#I think I need to just get over it and post one and then I’ll have kickstarted my brain again maybe lmao

[bekolxeram]

Everyone decides to be sad about Tommy spending the holidays alone today. I just want to say, I hate you all. Especially @mmso-notlikethat with this post. As payback for making me cry my way into insomnia, I wrote this on my phone instead of sleeping.

By the time he knocks on the door, Tommy still has no idea what to expect. “Wear something nice, we’re celebrating tonight,” that’s the only instruction he’s received from Evan, his boyfriend once again. Tommy can’t help but smile at the mere thought of finally allowing himself to say that name.

He has a burgundy dress shirt on with a pair of light grey slim fit pants. Simple, but elegant, hopefully properly dressed for this undisclosed commemoration. March is not known for its holidays, so what’s the occasion that calls for such festivity? They did meet last March at the cruise ship rescue, maybe that was it? Or perhaps Evan is having some sort of career advancement? They’ve been back together for just a few weeks, there’s simply not enough time for Tommy to catch up on Evan’s ever so eventful life. To that, Tommy silently mourn the time they’ve lost, due to his own cowardice.

“Hey — Hey,” Evan takes a step outside of the door to greet Tommy with a quick peck on the lips. Tommy lets the younger man drag him into the loft without much reaction, because he’s still confused by the sight in front of him: Evan in his usual navy blue button up, dark jeans and… a Christmas hat?

Inside the loft is a jumble of sparkly festive decorations. To his left, he sees “Happy Birthday Tommy”; to his right, “Merry Christmas”; and deeper into the living space, “Happy New Year”.

“Jee and Mara helped setting these up,” Evan says while taking half of a roast turkey out of the oven. “This one is from Bobby. He said half a bird is enough for the two of us, if we don’t want to suffer through leftover for the next 7 days.” He then sets the tray next to some roasted vegetables and a casserole. “The casserole is from Chimney, but I’m pretty sure it’s Maddie’s recipe. Hen got you a cake. I think she said something about being sure you would like it. We can have it for dessert. Oh, and the champagne is from…”

“Eddie, because he can’t cook.” Tommy cuts in.

“Exactly!”

“Evan, what’s going on here?”

Evan steps closer, taking both of Tommy’s hands into his own, “You told me the other day that you spent your 40th birthday alone… I only realized later that you were probably on your own for the entire holiday season, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s Day. I know it doesn’t come close to the real thing, but I was thinking maybe we could make up for a few key moments that we missed.” He dims the lights in the loft with a remote control and fiddles with something on the dining table. Suddenly, the whole room is lit up with colorful patterns and twinkling stars. “I couldn’t get any firework around here, so I borrowed this star projector from Christopher.”

“Oh… Evan,” Tommy sighs, eyes already hazy with tears.

“I’m not asking you to move in with me or to make major commitments. I’m not asking for anything in return at all. This is… a promise, from me to you. No matter what happens, what becomes of us in the future, I’ll be there when you need me, we all will.”

Evan says earnestly, with utmost conviction in his tone. The clarity in his eyes reminds Tommy of that day at the café terrace, almost a year ago. “I just want you to know, Tommy, you’re no longer alone.”

A few drops of tears escape Tommy’s eyes, but before he can respond, Evan pulls out a mistletoe from his pocket and dangles it over their heads.

“You have to kiss me now.” Evan says with a cheeky grin. Tommy waits no time to capture those smiling lips with his own, kissing him with all the love and gratitude in his heart.

“I love you, Evan. I’m so lucky to have you.” Tommy pulls him into a warm embrace.

“I love you too.” Now it’s Evan’s turn to tear up.

Tommy pulls back a little and asks, “hey, would you mind if we celebrate Valentine’s Day first?”

“Oh, you mean you’re interested in the Valentine’s Night activity?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you.”

[fairiesthrum]

ummmmmm excuse me, my dearest fae, you can’t just say this and then not expand???

bounty hunter satoru?? do you think he has a dirty little space ship that desperately needs maintenance and he constantly brings back aliens from trips just so he can play around with them, exploring their bodies till they’re trembling and whining…………………………………

🎀 — humblest apologies for not explaining myself further alba 😓 (incoming yap session)

imagine in a galaxy far, far away, there’s a place where aliens and humans co-exist. now, about most of the population of aliens appear pretty humanoid, just very colorful skin and hair (pink, purple, green, blue, etc.)

the setting is very much like that of guardians of the galaxy, and gojo satoru is the most notorious bounty hunter there is. i imagine him (i’ll try to post a drawing soon) with a lot of cyber tech. his whole outfit would be black and he uses two guns, one with blue led lights and the other red (trying to get y’all to envision.) he’d also have his signature blindfold but instead, it comes in the form of cyber tech mask glasses that can dematerialize by pressing a button on the side (kinda like peter quill’s.)

he rarely ever misses when he shoots and he always catches the perps (nah, i’d win space edition.) and satoru is very serious abt his job (ik shocking but he’s gotta make that bag somehow and being a bounty hunter pays really well.) he’s very confident to say that nothing is able to distract or deter him from getting it done. but unfortunately for him, he has only one weakness. and that was alien girl puthayy 😛

see, the problem was, aliens and humans can not reproduce with one another. it wasn’t impossible, it was just against the rules. and by that definition, it also meant that it was illegal to have sex with one another. but let’s be fr, it’s going to happen whether it’s outlawed or not.

the first time satoru’s fucked an alien woman, it was at a strip club. as a man, he was curious to what it’d feel like to fuck one. and unfortunately for him, it was the best he’s ever had. it was his guilty pleasure, the one thing no-one could know about or else, it’d risk his job. but it was just too good. and where he used to jerk his cock off to human girls on his ship, now he does it thinking about alien girls. it always has him coming fast, and sometimes, just the thought can have him busting a nut in his pants, completely untouched.

he’s never had mind-blowing sex like that before in his life. the man is already a sex fanatic and craves it all the time (it helps him blow off steam), but he can’t cum when fucking regular human women anymore ;( it’s cause aliens were far more sensitive than humans, their senses advanced with the ability to feel more. and there was no feeling on earth (pun intended) like rutting into a warm cunt that was eager to suck him in, strangling his cock cuz some alien chick was horny out of her mind, pussy practically drooling all over him.

it’d have to be a secret though. and luckily for satoru, no one suspects someone like him, who’s job was to hunt down rogue aliens, to love sloppy extraterrestrial pussy.

satoru’s ship is made from the same advanced tech as his suit. it gets dirty from his constant partying and hook-ups. so, when he needs to get it checked cuz some huge beefy alien dude breaks his console during one of his ragers, he doesn’t bring it to the usual repair shop everyone goes to for their space ships. oh no no, he goes to one run by the other species.

there were a lot of hot ladies working there (because sexism doesn’t exist amongst aliens like at least they doing sumn right unlike us 😒) so, a lot of the times, his ship doesn’t end up fixed at the end.

he… likes to stay and watch them with dark, hooded eyes as they prance around his ship, eager to do their job. every once in a while, he’ll put a hand on their hip, letting it linger just long enough before pulling away when he comes over to “check on the progress.” the touch isn’t uninvited, he knows from the sultry gazes and flirty touches that are given in turn that they’re very much into him too.

it’s not long before he has them bent over the console, thrusting into the warm gooeyness of their sticky hole as they mewl and whine for more of his fat cock while he pinches their sensitive nipples ‘till they squirm.

they’re loud, and he loves it. it feeds his ego to know how hungry they are for him, for his cock. aliens were known for multiplying by the dozen, he assumes it has something to do with that. satoru’s thought about it before, breeding an alien. it was just a fantasy though, a fantasy that has him spilling his cum inside them on the spot, their needy whimpers begging him to.

that was his routine, catching criminals and fucking alien girl pussy on the side. and when his next mission entails finding some lady who stole some priceless piece of tech that could’ve sold for a lot, he was on board to find you right away (and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were smoking hot.)

it was easy for him to track you, he was the best at this job after all. you try to flee but he manhandles you against the wall, trapping you with your wrists pinned behind you, his chest up against your back. his warm breath hits your neck, panting from chasing you down. satoru’s eyes are dilated, but you’re unable to see with your cheek pressed against the cool metal in front of you.

this wasn’t what you had expected, you were caught so easily! it was a bad idea from the start, but it was either take a leap of faith and end up rich or be broke forever.

the pleas instantly leave your lips, begging to be let go. you didn’t want to go to prison. you were young and had so much to live for! (the two cents in your back pocket 😓) satoru listened, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement and poorly concealed arousal as you went on, swearing how you’d never do it again, that he could take back what you stole and forget it ever happened. he contemplated for a moment, choosing his cards carefully, before he’s leaning in next to your ear to whisper, “no can do, sweetheart.”

you shiver, and the atmosphere seems to change around you suddenly at the shift in his tone. a feeling you were all too familiar with stirs in your stomach, your body simply a slave to pleasure (curse your biology!) and the way he had spoken to you just then had you wet in a matter of seconds.

you try to compromise, “i’ll do anything!” it flies out of your mouth before you can even think. and he smirks, like he had been waiting for that the entire time.

“anything?”

and that’s how you end up getting railed by the human man who was sent to capture you.

“‘s so fucking good— fuck!”, he’s slurring by your ear, like he was getting drunk off of pounding into you. the thrusts were desperate, as if he could never get enough of your insides. satoru could stay like this forever, watching his cock slide in and out, stretching you open with his girth. he clings onto you like he never wants to let go, your wrists free and resting on the metal in front of you, the warm puffs of your breath condensing on the cold alloy. strong pale arms covered in high-tech were wrapped tightly around your waist while his hips thrust into you with a hungered fervor.

the tip of his mushroom head hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and absolutely gushing around him. he gives you a low groan of approval when you clench, “jus’ like that pretty, jus’ like that—”

then he lets you go after blowing a load inside you, leaving you with shaky legs and a throbbing for more. and you totally don’t start thieving more often just so he can come find you and do it all over again.

anyways, that is all i have for space bounty hunter gojo lol ₓₓ

[ofgoldandbraid]

my favourite distraction

lilia x reader

(here’s an amazing patti photo)

an / this is the first thing i’ve written in english and posted, please bear with me! sorry if it’s terrible :(

notes: absolute filth; oral (r receiving); biting; teasing; lilia being the most amazing person ever

a loud sigh from the corner of your kitchen interrupted your focus.

« lilia, what do you want? » you looked over your shoulder and shouted in her direction.

« oh, nothing, » she says, blowing the damp curls on her face out of the way with a huff.

behind you, lilia calderu was grinning to herself. her plans for you tonight were grand.

« cut the shit, what’s up? » you turn to give her your full attention, only to see her smirk at you.

« honey, i’m feeling a little lonely, » lilia pouted, walking closer to you and giving you those eyes.

you turned back to the book on the counter, still stuck in the same line you were reading when you were interrupted.

« i’m right here, » you replied flatly. lilia huffed again. you could practically feel her roll her eyes. «  and i’m busy. »

you feel a hand on the back of your neck, pulling your hair up and off of it.

« alright, » she whispered against your neck. « i’ll just die over here waiting for you to let me give you some attention. »

you sighed dramatically, walking away and dropping onto the couch as you screamed into one of the handmade throw pillows.

« aw, what’s the matter, honey? » she laughed, following you into the sitting room. « what’s got you so… worked up? »

« lilia, » you whined, drawing out the last syllable. « i didn’t see your pretty neck until you put your hair up. »

lilia walked over to you, lacing her fingers through your hair and lightly tugging.

the moan that escaped you was humiliating.

« oh, love. you’re all mine, you know it? » she murmured, her lips getting closer and closer to your face.

« you suck, » you murmured against her.

« what the hell do you mean? » lilia questioned, cocking an eyebrow as she tightened her grip on your hair.

you leaned closer to her, wanting more.

« you, mhm, » you moaned as she tugged once more. « you keep fucking teasing me. »

she lowered herself on the couch next to you and placed her free hand dangerously close to your inner thigh.

« honey, i don’t have to follow your rules. i can do whatever i want to you. » she kissed you hard, tongue on yours, teeth into your lips.

she pulled back and shoved your roaming hands off of her breasts.

« and i know you’ll love it. you’re so easy, angel. »

she moved her mouth down, licking and sucking your skin until she reached your collarbone.

« may i? » lilia asked, moving her hand from your thigh to mess with the low neckline of your shirt.

« please, » you moan, shoving yourself towards her in a desperate attempt to relieve even the smallest bit of tension.

she laughed lowly, slowly moving her hand you your throat as she lowered herself and bit down on the exposed top of your breast.

« fuck, lilia, » you croak.

she looks up at you, grinning as she removes her mouth. you groan.

« did i hurt you, my love? » she asked, holding your cheek.

 « no, but you are now. please, i need you. » you bucked your hips involuntarily, an act that made lilia pout mockingly.

« is my angel desperate? does my darling want something from me? » she looked at you with a smile across her face as she lowered back down to your chest.

« yes, » the strangled noise left your mouth right as she ripped the shirt off of your torso.

« y/n, what did you say you wanted to do to my neck? » she finished her sentence with a low grunt as you shoved your thigh between both of hers.

« i didn’t say it, » you said as lilia moved herself impossibly close, straddling you. « but all i could think about was marking you. showing everyone how much i love you. biting you all over your neck and hips and thighs. »

she ground into you, moaning into your breasts.

« i thought i was the needy one, » you playfully poked her on the nose.

« shut up, » she said as she repositioned herself over you.

suddenly, you were cold. when you looked down at yourself, your clothes were gone.

shivering, you reached up to her and held her face.

« you’re so beautiful, » lilia whispered as she trailed her hands down to rest them on your breasts.

she ran her thumbs over your nipples, laughing to herself as you writhed underneath her.

« okay, okay. i’ll stop teasing you, honey, » she laughed against you as she slid off you and lowered between your legs.

she grabbed your thighs and held them apart, looking at your dripping sex as her pupils blew.

« all this and i’ve hardly touched you, » lilia said against you, her breath cooling your heat down.

« stop it, » you moaned as she blew on your pussy. « you bit my tit, how could i not be dying for you? »

she smirked at you as she swiped through your wetness with her index and middle fingers.

« fuck, lilia, » you whimpered, holding her head with your hands tangled in her hair.

« i know, baby, i know, » she murmured against you, impossibly close to your cunt. « suck, » lilia ordered, shoving her fingers into your mouth.

you obliged, licking her fingers clean of your arousal.

« you’re such a good girl for me, » she said, leaning forward and licking a long stripe up you.

you threw your head back into a loud moan, finally getting what you desired the most.

but just as quickly as you felt that relief, it was taken away. lilia pulled back, instead giving her attention to your inner thighs. she bit down, the sting causing tears to prick your eyes.

« is this okay? » she questioned, running her hands from your hips to knees, then back up again.

you groan at her, furious that she’d stop the moment she started.

lilia’s hands pulled your knees over her shoulders as she got closer to you again.

her licks were deep and firm, and you shook at the intensity of her that you had never seem to have experienced before.

quickly, you began to feel a tightness, a heat in you. your thighs tensed around lilia’s head.

« you wanna suffocate me, baby? » she said between the strong strokes of her tongue and the little kisses on your inner thighs.

you pushed her head back into you, impossibly close, muttering incomplete thoughts under your breath and soon babbling as she increased the speed of her flat licks and sucks.

you held her head between your thighs, ready to come, but she slowed to a near stop.

« lilia? » you whispered, tears threatening to roll down your face at the pain of your stolen orgasm.

she exhaled onto you and moved to the curve of your neck.

her vagary shocked you, frustrated you, and terrified you. had you done something wrong?

« honey, your thoughts are loud, » she emphasized her sentence with a nip to your jaw.

you squeezed your eyes shut, unbearably needy.

lilia put her hands to the side of your face, pushing them up to tangle them in your hair, her thumbs stroking under your eyes as she caught the escaped tears.

« oh, you’re shaking. momma left you all desperate, » she stuck out her bottom lip as your eyes shot wide open at her sentence.

your squirming grew more intense and lilia laughed at you.

« okay, okay, » she sighed into your collarbone as she brought her hands from your head to your sensitive breasts again.

« please, » you choked, tears stinging your flushed face.

she quickly returned to her former position between your twitching legs, and without warning, resumed her hard and fast paced licks.

like a switch, you felt closer than you’d ever felt before, teetering on the edge.

suddenly, she moaned into you, and with a strong vibration on your swollen clit, you came. lilia stared into your eyes as you shook and held her in place, soaking her face.

she licked you through your orgasm, and when you finally slowed your shaking, she grabbed your hands.

« you’re so good for me, aren’t you? » she sat her chin in your thigh, smiling at you as she ran her nails across your palm.

you managed to release a strangled « mm ».

lilia stood up and sat next to you, wrapping her arms around your cold frame and stroking your hair again.

« we should do this more often, » she mused before she bit into your bare shoulder. « here we go again…»

[superm4ks]

https://www.tumblr.com/maxarchive/767895471901507584?source=share

We've been knew but also I neeeed ur honest reaction lmao

Full post by the goat @rb19 @maxarchive here

BBC always insufferable but this just ridiculous. Asking an F1 driver if he wud naturally give somebody room in a corner exit might be most depressing shit I have ever had to read wid my own 2 eyes. Nvm that he's asking Max Verstappen of all people ... ‘racing another driver' by letting them complete an overtake just because they feel entitled to get to the front is literally antithetical to the whole concept of motor racing 😐 Its antithetical to 'competition' period .. Competition isnt fair, isnt deserved, isnt victimless. If it were, it wud not be ‘competition’, it wud be a game for children. Max was never treated like a child competing against adults and now 9 years later he’s getting grilled on what makes him such an aggressive competitor. I wrote a lil bit on dirty vs clean driving that I think sums up p well why Max will always get these kind of questions and others don’t.

The wdc exists to ensure that the human element remains the center piece of a motorized competition. Without the drivers championship, we wud grade these bitches on one lap pace and long run simulations and call it a day because a machine is easy to evaluate, a drivers handling of said machine over the course of 24 races is a much more interesting and compelling story. 'why wud u as an driver choose to utilize the full width of the track and not just roll out the red carpet for the pookie behind u 🥺' shud honestly get u sh0t as a journalist and I mean it.

