#(and this probably sounds very silly but at my small town high school the only thing that won impressive awards and went cool places

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

if one of your proudest accomplishments growing up was being deemed ‘the youngest to ever do x' then congratulations! you’re now a burned out adult with mental health issues and low self-esteem

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[lambden]

What better way to break in a new blog than by immediately posting fic? In honour of Nightmare of the Wolf, here’s some Vesemir and Filavandrel!

(read on AO3)

M, 2.9K words, no warnings, Vesemir recognizes Jaskier’s lute when he arrives at Kaer Morhen

Vesemir has been expecting this day for decades. It’s rare for witchers to meet a trusted companion out on the Path, and even rarer to find one who wishes to travel alongside them. But the reputation of witchers has changed in recent years, for better or worse. Their focus is no longer on maintaining the traditional practices of their schools, but on protection— of other witchers, and of helpless commoners. Perhaps the humans can sense that change.

More curiously, the folklore surrounding witchers has changed. Vesemir very badly wants to meet the man who has done so much to change the narrative, but years pass and all Geralt brings home every winter are stories. The younger witchers entertain (and tease) him but no one ever asks where the bard goes during the cold months that Geralt spends at Kaer Morhen. Perhaps even Geralt doesn’t know.

Finally, after hundreds of stories of Geralt-and-Dandelion, Vesemir receives a letter one autumn before he himself has even considered the journey home. His chest warms as he reads Geralt’s careful penmanship, noting how the ink blots at the start of each new sentence. The paper and wax are fine, suggesting that Jaskier used his academic connections to perhaps land Geralt a few contracts near Oxenfurt. Geralt’s lettering may be nearly flawless but his message is stilted, reminding Vesemir of when his pups were nervous children. Does Jaskier really make him act this awkward? Their relationship must be serious, then.

I am hoping you will welcome my guest with open arms, or I fear he may freeze over the coming months. Vesemir looks for a signature but there is none, save a very fancy G at the bottom. No returning address has been provided either, and while he could easily pen a missive to Oxenfurt, it’s probably best not to respond. Each day Nilfgaard only grows stronger, and crueler. Perhaps Jaskier has been caught up in their hunger for power. Vesemir folds the letter up and hides it in his saddlebag.

When the frost begins creeping in, the oldest Wolf begins his trek up the mountain. He’s almost always the first one to arrive; Coën had beaten him to it once and apologized for weeks, and Vesemir would do anything to avoid that again. And if he makes an effort to arrive early this year so that he can make the Keep look as important as it is, well… nobody needs to know.

It takes a week and a half before Geralt arrives, Jaskier in tow. Vesemir spends the time flushing out a bat infestation and dealing with the most perishable of his spoils from the past year. The White Wolf seems to bring the cold with him most years but Vesemir, cognizant of Jaskier’s inferior body, made sure to set out enough furs in advance. As soon as he hears Roach’s hooves approaching he starts a roaring fire, and when the inner doors of Kaer Morhen burst open, Vesemir is ready to make a great first impression.

Upon seeing him, Geralt smiles right away, crossing the room to greet him. Vesemir looks him over; no obvious new scars, no missing body parts. Must have been an uneventful year, but… Geralt is here, safe and alive, so Vesemir allows himself some private, selfish, unwitcherly joy. It’s the sort of thing Deglan would have lectured him for. He finds he doesn’t care.

“I got your letter,” he tells Geralt, who nods solemnly. “I thought it best not to reply. Is Nilfgaard on your trail?”

“Our trail,” Geralt sighs, stepping aside so that Vesemir can meet his companion. “Vesemir, this is Jaskier.”

The bard, dwarfed by a large fur coat, moves forward so that Vesemir can properly scrutinize him. He certainly doesn’t look his age, but Vesemir knows he’s travelled as far as any witcher has gone, and seen sights no human should really have witnessed. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about you, Jaskier. I was wondering when Geralt was finally going to bring you along for the winter!” That makes Jaskier perk up, and Vesemir chuckles. “I promise that no harm will come to you here.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier says. “Geralt doesn’t like sharing much about the other witchers, but I’m sure you must have a wealth of stories for me to hear!” Sure enough, Geralt frowns. “And I don’t know how much help I’ll be with hunting or gathering, but I would be happy to regale you on the coldest nights—” 

And before Vesemir can read into that unfortunate phrasing, Jaskier shrugs off his fur coat to produce a lute. He must have been wearing it strapped around his front on the journey through the mountains, not wanting to condemn such a fine instrument to being jostled around in Roach’s saddlebags. Vesemir squints at the red-brown wood and the golden details under the strings. They almost look like a particular elven design.

Oh. Vesemir’s realization nearly bowls him over. Geralt and Jaskier stare at him, respectively concerned and curious, but Vesemir can’t take his eyes off the lute. “My apologies, I… I forgot something in my chamber. Make yourselves at home, and… I’ll leave you to it.” He leaves without any further explanation, hastening to his quarters and abandoning the pair of them to their own devices. He can still feel their gazes drilling into his back but he suddenly feels weaker than usual.

---

 “I heard there was a witcher skulking around this forest,” the spy says. Vesemir is almost relieved to hear them speak; he’s been glancing over his shoulder for nearly an hour now to try and reveal an invisible pursuer. He should’ve known he was right. Just because the spy doesn’t lumber like a human or reek of magic like a monster doesn’t mean he won’t be in trouble. 

He stops in the middle of the path, still facing forward. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the second he turns, a very unfriendly knife is going to introduce itself to his ribcage. Or perhaps an arrow, although he hasn’t heard the sound of anything and he’s been listening very closely.

His pursuer approaches. Fuck, they’re light on their feet. If Vesemir was just an average bandit, he’d be done for. He braces himself for an attack, balling his hands up into fists at his sides. The stranger continues, tone still pleasant enough, “Why not stay in town? A warm bed must beat trudging through mud in the early hours of the morning trying to find ground. I’ll give you some advice, witcher; there’s no dry ground. You’re heading towards a swamp.”

“They wouldn’t let me stay in town,” Vesemir admits, already grumpy. He whirls around and sees the stranger; a lean man, just slightly shorter than him. The long hood of their cloak casts a dark shadow over their face, blocking them from view. “If you’re here to rob me, I hate to disappoint, but you’ve followed me all this way for nothing.”

He holds up his empty coinpurse; not to prove himself, just to complain. The stranger titters, a lovely, high-pitched sound like glass clinking against glass, like chimes. Like birdsong. Vesemir’s eyes narrow. “That’s a shame,” they say. “You do love coin.”

There’s something disturbingly familiar about the words. Vesemir decides to gamble with his own life, stalking forward until he’s face to face with the stranger. Up close, his scent is even stronger. Frowning, Vesemir is about to reveal the man’s identity when he does it himself, pushing his hood back. His hair is tied up in complex braids unlike any Vesemir has ever seen, only a few loose strands hanging down over his forehead. But it would take more than a lifetime for Vesemir to forget that face.

“Fil,” he declares, delighted, and doesn’t think twice before crashing into the elf. Filavandrel laughs again and though it makes Vesemir feel a little silly, the sound still fills his heart with joy. He embraces his friend tightly, clinging to him for so long that both their boots sink down into the flooded dark soil of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s like I told you.” The elf pats the back of Vesemir’s neck, unwittingly sending a shiver down his spine. Vesemir’s grip tightens. “My scouts said I might find a witcher lost in the woods.”

“I’m not lost,” Vesemir grunts, finally pulling away. “I just… don’t know where I’m going.”

“Come to my camp,” suggests Filavandrel. As if he even had to ask.

Unsurprisingly, elves make their camps much differently than witchers do. When they arrive Vesemir doesn’t immediately see any sort of bedroll, and then he feels embarrassed for looking. He never feels this way around anyone else; he can make bawdy jokes with Sven or blatantly hit on Luka, but in the company of Filavandrel aén Fidháil, shame bursts through him so easily.

Maybe he just has a thing for pretty blondes who he leaves behind.

Except Fil is here, smiling indulgently as Vesemir gapes like a fool. “It’s nice,” he finally manages to say. “Want me to set a fire?”

“A campfire, sure. Not a big one,” Filavandrel teases. Swallowing, Vesemir turns to a firepit that the elf must have fashioned himself. He takes a bundle of wood that’s already been cut and easily ignites it, all the while trying to figure out why his heart is pounding so damn loud. Thank fuck that Filavandrel isn’t a witcher.

“Have you eaten?”

“No. You?”

“I was going to have some bread, and go hunting in the morning.” There’s a small noise and when Vesemir turns to look, his friend is holding out a large chunk of bread. It doesn’t even look that stale. Vesemir sees that Filavandrel has taken a much smaller piece for himself and growls about it, but the elf snatches the smaller piece away before Vesemir can lunge for it. “I don’t want to hear any self-sacrificial bullshit about how witchers don’t need to eat. Take the damn bread, Ves.”

“... Fine,” Vesemir relents, cowed. He accepts the bread, fingertips accidentally brushing over Filavandrel’s when he takes it. It’s fucking delicious, melting in his mouth almost instantly. Seeds and herbs have been baked into it too, and Vesemir savours every bite, moaning. “You should quit being a professional elf and start a new life as a baker, fuck.”

“I can do both. It’s an old recipe, needs a stone oven. And what does being a professional elf even mean?” Filavandrel reaches up to shove him, except they aren’t very far away from each other so the push nearly knocks Vesemir off his balance. Before he can tip over onto the grass Filavandrel grabs him by the collar of his gambeson and tugs him back, and, well. Vesemir may be a witcher, but parts of him are still human. 

Neither of them has to say a word; he opens for Filavandrel like he’s been thinking of nothing but this since the second they laid eyes on each other. Honestly, he sort of has. Fil runs a hand over the shaved part of his head, pressing his palm against the back of his neck to pull him in closer. Vesemir moans, chasing the taste of something sweet and acidic and magic. It certainly isn’t the fucking bread.

Afterwards they lie together by the smoldering remains of the fire, both too spent to clean themselves or dress. Vesemir glances over at the cinders and thinks about making an exit soon. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to stay with Filavandrel. He’s comfortable here, especially right now, and his friend always makes his heart feel lighter. But the Path calls to him; lying here without his weapons or armour, Vesemir can nearly hear Deglan’s scolding. And that thought is enough to ruin anyone’s afterglow.

Before he can move, Filavandrel sits up, arching his back. Vesemir turns to watch him, nearly salivating at how he looks in the low firelight. His hair is radiant, and his skin isn’t nearly flushed enough. He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Selfishly, Vesemir wishes that he’d left more marks.

Fil climbs to his feet and crosses the campsite to retrieve something out of reach. Vesemir cranes his neck to try and peek, and Filavandrel laughs kindly at him. “I was just thinking that something’s missing.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Vesemir says, lowering his head back down onto the ground. “I should have kissed you more.”

The elf pauses at that before finally demanding, “Kiss me later.” A note resounds through the air, clear and beautiful; then a chord, and another. Very soon their little clearing feels more like a fairy circle than a campground as Filavandrel plays music. 

He finally walks into view, still naked, still beautiful. Now holding a lute. Vesemir tries to sit up so that he can properly see the performance but Filavandrel is faster, moving over him and then sitting atop his stomach, resting his back against Vesemir’s thighs. He plays the entire time, fingers moving adeptly over the instrument.

It’s a beautiful lute, probably made of some holy dark red wood. The golden design etched into it is mesmerizing, and the strings could have been plucked from the mane of a unicorn. Vesemir hardly spares it any attention, too wrapped up in the sight of a naked Filavandrel straddling him and singing.

He’ll only realize decades later that the elf was probably trying to court him.

Someone knocks on the door to his chambers and Vesemir jumps to his feet, caught off-guard by the sound that plucked him from his memories. He finds Jaskier waiting outside his room, toying idly with the sleeves of his doublet. Vesemir shakes his head, holding the door open for Jaskier even as he apologizes. “I’m sorry for running out earlier. I meant to give you a tour of the Keep, hopefully Geralt will have stepped up in my absence, but I am sorry—”

“No— please,” Jaskier interrupts. Once more he pulls his lute from around himself, holding it out to Vesemir. “I just… Your countenance changed dramatically upon seeing this, so…”

Fuck. “Yes,” Vesemir sighs, staring at the lute. Jaskier has managed to keep it in good condition after all this time. “I… Filavandrel and I are old friends.”

The bard’s eyes bulge out of his head but he enters Vesemir’s chambers, heading straight to the desk to perch on the edge of the chair. Vesemir finds another chair for himself, moving its previous occupant— a stack of books— onto the floor. In his defence, he hadn’t expected the tour of Kaer Morhen to begin in his personal chambers.

“He didn’t mention knowing any other witchers,” Jaskier hums. “How did you meet him?”

“You’re sure you want to know? It’s sort of a long story.” The bard just nods, eager and polite. Instantly Vesemir can see why Geralt likes him. “Alright,” he obliges, reaching for the bottle of wine on the desk. They’re going to need it. “We met long before you would have been born…”

 ---

 South of Kaedwen, the seasons are more aligned than any other part of the Continent. The winters are crisp, the summers lazy. Filavandrel likes to spend his summers here, where the canopy of trees is thick enough to provide shade but thin enough to provide colour. Everything is verdant, the flowers calling to him as he passes each one. When he was a child he had longed to visit towns and experience human delights like festivals but now he knows better. The elves live off the land well enough anyway.

Some of the younger people in his company these days have that same yearning, and some of them even manage it. One elf who resembles Toruviel always runs off to see some different show, take in some new performance. If Filavandrel thought that she could get away with it, he would pay for her to attend Oxenfurt— she’s very good. And the upside of her risking her life just to listen to music is that she’s got a very good memory, and she always brings the songs back home.

Today she’s singing some new ode to a witcher; not that bigoted anthem of lies that the bastard warbler from Posada somehow spread through the Continent, thank the Gods. This one seems to revolve more around making the right choice, and how a real hero does good deeds not for coin or his own profit, but just to be good. Filavandrel thinks about the few witchers that he’s had the misfortune of contacting over the years, and under his breath he scoffs.

Cheesy chorus aside, the lyrics seem to have some merit. The first verse is all about some terrible monster that was taking young girls, transforming them into half-beasts. The hero witcher’s judgement fails him and he blames himself for years, even losing a lover in the process. Filavandrel scowls; despite his own experiences with witches, he doesn’t want to listen to a song written by yet another prejudiced bard.

Then the third verse lands. The witcher grows old and wise and has children of his own, and he regrets his inaction and he tries to reach out to contact his lover. But at that point his lover, who devoted his life to protecting those in danger, was too busy being King of the Silver Towers. Filavandrel stops dead in his tracks as he realizes which witcher this must have been inspired by.

The elven king huffs, starting to compose a route in his head. He thinks a trip up north is long overdue.

[tweepunkgrl]

staying quiet as often as possible

even though the title is from “conversations with friends” by sally rooney, i was mostly reading “sweetbitter” by stephanie danier and was kind of reminded of the type of stories i like reading/writing.

Posting this before my bday! this is a prequel to “come and get me” 

recommend listening to “moonover” by kississipi

For much of the pain that it can cause, a crush can be harmless. It’s fun to have a reason to be giddy, to feel silly and girly. There’s always that rush of excitement when the eyes catch a small glimpse of their person. It doesn’t need to mean anything, just as long as a person doesn’t act on it.

I never act on my crushes. I usually bury it deep inside me, never to come up to the surface. I try to wait until it subsides, and I find someone new to be fascinated with. It’s worked so far.

But miserable is the only word I can think of as I glance to his end of the booth in the dim bar. I’m on one side with my right leg stretched out to hold my weight against everyone pushing against me each time they so much as breathed. He’s on the other side, opposite of me, next to the window with a perfect view of Gotham’s vibrant nightlife. He’s not engaged with the conversation, and neither am I. He’s stuffing fires into his mouth, having already eaten his burger. His hand is languid as he brings a fry to his mouth, and he chews on it lazily.

Jason Todd’s mind is clearly on something else while mine is solely on him.

For about three shameful years, I’ve been fascinated with Jason. No one knows about it, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But I know about it, and each day it slowly chips away a piece of my pride. Especially since he’s dating Rose Wilson. Just made it official two months ago.

Crushes are more painful with proximity, and Jason is skin deep.

“We should ask for the check,” Wally says. He searches for the waitress and makes a small motion with his index finger once he makes eye contact.

I always hated that little tick men do; the little head nods, the look in their eyes where they expect you to do something for them and they don’t need to ask. The amount of space that they need to take up, and the space you give up to accommodate them. The moment someone is required to step out of their way when walking in opposite directions. It’s little signs of entitlement that are only inherent to men. I don’t know, I think I’m someone who gets easily irritated.

The waitress drags her feet to our table, and I understand the lifeless gaze she has as she plops the check on the table. I’d rather be somewhere else too.

She gathers what she cans and gives a curt nod before turning on her heels and walking away. Dick takes the check and slides his credit card into the pocket of the black bill folder.

Jason turns in his seat, placing one hand on the table while the other rests on the headrest. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

Beside me, Kory lifts a single eyebrow. I am impressed. I can’t do that. “Rose told me you quit.”

Jason shrugs nonchalantly and pushes Wally, Dick, and Garfield with his hip, urging them out of the booth so he could get out. “I don’t remember making that decision.”

“I could use a smoke too,” the words are out of my mouth before I could even stop myself. But I do. I really do.

Jason’s green eyes settle on me and my heart is already beating so hard it could burst out of my chest and fall right on the table in front of everyone.

