso had snuck out to his balcony— lighting a cigarette as he needed to get lost in his thoughts. He always knew about you, he knew that you always lived across from him. He always had this pull to get to know you better— be a better neighbor and all.

Truthfully, you intimidated him. Your beauty was unmatched— along with a heart of gold that nobody could ever top. He felt like one touch from him and he’d taint your life. Tonight had been somewhat of a pushing point though, finding out more about what you’ve been going through/dealing with. It brought out protective instincts that he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe you were the light that he’d been waiting for in his life— maybe.

Inhaling a deep breath from his cigarette, he wondered if he’d be able to be the light you needed too. He wasn’t sure if he could ever be considered something as good as that— but he’d try his best to be that for you.

part two

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜 (𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙰𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜)

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> Adult humor, Evie wants to climb her boss, Luke & Kieran being problem children, pre-relationship

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

This is wrong on so many levels.

I can't help it, though. At the end of a day, I'm a human. A human who appreciates beauty no matter what style the artwork comes in.

And my boss is a work of freaking art.

I'm trying my hardest not to salivate as I watch the video playing on my laptop, a video that has absolutely nothing to do with the work I just can't seem to focus on. As Sylus' personal assistant, I know the man's routine by heart. Know that he enjoys boxing as a workout. What I didn't know that he has a history of competing in tournaments until now. Filmed tournaments, at that. Hence how I've gotten myself into this position, damn near going feral over a video of my boss duking it out in a boxing ring with another competitor.

I've seen Sylus in athletic attire before, have had to interrupt his workouts time and time again due to the sudden arise of something urgent. I've noticed how sculpted his body is, but have never had time to truly appreciate it. I shouldn't be appreciating it this much, it's just not professional.

But damn, those are a thick set of arms. The cameraman must have been just as obsessed, because even on video, I can see the way his skin glistens with sweat, how his dark top clings to his abdomen.

I should be disturbed by the sudden 'I wish that were me' thought that runs through my head, but I'm not. My attention is too hyper fixated on Sylus' huffs and grunts as he attacks and blocks, something in the pit of my stomach starting to pulse at the concentration etched onto his face.

I can't help but set the end of my pen between my teeth. Then, in a hushed voice, I practically sigh my desires into existence. "I wanna climb that man like a damn tree."

"Which man?"

I scream and slam my laptop shut. Whipping my spinning desk chair around, I stare wide-eyed at the insufferable twins who have somehow, once again, slipped into my office undetected. "You- Get out!"

I don't need to see their faces to know they're snickering beneath their masks.

Poking my head into music room, I find Sylus sitting on the very large, very expensive leather couch. His head is tilted back, resting against the top of the couch, arms crossed and eyes closed. He looks to be asleep, but I know that���s not the case.

Quietly, I enter and make my way over to him. Sylus cracks an eye open as I near, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to, and neither do I. Work closely with someone long enough, and words are no longer needed when it comes to certain things.

Flashing him a small smile, I place a glass of whiskey on the small, wooden round table next to the couch. Then I turn and head to the massive wall that showcases his music collection. Sylus has got everything, from classical to blues to jazz, some in the form of records and others in old fashioned tapes.

I select one of the jazz records and carry the big black disk over to the antique record player. I can feel a pair of eyes on me as I work to get the record in place, but it doesn’t intimidate me like it once did. Now, it’s quite comforting in a way I can’t explain. Like I’m being looked after, considered.

I quickly realize that it’s not one pair of eyes watching me, but two, and their intent is not as innocent as I originally thought.

“Hey, boss,” Kieran’s voice comes out of no where. “If you need some time to relax, why don’t you try some tree climbing?”

My body goes still.

“Oak trees are my favourite.” Luke pipes in. “Lots of different sizes and shapes for those ones.”

“I’m rather fond of baobabs myself.” Kieran continues. “I like a challenge.”

They wouldn’t.

But they would.

Luke’s snicker sends my heart into a panicked race. “I know Evie’s favourite tree to climb is a Sy-”

“Sycamore trees!” I exclaim way too loudly, whirling around to face the trio that have altered my life forever. For better or worse is up for debate.

Sylus, who at some point during the interaction sat up, raises a brow at my rather enthusiastic proclamation. Luke and Kieran are standing behind him, and as much as I want to, there’s no way to flip them off without Sylus noticing. Bastards.

“Sycamore trees.” Sylus repeats slowly, as if he’s still processing whatever the hell is going on here. I can’t blame him.

‘Too late to back out now.’

Nodding firmly, I fold my hands behind my back. “Yes. Their branches are very thick. Nice and sturdy.”

Luke sinks to the floor while Kieran starts to tremble with the strain of trying to remain composed.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. “And where, pray tell, have you found a sycamore tree to climb?”

I blink, my brain taking a second too long to come up with an answer. “My childhood. The N109 Zone wasn’t always this way, you know?”

I need to get out of here before this turns into something I’ll never be able to recover from.

“Oh, you’ve finished your drink. Allow me to take care of that for you.” I zip over to him and pluck the empty glass from the table. “Enjoy the rest of your quiet time, Sir. I’ll make sure this glass is cleaned with tender loving care.”

At that, Luke and Kieran, who have been fighting to stay quiet, erupt into two volcanos of cackles. My face heats as I dart out of the music room, practically slamming the large door behind me.

My legs are moving with the speed of a roadrunner, and I yank my phone from my pocket to send a message to the twins.

Little V

I am going to murder the both of you and bury you in the same grave.

Then I’ll take myself out on top of it.

Nestled in the heart of the N109 Zone, hidden within a false exterior of an old warehouse, is a library so grand it’s almost something out of my dreams. Tall, creaky wooden shelves almost reach the ridiculously high ceiling, rickety sliding ladders mounted every couple cases to give customers access to the higher levels.

These records and books are so old, not just anybody can access them. But when the boss of Onychinus comes knocking with his entourage in tow, entrance is given without question.

“I appreciate the ambiance, but do they really have to make it so dark in here?” I huff, squinting as I scan yet another line of books for the tome my boss is looking for.

Said boss is working through the section behind me, a pillar of calm despite the almost twenty minutes we’ve been searching. “I thought you would be more excited about this. We’re surrounded by your favourite toys, kitten.”

I roll my eyes at that climb another step on the ladder. “My favourite ‘toys’ involve different worlds and people falling in love, not the history of the real world or people who’ve lived in it.”

The titles on the spines start to blur together, a sign that my eyes need a break. Turning my head with a sigh, I stare at the bookcases behind me, scan the upper shelves since I, for once, have the height advantage between the two of us.

That’s when I spot it, a thick book bound in old leather, the trim along the top and bottom of the spine done in rusted metal. The spine is so worn the title is illegible, but I saw pictures of what Sylus is after, and there’s no doubt that this is it.

Instead of climbing down to move the ladder, I grab onto the shelves and pull to wheel it closer to the tome. Once in position, I turn, essentially standing backwards on the ladder, and go for it. The aisle is narrow enough that I can reach it, even though I do have to lean forward a little.

My fingers just manage to tilt the tome out of the lineup when the ladder’s step gives out from under me. I plummet with a screech, the tome falling with me and hitting the floor with a loud thud.

I, however, never land. I’m caught before I can get that far, something strong and solid gripping me beneath my thighs. On reflex I wrap my arms and legs around whatever saved me. Or rather, who saved me. The realization comes quickly, that my saviour is my boss, and that my boss’ very large, very strong arms and hands are supporting me. That his heavenly sculpted abs are nestled between my thighs, his broad and dependable shoulders solid beneath my hands.

‘I am going to spontaneously combust.’

Sylus, who had stumbled back a step from the sudden catch, narrows his eyes. “Either you planned this on purpose, or you’ve forgotten that my Evol is useful.”

Right. I’ve witnessed him lift men off their feet with his Evol. “I-”

A wolf whistle echoes down the aisle, followed by a voice. Luke’s voice. “Wow, Evie. You finally made it to the top of your sycamore tree.”

Kieran starts to applaud. “Are those branches as thick and sturdy as you imagined?”

Those two. Dead. Now.

I thrash in Sylus’ arms until he ungracefully drops me, then I bolt after the twins who have already started running.

Three minutes later, all four of us are being kicked out.

At least we got what we came for.

[love-toxin]

I just can't stop thinking of just.. Adrian planning out how to court you. Maybe you're a student, maybe you're one of the staff, maybe just a passerby at the museum who he had a lovely chat with. He gets to know your likes, your hobbies, where you live, your relationships status, ect. Head over heels in love, truly feeling like he's being given a second chance after everything he had to go thru… and the next thing he knows, he sees you in a maid outfit on Lyza's phone. (thank u for ur new OCs, I am in love)

anon u have such delicious ideas >:)

(cws: gn!darling, mild shoving, jealousy)

Lyza barely has a moment to breathe before Adrian shoves her up against the wall, his palm firmly splayed over her chest as he pins her to it. He’s been laying in wait for her to arrive in the faculty lounge, knowing when she’ll arrive down to the minute, because she always uses the bathroom right after finishing her morning lecture. And with the feverish heat in his eyes, it’s obvious he’s got something rather pressing to talk about.

