#Get your fucking leaf off my text

[brainless-but-thats-all]

Guys that look like they would obscure my text

Obscuring your text right now. Sorry. Its better this way

[planete777]

BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

[iikatsukii]

When the clock resets.

synopsis: you’re brought back to life, unsure as to why eywa has given you another chance but as you return “home” things aren't quite the same. . 

pairings: sully family x daughter/sister!reader, neteyam x twin!reader, neytiri x daughter! reader, jake x daughter!reader

warnings: um tbh none except minor cursing, running away, passing out, mentions of malnourishment due to you being dead but yk. oh and ao’nung being a mama’s boy.

word count: 6,064

a/n: THIS IS PART 2 OF TOO LATE!!!! unfortunately there is no red text this time but guys i am still not done with this series because i have a request for if the reader survived the first part. but i will be moving back over to illicit love for a little bit because i didn't even expect this story to blow up like i did. like yall i was just sad and here yall are feeding off my trauma. but its okay yall are my little angst hungry babies. :) (also huge fucking shoutout to @eywas-heir for giving me this idea for pt. 2. go give them kisses for me and say i sent you :d)

taglist: @hai-kbai @ssc7514 @sillydog3-4-5 @hyunskz @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @rairaielv @freeauthordeputyartisan-blog @mel119g @ksata @artyom09 @marcswife21 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @andyfromku

(if youre name has a strike through it that means i wasnt able to tag you im so sorry guys i tried)

waking up felt extremely weird. you felt like you had taken the longest, heaviest nap ever. slowly opening your eyes to adjust to the light, you take in your surroundings.

you're in a shallow hole, you noticed as you looked around, and there was dirt around you. you look up at what you would think was the sky and see something else that you remember seeing before. you see the leaf covering that the omatikaya place over their passed-away loved ones. you usually see these leaf coverings from the outside. this caused a slight panic to settle in your chest?

why are you here? did you die? what the hell is going on?

you reached your arm up, still feeling weak from not moving your joints in you don't even know how long. you slowly press against the leaf covering, pushing it away from the hole and exposing the sun to your eyes. you shielded yourself before you felt a shadow standing over your form. it was mo'at. the tsahik of the omatikaya clan.

"tsahik?" it was the first word you said, and it caused mo'at to press a hand to her mouth in shock as tears sprang to her eyes. her granddaughter, who had passed away two years ago, was looking up to her from her grave that she had pushed open herself. the tsahik didn't understand. how could the great mother take you away for two years and let their family mourn and grieve your death just to send you back to them two years later?

this made no sense.

"come with me, my child," was the only thing mo'at said as she reached out to grab your hand. she intertwined your fingers, wanting to hold her granddaughter as close as possible, fearing losing you again. she helped you out of the hole slowly as you still had to get used to moving your arms and legs around again. 

"ma tsahik?" you asked the older woman standing before you. "what happened to me?"

she didn't turn to look at you as she said in a hushed, almost hurt, tone of voice, "you died two years ago," you were left speechless. you didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. you tried to think back on what happened before you woke up from your 'nap,' but you couldn't remember anything. no matter how hard, no memories or thoughts came to your head.

"do not try to work your brain so hard trying to find answers that will come to you, my child. you'll hurt yourself." the tsahik jokes.

you looked up at her, seeing the slight smile on her face but missing the faint trace of tears in her eyes. you let out a small laugh at her joke.

"hey! i may not remember anything from before, but i know i was not stupid before i died." you laughed along, but this caused the tsahik to stop in her tracks, turning to you.

"say that again." she said, grabbing hold of your shoulders, her face painted with worry. 

"i was not dumb before i died?" you said, confused at her sudden actions.

"no, child! the other thing you said."

"oh, that i do not remember anything from before i died?" your words were cautious because you didn't know if what you were saying was offensive. 

"we must get you back to the camps." was all she said as she turned, grabbing your hand, but this time she walked with urgency. her pace was hard to keep up with due to your aching body, but you somehow managed. 

once you started to enter your native territory, you felt eyes everywhere. everyone was looking at you. you get it; you died and came back, but did everyone have to stare at you like that? it wasn't like you were the olo'eyktans daughter before you died. 

mo'at brought you to the center of the high grounds camp, and everyone gathered around to see what announcement their tsahik had for them. 

she didn't have some big speech planned. she just held your hand and said to the clan's people. 

"the great-mother has returned my granddaughter!" everyone was cheering and happy. this confused the sully family. the past two years after your death have been hard. the natives completely annihilated every rda soldier, lab, and scientist in sight. it was an unexpected, coordinated attack between the forest na'vi, the ice na'vi, and, surprisingly, even the ash na'vi. due to transportation, the water na'vi couldn't make it to fight the war, but they were able to send over some of their finest healers. 

let's just say no ships are coming to pandora ever again. jake made sure to send a message to the humans back on earth that if they ever sent one of their own to his planet again, he would single-handedly rip them each limb from limb. that was a promise, not a threat. humans had not gotten a chance to respond to jake's words. right after he delivered his messages, he pulled the pin of a grenade and walked out of the ship, it and the rest of the camp's base exploding behind them. although they didn't get to respond, they sure did receive the message, and earth now no longer had an avatar program. as the na'vi walked away from the war, they were victorious once and for all. 

neytiri was quietly braiding her youngest daughter's hair when she heard the cheers and celebration of the clan outside her home. and then that's when her three older children came running into their hut, screaming and crying, speaking simultaneously. it sounded as if they were speaking gibberish. 

"hey, hey kids calm down. what is going on?" jake asked his children, who looked like they were in distress. he was sitting in the home's living area, sharpening his blade as he had nothing else to do. 

"Y/N HAS RETURNED." it was kiri who got the words out first. 

neytiri, jake, and tuk all froze. there was no way. the great mother had taken you right in front of their eyes. you have been gone for two years; it can't be. neytiri had visited your grave just last night. there you lay, closed-eyed and lifeless in front of her, but as she walked out of her home and into the center of the clan's gathering there, you stood. you looked skinny and malnourished, but you were standing, breathing, alive. 

neytiri couldn't believe her eyes. she thought she was dreaming as she approached you slowly. she held your face in her hands, and as soon as she felt your skin against her own, she broke down in tears, engulfing you in the tightest hug you had ever felt. 

"ow." you said when she squeezed a bit too hard. this caused the woman to release you quickly, as she had forgotten how fragile you were right now. 

"ma ite, you have returned to me, oh great mother, you have answered my prayers. thank you, thank you, thank you," she said as she pulled you into a hug again, this time softer, as if she was afraid that if she held you too rough, you would break in her arms. 

you, on the other hand, were nervous. granddaughter? ite? what is going on right now? there's no way you're the tsahik's granddaughter. you couldn't imagine what your mother would be like as a person, let alone any of your family. all you knew was that you were from the forest, but maybe eywa brought you back to the wrong part of the forest? you couldn't even look at the woman before you and pinpoint a resemblance. you had four fingers; some of her children had five, and you weren't like them. only one other child had four tingers, and you noticed it was the eldest son. 

when you made eye contact with him, his eyes softened. neteyam hadn't looked into his twin's eyes in ages. he missed you like no other. yeah, neytiri had it hard losing her first daughter, but neteyam had his twin's life ripped from her body right in front of his eyes. at that moment, it was almost like he felt the bullets go through his chest as well. that's how great the pain of losing you felt. but looking at you now, he felt like his heart was whole again. but there was this look in your eye. you looked different. not physically. you looked at neteyam differently. almost like you didn't recognize him.

mo'at had hoped that seeing your home and your family would cause your memories to come flooding back, but the look on your face was not giving her that impression. 

"i am sorry if i am ruining a happy moment…." you spoke up, causing everyone to immediately silence themselves so they wouldn't miss a word you said. but you didn't say anything that caused any happiness or joy in anyone. instead, your words scared everyone.

"–but i do not know who you guys are. i am not the tsahik's granddaughter and miss, i am not your daughter. i am sorry but i think you have things confused. please excuse me." you pulled yourself away from the woman who claimed to be your mother, but she tightened her grip on your hands.

"ma y/n, what do you mean? you do not remember me? i am your mother, your sa'nu. you are ma ite, my sweet girl." neytiri was taken aback. this isn't right, you're supposed to come back, and then everything goes back to normal. but the great mother has returned you with no memories at all. to you, neytiri was just a stranger claiming to be your mother.  

the next person to approach you was the olo'eyktan himself. you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes because of how his vast form intimidated you.

"itetsyip. maybe if you come home and see some of your things then you'll remember." he said, placing his hand on your back and walking you in the direction of what you assumed was their home. you quickly remove yourself from the two adults who had you in their arms. 

"i am sorry but i am not your daughter. i do not want to enter your home to look at whatever things you think are mine. just because i have no memory of my family does not mean you get to take me away from them. the great mother may have returned me to my body with no memories but that does not mean you get to put whatever you want in my head, trying to get me to believe you. i only just returned. do you not understand how overwhelming this is?" you were scared. everything was happening so fast. 

you just found out that you had been dead for two years, and now these people are trying to push this life in you that you know god and well that wasn't yours. you don't know who these people are, and they were making absurd accusations. maybe you really were in the wrong part of the forest.

"y/n stop joking around. do you not remember us? you are neteyam's twin sister for crying out loud. how can you be cruel enough to pull a joke like this? have we not suffered enough?" lo'ak was fed up with this whole situation. you were his sister, dammit. how could you not remember that? neteyam is your twin. you, tuk, and kiri were sisters. they're standing right in front of you, just begging you to run into their arms so they can embrace you.

you looked at the teenage boy oddly. like he had three heads. he doesn't know what he's talking about. these people are so pushy and demanding; you can't come from a family like this. you thought about it, and you knew they would be able to catch you if you tried to make a break for it, but you didn't want to be here anymore. 

lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the family's eldest son walking up to you. he gently grabbed your shoulders, looking directly into your eyes that were identical to his. 

"you could not have forgotten about your twin brother have you, sister?" his words were soft. they sounded broken like he was hurting inside. from what? you don't know, but this isn't your problem to deal with. these people obviously lost somebody, but it is not you. you are not from here. so you hatched a plan in your head. 

"maybe i just need to walk around the forest and re-familiarize myself. it–" you choked on your words, not even wanting to say it.

"it could help me regain my memories. and then we can be a family again, yeah?" you look into the boy's eyes, noticing them shining a bit brighter. you gave him hope. 

that wasn't your intention. you just wanted to leave, so to make yourself 100x more believable, you hugged him. with all the strength you had in your body, which wasn't much. 

everyone was shocked. even neteyam, but he didn't want to lose this moment, so he hugged you back tight, so you could feel his love but not too tight because of how weak you are. you pulled back from the hug, bowing slightly to everyone before you walked in the direction that you and the tsahik came from so you wouldn't seem lost. you looked back before you could fully disappear into the trees. eyes meeting those of the people who claimed to be your family. looking at them, you didn't even see where you would fit in. they already looked whole. so you managed a small fake smile, sent them a small wave, and continued your trek through the forest, trying to get as far away from the omatikaya people as possible.

by the time they realize you're gone, you'll already be way too far for them to find you. you wandered around, wondering why the great-mother returned you like this? did you not deserve to keep your memories?

almost as if she heard your question, the great mother flashed an image in your head. it was different shades of forest green, with indigo spots placed randomly around its body, looking almost like flowers. its wings were majestic, but you couldn't pinpoint what you had seen until it landed right in front of you, keeping you from walking off a cliff you hadn't even realized you were walking towards. 

you couldn't believe that after two years of being gone, your ikran, syulang, was still alive. you named her syulang because, yes, of course, she looks like she's covered in flowers, but unlike other ikrans, syu was quiet, elegant, almost undetectable in the air. you would never hear her flying anywhere, and nobody knew why. the air would run smoothly over her wings, completely muting the sound of the wind rushing by in comparison to the usual loud, noisy ikrans that everyone else had tamed. syulang was delicate, like a flower.  "syu! hi girl, oh my goodness you’re alive." you said as you created your tsaheylu with her for the first time in years. it felt like the first time all over again, except without the part where she tried to kill you. syulang was happy to see you as well, nuzzling into you. "syulang, we have to go. right now. come on girl, take me home." when you said this, syulang made a noise of confusion but allowed you to mount her anyways. the two of you took off into the night, the eclipse making it too dark for anyone to notice that an ikran was out flying. not like they would hear syulang anyways.

it's been hours. you still hadn't come back from the forest, and the sullys were getting worried. everyone was tense and stressed until kiri spoke up. 

"she ran away," the teenage girl hadn't even realized it was herself who had spoken. she looked up and made eye contact with everyone in her family, repeating herself.

"she ran away, and she is not going to come back." tears sprung to her eyes as she just wanted her sister to return home. it was like eywa was dangling the most precious thing to them right in their faces, and every time they reached out, she snatched it away. 

"she would not do that. she said she was just going on a walk. kiri have some faith in her. sure she did not remember us but she would not have hugged me if she was just gonna run away. she said she would come home." neteyam argued. he didn't want to believe that you had left them again, but that's what it was starting to seem like. 

"we will check the ikrans. if hers is still there, then she's around here somewhere. we can go out and look for her." syulang had not left your family's ikran nest since the day you had passed. she was too depressed to do anything with her hunter being dead. the sullys made sure to take care of her for you, knowing you wouldn't want syu to suffer like you did. honestly, syulang was the closest thing the sullys had to you after you died. they'd take turns taking care of her at night, bringing tuk every now and then so she could see syulang too. 

the walk to the family ikran nest was full of arguing. kiri said that neteyam and lo'ak had to come to their senses and realize that you were gone again. the boys refused to believe that you would leave again, but as they approached the ikran nest, seeing syulang's corner abandoned gave them the answer they fought over. 

you had left.

"i told you she left. i mean for eywa's sake you guys bombarded her as soon as she got here!" kiri yelled at her family. she knew this was just displaced anger and that she didn't really mean it, but she was tired of holding her tongue. 

"don’t you dare say we bombarded her! she is my twin who died in front of me! eywa forgive me for wanting to hug her after she's been dead for two years!" neteyam yelled back at kiri; this just caused a huge family argument to break out.

tuk, who was standing to the side watching her family fall apart, couldn't help but cry. she just wanted her family to go back to normal. "stop fighting…" it came out as a whisper, her family arguing so loud that they hadn't even heard her. so she decided to make them hear her.

"STOP FIGHTING!!" everyones' heads snapped at the youngest sully child. little tuk had just raised her voice at them for the first time ever.

"give me a break! we are all hurt okay?! us, y/n, grandma, the clan? everyone is sad! we did bombard her! she has not been here for two years. we should have let her settle in first. i get it. you guys miss her. so do i, but ma sa'nu when you talked to her she looked so confused and scared. and nete, when she was hugging you her eyes were so empty. she looked so lost. we scared her away. we had a chance to make things normal again, to be a family again and all you guys could do was be selfish and think about yourselves!! i just miss her. i want her to come back, i–" tuk couldn't even finish what she was saying as her sobs overcame her. neytiri scooped up her youngest daughter, cradling her in her arms, trying to soothe her harsh cries.

tuk had just lectured their entire family, and nobody could be mad at her because she was right. neytiri realized that she had been pushy. jake and lo'ak, too, but it wasn't because they were trying to scare you. they just missed you so much they couldn't contain themselves. they had been selfish, putting their feelings over yours once again. it was the same way they lost you last time, and now, who knows where you went or when you left. the family just remained in their ikrans nest that night, needing all the warmth they could get as they all just held each other and cried.

you didn't think you could fly any longer. it had already been a few days, and you didn't see the forest anymore. you already didn't have a lot of energy due to you being dead for two years, but it didn't help that you left with absolutely no supplies to survive on your own. everything was starting to look the same. you felt like you were going in circles, seeing the same islands over and over. the ocean water was beautiful, you had to admit, but right now, all you could think about was if it would cushion your fall if you fell off your ikran. you knew it was only moments before you passed out from exhaustion.

the world started to spin as if it wasn't already, your vision was in and out, and you felt sleepy. you were exhausted and couldn't fly another second. as your body completely shut down, you fell off your ikran and into the waters below you, your tsaheylu disconnecting in the process.

had it not been for the hunters out at three brothers rock, you would have died. they noticed your ikran flying in the direction of their mainland, assuming you were a visitor and that they would meet you when they got back to the island, but they knew something was wrong when they noticed your form plummeting from the extreme height, completely motionless. 

they only took a few minutes to have you on the rock. they were nervous about doing cpr on you because you looked to be a teenager.

