#THAT'S WHY ANY GOD WAS ABLE TO REACH A THOUSAND

[ilovereadingandstuff]

WHY IS ANYONE TALKING ABOUT THIS?!?!

Like, really!! I search for a tags, for memes, BUT NOTHING!!

How is anyone talking about fKING SIMP Hua Cheng who was able to light up THREE THOUSAND lanters for his beloved??

aND MAN, XIE LIAN DIDN'T EVEN CONSIDER ASSIST TO THE PARTY!!! It was Wind Master who forced convinced him to go!!

And not a thousand...it was THREE!! As it one thousand wasn't enough!! Not even Jun Wu was able to pull a thousand, bro!!! a little bit of mercy, you fking simp!! I'm joking sweetheart, I love Hua Cheng.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Guizhong (don't mind me re-dropping this with the fixed ones, shh)

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[ferrstappen]

could you be more obvious? l MV1

a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood

summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.

Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.

But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.

what, like it’s a big deal?

They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.

That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.

And God, did you celebrate him.

Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.

Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.

and you knew it was time to go.

Bahrain, 2024

Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.

You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.

The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones

“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.

The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…

“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.

You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”

Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.

“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.

“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.

“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.

“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.

“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.

“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”

And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.

user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind

user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that

user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend

user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀

user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc

user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN

[actiniumwrites]

love amidst loss

synopsis: in the height of the moment, you nearly die and they can’t deal with the thought of losing you

characters: baizhu, scaramouche, kazuha, and cyno x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, near death accidents, not proofread (sorry)

notes: uh so i wrote this a while ago and didn’t finish it up until recently, so sorry of this contains some errors or if any of the game lore has changed or been updated and doesn’t match what i wrote :) lyney was also supposed to be in this but i gave up on his part…sorry 😭

Baizhu:

“Qiqi. Bandages, now!” Baizhu yells desperately. Your heart rate was lowering by the second, while his was rising exponentially.

Qiqi slowly passes the small bin of various bandages to the doctor, “Yes, Dr. Baizhu.”

He can feel his hands shaking, tremoring as they work as fast as they can to close up all your wounds. Even throughout all his strange adventures and experiments attempting to achieve immortality, he’s never felt more afraid and anxious than in this moment. He could care less about hurting himself, but you? You meant the world to him.

“Baizhu…?” your eyes flutter open weakly while your elbows move behind you to sit up. A speedy hand pushes you back down in an instant.

“No, don’t,” Baizhu says, his heart beating out of his chest at the sight of your consciousness, “you shouldn’t be awake right now. I haven’t finished operating.”

Your hands feel fragile and your breathing is weak, but somehow you’re able to reach into your pocket and pull out a small bottle. It’s halfway full and a gentle lavender in color. It’s the concoction he had given you a while ago, in case of emergencies — an elixir of sorts.

“What about this?” you drop it into his hands. He shivers against your touch. What if this is the last time he’ll get to feel it?

Baizhu adjusts his glasses, analyzing the bottle in this hand, “Is this…? You still have this?”

You nod gently, careful not to move too much, “I saved what was left of it. I know you said you couldn’t make anymore, so I used it sparingly. Is it enough?”

Baizhu quickly prepares a bowl and some other ingredients to mix it with, “Yes, of course. I’ll make it worth a thousand lives over, I promise.”

A tender smile pulls at your lips while life beats back into your heart. Baizhu sighs of relief, resting his elbow against the edge of your bed with his pinky outstretched, “Please don’t scare me like that again.”

Your pinky wraps weakly around his, “Promise.”

Scaramouche:

“What’s going to happen to them?” Scaramouche presses, leaning by the side of the bed Nahida had prepared for you.

Eagerly, he places his hand in yours with a tight so grip you’d think he was scared. And he is. Scaramouche is terrified out of his mind. “You idiot,” he mumbles against your hand, “why would you jump into danger for me?”

Your eyes are shut tightly and your skin is so cold. He hates the way it feels like he’s going to lose you at any second, despite Nahida reassuring him countless times he wouldn’t. He still has so much love to give you. And god, what if he never gets to admit that to you? To finally say that he loves you out loud?

His eyebrows furrow and his lips fall into a sad frown. Amidst it all, a weak tone that he can’t be bothered to disguise falls from his mouth, “Please just tell me they’ll be okay?”

Nahida fights the urge to smile as she stands by the doorway of the room, ready to leave and give you both space. She nods firmly, “I promise you they’ll be okay. You have nothing to worry about.”

He nods back silently, loosening his grip a bit on your hand but not quite letting you go. And as soon as the archon slips away from the room, a small and vulnerable, “I love you,” falls from his lips.

And he swears he feels your hand grip his back a little tighter when he does.

Kazuha:

“Man, I drank wayyyy too much,” Kazuha slurs his words as he eyes begin to droop shut. You push his shoulder lightly to keep him conscious, a small laugh echoes amidst the waves of the ocean.

You feel it too — the buzz of the alcohol. The entire crew of the Alcor had been celebrating all night with big lights, tons of food, and an endless supply of drinks. Kazuha and you had already had more than enough, and it wasn’t until Beidou forced you guys to sit out for awhile that you realized just how much you had drank.

As you both sit on the edge of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge, Kazuha nudges you back. Only, it’s a little too forceful and you aren’t sober enough to stop yourself from sliding off. Desperately you reach for the wooden rails, but it isn’t enough to save you as you fall into the icy water below with a terrifying scream.

The water thrashes around you as you so eagerly attempt to stay afloat despite your lack of swimming skills. “Kazuha!” you scream before the water enters your mouth and begins to send you under.

In an instant he dives in, both of you now sobered up and well aware of the fact that a moment of fun had just turned darkly serious. All he can think about his how stupid he was for forgetting you can’t swim that well and that he shouldn’t have pushed you, even if it was a joke.

Kazuha finds you quickly and pulls you up fast. By the time he does, the rest of the crew joins around and helps you both back up and onto the boat.

His heart pounds a million miles per second as he watches you painfully cough out a bunch of water. Your skin is freezing to the touch and there are even a few small tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” Kazuha moves to hold your hand tightly, not only to comfort you, but also himself, “you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You only nod and lean back against the wood of the boat. He joins you quickly and you take it as a sign to rest your head against him. Gentle, but deep breathes leave his chest periodically and he can’t help but feel shaky all over. Kazuha had lost so many people in his life, and he’d have no idea what to do with himself if he lost you too.

“You won’t,” you whisper against his chest.

“Huh? Did I say that out loud?” Kazuha’s bright red eyes widen as they turn towards your resting figure.

You smile gently, “No, but I know what you’re thinking. You won’t lose me. I won’t let you.”

Kazuha hums contently to himself. He wouldn’t let himself lose you either.

Cyno:

“Is it just me or does something seem off?” you pause quickly, halting your footsteps at the slightest rumble of the complex structure you and Cyno had wandered into. You draw your sword quickly while Cyno swings his polearm from around his back.

His garnet eyes dart around the various hallways and statues, scowling as he comes to a realization, “It must’ve been those eremites we ran into earlier. I should have known they weren’t just ‘camping out.’”

Neither of you move as the structure continues to shake. Panicked, your arm grabs onto his as your eyes widen, “What do we do? If we don’t get out of here in time, this whole thing is gonna collapse!”

“Calm down!” Cyno shouts over the crashing sounds of rocks and statues slamming against the floor, “I’ll get us out of here!”

Within seconds later, a giant head of a statue falls from above and crashes just feet away. It happens so fast you lose your balance, feet stumbling as your arm slams against the wall. Suddenly, the panel you’re standing on slides away and sends you flying downward.

“No!” Cyno yells desperately, grabbing your arm just in time before you can fall hundreds of feet to your death.

Your hand barely holds on as you gasp, “I can’t hold on, Cyno! I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to touch anything.”

His eyes widen in fear as you continue to speak. It’s the most scared you’ve ever seen him, but he can’t let you die. Not yet. “Don’t let go, please!” His arms hurt as he struggles to hold on, just barely keeping his balance against the sand covered floor, “I’m not going to let you fall.”

“I’m sorry,” you continue to apologize, eyes welling with panicked tears. Despite it sounding like a confession before death, you continue to hold on as best you can.

As if the dendro archon could hear both your pleas, the shaking stops suddenly. Cyno’s head shoots up and his arm grips your hand even tighter. With all the strength he can possibly muster, he pulls you up to safety.

Unable to comprehend what just happened, you quietly sob and fall against his chest. Cyno doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you as tightly as possible. Afraid that if he didn’t, you’d fall again and he’d lose you for good.

“Are you…are you alright?” He mumbles against the crook of your neck.

You nod silently in response, “I’m okay.”

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

S-I-M-P. ( HOTD x Reader )

author note: The top vote has won! Modern! Aemond it is! Plus, your Aemond simp's have been neglected by me for too long.. pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Wife! Reader prompt: I was listening to 'Submissive & Breedable' by Smosh as a joke when writing this. So take it as you will.. Lol word count: 1, 000+ words

When you and Aemond met five years ago, you literally knocked him off his feet. Not in some cute metaphoric sense, like you walked past him as if you were some super model on the runway, or your eyes met across the room like in some cheesy rom com. But you accidentally smacked him in the face with a door. A literal ‘knocking him off his feet’.

After a thousand apologies from you, some tissues for his bloody nose, and a crappy slice of pizza, were shared. It was perfect. You and him were perfect, a little chaotic at times. But, he liked to joke that it was love at first hit. Which was why he wasted no time to put a ring on your finger and officially make you ‘Mrs Targaryen’. He would have no other woman, but you.  

Watching as you help his Mother set up the kitchen table, Aemond couldn’t help the lovesick grin spread on his face, feeling like a puppy. You, his wife, were just perfect. Gods, he loved thinking and hearing about it, you, his wife. You, his wife. Letting out a pathetic giddy giggle under his breath, he knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. You were just everything to him and there was something so…so perfect about being able to officially be with you for forever that was so amazing and giddy. If he wouldn’t get mocked for it, he’d be floating after you like a cartoon. 

“She has you so whipped. Pathetic.” Aegon jokes, “Like a Simp.”

“At least I am not you, twenty-five, single and living with our parents. What’s it like being a leech and burden to our mother, Aegon?” Aemond insults, the words falling out without a moment's hesitation.

“Ouch.” Aegon scowls, all joy in teasing Aemond dying in an instant.

“Yes, well, I am going to see my wife now. You know, because I have someone to go home to.” Aemonds adds, purposefully rubbing it in his face now. 

“That’s cold.”

“Mayhaps, but it’s the truth.” Aemond nods, taking a sip of his beer.

Snorting as Aegon sulks deeply at the insults and gabs, he cracks a smile as he hears your laughter, his head turning without hesitation. Seeing you laugh at something Helaena said, he brightens up in an instant, perking up in his seat. Any thoughts of bickering with or insulting Aegon are long forgotten. Standing up from his seat, he doesn’t spare Aegon a glance, his attention on you. 

“It was all in good humor.” Aegon mumbles, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Mmm-hm, well, I am going to see my wife. Enjoy yourself.” Aemond mumbles, his eyes on you

“Simp.” Aegon mocks, “Does she also boss you around during sex?”

“No, but at least I am getting some, unlike you. Enjoy your left hand, Aegon. Cause it's all you will be spending your time with.” Aemond mocks back, not bothering to see the fallout.

Feeling a familiar arm wrap around your waist, you turn your head in an instant, perking up at the sight of your husband there. There was something so nice about being able to call him that. Aemond Targaryen, the grumpiest man you knew, was all yours. Smiling brightly, you stand up on your tippy-toes to reach his face, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek for a moment. Feeling him melt into your touch, you perk up at it, enjoying the small reaction you could get from it.

“Hello, love.” You mumble, the affectionate nickname falling from your lips naturally. 

“Hello there, what are you three up to?” He whispers, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

“Just gossip and good fun.” You dismiss, a little too quickly. 

“What kind?” He asks, humming softly.

“We are just talking about stuff, Aemond. Don’t worry, it’s gossip and stuff.” You wave off, not wanting to know the truth.

He’d be mortified if he knew the truth of your conversations, practically melt into the kitchen floor if he knew his Mother had made a joke about his grumpy cat-like mannerisms and how he glowed when around you. Feeling his grip tighten around your waist for a moment, you tense up for a moment, fearing that he’d attempt to tickle the answer out of you. That was the last thing you wanted to happen whilst his family was visiting.

