#(i need to promise to myself to not go that long without drawing again lol 😭😭😭😭😭)

[akkivee]

still kinda not over ichiro taking a bite out of his hamburger in the leaders bonus hypster track and going 'it's so good!! it tastes really meaty!!' lmao

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 19: Feet

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4965

Warnings: one instance of gendered language, the rest is gender neutral, foot fetish, foot job, toe licking, some angst for spice, reader is implied to have had a bad/abusive past but nothing is specifically mentioned in that regard

A/N: sorry I got so sidetracked for a minute there efvkefkeke but I'm back to finish these Kinktober prompts at last lol

⭐

You’re halfway through the door, tray of tea and afternoon snacks in hand, when you come to an abrupt, china rattling halt just over the threshold. That you very nearly send scalding hot liquid splashing across the floor doesn’t even seem to register in that moment as you incredulously widen your eyes at the back of Baizhu’s head. You’d expected to find the chair in front of his desk empty and the bed soundly occupied but — a quick, surreptitious glance at the neatly straightened sheets assures you you’re not imagining things, and you had in fact walked in on the exact opposite. 

What was he thinking?

“Doctor?” You call over, soft and politely tentative. 

He doesn’t even have the grace to act surprised at being caught, nor does he turn to look at you, and just keeps writing in the heavy ledger spread open before him without pause. 

“Ah, is it that time already?” He says over his shoulder in that always pleasant tone. “I thought I still had a chance to get a bit more work done before you came back and shackled me to my bed again.” 

“That’s not funny.” You sigh in defeat and shuffle further inside to come up alongside him at the desk. 

Standing there for a moment, you just watch him scribble away, dip his brush in the ink and carefully touch it to paper again before continuing on with nary a sign of interruption in the flowing script. You couldn’t quite make out what it said though — not because his penmanship was bad or anything. It was all clean and precise, and nearly perfectly balanced across the sheet but you didn’t know how to read half of the complicated characters, having never been taught more than a few of them. Baizhu was actively trying to rectify that but, well. You hadn’t quite made it that far yet. 

At last, you draw a pointed breath when he still won’t stop long enough to look up and actually acknowledge you. “What are you doing, doctor? You should be resting. You know that.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware you’re concerned about me overexerting myself and I do appreciate the care.” He chuckles softly, pausing to dip the long handled brush into the inkwell again. “But a tiny bit of inventory isn’t going to kill me, dear. I promise.” 

“Inventory?” You echo him in confusion. “How are you able to do that without looking in the storeroom or what’s stocked in the pharmacy?” 

Finally bringing his head up to offer you a small, gentle smile, Baizhu gestures somewhat vaguely at the room at large. “This is both my home and my livelihood, isn’t it? One would find me quite lacking if I wasn’t even aware of what inventory moves quickly and what lingers for a while. It’s not too difficult to estimate the daily needs of the pharmacy based on my years of previous experience keeping everything running as it should.” 

You were undoubtedly impressed by that, your brows lifting in surprise and something not unlike awe, and yet you still find yourself saying, “But what if something has suddenly changed and your estimates aren’t correct?”

Noising a brief sound of consideration, Baizhu lifts his unoccupied hand to thoughtfully touch the backs of his knuckles to his chin. “Hm, changed in what way? If there was a sudden influx of sick people all suffering from the same symptoms and, therefore, requiring the same kind of medicine, I certainly would have heard about it and could easily make the proper adjustments.” 

“But … I don’t know, what if someone was stealing from you?”

He blinks at that as he slowly glances up at you again. The tiny little smile that pulls at his mouth promptly makes you flush under his ever watchful eye. “Oh? And have you been helping yourself to my herbs, dear girl?” 

“N - no, of course not! I wouldn’t even think to do something like that!”

Chuckling, he serenely turns back to the ledger again. “I know you wouldn’t. I was only teasing you a little bit.” 

Trying not to pout and failing rather miserably at it, you turn your head away from him only to spot Changsheng curled up in a tight coil on the far windowsill, sunning herself in the mid morning sun. Well, at least that explained her suspicious lack of commentary thus far. Stamping down the urge to heave yet another sigh, you shuffle forward to place the tray on the corner of the desk. There wasn’t any use in trying to argue the matter further. Baizhu always had a ready answer on hand no matter what you questioned him about, and his need for bedrest was no different from the inventory in that regard.

“Would you care to sit with me for a while?” 

Your head comes up halfway through the motion of turning to leave, but his attention remains focused on what he’s writing. Perhaps you would have found it a bit off putting if only you were not quite so familiar with the doctor's usual habits and peculiarities. If he was asking you a question like that then it probably meant he was keen on having the company … or perhaps he just missed having Changsheng hanging off his neck. Not that you could exactly crawl on top of him and take her spot or anything but the sentiment was still a nice one, wasn’t it? 

“You wouldn’t find it too distracting to have me hovering around you, doctor?”

“Of course not, dear. Having you around is always such a pleasure.” 

Even the teasing tone in his voice is not enough to keep the smile off your face. Your initial misgivings are long forgotten now as you step behind his chair over to the other side of the desk where you eagerly hop up to perch on the ledge. Laughing under his breath, Baizhu reaches over to briefly dip the brush in ink yet again and then continues on with his work. Content just to be sharing his space with him like this, you watch on for what feels like a lifetime. It was always like that, though. You could have sat with him in complete silence all day and never gotten bored of looking at him. 

But it doesn’t last forever, and your skin tingles warmly when he eventually slides his free hand over to lightly touch yours where it’s braced atop the desk. It’s an idle gesture, one that he doesn’t seem to give much thought considering the way his brush just keeps flicking over the blocky characters without even a moment's pause. If you didn’t know any better you would have almost thought it a subconscious action. Something his fingers felt compelled to do for no other reason than the close proximity of another person. 

You were just as familiar with this part of him as his stubborn refusal to heed the warnings of others, however, so you allow your fingertips to brush over his palm. It was nice being able to share such quiet amity with him, and you suspected he felt much the same way as you did. A simple comfort. 

“There,” He finally sets the brush aside some minutes later with a satisfied exhale. “That should just about do it, I believe. I’ll just have to double check everything is as it should be once I’m allowed back into the pharmacy again.” 

“Doctor Baizhu,” You can’t quite keep the soft inflection out of your voice now. “I already told you those jokes aren’t funny. We’re not holding you hostage or anything like that …” 

His elegant shoulders softly shake as he turns that fond look on you again. “I know you’re not, dear. But the way you and Gui act it’s like you think I’m going to shatter at the first upset though. You know I’m more resilient than that, don’t you?” 

Frowning, you shift your attention down to your lap. Sometimes you weren’t so sure about that … but before you can figure out how to articulate that in a way that wouldn’t make you sound like an anxious mother hen (an ironic role reversal if there ever was one) Baizhu brings his hand up to rest across your knee. He gives it a brief squeeze that makes your pulse quicken, and you find yourself slowly glancing up from under the fall of your lashes. 

“Your heart is very much in the right place and I do appreciate it.” He tells you with perfect sincerity now. “I have no intention of admitting defeat so easily though. There are still many things I need to see to in this world before I can even think about crossing over to the next … teaching you how to read and write is right at the top of that list, for starters.” 

Your cheeks burn in shame and deep felt mortification alike. Baizhu had taken you in off the streets even when every shred of common sense should have dictated that it wasn’t a good idea to do so. Even Changsheng’s initial sass and uncertainty hadn’t been enough to dissuade him from it though, so you knew he wasn’t saying such things from a place of malice or discontent. He seemed to genuinely want the best for you — and that’s why you don’t protest when he runs his hand lower to comfortingly caress over your calf. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He assures you with a gentle pat. “You’ve already made commendable progress in just the short amount of time we’ve been working on it. I’m very proud of you, you know.” 

You squirm, growing increasingly more flustered the more he not only talks but also touches you with that gentle familiarity. “Thank you, doctor. But … I'm just not sure how I can repay you for everything.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. You did have one idea. 

But you were always hesitant to instigate these sorts of encounters with him, mainly because regardless of how many times you went through the motions together Baizhu never sought you out himself. It was always you doing the pursuing, coming on to him and offering up thanks the only way you really knew how. He seemed perfectly willing once things got started so you didn’t necessarily think it was a matter of him not wanting to share the intimacy of a lover with you, but it did make you doubt yourself just a little bit. 

Even now the brush of his fingers on your leg remains innocent and unassuming as if the thought of where else this might otherwise lead had never even crossed his mind and he was perfectly content with simply appreciating the warmth of your skin against his. You weren’t sure if it was a result of him being so used to Changsheng’s near constant presence around his neck that made him this comfortable with casual touching or if he was just like this naturally, but he seemed not to want for anything more than that. Were you possibly overstepping some unspoken boundary when you laid yourself bare at his feet? Was he perhaps too polite and kind to tell you ‘no’ even if he really didn’t want it? 

You truly had no idea. Baizhu was so unlike anyone else you’d ever met that you really couldn’t make sense of him sometimes. The inventory, the way he refused to take care of himself amidst taking care of everyone else, the touching, his insistence that you should know how to read and write … he truly was an enigma. 

“You needn’t worry yourself about unnecessary things like that.” He tells you, and the affectionately gentle tone in his lilting voice just further throws you into turmoil. “I didn’t invite you into my home with the expectation of receiving anything in return so no thanks are necessary. Just keep doing your best every day and I’ll be perfectly content with that.” 

And isn’t that precisely why he deserved to be on the receiving end of such favors? 

Stealing another quick look at the far windowsill, you confirm that Changsheng is still softly snoozing away before shifting on top of the desk to fully face him. Baizhu tips his head in question, looking totally unawares, and it almost gives you pause. It’s a little hard to shake the feeling that perhaps you were the bad guy here, like maybe you were the one taking advantage of him, but … surely that wasn’t the case, right? If he didn’t want it he would have said so, wouldn’t he? 

You feel uncharacteristically shy, almost sheepish as you curl your leg up and brush the ankle against his thigh in clear suggestion. His expression promptly settles into a neutral look of understanding. He doesn’t show any signs of being pleased or excited by it, but he also doesn’t look repulsed by your advances either. Just accepting. Of you, of this — archons, even when he wasn’t teasing you he was still the most difficult and confusing man you’d ever known. 

“This isn’t something you need to do for me. You must know by now that I’ll be perfectly fine without it.” 

Face warming with what you think is probably shame, you nod in understanding. “I do, but … I’d like to make you feel good, if that’s okay.” 

Drawing a stitled breath that makes his narrow shoulders rise and then fall when he lets it out on a slow exhale, Baizhu loosely curls his fingers around your calf. Drags them lower to give your ankle a reassuring squeeze and then further down to nudge off your slipper. It hits the floor with a near silent flop against the hardwood, and then he’s cupping the heel of your foot in his palm. Gently lifting it to chest level, he bends to press a chaste kiss to your toes. 

“You’re very kind to me, dear, but I hope you don’t think I expect such favors from you just for providing you with a roof over your head.” He murmurs, and you give your head a shake this time. 

“That’s not it. I know you don’t. I just want to be able to do something for you in return …” And this was the only thing you knew how to do with any amount of skill. You were neither a scholar nor talented in any trade. You couldn’t read or write. Some days it felt like you struggled just to serve the tea properly. 

But this was something you had plenty of experience in and you liked to think you did it well. That doesn’t exactly disperse the niggling thought in the back of your mind that tells you you’re somehow forcing yourself on the doctor, that you were coercing or forcing him to give in. There’s a certain amount of guilt that comes with this, on your part at least, but you can’t quite seem to find the resolve to stop doing it. 

And Baizhu does give in, though not without an almost sad, barely noticeable softening of his strange burnished gold eyes. Still cradling your foot in his hand, he presses his mouth to the sensitive pad this time to make your toes flex at the ticklish feeling before lowering your leg. You watch him carefully direct it to his lap and a dull thrill races through you when the weight of him through his pants meets the arch. Using both hands now, he takes a moment to just fondle over the extremity and massage his fingers into your skin. An unexpected shudder dances up your spine when he locates a particularly tender spot that seems to bleed some of the tension from your body when he presses on it. 

Of all the things you’d expected to have to do for him this one had been relatively low on your list. Liking feet did not appear to be so strange or unheard of in the grander scheme, but you can’t quite decide how you actually felt about him using only this part of you to get off. Certainly other areas would make him feel even better — your mouth, at least, but he always kept his attention on your feet instead. That embarrasses you a bit too, if you were being honest, but the way he softly sighs in budding arousal stops you from pressing the matter. 

If this was what made him feel good then you would happily give that to him. 

“Your skin has gotten even softer since the last time,” He murmurs, clearly pleased by that. “Those herb scrubs are doing wonders to reverse the damage done before you came here. It really is a shame you had to struggle so much just to survive.” 

“It’s okay, since I don’t have to do those things anymore.” And you intended to keep it that way, no matter the cost or what it took. Baizhu had given you a new life, a new purpose for existing, so of course you would want to repay him. It was only natural, right? 

When he smiles it picks up the edge of sadness you can just make out in his eyes, but his voice remains soft and even toned. “Are you certain about this? I know you always seem eager to please but …” 

“I’m sure. You enjoy it, don’t you?” Pointedly curling your toes to nudge them against the faint bulge under your foot, you keenly observe the way his dark lashes give a slight flutter in response. He stirs underneath you, becoming more pronounced. A little thicker. But still, he doesn’t immediately jump at the chance. 

“I do. More than I’d like to admit, if I’m being honest.” His fingers tracing over the jut of your ankle bone, Baizhu regards you in quiet contemplation for a long moment before drawing a careful breath. “Thank you for having me in this way, dear. I don’t exactly have the time to cultivate many relationships, and taking on a lover seems … ill advised, given my condition. As long as you understand that there is a limit to what I can give you in return, I have no qualms about it.” 

Your stomach sinks. So that was it then, wasn’t it? His hesitancy didn’t stem from a lack of wanting but wary caution when his own mortality always at the forefront of his mind, dictating all of his decisions. What he could do, what he would allow himself to do, how much he would comfortably let another person in. That was the crux. 

Perhaps you should have felt bad about chipping away at his self erected defenses to end up at this point where he was openly admitting it to you, but somehow you just really don’t. 

You feel emboldened, in fact, and you gently rub the pad of your foot over him with a fresh spike of courage searing your veins. Baizhu hums a low sound in response and lets his eyes slip shut for a moment, just basking in the sensation. It was vindicating, in a way. Knowing it wasn’t a problem with you or the burden you’d been carrying when you came to him. The fact he’d held out this long — no doubt wanting to avoid any further exploitation — was a testament to his strength of will, but he was still human. He was still a man with all the hardwired urges and impulses of any other. 

Just as you’d thought, then. You really were the only one who could take care of him in this way. 

Directing your foot a little lower down, you take a moment to gently nudge at and tease the weight of his ballsack between his legs. You can see the growing tent in his pants now, straining up just above your toes. He looses a shuddering breath and slowly rolls his hips forward to grind himself on you. A sense of reluctance still remains, you can see it in the tense set of his shoulders, but that doesn’t quite stop him from acting on it. 

“You’ve already done so much for me, doctor Baizhu.” You whisper into the suddenly static air. “Let me do something for you now.” 

Hissing a low sound of wanting, he tips his face down to watch your foot slide up the now rigid length of his cock. A glossy strand of hair slips forward to hang over his shoulder, matching the crystal bauble that dangles off his glasses. It swings softly at the motion, drawing your attention to it for a brief stretch, but his attention remains locked on what you’re doing in his lap. You can tell he wants to, so you reach up a little higher to toe at the sash around his waist. 

“Untie this for me?” 

Baizhu hesitates only for as long as it takes you to blink, and then he’s stiffly bringing his hands up to tug at the knot. It comes loose with a near silent slither, not unlike one that Changsheng would make, and you dart your eyes up to make sure she was still where you’d last seen her. It didn’t look like she’d so much as moved since you’d entered the room some time ago though. Hopefully she really was fast asleep over there in the warm sun or she at least had the sense to keep pretending to be. The doctor wasn’t afforded many opportunities like this, and you knew he’d put an end to it immediately if she alerted him. 

But for now at least, he makes quick work of getting his soft pants pushed down enough to allow his cock to spring up between the two of you. A hot pulse of wanting spears through you at the sight, your desire to do more with it than simply rub your feet on it almost overpowering your higher functioning mind. But you pointedly stay on track, and lift your leg to press that stiff length against his flat stomach. Using this to brace against, you start to rub the pad of your foot up and down, up and down the silky underside of him. 

Moaning very softly, Baizhu leans back in his chair to watch as if in transfixed silence. The light blanket he had resting over his shoulders fans out slightly with the shift, and you dare to scoot a little further over on the desk so that you’re sitting almost directly in front of him now. The soft rustle of movement settles back into silence again, interspersed only by the occasional chirp of a bird outside the window or the distant sounds of city life beyond. Lifting your eyes, you look Baizhu in the face. 

To your surprise, he’s looking back at you. 

“Thank you.” Is all he says, and the hushed tone of arousal in those two simple words makes your blood boil. Oh, how you wanted him to be yours so badly. 