“What the hell is this?” He mutters quietly, holding up her phone that he swiped off her desk while she was teaching. The lockscreen lights up–and there you are, perched on your knees with a maid’s dress hugging your soft figure. The evidence is right in front of Lyza’s eyes, and all she can do is chuckle. Like she hasn’t done anything wrong. Like she doesn’t know that that’s his student, that he’s your mentor, and that she doesn’t know he already claimed you as his own–even if he hasn’t told you about it yet.

“Ooh, settle down, tiger.” She rolls out the r playfully, although her knees wobble slightly from the sudden shove and the stumble against the wall. “What, did we grow a conscience, now?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He growls, his expression cold and hardened to glare into her. “Don’t be stupid with me, Brighton.” 

A gleam flickers in her eyes. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She probably doesn’t even care for you, he thinks, she just wants to use you as a toy to get a rise out of him. He knows everything there is to know about you! He loves every inch of you, every smile, every flaw, every habit and he would die just to have you look up at him and tell him you feel just the same for him as he does for you. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair! 

“Done brooding?” She laughs, just to grunt softly as he shoves her again, harder this time. His palm slides upward to hold a grip around her neck, and he leans in, his voice low and deep as he readies himself to whisper a threat into her ear. But before he can, the click of the door handle across the room pries him off her in an instant, and he strolls back to his desk without so much as a sour note in his expression. Lyza rubs the sore spot on her throat and plucks her phone off the floor while Adrian casually greets their colleague, the weight of the tense air in the room seemingly sucked out in an instant. 

Both of them make their way to their respective desks while more of the faculty filters in, some coming by to drop off their belongings for their first class of the day, while others return from lunches or office hours to mingle with their fellow professors. Talk of politics and philosophical theory already bubbles in chatter throughout the lounge, but even though Adrian offers smiles to those who greet him on their way by, she can feel his fury still sitting on his back from here.

Minutes later, when he’s refocused to his email box on his laptop, his phone buzzes lightly in his pocket. Although he’s long worked out the habit of checking it religiously–that was something he had to break after the investigation on his wife’s case closed–he finds himself pulling it out and clicking it on without so much as a second thought. 

Thunk! From a few feet away, Lyza grins to herself at the sound of a phone hitting the desk. Adrian’s gaze bores into her with his palm clamped over his mouth, staring even though she’s pretending not to notice him–he has to muffle himself as he turns it back over, so as not to incur any unwelcome attention.

The photo she sent him is pretty clear, after all. Your hair is mussed, the maid’s skirt is lifted up in your gentle hands, and the letters spelled out on your thighs read two very clear messages; For Dr. Moorwell → ← And Dr. Brighton. 

And it figures, doesn’t it? Because Lyza’s always been one for tricks–and as Adrian quietly stands from his desk and briskly makes his way into the hall towards the bathrooms, she taps away at all the other photos she snapped this morning, and the videos she recorded of you teary-eyed and whining. It didn’t take much to get you to admit your feelings for your beloved Dr. Moorwell, on camera no less. The least she can do is be a little nice, and let him enjoy the previews before the main act comes later tonight. 

[unclewaynemunson]

The edancy siblings saga continues! | AO3 link

So, in case it hasn't been made absolutely clear yet: Eddie is not a stalker. He is not stalking Karen and Nancy Wheeler. That is not what's happening here. Seriously. They just... appear wherever he goes, lately. Like on the other side of a window when he's in town with Jeff, headed to the record store to spend their Saturday morning listening to the newly released Motörhead album.

It happens before he really knows what he's doing. He can't even help it, he's just like that sometimes: he'll panic and make dumb decisions as a consequence. It's not even a real decision, this time; blame it on his poor impulse control. He's nothing but an unwilling participant in this situation.

'Eddie, no,' Jeff quietly protests.

Eddie, yes, Eddie's brain loudly counters.

'We're having brunch here whether you want it or not,' he blurts out while pressing the menu in Jeff's hand.

He doesn't think he has ever had brunch in his life – unless having a coffee and a cigarette with Wayne at 12pm on a Saturday counts.

But here he is, about to have brunch in some fancy way-too-expensive looking cafe because he saw a mother and her daughter through a window and his own feet decided to disconnect from his brain and take matters into their own hands. Or rather into their own feet. Or, well, not their feet, his feet don't have feet, that'd be weird as fuck.

Anyway. Apparently he and Jeff are about to have brunch together, with Karen and Nancy Wheeler perfectly lined up in Eddie's vision.

It's a place where neither Eddie nor Jeff would want to be found dead under any normal circumstances. The interior consists of various shades of pink and beige, there are plastic flowers and pink napkins on every table, and the menu on the wall is written in letters so curly that they're barely even readable. The whole place is filled with people from places like Loch Nora and Maple Street, wearing expensive clothes and with even more expensive handbags on the floor next to their chairs. A group of giggling girls that Eddie recognizes as sophomore cheerleaders is sitting in one corner, an old lady with a bunch of blonde nieces or grandchildren in another one, and spread out across the room are countless couples that are all made up of women looking like they just walked out of a copy machine matched with equally bland and bored looking men in button-up shirts. And, among those people, right behind Jeff's shoulder, the woman and the girl who Eddie is very much not stalking.

'What the hell are we doing here, man?' Jeff hisses under his breath. Eddie doesn't quite know who, between the two of them, looks more out of place in here: the trailer park metalhead or the black nerd in the Star Wars shirt.

'Having brunch,' Eddie states, like it's not only obvious but also a perfectly normal thing for them to do. He's not really looking at Jeff, but rather staring right over his friend's shoulder. He tries to imagine himself somewhere at that table; it conjures a truly laughable image in his head.

Jeff is right: what the hell is he doing here? He keeps finding himself on the fringe of a life that will never be his anyway.

'Eddie?'

It sounds worried; Eddie rapidly blinks a few times to get himself back to earth, back to his own table. The one he's sharing with Jeff, who looks at him like he's afraid that Eddie will tell him he has some incurable illness and will die a tragic death within weeks.

'You wanna tell me what's going on?'

But before Eddie can even begin to answer that, they're interrupted by a woman in a pink apron who looks at them from behind her glasses like she's ready to call the cops on them.

'Would you boys like to order something?' she asks in a tone that doesn't conceal very well how desperately she wants the answer to be no.

'Just a coffee, please, ma'am,' Jeff says, at the exact same time Eddie tells her they'll both have 'The brunch special, please, with extra scrambled eggs and bacon.'

He can barely suppress a yelp when Jeff kicks him underneath the table.

The waitress shoots an annoyed, yet slightly helpless, look back and forth between the two boys.

Eddie gives Jeff a pigheaded glance and repeats his order with emphasis.

'What the hell is this all about?' Jeff hisses at him as soon as the waitress has her back turned to them. 'I know you don't have the money for that, I'm not gonna pay for this huge fucking breakfast, dude!'

Eddie widens his eyes while pushing his lower lip forward, causing Jeff to give him another painful kick against his shin – but also to sigh with his head in his hands, which Eddie immediately recognizes as the ultimate sign of defeat.

'Okay, then. But only if you tell me why the hell we're here.'

Almost subconsciously, Eddie brings his hand up to his mouth and starts gnawing at his already chewed-off fingernails. His curls have finally reached shoulder-length, and he likes the way he can hide behind his hair now.

The thing is, he has never talked about this with anyone ever before. He doesn't know if he can. It's not even like he believes he owes Karen Wheeler any of her secrets; of course he doesn't. He simply feels like it's too big to talk about. He cannot foresee the consequences of letting the truth out. Right now, it's just this thing constantly simmering right beneath the surface of his brain; if he actually talks about it with someone, it will undoubtedly become much, much more than that. It'll become something real – something ugly.

Apparently, Jeff catches him staring, because he turns around in his seat to look over his shoulder.

When he whips his head back, his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape.

'Dude,' he says, slowly. 'You can only deny it so many times; you do have a crush on Nancy Wheeler!'

Eddie groans and buries his head in his hands.

'Oh my God, please never say that ever again.'

'Holy fuck.' Something resembling malicious glee is coloring Jeff's voice. 'You totally–'

'I said,' Eddie emphatically hisses at him between clenched teeth, 'never say that again.'

'Dude, you should totally ask her out! I'd give you a two percent chance she says yes, but if the gods are willing to grant us that miracle, it'll give me a chance to get closer to Barbara! You should–'

Eddie can't take it any more, not one word of this. He has to put a stop to this right now.

'Remember how I told you I never knew who my mother is?' he blurts out, the words stringing together too fast and his voice slightly too high.

Jeff's face instantly changes into one big question mark.

'Look at her – at Nancy,' Eddie tells him in a hushed voice. 'And at Mrs. Wheeler.'

