#''how am i supposed to know where he is'' you Look

[del-thetiredwriter]

Twisted Wonderland / Otome Au

Warning: Yandere , gn reader, English is not my first language.

Notes: Okay I know I have many other au in waiting but I just liked the idea and write this instead. I hope you like it . Please share your thoughts with me.

Summary: One day, you opened your eyes and found yourself in Twisted Wonderland. And the task the System gave you is to get one of the lead characters love meter to 100% by the end of the main story and reach their happy ending.

You slowly opened your eyes to the sounds of the voices. It was dark… and it sounded like someone was punching to something ? You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t. As you tried to understand what was happening, a screen and two options appeared in front of you:

> What’s that noise?

> Is it morning already?

You clicked on one of the random options.

“I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me… Urgggh… this lid weighs a ton!”

Who was talking like that?

“Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

Suddenly, blue flames spread everywhere. You wanted to scream but you couldn’t even move, let alone talk. Two options appeared in front of you again.

> BWAAAH?!

> F- fire?!

What were these options? You clicked on a random option.

“Now to grab the goods… What?! You ain’t supposed to be awake!”

When you opened your eyes, a talking cat? And a strange room? But for a second, something seemed familiar…

Two options appeared in front of you again:

> A talking… weasel?!

> F-floating coffins?!

You clicked the first option. With your click, words without consent came out of your mouth again.

“How… How DARE YOU! I am no WEASEL! I’m Grim , sorcerer extraordinaire!”

The cat shouted? But wait a minute Grim? Now when you look carefully, this room, these scenes were just like the game you played, Twisted Wonderland.

“Tch. Whatever. You…human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it! Cause if you don’t…you’re gonna regret it!”

Two options appeared in front of you again:

> S-somebody help!

> Getting roasted alive by a weasel!? What will I dream next ?

You clicked on one of the options on the screen and your legs started running on their own… when you finally stopped, two options appeared again on the screen that you thought was invisible to everyone except you (Grim never talked about the screen, that's why you came to this conclusion).

> Where am I?

> If this is a dream, I'm ready to wake up now.

When you clicked on one of the options, Grim's voice came from behind you.

"Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME? Now unless you wanna get burned to a crisp,take off that- Me-YEOW! That hurt!what gives?"

Just like in the prologue of the game, the man you thought was Crowley came. You weren't listening to Crowley while he was saying something. You were trying to understand the strangeness of the events. Everything seemed real, as if it couldn't be a dream, but you weren't in control of your body… Two options appeared on the screen that you thought was invisible again:

> Student…?

> Gate…?

You clicked on one of the options. Then Crowley gave you the explanations you know. And two options appeared on the screen again:

> So those coffins are like…gateways?

> I think something blew the lid of mine.

You quickly clicked an option. Apparently this screen was only visible to you. The man you thought was Crowley had never talked about this screen… Two options appeared on the screen again and you clicked the option you chose… Crowley’s answer confirmed your guess. You were in Twisted Wonderland?..

The screen appeared in front of you again.

….

The movement restrictions have been lifted. You have regained your ability to speak and move. Now you can talk and move as you wish.

….

Y/N L/N Welcome to Twisted Wonderland.

Main quest: Reach your happy ending with your true love before the main story ends.

Track the love meters of the protagonists to find out their love for you, and increase their love meters to 100%. Reach your happy ending before the main story ends.

Time limit: End of the main story

Punishment: Death

….

You opened your mouth, you could move! But wait a minute, is everything real then? As you recall, Twisted Wonderland wasn't an Otome game. But if everything was real... what would you do?

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

Red-haired, tough and disciplined Heartslabyul dorm leader. If you follow his route, you will start at zero, but with the end of the prologue and the start of Book 1, his interest in you will drop to minus due to your friends Ace, Deuce and Grimm. Especially if you argue with him one-on-one, his love percentage, which is already at minus, will drop even more.

But don't worry, Riddle, who feels ashamed and regretful for what he made you go through after the overblot he experienced at the end of the first book, can increase his love percentage from minus to zero or even plus.

It will be easier to approach Riddle after the overblot incident. Especially after the overblot he experienced, while people stay away from him, your being by his side will fuel his love for you. So you can expect sudden increases in his love meter.

He likes to have tea with you, attend unbirthday parties and have study dates. Especially when you ask him to explain a question you are stuck on, he literally melts when you approach him while he is explaining the question to you. He will have difficulty of maintaining his facial expressions and tone of his voice.

However, there is one thing you should pay attention to. That is Riddle's controlling personality. Although he is fine in normal mode, the same cannot be said for dark mode. For this reason, you should be careful in your choices. Although some choices increase Riddle's love level, they can put him in dark mode.

In dark mode, Riddle initially isolates you from your friends under the excuse of studying without you noticing, then this progresses and before you know it, he even chooses the tea you drink. He controls your entire life. In dark mode, Riddle does not want you to be interested in anyone other than himself or be friends. Everyone is a potential threat to him. If you do not stop him in time, he can go as far as imprisoning you in his own room.

Trey Clover

Tall, kind and helpful, the vice dorm leader of heartslabyul. If you are following the Trey route, I recommend that you do not expect a sudden increase in Trey's love meter, unlike Riddle. Although Trey is affectionate and gentle, you can raise the love meter very slowly, and after a while, you may not be able to raise it at all.

Trey usually likes to help you with your studies and bake with you. However, he swears that your baking dates will be the end of him. When you giggle and wipe his face when he get flour on his face, when you lick your finger to taste the cream, or when you feed him something with your own hands, his heart beats so fast that he swears he will have a heart attack.

But he always reminds himself to control himself. He is your reliable, gentle, and loving senpai. He scolds himself for thinking such things about you. Because of this, your relationship progresses a little slowly.

Although Trey is a sweet, affectionate, and calm person, some of your choices and words can put him in dark mode.

It is very difficult to distinguish the difference between Trey in dark mode and Trey in normal mode. He never shows anything, he is always smiling, calm, and affectionate... This is what makes him dangerous. He manipulates you without you even realizing it. Going out with friends? Oh, Trey bought you tickets to the movies you wanted to go to, but if you don't want to go, you can go out with your friends. Did you make a new friend and are you spending "too much" time with them? Trey heard some nasty gossip about them... It was all your choice. Trey didn't force you to do anything.

Cater Diamond

Bright, social butterfly, 3rd year heartslabyul student Cater Diamond. If you follow Cater's route, it won't be hard to meet him, but it won't be easy to get close to him. Although Cater seems like a cheerful, relaxed, fun and friendly person, it won't be easy to pass through his walls. If you remember the fine details about his from the scenes you played in the game before and use this information to get close to him, it can be easier to get close to him.

You usually go on Cafe dates with Cater. And whenever you go out, Cater doesn't forget to take dozens of photos. Every time he takes a photo of you, he tells you how sweet and cute you look. He also doesn't forget to upload the photos he takes to magicam, after all, everyone should know how compatible a couple you are, right? Additional information: Cater loves to wear matching couple clothes with you. You can see that Cater's love meter increases especially when you wear matching clothes on dates.

Appearing closer to others or not revealing your relationship, hiding it or making small mistakes will cause Cater to have doubts and once the seeds of doubt are planted, it is hard to turn back. In dark mode, Cater does not show anything, just like Trey. He just smiles… With his social skills, it will not be difficult for Cater to isolate you. You see, rumors about you are everywhere and you have nothing to do but cry on Cater's shoulder. Because of the rumors, no one talks to you anymore and you are becoming more and more lonely. But don't worry, your prince charming Cater believes in you and is by your side.

Ace Trapolla

Ace Trappola, a mischievous first-year student of Heartslabyul. The first person you meet, although your first meeting was not that good, you quickly became close friends, just like in the game. Since you are close friends and in the same class, it is not very difficult to get close to Ace and increase his love meter since you spend most of your time together. The only problem is that he and Grimm are always causing you trouble and Ace is annoying.

You usually go out with Ace to cafes or on study dates. Even though Ace doesn't like studying, he likes it when you get close to him while explaining topics or explaining solutions to problems or when he watches you study. Why else would he go on a study date with you? Another activity Ace likes is when you watch him practice basketball, after all he wants you to see how cool he is. Ace also likes movie night and playing cards at the Ramshackle dorm and he visits the Ramshackle dorm often. He loves the way you get angry when you lose in every game, especially when you catch him cheating.

Now let's talk about Ace's jealousy problem. If you are not careful and neglect him, it can put Ace in dark mode. In dark mode, Ace reveals himself a little. His jokes and words are especially focused on breaking your self-confidence. However, he tries not to show it. He doesn't give you a chance to spend time with others and starts to show possessive behavior. He doesn't let you question him. He manipulates you into thinking you are inadequate and that he should be your only concern.

Your only concern should be Ace, after all, you should be thankful to him for being with a weak, magicless person like you.

Deuce Spade

Deuce Spade, a first-year student of Heartslabyul who helps you in every way, and who gets into more trouble as he tries to stay out of trouble. If you are following the Deuce Route, it won't be very difficult for you to get close to him. As in the story line, you meet in the prologue section. Since you are in the same class, you have the opportunity to get very close to him.

You usually make him study in your free time. You try to help him with the subjects he has difficulty with. Honestly , Deuce is as grateful as he is embarrassed about this. Spending your valuable time with him makes him feel special.

When you find out about his not-so-pleasant past that he hides, comforting him and encouraging him on his path to becoming an honor student increases his love meter a lot.

It's not easy to get into the dark mode Deuce route so don't worry. However, if you do get into dark mode Deuce will become more Clingy than usual. He's always afraid that you might leave him. If he sees you close to someone else he might get into a fist fight with that person when you're not around. But please don't leave him, you're his everything!

[illusioninfnty]

Bite Me, Suck Me, Stake Me!

જ⁀➴ Vampire & Hunter : Day 29

feat. Simon "Ghost" Riley ᯓ★ Ghost is a skilled vampire hunter, but you're an even better vampire. Too bad you haven't convinced him to let you take a little bite out of him yet...

warnings! : NSFW 18+, fingering, degradation, name-calling, semi-public sex, hate sex, choking, biting, cum eating, blood play, blood as lube

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Found you.”

The cool silver of a knife digs into the skin of your neck, as a familiar gravelly voice rings out from behind you in the alleyway.

“Ghost.” You smirk, remaining calm. “What a surprise,” you say sarcastically. You and Ghost have been constantly going back and forth with each other ever since he started hunting vampires in your area. It’s like a game at this point. You hunt for food, he chases after you, you run.

You know you can kill him with ease if you so please, but he dicks you down so nicely that you let him slide just for that. 

The sharp tip of a wooden stake digs into your back as Ghost presses himself against you. “No sudden moves or I stake you where you stand, vamp.”

He spits out the words with venom, but you know it means naught.

“Just like you promised me last time? And the time before that, and before that, and—”

A grunt sounds from the vampire hunter as the stake digs itself further into your back, interrupting your teasing words. You bite your lip to prevent the hiss of pain from rolling off of your lips.

“Not this time. Price is on my ass now. Can’t have any more screw-ups happening under my watch.” He leans in closer to you, his hot breath a stark contrast to your cool skin as it hits your cheek. “And it seems like you’ve been causing more and more trouble these days. More than I can afford.”

“How else am I supposed to get your attention?” you drawl out, running a hand up his muscular, tattooed arm. You feel the way he clenches from your touch, his veins pulsing as the blood rushes in his body. You lick your lips, running your tongue over your exposed fangs. With your free hand, you flick his hood off of his head, getting a look at his beady, intense eyes as they stare you down.

“I missed you,” you say, running a hand down his front, reaching down to grab his bulge. “And I missed him, too.”

“Fucking tease,” he hisses, but you can tell he’s getting all riled up by the way his cock throbs in your hand, hardening as the seconds pass by. You begin to fondle him, rubbing his member through his pants as you feel yourself getting wet.

“Such a slut.” Simon’s voice comes out in a growl. The weapons he holds against you are swiftly put away as one hand nestles itself against the back of your neck while the other pushes your pants and underwear down, two digits already fingering at your wet slit. “Causing trouble just to get my attention? Didn’t take you to be such a brat.”

You grumble at the hand that restricts your head movements. Simon is smart—no doubt that he knew you were planning to bite him. Unlike other vampires, you did have some self-control when it came to biting humans, but there was something about the vampire hunter who constantly chased you that enraptured you, desperate to get a taste of the blood pumping through his veins.

“Need you to fuck me,” you tell him bluntly. You attempt to move out of his hold, but Simon has an iron-locked grip on you as he sticks his fingers inside of you. A piercing cry leaves your lips as his fingers curl and thrust inside of you, your wetness allowing him to move them with ease.

“Shit, look at you. Barely even touched you and you're already begging for my cock.”

You only respond with a moan; Simon chuckles as he removes his fingers, and you hear the clink of his belt buckle as he undoes his pants and pulls his cock out.

It only takes a couple of seconds for Simon to align his cock with your entrance and push himself in, the familiar stretch of his member filling you up so nicely, complete in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Fuuuck,” you moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body starts to go limp as Simon thrusts his cock in and out of you with reckless abandon, the clapping of his skin to yours loud enough that you think if someone walks past the alleyway you’re in they’d hear it before they see you.

You yelp as the heat of Simon’s palm meets your ass, snapping your thoughts back to the present, to the pleasure he gives you.

“Focus on me.” His grip tightens around your neck, his hand wide enough to reach around towards the front of it, pressing down hard enough to make your body feel all tingly. His thrusts are relentless, your body powerless to him as he manipulates you to his heart's desire.

“L-let me bite you,” you breathe out, thrashing your head around before Simon stills you. “Just a taste,” your voice trails off, more pathetic sounding than you intended.

Simon snorts. “I’m not letting a vamp bite me.” He ruts his hips against you, his cock filling you to its hilt. “Especially one as reckless as you.”

He ignores your whines of complaint, holding you still with one hand as he fucks up into you, caging you in as his other hand steadies himself against the brick wall.

But yet as Simon becomes distracted with his thrusts, the tightness of his hold on you lessens. You take that as your cue to escape from his grip. The aroused state you’re both in has your senses heightened to the fullest. You can practically hear the blood flowing in his body, the strength of it intensified with the adrenaline that course through his veins as he fucks you. 

You don’t even take a second to think as you sink your fangs into the arm that’s stretched out next to you, a moan escaping as you taste Simon’s sweet, sweet blood for the first time.

“Fuck!” Simon rips his arm away from your bite with a yelp. You gasp as his cock leaves your body as he turns you around, shoving you against the wall, restraining you with a hand around your throat. He squeezes down with the bitten arm, blood flowing from it down towards his fingertips. You laugh as much as you can with your airflow restricted, fangs dripping with his blood. You lick some of it that dribbles out of the corner of your lips, staring teasingly up at Simon through your lashes as you do so.

“Fucking bitch,” Simon growls, teeth practically snarling as he stares you down with malice. “Should fucking stake you for that!”

“You like my cunt too much to do that,” you purr, your arousal heightened more than ever as you’re invigorated by the taste of human blood—human blood that actually tastes good. You open up your legs, baring your sopping cunt to him, bucking your hips up.

As Simon squeezes down on your neck, his flowing blood trickles its way closer and closer to you. Your pupils dilate as you see the stream of red finally get into your reach, licking as much of it as you can up. You didn’t want to waste a drop if you didn’t have to.

“You want my blood that badly?” Simon takes a swipe at his bleeding arm, coating his palm in the liquid. He pumps his cock one, two, three times and then shoves it back into you, blood and all. ‘You can fucking take it like a slut, then.”

Your world turns white as your body fills with immense pleasure as he buries himself into you. He gives you no time to adjust to his size as he begins to thrust wildly. You moan, digging your nails into his skin for stability.

“Careful, big boy,” you start, arousal dripping off of your words, “I might just get addicted to you now.”

“Seems like you already are with the way you’re clenching around me like that.”

You don’t have the strength to answer Simon, the taste of his blood still in your mouth along with the way that his cock stretches you completely, jackhammering its way into places you never knew it could reach, has you feeling euphoric. You don’t even get a warning yourself as you feel yourself cum suddenly, juices squirting all over yourself and him.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck,” you repeat over and over as your body trembles, jolts of electricity moving their way up and down your limbs as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

The rhythm of Simon’s thrusts begins to dissipate, and with a low grunt warmth fills your cunt as he cums inside of you, the hot liquid filling your throbbing entrance.

