#✦ fish boy (you’re fond of)

[xornoth-of-rivendell]

my parents used to be so insistent about me checking my mail; guess i’m finally getting to it.

i’ve got far too many titles to list- sovereign of rivendell, descendant of alinar, scott’s older sibling, et cetera; but xornoth works just fine. send me letters and my owls will deliver them.. eventually. (there’s no rush. please. i have enough to do already.)

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#✦ opened letters : answered asks

#✦ from the royal scrolls : original posts

#✦ ink and quill : replies/reblogs

#✦ prophecy foretold : finished threads

#✦ crown prince : scott interactions

#✦ fish boy (you’re fond of) : jimmy interactions

#✦ sealed away : lore related

#✦ star’s speaking : ooc posts

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ooc info ↓

hii im your mod star (they/them >_>)

this is a pre-corruption xornoth au! scott is crown prince and xornoth is the current sovereign.

anons are encouraged, as are original characters/other rp blogs! i will be playing xornoth as a little brash/blunt, though, so keep that in mind! it’s not personal <3

associated with @scott-of-rivendell, @jimmy-thecodfather and @kingsausageofmythland ^_^

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[buckyalpine]

Bucky and Alpine are my favorite duo !! He’d be such a cute cat dad . And I just imagine Alpine not being fond of company, just like her grumpy dad . And if he’s ever brought over any girl he’d always hiss and try to wack them . But when you’re in his home for the first time , Bucky is worried it’s gonna happen again . But Alpine instantly curls in your legs and purrs for your to pet her. When you sit on the couch , she follows you and nudges your jaw or hand to give her scratches and ends up falling asleep on your lap . Bucky is bewildered this is happening and his heart warms that his baby likes you . Overtime you and Alpine are inseparable and Bucky’s favorite thing is to come back home to you and Alpine curled up on the couch , giving the both of you head kisses (🐚)

I LOVE THISS. Alpine takes after her daddy 100%. Ever since he adopted her and tucked into into his leather jacket, the two have been joined at the hip. They are inseparable. It's always just been the two of them. Just her and her favorite hooman, cuddling, napping, judging anything with a pulse.

It's perfect.

Until he starts to date. Alpine hates it. The way these girls look at her daddy, swooning and giggling, always trying to take away her favourite spot; her daddy's lap. That place is reserved for her and her only. No one else gets to nuzzle into his neck or curl up on his chest. Taking up her spot on his bed is also a huge no-no. She hated how they'd squeal or screech trying to pet her or worse, pick her up for a cuddle. Disgusting. There had already been a few close calls but Alpine made sure it never went a step further. A swing of her little paw to the head is enough to send most away instantly.

Who were these strangers and why did they keep disturbing her. She hated people.

Except her daddy.

"Um-"

"Bucky if you're not sure about this, we can wait-

"No!" Bucky shakes his head, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while you waited for him to open the door to his apartment. How was he supposed to tell you that the reason he was worried about bringing you home was because his life was ruled by his cat. That the little fluffy ball of fur controlled who went in and out of the house; anyone that wasn't him, wasn't welcome. The first dates he brought over didn't matter all too much. Bucky didn't see much of a future with them anyway so he didn't try to get his furbaby to warm up to them with a second try.

You were different.

He'd liked girls before but this time he was certain it was love. The last thing he wanted was for his 3 lb, 1ft fluffy demon to chase you away too.

"I don't want to wait, it's not that I'm not ready" Bucky nervously chewed his lip, "I guess I'm just nervous" He played it off, not wanting to worry you as he fished his keys out of his pocket.

"We can take all the time you need, Sergeant" You gave his hand a gentle squeeze with a reassuring smile, "M'not going anywhere"

Love. He definitely loved you. How he hoped his cat would be in a good mood.

-

Alpine narrowed her eyes at the door hearing more than one voice, ready to pounce on whoever walked through. The furs on her neck stood up as Bucky walked in, accompanied by his date though this was different. Her daddy didn't seem as sure of himself as he usually did. He was stumbling over his words. She was sure she could feel his body heat radiating off him from feet away. He had shy smile plastered on his face the entire time as he brought her into the apartment. In Alpines opinion, he looked like an idiot, nearly tripping over one of her mice and blushing like a school boy.

This girl wasn't like the others.

Her daddy really liked this one.

A lot.

-

As soon as you sat down, Alpine decided to introduce herself, hopping into your lap and nuding her head into your hand. You giggled, giving her a gentle scratch before setting your hand down to give her some space but she didn't seem interested in you stopping. She purred at the soft coo's you made, nuzzling her head further for more pets.

"Merp" Alpine let out a content chitter while you were none the wiser.

"She's so friendly" You whispered, not wanting to disturb Bucky's little best friend while he blinked in confusion, stunned seeing his tiny ball of havoc curled into your lap, making biscuits with her paws, a content purr rumbling from her chest.

"Aren't you a sweet angel" You whispered, continuing to pet her silky fur as she slept soundly, not realizing Bucky's jaw on the floor. "What's her name?"

"This little shit"

Your face twisted in confusion while Bucky still didn't answer your question, slowly and silently moving himself until he was at eye-level with his master.

"Hey" He whisper hissed, cocking an eyebrow when she reluctantly opened one eye, "Alp, you little shit"

"Merp" Alpine gave Bucky's cheek a light swat of her paw before cuddling up further into your lap leaving you in stitches.

"I see she owns you" You giggled while Bucky shook his head, butterflies already erupting in his tummy. He already knew you were special but if Alpine liked you, that was something else. Seeing his baby fall in love with you the way he did sealed it all. It became something Bucky never got tired of seeing; his precious little angel doting and cuddling up with the girl of his dreams. Whenever you were around, Alpine was instantly in your lap or in your arms, the two of you inseparable.

-

"Doll? Alpline?" Bucky called as he dropped his bag at the front door, toeing his boots off and stretching before making his way to the living room.

"My girls" he smiled, finding you both curled up with your favourite show on, Alpine sleeping on top of the soft blanket you were wrapped in, "How are you babygirl" Bucky leaned down to kiss the top of your head before kneeling down so he could give his fur baby one as well, "And you, princess"

"We missed you" You gave Bucky grabby hands, sighing happily as he wrapped you up in his arms, holding you extra tight before setting you back down.

"Not as much as me. I'll shower and we'll get some dinner" Bucky tucked you back in your blanket before scooping up Alpine in his arms for an extra cuddle, "Daddy missed you princess, shhh" Bucky shushed her discontent meowing as she was taken away from you. Her tail swished as he plopped her onto the bed and quickly showered, rustling from his bag before pulling out a little bag and a tiny box.

"Ready to surprise mommy?" Bucky whispered, fastening a red collar onto his cat and tying a ring that would sit under her chin with a little handwritten note. He picked up Alpine and set her on her way back to you before nervously wiping his hands against his jeans, taking a deep breath.

"What do you have there baby" Bucky could hear your voice from the living room, followed by a gasp. He took one final breath before making his way over.

He couldn't wait to marry you.

[prythiansprincess]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

[rose-pearls]

Early morning

Summary: a secret early morning rendez-vous is crashed by a sleepy Percy.

This is the first time I am writing for Percy Jackson, but I have been loving the serie so far and I am reading the books so hopefully you like this! Requests are open!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (Open for every fandom)

The sun was starting to rise as two figures moved towards the lake, you could hear their giggling in the distance, one figure trying to shush the other but in vain.

“Luke, common we have to be quiet.”, she whispers, and the boy tries in vain to hide his beaming smile.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t stop seeing Mister D’s face while he was sleeping.”, he whispers, and the girl does try to not laugh but, in the end, she fails, and a giggle escapes.

“He sure was fashionable.”, the words make Luke laugh louder and you slap him softly on the shoulder to quiet him down.

“Common, let’s get closer to the water.”, he whispers before taking your hand and bringing you to the shore, smiling as you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this sooner, this week has been hectic.”, you whisper after a moment, but the boy shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing you closer.

“Don’t worry, I know that Percy was your priority particularly with Clarisse on the hunt for him.”, he says in a teasing tone, and you roll your eyes.

“It is not funny! That woman scares me sometimes, Percy is thinking of hiding in the ocean for the rest of his life.”, you tell him and Luke snorts.

“I can already see him sassing the fishes.”, he says and at this you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot.”, you say with a fond smile on your lips.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot.”, he whispers before bringing you into a loving kiss, it feels good to have him this close again after a long week of only seeing each other for a few moments. 

The kiss quickly deepens, and you can’t help but want to bring him closer to you, even if he is already so close that you can feel his heart beating fast.

“Luke.”, you whisper, breathless, at the touch of his lips against your neck, a smirk on his lips as he continues to kiss down your neck.

“Missed you so much beautiful.”, he whispers against the juncture of your neck, and you let out a soft sigh while brushing your hand through his curls.

“Missed you too handsome.”, you tell him, feeling his arms tightening around your body.

“I’ll talk to Percy, I don’t like hiding this from him.”, at your words you feel Luke moving to look you into your eyes.

“Really?”, he seems surprised, and you could understand why, you had told him that you wanted to keep it a secret for the time being when Percy arrived to camp. The boy was getting to know you and soon the two of you got closer making him protective of you, even towards Luke.

“Yes, it will probably be a complicated conversation, but I don’t want to hide anymore.”, a bright smile appears on Luke’s lips before he brings you into a heated kiss.

“What the hell?!”, you hear someone yell, pushing Luke away only to find Percy looking at you with wide eyes, his blue pajamas still a mess from sleeping.

“I can explain, this all a misunderstanding.”, you tell him and even half asleep the boy manages to give you an unimpressed look.

“Really? Please tell me how your lips ended up on his by ‘misunderstanding’”, he says, and you can’t help but let out a scared laughter. 

“Right, Luke and I are dating.”, you tell him, there is a loud silence following your words while Percy seems to try and think your words through.

“Wait. You are dating him?”, he says, looking confused as he points at Luke, the Hermes boy looking a bit scared for a moment.

“Yes, I am.”, you say, trying to look confident and Percy let’s out a breath of relief.

“Oh, thank god, I thought you were dating Clarisse.”, his words make Luke, and you look at him weirdly.

“Wait you thought-”

“You thought she was dating Clarisse?!”, Luke yells and Percy throws his hands in the air.

“She didn’t want to go hide in the ocean with me to hide from Clarisse or agree to throw her into the nearest dumpster, so I thought she liked her.”, he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world and you have to try to not laugh or scream at your brother.

“Percy, I didn’t want to hide into the ocean because I am with Luke and also because it would’ve been pointless. And throwing her into the nearest dumpster wouldn’t have made the situation better.”, you tell him, trying to reason with him.

“No, but at least it would’ve shut her up.”, he says under his breath, and you hear Luke snort under his breath, making you glare at him.

“Now that you know that I am not dating Clarisse, are we alright?”, you ask him, feeling a bit scared at the reaction of your brother.

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, even if I do say I don’t want you to date him you will go and hide with him to do some weird couple things.”, he says, looking slightly disgusted at the idea, making you roll your eyes.

“You like Luke, you told me yourself.”, you tell him, and Luke tries to smile widely at Percy, but your brother doesn’t seem impressed by it.

“I did, until I found him with his tongue down your throat.”, the words make the three of you cringe and you shake your head.

“Percy, please.”, you try to look at him with pleading eyes and after a moment your brother let’s out a sigh.

