#i straightened it before i cut it though to make it easier to see what i was doing and it looked pretty cute straightened

[creaturebehavior]

trimmed my hair again

added more layers and again, it looks better than it did last time

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 3

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Part 1, Part 2

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*"Help me raise this baby Kaiju"* "Pfft, easier said then done..." R/n muttered as she unpacked her stuff in one of the guest rooms, which was by the way; bigger than her apartment, R/n's things barely filled the space leaving huge gaps in the room making it feel little empty.

"Maybe I'll buy a couple plants or something..." She sighed and went to go check with Ken on what exactly she was supposed to do? Like R/n knew she had to help with the baby...but, how exactly? Not everyone can turn into a superhero the size of a skyscraper! She'd like to know what exactly his game plan was?

Meanwhile Ken was pacing around his base while baby was napping in her chamber. He had no freaking clue what to say to R/n, his brain was so fried from a lack of sleep he wasn't thinking straight when he came up with whole co-parenting thing, it was all starting hit him all at once!

What could he get R/n to do? She was just regular human! What if she had work the same time he had a game? what if baby has an explosive tantrum and accidentally hurts R/n or worse? The death of a civvy would not look good on Ultraman's track record, then again; neither was hiding a baby Kaiju but-

Ken's train of though was cut off by R/n coming down the elevator it was kinda weird seeing her in regular clothes and not that obnoxious red and blue Depotman uniform, having traded in said uniform in for a t-shirt and shorts, Ken straightened himself out and tried to make it seem like he wasn't on the verge of a complete breakdown as He and R/n got down to business...whatever it may be.

R/n's responsibilities were meager at due to her human factor, she was basically a glorified playmate to distract the baby whenever Ken was away. "...Feed her when her tummy rumbles, the burp her." R/n interrupted him with a snort.

"Right!~ burp her, right, right- I'll do that, But first lemme just call up Zordon and see if he has any spare Megazords laying around..."

"Ah, a woman of culture I see..."

"Lonely childhood."

"Hm..."

So...yeah, R/n burping Baby was out of the question...almost, they tried testing at method that Mina suggested; it involved R/n running up and down barefoot along the little Kaiju's back as a alternative and while it did work. the downside was it was very unstable for R/n to keep her footing and Baby's need to spit up afterwards caused some problems.

The infant immediately jumped to her feet with R/n still on her back and sent the woman tumbling off towards the metal floor, where she would've broken her back or neck if Ultraman hadn't quickly caught her. "Okay, not doing that again..." Ken said with a sigh as R/n slapped her hand over her mouth. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna barf too if I don't get on solid ground." She groaned Ultraman carefully put her down and announced his intention to clean baby up outside seeing as she wasn't completely done spitting up yet.

R/n meanwhile was looking at the putrid green mess already pooling around on the floor and was worried he was leaving this for her to clean up, until the she noticed the glowing "window" was actually a force field; sea pooled into the room as ultraman and Baby stepped outside before it was all pumped out by a drainage system. "Seriously, how much did this cost to build?" R/n wondered out loud It was then when Mina revealed that this basement use to be part of a spaceship that Ken's father used to arrive to Earth.

Cut to Ultraman rubbing Baby's back as she finishes up her business when the rare silence was broken by a faint yell from somewhere...It sounded like someone yelled "What?!" at the top of their lungs.

To say, things got better for Ken with the extra help would be stretching it R/n again had no idea what she was doing and was mainly in charge of keeping the baby entertained for a couple hours so he could get so sleep or go to work, but unfortunately life's a B, and Though they took turns waking up at odd hours feeding her, or bathing her. (R/n uses a large push broom as a scrub brush.. or at least tries to, that baby Kaiju can run!),

Ken was still heavily needed for heavy clean up duty and that left him exhausted during his games, also he noticed R/n hadn't gone to work once since she moved in with him which caused him to jump to the conclusion that she quit, cos that what the last person who lived with him back in LA did (Which resulted in nasty break up).

So he confronted her "No I didn't quit my job, I took maternity leave." R/n said affronted by his accusation, Ken looks at her skeptical how she could possibly gotten on leave when she doesn't have kids? "I told my boss that a friend of mine had just became a single parent and asked me for help so I'm moving in with them, he gave a month off to adjust my new responsibilities." She further explained that it was Mina's idea and the bot pretended to be the friend on the phone with R/n's boss to confirm her story.

"Okay, if this is the case, then where the heck have you been going when I'm on baby duty?" The exhausted baseball player pressed R/n looked at him slyly. "Toy shopping." Ken at her befuddled "Toys for who?" Cut to Mina helping R/n pull in a large cart with a tarp over it out of the elevator and in front of the baby who looked at it curious as R/n removed the tarp revealing a adult pedal car (It looks like the ZAT van from Ultraman Taro) and a 9ft tall Oni? action figure. (it's Momotaros from Den-o)

The baby cooed reached out to them but R/n stopped her for a moment before pulling out what looked like a giant tan rolled up mattress, Ken wondered if it was for chewing on or something, until the delivery girl cut the straps and plastic wrapping open to reveal it was a vacuum sealed 15 foot tall stuffed bear!

Baby squealed excitedly bouncing on her feet before grabbing the bear hugging it; she started playing with rest of the toys she got. While Ken stares on in awe. "I'd figured she was bored being stuck indoors all watching nothing but TV, I know was..." The baby was apparently acting out a hero saving her bear from a car crash she saw on TV show.

"How much did that stuff cost you?" Ken asked watching the scene feeling guilty about earlier; he pretty much accused R/n of being a leech when she was spending money for him. "The car and figure were from my job, rejected packages that were rotting away in the warehouse for the last 10 years; figured they might as well be used for something." She said the paused for moment seemingly in thought. "Annd you kind of paid for the bear." Ken looked at her confused how he could've possibly paid for the bear, R/n noticing his confusion and sighed. "Of you don't remember, last month? when I brought you coffee and donuts? You acted like a spaz and tipped me?" The cogs were spinning in Ken's head before grinding to a halt now remembering.

"Right....How much did I give you?

"Around 30000 yen or so..."

"...That's three hundred dollars, Yer telling me that bear cost three hundred dollars?"

"Hard to believe, but yes. It was a prop for photos in this designer children's photography shop I deliver to, the guy was selling it cos it scared the kids, I thought we could make better use of it."

R/n said with a little shrug Ken hummed and went back to watching the baby and trying not to doze off, only to be alerted that he had to go to work and begrudgingly made his way to the elevator much to R/n's concern the delivery girl could feel the tipping point was coming, she just hopes that when it does Ken knows he's not alone now and can try to open up to her a little more... 

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

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

-----------

@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,

@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,

@oh-kurva

[indulgentdaydream]

Cooking Lessons

Jason Todd X Reader

My first x reader fic! Of course I had to go with jason. He’s the love of my life🥰 inspired by me not knowing how to properly cut a bell pepper yesterday and wishing somebody (cough cough, jason, cough) had been there to help me

(ps. for anyone who also doesn’t know how to cut a bell pepper!)

Not proof read!!

Warnings: use of feminine pet names (ex, princess) food mention, knife mention, knife use, one (1) use of profanity.

Jason walked into the kitchen, sweating from his workout. He found you standing at the counter, your back to him. You had a knife in hand, chopping something up. He opened the fridge to grab himself some water. He could smell the spices of whatever you were cooking in the pan to your left.

He walked up beside you. He placed a hand on the small of your back as he looked down. There was chicken cooking in the pan and you were cutting up a bell pepper, “What you cooking, princess?”

“Quesadillas,” You hummed, focused on your task at hand. There was a cooking book open off to your right, set on top of the microwave

Jason hummed in response, smiling, “Smells good.”

He continued to watch you chop. Your hand moved slowly. You set the pepper on it’s side before cutting it in half, straight through the centre. The seeds inside spread all over the knife. You began to awkwardly cut around the centre, further making a mess of getting the seeds everywhere. He grew a little concerned as he kept watching, “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Who taught you how to cut up a pepper?”

Your shoulders dropped a little, your hand stilling. You looked up at Jason with a defeated look, “Nobody…”

He chuckled. He leaned in and kissed the pout on your lips, “May I?”

You nodded. He set down his water before moving in behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his arms under yours. He picked up another bell pepper, a dark green.

He placed it on the board, placing his hands over yours. His chin rested on your shoulder as he spoke, “First, you gotta cut off the stem.”

He guided your hands, enjoying the small giggle that escaped you at the sight of his large, calloused, scarred hands resting over your smaller ones, nearly engulfing them.

He spoke calmly and slowly, “Now, you flip it on it’s head, where the stem was. See the bumps? You cut down to chop those off.”

You hummed, “Like this?”

Jason nods, “Just like that.” He pulls his hands off yours, bringing them back to rest on your hips, letting you do it yourself.

“See?” He says when you finish, leaving the untouched centre, with all the seeds still intact, leftover, “This way, you can take the pieces you cut off, flatten them out, and they’re easier to cut,” He pauses, “Plus, you don’t make a mess of the seeds.”

He picks up the centre for you, tossing it into the small open compost bin sitting on the window sill of the kitchen. You shrug, picking up on of the pieces you had cut before, covered in the tiny white pellets that were the seeds, “I was just gonna wash it off with water.”

He lets out a low, thoughtful hum, “Waste o’ water.”

You mimic his hum and cast him a look over your shoulder, where he still rests his chin, “Not what you said last night when you dragged me into the shower with you.”

A grin pulls at Jason’s lips. He raises his eyebrows a little, amused, “That’s why we gotta counteract our water usage, princess.” He straightens, planting a kiss on your cheek, “It doesn’t help that your knife is a bit dull. I’ve got a sharpener in my duffle, though.”

You didn’t realize what he meant until he had already stepped out of the kitchen. You whipped around, “Jason Peter! You are not using the same thing you sharpen your blades with on my kitchen knives!”

He steps back in, holding his hands out, “It’s clean!”

You stared at him, “I do not believe you.”

She caught Jason’s smile before he nodded at the stove beside her, “Chicken’s burning.”

“Shit!”

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * ten things I hate about you

warnings: longggg as helll and it would’ve been longer too but I cut half the ending and I’ll put it in the next part so the chapters aren’t years long AND credits to lynn painter the story isn’t mine along with quotes!!!

pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader

series master list

your day started off great today! your cat mr. fitzpervert left a hairball in your slipper, you burnt your ear with the hair straightener and when you walk out of your house you see your long time next door nemesis sitting on the hood of your car

“hey!” you slide your sunglasses up your nose, hightailing in his direction, making sure you’re careful not to ruin your new floral flats “get off my car, you weirdo!”

percy jumped off, holding his hands up in a I’m innocent pose, even though his smirk said differently. regardless of his current demeanor you knew him since kindergarten, he’s never been innocent a day in his life

“what’s in your hand?”

“nothing” he put his hand behind his back “you’re so paranoid”

you walk up to him, squinting your eyes up at his face. though he claims to be innocent his sea green eyes twinkle with mischief. you knew you we’re screwed because mischievous percy always won

you poked him in the chest. “what did you do to my car?”

“I didn’t do anything to your car, per se”

“per se?”

“woah. watch your filthy mouth, y/l/n”

you roll your eyes, which made his mouth slide into a grin before he said, “this has been fun, and I just love your granny shoes, by the way, but I’ve gotta run”

“percy-”

he turned and walked away before you could finish speaking. when he got to his porch he opened the screen door and yelled over his shoulder, “have a great day, y/n!”

that’s not a good sign. that could’ve been legitimate. you and percy had been enemies since forever, in a war over the one available parking spot. percy only won because he was a dirty cheater, thinking it’s funny to reserve the spot by putting miscellaneous objects in the spot to difficult for you to pick up yourself

yesterday however you won. you called the city after he had left his car in the spot for three days, earning him a parking ticket

you checked all four tires before climbing into the car and buckling your seat belt. you heard percy laugh, and when you went to glare at him through your passenger window his front door slams shut

then you saw what was so funny

the parking ticket had now been on your car for all to see, stuck to the windshield with tons of clear packaging tape. you got out of the car and tried to pry it off but it wouldn’t budge

what a tool

💌

when you finally made it to school after scraping your window with a razor blade and doing hard-core deep breathing to reclaim your zen, you entered the building with the bridget jone’s diary soundtrack playing. when your music was playing this loud it was easier to walk through the crowded hallways, ignoring rambunctious teenagers

you headed to the second floor bathroom where you met annabeth every morning. your best friend was an insane over sleeper so every morning she would rush to do her makeup before the first bell rang

“y/n, I love that dress!” annabeth threw you a side glance between cleaning up her eyes, then opening her mascara and swiping the wand over her lashes

you went over to the mirror to straighten out your vintage dress, making sure it’s not in any awkward position. you catch sight of two cheerleaders vaping behind you, giving them a closed-mouth smile

“do you try to dress like the leads in your movies, or is it just a coincidence?” annabeth asked

“don’t say ‘your movies’ like I’m a porn addict or something”

“you know what I mean,” annabeth said as she separated her lashes with a safety pin

you knew exactly what she meant. you watch your mothers beloved rom-coms every night, using her dvd collection you inherited from her after she died. annabeth didn’t know about how close you had been with your mother, although you lived on the same street for many years, you were never really close until sophomore year. she always thought your love for romance movies was due to you being a hopeless romantic

once finished, annabeth put her makeup back in her backpack and grabbed her coffee. “come on”

you take a last glance in the mirror. “wait- I forgot lipstick”

“we don’t have time for lipstick”

“there’s always time for lipstick”

you search your bag until you grab hold of your new favorite shade- retrograde red. “you go ahead, I’ll catch up”

she left and you rubbed the color over your lips- much better. you tucked the lipstick back in your bag and exited the bathroom

when you got to class you sat in the desk between annabeth and drew tanaka

“what’s the answer to number eight?” annabeth was writing fast as she tried to complete her homework. “I forgot about the reading and I have no idea why gatsby’s shirts made daisy cry”

you pulled out your worksheet and allowed her to copy your answers. your eyes shifted over to drew. if surveyed, everyone on the planet would agree that she was beautiful, her whole appearance extremely appealing to the eye, an absolute indisputable fact. however her soul was the complete opposite

you disliked her so very much

on the first day of kindergarten she’d caused a scene when you got a bloody noise, the entire glass gawked at you in disgust. In third grade she told your crush at the time your notebook was filled with love notes about him (which was true but he didn’t need to know that). In fifth grade, after your mom died, drew sat next to you at lunch, displaying the perfect lunch her mother had made. sandwiches were cut into adorable shapes, homemade cookies, brownies with sprinkles; it had been a treasure trove of kiddie culinary masterpieces

to this day everyone thought drew was an angel, but you knew. you knew all the awful things she’s done

you turned your attention to the front of your room where your teacher began collecting last nights homework. you passed your papers forward and began talking about literary things. you took glances around your eyes until they stopped on a boy you went out with a few weeks ago. he gave you a chin nod from his desk, you returned a smile

he was nice but the relationship wasn’t it. this is how most of your relationships went though. you would see a cute guy, daydream about him, think he’s your soulmate, then you got the ick

annabeth always said you were browsing not buying. she ended up being right- as always. this messed up your prom potential. you wanted to go with someone who would make your breath catch and heart flutter, but who was left in the school that you haven’t considered?

technically you had a prom date- you were going with annabeth. the problem was that going to prom with your best friend felt like a fail. you knew you’d have a good time. but prom was about poster/board promposals, matching corsages, speechless awe over the way you like in your dress, and sweet kisses under the cheesy disco ball

andrew mccarthy and molly ringwald pretty in pink sort of shit

My phone buzzed, snapping you from your trance

annabeth: I have BIG tea.

you looked over at her, but she appeared to be listening to the teacher you glanced at her before responding: spill it

annabeth: FYI I got it via text from kate.

you: so it might not be true. Got it.

the bell rang, so you grabbed my stuff and shoved it into my bag. annabeth and you started walking toward your lockers, and she said, “before I tell you, you have to promise you’re not going to get all worked up before you hear everything”

“oh my god, what’s going on?”

you turned down the west hall and before you had the chance to look at her, you saw him walking towards you

jason grace?

“aaaand there’s my tea” annabeth said, but you weren’t listening

jason had lived down the street when you were little. you’d loved him as far back as you could remember. he’d always been next-level amazing, smart, sophisticated- totally dreamy

jaosn came over and wrapped me in a hug, and you let my hands slide around his shoulders. your stomach went wild as you felt his fingers on your back

oh. my. god.

you was dressed for it; he was beautiful. could this moment be more perfect? you made eye contact with annabeth, who was slowly shaking her head, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered

jason was back!

@fratbrochrisgf @maybxlle @lastolympus @lara20aral

[ilguna]

☼ warfare (Bellamy Blake) ☼

summary; when everyone in camp starts becoming ill, you volunteer to help, not knowing that your boyfriend would come down with it, too.

warnings; swearing, ehh gore, weapon mention.

wc; 4.8k

–

You pull your boot on, stomping your foot into the dirt to make sure it’s on all the way, straightening the tongue to make it more comfortable on your foot. You yank at the laces to tighten them, liking your shoes on nice and tight, but not enough to cut off circulation.

You hate it when you sleep in so late, it’s never on purpose. It makes you feel like you’re not pulling your weight, when everyone else has been working for hours, and you’re just getting up. In reality, you tend to work the overnight shifts at the wall for the people who don’t want to do it, because you don’t mind. You work just as hard as everyone else does.

You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, letting out a loud yawn. The only reason why you’re even awake in the first place, is because of a sliver of sunlight that managed to make it through a rip in the tent. It happened to land right on your face, and after so long, you couldn’t sleep through it anymore.

You crouch, lifting up the corner of the makeshift mattress to find your knife underneath, pulling it out. You flick it open, checking to make sure that it’s clean, before closing it. If it were up to you, you’d sleep with it underneath your pillow. The issue is that you share the bed with Bellamy, and he has a habit of sticking his arm beneath the pillow. You found that out after he cut his bicep by accident last week, because you like to keep it open for faster and easier access.

You tuck it into your pocket, before heading out of the tent. The sun is bright, blinding you slightly. You squint through it, listening to the commotion that’s happening out here. When you can finally see, you can see there’s a problem unfolding next to the fire. Where you usually find most people gathered to keep warm, there’s only one that’s sat in front of it.

It’s Derek, he’s got blood smeared around his mouth, hand cupped beneath his chin.

Your face twists, dropping the tent flap behind you so it can fall back into place.

Clarke suddenly rushes past you, heading for the dropship. From a brief look at her, you can see red smeared beneath her eyes, almost reaching her chin. You follow after her, checking behind you to see if there’s anyone else. Only, you see that there’s a semi-circle around Derek now, barely propping himself upright.

“What have I missed?” You ask, jogging to catch up with Clarke.

“I think that whatever Murphy has is spreading.” She says, giving you a look over her shoulder. “To everyone that gets too close.”

You’re sure the last comment is her way of trying to tell you to back off because you might get sick, but you continue after her. She walks up the path and into the dropship, holding the curtains open long enough for you to catch them, being mindful to move when you get close.

Inside, you can hear wet coughing. Around Clarke, you can see Murphy’s beaten up body, hunched over the floor. When he showed up yesterday, there were a lot of mixed reactions. A lot of people were pissed that he was let back inside, human emotion took over when you all realized how bad of a condition he’s in.

You can’t say that you feel bad for him, though. He’s gotten everything that’s deserved to come for him so far, and you guess this is just another round of it. He looks like hell.

He begins coughing again, you can hear the blood splatter on the ground as he struggles to hold himself up. His clothes are torn in several places from trying to escape the grounders, revealing the wounds he’s suffered from them. Clarke gets close, not worried about her safety because she’s already sick, and gets on the ground with him.

“Murphy, hey, look at me.” She says, he slowly raises his head to meet her eyes. “I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the grounders. What happened?”

