#I have an vaguely connected world now!

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[circusballoon]

Catalyna!! I hadn't drawn her in a while.

She's a monster-hunting vampire with an enchanted axe, and today I've decided to relocate her to Munanhil (the planet my characters River and Eren are from), because I guess I need more threatening pink women there.

My actual reasoning is that Munanhil's story is a bit more monster-centric with horrific entities coming out of rifts in the fabric of space, so a bounty hunter who mostly focuses on bounties for monsters just really suits the setting. There are a lot of bounties available.

[ace-malarky]

Hey those are *my* siblings back off

I woke to a message from my friend this morning that went off into headcanons about my travelling band of chaotic feral mages that then spawned this piece of writing and ok it's probably rough and yes I did just write it in the two hours after midnight but hey

you know what

I kinda fucken like it

(in which Jasper might get pissed off by his siblings but no one else is allowed to even think about hurting them)

~~~~

The laughter – good natured as it is – grates at him like the screech of a badly timed parry.

Jasper clamps his sword in his hand and flattens his ears against his skull, snapping to his feet and turning on his heel in one smooth movement.

“Hey, Jas–” Llinos starts, falling out of stance even before the music halts.

“Don’t,” he replies, barely making the word not a snarl. “Just – don’t.”

Kaua and Tadhg stop playing. Tamhas is on his front, getting to his feet.

“Sorry,” Llinos says.

“Yeah.” Jasper stalks out of the clearing they’d made their camp in, leaves them all behind.

He walks far enough that he can’t see the play of their campfire, can’t hear them pick up the halting threads of a conversation he’d been part of when they’d sat down.

It’s nights like this when Kallyin feels closest to the surface, when the fire burns under his fingertips, when everything feels just a little more… a little more.

He won’t stay away long. Just long enough to soothe out his scorched nerves. Just short enough that they won’t bother to send someone out after him, because he doesn’t think he wants to find out who they’d send to talk him down first.

Even if he knows it will always be Llinos; they’ve known each other out here too long for her to send anyone else in her stead.

Jasper lets a little fire escape on his breath, siphoning off a little of his anger. Not anger. Annoyance. He remembers the way Kallyin would prowl, ears twitching, teeth bared in a quiet snarl. She’d always held his anger, and now he held hers.

 It isn’t too much later when he turns back to the forest he’s left them in. There’s nothing out here but the plains before the mountains, and he can only see them as a distant void against the night sky.

 He’s stepped too well to leave much of a trail, but he follows his nose back in along the faint promise of smoke, ears twitching to catch the faint sound of conversation.

 Jasper’s far closer than he ought to be before he realises that something is wrong, that he should have heard something of their conversation now, however faint. They wouldn’t have all fallen asleep without him there.

 He slows to a prowl and flicks his sword partially free of its sheathe, dropping into a crouch.

 The second thing he notices is that the fire is brighter than he’d left it. More spread out.

 The third thing is the charm that’s been painted onto a tree, still fresh and stinking of iron. He doesn’t recognise its design, but he knows it’s been painted in blood.

 A low growl slips past his teeth.

 Shapes in the clearing sharpen as his eyes adjust. Tamhas and Tadhg, back to back and slumped forward, noses almost to their knees. Kaua, gagged and tied up, struggling furiously under the watch of a man holding her down with the blunt end of a spear. She’s oddly muffled even for the gag, and that must be what the charm does, some kind of silencing.

 Llinos, flat out on her front like she’d been dropped, arms tied behind her, her bow in the grass beside her and dangerously close to the fire. There’s a scattering of arrows in the scuffed grass, Kaua’s sword, and another two figures watching them. They’re gesturing with their swords – little more than machetes, maybe, more suited for cutting through plants than people – and seem to be arguing. He can’t hear what they’re saying.

 He doesn’t care what they’re saying.

 No sign of Rhydderch, and Jasper hopes – he can’t see Llinos well enough to tell. He doesn’t think she’s bonded, he thinks that if she had they wouldn’t be caught like this, he thinks there would be more damage to their surroundings (he remembers bonding with Kallyin, the panic and the fire and the yowling pain that had nearly split his senses apart on the path).

 Rhydderch must be free, he thinks fiercely, not looking too closely at the pile of their belongings. It would kill Llinos for it to be any other way.

 He’s still growling. That’s his family down there.

 Fire slides between his jaws, eyes sharpening to slits as he places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

 Llinos hasn’t moved.

 The sound of it drawing rasps in the night, amongst the creak of branches and the rustle of leaves. There isn’t any wildlife nearby.

They haven’t heard; their charm works both ways.

One of the boys – he thinks Tamhas, the fire turning his sandy coat umber – groans and lists sideways, ears flicking up.

 Jasper bares his teeth and lunges from the treeline.

 Sound rushes back in; the fire, the argument, the fire, Kaua’s indignant muffled curses that are half shrieks, the fire.

 “You let that damned fox get away–”

 “It’s just a fox, what does it matter, some dumb animal–”

 Jasper slams into the two arguing men before they’ve realised he’s there; chops into one as he shoulder-barges the other to the ground, barely stumbling as he digs a foot into the ground and rips his claws through the dirt as he turns, holding his sword out.

 A screech pierces the night, a rolling alarm that isn’t any of them.

 The one he’d hit with his sword reels back with a cry, almost dropping his machete. He takes one look at Jasper and tries to run.

 Jasper snarls and fire tips his teeth and he doesn’t let him run. He throws his sword’s sheathe between his legs and brings him down, kicking the other in the face as he turns again, towards Kaua.

 The fire’s between them. It’s not as tall as he’d thought, but it’s more spread out. They’d added to it, made it more of a bonfire, a signal.

 The fire under Jasper’s fingers wants to answer it. Kallyin purrs in his chest, ready to play.

 The man levels his spear at Jasper, kicking Kaua away. She curses him again, digging her talons into the grass, flicking her head to try and dislodge the gag.

 Something screams in the forest beyond the clearing.

 Jasper’s grin sharpens as he recognises Rhydderch’s call. “You made a mistake,” he says, and his voice is barely recognisable, all low snarl and rasping threat.

“You’re surrounded,” the man replies, and keeps the fire between them.

One of the other men, coughing, sets off a flare that shatters against the sky, blinding the stars.

 “You think we didn’t come prepared?”

 “I think you’d like to think you did,” Jasper replies, and feints to his other side just to see him flinch. He turns his sword in his hand.

 There are other people in the forest, coming closer. Now that he’s broken the barrier, he can hear them. They’re not quiet.

 Llinos still isn’t moving.

 “If you’ve hurt my sister,” Jasper says, “Nothing will save you.”

 “Jasper,” says Tadhg, tailing off with a groan.

 “There’s more of them.” Tamhas sounds a little more alert. “Mages.”

 His opponent tries to take an opportunity, thinking him distracted as his ears flick in their direction, and stabs at him through the fire.

 Jasper twists sideways and slaps the spear away with his sword.

 The fire gutters under the draft of their weapons.

 Jasper breathes in.

 The fire dips some more. Shadows grow through the clearing. The flare dies above them, the stars reappearing.

 Jasper blinks, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

 His opponent catches his breath, hands tightening on his spear.

 Jasper lunges forward, through what’s left of the fire, and sweeps his sword up to catch on the spear’s haft, smacking it out of the way. There’s little finesse in his attack and they go tumbling as he lands, over and over until Jasper is on top and their weapons have been left behind.

He manages to punch Jasper. He hits Jasper’s cheek, splitting his lip against his fangs, snapping his head to the side.

 Jasper snarls – he’s been growling almost the whole time, but it erupts now, fire licking out between his jaws – and catches his hands, slamming them into the ground. “No one touches my family.”

Several things happen.

A group of men charge into the clearing with their weapons drawn. Rhydderch dashes in, another man on his tail. Tamhas breaks free and throws himself at one of the men Jasper had already downed, just as he got to his feet.

 Kaua spits the gag from her beak.

 Jasper throws himself sideways just before an arrow whistles through the space he had been. He rolls, steadies himself, lunges forward without really getting to his feet. He grabs his sword on the way, and charges into the group as the fire blazes back up in his wake.

 Kaua takes a breath and shrieks. There’s no melody to it; there are barely words. It rends the night, cuts through the clash of metal, slices the growl that buzzes in Jasper’s chest.

 Two of the men stumble, go ashen, fall to their knees and scramble backwards to the tree line. Several more turn and run, disappearing amongst the trees with Rhydderch on their tail.

 Jasper ducks a wild blow and twists his sword into two from the handle, palming one into his off hand. He wreaks havoc, surrounded as he is, and every slice finds its mark.

 Somewhere, Rhydderch barks. Somewhere, someone screams.

 “And fucking get gone!” Someone – Tadhg, he thinks – yells.

 There’s only one of them still standing, and that’s either because he’s stayed out of the way or because he’s actually good.

 Jasper’s keen to find out which. He could do with a challenge.

 This man has a curved sword and a buckler and a taunting smirk that he levels at Jasper as he backs to a clear space.

 Kaua has stopped shrieking.

 Jasper steps over one of his opponents and can’t find it in himself to care whether or not he’s dead. He bares his teeth in a facsimile of a grin, eyes dancing with fire.

 There’s a soft moan behind him – Llinos, finally awake.

 Rhydderch appears amongst the trees, stands tall and still for a moment, and then races towards her.

 Jasper’s family is safe, but they almost weren’t.

 Their swords meet in a discordant clash, his second screeching against his opponent’s shield.

 If Jasper cared, maybe he’d taunt him. Maybe he’d ask for information, find out if anyone hired them or if they were just being opportunistic.

 Jasper doesn’t care. Not really. His family was hurt and he hadn’t been there, but he’d got back in time.

 He locks the hilts of their swords together and pulls to the side.

 His opponent slams his buckler into Jasper’s chest and attempts to yank his sword back.

 Jasper stumbles backwards and coughs fire, staining his opponent bright with its warmth. His sword slips from his grasp and his opponent smirks, slowly repositioning as if he has the time to gloat.

 Jasper swings his other sword in and under his buckler, punching through his armour and between his ribs.

 His opponent has the audacity to look surprised, as if Jasper hadn’t been toying with him the whole time.

 Jasper steps back, yanking his sword free.

 The man staggers backwards, lifting a trembling hand to his chest. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something.