Jeff dares another glance over his shoulder. Nancy and her mother don't seem to notice a thing about the two metalheads three tables away from them. They're caught up in what looks like a nice and easygoing conversation, full of smiles while they're sipping from large glasses filled with ginger tea.

'Now look at me.'

Jeff looks at Eddie for a full five seconds, neither of them saying a word.

'Dude...' Jeff finally all but whispers. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

Before Eddie can even do so much as nod, the waitress appears out of thin air next to them and ungracefully dumps two huge plates filled with a whole arrangement of breakfast foods on their table.

'Nooooo,' is all Jeff says after the waitress has disappeared, his voice dropped down to a conspiring whispering volume. He stretches out the single syllable into eternity. 'No way. Mrs. Wheeler?! How the fuck is that even possible? Are you, like, sure about it?'

Eddie nods. 'Wayne told me,' he confesses. 'Back when my dad got locked up and I came to live with him. He was the only one who knew. Thought he owed it to me to tell me the truth.'

'Jesus Christ,' Jeff says in-between two huge bites from a croissant that's crumbling all over his lap.

'I know, right,' Eddie murmurs.

'So are we like... Watching them?' he asks with a raised brow. 'You do this often?'

'No, man!' Eddie quickly ensures him. 'Not, like, actively, at least,' he adds, feeling a bit embarrassed. He shoves some more eggs into his mouth to buy himself some more time.

'I dunno why I seem to enjoy hurting myself so much,' he finally explains when his mouth is empty again. 'Whenever I see any of 'em, I just... Can't seem to look away. And I can't help but wonder what it would've been like if she'd made another decision eighteen years ago. I know it's ridiculous, because if she had, Ted Wheeler would never have married her, so those three kids wouldn't even have existed, and it would've been me and her against the world or some bullshit.' He sighs again. 'I know it doesn't make any fucking sense. I'm dwelling on things that aren't even real.'

When he looks up from his toast, he sees Jeff giving him this look that kinda makes him regret sharing anything. He doesn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake.

'Nah, I get it more than you think, man,' Jeff says quietly. 'I always think about what it would be like if my dad was still here, y'know. It's not just the big moments, when people tell me he'd be proud of me or some shit like that. It's especially in the little moments. The everyday kinda shit. I wonder if he'd have shared music with me, if he'd read the same books as I do, if he'd ever help my mom go grocery shopping, what it would be like if he helped me with my homework... It's only natural that you do that, I think. Maybe we all do it, to a certain extent; rewrite history a little bit in our heads.' He gives Eddie a tight, sad smile.

'It's probably even worse for you,' he continues. 'I only see my dad in pictures and I still miss him like hell every single day. But at least I still have my mom to tell the coolest stories about him. I have a grave where I get to mourn him properly. We have all those made-up rituals to commemorate him together. But you – you got none of that. You only got questions that got answered with more questions. And you get to see your mother and your siblings walk around town all the time, knowing that they have no clue who you are.'

Eddie keeps his gaze focused on the crumbs on the table to prevent himself from showing any emotions he doesn't want to show. Damn, what would he be without Jeff and his boundless amounts of wisdom?

'Wait, does she know?' Jeff suddenly asks.

When Eddie looks up, he sees a frown on Jeff's face, like he's worried about something.

'I don't think so,' he answers. 'I ran into her at Melvald's once. Tried to talk to her, just to see what'd happen. Made a complete fool of myself, of course. It was embarrassing as shit, but at least I can be pretty sure she thought I was just some random lunatic.' He sighs. 'But I'll never be entirely sure.'

Three tables over, the Wheeler ladies have finished their tea and are getting up from their seats.

'You're right, it was stupid going here,' Eddie mumbles.

'It's okay, man,' Jeff says, still in that soft voice filled with understanding. 'The food's pretty amazing. We still got plenty of time to go to the record store when we're done with this. Speaking of which... I bet you fifteen dollars to buy Another perfect day that you can't finish your plate before me.'

Eddie stares at him blankly. 'I don't have fifteen dollars.'

Jeff's face breaks out in a wicked grin. 'Well, in that case you better buckle up and finish your eggs real soon, Munson.'

It doesn't entirely take Eddie's mind off the Wheelers, but he appreciates the gesture so he grins and starts viciously attacking a bunch of sausages. And when he spares a glance towards the bar to see the horrified look on the waitress' face, he finds himself unable to hold in his laughter.

[wafel1160]

Chapter 4 of my Catday fic, “stay with me”

Chapter 1, 2, 3 , 4

Catnap yawned as he woke up back in their home.To catnap, yesterday felt like a dream. He felt that it was too good to be true. He rubbed his eyes to see Dogday already awake. He was sitting at their small desk. Catnap quietly got out of his sleeping bag. He leaned over Dogday’s shoulder. The dog was looking at their new script.

‘Episode 30: Doggy down.’

Catnap sighed, causing Dogday to almost fall out of his chair. Catnap caught him of course. “Oh- hello?” Dogday said surprised but still kept a low voice.

“I can’t believe we’ve hit 30 episodes.” He said, picking up the script. There were visible notes and highlights on the paper. Catnap chuckled at the episode title. “Good thing you just have to lay down and sleep all day” Catnap quoted Dogday.

The canine laughed.“Ah good memories. It feels like the first episode was just yesterday. “

“Yeah, good memories.“ Catnap said sarcastically.

“Oh-“ Dogday grabbed his calendar. “You have an appointment after practice” Catnap put his face into Dogday’s shoulder and groaned.

“Look- it’s probably not that bad. Probably just checking up on you- making sure nothing bad happens.”

Catnap started to cough. “I think I’ll go outside.“ He said, trying to hold in a coughing fit.

Catnap went ‘outside.’ He stared at the blue walls. He truly was trapped. Catnap thought of the interaction with the strange person. The “prototype” he called himself. Catnap didn’t know how we were going to come into contact with him. Catnaps ear suddenly twitched.

He heard familiar giggling. “Catnap. “ Catnap followed the sound. He pressed a hand against the wall. Behind one of the play sets, there was a hole. It was in the wall and looked like it was bitten and scratched. Catnap looked closer into the hole- only to see two eyes staring at him. The creature walked into the dim light.

The creature was a miniature Hoppy hopscotch. It had a walkie talkie in its mouth. Catnap began to cough again, causing the plush to back up. But it came back to place the item in Catnap’s paws. Catnap grabbed it and messed with the buttons.

“Hello Catnap.” A staticky voice said. Catnap recognized the voice. “Hello” He said back.

“The first step to escape is knowing your surroundings. “ The prototype spoke.

Catnaps eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” He looked around. Still the same old blue walls.

“Know any possible escape routes and know where you can’t be tracked. “

Catnap understood now. But how was he possibly going to find those? “I have an appointment later, and shooting to do- I might not have time. “Catnap heard the critters chatting. “I have to go now, the others are waking up. “ Catnap held the walkie talkie behind him.

“See you again,“

Catnap opened the door. The critters were busy talking and just gave him a quick glance and a wave. Catnap crept to his spot. He grabbed his bag and stuffed the walkie inside.

“Awe Catnap gets to tuck you into bed” Bobby suddenly called out. She put a paw on her face.

“Oh yeah- it’s a shame he doesn’t say anything” Dogday added. Not exactly understanding why she reacted that way.

“Let me see that script” Catnap grumbled as he snatched the script from Bobby.

“Hey! Just get another copy” Dogday took the script from Catnap. He gave it back to Bobby who looked at the cat awkwardly. Dogday grabbed another script and handed it to Catnap- who just looked at him tiredly.

“Uh oh- mommy and daddy are fighting” Hoppy whispered to Kicken and Bobby. They started to snicker. Catnap growled at them.

Bubba frantically searched his bag. “Picky I swear! I was supposed to use that for my experiments! It wasn’t intended for eating!” Bubba yelled at picky. She only smiled sheepishly.

“Dogday! She did it again!”

“She’s a pig- what did you expect?” Kicken said.

Picky started to sob. “Dogday! Tell him to shut up!” She whined.Hoppy smacked kicken on the back of his head.

“What the heck! Dogday- I’m not wrong right?”

“Everyone just calm down,” Bobby tried to say.

“Tell that to the person that keeps hitting me!” Kicken bites back.

Dogday clenched his fists. “Everyone enough!” He had raised his voice slightly. “ Let’s just get through the script. “ He quickly put on a smile.

Catnap went to speak- but was interrupted by a soft voice.

“Don’t worry Dogday “ It was crafty. “Here, maybe you can draw something. It doesn’t have to be good. “ She took out her sketchbook.

Dogday gave her a small smile. “I’m okay Crafty.”

“Holy fuck- the episode is coming true” Kicken whispered. He heard Dogday sternly say "language!"

“Omg your right!” Hoppy stated, flipping through the pages.

“We’ll start practice in an hour! “ Dogday stated before walking back to the desk.

Crafty went to walk to him- but Catnap stopped her. With his tail in her way, he walked to the desk.

“Hey after this- do you want to help me with something?” Catnap asked, trying to appear nonchalant. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous.