"ao'nung, come over here!" the hunter in charge called over the olo'eyktans son.

"what is it?" he said, noticing the tension in the air. he looked down, seeing you unconscious on the ground. his eyes widened. where had you come from? pushing that question aside, ao'nung took in your appearance, noticing how thin and weak you looked. he didn't know what it was, but it stirred something in him. you reminded him of his little sister, tsireya. if this was her, he would want one of the hunters to save her, so he put one arm under your shoulders and another under your leg and slid into the water, calling out to his ilu. 

"i'm bringing her to my mother immediately. she looks weak. i don't even know if she'll live, but i have to try." he said before taking off as fast as he could to the mainland. he noticed above him your ikran was flying at the same pace as him, probably too worried to leave your side.

when ao'nung got home holding an unconscious forest na'vi, he received a lot of weird glances from the clan's people, but he didn't care. he rushed home, looking for his mother.

pushing the flap open to see his mother had just put the last of her herbs away, ao'nung called out to his mom. 

"sa'nu! help! i– she needs help. please." hearing her son in distress, ronal was quick to give him her attention. instructing to lay the girl on the floor, she reminded herself to ask him where he had found her, but right now, she prioritized saving your life. she tried a healing remedy that would've usually worked, but you remained motionless. ronal put her ear to your chest, your heart was beating, but it was very faint. she knew only one thing she could do now, and it was the riskiest healing remedy known by all tsahiks. it has a minimal success rate but has healed some of the deadliest injuries known to eywa.  

once the remedy was made entirely, ronal told ao'nung to get out and find his father and sister before coming back. the boy nodded, walking out to find his sister. 

when he spotted tsireya riding on the ilus with her friends, he called her over. tsireya noticed her brother looked a bit more anxious than usual, so she excused herself and walked over. 

"brother what is wro– oh!" ao'nung pulled his little sister into the tightest hug he could muster. she remained shocked as her brother wasn't really one for physical affection at all unless it was from his mother. 

"please just– don't die on me, okay? at least not anytime soon. promise me, okay?" he said, pulling back and grabbing her shoulders as he looked into his sister's eyes. she just nodded and walked alongside her brother, wondering what on earth had him shaken up like this. 

upon retrieving his father, ao'nung returned with his father and his sister in tow. when they entered the tent, you were in ronal's arms, crying your heart out. the woman just looked up to her family, shushing them as she continued to provide you comfort. hearing your cries throughout their home hurt their hearts. you cried like you were hurt like you had experienced grave pain, and it was coming back to haunt you. 

from this moment on, the family decided they would take you in. they didn't know who or where you were from, but they wanted to heal you of this pain. their hearts hurt hearing how much pain your heart had to endure. there's a reason why eywa brought you to them, and they were not about to let you go.

you had been living amongst the metkayina clan for about half a year now. you weren't even recognizable from when you had arrived at the clan. when you got here, you were thin as a twig, you never had the energy to do anything, and you cried yourself to sleep every night. now, you had filled out your form, even gaining a bit of muscle from adapting to the metkayina ways. you had also completed your iknimaya, which meant you were allowed to get a tattoo. you choose to get two. the pain was well worth it, though, because once your leg sleeve and arm tattoo were complete, you couldn't have been happier. 

you finally felt like your life was worth living again. you no longer cried yourself to sleep; instead, you snuck out with your brother and sister, going to the small island where all the young na'vi hang out. you were finally happy. the great mother had brought you home. she had returned you to your family. 

the only odd thing was your dreams recently. you dreamed of the forest, of nantangs, woodsprites, and ikrans. things that have nothing to do with the metkayina. it was weird. you felt like eywa was trying to shove memories in your brain, but you were so at peace with your life that you disregarded it, too caught up, in reality, to be bothered by silly dreams. 

you loved life on the beaches, in the sand, underwater, just taking in the beauty of awat'alu as you sat on a rock. at the same time, you watched ao'nung, tsireya, and rotxo playing on their ilus in the water. they were splashing each other, just taking time to be the teenagers they knew they'll never be again. you were about to cannonball in the water to join them when you all heard the horns of the clan being blown, announcing new arrivals. 

you all stopped what you were doing, looking toward the screeches you heard. you knew that sound, that was bob, jake's ikran.

wait a minute… what?

whos jake?

‘jake sully’ said a voice in your head. you recognized it as she had spoken to you once before, but you couldn't remember where. 

why is this name coming to your head right now? you felt your wrist being grabbed by your sister, tsireya. she dragged you to the beaches of your clan's home, where everyone else had gathered. you stood behind your father, tonowari, as you continued to think about the name that came to your head. who is jake sully, and why did you just remember his name? 

"my children, ao'nung, tsireya, and–" tonowari paused, looking to his side at his children, realizing one was missing, until he turned around and realized you were just hiding behind him. 

"–and my youngest, y/n, will teach your children the ways of our home, so you do not suffer the burden of being useless here," tonowari stepped aside, pushing you in front of him, so the family who had arrived could see you. 

you looked up to make eye contact with the first person you spotted.

"tuktuk." the words were quiet from your mouth. the little girl, who had her head tucked into her mother's neck, perked up when she heard the nickname you used to call her.

"kiri, cut it out. that is not funny!" tuk said, looking at her sister, offended she would play a sick joke on her like that after they had just left their home. 

jake and neytiri decided to move their family from the omatikaya clan, deciding that being there reminded them too much of you. it hurt to continue to live on the soil that you died on. so they up and moved their whole family elsewhere, flying towards warmer air and gorgeous waters. they fully expected to be able to find uturu with jake being toruk makto and their war being over. what they hadn't expected to see was their dead runaway daughter standing amongst a sea of teal na'vi.

slowly walking towards the family, tonowari called out to you, but ronal placed her hand on her mate's chest, telling him to shut up and watch what was happening.

"tuktuk," you repeated as you walked towards the girl. when tuk realized that the voice was coming from in front of her and not behind her, she turned her head around, her yellow eyes meeting yours. 

"y/n!!" tuk practically dropped herself from her moms' arms, running up to you. 

you met her halfway, falling to your knees, pulling your little sister into a hug, her face in your neck as you supported her head. as you looked at each one of them, their names, faces, and memories came back. you remembered everything. 

"and you're neteyam, and lo'ak and kiri!" when your siblings heard you say their names, it was like a switch in them flipped. within seconds they were all in the sand hugging you and tuk, crying because you finally remembered them. 

you pulled back from the hug, looking at the two people who hadn't joined the hug yet. 

"sempu," you said, reaching your hand out to jake. he didn't even try to conceal his tears as he allowed himself to join his children in their hug. 

your mother still stood there in awe. neytiri was scared. she was the reason you left last time and didn't want to scare you away again, so she just stood with tears rolling down her face, not knowing what to do. for the first time in her life, neytiri didn't know what to do. 

you could see the hesitation in her eyes. but you were confused as to why. neytiri was the only one who treated you right before you died… so why is she the last to come to you.

"mom?" you called out to her, but she didn't move. did she not want you anymore? has she gotten used to the family without you? 

you tried once more, refusing to lose your family again. "sa'nu, please." a tear rolled down your cheek, looking into your mother's eyes. you saw all the hurt and stress, everything she had to endure while you were gone. 

hearing you call her sa'nu was the last push neytiri needed before she fell to her knees and joined her family's embrace. you have returned. you returned to your family, and you were safe. everyone pulled back from you, taking in your appearance. you had matured a lot since the last time they saw you. you and neteyam were about the same height now, but your muscles surpassed his due to all the swimming you do. 

you noticed that he had noticed too, and you just nudged his shoulder with your own, "do not worry, twin, i will teach you everything you will need to know. maybe you will grow up to be big and strong like me," you teased your twin. neteyam rolled his eyes, laughing along with you. 

"woah! y/n, you have a tattoo?" lo'ak asked as he looked at your left leg. you just laughed at his silly question. of course, that's the first thing he asks you. 

"she has two! there's one on this arm as well," kiri said, holding out your right arm so they could see the tattoo that you had there as well. 

"no fair, mom, i want a tattoo." tuk said, whining to her mother. neytiri laughed at her daughter's statement and just pet her head, moving her braids out her face. "maybe when you're older, tuk," she said.

"babygirl," your father grabbed your attention. "i just want you to know that we are all so sorry for how we treated you before you past–" you cut your father off, shaking your head. 

"it is in the past. the great mother may have returned my memories but it is me who gets to choose which ones to remember. i want to leave the past behind me. i have found a new home here. new peace. a found family who loves me dearly. i don't want you guys to feel like you have to atone to anything. eywa has given us a new start, so i think we should welcome it with open arms instead of trying to mend that has already been healed," you really had matured in your time away from the sullys. 

they all looked at one another. if that was what you wanted, they would be sure to leave the past in the past so they can embrace the chance to make things right with you. 

you stood, the rest of the sullys following. you walked back over to tonowari and ronal, pulling them into a hug. 

"just because my memories have returned does not mean that you are not my family anymore. you have all helped and healed me from wounds that i did not know i had so i can only thank you, sempu, sa'nu. you guys are my found family and i would not trade you for the world." smiling up at your other parents. Wow, this is gonna get confusing, but you were more than excited to have two families. 

you looked over and pulled ao'nung and tsireya into the hug as well. "you guys, too, thank you so much," you said to your siblings. they couldn't do anything but hug you back. you may not be their biological blood, but they could care less. you are now one of their people. ronal and tonowari will always see you as their daughter, and ao'nung and tsireya will always see you as their sister. you will always be family to them. 

you and tsireya decided to guide the sully family to their new home, as ronal had allowed them to stay. you noticed that lo'ak was eying your sister up quite a bit and decided that you would tease him about it later. you were just happy to finally feel at peace. you finally had the family, the life you had dreamed of. 

you couldn't do anything except thank eywa for all the good she brought into your life. 

‘you're welcome, my child.’ it was the same voice that you heard earlier. when you realized that she was responding to your thanks, if you finally clicked whose voice you were hearing. 

it was eywa.

she was with you. she had always been. throughout this journey, she made sure to stick by your side. that was something that you couldn't be more grateful for. 

‘be free my child, allow nothing from here on out to hold you back. you are meant to live a happy life, and now you are able to do so.’

[that-one-banger-of-a-rhcp-song]

A Rodrick x reader where they're friends with benefits and aren't aware of each others feelings towards the other util reader gets asked out by someone from their school :]

i started this one earlier and then the draft got deleted (this is why you dont take grilled cheese brakes kids) Thank you so much for the request, i have never written fwb before so i hope i meet your expectations :) (p.s. im a sucker for hand/knuckle kisses and it shows) lets just say greg and rowley weren't there for the party.

"Dammit Rodrick," you chuckled slightly, sitting on a desk.

"What?" The raven haired boy started, "Don't like doing this anymore?" His hot breath tickled against your neck.

"It's not that," you muttered, "I just, don't feel like making out in an empty classroom five minutes before lunch ends."

"Oh, 'cause you are so above that," he retorted, going back to his assault on your neck and jawline.

"I'm turning over a new leaf!" You leaned back slightly, humming.

"Proud of yourself?" his hand relocated to your waist, the other supporting his weight.

"I would say I'm more proud of you,"

"Oh?"

"You haven't gotten a detention in two days!" at that, the boy laughed, and removed his head from the crook of your neck.

'God I love you!' he wanted to say, but you seemed content with your current status, and he got to make out with you whenever he wanted... so he was fine! Totally.

"Has that Micha kid been bothering you?" The so called 'Micha kid' had been trying to hit on you for months, and you were to nice to tell him you secretly hated him, but you were working on it (thanks to Rodrick)

"Kind of? He tries to talk to me a lot, but he's less persistent."

"Good" he smiled, patting your waist before kissing you again.

You pulled away after a moment, "We should probably get our stuff," you commented, pulling him out of his blissful state.

"uh, yeah!" god he was so awkward sometimes. He held out his hand for you to take, (which you did) and you slid off the desk.

"You're such a gentleman!" you mocked in a brittish accent

"Oh, I know, love," he carried on.

-----------

'party at my house -rodrick' The text had been sent four minutes ago on the dot. Your parents were out of town, so you could go without being caught. So you fucking did. You put on a white button-down, black skinny jeans that were torn to shreds, and You put your earbuds in and started walking the block to the Heffley household. Your mind shifted to your previous interaction. How concerned Rodrick was being, he did care about you. and some times it felt like he loved you. you felt as if you could only dream.

---

You knocked on the door, the music was so loud already.

"Y/NNNN!" Rodrick dragged your name out, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles, "You do know this is casual, right?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Get in here!" he pulled you in the house, there were lights, MCR's 'na na na" was blasting at full volume, and there were high-schoolers making out in random corners, someone had started a fistfight, and it seemed like it was more Rodrick's element than yours, but that was ok. And then you saw him.

Micha.

The boy who looked at you like a Piece of meat.

you grabbed Rodrick's sleeve, "Micha's here," You said desperately. He noted your concern, and looked around for the boy, "Hey," he said, grasping your arms, "It's gonna be fine! if he starts bothering you, just come find me and we can make out or some shit!" He looked you in the eyes and smiled, trying his hardest to reasure you.

"Thanks Rodrick," you said hugging him.

"Of course!"

-------

Rodrick had decided to be social, so you just wandered around the house, looking at the people you knew, and those you didn't. When you heard that terribly familiar voice.

"Hey y/n!"

Well fuck. you turned around, and sent a glare that could kill toward the boy.

"How's the party?" Micha said.

The sound of his voice made you want to yell. "Good." you said, not looking at him.

"I haven't talked to you in a while,"

"I know." you kept your answers short and half assed. Hoping he would get the memo.

He didn't.

Lucky for you, Rodrick had pardoned himself from his buddies chit chat, to make sure you were alright.

An arm looped around your shoulders, "Hi," the boy said "Uh, Micheal, was it?"

"Micha."

"Oh, sorry meesha,"

"That isn't even close to my name."

"Cool" you were never really religious, but you took the time to thank god for Rodrick. "Now, Mickey, can you not tell that you're making y/n uncomfortable?"

"I figured they would tell me if-"

"Micha, I don't like you." you said, voice laced with anger, "I never fucking have."

The boy just looked at you sadly and nodded before walking away.

"Rodrick, thank-" you were cut off by a rather agressive and passionate kiss.

"Y/n I love you. It's okay if you don't love me back but seeing you that uncomfortable made me want to tell you."

you could only stand there shocked. "I- Rodrick I" you stuttered, "I love you too. I always have and I really want to thank you for keeping me close!"

Just hearing those words made his heart melt and his confidence boost dramatically.

"I know this is my party, but" He tried, "Wanna blow this place?"

[impala-dreamer]

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW. 

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean, 

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh? 

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think! 

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above. 

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation. 

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well. 

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset. 

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that. 

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting. 

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21 

Y/N- 

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need. 

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know. 

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long. 

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green. 

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just- 

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on. 

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway. 

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest. 

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon. 

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands. 

Did you blush? 

You did. 

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S.  I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July 

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester, 

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog. 

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time. 

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi. 

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me. 

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice. 

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA! 

Miss you. 

Sincerely yours, 

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that. 

August 2

Dear Y/N- 

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note. 

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass. 

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them. 

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh? 

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff. 

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up. 

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard? 

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box. 

Dean  x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday. 

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue. 

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and - 

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life. 

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you. 

~ Y/N 

Dear Dean, 

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up. 

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester. 

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please. 

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please? 

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map. 

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry. 

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it. 

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it. 

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother. 

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N. 

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N, 

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t. 

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out. 

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when. 

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean, 

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish. 

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand? 

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me. 

I love you, Dean. Always. 