If u give the full thing a read ((for @rb19)) Max is quick to mention how he cud tell even back in diapers karts which drivers were like him, and which drivers were more .. passive around the outside. He calls it a 'driver-related' thing. Some allow it, some dont. The ones who dont, who wud push him off track or pressure him into locking up, Max describes as having a lil more of a 'racing instinct'. What he leaves unsaid is that what separates these ‘passive drivers’ from the 1s ‘wid instinct’ is that this instinct is exactly what makes it impossible for him to just allow a driver to overtake him around the outside without putting up a fight to defend his position. It’s built into him. It’s how he races. And believe it or not.. and I’ll hold T Kravitz’ sweaty fucking hand when I say this, that’s completely fine. It’s fine to go racing wid a negative delta and not just roll over and let sweet Lando complete a single overtake. It’s fine to use the car and flirt wid guidelines if it keeps the point deficit as small as possible. It’s fine to fight for position in the. cars fight for position sport. It’s ok. I promise.

And lemme add 1 last thing. What people berate and insult and reprimand Max for now is the same shit they were checking off a list titled ‘future F1 champion’ when he was 13 years old. They knew, like Lauda knew, that to be as fast, as strong, as talented, quick in slow and fast corners, assertive, fearless, you need to be deliberate wid ur car as few in the history of the sport have been. U need to be so deliberate and confident in ur wheel that when someone asks u if u wud consider letting someone overtake u around the outside because 🥺 that’s so UNFAIR that u wud not let a car overtake u in the car racing competition 🥺 u can very calmly say ‘no lol’ instead of snapping ur fingers and unleashing Helmut Mario from a hidden hatch on the ceiling

[rafeskai]

Starstruck | Drew Starkey

Chapter One

Summary: In the bustling crowd of a premiere event for Outer Banks, you find yourself caught up in a chaotic moment, lost in the sea of fans. Desperate for a way out, you stumble into an alley where fate leads you to an unexpected—and painful—encounter with Drew Starkey. What starts as a simple misstep soon spirals into something far more complicated, and your life takes an unexpected turn.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: This will be another short fic!!

The city of Los Angeles had always seemed like a dream—one that was just out of reach, filled with palm trees, bright lights, and endless possibilities. You’d seen it in the movies, heard the stories, and scrolled through enough Instagram posts to feel like you knew the place by heart. But none of that had prepared you for the reality of it all—the hum of the traffic, the overwhelming buzz of constant movement, and the sheer size of everything.

It was your first trip to LA, and you had planned to move there. To experience a new beginning, a contrast from your life back in a small town in South Carolina. Your cousin, Ava had begged you to move in with her. She moved out here a few months ago to follow her dreams, chasing her career in fashion and the hustle of the city. And as much as you’d heard about her exciting life, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous. She was always the one to take the leap, to dive headfirst into new opportunities while you watched from the sidelines.

You stood at the gate of LAX, your suitcase rolling behind you, looking around at the sea of strangers and travelers. It felt like the city itself had swallowed you up already, even though you were still waiting for Ava to come pick you up. The air smelled like a mix of saltwater, car exhaust, and faint hints of perfume. Everything seemed bigger, louder, and brighter than anything you were used to.

Ava had promised to take you to some cool places—maybe even a celebrity sighting or two, if you were lucky. She’d been raving about how “amazing” LA was, how everyone was so “laid-back” but also so “serious about making things happen.” You weren’t sure what that meant exactly, but you were excited to see what her new life was all about.

Finally, your phone buzzed with a text. It was Ava.

Ava: “I’m here, babe! I’ll be by in a sec. Get ready for an adventure!”

You smiled to yourself, tucking your phone back in your pocket. Your cousin always had a way of making everything sound like it was going to be epic.

As you stepped outside the airport, you saw Ava leaning against her car, a mischievous grin on her face and sunglasses perched atop her head. She waved you over enthusiastically, her curly hair bouncing as she jumped up and down.

“There you are!” she said, pulling you into a hug. “Welcome to LA, sweetheart!”

You hugged her back, letting out a small laugh at her over-the-top enthusiasm. Despite the chaos around you, her energy was contagious. It was exactly what you needed to start your adventure in this strange, exciting city. And maybe, just maybe, you’d find yourself falling for LA the way everyone else did.

Ava tossed your suitcase into the trunk and hopped into the driver’s seat, motioning for you to get in. “Alright,” she said, turning the key in the ignition. “Let’s show you what this place is really about.”

As you slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, the city sprawled out in front of you. The buildings, the people, the cars—everything was moving so fast. You couldn’t help but feel like you were on the brink of something big. This trip was going to be more than just a visit; it was going to be an experience that might change everything.

Ava shot you a grin as she pulled onto the highway. “Ready for your first adventure in LA?”

You took a deep breath, a nervous excitement bubbling up inside of you. “I think so.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ride to Ava’s apartment was a whirlwind of sights and sounds. Palm trees lined the streets, swaying lazily in the breeze, their silhouettes framed against the setting sun. The cars zipped by, each one seemingly flashier than the last, and the billboards advertised everything from the latest blockbuster films to obscure yoga studios. Ava, ever the LA native-in-the-making, narrated the trip like a tour guide, pointing out landmarks and offering unsolicited advice.

“That’s Runyon Canyon,” she said, gesturing to a hill dotted with hikers. “Great for photos, but only go early in the morning. Otherwise, it’s hotter than hell.”

You nodded, your eyes wide as you took everything in. “Noted.”

“Oh, and you’ll definitely need to get used to traffic. Like, it’s not if you’ll sit in it—it’s how many hours of your life you’ll lose to it.”

The apartment complex Ava lived in was nestled in a lively neighborhood just outside of downtown. It wasn’t the most glamorous building, but it had charm, with colorful murals painted along the walls and a small courtyard with string lights hanging from the trees. As you stepped inside, dragging your suitcase behind you, Ava gave you a grand tour of her one-bedroom unit, which she’d converted into a makeshift two-bedroom by sectioning off the living room with a curtain.

“Sorry it’s not huge,” she said, flopping onto her bed as you set your suitcase down near the futon that would serve as your new sleeping spot. “But the location is killer, and it’s LA—no one actually hangs out in their apartment. We’ll be too busy living it up.”

You laughed, appreciating her enthusiasm even if you weren’t entirely sure you’d adjust to this new pace. The space itself was cozy, with mismatched furniture, a tiny kitchen, and windows that let in just enough light to make it feel inviting. Ava’s personality was everywhere—her collection of vintage magazines, her mood board filled with fabric swatches and fashion sketches, and an eclectic mix of candles and trinkets scattered on every surface.

That night, you spent hours unpacking while Ava filled you in on her plans for your first week. From trendy coffee shops to a thrift store crawl, she had your itinerary packed. But what caught your attention most was her excitement over the Outer Banks premiere.

“You have to come with me tonight,” she said, flopping onto your futon dramatically. “It’s going to be amazing. Red carpet, celebrities, the works.”

You hesitated, folding a sweater and setting it aside. “I don’t know, Ava. I just got here. Don’t you think I need a little time to settle in?”

She shook her head emphatically. “Nope. The best way to settle in is to jump in headfirst. Trust me, babe. You’ll love it. Plus, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone famous.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, but her grin was infectious. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a little intrigued. The idea of attending a real Hollywood event was daunting, but also undeniably exciting. This was LA, after all—the city of endless possibilities.

“Okay,” you said finally, earning a squeal of delight from Ava. “But you owe me coffee for a week if this goes horribly wrong.”

“Deal,” she said, leaping to her feet. “Now, let’s find you something fabulous to wear.”

As Ava rummaged through her closet, tossing dresses and accessories your way, you couldn’t help but smile. Moving to LA was already proving to be as overwhelming as you’d feared, but with Ava by your side, you were starting to believe that maybe you could handle it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You’d never been one for crowds, but when Ava forced convinced you to go the Outer Banks premiere in LA, you couldn’t turn it down. You weren’t a huge fan of the show, but you’d heard enough buzz to know it was a big deal. Plus, Ava had a knack for dragging you into her wild adventures, and when she’d said "Hollywood glamour," you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement.

The red carpet was everything you imagined and more. Flashbulbs from cameras stung your eyes as celebrities in perfectly tailored suits and dresses posed for photos. You tried to focus on the stars walking by, but it felt like the entire city was crammed into this one street, and the noise—oh, the noise—was almost too much to bear. Ava had already spotted a few friends and pulled you along, her chatter almost drowned out by the sound of hundreds of voices and music blaring from speakers.

"I need to get a selfie with Drew Starkey!" Ava shouted over the noise, practically bouncing on her feet.

You blinked. Drew Starkey? The guy who played Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks?

"Wait, wait, wait," you protested, pulling back on her arm. "I’m not ready for that—"

But she was already off, threading her way through the crowd, her phone in hand, her eyes focused on the star she was aiming for. You sighed and tried to follow, but the crowd was thickening, and before you knew it, you were separated from Ava.

You glanced around, feeling your pulse quicken as the realization hit—you were lost. People were pushing past you, and the overwhelming mass of bodies made it hard to even catch your breath. Frantically, you glanced around for some way to escape the chaos, a backdoor, a quiet corner—anything.

That’s when you spotted a narrow alleyway just off the red carpet, tucked behind a line of sleek black cars. It was quiet. It was a chance to breathe.

You weaved through the crowd, trying to stay unnoticed, hoping to find an escape route or at least somewhere to collect yourself. But as you stepped into the alley, you felt a bit of relief—until a loud bang echoed from behind you.

Before you could react, the door to a building swung open, and you stumbled backward as the metal edge caught you square in the face.

The world tilted sideways.

Everything went black for a moment, and you stumbled backward into the wall of the alley, your hands instinctively reaching up to touch your face, feeling a sharp pain shoot across your forehead. What the hell just happened?

A voice—gruff and slightly panicked—came from the direction of the door. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”

You groaned, blinking your eyes open, your vision swimming. Standing in front of you, looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, was none other than Drew Starkey himself.

You didn’t recognize him at first. Your head was swimming, and your pulse was racing. But then his face registered, and you froze. Drew Starkey?

“I didn’t see you there,” he said, reaching out as if to help you, but then pulling back as though unsure. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean to… hit you. I’m really sorry.”

You couldn’t find words right away. Your vision swam, and you felt lightheaded, your hand instinctively rising to your forehead to feel the throbbing pain.

“Do you need help? I can get someone…” His voice trailed off, a soft edge of concern in it now. “Please say you’re okay.”

Somehow, you found your voice, though it came out more like a pained whisper. “I think... I think I’m okay. Just... I need a second.”

His eyes were full of worry, but he took a step back, glancing around as if searching for someone to help. The alley was dimly lit, and you weren’t sure if anyone had even noticed the accident with how chaotic the premiere still was just beyond the alley.

“Look, um, I don’t know how to make this better. But can I help you?” Drew asked, his voice quieter now, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach you.

You stared at him, trying to focus. This was Drew Starkey. The actor you’d just been thinking about. And you’d gotten hit in the face by a door he opened. You blinked again, still struggling with the fog in your head.

“I’m really not sure you can fix this,” you managed to say, but there was a hint of humor in your voice. The ridiculousness of the situation, how absurd it felt, wasn’t lost on you. Here you were, standing in a back alley with Drew Starkey, and you were definitely not looking your best.

Drew chuckled, though there was still concern in his eyes. “Okay, fair enough,” he said, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual. “But seriously, let me at least get you a drink or something. I feel awful.”

You hesitated, blinking away the dizziness. There was no denying you felt a little bit starstruck, standing face-to-face with him. But there was something else in his eyes now—something soft and genuine. He wasn’t acting like the celebrity you’d imagined, with all the flashy confidence. Instead, he seemed... human. Worried. And kind.

"Alright," you said slowly, trying to steady yourself.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

 You hadn’t realized how badly you were shaking until Drew gently guided you toward a nearby door. It looked like a back entrance to the venue, a simple wooden door with a security keypad next to it. He motioned for you to go first, his hand on the small of your back as though to steady you, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate spike for reasons entirely unrelated to the pain in your head.

“Okay, okay,” Drew said, pushing open the door with a soft creak. “We’re going inside where it’s a little quieter. We can sit for a second while you get your bearings. Deal?”

You nodded, your brain still struggling to catch up. This was really happening—you were with Drew Starkey right now. The man Ava has been obsessing over. But now, here he was, acting more like a guy who’d accidentally banged someone’s face with a door than some famous heartthrob.

Once inside, you realized it wasn’t some ritzy celebrity lounge or hidden VIP area, but rather a backstage hallway with a few chairs scattered around and crew members rushing by, deep in conversation or adjusting equipment. The lights were dim here too, but it was at least a bit more peaceful compared to the madness outside.

Drew led you to one of the chairs by the wall and sat down across from you, though not too far. He was careful not to invade your personal space, which you appreciated. He looked genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed as he examined your face.

“Does it hurt? I mean, does it feel like it’s swelling or anything? I’m no doctor, but...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You winced, touching the side of your forehead again. It was definitely sore, a dull ache, but nothing that felt too serious. Yet.

“No, I think it’s just a bump. It’ll be fine,” you said, hoping you weren’t downplaying it too much. “It’s not the first time I’ve walked into a door, you know?”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s a new one for me. Usually, people walk into doors because they’re distracted or something, but... this feels a little more like a... targeted door.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound shaky at first but more genuine as it left your mouth. “Well, if I’d known the door was going to open right into my face, I would've steered clear.”

He chuckled along with you, but his eyes still carried a hint of concern.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I was just trying to get out of there before the paparazzi went wild. It’s been a long night.”

You could tell he was being sincere. There was no hint of ego in his voice, nothing that would make you feel like he was brushing it off because he was a celebrity—which, honestly, you might have expected in a situation like this. But Drew didn’t seem like the type.

“I’m just glad you’re not one of those celebrities who tries to act too cool to care,” you said, then realized how that might sound. “I mean, not that I thought you would be, but you know... it’s nice not to be treated like a random fan.”

He looked at you, tilting his head slightly, his expression softening. “I get it. I mean, I don’t think we’re all that different, you know? I’m just a guy with a weird job.”

“A weird job?” You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his humble tone.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, I get paid to pretend to be someone I’m not for a living. How weird is that?”

You smiled. “Well, you’re pretty good at it. Everyone seems to love Rafe Cameron.”

Drew laughed, but it sounded a little forced. “Thanks, I guess. I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right word though, considering the character I play...”

You nodded in understanding. It was clear he wasn’t as fond of Rafe as most fans were. “True, true,” you said. “I mean, Rafe’s not exactly the most... well, likeable guy. But he’s interesting. He’s got layers, you know? I feel like he’s the kind of character you love to hate.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah. It’s definitely a challenge. But I’ll take it. It’s more fun playing a character who’s got that edge.”

The conversation lingered in an unexpected place of comfort, with the two of you talking like you had known each other far longer than just a few minutes. As you talked, you started to feel the fogginess in your head subside a little, your thoughts a bit clearer. You shifted in your chair, feeling a bit more steady.

"So, uh," Drew spoke up again, breaking the comfortable silence. "I feel like we should properly introduce ourselves now. I’m Drew, obviously." He grinned, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes.

You smiled, feeling a little silly that you hadn’t introduced yourself earlier, but you were still kind of in shock. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m really sorry again for hitting you in the face,” he said, still a little sheepish. "Maybe I can make it up to you somehow? Like, take you out for a drink or... I don’t know... find a way to help?"

It took you a moment to register the question, your mind racing. Was he asking you out? Or just trying to be nice?

Before you could overthink it, Drew added quickly, “Not in a weird way! Just... you know... trying to make it right.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I get it. I mean, a drink sounds nice—just... no more doors, okay?”

Drew's grin widened, clearly relieved by your response. “Deal. No more doors. And I’ll make sure to keep it to something a little more... calm.”

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[borderlinereminders]

Sometimes, we don’t have the option to get support. Whatever this reason, sometimes we have no choice but to manage our emotions on our own and that can be so scary. But it isn’t hopeless. I also try to manage my emotions on my own before reaching out for support. I reach out for support if needed, but trying to handle it myself first is important to me for a lot of reasons.

If you’re having to deal with some big emotions on your own, or a spiral. That’s okay. You can do this.

Usually when I’m struggling with feelings, the first thing I begin struggling with is having harmful urges. Sometimes these urges are to lash out, hurt myself, self sabotage or any number of things. The first thing I do is focus on my Urge Surfing skill. Here’s a link to my post on that. But if you’re not up to it just now, it’s basically a skill that helps you “ride the wave” of an urge until it passes.

If I’m in a panicked or otherwise heightened state that requires me calming down, I’ll likely focus on grounding techniques. These are things I can do that will help ground me so I can think more clearly.

What I do next depends on what the circumstances are. If I’m spiralling but I know it’s temporary and will likely pass on its own (this does happen to me! Sometimes a spiral is just me being overly tired or over stimulated and I sleep it off) then I focus on skills that involve distracting myself. This might mean using a skill like ACCEPTS. The goal for me is to focus on something else so I don’t continue to spiral or cave to the things I want to do because of the spiral.

Sometimes the circumstances are something I work on. If I’m really upset because I’m feeling insecure about a loved one, I might challenge my irrational thinking. Here is my post on challenging irrational thoughts. I might look at screenshots or reminders that they love me. Maybe I’m being really negative about myself, in which case I would also challenge my irrational thoughts. When it comes to this sort of thing, I also Check the Facts. While feelings are valid, sometimes it’s our interpretation of something that is making things worse and we can work on that.

One of the things I usually end up working on is Radical Acceptance. This is when we accept our feelings, even the negative ones without shutting them down. While sometimes we need to shut them down temporarily to get through a circumstance like work or something else, trying to just shove them down all the time is unlikely to work and often leads to a blow up.

It’s okay if some of my skills don’t work for you. My basic concept is that I figure out whether I need to distract myself, or try and sort through the feeling. There are a lot of skills or techniques that can be substituted. There are just the ones that work for me. You aren’t a failure if they aren’t for you. We’re all different! Here’s my post on DBT skills!

I will say that one of the most important things that helps me the most is the steps I take to be prepared for an emotional crisis. Here is my post on that. Being prepared in advance makes it a lot easier when the crisis happens.

Whatever the case, you can get through this. A lack of emotional permanence can make things hard. And when it’s hard, sometimes it feels like that’s all there is. Nothing exists outside of the bad feelings. But there is so much more. And this will pass. It always does. These feelings are temporary visitors and they won’t stay forever.