“Well, now I am suspicious.” He teases, a warm smile on his lips.

“It’s nothing, love.” You lie, attempting to brush it off.

“You promise, nothing bad?” He asks, his voice gentle. 

“Nothing bad. I promise. It’s all just teasing and lighthearted. You know it’d do nothing bad.” You reassure, a gentle smile on your lips. 

Watching his reaction carefully, he presses a gentle kiss onto your cheek and neck, his chin resting on your shoulder. He looked so beautiful in his light, all calm and droopy eyed. Chuckling at the way he lazily clings onto you, you welcome the gentle touch, savoring how comforting it felt. Mayhaps, his Mother was right in a way, he was different around you. A tiny pout on his lips instead of the usual scowl. His eyes droopy and soft, instead of hard and calculated. 

“You know that I love you, right?” He whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Hmm?” 

“I said, you know that I love you, Y/n?” He mumbles, his voice gentle.

“I do.” You chuckle, enjoying hearing him say it. 

Shaking your head with a soft giggle, there was this soft dopey look on his face, it was hard to tell if he was fully sober or not. But, a tiny part of you didn’t care in the slightest. Just hearing him say that he loved you, it was the best thing to ever exist. Pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek once more, he lets out a low hum of approval, his eyes shutting for a moment. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers over and over, “I love you. I love you.”

“You are drunk.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“A little. But, I get to call you my wife so it does not matter.” He shrugs, making it obvious he was slightly tipsy. 

“You are going to regret this in the morning, you do realize that, right?” You joke, the soft smile on your lips growing. 

“I can handle Aegon’s teasing. But, so long as you keep on smiling like that, it’s worth a hangover.” He whispers, nothing but love glimmering in his eyes. 

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[hotshotsxyz]

Hiii Abbie 💕💕💕

Buddie + “ i didn’t know where else to go. “

-❤️🪐

(buddie) (1.5k) eddie's pov before and after the events of this fic written for the same prompt! (technically i only used the line in the first one but oh well lol)

cw: vague description of a very bad car accident

Eddie doesn’t make a habit of watching the news. It’s depressing as hell, he runs the risk of seeing Taylor fucking Kelly on his TV, and if something he actually needs to know about is going on, he’ll hear it from Buck some time in the next few days anyway. All that to say, Eddie isn’t watching the news; he’s just flipping through the channels.

“Pick me, choose me!” Meredith Grey is saying in a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy.

click

“—low pressure system moving in from the north,” a meteorologist says on The Weather Channel.

click

“Alright boys, saddle up!” says the captain on that crappy network firefighter show.

click

“—multi-car pile-up on the 405. It’s unclear if—”

click

“—raw dough. It’s such a shame—”

click

“—urging drivers to avoid—”

click

“—looking for a loft in the city, while Jennifer would prefer—”

click

“—unclear if there are any survivors of the initial crash.”

Eddie puts the remote down. He doesn’t make a habit of watching the news, but every once in a while, something catches his attention.

The image on the screen is an aerial shot of a massive, burning multicar pile-up. The 136 is on scene, but they can’t have been there long if the size and ferocity of the fire is anything to go by.

“—compounded by the explosion of a tanker carrying gasoline—”

Eddie winces. They’re going to be there all night if they don’t get more companies on scene. He reaches for the remote at the same time as the shot switches from the aerial to a reporter on the ground. She’s not what stops him from changing the channel. The crushed and smoldering Jeep behind her is.

And it’s—there’ve got to be a thousand silver Jeeps in Los Angeles. And Buck wouldn’t—why would he even be on the 405? So obviously it’s not Buck’s Jeep, even if it is the same color and probably year. It’s just a shitty little coincidence.

An unpleasant pressure begins to build in Eddie’s chest.

He’ll just—it’s not late. He doesn’t even have to tell Buck why he’s calling. Eddie scoops his phone off the table, navigates to his favorites, and taps Buck’s name. The call goes straight to voicemail. Eddie frowns and taps his name again. He gets the same result.

“—and rescue is under way, but I’m being told that until the fire is contained—”

Buck’s phone is dead, probably. Or—or he took Jee to that movie he was talking about so he had to turn it off. That’s—he’s sure that’s it. Eddie rubs at his sternum and stands. He’s just… feeling a little paranoid.

He calls Maddie. She answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Maddie,” Eddie says, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. “It’s Eddie.”

“Uh, hey,” Maddie says. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie winces. “Yeah, I think so. I was just wondering if you’ve talked to Buck tonight.” He’s being ridiculous. Buck’s fine.

“No,” Maddie says, obvious confusion in her tone. “Why, did something happen?”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “I just haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

Maddie hums thoughtfully. “He might’ve had a dental appointment earlier,” she says.

“Okay, thanks,” Eddie says. “I’ll probably just swing by the loft then.” There’s a pit in his stomach. Buck’s fine. At worst he has a cavity or two. He’s fine.

“Oh!” Maddie exclaims. “Hold on, let me check his location; I’ll save you the trip if he’s not there.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. Duh. He has Buck’s location too. He didn’t even need to bother Maddie with—

“Nope, sorry,” she says.

Eddie takes a breath. He’s fine. Buck’s fine. “Maddie,” he says slowly, “where is he?”

“Um, as of twenty-eight minutes ago, looks like he was driving through Culver City, on the 405, I think,” she replies. “Eddie, what’s going on?”

“Oh god,” he breathes. He can feel the blood draining from his face.

“Eddie?” Maddie asks. She’s starting to sound worried.

On the TV, the camera zooms in and pans across the wreckage. It reaches the Jeep. Hanging from the rearview mirror is a bigfoot air freshener that looks exactly like the one Chimney gave him as a joke a few months ago. It’s—

It’s Buck’s Jeep. He’s fine. He has to be fine.

“—understand that search and rescue efforts are underway, but as of right now, no additional survivors have been located.”

He could be dead.

Eddie’s knees give out beneath him. He lands heavily on the couch.

“Don’t turn on the news,” he says.

“What? Why?” Maddie asks.

“There was an accident on the 405,” Eddie replies mechanically. “I think it might be bad.”

On the other end of the line, Maddie sucks in a sharp breath. “Eddie—”

“It’s his Jeep,” Eddie says.

He’s okay.

He has to be okay.

He’s not okay.

He could be dead.

“I have to call Bobby,” Eddie realizes aloud. “He can—he can get in touch with IC.”

“Okay,” Maddie says shakily. “Okay. I’m going to call Sue. Maybe she—” Maddie cuts herself off with something like a gasp.

“I’ll call you when—” if “—I get ahold of him,” Eddie promises.

“Same,” Maddie replies.

They end the call without a goodbye.

Eddie tries Buck again, just in case. He doesn’t answer.

He can’t—

Buck has to be okay.

He has to.

Eddie takes a steeling breath and calls Bobby.

…

Eddie’s crawling out of his skin. The captain of the 136 has him on hold, and that’s already more than he’s obligated to do but—

But it’s Buck and Eddie’s fucking terrified.

The longer he waits, the farther afield his imagination goes.

He’s got a broken leg and a concussion; they’re taking him to Cedars-Sinai.

He wasn’t conscious when we found him. They’re airlifting him to UCLA.

I’m sorry, Diaz. He was DOA.

Eddie paces back and forth and tugs at his hair. He needs to do something, anything! He needs—

Flashing blue and red lights filter in through the window.

He’s dead.

He’s dead, and this time Eddie wasn’t there to coax him back.

He’s dead and they sent an officer to tell him in person and Eddie’s never going to catch his breath because Buck’s the one that taught him how to breathe after—

There’s a knock at the door.

He can’t do this. Eddie can’t do this. He can’t—

How is he supposed to go to work without Buck? How’s he supposed to tell Christopher? How is he ever going to get up in the morning again? How is his heart supposed to keep beating in a world devoid of Evan Buckley?

He opens the door.

His phone clatters to the floor.

“Buck,” he sobs.

…

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s bruised chest as he sleeps.

He’s alive.

He’s okay.

He’s got tangible proof right in front of him, but—

Eddie reaches out and brushes an errant curl from his forehead.

Buck is alive and breathing and sleeping in Eddie’s bed and he’s okay. But Eddie—

He rests his palm on Buck’s sternum and counts each inhale.

Buck’s here. He’s fine. Maddie knows and Bobby knows and Eddie’s got the living proof right in front of him, but—

Eddie shuffles a little closer until the heat of Buck’s skin is overwhelming against his own. He hooks his chin onto Buck’s shoulder and tries to memorize the strange shadows and highlights that are painted on his skin by the light of the moon.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

He could’ve—

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and shudders.

Buck’s alive and he’s right here, but Eddie can’t quite escape the moment when he was certain neither of those things would ever be true again. His breathing goes a little ragged, and his hands curl into fists.

“Eds?” Buck mumbles, eyes still closed.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath. “M’sorry, go back to sleep,” he whispers. The words are sticky and thick in his throat.

A small furrow etches itself between Buck’s brows. Eddie smooths it with his thumb. He drags his gaze back down Buck’s face and finds his eyes open and fixed on him.

“Eddie,” he whispers in the dark.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he lies.

Buck frowns. He watches Eddie for a long moment, then something in his expression shifts. “Switch sides with me,” he says.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Buck huffs a soft breath. “Just—trust me?”

And oh, Eddie does. He carefully climbs over Buck, who shuffles to his right to give Eddie more room.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

“Almost,” Buck replies.

He pulls Eddie flush against him and guides his head down onto his chest. Beneath him, Buck’s heart beats strong and steady.

“Oh,” Eddie exhales.

Buck runs his hand through Eddie’s hair and down his back.

Eddie closes his eyes and finally, he sleeps.

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[daycourtofficial]

I will follow you into the dark

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3k | warnings: character death, depictions of violence and gore, depressive tendencies shown

Summary: going through the five stages of grief after Azriel’s death is much easier with his shadows’ assistance

Alternate summary: “daycourtofficial stabs everyone in the heart” - @milswrites

Author’s note: this is heartbreaking as hell but I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever written. I legitimately sobbed while typing this. Tagging my pookie @illyrianbitch bc I sent her an early draft and her fic ‘when the heart is still longing’ inspired a scene in this

Cold. Ruthless. Calculated.

Words used to describe who Azriel was for the first five hundred years of his life. He wore a mask of indifference, a cold exterior to the world, letting them believe he was nothing more than the cruel exterior he showed everyone past his beloved family.

Until he met you.

You, whose extraordinary kindness and never ending patience for him helped him through the darkest pits of his soul.

It’s this past self he thinks about as the blade meets his skin, tearing through layers of muscle, blood spilling down his chest as it’s removed.

It’s this past self he reaches out to, begging for one moment to go back. To go back and save himself so much time. He would go back, his wings carrying him across Prythian, his landing harsh as he sprinted through your hometown.

He wouldn’t stop until he knocked on your door, his knuckles aching from how hard he would knock. He’d give anything to go back, even if it was just an extra forty-five minutes. He would run until his lungs burned, his legs barely able to hold himself up. He’d run down the cobbled street the two of you would walk down after a night at Rita’s, leaning against each other for support after a night of drinking.

He’d run past the bakery the two of you would meet at every Thursday morning, splitting pastries between the two of you and gossiping about your friends. He’d run up the stairs to your apartment, running up the steps you two walked thousands of times. He’d stop in front of that green door, the spot you two stood in for your first kiss.

He would knock and knock and knock, his fingers bleeding from how hard his knuckles were hitting the wood. He’d look at you as you opened the door, confused as to who he was and what he was doing there.

“You don’t know me, but in a few days I’m going to run into you at the bookstore. I’ll be with my friend Nesta and she’ll push me into you. She’s never admitted it, but I think she saw how I was staring at you and did it to force me to talk to you.

“You were so pretty, paging through some novel. I owe Nesta everything for pushing me into you, making me fall into the chair you were sitting in. It looked ridiculous - Nesta made sure to let Feyre broadcast it to everyone.

“I never cared. You were everything then, and you’ve been everything to me for over a century. What I wouldn’t give to come back here, to find you earlier, even just forty-five minutes. I’d give anything for more time with you.”