Blood drips from his mouth, “I don’t know. I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off.”

Clarke’s silent for a second, turning this information over in her mind. “They let you go.”

“What?” You ask, “Why—?”

The curtain moves, light shining inside of the dropship. You turn to see Bellamy coming inside, gun prepared in his hand. He looks over your face first, checking to make sure you’re okay, before landing on the two on the floor.

“Bellamy, stay back.” Clarke says.

You grab his arm, making sure he doesn’t get any closer. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, missing your lips, “Did he do something to you?” Clarke shakes her head, Bellamy takes a few more steps forward to see more clearly, you hold onto him. “What the hell is this?”

“Biological warfare.” Clarke says, “You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it.” She turns her attention back to Murphy, “Murphy’s the weapon.”

When Murphy looks up from the ground, you can see the full damage done to his face. He’s covered in cuts and gnarly wounds in general, blood smeared over every inch of his face from the eyes down. Along with that, his eyes are swollen, the cuts are swollen, and his lips are too. 

You press your lips together, thinking over what this could mean. How long before everyone else in camp gets sick? If Clarke thinks it spreads through touch, then it’s only a matter of time before your worst nightmare comes true. Murphy touched three, and who did those three get to? Will it affect everyone or only a select number?

The curtains are drawn to the side again, the three of you watch as the two from outside are brought in by other people. It’s Derek and Connor, they must’ve been the ones to help Murphy inside. They’re just more people that could possibly end up as bad as Murphy, or as mellow as Clarke is right now. 

The two newcomers are laid on the ground, where they immediately begin to succumb to the coughing fits.

You share a look with Bellamy, wondering if you should be covering your mouth with your shirt or something. If this turns out to be the base for the sick, then the place will be a petri dish in no time. You’re asking for it.

“Is this your revenge, helping the grounders kill us?” Bellamy asks, Clarke has begun to dab at some of Murphy’s wounds with a wet rag, starting with his forehead and working her way down.

“I didn’t know about this, okay? I swear.” Murphy mutters.

“Stop lying!” Bellamy shouts, “When are they coming?”

“Murphy, think, all right?” Clarke starts, “What can you tell us that’s useful? Did you hear anything?”

Murphy shakes his head slightly, “They’re vicious, cruel.”

“You want to see vicious?” Bellamy starts forward. You grab at his jacket, trying to get him from getting any closer than you already are. He rips the fabric from your grasp, continuing.

“Hey, don’t.” Clarke says, “Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact.”

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore, most of you could be infected right now, then.” You say.

Clarke tilts her head, eyebrows raised, trying to tell you that you’re right without saying it out loud. It’s not a comforting thought, knowing that you’re right.

The curtain opens suddenly, and closes just as quick, Finn jogs into the room, “Clarke?”

“Finn, you shouldn’t be in here.” Clarke says, “No one should.”

“We’re fucked.” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

“I heard you were sick.” He breathes, looking around the room. It begins to dawn on him, “Clarke, what is this?”

“I don’t know, some kind of hemorrhagic fever.” She shakes her head, “We just need to contain it before—”

She’s interrupted by Derek when he begins to vomit all over the floor, body shaking so violently that he falls flat on the ground. You take a step back to give him more room, Clarke launches to her feet.

Finn reaches for her, she moves his hands away, “Hey, don’t touch me. You could get sick.” They share a look before she moves on, going to help Derek, “Wash your hands, now.”

Finn goes, like he’s ordered to.

“What the hell is happening to him?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke mutters.

A dark red and liquidy vomit hits the floor, consisting mostly of blood. This is when you lift your shirt over your nose to cover the smell, and watch as the boy collapses entirely in his own puddle of puke, the coughing ceases. Clarke gets down next to him, turning his head and finding no resistance. She reaches for his neck.

“Is he…?” Bellamy trails off.

Clarke’s expression falls, turning to look at you two, “He’s dead.”

There’s a few seconds of silence that goes through the room, where no one moves and stares at either Clarke or the body. It kills. The disease that Murphy brought into camp kills.

Once again, she’s the first person to move, grabbing a bottle off the shelf, going up to Finn. “Here, alcohol, hold out your hand.” She dumps enough to douse his hands.

“What do we do?” He asks.

“Quarantine.” She says, “Round up everyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here.”

Finn nods, not bothering to wait, leaving the dropship.

Bellamy’s eyebrows raise, “And everyone they had contact with?”

“Well, we have to start somewhere.” Clarke reasons, before turning around, “Connor, who was with you when you found him? Who carried him in? Think.”

Connor’s got a ring of red around his mouth because of the blood that leaked from his nose. The tips of his fingers are covered in blood, “The first one there was Octavia.”

Bellamy’s lips part, eyes widening. He doesn’t even look at you before starting out of the dropship, leaving you here with Clarke, Connor and Murphy.

You shake your head slightly, backing up to the opening, “Do you think some of us could be immune?”

“It’s hard to tell.” Clarke’s eyes find the ground, eyebrows drawing in. “It’s possible, but there’s always delayed reactions.”

You take a spot by the door, planting your feet, leaning against the wall. You hold your shirt over your nose. It can’t be of much use to do this anymore, considering you’ve breathed their air. You could be sick in a matter of hours or as late as tomorrow.

Finn gets to work outside. In the span of fifteen minutes, the ship has already begun to fill up with sick people, being carried in by those who volunteer to help. It isn’t too long after when Bellamy comes in with Octavia, who doesn’t look like she’s sick at all.

Regardless, Clarke does a number of tests on her, trying to see if she has any of the range of symptoms that keep coming out. She has Octavia pull the skin beneath her eyes down and tilt her head back to check her ose. It ends with Clarke shining a flashlight into the back of her throat, checking for sores that might produce blood.

“Okay, we’re done.” Clarke clicks it off, “No visible signs of swelling or bleeding.”

Bellamy’s rubbing his chin, “So you’re saying she doesn’t have it?”

“Don’t touch your face, Bell.” You pull at his wrist, ignoring the look he gives you for it.

“I’m saying she doesn’t have symptoms, but that could change.” Clarke says, “We need to keep her here just in case.”

“No way.” He motions to the people on the floor, “Look at this place. SHe’ll get sick just being here.”

“Do you want to stop the spread, or not?” She asks, “Look, I’ll keep her on the third level with the people who aren’t symptomatic yet. Think of it as a way to stop her from sneaking out again.”

Octavia’s face twits, “Screw you, Clarke.”

“I’ll let you know if her condition changes.” She says. 

“I’ll stay here too, to keep an eye on her.” You touch Bellamy’s arm, his expression changes entirely.

“No, I’m not letting you stay here, too. You haven’t even had contact with anyone that’s sick. You’re asking for it.” He tells you. 

“Someone needs to be in here to help them.” You raise your eyebrows. He clenches his teeth, the outline of his jaw becomes more defined, “I’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t say anything, turning around and walking straight through the curtains to the outside. You let out a sigh, moving the hair out of your face before looking back at Octavia and Clarke. 

Octavia’s done with the conversation, though, heading for the latter directly behind Clarke.

“Octavia, wait.” Clarke turns, “I need you to sneak out again.”

It doesn’t take much to convince Octavia to go and see Lincoln. She leaves immediately, and Clarke asks if you’re going to help cover her absence if Bellamy comes in questioning her. You nod, remarking that you already signed up for that when you said that you’d keep an eye on her for him.

In the meantime, you make yourself a bandana that you tie above your nose to be more careful. If they cough in your face, there’s no way for you to breathe it in, much less get the blood all over. You jump in, trying to help the best you can, moving around the room with Clarke to check on people to see if they’re okay.

The good news is, besides Derek, there’s only one other person that you find dead. She’s laying flat on her face, similar to the way Derek did when he died. You have one of the guys help you carry her out, lining her right up next to him.

“All right, show’s over. Get back to your posts.” Bellamy says, coming toward the ship, “You got enough food in there, water?”

“Yeah.” You smile.

“Some medicine might be nice.” Clarke says.

Bellamy laughs, “I’ll see what I can do.” You and Clarke turn to walk in. “Octavia, you okay?”

Your eyes slide over to Clarke, and you walk another two steps before turning like she does. She’s quiet for too long, it’s a dead giveaway that there’s something going on between you three.

“She’s sleeping.” You lie straight through your teeth, giving him a pretty smile, “We’ve got her isolated from everyone else. I’ve been watching her, as promised.”

He squints at you, watching your face, “What’s going on?”

He’s too smart for you to lie like this. You’ve got to try harder, “We—”

Clarke completely cuts you off, not bothering to keep it up, “She’s not here. I sent her to see Lincoln. Look, if there’s a cure, he has it. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let her go.”

You let out a sigh from your nose. You should’ve known that she wouldn’t actually lie to him. Bellamy glares right at you, you tilt your head at him, pressing your lips together. 

“If anything happens to her, you and me are gonna have problems.” He says, beginning to turn, “You too, (Y/n).”

“Bells.” You take a few steps down the slope.

“Bellamy!” Clarke calls.

The two of you watch him walk away. You let out a scoff, pulling the bandana down from your face, eyeing Clarke, “I thought you wanted a cover, moron.”

“There’s no point.” She mutters, voice nasally, unaffected by what you called her.

“Out of my way.” Bellamy barks. 

You and everyone else out here watch as the guy he’s talking to turns around, bloody tears streaming from his eyes. 

“Dude, your eyes!” Someone says, another pulls out his gun, aiming at him.

“Nobody touch him!”

You reach to pull the bandana up.

“Get to the drop ship, now.” Bellamy points, you watch as three other people aim their guns at the guy. He starts walking toward you two.

“Hey, are you okay?” Raven asks, you look in time to watch a girl collapse, hands covered in red. Two people move to grab her to avoid hitting the ground, and in return, she coughs a spray of blood in their faces.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s on me!”

The second guy wipes the blood from his face onto his hands, smearing it, wandering it in the direction of a few people. They all pull out their guns, aiming at him, “Get away! Get back! Get back!”

You stand in horror,w watching as the panic grows, people covering their mouths, backing away from others. More guns are being pulled, people raising their hands in defense.

“Calm down.” Bellamy orders.

“Put that gun down!” Finn shouts.

Clarke doesn’t watch for long before turning around and heading into the ship. She comes out a second later, a gun in her hand. She points the barrel up, firing three shots. All eyes hit her, silence sweeping the camp. She heads down a few steps, “This is exactly what the grounders want. Don’t you see that? They don’t have to kill us if we kill each other first.”

“They won’t have to kill us if we all catch the virus!” One of the guys shout at her, pointing the gun in her direction, “Get back in the damn dropship!”

Bellamy takes three long strides, grabbing the gun to disarm him. In the process, he slams the butt of the gun into the guys’ throat, he falls to his knees.

“Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn’t working.” Bellamy tells her.

When you look over at Clarke, you watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head, the gun beginning to fall from her hand. You jerk forward to catch her before she hits the dirt, managing to grab her arms before Finn swoops in, holding her across his arms.

“Hey, let me go. I’m okay.” Clarke breathes.

“No, you’re not.” He says.

“Octavia will come back with a cure.” She says.

“There is no cure.” Octavia jogs over, “But the grounders don’t use the sickness to kill.”

“Really? Tell that to them.” Bellamy motions to the two bodies on the ground, “I warned you about seeing that grounder again.”

“Yeah, well, I have a warning for you, too.” She says, “The grounders are coming. And they’re attacking at first light.”

She walks right past Bellamy, looking at Finn, “Come on. I’ll help you get Clarke into the dropship.”

You look at Bellamy, pulling the mask down again. He eyes for face for a long couple of seconds, “I can’t believe you let her go, knowing how I feel about them.”

You nod, making a face, “We have to take chances sometimes, you know that better than anyone else.” You cross your arms, “And for the record, if Clarke hadn’t sent her, we wouldn’t know that we’re all going to die tomorrow morning.”

Bellamy’s lips turn up slightly, “You know I’d never let them touch you.”

“I know.” You agree, beginning to back up, “I’ll keep an actual eye on her this time.”

He nods, “Be careful, please.”

“I always am.” You say, pulling the mask over your nose, heading into the dropship.

Inside, you find that Murphy’s given up his hammock so that Clarke can rest in it instead. You start to walk over, Clarke’s half-open eyes land on you. She’s pale, and you can see a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Bellamy can never stay mad at me.” You stop by her feet, “I’ll kep an eye on everyone.”

“I’ll help you.” Octavia offers. 

“Me too.” Murphy gets up from where he’s sitting. He looks at you, “I’m feeling better.”

“That’s good.” You grab the nearest cup off of a table, rinsing it in the clean bucket of water before scooping drinkable water out of a different bucket. 

The three of you work as a team to get around the room, slowly hydrating the people that can’t move because of how much pain they’re in. There’s a few instances where they’ll cough in your face, blood splattering around your eyes, but never in your mouth. You try to feed them what little food you have to offer, and then move onto cleaning faces the best you can, even though you know that they won’t stay that way for long.

By the time the sun sets, you’re the only one still consistently moving around, making beds and fluffing pillows for people to use so that they can actually rest. Clarke watches you half of the time, making sure that you’re doing everything correctly when an emergency arises. She stops trying to tell you what you should be doing when she realizes that you’re getting the job done either way.

“I’m going to take a breather.” You say, washing your face with the clean water, and then dumping a small handful of the alcohol over your hands. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Take your time.” Clarke breathes, “You’ve been doing a lot.”

“You want anything from your tent?” You ask.

“No, I’m okay.” She smiles.

You leave through the curtains, immediately pulling the bandana down so you can get a few lungfuls of fresh air. It’s hot in there from the amount of unmoving bodies. You feel sticky from the sweat and blood that clings to you desperately. You’d give anything to take a shower.

You jog down the slope and toward your tent, hoping that you’ll meet someone along the way that has good news. They’ve got a lot of people that are putting their heads together to ensure that you’ll all be safe tomorrow morning, but they haven’t shared those plans just yet.

The moon is shining exceptionally bright tonight, you don’t even need the fires that light up the path. 

Halfway through your journey, you find Jasper, talking down at the corner of some tent. You’re about to make a joke, when you see that he’s talking to someone, not himself. And when you get closer, you see that it’s Bellamy.

“Bells!” You gasp, jogging closer.

“Stay back.” He holds his hand out. You can see that there’s blood running from his nose. You reach to untie the bandana from the back of your neck, turning it into a rag. You crouch down next to him, moving his hand away to wipe the blood. He turns his head away, eyes on Jasper, “Make the shot. Find Finn, go.” 

Jasper leaves, you move the hair out of Bellamy’s face, feeling how hot his forehead is, “Can you stand?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He murmurs.

“I came out to see if you guys came up with a plan.” You say, “And because I needed a breather. It’s not easy being in there.”

“Is Octavia okay?”

“She’s fine.” You tell him, “Let’s get you up so you can see for yourself.”

Bellamy doesn’t want to touch you with his bloodied hands, so you wipe them as clean as you can. The two of you work together to get him on his feet, you pull an arm over your shoulder, trying to get him to lean on you.

“I can walk.”

“Must be why you fell over then, right?” You muse, he sucks in a breath. 

You work to get him to the ship, he’s dragging his feet, one arm wrapped around his abdomen. Everytime he teeters to one side, you have to try hard to correct it without sending you both falling over.

“Octavia!” You shout, helping him up the slope.

The curtains whip open less than a second later, taking in the sight of you two, before turning to look back inside, “Clear some space!”

Murphy jumps up to fix one of the beds, Octavia takes Bellamy’s other side, because he’s beginning to sink to the floor with each step. As soon as you get him to the end of the bed, you slowly lower him onto it, trying to be gentle.

Bellamy lays on his back, coughing up a mouthful of blood. You jerk to roll him over, watching as it all leaves his mouth, splattering onto the floor. He gags, Octavia pats his back.

“Hey, big brother.” She breathes, leaning over him.

You wipe his face with a dry rag, trying to keep the blood from running down the side of his jaw and onto his neck.

“I’m scared.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Octavia tells him. 

“That’s what I said to you the day you were born.” He’s sucking in air, having difficulty breathing. 

“I know.” She says. “You told me that, like, a thousand times.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He grabs her hand, squeezing it.

“Just get some rest now, okay?”

Bellamy nods, tears pooling in his eyes. He closes them, head turning to the side. You make eye contact with Octavia, and a silent agreement passes between you two. You nod, telling her that you’ll stay right here.

Octavia gets up to go, you sit flat on your butt, crossing your legs. You slowly run a hand through Bellamy’s hair, wiping away the tears that escape. You try humming to him, knowing that trick works every now and then. He crosses his arms over his chest tightly, so you move to unzip your jacket, laying it across his chest.

He takes your hand in his.

It isn’t too long after when he falls asleep, body relaxing. You sit over him and watch to make sure that he’s still breathing and not choking on his own bloody vomit. Murphy and Octavia take turns to help out everyone, but it seems like people keep turning them away because of how tired they are.

However, there’s a few that are coming back to life, the illness finally passing. Even Clarke begins to get restless.

It’s a few hours later when Bellamy begins to stir. You lift your head from where you have it on the bed, placing your hand on his knee. His face twists before his eyes open suddenly, searching the room for a split second, but he stops as soon as he sees you, sitting up. 

“I’ve got water.” Murphy says, coming over with a cup.

You take it from him, Bellamy glares at him, “Thanks, I’ve got it.”

“Yeah.” He watches Bellamy for a second before walking away.

You pass the cup over, rubbing Bellamy’s knee for a second. He turns his attention to you, “Have you slept?”

“Partially.” You admit, “I don’t need you worrying about me. I work the overnight shifts, this is nothing compared to how late I’ve stayed up patrolling before.”

He doesn’t argue, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, no symptoms. You look better.”

He takes a drink of the water, and then sets the cup on the floor. Clarke comes over, sitting on the bed next to Bellamy.

“Either of you seen Octavia?”

“She was up all night helping people.” You tell him, “Murphy gave her a break.”

Clarke gives him a look.

Bellamy squints at her, face twisting, “Don’t tell me you trust him now.”

“Trust? No.” Clarke looks away, “I do believe in second chances, though.”

Bellamy shakes his head, changing the topic, “It’s almost dawn. Better get everyone inside. If we lock the doors, maybe the grounders will think we’re not home.”

“Not everyone’s sick.” She says.

“Sick is better than dead.” Bellamy says.

“He’s right.” You agree.

“You don’t think Finn and Jasper are gonna pull it off.” She says, it’s not a question.

“Do you?” He asks.

She pauses for a second, “I’ll get everyone inside.”

Clarke gets to her feet, shuffling out of the dropship. You stretch, letting out a yawn.

“You should sleep, (Y/n).” He says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Should is the key word.” You say, “I’m not sleeping until everything’s settled.”

You get to your feet, tilting his head back so you can kiss his forehead, knowing better than to test your luck by aiming for his lips. He must think this is risky, because he pushes your hand away.

“Bells,” You murmur, “Stop.”

“Don’t.”

“I’ve had sick people coughing in my face all day, you think I can’t handle your germs?” You laugh, pushing his hand out of the way. You hold onto either side of his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “See?”

“Yeah.” He says, watching you sit next to him. He pulls you into his side, “Thanks for watching me all night.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

[teabutmakeitazure]

“You are so bold, Chrollo.“

“Am I?” He grins back at you, his face still resting on his palm and his elbow still on the table. You haven’t finished your dessert yet, but he already has. Perhaps that’s why he chose to strike while the iron is hot. TIming and all that.

“Well,” you drawl, taking another spoonful of cold chocolate chip goodness, “I’ve met you, what? Three times? This is the first time we’re eating together, which is only dessert by the way, and you asked me to come back home with you.”