[marigold-hills]

The Dark Wizard

preview! Wolfstar Howls Moving Castle AU a tiny little bit of the next work I’ll be working on. Posting will begin in December :) massive thanks to the groupchat for checking this over before I posted, you are the absolute best ❤️

✨✨✨

When Remus leaves his hometown, it’s not to seek his fortune, or adventure, or – gods forbid – love. He leaves because he’s a monster, and monsters do not belong in society. They belong in the Waste.

This is how it happens.

It’s May Day. The village of Hogsmead is abuzz with excitement. Revellers and drunks, lovely dressed up ladies and dapper gentlemen circling one another, for propriety's sake staying respectable distances away. The gentlemen whistling at the ladies, the ladies pretending to be aghast by the behaviour, covertly blushing and giggling.

It’s a perfect day. Sunny, warm, bright.

For Remus, it’s perfect for a different reason.

Everyone is too busy to notice their pockets getting lighter. Too buzzed to pay attention to the man dressed in ill-fitting clothes walking too close to others. A casual jostle is just this - casual. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to raise concern.

Remus has a few pilfered wallets in a hidden pocket he sewed into a stolen vest. It’s easy, this. He’s done it for years.

“My apologies,” he smiles at a man in a soldier’s garb, whose money pouch he just appropriated. This one feels good for more than one reason - the soldier was in the process of accosting a lady who did not seem pleased to be accosted. She takes the moment he gets distracted by Remus and ducks away. Remus would like to say that he makes sure to only steal from those who deserve it, but it wouldn’t be true.

Food is food, and money is money, and both are something he needs to live. Remus can’t get a job, on account of being a monster, on account of how many days he has to take out to recuperate and travel somewhere far enough to make sure he wouldn’t let himself loose on his quaint hometown of Hogsmeade. Since his parents’ passing, this is what he’s been reduced to. 

He’s tall but can make himself look unassuming, with hair once golden-auburn and now grey from the effect of too many full moons. It’s perfect for this job, being easy to look over and hard to describe. He’s young but looks old. Feels old, too, but that’s not something for people to see.

Remus makes mistakes in this work so rarely that he doesn’t notice he’s made one until it’s too late.

He’s following a well-dressed man, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The man is exceptionally pretty, with short black curls barely skimming the tops of his ears and a gait like royalty. Remus follows behind him at a stretch, slow and careful, until they round the back of a seedy, dark pub and the man turns around like he is the one who set the trap.

Green eyes like poison.

“Trailing the Wizard of the Waste, that’s brave of you,” the man says with a voice that freezes Remus midstep.

Because he knows better than that. He knows not to go for the people who are dressed overly expensive, with rich black fabrics and shining peacock plumes in their hats. He knows chances are somebody is watching over the really rich. That the possibility of a greater payoff doesn’t compare to the risk of being caught.

And yet here he is: caught.

“Or maybe simply foolish,” the Wizard says. “You don’t look a fool, but such things can be so deceiving, don’t you agree?”

The way his eyes pierce through Remus: all he can think is he knows. Somebody knows. Remus has been found out. 

He turns and runs, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Remus remembers what the townspeople did the last time someone was found out. Remembers the stench of burning flesh.

He doesn’t look back once while he flees, not even when the Wizard shouts “my regards to Sirius!”, to his retreating back. 

✨✨✨

tagging you lovely people who had previously been interested in future works - let me know if you want to be in the list for this one as well :)

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

300 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡: 𝙙𝙖𝙮 1 — 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 3.5k (phew its been a while since i wrote something this long)

𝙖/𝙣: OMG I FINALLY GET TO POST THIS!! yall i needed a minsung okayyyy i dont ship them IRL but i NEEDED this plot. also as of now, tickletober is put on hold until im able to finish it all and post it all at the same time :3

𝙩/𝙬: ROMANTIC PLOT, read at your own risk! rougher tickles but it remains soft between them, use of gentle restraint, teasing, and mentions of romantic moments

𝒍𝒆𝒆: spiderman! jisung

𝙡𝙚𝙧: minho

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

Minho had always been the type to go unnoticed, despite his strikingly pretty face. 

His quiet demeanor and cold attitude kept people at a distance, which suited him just fine. 

While others in his class buzzed with the excitement of high school friendships and crushes, Minho remained detached, his heart only warmed by small, random moments.

Then there was Jisung.

Minho first noticed him during chemistry class, a boy with messy hair and a habit of biting his lip when nervous. 

The thing was, Jisung was always nervous around Minho. He would blush furiously whenever they were partnered up, stutter when asking him something, and occasionally knock over a beaker or two in his fluster.

Minho found it…oddly adorable. Not that he’d admit it, but he’d grown a little fond of watching the way Jisung’s face turned bright pink whenever they were close.

But that day, Minho wasn’t thinking of Jisung or himself. He was just walking, thinking, in the middle of the night. 

Until he heard a crash, and three huge, buff dudes decided to approach him, backing him against the wall. 

“Where’s your money?” One asked harshly, and fear gripped Minho as he felt his back hit the wall. He was a student—he couldn’t lose his money. 

Before he could react, the guy grabbed at him, reaching for his bag, but just as panic set in, something—someone—appeared out of nowhere, swooping down in a blur of red and dark blue.

“Whoa, easy there! Hands off the pretty boy, yeah?” A teasing voice called, followed by the unmistakable thwip of web shooters. Within seconds, the robber was stuck to the nearby alley wall, struggling but securely bound in webs.

Minho stood there, wide-eyed and slightly dazed, his heart still hammering in his chest. His savior landed gracefully in front of him, offering an exaggerated bow. "No need to thank me. All in a day's work, saving helpless civilians."

Minho blinked, taking in the familiar red and blue costume. “You’re…Spiderman….”

“Yep, that’s me.” Spiderman said, straightening up with a cocky grin hidden behind his mask. “You alright?”

Minho stared in disbelief. “I’m fine.” He mumbled, his usual cool facade barely intact after the sudden encounter.

“Well, good. You should be more careful, walking around here alone. Cute guys like you attract all kinds of trouble.” There was a teasing lilt to Spiderman’s voice that made Minho bristle slightly. 

“Maybe next time we can hang out when you’re not about to get mugged.” Spiderman tilted his head playfully. “Got a number?”

Minho paused, his usual reservations kicking in, but something about the situation—the thrill of being saved, the strange charm of Spiderman—made him relent. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

Spiderman handed it over, and Minho quickly punched in his number before handing it back.

“Nice. I’ll be sure to text you if I save you again~” Spiderman teased.

“Don’t get cocky,” Minho muttered, watching as Spiderman grinned behind his mask and disappeared into the night.

Minho recounted everything that had just occurred with a disbelieving laugh. Did I just befriend Spiderman? And why is he shorter than me? 

Returning to his college the next day, Minho sincerely hoped Jisung had made progress on the chemistry project. He knew he was pretty pre-occupied last night. 

He walked up and sat next to the boy, watching his chubby cheeks turn pink as they always did, just as Han wished him a good morning, biting his lower lip and holding out his lab book sweetly; He had done half of the experiment already. 

Minho smiled gently down at him, taking the book from Sung’s shaky hands and reading through the data, all handwritten in Jisung’s neat scrawl. 

“Wow, good job, Jisung! I can’t believe you managed to do all of this in a day.” Min grinned at the smaller boy, who smiled a crinkly, adorable smile that made Minho oddly want to grab his face and kiss him senseless. 

“T-Thank you…” Jisung smiled shyly, ears turning the same shade of pink as his cheeks. God, he’s so endearing. 

After working hard on the project and suffering through every experiment part, Minho was finally done. 

“Good job, Hannie.” He knew he had to be gentle with Jisung; Just cause he wasn’t  popular doesn’t mean the sweet, nerdy, extremely smart Sungie wasn’t shy. 

“Thank you.” Jisung smiled shyly again. 

Minho got home to the dorms, pulling his phone out just to see a message: 

Spidey: Meet me on the roof in 5 >:)

God, not the roof. Minho had a horrible fear of heights. He knew Spiderman didn’t know that, though. 

Reaching for the doorknob, Minho braced himself as he stepped out, just to look down and feel fear immediately spike through his system. 

The ground below felt impossibly far away, the edge of the roof suddenly far too close. Minho froze, fingers tightening on the doorknob. 

His heart pounded in his chest, breath quickening as a wave of dizziness hit him. His knees gave out slightly, and before he realized it, he was practically crumpled at the door, clinging to the knob like a lifeline. Holy shit holy shit holy shit—

“Minho?” 

Spidey’s voice was soft, a teasing lilt barely audible over the sound of Minho’s ragged breathing. Minho squeezed his eyes shut, his knuckles white as he gripped the door behind him.

“I—I don’t think I can move…” He admitted in a shaky whisper, his breaths coming too fast now, shallow and desperate.

“Hey, I’m sorry…I didn’t know you were scared.” Spiderman’s voice was gentle, and Minho could feel a warm, gloved hand cover his. 

“I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Minho’s breath hitched, but the warmth of Spidey’s hands steadied him. He forced his eyes open, meeting the masked gaze of the here as he pulled him upright, keeping a strong arm around his waist.

“Look at me—” Spidey said, his voice close now, almost soothing as it cut through Minho’s rising panic. “Even if you fall, I’ll catch you. You’re safe. I’ve got you, okay?”

Slowly, Minho nodded, clutching Spidey’s arm as they approached the ledge. When they finally stopped, Minho dared to glance down and saw the view before him—the city lights glittering like stars, stretching far into the distance. 

The sight was stunning, but his legs still felt weak, the ground far below pulling at him with an unsettling gravity.

But he knew that Spidey wouldn’t let him fall. Speaking of Spiderman, he was rambling animatedly to Minho. “See? Isn’t it so pretty?” 

Minho took another breath, steadying himself as his eyes roamed the view. Now that the panic was fading, he had to admit, it was pretty. The city spread out like a glittering web, each light flickering like tiny stars in the dark. He exhaled softly. 

“Yeah… it’s nice.”

“I—Oh…I-I’m sorry!!” Jisung gasped, knocking over a test tube as he dumped his books on the table with a tiny whimper and took a seat next to Minho. He was late, Min noticed. 

And he was wearing a long sleeved tee…it was really hot outside. Minho’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t say anything. 

Then, while Jisung was writing in his lab book, Min noticed a deep cut on his wrist, the skin red and bruised, and he wanted to ask what had happened, but the bell rang and Sungie seemed very intent on getting out of Min’s way. 

Minho met up with Spidey on the roof, giggling and laughing at funny stories and smiling as Spiderman continued his random antics. 

Minho found himself enjoying every moment, every minuscule thing he did with the red and blue decked superhero. It took all his worries away, and he knew that not much could do that. 

Spidey stopped rambling and winced, holding his wrist. 

“What’s wrong?” Minho asked gently, and the hero shook his head. “I got cut today morning, I was fighting a villain. It hurts, but I guess it’ll be okay.”  

Minho noticed the placement of the cut seemed very…familiar? Like he’d already seen it that day, and he racked his mind for any clue as to why an ice-cold realization was one thought away from occurring. 

Minho’s mind slowly began to create some connections between Jisung and Spiderman. It was probably his brain making stuff up…but he found the two really similar. 

They were both the same height, and he could tell Spidey’s cheeks were just as soft. He knew he would’ve thought that Jisung was Spiderman way earlier…If it weren’t for some differing factors. 

For example, Jisung gets shy almost immediately. He’s barely able to even hold a conversation with Minho, becoming flustered so quickly. 

And his clumsiness. 

Minho, noticing that Spidey and Sungie seemed to have the same cut in the same placement, but he had previously attributed Jisung’s little accident to his clumsiness. 

Jisung tripped often, often over his own feet, and his hands were naturally shaky and even his adorably thin, gold-framed glasses couldn’t save himself from his own tripping and falling. 

Minho thought for a little while longer, and for some reason, although everything fit, he was just unable to believe that the shy, cute,  blushing boy from his chemistry class was a web-shooting superhero. 

But it all clicked. 

The next day, Jisung stumbled into the class, hair tousled, late as normal, and he seemed to notice Minho staring holes into his head. “D-Do you need something, hyung?” He set his things down beside Minho. 

Minho shook his head, remaining silent. The teasing, confident spider he had been meeting on the roof was really shy, clumsy, sweet Jisung from chemistry. Minho almost couldn’t believe it. 

The second class was over, Minho was grabbing Jisung’s wrist, forcing him into the janitor’s closet and almost laughing at the flustered squeak he earned in response. 

“Hyung…what—” Jisung’s voice wobbled, his wide eyes darting around the tiny space as he blinked in confusion.

Minho pressed a finger to Jisung’s lips, grinning down at him. “You didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you, Spiderman?”

Jisung froze, his face paling before turning a shade of red that rivaled his suit. “W-What—?!” Adorable. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Minho teased, his voice low as he leaned in closer. “I know who you are now. Spiderman~” he whispered the name with a teasing lilt, watching as Jisung squirmed, trying to hide his flushed face behind his hands.

Sungie looked like he wanted to say more, his mouth opening and closing in shock and fear. “H-How?!” 

“Your wrist? You have a cut, Sung.” Minho deadpanned, and he startled at the sight of tears gathering in Jisung’s lashline. 

“Minho—Hyung…you can’t tell anyone! Okay?!” Jisung seemed stressed, his eyes widening as he made his point clear. 

“Sungie…of course I won’t. You don’t have to worry.” Minho smiled gently, cupping Jisung’s cheeks and waiting for the poor boy to calm down. 

“I-I didn’t think you’d find out…I tried to hide the cut, but I guess it didn’t work…” Hannie muttered, and Minho grinned. “You’re so confident and strong in your suit, but you’re so shy and clumsy here, Peter Han.” 

Jisung groaned, his entire face turning an even deeper shade of red as he covered his face again. “Oh my god...”

Minho chuckled softly, stepping closer until he was practically towering over the shorter boy. “You’re so tiny. And so cute~” he teased, poking Jisung lightly in the side.

Jisung whined as Minho leaned in, face inches away. “I bet you’re so cute blushing…so adorable~” 

“Hyung!” Jisung squealed. 

Jisung stumbled out of the storage closet, almost dropping half of his books, face bright red and lips swollen, Minho following with a grin, half of his lip tint wiped clean off. 

“Bye, Sungie!~” Minho laughed, smiling fondly as Jisung raced down the hallway with a blushing squeak, his face bright red and his cheeks looking even chubbier than usual. 

Minho waited at the roof, smiling as a certain red and blue superhero flipped and landed gracefully, squeaking as Minho pinned him against the wall immediately, yanking his mask off of his head. 

Min smiled fondly at the sight of Sungie’s messy hair and his adrenaline-flushed cheeks. 

Jisung, clearly caught off guard, took a step back—only to stumble over his own feet. He yelped, nearly losing his balance. But before he could fall, Minho’s hands shot out, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him back upright.

“Careful, Spidey~” Minho teased, his grip firm and steady around Jisung’s waist. He grinned as Jisung squirmed in his arms, clearly embarrassed. “Can’t have my hero tripping over himself now, can I?” He pulled them so Jisung’s chest was flush against his. 

Without warning, Minho pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Wha—No! Minho!” Jisung groaned in mortification, hands flying to cover his face as Minho burst into laughter. “You’re the worst!” 

“And you’re cute,” Minho shot back, still grinning. He took a step closer, gently tapping Jisung’s chin to get him to look up. 

“Stopp…I’m not cute—!” 

“Are you kidding me?” Minho cut him off, tilting Jisung’s head slightly as he inspected him, his tone turning soft but serious. “You’re literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Your face is adorable.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but Minho wasn’t done. “You’ve got this tiny mole right here.” Minho pointed out, tapping the small mole on Jisung’s cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss it since the first time I saw you.”

Jisung squeaked at that, his eyes widening in disbelief. “W-What?!”

“And your hair.” Minho continued, running his fingers through Jisung’s tousled locks. “It’s always a mess, but it’s so soft. You look like a tiny baby bird.”

Jisung let out an embarrassed whimper, trying and failing to hide his face as Minho kept hold of him, the teasing grin never leaving his lips. “Minho, s-stop…”

“And don’t even get me started on your body…” Minho said, pulling back just enough to look at Jisung’s small, slender frame. “You’re so tiny. How is someone this tiny supposed to be Spiderman?”

Jisungie groaned and hid his face against Min’s chest with a flustered whine, and Minho had an idea to cause some extra mischief. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, content to just be in each other’s arms. The night air was cool, but Minho felt nothing but warmth with Jisung in his arms, the quiet moment feeling far more intimate than all the teasing that had come before.

Minho prodded Jisung’s side once. And just like that, the intimate energy was gone. 

“S-Stohop!!” Hannie smacked his hand away, but the tickle monster within Minho had woken up, and he was hungry. 

With a playful smirk, Minho snatched Jisung’s web shooter, and playfully stuck his wrists above his head with a speed Jisung’s couldn’t even comprehend, pressing them agaisnt the wall, causing Jisung to gasp in surprise. 

"You really think I’m gonna stop now, Sungie?" Minho asked, his voice dripping with amusement as placed Jisung’s web shooter back, and Jisung was trapped there, completely at his mercy. 

Minho stepped closer, leaning in so their faces were inches apart. Jisung held his breath, anticipation swirling in his stomach. But instead of a kiss, Minho’s fingers wiggled mischievously as they found their way to Jisung’s sides.

“Minho, don’t you dare—” Jisung began, but before he could finish, Minho’s fingers descended, spidering along Jisung’s sides with a devilish precision. Poor Sungie’s body jolted at the touch, a squeal escaping his lips as he arched his back, legs kicking out frantically behind Minho’s back.

“NONONO—Hyuhuhuhung nohohohoho!! THAHAHAT TIHIHICKLES!!” Sungie shrieked, eyes slitting as his heart-shaped smile appeared, stretching his chubby, pink cheeks. 

Jisung could feel his spider-sense going absolutely wild in his head, his body jolting at every touch as his spider suit allowed Minho access to every spot and detail along his skin uninterrupted. 

It drove Sungie mad, unable to squirm away due to the strength of his own webs as Minhi moved to his ribs next, grabbing his rib-cage with his hands and kneading in mercilessly. 

“PLEHEHEHEHEASEE!!” Jisung tried to squirm, tried to wiggle free, but Minho had him firmly pinned, his legs helplessly flailing as his laughter grew louder, sweeter, more frantic. 

His cheeks flushed a deep pink, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead as he gasped for air between giggles. “WAHAHAHAIT!! Wahahahait wait a sehehehecond—!!”

“Oh, wait? I don’t think so~” Minho cooed, his fingers suddenly pinching at Jisung’s sides, moving up to the tender area just beneath his ribs. “I’ve got you tied up all cute like this, baby. No running now.”