 Jasper tilts his head, lifting his sword to let the blood run off it and drip into the fire, where it sizzles.

 The man falls and slowly – finally – stops moving.

 One of the twins whistles.

 “Maybe we shouldn’t get on Jasper’s bad side,” said Tamhas.

 Kaua snorts.

 “Hey.” Llinos is partially leaning on Kaua, her bow in her hands with an arrow on the string, though she didn’t look like she’d tried to pull it at any point. “Thanks.”

 “Yeah,” Jasper says, and wipes his sword clean.

[cakeinthevoid]

I figured it out. Carrie and Willow are going to be my go to OCs for any given whump prompt. Hardcore whump? Let us reflect on Willow’s time with the institute >:) Caretaker fluff? Hurt comfort? Homeboy Carrie got us covered.

[jacksintention]

I can't with the previous post. It's just so good applied to Levi, Lacie, Oswald and even Jack.

Levi has his hands tied by the Baskerville system that is a sort of scam by the Jurors‚ like every Glen. But he says "let's just create a change" and gives a will to the Core. And he does so with the full intention of changing the narrative, if just to avoid the boredom of spending eternity watching the same thing happen over and over again from a sit in someone else's mind.

Lacie goes along with it because of her desire to ease the Core's loneliness, but in her idea of the children of misfortune being a consequence of this loneliness and her feelings of doubt or reservations, perhaps, revealed even before the tree scene in the scene in which she talks about this with Oswald, we could interpret this as her desire to end the existence of the children of misfortune and thus the cycle.

Jack plays into this in his attempt to take the "real" world to the "Abyss" world, but when he most consciously twists the narrative the Jurors had settled was when he intently made the decision to take the power from the Baskervilles. And I do think it has to do with ending the very system that doomed Lacie and Oswald and he deemed cruel and like torture, but mainly it is so that no one would interfere with him in the future.

Oswald tries to destroy the new narrative Jack has or is creating first by trying to stop him, but later on by trying to stop Levi's schemes before everything happened, resettling the narrative he was controlled and doomed by, serving still as their tool. And then he literally faces the truth, in the most explicitly way no one ever has been told this in that "real" world before, and threatens to kill the instigators of that narrative. And then just renounces, in a lack of action that is him at his most active ("not with a bang but a whimper", how fitting is that?!!!).

Ultimately there is a middle ground but the narrative is changed for good. For better or worse. With uncertain future consequences. But it is changed, and it feels kinder. And as a thank you the source of every narrative, the ink and paper of the narrative, lulls someone who shouldn't have existed but changed the world to sleep by telling him a different story. Because that's it. They're stories, and Oz deserved to go with a kinder one, because the ink and paper of the narrative loves him. And it's so interesting how that works metanarratively too. The author tells the story, but the author tells the reader a story about the stroy telling a softer version of the story, so that the reader too will get it alongside Oz. That works on several levels and it's so so interesting.

[freebooter4ever]

This is 1000% random but came to mind regarding the duck movie. I sometimies watch movies without sound if I think they might ~suck~ like that... so just a tip if you want to see it but not sort of experience it :D hahahha

heh, well. ive already seen it fully so the damage has been done. i bought it even, thinking i would want to rewatch it, but i really REALLY dont think i will. ever. i have watched a LOT of bad movies for my stupid infatuations over the years so honestly im used to it.

[viviaj]

its 6:57 in the morning and you can vaguely feel kuroo’s cock pressing against you.

with his hand pressed against your soft stomach, he silently presses against your back. you’re not really awake, but you’re not exactly asleep either.

kuroo loves morning sex, he likes to feel you and hear your whiny sounds as your eyes struggle to adjust to the early light— as they adjust to him intruding your peaceful sleep.

he’s a pervert, he thinks for a moment; wanting to press his fingers into you while you’re barely awake. he thinks he should feel guilty, but you always react so dubiously that he can’t help himself.

with his cock still rubbing against you methodically, he reaches for your little shorts and slips his hand down to your soft sweet cunt.

he runs his hand over your thighs, and every part where you connect with him. it’s not enough.

he’s slipping a hand between your folds, gently feeling you. there was no intent to get you off; just a pure moment of wanting to feel you and touch you. he slips a single finger into you and its him groaning into your shoulder.

“baby?” he murmurs against you and a small noise comes from the back of your throat, “you’re so soft,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“i have to, baby,” he’s sitting up and gently prying your legs apart, “i have to put my cock in you baby, okay?”

he’s not really asking, more so just letting you know. he’s not wearing a condom.

your body twitches up into him as he enters you, just letting himself feel around you. your hands move up to his arms as you murmur that he “shouldn’t”.

“i don’t see you making much of an effort to stop me,” and you just let yourself whine, eyes pressed closed as kuroo is everywhere on you.

“but we shouldn’t, kuroo, we can’t,” he thinks it’s funny when you act like this because as soon as he takes his cock out, you’ll whine and groan, just like you are now. you’re so predictable.

so he does that. he moves down to your neck, kissing you lightly over, and over again. “just the tip, please. please?” you’re begging, just like he knew you would. he loves you.

“oh? just the tip?” you nod quickly, “okay baby, just the tip.”

it is not just the tip.

with one hand, he’s holding your legs up; giving himself the world-class view of watching his cock disappear into your pretty pussy.

you’re breathtaking like this. smooth, and sweet and pretty. he can’t help himself, and how could you even blame him? not when he’s so close to you, and so sweet to you as he’s smiling down at your batting eyes.

“what is it? talk to me, baby,” no words come out, just a soft hiccup coming from your lips. “you don’t have to do anything, you’ve done enough,” his eyes soften with the softness in his smile; which do not correspond to the way hes moving in and out of you.

kuroo and you have never fucked without a condom before, and it shows. it feels so intensely different, with the knowledge that this is something you shouldn’t be doing, it’s explosive.

“gonna cum in you, yeah? just let me take care of you.”

“kuroo, we- we can’t, we shouldn’t,” you’re pathetically murmuring, hips moving up towards him. everything you’re saying is contradicting your actions, it’s silly.

“okay baby, yeah, i won’t, dont worry, ” kuroo lies. with your face buried into his neck, you mouth at the skin there, unable to say much.

he tells you how good you feel, how your cunt is so soft and he just can’t help it.

“you’re so warm,” you whine into him, the feeling of him cumming in you foreign, it doesn’t feel right.

kuroo reaches down to kiss you wherever he can manage to reach you, his arms keeping you where you are.

“good morning.”

[girllblogging777]

𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐷𝑆 𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁

↳ theodore nott x fem!reader (fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0.8k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : in a moment of loneliness and feeling misunderstood, theo finds out you also speak italian

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

theodore nott didn’t enjoy crowds. he didn’t particularly enjoy loud gatherings, or the constant buzz of chatter that came with being around people all day. he preferred the quiet, a good book, an empty common room, a silent walk by the black lake. but somehow, he always ended up where people were, dragged along by his friends or because avoiding them would be too much effort.

tonight was no different. though the common room wasn’t packed, there were enough people to make it feel a little too alive. a few were studying and some others were caught up in conversation, it was too noisy for theo. his patience wore thin as he sat near the back, a book open in front of him, though he hadn’t read a single word.

across from him, you were sitting quietly with your own book. you weren’t much of a distraction, unlike the others, and that was part of why theo didn’t mind you being there. you didn’t force conversation, didn’t push for attention. you were just… there. it was calming, in a way.

but tonight the room felt too small and theo’s mood was slipping. the weight of things he didn’t say, things he didn’t know how to say, felt heavy. he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he closed his book, his mind spinning.

"what’s bothering you?"

your voice was soft, not pushing, just curious. theo looked up, his gaze meeting yours. he hadn’t even realized you were watching him.

"nothing," he muttered, trying to keep the facade up, though the irritation in his voice gave him away. "just tired of… all this."

you raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "all this?"

he gestured vaguely at the room, at the people, the noise. "everything. it’s all pointless. no one really cares about anything important. they just talk to hear themselves."

there was a pause, and theo half-expected you to drop it, to go back to your book and leave him alone. but you didn’t.

"maybe they do," you said quietly, "but it’s hard to hear it sometimes."

he looked at you, a bit surprised. your words weren’t confrontational, but there was something in your tone that made him stop. "they don’t," he muttered, leaning back in his chair, feeling the frustration build again. "it’s all surface-level. no one actually understands."

there was a moment of silence, and then you said something that made him freeze. "io ti capisco." (i understand you.)

theo blinked, staring at you in disbelief. italian. you had spoken italian. he hadn’t expected that, not from you. not here.

"what—" he began, his voice quiet. "you speak italian?"

you gave a small nod, a soft proud smile playing on your lips. "yeah. my family’s italian. we spoke it at home growing up."

theo was silent for a moment, trying to process this new information. it felt strange, hearing those words from you—words that felt like they belonged in another world, a world far removed from the one he lived in at hogwarts.

"why didn’t you ever say anything?" he asked, his voice quieter now, less guarded.

you shrugged lightly, as if it were no big deal. "you never asked."

he couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at that, running a hand through his hair again. "yeah, i guess not."

there was something in the air now, something different between the two of you. it wasn’t just the fact that you spoke italian, it was the way you had said it, the way you looked at him now. like you really understood. and for the first time in a long time, theo felt like he didn’t have to explain himself.

"parli bene," (you speak well) he said after a moment, his voice soft as he switched to italian, testing the waters.

you answered with a small smile, in a light but sincere tone “anche tu” (so do you)

and that was it. the connection had been made, something unspoken but understood between you both. it was strange, how a few words in a shared language could shift everything. the tension in theo’s chest eased, the frustration slipping away as he realized that maybe, for once, someone actually got it. got him.

"i didn’t think anyone else here would understand," theo admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “i only ever spoke it with my mother,” he added hesitantly, staring down. “so, it’s been a long time.”

you looked at him, your expression soft, understanding. "you’re not as alone as you think, theo."

he swallowed, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. he hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that—needed to know that someone, anyone, saw him. really saw him.

"thanks," he added quietly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t laced with sarcasm or bitterness.

you smiled at him, that same gentle smile that made the world feel a little less heavy. "anytime."

and just like that, the noise of the common room faded into the background. the two of you went back to your own books and the weight of everything else, the pressure, the expectations, the loneliness all seemed a little more bearable for theo. because he wasn’t alone.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thanks to @pintrestgrl for the request ! this is my first time writing for theo so i don’t really know what to think of it

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated !!! don’t hesitate to leave requests too xx

[mooooonnnzz]

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same. 

