#the double middle fingers really are the icing on the cake

[lifeless--cold]

laura dodging trashcan thursday!

[thegainingdesk]

Momentum

It was hard at first. John thought he knew exactly what to do - he'd read enough gainer stories, followed enough fat guys on twitter for years. All it would take was the decision to dive headfirst into gaining and he'd be as big as any of them in no time at all.

Once a day, every day, he'd eat something that would add at least a thousand calories to his diet. He'd barely even notice. A tub of ice cream, a pot of double cream, a whole cake, a second dinner - all very doable, all easily passing that thousand calorie threshold. Once that got easy, he'd start upping his intake - supplementing it with gainer shakes, or trips to fast food restaurants between meals.

It turns out that your average 12 stone man isn't really built to suddenly, rapidly increase the amount of calories he's taking in. Especially when most of those excess calories were dairy. He spent most evenings clutching his flat stomach as it churned with acid. Each evening he'd vomit it all back up, or have to miss meals, or feel nauseous the next day - constant signals from his body to stop.

He actually lost six pounds that first month. Maybe gaining wasn't meant for him. He watched enviously as his mates the same age succumbed to middle aged spread as they hit their mid-thirties, lamenting how lucky he was to still have his twenty year old metabolism as they patted beer bellies they couldn't shift.

John went back to his old diet, gained back those lost six pounds, and accepted he was just always going to be the skinny one in the group. He kept up a few old habits of course - still bought some of the ice cream flavours he'd discovered for the occasionally treat, kept up cooking with butter and cream where he'd found out how much they improved certain recipes, always made sure there were a few beers in the fridge for those nights when he fancied it. Nothing mad though, nothing that would cause any weight gain, just a few treats. You've got to enjoy life, haven't you?

John looked in amazement at the scales. A stone. An actual, whole stone. 14 pounds. On his body! He started noticing things - the tiniest pinch when he buttoned up his jeans, the slightest blur of softness on his stomach. It was nothing really, nothing anyone would notice, but it was there - solid proof that he could gain weight. He'd just pushed himself too far before, he realised with a laugh. Slow and steady and all that.

All those little habits became regular. Dessert every other night, then every night. Cooking with butter and cream no matter the recipe. A couple of six packs of beer a week. Nothing too intense, not that many calories, but it all started adding up, bit by bit.

Fancy coming for an Indian? the text read.

John's fingers hovered. The answer was obvious - thanks, I've just eaten, I'll join you at the pub after if you're going. But… his fingers traced that new curve of his gut, inching slowly bigger by the month. Not enough to be visible in most clothes really, not enough to be called fat, but there, sure enough. Was he really full? He could eat, couldn't he? What's a curry and a couple of naans?

You off to the Raj? he texted back. What time?

That old familiar feeling, of a stomach overly stuffed, too much food and beer. But different this time. The pain was there. The pressure. But there was a certain enjoyment to it. A pleasure. Warm, rather than acidic; heavy, rather than sharp. And god but didn't his gut look round? He stood in profile in the mirror, holding it almost like a pregnancy announcement. How long until it was always this size, he wondered? How long until it was bigger?

A second dinner became a weekly occurrence, then spread to two times a week, three times, four. After all, he'd proven to himself he had the capacity - why not? Eventually if he hadn't had four meals a day topped off with ice cream he'd be ravenous, his stomach biting at him in retaliation for his neglect.

He crossed 200 pounds. 210. 220. Clothes were bought, grown into, outgrown, and the cycle repeated. The general increase in size that had come before gave way to true signs of fatness. Soft pockets of fat at his chest, his arse rounding out, chubby cheeks, a real, honest to god, gut. It was happening. It was really fucking happening.

His mate Sam, the largest of the group, reached over and slapped John's baby gut after he took his coat off one night at the pub. "Fucking hell mate!" he said. "Never thought I'd see you with one of these!" There were some jeers, some belly pats, some comments - "At least you're not making us look bad anymore." "Welcome to the club, mate."

John looked around as he downed half of his first pint. How much more weight until he was the biggest there? None of them were that big, really, even Sam. Just a load of ex-rugby players with some overdeveloped beer guts. Another 30 or 40 pounds maybe? 18 stone? It sounded good, didn't it? And it would take, what? Six months at his current rate? A nice place to stop for a bit, enjoy his weight and new status as the big guy of the group.

He downed the rest of his drink and went to the bar for his next. "What we eating tonight then lads?" he asked them all, thinking back to the burger and chips he'd had just before coming.

It was all a lot easier with a definite goal in mind, he thought to himself a few weeks later, as he finished a tub of ice cream and placed it down next to four empty beer bottles. The sizes of snacks crept up, until they were meals in and of themselves, and he'd find himself convincing himself he was hungry almost as soon as he'd finished eating. He started stashing snacks everywhere that he couldn't reasonably expect a meal - the passenger seat of his car became reserved for a small mound of chocolate bars, the bottom drawer of his desk at work was filled with crisps and cereal bars.

His mates fell silent as he walked up to them a few months later, the next time he saw them, and he grinned smugly as he saw that, yes, he'd definitely become the fattest there. A couple of them even looked like they'd lost weight, the stupid pricks - didn't they know how good this felt? He put his pint and packet of pork scratchings down, and maneuvered himself down into his seat.

"Jesus Christ John," Sam said softly. "Are you… I mean… Is everything okay?"

John slapped the top of his gut and beamed. "Just enjoying life mate!" he replied, laughing. He tried to listen in as the others murmured around him, doing their best to not be too obvious.

"He wasn't that big last time, was he?" "Definitely not, he was smaller than me." "What's it been, four months? Three?" "He's not ill, do you reckon?" "Must be four stone, at least?"

Okay, so he knew he'd overshot his target and weighed in at 20 stone and change that morning, and yes, how fast it had piled on had shocked even himself, but really, it was all so hot, he was hardly about to complain. In fact, he'd made the decision that 285 felt a little small, really. Why not push for 300, when he was already so close anyway? Then he'd be satisfied, he knew.

"Mate," Sam whispered to him quietly, leaning in. "You've got a little uhh…" He gestured to his face. John took a finger and wiped the corner of his mouth.

"Cheers mate," John said, licking his finger. "Just a bit of cream." He spent the night making jokes about how fat he was getting, and eventually everyone else relaxed a little, content that he at least seemed happy with his shocking weight gain. Underneath his gut, his cock was rock hard.

300 pounds, it turned out, also felt a little small. Or at least, that's what John told himself a couple of months later as he saw 316 flashing on the scales. Maybe just a little bit more - a few more pounds and then he'd stop, once and for all.

But god, did it feel hot. Eating became its own erotic experience. It wasn't merely that he couldn't cum anymore without being completely, painfully stuffed (that point had long since come and gone), he now wondered why he would want to at all. Hook-ups became as much about being fed as they were about the sex. He didn't care who they were - if they had food and were willing to feed him, he'd take them.

John's body became unrecognisable. He was far beyond mere beer belly or dad bod now, his gut was now a globe that spanned out in every direction, wrapping around into thick cushions at his back, draped in inches of fat on top of the firm ball, before cascading off, a surprisingly cold apron of flesh that was slowly threatening to cover his ever shrinking cock. His tits sagged to the side and joined up to his back fat nestled in his armpit. His face, long-since fully rounded, began to elongate, his cheeks and chins sagging into new shapes.

John panted a little as he stood naked in his bathroom, doing his best to push his gut in with one hand as he peered over the top of it to see the scale read 363. "Right," he told the walls of the bathroom. "That's it, I'm stopping there." He struggled to lean down to pick the scales up, sliding them away to the side of the cabinet before straining to stand. "I only bloody wanted to be bigger than Sam."

Food, however, still tasted as good as it had before. And every meal he tried to scale back, every snack he tried to forgo, left him ravenous - each day he'd just end up gorging on more food than he tried to cut back on.

370. 380. 390.

His body began to feel alien. Every joint began to feel crowded, flesh filling the space before he could fully bend his elbow or knee. His arms sat awkwardly by his sides, pushed out by sloping tits. Manspreading became the default, as his thighs met all the way down to his knees which themselves began to inflate out, pillowy and soft.

400. 410. 420.

The gym, he decided. If dieting was out of the question (and there was no doubt at this point that dieting was very much out of the question), he could always exercise. He drove to a nearby gym, asked about personal trainers. Put down more money than one of his mortgage payments for their premium membership for a year, as much to force himself to commit as for the actual services.

His feet ached. His knees grinded. His lungs burned. Sweat poured off of him in quantities that he didn't know people could sweat - and he considered himself to be quite the expert on sweating these days.

Fuck it, he thought to himself after the first session, his circus tent of a t-shirt practically see-through, clinging to every roll of his body, showing off each crevice and valley. It wasn't that much money, really. He could afford to wave goodbye to it, if it meant never having to do that again. What did he have such a good salary for, if not to waste it on shit he'd never use? He'd have only spent it on food anyway.

430. 440. 450.

"My weight's plateaued recently, actually," he told Sam proudly over a pint.

Sam gave an encouraging smile. "That's great mate," he said, in the same tone he'd speak to a child or elderly relative. "Really great."

"Yeah," John said, opening one of the bags of nuts on the table in front of them. "I only put on like five pounds last month."

"Fuck," Sam said quietly, his face draining of colour. "Five pounds last- John, mate, that's still over a pound a week. What are you… how quickly were you packing it on before?"

John shrugged, and pointed to the rugby match on the TV in the corner of the pub, trying to change the topic. At least Sam had put on some weight himself recently - it blunted to criticism just a little.

"I'm over twenty stone now," Sam confessed later, his breath reeking of beer as he leant in close. "I don't know how I'm going to stop," he continued, his words slurring. He leant back and pulled his t-shirt up to reveal his hairy gut beginning to fill his lap and he slapped it. "Look at this thing!" he said loudly enough that people at other tables looked over and laughed. He began to rub it in slow, wide circles, and John could see the outline of his dick growing down the inside of his trousers. He leant back in, lowered his voice once more. "It's kind of fucking hot, isn't it?" he asked, punctuating with a burp. "That's why you've gotten so fat, right? You find it hot too?"

Forty five minutes later, Sam clumsily lined up his cock with one of the folds on John's gut, and slid it inside, grunting as he did so. Both of them held a kebab in one hand, and ate them as Sam's gut and John's whole body shook and quivered with Sam's thrusts, bits of meat and salad and sauce falling down onto their bodies.

"I can't stop," Sam moaned, as his thrusts became more erratic. "I keep on trying to lose weight but I just gain more and more." He spasmed and yelled out, one hand shoving the last of the kebab into his mouth, the other gripping one of his love handles hard, his fingers sinking in to the growing ball of fat.

"That's the thing about momentum," John said as he licked the last of the sauce off his fingers. "Once you get started, it just gets harder and harder to stop."

Sam slid off of John's body and John looked down at himself, surveying his acres of flesh. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to put on just a little more weight, he thought to himself. After all, Sam needed someone to set a good example.

[defrosted69]

My Emotional Panda

Lee Seoyeon X Reader

(I got this idea from a YouTube video and I decided to add my own twist to it)

Money.

They say that money is the root of all evil. But for some it's an escape to their life. Not everyone was given the opportunity to have a silver plater and a 5 course meal.

Some live off eating at least twice if they were lucky enough to.

And you, out of 8 billion people in the world where one of the unfortunate ones.

Of course you complained sometimes how life was unfair to you. The sight of children your age eating ice cream, pizza, and having cake on their birthday. Heck, You barely even had time to celebrate your own birthday.

Everyday was a hussle for you, whatever work it was you would do it.

Forget education, you couldn't afford to have one. Your own daily expenses wasn't even enough to keep you alive.

Let's not talk about your parents. It's not like you loath them but given you never met them in your entire life shows that they either didn't care for you or they couldn't properly raise you.

The only place you call home, the adaption center was burned to the ground by some mafia thugs.

It's like life is flickering you the middle finger everytime something good happens to you. That's when you realize that life and the world was unfair.

Kids your age should have been enjoying life, eating delicious food and having no care at all but life didn't give you any of that. Instead it gave you suffering and agony.

The days and nights you have to sleep on the dark street and even having to fight for a place to stay shows how hard life really is.

Adults should have been the one guiding young people and showing them the rights to their wrongs but why didn't you feel it.

Instead of hearing an apology or a word of empathy, you were spit with venomous words and even had to endure the physical assault they gave you.

If there was one positive thing that you were thankful for is your patience. No matter how annoying and stressful things escalate you remain calm and collected. Some may want that trait but for you it's a curse. All that emotion bottled up inside you will surely kill you emotionally.

But on a breezy afternoon, it seems faith and destiny weaved up a line that will change your life for the best.

With a growling stomach and no food in sight, you decided to put your chances on a nearby park hoping the ungrateful people who throw away their food in the trash be your dinner.

With your small wobbly legs, you pushed through your weak and fragile body checking every trash bin available.

The rustling sound and unbearable scent had no affect on you as you were a starving man to death. When desperate times arrive, Thouh shall make desperate measures.

But it's as if bad luck was implanted on your DNA that no food was in every trash bin you checked. You did a double check, triple check, turn every trash bin upside down but there wasn't any single sight of edible food.

You were frustrated and devastated. This wasn't on a normal basis but there are days where you just come up empty handed. And this day was the worse day as your stomach pain was beginning to get worse and worse.

Your wobbly weak legs couldn't lift your body anymore as your eyes searched for a place to rest your body.

It wasn't that long when you saw a wooden park bench as you sat there looking down on the ground.

Maybe it was your hunger kicking in as you could see the concrete floor in 4k as every particle was visible in your sight.

Your eyes were beginning to get heavy as you suddenly felt a strong urge to take a rest. Being a naive kid you are, you slowly laid your head on the wooden floor as you prepare yourself for a deep slumper.

"Heh, he fell asleep."

A voice and a soft pillow immediately woke you up as all of your senses were alerted.

You sprang up immediately as you looked to see where the voice came from.

"Geez, Did you really have to jump? My Mom always make Dad sleep in her legs. Hmph"

A small girl who's smaller than you pouted as you look at her in surprise.

Her attire is what you always see in big malls, the silver spoon kids as you call them.

"Wha-What do you want?"

There was a small shiver on your voice as the girl smirk at you.

"You have been digging trash cans since we arrived here. What are you a racoon? You're suppose to eat like a human like us. Give me your hand."

She extended her arms as she opened her hand hoping you would take hers. You have seen how people easily fake their trust and stab you in the back. It was mostly done by the adults but seeing someone your age doing something like this, it was skeptical.

You were hesitant but you slowly gave her your hand as she smiled and she suddenly pulled a wrapped burger on her pocket and gave it you hand.

Your eyes widen in suprise even though your hair has covered most of your eyes. Your facial expression showed that her act of kindness caught you by suprise.

"Don't tell my parents this but I bought you a burger hehehe~"

She happily smiled at you as you stare at the burger in awe. Without hesitation, your instinct kicked in as you ate the burger that was given to you.

Never in your life have you ever tasted such delicious and well made burger as a sudden rush of emotion ran through your body.

No one in your life has ever showed you kidness like this before as you didn't expect that it would come from a girl your age.

She could hear you sobbing as you ate the burger as she couldn't help but look at you with pity.

"So.. Mmghood...."

The sniffles made her irritated as she pulled out her handkerchief and grabbed your face. You saw her glare at you as you suddenly felt scared.

"Gosh, your crying so much. Here."

She gently wipes your tears away with her handkerchief and smiled afterwards seeing you stop crying. She sat up and gave you one last smile and said the words you will never forget.

"Never give up okay crybaby?"

Those few words immediately left a mark on your heart and mind. The very first person to show you kindness, was a girl.

Girl.

What was her name?

At least you should know her name right?

"Wha-What's your name?"

With a smile, she said

"Lee Seoyeon."

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"Oi, wake up dude. The boss man is looking for you."

You woke up from a good nap as you rose up smiling after recalling a very good memory from the past.

Your co worker notice the visible smile you have as he couldn't help but smirk as he nudge you playfully.

"Oh my did our little precious Y/n got a very naughty dream? Tsk tsk such a bad boy~"

You could only sigh at him as you made your way to your boss office.

It's been 10 yrs since that memory occurred and by now your already a working employee on the same park you found her.

The first time you met her was also the last time you saw her as you visited this park everytime but she never came back.

Instead of seeing her, you were offered a job to clean the park CRs instead of stealing food and you took it. You didn't complain or anything as years go by and you were now a standard employee of the park.

Your boss office wasn't anything grand but his facial expression always had that stoic face. You can never tell what he is thinking.

"You called for me boss?"

"Ah, Yes, take a seat Y/n."

You wasted no time to take a seat near his table. He adjusted his glasses before he spoke.

"I'm giving you a new job which is something unique."

This made you raise your eyebrow at him as your boss wasn't the typical boss. He would often say his thoughts in riddles. And considering you can't understand riddles, you were confused.

"Ummm, boss what do you mean?"

"I want you to wear a bear costume to attract customers for the newly opened amusement park inside the park. And since your good in attracting people. Why not try on a suit?"

His request was questionable as you wanted to ask why but he suddenly pulled an odd looking bear suit which at first glance looks so weird.

"That's your outfit. Try it on."

It wasn't dusty nor smelled like dust so you tried it on and fit you perfectly well except that the bear looks HORRIFYING.

"Umm, Boss. You sure this is an outfit that could attract people? Looks like a suit for robbing a bank."

"....."

That silence alarmed you as you immediately asked.

"Wait, is it for robbing a bank?! For real?!"

"No of course not. Anyway you can leave my office now. Go. Shooo."

He was trying to get you off his office as you left wearing the costume. You were left with questions lingering on your head but you wondered what would the people's perspective of the bear be?

And that question was immediately answered as the following day, kids were crying and avoiding your gaze as you sighted.

"I know something was off with this costume"

Nonetheless you stood there not knowing what to do because every action you do makes everyone look at you with scared expression.

"Ah! Mr Bear. Can I take a picture with you?"

A woman's voice alarmed you as she looked at you in awe. Her eyes were sparkling brightly. All you can do was nod your head.

"Tihehehe, My members will be so jealous I got a picture with a cute bear."

Her sentence made you blush for some reason as it was your first time someone called you cute.

"Then again, she must be pertaining to the bear and not me... Oh well."

She wrapped her hands around your arm making you flinch a little at the sudden contact but immediately regain your composure.

With a quick snap of her phone, she managed to get at least 10 photos which amazed you.

She was wearing a mask but you could visibly see her eyes smiling at every photo you took.

"She's... Cute.."

That was the only thought that was in your mind as she suddenly lunged herself at you as she hugged you tight.

Her sudden action startled you as you accidentally hugged her back.

"So warm~~ Hehehe."

You were thankful that the huge bear mask covered your entire face because you were a blushing mess. Never could you have imagined that a cute girl would hug you tightly as if you were world.

It took a couple seconds before she let go of the hug as she said

"Thanks for recharging me Mr. Bear. I'll ser you around."

She left while waving at you as you could only wave back slowly. Your brain was still processing what happened.

"What... Just happened?"

That question lingered on your mind the entire day and it was stuck there for a while.

You had hoped that the bear costume would end but it turns out you have to wear the bear outfit for a while.

You had to bear with the crys and scared expression of every passer by but it all didn't matter as the small girl appeared every once a week.

In that short period of time, you managed to get to know her even though your reply was only a nod or a shake to the side. But her bright energy was everything for you.

Her husky voice while she laughs was music to yout ears. She would often manage to tease you making you a blushing mess.

She was very teasing but that was one of her charms. Even though the job was tiring, meeting her every week was all worth it.

But not all things are permanent.

While you were preparing to wear your suit, your boss came to you.

"Y/n, today's the last day you'll be wearing the costume. You'll have to go back to your original post after today."

"Oh, I see..."

When you first wore the costume, you have always wanted to hear those words from your boss but right now, they sounded so displeasing in your ears.

Maybe it was because you met someone who appreciate you and someone who made your heart race.

The weather didn't help the mood as the gray skies painted over the sky. It wasn't that long when it started raining. Instead of standing still outside, you went inside the carnival area where there was a huge shade covering a few people from the rain.

Though today was the last day, you had hoped to see the girl once again but considering the rain, she would probably wouldn't come.

Right?

That should have been the answer.

But something tells you she was waiting for you.

You ignored that thought because there was no way she would be standing there waiting for you in the rain.

There was no way.

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.

.

.

"Ah, screw it."

Your gut feeling was telling you something was wrong. And it didn't ease you one bit as you rushed outside as you were immediately met with rain pouring from the sky.

You traced your step where you usually stand but you didn't find her there.

Heartbroken, you chuckled at your pathetic self.

"Of course she wouldn't be here. Who in the world would-"

Your eyes caught someone sitting on a wodden bench all soaked from the rain. You went closer to the person and Immediately covered her with your sign board.

"Mr. Bear?"

That husky voice was all to familiar with you. She looked up and your heart tore into thousand pieces. Her mask was gone and you could see her plump lips and cute nose. But her eyes looks so broken and defeated.

"I'm sorry I.. Waited for you here. I'm stupid I know.."

Her cheerfulness was gone and you felt an unusual vibe from her.