His eyes would peer around the apartment you moved out of decades and decades ago, moving all of your furniture into the house a ten minute walk from here. It would all smell like you, not a trace of him on you yet.

He would beg and plead with any god as to why he deserves just one extra minute of your time.

But he’s not in that apartment that you don’t own anymore, he’s somewhere in the present, he thinks. Azriel’s not sure where he is, but he reaches out towards you, trying to send every ounce of his love down that bridge that connects the two of you. He reaches a hand out, wanting to hold you one last time. He can feel your fear thrumming his chest as your hands frantically apply pressure to his neck, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

He interrupts your pleas, stroking his fingers on your cheek, smearing his blood across it.

You’re here, he thinks.

He loved making you blush, your own blood changing the color of your cheeks as he flirted with you. Now his own blood was coloring your skin, a last marking of himself on you.

Every word from his mouth caused the blood to gush from his wound, but he didn’t care. He was fighting for every breath, every word. He knew this was the end. He was just grateful to the Mother that the last thing he’d see in this life was you.

He chokes on his blood, coughing exacerbating the wound.

“In every life.”

He pulls himself up, using your shoulders to brace himself. He pulls your lips to his, soft and delicate, as if it’s the first time he’s kissing you all over again. As if you’re back on that cobblestone street, the two of you standing right in front of your door, a mess of limbs and lips.

The blood on his neck is traded for the tie he wore, one that you had complimented him on as you saw him. You had pulled him down to you by his tie, pulling him to your lips.

And now he was pulling himself up to you, a final goodbye.

He pours everything into it, pouring every last bit of himself through the string connecting the two of you, clinging desperately to that connection for every moment.

You kiss him back just as urgently, hands holding his wounds. His mouth is salty as your tears start running into the kiss, your hands sticky and warm with his blood.

Your kisses become more and more urgent as he starts losing energy, your sense of urgency increasing as he starts fading, that golden bridge connecting the two of you not as bright as it was with each passing moment.

You know he stopped kissing you back a moment ago, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. This should be a fairytale and true love’s kiss is enough to bring someone back.

You pull back, moving his face into your neck, unable to let go. You can’t hear anything except the echo of where your bond was, as if it clanged all the way down your body as it disconnected you from him. You feel someone grip your shoulders, desperate to pull you away from your mate. Your sobs are piercing as you tighten your grip on him.

He’s still warm, he can come back. Still warm, he’ll be back. You start rocking with him in your arms, your tears creating tracks in the blood on your face. A body is pressed to your back, large and warm, and large tan hands cover your own on Azriel’s face. You hear slight sounds, you think it might be Cassian, but you’re not sure.

You don’t feel his tears on your neck

All you feel is a deep, gaping hole inside of you where Azriel lives.

Lived.

Your breaths come fast and choppy, and you start jerking in Cassian’s arms, the feeling of him too much, too much. You felt suffocated, your powers boiling within you as his body grows colder.

His shadows slithered over you, several of them still remaining with their master. Their patterns were meant to be soothing, but it wasn’t working. Several of them cloak Azriel in mourning, their usual energetic nature dulled in the aftermath.

The air in the room changes as all the heat is sucked into your body, your skin blazing. It happens so quickly - you feel Cassian pull away from you as someone slides Azriel’s body from yours, somebody else rushing forward and tackling you to the ground. Instead of hitting hard flooring, your head hits grass, your body racing with adrenaline.

You look up to find Rhysand letting go of you before backing up. He has tears down his face, his eyes a muddier shade of violet than before.

“Let it out. Here. Now.”

Your skin is boiling, everything in you desperate for release. All you feel is the tendril of a lone shadow around your ankle as you burn. You can’t hear Rhys’s sobs, only the roaring of the fire as the grass catches the spark.

The next week goes by in a blur. A funeral - one where the town of black wore deep blue to honor your mate’s lifetime of sacrifice. A few shadows remain with you, the only reason you’re able to get through his funeral is with their touch.

“Hey Az.”

The grass is wet with dew, the early morning fog sticking to it. You don’t notice how damp the ground is beneath you as you sit next to him. Your hands grasp the grass next to his grave, the dirt over his grave too fresh for anything to be growing on top of it.

Your fingers thread through the blades, holding tightly, as if you can uproot them and pull him back to the surface, back to you. As if you kept digging you could find that bond nestled within you somewhere.

Your lip wobbles as you try to say something, anything. The various flower arrangements that surround you both speak of how many visitors he’s had.

He would tell you that the bouquet of orange lilies are from Elain, because those are currently in bloom in Day. He would tell you that the arrangement of blue and black came from Rhysand and Feyre, the flowers meaning ‘a great sacrifice’.

You can’t bring yourself to tell him how the world has become duller in his absence, how you hardly eat or bathe, hardly leave your home at all. How Nesta and Feyre take turns visiting you, ensuring you eat and bathe, getting you to move your legs at least once a day.

He’d be disappointed you weren’t taking care of yourself. He’d want you to continue on, despite the unbearable horrors that live in your chest. It felt like your entire ribcage were burst open, your pain and sadness leaking out of every pore for all to see.

Despite the fact that centuries together have led you here, at the end of the road. A road you happily traveled, knowing it would end here eventually.

You’d never regret choosing him, opening yourself up to this inevitable heartache.

You just regret every moment that happens now that he’s gone.

His shadows have followed you to the cemetery, their presence one you’re grateful for. You know they love you, much like Azriel did, and you’ll take any part of him you can cling onto.

You know they’ll leave eventually. No one understood them. Were they sentient beings? Or were they mere whispers of Azriel’s presence, an echo of an echo of his power, disappearing whenever they wish?

You sit, your back leaned against his tombstone, the words “beloved mate” pressing into your back. You moved over, wanting to be as close as possible to him. You don’t much care if the dirt sticks to your skirts. Nuala and Cerridwen won’t say anything to you. They felt his absence too.

You push your hand into the dirt, grasping at it in hopes he’ll grasp your hand back. All you feel are the shadows swarming your fingertips, imitating his soft touch.

-

You lay in your bed, the one that is much too large without your mate. The shadows cloak over you like a blanket, carrying his smell with them.

They missed him too.

You sealed some of Azriel’s clothes away, a magical enchantment that preserved their smell. You were grateful you had the shadows for now, however fleeting their presence may be.

Where Nesta and Feyre helped you bathe, the shadows helped keep your room clean. You stayed in the House of Wind, everyone agreeing you shouldn’t be alone during this time. That was weeks ago, you think.

You’re not really sure.

Time wasn’t moving like it used to anymore. Hours and days pass without your notice, a gray fog hanging over you at all times. You move through the monotony of grief, unaware of your surroundings or how you get anywhere half the time.

You blink and find yourself at his grave.

“It was supposed to be me,” you half yell at the grave marker, your blood getting warmer with your anger.

You hate it. You hate how everything he was, six centuries of a life well-lived, were boiled down to adjectives and monikers.

“Beloved mate.”

“Beloved brother.”

You hated those words, as if that’s all he were. The words don’t tell how he would pick you up when you fell asleep reading and carry you to bed, how he’d help you cheat every time you played cards against Cassian because you laughed so hard whenever he flipped the table, or how his fingers would brush the hair from your face when the two of you cooked dinner every night.

‘Beloved’ is nothing to how your chest felt when he’d come home and see you before he updated Rhysand after being gone so you knew he was okay.

‘Brother’ is not enough to convey how much he loved Rhysand and Cassian, how much love and sacrifice they poured into each other.

“You said I could go first. You promised. And now I’m here, alone, without you. And I don’t- I don’t know how to do it.”

You were yelling, screaming at this slab of granite. You kicked the flowers on the grave, watching them fly through the air as the petals fell.

Yellow for friendship.

“It was supposed to be me! Not you!”

You tug at your hair before you lose all your strength, sinking into the grass covering his grave. Your tears resemble morning dew as they cling to the grass, your knees becoming green with the contact. A few shadows wind through your hair, a few others bring back the bouquet you kicked, placing the flowers back where they were, albeit a bit damaged.

“You’ve never broken a promise before.”

Your voice is weak, the stone in front of you unresponsive to your breakdown.

-

Life moves on. Everyone feels Azriel absence - even Lucien, so full of words is quieter around you. They don’t know how to talk to you anymore, your life becoming more and more hollow as the mating bond in your chest decays, growing into a moldy, decaying thing that turned you rotten.

Why him? Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Why was it your mate - the one who sacrificed everything all of the time? Why wasn’t it Cassian or Rhysand or any of his spies?

Anyone but him.

You’d do anything.

The days keep moving, the forward progress of time a joke to you. Or perhaps you were the joke to the Mother. You slug through the days, finally able to bathe and dress yourself, but struggling to remember to eat.

Then the voices start.

It’s one soft voice, one you could hear in any lifetime, any world and know who it belonged to. His voice soft as ever delicately telling you to eat, coming and going on the wind around mealtimes.

You listened to it. You could never stay no to him, even if it was just an echo of him living in his shadows.

-

It was well known amongst his family members that Rhysand required his beauty sleep. Eight hours minimum of undisturbed slumber.

Which is why he is tearing through his house on a warpath at whoever is at his door at 2:30 in the morning. He angrily slung on a robe, harshly opening his door, ready to chew out who lay on the other side.

He did not expect to find you, panic stricken, shadows swirling around you.

Your sobs fill his ears, “they won’t stop, Rhys. They keep telling me everything. That Feyre’s asleep, Nyx is asleep and cooing. Cassian’s snoring, Nesta’s awake and brewing tea. They won’t stop.”

You start to collapse, but the shadows hold you up long enough for Rhysand to grab you and bring you in through the threshold.

He places you down on the couch and inspects the shadows swirling around you. He watches them flit about, some moving away, some circling you. He steps on one as it slithers past him, holding it in place.

He looks at you as he grabs the shadow, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, watching it wiggle in his grasp.

“Is this the first time they’ve spoken to you?”

You shake your head no, whispering, “they speak one at a time usually. And not like this.”

His gaze is sympathetic, sitting you on his sofa. “What do they usually say?”

You look down at your shoes, a sense of shyness overcoming you. You pick at your pants, “mostly to eat and take care of myself.”

You hum, remembering, “last week one of them told me Nyx was going to fall, which is how I caught him so quickly.”

Rhys’s eyes are penetrating as he gazes at you, his eyes are a curious shade of violet.

“Can we try something?”

-

Months later, you return home, the black of your clothes hiding the blood soaked within them. You traipse through the foyer, forgetting it was even family game night. Their conversations halt at your appearance. Despite wearing the same colors of the Night Court, the black looks like a deeper shade on you.

Or perhaps the shadows circling you made you look as if you belonged amidst them rather than the fae looking at you.

You nod to Rhys, your only form of communication these days. He nods back, a strained smile on his lips, devastated to watch what you’ve become, grateful he made a pact with Feyre to never continue on without her.

You don’t miss how his hand squeezes her a little too tight.

Your family watches as you step back into the shadows, the darkness consuming you once more. You prefer to stay in them instead of being alone. You linger in their embrace, their consumption of you everything you need, the remnants of Azriel’s scent lingering in this liminal space. You inhale his scent once more, tears stinging your eyes. In the darkness that surrounds you, never knowing where you end or begin, not knowing exactly where in the world you were.

Where nothing and everything existed, floating through your mate’s truest companions, you hear his voice calling to you, the soft tenor of his voice coming from a direction you can’t quite pinpoint.

Or perhaps it was only an echo.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.

[tojisun]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C0c8qJLp7Wd/?igshid=ODhhZWM5NmIwOQ==

This reminded me of biker!simon 😭❤️

DOESNT EVEN HAVE TO BE BIKER!SIMON BECAUSE THATS JUST SIMON FOR SURE <3 (dying at the idea that this is bimbo!reader making a tiktok video with simmy <33)

im droooolin thinking about simon doing this omg :((

“baby?” you ask, walking up to him. your phone’s already filming—just your camera app, to ensure that it doesn’t shut close on you—and you smile when simon instantly stops what he’s doing to turn his full attention to you.

“yeah?”