“Fine. But if you hurt her, I will make sure that you drown in this lake and that no one can ever find your body. Is that clear?”, Percy says, and Luke seems scared for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Completely, I promise I won’t hurt her.”, he says and Percy nods slowly.

“Good, now let’s go back to sleep. In your own cabin.”, the young boy says while glaring at the Hermes boys making you laugh softly.

“Yes dad.”, you say teasingly before following your brother and leaving a still scared Luke behind.

“I’ll see you later!”, you whisper to him, and he manages to send you a wink before you have to turn towards your cabin.

[inkdrinkerworld]

i love your writing so much, thank you for everything <3 (especially for post!prison spencer and sunshine!reader!!!) i was thinking about spencer and r are hanging out. still, no one from the team knows yet. she saved his contact as “cutie pie” or some other pet name (and maybe even he doesn't know it yet), and he calls, but someone from the team picks up her cell phone before she does and answers like “uuuuh who are you, 'cutie pie?'” and the spencer was "what???? who's cutie pie???"

Spencer’s at home sick. He’d come over before his fever set in and he’d been delirious by the time he crawled into your bed. 

You wanted to stay home too, to take care of him and make him chicken noodle soup that would’ve been too spicy or make him take his medicine- he can be a bit of a baby about the liquid stuff. 

Instead, you had to come to work. 

You left medicine on your bedside, a large glass of water and a couple sleeves of saltines for Spencer. 

At work you’d been texting back and forth when he woke up, giggling and smiling much to Luke and Matt’s confusion. 

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Luke asks and you lock your phone, holding it against your chest. 

“Just someone I’m talking to.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say because just as the words leave you Penelope is in the bullpen and you look up at her like you’ve been caught red handed. 

It’s not that you and Spencer are trying to keep your relationship a secret. It’s that you’ve only just started dating- maybe a month. You know Penelope will feel betrayed for a few minutes before asking for updates. 

“Who is this someone?” She asks and you shrug, not wanting to say too much. 

Your phone pings again and Matt raises his eyebrow- he’s come to be like a protective brother to you. 

“Is it serious?” He asks, watching you bite your lip to hide your smile. 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” 

Penelope squeals, your phone rings. You freeze for a moment when your phone announces, “Baby.” 

She lunges before you do, snatching your phone from your hands and then answering. 

“Who are you, ‘baby’?” Penelope says and you bite your lip, hoping Spencer is at least a bit coherent. 

“Put it on speaker, Garcia.” Luke says and you shriek, apologies already circling your head for Spencer. 

Penelope does as asked, and repeats her question. “Well mystery Baby, who are you?”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse and confused as he repeats, “Who’s baby? Penelope is that you? Where’s Y/n?” 

The entire bullpen goes quiet, a crippling sort of silence that is longing to be shattered. It goes unshattered and stretches till the tension makes the room taut. 

“I’m here, I’ll call you back Spence.” You say quickly, body hot as you rush to hang up. 

“So, the boy genius huh?” Penelope says, a chuckle breaking through your group. 

“I knew it!” Matt said, opening his hand as Luke fishes out his wallet. 

“What did you know, Simmons?” You ask, watching Luke place what looks to be a couple hundred dollars in Matt’s hand. 

“That you and the good doctor were seeing each other.” He says like it’s no big deal. “I knew it from the second day when you guys started doing your crosswords together.” 

You blow a raspberry, not even you knew you were going to end up with Spencer. 

“Rossi’s going to love this gos!” Penelope says, rushing out with a wave of her arm. 

“We are happy for you, you’re cute together.” Luke compliments, laughing when you hide behind your hands. 

When the drama dies down you text Spencer, I think everyone is now aware that we’re together. Oops 

Spencer texts back, more coherent than you’d thought he’d be given the temperature of his fever: That’s not so bad. At least now I can kiss you between the crosswords. 

You roll your eyes, You already do that, genius. 

Spencer’s response has you a mess of emotions. So, baby huh? I didn’t think you’d be fond of that one. 

Go take your medicine and get some rest, Spencer.

[bamboozledbird]

oᥒᥴᥱ ι'm ყoᥙrs ι'm ᥲᥣᥕᥲყs ყoᥙrs //stiles stilinski imagine characters: stiles stilinski, fem!reader, mentioned malia tate pairing(s): stiles x you word count: 4k tags: exes to ???, hurt some comfort, set in s5 warnings: some light emotional cheating, i think that's it, sad boy hours, *pats stiles’s head* this boy can fit so much trauma in here

a/n: long time no see. i've missed you my babies, and thank you so much for all the love while i was gone. i'm back with my usual overdose of angst and em dashes. i can't help it; i have a sickness. also, the timing of when stiles and malia got together is a little fudged, so they probably started dating in 4b.

It’s an icy slice of fear that wakes you up. A white flash of ‘fight or flight’ behind your sleep-sticky lids. A rattling that doesn’t belong to the pitter-patter of sleet or the whiplash of wind against your bedroom window. You sit up on your forearm, peek out from behind your fleece blanket, and pray until you’re nauseous that there isn’t a pair of glowing eyes waiting for you on the other side of the glass. 

The sleet leaves angry rivulets in the dirt-smudged panes. Sad little lines of streaming water, flooding in time with the choppy squall—you can’t help but think it looks like weeping.

A soft sigh falls from your mouth and stirs the stilted air in the room: No skulking eyes…but a foreboding sense of unease still looms above your head like the plumes of steely clouds outside your window. They swallow every trace of starlight and shift every so often in your peripheral vision, almost like they’re alive.  

The rattling sounds again, soft but deafening in the darkness. It’s a familiar sound, someone scrambling on the loose tiling of your roof, but a forgotten one. It's strange, sweet-sharp, and out of place in your current reality.

A noise that shouldn’t exist outside of a memory. 

Stiles spills into your room and lands on his knees, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. His hair is plastered to his forehead from the storm outside, and the dark clouds are a mocking reflection of the look on his face. 

The moon has eclipsed all the sunlight in his eyes, and it feels so, so cold.

For a moment, you think you’re dreaming, or maybe you’re still stuck in that luminescent oil slick spill between sleep and consciousness. Stiles looks like something from a dream—from a nightmare. He’s a boy, but he isn’t. He’s there, but he isn’t. He’s lost to something you can’t see, swept up in the storm and turned into something else.

The glow of your phone illuminates the pinch of your brow, the squint of your bleary eyes. 3:27 am. Stiles used to sneak in through your window a couple times a week, even during the day, just to avoid the parental inquisition. He still does sometimes, rarely, only when Beacon Hills is on the verge of collapsing—and it always seems to be 3 in the morning. 

He only ever needs you at 3 in the morning now. 

It makes you feel a little sick, the reminder that the only string tying you together now is barbed wire.  

You sit up in your bed and wait for Stiles to say something—to move—but he doesn’t. He just sits there, soaked to the bone on his knees, and stares at something beyond the shifting shadows on your bedroom walls. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even make a sound. 

You crawl out of your bed and sit down on the floor next to him, draping a woven blanket over his shoulders. It almost matches his flannel, blue and checkered. It’s a little thing that would’ve made you smile before, mostly because Stiles would get this warm look in his eyes when you did: so fond it felt like worship. 

It’s fall. The air smells like apples and earth. You watch the shadows of little fish swim in jagged circles through murky lake water. Stiles is a warm presence against your side. 

He buries his nose in your hair and hums, “You like the pieces.”

A fish breaks from the group and bubbles near the surface. Its silver scales gleam in the setting sun: a piece of a fractured landscape, a detail that steals all the color in your peripheral vision. 

You watch the fish swirl for a moment, almost like it’s dancing, and then shrug with a little grin. “I guess.”

You feel Stiles smile against your temple.

“Me too.”

Now, the only color your retinas can detect is black. 

Stiles’s pupils swallow his face, and they stick to everything like tar. Seep into the room and stain the moonlight until the blue haze over his skin looks more sickly than luminous. He looks alarmingly corpse-like, so still on your floor, slimy from the storm keening outside—hollowed out from the storm rotting inside. 

You sigh after a moment; a soft little sound to break the surface of strained silence coating the room. “Come on.”

It doesn’t take much prodding. Stiles bends to your guiding hands mindlessly and sits down on the edge of your bed without so much as a grunt. Pliant and robotic in the same breath. Ever the paradox, your boy is.

Though. 

He’s not, really. Yours, that is. 

Not anymore. 

Not for a long time. 

“Everything’s so fucked up.” 

Stiles is quiet, but his whisper still startles you. His voice is raw—and maybe, you’d really convinced yourself that he was dead. It feels like he is sometimes. At least, a version of him. Stiles, in the mole-speckled flesh, he’s a ghost of the boy you knew, a killer of the figment boy you never lost. A paradox. So difficult to read. Impossible to hold on to. 

Stiles doesn’t notice that you’ve gone silent, but he doesn’t really seem to notice anything beyond the wet film over his eyes. 

“I don’t…I don’t see a way out this time. I don’t know…” he scrubs a hand over his face and looks infinitely older than eighteen, “I don’t think I can fix it—any of it.”

You’re reminded, briefly, of the night he broke up with you. When you looked up, saw the look on his face, and you knew. You have the same sick feeling in your stomach now, and you want to crawl inside yourself until the flip-flopping of your intestines stops—to wring them into little knots until there’s nothing left. 

Stiles looks like he feels about the same, so small on your bed for such a lanky man. 

“What?” You pull your knees to your chest and hold onto your shins so that you don’t reach for him. “The Nemeton? We’ll find it again…eventually, and—”

“No,” Stiles grits his teeth and closes his eyes, “I mean, yes, but it’s…everything. Everything’s falling apart.” 

“Not everything. You’ve always got—”

“Not anymore.” Stiles gets that dead-inside look behind his eyes again, and your stomach turns. “You and me…and Scott—”

Your sheets whisper against your legs as you shift towards him. “Scott?”

You’ve seen Stiles wear pretty much every expression under the sun—backlit by shitty diner lights, laughing; tangled up in navy sheets, panting; drenched in sweat, sobbing—but god. The way Stiles looks now, like his soul has been bleached from his bones, drained from his eyes with a power drill, it’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen. Worse than the when the Nogitsune stole his face, because it’s Stiles. Whatever this skeleton on strings is, it’s him.  

“I fucked up.” Stiles whispers so softly you can barely hear him over the cracks in his voice, “I fucked up so bad.”

It takes you a second to realize that he’s talking about Scott. Dumb, considering you asked, but you’ve imagined him saying that to you so many times it almost feels like a memory—like he’s talking about you. 

You clear your throat and pull at a loose string on your blanket until it snaps. “He’ll get over it. He always does.”

Stiles just shakes his head, keeps his eyes trained on his muddy sneakers. “Not this time.”

Your fingers twitch with the impulse to grab his hand. “What happened, Stiles?”

“I…” Stiles rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the taste of his thoughts. He swallows and then stands, tugging a little on his wet hair until it sticks up in random tufts—it would be cute under any other circumstances, if Stiles didn’t have a disturbingly manic look in his eyes and a desperate tumble of words flooding from his split lip. “The ends justify the means was just a thought experiment, right? Machiavelli was an academic, not a soldier—you know what kind of people actually practice Machiavellianism? Stalin, Mao—Peter ‘fuckin’ killed my own niece’ Hale.”

Your brow scrunches as you try to find the invisible path connecting all his seemingly disjointed thoughts. “Stiles—”

“And I know I rag on Scott all the time for being too soft,” Stiles sneakers squeak against the floor as he continues pacing, without a breath or so much as a glance in your direction. He might as well be pontificating to the darkness. “I mean, fuck, how many times have I said it’d be easier if we just killed the psycho? A dozen? Definitely enough for one of those stupid fuckin’ ‘take a shot’ memes.”