"Today is just.. Everything's just so wrong."

She clenched her fist as you could only stay quiet.

"Why.. Why did I have to make a mistake on the biggest stage of them all. Everyone's eyes are on me and it even dragged my members too. I hate it! I hate how my mistake damage the group. Why... Why.. Should I just quit?"

Quitting.

You felt that same way before. 10 years exactly. On the very same bench. That girl was what showed you that there was hope and right now, the girl infront of you needed hope.

You removed the bear head as her widen seeing your face for the first time.

"Never give up. Those words was said to me when I was on the verge of quiting life."

She stayed quiet as she listened to you.

"It sounds cringe but seeing you weekly and interact with me even if it was just a short period of time, made feel significant and wanted. So.. I might sound selfish but please don't give up."

The girl stayed quiet as you had hoped your words went through her. You were expecting a nod or a shake of the head but instead got

"Crybaby?"

Your eyes widen. That nickname was given to you by Lee Seoyeon. Your eyes met hers as you said

"Lee.. Seoyeon?"

She gasped as she suddenly lunged herself to you as you carefully caught her in your arms.

She began crying softly on your bear chest as you patted her head. As if on cue the rain suddenly stopped.

"Crybaby...."

You just let her cry on your chest as you thought that she must have it rough for the past 10 years.

It took a couple minutes before she regain herself as you helped her up and both of you sat on the bench.

"I didn't expect that you would be in this park all this time."

You chuckled at her and said

"I.. Never really left. I was... Well kinda waiting for you to come back and return you this. Give me your hand."

A sense of nostalgia made Seoyeon chuckle as she gave you her hand. You pulled out from your pocket the same handkerchief she used to wipe your tears.

"This is yours so I'm returning it to you."

She was amazed how it still looked the same like 10 years ago.

"Also, you told me before that your in a group. And I think they wouldn't be angry nor frustrated at you. People make mistakes and like the stories you said to me, it seems like the 9 of you are very close"

Seoyeon stayed quiet as a small smile appeared on her face. This was the first time you saw her smile without the mask and she was very pretty it made your heart race and make you blush.

"So Seoyeon, don't ever think of giving up because you have people there for you. Your members, family, friends and me. Like what you said to me. Never give up okay? You cute panda."

That last word was something Seoyeon didn't expect as she blushed a bright red. She couldn't believe that the guy she helped 10 years ago turned out to be a handsome person and a kind hearted one too.

"T-Thank you..."

"Y/n. Your crybaby. Hehehe."

Your bright smile washed away all that negative thoughts that swarmed her earlier. She suddenly felt motivated as she gave you a warm embrace.

"Thank you Y/n. Thank you."

You hugged her back but this time, not as Mr. Bear but as her crybaby.

It took a couple of minutes before she pulled away.

"I feel refreshed now. Thanks Y/n hehehe~"

She waved at you as you waved back at her. Once she was out of your sight, you searched your phone on what group Seoyeon was and saw the events of their group. An idea popped on your head.

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"Are you alright now Seoyeon?"

Her leader Searom asked as everyone was worried for her.

"I'm okay now Unnie. Hehehe~"

A hand patted her head as Gyuri, their ex member smiled.

"Good. Now slay the stage. I'll be watching at the backstage."

Seoyeon nodded as her mind was filled all about you. Starting from the words you said and how you changed for the good. A blush appeared on her face as she thought of you.

"Uhh, Seoyeon you have a gift from... Mr. Bear?"

Seoyeon widen her eyes as she grabbed the box that was handed to her by her manager. Her members were also curious on what that gift was as they leaned in close to her.

Seoyeon opened the box and it revealed a cake with the words

"You go and show them what you got Seoyeon."

Murmurs were visible but She didn't care. Her heart was racing to the max as butterflies were swirling on her stomach.

She closed the box as she faced her members with a look of determination.

"Let's show em what we got!"

That got them all hyped up as they were ready to tear the stadium down.

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You were back to your regular job at the park selling burgers along your co worker as your bear adventure has come to a close.

Though you saw articles about the success of Fromis_9 concert, the main attraction was how Seoyeon slayed the song and dance.

You always knew that she was a talented person and seeing postive comment about her just brightens up your mood.

Right now there was no visible person in sight which made you wonder why. It was the weekends so today, the park should be filled with people.

You got out of your food stand and looked around if there was something wrong. But you couldn't find anything wrong.

"Is today a holiday? The park should have been-"

"Crybaby~~"

A familiar voice broke your thought as Seoyeon lunged herself to you as you quickly caught her in your arms.

"Seoyeon what are you-"

You couldn't finish your sentence because Seoyeon leaned her face to your and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

Your brain went haywire and malfunctioned upon realizing what Seoyeon did.

All she could do was chuckle seeing your blushed face.

"Tihehehe, did I suprise you Y/n? Well that's a sign of how much I love you."

You didn't know what to say and when you finally spoke, the words that only came out of your mouth was

"Yes?"

Seoyeon giggled as she grabbed your hand and drag you away from the food stall with a smile.

"Come on, we have 10 years worth of dates that we need to catch up. Hehehe~"

Well maybe you weren't unfortunate after all, seeing how a girl like Lee Seoyeon fell for you and even become your girlfriend.

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Sigh

Your co worker said as he couldn't help feel a little jealous of you.

"I wish I have a girlfriend like him."

He laid his head on one of the tables but a cute voice woke him up quickly.

"Umm. Are you okay?"

He immediately blushed seeing the girl talk to him.

"Uhh yes I'm okay."

Her cute giggle went straight to his heart as she reached out her hand to him and said

"I'm Baek Jiheon. Nice to meet you."

He didn't even hesitate to shake her hand as she said

"I'm Nam. Just call me Nam, ma'am what?"

He got confused by his own words as this made the girl chuckle and thought

"He's cute."

.

.

.

.

[biggervisions]

Chapter 2 part 2

I look into his eyes as I bring my hand up and lick my fingers. He stares as I do it. Watches each finger. His eyes glaze over a title. “It’s time to go down stairs, David.” He snaps out of it. “Wha...yeah...yeah let’s go!” He turns and waddles down the stairs. I follow behind. Waiting a few so the stair don’t take too much of a strain.

We get to the sofa, with me bringing four dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. The moment I place them down a quiet hits the air. They’re (we’re) all looking at the boxes like a pack of horny elephants. Mike spreads his legs and his belly spills out from under his shirt. He leans forward and opens the box and takes out a chocolate covered donut and bites into it, eating half of it in one bite. David takes an apple fritter (specially bought for him) and, after a glance at me, starts to eat his fritter. Morris doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just looks from the donuts...to me.... to the donuts. I reach for a cake batter donut, and he begins to lean his massive frame towards me, like instinct. David and Mike are watching this all happen, while also looking at the tee vee. Mikes eyes have a glazed over look. David has been absent mindedly rubbing his belly while he eats his donut. I hold the cake batter donut in my hand and look at Morris. He almost whimpers softly and I present it to his lips. He doesn’t eat yet. He waits and looks to me for permission... like a good subby fatboy should. I nod and he bites into it...he devours every bit around my fingers and then takes my hand into his two big fat paws and takes each finger to suck on. Our eyes lock as he licks the last bits of sugar from my finger. I’m hard as a rock. It feels like the sound has been sucked out of the room. It’s thick with intensity and lust, hunger and passion. I look at Mike and he’s obviously hard in his shorts, a lump straining against the silky fabric. He’s eating another donut and watching Morris wait for his next feeding. I pull another donut out and repeat the same process, this time before he can lick my fingers I have another donut ready. He begins eating the other donut as I put my sugar and icing covered fingers in the air and the heel of my hand against the upper part of David’s belly, propping it there as I got closer to Morris, sitting in the middle of the three now.

Morris is scarfing down his donut as I watch David’s eyes stare at my hand. Even as he’s eating his third apple fritter, he stares at the sugar cascading down fingers and falling onto his belly.

I brought my finger up to his lips and smeared some sugar across them. He licked them immediately attempting to get the finger into his mouth but I pulled it away and fed them to Morris, letting him clean my fingers up. I stood up and looked at the three of them. It was now or never to see if this would work. “Ya know what, we should strip down. I mean...it’s just us right? We have seen each other naked a bunch of times separately...why not in person and just... get more comfortable. Get relaxed. Isn’t relaxed better? Naked means no clothes bunching up...” -and naked means I can get us into seeing each other’s cocks...and seeing who’s biggest and smallest....and really making tonight come together- I thought to myself. Their eyes were glazed, almost in a hypnotic stare. It was working. I could feel it. There was hesitation, so I began to take my own shirt off. As I pulled my shirt up, my belly fell out from beneath, showing to my old friends just how much weight is actually gained. Davids eyes bugged out, his mouth open as he tried to speak, to say something about his friends body that had doubled in size since he last knew him. How could he have gotten that fat? What happened in the time they hadn’t seen each other that made him so big? Was he this big when he came in? I watched his face try to process it all, even while he began taking his own clothes off. Before they knew it, their clothes were all piled in a heap on the floor in a corner, all of us standing and looking at each other’s fully naked bodies.

The room was quiet except for the tv, still droning on, the subliminal messages still flashing across the screen, telling them to get fatter, give in to the hunger and horniness, can’t cum until you’re totally full.... all the things I’d programmed. It was Morris who broke the silence with a small cough. I realized I was in the same trance they were... gotta get back to the plan. I look at the three of them and start to speak..my tongue is dry at first. “-cough- Uh... we... we’ve all gotten a little bit...fatter than when we were first here...I know I’ve seen all three of you guys’... bits.” I glance over at David, then I smile and continue “Let’s get hard and see who’s biggest and who’s smallest! Smallest has to do one thing to the other three!” I smiled big, and I could see David was about to protest when Mike spoke and said “Yeah... let’s do that... that sounds good.” He said it slowly, as if he had to focus to say the words, then giggled. Morris immediately leaned back some and the head began pushing its way from his fatpad. The fattest of us, and his cockhead still showed. He huffed, his huge belly jiggling softly as he sat himself back on the sofa again. Once he did that, his cock popped up more, showing itself off. Next I saw Mike sit back, his cock pushing out of the tight cocktunnel he has. The head stands tall and proud, showing itself, more than Morris was showing. Mine was obvious, the biggest, but it was noticeable that I’d put on a bunch...I had a big fatpad that covered half my big thick dick. The only one left is David. He’s bright red and fidgets a little. I walk over to him. Calmly. I run my hand over his belly...feeling it’s softness. He’s still so soft. I bring my hand down under his belly and jiggle it. I whisper to him softly “C’mon fatboy... lets see your bit.” David looked to the other two who were looking at his lap area just to see. “Ryan... I...” he said softly as I reach up and take his nipples between my fingers and tug them lightly. “Mmmmrrrrrrrrrrrr.... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...” he moaned in that way I remember. I smile...there’s no stopping now. He leans forward and lays his head against me and shivers as the feelings rock his body. I whisper into his ear “Are you hard?” He looks into my face and says “Yeah...yeah I am.” I reach under, lifting his belly up...his pad is on display for us all to see... but no cock is showing. I hold his big belly in my hands, keeping it up, and Davids eyes widen as he feels hands on his fatpad. “Stay looking at me.” I say to him and he just nods and stares into my eyes as the hands begin pushing back on his pad. Fat fingers manipulate his body, pushing against his overflowing fatpad to search and find the hidden treasure buried deep within.

Davids’ eyes rolled back and he began to groan from feeling two pairs of hands kneading into his giant thigh rolls, Morris pressing his face into Davids side, licking and sucking on one of his big fat side rolls, leaving a trail of little hickeys across. Mike was engrossed in Davids fatpad, he was so close that David could feel his breath on his balls (“Are they still there? I can feel like my pad and balls are all just... just one area now...with a hole deepset within where my cock used to be.... I feel the difference but that’s gotta just be my imagination...right?”) and finally heard Mike say at an octave just above a whisper “Fuck... it’s... it’s like his cock doesn’t even exist.” David looked down, for the first time breaking his gaze from mine and looked to Mike, who looked up and smiled at him. Davids face turned three shades of red as Mikes smile grew bigger. “I wonder what’s in here...” he said as he ran his finger around the opening to Davids fatpad, feeling how wet it was. “It’s so wet. You are so wet, David...” Mike said, and brought his finger up to Davids lips. David whimpered and licked the tip, Mike pushing his finger in some to make sure David cleaned it well. Davids eyes closed and his belly shivered and jiggled in my hands. I had melt manipulating his big stomach, heavy and full of so many delicious treats. I leaned in and kissed the side of his neck...well, where his neck would be. He’d grown quite the second chin, giving his head a soft doughy headrest of its own making. Mike took his finger and brought it back to the opening and pushed inside.

David groaned at the feeling of Mikes finger slipping into the opening of his fatpad. He was leaning against me, breathing heavy, legs spread a little farther apart to give Morris enough room to get his face into those thigh rolls that felt as if theyd gotten their own fat rolls to them. Mikes finger wiggles its way inside and around, searching for that magic button. David began to shake from all of the attention being given to his blubberous body, his brains pleasure center going into overload, but also a deep seated hunger was also coming to the fore. “Hey.” I said to him, whispering into his ear so the other two couldn’t hear “Do you realize what Mike’s doing?” David turned to look at me, his chubby face looking fuller and rounder. “.. what..” he said in a voice that sounded all small and far away. I leaned close to his ear and said “He’s penetrating you, David... Mike is penetrating your fatpad. Like it’s a p-..”

-loud noise from the room above them-

David’s red face, turning redder at knowing what I was about to say, snaps out of it and says “What was that?” I look at him and the other two fat piggies, and said with a smile “That would be a surprise for us all. Let’s go upstairs. Desserts gonna be served.”

[hollandsangel]

Omg pls write something with tom ordering a small cake for their anniversary and he asks the bakery to write something funny like: sucking the same tiddies since 2019!! and your kids accidently find the cake and starts asking a million questions right in the middle of your anniversary party?

im actually in love with this concept y'all are hilarious (ps the caption on the cake was @ddejavvu ‘s doing, thank you mei!!)

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

“ten years…ten whole years,” you beam, swinging your arms around your husbands neck.

“best ten years of my life,” tom replies, leaning in to plant a long, smiley kiss to your awaiting lips, “i’ve got the most beautiful wife, two wonderful children, what more could a man ask for?”

you hum and comb your fingers through his hair, “well, you’re beautiful wife could ask for one thing,” you smile, pinching his cheek before planting another kiss there, “the bakery called, the cake you ordered? it should be ready to pick up by one.”

tom nods and pecks your nose, “sure thing, darling,” he pulls back, holding you at arms length before collecting you in his strong arms once again, “god, i love you,” he declares, smothering you in kisses, leaving you giggling like a teenager all over again.

“tom- tom, stop it!” you try to push him away, but he’s as strong and stury as he’s ever been.

“mommy! daddy!” a small voice comes from down the hall, then two little sets of feet come trotting into your room. you can make out a flash of colourful flowers - your favourite, no doubt picked out by tom when you were at your yoga class.

“hey!” you call, stepping away from your husband and reaching your arms out for the two little ones that barelling towards you.

“daddy got you flowers!” your son beams, holding the paper-wrapped bouquet out to you.

“aren’t they pretty, mommy?” you daughter speaks up, a pretty card clutched between her small fingers.

“they’re very pretty, lovie, thank you.” you lean over and kiss both their cheeks, letting them squeeze you tight.

“you and daddy have been together since before i was even born, mom, that’s a really long time,” your son says, pointing at your wedding ring.

tom grins at you, lifting your daughter into his arms, “that’s right baby, daddy and i got married two years before you were born, and we were together for four years before that.” your son’s mouth drops open.

“that’s like forever!” he exclaims, and your younger daughter seems to agree.

– 

your parents have already shown up, and tom’s are on the way. his brothers are already in the backyard, setting up decorations with your kids, and all you can hear is the incessant laughter of your children as the boys blow up balloons.

tom’s just getting back from picking up the cake, double checking under the lid of the box and laughing to himself as he reads the lettered iceing. 

“hey, baby,” you grin when you come into the kitchen, “ooh is this the cake? can i see–?” 

“no!” tom’s eyes get wide, and he quickly closes the lid so you can’t see.

you step away, “ohhkay,” say, rummaging through a drawer for a lighter.

“it’s a surprise, i think you’ll like it,” tom says, settling his hands on your hips from behind you, pecking your neck.

“mmk,” you can’t help but smile and lean back into him, “are gonna come outside? sam is about to start the grill,”

tom hums and nods, delivering one more peck before following you to the backyard. that’s how you stay for most of the evening, tom wrapped around you as the two of you putter around the grass, talking and mingling with family and friends. 

“ten years, we might need to get you guys a plate with the number written on it fancy lettering,” tuwain laughs, slapping tom on the shoulder.

both of you laugh, and after tom takes a sip of his beer he says, “right, we could serve the cake on it, think that would be quite fitting,” he’s beaming, just like he has been all night, basking in the celebration of your love.

“mommy?” you daughter asks, tugging on your sundress.

“hey, lovie, where’ve you been? were you inside with your brother?” she nods, but there’s a furrow in her sweet little brows.

“mommy, what does ‘condom’ mean?” she asks, drawing little shapes on your leg with her finger. she’d just been learning to read, and that was the last question you’d expected her to ask you.

tom other hand, seems to have a bit more of a clue, and he chokes on a swallow of his beer, “you know what, i think it’s time for cake, actually,” he says, reaching his hand out to your little girl, “c’mon, sweetie,” he sets the bottle down, and you follow him, looking back at harry who’s cackling to himself.

“tom?” you whisper, and he squeezes your hand, “why did our six year old daughter just ask us what ‘condom’ means?” but he just laughs and pulls you into the kitchen.

on the counter, in a box with the lid flipped open (and a little swipe of frosting the size of an eight year old boy’s finger in the corner) sits the anniversary cake that tom had piecked out.

 “over 1000 condoms in ten years and only two of them broke <3 happy anniversary”

“thomas stanley, oh my god,” you lift your hands to cover your mouth, and then your eyes and your face, “i can’t believe you,” it’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan, muffled behind your palms.

“what? you don’t like it?” he asks, grinning like a cheshire at you, “i thought it was quite clever.”

“i hate you,” you’re smiling too, reaching out for him and kissing him with a smiling mouth. his grin gets wider and he wraps his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly.

“you love me, happy ten years, my love.” he mutters.

“you still haven’t told me what a condom is!!” comes a little voice from behind you.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Eleven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader   Rating: T   Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing, a lil angst, some fluff...Well, mostly fluff. Summary: The wedding day had been much more relaxed— for you, anyway.

You would’ve given anything to spend the entire day in bed with Marcus. You relished in his soothing touches, relaxing little murmurs. But you eventually pried yourself out of his arms, unpacked the few things you’d hastily thrown into your toiletries bag, and rejoined the family downstairs.

You were so tired from the work you’d done the night before, and felt so worn from what you’d admitted to the Pikes. But rather than hang around the house, you went with Marnie and Jill to drop checks off to the vendors, and helped to set up the space for the rehearsal dinner. You wanted to show them that there were no hard feelings, especially after they’d apologized several more times at breakfast. Besides, you needed the distraction. You hadn’t heard anything back from Melinda about the information that you’d given her or the team in regards to your grandmother’s potential involvement in forging Leda and the Swan (potential— you were still insisting that it was still possible that it wasn’t her; that painting showed signs of age, wear-and-tear; the materials were old; you didn’t even know where she was—); your mind drifted back to the shock on the Pike’s faces from that morning every few minutes. It was odd, knowing that Jill and Marnie now knew so much more about you, but still chattered amiably with you. If anything, this incident, your absolute honesty, seemed to have brought you closer to the family. Odd. Odd, but comforting.

-- The most vindicating moment came when Kimberly arrived at the rehearsal dinner and spotted you. The color seemed to drain from her face completely, her smile dropping in a second. You just offered her a bright grin and a quick wave. “Who are you waving at?” Marcus asked, looking around. You looked up at him, finding that his smile disappeared just as quickly, his face darkening at the sight of her. “Don’t,” You urged softly, wrapping your arm around his middle, “We’re here for Marnie, and we’re fine. There’s no need for a scene.” “I can think of a reason.” “C’mon.... Marky.” His lips quirked into a reluctant smile at your teasing, and you smoothed your hand over his side as he sighed through his nose. “Now is not the time to say anything,” You added. “...Looks like I won’t have to.” You frowned, turning back to see Jill and Marnie approaching Kimberly. Your eyes widened slightly. “What are they doing?” You asked. “I do not know,” Marcus admitted quietly. You couldn’t hear the conversation from there, but you could just make out a flash of irritation on Kimberly’s face, a rising flush of frustration before she stomped toward the door. Your brows rose sharply as she left and Jill and Marnie disappeared back into the crowd of revelers. Marcus hummed, satisfied. “You were right,” He agreed, resting his chin on your shoulder, “No need for a scene.” -- 

You leaned back against Marcus’ chest, smiling softly as you watched Hazel and Marnie do their first dance. Marcus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, his cheek rested against your temple. He swayed the two of you back and forth to the music. The ceremony had gone perfectly. Jill and Marcus had both cried a bit; you’d even seen Walter shed a couple of tears. The wedding day had been much more relaxed— for you, anyway. Marcus had been keeping close at the reception especially, and you were happy to be held. You’d met Marcus’ ex-wife, Deanna, and for all of the nervousness that had welled up in you, you’d found that she was very amiable, even sweet. She and Marcus treated one another like old friends, teased and joked. You didn’t feel intimidated by their ease. She’d been more than kind to you. It was nice to see Marcus so relaxed with his family and friends. You’d found yourself watching him throughout the day, and realizing just how much you would miss him. Not just the closeness that came with being near someone, but the closeness that came with being around Marcus. You were certain that once you returned to D.C., things would return to the work-centric relationship that the two of you had previously, and that was so odd to consider. The man now knew so many of your secrets: your favorite foods, books, pastimes… Where you were ticklish. Not that many people had such information. You were going to miss his family, too. “What are you thinking about?” He murmured.