“you think you can bench me?”

simon blinks, the question taking him by surprise. then, with not a single hesitation, he says, “of course.” he reaches his hand out to hold yours, and tugs you to his lap. you clamber with ease, giggling at the ticklish feeling of his other hand holding you by your waist. “why? you want us to try?”

you hum, hooking your chin on his shoulder. “yes, please.”

simon rubs his palm all over your back, gently easing you into a sleepy sigh. “this for your lil tiktok?”

“mhm. s’that fine?”

“of course.” you feel him kiss the top of your head. “sounds fun.”

it takes a while before you two are able to sort out the logistics—his confused, “where exactly do i hold on?” receiving a confident, “well. here and here!”—before you two are finally in position.

“c’mere, darlin’,” he says and you round to his side, beaming down at him as he beckons you by lifting his arms up.

before you can give much thought to the sudden self-consciousness that’s clawing its way into your chest, simon’s already folding his arms down towards himself before pumping them up, lifting all that you are in the air.

you squeal, still taken by surprise, but the sound is devoured by simon’s laugh as he continues to lift you up and tug you down—consistent with the pace, his breath stable and not bearing any sign of being winded, and his arms flexing naturally instead of straining.

you’re not even any slimmer or petite, but there your big, muscular, and god of a man is, benching you with ease.

“oh my god!” you giggle, giddiness returning. “this is so-o cool, si!”

“yeah?” he says from underneath you, grinning so boyishly, it makes him look so much younger. “s’good to hear, baby. because this is fun f’r me too.”

“really?” you murmur, cheeks filling with warmth as the anxiousness returns.

“really,” simon replies, resolute. “i promise.”

he pumps his arms a few more times before finally resting them, with you collapsing on his chest in a heap of laughter. simon gathers you in his arms—thick and robust—and peppers kisses all over your face, making you laugh even harder.

(you edit the video and post bits and pieces—from the way simon tugged you to his lap and later when he bench-pressed you. it was only supposed to gain the traction of your followers, but it had blown up, racking hundreds of thousands of likes and views.

you even receive a, “??????” private message from johnny who sent you back your own post.)

[recuira]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five

chapter six | drunk. drool. darkness.

her pov;

I felt like an idiot. Like a fool.

When I came downstairs the following morning, with a pounding headache nearly blinding my vision, I spotted my mother collapsed on the couch rather than in her own bed. The kitchen was surprisingly clean, as well as the dining room table. She definitely didn't tidy up after that disaster of a night, so who did?

I walked past the stairs and into the kitchen, attempting to search for any kind of medicine to hopefully soothe the aching headache I had. I sorted through a kitchen cabinet before finding a small bottle of painkillers my mother was prescribed when her illness was first diagnosed. I placed two tablets in my mouth and dipped my head underneath the sink faucet, pouring a bit of water into my mouth to swallow the pills. Stepping back, I grabbed a pot from the stove, glaring at my sleeping mother.

I dropped it on the tiled floor.

In a split second, she shot up awake, groaning. "What the hell was that?!" She spat, grabbing her head while also covering her eyes.

"Good morning," I said as I forced a smile. I placed the pot back atop of the stove. "What happened last night?"

"Why the fuck should I know?" She cursed, laying back down.

"Where'd Buggy go?"

"Home?"

I frowned. I wasn't going to get any answers from her.

I ventured back upstairs into my bedroom where I could let my eyes settle in the cold and darkness. I closed the door behind me and approached my bed but before I climbed on it, I noticed a small green blur in the corner of my vision. Turning my head, I found the small turtle stuffed animal laying on the floor.

I treated my stuffed animals like they were living. To let them touch the floor rather than my own bed would be a sin.

Why was it on the floor?

Then it hit me.

Buggy threw it there.

I sat on my bed, holding the plushie close to my person. Last night, after dinner, I stormed up to my bedroom to be alone and to calm down due to the big fight my mother and I had. Then he came into my room to console me. Then-

"Oh my god."

I couldn't believe it. I practically threw myself onto him. Then he turned me down and after that, my mind drew a blank. I recalled vague bits here and there but the most clear occurrence was that of him leaving. Did I kick him out? Or did he leave willingly?

I touched my mouth with the stuffed animal. The feeling of his lips on mine was something I couldn't forget. For such a rough and rugged man, his lips and touch were so soft. I smiled to myself before falling onto the bed, my eyes drifting to a close.

Before I thought more about all of this, I needed to get rid of this headache.

-=-

I felt so stupid. Like a clown.

As I remembered more about the event, the more my self-esteem dropped. I never, in a thousand years, would have ever imagined myself getting drunk on red wine and then throwing myself onto a man with a red, clown nose. I frowned. His nose wasn't the issue. I liked him. I really did. He was kind and thoughtful for someone who used to be a bloodthirsty pirate. He went out of his way to please me which no one has ever done before.

And how do I thank him?

By making out with him and then kicking him out after he didn't reciprocate. I invite him over for dinner then throw him out.

This is why I hated alcohol.

It made stupid people do stupid things.

I was completely embarrassed with myself- so embarrassed, in fact, that I didn't reach out to Buggy for an entire month. How could I possibly be able to face himself after such an incident? Would I not mention it? Do I shake his hand and apologize and ask him to never bring it up again? Or do I kiss him again and see if my effort will mean something to him this time?

No, I'm an idiot. I ruined such a great friendship due to a few too many glasses of cheap red wine.

I blamed my mother for this entirely- and myself, of course. But if it weren't for her selfish and conniving personality, Buggy wouldn't have been invited for dinner. He and I would still be talking. I would see him everyday like I had been.

I vowed to my mother that as soon as I made enough money, I was moving out and cutting all ties with her. She simply laughed at me.

And so, for the past month, I kept my promise and sought out to look for jobs. Nothing dirty, of course.

I landed a waitress gig at a small run-down pub that hardly housed any customers other than drunken pirates and businessmen. I've only been here a few times before and it was the same pub I met Buggy at. Ever since that night, I haven't returned until today. The owner told me that the blue-haired piratehardly inhabited this bar which I was thankful for. I still needed to properly digest everything and when I was ready to confront him, I would. I just hoped it would be soon.

I was surprised to see that he didn't reach out either.

Maybe I scared him off.

As I cleaned off one of the tables, I tried to ignore the loud yells from behind me. Surprisingly, there was a huge flood of new patrons. My boss told me there was a soccer game and that's why everyone decided to eat and drink at the same place.

I didn't mind it too much. It meant more tips.

The rest of the night went by fast and just as we neared closing, I sat by myself in a corner booth, counting the change and money I made in just a few hours. One hundred and twenty berries. I smiled to myself, recounting to see if my math was correct.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-

The bell above the door jangled as someone walked inside. I kept my head low and proceeded to count before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"We're not closed yet, Y/N. Go assist that customer, please." The man pointed at a booth. "Now."

I huffed and stood up, slipping the loose change into a pocket in my apron. I grabbed the notepad and a pen and started towards the booth.

With a closed-eye smile, I greeted the patron. "Hello, what can I get for you tonight?

"Y/N?"

I opened my eyes and there he sat. "Buggy," I whispered.

I nearly cringed.

His long blue hair was tied in a loose ponytail with the same striped bandanna wrapped around his scalp. His makeup was streaking down his sweaty face. The buttons of his striped vest were misaligned with the wrong slots. His blue-painted fingernails were chipped. And the worst of it, he wrank of liquor.

He was swaying in his seat, his arms resting across the table.

"H-Haven't-" hiccup! "-seen you in a while," He smirked. "You miss me?" His words slurred and his green eyes were nearly swollen shut. I frowned at this and took a seat beside him, nudging him to the other side of the booth. He giggled and his arm lifted before slinging over my shoulder.

"What's going on?" I whispered, hoping my boss wouldn't see me.

"What? Nothing!" He murmured.

"You're shitfaced. Why?"

"I dunno'. Got bored..." Buggy hummed and smiled up at me. His fingers began to mess with my hair. "Yer' working now?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Well, I wouldn't know! I haven't seen you in years..." He pouted.

"It's been a month."

"Whatever. Get me a beer, will ya?"

I laughed. "No! You're already too far gone. I'll get you a water." I pulled myself away from him and stood up, making my way behind the counter. Pouring him a glass of water, I watched as he proceeded to hiccup, playing into the drunkard stereotype all too well. Why was he like this? I've never seen this before. Why did he drink so much? As I approached him, he reached for me. I whacked his hand away and slid the cup toward him. This time, I sat across from him.

He glared at the drink before chugging it all, some water dripping down his stubbled chin. I crossed my arms and examined him. He was a complete and utter mess. It almost disgusted me to see him in this light. Someone I respected so much was now stooping to the same level as my mother.

"Buggs, what's happening here?"

"What?" He tilted his head. "Yer' supposed to be my waitress. You haven't taken my order yet," The pirate grumbled, reaching to grab at the paper menu. He squinted his eyes as he read it. "Get me a sandwich. With... uhm, oh! Meat, cheese, and lettuce." He met my gaze and smiled widely, exposing every single tooth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," I demanded, pointing down at the table. "Is this some ploy to get back at me?"

"W-What? Back at you?" He snickered. "Yer' cute, kiddo."

"Don't call me that."

"Cute or kiddo?"

"Both."

"What would you rather me say?" He smirked and leaned forward, gesturing his hand for me to get closer. I did, also leaning in. "Your- hehe, your tits look amazing in that top?"

I gasped and pushed him back. "Fuck you!"

"What?! Which would you rather me call you?" He pursed his red-stained lips together.

"By my fucking name, you idiot."

"Okay! Y/N," He started, letting out a soft burp. "Where's my sandwich?"

"You'll get it once you start talking."

"I've been talking! I can't win with you." His eyes rolled. "Women."

I hit him atop of the head this time and he yelped, immediately shrinking down as his arms hovered over his head.

"You're the one who kicked me out! Why are you still acting so mad... I'd think you'd be happy to see me again, but- but, I was wrong..."

"I am happy to see you but-"

"You are? Really?" The look on the clown's face broke my heart. He was so surprised, so shocked to find out that I missed his company. “I-I’m glad.” His head dropped for a moment and he looked down at his lap. “I’ve been, uh, g-going through a lot.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” He let out a loud hiccup then clutched his throat. “That one hurt.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

His broad shoulders shrugged back. “Maybe I will. I just need something- uh, something to eat.”

Getting something in his stomach might help him sober up fast but my mom always told me that the only way to sober up was through time. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

I got up from the table and began to walk toward the kitchen but a floating hand grabbed at my wrist. It gave my arm a tight tug before I looked back at Buggy. I raised an eyebrow but he just gave me a toothy grin then let go. Venturing into the kitchen, I let the chef know that it was the last meal of the night. He was reluctant because it meant he needed to put out his cigarette but he gave me a firm nod and told me to wait a couple of minutes. I agreed with him then went to peek on the blue-haired clown. He rested his head on his hands, his eyes closed. His long eyelashes casted a dim shadow over his eyelids. His lips parted, a small drop of drool running down his chin. Was he asleep?

Before I could admire him any further, the chef tapped on my shoulder and handed me the tray of food. A sandwich sat upon the plate with potato salad to the right of it. I thanked him and brought the meal to Buggy. I set it in front of him then took a seat.

“Buggy?” I nudged his shoulder. “Your food is here.”

“I’m not hungry.”

What? “What? You just said you were.”

“I lied. I want to go home.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Because the other bar kicked me out ‘cause I had too much to drink,” He mumbled into his arm. “I wanted to drink more but then I- I saw you. So I wanted to stop.”

“You stopped drinking because of me?”

“I was drinking because of you.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together. What was he babbling about now? Before I could protest, he reached forward, grabbing half of the sandwich with a severed hand. He raised his head and took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds then swallowed. He ate the half then slid me the plate. So much for not being hungry.

I smiled to myself and started to eat, taking the last sip of the glass of water I had brought to him. I finished eating then wiped my mouth with a napkin.

Taking a few bills out of my pocket, I placed it on the table to cover the meal.

But then it hit me.

I could pay him back.

“Buggy, I have great news,” I exclaimed with a wide grin and pulled the loose change out of the apron pocket, the various coins rocking against the table before falling flat. The pirate sat up, a yawn escaping his mouth.

“What?”

“I can pay you back now! I have more than enough!”

“I don’t want you to,” He whispered, sliding it toward me. “I have more than enough. You’re the one who needs it, not me.”

“But you said I could pay you back. That was our deal.”