Stiles stops abruptly mid-step and finally looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time tonight. His Bambi eyes look so big right now, completely open and boundless on his sweet face, like the child he hasn’t been since sophomore year. “I didn’t…I don’t really mean it, you know. I don’t actually want...” 

His voice is so small it breaks your heart.  

“I know,” you say softly, coaxing him to stay here with you, in the moment.

Stiles blinks at you slowly and hangs his gaze on your face like it’s the moon. “I know it would kill him…feeling like this.” He spits it out like ‘this’ is something vile, poison on his tongue.  

Your stomach sinks, and a prickling sensation of hot-cold settles through your sinew. You lick your drying lower lip and methodically rub your clammy palms up and down your thighs. “Feeling like what?”

Stiles’s momentary dip into the present fades with the next blink of his clumped lashes. 

He starts pacing again, bending and flexing his fingers with twitching gestures that clarify little and worry you greatly. “I get it, totally support it as a concept. I mean, the greater good outweighs a scumbag or two—conceptually, because how do you really define scumbag? And that’s if you use a qualifier; real consequentialists think it’s totally fine to kill whoever the fuck you want as long as it’s in the name of a good outcome.” 

You blink a few times and drag your tongue over your teeth, “Right…killing innocent people: bad. That’s the general consensus.”

Stiles’s eyes dart back to your face. “What if they aren’t?”

“Aren’t what?” 

Maybe, if it weren’t almost four in the morning, you’d be able to follow his tangential breakdown. Maybe, if you hadn’t become dependent on his quiet sleep-babbling to fall asleep at night, if he hadn’t become the only thing capable of bleaching the nightmares from your eyelids, your temples wouldn’t be throbbing so violently. But it is almost 4 am, and you haven’t fallen asleep next to Stiles in over a year—no matter how right he looks when he sits down next to you on your bed.

Stiles’s throat bobs with his swallow before he says, “What if they aren’t innocent?”

“Stiles,” you grab one of his hands and search his face, scan every solemn line and curve for some semblance of meaning, “what’s going on?”

Stiles chews on his bottom lip and lets out a ragged breath, going stiff—bracing himself for the fallout. His voice is thick with fear when he finally whispers, “What if someone was going to hurt someone you cared about?”

You let out a heavy sigh and study his expression, eyes flickering across the unrelenting question written in his pinched forehead and glassy eyes. “Do the ends justify the means?” 

Stiles nods and bites down on his jagged thumbnail, “Yeah.”

You hold Stiles’s gaze so that he can see your eyes, so earnest they almost look pained, and nod, slow and definitive. “Yeah.”

It takes a second, but when his body catches up with his brain, Stiles collapses in on himself. Turns into a ragdoll of relief and wet clothes, and drops his head into his shaking hands. 

“F-fuck,” Stiles exhales and wipes his face dry with cruel scrubs of his hands. “Sorry—I just…” he digs his thumbs into his temples and trembles, “I’m losing my fucking mind, and I didn’t know where else to go.” He glances up from his hands, looks so devastatingly lovely as he peers up at you through his wet lashes it hurts, and murmurs, “There wasn’t anywhere else…anyone else. Nobody…” 

Stiles shakes his head slightly and clears his throat, but his words are still syrupy with so much meaning when he says, “I don’t really feel like I’m…me anywhere else.” He pauses again, and you forget how to breathe when his gaze refocuses on your eyes. His tongue flicks over his split lip, and then he whispers, “I’m not me unless I’m with you.”

This boy. This boy. He can wreck you without even trying. 

You have to reorient yourself before you get stuck on the drizzle of honey in Stiles’s eyes. They’ve always been so…alive. There’s an entire ecosystem in his irises, savanna grass swaying under the glow of sunset. A blackhole in his pupils, bending and distorting your every thought to Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.  Stop. Breathe. Count your fingers. 

Your arms are around your shins, the air is cold, and Stiles has someone who isn't you.

You still wake up with the taste of him sticking to your teeth, sweet honey and sharp cloves, but it’s never enough. Lately, it lingers like a cavity.  

You spent so long thinking you weren’t supposed to be friends, and you weren’t. You were supposed to be together—now you don’t know what you’re supposed to be. How can you belong to a memory?

What does Stiles think when he looks at you now? Does a thought even come? 

Does he ache for who you were that Friday at the lake? Does he still love that girl in his arms–orange and warm under the setting sun, blissfully unaware of the end? 

Oh, he does. Stiles aches for you, thinks of you, constantly. He meant what he said; he only feels solid when it's just you, him, and the shiny little bubble that keeps out the rest of the world. He doesn’t feel…real when he’s around other people, pretending like everything’s fine. Like he hasn’t lost every shiny piece of the life he had before his mind was stolen. 

That’s how it is for Stiles now; there’s before, and then there’s after. He can feel the schism widening with every single fucked up thing he does. Lately, it feels like that’s the only thing he does: completely and catastrophically fuck up. 

The thing is, when they finally got him—it—out, Stiles thought that would be it. Happily ever after. Evil expunged. Demon defeated. End-stop. No page turn. Cheers to the Nemeton. Stiles learned, very quickly, that you can’t purge darkness. It always leaves a mark. 

The days after…everything, Stiles discovered that rotting was a real human emotion. He still can’t believe people don’t smell it on him. The remnants of Stiles haven’t stopped putrefying in the Nogistune’s absence, and he just knows, somehow, that something this malignantly alive is contagious. He didn’t want to ruin you—doesn’t, Stiles corrects himself before he can finish the thought—doesn’t want to contaminate something so good with something so sick. 

Or maybe…maybe it was because Stiles knew that you’d see it. You’d see it, and you’d leave. 

The only clean thing he has is memories. He can’t stain the past. The figment girl in his mind can’t hurt. Can’t die. Can’t run. Stiles keeps you there—or, at least, some version of you, a you he can keep underneath the shelter of his ribcage, where you can watch the sunset turn fish scales into topaz in his maroon jacket, happy, forever.

Stiles can’t really remember the last time he saw you, the real version of you, happy. You must have laughed without him at some point, but he can’t think of anything other than when you were with him. Well, that, and the end. Stiles remembers the end with painful clarity. 

You were at a lake. The lake. Somehow, it only occurs to Stiles now how shitty that must’ve been for you. Anyway, you just sat there for a while, and he just listened to the silence wash over the world like a flood until the sun reached its peak. He remembers thinking: Holy fuck, this is what they meant. All those stupid songs and poems. This is what it means to break. Stiles couldn’t stand the way you kept your eyes closed, like you were afraid of seeing the inevitable car crash. If I kiss her, he’d thought, everything will be okay. If I kiss her, she’ll forgive me. 

Stiles didn’t kiss you. He just said, “I’m sorry,” and the words hung heavily over your heads. In the harrowing quiet, Stiles thought: I never realized cordial could sound so much like cowardly. 

“What are you doing here, Stiles? What is this?” 

Your voice drags Stiles from the gutters of his mind, and feels a fresh wave of shame when he hears how tired you sound. What is he doing here? Stiles knew it was a mistake before he even started his Jeep, but the flicker of doubt in Scott’s eyes drowned out his best intentions. 

“I just…” Stiles swallows, and his hand moves to scratch at his wounded shoulder reflexively. He…he just needed to be with the only person on the face of this planet that still knew him—who would get it.

You get tired of waiting, and when you speak again, Stiles feels about two inches tall. 

“You should be with her.” You say it nicely enough. Polite. No venom to fill the awkward hollowness. Cordial. 

Fuck. Stiles fucking hates cordial. He kind of wishes you would yell at him. At least, then, he’d know that you still cared. 

Stiles clasps his hands together between his thighs and leans his weight onto his elbows. He probably should be with Malia. No. He definitely should, but he’s not. And right now, like this, he doesn’t want to be. 

“She’s not good at…” Stiles clears his throat and sits up a little, “she tries, but she just…can’t.”

It’s not even her fault, and that’s probably the worst part about it. He doesn’t want to be another bad thing that’s happened to Malia Tate, but bad things just seem to be his specialty lately. 

“You know why you like her, right?” you say softly, not unkindly, but Stiles thinks he isn’t going to like the answer—mostly, because he’s sure it’s true. 

“No.” Stiles pauses and draws a circle on his knee with his pointer finger, “Well, I mean, yeah. Didn’t know you put so much thought into it.”

You don’t bother to dignify such a blatant lie with a direct response. That’s fair, Stiles thinks, and tries not to shrink in on himself.

Instead, you lift your shoulder like it’s made of marble and murmur, “She needs you.”

It’s innocuous enough—sweet, even, under different circumstances—but Stiles feels it like a blade. He clears his throat; it doesn’t help the dryness. He manages to arch a brow as he pushes out a raspy little, “So?”

The corner of your mouth lifts into a small smile; Stiles can still see it quiver. “You’re a control freak,” you bump his knee with your own, and it’s the first place on his body Stiles can actually feel, “and you and I both know she’s never going to be the one to end it.”

That was just like you; even your jokes are wrapped up inside an argument. It always left him frozen in a maddening power struggle between quipping something snarky and kissing you. No one else has ever managed to keep him on the ropes like you, and maybe that’s why no one after has managed to keep his, admittedly, short-attention span for long. After all, Stiles has always liked his sweetness with a little bite. 

Of course, now there’s no sweetness between the two of you. It’s all uncomfortable silences and unspoken thoughts that leave his teeth aching for something more

Stiles’s jaw goes tight as he brings his lips to his knuckles, feeling a bit like bearing down on the bone. “That’s what you think happened?” He glances at you, eyes a little haunted, “I couldn’t control you, so I ended it?”

You tilt your head to the side, so sympathetic it makes Stiles a little nauseous as you murmur, “I think you realized that I didn’t need you; I think it scared the hell out of you.” You say it so softly, and it impales him the heart, right through the fucking center. 

It would be one thing if you were angry; people say stupid shit they don’t actually mean when they’re angry all the time—but this? You look like you mean it. You look like you mean it, and you’re saying it for his own good. The look on your face, it looks a whole lot like the truth 

And.

Maybe it is. 

It’s not like you’re wrong. Stiles remembers thinking it, more than once. He remembers more than a few mornings where he woke up to the sound of your breathing, your warm breath washing over his neck, and he thought he’d probably die if you ever stopped. It felt like an epiphany every time, the reminder that without you his world would be irreparably changed. 

Dark. Without you, Stiles’s world would go dark. 

Maybe, the Nogistune was just an excuse. Maybe, Stiles had been leapfrogging over his heart for a long time before then. Avoiding the future. Wrapping the present around your body and constantly thinking: I can’t believe it's not over yet. 

Yet. Yet. Yet. 

Maybe, Stiles thought about it so much he tempted fate. Maybe, that’s why the Nogistune chose him. Maybe, he should stop scapegoating the devil. He did end up with Malia after all. 

It’s different with her. Not bad necessarily, just different. He takes care of her, and he’s good at that. Making the plan. Having the answers. 

Being in control. 

With you…that was different. 

Stiles is a cynic at heart, but when he looked at—looks at—you, he felt less lonely. When he was with you, he kind of got why his dad used to always show up to work 15 minutes late because he got distracted by the way his mom made coffee. The simple domesticity, the comfort of a morning routine for the rest of his life, the concept of tried and true blue love: Stiles got it all when he saw you.  