You were thinking that you wanted to freeze this moment. You wanted to keep it somewhere safe, hold onto it for the days when the world felt like it was dark and closing in-- days that were surely just around the corner. You wanted to memorize what it felt like to be cuddled against Marcus’ chest, to be held like you were precious; you wanted to keep this feeling of warmth, this feeling of safety, and happiness.

You wanted this to be real. “...How happy they are,” You answered, smiling as Hazel rested her forehead against Marnie’s. -- 

“Okay, if you’re not gonna finish that frosting, give it,” Marcus said. You rolled your eyes, pushing the excess icing that you’d cleared off of the piece of cake onto Marcus’ plate. “You’re gonna have such a headache in the morning,” You teased, tugging your plate back toward yourself. “Am not,” Marcus chuckled before nudging your leg with his, “You having fun?” “I’m with you, of course I’m having fun,” You said honestly. Marcus grinned as he reached out, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m glad you’re here,” He murmured, “I wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else.” You turned your head, kissing Marcus softly, and giggling after a moment. He leaned back, brow furrowed. “What is it?” “You taste like frosting,” You laughed, unable to help it. Marcus grinned, dipping his finger in the frosting he’d scraped from your plate. “You know what?” He asked before plopping the dollop on your nose. You groaned, batting his hand away and reaching for your napkin. “I don’t need any more icing, Pike, I’m sweet enough.” 

--

You settled down against Marcus, yawning widely. It was nearly three in the morning. Your feet were sore and you were all danced out, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much fun. You reached up, rubbing Marcus’ smooth cheek. “Can’t believe you shaved,” You pouted a little. “You miss the uh… The beard that was to-be?” Marcus asked. “I was getting used to it. Looked good,” You rested your chin on his chest. He smiled, stroking his hand over your shoulder. “You have everything you need for tomorrow?” “Mhm.” “Flight leaves in...What, eight hours?” Marcus glanced toward the clock on his dresser, “We should get some sleep.” You grunted, turning your head and closing your eyes. “Alright,” You mumbled, “Sleep now.” After a few moments of quiet, you heard Marcus say, “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” “Mm?” “There’s been a break in the da Vinci.” Fear gripped you as your eyes opened, your heart ticking up in your chest. You were quiet, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, you glanced up, finding him half-asleep already. “Tell you in the morning,” He finally mumbled, yawning widely. You smiled, leaning up and pecking his jaw. “Sweet dreams, Agent Pike,” You murmured. “Mm,” He hummed, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, “Sweet dreams, baby.” The murmur thrilled you, and you dropped another kiss to Marcus’ clothed chest before closing your eyes again. 

-- “Now you come back and visit,” Walter patted your shoulder before letting go of you. “I’d really love that,” You nodded, meaning it. You turned to Jill, smiling as she drew you into her arms and hugged you tightly. “You’ll call when you land,” She said. “We will,” You promised. “I told you we would, mom,” Marcus chuckled. He waited until she’d pulled away before leaning in to hug her. “Just, remember to— He forgets.” “I will make sure he remembers,” You smiled. “Alright, fly safe! Well, as safe as you can as passengers,” Jill glanced between the two of you, smiling as Walter tucked Jill under his arm. “Alright,” Marcus took hold of your hand, “Let’s go.” -- You took in Marcus’ profile as he swiped through the onscreen entertainment options. He was distracted, which gave you plenty of time to just...Watch. You remembered the tightness in his jaw on the previous flight, the way his leg had been bouncing. He glanced over at you, doing a double-take when he saw you looking at him. “What is it?” He asked. “You are so relaxed right now,�� You smiled, “You were practically shaking the plane when we left D.C.” Marcus chuckled, leaning back in his seat a little bit, “Well… We’re done, it’s… Over, you know. It worked. Like holy shit, it worked,” He tipped his head back, looking up, “I just lied to my family for a week.” “Hey,” You soothed, nudging his arm with yours, “We just lied to your family for a week.” He chuckled, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “Yeah,” He agreed, “I could not have done this without you.” “Maybe next time you’ll just let Marnie set you up with Kimberly again.” “After the shit she pulled? Not a chance,” Marcus shook his head. He took hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers, “I still can’t believe you told my parents...What you did.” You looked down at your joined hands. “I kinda can’t believe I did, either,” You admitted quietly, “But I trust them… I trust you.” 

There was a pause before Marcus untangled his hand from yours. You felt panic snake through your veins, but Marcus’ hand raised and cupped your cheek. He drew you in for a sweet kiss. You leaned up into it, resting your hand on Marcus’ thigh and sighing softly. He rested his forehead against yours as the kiss broke, and you kept your eyes closed for a few moments, reveling in the feeling.

“I should probably stop doing that, huh,” He said softly. Please don’t, You thought.

“...Probably,” You conceded aloud.

Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo  ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl  ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx ; @ajeff855 ; @hellovanessax​ ; @drinkingwhileblogging​ ; @meanperegrine​ ; @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ ; @autumnleaves1991-blog ; @xoxo-callie ; @mentally-dating-din-djarin​ ; @frenchyjuju

[blu-joons]

When He Finds That You’ve Fainted ~ GOT7 Reaction

Mark:

Walking through the front door was the moment he’d been waiting for all day after a long day at work, and seeing your car already parked up was the icing on the cake. His smile was wide as he walked into his apartment, that was until his eyes fell on your body laid in the middle of the hallway, doubled over against the walls.

“Y/N!” He yelled, dropping everything, and racing over to your side. His hands gently shook your body in the hope that you’d just be asleep, but the lack of response from you confirmed his worst thoughts.

He was calm enough to know these things weren’t easy fixes, taking a seat beside you with his hand in yours, waiting until you woke up. It felt like a lifetime he was waiting until you finally woke up, staring across at him.

“When did you get home?” You asked, looking away from his stare. “I’m sorry you had to see me this way,” you added.

His head shook, squeezing gently against your hand, “it doesn’t matter to me what you look like or what state you’re in, I just want to help you,” he frowned, helping you get more comfortable as you began to cease up.

“I don’t even know what happened, I wish I could explain what’s happened, but I can’t,” you frowned, laying closer into his body.

“Sometimes these things just happen, without being able to explain it.”

Jaebum:

He was more than happy to leave you in his studio whilst he went off to rehearsal, making sure you were alright before heading off. It was something the two of you had done countless times before, but never had it ended like this. “JB!” Youngjae yelled, bursting into the rehearsal, “you need to come with me, now.”

“What’s happened?” JB asked, already running before Youngjae had a chance to answer. He never received an answer until Youngjae pushed his studio door open and revealed your figure laid out with Jinyoung staying beside you.

The two of them soon left to give you a bit more space in the cramped room, as JB laid down beside you, waiting for your eyes to slowly open. As soon as they did, he felt his heart race at how tired you were.

“Why are you on the floor?” You frowned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t suppose you could get me a drink, please?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” he stuttered, finding a water bottle around the studio, taking the lid off whilst you sat up and passing it to you. “You do remember that you just fainted, don’t you? Why are you so calm about this?”

Your eyes widened, “I just thought I’d fallen asleep for a bit, I didn’t realise I’d actually fainted,” you blushed, covering your cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re awake again now, and that’s what matters.”

Jackson:

His smile grew as he walked up to his apartment to see the light on, excitedly opening the door and calling out your name. He stood for a moment and waited for you to appear, but you never did. He began to walk around the house, following all the lights that were on as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“Babe!” He yelled as he walked into the bedroom and saw you laid out just in front of the bed. “Oh god,” he muttered, trying to keep himself come. He dropped to his knees beside you, trying his best to make you comfortable. “Please,” he whispered.

Tears threatened to spill as the more time passed the more frantic he became, touching across your body for any sign of movement. It was torturous to him until finally he watched as your left eye opened, and then your right.

“Your home,” you whispered, feeling a throbbing pain in the top of your head. “What’s going on?” You asked cluelessly.

“You must have fainted,” he frowned, taking a hold of your hand, “what’s been going on?” He questioned, squeezing your hand gently. “Do you want anything for a moment? I think it’s best if you stay here for a while.”

You smiled with a light shake of your head, “I think I just need a minute to process what’s just happened, and then I’ll be alright.”

“Just take your time, I’ll be right here for whenever you’re ready.”

Jinyoung:

The only thing he knew he could be in moments like these were logical and try anything to help you feel better. With that being said, blankets and cushions were all around you, a glass of water and tablets by his side for you. He wasn’t quite sure when you collapsed, and he hated that he wasn’t there to help.

“I’m here now,” he continually whispered as he played the waiting game to see when you’d wake up. “I hate that you’ve suffered all by yourself, you must have been so scared when you fell,” he mumbled, feeling all kinds of guilt.

Straight away he knew he shouldn’t have worked the extra hour at the studio, and he knew he should have taken you up on your offer of lunch today, all things that he could have done to prevent this from happening, but he declined.

Eventually, he watched as your fingers wiggled and your eyes opened up. “Hi,” you stuttered, waking up and seeing Jinyoung leaning over you as the first thing. “I’m sorry this has happened.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” he quickly assured you, draping one of the many blankets over you. “If anyone should be apologising, it’s me. I should have been around more to help you and not let you get into such a state.”

Your head shook in response, “neither of us could have ever seen this coming, someone fainting isn’t something that can be predicted.”

“Still…I should have done more; I should have been there with you more.”

Youngjae:

He was often used to Coco’s barks filling the house, but the sheer volume of her barks as he made dinner was enough to even divert his attention. “This better be good,” he sighed, following the sound into your bedroom, spotting her sat down beside your figure laid out cold across the foot of the bed frame.

His stomach dropped for being so dismissive, moving Coco out of the way so he could take a closer look at you. He wasn’t quite sure what to do in these situations, opting to just sit and hope that you’d wake up whenever your body was ready.

He held Coco tightly in his lap as she too began to stress about the lack of reaction from you, barking at you continuously until finally your lashes fluttered, quickly shutting at the brightness that the bedroom light gave off.

“She’s awake,” Youngjae smiled, placing Coco beside him so his hands could hold onto you. “How are you, do you feel alright?”

“I think so,” you mused, slowly turning your body as you felt the aches from laying on the floor. “I don’t even know what happened, although one thing I’m certain of is I definitely just fell off the bed,” you smiled.

His eyes rolled, “I’m glad you can laugh about this, do you know how scared the two of us were? Coco’s never been as frantic as she was just then.”

“I’m sorry, both of you, but I’m alright. I’ll be fine in just a moment.”

BamBam:

No one quite knew what to do as they hurried to catch your falling body in the wings of the stage, trying to hide you from BamBam’s sight. They thought they’d done enough, until JB caught sight of the commotion, running straight to BamBam, and pushing him off the stage so that he could be there with you.

What’s happening?” He nervously asked, pushing through the crowd of stage crew to see your body. His own body collapsed beside you as he saw you, feeling tears threaten to spill as panic overwhelmed him. “What do we do?”

With the help of the crew around him BamBam eventually calmed down, sitting beside you until eventually you woke up to see a swarm of people around you, and BamBam’s voice letting go of several sighs of relief.

“Your performance,” you mumbled as soon as you remembered where you were. “You can’t be with me; you’re needed out there.”

“I’m needed with you,” he clarified, intertwining his hand in with yours. “It was JB that told me to come and be with you anyway. Please don’t worry about the performance right now, my priority is wholeheartedly on you.”

You nodded, slowly trying to sit yourself up. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined it, from what I did see of it though, you were doing really well.”

“You’ve not ruined anything, let’s just focus on getting you better.”

Yugyeom:

His eyes had never been so wide then when he saw you collapsed in front of the sofa, with your book crushed on the floor beside you. He knew there was no time to start freaking out as he ran over towards you, pushing the table out of the way before adjusting your body into a comfortable position, sitting down beside you.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens,” he chuckled, brushing his hands through his freshly washed hair. He didn’t know what to do as he desperately pleaded for some sort of sign from you as soon as you could give him one.

He didn’t move a muscle out of fear until finally a small groan came from you as you woke up to a horrendous pain in your back. Yugyeom could tell immediately what you were getting at, grabbing a pillow, and placing it under you.

“You gave me such a fright,” he frowned, as finally the emotion of it all hit him, knowing you were alright. “What’s been going on? What’s brought all of this on?”

“I don’t know Yugs, one minute I was fine reading, and then the next I just felt this weight pushing me down, I’m so sorry,” you sighed, feeling your own eyes water. He was quick to wipe away your tears and calm you down.

His touch was cold as he tried to force a smile to his face, “I’m not letting you out of my sight at all for the foreseeable future, I’m going to be right with you through everything.”

“You’re worrying too much, I’m fine, I promise you Yugyeom.”

---

Masterlist

[kythed]

cold war

semi eita x reader

synopsis: how many degrees does it take to melt semi eita? (ficmas day 2!)

“Why would you ever apply for a job at an ice rink,” he says, tone thickly frosted with annoyance, “if you can’t even skate?”

You blink up at your co-worker from the ice, the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably damp. Giggling children and lovesick couples glide by, all far more proficient skaters than you are. You offer the boy standing above you sheepish smile. “It just pays better than babysitting, I guess.”

He doesn’t laugh, just exhales heavily through his nose and hoists you up by the forearm with an unnecessarily harsh grip.

“Ouch,” you say indignantly, but the complaint dies on your lips when he shoots you a glare steely enough to slice through marble. Though the obvious irritation clouding his angular features renders you unable to fully appreciate his good looks, he’s the definition of severe beauty, all fair tousled hair and slate grey eyes.

“Learn how. Or else.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and effortlessly skates away to go rescue a toddler hanging onto the edge of the rink, crying for her mother. You watch as he lifts her up gently and sets her on her feet with an affectionate pat on the head. Then, almost as if he can feel you staring, he whips around and narrows his eyes with an expression that sends a chill down your spine.

You frown, but the pout swiftly turns into a scheming smile.

Semi Eita is cold. But not so cold he can’t be melted.

--

Operation Melt Semi starts small. The next day, you get to the rink early and wait for him to arrive. When he walks through the door, shrugging off his heavy parka, you sidle up to him and offer him a cheery “Morning, Semi!” along with a beaming grin.

“Morning,” he says, not even sparing you a glance as he ducks into the men’s lockers. Your face falls. Damn it. This might be a little harder than you’d previously anticipated.

You try again that Friday when you catch him in the coat room while you’re both sitting on the bench and changing into your skates. He knots his laces almost aggressively, pulling them so tight they cut angry red lines across his palms.

“Your hair looks good like that,” you say tentatively. It’s parted down the middle today, and it really does suit him. “Very nineties.”

Semi gives you an incredulous look before briefly glancing into a reflective window. He turns back, reaches into his pocket, and unwraps a piece of gum without offering you one. You bristle with annoyance but keep the sunny smile plastered across your face-- your cheeks are beginning to numb.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Um, yeah, kinda.” You cringe inwardly when your voice cracks.

“Gross,” he says, jumping up and leaving you to struggle with your laces. You sigh and slump down. Bastard.

On Saturday, however, and every day you see him after that, he has his hair parted down the middle. He doesn’t mention it again, and neither do you, but you do feel a small sense of victory every time he runs a careful hand through his silvery locks, setting them in place after lapping the rink.

--

A couple weeks later, you’ve just gotten off your morning shift, a little bruised and battered (both physically and emotionally). Semi had still been forced to save you from the cruel, slippery ice a couple times, of course, so you’d taken the opportunity to thank him profusely, and you swear you saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he pulled you up once. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head into the break room. Semi and a couple of other rink attendants look up from their phones. “Anyone want a coffee? I’m gonna make a run to the nearest Starbucks for a latte.”

“No,” Semi says automatically, face blank, and you roll your eyes internally. Of course he’d decline. As your other co-workers rattle off their orders (one small caramel mocha, one earl grey tea), you resolve to buy him a drink anyways.

If I were an annoyingly attractive asshole, you muse, squinting your eyes at the Starbucks menu ten minutes later, what would I order?

When you return to the rink, breathless and bearing a heavily laden, flimsy cardboard tray, you thrust a steaming paper cup of coffee into Semi’s hand. He stares at you, face painted with something resembling surprise.

“I said I didn’t want anything,” he says, taking the lid off to skeptically peer inside. He glances up at you.“Is this a blonde roast?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. It’s all you can do to keep the smug grin off your face as Semi inhales the mellow, milky bitterness, letting the steam curl onto his face in the cold ice rink air.

“How did you kno--”

“I could just tell,” you hum, plopping down on the couch as you take a long drink of your own latte. The vanilla syrup generously pumped inside is almost as sweetly gratifying as the bewildered expression on Semi’s face. He just shakes his head, still staring at the cup in his hand.

“Well, how much was it? I’m paying you back.”

“It’s on me,” you say casually, smiling serenely at the way his mouth opens and closes like a shocked goldfish. “Don’t worry about it.”

Semi doesn’t respond as he sets the coffee down on the table, but later you see him sipping on it while he plays some little puzzle game on his phone. Mission accomplished.

--

You’re the last one to leave the rink that day, so you lock up and double check each door before skipping into the coat room to grab your bag. The fluorescent lights flicker sporadically, casting an artificial lightning over the benches. As you reach for the bag, squinting, you catch a little yellow post-it sticking out from its smallest pocket.

Thanks, it reads, messy script scrawled in blue ink. Folded beneath it is a slightly wrinkled five dollar bill.

Despite yourself, a small smile spreads across your face. The thawing has begun.

--

It’s an uphill journey, of course, but with each victorious battle you inch a little closer to winning the war. Semi isn’t invincible, and the cracks in his icy facade are beginning to show.

He’s a little more patient, a little more understanding. His small gestures betray his hand as he shows you how to angle your skates to stop on the ice, as he gives you a pack of tissues when you have a runny nose. He still manages to sneak in an eye roll or snide side comment, of course-- “Seriously, you can’t even brake? You’re hopeless,” or “You shouldn’t have come into work today if you’re sick. You’ll pass all your germs to me.” But still, it’s baby steps, you remind yourself, clutching onto his arm as you come to a grinding halt on the ice, snatching the tissues from his hand with a pained smile and a forced “Thanks, Semi.”

One day, you have to take a shift immediately after leaving a family friend’s wedding. It had been a lovely ceremony (with really, really good chocolate cake), but you hadn’t had time to change into work clothes, so you find yourself rushing through the doors still wearing a cocktail dress and heels, tugging your backpack onto your shoulder and praying your manager doesn’t notice you’re a few minutes late.

Semi is at the counter cleaning a pair of skates, meticulously wiping the blades dry. His phone rests beside him, some sort of pulsing electropop trickling softly from its speakers. He’s nodding his head slightly, keeping pace with the rhythm, and his face is calm, devoid of the irritation you’ve grown so familiar with.

You clear your throat. “Uh, hey.”

Semi looks up, and for a moment, time stops. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat as his gaze shakily makes its way down from the tops of your bare shoulders, to your exposed neckline, to the skirt swishing just above your knees. The dress is a soft pink chiffon, more delicate and feminine than anything you’d ever worn into work.

There’s a sudden heat, a jolt in the pit of your stomach as he meets your eyes again, and you swear he feels it too. It seems as though the temperature in the rink has instantaneously risen twenty degrees-- you think you might start sweating.

“You look…” Semi breathes, but then he stops himself, choking down whatever his next words might’ve been. He furrows his brows and tears his stare away, looking back down at the forgotten skates.

There’s a brief beat of silence, dappled with only the occasional child’s shriek of joy from on the ice.

“You’d better get changed,” he says finally, pointedly looking anywhere but you.

“Okay,” you say, unable to come up with anything more sophisticated. Your mind is empty of anything but the memory of those cold grey eyes growing suddenly hot, gazing into yours with a warmth of indescribable magnitude. As you slowly walk into the womens’ lockers, something dawns on you. There might be a different way to melt the ice prince.

--

Work is different, after that. Your days are no longer characterized by torment, by rude jabs and scowls from Semi that poke at you right where you’re sore. Instead, they’re not-so-subtly woven with lingering glances, with “accidental” touches at just the right moment to send an unwanted shudder to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

Once, when you’re working the counter, fitting customers and renting out skates, Semi skids off the ice with a spray of snow and clinks his way over to you, blades meeting the tile floor metallically.

