#But he's just looking because he's reminded of himself! Actually that probably wouldn't be taken well either lol

[sysig]

Something old and borrowed (Patreon)

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[milksuu]

Don't Worry. I'll Support You. | PT. 01

❥ prompt: Your HEARTSTEEL boyfriend has to undergo minor surgery, and they chose you to be their caretaker for the day. Let's see how they are before and after anesthesia. ❥ content/warnings: fluffy fluff, drugged behavior (all medically safe), mention of needles, mild profanity, minor angst ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel! (aphelios, ezreal, kayn) x girlfriend!reader

an: i don't know why this was tumbling around in my head. wow, this post got longer and longer the more i wrote. i swear I'll write for the other babes too.

APHELIOS

Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the first time Aphelios had to undergo surgery. Happened when they had to remove the nodule from his vocal cords. And he doesn't remember a single thing from that day. Alune took care of him at the time, but she never mentioned anything beyond how he slept most of the day (probably to spare him from embarrassment).

He appreciated you taking a day off work to take care of him and be his interpreter. He was fine with all his consents and paperwork. But when it came to more detailed questions concerning his medical history, he would have you translate his sign language to the medical staff. Thanks to you, the process went smoothly.

IV's were never fun to have. Especially when it had to be in the hand. Aphelios couldn't lie and say he wasn't nervous about it, despite his aloofness. But all he had to do was shift his eyes away for a moment, and look at your cute, bubbly face. He could tell you were rambling on trying to distract him, and he guessed it worked. By the time he looked down again, the IV was in. He denied the golden star sticker usually meant for the pediatric patients, but you took it for him as a momento.

When it was time for him to go into the OR, the medical team gave you two a moment. You slipped a hand into his and gave him two love squeezes. He smiled softly and gave three love squeezes back. A quick peck to his lips and you left to sit in the waiting room.

When he was brought to recovery and awake, you were taken to his bedside. When you stepped through the curtain, you saw him resting as if he were asleep at home. Slowly, he opened his eyes, glazed over with mild recognition. Although he felt lethargic, he signed sloppily with his hands.

Is this heaven?

You bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling too much. You shook your head and reminded him where he was.

Oh. Really? Because you look like an angel to me. And if they want you back up there. Forget it. I'm keeping you.

You covered your mouth to keep from giggling too loud. You weren't sure if he was being serious or actually trying to flirt with you. It wasn't common at all for him to be so corny, but you blamed the anesthesia for that. When the nurse came to the bedside, she went over discharge instructions while you held his hand. He kept giving you light squeezes and rubbing his thumb gently against your fingers. Just to make sure you wouldn't fly away. Of course, anytime you had to let go and sign a paper, he sighed heavily (almost a whine if he wasn't careful), until your hand floated right back for him to take. Then he was sighing with relief again.

While at home, it was just the same. Aphelios didn't want you to leave his side for even a moment. If he had his way, you'd be sleeping next to him, still holding onto his hand. You had to remind him many times that you had to take care of him, so no cuddles or naps just yet. You also had to remind him he needed to eat and take fluids after fasting for so long. If there was thing you knew, he was a picky eater. Aphelios seriously thought ketchup packets counted as a full meal and satisfied his daily fiber intake. Luckily, you were able to spoon feed him some soup with a couple of crackers.

After you had him take his first dose of medication, you could finally indulge him. You settled next to him in bed, and he took no time to wrap himself around you, nuzzling your chest. A small, sleepy smile formed against his lips. Maybe you weren't a real angel. But you couldn't convince him you weren't his heaven on Earth.

EZREAL

Oh, boy. This was the first time Ezreal had to have any kind of surgery. Even though it was supposedly minor, that didn't stop the nerves itching underneath his skin. Is it normal to be this nervous? He wasn't sure, but he tried his best to hide his chattering teeth behind a forced smile. He really didn't want you worrying about him more than you had too. You were already doing him a big favor by taking care of him. He just hoped he wouldn't be a wreck before and after.

Apparently, signing consent forms and answering medical questions became a challenge. His hand trembled so much, his usual confident signature looked like a preschooler forged it. And when it came to answering medical questions, he found himself stuttering, feeling like someone stuck cotton balls inside his mouth.

When it was time for the IV, his whole body was ready to collapse in on itself. Was it always so hot in here? Sweat dampened the top of his skin. W-What's the big deal anyway? Not like he was afraid of some tiny, sharp...needle....OK, the room was spinning now. Great—awesome. Man, he felt so lame.

Seeing the color drain from his complexion, his head drop back, and his eyelids fluttering close, you politely asked the nurse to give him a moment with you. She laid him down in the stretcher and brought you a wet cloth. Wiping at his damp face and neck, you rested a comforting hand against his heaving chest. "It's okay to be afraid, Ez. It's not easy to have surgery. You're brave for even being here." He shook his head weakly, clenching his eyes tight. "B-brave. Yeah right, babe. I mean, look at me. I'm practically comatose and the nurse barely even wrapped the tourniquet around my arm."

"Brave doesn't mean not being afraid of anything. It's doing something even knowing it's scary." Another wipe of his cheek and you planted a reassuring kiss. "There's no one braver in my eyes right now." Ezreal swallowed the ball of anxiety nested in his throat. A couple of more inhales and he gathered his remaining courage for the next step that had to be done.

You held his hand the entire time the nurse worked to get his IV started. You told him to close his eyes and take big breaths, and it would be over before he even knew it. He did as instructed, and just like you said, it was done. He admitted to you that it felt a bit itchy, but that he could deal with. Oh, but was it so worth it when the nurse offered him that golden star sticker. He slapped it on the chest of his gown like a badge of honor.

When the medical team arrived to take him in the stretcher, he gave you that million dollar smile and peace sign. Granted, you whispered to the anesthesiologist to give him some relaxing medication before he went in. The anesthesia provider was way ahead of you. When he started giggling, waving, and blowing kisses like he was out the sunroof of a limo driving down the boulevard—oh yeah. You knew he was feeling it.

When it was all over and they called you back to recovery, the nurse informed you he couldn't stop talking the moment he opened his eyes. And all that he was talking about was you. "Babe! Babe! I did it—I can't even believe it's over. I don't even remember them putting me to sleep. Crazy, right? Like, did I count down from ten? Did I make it to zero? I bet I made it to zero." He practically wiggled himself over the safety rails on the stretcher. You sweetly instructed him to keep still so that the nurses could get a decent blood pressure on him. "Okay. Okay. I'll be good. Promise." He forced himself to lay back, but that didn't last long. While the nurse was going over instructions, he was tugging on your shirt sleeve, calling your name, interrupting every moment wanting your attention. Apparently, he had a lot to say to you in the span of thirty-minutes you were separated.

When you arrived back home, by some miracle you were able to have him settled on the couch once you put on his favorite K-Drama. While sitting next to him (and making sure he didn't get up) he rested his cheek against the top of your head. "Thanks for everything, babe. Honestly, you make me feel like the bravest guy. Like Indiana Jones....or Captain Kirk...maybe even that...one actor from National Treasure...." before you could say anything back, you felt his body relax further into you. His light breaths signaling he dozed off seamlessly. With a warm smile, you pulled the blanket over the two of you, and snuggled closer before you joined him for a nap.

KAYN

GOD DAMN IT'S EARLY! Kayn wanted to shout when you woke him up for his 6AM arrival time. Instead, he grumbled, kicked on his crocks, and went in his pajamas. He was too tired to really argue and complain. He just wanted to get this done and over with so he could move on with his life.

Kayn didn't diddle-daddle with his forms and medical questions. He wanted to put on his gown, toss himself into the stretcher, and possibly get a few more winks before his surgical time. You sighed—this was going to be the longest hour before surgery.

Although still in a foul mood, Kayn eased a bit when you worked up a distracting conversation with him. And when the nurse came in to do his IV, Kayn didn't bother blinking. He probably stuck himself countless of times with other—probably sharper—and deadlier objects. Actually, he took it one step further. When the IV was inserted, just to mess with you (and the nurse), he made a loud, and seductive moan. You pinched his arm for startling the nurse. Poor thing didn't even know how to react to that nonsense. "Ow. Ow. Nurse—nurse, she's hurting me." He said, cowering away from you. "You deserve that for almost giving them a heart attack. What if they missed and had to stick you twice?" Kayn smirked, rubbing at his nipple line. "More of a good time for me, then." You rolled your eyes, begging for him to behave for the next half-hour.

When the surgeon came to the bedside, he discussed the procedure at length and a few expectations afterwards. When he finished, he asked if either of you had any questions. Kayn raised his hand like the serious kid in math class. "Yeah. Question, Dr. Shen. When can I have sex again?" You almost spat out the complimentary coffee the front staff so kindly gave you. You couldn't believe he had just asked that question so casually at...let's see.... 06:50 in the morning!