Y/N

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[hockeybabe]

Playoff Love|| A. Svechnikov

Gif not mine

Pairings: Andrei Svechnikov x gf!reader

Summary: after the canes win their first round game you decide to show your boyfriend how much you love him.

Warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, swearing, praise kink Andrei, dirty talk, fluffy ending and starting, and my Google translate.

Word count: 1.1k

Note: I love Andrei so much and I just had to do it for the canes. AND THE LEAFS MADE SECOND ROUND!!!

When your boyfriend clinched the playoffs, you couldn’t be more excited for him and the team. Andrei had a tendency to get really horny every time you wore his jersey, and for the playoffs, he made it his mission to win game five for you. But today was the sixth game, and the Canes were already leading the series 3-2.

The game didn’t start till later, and you couldn’t wait to watch your boyfriend. "Malyshka, I have to go." Andrei says, with his bag of hockey stuff and his suit on. Getting off the bed, you walk up to him. "Well, I’ll be watching every second, and if you win, I’ll show you how much I love you." You say in a teasing tone.

"Don’t try something you know you can’t win." He warns you, grabbing your chin and tilting you up to look at him. You smile at him brightly. "I think it’ll be a win-win if you win. If not only one of us will suffer." You say, moving your eyes down to Andrei’s bulge growing in his pants.

"Fuck Malyshka, you're pushing my limits." Andrei groans in his heavy accent. He kisses you deeply before saying goodbye. You had high hopes for the game for Andrei’s sake, but either way, he was going to fuck you up all night. You still had two hours to spare, so you decided to clean up the apartment you and Andrei live in and pick out your outfit.

Looking through your lingerie drawer, you find a red and black lace pattern one-piece. It drew your attention immediately as it represented the colour of the canes. Placing the piece on your bed, you grab some simple black tights and Andrei’s jersey. When you leave your closet, you grab the clothes and put them on.

You couldn’t deny that you knew what you were doing. The moment you started to flirt with Andrei and tease him, you had a feeling it would end with you on the bed, coming for hours, win or lose. Either way, it had you really excited. Putting on the last piece of clothing, you grab your phone, keys, and wallet, putting them all into your purse. 

You got to the game right before it started. You took your seat right behind the glass of the Canes' net. If the canes won, they’d move on to the second round, and you had a good feeling. As the game went on, it got to the end, and they did it 2-1! Sebastian Aho and Paul Stastny had scored, allowing us to win.

You texted Andrei that his winning prize was at home waiting for him, giving you all the time to strip, leaving you in your lingerie lying on your bed resting on your elbows while arching your back. "Malyshka!" Andrei called out; you could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer.

"Y/n," he says quietly, peeking his head through the barely opened door. Andrei’s eyes widen as he sees you on the bed, feeling his dick strain in his pants. "Wow, this is… fuck Malyshka." He says, flabbergasted. "Big wins equal big surprises." You tell him, biting the bottom of your lip. 

Andrei unbuttons his dress shirt, revealing his abs. He crawls over your body on the bed with his face inches from yours. "Only bad girls wear skimpy lingerie. Are you a bad girl?" He taunts, trailing a finger around the patterns of the material. "I’m a good girl, I promise. I did it for you." You said, pouting your lip ever so slightly. 

"How can I say no to that?" Andrei captures your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth as he pushes your hips into the mattress. Andrei trails his lips from your lips to your neck and right under your ear. "I bet if I put my hand in between your legs, they’d be soaked because that’s what good girls are. Soaked." He growls, nipping at your ear.

"Andrei." You whine, rocking your hips upwards to create some sort of friction. "How much do you like this piece?" He asks, turning you over so you are on top. Too focused on getting yourself off, you try to wiggle your hips out of his grasp. "Answer me, Malyshka." He demands. "It doesn’t mean anything." You shudder as Andrei finally allows you to grind against him.

"Good girl." He praises ripping the lace from the back. You gasp as you feel the cool breeze run over your back, causing goosebumps. Andrei peels off the top half of your piece. "Up." Andrei taps under your thigh as you lift your hips, giving Andrei the opportunity to tear off the rest of your lingerie.

"You have way too many clothes on." You say, reconnecting your lips, taking off his dress shirt, and unbuckling his belt. Andrei leans against the bed frame, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to his cock. You moan, parting your lips. "You had a good time today?" He asks, rolling you over on your back. "The best." You say smiling. Andrei places teasing kisses down your stomach, using his free hand to play with your tits.

"That’s what I like to hear." Andrei says, running his fingers up and down your slick folds, spreading your wetness. You moan, scratching the back of his head. "That’s it, Malyshka; let me hear you." You moan in response as Andrei adds a digit to your pussy. He pumps in and out at a fast pace while his thumb works on your clit.

"You like that dirty girl." Andrei taunts, adding a second digit, pumping even faster. "That’s it, come on my fingers." He orders. You gasp, clenching around his thick fingers. Andrei’s head moves down your body, placing peppered kisses here and there before going to your pussy and licking you clean. The heels of your feet dig into Andrei’s back as your hands pull at his hair.

Your head falls back as a loud moan escapes you. "Andrei, please," you beg as he continues to give you long strokes with his tongue. "You taste divine Malyshka." Andrei says with a cheeky grin. "Fuck Andrei, I'm going to-" Before you could finish, your second orgasm rolled through, causing your body to go limp.

"Look at you, being such a good girl, coming for me. It’s a good thing we won." Andrei says coming back up to face you, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks. "You’re lucky; I love you." You say to him. "And you’re lucky, I love you, because you should have about two more rounds to make up for my four wins." He says picking you up and taking you to the shower. 

You laugh all the way there because, like you said, "you had a feeling it would end with you on the bed, coming for hours, win or lose." And it was the biggest win of your life. 

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

See Me, I See You (m, cold)

I present unto you all: a fic that has nothing to do with the fic I promised weeks ago!!! (sorry) I got some GREAT prompts from that prompt list in my inbox and I used a bunch of them in this fic (mostly anons, but @sniction-fiction and @sneezycold19 both of your prompts are featured in this).

Greyson gets a cold, Elijah catches it...that's pretty much it! No real plot just colds and vibes. Oh, and there's a little bit of ~angst~ thrown in because it's me. I hope you guys enjoy it <3

cw: male, colds, contagion, fevers. 3k-ish words under the cut. Let me know what y'all think!

See Me, I See You

Greyson shifted from foot to foot in the cold of the alleyway, willing Elijah to text him back. He read the text over again for the third time, hoping it sounded nonchalant enough to avoid his boss’s wrath.

heyyy, are you on your way in?

It was already ten in the morning; normally, Elijah was already at the restaurant by now. Normally, his boss wasn’t given the chance to be aware of Greyson’s chronic key-losing issue.

Three minutes passed. His fingers were starting to tingle. Did you leave your gloves wherever you left your fuckin’ keys, moron? Four minutes. Five. C’mon, Elijah, I’m getting desperate.

Finally, at the six minute mark, a text from his boss popped up. I was planning on taking today off. Why, do you need something?

“Fuck,” Greyson muttered, pulling a frozen hand down his face. Of all days, why was today the one Elijah decided to take off?

There was, Greyson decided after a few more freezing minutes pacing the alleyway, nothing to do but tell the truth. Bracing himself for the explosion, Greyson typed out a message. uhhh...kinda. I may or may not have misplaced my keys…

By some sort of stroke of either insanely terrible timing or the worst luck known to man, the minute Greyson pressed the arrow to send his message, a second text from Elijah came through. Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me, Greyson thought, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach as he read the text from his boss.

I caught your fckn cold, so if you need something can it wait til tomorrow?

***

On Saturday, Greyson couldn’t stop sneezing.

“Hh-! HhIGSTHH-ue! HTSHH!” For the third time in an hour, Greyson wrenched into his elbow, away from the prep table. He groaned, annoyed – prepping this tasting menu for twenty was going to take ten times longer than normal if he couldn’t get this shit under control.

“Bless, bless,” Elijah said, distractedly leafing through the inventory papers on his clipboard. “Coming down with something?”

Greyson cleared his throat, pawed at his nose. Shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s Saturday. Not like I could leave if I wanted to.” The chef washed his hands in the sink near their office, sniffling. He trudged back to his prep, checked his watch – ten thirty AM. Matt was scheduled for noon, and Greyson could already taste the cigarette he was going to savor when his sous took over this prep.

“Mmm, snippy,” Elijah said, scribbling something on the inventory sheets. “Must be a pretty bad one.”

“The fuck are you on about?” Greyson asked, sinking his knife back into the yellowtail he was slicing. He sucked in through his nose, again, again, again to keep from contaminating the fish – on the third sniff, he ducked under the table to protect his product. “HGSTHHZUE! Fuck.”

“That cold,” Elijah said, finally looking up from his paperwork. “It must be pretty bad if you’re in such a shit mood.” Greyson’s face colored. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, flipped his boss the bird. Elijah just shrugged.

“Do you want a coffee? Or a tea, or something?” he asked, pushing himself out of his chair and approaching the chef. Greyson had gone back to thinly slicing the hamachi; he didn’t answer. “Hellooo, earth to Grey -”

“HTSHH! Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!” Greyson turned toward Elijah, sneezing into his elbow once more to avoid the fish. Elijah jumped out of the way just in time.

“Christ, warn a guy, won’t you?” he said, checking his outfit for signs of spray. Greyson cleared his throat, put his knife back on the prep table, and slunk to the office in search of a tissue.

“Get outta the splash zone if you don’t want to get wet,” he muttered, blowing his nose and tossing the tissue. “Ndo, I don’t want any coffee or tea. I just want to get this shit done so I can have a cigarette.” The chef washed his hands again, and took his place at the prep table once more. At this point, this won’t be done until next fuckin’ week, he thought, exhausted.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Elijah asked, leaning on the prep table. Greyson deadpanned his boss, hoping the knife in his hand made him look at least a little threatening.

“Do I think what is a good idea?”

“A cigarette.”

“I always think a cigarette is a good idea. Don’t you?”

Elijah shrugged again, eyes trained on the knife Greyson slid through the fish. “I mean, usually. When I’m not sick as hell, absolutely.” The two of them caught eyes then, a challenge. Their stares stayed locked until Greyson was forced to turn away to cough. Elijah made a noise in the back of his throat, a mix between a laugh and a coo of pity.

“Don’t fuckin’ patronize me,” Greyson growled, his voice sticky and rough already. The backs of his eyes burned, his throat felt swollen, and his joints were aching; he wasn’t ready to admit it, but Elijah’s perception was correct. He felt like shit.

“I’m not patronizing you, Chef,” Elijah promised, pulling something out of his back pocket. “C’mon. Take a break.” He waved the pack of cigarettes he’d produced in front of Greyson’s face, motioned toward the back door. “I’ll let you bum one.”

Greyson, too tired to continue the fight, just nodded. “Alright,” he said, untying his apron. “Thangks.”

Elijah took in a deep breath, ready to say something, but instead just sighed. “Don’t mention it.”

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Greyson thought as he re-read his boss’s text. If Greyson knew one thing about Elijah, it was this: he’d have to be down bad to take an unscheduled day off of work. And for him to admit to illness, unprompted? The man must have been on his death bed.

Quick as he could, Greyson began typing out a response.

ah, fuck, sorry boss. don’t worry about it, I’ll text matt. sorry to bother you, hope youre ok.

Greyson sent the text, only to be filled with dread all over again when Elijah answered back immediately.

I thought Matt and Mark were doing that off property event in rochester today?

Fucking shit, Greyson thought pressing his head to the freezing cold of the back kitchen door. His mind, mocking, flashed him back to last night; Matt and Mark packing up the company van with food for a Christmas dinner one of their regulars was hosting at his mansion in the country. Greyson had waved them goodbye, told Matt to call him if he had any questions on the dishes they’d decided he’d make. In his panic, Greyson must have blacked it out.

oh, he typed to his boss. yeah, I guess they are. no worries, im sure my keys are in my apartment ill just run back and grab them.

His apartment, both of them knew, was a forty minute train ride from the restaurant. Cooks would begin showing up in forty-five minutes. The pit in Greyson’s stomach grew larger still when the bubbles that signaled Elijah typing popped up and went away, popped up and went away.

Finally, the text they both knew was coming but ate Greyson alive even so: I can stop by and let you in. give me 20 minutes.

***

By Sunday, Greyson was fairly sure he was dying.

First, he was freezing; when he came in at the ass-crack of dawn that morning to prepare for Sunday brunch, Elijah had barely been able to stifle a laugh.

“Um,” his boss said, raising an eyebrow, “what are you, uh… wearing?”

Greyson flashed Elijah a watery glare before his eyes glazed over and he pitched forward into the scarf the was wrapped tightly around his neck. “Hh...hhIGTSZH-ue! ETSCHH-ue! Huh -! hh...hhNGSTHH-ue!” He sniffled and wiped his nose on the wool of the scarf before addressing his boss.

“A scarf,” he said, his voice a low monotone. “I’mb cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly, taking the chef in. His hood was pulled over his long, shaggy, unwashed blond waves; his eyes were red-rimmed, dark-circled, and wet with irritation; the bow under his nose was damp and scarlet from wiping, and none of this was to mention the scarf-turned-tissue that had clearly seen better days. “I think… I think you should go home, Chef,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

Greyson didn’t answer; instead, he turned away to cough into the germ-infested scarf. After a few moments of coughing, her turned back and shook his head. “Brunch,” he rasped, attempting to clear his throat.

“Let’s call Matt in,” Elijah said.

“He’s workigg dinner,” Greyson insisted. Elijah pressed his fingers into his eyes, let out a long sigh.

“I think one day of working double shifts isn’t going to kill him,” Elijah said, giving Greyson a pointed look.

“I’mb ndot making my employees work a double shift whend I’m ndot,” Greyson said. “That’s ndot how I operate.”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, his temper beginning to flare, “you sound absolutely fucking awful. And you can barely stand. How do you plan on prepping and executing brunch when you’re swaying on your feet, hmm?”

There was a silence that stood between them then. It ballooned, filling the kitchen, begging one of them to break it. Finally, Greyson’s body took over; he shuddered, dipped back into his scarf and turned away from Elijah.

“Hh-ETSCHH-ue! HUTSHH-ue! Huh...Hh! Hh...hnnn.” Greyson glanced blearily at the cold fluorescent lights in the kitchen, trying to coax the last sneeze out. “Huh-! hnn...hh, huhhh…”

“For God’s sake, Greyson,” Elijah said, allowing the frustration to seep into his voice. “Would you just fucking snee -”

“HRRRTSHHH-ue!” The last one tore out of the chef, left him dazed and panting, turned into a flurry of wet coughs. Elijah winced, but took a few steps forward and placed a hand on Greyson’s forehead. Greyson didn’t have it in him to stop his boss.

“Wow,” Elijah said, raising his eyebrows as he gently pulled his hand away from Greyson’s head. “That’s some fever you’re sporting, kid.”

Greyson felt his eyes begin to water; he bit the inside of his cheek, looked away, and took in as deep a breath as he could without making himself cough again.

“Mbaybe… maybe we could call Mbatt in for brunch just this once.”

***

The twenty minute wait was excruciating.

To keep warm, and to distract himself, Greyson paced from one side of the alleyway to the other, trying to remember whether he’d noticed signs of Elijah getting sick the evening before. His boss was fairly talented at keeping illnesses under wraps in the beginning stages, but was there really a way he’d gone from fine enough to keep it under wraps to so ill he needed the day off in twelve hours? Greyson thought back to the end of last week, when he’d been hit head-on with the cold from hell his boss was now gifted with; it had moved quickly, sure, but definitely not that quickly.

Elijah had certainly been quiet last night, but that tended to be par for the course when they were busy. It had been extra busy, especially for a Tuesday, so Greyson hadn’t really seen much of Elijah. Guilt coursed through his body, and he pulled out his phone once again to text Matt and Mark in a group chat.

hey, guys. hope you’re ready for your event tonight, can’t wait to hear about it. random question for both of u: did elijah seem alright to you both last night?

The wait for a text back wasn’t long; the two younger managers were clearly bored. With several hours to go until their dinner and everything pre-prepped, they were most likely just hanging out on their phones in the spare bedroom they were staying in.

are you serious? Matt’s text came through first. Then, a moment after, one from Mark.