“I’m gonna change these out for a different pair,” he tells you, and you nod, acutely aware of his close proximity. As he slips behind you, he touches your lower back lightly, just enough so you know he’s there. A breath catches in your throat when his fingers linger just a little longer than necessary, leaving their imprints burning on your skin, even through the thick fabric of your sweater.

He doesn’t look at you when he comes back out, but the back of his neck is flushed pink. You catch a whiff of his cologne-- it’s woody and spicy, comforting like a distant childhood memory. You fight the sudden impulse to launch yourself into his arms and bury your face in his hair, inhaling that holiday-esque scent.

No, no, no, you scold yourself as you watch him slide back onto the ice. Not Semi Eita. Anyone but Semi Eita.

You’d set out to make peace with him, to make work life a little more bearable for the both of you. You hadn’t expected yourself to start looking forward to seeing him each day, to have your chest constrict, the air crushed from your lungs like a soda can underfoot every time he looked your way. All you’d wanted to do was melt his icy exterior-- not let yourself get scalded by his heat.

A week later, when you enter the rink, there’s an impossibly tall redhead leering over Semi, who’s idly filling in a timetable on the front counter. He’s chattering away in a lilting, sing-songy tone while Semi pays him exactly zero attention.

“--but the last episode was really of pristine quality, you know? None of that filler crap, just great writing, excellent animation, and-- oooooh.” When ginger giant notices you, a joker-like grin stretches across his face. “And who’s this?”

“I--”

“She’s nobody,” Semi cuts in, slamming the timetable shut and jumping over the counter. He glares up at his friend, looking a bit like a disgruntled house cat attempting to bully a tiger. “I think it’s about time for you to get going.”

The friend ignores Semi’s attempt at intimidation, instead turning his attention to you. He takes your hand in a way that makes it unclear whether or not he’s about to shake it or kiss it. You stifle a giggle. “Well, hello, ‘Nobody.’ Pretty name. My name’s Tendou Satori, but you can call me--”

Semi cuts him off with a sharp jab to the ribs and Tendou doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach overdramatically. “Not her.”

“Ouch, Semi-Semi,” Tendou gasps, though a few stray giggles escape with his theatrics. He glances at Semi, then to you, then back to him, apparently having some sort of silent epiphany. His face lights up as gleefully as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “Wait… is this the girl you’re always ta--”

Semi jabs him again, harder this time, and Tendou yelps, stumbling backwards. You cringe as he knocks over a stack of ice walkers— as entertaining as this squabble is, you’ll be the one to clean up the mess. Then Semi stalks over and drags him back by the wrist with the rough swagger of a sheriff arresting the town’s most wanted. He glowers at Tendou, face dark as a thunderstorm. “Tendou, I swear to God, if you so much say another word I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

“Never knew you were so kinky, Semi-Semi!” Tendou preemptively dodges any possible counterattack and turns to you, punctuating his next phrase with a wink: “Have fun with that.”

Later, once Semi has successfully ushered Tendou out the door, you turn to him, eyebrow raised. “What did he mean by ‘have fun with that,’ Eita?”

“Nothing,” Semi says, though his guarded tone leads you to suspect otherwise. He offers you a piece of gum before taking one himself and slipping the sleeve back into his bag. “He’s just like that. Also, since when have we been on a first name basis?”

You blush. You hadn’t even realized you’d called him by his first name. Then you smile a little, popping the gum into your mouth and folding the wrapper into a neat little square. “If you’d prefer, I could call you Semi-Semi as well.”

Semi pales, presumably watching as a vision of his life tormented by two Tendous flashes before his eyes. Then he looks back to you and clears his throat. “Eita is fine.”

As you go about your day, robotically hooking skates back on the shelf, wiping down the snack bar tables, stacking chair, and shivering the whole time, what Tendou was about to say rings in your ears: Are you the girl he’s always talking about?

You can’t help but wonder what exactly Semi says about you.

--

It’s a Saturday evening when you approach Semi to ask for a skating lesson.

“Please,” you say, trailing him around the edges of the rink like a lost puppy. He’s picking up stray bits of trash from beneath the benches— sticky pieces of candy wrappers and cigarette butts left behind by unconscientious skaters. “I just want to stop falling so often-- it’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it is embarrassing,” Semi says, suddenly standing upright and turning to face you. He leans close, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a sly half smile. “Sucks to suck.”

“Eita,” you say again, reaching out to tug the edge of his sleeve. He glances at your fingers tightly clutching the thick wool of his sweater and then back up to you. You put on your best pleading pout. “Come on, just for tonight? Just like an hour on the ice, tops.”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. He glances at his watch and sighs. “I have to get home by nine… I guess we can stay for an hour. But only an hour.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Thanks, Semi-Semi,” you say with a grin, and he scowls.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Too bad.”

--

Semi is a surprisingly good teacher. He pokes fun at you, of course, mocking the way you cling to him when he tries to teach you to skate in a circle, or the way you clumsily flail your arms to keep your balance, but he’s patient. He’s gentle when he corrects your form, when he offers you a hand with which to pull yourself up.

It’s only the two of you now, twenty minutes after closing time. All the lights in the rink are off but the large one directly overhead, a spotlight that illuminates the pale, glassy expanse of the ice. The scrape of your blades over the ice echoes throughout the rink as Semi holds your waist lightly, trying to guide you backwards.

“I don’t understand,” you complain, shuffling backwards and trying your hardest to avoid stepping on Semi’s skates. “If I need to go the other direction, I can just turn around, can’t I?”

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tightening his grip on your waist as you wobble slightly. “Saves time. Just keep your toe pointed inwards and move your skates in curves. It’s not that hard.”

“It’s not that hard,” you say, imitating him in a squeaky, high pitched tone.

You hear him snort behind you. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“That’s exactly what you sound like,” you say, looking down at your feet. Toes in. Skates move in curves. “Hey, wait, am I doing it right?”

You glide backwards, slowly, hesitantly. Semi moves with you, hands still hovering at your sides just in case. “Almost. Bend your knees a little, that’ll make it easier to balance.”

“Oh, okay. I-- shit!”

In an entirely ungraceful lurching movement, you lose your balance, grabbing Semi’s wrist in a futile attempt to remain upright. The next moment unfolds in slow motion as you fall backwards, pulling a horrified, wide-eyed Semi on top of you as your back hits the ice, his entire body sprawled over your smaller frame.

You lay in stunned silence for a second, feeling your spine throb and the cold of the ice already beginning to seep through your clothes. Semi’s face is inches from yours-- his breath smells like the spearmint gum he’s always chewing, and, for the first time, you notice subtle green flecks in his grey eyes.

“Sorry,” you finally whisper, staring at him. “I didn’t mean to.”

He doesn’t shift himself off of you, just stares back at you with furrowed brows. Almost imperceptibly, his gaze flicks down to your lips and back up again. Your breath catches in your throat-- but then a wide, bright grin breaks across his face, and it’s like the sun, brilliantly slicing through a gloomy mass of storm clouds with its sharp golden rays.

“You-- you’re-- you’re such a shit skater,” he chokes out between guffaws. You can feel his chest heaving with each laugh, and an angry flush crawls over your cheeks.

“It wasn’t my fault!” you protest, attempting to shove him off of you. He doesn’t budge. “You weren’t giving me enough space to move!”

“You should’ve seen your face,” he says, dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “God, it was so funny.”

“Well, sorry I’m not as good at skating as you are, Mr. I Do Everything Perfectly The First Time,” you scoff, again trying to push him off. Semi cocks an eyebrow and smirks, settling his forearms on either side of your head. Your heart beats erratically at his nearness. “And can you please move? You’re crushing my lungs.”

“Nope.”

You scowl. The repressed irritation from weeks and weeks of trying to get on his good side strains at the boundaries of your self control. “Get off, Semi.”

“Make me.” His eyes gleam with silent laughter as you struggle for a moment, unable to do anything more than wiggle beneath him.

You huff, resting your head back down on the ice in defeat. “You’re fucking heavy, Eita. What did you do before this, eat a buffet out of business?”

Semi chuckles, and it’s a low, raspy sound that vibrates in your chest. He leans in close, angling his face slightly. His lips hover just above yours, and you can feel his breath fan over your mouth with his next words: “You’re so damn annoying.”

There’s a beat of silence. A heavy, stifling tension hangs in the air, a live wire with crackling electricity dancing across its taut line. You stare at him, unblinking. Daring him to do something.

And then he’s kissing you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other slipping under your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you hungrily, recklessly, like he’s been fasting and your lips are the first food he’s seen for months. You grip the back of his sweater as you kiss him back, fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He tastes like mint and something sweet; it’s messy, there’s tongue and teeth, and your jeans are wet from the ice— but at that moment, you think you’ve never been kissed better. A warmth spreads from his lips to yours, making its way down your throat into deep within your chest, where it burns your lungs and throbs almost painfully.

Though Semi Eita may be cold, his kisses are anything but.

When you break away he’s in quite the state, breathless with a flushed face and disheveled hair. You must look much the same, you think as you inhale deeply, blinking away the stars behind your eyes.

He sits up, resting on your hips. “Well, then.”

“Well, then,” you echo, propping yourself up on your forearms.

“You’re a shit kisser, too.” Semi grins when you gasp and punch him in the arm. You open your mouth to fire back, but before you can get a word out he leans down quick and kisses you again, soft and light. “It’s okay. We can practice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“How generous of you.” You try to sound sarcastic but the words fall flat under Semi’s gaze. He smiles again and clambers onto his feet, offering you a hand.

“You wanna get dinner or something?”

--

You hold his hand on the walk out to his car, too, fingers tightly interlocked. He hums something under his breath, squeezing your palm every so often.

It’s freezing outside. As Semi fumbles with his keys, you rub your arms, trying in vain to brush away the stubborn goosebumps.

When you climb into the passenger seat, Semi lets you choose the radio station and, before he pulls out of the lot, he silently taps his cheek for a kiss. You roll your eyes but nonetheless lean over to give him a quick peck.

“Thanks,” he says, putting an arm over the back of your seat to pull out of the space. A slow acoustic song comes on, reminiscent of thick woolen blankets and cheerfully flickering flames.

The cold war is over, and you’re not quite sure who melted who.

“Mhm,” you hum. Semi offers you his upturned palm without taking his eyes of the road, so you slip your hand into his, enjoying the way his fingers envelop yours. There’s a light winter rain outside, washing away any remnants of frost on windowpanes and waterpipes.

But, frankly, you don’t really care.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

You remember that soft heat rut ask you got a while ago? I’td be SO great to see you write something like that with the construction boys, love me sum good soft smut

Oooh good point there anon, good point. Let's see what I can whip up 👍

Scrapper and Mix had been together for a long, long time. In that amount of time, Scrapper had come to notice how stuff changed. Sari got older, Arcee and Ratchet tied the knot, Bumblebee became a member of the elite guard, etc. One thing that didn't change? His Mixie.

"Aaand...done!"

Scrapper had just finished setting everything up. Their bed was nice and cozy, full of Mix's favorite pillows and blankets. Freshly washed and still warm from the dryer. Pair that with new, fresh towels, and even a basket full of his favorite snacks. Mix and Scrapper grew as bots, but heat cycles were something that never changed. Mix's was bound to hit at sometime today (Scrapper always marked it on the calender), so Scrapper was ready. He took today off from work, and had only JUST started to finish cleaning.

"I think I still have time."

Scrapper hopped into their showers, helping himself to a cleaning. He wasn’t sure if he had time for a nice hot wax like he wanted, but at least he got that soap Mix loved so much. He always liked cinnamon apple. He finished quickly, and was in the middle of drying himself off, when the doorbell rang. Scrapper put the towel on his head, and dashed for the door.

"Mixie! You're home! You were runnin' late, thought I had more time!"

Mix chuckled, lifting up the bag in his hand for Scrapper to see.

"I needed a drive to clear my head, then I decided to pick up somethin' for tonight."

Scrapper peeked into the bag, damn near giddy. Mix got not only oil, but the GOOD oil, stuff that wasn't at all cheap.

"Aw! Well don't you make me feel all special. Come here."

He held onto his cheeks, and smooched his lips. Mix's body couldn't help itself. He was already getting the heat symptoms; a bit more frisky than usual, a bit foggy in the head. It was why Scrapper didn't give him too hard of a time as he grabbed his aft, despite the fact that it made him jump.

"Scrappy-"

"Ah ah ah. You know the rules. Shower. I JUST cleaned, and ya still got cement on your servos."

"Thought you liked that."

"Not enough to wash everything, especially before we get started. Shower time, Mixie cakes."

He swiped the bag from his hand, winking at him ad he made his way into the kitchen. Mix looked at him longily, before he forced himself to hit the showers. Scrapper grabbed a bucket, poured some ice into it, and after grabbing some cups, walked back upstairs. He set the bucket down next to all the snacks, and he wasn't gonna lie, he was impressed with the set up.

"I think I outdid myself this time around. He better like it."

He double checked that he had everything, when Mix walked into the room, towel at his waist. He looked at the set up, lightly shaking his head.

"Ya maroon. You way overdid this shit again. I don't need all of dis."

"You hush. Come on you, get comfy."

Mix rolled his optics, before obeying, laying back and getting comfortable. Scrapper hopped into berth, and sat on top of him, holding onto one of his hands and looking it over.

"You were trying to do it in the shower again, weren't you?"

"...no."

Mix always hated the idea of needing someone to 'coddle' him. Its why every heat cycle, he tried to touch himself beforehand, and everytime it failed.

"Is that why you look so grumpy?"

"I ain't grumpy, I'm pissed."

Mix hated his heat cycle, he really did. Not just because he was super horny, that wasn't new. What was new, was the fact that he didn't want to throw Scrapper around or be choked. He wanted Scrapper to make his valve happy. And when Scrapper opened him up, seeing that soaked, puffy valve of his, he realized he had so much work to do. Scrapper pouted, slowly running his servo in between the folds. Mix wanted to talk, but he was reduced to whimpers when Scrapper covered his mouth. The pheromones from a bot in heat could make anyone horny, even the bot in question.

"Shh. It's okay. It's okay. I got you. I always got you. I'm gonna take care of you, all night long. Your poor little valve."

Scrapper peeled his hand away, and leaned in to kiss him. Mix's lips were hungry, sinking into his kiss ravenously. Then Scrapper introduced a finger to his valve. Mix's hands gripped onto his shoulders, already putty in his hands. He kept his lips locked onto his, letting Mix swear against him as he continued to finger and massage his wet walls.

Then he overloaded. It was a quick one, one that made Mix's valve leak all over his hand. He pulled away from the kiss, grinning at Mix's flushed face. The first one was always quick, and not enough.

"You ready, Mixie cakes?"

"You act like this is the first time I've taken ya before."

"Well no, but I like making sure. You're SUPER sensitive right now, I'd hate to overwhelm you. You remember our first heat."

"You stuck your dick in my unlubed aft, rather than my valve. Yeah, I remember, you dumbshit."

Scrapper chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah...sorry about that. It's just why I'm careful now. I don't wanna hurt my big, precious mech again."

"Don't...say it like that."

"Aw, are you embarrassed? Is it because I talk to you in that voice? The one where I make you feel like a big baby? A big ol' baby who gets lots of kissy wissys?"

He held onto his face, decorating it in smooches, and Mix loved it. He squirmed in his arms, and his breath quickened considerably. Mix in heat was aroused by affection, and Scrapper was VERY equipped to handle his little kink. The little kisses to his face, the stupid baby talk, it left Mix shaking, whimpering on the spot.

"Scrappy, c-come on, been dealin' with this slag for like, a week. Stop teasin', PLEASE."

"Aw...you begging is cute, I don't wanna. But fine, I'm not mean, and I love you so so so much."

Scrapper gave his forehead a kiss, before opening his spike panel, and rubbing his spike against him. Mix ACTUALLY jumped up a bit, grip desperate as he held onto his arms. Scrapper chuckled, trying to not push himself in just yet, despite how tempted he was. His valve was hot, damn near steaming, and his spike wanted to make him feel better.

"Scraps-"

"You okay? You jumped on me, was that too fast?"

"No. N-no, I'm. I'm fine. I just. Fucking shit Scrappy just slide it in, PLEASE!"

There was no proper way to slide in, ultimately. Every single way was overstimulating. So long as it didn't hurt, Scrapper had to just settle for going on in. So, he did just that. He pushed himself inside his big, tight valve, and sat there. Mix's pedes thrashed under them, messing up the blankets below them. He didn't move. He was waiting for the sign, waiting for Mix to silently tell him it was okay.

Then Mix dig his servos into his back, and that was all he needed. He started to thrust into him. It wasn’t slow and soft like how he personally enjoyed, but quick, rough, enough to make the room filled with the sounds of metal and metal, and wet slams of a lengthy spike fucking a big valve. Mix was moaning under him, whining and swearing and begging for more and more. In between the soft, hungry kisses, Scrapper was just as putty in Mix's hands and vise versa.

"You're already close, Mixie."

"Shut...up. No I'm fucking not."

He was such a prideful liar. He nudged his face up, and peppered his neck in kisses, letting Mix whine in his arms.

"You don't gotta act all macho on me, bro. I'm here for you. I wanna make all that itch go away. I don't judge you for how quickly you overload. You're my big, manly mech, no matter what. Come on. Overload around me. I'll fill you up. You like it when you get filled. Go ahead. I'll give you as many many as you need after. Promise."

Mix still clung on to his overload, for just a moment, before he raked his servos down his hack, and overloading. Scrapper was forced to stay put as his valve tightened around him, squeezing the overload right out of him. They sat in each other's embrace, steam rolling out of their frames and condensation staining the sheets below them. Scrapper gave Mix a minute, before he pulled out of him, and sat down right next to his poor, exhausted Mixie.

"I hate you."

"You're just embarrassed. Here."

He smacked his face with his towel, helping himself to one as well. Mix grumbled like the sourpuss he was as he wiped himself down.

"Alright, alright. I am. Just...a bit. But you did good, and I mean that."

Scrapper grinned, reaching over to the basket of snacks. Little oil cakes, Mix's favorite, and peanut butter flavored, just how he liked them.

"I try. You deserve it."

"I...thank you. It means a lot to me."

"Oh its no problem, they're getting to be a pretty common flavors nowadays-"

"No. I mean...for this. All of this. You know this sucks, and you make it suck a little less."

Scrapper leaned in to kiss his forehead, before snuggling into him.

"Anythin' for you, bro."

They sat there, stuffing their faces full of shitty snacks, wrappers thrown onto the floor, to be dealt with later.

"Scraps?"

"Yeah?"

"We should totally fuck again."

"Its been five minutes."

"Your point?"

Scrapper rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile.

Things were going to get much more heated between them.

[lfcology]

you’ll float too | fred weasley

summary: another part of the phobia series. FRED LIVES AU! two years after the war, victoire weasley is turning 1 year old! hermione plans the party with muggle surprises including a clown -- something you’ve had a crippling fear of since you were a child. fred is a bit insecure.

pairing: Fem!Reader x Fred.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: None besides the fear of the clowns.

*

When the war was over, and all the rubble was gone, everyone in the Wizarding World did their best to return to any sense of normality they could. For Hermione and Ron that meant finally exploring a relationship together. For Fred and George, it meant opening up the shop again. Bill and Fleur however had arguably the most exciting change of all.

A year after so many lives were lost, little Victoire Weasley was brought into the world. Molly and Arthur made it their goal to spoil the first Weasley grandchild like no other and all of the siblings were enamoured by the tiny angel. Her hair was a gorgeous blonde that matched her mother’s, but her eyes held the Weasley mischief inherited from her father.

Charlie made it a point to move closer after the war and being away for so long and Percy made sure to stop by every Sunday after he made amends (Molly welcomed her boy back with open arms). Fred was one of the only constants in your life over the years so when he asked for you to move into the flat above the shop with him and George, it was a no brainer. Family time was at an all-time high for the Weasleys so with Victoire's first birthday approaching it was going to be a monumental celebration.

Hermione suggested she plan the party so Bill and Fleur could finally have some much-needed rest (for once). As expected, she was an excellent party planner. Everything was mapped out but the most exciting part for her was her plan to incorporate some muggle traditions into the party. With the Weasleys having never experienced muggle treats like blowing out candles, pinãtas, or (your least favourite) clowns. You were over the moon to be part of this special day, however, when she mentioned bringing a clown you knew you couldn't go. Without thinking, you made up a quick apology as to why you couldn't attend –  something about needing to work, covering a shift for someone on short notice.

Being muggle-born meant you were exposed to clowns at a fairly young age through carnivals, parades and parties. You were never overly fond of them, always finding them quite strange but when a friend of yours suggested you read Stephen Kings It, you despised them. They scared you in a way you could barely put into words. From their laughs to their makeup and wigs, it made your skin crawl. As much as you hated them, however, you knew how excited everyone else was to have this muggle experience: Fred and George specifically.

Once Hermione had explained to them that the whole purpose was to tell jokes and make people laugh, the twins were hooked. Much to your dismay, this meant they didn't stop talking about it around the flat and both had quite the pouts when you said you couldn't go (they were almost convincing enough to make you change your mind).

"You've never worked a Saturday until now," Fred said as he crossed his arms. "Can't someone else cover? Why does it have to be you?"