You apologized on his behalf, but Dr. Shen merely dismissed it. "That's quite alright. It's a fair question. And one I receive plenty of times from my male patients. Even ones well into their eighties, and surprisingly, nineties." Kayn nodded with a grin and you rubbed your warming forehead. Of course. What else would they bother to ask? The surgeon went on to say; "As far as any kind of exertional activities, that will all be discussed and cleared at your follow-up appointment in two weeks."

TWO WEEKS!? Kayn almost fainted right then in there. He looked at you with such concern, as if someone told him a Pentakill concert sold out before he could even buy a ticket. He reached over and grabbed your hand, holding tight. "Listen, kitten. I don't think I want this surgery anymore. Can we go home now?" You shook your head disapprovingly. After hearing such news, and you not bailing him out, Kayn sulked as if he was getting surgery to forever castrate him.

When it was time to take him, he begrudgingly let you kiss his cheek. Otherwise, he didn't reciprocate your affection. He tossed his chin away and said. "Whatever. Let's just get this crap over with." Once again, he had you shaking your head, and you apologizing to everyone in the room.

When the nurse came to bring you back into recovery, you noticed he was sleeping on his side, back turned to you. You wondered if he was still upset by the whole ordeal. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, he tensed, but slowly turned over. "Kayn. Are you feeling alright? If you're in pain, I'll tell the nurse—" Before you could finish, Kayn reached forward and grabbed you, pulling you into the tightest hug. You felt him bury his face into your neck and shoulder, hands desperately clinging to you.

"Oh, thank you, thank you." You heard him choke up. You brought a hand to gently comb through his hair, asking him what was wrong. He shook his head. "I...I don't know. I thought— just before everything went black—what if I never saw you again. And the way I acted before they took me..." he squeezed tighter, burying his sulking face deeper. "I'm sorry. I love you, okay? Just, trust me on that. Please."

"It's okay. I love you too," you hummed and stroked his back, continuing to assure him. "You don't have to worry anymore. It's all over. You're still here. The doctor said you did so good, and there were no complications." Pausing, you planted a kiss to the top of his head. "How about we get you dressed so we can go home, hm?" He nodded against your shoulder, and you helped the nurse dress him for discharge.

When you brought him home, Kayn wanted to do nothing but turn off the lights, close the blinds, and lay next to you in quiet darkness. Breathe you in, feel your warmth, and listen to the softness of your pulse against his ear. Focus on the fact that he was alive and you were alive with him—nothing else.

[cryingisnecessaryfanfics]

Genshin characters and you putting lotion on their scars

Hiiii. So I have many many scars and this morning while I was putting lotion on I thought, huh wouldn't it be nice to have someone do this for me? To give such a mundane act of care... so romantic! 

Anyways, not everyone has scars like me but all our favorite genshin boys and girls are fighters and that means they have to have some sort of scar! 

Feel free to request more characters for a part two to this! I'll be doing a part two regardless, but if you have a great idea for a character I'll definitely incorporate it! 

Characters: Diluc, Tartaglia, Kazuha, and Beidou. 

part. 2

Diluc 

We all know that Diluc is commonly head cannoned to have a fuck ton of scars. Bro probably doesn't do shit with them either. You'd probably catch him with the incessant itch. Dear god, that is horrible, for you non-scar havers, the itch is nonstop, and when you scratch it's painful like a rash except all burny and dry. Please help him moisturize his scars. He's gotta be in so much pain. 

You've caught him with his hand under his shirt again, the rapid scratching looking frantic as he itches. 

"Diluc," you murmur a hand catching his arm and stilling his movements. "Did you put on your lotion this morning?" 

You watch him sigh, his scratching hand reluctantly making its way to yours instead. 

"No love, I didn't have time." 

"You can't not have time for your health Diluc!" You chastise him gently, though your tone holds some frustration. You're already moving to the bedroom, dragging him along and pushing him onto the bed. 

"Stay." You say with a pointed finger and you move to the connected bathroom, fetching the lotion out of the cabinet. 

Diluc has already taken his shirt off by the time you get back to the bedroom, resigned to his fate. You smile at him in approval and his gaze softens just a bit. 

"You have to be doing this every day," you remind him and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes. 

"I know." He retorts but it lacks the sarcasm and retains the hint of affection he tries to suppress. 

"Are you sure? Cause you can't seem to do it properly anyways." You mumble and he huffs the slightest laugh. You can't help your heart melt every time he does it, even if it's small. You can't help your smile either, as you gather lotion on your fingertips and start to spread it onto his skin. 

Diluc seems to enjoy your ministrations because he lets out a hum in contentment, eyes falling closed as you massage the lotion into his skin. 

You let your hands glide along his chest, spreading across his scars as you admire and recall each one. 

"Thank you, my love." 

Tartaglia

I personally head cannon Ajax to have self-harm scars but I won't mention anything about it here. I think he probably has really erratic and odd scars. The abyss probably had all kinds of horrors with different ways of causing harm. But since Ajax is the type to purposely get himself into a fight he'll most certainly lose, I also think he's the type to purposely let himself get injured for the thrill of it. He would wear his scars as a sort of armor, he acts cocky about them but is actually quite shameful. 

You catch his eyes lingering in the mirror just before you bathe together. He can't help but feel conflicted over the scars he's accumulated. On one hand, he feels proud that he could have survived such horrible atrocities. Gone through hell and come out the other side with battle scars and his life. On the other hand, he now has to live with permanent markings on his body, an equally permanent reminder of the past that haunts him. 

“Ajax?” You murmur, a hand finding its way to his bicep, absent-mindedly tracing the scars that reside there. “Are you alright?” 

Your voice snaps him out of his trance-like state and he once again puts on his cheerful facade. 

“Just admiring my amazing body!” He quips and winks at you in the mirror but you frown at his masked emotions. 

“Don't bullshit me, Ajax.” He all but flinches at your harsh reply. “I know you better than that, love.” 

His mask falls and the man you know returns, a frown adorning his boyish features. You follow his gaze to your hand on his arm and suddenly you know. He must see the realization on your face because he speaks up before you can say anything. 

“You know me better than anyone.” He sighs and his hand comes up to cover yours. “I just don't like them is all.” He doesn't need to state it outright, he knows you know what he means. 

“If it means anything, I like them.” Your words are hushed and he can feel your hand leave his body as you shift away from him. 

“Why’s that?” He asks as you busy yourself looking through the cabinets. 

“Reminds me that you're not perfect. That you have weaknesses just like anyone else. That you're more human than you like to believe.” You say this nonchalantly like it's not the most genuine thing anyone's ever said about him. He watches you emerge from the cabinet with a bottle of lotion and a smile. You let the words sink in as you gather lotion in your hand. 

“I like them because they’re a part of you. They tell the story of how you became strong and how you weren't always that way.” You can't help but hum fondly as his eyes follow your movements. How your gentle hands caress him in a way not even his mother has since he was fourteen. Your hands glide up his shoulder blades, curve around to reach his front, and touch every part he hates. 

“I love them because I love you. All of you.” 

Kazuha

His bandaged hand is scarred from when he grabbed his friend's vision. That shit’s gotta hurt so bad, burn scars are a pain in the ass to take care of too. Especially since they’re so sensitive to sunlight. It makes sense why he would keep his hand bandaged even after his wound has healed. Though it's gotta be so itchy under there. Please be careful when handling his hand, scars like that are painful for years after they’ve healed. (I feel like he would be hesitant to show you it, so the scenario is your first time seeing/taking care of it.)

“Please, can I help you?” You’ve asked him this more times than you can count, always pleading gently to see his scar and getting the same rejection every time. So you don't expect it when his red eyes go dark and he just barely nods.  

“Okay.” He says quietly and you can only blink in shock before gathering yourself and leading him to the bathroom. 

He sits on the edge of the tub and patiently waits for you to find the salve he puts on his hand. Your heart beats faster than you like at the sight of his eyes so far gone. Maybe he's disassociating? You don't bother asking as you settle down in front of him. 

Your gentle hands take his bandaged one, and you look up at him to make sure it's still okay. He nods again and you continue wordlessly, deft fingers unraveling white gauze with ease. It doesn't take long for his skin to be exposed and you take in the sight of his scar. 

It takes a lot to not wince or grimace, the burn has left more scar than skin. The tissue is still red and angry, the texture severely affected in odd pattern-like ways. But you manage to smile sadly at the sight, how much willpower must it take to willingly catch a burning object and hold onto it? To ignore every instinct and cling to something so painful. To say Kazuha is resolute and tenacious would be a massive understatement. 

“Tell me if it hurts.” You mumble, wholly engrossed in caring for him. Your hands gather the salve in your fingers and start to gently spread it across his palm. His arm tenses up but he says nothing. 