Sungie squealed, his spider-sense telling him to squirm to the right, then the left, and then the right again, but neither way provided any relief for poor, ticklish Sung. It certainly wasn’t helping that his sense was heightened and made everything that much more ticklish. 

“Look at you, Sungie~” Minho purred, leaning in closer, fingers now dancing across Jisung’s lower side belly, a spot that always made him lose control. 

“So squirmy… so helpless. You love this, don’t you?” Minho’s teasing voice made Jisung blush even harder, his mind whirling as he tried to keep up with the relentless tickling.

“NOHOHOHO!! Nahahahha dohohohon’t!!” Jisung laughed, eyes crinkling in joy just as Minho had an idea.

Moving his fingers to the web design on Sungie’s suit, he traced along the pattern all the way along his chest and sides, pulling the sweeter, frantic giggles as Jisung thrashed side to side to escape the ticklish sensation. 

Jisung threw his head back, a wide, helpless grin taking over his face as he squealed loudly, his laughter filling the silence in the area. “I CAHAHAHAN’T!! YOUHUHURE SO MEHEHEHEAN!!”

Minho only grinned wider, his heart practically bursting with affection as he watched his Sungie fall apart under his fingers. “Going crazy, huh? But I haven’t even gotten to the good spots yet~” Minho teased, his fingers suddenly moving higher, targeting Jisung’s underarms and causing him to shriek in surprise.

“IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES TOO MUHUHUCH!! Plehehehease leehhehet gohohoho!!” Jisung’s voice was tinged with frustration as Minho had him exactly where he wanted him, helpless to his tickling hands. 

Minho kept his fingers exactly where they were, curling around his underarms, moving to a sensitive spot right underneath, opening and closing his fingers in that same, maddening motion that had poor Hannie squealing out, kicking as Minho laughed along with him. 

“MIHIHINHOOOO!! AHAHASTOHOHOHAHAHA!!” Jisung screamed, frustration lacing through his movements as he struggles as hard as he could before giving in, limp against the wall as Minho’s tickling fingers continued to dance along his ticklish skin. 

After what felt like eternity, Minho finally ripped off the web, smiling as Jisung stumbled, his senses fried to the tickling. 

Minho slowed to let Jisung catch his breath, smiling as Sungie melted into his waiting arms, head pressed into his shoulder and wet cheek squished against his neck.  

He gently wrapped his arms around Jisung, his hands circling Han’s tiny waist. 

“You’re so mehehean…” Jisung whined, and Minho laughed gently. “Stay over tonight, baby.”

Minho stirred in the early morning light, soft rain tapping gently against the windowpane, the rhythmic sound lulling him further into a peaceful daze. 

The world outside was wrapped in the gray softness of a rainy day, clouds casting a gentle, cool glow through the bedroom. Minho blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and as he turned his head, his breath hitched at the sight next to him.

Jisung was fast asleep, curled up against Minho’s side, his soft, steady breaths the only sound in the quiet room. His delicate features were utterly peaceful, lips slightly parted in a tiny, innocent pout as he snuggled closer in his sleep. He looked so small, so fragile, and yet so perfectly content.

Minho's eyes drifted to the shirt Jisung was wearing—his shirt. It was far too big for him, swallowing his tiny frame, with the sleeves hanging loosely past his fingertips. Below, Jisung was wearing shorts that barely peeked out from under the hem of the oversized shirt, making him look even tinier, as if he had tried to hide in Minho’s clothes.

Minho couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his heart swelling as he watched Jisung shift in his sleep. Jisung’s tiny body curled further into Minho, letting out the softest little squeak as he nuzzled his face into Minho’s chest. 

The sound was so innocent, so vulnerable, that it made Minho’s chest ache with affection.

He didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to disturb the precious serenity of the moment. Jisung, still fast asleep, let out another soft squeak, his brows furrowing slightly as he shifted again, pressing impossibly closer into Minho’s warmth.

He tightened his arm around Jisung’s waist, careful not to wake him, but unable to resist the urge to pull him closer. As Jisung nestled further into his chest with a contented sigh, Minho knew, without a doubt, that he had fallen in love all over again.

He also knew that no matter what, when he was there, his Hannie was always home. 

[edgeray]

*vibrates*

So many wips… 👀

Ok so. IDK. I have. So many “want to sees”. So I’m just gonna list them 🤷‍♀️

Ghost Clervie AU. I’m imagining Clervie watching as Peruere- sorry, *Arlecchino* develops her “cold, strict, and unfeeling Father persona”. But she quickly reverts back to Peruere in the presence of Clervie when Arle figures out she isn’t hallucinating and this isn’t some scheme of someone trying to throw her off balance.

(I’m actually just realizing the parallels of Furina making her Archon persona and Peruere with her Father persona 🤔 Both masks are there in order to better protect the people that rely on them (Fontaine’s citizens and the Hearths Children respectively)). Anyways.

Isekai-ed Arlecchino. I’m just wondering at how that would work and how serious you would make the writing take itself. Like would it be crack, crack that takes itself serious, or serious? (You don’t need to answer that. I was just pondering)

Modern Cat or Bunny Shifter Arle. Arle in her animal form has a nearly 100% coat with the exception of one ear that’s black. It’s cute. Also, I see her as a bunny with floppy ears that are so long that she trips over them XD I’m giggling at the thought she might even be one of those massive bunny breeds too. This makes me wonder if the House exists and whether or not the rest are also shapeshifters. Like a haven for shapeshifters, if you will.

Pirate Arle. You know (you don’t, but I’m telling you 😅) I’m a sucker for enemies(who actually aren’t all that bad) taking in and caring for an abandoned enemy.

Historical Goddess Arle. I think the fact that Reader prays for a painless death rather than no death at all could be intriguing to Arle who probably regularly gets prayers from people not wanting to die?

Spiderwoman Arle. It’s not a want, it’s a need. I’m also a sucker for secret identity relationships. 

Arlecchino w/ Cursed Bio Child.

Alien Arle and Human Reader. Arle and Clervie internally seething at getting another runaway test subject (not at the human, at the fact they were experimented on). That(the facility) would need to be taken care of… (badass ArlexClervie couple who are leaders of an organization who take down illegal trafficking rings, experiment facilities, etc? 👀) Once the newcomer gets adjusted to their new home, of course.

Arlecchino x Alive/Knave Clervie.

Sorry if any of that/the extra commentary seems like I’m trying to press for any of this. Yeah, these are requests. If that’s ok 🙂

👉👈 Hopefully it isn’t overwhelming.

The Other End of the Blade

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon, sorry for being late with this anon! I really love your commentary on all of your (mine?) ideas so don’t worry about it! I’ll put more of a response at the end of this.  This one is going to be pirate AU because I too crave some enemies to lovers right now. One piece is the only basis I have for pirates so apologies if it's not alike to other pirate media.    Those of you wondering where this list of ideas come from, it’s from my ideas/wip post, where I store all of the silly little ideas for fanfics. Feel free to request from anything on that list.

Content warnings / info - enemies to lovers, semi-graphic violence, heavily one piece inspired, got WAY too invested into this whoops, 4.0k words

Before you could read books, you could read wanted posters. Before you could spell out your name, you could write down ‘pirate’ and ‘wanted dead or alive.’ Before you could write, you throw a mean punch. Before you knew how to play, you knew how to fight. And before you knew how to count your fingers, you could tie knots. Before you knew what a Marine was, you already were one. And before you knew what ‘love’ means, you knew what hate was and who to hate: pirates. Hatred towards them coursed alongside your blood through your veins. 

Pirates are the scum of the seas, raiders from the depths of the oceans that have come to pillage towns and wreak havoc over the prospering empires. They’re sick people who only know how to steal and how to kill. They rob lives without an ounce of hesitance, ignorant to the misery and suffering they force upon people because of their actions. The world would be better off without them. That way, all people can live in peace without worry from murderers and pillagers like them. Pirates are everything you should hate and you swear that you're going to make it so not one person has to be afraid of their shores–they'll never have to look at the horizon wondering if they see pirate ships in the distance cruising towards them. 

If there is one thing that your family has instilled into you, it would be that a world free of suffering is a world free of pirates. Like every other family member before you, you've been set on the path of greatness that is to eradicate every one of those vermin since birth. The only aspiration you could have is rising the ranks of the Marines. Generations of your family served in the Marine, holding the highest positions. Being anything short of one of the admiral positions, (the lowest of which ranking fourth highest in authority) is a disgrace, a stain on your one of the most prominent Marine families. 

Rising towards the ranks was no difficulty for you. It's only about two years since you've joined the Marines, and you've already risen to a commander position. For reference, even the best of soldiers take four to five years to be promoted to that level. And you know you're about to be promoted–you just need one big case. Just capture one famous pirate, and you know that the Captain rank is yours. One more step closer to cementing your place among the greats of your family. 

– 

Water pelts across your face and the strong sea breeze whips around you. Over your own thumping heart, you can hear the roaring of raging waves paired with the wild flapping of the sails and the creaking of wood. Thudding footsteps rushes all around you, and the clouded sky flashes, thundering. 

“Lower the sails!” You scream at the men as they wrestle with the ropes. Seeing one of the men fumble, you grumble under your breath and shove him away to take over. 

“Get a bucket, and keep getting rid of the water. We need as little water to get into the hull as possible,” you command him, and that's enough to make him useful. 

“Pirate ship spotted!” One of the crew members states and you groan in frustration. A pirate ship at this time? You're only just barely ensuring the vessel does not capsize! Not only is the Marine ship struggling, but no doubt the pirate ship would be too. You release the ropes, seeking out the captain. 

“Captain!” You yell as you head towards him. The cranky man shoots you a snooty glare before turning to a Marine soldier besides him. 

“Hurry up! What flag is it?! Huh? Huh?! Give me a damn answer before I throw you overboard!” Your captain gruffly exclaims at the poor Marine who was holding a spyglass, pointing it towards the oncoming ship. You cringe at the Captain's voice, silently giving sentiments to the other Marine. 

“It's a… um… it.. um…” The Marine stutters, unsure of what to make of the flag. You grind your teeth before wrenching it out of his hands and examining the flag yourself with squinted eyes. In between  heavy rain and dark surroundings, you can just barely recognize the flag: a hand grasping a candle. 

Damn it! At this time?! 

“It's the Hearth pirates!” You announce, tossing the scope to your Captain to see. 

“The Hearth? You mean one of the Harbinger crews?!” The old man grunts before seeing for himself. His facial features morph into one of disbelief before hardening. 

“I want every cannon manned now! Get your weapons ready and drawn! All hands on deck!” The Captain demands. The confusion and disbelief was practically palpable among the Marines, and felt through their second of hesitation before the soldiers’ replied with a ‘yes Captain.’

Is he crazy? What the hell is wrong with him? As much as you would love to capture the notorious Hearth pirates, you knew now was nothing but an imprudent time. Even if the Hearth was among the less deadly of the Harbinger crews, that did not make them any less powerful. You have heard from other Marines’ hushed whispers that it takes at least a large fleet (5 Marine ships) to take down one entire Harbinger ship, and even that was theoretical. The Fatui pirates as a whole are damn near unstoppable, but the Harbingers themselves are monsters ripped from hell. As much as you hate to admit, you’re not strong enough to defeat a Harbinger, and you have similar doubts for your Captain. Where does he get this pomposity from?

The other men are struggling enough to keep this piece of wood afloat, and now they have to worry about battling pirates? You doubt even the Hearth is eager for a fight. Fighting in this storm would only lead to early graves for both sides. Winning against and capturing the Hearth pirates is unfavorable, but surviving past this storm is indisputable. 

“Wait, Captain!” You call out to him. An annoyed click of his tongue comes from him, as if you were the bother, and it only makes you clench your hands into fists. He turns his back towards you, irritation written all over his expression. 

“What are you standing around for? Get ready already!” He demands with a scrunched face. 

“We can't engage in battle with them yet! We don’t have enough men, and we're already struggling with the storm!” You protest. “We're in no condition to try and fight them!”

Silence. Around you, you hear whispers from the other crewmates, sounds of agreement coming from them. Evidently, this increases the captain's indignation. 

“Quiet!” He screams. “If we're struggling, just think about how they could be faring! They don't have nearly enough resources as us marines do to survive! This is our chance to capture one of the Harbinger crews!

“After all,” he pauses to give you a pointed, haughty look. “We have one of the members of the greatest family? We won't lose with you on our side, right? We're in your hands.”

You bristle, your nails digging into your palm as your lips twitch into a deeper frown. To think he would use your family name against you. What is he even trying to do? You're too stunned to respond and he brushes past you. 

You're absolutely powerless to do anything, and so are the other soldiers on this ship. No one here outranks the Captain. No matter how correct you may be, you would be punished for disobeying a superior's order. If only you could have been promoted earlier, then you wouldn't have to listen to this fool. Had it been you, you would have this ship steered towards the closest Marine base and report what direction the Hearth pirates are going. But you can't do that. You nod pathetically, and the rest of the men disperse. 

You can only watch as the smaller ship approaches closer and closer. As soon as Hearth pirates enter within the firing range, chaos ensues with your Captain's bellowed “FIRE!” 

A cacophony of screams and cannon fire sound through the air, deafening you, and the overpowering smell of gunpowder and brine swarm your nostrils. Like all naval battles, it’s always a blur–just a flash of colors and movements. At some point, the pirate ship approached close enough for them to board onto the Marine ship. You are not aware of this until you find yourself face to face with one of the Hearth pirates. By then, all rationale has been thrown out in favor of instinct–the most precise, miniscule reaction is what keeps you alive the most when it comes to battling pirates. Your surroundings fade from your awareness, your only attention on the figure before you.

She’s a young pirate, that you can tell, but her skills are no less admirable. She has an ever passive, unreadable face that makes predicting her movements hard to discern and even harder to catch off guard. You narrowly dodge another slash of her saber, and your cutlass swishes through the air, only shallowly cutting her sleeve. Despite this, she is far from deterred, and you have to parry another swing. The steel of the blades screeches as your blades clash against each other. Now at a temporary standstill, the both of you exchange eye contact for a brief moment. Lilac eyes, brimming with determination, skirts away from yours. She pulls away only to lunge again, a thrust of her blade heading towards you abdomen but you dodge, side-stepping it. The blade skims just past you, embedding into the wood of one of the masts. Realizing the given opportunity, you give a swift kick to the pirate’s stomach, disconnecting her hand from the handle of her sword. She tumbles onto the ground with a grunt, and you use no time to close the distance. 

Just as you are about to deliver another blow, a loud gunshot sounds through, making you flinch. A sharp pain erupts from your left shoulder and you stumble back from the young pirate. You cock your head, peering behind you. This action allows you to narrowly miss two oncoming daggers, though your cheek and neck get nicked. Spinning on your heel, you face the dagger wielding pirate fully. He’s a young boy, with a top hat and matching eyes of the saber user. Siblings, perhaps? The fierceness in his eyes confirms your suspicions. 

You charge at the boy, but before reaching him, a large wave crashes into the boat, water spilling overboard and throwing you off balance. The sudden impact makes you lose your balance, and you’re hurtled towards the railings of the ship, your back slamming into it. An audible crack emits from the collision and your spine screams out in agony. Lifting yourself into a crawling position, you glance up at the havoc over the deck. 

A bit close to you is your captain, fighting against a white-haired woman. Given the striking polearm she wields, that must be the Knave, one of the eleven Harbingers of the Fatui pirates. Her movements are graceful, every thrust and slash calculated and precise. In contrast, your captain’s movements are botched, desperate. Every output of effort from him is just for another instance of him scraping by with his life. Each parry with his saber leaves his arms trembling. He is a bumbling mess compared to the Knave. Easily, you can tell it’s a losing battle for your captain. He’s outclassed. 

You’re about to rise when a flicker of bright light catches your gaze. Your eyes widen as you turn your head to spot a bright orange mass covering a part of the deck, and it only grows the longer you gaze at it. The flames stalk towards you with a terrifying space. Despite your body’s protest, you beckon your body to stand. When you have both feet on the wooden planks, you head towards your captain to assist him in his battle. Abruptly, the Marine ship shakes, another current assaulting its side. Swept off your feet, your body is flung, your lower abdomen hitting the top of the railings while you roll off of the ship. It’s only by sheer luck that your hand catches the base of the railing, holding onto it with all the strength you could muster in your left arm. The rest of your body hangs over the ever-swallowing sea. 

Your grasp is slipping because of the rain. You grunt as you try to lift yourself with just one arm. Opening your mouth, you clench your teeth onto the spine of your cutlass, freeing up your right arm to grip onto the base of another fence. With much effort, you’re able to heave your head up so that your eyesight is just over the floor. You can spot the familiar boots of the captain. Every muscle in your arm is straining, burning painfully. Holding on for much longer is impossible.

The cutlass has to go. You let the weapon fall from your mouth, and it plunges into the waters below. 

“Captain! Captain!” The guttural outcry comes from your lips. There’s the groaning of wood breaking. A large shadow looms over you, and you lift your gaze. The mast above tilts down, forewarning its collapse on top of you. 

“CAPTAIN!” You scream out, no longer having the strength to lift your head above the deck. You dangle helplessly, your grip slacking with each second. 

You hear thumping footsteps towards you, and you have never been more grateful to see the unsightliness of your captain’s face peering over the railings. 

For a moment, he does nothing, viewing your vulnerable state. His lips twitch, a small smile stretches over his face. He turns away briefly, glancing in both the right and left direction, before focusing on you again. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that they know you fought honorably,” he says, venom in his voice. “So go ahead and let go.”

Your blood freezes, and his face disappears. Your arms can no longer continue and you let up. 

You fall, plunging into the icy cold waters. The iciness does not just seep into your blood, but your muscles and tendons too, making your body heavy. Air is stolen away from you and you flail and kick to the surface for air. Everything hurts. As you sputter for oxygen, coughing out the saltwater, your vision catches the glimpse of a long brown mass toppling down onto you. It’s the last thing you see when something hits the back of your head, and everything fades into an inky abyss. 

—

Everything hurts. It's the first thing that comes to you when you are able to grasp even a bit of consciousness. You feel it in your limbs, your back, your abdomen, essentially anything above your waist has a stabbing sensation in it. A groan, followed by a deep suction of air, emerges from you, and you lift your head up. Your eyes flutter open, bright light stabbing into your eyes. You let out a pained groan, rolling your neck to ease its discomfort but find it unhelpful. 