You sighed from your spot in the bath. You'd set up a lovely spa evening for yourself as Fred was supposed to be working late like he did every Friday. However, 10 minutes into your bubble bath and champagne time, he was home and questioning you. You two had been dating for 2 years and friends for even longer so it wasn't hard for him to tell you were hiding something.

"It's a scheduling mistake I made." You shrugged. "It's too late to get someone to cover."

His only reply was a not so intimidating scowl. Which made you sigh and sit up from the tub a bit more (the bubbles hiding all the important stuff). "Everyone else will be there Freddie, it'll be okay." Fred sat on the closed toilet seat and undid his tie from around his neck. He was tired from a busy work week and didn't feel like arguing with you but he wanted answers.

"Georgie and I are closing the shop for it.... 'Mione is getting time off from the Ministry too. Even Harry ended an Auror mission early!" You rubbed your temples and sighed: if there was one thing about Fred Weasley, it was that he was stubborn as hell. What you didn't expect however, was what he said next.

"Listen, George thinks it's something else but you're hiding something and avoiding me and-" He sighed looking away from you as his shoulders sagged. "Are you cheating on me?"

You stared at him with your mouth agape. Did he have so little faith in you?  You needed to make sure he knew the truth ASAP – you never meant your white lie to lead to this. "I never meant to-" You began.

"Who is it?" He asked, jaw clenching.

"Fred-" You said getting up and wrapping yourself in a towel. "I would-" He tried to cut you off again but you'd had enough of him pointing fingers. "I'm scared of clowns!" You all but shouted at him.

He was confused, to say the least.

"What?"

"I'm scared of clowns." You repeated more firmly as you walked closer to him. He was still quite speechless, to be honest, he'd prepared himself for the worst after all. Fred, despite many thinking he was incredibly carefree, overthought absolutely everything. George tried to be a voice of reason and calm him down but once the idea of you hiding something from him entered his mind –  it spiralled.

"Freddie, I would never ever cheat on you. You're the only one I'll ever want." You reassured as you stroked his shoulders. He sat up straight and looked up at you from where you stood between his legs. "I knew you and Georgie were excited about the clown coming so I didn't want to ruin the mood and mention that they scared me." You said softly.

His hands found their way to your hips and he ducked his head in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to assume the worst but you know how I can be sometimes." He chuckled sheepishly. "You wouldn't have ruined the fun love, I'm sure if we mention it to Hermione she can cancel the clown."

"No!" You interjected. "Victoire will probably love it and I don't plan on ruining even more peoples fun..."

"Victoire also loves you," Fred reassured and squeezed your hips gently. "And she may not remember her first birthday but I'm sure she'd rather see you in the photos than a grown man dressed up in a silly costume."

You leaned down and kissed his softly feeling relieved for the first time in a while – he always had a way with words. "Why don't we change into some PJs then talk about why you're scared of them?"

Fred, having so many siblings, was extremely good when it came to being open and communicating one's fears and dreams. The pair of you got into comfier clothes (you donned in one of his old quidditch sweaters for an extra sense of comfort when discussing such a daunting subject). Once you two were settled on the double bed you shared, you reached under and pulled out a worn down box. Inside you found a few knickknacks that never found a place when you moved in with Fred and a tattered copy of It. Despite being the bane of your existence it looked well-loved from being lent out to friends, cried on and thrown around over the years.

"This is It." You said laying the book in your lap. Fred quirked his eyebrow in confusion and took the book as you explained more. "When I was younger, my friend suggested I read this. It's about an evil killer clown named Pennywise."

Fred nodded along and read the description on the back of the book. His brows furrowed in concentration as he looked through the worn-out pages.

"This does seem rather frightening." He said after you looked at him expectantly. "Especially if you read this as a kid!" You nodded and felt relief wash over you when he didn't laugh or make fun. You'd always thought it was a stupid fear to have – something that was meant to bring joy to people ended up terrifying you.

"What really got me was the film." You began. "There's a muggle adaptation and seeing the clown made it so much more real." You shivered as you explained.

"I reckon I could take him." He said puffing his chest out proudly. It wasn't what you expected him to say but when has Fred Weasley ever been one that someone can easily read? Your hand came up to your mouth and you stifled a giggle.

"In what way?" You teased.

"Well, in terms of comedy I've got him beat hands down! Eating kids isn't funny so I reckon he's a terrible clown." He replied not quite understanding that you were egging him on. He was more focused on proving his superiority over Pennywise. "And phyically! I'm 6'4" and even though I don't play Quidditch as regularly anymore I don't doubt I'm still more fit than some old cannibal git."

You couldn't hold back your booming chuckles anymore and leaned back in bed laughing as he stood up. "I'll give him the one-two Weasley special!" He continued as he adjusted his PJs more comfortably. The contagious smile on your face was enough to tell him that his plan was working.

"He'd try to-" He took a bite of the air as if Pennywise was biting at him. "And I'd-" He followed up with a swing of his arm and a kick of his leg.

"My hero..." You said climbing off the bed and hugging him around his middle. He gave you a dimply smile and pressed his lips to yours quickly. "'M the only clown allowed in your life. I promise to fight off all the others."

"You have got the red hair and pale skin after all." You chuckled poking him in the side.

"Don't act like you wouldn't let me bite you." He replied cheekily.

By the time the next day came you felt much more at ease with Fred knowing how you felt. The icing on the cake was that the clown wasn't funny at all. Fred and George stepped in to do their own show after the comedy flop and the finale was Fred challenging the other clown to a brawl before sending a wink your way. Victoire had the time of her life and unanimously everyone agreed that the twins were a much more fitting form of entertainment.

Maybe clowns aren’t so bad after all.

[e-milieeee]

tongue-tied (hearts entwined)—Marichat

Summary: Chat Noir has the annoying habit of sticking his tongue out whenever he's concentrating. Marinette hates that she finds it (and him) ridiculously cute.

Now all she has to do is get through the denial.

Notes: For @emsylcatac! Happy birthday, even if I’m a bit late. I know you’re a Ladynoir stan but... it’s Marichat May+Chat blepping :D 

(The last scene is also inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @australet789! I couldn’t resist sneaking it in lol) 

Or click here to read on AO3! 

tongue-tied (hearts entwined) 

The first time Marinette notices the habit, she brushes it off.

Chat Noir sits on the balcony with her as he attempts to disentangle a ball of yarn from his body. He had claimed that no, he hadn’t in fact been chasing it and it was most definitely not his fault (meaning that it most likely was).

Now, he is wrapped like a Christmas present in neon yellow string. Marinette refuses to help him, so Chat yanks and pulls and stretches the yarn with utmost focus—all with his tongue poking out of his mouth.

Marinette watches him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her presence and only continues in his concentration. His tongue does not return to its rightful place (out of sight, out of mind)—it continues to stick out in the most obnoxiously adorable way ever and Marinette is almost tempted to tell him to shove it back in so she can stop finding him cute.

Before she can do so, Chat Noir lets out a groan. His tongue swipes over his lips and disappears, to Marinette’s relief (and disappointment). “Cataclysm,” he grumbles under his breath.

With that, he cataclysms the yarn to free himself. It falls to black dust all around him like ashes.

“What?” Chat asks when he sees her staring. “It was efficient. Don’t look at me like that.”

Marinette blinks and shakes her head. Had she found him cute just a moment ago? No, she decides. Obnoxious, maybe, but definitely not cute.

(No way.)

***

It happens a couple more times before Marinette realizes that it’s become a problem.

They’re playing video games in her room, an odd little routine they’ve developed. Chat Noir is surprisingly enthusiastic about beating her in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, which, so far, he has not been able to do.

Marinette makes the mistake of sneaking a glance at him in the middle of a match. He’s holding the controller, staring at the screen with the same intensity he often directs at akumas, and, best—no, worst of all, his tongue is sticking out of his mouth again.

She stares at him for a little too long. A little too long turns to really, really too long, because Marinette is only snapped out of her thoughts when Chat Noir throws his hands up with a triumphant whoop. “I won!” he crows at her, and Marinette turns to look at the screen in dismay.

Sure enough, he had finally bested her. The stats flash across the screen—he’d only won by a margin, but he had won nonetheless, breaking her streak of eighteen wins and zero defeats. Now, a red 1 flashes across the screen under her losses, and Marinette groans.

“No fair,” she complains. “I was distracted for a second. You wouldn’t have won if I weren’t.”

“Distracted?” Chat frowns at her. “Distracted by what?”

Your tongue does not suffice as an answer. Not unless she wants to die of embarrassment and shame. As Marinette fumbles for an acceptable reply, Chat sets down his controller and leans forward. “Admit it,” he grins, infuriously smug. “I won fair and square.”

Marinette pushes his nose away from her. Her face is burning. “I’m going to kick your ass harder next time, and you’re going to regret this.”

His grin widens. “I’d like to see you try.”

(He’s not cute. Just annoying.)

***

Chat comes by to bake when Marinette’s parents are out of town one day. He asks her to teach him how to make macarons, but it’s a far too advanced skill for his limited scope. So instead, they come to an agreement to make Chinese pineapple buns. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder, Marinette teaches him to knead dough.

He’s all wide eyes and concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he follows her movements. Marinette forgets about rolling her own dough in favor of watching him. His ears are sticking up straight on top of his head.

He’s so annoyingly cute.

“Okay!” Chat suddenly announces. “Is this good enough—Marinette? Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” she looks at him, looks at the dough, looks at her own unfinished one, and promptly feels her face flush. Then, against all better judgement, Marinette blurts, “Why do you always stick your tongue out like that?”

“Like what?” Chat tilts his head slightly then sticks his tongue straight out. “Likthe thith?”

“No!” Marinette practically yelps, then throws her hands up. “Your dough isn’t ready! Stop slacking!”

He purposefully keeps his tongue out the whole time until Marinette is shaking from laughter.

(Maybe he’s cute. Slightly.)

***

“It’s called blepping,” Chat Noir tells her.

“What?” Marinette looks up from her project. “What’s called what?”

“Apparently cats do it too,” he continues. “Stick their tongue out, that is.”

“Well,” Marinette tells him, nearly tripping over her words. “You’re not actually a cat.”

“I don’t appreciate you telling me what I can be and what I can’t be,” Chat sniffs back. “Besides, it’s not a problem for anyone, so I don’t see why I can’t embrace my cat instincts.”

“Cat instincts,” she parrots under her breath. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait. You’re not bothered by it, right, Mari?”

Marinette snorts. “Who, me? Why would I be bothered?”

Chat shrugs. “See? Then it’s whatever.”

It’s not whatever, but Marinette isn’t going to let him know that. A moment later, when he’s focusing again, she catches another glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue.

Why does he have to be so cute?

(She is in deep, deep trouble.)

***

Chat’s terrible at tying his laces.

It would’ve been funny—from the way his eyebrows are scrunched, ears twitching as he fumbles uselessly with the string—if it weren’t for the fact that all of that was accompanied by the tongue poking out over his top lip. Marinette knows she should stop staring, because then she can stop finding him cute. But she keeps staring, like a whole idiot.

To her mortification, Chat looks up at her and grins when she catches her turning away hurriedly. “Is my face that great to stare at?” he asks.

“What?” Marinette shrieks. “No! I’m looking at you tie your laces. Do you seriously not know how to do them up?”

Chat pouts. “It’s hard to do with claws,” he grumbles, wiggling his fingers. Then he sticks his leg out. “You can do it for me.”

Marinette does it, only to have an excuse to duck her face so he can’t see how red her cheeks are.

It’s one of their monthly outings that Chat Noir claims essential to their friendship. He had launched into an indignant tirade when Marinette suggested they could skate at a rink, insisting that they skate in nature.

Now, at the small pond with hints of snow beginning to fall, Marinette has to admit that he made the right call. The wind nips at her nose with the slightest hints of cold, but not too cold that it’s uncomfortably so. Bundled in her own handcrafted scarf, mittens and toque, the worst of the chill is kept out. Even Chat is wearing an overcoat over his suit.

They’re far from the city; in fact, they’re far from Paris itself. The horse Miraculous is tucked safely away in one of Chat’s pockets (which, ironically, he had borrowed from Ladybug). Here, away from the buzzing and business of the city, her thoughts feel clearer than they have been in a long, long time. The snow, fresh and still falling, offers a muted sort of quiet that leaves her room to think and ponder without interruptions.

(Too bad all her thoughts just linger on Chat.)

((Or maybe that’s a good thing.))

Marinette double knots Chat’s laces. “There,” she announces, then adds, “you big baby.”

“It’s the claws’ fault!” he exclaims again. “Race you to the pond?”

Before Marinette can react, Chat grabs the hem of her toque and pulls it down over her eyes. Then, with a boyish laugh, she hears him run off, crunch, crunch, crunching over fresh snow.

Marinette scrambles to her feet, cursing him under her breath as she snatches her mittens and brushes the wool out of her face. Chat is already halfway to the pond, and with one last desperate attempt to win, she chucks her mittens at him.

They miss by a margin, landing in the snow and inciting more laughter.

“You’re a cheat!” she shrieks when Chat reaches the ice. “I hope you know that!”

“Sore loser!” he yells from the ice, already twirling easily on his skates. “You don’t see me complaining every time you win in Ultimate Mecha Strike!”

Marinette retrieves her mittens from the ground and brushes the snow from them. “You complain every single time,” she grinds out, joining him on the ice. The moment her skates touch the pond, Chat’s already darting away from her with easy grace. He glides, spins, then starts skating backwards so the smug grin is fully displayed.

“Come get me!” Chat Noir calls, sticking his tongue out. His hands are tucked behind his back, and he loops each glide, one foot behind the other with ridiculous ease. Show off.

“If you’re going to keep sticking your tongue out, then I dare you to lick that,” Marinette yells at him, pointing at the lamp pole that stands a couple of paces from them. “Bet you won’t.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, he raises an eyebrow. “What do I get if I do?”

“I’ll bake you a batch of whatever you want.”

“Oh, you’re on. Also, if a batch of cookies is usually twelve cookies, do you think I could get a batch of twelve cakes—”

“I’m taking back the bet,” Marinette mock-threatens.

“Okay, okay! I want those mooncakes we had two weeks ago! Three of them.”

She skates up to Chat as he makes his way to the pole. He tromps off the ice, skates sinking into the fresh snow and leaving deep imprints, before sidling up to the pole.

Frost spirals in small flowery patterns over the metal. Marinette grins when she sees Chat hesitate.

“Well?” she asks. “Chickening out now?”

“Never,” he grins. Then, with one swift movement, he licks the metal pole and pulls back.

Or tries to.

Chat lets out a muffled cry of distress and pain when the tip of his tongue sticks to the metal. Immediately, his hands go to wrap around the pole, pulling himself close enough until the hurt smooths off his face, soon replaced by panic. “Marinethe!” he yelps.

Marinette stares at him, her body frozen in a mixture of shock and amusement. Then the shock gives way to pure delight, and she bursts out laughing.

Chat takes it in stride. “Ha, ha,” he grumbles as she doubles over. He looks so stupid, with his tongue sticking out, gloved hands gripping the pole as his eyebrows scrunch. “Vthery thunny, Marinethe. Can you helpth?”

“You should see yourself,” Marinette manages throughout her giggles. “Oh my God, Chat, you really deserve this for not having better judgement.”

He lets out a long suffering groan. “Geth thith offth!”

“This is what people sounded like in Shakespearan times,” she continues.

Chat side-eyes her, unable to move his head any more than a bare centimeter. “Justh helpth!”

“Ooh, I got a good one. Cat got your tongue?”

He groans. “Is thith whath ith thakes for you tho maketh a joke?”

Marinette snaps a quick picture before taking pity on him. “Wait here,” she tells him. “I packed us hot tea. A little bit will be enough to unstick your tongue, probably.”

She skates back to where their bags lay on the bench and retrieves the thermos. Half a minute late, Marinette is pouring the steaming liquid into the cap, cooling it just enough, before raising it over Chat’s tongue. “Okay,” she tells him. “Get ready.”

For all his superhero experience and near-death scrapes, he actually looks scared of the tea. “Ith won’th burn me?”

“No,” Marinette reassures and raises the cup to her lips to take a sip. “See? Warm, not hot.”

Chat closes his eyes. Very carefully, Marinette pours a small stream steadily onto where Chat’s tongue has stuck to the metal pull. “Try to move away?” she suggests.

He wiggles his shoulders.

“I mean your face,” Marinette tells him drily. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

He scrunches his nose, then very slowly, moves his head back.

The tea does its job, because Chat unsticks himself from the metal easily. His eyes widen as if he can’t believe his luck, then lifts a cautious hand to his mouth and touches the tip of his tongue. “Ow,” he hisses. “It feels like I’ve burned my taste buds off.”

“You froze your taste buds off, but yes.” Marinette screws the lid back onto the thermos. “Lesson learned?”

“You dared me. You wanted this to happen, huh?”

She shrugs. “Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”

A look of playful betrayal sweeps over Chat’s face, and he lunges for her. Marinette, expecting it, scrambles out of the way just in time for him to go barrelling into a pile of snow.

By the time Chat Noir has sat up, snow tucked between his ears and all over his hair like cotton, she is already darting across the ice far, far away from him. Chat shakes the flakes from his head and slips onto the ice in one fluent movement as well.

Marinette grins as he comes skating after her. She’s not quite as confident on her skates without her transformation, but lessons and practice have done it’s good because she’s nearly as good as Chat is on the ice. For a good fifteen seconds she evades his messy attempts to catch her, but her disadvantage without her suit comes creeping up little by little until Chat finally manages to wrap a hand around her wrist.

“Gotcha,” he grins.

Then, with a little shove, Marinette crashes into the bank.

It doesn’t hurt, per say, because it’s a snowdrift he’s sent her into, but the cold is still a shock. For a moment, she stares at Chat, who’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world, before Marinette comes back to her senses and kicks a her leg at the blade of his skates.

Even his enhanced senses don’t help him from tumbling right into the pile of snow next to her.

One look at each other later, they’re both laughing.

(It’s nice; the time together, the easiness and lack of…everything else. It’s nice, his smile. His eyes.)

((And it’s then that Marinette realizes that she’s in deep, deep waters with no sight of the shore.))

***

They sit together on the bench, steaming tea between them, as Marinette shakes the last of the snow from her scarf and toque.

The sun is beginning to set, and the coldness has begun to creep into her bones, leaking through her overcoat. Every exhale sends little ghosts into the air, and even with the warm tea, Marinette is beginning to shiver.

Still, they’d arranged to watch the sunset, which means that she’s going to stay even if it means freezing to death.

“Let’s skate more,” Chat says. “You’ll be less cold if you’re moving.”

“I’d be less cold if you didn’t throw me into a pile of snow,” Marinette says between chattering teeth.

He gives her a sheepish look. “You got payback, at least? Come on.”

She looks at the hand extended to her. For a moment, Marinette hesitates, even if the butterflies in her stomach are doing a whole gymnastics routine and her heart’s thump thump thump must’ve quickened to at least twice as fast.

Then she takes Chat’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet.

This time, when she steps onto the ice, he doesn’t let go. Chat Noir’s hands are comfortably warm, tight around hers, and Marinette lets him lead her around the lake in a simple but graceful glide.

They skate until the sky turns from blue to gold, until the clouds dye orange and the world changes color altogether. It’s only then that Chat stops, lifting his head to the sunset. Marinette follows his gaze.

“It’s still cold,” she tells him pointedly, after a minute.

Before she knows it, Marinette is standing against his back, Chat’s arms draped lazily over her shoulders and his chin resting on top of her head. She can’t see him from where she’s standing, but she wonders if he can see her; if he can hear how her heart has jumped right to her throat and notice how the redness in her cheeks can’t be fully credited to the cold.

“Better?” he asks.

Marinette turns back to the sky, where now a brushstroke of red smears across the horizon. “Only slightly,” she replies as nonchalantly as possible.

His body shakes in a silent laugh. And so they stand on the ice, against the cold, until it all melts away to warmth.

(And Marinette thinks that even if she’s in deep waters, this sort of drowning is the best way to go.)

Notes: Fics masterlist here!

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #74/188

#74: Well. Yell, scream, say something, anything / #188: Say it.

Rated M.

Atlantic City is a calamitous disaster. At least that’s how it starts.

Not because of their case - of course it’s awful, as most of them are. There’s nothing not awful about a duo of killers targeting vacationers during the height of the summer tourist season. Everyone is on edge, it’s hot and cramped, and there isn’t much time before they’ll almost certainly find two more dead bodies in the early morning hours outside one of the many casinos dotting the shoreline. But they’re used to that; it’s practically their daily vernacular at this point, a bit of normalcy in the current chaos between them. The case is the least of Aaron’s concerns, or Emily’s for that matter.

It’s everything but the case this time.

Things go downhill before they even cross the New Jersey state lane. A last minute hydraulic fuel leak on the jet renders air travel a non option. Instead, they get stuck in the same SUV with Reid for company in the backseat for the four hour drive. Aaron almost feels sorry for him, but he’s completely oblivious to the brewing storm inside the confines of the car for the entire first leg of the trip. Reid chatters endlessly, yet neither of them seem to hear a word he’s saying. By the time they hit the Atlantic City Expressway, Emily is all but ready to leap out the window. Hardly any words are exchanged between the two of them at all; they aren’t needed. It’s in her body language and his reticence, the firm clench of his hand on the steering wheel and her weary head resting on a fist, angled as far away from him as possible.