A thing I hate about crushes is interacting with a crush. I become too aware of myself, of all the little movements. I overthink the words I say and the way I say them. I will agonize for days about how my voice sounded when I say hi. Diction becomes increasingly important outside a high school English class. Overanalyzing everything when it probably means nothing.

“I got Camels.”

“Not the menthols, right?”

A corner of his lip tugs upwards and I instantly melt. “No. Turkish Royals.”

“Nice, those are the best ones.”

Kory turns to me with confused neon green eyes. “You smoke?”

Just like Jason, I shrug. “Occasionally.”

I try not to notice the smirk that appears in his face, as though just that one word revealed how charming of a person I could be. I somehow pulled myself out of the booth with grace, despite the nerves that wracked from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I run my hands down the skirt of my blue plaid dress and take a quick glance at my favorite pair of Jadon boots.

I look up to find his gaze settled on me. Jason’s green eyes roamed over my face, taking it all in before he turned and walked over to the door. I trail awkwardly behind him with my hands clasped together in front of me.

It’s chilly outside, and I quickly take the cigarette Jason offers, already lit and ready. I rest my back against the brick wall, its edges creating indents on my skin. He’s doing the same, but he looks cooler doing it. Dangerous and mysterious.

“Smoking is nicer with company,” he says after a minute passes. He keeps his face tilted upwards, eyes gazing at the lights of the city.

“It’s a very social activity,” I say.

There is something meditative and melancholy about standing and smoking with Jason outside the bar. It could be a result of the empty night sky above us, with the single lamppost illuminating us. There’s something in the way his shoulders seemed tended for most of the time they ate inside, and how distant his eyes seemed. There’s an invisible force field keeping him away from everyone, one that wasn’t there before. I sadly spend too much of my time watching him, and it’s not hard to notice it.

“You don’t come out often.”

“Yes I do,” I say as I take a drag. I feel like a character right out of a Wong Kar-wai movie as I do so. “You don’t.”

Jason exhales and smoke flows out from between his lips. It curls in the air. “Yeah, that’s true.”

It’s silent between us for a moment. And then he says, “I’ve been spending all my time with Rose.”

I nod my head, trying to sound nonchalant. “Makes sense. She’s your girlfriend.”

He has a girlfriend and that means nothing to me. It doesn’t impact me whatsoever.

“That she is,” is his reply.

Our group of friends makes their way to us, laughter and joy strongly resonating from them. It overwhelms whatever atmosphere there was around Jason and me. It’s jarring to be thrown out of a quiet moment and into a loud one.

Dick looks at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late.”

“Ok, grandpa,” Vic laughs. “It’s only 11 pm.”

“Yeah, we usually turn in at 2 am,” Karen says.

“Three am if we’re feeling particularly reckless,” Garfield says.

I step in. “I have work early tomorrow. I should probably start heading home.”

“Aww, Raven, nooo.” Garfield pouts his lips to me.

I snub my cigarette out with the bottom of my boot, and as I walk toward the nearest trash can, I hear Jason's voice. “You live on the east side of town, right?”

It’s startling to see that he seems to know this. But it makes sense since we run in the same circle of friends. “Ummm, yeah.”

“So does Rose. I’ll walk with you.”

“Excellent idea!” Kory says with optimism oozing out of her. “It’s dangerous to walk alone at night.”

Dick seems to like that idea. He looks at me and says, “Send a text when you get home.”

Jason rolls her eyes. “She’ll be fine. I can make sure she gets home fine.”

We’re silent as we part ways from the group. It’s not until we’re a block away that I feel the pressure of his hand on my back. It’s hot, and it burns my cold skin. It’s nice, and I just want to engulf myself in it.

“I have tequila up in my apartment,” I say. “You wanna come up for a nightcap?”

He bites the side of his cheek and says, “Sure.”

[cabensonsgirly]

👼Home Is Wherever I'm With You (Alice Macray)[NSFW]👼

Alice Macray x Fem!reader

👼Part 2 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Wordcount: 2714👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fluff, some angst, homophobia, Phyllis and Alice's husband are trash garbage, some smut, strap-on, wlw magic, pregnancy, Alice is an angel, mentions of religion.👼

👼There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.👼

It had been a number of years since you had moved to a slightly more progressive part of town, ever since Phyllis found out that you had – as she put it – “homosexual inclinations” it was made very clearly that you were no longer welcome in that area. And because she ruled with an iron-fist, no one dared to speak out against her, even if they had said to you in private that you were still the same wonderful person they had always known.

There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.

It had hurt when you moved because you had grown close with Alice and her kids, even if her husband harboured ill feelings towards you because you were a “dyke” and “we can’t let our children around that dyke, Alice” but she managed to calm him down enough so that you could still come around. But you hadn’t seen Alice and the kids much since moving, and you missed them something wicked. Yes you had spoken to them, mainly Alice, on the phone but it was brief and happened very rarely. You missed her. You missed them.

The days where she called you had you wanting them to last forever, you could wander around your home just listening to her talk about how things were going, how much she enjoyed her job, how the kids were doing in school. You found yourself feeling like a high schooler talking to their crush after school on the phone, laying down on your bed with the dumbest grin on your face. However, that grin changed to a shocked expression when you let slip how you feel about her. “Alice, fuck – sorry I know you don’t like swearing but… Alice, I love you so much and I miss you, I miss being around you and being with the kids. It’s been miserable not being able to see you, but-“ you hear a sharp intake of breath “I- I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before the line goes dead.

Seven months, twelve days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes it had been since that call and you hadn’t heard from her. You weren’t usually the type to count these things, even when you had important events to look forward to, you wouldn’t count down the days. You guess it was some form of way to torture yourself, counting the length of time since you fucked up one of the few good things you still had in life. She was radiant like an angel, put the beauty of the moon to shame, and you- you were like a horseman of the apocalypse, ruining everything you touched. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, you haven’t ruined everything you touch but you certainly have relationship wise.

You had a few spare rooms in your house, you’d hoped that one day you would be able to have your own family, a bedroom for each kid: two bedrooms and one room as the nursery. No, that was a lie, you had dreamed about having Alice live with you - be with you – the boys would have their own rooms to decorate how they please (under the watchful eye of Alice) and… a nursery so you and Alice could have a child together, so that the boys would have a little sister (hopefully) to protect from the big kids.

To be honest, you had already started making renovations on the house so that it would be better suited for a family like that anyway, the bedrooms had a fresh coat of paint, nothing that was specifically catered to boys or girls – you wanted the kids to pick the colour themselves if they wanted a change – and made sure the windows had latches to prevent them from opening too far so that no one could fall out of them.

You were most proud of the kitchen though; it was your pride and joy of the entire property. That’s where you currently find yourself, applying the final sealing coat on the marble countertop so that no liquid seeps into the pores of the material. You had music playing through the radio, just loud enough to drown out the sound of the odd car that drove by. You were humming along to this when you heard the doorbell ring, this surprised you because not many people stopped round to your place, and if they did they would usually knock. You put the paintbrush in the sink and put the lid back onto the tin of sealant before you made your way over to the door. You didn’t bother to check your appearance or anything because you thought it was probably some girl scouts or a random, so in all your messy renovation glory you swung the door open to greet whoever was on the other side.

“Hi there, what can I-“ Your voice catches in your throat and colour rushes to your cheeks as you lay eyes on the woman before you. Now you were wishing you had at least wiped the sweat from your face and the grime from your hands.

“Hi… I- I know we- I know I haven’t spoken to you since…well…” She trails off quietly, looking down. You bite your bottom lip slightly and shake your head, willing the tears to remain unshed “It’s- It’s fine Alice, really. It’s in the past… You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older woman shakes her head and looks at you again, her eyes glistening slightly “I want to. Can- can I come in, please?”

You step back and hold the door open so she can make her way inside, closing and locking the door behind her before leading her to the lounge. “I- I wanted to apologise for hanging up the way I did…and for leaving your life without saying anything.” She takes a seat in an arm chair, hands immediately starting to fiddle with the cushion “I just- I didn’t- I don’t”

“You don’t feel the same way. I- I know. It’s okay. I- I got over most of the hurt-“

“No- no that’s not what I meant. I didn’t understand why you felt that way and- and I didn’t understand why I- why I” she shakes her head, her grip on the cushion tightening before she blurts out “why I felt something I hadn’t felt since the joy I felt when I had my boys.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands as she starts crying.

You rush over to her and wrap your arms around her gently, rubbing her back as you hush her gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, Alice” She moves so she can hug you tight, burying her face in your shirt as she continues crying. “hey, hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shhh.. It’s okay, Alice.” You continue rubbing her back, only slowing down more as her breathing starts to return to normal. “There we go, there we go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t pull back but you hear her mumble out “my- my husband- ex… he- he found me crying after the call and he asked why. I- I told him that it- it was because I think I- I was in…love with someone else. A- A woman… And- and he” she lets out a sob before continuing “he told me how- how disgusting I- I am. That- that I was going to- to ruin my- my kids. We- He filed for divorce a few weeks later… It’s- it’s supposed to be split custody but- but I guess the boys like me more so- so they stay with me a majority of the time. They asked why I was so sad, why I didn’t bake apple pie as much anymore, why I- why I never called you. I didn’t answer them for so long, just- just said it was some- some trial that God was putting me through. But… a few days ago they asked again, and- and the looks in their eyes…” she lets out a bit of a laugh “they looked like they wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, they- they really are my boys. So…I told them.”

Your breath catches and you still your movements before continuing, encouraging Alice to continue. “I told them everything. Well- well excluding what their father said about- about me. I just- I said that their father didn’t- didn’t approve of- of who I had…fallen in love with. They- they were confused and asked how it was possible for someone to- to fall in love when already married. I said sometimes- sometimes it happens and that it- it doesn’t mean I never loved their father, but I had discovered that- that maybe I…liked women. A woman. Gosh… You should’ve seen the looks on their face, it was like I’d given them their birthday presents early. I hadn’t even told them who but… they’re so wonderful.”

She pulls back and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giving you a small smile “I told them that the woman I was- I am in love with is you. That- that I hadn’t known what to do so that’s why I was sad for so long because I just… Anyway… They said I was silly and should go tell you everything because they miss you and want to see me happy again.”

You blush deeply and look away, a shy smile settling on your lips before Alice gently turns your head to face her. “I- I love you, yn.” She leans in and tentatively brushes her lips against yours before kissing you, you gasp softly in shock before melting into the kiss.

One year, three months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours. That’s how long Alice and her boys – your boys – have been living with you for. After she kissed you that day, she asked if she could make love to you but emphasised that you would have to guide her because she’d never been with another woman. Alice was a quick learner and once she had a solid understanding of what you enjoyed…she made it very clear that she was the one in charge in the bedroom. This surprised you but you weren’t going to complain, if the love of your life wanted to be called “Miss” in the bedroom and boss you around, you bet your fucking ass you’re going to do just that. Although she did burst into tears after you went down on her because she didn’t know something like that was supposed to feel that good.

She asked you why there was an empty room one day while the boys were at tutoring, and you told her it was because you hoped to have a baby one day… Hopefully with her. She was shocked and had blushed profusely but the smile on her face reassured you she wasn’t put off by the idea. You said you knew it wouldn’t actually be possible for her to get you pregnant but you saw a fierce determination in her eyes that made you feel like she would find a way. Alice didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, and you didn’t press about it either, just put it down to her having forgotten or maybe not actually being into the idea.

One evening while the boys were at their fathers Alice said she had something to show you, said it was really important. When you walked into the bedroom you nearly choked on your bottled water, Alice was standing there, looking down as she adjusted - what appeared to be a strap-on – to fit her comfortably. She still had her simple white bra on but to you she still looked sexy, with or without clothing you were attracted to her; the look of utter concentration on her face made you giggle though, drawing her attention to you, a blush settling on her face as she smiles.

“I- Hi. I- So I did some… I did things to try and- and figure out if there was a way I could get you…pregnant… And- well, I know you don’t always come to church but- No I didn’t ask around church, silly. Every time I prayed, I asked for there to be a time where it would be possible for me to get you pregnant, so- so I could have a baby with the woman I love. And- and so it turns out that tonight is that night. I saw a sign, and I know that sounds cra-“ You cut her off with a deep and slow kiss, hands cupping her cheeks gently before you pull back “Alice, baby, nothing you say sounds crazy to me.”

She blushes more and flusters a bit before continuing “I saw a sign, well- well what I hope was one and knew that it would be possible tonight. That- that it would be possible for me to- to” she tears up, some tears spilling onto her cheeks which you wipe away gently “to get you pregnant so we can have our baby.” You sniffle a little, having teared up at her words “Alice… You’re so- you’re so wonderful. Please take me to bed, make- make love to me.”

Alice takes your hand in hers gently and leads you to your shared bed where she lays you down gently on it before crawling on top of you, her hand stroking your cheek gently. “I love you so much, yn.”

“I love you too, Alice.”

You looked up at the woman you loved, her hand ghosting gently between your legs and roaming over your body before she starts to remove your clothing, kissing your skin as each item is removed. She trails kisses up your thighs before moving up to kiss you, her lips were still sweet from the dessert she had made, her tongue slips between her lips and runs against your bottom lip before you part them to brush your tongue over hers, you both moaning at the feeling. A gasp falls from your lips when you feel her touch your slit, fingers rubbing your clit lightly before dipping the tips of two into your pussy.

“You make the most beautiful noises, my love.”

There had never been a moment before now where you had felt so much love when having sex with someone. It wasn’t only because your girlfriend had managed to find a way to try having a baby with you – having her baby, it was because there wasn't a single moment the entire night where the love in her eyes disappeared.

You wouldn’t know if Alice’s prayers had been heard until you took a pregnancy tests a few days later, but there was a feeling in your bones that made you think that things would work out – that you would have her baby. On the off chance, or more likely chance, that you didn’t get pregnant, that would be okay too. Your sweet Alice would probably try her best to find another way though, she was determined like that.

You and Alice both shared a nice bubble bath after your lovemaking, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Alice baby, I love you so much. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for coming back to me. Just- just thank you.” She hums softly in response, her eyes drifting closed “I love you too, Yn. I’d always find my way back to you anyway.” You press a kiss to her head, enjoying the feeling of being content and happy with a woman you love, and with the chance of being pregnant with her child.

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 2

IwaOi this time around. My favorite ship. The world’s favorite ship...there’s so many

Undecipherable, by ioo (4k. G. canonverse)

 I’m pretty sure the author meant ‘indecipherable’, nevertheless! I am appalled that this work doesnt have more hits. Y'all are sleeping on it and that's not okay. 

The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him.

"Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."

 primavera, by tothemoon (8k. T. canonverse)

All of tothemoon’s works read so beautifully 

They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom. 

Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run), by ricekrispyjoints (27k. M. canon-divergence)

I've read this work so many times. Like, so many times and I’ve never tired from it. Gorgeous. The shift from friendship to romance felt so natural, love it. 

"I'm not healing like I should be."

In his second year of university, physical therapy just isn't cutting it. Oikawa's knee is getting worse, and he can't hide it anymore.

Or: the light angst, project-your-own-life-experiences-on-Oikawa knee surgery fic you didn't know you wanted.

 Priorities, by weirdmilk (2k. T. canonverse)

Kissy, kissy. 

‘I just -’ Oikawa begins, ‘it might be difficult to get married, sometimes, I think.’ He chews on his lip.

Iwaizumi makes a questioning noise.

‘Ah,’ Oikawa says, and then, in a rush, ‘if I didn't want a wife at all - what then? If I said that to you. If I told you I can’t see it. Like - the wedding dress. The bride. I just can’t see it.’

Iwaizumi swallows again, his heart beating much faster than the conversation warrants. He wonders whether Oikawa can hear it. ‘You’re eighteen. You aren’t supposed to see it yet.’ He snorts. ‘I mean - if we’re sharing shit, I’ve never even kissed a girl.’ He doesn’t mind admitting it. It’s not something that bothers him - he’s never prioritised girls very highly, and despite Oikawa’s largely undeserved status as Miyagi’s most eligible teenage bachelor, he doesn’t think Oikawa has ever wanted a serious relationship with any of his fan club, either.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi can't sleep before their first practice match with Karasuno.

 Before Midnight, by fathomfive (2k. G. canonverse)

Reads like a fairytale. 

The sky turns, the seasons turn over, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa track the movements of the stars. Nothing is ever quite constant, but it's close enough.

The grass is stiff with frost. They walk in silence past the raked-over vegetable garden and up the back hill, footsteps crackling, and stand side-by-side at the top of an incline that used to seem much bigger. Iwaizumi glances over but Oikawa’s already gone, eyes searching the sky with no hint of hurry, just a kind of reverent patience.

 make a bet, keep a promise, by raewrites (13k. M. canonverse)

Bet still on. 

Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.

Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.

It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.

 our hearts still beat the same, by knightswatch  

 two birds, by thelittlebirdthattoldyou (5k. T. canonverse)

Of heartbreaking letters and paper crane wishes. 

Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives. A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm.

There’s a letter attached.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put his feelings down on paper before Iwaizumi believes them. 

Through My Eyes, by anchoringsouls (2k. G. canonverse)

Okay! Okay, we were doing great with the soft, happy love up until the last part! That's great, just great!

“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.” 

in time it could be ours, by deusreks (3k. T. canonverse)

Anyone wanna go back in time and make a time capsule with me only to dig it up years later and we’re actually in love?

Set post Seijou's match with Karasuno. There's a moderate amount of rolling in the dirt. No pajamas were hurt in the writing of this fic.

There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree.

“What the hell, Oikawa.”

Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.

 we can do better than that, by spaceburgers (16k. M. canonverse)

Of course, of course, the IwaOi road trip fic. AnD thErE wAs ONly OnE bED!

Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. 

They Say it Rains Diamonds on Jupiter, by exsao (35k. T. canonverse)

I don't know, just gorgeous. Hajime’s so in love. 

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

 Midnight boys/sunset town, by carafin (10k words. T. Housemates AU):

The author says they played off of the fact that Oikawa oftentimes forgoes his sleep in order to work, and wrote it so that he doesn't sleep at all. This was so cute, kinda sad, mostly not. Love how Iwaizumi just goes along with whatever crazy stilch Oikawa is on. 

In which Iwaizumi Hajime grows a few chili plants, participates in an eating contest, breaks into a park, and falls in love with a man who doesn't ever sleep - not exactly in that order.

5 Reasons Why Iwaizumi Hajime's Flatmate Is A Complete Weirdo (An Incomplete List)

1. He's obsessed with that stupid bucket list of his.

2. He's the proud owner of seven truly ugly, criminally hideous movie posters with aliens on them, which he insists on pasting all over the damn living room.

3. He's always stealing Hajime's sweatshirts.

4. Sometimes, he wakes Hajime up for breakfast. At 5AM. On Saturday mornings.

5. He literally never, ever sleeps.

 The Best I Ever Had, by FindingSchmomo (62k words. T. Canon-divergent):

You’ve read it, your mum’s read it, your dog has probably read it (you really need to take facial recognition for him off your phone, he’s got some weird nighttime habits). So basically this fic caused me physical pain and then pumped me full of morphine and now I’m good! Beautiful read, hated Oikawa for a while, Iwaizumi is the only boy I would ever feel safe alone with. 

A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.

 darlin', your head's not on right, by aruariandance (13k words. T. canonverse)

Again, I’m pretty sure anybody who's anybody has read this fic and for good reason! Super sweet realizing you're in love fic. Makes me reconsider wanting to get married. 

'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

“I was thinking our Aoba johsai colors to go for more, you know, softer tones? Besides, I’ve always looked great in that sea foam green color. Oh, and I guess you look decent in it, too.” He grins, saccharine sweet, and Iwaizumi has never been so tempted to knock one of his perfect pearly white teeth right out of his stupid mouth."

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

 the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle, by kittebasu (66k. T. canon divergent)

Is this one of the most famous Iwaoi fic? I don’t know. Looks like it, I know it's my personal favorite. Where Oikawa studies bugs for a living and can’t seem to come to terms with his feelings. Very angsty, love that in a fic. 

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

 Terrarium, by sausaged (11k. T. Post-canon)

Honestly, I’m so surprised this fic doesnt have more hits! It’s so good! Made me ache! I love the memories and character growth shown through the growing of the terrarium, absolutely adore that kind of symbolism. So beautiful, give it some love because it's one of my absolute favorites. 

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

 A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

 Lips like sugar, by ohhotlamb (8k. T. canonverse)

Why did my childhood best friend never offer to help me practice kissing only for us to realize we were only interested in each other? I had a fake high school experience. 

Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

 Falling Slowly, by bravely (commovente) (3k. T. canonverse)

So special, imagine loving one person, and one person only like this for the entirety of your life. This is getting too sappy, I want off of this ride. 

over the years, some things change; but over the years, some things stay mostly the same.

(alternatively, mornings with oikawa and iwaizumi over the years).

 No sleep in the city, by loveclouds (7k. T. canonverse)

Mass/volume = Iwaizumi, apparently. (Please. If anyone gets this absolutely horrific joke, lets elope).

Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

 Time, by surveycorpsjean (5k. E. canonverse)

Growing older together. 

When they're twenty-three, their story only begins.

 Everything With You, by Ellessey (14k. E. canonverse)

Came damn near to crying, you can just feel Iwaizumi’s pain. Fight scene was probably the most emotion evoking one I’ve read in a long while. 

‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date.

And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.

This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’

--

For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition.

What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.

 The Best Best, by rikke (12k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Takeru is a whole mood. Don’t want kids, but I do want domesticity and this fic feeds me well.

“Congratulations, Iwa-chan! You’re a dad!” Iwaizumi hears as soon as the door opens. He’s dealt with Oikawa for all of his twenty-one years of age now, but this declaration is still sufficiently disturbing enough that he turns from his place on the couch and braces himself for whatever Oikawa has done this time.

 Or the one where Iwaizumi and Oikawa babysit Takeru for a week.

 cheek kisses, by ohhotlamb (G. 3k. Future fic)

Sooo cute!! 

“Every time,” Hajime murmurs, “every time I see you again I remember how fuckin’ crazy I am about you.”

 Routine, by snoqualmie  (2k. T. canonverse)

Again, anyone wanna be my childhood best friend so we can put face masks on each other and fall in love? I died, truly. 

Iwaizumi is fourteen years old, horny too often and angry all the time, and he’s just starting to notice that Tooru’s legs are really long, that his lips are kinda soft looking, and his fingers feel good pressed under his jaw.

 Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, by sunsmasher (19k. G. canon divergence)

Be wary, I would give this fic an upper rating to probably Teen and the follow-up fic is Explicit. But, Oikawa on the Japanese national team is just a dream as is, but add in a rekindling friendship and an angsty make out sesh? Mwah, delizioso. 

It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

He has, however, sent Iwaizumi tickets for the 2024 Los Angeles Summer Games.

“So go,” says Matsukawa's voice. “It’s only a few weeks. You’ve got a whole city to hide in if it gets awkward, and if it doesn’t get awkward, well…”

It’s like watching the future reconfigure, like being in high school again, watching team after team fall to Oikawa’s faultless planning and shameless charm.

“I’ll get to watch a whole lot of volleyball,” Hajime says, and resigns himself to fate and/or Oikawa Tooru.

“Hey, when you get there, can you bag a gymnast for me?” Hanamaki asks, and Matsukawa squawks.

 Chasing Paper Suns, by carafin (10k. T. Future fic)

Again with the growing up and coming back together, this time with more angst than the last. Lovely, really lovely read. 

Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart.

Some days Hajime likes to think of himself as Oikawa’s counterpart—the two of them blending into a single devastating unit, the invincible setter and his unyielding ace, the bond between them unbreakable and true. Other days he feels like he is chasing after a rising sun, always running and running with his eyes fixed on the distance, trying to cross a chasm that stretches on without end, caught in an endless and exhausting pursuit.

 the yellow room, by ohhotlamb (14k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Makki and Mattsun see bullshit and call you out on your bullshit. 

“I told you, we broke up like six months ago. We’re not dating anymore.”

Hanamaki eyes him suspiciously. “You live together.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There are pictures of you two kissing stuck to your refrigerator.”

Hajime shrugs. “That wasn’t my idea. Anyways, they’re good pictures. Good lighting.”

 the river runs, by tothemoon (11k. T. post-breakup)

My heart ACHES. Happy ending, promise! Just read it. 

One year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.

—

This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).

 I sure hope that guy gets fired, by Xov (29k. T. canonverse/time loop au)

The only thing better than one confession, is MULTIPLE confessions. Oikawa trusts Iwaizumi unshakably, and that's beautiful. 

It was the fourth time experiencing the exact same day that Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly admitted to himself that something was very wrong. 

 my only friend was the man in the moon (until i met you), by ohhotlamb (7k. T. canonverse)

Just so innocent and sweet. Oikawa said ‘effort’.

In which Oikawa has a life-altering revelation, and Hajime is starting to think it involves him.  

 Bet On It, by originalblue (13k. E. canonverse)

Tooru being nice for a week? That can only end one way… with a d*ck in Hajime’s mouth. 

Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week. 

 especially for tender ones like us, by viverella (17k. T. canonverse/post break-up)

Gods! See? See what I mean? How could I forget about a work as heart wrenchingly beautiful as this? Give it some love, actually, all of the love. 

The worst part of it all, Tooru thinks to himself sometimes, is that even as they fought and kicked and screamed and tore each other to shreds, it was never that Tooru stopped loving Iwaizumi any less. The worst part of it all, he thinks, is that loving Iwaizumi turned out to not be enough.

(OR: on finding the right person at the wrong time and learning how to pick up the pieces)

 sunset town, by skiecas (33k. T. canon-divergent)

Another work that I just CANNOT understand why it doesn't have more hits. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I almost cried. 

In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

Two years down the road, reconciling his lifelong dream with his lifelong love proves to be the greatest challenge.

 of odd numbers and intimate regrets, by bravely (commovente) (5k. T. post-canon/one night stand au)

Basically, Tooru and Hajime sleep together after not speaking for seven years and of course there’s feelings and angst and a belated chance at happiness and a life together. 

Tooru’s spent the last seven years of his life in a carefully constructed schedule that is, he realises now, as much a habit as it was a way to forget about the person in front of him.

[or, the one night stand AU between two people more than friends but not quite lovers, measuring the passage of time in distance and long-gone memories, the expansion and contraction of the spaces between their fingers each time.]

 cross my heart, open wide, by acchikocchi (7k. T. canonverse)

Super cute, super short. Realizing you're on a date with the wrong person one-shot. 

For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.

 Hajime goes on a date. It's not with Oikawa. 

 Fernweh, by oikawashoyo (19k. G. canonverse/post time skip)

A mature(ish) Tooru?? I love works that show Tooru growing and living happily in Argentina and this one is just beautiful. (Plus! Plus, Skai did a piece on it as well and I love ALL their work so you can visualize everything). Love it. 

Argentina is stretching out before him, an opportunity, a challenge. He is reminded of his losses, his insecurities, his disappointments; sees them form a tall, tall wall blocking his path to success. He takes a deep breath and knows he is going to shatter it.

In which Oikawa's whole life is spent longing for the horizon — in the form of a dream, a home, and a boy.

 i breathe easily in your arms, by orphan_account (2k. M. canonverse)

Soft, soft sex

When, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence.

Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.

 old and new, by Mysecretfanmoments (5k. T. canon divergence)

Finally a fic where they don't freak out on confession and it's sweet. 

“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: desperate, lonely, anxious.

Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”

Hajime swallowed.

“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”

“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”

((Going to separate universities, Hajime and Tooru learn the true meaning of "distance makes the heart grow fonder"))

 all i wanted was you, by spaceburgers (6k. E. college/fwb au)

This was more emotional than I thought a 6k friends with benefits fic could be, okay? Okay. 

Wherein Hajime and Tooru are fuck buddies, Hajime curses his treacherous heart, and Tooru is bad with feelings. 

 we shine like diamonds, by whitemiists (26k. T. canon divergence)

I couldn't not include this work. It deals with internalized homophobia so well and I really resonate with it. 

In all seriousness, I’m very lucky to live in a country where my sexuality is widely accepted and my heart goes out the LGBTQIA+ peoples who are forced to hide themselves. You are loved and your sexuality and gender-identity are not wrong and never will be.  

Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the word fuck and then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.

"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

 Look For Him, by Leryline (18k. E. canonverse)

A collection of kisses. I love Hajime’s grandmother. 

She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”

-

Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.

 film reel life, arsenicjay (8k. T. canon divergence)

Such a unique and creative idea! Reading from the eyes of a camera, so beautiful!

The only person Iwaizumi is lying to is himself, when he insists: I am not in love with Oikawa Tooru. 

 how to let your planets align, by tether (tothemoon) (15k. T. end of the world au)

This is the only remotely non-happy ending fic I will be including on here, and it's purely because it's a gorgeous read. And yes, I ached. Your lips, my lips, apocalypse. 

It is the last day on earth, December 2nd, 1985, when you realize you're in love with him.

[thesappiestnap]

for my beloved sage @notplanningshit

this ended up longer than i thought and also barely about the bike ride itself whoops,,, it's been a minute since i've written and my meds are worn off and so it's rambly and barely edited lol so good luck

------

Bike Ride (Just a couple kids)

Quackity

It was a beautiful day, one of those golden fall days, where the weather is just perfect. You and Alex had rented an airbnb outside the city, a quiet little town with pretty parks and local shops, just to get a breath away from everything for a few days. It had been wonderful, and you could tell that it was helping Alex to leave behind twitter drama and law school and his Quackity persona for a little bit. Staying up too late eating junk food, watching the dumbest reality tv you could find, going out for hikes and visiting shops, it was all perfect.

But this was possibly the best part. Cruising along on your bike, hearing the leaves crunch under your wheels as the tires reeled. The birds chirping from the trees. The cool breeze on your face. And Alex, being a goof as he rode circles around you, whining that you were going too slow.

You shook your head, continuing your leisurely pace out of spite as he continued to whine jokingly.

"Yoooo, Y/n, there's a playground!" Alex said excitedly, standing up on his pedals as he headed towards it. "Let's go on the swings for a minute!"

Well, obviously you couldn't say no when he was that excited about it. So you followed him over, parking your bike beside his against the bench as he ran to the swings, immediately jumping up to stand on it. He swung himself forward, grinning at you as he swung back.

"Careful," you tease as you take a seat on the other, lightly swinging yourself back and forth with your feet still on the ground.

"No, I'm jumping off, I'm going to space on this thing!"

He swung a couple more times before launching himself off, barely catching himself on his feet on the landing, and maybe his hands touched the ground to steady him, but you definitely saw nothing of it. He bowed dramatically, as if a roaring crowd surrounded him, while you rolled your eyes affectionately.

"Your turn!"

You laugh, shaking your head as you hold onto the chains, trying to back away as he creeps forward with a mischievous grin. "Gotta get more air," he teases as he comes around behind you.

He begins pushing you higher and higher while you try to hold on for dear life, chanting for you to jump.

When you finally do, he's whooping into the night, not caring enough to be embarrassed about the echo as he runs at you, nearly toppling you over in his excitement. You chide him, giggling as you steady yourself, swatting his arm playfully as he lets go of you.

He teases you, playfully hitting you back, and it turns into a game of tag, until he dives behind a little play wall underneath the play area, one with a little window meant for playing house. And he certainly rolled with it, claiming it as his house, and you can't hit people in his house, it's very rude. Giggling breathlessly, you take the moment to catch your breath, squatting down to his level as he peeks from the window. It's dark, with only the streetlights illuminating snippets of Alex's face. Just enough to see his eyes sparkling with glee.

"Can I come inside?" you inquire, a smile playing at your lips.

He pretends to think about it, squinting at you, "Only if you promise not to hit."

"Promise."

"Pinky promise?"

You laugh as he holds out his pinky, looking at you expectantly. With a small sigh, you link your pinky with his, and he's contented, scooching over to make room for you.

As you both settle down, you end up talking about his latest stream, telling him about the jokes you liked, teasing him a bit about it as well, and you relaxed, leaning against the little wall with him as you talked.

It felt like minutes, but you soon realized that you'd talked about a million different things, and the moon was high in the sky. checking your phone, you realized it was well after midnight. Even so, you didn't really feel the need to leave yet, nor did you want to.

"I didn't realize we'd been here so long," you murmured as you set your phone back on your lap, looking back up at Alex.

He was looking at you, his dark eyes soft in the dim light. You could just make out the outline of his smile.

For a moment, it seemed like he hadn't heard, or registered, what you'd said. He was just holding your gaze like he was lost in it, before he blinked, seeming to come to. He looked down quickly, sounding a bit flustered as he mumbled back, "Yeah, me neither."

He was fiddling with a stray thread on his jeans, and the way he was looking down, you couldn't help but think he might be blushing.

"This was nice," you say softly, if only to break the silence.

"Ye-yeah, yeah, it was." His eyes are on you again, his smile coming back a little shyly. After a moment, he shakes his head, groaning. "God, this feels like an awkward kid date."

Date. The word bounces around your head like the DVD logo on crack, but you manage to push past that. "What?" you half laugh, trying to understand what he meant by that.

He leans back against the wall, sighing a little. "Look, I'm gonna be honest, I was gonna take you out to that little area by the river and make this whole moment, but then I saw the playground and then we just stayed here, and it was nice, but I wanted to..." He scratched the back of his neck as he laughed awkwardly, "Honestly, I wanted to impress you."

You'd imagined what it might be like, having Alex confess to you. You'd daydreamed scenarios ranging from dramatic heartfelt confessions on a beach sunset with swelling music playing, to soft whispers in his arms as he held you. But, somehow, this was more potent than anything.

"I mean, I really like having you as a friend, and I don't ever want to change that, but I really like you, and I thought maybe you felt the same so I was gonna do this whole thing to ask you out but now I'm just rambling, and frankly, it's embarrassing, but yeah, I just... yeah.." He trailed off, his burst of confidence having fizzled out slightly, leaving him vulnerable as he met your eyes to search for an answer.

It was so wonderfully awkward. It wasn't the grand romantic gesture you dreamed of, but it was so real and silly and... perfect. The butterflies zooming around your insides kept the smile growing on your face, even as you tried to quell it.

As you opened your mouth to speak, there was no clever remark, no witty jab. Only the soft breath of laughter as you realized that you were speechless, trying to convey your thoughts through an excited nod.

His awkwardness was gone in an instant, replaced by unbridled joy as he realized, tackling you in a hug that you tried to return, though your arms were partially pinned to your sides.

"Can I kiss you?" You heard him ask it in a whisper, like he didn't even mean for you to hear it.

His head moved back slightly to meet your eyes again, a smile playing on his lips as you gave your small affirmation, his hold softening to a light touch on your hips. As he leaned in, one of his hands moved up to your face, gently guiding your jawline up.

His lips were soft, his kiss hesitant only for a moment. Then, he was a whirlwind, grabbing you closer like he couldn't get enough, pressing kisses to your lips through soft giggles that you couldn't help but echo, feeling his warmth envelope you.