You can see his thoughts forming and dissipating into nothingness through his eyes. Whatever he is thinking, he’s thinking thoroughly. So, when he chuckles, you can almost predict what he says next. “If dinner is what will make you say yes, then will you give me the honour of taking you out for dinner?”

“Oh? What’s this? The cold and reserved is making a move?” A giggle escapes your mouth with that, the spoon still in hand. It’s late which means there’s no one here except for you both, and you’re pretty sure the guy at the cash register behind you is rooting for Chrollo. It was easy to figure out when he put extra chocolate chips on your ice cream and winked at him when he gave him a questioning look.

Regardless, you can see the impatience in Chrollo’s eyes. He’s desperate for an answer, whatever it may be. Thus, you practise being merciful and cut his suffering short. “I wouldn’t say yes even after dinner, but I would say yes to dinner.” Going home with a stranger and into bed with them isn’t something you do. Your friends have had many experiences such as that, but you could never. There’s always the lingering fear of being taken advantage of or worse, hurt.

“Dinner it is then.” He straightens up with that, leaning back into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “When are you free? I don’t have any commitments this weekend, so perhaps that can work. If you can, that is.”

You mentally go over your schedule. You have errands to run on Sunday, but Friday evening and Saturday are free. Well, you’ll let him choose. “I can do Friday evening or Saturday. I’m free the entire day for Saturday though, so we can do lunch if not dinner.”

He chuckles at that. It sounds a bit eerie with the silence inside the establishment. “You’re now enticing me to steal your entire day. Would you mind if I kept you for the day? I promise to make it worth your while.”

“Well aren’t you greedy-” Something pricks your neck from behind and the next thing you know, words stop forming in your mouth and the spoon clatters somewhere with its fall. There is no time to process anything before darkness takes over your vision and your head nods to the side, limp. Silence settles once more before it’s broken by Chrollo sighing. “Shalnark. Do tell me why you did that.”

Said man removes the cap from his head, blond hair falling down and being smoothed over by his hand. “You were miserable, boss! You know you won’t be here this weekend. There’s no need to humour her that long.”

Chrollo doesn’t even break his gaze from your limp body. “I was going to do something similar after walking her home. No matter. This simply makes it less troublesome.”

In a matter of minutes, your lax body is in Chrollo’s arms and he starts heading outside through the back door. This outcome was inevitable. Had you said yes to him earlier, it would’ve been easier. It would have been way easier.

[citrusses]

I have reread Löyly twice already :D I even make up little headcanons about Drarry visiting London and Harry just turns up to this friends group + potentially Theo, with his new man Draco Malfoy

Thank you so much for this!! I am so happy you enjoyed the fic. I love the sound of your headcanons!!! You inspired me to write a little micro sequel… some nsfw dirty talk below the cut. Unbeta-ed and unfiltered!

Surprise!

“Did you see their faces?” Draco asks him, low and secret. Harry shivers.

“Yeah. Think they were surprised?” Harry jokes lightly.

He had meant to tell Ron and Hermione at least, before, but Iceland had flown by, and the travel back was stressful, and then all of the sudden they were home. And they only had one night in London before their Portkeys to Tokyo left the next day, so it was easier just to…. Show up together at the pub.

Draco on Harry’s arm (and a bruise he’d “forgotten” to heal on Harry’s collarbone) had done the explaining for them.

Harry really hadn’t counted on Theo being there, and with a date, no less. Harry feels mostly awkward about the whole thing.

Draco, on the other hand, is feral. He hasn’t stopped touching Harry since they got there. Nothing too overt; just a possessive hand on Harry’s waist, or picking the lint off his collar. Straightening his glasses when Ron’s hug knocked them crooked. Little things.

But Harry can see what’s simmering beneath the cloudy cover of his eyes. He knows Draco well enough now.

Harry loves it.

Draco is currently glaring at Theo, whose back is very deliberately turned to them. Harry wishes he’d just leave.

Draco puts his mouth against Harry’s ear and whispers, “I’m going to suck your dick so hard tonight that he feels it.”

Harry laughs, though his cock is stirring with interest in spite of it. “What? How? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Oh, yes it does,” Draco says, his voice that odd combination of obstinate and sultry that makes Harry want to latch onto his neck with his teeth. “Underestimate my dick-sucking prowess at your own peril, Potter.”

“And how will anyone else be impacted by this dick sucking, monumental as I know it to be?” Harry murmurs back, breath ghosting over Draco’s cheekbones. His fingers have found their way to the hem of Draco’s shirt.

Draco brings his hands on either side of Harry, pressing him against the bar. “Because,” he says slowly. “It’s going to be so good. I’ll make it so wet, and I’ll take you so deep. All you’ll know is me, and my mouth, and my fingers in your perfect little arse. And when I make you, you’re going to come so hard that the earth’s gravitational axis will shift, and they’ll all feel it. Keep up, Potter.”

Harry laughs again, though it comes out breathy and high. “That’s so cheesy,” he says. It sounds like a whine.

“If you don’t want me to—“

“Shut up,” Harry growls. He glances around for Ron and Hermione. They’re both preoccupied in conversation—and they’re all having breakfast tomorrow anyways. Leagues better than yelling at each other in a crowded pub.

They won’t mind.

“Okay,” Harry says, putting his own possessive arm around Draco. “We’re leaving now.”

[voxofthevoid]

For the ten(10) people who wanted to see Yuuji calling Sukuna slutty and to compensate for my very pissed-off posts about the latest chapter—behold, Yuuji being Weird enough to creep out a literal demon.

He tightens his hand around Sukuna’s ankle with every intention of dragging it away to somewhere less delicate—or maybe the right kind of delicate, says his dick—but like his hand’s got a mind of its own, it slides up—and up and up, till the leather gives way to…skin?

“Huh,” Yuuji says dumbly. “You’re not wearing pants.”

Sukuna blinks slowly. “You have worse problems right now, brat.”

“Didn’t say it was a problem,” Yuuji mutters, squeezing an obscenely thick calf. God, he can feel the individual muscles. “Are you wearing anything under this?”

“You—”

Yuuji checks for himself before Sukuna can really reply. It’s not like he was going to be helpful anyway.

First, there’s only darkness, the dim lighting barely reaching past the shaft of the boot and thick fabric not allowing any of it filter in through it, and Yuuji’s not really making it easier for himself by sticking his whole head in there. But his night vision comes in handy though, the shadows resolving into very obvious shapes.

He touches too, just to make sure. Shapely calves, bulging thighs, then—

His fingertips brush something soft and warm. Something that dangles pretty distinctively.

There’s a shift in the air, a tension Yuuji can feel in the muscles pressed up against his arm, and he wraps his free hand around Sukuna’s foot right as it tries in earnest to crush his throat, and it’s surprisingly easy to slip out from under it, a rough shove unbalancing the bastard enough that Yuuji can push his leg away and sit up—further into the shroud of shadows under his clothes.

He gets a faceful of balls.

From somewhere above, there’s a strangled sound.

Sukuna kicks him away, the force of it making Yuuji skid back almost to the edge of the platform. His chest hurts like a bitch too, his breaths coming out thin and wheezy, but it’s worth it for the way Sukuna backs off with a disbelieving expression.

The back of his legs hit the altar; he sits down, hard.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks Yuuji, offensively sincere.

“Me?” Yuuji sits up, grimacing when his ribs protest. He heals pretty fast, but he can tell he’ll still be feeling this tomorrow. “You’re the one walking around with nothing under that! Pervert!”

“You goddamn piece of—”

“That’s blasphemy,” Yuuji cuts in. “I think.”

“Do you?” Sukuna asks scathingly.

“I’ve been reading,” Yuuji says, nodding with way more confidence than he actually feels. He read maybe three articles. Most of them. Alright, maybe he skipped a part or ten. But he’s still sure— “You’re a very bad priest.”

Sukuna bares his teeth in what could pass for a grin if Yuuji squinted and ignored all of his common sense.

“I’ll ask again, brat,” Sukuna says, flashing those gleaming teeth in between every word, “who are you going to complain to? Your god?”

“Pretty sure it’s your god,” Yuuji says. “I’m not really religious.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a god.”

“You’re literally a priest.”

“Such delusions you have,” Sukuna murmurs, his voice and expression much calmer all of a sudden, “about the men of god.”

“Sure, whatever,” he says, choosing not to mention that he didn’t spend more than two seconds thinking about churches or priests or gods before coming here. “What I'm saying is—you’re pretty slutty for a priest.”

Sukuna’s facial muscles look like they’re having a seizure.

Yuuji scrambles onto his knees, rolling his shoulders and flexing his chest, ignoring the fresh flare of pain. He briefly considers standing up before deciding to just crawl. It’s not exactly dignified, but he kinda likes how Sukuna’s eyes widen and then narrow, boring into Yuuji with an intensity that makes his skin spark all over.

He crawls all the way to the altar and straightens into a kneeling position, putting his hands on Sukuna’s thighs for leverage he doesn’t need but wants, the power pulled taut in that flesh more seductive than Sukuna’s hooded eyes or plump lips.

Sukuna watches him like Yuuji’s a bug on his kitchen floor, but it doesn’t translate into any real violence, only a sneer that’s still slick with their mingled spit.

“I don’t mind,” Yuuji says, honest but probably a little crazy. “It’s kinda hot.”

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Ettieeeee I wanna thank the universe for making me stumble upon your blog!!! I'm obsessed with all your fics / drabbles about Richie, he's my hyperfixation rn 😭 if you're open for requests, could you pretty please with cherries on top write something where reader has been crushing on Richie for so long but she thinks he's still hung up on Tiff so she decides to move on and date around for a bit.....but then jealous!Richie pops up 🫠 I go INSANE over jealous!Richie fr!!! Thank you ilyyy ❤️❤️❤️

Awwww thank you soooo much this is so sweet!! ❤️❤️❤️ i love me some jealous Richie so yes!

------

You’d been listening to your date talk about himself for what felt like an eternity. He barely even stopped himself to ask questions about you, so you’d been nodding along while you half-dissociated.

The waitress had even gotten you a second glass of wine without you having to ask, giving you a discreet look of support upon delivery. Not that this guy would’ve noticed anyway.

What was his name again? Jason? Blake? It really didn’t matter. Reason being, none of these guys you’d been meeting could make you forget Richie Jerimovich.

Though of course, there was the painful reminder that he was emotionally unavailable. Or so you thought, given the times you’d heard him speaking about Tiffany with Sugar and Carmy.

You understood, of course, even if it still hurt. Not that he knew of your feelings towards him, but that didn’t matter. It was why you thought moving on was a worthy pursuit… at one point, at least.

You were sitting right by the restaurant’s window facing the street, so occasionally you would notice the passerby outside. Though, only out of politeness, you tried to keep eye contact with your date.

And that way, you didn’t notice that the one that was stuck in your mind was actually on the other side of the glass, aghast.

Richie couldn’t even register the sight of you on a date at first. But when he did, jealousy hit him so fiercely it almost surprised him.

“What the fuck?” He muttered.

In all fairness, what you didn’t know was that he had chickened out of asking you out a few times. He thought he’d heard about you maybe meeting someone, but he’d been too wrapped up with the restaurant’s reconstruction to really pay attention.

Though to his very mild relief, he could see that you were not having a good time. You had your chin resting on your hand, looking like you were about to fall asleep.

Scoffing, ranting under his breath about the random jagoff sitting across from you, he dialed your number on his phone before thinking twice about it.

He saw your back straighten in surprise as you mumbled an apology. You stood up quickly, almost tipping your chair in your haste, and stepped to one side.

“Hey, Richie. Is everything okay?” You said.

To hear your voice was a momentary soothing balm, making him lose a little bit of his edge. Dumbly, he realized he had to scramble for a reason to have called you.

“H-hey, uh, there was a… There was a bit of an issue at the Beef, I need someone to come help, but I couldn't get ahold of anyone! You-you're the first one to answer."

"Oh no, um, right now? I could be there in thirty minutes, I think," you said, making your words a little louder but internally relieved beyond belief to cut this date short. "What happened?"

Richie started to move away, having to rush to get there before you. "Er, it'll just be easier when you get here. It's hard to explain over the phone. Just... I'll see you in thirty minutes, okay?"

"Yes, see you!" you said, biting down a smile as you rushed back to your table. "Sorry, I have to go. Work emergency. You understand right?"

The guy blinked at you, appalled beyond words but mouth opening like a confused fish out of water. He raised his hands as if to gesture what the hell?

You grabbed your coat and your purse. "Thanks for dinner, gotta run, sorry bye!"

------

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hobie Brown helps you with The Big Chop - Hobie Brown x Black!GNReader

Hobie helps you start your natural hair journey

Fluff & Comfort / 1k words

A short fic inspired by the song 'Selfish Soul' by Sudan Archives. Because I imagine him playing this on guitar ALL the time. Hope you like :)

_______________________________________________

If I cut my hair, hope I grow it long Back long, back time like way before If I wear it straight, will they like me more? Like those girls on front covers Long hair make 'em stay little longer Stay hair, stay straight though we feel ashamed By the curls waves and natural things Curls waves and natural things

The sound of the electric razor sent a shiver up your spine.

And behind you, you could feel Hobie card his long fingers through the ends of your detangled hair.

You'd worn it straight for as long as you could remember.

"You ready?" he asked behind you. And you answer honestly.

"I don't know."

You can hear him snicker behind you, as gently he parted your hair into sections with a wide tooth comb. He said that'd make it easier.

"Have a little faith, darlin'." Hobie said. "Think I'll butcher your barnet that bad?"

"No," you said, forcing a chuckle. You can tell he's trying to lighten the mood. "It's not that."

You were sitting on the floor of the houseboat, sat between Hobie's long legs, and behind you he sat on the couch, armed with combs and hair picks - and the electric clippers.

And you wondered if it was too late to back out now.

"What if it doesn't grow back?" you asked him.

"It will." And when he said it, it sounded like a promise.

"You don't know that." you told, angling the mirror in your lap to see his face.

Side by side like this, you could see the difference - between you and him. For as long as you could remember, you'd had pressed hair. Permed, or straightened, singed under hot combs and relaxer itches you could never scratch.

Held down by sprays, slicked with greases that felt like you’d could never wash them out.

Ever since you were little.

It seemed like every year someone was trying a new flat-iron or relaxer on your head.

Perms were apart of your back to school shopping list. More than once you'd spent the night before Easter with a straightener against your head, them always wanting to 'bump the ends'.

For as long as you could remember, your hair was straight.

Your family told you it was easier that way. Sometimes, they told you it was prettier that way, looked more presentable that way.

And so you never really had a choice.

And now you were sitting here, on the floor at Hobie's, jars and bottles and oils scattered at your feet. Shea butters and curl-defining creams and hot oil treatments. Things that smelt of coconut and jojoba. Things that reminded you of Hobie.

For as long as you'd known Hobie, he'd had his wicks. A part of you couldn't imagine him without them.

Hobie wore them how he wore everything, how he did everything. With pride and with confidence, with a way that you couldn't help but admire. It was one of the reasons you loved him.

You couldn't count the nights you'd watch him in the bathroom, using everything from rose water to aloe to care for his wicks. So you had good reason to believe him when he said

"I do know that."

If anyone did, it was him.

From behind you Hobie slipped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck, and this time when you chuckled it was genuine. "How?" you asked.

"Cause, it grows out every other time you do your hair, don't it? Then three weeks later you're back to doing your bloody roots again."

Maybe he had a point.

"Touché." you said, and when he released you, you tilted your head backwards, looking at him upside down from your place on the floor. "And if it doesn't look good?"

"It's your hair." Hobie said, and the way he said it made it sound so simple.

As if nothing else mattered.

"It's your hair, treacle. And it'll look bang on because it's yours, yeah?" he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips Spider-man style. "That's all that matters, innit?"

You nodded, but you weren't so sure.

"Just trust me," Hobie told you. And you wanted to trust him. You did trust him, always.

And so you faced forward once more, and behind you, you can hear Hobie slide one of the guards onto the razor, testing it one more time. And when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you wondered if you be like him one day.

You wondered if one day, your natural hair would be a part of you, the way his wicks were a part of him.

"You know," you said. "I've never even seen it before." Your hair, all by itself. Without an apology, without an 'excuse'.

Hobie chuckled. "Mad that." he said, and you could tell he was smiling.

"You ready?" he asked.

You didn’t feel ready. But you said it anyway. "I'm ready."

Hobie clicked the razor on.

You pressed your hands to your eyes, as Hobie rested the ravor against the base of your head. And with a slow stroke upwards, you could hear when the razor began to cut.

It felt too real.

"Breathe, luv." Hobie said, voice quiet in focus.

And until then, you hadn't noticed you were holding your breath.

You sucked in a deep breath. You tried not to think about the sound of the cutting, or the humming of the electric razor against your head.

The first strands began to fall to your lap.

Hobie goes slow, and after the first pass, he paused just for a moment, his hand on your shoulder “You doing alright, darlin’?”

You don't answer right away, fingers pressed to your eyelids. "Yeah."

And when you said it, you hadn't realized how close to a sob you were. You hadn't noticed the tears that had fought their way to your eyes.

It felt bittersweet, looking down at the hair in your lap. It felt scary.

It felt good, too.

He gives you a moment, and you took the chance to sniffle. To take a breath. The hair felt like it weighed nothing, and it did weigh nothing. But it felt like letting go of so much.

Like a burden off your shoulders, literally.

"Keep going?"

You knew you couldn't turn back now. But if you needed a moment, if you wanted to - Hobie would stop, he'd take a break. He'd listen.

When years before as a kid, no one would. It's like for once in your life, you had a say in your hair.

"Yeah." you said. "Yeah, keep going."

For a moment Hobie doesn't say anything, only pressing a kiss to the side of your head, before he clicked the clippers on again. ________________________________________________

'Cause I don't want no struggles, I don't want no fears I don't want no struggles, I don't want no fears I don't want no struggles, I don't want no Does it make sense to you Why I cut it off? Okay, one time if I grow it long Am I good enough? Am I good enough? About time I embrace myself and soul Time I feed my selfish soul

[Cockney Key: Barnet - Slang for ‘Hair’ / Treacle - Short for Treacle Tart, Rhyming slang for ‘Sweetheart’]

[restlessmaknae]

read your mind [intak]

Intak might not have been able to die, but you could read his mind. Quite literally. No wonder it led to many annoying, awkward and even sweet realisations.

➳ Characters: Intak x female!mind-reader reader/you

➳ Genre: action, dystopian au (loosely based on 'P1H: The beginning of the new world' movie), superpowers au

➳ Words: 7.2k

➳ Warning: mentions of blood, death, knives, breaking bones, wound treating, losing parents

➳ A/N: This is my contribution to my own P1Harmony writing collab called '(dis)harmony' featuring stories revolving around the theme 'disrupted harmony'. Check out the other stories here!

➳ P1Harmony taglist: @dat-town, @tranquilpetrichor, @laaylaazyy, @americanokisses, @kuleo26, @hyu-won, @wccycc, @sunooslover, @littlestartonightsposts, @koishua

➳ Check out: my P1Harmony masterlist

You took your headphones off and let it rest around your neck as you turned a corner. There was no one around as expected, and this way, the noises in your head could finally shut up. Embracing the serenity of this moment, you listened to your footsteps echo off the ground as you took confident steps towards the abandoned, graffiti-tinted walls - aka your temporary home.

The metal stairs under your feet screeched as you made your way to the entrance and you halted when you noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Even though it had been a frequent sight to see it open before you had decided to live (or rather hide) here, you had always kept it closed ever since. Which meant that someone had to be in there.

Alert, you reached for the knife tucked into your boots, and pressed the door just on the right spot, so that it wouldn’t make noise as you pushed it open. As soon as you stepped inside (thus closer to the intruder), you could hear the thoughts racing in his head, mostly marvelling at the mapped out possibilities in your notebook based on the clues you had been gathering in the past few days.