“This is a mess,” Aaron mutters with more than an hour left to go, and he isn’t talking about the thickening traffic. He’s talking about them, and the ending to what never really had as much as a beginning in the first place.

Things spun out of control towards the end. There was a breakup, if it could be considered as much. What they had was never labeled or defined, it just was. It was built on a mistake, nurtured through secrecy and quiet whispers in the dark. It then spiraled into something else entirely, creating an impasse between them during the day that bled into endless nights spent wrapped around one another in beds across the country for almost four full months.

“We can’t do this,” Emily finally said in a darkened hotel room in Seattle exactly 12 days prior to this one. He’d been expecting it, recognized the signs of her pulling away a little more with every kiss he left on her smooth skin, every shudder of her body beneath his and every breathy pant in his ear. There’s nothing tangible left of them, just broken fragments and heavy silence, and every reason why they shouldn’t have ever started this in the first place plays out right before their eyes. “There’s only one way for this to end, you know.”  

There was nothing he could say to talk her out of it as she threw the covers aside, reaching for her clothes on the floor. Aaron offered an “I’m sorry” for good measure yet it didn’t feel like enough, probably because it wasn’t at all. But it’s over, she reminded him as she closed the door firmly, without looking back.

Or so they think.

A mishap at the hotel in Atlantic City leaves the team two rooms short, meaning the team will have to double up for the next few days. JJ is seven months pregnant, which automatically gives her the comfort of her own space, and it goes without saying Dave will get his own too. Reid shuffles his feet and makes eye contact with Morgan, looking slightly relieved when he nods in agreement. That leaves Aaron to concede and Emily to shrug her shoulders indifferently, even if her face is anything but that. The caretaker of the slightly run down hotel  only slightly leers in Emily’s direction as he passes over the two room keys, and Aaron can’t help but step between her and the counter and swipe them both out of the man’s hand with a curt “thanks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emily says low enough for only Aaron to hear, snatching the key out of his hand and taking off in the direction of their room. “It’s just a damn key.”

“Did you see the way he stared at you?” Aaron questions with a hint of impatience in his tone as he goes to follow her, but she’s not listening.

“202 is the other way, you know.” The man chuckles with a jab of his finger, as if he’s seen this exact scenario play out many times before - two people disappearing behind a closed door, a disaster waiting to happen. “You two have yourselves a nice stay.” He doesn’t seem to care that just a few moments ago, Aaron’s FBI badge was in his face. He looks almost amused, which only adds to the visible tension between them both.

With an exasperated sigh, Emily turns on her heel and spins in the opposite direction toward their room. “I can’t believe this,” she mutters, staring at the tiny gold numbers on every door until she finds the one they need. Aaron doesn’t miss the way she squares her shoulders, the quick intake of breath as she twists the key in the knob.

The door squeaks on its hinges when she pushes it open; the room smells slightly of mold, but even that isn’t the worst part. The proverbial icing on the cake is when she stops dead in her tracks with him right behind her, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Fuck.

There’s only one bed. It sits in the middle of the damn room, practically mocking them both. Aaron doesn’t miss the subtle glance Emily throws in his direction, searching for his reaction just as he is studying hers. “I’ll take the couch,” he says immediately, keeping his face neutral, setting his bag down on the rickety piece of furniture that has clearly seen better days. “You can take the bed.”

“That hardly qualifies as a couch,” Emily tells him sharply. “That’s a chair, Aaron.”  

She’s right, he thinks in annoyance. It wouldn’t even fit half of him, and staring at it makes his back hurt in anticipation. But sleeping next to her for however many nights they’re here isn’t exactly an option, either.  “I don’t want to make you -”

“Let’s just agree,” Emily says through firmly clenched teeth, making it a done deal. “To be adults about this. We can share a room for a few days without it being an issue. That includes the bed.”

…

They should have known better, but it’s too late for that.

As expected, the rest of the day is exhausting. It only ends because of the promise to look at things with fresh eyes in the morning at the urging of the equally weary Atlantic City police. By the time they make it back to the shabby room, they’re both tired, hot, and cranky, hardly uttering a word after bidding goodnight to everyone else.

“You shower first,” Aaron says as he holds the door open for her, giving her enough space to pass him. “I have to check in on Jack.” He knows her routine once they get back from a case - a shower is always a necessity, and in the better days, they’d always taken turns on first dibs. Or just showered together, which was always his preference.

If she thanks him he doesn’t hear it, and the bathroom door closes behind her, the lock added for good measure. But twenty minutes later - how long does she need in there - he has to avert his eyes when Emily steps out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, the scent of shampoo lingering in her wake. She’s wrapped in one of the hotel issued towels, which is a generous description for the scrap of fabric that barely covers her, awkwardly crossing the room to dig through her suitcase.

Look away, Aaron wills himself, struggling to get comfortable on the tiny couch. It’s a lost cause, and will undoubtedly be a very long night.

There’s a mishap with the towel, a soft curse under her breath as she scrambles before it hits the floor, and an inopportune moment when their eyes meet, succumbing to what they silently agreed would never happen again. It’s how Emily finds herself pinned under his weight, her back pressed against the mattress as Aaron lowers to his knees and dips his head between her legs. Any protest that falls from her lips is short lived, her hands in his hair, her legs curling over his shoulders as he slowly begins to take her apart. Emily arches into him, unable to stifle the moans that are now a constant stream of affirmation, and Aaron doesn’t bother with reminding her the walls are thin. He doesn’t care, and something tells him in the moment he coaxes her climax out of her, neither does she.

“I missed you,” he says when he slides into her to completion a few moments later, giving her a moment to adjust to him before starting to move. He kisses the space between her breasts and Emily all but ignores him, pushing him over onto his back to straddle his hips with a smirk.

The pace she sets is quick, the rhythm fast and rough, and it’s over almost embarrassingly fast. He’s gotten her down against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she whimpers into his mouth. Her body is shaking in the aftermath as he thrusts hard once more, holding her against him. For a few quiet moments, the only sound is that of their breathing, a heaviness falling over them both at the realization of what’s just happened. And yet, she stays on his chest, her limbs not quite ready to work, in the comfort of his embrace for a few moments longer.

Afterward, Emily puts as much space as she can between them, which isn’t much given the size of the bed. “If this was your way of not sleeping on the couch,” she says sleepily, her voice muffled by the pillow, “I guess you won.”

...

The next morning, as the sun rises over the shore, Aaron finds her on the balcony, wearing nothing but his undershirt that was abandoned on the floor, the sound of the ocean in the distance. He mumbles something about getting coffee, the first thing that comes to his mind. He knows she (and he) could use some, judging by the minimal amount of sleep they got. Emily doesn’t say a word, just pushes him against the sliding door and drops to her knees. His head falls back against the glass, his hand tightening in her hair as she brings him into her mouth, letting him hit the back of her throat. In between his eyes closing, his hips stuttering against her face, Aaron watches the brilliant mix of orange, yellow, and red fade into daylight, and wonders just how things got to be such a fucking mess in the first place.

They’re two for zero now, and as the day dawns hot and there’s another set of bodies found, it’s abundantly clear no one is leaving Atlantic City anytime soon. And much later that night, they hardly make it to that damn bed before the score becomes three.

…

Aaron wakes up a few hours later from a restless, uncomfortable sleep. The room is stuffy, the pillow underneath his head is flat, the hum of the air conditioner a constant nag even if it does little to cool the room down. Before he opens his eyes, he knows she’s gone. The space beside him is cold - Emily is nowhere to be found, and there’s thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. He dresses in the dark, grabbing his keys, doesn’t bother with an umbrella, and makes the short trek to the boardwalk.

It’s where he would go, and it’s where he finds her, sitting on a bench, her arms folded across her chest, long legs crossed at the knees. She’s ripping at her fingernails, a sure sign something is wrong, and wearing a blank expression that doesn’t change when she slowly turns her head to see him coming right towards her. “I had a feeling you would find me.”

Aaron shrugs, but doesn’t miss the way she flinches when he sits beside her. “Not many places to look. It’s 1 AM, you know.”  

She sniffs with disinterest, continuing to pick at her fingernails.“Why do we keep screwing up?” Emily says after a long pause, and what he sees is like a swift kick to the chest. She looks disappointed with herself, disgusted even. All because of him. “Why can’t I just … quit you?”

“Why do you keep coming back?” He challenges her right back. “If all you’re going to do is walk away again?”

Emily turns her head to stare at him with widened eyes. “We both know the answer to that, Aaron. We both know this was never going to work.”

“No, you decided that. All on your own.” He remembers the night in Seattle as if it were yesterday - the night she left. The sting of her words is still fresh in his mind. “But maybe you’ve already compartmentalized it,” he adds with a bite in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Emily recoils at his words, recrossing her arms over her chest. She rises to her feet, pacing  around the bench.  “What do you want from me, Aaron? What were you expecting when we drunkenly decided to sleep together once? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“You. I want you. And not just this fuck then forget bullshit,” he says over the growing wind and thunder, the skies threatening to open. In the distance, the ocean churns, the tides crashing against the shore as his anger builds. “I want to be with you,” Aaron adds with a waver in his voice. “Regardless of how this started.”

Emily blinks with confusion and bites her lip, as if holding back tears. She shivers, rubbing her arms, her lip starting to tremble. They can’t. Her silence is an answer in and of itself, one he refused to accept.

“Well?” He demands, the anger rising in his voice, and Emily curses his resolve.

“Well what?”

“Well. Yell, scream, say something, anything,” he snaps, searching her face for a sign of anything besides the emptiness painted across her features. “Don’t just say nothing.”

But Emily indeed says nothing, just regards him with wide, darkened eyes that tell him what he needs to know. In the dark, with only the lights of the boardwalk to cast eerie shadows on her face, she looks almost ethereal, a haunting comparison to the fear he sees. That’s what it is, he thinks. Fear. Fear of what could be, fear of what might never be.

“Say it,” he pleads. “Please, Emily.” The rain starts to fall, coming down relentlessly and soaking them both to the skin almost instantly. “

“Aaron,” she whispers, barely audible over the thunder and now the rain. “It would never work.” She holds up her hands in defeat. “We can’t.”

“What are you so afraid of?” He grabs her by the shoulders, just tightly enough that she can’t duck out of his grasp. Emily squirms uncomfortably but he holds her fast, unwilling to let her go, for if he does, she may never come back. “Why are you so damn afraid of this actually working? Do you have any damn faith?”

She opens her mouth but snaps it shut, her chin trembling with effort. He expects her to slap him, to jerk away and disappear into the night. He’s waiting for her to leave like she did three weeks ago. But she doesn’t. What she does instead surprises the hell out of him. Emily kisses him, slanting her mouth against his in the pouring rain, pressing her rain-soaked body right into his. It takes a full ten seconds before he kisses her back.

It’s a compromise, an agreement to not make a decision one way or the other, at least for the time being. Even so, Aaron envelopes her in his arms, a hand cupped around the back of her head and the other anchored across her shoulders. He kisses her back with an urgency he can only attribute to the fact that he’s in love with her, something he’s known for way too long.

He doesn’t have to tell her that, because somewhere amongst all the doubt, she already knows.

An hour later, after a hot shower (taken together) the score becomes four. And a few hours after that, as the sun rises yet again, nearly blinding them in a cramped Atlantic City hotel room, Emily tentatively agrees to try.

It’s good enough for him.

[smallblip]

Deep sea baby

Levihan | Rated for mild swearing and mild deed-doing | This is a secret santa gift for @hanji-zoe103  💕

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429827

Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea, and Levi loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous. Levi knows little of poetics, but Hanji promises to find him in the next life and the ones after.

And sure as the waves crashing into shore, she does.

 Hanji is the sea. Uncompromising, untamable, painfully beautiful. Levi thinks she’s poetry in motion, the way she dances, barefoot across sandy beaches, the way she walks down towards the place where the sea meets land, unafraid amidst white waters. 

  He sits, like the shores, and watches her. Watches her bend towards the ground, hands dipping beneath foam, searching for shells. She holds them up against the sun to inspect them when she finds them. Treasure, she calls them. 

  When she’s waist deep in salt water she turns back to look at him. 

  “Come on Levi! The water is warm!” 

  ≋

  Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea.

  And Levi is the most beautiful boy to have walked the earth, so beautiful he puts the gods to shame. And Hanji fears whatever love they have will be short-lived, because he loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous. 

  It’s a long way from heaven, but Hanji comes to see him every day. She sits with him in a clearing in the forest while he works and he’s sceptical at first. Nothing good comes from associating with the old gods. But the hem of her dress is caked in mud, there’s earth under her nails, and she swears exactly like a sailor would. He teaches her to climb trees and she names all the sheep in his flock. 

  “Maybe it would be nice to stay here forever...” she says to him one day, and Levi understands the gravity of what she’s suggesting. The heavens would not allow for it. They would cut her up piece by piece and she would be returned to the sea. 

  But there’s a conviction in Hanji’s eyes, a severity that justifies the cult of mortals at her feet. The same determination that Hanji has when she’s pulling splinters from her fingers, when she picks wildflowers for Levi, when she holds him against her chest and challenges the gods. She balls her fists and curses the greys of the skies, yet she dances in the rain, giggling, pulling Levi to join her. He surprises himself when he relents.

  So Levi tells her she has his heart. 

  Each night he holds her close, and each night she falls into a deep slumber and she dreams of running barefoot through a field of white roses to reach him. She pierces her foot on a thorn and the field is stained red. A field of red roses. Each one blooming and dying at Levi’s feet. 

  ≋

  In a kinder life, they are childhood friends in a sleepy seaside town. Levi has a popsicle in his mouth, the last of it melting on his tongue. Hanji has long finished hers, and her fingers are sticky from the syrup. But it doesn’t matter because Levi is burying her in the sand so she can keep her filth to herself. He contemplates covering her mouth with sand too, but they’re going to turn thirteen soon and he’s tired of pretending that her talking annoys him. 

  “When I’m older I’m going to sail all over the world!” Hanji grins. Levi thinks it’s funny that now she’s just a talking head in the sand.

  But his heart sinks a little. He doesn’t know if his future is on a vessel bound to nowhere. But they’re still young and their plans have little structure and bearing, so for now Levi pretends he’s going to be there with her, sailing across the ocean.

  “Did you know it’s a myth that lobsters mate for life?” Hanji says, absentminded, part of her trying to distract from the heat, and another part of her already thinking about that ice cream they have waiting for them in her freezer. “Sad huh... Who knew you can’t trust everything on TV...” she laughs. 

  “Seahorses mate for life...” Levi says. He tries to stay nonchalant, but he’s a little embarrassed he spends his free time googling facts he thinks Hanji would enjoy.

  And Hanji knows. Of course she does. She has known him her whole life. In this life and the next he is her Levi. Her Levi with an endless capacity for kindness. She smiles. 

  “Seahorses huh...”

  ≋

  They meet on a ship sailing through uncharted waters. Levi joins the Royal Navy when it feels like he’s exhausted all other options. There's a hunger for power that guides their ship to foreign lands.

  It’s the middle of the night when hears shouting. He jolts awake and already the rest of the crew are reaching for their weapons. There’s no time to change out of their night clothes. The ship spirals into a frenzy. He spots the warning of black sails and white crossbones from afar. The ship is gaining on them. It’s clear they have to stand their ground and fight. 

  The pirates board their ship, and there’s a wild clash of knives and swords and the smell of blood in the air mixing with the metallic taste of gold and bronze and silvers. Levi lunges but his sword is halted midair by a cutlass. 

  “Not so fast Officer...” the pirate says. Past the eyepatch and greasy hair he sees her- he feels her. There’s a white rush by his ears calling for him to come home. 

  I found you, she whispers in his ear as she brings him aboard her ship. 

  The sea promises gold and riches beyond imagination, and Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth. 

  ≋

  Levi works in his uncle's bakery a small town in the middle of godforsaken nowhere. It's a family business, and they've been getting good reviews from travel blogs online looking for spots off the beaten path. 

  Levi is on a date to the aquarium and Kenny yells a “don't come back tonight if you know what's good for you!” after him. There are still customers in the bakery and everyone is staring at him. The teenagers in the corner snigger. 

  His date doesn't show, but he's not surprised really. The first date had gone by in a way that could be considered painless. But beyond nice pleasantries, there’s nothing much to look forward to. So Levi completely understands. Then again she could’ve at least had the courtesy to drop him a text. In any case, Kenny will be disappointed. He enters the aquarium anyway. Might as well. He had already purchased the tickets, and he hasn’t been since he was a child in elementary school. He watches the sharks swim laps behind the thick glass. He wonders if they feel unfulfilled, living in a tank, watching as people from all around take family trips to visit the aquarium. 

  “That one’s Bean!” Levi switches his attention from a particularly small shark to the person beside him. 

  “What?” He replies.

  “That one!” She points to the shark making its way past them, “she’s Bean. We rescued her from a fishing net.” 

  Levi watches her grin with suspicion. Maybe he should introduce himself. He's not usually one to introduce himself to strangers with wild hair and gleaming eyes behind thick glasses, but there's a first for everything, and before he knows it, he's telling her his name.

  "Date stood you up?" she says, and Levi glares at her. "Oh... Wait... That really happened?" she apologises, and the stranger with the wild hair and gleaming eyes becomes Hanji. There’s something about the lights in the aquarium, the blues and violets that reflect off the auburn in her eyes in a way that’s almost ethereal. 

  The things that conspire after are tricks of the light then, surely. Hanji invites him back to her apartment, and they talk and they polish off a six pack of beers and a few bottles of cheap wine between the two of them. "This is fun! I haven't gotten shipfaced in a while!" Hanji chuckles. 

  “No.” Levi says, he has little tolerance for bad nautical puns. But it only encourages Hanji to tell him more. There's a mix of "where ya fin all my life" and "you're whaley cute", and finally, when she's absolutely smashed, a "nice boat, wanna fuck?" 

  At that, the dams break and Levi laughs. 

  Hanji wakes up the next morning, killer headache, she shoots up and the headache splits her skull open. Too quick. 

  “Ouch...” she says, eyes blinking through sleep and haze. She grabs at the bottle of water by her bedside and shuffles through her drawer for ibuprofen. 

  “You idiot...” 

  Hanji snaps her head up, looking for the owner of the voice and there Levi is, leaning against her door, hands folded across his chest. Hanji’s jaw slackens. 

  “In case you were wondering, no, nothing happened...” 

  “But... but you’re here... in... in my room...” 

  “Tch...” Levi rolls his eyes, “you passed out and I stayed just in case you choked on your own vomit and died in the middle of the night...” 

  Oh...

  “Wait did I?” 

  Levi raises a brow, she’s still not all there. “Still alive aren’t you?” 

  Hanji shrugs. This could be hell for all she knows. “Fast acting pain relief” proving to be the biggest scam of the century. 

  "What a fucking shipwreck of a person..." Levi says and it takes Hanji a minute before she's doubled over in laughter, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. 

  Levi half expects to never see her ever again, but there she is the day after, as promised, finger pressed to the glass, ordering herself a Pain au Chocolat, an Americano, and his number on a piece of napkin. He sighs, but he's writing it down for her anyway.

  "You really followed me home that night huh... Didn't it cross your mind that I could be a serial killer?" She says, examining his handiwork. 

  Levi scoffs, "you invited a complete stranger you picked up at the aquarium into your house, and then proceeded to get very wasted... Didn't it cross your mind that I could have been the serial killer?"

  Hanji laughs, and it startles her when it echoes throughout the bakery, "touché..." she says, "guess I am a shipwreck of a person..." she winks.

  The corners of Levi's lips betray a smile as he watches her take a seat by the window to read. 

  "That's not Petra..." Kenny comments. 

  "Who said I went home with Petra?" Levi answers.

  Kenny's face pulls into a smirk and he lets loose a deep rumble of laughter, “Levi you absolute dog!”

  ≋

  The sea is a passage. To a new life that Hanji can only pray will be fulfilling. She is the princess of a port kingdom- a people favoured by the sun and raised by the sea. 

  Her ships carry her to a distant land of frigid waters and snowfall, where her betrothed is king. When she sets foot on land, she's greeted by faces paler than hers and a mannerism befitting the heartiness of Northern kingdoms. There are skins being made into pelt, fish hanging out to dry, wines made from preserved fruit. Already, Hanji misses the white sandy beaches and the heat of the midday sun, but she's to be queen now, and she remembers this when she walks past the heavy doors into the throne room. She comes bearing gifts of glass beads, fine porcelain, and dried fruit and nuts- a reminder of Summer. 

  She takes her place beside her husband, and she smiles at the people who have come to see her- the princess from the other side of the sea. They are her people now. 

  And that's when she sees him.

  His expression doesn't change even when he kneels in front of her and kisses the back of her hand. He vows to protect her. 

  She calls for him later, and he tells her to call him Levi- he has never been too keen on formalities. Besides, Sir Levi doesn’t suit him quite as much. And she's Hanji, just Hanji. 