The process is short, simply letting the salve sit on top of his skin, not daring to massage it in. He seems grateful for this. It's not long before you're wrapping new gauze around his palm threading it between his fingers. 

“Thank you,” he whispers when you're done, slipping down to the floor with you and hugging your waist. He buries his head in your chest and you hold him there. 

“Anytime, love.” 

Beidou

The scar under her eye patch, I know a lot of people think she doesn't have one but for the sake of this, imagine she does. I think she's probably less forthcoming about the eyepatch because of the scar. Do you guys remember in her hangout how she was talking about her childhood and how she chased a dog to get its food and had to fight it? I feel like the dog probably scratched her eye and left her partially blind and scarred. And that part of the hangout is one of the only times we see Beidou feeling solemn, it’s gotta be a tough memory for her. 

She tells you the story the first time she lets you see it. For once, her demeanor is less than confident, no longer renowned captain of the crux, uncrowned queen of the sea, only Beidou. 

It's very obviously an old scar, not very big or intense. When you see it you focus more on her actual eye, her iris is a faded pinkish-red color, the pupil distorted and uneven. 

“I can still see a little bit on that side but it's all messed up and blurry, so I wear the eye patch.” She explains and you frown at the thought. 

“Did it hurt?” You ask, voice quiet and tentative. 

“I… don't really remember, to be honest.” Her eyes seem far away at the thought. “I just remember being so hungry. It was the only thing I could think about.” 

Your eyes study her expression, one you've never seen on her before. Its sorrow, longing, and pure pain all wrapped up in one. You let your finger trail the length of the scar on her eyelid. The lotion spreads with the motion, smearing white against her pale skin. The eyepatch has left a tan line that would've been comical if not for the sad story behind it. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you whisper, “and for letting me see it.” 

“Of course.” She says. “I trust you.”

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

What do you think would have happened if Izana hadn't died during the Tenjiku arc? Like he still got shot but survived instead of dying?

(OK just a warning before anyone starts reading this, this turned into basically a whole au and got a bit long)

Well this would heavily depend on two things, first how badly he injured he is and his recovery time and second is if everyone knows he's alive or if they think he's dead. But let's say he recovers a month after Kakucho (he did have extra wounds) and it's known he's alive. Once recovered I think he actually spends some time on his own instead of going straight to Kakucho. Izana just took some massive losses and basically had a lot of his ambitions turned upside down in that last fight, so I could see him having a bit of a depressive episode. Dealing with the grief of losing Emma, tenjiku his dream losing, his own physical injuries and possibly even guilt over having Kisaki in the gang and how he eventually shot Kakucho. So I think he has some time where he decides to retire and kinda just does nothing but survive.

And then South happens, after realising Kakucho got beat up and forced to join this random gang he's so mad. Kakucho is his! But it get's even worse when he learns the S62 have joined this random guy too (they did try to find Izana after they got out but he was too good at disappearing). He's also started hearing lots of rumours about Mikey too, how he has this new gang and he's changed. He's been conflicted about Mikey this whole time but until now he didn't realise how bad things had become for him. So he makes a clear plan to go get Kakucho back, knock some sense into his S62 and maybe talk to Mikey after. But that all changes when he's approached by brahman of all people.

Them having so many underground links (especially Takeomi's) allowed them to track Izana down and headhunt him for their gang. Of course Izana immediately says no though, he actually thinks their whole "save Mikey" plan is stupid. But they're persistent, basically popping up everywhere he is to try and recruit him, especially the leader. He ends up fighting Senju (he's actually curious about her skills and it's been awhile since he had a fight anyway) then eventually agrees to partner with them. He's not actually sure why he pattnered with them, maybe because he hadn't been around others in awhile or maybe because something about Senju reminded him of how Shinichiro used to describe Mikey, maybe because he has a fondness for little sisters or maybe he just wanted a fight. He didn't join though, he refuses to join a gang under anyone else. He also likely goes through some character development here. (Side note but because he probably wouldn't wear it but he'd look great in the uniform).

Time skip and the battle of three deities approaches, Izana's there and immediately targets South, changing the battle. Kakucho however, still goes straight to Mikey, he considers himself to be on Izana's side though. Kakucho gets thrown between the South and Izana fight. Now this really makes Izana mad and he charges at Mikey but get's taken out by Mikey who is fully consumed by the dark impulses, Mikey then kills South.

Izana wakes up in the hospital but he isn't sad this time, no instead he's furious. Mikey beat him that easily? How? (Tbf Izana was out of practice and Mikey had dark impulses) But it still makes him angry and he decides he wants a rematch. Kakucho, who didn't join kmg waits for him to recover then the two of them set off to do some training together. Until Takemichi finds Kakucho and asks him to join toman 2.0 (he wants Izana too but Kakucho is more approachable). Izana, who's been itching to fight Mikey again agrees to join. The fight goes kinda the same with the main difference being Hanma fights Kakucho, Takemichi fights to get to Mikey and ends up taking out a bunch of kmg and Izana does the same. For Izana especially though I think it would be cool if he ended up interfering in Senju's fight and was the one to take Sanzu out before the final blow he dealt Senju. Just because I love the idea of him going from being ok with his sisters death to saving someone else's sister/ maybe even saving Sanzu from making a mistake he made, seems like a good parallel. Anyway Sanzu get's knocked out but manages to regain consciousness and heads for the train. But this time Kakucho isn't with Takemichi when he has the vision, instead it's Izana who's with him since they're both trying to get to Mikey. Izana has a quick choice to make but decides to give up his revenge on Mikey to instead follow and help Takemichi save everyone, completing his character arc. He's the one to die saving everyone instead, this pushes Mikey even further over the edge and the dark impulses come out earlier then before but the fight still ends the same way.

[krysissy]

Something not only me but many other people have pointed out, is how Shadow throughout the whole new episode, was actually just tying to help/save Sonic in like every scene we see him in.

Sonic is preoccupied with his thoughts and didn't see the shard coming at him, and Shadow noticing this saves Sonic. And they even have fun playful banter as they go to the Grim.

"Thanks buddy!"

"Don't get used to it."

"Wouldn't dream of it!"

Shadow isn't annoyed. And I think that's really great development from his first appearance in the series!!

When fighting the bots, Shadow tells Sonic to go get the prism while he does the hard work of trying to defeat the chaos bots. He sees Sonic fall from the top of Nine's tower and he's immediately worried and tries to go save him from the fall but is not fast enough so Shadow goes to protect Sonic's body from the bots while Sonic regains consciousness.

Sonic doesn't catch on as quickly but Shadow immediately understands what Nine is implying that he doesn't have all the prism energy. And he immediately goes from shock to pure anger. He's angry of how Nine would go to the lengths of draining Sonic of his prism energy.

And immediately tries to take Sonic away front the Grim by throwing Sonic out of the way. And in the process, he has to go up against the bots all by himself and eventually-

He gets thrown into the canyon that could be god knows how deep. And who knows what might happen to Shadow. He might be found by the bots and taken to Nine, or he could be just left there to bleed and die. Probably Sonic will be the one to save Shadow.

But the fact is Shadow did all this to get Sonic AWAY FROM NINE.

And not only does he always keep a lookout for Sonic when they're facing Nine, he is also trying to look out for Sonic as they try to escape Ghost Hill.

He tugs Sonic away from the mountain that is one of the first things to collapse because he knows Sonic is still reeling from the events of what just happened.

Shadow tries to reach out to Sonic to perhaps comfort him?? He's not angry or annoyed, he just gave a reminder to Sonic that the Ghost Hill version of his friends weren't real. And later on when Sonic was lamenting about Ghost Hill and the shards are now all gone, Shadow offers him a compliment that lights up Sonic's whole mood.

And in many other examples I can't show because Tumblr only has a 10 photo bullshit, Shadow has showed that he puts Sonic's life in front of his. And that Shadow actually cares for Sonic and they aren't just 'enemies' who 'hate' each other.

.

Anyways, someone drug me.

[jeonqkooks]

jungkook #33 from the fluff list 💗 (even better if its like fboy badboy jungkook getting flustered and shy around oc hehe)

daft pretty boys | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

prompt: "i can't think around you."

rating: G

word count: 0.8k

genre/warnings: classmates to .. lovers?, college au, basketball captain!jk, he's neither a fuck boy nor a bad boy he's just a cute boy <3, fluff, swearing as per uzh, i plagiarized MYSELF bc the shit mentioned here was actually taken from my final paper for a film class two years ago lmaooooooo

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

If there's one thing that Jungkook absolutely despises, it's when people think jocks are dumb. It's a common misconception and it's downright hurtful sometimes; just because Jungkook is the basketball captain, doesn't mean that anybody has the right to assume he's got hay for brains.

However, if someone were to come up to him right now and say it to his face, he probably wouldn't disagree.