You saw his happiness, and you gave it back to him. Every single time. That kind of love…it’s become abundantly clear to Stiles that kind of love is hard to find. Like maybe, once in a lifetime hard to find. 

Stiles swallows hard and shakes his head. “Whatever it was that I was afraid of,” his voice drops to a whisper, “this is so much worse.”

You’re still the only person he can really cry in front of. Stiles is reminded of that when his eyes burn and something wet drips onto his lips. He sniffles quietly, feeling so incredibly small when he realizes the sound is coming from him. 

Stiles can’t look up from his shoes—won’t—and then you speak. You’re so quiet he almost misses it. 

“Life’s a lot better when you’re in it.”

The corners of Stiles’s mouth twitch into a small smile. The first one in about a week. Feels like much, much longer. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[theemporium]

Slay 🙇‍♀️ my original request was for a “The fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me” dirty flirtini with jack 🩷🍸

thank you for requesting!🫶���

23. “The fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me.” 

.

“You don’t actually prefer Trevor as your beer pong partner, do you?”

Your brows furrowed together as your brain fought through the sleepiness to process the fact Jack had spoken to you. You were half asleep, cheek pressed against the cool pillow beneath you after a long day out in the sun tiring you out. You were seconds away from falling asleep, hardly aware of the fact your boyfriend was wide awake and restless beside you.

“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes still closed and your body barely fighting the urge to stay awake. 

“Like, I would always be your number one choice, right?” Jack continued, rolling over so he was now facing you. 

You let out a sigh. “What are you talking about, Jack?” 

“And, like, if you had to choose someone to be stuck on an island with, it wouldn’t actually be Cole over me, right?” He asked, nibbling on his lower lip as he waited for your answer. “Because I think I could easily light a fire from scratch better than he could. And I reckon I could fish with a spear if I tried.” 

You blinked your eyes open. “Baby, you’re using way too many words for me to understand right now.” 

There was a pause before Jack leaned over, flicking the lamp on and watching your face screw up at the sudden intrusion of light. You whined, shoving your face back into the pillow but Jack remained unfazed. 

“I just wanna know if you’d pick me,” Jack told you, shrugging his shoulders a little.

“Is this about the ‘would you rather’ game?” You asked, the pieces slowly starting to click together as the memory of the group around the firepit a few hours ago flashed in your mind. “Babe, you weren’t even an option in any of those questions.”

“I know that,” Jack sassed before sighing. “But I would always be your number one, right?” 

“Of course,” your eyes softened a little. “It was just a game, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “And if you had to be stuck in a horror movie with someone—”

“Oh no, then it’s definitely Quinn,” you said with a straight face, nodding your head. “At least he wouldn’t keep me awake by asking pointless questions.” 

Jack rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. “You know,” he started. “The fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me.” 

“My needy, needy boy,” you murmured with something fond in your voice before you reached for him, hand on the back of his neck to pull him down so you could press your lips against his.

“Hm, yeah, like that,” Jack smiled against your lips.

You huffed out a laugh, falling back against your pillow. “Can we please go to sleep now?” 

The boy didn’t even argue, settling down with his body sprawled over yours with his head resting on your chest. 

.

[steddielations]

“Evening, sir.”

It’s the Harrington boy. Again.

“I told you, son, it’s Wayne,” he manages a smile, harder to do these days, like chipping it out of cement and dusting it off. But he gets it done.

Steve doesn’t have the Henderson boy with him today, that’s a first.

“Where’s the curly one?” He steps aside, letting Steve into the trailer door, more rickety than before. No money left to fix it after repairing the bulk of the earthquake damage.

“Dustin? He doesn’t wanna watch the game, and trust me, you don’t wanna listen to that kid complaining the whole time,” Steve walks by, sorta chuckling to himself, “I always miss the replay ‘cause he makes me change the channel to those D&D cartoons during the commercials, just like—”

He stops in front of the couch, looking over his shoulder at Wayne like he’s afraid he messed up somehow. Wayne noticed that look often from him, less and less, but still often. All that confidence he carries can drop on a dime, sorta reminded him of—

“Like Ed?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind talking about him if you want,” Wayne manages another concrete smile, but he means it. Steve always waits for him to bring up Eddie first, like he doesn’t want to remind him if it ain’t on his mind, but Wayne likes to be reminded. It’s nice to feel like he’s not the only one missing him. “But the game was yesterday and y’know the cable’s out.”

“Yep, got it covered. I uh, I taped it,” Steve fishes a VHS tape from his back pocket. Fancy. Wayne would worry about him using that for his sake, but he has a feeling Steve’s folks aren’t around enough to notice.

“The Colts win?”

Steve flips the tape around, “Haven’t watched it, so we can bet on it if you’re feeling lucky.”

It doesn’t feel so dry and heavy when Wayne laughs a bit then, waving Steve to go ahead and start up the TV. He already caught the game on the radio, but he bets on the Colts anyway. Loser’s supposed to do the dishes after they scrounge together some soup, but Steve does them anyway.

Wayne would make a stink about it but he can tell Steve just wants to help, to feel like he’s helping. Same thing when the Henderson boy comes around to see him, wanting to hear all the stories, even the scary ones. So Wayne doesn’t mind letting Eddie’s friends feel like they’re helping him.

His nephew didn’t have many friends. Real, cover-your-six kinda friends. The boys he played his music with, they’ve come by a couple times, Wayne always liked Jeff despite the racket. That older fella that’s doing time now, Wayne wasn’t too fond of. And some of Eddie’s dungeon buddies he talked about were the only few.

Now, casual acquaintances? Anybody who didn’t have anywhere else to sit when he had an empty spot at his table? Sure, Eddie had those in spades.

His boy was good at that, putting on a good old show for his crowd, on a stage to keep his distance. That damn Al did him in good, never could trust easily, having his old man pop up and drag him into his mess before he took off again. And Eddie’s poor momma would’ve done right by him, if she hadn’t gotten sick so young.

Took Wayne a long time to get Eddie to depend on him, to trust this was his place to stay and he didn’t have to earn it, Wayne wasn’t just filling his head to scheme something out of him.

Love ain’t a transaction that way. He wasn’t ever any good at saying it, but he tried to show Eddie the best he could.

His boy though, always carried a debt with him. Like he owed Wayne something for taking him in, had to graduate quick and make it outta here, do something with the better life he gave him. Al dug him in so deep, Eddie stayed roped into whatever his latest scheme was (the cars, the dealing, the gambling, thank God Eddie wasn’t there when the goddamn robbery went wrong, 25 to life) like maybe it’d be enough to keep him from running off again.

The odds have never been in favor of people like them, poor folk in a town that’s stuck in its ways, where everybody’s just like their old man, but Al made his choices and Wayne made his. Rest their mother’s soul, she did her best. Part of Wayne was relieved when Al got locked up, at least Wayne had a better chance of keeping Eddie from going down the same path, try to raise him right.

Being a Munson wasn’t a crime. He didn’t owe a darn thing to anybody. Eddie could graduate at his own pace, play whatever games and music he wanted, dress however, that didn’t mean he was up to no good. And a lot of boys get into dealing for a little easy extra money around here, he was gonna grow out of that just like Wayne did.

It worked until all this mess.

That’s why Eddie ran off after what happened to the poor Cunningham girl. He gets spooked when something goes wrong, like it’ll be the last straw he can’t make up for so he runs off. Like the first time he didn’t make senior year, went and hid out with that Rick fella that Wayne never did like, got Eddie deep into that business he tried to keep a secret.

‘Course Wayne knew. He knows exactly what and where his boy hides. If those damn cops weren’t tailing him, he would’ve gone straight to get him.

That was before he knew it would turn into all of this. Now he wishes he would’ve done it anyway. Gone right to Eddie, told him it wasn’t his fault that everything got all turned upside down. Told him he knew he was innocent right from the get-go, and got him away from this rotten old town.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t go get his boy.

So now he’s just trying to be there for Eddie’s boys, since he can’t.

“You have a night shift tonight right? Gonna put on a pot of coffee,” Steve says once he’s finished up the dishes.

Wayne hums. There’s usually more noise going on during these visits. Steve’s still alright at carrying on, even without the Henderson boy’s chatter to fill any gaps.

It was strange, the first time the two of them showed up. Wayne knew Eddie was close with Dustin, but he didn’t have a clue that he was chumming it up with the Harrington boy. Just don’t seem like the same type of company. He might not believe it if it weren’t so obvious that Steve cared about his boy. He suspected before, but now with Steve showing up here alone, he knows.

Steve misses Eddie in a different sorta way than Dustin.

“No cream or sugar, right?” Steve looks humored by that as he passes the mug of black coffee to him, “How are you related to Eddie again?”

Wayne’s mouth turns upward, remembering his nephew’s god awful sweet tooth. He picked up a box of Honeycombs the other day in the store out of habit. “Just happened to be standin’ there when they beamed him down.”

That gets a good chuckle out of Steve. Nothing wistful weighing it down and Wayne’s glad, watching Steve pour himself a cup of coffee too.

Then bitter-sweetness swirls in his chest, seeing the mug that Steve chose for himself. Must’ve dug it out from one of the boxes Wayne hadn’t hung back on the walls yet. The earthquake did a number on his collection. That Garfield one was the only one he’d gotten around to gluing back together.

“What is it?” Steve asks, cup paused at his mouth.

“Ah nothin’ just,” Wayne waves it off, “That’s the mug Ed always used.”

“Oh, I can use a diff—”

“Nah, nah go ‘head. It’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Steve takes a wary sip.

Mostly these days, Wayne just feels like a watch without a ticker, a chest with nothing beating inside it. He can’t name the feeling he has at seeing Eddie’s old mug being used by someone else, but at least it’s something.

“Y’know, he used to put everything in that sucker. Soda pop, soup, cereal, you name it,” Wayne shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile, “I’d have to wrestle it away from him just to give it a good washing. It’s well loved, alright. Leaks now.”

As if on cue, Steve has to grab a napkin to sit underneath it.

Wayne lets out an amused hum, “He uh— Didn’t have much stability ‘fore he came to live with me, so he’d get real attached to things like that.”

Carried around a stuffed dragon they picked up at a garage sale ‘til Wayne couldn’t sew the wings back on anymore. Never wanted to throw anything away. Got real anxious about Wayne going to work sometimes, even when he was too old for a sitter. Held onto him saying “Stay home just today, Dad, please.” Which, he didn’t mind Eddie calling him that. It always softened him up, made him give in. Wishes now that he’d told Eddie upfront. Maybe he never would’ve stopped.

“Thought for sure he’d marry that damn guitar one day.”

Steve nearly sputters his coffee, laughing at that, “Yeah, those two are made for each other.”

It’s nice, seeing the way that story lit Steve up. Sorta like his boy can still make someone happy. Hurts like hell that he ain’t here to do it himself, but Wayne was always good at telling stories. That’s where Eddie learned it from.

“I’m uh,” Steve deflates after a minute, looking down at the mug, “God, I’m just really sorry, Wayne.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, Steve,” he says, because, well.

Wayne gets the feeling that his boy was Steve’s boy too.

Read the rest on Ao3

[xornoth-of-rivendell]

Hello!

Um. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to go about this, but- I’m The Codfather, the leader of the Codlands.

Prince Scott, spoke with me recently about maybe forming some trade agreements with Rivendell? We don’t have much, but if you’re in need of slime or cheaper wood then we could happily supply. Truly… I’d do anything in my power to help my people. Whatever you need that I can get consider it done.