  It's Winter when they take a ride through the forest. She's not used to the heavy furs and wools and Levi has to remind her that the sun doesn't shine the same here. But Hanji knows. Her golden skin now mellowing. She hikes her dress above her knees and toes through the snow. The ground caves beneath her feet like powdered sugar, and Hanji thinks maybe there's beauty in her new home. She thinks maybe there's warmth to be found, as Levi catches her before she slips. 

  He shows her the lake, now frozen over, and they slide over thick ice like children. She pulls him down with her when she falls and they laugh. There's something in his eyes that Hanji recognises as fear. She feels it in the beat of her own heart, warning her against falling. But they’ve been treading on thin ice around one another, and falling seems inevitable.

  So Levi presses back against her and kisses her. Hanji feels a warmth coursing through her- the same fire she's promised in the lullabies her mother used to sing her. 

  "We should come in Spring. The lake is beautiful then..." Levi says as they make their way back to the castle. And Hanji promises to show him her home. The crystal waters; gentle waters. She knows it's a promise that may never be fulfilled, but nevertheless, this is a moment in time, and promises offer a glimpse into possibility. 

  Come Spring, they make love by the lake, under the cover of the sea of trees. Everything is beautiful in the Spring. 

  ≋

  In another life, the sea promises protection. 

  There’s only one rule out at sea near the white rocks-

  Beware the Siren’s song.

  Levi lives in a little house by the sea. Everyday he sails out near the white rocks to catch fish. 

  Hanji circles his boat. Her iridescent tail catching the light and reflecting deep purples and green. She sings her best song for him- the beautiful fisherman with the grey eyes. 

  "Don’t swim into the nets," he scolds and Hanji is taken aback. She thinks about her beautiful fisherman when he sails for home. And there's a familiar tugging that she feels in her gut. But the weather has taken a turn for the worse and she doesn’t see him near the white rocks. Not the next day nor the days after. She seeks the council of the waters and the waves carry her to shore. 

  There’s a storm raging. The windows are rattling against their frames. Lightning illuminates the skeletons of his house and there’s a persistent knocking that weaves in and out of the thunder. Levi takes the screaming kettle off the hobs. 

  He opens the door to her. She’s standing in the rain, hands wrapping around herself to shield from the cold. Levi’s gaze skims from the tip of her nose down to her bare chest, down to her long legs. He swallows thickly. She’s leaning against the frame of the door, shifting her weight from one unstable leg to another. Like a fawn learning to walk. He frowns but nevertheless, he leaves the door ajar for her to enter.

  “You’re gonna get the floors all wet...” he mutters. Rainwater he can manage. But seawater makes the floorboards a little sticky, and that annoys him deeply.

  “I told you I’ll come for you.” She says. 

  Levi shoves a towel in her face, “Dry yourself.” He pauses for a moment, taking in the shock on her face. “Please.” 

  Surprisingly, she does as she’s told, and when she’s done, she hands the towel back to him. 

  Levi finds her dry clothes, and she pinches and pulls at them, inspecting after she puts them on. 

  “I’m here to eat your heart lover boy.” 

  He considers her. It’s colder this time of year and the sea is relentless. But her skin is gold like honey, sun-kissed in a way that reminds Levi of summers and homemade jam and the grass beneath his feet. 

  “Levi.” He replies.

  Levi. she says, smile spreading across her face like butter on warm toast. 

  He shares his stew with her and she tells him her name is Hanji when her hands are warming by the fire. She looks at Levi, gaze washing over him like a wave. And there’s familiarity in the way his eyes soften when he looks at her. He looks at her like he's trying to call forth a string of memories tying her to him; him to her. But all he has is an affection for her that ripples through his consciousness. It's accompanied by the sounds of laughter- her laughter- and the pale shimmer of moonlight.  

  So she returns to him the next day, and the day after, and the days after that. 

  Hanji brings him little pieces of treasure. A conch shell, a dead sand dollar, bits of sea glass. Her legs grow stronger each time. She dances around his house. She pulls him flush against her chest and rests her chin atop his head and sways to a tune she’s humming. 

  Beware the Siren’s song, they say. 

  But they’re far from the white rocks and she’s laughing exactly like a lover would. The floorboards are creaking under their toes.

  He looks for her when he’s out at sea, and listens as she tells him stories of the depths, about the men who hurt her, about dying at sea, and about the promise of protection and rebirth.  

  When she wakes again, there's water in her lungs and she learns to breathe. To call the sea her home. 

  But maybe it's not by accident that she falls asleep in his arms one night, cocooned in white sheets that remind her of sea foam. 

  She kisses his nose in the morning and he blinks an eye open to look at her. “I’m gonna eat your heart lover boy...” Hanji teases, hair tickling his skin, the sight of him crossing the boundary between sleep and daybreak takes her breath away. 

  Levi smiles, pulling her closer, "stop moving so much..." he groans. It’s still early, they can still afford a little shut eye. He cradles her in his arms- a promise of protection. “You already have my heart,” comes his reply, in a moment of tenderness, and Hanji doesn't return to the waters. 

  ≋

  In others, the sea forces distance between them. 

  They don't meet in this life.

  But sure as waves reaching towards the shore, they meet in the one after.

  ≋

  They're in their second year of college but nothing really changes. 

  Except when it does, it happens so fast that Levi doesn't have time to breathe. The next time he takes a breath he's lying beside Hanji. They’re both sated and sleepy and Levi stills his breathing, coming down from his high. And Hanji thinks this life is nice. It's effortless in a way that reminds her that they are meant to be.

  The Marine Biologists have gathered for a nights out- a pub crawl to be specific. The entire course is decked in ridiculous outfits. There’s a merman somewhere, and a manatee, there’s even a sea snake (moray eel, Hanji clarifies). And Hanji is dressed as a shark. 

  Levi is there because he gets dragged along to everything that Hanji is a part of and he gets asked one too many times what his outfit is supposed to be. Because he’s in his jeans and a black top and he just looks- normal? 

  “He’s my next meal!” Hanji says and Levi pulls a face, he chokes out a, “shitty four eyes...” and he’s blushing a little more than he should because does she even hear herself?

  Halfway through the night Levi wonders why he’s so tipsy. This is really unlike him. He remembers meeting Hanji’s friend Moblit, whose Aquaman sends Hanji over the edge with laughter. He remembers hearing a round of “oh hey Levi!” (They all know who he is, after all, he’s often hanging around Hanji). Then the beer bong challenge. Oh right. The beer bong challenge... that’s why. Hanji won, at least he remembers that. 

  And he also remembers dancing with Hanji at the back of one of the pubs. “This is a good song...” he murmurs in her ear and she visibly shivers. But everything is spinning and the music is delicious, touching is also delicious, and they do just that. And at some point Levi must have just gone for it, because Hanji’s mouth is hot and inviting and Levi thinks he’s delirious so he surrenders to the feeling. 

  They’re back in Hanji’s room, only because it’s only a flight of stairs up and Levi is unzipping her ridiculous costume that surprising does little to ease his raging hard on. And Hanji, god forbid, isn’t wearing anything underneath. 

  His top comes off once they make it past the main door to her flat. Levi doesn’t even notice the mess in Hanji’s room as they navigate the narrow space and soon they're on the bed, hands moving in what is best described as a frenzy. 

  It feels so good and Levi finally admits to himself that he has been thinking about this for a while. And he’s almost relieved when Hanji kisses him and lets her want slide down his throat. 

  Levi wonders if they can still be considered friends. Last he’s checked friends don’t scream each other’s names the way Hanji is saying his name right now as she bites down on his shoulder. Plus, the whole best friends to lovers trope is just one big cliché. And yet, Levi doesn’t hate it. He has to admit it’s actually really nice. 

  The next morning Hanji finds Levi rummaging through her sink cupboard. 

  “My extra toothbrushes are the drawer.” She gestures towards the bottom drawer with her toe. They brush their teeth and they're sitting on the bed again, it's the only place for two to sit, really. 

  “So... Was it good for you?” Hanji says, a little amused with how the entire situation unfolded.  

 Levi clears his throat, face going red. “Would’ve been better if you weren’t wearing that stupid outfit...” He wants to say he's never felt this way with anyone before, but he doesn't. 

  “But hammerheads are cool!” Hanji protests and she’s pouting. Levi wonders if now’s a good time to kiss that stupid look off her face or if that’s too much.

  “Fucking one isn’t...” Levi mutters. Hanji throws her head back and laughs. 

  “So... What do we do now?” Levi asks. And Hanji shrugs saying a "admit we love each other and carry on with our lives?" like it had been obvious. 

  "Sounds good..." he says, smiling, and he thinks they deserve this effortlessness. 

 ≋

  Hanji comes back to him like ship returning to port. She thinks about meeting him when he's six and building sandcastles on the beach. He had ignored her attempt at conversation and Hanji had been a little annoyed.

  "You don't remember me do you?" She huffed, pout on her face, arms crossed. 

  Levi was confused, that definitely caught his attention, "do we know each other?" he asked. 

  "No," Hanji confessed, "no but... I know I'm supposed to meet you." She said with all the confidence a five year old can muster. Levi bickered with her. How can a five year old be so smug? He was a whole year older and he was by no means as confident. He didn't even know whether to pick sushi or pizza for lunch. 

  And she thinks about the night before she left. 

  "I like you Levi..." she had said. She willed herself not to cry, so there's a moment in which she's just chuckling humourlessly to herself. And Levi's scowls at her. "Inconvenient huh..." she added. She had to cross the ocean the next day on a voyage bound somewhere far away and this makes it that much harder.  

  Fucking inconvenient indeed...

  They don't make promises, but Hanji wishes they had. She wishes they would have at least addressed her little confession, because it's been eight years. Eight years of it gnawing at her brain and now it's just a little awkward. 

  Hanji takes a deep breath as she disembarks at port, her feet a little unsteady on dry land- like a fawn learning to walk again. But she sees him. And the knot in her chest unravels. Eight years. It's been too long. She takes tentative steps towards him, but soon she's running and enveloping him in a sweaty embrace. 

  He's whispering something, muffled because he's pressed into Hanji's clavicle-

  “Did you know seahorses mate for life?” 

  She smiles. Sure as the sun, he’s in her arms again. 

  Seahorses huh...

  ≋

  Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite. 

  The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together. 

  The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks. 

  One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away. 

  She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present. 

  "Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea. 

  He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

  The moonlight caresses her skin and this scene- this moment- is opulent. Levi unties the patch over her eye and lets the waters carry it away. She chuckles. "I'm never going to get that back am I?" she says, holding his hand and guiding him to shallower waters. 

  And Levi knows there's some poetry to the way she's kissing him. She tastes like saltwater and Summer all at once, and Levi thinks that he has never felt this way with anyone else. Will never feel this way about anyone else. Instead he glowers at her-

  “Hanji don’t you dare fucking die... I’ll never forgive you if you do... I swear I’ll-“ 

  Before Levi can continue, Hanji is laughing, sputtering as her head bobs below the surface of the water. 

  “Even if I do, you don’t have to say goodbye. I promise I’ll look for you in the next life... And the ones after...” She says, brushing the pad of her finger against his nose. The heavens and the sea bear witness. And Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth. 

  Treasure, he calls her, when the sound of white water crashing provide refuge for words that have little place in this life. Levi knows little of the words lovers say to each other, and even less of poetics, yet here he is with Hanji, sitting on the shores now, and watching salt crystal in her hair. He falls asleep that night to the sound of her breathing. And amidst dreams of roses and white foam,

  Levi is home. 

[junewild]

may we have your cupcake recipe? <3

HELL YEAH, thank u anon. i’ll give you vanilla, citrus, spice, and chocolate cupcakes & if you want anything else let me know! this is going to be stream-of-consciousness rather than linear recipe, because unfortunately that is how i bake. if you want a linear recipe, let me know which particular set of pieces you want and i can write it up for you. i’ll even guesstimate times and such.

BEFORE YOU READ FURTHER: this is very long. if you are not into cupcakes, bookmark this for later when you suddenly decide to make cupcakes and keep scrolling. now with new added read more for additional readability <3

making cupcakes takes me about two hours if i’m doing two batches or an hour and a half if i’m doing one. it might take you a little longer the first time because you don’t quite know what order to do things in or how long everything takes. i like to start my fillings first because they take longer to be ready, then turn on my oven, then mix my batter, then make the frosting while cupcakes are baking.

SUPPLIES

you will need: a cupcake tin, cupcake wrappers, at least one large mixing bowl (2 is recommended to avoid a lot of washing dishes between steps), a hand mixer or a lot of elbow grease, spatula, whisk, small bowl, a small grater or microplaner, a piping tip + bag (or just a plastic bag with a hole cut in one corner) and at least one saucepan or small frying pan. measuring spoons/cups are useful but i’ve tried to include thicknesses and alternatives so you can eyeball it if you have to (i usually do, just because i know what i’m looking for lol)

you will also need some of the following (check your specific cupcake type to find out which): a box of cake mix or ingredients to make your own cake mix, cream cheese, condensed milk, butter, powdered sugar, lemons/limes/oranges, chocolate, vanilla extract (real is recommended; i know it’s more expensive but the increase in quality is worth it if you can), lemon extract, heavy cream, pumpkin pie spice (or at least nutmeg + cinnamon), and fruit of your choice.

CUPCAKE

okay so: box mix is fine. it’s good. great, even. as long as you do this: replace the oil with butter. add an extra egg. i don’t care how many eggs it calls for. i know it feels like a lot of eggs. add an egg anyway. add a sprinkle of extra salt. a tsp or so. you’ve already made a good cupcake!

vanilla:

add a tablespoon (about three capfuls, if you don’t have measuring spoons) of REAL vanilla extract if you can afford it (or i really like the vanilla paste that has specks of bean in it. 10/10)

citrus:

one teaspoon (one capful) vanilla extract. two-ish teaspoons of lemon extract. zest of one lemon. zest of one orange (i like blood orange particularly much) or lime. replace 1/2 cup of the water with lemon and lime or orange juice. add about a tbsp of extra sugar.

spice:

two teaspoons pumpkin pie spice (you can see the spice in the batter without it discoloring the batter) + one tablespoon vanilla extract.

chocolate:

it’s already perfect xoxo. JUST KIDDING. add a tablespoon of vanilla extract.

instructions:

these ratios are for 24 cupcakes. take your cupcake pan and line it with cupcake papers. you can grease the top of the pan if you’re anxious, but it shouldn’t be necessary, especially if you have a nonstick pan. then just mix your batter until it’s not particularly lumpy and fill your cupcake papers about a third of the way full. a quarter cup measure is easiest for me to use bc the amount that easily comes out of it is about the right amount & it drips less than a spoon does. then i like to use a spoon to push the batter up the sides a little so it holds the fillings better.

FILLINGS

you can mix and match the hell out of these, honestly. i typically do cheesecake in everything & then fruit in vanilla or citrus cupcakes, specifically apple or cranberry in spice cupcakes, & chocolate in vanilla or chocolate cupcakes.

cheesecake:

one package softened cream cheese + 10 oz (2/3 a 14 oz can) condensed milk. stir on low heat until smooth, then add 2 teaspoons vanilla extract. DON’T add sugar. it’s not supposed to be very sweet.

fruit compote:

literally just half a cup or so of frozen or fresh fruit. i’ve done this with raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, cranberries, apples (fresh and cubed is best), and peaches. anything is fair game, honestly. i want to try stewed kumquats and plums at some point. if frozen, add a tiny bit of water. if fresh, add about as much water as you have fruit. squeeze some lemon and lime in there. add sugar to taste. for the apple spice mix, add another teaspoon of vanilla and a teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice.

IMPORTANT: you do NOT want this to be sweet. this is NOT jam. it should be a little tart when you taste it. if it’s not thick enough, slurry a tbsp of cornstarch in a little bit of cold water and stir it in. it should be thick enough to not drip off of a spoon when you turn it upside down.

ganache:

heat a cup of heavy cream on very low heat. i like to do a double boiler: saucepan half-full of water, bowl full of cream in the saucepan. when the cream is warm, stir in most of a package of dark chocolate chips. stir HARD—whisk the shit out of it. DO NOT let any of the water get into the bowl!! you want the ganache to be gloppy when you lift it with a spoon—it has to not soak into the cupcake mix.

instructions:

so you have your 1/3 full cupcake wrappers with the batter spooned a little bit up the sides. using a small kitchen spoon, drop a spoonful of cheesecake into each cupcake. then top that with a spoonful of ganache or a spoonful of fruit compote (or both! it’s your kitchen!). spoon batter over the top and down the sides. fully covered, it should come to just under the top of the cupcake wrapper—i usually have 1/4 to 1/8 of an inch grace.

pop that in the oven according to the box instructions. i usually find that cupcakes with fillings take the longer time listed, rather than the shortest one. when your time goes off, touch the top of a cupcake. if it feels firm (think: ripe plum; you can push on it and it’s soft but it doesn’t cave in), it’s probably done. you can also put a toothpick down one of the sides, rather than the middle. pull your cupcakes out of the oven, put in your second batch, and set these aside to cool.

FROSTINGS

there are two frostings that go well here. i tend to like buttercream for vanilla and citrus and cream cheese for apple spice and chocolate. your mileage may vary. this is where the sweetness comes from, without overwhelming the cupcake!

buttercream:

let two sticks of butter (one unsalted and one salted) soften on your countertop. DON’T melt them. when they’re room temperature and you could mold them with your fingers, put them in a bowl. a mixer is best for this stage, but you can do it with a whisk and spatula if you’re determined, have patience, or can switch out with someone else. whip the butter a little. add five cups of powdered sugar, a cup at a time.

for a vanilla cupcake, add a tablespoon of vanilla extract (or vanilla paste! the specks are SO cool looking!) and use heavy cream to even out the texture until you think it’s pipeable (you’re looking for “holds its shape without being Chunky”). for a citrus cupcake, add a teaspoon of citrus extract and lime juice until it’s pipeable. two sticks of butter is too much, but one stick usually isn’t quite enough, and i prefer to have extra to practice piping with.

cream cheese frosting:

let one package (8oz) of cream cheese soften on your countertop. mix it in a bowl until smooth. add about four cups (3/4 a regular water cup, i think) of powdered sugar—again, we’re looking for “pipeable without being inflexible”. add a tablespoon of vanilla extract/paste and use heavy cream if you need to soften the texture at all.

both of these frostings take coloring very well. something that i personally love is doing a sort of gradient, where i’ll add red to one side and mix it well, yellow to another side and mix it well, make some orange in the middle, and leave some white here and there. then spoon from each section into a piping bag and voila, free beautiful swirls. you can also use a knife to frost your cupcakes, but i think piping is fairly easy to pick up on if you try it a few times, and it makes your cupcakes look that much more professional.

instructions:

make SURE your cupcakes are COOL TO THE TOUCH before you frost them! pop them in the fridge if you’re in a hurry! a single layer of piping should be enough, but decorate if you want. icing sugar is pretty. don’t go too overboard with sprinkles—they make it hard to eat.

voila! cupcakes.

SUBSTITUTIONS

i have made these gluten-free, dairy-free, corn-free, vegan, etc etc. gluten free box mix is fine. your own powdered sugar (powdered sugar + tapioca starch) is great. you can do a coconut milk pudding instead of cheesecake or ganache. you can do baking soda + vinegar instead of baking powder (1/4 tsp bs + 1/2 tsp vinegar per tsp baking powder). if you’re allergic to fruit, i am SO SORRY for you but please try the chocolate ones. you can substitute any extract, any flavor profile, any combination of ingredients. if you’re using a commercial egg substitute, just add an extra 1/4 cup of it. if you’re using flaxseed, just add an extra tablespoon of flaxseed + 3 tablespoons water.

it may not come out exactly the same as the standard ones, but my friends with dietary restrictions still swear by them. i have never brought cupcakes home from a party. i don’t think anyone who’s ever tried one has not gotten a second helping. people who swear they aren’t cupcake people love these cupcakes. (it’s because they aren’t overly sweet or moist or dry and they aren’t one-note, because the fillings add complexity of texture and flavor. there you go, now you know how to describe your new cupcakes to people).

congrats! you’re about to be everyone’s favorite party guest!

[mediocre-writerr]

we’re going down [leah rilke]

bring us through: leah rilke book

chapter 2: we’re going down

*not my gif*

The private jet was fancier than any plane I’ve ever been on. Seats where your feet weren’t cramped like a bunch of sardines in a sardine can. A smell that doesn’t smell like someone just ate the whole Taco Bell menu before they came on.

It was clean and polished. No spot had a stain, like it was brand new. Perfect as one would say.

Here’s the thing about perfection though: everyone has their own version of perfect.

Here’s the thing about me: I didn’t know that until much more recently.

There were many trials and tribulations with my family, especially when it came to perfection...or well perfection in my dad’s eyes. But somehow, some way, we always came out stronger. There was one time where my mom didn’t get the job we needed to really help our financial situation, and my dad got so angry that she wasn’t perfect that she had to go live with my aunt for a couple months. But when she came back with a new better job, my dad celebrated her. We went to a fancy restaurant in the city and ate the most expensive food on the menu. Then my older sister didn’t marry the guy my dad wanted her to and he disowned her for a few months. Until she came back with more money and a grandkid for our parents. He threw the baby a huge baptism party, spending loads of money buying them a house and the necessities for a baby.