Your eyes adjust to the orange glow of your surroundings. You blink several times to relieve the blurriness in your vision, able to see more clearly. Given the rocking motion and the familiar sound of waves crashing, you would reckon you're on a ship. Looking down at yourself, you're seated on a chair. You attempt to sit up, only to find yourself unable to. Rope digs into the skin of your bound wrists, and you let out a string of expletives in a single defeated sigh. 

“Did you learn that tongue from the Marines?” A cutthroat voice resounds through the room. 

You dip your head, turning towards the figure. A tall woman leans against the wall in the corner, a good bit of distance away. White and black strands, charcoal hands, crimson crossed-pupils, and the epitome of beauty and refinement that marks the appearance of the Knave. Strange to find that among pirates, of all brutish people. Your hazy mind clears in an instant, and you sit up straighter. The pirate captain's presence brings about your most recent memories onto the forefront of your mind in short bursts. With a forceful swallow, you recognize that you have been captured by the Hearth pirates. If you're alive rather than dead, that means they have some use for you. Whatever it is, you need to escape from this. You can only do that when you fish for enough information. 

Taking in your surroundings, you'd have to guess you're in some storage room. Stacked barrels make up the majority of the room. Perhaps if you're able to access the contents of the barrels, you can use them to escape. If not, you could easily ruin their supplies, including food and water. 

“I just thought communicating would be easier in your language,” you snark back, observing the Harbinger's reaction. Expectedly, she remains inexpressive, revealing nothing. She leans away from the wall, stalking towards you. Heels click against the floorboards. Only pirates would have the audacity to be wearing such compromising shoes out on the sea. 

She stands before you, unmoving, her piercing gaze smiliarly fixated on your form. When nothing comes from her lips, you make conversation first.

“Admiring me?” 

This earns a humorless chuckle. “There's nothing to admire.” 

Ow. 

A frown comes across your face. Acting coy does not work on pirates like the Knave. The Knave seems like someone who only responds to directness. No use in stalling. 

“What happened to my crew?”

“They were alive when we left them.” 

“And are they still alive?”

“Presumably.” 

You grit your teeth, lunging at her in anger. Your bounds don't allow for much movement, and it only makes your chair screech across the floor boards towards the pirate. “You left them in the middle of the storm with a ruined ship! You killed them!” 

“You were the fools that decided to attack us.”

“You would have attacked us first! You scum aren't above anything! How can I even trust your word? How do I not know you're not lying to my face?! How do I know you haven't slaughtered them all?!” You scream, thrashing against the ropes wildly.  

“I doubt any persuasion could relieve your distrust. I see that any sort of conversation with you will be futile,” the pirate remarks. She spins on her heel, heading towards the door. You're almost tempted to let her if it means the chance of never seeing her face again, until another thought crosses your mind. 

Why did she want some sort of conversation with you?

“Wait.”

The Knave stops in her tracks. “Are you choosing to be civil for once?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Never mind. I can't bear seeing your face again.” 

An audible huff comes from the pirate before she does face back towards. 

“Why did you… why did you keep me alive? Why did you spare me? Why did you…” You pause, recalling back to your last memories. You were knocked unconscious by falling debris, that you were sure of. You should have drowned by all accounts. You doubt your crewmates have saved you–you hate to admit it, but you would have sunk to the seabed before one of them had noticed. Your crewmates would have been too focused on the pirates to have. If it wasn't any one from your party, then that only leaves the opposing party. However, there is no logical reason for them to. You'd sooner accept divine intervention rather than pirates having rescued you. 

The voice in your head, the voice that has been fostered since your childhood, tells you that it is neither of those two, just a sick sense of karma. Pirates aren't capable of any good doing. If they've kept you alive, it's because they intend to hurt you even more. They're inhuman monsters who only know how to steal and steal, until nothing of you is left. Wretched people that shouldn't even have the luxury of being labeled as ‘humans.’ 

“Why am I here?” You finally settle on those words. 

Silence stretches for a single moment before she begins. “You encountered two of my children, yes?” 

You raise your eyebrows at the mention of ‘children.’ You're aware that some captains likened themselves to a parental figure of their crew–it seems like the Knave is one of those cases. You think back to the young ash blond pirates you briefly fought. 

“The swordswoman and the dagger thrower,” you reply.

“Correct. I found Lyney as a child, when I was wandering the alleys of a shoretown. He bumped into me because he was in a hurry to save his sister from being sold to a high ranking Marine.”

Shock envelopes your face as you process those words. A Marine? Someone whose duty is to protect citizens? A high ranking Marine? Someone whose performance and power is praiseworthy and yet they would do something like that? The thought sickens you. That kind of behavior… that can only pertain to a pirate right? It is not possible for a Marine to act that way. Other Marine officials would have never allowed it. She must be feeding falsehoods to trick you, to get you to betray your family and duty. There's no way this would happen. 

Despite your inner turmoil, Arlecchino continues. “When I took them in, fed them and gave them somewhere to sleep, it took several months for Lyney to sleep in his own quarters. He couldn't be torn away from his sister's quarters. Any chore assigned to him, Lynette had to be beside him. You would have to possess a superhuman strength to separate him from her.”

You could imagine why. Your stomach churns uncomfortably, hating the fact that with every word, her story seems more and more plausible. Why were you even considering this fabricated story? Why were you being swayed by a pirate's tongue?

“Why are you telling me this? You didn't take me to tell your kids’ sob story,” you remark. 

“Every single person on this ship has been dealt an unfortunate hand by the Marines. My children,” she speaks with a hint of indignation, her voice chillingly sincere, “have suffered and wept because of a Marine. Not one of them has ever had a good history with a Marine.” 

She gives you a pointed look, one that makes your blood boil. You hate it, you want to gauge her eyes out because you can see the glint of sympathy in them. “I see now that it's not just people having been harmed by the Marines. But their own people too.” 

“I am not some pitiful stray you found on the street!” You scream, having heard enough of this. “I have not been wronged by-” 

“Your captain abandoned you.” That is all it takes to silence you, and your outburst dies the instant it comes. Any protests on your lips is pummeled away by the heaviness in your chest that forms whenever you think back to that moment. Arms aching, helpless and dangling, and the man you relied upon to lead you and guide you, turns away. He left you, simple as that, to die. Why? You couldn't even fathom a reason. How could a captain do that? After all your service, after all you've done for him, he leaves you.

“You would have died because of a self-serving captain.” 

And you still have the audacity to try and defend him. The Marines are all you know. He was just one man. That did not mean all the Marines were like that. “He was just one man.”

“One man is all it takes. One man is one too many. And if that were true, no one else would be on my ship. I do not believe that all Marines are as revolting as him. Quite the opposite. But there is enough and that's the problem. 

“You may find it hard to believe, but we want to welcome you. If you choose to so stubbornly reject our hospitality and company, we will drop you off at the nearest island so you may return to your duty. But here, we at least know of loyalty and family, I assure you that.” 

The Knave approaches you. You hear the unsheathing of a blade and you feel your wrists relieved from their bounds. You gape at her. 

“Welcome to the House of the Hearth.” 

More A/N: I know this was really long, and not at all romantic, but I got way too invested into the plot of it all to actually focus on the romance. Please someone request a part two because I haven't enjoyed writing a piece this much in a while (i know my inbox is closed for requests but I will make this an exception. This was such a fun piece that really had me invested the entire time while writing. I would love to see Arlecchino's and Reader's relationship develop more. I hope you guys enjoyed this because it's now the longest request I've ever written.

I'm not done yapping, unfortunately. To address anon's commentary. First of all, never be sorry for the commentary. I love yapping, as you may be able to tell. I love hearing your guys' ideas and I think they're all so cool!! (I'm also lonely :v pls talk to me anons).

I love, love, love Arlecchino's character, and I so wish to see it more explored in x Reader fics (I have something like this in the works ehehe) and I totally see the comparison between Furina and Clervie (even though I don't ship Arlefuri).

I've already written Goddess! Arlecchino x Reader! I've linked it in case you haven't seen it before. I'm also working on an Alien! Arlecchino x Human! Reader, so not quite like the Alien AU! Arlevie, but I thought it's something you might be interested. I think that Bunny! Arle would be more like her plush in the Arlecchino animation, but seeing her with floppy ears is such a cute image. With the Isekai AU, I guess it really depends on my mood. (I've also put a different concept for an Arlecchino Isekai-ed AU in the same post), but likely the one mentioned in your asks will have more crack.

I really want to think you for your conideration of my ideas!! It means a lot to me that people actually see them and like can envision it and feel the raw potential for that story like I do. I know it took super long for me to get to this request and it might not even be how you wanted but I hope you like it. <333

Note to future requests: if you guys give me a list of ideas you want me to do (bc you're as indecisive as I am), I can pick one to write :33)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The Axe - Chapter 3 (Part 1)

Okay so I've done a lot of art recently, but as I've mentioned to some other people I want on a vacation for my anniversary so I'm back, I'm refreshed, and I was able to sit down and write the next part of The Axe. This fic is always super fun and interesting. I know medieval fantasy is always a turn off for me, so I don't expect many people to enjoy it, but I do think the world building in here is pretty impressive. Let me know what you think!

If you don't want to wait for the whole fic to be published over the next couple of days, check out my KoFi HERE

By the way, the whole fic is 24 pages size 10 Times New Roman. Full fic is about 11.3k. This is a long thing.

TW: mention of alcohol, public execution, gore description of corpse, religious figures

Wordcount: 6k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Behind The Dew You Sing To Me

You’d never been keen on execution wakes before, but today was different. Today, you wanted to see if you could learn more about the great hooded man with that glinting, silver axe. A part of you was afraid to so much as offer to help your uncle, but another part of you was too excited to stop yourself.

“You want to come to a hanging?” your uncle stared at you in bewilderment, “a hanging? Have you lost your gourd?”

“Uncle, I know what I want,” you sighed again, “I want to come with you. You only just got out of bed, you need someone to help you there.”

“I don’t need that much help,” your uncle snorted, “I’ll be just fine. You can stay back and do some work here. Buns need to be made for Halaxwake.

“But you need rest, uncle,” you chastised him again, “you have to rest just a little bit, right? Auntie would never forgive you if you got sick all over again.”

“She wouldn’t, nor would she forgive me if I came home empty-handed!” your uncle chuckled before glancing at you with a mischievous look in his eye, “why, you’re so eager to go I might think you’re looking to meet someone there!”

Your face flushed a violent crimson as you spluttered and coughed.

Your uncle hummed, “You really do like to get yourself into all the worst situations, dear. If I didn’t know better, I might even say you were looking to see a certain shrouded man! Maybe even, dare I say it, a certain mysterious hangman?”

You shamefully turned away as your uncle laughed.

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you!” your uncle’s grin was woven into his words, “I’d bet you really thought I didn’t know any better!” he calmed his laughter momentarily to heave the last load of loaves into the wagon. He took a moment to lean against the side and cross his arms over each other, shoulders back as he stood tall in the crisp air. You glanced back to see him admiring you with his wise grey eyes, “Come with me. If you’re anything like me or your father, I wouldn’t be able to stop you, anyways.”

Your blush hid behind your wide grin as you walked over to stand beside your uncle. He hoisted the wagon up and looked at you, casting you a wry wink before pushing the wagon forth along the dusky dirt road.

Your uncle pushed the wagon along the road, his eyes straight ahead as he hummed a gentle off-pitch lullaby under his breath, one you’d heard your auntie sing to your cousins. You walked beside him, admiring the wild poppernickins as they grew in bundles of little white and pastel orange-pink blooms along the fence posts on either side of the road. Occasionally, the flowers were overtaken by winds of orange-brown twineweed that snaked up the wooden posts and curling along the fencing. It interwove onto itself, making intricate patterns formed in the ivy under wilted papery white flowers. You figured that soon the farmers would be collecting the pollen for the Hanndoal’s-Turn harvest. You smiled at the thought, memories smelling of bright fruit coated in syrups and the taste of old brew ghosting through your mind.

“You think Ernest’ll have another batch of wink ready for this harvest?” your uncle interrupted your thoughts.

You turned to look at your uncle and blinked, “Wink? Um, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I hope so,” your uncle smiled, “I think Ernest’s wink always tastes the best, but don’t tell Leonard I said that.”

“I don’t think he can bring his head out of his ass long enough to hear you,” you snorted.

Your uncle laughed and shook his head, “Your mother said much the same, back when she was around. She never liked the Buscher clan, really.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

Your uncle kicked a stone out from underfoot, “She thought they were all pompous pricks. Thought they knew everything there was to know about gourds and squashes and the like, but they were all the sourest things you ever did chew on.”

You laughed, “That sounds like my mother alright! She knew what she was talking about.”

Your uncle shook his head, “Oh if you think they’re sour now then you should’ve been around for the older Buscher. That old tyrant grew gourds sour enough to pinch your lips clean off. Horrible things, really.”

“And here I thought Leonard was the worst farmer in the village,” you hummed.

“Leonard’s a right gem compared to his father,” your uncle said, “his father was a right good-for-nothing. You couldn’t talk to him for longer than a vigil before he’d go off about how we were bound to be under the rule of elves if we didn’t prepare for ‘the rise up’ or whatever he called it.”

“The elves?” you rolled your eyes, “I’ll admit, I might say he was right if I didn’t know better.”

“But you do,” your uncle pointed out, “we all know the elves won’t ever try to take over the continent. They’re the best warriors you ever did see, sure, but they’re not that bright. And anyways, they ain’t as evil as he made ‘em out to be, but you already know that yourself. Elves are all just a bunch of bastards with egos big enough to blot out Brak-Hah’s-Eye. And anyways,” your uncle smirked, “they still don’t know how to make any sort of good drink. They need us for a good party.”

You laughed and nodded along. If nothing else, you supposed humans had that going for them. You weren’t called ‘The Joyful Children’ for nothing.

You walked along beside the cart as it squeaked and jostled over the stones littered across the dirt road. It seemed to whine over each and every pebble it overcame as it was pushed closer and closer to where the bodies swung in the breeze. Just the thought of the place had chills crawling up your spine. How anyone was able to endure living in that forest of corpses was beyond you. But then again, most of The Axe’s life was a mystery to you. You’d never even seen the man’s face before.

The Axe was a man hidden in a shroud darker than the one he wore upon his face. He was a strange, curious thing made up of flesh, stolen bones and misplaced teeth. He was walking death through a field of corpse flowers. He was the peace made between a dying man and his maker. He was hatred and rage and bloodshed held within a porcelain vase. All of him was drenched in criminal blood, and yet his eyes were blue as a newborn’s.

This strange man had taken a place in your life unlike any other. No man stood with you when you kneaded the bread for the next wake, but he watched over your shoulder and asked about the herbs and spices you tossed into your mixes. He walked with you when you went to church, an invisible shadow by your side at all times. These past two god watches, when you went to church, you would look down at the stone tiles and wonder if The Axe sat below, a doomed man listening to the words of something floating ever beyond his grasp. Innocent eyes trained on the glowing light coming from beyond an iron grate. You wished you could sit beside him.

Your uncle trod along beside you, blithely ignorant to any of your personal quandaries. He bullishly pushed the cart forward, ignoring its groans of protest. His stone-grey eyes were trained ahead, never wandering from their final destination.

“Uncle,” you asked quietly.

“Yes dear?” your uncle replied with a curious lilt to his tone.

“Do you think that The Axe is a bad man?”

Your uncle hummed slowly. He adjusted his grip on the wooden handles of the cart as sweat bloomed up on his rosey forehead. He took a moment to stop and wipe his hairy forearm over his face, then shook himself clear and picked up the handles again.

As he began to push the cart again, he said, “I think he comes from a cursed line.”

“But is he cursed?” you asked.

Your uncle chuffed, “Oh he’s cursed alright. Cursed by a little girl.”

You screwed your brows tightly together, “Cursed by a little girl?”

Your uncle nodded solemnly.

“Cursed by a little girl,” he confirmed, “I heard it happened when he was sixteen, right after his father went out into the woods and offed himself. I can’t remember the details, but the basic idea of the story is that an execution went south and the man’s daughter cursed The Axe. What the curse is? I don’t know, and don’t you go and listen to anyone who says they do. Nobody does,” your uncle gave an affirmative nod, “but he’s cursed for sure. He sees the witch, the apothecary and Father Kim to treat whatever it is, but I’m betting that as long as that hood’s on his face, he’s a marked man.”

You shivered at the thought.

“I’m sad to hear it,” you said quietly.

“Well, that’s life when you’re a killer-for-hire,” your uncle chuffed, “you need to be prepared for those sorts of things. And,” he paused briefly to glance at you, “if you really wanted to get close to a man like that, you’d have to be ready for those sorts of curses being turned on you.”

You glanced away from the cart to look at more of the tangleweed fencing.

“I know,” you admitted, “but… I can’t help it.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” your uncle sighed, “I know I can’t stop you. If I were a nobleman, maybe I could marry you off to some prince from another land. As it is,” your uncle shrugged, “all I can do is warn you. I’d tell you to stop, but I’m not your father, am I?”

You grimaced, “No, but you’re a better father than mine.”

“You’re speaking of my brother-in-law, you know,” your uncle huffed, “but,” he adjusted his grip, “you’re right. My sister’s husband wasn’t exactly the best sort of man. I always thought he was a bit immature, but what he did when your mom died? I still can’t fathom it.”

You nodded and admitted, “I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like if he stayed.”

“You’d be a farmer’s daughter,” your uncle said, “so if you prefer the fields to the ovens, maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed.”

“I like the ovens well enough,” you chuckled, “I’d rather Auntie in my ear than getting my legs cut off by a scythe.”

“You heard old Martin got it good last turning-time, did you?” your uncles winced.

“Old Hutch told me it was a nasty wound,” you nodded, “he had to send him to The Axe for further treatment.”

“At least with The Axe around he can mend some of the worst wounds we get,” your uncle mused before a scowl dawned his face, “mind you, he only knows to heal as many wounds as he gives out.”

The thought of The Axe’s words from your last visit rang through your ears.

“I don’t think he likes hurting anyone though,” you said.

Your uncle shrugged, “Doesn’t matter if he likes it or not, he’s a torturer and an executioner by trade. That’s enough for me to make up my mind.”

“But can he really be anything else?” you asked as you stepped around a particularly large stone.

Your uncle shook his head, “As I said, he comes from a cursed line. His blood is tainted by generation on generation of curse. I’d be surprised if he can even sow another line if he tried with you.”