When you finally parted again, you were both breathless, giggling messes again.

"We should probably head back," you say with a grin that wouldn't leave.

"Mmm, one more minute," Alex grinned back, pulling you back into another kiss.

Well, who were you to argue with that?

[genesisrose74]

Believe It, Baby

AHH HELLO I LIVE!! I am so sorry about my lack of publishing content besides some general community posts as of late - I’ve probably said this before but school is a buttface sometimes :// I’ve been really enjoying the new episodes of Haikyuu so I decided to finish a self indulgent fic to try getting back on track! Kinda like how it worked out so here it is!! Yes, it is Hinata again, how did you freaking know???

Pairing: Hinata Shoyo x Fem!Reader

Words: 2122

*******

“I don’t believe it for a damn second.”

The ginger under scrutiny groans for what seemed the eighth time that day, shooting his friend an exasperated look as they walk into the practice gym. “I swear, Kageyama! She’s in the college preparatory class with Yachi!”

At this, said blonde turns her attention to the entering duo with a curious tilt of her head.

“What’s this about someone in my class?” she inquires politely.

Kageyama glances at Yachi. “Hinata says that he’s dating one of your classmates, which I say is a bunch of crap.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Bakageyama? I’m her boyfriend!”

Tsukishima scoffs from across the gym.

“Sounds like someone had too vivid of a dream last night,” he jeers, Yamaguchi snickering beside him.

Even Tanaka and Noya doesn’t seem to believe the aspiring ace, the former clapping a hand on Hinata’s shoulder with a philosopher’s air about him.

“It’s alright to be single, little man. You don’t gotta go and make something up to look cool.”

Hinata huffs before shuffling to set up the court for practice, while Sugawara takes his position as mother crow by smacking the troublemaker second years upside the head.

“I for one believe you, Hinata,” the silver haired setter declares, smiling when the first year boy beams with happiness.

“Thank you, Suga-senpai! At least someone here does.”

“Mind telling us what she’s like?” Daichi chimes in.

Hinata’s grin blossoms even wider, and his gaze turns excited. “She’s amazing, and really smart, and super competitive! And she’s...also really pretty…” he trails off in embarrassment.

Suga gushes at his flustered state, ruffling his kouhai’s mop of orange hair. “Look at you, all affectionate. She must be special.”

Yachi follows up with a nod of agreement at Sugawara’s statement, joining Hinata on the court for set up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s her name?” the manager in training questions.

When the middle blocker tells her proudly, the remaining first year boys all bust out in laughter.

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Yamaguchi guffaws. “Isn’t she like one of the smartest students in our grade?”

Hinata nods affirmatively, and Tsukishima shakes his head with a dry laugh. “Try picking a more believable person next time, Hinata. There’s barely even a chance that you’ve ever crossed paths with her before, let alone dated the girl.”

Yachi, on the other hand, takes a moment to ponder on Hinata’s words, not even close to giggling like the rest of her fellow first years.

“You know,” she mumbles to herself, “that’s honestly not that far of a stretch, considering how outgoing she is.”

The orange haired boy offers her a weary half-smile for at least thinking he had a shot with who he claimed, but made no further attempt to emphasize that he was in fact dating said girl. It was clear that nearly none of the team would believe him without solid proof.

Coach Ukai grabs the team’s attention, and from then on leads a rotation of digging drills to help improve everyone’s foundational abilities. This format of training continues for most of practice, such routines making it easier for some of the boys (namely Tsukishima) to laugh about Hinata’s “attempt'' at having a girlfriend in line. Said middle blocker remains in a pouty mood due to such circumstances, but decides to keep it quiet for the time being - lest he dig a bigger hole in which his teammates could tease him.

Soon enough, practice for the day is over, and the Karasuno boys organize their things in the club room before filtering outside. As Hinata waits outside for the rest of his team to come downstairs, the whole team planning on making a stop at Ukai’s store, his phone screen lights up with a soft chime.

Hi sunshine! Did your practice just finish?

The first year smiles, knowing that you must have snuck him a text during your student council meeting, and quickly opens his phone to type something back.

Hi angel!! Yeah, we’re gonna get something at Ukai’s rn

Hinata playfully raises an eyebrow at your fast response, the chat bubble popping up right away. Usually you’re pretty invested in your club meetings, so today’s must be a pretty boring topic.

Wanna save me a meat bun pretty please 🥺

If there’s an extra I will <3

:D hehe thank u love

Tanaka’s voice breaks the ginger’s focus from his texts, the second year shouting about food as he ushers the team towards the school exit. Hinata tosses his phone into his practice bag and catches up with the walking group, his mood significantly improved from just minutes ago.

*****

The town is basked in the soft glow of street lights as the team makes their way down the hill to Ukai’s, currently unaware of a presence in a sprint to get to them.

Your fellow Student Council members had shot a bewildered look in your direction as you scrambled to pack up and hustle out the classroom door. You ushered a quick goodbye to them before stuffing your phone in your skirt pocket, determined to surprise your boyfriend after the council meeting ended early.

Maybe you were starting to regret the idea of running in the god-awful flats Karasuno High enforced in their dress code, but you pushed past the irritation in favor of keeping pace. That meat bun wouldn’t stay hot forever, you reasoned, but in reality the opportunity to see your shining boyfriend truly drove your motivation.

After finally getting a glimpse of a large group near the base of the hill, a spark of victory flames in your heaving chest at your persistence. With a heavy sigh, however, you realize that your competitive ball of energy was likely at the head of the bunch, racing that setter with whom he always argues. Your plight was not over yet.

So, attempting to reign in your eagerness to see the ginger haired boy of your affections, you continue the path down the quite steep hill, this time using the art of determined speed walking. The soles of those forsaken flats on your feet would not be forgiving if you started running again, anyways.

When you finally manage to close in on the team, Sugawara is the first to notice you, observing for a moment before nudging Daichi on his right. The Karasuno captain looks confusedly at his vice captain, the latter’s eyes holding a parent-like intuition.

“I think that’s her,” the silver haired third year murmurs, nodding his head in your direction as you make your way closer.

“Who’s her?” Daichi whispers back, and Suga looks like he’s about to karate chop him in the side.

“Hinata’s girlfriend, Dai!” he hisses. “Look at who she’s focused on.”

Daichi follows your gaze to find the little decoy first year at the end of it, causing him to raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So he really wasn’t pulling Kageyama’s leg.”

The two third years of Karasuno watch you with great interest as you inch your way to the front of their group, more of the boys taking note of your presence with the passing moments.

The only few who don’t seem to notice are the gaggle of first years in the front, many of whom are bickering with each other. Yachi is the only one in your grade to see you as she walks beside Kiyoko, and you give her a small wave before putting a finger to your lips. All she can do in response is nod, mouth slightly agape at the fact that you even acknowledged her in the midst of your pursuits.

“-If there’s an extra bun in the bag today I call dibs!”

“And since when have I ever listened to you, pipsqueak?”

“Who’re you calling pipsqueak, you giraffe!?”

You have to conceal your chuckle at the group’s antics. You’d been told a handful about the first years known as Hinata’s teammates, but had yet to formally meet them due to your consistently busy schedule. Today, you felt it was about time for that to change.

Yamaguchi picks up on you, followed quickly by Tsukkishima when his freckle-faced best friend notifies him with a tap on the shoulder. Even Kageyama, who somehow managed to get into yet another argument with Hinata, slows his banter as he gazes at you, completely bewildered.

The last person left in the dark is - of course - none other than your dumbass of a boyfriend.

“Why did you get so quiet all of a sudden?” the aspiring ace inquires. “It’s ‘cause you realized that I would win the argument anyways, huh?”

The boy jumps when he feels you sidle up next to him, brushing your arm against his own.

“Yes, sunshine, that’s surely the reason.”

The first year whips his head to face your playful smirk, before practically launching himself into you and trapping you in a bear hug.

“You surprised me!” he exclaims with a giddish grin, nuzzling into your figure.

“That was kind of my plan,” you laugh. “Student council meeting ended early, so here I am.”

Hinata didn’t seem to want to let go of you any time soon, so you resorted to taking his face in your hands and pecking his cheeks.

“You gonna introduce me or not, silly?”

The middle blocker was blushing like crazy at this point, reddening with the realization that his entire team was a current audience to the little show taking place.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he gestures to you awkwardly, and you couldn’t hide the small smile that curls on your lips. “You’ve probably seen her with the Student Council before.”

You wave enthusiastically to the team, many of whom are still recovering from the newly confirmed discovery (namely, some very skeptical first years).

“So, he wasn’t joking?” Yamaguchi spoke up, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Aw yeah, Hinata!” Tanaka whistled, “Sorry that I ever underestimated you!”

“Good job, Shoyo!” Nishinoya affirms, jumping on his second year best friend in excitement. “She’s a cutie too!”

The first year squeezes your midsection tighter to your surprise, seeing as his face was practically steaming from previous team comments.

“She is cute,” he mumbles, and the unexpected statement elicits a laugh from your lips.

You tap the ginger’s nose playfully, bringing his attention to your content smile. The sight of it causes him to grin right back giddily, momentarily forgetting the larger group beside him once more. “Saved me a meat bun, Sho?”

He was like this whenever at the other’s house or on a date: mushy, cuddly, affectionate, the whole nine yards of fluffiness. Public spaces involving acquaintances, however, was a bit of a different story, as Hinata got very easily flustered in front of teasing friends. Even without meeting the other team members of Karasuno before, it was quite obvious.

“I always manage to when you ask,” he responds proudly, although a faint frown briefly appears on his features for a moment, “but Tsukishima’s being a bit of a jerk about it today.”

The blond in question sends his fellow middle blocker a look of annoyance, before his expression melts into a cheshire grin as he turns to you.

“Just didn’t want him eating too much, that’s all,” he explains. “Overindulgence isn’t a great habit for athletes, you know. But since you’re actually here and not a figment of Hinata’s imagination, that’s absolutely fine with me.”

“Hey! You saying I’m a pig or something?” the first year pipes up with a glare.

Tsukki smirks. “Or something.”

Sugawara steps in to lessen the obvious tensions between your feral ginger and the smug beanpole, giving them both a deathly glare that practically screamed, ‘don’t make me whoop your asses in front of a student council member’.

You giggled at the team’s dynamic, one that clearly resembled a rambunctious family on their nightly outing together. It really was just as you had imagined the first time your boyfriend described it to you - with maybe a bit more emphasis on the rambunctious than you had previously inferred. But it was actually quite enjoyable to be around.

As the group finally started on their way again after your surprise introduction, Hinata came up beside you once more with a curious glint in his eyes.

“What are you smiling all giddishly about?” he inquires, head tilted a fraction.

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at the question. “I just really enjoy being around your team is all.”

The aspiring ace of Karasuno interlocks his fingers with yours as you stroll along together down the street, his teammates in tow as they observe the situation before them with some remaining bewilderment.

“Good, cause I think they might like you too.”

[minerstatus]

Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of them.  It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 5/? on Ao3

Chapter 1

The school located on an island inside the neutral zones between nations is a blessing for anyone without a swimming pool filled with mora. Without money you have to be gifted a vision to attend. That is why Lumine thought she would never be accepted to such a place. Instead cursed to live her life on a small farm on the outskirts of Mondstadt, killing small monsters for money to aid her ailing mother.

She had become quite the prodigy around the area. Her sword work was nothing to be trifled with. Some would even gush about what it would be like if she did have a vision. Then it happened, a strange string of life changing events.

-

 She enjoyed spending her free time sitting under the statue of the seven in windrise. It gave her a reprieve from her day-to-day life of school, killing, then sleep. She polished her blade most days she sat there, enjoying the sounds of the wilderness around her.

 As she sheathed her blade, wistfully thinking about what it would be like to magically summon and desummon it as a vision user, a light began to shine behind her. There was a flash, she thought maybe a vision might appear in front of her. But this was no test or life changing event. It didn’t make sense.

 Wind surrounded her body, lifting her skit in the breeze. She turned, it followed with her. She lifted her hand as a power surged through her. A burst of wind jetted from her palm and sliced across the water. It trimmed the tops off the over grown grasses lining the ponds edge. The wind died down and left her for elsewhere as the light slowly faded out of existence.

 Befuddled, she stared at the palms of her hands. She felt a power emanating from her core. With a trembling arm she raised her palm again, calling forth on the energy. It darted from her as before. Shocked, she tried it again and again, smiling gleefully with each blast of wind. She twirled around, searching for her vision, but came up empty.

-

That is how the first visionless anemo user was born. At first people didn’t believe her. Delusions were not unknown to the common folk of Teyvat. They were a staple favorite of the mafia families across the regions. But she quickly smashed those theories to pieces. Not only was she a poor farm girl fighting to survive, but where on earth would she have the money to afford such a thing. She allowed an inspection of her things and a pat down to prove it.

After the authorities decided that she did not have a vision she was free to do as she wished. That was until the head master of Teyvat’s school for the gifted showed up on her doorstep. The scholarship she was offered would give more money to her mother per month than she could in six months of hunting. She took it without question.

That’s how she ended up here, gawking at the building in front of her. The school defied the rumors. Statues carved from marble, fountains that defied gravity, even the wood it was built from looked impossibly expensive. Heck, the wildlife looked like they ate from golden platters.

The only thing that held her from running right back to the boat was a woman pinning her down with a chemically assisted cheerful gaze. A shiver ran up her spine as she waved her over. She obliged only because her eyes looked a hair away from snapping into crazy land.

“Welcome to Teyvat’s finest Lumine!” She cheered and began to clap.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, intimidated by her nature. She looked like a robot. Sleek black hair, not a strand out of place. Perfectly pressed blazer and pencil skirt in matching shades. Her glasses glistening in the sunlight, even if they were just plain black frames. She hoped not everyone in this school looked or felt this way.

“Follow me and I'll take you to your dorm. Then it’s a trip around campus!” She quipped then turned on her heel. Even her footsteps were a perfect tempo.

They walked through the faculty building, which thankfully looked normal inside. The site quelled her turning stomach. It was into the garden next that, as expected, looked immaculate. They even had a massive sand garden. Back in Mondstadt something like that would be destroyed in seconds.

Eventually they came upon another wooden building with a large ‘girls’ over it. The woman stopped and spun so fast on her heel Lumine almost let out small scream.

“This is the girl's dorm; your roommates are waiting for you inside with your things. I'll be back in thirty minutes for the rest of the tour,” she said, smile never once faltering as she left Lumine to her own devices.

Her roommates were nice, they greeted her in the common room just as her guide stated. Amber was a bit too enthusiastic for just about anything. Barbara was a very cheerful girl but was more reserved. It was a breath of fresh air to see two friendly faces. They led her to their dorm to get settled.

“So, what do you think?” Amber asked as Lumine began to unpack her luggage. Placing her uniforms carefully into her small closet along with her own casual clothing. Her own things almost felt dirty comparted to the schools uniform she was provided. And the room was much bigger than what she expected from a dormitory.

“It's overwhelming,” She admitted.

“You'll get used to it,” Amber laughed.

“Are you?” Lumine began to ask.

“Scholarship,” Amber answered, holding up her vision, “They keep the poor kids together so we don’t infect the rich kids.” She laughed.

“Hey!” Barbara yelled at her. Lips pointing into a pout.

“Except for Barbara, she requested to room with me. She's the exception.” Amber smiled at her friend.

“So, it's exactly how I thought it would be,” Lumine grumbled. This school was probably dripping with rich kids causing trouble for the normal folk, like she expected.

“Some of the students are alright, indifferent you might say. But there are,” Amber held up her hands as air quotes, “those types.”

“Will you guys be in my classes?” She asked.

“Nope, third years!”

Lumine felt her insides twist. Great, now she would be alone on her first day. At least her dorm would be nice. Amber was warm and friendly and Barbara seemed sweet even if she wasn’t talking as much. The pair would only be a year below her so they were still close in age. Hopefully she wouldn’t be moved to another dorm with the ‘adults’ if she attends the next four years after this one.

“You don’t want to be in our year anyways,” Barbara laughed.

“Whys that?” Lumine felt a small smile form for the first time since she set foot on the island. Barbara wiggled her eyebrows and gleamed over at Amber. She turned red in response and threw a pillow at her.

“Stop! Its not my fault!” She shouted.

“It’s gross the way he drools over his desk for you,” Barbara added.

“Mind filling me in?” Lumine asked.

“No!” Amber shouted.

“She has this wolf boy that follows her around and causes trouble. Its adorable,” Barbara said anyways.

“I didn’t ask for it he just did it!” Amber defended herself.

“It's like a comedy slash horror show every day,” Barbara giggled.

“Stop teasing me,” Amber whined.

“Wolf boy?” Lumine asked. Mondstadt had a steady population of people descendant of shape shifters or animals, but she had never seen a wolf before. Most of them were cats. Granted, she did keep to herself and didn’t really mix with the town folk, even at school.

“Half werewolf, half human, grew up in the wild before coming here earlier in the year,” Amber explained.

“He can smell everything, it's awful,” Barbara moaned, “one time I tried to bring some leftovers from lunch and he almost ripped apart my bag looking for it.”

“Sounds like a nice boyfriend,” Lumine said, hiding her smile as she sorted items into her desk drawers. Amber gasped from behind her. She swallowed a laugh.

“H-he's not my boyfriend!” She yelled. Lumine busted and began to giggled along with Barbara. She was interested in seeing the exchanges between the two now.

“Very funny guys, I'll make sure to make fun of your pain in suffering next time I get the chance.” Amber crossed her arms.