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford. 

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes. 

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears. 

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved. 

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was ���his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands. 

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!” 

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!” 

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?” 

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford,  buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on. 

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.” 

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Chris have been keeping their relationship a secret for just over a year until one day where Y/N feels ready to announce it; OR, where Y/N and Chris soft launch their relationship.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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It was a typical Thursday morning, with the sun shining strongly against the outside walls of the house, keeping it warm. Inside the comfort of the room, Y/N and Chris were lying on their bed, wrapped in each other's arms after waking up. The rays of warm LED lights danced softly over their skin as they exchanged caresses, each touch filling the room with tenderness.

Chris, with his messy hair and a lazy smile on his lips, watched Y/N with adoration. His eyes conveyed a mix of love and gratitude for having her there.

Meanwhile, Y/N was in deep thought. Her eyes were fixed on the white ceiling as her mind studied the complexities of keeping their relationship a secret. As she stroked Chris's hair and felt the comforting warmth of his embrace, her mind was in a whirl, revisiting the moments when they agreed to keep things a secret.

She considered the reasons that led them to this decision. The pressure of the triplets' fandom, the intense attention from social media, the invasion of privacy that comes with public exposure - it all weighed on her mind. The girl vaguely remembered the heartfelt conversations they had, the mutual concerns about how fans would react to their relationship. It was a delicate dance between the desire to share her happiness with the world and the need to protect her own privacy.

However, despite all the rational arguments that accumulated in her mind, there was an undeniable desire that consumed her. She wanted to be able to shout to the world that Chris was hers, without restrictions. She wanted to be able to walk hand in hand with him down the street without worrying about some fan seeing them and commenting on Twitter about it. She wanted to be able to appear in the triplets' videos as Chris's girlfriend, not as just a friend.

While reflecting on the pros and cons, Y/N noticed that, despite all her fears, her love for Chris transcended all worries. Despite the challenges they would face, their connection was stronger than any of it. She knew it was time to put aside her fear, despite not knowing how to deal with his fans or fame, she wanted to be able to look Chris in the eye and say with pride that he was hers, in every sense of the word.

So, between the light pecks of Chris's lips on her skin and the caresses of his fingers on her hip, Y/N felt her heart speed up, and she decided it was time to take a step forward.

"Chris..." She began, her voice soft and somewhat hesitant.

Chris's eyes met hers, a mixture of curiosity and concern reflected in her gaze.

"What is it, babe? You look serious." The boy frowned, sitting up slightly and keeping his upper body supported on the bed by his left elbow.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathering all the courage she had within herself.

"I... I think I'm ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?" Chris asked, confused.

"Ready to no longer hide our relationship." Y/N declared, her voice firm and determined. She turned her body sideways, still lying down, but now facing him.

Chris was momentarily stunned, processing her words. Then, a radiant smile spread across his face, his eyes shining beautifully.

"You mean... You mean you're ready to make our relationship public?" His voice came out high-pitched, a sign of euphoria.

"Yes, Chris. I'm ready. I want this, I want to be able to say I'm yours. No restrictions." Y/N nodded, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

"But, are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with." The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line, his heart racing in anticipation.

"I've never been so sure before, pretty boy." Y/N nodded again, a smirk decorating her face, feeling light as a feather.

Chris sat straight on the mattress abruptly, pulling her up with ease, ignoring the small scream of surprise that escaped her lips. He sat her on his crossed legs, spreading several kisses over her cheeks, nose, and forehead repeatedly, eliciting loud laughter from the girl, her heart overflowing with happiness.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink as the triplets were in their usual seats in the car, recording the video that would be posted on the following Friday.

"Her beauty is crazy, I watch her from the crowd." Chris sang suddenly, a small smile on his lips, looking at Matt sideways.

"I wrote a couple of things down that were in my brain..." Nick began, ignoring Chris's sudden singing. "I love citrus. Anytime I can get my hands on a citrusy fruit, I want it. The juice, the flavor... it's delicious." He continued, a smile on his face as his eyes went from Chris to Matt and back again.

Nick's random remark caused Chris to jump excitedly in the passenger seat. His eyes lit up, and a smile grew on his face.

"Citrus drinks?" He asked, turning his upper body to the side so that he was closer to the oldest triplet.

"Yeah, I love it! Orange juice, lemonade, anything with a hint of citrus." Nick responded, pulling out his phone to look at his notes for the video, not noticing the change in Chris' behavior.

Chris felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest as his mind raced to a single person: Y/N. She also loved citrus drinks. It was one of her most striking characteristics.

"This is awesome!" Chris exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. "Y/N also loves citrus drinks, you know? She's obsessed with orange juice and lemonade! Also, I always get her lemonade when she participates in one of our videos, remember?"

As he ramble, Chris felt his face heat up, a red color spreading across his cheeks and neck. It was difficult to control the shyness when talking about Y/N, even if it was just mentioning her preference for drinks.

Matt and Nick exchanged amused glances in the rearview mirror, immediately noticing Chris's change in mood.

"Wow, she really likes citrus, huh?" Matt commented, with a playful tone, raising his right eyebrow.

"Uhm." Chris nodded, his involuntary smile growing even wider on his face, quickly pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to stop himself from continuing his barrage of comments he could spend hours making about Y/N.

Nick planned to delete the short minutes while editing, but he ended up forgetting it, creating an intense mess in the comments.

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extra - comments:

"wait, did yall see how Chris blushed while talking about Y/N? 🥺"

"omg Chris talking about Y/N was the cutest thing I saw today 😭"

"Chris and Y/N? how long did I sleep?"

"omg omg omg are they together?"

"date someone who talks about you like Chris talks about Y/N 😫"

"Chris getting super excited JUST TO SAY THAT Y/N LIKES CITRUS DRINKS 😭😭"

"I really hope Chris and Y/N are together, they would be super cute together 🥺"

"there's something going on that we don't know about 🤨🤨"

"spill the tea guys 😔✋🏻"

"I think this part wasn't supposed to stay in the video LMAO"

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liked by sturniolo.triplets, yninstagram and 408,823 others

christophersturniolo oops, forgot to mention it 😬🤍

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[witchywcmans]

TOO SWEET. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after accepting his new title, your moments alone with laios start to become a rarity. it was hard for him to find time, making him long for the days in the dungeon with you. and now, the kisses between you two were quick and desperate, until one night...when a very tired laios just can't seem to ignore you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus + fingering, praise, size kink, reader on top, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, yearning + sexual tension, laios and reader haven't boinked in a bit, monster facts as dirty talk ofc, confession, mentions of dubious consent in 5th paragraph (from when the winged lion switched into laios's body). nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.4k

song inspiration ━━ howl, florence + the machine / oil & water, pvris / love story, taylor swift

author's note ━━ THIS ONE-SHOT CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF DUNGEON MESHI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! okay, part 3 (and final part) of my laios series is here! like the other parts, this could be read as a standalone, if you want. my plan for part 3 was to make it vague in case ppl who haven’t read the manga want to read it, but that kinda went out the window. I highly encourage everyone to read the manga if you want more of the story, it gets so interesting! I'm a SUCKER for a knight x ruler ship, so that's what you're getting in this!! I've enjoyed writing this little connected series so much and it really pushed me to start writing reader one-shots! if it hadn't been for all the ppl in the dungeon meshi fandom who read my work, I probably wouldn't have started this. this anime + manga has become one of my absolute favorites!! I hope you guys enjoy this! ps: don't worry, I will be writing more laios in the future 😉

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

After what felt like years, all was right in the world when the Island’s dungeon was destroyed and the Golden Kingdom finally rose from the sea. You had gotten to know Laios – in more ways than one – throughout your journey inside the dungeon, which had left you terrified at some points, especially when you almost lost him. But it hadn’t surprised you when the people had declared him King of a land that was thought to have been perished 1000 years ago. With everything he sacrificed, Laios – the devour of monsters, the destroyer of demons – was the only right person to rule.

With the help of Marcille, Senshi, Chilchuck, and even more friends met along the way, Laios was advised thoroughly as he undertook the stresses of establishing the Golden Kingdom once again. He had to deal with villager problems, instituting the economy, and keeping an eye on the monsters that took residence in surrounding lands. He watched them from his bedroom window on the farthest tower of the castle, admiring the beasts that warded off any threats to the kingdom. But his passion had become the production and preservation of food throughout his land, specifically in regards to magic and monsters. He made sure not one person in the Golden Kingdom went hungry, even if it killed him someday.

Most days were spent researching with his advisors or sitting in the throne room, listening to villagers' pleas for more building materials, better water, or whatever else they came up with that day. Laios made sure to listen to every ask, but he had to admit – just talking to people was exhausting. He never regretted his decision to become King, but sometimes … he longed for the days in the dungeons, tearing into whatever monster they cooked up that night, fighting alongside you, holding your hand or kissing you … tasting you.

Like your former party members, you had taken up residence in the castle as Laios’s chief knight and sworn protector. It made sense, given the fact that you had saved him with your crossbow on several occasions in the dungeon. You frequented by his side, except when he was in his own chambers. You led him to meetings, walked with him through the streets of the kingdom, protected him if any threats arose. Ever since you took up this mantle, your moments alone together had become rare. There had been one night: after Laios was safe and sound in the walls of the castle … that you shared his bed with him, tears streaming down your face because you had been so worried for him, but it didn’t matter anymore now that he was safe, and healing, and pounding into you so hard that it left you both gasping for air. Besides that, the only encounters you had alone were fleeting, consisting of swift, passionate kisses and rough squeezes in dark corners. You two hadn’t been intimate in any sense of the word since … well, since the Winged Lion was defeated. 

Just the memory of the demon made you shiver. You remembered when the Wing Lion had switched into Laios’s body and granted his true desire to become a monster. Before trying to escape the dungeon, he had tried fooling all the party members that he really was Laios and he almost fooled you. You recalled the way he had tried to kiss you – probably devouring your own desires right from your mouth – and how his hands so eagerly tried to slip underneath your skirt, finding you already aching and ready for your lover, just needing to be touched after being so distraught over Laios’s wellbeing. But you recognized the foreign contact from a mile away, and you had pushed him back, screaming at the Winged Lion to bring back your Laios.