“Don’t be so crass,” you huffed.

“What?” your uncle chuckled, “it’s not like he’s got much to give any son of his. An old axe and a sorry story? I don’t think I’d want to be born to that, if you ask me.

“And anyways, would you want to give birth to any son of his?” your uncle asked you.

You thought for a moment. The thought of being a mother was always there; it was expected of you since birth. You were raised to be a mother much like any other young girl in the village. You were given dolls to care for and stories to lull your newborn to bed before you’d reached your third cycle. Being a mother and a homesteader was just what being a woman in the village meant. That was life. You’d never really paid too much thought to it. If anything, you didn’t even know if you’d ever take a husband. Sure, one day it would happen, but you never put much thought into it. Already most girls your age were married off with a troop of children around their hips. You were a bit of an outlier by now. But, the thought of having a husband and child comforted you at the very least. One day, soon enough, it would happen.

But you hadn’t thought of having children with The Axe. By the spirit realms, you hardly even knew what his face looked like! For all you knew, he was the ugliest man you’d ever lay your eyes on in your life. He could have a rotting face, for all you knew. And yet… The thought of a child with him didn’t sound half bad. It was a thought you’d have to play around with more after you’d gotten to know him better.

“You’re thinking of it now, aren’t you?” your uncle groaned, “by Halax, I shouldn’t have even said his name. I shouldn’t be talking about him with you at all!”

You rolled your eyes at that, “Well, you want to warn me, don’t you?”

“I’ve warned you plenty!” your uncle scoffed, “I keep telling you he’s bad news but you won’t have any of it!”

“I’m having some of it,” you retorted, “just not all of it.”

“Well go on and have some more because I’ve got plenty to give!” your uncle shook his head, “I mean, look, I can’t change your mind. Go and talk to Father Kim if you’re really interested in that man. Father Kim seems to know him best, at least. And if a holy man thinks that it’s a good idea, who am I to judge?”

“So you give me your blessing?” you asked hopefully.

Your uncle sighed, “Not now.”

“But maybe soon?” you prodded.

“Maybe,” your uncle conceded, “but not anytime soon. I still don’t even know the man.”

“But haven’t you given him his rations for years?” you asked quizzically.

“I have,” your uncle explained, “but he isn’t much of a talker. He’s a bit spooky, actually. He’s so quiet I might think he was a louse.”

Your thoughts drifted to when you ate sweet buns together in the forest again.

“I think he just needs some encouragement to talk,” you offered.

“You’ve chatted to him plenty, have you?” your uncle grumbled.

You flushed, “I’ve spoken to him in passing.”

“In passing,” your uncle drawled.

“In passing!” you bristled up.

“Calm yourself, you prickly little poke bear,” your uncle laughed, “you’re acting like a schoolgirl here!”

“I am not!” you huffed.

“You keep telling yourself that,” your uncle smiled knowingly, “you’re only digging a deeper hole for here.”

“I-” you cut yourself off, “I don’t need to hear any of this. I’m better than this.”

“Are you now?” your uncle cackled, “look, your father isn’t here. Somebody has to act the part while he’s gone.”

“And that person has to be you?” you grumbled.

Your uncle gestured to the wide open fields around you, “Who else do you see?”

You bit your tongue harshly. He had you there.

Your uncle laughed as he carted the wagon along the trail, happily poking fun at your ‘schoolgirl crush’ and your youth as he made his way along the old road. You, for your part, flushed up to your poor mortified ears and stayed that way for the rest of the journey. Your uncle took endless delight as he moved the cart along. With a sigh, you accepted fate and walked behind your uncle.

Your uncle only calmed his laughter once you broke through the forest. The cart caught on tangled weeds as you travelled down the lonesome road to the old hanging stone. The trees were thick enough to cast a haunting shade over the two of you. In woods like these, a highwayman could be hidden behind any tree. Suddenly, you were terribly glad to have your teasing uncle by your side. Even if he was an older man, he still had a good bread knife tied to his belt. You had your own little dagger, but your uncle was a seasoned man with a quick draw. It wasn’t much, but anything was better than giving in to whatever the highwaymen demanded.

Your uncle huffed and puffed as he pushed the wagon along the overgrown road. You only knew to follow the path because the trees had been artificially cleared generations before you, leaving a winding trail that snaked erratically through the woods. Evidently, the wood cutters had only cut through the easiest trees, unable to move the monoliths that stood along the edges of the waxing and waning road. In some parts, the wagon only just barely squeezed through the gaps in the trees. You wondered how any of the large carriages were able to make their way through the trees when they already pressed down on you, crushing you like insects under their wild thumb.

Ferns and flowers peeked from behind the old woods to wave in the passing wind. You watched Brak-Hah’s-Eye blink in and out above between the tall pines as you walked along. As you drew further and further into the woods, you felt the chill of shadows creeping up along the back of your neck.

You were blinded when you broke into the bright opening of the Criahlin’s stone. The black slate shone, polished of blood and grime to prepare for the coming day. Around the edge of the circle, stalls had been set up to welcome in any visitor in need of a sweetlin or a swintlin. Someone had set up a stall to shine shoes, another gave out bags of grain for cart beetles. You couldn’t help but be amazed by how so many were able to come and capitalize on the death of a criminal.

Already, a group of townsfolk had gathered around a large loch tree on the far edge of the clearing. Beside it, a long ladder had been placed, leading up to a long twineweed rope. You followed the rope up, up and up to a thick and heavy tree bough. It looked as thick as a man, but it had been cut off after a couple of lengths to prevent the tree from covering up the entire clearing. You had to wonder how often someone had to go up and trim it back to keep it from taking up the whole space.

By the bottom of the tree, Judge Holten sat on one of the large roots that jutted up from the loamy earth. Beside him, Father Kim looked out over the crowd, lips pressed into a thin line. His dark eyes darted side to side as he took in the familiar faces of his congregation. You wondered what he thought of you all.

In the stall nearest to you, you could see Nikto sitting and watching the crowd with an amused look in his eyes. By his side, bottles of eggs, vegetables and even meats were put on display with delicate care. He glanced over your way and waved at you and your uncle.

“Ah, friends!” he called out, “come take the stall beside me!”

Your uncle waved back and brought the cart as close as he could. When he stopped the cart by Nikto’s stall, the old northern man rose to his feet to help you and your uncle set up your display.

You worked quickly with the extra set of hands. A few times Nikto stopped to help your uncle set up his display in a more appealing way. You laughed at the sight, but thanked him nonetheless. Halax knew that your uncle needed the help.

“No no no,” Nikto grumbled as he took the spider buns from your uncle, “put these on the middle shelf. They’re cute and sweet, so people will see them better if you put them there. And put the smallest buns on top! Trust me on this, old man.”

Your uncle followed the other man’s words, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But who were you to argue with Nikto? All his displays were immaculate. Even the products themselves were made so perfectly that you couldn’t stop salivating at the sight of them.

“How do you know how to make everything look so nice?” you wondered as you followed his guidance.

“Secret tips from my mother back home,” Nikto’s eyes crinkled behind his wooden mask, “mother always knows best, you know?”

You faltered briefly before flashing a wide smile, “Well, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Nikto shook his head, “Mothers never leave their children, Criah doesn’t work that way. We always have our families with us.”

You smiled softly, “You think so?”

Nikto laughed heartily, “I know so! Mother never left. She’s always here,” Nikto thumped his chest before he leaned in conspiratorially, “and that’s how I know your uncle can’t set up a stall to save his life!”

You groaned but couldn’t hold back a laugh. Nikto was an odd man, but at least he was always a fun person to share company with. You shook your head and turned back to your stall.

“Well, it looks like we’re about ready to start selling,” you said as you admired the hard work.

“Can you manage the till?” your uncle asked.

“Are you offering to do the calling?” you replied.

Your uncle nodded and pointed over to the other stalls, “It looks like we don’t have much competition today.”

You glanced over at Nikto.

“My goods are meant to be brought home,” he shrugged, “not eaten here. Yours are better for the show.”

Right, the show. That was certainly one way of putting it.

“I can handle the crowds,” you told your uncle.

“Right then,” your uncle nodded, “I’ll head out and get to hawking.”

You watched your uncle walk out in the crowd, puff up his chest and call out in a big, booming voice. On que, a few customers eagerly turned and looked around before finding your stall and rushing forth. You didn’t understand how anybody was able to eat during these events, but evidently you were the odd one out.

Before long the line had formed and you were up on your feet exchanging coins for sweet and savoury buns. To your delight, a few customers immediately left your line to go over to Nikto’s stall to pick up some jars of his pickled goods. Nikto was never quite as popular, but having the top-selling stall beside him evidently did something for his numbers. A part of you wondered if he’d thought about this when inviting you over, but another part couldn’t care less. You were shopkeepers just the same as he was; you had to do whatever it took to make a good living in a small town. 

As the townsfolk came and left your stall, you did your best to focus on them rather than on the absence of the most prominent figure at the event. Wherever you looked, The Axe was notably absent. Of course you already knew where he was. He was probably bringing the poor victim to the gallows at that very moment. You knew the ritual well enough by now.

The executioner would go to the prison and then pick out the culprit. Then, the culprit would be carted to the outskirts of the forest, at which point The Axe and his victim would be dropped off and The Axe’s assistant would drive the cart back to the Axe’s home. Then, the Axe and his assistant would both make their way to the hanging site. Of course, the assistant would arrive first, and then the Axe would come through the clearing. Then, once they’d both arrived, the event would begin. That’s how it always was, it was how it always would be. A part of you wondered if there was another way. The thought of letting a murderer go free seemed unthinkable, but did they have to die themselves? You didn’t know. Somebody with more time on their hands might have been able to think over the problem more thoroughly, but as it was you only felt opposed to the executions, but weren’t able to think of any other good solution.

You watched the crowds slowly grow in number as they bumbled around your stall. The bread and buns were flying off the shelves at this point. Muffins were devoured before your very eyes. The throng of people was generating an electric buzz in the air, crackling with the winds through the trees. Judge Holten looked out over the crowd with a disdainful eye, Father Kim behind him with a more sympathetic expression. Even from here, you could see him shivering in the cool air. With how his hands had withered away, you figured they were probably more sensitive than ever.

Whispers rippled through the crowds. As with any gathering, you heard stories from all around the village. Some talked about the local drunk’s latest antics at the tavern. Another rumour was about what an old woman was doing with her pets in the shed out back. Someone mentioned that the butcher was getting a bit steep with his prices. Another said the nuns were getting frustrated with the lack of provisions provided to the church as of late. All these stories curled around the air with a whimsical twirl. The stories ranged from the banal to the completely bizarre in nature. The ones about the old woman and her pets stood out as a particularly egregious one.

You chuckled at the latest tidbit of gossip being thrown your way. You waved the man off with a big toothy grin and turned to help the next customer. To your surprise, it was none other than Salvatrice.

“Salv!” you beamed as you packed her usual order, “I didn’t think you were back yet!”

Salv played with an arrowhead between her fingers as she said, “Well, the raptor was pretty easy to track. It was too big to hide from me for long.”

“So, a successful hunt?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Salv nodded, “a good hunt.”

“Great! So you’ll be selling it soon?” you queried.

“Once Tor breaks it down,” Salv frowned, “but he’s getting pricey these days.”

“So I heard,” you mentioned as you served a different customer.

“He’s asking for nearly a quarter of my wage now,” Salv grumbled, “I can’t keep up with that! Hunters don’t make that much, you know?”

“You’ve let me know a few times before,” you replied easily.

“Now he’s going around asking for a hundred stones. I can’t afford that! Nobody can!” Salv clenched her fist around the arrowhead.

“I’m sure the prices will go down,” you assured her, “Tor can’t keep charging those sorts of prices for long. The people in this village just can’t afford that.”

“Maybe, or maybe they’ll keep paying them because there’s nobody else,” Salv clenched her jaw tight.

“Well, I hope not,” you scrunched up your face, “I don’t want to think what people would do. The last cycle was bad enough as is.”

“I think it’s because of the last cycle that he’s charging these prices,” Salv shook her head, “he realised he can get away with it.”

“But those were desperate times,” you pointed out.

“And all the businesses took advantage of how vulnerable we all were,” Salv leveled a glare at you, “they learned from our weakness.”

You shook your head free of her thoughts, “No, I’m sure there’s a good reason. Tor isn’t a bad man. He’s not like that.”

“You say that,” Salv spat bitterly, “but I’m not so sure. I think he’s a blorgron.”

You glared at the dark haired hunter fiercely, “Don’t say that! We’re all just trying to recover after the flooding and droughts.”

“At the expense of the people!” Salv retorted.

You cringed and held up your hands meekly, “I don’t know. It’s not my place to say.”

Salv stared you down with coal-black eyes. Hot burning coals burned through your clothes to your very soul. Hatred, fury, injustice, it all flickered through her eyes before she settled on one final emotion: defeat.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she sighed, “you’re a vendor just like Tor. But,” she gave you a resigned half-smile, “you keep your prices affordable at least.”

“We try to,” you handed out another loaf of bread, “Uncle always wants to raise them up, but Auntie won’t let him.”

“She’s a damn good woman then,” Salv determined.

“She’s sometimes a good woman,” you grumbled, “she’s a slave driver if you ask me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you,” Salv gruntled.

“I suppose so,” you said. You turned to say more to her when the crowd broke out into a roar.

Salv smirked as she took a bite of the beetle meat bun, “Looks like the show’s started.” 

Salv slunk into the obscurity of the crowd as you peered over the edge of your stall. You couldn’t help but stare as The Axe came into view, easily a head and shoulders above everyone else at the clearing. His hood fluttered around his clavicle with the wind as he strode forth. He looked around the clearing with blank eyes before they fell upon you. Immediately, they lit up with bright recognition, and just as they did, the light went out and he was back to the blank mask of before. You were the only person in the entire crowd to notice how he stumbled slightly when he moved past you to the Criahlin’s stone.

Once they got to the stage, the prisoner was finally revealed to you. A wiry man with a thin, pinched face. His eyes burned dark with a silent rage, furious and clawing inside him like a ravenous beast.

Judge Holten watched The Axe guide the man to the center of the stone, then down into a kneeling position. You winced sympathetically.

“Karl Hoffman,” Judge Holten pulled out his thick book of laws and perched it on his bulging stomach, “thirty-eight cycles, father of eight cycle Klara Hoffman and ten cycle Mathilde Hoffman. Husband of thirty–two cycle Martha Hoffman. Employed as a fishmonger, but was found out to have joined the Raptor’s Claws to steal a living as a highwayman.

“Karl Hoffman is accused of three charges of manslaughter, the assault and battery of two different women, battery of six different men, and accused of stealing over twenty thousand faces. For these charges he has been sentenced to death by choking,” Judge Holten smirked as he shut his book and tucked it under his corpulent arm and turned to face Karl, “you are a damned man, but I will be giving you one last chance at redemption. Do you take Halax as your lord above, in this life and beyond, forevermore?”

Karl turned his thin neck to glare down at Father Kim. You watched as Father Kim stood tall against the withering stare, unmoving in the face of evil. Karl pulled his head back, then spat directly into the priest’s face.

Karl turned back to look at Judge Holten’s reddening face and gave him a twisted grin with a mouth full of crooked teeth, “No sir, I don’t think I do.”

His whispering voice sent chills up your spine. The display itself was unthinkable. How anyone could revoke the name of Halax, especially in their dying moments, was beyond you. You stared, gobsmacked as Judge Holten awkwardly shifted his robes over his protruding belly and waddled side to side. Judge Holten glanced over to Father Kim, who had carefully used his coarse brown robe to wipe his face clean, marring the markings he’d painted onto his face that morning.

You glanced between the men as Judge Holten looked to Father Kim, he himself shaken by the flagrant display of utter disinterest in any form of honor or redemption for himself or his family. You trembled slightly as you waited for anything to happen.

Father Kim stepped forward and presented a bowl of black ink to Karl. The man tried to move out of the way, but The Axe clamped onto the back of his neck and kneeled into his legs. Father Kim gave the executioner a long, thankful look and then went on with his work. He gently placed his forefingers into the ink, then gently pressed them onto the man’s forehead. With a shudder of his shoulders, he painted a large eye on his forehead, then two slashes crossed over it. Father Kim rose back to his feet and steeped back with a mournful shake of his head. The Axe stepped back to hover by his side.

You watched as Judge Holten turned back to the crowd with a shaky breath. He looked up, his watery red-rimmed eyes glanced around before finally settling back on the crowd.

“Karl Hoffman has declared to the court that he does not wish to be reunited with Halax in the next realm. As such, he is declared lost, and Martha, Mathilde and Klara Hoffman are hereby stripped of their citizenship and declared lost as well,” even the horrible Judge Holten trembled like a leaf before he straightened up and turned to the hooded man by the back of the stage, “my Axe, if you’d please.”

The Axe stepped forward from the back of the stage to take the back of Karl Hoffman’s neck into his hand. He screamed bloody murder and thrashed against the giant man’s grip, kicking and spitting like a wild animal. The Axe tried desperately to give him one last chance of dignity by letting him walk up the ladder himself, but Karl immediately tried to dart into the woods. Within a couple of steps, The Axe had his hand back on the back of his neck and gripped it tight as he dragged the man back to the ladder. With one hand on the ladder and one on his victim’s neck, The Axe slowly crawled up the ladder while Karl dangled limply at his side. He tried to kick the ladder over but Father Kim was quick to stabilize the two. Karl screamed until his voice broke when The Axe rose to the top and finally looped a noose around Karl’s neck. With nothing left to do, The Axe slowly lowered Karl and left him to suffocate.

Karl kicked and gripped at the noose around his neck, lifting himself just barely to scream profanities at the gathered crowd. He spluttered and spat before he turned to his wife and cursed her and his children like nothing you’d ever heard before. Meanwhile, his wife watched him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Her rudy hair waved in the coming breeze as she watched her husband use his last moments not to declare his love to her, not to apologise for his actions, but to spew hatred the likes of which nobody there had ever seen. Even from here you could see her struggle to keep her wailing children at her side. Their littlest daughter stared up at her father with big black eyes, so much like her father’s but filled with sadness and love instead of hatred and fire. You could only imagine her asking her mother what it meant to be lost, what it meant now that their father was gone.

Karl Hoffman continued to kick and spit, but his grip grew weak and he slowly slumped into the noose. At that point, you turned away and focussed on packing up the rest of the bread. Some things were better left unseen.