"So yeah, if they lose the memories of these relationships, I think they'd also be losing parts of themselves that make them whole, because an individual's identity is an accumulation of multiple smaller identities they have with every single intimate relationship that ultimately forms one collective identity, y'know?" you finish, and it's not until then that Jungkook comes back down to earth, realizing that he's just been staring at you this whole time. "Anyway, what do you think?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Same, uhm," Jungkook stammers. "I also thought about their collective relationsh- I mean, collective identity and multiple identities and-"

You purse your lips as you take in his whole demeanor, like a nervous child fumbling with his words. "Did you not watch the movie?"

He did watch the movie. In fact, Jungkook watched it three times over the weekend because that's how much he liked it. When he registered for this class - History of Popular Cinema - at the end of last semester, he was hoping that it'd be an easy elective so he could focus more on basketball and his core courses. And for the most part, this film class is easy. All he has to do is watch movies and hand in a few short essays every now and then. Piece of cake.

Then the final paper rolls around and the professor assigns everybody a partner to work with. In theory, it should still be a piece of cake, because there still isn't that much to do anyway.

So why is it so fucking hard all of a sudden?

Jungkook had never really noticed you before you became his designated collaborator for the month. Never saw you on campus, never saw you attending the games. Hell, he didn't even know your name until this final assignment.

"I watched it," he defends himself lamely.

"Okay. And?"

"It was good."

You frown, and all Jungkook can think about is how adorable that crease between your eyebrows is. How he just wants to reach across the table and smooth it over, or better yet, kiss it away.

He's fully aware of how stupid he must look, with his sweaty palms and his words falling over each other like goddamn Jenga pieces, in front of a girl that he's been obsessed with for weeks now. Jungkook doesn't normally do crushes, but the more time he spends with you to work on this lame ass paper, the more he finds his mind drifting to you even when you're not in his vicinity.

He thinks you're so pretty when you absentmindedly bite your lip whenever you're concentrating. He thinks you always smell like jasmine, and he's delighted by how your scent lingers on his own clothes after every time you meet, like he's carrying home a reminder of you. He thinks you're ten leagues smarter than him when you text him whole paragraphs detailing how postmodern filmmakers flirt with the concept of identity fragmentation through different types of cinematic manifestation as a reflection of the realistic postmodern person, because what the fuck does that even mean?

"You're not doing a very good job at convincing me you watched the movie," you say.

Jungkook groans internally - and a little externally too - as he runs a hand down his face. "I watched it, I promise," he tells you. "I watched it, and I really liked it. It made me think about a lot of deep shit that I don't normally think about."

"Uh huh," you say slowly. Your frown is still there, but now it's embedded in confusion as you try to understand his dilemma. "Then tell me about that. What was the deep shit?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

How is he supposed to explain that every single thought he had suddenly grew legs and yeeted itself out the window the second he saw you arrive today, wearing a stunning smile and a t-shirt that says Caution: Full of Shenanigans? Not once in his entire life had Jungkook felt so no thoughts, head empty.

"Because I can't think around you," he settles on being honest. "Because I keep thinking about you when you're not here, yet when you are, I can't even think at all."

It takes a minute for his words to sink into your brain, and Jungkook watches nervously as a blush spreads across your cheeks, so rosy that he just wants to grab your face and pepper kisses all over. For the first time since he has known you, you don't know how what to say.

The sight of you, rendered speechless by him being rendered an idiot, has Jungkook blushing too. Despite the patch of bashful silence that ensues, somewhere outside the metaphorical windows of his and your minds, both your thoughts are riding off into the sunset together, holding hands.

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 27.05.2023]

[aurumacadicus]

You can find more of this au under my 'arranged witching au' tag!

--

Steve sucked in a deep breath, then let it back out slowly, shifting on his feet so that he didn't tap his fingers nervously along his shield. It would feel too much like showing weakness. He desperately didn't want to be seen as weak by anyone here, but especially the Starks.

"Remind me why we needed to come while they were having a Meeting," he muttered under his breath, knowing Natasha's spelled ears would catch it.

She shifted up beside him, eyes sharp and calculating as they watched more and more witches filter into the entrance hall. She glanced around the vestibule they'd been told to wait in, gaze catching on a silencing spell--good. The Starks must have realized they'd need time to confer as the rest of the witching families became aware of their presence and came to witness a return of favor. "It's the best way to spread the word that danger is coming to us," she reminded him firmly. "We don't have time to go estate to estate. Besides, rich people are gossips--the smaller families will hear about the danger whether they want to or not."

Steve took another deep breath and closed his eyes. "Please do not call our hosts gossips in their own home." I don't trust the silence spell, he didn't say, but Natasha would understand it.

Natasha nodded slowly. "They probably have a different word for it," she answered, then looked down at the ring on his finger. Watching him put it on before he'd gotten into the carriage had been hard. She'd never seen Steve shake before, and she still couldn't tell if it was from nerves or actual, real fear. She looked back up at him, frowning. "What did Stark say when he saw it?"

Steve let a breath out in a hiss, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth as he reminded himself not to say too much. "He... isn't a man who shows his cards," he said carefully. Howard had mostly just stared at him, stony, and his wife had been the one to direct Clint toward the barn so the horses could rest while the rest of their traveling contingent had been urged through the reception room into the breakfast room. He finally pulled one hand away from the shield to slip his hand into his pocket, thumb smoothing over the slick-finished wooden box.

The Rogers coven had once been a well-established clan with lands of their own, but that had been back in The Old Country, as his mother had told it. They had a gemstone they called their own as well, a deep blue sapphire cut into a simple square cushion. It was nothing like the Stark coven's elaborate gemstone, but it was simple. Dependable.

It was his mother's, and part of him ached with the knowledge he would have to give it away. But it was only right that he give it to his future spouse. That was part of marriage. Reciprocation.

"They're bringing him down," Natasha whispered, jabbing her fingers into his back, and mercifully decided not to do it directly into his kidneys.

Steve jerked his head up, stepping to the edge of the vestibule so he could step out to meet the Starks in the middle of the entrance hall when directed by the butler standing just outside. There was something that seemed so needlessly dramatic about it all, especially as Steve took in all of the eyes turned toward where the Starks would arrive from (he didn't know why anyone needed an entrance hall, but he especially didn't understand why it had to be two stories, even if every available square inch of viewing space was taken up by curious onlookers). But then, he'd arrived during a Grand Meeting partially to force the Starks' hands, because they wouldn't be able to turn him away with an audience. So maybe he understood the dramatics, at least a little.

Howard Stark led his wife Maria into the middle of the floor by the arm, and then he turned, swanning one hand toward something. Another man, Steve realized belatedly--his son, obviously. Anthony Stark walked with all the suave surety of his station, never a single wasted movement, calm and steady with each step. He dipped his head in a short bow toward his parents, then turned, clasping his hands behind his back.

Steve swallowed thickly, fingers clenching around his shield to make sure he didn't drop it, hands suddenly feeling clammy. He allowed himself another centering inhale-exhale, then turned his head as the Stark butler turned and motioned him out.

"Mr. Rogers," the man murmured as he stepped out into the light of the entrance hall. "Rest assured, Mr. Stark is just as scared as you are." Steve's shoulders relaxed minutely. He didn't even care if it was true; just believing it would help him make sure to put his best foot forward.

It would help if Tony wasn't so fucking attractive, though, he thought, fingers clenching the shield tighter.

[beplerblurbs]

matching hats s.r.

pairing: unistudent!ricky x gn seatmate!y/n

genre: fluff

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: intentional lowercase, reader is shorter than ricky(?), not proofread

prompt: your seatmate ricky. reminds of you of a cat. you like to crochet during lectures and end up making ricky a cat beanie!

you and the rest of the students scamble off the cramped bus rushing to get to your classes. there's been a traffic with freshmen moving in and parents wanting to make sure they're prepared and such.

it was a little annoying because you knew your lecture hall was filling up with every second the bus was trying to reach the university bus station through all the traffic.

eventually you reach your lecture hall along with a cluster of other students for your arts history class, not the most interesting thing on 9 am mondays...

you entered from the back of the classroom, you see the professor preparing her lesson way at the front and the back of many students as they murmur amongst themselves.

with about 90% of the seats already taken, you wouldn't be surprised if you had to sit on the stairs at this point. eyes wandering for an empty seat, blond head stood out with no one beside one of his seats.

walking down the steps to reach the mysterious guy "sorry, but is this seat taken?", oh... he's so cute

with styled bleach blond hair, thick eyebrows, curious eyes, slightly ajar lips and neck tattoo saying 'role model,' you were taken aback by his good looks.

"no, take a seat" a warm smile welcomed you to your seat before he went back to looking at his laptop to prep for class.

just as you get out your notebook, your professor starts the lecture.