You shook yourself out of the memory as you walked Laios back to his bed chambers that night. His stomach was full from dinner, but he was also worn out from a long day of meeting with his advisors. Marcille had really chewed into him about something today, but you weren’t sure of the reason. Holding open the door to his room for him, you caught his tired, lingering gaze before he disappeared inside. You swallowed hard, stationing yourself outside his door, your fingers on the handle of your sword. Nights like these were hard. They were lonely. It was just you out here, manning the King’s chambers, with nothing but the memory of his mouth between your legs or his groans echoing in your ears. 

His half-lidded eyes tonight had you reeling, squeezing your thighs together as you tried to forget about how much you wanted him. It had been almost two weeks since he last kissed you. And that kiss had been quick, desperate, two people colliding in the small, unlit closet used by the maids.

Your hand enclosed around the hilt of your sword, and you nodded at two other guards walking past. If you kept losing yourself to daydreams like this, there was no way you’d be focused enough to protect Laios from an immediate threat. That’s what mattered after all: the King’s protection … the King’s protection … the King. Surely, it wasn’t wise to be so entranced with the new King of the Golden Kingdom as his sworn sword. And again, you understood why you were picked. But it was nights like this where you really wished you had just been … his lover. Hell, you’d even survive with just being a lady of the court if it meant no more secret meetings in closets.

You could’ve dwelled on this predicament for hours, if the door to the Laios’s chambers wasn’t opening.

You turned immediately, your hand on the hilt of your sword going tight. But it was just Laios, leaning against the open door and rubbing at his tired eyes. He had shed his fancy clothes for a nightshirt and loose-fitting drawers. His hair had grown a bit longer, and he refused to cut it out of spite. The way it was sticking out right now, pushed back slightly by his hand … you swore you could feel your knees buckling.

“Your Grace?” You greeted, remaining professional, until you saw that look in his eyes again. That tired, lingering gaze. Full of want, and care, and desperation for another body against his.

His eyes crinkled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your call. “Please, do not feel the need to call me that at this hour.” He then held out his hand, beckoning you closer.

Swallowing hard, your eyes flicker down the barren hallway before taking his hand, letting him lead you inside his bed chambers. This was the moment you’d been waiting for so long. His movements were calculated, deliberate, as he slowly shut the large door. You unhooked your belt and scabbard, setting them by the door. As you turned to him, he was already in front of you, helping you take off your armor. His fingers were slow, not in a hurry, as he fiddled with the metal fasteners. He struggled with some clasps, muttering under his breath, and you laughed softly. Each piece was set delicately on the ground, and then he was lifting off your chainmail as if it weighed nothing. You sometimes wondered how you were able to walk around with such heavy material every day since taking up this mantle.

Finally, you were left in nothing but your clothes beneath the armor: a loose red tunic and suede trousers. The relaxed nature in his eyes vanished, replaced by an intense hunger, mirroring the stance of a wolf. Laios was rushing towards you, pushing you against the wall, and pressing his mouth onto yours. You matched his desire tenfold, winding your hands into his hair as you kissed each other with desperation. His fingers fisted into the sides of your shirt, pulling you against him, while his tongue prodded into your mouth. He groaned immediately. All this time without tasting just a bit of you had him weak in the knees. He’d never go this long without kissing you ever again.

“It’s been weeks,” he muttered between kisses. Gone was the monster-obsessed adventurer who saved you from turning into a sea serpent. He’d been replaced by a King who yearned for your touch the second he saw you every morning.

“Since we last kissed,” you corrected as he pressed your back even further into the cold, stone wall. His lips broke away from yours, leaving a trail of spit connecting you two. You exhaled, “It’s been months since we were alone for longer than two minutes.”

“I know,” he sighed, now nuzzling his cheek against yours, “and I’m sorry. All I want to do is go back to the dungeon … with you. It’s just … there’s no time, and I’m so tired.” His mouth then dragged to the shell of your ear, and you shivered when his hot breath ghosted over the side of your face. “But the way you looked tonight at dinner … I don’t know … it was the way the wine made your face red … no matter how tired I was, I had to have you tonight. I missed you so much.”

You were sure that your cheeks had to be as flushed now as they were at dinner. Just his kiss alone had you wet, already wrapped around his finger. “I missed you too, Laios.”

He hardly gave you a second to continue before he was kneeling in front of you. He couldn’t wait; there was this fierce longing in his eyes that only you could cure. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your trousers as he muttered, “I need to taste you.”

Despite his desperation, he did take a moment to admire how soaked your underwear was, how he had always been the one to cause this. You looked down at him and he looked up at you. With long, expert fingers, Laios tugged your underwear down along with your trousers. Your pussy was absolutely dripping, like a goddamn faucet. A whine escaped his lips, hungry for a taste, and he spread your folds just slightly to see the wetness gather. There were just about a thousand monster dishes he enjoyed, but nothing – absolutely nothing – compared to how delicious you were.

Laios didn’t even give you time to step out of your pants and underwear. He was grasping your hips and burying his face between your legs, pushing you right back against the wall. You choked on a moan, even though you both knew you had to be quiet, but you just couldn’t help yourself. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder to give him better access, and when he finally got the first few drops of you on his tongue, he damn near started crying.

You were exquisite. You were too sweet. Sweet like Dryad fruit.

Grinding your hips against his tongue, you whined out his name and realized how badly you had needed him in this way for weeks. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tugging his face deeper into your pussy. He lapped at you, absolutely ravenous, groaning when more slick entered his mouth. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly. His fingers dug into your hip, surely bruising you, while his other hand wrapped around your leg and pushed them even further apart. 

“Missed the way you tasted,” he muttered before flicking your clit with his tongue. “I could do this for hours.”

You let out a shuddering breath, already hazy from his touch. “Why don’t you then?”

“I want to,” he chuckled, all awkward and blushing. Just the sight of him looking up at you with those pretty eyes while licking a stripe up your pussy had you gasping. “Tomorrow. I promise. I just need to be inside you tonight.”

His promise for tomorrow had your heart fluttering. You both were going to make time again, but he also had more plans for you tonight. This wasn’t going to be just two minutes in a closet. Thinking of him stretching your walls with his girth, pushing into you after all these weeks of yearning for him, of touching yourself whenever you could because you just missed him so much … it all made you start to buck your hips against his tongue again. You knew how much he loved that. You physically felt him smile against you, sucking on your clit once again as he prodded one finger inside your tight warmth.

Your eyes rolled back once he found your g-spot, curling his finger and beginning to pump in and out. “Fuck, Laios, I –”

“Needed this so badly,” he confessed, swirling his tongue around your increasingly swollen clit. His cock was straining against his drawers, precum seeping through the thin fabric, but he wanted you to cum on his tongue first. It’s all he’d been dreaming about. “Needed you.”

“I needed you too,” you whispered, and then felt him add a second finger inside of you. You bit the side of your hand, muffling your moan. “So good – fuck. Doing so good, Laios –”

Your body was starting to shake, your walls clenching around his fingers. Laios was relishing in your taste, teasing your clit in the most delicious way. You were so, so close and he needed this so much and so did you and before you knew it, you were crying out into your hand again. Your pussy went tight as his fingers curled into your g-spot and you came all over his waiting tongue. Laios whimpered when he finally tasted your release, pushing his face as much as he could into your pussy, almost suffocating himself. He licked at you, making sure he got every last drop, and when your hips finally stilled, he pulled his fingers out of you with a wet pop and lapped at the excess.

Sweat ran down your brow as you settled against the wall, trying to calm your breathing. When you opened your eyes, Laios was getting to his feet and towering over you. His hand clasped around your jaw and gave you another bruising kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It was like he was trying to devour you, to mold both of you into one so you could be together forever.

Carrying you over to the bed, he set you down on top of the blankets and finally tugged your pants and underwear from your ankles. You laughed together when he realized that he had gotten so excited he forgot to rid you of these. "Sorry," he said, setting them down in a pile.

You couldn't help but smile when you noticed the blush on his cheeks. "Missed me that much, huh?"

His face went even more pink. "Stop embarrassing me when I'm trying to seduce you."

He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and before his fingers could grasp the hem of your tunic, you were pinning him with the brute strength he forgot you acquired in the dungeon. "You don't have to do much to seduce me, Laios," you whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

Now underneath you, you straddled Laios's lap, feeling how hard he was in his drawers. He looked up at you in shock, like you were an offering from the Gods, as you lifted your tunic off and dropped it to the floor. His breathing stilled, watching the way your breasts heaved, and his cock was practically begging for release. 

You leaned down, pressing your mouth to his throat, placing sloppy kisses on areas that made his breath hitch. This was the new King of the Golden Kingdom under you, trembling from just your lips on his skin. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were wrapped around his. Dragging your lips down, you kissed his chest before finally swirling your tongue around one of his nipples. Laios muttered expletives under his breath as you wrapped your lips around his nipple, pinching his other one. His whole body was becoming tense underneath you, his straining erection poking against your backside, but you kept teasing him.

At the end of the day, you were always there for your King.

Once both his nipples were taut and wet from your expert tongue, you leaned back up to his face and kissed the corner of his mouth. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, cupping your face so tenderly. “Laios, I just want to be extra sure. Do you want to …?” Your question hung heavy between you two, but recognition flashed in Laios’s eyes. You nuzzled the side of his face and added, “I know you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you up if you’re that exhausted.”

“I’ve been thinking about this – about you – for weeks,” he said, his eyes filled with need. “I want this. I want you.”

You stared at him, absolutely melting at the sight of that dopey grin on his face once again, the one you loved so, so much. Now you were blushing, unable to not giggle when you saw that grin. You traced the curve of his mouth with your finger, and he bit down on the top of it unexpectedly, making you both laugh. This is why you loved Laios: everything was so easy with him.

Wait, love. Is that was this was? The burning feeling in your chest whenever he was near. The way you couldn’t help but smile whenever he did, or how you always laughed along with him. The natural disposition to protect him, whether it be from demons or people. The way you could so easily melt under his touch, under his kiss. It had always been there, staring you right in the face … love.

Feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest, you finally moved so he could push down his drawers, and his hard cock sprang free. Precum leaked from the blushing red tip, dripping down his shaft and onto his stomach. You adored how pretty his cock was, how easily he could stretch you out with his girth. He liked the way you looked at it now, how you praised him. It took a couple of times, but he eventually stopped being embarrassed about his size around you. He still liked to give you monster facts as he fucked you sometimes – as a treat.