My mom not getting a job? Fixed with a big celebration dinner. My sister not marrying the man my dad wants? Fixed with a huge baptism party and buying them a house.

I’m valedictorian, on the verge of going to the most prestigious school in Texas on a full ride: Rice University. And then right when everything in life seemed to be perfect, I messed everything up. There was no way coming back up from this one.

I was just sitting at the kitchen table during dinner. Eating mom’s classic country fried steak and mashed potatoes with gravy. Occasionally, participating in awkward conversation about how good the food is. I felt like I slept-walked there, barely able to recall the argument before dinner, the yelling, the screaming. Remembering for the thousandth time in the past week, that she was gone.

I sat there awkwardly, waiting for the other foot to drop. That I was just going to get kicked to the curb like everyone else who didn’t follow what my dad has planned for their life. But as my younger brothers went upstairs for bed I recognized something on my dad’s face that I had never seen since they found out. His face dressed in a big smile, like he was just told he’s going to Disney World.

As if on beat, he leaned in closer to me from across the table. And I knew that things were about to go for a crash-landing. His unusual happiness at my disobedience was going to wreck havoc into my life.

He cleared his throat hesitantly as my mother joined us back on the table. His breath smelled like his usual bourbon, “So Raleigh,” he said, crossing his fingers together with my mom’s, “We have a fun surprise for you.”

As if on cue there was a knock on the door. My father gestured for me to go get the door. I opened it revealing Shelby and her parents. I stopped short in my place, both of us frozen with confusion written all over our faces. But her parents had an unfamiliar expression: genuine happiness?

I cleared my throat, trying to piece everything together, “Hi Mr and Mrs. Goodkind. It’s a pleasant surprise. My parents are at the kitchen table.”

I open the door wider for them as the two of them say their hello’s and walk inside, “What’s going on?” I ask Shelby and she shrugs.

“I have no idea,” she whispers back, “But it can’t be good.”

The two of us sat across from our parents, as they stared at us with grins on their faces. But it’s as if the grins had a double meaning to them, “We wanted to talk to the two of you about something. We know the two of you are as thick as thieves, I mean you never shut up about each other.” Mr. Goodkind laughs, trying to ease the awkward tension, but it misses by a longshot.

Me and Shelby laugh along awkwardly, as we look at each other with a side glance. They said fun surprise. Not we’re kicking you out onto the streets. But we knew, from the way that our mom’s wouldn’t look at us or from the way our father’s faces grew more and more stern by the second, that something was about to go down.

My dad fetched something from his office. Two envelopes with our name scrawled across it, with a pamphlet in his name. The pamphlet in big bold letters saying: Dawn of Eve.

“We want you to have this,” my dad says, “It’s a gift for the two of you.”

We slowly opened the envelopes revealing a plane ticket to Hawaii, along with an itinerary, “It’s a retreat,” my mom blurted, “A beautiful month trip to Hawaii with other girls around your age. You’ll love it. Find your true self. Growing.”

Mrs. Goodkind chimes in, “Aromatherapy messages, swimming with dolphins, workshops!”

“A chance for the two of you girls to discover who you’re really ought to be.” Mr. Goodkind says.

And at that point I knew. It wasn’t just any retreat, it was a retreat to get our shit together.

I closed the overhead container, like closing the container would shut out the memories too. Looking for a distraction, I opened up Instagram on my phone scrolling through various posts of people back home and celebrities flaunting off their life.

Everyone seemed to have taken their seats. The brunette with a book sat in the back away from everyone else, holding onto the book like her life depended on it. The ‘put on your seatbelt’ sign flashed above us, as a video began playing on the screen in front of us.

“Right now, hundreds of girls just like yourselves, board charters just like this one, are on route to our retreat in Kona, Hawaii.” the middle-aged lady said.

But I wasn’t quite focused on that, but rather the girl in the back all by herself. She was staring blankly at the seat in front of her, not paying attention to anyone in the plane or the video.

“The Dawn of Eve literally waits for no man.” the lady says, causing me to catch my attention.

I looked at my best friend who was captivated by the video. I give her a look and she just shrugs. The air on the plane was tense as we lifted off into the air. It seemed like nobody wanted to be here. So Shelby did what she did best.

“I’m gonna start an icebreaker to get to know everyone.” she states, starting to get up from out of her seat.

I pull her back down as fast as I could, “Shelb, really? We’re not on a mission.”

But she just pulled out of my grasp standing up. I let out a sigh, even though everyone would hate this idea, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t support her? “So, in the interest of bringing us all together I would like to propose a little ice breaker.”

I could literally feel everyone’s eye roll in the room. An asian girl with bangs stood up suggesting ‘Never Have I Ever’. But of course peppy Shelby shot down her suggestion. She was never one for those types of games. Especially with all of the secrets she keeps hidden inside.

“Alright I’m gonna start with an introduction and play matchmaker,” she says walking up and down the aisle.

I was trying to pay attention to Shelby, but for some reason I kept looking back at that beautiful brunette. Who did not seem to be interested in anything Shelby was saying. Her nose still knee-deep in that book of hers, curled onto her side, reading like it was life or death.

“And this is my best friend Raleigh Fuller,” my best friend says, snapping out of my trance. She looks at you with the look as she follows your gaze to the girl in the back, “We’re from Dillon, Texas.”

She grabs my hand, dragging me all the way towards the back, sitting next to the girl, “You two will be paired up together. Have fun you two.” she says to me with a wink before walking back down the aisle.

The brunette didn’t acknowledge me though, but rather kept reading her book. I cleared my throat, awkwardly, trying to gain her attention.

“The Nature Of Her? By Jeffrey Galanis.” I said, squinting at the book cover across from me.

That seemed to have caught her attention, “You’ve read it?”

“No. I actually never heard of it, but it seems like it’s interesting. If you’ve been having your nose stuffed in since I accidentally ran into you.” I say jokingly with a small smile.

The flight attendant came by with a cart full of chocolate cake. We both thank him softly, before indulging in the richness of the cake.

She didn’t respond after that all she did was stick her nose in her book again. But it seemed like she wasn’t even reading the pages. After three seconds she’s already flipping onto another page.

I cleared my throat, scratching the back of my neck. I mean what am I supposed to say? The girl clearly didn’t want to be bothered. It’s like the writing in those pages were magical. The old me would just sit back in the leather private jet chair, feeling sorry for myself about her completely ignoring me. Probably thinking something like: wow, I guess I’m really not cool. Or spit out a random fact since that’s all I know like: competitive art used to be in the Olympics.

But that past me was probably dug next to the old Taylor Swift’s grave. The lyric that goes: “I’m sorry the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now...why? Cause she’s dead.” Yeah that’s how I’m feeling on the inside, so instead I say, “You know it’s kinda rude that we’re supposed to be having a conversation, but you’re completely ignoring me.”

She let out a laugh and took one glance up from the book. Finally being met with her bright blue eyes, “Does it look like I want to be bothered right now?”

“No, but it looks like you’re reading the same page over and over again. Like it’s the only thing that can keep your heart beating,” I said, “What’s so interesting about that book anyway?”

She studied me for a brief moment. Her eyes leave the pages of that book for more than five seconds.

Finally, she said, “Look, it’s one of my favorite books. But I don’t think there’s a rule against rereading your favorite book over and over again. That’s like me telling you that you can’t read Wuthering Heights over and over again.”

Now it was my turn to stare at the girl.

She was right. She may have been a closed off book, but so was I. I used to be one of those people who would kill to ask thousands of questions about what that book was about. Or why she loved it so much. I would love to join in and lead on Shelby’s icebreakers. But now? Sometimes, I don’t even want to talk to Shelby.

I wanted to apologize for my comments. These days, I can’t control my own emotions or what I want to say anymore.

I’m sorry, I imagined myself saying, I’m sorry that I was a complete pain in the butt. I didn’t mean to judge you and how invested you are in that book. My parents found out my deepest darkest secret. And instead of accepting me with open loving arms they decided to send me to a retreat. A retreat in which I’m pretty sure is a conversion therapy camp, but they don’t want to say that out loud. So they call it a fun surprise for me and my best friend. While the girl I fell in love with is just gone. I used to be this bright bubbly girl, but now I’m not. So, please forgive me for my behavior since you probably don’t want to be here either.

That’s a little TMI, don’t you think?

I open my mouth and start to utter those meaningless two words when my best friend came rushing past.

“Shelby? Where are you going?” I ask, surprised at how fast she was moving.

“I got chocolate cake in my teeth.” she mumbles, covering her face in her hand and I immediately got the message.

“Ah got it.”

Shelby rushed back into the bathroom and I turned to the brunette in front of me again. The closed-book of a girl, opening my mouth once more ready to mumble the two most overused words. But the plane started shaking, jolting us back and forth. The two of us look at each other, tilting our heads to the side.

“Hello everyone. We’re experiencing a little turbulence.” The plane continued to jolt and it seemed like more than just a little turbulence, “Actually a lot of turbulence!” the pilot yells.

The lights flashing on and off. The brunette just shoved her face back in the book. This could be our last moments on Earth and she’s still reading that book! I get up from out of my seat, banging on the bathroom door.

“Shelby! Open the door!” I yell.

My blonde best friend came bursting out and she fell onto her knees on the floor. Praying to the God she still whole-heartedly believed in. I fell down on the ground next to her, holding her in my arms as she prayed. I didn’t pray, but rather sat there thinking that this was the end.

[merlinbingo]

Clearly AUgust was a theme that spoke to you all, because of the 64 fills last month almost a third claimed the bonus badge! It’s the most fills there’s been in a month since February, and almost double the number of bonus badges I usually send out, and I am just so incredibly pleased with the response to this little event.

I really don’t have words to convey just how wonderful I think you all are, so instead I shall just share all the glorious fills created this month! As always, they’re sorted by ship and then by rating, and you should all pay attention to the warnings and practice self-care before you click on those links!

Gen

Young Arthur wanders through the valley of kings by Ice-mint Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Close encounters by warpedalignment Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Arthur is woken in the middle of the night. Why? To hunt a witch, of course.

Through a Solid Wall by lancelitttle (lancelot2point0) Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Lancelot tries to find Platform 9 and 3/4's. He ends up with more than he bargained for, which doesn't seem all that bad, actually.

There was only one bed by ice-mint Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Superhero Resurrection Moodboards by zoingfandom Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Griffin by wmolecules Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

King Cenred by ice-mint Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

The one where Henry the Guard gets a shock by warpedalignment Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: One of the new guards ran straight into Leon in the hallway, breathless and deathly pale, as though he’d seen something distinctly terrifying. Or Leon teaches a new guard how to act in Camelot.

Elena + tumblr tags by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

The Hobbit by hiddlydiddly Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine meets a hobbit.

Head Jerks by gremlinbehaviour Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: After a head injury, Lancelot finds himself beginning to have tics

The Effects of Rain by gremlinbehaviour Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Elyan and Percival get drenched while on patrol, but when they return to the castle, Elyan realizes that it isn't just the cold and wet making him feel bad. Gwaine is there to look after him

Elena Fisher, Queen of Gawant by gremlinbehaviour Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Elena had heard the prophecy about Arthur returning when he was needed most, but she hadn't been expecting to be reborn herself, much less 1500 years after she had died. Despite the surprise of it, though, she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to explore this new and fantastic world and all the ancient ruins and handsome adventurers that came with it. Crossover with the Uncharted Video Game series

the pretty-faced, high ranking knight with the long, dark hair by gremlinbehaviour Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine and Lancelot get mistaken for each other, resulting in some chaos and injury

Hard Feelings by gwen-cheers-me-up Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: After being rescued from the Dark Tower, Gwen is distant, sleepless, and easily startled. Perhaps most jarring of all is that she stops saying ‘I love you.’ Gwaine never started. As Gwen struggles to fit into her old life and her old relationships while carrying these new traumas, Elyan decides that Gwaine might be just the right person to help her begin to heal.

Albion Apartments by UisceOneLove Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin recovers from a sprained ankle.

Belonging by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Major character death Summary: Arthur sets out to follow Merlin’s orders, and tries not to think. About anything, really.

Out-of-body by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Major character death Summary: Freya receives an offer.

Feel by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Major character death, Graphic depictions of violence Summary: Merlin struggles to cope, after Camlann

Knights and romance by merlinsprat Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

Little Chick by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: Merlin has nightmares about another boy, far away, who needs help.

Speculation by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine and Merlin get drunk and make bets

Deep Wounds by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Arthur and Morgana have a long overdue discussion

Palms, Fingers, Nails, Again. by emrys-everlasting Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Summary: In which we join Leon as he tries to remember where his sword has gone – and why his nails, his clothes, and his face are covered in drying blood and ichor.

Freya/Gwaine

What Happened In The Hot Tub by forever-rewatching-merlin Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Missing scene from the fic “High Hopes & Slippery Slopes” by Saltedkiss. Just what were Freya and Gwaine getting up to in that hot tub before Arthur stormed in and oh so rudely interrupted them? 😉

Freya/Merlin

Bastet Blanket Battle by gremlinbehaviour Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin is a blanket hog, Freya is cold, and the Bastet does something about it

Mordred/Morgana

Your Pain is My Pleasure by MerthurAllure Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Mordred’s mistress gives him what he deserves, which coincidentally is exactly what he wants.

Uther/Ygraine

Agravaine the Agravated by SandySins Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Summary: The story of Agravaine and his petty villain story, trying and failing to take revenge on Uther.

Elyan/Gwaine/Percival

Show Praise With Your Body by UisceOneLove Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Spring Break means a fun time clubbing. And Gwaine always gets what he wants.

The Blacksmith, the Rogue and the Stranger by donttouchtheneednoggle Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: One chance encounter and then another leads to a change in destiny for two wayward souls and one very confused farmer...

Merlin/Gwaine/Lancelot

Who's First by gremlinbehaviour Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin, Gwaine, and Lancelot try to sneak back into their room after a midnight escapade, but Gaius catches them and rather forcibly tends to their injuries first

Merlin/Gwaine/Arthur

I See What You See by evaelisaa Rating: Mature Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: Arthur doesn’t like his soulmate. He doesn’t like them at all. Every single time he sees flashes of what his soulmate is seeing at that moment, the person seems to be either getting naked, is already naked and/or is doing stuff to another human being Arthur couldn’t have even imagined in his wildest dreams. Well, either that, or they seem to be drinking mead, in a different tavern each time as well even.

Arthur/Elyan

Ready, Set, Win! by sam4587 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Elyan and Arthur are at Elyan’s football game.

Arthur/Gwaine

Sixty-Nine by @little-ligi Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine goes to the king's chamber to ask him a question about training, and ends up asking a very different one instead; does he want company? Does what it says on the tin! 😉

Gwaine/Percival

Lay All Your Love On Me by UisceOneLove Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Percival has found soulmate Gwaine in their new lives.

Merlin/Gwaine

Love and Pigeons by warpedalignment Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine wants to show Merlin something. Merlin is positive he does not want to see.

how you love by miofrommars Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine's love language is acts of service and gifts. Always has been. So when a beautiful stranger gets into his car mistaking him for his uber, he can't help but drive the pretty guy to his destination

Carrot Cake by warpedalignment Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Gwaine wakes up to an empty bed.

Ebb and Flow by forever-rewatching-merlin Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Major character death Summary: Poetry, Gwaine POV, Angst, Pining, Self Esteem Issues

Merlin/Arthur

The Modern Age by warpedalignment Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Arthur is positive he knows what the noises are. He has been briefed by Merlin, after all.

Fireworks in our hearts by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

My Fire's Always With You by Dark_Angel23 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Summary: A playlist for the prompt 'Witch Hunt'. The songs tell a story of how a witch hunter comes to Camelot, and Merlin is captured and burnt on the pyre. Being immortal, he survives and later leaves Camelot. These songs try to portray his feelings and state of being, and well as Arthur's.

Moving Forward by Mischel Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: It has been a year since Arthur found out about Merlin's magic, and today, he finally forgives him.

A Sofa by the Sea by RavenGirl42 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: “I hate that stick. I don’t want to use it,” Arthur pouted. “You’re adorable when you sulk, Arthur Pendragon. But if you use it, your new hip will heal more quickly and then you’ll be able to stop using it sooner. So just do as you’re told, for once.” “I feel so old. I can’t believe I had to have a hip replacement.” “I hate to be the one to tell you, but you’re in your seventies. You are old." Merlin and Arthur are an old married couple who've retired to the seaside.

Agravaine + merthur by thebookluvrr1816 Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary:

me and you [against the world] by OnceFutureEmrys Rating: General audiences Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: He wanted to wake up to Merlin by his side every day. He wanted to hold him, he wanted to smell vanilla every morning. And when he looked at him—groggy, with his hair stuck in many directions, his clothes ruffled and him with a tired smile—he never wanted to leave those moments. And it wasn't just that, he never wanted to leave ever. He wanted to spend all his time with Merlin, he wanted to have picnic dates that turned into food fights and movie marathons that turned into make-out sessions and all their moments in between. He wanted to forever hold onto these inside jokes and their laughs and their touches and their smiles and their looks; he wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever because Arthur never wanted to leave this. He didn't know what he would do without this. OR: Arthur has been in many relationships before, but this one felt different. Right. Especially when he realizes he's madly in love with him.

Please, Oh Please, This Role Is Suffocating by @the-ballad-of-deancas Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: Merlin wants to scream his name at the skies, fold him into his arms and crush him to his chest but as he steps toward his destiny, the world falls away, inconsequential and unimportant until the only thing that remains is the fact that Arthur is here. He is finally, irrevocably real and he is here. OR: Where Arthur returns and a lot has changed since he left but the one thing that hasn't, is their feelings toward each other. There are secrets left to uncover and identities left to discover even as a dangerous opponent looms over them. Will they manage it all; will they save themselves and Albion in time?

Exquisite by warpedalignment Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Arthur is told categorically not to talk to the ambrosius' when they visit. This would be fine, if he could follow simple instructions.

The Dragon's Call by tehfanglyfish Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: “I need a dragon. Your biggest one.” “I’m sorry?” It had been a slow day at Ealdor Exotic Veterinary Clinic and Animal Rescue and Merlin Emrys wasn’t quite prepared for the suit-clad stranger who’d just thrown open the door and marched in, making demands without even an attempt at a greeting.

i’ve always dreamed of flying (and being with you) by ambrosius Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: When Merlin vanishes after exposing his magic, Arthur feels as if his whole world has been upended and he's never felt more alone. But when a little bird starts showing up everywhere he goes, Arthur thinks that maybe there is still some hope after all.

Something Wicked This Way Comes by UisceOneLove Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: It's Merlin, not Gwen, who Morgana takes to the Tower full of mandrakes.

I Won't Break Your Heart, If You Can Break My Spell by Mischel Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin is tired of waiting around for Arthur to finally accept the fact that Merlin is in love with him and do something about it. So, he takes matters into his own hands . . . and curses himself with a spell that can only be broken by a true love's kiss.

let it break ('cause you and I remain the same) by queerofthedagger Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: The magic was revealed, the shouting and explanations were done, and yet there remains one secret, one confession to be made. They always were easiest to declare in the light of a fire and only the forest bearing witness.

Gonna Rip it Off (Leave it Alone) by UisceOneLove Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: There is nothing Arthur hated more than Will's smug face when the bastard has beat them in a game.

I Can See The Stars In The Freckles On His Face by Dark_Angel23 Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Arthur is hungry. Merlin is late.

Couch Heaven by Mischel Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin and Arthur sit on a couch under one blanket, watching videos of them that Merlin had recorded on his phone. One of them is Arthur trying to eat ice cream for the first time in a really embarrassing way, but the other one is, to Arthur's surprise, actually really nice.

Across The Bar by TheCourtSorcerer (/ tcs-main) Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin & Arthur, old childhood friends, meet at a bar in the states after seven years of not seeing one another.

where the road takes us by TheCourtSorcerer Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Merlin gets in a fight at school, and Hunith has to drive him to A&E. Arthur feels guilty.

a very special thing by TheCourtSorcerer Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Looking for a resting place for the evening, on his way home to Camelot, Arthur stumbles across a handsome selkie named Merlin.

hold me like the night sky holds the moon by TheCourtSorcerer Rating: Teen Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Sometimes, it's overwhelming. Never a chance to be simply him, always a prince, always an heir, never a man, never a son. Sometimes, he just needs a break. A pause in time. Sometimes, he just needs to be held.

Wet N Wild by MerthurAllure Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: Officer Emrys takes Arthur back to his flat where they continue their fun.

A Brooding Pendragon by MerthurAllure Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: Rape/non-con Summary: In order for a dragon egg to grow and hatch, it needs to be incubated within someone with Pendragon blood.

That's How We Roll by @little-ligi Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: No archive warnings apply Summary: It's games night, and that means a night of sexual tension and edging as they each try to be the last one standing. Very sexually charged games and multiple pairings. Friends with group benefits... if you know what I mean... 😉

Steampunk AU – Reclist for Merlin Bingo by Clea2011 Rating: Explicit Ao3 warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Summary: Rec list for Steampunk AU square and August bonus badge