"good morning class, hope the travel to class was great considering the beautiful weather today," ironic considering you're actual trip.

the professor goes through the basic course breakdown to help everyone gauge expectations. you're already writing down due dates in your notebook's calendar. the prof seems really chill and you appreciate that.

she switches her slideshow to a large text that says 'introduce yourself to your seat partner and tell them a fun fact'

"you guys see the screen... do it, i'll give you guys 2 minutes" the class giggles at her bluntness.

you put down your pen to focus on this mysterious guy. he's confident and relaxed, he avoids making the situation awkward and goes along with the professor's request.

"hi, i'm shen ricky. i'm an international student majoring in performance arts and... my fun fact is that my friends said i resemble a cat earlier today" he smiles to himself, seemingly unexpected fun fact he chose to share.

"oh? i dont see it exactly... nevermind, maybe i just need to know you more to see it hah."

you on the other hand can't seem to not be awkward, trying to smile through it "uhm anyways, i'm y/l/n y/n, and i'm a student under the entertainment management program and this is one of my electives. my fun fact is that i love to crochet, you'll probably see me do it in lecture at some point."

"ah!" you were startled by ricky's excitement, "crocheting sounds so fun, i need to learn it at some point." you turn slightly pink, seeing someone be so interested in your seemingly boring hobby.

ricky continues on, "i think that just means we have to be friends and sit in class together so you can teach me," suddenly, ricky's hand as his phone out with his new contact ready to be filled with your information.

"sure!... this isn't like flirting or anything right?" as much as you were attracted to ricky's looks, you always set boundaries for yourself for comfort. you wouldn't let some new blond guy mess that all up.

he scratched the back of his neck, "oh no, not at all, but i really apologise that I came off that way. i'm actually interested in crocheting though!" his genuine tone was enough for you to forgive him and give him your contact.

"okay class lets start with the first lesson," before you could even give him your phone to fill in his number, the professor quiet downed the class.

unknown number: hi it's ricky, boy from arts history.

you take a bite of your favourite late-night snack, gummy worms. you had started studying a bit and took a break to go to your closest convenience store.

y/n: hi! its y/n, why are you texting at this hour? lol

you change the contact name,

ricky: sorry are you busy? I just wanted to make sure you still wanted to sit next to me in class on wednesday, if not thats fine!!

you giggle to yourself, why does he text cute too...

y/n: oh no worries, i just got my daily dose of gummy worms haha

y/n: but yeah we can meet up before class and sit together! i'll make sure i'm early next time...

ricky: lol yeah maybe to get a good seat, i'm usually in the library an hour before class

ricky: just lmk and i'll wait for you

and with that the conversation ended just as you re-entered your apartment to get back to studying.

hes seems so sweet compared to his cold appearance.

getting up early wasn't your favourite activity, but ricky said he would be in the library at 8 am (like a crazy man) so you decided to give him some company and teach him how to crochet.

you come in the library with an iced coffee in hand and leftover gummy worms in the other. a distinct blond head and neck tattoo became proportionate as you closer. "how are you so awake at this hour?" you yawn sitting in the chair across from ricky's.

he laughs, "i try to eat a full meal, i don't know if gummies and coffee count as one," you disregard it, "yeah, yeah.”

you set down your food and pull out two small bundles of yarn and two crochet hooks. "one for you, one for me. which colour would you like?"

"green please!" (i miss rijeong) you slid the pale pastel green bundle to his side of the table, leaving you would the baby blue yarn.

an insightful and detailed lesson on crocheting and somehow ricky's chain fell apart 3 times. he was genuinely trying. you thought it would frustrate him but him seeing you giggle at his mistakes made ricky feel warm inside somehow.

you sighed and made ricky put down his hands from crocheting. "we should got go to class now, i'll teach you another time. take notes for me as a trade?" it was an offer ricky couldn't give up, in his head it gave himself a reason to talk to you even more.

ricky simply nodded and put the yarn and hook into his bag. you guys walked out of the library, heading to the library with 15 minutes to spare.

during class, you spent most of it crocheting while taking in the information and ricky took notes on his laptop. yet he was the one not really listening, he was focused on how endearing you looked simply crocheting and listening intently. you didn't notice that though.

you ended up making some cute hand rags that you needed for your kitchen. "thoughts?" you ask ricky while showing off your 30 minutes worth of time. his signature sweet smile arose "very stylish, you're so cool." his non-chalant remark made you blush and shyly put away your pieces as the professor had ended the lecture.

"same time friday?" ricky said standing up, backpack slung over one shoulder, "same time every lecture," you confidently spoke, smiling and quickly going to your next class.

you weren't even in rush, your next class was in 30 minutes. ricky stood still in the lecture hall smiling to himself.

every lecture you began making random pieces, eventually making a sweater, a scarf, mittens, cup holders, and the list goes on. some of these for you, and some for ricky.

you stopped going to your convenience store at night, you became accustomed to ricky getting you some gummy worms the next day. in return, you got him and yourself iced coffees for the day. suddenly being awake at 8 am wasn’t so tough

as well, everyday you and ricky were texting more, hanging out after classes, usually to cafes. ricky was able to make a progress and finish a small square, but the focus needed made him want to take a break from the hobby. he said he preferred watching you crochet anyways.

this is what friends do right? hang out, talk and laugh, share sentimental stories, get each other small gifts, hug tightly goodbye, holding hands...

your boundaries were loosening up. however, with how much you enjoyed ricky being with you, you didn't mind it.

you were tapping your coffee lid as a fidgeting habit, ricky doesn't even acknowledge it. there was a comfortable silence as he scrolled on his phone and you looked out the window with the warm sunlight yet the dead trees and snow in the plant beds. the winter made the outdoors almost unbearable as you hated the cold, but you felt warm next to ricky…

you turn your attention to ricky and his relaxed state, focusing on his screen. "hm." you made a noise that caught his attention, he rose his eyebrows as he shifted his focus to you. he put down his phone and rested his chin on his hand, elbow propping him up.

"what you thinking about?" not phased by his flirtatious antics at this point, you didn't move. "i guess you do look like a cat,” you poke one of his cheeks. now he was confused, "all of a sudden?"

"yeah! like you have big doe-y eyes and your cheekbones kinda resemble the follicle cheeks... you just need the ears and whiskers." you eye-smile at the thought of rickys 'intimidating' face with cute ears and drawn on whiskers.

rickys ears can't suppress his feelings anymore, they grow bright red and he turns away, looking outside to the bright outside. "whatever." you knew he liked it but you let it go.

"we should go to class now," ricky stands up with his bag over his shoulder, waiting for you to pack up and walk with him to class. you reply a quick 'okay' before you stand up.

ricky already has his hand out for you to hold. you intertwine fingers with him and walk to your guys' class.

sitting in class you had some pink yarn in hand but you can't think of making anything other than those cute cat beanies you've been seeing online. mainly because you really wanted to see ricky in one.

it was simple and quick to make so you made two, matching hats make such a cute pair.

ricky was still actively committed to the deal where he does notes while you crochet. you hid the two pieces in your bag when he was focused.

"yah, what'd you make this time, i didn't even notice you finished it early"

you both walk out of class early and felt a strong wind chill hit both of your faces. ricky hides his face in the scarf you made before in class. "its so cold still, are you cold?" you see ricky's breath in the air.

"well i think this will warm us up," you smile pulling out the hats from your side bag pocket.

he makes a little happy 'o' face, ready to cherish the next crocheted piece you made. "ouu, what is it? what is it?" his eagerness made you smile big, and ask him to close his eyes.

he closes them quickly, eager to see what it is. you snuggly put on his cute pink cat beanie on his head, and then your own. "okay! open!"

ricky is completely whipped for you seeing your adorable face and a cute cat hat. "you're so cute, what about me? what do i look like?" he quickly pulls out his phone to swipe to the camera app and see what he got.

"the same one dork, aren't matching hats cute?" you can't even hide your smile, the cold was helping you look like your bright red cheeks were appropriate for the weather.

ricky had slowly begun to recognise your soft, vulnerable side had been coming out when you were with him. you were truly comfortable around him and it made him melt inside.

you suddenly felt your face smushed up against ricky's chest, a warm hug. "thank you y/n. it is cute" his little giggle came out as a vibration against your ear. you were also melting.

you look up at him and everything felt perfect. "hey ricky?"

"hm?"

"i love you."

a moment of comfortable silence, with the warmth of his heart heating up yours, you knew what he felt too.

"i love you too, y/n"

author's note: this ended up being longer than i expected........ i hope u enjoy the ricky fluff </3pls send in requests!!!!

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2.1k | tags: mutual pining, Eddie/OMC (nothing explicit), memory of the past | second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past | @steddielovemonth prompts Love is keeping a spare sweater/blanket in the car because they always get cold by @steddieasitgoes and Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️by @steddieas-shegoes | AO3)

Steve thinks that making out with Eddie on the dance floor at Dustin and El's wedding is probably not the most polite thing to do. Especially as the best man.