Thank you for your consideration your majesty.

Is that the right phrase?

-@jimmy-thecodfather

..of the codlands? aren’t you in war? i can speak for my entire council in saying rivendell does not want to be involved in your conflicts; whatever they are.

(what was he trying to do, tangling us with this mess of an empire..)

either way, i suppose it’s a pleasure to meet you. it’s sovereign xornoth, if you need a name. if you can assure rivendell’s neutrality in your fish war- which i doubt; then we can discuss trade. we aren’t in any particular need of slime, but i suppose wood could be beneficial. i assume you’d just want wool?

..consider your offer, uh, considered.

anything in your power? really? if i was crueler, i could take advantage of that, you know.

[starlightkun]

sugarcoated brain [teaser]

⏯ teaser word count: 723 | full fic: 13.7k ⏯ genre: punk band frontman!shotaro, venue manager!reader, shotaro is whipped, reader is emotionally unavailable, is it a slowish burn or is it angst?, whatever it is ur reading a starlightkun fic so there’s a happy ending :), ft. eunseok/sungchan/wonbin as shotaro’s bandmates welcome back boys & wayv as reader’s coworkers ⏯ warnings: not necessarily a warning but since i do generally avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader works at a punk/alternative concert venue and is generally in/around that scene. reader is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes) ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes, but u don’t need to read that in order to understand this one, filler eps!sungchan and sugarcoated!shotaro r just in the same band! also the title is from a 5sos song lol ⏯ estimated release: saturday, november 16, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

“Is that sanitary?” Eunseok’s voice announced Roses for Eyes’ arrival that particular afternoon, as you sat atop the bar counter, scrolling on your phone in one of your few moments of peace and quiet around Venue:Hell.

“Kiss my ass, Eunseok,” you replied without even looking up.

“Yeah, I’ll get in line,” he retorted, making Sungchan and Wonbin laugh.

That finally prompted you to slide your gaze up, just in time to see the three of them laughing over by the stage as Shotaro flipped them all off over his shoulder, making his way towards you. He had two cups in one hand, one with a bright green straw in it, and the other without a straw, and you saw that the other three band members each had a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of them as well. You silently watched Shotaro approach, raising an eyebrow at him once he’d stopped in front of you.

“We were getting boba on our way here, and thought we’d grab you one, too.” His cheeks were a bright pink as he held the unopened cup out to you, and fished a packaged purple straw out from the front pocket of his black jean jacket.

“Who’s this ‘we’ that you’re talking about?” You asked humorously. “They all apparently think getting me boba is kissing my ass.”

Shotaro straightened up, puffing his chest out. “Actually, yeah. Fuck ‘em. I got you one because I thought it’d be nice to get you one too since you do so much for us every week. It’s uh-It’s honey milk tea, because I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thank you, Shotaro.” You accepted the cup and straw from him graciously, to a chorus of snickers from the spectators on the other side of the floor. “Honey milk tea is more than acceptable.”

“But it’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite.” You set the cup on the bartop beside you to stab the straw into it.

“You—Hey, are those mine?” He seemed to have finally noticed the sunglasses perched atop your head.

“What? These?” You teased, tapping the plastic accessory arm on one side of your head.

“I was looking for those today!”

You took them off, offering them out towards him. “You left them here last week.”

Shotaro took the glasses just to turn them right back around, take a step closer to you, and place them back on your head, a fond smile on his face as he did so. “I think you look better in them, actually. You can hold onto them for a little longer.”

You swallowed, your chest suddenly feeling too tight for your heart, and six eyes suddenly feeling like way too many to be in the room with you two right now. You chuckled, trying to keep up the congenial tone as you once more pulled them off. This time, you folded the arms and tucked the sunglasses into Shotaro’s jacket pocket for him. “Thanks, Shotaro, but I can’t take your sunglasses. They’re really rockstar sunglasses anyway, not for someone like me.”

At that moment, you grabbed your boba tea and hopped off the bar, scooting out from between him and the counter. You avoided looking at the others, beelining for the back office.

When Shotaro had to come get his in-ears from you just a few minutes later, you gave him the same pleasant smile as usual, handing him the case. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tapped the case against his palm, the sound dampened by the fingerless gloves he was wearing that day. “What did you mean? When you said someone like you.”

“Wh—About the sunglasses?” You’d hardly expected him to confront you about that comment at all, much less alone now, just you and him in the office, no peanut gallery. While six eyes had felt like too many, this felt far too intimate. You somehow felt more exposed than before. “Like I said—They’re cool rockstar sunglasses, that’s what you are. You should wear them you know, up on stage, being all cool and stuff. I’m crew; no point in me wearing them while I’m sitting back here where nobody can see them.”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t try to give them to you again. “I think you’re cool, Y/N.”

With that, he left the office.

⤷ masterlist

[armysantiny]

00:19 – Rafayel

P: Rafayel x female reader | G: timestamp, fluff | Inc: MC working herself half to death (as usual), canon-compliant, heading to sleep together, Raf's bed (it's gorgeous have you seen it-), canon-typical Wanderer activities | Wc: 308 | W: none | R: G

Min's notes: Look at me, writing fanfic for games again! I blame infold for putting sm lore into this game and putting three charming men onto my phone. Something short and sweet for my fish boy xx

Rafayel’s brows knit into a frown once he’s sure y/n’s not looking his way, the hunter far too exhausted to stand on her feet. It itches at him, the worry, leaving him questioning whether keeping y/n in his home for a few days to make sure she rests counts as kidnap. Not that he cares much about the consequences, in any case. He can do anything where his y/n is concerned.

“Don’t you think it’s time to sleep, gemstone?” He asks, draping himself over y/n’s shoulders and smiling into the crook of her neck. “I can almost hear the birds singing outside~”

Rafayel doesn’t need to look up to know his darling hunter watches him through exasperated eyes, sleep-ridden but fond of his antics all the same. He can almost hear her next words; the gentle scolding y/n will huff.

 You’re the one who invited me here, Rafayel.

And who’s fault is that again?

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” he says, “when I invited you over to help with inspiration, I happened to forget my selfless girlfriend enjoys working herself half to death every day.”

Y/n scoffs— or at least she tries to, a yawn forcing its way out between her lips.

“There were too many Wanderers today, I didn’t have much time to rest before it kept kicking up again.” She laments, making no effort to stop her boyfriend when he lovingly starts leading her towards the plush comfort of his bedroom. It’s late, his bed is more than inviting, and what could possibly be better than being wrapped up in her Lemurian’s arms?

“Maybe I should try taking the day off tomorrow…” Y/n muses, snuggling her way into Rafayel’s arms.

He hums his approval, “and spend it all with me, please and thank you~”

“I’ll spend my day off tomorrow with you, my love.”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2024-2025

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @okkotsu-simp| Taglist Form

[rorysbrainrot]

Headcanons for Lorenzo Berkshire

• He doesn’t have the best grades, but he does try hard.

• With his mother being Bellatrix. I think her main focus would be on Mattheo, so Lorenzo always shows her what he did better than Mattheo on.

• He is incredibly cocky like the rest of the “Slytherin boys”, since he is a Berkshire, a wealthy pure blood

• He doesn’t really have opinions on Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but the way he grew up around people who weren’t to fond on Gryffindors it wouldn’t be a house he likes. (Same as Theo’s)

• Most of his crushes would probably be Slytherins.

• Slytherin Keeper, joined in 5th year.

• Has a strained relationship with his father, and tries to please his mother even if she’s ashamed of him.

• He likes someone who is sweet and willing to do outgoing activities with him. (Has a really bad corruption thing.)

• Is probably one of the worst out of his group of friends.

• Doesn’t get into fights much, but if he really has something against you, he’ll bully you to know end. (Still is just an asshole.)

• Loves fish, all types.

• Excessive skincare routine, like 30 steps.

• Will flirt with anything that breathes, very flirty. (Very rude.)

• Second best dressed out of everyone he’s friends with, Blaise is first. But, is oddly attracted to people who tend to not go over the top. Like more into comfy than nice.

• Favorite color is definitely light green or grey.

• In 3rd year he secretly has a crush on Fred Weasley because Fred winked at him once while passing him in the halls.

——————x——————x——————x——————x——————x

Lorenzo Berkshire as a boyfriend

• Would be a bit awkward with physical touch at the beginning of the relationship; unless you had something going on before the dating started.

• Boys you anything he sees you glance at, one look in that general direction and he’s in the checkout line.

• Would sneak up behind you and give you small kisses anywhere on your skin, neck, cheek, temple, jaw, etc’.

• If you aren’t a Slytherin would have you sit next to him at his house table anyways, if you are he would walk down with you and serve your food.

• Always invites you to come study with him in the library.

• Calls His partner Sweetheart, Sweetie, honey or love/lovey.

• The second he confirms you both love each other he’s planning your future, house, kids, pets, etc’.

• Stares at you randomly throughout the day.

• Always wants to be holding your hand. (I think he would have somewhat clammy hands, so when you let go he gets whiny.)

• When he gets whiny, be it in class or just hanging out he will want to cuddle you immediately, making sure you won’t leave and holding you in his arms.

• Likes to see you with his coat on, so his favorite month is winter just so he could give it to you.

——————x——————x——————x——————x——————x

His Red Flags 🚩

• Would feel so conflicted if his mother didn’t approve of you.

• He doesn’t like you talking to other guys (or girls).

• Hypocrite, he flirts with other people all the time; when you ask him to stop he says he will, but doesn’t.

• If he doesn’t like your friends will try to get you to stop hanging out with them.

• If you’re a muggle born, he would refuse to learn anything about muggles or lula want to meet your family.

• Hates you having friends that you’re super close to, like if he sees you and your best-friend since 1st year, holding hands or touching each other he would get really jealous.

• Gets jealous so easily.

• Most definitely has clammy hands.

——————x——————x——————x——————x——————x

-I don’t say anything about the characters sexuality, due to the fact I don’t know the gender of my audience.-

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Worlds Collide; Anemo Boys minus Aether x gn!reader

Return to File

Recovery date: September 20th, 2024

Description: ok, fourth time?! I rlly am addicted to ur blog atp ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ so uh this time, maybe the reader and the anemo boys meeting their deceased friends and family? Separately ofc, but maybe not for aether bc I don't rmb him having any deceased friends or family. Thank you, and as always, feel free to delete if this is too angsty for u!! (i think i might come back a lot, so can i be ⭐️ anon? If u allow, ofc!) aaaaaa im so sry i forgot to say that for the anemo boys, i meant that if they're decreased friends and family were still alive what would their relationship be with the reader aaaaaaa in sry😭😭

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. So glad to have you back! I will say it's funny that you were worried it would be too angsty, and I think I made it angstier because bringing the dead back/ making it so they never died would seriously change our character and their stories. So I found other ways for them to meet reader!