“You needn’t thank me, doctor.” You murmur as you fan your toes out over the head of his cock and knead them down into the glans. It makes his chest hitch, his golden gaze taking on a far away, almost dreamy quality. 

Quickly, you bring your other foot up and snatch the slipper off that one too. You don’t even register the sound of it hitting the floor as you press in on the base to massage both ends of him at the same time. A faltering groan slips out of delicately parted lips, and he tips his head back to sigh up at the ceiling in appreciation. 

It’s a bit awkward like this, but you soon find a steady rhythm that has your feet moving over him in tandem while he sedately rolls his hips forward to fuck himself on the pads, arches and toes. Just as every other time it’s escalated to this, Baizhu shows no visible signs of uncertainty now and, in fact, he’s actually quite open about how much he’s enjoying it. You can see the deep rise and fall of his chest gradually become more pronounced, the muscles in his stomach flexing tight with each slow motion grind against your feet. He’s beautiful like this. Even more so than he usually is, and you idly wonder if he would allow himself to express his pleasure more vocally if it was just the two of you. No employees or snakes, or zombie children to potentially alert and interrupt the moment. 

Maybe if you did well enough he would let you find out some day. 

“Are you sure this is enough?” You finally venture to ask when his straining cock pulses eagerly under your toes. It was no exaggeration to say that you would have given him anything he wanted, no matter how strange or demeaning it may have been, but he only gives his head a distracted shake. 

“Yes, dear, just like this is fine. More than fine, actually.” Drawing a shuddering breath, Baizhu brings his attention back down as he lifts a hand up to grasp your topmost foot. He takes a moment to covetously squeeze it, feeling along the skin before carefully guiding it towards his chest once again. “I don’t think I’m in any position to ask for more anyway, but this is plenty. I’m afraid I can’t seem to get enough of these cute toes of yours as it is.” 

Your heart stutters a beat when he bends his head over your captured limb and instead of leaving it at just the kiss he reverently presses into the toes, he opens his mouth to lick over the thin layer of skin as well. The sensation makes you jolt, especially when he drags his tongue between the first two digits to attack the sensitive webbing inside. You seethe and try very hard not to yank your foot away when it tickles almost enough to make you squeal. Baizhu doesn’t appear all that concerned about it though, and he merely peers up at you from over the rim of his glasses. Watching your reaction, or perhaps gauging how much you could take before you couldn’t reasonably keep your voice in check any longer. Either way, he’d never taken it quite this far before and you had no idea what to make of it. 

Not the fact he was doing it at all or the startling revelation that comes with it. You hadn’t expected the space between your toes to be this sensitive, and you shudder despite yourself. 

“D - doctor …!” 

He lets out a low sound of pleasure, warm breath puffing against damp skin as he reaches over with the opposite hand to grasp the foot still keeping his cock pinned. Fondling over it, he maintains his eye contact with you when he swipes his tongue between your toes a second time, and you really do almost recoil. You’d never felt anything quite like it before. Soft and warm, and squishy, and you really weren’t sure how you felt about it wriggling over your toes like that. 

Pulling in a quiet gasp, you clutch the edge of the desk in a death grip while he grinds his throbbing cock against one foot and licks at the other. His breathing was quickly turning ragged, his cheeks a little flushed. It makes your head spin to see him like that, but somehow the borderline ticklish sensation of his tongue almost manages to distract you from it. 

If he ever put his mouth on the spot between your legs like that … 

“Ohh, goodness,” Panting, Baizhu hunches forward over your legs with a full bodied shudder. The motion of his hips falters for a split second and then morphs into something a bit more urgent. More needy. His cock stiffly works back and forth, back and forth across the soft arch of your foot, along the pad and up to nudge your toes before dragging back down again. 

It’s not hard to imagine him rutting inside your body this way, and it pulls a low moan from the back of your throat. The sound seems to tip him over the edge and, brows knitting in deeply felt pleasure, he presses his mouth firm against the bottom of the foot he’s still clasping, hissing against the skin. His sputtering length gives a muted twitch. You can feel the dull, subsequent contractions that follow as it pumps out a thin jet of creamy fluid to coat your extremity, and then another. He goes still with one final spurt, issuing a frazzled, sensitive moan that quietly trails off into nothing. 

The resounding silence is almost too much for you to bear. 

“I’m sorry,” He wheezes at length, once he’s calmed his breathing down some. “I seem to have made quite a mess.”

“It’s alright.” Trying to keep your voice pleasantly even, you curl your toes down into the softening cock to lightly massage it. “As long as you feel good that’s all that matters. I’m just glad I can do something for you …” 

Releasing a stilted exhale, he gingerly straightens up in his chair. You don’t miss the vague grimace that crosses his lovely face when he sees the sticky evidence of your illicit activities, and Baizhu softly tuts as he reaches into a pocket to withdraw a dainty handkerchief. He uses it to wipe up the clumpy mess with another soft word of apology, his hands gentle where they touch. Looking at him like that, bent over your feet and sincerely apologizing for something you’d talked him into doing, you once again find yourself being hit with a strange sense of guilt. It was only natural to want to thank him with such favors … wasn’t it? 

So then why did you feel like you’d done something wrong?

⭐

Crossposted: here

[tea-stained-notes]

Steve Rogers x OFC - Waiting On a Miracle, Chapter 6

After catching an infamous serial killer in the act, Julie Castillo is in line for the witness protection program. She is sent to a temporary safe house with U.S. Marshal Steve Rogers to protect her. Both of them scarred by trauma and tragedy, they find solace in each other. But how far will they dare to go?

Jesus fucking Christ, how has it been EIGHT months since I updated this story?! I swear, I have no idea why it's been taking me so incredibly long to get these chapters out 🙈 Anyway, I do have the remaining ones mostly finished, so I'm hoping to post them all soon - but with this bitch you just never know lol

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Series warnings: violence, death, angst, trauma, smut

Chapter warnings: violence and death (non-explicit), anxiety, trauma

Chapter word count: ~1850

Song(s) referenced: All I Ask of You (The Phantom of the Opera), The Point of No Return (The Phantom of the Opera)

Another minute passed before Steve had composed himself enough to speak again. “I grew up with two best friends. Bucky and Sam. We were like brothers, getting up to all sorts of mischief around school and the neighborhood.” “You and mischief?” I said with a small smile. “I know, Nat wouldn’t have recognized me.” I was relieved at the faint chuckle that escaped him. “We all had older siblings. Bucky and I had a sister each, Sam had two brothers. And at some point they all got entangled in this Uptown gang.” “The Outfit?” “God no. I mean, sure, every gang in Chicago is somewhat tied to the mob. But no, they were doing their own thing. And some of it was fun, I guess. But at some point our siblings wanted out.” Fresh tears formed in his eyes and I tightened the grip on his hands. He swallowed heavily. “One of Sam’s brothers was the only one who made it out alive. His legs so crippled he’s still in a wheelchair.” My mouth fell open. “And the others… Your sister?” He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “Sam and Bucky vowed to make them pay,” he rasps. “We were just kids at the time, around fourteen. But they made a pact and kept it. Both became cops, worked their way up fast, focused on street gangs. The one that had taken our siblings had grown exponentially, so they managed to get an undercover mission approved. They wanted to destroy them from the inside out.” “What about you?” I whispered. “I was still helping out at my parents’ business. A small hardware store. I’d thought about joining the guys but it would have killed my mom and dad to watch me walk into that hellhole every single day. We’d never gotten justice for Jackie and the others. They made me promise, they—“ He stifled another sob and I thought my heart might burst out of my chest at his pain. “The guys did well for a while. Gathered intel and planned a massive raid. Then a mole in the force blew their cover and…” Steve’s voice broke as a new fit of weeping overcame him. Without thinking I let go of his hands to pull him into a tight embrace, my fingers running soothingly through his hair. I had begun crying along with him, barely able to breathe “I’m so sorry” into his ear. He clutched me like a life raft.

After a few minutes he pulled back, exhaustion etched into his features. “I moved to New York a few weeks later,” he continued softly. “I trained as a cop and then marshal to… make up for failing my friends, I suppose. By protecting others in need. By putting their safety above mine.” “That sounds trying.” I only just noticed that my fingers had started drawing patterns on his arm. I could no longer stop touching him. “It’s worth it.” The small smile barely reached his red-rimmed eyes. I wondered how often he had to tell himself that. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.” His eyes shone warmly as he recognized the echo of his own words from a few days ago. “Thank you for listening.” I forcefully pulled myself away from him. For the fraction of a second it seemed like his hands wanted to chase after me. Ignoring the flutter in my stomach, I pushed myself to my feet. “I’m gonna get started on dinner. How about you pick a movie from our brand new collection? And yes it can be Beauty and the Beast.” He chuckled quietly and I cherished the sound, smiling myself before ambling into the kitchen.

When the credits started rolling I stretched and yawned languidly before turning off the TV. Steve had fallen asleep on his side of the couch, snuggled up in a blanket and perfectly relaxed. I couldn’t help staring at him. The glowing remnants of the fire colored him in shades of gold, smoothing his peaceful features even further. Just looking at him made me weak. It felt like he had snuck into the most secluded corners of my heart and the thought of having to say goodbye any day now was getting more and more unbearable. I had no idea what could become of this, of us. All I knew was that I had never felt this close to anyone. Suddenly his breathing changed, growing erratic and labored. His brows furrowed and he pressed out desperate pleas under his breath. “No, please no. Please. Stop!” For the second time today my heart leapt into my throat at the tortured sight of him. “Steve,” I said softly. “It’s okay, wake up.” But his imploration only grew louder as he started thrashing around, caught in the blanket still wrapped around him. He was panting hard now. I leaned forward to grab his shoulder. “Steve. Steven!” His eyes flew open and his hand immediately closed around my wrist, ripping it away from his body as his torso shot up. I ignored the pain and tried to catch his gaze instead. “Steve, it’s me. You’re okay, you’re safe.” His entire body froze while his eyes slowly focused on my face. He drew back his hand as if burned. “Julie. God, I— I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” “I’m fine. Just breathe.” I slowly reached out to him again, closing my fingers around his and he intertwined them without a second of hesitation. A quiet warmth ran through me. His breathing grew more even, his eyes focussing on something in the middle-distance. “Would you like some tea?” Now that I finally got to return the offer he had so often made me during my tortured nights, I realized with a pang in my chest that I had been too blinded by my own pain to truly see the one in him. “Yeah, thanks.

A few minutes later I sat back down with two steaming mugs, offering one to him. Steve smiled gratefully. We sat in silence for a while. “Did you dream about what you told me earlier?” I whispered eventually. He nodded. “I’m sorry if I brought that back up to the surface, I didn’t mean—“ “I get these nightmares all the time, it’s not your fault. Years of therapy and it all still haunts me.” He took a careful sip. “Yeah, the pain of losing someone you loved never really goes away. For me it’s this burning I get in the pit of my stomach whenever something reminds me of her.” “For me it’s here.” Steve rubbed across his chest. I nodded thoughtfully. “You know, whenever I had nightmares as a child my mom would sing to me.” “Of course she would,” he said with a tender smile. “What songs?” “Anything she could think of. Anything I wished for. But a favorite of ours was All I Ask of You from Phantom of the Opera.” “Will you sing that for me?” “Do you know it?” “Not really. I saw the show once but it struck me as… ” “Highly problematic?” We both grinned. “Yeah.” “God, it is. Even this song is, quite frankly. All these patronizing men pretending they know best what Christine needs when they all just want to own her. But some of the melodies and lyrics are still stunning.” “So will you?” He looked at me with gentle expectation, taking another long drink from his tea. I did the same, then set my mug down on the table. Although I had sung quite a few pieces for him, nervousness still crept into my veins. This felt different. Was different.

“No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you.” My heart began glowing at the memory of my mother’s voice and the mesmerized look on Steve’s face. “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.” I hesitated before Christine’s first line. Fire swept across my skin as the words crept up on me and I couldn’t tear my gaze from his as I shifted into the higher notes. “Say you love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you.” I swallowed heavily, then pressed out a nervous chuckle. “God, this song is so cheesy.” “What’s musical theatre without a bit of cheese?” replied Steve. A grin was spread across his cheeks but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his ease. I cleared my throat, then nearly stumbled over my words. “Actually though there’s this one bit that’s really heartbreaking. Raoul sings ‘Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you.’” I found myself gesticulating wildly, heat rising in my neck. “Yes, cheesy, but do you remember how the phantom eavesdrops on their duet and then in the penultimate number, The Point of No Return, repeats those same lines? And it really depends on who plays Eric, but Ramin Karimloo for instance does this so beautifully. I mean, he’s still a deeply disturbed man of course, but God, when he sings those lines you truly feel for him, it just breaks me every single time.” Steve just stared at me for a moment. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “I got carried away again.” “No, I love it when you get so passionate,” he said gently. “And I remember that scene, it was… quite something.” His eyes wandered over my face, briefly landing on my lips before he dragged them back up. The air between us was so charged, I could almost hear a sizzling through the blood rushing in my ears. Suddenly my entire body was screaming his name, forcing me forward, closer to him. My hand reached out to cup his cheek and a small sigh escaped him at the contact. His empty mug clattered onto the floor as he mirrored my gesture and pulled me close. With our foreheads pressed together, we shared a shaky breath. And just when I thought my heart might burst out of my chest with anticipation — he drew back. “I can't. We can't. I can't be distracted.” He closed his eyes, his brow creased in restraint. “I'd never forgive myself if my negligence got you hurt. Or worse.” Tears were pricking at my eyes. I yearned for him more than I had ever thought possible. “And what if you did everything right but something still happened to you or me?” “Julie—” “Would you regret not giving this a chance when you could?” His gaze locked onto mine. Intense and tormented. Then he briskly rose to his feet. “We should go to sleep. Good night.” He hurried out of the room while I just sat there, shell-shocked, my eyes still fixed on the empty space he had left behind.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 7

MASTERLIST

Tag List: @multifanworld @peguem-o-pombo-agora @cvanstagram @yslvtre @wandasrogers @littleredone88 @before-we-get-started @sophham @missaprilt23 @chrissusmissus @dvmb-whxre @daddydraco0 @quicksilversthings @thechoosenonecreator @rosellia-hudsons @lokirogersgirl @nekoannie-chan @readawaythereality2 @yal1d @hyperfixationhovel

[the-anonymous-vent-blog]

Idk man. I just need to scream to something or someone. I'm good at art. That's what I've been told. That's what i believe. That's what I spend most of my time doing. So tell me why the hell does everything I draw look like shit? I've tried dozens of times on a simple face and can't get anywhere. I know it sounds stupid, but if I'm not good at anything I do, I have no purpose. Every time I pick up a pencil I am filled with the urge to just rip chunks of skin off. But I can't do that, sadly. I'm trying to be clean but it's fucking hard when everything I do looks like shit. Everything I do I mess up in one way or another. I can't keep a job, I can't keep friends, I make everyone annoyed at me cause I'm fucking annoying, I can't commit to anything, I make my parents wishing I was different, I can't starve myself without caving, I cant purge, and I can't even hurt myself right. I kid you not, the only reason I haven't committed yet is that IM A FUCKING COWARD. IM SCARED TO. I'm stuck as me. Stupid little me that can't do shit and I can't escape. I just need to destroy something to get the anger out or something.

Sorry for throwing this all at you, btw lol

Hey man, it may seem hopeless to try and change, but I promise you can.

I'll address everything in the order you brought it up, so just bear with me here.

First of all, realise that everything looks like shit. Like, genuinely. You can pick and prod at the imperfections in all of the world's greatest artworks and find something wrong or something you think could have been done better. Try it! Everything is an ugly mess of colors and features melting together to create a hopefully intelligible scene. Beauty is genuinely in the eye of the beholder.

Also, get comfortable with failure. Revel in it. Do it on purpose.

Secondly, when it comes to keeping a job, I can't say I've got experience in that either, so don't feel too bad about it. Everyone's suffering in the current job market, so the faults not all yours.

Third, when it comes to keeping friends, I'll always give this one piece of advice: Get comfortable being alone. I've got a grand record of three friendships lasting longer than 2 years. One of them I'm not as close to them as I was at the beginning of our friendship. Of course, reach out to others. But when it's inevitable, choose to be alone.

Fourth, being annoying really isn't that bad. You're probably less annoying than you believe you are, and even then people love annoying. Like class clowns who are always surrounded by people laughing, or youtubers taking in millions by being obnoxious. They're annoying yet people love them anyways. Maybe because they're annoying. You just got to be confident in it. You will find people who love you anyways.

Fifth, it's most definitely a good thing you can't commit to self harm. That fear is a healthy thing, and a good thing too if it keeps you alive. I was too cowardly to die a long time ago, the same as you.

If you want to change, you must do so as a coward. You need to know who you want to be, something new you want to try, or habits you want to develop. Start easy, with something that requires the least amount of preparation or can be done on a whim, and throw yourself in the deep end. Make a decision and do it scared. Do it crying if you must. Sink or swim, and I cannot tell enough you will fail again and again.

You've just gotta remember there's a future where you're happy.