Laios’s hands settled on your hips as you lifted yourself, positioning yourself above his cock. You wrapped your hand around his shaft to get the perfect angle, smearing his precum and making him hiss. “Did … did you know,” he said, voice strangled, “the maximum speed of a Red Dragon is approximately – oh, fuck – 60 kilometers per hour?”

“Mhmm …” You hummed, finally lowering yourself with his help, sinking down onto his cock slowly. Once he slipped a few inches inside your warm, wet walls, you both gasped. You placed your free hand on his chest and encouraged, “Tell me more, Laios.”

“Gods …” He breathed out, feeling your body quiver above him. “I … uh – fuck … people have theorized that changelings – shit – use their ability to change living things in order to propagate their species – fuck, almost there –”

You both let out a breath of relief once he was finally seated inside you. Laios sat up, tugging you more against him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stayed there for a moment, adjusting to his size once again, clinging to him as he kissed your cheek and murmured how you took him so well. You’d probably never get used to how big he was, but he filled you so nicely, so completely. After making sure you were comfortable, Laios decided to take the reins and began moving you on his cock. You whimpered after the first pass, and he had to grip your hips so tightly just to stop himself from going overboard, wanting to make this last just a little while longer. Each roll of your hips had you mewling as his cock curved inside you, brushing your spongy g-spot. His fingers dug into your skin, rocking you back and forth, grinding your already oversensitive clit against his pelvis. 

Burying your face into his neck, you let him start to bounce you on his cock. He groaned, feeling himself throb inside your tight heat. Everything about you was perfect: from the way you fit him inside of you so nicely to the way you whined against his skin, begging for more. He was thoroughly obsessed with you. It was a miracle that it took him so long to initiate with you after the Golden Kingdom had risen. He found himself thinking about your touch, about your taste, more often than not. And the way you smiled at him, your laughter sounding like wind chimes in a busy street market … he knew how deep his feelings went, farther than he expected. He was the King but you were the one who brought him to his knees every time.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, biting and sucking on the side of your neck. “You always feel so good … so warm …”

He started thrusting up into you when his arms got a little tired, and you let him simply take control. There was so little control he had in his life now, especially since he was being watched almost all the time, so you’d give him this – you’d give him you. And gods, did it feel good to just melt into him, to not be his sworn sword, just for a little while. Right now, you two were just lovers, desperate to soothe each other’s ache.

The expansive bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and moans echoing off the ceiling. Your arousal oozed out with each roll of your hips, dripping onto the lavish blankets befit for a King. But neither of you seemed to give a damn as his nails created crescent shapes in your hips, and you squeezed around him so much that he choked on a whimper. With your face nuzzling the crook of his neck, you carded your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly and eliciting another sound from him.

“Did you also know,” he began in a strained tone, “fuck – wargs have no fear of monsters larger than themselves – please, fuck – not even … not even dragons?”

“Are we still doing that?” You snorted, lifting your head from his neck.

He laughed along with you, and now you both were looking into each other’s eyes as he thrust up into you, hitting the best spots. He leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, moaning at the way you squirmed. His tongue moved to lick up the valley between your breasts, almost animalistic, before his mouth was grazing yours and his eyes were burning into you like melted gold. You clung onto him tighter, your chest flush against him, and you knew then that this wasn’t just fucking anymore. Laios was making love to you and you were making love to him and – fuck, he was going to make you cum so hard to make up for the past few weeks.

You were creating an absolute mess on top of him, just a blabbering heap of moans and whines, eyes locked on his as you rode him into oblivion. “I’m gonna cum,” you mewled, unable to keep your voice level. Your fingers tugged on his hair again, and he responded by downright slamming you up and down his thick cock.

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” One of his hands left your hip to reach in between your bodies, where you both were linked, and two fingers began to circle your clit. You hissed, back arching even more into him. Your vow to be quiet long forgotten as he teased your ache. “That’s it … there you go.”

Laios knew his strength, and it was certainly showing it off tonight. He was rocking your hips on his cock – so close to release – while rubbing your clit in tight circles. His sweet nothings in your ear had you crying out his name, and after a few more messy passes, you were cumming around him. You were shaking like fresh mandrake in his arms. Your walls squeezed him so tight that it only took one more thrust up into you before he was emptying himself into you. He came with a lewd groan, his hands falling to his sides and leaving you to bounce yourself on his cock through his release. Eventually, when the wave after wave of pleasure settled between you both, you slumped against him and breathed heavily. And he just held you, burying his face in your neck and licking at the bites he left on your bruised skin.

When you lifted your head to kiss him, he surprised you by rolling you onto your back, his soft cock slipping out and leaving you feeling empty. He kneeled at the end of the bed and spread your legs wide open, letting your combined releases spill out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and the anguish in his tone stunned you. “It’s been weeks, and I just … I need you.”

As soon as the word, “Please,” left your lips, he was diving in again, spreading your folds with two fingers. He licked a long stripe through your pussy, gathering your releases on his tongue. He didn’t care that he was tasting his own cum; all he wanted was this – you. He lapped at you, still starving for your taste, and the way he had you cumming again was slow, calculated. Laios edged you, teetering you on the brink of release, before his hunger got the best of him. And when you came again on his tongue, it felt long and relaxing, like a weight had been lifted off you. Warmth seeped from your aching pussy and onto his tongue. He drank his fill, relishing in your sweetness.

Laios rose back on the bed, curling against your side like a tamed dire wolf. His arms slotted against you, pulling your naked front against his once again. His hand lifted to your cheek, pushing strands of hair behind your ear. Your noses brushed against each other, and he finally kissed you, slowly and passionately. There was no desperation left in him. It was replaced by the steady rhythm of his heart next to yours. 

“I love you, Laios,” you blurted in the softest voice you could muster. Once you realized what you said, you didn’t dare open your eyes to see his reaction. You simply felt him, his lips hovering just over yours, and then he hummed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and your eyes opened to watch him. That dazed grin appeared once again, making your insides twist and your cheeks tinged pink.

Laios practically giggled and pecked your lips just to soothe your nerves. “I’m not sure how to handle you like this,” he joked, finally making you laugh with him. “Usually, you’re the one making me nervous.”

“I just …” You shook your head. “I was afraid you wouldn’t say it back.”

“I thought it was obvious that I’ve been in love with you since we first met,” he said in that straightforward tone of his. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones and he smiled. “Seems like I’m cooler than I thought.”

You chuckled, hitting his chest and making him fall back onto the bed. You were sitting up slightly, propping your elbow and resting your chin in your hand. Laios was looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky. Both of you knew, instinctively, that a King being intimate with his sworn protector was typically frowned upon. Neither of you truly cared, but the opinions of his people had to matter. He was a new King after all, and every move of his would be scrutinized. Which left him with one option.

Lacing his fingers with yours, he said, “We should get married.”

Your brow furrowed. “That seems a little rash.”

It was your gut instinct to deflect, to push him away, even when you scooted yourself closer to him. But you couldn’t deny that this had been in the back of your mind, shoved in the dark corners when you thought it might be too crazy of an idea. The first time it popped into your brain was when you saw Laios’s monster form lying helpless on the ground. His body was deteriorating, blood seeping out from every crevice of the three-headed creature. The Winged Lion had been defeated, but you couldn’t stop the wail that erupted from your mouth as you took in Laios’s monster body, reeking of death and despair. You remembered running from from the tower, taking one of the heads in your arms, and crying, your tears soaking the fur. 

But then you and Marcille found him amongst the trees of the island, where Falin’s body had been frozen and resting against a boulder. From the moment his eyes met yours, you had no doubt that this was your Laios. And he was okay. He was tired, but he was okay. You didn’t think you could shed any more tears, but then you were running towards him, wrapping your arms around him, and he was burying his face in your neck and – gods, that had to be when you knew. With the relief flooding through you and his arms embracing you … you knew then that you wanted to be with him forever. You didn’t want to see him in harm’s way ever again. You would kill – again and again – for him. You would be by his side as long as he would have you. You loved him. You wanted him. Forever.

Laios snorted, bringing you out of the memory. “Rash? After how long we’ve known each other?” His tone grew serious. “I trust you with my life. That’s why I named you my sword. But I don’t want to go weeks without you ever again. I love you – I’m in love with you – and I know that I don’t want anyone else by my side.” He squeezed your fingers in his own. “I want to marry you. And then, we can be together freely with you as my Queen and sword sword.” He then paused, thinking. “We can do that, right?”

You laughed. “You’re the King. You can make your own rules, but …” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment as you mulled over his words. “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” He then tapped his chin, feigning curiosity. “Unless you want me to marry Marcille? It would certainly be a loveless marriage, but she can be friendly when she isn’t advising me.”

Shaking you head, you flicked his arm. “Not sure if your sister would appreciate that. Or Marcille, for that matter.” Not even magic could force those two apart. They would love each other until the end of time.

Your eyes narrowed now. “Are you actually proposing to me without a ring, Your Grace?”

The formality made him cringe, but then his face relaxed as he stared up at you, taking in your beauty. You were the most beautiful like this, vulnerable and bare with your hair jutting out at every angle and your lips swollen from kissing him. But he’d reckon you were beautiful in every light. He couldn’t help but also think back to when you found him by Falin’s crystalized form, how it felt to just hold you again after such an egregious fight. Your warmth had seeped into him, reminding him of home. You were home. And that was when he knew, too, that he wanted to be bound to you. 

Laios brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles. “Once the sun rises, you will get a proper proposal. I’ve always been a man of my word, haven’t I?”

And that he was. Because the moment you stirred awake the next morning, still sleeping in his bed, you opened your eyes to find Laios, King of Golden Kingdom, kneeling at your bedside. He held out a ring to you, eagerly awaiting your response. Once your eyes adjusted to the light and you saw his golden doe eyes, his big grin, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Of course, you said, Yes.

[sweetcherryharry]

i love you, i'm sorry

based on the song 'i love you, i'm sorry' by gracie abrams.

pairing: harry styles x actress!reader

i promise the next one shot i post won't be angsty!! haha i just love it.

(masterlist)

Two Augusts ago, the world was theirs. Y/N, a rising actress with a radiant smile and a captivating screen presence, had just landed her breakout role in a critically acclaimed film. Harry, the soloist singer from one of the most known boy bands worldwide, was on the cusp of global stardom. Their paths crossed at a star-studded after-party, a whirlwind of flashing cameras and intoxicating energy.