You moved swiftly and quietly and after considering his build and his current posture - he was leaning towards your computer which meant that he was significantly shorter with his arched back, thus easier for you to corner him. He was also pretty oblivious, still wondering who could have left these things behind, so he had no chance to hear your approaching footsteps, he was so focused on piercing together what he saw in front of him.

As you stepped up to him, your arms closed around him, and you pointed your knife to his chin - a warning, not yet an attack. It was enough for him to stiffen, yet he didn’t risk straightening his back.

“Wow, easy, dude, I’m-” He exclaimed surprisingly casually, and you felt the need to scoff.

“What are you doing here? Why are you here?” You cut him off as soon as you could, straight to the point as always.

Oh shit, she’s not even a dude, he thought, and you rolled your eyes. So predictable to underestimate a girl like you.

“Yesterday, I saw you torn a Harmony sticker off the walls before following you back here, and thought that you might have a special ability, too, and you’re searching for them, but I thought that you are a guy,” he reasoned, still too calm for your liking. Disregarding the fact that he thought you could be a guy in your black hoodie, black sweatpants and your black unisex boots that you usually went out in, especially at night, you kept your tone stern and warning as you spoke up.

“Or I could be searching for people with special abilities, and I could kill you right here and right now.”

“Haha, nice one, girl.”

He had the nerve to laugh which annoyed you even more, so you held the knife closer to his skin, so close that it could be piercing his skin if you let it kiss his skin even closer.

“The problem is, I can’t die.”

I’ve got her, it seems. Now, who’s laughing?

“What?” Your eyes widened, the word rolling off your tongue in disbelief. What on earth…

I know that surprise. Huh, why can’t people believe that I can’t die? Am I too handsome for that?

His thoughts proved to you that he was telling the truth because if people lied to your face, they were hoping that you would buy it in their thoughts, they didn’t continue having thoughts that could prove their innocence because they had no idea that you could read their mind. 

“That’s my special ability,” he broke it down to you nevertheless, and you had no reason not to believe him, and yet. Was he immortal then?

And I wonder what is yours, you heard his thoughts, but you decided not to tell him what you could do because it was your advantage, your strength against him. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish when someone spoke up and when you heard their thoughts, but when you could read people’s mind, it was like a grumble, a ghostly voice in your head that echoed through your brain - or so it seemed even though there weren’t good enough words to describe what it felt like reading people’s mind.

Putting aside his curiosity, you pondered out loud, testing the waters as your grip around the knife didn’t loosen.

“So I can’t even cut you, I assume.”

“I guess you can, but even if I break a bone or two, I’m back to my healthy, unwounded self within a minute,” he responded just as casually as he did so far, but now you could put a finger on his laid-back self. You guessed that since getting hurt wasn’t an option for him, he feared nothing. Huh, guess some people had it better than others when it came to their special ability.

There was no point in holding the knife to his chin anymore, so you took a step back and retreated, letting the guy straighten up and turn towards you. He was definitely taller like this, messy, slightly curly locks sitting on top of his head, fringe in his eyes, a cheeky smile pulling his lips upwards, his whole posture radiating casualty.

Oh wow, she’s pretty, the boy thought, and you rolled your eyes.

“I guess you aren’t after people with special abilities if you let me go now. So, what do you think about teaming up?” The boy suggested as he lowered to sit on the desk. Despite the fact that it wasn’t your desk as per se since you had assembled this room from all the furniture that had been left here, it still bugged you that he was sitting so casually as if he owned the place.

You let out a huff, bewilderment an understatement to say how you felt.

“Why would I do that?”

“You can use me as a shield. I can’t die as I’ve mentioned.”

“What would you gain from teaming up with me? What’s your motif?” You turned the question around because it was all good that he couldn’t die, so you could push him out to quite literally bite the bullets for you, but why was he really here?

“I’ve told you. I’m also searching for the Harmony bungalow or base or whatever we want to call it, and I think two is better than one. You seem pretty fierce for one, so whether you have super strength or something, I feel like I could also gain something from this partnership,” he reasoned, ruffling his hair at the end as if he wanted to charm you.

She can’t say no to this. I’m even using my puppy eyes, it’s always working.

Bingo. A few minutes with this guy, and you could already tell just what kind of a guy he was. Despite the tempting offer to use him as a human shield, you didn’t have time to strike deals with guys like him.

“As you can see, I’ve been doing just fine up until now, so I don’t need your help,” you told him in a condescending tone, and pushed his shoulder to prompt him to stand up from the desk. The boy didn’t budge, instead, when you reached for his shoulder for the third time, he grabbed your wrist - gently yet firmly -, and turned your body towards his.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he voiced out, serious for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. There was a few seconds of silence that hung over the two of you while he was thinking: should I tell her about my family? About how they died because of me? Or would she not believe me? How can I make her believe me then? I thought I would be able to convince her with just the fact that I can’t die.

Your heart churned at the thought of him losing his family - probably because of who he was and what he was. A monster, a freak or a god. It depended on what stories you listened to, what kind of people you talked to. There had been a huge meteor shower two months ago that had killed many, but it had also left many with special abilities. There were rumours about people being able to fly or run super fast or create illusions, and then it seemed that he couldn’t die, and you could read people’s minds.

However, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for those affected no matter how many kids called special abilities cool. The government was searching for those with special abilities because they deemed them dangerous (and probably because they wanted to control them), and they did whatever it took to hunt them down. That’s why you had run away from home as well. You had known what your parents had been thinking about the whole situation, and even though you hadn’t told them that you could read minds, you had left, saying that it was better for everyone.

Ever since then, you had been on the run, but the frightened thoughts of your parents from the hospital were still hunting you.

What if she is lying, and she is also one of them? What if they come for her? Your mother had thought, and it had broken your heart not to tell her the truth, but you had put the pieces together quickly. You had been in a coma for three weeks as one of the meteors had hit the supermarket you had been at, and whilst unconscious, you had merely thought that you could hear others talk around you in the hospital ward. Yet, as soon as you had woken up, you had realised that you had heard their thoughts in your head, not only the words spoken out loud.

Considering your own experience and the way he was pondering about his own family’s tragedy in his thoughts, tormented whether he should tell you about that to convince you, you broke the silence:

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you told him, looking away for a moment to avoid seeing that wide grin spread across his lips like honey before looking back at him. “Now, let me go,” you demanded as you turned your gaze towards his fingers around your wrist. He formed an O with his mouth, clearly bewildered that he was still holding your hand, and after he let go, you set some rules.

You told him to follow your words and not go out doing god knows what all on his own without discussing it with you beforehand, you told him that he should help you out as much as he could and share his own clues about the Harmony base, and you also told him to stop babbling if you asked him to. Plus, you told him not to do stupid stuff because you believed him, you believed the fact that he couldn’t die.

“Noted?”

“Noted,” he bobbed his head fervently like an excited puppy. In the next moment, he opened his mouth, then closed it a few seconds later without muttering a single word. Your reply came in a package with a questioning quirk of your eyebrows and a weary question:

“What is it?”

“The thing is…” God, I’m so stupid, I think she would say no if I told her about it… “I think the government is after me.”

“No shit, Sherlock. They are after all of us,” you rolled your eyes instantly since it was a known fact that they were after all of you who had special abilities. You felt the urge to laugh into his face, but his facial expression was rather guilty - to follow up the puppy metaphor, he seemed like a puppy that had gotten caught breaking a vase and now he looked at you with a tremendous amount of pleading in his eyes.

“Maybe I did try to see if I can’t die a bit too many times, and they have caught onto that, so I’m actually on the run, not just looking for a partner in crime.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have tried jumping off high buildings too many times in the areas where there are CCTVs. In retrospect, it wasn’t the best way to test my powers.

You let out a long sigh, the added thoughts going through his head proving that he was telling the truth. You shook your head a few times before taking a seat beside the desk, looking ahead of yourself for a few seconds that he interrupted only with his thoughts.

What is going on? Will she tell me to go to hell? Will she slap me?

“It’s not like I’m not on the run,” you announced before grabbing the notebook on the desk and opening your laptop, showing him the clues you had been gathering about where this base could be, and how you could get there.

Whether only you were wanted by the authorities or he was too, it didn’t really matter. Though you definitely didn’t think that he was that serious about his warning, and that he was that sought after, the government-sent men showed up a few hours later, and it didn’t turn out to be a peaceful encounter…

Your fingers were itching, you really felt like you were going somewhere with the clues the Harmony base had left behind. Usually, they left behind stickers with numbers or words at random places, so the clues could be taken off before someone from the authorities found them. On the other hand, for it to be safe, they probably had to change bases periodically because once you had thought you had found them, but all you had found was an empty warehouse and traces of paper, smoke and crumbs. Afterwards, the numbers and words of the clues had also changed, but the rumours stayed the same: that there was a base where people with special abilities could train together and be united. Something that you all probably longed for.

You were just about to put your clues together with a possible map of a district in Southern Seoul when you heard footsteps echoing off the metal stairs outside. You exchanged a glance with Intak - who didn’t fail to mention his family name when he introduced himself, Hwang as in king, and he said it so proudly as if you couldn’t understand what Hwang meant - before you closed your laptop, threw it into your bag alongside your notebook with the stickers and notes. Then, you reached for the knife in your boots and whispered to Intak that he should get something, too.

“But I don’t have anything,” he mouthed back, and you sighed, quickly reaching into your bag to get out another knife. The boy gave you an almost intimidated glance before he took it, but he didn’t have time to be horrified because the door flew open, and two broad-shouldered men stepped inside in what looked like soldier uniforms.

In the dim light of the lamp on the desk, you could only take out the outline of their features, nothing else, but their outfit was enough to believe that they were coming for you, and they weren’t just random dudes scaring off youngsters at an abandoned house.

“Now, if you cooperate with us, no one gets hurt,” one of the men spoke in an almost mellifluous way. It gave you the creeps, let alone the way his lips curled upwards as if he was looking at his prey with a victorious smile.

You knew that the quickest way to escape was to go outside through the doors, but the men were still standing there as if they actually believed you would change your mind, and other than that, you could only go upstairs to the rooftop or jump out of the window. The window option didn’t seem that appealing, so when the men walked towards you two, you spun the knife in your hand before aiming at the mellifluously speaking man’s arm.

He was taken aback by your quick reflexes and blood trickled down his arm immediately, but the sight infuriated him, and he became like a destroyer machine, breaking stuff around him and launching himself at you as if he wanted to squash you. You turned, rolled on the floor, kicked and cut him with your knife wherever you could, but he was too strong, so at one point, you had to use a bit of planning, and smash his head against the edge of the desk to slow him down, so you could save some time to run towards the door.

Just as you were about to run towards the door, you saw Intak running up the stairs, and you cursed under your breath. You couldn’t leave him alone, but fighting on the rooftop was the worst possible option even though you knew he couldn’t get seriously hurt. On the other hand, he didn’t even seem skilled enough to fight someone, and you heard his frantic thoughts in your head as you ran up the stairs after him and the man chasing him: Oh my god, no, I can’t do this. I was a lazybum during PE too, why is this Terminator guy so quick? Damn it…

The man obviously had thoughts about not letting this kid (as he called Intak) have his way, and he also thought that the boy would fit in well with the other monsters at the prison. To which, you couldn’t help but wonder if they really kept people like you in prisons? The thought itself made you so angry that when you reached the two of them on the rooftop, you kicked into the man’s back with more strength than you thought you possessed.

“Nice kick, girl!” Intak hollered, almost excited, and you could afford a semi-smile before the ground slipped from beneath your feet. You landed on your back with a loud thud, your bag sliding down to your arms. The worrying thoughts that went through Intak’s head with the man’s victorious thoughts going through his head at the same time was more painful. The more people’s thoughts you could hear around yourself, the more it felt like your head was aching, so it was harder to concentrate and now it was harder to think about your next move.

Your vision shifted and spun like a carousel for a few seconds before it came back to normal. You felt Intak’s hands reaching for yours, and you grabbed them, pushing yourself off the ground with your free hand.

“You shouldn’t have come up to the rooftop. This was the stupidest option,” you reprimanded him in between shallow breaths before turning around to face the man who had made you fall.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what to do,” Intak justified, rather hurt, before you could hear his thoughts as clearly as ever: Besides, I have an idea, but I’m not sure she would consider it a good one.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you swang your knife at the man who dodged your move. He was much better than the other man, and he was even stronger, so when he managed to knock the knife out of your hand with a well-aimed kick, you cursed under your breath. You fought a lot better with a knife than with your bare body, and it didn’t help that you heard Intak’s frantic thoughts at the same time as the man’s - the two had totally opposite thoughts, and with the adrenaline working hard in your system, it was difficult to shut them off. When you were calm and composed, you could tame the voices or at least the volume of them, but not when you were in the middle of a fight…

“Whatever idea you have, Intak, do it now!” You grumbled frantically as you started taking steps backwards, trying to get out of the man’s way, especially after he managed to snatch the knife out of Intak’s hand, too.

“Little kids like you should know when to give up,” the man sneered through gritted teeth, his voice resembling a psychopath’s. Maybe you two were the odd ones out with Intak, but he was definitely the more dangerous one here.

Okay, here we go, Intak thought before you could feel him touch you from behind. Before you could realise what he was about to do, he practically gave you a back hug before taking a few quick steps towards the edge and taking you with him. Then, it felt like flying - you could see the cloudy sky above with darkening patches on the horizon, the edge of the building you had just jumped from and the man’s bewildered expression. You were both super fast and super slow as you were carried by gravity, Intak’s body reaching the ground first, then yours.

Even though Intak took the fall instead of you (you landed as if he was a pillow beneath you), your teeth clinked together and the landing’s effect reverberated through your spine, making you dizzy and a bit light-headed. Your vision yet again lost sight of colours for a few seconds before you managed to come back to your senses. You had just jumped off that building. To be precise, Intak had jumped off and pulled you with him which was the stupidest and the smartest idea at the same time.

Yet, despite knowing that he couldn’t get seriously hurt, when you heard him grumble beneath you, you immediately rolled off him, and crouched beside him. There was blood oozing out from his head, and the sight of it scared you, so much that you found yourself reaching for his chest, to feel his heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” You found yourself asking despite the fact that it was the most unreasonable question to ask him given the circumstances. He was blinking rapidly, looking around himself, and when his eyes closed in on you, he blinked a few more times. Then, he caught sight of your hands on his chest, and there it was, that cheeky smile of his…

“You should have asked me if you wanted to touch me so bad,” he mentioned, his voice uncharacteristically low, and you felt the need to punch him. That annoying jerk.

She is cute when she’s worried, he thought, and you were about to open your mouth to say that you weren’t cute, but then you realised that it wasn’t coming from his mouth, it was merely what he was thinking. So you shut your mouth, and instead, pulled the boy towards you, helping him to get up. However, he lost his balance for a moment, and you nearly fell upon him, but he held you up, strong and steady.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you could only blink at him. The closeness, the physical touches and the worried thoughts going through his head whether you hurt yourself and whether that fall on the rooftop had been excruciating pained you and mended your heart all at the same time. There were no remains of the cheeky smile from before, there was no mischief glinting in his deep mahogany-brown eyes, there was nothing but worry invading his thoughts, and if anything, that just scared you even more. He shouldn’t have cared about anyone he had just met a few hours ago to that extent, yet… you were the same…

As if woken from a stupor, the noise of the outside world reached you, and you immediately stumbled to your feet, the boy doing the same. Then, you two just ran, and you didn’t even realise he was still holding your hand until you reached a corner and he turned sooner than you could have done so. He still didn’t let go of you, merely pulled you with him, and you followed him even though you had no idea where you were going. Just away from the danger, away from yet another temporary home…

After the meteor shower that had led to people developing special abilities, a lot of buildings were left mildly or gravely damaged. Some were taken care of, some were in the middle of construction, and a lot of them were still abandoned, left in their spooky and semi-equipped state. You didn't know whether it was because the ones who had been living there were not so lucky and passed away in the meteor shower (or they were still in a coma), or it was because nobody cared to rebuild them instead of finding a new home, but you were lucky in the sense that you could go from one abandoned building to another, finding shelter. There were a few that homeless people occupied, but there were always some that were left uninhibited.

When you reached one after running for so long, you walked around the building to make sure that nobody else was there, then you plopped down on the dusty couch, finding solace in stillness. Intak followed your example, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his jacket.

You hadn’t known him for long, but you could already tell that silence was scarce around him. He was usually determined to break it and fill it, but now, neither of you seemed to find the right words to say. So you merely sat there for a few minutes, catching your breath and thinking of ways to move forward.

Surprisingly, you were the first to speak up.

“You know, going to the rooftop was the stupidest idea. You should have just left through the front door while I was taking care of the other man,” you pointed out in case you two will ever have a fight like that again. Hearing your words, the boy puckered his lips like an offended child and his voice was slightly higher when he spoke up.

“Well, sorry, I panicked, that was the only thing that came to my mind. I’m not as smart as you are, and I’m not as good of a fighter as you are, you could see that.”

Still, I’m glad that we are both safe. Even with my stupidest idea, he thought to himself, and you could hear the sulkiness in his voice - both when he said the words out loud and when you heard his voice in your thoughts. With his big doe eyes, boyish features, messy locks and puckered lips, he really did resemble a child. Or a puppy that was left alone for too long.

“Don’t be sulky. I was saying it, so that we wouldn’t run into something like this in the future.”

“I’m not sulky.”

“Yes, you are,” you insisted, a smile already making its way onto your lips as you watched his facial expression change from apparently sulky to defensive and then to resigned. He was such an open book, you could tell how he was feeling just by a glance at him.

God, are we really going to pick a fight over this when we managed to escape the men? I know I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but still… I saved her.

You had to give it to him that he was right. He did save you, and you would say that he had sacrificed himself for you if you hadn’t known that he couldn’t die. Still, it was sort of like sacrificing himself for you. You hadn’t been around anyone else, let alone someone like an ally for the past month ever since you had left home, so having him around felt like a burden and a relief. A burden because now you couldn’t help but worry about his safety (despite knowing that he couldn’t die), and a relief because it was more bearable going through something like this together. You weren’t even sure that you could have escaped the men from before if he hadn’t been there. You had managed to fight a man before, but he had been alone then, and he had been rather inadequate to fight, thus you had managed to escape him almost easily.

Knowing what Intak was thinking and seeing how he was still like a pouty kid, you cleared your throat.

“Well, thanks anyways,” you broke the silence, and given his wide-eyed stare, you added. “For saving me back there.”

What? Did she change her mind? What’s with the mood suddenly?

“You’re welcome, I guess?” Intak replied cautiously, and his answer was more like a question. Even his thoughts mirrored his uncertainty: What am I supposed to say to that? I didn’t prepare for a thanks from her.

There was a kind of a solemn mood blanketing you two after your little banter, and you could hear based on his thoughts how he wanted to break the silence, but he didn’t know what he could possibly bring up. On the other hand, you had a question that had been floating in your head ever since you had gotten to know about his special ability, so you decided to ask about it.

“How are you so sure that you will survive each and every time you’re supposed to die? Is there really no way for you to die?”

“I don’t really know. I fell from pretty high the first time I died, and I should have probably broken a few bones and thrown out my shoulder and stuff, but I still managed to put myself together afterwards. I don’t know how and why, I’m just as clueless as you are,” came the answer almost immediately, and you could see sincerity reflected in his warm brown orbs.

When you had met him that morning, he had seemed like your typical popular boy at school. The fact that he was wearing sweatpants, a loose tee and a bomber jacket as if he had just come from the gym didn’t help either. He had that cheeky smile plastered onto his face, and he had seemed rather carefree and careless. Now, you could tell that he didn’t think of his special ability as something cool, no matter how much he had made it seem like in the beginning. Uncertainty was scary, and even though you weren’t fully aware of the characteristics of your mind-reading ability, his case must have been even more difficult.