“It depends! Shooting will take a while, and plus your appointment. “ Dogday listed.

Catnap groaned. “It’s not like they ever help me!”

Catnap looked to Dogday- who was looking at a strange file. “What’s that?”

Dogday quickly covered the paper. “Nothing important. Anyways I’m sure they’re -“

Catnap snatched the folder from his paws. He read the name, ‘Experiment 1160’

“Dogday- this is,” Catnap felt guilty. He didn’t think Dogday thought of things like that. It made him think of how their lives were stripped away from them.

Catnap looked at the pictures. “Jee, we used to be so small” The feline tried to make light of the situation.

“Yeah,” Dogday gave a small bittersweet smile.

“Oh, I learned something. “ Dogday said with a cheerful voice “Apparently I was in training to be a service dog! “ Catnap squinted his eyes. He didn’t know what that meant.

Dogday laughed. “I don't know what that is either- I don’t remember “

Catnap paused. “I think I was just a lazy kitty”

Dogday snorted. “Don’t say that!” He said while laughing. “I’m sure you were more than that Catnap. You're much more to me.”

Catnap paused. He had a huge grin on his face.“I-“

Dogday pushed him away with a script.

“Now stop bothering me” He looked away shyly. Why does it feel weird to say that?

Catnap felt a lot better after that. His tail curled as he walked by the others.

They were sitting in a circle in the living room. “I wonder what happened. “ Crafty said, a small frown formed.

“They're going to drive each other crazy.” Bobby sighed. She was never going to become the matchmaker she always dreamed to be.

“They'll drive us crazy first” Kicken joked.

Bobby opened her picture book. She said, “I’m never gonna get them as a couple.” She showed them one page in the book that was dedicated to the two. "I'm still waiting for a confession- or a kiss! but it will never happen!"

“Oh can I see !” Hoppy perked up. Bobby handed her the book. Hoppy flipped through the pages. “14 long years in this place. “ She said, feeling numb.

“Alright everyone! Rehearsal starts now” Dogday claps his paws. They all go outside.

“1-2-3 Scene!” Dogday snapped a clapper.

“Morning everyone! “ Bobby said.

“It’s such a sunny day! "Hoppy added.

“Speaking of sunny- where’s Dogday? And kicken-?” Bubba asked. Weird how the script didn’t include Catnap.

Catnap listened from inside the house. He was busy writing something. A plan. He grabbed the calendar. The feline checked everyone’s appointments.

What time does rehearsal usually start?

He checked Dogday’s personal agenda. The first page had the number ten circled.

“Hey! Good morning everyone!”

Catnap’s ears perked up. Dogday really sounded tired. I can’t even tell if he’s acting.

He stared out the window. His poor doggy. He looked down at his notebook. Catnap picked up the pen and wrote something down. He started to blank as he stared at the paper.

“Scene 2!” He heard Dogday yell. Suddenly the door slammed open. Catnap scrambled all the papers.

“Oh hey Catnap!” Bobby said.

“Hey” he said trying to distract her from his frantic movement.

“It’s time for Dogday to stay still for an hour,” She joked.

“Hey I can do that!” Dogday said finally entering the house. He walked to the couch and plopped on to the sofa

“You don’t even stay still in your sleep Dogday” catnap leaned over the sofa.

Dogday groaned, his voice muffled by the cushion. Hoppy threw a blanket over him. “Just start the scene” Dogday rolled on his back, grabbing the blanket. Dogday looks at the ceiling as the others act their lines.

“That’s a fever alright!” Dogday heard bubba say.

Suddenly Dogday smells a strong scent. He sat up and looked over to the window, where the scent was coming from. He saw a glimpse of a purple figure. This made Dogday get off the sofa.

“Dogday you seriously need to stay still” Hoppy said- we need you in the sofa to do the scene”

Dogday didn’t stop to tell her how that didn’t exactly make sense. He was too engrossed in what he had just seen. The scent felt familiar- but he didn’t remember where.

“Doooogday!” Picky shook Dogday out of his thoughts. “This is the scene where we bring you noodle soup!” She tells him.

He blinked. “Sorry guys, guess I’m just on edge today.”

Everyone tells him it’s okay and then they go back to acting.

“Thank you, picky! I bet it’ll- where is it?” Dogday recites.

“Oh I got a little hungry on the way here”

Bubba tells Hoppy to get the soup. Hoppy brought actual soup- and ended up slipping on the carpet. It spilled all over Dogday- causing him to scream.

“WHY WOULD YOU ACTUALLY GET SOUP?“ Bubba asked calmly.(reference)

Hoppy yelled right back. “It helps me okay!?”

Dogday felt like crying. That definitely wasn’t in the script.

Suddenly the door swung open. It was Catnap.

Everyone instantly shut up. They instantly knew not to set him off.

Dogday looked over to him. The dog blinked his tears away. “Hey Catnap” he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of scared breaths. Dogday watched as Catnap’s claws grew.

Catnap silently walked over to him. He had a stoic expression, making the other critters shiver.“I need to talk with Dogday- alone” He looked at the others, giving them a silent message. They all leave Dogday and Catnap.

Dogday looked over to Catnap. “What is it you wanna talk about?”

Catnap stared at the floor. He wanted to talk about the mysterious person he meant. He wanted to talk about how they were planning on escaping. But he couldn’t, instead he said, “I- I think it’s getting bad. “

“I noticed, it’s coming back right? “

Catnap nodded. He felt so angry. And when he heard Dogday scream- it just added to what he was already feeling.

“Guess you’ll need the appointment sooner. Do you need to call?” Dogday held Catnap’s hand.

“Ugh- I can wait” Catnap said- trying to hide his grin. His smile quickly faded away as he got into a cough fit.

“Yeah right. “ Dogday teased.

Catnap didn’t realize it but he started coughing up the poppy gas. Dogday backed away. “Oh- oh yeah we need to call right now. “ Dogday ran to the phone, refusing to look back at Catnap. He was afraid that Catnap’s other form was acting up.

Catnap felt his skin stretch and his claws grow. Just breathe. The feline took a deep breath only to let out a growl. Catnap lost consciousness as he pounced at the ground.

Catnap woke up to the familiar office he always visits. Except this time his view was higher than usual. No- no this can't be happening. I should be better by now! Is it wearing off? He panicked, shaking the chains he was shackled too. The room smelled of poppy gas. He looked up at the sound of the door opening. A man with a mask walked in. You deserve to take that mask off. Catnap snarled.

"Experiment 1188" Catnap recognized the voice He groaned. Not only does he have to go through the logs, in this form, but he also had the dumb doctor to accompany him. Being interrogated feels demeaning to him.

"It happens that 1188 has taken longer to turn back into second form." The man looked up, addressing his presence. He cleared his throat. "Hey-" he checked his clipboard. "Theo, what triggered this event?

Same as always. Catnap thought.

"It was Dogday , wasn't it? Don't worry, you will see him again." The doctor said, as if reading his thoughts.

The man already knew what happened- why ask him? Catnap looked up, hoping to get this over with. “Let's focus on something else" The man flipped through his clipboard.

"The prototype will save us" He finally said. He no longer had his cute cartoon voice.

The man looked up, he looked as if he couldn't care less.. He then picked up a pair of gloves. "No one's going to save you Theo," He said, in his voice. "And the Prototype- is locked away. Just like you." He fumbled with the tape recorder. "End of log, moving on to stage 2"

Catnap huffed. What a useless interaction. His ear perks up at the sound of the syringe being picked up. That’s new.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi Cal!! I hope you’re having a nice week!

First of all, I’m so glad that you enjoy my submissions - I’m really happy that I can pay forward even just a little bit of the happiness that your writing brings me! Second, major props on finishing Any Other Way! The ending was absolutely fabulous, just so sweet and exactly what they deserve. I remember when you started it and have really enjoyed reading it! It’s truly a masterpiece of characterization. I love these versions of Buck and Eddie and I’m sorry to see them go (but mostly just happy that they exist)

The first theme for this week is “child-incoming” fics! Very excited to have my heart stolen by all these fictional kids!

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞 (not sorry to see Tommy go but very excited to get to know Dove! This is such a fun twist on the ‘single-father Buck’ trope and I can’t wait to see where you take it!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (omg how did you manage to level up tsunami angst?!?! I’m living for it!!)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (TWATYTK my beloved!!! Chris feeling insecure about his place in Buck’s life! Buck promising that Chris will always be his first kid! That’s that good stuff I love!)

- PCA <3

HEY!!! I do enjoy them so much!!! And thank you!!! I am so glad you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun spending so much time in that world.

LOL child incoming! So true. Didn't even realize I had three of those.

63 for 🪞 (Yay! Glad you're excited to get to know Dove!)"

---

Just… Buck finds himself on a bit of a learning curve. He tries to remind himself that’s to be expected. Every new parent finds themselves a little out of their element, right? It’s not just because she’s already six and he doesn’t know her and she literally won’t ask for anything ever. Like even her most basic needs. 