Back to directory

Venti

Unfortunately, retroactively reviving the nameless bard would cause a lot of problems

But, Venti likes to think about how your lives might play out if he were here somehow

He thinks you’d get along

You’d love the bard’s lyre playing

If you sing/play an instrument with Venti, he’ll totally write songs for the three of you

Likes to think you’d play pranks on the bard with him, maybe you would, or maybe you’d scold him

If you ever got married the Bard would be his best man

Xiao

Once fell asleep to Cloud Retainer’s dream machine

He “awoke” to thundering laughter and a hand slamming against a table

You were sitting against a tree, his head in your lap, and his fellow yaksha were sat around the nearby table

Bosacius is slamming one of his hands against the table as he’s doubled over laughing

Indarias is laughing too, she’s leaning against Bonanus who’s trying not to spill her wine

Menogias is trying to use one of Cloud Retainers many inventions to grill fish with Pervases

It’s when he starts to sit up that you realize he’s awake

He notices your clothes are different, they must have been made by Menogias

Before he can say anything, he’s called up to play his flute

You join the other Yaksha at the table as he starts to play, and as he closes his eyes he sees many others approaching from the distance

Kazuha

Having settled in Inzauma with you, he finds his sleep to be deeper and more restful

This results in him dreaming more, finally able to indulge in the deep sleep required

On this night, he opens his eyes to find you crouched down with a white cat

It’s his friend's, though he thinks it’s odd it’s not standing guard of his grave

Then his friend speaks from above him, calling you adorable

He looks up to find him lounging in the tree branches

His friend looks down at him and calls him lucky, asking to be invited to the wedding

Before Kazuha can say anything else, his friend jumps down and challenges you to a sparring match

You eagerly agree, declaring the winner Kazuha’s best friend

He sits back to watch, joined by the cat, with a fond smile

Heizou

Heizou dreams of his friend often when the festival where they met rolls around

This year you attended together and left an offering at his friends grave after

Maybe that’s why tonight he doesn’t think this is quite a dream

It feels too real

You lean against him, leaning across him to talk animatedly with his friend

He should feel embarrassed as you swap stories

He should remind you to eat your food that’s growing cold

Instead he places a kiss on the top of your head and turns to his friend

Two can play at this game, he cuts in with an embarrassing story of his own

You’re thrilled, and Heizou finds himself keeping you up right on your stool as you laugh so hard it shakes

He’s glad you got to meet his friend, and he thanks whatever power gave him this chance

Wanderer

It’s a gift from Nahida

When you agree to spend the rest of your life/ forever with him

That night you dream of the furnace, and Niwa and his family

The boy, his first friend, is there as well though he’s grown

Niwa pours you some more tea as you happily discuss your most recent trip together to Sumeru

It all feels so comfortable, Wanderer finds himself slumping against the table

The boy struggles to peel a bulle fruit, and you gently take it from him to help

Niwa elbows him and whispers something about children

He rolls his eyes

The boy sets the bulle fruit in the middle for you all to share

The next morning Wanderer finds his pillow stained with tears

[calypsocolada]

SIX MOMENTS | s. shinazugawa

synopsis: you have six different encounters with a stubborn hashira.

authors note: it's currently 5:47 a.m. and I need god but I need this man more. goodnight.

cw: blood, violence, cussing, fluff, attempted assault (very very minor)

wc: 6.4k

—————————————————

1. meeting

You felt the tightness of nerves in your chest as you walked across the room. Your hair swayed with every step behind you. You blew out a quick breath before sliding next to Sanemi, excited to make a good first impression. Your eyes drifted across the room to land on your sister, Mitsuri, with her pink and green hair easy to spot. She lifted her hands above the crowd to give you two thumbs up. You steeled yourself, swallowing down the bundle of nerves in your stomach.

“Hi, you’re Genya’s older brother right?” Your soft voice asked the man that sat next to you. You’d met Genya by chance a while back, the boy could barely talk to you, his face as red as a rose the entire encounter. 

Although you and this intimidating hashira were around the same age, Sanemi was huge, just all around big. He was a head taller than you, even sitting down. With broad shoulders and sharp features. Sanemi slowly looked down at you, his face uninterested. His body was riddled with scars, criss crossing his face and arms. Your body heated all over. He looked angry that you’d spoken to him. You forced a smile and continued when he didn’t answer. You didn’t know much about the Demon Slayer Corp to be honest, just the little bit that Mitsuri provided. You knew it was highly dangerous though. “I’m Mitsuri’s sister. Aren’t you a Hashira?” Sanemi looked away from you and back to the drink he was nursing.

“Obviously.” He said, his voice gruff and bothered. Your mouth dried up as you bit your lip.

You had seen Sanemi fight and you had almost instantly developed a crush on him. He was a great fighter, took out a demon in mere seconds. He wasn’t aware but the village that he saved from a demon attack just happened to be yours. 

You felt something bursting in your chest at this interaction. You were fumbling, Sanemi didn’t seem interested nor caring at all. 

“The Corp. is lucky to have you as a hashira.” You say, hoping some flattery would soften his edges somehow. Sanemi looks at you with venom in his eyes.

“What would you know about it, girl?” He asks sharply.

“Y/n Kanroji,” You say but he isn’t interested in learning your name it seemed. “I-- I’ve seen you fight. You saved people in my village. You're incredible.” For a second you think you’re sharing a moment. His eyes are intense on yours, your cheeks pinkening under his intense scrutiny. But he looks away, hand tightening on his cup. 

“Go flatter someone else, Kanroji.” He says sharply, turning pointedly away from you. Your body heats in shame. Eyes darting back to your sister who was eagerly watching. It took one look for Mitsuri to understand. You push off your chair. 

“It was-- good to meet you. Thank you for all you do.” You say softly, kindly. When Sanemi turns to say something back to you your already walking away, weaving your way through the crowd. Sanemi turns back to his drink, hiding his blush under his hand.

2. melon soda

It was about a week since the last time you had seen Sanemi. Again it was at another Hashira get together. He was in the same exact spot he’d be in last time. Nursing a drink at the bar whilst the more outgoing hashira kept the party going. 

You had arrived a bit late, Mitsuri at your side. You chatted before breaking off, slipping away to grab drinks while Mitsuri greeted all her fellow Hashira. 

You walked up to the bar, not spotting Sanemi until a moment too late. Your eyes met. You forced a smile, not so fond memories of your last encounter on the forefront of your mind. You decided after that night you’d try one last time to befriend the unfriendly man and if he still didn’t crack, you’d leave him be. There were other fish in the sea. None that made you blush this deeply from a look although. 

“Hi,” You smiled brightly. For a moment Sanemi looked almost startled by your sudden appearance. “Good seeing you again.” You joke, wondering if you’d been too smiley. 

“Is it?” He says gruffly. But he didn’t turn away from you this time, his intense eyes still locked with yours. You were at a loss for words. You had an opening and it was closing faster as the seconds drifted away.

“Of course.” You say simply, voice soft like snow, smile even softer. You thought for a moment you saw something red in his cheeks but Sanemi turned away from you again. Clearly done talking. You sighed as the bartender walked up, looking sourly at you. You gave your best winning smile.

“Hi, could I get two melon sodas?” You asked. The bartender huffed.

“Drinks are reserved for those in the corp, sorry girly.” The man says sharply. Embarrassment floods your system as the man laughed condescendingly. “Guess you can’t read.” He hits the sigh hard enough to make you jump.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you sir.” You apologize profusely. Sanemi had turned at the sound, his eyes catching fire as you quickly made your way back towards your sister. His stomach boiled, eyes like fire. 

“That was rude.” He growls at the bartender. The bartender looks alarmed, he must’ve not noticed Sanemi sitting there. “Two melon sodas. Now.” He commanded roughly. The bartender tripped over himself to get what Sanemi asked for.

“Please, Mitsuri, just leave it be.” You pleaded with your sister. Mitsuri wanted to walk over to that bartender and kick him into next week. You were already embarrassed enough, and just wanted to forget the whole thing and have a good rest of the night. You sink in your chair, blushed and red. Rengoku, who’d been shoveling food into his mouth for the past ten minutes, piped up.

“I can walk over there and get your drinks.” He says as he pushes up from his table. Something slams loudly against the table startling all three. Your startled eyes find two melon sodas on the table, eyes drifting up to from the person's arm that held them and finally to Sanemi’s eyes. Your lips fell open, eyes darting from the cans back up to Sanemi. Mitsuri and Rengoku were both stunned into silence. Sanemi pushed the cans towards you, his eyes intense. Words evaded you, what in the world was happening?

“For you.” He says, pushing them one last time towards you before turning and disappearing through the crowd. Rengoku and Mitsuri both slowly turn to look at you. Slowly you reach down and grab one of the drinks. He’d gotten these for you? Why? You were so sure he despised you… 

“Looks like someone has a secret admirer.” Mitsuri whispers as she takes the other can into her hands and pops open the tab. You blushed all the way down to your toes, turning away from Rengoku and Mitsuri, an excited smile on your lips. 

3. train folly

Jeez, this man is hot and cold. You thought you had it all figured out this time. He’d done something nice for you, sure it was a small thing but it was still kind nonetheless. But here you two were, as silent as can be on a four day train ride. It's been a few months since that last party. You had decided to join the corp and since you weren't much of a fighter you decided to become a field medic.

First assignment?

To accompany Sanemi Shinazugawa on a mission deep in some Forest on the outskirts of a town. You couldn’t have planned it out better yourself. Except Sanemi is more frigid than the first time you’d talked. You were sure you’d broken through, was sure he might’ve tolerated you. But sitting next to him you’d tried starting a conversation three times, finally giving in and now they both had been sitting across from each other in silence for about an hour now. 

“Ah, Ms. Kanroji, there you are.” A voice said, drawing your attention away from the window, which you’d been blankly staring out of. It was Rengoku, your face morphed into a smile, happy to see a friendly face. 

“Kyojuro! What're you doing on this train?” You asked as you stood, throwing yourself in the taller man’s arms. Rengoku smiles warmly, squeezing you fiercely. Sanemi’s attention is drawn to you two, his stomach twisting as he watches Kyojuro hug you. 

“I get off on the next stop, unfortunately, but I thought I saw a glimpse of your hair.” He says, reaching for a strand, twirling it around his finger. Sanemi grunts. 

“New assignment?” Sanemi buts in, eyes sharp. Rengoku shares a look with Sanemi as the former grins slightly before nodding his head, confusing Sanemi. 

“I heard about your guys assignment and just wanted to caution you, if you need any backup please don’t be shy to send your crows.” Rengoku says as you smile brightly up at him. 

“Thank you-“ Suddenly the train comes to a rough stop, throwing you backwards. You brace for impact against the train floor but an arm shoots out, stopping your inevitable descent. When you open your eyes you see Sanemi. His face is no longer indifferent. 

“Careful.” He says in the softest tone you’d ever heard from him and you're almost too stunned to speak so you manage a nod. He helps you back to your feet as Rengoku reaches out and pats Sanemi on the shoulder. 

“Good catch!” He smiles. You didn’t miss it this time, you saw Sanemi’s cheeks blush before he could turn away in time. “Well I better depart, have fun in the mountains you too!” Rengoku says, ruffling your hair before departing off the train. 

Silence filled the compartment as you settled back into your seat. A moment passed as you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to speak, knowing you’d probably be ignored, but you had to say something.

“Thank you.” You say quietly. Sanemi nods his head. 

“You’re welcome.” He says but he doesn’t look at you. Something rushes through you at the sentence. You cover a smile with your hand and settle back down in your chair.

4. picking flowers

When the train pulled to a stop, you made sure you were seated this time. Sanemi was the first to stand, he gathered up his things as you followed, struggling with your heavier bags. You tossed one around your shoulder and immediately the weight of it almost sent you to the floor. But just like before, Sanemi stopped the fall with one arm around your hip. You blushed all over, embarrassed again. 

“I promise I’m not doing this on purpose.” you admit, your cheeks as red as a sunburn. Sanemi helps you right herself and without a word, pulls the heaviest bag from you around his own shoulders, acting as though it weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. He pulls the door open to your shared compartment and holds it open for you to walk through. You both make your way off the train, following in Sanemi’s footsteps but you couldn’t help how you sometimes got swept up in the sights. You’d never been to this forest, nor the town on its outskirts. 