Lean on the people and things that can help you. You've gotta prioritize that happy future. Try to hang on to the small good things you have, because it will take forever to change. It takes years to see the smallest change, but it will happen.

Lastly, destroying something is a good idea. Expand on that. Can personally attest to wrecking things being an effective form of stress relief and anger management. Go hit trees and tear apart plants. Get a punching bag or just play videogames where you get to shoot stuff. Seriously, its good.

[eddie-sweetheart]

🏕 Camp Lovers Lake - Chapter Four 🏕

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader summer camp story. Set just before the beginning of season 3 of Stranger Things, with a few diversions from the original plot of the series.

🏕 Chapters List

Pairing and tropes • Eddie Munson x Henderson Female Reader - fluff, forced proximity, slightly slow burn, summer camp clichés ♥︎

Summary • June, 1985. Close to the city of Hawkins, Indiana, the placid waters of Lovers Lake stand as the perfect background for the homonymous summer camp, where you’re about to be a counselor for the last time before senior year and then, hopefully, college. Your brother Dustin Henderson won’t be with you this year, as he’s chosen to attend Camp Know Where until July - but with your best friend Robin Buckley at your side and the unexpected addition of Steve Harrington to your duo, the upcoming months seem to promise endless fun and exciting adventures nonetheless. However, as you get closer to Eddie Munson, resident metalhead and drug dealer who’s been forced by his uncle to work at Camp Lovers Lake after another missed graduation, your plans for the summer might have to go in a completely different direction.

Warnings • Cursing, possible mentions and/or depictions of violence, sexually suggestive language. Having no idea where this is going myself, you’ll need to be 18+ to read this fic just in case!

Chapter notes • Finally!!! I'm sorry for the delay, but it's been a crazy week and I kept coming up with new scenes that I wanted to include sooo this one needed some extra time! Hope you like it and hope it makes sense lol happy reading lovelies ✨

Chapter word count: 7.9k

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Someone wise once said that mornings are for coffee and contemplation. Add a little bit of extra sleep and that’s the heavenly combination you’d usually be craving as soon as the alarm rings, especially on school days. But not today, apparently.

Last night, after the hike in the summer heat drained you of most of your energies, you drifted to sleep almost immediately after dinner, the sounds of crickets chirping and Robin’s low chatter lulling you into unconsciousness. It was a long, dark, and peaceful sleep, without any kinds of dreams - none that you remember anyways, now that the warm sunlight welcomes you back into another morning at camp.

It must be quite early, because you can still hear Robin’s soft snoring and deep breaths below you as you roll in the white cotton sheets and turn towards the window across the room. You can’t see the sky from where you’re lying, but judging from the light that is growing warmer and more intense by the minute, it’s clearly going to be another hot, sunny day.

You check the wristwatch that you keep hanging on the frame of the bed, and find out that it’s 7 am. Breakfast won’t be ready until 8:30, so you decide to wait a little longer in bed, your legs now free from the sheets and leaning against the old wooden wall of the cabin. A solitary sun ray travels across the room and reaches you, drawing a glimmering streak on your pj top as speckles of dust twirl in its light. 

You check your watch again: 7:03. 

You don’t know why, but you really can’t stay still for much longer - your body refuses to lie down and something inside you feels impatient, and fluttery. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept so well and soundly that you’ve completely recharged your energies, but what’s sure is that today you’re feeling more excited than usual to get up, live the day, do things… see people. 

It almost clicks right there and then, when a small smile cracks through your lips while you play with the dusty air with one of your hands, making it pass back and forth through the glimpse of sunlight hovering above your bed. But, somehow, the excitement suddenly turns into some kind of uncomfortable bitterness, which makes you drop your hand on the mattress with a sigh.

After a few more restless minutes, you shake the feeling off and decide to get up early, for once. Mr. Smithson is surely at the Headquarters already, so you might get this chance to talk to him about Tim and Jason Carver’s brother - a topic that, now that you think about it, it’s better to be addressed as low-key as possible. 

Being as silent as you can (stealthy like a ninja, Steve would say), you climb down your bed, get dressed, quickly scribble a note for Robin to tell her that you’ve gone out and that you’ll see her at breakfast, and you finally sneak out of the cabin. 

The camp is silent, except for the relaxing sounds of nature. You realize that you’ve likely never experienced it with this amount of calm and peace, not even at night - there’s always someone sneaking around, a small cabin reunion or a bonfire going on. But now that it’s early morning and everyone is still asleep, it really feels like a wellness retreat from the chaos and loudness of urban life. 

You stroll straight towards the Headquarters, enjoying the warm air and the freshness of the shadows cast by the trees. As you pass by Steve’s cabin, you throw an unintentional glance at the window, noticing nothing else but darkness. 

Before heading to the meeting room, you stop a minute or two by the lake, your gaze getting lost in the vibrating green leaves reflected on its calm surface. As you graze the refreshingly cold water with the tip of your fingers, you decide in favor of asking Robin to go on a swim later today, maybe during your afternoon break. 

Snap. 

You turn around at the sudden noise coming from behind you, almost losing your balance and ending up with one foot in the water. You’re not scared, not like two nights ago when you found Eddie near the kitchen - but you’re startled nonetheless, so you take a look around. However, as you scan the space between the cabins and the grove surrounding the camp, nothing’s to be seen. So, you decide, it was probably a squirrel or a bird.

You check your watch once again and it’s not long now before everyone wakes up for breakfast, so you need to hurry if you want to catch Mr. Smithson alone. Before leaving, you try to shake some water off your wet tennis shoe, but there’s not much you can do - the damage is done now, so you’ll have to walk around with a soggy foot and let it dry in the sun later.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, you make your way towards the meeting room at the back of the Headquarters. You’re about to knock when the door swings open to reveal a chirpy Mrs. Janet.

“Oh, hello y/n” she exclaims, looking at you with a pleased expression of surprise, “quite the early birds today, are we?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Janet” you greet her back with a smile, “Yeah, I figured I could get up a bit earlier to have a chat with Mr. Smithson”

“Please, do come in, y/n” the director’s voice rises from behind the cook, “There’s still some time before we're being summoned into the dining room by the delicious smell of Mrs. Janet’s pancakes”.

Mrs. Janet happily scoffs as she moves to the side to let you in. “See you later, then, Richard” she exclaims, leaving the door ajar as she heads next door. 

“So” Mr. Smithson addresses you as he shuffles a pile of papers and files together, sitting at the table in the middle of the room. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

You sit down across from him and tell him everything about Tim and Peter Carver, suggesting that it might be useful to move the latter to another cabin. 

Mr. Smithson listens to you attentively, with his hands folded on the table and his head occasionally nodding when he agrees with you. When you’re done talking, he lifts his gaze up towards the ceiling, thinking. 

“I’ll talk to the rest of the staff about this” he finally decides, looking back at you with a smile, “so we can decide together the best course of action. In the meantime, thank you for telling me - you did the right thing, as we want to keep this camp a safe space for everyone. Now” he concludes, throwing a glance at the clock on the wall, “I believe it’s time for pancakes. You can go, I’ll catch up soon”. 

You nod in agreement, matching his smile as you get up and thank him before heading towards the door, which is still slightly open from when Mrs. Janet left. As you step outside, you suddenly remember that you didn’t mention the black vines and the hole in the ground to Mr. Smithson. But, as you move to go back inside, a familiar voice gets your attention. 

“Didn’t know you were a snitch”. 

You turn towards the sound, which is coming from your left, and find Patrick leaning against the outer wall of the meeting room, between the window and the door. You’re startled for a second, but as you realize it’s him your expression hardens. 

“I don’t see how what I do or say is any of your business” you state, crossing your arms on your chest. You’re feeling the resentment bubbling up inside you as you speak.

“Fair point” Patrick scoffs, cocking one eyebrow up in disdain. “I guess it’s not my business that you’re hanging out with freaks now, either”

The clear reference to Eddie makes your cheeks turn red with anger. He’s probably used to being called a freak, and he might even joke about it - but you remember the hint of self-deprecation when he mentioned all the names he’s been called, and even if he’s brave enough to claim them and turn them into titles to exorcise their original meaning, it doesn’t mean that you’ll let your ex insult him for free. 

“Could say the same thing about you” you talk back to Patrick, “but I’m not out there ambushing you to wine about your new friends”.

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t visit them at night, y/n” Patrick blurts out, taking a step towards you. “I saw you, earlier, coming from Munson’s cabin. What were you looking for in the lake, huh? Your lost dignity?”

You’re so taken aback at his blatantly misplaced accusations that you’re left speechless, but you snap back into reality as soon as he grabs you by an arm and drags you behind the corner of the building. You know he did it to avoid Mr. Smithson - who's now coming out of the meeting room to head to the kitchen - but it does nothing but enrage you even more.

“Don’t you dare touch me again” you hiss at him, “and don’t even try to pull that bullshit on me. If your stupid little jock brain didn’t notice, all cabins are on the same two paths, so, hello? I just walked in front of Harrington’s. But I’m not going to explain myself to you any further - and for god’s sake, stop. stalking. me.” you conclude, taking a breath.

Patrick blushes violently, his mouth hanging open as he realizes just how pathetic he sounds. You know he’ll never be like Jason, because all it took was a little resistance to his attempts at bullying to make him crumble like a sandcastle.

In the meantime, campers have started to emerge from their cabins, as it’s finally time for breakfast. You can see them right around the corner, grouping in front of the Headquarters porch - and, among them, you catch a glimpse of a familiar wavy shag.

“Y/n” Patrick addresses you, his tone hard and arrogant once again, but with a new hint of insecurity in it. “You really should think twice about who hang out with”.

You bring your eyes back to him, your gaze icy as you stare at his face. “Yeah, try telling that to yourself” you reply, firmly putting an end to the conversation. Then, you move to walk past him, just to find his hand tight around your arm once again.

“I mean it, y/n” Patrick whispers in your ear, his voice almost trembling as he squeezes you hard.

A little farther away, Eddie notices you struggling against Patrick’s grip. Your eyes lock with his for a second, and you see him taking a few steps in your direction. At the realization of what might occur, you shrug Patrick’s off of you, giving up on talking back or blurting out a remark - you just want to get out of there without anyone else getting involved.

You move quickly towards the Headquarters, passing by Eddie. You really don’t feel like explaining what has happened, so you just give him a small smile and a wave and steer clear of him. He softly smiles back and watches you walk away.

— 🏕 —

“Come on, it’s definitely not freezing!” Steve exclaims, watching Robin retreat on the pier after dipping the tip of her toes in Lovers Lake’s waters. 

It’s early in the afternoon and, even if it’s still the beginning of June, it already feels like full-on summer. Popsicles melt at the speed of light, birds and squirrels hide in the cool shadow of the trees until sunset, campers only play sports in the early hours of the morning, ditching them for quieter board or card games when the sun is at its highest point in the sky - and, of course, as soon as any counselor has a slot of free time, they use it to find some much needed refreshment in the cold waters of the lake.

And that’s exactly what you and Robin planned on doing now, after spending the whole morning getting hand cramps while making friendship bracelets with a group of camper girls. You actually didn’t mind the activity, as you loved trying different shapes and motives with the colorful threads; you even made one for yourself, pink and light green with tiny white flowers, matching Robin’s light blue one. However, the idea of taking a swim and getting rid of the never-ending, always-flowing sweat pearling on your exposed skin and giving a break to your tired fingers really felt like an alternative worth pursuing. 

Robin definitely agreed - at least until you reached the shore of the lake after lunch, beach towel in hand and swimsuit on, and tested the water. It was then that Robin absolutely changed her mind, striding towards the pier to the tune of “I’m not going to get a congestion, not today”.

You trailed behind her with a roll of your eyes and a smile, guessing that persuading her to get in the lake with you would be easier after some basking in the sun. It was still you, however, the one sitting with your legs dangling in the fresh water when Steve Harrington swam towards you from the shore. Miraculously, he had the same free time break as you, so he has now joined your mission to convince Robin to be brave and dive in - with scarce success, indeed.

“Nope” Robin protests, sitting back on her towel, drops of sweat on her forehead betraying her need for refreshment. “I’m not risking it, not yet. I’m not fully trusting your first aid skills in case my stomach freezes and I get cramps and drown” she blurts out at Steve, looking at you with raised eyebrows to find some support.

You sigh affectionately, leaning back from your own seat to pat her knee. “Take your time, Robin” you tell her, before removing your sunglasses and placing them next to her, away from the edge of the pier, “But I’m going in, if you don’t mind”.

“As you wish, dingus” she exclaims, turning her body to lay on her stomach. “Just let me know what you’d like to write on your tombstone” she adds with a smirk as you get up and take a deep breath before diving in.

The sudden cold takes your breath away as you float underwater, the bubbles from your dive fizzling around you. For a few seconds, time slows down and you enjoy the peaceful feeling of being suspended in the dark water - then, with a kick of your feet, you emerge back on the surface, the sun warming your face as you wipe your eyes and open them again. 

“Is it that bad?” Steve eagerly asks you, swimming closer in case you need some help - being less salty than the sea, it’s slightly harder to stay afloat in lake water, but you’re okay. 

You can’t help but shiver for a second, earning a victorious “Ah-ha!” From Robin. “Actually” you address her, “it’s a bit of a shock at first, but you get used to it in a second”. 

You hang out like that for a while, chatting in the water as Steve occasionally displays his swimming skills, earning approving (and slightly mocking) claps from both you and Robin. He shakes his hair every time he re-emerges, lake water droplets shooting in your direction and causing Robin to yell at him to “stop acting like a damn puppy”. 

After a while, though, even Robin surrenders to the heat. After a painfully slow ritual consisting of dipping one single body part at a time in the lake, she finally joins you in the water - still refusing to admit that it’s quite a manageable temperature. 

“So, besides hiking, sports and making friendship bracelets, what else are we going to do all summer?” Steve asks, passing one hand through his wet but still incredibly good looking hair. 

You and Robin exchange a look, not knowing where to start with the list. 

“Well” Robin begins, “there are cooking classes, painting lessons, board game nights… if the projector is still working after Gareth crashed into it last year, we might do a couple of outdoor movie nights as well”. 

“And, if you’re lucky, don’t forget hike number two and three” you chip in, “be sure that you’ll know every single flower and leaf on that path by the time September comes”. 

“You always take the same route?” Steve asks, “you’ve never gone on a different one?”

“We tried asking the director last year” Robin replies, kicking her feet in the water, “but he said it’s better to stay on the trail we counselors know best, just in case something happens. And guess what? Nothing ever happens”. 

Your mind flashes back to the image of the dark roots and the hole in the ground. You figure that, since you completely forgot to mention it to Mr. Smithson, you could maybe tell Robin and Steve and see if they believe it’s something worth sharing. 

“Well, I actually noticed something yesterday” you begin, Steve's and Robin’s eyes now on you. “Eddie and I were walking back when I tripped on a root. I checked it out and it led us to a sort of… hole? In the ground? It wasn’t properly a cave, but it was big enough to fit a small kid. And there were black, slimy vines coming out of it - I’ve never seen anything like that, and I’ve passed by that spot enough times, for sure”. 

Robin hums as she ponders on your words, while Steve’s expression grows more curious and his face gets almost imperceptibly paler. 

“Black vines?” He asks you, his voice slightly trembling, “with slime on them?” 

“Something like that, yes” you reply, wondering if he knows more about it. “Why, have you seen them too?”

Steve shakes his head, his gaze lingering in the bright blue sky. “Mmmh, nope, didn’t notice” he replies, grazing the surface of the water with the palm of his hands, “Was that the spot before the path running downhill to the lake?”

“Yeah, exactly”, you confirm with a sure nod.

Water drops run down Steve’s forehead as he passes a hand through his hair. “Weird” he says, “I was there last night and I didn’t see anything. Maybe it was too dark-“

“What the hell were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?” Robin interrupts him, splashing him in the face.

Steve turns to her, color coming back to his cheeks. “I was taking a walk” he replies, almost too casually.

“Alone?” Robin echoes him, eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“Uh, no, actually” Steve coughs, “I was with Tammy Thompson”.

Robin’s eyes widen visibly as she turns towards you. “See? I told you” she almost yells, punching the water to underline her annoyance.

“What?” Steve exclaims, dropping his hands in frustration.

“Oh, nothing, Steve” Robin replies, a full-on fake smile plastered on her face, “But you can call me Cassandra from now on”.

“Who’s Cassandra?” Steve asks you with a confused look, “Do I know her?”

You’re refraining from exploding into a heartfelt laugh at their exchange, but you manage to stay serious even when Robin mutters out a stressed “Jesus”.

“Sorry to break it to you, Steve” you tell him, patting his shoulder, “but she’s a mythological lady. You can’t date her”.

“But you still have Tammy Thompson, if you need to spend the night with someone” Robin chips in, “if you haven’t already - spent the night with her, I mean”.

Steve scoffs, splashing some water in her direction. “I’m not like that” he talks back, “I’m a gentleman. I would never impose myself on someone I barely know. We just talked, walked around a bit-“

“Exchanged some saliva” Robin interjects under her breath, a smirk appearing on her lips at Steve’s frustration. Her growing amusement is a clear sign that she’s already gotten over the initial blow.