But boy, is it hard to stop once they start kissing, twenty years of longing and dreaming all flowing into an almost desperate need to get closer and closer. Eddie kisses Steve like he wants to crawl inside him so he'll never have to leave again, and by God, Steve wants him to. Now that he's finally feeling Eddie, tasting him, he's not sure he can ever give it up.

It reminds him of Christmas Eve '93.

He was in Hawkins for the holidays, staying with Claudia and Dustin, as he had done every year since he and Robin had moved to Chicago in '87. His parents usually spent the holidays in Florida anyway, claiming the weather was more to their liking. He had a standing invitation to join them there, but Steve never took them up on it.

He'd rather spend Christmas with his real family.

So every year, on the day before Christmas, their little close-knit group would come over to Joyce and Hopper's house and gather for a family dinner. It was a tradition, almost an unspoken rule. Christmas Eve was spent at the Byers-Hopper residence.

Even Eddie would come, come hell or high water. In fact, he once told Steve that it was part of every contract he had signed since their first record deal in '88. Eddie would have time off between December 23rd and New Year's. The rest of the year was pretty unpredictable; they never knew when they would get a chance to talk to Eddie on the phone or even see him in person, but Christmas Eve was set in stone.

The last time Steve had seen Eddie in person had been at Dustin's graduation in May. Eddie had come all the way from LA just to see Dustin graduate, and Steve had been so excited to see him. More so than usual, since Steve had just graduated from teaching after drifting aimlessly for a while before deciding to go to community college to become a teacher.

He was also single for the first time in a long time. And he had thought that maybe this could be their chance. For a future together. Because Steve could teach in LA just as well as he could in Chicago. Or maybe Eddie could make music while living in Chicago; the city had a great music scene and recording studios as well. It wouldn't matter where, just that it was them.

Steve had never stopped hoping.

That's why he'd wanted to ask Eddie out while they watched the kid they kinda co-parented graduate. Only the words had died in his mouth the second he realized that Eddie hadn't come alone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Tom. Tom, these are my friends, Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, Max, El, Robin and Steve."

"You're a friend of Eddie's too?" Dustin had asked the guy, and Steve marveled at how dense their token genius could be sometimes.

Tom had smiled at Dustin and taken Eddie's hand. "His boyfriend, actually. Is that okay with you guys?"

No, Steve had wanted to say, piss off.

But he hadn't. Instead, he had avoided Eddie and Tom altogether, barely exchanging more than a few words with Eddie and ignoring the hurt look Eddie gave him whenever Steve pretended to be too busy to talk to him. It was for the best, really.

Their Christmas Eve gathering was a family affair, no outsiders allowed. It meant that Steve would at least not have to deal with watching Tom all night, enjoying what Steve himself had hoped to have one day: Eddie's love.

But even without Tom physically being there, he was like a ghost haunting him. It wasn't even that Eddie talked much about him or anything like that. In fact, he was too busy asking Steve questions about his new job as a middle school teacher and about the cat he and Robin had adopted and how their crazy neighbor was doing.

It made it easier to forget about Tom. The eggnog helped, too, and by the time he had finished his fourth glass, he was leaning heavily against Eddie's side, warm and cozy and surrounded by his still familiar smell. It almost felt like back in '86, before LA. When they drove Eddie's van to the quarry and lay on a mattress in the back with the doors open, looking at the night sky.

Eddie always kept a spare blanket in the van, just for Steve, because Steve always, always forgot his jacket. By the end of September, when Eddie had left, the blanket had begun to smell of them both.

"This is nice," Steve said, his tongue loose and his inhibitions low. "Just like the van, remember?"

Eddie's arm was on the back of the couch behind Steve, and he used it to pull Steve even closer. "Yeah."

And then, in a lower voice, "I missed you, Stevie."

When Tom stood in the doorway to pick up Eddie, reality came crashing down on him.

Everything went downhill after that.

Because after Eddie and Tom left, Steve decided he couldn't stay a minute longer either. He couldn't handle the laughter and joy, and especially the worried looks Robin was sending his way. So he told everyone that he was walking home to get some fresh air and to clear his head of the eggnog.

"Are you sure? I can drive you. Or you can stay with me at my parents'; you know they wouldn't mind."

"Thanks, Robbie, but I want to be alone for a little while, okay? Just for tonight. We'll talk tomorrow, I promise."

She gave him a long, searching look before nodding and pulling him into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself, okay? I need my best friend."

His downfall was the bar on the way to the Henderson house, because he had just enough money in his pocket to get sufficiently shitfaced.

And just enough spare change to call Eddie from the pay phone outside.

It rang for several long minutes, and Steve was almost ready to hang up and try again when a sleepy voice on the other end grumbled, "This better be important."

"Eddiiieee," Steve cheered, "thought you wouldn't pick up. Thought maybe you were too busy screwing Tom to answer the phone." Steve slurred his words badly and wondered if Eddie could even understand what he was saying.

"Jesus, Stevie, you're drunk as a skunk! What happened?"

"You," Steve whispered, and then louder. "'Nothin'. Just, y'know, spending Christmas Eve alone and drunk. Got to get used to that, I guess."

There was a long silence on the other end, and Steve would have thought Eddie had hung up if not for the sound of his breathing.

"Eddie?" Steve had to ask, the silence between them worse than anything he could imagine.

"Where are you?" Eddie had asked suddenly, and Steve had just enough time to tell him before the line went truly silent and the dial tone rang through the speaker, the phone demanding more coins Steve didn't have.

Cursing under his breath, he leaned his head against the glass of the phone booth and pinched his nose to keep the tears at bay.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Eddie's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Steve, hey. Stevie, come on, wake up. Time to get you home."

Blinking up at Eddie, Steve was sure he must be dreaming. "Eddie? What -?"

"You sounded like you needed someone, so I came. Come on, you must be freezing, man, you're shaking."

"Am I?" Steve asked, his voice sounding dazed, and Eddie sighed. With an arm around Steve's waist, he led him over to his old van. The one he'd left behind after his first visit to Hawkins after moving west, realizing it wouldn't survive the trip back. Wayne was taking care of it so that it would still be able to drive short distances in and around Hawkins, ensuring that Eddie would always have a ride when he visited.

"Your chariot awaits, my prince," Eddie said, helping Steve inside. It still smelled like it did back then. The inside of the old van had a distinct aroma that mixed the musty scent of the worn upholstery with the lingering hints of herbal sweetness and Eddie's cologne. It felt like a snapshot from his memory, as if no time had passed since he had last sat here.

God, Steve had missed this car.

He patted the dashboard clumsily but lovingly. "I missed you, baby."

"Did you just tell my car you missed her?" Eddie asked incredulously.

Steve pouted at him as Eddie turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. "She's a lady, Eds. You said so yourself. And she was always there for us."

Eddie's eyes were soft as he looked over at Steve.

"You're right, Stevie. She was." And then he leaned to the side and turned in his seat to rummage in the back until he emerged with a burgundy blanket. He draped it over Steve with gentle hands until only Steve's head was sticking out. "You're still shaking."

Steve was too stunned for words, and maybe that was better, because Eddie had shifted into drive and pulled onto the blissfully empty streets of Hawkins.

It was Steve's blanket. The one Eddie had put in the van for him.

The drive over to the Henderson's was a quiet one, both men lost in their thoughts. It was only when Eddie pulled up to the curb in front of the house that Steve spoke again, his brain a little more alert than when he had called Eddie.

"Thanks, Eds. You didn't have to do that," he told Eddie as earnestly as he could while feeling like the car was still moving underneath him.

"I know. I wanted to, though. I'll always want to, you don't have to ask."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's you." He said it so simply, as if it were just another fact. The sun rises in the east, monsters exist, and Eddie would always be there when Steve needed him, even when he didn't ask.

"Kiss me," Steve begged, suddenly desperate in a way he couldn't understand. All he knew was that if he let Eddie go right now, this moment between them would be over and he would have lost Eddie.

Again.

"Please, Eddie." His voice broke at Eddie's name.

A soft touch on his cheek, feather light as calloused fingers caressed his skin before a warm hand cupped his cold face.

"I can't," Eddie whispered even as he leaned in, his eyes so dark they looked almost black.

Steve leaned forward as well, willing to meet Eddie halfway, something he wished he'd done so much sooner.

"Why?" Almost inaudibly.

"Because I don't think I could stop if I kissed you now," Eddie replied, pressing a tender kiss to Steve's forehead, right between his eyebrows. "Go inside, Stevie. Sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning."

And Steve went, if only to hide the tears on his face.

He didn't feel better the next day. Or the day after that.

It was a year before he spoke to Eddie again.

"Remember Christmas Eve '93?" Steve asks Eddie after they finally break apart.