I mean...if by ‘alright’ you mean pissed off and sick then ya I guess lmao.

Greyson’s heartbeat thumped in his ears. He typed back quickly, pointedly. he was sick last night?

chef, u really had the blinders on big time last night lol, Matt texted back.

Which makes sense, it was busy! Mark’s text said, an attempt to cushion the blow. But ya he was for sure coming down with something. Is he ok today?

Before he could type out a response, Elijah’s car turned into the alleyway. Greyson put his phone away and waved, guilty. Time to face the music.

***

Monday, thankfully, was like a salve to Sunday’s burn.

“Morning, Chef,” Elijah said, joining Greyson in their shared office. Greyson pulled out one of his headphones to return the greeting, smiled at his boss.

“Mborning,” he said, his voice still cracked and congested.

“How’re you feeling?” Elijah asked, cutting straight to the chase. Greyson rolled his eyes, shrugged. Smiled a bit.

“Better,” he said, sheepishly. “Much better. Thangks for holding down the fort yesterday, I really owe you one.”

Elijah laughed as he clicked his mouse to wake his computer. “Chef, it’s technically my fort. It’s my job to hold it down.”

“Still.”

The GM nudged his friend, playful. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Glad you’re feeling better. I was worried you weren’t going to make it through the night.”

Greyson barked out a laugh that turned into a soupy-sounding cough. “You’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” he said. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Mmm,” Elijah murmured. “That’s what we’re classifying as ‘not that bad’ now? That’s wild. Don’t show me ‘bad’, okay? I don’t think my little heart can handle it.”

Greyson flipped Elijah off at that, and turned back to his computer. The two of them sat, working silently except for the occasional riff or cough from Greyson, until it was time to get ready for service.

All was well. At least, that’s what Greyson thought.

***

“HhhNGSTH-uh! HTSHH-uhn! Hh...hhRTTSHH-oo!”

Ah, fuck, Greyson thought as he watched Elijah slip out of his car. I’m an ass.

***

On Tuesday, there were a myriad of clues Greyson didn’t notice.

He didn’t notice the Elijah slunk into the kitchen an hour later than he normally did; unheard of for him. The chef had been busy prepping when his boss made his way to their office and sunk into his chair, fingers pressed into his aching eye sockets.

“Morning, boss,” Mark said, stopping into the office. Elijah looked up, bleary, and Mark’s face shifted into one of concern. “You alright?”

“Greyson’s fuckin’ cold,” he muttered, coughing hard into his elbow. “It’s a fuckin’ bear.”

Mark put an easy hand on his boss’s forehead, his face knotted with anxiety. “Take anything?” he asked. Elijah shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “But I will. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t notice when Elijah ducked out back to have a drawn-out fit of sneezing; Greyson was inside, lecturing Matt and Mark on exactly how to put together the dinner they were going to be doing in Rochester the next day when his boss pushed outside into the cold of the alley. Elijah had managed to collect himself just as Greyson followed him out the back kitchen doors.

“Christ,” Greyson said shaking his head and sitting down on a milk crate next to his boss. “Sometimes, man. This job is like running a fuckin’ daycare.”

Elijah nodded, unsure of how his voice would sound if he spoke. They sat in silence for a few moments, until Greyson produced a pack of cigarettes.

“Bum one?” he asked Elijah, shaking two from the pack. “I owe you.”

“Sure,” Elijah said, his voice cracking on the single syllable. Greyson lit them both up, didn’t mention his boss’s voice. He took a long drag while Elijah ducked into his elbow.

“NTSH! GTSH! HTSH!” Elijah stifled a volley of sneezes into his shirt, sat up near-gasping. He turned toward Greyson, stared at his friend, waiting – what for, he wasn’t entirely sure. Pity? Sympathy? Acknowledgment?

Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t get it. Greyson stubbed out his cigarette and stood without a word. “See you back in there, boss,” he said.

The un-smoked cigarette hung from Elijah’s fingers, burning bright in his hand. He sneezed once, uncovered, creating a cloud of condensation in front of his face. He stubbed the cigarette out, choked back a cough, and headed back inside.

Greyson didn’t even notice when, at nine PM, Elijah parked himself in their closed-off private dining room and laid his head down on the stripped table, cool marble on his overheated face.

“Lij? Boss?” Elijah heard the voice come in before he could sit himself upright. He turned blearily towards the door and saw Matt standing in the doorway, his face painted with concern.

“Shit, Lij, you look like fuckin’ hell,” Matt said, sitting next to Elijah. “I mean, Mark said you weren’t well but Jesus Christ.”

“’m okay,” Elijah shrugged, and turned away from Matt. “Huh! HhIGSTZH-oo! ITSHZH-uh!” He hitched in preparation of another sneeze, sighed when it escaped him.

“Bless you,” Matt said. “I came in to tell you that Greyson wanted your input on a dish he’s working on in the back, but I’ll tell him to fuck off. You need to go home.”

Wanted input on a dish. Elijah would have snorted if he was sure it wouldn’t have ended in a disaster of a mess; of course he wanted his input. The man was in the fucking clouds, apparently; too high to realize he’d left his best friend sunk in the muck that was this nightmare of a headcold.

“That would be great, Mbatt,” Elijah said, attempting a smile. “Thangk you.”

Greyson didn’t even notice, Elijah knew without knowing, that his boss had left without saying goodnight.

***

“Elijah, fuck, dude I’m so sorry for dragging you out here.”

The GM just shrugged, clearly too tired and ill to make a quip. He ran the sleeve of his NYU sweatshirt under his running nose and moved slowly towards the back door. The keys shook in his hand; it took what felt like an eon to open it.

Finally, the door swung open. “You’re in,” Elijah said, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you thingk you cand handle tondight on your own?”

“Yeah, of course, boss, but… shit. Lij, I’m so sorry dude. I can’t believe I didn’t notice you were sick, I mean -”

Elijah held up a hand to stop the chef’s babbling. “Grey,” he rasped, “it’s okay. We’ll call it you getti’g even at mbe for ndever ndoticing you were sick when you first started.”

“That was six years ago. You had an excuse, you didn’t even know me; I know you, I know when you’re sick, I feel like such an ass. I’ve been wracking my brain, pacing around back here trying to figure out how I didn’t realize -”

“HTSHH-oo! ETSCHHH-uh!” Elijah cut the chef off again, folded in half, his face in his sleeve. He sucked in through his nose, stood slowly.

“Bless,” Greyson said, guiltily.

“Thangks,” Elijah said. “And it’s okay. Ndo one is infallible.” He shivered, rubbed his arms with his hands. Greyson held the door open.

“Obviously if you don’t want to stay you don’t have to,” he said, “but… if you want to hang for a bit, I can make you some tea? Or soup? Make it up to you for coming out here because of my stupidity?”

Elijah attempted a scoff that ended in a cough. “Greyson. It’s really okay.”

“I feel badly,” Greyson admitted. They stood locked in that old game of chicken yet again. This time, it was Elijah that broke the spell.

“HRRRSHH-uhh! Goddamn,” he muttered, shaking his head. He looked up at Greyson, forgiveness written on his pallid face. “Mbe too,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “This cold is a fuckin’ mbonster.”

Greyson laughed, an almost-hysterical sound that made palpable his relief at being forgiven. “Oh, Lij,” he said, closing the door behind them, “no one knows that better than me.”

[violetbranwen]

Moving On - Dave York x F!Reader Chapter 8 of The Princess and The Duke.

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. 

Specific Warnings: Mentions of dick, mentions of sex toys, so much yearning, angst, step-cest, Mentions of poor parent-child relationship, parents touching sex toys without consent, mentions of childhood trauma(forgotten birthdays), food mention.

Big shout out to Hemmy (@angelofsmalldeath-codeine for writing this with me!)

Follow @vi-notifs for updates!

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[Read on AO3]

Wordcount: 7.2k

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you returned home from the disaster of a dinner with your mother. You’re still not fully over the semi-public dredging of the traumatic childhood that you’d endured. You’re reclined on Ash’s sofa; you caress her head in your lap as you watch reruns of Buffy when a text notification comes through. Your stomach flutters with excitement when you see who it’s from.

Duke🎷: Hey, Nancy will be out for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. She should be gone long enough for you to get all your things.

“Hey, Ash?” You ask as you look up from your phone to see Sarah Michelle Gellar stake someone.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“Are you free tomorrow afternoon to move some stuff out from my room at Dave’s?”

“I can free up my calendar, no problem. Nancy going to be there?” Ash asks as she tilts her head back to look up at you.

“Nah, Dave’s said she’s out for a few hours.”

“Shame. Would have liked to give the bitch a piece of my mind,” Ash grins at you and you stick your tongue out at her.

“Very funny,” you playfully scold her, “Alright I’ll confirm it with Dave.”

You pull your phone back up.

Princess🌙: Sure, you going to be there?

Dave types for a while before the message comes through.

Duke🎷: Only if you want me to be.

Princess🌙: We could use the extra pair of hands. How early can we get there?

You want to tell him that you do want him there, that you want to see him. But you refrain, knowing better than to say something so bold. It doesn’t stop you from thinking it.

Duke🎷: 1pm if that’s ok with you? I’ll be there.

Princess🌙 : Perfect, see you then.

Your gaze lingers, hoping – maybe foolishly – that he’s going to send another message, keep the conversation going. You’re about to lock your phone and turn your attention back to the TV when you see the little grey dots shuddering to indicate Dave typing. You bite your lip in anticipation, and you don’t miss the way Ash rolls her eyes at you before grinning.

Duke🎷: You got everything you need for the new place?

Princess🌙: Sort of? I’m taking the bed from my room at yours, if that’s ok. Otherwise, it’s pretty sparse, I’ll have to make a trip to that big furniture mall up near Tech Ridge.Duke🎷: Of course, it’s yours. If you need anything else, just let me know.

Princess🌙: Sure, thanks, Dave. See you tomorrow!

Duke 🎷: Anytime, see you then.

“Jesus! You’re like a fucking teenager,” Ash scolds you playfully as she nudges your knee with her fist.

“Fuck you,” you grumble as you ruffle her hair, heat creeping up your neck as you know you can’t deny it.

You set your phone down with a smile, feeling the anticipation bubble up in your chest as you try to focus on the TV. But it’s no use, you can’t stop thinking about Dave, you haven’t been able to since the diner last night.

~*~

Monday

Dave smirks to himself as he watches Nancy on the right screen of his work computer. She’s leafing through the photos Resnik had dropped off an hour ago. Dave has a set of copies up on the left computer screen as he sips his morning coffee.

He hates seeing photos of himself, especially when he looks so flustered. He needs to work on his cardio. Most of his recent hits have been more complex cloak and dagger affairs. Smaller margins for error. Cardio has been the last thing on his mind, and the only working out he’s been doing has been for his mental health. Weight training is a far more satisfying outlet than jogging around the block aimlessly.

His discomfort is quickly dispelled as he watches Nancy swipe the photos off the kitchen counter. The sound is muted but it’s clear she’s screaming bloody murder into the empty home. There’s a poisoning thread of guilt surrounding the scene, he never wanted to see Nancy in pain. But the memory of the dinner party burns any pity away as she tirades around the space where she had humiliated you only days before.

Dave picks up his phone and texts Resnik to commend him on a job well done when he sees a text from you. He opens it immediately, turning off the remote feed of your mother wallowing in her self-pity.

Princess🌙: Hey, you still ok for today?

Duke🎷: Of course, all good on your end?

Princess🌙: Yeah, just checking in, thank you again for this.  

Duke🎷: Again, you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do.

Princess🌙: Ok, well, see you at 1.

Duke🎷: See you then.

Dave watches as you start typing again, stopping for a few moments before starting up. It makes his stomach twist, like he’s waiting for something to happen. But you stop typing for good this time and he lets out a heavy breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

He loves that you’re talking again, even if it’s just about the logistics of moving your things out. It makes him check his phone at lightning speed at every news alert or email. Every time hoping it’s you, he doesn’t even know what you’d be texting about, other than the move. He knows that he’s kidding himself, you’ll soon be out of his life for good. Starting out on your own, finding someone more suitable, with less baggage.

But he lets himself live in the fantasy of it all for now.  he takes peace in knowing you’re safe and that you’ll soon be free of your mother and her bullshit.

~*~

You’re restless as you pull up to Dave’s house. You’ve caught Ash stealing glances at you the whole drive, but she hasn’t said anything. You’re nervous, something about returning to the house has you on edge. But there’s excitement there too, you’re going to see Dave.

Ever since you reconnected in the diner on Saturday, you’ve been consumed with thoughts of him. When he held you, it was like being home. He makes you feel safe and peaceful.

“We’re here,” Ash says as you shake yourself from your thoughts, “Did you order that truck?”

“What truck?” You look up and your mouth falls slack as you see the white box truck with two men in blue overalls hauling the king-sized mattress into the back of the truck. The logo of a local removal company visible on the side of the vehicle.

“Not me, Dave must’ve called them,” you say as you get out of the car. You look up at the house to see Dave waiting on the porch for you. He’s leaning against the railing, his hand raised in a casual greeting as he nods to you.

“He’s down so bad for you,” Ash teases as she rounds the car, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she waves enthusiastically at Dave.

“Shut up,” you grumble as you nudge her side.

“Hey, Dave,” Ash shouts as she picks up the pace, practically jogging past you.

“Ashleigh,” he nods as he holds out a hand to shake, but Ash bats it away with her hand before throwing her arms around him.

Dave catches her with ease, despite her practically jumping at him. He steadies her before putting distance between them, holding her at arm’s length. You can’t help but smile at the sight as he shoots you a questioning look. You simply shrug, you have no clue what has gotten into her.

“You’re making your way into the good books, York,” Ash says as she squeezes his forearms. You watch as she says something under her breath to him before letting him go and barging into the house.

“What was that all about?” You ask as you reach the top step, trying not to show how nervous you are as you resist every urge to throw your arms around him like Ash just did. But you know that there’s no way you can risk such a PDA with the threat of the PI looming over you.

“She was grilling me about the truck,” Dave says as he looks you over, “How’re you doing?”

“I really appreciate you doing that,” you nod absently, “Things have been better,” you admit with a noncommittal grunt, “It’s good to see you though.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your eyes go wide as you try and think of a way to walk them back. But Dave beats you to it.

“It’s good to see you too,” his voice is low as he gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “And I figured you’d struggle getting a whole king-size bed into that tiny thing.”

Dave gestures over your shoulder at the car and you wince at your lack of foresight. You turn back to see that the warmth has returned to his smile as he teases you gently. An echo of a time where things were simpler, easier.  

“We should probably head in,” you say as you look over your shoulder again, paranoia prickles under your skin. It’s become something of a habit since you found out about the Private Investigator. Even in the safety of Ash’s place, you feel like you’re being watched.

“Good idea,” Dave gestures for you to go in with one hand as he waves in the removal guys with the other, “I got them to pack up the bed and desk, as well as your PC and some other bulkier pieces of furniture,” he explains as he follows you into the house.

“That’s good of you, thank you so much,” you say over your shoulder as you ascend the stairs.

“I put your prop box under a throw in the living room, I’ll get it for you before you leave,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Didn’t want the movers nosing around in there.”

Your chest constricts with affection at his thoughtfulness, and you nod in affirmation.

“Thank you,” you repeat and the soft huff of amusement from Dave makes your skin tingle.

“You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“I know, but you’re doing all this for me,” you say with a shrug as you hear Ash bustling around your old bedroom, “I just really appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Dave says as he hesitates at the bedroom door.

“What?”

“So, Ash,” he gestures to the door, “How much does she know?”

“Everything,” you say as you cringe back, expecting anger or aggression. But Dave simply nods, as if confirming his own suspicions.

“Ok, good to know,” he says as he places his palm flat on the door, “Shall we?”

You nod and he pushes the door fully open for you. You smile as Ash finishes assembling a cardboard box with a frustrated grunt. There’s a stack of flat-pack ones to her side. She exhales aggressively, blowing stray blonde hairs from her face as she looks at you both.

“About time, these things are a nightmare to put up.”