“Y/N-“

“Take the money, Buggy. Please.”

His green eyes met mine for a split second before he reluctantly gave in. He swiped the money toward him and folded the bills before hiding them away in his pocket. I smiled at him, taking the change he didn’t want to keep.

I looked at him, staying quiet. Was he already sobering up? He was talking normally now; he was hardly slurring his speech. “Can I walk you home?”

He cocked a grin. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Please?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright.”

I clocked out of work and helped Buggy out of his seat. On the walk back to his abode, Buggy leaned against me. My arm wrapped around his shoulders as I guided him down the street. He stumbled with each step and if it weren't for me, I was sure he would've fallen. The man relied on me heavily.

The front door opened with a loud bang. A wave of cold air brushed over me and I shivered. The pirate buried his face into my neck. A red blush washed over my face before I helped him onto his bed. He giggled to himself and extended his foot. I raised an eyebrow.

"Take my shoes off, please." He whispered, his body falling back to lay flat on the bed with his leg still straight out.

I knelt down and slipped each of his boots off. I set them to the left of the nightstand. Standing up, I closed the front door and dropped my backpack beside it. I approached the man and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, turning to look down at him. His eyes were closed. "Buggy, I'm gonna get going now. We can talk tomorrow, okay? When you're sober," I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you need anything before I go?” I was met with silence. I let out a small huff, my hand resting on his leg. I caressed it. I then pulled my hand away but before I could stand up, his hand took my wrist and he gripped it, tightly. I looked back at him. He was now sitting upward.

"Please, no. Please stay the night," He begged, lunging forward. His head fell into my lap and his arms wrapped around my waist. "Don't leave again. Please."

I froze. My eyes grew wide, my arms levitating above the man.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I nodded my head even though he couldn't see me. "Okay, okay." I dropped my hands to rest on his back, tenderly stroking the fabric of his vest. He let out a satisfied hum and remained completely silent. While it wasn't the most comfortable position, I stayed still because it was cozy for him.

I've never seen him in this mood before. I thought alcohol would make him an angry man, maybe rather devious or feisty, but no. It made him sad. It made him vulnerable. Alcohol took his rough exterior and melted it away, revealing a soft side I've never seen before.

His face nuzzled into my thigh.

I listened to his light breathing and brought my hands up to run through his thick blue hair. I was surprised his hair was so long. It was nice, though. It was silky smooth as well.

"Y/N," Buggy whispered into my leg.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for disappointing you."

A frown stayed on my face. I felt my eyes and nose sting. "What?"

"I've done nothing but trouble you. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I would be this much of a burden in your life. I thought I could help but-"

"What are you going on about?"

His head raised and revealed a soaking wet face. A stream of tears ran down his face, his makeup smearing even more than before. I gasped. He sniffled and grimaced. "I look so stupid, don't I?"

"You don't, Buggers. I'm just trying to figure out why you're crying," I whispered, raising my head to cup his cheek. He leaned into my palm and gave me a small, sincere smile. This was hurting my heart.

"We haven't spoken in a month."

"I know, I know. It's my fault, I-"

"Did you just not want to see me anymore?"

I instantly shook my head. "No, no, no. That's not it at all." I wiped a few tears away with my thumb.

"I thought I fucked up so badly," He started, taking a deep breath. "When you came onto me like that, I felt time stop. Literally nothing else mattered to me in that moment other than you. I didn't even fucking care if my heart stopped beating. If being with you was my last moment alive, I'd die a happy man." I sucked in my lower lip, my eyes burning more. "But it felt wrong. You were drunk, p-probably for the first time in your life. I didn't want to take advantage of that. You weren't thinking straight at all. I-I didn't want you to-to regret it the next morning."

"Buggy-"

"You have no idea- no fucking idea how badly I've wanted that. Since the very moment I've laid my eyes on you, I realized there was nothing more I could ever want. You're perfect. A literal angel." I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he continued to speak, making my heart both ache and jump. "My life was so dark before you. I was blinded by greed and-and hatred. I was a cruel man. But seeing you smile, I forget what for, but your smile erupted something in me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about anything else in life other than you. I did some fucked up shit and I feel like you have a right to know." He swallowed then turned his head, facing away from me.

"What do you mean?" Those words scared me.

"Look in the nightstand. There's a book, I think it's the second one. Open it and see for yourself." He sat up and pulled away from me, wiping his nose and eyes. "No more lies or secrets. I want to be completely open and honest with you about everything. If our friendship continues, then I want honesty. You deserve that."

"You're scaring me, Buggy," I murmured and leaned forward, reaching for the drawer. I yanked it open and sorted through the stack of novels. I grabbed the second one and set it in my lap. "Can I just say-"

"No, please look. I need your opinion on me after you see this."

I was horrified.

What was so revolting in this book that he felt the need to hide?

I looked at him, frowning, before dropping my head. I admired the cover of the novel before peeling it open. My eyes widened.

"Read it out loud," The man instructed as he toyed with his bottom lip. He stared at me, not even seeming to blink.

My thumb dragged over the paper to smooth out the crumpled words. “She has the kindest smile. Her generosity is beyond that of anyone I know. She makes me believe in the good of humanity again." I repeated as I read the sentences scattered on the small note of paper. I smiled to myself. "Did you write-"

"Read the next one."

"I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat." I felt my lower lip quiver as salty tears began to cloud my vision. I used my free hand to rub my eyes before I continued. "A-And she caused me to see the world in color. Everything was so bland and dry but the second I saw her, I could see the blue in the sky and the pink petals of cherry blossoms. I could see the light at the end of a tunnel. If I was drowning, I know she would be able to rescue me just from her words of encouragement."

"Do you get it now?" He asked, placing his hand on my knee.

"You like me?" I asked, hesitant.

"What? Really?" He said with a weak laugh. "Of course I do. But I've known you for so long, Y/N. Much longer than you knowing me. I've followed you before, s-stalked you."

I gasped. Oh. I didn't get that from the writings. "You did?"

"Yeah, I did. I've been scheming for months. Trying to figure out how to talk to you o-or get you to say hello to me. Then at the bar-"

"I said hello to you. Were you there because of me?"

"Yeah, it wasn't mere coincidence."

"Woah," I said in awe, my facial expression or tone of voice hiding how I was truly feeling. "That's- wow."

"If you want to leave, I understand. It's a lot, I know. But I promise I've never properly stalk- well, I-I don't know. I just saw you and I knew I needed to know you. I needed you in my life."

"When did you first see me?"

"A fish market. You were giving a kitten some of the scraps."

"I don't even remember that," I admitted with a light chuckle.

"I'm not a creeper pervert or anything, I swear. I've-"

"Buggy, stop panicking. I'm flattered, if anything. I don't hate you. I don't think differently of you either."

He leaned into me, his red nose touching the tip of my own. He wore a wide smile on his face. "Really?" I nodded my head and rested my hand atop of his.

"It's a lot to take in but I'm not creeped out. I just- I had no idea."

"There's a reason I still have a bounty,” He remarked.

I laughed softly. "Very true."

"Do you understand why I was so worried? I thought all of that progress was wasted. I did want to, I really did. God, I wanted to, but-" The man continued to ramble on before I pressed my palm to his red-painted mouth. He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm glad you didn't stay. Genuinely, I would have regretted it. Not because of you, but because I would want to remember a moment like that. I never want to drink again so I can be fully aware of everything we do together," I said as I removed my hand. "I didn't contact you because I was embarrassed with myself. I felt like an idiot. I thought I completely ruined everything. I also wanted to properly deal with my emotions. I wanted to figure out what I felt."

"And what do you feel?"

"The same as you do, though maybe not as extreme."

The pirate cracked a cheeky grin and nudged me.

"But I don't want to rush anything, please. If we do decide to do anything," I cleared my throat. "I want to take things slow. I moved too fast that night and look what happened."

"No, no, yeah. I feel the same way. No rush."

"Do we have a deal?" I extended my hand.

"A deal for what?"

"To do this but take things slow."

"To do what?"

"Buggy, you know what I mean."

"I want to hear you say it."

I huffed and pulled my hand back before he quickly grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. "We can go further with our relationship. How is that?" I smiled.

"Hmm, what do you mean? I'm a little slow, you'll need to spell it-" I kissed him for a split second then pulled back. The expression on his face was priceless. "That's pretty self-explanatory,” He hummed, grinning.

"Good."

"Can I do it again, though?" His hand reached to cup my chin.

"Once," I whispered.

Buggy closed the gap, tilting his head to be able to kiss me properly. It was short but sweet. When he pulled away, he fell against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder. My arms enwrapped his figure and I pulled him close. "Are you tired?" I asked, playing with his ponytail.

"Mhm," He responded, a soft yawn parting from his lips. "You're still staying the night, right?"

"Yeah, I am."

The blue-haired man pulled away from me and swept his legs over the side of the bed "I'll sleep on the floor, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

I grabbed his arm. "Nonsense, it's okay. I get the left side, though."

Buggy grinned, nodding his head. "Yes, ma'am."

I peeled my shoes off, setting them next to his as he began to unfold the sheets. He pulled the blankets back and climbed underneath them. I crawled beside, pushing my legs under the thin blankets. Turning to face Buggy, I tucked my arm under the pillow.

"I'm sorry for being like this, by the way. For being drunk."

"It's okay, just try to stop. If it's okay."

"It is," He whispered while stretching his arm out, slyly letting it sling over my waist. I smirked.

"You were kind of funny, though."

"How so?"

"Slurring your words, repeating yourself, tripping everywhere."

"What can I say? They don't call me a clown for nothing."

"I think the nose and makeup gave you that reputation."

"Nose?" He cocked an eyebrow upward.

"D-Did I say nose? I meant, uh, your hair!"

"Mhm, sure." Buggy tugged me toward him, my face coming into contact with his chest. He let out a groan as he made himself comfortable. "I hope this isn't moving too fast. I'm cold."

"No, this is perfect," I replied with a sheepish smile.

My eyes closed and I shrugged my shoulders back while exhaling a sigh. I was cold but the warmth of his body soothed my goosebumps. I rested my forehead against his abdomen and felt myself beginning to drift off. His chin plopped upon my head and his hand combed through my hair.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" He whispered, his voice raspy as exhaustion took over.

"We'll figure that out when tomorrow arrives. For now, I need sleep."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

I shook my head, whispering a simple 'no'.

"Sorry, I'll let you sleep."

I smirked to myself and tucked myself closer into him.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N," He mumbled as he kissed atop my head.

With those words and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing, I found myself falling asleep. I ignored the stench of alcohol coming from his person and focused on everything else I enjoyed about him.

In one last resort to get comfortable, I turned over, pressing my back against his front. My legs entangled with his and his arm slipped underneath my own. He held my hand.

The last thing I remember was him placing a kiss on the back of my head and then I fell unconscious.

[bored-storyteller]

Ok this is totally self-indulgent that's off the canon, but I wrote that and now you can find it here. It is related to this and the continuation of this. Of course you are free to ignore it.

Sally Face, Sal Fisher x Reader

The sun in the night

"It's me."

If you hadn't noticed how much his fingers were shaking, now you surely heard it in his voice.

"It's really me." Sal insists, because he doesn't know what else to do.

You are there, in front of him, illuminated only by a cold artificial light, the road is empty except for you two, and you hold three large sunflowers in your arms.

"Don’t be afraid." He keeps telling you, because that's what he expected to find in you: amazement, fear, disbelief.

Yet he sees none of this in your gaze, or maybe he does, but not in the sense that he - people - would expect.

You are motionless in front of him, he almost thinks that you are not breathing, and perhaps he fears more than you the consequences of his reckless gesture, of having sought you out.

"I ... I'm back ... if you can say so ..."

Oh, how much he would like to ask you not to cry. But what right does he have? And why are you crying? For him, or for the wounds he inflicted on you? How much he wished things had been different between you two, a trip to the underworld is not enough to start all over again.

Your tears are silent, they slide down your cheeks, on your expressionless lips. And you're looking at him like you're waiting, waiting to see him disappear, maybe.

"Please ..." he finally begs, in a whisper. Sal knows he cannot expect anything, but he feels cold, cold and lonely in being so distant from you. He felt your pain, he felt it inside of him, and he would pay any cost - more than he has already done - to hold you in his arms.