At first he doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. That seems to be the whole point of whatever she’s doing. 

It starts when his alarm goes off after her first night home with him. Seven in the morning. A reasonable time to start the day, he figured. He’d not expected to get a full night’s sleep, but somehow he did. Hen and Karen had warned him about it. The rough first few transitional nights with many of their foster places. So Buck had been ready to be woken several times by movement or her calling out or any sort of thing. He’s used to sudden wake up calls. He’s a firefighter. But when his alarm goes off, he’s well rested. Uninterrupted. 

He gets up to check on Dove. Pads down the hallway quietly, so as not to wake her. The door is left open a crack from when she went to sleep. When Buck peers in the room, he finds that she’s sitting up in bed, covers hugged around her, hugging her stuffed crocodile and staring at the wall. Wide awake. There’s a disconcerted expression on her face.

“Hey, kiddo,” Buck says gently, knocking softly on the door. “How long have you been awake?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Fair. There isn’t a clock in her room. Maybe he should get one? Can she tell time? He doesn’t actually know. Why didn’t he ask Angie?

“Okay, well,” Buck says. “You can wake me up in the mornings if you need anything. Even if it’s really early.” 

She nods. “Okay.”

Buck doesn’t think much of the interaction at first. Assumes maybe there was a rule in the group home. He doesn’t know. So he brushes it off. But then it keeps happening. 

If he doesn’t offer her drinks and snacks, she never mentions that she’s hungry or thirsty. At one point, she’s licking her lips to wet them before he notices. And he feels like a complete idiot. Like he should be checking in way more. Or way more attuned to her needs. He would know the signs better, if this was Jee or Chris, wouldn’t he?

Later, he takes her to the park nearest the house. He wants to show her that they can have fun. That he wants to be involved. At first, it goes well. They have fun. She likes the swings and the teeter totter. After a while, she starts to get quiet. A little irritable. Buck tries to find out what’s wrong, but before he can, she has an accident. Pees herself, right there. Turns out she’d desperately had to go, but wouldn’t tell him. Buck is at a total loss. 

That’s the only accident she has, but the next two days are marked by similar behavior. 

---

27 for 🔼:

---

He’s in the water. He’s moving. He’s tumbling. He can’t tell which way is up. He’s desperate for air. Things are smacking him as he’s sent careening away from the Panda Express. Away from Shannon and Christopher. 

The thing is, he’s probably going to die. Drowning. Head trauma. Bleeding out. Maybe he’ll be crushed by a vehicle in the water. There are lots of ways this could go badly.

And honestly, he keeps waiting for it. Not in an anticipatory way. He doesn’t want it. But something tells him, this is it. He survived the truck bombing and the embolism for this reason. He did what he needed to do. He did what was important. And now he’s going to die.

But then he just doesn’t. He keeps surviving. It keeps going. Until his lungs are burning and his head is throbbing and the salt in his eyes has temporarily marred his vision. Until he is desperate for relief. Woozy and senseless. 

---

63 for ⚡️:

---

Well, Buck thinks it’s a little more complicated than that. 

“I don’t know,” Buck says. “I’m not close with my parents just because they’re my parents. You and I, we’re not related, but you’re my family in more ways than they ever have been. And that’s about how much we love each other, right? That’s a choice.”

Christopher thinks about that for a minute. 

“I didn’t think about your parents,” he admits.

Buck nods. “Yeah, so it’s different for me, you know? I always had my sister, but other than that… I mean, Bobby’s the first person who made me feel like I had a parent that loved me. And we aren’t related at all.”

“And you were like already old when you met him,” Chris observes. 

“Okay, I was twenty-six. I’m not even old yet, now!”

Chris laughs a little. And Buck knows their talk is working. Thank fuck.

“But the point is,” Buck continues. “Doesn’t matter when we met. Doesn’t matter what our DNA might look like. And it doesn’t matter who else I get to love in my life. You’re my kid, okay?”

“Okay,” Christopher says. Then he turns and hugs Buck back. 

Buck squeezes him tight. 

“I love you so much,” Buck tells him. 

“I love you, too,” Chris says. “We can go home now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Buck says. “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too,” Chris says. “I feel better.”

“I’m glad,” Buck says. “You want to stop for milkshakes on the way home?”

“Yes!” Chris exclaims. “Thank you!”

It’s not until they’re in the truck headed back, each with their own milkshake in hand, that Buck thinks of what Eddie said on their honeymoon. About talking to Bobby. 

It hadn’t seemed pressing, is the thing. It had felt like Eddie was being a little unnecessarily pushy. Buck had promised to consider it, as a term of naming any future son of theirs Robert, but that was it. He hadn’t seen the urgency. But maybe… Well, this whole thing with Christopher has reframed his perspective. Maybe there is harm in leaving this unsaid. Especially if Buck’s main motivator in doing so is fear of rejection. 

Maybe Buck needs to think about this some more. 

Maybe Eddie was right. Damn. He’s definitely going to gloat. 

☆☆☆

Eddie gets home before sunrise. Which isn’t hard exactly, in January. 

He’s tired, sore from a shift with an unexpected amount of heavy lifting, and disappointed to have missed the sort of final moment of moving. He thinks he’ll go back to the old house one last time before it’s no longer theirs. Just to say goodbye. After all, so many big parts of his life happened there. He feels like he owes it more than that. Weird as that is to say about an inanimate structure. 

[captonite]

Soft Is the Bravest Thing

a quiet, serious moment after the chaos of toddler-raising, where Dean finally confides in Cas about the fear that’s haunted him his whole life — that maybe gentleness just isn’t in his nature. But Cas knows better. (Set the night after the discipline conversation from “Soft Hands Only”)

The bunker is quiet. For once.

Chubs is asleep — truly asleep, curled up like a cat under a blanket with a crayon clutched in one tiny fist. Sam had passed out trying to read Goodnight Moon for the third time, his body slumped sideways on her beanbag chair. Dean had snapped a picture. He wasn’t about to let that moment go undocumented.

Now the only sound left is the hum of the old pipes and the soft clink of a beer bottle as Dean sits alone at the kitchen table, rolling it between his hands without drinking.

Cas finds him there, drawn to the faint guilt that still sits like a ghost across Dean’s shoulders.

“You’re brooding,” Cas says gently.

Dean doesn’t look up. “No, I’m… thinking.”

Cas takes the seat across from him and folds his hands together, waiting.

Dean stares down at the bottle, then shrugs once — sharp and awkward.

“I didn’t know if I could do it,” he mutters. “Be... soft. When she looked up at me with those big eyes and asked if I was gonna yell, I just—” He shakes his head. “All I could hear was him.”

Cas watches him for a long moment. “John.”

Dean nods once. That name alone is heavy enough to bend the air.

“I thought about how many times he raised a hand,” Dean murmurs. “How many times I stood in front of Sam, thinking, ‘Just hit me instead. Just—just don’t touch him.’” His voice cracks and he looks away fast, breathing through it.

“I didn’t have anything to model this off of, Cas. I only know what not to do. And that doesn’t feel like enough sometimes.”

“You were afraid you’d fail her,” Cas says quietly.

Dean finally looks up. “I’m afraid I am. That one day, I’ll lose my temper or say the wrong thing and she’ll look at me like I’m him.”

Cas leans in, his voice low and steady. “Dean. You didn’t raise your voice. You didn’t use fear. You didn’t punish her for being a child.”

Dean tries to laugh, but it comes out hollow. “I bribed her with fridge magnets to get her to clean the wall.”

“And she cleaned it. You taught her without hurting her. That is not a failure.” Cas’s tone softens. “That is healing.”

Dean’s eyes burn, and he swallows hard. “But it wasn’t instinct. I had to stop myself. It wasn’t... natural.”

Cas’s expression grows even more tender.

“Dean. Gentleness was never taught to you. It was beaten out of you. But you still found it. You chose it. And that choice — every time — is what makes it real.”

Dean’s mouth twitches, as if he’s trying to believe it but doesn’t know how.

Cas continues, more quietly now. “You were gentle today. Not because it was easy. Because it was right. That’s more than John Winchester ever did.”

Dean leans back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling like maybe if he blinks enough, it’ll stop stinging.

“She calls me ‘Deanie,’” he says after a long beat. “She runs to me like I’m safe. Like I’m… good.”

Cas’s voice is sure. “Because you are.”

Dean lowers his gaze, lets it land on the open doorway — where faint light from Chubs’ nightlight spills into the hall. A beacon of pink and gold stars.

“God, she’s so little,” he whispers. “She’s just… this tiny thing who trusts me with her whole world. And I keep thinking — what if I’m not enough?”

Cas reaches across the table, his hand steady on Dean’s.

“You are,” he says, firm now. “You’re enough. You always have been.”

Dean doesn’t speak. He just grips Cas’s hand a little tighter.

And maybe that’s the thing about softness — it doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes, it shows up as quiet hands across a table. As the absence of shouting. As the ache in a man who swore he’d never become his father — and didn’t.