He pulls out and finally releases his grip on your neck, causing you to grasp on the wall behind you as your legs still shake relentlessly.

You look down to see his cum spill out of you, dribbling down your thighs, turning a light pink color as it mixes with his blood.

Simon swipes a hand at your slit, puffy and sensitive from the sex. You whine as he does so, seeing the way it coats his fingers, a nice and thick viscosity.

“This’ll be the last time you get a taste of my blood. He takes a hand to your jaw, opening it up as he shoves his blood and cum coated fingers down your throat. “Fucking take it.” You slurp on it happily, the sweetness of his blood mixing perfectly with the salty taste of his cum.

“That should keep you occupied for a while.” He mutters. “And me out of trouble for now.”

As you finish licking his fingers clean, Simon pulls his pants up, buckling his belt and throwing his hood back over his head. “Next time we meet will be the last, and it’ll end with a stake implanted in your fucking heart.”

You chuckle as he stalks off, disappearing into the night. You’re not scared of his empty threats. He’s just as addicted to you as you are to him.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Summer Talks {Blurb}

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred lets you know what he's waiting for

WC: 980

Warning: Use of Y/N-

Summer at the Weasley’s was always delightful. Everyone was outside in the sun, spraying each other with muggle water toys or swimming in the lake. It was always so cozy, and full of life, your favorite place to waste hours of your time.

“Hey, {Y/N}! Going in already, dear?” Mrs. Weasley called out to you and you rang out your hair and jogged up to the porch and grabbed the towel George threw at you. Giving him a bright smile and a swift thank you as you covered your swim suit clad body.

“Mhm! I'm going to freshen up!”

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her warm smile never fading. “You’ve been in the water for ages! Make sure to grab a snack before dinner; I’ve just baked a fresh batch of treacle tart.” She called back, her eyes glinting with excitement.

As you turned to head inside, you caught sight of Ron and Hermione engaged in a playful and rather sarcastic argument about who could build the best sandcastle down by the lake. Harry was nearby, laughing and attempting to mediate, but it was clear he was being drowned out by the two.

When you caught his eyes he gave an exaggerated sigh and you just shook your head, hurrying up the steps to the room you had been staying in for the past few days. Charlie’s old room. Though, you were annoyed to find that someone was currently occupying the in suite bathroom Molly had assured you would be yours for the summer.

You rapped lightly against the door, hearing the faint sound of water running and muttering something to yourself. No one answered.

Carefully, you opened the door and peaked in, furrowing your brow in confusion before you saw the shower had been on. Was on.

“Hello?” You called again, not knowing exactly what you expected, until you heard a voice call back.

“{Y/N}?” Fred called back and opened the curtain. You quickly dropped the edges of your towel and covered your eyes with a shocked gasp, only to hear him laugh. Carefully, you peaked through your fingers and gave a loud and annoyed groan to see he was showering in his swim trunks.

You leaned down to grab your discarded towel, only to roll it up and throw it at him. “You cheek! This was supposed to be my private bathroom!”

“Hey, hey! Play nice, you'll bruise my best asset.” He huffed and you rolled your eyes. “Get over yourself.”

He laughed and shrugged, taking your towel and tangling it in his wet hair as he turned off the shower head. You turned to walk into your room and sat on Charlie’s old bed, while Fred leaned in the bathroom doorway and let the towel fall to his shoulders.

You did your best not to watch as his hair dripped and hit the hard wood flooring. How he gave you that loose cocky little smirk he always seemed to wear, like the bottle of absolute sunshine he was. You leaned your head in your palm as he walked over to sit beside you.

“So, {Y/N}, it's been a while. Some would say you're avoiding me.” He teased and you bit your cheek.

“I always am, Fred.” You cheeked and smiled at him, he looked up at you from where he leaned on his elbows, tilting his head and giving you a pretty obvious look up and down.

That wasn't new.

“Keep it in your pants, lover boy.”

Fred chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I can’t help it if you look good in that swimsuit. It’s a compliment, you know.” He flashed you that grin- the one that could make anyone’s heart race.

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Weasley.” You muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“Is that a challenge?” He chuckled, leaning closer. “Because you know I love a good challenge.”

You shook your head, trying to maintain your composure. “Oh I know you do. How's Angelina? Heard you lettered her a few times since I've been back.”

He rolled his eyes back and gave an exaggerated groan, before he sat up and ran his fingers through his head. Giving you an amused look. “Stop that.”

“No, I'm serious.” You insisted. “I heard from George that you two have really been hitting it off. Good for you two.”

He gave a disbelieving laugh and looked you straight in your eyes. Holding the look for a moment before his smirk turned far more gentle, but still insistent. “You know that it's me and you getting married, yeah? My mom would kill me if it was anyone else.”

You felt your heart race at his words, your cheeks warming as you tried to process what he had just said. “What are you on about?” You managed, trying to sound casual, but the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed you.

Fred leaned back, his expression shifting to a mix of playful seriousness. “I mean it! You and me, it’s been me and you since we were tots.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You really think so? What about Angelina?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Angelina is dynamite. But she's more into me but.. younger.” He smirked and you furrowed your brow in confusion, before your eyebrows shot up.

Oh George you prick.

“Now, George did tell me something interesting.”

“What's that?” You mused and turned to look at him again.

“You and Wood. What's going on there?”

“Oh, are you jealous?" You teased and rolled his jaw.

“I don't get jealous. I don't need to.” He stood up and began to walk backwards, sending you wink as he walked to the door. “You have fun with that fling. Call me when you're ready for your husband.”

[hitlikehammers]

ignis obscura (dragon-sacrifice!Steve falls for random-man-in-the-woods(?)!Eddie before Steve goes to get eaten) (???)

feat. lots of love-at-first-sight, soul-deep devotion sorta shit

When a dragon arrives within telling-distance, the town nearest the lair it claims must send the sacrifice; their most valued possession. Everyone knows this.

It was just that no one in Hawkins had ever imagined—never really believed—that of all the villages, a dragon would come to them.

Steve had imagined it, though. As a boy, he’d thought it an adventure. As a teenager, he’d fancied it something of an escape.

Now, when it happens? As a young man, Steve Harrington mostly just thinks of course it goes like this.

Because he’s the disappointing-but-only son of the mayor, in a town where mayoral wealth rivals the coffers of the crown, and if the dragon wants value? Steve’s the gateway to whatever riches have been hoarded, whatever small power may be marshaled to command more, to rule, to gather up virgins if Steve himself proved insufficient to that fabled task—though he was renowned as the most comely of his people, having just dipped his toe into his prime while keeping the rosy flush to his cheeks alongside the strength in his arms: perfect timing, really. It helped pad the argument for him as the tribute.

As if maybe the dragon had waited, had watched. Had known what it wanted, and swooped in with intent.

Steve couldn’t give two rats’ asses what the dragon did or didn’t do, as he made his way through the woods and up the mountain. The stories of sacrifice always paired with the same end: no matter how you pleased the dragon, the tribute did not live to descend to their home again.

So really, at this point, it was merely a question of how Steve would meet his end. At the dragon’s mercy, of course, but: more like details.

Steve distracts himself with arguments for whether it’s wiser, or more efficient, to carve human flesh with claws or teeth, and it’s a job done so well that he not only finds himself wholly turned around on this trek, far too close to nightfall, and not nearly as near to the cave he’s aiming for as he need be, but more than that:

He fails to notice he’s no longer alone.

“Are you lost?”

There is a honey-smooth quality to the voice that rings out but…deeper. Darker even, though it doesn’t strike warning between Steve’s lungs. It’s…caramelized, and slow slip of thick…almost comfort. Steve fights to keep a clear head: not all dangers are apparent. Enchantment and faerie mischief, even, could have found him in his mindless wandering.

“Lost?” Steve tries to scoff at the right tone of haughty; “I’ve lived here my entire life—“

“In these deserted woods?” the voice, and now there’s a figure that draws nearer, closer in the growing claim of the moon for light but still more silhouette than anything as it—he, the voice is male, Steve is near-certain—turns and assesses their immediate surroundings before tutting thrice:

“Strange choice of domicile.”

And it’s mocking, of course it is: but the honey-caramel of the voice is a molten thing. It warms Steve deep and he cannot even be cross.

“I,” he starts, but sees not point to finishing before he sighs and admits, to himself as much as to the stranger:

“Yes, I am lost.”

“But you’ve lived here your whole life!” the stranger slaps a palm to his own cheek, mouth dropped in faux-horror but he looks so…earnest. And maybe adorable with it, so much so that Steve can’t help but chuckle a little helplessly for it all.

“Hush,” he chides, half-heartedly at best. “I was supposed to get to the caves by nightfall.”

“Ooo,” the stranger leans in, as if to prepare for a secret; Steve didn’t realize he was so close; “scintillating dinner date?”

Steve can’t help it but to snort.

“By a measure,” Steve deadpans, before clearing his throat; “I need to present myself to the dragon.” When the strange man stares at him unblinking Steve deflates a little.

“You know, hot, fire,” he gestures broadly; everyone knows what comes at the end of a sacrifice: “dinner…”

“Why are you looking for a dragon?” the other man asks, his lips pulling down a bit in just-shy-of-a-frown. Steve doesn’t like the look on him, so he tries to put on a bit of a show, match the stranger’s teasing energy from before as best he can in the given circumstances:

“I just so happen to be the village sacrifice,” Steve announces, chest puffed a bit, but he fails to do anything but deepen the frown he’d been aiming to wipe clean from the other man’s face; now Steve’s frowning, too, as he deflates a little, but hardens a little too, crossing his arms and leaning back where the other man’s not even bothered to stop leaning in, despite his apparently displeasure.

“What?” Steve challenges, but it’s brittle, he knows it. “It’s a,” he vacillates, unsure how exactly to describe the…ritual of it. The way it’s cast as a, as a…

“It is a high,” Steve’s voice wavers a bit, like finally saying it aloud makes it all the less believable: “honor.”

The other man eyes him silently until Steve feels it in his very skin, before finally he speaks:

“Hmm,” he tips his head, considering just a little before he seems less to come to a conclusion, and more to a conclusion on how to best voice the things he wanted to say already, at that:

“Well, I know these woods very well, better than any hailing from the village I suspect you’re speaking of,” his gaze flicks Steve top to toes, something warm in it, no, something hot in it, that simmers through Steve’s veins: “and so I can get you to the caves, at the very least for shelter before moonrise-full,” he glances skyward, seeming to doublecheck his words before he nods decisively and reaches out a hand:

“Think you can trust someone you only just stumbled upon in the forest to steer you straight?”

And Steve doesn’t know for sure what he’d have done, what his answer and actions may have been if death-by-some-draconic-means weren’t imminent. But it is, and so he takes the hand offered, and grasps more than shakes, holds more than strikes accord and lets himself notice and relish how smooth and warm it feels against his skin:

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t know what he’d do in lesser circumstances.

But for the grin on the man’s face, the way it shines brighter than moonlight, than sunrays even, he suspects: for the way it makes of the man a star on his own somehow?

Steve wants very much to believe he’d trust the man anyway, regardless of sense, just for the breadth of that smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Looks like the dragon’s out for the night.”

Steve makes an extra survey of the den nestled a good bit into the cave when his mysterious guide comments on the undeniable silence of their surroundings, the telling echo of their footsteps in the empty space.

“Curses,” Steve huffs, both frustrated and dismayed because: “I’ll have angered him, what if he doesn’t think I’m enough for—“

“One,” Steve’s beguiling guide ticks the point off with a finger raised on a strangely elegant hand; “you think dragons to be too irritable.” Steve rolls his eyes to himself—this Man who knows so much of the temperaments of dragons, the ego to presume—

“They can be quite pleasant so long as they have sufficient treasure. And they’re long-lived, so they’re patient,” the man continues on, which: it seems his ego’s well-reasoned out at the very least, Steve supposes.

“Which brings us to point number two,” and of course there’s a number two, a pair of fingers now waving almost accusingly to the side of Steve’s face:

“You’re more than enough to be worth waiting for.”

Steve blushes furiously and thanks the sparse cracks of nearly enchanted—quite possibly enchanted, actually—light for very little chance to be seen for it.

His companion grins with a glimmer of that sparse glow catching his eyes, glittering in it like enchantment themselves, and Steve thinks both that yes, he’s likely been seen and caught so that likewise yes, he needs to move out of the shaft of light that betrays him and with haste, because to think such a thing about this strange and beguiling man—beguiling, good gods—says far to much about what Steve feels about him, and far too soon, even by his standards.

Which are lightning quick already on a day in which he knows restraint.

“Sparse for a horde,” Steve surprises himself for how steady his voice is, given how obvious his bid to change the subject lands, not matter his tone.

His companion is gracious enough to allow the shift without comment:

“You think mortal eyes can see such things without a dragon’s explicit permission?”

But not gracious enough to abandon that ego.

“How do you know so much of dragons?” Steve finally just asks; subtlety’s never been his strongest characteristic, and in honesty, it’s past time to have asked it.

The other man smirks, scoffs a little.

“This may be your village’s first encounter with them,” and it’s said not quite in censure, and not unkindly, but Steve is cowed a bit nonetheless—the man had never named but has more than once referenced where he thinks Steve’s from, and Steve suspects if his vestments and the crests embroidered to them weren’t enough, his lack of knowledge would be—his people have been blessed in many ways, and live privileged lives on the whole, most especially his family, in comparison to their neighbors.

“But here is the only perch for the span of tens of villages,” the man points out; “and they’ve not been left untouched for so long.”

Right. Of course.

“You’re from a neighboring town?”

“One word for it,” the man shrugs, in such a way now that it shivers through his unruly curls; “and you’re from Hawkins, I gather.”

Right. Unsubtle to the bone it seems, indeed.

“For the whole of my life I can say I know only one thing about your home,” the man takes Steve grimace as the confirmation that it is; “and it’s how they share notoriously little to know.”

Steve chews at his lip, knows the failings his family’s rule has had for the people without and without their borders. Has tried to find ways to help without power of his own in the order of things.

“I always wished to see other lands, even the nearest of them,” Steve finally lands on something to say; “I tried to convince my parents, but—”

“Parents?”

It might be the first time his new…friend? Looks properly halted.

“Son and heir,” Steve points to himself with a weary sort of smirk, the whole thing laughable, really; “the tribute has to be valuable, right? I thought upon seeing so little here, I could offer from our own troves before the end, as appeasement but,” Steve sighs, suddenly drained, only now realizing, now that the option eludes him, just how heavily he was counting on the option of at least trying to bargain with the dragon, appealing to its intellect and far more, its love of treasure.

“But if it’s as you say, I may have much less by way of offering at all.”

There’s an instant sort of chill that fills him as he starts to acclimate to the reality that he’s going to die, and soon, and there truly is not hope for an escape. He—

“Let me assure you,” the man’s hand startles Steve, battles and swiftly overcomes the chill in him as it wraps tight around Steve’s wrist, his voice following Steve’s own almost without break, a cutting finality to it, definitiveness in his tone and his eyes alike once Steve meets them—and once Steve meets them, the not-quite-stranger doesn’t let him look away.

Magnetic.

“Based on what I have seen?” and the words could be casual, but the low rumble they’re spoken with is anything but:

“You could walk here wholly empty handed, and no dragon worth their flame would turn you away as unworthy.”

Steve feels less his cheeks, and more his whole body, inside and out, flush bright and there’s no light to hide from, save from the one shimmering in the gaze locked into his own.

And Steve, for all his postures of pride: this time?

He has no desire to hide the way he flushes, never mind the way he shivers, if it means trying to evade those eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Incidentally, it’s too late for the other man to turn back, though he clearly knows these woods so well. Steve insists that he stays.

Not for any ulterior motives, of course.

The man argues, if almost for show alone, but agrees on one condition: they neither of them have bedding. The other man apparently hadn’t planned to be out past the hour for rest, is only stuck because of Steve and Steve—

Steve has a pack but he…he presumed he’d either be dead and his offerings deemed fitting, or the dragon would keep him as the dragon desired, bedding or clothing or neither, until the dragon was satisfied.

And then, again: he’d be dead.

It is unthinkable to take the meager blankets Steve can see in a corner, not without permission; not from a dragon, so. The other man is asking to…lie close.

And Steve is not opposed. The man is almost…surreally exquisite, especially in the passing moonlight. His angles are…particular. Alluring. They steal the breath in Steve’s chest a little, long before they’ve earned the right.