“Alright I'll stop,” Barbara waved her hand at her. A sharp knock on the door quickly soured the cheerful mood. The door swung open and Lumine’s guide walked in.

“Fantastic, I'm so glad you are getting along with your new housemates. We must complete the tour now.” The woman said, still as cheerful as ever. Lumine noticed Barbara and Ambers shoulders fell on her entrance. “I'll be waiting out front,” she chirped and left.

“God, Mrs.Lee always gives me the creeps,” Amber said.

“Glad it's not just me,” Lumine laughed as she stood.

“Good luck! See you at dinner,” Amber waved as Lumine exited the room. She heard faint whispers of gossip as she left but knew it was nothing bad, those girls didn’t have a mean bone in them.

-

They walked around campus and Lumine slowly became accustomed to the wildly expensive taste. She was shown the inside of the year one through four buildings, for the fourteen-to-eighteen-year old's. Then the outside of the adult facilities. Mrs. Lee assured the only real difference between the two was the uniform requirement and some extra freedoms.

After taking the tour she felt less overwhelmed, but it was the final stop that really cemented the reality most of the students lived in. It was the cafeteria of the school, but should have been classified as a food court. There was the line for the scholarship students where they could use one of three free meal tickets per day, or a snack coupon, all loaded onto her school ID. Wich was normal, same thing that she had in Mondstadt, minus the dinner.

What was different was the restaurants lining the walls. Everything you could imagine from each region on tap. And the prices were nothing to scoff at. A Fishermans toast was going for ten thousand mora, she could make that for less than three hundred back home. Lines scaled out to the isles as students waited, eager to be robbed for food.

“Lumine!” A familiar voice shouted. She sighed in relief. A distraction to this insanity was required right about now. She carried her tray adorned with less appetizing food from the school over to the table Amber sat at.

“This place is crazy,” Lumine sighed in exhaustion.

“My first day I ran away,” Amber laughed. She placed a spoon full of mac and cheese into her mouth.

“Those prices are more than I make in three weeks back home,” She said as she began to eat. Pleasantly surprised that even the free food was delectable. The pasta was perfectly cooked, cheese sauce an ideal creamy texture. She moved on to nibble at her cookie, baked expertly with a crispy outside and a gooey center. “God,” she murmured, savoring the taste.

“I told you, you get used to it,” Amber smiled sweetly. A book bag slamming down on the table instantly cleared her face. She looked up to see what she assumed was the wolf boy from earlier discussions. Lumine wondered why Amber felt it was bad to have his attention. He was attractive, silver hair and red eyes, giving him an exotic look. His arms were coated in scars and a massive one gashed his face, not a bad look if your into that type. Some of the girls back home would swoon over the attention.

“Why,” She groaned as he pulled out a seat, pushing it right up against hers as he sat a plate of meat and potatoes down. It must have been one of the free creature meals from the school line. He sat, making sure he was as close as physically possible to her.

Okay, maybe that’s why. Lumine began to understand.

He tilted his head like a new puppy, “Why?” He asked, voice thick with an unknown accent.

“We talked about this,” She shoved his chair away. “This is Razor,” She sighed as he sunk into his chair to pout. Lumine nodded and greeted him with a smile.

“I bought brownies!” Barbara sang as she skipped over to the table, “For our new friend,” She handed out the sweets, “And beef jerky for you,” She said as she handed Razor a slim piece of dried meat. He perked up and took it, chewing on it greedily. After the experience with the cookie Lumine thought the food couldn’t get better. But the brownie was smooth decadent layers of velvet chocolate that melted in her mouth. She had to suppress a groan.

There was a pickup of chatter in the room that pulled her from her chocolate induced fantasy. She looked towards the entrance of the café where a group of boys walked in. They were followed by a gaggle of other students, mostly female, all adorned with an expensive accessory or more.

Lumine was an honest person and she did not deny to herself that these boys looked like royalty. They walked with an air of confidence even through the crowd, knowing that the sea of students would part for them. She counted each of their visions, anemo, geo, cryo and hydro. There was a distinct leader to the group out of the four. A redhead who wore his vision on his belt, showing it off by messily tucking in half of his unkept shirt. Like he wanted people to see it, unlike the rest of them that wore them on chains by their side, as did everyone else in the school.

“Don't stare,” Amber hissed. Lumine snapped her eyes to her friends.

“Who are they?” She asked. Amber eyed her wearily before divulging the information.

“Sons of the school's elite,” She glanced back at the group to ensure they were distracted with food or girls before continuing, “The shorter one with green hair is Xiao, the son of the wangshu inn owner. The geo looking guy is Zhongli from the Wangsheng funeral parlor. Blue hair is Kaeya, one of the sons from the dawn winery.” Amber stopped speaking as she got to the last subject. Lumine quirked a brow as both Barbara and Amber swiveled their heads to check on the group again.

“It's not really them you should be weary of though; besides Xiao they are nice. Xiao has always had a stick up his butt,” Barbara added to the conversation.

“Then what is it, why are we acting like we are defusing a bomb?” Lumine asked.

“It's Childe, the redhead,” Amber whispered.

“Childe? That’s a dumb name,” Lumine thought out loud. The girls hissed at her to keep her voice down.

“He smells mean,” Razor added. Amber pulled on his ear.

“I told you not to talk about him,” She growled at him. He grasped her hand in his, forcing her to release.

“But you are!” he argued.

“Thats because we are warning her!” Amber explained. Razors eyes darted from Ambers to Lumines and he resigned himself back to his half-eaten steak.

Amber rolled her eyes and turned back to Lumine, “It’s not his real name, no one even knows his real name.”

“Childe is an awful nickname,” She whispered back to her friend.

“He’s mean, and evil, once he has you in his sights there's no stopping it.” Amber warned her.

“What about his friends? Don’t they say something?” She asked.

“They are rich, us poor folk don’t matter to them even if they act cordial towards us,” Amber told her as she leaned back, “Besides you don’t have a vision, he will probably just ignore you.”

Lumine widened her eyes, “well...” She felt a tint come to her cheeks, “Actually...”

Amber slammed her fists on the table, “NO WAY! YOUR THAT GIRL!” she screamed. Drawing the attention of half the students.

“Show us!” Barbara insisted.

“Ah, I don’t think now is the best time.” Lumine tried to quell her friend's voices but both girls were oblivious to the attention they were attracting. She glanced over at the red head she was warned about to make sure he was still entranced at whatever activity he had chosen.

“Awh comon I wanna see!” Amber whined.

“First anemo user in history without a vision! Don’t hold out on us!” Barbara added.

“Fine! Just stop yelling at me,” Lumine finally conceded. She put her palm face up on the table and gathered a small amount of wind to it. It tinted green with her power as it swirled into a miniature tornado in her palm.

“This is so cool!” Amber gasped.

“It's the same as anyone else,” Lumine said, closing her hand to cease the wind. She was more than a bit tired of people going ballistic over her powers.

“Let's get back to the dorms,” Amber suggested, “We have much to talk about,” She smiled gleefully. Razor whimpered next to her, “fine you can come too,” She sighed. Razor looked up with a beaming smile.

“Boys are allowed in the girls dorms?” Lumine asked as they gathered their trays and bags.

“Only until eight with a strict open-door policy,” Barbara told her.

She hummed in response as the group made their way over to the trash bins. Eyes were on her now, some searching for a vision trinket she didn’t possess. She was the last one out the door when a chill tingled down her spin. She grabbed the back of her neck and turned, expecting a cryo user to be standing there with a smirk on their face.

Instead, she was greeted with sea blue eyes cutting through the crowd. He smirked when they made eye contact. The chill went down her entire body. She glared as the door to the building swung shut, cutting them off.

Shit.

[jtrokujo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐆

paring: Fumikage Tokoyami x fem!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

gerne: fluff, romance

summary: Today should be a pleasant day as planned, you go to school, hang out with friends and do silly things with friends in the dormitory. However, since she was getting her period, she had to put all of that aside and spend her day alone in her room, so that's the way it was meant to be.

—

In a bad mood, the UA student clutched the covers and waited obsessively for the pain to stop.

Like any young woman, she had her period this morning unhappily so the pain prevented her from sleeping, but she planned to go on a date with her boyfriend right after school.

When the couple in love go for a walk through the city, eat various street foods, buy new clothes, and probably also new games in which they can play together and still see the sunset in a high mountain.

It's nothing special, but that Tokoyami has prepared everything gives her a guilty conscience.

Out of shame and hatred, she wrote her boyfriend that she unfortunately has to cancel the date, the pain will certainly go away, but it is clear that it would come.

After a few minutes someone knocked on the door, in a morning voice she said that the door is open and no one other than Tokoyami came, but not alone but with his classmates like, Deku, Denki, Ochako, Momo and Jirou.

Confused, she looked at her friends and waited for someone to say something, but instead of saying something, Denki threw himself on his good friend's bed and sighed that he would sleep too and made himself comfortable.

Deku and the others gave their friend something sweet to nibble on and, as they say among friends, wished them a speedy recovery.

Tokoyami stayed with his girlfriend a little longer to make sure that she is no worse than before.

He gently put his hand on her forehead, causing her to sigh softly and finally apologize, "I'm sorry. You have so much planned for today's date and what came ... my rules, but we could do it anyway, right?" "

"As long as you're not doing well, I don't want to risk anything. Besides, we could do a film marathon today, that sounds good, doesn't it?"

She nodded in agreement and closed her eyes and last heard how the door was slammed before she set off into her dream world.

TIME SKIP

After school, the boyfriend, in contrast to his classmates, made his way to the dormitory, but made his way to town so that he could buy small treats for himself and his girlfriend.

Unaccompanied, he went through the various shelves and took the snacks he thought his girlfriend would like.

When he got to the cash register, he put the purchases on the belt and waited for his cell phone to ring.

It was none other than (Y / N), he quickly accepted and ran through the city until he stuck out in front of a game store "Where are you?" immediately asked the friend.

She sounded tired, it could probably be that she just got up. "I'll probably be there in half an hour. Besides, I'm in town, are you feeling a little better?"

When Tokoyami asked his question, he walked in and saw the tons of games for Ps4 / 5, xBox but also Nintendo.

"Well, I've already felt better, but tell me what are you doing in town, it's raining all the time. You could catch a cold." worried the young friend and saw a series on her television screen that she doesn't even know.

"(Y / N)."

"Yes?"

"You sound like a mother, you don't need to say yourself, ok? If I am on my way, I will let you know or we could talk the whole time, but I have to do something important now. See you .”

"And?" asked Mina and ate what actually belonged to her friend.

Sighing, she gave in and said, mumbling, "He said he had something 'important to do' and was coming later."

"Understand."

TIME SKIP

A few hours have passed when Tokoyami finally enters the dormitory.

Some students were in the entrance and greeted him immediately, Denki approached Tokoyami and asked him if they wanted to spend the night with a series marathon, but he had to cancel so reluctantly, but why?

Because his girlfriend is not doing very well first thing in the morning, he thought that he could spend this time playing video games with her and probably watching one or the other film before that.

Tokoyami explained to Denki why he can't today, he nodded understandably and said that dinner was ready.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes." he sighs and made his way to his girlfriend.

Immediately after he knocked on his girlfriend's door about 3 times, it was opened immediately, but not by his girlfriend.

"Hello, Tokoyami." Mina pleased me and immediately turned to (Y / N) who finally got up from her bed.

"Tokoyami." she said and ran up to him, but when she wanted to hug him he immediately held a bag between the gap and said "You can see what's in there after dinner."

Lovely.

Confused, Mina Tokoyami stared and felt uncomfortable between the atmosphere of the two, so she clapped her hands together and said with glee "Ok, let's eat then, don't you think?"

In the dining room everyone talked to everyone, while (Y / N) sat between Momo and Tsu and talked to them, Tokoyami sat between Shoto and Iida, who were extremely quiet.

Sometimes she forgets herself that she is also here in the dining room.

"Hey, (Y / N)!" came the voice from across the room.

(Y / N) immediately stopped eating and looked in the direction where it was coming from, Kirishima.

"Is something? Do you need something?" she asked him immediately, but he didn't look like he wanted anything.

"No, I don't need anything, but thanks for asking. I mainly just wanted to know if you're feeling a little better?" he giggled and scratched his neck.

"Oh, thank you, I'm much better now."

Without a question, everyone continued with what they left off.

Today it was (Y / N) washing up, Ochako actually wanted to do it, but (Y / N) assured her friend that she didn't have to worry about anything and that she could go to her room.

Still, someone stayed by her side and it was none other than Tokoyami.

Of course he knows his girlfriend and knows that it is more of a challenge to have to persuade her to do something.

After several attempts, he finally gave in and helped her rather than persuading her to let him do the chores.

So while (Y / N) is doing the dishes, Tokoyami dries the cleaned dishes.

The only thing I was listening to in the room was the running water, rubbing the sponge and dishes and also rubbing through the dry cloth and the still wet dishes.

The friend sighed bored and finally turned the tap on, she turned her gaze to her boyfriend, who, however, seemed to be very busy drying off.

After Tokoyami was finished, he turned around and saw his girlfriend sitting on a chair, but she was staring bored at her screen and obviously didn't notice that her boyfriend was staring at her.

"(Y / N), are we going?"

Immediately she switched her cell phone to mute and got up from her chair and asked him "Are we going to my or your room?"

"I prefer your room." he said, because, unlike his room, it doesn't look as dark as his girlfriend's.

Once in the room, Tokoyami (Y / N) asked to sit down on her bed and be patient so that he would come back in about 5 minutes.

However, it appeared again in 3 minutes, albeit with a huge bag, if she had noticed it before, she doesn't think so.

"What is it, Tokoyami?" she wondered, getting up from her bed.

"Lie down again and I'll show you."

(Y / N) sat down giggling, because she doesn't get this side of Tokoyami in her face every day until she finally remembered something, the little bag.

Surprised, she asked Tokoyami what was there and pointed in the direction of where the little bag was.

He looked in this direction and got up with a sigh, sitting on her bed he asked which bag she would like to start with.

Thinking about it, (Y / N) first decided on the small bag.

When Tokoyami handed it to his girlfriend, he didn't know what to do himself, should he look at her unpacking, should he rather start a conversation with her, should he turn on the television or shouldn't he do it at all and stare at the floor?

The best was very promising for him, which is why he opted for this variant and stared at the floor while his girlfriend unwrapped the small gift.

It was a bracelet that was sealed under silver and on top of that his name.

Slightly wounded and yet shy, she looked at her friend, who stuck his left arm out.

He was wearing the same bracelet - which of course was engraved with his girlfriend's name.

"Tokoyami, I don't know what to say about that, except thank you."

In a warm hug, Tokoyami felt the warmth that (Y / N) carries within him, and he felt his girlfriend's heartbeat beating more and more against his body from second to second.

Tokoyami patted his girlfriend's back nervously and unsuspectingly until he breaks the hug in a few minutes and shows the big bag in front of her nose and says "You haven't opened this yet."

After several minutes, with the couple busy talking and opening the presents, the convulsions came at an inopportune moment.

Groaning from the pain, (Y / N) narrowed her eyes and asked her friend if he would really like to get a hot water bottle.

Nodding, he was already on his way and came straight back into the room, when Tokoyami (Y / N) handed over the hot water bottle, he put his somewhat announced hand on her forehead and noticed that she might have a fever.

"(Y / N), shall I-" shortly afterwards (Y / N) Tokoyami interrupted him to be able to spend the night with her.

"Is it okay if we play video games tomorrow? I'm not doing so well right now." apologized (Y / N) for what she can't and took Tokyami's hand and squeezed it a little tighter than before.

"You don't have to apologize for that, (Y / N). We can also play together another time, because as long as you're not feeling well, I'll stay by your side."

"Tokoyami."

"Yes?"

"Since when have you been different?"

"I wonder about that too." Dark Shadow's voice came out of nowhere.

[bobohunn]

The 56th Street

Title : 56th Street

Pair : baekhyun x reader, baekhyun x you

Genre : angst, fluff, one shot

Warnings : language, and mentions of stalking, divorce and non consensual taking of pictures (not between pair)

Word count : 3k

Note : Italicized words are character/reader’s thoughts; indented (blockquote) and italicized paragraphs are flashbacks.

xx

“Are you busy right now?” a husky voice found its way to your ear from the other side of the line.

“No. Thank god,” you mumbled before letting a deep sigh leave your lips.

After ages, you finally heard your favorite sound on earth again.

It was the sound that went a little too high while singing along to Queen and Michael Jackson songs that played on the radio in your room while you did homework at 3 pm. The one that rang loud throughout the whole house while you danced to random and silly steps on the stage that is your bed at 3 am.

It was the same sound that went two octaves lower when you teased him too much about the little crush he seemed to harbor for the girl who sat beside him in 11th grade or when you asked him for one of his friend’s number. One that carried sweet nothings with it to your blushing ears the first time you got drunk on your birthday.

It was the very same sound that was once your refuge and salvation. The very same that calmed the erratic beating of your heart when you were nervous. One that chased your tears to crawl back up and hide in the corners of your round eyes when life enveloped you into darkness.

The voice you’ve been longing for more frequently these days.  

Your best friend’s voice.

He chuckled, his low register ringing through your eardrums. “Are you at home?” 

“No, but I’m walking home,” you say almost too softly, trying not to sound too excited.

There was a long period of silence. If you didn’t know Baekhyun enough, you would have already ended the call at the lack of response. However, you knew him way too well to see (hear) that he was still thinking about what he would say. So you just continued walking on your path slowly, occasionally looking over your shoulders in case you were blocking somebody’s way.