An hour goes by as the three of you pack up the rest of your belongings, all the while you and Dave share glances and smiles. With the last few boxes being packed up Ash picks up the first of them to take downstairs. You look around to see the surprising number of boxes piled up around you. You’re even more grateful for the box truck now you can see the sheer size of the move.

“Right, I’m going to start piling these downstairs for the movers to load up,” Ash says with a dramatic clap of her hands, “Besides, you two clearly need a moment alone.”

She gives you a knowing look as you see Dave shift uncomfortably as he seals up a box labelled “pillows”. You flip her the bird as she leaves, grinning at you over her shoulder as she kicks the door closed. The sound of Dave putting down the tape dispenser is loud in your ears before the room falls silent.

“She’s subtle,” Dave says as he turns to look at you, flopping down on the floor next to the box, “I like her.”

“That’s Ash for you,” you shrug as you mirror him, settling down on the floor as you realize standing around and packing up your whole life is quite strenuous. The room feels too big and far too small all at once. The echo of your voices is eerie as the air is so suddenly thick with tension.  

“How do I have so many pillows it requires a whole box?” You ask rhetorically as you try and fill the silence. You look anywhere but Dave’s face as you feel the desire to touch him build. You just want to bury yourself in his arms and never leave. You’re closer to him than you realized, only a few feet away. It feels like too far and not far enough all at once.

“You’d be surprised,” Dave says softly, “I think I filled three boxes with just records when I moved out of Carol’s place.”

“Records are cool, Dave,” you roll your eyes as you meet his gaze, but the moment you do you feel like you can’t breathe. Whatever you were going to say falls dead on your lips as you see the way he’s looking at you.

His eyes are glassy, his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched, almost as if he’s in pain. But you know that look, it’s the look he gave you when you fell apart in his arms. It’s the look of restraint, holding himself back from crossing a line. Your fingers twitch as you start to reach for his hand, the temptation too heavy to resist. Just one touch, that’s all you need. Dave leans forward, his hand reaching for yours when the bedroom door swings open. You snatch your hand back and scramble to your feet.

“Alright,” Ash’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade, “They’ve got almost everything else packed up, let’s get this room-,”

She freezes as she looks between Dave and you, clearly unprepared for the intensity of the moment she interrupted.

“Do you two need a minute? Because I can go back out there and-,”

“No,” Dave says abruptly as he gathers himself up off the floor, “I’m going to check that the movers have everything ready to go, I’ll see you both down there.”

Dave grabs the box he was packing before he exits swiftly. He doesn’t look back as he shuts the door behind him. You let out a shaky exhale as tears spring to your eyes. You wipe them away before Ash reaches you, but she holds you just the same. Her arms wrap around you, firm and strong as you let her hold you.

“I expected to walk in on the two of you dry humping on the floor,” she chuckles low in your ear, “Not caught in whatever that was.”

You shake your head and bury yourself in her shoulder.

“I love him, Ash,” you mutter as you cling to her.

“Poor bastard,” she jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, “But seriously, he’s nothing like anyone that came before, I like him for you.”

“Yeah?” You pull back as you sniffle, wiping the back of your sleeve over your lip, “Why’s that?”

Ash raises an eyebrow at you incredulously, as if you had to ask.

“He’s clearly into you for more than just sex, or a kink, or some twisted stepdad thing,” Ash says as if she’s telling you the sky is blue, “We do need to talk about how he knew where you were on your birthday, maybe not now,  cus that was weird and a bit stalker-y.”

“Not today,” you groan, and Ash puts her hands up defensively.

“I know, but that aside, he’s been looking out for you from the moment you landed back in Texas. The night with that douchebag Tristan, your birthday, Saturday night with your mom. No offense babe, but no pussy is worth all that effort. Especially when you’ve not fucked for what? Weeks? Months?”

“Too long,” you say as you can’t help but smile at Ash’s crass humour.

“Exactly,” Ash says with a triumphant smile, “I like him for you, he’d be good for you.”

“Y’know, that unfortunate stepdad thing aside,” you retort, and Ash shakes her head as she smiles at you.

“We could just kill her you know?”

“Ashleigh Mae!” You say with a dramatic gasp as you smirk at her.

“Just saying,” She holds her hands up in mock surrender, “I know a guy.”

“Whatever,” you say as you turn to the last few boxes needing to be filled, “Let’s get the rest of this shit packed up.”

“Yes, boss,” Ash gives you a mock salute before grabbing another box. You shake your head and gather the last few belongings into a final moving box labelled “Misc.”.

There’s a distinct lack of emotion as you head down to the kitchen, you thought moving out would have made you feel something. You set the box down and head into the living room where Dave is staring out of the window.

“Hey,” you say softly, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh, hey, you all ready to go?” He turns to you with a distant look on his face.

“Yeah, just getting that last box,” you say, gesturing to the grey fleece throw covering the box on the sofa. You recognize it as the one from Dave’s sofa downstairs.

“Of course,” he nods and folds his arms over his chest, his eyes dropping to his feet, “There’s something else I want to run by you.”

“Oh?” You look up from the covered box of props to meet his gaze.

“I’ve got a storage unit full of stuff Nancy wouldn’t let me have in the house,” he brings a hand up to rub his jaw, a nervous habit of his, “I was thinking seeing as you said you didn’t have much to furnish the new place, you could take a look and pick some stuff out? Consider it a late birthday gift.”

“Dave, you’ve already done so much for me, I don’t know if I could accept that,” you say as your heart aches at how much he’s willing to do for you.

“It’s all just sat there gathering dust, it’s a shame for it to go to waste when it could get some use.”

You mull it over for a moment, worst case scenario it’s a bunch of junk that you might get nothing from. Best case, you might not need to traipse up to the Furniture Mall on the weekend.

“Alright, I’ll take a look,” you smile as you pick up the box of props, “I’m keeping the throw, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Of course, wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll give the movers the details for the storage unit. I will text you the codes to enter/let me write down the codes” Dave nods as his smile reaches his eyes. You’re about to head out to the car when you remember one last thing you meant to ask.

“I know you’ve already done so much for me-,”

“I was thinking-,” Dave speaks at the same time as you and you both stop talking the moment you realise you’re cutting the other off. You can’t help but laugh as you wait for the other to start talking again.

“You go,” you say, eager to hear what Dave has to say.

“I hope this isn’t overstepping,” he starts again as he props his hands on his waist, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, “But I wanted you to know that, should you want it, I have someone I trust to install security measures on your new place. Would you be interested in something like that? I’ve just noticed how on edge you are, and with a PI sniffing around it seems like a good idea to deter any unwanted visitors.”

You feel your cheeks ache from how hard you’re smiling as Dave beat you to your own point.

“So, I was about to ask you for advice on who to call about that,” you admit, and you watch as relief washes over Dave’s face, “Because yeah, between the PI, and the prospect of living alone in a big city like Austin, I could use the extra peace of mind.”

“I’ll give him your number to get in touch and I’ll let him know to put it on my card.”

“Dave, you don’t have to-,”

“I couldn’t keep you safe in my own home, please, consider it me making it up to you.”

You consider it for a moment, a small voice in the back of your mind warns you about all the spending. But none of this is frivolous, it’s practical and a means to keep you safe. Most importantly, none of it feels transactional, he’s not doing this to buy you back. He’s protecting you.

“Ok,” you nod, convincing yourself as much as Dave, “Give him my number so we can set up the installation.”

“Excellent,” Dave says, and you stand there for a moment before realizing that this is it, there’s nothing left to say. You’ve got nothing more to stall with, you have to leave.

“Well, I guess this is it then,” you shuffle your feet nervously, “Can you get the truck to follow us to the storage place?”

“I’ll call them as soon as you leave.”

“Sure,” you say as you drum your fingers on the side of the box before you make yourself move, heading towards the door with regret and longing weighing down your movements. You get to the front door and put the box down, you can see Ash on the phone as she waves at you, “Hey, Dave?”

You step back from the door and turn to look at Dave again. His brow is raised in a silent question and your body moves before you can stop yourself. You take two long strides back into the house and wrap your arms around him. You bury your face in his t-shirt, hand fisting into the material covering his back as you breathe him in.

“Thank you.”

You breathe into his chest as you feel his broad arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly against him as he places a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. Another stolen moment, a risk you shouldn’t be taking.

“It’s ok, I got you.”

Dave whispers before giving you one last squeeze. His hold loosens and you don’t linger in his embrace, you know you’ve already pushed the limits. You step back with bleary eyes as you smile up at him before wiping away the tears.

“I’ll see you around,” you choke out before scooping up the box on the floor and practically jogging down the porch steps. You load up the box into the trunk of Ash’s car without a word before giving the movers the address to your new place.

“We’ll meet you at the storage place,” The driver says with a nod before getting into the cab.  

“Ready to go?” You turn to Ash as she leans on the roof of her car, giving you an imperceptible look.

“Yeah,” she says with a nod before ducking into the car. She’s holding something back, but you can’t quite figure out what.

“You ok?” You ask as you secure your seatbelt, “You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” Ash says as she pulls out into the street, “I’m just sad for you, for the both of you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, opting instead to set route to the storage unit on Ash’s phone before placing it back on the hands-free cradle. You don’t speak for the short drive. You’re too lost in your own thoughts to fill the silence. The moving truck follows you the whole way and once you’re booked it at the front desk you make your way to Dave’s storage unit.

Row after row of red roller shutters greet you, thousands of moments of people’s lives in stasis.

“These places always give me the creeps,” Ash says with a shudder as you get to the row where Dave’s unit is. You stroll down the numbered units, checking for 461 as you go.

“Yeah, it’s like a graveyard, rows and rows of dormant spaces.”

“Jesus,” Ash scoffs as she nudges you with her shoulder, “I was thinking more along the lines of where people hide their dirty secrets, or their drug money like in Breaking Bad.”

“I mean, those options aren’t exactly much better.”

“I’d much rather walk into this unit to find stacks of cash or his secret balloon fetish than dead bodies,” Ash says as you stop in front of the unit.

“Here’s to finding something less terrifying than a dead body,” you joke as you use the code lock to open it up.

The roller shutter opens with a rattle and a crash as the mechanism locks open. You fumble for the pull cord for the light. The bright fluorescent tube lighting blinds you for a moment before your eyes adjust.

There are metal racks lining the walls, with boxes of photo albums, books, and all manner of very personal items stacked up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room are larger items covered in sheets, the furniture Dave mentioned, you guess. There’s a whole rack devoted to records, and you watch Ash’s eyes light up as she sees them. She hurries over to the shelving unit and immediately pulls out a box labelled “The Stones”.

“Wow,” Ash lets out a low whistle as she steps into the tightly packed space, “Did he just pack his whole life up in here when he married your mom?”

“Seems that way,” you say absently as you notice a box filled with framed photographs, “It’s not like Nancy let him decorate his own home. You saw how sad and beige it was in there. All of this would have just been clutter to Nancy, and God forbid her man bring reminders of his life before, or his family into her home.”

You pull out the top one, almost without thinking. You see a younger Dave with a small, dark-haired girl on his shoulders, her tiny hands fisted in his hair as he smiles at the camera. A slightly older looking girl is hanging off his pant leg, caught in a fit of laughter as Dave has a hand on either child, steadying them both.

You’re not sure which one is which, but their names come to you immediately.

“Molly and Alice,” you whisper to yourself as you grip the frame in your hands, you wonder if it was Carol that took the photo. You’re surprised that you don’t feel any jealousy towards her. Instead, your mind immediately fills with the thought of having that life with Dave. Being the one behind the camera, capturing these moments of him and his girls. Being a part of those moments with him, a part of his life. A family.

You feel the shiver run down your spine as you refuse to admit to yourself that hope for that life with Dave has already taken root. It’s been festering inside you for some time but seeing him happy with his girls makes you face it. The need to have that life with him is all-consuming, threatening to swallow you whole. It’s too much for you to bear because you don’t know you’d be able to cope if it all came apart at the seams. Right now, you have to focus on you, on your life.

You put the frame down in haste and make yourself walk away, there’s a thick, tight feeling in your throat. You press on, moving to the covered furniture and pull the dust covers away to reveal a full-size record console. You recognize it mostly from film and TV, not having seen one in person before. The dark grey, mesh covered speakers the biggest giveaway, but you have no idea how it opens.

“Oh my fucking god,” Ash squeals at your elbow and you wince at the way your ears are ringing, “This is a Wrensilva!”

“A what?” You ask as you watch Ash run her hands over the wooden surface of the console, clearly looking for something.

“It’s only one of the best modern record consoles on the market, these things go for ten grand or more.”

Ash explains with an excited energy usually only reserved for Sarah Michelle Gellar, Taylor Swift, and women she’s dating. Her fingers find purchase on the wooden panel on top and the hinge moves soundlessly as she pushes the cover open.

“This is pristine,” She breathes as her hands ghost over the brushed aluminum dials and knobs, as if she’s afraid to touch it.

“Shame he never had the chance to use it,” you say with sadness as you remember the small tabletop turntable in Dave’s basement. A far cry from the opulent piece of art before you.

“Do you think we could play something?” Ash says, already rifling through boxes of records to find something to play.

“If you can find somewhere to plug it in, be my guest,” You shrug as you pull off some more dust sheets to reveal a hoard of expensive-looking furniture. Everything is lacquered wood, there’s a dining table and chairs that would be way too big in your new studio apartment. You eye up a mahogany wardrobe with beautiful glass doors that would fit well in your bedroom.

The final item you uncover is a beautiful wooden writing desk with a curved shutter. There are drawers on either side of the space where a chair would go, with intricate brass handles on all of them. You push up the wooden shutter to reveal the desk itself. It opens with ease, revealing small drawers and open spaces for letters and other small items along the top.

The flat surface has a leather mat inset into the wood, gold detailing in each corner. You run your fingertips over the smooth surface and imagine sitting at the desk with your laptop, pouring over legal notes and case briefs. There’s a perfect spot to put a desk lamp on the right.

You hear the needle drop, with the softest of scratches, and feel yourself take in a small breath as you wait for the music to start. The hauntingly beautiful sound of Nina Simone is crystal clear, and unbelievably rich through the bassy speakers. Clearly, Ash had found a power outlet. Feeling Good is one of your favorite songs, Ash knows this, and you smile as you look over your shoulder at her.

“Louis Armstrong, The California Ramblers,” Ash says approvingly as she saunters over to you, “Man has excellent taste.”

“I mean, have you seen me?” You scoff and Ash looks at you with a shocked expression, jaw hung open as she grins up at you.

“Are we doing this? Fully admitting you two are horny as fuck for one another?”

“After today, it’s more than a little obvious, don’t you think?” You say with a shrug, your lips pulled up into an unapologetic grin.

“Giiiiirl,” Ash squeals as she shakes her head in disbelief, “Ok but can we talk about those fucking grey sweatpants he wore today? I’m gay and I couldn’t help but fucking fixate.”

“Don’t,” you push on her shoulder as you feel your cheeks heat up, “I swear he wore them today to fucking torment me.”

“Is it as big as it looks?”

“Jesus Christ, Ash, for a lesbian you’re way too into dicks.”

“Women can have dicks too,” Ash points out and you roll your eyes.

“You’re way too into the dick of a cis man then,” you counter, and she just shrugs as she grins at you.

“You’re no fun,” Ash huffs, realizing you aren’t going to divest the size of Dave’s cock to her.

“It’s also fucking gorgeous,” you say as you head towards the door of the unit, not so much as looking at Ash as you go. The movers are waiting for you outside and you quickly tell them which pieces to take out to the truck.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Ash groans as she scrambles after you, “Could we at least go dildo shopping so you can point out an adequate substitute?”

“You’re so fucking gross,” you laugh as you turn off the console, putting the record back in its sleeve before unplugging it. Ash replaces the lid of the console and paws at it balefully, like a lovesick puppy.

“That’s not a no,” Ash wiggles her eyebrows at you as you put the boxes back on the shelving units.

“Only if you buy me one too, Nancy ruined my favorite one by fondling it before covering it in mashed potatoes.”

“No, not Vibro Vibescal?!”