“…and that’s it” Steve remarks, “I walked her to her cabin and I went back to mine. Because I’m a responsible guy, and I didn’t want to be late”.

“That’s a good boy” Robin jokes, pushing him slightly, but making him smile a little. “So your secret for staying this handsome is getting lots of beauty sleep, uh?”

“I wish” Steve replies with a sigh. “I actually slept like shit because I had to endure Munson’s flashlight all night. When I came back he was scribbling something into a notebook and he might as well have fallen asleep at dawn, because I had to drag him out of bed or he’d have missed breakfast”.

At the mention of Eddie, your attention peaks.

“Did you see what he was writing?” You ask Steve, tiny waves of water rippling around you as you swim towards the pier - the sun is starting to lower on the horizon and the water is now cold, rather than refreshing. 

“Honestly, I didn’t even try” Steve replies, following you and athletically lifting himself up on the wooden platform. “It’s not like it’s any of my business, you know? And maybe he wasn’t even writing, he could have been doodling or whatever”.

“Maybe he keeps a diary” Robin suggests, grabbing your hand as you help her up. 

“Could be” Steve observes, “even if I don’t see what could possibly be so interesting that he has to write about it all night”.

“Maybe it was music” you suggest, throwing your towel around your shivering shoulders. “He’s in a band, you know”.

Steve and Robin both look at you, eyebrows up in surprise. 

“And how would you know that?” Robin asks. 

You shrug casually. “We talked a bit” you reply as you start walking back towards the cabins. The others follow quickly after you. 

“Talked like Steve talked to Tammy?” Robin elbows you, her question followed by an annoyed scoff from Steve. 

“Ew, Robin" you instinctively reply, “of course not”. 

Robin puts her hands up in defense. “Okay, sorry for suggesting that you may like someone - you know it’s not a crime, right?” She observes, throwing one arm around your shoulders, “I mean, it’s not like I trust your taste in guys that much, but you’re the one who always tries to convince me that he’s such a good guy-"

You throw her a burning glare that makes the words die in her mouth, but you can’t stop the knowing smirk that has just formed on her lips. 

“You could ask him tonight” Steve suggests once you reach his cabin. You throw a quick glance in its direction and realize that it’s empty - and you don’t know if you feel relieved or disappointed. 

“What do you mean?” You ask Steve as your mind goes back to his suggestion, your hands tightening the towel around your body as a light gust of wind makes its way through the trees. 

Steve crosses his arms on his chest, tilting his head as he speaks again. “About what he was writing. You could ask him tonight at the bonfire”. 

You still can’t follow, so you turn to Robin with an inquisitive look - but her shaking head reveals that she has no clue as well. 

“Oh, yeah right, I haven’t told you” Steve adds once he’s met by your confused eyes. “Jeff told me they’re planning to have a bonfire night” he explains, “it was that other guy’s idea - Gareth, I think he’s called. Munson will be there too, and when they came to our cabin to plan it, Jeff invited me. He said that I could bring you two as well and that there will be booze, so I figured why not”. 

“How come you’ve just got here and you’re already making more social connections than us?” Robin asks him, “Thanks for the invite, though. I’m bringing marshmallows” she adds as she begins walking away, brushing past Steve with a shake of her head. 

You move to follow her, but you don’t leave before sticking a finger at Steve. “I’m coming, but I’m not asking him anything” you specify, eager to make it clear that you have no interest in meddling with Eddie’s business - and, privacy, for all that you know. 

Steve puts his hands up, not a care in the world. “As you wish, y/n”. 

— 🏕 —

The lively and vibrant mood of Camp Lovers Lake doesn’t disappear during the night - instead, it transforms into a different kind of atmosphere. 

As you and Robin sneak out of your cabin, flashlights still turned off in your hands, you can’t help but smile at your surroundings, apparently calm and peaceful as a dreamless night, but secretly awake with young life. Everyone is supposed to be asleep, but here and there little flashes of light glitter in the dark, peaking from half-drawn curtains and ajar wooden doors. Every now and then, a faint giggle echoes through the trees, followed by the rustling of leaves as pairs of tennis shoes tiptoe on the shadowy edge of the two paths running through the cabins.

You perfectly know that campers are sneaking around and meeting in each other’s cabin, some of them occasionally wandering in the closer areas of the grove around camp. But you haven’t always been a counselor, of course: you remember your own camper days so well that, with an unspoken understanding with the rest of the team, you let them be - knowing that they are perfectly aware of the consequences of getting caught or lost (and surely no camper wants to be either) while you’re ready to step in if necessary. After all, you’re sneaking around as well - but this time with a six-pack under your arm, which you very innocently smuggled among your clothes when you were packing, thankfully without your mother noticing.

Robin’s elbow gently nudges your side and brings your attention to the now completely dark Headquarters, standing wide and wooden at the end of the empty trail in front of you. You two have been crouching behind a tree for some time, waiting for the official lights-out that has just occurred - followed like clockwork by the chirpy chattering of the director and the rest of the staff, who are now closing the main door of the building before heading towards their own separate rooms at the back of camp. Apparently, they’ve been hanging after hours as well - probably sipping on that badly hidden Scotch you’ve spotted behind the oil cans in the kitchen.

“You’ve wanted to wait here and now I’m all cranky” Robin whispers under her breath, “at least pay attention - they’re gone”.

“Tell me how we were supposed to spot the lights going off from our room” you remark as you straighten up, peaking behind the tree to check if the road is clear.

Robin attempts to speak, but ends up opting for a grunt as you gently grab her wrist and make her follow you into the dark. You walk silently towards the Headquarters, turning right towards the bathrooms when you reach the end of the path.

Next to the separate wooden structure that hides the camp showers, three intermittent flashes of light announce Steve’s presence. Being the gentleman that he is, he suggested Jeff and the others go ahead and start setting up the fire while he waited for you - a very gallant gesture that also allowed him to take a few extra minutes to complete his hair routine. 

As soon as you and Robin spot him, you close the distance between you and him with a few more steps, until you’re all grouped up at the edge of the woods.

“Ten sharp - perfect timing” Steve announces, his eyes briefly glancing at his wristwatch as he spins the flashlight in his other hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yup. We’ll lead the way” Robin enthusiastically replies, quickly throwing and catching in the air a bag of marshmallows before opening it and picking one to nibble at while you walk. 

“Jeff told me the spot is on the shore - are we going in the right direction?” Steve hesitates as he realizes that you’re moving towards the trees and bushes across from the Headquarters.

“Dear Steve” Robin addresses him, her grin shining in the night as she turns her head around to face him, “do I really need to remind you that it’s not the first time we’re heading to a secret bonfire, so we’re going to take the shortcut counselors have been using for years to reach the only spot near the lake that is not visible from camp so that no one notices that we’re setting up an illegal fire?”

You let out a small chuckle as you catch Steve’s surrendering look in the flashlight gleam, wondering what he would say if he knew that yes, you and Robin have taken that path before, but just to find some privacy and silence to read or chat without anyone interrupting - and that this was, actually, your first time at a secret bonfire, too. 

Not that you and Robin didn’t have friends at camp. You knew basically everyone and often participated in counselor-only events like horror movie nights or board game tournaments in the meeting room. But you’d never formed a closer group of friends, an inner circle to share other kinds of experiences with - like adventures that weren’t exactly allowed or performed in the daylight, such as late-night swimming or, indeed, lakeside bonfires. 

It was mostly because you and Robin got along so well and had known each for such a long time that you enjoyed your company more than anyone else’s, cracking inner jokes or laughing at shared memories. But it was also hard to get closer to others (campers first and counselors later) when every friendship circle was, by now, clearly defined. It was a bit like school, to be honest.

That’s why you've brought the six-pack with you this year: together with Robin, you've made the decision to expand your duo a little, and alcohol seemed like the perfect excuse to do so. Sure, hanging out with Steve Harrington this much wasn’t exactly what you expected - even if he was inexplicably close to your brother Dustin, you’d never shared more than a few words and greetings with him and he’d always looked a bit too much on the popular side for you. But, since he seems to be a well-fitting addition to your small group, you guess that he can count as a new friend. He is, after all, a nice dude.

While you reflect on this, you keep walking in the dark, making your way through the vegetation that has been running uphill for the last few minutes.

“Got it” Robin exclaims after a while, grabbing a tree branch for support as she lowers herself to climb down a small crag on the side of the path, back towards the lake. 

Through the now sparse woods, you catch a glimpse of bright red light and you overhear laughter and chatter. You’ve finally reached the bonfire spot and, as you reach out to grab the same tree branch Robin has just used, your heart skips a little beat - which, for now, you blame on the excitement of doing something new and forbidden. 

“Need help there?” Steve proposes, holding out his hand for you to take, but you’re already down with Robin. “Okay, then” Steve shrugs, shaking his head at the rejection as he climbs down and catches up with you. 

You scramble through the last few bushes and finally get back into the open air. This side of the lake looks like a little cove: the shore curves softly towards the hill at your back, creating a short but thick strip of sand and pebbles that’s blocked at its sides by big rocks scattered with wild plants. 

You can’t see the few permanent lights of camp from here, which means two things essentially: first, your group and the fire that’s blazing in the middle of the cove can’t be seen, either; second, as your gaze lifts up to the pitch black sky, a myriad of glittering stars invade your eyes, making your head spin with their beauty and multitude as you walk towards the trio waiting for you around the bonfire.  

“Hey guys! You made it!” the boy that must be Jeff exclaims, welcoming you as soon as he spots you. When he speaks, two other figures turn away from the fire and in your direction, revealing Gareth and Eddie with a beer in their hands.

You timidly wave at them and your heart unexpectedly skips a beat once again. Gareth waves back with a warm and kind smile, a slight contrast to his very metal and not-so-summer-camp look: a black and red checkered shirt with ripped sleeves, layered over a Black Sabbath t-shirt. You’ve never seen him without the camp uniform, so it takes you aback a little bit - but not as much as seeing Eddie does. 

He’s standing tall against the red light of the fire, a black and worn-out leather jacket draped on his broad shoulders, shielding him from the cool breeze that’s rustling his long curls. Underneath the jacket, you catch a glimpse of a t-shirt with a devilish logo on it, the thin cotton clinging to his abdomen and tucked into his jeans. A denim vest adorned with multiple pins and patches completes the look, somehow making him look even taller and broader. 

He looks like the ultimate version of himself, one that makes him feel more confident and in his element, and it’s showing - in his stance, in the way his head slightly tilts while taking a sip of his beer, in the way his fingers drum on the glass of the bottle, which tinkles against the steel of his rings. For the first time since you’ve known him a few days ago, you clearly realize how good he looks. Especially when he throws you one of his upside-down grins to return your wave. 

“Yeah man, thanks for the invite” Steve replies to Jeff’s greeting, snapping you back into the moment as he high-fives and fist-bumps him like they’ve known each other for years. 

Both Eddie and Robin look at the exchange with eyebrows raised and a surprised look, before glancing at each other inquisitively. 

Steve mouths a curious “what?” in their direction as you all step closer to the fire, taking a seat on random rocks and battered trunks that the guys have placed around the flames. 

Your six-pack is placed near the water, so that the slow, cold waves refresh the cans with their constant flow; three more beers from another pack are handed to you by Gareth and Robin’s marshmallows get stuck on thin branches that Jeff collected from the woods, ready to burn and sizzle on the fire. 

You’re sitting on a tree trunk next to Steve and, after a while, you end up discussing animatedly with him and Gareth about the best movie of the year - a match that has come down to Steve’s choice, Back To The Future, and yours and Gareth’s pick, the upcoming The Goonies. 

“How can you vote for a movie that you haven’t even seen yet?” Steve’s exclaiming, but you distractedly miss Gareth’s heated remark as you throw a casual glance at Eddie. 

He’s sitting on a flat rock to your left, so you can only see his side profile. The flames of the bonfire cast flashes of red and orange on his face, in a dancing game of shadows and light that enhances his features. He’s talking with Jeff and Robin about music and guitar brands, his hands fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. Your eyes follow his fingers and the glittering reflection of the fire on his multiple rings as he extracts one and places it between his lips. His eyebrows shoot up as he laughs at something Robin says, lips jerking up in a smirk that shows the brown tip of the cigarette between his white teeth.

You unconsciously match his smirk with a small smile of your own as he bows his head a little to light the cigarette, the tiny flame flickering for a few seconds in his deep brown eyes. As he lifts his head back up, wavy hair bouncing at the side of his face, their chocolate irises turn to meet yours for a brief instant - making you blush in the dark as you snap back to Steve and Gareth’s conversation. 

“If you put it like this” Gareth is saying, “then I’ll go for Cat’s Eye”. 

Steve firmly shakes his head as he takes a bite of his burnt marshmallow, chasing it with a sip of beer. “Never heard of that one” he states as he gulps the mix. 

“Are you crazy?” Gavin sighs, “Three Stephen King stories and Drew Barrymore? That’s the recipe for the perfect horror movie”. 

Steve shrugs. “Not a big fan of horror, to be honest” he replies. “Not my genre. It’s not even that scary most of the time”. 

“I bet you couldn’t go through a full horror movie, though” you joke, nudging Steve's side and causing him to look down at you with a defiant look. 

“Try me” he simply states, causing you to roll your eyes with a scoff. 

“It’s not like we have a VHS player and a tv at hand right now” you reply, sipping on the last of your beer. 

Gareth chips in with a mischievous smile, nodding towards Steve. “I think I might have just the right alternative. Hey, Eddie” he exclaims, causing his friend, Jeff and Robin to turn towards you. “Why don’t you tell Harrington about Creel House?”.

An owl hoots in the background as Eddie stares at Gareth with a questioning look, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth. “Like, right now? Why?”

“Y/n here said Harrington wouldn’t last through a horror movie” Gareth explains, throwing you a complicit wink, “so let’s give him a chance to prove her wrong. If there’s something as scary as a horror film, that’s our very own, real-life haunted house”. 

“There’s a haunted house in Hawkins?” Robin curiously wonders as she stuffs her mouth with a couple more marshmallows.

Jeff looks at her in surprise. “You’ve really never heard of it?” He asks, his eyes darting between her, Steve and you just to be met by hesitant denial from every direction.

“Alright then, ladies and gentlemen” Eddie sighs, putting out the half-smoked cigarette, “let me present to you a story of satanic worship, ritual sacrifice… and murder. Told to you as my own uncle Wayne told it to me” he theatrically declares, placing his now empty bottle of beer on the ground as everyone huddles closer to the fire - and to each other. Which means that now you can feel the thick denim of Eddie’s jeans brush lightly against your skin, as his knee grazes your leg for a second.

“Imagine Hawkins back in 1959” Eddie begins, his voice lowering and almost becoming one with the crackling of the fire, the chirping of the crickets in the woods behind you and the soft sound of the water washing up on the shore of the lake. “Everything all tidy and clean, front yards perfectly well kept, people always dressed up with their best clothes. A very nice place, quiet and neat - and very beautiful new houses popping up at every corner and at the end of every cul-de-sac. A small town paradise, you could say”.

You listen attentively to his every word, the lilt in his voice and the ever-changing movements of his hands capturing you in the story. 

“One day, a new family comes to the delightful, safe haven of Hawkins - Mr. Victor Creel, with his wife Virginia and his little kids Henry and Alice. They’ve just bought a beautiful house, and it’s huuuge. There are rooms everywhere, and they settle in nicely. But-“ Eddie continues, his index finger shooting up as he speaks, “something is not quite right. After a month or two, one dreadful night changes everything: possessed by a sudden, maddening rage, Victor Creel slashes his whole family - not even the kids make it out alive. When the police arrive, they find them in the entrance hall and oooh boy, that’s a dreadful scene: every bone in their body is broken and twisted, their faces frozen in a cry of horror… and their eyes are gone in a pool of blood”.

As he suddenly roars those last words, he lifts up his arms and covers each one of his eyes with one hand. Across from you, Robin gasps loudly, causing Jeff and Gareth to snicker under their breath. Next to you, Steve seems quite unfazed.

“The official version of the event that the police came up with is that he lost his mind, just like that” Eddie says with a snap of his fingers as he picks up the story again, his sing-song tone back to normal. “So that is why he’s locked up into Pennhurst, where they are still studying his case today. However, some suggest a different story - and one of them is Victor Creel himself”.

“That’s my favorite part” Gareth chips in, popping another bottle of beer open as Eddie resumes speaking, the flames of the bonfire glittering in his eyes.

“Mr. Creel claims that his family was killed by an evil, vengeful demon” Eddie reveals, nodding as Robin whispers a soft no way. “He says that he tried to call an exorcist, but it didn’t help. So, the demon got even angrier and killed his lovely kids and wife, sparing him as a form of punishment. So, what is the truth? Did he attempt to summon a spirit and it turned wrong? Did he make a pact with the devil and didn’t respect his terms? Was he just a crazy psychopath always one step away from murder? No one will ever know” Eddie concludes, his gaze going over the astonished audience with satisfaction.

“What’s even crazier, though” Gareth steps in, addressing a still unimpressed Steve, “is that the old house is still standing. And some people swear that sometimes, when you pass by it on the street after sunset, you can see flickering lights coming from its broken windows. Even if no one’s been living there for years”.