“You’re walking on that street again, aren’t you?” He hummed before asking in a very knowing tone. It took you a moment to process his question, so when you were about to defend yourself, Baekhyun had already started his nagging, “I told you not to take that street when I’m not with you!”

You smiled a bit at the realization that although you didn’t even answer yet, he already knew the truth. And your smile grew more prominent at the thought that he still knows you better than anyone.

The only person you wanted to remember you still knows you like you were the back of his hand. And you‘re not anywhere near remarkable for anyone— or even just for him at least, to remember you. Isn’t that an achievement for you?

Snorting out a laugh, you said, “Sorry, Baek. It’s the fastest way home.”

No. Actually, it’s the street that reminds me of you most.

It was the quietest street in your town, 56th street, both your favorite route to take. It was the street that held a huge part of your memories together with him and had all the little moments that piled up into ones you’ll treasure forever. The road that witnessed both of you grow from the innocent little boy and girl you once were to the lovely man and woman you both are today.

It’s the street that reminded you of when you first heard him laugh,

“Since we’re neighbors, and I’m new here, can’t you show me around the town?” the little boy said as he lifted his hands to his neck to scratch at the skin right below his jaw, making you stare at them in awe.

You snapped yourself out of your short trance and said blankly, “The only places I know are my house and the school.”

As cliché as it may sound, everything around you moved in slow motion as the side of the boy’s lips rose to his tinted cheeks. His eyes turned upside down, and his eyebrows raised. He laughed lightly before asking, “Then, should we see where this street ends?”

Of when you first saw him pout,

“Baekhyun, no. We have to go home,” you said as you continued on your track without looking back at him. He went silent, and a smirk crept up your face.

However, it grew too suspiciously silent. So you stopped walking and turned your head back, only to find a sulking Baekhyun. His hands were in his pockets, eyebrows knit together, cheeks puffed out, and his lower lip pouty. He slowly looked back up at you with his puppy eyes that always won you over.

“Oh my god, don’t give me that look. You’re making my head hurt.”

He moved closer to you and grabbed one of your hands, “I’ll stay over at yours for dinner so your mom won’t scold you for too long. Just please come with me to the supermarket. I’m really craving ice cream,” he said with his eyes quivering from left to right.

He’s onto something. “What do you have up in your sleeve, Mr. Byun? Tell me, or I’m not going with you,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at him.

He looked away from you and landed his gaze towards the ground again, “Y-you, I heard y-you crying in your room last night. I just want to buy you ice cream to cheer you up because I won’t be able to sleep knowing I hadn’t done anything for you before this day ended.”

When you first heard him curse and get mad,

“Excuse me, Dude. But what are those photos for?” you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Recognizing it as Baekhyun, you quickly looked over your shoulder to greet your friend.

“A-ah i-it’s just for documentation purposes for our group study,” stuttered the other guy whose back was turned to you.

You called out Baekhyun’s name, confused about the current situation laid in front of you. Your friend only raised his head to you and motioned for you to come to him, “do you know this guy?”

You approach the two men, curious as to who the other person is. When you caught a glimpse of the unfamiliar face, you slowly shook your head no. “I don’t think so. Do I have to?”

Baekhyun clicked his tongue and clenched his jaw. He sneered a little and turned his head to the side, making you more confused.

“The next time you make a fucking excuse, make sure it’s not as stupid as you look. Stop being a fucking pervert, you fucking stalking asshole.”

And of when you first heard him cry.

“Oh my god, Baekhyun, what happened?” you said as you brought the taller man’s head to your shoulder. You tried to rub his back and smooth out the creases of his school uniform, but he just started wailing more.

He was leaning into you, and you couldn’t take his weight anymore, so you guided him to sit down on the sidewalk. You tried to pull away from him, but he planted his face deeper into your neck, so you just hugged him tighter and drew unnamed patterns on his arms.

When his sobbing finally toned down, you tugged at his chin and made him look up at you. The redness of his nose, along with the tears in and around his eyes, made your heart hurt. Who on earth would try to make this man cry?

“You’re not telling me what happened?” you whispered as you wiped the tears that continued to drop down his cheeks.

“My mom wants to divorce my dad.”

You heard a small huff from his end, making you chuckle loud enough for him to hear.

You tilted your head to your side and pictured how he would have looked if he were actually walking with you today. Would he have had his hair down or gelled back? Would he have worn the oversized hoodies you told him were your favorite on him? Would he have walked in all his glory on the sidewalk in his new Js? Would he have looked at you with loving eyes, like he did back then?

“Still! Didn’t I tell you that I’d be mad and not call you if you walked there alone? That street is so quiet and far from people. It’s too dangerous!” he whined again.

A bitter taste started to spread in your mouth. You took a deep breath of the crisp air, “Yeah. I know it’s dangerous.”

Dangerously silent and lonely without you.

“Do you remember? That time when I told you to go home without me because I had fun playing football with my classmates?” he paused for you to answer, but he knows that you remember it anyway.

Yeah, when I almost cried, thinking you didn’t want to hang out with me anymore?

He laughed, “I think I hit my head somewhere that time, and I realized that I wanted to walk home with you. So I ran to catch up with you, but then I saw a guy taking pictures of you from the back.” You chuckled a little at how fast his tone changed from happy to angered towards the end.

You added in, “And you cursed him with all your heart, and I had to drag your boiling ass home or else you would have had a swollen hand.”

And when I thought my heart would explode, seeing you all worked up and protective of me.

You stopped walking and recalled how it exactly happened, where you exactly were, and what you exactly felt. While reminiscing, you could almost see the image of your younger self pulling the younger Baekhyun, who couldn’t take his eyes off the stranger who stalked you, pass by in front of your eyes.

“Yup. I decided to walk home with you every day since then. But now that I can’t, I made you promise not to walk 56th street, didn’t I?” Baekhyun said in a sing-song tone.

“Sorry,”

“I’ll let it go this time. But next time I really won’t call you for three months! Or even six months!” He taunted.

Even if I kept my promise and never walked on the same street again, when the time comes, you’d probably stop calling me.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay here. Training is getting hard, though. But I bet you five tubs of ice cream that I’m gonna be on national TV in 3 months!”

I need not bet because I know you’ll make it. It’s your lifelong dream, after all.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” Baekhyun beamed from your porch as he took off his shoes. You watched him with confused eyes from the couch of your father’s living room.

“What?”

He quickly approached you and pulled you up from your seat, “it’s time for us to take a walk. Long since we’ve done it, no?”

You and Baekhyun took your precious time to walk. One whole step before the other, as if scared that the sidewalk would run out if you walk faster.

You didn’t really say anything to each other, but the sound of the spring birds singing and your soles rubbing against the bricks on the sidewalk made you both feel entertained.

With longer legs and bigger feet, Baekhyun was walking slightly ahead of you. Having to catch up with his steps, you walked faster, eager to walk side by side with him. But he noticed that you were trying so hard to keep up with him, so he tried to make his steps smaller. Then, he moved closer to you until your hips touched each other.

It was always like this with Baekhyun. You’d take a walk together on 56th street without saying anything, and you’d still enjoy it. He would always end up walking ahead of you, and you would ever walk behind him. Then, when he notices that he’s walking too fast for you, he would start taking smaller steps so you could keep up with him. And when he thinks he’s walking slow enough to match your pace, he would close the gap between your bodies by putting an arm around your shoulders or waist or just by feeling your sides against his.

“I li-“

“I’m leaving,” Baekhyun started, cutting off what you wanted to say.

“What?” Your voice came out shaky, unsure of what you heard.

Baekhyun stopped walking, “I said I’m leaving. I’m leaving for the city.”

You blinked your eyes twice. Stiff as you were, you tried to open your mouth to say something which you couldn’t seem to remember anymore. Baekhyun giggled at how you looked.

“I’m gonna be an idol, [y/n]. I’m going to be a singer.” he said as his eyes twinkled with joy.

How? Where? When? Why? You wanted to ask him, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to move even a muscle except for your eyes.

“A company scouted me at graduation. They said I had the potential to be a singer. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure, but now I am.” He said while looking up at the cloudless sky.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you only managed to speak out the words, “I’m happy for you, Baekhyun.”

You didn’t see Baekhyun the week after that walk because he was busy packing, and you were busy denying to yourself that he was leaving. So when you saw him from your window pushing boxes unto the trunk of his parents’ SUV with his hair white as snow, you couldn’t help but jump out from where you were standing.

You accidentally pushed your windowpane in an attempt to save your face from kissing the wooden floor, and it made a noise loud enough for Baekhyun to look up at your room. He waved up at you and motioned for you to meet him outside.

“Are you leaving today?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t able to tell you,” Baekhyun said as he scratched the skin under his ear. He always did this when he was in an awkward situation.

You stared at him without speaking. You took in how he looked for the last time. But you realized that it was too much for you. He was too much for you. So you focused on his now white hair that rested against his scalp, seemingly tired from the process of bleaching.

Baekhyun only smiled at you like a child that was offered candies and delight. You moved closer to him, eyes exploring his face and stopping at his lips for a few seconds before losing confidence again.

His name softly left your lips, to which he only hummed in response.

“I,” you paused for a moment, maybe two? or three. You don’t know.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline.

“I like your hair.” you said with a smile.

“Don’t I look like a real celebrity now?” he said as he let his fingers run through his locks.

“You do,” he always did.

You let yet another chuckle escape your mouth, although the last thing you wanted to do was laugh. “I’m still your best friend, right?” you questioned, though you were scared he’d say no.

However, you heard a different voice from his end of the call shout, “Baekhyun! 10-minute break is over!” and your friend responded with something you couldn’t catch. All that you knew was that he was laughing with someone, their voices slowly fading as if they were walking away from the phone.

He’s happier now. Even happier than when he was with me.

You used to associate his laugh with flowers, candies, love, and everything sweet. But now you can’t help but feel bitterness crawl up your spine, like a vine climbing its way up the walls and lampposts.

The cold and long blow of the wind made you feel nostalgic (if you weren’t yet), and you wanted as much to let it take you to wherever your heart is, where Baekhyun is.

“I have to go [y/n]! I’ll call you again soon!” he quickly said before a long beep was heard, announcing the end of the call.

Months passed, and you are still waiting for when his name flashes as the caller ID on the screen of your phone. Maybe he’s busy? Or he lost my number? Perhaps he changed his phone?

You wanted to ask his parents for his new number or even just how their son was doing. But you were surprised to find out that they already moved out of the house next to yours, when you returned from your grandparents’ house for a 3-week vacation. You wanted to ask your parents if they had his parents’ number, but then you decided that seeing him on TV and your phone screen was enough for you.

He’s clearly doing well.

He has got to be doing well. How could he not when he has been flashing the cameras the widest and prettiest smiles? The kind of smiles you never witnessed when he was with you.

He’s clearly happier than ever.

Although you kept saying that you were happy for him too, you just can’t deny that you do feel jealous of how far he had come. It was just like the long and silent walks you took with him throughout 56th street before: he was always steps ahead of you, and you were burning in jealousy behind him because of the advances his relatively longer legs brought him. Except that he was miles and dreams ahead of you now, and he couldn’t slow down his pace to match yours and stay by your side anymore.

He’s way too far ahead to turn and run back to me.

He’s probably living a better life.

He probably has funnier (best) friends to laugh with.

He probably has prettier eyes to stare at, softer hands to hold, and more comfortable shoulders to lean on.

He probably has a new favorite street to walk with somebody new. Somebody who’s better, somebody who’s not you.

And you started to accept that little by little.

You had started to move on.

You started to forget.

You finally let go.

But you kept the promise you made him.

You never walked 56th street again,

because he’s not there with you anymore.

—

[beck-a-leck]

For the AU ficlets, I come begging for more shameless indulgence: Dr. Trent x Pastor Carter 48. meeting again at a high school reunion au 🥺

I live to provide all of the shameless indulgence in tumblr prompt form!

Have a little high school reunion Trent and Carter in a slightly modern-ish AU, maybe perhaps just some pre-moving to Mineral Town AU.

Enjoy!

Ficlet AU Prompts

Trent sighed for what had probably been the tenth time in as many minutes as he carefully smoothed the adhesive nametag over his right breast pocket. The woman who had been handing out nametags at the reception table had looked vaguely familiar, but Trent hadn't recognized her last name. Then again, she had most likely gotten married over the last ten years if the ring on her finger and the swell of her belly indicated anything. On the other hand, he was at his high school reunion – the likelihood that people were lying to try and impress their former classmates or save face was higher than normal social situations. He joined the small throng of people who were shuffling into the hotel ballroom. The same place, supposedly, that had held their senior prom. He hadn't gone, he wouldn't know.

He scanned the dimly lit room, half looking for any familiar faces, half looking for the promised bar. He saw the bar at the far side, across the dance floor where a few people rocked and swayed to last decade's top hits under the lights of a disco ball, past the extensive display of posters and pictures of their high school years. Faces taken from the yearbook, group and club shots, those silly little 'elections' they'd done, most likely to succeed, prom king and queen, et cetera, and then somber in memoriam of former classmates who hadn't made it to their tenth reunion.

Trent sighed as he scanned the poster for any faces he recognized, there weren't many, fortunately, but he still felt a twinge of sadness at those who were there. With an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach, Trent recognized the name and face of a former patient, a car crash victim that had come through the ER while he had been doing his residency.

Trent pulled his eye onto the next poster; someone had kept a mint condition program from their high school graduation and had tacked it up with a collection of photos of classmates in their caps and gowns. Trent had gone to a large suburban school, his graduating class had counted nearly 500 students – by his best estimate of people in the ballroom now and nametags left on the table, less than half had deigned to come to their reunion. Actually, Trent had thought fewer people would come. With people flung far and wide across the globe in their adulthood, high school reunions weren't really the local events they had been ages past. With modern communication people who wanted to keep in touch with each other were already in touch, and life updates were easy to keep up with.

Hell, Trent hadn't even wanted to come to the reunion, not really. When he got the invitation, he half filled out the RSVP email out of curiosity, decided against it, had to go take care of a patient, and then forgot about the invitation until he opened his email again and accidentally sent off a half-finished response to the organizers. By the time they emailed him back, asking for the rest of the necessary details and if he had any desire to contribute old photographs or help organize, it felt impolite to refuse the invitation.

Trent made his way to the bar, grabbed a beer, and not feeling in any particular mood to dance by himself, wandered back over to the collage of pictures. He scanned them, looking for familiar faces. He hadn't sent in any of his own, so he didn't expect to find his face in the candid snapshots of laughing friends. But he found his yearbook photo, stiff toothless grin, unenthused and too thin and pimply and his hair cut unflatteringly in a style that was popular back then, and already too stressed out not knowing what was to come though undergrad and then med school. Trent laughed ruefully at this photo of his younger mug, looking just as awkward and ungainly as the classmates surrounding him. They'd all felt so grown back then, seventeen or eighteen, and on the cusp of true adulthood, looking back, even just ten years later, they all looked like kids. Goddess knew what Trent would think of this photo in another ten or twenty years.

He scanned the group pictures, knowing he would be in a few of the club photos. There, science club, hiding in the back row with the other taller boys, and math club, the very small Asian-American club. Enough extra curriculars to round out his resume and look impressive, but still leave him plenty of time to dedicate to his studies. No sports teams, Trent had never been very athletic. His stomach gave a weak lurch when he saw the varsity football team, the quarterback had been Trent's first crush on a boy, but then again half the school was swooning over the quarterback so he wasn’t alone. Unfortunately for Trent and most of the school, Travis had dated the same girl from freshman through senior year, so the crush had stayed a crush. Then there, in the debate club was Emily, the first girl Trent had dated. They'd been together for six whole months sophomore year.

He scanned the photos one last time, smiling despite the painfully embarrassing recollection of his most awkward years. There was a photo of his homeroom class, in matching t-shirts they'd made for their last week of school. He scanned the faces and tried to recall their names and found that he couldn't confidently place half of them. The last time he'd spoken to most of those kids was the last day of school. He wondered if any of them had also come to the reunion.

Another body stepped up to the photo board, Trent shot the newcomer a sidelong glance. He held a cup of punch in his hands, he was wearing a black suit, his sandy brown hair was cut short, he was clean shaven, and – Trent felt another swoop in his stomach – quite handsome in an everyman sort of way.

The man grinned at Trent. "Goddess look at us, we were just kids back then, weren't we?"

"Yeah." Trent took a sip of his beer. "Find yourself in any pictures?"

"Oh. I actively avoided any group activities in school, and I didn't bother with school pictures. But I think there was one I couldn't avoid; it was one of the days I actually bothered to show up. There." He pointed to Trent's homeroom group picture. There was mirth in his voice as he pointed, "There I am, the scowling one."

"That was my homeroom..." Trent did a double take between the sullen teenager with shaggy hair that had been dyed black, with a number of piercings and a couple tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeves, and the clean cut, easily smiling man with shining eyes, standing next to him sipping punch. He hadn't been wrong; he'd barely attended school enough to avoid getting held back or suspended. He'd had no friends that Trent knew of, had been, as Trent's father liked to loudly complain about, a 'no good shit kicking gutter punk.' And it was probably only because he had stood out like that in Trent's memory that the man's name came back to him.

"Carter?"

Carter's grin widened, "One and the same. Trent, right? I haven't forgotten everyone, have I?"

"No, you've got it." Trent offered his hand, and they shook. Carter’s hands were warm, slightly calloused. "How have you been? What have you been up to?"