Glossary

1. Halaxwake: The first day of the week/God-Watch

2. Poppernickens: A species of flower characterized by tiny five-petal flowers that grow in bunches along a tall stalk. Large round leaves shoot out along the bottoms of the stalks. The flower seeds can be ground to get a floral spice used in cooking. Leaves can be used as salves for burns.

3. Twineweed: A long vine once considered a pest plant, but is now used to weave fence posts together to create natural fences. The large white flowers are toxic to most animals, but the pollen has a pleasant smell that some people use as perfume.

4. Wink: An alcoholic beverage made from fermented fruits. Farmers often collect any fruit that spoils or grows poorly and use it to make wink for the end of the year. Each batch has its own individual taste. Usually, years with plenty of rain make the best wink.

5.  Vigil: A minute in their time, a bit over a minute in our time. Used as an expression for a short amount of time.

6. Elves: A warlike species known for being the best hunter/warriors on the continent. Their brutal culture is widely feared by others. Many believe that if elves were more intelligent, they would have organised to take over the continent and wipe out all other species. As it is, they are known for their brawn more than their brain, and thankfully they are too curious and entertained by other cultures to attempt genocide. They find all other species weak, but amusing enough to take as slaves for their own entertainment.

7.  Brak-Hah’s-Eye: The sun, the center of their solar system

8.  Corpse Flowers: A group of species of flowers that grow near decay. They are often seen as cursed flowers, and use of them is heavily prohibited by most laws. However, they are known to be excellent pain killers and excellent disinfectants. Have a notably bitter, sour taste. Look somewhat like snowbells or lady’s slippers.

9.  Turning-Time: Season

10.  Poke Bear: A tiny species of bear covered in spines. The animal will occasionally roll into a ball and charge downhill at its prey. Other times, it uses its long spined tail to defend against larger predators.

11.  Sweetlin: A round, sweet fruit, much like an apple but larger and more filling.

12.  Swintlin: A very sour fruit covered in a thick, black skin. Very citrusy and used in both sweet and savoury cooking and baking.

13.  Loch Tree: A type of coniferous tree that grows in the northern Mormonian forests. Grows to eighteen meters in height with long branches spiralling around to form a canopy below. The pine needles are hard, and often used as sewing needles to make clothes. The sap can be used for glue. The wood is notably difficult to work with because it is so hard, and it has a strong smell that lingers for years to come. Makes poor firewood because the sap forms large pockets in the wood, and when heated up explodes.

14.  Stone: Slang for a face. A face can be broken into one hundred fragments, which refers to cents. Every face is composed of one hundred fragments. Slang for a face is a stone, slang for a fragment is a pebble. Used as currency.

15.  Blorgron: A large, fat and unintelligent lizard with a broad head and a stumpy jaw. Equivalent to a pig, but a simple herd animal. Known for being simple minded and territorial over food. Often considered to be symbols of gluttony.

16.  Declared Lost: When an individual is legally declared lost, they lose their rights as a citizen in their nation. They are considered lost from the light of any god, and as such are considered lesser citizens. They cannot vote, cannot marry nor divorce, cannot receive medical treatment or any form of charity from the community. Many fall into complete poverty as others refuse to be associated in any way, lest they be dragged down with the lost ones. To be declared lost is the greatest social punishment a court can give out. Many will leave to go into exile because of the shame of being lost.

Part 2

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

Full Fic on KoFi Here

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday

The last one I did may have been in September. 👀 Been a long time. Haven’t really been writing much fanfic. Stuck on different papers for school. I was tagged by @evolnoomym and she shared ideas so I will too! ❤️ @pr3ttynpiink also tagged me and looks to be cooking up some fun new fics. 🥰

I want to write something for Modern Din and Christmas to go in my series: This is the Neighborhood Din, but it will likely need a chapter between that to make sense. (Every so often I care about making sense). Also more Luke doing Jedi yoga on his lawn and Poe & Finn being boyfriends because I want it all!

I need to write a new chapter of Weddings 101 with Dieter. Kinda left on a cliffhanger and a lot happened in my mind that should be posted 🤣

There’s a little over a month until the DMAMC 2025 challenge is due, haven’t written anything. Actually forgot about it, but fear not! I’ll think of something. 👀 My character is Pero Tovar (I doomed myself by picking him 😭 like the level of difficulty). But maybe I’ll revisit a pairing I’ve done.

Random but working on a Baldur’s Gate 3 fic and bugging @perotovar (Erin beta read for me what I have so far), @megamindsecretlair reads the snippets I send her and @soft-persephone looks at the pics I send her and is honest 🤣🤣🤣). Everyone’s favorite moody (for many a legit reason) and murderous pale elf who’s a vampire Astarion and an OFC. Things that happened between these two: a lot of staring, mocking Gale (everyone’s favorite past time- he makes it easy but also the wizard is really nice insane like everyone else but nice), drying some hair, hugs and some tears. Lots of angst, fluff and comfort. Haven’t decided on smut yet, is likely but I’ll see how it reads.

Didn’t realize that A Safe Place for Us was up to chapter 7 on AO3 and only 5 on Tumblr 👀 My bad. I should be able to post one chapter on here before November ends. The formatting and graphics take me the longest. 🤓

I also have a secret Santa fic things I’m supposed to be working on for a discord group but I also have not started. 👀 Unsure of which direction it should go in. I’ll figure it out, eventually I think.

The first paragraph of chapter five of “A Safe Place for Us”:

Waking up to Dieter takes getting used to for Aisha. It’s not unwelcome, she’s just not used to someone clinging to her like he does. Every morning he stays at her apartment is one where he has his arm and head somewhere on her. Chest, stomach, thigh, back, ass one time because he enjoys scissoring her entrance wider and scooping his spend that drips out of her back in before pumping his fingers to stir his cum within her.

Yeah…chapter five is…a ride so to speak. 👀 Forgot we had a strong start.

I found a WIP that contains Marcus Pike angst:

His romantic relationships and come and gone just like yours but you always had each other. Though, you treated yours as ways to work off the need you felt for your friend. To distract yourself, even when you were with your other partners, you’d think of him during the throws of passion, even when having simple meals and they may chew too loudly. You loathed your behavior toward your partners and your friend, biting your lips to not utter his name while under someone else.

“Marcus…”

Is the only name you want to say but can’t.

Hmm….might be a good holiday one or something. 🤔

That’s the ideas for now. Always a lot and never finished. ✅ Would it be Nerdie if they were? 😎

Have a happy Thanksgiving, holiday, days off of work and stay safe!

NPT: @chaithetics @schnarfer @inept-the-magnificent @yopossum @djarinmuse @604to647 @secretelephanttattoo @magpiepills @maggiemayhemnj @murder-wife @sin-djarin @syd-djarin @morallyinept @westside-rot @tinytinymenace @sunshinehaze1 @soft-girl-musings @goodwithcheese @jolapeno @bluestar22x @clawdee @romanarose @beefrobeefcal @bitchesuntitled @bitchwitch1981

[fandom-hoarder]

There was a lot nice, but "sleazy jdm x Jared " got me so crazy. Please share.

🥰 Sleazy jdm x jared is loosely based on this post (and unbeknownst to me at the time, @supernaturalkickparty started one at the same time lol. I'm pretty sure hers is farther than mine though.😅)

“I just want to try it. It’s okay, right?” The kid looks at him, earnest and hopeful.

A little thrill goes through Jeff at the sight, like he’s found a four leaf clover; the kid’s a first timer.

“You said at Jensen’s if I ever wanted to try it, to come to you first. Remember?”

Suddenly Jeff realizes who this kid is. “Jared? Jensen’s friend Jared?”

He thinks of the pretty young blonde he’d dated a couple years ago, Donna Ackles, and her equally pretty son who had left for college shortly before Jeff had stopped dating his mom. Until he’d left, Jensen had had friends and teammates around to hang out a lot, one of whom had been Jared; Jeff hadn’t minded too much, except that it meant needing a bit more discretion whenever he had a client on the line. It had been inevitable that Jensen would figure out how Jeff made his real money, and although Jensen hadn’t ratted him out to his mom, it had also been inevitable that Donna would find out eventually.

But not before Jeff had done the responsible adult thing and taught Jensen and his friends about watching out for drug scams, and told them if they ever decided to do drugs, to come to him. He’d make sure they had a good first time. Jeff remembers how Jared had blushed just as much back then as he is now, and wonders if Jared had wanted to back then, too. But Jensen had gone off to school without taking him up on it, and Jared had stopped coming around—probably off at college himself—and then Donna had kicked Jeff out, and he had found himself a little rental on the other side of town and gotten used to the bachelor life again.

Jeff can’t get over the breadth of Jared’s shoulders now, or the sharpening of his jaw; but the dimples, and those delicate moles on his face, and those unique, fox-like eyes—those he remembers. He wonders how he didn’t recognize the kid before, but he must’ve grown about six inches in these last few years. Jeff remembers being able to see the crown of the kid’s head, and now they’re about even.

“Yeah, Jensen’s friend,” Jared answers, voice soft, blushing red now.

“Well, damn, kiddo, you sure filled out, didn’t you?” Jeff finds himself saying. “You did good coming to me.”

Jared perks up, still blushing, “I did?”

“Yeah, dude,” Jeff says, giving Jared’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

Jeff has a few pre-rolled joints for easy selling, but he likes to make the first time an experience. It keeps them coming back, and he likes to think of himself as the wise old uncle type, with wisdom that must be passed on.

“Watch closely, son. We’ll have a practical exam later,” Jeff jokes.

Jared’s eyes don’t leave Jeff’s hands as he gets out a paper and fills it from his personal grinder, rolling it back and forth between his fingers until it’s just tight enough. When Jeff lifts it to his mouth to lick the gum edge, Jared stares intently at Jeff’s mouth, swallowing noticeably when his eyes flicker up and meet Jeff’s before skittering back down to his fingers closing up the joint and tapering the ends.

“You ever smoke anything before?” Jeff asks, pretty sure of the answer, holding up the doobie for Jared to get a look at his work.

“No, Sir,” Jared says again, taking it from him and examining it almost reverently.

Jeff can’t help grinning and replying in a flirtatious rumble, “Keep that ‘sir’ stuff up, son, I might just get used to it.”

Jared laughs like he thinks Jeff is teasing him, and Jeff just smiles enigmatically, brushing his fingers against Jared’s as he takes the joint back.

“If it’s your first time, I better start it up for you. But first: a little ambiance.” Jeff gets up and switches off the bright overhead light, reaches for the switch on the Budweiser & Bud Light sign above Jared’s head, and the room lights up in a purple combination of the red and blue lights. He drops back into his seat, snatches the joint from where he’d tucked it behind his ear, passes it around his fingers just for the showmanship, lights it up and takes a few short puffs, getting the cherry glowing nice and even before inhaling deeply and blowing it out in a casual ring. Holds the doobie up, savoring the flavor and watching the smoke ripple as he offers it over to Jared. Jeff thinks he feels Jared’s fingers shake as the kid pinches the tip of the joint and takes it from him. He watches Jared’s cheeks suck in as he hits it and hands it back, and they get three rotations in before Jeff realizes Jared isn’t blowing out any smoke.

“Hey, dude, you getting anything?”

“I don’t know, ”Jared admits, like the truth is painful. He looks sheepish, holding the joint out to Jeff like he’s been asked to give it back. Jeff can’t quite tell if he’s blushing anymore thanks to the bar light, and feels a little robbed.

“Here,” Jeff says, taking the joint and smoothly hopping the corner from his seat to the cushion right beside Jared. “I’ll hold it for you. Make sure you aren’t pinching it closed.”

Jared looks like he can’t believe this is happening, even as Jeff puts the tip of the joint between Jared’s open lips. Fingertips kissing Jared’s mouth, Jeff softly commands, “Suck.”

And Jared does, hard, cheeks sucking in again, cherry eating down the paper. A cloud of smoke bursts out as Jared immediately starts coughing from his first real hit, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes after a few barking coughs. Jeff can’t help but laugh, endeared, patting his back through the choking. “Relax, sweetheart. Don’t fight it. Just let it out.”

Jared finishes coughing and wipes his face and mouth with his shirt. Jeff lets his eyes travel the wide strip of stomach it reveals; the peak of hip bone above Jared’s basketball shorts; the hint of a treasure trail disappearing into his waistband. He drags his eyes back up when the shirt drops, and drinks in Jared’s sharp collarbone as he adjusts his clothes. “Sorry,” Jared says, not meeting Jeff’s eyes.

“S’alright, kid,” Jeff says, easy, grinning. His hand is still on Jared’s back, and he rubs in a circle before pulling back to rest his arm on the back of the couch behind Jared. “Happens to the best of us.” And the coughing will help the kid catch up his buzz, since he hadn’t actually gotten any yet. “You just need to learn not to take it so hard.”

[collectivecloseness]

Eddie Munson getting a bump/bruise/cut on his head that you put a bandaid on, and he’s bumping it into your mouth every fifteen seconds, like a cat, and being the whiniest baby ever. He needs you to kiss his mark now! Every time, every second! Love him! He’s hurt! Help him!

‘Nooooo’ he whines when you are not kissing it/him. It was his own fault he got it, you told him to be careful when he was acting like his usual self, pre-bandaid. You’ve given him some ibuprofen and water, but he’s all cuddled up to you and not going anywhere.

He will straight up look at you offended if you even mention you are getting up, like he will give you the most offended and sometimes bitchy look, for real. How dare you even think about leaving him in his condition right now?

He’ll nuzzle his bandaided head into your mouth tirelessly, so much that no matter where you move your head, or if you’re trying to talk, you’ve got a plaster and Eddie’s boney head and a tonne of curls following your face everywhere, nuzzling right into your lips so you can’t even talk to Eddie about it. You’re smothered easily once again.

There’s no escape from Eddie and his need. You could breathe if you just gave him his kisses like he wanted! Eventually you get too busy pulling hairs out your mouth, while Eddie’s whimpering into your jaw, how you’re just being so horrible to him, whilst still hiding in your face.

Eddie is your stubborn and soft baby but he will just ram his head into your face harder if you say that. When you ask him if his injury hurts so much why is him acting like a horned goat not making him cry in pain, he just grabs your arms and pulls them over himself instead. Not letting you move your arms out of his tight hold whatsoever.

When you stop babying Eddie, or tease him too much, he’s telling you how mean you are to your injured boyfriend, saying don’t you always tell him boys can show their vulnerable side too, and why won’t you use your mouth for less bullying him and more magical healing kissing? Why don’t you love him anymore huh?

He keeps up with this all the way until nighttime, even if it happened in the morning. He’ll be the saddest/most annoying (whatever works) boy all day long so you stay snuggled up with him, looking after your poor injured helpless baby.

Eddie will only fall asleep with you constantly giving kisses around, not on, his very small no longer even hurting mark, swearing that’s the only way he can be lulled to sleep. Blinking those dark brown eyes up at you if you stop, and pouting about how he can’t sleep the pain away if you do that.

And God, Eddie Munson can sell cute.

And that’s just how Eddie dozes off after a long hard day for him, with your arms and legs wrapped around him, his own limbs clinging around yours, and with constant kisses to his injured head until he’s knocked out peacefully in bed snuggled into you, unrelated to his head trauma

[graysanatimony]

Currently sitting on a park bench using only my mobile data to post this but here’s part 2

Quick wee edit: my dumbass just realised I forgot to add something to the actual video at like 25 seconds it was meant to say something like “I love the way Jan says Carpe diem” but it decided not to save that

[spookyxsprinkles]

if there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks, then i’ll follow you into the dark [chapter 1/?]

hayakawa aki × shy fiend f!reader

-> safe for work (for now) // 4.9k words // AO3. -> warnings: smoking, blood, cheesy, friendship, romance, discrimination, fluff, angst, pining that may or may not be mutual, soft aki, protective aki, eventual smut, eventual romance, canon divergent, fic will get into darker topics as the story progresses but i'll update the warnings as i go, chainsaw man part 1 spoilers.

Devil hunters use devils to kill devils.

The irony was never lost on you. This was a use or get used world, after all.

In the distance, your ears picked up the sounds of a fight. Explosions, rubble falling, metal crunching. It sounded far enough away for you not to worry about closing the convenience store early (not that your boss would’ve let you), but it was still close enough for you to stay alert as you stood on a flipped milk crate, stocking the fridge. The situation seemed to have settled by the time you finished and you allowed yourself to relax.

You were behind the counter reading a romance novel when the smell of dust and blood assaulted your nose, making you look up at the source. The sliding doors let out a melodic chime as a tall man with a top knot dressed in a black suit entered the store, walking straight for the freezers in the back. Your eyes stayed glued to the sword strapped to his back until he was no longer visible from where you stood.

You took a sip from your water bottle before returning your attention back to the book in front of you. Two pages later, you realize you weren’t actually processing the words on the page and, with a sigh, you flip back to try again. You struggled reading the same paragraph over and over until the sound of aluminum cans clanking against the counter top startled you. The man with a top knot (with a sword strapped to his back) had placed canned coffees and an apple in front of you.

“Cigarettes, too.”

Before he could finish pulling out his wallet, you set a white box down on the counter between the two of you. He stared down at the box of Mevius One KS cigarettes with a furrow in his brow and his eyes moved to meet your own.

“I-I have a good nose.” You anxiously look away from him and quickly scan his items, placing them neatly in a plastic bag. “That’ll be ¥4,570.74.”

The man eyed you for a moment, as if studying you, then pulled out his card to insert it into the machine until he noticed a sign with messy handwriting stating that the card machine was out of order. He returned his card back into it’s place in his wallet before pulling out cash and placing it into your outreached hand, his cold fingers brushing against yours as he did so.

“You’re good,” he says quietly.

You suck in a breath at his comment and nod, feeling unsure of how else to respond so you simply thank him for shopping at the convenience store and to have a nice day. You watch his dark form disappear down the street before letting out a sigh of relief as you adjusted the crochet beanie on your head.

+

Two or three times a week, he would come in to buy canned coffee and cigarettes. The two of you never spoke much beyond pleasantries. (“hello,” “good afternoon,” “have a nice day,” “you too.”)

Currently, he was in the back of the store by the freezers. You tried to keep your attention on your book as you absent-mindedly fidgeted with the sleeve of your over-sized cardigan.

It had been a few short months since you started working here, since you first noticed him. The convenience store wasn’t the closest one to the Public Safety office in Tokyo, but it was still frequented daily by people who worked there, including other devil hunters.