“Well, that’s strange” you observe, a shiver involuntary running down your spine - probably due more to Eddie’s storytelling skills than to the actual story. 

Steve shrugs in response. “I’ve seen stranger things” he replies, his voice apparently calm - but you catch the way in which, at the mention of the flickering lights, he tightens his grasp on a piece of wood sticking out from the trunk where you’re sitting.

“Well done, Steve Harrington! You’ve passed the test” Robin jokes, throwing a piece of candy at Steve - which he manages to avoid with a swift movement of his head.

“Was that really necessary?” He questions her, pointing at the marshmallow on the ground as they start bickering under the amused looks of Jeff and Gareth.

A gentle nudge on your leg makes your head turn.

“Scared?” Eddie simply asks you, the light from his tilted smile reaching his eyes as they set on yours. His knee doesn’t move: it keeps leaning against your thigh, and even if it’s just a tiny contact spot you can still feel the heat of his body warming you up.

“It was creepy, I’ll give you that” you reply, the thought of him being so close to you weirdly stuck in the back of your mind. “But I think the scared one was actually Robin” you add, nodding towards her - who’s still arguing with Steve about the stickiness of marshmallows.

Eddie follows your gaze and lets out a soft chuckle at the sight of your friends, then quickly turns his attention back to you. This time, however, he’s staring at your exposed legs.

“Oh, but I see chills” he observes with a knowing smirk as he notices the tiny bumps on your skin. “That’s a pretty obvious sign, y’know?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Munson” you jokingly retort, this time nudging him with your leg, “they’re from the cold”. 

It could have sounded like a blatant excuse, but it’s gotten quite chilly since you first arrived at the bonfire spot - so, yes, now you’re shivering slightly and wishing you’d brought more than a cotton sweatshirt to camp. It also doesn’t help that the fire is significantly milder, its flames almost reduced to a cluster of burning embers.

After a while, indeed, everyone starts feeling the drop in the temperature too - and as soon as the first yawns start interrupting your conversations, you realize it’s probably time to head back.

So, once you’ve made sure that the bonfire is completely extinguished, with Gareth even throwing a handful of sand and some lake water on the burnt wood, you start heading back towards the trail that leads to camp. 

If coming down from the downhill that led to the shore was relatively easy, climbing back up to get to the woods is definitely harder. Eddie and Gareth go first, grabbing random branches to get some leverage and push themselves up; Steve and Jeff, instead, stay behind to let watch yours and Robin’s back. 

You take a few steps ahead, Eddie and Gareth looking down on you and reaching out with their hands. “I think I can make it” you say, closing your fist on a thick branch and sticking a foot in the steep ground in front of you. You manage to lift yourself up and almost make it to them - but as you’re about to put your other foot to the top, the branch suddenly snaps, making you gasp in shock.

You don’t fall back, though. A hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you up and making you crash into something soft - which, you soon realize, is Eddie’s chest. 

“Got ya” he says, letting you free of his grasp once he’s made sure you’re steady on your feet. Caught in surprise, you instantly take a step back - but the feeling of the softness of his body beneath the cotton of his shirt is burned on the palm of your hands.

“Thanks” you mutter, stepping aside to let Robin come up and mentally scolding yourself for being, once again, way too clumsy. And, also, desperately wondering why you’re blushing so violently. 

Thankfully, though, it’s too dark for anyone to notice; and as you all make your way back to your cabins, the night grows even more pitch black. Until, a few hours later, the first slivers of faint yellow light start lingering over the horizon.

— 🏕 —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Feedback is always welcome!

Taglist •  @meaganjm @emwhite1 @juggernort @final-girllll @mermemerald @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @stardustworlds @eddiesbirdie @carolineesnell

[yesimwriting]

All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know. 

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

--

ALEKSANDER. 

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate. 

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her. 

--

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.” 

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?” 

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?” 

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.” 

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.” 

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.” 

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.” 

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.” 

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.” 

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.” 

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.” 

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.” 

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you. 

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war. 

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct.  Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.” 

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag. 

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat. 

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly. 

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?” 

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.” 

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep. 

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful. 

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?” 

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful. 

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own. 

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--” 

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.” 

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?” 

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.” 

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers. 

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament. 

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...” 

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her. 

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.” 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

[herotome]

Devlog #71

Hi-ho, Wudge here! First off, I’d like to thank everyone for your continued patience; since I started more actively prioritizing my health, I’ve gotten to accomplish more overall, compared when I pushed myself to the brink of a breakdown (as I’ve been known to do in the past...). It’s still slow-going, but steadier than ever.

Last Monday I timed myself with pomodoro, so I’m able to give out concrete numbers for once (just for fun):  I wrote about 850 words in the span of 2-3 hours - depending on if you count the 1 hour break!)

I did more writing than that throughout the week, but I thought it was cool that I got close to 1,000 that time. :D

On a Herotome front... well, I didn’t make any new progress on the Clammy Lady, but I did promise a picture. So here!

Original on the left, redo on the right. The most notable change will be her hips - better flow, better proportions. I also shaved down some shoulders and elbow edges, and will be flattening her hair to give it a wetter look.

I also worked on some hairstyle concept art for our super secret love interest... I can’t show it just yet though, for obvious reasons. :^)

I made a new label in the code (which made me feel a LOT better and more accomplished) because the scene I was working on had exceeded 700 lines... and apparently my original standard was 300 lines per label. :’) So yeah!! I more than deserved to move onto a new label lol.

I also made a more overview-focused trello board for Herotome: 

...because I had to sit down and prioritize what needs to be done for release (...writing), and what I’ve been pecking at just for fun (...drawing random sprites). So my categories are: Pivotal, Polish, and Plus.

“Pivotal” items means the next installment cannot be released without it (eg, the writing lol. lololol).

“Polish“ means it’d be nice to have for the next installment, but can be excluded.

“Plus“ is just me being extra - like drawing sprites that have no business even appearing in the next installment.

So... yeah, getting steadily more organized on top of making progress, ahaha.

On a BaM front; I’ve relocated to writing in a fresh document and divided this final part of the secret ending into 6 bite-sized subsections. It took me a long time to get into the right mindset to properly organize and find the “soul” of this last bit, but I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel!!! And Abigail and Lucius are bantering again, halleluiah! I can’t thank everyone enough for all the kind words and excitement about this little story, your support keeps me going even when outside factors bring me down.

Honestly last week was a bit rough, but I got through it and I’m okay!

I hope you’re all staying safe and keeping warm.

Much love,

Wudge.

[writingonsaturn]

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol 

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

  --

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile. 

“Come on, that was funny.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.” 

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?” 

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.” 

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around. 

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year. 

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.” 

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right. 

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--” 

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.” 

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.” 

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?” 

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.” 

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.” 

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed. 

“What do you want?” 

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.” 

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking. 

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?” 

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.” 

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything. 

“What is it?” 

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?” 

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel. 

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.” 

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.” 

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--” 

“I’d feel more assured.” 

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.” 

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.” 

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label. 

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father. 

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings? 

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.” 

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow. 

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.” 

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.” 

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent? 

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.” 

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.” 

“Really?” 

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek. 

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.” 

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.” 

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?” 

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.” 

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.” 

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.” 

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.” 

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.” 

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.” 

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body. 

“Y/n?” 

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?” 

“You’re being quiet.” 

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.” 

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.” 

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.” 

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep. 

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him. 

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine. 

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words. 

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.” 

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.” 

“Now you’re sure?” 

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.” 

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.” 

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine. 

--

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up. 

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously. 

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare.  I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently. 

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

 My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me. 

“Y/n, I--” 

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.” 

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once. 

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?” 

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I  thought I had lost you.” 

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.” 

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand. 

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.” 

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.” 

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--” 

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

“If anything ever happened to y--” 

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?” 

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”  

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage. 

“Y/n?” 

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him. 

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?” 

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares. 

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?” 

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.” 

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--” 

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--” 

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.” 

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?” 

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.” 

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.” 

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?” 

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.” 

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.” 

“I am not tired.” 

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.” 

“I can see it in yours too.” 

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.” 

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know. 

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest. 

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?” 

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.” 

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”  

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.” 

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight. 

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips. 

[lucky-draws]

hii I was just wondering if there are any songs you associate with particular mgs characters or ships? any playlists? I need recs for mine!! ty <3

HELLO!!! um OK i don't have any playlists of my own but there are definitely a bunch of songs i associate w mgs ppl/ships... (apologies in advance for a lot of them being by the same band LOL)... erm maybe what i’ll do is i’ll just list them here first without any explanation but then under a read more i will post the same list but with some thoughts/specific reasons why so you can choose whether to listen blind/draw ur own conclusions OR to read my thoughts beforehand etc, i wont talk abt every song tho just a few of them, SO yeah: by Depeche Mode: Judas - ocelot Bottom Line - ocelot Halo, Personal Jesus, Only When I Lose Myself - bosselot In Your Room - bosselot, or any other ship (horny) (lol) Never Let Me Down Again - kaz Walking In My Shoes - big boss Mercy In You - otasune/david pov Black Celebration - otasune Barrel Of A Gun - david, maybe venom snake too Policy Of Truth - sort of kaz and bb but more generally just like. lies. betrayal. etc. just general horny songs by the modes which u could apply to whoever include Rush, Higher Love, World In My Eyes (< that one’s kind of bosselot?) by the Pet Shop Boys: Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots Of Money) - Kaz (lol) Pandemonium - bosselot? Two Divided By Zero - otasune? vaguely... by Kraftwerk Computer Liebe/Computer Love - dr strangelove/strangeboss (lol), also maybe otacon actually (idk if there are any others by them i’d specifically relate to a character BUT. just the general electronic loneliness might bring some vibes to a playlist....i will just list some of my fave kw songs for fun lol: Radioactivity, Radioland, Airwaves, Ohm Sweet Ohm, Neon Lights, Pocket Calculator...) by Duran Duran Is There Something I Should Know? - very vaguely bosselot View To A Kill - a cheesy james bond film song but that makes it snake eater esque and therefore kind of bosselot or mgs3 in general (snake eater itself also definitely works as a bosselot song....get that tree frog in your playlists) by The Jam Thick As Thieves - bbkaz? ok that’s all i got for now rly, apologies that these are all the same kind of uh genre sort of. if u dont like depeche mode or synthpop in general then i guess this was no help at all.......LOL.......really tho depeche mode and metal gear just fit so well together in my opinion it’s a win if ur a fan of both....

so yh anyway hope u manage to fill your playlist!!! have a good day :-) <3

ok errm i wont talk abt every song bc that would be a lot but i’ll do the ones i have the most to say abt/think they need explaining/can actually articulate something abt:

Depeche Mode:

- Judas - ocelot and his devotion to bb. religious suffering. martyrdom. all the shit ocelot does for big boss. yeah.

- Bottom Line - kind of ocelot also, his devotion to bb again but specifically like. idk 'the apple falls, destiny calls, i follow you' was the line that made me go (!) bc i saw a post on here where someone i think it was a user called captmelbourne mentioned the whole. ocelot born from a snake shaped scar thing. 'destiny and shit' was the words they used i believe and like! fucking. exactly that... idk. ocelot and bb being so weirdly horribly intertwined bc of the boss is what makes me go insane every time

- Never Let Me Down Again - i sort of relate this to bbkaz like from kaz' pov...the 'he' the song talks abt being bb...'im taking a ride w my best friend. i hope he never lets me down again. promises me im safe as houses (as long as i remember who's wearing the trousers.)'..... just the whole kaz caught up in euphoria of being w bb except we know and maybe he himself knows that it will not end well. bb's power/control over and eventual betrayal of kaz etc. u know?

Pet Shop Boys: - Pandemonium - maybe the type of music itself doesnt feel that bosselot-ty but the lyrics sort of are, from bb’s pov marvelling at ocelot’s general lunacy, ‘in major trouble since u were almost a minor’...’sometimes i think we’ll both explode’...just their crazy dynamic basicly - Two Divided By Zero - you could see this as like philanthropy otasune, always on the run kind of thing....? idk its just a song that i like LOL ...half of these are like my fave songs anyway that i also happen to go (!) what if i forced this to be related to mg somehow LOL

Kraftwerk - Computer Love - just makes me think of strangelove + the ai pod, loneliness, literally ‘computer love’ in terms of building the ai as a replacement boss kind of thing.....and also maybe more generally otacon? makes me think of him pre-meeting snake, his lonely nerd era etc Duran Duran - Is There Something I Should Know? - only vaguely bosselot but i class it in similar vibes to snake eater ish, just the cheesiness, ‘don’t say ur easy on me, you’re about as easy as a nuclear war’ is very metal gear i think LOL, just in general mgs3 bosselot meeting, same w View To A Kill The Jam - Thick As Thieves - just vaguely bbkaz, ‘like a perfect stranger you came into my life, like a perfect lone ranger you rode away..’ just friendships falling apart etc...more childhood friends in the song than uh whatever bbkaz are but ya know, just vibes

[sunmoonandeddie]

edge of the devil’s backbone

pairing: knight!bucky barnes x princess!reader

word count: 4,918

summary: Your knight has sworn to protect you always, even if that means committing a grave sin.

warnings: Smut, cussing, violence, murder, angst with a happy ending.

a/n:  Lol I really hope you enjoy this.  Bucky is kinda dark but??  Not really???  Also, I suggest listening to Devil’s Backbone by The Civil Wars while you read this.

It’s midnight when he slips into my room, Selene’s soft light guiding him to the bed where I lay, dozing peacefully amongst my mountain of pillows.

A slumber he hates to disrupt, but knows that he must.

To leave me without a word, without a goodbye and a promise to return one day when he can, would be the utmost betrayal to the delicate heart he holds in his hands.

“Princess,” he whispers.  Slinking through the room like a cat, he manages to not make a single noise loud enough to wake me.  It is not until his fingers gently brush against my cheek that my eyes flutter open.

“James?  What’s going on?” I ask, brows furrowing as I slowly push myself up on my elbows.  One hand holds the blanket to my chest, as though it’s anything he hasn’t seen before.

James is… familiar with my nightgowns, to say the least.

“I have to go,” he whispers, his hand shaking as he cups my cheek.  “I have to go before they catch me.”

“What?”  I lean into his touch instinctively, not even thinking about the strange wetness on his fingers that I feel.  “What do you mean?  What did you do?”  When my eyes adjust to the light, I realize what he means.

James’s white undershirt is stained with blood, the hot liquid smeared across his cheek like it is on mine now.

Letting out a squeak of alarm, I rush to look him over, trying to find any injuries to speak of.  “What happened?!  Are you okay?!”

“I killed him.”

I freeze, my hands pressing against his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.  Despite the chill of the oncoming winter, he is so, so warm.  Even with the knowledge he has given me, there is nothing I want to do more than drag him closer and make him cocoon himself around me to keep the cold away.  There is nothing that could ever make me not love him anymore.  Even murder.  I would still run to his embrace and spend the rest of eternity in his arms.

A foolish dream, considering our stations.

Even though James does love me the way I love him, my father would never allow a union between the two of us.  James has been my personal guard since I was young, barely five years old.  A peasant boy granted the honor of training to be a knight because he had found me after I had been kidnapped by bandits and kept for a ransom.  He’d just been fourteen at the time, and braver and smarter than my father’s entire army.

But no, none of that matters.  According to father, princesses must marry princes, who will make good kings.

Anyone with any sense could see that James was worth more than every prince and king put together.

“You killed him?  What him?” I ask, rushing to get out of bed to grab a rag.  I wet it carefully before moving to his side to gently clean off his face.  Even though I want answers, that doesn’t matter as much as getting him presentable again.

But he pushes my hand away, his sea blue eyes glimmering with something that causes a pit to form in my stomach.  “My princess…  My love…  I have to go,” he says, taking my hands in his and squeezing.  “I killed Prince Brock, and they will know it was me come morning.  I have to go…”

“James, don’t be ridiculous,” I scold as I try to start cleaning him off again, tugging to get his ruined shirt off.  “You need to change.  We’ll make it so they’ll have no idea it was you.”

James whispers my name, his bloody hand coming up to cup my cheek as though I am made of glass.  “They will know it was me, and regardless if they didn’t, the king would still pin it on me…  My affection for you is not exactly the world’s best kept secret…  And we both know how the maids like to gossip…”

Tears prick my eyes, and I shake my head desperately.  “No.  No.  You cannot leave, I forbid it!” I say, clutching onto him desperately.  “James, you cannot leave me.  Please, don’t leave me.”  My throat is suddenly dry and tight, my heart pounding within my chest so hard that I am sure I will not make it out without a few broken ribs.

A small price to pay if only my knight will stay by my side.

“You have stayed by my side for sixteen years, do not leave me now,” I order, trying to put on my most commanding voice.  I have been practicing for when I eventually become queen, but it has never ever worked on my most precious knight.

A choked laugh tears from James’s throat.  It’s harsh and broken, a far cry from the usual melody that I chase after.  “My love…  If I do not leave now, they will have me in the gallows by noon,” he says quietly, his forehead pressing against mine.  “Or worse, on the chopping block like a hen ready for the feast.”