“It feels more than overdue now to ask your name,” Steve whispers, not that it’s necessary. Not that there’s anyone to hear.

“Eddie,” the man whispers back, his voice so warm and almost enveloping, like an embrace in itself and Steve feels less absurd for speaking so soft, so privately.

Nearly intimate.

Good gods, now Steve is being absurd and should feel it to his bones. He deserves to suffer the uncomfortable twist of embarrassment it leaves in stomach, at this rate.

“Steve,” he manages to say low enough that his mortification isn’t audible.

But then:

“That is a beautiful name, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, and he’s shimmied closer somehow while Steve was stuck in his shame-spiral for being the too quick to show his cards, even to himself in his own head.

“Nothing special to it,” Steve mutters, demurs a little but in a coquettish way, doesn’t even mean to. Just…there’s an energy between them now, and Steve’s primed to match it.

“Isn’t there?” Eddie asks, heated and near in a way that dances up Steve’s spine:

“I would hesitate to be so sure.”

Again, Steve doesn’t mean to, or plan to, when he rolls further into Eddie’s frame where they’re laid together, already so close, now nearly in each other’s arms.

He doesn’t mean to, and yet: his arms are gathered close against the chest of a man he doesn’t know, and yet feels…more comfortable next to than any body he’s pressed against in his life.

And there have been fair few.

“You’re so warm,” Steve mouths more than anything, lips dragging on this half-stranger’s neck by accident, because it could be nothing save an accident that Steve now knows that Eddie’s skin tastes of salt and smoked cinnamon sticks and the air in the forrest at night: elemental, somehow. Necessary.

Only by accident would Steve torture himself this way.

“I’d keep you warm always,” Steve hears as the world blurs soft to black, the phantom sensation of arms curling around him, welcoming him to sleep—the whole of it odd in every way because he hadn’t spoken loud enough to be heard, really, even so close, and to read his words from the drag of his mouth to flesh was of course impossible.

“To the end of the Age and beyond if I could,” the words drift blissful, wistful like an invitation into sleep: “if you’d let me.”

So of course: it must have been a dream.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daybreak finds them entangled.

Steve…freezes, as if he didn’t feel snug and perfectly warm wrapped up so close. He weighs the merits of bolting, and making apologies after the fact, against trying to extricate himself without rousing his companion, versus—

“Good morning, sweetness.”

Steve stills somehow further, feels his face heat yet again and yet this time, despite the dark of the cave, he’s…crushed ever so pleasantly against the bare smooth planes of a chest that…shouldn’t be bare, should it, because they moved together close for heat against the chill and for certain it is past dawn but it is still nowhere near warm enough for—

“Did you sleep well?”

Steve groans, which only leads him to burrowing further into the unavoidably welcoming give of Eddie’s chest, lean but strong, Steve can tell, much like he can feel as much as hear the rumbling laughter that cascades through that chest: so much like an invitation to sink into the chest and the sound alike, to never be singular, to never be cold.

What a ridiculous notion.

But then lips are unmistakably pressed to the crown of Steve’s head, not even in passing, no: they linger. They…feel right.

Steve wants for them to be right until the day he dies—

Well. That might actually be possible, or close enough for what he’s earned in this world.

The irony.

Eddie takes to the hunt—the reason he was in the woods to find Steve in the first place, apparently; he says his bow and knives are just down toward the ravine, which Steve vaguely knows but not well, too close to the borders of other lands.

“Don’t fret, though,” and this time the lips press to the low half of Steve’s cheek, affection that does not press its advantage but makes it desires clear, too close to Steve mouth to be anything less.

Steve…is unsure what to make of that. Because he cannot make what he thinks of first; he cannot possibly follow that thread in his own mind—increasingly in his own chest.

“I’ll find you, if you get lost again.”

As if Steve will wander, would risk missing his dragon captor’s return, to even consider one misstep to unintentionally enrage his looming executioner, to even consider missing a single instant in the meantime with this man—

But the glinting smile that man shoots Steve’s way as he strides out the yawning opening in the rocks, its glinting like stardust and warm radiance that fills Steve’s veins then spills over and seeps into his marrow:

Steve doesn’t think that man actually meant getting lost that way.

And what on earth is he supposed to make of that, save everything that he can’t have; that cannot be?

Though, in fairness: it would be on brand. Steven Harrington of Hawkins.

Falling hard and fast and more real than ever before, mere hours before he leaves the mortal coil.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re anxious.”

Steve knows now that his dreams were realty, last night. The words, the arms.

He is awake in them now after they eat what Eddie’s secured for them, cooked over a fire perfectly pitched outside the mouth of the cave, its warmth not insufficient as they’d eaten in pleasant company together.

Not insufficient at all. Just not this chest; these arms.

And now they are both of them bare to the waist, knowingly and happily curled into one another, and Steve feels on one hand boneless, weightless, inexplicably held and kept beyond the physical in the embrace of a man he barely knows and yet feels…close to. Something-he-cannot-bring-himself-to-say-at-first sight, like in the fairy stories.

But that man’s palm is splayed across Steve’s chest; can feel the birds’ wings of his heartbeat at first stroke.

For the first time in Steve’s life, it doesn’t feel like a weakness he’s caught out on; with Eddie nuzzling at his hair, Steve doesn’t hesitate to speak his fear with a heavy sigh:

“You said you’ve dealt with dragons.”

“Time to time,” Eddie hums, presses his lips to Steve’s scalp like reassurance.

“How will it happen?” Steve whispers shakily, but for the first time in his entire life, he shakes into someone who seems to care, against all reason; who holds tighter to him for needing rather than casting him away.

“I mean, I know,” Steve licks his lips; “I know what will happen, just,” and he can’t quite finish, chokes around his words. Eddie moves closer against him, under the weight of Steve’s frame, maneuvers them so that he can tilt his head just so to kiss down Steve’s jaw while still holding him close; ever closer.

“Well,” Eddie pecks against the peak of Steve’s cheekbone before moving down, all the while massaging circles against Steve’s chest; “a town sends their most valued,” and he sucks a little the, against Steve’s jawline; “but some towns have less to pick from,” and then he finds Steve’s pulse point and suckles there with real feeling until Steve may be terrified, but he’s simultaneously soft clay in a beautiful man’s hands, under a beautiful man’s mouth.

“A dragon is not a mindless beast,” Eddie adds after Steve can feel he’s been well and thoroughly bruised.

“I’ve always heard they’re very smart,” Steve breathes, maybe nods, mostly just savors Eddie’s heat, his nearness, how he touches Steve like he has value; like Steve has value to him, and what a thing to feel, to want, to possibly hold, even for these stolen moments; “it’s how they tell if you send them less than they’re owed.”

Because of course Steve knows the stories. Steve can remember countless tales of horrific ends for villages, towns, whole kingdoms even, razed for being so haughty and foolish as to try and swindle a dragon—perhaps embellished to encourage children’s behavior, but. The bones of the narrative fit the oft-smoldering evidence often enough, so far as Steve could tell in the proper histories.

“Not owed,” Eddie corrects, firmly but somehow also gently, his capacity for dynamism an oddly comforting thing, so human and forgiving of overstepping boundaries so freely as to maybe not even draw any to begin with, at complete odds with Steve’s entire life; “not how most people think, at least.”

Eddie flip Steve over gently, firmly again, settles them chest to chest, one atop the other as Steve looks down at him, feels his heartbeat crash against Eddie’s own closer than ought to be felt, like their ribs clear way for the two of them, for whatever they could be, and Steve wonders if part of why his heart is racing so is for the loss of the possibility that rushes through him, that swells between them in every moment—something that grows in every moment, every look and touch and blink, that expands effervescent and filled with so much without any knowledge that there is not space to hold it, that what time they have is borrowed at best.

Steve thinks maybe; his sick heart for it could be railing where the rest of him is fixated on etching every one of those looks and blinks and touches into his bones so that they may be among the last parts of him to leave the earth.

“A dragon, above most things, has a particularly keen sense to know precisely where value lies,” Eddie’s explaining again, his hand now still, pressed against Steve’s heart akin to a shield, or a safe-hold. “And how.”

Steve ponder that for a moment before he meets Eddie’s eyes, having felt them heavy and molten upon him with new fire before taking them in for all that they are: brilliance.

Blinding.

Steve leans as Eddie arches and they meet in between to press their lips together after what feels an eternity and an instant of living in a world where they didn’t taste one another in such a way as to drink their fill. As to breathe each other’s breath.

So as to tease and cherish deep, to tongue against the very heart.

And there Steve makes certain, before he loses himself wholly to sensation:

Looks. Touches. Blinks. Carved into his bones, but first.

First he’ll gild them in every single kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

They transition fully into lovers in a seamless fashion, insatiable like Steve’s never known it. Eddie never keeps him wanting, gives selflessly and Steve does all that he can to reciprocate and more, because Eddie is everything, of that Steve is certain, and therefore he deserves no less.

He also seems dead set on making sure that they are posed as equals. That to lavish one another with affections as much as to ravish each other endless never unbalances one way or the other. Wherever Steve seeks to give more where Eddie should have it, Eddie turns the tables to takes Steve apart so that all he knows is tingly euphoria. A happiness he’s never felt, didn’t quite believe could exist.

Yet here he is. Here they are.

Steve smiles more than he remembers, playful and ravenous and overflowing with feeling, and Eddie doesn’t rise to meet his enthusiasm: he’s already there, matched with him and ecstatic to entwine. It’s a heady thing, addictive and overwhelming and a gift, Steve thinks: maybe the universe forgive him for doing less to stop harm and deprivation in his home, for wishing to help more and acting where he could even if it wasn’t enough. Maybe he gets this sliver of heaven out of pity for what’s to come.

He will take it with open arms. He will welcome it. He will make himself of it until there is not Steve that exists outside of it.

But it cannot overcome the inevitable, in its impending, suffocating weight.

Come the sixth day like this—the sixth night like this—something in Steve gives way. Existing on the precipice of life and death with no telling of when the hammer with strike finally takes too much of a toll, and his nerves betray him.

“Likely they are hunting, it can take many days, weeks even I’m told,” Eddie tries to console him as he shakes, can’t even sob, like his body can’t coordinate even that much to work properly, too distraught are pieces of him he’s flooded with pleasure but finally could no longer be denied, fed on his wonderment and picked until it cracked enough for his fears to bleed through. “But if you are still so anxious we could, or, I could try and look for some clue as to where it’s gone?” Eddie offers carefully, holding Steve together as he does his utmost to shudder out of his skin. “And you can stay here, in case it returns?”

The only thing Steve can do then is shake his head until it hurts, until he’s dizzy with his own vehement denial: it’s the first things that’s properly matched, body to feeling.

It’s fitting that way.

“I,” Steve starts, just voice barely a scratch as Eddie reaches, tips his chin upward and cups his face so delicate:

“What, angel?”

Steve blinks at him—takes him in, presses down to pain as he draws it, brands it onto his skeleton to be remembered, all the tangled but powerfulfeelings he has for this man so fast, so strong.

For this man, for all he feels: Steve makes himself speak what’s heavy and true and real in his galloping heart:

“I have no intention of reneging my duties,” he rasps, holds on to Eddie as tightly as he can, as if maybe their bones could brand one’s another and fuse into one.

“But until no choice is left, I,” Steve chokes, and his eyes burn as he holds Eddie’s gaze, lifts Eddie’s hand away from his cheek and over to his lips to press all his hopeless hopes against Eddie’s palms:

“I don’t want to be out of your sight, nor you taken from mine.”

The tear that escapes him then is caught by Eddie’s thumb. Adoringly.

Each that follows is lost between Eddie’s lips; might belong to them both.

Steve thinks he can believe that much—in these fleeting, sacred moment—to be true.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dragon has still not appeared, and Steve has since collected himself for the most part, with Eddie ready to brace him steady when he starts to falter. It’s a wild novel thing, to be supported this way. To be cared for.

With such care, comes perception. For better or worse.

“What troubles you, beloved?” Eddie eyes him knowingly, a level of sight straight through to Steve’s soul that should not be fathomable in a lifetime, let alone a week’s time.

“My own mind,” Steve admits freely, unwilling any longer—if he ever had been—to hide from Eddie, unsure what the point would be even if he desired to: “it is cowardly, and selfish.”

“I doubt that,” Eddie catches Steve’s jawbone with a single finger, playful, endearing: but clear in its pointed redirection of Steve’s gaze, and his disparagement of his own thoughts:

“I would doubt that quite strongly, in fact.”

Steve lets Eddie touch prompt him to a kiss, as if he needs coaxing before he leans into the crook of Eddie’s neck and breathes him in: the best savours of the ground and sky.

“I would not run from my fate, here,” Steve says, not wholly to remind himself but, not without that purpose at hand; “save that it feels like my fate is…”

And he slides his hand to Eddie’s chest, hopes it speaks for him where he doesn’t know words for the depth and breadth and weight of these feelings; Eddie’s hand covers his, automatic, and he knows he’s understood.

“I wish not to be parted from you, now that I’ve found you,” Steve whispers, swallows hard, then looks Eddie in the eyes, speaks straight to the soul in them so that he is not misread, or underestimated in the weight of his own words, now:

“I think that I may be in love with you.”

And he’s never been before. He’s believed it may be love, but: no. No, it was never love before.

If ever it was love: it is this.

“Oh my precious one,” Eddie pets his hair and kisses after his own touch: “I don’t think that I’m in love with you,” and Steve stiffens only for the instant Eddie leaves between those words, and dipping down to Steve’s ear to exhale with feeling:

“I know it.”

How it is possible to die brokenhearted and happier than he’d ever dreamed, Steve doesn’t know.

But he’s about to serve as object lesson, in just days.

Maybe less.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Know that when,” Steve is speaking to the cracks in the rock that peek at the night sky as he speaks, Eddie on his chest like a blanket, save so much better; “when it happens,mwhen it devours me whole or takes me in pieces,” and his voice catches, but he remains resolute; “it will know you in every inch of me,” and he cups Eddie closer to him then, holds him against the thunderous roar of his pulse.

“My heart is full of you, and it will taste only of devotion,” Steve near-hisses for the fervor in him. “You’ll be the last bit of me known to the world.”

“Never.”

The growl that comes from the body that curls around him, protective, possessive, beloved in a way and to a magnitude Steve didn’t know he could feel before now: the venom in it makes it clear that it’s not a refutation of Steve’s declaration for the sentiment.

It’s a refutation to the cosmos itself.

“I would never allow it,” Eddie bites out, pressing closer to Steve, to his heart: “you will not be forfeit to some dragon,” and oh, but this man Steve loves is wild with his passion, foolhardy and yet all the more lovable for it.

“I would fight with all that I am to protect you,” he vows, presses his lips to Steve’s chest and speaks there like he means well and truly to means to tell Steve to the heart of him this sole, unshakeable truth: “and should somehow I lose the battle, it could only be because there is nothing of me left to fight.”

And for the first time, in all his life: Steve clings to something, someone, he’d happily rip his beating heart out to protect.

And that—he realizes in a single world-rewriting instant—he fears the loss of more than any other thing.