“Isn’t it scary? Dying over and over again?” You couldn’t help but ask. His demeanour didn’t waver, but you could see a hint of surprise flash across his orbs.

Huh, is she worried about me? Has she warmed up to me to care about whether it is scary for me to die again and again?

You could have easily rolled your eyes upon hearing his thoughts, but since he didn’t appear cocky, you didn’t feel like doing so. Instead, he remained cool on the surface and shrugged his shoulders.

“The first two times, it was scary. Ever since then, it’s not that bad.”

Besides, this time, I had to save us. I had to save you. I didn’t think about anything else.

You froze for a moment there. Sure, you had been worried about him during the fight, you had thought about his safety as well, but you wouldn’t have expected such thoughts from him. He was apparently more mature and responsible than you would have thought so, not that you would let him know that you felt this way.

Brushing off his words echoing in your head and the flashbacks of his hands on your hands, you suggested talking about what you were supposed to do next, and that you should probably grab some food afterwards. You ended up eating first, then plotting some plans because Intak was also really hungry. He went to grab some food from the nearby supermarket (taking your safety tips into consideration about how to appear less on CCTVs and such), and then, you were hunched over your notes and maps while having a pretty dry yet edible sandwich. Definitely not the way you would have thought this day would end, but you didn’t mind.

Actually, Intak was pretty useful when it came to the clues. He might not have been able to read maps, but he had that outside-of-the-box thinking that made you realise that the seemingly random letters you had found on one sticker could indicate that they were coded, and you had to translate them to their corresponding number in the English alphabet. You assumed that they were the acronyms for a street or a district name, but once you had the encryption done, they turned out to be GPS coordinates. It fit well with the map you had been working on and the text that was only visible in the dark that said: follow the fences. According to the map you had found, it was supposed to be a huge empty place, the remains of a firm built a few decades ago, probably behind high fences.

Needless to say, it didn’t take you only a day to put your clues together, so you had to spend some time together with the boy which made you feel uneasy in the beginning. However, apart from a few jokes about sleeping together (as in under the same roof before anyone could misunderstand) and his usual (now trademark) cheeky smiles, he wasn’t that unbearable. Besides, you could read his mind, so he didn’t have a lot of secrets in front of you, let it be his opinion on the bibimbap you got him from the store or how much he hated riddles and felt stupid when he couldn’t help with the clues. You felt the need to reassure him time and time again that he wasn’t stupid, and that he helped immensely, and you expected him to be all smug about it, but he was rather touched to hear your soothing words.

However, being the target of the government due to your special abilities meant that you had to be on the run whether they found out about your hideout place or not. You had to fight a few more officials and flee from another place before you could put together the clues, and this fight resulted in a few injuries on your part. You insisted that you could take care of them, but you had a big cut from a glass window that scratched your back, so you had to let Intak disinfect it. It didn’t help that you could hear his concerned (and panicky) thoughts running through his head, and his self-blame resurfaced with the thoughts.

“Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault,” you told him between two hisses, and you thought that he would catch onto you reading his mind, but he didn’t. Despite the fact that he seemed innocent and he was definitely harmless, there was no right time or right place to tell him about your ability, especially when you were on the run, so you didn’t. One day, you would do so.

“But it bugs me that I can’t die and can’t get hurt, but you can. I wish I could have a power that lets me heal others, not just myself,” he responded firmly, and his sincere confession took you aback. You felt your heart beat against your rib cage in a rather panicked rhythm, the rhythm of your confusion and gratitude and… was that affection? You cared about him, he genuinely cared about you just as this confession proved you, but could it be something else?

You didn’t have time to ponder over it because the boy put the antiseptic on an untreated part of your cut, and the pain erased all questions from your head. You winced, letting the agony wash over you in waves before you finally finished, but that one question stayed in the back of your mind even after it was over, even days after when you put the clues together and you were about to leave for Harmony base (hopefully) with all the (little amount of) belongings you had on you.

You were careful about how you were going there, changing clothes from the last time the officials had ambushed your hideout place, but you couldn’t appear panicked because that would draw more suspicion than anything else. So you casually hopped on the bus, then the metro, and walked towards the abandoned factory. Indeed, there were an awful lot of fences that led to the firm’s front door, and as you looked around, you caught sight of a few cameras. Could they be government-related cameras? Or could the ones at Harmony base monitor who were circling around the base? It even crossed your mind that it could be a trap after all, but you hoped that it wasn’t a trap after everything you had gone through to get here.

You knew that Intak had the same thoughts, though he was eerily quiet beside you. He was scared and hopeful at the same time according to his thoughts, but when you reached the front door of the firm, he reached for your arm and pulled you behind him. Bewildered was an understatement to describe how you felt even though it was true that he couldn’t get hurt, so if things went south, he could still let you have enough time to run away if he was, for instance, stabbed. Not that you would leave him there on his own. After all, who knew what they would do to him?

“Should I just knock? Or should we wait for them to come outside?” Intak inquired rather conflicted, and you didn’t know what would be better, so you suggested knocking.

He knocked a few times, but only silence remained.

“Do you think we came to the wrong place? I was so sure about the encryption though,” the boy mentioned sulkily, and turned towards you with a pout. He was pretty cute when he was pouting.

“Even though this is not the Harmony base, we’ve tried to find and put the clues together. That’s what matters,” you pointed out with a half-smile. “Maybe they’ve already left,” you reasoned, hoping not to crush whatever hope he had left in him. You still had the chance to open the door yourself, but before you could do so, the door flew open, and a grey-haired boy stepped outside.

“We’ve heard your conversation, and you’ve come to the right place,” he announced in a theatrical manner, even going as far as bowing towards you two. Then, he reached for Intak’s wrist, closed his eyes, and did… nothing for a few seconds. “You pass,” he announced after opening his eyes, but Intak didn’t budge, still sheltering you from the front.

You were utterly confused as to what was going on because even the thoughts of the grey-haired boy seemed genuine. He was thinking how lucky they were that two more people with special abilities could join them, and that their clues didn’t seem that difficult this time. So he wasn’t just acting nice, he was a part of Harmony base, but still… What was with the wrist touching?

“Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Keeho, and I can sense who has a special ability and who doesn’t, but in order for me to do that, I need to touch them. Just a bit though,” he introduced himself cheerily, a wide smile plastered onto his face. He looked at you peeking out from behind Intak with an expectant smile, and you exchanged a glance with your partner in crime before reaching out your wrist and letting the so-called Keeho touch it.

He was gentle though, and his hand was off your wrist in no time, letting you pass as well. He beckoned you two inside, and despite the first few minutes that you spent looking around and trying to make sure that you weren’t dreaming, you finally managed to believe that you had found Harmony base. You did it. Especially when you met more people with special abilities, some were in the midst of training their telekinesis or what seemed like super strength, others had special labs in which they put together or grow stuff, and it was so cool and so reassuring. They were all just like you. You belonged here.

Intak felt the same joy because he swept you off your feet (quite literally) and spun you around while hugging you.

“We did it,” he hollered cheerfully before putting you down and letting you escape his grip. You didn’t do so. You just stared at him, smiley and wide-eyed, your heart jumping up and down in exhilaration. Intak did the same, and this moment seemed so fragile, something that you would like to embrace and keep close to your heart for the future. You really did it.

I want to kiss her so bad, but I’m afraid she will slap me in the face if I do so. You heard Intak’s words in your head, and you couldn’t help but let out a light-hearted laughter.

“I won’t”, you said as you pulled on his shirt and pulled him closer, your lips crushing against his. It was swift and sweet, and Intak definitely didn’t see it coming despite his own thoughts of kissing you because he gaped like a fish after you let go of him.

“What? What did you mean by you won’t?” He blinked at you, totally confused, and you shrugged your shoulders in response. Seeing his utter confusion though, you decided to let him in on the secret.

“That I won’t slap you.”

“But I didn’t… I didn’t say it out loud, did I?” He looked so perplexed as if he actually believed that he did say it out loud without him knowing. It was so him, your smile only grew wider before the confession.

“You didn’t, but I can read your mind. That’s my special ability.”

If he was gaping before, now his jaw was hanging open. He couldn’t close his mouth for a few more moments, but when he did so, he started blabbering about it - if you could read his mind all the time (yes), if you had heard all of his thoughts when he thought that you were pretty and cool and badass (yes, you did), and that if you knew he liked you, why didn’t you act (because you weren’t sure about your own feelings towards him).

“But now you are?” Intak blinked at you, a hint of hope flashing across his warm, mahogany-brown orbs. No words were needed to confirm it, you merely nodded and pulled him in for another kiss, and he wasn’t that taken aback this time. He rather enjoyed it which you knew because his thoughts were full of you.

You were sure though that if he could read your mind, he would say the same.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for P1Harmony or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[kueble]

Blossoms

This was written for the @witcher-bows-and-arrows prompt: Romantic.  It’s very silly and lighthearted, so I hope you enjoy it.

Explicit. Warnings: None. 3,100 words.

Geralt/Jaskier

---

Jaskier is at his wit’s end.

How can one man - one who has been alive over a hundred years - be so gods-damned stupid?  Jaskier has tried everything he can think of to woo him: providing romantic candlelit dinners, serenading him beneath the full moon, gifting armfuls of trinkets.  Hell, he even rubbed chamomile oil onto his bare ass!  Either Geralt is the most idiotic witcher to ever live, or he is being purposefully dense.

Jaskier decides to go back to the basics, to keep things simple.  Geralt is off hunting for their dinner, so he is left alone with Roach to set up the campsite.   He makes quick work of it, cutting corners here and there, and then backtracks to the field of wildflowers they walked past earlier.  The sun hasn’t set yet, and the field looks gorgeous all lit up in the late afternoon sun.

He’s pretty sure artists refer to this as the golden hour, which is fitting since he’s here to gather a bouquet for his golden-eyed love.  He twists the phrase around in his mind, trying to piece together a song, but nothing sounds quite right.  There’s a melody behind it, though, so he ends up humming to himself while he gathers the prettiest blossoms he can find.

There was going to be a theme - reds and pinks for love - but all the different flowers look so stunning swaying with the gentle breeze that he ends up with an armful of a little bit of everything.  Rather than put the bouquet together here, he makes his way back to camp.  It’s a pleasant walk, especially with the fragrant blooms held against his chest.

Only a complete fool would ignore such a lovely gesture.

Geralt isn’t back yet, so he gently sets down his plunder next to his bedroll.  He drags his pack over, digging through it for the rest of what he needs.  It takes him a moment to find the scrap of twine he saved for this purpose, but he emerges with a triumphant shout.  Roach snorts at him, so he just blows her a kiss and gets to work.

The sun starts setting as Jaskier slowly pieces together the bouquet, making sure the best flowers are showcased in the front.  He ends up starting over a few times when one color clumps together, but it just makes him more determined to get this perfect.  His tongue sticks out between his lips as he bends over his lap and painstakingly creates a masterpiece.

Once the twine is wrapped around the bunch of flowers, he holds it in one hand and twirls it slowly to see if it is as beautiful as he hoped.   Turns out it’s even more gorgeous than planned, so he dips his head down with a grin to inhale the sweet scent of the colorful blossoms.  He hears Geralt stomping back towards the campsite, so he jumps to his feet and holds the gift in front of him.

“Welcome back!” he chirps as Geralt tosses a couple of pheasants down at his feet.  He grimaces and steps over them so he can stand in front of Geralt.

“What’s this?” Geralt asks, tilting his head in that adorable way he always does when humanity confuses him.  Jaskier ignores the way his chest tightens at the look and presents the flowers with a dramatic little bow.

“I picked these for you, my dear.  I thought a man such as yourself might appreciate the simple beauty in everyday things, since you are in fact beautiful each and every day,” Jaskier says, holding out the bouquet for Geralt to take.  There’s a beat of silence and then Geralt grunts and accepts the gift.

This is it!  He’s going to realize that Jaskier’s heart beats for him and him alone.  Surely he’ll swoon and admit his own feelings.  Jaskier looks up at him with the most earnest look he can manage only to see Geralt frowning at the gift.

“This is very helpful, but it would have been easier to sort them for potions if you had grouped them by flower,” Geralt mumbles before reaching out to pat Jaskier on the head.  He straightens up, ready to shout at how absurd this all is, but Geralt is already halfway across the campsite, the lovely bundle of flowers tucked under his armpit.

Jaskier has no idea how he fell in love with such an uncaring brute of a man.

His heart hardens as he watches Geralt pluck a fat blossom from the bouquet and feed it to Roach.  Clearly the feeling in his gut isn’t love but simply indigestion.  With a huff, he bends down to start dressing the birds for dinner.  There’s a handful of herbs in his pack that will liven things up, even if his romantic prospects are slowly dying.  How is he supposed to win Geralt over if he can’t get the message through that thick skull of his?

But the night ends up as brilliant as any other.  They chat while their dinner roasts, and Geralt even tells him he enjoys the new melody he’s been humming all night.  They sit side by side in front of the fire, sharing stories and pheasant alike, and Jaskier knows that if this is all he manages to get from Geralt, he’ll still be a happy man right down to the end of his days.

There is a chill in the air, a promise of Summer’s end, and they lay their beds together and seek out each other’s warmth.  Jaskier falls asleep with Geralt’s slow breaths tickling the nape of his neck, his head full of new plans to confess his feelings.

—

“Going to ask a few questions about my contract, since everyone should be loose-lipped at this time of night, especially after your raunchy performance.  I’ll be quick about it,” Geralt says, pulling Jaskier out of his bedtime routine.

“Now?” he asks a bit stupidly, because he has plans that very much involve Geralt.

“Yes, as I just explained,” Geralt says, rolling his eyes as he leaves.

Jaskier watches the door shut behind him and then throws himself back on the bed, sighing with all the dramatics of one of the maidens in his ballads.  How is he supposed to casually seduce Geralt if he leaves the room.  Since outright declarations of love don’t seem to be working, he figures maybe if they fuck first, he can sort it all out later.   Besides, he’s been lonely ever since he realized how gone he is over the man.  Brothels and adoring fans quickly lost their shine in comparison to his heart’s desire.

He realizes he’s flopping around the bed like a fish on dry land, and he sits up to glare at the empty room.   Instead, he catches sight of the bouquet Geralt had so rudely shoved into his saddlebag earlier.  Suddenly, he’s struck with the most brilliant idea he’s ever had, and that’s saying a lot.

Why bother being subtle when his love is ridiculously thick both in body and mind?

Jaskier strides across the room and snatches up the flowers, quickly untying the twine and tossing them in a pile at the foot of the bed.  There don’t seem to be quite as many as he hoped, but he can still pull this off.  Maybe he just needs to shorten his message a little?  Oh! And he can use the stems as well, not just the petals.

There’s a flurry of activity as he yanks the blossoms from their stems and starts spelling out his message.  He has to start over twice, not sure it’s concise enough.  There can’t be any doubt to what he’s after, especially since Geralt has ignored even his most romantic of gestures.  Once he’s done, he stands back and looks at the message spelled out in stems and petals.

“Jaskier, you genius,” he mutters to himself before looking down at his attire.  He was halfway undressed before Geralt left, and his original thought was to put on the chemise he sleeps, but this looks much better.  These trousers highlight his strong thighs, and the bow above his ass makes him look like a present ready to be unwrapped.

He’s debating the best place to seductively drape himself when the door opens again.  With a squeak, he ends up perched on the edge of the bed.  He braces himself with one leg out and an arm behind him and tries to appear as casually sexy as possible.  Geralt shoots him a confused look before slowly stepping close enough to look at the message on the bed.

“Please fuck me?” Geralt reads aloud, flushing as he turns to face Jaskier.  “Expecting someone else?”

“Oh for Melitele’s sake!” Jaskier cries out, throwing up his hands.  “No!   It’s for you, you idiot!  You’ve ignored every single grand gesture I’ve so lovingly set at your feet, so I figured being direct might work better.”

“I…what?”

“The romantic dinners!  Singing you love songs written about you!  I swear I’ve read you all of the classic love poems, even the most sordid ones!  And you…you sit here telling me you have no idea I’m trying to confess my undying love to you?” Jaskier rushes out, sagging back against the bed with a pout.

“You…you did all that?  For me?” Geralt asks, stepping closer with his palms held up as if Jaskier is some kind of startled mare.

“I, yeah, I did,” Jaskier snorts out. He runs a hand through his hair, surely looking deranged at this point.  “How did you not catch on?”

“Don’t be upset, but I tend to just…zone out when you start talking in prose?” Geralt admits, moving even closer.  He kneels in front of Jaskier and smiles up at him.  “Not in an offensive way, but…I don’t have a head for anything poetic.  So whenever you start rambling about anything soft and sweet, I just tune out the words and focus on the sound of your voice instead?  It’s very melodic.  Calming.  I like it.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, not quite sure what to say.  He thought Geralt had been ignoring him, and he was, but it was kind of sweet.

“I will, of course, break the habit now that I am aware of the stress I’ve caused you,” Geralt tells him before nodding at the floral message on the bedspread.  “So…it seems that you care for me?”

“Geralt, you fucking idiot,” Jaskier murmurs before reaching down and yanking him into the bed.  “I am so unbelievably in love with you.  Apparently you’ve ignored several much prettier confessions, but hopefully that’s enough for you?”

“More than enough.  If you’ll still have me?” Geralt asks softly, as if Jaskier didn’t just promise to love him to the end of his days.

“Never letting you go,” Jaskier whispers against his mouth before claiming it in a kiss.

He means to be gentle, but years of sexual tension explode around them, and he nips at Geralt’s bottom lip before licking across the seam of his lips, begging for entrance.  Geralt groans into the kiss, chapped lips parting so beautifully for him, and Jaskier growls in response.  He cups Geralt’s face in both hands and presses his tongue on one of his fangs, moaning at the sharp sting of it.

Geralt whines deep in his chest, and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.  It set fire to him, his body buzzing and skin burning everywhere they touch.   Jaskier grabs a handful of Geralt’s ass and grinds up against him, and it’s almost overwhelming, even through layers of fabric.  But he needs more, needs to feel Geralt’s pale skin, and he shoves his hands down the back of his trousers, searching for more.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts out as he breaks the kiss to sit back on his heels and frantically tug at the bow at the small of Jaskier’s back.  He lifts his hips to help, whimpering as the cold air hits his hard cock.  Geralt doesn’t bother taking them all the way off, just shoves them down to Jaskier’s knees before undoing his own laces to free his prick.

Jaskier can’t help touching, using one hand to drag him into another kiss while the other wraps around Geralt’s hard length.  It’s hot and heavy in his hand, and Jaskier pumps it a few times before rubbing his thumb over his slit.   Pre-come leaks out, and he uses it to ease the slide as he strokes him rougher.

“Jask, wait,” Geralt chokes out, and he immediately stops and pulls his hand back.

“Second thoughts, love?” he asks, heart racing in his chest.  Please don’t take this from him before it even starts.

“No, just, uh,” Geralt flushes and looks over his shoulder at the petals and stems now scattered around the bed.  “Your message.  Do you want me to find some oil?”

“Next time,” Jaskier says with a grin.  “Right now I just need to touch you.  This is perfect.”  He emphasizes his words by cupping Geralt’s balls in his hand, which seems to set something loose in him.

One second he’s in control and the next he’s being pushed into the mattress as Geralt braces his hands on either side of his head and starts to roll his hips.  Jaskier runs his hands down Geralt’s sides, his nails leaving satisfying red streaks as he bucks up into Geralt.  They’re both leaking now, the wet mess helping as their cocks slide together.

It’s intense and sticky and absolutely fucking phenomenal.