Their connection was instant, a magnetic pull that drew them together like moths to a flame. Y/N was captivated by Harry's wit, his passion for music, and the vulnerability he revealed beneath his confident exterior. Harry, in turn, was mesmerized by Y/N's intelligence, her infectious laughter, and the way her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

Their romance blossomed in the spotlight, a whirlwind of red carpet appearances, stolen kisses backstage, and late-night jam sessions in dimly lit recording studios.

Y/N's career soared as she took on challenging roles, her performances garnering critical acclaim and adoration from fans. Harry's solo career skyrocketed to fame, their music topping charts and filling stadiums with screaming fans.

But as their individual stars rose, the cracks in their relationship began to show. The demands of their careers pulled them in opposite directions, leaving little time for the intimacy they once cherished.

The constant scrutiny of the media added another layer of pressure, their every move dissected and analyzed under the harsh glare of the public eye.

As Harry's band embarked on a grueling world tour, the distance between them grew, a chasm widening with each missed call and unanswered text.

Y/N poured her heart into her latest film, a drama that demanded her full attention. Long hours on set and emotional scenes left her drained and craving the warmth of Harry's voice, the comfort of his touch. But his calls became sporadic, his texts filled with vague apologies and promises of making it up to her.

One sweltering August evening, after a particularly draining day on set, Y/N's phone finally buzzed with an incoming call from Harry. A wave of relief washed over her as she eagerly answered, her voice trembling with a mixture of longing and frustration.

"Harry! It's been days," she exclaimed, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. "I've barely heard from you."

"I know, love," he replied, his voice muffled as if he were speaking from a crowded space. "I'm so sorry. It's been crazy out here."

"Crazy? Or just too busy for me?" Y/N retorted, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

A heavy silence settled over the line. "Don't start this again, Y/N," Harry sighed. "You know how hectic touring can be."

"But you promised to call more often," she said, her voice rising with each word, like the crest of a wave before it crashes. "You promised to make time for us, even when you're on the road."

Her eyes, once filled with trust and understanding, now held a glimmer of doubt. The weight of his broken promises bore down on her shoulders, reminding her of the distance that had grown between them.

They had talked about this, hadn't they? It had not been the first time the topic had arisen.

Three times now, they had sat down together for a call, their hearts filled with hope, and he had reassured her with promises of improvement.

But like sand slipping through one's fingers, his pledges faded into emptiness after a few short weeks. The sting of betrayal pierced her heart, leaving her feeling lost and alone.

"I'm trying, okay?" Harry snapped, his patience wearing thin. "But it's not always easy. You have your work, I have mine. We can't expect to be glued to each other's side all the time."

His words stung, a harsh reminder of the growing distance between them. "Maybe you're right," Y/N said, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe we're not meant to do this anymore."

A tense silence followed, broken only by the sound of Harry's ragged breathing. "Is that what you want, Y/N?" he finally asked, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

Y/N closed her eyes, tears welling up. "I don't know what I want anymore," she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "All I know is that this isn't working. It's not the way it used to be."

More silence. Then, a resigned sigh. "Maybe you're right," Harry echoed. "Maybe it's time we both moved on."

The call ended abruptly, the silence echoing in Y/N's ears. She collapsed onto her bed, tears streaming down her face. The love she'd once cherished felt like a distant memory, a fading dream.

Ever since that day, they haven’t spoken.

Two years drifted by, a silent chasm stretching between them, filled with unanswered calls, unsent texts, and a lingering ache of what could have been.

Y/N immersed herself in her career, her ambition a shield against the pain of their separation. Each successful role, each award, was a testament to her resilience, a badge of honor earned through countless hours of dedication and the shedding of silent tears.

Harry, on the other hand, had soared to fame. Sold-out stadiums, chart-topping hits, and a whirlwind of adoring fans marked his journey. Yet, amidst the deafening roar of applause, a quiet yearning gnawed at him, a longing for the warmth and laughter that had once filled his life.

One night, as Y/N mindlessly scrolled through social media, her thumb absently swiping past countless posts, a video thumbnail caught her eye. It was from a popular Pop news account, and the post was recent, just published a few seconds ago.

It was a grainy, fan-recorded clip of Harry's final show in Europe. The caption read, “Harry Styles singing a new, unreleased single about heartbreak on one of his shows on August 18th.”

A date seared into her memory, the two-year anniversary of their heartbreaking split.

Curiosity, mingled with a bittersweet pang of nostalgia, compelled her to click on the video. The familiar strains of Harry's voice filled her ears, but the song was new, raw and vulnerable, a far cry from his usual upbeat anthems. As the camera zoomed in on his face, she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes, a vulnerability she hadn't seen in years.

"This song," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "is special to me. It's for someone who I hurt deeply. Someone who I never stopped loving, even when I was too proud to admit it."

Y/N's breath hitched. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a sob. It was as if he were speaking directly to her, across continents and time zones, his words piercing through the carefully constructed walls she'd built around her heart.

Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she listened to his voice with the guitar melodies, the lyrics pouring out of Harry like a confession, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

I love you, I'm sorry.

The words echoed in her mind, each syllable a painful reminder of their love lost. The video ended, leaving Y/N breathless and overwhelmed.

A wave of emotions washed over Y/N – sorrow, longing, and a flicker of hope she hadn't dared to feel in years. It was as if the distance that had separated them had vanished, replaced by an invisible thread connecting their hearts.

The video ended, leaving Y/N breathless and overwhelmed. Lost in her thoughts, she absently refreshed her Twitter feed, her eyes widening in shock as she saw her own name trending alongside Harry's.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrolled through countless tweets, each one dissecting the lyrics of his new song and speculating about its inspiration. The consensus was clear: it was about her.

"Harry's new song is a love letter to Y/N," one tweet proclaimed.

"He's clearly still in love with her," another user declared.

"This is the apology we've all been waiting for!" a fan account chimed in.

The sheer volume of tweets, the overwhelming outpouring of support and speculation, left Y/N reeling. It was as if the world had become a chorus, echoing the unspoken truth that had lingered between them for two long years.

As the tweet became more popular, her phone buzzed with incoming messages from friends and colleagues, all asking the same question: "Is it about you?"

Y/N didn't know how to answer. A part of her wanted to deny it, to protect herself from the potential heartbreak that lay ahead. But another part of her, the part that had never stopped loving Harry, yearned for it to be true.

As she re-listened to the lyrics of his song, the raw emotion in his voice echoing in her ears, she couldn't deny the truth any longer. It was about her. It was always about her.

The emotions swirling within her were too powerful to ignore. With trembling fingers, Y/N typed a simple message:

“Hey.”

She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the send button. But before she could second-guess herself, she pressed send, the message disappearing into the digital abyss.

To her surprise, the three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately. Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for his response.

“Hey.”

His reply was a single word, but it held a universe of unspoken emotions.

“I listened to your new song,” she typed back, her fingers flying across the screen.

“It's for you.”

The words appeared on her screen, stark and unadorned, yet carrying the weight of two years of regret and longing.

Y/N's breath hitched. She didn't know what to say, how to respond to this unexpected confession. A million questions swirled in her mind, but the only words she could manage were:

"Can we talk?"

The reply came almost instantly:

"Please."

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Y/N's veins. She didn't know where this conversation would lead, but she knew she had to take this chance.

After two years of silence, the door to their past had been cracked open, and she had to find out if there was any hope of rekindling the flame that had once burned so brightly between them.

[bongosinferno]

A devastating and confusing thing about the Fallout setting, when you explore the pre-war aspects, is what the creators think about pre-war America. In the first games we only get hints of the pre-war world, but they seem to be some sort of wild fascist nation invading Canada. In Fallout 1, the first thing we're introduced to of the pre-war society is seeing a soldier shoot civilians and laughing.

Now, for the first 2 games and New Vegas we don't really know much. What we know is that there's a fascist military group known as the enclave who were a sort of US deep state even before the war, and that the government teamed up with corporate interests to preform vaguely MKULTRA-ish experiments with the Vaults. Basically, the government was an extreme version of the 50s American jingoism and McCarthyism.

This is well and dandy, I guess issues come up more when we get to the later games, especially 4, where it seems like none of this extreme plotting and societal civil unrest which would exist is seen. The society as presented in 4 also seems quite progressive, gay people are featured in the opening, and none of the baggage of say, civil rights not existing are included. Now on a baseline, I don't want settings to be more conservative, homophobic and sexist etc., but it becomes a very confusing setting when it's displayed both as this jingoist extreme thing with fascist tendencies aswell as a progressive place where everyone is seemingly equal. If you're focusing on the 50s as your setting, and American nationalism in the 50s, then you can't have McCarthyism spoofs and anti-communism as a societal paranoia norm while also general equality is the norm without misunderstanding why McCarthyism and nationalist jingoism is bad. A massive harm done in anti-communist paranoia is how it degrades and vilifies any progressive movements (women's rights, civil rights, homosexuality) as being morally un-American and therefore connected to communism. To ignore this just makes any critique of MacCarthyism and jingoism weird!

Basically, pre-war America in Fallout 4 becomes this both sides thing where America is both pure and equal and white fences in every instance that we see as the player (the intro), while also supposedly being this dystopic MacCarthyist hellscape that's broadcasting gladly about their war crimes in Canada, and wants to root out communism. I guess the only fix for this issue without getting into the fine print like they had to do is just not to focus too much on the pre-war world.

[linderosse]

✨ Wisdomverse x Smash ✨

< Prev | 15 | Next >

Masterpost

It’s time.

I finally get to talk about Smash and the Zeldas :).

How this wacky little fighting game series represents the LoZ gals and influences them in Wisdomverse— explained under the cut!

Exactly four Zeldas make an appearance as playable characters in the Smash Brothers franchise, spanning different games and decades.

[OoT] Lullaby: Melee (Zelda and Sheik), Smash4 (Sheik), Ultimate (Sheik)

[TP] Dusk: Brawl (Zelda and also Sheik somehow), Smash4

[ALttP/ALBW] Fable: Ultimate

[ST] Phantom (a special case): Smash4, Ultimate

Funnily enough, there have also been four Links in Smash, although they’re not quite from the same games as the Zeldas.

[OoT/MM] Time: SSB64 (Adult), Melee (Adult and Young), Brawl (Young), Ultimate (Young)

[TP] Twilight: Brawl, Smash4

[BotW/TotK] Wild: Ultimate

[WW/PH] Wind: Brawl, Smash4, Ultimate

Now, Smash is just about as non-canon a game as Hyrule Warriors— and we all accept Wars and Artemis. And some Zeldas arguably have more of a chance to display their skills in Smash than in their own games.