Any. Other. Thing.

~~~~~~~~~~

They don’t speak of it, or of a choice to be made when the time does come: Steve thinks maybe that’s the only way they manage at all, really, is to simply hold it between them in those last days. Known. Seen.

Loved.

And feared.

But always together. Always so close, in every way.

Until the stasis breaks.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes into the afternoon, innocuous. Steve’s stopped counting how many days they’ve stolen together.

“I must leave, my darling.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying to understand him. He watches as Eddie hurries to gather both of Steve’s hands, to bring them to his lips.

“Only for a short while,” he murmurs between Steve’s fingers, kisses at his knuckles with apology, and with heartsickness thick between his breaths: “barely a moment,” and his breath is short, thin, like the thought of leaving hurts.

And Steve…Steve has been in love for the first time, with the perfect match to his very soul. Unthinkable, but undeniable.

But it hasn’t made him wholly blind.

He means to press, to see if the slight little inklings he’s had every so often hold any weight, point in any direction of significance, means to ask just a simple thing, but then Eddie’s expression breaks open, a miasma of emotion spilling forth as his breath catches, monumental on a sob and he takes the hands at his lips and instead uses them to bury his face.

“Oh, my Steve,” he breathes, and all Steve can really see are the heaving lifts of his shoulders, and the way his curls fall a little like a monsoon.

“I am sorry,” Eddie whispers into Steve hands and Steve feels dampness there, and oh. No.

Not from Eddie. Not for whatever this is. Steve can think of nothing, save Eddie leaving for good before the end, that he should be moved to apologize for. And even that Steve would forgive.

Because Steve loves him.

“Why?” Steve asks, incredulous, his own half-formed ideas to seek to know gone at the sight of his beloved in distress. “What reason on earth do you have to be sorry, you said,” and Steve halts, wonders if that’s the catch, and tries not to falter without reason, tries to stand tall: “only a moment,” and that is what Eddie said, he said only a—

“I lied.”

Steve does to falter.

He starts to fracture and fall entirely. Because what, what all was a lie, was it all a lie, he—

He doesn’t know if he can breathe. He’s never lost his heart before. But he imagines that if death is still waiting for him, and he’ll face it alone: it’s what he’d planed for. What he’s prepared for from the start.

He knows how to be alone. It has to hurt less, than losing his heart now.

It will have to hurt less, at the very end, if it comes to him without a heart in his breast.

“It was worth every second, no matter that it must end, in joy or heartbreak,” Steve finds himself saying, and if his tone rings hollow, it’s only because his heart’s already leaking from him, already half-gone: he means it with every bit he has left, nonetheless.

“You are the moon, pulling me close,” he turns his hands so his palms line to Eddie’s; “the sun wrapping me in warmth,” and he folds their fingers together, clutches tight one last time, greedy as anything:

“You have been the greatest gift at the end of all I’ll ever know.” And that is the truth, that is the last words and final rites written on his bones. “Because of you, I will die fulfilled in ways I didn’t realize I was lacking.”

And then there’s just one thing, because Steve, Steve needs to say this part, he doesn’t think he’s said this part yet:

“Thank you.”

He means it.

But Eddie only holds onto him harder, painfully but it’s perfection; only shakes his head over and over before he finally rasps, barely audible:

“You misunderstand.”

Steve leans closer to hear him, to feel him, to know his warmth in the lat moments that might be left. He wants to understand. He doesn’t want the end to be anything but clear.

Even if it hurts.

“I have lied,” Eddie swallows hard; “but you misunderstand for what.”

Steve…still misunderstands.

“You have been my moon,” Eddie nearly moans, his head nuzzling into Steve’s hands, his hold, with nothing short of desperation:“you have been the sun since the first revelation when I was taught as barely a hatchling that my kind were born of suns, made from fire.”

And that. It’s been those small things: some dragon. Not owed. No dragon would find him unworthy.

The ego to presume.

This is no longer a small thing, spoken now.

“You stole my heart straight away, and I gave it freely but,” Eddie hiccups the slightest bit; “I only grow in relishing that of all the souls in all the worlds, yours has welcomed mine,” and he sniffles, by every god and power in all the worlds—

“You are a privilege.”

And oh, oh, but by every god and power: Steve loves him.

“And you have a dragon’s heart now, no matter how you choose to use it, to keep or reject it,” foolish words Eddie speaks so messy, so rushed and ragged, so ripped out from him visceral and slick with feeling: “and your end will be my end,” and his lips brush Steve’s hands, kiss the pulse on both his wrists:

“And either that will be unmeasurable ages hence,” and his breath catches, and Steve only wants for him to look up, just look up, because he’s said it without saying now, hasn’t he, muddled and frantic and so human, to say he’s anything but as he admits to the thing he thinks he needs to offer apology for.

“Or,” he trips over the next words, but they’re so sodden with candor, the blood in his veins:

“Or my heart may turn ash if you leave but,” and he brings the heels of both Steve’s hands to his mouth and kisses, speaks into them worshipfully:

“Your life will go on as a mortal’s, once I’ve—”

“You’ve given your heart?”

Because Steve had suspicions. Of why Eddie said certain things, certain ways. How warm he was. How strong and even and…ancient the beating of his heart resonated beneath Steve’s ear, his touch, like it radiated heat as a sun in itself.

“Of course,” Eddie’s head snaps up, like he’s offended at any suggestion to the contrary; “almost immediately.”

He blinks; he forgets himself. There’s a lid to his starburst eyes that closes unlike Steve’s, the opposite direction, almost invisible.

But Steve’s watching. Steve doesn’t blink once, cannot miss this.

Cannot pause what he writes into his bones because even if he plans for nothing less than ages unmeasurable, now, he wants this written on the bones that come in the end.

Whenever the end stretches out to.

“And if it’s ill received,” Steve asks slowly, his brows pinching as he picks through the implications of this part: “you—”

“Wither, slowly,” Eddie says, far too matter-of-fact for Steve’s liking, or willingness to stand: “but the end comes, yes.”

“Eddie,” Steve scolds, and Eddie flinches, thinks he’s been caught, been known and revealed now and in so being is anything but wanted with all of Steve’s being.

There is a tiny part of Steve that’s grateful for his foolishness: it makes Steve feel less alone, to be swept so by a love this vast.

“You are the dearest treasure I’ve ever known,” Eddie whispers, but it’s a pleading thing, something even Steve can tell doesn’t feel as if it had a hope to grasp; “if you let me keep you I would hold you closer than all things. To give a dragon’s heart means to place whatever holds it closer than the heart itself ever learned to rest on its own,” and Eddie gathers Steve’s hands again to his chest, stacks them, presses so very hard.

The life in him is a sobering thing. The idea that Steve holds this power somehow in his hands, literally and otherwise, is…staggering.

No less then amazing.

“You are my single desire, but more,” Eddie breathes; “you are my single care, my sole concern,” “my only.”

“Why do you leave, then?”

And Eddie stills. Pulls back only so much as to weigh what he sees in Steve’s face, Steve’s eyes—what Steve sees in his is clear: Eddie didn’t think he’d get to this part. He thought Steve would balk at learning his lover was something more than mere human.

Specifics aside, Steve could have told anyone that from the night that they met.

And so Eddie, bowled over by the shock of the fact that Steve still holds to him, does not waver, seems to speak unvarnished when he answers:

“The things you have shared,” and Steve knows without expansion what Eddie means: tales of home, of his family, of his parents, of how he came to be here, pledged as sacrifice for the good of his town, whispered in the dark as they watched the stars move slow; “I can bear it no longer, my darling.”

And Eddie straightens further then, and Steve sees what he dismissed as the play of the light: the glow in Eddie’s eyes unmistakable as something other, something from within.

“I demand the most valued,” Eddie’s words come out in a hiss, shape even as he hesitates, leaves every moment for Steve to pull away should his touch be unwanted as he reaches to brush Steve’s hair from his face.

“You are that and more to me and yet,” and he shakes his head, and it’s so strange still to be marveled at this way: unbridled and unashamed.

“You said it yourself, valuable,” Eddie nearly spits the word, like a poison he seeks to eke out; “and yet I believe that I said something different.”

Steve frowns, tries to put together the pieces but then his face is framed in long fingers that span the whole of him, fittingly so, as Eddie looks deed in his eyes and says with force and feeling:

“Valued,” he emphasizes with a kiss; “beloved,” and another, and Steve cannot help but smile into it just the slightest bit, his heart soaring as the other pieces—borrowed time and impending ends and forevers in view all at once rearranging into what he thinks might be an always with this man who’s more than a man when he speaks against Steve’s mouth:

“Precious beyond all else and others.”

He pulls back, and marvels more, then narrows his eyes in a way Steve’s never seen, pupils contracting inward from the sides into slits.

“You are mine,” Eddie growls; “but the demands we make are not idle, and they did not value you as you deserved,” Eddie scowls, and Steve sees it now, where he’s going, what he’s doing:

“And they thought it acceptable to send you to me as their most valued, believing they sent you to your death?” Eddie seethes:

“It cannot go unpunished.”

Steve…sees it. Understands, now.

It does not hurt, the idea of losing people who were family only in name, especially not to the man before him, who is all that family should mean, could mean, will mean.

Always, now.

“The villagers are innocents, please,” Steve whispers, and Eddie cups his cheek, so lovingly it aches.

“Fret not,” he says with that warmth that Steve’s melted in from the very start; “I know who deserves my ire.” His expression sours, hardens:

“And they will know their hard-earned consequences.”

Eddie kisses Steve with a kind of devotion bigger than the sky somehow, and it’s only because Steve’s reeling to get his footing back that he trails behind Eddie and not at his side as he makes to depart.

“Please do not follow me, beloved,” he calls over his shoulder, not breaking his pace; “I do not wish you to see-“

“I will stay,” Steve answers, like the words were waiting on this tongue of this very moment: “if.”

Eddie stills; turns.

“If?”

“You promise to return with all haste,” Steve reaches him quick and is the one who kisses with all that he knows, all that he can imagine, all that he holds inside of himself and shares already with Eddie uninhibited; “I will be cold without you.”

And that makes Eddie soften; smile as he promises:

“Done.”

“And,” Steve adds, pulling away from Eddie’s lips to look him straight on as Eddie’s brow quirks in question:

“And?”

“Change for me.”

And Eddie, for once, is wholly dumbfounded. Speechless.

It’s quite a feat to behold.

“You,” he stammers; “you wish to see,” he shakes his head, disbelieving; “beloved, it is not, I am,” and oh, oh: Steve did not expect this part: “we are cast as fearsome creatures for good reason.”

He is wary. He is cautious. He thinks himself the monster. He wants to hide this part from Steve.

But Steve will have nothing hidden between them, least of all this: the whole of who his love is.

“I do not fear you, I could not,” Steve pledges in truth; “and any creature with your heart, who has captured my soul,” Steve grabs Eddie’s shoulders and draws him in, bows those foreheads into one another:

“You could never be anything short of exquisite. Breathtakingly so.”

Eddies breathing is hitched, stuttering. Steve wants to cry for the way he is surprised. Wants to mourn for whatever hurt him to make him this cautious, this stunned by Steve’s love: unconditional.

Undying, now that it’s possible to give as such, and in truth.

And Steve waits, watches him, stares patient until Eddie sighs deeply, steps back far and then closes his eyes and…becomes.

Larger, of course. The wings are a feat. The talons are less a surprise from his spindly fingers.

He’s, he is…

“You are,” Steve reaches, waits until Eddie comes to him, welcomes his touch this way and to feel him, smooth scale not so unlike the chest bare against him in the night—warmth and safety and all that is right:

“Magnificent. And I would know you,” Steve tells him, seeks his gaze as he speaks from the very core of his being: “even if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

He steps closer, waits for Eddie to be curious enough to bow his head low so Steve can mimic how they’d stood, forehead pressed just moments before.

“These unfathomable eyes,” he whispers between them, and smiles at how those eyes fall closed in something like relief, like comfort after laying down a heavy burden as Steve reaches for the soft underbelly in lighter scales against the charcoal of the rest of his beloved’s form:

“The might of this heart,” and he presses, and yes, exactly as he knew he’d find: thunderous. Could part seas, reshape the globe, stir the stars.

And it’s Steve’s. So he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips above the breathing and breathe out:

“Unmistakable, my darling.”

When he pulls back those eyes truly are just the same: they wonder. They marvel.

At Steve. Just Steve.

It’s intoxicating.

“Do what must be done,” Steve nuzzles at the side of Eddie’s face, pulls his snout to his shoulder so he can kiss at what he supposes is something of a cheek, and then he pulls back, lets go.

But only their bodies. Nothing more. Never anything more. Not ever again.

“Then come home to me.”

Steve could be wrong, or just wishful, but he thinks Eddie glows from within through the whole of himself, and not just his eyes, as he takes flight and shoots like the star Steve always saw inside him, up into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s not long. It’s just as Eddie promised.

After everything, Steve hadn’t worried at all that it would be anything else.

“It was painless,” is what Eddie says as he walks back into the cave, a man again; “and it was for the sake of justice overdue,” as if he must explain. Or seek forgiveness.

Steve pulls him in and kisses him until he’s breathless as an answer for both concerns.

“What now?” he can’t help but ask. He is still more in love than he can breathe through. Will live and die exactly that way for time innumerable.

“You wish to be here, with me?” Eddie asks, almost hesitant; seeking.“You do not feel indebted, or, or coerced? Or tricked or held by force or—”

Steve grins at the babbling, the nervous rambles. To think they’re because of him.

It might just give him an absolutely unbearable ego of his own if it’s to be the norm forevermore.

“Love,” Steve presses a single raised finger to the missile of Eddie’s lips, watches as he adorable crosses his eyes to follow its trajectory.

“You are all that I have imagined and never thought to find.” And it really is as simple and as unthinkable as that, in the end. Or the beginning. “The only way I would be anywhere but your side is to be torn from it, or sent away.”

Eddie growls at the first suggestion, and huffs in pure offense at the suggestion of the second as he reaches and pulls Steve flush to his body: warm, warm, warm.

Steve’s heart flutters against him, reminding him that he owns it wholly.

Eddie’s drums in protective answer, welcoming as much as seeking to leap into Steve’s chest on the same promise, the same pledge as he murmurs into Steve’s lips:

“You still misestimate what it means to be loved by a dragon,” and drags his mouth against Steve’s bottom lips, a little wanton even as his words carry the weight of the universe entire:

“This,” and he clutches Steve’s closer still, so as to not be mistaken; “is for as much of eternity as is for us to grasp.”

It is not sacrifice at all to kiss the man, to love the dragon, in front of him, now.

And for the rest of time ahead.

For @a-little-unsteddie, who requested the quote 'Magic' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher

divider credit here

💫 ao3 link here

[serene-sky-kid]

hey! here I am to spill long texts again, because this is my blog and I love to talk about my ocs. First, the drawings, I really liked how they turned out, the brush helped a lot because it felt very light, I will probably paint these drawings in the future.

Orion and Berk, both adopted sons of Reah…

I remember I have mentioned a few times the staff Orion has and the bells on it. Here it is designed, there is not much to say, the staff does not sound unless you imbue it with light, its sound depends on the bells attached to its side and serves to attract the creatures of light, it is a tool used for migrations. I've changed the orion mask again, but I still haven't decided its colors or if I should leave it like this, I think it looks cool anyway.

Regarding Berk, I've thought more about him, now he has a tail! in the end I've come up with the idea that he has some kind of memory problem, he just has the personality of a golden retriever and it makes him incredibly childish. He forgets where he goes, he forgets what he was doing sometimes, he forgets things he's supposed to know how to do, sometimes he forgets people, but he doesn't feel particularly sad about any of it, it's like “oh, yeah that's right!” and then he'll remember again just by having something to put him back on course of what he forgot. Everything about him is a bit of a blur even his moth days, but he's really happy because he has orion, Reah and Taro to help him. Fun fact, berk is an excellent chef, but he always forgets so he has a recipe book.

[more-hysteria-things]

BEGGING FOR SOME LIKE JACK FLUFF FROM LIKE A ROUGH DAY ON SET AND HIM JUST BEING SWEET TO US!! (my first scenario🥳)

ROUGH DAY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jack champion x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s one of those days on set, and jack is not having it. even worse that it’s his birthday, the day when it’s supposed to be fun and carefree. then, you come along to truly show how much he means to you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none! just tooth rotting fluff :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,224

𝐚𝐮𝐭��𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: FIRST JACK FIC LFG.

also, since this is my other account for non-sturniolo fics i’m still putting the same tag list. if you would like to not get tagged for this blog, just let me know!

shoutout to bbg @venusbabysblog for helping me get started🥹

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 blessing. it’s a job where you have great opportunities to meet amazing people and be in hit films, but sometimes it’s a struggle. jack opens the door to his trailer with a clenched jaw, shutting the door as he looks around. his eyebrows twitch in confusion, noticing how you’re not in sight.