“The very same,” You say solemnly as you make your way back to the door of the storage unit, “No way could I bring myself to put him inside me after that, food and pussies just don’t mix.”

“And no-one wants their moms touching their toys.”

“Ugh don’t,” you groan as you lean against the exterior wall, you’re so ready to get home and start unpacking.

“So, what will you call the new one?” Ash asks as she rests her head on your shoulder, snaking an arm around your waist.

“I dunno,” you muse, “Maybe Hole Filler?”

“I don’t get it,” Ash says, and you can hear the pout in her tone as you watch the movers grab the writing desk. The last item.

“Like Joel Miller, from The Last of Us?”

“Too far a walk to get to the punch line,” Ash grumbles as she tries to think of something else.

“We good to go?” You hail one of the movers as he passes you both.

“All set, just checking, this the address?” The man asks as he holds out his phone, the address already inputted on the Maps app.

“That’s the one,” you nod and start locking up the unit.

“See you there, ma’am.”

You smile to yourself at the honorific. The moment you’re happy everything is set up you loop your arm through Ash’s own. You stroll back to the car, your heart a little heavier.  You try not to dwell on the way you can’t stop thinking about the photo of Dave and his girls.

~*~

You unlock the front door to your open plan apartment with a jingle of keys and hurried movements. The second-floor apartment is exactly as you remembered it. Dark hardwood floors, high ceilings with arched windows. The walls are a soft blue, bare, but for a few framed posters the last occupant left. You make a mental note to take them down. You head through the main living space, beckoning Ash to come inside.

“Shit, how much is this costing you?” Ash says as she steps in behind you.

“Not as much as you’d think. Two people died in the bedroom; the rental company couldn’t shift the place. Apparently, it was big news a year ago?”

“People died in here?” Ash whispers.

“Ash, people die in homes all the time,” you sigh as you watch the movers pile the furniture into the middle of the room, “I’m much more afraid of the living.”

“But like,” Ash looks around the open space with wide eyes, “Isn’t it weird?”

“All I care about is that it’s almost half as cheap as anything else for rent in this part of Austin,” you shrug, dead people can’t hurt you.

“You’re far braver than me,” Ash says with a shudder, “I couldn’t live in an apartment that has ghosts.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, Ash,” you laugh as the movers start to bring up the furniture.

“Where do you want us to set things up?” The lead mover asks as he wipes his brow.

“It’s fine, I’ll sort it,” you say with a wave of your hand, not wanting to pay extra to have them set up the bed and other items.

“Mr York pre-paid for the service, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Alright,” you nod, your heart fluttering at Dave’s thoughtfulness.

You instruct the movers to set up the bed in the other room, the only space that isn’t open plan. Then they set up the chairs and desk in the main room, the desk sits beautifully under the main window, looking out into the city below. They stack the moving boxes in your bedroom.

The moment the movers are gone you head back down to Ash’s car to get your prop box. You expect Ash to come back up with you, but she shakes her head.

“I’ve gotta catch up on work, but we’ll do something this weekend yeah? Maybe throw a housewarming? Invite Peter?”

“Sounds good,” you say as you pull her into a firm half-hug as you balance the prop box on your hip, “Thank you so much for today.”

“Anytime,” she tilts her head at you with a smile, “But please, don’t get murdered by your ghosts.”

“I promise,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you hold your hand over your heart. She sighs at your lack of sincerity before getting into her car. You wave her off as she leaves, only heading back up to your apartment after she disappears from view. You reach the top step, about to enter the main building when you feel the prickle of uncertainty under your skin. You look over your shoulder, scanning the street for anything out of place. But there’s nothing there, just the typical bustle of people going about their business. There aren’t any obvious signs of a PI, but you feel unease as you slip inside.

You lock your door behind you, already eager for Dave to get his security contractor in to set up the alarm and cameras. You set your prop box down on your bed before you start unpacking the rest of your clothes and bedding. The wardrobe just about fits all your clothes, but you make a note on your phone to plan a trip to IKEA at some point for a chest of drawers for the rest of your clothes. You think of anything you need for the kitchen, cutlery, plates, all that mundane stuff.

You set your laptop up on the writing desk and pull over one of the wingback chairs, it’s too low to really use the desk comfortably but it’ll do for now.  Your dual monitors and PC tower won’t fit on this. Another thing to add to the list, a computer desk for your room as you’d left the old one at Nancy’s. But the writing desk is perfect for studying, with ample room for a laptop and books as well as a lamp. Another thing to add to the list.

“Fuck,” you huff to yourself as you realize that the small – if expensive – offering of Dave’s furnishings certainly made a dent in what you need, but your new place was far from complete. You order pizza before taking a long shower, the water pressure is delightful. You pad back out into the bedroom in just a towel, grateful for the generous adjoining bathroom, and pull the throw off the prop box.

You hold the fabric to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent of home, of Dave. It’s faint, but it still fills you with a rush and you think about that morning you woke up in Dave’s arms. The way his lips brushed against yours in the haze of waking. The first real moment that you crossed a line echo in your mind as you feel nothing but euphoria as you press your face into the fleecy fabric.

You throw the blanket over your shoulders as you open the box. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you see the olive-green hoodie and “USMC” logo front and center in the box. You drop your towel and pull the oversized garment on. You groan audibly at the smell of Dave’s bodywash, and his natural scent that you never can truly place as you pull it over your head. It’s like a hit of adrenaline spiking through you, it makes you bold.  

You find a pair of leggings to pull on before grabbing your phone. You dial Dave’s number, heading over to the loveseat in the middle of the apartment. You flop down and to your dismay he doesn’t pick up. You glance at the time and realize it’s almost ten, a little late for a call. You open up Instagram to scroll when the call comes in.

“Everything ok?” There’s an urgency in Dave’s voice that makes your stomach flutter.

“Everything’s great just finished unpacking,” you say as you try not to whine at his voice in your ear, “Thank you, Dave. I know I keep saying it. But really, I can’t express how much all this means to me.”

“Like I said, think of it as a late birthday present.”

“This is a bit much for one birthday,” you argue, both of you are stalling again, neither wanting to hang up.

“I think you’ve had more than enough shitty birthdays to warrant being spoiled this time around.”

You don’t know what to say, because he’s not wrong. This is the most you’ve been spoiled in your life, not that the bar is all that high. But it’s nice to be seen, to have someone acknowledge it and try and make amends. Even if it isn’t his responsibility. But that’s probably why it means so much more to you.

“I found the hoodie,” you say as you bite your lip, all you can smell is Dave.

“I hope you didn’t mind me putting it in there,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a purr in your ear, “I always thought it looked better on you.”

“It feels like home.”

You know you’re being too forward, but you miss him, you wish he was here. But you can’t say any of that out loud, but you need to say something.

“You’re a good man, Dave,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I try,” he says, and you hear something low, sorrowful in his voice as he speaks, “Anything you need, you know where I am.”

“I do, see you around, Dave.”

“Bye, Princess,” The nickname makes your heart flutter, and you hear a grunt of discomfort on the other line as Dave realizes what he’s said, “I-, I didn’t mean-,”

“See you around, Duke.”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything more, astonished at your own boldness. You squeal to yourself like you’re a teenager again, drifting dangerously close to outwardly flirting with him.

But the thing that is clear to you now, if you ever really had any doubts about how Dave felt have dissipated.  

He feels the same way, whatever it is you have, no matter how irresponsible it is, it’s mutual.

Follow @vi-notifs for updates!

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[salty-lemon-shark-from-the-sea]

Maya and the Three + (Reader) Incorrect quotes (Part 2)

Chimi: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Rico: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Chimi: But you’re always acting stupid?

Rico: …

Rico: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

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Chivo: Pick a card, any card.

Bone: Fine.

Chivo: Wait, that’s my credit card!

Skull: You said any card.

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Xtabay: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don’t hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I’m just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

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Chimi: Everyone knows that Santa is an international designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public.

(Reader): The whole “childhood wonder” stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?

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Rico: Why is Picchu crying?

Chimi: They saw a leaf on the sidewalk and-

Picchu: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY!

Rico: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say-

Picchu: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH!

Rico: NO, NOT THAT!

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Camazotz: Wow you and Cabrakan are home early from the movies. What happened?

Cipactli: We got kicked out because Cabrakan wouldn’t stop yelling diving scores as people jumped off the titanic.

Cabrakan: That last guy had a solid 8, I’m telling you!

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Maya: I regret nothing!!!

Zatz: I regret everything!!!

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Zatz: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

(Reader): You and me!

Zatz: *tearing up* Ok.

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Queen Teca: So, what’s for dinner?

King Teca, staring at the food they burnt: Regret.

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Vucub: Being half asleep and feeling someone gently plant a kiss on your forehead is one of the purest kinds of love in the world.

Chivo: Unless you’re home alone.

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Chimi: This date is boring!

(Reader) This isn’t a date. I said I was going to the store.

Chimi: Then why did you invite me?

(Reader): I didn’t, I specifically said “don’t come with me,” then you said, “fuck you (Reader) I’ll do whatever I want!”

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Rico: *very seriously* You need to stop doing weird things to cope with the stress. Going outside might help.

Chimi: I went to the park today.

Rico: There you go! I hope you got something from that.

Chimi: *opening their coat* This duck.

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Acat: Zatz is playing hard to get.

Acat: Little do they know, I’m a master at playing hard to get rid of.

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Lord Mictlan: What are you doing tomorrow?

Any god/goddess: Having my day ruined by whatever you’re about to ask me to do.

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Lady Micte: If I ever had a child, I image they would be a lot like you.

Lord Mictlan: Aww, thanks—

Lady Micte: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

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(Reader): Did you get the eggs like I asked?

Maya: Even better!

(Reader): What the fuck did you—

Maya: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

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Lord Mictlan: What have I done wrong?!

(Reader): Everything. For your entire life.

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(Reader): Chivo… Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Chivo: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

(Reader):

(Reader): I wrote sanitize Chivo.

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Rico: (Reader) that's disgusting. You’re only giving free stuff to beautiful people.

Chimi: Yeah, you should be ashamed of yourself.

(Reader): Oh yeah? *gets really close to Chimi* How about a muffin on the house baby?

Chimi, giggling: I’m pretty.

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Acat: Please! Pretend I’m useful!

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Camazotz: Oh Zatz, we have a visitor!

Zatz: Don’t tell me it’s (Reader).

Camazotz: It’s (Reader).

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Zatz: There’s no way they like me back.

(Reader): Maya would throw herself in front of a moving car for you.

Zatz: Maya would throw herself in front of a moving car for fun.

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(Reader): I have so much energy, I want to run a marathon or commit a crime… which should I do?

Barbarian Princess: Please don’t get arrested.

(Reader): No promises! <3

Barbarian King: Why not both? Get creative!

(Reader): Wonderful suggestion, thank you.

Barbarian Princess: Please don’t encourage them, Papa.

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Lord Mictlan: Love is weakness and an evolutionary mistake.

Camazotz: You are literally making a Valentine’s Day card for Lady Micte.

Lord Mictlan, pointing their hot glue gun towards Camazotz: You’re on thin fucking ice.

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

King Teca: Don’t mansplain this to me!

Queen Teca: Wh- I’m a woman! I can’t mansplain anything to you!

King Teca: … Well, I’m a feminist, and I believe a woman can do anything a man does!

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Skull, at (Reader): Would you like to stay for dinner?

Bone, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

*Acat is telling a story*

Hura: Wow, Acat, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance!

Can: *grunting* Romance?

Hura: I have a crush on them.

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

Xtabay: How do I make a date really romantic?

Vucub: Be mysterious.

Xtabay: Okay.

*Later, while on a date with (Reader)

(Reader): So where are we going?

Xtabay: None of your fucking business.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

could you trust them with your houseplants? blue lock edition

a/n: crack treated seriously for all the plant havers, lovers and other enthusiasts. i did this for another fandom i write for and figured ‘why not blue lock’ after talking with my friend @cafedanslanuit about what plant i’d give her and reo as a housewarming gift

a no question. your plants are thriving like you never left to begin with. probably your go to plant sitter if something comes up and you have to leave for a while. you will definitely come home to your plants not only being alive but in pristine condition. maybe there will even be a new leaf sprouting when you come back. responsible, reliable, and you can rest easy knowing if another situation arises where you have to leave your plants will be fine.

chigiri (royalty recognizes royalty because your plants do well in his hands. he tends to your plants as carefully as he tends his leg and his hair. just make sure your plant is pet friendly because if it isn’t, it’s not coming in his house)

kunigami (looked up plant care guides and youtube videos because he refuses to let one of your plants die after you left him in charge of them. might even consider getting a plant of his own afterwards since he enjoyed the experience of checking on the little guys after practice or a bad game. it made him feel a little better to be distracted caring for something else)

rin (you’d think he’d be bad but he manages to fit plant care into his meticulous schedule with no mistakes)

barou (he complains that your plants are pest bringers but he takes care of them quite well and none of them ever have infestations on his watch because he checks them everyday. if something is even a little off, he is right on it)

the ‘technically a no question’ wild card:

nagi (it depends on how high maintenance your plant is. if it is low maintenance like choki, great. your plant is thriving because the man barely had to do anything for it. but you’ve got something a bit more high maintenance like a calathea or a peace lily, nagi will be struggling. but just how he sprung into action when he saw reo distraught that they might lose, even if your plant is high maintenance he tries his best because he knows how much it means to you)

do not leave your houseplants under any circumstances with these individuals because you will come back to less plants than you started with. if they even remember to water them, they will definitely water them too much. even if your plant manages to recover from the lack of proper care, they’re never the same afterwards. no you’re not being dramatic, plant murderer, you know how your plants are like on a good day and it has been nothing but bad day after bad day since you’ve come back

ryuusei (why did you even ask him to watch it in the first place? that was your first mistake and you just have to live with the consequences now. he probably killed them on purpose, just to fuck with them. threw hard vodka on them and everything)

reo (bro can’t keep a plant alive to save his own life and neither of you know why. you swear he touched your zz for one second and it flopped over immediately. YOUR FUCKING ZZ! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE OF THE TOP HARD TO KILL PLANTS. he becomes a houseplant serial killer afterwards because he keeps buying plants over and over again swearing ‘this time will be different’ but the end result is all the same)

sae (he literally forgot that you asked and watered none of your plants. he eventually noticed them after the wilting and then sent you a text of them going ‘my bad. i’ll get you some new ones’)

you HAD a plant. now it is theirs and there’s no way you’re getting it back when you return home. they developed an emotional attachment to your plants through the many odd hours of talking to them randomly and getting excited when a new leaf or bloom would sprout on a stem. now your plants have been conveniently relocated to their room and any decisions about said plant needs to be passed by them. apparently you don’t appreciate “little rain” enough. yes, they even named it

isagi (if you aren’t living together yet, he is coming up with excuses as to why he can’t bring it back yet. he’s sure that little noel noa might have mealy bugs and we can’t have that spreading to the new monstera you bought right? when you tell him there’s no bugs on it though and to return your baby, he looks like that photo his mom showed you of him of when he was a toddler holding holding his football closely to his chest as he holds little noel noa and you can’t help but cave)

bachira (bro bought a houseplant stroller to take your plant on walks, put stickers on their pot and would probably take it to watch him practice if isagi didn’t draw a line on bringing plants to practice. when you ask for your plant back he just goes “our plant, babe”)

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

high infidelity | two

Put on your records and regret meeting me, I bent the truth too far tonight I was dancing around it *Noah’s POV* Damn, this girl was something else. I won’t ever admit it but I saw her and her friends before I even went on stage. During the show I was looking for my in-ears backstage and I saw her from the corner of my eye with her friends. I had to chuckle watching them dance around and sing every word during Dayseeker’s set. She stuck out amongst her friends though, her long jet black hair, bright red lips and golden skin really caught my attention…she had this glow about her that I couldn’t describe. When we came onto the stage I found her immediately and had a hard time keeping my eyes off her. Every time I walked past her, I kept noticing new things about her. She had a rose tattoo on her sternum, Roman numerals down the side of her neck and a full sleeve of butterflies and peonies on her right arm. I even made a conscious effort to sit near her during Who are you? and as soon as I saw her bright green eyes flash at me, it was game over. I knew I needed to meet her. Then I met her without even trying.