Now, a word would be enough for him, just one, even a sigh.

But you don't speak, you just stand there looking at him, with wet eyes and clenched teeth.

And then, as if you were a dream, he sees you reach out to him; extend your arm in the direction of him. He doesn't hesitate in his moves, he hardly thinks when he approaches you.

Your palm is now on his chest, he holds it gently over his heart, his living heart beating in his ribcage.

"I'm here ... it's me ..." he repeats again, like a broken record, without daring to look up at you.

Even just your passive touch is a refreshment to him. At least you are there, at least you are in front of him, at least you know that he really is there.

And there would be so many things he would like - no, he should – to tell you, but like a raging river in a too small crack he can't get anything out. Everything is too important and nothing is enough. He has the distinct feeling that one wrong word can make you go away, forever, and a thousand deaths won't be enough to bring you back to him.

But he has to tell you something, he has to talk to you, he can't drop everything out of cowardice, he can't.

"I love you."

They are not his words, they are yours. The first words you say to him after his return, the first time he hears your voice.

Ba-bum.

His heart is heavy and light at the same time, it sinks into his bowels and rises until it becomes tears in his eyes.

He looks at you now, his lips parted so he can breathe under the mask. And you cry with all the emotions painted on your face as your hand squeezes against his ribs.

And if you have managed to stop the world, it is still you with a sweet whisper to recall everything, again.

"Believe me ..." you beg him. It is a desperate prayer full of all the pain you have felt. “Believe me please, I love you. I've never stopped doing it and I won't be able to stop, please ... "

And he believes that you could continue forever, in that frightened plea. You don't ask him to reciprocate, but to believe you, because he didn't.

"I know it." He interrupts "God, I know ... I know and ..." And he's so sorry he didn't believe you. How many times he would have taken back this words, while he was thinking of you, while he perceived in his own soul your suffering, your remorse for not having been able to make him understand it in time, for not having made him feel loved enough.

He would like to tell you all this, he would like to tell you that he was wrong to trust himself more than you.

But your hand on his chest is now gripping his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to hold him, as if he could disappear at any moment, and who guarantees otherwise?

He has already left you.

And you're not even expecting him to really stay, you just want him to know that you love him, and you love him with a sweet, tender, strong love that goes beyond even death itself.

"And I love you too." And it is the only important thing he has to say to you now, when he sees you collapse under the weight of an excruciating sadness that you have endured without perspective.

"Sal ..." His name in your cry sounds like the lament of a puppy left alone, and you finally come back to your home. You are against him, in his arms, your wet face hides against his neck, his blue hair softly covers your head.

And he holds you tight, he finally protects you, feels you real, in flesh and blood.

"I have so many things to tell you ... to explain and ..."

"I don't want to know ..." you whisper, never leaving your shelter "I don't want to know how you did it, or why ... if it's a dream, I don't want to know. Just stay with me. "

He understands, and he accepts it.

Your head is resting on his shoulder like when you were sitting together by the lake years ago. Your hand looks for his, and caresses it, like the last time you met, and like the first time you met, the sunflowers shine among you.

[pinkriaji]

✨️Reminder✨️

Accept that you are everything you need

Todays post i hope is able to reach alot of people, because i want everyone in this community to know, just how powerful we are all are.

I believe that we all are the creators of our own realities, but rn, I don't want you to think of my reality, your friends reality, your parents reality. I want you to fully think about your reality.

As long as you are conscious, you are in control of your reality. What you believe, is going to be reflected.

I'm not only talking about the magical things, but I'm also talking about the things that happen in your everyday routine, the most common ones that are just normal for you.

I hope I'm explaining what I'm trying to say.

Insecurities, anxiety, fear, feeling desperate, confused and disoriented are not "bad, negative emotions" or "low vibrations" they are EMOTIONS, that come with other emotions in the package that we agreed on when we were born. Your emotions are important, they are needed, and naturally you have to express them in a healthy way.

Let's not villanize emotions, they have no power in a manifesting pov, but they are powerful in the sense of feeling them, don't be scared of them, use them, let them guide you and uncover they way you feel and why you feel that way.

I'm tired of people shaming emotions, they are important because we are living.

If you are new in the community, start by realizing that you are God and limitless, I can assure you that when you accept this, truthfully in your heart, the rest will follow. You have everything you need because you have the key of limitless creation.

So many people in this community, sort of craft this idea in beginners, that they need certains creators, methods, courses, challenges to FINALLY get what they want and tbh I find that heartbreaking, because I was once, one of those beginners, who felt dumb, stupid, desperate and poor for not being able to get coaching or special prizes, and I can say alot of us, are met with people belittling us, bully us, and damn even denigrating us for having a hard time changing our past beliefs.

⚠️I'm not hating any other creator who have started their own small business in this community, we all have the right to do that, but my problem lies in the fact, that some people ask for this really big amount of money, and then they just say what has been said a thousand times in manifestation books, posts and conferences.

I am sorry, if you were made to belive you need anything else.

I assure you, you only need yourself, read posts, talk to creators, watch videos, but not to get what you want, but to expand your knowledge, so you can then start to pick and choose your beliefs.

You got this!!

[dark-night-hero]

Oh gawd that "without you/me" imagine... Madame Ping better be regretting everything once MC's death is revealed. Imagine if Zhongli succumbed to erosion because of that, and now all of the adepti must put their own leader to rest—especially Xiao, whom was equally devastated by this turn of events. Venti implied there was someone interested in MC too so what if that was Xiao (gawd what if he also succumbs to karmic debt—)? Now Barbatos remains as the last of the Original 7, the supposed weakest

: Sorry for the late answer/reply. Had to go on a brainstorming for this one. And hehehe, I've made my convo with my cousin like a notepad because I kept dumping idea in it. Well I suppose this is the last part of the "without me/you" following the other imagine.

: without me | without you | part 3? imagine

"Oh Morax, I've heard you've retired. What business do I owe you to come into me like this?" Tightening his hold upon the guy.. a fellow being's neck, Zhongli- Morax hold his polearm an inch away from his face. "Where are they?" "Who? Ahhh wait pffff HAHAHAHA urgh-!" Without any tind of hesitation, Morax trusted the blade of his polearm on his stomach. "I asked you." "Where. Are. They." This time, his amber iris glowed much like of a dragon, sending fear down the mans spine and yet having no regrets upon realizing he had accomplished his goals already. "Haven't you heard the news Morax? They're dead. I killed them with my own hands while you were away-"

Imagine the way earthquake were once again frequent in the land of Liyue to the point were it reaches the Harbor. It wouldn't be that much of a big deal at first if it was just once in a while, but nowadays, it goes three times a day, sending fears in the heart of the citizens that lived in it.

Imagine at the same time, deep within the hidden caves in one of the oldest standing mountains of Liyue was their former Archon. Slowly, but surely little by little succumb to erosion as he suffered grieving for his beloved. Questioning every decisions he have made so far and regretting most of it. He should have been there for you, he shouldn't have leave you alone. He shouldn't have let you go, he shouldn't have made that deal that made the two of you further away from each other.

Imagine the pain of loosing you. You who he cherished the most now gone just like that, while he wasn't looking. Imagine the pain, the way a terror roars of a dragon who have lost his mate echos and crumbles the cave. The way the ground shake as he released the feeling of grieving, frustration, anger and self hatred. The way he started lossing himself and the only thing that manages to keep him calm was the flower field that was slowly turning into a wreck upon his own doing.

Imagine the way upon having another harsh session of destroying everything in sight which was nothing but rocks and flowers. He would calm down and cry, asking himself why and why and why. A never ending why. Why does it has to be you. He was fine to admire you from afar, he was fine if you were happy with someone else, he was fine as long as you are happy and not suffering. As long as you're alive and well, he doesn't mind. He was able to bare it for hundreds of thousands of years upon the contract. But now that you were gone. What more does he have?

Imagine if it aren't for you, he wouldn't have change. He wouldn't have much interest to other being, he would still be that same old aggressive God ready to make chaos along the way. He was never interest in making friends, he was never interested in being nice, nor taking people and protecting them. It was all on you, it was you who taught him to be nice, not to take everything for granted. It may not be thay obvious, but looking back. You were the only reason why he decided to keep going. He who aren't that much interest in anything, manage to find every little things matter, all because of you.

Imagine the way Zhongli... the way Morax started loosing himself. The moment he heard.. he moment he felt that you're gone. He just lost it. The way he started looking for the one who did this to you, the one he sealed all those years ago. He was careless, he should have killed him long ago. It was all his fault. Why you were hurting, why you were gone. It was all on him.

"I'm sorry." Kneeling in front of the messed flower field, he grip on one of the flowers. "I'm sorry." He repeated. "My love. Forgive me." He cried and then snap out of the dazed form he was in. Wondering for a moment what he was doing before looking down on his hands only to find a crushed flower in hand, he then flinch. Gently laying down the dead crushed flower in hand, looking at the messed up field, his amber iris where shaken, then he let out a shaky sigh. "What a mess. Let's get it fixed up. They're going to get mad seeing this mess on their lair."

"We need to end things as soon as possible." It was Cloud Retainer that spoke up. "We.. We can't face him alone." "But we need to try. Rex Lapis condition is getting worst. The more time we let by, the more he wouldn't be able to rest in peace peacefully." "What are your thoughts about this, Conqueror of demons?" All eyes turned upon the said Adeptus who have been silently listening on the meeting. "I.. I won't do it." "Alatus." "I'm not participating." He firmly said. "But-" "None of this would have happened if you just let them be in the beginning." "You-" "You can do whatever you want, but I'm out of this." He look at the fellow Adeptus coldly.

Imagine the silence after that. Then one Adeptus spoke up. "I don't get it." It was Streetward Rambler. "It was you who lost your master, who can you cling close to the one who killed her?" "Were you the only one who lost someone?" Xiao asked back. "You lost my master, I lost my master. We all lost her who was very dear to us." "Then why.." Why do you keep defending them just like Rex Lapis? "Why? Because you aren't the only one who lost someone! Just like you, (First name) lost someone very dear to them. They were my master friends too! If only, if only you let them repent the proper way. No one wanted this to happen! Do you think my master would be all happy knowing what you did? No! She wouldn't be! You said you were doing this make them know what they felt when you lost my master?"

"The moment they lost my master within their own hands, the pain was greater and never the same with us! And what? What did you do after that? Force Rex Lapis to stay out of them? For what? For greater pain you might never experience? Because of what? Because you thought that that would make them repent on their actions? They never wanted this to happen! And now what? Rex Lapis has to see them only from afar! Rex Lapis only get to admire them from afar! Do you think my Master would be happy to see this? All happening because of her death? No. I don't think she would be happy, never. If she have known that her death would result like this, she must be disappointed."

Imagine the way Xiao left after that, leaving the rest of the Adeptus on nothing but silence. The Streetward Rambler left with nothing but bundles of regret, little by little realizing her mistakes. Although it wasn't wrong, none can say it was right too. After all, everyone has different way of grieving, in this case, in her case. Maybe she went too far. Hurting and affecting so many lives and love in the process.

"And who you may be? As far as I can remember, My Lover is yet to return, let alone does they have any friends at the moment." "Rex Lapis." "Rex Lapis?" "They're gone." Although they were aware that the being right in front of them were faking kindness right in front of them, just like the first time they've met. As soon as those words left on their side, those amber iris went half lidded with silent rage of a dragon that was ready to blast at them at any moment. "Apologies but I just happened to fixed everything in here. My lover wouldn't appreciate coming back home with their lair all messed up so I would like to ask you to le-" "They're gone, Morax."

Imagine the way those amber iris widen, the sudden ache on his head and the never ending pain on his chest return, at the same time. A glimpse of what happened not too long ago came into mind. They're dead said the laughing bastard, I killed them with my own hands. Have you seen the way they look Morax? Ahhh just thinking about it gives me shivers HAHAHA. Stop. You're not dead, you just went away for a moment like you always did in the past. You just said goodbye to him not to long ago for a short venture. You asked him to look after your lair after giving him a quick peck on the lips. They're dead Morax, I made it sure if I can't have them. Then no one else can. I gave them a choice long ago, but they kept rejecting me, and then you came and they seems to have forgotten about me. "No, they're not dead." "Morax-" "Utter a single word about my beloved and I swear you're goin to meet your demise!"