your boyfriend loves to bring you along to wherever he goes for filming. one reason being that he honestly can’t live without you, but also because you’re his biggest fan and will support him through anything. usually, you’d be watching him act from afar or you’d be waiting in his trailer by watching TV or keeping yourself occupied in general. however, you’re nowhere to be seen.

he’s on a long break until later tonight, which annoys him. he just wants this day to be over. “y/n?” he calls out, peeking his head into the small bedroom. alas, you’re not there.

alarms start to go off in his head, although it’s silly. you can’t really go anywhere, but since you’re not in your usual spot, the caring boyfriend in him makes him worry that something bad has happened. especially since you didn’t text him that you were going somewhere or anything.

then, a giggle is heard along with the opening of his trailer door, and he turns around to face the noise. he takes a small sigh of relief when he sees you beaming from ear to ear holding a present bag.

while in the middle of a scene, jack texted you about the day he’s having—lines he couldn’t nail, and a director who seemed impossible to please. you frown slightly when you see his semi-disgruntled face, shuffling over to him excitedly to wrap your arms around his body in an embrace he desperately needs. he exhales deeply, bends down to nuzzle his face into your neck, and kisses it softly.

“sorry, i was hoping i’d be back before you were, but your mom and i got stuck in traffic,” you say in his chest before pulling away after long seconds. trying to make the atmosphere more positive, you smile and extend your arm with the bag in hand. “happy birthday!”

the smallest smile appears on his face, grabbing your hand to head over to the leather couch to sit down. he places the bag onto the floor, removing the tissue inside of it to reveal his presents. his eyes widen in surprise, seeing more than he thought you’d get him. “you didn’t have to do all of this...” he says, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

he pulls out the first thing that sits on top of the rest, which is a homemade birthday card out of construction paper in his favorite color. he lets out a chuckle as he looks at the front of it, seeing two drawn stick figures that are supposed to be you and him holding hands with the title in big writing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY •ᴗ•

opening the card, there’s a bunch of words scribbled on the right side.

jack,

*queue song* happy birthday to you!

i am so incredibly proud of you watching the way you chase your dreams. here’s to many more birthdays, memories, and quiet moments in between the chaos. no matter how many lights and cameras around, you’ll always just be jack to me. the one who laughs too loud, holds me close, and somehow manages to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

i’m so grateful to be apart of your story.

always, y/n ❤︎

p.s. like what your name implies, you are indeed a champion.

his heart jumps with joy, closing the note and leaning in to peck you on the nose. your face turns red as you try not to beam with happiness, tilting your head to the bag. “there’s still a lot more.”

he nods, placing the card aside as he grabs a leather journal, specifically personalized for him. the border of it is embroidered with eye-catching detail, his initials JC in big cursive letters in the middle. you know jack sometimes likes to scribble lines down in between takes in a way to remember, or something to put his ideas in for fun. he flips through the pages rapidly, the gust of air flowing on his face as he smells the paper and leather mixed.

you watch his every move, nibbling on your bottom lip excitedly when he pulls out a small, navy blue box. inside of it is a chained necklace with a small pendant of a waxing crescent. the moon phase the day he was born.

scratching the back of your neck nervously, you speak. “this one’s a little girly…” you trail off. “you don’t have to wear it, you can hang it up or something for decoration. i just thought it was pretty.”

he nudges your arm with his elbow. “stop that. it’s beautiful; i love it.”

jack carefully takes it out of the box, undoing the chain and reaching behind his neck to clip it. the length is perfect, and the accessory oddly suits him. “thank you.” he says softly, running his hand over the moon and reaching into the bag once more.

this time, he pulls out two things. another book along with a film camera on top of it tied in ribbon so both items can stick together. while untying it, he notices the scrapbook underneath.

THE STORY OF US…

he glances at you as he starts to look into it. the pages are filled with film photos, ticket stubs, and little mementos from your favorite times together. you’d written little captions under each, capturing inside jokes and sweet moments. it was something he could flip through on hard days.

however, each left page is blank. “you can add to it whenever you have the time. it takes two people to make a love story, you know.” you explain, feeling somewhat cheesy and cringy at the saying, but you mean it.

last but not least, the last few items are snacks. homemade cookies, energy bars, and even a small container of his favorite food.

he feels overwhelmed by all of the gifts but in a good way. nobody has ever shown him this much adoration before, and it’s obvious how much he means to you. “y/n.” your name rolls perfectly off of his tongue, his eyes not leaving the presents now scattered on the couch cushion. “i love it all so much. genuinely, thank you.”

you place your hands on the sides of his neck so he can look at you, kissing him full of love. he cherishes you, and he couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. he’s always so grateful that he met you that time in his hometown. you made his 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘 turn around completely.

“how’d you even do all of this?” he adds, starting to feel dumbfounded about how you did all of this under his nose without him knowing.

“i don’t kiss and tell.” you say with a smirk. “but also with the help of your mom.”

laughing, he grunts as he lays to rest his head on your stomach, your hands finding way into his wavy hair. “i’m so in love with you.” he mumbles, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

best. birthday. ever.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns @starz4star

[sugdenlovesdingle]

can you write a story where Tommy hides a relatively minor injury from buck and when buck finds out he freaks out( angry) but everything turns out okay in the end

"You brought me here? You ratted me out?"

"Dude, look at the state of you. Don't you think your husband of six months would notice?" Eddie said, parking his car in front of Buck and Tommy's house. "I still don't know why you called me instead of him."

"You're a medic! I needed medical help. "

"Yeah, we have these great places called hospitals. You can go there if you need medical help and they give it to you. They can even give you painkillers or numb the area if you need stitches."

Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Enough with the sarcasm, Diaz. You could have brought me to your place. I would have been fine there for a couple of hours until Evan went on shift. I would have had 48 hours to patch myself up and he wouldn't have had to worry." he moved to try and open the passenger door without hurting himself more, but it was yanked open before he could do so.

"Tommy! What the hell happened?" Evan caught him just before he could faceplant onto the pavement.

"It's worse than it looks." Tommy said and then scrunched his face up. "Wait. No. It looks worse than it is." he corrected himself. "Rough landing. It's fine."

"It doesn't look fine. You look like you just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson." Buck said and turned to Eddie. "What happened?"

"I don't know. He just called me and asked if I could pick him up at Harbor." Eddie shrugged. "He wouldn't let me take him to the ER so I cleaned him up best I could with the med kit I keep in my car... but it's not ideal. That's why I texted you, maybe he'll listen to you."

"Traitor." Tommy said, annoyed. "You're supposed to be my friend."

"I am your friend. And I'm also his. And my ankle still hurts on rainy days so I'm not getting in between the two of you again."

"That was years ago!" Buck protested.

"Tell that to my ankle." Eddie replied. "You good with him on your own?"

"We're fine." Tommy said and tried to slam the car door shut while also keeping himself upright and not letting Evan know how much he was hurting.

"Yeah I can handle him. Can you tell Bobby I'm not coming in today? I'll call him later to explain."

"Evan you don't have to stay home to babysit me." Tommy said both both men ignored him.

"Sure. Let me know if you need anything. I can swing by if we have some downtime."

"Thanks." Evan shut the car door and took Tommy inside and deposited him on the sofa. He gently grabbed his chin and turned his head from left to right. "Did Eddie stitch up your eyebrow?"

"Yeah... I told him to just stick a bandage on it but he insisted. It's fine."

"You keep telling yourself that." Evan told him and sat down on the coffee table in front of him, looking him up and down, trying to figure out if he had any other injuries. "Want to tell me what happened? Without using the word fine?"

Tommy took a deep breath and tried to hide the wince when he did. Evan just raised an eyebrow at him.

"The new probie. I shouldn't have left him fly in this weather."

"He crashed?"

"No, no crash. Just a rough landing. We got knocked around a little. it's f- not so bad."

"You're going to be black and blue in a couple of hours. Have you taken anything for the pain?" Buck asked, accepting he wasn't going to get a more detailed answer right now.

"I was going to get something from the place near Eddie's house. Before he ratted me out and drove me here."

Buck rolled his eyes and got up.

"You're impossible, you know that? I'm getting you some ibuprofen." he gently kissed the top of Tommy's head. "You're lucky I love you."

----

send me prompts and I'll write you a ficlet!

[webslingingslasher]

i hope work gets better<3 how's frat!peter doing today😚

frat!peter is struggling today and here’s why::

peter isn’t sure what went down tonight but you’re in his bed. any other time it would be a celebration but since it’s been a few months since you’ve been there, his head is spinning.

‘um, hello?’ it goes unanswered. it’s not surprising, it’s almost three in the morning and you look asleep.

peter doesn’t know what to do but he’s tired. you wouldn’t sleep in his room without knowing there was a chance of him finding you and crawling in next to you, right?

right?

‘i’m gonna sleep in here too so if you have a problem with it…’

fuck it. he strips to his boxers and gets into bed as quietly as he can, molding around you and doing his best to keep his own space. it’s hard when he joined you while you’re star fishing.

peter gently tugs at the blanket, keeping an eye on your face for any changes. escaping into the warmth, peter hears you let out a quiet hum. he’s scared to breathe, scooting until his back is barely hanging over the edge of the bed.

you hitch your side of the blanket over your shoulder and roll to your back. peter wasn’t quick enough and you land on his arm, your face scrunches and it’s all over. licking your lips, you reach under you- the second you touch his skin, your eyes open and peter throws his hand over your mouth. he can hear the scream before you let it out.

‘it’s just me, it’s just me. you’re fine.’

you have an opposite reaction, flying up and scurrying away from him, pulling the blankets with you.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ peter could ask you the same thing but you might take that as a complaint and trust him, he’s not complaining.

‘you’re in my bed.’ you look around like you’ve been pranked, or like you’ve woken up at three am in a panic. ‘because you weren’t supposed to be here!’

‘i-‘ it’s peter’s turn to be confused, he knows why he wasn’t going to be there. but why do you? ‘how did you know that?’

‘ethan said you were at may’s! i wanted to have a sleepover but his white noise machine was too loud.’ ethan set up a really nice bed for you, he splurged on the best air mattress he could find but you couldn’t deal with rainforest sounds. water? fine. birds chirping? you left an hour in.

‘so you stole my bed?’ out of all the couches, you picked his bed. there might be hope after all. ‘you weren’t supposed to come back, you were supposed to sleep at may’s!’

‘i came back early, sorry to ruin your plan.’ you look out his windows, all you can see is the glow of light posts. you look for your phone and baulk at the time.

‘why the hell are you making that trek at three in the morning?’ peter smiles, you notice where you messed up. ‘nope. don’t care, go sleep in ethan’s room.’

‘what? no way, you go sleep in ethan’s room.’ you tried. and failed. ‘i can’t. i tried turning it off and he got mad at me.’

‘and you think he’d be nice to me? yeah, right.’ you pout, ‘no but you’re nice to me and you’ll take my place for me.’

adorable. and it’s not gonna happen.

‘no. either you go back in there and tough it out or you accept defeat and sleep next to me.’

you have a staring contest. if this was anything else, peter would do it to make you happy but he’s got a chance at the best sleep he’s had in months and he’s not letting it go.

you cross your arms and huff, peter uses the opportunity to claim his space. he might bully you into sleeping next to him but he won’t force you into a cuddle. but if you want one… he’ll make it the best one you’ve ever had.

‘peter!’ you whine and he won. you slump next to him and make a point to shuffle away. ‘you better not touch me.’

‘you’re in my bed.’

you sit up to grab a pillow, ‘i’ll sleep on your floor and never shut up about it.’ peter backs down real fast, there’s no way he’d let you hang that over his head.

‘no touching. got it.’ you make sure there’s nothing else- no grin or shiny eyes to give away he’s lying.

‘oh, and if anyone asks, you snuck in. i didn’t allow this.’

[petew21-blog]

An apple a day...

21st January 2021

Dr. Mikhail Varshavski, or how many people know him - Doctor Mike, is a famous succesful physician and an influencer making money out of his YouTube videos etc. Still taking a bit of his time to examine patients between his videos and interviews.

But today an elderly patient was suppse to come for a visit. Mikhail decided to make it a tv spot where the satisfied patient would come to the hospital and thanked him for treating him.

The patient's name was Arnold Jefferson, a 71 year old man suffering many conditions, such as diabetes, arthritis, hypertension and many many more. Quite common in older people.

Mr. Jefferson arrived an unaware of the upcoming spotilight was greeted by am assistant and led to a room with cameras.

Mr. Jefferson:"I was supposed to come for a vistit with Dr. Varshavski."

Assistant:"Doctor Mike wants to speak to you in front of the camera if that's ok? I am sure you have already signed multiple forms considering your privacy, while in his care. So we won't keep you long and I will go get doctor Mike."

Mr. Jefferson looked around confused. He came for a one on one dialogue, not an interview. He had no interest in all of this.

Docotr Mike arrived to the room. His hair ready, wearing his best scrubs that were ironed that day.

Mikhail:"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson. How are we feeling today?"

Mr. Jefferson:"Good morning. I.. well just as I normally do." he spoke nervously, looking at the cameras and the crew.

Mikhail spoke loudly for the microphone above them to hear and smiled way more than usual. "Amazing. We will do a standard check up and then we will take a look at your blood tests together. Is that ok?"

Mr. Jefferson nodded and was then examined in front of the camera. But they also did many photos where they were wearing masks and touched each other with elbows just to prove how safe they were while handling the ongoing pandemic.

He felt uncomfortable. "Could I please be examined alone for the part where I get to undress?"

The smile from doctor Mike's face disappeared. "Sure. Yeah. Can all of you from the crew go and take 5? Thank you. We will finish with Mr. Jefferson quickly.

The crew left and Dr. Mike was left alone with the patient.

Mr. Jefferson:"You complicated things for me, you know? I would have done this much sooner."

Doctor Mike had his stethoscope in his ears listening to Mr. Jefferson's heart. "What do you mean by that?" he said confused by what the patient said.

Mr. Jefferson placed his hands on Dr. Mike's head. "This". Flashes of lights shined between the two of them. Mikhail wanted to run away, but the force from Mr. Jefferson's hands was so strong. He couldn't let go.

Mikhail's eyes closed by themselves. He didn't see anything.

The first thing he saw as he opened his eyes was his reflection. Nothing unusual. He saw his face everyday in the mirror. But he felt anxious as soon as his body started moving on his own and flexed.

His body spoke out loud:"Oh my. It feels great to be this young again. It seems you take a great care for your body, Mikhail. Or I should say Arnold now."

Mikhail was in disbelief. What was happening? Is this all real?. "What did you do to me?"

Arnold:"I didn't hear that question for a very long time now. It will be easier to show you." he handed him the mirror. In the reflection was the same old man that he trested seconds ago. He touched his face and the reflection did the same.

Mikhail:"How are you doing this?"

Arnold:"Couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. I am honestly not sure."

Mikhail:"Why me? I am a doctor. I am not someone you should steal life away from."

Arnold:"You almost answered your question. If I don't have the right to do that then why should you? Remember my wife you treated? How you misdiagnosed her?"

Mikhail:"This is medicine. Mistakes can happen. It's not an exact science. Sometimes we don't have the power to save everyone."

Arnold:"Maybe. But my wife was special, like me, you know. We did the same thing I just did for you for almost a century. But we fell in love with the life that these bodies had. The love they had for each other, the family. We even had a new young couple found to move over to, but you just had to fuck it up. So... let my face be a constant reminder of what you messed up."

Mikhail:"You can't do this. No one will believe you. Everyone will find out. I will tell them."

Arnold:"Yeah, not really my concern. Whenever one of you does this, they end up in a mental hospital. So I guess it's up to you now, if you want to finish the shooting quietly or get a quick ticket for mental hospital for the short rest of your life you have left. So what's it gonna be?"

They finished the spot and Mikhail in Arnold's body was escorted out of the hospital. He was old now. His body ached. Every step he took was like a needle. He was picked up by one of his family members. He had no idea who it was. His son? Grandson? Maybe they'll know more about the swapping. Maybe the clues will be inside the house. Or maybe none at all.

18th February 2021

Mikhail sat in his new arm chair and held a mug in his hands. It has been almost a month since he lost his body.

One of his grandsons played with a tablet next to him.

Mikhail:"What are you doing there, Joe?"

Joe:"You wouldn't understand, grandpa."

Mikhail:"Maybe I would. How about you show me?"