I try to push the images from my mind, tears freely flowing down my cheeks.  “No.  No, they won’t know it was you.  Please, don’t leave me…  Or at least take me with you…  Please…”

“I need you to promise me something, princess,” he says as both his hands hold my face, his calloused thumbs rubbing against the tender skin under my eyes to get rid of wayward tears.  “If they catch me…  If I am sentenced to death…  Do not watch.  Do not watch them hang me or draw and quarter me or behead me, whatever it is, I forbid you.  Do you hear me?  I said, do you hear me?!”

“They can’t kill you, I won’t let them,” I sob, still somehow trying to get him to stay.  “I’m the princess, they have to listen to me.”

I have not gone a single day without seeing him in over sixteen years, and I do not plan to now.

But it seems as though there is nothing I can do to stop him.

The silk of my nightgown slides against my skin as I trace his features with my fingers.  “Will you come back to me?” I ask desperately after he denies my request another time.  “Once it is safe, will you please come back to me?  Come home?  I cannot live without you, without knowing you will come back to me one day…”

“I will,” he says reassuringly as he takes one of my hands and presses kisses over each fingertip, each neatly trimmed nail, each line in my palm.  “I will…  I swear to you…  But I could not let him live after today in the garden…”

“I am not angry with you,” I whisper reassuringly as I watch him, trying my best to memorize even the smallest of details.  “You swore to protect me… from anyone and everyone…”

“And I shall always keep my promise.”  He says it with such conviction, with such a fire in his eyes.  He always had, which is partially why I am not surprised that he punished the prince for his crimes against me.

When it comes to my safety, my happiness, James is the judge, jury, and executioner.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he pulls me closer, letting his eyes shut as he allows himself the comfort of knowing that Prince Brock had not gotten far enough to truly hurt me, to permanently mark me.  “I told him that nobody who touches you without your permission gets to keep their hands.  He didn’t believe me until about an hour or so ago,” he grumbles.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t fight the giggle that erupts from my lips.  “My hero…,” I murmur as I look up at him.  As my eyes meet his, I am reminded that he needs to leave.  “I will miss you…  Please…  Try to find some way to write to me…”

“I will,” James says, his nose nudging against mine.  His blue eyes sparkle with tears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.  “Steven knows I am leaving…  He knows what I have done.  He is the one you can trust with your safety now, the only man I trust with your life, and he is outside your door now.”  Chapped lips press against my forehead for a lingering moment.  “I will write to him, and he will get the letters to you.  I swear on my life, princess.”

“Before you go…”  I take a deep breath.  “Before you go, will you grant me a kiss?  Just one…”

It is a request he does not think hard about, grabbing my face and kissing me so gently I think I may wither away from the sheer tenderness.  “I love you,” he says, stealing another kiss from my lips, over and over again.

It seems that now that he has started, he cannot stop.

Or will not.

I will not argue either away.

“I love you…  I love you more than words can say, James,” I say, fingers tangling in his long hair.

“I must take my leave, my darling… my dearest,” he breathes out.  “Before dawn comes and the lark sings…”  He stands, his weight disappearing from the bed, and a pang hits my heart.  “You must get sleep, my sweet nightingale.  Once they realize what has happened and that I have disappeared, they will question you for hours, I am sure, if not all day.  But rest well knowing that when you wake, I will be safe and waiting until I may come back for you.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I hold onto his hand for as long as possible.  “I cannot watch you leave,” I whisper as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You don’t have to, my love,” he says soothingly, pressing a kiss to my hair.  “Rest…  I will be home to you before you can even miss me…”

His hand slips from mine, and I do not hear him leave the room.  “James, please don’t leave me!” I say as I open my eyes, thinking he was still there.

But he had slipped through the door without a sound and left me alone in my cold bed.

My dearest,

It has been a month since I left you, and it has been the hardest month of my entire life.  I did not have the time to write to you until now because I was unable to get my hands on some parchment and a quill, and I had some trouble finding some place where your father and King Alexander could not reach me.

I cannot risk telling you precisely where I have had the luck to find myself, on the off chance that the letter is intercepted.  I cannot see why it would be, as it is carefully hidden with a letter written to Steven, but considering the man that I know your father can be…

Well, I am aware that I shall not need to explain more than that.

What I can tell you is that the sea here is beautiful.  The journey here was hard, filled with storms and a tumultuous sea, but it was worth it.  Though, it would be much better if you were with me to see it, my love, but you already know that.  Seeing the sun rise on the blue water—Water clearer than any I have ever seen before!—made me hopeful for the first time since I left your side.  In fact, the dress that you wore to your father’s last birthday feast is the exact shade of the sea here.  The soft sand reminds me of the gold trim, the white diamonds embedded in the leather…

Do you see what you have done to me, my love?  I miss you so, my heart longing to see you again, to hold you, that I have started to wax poetic about your gowns.

I cannot start on the way the flowers here remind me of the scarlet rouge you use to stain your cheeks and your sweet lips or I shall never stop.  But, I have dreamed of your lips each night, of the way that my name falls like a prayer, of the way you told me you love me…  I dream of kissing you again.  More mornings than not, I wake with tears on my cheeks because of the need I feel to have you close again.  I had waited for so many years to finally tell you how I feel, despite knowing the way we both felt it, and the night that I did, I had to leave.

It feels like a tragedy from one of those books you like to read so much.

One of the sailors on the ship guessed that I had left a woman behind that had broken my heart, and he told me that time would heal the gaping wound.  It was all I could do to explain to him that I had been the one to break both of our hearts, and that time could do nothing because I am counting the days until I may run to you again.

Time may also do nothing because of the depth of my adoration for you.

I wish that I could tell you where I am so that I may receive a letter in return.  I hope you do not regret what happened the night I left, the kiss.

I hope you will still want me, still love me, when I return to you.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been a year since I have seen you last, since I left your side, and I fear I am on the verge of dying if I cannot get a glimpse of your sweet face soon.

Despite writing to you every few weeks, I feel as though there is so much more I can say.  Every tiny little thing that occurs during my days, I wish to tell you.  I wish to tell you so you do not think that I am at the taverns, flirting with every wench that I set my eyes on.  Despite the way they bat their eyes, they can do nothing to even catch a glimpse from me because I am always picturing you.

Have you thought of me since that night?  I imagine you have had to, since I am writing to you and I am sure that Steven is getting these to you.  He may be a dunce in some things, but he is generally a capable man.

When I saw you in your bed that night, slumbering so peacefully, my first thought was that you looked like an angel.  I had been worried that I would be scared to touch you, to even set my eyes upon you, after what I had done.  But all I felt was reassurance that I had done the right thing.

I still cannot apologize enough for leaving you alone in that garden for so long.  Despite knowing that it technically wasn’t my fault, considering that the king had called for me to discuss the journey back home, I am wracked with guilt.  I should have had a servant fetch Steven to take my place while I was gone before I left.  But, I was naïve enough to assume that the palace guards that were present in the garden would protect a princess, even from their prince.

Coming back and seeing you so upset, panicking as he gripped your soft, sweet body hard enough to bruise…  I had realized when I looked at you that you thought I had abandoned you.

I hope you know that no matter where I am, I have not abandoned you.  I could never leave you forever, my dearest.

Your handkerchief no longer smells like you.  I had swiped it from your room as I left, needing something to comfort me on my journey.  I sleep with it pressed to my nose so that I may see you in my dreams.  But now it has lost your scent, and I have been on a search to find the perfume that you wear so that I may buy a bottle and need not worry about it losing your scent again, but alas, I have not been able to come across it.

I fear it would not smell exactly like you anyway, my love, and I would simply be disappointed.

I have pressed a few more flower petals to send to you, but I may not be able to send them again for a while, as winter will be here soon.  Even in this warm kingdom, it brings a chill that withers the flowers and crops.  Until then, I shall send you as many as possible.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been two years to the day, and I can only pray to whatever gods that I will be able to be with you forever soon.

Did you get my present?  I snuck into the palace after deciding that I couldn’t wait much longer to see you.  Even if I was not able to speak to you, just seeing your angelic face as you slept gave me a moment of peace.  My heavy heart was lightened.

You may need to hide the letters I write you better, it only took me seconds to find your hiding spot.  Of course, your father doesn’t know you as well as I do, so he most likely won’t think to check behind your mirror.

The necklace I left on your pillow is inlaid with pure opals and diamonds.  I had never heard of opal, I must admit, until I found my way here.  It is a great source of pride in this kingdom.  I knew the second I saw it that you would look absolutely stunning in it.

Perhaps you will wear it on our wedding day.

Every day I grow fearful that your father will find another suitor for you and force you to marry him before I can make it back to you.  I know how adept you are at avoiding the princes and lords that he shoves in your direction, but what can I say?  To see you with another man, even if you did not truly wish to be with him, would kill me.

I have been on a ship again for the last few weeks, so unfortunately there is not much to write to you about.  But please, know that you are in my thoughts every moment of every day.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

I have just gotten the news of your father’s passing.

I am on my way home to you.

All of my love,

Your James

I sigh as I sit on the throne—my throne.  Mere hours before, I had been crowned as the new queen of my kingdom.

The scepter is heavy in my hand, the cold metal seeming to burn my skin.  How can I do this on my own?

My father raised me to be a queen, a wife, but not to rule.  I was raised to be the queen to a king, to support the man I end up marrying as he rules the kingdom.

But the only man I will ever marry is not here.

Steven is standing beside the throne, his hands clasped behind his back.  He has been good to me the last few years, as I have waited desperately for the day that my love, my true knight, will come home to me.  “You are troubled,” he says quietly as the both of us watch the nobility dance in magical patterns that draw the eye and lift the spirits.  “You should be excited, Your Majesty.  Today is a day of great celebration.”

“He isn’t here,” I say.  It’s all I need to.  His last letter is pressed against my breast, hidden inside my gown.  The necklace he left for me is heavy around my neck, the precious jewels glinting in the light.  “He said he was coming so where is he?”

The prince that had been seeking my hand before my father died is present, his gaze continuously finding me as he slowly works his way closer.  Over the past weeks, I’ve been able to avoid his advances with claims of my grief.

As if I could ever truly grieve a man as cruel as my father.

“It is possible his ship may have been caught in a storm,” Steven comments, trying to soothe my anger.  He has seen how unstable my emotions can be when James is not close by.  “He will be here.  You know he will, my queen.”

I am growing more and more annoyed as I realize that I will soon be expected to join the dancing.  But dancing is the last thing I want to do without my love there.

Beside me, Steven tenses, and I watch as his blue eyes flit around the room.  “Interesting…,” he says under his breath, almost too low for me to hear.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.

“It appears that your latest suitor has disappeared.”

What?  Brows furrowing, I look around the room, pointedly searching for Prince Quentin for once.  Sure, he is a handsome man, but his blue eyes are forgettable when I compare them to James’s.  ��Well, perhaps he found some maid to consort with in the gardens,” I say with an eye roll, quickly giving up on the search.  “It is not as though he is getting any sort of connection from me.  Let him have his fun.”

Steven snorts, his head dipping for a moment.  “I think it is time for you to join the dancing,” he says simply, in a tone that makes me wonder what he has up his sleeve.

He knows something that he is not telling me.

“Fine,” I say with a glare in his direction, getting to my feet.  I hand my new scepter off to the servant who has immediately rushed to my side, the song currently floating in the air coming to an end.  A new one begins as I step into the fray, easily joining the dance.

I am so swept away in the swirling skirts and joyous laughter of the crowd that I do not notice the man that had joined the dancers on the other side.

Passing from partner to partner, I keep a fake smile plastered on my face and absentmindedly nod with everything that is said to me.

“It has been a long time, my love.”

My eyes snap up to focus on the man whose arms I have just been passed into, and my heart stops inside of my chest.  “James?” I breathe out.  My eyes well up with tears just at the sight of his loving face, his sea blue eyes sparkling in the bright light of the ballroom.  “James, is it really you?”

His smile is almost blinding, and I realize that his own eyes are glassy as well.  “It is me, my princess.  Or should I say, my queen?”  Despite the rest of the people around us switching partners, he refuses to let me go, his hand tight on my hip and the other holding my hand firm.  “I saw your coronation this morning.  You looked radiant.  You still do, my dearest…”

I barely notice the world around me as I watch his tongue flick out between his teeth to wet his chapped lips.  “You were there?”

“Of course I was,” he chuckles, his large hand squeezing my hip.  “Do you really believe that I could ever even risk missing your coronation, sweetheart?”  Feeling the crowd’s stares, he leans in a little.  “Meet me in the garden in a few moments.  By the gazebo.”

Twirling in time with the music, my heart sinks as I am passed to the next partner and the next.  My hands are trembling with the fear that he could disappear again.  Logically, I know that he won’t.  But after spending so many years away from him…

“Go,” Steven says after I finally break away at the end of the dance.  “He is waiting for you.”

I don’t need to be told twice.  As I make my way to the corridor to slip out to the gardens, I have to reassure several servants that I am alright, but just escaping for a fresh breath of air.

The gazebo he told me to meet him at is further back in the garden, out of view from any of the palace windows.  His dark figure stands at one of the railings, looking out at the ocean.  The necklace around my neck burns as I take a moment to look at him, really look at him.  His hair is longer than it was when he left, and stubble lines his face.

Did he shave just for me?

I like the thought of him preparing to see me, nervously checking his appearance in the mirror.  Perhaps he bought a new jacket and waistcoat in his excitement.

“James?”

He turns to look at me immediately, a smile brightening his face, and I feel as though I am a teenager again, fresh with the feelings of love and adoration.  “My dearest…”  He does not waste any time as he pulls me close, his lips slotting against mine and his hands roaming over my body.  “I have missed you…  I have dreamt of you each night.”

And I know that anyone could come out and see us at any moment.  And I know that the gossip would run rampant and the possible alliance with Prince Quentin’s kingdom could crumble.

But I do not care.

I have been craving his touch for years, praying to the gods he would come home and hold me just as he is doing now.

“I need you.  I need you, James,” I say as my hands tug at his jacket and push it off his shoulders, going for his waistcoat next.

Thankfully, he does not argue.  “You’ve dreamt of this as much as me,” he says in relief as he unties my corset enough to tug it down to reveal my chest to him.  James chuckles as he catches his letter as it falls.  “You kept this so close to your heart, my love.”  Seeing the letter only makes him more ravenous, his lips attaching to my neck as he works his breeches down.

Pain runs through me as he sits and pulls me on top of him, finally joining our bodies together, but I don’t take the time to care.  The glory of finally being with him is far greater than any pain I could ever feel.

We are so tangled that you cannot tell where one of us ends and the other begins as he moves me, taking his pleasure and granting me my own.

“You’re mine,” he growls, nipping at my neck.  “That sorry excuse for a prince thought he could touch you.  Thought he would ever be worthy enough for you.”

It suddenly occurs to me that his arrival and Prince Quentin’s disappearance were correlated, and I see a drop of blood on his white undershirt.

It tears a moan from my throat.

The knowledge that a man as powerful, as strong, as my knight would protect me in such a dangerous manner, so desperately, sends a jolt down my spine.  The fact that he is willing to go to the ends of the earth, to commit such a sin…

It is delicious.

The dagger he must have used glints in the low light of the moon as it rests on the stone floor, having fallen from his breeches when they’d been torn down.  The sharp edge is crusted with a dark red, almost brown substance.

“I am all yours.  I have always been yours, my knight,” I say as my fingers tangle in his hair and pull, our lips locking.  “I love you.  I love you so.  I cannot breathe without you.”

“I am never leaving you again.  Never.”  His teeth grab onto my lower lip as he picks up the pace, grinning as he glances down to watch my body.  “Fuck…  It’s even better than I dreamed of.  I love you so much, my queen.”

My release is fast and hard, knocking the breath out of my lungs as I cling to him, my nails scratching at his back and creating a rip in his shirt.  “JAMES!”

James is quick to follow, his hips jerking as he reaches his peak and spills inside of me.  “Perhaps you will become heavy with my child,” he whispers as he steals another kiss, tenderly fixing my dress before helping me stand and dressing himself.  “Perhaps we will have a little prince or princess on the way.”

“Well…”  A smile spreads over my face as I cup his cheeks, running my fingers over the dark stubble.  He would look so delectable with a beard.  “In case you have not been informed, I have been made queen…  And I decree that you are to be my king.”

A laugh bubbles in his chest as he pulls me close once more, dipping me low and kissing me something fierce.  “Your wish is my command, my dearest.”

[miyaniacs]

The One Night Stand pt.2

Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader / Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Part 1 ; Part 3

A/n: I AM SO OVERWHELME. Thank you for all the reblogs, i know around 10 aren’t that much but for me they really are especially in about just a day. I can’t express how thankful i am, your positive feedback is the reason why i already wrote the part 2. I do kinda plan to make a pt 3 too Haha. I‘m always open for any kind of feedback and my dm‘s / ask is also always open if any of you want to thirst or just talk haha.

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of alcohol and a blackout (nothing illegal happened!), public sex & fingering, Toji being the best dad ever (not). and typos, i was just too lazy to read through this mess lol probs going to correct it tomorrow.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader , Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Form: oneshot / short story

“Ohhh that’s why you moaned his name last night.” Tojo whispers in your ear.