Eddie's eyes are glazed and it takes him a second to get his bearings. He makes a questioning sound, clearly trying to catch up with where Steve's mind had gone, but then his face clears.

"Of course. God, you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you that night. It took everything in me to let you go."

"I wish you had. I wanted you to."

"I know, sweetheart. But you were also really drunk and upset, and I had a boyfriend. And even though he wasn't you, I didn't want to hurt him. He didn't deserve that. But most of all, I didn't want to make you the other guy. I remember how much you hated your dad cheating on your mom, and I couldn't make you a part of something like that."

Steve kisses him again to show Eddie that he understands and that he's grateful. Because it's true, he wanted Eddie to choose him, but not like that. Not by hurting someone else like that.

"But I loved you then. Which I guess wasn't fair to Tom either, but I just didn't know how not to."

"I know. I think a part of me knew then, too. Which made it hurt even more."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. What did you say in your toast? 'If you're willing to take the long and winding road, you know that whatever's at the other end is worth it.' You are worth it."

Later, in Steve's hotel room, sweaty and sticky and still catching his breath, Eddie vows to show Steve every day that he's worth it. That they're worth it.

[linkemon]

Part of your world (Azul Ashengrotto x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

"ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ ʜᴀs ɴᴏ ᴛᴇᴀʀs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇғᴏʀᴇ sʜᴇ sᴜғғᴇʀs sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ." ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ᴠᴇʀsɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴍᴏᴜs sᴄᴇɴᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ sɪɴɢs ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪғ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʀsᴜɪᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ғᴀᴄᴇ?

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜᴏᴛᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ ɪs ᴀ ғʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ "ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ" ʙʏ ʜᴀɴs ᴄʜʀɪsᴛɪᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀsᴇɴ.

Azul looked around his workshop. He couldn't say he had made it but compared to what he started with, it was a step forward. The great cauldron glowed with a dark purple glow. The smell of the potion coming from inside was foreign. No matter how many times he prepared it, it was always the smell of something he had never experienced before. The books said that the potion should smell of earth. Not that Ashengrotto had a chance to tell what it really smelled like.

He carefully measured out the seaweed, poured in a few tears, and sprinkled some ground grains of sand from the surface. He grabbed a large ladle and began to mix carefully. The eight tentacles certainly made his work easier but the work still required his full concentration. It was one of the few times in his life that he didn't completely hate his arms. After all, they were useful.

He slowly poured the still shimmering liquid into the vial and capped it.

— A beautiful night to escape from home! — The loud voice startled him and he barely grabbed the vial before it could shatter against the rock.

He saw [Reader] at the entrance to the cave. Not that he expected anyone else. This was her haven. A place she discovered a few years ago. So far, the only person who visited it, apart from her, was him.

He set the potion aside next to the others and pulled out the carefully prepared box to put them all away.

— You're not saying anything, Azul. — The girl tilted her head in that unique way.

Ashengrotto never talked much. So her worry surprised him.

— What would you like to hear? — he replied calmly.

— It's not what I want to hear that matters, it's what you want to say — she said.

Azul didn't answer. He just curled his arms closer to himself.

What was he supposed to say? What was he thinking? People never wanted to hear what he actually had to say. That's why he preferred to stay silent. Otherwise he would end up bruised. Like because of the mean friends who teased him when he was younger. Although, now that he thought about it, he probably could have taken them out with one swipe of his tentacle back then. However, he preferred to curl up in a ball, cry and allow himself to be kicked mercilessly. Crybaby. That's what they called as he snaked through the old clump of seaweed behind the school. Salty tears mixed with the sea water. And with the crying came the ink. The dark, sticky goo that was his greatest embarrassment and appeared when he was too stressed and sad.

[Reader] wouldn't laugh at him. The logical thinking part of him knew this perfectly well. After all, she had already seen him in this ugliest form possible. The day he first appeared in this cave. As an uninvited guest. Splashing and spreading ink around. He saw a glow amidst the murky and dirty water. The first thing he saw were the scales, shimmering with all shades of gold. Seeming to catch the sunlight coming through the hole above his head. Then he saw the mermaid's tail. Something he himself would have died for at the time. Only at the very end did he see a face. A little scared but curious.

No, she wouldn't laugh if he told her. She would be sad though. And Azul couldn't stand that.

— I'm thinking about your trip up there — he confessed.

It wasn't a lie, just an avoidance of the truth. He slowly became a master at it.

— I'll miss you but at the same time I'm so excited! — [Reader] seemed to be beaming.

It all started with his experiments. If he hadn't been here that day, maybe his mermaid friend wouldn't have wanted to come up at all. She wanted to help him, so she lent a place for a workshop among her finds. And she had plenty of them. The Coral Sea often washed up things that people on the surface weren't necessarily interested in. Garbage for some, priceless treasures for others. Some were found, others were bought at auctions from people who had contact with the surface or still inhabited it. The latter, however, happened rarely. The costs (including shipping) were usually astronomical and exceeded the budget of many adults underwater, let alone a child.

Between all these treasures he was stuck, with the start of his magic potion business. It wasn't much. A board, a half-decaying shelf and a leaky cauldron. [Reader] somehow found the rest over time. They patched up what they could and he started creating potions, which until then he only knew from books in the underwater library. Sometimes he managed to sell something and for some change he bought ingredients that were inaccessible and difficult to obtain. He swam, cried and spread ink around. So on the surface, not much had changed but now he swam, cried and spread ink in the company. And [Reader] was very grateful company. With her shiny tail, beautiful hair and a wonderful voice that he could listen to for hours as she talked about the world above. He seemed to be an incongruous companion for her. A purple monster with eight tentacles.

Maybe it was this sort of inferiority complex created in his mind at that time that made him devote so much time to help her fulfill her dream. He tried to brew a potion of transformation into a human with one's own hand (or rather tentacle). And he succeeded. After many tries. He couldn't remember if he had been so proud of himself before. Probably not. It was the most expensive vial he had ever held in his life. And he gave it back to [Reader]. So that she could go to the surface and see with her own eyes everything she had only dreamed about before. But when she came back, there was hunger in her. She wanted desperately to go back upstairs for more. Especially after she met SOMEONE upstairs one time. Her father was not happy, not to mention furious. He tried at all costs to bring the dreamer down to earth. It was then that for the first time in their history, Azul stood over the worried mermaid and not the other way around. In a fit of determination, he promised that he would make a whole stock of potions for her if necessary. [Reader] took this promise very seriously. Since then, all their collaborative efforts have led to this moment. To get a sufficient supply of money and potion so that she could somehow arrange herself on the surface. Just enough for her to be sure that she will be able to find a job and save up to buy more vials of the magical potion. Eventually, she also had to rent an apartment and constantly pay the bills.

The help Azul gave her was an adventure of sorts. However, it was difficult for him to get used to the thought that it was coming to an end.

Sometimes, looking at HIS photo on Magicam, where the mermaid had set up an account, he had the impression that the boy from the surface was like a statue. Beautiful but empty. However, he stood proudly on the pedestal she had placed him on in her mind and he refused to come down. He might think so but he wouldn't say it out loud. He even caught himself going to his profile and comparing himself to him. But no matter how hard he stared at the screen flashing in the dark room, he could never see anything he was better at. He took off his glasses, looked in the mirror and used ink to cover his pimpled face that he didn't want to see. On nights like this, he was glad that the reception in the Coral Sea was rather poor. Otherwise, he would spend his days staring at people he considered prettier than himself.

When he thought about it later, it occurred to him that at least in potion-making he had surpassed this two-legged opponent. If he couldn't be beautiful, at least he had a chance to be rich. In a while. But with whom was he to enjoy the shiny thaumarks? What else could he spend it on apart from the workshop, if he wasn't interested in anything else in life? [Reader] wouldn't be around anymore so she could use them to buy a new statuette from the surface and he didn't need much of them. Azul, unlike the boy from above, helped her fulfill her dream. At least he could take that much credit for it.

Azul wasn't entirely sure what he and [Reader] talked about that night. The memories slowly faded away like waves crashing against the shores above their heads. Maybe they were remembering old times. Perhaps she also mentioned something about how to get rid of mean kids, even though he hadn't had problems with them in a long time. He vaguely noticed a round, purple shell being pressed into its tentacle. The last collectible from the surface for the collection here. The same one that he attached to his hat some time later and that he didn't have the heart to part with. He was the one who would take care of the cave from then on. At least until [Reader] can visit her father again after his anger has passed. And even though Azul sometimes felt like he didn't fit in the small cave with his grand, slowly growing ambitions, a lump rose in his throat. The thought of being alone. Without this ubiquitous warmth and laughter.

— I will miss you, so much. — These were the last words he heard from her underwater. The next ones were only by phone.