Therefore, I’ve peripherally incorporated Smash into Wisdomverse:

Characters who have met each other in Smash will sometimes recognize each other from there, as if they’ve met in a vague dream. They may also forget. Such is the ephemeral world of Smash to its players.

To keep things fair, Smash connections and story will not be relevant to the plot of Wisdomverse.

Each mainline Smash Zelda also gets one of the three Golden Goddess skills from their Smash moveset to use in Wisdomverse, based on their personality and events from their actual games.

Charismatic, dramatic Fable gets to blow things up with Din’s Fire — like how Fable and the sages blast through Ganon’s barrier in ALttP

Steady, calculating Dusk gets to defend against attacks with Nayru’s Love — reminiscent of the twilight pyramid encasing her in Hyrule Castle in Twilight Princess

Quiet, stealthy Lullaby gets to teleport short distances with Farore’s Wind — like how Sheik (technically Requiem, not Lullaby) vanishes ninja-style in Ocarina of Time

And there you have it! Rebalancing the Zeldas, one skillset at a time :).

Extra:

For the truly dedicated folks, here’s a further analysis of interesting (and intentional on the part of the devs) Smash x Zelda facts:

Despite clearly looking like Dusk and not Lullaby, Brawl Zelda is able to turn into Sheik in both the plot of Subspace Emissary and in battle in Brawl. She loses this ability and goes back to normal in Smash4.

Despite clearly looking like Twilight, Brawl Link is shown with Navi in Subspace Emissary.

Wind is clearly Wind, and not Spirit, because he has the Wind Waker as a taunt in all three Smash games he shows up in.

Wind uses some of Legend’s attacks. And some of Time’s attacks. Wind is a dirty rotten move stealer (affectionate).

Phantom isn’t technically playable, but both Fable and Dusk summon a phantom to fight alongside them, and neither of them have seen a phantom in any of their games. Also, while their phantom summoning skill is recharging, they have a purple glow around their hand. Therefore, I’m inclined to believe they’re literally summoning Spirit Tracks Zelda (Phantom), like Robin summoning Chrom for his Final Smash, and you technically control her, so close enough.

In Melee, Young Link is clearly from MM, while Link is from OoT. This means Young Link is older than Link (just Time things).

[cobaltperun]

Mabel x Fem!Reader (Masc-Female Reader)

They are at the bar, Charlie is interested in Mabel though she only notices R. That's all... I know it isn't a lot but I hope you get inspiration and do something better.

Next Week

Mabel x female Reader

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

One more week, and then she’d go to college. Just one more week before she truly turns her life around. No more drugs, no more dangerous people surrounding her. It wasn’t all bad, she met some good people, but more importantly, and outside of that world, she met you. From the corner of her eye, she watched you win a game of darts against some guy she vaguely knew.

Charlie sat down next to her, preventing her from subtly watching you, but the grin on his face prevented her from getting mad at him. He was a good guy, and still in love with her, but she was in a long relationship when she met him, and he just never had the chance. He still tried every now and then, he still thought she was single. She never bothered to correct him. Her relationship was a secret, removed from the world she used to be in, and even now, months after she got out, started fresh, the old habit remained.

“So, new start next week?” he smiled when she nodded, leaning back so she could once more glance at you while still keeping the conversation going.

“Yes, I can’t wait to leave,” she truly couldn’t wait, but there was a really good reason for the one last week of delay, and she was currently looking at said reason.

“You’ll drop by every now and then, though, right? To say ‘hi’ and see how the rest of us are doing?” the hopeful look in his eyes stood in contrast with the disappointment etched on the face of another poor sucker who tried to play darts against you. When she met you, she didn’t think you were this precise, she saw the muscular physique of a woman she thought spent half her day at the gym. You proved her wrong, as you won a chance to buy her a drink in the same game you were playing now. And you kept proving her wrong, you certainly didn’t spend half of your day at the gym, your job just used to be physically demanding, add in some working out and you eventually gained the muscles you currently had.

“We’ll stay in touch Charlie,” she gave him a friendly wink and got up. You just sat down after running out of opponents willing to play, so, Mabel patted Charlie on the shoulder and moved through the crowd toward you.

“Hey there, stranger,” you grinned when she picked up the darts.

Mabel grinned, though she was turned away from you. It didn’t matter, you knew she was grinning. “Sorry to disappoint you, I’d like a better opponent,” she teased as you joined her.

“Yeah?” she could feel you smirking behind her. “How about we make a bet? I win and you let me buy you a drink?” you suggested, almost mimicking the first time you had this conversation. She found it amusing back then, she still found it amusing.

“Isn’t the loser supposed to buy drinks?” she raised an eyebrow, turning slightly to look at you. The few feet of distance between you felt like miles, and it was another reason she wanted to leave this place behind. So, she would no longer have to pretend she wasn’t with you. So she could grab your hand, or be with you without pretending it was a coincidence. Once she was no longer surrounded by people that were either once or still somewhat connected to drugs, she would be free to be with you the way she wanted to.

“It’s not the drinks I’m interested in,” you let her throw first. “It’s your time that I’m playing for,” there it was, that confident grin, the relaxed posture, the adoration and love in your eyes you failed to conceal. At least you could brush it off as unrequited love and laugh with whoever grew suspicious of your time together.

As expected, you won and got her a drink, and the two of you sat down, close, but not nearly close enough. She still found a few short windows of opportunity to grab onto your hand underneath the table, just to squeeze it and hold it for a few moments, enjoying the warmth before pulling away, resigning to joking touches, light taps or grabbing onto the other’s shoulder while laughing at a silly joke, as the only ways you could touch one another.

“Next week,” she whispered just for you to hear and you nodded, completely understanding, more understanding than she sometimes felt she deserved, but you always reassured her that she deserved it.

“Next week we’ll be sharing a drink at an entirely different bar,” no more playing for her time, no more buying her a drink, no more pretending.

Mabel looked around, still more than capable of noticing if someone was watching her, and when she was certain no one was watching the two of you, she got up, leaned closer and kissed your cheek. “We won’t be seeing each other again, consider that a goodbye,” she said loud enough for anyone secretly watching to hear. Because as far as the people around the two of you were concerned you were also leaving, only tomorrow, and to the other side of the country, for work. No one would know you were still playing the hiding game and that you were actually going ahead of her to avoid suspicion.

“Yeah, goodbye, Mabel,” you grinned as she walked away, knowing full well you just needed to be patient for just a bit longer.

~X~

The new apartment was comfortable, big enough for you and Mabel. You just finished installing window blinds. Mable was going to love them, no more cardboard covering the windows. And then the front doors unlocked, a whole day too soon. You raised an eyebrow and grabbed the screwdriver you were using, you weren’t taking any chances, even if you could throw a punch.

“Surprise!” Mabel yelling made you laugh as you placed the screwdriver on the table and went to greet your girlfriend.

“Please tell me you left your bags in your car,” you said as you walked into the hall and saw her taking her shoes off, luckily without the bags next to her. She looked great, as always, dressed in loose T-shirt and denim shorts and you realized just how much you missed her this past week as you walked over and picked her up, hugging her tightly and lifting her up and she quickly returned the embrace.

Mabel kissed you immediately, her warm, soft lips melting any feeling of loneliness in your heart away. And you kissed her back with just as much passion and longing. “Of course not,” she traced your biceps with the tips of her fingers. “I have to give you a bit of a workout,” you grinned at that. “And then, as soon as I stretch a bit on our new bed, we’re going on a walk, hand in hand, got it?” she gave you another quick kiss.

“Absolutely.”

[fratttymatty]

You've Been Chosen

Nate and Elijah had been inseparable for years. From the day they'd met at the local library, both young, quiet, and awkward in their own ways, to the years that followed when they’d discovered not only a shared love for literature but an even deeper connection — one they hadn't realized they were capable of forming. Their friendship blossomed into something more: quiet kisses in the park, whispered confessions late at night. It was a bond they knew was unbreakable.

They were happy, in love, and understood each other in ways no one else did. Their world was peaceful, and they thought they could weather anything life threw at them — until one summer day when everything changed.

The change began innocuously enough. It started with a strange email, sent from an address they didn't recognize. The subject line simply read: "You’ve been chosen." It was vague, with cryptic language and strange, almost otherworldly promises of a new life — a better one, it said, filled with strength, confidence, and success. Curious, Elijah opened it up.

But there was something… off about it. The email didn’t feel like a scam, not like the usual spam messages they received. It felt personal.

He glanced at Nate, a playful smirk crossing his lips. "Hey, Nate. I think we won the lottery. Want to see what they’re offering us?"

Nate didn’t respond at first, but when Elijah read it aloud, he raised an eyebrow. "That’s… weird. I don’t know. What if it’s some sort of cult or, like, a scam?"

"Nah, man," Elijah laughed. "It’s probably just some marketing gimmick. Let’s see what happens."

Neither of them realized how wrong they were until they found themselves standing together, one week later, in a sleek, modern room at the address provided in the email.

It was a small, almost sterile room with dark metal walls and a single chair in the center. They had entered together, but as soon as the door shut behind them, it locked with a loud click, and the lights began to flicker. Panic surged in both their chests.

Before they could process what was happening, a smooth voice, deep and calm, echoed from the walls.

"You two have been selected for a transformation. Prepare yourselves. The process begins now."

The words were final, and though they both tried to resist, to run, their bodies refused to move as something… shifted.

Nate felt a strange sensation spread through his body. At first, it was subtle—his hands began to tingle, then his arms, his chest, his legs. A rush of heat followed, making him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He looked at Elijah, but the sight of his boyfriend seemed distant, blurry, as though they were being separated by an impenetrable glass wall.

Elijah's breath hitched, his heart racing. He reached for Nate but felt his body contorting against his will. His muscles grew tight, harder, firmer. His once-thin frame began to bulk up with unnatural speed. His face started to change too: his jawline squared, his nose became more pronounced, his lips thinner. His eyes, once full of quiet warmth, now had a piercing, competitive gleam.

Nate could feel his body doing the same. His slender build was replaced by thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. His skin darkened slightly, and his eyes shifted from a soft brown to a sharper blue, the deep love and empathy in them turning into something more detached, more predatory. His facial features became more angular, harder, like a statue chiselled to perfection.

As the transformation progressed, a strange sensation tugged at the roots of Nate’s hair. He reached up instinctively to touch it, his fingers trembling as a sharp, tingling pressure ran through his scalp. It was as if something deep inside his hair follicles was being pulled and restructured.