Geralt dips down to kiss him harshly, more fangs and tongue than anything.   Jaskier leans into it, chasing his tongue past his lips and trying to maintain finesse even as his world is exploding in sensations.  He fails spectacularly and ends up nipping at Geralt as they pant into each other's mouths.  The steady grind is quickly pushing him towards release, and it’s all he can do to grip Geralt’s narrow waist and ride it out.

Jaskier turns his head to offer up his neck, and Geralt takes the hint.  He nips at the base of Jaskier’s neck before sucking gently, sure to leave a mark.  The hint of fang pressing against his sensitive skin is enough to have Jaskier teetering on the edge.  Then Geralt grazes his teeth over that perfect spot just below his ear, and Jaskier feels his balls pull tight.

He comes with a shout of Geralt’s name, clinging to him as he spills between their stomachs.  Geralt keeps thrusting, grinding down into him even as Jaskier is coating them both with hot splashes of his seed.  His whole body feels electric, his limbs shaking as he rides the high.   Geralt doesn’t stop, just keeps rocking against him until he whines at how overwhelming it feels.

“Can I?” Geralt asks, kneeling up and wrapping a hand around himself.  Jaskier nods, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch Geralt come all over him.  He reaches out and takes hold of Geralt's thigh, stroking his soft skin while he watches him.

He starts fucking his own fist, hips wild as he stares down at Jaskier with wild eyes.  They’re almost completely black - like he’s full of potions - and Jaskier shivers as another wave of lust washes over him.   His cock gives a half-hearted twitch, but he’s spent for the night.   This is the best orgasm he’s had in ages, and he feels completely wrecked.

“Come on, Geralt.  Want to see you come for me,” he moans, running a hand down his stomach to play with the mess pooling there.  He trails his fingers through his own come and brings two up to his mouth, wetting his lips before sucking them clean.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt hisses out before tensing up.  He spills over his own hand, hot bursts of come coating Jaskier’s already filthy stomach.  He revels in it, arching his hips as Geralt continues to come.  He looks gorgeous, eyes wide and lips parted as he thrusts into his own fist.  It seems like he comes for ages before finally collapsing on top of Jaskier.

They’re fucking covered in come, and Jaskier couldn’t be happier.

Geralt not so gracefully slides off of him, and Jaskier rolls with him, not willing to let go just yet.  They lay on their sides, just grinning at each other, and Jaskier can hardly believe this is real.  It seems like he’d fallen in love years ago, and it’s so surreal to see Geralt looking back at him with affection in his eyes.

But then Geralt starts to move, and Jaskier whimpers, tangling his legs around him.  Geralt snorts and gestures at the growing mess between them, but Jaskier won’t have it.  It’s all too fresh, and he doesn’t want Geralt out of his arms right now.

“Leave it, just cuddle me,” Jaskier whines, pouting at him.  Geralt rolls his eyes and breaks free of his hold, ignoring his poor lonely heart.  He chuckles as he hops out of the bed and walks over to the basin of water on the table.

“Oh don’t give me those big doe eyes of yours.  You’re completely out of your mind if you think I’m going to deal with you bitching about being sticky come morning.   Besides, this just gives us a reason to dirty ourselves up again, right?” Geralt suggests as he wets down a cloth and comes back to the bed.  Jaskier expects him to hand it over, but instead he gently wipes Jaskier clean before taking care of himself.  He could get used to this sweeter side of his witcher.

“I should be offended by that, but I’ll forgive you since you’ve finally fallen for my many charms,” Jaskier tells him with a giggle.  That earns him another eye roll, but Geralt is grinning as he slides back into bed.

“Fallen despite them,” Geralt teases, easily dodging the elbow Jaskier throws his way.   He grows somber, though, looking serious before adding a soft, “I do, you know. Love you.”

“I know dear. I can feel it in the way you touch me,” Jaskier murmurs before taking his hand and lacing their fingers together.  He brings their clasped hands to his lips and presses a lingering kiss to the back of Geralt’s hand.  “Just don’t forget to say it out loud every so often, because the words sound amazing in your voice.”

“I’ll tell you as often as I can,” Geralt tells him, and it sounds like an oath.  Jaskier lets go of his hand but tucks himself close before pulling the blanket over them.  He falls asleep with the slow beat of Geralt’s heart beneath his cheek.

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[ageofhearingloss]

Pick Yourself Up Pt. 2 | Jake Kiszka

a/n: y'all got homework! mandatory listening assignment to accompany this part:

this is a major plot point in this part of the story😎 y/n makes an appearance, but i really want this story to be about jakey so this is not my normal writing from y/n's pov. i'm really happy with how it turned out, and even more excited for where this story is headed!!!! as always, let me know what yall think xoxoxoxo

here's pt. 1

summary: after years of trying to make his dream of being a musician a reality, jake continues to fall short. on the brink of giving up, can his passion alone keep him afloat, or will he need help from others?

pairing: jake kiszka x fem reader

warnings: language, angst (although this part is much happier than the last) , alcohol consumption, light themes of depression and possible eating disorder

word count: 6.9k lol

“Ma, for the millionth time, I’m okay. Really,” Jake assured, phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he struggled to set a couple dirty plates in the sink, “I don’t know why that asshole called you.”

“Josh called me because he’s worried about you, honey, and so am I. You promised me you’d call me every week and I haven’t heard from you in a month.”

He let out a deep sigh; Josh only ever got Karen involved when he deemed the situation drastic enough. It was true, though. He hadn’t reached out to his mother for a while now and that alone was cause for her to worry. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to her, but it was the same reason that he couldn’t face his brothers: he didn’t want for her to see the truth of how he was living. Sure, he was close with Karen, but he never had the relationship that Josh had with her and because of that, it was easier for him to hide from her. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve just been… busy-”

“With gigs?” she questioned innocently, “How are they going?”

Jake didn’t see the use in hiding the truth from her further but he paused, thinking about the correct way to imply how he was doing without saying it outright. 

“Jakey?”

“Uh, they’re not going so hot, Mom, if I’m being honest,” he said as he straightened up over the sink, bringing a free hand to the back of his neck, letting a shaky breath escape from his lips. “Just kind of same old, same old.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. How so?”

“No one is biting, I guess. I play the same gigs nearly every week in hopes that the consistency will land me in front of the right eyes and ears, but nothing’s happening,” Jake explained, closing his eyes before continuing, “Barely making any money these days, either. It’s been a real drag. I’m feeling a bit hopeless.”

Shit, that part wasn’t supposed to come out. 

His mother was silent on the other line, surely waiting for him to continue. He was half expecting her to begin down the road that she always went down; how he was the most talented kid she’s ever heard, how he just needs to continue to be patient, but it never came. He listened to her breathing before he finally asked, “Mom?”

He was then met with sniffles from the other line. Fuck, is she crying? 

“Ma, hello?”

“My baby, I didn’t know you were struggling like this,” Karen began, voice wobbly as she spoke. “This has been your dream since you could walk, I assumed that since I hadn’t heard from you that meant it was finally coming true.” 

Damn.

“I know Josh probably told you to keep going and be patient. He’s always been right when it comes to giving you advice. Whatever he said, I’m sure I agree,” she continued. “What do you need, Jakey? Should I come down to see you? Do you have groceries? I can-”

He laughed before cutting her off, “No, Mom, really I’m okay. I swear. Plus, I’ll be home soon enough for Dad’s birthday.”

“Are you sure, baby? Josh mentioned to me that you’re looking a little…” she hesitated before finishing her thought. “I’m going to send you some food whether you like it or not.”

That bastard really sees through everything, doesn’t he? 

Jake knew that he had been disregarding his health recently, but his mind was elsewhere. And he absolutely hadn’t realized that it had gotten so bad that his physical appearance had shifted, but of course his twin was able to detect any subtle changes before Jake saw them himself. Trying to scrounge up the money for monthly expenses had become increasingly difficult; he couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the grocery store. 

Before he could respond, his phone began beeping signifying he was getting another call. 

Sam. 

“Hang on, Mom, Sam’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

“Alright honey, call me when you can. Watch your front door for groceries! I love you!”

After briskly disconnecting the call, he answered Sam with a meek, “Hello?”

“Can’t believe you actually picked up. That’s the first time in weeks!” Sam laughed out, his cheery, sarcastic tone palpable through the phone. 

“Sorry man, I’m trying to get better at that. What’s up?”

“Well, Josh clued me in that he had given you some instructions and knowing that you don’t have a gig tonight, I believe you are contractually obligated to go out with me and Daniel. Josh will be joining us at some point, too.”

Jake took a sharp inhale through his nose. Truthfully, he was nervous to begin socializing with his brothers again. He had grown accustomed to being by his lonesome; he didn’t particularly enjoy it and was lonely most of the time, but at least he could be his authentic self and process his emotions freely without the eyes of others watching him. He racked his brain for a sufficient way to decline his little brother's offer, an excuse that would seem legitimate enough for Sam to believe. 

“Sam, I-”

“Remember, you can’t say no!” Sam yelled through the phone, partnered with a poor attempt at a maniacal laugh. 

Jake closed his eyes once more, bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knew he would never hear the end of it from any of his brothers if he declined yet another invitation.

“All right, asshole, I’m in.”

Jake could hear Sam hollering on the other line, seemingly pulling the phone away to tell who he assumed to be Daniel, “The fucker said yes! Can you believe it!” Then, speaking directly into the phone,

“Meet us at Robert’s at 8pm, and don’t be late! Oh, and bring your guitar!”

The phone disconnected with a swift click, leaving Jake to wonder just what trouble his brothers had in store for him tonight. I think Robert’s is that place I’ve been trying to play at for months now…

He looked around his apartment and thought to himself, “Man, this place is disgusting. You really let yourself go.” He continued collecting dirty dishes from all corners of his home, placing them in the sink before cranking the faucet and filling the basin with warm, soapy water. It’d only been a couple days since his talk with Josh, and he found himself surprised that his brother's words had affected him as much as they had. There was hope in his heart, even if it was just a small glimmer, but he felt compelled to begin trying again. To make an effort to show up for his brothers, but also for himself. 

A couple hours later, the dishes had been dried and put away, garbage collected and taken down to the dumpster behind the building. He even took the time to wipe down his counters and finally change the lightbulbs in the hanging lamp that illuminated his kitchen. To keep him company while he worked, he put on his favorite records, something that again he hadn’t done in what felt like months. He let the familiar songs soothe him, his mind lulled into a comfortable rhythm. Humming along as he worked, he began to realize that he felt the most at ease he’s felt in ages; his head was free from the heavy thoughts that have been clouding his brain for the better part of a year, the tension in his shoulders beginning to feel a little less tight. Sure, he still felt the gravity of his situation, but having the motivation to clean himself up a bit was a new, welcome change. All thanks to Josh, that fucker. 

Cleaning out the fridge, he was startled by the sound of his doorbell buzzing. Throwing on the pair of beat up Birkenstocks, he made his way through the door and ran down the stairs to be met with a grocery delivery. He picked up the large cardboard box, hauling it upstairs and setting it on the kitchen counter. He noticed a note from Karen lay on the top as he opened the box:

Take care of yourself, sweetie. Can’t wait to see you soon. 

Love, Mom

He smiled to himself, carefully placing the note next to the box before digging through it, noticing how she sent him all his favorite foods. He put the groceries away swiftly, and as he closed the door to the fridge he caught sight of the clock on the stove, 7:46pm.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath before running to his room to throw more presentable clothes on, grabbing his guitar case on his way out the door. Sam had told him not to be late. 

~~~~~~

Y/N POV

“Yeah, yeah, Caitlyn, 7:45 sharp. I got it,” you said as your phone was snug between your cheek and your shoulder, bringing your bags and equipment down to your car. It was nearing 6pm; you and your bandmates had a local gig tonight at a bar that you frequented. 

“Just please don’t be late like last time! This gig is actually really important, and we’ve only got 15 minutes to get set up,” your drummer explained, concern and anticipation evident in her tone. 

“I’m sorry I was late last time, Cait, I promise I won’t be again!” You slammed the trunk of your car shut with your free hand, “You know I’m not usually like that.” She knows I was having car trouble… 

“I know, tonight is just nerve wracking. I’m kinda freaking out. The whole open mic thing… who knows who’s gonna be there.”

“I can tell! But it’s gonna be fine. I’m heading to Jen's now to make some last minute tweaks to her solo. I’ll see you soon!”

You said goodbye to your friend before shoving your phone back in your pocket. Not too long ago, you and your childhood friends had set out to Nashville to live out your dream of making it as musicians. You had all been playing together for longer than you could remember, the band falling into your lap without any real amount of effort. Caitlyn, your neighbor growing up, was a force to be reckoned with on drums, Jen, your best friend since kindergarten, on guitar, and your cousin, Tyler, holding it down on the bass. You had been chosen as the lead vocalist before you truly knew how to sing, but once falling into the role, you took your job incredibly seriously, taking as many voice lessons as you physically could to solidify your now resonant and skilled voice. 

The four of you hit the ground running once getting to Tennessee, and somehow luck had been on your side, managing to play for the right group of people and now you had your first EP out, working to get your debut album out after having signed with a label. You were confident in your abilities and even more confident in your sound, having pushed many other priorities aside to focus on this career that you had set in motion with your friends. 

After climbing in the driver's seat and twisting the ignition, you blasted the AC in your car. Who knew how long it would take for you to get used to the southern heat. It was only a short drive to Jens, something the two of you made sure of when you were looking at apartments, and as you drove you began humming possible riffs for her to try out on the new song you’d be debuting tonight. 

She ushered you inside her place quickly upon your arrival, clearly anxious about your performance tonight. 

“Cait is totally getting to me. I wasn’t nervous at all until she called me a couple minutes ago,” she fussed, leading you into her makeshift home studio and slinging her guitar strap over her head, walking over to the amp and plugging in. 

You chuckled, digging your own acoustic out of its case, “I really think it’s going to be great! We’ve been rehearsing day in and day out, and we’ve played this bar before so at least that bit isn’t new.”

“I think she’s nervous because they asked her to be the drummer for the open mic that’s happening after our set. They’re paying her good money so she didn’t turn it down, but you know how she is.”

Oh shit, I didn’t know that part. 

“Did they ask you or Tyler to stick around, too?” You realized that tonight may be a bigger deal than you had originally thought. 

“Nah, it sounded like they already had a guitarist, and I think they have someone on both electric and upright bass. We’re going to stick around for Cait’s sake, but who knows, we might hear some good shit tonight,” she said, pulling her hair out from under the guitar strap and throwing it over her shoulder, “Now, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

You beamed at her, situating your guitar on your knee before strumming out the ideas you had come up with.

End of y/n POV

~~~~~~

“An open mic?” Jake spat out at Sam, grasping his brother's forearm tightly. “You shithead, why did you bring me to this place?”

Sam was howling with laughter as he yanked out of Jake’s grip, leading him to the table where Danny and Josh sat, somehow already inebriated, whooping and hollering once Jake was in their line of sight. Jake reluctantly plopped down in a chair beside his twin, facing the tiny stage in the corner of the bar that was illuminated by soft overhead floodlights. Nonchalantly swirling his whiskey in its highball glass, he glanced around the bar. So this is Robert’s… 

It looked like any other dive bar, but a little tidier. The walls were painted a dark crimson with neon beer signs and vintage pinup posters consuming every inch of space. The booths were made of brown, worn leather, the floors a warm hardwood. He took inventory of the instruments already set up on stage, and noticed the upright bass snug in the corner. Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of his time after all. 

Josh nudging his shoulder caught his attention.

“I’m really glad you're here, it means a lot,” Josh slurred, just above a whisper that only Jake could hear. 

A slight grin graced his lips as he shrugged before Josh continued, “Did you talk to Mom?”

“Yeah, I talked to her,” Jake replied, jabbing his elbow into his brother's ribs, “thanks for ratting me out. She was all worried and shit. Even sent me groceries.”

Josh shook his head, a cheesy smile plastered to his face accompanied by a pink flush of his cheeks, surely due to the alcohol in his system, “Sorry, man, but you looked like crap! I had to tell her!”

Jake couldn’t help but match his brother's smile; he was beginning to feel true gratitude for all three of them. He was realizing exactly how much they cared for him, willing to carry his burden on their shoulders in any way they knew how. He glanced over to Danny and Sam where they were having their own conversation, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, an emotion that was only supplied when he was spending time with his brothers. 

Danny caught his eyes for a split second and offered him a tight smile; Jake hadn’t apologized to him yet. 

Tonight, if I can find time alone with him. I need to do better. He knew he potentially hurt Danny more than any of his other brothers, and there was still a piece of him too swollen with pride to completely let himself admit just how badly he had fucked up. Before he let himself get too much in his head, something that Josh consistently warned him about, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the group. 

“Alright, Sammy boy, wanna tell us why we’re here? And why I needed my guitar?” He accompanied the question with a raised eyebrow, inclining his glass towards Sam. 

“Well, brother, if you would be patient for just a couple minutes, we’re here to see a band and they should be starting any second now,” Sam replied, clasping his hands together. “The lead singer is a waitress at my restaurant. She told everyone their band had a gig here tonight,” he explained, taking a second to glance around the bar, searching the crowd, “but it looks like I’m the only asshole who bothered to show up!”

“I’ve heard them play before, they’re pretty good! And her voice is unbelievable,” Daniel chimed in, eyes piercing Jake’s as he added, “I think you’re really gonna like her.”

Don’t tell me these assholes are trying to set me up. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why-” 

Jake was cut off by the lights in the bar dimming, turning his attention again to the small stage to watch three musicians climb the few steps up to the platform. A tall brunette took her place behind the drumset, muscular arms and stoic features that seemed to be evident in every drummer he’s encountered. He observed the spritely woman with flowing hair plugging her cobalt guitar into the amp, throwing her wavy locks over her shoulder in the process, and a towering, lanky man who stood impossibly still as he clutched his bass guitar, a mysterious air around him, his eyes hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses. Each one different, surely bringing their own unique voices to the collective whole, but Jake could already tell that their chemistry would likely be unmatched. 

The three musicians checked their sound, the guitarists making sure their strings were in tune, before the lead vocalist made it onto the stage. And as Jake watched her ascend the steps, lights glistening off of her hair and bouncing off her features, his breath was stolen out of his chest. 

She took center stage, if he could even call it that with how confined the space was, and he watched with rapt attention as she adjusted the stand to her height and spoke a hushed “Check, check,” into the microphone. Her voice was low, sultry, alluring, and everything clicked into place as to why his brothers had brought him here tonight. His eyes were glued to the stage, however, oblivious to the three men observing him, smiles plastered wide across their faces upon realizing that they had been successful in their plan. 

She then turned around and spoke something to the rest of the band, all of them nodding and smiling in agreement before a light shuffle began sounding from the drumkit. They all fell into an easy groove, their sound a tempting soulful rock that only few could pull off these days, in Jake’s opinion. He couldn’t take his eyes off the singer as she turned back to the mic, her eyes closed and head softly lilting along rhythmically, an easy, almost lazy smile dancing across her face. 

Jake brought his glass up to his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, settling in for what he knew was about to be a fantastic set, but paused his actions as she stepped closer to the mic, drawing a breath as her eyes opened and the first note slipped past her lips. 

He was sure he looked ridiculous, glass held halfway between the table and his lips, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He was entranced by her voice; his personal siren calling only to him, hypnotizing him. He watched as she effortlessly swayed, interacting with the other musicians she shared the stage with. She was completely in her element, no sense of anxiety or nervousness written in her complexion or any of her bandmates. She acknowledged the audience only a few times, graciously accepting their applause and smiling at Sam when he waved excitedly at her, only to flit her eyes around the rest of the table, pausing when she finally landed on Jake.

His breath caught again and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. For a fleeting moment, they were the only two in the dimly lit bar. 

All he could do was stare, and she held his eyes for longer than what would be deemed comfortable, but it seemed as though she couldn’t bring her eyes away from his, either. Only when she heard a familiar cue did she drop his heated gaze, returning to her revelry-like state as the band began another song. 