Imagine the more they try to reason it out, the painful his headache is. The more they kept telling him you're gone, that you're dead. The more he felt rage. Because why do they kept telling him you're dead? Aren't you by his side not to long ago? Who are these beings even? How do they get in here? Where are these memories coming from? Who was the voice inside his head? You'll do just fine without me, My love. Are you really dead? He couldn't believe it, he couldn't accept it. No, fuck. No.

Imagine, the more he thinks about it. The more he looses it, black embers starts to swirl around him, his horns and dragonic teeth showing, his amber iris glowing. Morax, did you ever love me? Just like that, something inside him snap and went out of control. They're dead. They're gone. In a blink of eye, the moment he took his eyes off them, they're gone. Suddenly everything went quiet, just like a calm before the storm. Except this was nothing like a storm, it was a disaster. As the ground starts to shake, the Adeptus were on their guard. But the moment Zhongli.. Morax turn around, the moment they saw those clouded amber iris, they could only think of something. They couldn't win. Because those, those were the eyes of someone who have lost everything, they held no fear, just vengeance. It was destructive, so destructive.

Imagine, despite the fact that even though he was no longer in his prime, despite the effects of erosion, he was still powerful and all mighty. Even with the adeptus trying to snap him out of it, they knew it was too late. And the only way to stop Morax, Rex Lapis was to kill him as fast as possible. That way they would be able to at least end his sufferings quickly as possible. And yet here they are barely hanging on in front of him, their friend. The same friend that they didn't notice was suffering in silence all this time, all because they took you away from him. Making them wonder what kind of friend they were in the first place as they remembered Xiao's word.

Imagine not to far away from the scene was Xiao, watching his Lord, Rex Lapis, someone he had admire for a very long time fall into pits of despair thus is now suffering from erosion and must be put to rest as soon as possible before he was corrupted. Thus imagine the pain for as soon as he steps in the field, those amber iris met his yellow ones. "Zhongli sama." "I don't know what you're talking about, Alatus." Replied Morax as soon as Xiao spoke.

"Zhongli sama, this is enough." "Stop calling me that- I have no memories of taking that persona." "(First nam-)" "Don't. Don't you dare utter the name of my beloved." "(First name) wouldn't want to see you like this, Zhongli sama." "I said stop calling me that name!" "It's okay to cry, Zhongli sama." There was silence after that, only the two of then staring at each other. While he, Morax have obvious wounds and bruises all over his body, Xiao who just came in the scene was all well.

Imagine the way Xiao look a step forward, he wasn't afraid at all. All because he knew deep down, the god, the Archon he respected and was loyal to was deep within the being right in front of him still. "Zhongli sama. It's okay to take a rest now." With every step he take, Morax just stayed still, those clouded amber iris were obviously shaken. "Zhongli sama..-" "Zhongli.. Is the name they've given me." "You remembered." Little by little, light returns to those amber iris. "Yes. Of course it's the game they've given me." Little by little, he started to be calm.

Imagine as Zhongli calms down, that didn't take away the headache he was having, although this time, everything was far clearer. But perhaps with the erosion effect, he left himself getting weaker as moments passed by. Still realizing his outburst and the beins he have end up hurting due to his unstable state. "I-" "It's alright, Rex Lapis." It was the Cloud Retainer. "Despite being blinded by rage, you were unconsciously holding back aren't you?" She chuckle, looking at the direction of the unconscious fellow adeptus. "I know it's too late, far too late but. She- we went too far, didn't we." "No yo-" "You've done enough for this world, don't you think, Zhongli. No, Morax?" There another uninvited yet familiar face came in the scene, Venti or should we say, Barbatos.

Imagine the silence once again, but this time, Morax was rather surprised but eventually let out a sigh before falling back on the ground if it wasn't for Xiao who manage to prevent him from galling back into the ground. He was feeling rather weak but then strange enough, it was welcoming. "What are you doing here?" "I came to say goodbye to an old friend." That made Morax chuckle, it was slow, but visible cracks were now appearing all over his body. "How did you know?" "Whispers in the wind." Venti then kneel right beside Morax who being supported by Xiao as he sat on the ground.

Imagine as moment passed by, Zhongli was rather calm as if he didn't went on a rampage for the last few months after your death. He was calm as if he waiting, maybe he was waiting. Morax. "Zhongli sama." In reply, Zhongli could only humm. "You've done enough, you can rest peacefully now." He didn't failed to notice the way the little hand that was supporting his back was trembling. Morax. "Have I?" He asked and Xiao nodded causing a genuine smile makes it way on Zhongli's lips.

"Yes, you can rest easily now." Xiao reply to the one he respthe most. "Don't make them wait any longer." He added causing Zhongli's eyes to go widen before letting out a heart felt laugh. "Alright." The cracks then starts to spread faster. "Though if you all don't mind." With every bit of strength left as he, Morax started to disintegrate. "Would you mind looking after this place? It's very dear to me, to us."

Imagine as for a moment, everything went black for Morax as he closes his eyes, only for him soon be to blinded by light, causing his brows to frown and hands went to shield his eyes away from the blinding light. And upon adjusting his vision, he soon realised where he was. In the same flower field, except it was endless, and compared to the cave ceiling on your lair, it was rather bright out the sun in here. Not that he minded tho, not when he could hear familiar foot steps approach. And as he did, he turn around. There you were eyes wide as if you did not expect him to sense you approaching him.

Imagine, all across the field, with a good distance between the two of you, your eyes met. And as soon as it does. You let out a laugh and open your arms, and that's all it took him to run after you. Forgetting everything, he ran after you. And as soon as you were within his reach, he pull you into a tight embrace. Burying his face on your neck, breathing your scent, feeling your pulse, your warmth. And you pat him in the back as you embrace him back, closely listening to his rapid heartbeat. "Don't ever asume I could and would bare to live without you ever again." By his words, you laugh continuously patting him at the back. "I'm never living a life without you, keep that in mind." He added.

"Was it that hard without me?" The way he nuzzled close to you was enough to figure out as an answer. "Alright, that was my bad." You smile. "(First name)." "What it is?" Gently withdrawing himself away from you, "I love you." He spoke while looking at you directly in the eyes. "If you ask me again if I ever loved you. The answer is I did, I never stopped, I don't think I could never stop loving you." Brushing away the tears that roll down his cheeks, you kissed him gently. "I love you too. Thank you for making it back to me, my love, my Morax."

Imagine, back in the land of Teyvat where the Adeptus and an old friend was left alone. As Xiao stare at the spot, his arms were Rex Lapis just disappeared from. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "They'll be fine." It was Barbatos, Venti. "What you did was the right thing to do." Although he did say that, there was a bitter smile on Venti's face before he shake his head and only then was a genuine smile on his face. "I guess this makes be the last man standing, Morax." He whispered to himself before turning his attention back to Xiao who was staring at him. "If you don't mind, would you like to listen to my melody tonight?"

A life without you is no life at all.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

: man! that was long, I was not expecting it go be this long, what the. well then, I guess this is the end. also, I think I did stray away from what was asked but I think it's pretty close? well then its 0:55 in the morning and still got classes around 8 am. so yeah, gnight.

[penny00dreadful]

Folie à Deux - Part 2

For @psychocatnerd

Rating: Explicit

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Eddie had been having an interesting morning. 

When he woke up, he stayed settled in bed as long as he could, like he usually did, eyes closed and surrounded by the smell of Steve for some reason he was too comfy and cosy and sleepy to worry about.

He snuggled in deep to the soft cotton and hairspray scent, letting it drift into his bones and melt him even more. He was on his stomach and he could feel his lazy morning arousal pressed into the mattress below and thought, fuck it. Why not? He had nowhere to be for a while.

Feeling like he was being surrounded by Steve was doing absolutely nothing to make it go away too, in fact it was making it worse.

Images came to mind of Steve being pinned underneath him, pliant and golden, breathy and wriggling.

Pushing his hips down in small little teasing thrusts, he clutched the pillow tighter to himself with half a mind to reach between the headboard and the mattress for the pair of cuffs he kept tethered there, tie himself up and go to town.

But as it was, he couldn’t be bothered putting in any more effort than he had to this morning. The cuffs would be there for the next time. 

He slid one arm down, getting a hand into his boxers, though he didn’t remember keeping them on last night. He was almost sure he'd just stripped himself bare and fallen into bed like he usually did. But at the same time, Eddie was well used to his own brain tripping him up and letting him forget small things, so he didn’t really allow himself to get too hung up on that right now. 

He found himself waking up a little bit more when he didn’t encounter the wild and wiry thatch of curls he usually kept artfully messy and instead found what felt like some neat  short hairs, long enough not to spike as stubble but short enough to easily comb through.

Had Eddie groomed his pubes at some point? He didn’t think so.

Snaking a hand around himself, teasing just the way he liked he realised things felt a little… off.

Thing was, this penis, his penis didn’t feel like his penis, strangely enough. He’d touched plenty of penis in his time and he was pretty sure he knew exactly what his own felt like.

It was only as he rolled to the side, allowing himself the full movement of his arm, dragging his hand up and down himself that he also realised something was missing. 

Fuck, did his piercing fall out last night?

Eddie peeled his eyes open and immediately knew something was terribly wrong. Because he wasn’t in his own room. He was in Steve’s room. In Steve’s bed.

In Steve’s room, in Steve’s bed, jerking off like some kind of fucking creep.

He snatched his hand away from himself, shooting to sit upright, brain already firing off in a thousand different directions when his thoughts came to a screeching halt as he paused to look down at his arms.

Moles.

A whole lot of moles.

And muscles.

And hair.

So much body hair.

What… was he having some kind of psychotic break?

Maybe.

But if he was having a psychotic break, would he even be able to identify that he was having a psychotic break?

Mirror, he needed a mirror.

Eddie dragged himself out of Steve’s bed and made his way into the bathroom, stopping in front of the sink.

Yup, that was Steve’s body, Steve’s chest, his hair, his…

Eddie was swiftly reminded of what he’d just been doing by the zing of arousal that coursed through him when his eyes dipped lower and he spotted the bulge in the boxers from his still hard cock.

Fuck, he’d touched Steve’s dick. 

That was not how he wanted to touch it for the first time. He’d have much rather done that with his own hand, thank you very much. 

God.

He was in Steve’s body. 

What the fuck was he doing in Steve’s body?

And boy, what a body it was.

Eddie couldn’t help but stare. 

Fuck, Steve was hot.

Eddie had seen him shirtless plenty of times but now he was looking at Steve all sleep rumpled and almost naked and hard and god he wanted to get his hands on him so fucking bad.

How was that going to work now?

If he was in Steve’s body, how could Eddie ever hope to properly seduce him, like he’d been trying to for the last few months?

With a glance down Eddie thought “fuck it” and slipped a finger underneath the waistband of the boxers, pulling it open to get an eyeful.

Damn, that was a nice dick.

All pretty and pink and veiny.

Even so, Eddie couldn’t help a little proud part of himself from noticing that he was bigger than Steve. 

Ha. Suck it, King Steve.

Okay, maybe thinking of Steve sucking wasn’t the best thing to be thinking of right now, trying to will the unfairly tempting boner away. 

Eddie looked back up, eyes darting around the bathroom for something to distract himself, trying to not be so fucking horny when he really should be having more of a crisis and cracked the bathroom cabinet door open. 

He was left a little disappointed when he found it wasn’t as stocked as he’d hoped it would be.

It was just hairspray.

Steve’s secret was just hairspray?

And, like, genetics or something?

Reaching out, Eddie pulled the can off the shelf and turned it.

Oh-hoh-hoh!

Not just any hairspray, it seemed, but the hairspray of one of Charlie's beloved Angels. 

Eddie was never gonna let Steve live this down.

He caught sight of his own grin in the mirror and felt that usually swooping feeling, that flutter of butterflies in his stomach that he got whenever Steve smiled and it was so fucking weird to be like… in Steve’s body and still being painfully attracted to him.

Eddie hummed to himself, putting the can back where it belonged and watched the flex of Steve’s muscles as he did so.

Well, what a golden opportunity this was. 

Raising his arms up, Eddie tensed. Steve’s biceps immediately became more defined and biteable and god Eddie wanted to bite. He flexed and released, flexed and released a few more times, mouth almost watering with the urge to just tear in.