It was grand. The few times you stopped Sanemi hadn’t noticed and you almost lost him. But suddenly they were walking past a giant orchard of the most rare and audacious flowers you’d ever seen. You had to stop, to pick some to bring back for your sister. But you noticed a second too late when the crowd picked up and suddenly you were all alone. You tucked the flowers in your bag when suddenly a sharp hand shot out. 

“Thief, I saw you steal flowers!” A gruff man yelled, spittle hitting your cheeks. You recoiled only to be yanked towards him roughly, the grip on your wrist tight. 

“I--I’m very sorry sir, I have money to--”

“Thought you could slip away unnoticed, hmm?” The man pushed you against the cobblestone wall. But he didn’t exactly have anger in his eyes, they were filled with something far worse. “It’s too late for money, pretty girl, you’ll have to pay with something else.” He whispered and you physically turned in on yourself. You hadn’t been taught how to defend yourself. Mitsuri had tried to teach you but you were sure you didn’t need to learn. Now you felt utterly stupid, desperately wishing your sister were here. 

A large hand grabbed the collar of your assaulter as he was thrown backwards, not pushed or shoved, thrown, tossed like a piece of trash to fly crashing into the dirt several feet away. You hadn’t noticed you were crying, but when you blinked away the tears, clearing your vision it was Sanemi. You’d caused him so much trouble on this trip and it had barely begun. Embarrassed, you parted your lips to speak but was stunned into silence when you were pulled into a tight hug. Sanemi wrapped his arms around you protectively.

“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Sanemi asks, concerned. Your entire body heated and when Sanemi pulled back to survey you, you forced yourself to speak.

“It was my fault, I picked flowers without asking.” You explained but as you said it outloud you realized you were being silly. This man clearly wanted more than honor for some stolen flowers. The man was starting to push himself up from the dirt, mumbling and cursing. 

“She stole them! And I expect-” The force of Sanemi’s glare was enough to shut the man up.

“Leave before I kill you.” Sanemi spoke calmly, but he was fuming, his eyes blazing. It was a scary sight to see. The man tripped over himself to leave, actually tripping a few times in his haste. Sanemi looked back at you, no longer angry. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, eyes downcast. Sanemi reaches around you, snapping a flower off its vine.

“You’re a lot of trouble, you know.” He shocked you by tucking the flower behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. Sentence structure failed you completely. This person touching you so reverently couldn’t be the same person.  

“I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble. Maybe I should call for a different medic.” You surprise yourself with being able to talk so effortlessly even with your heart in your throat. 

“Don’t be silly,” Sanemi waves off. “I’ll just have to keep a better eye on you.” You weren’t sure you could blush any harder than right now, your cheeks stung red. 

Sanemi reaches for you, carefully holding your hand as he turns to pull you along to the station near the forest. He doesn’t drop your hand once. For the first few moments your hand is stiff in his, but soon you give in, nerves steeling over as you grip his hand back. You feel Sanemi stagger a bit and you wonder if you startled him, if he forgot he was dragging you along until your fingers closed around his hand. When they arrive, Sanemi is first to let go of your hand. He opens the door to the station, holding it for you, his cheeks flushed red from the cold. 

You knew the next step. You were to stay here while Sanemi went out into that forest alone. You hated that idea. He’d taken care of you this entire trip, you wanted, no, you needed to repay him back in kind. Sanemi wasn’t talkative as he unburdened himself of the heavy bags. 

“Mr. Shinazugawa?” You ask over the quiet of the station. Sanemi froze at the sound of your voice. It was strange to say his last name but you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with you using his first name. He called you by your last name so you thought you’d do the same. “I-”

“Sanemi.” Sanemi returns, interrupting you. Your lips part as you clear your throat. 

“Sanemi,” You correct, something flashes in his eyes as he finally looks over at you. “Let me come with you.”

“Into a demon infested forest?” He asks and you knows he won’t allow it. 

“Yes, sir, don’t you think it’s dangerous to go alone?” You ask. He shakes his head as an answer. “But-- but what if you’re too hurt to send a crow, or something happens to the crow. If I came with you there wouldn't be any complications.” You say worriedly. Your not sure when you started to care this deeply for the man in front of you, but the idea of him going alone was making you sick to your stomach. Sanemi looked at you closely, you wondered what he saw when he looked at you. If he saw a silly girl pretending to be strong, exactly how you felt on the inside. 

“I’ll be fine.” Sanemi says with a sort of finality. “Do not walk into that forest unless I send for you. Do you understand?” He asks with authority in his voice, he towered over you. Anger tinged through you. You never really let yourself feel anger, knowing sometimes it led to bad outcomes but you couldn’t help feeling it now. Not necessarily angry with him but at the situation.

“I understand.” You said, shoving the anger down. You didn’t want to say something stupid and offend him so you backed down even though it left you feeling even worse. Sanemi watched you for a long moment, watched you unpack your things, watched the flower almost fall out of your hair only for you to fix it quickly each time. 

He recalled seeing you for the first time. How beautiful you looked in the training yard, laughing and smiling with the other girls. The way you threw your head back when you laughed, exposing your throat. The way your eyes squinted. Sanemi hadn’t been able to get over his nerves well enough to make you laugh. He’d tried when he called you trouble but he thought you just looked embarrassed. He wanted nothing more than to make you laugh just once. To make you smile at him as though he was the most important person. He remembered when you’d caught him staring, you smiled brightly at him, his heart boomed in his chest. If you were anything like your older sister he knew you’d try to follow him in that forest and it made him sick to the stomach thinking about you getting hurt, or a demon finding you before he could.

Sanemi stood, crossing the room to you. You stopped rifling through your stuff to turn to him, looking up at him with doe eyes. He almost melted on the spot, the flower in your hair matching your eyes. He made a serious face, hoping his words would come across right.  

“I need you to swear to me you won’t come into that forest unless I send for you.” He says, fixing his eyes on yours. You keep his eyes on yours, he watches your throat bob with a swallow, your lips twitching. Your lips, glossed in the dim light of the station. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips, jesus.

“I promise, Sanemi.” You implore and he barely notices you had spoken until you said his name. His name on your lips, the way you spoke it, seemed intimate. Too intimate, he was too close to you, his fingers twitching, it was a pain to keep them at his side and not touch you. With all the strength he could muster he finally backed, tearing his eyes off yours. 

“Good. I expect you to keep that promise.” He says airly, his head clouded as he grabbed for the front door, not speaking another word to you. Cold air hit his cheeks, he started to find his way back to himself, his brain not clouded too much with you in the cold.

5. savior 

As your leg bounces up and down you stare out the window of the station. It had been hours now since Sanemi had entered that forest. Your heart was hammering around in your chest wildly. You stood and paced, stopping every time you approached the window to peer outside. Nothing, just the slow crawl of dusk and trees swaying in gentle wind. You bit your lip. All that he had done for you on this mission and the least you could do was keep the promise. 

To stay out of the woods. 

You supposed if you went in there with him you’d probably end up causing more trouble for him. You’d felt like such a burden, felt stupid. Like a little kid prancing around in grown ups clothes. You heard a rustle as you vaulted to the window. Nothing, just a small squirrel scavenging in a tree. You huffed, flipping back into the chair. 

How long did these missions usually take? Surely not four hours. You slumped into the chair. What did you know about missions? You were a medic, and this was your first tagalong. You thought about your sister, who was gone for weeks at a time for missions sometimes. You felt sick, thinking about yourself alone in this station for weeks, waiting for the reprieve of Sanemi walking back, alive and well. Your crow squawked beside you, scaring you out of her thoughts. 

“Dead!” The crow said, flapping its wings wildly. “Dead! Dead! Dead!” You jumped at the word being repeated. 

“What? Dead? Who? Who’s dead?” You fired off, dizzy with worry. The bird took flight, slamming into the closed station door. “Jesus!” You exclaimed, rushing to the small creature. The bird scrambled on the floor. 

“Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!” It repeated as you reached for it, it bit your hand, hard enough to draw blood. 

“Ow!” You gasped, pulling your hands away, tears springing to your eyes. 

“Dead!” You grabbed the bird firmly, not enough to hurt it but to get a straight answer.

“Who’s dead!” You yelled angrily. The creature seemed to snap out of its loop.

“Hashibami!” It squawked. It took you all of three seconds to remember what Sanemi’s crows name was. Hashibami. So Sanemi’s crow was dead, meaning he had no way to contact you if he was hurt. You let go of the squawking bird and rushed around the station, pulling on shoes and a jacket, slinging your medkit onto your back along with the only two weapons in your possession, a hopelessly rusty fire poker, and an old shotgun with two bullets. You sighed. You’d never fought to kill before, let alone with something as mundane as a fire poker and two bullets but it was better than nothing so you slung it around her shoulders and burst out the door. Your crow breaks into flight behind you.

“Fly high up, tell me where he went!” You direct and the thing listens to you, doing as told. Flapping its wings hard as it soared into the clouds. You took off running towards the entrance of the forest, pausing for a moment. 

It was dark now, there was no telling what you were about to run blindly into. A moment of reflection ceased as you took off running into the darkness. The look on Sanemi’s face when he placed that flower in your hair springing to your mind. How serious he looked when he implored you to stay behind. “Please be okay. Please be okay.” You repeated in a whisper, not just to yourself but to whatever force could hear you and make things right. Your crow squawked up ahead. 

“Follow!” It directed and you did, running so fast the trees went by like a blur. Your chest burned, breathing ragged, legs tired after a while, but you kept it up, not even slowing a little. Darkness started to set as the feathers of your bird blended into the night sky. You’d lost him, you stopped, panting and hot. And that’s when you heard it. Swords slicing through the air, sounds of a fight brewing. Sanemi! Something swelled in your chest as you ran blindly through the dark forest towards the sound. You tripped a few times, but never fell, catching yourself before the cold dirt could. 

A flash of light cut through the darkness, in the clearing, with moonlight illuminating you finally saw him. Sanemi. Bloody and bruised, fighting with everything he had in him. Your breath caught at the sight. He was a force to be reckoned with. But so was the demon he faced. Some sort of spider hybrid, you recoiled at the sight of it, a true monstrosity. You watched, hidden in the shadows of the trees as your crow landed on your shoulder, squawking loudly. You clamped your hand over the damned thing's beak but the demon heard it. And although you were sure you were hidden well, that demon and his eight eyes slid to look right at you, cutting through the darkness. A malicious smile growing on its bloody lips. 

“Ah, your savior is here!” It called out in a chalkboard screech of a voice. Fear hit you hard in the stomach. Sanemi turned, but he didn’t see who the demon was referring to. The demon hit Sanemi hard, sending him sprawling across the field as it shot towards you. You stumbled, falling on your back, crow taking flight. 

“Damn bird!” You cried out, slamming your hand over your mouth. Something grabbed your leg and dragged you out of the dark, you scrambled to grab onto something! Anything? But when you finally grabbed a raised root the demon yanked and you lost hold of it. For a moment you were let go, you pushed herself to her feet and turned but it grabbed around your waist, lifting you off the ground.