Azul handed her a casket decorated with shells. The purple glow of the vials shone between them. Without thinking much, the mermaid placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. It meant nothing, as he well knew. It was a form of thanks. The real one was reserved for the lucky guy on the surface.

Despite this awareness, his tentacle involuntarily moved to the place where her red coral lips had rested a moment ago. It was like payment for a contract, even though he hadn't signed any at the time.

— Stay. — Came out from his lips. However, it was silent. Too quiet. It sank somewhere in the depths as [Reader], clutching the box tightly, swam to the surface. The glow of the world above them that her scales reflected that night seemed to be what he remembered most. They stood out amidst the dark ink as on the day he met her. He was a crybaby again in a clump of seaweed.

He couldn't then see the pained look on the little mermaid's face as she left her friend.

"But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more."

[ant1quarian]

could you do a scenario with a male reader where mafiafell sans finds someone crying and shaking in an alleyway, since they were just attacked and robbed and badly hurt, and sans decides to help care for the person’s wounds

thank you!

Of course :]

Didn't know whether you wanted it to have romantic connotations or not, so feel free to ask me again to rewrite it in a more platonic manner if you don't like it!

Hit, well. He wouldn't pretend that he was an overly compassionate person.

He didn't like to admit that he'd lost his ability to care about people the way he used to a long time ago, but it was still a fact.

It was because of these reasons that he. He hadn't expected to shortcut into the back alley of a popular bar and find you.

And hell, if he ever wanted to describe anyone as a mess that wasn't himself, you were definitely someone he'd put that label on.

Trembling, crying- several wounds scattered all over your form. It almost looked like someone had taken a knife to you, if the few slashes he could see were any indication.

He shouldn't have cared. He really shouldn't of- but he had. Something about you must have reminded him of himself, back when he was younger.

"shit." He'd cursed softly underneath his breath as he'd approached you in the way one would to a cornered, wounded animal.

Which you were, technically.

He cared about you. He cared about you a lot- to the point where he figured the best course of action would be to take you back to his house and get his lil' bro to look at you- maybe one of his other mafia counterparts.

Like hell he was letting Soot anywhere near you, though. Not with his track record with killing off humans.

... the part of him he didn't understand wanted to keep you safe.

He still recalls the way you latched onto the lapel of his suit's jacket and curled into him, handsome eyes looking up into his sockets with a hint of hope amidst the fear and worry.

...

He hadn't ever taken himself to be anything more than romantically orientated towards females- but, uh, heh. You sure were a game changer, huh?

...

With a little analysis of his life on one of those late nights where he's half-asleep next to you on the couch, Hit realised he probably actually had also been into guys.

His life had just... never really provided enough room for exploration of that kind.

But there was no denying the way you made his SOUL thump. Your scent made him feel comfortable and that little thing you did when you scratched the base of his skull-

...

He could feel himself melting.

And for once in his life, Hit decided that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to fall.

[sweettoothvn]

What do the cast look like when jealous?

I actually answered this back in December of last year-!

HOWEVER

the characters personalities have changed a bit

if you still want to see that old post it's here~

So i'll do a redo below uwu

Andre tries his best to be polite but it comes off as more passive-aggressive. Typically, he's not the jealous type. So if he is acting like this, it's most likely because you're talking to someone he doesn't like. Mind you, there are also not many people he dislikes. At most... just 2. So far. Anyways if the other person is flirting he will remind them that you are taken. If they don't take the hint he's going to hurry up and move you out of there. If the person continues to try...? It might get violent.

Casey probably tries to get your attention by making jokes or finding somewhere fun to go- away from that person you're talking to right now. He doesn't get jealous very often, it's only if the other person is flirting with you and you don't seem to be turning him down will he step in. He won't really try to tell you about how he felt about the situation either because everything is fine and you wouldn't hurt him right-?

Chrys seldom gets jealous herself- if she does she takes a deep breath and tries to remind herself that it's not worth the energy to act like that and it will only cause problems to act emotionally. She observes the situation and if it's just a normal conversation, she'll stand by. Obviously, if the other person is flirting with you she will call it out and drag you away, probably tell you what she didn't like about the situation too.

David isn't going to stand for this- it doesn't matter if it's a small conversation, if you're enjoying yourself with someone who's clearly not even close to his level he's going to drag you away. Not without insulting the other person and you of course. There are exceptions to this though. He seems calm if you're talking to Andre, Chrys, or Casey. Andre and Chrys, he trusts. Casey? How in the hell could that walking ball of cotton candy ever be a threat, is that a joke?

Eddie is quick to anger, grabbing you and dragging you away before lecturing you for talking to someone like that. Seriously why do you have to talk to strangers when you have him and your friends- preferably he would like it if you talked to him more than your friends in general but thats besides the point. He will get violent easily if the person confronts him. Yeesh man, calm down.

Kieran needs to be the center of attention all the time, cause if he's not then what's the point of this planet?? Depending on your personality he would play this in different ways. He might humiliate you so that you have to leave the conversation, maybe he'll start a fight with the other person, maybe he'll try to manipulate you by putting on an act that he's feeling sad. Whatever he does, he's going to make sure that you're not talking to that person anymore because they don't matter and they never mattered. Just him!

Noble will pretend like it doesn't bother him when it very much does. He listens carefully, trying to spot any romantic undertones and trying to find the right time to stop this conversation. He'll find some excuse for why you need to leave and hopefully you believe it and come with him. If not, he's still going to make you leave just with force. He'll apologize later and pamper you to make up for it, but he just needed that conversation to stop before he started picturing different ways to dismember the other person's body.

Zach tries to stick to himself for the most part. You're having fun and it's a normal conversation... so why does he feel so anxious about it? He's finally found someone who finally values him so of course he wouldn't want to lose you... But you're your own person too and he cant force himself into your conversation just because he's uncomfortable. He stands by for the rest of the time, overthinking until you finish talking to the person and go find him. He pretends that he's fine, pushing his worries to the back of his head while trying to convince himself that It was stupid of him to even have such thoughts.

[eruminx]

what kinds of gifts i think the adult trio would like

since gift-giving season is coming up thought id write something cute for my first post

H I S O K A:

he's not picky

a gift from you is attention, and he loves attention

would really like extreme gifts

like stuff that's so over-the-top and creative

would also like it if it was super something, like super cute, or super creepy, or super gross

would be over the moon if you gave him his favorite gum, or some sort of portrait of him

if you were to give him something super personal, he'd pretend he's not bothered but it would eat at him

simply because that's means you were able to pry yourself into his heart enough to know sensitive stuff about him

but he kinda likes to feel weak... although he would never say that to you directly

he would notice if it was handmade, but wouldn't appreciate it any more or any less

adores christmas, not because he cares, he just likes how extreme and passionate people are about it (and also likes receiving gifts)

loves secret santa

I L L U M I:

isn't capable of being picky

the only gifts he's ever received were weapons from his family to complete missions

would probably be confused the first time you give him a gift

"what's this? why are you giving me this? is it a weapon? i told you i don't need anymore weapons."

wouldn't tell you but he would like something cute and subtle

preferably something cat related

likes socks as gifts, he thinks they are very versatile

if you gift him a weapon he would say thank you quietly and throw it into the Zoldyck weapon basement

but if you two are in a relationship he would use it all the time just to be reminded of you

doesn't like tacky things, he likes everything to be high quality

if you gave him a super personal gift he'd be taken aback

it would bother him SO. MUCH.

he would get kinda pissy about it because close relationships "hold him back" and "distract" him from his missions

would be like

"how do you know this?? who told you this?? did you talk to my mom?? i told you not to talk to her without my permission."

wouldn't really notice if it was handmade, and even if he did he wouldn't really care as long as it's high quality

never really practiced traditional christmas with his family so he doesn't really care for it

but he does like the pretty lights and a nice warm fireplace

C H R O L L O:

wouldn't admit it but he's pretty picky

he has many very specific interests so he would imagine you have a lot of options

if you got him some kind of old book he's never heard of before he'd be super intrigued and grateful

or if you got him something ancient and fragile, he would love it and would take amazing care of it. especially if he's never seen anything like it before

and if you got him something generic he'd be like "oh! thank you." but he wouldn't really care for it and might forget about it

would want something that fits his aesthetic

would ask if you stole the gift lol

if you gave him something super personal he'd also be quite surprised

it would bother him a bit but then he would remind himself that it was his own doing and entirely his fault

he would actually be super sentimental about it, especially if it was something small he said in passing that you remembered

he would treasure it if it was handmade, he's the kind of person to look at an object's aura so he would know instantly just how hard you worked on it

he pretends he doesn't really care for christmas but he actually really does

he loves how much bonding is involved, and as a child he always longed for a traditional christmas

he kinda loves everything about it tho

Thank you for reading! Please do not repost this anywhere without my permission. Hope you enjoyed <3 - eru <3