Jake caught himself blinking a few times in an effort to try to bring himself back to reality. He glanced briefly at his brothers sitting with him and cursed under his breath when he noticed all three of them already looking his way, knowing smiles evident on each of their lips. He was still clueless to the fact that they had been observing him all night long, not noticing Sam when he leaned over to whisper to Daniel or Josh, “I told you so!”

The set was about 45 minutes long, giving 15 minutes until the open mic started. An older man hopped onto the stage once the band was done, saying that there were still plenty of spots available and that the sign-up sheet was taped over on the bar. The four brothers were still huddled around the table when Sam popped up quickly to announce he was going to get them all another round, which none of them objected to, before hurrying over to the bar.

It was hard for Jake to turn off the voice in his head that was begging and pleading him to go back to the safety of his home, but he had to admit that listening to her sing had been well worth his time. And although he groaned at the thought of listening to whatever “nonsense” was going to be played at the open mic, there was no way he would turn down the opportunity to have the chance to talk to her once her and the rest of her band finished packing up their instruments. 

9 o’clock rolled around, fresh drinks arriving on the table as the brothers talked amongst themselves; it had been far too long since Jake had caught up with them. He learned about the upcoming movie Josh would be working on in the next couple months, always excited to hear his twin talk about something he was so passionate about. The first couple of acts had played their songs, none of them horrible but none of them garnering any of their attention, all too engrossed in each other's company.

Jake was right in the middle of hearing about the most recent tournament Daniel had been involved in when he heard his name being called.

“Jacob Kiszka and Y/f/n Y/l/n, come on down!”

What the fuck?

He panicked as he looked between his brothers, darting his eyes between them until he landed on the culprit, Sam. Of course it was Sam; his little brother was known for getting them into all types of trouble, saying that it was always easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. “Plus,” he would always say, “you guys have to admit that was pretty fun.”

Sam was already beaming, not faltering when Jake gritted at him through his teeth, 

“You motherfucker, what did you do?”

All Sam did was shrug and gesture towards Jake’s guitar case, not intimidated in the slightest by Jake’s blinding rage. 

I can’t play with her, let alone begin to think about what we could play together- His mind was running a mile a minute as he glanced between his guitar and Sam, cursing his brother to the high heavens.

Finally, Josh clapped his twin on the back and whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

He finally looked to the stage where she already stood, a sheepish smile evident across her mouth as she waited for him to make up his mind.

How did she know it was me?

He then looked around the bar, noticing many eyes on him and a hush falling upon the crowd in preparation. 

Oh, idiot, she recognized your last name. She works with Sam.

Turning back to the stage, he saw that the drummer was seated behind her kit, and there was an older man picking up his upright bass that had been gently laying on its side, plucking the strings and tuning it ever so slightly. 

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh before opening them, bending over to grab his guitar case as he stood from his chair. Delighted applause erupted from the patrons of the bar, making him wince, and before he made his way over to the stage, he made it a point to menacingly tower over Sam who was still seated, grabbing the collar of his shirt and whispering a curt “We will talk about this later.”

He let go of Sam’s shirt with a little force, his brother laughing at him and cheering him on, knowing Jake’s threat was completely empty. 

Jake had to take a few calming breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, just like Josh taught him. He stalked towards the small stage, knuckles surely white from how tightly he was gripping the handle of his guitar case. He was all too aware of the eyes on him; he was used to performing and others watching him do so, but he always performed solo and on his terms. This was new territory for him, and it had his nerves blazing. 

Her eyes followed him as he climbed the couple of steps, and he met her gaze and gave her a shy smile as he passed behind her to the unoccupied side of the stage. He made quick work of unpacking, silently thanking his lucky stars that something had told him to bring his acoustic rather than electric. He plugged it into the amp that was sitting behind him, and continued to crouch with his back to the audience as he tuned his guitar quietly. Fortunately, those sitting out in the bar had begun to talk amongst themselves, effectively helping his nerves settle ever so slightly. 

As he stood, he looked to the other musicians, nodding to the drummer as she sent him a sweet smile, and the bassist who gave him a jovial thumbs up. He could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he finally faced her. 

She was standing in front of the mic, neck turned to watch him make his way to the front of the stage, a grin still on her face but accompanied with an expectant, raised eyebrow.

Oh shit, that’s right. What are we going to play?

He paused once he reached the front of the stage, taking a moment to look between the musicians again, racking his brain as to what would fit their instrumentation best but better yet, what would do her voice justice. 

A smirk found his lips as he settled on a suggestion, feeling much more confident now that he had an idea. Jake found his feet taking him to her without a second thought, closing the short space that distanced them. She turned her body towards him, welcoming him with a warm smile, eager to hear what he was going to offer.

Only once he was truly in her presence did his nerves take the reins again. Her beauty was evident when he observed her from the crowd, but seeing her this up close was something else. His heart hammered in his chest once more as he realized that he got to hear her sing again, and better yet, got to hear her voice sing along with him. He let go of the neck of his guitar, the strap snug across his back, and wiped his clammy hands against his faded jeans in a gesture that could only suggest how anxious he truly was. 

Say something, damnit.

“Hi,” his voice cracked. 

Shoot me now. 

“Hey,” she chuckled out, thankfully not noting his aura of insecurity. She glanced to take a look at his guitar, his hands still resting on his thighs, and then brought her eyes to meet him again. He shifted his weight between his feet; why did she make him feel like a hormone-ridden teenager talking to a girl for the first time? His lips parted to speak again but was interrupted by her bringing her face closer to his, leaning to whisper in his ear,

“Seems like you have a song in mind.”

She retracted her head to stand upright before the mic stand once again, an expectant, but patient, look upon her face. 

Jake cleared his throat before leaning in to softly say, 

“Yeah, you know Lilac Wine?”

Her face flushed and she beamed an earth-stopping smile as she whispered back,

“Jeff Buckley or Nina Simone?”

“Can you play piano?”

She smirked and shook her head, “Not like Nina.”

He chuckled softly, “Me neither.” 

“Jeff Buckely it is, then.”

He backed away from her, inclining his head in confirmation, before making his way back to the drummer, asking her if the song was to her liking and she nodded excitedly, switching her drumsticks out for a pair of brushes. 

Y/n had gone over to the bassist, and he watched as the bassist put his hand on his chest, hopefully a sign of how much he loved the song. Jake looked between all the musicians, making his way back to his spot on the stage, saying loud enough just for the bassist to hear, “G Major.” The bassist winked, leaning his bass against his hip.

Jake watched as she made her way back to the front, only after exchanging a quick glance to her friend at the drums, the bassist, and then directing her stare to him. She gave him a slow nod, indicating that she was ready and waiting for Jake to begin. 

He fixed his attention back front, and took a deep breath as the crowd hushed, watching with bated breath for the music to begin. 

Jake inhaled deeply, exhaling as he strummed the one, solitary chord. And then he heard her voice.

“I lost myself on a cool, damp night,”

Jake heard a few whistles of exclamation from the crowd which caused a slight smile to form on his lips as he played the next, slow chord,

“I gave myself in that misty light,”

He couldn’t help but shift his position to face her, only to realize that she already watched him, her head turned just enough so she could still sing into the microphone. 

“Was hypnotized by a strange delight,” she sang, a sultry smirk gracing her lips as the lyrics came out,

“Under a lilac tree.”

Jake watched her with rapt attention, knowing that it was his cues she was waiting for, and even though his heart was racing in his chest just by the fact that she was staring at him, he wouldn’t let that hinder his performance. 

His strumming picked up as she sang the next couple lines, her voice seeming to rumble through the speakers as she sang the line before the chorus, 

“Because, it brings me back you,”

Jake turned to the bassist and gave a cue, letting him know it was time for him to join even though he was sure he already knew that. The rhythm section set the perfect slow, sleepy tempo to paint the mood of the song, and Jake felt overjoyed to be in the company of such talented musicians. It had been a long time since he played with others, and he forgot how great it felt to collaborate. 

The four musicians were feeding off of each other's energy, the song going off without a hitch considering he didn’t know them at all. He locked eyes with his mystery girl, y/n, he remembered, for the majority of the song, her voice tugging at his heart strings and filling the air with nearly palpable warmth. He knew the song would sit perfectly in her register, but he couldn’t have imagined how beautiful it truly sounded coming from her lips. Her voice would stay with him for a long time; he had never heard a voice quite as unique as hers.