Joe gave him initial instructions he would normally give Arnold, but Mikhail already knew all of this and confidently asked for him to put up YouTube.

Joe was surprised that his grandpa now knew all this, but he did what grandpa asked him to do.

They found Doctor Mike's channel. There was only one new video from the last time that Mikhail has posted anything.

The video had a bad quality. The one who edited the video was definitely an amateur.

The name of the video was: Why I decided to quit medicine

Mikhail froze. His life was all about being in the medical field. And now Arnold ruined it all.

He played the video. Arnold seemed very happy with his new body, because he kept touching his arms, his pecs and hair even while talking about how unsatisfied he became while working as a doctor.

Mikhail took the tablet and searched for more information about his old body. He found information about a lawsuit for malpractice, that the new doctor Mike how faced.

But something kuch worse caught his attention. An Only Fans account.

Mikhail left the room with the tablet and his grandson screaming behind him. But he didn't care about that now. He opened the page and immediately subscribed while entering his credit card info.

The page unlocked.

Mikhail had tears in his eyes. There were videos of his old body pleasuring himself, embarassing himself, pleasuring others...

All of that for a bit of money from horny peopl, that wanted to see the famous doctor.

Mikhail decided to send a message that cost extra money.

He sat there for a while and thought about what it would say.

"Dear, doctor Mike. Or maybe you still remember your old name, Arnold. I wanted to say something mean about you ruining my life. But after watching the videos, I have to say I miss my body. Even though I would want it back I don't expect you'd give it like that for free. But maybe you could let me enjoy that body once again from someone else's view? What do you think? It might get a lot of views.

Sincerley,

Dr. Mike Arnold Jefferson"

On the other side of the screen sat Arnold in front of the computer, his dick hard. Reading the message from his old body.

"This might be interesting" he said, grinning mischievously.

Two woman called out behind him from the bed:"Coming to bed, honey?"

Arnold smiled and turned around. "Ready for round three?"

Anonymous request from inbox

Could you please write a body swap story where an elderly patient steals Dr. Mike’s body when he is seen by him for a visit?

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Ready to Love

The three times that Chan uses bad pickup lines on you, and the one time it finally works.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption. Bad pickup lines lol

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

Some would say you’re a bit of a wallflower. You like to stay out of the chaos, like to keep to yourself a little bit more than most. Your friends, like Wonwoo, tell you all the time that that’s not a flaw, but it certainly feels like it is at parties like this when you both blend in and stick out like a sore thumb simultaneously. You’ve tagged along with Wonwoo but have faded into the wallpaper for most of the night. The drinks are bad in a way that the more you have the better they taste. And a refill is where you’re headed to right now to get through the rest of the night.

You’re pouring some more mystery punch in your cup when Lee Chan approaches you, smiling. You give him a polite smile back because you’ve met him a handful of times at things like this. “Hey Y/N,” he’s grinning wildly. “You can get off the dating apps, because I’m here now!”

You blink once, twice, and spill a little punch on your hand. “I’m… not on any dating apps.” 

“Oh, good!” He says, overjoyed. 

“Oh… okay, then. Will you excuse me?” You squirm away from the counter and beeline for Wonwoo, who raises an eyebrow at your speedy return to hide behind him.

“Are you good?”

“Lee Chan… hit on me?” You pose it as a question because it sounds crazy. 

Wonwoo looks entertained. "Did he now? Then why are you hiding behind me?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” You ask blankly. 

Wonwoo sighs, tossing an arm around you. “Dare I say that you’re more awkward than me. That’s quite a feat.”

Two

Wonwoo and Mingyu are hosting a game night at their place. You aren’t competitive and have no bad feelings about being the first out the game. It gives you an excuse to raid the dessert that was brought in. You’re sneaking a fork into the slice of cake as Chan sneaks up to you. “Hey, Y/N!” Chan says cheerfully. You jump, gripping the fork like a weapon, huffing up at him. 

“Hi, Chan,” you mumble.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a 9, and I’m the 1 you need.” He’s got that stupid grin on his face again, and you blink at him some more, just like last time. Then you're just confused. 

“Chan, at no point as anyone ever said you’re a one.”

His grin somehow gets wider. “Oh? What would I be then?”

You stammer with no answer rattling around in your head. There’s a large crash from the other room and game pieces are scattered across the floor from Seungkwan swiping everything off the table in a fit of rage. “New game!” Jeonghan cries. “Y/N, Chan, are you in?”

You scramble back to the table and are so relieved that you’re sitting nowhere near Chan and can hide your red face behind Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo pats your shoulder, saying ‘there, there’, though you know he’s not sympathetic at all based on how entertained he looks.

Three

You’re attending one of their concerts. Wonwoo regularly gets you tickets when you’re free and often invites you to hang out with them backstage before and after the show. Security at this venue already knows you well, so they send on you on back to the green room when the show is over. 

Chan is standing out in the hallway when you approach. He looks up and smiles at you, waving. “Hey, Y/N.”

You brace yourself, because you can never predict what’s going to come out of his mouth lately. Still, you smile a little and say, “Great show, as usual.”

“Eh, I was a little distracted. I saw that you were in the crowd tonight.”

You give him a wide look. “Oh, why? I’m at a lot of shows.”

“I know,” Chan snorts. “You spend so much time in my mind that I should charge you rent.” He’s reduced you to furious blinking yet again. 

“I’m… sorry? I’m too broke for that.”

Chan belts out a laugh. “I said I should charge you, not that I would. Ready to go in?”

You blankly nod, following him into the green room. 

Four

It’s another party tonight and you are not really feeling it. You’re sitting out back by the pool to escape the crush inside. “Aren’t you cold?” Chan joins you, sitting by the pool. 

“No. What are you doing out here?” You ask, voice a little chilly. Besides the crowd, seeing him talk to another woman inside with his wide grin makes you sad in a way that you can’t explain. You can imagine the horrible pickup lines he might be giving them and whatever you thought might be just for you seems to not be. You have no right to feel upset about it so you’ve retreated to the backyard.

Chan shrugs. “You weren’t inside.”

“You have plenty of company inside. It’s okay, you can go back in. I might just head home.”

He’s smiling at you still, but looks confused. “Are you ready for another one?” You give him a blank look. “If I were a cat, I’d spend all of my nine lives on you.”

It’s just as ridiculous as any of the others he’s given you over the last few weeks, but there’s something sweet about this one that makes you burst out laughing. “Where do you get these?” You ask, wiping your eyes. 

“Google,” he says simply, wide smile on his face. It makes you giggle again.

“And you decided to try them on me? What, am I a tough nut to crack or something? If it works for me it will work on anyone?” You don’t mean it negatively, in fact you’re seeing a lot of humor in it now that you’re past some of the confusion. But his smile drops, looking confused again.

“Oh no. I save them all for you. I have many more to try if you want to hear them.”

Your confusion is back. “What’s the end goal here?” 

“To get you to like me, maybe go out with me.” You’ve always admired his confidence, especially right now when he says something like that so boldly, without an ounce of nervousness.

“How many more do you have?” You ask eventually, lips quirking up in the corners. 

He’s laughing somewhat maniacally, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “How long do you have?”

“As long as you can keep them coming.” 

You two are some of the last people to leave the party and you wake up to a pickup line in your unread text messages the next day. And the next. And the next…

[sultrybaby]

Nothing Compares To Being In Love With You (S.G)

(pics are not mine. credit to rightful owners. divider also from pinterest)

summary🦢 In which a cluster of old letters stand as the only testament of gojo's love for you, from birth to (quite literally) death.

genre 🦢 romance, angst, some fluff

pairing (s) 🦢 gojo x reader | reader x naoya zenin

warnings 🦢 reader/main character death, MAJOR ANGST obviously, not exactly forbidden love but more unfortunate circumstances, domestic abuse, mentions of bleeding and punching (no actual description of the abuse this is unrelated bleeding and punching), excessive use of the word sin in one of the monologues, mentions of glass, naoya zenin sucks, letters are from gojo's pov which might be hard to follow I am not sure. Gojo is down bad.

DO NOT ROMANTICIZE ABUSE. THIS FIC (AND ME) DOES NOT CONDONE ROMANTICIZATION OF ABUSE AND IF U ARE LOOKING FOR FICS THAT DO (WHICH IS SICK) THIS IS NOT THE FIC FOR U AND ALSO PLS BLOCK ME CUZ EW.

a/n: this was supposed to be an enhypen fanfic but then I changed my mind. I'm honestly just shocked I actually finished this. Hopefully this idea has manifested to be as good as it seemed in my head and isn't confusing to follow. ENJOY BESTIESSSSS.

🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢

"So apparently, this house belonged to a young bachelor once," explained Mary to her all-too-curious daughter eveline, who sat wide-eyed like a little lamb on the floor of the new house the family had just moved into.

'Really?"

"Yes, baby," Mary chuckled, running her fingers through eveline's (or evie, as they lovingly call her) hair to brush the strands away from her face.

"Where is he now?"

"Oh I don't know sweetheart," Mary sighed, lightly amused at the disappointment on evie's face.

"But maybe there are some clues around the house! If you ever get the time,  you should explore. Who knows, you might find something…"

Evie's eyes twinkled in excitement at the prospect of having an adventure in this foreign pile of bricks that she now had to learn to call home. Perhaps this will create a sense of oneship with the house.

Determined to uncover the secrets of the mysterious young bachelor, little evie started on her mission to unearth every corner of the building. After toppling boxes, crawling through crevices, and occasionally bumping her head on random walls, evie finally uncovered a rather absurd looking block.

And that is the story of how Mary was gifted this curious looking box by her exhausted daughter, waddling excitedly to show her the discovery.

The box had an old-fashioned grace to it. It was clearly disintegrating; cheap, fading, yellowed white  paint hung off the corners, all dried up, waiting to be chipped off. It seemed as if there was some kind of locking mechanism in the front of the box which has long been broken. All it took was a simple motion for the mouth of the box to open wide, revealing a neatly stacked set of what one could assume were letters.

The first letter was different to the others. While the rest were prettily folded, this one had a texture much more rough- as if it had been crushed and then straightened again. And on it, in extremely feathery ink, was written,

Dear ____,

You are the sun and the stars and the rose and the beautiful sky. You are made of the serenity of heaven and the tempting evil of hell. You are everything created to be beautiful, and you also make anything beautiful by association. Every day and every night, in light, in darkness, in life, and even now in death, you make me realize why Orpheus would go to the deadly underworld just to get Eurydice back. I understand his pain and longing.

I know we parted ways hurtfully and there is no action I regret more. And in my attempt to tell myself I hated you, I failed in my life's purpose- to truly let you know how much I loved you.

This is a memoir of the love I lost, a love that was but a bubble in air- shining briefly with all the most beautiful colours, then popping abruptly. And this is just an attempt at preserving some of that wonder and beauty so that when my heart aches a bit too much, I can cry to the essence of your soul (which is funny, because you are too much, too great, to be put into words).

Lovingly,

Yours yesterday, today, and forevermore,

Satoru Gojo.

A love story- a tragic one, was etched in the letters following. In that little white box was the history of Gojo Satoru's love for this mysterious woman to whom he had devoted his heart entirely.

And so Mary started reading…

Dear ____

Today I decided that I would start attempting to put into words my love for you. In these scraps of paper lie not the true extent of my love- that would be impossible to boil down to mere letters- but just enough for my heart to no longer feel as if it is at the brink of explosion from the pain of carrying the weight of my love for you.

The first time I saw you was when I was rushing to work. What started off as a normal day turned into an irreplaceable, unforgettable memory when I heard an angelic voice bantering with a baker.

"Jesus Antonio a damned second grader could bake better bread in their sleep- it’s not worth more than a dollar a loaf. So I ain't paying any more than that"

I felt compelled by fate to turn around and figure out who was truly the source of this wildly amusing diatribe.

Saying that my eyes were unprepared to capture the beauty I was about to witness would be an understatement. I found myself unable to move, nailed to the ground as I took in the sheer magnificence of your existence. And then I blinked. And you were gone.

I remember shaking my head wildly to see where the angel had disappeared off to, and my heart sighed in relief as I saw your unmistakable figure walk with a triumphant smirk and a loaf of bread that you surely had not paid more than a dollar for.

Today marks the second year since we've known each other. Every day since I have carried the burden of my love with utmost pleasure, because loving you is the greatest experience of my life. Nothing compares to being in love with you. But every so often when I stare at you, hoping the longing in my heart doesn't show in my eyes, I wish you were mine.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

Dear ___

The first time we ever talked was in the same bakery I first saw you in, although I will admit it is not as much of a coincidence as it may seem. For every day since I saw you, I wandered around the bakery, hoping to catch a glimpse of your hair again.

First I would wander around the area, walking up and down the road multiple times.

Then I started to stick to the stores right next to the bakery. I bought so many snow globes that I really didn't need, not to mention all those picture frames…

Finally, picking up the courage to meet you, I walked into the bakery. I waited around a bit, but eventually it became clear that you were not making an appearance. Dejected, I decided to get something anyway. I had come to the bakery after all.

"Excuse me, how much for kikufuku" I'd asked

"That's be $3 good sir"

It was as I pulled the notes from my wallet that I heard a familiar voice shrieking,

"ANTONIO HOW DARE YOU RIP OFF THIS GOOD MAN?"

To this day it might be my favourite statement of all time.

I turned around to meet your eyes. All was a blur and before I knew it I had a loaf of bread in my hand along with two of the three dollars I was about to hand in.

"..hello?"

I blinked myself back to reality as I saw you waving your palm good naturedly in front of my face.

"Oh h-hi…"

I saw you giggle, probably at the sight of my extremely flustered face. I could feel the heat absorbing all common sense from my brain.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Sato- Gojo…Gojo Satoru…" I breathed out, "and you?"

"____"

I don't think you will ever realize how much that day changed me. And that's okay. I don't want you to feel the anguish I do. I just want you to keep smiling and giggling as you love to. Oh, and chewing off Antonio's ears, of course.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

Dear ___

I know we're just friends, but sometimes when you show up at my door with a bag of sweets that you just happened to remember were my favourite, I wonder if there is something deeper; if there is any possibility that you could feel what I feel. And when you hand me the bag, I wonder if I was just imagining the way your touch lingered as our fingers grazed, if I was just imagining your gaze momentarily resting on mine with the same intensity with which I look and think of you.

I know we're just friends, but then why is it that every moment we spend apart from each other feels like my heart is getting ripped out piece by piece? And I know that you would never experience the anguish I do, but then as we spend hours and hours on the telephone talking and laughing about anything and everything, I can't help but wonder if you would do this just for a friend. I again let myself hope that maybe, maybe you felt at least a fraction of the deep devotion I felt for you. But I would never, ever mention it. For the thought of losing what we have now, of losing the ability to experience heaven even in such simple ways, brings me fear that gnaws at my heart and soul. So I hide my worries and my wishes as I keep listening to the sound of your voice through the telephone.

I know we're just friends but do friends have such deep understanding of each other to the point where your wish is nothing but my instinct?

I know we're just friends but are the lives of friends so deeply intertwined in each other that when you lie next to them you can't sense where you end and they begin? When you can't remember if you're in your house or theirs for that is how much time you spend in each other's lives. At what point of spending every day together does my life turn into yours. ____  I don't know how I can go on living without telling you how much you mean to me.

I know we're just friends, but sometimes I feel the line blurring away when we're drunk and unstable and tangled in each other, both of us holding the other for support. And as we messily fall onto the floor, giggling at our pathetic state, I take the moment to cradle you in my arms. In your drunken frenzy you place the softest of kisses on my cheek, only to fall asleep on my shoulder immediately after. When I'm staring at you longingly I can't help but wonder, what are we? What is this love, this gentleness, this warmth? Is this friendship? Is friendship supposed to be so overwhelming? The weight of these questions momentarily crush me, but it all fades away as I stare at your beautiful being, peacefully snoring on my shoulder. And in that moment, all my worries take the backseat, and all I care about is protecting this peace of yours. Whether I do that as a lover or a friend is not a matter to me.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