You can’t tell me that wasn’t fate even though it was super embarrassing she found me in the women’s bathroom. I thought I was in the clear since it was just my band and crew backstage but that was a terrible calculation. Also have you shared a bathroom with a bunch of other dudes? Sometimes you just need your own space and the women’s bathroom had a bigger shower. 

She really did have to use the bathroom so I gave her some privacy but I waited outside in the hall for her. Her scent of salted caramel and vanilla lingered under my nose and I couldn’t get enough. The guys and I were going to head to a brewery after the show and since Seattle wasn’t far we planned to travel there in the morning instead of overnight. This was our first time in Vancouver so we wanted to make the best of it. 

I texted our photographer Bryan about her before putting my phone back in my pocket. He was surprised at my actions considering that I never entertained women on the road, let alone a fan. Something was telling me she was different. I heard the hand dryer going in the bathroom before she opened the door. Her eyes widened as she saw me standing there. “So do you just hang out inside and outside women’s bathrooms?” “Yeah, I was told if I got caught again it would be my third strike.” She laughed and had a huge smile on her face. Fuck, even her smile was gorgeous. She flashed me her green eyes again and I could’ve melted at her feet. God what was she doing to me…

“Sorry, I hope this isn’t too forward, but me and the guys are heading to this brewery down the road. Do you want to come?” “Sure. I’ll just text my friends, they’re back here somewhere.” She replies as she pulls her phone out. I catch myself watching her every move. Her nails were painted a dark maroon and she had the hidden leaf village symbol from Naruto tattooed on her thumb. I smirked, not what I was expecting us to have in common. “I just realized I never caught your name.” I managed to get out. Her eyes find mine and suddenly I’m putty in her hands. “Elliot, but you can call me El.” Why was that suddenly the most beautiful name I have ever heard? *Elliots POV* 

Before I knew it we were all sitting at a large table at this cozy brewery having drinks with Bad Omens and their crew. My brain couldn’t process what was going on at all. The boys seemed to have picked one of my friends to talk to and we were hitting it off really well. Noah went up to order some beers for us, I offered him my credit card but he said this round was on him. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he walked back to me. “I really couldn’t decide what to get so I got some of those beer flight things to try everything.” He smirked as he sat beside me. His leg brushed against mine and blood rushed to my cheeks again. “That works for me.” I shrugged. “Everything here is really good.” Noah crosses his arms on the table and brings his gaze to me. Those beautiful brown eyes were causing me to go into a spiral. The brewery was so loud but damn, when he looked at me it got quiet. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only one in the room. I was trying so damn hard to not get caught up in it because I didn’t know who he really was. For all I know he could do this every night when he was on tour. I also wanted to live in the delusion that I was the first girl he ever asked out after a show. Get a grip, Elliot. “Do you come here much?” He asked breaking the silence and snapping me back into reality. “I’ve been here a few times, but there’s just so much to choose from living here.” “Do you have a favourite?” “Yeah I do. There’s actually a bar in my neighbourhood I go to a lot. It’s actually a wine bar where they make their own wines, they have the comfiest couches and the best charcuterie boards.” “Sounds like my kind of place.”

Our drinks come to the table and he immediately wrapped his hands around the darkest beer we got. I grabbed one of the lighter looking beers and look a sip of it before we swapped to try each others. Both of our faces scrunched up in disgust before we immediately switched glasses again. I studied the tattoos on his hands as he grabbed the cold glass from me, noticing the heart he had on one of his fingers. I forgot what we were talking about…

“I really like Vancouver so far.” He continued. “It’s like Seattle but the people are way nicer.” “Canada is definitely the superior country.” I chuckled.

He raised his eyebrow at me before moving onto the next beer, “Well, I am looking for a new home base.”

“Not loving California anymore?” “It’s not that I don’t like it…” He pauses to take a sip of his beer. “I’ve always wanted to live in the Pacific northwest area. The weather is more to my liking and people seem to leave us alone. I really like my privacy and people in LA are starting to recognize us more and more. I know it comes with the territory but after quarantine I realized how important it is to have a home base where you can be yourself.” “I get that.” I replied. “Every one deserves to have a safe space to come home to every night.” “Do you have that?”

“I’m working on it.” I muttered, knowing my home life was in absolute shambles. The more drinks we had the more comfortable we got with each other, not like we needed that much liquid courage though. We talked like old lovers picking up where we left off and I admired how respectful he was being towards me. I put my hand over his by accident but he didn’t seem to mind, he just squeezed my hand with a Cheshire Cat smile on his face. I noticed he had the same Naruto tattoo on his hand that I had and we ended up having a long conversation about the anime. We oddly seemed to have the same opinions on it and he showed me a photo of his thigh tattoo of Itachi he recently got. A few moments later I excused myself to the bathroom to gain my composure. I pulled out my phone and found my lawyers number. It was time. “I’m ready.” “Come see me tomorrow…I’m so proud of you for finally doing this, Ellie.” I took a few more breaths before walking back towards our table. I sat beside Noah and his cheeks were getting rosy, it was beyond adorable. His hand grazed over my thighs as he reached for my hand again. Euphoria filled my body and didn’t want it to stop, I didn’t want him to stop touching me. “Do you want to get out of here?” Noah whispered in my ear. “Wow you move fast.” I joked as I pushed his hair out of his face, almost pouting because his hair was so much shorter now. Still, it gave him a Disney prince kind of vibe that I adored. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a walk or go somewhere more quiet.”

“A walk at this time of night? Are you going to murder me, Noah?” “Oh god no - I was - I -um-“ He was stuttering over his words and I couldn’t help but laugh. He was getting more embarrassed and covered his face with his hands. “I’m kidding Noah.” I reassured him by moving his hands away from his face, “there’s another bar I like we can go to. It’s attached to the Hyatt down the street.” “That’s our hotel.” He smirked before finishing off his beer. We got up from the table and said our goodbyes to our friends. Danielle shot me a look and I just shrugged my shoulders at her cause I had no idea what I was doing. We got outside and started to walk towards his hotel slowly, we didn’t say much but he reached for my hand and I grabbed his with no hesitation. After seeing his bands reaction to us leaving together, it definitely told me he didn’t do this very often. This started to feel genuine and I knew I had to tell him the truth. Noah’s POV She was such a calculated risk and I knew that. Honestly, I wasn’t really one to find a girl at our show and try to take her home. Most of the guys would invite some of our female fans to chill with us but I wasn’t interested. All these girls just wanted to be with us because of who we were. Sure, Elliot knew who we were but after spending time with her she made me feel like she saw past the bullshit and saw me as just Noah. She stopped halfway up the stairs to our hotel and her energy had shifted as she dropped my hand. Her green eyes deepened as she looked up at me, causing my heart dropped into my stomach. “Noah, I need to tell you something.”  “You can tell me anything.” I partially lied because I didn’t want to know what was next. “I’m in the process of getting divorced.” She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. “I wanted to tell you sooner but...” Go figure, the first women I’ve fallen for in years was still married. “What?” I could feel my voice trembling. I looked at her and I see tears forming in her eyes. I knew this wasn’t an easy thing for her to tell me, but I couldn’t fight off the anger that was boiling inside of me. “So you wanted to see where this was gonna go before dropping a bomb like that? “Noah…Please.” A few tears fell down her face as she looked at me. “Can you blame me? You’re in a fucking band! How the fuck was I supposed to know you don’t take a girl home every night?” “So this is my fucking fault then? You assumed I just fuck my way though my tours?” “NO!” She yelled at me causing a few people to look at us. “No…” She repeated, this time in a whisper. I could feel my own tears forming as I felt myself losing her before I even had her. She looked in the opposite direction of me and I could see her mascara starting to run down her face. I wanted to desperately wipe it away but my heart was telling me to walk away and forget about her. I swore off love years ago and I should’ve kept it that way. “Good night Elliot.”

[trickscourse]

Station | Early 20's | nig/ger* if your stalking me, it/its if your not.

Please don't talk about my family/accident or my trauma in any way, thanks!

Telling me to go to hell or to kill myself also makes me super uncomfortable!

Not a mod of @stationrebuttal and Arty is NOT my friend and needs to FUCK OFF.

I was never innocent in this, I just want to be left alone.

it sure would be nice if people on the internet were normal about me for a change, but that can't happen in biden's america.

I don't want to have a discourse blog as an adult with a job and irl friends. I took this URL from someone who was besties with my groomer.

Currently I'm off tungle and uninstalled the app, I logged in and made this post from a browser I installed before fucking right on off. I have better things to do with my time and energy than "harass" people and run art through AI.

If anyone wants me to apologize or to talk, or to tell me to kill myself, the DMs and ask box are open. I'm attempting to turn over a new leaf and get better.

I use the words "I" and "we" interchangeably because I have the Cringe Disorder™ some of my posts will sound different than others.

For some reason you think you live in my town or know me IRL and you see me on a regular basis, shoot me a message so I can try to actively avoid you. I want to grow and change as a person and someone stalking me isn't going to help with that.

*= If you don't use the slur pronouns you're misgendering me. The auxiliary is to not talk about me and leave me alone. It was a joke until it wasn't.

At some point I may make text posts on here and if I do please don't fucking screenshot them. If we knew each other pre-pandemic I probably don't remember you.

Any and all questions people send me here I'll answer honestly.

@rimurutempest heres proof my shithead abusive mother DID know about things.

Love how you twisted things when I said you disrespected my boundary on blocking me without talking first because you wouldn't let me speak.

Making a funny little wall of "achievements"

Got swatted by tumblr user bog scales for being uninvolced with people disliking her 02/14/24

Awarded "Biggest Victim Complex 1992 by a 33yo man who identifies as a yandere.

Mayor of Clown Town and voted kinblr's favorite punching bag since 2017

I got groomed by Russell Thalassomania in 2015 and all I got was this stupid traumagenic disorder.

Runner up for "problematic fave for not being able to background check every blog that it interacts with" and "Sometimes people can lie about things, especially immoral things" in 6th and 4th place.

On 3+ DNIs and counting.

In all seriousness, the callout and archiving my "wrongdoings" that's just a long ass series of "he said she said" screenshots in a google doc for 5+ years is obsessive and creepy. Please get a fucking life and let me live mine.

[vashtijoy]

ohhhhh would you mind sharing your akechi post-canon ideas and aus? 👀👀

Ahahaha oh god THANK YOU FOR ASKING

so with @nardaviel, I have this whole ... thing, where Akechi comes back from the third semester and finds himself alive, using the deleted kakekomidera scene, where the two people who remember him from childhood talk about him at the refuge. He heads back to Tokyo and turns himself in to get Ren out of detention, pretty much as on 12/24 though Ren doesn't know he's there, and then he spends a month in jail being interrogated and staring at the walls and quietly going mad.

At this point he gets swept up by Mitsuru, possibly through Sae (who knows about the shadow operatives), and offered a place with her. He takes great pleasure in telling her to shove it up her ass, and unfortunately at this point there's a whole "or we could ask Amamiya-kun" thing, and tl;dr a highly resentful Akechi ends up working for Mitsuru—probably in a very grey and joyless capacity for a while, because you'd have to be out of your mind to trust him with anything. The clip on 3/20 at the train station is him being transferred from police custody to, essentially, Mitsuru's custody. He's traded what was at least independence of a kind in prison for putting himself into the hands of another rich, powerful asshole who wants to use him, for the sake of the one person he cares about, and the irony alone is almost enough to make him throw himself in front of that train Ren's sitting in.

Meanwhile, Ren thinks Akechi is dead, and is having his whole thing, off in the ass end of nowhere by himself.... and two years pass, during which he returns to Tokyo to study. And that's when Ren Finds Akechi Again, in the street, and punches him in the face, because why the hell not. And then, after some fallout and Ren nearly getting arrested again, they slowly have a chance to find what they might have been.

It also includes Futaba having both of their phones bugged and intruding on every text conversation they ever have, Akechi having an ankle tag for years and some sophisticated electronic locks on his doors, some extremely nice grounds with flowering trees and streams and little bridges and shit, Haru somehow being the one to find Akechi first and keeping it to herself, the most nervous bookseller in Jimbocho, Ren taking over management of Leblanc, a ton of "I'm 20 and I've done everything I'll ever do", Prisoner Angst, I'm Not Dead Angst, Akechi's seething hatred of Mitsuru and his certainty that she is a Maruki-in-waiting or at least the centre of another grand conspiracy, a lot of takeout, some very well-compensated gate guards, and a stillborn plan for Ren and Goro to skip the country entirely and hide out in Argentina or somewhere.

And, here and there, on occasion, they get over themselves enough to make out.

Since you were kind enough to ask, here's a relevant fic snippet from my collection, below the cut.

. . .

The next Sunday, Akechi heads to Jimbocho, to go through the second-hand shops. It’s fine. Weird little antique shops selling fripperies from the 50s and 60s; curio shops full of absolutely tacky trash, one with its window displaying nothing but ceramic bears; and the bookshops, of course, the reason Akechi is really here. Though he toys with buying one of the ugly ceramic bears, just to smash it.

There’s also an otaku shop, full of tiny Western figures that you’re supposed to paint, the sort of thing Akechi thinks he’d be good at, if he gave a fuck. But he doesn’t go in; the shop is full of awkward-looking students his own age, stereotypical otakus. Even besides that, Akechi dislikes students; they remind him that he’s not in university himself. Like he’d expected to be. Or to live long enough.

So he gravitates back to the bookshops, leafing slowly through old texts with their subdued covers, or hardbacks with gilt; there are even some Meiji-era wasobon, in a glass cabinet, with their glued-paper spines and their titles on glued labels. He stares at those for quite a while, head tilted, wondering what they’d feel like in his hand. When he turns away, he feels much smaller, like when he was ten and he’d ride the bus here rather than go home.

It takes him quite a while to settle on only one purchase; he goes from shop to shop, keeping lists in his head, ticking off options here, discarding them there. He doesn’t realise he isn’t scowling, and he doesn’t think of it as a nice afternoon. But he also doesn’t think about the absolute fuckfest last week in Inaba, or how off-balance he’d felt when he stepped back into the cognitive world again for the first time, only to feel his ankle tag shift away along with the rest of his clothes.

If anything, he feels unsettled. Like nothing bad’s happening, and so that must be bad. He heads absently out of the last bookshop, with his lone purchase taped into a washi paper bag, thinking he’ll try one of the espresso shops that also litter the area, because coffee and books are so inescapably combined—

—when a hand like a steel claw closes on his wrist.

Akechi drops the book, spins all at once, still fast with a killer’s reflexes. He finds himself staring into a taut face, furious beneath its tangle of black hair, eyes sharp and accusing, crystals of black graphite shining in the sun. Amamiya Ren is staring at him, touching him, for fuck’s sake, and all at once Akechi feels like his guts have turned to leaking, toxic mercury.

“Akechi?” Ren is saying, in a barely-there voice.

“That’s my name,” Akechi says, considering the likelihood that he’ll have to break Ren’s arm to make him let go. “Let g—”

He doesn’t see Ren’s fist. It flies into his right cheek, totally untelegraphed, and he hits the street with a grunt. Fucking Joker, every time, ugh, he should have seen that—

“Ow,” he mutters. Passersby are clucking to each other, so disruptive of them; he hears worried footsteps at the door of the shop he just left. But mainly he hears Ren, bending over him to talk in a relentless undertone. “I thought you were dead,” he’s saying, all the worse for the lack of deliberate malice. “After everything, Akechi. You let me think you were dead again.”

Akechi lets his head drop back onto the kerb, because fuck getting up, he’ll just lie here in the gutter. “You sound so surprised.”

“You—” Ren jerks forward, looks like he thinks about throwing a kick. So it’s fortunate this is the moment the police arrive, a fat one and a tall one; honestly, Akechi thinks they breed them that way, in pairs. He feels a stab of vindictive satisfaction as the fat one grabs Ren by the wrists, until the colour drains from Ren’s face like someone’s pulled off one of his feet.