“Oh, all kinds of things. Last ten years have been full of change for both of us, I imagine.” They stepped away from the photo boards to take a seat at a table. Carter’s eyes swept over Trent. “Let me guess, you went to med school, became a doctor, didn’t you?”

Trent’s eyes widened, why would Carter remember something so small like his projected career path from high school? “Yeah. How did you know?”

“It’s on your nametag.” Carter laughed.

“Oh, right.” Trent’s cheeks grew a little warm. He’d forgotten that nametags included professional titles, if acquired. And Trent didn’t go through eight years of medical education to not be called Doctor. He took another sip of beer before asking. “What about you? What are you up to?”

“Would you believe I’m in the seminary right now?” Carter laughed and took a drink. “I don’t think anyone who knew me back in school ever expected the angry, goth, near-dropout would end up becoming a priest, but here I am.”

The laugh lines were deeper on Carter’s face than most of their classmates. The wrinkles by his eyes were a little more pronounced. There were hints of past gauntness, a hollowness that was beginning to fill out. He’d been prematurely aged, looking older than their twenty-eight years. Trent suspected that Carter’s last decade hadn’t been as easy as it had for a lot of their peers. He’d seen a lot of faces come through the ER, aged prematurely by one substance or another.

“A priest? How did that happen?”

“Oh, a little of luck, a little divine intervention, and a lot of therapy.” He laughed again. Trent really liked the sound of that warm, easy laugh. “I didn’t exactly join up right after graduation, really it’s a recent development.”

They spent almost the entire evening sitting at that table, taking turns getting fresh rounds from the bar. They mingled with other classmates, making polite if mildly awkward small talk. Trent heard “wow, a doctor!” more times than he cared to count. But at the end of the night as he got into his car, he thought fondly that tonight wasn’t a complete waste of a Saturday. He left with Carter’s number and a plan to get lunch together on his next day off.

[agerefandom]

Cold Palms, Warm Words

Fandom: Twilight

Characters: Regressor!Reader (she/her pronouns), cg!Alice Cullen, Jasper Cullen

Words: 2,000

Summary: A stressful day at school finds you huddled in the bathroom, trying to feel bigger than you are. Help comes unexpectedly from Alice, one of your classmates, who seems to know exactly what you need.

Warnings: Involuntary regression in a school setting, anxiety, tears, and ~secret vampires~ (also, a reader who uses she/her pronouns!)

Written for @babymaxsworld​! (I love Alice and had a lot of fun with this prompt, thank you so much!)

You’re usually so good about not regressing at school. Some days, you bring your smallest stuffie to school in your backpack, just so you know that there’s a friend nearby, but you always try to stay big in class. Regression is for home, when you can close your door and cuddle up with all of your plushies to watch a cartoon.

But it’s a Friday afternoon, and you’re in the middle of math class, and you just can’t focus. You know that a hug from your stuffie would be so nice right now, but you can’t just bring them out in the middle of class. The thought of that comfort, so close yet so far away, is almost enough to make you tear up. Your throat is starting to hurt, and the numbers on the board are absolutely incomprehensible. Your pen is resting on the page, but it hasn’t moved in at least half an hour.

You can feel that you’re about to start crying, and you don’t want to draw any attention to yourself, but you take a shaky breath and put up your hand.

“Yes?” the teacher asks, pausing his lecture to look at you.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” you ask, clenching your pen between your fingers and willing your voice to be steady.

“Sure.” He walks over to his desk to get the hall-pass, and you stand up to take it on the way out. You try to smile at him as you leave, and he gives you a concerned look. You probably look almost as bad as you feel, but he hands over the hall-pass and you hear him picking up his lecture as you close the door behind you.

Once you’re in the empty hallway, you make a beeline for the bathroom and shut yourself into the stall in the corner. You didn’t see anyone else in here, but you still try to keep quiet as you let yourself begin to cry. You’re too small to be here, with all of these big kids, and you can’t do all this stupid complicated math! You want to be home with all of your stuffies and your softest blankets, and you couldn’t even take your backpack to the bathroom to get a hug from a single stuffie.

It’s not fair!

You curl up on the toilet seat as you start to cry harder, tears dripping down your face as you try to wipe them away. You want your sippy cup and your comfiest PJs and you want to take a nap after you finish crying. The last place you want to be is school, and the last thing you want to be is a big kid.

Through your tears, you hear the door to the bathroom swing open. Immidiately, you put both hands over your mouth, stifling the sobs that have started hiccupping in your chest. You try to stay still as footsteps come down the stalls towards you, but you can hear yourself sniffling quietly in the silence.

Then the person in the aisle calls your name softly, and you realize that you recognize the voice. It’s Alice, from your math class. She’s one of the Cullens, a family in your town that’s well known for being both wealthy and made up of extremely good-looking people. You’ve shared a few classes with Alice; she’s always drawing in the back of the class, but manages to answer the teacher correctly whenever they call on her. You’ve snuck a peek at some of her doodles: they’re as impressive as everything else that she does.

You’re really not sure why she’s in the bathroom calling for you.

She stops outside your stall door and calls your name again gently.

“Are you in there? It’s alright, I just brought your backpack. I thought you might want it.” Sure enough, she slides it under the door.

You reach for it, hug it to your chest. You don’t know if you can talk right now, but you do your best.

“Thank you. Y’didn’t need to.” Your voice is high and shaky, and Alice’s is smooth and calming.

“It’s no problem. I told the teacher that you hadn’t been feeling well, so he’s not expecting you back in class.”

This kindness has a wave of relief washing over you, and you hear yourself starting to cry in earnest again.

“Oh, no, honey. Don’t cry.” Alice sounds distressed on the other side of the door. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want a hug?”

“A hug’d be nice.” You try to say it like a joke, but you’re crying too much to pass it off.

“If you let me in, I promise I’ll give you the best hug ever,” Alice says.

How could you say no to an offer like that? You unlock the door to the bathroom stall.

Alice is standing outside, with her spiky black hair and today’s odd dress, a black patchwork that makes her look like a little doll. She smiles when she sees you, a relieved expression like she was scared you wouldn’t open the door.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly shy and aware that you’re curled up on a toilet with your arms wrapped around your backpack like a lifeline.

“Hi,” Alice replies, still smiling at you. “Do you want that hug now?”

You nod wordlessly and drop your backpack to hold out your arms. She sweeps forward and picks you up with a strength you didn’t expect from her slight form. You wrap your legs around her waist automatically, and then she’s giving you the best hug of your entire life. There’s nothing except for Alice in the whole entire world: her dark hair, her sweet smell, her strong arms holding you close and safe. You melt against her, and she hums happily as you relax.

“There, honey. You’re okay, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. You don’t need to worry anymore.” The words make you sob into her shoulder, words that are exactly what you needed to hear.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, aware that you’re crying on a girl that you hardly know.

“Shhh, don’t be sorry. I’m here to take care of you.” Alice’s hand brushes through your hair and down your back, firm and soothing. “Don’t worry, honey.”

Your tears start to lighten, and you’re hit all of a sudden with the bone-deep weariness that always comes after crying.  

“Tired.” Your voice sounds distant and hoarse.

“Then sleep,” Alice tells you. “Everything will be fine. You’re safe.”

Her soft voice leaves no room for doubt, and you feel yourself drifting down into sleep as soon as she speaks. The last thing you hear is her voice humming a lullaby you don’t recognize.

--

You wake up slowly to the feeling of someone petting your hair.

“I wasn’t going to leave her,” you hear a voice say. “She needed someone with her, and I saw myself helping.”

“She’s awake now,” another voice replies from further away. “Do you want me to go?”

“It’s alright.” The fingers switch from your hair to run across your cheek, the touch feather-light. “She’ll like you, I can tell.”

You feel cozy and safe and small. There’s a blanket wrapped around you, soft against your cheek, and it keeps you warm even though the fingers of the person holding you are ice cold. You wiggle a little bit as you come to consciousness, humming at the feeling of being held.

“Good morning, little one.” Alice’s voice is familiar and warm. “How are you feeling?”

You manage to make a happy little sound at her, and she laughs.

“You’re so little!” Alice says, but she doesn’t sound mad about it. She tickles the side of your neck and you can’t help but giggle, squirming in your tightly-wrapped blanket. “I knew that sleeping would be good for you.” You can tell from the smile in her voice that she’s proud of herself.

You try to tell Alice that she’s silly, but your words aren’t working right now, and you can only make a little burbling noise at her. She beams down at you, and now that your eyes are open, you can see you’re in the backseat of a car, the top half of your body draped across Alice’s lap and cradled in her arms. You try to sit up to see where you are, but she runs her hands through your hair again and you melt back into her arms.

“Don’t worry,” Alice murmurs. “We’re only a block away from the school, a little off the road. I thought you’d want to be somewhere safe when you woke up.”

Some of the words register, and you smile at Alice contentedly. She’s very nice, and she took care of you all the way here. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so small and safe before. Your brain isn’t working, but that’s okay, because Alice is here to pet your head and that means everything is okay.

“You’re very out of it,” Alice says fondly. “Would you like to meet someone?”

Your eyes go wide. You’re not supposed to meet people when you’re like this, it’s a secret! No one is supposed to know that you can’t think like a big kid sometimes. Alice sees your panic and reacts quickly.

“It’s okay, sweetie, it’s just Jasper. He’s my partner, remember him?” Alice shifts you in her arms easily, lifting you up so that you can see into the front seat. Her hands are strong and steady, but you still start to panic as you see another familiar person in the front seat.

Jasper turns to you and the panic starts to fade, replaced by calm as natural as breathing. He has bright golden eyes, and the light filtering through the clouds is enough to make his long curling hair a mess of shadow and highlights, like an old painter used his smallest brush to pick out the details.

“No worries,” Jasper tells you, and it’s true. Your worry has vanished, as if it was never there. “I just do what Alice tells me,” he adds in a whisper. “And she said to be very nice to you and not to tell anyone else.”

You laugh at him. He sounds silly when he whispers and you like his hair.

“I think that Alice likes you a lot,” Jasper says in that same stage-whisper. “She wouldn’t let go of you.”

“Jasper!” Alice’s arms tighten protectively around you. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I think she wants to adopt you,” Jasper finishes, with a wicked smile at Alice behind you.

“He’s so mean to me,” Alice says, burying her nose in your hair. “I don’t know why I love him.”

You draw an arm free of the blanket and reach out for Jasper, noticing the way his cheeks fold on themselves when he smiles. They look soft, and you want to touch them. However, as soon as you put a hand out, he flinches back from you, retreating into the front seat.

You begin to tear up at the sudden movement. You must have done something wrong, but why did he go away? You reach out for the front of the car with renewed insistence, whining in your throat.

“Oh, honey, no,” Alice says, pulling you back against her softly. “Jasper is shy, that’s all. He likes to talk, but no touch, okay?” She captures your outstretched hand and folds it between her own. Her skin is cool and ungiving, but the touch is gentle.

“Sorry.” Jasper’s voice is hushed, almost too quiet for you to hear.

“It’s okay.” Alice soothes both of you, rubbing your hand between her palms. “You’ll get used to each other.” Her voice turns mischievous, and she bounces you slightly on her lap, making you giggle at the motion. “I can see that you’ll get along very well in the future.”

That makes Jasper laugh as if Alice told a joke, and you can’t help but laugh along because you’re happy. Here in Alice’s arms, you can’t imagine the future being anything but perfect.

[misssophiachase]

For @klarolinefallbingo “Bonfire”

Eyes on Fire

The back to school bonfire will bring together two very unlikely seniors. But maybe these mates have more in common than first thought.  

 Monday

“But our mascot is the timber wolf, it makes perfect sense to design the bonfire that way,” Caroline insisted, hands on hips. He didn’t respond immediately, just curved those annoyingly crimson lips into a knowing smile. 

Ass.

Klaus Mikaelson, a fellow senior and semi-gifted artist (in her opinion), had been seconded by the planning committee to create the bonfire design. If Caroline had her way he’d have no role at all but she was outvoted nine to one. 

Traitors.

Caroline lived to plan school events. Given she’d been doing it since freshman year, they were second nature to her.  The school bonfire was a significant part of the back to school festivities and, given it was their senior year, Caroline knew it had to be her most perfect yet.

But now Klaus Mikaelson, of all people, was invading her territory and, worse than that, challenging her ideas in front of the entire committee.

It also didn’t help that her life-altering summer was still very much playing on her mind either. One minute she was Caroline Forbes, class president and almost senior, and the next she was a seventeen year-old vampire.     

A Mystic Falls resident all her life, Caroline had heard the stories of strange happenings, not to mention the abnormal amount of animal attacks reported. But she found it was best left alone which was why she was so heavily focused on school, well until she transitioned. 

It had taken the entire summer just to control her bloodlust with the help of her friends. But if there was anything Caroline hated, it was losing control and this bonfire was supposed to be her triumphant return to normal life. 

Although, she was starting to wonder what normal actually meant and if it even applied to her life anymore. Meanwhile, this bonfire stealer was not helping matters.   

“Might I suggest a Trojan horse instead?” He flashed a stray dimple and she swore the female committee members all swooned in unison. 

“But what does that symbolise in this context?”

“The ancient Greeks...”

“I don’t need a history lesson,” she growled, thinking her impressive GPA spoke for itself. 

“It signifies rivalry.”

“Oh, you mean the panthers?” One of the committee members offered. 

“Uh, yes,” he said unconvincingly. Caroline fought the urge to roll her eyes. The fact someone so disinterested in football was in charge of design was ridiculous. “The Trojan horse represents something intended to undermine or secretly overthrow an enemy. By burning it we are sending a message to our opponents, the, uh, pirates was it?”

“That’s brilliant!” Another member interrupted and the rest followed suit. Obviously they didn’t care about his lack of experience.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that,” Caroline muttered. 

Before she knew it a vote was held and they’d all dispersed leaving only her and the artist extraordinaire alone. Standing on the far side of the room, hands in jean pockets, he raised his eyebrows in her direction tellingly almost as if to say “well?”

Caroline was trying to process a myriad of emotions. No doubt due to her recent supernatural status, which was hardly unusual, but he seemed to bring something more out of her although she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. 

She was also trying to ignore just how blue his eyes looked in that navy henley and the way his blonde hair curled teasingly over his ears. She shook her head determined to regain some, if not all, semblance of composure. 

“You are insufferable, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Why thank you, love, although not the first time I’ve heard it,” he smirked. “You’re incredibly uptight, has anyone ever told you that?”  

“Why are you doing this?” She asked folded her arms across her chest while purposely avoiding his comment. 

“Doing what exactly?” He asked, making his way toward her slowly. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he smelled but it was becoming increasingly difficult. 

“You don’t even like football and, last time I checked, school activities in general.” 

The Mikaelson family had appeared in Mystic Falls a year earlier. Given the mystery surrounding their arrival and their good looks they’d caused quite the stir in small town Virginia. Caroline had no intention of fawning over Klaus the tortured artist and had kept her distance for the most part.

Until now. 

Before she knew it, his mouth was now only mere inches from hers and she was fast losing all sense and willpower. 

“Who says I don’t have school spirit?” His husky tone was not lost on Caroline. “In fact, I can be very spirited if necessary, love.”

She acted quickly, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him away albeit with shaky hands. Obviously the hardened vampire inside had decided to take an inopportune break. 

“You might have won this round but…”

“Not the war,” he finished, respecting the space between them. Although, she wasn’t sure for how long given the way his eyes were perusing her so intimately. ���How fitting given our Trojan theme.”

“Game on, Mikaelson.” Caroline warned, turning on her heel, desperate to increase the space between them. 

It wasn’t fear.

No. It was something so much more.    

Saturday

High school culture was always so damn predictable.  

Klaus watched on as his bonfire roared to life and the loud cheers from jocks and cheerleaders alike sounded out. Most were wasted and probably didn’t even fully appreciate the effort. 

It was some of his best work and seemed a shame to destroy but he was playing a part. His eyes flickered over to the girl in question. Her denim jacket hugged her chest, the light from the fire only illuminating her blonde waves and creamy skin. 

She’d felt so good the other day and Klaus was surprised he managed to stop himself. He’d been watching her for the past year at school and had only ventured to London on Mikael’s instance over the summer to then find out, too late, she’d transitioned.  

It took all his willpower not to kill those who’d let it happen. He wasn’t against vampirism given he was a hybrid but was against anyone who hurt her. Klaus was also still suspicious that his father had done it on purpose but couldn’t prove it just yet.

So, when he returned, Klaus made it his aim to be with her at all times. Designing the bonfire was the perfect excuse to be close. Even if she didn’t appreciate his ideas. 

“They seem to like it.” He’d found his way toward her in the woods, the stray twigs and autumn leaves crunching underfoot. 

“They’re drunk, they’d cheer for anything, Mikaelson.” Klaus fought the urge to laugh given he’d been thinking the very same thing. 

“You have a point,” he conceded. “But nevertheless I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Team bonding? Wow, next thing I know you’ll be signing up to all extra curricular activities and doing spirit fingers.”

“I’ve seen Bring it On,” he replied and she finally turned to look at him, her dubious expression not lost on him. “It’s Rebekah’s favourite film and she plays it on repeat.”

“Excuses, excuses,” she chanted and he couldn’t miss the small smile that tugged on her lips. “So, are you going to leave now?”

“As organiser of this event I’m committed to staying the course.”

“Liar,” she teased, this time her smile was obvious as much as it was radiant. “You’re only staying for the s'mores.”

“Whatever you say,” he lied, happy to have an excuse to be near her as long as possible. 