In the next room, Chubs stirs and murmurs something in her sleep.

Dean listens like it’s the only sound that matters.

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

Teslen and the cliché coffee shop au. :)

Nikola just wanted a blasted cup of coffee. That was all.

He didn't want to wait in lines that were too long for the quality of the coffee, he didn't want to have seasonal flavors shoved into his face. He just wanted a hot drink that contained plenty of caffeine.

He should have made it at home. He would have made it at home, if he hadn't ran out during the long night he had pulled before crashing for a few hours, getting ready, and rushing out.

Nikola turned his back on the bustling over-hyped chain coffee shop and found a smaller one, more...homely looking.

It had the air of a building that had been there for a long time, quietly continuing on despite the bustle around it. But the chalkboard outside stated that it had coffee, tea, and pastry selections.

Nikola pushed open the door and was greeted with the heady scent of coffee, teas, and baked goods, but not in an overwhelming way. Just strong enough to truly entice.

The shop itself was....charming came to mind, but that wasn't quite right.

Dark woods, plenty of cozy spots to sit and drink your beverage, artwork hung on goldish-cream walls, a shelf of books that said 'Take One, Leave One'.

Despite the number of people occupying the shop, it wasn't too loud or too crowded and there wasn't a long line as Nikola walked towards the counter.

Only two people were behind the counter, but the smells drifting from the door that presumably led to the kitchen indicated that there were more people at work there.

The woman was standing at the register when Nikola got there.

"Welcome to The Sanctuary." she greeted in a lilting British accent.

"Coffee, black, largest cup you have. To go." he said, digging in his pocket for money and not looking up.

He didn't care if it was plain and bitter, he just wanted the caffeine at this point.

The woman made a sound at his order and he looked up at her, meeting blue eyes that looked slightly amused, but it was hard to tell.

"What?" he asked.

"I was impressed with you until that order." she answered, picking up a large cup and pulling a marker out of her pocket.

"Because I want it plain?"

"Because you ordered coffee."

Nikola gave her a look.

"You run a coffee shop."

"I run a tea shop that serves coffee." she corrected, the distinction apparently incredibly important from her tone.

"Why do you care? I'm giving you money."

"We're not one of those big chain shops, Mister...?"

She let the question hang, marker poised on the cup, which Nikola noticed was some sort of paper and not plastic.

"Tesla."

She scribbled his name, told him the price, and walked over to the coffee maker that did, indeed, look like an afterthought to the shop and not the main focus of the business.

Nikola dropped his money on the counter and leaned against it to watch her as she pressed some buttons.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"We take a bigger interest in our customers than being given money in exchange for below-standard beverages."

"That means you judge their orders?"

"It means we want to give them something they will enjoy, something to brighten their day, not an over-priced shot of caffeine."

Had she read his mind? Nikola just had to stare as the machine kicked into gear and coffee started to fill the empty pot.

She poured it, snapped a lid on, and put a cardboard sleeve around the cup. Nikola wondered why she had written his name when she had been holding it the whole time and he was the only one standing at her end of the counter.

"Careful. It's hot." she said, handing it to him.

Nikola took it, his eyes falling to where a nametag should have been pinned to her apron, but there wasn't one. He stared at this, thinking it was odd, then looked back up to see her smirk and realize that it looked like he had been ogling her chest.

"Helen." she said, making change.

"Well, Helen. Why does a barista care what I drink?"

"Baristas are expresso 'artists' and you won't find them here, Mr. Tesla. And I believe the woman who owns the shop and has a certain intention may care about that intention being carried out."

Nikola just stared at her, the fact that he needed to get to work far in the back of his mind at this point.

She flashed him a smile that he automatically returned, because there was something about it that his brain immediately responded to.

"So, what would you recommend for my enjoyment?"

"One of our black tea blends. Though I'm not certain which one just yet. Perhaps one of the Earl Greys."

"Hmm."

Nikola did enjoy black tea. And he was finding himself intrigued by this woman.

Someone behind Nikola cleared their throat, making him realize that a few people had come in while they had been talking.

"Well." He straightened. "I suppose I'll have to come back later and try your black tea blend."

Helen smiled again, lowering her eyes for a moment as she closed the register and wiped her hands on a cloth.

"I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Tesla." she said, meeting his gaze as she raised her eyes again.

He had the pleasant feeling that she actually meant it.

Nikola gave her one last smile before he took his coffee and headed out of the shop.

On the sidewalk, he studied The Sanctuary for a moment before turning and walking away.

Yes, he would definitely come back and not just for the tea.

[anchoeritic]

— PREACHER & THE PEW.

pairing: dbf!joel miller + fem!reader

synopsis: excusing yourself from sunday service, you find yourself being followed out by your dad’s best friend: joel miller, waiting to give you something real to believe in.

warnings: eighteen plus only content, minors do not interact or you will be blocked. slight age gap (reader is in her 20s), allusions to secretive relationship. talks of religion, sins, etc. use of cigarette. sexual content: vaginal intercourse, clit play, fingering, handjob, nipple play, breeding kink.

WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED, you quietly prayed with the rest of your family, listening to the lines being recited in front of you.

sunday church service was a regular event, you’ve been attending for as long as you remember.

you never really looked forward to it; as your beliefs were much more forced on you than you’d liked. yours were much different than theirs but they still pushed you to go for your own good.

being the child of a great man was something you had to keep up with, as well as your reputation as the golden one.

your father was a hero and he stuck to his beliefs, promising a good future for him and his children.

you never blamed him for it though, times were different back then. it’s all he’s ever known in his life.

sunday services were… something to say the least. if you were being honest, your goal was to make your father happy, and to see one of his friends; joel.

he was one of your dad’s older friends. he used to come over for dinner from time to time during your breaks between semesters, but he’s gotten busy since then so you haven’t been seeing him much anymore.

but when you do, it’s usually at church. he began coming after your father invited him to, you never thought much of it until you and joel started to send each other sneaky glances across the room.

it would be a quick look between verses, just to see if your eyes would connect, and they always would. every time you’d look over, you’d already catch him staring right into your soul.

with all those people in the room, you’d expect him to catch a glimpse of everyone, but it was just you he wanted to look at.

whether you were in the middle of your prayers; eyes closed, hands clamped together, or sitting with your family hand-in-hand, he could never stop looking at you. you were truly beautiful.

it was like he was picking you apart and reading you piece by piece, studying you, instead of devoting his time to worship the grounds of his very god.

“father?” you called out, squeezing his hand in signal. looking over, you watched his head nod, silently excusing you. “i-i need a breath of air, excuse me,” letting go of him to take a step outside.

walking yourself out the building quickly, joel watched you with confusion distorted on his face. it wasn’t ordinary for you to just step out during a read, and especially in front of steve.

he let out a low huff, turning his head back around to look back at the front, just to get up from his seat instead.

“fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, taking one last glance at the exit before leaving through it, following behind you shortly.

where he found you wasn’t a surprise; leaning against the wall behind the church with a cigarette between your lips, waiting to be lit.

you sent him a tight-lipped smile, showing off your dimples. “nice to see you attending sunday services, joel.” you teased, taking the cig out of your mouth, and putting it back in your pocket.

he walked closer to you, standing right beside you now. “isn’t nice to see that you’re not,” he shot back at you, smirking. “what’s goin’ on, sweetheart? what’s got you leaving during it?”

you shook your head, confused, “just needed some air, nothing’s wrong.” some truth was behind your words, but you’d be lying if you said it took up the entirety of it.

you turned to him, looking up. “why’d you follow me out here, joel?” you asked him, squinting your eyes. the answer was known but you wanted to hear it, hear it come out of his mouth.

“was worried ‘bout you, peach.” he leaned closer to you, looking down at you with furrow brows. “— doesn’t hurt to check up on my favourite girl.”

his finger slipped into your back pocket, sneaking out that cig you had tried to hide from him earlier.

“didn’t see you as the smoker type, but i’ll admit, i’m not surprised.” joel twirled the cigarette between his fingers before stashing it back where it rightfully came from.

“not surprised?” your fingers found their away around his cold metal ones, barely touching them. “answer the question, joel.”

he laughed, shaking his head at you. “why don’t you answer mine, peach?” with his face already close by yours, he leaned even closer, making you back up into the hard wall behind you.

“what’s with those fuckin’ looks you keep givin’ me, hm, sweetheart? you thought i wouldn’t notice the way you look back at me?” joel’s words seethed through his gritted teeth like venom.

you felt small under him as his body towered over yours entirely, engulfing you under his dark shadow. this side of joel was new to you.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about… you’re always looking at me.” you replied back naively.

you knew what you were doing and you absolutely loved how much of an impact you had on the man. “i don’t understand, joel.”

his arm quickly rose up from his side, setting itself right behind your head, trapping you from leaving.

“i know how to handle little things like you, cupcake. this ain’t my first fuckin’ rodeo.” his breath fanned over your face, heating up your cheeks.