He had to play with her again. 

~~~~~~

The song finished all too quickly. Jake had completely forgotten about the audience he stood before, completely enthralled by her voice and the musicians he was playing alongside. Only until he heard Sam’s cheers cut through the applause was he brought back to the moment, focusing his gaze forward to the sea of clapping hands. 

For once, he didn’t have to fake the smile that graced his face. In fact, he didn’t have to think about it at all. Jake was beaming, graciously nodding to the patrons of the bar before his eyes landed on his brothers, clapping excitedly and more obnoxiously than anybody else. It was Josh he lingered on though, his twin giving him a smile that seemed to absolve every insecurity, every heavy weight plaguing him. Before Jake knew it, he was placing his hand over his heart, hoping to convey the immense gratitude he had for his brother, Josh mirroring the action not a moment later. 

Jake ripped his gaze away from his band of brothers and turned to the musicians he just played with, all of them eagerly meeting in the middle of the stage to congratulate each other on a job well done. The drummer, he learned, was named Caitlyn, and she gave him a celebratory firm whack on the back that made him chuckle. The bassist introduced himself as Max and instructed Jake to find him later so they could exchange information. “I can tell you’re a talented kid; it’s not very often I meet a guitarist who truly knows his guitar like the back of his hand,” Max had said, shaking Jake’s hand with a vice-like grip. 

Jake turned to Y/n to say something, anything, but as he opened his mouth he heard the next band called out over the mic, effectively ushering them off stage. Her eyes twinkled, though, and she grasped his shoulder as she inclined her head over to the bar, silently asking him to meet her there. He gave her a shallow nod, not able to keep himself from smiling at her. 

Jake scampered off stage, leaving Y/n to talk with her band as he went over to the table where his brothers sat, waiting for his return. Once Sam saw him approaching, he leapt up off his chair, bringing his brother into an excited embrace that Jake was not all too eager to reciprocate. 

“Oh come onnnnn, you can’t still be mad at me! We all saw you up there!” Sam laughed out, still clutching Jake’s shoulders. 

Jake rolled his eyes, once again not able to hide the smile that was on his face, “Watch me.”

Danny clapped for him from his seated position at the table, giving Jake the most genuine smile he’d received since his fight with him, saying “Brilliant, as always.” Jake shrugged it off, all too aware of the words that continued to be unspoken, but still feeling that this was not his opportunity to apologize. Finally, Josh stood from the table, placing a hand between Jake’s shoulder blades. 

“I think you found it, brother.”

Glancing into Josh’s eyes, he felt all of the words his twin didn’t need to say out loud. All he could do was nod. He agreed; even though he was mere accompaniment, it hadn’t felt that good to play his guitar in a very long time. The feeling of adrenaline, of pride in his abilities, had been lost for months, and he forgot just how addicting the feeling of his calloused fingers against the steel strings could be. Maybe his passion was starting to come back, and it sent a pang to his heart to know that Josh had somehow seen that from the 10 minutes he spent on the stage.

Jake glanced over to the bar, seeing Y/n casually chatting with the bartender. Josh followed his gaze, dropping his hand away from his brother's back and returned to his seat. Jake took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say, not registering that he was already making his way over to the bar. In the distance, he heard Sam yell, “Jakey! She likes gin!” but all he could do was give his little brother a dismissive wave of his hand from over his shoulder. 

He grinned to himself, logging away the bit of information. Don’t meet too many gin fans these days. 

“So, Jacob,” she said, swirling her straw around the glass of her gin and tonic. His name tumbling from her lips felt like a bolt of lightning through his system. 

His smile was bashful as he glanced down at his own drink, trying to keep his composure as he assured that she could call him ‘just Jake.’ Their conversation flowed effortlessly; he learned all about her band and the members within it, as well as how she could handle Sam as her boss. She asked him a multitude of questions, as well, but he couldn’t think about himself at the moment. Any chance he had to think about his own life sent his mind swirling in a downward spiral, so he would deflect the question back to her, genuinely interested in the words she had to say. He found out that she, too, was from the Midwest, both of them commiserating about the heat before he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Jake turned around to see an older man, probably in his 50s, standing behind him, a knowing smile on his face that immediately put Jake at ease.

“Jacob, right? I’m Robert,” he held out his hand, Jake quickly taking it into a handshake, his eyes wide. 

Why the hell is the owner talking to me? 

“I heard you play, you have a really great sound. You a solo musician?”

Jake flickered his eyes between Robert, Y/n, and then over to the table where his brothers sat, before responding, “Yeah, I mostly do solo shows,” he beamed, "It’s really nice to meet you, Robert. I’ve heard so much about this place, it’s great.”

Robert laughed as he thanked Jake, the older man asking a few more questions about Jake’s situation as Y/n sat and listened, a lopsided smirk on her lips. 

“Well, Jacob, I’d love to have you regularly play at the bar. The crowd seemed to love your sound, as did I,” he said, pulling out a business card from his back pocket. “Please feel free to email me if you’re interested.”

Jake blinked a couple times before gently taking the card from Robert's hands. He heard about many great musicians passing through this bar; it was a family-owned place, ownership being passed down from generation to generation, helping artists get off the ground and into the spotlight. Jake met Robert’s eyes again, smiling from ear to ear as he shook the man's hand once more, thanking him and assuring him that he’d be hearing from Jake very soon. 

Once Robert walked away, Y/n chimed in, “He’s a really good guy, but doesn’t interact with a lot of people much. From what I know, he hardly invites anyone to play here. You should count yourself lucky.” She winked at him, a smile evident on her face before bringing her straw to her lips. 

“Your band plays here all the time, did Robert contact you guys?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “he’s friends with Jen’s dad. Her dad called in a favor, got us our first gig here. Thankfully, everyone liked our music enough that we were invited back.”

Almost as if she were summoned, Jen called Y/n’s name from across the bar, beckoning her over and signifying that the band was heading out. 

Y/n turned back to Jake with an apologetic look, “Looks like it’s my time.”

Jake gave a soft smile, glancing at his watch and realizing that already an hour had gone by, the open mic long abandoned. He flickered his eyes back up to hers, “When can I hear you sing again?” 

He felt the air leave his lungs as he watched her blush at his words, but she regained her composure quickly before holding out her palm. She was so sure of herself, an air of confidence around her that he was envious of. If she had any insecurities, she would never let the world know. 

“Can I have your phone?”

“Sure,” he fumbled around for it in his pocket, “what for?”

Her smile only grew at his oblivious question, “So I can give you my number. Maybe you can call me and ask when our next gig is,” she wiggled an eyebrow as she added her number to his contacts. 

“There,” placing his phone back in his grasp, “don’t be a stranger.” In a gesture that was over before it began, she leaned in close and gave him a chaste peck on his cheek before sliding off her bar stool and making her way through the crowd.

He sat and watched her as she greeted her friends, completely dumbfounded. He’d lost track of how many times she had stolen his breath that night, and as he glanced down at his phone that lay waiting in his palm, he brought his other hand to faintly stroke where her lips had grazed his cheek. 

Jake’s heart faltered.

Lilac. 

To be continued....

taglist: @joopsworld @gold-mines-melting @shutupdevvie @indigostreakmorgan @sacredjake @malany-gvf @writingcold @mountain-in-springtime @anthemofgvf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @songbirds-sweet @katelynn-gvf

[etherealperrie]

Anywhere With You

Chapter 2: "The Bolters"

Coriolanus (Coryo) Snow x Reader Word count: 1.6k Contains: pre-hunger games Coryo | buzzcut Coryo | longtime friends to lovers | Coriolanus being soft for the one he loves | mentions of minor tbosas characters | tbosas spoilers

Catching Up? Chapter 1

--

There’s a chill in the air. Your body shivers in response, a reminder that you really are here, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the case you packed late last night. Wind dances across the town center, sweeping the leaves up into the air. You watch in awe as the oranges and yellows mix, their rustling the only sound at this hour. You’ll miss the changing of seasons here in the city, even though they don’t carry quite the same beauty and magic they did when you were a child – before the war. 

The sounds of footsteps catch you off guard, an instinct you weren’t aware you had, forces you back into the shadows behind a nearby building. It’s only Sejanus. You had no real reason to worry, he wouldn’t tell. In all honesty you thought he might try to leave with you and Coriolanus, but he refused. Even though he’d be the last person to try and stop you from leaving, you fight the desire to wave goodbye to him. It’s best you’re not seen. It would be easier to fade away in the memories of everyone here. Not only that, it would erase Sejanus of any culpability. To be honest you aren’t sure what the Capital will do once they realize you’re gone, but the last thing you want is for any of your friends to suffer consequences. So, instead of saying your goodbyes, you watch his figure walk away towards the Academy, noting the strength of his shoulders as he straightens up with every step. 

Your heart thuds against your chest. 

Where you’re headed is uncharted territory, really. A place you’d only heard stories about. A place supposedly far beyond District Twelve. A place with no one in sight – no civilization, just open fields and nameless land. Your heart pounds and you’re not sure whether it's out of excitement or fear: maybe both. After all, you’d been taught to fear a place like that, a lawless land. And yet, the thought of being able to live without the Capitol breathing down your neck, without the expectations and demands of your parents and professors excites you. Makes you wonder for all the things you might do, for the person you might become; to see the ways you and Coryo grow together. 

Slinking further back against the building, you glance up at the sky, the sun just beginning to rise from its slumber. When you woke this morning, Coriolanus was gone, his bed empty. Though the two of you discussed strategy mere hours before, waking up alone was frightening. What if Dean Highbottom heard word of your planned escape? What if a Peacekeeper found your Coryo out in the wee hours of the morning and took him to Dr. Gaul? Coriolanus is smart, but Dr. Gaul is calculated – who’s to say she wouldn’t catch on to your plans and punish him? 

Your worries are cut short as your body collides with something, or rather, someone. Before you have time to panic, a hand covers your mouth, another hand interlocking with yours, rubbing a soothing circle into your skin. 

Coryo. 

His eyes meet yours and you release a gasp, wilting into the strength of him holding you up. Your gaze rakes over him, noting something different about him. His hair. The soft wave of blonde curls are no longer, his hair buzzed down.

“Coryo,” you breathe, running your hands over his head. “What happened? Did they hurt you?” Your hands drop from his head down to his shoulders, feeling every inch of him. 

“I’m okay, love, I promise.” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. “I figure it would be easier to maintain this way.” He shrugs. “That, and I thought it might help us slip out unnoticed.” 

He had a point, he did look different. Everyone here knew him to have those soft, gentle curls.

His hands tuck into the back pocket of his pants and emerge with a saffron yellow colored scarf. The golden thread shimmers in the early morning light. He glances at you and smiles softly, unfurling the satin fabric to drape it over your head. His fingers work to tie the ends just under your chin. 

“What’s this?” Your brow furrows and you reach up to feel the fabric now covering your hair, shielding you from the wind chill and the eyes of anyone around. 

“It was my mothers.” Coriolanus sighs, lacing his fingers through yours. “Anything to keep us out of sight.” He tugs you the slightest bit closer to him and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. It takes every fiber in your being to hold yourself back from him, to not mash your lips against his in such fervor that reflects the danger of the situation the two of you are in. Instead, you pull back as he squeezes your hand, a promise that there’s more on the other side of the two of you escaping the Capitol. 

The sharp whistle of a train in the distance brings you both back to reality, Coryo snapping up, his posture impossibly straight. 

“Come on, we don’t want to miss this one.” 

Close on Coryo’s heels, your hand in his, you make your way across the Capitol center towards the train station. As you approach, unfamiliar voices echo in the station yelling in virulent opposition to the stoic silence of the Peacekeepers as they yank small, frail bodies from the train. 

Your breath catches in your throat, your feet stopping. Coriolanus doesn’t notice at first, the way that you’ve stopped in your tracks, your hand no longer in his but lifted to your lips, the other shielding your eyes from the horror in front of you. 

The tributes. 

Peacekeepers. 

There’s no guarantee that Dr. Gaul or Dean Highbottom aren’t here as well. There’s no guarantee that you and Coryo make it out of the Capitol, let alone onto the train. You hadn’t realized everything Dr. Gaul mentioned yesterday would happen so quickly. That the tributes would be arriving this morning. Where would they go? How many would survive their welcome into the city? How could you run away while they were being carted to their untimely demise – something you’re supposed to have a hand in? 

From where you stand just behind a rusted column at the back of the station, your eye catches those of a small boy. Dark brown hair and pale skin, marred by dirt and what looks like blood, his left eye blackened. Had he been hit by a Peacekeeper? A fellow tribute? No more than twelve, he snivels, crossing his arms as he jumps down from the train onto the platform. A peacekeeper takes hold of his arm, but the boy doesn’t take his eyes off of you. It clicks then. It’s him. Your boy. The one you’ve been assigned. 

“Where did you go?” You jump at the feeling of Coryo’s breath on your cheek, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of you stuck frozen to your place. The two of you are cramped behind this column, if a Peacekeeper so much as glanced in this direction, you’d be caught. 

Coriolanus takes hold of your hand and follows your gaze to the boy standing on the platform. More tributes stand around him now, all of them accompanied by a Peacekeeper awaiting instruction. Coriolanus sighs and brings his hand to your chin, turning your head back to him. 

“I know you want to help them.” 

You nod. 

“I should’ve warned you we might see them, but this is the only train that’s going back out to Twelve for quite some time, we have to take it.” 

“But, Cory–” 

“I know, I know.” Coriolanus places a finger to your lips. “Sejanus is going to do all he can to help them. He knows people back in Two. If he can, he’s going to help them escape – but we have to go. Now.” 

“What if we-” you begin again but Coriolanus cuts you off, placing a delicate hand over your mouth. You raise an eyebrow as the group of peacekeepers and tributes fall silent, their footsteps echoing across the platform as they begin their march toward the transport vehicle. 

“They’re going to bomb the arena,” Coriolanus whispers. “Sejanus, the rebels. They’re already in place, the minute anyone sets foot inside, the whole place will go down. They won’t even be able to hold the games. We don’t have to worry.” 

You’re not sure how to reckon with the information. When did this happen? Whose idea was it? It just might work, though, the Capitol is more than halfway out on the idea of the games overall, most people not having bothered to watch in years. A plan like this just might convince the masses that the Hunger Games are a moot point. That these children are victims to a war they never waged. 

Coryo eyes you, looking for any sign of movement. His eyes are slightly manic, bouncing between you and the train as if internally counting the seconds you have left to board. 

“Okay,” you sigh, taking one last look back at the tributes who had been shuffled into the car. A peacekeeper locks the back door and climbs inside the passenger seat just as the vehicle putters away, its engine just loud enough to mask the sounds of cries and screams. 

Your heart rips in half as Coriolanus tugs you from behind the pillar and out into the open for a singular moment before thrusting you up into the open train car, climbing inside after you. His hand rests on your hip, making sure you’re secure before turning to slide the door closed. 

It's dark. 

The train gives one last, mighty whistle as it lurches forward beginning its long trek back to District Twelve. 

“We’re almost free,” Coriolanus whispers, tucking his head to press a kiss to your neck. He rests there, on your shoulder for a long while, his fingers dancing across your thigh as the sound of the train tracks mimics the pounding of your heart.

--

A/N: I know this is many, many months late BUT I wanted to continue the story & tag those who requested it all that time ago...so...

TAG LIST: @clintsupremacy @jennifer0305 @zucchinimalfoy @marina468 @nishimura-writes @lovebyceleste @ennycutie @mjkale @tellsbabyy

[courtingchaos]

A Terrible Interlude

Summary: You meet Eddie’s dad. No one is happy about this.

Warnings: Shitty parents!

A/N: This is a little snippet I jotted down while finishing up part five of Rent. Just a little call back and some character exploration. There’s a tonal shift here that I’m not real sure about, but I think I like the direction it went in. This isn’t really proofread at all so apologies but this isn’t anything I was going to polish up anyways. Also it’s only mentioned once, but Evelyn is referring to Eddie’s mom. AlsoAlso you have the name Candice in this. It’s not going to show up again anytime soon I just needed a name.

“Edward.” His voice is the same low scratch it’s always been. Deep timber stuck between smoke stained lungs, an adolescence of coal mining on the backend. It’s funny that cough stuck around, considering he hadn’t stayed in that job very long. Stealing things was easier.

“Daniel.” Eddie replies with a tip of his chin. Likes the way his dad’s shoulders scrunch up at his full name.

“Boy, don’t start that shit-“ He’s cut off when Wayne puts a hand on his arm.

“Danny.” Just a warning from an older brother. Wayne looks down the steps at Eddie, concern in the small smile he shoots him. “Ed, your dad was just telling me about how he got here.” He watched the two of you walk up the road, laughter ringing out. Watched Eddie hitch you higher on his back. Wayne’s heart sinks knowing he’s about to ruin his nephews week.

“By bus I assume, isn’t that how they always drop you off?” Eddie’s defiant and still, hasn’t realized you’ve slid off his back yet. “Did they drop you off or did you just steal another car?”

Wayne moves first, cuts his brother off and leaves him to angrily suck down his cigarette on the top step. He gets close to Eddie, grabs his shoulder to pull him in. Doesn’t like that you’re here to witness this bullshit, it only ever goes south.

“Listen son,” he says this quiet. Danny never liked it when Wayne called his boy that. “He surprised both of us. Make nice for the afternoon and he’ll be gone by dinner time. He’s got a place to stay over in Elwood so he ain’t hanging around.” He gives Eddie a good shake to try to get him to look at him. Wayne sees a flash of rage in those brown eyes and for a moment Evelyn is staring at him. He straightens up, hand still clamped on Eddie’s shoulder and looks past him to you.

“Listen Dee, why don’t you head on home? Your mother’s got the night off right? Might like to see you for supper.”

You nod a bunch at Wayne, thankful for him noticing your dilema. You only get three steps backward before Daniel speaks up.

“Well you don’t need to send his friend away. Jesus Christ Wayne, I’m not gonna bite.”

“Danny, don’t turn this into a thing. She’s gotta go home. Probably got homework, like this one does.” He pulls Eddie forward a step, feels like he’s pulling an empty box along with him. “They spend enough time together, we can make introductions later.” They make for the steps and you try to high tail it but Daniel’s voice rings out between the trailers.

“Dee? What’s that short for?”

Now, your mother had taught you manners. How to be respectful to adults and authority though it rarely stuck. This man was neither in your eyes, however you can feel the backslide of nerves kicking in. Grown men asking questions never boded well.

“Candice, sir.”

His mouth pulls down in contemplation, slaps a hand on the metal railing and turns to go inside Wayne’s trailer.

There’s quiet before Wayne lets out a deep sigh. “Ed?”

Eddie moves quick then. Snatches up his book bag you dropped by his feet when you tried to leave. “I don’t fucking care.” He beelines for the front door and Wayne turns to you.

“Listen, I’ll call your mama when we get settled. Have her come get you.” You nod again.

“This’ll be fine.” He lies.

- - - -

Borderlines are clearly drawn through the small living room and Wayne is sadly stuck in the middle of it all. Him and Daniel have been talking for the tenses half hour you’ve ever witnessed. They make it seem like the conversation is easy but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Wayne sit so straight in his recliner. Eddie has posted himself against the countertop outside of the kitchen, just out of your reach where you’re seated at the tiny table. Any fidget you made had Eddie looking over his shoulder at you, only to snap his head back when his dad reclined on the sofa.

This is a whole side of Eddie you’ve never seen. Both him and Wayne hold the tension like a line between them, but where Wayne lets out a quiet laugh every now and then, Eddie just doubles down on his glare. Daniel makes it a point to ignore his kid for a bit.

It’s wild how much Eddie resembles his dad. The same nose sloping into full lips; same angled jaw and slightly too big ears. The same crossed arms and wide shoulders. They’re even the same height almost.

But that’s where that ends.

Eddie must have his mom’s eyes. Her long curls. Her smile. Because Daniel’s blue eyes are flinty and cold blue. His hair short and lighter brown. You haven’t seen him actually smile since sitting down even though he’s huffed a laugh or two.

“So did you just forget to call or what?” Eddie cuts across the conversation. You immediately look down at your feet to try and avoid everyone’s eyes. There’s so much sighing in this small space it’s a wonder there’s any air left to breathe.

“Edward-“

“It’s Eddie.”

His dad fully turns his body to face him. “Edward,” he enunciates it like Eddie is hard of hearing, “if you opened your ears you’d have heard me say I was trying to surprise you and Wayne.”

“We don’t like surprises.”

“Well I wouldn’t know that on account of you never visiting me.”

“Why would I do that when you just spend thirty minutes behind glass telling me everything wrong with me?”

The quiet is fucking unbearable so you set your glass of water on the table and shoot up, mumbling about needing the bathroom. That’s not allowed apparently.

“Candice?” You don’t like how Daniel says that. Like he’s testing the name out in his mouth. Eddie is on that immediately, steps in front of you like a shield and oh how you’d love to just crawl into the back of his ribs and burrow and get you both out of this excruciating visit.

“Nah, you don’t need to ask her anything.”

“Wayne, you sure they hang out all the time?” Daniel scoffs and stands, shoves his hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. Wayne looks questioning and Eddie takes a step back toward you.

“Well she seems to have some manners, would’ve thought that might’ve rubbed off on Eddie here.” He sets his shoulders wide when he looks down at Wayne and then over to Eddie playing knight to you. The confidence you get to speak is like a ray of sun peaking through a cloud momentarily. “Well those are questionable on a good day.” Eddie looks over his shoulder at you with cold eyes.

“At least you have them. Thought my brother would have done a better job than this. Father would’ve never put up with this.”

It’s Wayne’s turn to stand. “Danny, it’s been a few years since you’ve been in polite company so I’ll let that slide right now. Why don’t we let the kids go cool off while you and me have a little chat.” It’s not a question. Eddie realizes that as soon as the last word leaves Wayne’s mouth. He spins around and grabs your upper arm to pull you with him to his room. Before the door closes you can hear Daniel say something about an ‘ungrateful kid’ and the quiet anger in Wayne’s voice.

- - - -

The room is still with the door closed. Eddie stays leaned against it for a while, taking deep breaths to calm down. He can’t believe this is happening. Had no intention of you ever meeting his dad. Had no idea he was even close to getting out. It’d been such a good day too. He’d managed two B’s on two separate test and then you’d agreed to finally let him make you a character sheet for his new campaign. God this was wrong, he wanted to lash out at something but you’re here and he doesn’t want to let himself fall into that stupid rage. He can feel the tendrils of black creeping up the back of his head, invading his thoughts, when you let out an exasperated bark of laughter.

“Holy shit dude that was fucking tense!” You whisper yell at him. “I haven’t felt that weird since my dad came to visit last Christmas. Shit.” You draw out the middle of that ‘shit’ and turn around his room once. “I can like, go out the window if you want?”

No. Eddie doesn’t want that. If you leave he’s gonna stomp right back down that short hallway and punch his dad in the face. He’ll call the cops and tell Hopper his shitheel dad showed up and punched him first. Get him tossed back in jail for a few days, he doesn’t care.

No, Eddie wants to sit on his bed and show you how roll your stats. Wordlessly he walks across to the stack of binders and user guides next to his night stand and pulls out a notebook.

“Eddie?”

“C’mere.” He kicks his shoes off and throws his jacket down at the foot of the bed. Throws himself too against the pillows and tucks a leg under himself. When you don’t move to the bed he looks up from the notebook, through his hair and stares for a second.

“Dude, we don’t have to do that right now. I mean, we can do it la-“

“Please.” Quiet quiet quiet. Eddie’s never quiet and rarely does he use the ‘p’ word. Everything about today is sitting like a lead weight in your stomach. He’s pleading for something normal you realize and before you sit you turn his radio on, the low drone drowning out any utterance from the living room.

Twenty minutes later and you’ve decided on a purple Teifling fighter named Theodora. Eddie thinks it’s funny how into the horns you are and starts a little basic sketch in the corner of the page he’s writing your stats on. You’re asking him about the different dice when his dad’s voice cuts through the little dome of warmth you two are under.

“Well he’s my fucking kid Wayne, I know you like to forget that sometimes!” His voice hits Eddie hard and that’s all it takes for a sob to fall out of him. The tether he’d been hanging on by was thin apparently and he buckles.

“Hey, you okay?” Worry slides into your words.

“No.” His face is buried in his hands and the minor shake of his shoulders tells you the rest. Wordlessly you reach over and pull him to you, head resting on your shoulder and arms going around to squeeze hard. It’s a few minutes of Eddie sniffling into your shirt while you rub little circles on his back. He can’t seem to stop the slow leak of tears and he can feel the shame spreading red hot across his face. He’s only ever cried like this in front of his uncle and now, you. He’s never clung to you like a life raft, stuttering in breath and trying to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. Feels foolish but still doesn’t let go, needs to have some kind of grounding.

You’d been sitting next to him when you’d pulled him in and now the position feels like you’re being pretzeled in half. “Hey, scoot over.” You whisper and nudge him. He does, unwinds himself to lean back against the wall, props his arms on his raised knees. You spin and sidle up right next to him to fit your shoulder under his, arms wrapped around your knees. “I’m sorry your dad is such a dick.”

Eddie laughs wetly, “Yeah well, yours isn’t much better.”

“Fair. Maybe I’ll take you to Indy and we can just have a repeat of today?” You joke, nudging him. He laughs again and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. Tear tracks cut through his cheeks and you reach over without thinking to wipe them from one side with your fingertips. He just turns his head slightly, quirks an eyebrow and you just shrug.

“I’d tell you to not cry over him but he’s your dad.” Your dad may not be in prison but you get it. Spent enough time hating him to not get it. Still, seeing Eddie not loud and not smiling and not himself has changed your view of him a little. Nothing bad but there’s depth to him he was keeping hidden, another dimension of his personality that you hope he’ll let you into more if for nothing more than to help.

“You know if you want to talk about it…”

“I know.” Sniffles again and rocks his head back against the wall. “Thank you.”

- - - -

His dad leaves before you, evening settling when the roar of an engine pulls up outside. You and Eddie have been laying in bed side by side while he explains your new creation to you when the murmur of voices outside makes him get up to look through his blinds.

“Fucking asshole can’t seem to make new friends.” He flicks the blinds and settles back onto the bed with his back facing you. You want to reach out and place a hand between his shoulders to let him know it’s okay. Wayne cuts in though and it only annoys you a little when the door swings open and he just looks in. Worn and tired he tells Eddie his dad is gone.

“Yeah I saw him leave with Rob.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m starting dinner okay? Coast is clear now.” He nods at you and you know a cue. Eddie stops you before you leave his room to shove the notebook at you.

“Hang on to that, I’ll finish it up tomorrow with you.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him before giving him one last hug. He’s still stiff but he does hug you back, arms squeezing your ribs a little longer than normal. Making your way out of the trailer, past Wayne who gives your shoulder a squeeze, you feel that familiar giddiness again. Try as you might it keeps getting harder to squish down, and as you grip the notebook close you can feel it pushing up around your invisible hands trying to stuff it down.

- - - -

The storm door closes and Eddie wanders out of his room to stand in the kitchen and stare at the side of his uncles head. Wayne knows he’s there obviously, but he finishes browning the ground beef and layering it with the peas in the casserole dish before looking at him.

“Ed, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t know about that.”

Eddie nods, throat bobbing when he swallows. “You don’t want him here either.”

“No I don’t.”

“What did he actually want?”

Wayne gives him a bullshit answer, something about money and a job. He’d been asking about custody again, said he had a life set up for himself in Elwood and wanted Eddie to live with him again. That conversation went nowhere and ended with Daniel yelling about ‘his boy’.

Dinner is quiet and Eddie only eats the mashed potatoes off his shepards pie but at least it’s something.

“If you wanna skip tomorrow it’s fine, I’ll call and tell ‘em you’re sick or something.”

“No, I told her I’d be there tomorrow.”

Wayne nods and silently cleans up dinner. When Eddie hugs him from behind, sliding his skinny arms around Wayne’s shoulders he just pats his hand with his.

“Thank you Wayne.”

“No thanks needed kiddo.”

(Sacrifice for the read more)

[silverfoxstole]

NotD coat progress report, after three days and a lot of backache! My body likes to remind me sometimes that though I generally feel like an overgrown teenager I’m actually middle-aged; the mind is willing but the flesh is at times very definitely weak! I could barely straighten up first thing this morning. 🫤

After being happy with the toile I got everything cut out on Sunday and started putting it together. I didn’t have any seam tape for the roll lines so had to use ribbon instead which works just as well; as you can see above, the front is falling where it should. I interfaced the front pieces as per the instructions but I’m sort of wishing I’d used something softer as it’s a little bit stiff. They actually said to interface all of the shell pieces but that wasn’t going to happen; I don’t know about anyone else but unless your fabric was a very loose weave why on earth would you interface sleeves? I want to move my arms, thank you! I also ended up skipping the interfacing on the front facing as that would have made everything completely inflexible, but which unfortunately meant I had to cut another couple of pieces as I’d already fused the stuff before I changed my mind.

That, however, actually turned out to be a good thing as I had a brainwave and realised I could copy the seam lines on the front of the original coat by splitting the facing piece in two:

Result! I finally got the collar the right length and shape, too.

I was complaining on Sunday about having bought too much fabric yet again only to find out that it was just as well I did when I ruined another set of facings by spending ages making bound buttonholes that I didn’t keep. That meant I had to cut out a third lot, and after that unsurprisingly there’s very little material left! It was also a good job I had a lot of lining spare as I decided to completely recut all of the top half after the sleeves refused to go in properly because I’d had to enlarge the armscye so much. My seam ripper is getting a hell of a workout this week; I battled with those sleeves for ages yesterday, trying to get them to sit in the right place. Got there in the end, but I’m not convinced I won’t have to add a bit extra at the cuffs as they don’t look long enough. We shall see.

I’ve not been able to get very far with the coat shell because I’m waiting for some velvet ribbon I ordered to trim the sleeves. It’s going to be much easier to put that on flat so I’ve had to leave them for the moment and work on the lining instead. You can see it above with the shell on top (please excuse the horrible wrinkles in the back; coats and jackets made to fit me always do that when Stella models them), and below once I’d attached the lining skirts:

In the top photos I’d tucked the shoulder pads underneath to check how they sat; I didn’t do it again, hence the coat hanging slightly differently in the ones underneath.

It does actually often make sense to put the lining together first because you can iron out any further fit issues. For instance, there was too much fullness in the armhole at the back so I had to take some extra in the curved seams to remove it. I also extended the waist darts to make it a bit more shaped at the front ; being female I need that. I don’t see myself ever buttoning it up as it’s not worn that way but there’s plenty of room should I want to at any point; I tried it with my shirt and waistcoat underneath this morning just to make sure.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned the fabric but it’s a heavy cotton drill; I can’t work out what the original is made from and it was hard to find something suitable that was the right colour within my limited budget. It was my intention to use self-cover buttons but as we were going up to our local fabric shop to check out curtains just out of curiosity I had look at what they had to offer and found these:

They’re not identical but are sort of reminiscent of those used on the original coat:

Well, vaguely. I’ll try both and see what looks best!

Now, let’s see whether my ribbon comes tomorrow…