Bringing his arms back down, Eddie nearly giggled to himself, bouncing a little on his toes, watching Steve’s pecs jiggle.

He bit his lip, doing it a few more times before a thought came to him. 

There was something far better to look at jiggling on the back.

Turning around, Eddie twisted to still be able to see himself and bounced again.

Dear god.

Steve’s ass was so perfect.

It didn’t move as much as he had expected. It was so muscular. Sculpted from marble. God, Eddie wanted to bite. Well, he’d never really been one to not give into his temptations. 

Raising his arm to his lips, Eddie opened his mouth and bit down hard, feeling his teeth sink into that warm golden flesh.

It wasn’t as satisfactory as he’d hoped. It was just like biting himself, nowhere near as fun as whenever he did it to someone else or someone else did it to him. 

How disappointing. 

Well, it could be worse. He could still oggle as much as he wanted. 

He continued to twist and turn into every position he could, examining the flex of his muscles and the swoop of his hair. He could have spent all damn day here, just soaking Steve in, but it all felt a little flat. 

Yeah, Steve was hot. God was Steve hot but he wasn’t here. His bitchy frown and snippy words, his light, his personality. It wasn’t here.

Where was he?

In all the books Eddie had read, all of the sci-fi and fantasy that involved things similar to this, he wasn’t quite sure which scenario he was in right now.

Either he was suffering some kind of psychotic break, he’d invaded Steve’s head and Steve was stuck in the background somewhere or Steve was waking up in Eddie’s bed and probably freaking out.

Eddie closed his eyes and tried to listen. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was listening for, maybe Steve’s voice, or his… like… essence or something?

But there was nothing there. His brain felt like it always had. It was just him in there.

Well, okay then.

He was gonna call the trailer before he decided to go out and talk to a medical professional.

Or Wayne.

Eddie picked up the phone in Steve’s room and just prayed that he’d be on the other end. 

The dial tone rang out after Steve had hung up on him and Eddie was left reeling. He had half a mind to turn Steve’s room upside down in order to find whatever dirty porn mags he no doubt had hidden, given how panicked he’d gotten.

But as fun as it would be, it would also be a massive invasion of privacy, more of an invasion than Eddie had allowed himself so far, drinking in his almost completely naked body for as long as he had in front of the mirror. 

So in the end he settled for rifling through Steve’s closet for something appropriately Steve to wear.

Though rifling might have been the wrong word because everything was so meticulously organised and in its own place that he only just had to glance to see what his options were.

Usually that kind of order would make his skin crawl. It would make him think what kind of fucked up secrets were they keeping, being so organised, what did they have hidden in the back of their closets. But now?

Now it was scratching an itch in his brain in just the right way. 

It was so satisfying to look at. 

Reaching in, he had to bypass the yellow sweater that plagued his dreams. 

It felt wrong to wear it without Steve asking him to, for some reason. It was too loaded. There were too many memories. Instead he went for one of Steve’s many, many polo’s and almost felt excited at the thought of dressing up as him for a day, seeing what it felt like to be in his clothes, though he didn’t know if it could even be called dressing up. 

He was literally in Steve’s body, after all.

And of course Eddie couldn’t pass up the opportunity to stick Steve in those lovely tight, light wash jeans. Those jeans that featured in far too many late night thoughts of his.

He was just trying to figure out how he would tackle the hair, how he’d figure out how to make it look so effortlessly swooped like it always did when something caught his eye.

It was a small nondescript box in the back corner of the closet.

It looked like a shoe box, but Steve wasn’t the type to leave his shoes languishing in a box. They'd be taken out and put into their proper place amongst the rest, organised.

It was out of place. It was very, very out of place.

For someone as meticulous as Steve, a cardboard box that didn’t really fit in with the rest of the surroundings stuck out.

Maybe this was where he was hiding his porn.

Or. 

This was where Steve hid the metaphorical skeletons in his closet, whatever they might be.

And, listen, Eddie knew it was wrong. He knew that. But he was also incredibly impulsive, so he found he was crouched down beside it and his finger was under the lip of the cardboard before he even registered what he was doing.

“Eddie!”

Eddie snapped back like he’d been caught red handed at the sound of his own voice calling him from downstairs.

Damn it, he’d have to come back to that later. For now, he took a deep breath and almost ran down the hallway, way too excited to see what he looked like from the outside. And a little excited to see just how Steve was dealing with being stuck in some weedy little nerd body.

He came to a skidding halt at the top of the stairs and was nearly bowled backwards at the sight in front of him.

It was so surreal. 

He was standing there at the foot of the stairs, that was him. That was his body.

But aside from that was the fact that he could almost see Steve inside of him.

Now wasn’t that a thought?

But aside from his mind being in the gutter, he could see Steve in there. 

In his posture, in his stance, the hands on the hips, in the bitchy raised eyebrow and the little frown on his face. It was all so Steve.

But also, what the fuck was he wearing? Why did he choose that?

Steve had apparently seen fit to dress him in his Man-Catchers; the clothes he would wear to attract as much attention as he could.

Though lately, they’d become exclusively Steve-Catchers. And catch Steve’s gaze they did. They never failed and it made Eddie feel all warm and gooey whenever it happened. 

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asked, almost bewildered that Steve hadn’t picked something more… Steve.

Steve looked down at himself, his cheeks pinking up a little. “What do you mean? You wear this stuff all the time.”

Well, he had him there.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” Eddie asked, looking down at himself and smoothing his hands down the polo shirt. 

“What have you done to my hair? I thought you said you found my secrets?”

The cocked eyebrow that was being shot at him in Eddie’s own face was so strange. It was all Eddie on the outside but Steve was shining through like a beacon.

Eddie just shrugged, bounding down the stairs and coming face to face with his own body. It was so fascinating. Without even realising he was doing it, he started to circle Steve, taking everything in.

Damn, sitting here in Steve’s body with his beautiful, bouncy ass, his own really was a tiny little thing by comparison. But it was cute. The way his back dipped and curved was nice too and shit did his arms look good. His hair was a bird's nest of tangles that made it clear Steve had not tried a damn thing to tame it, as much as he bitched Eddie out for doing nothing with his own mane. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, twisting a little to keep an eye on him.

“Inspecting.”

“Inspecting what? Don’t you know what your own body looks like?” Steve snarked back and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Of course I do, but it’s different seeing it from the outside.” He moved back around to the front and, holding his own arms out, gave Steve a little twirl. “Don’t you think?”

Eddie could almost feel Steve’s eyes dragging up and down his body and while it wasn’t his body, that didn’t mean his brain didn’t take it a certain type of way.

“I guess.” Steve shrugged. 

Eddie frowned. He’d been hoping for a little bit more enthusiasm than that. But he wouldn’t let that stop him.

“Different experiencing it on the inside too?” Eddie teased, leaning in. “Tell me, just what have you been doing to my body with you in it?”

Steve’s blush came back with a vengeance, turning his whole face and neck bright red. 

“N-nothing!”

Oh-ho?

“So you did do something?” Eddie grinned, sharp and biting. “Did you explore a little? I wouldn’t be mad if you did. I’m very… open. Or I could be. With the right tools.”

Steve’s face was bright red and he looked like he was ready to expire on the spot, mouth opening and closing but pupils only getting wider as some, no doubt, filthy thoughts ran through his head. 

“You wouldn’t? Be mad if I… I dunno. Accidentally did… whatever.”

Hell no, Eddie thought. Just the idea of Steve being in his body and running his hands everywhere, taking everything in? God it was like some kind of fucked up wet dream come true. 

“Well… I didn’t.” Steve finally said and Eddie all but pouted. “What have you been doing to my body with you in it?”

Eddie shrugged, all put on nonchalance. “I dunno, sweetheart. What would you let me do to your body with me in it?”

Eddie could practically see Steve’s brain melting out of his ears, his mouth hanging open and his eyes going even wider.

Steve gaped at him for a moment, his gaze glazing over as though he was imagining everything and oh boy, Eddie was going to ruin this boy if given a chance.

Eventually Steve shrugged, mirroring Eddie’s put upon nonchalance. 

“You could fix my hair, maybe?”

“Awh, Stevie.” Eddie cooed, running a hand down his own arm. “It’s okay, you got somewhere to be today? You could show me? I thought maybe we could stay in and explore-”

“Fuck!” 

The exclamation made Eddie jump and he snatched his hand back. Shit, had he taken it too far? Had he pushed too much? He was always doing that. Limits? Eddie didn’t know what they fuck they were and if he did, he loved to kick at them.

But Steve wasn’t really looking at him anymore, he was staring off into the distance with his hands in his hair.

Eddie eyed him warily for a few more seconds before he let out a tentative, “Stevie?”

Steve’s frantic eyes swung back to him.

“Fuck, Eddie. I’m supposed to pick up Robin today.” And Eddie allowed himself to relax a little. Okay. That was okay. “She’s coming down from college. We’re supposed to hang out all weekend, what the fuck are we going to do? I can’t go pick her up looking like you! She’ll think something is wrong, she’ll start to panic, she’ll freak out!”

“Hey, listen.” Eddie reached forward, placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, I’ll go pick her up, bring her back here and we can talk to her together about this. She won’t need to freak out, you don’t need to freak out-”

Steve huffed, letting his shoulders slump under Eddie’s touch. “I’m not freaking out!”

“You kinda are, sweetheart.” He cooed, just a little condescending, in a sweet way and got a glare for his efforts.

Steve sighed, disentangling his fingers. Thank god he hadn’t put any of Eddie’s rings on otherwise that would have been a whole other problem.

“You really think you can pretend to be me for, like, fifteen minutes?”

Eddie sighed right back, a perfect imitation of what Steve had just done and adopted his signature pose, hands on hips, pulling his mouth down into a little pout.

Steve scowled, unconsciously mirroring him. Hands on hips and a cute little pout.

“I do not look like that.”

Eddie grinned. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Seeing posture that was just so undeniably Steve coming from his own body was tripping him up all over again. It was cute, almost. 

“Look, I can even sound like you.” Eddie cleared his throat and then pulled in a big dramatic gasp. “Birdie! Did I tell you? Mrs. Carmichael, you know Mrs. Carmichael a few houses down from me? She told her sister, who told her cousin, who told her eldest son, who told Claudia, that Anthony Hayes, you know Anthony Hayes? He drives the red car? You know him. He’s got the big forehead. Always tries to get a refund for stupid shit at Melvalds? He’s dead. Yeah! I know! Keeled over one night, probably trying to steal candy from a baby-” 

Eddie felt something swat over the back of his head and he put on his most pathetic pout as Steve pulled his hand back. Honestly, he’d been having a great time playing Steve for that little gossip moment.

Robin would be a piece of cake.

Steve glared at him but he couldn’t hide the amused tilt of his mouth and Eddie counted it as a win.

Looking at his own body now, standing across from him, it was still so strange to see Steve inside it all. Almost like if he unfocused his eyes, it could be like nothing changed. 

And as much as he enjoyed being in Steve’s body, he ached to get his own hands on that body, the normal way.

The quicker Eddie went out and brought Robin back to Steve, the quicker they could all probably figure this out. Robin was a truly genius brain, able to make connections where Eddie never would have thought there’d be, so she was a great presence to have on their side.

And she’d probably help to keep Steve from losing his mind and spiralling.

With a quick snap of his wrist, he snatched Steve's car keys up from where they rested on the side table next to the door.

Steve was as predictable as clockwork and no matter how many times Eddie had told him to keep his keys away from the front door, so someone couldn’t just walk in, grab them and go, he had never gotten out of the habit. 

Steve lunged for him with an indignant, “I told you you’re not driving my car!”

Eddie felt something thrilling and downright dangerous strike through him when he held an arm out and was able to keep Steve at bay with an ease that could only come from being in a big, handsome, strong jock body.

Steve was no match for him in his own weedy little thing and the fact that Eddie was able to stop him in his tracks, with just a hand to his chest seemed to shock him into submission.

Jesus H. Christ, Eddie needed to get out of here.

Now.

Otherwise he might just do something stupid like pick him up and throw him over his shoulder.

“See you soon, Harrington.” Eddie shot him a wink and a two fingered salute, dancing out of the front door before he could give into his horny impulses. 

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

Divider by @firefly-graphics