The sight of you in the demon's claws was the worst of Sanemi’s nightmares. But as fast as he stood you pulled the fire poker from your back and stabbed it repeatedly into the demon's arm. It cried out, dropping you momentarily. Sanemi couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips as he charged forwards. You were stronger than you seemed. Sanemi didn’t let the demon recover because the moment he let go, the moment you hit the ground Sanemi slashed his sword in a long arc, nearly decapitating it. The demon staggered back, its head hanging by a string of skin. Sanemi grabbed you, pulling you to her feet. Quickly he examines you, eyes flitting. He swallows down some emotion.

“Not hurt?" He asks quickly and you shake your head. "Go then. Get to the trees!” He directed, you didn’t disobey, you just ran. Sanemi turned back. He’d slice true this time, he wasn’t nearly as nervous when it was just him but now he had more to lose, and he’d die before he let even a hair on your head be touched. So Sanemi slashed, he barely felt the demon’s own slashes, adrenaline coursing through his body. He needed an opening, just a small opening. He wanted to force one but this damned thing was quick on its four legs. He slashed a leg as it shot out towards him. Another two grabbed him, one on his sword, the other by his neck. He cursed loudly, blood draining from his face as the spider’s grip around his neck tightened more and more. Suddenly a blast rang out, the hand that Sanemi was held in went slack and it took all of two seconds for Sanemi to react. He turned, you held the old shotgun shakily in your hands, smoke curling out of the barrel, you’d shot the leg that held him. This was his opening. He didn’t leave a string this time, he cut the head clear off, so quick that the demon hadn’t noticed until it went to walk and its head toppled right from its shoulders. The demon burst into flames, lighting the clearing more than the moon could. Sanemi stood unsteady, adrenaline starting to wear off. He turned, you looked at him with wide eyes, the gun still in your hand, slack at your side. 

“Holy shit… I’m sorry!” You called out, he began to limp to you, pain in every step. “Your crow was dead so I didn’t think, I just ran. I broke the promise- Oh!” You gasped as Sanemi’s hands grabbed you by the face and crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was desperate. Your soft hands barely knotted into the fabric of his shirt as he kissed you with such fervor. Your minds clouded. 

Slowly his hands traveled down you body to your waist, pulling you impossibly close as you threw your arms around the back of his neck. The kiss morphed, adrenaline not fueling it but more of the past few months knowing you. Your stomach was sick with yearning, soft lips meeting soft lips. Sanemi leaned and pulled you up off your feet, you gasped into his mouth and a shiver made its way down his spine. You dropped the gun, it hit the ground and shot a tree nearby, startling you both out of the clouded moment. When you parted for air, lips kissed pink, cheeks as red as roses he finally saw two things he’d wanted to see for so long. Your face morphed into a smile so bright and happy that he couldn’t help but smile a little himself. Then you laughed, just a small giggle, but he had made you laugh nonetheless. He kissed you again and again until his body ached and he could barely stand. He wavered and this time it was you that caught him. 

“Here, sit, I’ll grab my medkit.” You said softly, he caught your wrist, worry in his eyes. After all, they were still in a very dark forest. “It’s just right over here.” You reassured as you helped him sit in the grass. You were back in seconds, dabbing something cold in his wounds, wiping the blood from his abdomen and wrapping him in gauze. A comfortable silence grew between you as you deftly took care of him, you were quick with your hands and had him stitched up in mere moments. 

“You’re good at that.” Sanemi says, his voice gruff. You blushed, smiling to yourself. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up to him and without thinking, starting to wipe the blood from his cheek. He flinches away, and you pause. “Oh, sorry.” You say mindlessly. “You have a bit-“

“Go ahead.” Sanemi says, eyes soft. He was so completely different from how he usually was. It finally hit you in this close range that he’d kissed you, roughly, and with an intense amount of affection and want. Your hands started to shake with the memory of his lips on yours. Sanemi’s eyes leave you as he looks to your hands. “You alright?” He asks caringly. You clears your throat, steeling your nerves as you get back to wiping the blood off his face. 

“Sorry, I think the adrenaline is wearing off.” You breathe out. Sanemi nods his head. 

“You were incredible. You saved me.” Sanemi says as you pause, shaking your head. 

“No- no you were amazing. That final slash was faster than I could blink!” 

“I was only able to do that because you distracted him with a rather on point shot. Have you shot a gun before?” He asks as you shake your head. His eyes grow a bit large. 

“Guess you’re lucky I didn’t take your head off.” You smirk. Sanemi laughs abruptly, it’s a laugh that’s so infectious that you smile even in the horror of recounting the attack. Sanemi collects himself. 

“What matters is that you were there.” He says, you pull your hand away, the blood thoroughly cleaned off his face. You smile at him, looking at him through new eyes. Your eyes met and for a moment you were struck with the thought that Sanemi would kiss you again and you almost melted at the thought. Your crow squawked, ruining the moment. 

“Home! Hungry!” It bellowed in your ear. You swatted at the thing. 

“Damn bird.” You sigh causing Sanemi to laugh some more. “Maybe we should get back to the station.” You caves, gathering up your things. “Do you think you can walk?” You asks as Sanemi nods his head, pushing himself to his feet only to fall right back down. You tossed the medical bag around your shoulder and helped Sanemi to his feet, draping his arm around your shoulder for support. He lets you, let’s you guide him back to the station, all the while his heart beats wildly in his throat. He couldn’t believe he’d kissed you. Something he’d wanted to do since he first saw you smiling. And he’d done it. He couldn’t help himself. When he saw you, standing there, you’d just practically saved him. He had to kiss you. He’d done a shit job letting you know he cared before so he hoped that maybe you could understand him now. That these emotions weren’t so familiar to him and that it was hard expressing them but he’d try. 

6. fire light

It was a while before you arrived back at the station, both exhausted. You helped Sanemi to the bed and got to work making a fire because goddamn was the station freezing. You were sure Sanemi was out the moment he hit the pillow. You bumbled around the dark cabin, starting the fire. It burned dully as you closed the furnace door, heat filling the room slowly. You stared at the fire, almost drifting to sleep. 

“Kanroji,” Sanemi’s voice startled you. You thought he was asleep. You turned to see he had rolled over, holding the covers open. “Come on.” He intones, offering the space beside him. Your heart lurched in your chest at the offer, but it was cold and you were so tired. You pushed to your feet and kicked off your shoes, sliding in beside him. Sanemi placed the cover over you both and slid a loose arm around your hips pulling you flush against his body. His head is placed in the crook of your neck and you can feel him warm breath against sensitive skin. You close your eyes, exhaling softly. 

“Is this okay?” Sanemi asks in your ear. You don’t trust your voice not to fuck you over so you nod your head. Sanemi hums and you can feel the vibrations in your chest.

[katanablue]

hey so how do you think the 2003 boys would deal with individually having a friend who one of their brothers is crushing on and at some point this crush has commented on their brother being cute. Maybe they’re like “you know, he thinks you’re cute too”. And this crush is shyly doing this gesture and says this“👉👈He do?” Like not even denying that they are happy about this news. After that confirmation and a little bit of encouragement . Crush asks their brother out another day?

Eeeee this is cute lol, sorry that it’s short!!!

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰💙꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

• Leo is beyond happy when you confirm that you have a crush on Mikey as well, seeing the adorable way you shyly tap the points of your index fingers together when he tells you that his youngest brother thinks you’re cute.

• He’s a bit awkward when giving you tips on how to confess your feelings, tells you to speak from the heart and everything will go well. And it does!

• Mikey is so easy going and fun to be around that your confession goes smoothly, the two of you immediately making plans for your first date. When you see Leo later on, he simply gives you a wink and a nod, glad to see that things worked out.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰❤️꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

• Raph isn’t even surprised when you say that you like Donnie as well, simply smirking in your direction because duh, he already picked up on it.

• He knows you’ll be good for him, one of the few people to actually get his brainiac bro out of that lab and doing something else besides being holed up with his inventions all day.

• Raph is surprisingly gentle when he tells you to go for it, words of advice here and there and a supportive pat to the shoulder. He lowkey watches from afar when you tell Donnie your feelings and ask him out, then acts like he wasn’t watching at all when he sees you later.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰💜꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

• Donnie may or may not have been fishing when he brought up the fact that Leo thinks you’re cute. He’s a genius instigator, okay! He just wanted to see if his ‘calculations’ were correct when talking about it and as usual, they were.

• Tells you all of Leo’s fav things (if you don’t know them already) and gives you words of encouragement on how to proceed with asking him out on a date. He might even suggest making Leo a gift basket of sorts since his brother tends to be fond of those.

• Def does not watch or listen in but he does ask you about it later when he sees the gift basket in Leo’s room.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰🧡꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

• Mikey genuinely looks at you like you have 3 heads when you get all goo-goo eyed over the fact that Raph thinks you’re cute. For an instant he almost regrets telling you, but those were just his ‘annoying youngest brother’ vibes going on for a brief second.

• He gives you the greatest pep talk out of the rest of his brothers though, giving you pointers on how to approach his hothead brother and the best way to ask him out.

• Like Raph he’d also watch, making Donnie and Leo join in on him as well. When it’s over he reveals himself and gives you a thumbs up and a hug, totally ignoring the way Raph’s face is fuming.

[bamboozledbird]

the children. they yearn for you and your stories. i hope you're doing well and just know that you are so very missed and appreciated here 💙💙💙💙

thank you so much :') i'm still searching for another job and more importantly good heath insurance rip, so sweet messages like this really help lower the cortisol levels lmao.

i haven't had a lot of time or energy to write, but here is a little snippet of something i'm working on to hopefully quench the yearning. it is not edited or finished obviously.

It’s an icy slice of fear that wakes you up. A white flash of ‘fight or flight’ behind your sleep-sticky lids. A rattling at your window that isn’t the rain or the wind echoing in the moonlight. It’s a familiar sound, someone scrambling on the loose tiling of your roof, but a forgotten one. It’s strange, sweet-sharp, and out of place in your current reality. 

A noise that shouldn’t exist outside of a memory. 

Stiles spills into your room and lands on his knees, dripping water onto your hardwood floor. His hair is plastered to his forehead from the angry squall outside, and the dark clouds are a mocking reflection of the look carving out the hollows of his face. The moon has eclipsed all the sunlight in his eyes, and it feels so, so cold.

For a moment, you think you’re dreaming or maybe still in that luminescent oil slick between sleep and consciousness. Stiles looks like something from a dream—a nightmare. He’s there, but he isn’t. He’s a boy, but he isn’t. He’s lost to something you can’t see, swept up in the storm and turned into something else.

You sit up in your bed and wait for him to say something—to move. He just stays there, soaked to the bone on his knees, and stares at something beyond the shifting shadows on your bedroom walls. 

“Stiles?” 

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even make a sound. You crawl out of your bed and sit down on the floor next to him, draping a woven blanket over his shoulders. It almost matches his flannel, blue and checkered. It’s a little detail that would’ve made you smile before, mostly because Stiles would get this warm look in his eyes: so fond it felt like worship. 

It’s fall. The air smells like apples and earth. You watch the shadow of little fish swim in jagged circles through murky water. Stiles is a warm presence against your side. 

He buries his nose in your hair and hums, “You like the pieces.” 

“I guess.”

You feel his smile against your temple.

“Me too.”

You still wake up with the taste of him sticking to your teeth, sweet honey and sharp cloves, but it’s hardly enough. Does he ache for who you were that Friday? Does he still love that girl in his arms–orange and warm under the setting sun, blissfully unaware of the end. 

What does Stiles think when he looks at you now? Does he think about you at all? 

You spent so long thinking you weren’t supposed to be friends, and now you don’t know what you’re to be. How can you belong to a memory?