This might be the last time I speak of my love for you, for today you told me that you love me too. So I no longer have to express it in secret, but I can let you know wholeheartedly.

I will never forget the way your head rested against my shoulder, nose-deep in your book. And as I failed to look away from you, I didn’t realize that you had turned to look at me too. I will never forget the way your hand rested on my shoulder as you pulled yourself up to look me in the eye, while I sat there stupidly, mesmerized by the way you moved, so gentle, so light, so ethereal.

Most importantly, I will never forget the way you cupped my face, the subtlest of tears shining in your eyes, and told me, breath hitching at every note,

"Satoru I don't know what I'm feeling. I know I shouldn't be feeling this but I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if you do either. It would kill me to ruin our friendship but this anguish is killing me too and so I'm going to kiss you now and if you don’t like it feel free to punch me"

You leaned forward, and just before you kissed me you stole a glance at my face. And that was when I let go of all the restraints I had placed on my heart.

It was something in the way that our eyes locked;  the brilliant world built on the lies of our hearts crumbling as I cried on your lips in prayer. Maybe this was sin, but the tears I drank were proof that underneath all the chaos hid something real, and it was hidden for no reason but the fact that the world my god created was also made of the same kind of sin as her touch, unprepared to accept the beauty of it all. Damn the preachers, look at her face. Will not the angels sing in her name? If God hated sin so, why did he give her the same beauty as that of his mountains and oceans and the moon? We all are born of sin and sinners at the hour of our death, but I alone had the privilege of being absolved by sin.

I love you, ___. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Yours forevermore,

Satoru.

Dear ___

I know I said I wouldn’t write more of these since I don’t need to hide my love for you any longer but it turns out I'm incapable of stopping my expression of devotion towards you. I love you in ways that I want to etch down. I want to world to know how much I love you. Even after we're dead and gone, I want these words to stay there forever, because that is the nature of my love for you. Permanent. Everlasting.

I love the way your pretty little hands smooth over my tensed shoulders when I've had a long day. Your chest against my back, your hands enveloping me from behind, the way you whisper into my ear has me wishing for nothing more than the moment to last forever. I love you.

I love the way you kiss me. I love the way you cup my cheeks like a child before kissing them. I love the way you kiss my forehead, the way you kiss my nose, the way you kiss my upper lip, my chin, my shoulder, my eyes. Every bit of proof that an angel like you could ever love me has me in awe, in reverence of how simple it is for you to have me wrapped around your little finger. I love you.

I love the soft little touches that are so characteristic of the way you love. I love the way you fix my messy hair. I love the way you pull me closer during cold breezes, claiming it is to keep me warm. And I stand there in adoration of how cute you look as you hide yourself in the crook of my jacket. And I embrace you in my warmth as if I could never let you go. I love the way you absent mindedly play with my fingers. I love the way you link your arms with mine. I love the way you lean in close to wipe something from the corners of my mouth. I love all of it I love you.

I love it when you're so happy that you do a little dance. I love it when you're so nervous about sneaking away from an important meeting with your family members and running to me that you keep spacing out a little, making that really cute zoned out face of yours. I even love your beautiful diamond tears, even if I hate what it is that made you cry, when you're frustrated with all that your mother and father want from you. I love you I love you I love you.

I love you so much, ___. I can only hope that I remind you of it enough.

Love,

Satoru

"Mama that paper is pretty crumplyy- Mama are you ok?"

Dear ___

No.

It can't be.

I keep telling myself it can't be but your words cling to my skin, the cacophony of which psychedelically revolve around my soul.

It can't be It can't be It can't be

“'toru… we can’t do this anymore. It’s over. I'm getting married.”

 “Married? You’re joking, right? Did your parents finally find some guy who fits their impossibly high standards?”

 “This isn’t a joke, toru, They have found someone. He’s a good match. Someone stable, responsible. I’ve… agreed to it.”

“Wait… you agreed to it? So you’re just… going along with it? After everything we’ve been through? After us?”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is. My family expects me to marry someone who can provide stability, someone they can rely on. You and I… we were just… a dream.”

“A dream? That’s what this was to you? A dream? And you’re just going to… throw it away?”

“Yes I mean… toru, look at you. You live life as if you’re still a kid, as if nothing really matters. You laugh everything off, even the serious things, and that’s— That’s not what I need! I need someone who can give me certainty. Someone who can give me a future.”

“Certainty? Is that all I am to you, just some silly guy who can’t give you a future? Because I would have. I would have done anything to make it work, and you know it.”

“No, Satoru, you wouldn’t have, You’d have tried for a while, but eventually, you’d get restless. That’s who you are—you go wherever you feel like going, with no thought for consequences, no… no sense of commitment. And I can’t live like that.”

“You don’t know that! You’re deciding all this for both of us. You’re… you’re running away, choosing some path that someone else picked out for you. How is that the stability you want? It’s just… it’s just giving up.”

“No, it’s not giving up! You don’t understand. This isn’t just about you or me. It’s about family, tradition… things that are bigger than both of us. You’re acting like a child who thinks love is all that matters. Well, it’s not. Not in my world.”

 “I see. So you’d rather marry a stranger than even give us a chance? Than let me try to be what you need?”

“Gojo… I love you. But love isn’t enough to change everything. I wish it were. But it’s not.”

“Maybe you don’t love me as much as you think, then.”

“Don’t… don’t say that, I’ll never stop loving you, but I need to let you go. And you…You need to let me go, too. It’ll be easier that way.”

“Easier? You’re not making anything easier, trust me. I’ll never forget you. I’ll always wonder what we could’ve been… but you’re right, aren’t you? I’m just too silly, too carefree to matter.”

Naoya Zenin. The heir of one of the biggest families in the nation. Rich, powerful, handsome. Perfect. He was perfect it seemed. And so were you.

But the anger in my heart doesn’t still. Maybe because I don’t want to accept the truth- that I truly was never enough for you.

Because I know that you are not that perfect. Because it was your imperfection that I fell in love with. And the imperfect you casted the imperfect me away because you were imperfect in a way that everyone loved and I was imperfect in a way no one could bear to see. You were imperfect in a way that could be fixed by getting you married (as your wretched family never failed to mention) while I was…unfixable.

Broken.

We were both broken shards, and in our interweaved misery I deluded myself into believing we came from the same piece of glass. When you bled on me I drank your suffering, living through my burning throat just to hold you up. But you were always meant to be great, and I was not. And I told myself that I made you, breathed you into creation. That you were nothing without me. That the time I spent crafting your wings made me something, as if you had not discarded them as soon as you could. Your apathy was cruelty, your fame a testimony to the different seas of being that we are. And as I hung from the broken bridge I built, you flourished.

But in those fluttering moments when our eyes meet, those intense seconds where two frail souls reach out their hands in memory of what once used to be, of what once was the truth, I see that broken woman again. It makes me realize that you were a gorgeous vase dropped on accident, while I was a pair of rose tinted glasses broken in frustration. You were crafted to be beautiful, temporarily set back by fate, while I would forever just be a memory of the lies we tell ourselves.

But a broken vase can never be put back together, and someday, the world would know that your greatness was just a house of cards; fated to be toppled over by the dying breath of the frail strands that tied our hearts together.

Yours,

Satoru.

Dear ___,

I was so sure I understood, so sure that I was the one who’d been wronged. All I saw was you walking away, slipping through my fingers, and it burned—I let it fill me with anger, as if I was the only one hurt by it all. I couldn’t see past my own pain to realize you were scared. You weren’t breaking up with me because you didn’t care, but because you were… trapped.

The Saddest of stories are always of the happiest of people; the ones whose heart lit up at the sight of the world. But the world was too cruel to some of them, and love is never enough to carry one through the ugliness of this world we live in. And soon enough comes a time when looking at a glass of water causes heartache, and every light is so blinding that it physically pains you to get out of bed, and when all that lingers is the feeling of cold numbness inside. By then love is all forgotten, holding no meaning. No amount of care or happiness can fix the damage caused by the seemingly harmless boredom. Boredom then turns to dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction turns to hopelessness, and through all of this there are those who can put up the façade of a healthy life.

We never see them- or at least see them as they truly are. Sad, Bored, a little dead on the inside. It's not like they seem to be happy or cheerful either- just nothing out of the ordinary. But the ordinary deceives the mind, and we leave out those little moments when their face breaks and the tears slip and the bandaid falls of- not because the wound has healed, but because it has bled too much. And also because it is not the kind of wound that a bandaid can fix. But they ignore this, and keep sticking bandaids (sometimes loosely attaching the same one over) in hopes that it will one day work the way they expect. But this only causes the wound to turn toxic, until it turns numb. And you think this means it has healed, but it is only when it is slightly brushed against, and the unbearable pain jolts throughout, that you realize that its just gotten worse in silence.

I didn’t even think to ask if you were okay. I thought you were just cold, maybe even heartless, telling me you needed someone more stable, someone responsible. But now, I see that you were pleading for something I didn’t understand. You needed help, someone to see through what you couldn’t say. You needed someone who’d ask why you said those things, why you looked so… afraid. And I missed it. I didn’t stop to question why you had this sadness behind your words, this weight pressing on you. I was too focused on being right, on feeling betrayed, to see what was right in front of me.

I convinced myself that you just wanted a different life, something that didn’t involve me, when really, you were… struggling. I should have seen that the way you talked about him, about your 'future,' was hollow. I should have noticed how you’d say the word 'marriage' like it was a sentence, not a choice. And instead of asking you, instead of listening—I let myself believe you were leaving me for someone else, that you’d never loved me the way I loved you. I made it about me, when all you needed was someone who could see what you couldn’t say out loud.

And now, here I am, replaying every word, every conversation, and wondering why I didn’t ask the right questions, why I didn’t push just a little harder to know what was really going on. I was supposed to be the one who loved you. But instead of standing by you, instead of seeing your fear, I just… got angry. I made you feel like you were wrong for leaving me, when in reality, you were just trying to survive. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own feelings to realize you needed me.

So now I’m left here with nothing but regrets, wishing I had seen the truth, wishing I’d known enough to tell you I’d help, that you weren’t alone. And now… now it’s too late. And I’ll never forgive myself for that

If only you knew that I would have been there for you. When he hurt your body and your heart and mind, I would have been there. If I had known, an angel like you would not have suffered more than a mere second in the house of a tyrant. If I had known, you would be laughing in my arms instead of crying on his floor. If I had known, maybe you would still be here with me.

Naoya Zenin.

That monster. I always hated him, but I thought… I thought it was jealousy. Just me being petty. But now I see him, in my mind—the way he looked at her, the way he… possessed you, like you were some damn object. He never saw you, not the way you really were. No. To him, you were just something he could cage, something to crush under his control.

How could he do it? How could he look you in the eyes and destroy you? How could he even live with himself? You loved life; you loved people, loved him, once—God, that makes it worse. He didn’t deserve a second of your love. He didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you, and yet he was the one… he was the one who had you, day after day. His hands, that sick, twisted mind—you suffered because of him. And he’ll never pay enough for what he’s done. No punishment, no hell is deep enough for him.

I should have seen it. All those times I got frustrated with you, thinking you were pulling away, that you were lying to me. But you weren't lying, were you? You were hiding it, hiding the pain… because you knew I wouldn’t understand. I’d always get so mad, so impatient, thinking you were just… playing games, trying to hurt me. But you weren't. You were crying for help, and I just walked away, time after time. I thought I was so… righteous, so hurt. I thought I deserved the truth, that I had the right to be angry.

But I didn’t see your pain, did I? I never stopped to look closer, to ask you if you were really okay. I didn’t see how you’d flinch when he’d call, how you’d go silent, like you were somewhere far away. You were in hell, and all I cared about was my own heart. I was supposed to protect you, and instead, I pushed you back into his arms. I let you go back to him, and now… now you're gone."

And there’s nothing I can do to bring you back. Nothing I can do to make up for the times I failed you, for not listening, for not… seeing. It’s too late. I lost you forever. And it’s my fault.

I'm sorry, love.

Yours forevermore,

Satoru.

Dear ___

Today I watched you buried. I couldn’t see your face, as I maintained my distance, not trusting myself to be able to bear to be next to the ones who allowed you to be hurt. Moreover, I refuse to believe that you are gone. You're in my heart, and you always will be.

But as the day descended into night, and the yard was empty for miles, I dared to come close.

And I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I don't know when the hot tears started falling, mind blank as my knees thumped against the cold hard ground. And suddenly, all the agony clutched at my throat till I couldn't breathe, and I sobbed. I sobbed and bawled till I couldn’t feel my breath anymore. I needed the pain out of me but I didn't know how and in a vain attempt to ease the pain I punched and punched the ground as if it would cause you to come back to life again. As if it was the fault of the earth for taking you away from me. I cried hideously and clawed monstrously at the ground, but nothing changed. I rested my head on the grass in exhaustion, and thumped my head against the ground in anger as the tears kept falling. But even as I choked on the soil, nothing changed. I was still alone except for the company of the solitude taking pity on my pathetic state. I could feel the nothingness embrace me, comforting me, for I was truly alone in the world now, and I could feel it to my core.

And although my heart is numb and even as the bruises on my fingers from punching the floor bleed onto the page, I cannot stop myself from writing. I write and write and write because these letters are the only thing keeping you alive and I'm afraid if I stop then you will truly be gone and that can't be it can't be it can't.

 Because no matter where you are, my heart still beats for you. And despite the pain that follows the realization that yours no longer beats at all, I want to live forever. I want this simple heart of mine to thrum in your honor until the end of time. So that I can keep the feeling of being in love with you. So that I can, just for a moment, remember that I had the honour of being in love with you. Because nothing compares to being in love with you.

Yours yesterday, today, and forevermore,

Satoru.

a/n: hope you enjoyed. ive never written for jjk before and although ive watched the show and am familiar w the manga idk if this is ooc im sry. i have wanted to write for jjk for a while now tho so i am glad i did. i love angst if you couldnt tell btw.

[aka-indulgence]

Candlelit Dinner

Thank you @wolfbeestudio for the commission for dive computer! >u< Enjoy a short and sweet romantic fluff for you :>

(FS!Sans x GN!Reader)

You make the best of your anniversary night with your busy skeleton partner.

—————

You were cooking when your ever so busy boyfriend came home.

“How was the meeting?”

Sans sighed at the door, dressed to the nines in his royal guard outfit, carrying his work bag and a nondescript paper bag.

“OH, IT WAS NOTHING INTERESTING DARLING. JUST MORE POLICY MAKING WITH THE HUMANS. I KNOW THERE WERE REPORTERS AND WE WOULD MAKE A BRIEF TV APPEARANCE, BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY WE NEEDED TO BE IN CEREMONIAL GUARD GARB. ALPHYS CERTAINLY DIDN’T ENJOY IT- BUT WHO AM I TO COMPLAIN WHEN I GET TO DRESS TO OVERKILL?”

You take one look at the well-dressed skeleton and suppress what would’ve been an embarrassing high-pitched sound. You clear your throat.

“Y-yeah, you’ve always looked your best in that thing,”

“THIS OUTFIT… ‘DOING THINGS TO YOU’ IS CERTAINLY A WELCOME ADDITION,” Sans teases, bounding towards you.

Gloved claws slowly close around your shoulder, and you try your best not to show the blush on your face- though you end up failing when the ever so romantic skeleton slow kisses you on the jaw from behind. Even worse, you shudder involuntarily, and the man has the gall to chuckle against your neck.

“Good Evening Darling. What’re You Cooking?”

You try to hide your fluster with a giggle and you try to joke, “C-can’t you see what I’m making? Steak.”

“HOW EXQUISITE. IT SMELLS DIVINE. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE SAUCE?”

“Just trying a new recipe. I’ll tell you the secrets later,”

“KEEPING SECRETS FROM ME? I SUPPOSE WAITING IS A SHORT PRICE TO PAY,” he bluffs sighing in disappointment. “FAR IT BE FROM ME TO REFUSE SUCH A DELICIOUS MEAL, BUT I MUST ASK… ON WHAT OCCASION ARE YOU COOKING STEAK?”

Normally, you would blow a raspberry and say do I need a reason to want steak? But you’re caught off guard for a moment- did he really forget? Sans never forgets important dates.