Akechi closes his eyes. “Wait,” he says, getting up with a wince and producing his police ID, haha, because he’s a shadow operative even if he’s the worst they have and a liability; he almost works with the police more than he works at the Kirijo compound, by now. The two beat cops go a bit bug-eyed, the idiots. “I’ll handle this,” Akechi says. “He’s just a little upset. Won’t happen again, will it?” He smiles at Ren, with a flash of sharp teeth, with the bruise rising on his cheekbone: play along.

Ren’s eyes burn, and for a moment it looks like he’ll say something graphic in fluent gutter trash, rather than obey; Akechi relates with his whole being. But then Ren looks down, sullen, and shakes his head: no. Akechi beams for the cops.

“You see,” he says. “Sorry to have troubled you both. He’s very emotional, it’s not really his fault. Thank you for your work….” And they float away, charmed by a few utterly rote words from a stranger with a confidential department ID. And then….

And then that just leaves Ren. Who is staring at Akechi in bitter silence, and obviously, beneath his flat expression, raging.

Someone appears at Akechi’s elbow. It’s the proprietor of the bookshop. “Your book,” he says nervously, handing Akechi the paper bag he dropped.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you,” Akechi says, taking it. The package is a little dented at one corner, but otherwise fine. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” He bows, and the shopkeeper bows and hurries away, and Akechi could just die, again, it’s all such a fucking—

Except that Ren is still there, staring at him with Joker’s eyes; with all that fury and force and—and something else, something brighter and deeper and so much worse. “Where are your glasses?” Akechi finds himself asking, switching his thicker, cheerful mask for his much more comfortable flat one.

“I don’t need them for you,” Ren says.

Fuck. “Well,” Akechi says, “I’m not dead. As we’ve established. And you’re not arrested. So I suggest we both go our—”

Ren steps forward, interrupting him. “I can’t believe you’re still doing the same old shit,” he says. “They let you work for the police? Are you going to be on TV again, next week?”

That’s too much; far too much from Ren, who has no idea of what he escaped, no idea Akechi paid his debt this way. His voice turns brittle. “Interesting that you assume I had a choice, Amamiya.” Ren flinches, peeping out through his own mask. Akechi lifts the book.

“I hope you haven’t damaged this.”

He wants to close his eyes. Instead, he turns away and starts walking, in silence. Ren ought to fuck off, but he’ll certainly follow; he’s just wired that way. The Jimbocho street feels soft and shaky, like Mementos did, except now Akechi’s too used to solid ground and it feels like his ankles will twist from under him at every moment.

Ren tags at his heels like a dog. “I’m not going anywhere, Akechi. You’ll have to kill me.”

Akechi pauses, almost glances back. “I can just arrest you.” Technically; somehow he’s never been put in a position where the right move would be an arrest.

“Yeah,” Ren is saying. “You just proved you won’t do that.”

Akechi presses a knuckle between his eyes, as he screws them shut. “What do you want? How did you even find me?”

“You don’t think I read?” Ren says, defensively, not looking around at the three bookshops within ten metres. “I just didn’t read around you.”

“I know you read,” Akechi says flatly. “I saw everything you did.”

He still hasn’t properly turned. He feels Ren’s eyes on the back of his neck, through his hair, through his shirt collar; he thinks he’d feel them through a brick fucking wall. “Hifumi saw you,” Ren says.

That’s when he turns, incredulous. Togo had seen him? And known who he was? “I’ve never spoken with Togo-san. How did she remember me?”

“Don’t ask me,” Ren says, with a weird light in his eye, like he’s pleased Akechi turned back to him. “Seems like it’s just a thing. My confidants—do you even know about those?—they all remember.”

For a moment he’s silent. “When everyone else has forgotten.”

“Yeah,” Ren says quietly. His hands have gone into his pockets. He’s taller than he was; his eyes are on a level with Akechi’s, now. Or is he just not slouching?

Akechi sighs. It makes sense. Togo, who Akechi had no connection with; who had no reason to share any of Okumura’s discretion. All of Amamiya’s little projects, remembering Akechi laughing like an idiot, playing the fool, bringing himself down on television.

He feels like he can’t think straight, like he always did. Like he wants to stay put, learning and listening, picking through every little detail Amamiya might or might not have dropped. “I’m sorry Mementos is gone,” he says. Ren looks back at him, unreadable. “Perhaps we could at least have beaten the shit out of each other.”

“Yeah,” Ren says, not laughing. “That might have helped.”

“It did help,” Akechi says abruptly. “Both times, in fact. Because I really never liked you, Amamiya.”

“I know,” Ren tells him, unaffected. “And here we both still are, I guess.” He stands there like someone’s dropped a block of concrete on the pavement. Like Akechi really would have to kill him, to make him give up or go away. And part of Akechi still wants to, while part of him wants this moment to linger. The two of them—one a hero and one, well, not exactly a hero—who entered the fire from opposite sides, and came out changed, together, and alone.

A coin flips. He feels Hereward’s resolve inside him.

“I was going for coffee,” he says, still curt. “Come, if you want. Or stand there like an idiot, till you get arrested again.”

He starts walking in the direction of the nearest coffee shop; it was that or let’s smash a ceramic bear. Ren follows. “A coffee shop?” he asks, at Akechi’s elbow now. “Is this your revenge?”

“Ren,” Akechi tells him, perfectly serious, “you have absolutely no idea.”

[skyfall8600]

Sucked In. Chap 1: In Loving Colour

A/N: Welcome to my first ever Eddie Munson Fanfic! This is going to be a long series, and I apologise if I get any details wrong.

I love seeing your reactions so please comment and Reblog!

Warnings: Swearing

Pairings: Eddie x y/n. 

Summary: What happens if you get sucked into the world of Stranger Things, and come face to face with the big brown eyed metal-head you couldn’t get enough of. 

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist <3

[0.9k Words]

It has been a year since Season 4 of Stranger Things had graced your TV screen. After ugly crying over that devastating death of Eddie Munson in the last episode, you found yourself even more fascinated and captivated with that world and him. 

For Halloween 2022, you rocked your Hellfire shirt and joined your friends as makeshift versions of the Stranger Things gang. Your friends did nothing to stop your obsession, giving you small bracelets and pins for your birthday. 

“What’s your take on this one?” your friend said, showing you her phone screen with the latest theory on how season 5 might continue. 

“Vampire Eddie?” you laughed and blushed slightly, “I’d let him have me.” 

“Y/n!” they squealed, nudging your shoulder slightly. “It’s rather cool though, can you imagine? He’d be the second blood sucking Edward you’ve ever loved!” 

It was natural for them to make fun of your first movie crush, you had been so young when Twilight came out, but it seems as though some things never change. 

“Yeah... yeah.. laugh all you want.” You muttered, your eyes darting back to the inked pages of your book. “I have no shame in loving fictional men, they’re better than the real thing.” 

You remembered your attempts at normal teenage romances, most of the boys you dated often turning out to be disgusting pigs or unbearable to be around. It almost made it even more heartbreaking to know that you’d most likely never meet anyone with the same charm, passion and respect as the fictional men in your heart. 

At the ripe of age of 19, you were the last one in your group to never had a proper boyfriend, to never have that desire or passion of needing to be close to someone. You were constantly wrapped up in all your fantasy shows, books and imaginations. 

“Oh fuck, its 1am! I’ve gotta head off, see you next weekend yeah?” they said, grabbing their things and heading out of the room slowly. 

“I can’t do next weekend, got a job interview at that book store.” You replied, your face falling a bit. Ever since school ended, it has been getting harder and harder to see each other and stay as close as you used to. 

“Are you serious?! This is the fourth time you’ve had to cancel on me lately.” 

“I know, I know! It’s just so hard to find times, between college classes starting soon and trying to get some work-”

“Save it. I’ll see if Rebecca would wanna come instead.” they huffed, avoiding your eye. “I’ll see you around, text me whenever you’re free.” 

You said your goodbyes and were left alone in the silence of your small apartment. You looked fondly at the few pictures frames scattered on your bookshelf, missing the days of having a tight nit group. From 6 of you, it’s slowly died down to just the two of you. 

You sat quietly on your bed, trying to not let your emotions get the best of you. You turned on the TV and let the bright lights flicker around the room. You let Netflix play on random, continuing the end of Season 3 of Stranger Things. You knew that you would fall asleep, but hearing the voices of the characters gave you a small sense of comfort. 

The night air was unnaturally cold as you slept, causing you to shiver and pull the blanket above you as you stayed cocooned on the couch. Your whole body started to sweat, the air almost thick and slicing down your throat. 

You shifted slightly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the couch underneath you feeling almost as hard as stone. You opened your eyes and instantly panicked, your room gone and replaced with rocks, leafs and trees. 

“Did I fucking sleep walk?” you mutter to yourself. Your eyes trying to see between the trees, the soft glow of the sunrise giving you more colour to your surroundings. 

You followed the path, hearing slightly more commotion and cars speeding past. A small milk bar was near by and you walked in instantly, everything was oddly familiar but outdated. 

“May I help you miss?” the shopkeeper asked, he looked you up and down with a raised brow. You had fallen asleep in your clothes from the day before, not really understanding why that made him eye you down. Him on the other hand, had the highest, thickest and curliest set of hair that radiated the smell of hairspray from a mile away. 

“Um, am I able to use your bathroom?” you asked. He nodded his head to the right, giving you the approval. Walking slightly you noticed the so called store phone. “Oh no way, is this some sort of joke?” you laughed.

The man just stared at you, “What’d you mean sweetheart?” 

“It’s a fucking dial up phone! Oh my god, its still ringing! That’s sick as.” 

“I wasn’t aware there were any other types of phones, darlin’.” 

Your eyes widened, suddenly taking in all of your surroundings. Your chest became heavy, “Do you.... do you have today’s paper?” you whisper on a whim. 

“Here you are.” The thick news paper slapped down in front of you on the counter. “21st February, 1986″.

1986

1986

1986..... Hawkins Daily News.

“I’m sorry, WHAT!” You screamed. 

___________________________________________________________________________

And that wraps up the first chapter! This is a little side project for me, so not sure how often I will be able to post more BUT there is definitely more planned. Sorry no Eddie yet! 

TAGLIST:  @preciousbabypeter

[bitchinbarzal]

OOO I LOVE DRAMA SO LET ME ADD MORE

what about giving nico some of his own medicine?? making plans with your new boyfriend? like he's never been upset about you taking an extra day with iris so when he texts you about asking to keep iris and extra night he thinks nothing of it but it fucking pangs him right in the heart when he sees photos of you and iris from the weekend and you're too close to some random guy for his liking.

you messaged him asking if you could drop Iris off late Monday night instead of in the morning as you hadn’t made it back from your weekend away yet.

He agreed, never really making an issue with pick up or drop off.

Nico had completely forgotten about your weekend away — he remembers you mentioning it and asking him if something was ok to which he replied “you have a good sense of judgement if you think yes then yes”

That was until he was scrolling through pictures on instagram and he sees your post. It’s a picture carousel of you, some guy and iris captioned “weekend in Niagara with my two favourite people! and we even slipped in some Toronto hockey… Iris loved Carlton sorry @njdevil”

Nico clicked the tagged profile and scrolled through the guy, psychoanalysing his every post.

He sees stories that this guy has posted of him and Iris at the Leafs game and she seems so happy but Nico is so annoyed, his hands are gripping the phone tightly.

As Nico went to message you an angry rampage he sees your previous messages;

‘hey that is us away for the weekend with bradley… thanks for agreeing to this I know iris is going to have a brilliant time!! Have a fun weekend with Naomi’s parents!”

You’d told him you were going away with your new boyfriend but he was so concerned about his girlfriends parents coming into town he brushed past it.

When Iris was dropped off that evening he asked how I was an Iris was beaming.

“Daddy, bradley is so cool he put me on his shoulders for the game and then we got popcorn and then I saw-“

Nico nodded along contently as Iris told him how great her weekend was and he was trying to hard not to break something in anger.

“That’s great baby let’s get you ready for bed”

[fieldsofview]

Spider-Man: Homesickness

M | 20 Chapters | CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence | Five years after No Way Home The week that Peter finally learns to let people in again, despite kicking and screaming the whole way

READ CHAPTER 14 HERE

Teaser below the cut

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Shit,” he whispers to himself. Okay. Okay.

He kicks the half-open first aid kit under his bed and tugs on his quilt until it’s haphazardly hanging to block the view.

He hears a familiar voice, muffled and hushed through the door. “Maybe this isn’t the best-”

Ned.

“Oh shush,” another voice says. “Trust me.”

Gwen.

Fucking hell.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gwen calls through the door, “Peter, open this goddamn door. I know you’re home.” There’s a playful edge to her voice like she’s smiling.

He forcibly drops his shoulders from his ears and takes in a deep breath, holding it in his chest until it burns before releasing it. With one more passing glance around his spartan apartment, he hopes he’s not missed anything that blatantly screams ‘I’m Spider-Man!’

Wrenching the door open with more force than necessary, he says, “What do you want, Gwen?”

Before he can blink, Gwen barrels past him and into the apartment. Her arms are full of a stack of several pizza boxes that waft cheesy deliciousness into the room. “Hello to you too, asshole. Maybe think about texting me back, for once in your life.” She sets the boxes down on his kitchen counter and turns around to lean against the edge, watching him with a smile.

Left stranded by her, Ned and MJ stand awkwardly in the hallway. MJ’s arms are also laden with full bags of something, while Ned is carrying a whole TV screen and a black rolling container, not unlike a suitcase.

MJ seems to shake off the tension first, raising her gaze to meet his, steady. She ducks around Ned and through the doorframe past Peter, offering a quiet, “Hey, loser,” as she kicks off her shoes by the door. She follows after Gwen and sets her bags down on the small square of counter left, quickly pulling out drink bottles and snack bags.

Peter tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, wondering how the hell his life could get any more complicated.

Ned shuffles his feet, adjusting his grip on the TV screen. “I told you, man, they were planning something.” He gives Peter a sheepish, lopsided grin. “You can’t fight it. It’s no use.”

Peter sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. “Yeah, alright. Come in, I guess. Welcome to my… apartment.” Not home. Never home. He holds the door open wide so that Ned can pass through without bumping the screen and shuts it behind him with a shove, wincing at the scraping shriek as the door and the frame scrape against each other. The hot, humid, summer air always makes the wood swell.

Gwen is leafing through his cabinets, pulling out plates and glasses. She doesn’t bat an eye at the fact that none of them match and most of them are chipped or scratched.

Ned immediately makes his way over to the far side of the room next to Peter’s threadbare, polyester couch from the 1980s. He found it on the curb last year and only brought it up here once he realized that it would be great for blocking out the chill that leaks through the window during the winter.

Peter leans his back against his door, unsure of his place amongst the chaos. “Okay, I’m going to try this again. How the hell do you know where I live? And why are you here?”

“We’re here to hang out, obviously,” Gwen replies, still focused on rifling through his cabinetry.

“Right.”

She closes one of the cabinet doors a little too firmly and runs a hand through her hair with mild frustration. “From what I’ve heard, you had a rough morning,” she says pointedly, catching his gaze and holding it. “And while Harry and MJ are busy at The Tower, helping good ol’ Norman recover from that disaster of a press conference, I thought we could bring the party to you here, instead.”

He winces, clearing his throat in an effort to hide it. “Yeah, I, uh- I saw something about that.”

“Yep,” she replies, popping the ‘p.’ “But they can handle themselves, today. I thought it would be good to give you some company. And maybe some fun. Hence…” She waves her hand vaguely in Ned’s direction.

“Don’t take all the credit,” MJ cuts in. She pours a glass of something sweet, bubbling, and smelling of citrus.

“I’m not,” Gwen protests. “I’m just explaining why the ambush.”

Peter says, “So you admit it’s an ambush. Cause I gotta say I’m feeling a little on the back foot, right now.”

“After all the ups and downs this week, Gwen wanted to do something to surprise you. She said that you need to learn to relax and take a step back from work,” MJ says. She gives Gwen a look like there’s more to the story, but Gwen purposefully avoids eye contact. “So Ned brought everything he would need to set up his TV and Switch here since we weren’t sure what you might already have.”

“I hope you like Mario Kart,” Ned calls over his shoulder as he continues to set everything up.