Shocked you turn around and look at him, your mouth wide open.

“Careful, you don’t want the others to notice anything, do you?” He smirks. Quickly your trying to act normal again, but your mind is racing.

You did not do this.

No.

Never.

NEVER EVER.

You got drunk last night to get over the fact that Gojo was sleeping over at some random girls place.

You got drunk last night to get those thoughts out of your mind.

You got drunk last night to get over the fact that you are in love with your best friend.

And you hooked up with Toji last night to convince yourself that you don’t have any feeling for Gojo.

You simply couldn’t moan Gojos name.

That would mean that he was still present in yours thoughts.

While some other guy was fucking you.

This is bad.

This is sooo bad.

Especially since you knew that Gojo only sees you as a best friend... a best friend without the benefits.

Yeah yeah, sure how should you know if he only sees you in this way.

You two are always flirting...

But this is just an act.. a game.. you are both pretty flirty- it’s just natural.

Also ... we’re talking about Gojo,..., one of the biggest hoes you knew. If he was slightly interested in you, he’d already made a move on you.

“Hey Y/n, care to finally tell us what happened last night?” Nobara asks and you snap out of the conversation you were having with yourself in your mind.

“Oh yes pleaseeeeeee tell us all the details.” Gojo coos and earns a warning glare from you.

“Come one, y’all aren’t young enough to not piece one and one together and figure out what she was up to last night.” Toji laughs.

“We know that she has one ... or more than one.. Hickey on her neck.. BUT WHO?” Nobara reply’s  and looks at you with a smirk.

“You really think I remember his name?” You laugh, “ I woke up in his flat and then went straight out of it. All I know is, that it wasn’t worth the hickeys.” You joke.

“Oh so your hungover ass, still remembers how bad he was in bed?” Gojo teases and throws a quick glance at Toji, signaling him that he knows.

“Definitely... worst fuck I ever had, I truly doubt i came even once.” You sneer.

“Well... at least you learned your lesson now. Don’t get drunk and fuck a stranger.” Nanami sighs. “Kids, learn from her. Don’t make the same mistakes.” He looks over at the Yuji, Nobara and Megumi.

“Yes, I wouldn’t say that, for me it always went well... but that could also be because I’m just good ... at everything.” Gojo winks, “Y/n just sadly got a guy that ... didn’t knew who to ... please a women.” He says with an arrogant smirk.

“Oh really, was it that bad Y/n?” You feel a hand on your thigh, squeezing it.

“Uhm... I mean, I can’t really remember it..” you stutter, feeling Toji hand move up on your thigh.

“Well.. we should switch the topic now.” Nanami caught and shots us a glare, meanwhile Tojo whispers: ”You should be able to remember this morning right? Or do I need to show it to you again tonight.” His hand moves under the hem of your skirt. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying your best to not let any unwanted sound escape your lips. The only person that could see what’s happening under the table right now was Gojo, but it looks like he didn’t notice it.

You feel Toji’s long fingers brush over your panties, giving you some slow stokes before he decides to settling his fingers right over your clit, drawing random shapes and giving it some light pinches.

“Your fucking son sits across from us.” You hiss at him and grab his hand, trying to stop him.

“Then better be quiet.” He smirks and pinches your clit hard, truly unaffected by your hand... to be honest, you don’t really try to remove his hand... and he knows you’re enjoying this.

The muscles on your inner thighs tense and you bite your cheek even harder.

You’re close and he knows it, it’s not hard to know, judging by how wet your panties are.

You look around trying to see any glimpse of suspiciousness form one of the others on the table, but everyone is having a full hearted conversation, hell even Toji is joking around with Megumi right now. How is he able to act this way, while your sitting here struggling to make a some sort of decent conversation with Nobara.

“Ok girly look. I - I tell you, this one dress would be perfect for you.” You say and force a smile.

“But I already know that it will be sold out, when I’m able to go to the store.” She whines.

“Then... How about we  go tomorrow after practice? I’m sure Gojo doesn’t have a problem with that, right, G- GOJO.” His name left your lips waaay too loud. But what were you supposed to do, when Toji suddenly puts three of his fingers inside of you, curling them at just the right spot.

“Again... wrong name babygirl.” Toji whispers.

“I can hear you, you don’t have to scream.” Gojo says annoyed.

Gojo‘s POV

Do they really think I don’t notice. I‘m just trying to be nice to Megumi. That’s the only reason I don’t say anything... I just want to save him from the realization that Y/n, the women he adores, was fucking his dad. Or most likely he‘s fucking her right now.

The audacity.

And that she is letting him doing it???

I thought higher of her.

... wait what am I thinking.

Why should I shame her, for doing something I already did ... but why is she doing it with him... and not with me.

I want to make her squirm just by my touch, teasing her in public... even before tonight I was sure that she‘d like that. I know her ... I know her better than this old fucker does.

My hand clenched around the glass of my drink.

Concentrate on the conversation Yuji and Nanami have.

Stop focusing on the soft sloppy sounds coming from beside you.

Stop focusing on the way her legs shake... how the fabric of her skirt lifts up and down... how her hand grabs my arm... wait what?

Why is she grabbing my arm?

Your POV

You feel your climax Coming  closer and closer.

Your eyes roll to the back, your eyelids flutter, and somehow your hand finds its way to Gojos arm.

You dig your nails in his soft skin, biting your lips, trying your best to stay quiet.

Your breath stuck in your throat and your mouth opens in a silent scream, your nails digging harder in Gojos skin, surly drawing blood. He should have really had his,..., don’t touch me shield up.

Trying to catch your breath you let go of Gojos arm, his hand immediately moving over yours, while his tumb stocks the back of your hand.

Meanwhile Toji has a smug smile on his face as he removes his fingers and moves them towards his lips, licking them clean, while glancing over at you.

“Uhm.. Y/n... are you okay?” Megumi asks confused, “You look... strange.” He raises an eyebrow.

Before you can answer, Gojo already opens his mouth. “Her hangover kicks in... I think it’s better if she leaves now.”

You look at him, with a thankful smile playing on your lips.

“ I was about to leave anyways, I can take you home, not sure if you arrive home save.” Toji gets up and pulls you up with him an arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up.

“No need to. I can take care of MY best friend.” Gojo says sternly and pulls you out of Tojis grip, now holding you close to him.

Toji raises one of his eyebrows and smirks.

“What’s wrong Gojo, you don’t trust me with her?”

“Yes.” He answers coldly.

“How’s that.  Don’t think I can control myself?” He laughs.

“Think? I know you can not.”

“Please, she’s a grown women, why would it be a problem if anything happens between me and her?” He smirks. You look confused between him and Gojo, not knowing what the fuck happens.

“Because your my DAD and she is my friend/ teacher.” Megumi sighs, clearly embarrassed.

“Because I don’t want her to” Gojo huffs and you quickly wiggle out of his grip.

“YOU DONT WANT ME TO?” You cross your arms and look at him.

“Yes. You don’t have to walk around fucking with random man, way too many years older than you.”

“Oh you are one to talk. How many this week mhm? Three?” You hiss.

“Please that’s different.” He sighs and scratches his neck, “ and no, only two, i actually spent two nights with the last one.” He smiles.

“OHHHH Two nights. And you forbid me to spent two nights with the same guy?”  

To underline your words, Toji wraps an arm around your waist and rests his head on top of yours.

“What’s wrong Gojo? Jealous?” He chuckles deeply, “Come, let me get you home and take care of you babygirl.” Lifting his head, he guides you away from the table and out of the bar.

Throwing one last glance over your shoulder you see a shocked Megumi, mouth hanging wide open, Yuji and Nobara looking confused from you back to Megumi. Nanami has his head in his hands. And Gojo mouths you a: “Please don’t leave.”

His sunglasses in his hand, showing a mixture of emotions in his eyes.

Your heart tightens when you look into his eyes.

“Don’t look at him. I promise he’ll be confessing to you in a matter of time.” Toji whispers and pulls you outside.

“You- You planned this?!” You ask him shocked.

“Please his feelings for you are pretty obvious. Especially how jealous he acted, i thought he’d screamed that he loves you right there at the bar.” He throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer. “Let daddy help you, yes?”

“Please don’t call yourself Daddy.” You groan.

“But I thought you liked that name for me?”

“I really need to stop getting drunk.” You whine, earning a loud laugh from him.

“But.. are you sure... about Gojo... I really do-“

“Yes. Yes he has feelings for you, which aren’t just the ones friends have.” He rolls his eyes annoyed.

“But before he gets to you, lets have some fun yeah?”

“Thank you.” You say and grab the hand, hanging over your shoulder, kissing it.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing this to get on his neves, not for you to be happy. I wouldn’t mind fucking you for some more days.” He smirks, lucky for him, the night hides the soft blush on his cheeks.

With his arm wrapped around you, you guide him to your apartment.

“Hey, but never finger fuck me again when your son is on the same table.” You huff.

“Why not, you basically told him that you and I are fucking.” He laughs.

“Fuck.”

Taglist: @laceymorganwrites @ereeeeehhh @gojocumslut @channieboiiii @wingedcreatorgoopwagon ( I tagged some of uou who reblogged it, I hope this was okay )

[baya-ni]

The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their “born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

~

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy​ finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

[glassartpeasants]

Like Father, Like Son

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, mentions of needles

A/N: This is a post based on a head cannon made by @yandereacademia which you can see here. I promise I will continue the DDLC AU but I needed to get this angst outta my system because I’ve been really stressed lately lol. Also the original storyline is kinda bumped up to fit the story

~~~

The only reason you were with the sociopath called Overhaul is because of a stupid mistake you made about 5 months ago. If you could go back in time you would’ve never drank that much until you were blackout drunk. You had somehow managed to sleep with the germophobic man after you both crossed paths when you both were blackout drunk. Which leaded where you are now. In the Shie Hassakai base, pregnant with his child. 

Once you showed him the test he demanded- no, MADE you quit your old job ad live in the base with him. Not in his room of course.Who knows what germs you could be carrying! You don’t get special treatment even if you are the mother of his child. And If we’re being honest, he doesn’t really see it as his child. More like an heir. How else would the Shie Hassakai live on? 

He doesn’t even see you that often. He sends either Chrono or Mimic to look after you. Sometimes Setsuno. You liked Setsuno since he actually treated you like a human rather than a burden. Chrono was a bit better than mimic. Mimic was just a plain ass. 

Your entire pregnancy was all about check ups. Healthy food, did I mention checkups? It was almost every Tuesday and Friday that he made you come into a little doctors room and inspect you and give you ultrasounds. You felt more like an incubator rather than a mother, but you digress. Once you got the news that the child was a boy you bet your ass Overhaul was way more worried about you than he originally was.

You wanted to run really. You saw what horrible things Overhaul had done. You didn’t want your child to end up like Eri or to turn into a shit human being like Overhaul. You wanted your child to grow up compassionate and kind, not a stone cold murderer with no remorse for human life.

Maybe once your child is born you can teach him those things in secret...

~~~

2 years after the child is born

You were right, Overhaul wanted nothing to do with the baby until it was old enough to be taught the ways of the yakuza. He wasn’t even impressed when the baby started talking and walking! You wanted to yell, scream, argue, and just hurt the man in general. A child needs support, not a unimpressed look everytime they do an accomplishment. 

You always supported your son. Showing him how proud you were whenever he handed you a drawing of him and you. Overhaul barely even saw the kid which affected him to the point where the kid didn’t even draw him in pictures.

You were happy that your baby didn’t see/look up to Overhaul as a fatherly figure. Man didn’t deserve to be called one or be one. You were worried if Overhaul would use your son as a experiment like he was using Eri.  

Speaking of Eri, you finally convinced Overhaul to let you see her and comfort her after he used her for the bullets. She was such a sweetie and especially loved how you would sing her to sleep whenever she has a bad day. You didn’t get to see her a lot, but you did what you could when you did. If only you could make Overhaul see what he was doing to everyone around him...

~~~

Your son just turned 8

Everyday your son looked more and more liked his father. Not to mention he inherited Overhaul’s quirk It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it weren’t for the fact that he started looking up to his father. Whenever your so was getting put to bed by you, he would always tell you about how much he wanted to be the next leader. He would tell you how he watched Overhaul to paperwork, sat next to him in meetings and such. The finally straw for you was when he told you that Overhaul let him use his quirk on a living breathing human being. To say you were furious was an understatement. All you saw was red. 

You smiled at the boy before pressing a kiss to his head and walking out his door while whispering goodnight before your started your expedition to give Overhaul a piece of your mind. You’ve stayed quiet for to long. You couldn’t just let him expose your child to such violence at such a young age! All you saw was red as you walked to his office door. Giving it a harsh knock you were allowed entry.

Upon entering you notice that you are the only one there with him. Just the two of you. You were afraid yes, but your anger out did it.

“Did you seriously let our son use his quirk on someone at such a young age?! He’s only 8! He doesn’t need to be exposed so early!” You yelled at him with your hands on your hips. You knew if you pointed at him you could say goodbye to that finger.

“He’s going to be the next leader. It’s only natural to start him off early. And I don’t remember giving you a say in the matter.” His voice cold and stoic but a hint of annoyance caught your ears.

“8 is way to early! Please Overhaul, Just give me 2-3 more years without him experiencing what you do.” You begged him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You only wanted what was best for your son. Your heart stopped when you heard Overhaul get up from his desk and his footsteps come near your now slightly shaking form.

“Bold of you to assume I would let him miss out on very needed skills to become the next leader. We both know that if it weren’t for him, you would have been dead the second i found out I slept with you. That boy is the only thing that kept you alive. So, from now on, I expect you to never come to my face. Talking about him needing to be kind and compassionate, is not the way of the yakuza. One more incident like this, than I’ll make him kill you myself.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the man in front of you. You can feel your blood run cold in your veins as it circulates through your body. Tears streaked down your face as you felt so defeated. Your entire body felt like you’ve been crushed by a car. 

You turned around and walked out the door and into your room. Locking the door your jumped onto your bed, grabbing the pillow before screaming into it. Your tears stained the pillow case as your body shook. You felt so hopeless and so helpless. Where was a hero when you truly needed one?

~~~

The next day

You were just finished changing before your son barged into your room. You were about to say good morning to him before he started screaming at you. Shocked you told him to calm down, but in the corner of your eye you saw the purple feathers that you have learned to fear walk by.

“What are you saying? Please calm down!” You say as you try to soothe your screaming child.

“How dare you try and take me away from dad! Dad told me everything!” Your son flailed his arms up and down while stomping on the ground. His screams soon turned incoherent.

“Baby! I would never-”

“Liar! Dad told me that you wanted to leave him! He said that you thought he didn’t deserve a son!” You didn’t say that what was he on?! You only wanted to protect him! You loved your son to the point you would die for him! What had Overhaul said to him!

“Please sweetie calm down-”

“No! I never want to talk to you again!” Your son ran out the door before slamming it shut. Your heart felt shattered as you heard Overhauls voice on the other side, ’calming’ your distressed son. You felt your world crumbling around you as your son was the only thing that kept you happiness in these dark times. Him and Eri. Oh Eri, if he grows up that means...

You felt vomit rise in your throat at the thought of your own son hurting such a sweet, innocent, little girl. You fall to your knees as tears spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t just run away from the Shie Hassakai ever. The base is fully guarded, and has high max security cameras. Not to mention the probability of them finding you and your son right away. If you even tried, you would probably get you and your son hurt. Maybe even little Eri. 

Your whole body felt numb. You just wished it was a horrible nightmare.

~~~

5 months later

As the weeks pass by, you felt your hurt break more and more everyday. Your son had kept his word when he said he ever wanted to talk to you again. You haven’t heard your baby's voice since that day. Hell, now you barely even see him! You see Eri more than your actual son now. ANd seeing Eri was not that often.

You felt hopeless. You wanted nothing more to do than crawl in a hole and die. Every night was spent crying over your son and how your life and gone so down hill so quickly. You didn’t even feel like moving. You just sat in the corner of the room since it felt like the only warm spot in the entire room. This little corner felt like some sort of sanctuary in this horrible place you call home. 

~~~

Your son just turned 13

Day whatever of the last time your son talked to you. And day whatever since you’ve left your room. You had no reason anymore. Overhaul officially banished you from ever seeing Eri again. Your world was crushed once more. At this point you felt like your whole existence was useless. 

Your days grew darker by the minute as your mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. You only ever moved when you needed to go to the bathroom or to drag the food plate that was brought to you by some employee of Overhaul. You barely ate anything anyways so you really saw no point in doing anything anymore. 

It only hurt more knowing that today was his birthday. You had asked the employee that brought you food if he had a party or just something to celebrate. You felt the last of your hope crushed once you heard his answer.