At first, his hair darkened, shifting from its natural brown to a deep, rich shade of dark brown, almost black under the bright, artificial lights of the room. The soft waves that had once framed his face, so familiar and comforting, were now growing thick and dense, the texture becoming more coarse. His scalp tingled as the strands grew shorter—cutting down to a cropped, tousled style that gave off a carefree, athletic edge. The waves that had once been loose and soft were now effortlessly styled, falling into place as though the perfect amount of tousled mess was intentionally crafted.

The hair wasn’t just shorter—it was sharper. His bangs, which had once softly brushed against his forehead, now lifted in an effortlessly messy yet purposeful way, as if styled by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The way it framed his face accentuated the new, strong lines of his jaw, his angular cheekbones, and his newly defined, masculine features.

Nate—no, Jason—ran a hand through it, feeling the textured strands shift beneath his fingers, and he couldn't help but admire the way it looked. His hair now had volume, thick and strong, and he could tell that it would always look perfect—effortlessly sexy and rugged, the kind of hair that turned heads without even trying.

Beside him, Elijah’s transformation was no less intense. Elijah had always worn his hair curly, an unruly mass of dark tendrils that framed his face in a way that spoke of gentle chaos. But now, as the change took over him, his curls unraveled, twisting and straightening until they, too, darkened to a similar shade of deep brown. The once-wild curls became more controlled, shorter, but the same tousled, perfectly disheveled look that Jason’s hair now sported fell into place on Elijah’s head.

His hair was thick, but now it had that same rugged charm—messy, but in a way that suggested it had been styled by the hands of someone who knew how to pull off that effortless, “I woke up like this” look. The hair still had volume, but it was shorter and more structured, the kind of style that fit perfectly with his broad new shoulders and athletic frame. His hair seemed to have been designed to match his new, muscular persona: bold, attractive, and undeniably masculine.

As Jason and Tyler—formerly Nate and Elijah—stood together, they both reached up to feel their hair, marveling at the way it framed their faces now. It was so different from before—so right. The tousled texture suited them in ways they hadn’t even known they needed.

Jason ran his fingers through his dark, tousled locks, feeling the confidence surge within him again, that new, sharp, athletic swagger filling him as the weight of the transformation settled deeper within. He met Tyler’s gaze, his eyes full of an intense, competitive fire.

“Dude,” Jason said, grinning, “we look good.”

Tyler smiled back, his own tousled dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he shook his head. “We look unstoppable,” he said.

And with that, the two of them—no longer Nate and Elijah—stepped out into their new lives, their hair styled to perfection, their bodies transformed into something strong, athletic, and undeniably right for their new roles. The world felt like it was theirs for the taking.

The transformation wasn’t just physical. Their minds began to change too. Memories of books and poetry — the things that had once meant so much to them — began to fade away, replaced by thoughts of weights, gym routines, and the thrill of competition. They felt a strange sense of pride surge within them as their new identities took root.

For the first time in their lives, both Elijah and Nate felt strong, undeniably powerful. But it was an overwhelming, alien feeling. It felt right in ways they couldn’t explain, and the weight of it nearly crushed them as their old selves—soft, introspective, sensitive—began to feel like a distant dream.

The voice spoke again, like a final verdict.

"You are no longer who you were. You are now Jason and Tyler — young, athletic, confident men. Your previous lives no longer matter. You are made for greatness. You will no longer seek love in the way you once did. The bonds you had are severed."

Jason—Nate, now no longer holding onto his past—felt a surge of pride. He looked at Tyler—Elijah—and for the first time in what felt like forever, the attraction was... different. His mind registered his boyfriend, but there was something else. Something about the new version of Tyler made him feel... competitive. Desirable in a different way. He wasn’t sure how to reconcile it. He just knew it felt right. The confusion was buried beneath layers of muscle, of physicality, of instinct.

Tyler—Elijah—didn’t resist either. He looked at Jason, his new, broad chest puffing out as a rush of dopamine flooded his mind. He smiled, feeling the weight of his new body and the confidence that came with it. This new life, as a jock, a bro, was exhilarating.

The door opened, and they were led out, no longer the quiet, tender souls they had been, but two young men with a new sense of purpose. Their old relationship—soft, tender, intellectual—was gone. Their bond now, their connection, was forged in shared strength, in the thrill of physical dominance, in the unspoken power that surged through their veins.

Jason, with his broad, muscular shoulders and chiseled abs, nudged Tyler with a grin. “Yo, let’s hit the gym. We’ve got work to do.”

Tyler, now as tall and athletic as Jason, returned the smile. “Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

They were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they didn’t want to go back. In this new life, they were strong. They were perfect. And for the first time, they felt like they had found where they truly belonged.

As they walked into the bright sunlight, muscles flexing beneath their tight gym shirts, they couldn’t help but laugh. It felt so good. So right.

The past was forgotten.

And their future—together—was unstoppable.

As Jason and Tyler left the strange, metallic room, the world outside seemed brighter, louder, and somehow better. Their bodies felt different—stronger, more confident. And something deep within their minds had shifted too. The connection they once shared, tender and intimate, now felt distant. The quiet bond of their past lives seemed like a distant memory. They weren’t the same people anymore.

It was hard to explain, but as the minutes passed, it became clearer: they weren’t just different in appearance. They were changed, in the deepest parts of them. The world around them—once a place full of quiet contemplation and hidden desires—was now something else. Something simple. Something new. They felt a surge of straight masculinity rushing through them, their minds rewiring to focus on new things: sports, strength, competition. And, of course, women.

Jason turned to Tyler, his voice suddenly rough and confident. "Dude, we gotta hit the gym. Get those gains. We can totally crush it at the football tryouts next week."

Tyler, standing tall beside him with that signature, broad-chested swagger, grinned. "Totes, man. I’m ready to dominate. The ladies are gonna be all over us."

For the first time, Jason felt the thrill of wanting women in the way Tyler spoke of. He wasn’t looking at Tyler the same way anymore. He was looking at him as a bro, someone to team up with. That old, deep feeling of love for each other had been buried beneath this new, primal sense of camaraderie.

And sure enough, not long after, their transformation was complete in every way. The world they walked into was different, and it embraced them. They both began to notice the women around them, their new bodies and newfound swagger immediately attracting attention. In their minds, they were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they were ready to conquer everything—starting with the opposite sex.

It didn't take long before they met the two girls who would change their lives: Hailey and Kelsey.

They were everything Jason and Tyler had never noticed before. Blonde, bubbly, and a little bit ditzy, they wore skintight leggings and crop tops that barely covered their chests, their eyes bright with naive excitement. Hailey, with her long, bleached blonde hair and impossibly tan skin, smiled at Jason and Tyler like they were her ticket to something new and exciting.

"Oh my God, you guys are, like, so cute," Hailey said, flipping her hair dramatically as she approached them, her voice thick with that slightly high-pitched, breathy tone that spoke of a lack of concern for anything outside her immediate world. She blinked a few times, taking in their chiseled, athletic builds, and giggled. "Totes, like, you guys look like such jocks. Are you into, like, football or something? My ex totally played football."

Jason, now fully embracing his new identity, grinned at her, his mind instantly shifting into alpha male mode. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and gave her a once-over, appreciating the way her curves filled out the tight, pink tank top she wore. "Yeah, babe. Football’s our thing. We're on the varsity team," he said with a cocky smirk, leaning back slightly to show off his chest.

Kelsey, standing next to Hailey, took one look at Tyler and squealed, practically bouncing up and down. "Oh my God, you’re like, so hot!" she gushed, her wide blue eyes scanning him with clear admiration. "I just love a guy with abs, y'know?" She laughed, looking a little too excited for Jason’s taste but in a way that was undeniably flattering. "Like, you're, like, totally the type of guy I could, like, see myself with! Do you, like, work out a lot or whatever?"

Tyler couldn’t help but smirk, flexing his arm slightly, his muscles popping in his tight gym shirt. He hadn’t worked out this much in his life, but he could see that it was paying off. "Oh, you know," he said with an air of casual arrogance, his deep voice now a clear reflection of his transformation. "I’m at the gym, like, every day. Gotta keep the body tight for the ladies."

Hailey giggled at that, nodding enthusiastically. "Omg, yes, totes! I love when guys are, like, super fit and stuff. It’s, like, so hot." She tilted her head and pouted, giving Jason a flirty smile. "Do you, like, want to go out sometime? You know, like, maybe grab a smoothie or whatever?"

Jason felt the surge of masculinity flow through him, the confidence making him feel unstoppable. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah, sounds good," he said casually, already picturing the kind of date they would have—a simple, straight-forward affair with Hailey, where his new identity would be put to the test.

As the four of them stood there, chatting about workouts and the latest school gossip, the feeling of the old Nate and Elijah—their quiet, intellectual selves—seemed more and more like a distant, meaningless memory. They couldn’t even remember the last time they'd shared a moment of vulnerability or tenderness. In fact, the more they spoke to Hailey and Kelsey, the more they realized how little they missed that past life.

Their conversations now revolved around flexing muscles, sharing workout tips, and planning group outings. Hailey would giggle and run her fingers through her hair, occasionally tossing out phrases like, "Oh my God, like, totes!" while Kelsey would swoon over Tyler's abs, telling him how she "just loved a guy who could throw a football."

Jason, now fully in sync with his new identity, couldn’t help but laugh at how different everything felt. It wasn’t that he missed who he was before—it was that he didn’t even want to be Nate anymore. He wasn’t looking for poetry or deep conversation anymore. He was looking for the next adrenaline rush, the next win on the field, the next perfect girl to date.

And with Hailey, and with Kelsey, the world felt right. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders confidently, pulling her closer, feeling the perfect balance of masculinity and attraction.

Tyler did the same with Kelsey, his grin wide, his posture a perfect reflection of a new life.

"We’re gonna crush it this season, bro," Jason said to Tyler, his voice now heavy with the satisfaction of their transformation.

"Yeah, man," Tyler agreed, his voice thick with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. "With these girls by our side, nothing can stop us."

In this new life, as Jason and Tyler walked away with Hailey and Kelsey, the past seemed like nothing more than a fading dream. The transformation was complete. There was no room for doubts, no room for second thoughts. They were jocks now, strong, straight, and fully entrenched in the world they had been designed for.

And as they left behind the old versions of themselves, they couldn’t help but think, with a satisfied smile: This is it. This is who we’re meant to be.