Every now and then you’d stop seeing a face come by the shop and determined that they must have been killed on the job. It wasn’t a secret that devil hunters didn’t have very long lifespans, it was the nature of the job. However, you recently found yourself feeling relieved whenever he stepped over the threshold of the sliding glass doors and greeted you in return.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt that way. He was obviously attractive, though you doubted that was reason for your feelings.

Still, relieved as you may be, you found it difficult to focus whenever the two of you shared the same four walls.

To you, devils had an acrid smell. The stronger the devil, the more offensive the smell was. You were sure the devil hunter was human, but the scents that lingered on him were the strongest you had smelled in quite a while. The smell was stronger on him than it was on most of the devil hunters you encountered.

He must have worked closely with strong devils and the thought of that frightened you. You once heard a group of devil hunters mention a special division in Public Safety that made devils work for them without free will.

You cautiously cast glance his way as he flipped through a magazine, and you wondered if this devil hunter (your devil hunter) was involved with something as awful as that.

+

By now, he must have noticed the way you always avoided eye contact with him. You're sure of it.

You try to read but you simply could not focus and you found yourself looking in his direction every few minutes. He walked around the shop, aimlessly browsing, rather than going straight for what he came for like he usually did. You’re tempted by the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him, to get to know him a little (for better or worse), but you bite your tongue.

You wouldn’t know what to say. The majority of your social skills were learnt through reading books.

You notice that sometimes, when the store gets empty, he stares at you for a few moments, as if he wants to say something, before thinking better of it and exiting the store, leaving you to watch him from behind.

+

You felt your hands shaking more than they usually did whenever he was around. You hoped he didn't notice, though when you looked up at him, you could see him watching you. Your eyes briefly look over at the sword on his back before returning your attention back to the monitor and reading him his total.

You took his money and shakily hand him the receipt, which he takes. You quickly look away and feel his lingering gaze, followed by the small intake of breath. You get the impression that he's about to say something.

You do your best to look busy organizing your space behind the counter. Your hands were trembling, causing you to knock over a candy display. Rolls of mints clattered around your boots and you bend over to pick them up.

You hear the chiming of the sliding doors as they opened and closed and you peeked over the counter to see that he was gone.

+

A few days later, you’re stocking the freezer with drinks. Despite wearing your cardigan and beanie, you shivered as you struggled to reach the top shelves. You forgot to grab the milk crate from behind the counter to help you reach higher, but with the devil hunter in the store earlier than usual, you decided to quickly wrap up stocking so that you could get back to the counter.

Large, pale hands grasp the can from your hand, making you flinch in surprise. You look over your shoulder and see the devil hunter helping you place the remaining drinks on the top shelf. You swallow hard and avert your eyes from him.

“Thank you...” He nodded then went on his way to continued his shopping. You walk back to the register to wait for him. You felt his gaze on you but you didn’t dare look up away from the register you were pretending to clean. Your head hurt from overthinking.

You checked out his items when he brought them over to you, faster than you usually did. You were eager for him to leave so that you could focus on anything other than him right now.

"A box of Mevius One KS, please."

You were too distracted with your own thoughts that you forgot to give him his cigarettes. You apologize and turn in a hurry to reach for them on the shelf, stepping onto the milk crate, but in your haste you lost your balance. You yelped as you fell onto the cold tile, boxes of cigarettes raining down on your head.

The next thing you knew, he’s behind the counter kneeling beside you, scanning you for any injuries before returning his gaze to yours.

“Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help but notice the concern in his voice. It was a stark contrast to the stoicism he usually exuded whenever he was in the store.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as you looked up at him. You look away again, sitting up despite your butt aching from the fall. You ran a nervous hand through your hair and realized your beanie had fallen off and the devil hunter was staring—right at the pair of fluffy ears on your head.

“You’re…” he pauses, looking at you in a way that was hard to read.

You panicked. You grabbed your beanie from the floor, clumsily hopped over the counter, knocking over the candy display in the process as you ran out of the store.

“Wait! Come back!”

He continued to call out after you, his voice growing more and more distant until you could no longer make out the individual words. Your feet feel like they’re going to give out from underneath you as you sprint along the sidewalk hoping to never see him away.

+

The following day was your day off, but your boss called you in. He fired you for leaving the store unattended and withheld your final paycheck. When you timidly tried to stand up for yourself, telling him that he couldn’t do that, he said he could because you had no human rights as a fiend.

There was nothing you could do about it.

You managed to find another job in a grocery store on the other side of town. It was farther away from your home, but safer since it lessened the risk of running into the same devil hunter again.

A few weeks later, you were working the register when you recognized his scent. Your eyes widened in horror when you realized he had found you. The two of you stared at each other.

His expression was stern and focused. There’s no trace of the gentleness he’d shown last time. A depressing reminder that this man wasn’t just a man and you weren’t just a woman.

He was here to kill you, or worse.

You were frozen in place. It’s only when he begins to approach you that you remember to breathe. You trembled fearfully as he stood in front of you.

“Hey—”

“P-Please don’t hurt me,” you sputtered out from behind the register.

His expression softens, but his eyes are steady, resolute. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s trying to convey some sort of message to you.

“I’m not going to kill you, don’t worry,” he replies calmly. “I’m not here to harm you in any way.”

"But you're a devil hunter... are you here to capture me and force me to work for Public Safety?"

"No."

You don’t believe him and flinch away when he pulls something from his inner suit pocket.

An envelope.

"I realized you were probably scared of being hunted, so I didn’t chase you. I went looking for you back at the convenience store the next day. Your boss said you were fired. I found out he illegally withheld your final paycheck, so I've been searching for you to return it."

Your brows furrow as he places the envelope on the counter. You weren't sure if you could trust him or not. His eyes never left your face as you looked down at the envelope then back up at him. You're not sure what to say or do, but his quiet, patient composure is a stark contrast to his intimidating presence earlier.

He gestures towards the envelope. “You can open it. I’m not trying to force you to join Public Safety. I’m simply making sure you get what’s rightfully yours. You can’t exactly sue him.”

The fact that he seemed so confident that this was going to change everything, that you're going to trust him, sends your brain into overdrive. You don't know what to do.

“Open it," he says quietly. Gently.

You hesitantly reach for the envelope and open it, finding the money your former boss denied you of. You expect him to demand something from you in return, but he quietly walked out of the store.

+

A couple of weeks later, you pick up his scent again as you’re stacking a table with cans on sale. You noticed he was accompanied by two others with inhuman scents. Both strong and familiar smells that you’ve smelled on him in the past. Devils. In the grocery store? Their casual-wear made it seem like they weren’t on official business and based on the way they were acting, the three of them seemed close.

You were nearly finished with stacking the can display, when the devils accidentally ran their cart into the table, knocking over the cans. The devil hunter turned at the sound and came over.

You’re on your knees, picking up cans and placing them back on the table to get them off the floor. The devils snickered, until the devil hunter scolded them.

"Can you two knock it off and help pick those up?"

For some reason that makes you feel embarrassed and you tell him that it’s okay. “It was an accident. Don’t worry, it’s my job to do this...”

His gaze meets yours.

“Hey," he says quietly as he approaches the knocked over cans. After taking a quick glance at you, he begins to clean up the mess while the devils continued to bicker and argue as they stacked, making a competition out of it. The way they carried themselves, like bickering siblings. Not that you would know personally, but it reminded you of siblings in the stories you’ve read. You were wondering how old they were when you realized just how tall the devil hunter actually is; he seems to dwarf the other two.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking at the fallen cans lying on the floor. You could feel his eyes on you, looking over you as though checking to see any sign of injuries. You sneak a peek at him, noticing his eyes glancing at the beanie on your head. The beanie that covered your devil ears.

You nod, your timid and nervous nature getting in the way of the moment. He scolds the others and eventually gives them the task of doing the rest of the shopping and offering them a snack reward. They run off excitedly with the cart as he helped you stack the cans. The two of you worked quietly.

He continued helping you for a bit longer, his presence soothing rather than intimidating like before. Then, once you finish stacking the cans on the shelf, he steps back for a moment as though hesitating.

You glance at him nervously, nodding as you chewed on your bottom lip. You wondered if it’d be rude to walk away right now. Probably.

"Are you busy after work?"

Your eyes widen, and you can feel your heart beginning to beat faster. You can hear the others laughing in the distance, clearly not paying attention to the conversation taking place.

"Yes," you lied.

He made a face, as if he could easily tell that you had just lied from your tone and nervous body language, but nodded anyways. He offered to buy you something to eat as an apology for the cans and for being the reason you lost your previous job at the convenience store.

"Will I... owe you?"

"No."

You weren’t sure whether or not you should trust him. So far, he seemed to have your best interests in mind, though you knew that could also be a trick. You decided to take a leap of faith.

"Apples. I like apples."

His expression remained stoic and you felt vulnerable under his watchful gaze. People who knew you were not human treated you differently, saw you differently. To them, you felt invisible and disposable. Like something to be used and tossed away when it became too much trouble. The way this devil hunter looked at you now was different than how he used to look at you when he thought you were a human like him, but it also didn’t feel like he thought of you as something less than him. The way he was looking at you right now made you feel like your heart was in your throat. You try to swallow it back down.

“Apples?” He gives a small nod. "Then I'll buy you some.”

+

He buys you a bag of apples.

It becomes routine.

Whenever he stops by the grocery store, he would leave you with a bag of apples.

It was the kindest thing a human had ever done for you.

You craved speaking with him, not really getting much positive attention from others. You felt lonely and wondered if he could tell. You didn't trust humans but you wanted to trust him. You really wanted to trust him.

So, you tried talking to him a little bit. It was awkward and you were as clumsy with your words as you were with your body but in a few months, the two of you were able to have casual small talk. You were so happy to be able to joke with him, even just a little bit.

Your relationship with him grew over time with these simple interactions, these little moments of kindness that he showed you.

This is a stark contrast to the way devil hunters and civilians had treated you in the past. Their disdain for devils would get in the way of your interactions, but you didn’t have that problem with your devil hunter. Seeing him with his devil friends gave you hope.

You looked forward to his visits. His presence is a quiet one. He doesn't expect anything from you, nor does he ask much about you yet here you are, talking almost like... friends.

"Th-Thank you, Mr. Hayakawa." You speak his name for the first time, a bit timidly. You learned it a couple of months ago when he asked to be signed up for the grocery store’s rewards program, but you never said it out loud until now. He had just bought you apples again and you wanted to thank him.

His expression was as gentle as his voice. "Just Aki is fine."

The way he holds himself seems to have loosened up considerably. His shoulders, once stiff and tense, now hang loosely by his sides. He no longer seems quite as intimidating. And you're not sure how exactly, but it almost seems as if his presence becomes... softer.

You nod, feeling your face heat up. "Sorry, th-thank you, Mr. A-Aki..!"

You can't tell if there's a small hint of amusement in his eyes, but then again, he's hard to read.

"Why 'Mr. Aki'?" He asks you curiously.

"Did I say something wrong? Would you prefer a different title?" You nervously fiddle with your fingers.

His eyebrows knit together slightly, as though thinking. “It’s not really needed, I guess. You don't need to call me by any title or honorific. Aki's enough..." He trails off.

"O-Okay... A-Aki..."

You felt your face heat even more from being allowed to refer to him so informally. You have never spoken someone's name so casually before. You distract yourself by stiffly scanning the rest of his items.

He eyes the bag of apples sitting at the end of the register’s moving belt. "Did you want anything else?" He asks, his eyes looking back to you. Your eyes widen and you shake your head furiously, knocking your beanie off balance, slightly revealing the bottom of one of your fluffy ears. Aki eyes it, wondering if you’d notice it in time to fix it before anyone else saw it.

"No, no I'm okay! Really! The apples are good. I love apples. I-I... Thank you, Aki."

"Are you sure?" He asks and from the way his eyes were staring at your cheeks you knew he was aware you were feeling very flustered right now.

Aki’s eyes return to your visible ear. You were beginning to feel self-conscious when he leaned over the counter of the register and adjusted your beanie. “Your ear was showing. Sorry.”

You flinched at the sudden contact and as he pulled away, you grabbed his wrists without thinking. You hold onto him for a moment.

The air around you seems to heat up slightly, the intensity of your gaze rather palpable. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the closeness of the situation and notice his eyebrow raising in confusion. He seemed a little surprised by how close you are to him, but he doesn't back away. The sound of someone sneezing snapped you out of your daze and you released him.

You back away from the register, avoiding his eyes and mumbling a series of apologies before making up some excuse about needing to unclog a toilet.

(Aki watched you run off towards the back. He could still feel the warmth of your hands around his wrists as he left the store).

+

The next few times Aki went to the store, you weren’t around. He asks the manager about you and she said that you took a few weeks off.

Aki wondered why and if it had anything to do with what happened.

+

As the days passed, his curiosity over why you weren’t around grew. He doesn’t know if your last encounter with him had anything to do with that, but he hoped that it didn’t.

Your absence brought about a certain sense of loneliness, and though he’s never admitted it to himself, he starts to miss you and the moments that you’d shared with one another.

+

You return a month later, avoiding Aki's eyes as you scanned his items. You were quiet today.

As you return to your old routine, you feel Aki’s eyes trailing you. He keeps to himself and gives you space, but he’s still observant as you worked. Something had changed in your demeanor. You're being polite but distant, keeping your distance from him and not speaking unless absolutely necessary. You’re not like yourself at all. He doesn’t know why and it makes his curiosity grow even more.

"Is something wrong?" He leans forward a bit, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

"No..." You say quietly as you handed him his change, careful not to touch him.

The way that you speak makes him certain that there is something wrong; he's known you long enough to tell. Your avoidance is what catches his attention however.

You bag his items and another customer sets their items down on the belt for you to scan. There are plenty of people lining up behind Aki, so you turn your attention to the next customer as you bag his items.

“Is this about me?” He asks, once the customers have cleared the line-up. He’d been watching you interact with the other customers and noticed that you weren't behaving this way with them. Only with him.

"Yes," you say hesitantly, "But you didn't do anything wrong. It's me that's the problem..." Your face burns red. "Please don't worry about it."

"Well, now you've got me worried," he replies, his usual stoic expression giving way to genuine concern. "You've been acting a bit strange. Like something happened."

"It-It doesn't feel appropriate to say, so I'd really rather we didn't get into it." You say as you fiddled with your fingers. "It's nothing worth worrying about. Nothing bad happened and I don't think ill of you, Mr- I mean, Aki."

If he wasn’t so worried, he would've quietly laughed at your little slip up. Aki watches you as you fiddle with your fingers, a bit more concerned now. He doesn’t like not being able to figure out what’s been on your mind this entire time.

You’re keeping things vague, and it’s driving him crazy.

"So, this has nothing to do with our last interaction?" he asks you, genuinely curious.

Your face reddens even more, "It... it may have something to do with that..." You look at the clock on the wall before timidly looking at Aki. "If it's okay with you, can we talk about it after my shift ends in 20 minutes..?"

He nods, still trying not to let any emotion appear on his face.

"That’s fine. I'll be waiting for you outside if that’s okay.”

+

Fifty minutes later, you run outside, panting heavily.

"S-Sorry for taking so long. You didn't have to wait." Your hands squeezed at the strap of your cross body bag.

"I don't mind," he tells you. You notice the way his eyes scan your face, as if he's looking for something in particular. Like he's trying to figure something out. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay. Thank you, Aki." You chew on your bottom lip as you look at him. It all suddenly feels too real and you look down at the ground again. "I-I'm not being weird because you did something wrong. I've been acting strangely because I've recently realized my... my feelings. I'm sorry." You say quietly.

"Ah..." Aki replies softly, his attention glued to you as you nervously chew on your lip. "Can I ask you something?"

You nod. (In your head, you were mentally preparing for him to tell you to work at a different store so that he never has to see your devil face ever again.)

"You said that you've recently realized your feelings, but..." he pauses. "How long have you actually liked me?" There's a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Your ears perk up on your head, shifting your beanie slightly. "Not long! I swear, I promise it's only recent. It wasn't until I went home after the last time I saw you, when you were fixing my hat, that I realized there might be some feelings from my end. I promise I had no ulterior motives during the last ten months."

"Just how recent are we talking?"

"...Actually, maybe I did have an ulterior motive. No, not maybe. I did have one."

Your ears moved under the beanie, knocking it off of your head. Your ears lay flat against your head, like if you did something wrong.

“Really?” Aki raises an eyebrow, "What was your ulterior motive?"

"I…” You spoke quietly while staring down at his shoes. “I wanted to be your friend."

There’s a long moment of silence.

“...That’s an ulterior motive?” he asks, a hint of amusement returning to his voice. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

"Of course it is..! It was something I wanted that you didn't know I wanted. That's the definition, right?" Your face is red and your ears twitch but remain flat. "You were always so kind to me and whenever I saw you and Power and Denji behaving so familiar with each other I-I wanted that too." Your voice cracked and your eyes welled with tears.

Aki’s kindness meant the world to you and you wanted to be a part of his world, too.

He picked your beanie up off of the ground and dusted it off before placing it back on your head, carefully covering your ears for you.

“It is technically an ulterior motive,” Aki admits. He looks away from your eyes, to the ground between the two of you. “Is that really the main reason you kept talking to me?”

You nodded while trying to make yourself look at his face,

"I like you, in both senses of the word, but the platonic meaning is what I value the most. You've treated me with kindness and patience, even when I pretended to act like I was bad at my job just so I could have a few extra seconds of time with you."

Aki's expression softens.

“Do you want to come over my place for dinner?”

“Huh!?” Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at his sudden question, “Where did that come from?”

“Denji and Power will be there, too...” He trailed off.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for the offer, though. I appreciate it but I don’t want to impose.”

“You won’t be imposing.”

He walks you to his car and when he unlocks it, you open the door to the backseat. He says you could sit up front if you wanted to. So you do. He helps secure your seat belt since you weren’t doing it quite right.

“Sorry. I’ve never used a seat belt before.”

“Never?” He asks as he maneuvers the car around the parking lot.

“Never.”

He stops, waiting for a chance to safely enter the street and takes that moment to glance at you from the corner of his eye. “You can open the window, if you want.”

Your ears perk up, pushing the beanie off of your head and onto your lap. Aki tells you which button to press and soon enough, your window was all the way down.

“Thank you, Aki.”

He nods, making a noise of acknowledgment as he turned the car onto the street. You stuck your head out the window to feel the wind whipping at your grinning face. And as Aki drove the two of you to his home, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t mind getting used to this.

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.