“Wait, really?” You turn to him, “it’s… our anniversary.”

“IS THAT SO? I THOUGHT YOU HAD FORGOTTEN. YOU DIDN’T MAKE A SPECIAL BREAKFAST FOR ME THIS MORNING.”

Oh. Of course he remembered.

“What!! You left at six in the morning! Also that’s why I’m making us steak right now!” You gesture wildly at your cooking, though you’re laughing as you’re pretending to be angry.

Sans laughs along with you. “I’M ONLY TEASING YOU DARLING. I DO HAVE TO APOLOGIZE THAT I COULDN’T RESERVE THE DAY FOR JUST THE TWO OF US. UNFORTUNATELY A ‘LOVER’S ANNIVERSARY’ ISN’T A REASON I CAN USE TO ESCAPE MONSTER-HUMAN MEETINGS.”

“You should complain to Toriel!” You suggested, “besides, we’re a monster-human couple, we’re already representing monster-human relationships. Wouldn’t that be enough?”

“AND HAVE MY SKULL REMOVED FROM MY SPINE? NO THANK YOU. NOT TO WORRY HOWEVER, I AM NOW HERE TO AID IN YOUR COOKING.”

“Wh- are you saying my cooking’s bad?”

“GOOD HEAVENS, WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR HUMAN? AFTER I JUST COMPLIMENTED THE SMELL TOO. CAN’T A LOVING PARTNER HELP YOU IN MAKING THE FRIES?”

You pressed your lips together. “Oh. Um. Yeah, fries sound good…”

*****

Cooking with Sans was always nice. He liked to do it alone (a few times Papyrus tried to ‘contribute’ with his condiments got him yelled out of the kitchen), but you seem to be the exception. Eventually, you have two plates of steak, fries, and assortment of vegetables. The glaze you found online had been a success, and it made you feel like a five-star chef.

You pick up your plate and move towards the dining table, but Sans puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I HAVE A BETTER LOCATION IN MIND.” he smirks.

“Oh yeah? Where, the couch?” You tease, but Sans just shakes his head, handing you your jacket.

“TAKE THIS WITH YOU,”

“My jacket? But wh-”

In a blink, you’re no longer in the kitchen. You were on top of a building you don’t recognize with beautiful twirly railings. The full moon is high in the sky, looking down on the both of you.

“Where are-?”

The culprit chuckles, taking your plate away from your frozen hands and places them on a table decorated with a cloth. With a wave of his hand a flame appears on a candle. Seating for two, he pulls out a chair for you.

“Sans…” you say with awe, walking over to your chair like you were dreaming. “How did you…?”

“I HAD TIME AFTER OUR MEETING. THIS WAS ONE OF THE BEST PLACES TO SEE THE NIGHT SKY IN THE CITY WITHOUT IT BEING SOME OVERCROWDED CASH-GRAB AREA. I MAY NOT HAVE RESERVED THE DAY FOR US, BUT I CAN CERTAINLY RESERVE THE NIGHT.”

He takes the nondescript bag from earlier and pulls out… a wine bottle. Cabernet Sauvignon, to be exact.

“Oh Sans… this is lovely,”

He responds by pulling the cork off, pouring you the perfect amount for swirling.

“AM I A WONDERFUL PARTNER OR NOT?” He raises his brow at you as he pours himself a glass.

“Yes, yes you are.” you roll your eyes at him, affectionately.

“AND OF COURSE YOUR COOKING IS WONDERFUL. I WAS GOING TO COOK SOMETHING MYSELF- BUT IT TURNED OUT YOU WERE ALREADY ON IT. YOU ARE MY PERFECT PARTNER, (Y/N). I LOVE YOU,”

You blush as he takes your hand in both of his and brings it to his mouth, covering your mouth while your cheeks turn red. “I love you too, Sans.”

He kisses your knuckles.

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, DARLING.”

[jusst-you-race]

For the CCC asks: can we get some simi?? I don't think Kimi would be one to text much so I have no idea how that would play out but I'd love to know about them in your universe

and also for @sashacat1 here is some simi!!! this took me quite a while to work out how I wanted to show their dynamic but I think i got somewhere kind of alright... hope you all enjoy!!! for the ccc snippet prompts

Seb Kimi look I saw a dog on the way to work!

image.png

He was a very good boy, his owner let me pet him. 

His name is Duke, I think this is a very good name for a dog 

Regal

Kimi ❤️

cute

Seb Argh my office plants are wilting!

I knew I should have brought them home before I went to that conference

You are so much better at looking after my plants 

Kimi wasn’t Jen supposed to water them?

Seb Yes! 

Of course you remember this and you don’t even work here

She said she forgot 

I don’t know how she could have forgotten when she had been in the office for two weeks while my plants have been drooping right in front of her face

My poor babies 

Kimi ☹️

Seb Yes I know I’m probably being a bit dramatic about it but it is upsetting!

I might have to bring these home for emergency care… 

They really aren’t doing so hot they’ve barely perked up after watering

Kimi I’ll pick you up after work

Seb Really? It’s not too much of a hassle?

I know it’s really out of the way for you

And we shouldn’t be driving unnecessarily 

But I don’t know how else I will get these poor babies home 

Kimi it���s fine 

Seb You are such a lifesaver 

I love you 

Kimi ❤️

Seb Oh I don’t even know where I’ll put them

We really are running out of space in the flat

I need to give all my new cuttings away! But I just want to make sure they’ll handle the stress of an environmental change

Do you think Charles would like a plant as a moving gift when he moves? 

I am very excited to have him around! 

Sometimes having a plant to take care of reminds you to take care of yourself and I feel like he will need that reminder in his final years of architecture

Kimi 👍

Seb Okay fantastic I am glad you agree

I think I’ll give him a pothos 

I have too many cuttings from my one and they’re easy to look after

Hang on what was I talking about?

Kimi space

Seb Ah yes 

The ones I’m bringing home are low light plants and I’m not sure we have any more room in the bedroom…

It’s getting quite full in there

The lounge would be too sunny, same with the kitchen

Maybe I have too many plants…

Kimi bathroom?

Seb Yes! 

Have I mentioned I love you?

Kimi once or twice

Seb Well I do 

That’s such good thinking I should be able to make some space on the counter for these two just while they get back to their usual selves

You won’t mind it being a bit cramped in there for a while will you?

Kimi no 

Seb ❤️

Okay wonderful! 

Now that I have a plan I really should get started on my work for today

I have so many emails… 

What does your day look like schatz?

Kimi Michael is bringing his car in

will probably spend most of the day on that

you know how he gets

Seb Oh yes that Ferrari is his baby

Scheiße

Why did you have to tell me you were working on a Ferrari today

I can’t be horny at work 

Kimi you asked

Seb I did 

I regret it 

God I’m going to be thinking about that all day

Kimi go answer your emails 

Seb But imagining you all greasy under a Ferrari is so much more appealing 

Kimi I’m not indulging this 

go do your work rakas

Seb Fine 😔

Take pictures?

Kimi of course 

Seb 🥰

Okay okay have a wonderful day schatz!

Kimi ❤️

[honeyjars-sims]

3.35 Sticky Situation

It’s the second day of our camping trip and I’m realizing that even when she’s on vacation, Lucy is still in work mode. With the spotty cell service on the mountain, she’s not able to do any actual work so she’s channeling all of her energy into making sure things run smoothly on the trip.

She was up before the rest of us this morning cleaning up our mess from the night before and now that everyone’s awake, she’s been looking for things to do. “We should gather more firewood,” she says.

“We have all day to do that,” I tell her. “Just relax. This is a vacation, remember?”

“I know, but I can’t relax when there are things that need to be done. I always get like this when I’m…on vacation.” I have a feeling there’s more going on but before I can ask her about it, Paul jumps in.

“Well, if you can’t relax until things are done, then at least let someone else do it,” he insists. He turns to me. “John and I can gather up some firewood while you get in some relaxation.”

I start to protest the suggestion–I always hate it when I get roped into hard labor just because I’m a guy–but Lucy looks so relieved that I decide to let it go. “Yeah, we’ll take care of it,” I say instead, and Paul and I head off into the woods.

We barely make it a few feet before Paul starts droning on about how you want to make sure you get the right type of wood, and you have to make sure the pieces you pick aren’t too wet, and blah, blah, blah. “Yeah, yeah,” I cut in. “If I have to do this, then I’m gonna do it my way.”

“Oh? What’s your way? If you have any insights, I’m happy to hear them.”

“It’s pretty simple. Is this wood? If yes, then I pick it up.”

“Hmm, ok,” he says, sounding uncertain. “I suppose we’ll see how that goes tonight.” 

“I guess we will.”

“You’re kind of competitive aren’t you?” he asks.

I feel my face growing hot, remembering how I tried–and failed–to show him up on our last hiking trip. “Uh, not really,” I mutter.

“Oh, so, it’s just with me then?” His words would sound confrontational if not for the softness of his tone. He seems more curious than argumentative.

“Look, I’m sorry about all of that. I was just feeling a little insecure with all of the attention you were getting from the girls. I’m trying to be more mature about it, though.”

“Ahh, the girls,” he replies. “That’s what that was about. I don’t see what you’re so insecure about, though.”

“Well, I mean, you’re going to be a doctor, and you’re more athletic than I am.” Spelling out my insecurities isn’t exactly making me feel better about them. 

Paul shrugs. “I don’t even start med school until the fall,” he counters. “Besides, you had everyone laughing and that’s something I’ve never been good at. In fact, I’m famous in my family for telling the worst jokes.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, excited for an opportunity to pass on some advice about something I’m good at. “In my opinion, the main thing people get wrong about comedy is that they try too hard to be funny instead of just finding opportunities naturally.”

“You think so? Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.”

“It could be. Go ahead, just say what comes to mind without thinking too much about whether or not it’s funny.”

“Uh, ok, what’s brown and sticky?” he asks.

“I don’t know, what is it?”

“A stick!”

This is not a good joke. Like objectively it’s not, but he has this huge grin on his face like he’s standing on stage at a sold out comedy show, and I can’t help but laugh with him. Not in a mean way; he’s so pleased with himself that it’s kind of endearing. “It was good?” he asks eagerly.

“Well…” I choose my words carefully. “Maybe the joke wasn’t the best, but I think you have the right attitude. I’m sure if you start looking out for the humor in different situations then it’ll start coming naturally to you.”

“Ok, well, thanks for the feedback.”

“No problem. We should probably start gathering up that wood. What did you say we should look for again?”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[criminalcinnamon]

COOKING LESSONS (an alecody oneshot)

I wrote this during school lalalalalala

Alejandro sighed as he stood in the kitchen, faced with a clueless Cody.

"You know nothing of how to cook, really?" He raised an eyebrow at the shorter boy, who shrugged in response.

"Great." Alejandro said flatly. "What will you do if I am not home to make you food?"

"I dunno, probably just make some instant noodles or order takeout."

"You cannot be living off of fast food, Cody."

"I know." Cody sighed.

"Which is why I am going to teach you how to cook."

"But cooking is hard." Cody whined.

"No it is not, we will start with something easy."

"Like?"

"Soup."

"Really, soup? You know I don't like certain soups and like, the texture and stuff."

"I will let you pick the ingredients."

"Ooh!" Cody clapped his hands.

"Now, shall we get started?" Cody nodded eagerly.

Alejandro began to gather the equipment while Cody scribbled the ingredients he wanted on a post-it note.

"Have you made your decision?"

"Mhm!" Cody enthusiastically waved the paper in front of Alejandro's face.

Alejandro chuckled. "Hold it still so I can read it, remember?"

Cody nodded sheepishly and handed Alejandro the list he had comprised.

Alejandro smiled. "This looks good, we can work with this, now can you get the ingredients?"

"Of course I can!" Cody grinned confidently before accidentally walking into the fridge door, which won a giggle out of Alejandro before he went to check if Cody was okay.

"Are you alright?" He cupped Cody's face.

"I'm fine." Cody smirked. Alejandro smiled back.

Soon they had gathered the ingredients and had the pot of boiling water on the stove, Alejandro gently squeezed Cody's side, who laughed.

"Alright, time to chop the vegetables. Watch me do it first, okay?"

"I can do it without a demonstration, you know."

"Alright, I will watch you, though."

Cody grinned as he grabbed a carrot and placed it on top of the wooden chopping board before grabbing a knife and starting to (very shabbily) chop up the carrot. Alejandro winced when Cody finished.

"What?"

"Your chopping skills have... Character."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They could be better."

"Oh."

"Watch me, okay?"

Cody obliged and watched as Alejandro quickly cut a potato into neat cubes.

"Woah..."

Alejandro laughed. "Impressed?"

"Yeah!"

"Do you want me to guide your hands?"

Cody blushed slightly at the idea of Alejandro holding his hands and guiding him but nodded.

Alejandro stood behind Cody at the chopping board and took his hands in his own, he gently guided Cody as he cut up an onion, as well as carefully wiping Cody's watery eyes.

"Good job!" Alejandro grinned, ruffling Cody's hair, which made the other boy laugh.

"You think?"

"I know."

Cody felt his face flush again, god, Alejandro was... Well perfect, really. He sometimes found it hard to believe that Alejandro even liked him.

Soon, they had put all the vegetables (and two stock cubes) into the pot and were waiting for it to boil. Cody leaned back against the counter, getting a good view of Alejandro from where he was standing. Alejandro glanced down at Cody and noticed him staring. He smiled down at him and brushed away some of Cody's fringe that was covering his eyes, Cody sneezed in response, getting Alejandro to laugh.

"You really are cute, Cody."

"Maybe a little."

"More than a little bit."

Cody grinned. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Alejandro opened up the lid a few minutes later and peered into the pot.

"It is almost ready."

Cody - who was drumming his fingers on the countertop - grinned and rushed up to look.

"I just need to blend it, but we can take turns if you want?"

"Great!"

Alejandro smiled and grabbed the handheld blender.

Cody watched as Alejandro blended the soup, mesmerized by him, Alejandro noticed and chuckled.

"Cody. It is your turn." He handed Cody the blender and Cody grinned.

"Awesome!" Cody switched on the blender and started blending the soup, which started spraying EVERYWHERE.

"Oh shit."

Alejandro laughed and took the blender from him, turning it off and setting it to the side.

"I think it is blended enough, hm?" Cody nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Finally the soup had finished cooling down and Alejandro poured it into two bowls, Cody almost immediately started scarfing it down.

"Good?"

"Very." Cody grinned and Alejandro chuckled before wiping the soup off of his face.

"I am glad you like it, now you know you can make something when I am gone."

"Yeah! Maybe you can teach me other recipes too?"

"Of course." Alejandro ruffled Cody's hair and Cody laughed.

"This was fun."

"It was." Alejandro kissed Cody's cheek and the latter leaned against him.

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

Hope you guys liked this one!!! It might be a little bad cause I haven't written in a while but alas.

[inthedarkshadows000]

Thoughts at 3 am:

I love Kento's character. Though it's not the kind of love that craves his presence rather the kind that wants to make him experience the same comfort he brings into the life of others.

By bringing him those similar, weekly bouquets that he would get for his partner.

By being there infront of his work, leaning against the passenger door, to wait for him to get off work. Then opening the gate of the gate whith a tiny curtsy and a cheeky " Sir.." which always made him roll his eyes and sigh with an adorable frown.

"Love I told you it's my job to wait after work for you and open gates. It's so cold and I know you have been waiting here long, look at your ruddolf nose. Tch."

For you to just laugh and rub his freezing hands while moving closer. "Oh pretty boy, need I remind you again that you aren't my bodyguard but partner. Partners are supposed to be equal, so let me wait here like a little ruddolf because I know how good it makes me feel when you do it for me and I want you to feel the same. Now get in, we are going to that bakery, we spoke about."

"I am paying love. No arguments."

"Of course princess. I don't mind." And you really don't because you know kento takes pride in being able to provide for you. Which means he might relent to being pampered by these small gestures but when it comes to paying and such, it would only make his pride hurt. Which isn't something you are ready to do.

By diverting gojo's harmless rants and actions towards me because they don't bother me as much as they do Nanami. After all, he would be ready to do the same in any other situation.

Draping your scarf around his neck on a cold evening because, although he bundled you up like burrito, he forgot to do the same for himself. Silly goose.

Getting up extra early to prepare a royal spread of breakfast-in-bed with all his favorites. Just so see those pretty eyes fill up with joy, the first thing in the morning, while he tries to tell you how you shouldn't have and didn't need for you to go that extra for him. But you do because he deserves this and more.

Waiting eagerly for him, to return from his work, with a hot bath and scented candles ready for him to enjoy.

"But love don't you want to get in with me and relax? I am sure you had a tiring day too."

"Psh, no. I already took mine so I could focus on massaging your neck and shoulders instead of getting seduced by you. Now lean back so I can shampoo your hair."

By complimenting him so hard and so lewdly in public just to watch him turn into the prettiest shade of red. You know he is going to punish love you for that.

"Dayum you got an ass!!!!" Smack.

"love..."

~

"Yes pretty boy... just like that... so good for me. Always sooooo sweet."

"Mmhmm"

"Thats right you love being praised, don't you?"

~

"My handsome man. You look so good Ken! Good enough to be a goddamn meal."

"There are people here."

"You are right!! We should leave. Immediately!!!"

"But Yaga?"

"I'll tell him I am hungry."

And he just turns even redder as you scurry off giggling.

By randomly pulling his novel out of his hands and him out of the couch, where he was nestled. He has been into it long enough anyway. After all, how else are you gonna have him dance with you to his favourite song?

And dance you do, around the entire living room while he leads you like a pro. Twirling you away and then back into him, while you throw your head back to laugh, and spinning underneath his arm.

That's not enough though, because of course, he needs the experience too! So you stand on the sofa and spin him around.

So he can laugh his carefree laugh that you love so much and feel the love that he makes you feel.

All the while, he teaches you how to love and you show him what it feels like to be loved.