Seated on logs side-by-side as the moonlight engulfed them, she taught him silly campfire songs while he told ghost stories that would rival most. The night slowly slipped away and, in the early hours of the morning, the two slipped into a nearby tent too tired to concentrate further. 

It was innocent of course, but Klaus couldn’t deny how good she felt, her back moulded against his chest. He inhaled her scent, trying not to get lost in her but it was proving increasingly difficult. 

He moved away quietly as the light streamed into the tent, determined to get some much needed space. He walked towards the nearby stream, the only sound emanating from the birds. He placed both hands in the cold water and ran them over his face and through his unruly curls.

How had he gotten himself into this mess? He loved her so much and now he didn’t know what to do or how to explain his actions or feelings. 

“You’re my mate, aren’t you?” He heard her voice behind him, the raw emotion and vulnerability he couldn’t miss. 

He turned to face her, thinking how beautiful she looked first thing in the morning, but then he’d think that anyway. He noticed a stray tear in her left eye and immediately felt bad for not coming clean sooner. 

But how do you admit to someone they were your everything, without it seeming entirely awkward? 

“You’ve deceived me.”

“I didn’t,” he finally found his voice. “I was only giving you time before...”

“Says the guy who gatecrashed my planning committee,” she growled. “I don’t appreciate being treated like a fool. But I guess that explains your hesitance to burn a wolf designed bonfire.”

“Maybe” he offered, taking a chance and the small window that had been offered. “But everything I did and said was for your benefit. I love you, Caroline.”

In high school terms that line would be the epitome of desperation. But she was his soulmate and all emotions were now laid bare whether they liked it or not. 

She seemed unmoved but at the same time was clearly considering her options. He had never felt so helpless in his life and the silence was killing him.  

“I’m planning the Halloween dance and fully expect you to help,” she demanded. “And there’s going to be meetings, lots and lots of them. So you better be present and available for anything needed out of hours.”

He stifled a smirk. Who was he to argue with that?

“Yes, ma’am.”

Things seemed to right themselves even if he was her slave. Not that Klaus minded that dynamic at all. She clearly loved him just as much as he did but didn’t mind waiting for it to unfold. 

They were mates after all and had all the time in the world.  

[plumoh]

[NatsuYuu] along the seams of shadows

Rating: G

Word count: 2079

Summary: Natsume Reiko is a pitiful and lonely human.

Note: AO3 link. A look at Reiko through Madara’s eyes.

Madara’s ears twitch when the tree branch starts creaking and the leaves fall down in a whirlwind of irritating pests. He’s two seconds away from threatening whoever is disturbing his nap when laughter reaches him—a plain, boisterous laughter that leans towards mockery instead of pure joy.

“You really are just a cat, Madara!” the voice says, as close to his face as ever. “Napping on a nice patch of grass, under the sunlight?”

Madara cracks one eye open. The sun is still high in the sky and the breeze that ruffles his fur is a pleasant addition, accompanying his solitary nap far away from noisy and ridiculous small fry. But he can never escape the unpredictability of an annoying, weak human.

“If you say another word you will become my afternoon snack,” Madara warns.

The laughter becomes louder, and in the sunlight that makes shadows bigger, pale hair shines brightly while unnatural eyes glimmer with an even more vivid color.

“I’d like to see you try, you big lump of fluff.”

Natsume Reiko smells like mischief, power and loneliness.

***

This forest isn’t big enough to swallow all the rumors that float around. There is no god protecting it and spreading rules to abide by, which means that everyone is free to do as they like, much to Madara’s displeasure. He’s a magnificent beast with strength that rivals that of a god, capable of destroying entire areas of nature and banishing youkais, but people here treat him like he’s the latest entertainment, to be jeered at by everyone and nobody.

He is not a simple creature that lazes around, and he definitely is not a human child’s pet.

“You should have eaten her long ago if you’re so irritated by these rumors,” Hinoe tells him, looking far too too smug for someone who is, without a doubt, clinging the most to that girl.

“It requires too much effort,” Madara growls, flicking his tail impatiently. “Reiko probably doesn’t taste good anyway. I don’t like my prey jumping and running around, it’s exhausting to look at.”

“You are the most boring beast I know.”

Madara rolls his eyes, turning his head away. “That’s a bold accusation when Misuzu is right here.”

“Misuzu is funny, at least. You, on the other hand, are boring.”

Hinoe draws from her pipe and exhales noisily, chuckling when some of the smoke gets into Madara’s eyes. Madara groans and rises on his paws, lifting a cloud of dust and dirt along with him, and a few little plant youkais scamper off deeper into the forest with squeaks. Madara watches them flee for their lives, feeling vindicated.

“I am a respected and intimidating beast, that’s what I am,” he huffs.

“Yeah, a beast that still refuses to play a game with me because he’s scared.”

Hinoe bursts out laughing while Madara tries his hardest not to simply snap and leave. Reiko jumps down from a tree (why is she always climbing trees?) and lands onto Madara’s back, her lips curled into a grin that could have been fueled by the sun’s spite, bold but burning.

Sometimes, Madara finds himself unable to make sense out of this girl appearing and disappearing from his life like a tornado.

“I told you I don’t have time to waste on your ridiculous games,” Madara says.

Reiko tilts her head, never ceasing to be the arrogant and confident person she poses as whenever she makes her words sharp and cutting.

“Hinoe is right, you are boring,” she snickers.

Madara’s tail hits the ground in annoyance, and he shows the barest hint of his teeth.

“Don’t you have human things to do, instead of bothering me during my peaceful rest?”

Reiko shrugs, sliding off Madara. She smooths over her skirt and passes a hand through her hair, as if they’ve never seen her in a dishevelled state or covered in mud after an encounter with rambunctious youkais. She stays silent, her smile frozen, but her eyes are blazing with a quiet, raging fire that sends chills down Madara’s spine. She’s only a young girl, inexperienced and foolish, running around and upsetting the natural order of things in this forest—but behind all this brashness, Madara senses something deeply unsettling.

“Human things aren’t as interesting as coming here and hearing you grouch like an old man,” Reiko answers. “Hinoe, you said you wanted to show me a new curse.”

Madara ignores the way Hinoe coos at Reiko like she is the most precious creature she’s ever seen, and observes. Reiko is someone they shouldn’t mess with, that is for certain; Madara doesn’t quite know yet why he cannot shake off the feeling she’s wrapping them around her finger.

***

Madara being Reiko’s pet becomes more of a joke than a real fact believed by everyone, and ultimately it doesn’t change anything in the way Madara’s strength is perceived. The others make fun of him for letting her live in spite of the influence she has on his image as the greatest beast of the forest, but for the time being he’s one of the very few who didn’t get his name down in the stupid book, so there.

There has been some turmoil and unrest in the neighborhood, lately. A vicious youkai destroying everything standing in its way, threatening small fry for information and leaving behind trails of blood that scare the weakest of them. Madara doesn’t feel particularly concerned about this kind of rampage, which happens a lot more often than people would believe. It’s best to let it pass and not get involved in this youkai’s affairs.

That is what he would have done, were he alone. In times like these, Madara remembers why he chose to live in solitude and not surrounded by other beings who have the survival instincts of insignificant bugs.

“The destroyed trees fall down and block some roads in the forest,” Reiko grumbles, tapping her foot. “People can’t circulate anymore, and cleaning that mess up will take many weeks.”

Madara sighs, glancing at the area of destruction. The claw marks on the trunks indicate that whoever they’re going to go up against might rival Madara in size, while the pace at which the forest is being attacked tells them it’s also nimble on its feet. Not an ideal situation, then.

“Why do you care about that?” Madara asks, turning back his head to look at her. “You don’t like the people of this town, and they don’t wander in the forest as frequently as you do.”

Sometimes, imperceptibly, Madara catches a flicker of pain in Reiko’s eyes at the mere mention of her own desires. It’s not a physical pain, nor is it a pain associated with the events she’s currently dealing with—it comes from within, deep from her soul and emerging in her gaze for one second. She hides it well. She carries this pain everywhere she goes, but she hides it well.

Madara never comments on it. He watches her school the features of her face back into ones she’s crafted over the years, all mischieviousness and no nonsense. Reiko grins and acts like the royal princess she has become in this tiny pocket of otherworldly space she is the only one to trespass into.

“I don’t like seeing people do whatever they want, like they’re owning this place,” she declares, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “The smaller youkais have been pestering me to do something about it. And it’s destroying my napping spots, too. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have your favorite tree cut down either.”

She’s an odd girl and a mystery Madara doesn’t pretend to understand. She’s confidence and contradiction and selfishness all at once, making it impossible to untangle the knots of her emotions—she uses words and rash actions to cover it up, like a nice tapestry concealing the damage done by a kid’s tantrum.

There is kindness in her selfishness, Madara thinks. Reiko obeys no one’s rules, and she makes up her own for her silly games, but her heart isn’t as corrupted as it may seem. And for this lost human shunned by everyone, doing small services unseen by her peers, Madara only feels pity.

He huffs, and takes off to find the troublesome youkai, whose name will end up tied to a piece of paper.

***

“That book of yours is useless if you’re not using its intended purpose.”

“Its intended purpose is to show off and to instill fear in my enemies.”

“You don’t have natural enemies, foolish girl, you’re creating them yourself.”

Reiko tips her head backwards and laughs, a sound carrying over the wind and echoing against the stone walls. She looks at Madara like he’s the one who has said idiotic things.

“It’s preemptive,” she says. “I’ve never felt that powerful before inventing the book.”

“The words that come out of your mouth are incomprehensible to me,” Madara grunts. “Humans are so unnecessarily complicated and confusing.”

“Don’t talk like you know how humans behave. You’ve barely had any contact with them.”

“And this is exactly why I find them annoying.”

Reiko smiles. She has her legs plunged into the cold but clear water of the lake, on this summer day that feels both too hot and too humid. Madara himself is lying down, head pillowed on his front legs and enjoying the slow pace of his day. He warned Reiko that playful and impish youkais would steal her shoes, that she had carelessly thrown in the grass, but she shrugged and didn’t find it particularly upsetting.

How strange, and how perplexing, to encounter someone who doesn’t adhere to any of the world concepts Madara knows. Reiko doesn’t belong to the realm of ordinary humans, and she has no knowledge of the exorcist community; she is an entity dancing on the blurred hinge of these worlds.

“I don’t need to use the power of their names, since I’ll never see them again,” Reiko finally says. “It’s only awkward if I happen to meet one of them and can’t remember who they are.”

“So you admit this book is useless to you,” Madara snorts. “Give it to me, then.”

Reiko scoops up water between her hands, and flicks it at Madara’s eyes. Madara wrinkles his nose and staggers back, glaring at Reiko’s self-satisfied expression.

“You’re a nuisance,” he tells her.

“And you’re not fun,” Reiko replies. “It’s my Book of Friends, so you don’t get to steal it from me. Attaching a name to a face makes it easier to call them friends.”

A pitiful human, truly.

“...They’re not your friends,” Madara says.

Reiko’s shrug feels measured. She gets out of the water, doesn’t bother drying her feet before retrieving her shoes (that are still where she left them) and putting them on. Madara’s eyes follow her movements, choosing to remain where he is.

“Maybe not,” Reiko concedes, her back turned on Madara. “I wouldn’t want to, anyway. But they gave me their names. Names are important, right?”

Natsume Reiko barges into their life without prompting and wrecks havoc on everything they know. She rips away their routine and replaces it with unpredictable events, summoned by her presence alone in these lands. She moves like nothing ties her down anywhere, but she’s restless. The tightness around her shoulders makes her small and fragile, when her entire attitude seems to prove she is none of that.

Madara doesn’t understand her. Her words and her actions are hard to parse, and he’s not sure she understands herself sometimes. She is simply grander than life itself.

“I hope you’ll play a game with me one day, Madara.” Reiko doesn’t fully face him but a small smile pulls up her lips. “You can’t run away from me forever!”

“Hmpf. I’m not interested in these childish games.”

“You’ll change your mind eventually!”

Reiko waves her hand and disappears in the forest, probably heading back to the home of her caretakers. Madara actually doesn’t know if she does live with them—she could have taken up residence in one of the old shrines with how often she visits them, for all he knows.

Madara curls up and closes his eyes. The Book of Friends, she’s called it. Such an innocent name for what is probably the most dangerous weapon against youkais—and it is simply used by a sentimental girl as a personal reassurance she is not alone.

Natsume Reiko already has friends. She just chooses not to see it.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Midnight Meadows (Pt.2)

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

"And he asked me to dance, personally!" Virgil said covering his face.

"Well that's good isnt it?" Remy said, taking a sip from his drink.

"No! He probably has expectations for me now! I can't keep this up for a month!" Virgil said, pulling his hood over his ears.

"Virgil, relax, everything will turn out just fine, you'll do just as well tonight," Janus said, taking a sip from a wine glass labeled with the word 'soup'.

"How am I supposed to relax! Hes a prince," Virgil said, tail still shaking.

"And all this fancy stuff is already getting annoying! The fabric is to itchy and it's barely breathable!" He continued, scratching at his legs again, gods he wished they'd come up with less tight fabrics to use for fancy things.

"Well the super fancy outfits were only for the first day, now as long as you're not wearing like- sweatpants or pajamas or something I'm sure its fine," Remy said, shrugging.

"But if he asks me to dance again I cant just be casual!" Virgil whined.

"You wont be casual, you'll just be confortable," Janus said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe I should just stay home again- it's probably safer if I do," Virgil muttered.

"Oh of course cinderella, I'll be sure to lock you in an attic when he brings over your shoe so the mice have to get you out," Janus said sarcastically.

"Why would he go that far out for me?" Virgil said.

"Oh my gods baby bro have you not looked at the papers? The man is absolutely smitten with you!" Remy exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation.

"What do you mean hes smitten with me! Are we thinking of the same person?" Virgil said, making a grab for the newspaper on the table. He very well couldve checked his phone to find it faster, but of course , he wasnt really thinking at the moment.

And there it was on the front page, Prince Roman and himself, dancing, and next to that the headline "Small-town feline steals prince's heart, exclusive interview inside,". Virgil turned the pages till he found it.

His face turned redder with each word, he'd never received affections such as this before, much less from someone with such high status.

"See, I told you he was smitten, he'd be heartbroken if you didnt show up tonight," Remy said, taking yet another sip from his coffee.

"Alright alright, I get it," Virgil said as he set the paper back down on the table.

"Itll be fun Vi, I promise," Remy said, ruffling Virgil's hair through his hoodie, Virgil hissed and swatted his hand away.

"Ok ok- geez, someones fussy," Remy said with a laugh.

"Shut up-" Virgil snapped.

"Aaaaaaawwwww, baby's upset~" Remy poked Virgil's cheek slightly, snickering.

Virgil spent a few more hours relaxing, tonight's party started a little early than the previous night, so he had to get ready a little sooner.

Tonight's outfit was a short black skirt with a silver studded belt, A black crop hoodie with black and purple striped sleeves, and black boots. The only accessories he had today were a spiked collar, as it turns out, tying ribbons to your ears and tail wasnt all that comfortable.

Once again he'd gone to the ball in a carriage, and once again he still felt undeserving of it. But this went further as he stepped out, his hand was immediately taken by one of the guards.

This is it- I did something illegal- do they still have the death penalty? Am I getting guillotined? Virgil's mind was racing so fast that he hardly registered where he was actually going.

"He's here your highness," the guard said as he let go of Virgil's arm.

"Oh thank goodness- I was worried he was late," Virgil was started back to reality by the sound of Roman's voice, and of Roman's arms around his waist.

"You- what?" Was all Virgil could managed to say.

"I was worried about you! You left in such a hurry last night! I thought you might not show up today, thought I'd have to try knee-high boots on every neko in the country!" Roman said with a laugh.

"Worried? About me?" Virgil said, still confused.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Roman said.

"Well- I uh- but you- but I havent done anything to deserve it! Every other guest brought you gifts and compliments and all I did was run off to the garden and sulk!" Virgil said, slapping a hand over his mouth as soon as he finished the sentence.

"That's exactly why I ran after you! And you gave me something not one single other guest had," Roman continued.

"Which was?" Virgil said, one of his ears tilting to the side.

"You gave me trust," Roman said.

"How the hell did I do that," Virgil said, stunned.

"Every other person I offered my hand to spent the whole of the dance looking at me like they intended to have my money and my head by the end of the night, but when I danced with you all you seemed to want to do was watch me, no talking, no pulling away because you thought it wasnt going well, just dancing," Roman answered.

"Your highness, the ball is beginning," one of the guards said from by the door.

"Well I suppose we should be off then," said Roman, linking his arm with Virgil's and guiding him to the ballroom. Almost immeadietly Virgil wanted to retreat back into his hoodie. It felt like everyone was staring- no- glaring- at him. And he was just standing there, holding the crown prince's hand.

"Dont worry, it'll be alright, they cant hurt you so long as you're with me," Roman whispered, arm now drifting to hold him by the waist.

"But you chose me over them," Virgil said with a quiet whine.

"And they'll just have to deal with shame of knowing they'll never be as radiant as you," Roman whispered, lifting Virgil off the last step and placing him in front of himself. Virgil felt his face flood with color.

Soon enough Virgil seemed to forget all about what was around him, his only focus being Roman.

Until Roman had leave for a moment to handle some, princely stuff.

So Virgil was alone, standing by a punch bowl at a party like he was back in high school getting told he was prom queen only to get silly string dunked all over the dress Janus had made him.

"Well Virgil, I didnt think I'd be seeing you so underdressed on a stage so soon again," Virgil froze as a very familiar voice reached his ears, and a wave of dread washed over him.

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

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