“now quit actin’ stupid and put that brain to use.” he spat. your eyes widened at his sudden change in tone, the heat between your legs growing warmer each second.

you stayed quiet, not wanting to give in, but apparently that provoked him even more. “you still wanna act dumb?”

next thing you know, his hand was wrapped around your throat tightly. that’s going to leave a mark. “fine, i’ll just fuck it outta you.”

and with that, he smashed his lips onto yours. surprised at first, you gradually grew into the sweet kiss, devouring him.

you were a flustered mess, this wasn’t something that was on your bucket list this year but you certainly weren’t complaining.

his kisses were nothing but the best. hands roaming your body, lips showering you in hot kisses, how could he worship a god when you were right there. beautiful like aphrodite, words as venomous as a serpent, everything about you resembled his superior.

he believed in you. you were his religion. there was nothing better than his peach being the silver lining to his destroyed painting.

“fuck, cupcake.” he mumbled against your lips, the feeling of your arousal rubbing onto his dress pants. panties soaked, you bucked your hips against his thigh, trying to create friction between the two of you.

your head was thrown back in pleasure, joel’s lips filling in the empty spaces on your neck with his small love bites. “joel, please.”

his hands held onto your waist tightly, keeping you in place as you bucked your hips. “god, you’re going to be the death of me.” he nibbled your jaw softly, earning a pornographic moan from you.

“i can’t take it anymore, turn around.” joel let out a breath, tightening his grip on your waist.

he pulled down your pants hastily, leaving your panties on while you tried to undress him as well. both your hands were flimsy, you were in a rush to get what you wanted, what you craved.

if it wasn’t for joel running after you, you wouldn’t be in this position right now; getting ready to be fucked by him behind your local church.

the sun shined down on his body beautifully, showing off the old scarring on his skin. he was glowing under the light, he looked something straight out of those romance novels you read.

“you look better than my imagination, peach… fuck, what am i going to do with you.” he bit his lip, running his hands down your thighs, one sliding down low enough to tease your pussy.

his finger slipped through your folds like nothing, your own wetness acting as a lube for him as he slipped a digit in slowly.

he watched as your face scrunched up in pure pleasure, smiling at you. “oh, my peach, if only you could see how good you look for me right now.”

“that’s a face of an angel right there and it’s all for me, ain’t it, baby?” he slipped another finger in, thrusting them faster into you.

whimpers escaped from you, hips buckling for some sort of release. “it’s all for you, joel— mhmm.. s’all yours.” you moaned, feeding into his ego.

before you could reach your final release, joel pulls out his fingers from you, leaving you begging for more. “not so fast,” he mumbled, licking your juices off his fingers.

“the only way you’re cumming is in on my cock,” he whispered seductively, kissing the edge of your jaw. “now, wouldn’t you want that, peach?” his hands toyed with your erect nipples, twisting and turning them.

you could only respond with a whine loud enough for his cock to twitch. he no longer just wanted you, he needed you.

his large hand wrapped around his cock, listening to your pornographic moans of pleasure. “tell me you want this too, y/n. tell me to fuck you,” he practically begged you, his pre-cum leaking from the tip.

reaching down, you placed your hand on the head of his cock, rubbing your thumb over the small slit to collect the pre-cum. “shut up and fuck me, miller.”

in less than a second, his tip was already lining up to your entrance, ready to push into you. he wasn’t playing around, he knew what he needed, what you needed, and he’s going to fuck you stupid.

with a swift thrust of his hips, his cock slid into your pussy perfectly, stretching you our wider than you expected.

“joel!” you cried out, digging your nails into his back. you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your louder moans from the public. you wouldn’t want your father finding out about this.

his thrusts were restless, the rhythm never slowing down. he was like a sex machine, ready to be operated. sweat beaded off his forehead as he fucked into your hole mercilessly.

he didn’t care for the marks you were going to leave on him, he wanted them. it would remind him of his greatest memory with you; fucking you behind a church.

“you feel fuckin’ amazing, peach— shit.” he cursed at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him tightly, pushing him closer to his release.

you were on the brink of yours; eyes rolled back, thighs shaking from the sudden stimulation, it was coming and you knew it.

“‘m gonna cum..” at this point, you were drawing blood on his back from how hard you were scratching your nails, the pleasure was too good.

he groaned, somehow quickening his thrusts. “cum on me, sugar, cum on my cock.” his arms tightened around your waist, squeezing you.

that was your final push towards the edge as you came all over his cock with a cry. you were trembling in his arms; overwhelmed.

he used the opportunity to finish inside of you, filling your pussy up with his hot cum.

both your chests heaved up and down, trying to catch a breath and process what had just happened. no words were said, just the sound of your heavy breaths being collected.

it was silent for a couple more seconds before you calmed down; your head rose from his neck, looking back up at him. “joel,” you whispered.

he looked down, replying with a soft nod. “y-you can’t tell my dad that we did this,” you asked of him. your father would kill you if he found out.

it was one thing to have a silly little crush on your dad’s best friend to actually screwing him.

“don’t worry about it, cupcake.” he pressed a warm kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand behind your ear.

“this’ll just be our little secret.”

[cloudcountry]

one more chance (now that i have you.)

this is a birthday gift for @merotwst and a continuation of her request for the 1k event (here!!)

i had no idea your birthday was so close but i'd like to thank your other moots for unintentionally reminding me LMAO