“The only thing he got was a official Shie Hassakai mask.”

~~~

Your son turned 15

You body was weak. You had refused to eat anything seeing no point in it anymore. You were always tired. Only getting up to go to the bathroom then sitting back in the corner that once gave you sanctuary. 

You heard footsteps on the outside of your door as the familiar voice of Overhaul was on the other side. Another voice rang in your ears and it hit you like a train once you realized who’s it was. It was your sons. His voice was so much deeper than the little boy’s you had once heard. It only deepened your sadness. You blinked but didn’t even turn your eyes once you heard the door opening. 

“We can test the serum out on her first. She’s too weak to fight back.”

“I didn’t know my mother had a quirk.” You couldn’t even make your eyes turn to look at them. You didn’t want to see the monster your son had become. Your heart couldn’t take anymore heartbreak, You felt like you would crumble into nothing.

You felt a light get shine into your eyes. You didn’t even blink during it. Once the light was gone you got a clear look at your once loving son. A mask covered his face just like his fathers did. He looked you in the eyes and you did the same. You wanted to cry but held it down. 

A latex hand grabbed your arm before you felt the needle being poked into it. You didn’t even flinch or wince. Almost as if you were a lifeless doll. A hand moved up and down your face as if to see if you were even alive or ‘there’.

“She isn’t responding to anything. She didn’t even wince. She’s breathing but she looks like she’s sick.” All that was one ear and out the other. Finally you felt the needle leave your arm as a sigh escaped Overhaul’s lips. 

“Well wait for about an hour or two and see the effects. For now, we have to do more tests on Eri. Lets go.” So...he was apart of the team experimenting on Eri. You felt like throwing up. How could the boy who you raised to be kind and compassionate turn into such a disgusting monster.

The sound of their footsteps leaving the room hit your ears. From the corner of your eye you say your son about to leave before you spoke up,

“You are not my son.” You saw him stop in his tracks as he turned to look at you. His eyes a bit wide but said nothing.

“I never want to hear you call me your mother ever again. Your a monster undeserving of one. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone like you. I never want ot see your face again.” In your monotone words they’re were spikes laced in venom. You couldn’t even look your own son in the eyes. As they we’re the same as his monster of a father. 

“Get out of my room and never come back.” You heard him close the door slowly as you let out a breath once you finally saw him gone. You can barely stand to see the monster your child had become. But, you didn’t see nor hear the way his breathing became ragged. Or how his eyes felt like spilling tears. Or how his body slowly shook at your words. 

‘It shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt me. Why does it hurt so bad? Please stop it. Her words shouldn’t affect me. Why does it hurt?’

[sketching-shark]

I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

-----

PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure. 

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work. 

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst. 

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels. 

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).   

----

Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity. 

----

 As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

[marichat-verse]

Mist Memories

Leo Valdez x reader for his birthday ahhhh (even though it's angsty) with a platonic/developing jason x reader cameo at the end (lmao im sorry i couldn't help myself 😭)

Based on this picture I found in pinterest + also [kinda] based on traitor by olivia rodrigo and omg i really recommend u guys listen to this edit because it reminds me so much of this fic that's been stuck in my head for MONTHS also kind of a run away with me prologue lol

Your POV

I nervously made my way across the forest until I reached a limestone cliff. I knocked on the iron door, not really expecting to get an answer.

My boyfriend has been shutting himself in Bunker 9 for the past few weeks. I stood there counting up to seven before knocking again. I knocked again two more times, until he answered in the middle of my last knock.

He removed his goggles and winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He'd grown thinner and paler, making the dark circles in his eyes more pronounced.

"Oh, Leo..." I reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, but he moved away.

"What are you doing here?" He said in a monotone voice.

I moved to walk inside the Bunker, brushing off his hesitation to let me in. "I'm your partner, remember? And I'm really concerned because you're shutting yourself out lately. You know everyone's starting to worry about you. Percy asked me to check on you because you missed pegasus riding with him. Oh, and I'm pretty sure Jason's coming back from Camp Jupiter soon. I was hoping you and Annabeth could be with Piper while Percy and I hung out with Jason because it's been a little awkward since their breakup. Plus Piper wanted to tell you something—"

"Please," he said forcefully causing me to stop and look at him. "Just... Get out."

Normally, he'd shut himself from the world for a few days to work on an important project or because he was feeling really sad and he needed space. But this was getting out of hand. He had never locked me out of his life when I offered to help him. He was never this mean when he asked for space. I was not having this attitude of his.

"Okay, Leo. I tried to play nice. What is so important that you blow off all your friends for nearly a month that you can't even tell your partner, or maybe say hi to your best friend who's coming back from the other side of the country?"

He didn't say anything. He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. I scanned he room for any signs.

It was messier than usual with all the crumpled paper scattered on the floor, especially on his desk. He could have been drawing up new plans. Something in my gut told me that something wasn't right. There were no new unfinished projects, indicating that he wasn't starting a new invention. Harley's helicopter lay on his bench in the same state it was weeks ago. Huh, not even his siblings could enter the Bunker.

I turned and Leo was already changing Festus' oil. I took this moment of distraction to pick up a few pieces of crumpled paper on the floor and on his desk. I had to process the words a bit longer—too long that Leo took notice. Damn dyslexia.

I heard footsteps speed up behind me, but it was too late. I read enough and got the gist of what he had been trying to do these past few weeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at me. Small embers started to erupt between his curls.

I laughed dryly. "So this is what you've been up to?"

His fists tightened, further crumpling the paper in his hands. His eyes flashed with anger, despair and confusion.

I sighed and focused my eyes on his desk, not daring to look at him any longer. Under some pieces of paper were old photographs of him and Piper from Wilderness School. Yup, those definitely were the mist memories she had with Jason. I read the latest draft he'd been writing:

Dear Piper,

Remember the mist memories from boarding school with Jason? They were real, but they were with me.

I miss you. I miss when it was just us. I miss the night on the roof.

Yours truly,

Leo Valdez

I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "How long?"

I heard him sigh. "Three weeks."

I balled my fists. Tears started to fall and smudge the ink. I wiped them away as fast as they came.

"How?"

"In a dream," his tone softened now. "Hera came to me in a dream and told me to check an old drawer in Bunker 9. I found the photos and the memories came rushing back."

"How long were you dating back then?"

"Two weeks."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Silence; then a deep breath.

"No."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset like—"

"I meant why would you throw away months of our relationship for a couple of weeks of your relationship with her? And without even bothering to tell me? Gods damn it, Leo. We've been together since you've first arrived at camp. And what about those promises you made when we were sailing to Greece? You've been keeping these feelings away from me and you've been lying to me, making me believe that there's still something between us and—"

"Oh, calm down," he said with an annoyed expression and tone, which only infuriated me more, "it's not like I did anything were her yet! I didn't kiss her or tell her how I truly felt for her! She just got out of a relationship with Jason around the same time I had that dream. I had to figure out how to talk to her about it. I've been alone in this Bunker for three. Fucking. Weeks. I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, and that makes everything better?" I countered. "Being in a relationship isn't about not cheating, Leo. It's about being honest and communicating with each other."

"Oh, like you've been communicating with me? After the war, you take go back to Manhattan for school, and you take a job. I haven't seen you much during the holidays because work has been keeping you in the city. And you won't tell me what you even do for a living!"

I took in a deep breath. "I told you I needed to have a life outside of camp! I needed to know first that I could handle myself in the mortal world as a normal human being. I needed this demigod part of my life to be separate as much as possible! I've been in two wars, Leo. I needed time to myself, too. And I was about to tell you guys in a few more days. But I guess now, I'm glad I've kept you out of that part of my life. At least I have an escape from all of this. And now, especially from you."

I took another deep breath and walked to the door, about to let myself out. I turned back again, both our tear-stained eyes meeting each other.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said softly, "I would've hated the idea of us breaking up. But if you really love her, if you really feel like you have this special connection to her and she makes you happy, then I won't get in your way. You could at least have had the decency to talk to me so we could have left on a good note."

He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly regretting his actions. I sighed and looked around the Bunker, possibly for the last time. Lots of memories were definitely created in this room; all just as grand and meaningful as the inventions they made here. But just like some of Hephaestus' contraptions, some of them were flawed and dumped in his scrapyard, no matter how much potential it could have had.

"Goodbye, Leo."

I sat on a rock on the beach that gave me a beautiful view of Long Island Sound. To my left, the sun started to set, casting an orange filter on everything. My heart broke, remembering how everything glowed orange in the Bunker. Leo always left the fires burning when he was working. The sunlight twinkling against the sea reminded me of how small bits of flame peaked through his hair earlier. I remembered how mad he was at me. Or maybe he was mostly mad at himself.

"Hey."

I jumped when someone sat—or rather, landed—beside me. I turned and smiled, seeing one of my good friends back at camp.

"Hey, you're back," I said weakly. "How long have you been here?"

He smiled at me, although he could maybe sense that something was wrong. "Half an hour, maybe? I saw Annabeth making plans to expand camp to have a city. She made me do an aerial inspection and I told her I'll get back to her tonight. That's when I saw you."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not really knowing what to say. It was silent for a few minutes before I spoke up again, knowing he was just waiting for me to open up.

"I broke up with Leo."

His head quickly turned to me. I guess he wasn't expecting it to be that bad. "What?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed dryly. "Turns out the mist memories Piper had in Wilderness School with you? They were real. But not with you."

His eyes widened. "Oh... With Leo."

"He locked himself in the Bunker for weeks trying to write a letter. It was heartbreaking. Like, truly heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he missed them. Then he said how much he missed that night with her under the stars and... It hurt. Like hell."

"Oh," he said. "I guess Piper didn't tell me everything then."

"She knew all along?"

He shook his head. "Maybe not everything, but she told me she's been confused about her feelings lately and she'd been having visions or dreams of possible old memories that were messing with her head."

"I'm sorry about you and Piper," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand her. It did hurt, though. But I think I can get over it some day. We're still awkward around each other, but at least we left on a good note."

I scoffed. "Leo couldn't even give me a good ending to our relationship."

"Hey," he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great person, y/n. You've done so much, especially for him. It's his loss that he was stupid enough to let go of you."

"I know that."

"Do you really?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm a great person and I know that. But that doesn't mean what he did doesn't hurt me."

"I know," he said. "You'll find someone who'll treat you like the queen that you are. You're a great person, and I'm not just saying this to cheer you up. I truly think you're amazing."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Jason. And you'll find someone great, too. Maybe not as great as me but, then again, who is?"

We both let out a laugh. The conch sounded in the distance, signaling dinner. I moved to stand up before hearing Jason speak up again.

"Hey, do you maybe want to just grab a couple of plates and eat out here?"

I smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good. I don't really want everyone else hounding me about the breakup right now."

I don't know how long it was going to take me to get over Leo. We really did gave something special. It was cruel how the universe gave me something so good, to make me have hope that something was finally going right, then have it yanked away from my arms just as suddenly as it came.

He never cheated on me, but that didn't mean he didn't betray every promise we made to each other. I should have known it was too good to be true. Life has always played cruel jokes on me.

Then again, who's to say that things won't turn out for the better, right?

•••

Tagging: @drvrslcense @bubblybubbubs @dreamerball @quteez @aesthetxcimagines @chasingpj @beingleft @wadewilsonsgreatestfriend

[joshslater]

Twitching

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To my surprise people keep joining the stream. Usually it was only my friends and occasionally someone random that watched me play. Space strategy games are not the most audience-friendly. They require you to know a lot about the game mechanics, and they take a long while to play through a full campaign. But all my mates know the game, and are just here to socialize and sometimes provide a tip.

This evening is different though. It had started with some "Lucy333" joining what must have been almost an hour ago. More than 30 minutes for sure. But over the past 10 minutes I've gotten 12 more viewers I think. Suddenly there is a coin sound effect and the chat stream lights up with a donation. $2 from Lucy333 and the text "Hey, spaceboy! Take your shirt off!"

I can instantly feel myself blushing. I'm flattered for a few milliseconds. I'm aware of the streams with girls showing lots of skin to get donations. I've never watched any of them. I'm not even aware of any with boys in them, but I know they exist. "Thanks for the donation, Lucy. This isn't that kind of stream though, clearly." I'm just playing for my mates when we don't feel like meeting up or doing something else. And I know I'm not a looker, though not shockingly ugly like Pete. Honestly, if there wasn't a pandemic going on we would probably do exactly the same thing anyway, playing space strategy and talk Marvel.

There is a flurry of responses from the newcomers in the chat. "Do it! Do it!" says one Donnatrix. "It could be that kind of stream," says fluffy2000. Soon my mates start cheering on as well. It basically turns into a dare. I'm not proud of my body, but I'm not ashamed of it either. It just is. Fuck it. I don't know what I'm going to be teased for more, if I take my shirt off, or if I don't. I reckon if I do what they ask for they have less ground to stand on. I set the game speed to low, say "Ok then", take off my headset, and pull off my T-shirt.

I'm met with a torrent of cheers in the chat. "Now it is that kind of stream," says fluffy. Donnatrix drops $5 and the comment "YAAAASSS". It feels weird. I can't decide if this is a group of sorority girls that randomly and sarcastically sexualize nerds, or if they are genuinely supportive.

"Thank y'all. Now back to trade route 14 to Zephyr-C". My emissary mission hasn't moved far at this speed. I'm about to increase the in-game speed when I get another $2 donation from Lucy. "Spaceboy, keep the game in slow mode and jump over to Heavenly Bodies."

I have no idea what she is talking about, if she even is a she. Her message is instantly met with a wave of support from the other newcomers. At this game speed it would take hours before I need to take any action, and I'm already up a Whopper meal without having done anything, so I reckon I can play whatever they want me to play for a while. Who knew I was that easily bought? "I don't know what that is," I say into my headset.

A few seconds later Lucy sends me a private message with a TinyURL. "This better not mess with my game rig. If it's porn I'll switch back to the game." I say. "It could be that kind of stream too." fluffy offers in the chat. "He could use some porn tbh" my friend Mike responds. I click the link.

The browser loads something that looks like a web game. It's a character creation screen with a faceless, very neutral model on the screen. Looks like those posable figures you use when learning to draw. There are no controls, except a set of buttons that offers you to upload settings, import from Facebook, and similar. I click the Facebook one, click a few approvals, and a progress bar that only lasts a few seconds appears. When it is gone there is a 3D model of me on the screen. "Wow! This looks just like me." Whatever AI they have combing through my online photos managed to get almost everything right. I'm wearing some sort of speedos, but I don't own any, so that part was a miss, but the model looks spot on. "Whatever else they have in the game, I don't think they are going to top this."

A long list of sliders and customizations appear on the screen. It looks like an incredibly detailed character creation screen. I try moving the height controller and is met with a message box saying I'm out of credits, and that I need $10,000 to change my height to whatever I moved it to. Clearly not real money. "I can't change anything". Lucy responded I need to share it. I exit fullscreen on the game and move the browser over to my other screen so everyone on the stream can see. "No, you need to click the share button in the UI and post the link in the chat", Donnatrix writes.

A big gift-wrapped box appears in the corner of the game window. I click it and it presents the text "Hair color and style" with bold letters and below that a text message from Lucy "I think this will be cute on you." I click accept and the 3D model is updated with new hair. It's dark blonde or whatever the oxymoronic name is for it, instead of my usual rat brown hair. It's short on the sides and on top is a big swooping quiff. It looks utterly silly. "Thanks, nice one," I tell the stream. I see a lot of cheers coming in the chat, but I'm a bit perplexed about the "OMYFUCKING GDO!" from Mike. It's just silly hair.

Immediately a new gift box appears on the screen, and soon after a (2) is added on top of it, possibly indicating two gifts waiting. I find it a little bit cute that these girls are essentially playing with paper dolls, but digitally and modeled after someone real. I open the next gift, "Facial Features" from Julia_Awesome. I click accept again, and the doll on the screen is updated. Weirdly it felt like a flash of heat hit me, like those flame effects on concerts. The doll still looks like me, but pretty fictionalized. The face is much sharper, not just less fat, but probably also some bone structure changes as well. It's equally interesting and disheartening, like one of those really good mobile phone filter apps that makes you into a photo model. Makes you understand how unobtainable the Men's Health cover look really is. "Thank you, Julia, but I'm not sure about this look."

I'm ignoring the chat, though I see it is going bananas. I'll have to read that later when the stream is over. I open the next box. Another two has already arrived. This gift is from Donnatrix and is "Core Body", whatever that means. It feels like a gut punch. Perhaps not that, because it doesn't hurt, but it knocks the air out of me. Almost made me fall out of the chair. I'm confused about what is actually happening though because things don't make sense. My body looks deformed. It takes a moment before my brain stops associating what I see with HR Geiger's nightmarish paintings and start to understand what I really see. My body is suddenly a lot leaner and a hell of a lot more stacked than before. Proper abs muscles like a pan of Hawaii rolls.

I look up at the main screen for the first time in what feels like an eternity. The model on the screen looks ripped as well. How stupid can one person be? I turn to the side monitor and look at the window from the webcam. It's me, all new muscles, strong jaw, and a silly quiff on top.

"Hold up! Hold up! Hold up! This is insane! This isn't possible."

"lol, of course not" I see moving by in the chat. I go back to the program. Four more gifts waiting. I look at the model on the screen. I look at the webcam view. "Arms" says the next gift with the text "Promise to flex for me." Well, fuck Zephyr-C and trade route 14.