i hope,,,, i write jamil well because i know full well you've read like every fic of him ever probably and im a bit nervous BUT i tried my best!! so yeah i hope your birthday goes wonderfully + sending jamil hugs for you C:< (he adores you completely btw he told me himself) (not w/o rolling his eyes though smh)

~~~~~

Jamil sighs, shutting the kitchen doors quietly. His sigh echoes off the kitchen walls and returns to him, distorted and unlike himself. He supposes he hasn’t truly been himself in a long time, though. Breathing in deep, he slides his hand behind his vest. The spot over his heart has a pocket, one Jamil sewed in himself when he received his uniform from the Headmage. He removes a wrinkled picture of your smiling face, your cheek squashed against Jamil’s as he smiled softly. Even though you were staring right at the camera, it’s obvious Jamil was looking at you. It was taken years ago. You would tell him he needs to let go.

It’s not that easy, though. And it never will be.

Jamil slips the picture back into his pocket and sighs again.

The dinner party Kalim threw tonight had the biggest feast Jamil had to prepare all year. His shoulders are aching and his brain is absolutely fired, but the weight of his history homework in his bag reminds him that the day isn’t done just yet. He pats the spot right above his heart as if asking you for just a little more strength, and slings his bag over his shoulder.

There’s no way he can think in Scarabia, and he certainly can’t hide out in his room. Kalim will come for him, and Jamil doesn’t want to deal with him right now. It’s best to head to the library. Nobody will be around at this time.

Sure enough, the hallways are empty and Jamil makes it to the library without an issue. He makes a beeline for a table in the back corner, tucked behind a tall bookcase that houses a myriad of books about curses.

How to Curse Your Enemies for Dummies. Curses! I’ve Done it Again! A Step-by-Step Manual on How to Not Curse Yourself When Attempting to Damn Your Foes. The Curse of The Poisonous Apple and Other Famous Dastardly Deeds. Top Ten Deadly Curses.

Jamil finds solace in the titles. They’re quiet, ancient, and soothing. They don’t scream or yell or demand anything from him. They simply exist in the place in which they were placed.

A true blessing. Jamil wishes he could do the same.

He places his bag gently on the floor beside his chair, opening it quietly. Jamil sticks his tongue out and furrows his brow, pulling out the required history textbook and his homework. Trein’s assigned essay will be a piece of cake for Jamil, but he knows Kalim will need revisions from him tomorrow before class. He always waits till the last minute.

Pushing the Asim heir out of his mind, Jamil settles in and begins to read. The prompt is simple enough—all he has to do is write a five-hundred-word essay about the similarities between two of the Great Seven. Jamil contemplates writing about The Great Sea Witch and The Sorcerer of the Scalding Sands, but that brings Azul to mind and Jamil has to suppress a shudder.

Why can’t those two annoyances stay out of his head for one minute?

Jamil buries his nose deeper into his textbook and rolls his eyes. Now he wishes he brought his headphones so he could block his thoughts out, but he was so eager to leave that he left them in his dorm—

He flinches when something heavy hits the ground a few rows down, a soft voice frantically shushing reaches his ears.

Are they shushing...the book?

Jamil stifles a quiet laugh. That must be what they're doing, because there’s no way anybody else is in the library this late. He looks up from his book when their footsteps approach where he’s sitting, brow furrowing in confusion. Surely they aren’t coming to this table—

They round the bookshelf, three thick looking books stacked in their arms. They aren’t looking at him at all, but he’s definitely looking at them because they just look so familiar and he can’t put his finger on it but oh, oh, wait a second. He knows exactly who they are and it’s so clear to him now, how could he not recognize them immediately?

He whispers his childhood friend’s name.

He whispers the name just to check if it really is you, back from the dead, or if it's a lookalike that came to haunt not only his dreams but his life too.

He whispers the name to see if it really is the person he took the blame for all those years back when he went to a carnival and had the best time of his life and oh, you’re staring at him now with those same eyes. You recognize the name and that’s enough for Jamil to spring out of his seat, eyes wide.

You yelp, flinching back at his sudden movement. Jamil hisses and jolts forward as the books in your arms start to topple over, grabbing the books to hold them steady, and wrapping an arm around your waist so you don’t fall.

If anyone were to walk in on the two of you, it would look like you’re dancing. Jamil stares and stares and stares, piecing together the little bits of you he remembers and he looks down your arm to see a band that doesn’t belong to Scarabia, which explains how he hasn’t seen you before because he knows if he’d found you before this he never would have let you go again.

“Jamil?” you whisper, tense and unblinking, “Um, I’m okay.”

“Yes, right.” he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm as he sets you back and on your own two feet, “It’s just...It’s been a while.”

“It has.” you murmur, placing your books on the table he was working on.

You’re avoiding him.

“What have you been up to?” he asks, hating the way his voice shakes as he hopes desperately that you won’t run away.

That question makes you break.

“I’m sorry.” you sniffle, dragging your hands over your eyes and it's only then Jamil realizes that you’re crying, “I should have fought harder for you! I can’t get over what happened all those years ago because you were the only one that understood me, and I cared about you so much but no matter how often I tried to sneak out or talk to my parents they wouldn’t let me see you! And when I talked to your parents during the day, they would always say you weren’t home, or that you were out with Kalim, and it was all my fault for dragging you along that day and I’m so sorry for doing that to you—”

“Hey.” Jamil murmurs, placing a gentle hand on top of yours, “Hey. It’s okay. We found each other, didn’t we?”

You look at him with watery eyes and furrow your brow, staring. He can’t imagine what you’ve gone through these past few years, holding this guilt so close to your heart. No wonder you’re a wreck.

“I don’t blame you.” he says, staring straight into your eyes, “I don’t blame you for anything. So don’t blame yourself. That was the most fun I’d ever had.”

“Really?” you smile a little, and Jamil leans forward as if he’ll be able to store that smile in his memory forever.

“Of course.” he smiles back, soft and affectionate, with all the love and tender understanding in the world.

You hesitate, ducking your head again.

You want to ask a question.

“What is it?” he asks, removing his hand from overtop of yours to give you space to think.

He really, really hopes you won’t ask him to leave.

“Can I hug you?” you whisper, almost as if you don’t want him to hear.

Jamil thought you’d never ask.

He opens his arms, a wordless response that you accept gratefully. You fall into him and he falls into you, too. Jamil hears you sob quietly into his vest, right above his heart where that old picture of you rests.

Even now, you always find your way to that spot, don’t you? Jamil supposes it’s only natural since you’ll always have a space there just for you.

[volleychumps]

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this. 

Irrevocable Words. 

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~ 

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu, 

------------------

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?” 

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered. 

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night. 

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-” 

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.” 

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-” 

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.” 

“Y/N-” 

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies. 

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” 

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction. 

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?” 

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday. 

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-” 

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you. 

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze. 

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space. 

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him. 

“I brought cake.” 

You laugh through the onslaught of tears. 

“And I made dinner.” 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” 

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?” 

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?” 

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare. 

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” 

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?” 

“I texted you I had to cancel!” 

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?” 

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel. 

“Wait, I didn’t-” 

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.” 

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat. 

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities. 

“Kenma, what are you doing?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.” 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.” 

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.” 

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.” 

“So she told you.” 

“Dick move, by the way.” 

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up. 

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you. 

“Go home.” 

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you. 

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-” 

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-” 

“Tetsurou-” 

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-” 

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-” 

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” 

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days. 

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket. 

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.” 

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer. 

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?” 

“I’m going back to ignoring you-” 

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.” 

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly. 

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.” 

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes. 

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop. 

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-” 

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,” 

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.” 

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-” 

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully. 

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?” 

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest. 

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-” 

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion. 

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.” 

Tsukishima Kei 

“So I’m the bad guy again.” 

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away. 

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” 

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.” 

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you. 

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?” 

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom. 

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you. 

“I didn’t-” 

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.” 

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him. 

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave. 

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-” 

“I hate this.” 

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I don’t follow-” 

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“This is a rather aggressive apology-” 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing. 

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?” 

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer. 

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?” 

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-” 

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”  

---------------------------------------------------------

General works: @takemetovalhalla  @faesbae  @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046   @let-me-have-my-own-name  @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite   @curiouslilbeast  @aprettyfruit   @wisepandaslimeland   @h0ngh0ngh0ng   @lmkjimin   @orangegiraffe7   @dai-tsukki-desu   @kac-chowsballs   @spikertrash   @yamaguwuchi   @lord-suneater-explosion   @holaaaf  @babyybokutoakaashi   @lexysclubhouse   @disneyloving-muggle   @kuuuuroo   @theonep1ece  @that-chick212  @mjoork

[fushiguroll]

HAIKYUU AS PEOPLE IVE SEEN IN THE AIRPORT

a/n: based off my experiences 

Daichi ⇢ arrives at the airport 5 hours before his flight boards and spends about 2 hours just sitting in the waiting area. his traveling motto is “better early than sorry” 

Sugawara ⇢ watches tiktoks...without earphones. bro, not everyone wants to hear you watch different versions of “my money don’t jiggle jiggle” for the next 45 minutes

Asahi ⇢ takes forever clearing out his pocket for TSA check. gums, hair ties, loose coins, what else you got in there, Mary Poppins? Is visibly anxious when he sees the long line starting to form behind him. the line only makes him more nervous and now all the loose coins have fallen on the floor and he looks like he’s about to burst into tears

Nishinoya ⇢ runs around the terminal with his skateboard and is chased by the overweight security guard on his segway. he laughs the entire time and is finally apprehended after crashing into a group of European tourists with oversized backpacks and luggages

Tanaka ⇢ thinks he looks cool singing along quietly to whatever is playing inside his earphones, but in reality sounds so bad -- off-key for days

Tsukishima ⇢ fell asleep waiting for his plane to board, you thought you’d get your romantic airport moment by kindly waking him up only for him to glare at you 

Yamaguchi ⇢ carries a squishmallow with him (probably a dinosaur or axolotl) you catch him cuddling it as he naps at the gate while waiting to board

Kageyama  ⇢ the guy who is so lost. he’s approaches you for the second time, face red and apologetic as he asks for the directions again. you smile and offer to walk with him to his gate, you got some time to kill anyways.

Hinata ⇢ the one guy who is carrying way too much stuff for his body. this is the airport dude, why do you look like you’re carrying a whole tent with you?

Oikawa ⇢ shamelessly tries to flirt and sweet talk the TSA agent, thinking she’ll let him go ahead first. ends up being bought into the small room for further questioning.

Iwaizumi  ⇢ sweaty and pants heavily as he performs sit-ups and push-ups while waiting for the boarding call. you’d be kind of grossed out and annoyed if he didn’t look so good doing it.

Matsukawa ⇢ very tipsy after one too many cocktails while waiting at T.G.I Fridays

Makki  ⇢ accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder after dozing off while sitting next to you. you let him because ✨airport romance✨, but then he drools on you.

Kuroo  ⇢ man in a suit, truly a sight for the eyes. eyes are glued to his phone the entire time, never looking up once, probably replying to some urgent business emails. you really don’t know but he looks good doing it. 

Kenma ⇢ sits outside the women bathroom because it was the only place where the walls have an outlet that wasn’t used. definitely uncomfortable with the glares of those entering into the bathroom, but his switch is running out of battery. Priorities.

Bokuto ⇢ he’s got it all: the neck pillow, the arm pillow, a pillow pet, two blankets, eye mask. he’s prepared to sleep the entire time on the flight.

Akaashi ⇢ that cute boy you see at the airport bookstore and tries to catch his eyes, but he’s genuinely too engrossed in choosing a book to read on the plane later to notice your efforts.

Ushijima ⇢ you can see him running a mile away. he’s got the stance of a track star. but I'm sorry, your flight left 30 minutes ago.

Tendou ⇢ misses his flight and tries to make conversation with you. very nice but a little too enthusiastic.

Atsumu ⇢ another runner, but not as graceful at Ushijima. shouts “MOVE. OUTTA MA WAY” as he comes cruising down to the gate. makes it on time, but barely.

Osamu ⇢ sits down next to you with a whole selection of snacks and pastries. will offer to share if he catches you eyeing his food. (my parents said not to take food from strangers, but maybe I can take your number?) 

Suna ⇢ face contorted into anger and disgust as he stares at his iPad. You pass by and hear him grumble about the stupid, weak wifi taking forever to download his Netflix watchlist

Kita ⇢ honestly, just a normal traveler. very polite (and handsome), offers to let you board first. will help you put your bag in the overhead compartment. my favorite kind of traveler