#and answer to the angst™ that waits me

[reginrokkr]

'Tis that rare time in which my inbox is almost empty (with only one meme thingy left to answer without counting the spicyday ones, which shall be done tonight!), so I might peer into the rp meme tag and reblog a few of them to reply to my leisure ♥︎

[starryevermore]

dumb love, i love being stupid ✧ ruhn danaan 

angst city™ library |send in a request (consultrequest faqs first)

pairing: ruhn danaan x fem!reader 

summary: you thought you had found your forever, but he wanted to keep it casual. 

word count: 2,346

warnings?: angst city™ bitch, not proofread

“So how’s it going with that one girl? Been seeing her a lot lately.”

“Eh, we’re just keeping things casual,” Ruhn said, eyeing a pretty faun from across the bar. 

You watched as his friend—Declan, you realize—arched a brow, took a long sip of his drink. Ruhn couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes as Declan said, “That why you keep bringing her around so much?”

“We both know what this is. I like her company, so I invite her out sometimes. That a crime?” Ruhn didn’t wait for an answer. He set his drink down on the bar and began to make his way to the pretty faun. 

“Guess not.” Declan looked away from his friend, eyes somehow finding yours. Despite the distance and lighting, you couldn’t miss the flash of pity. 

Before he could say anything to you, you turned on your heel, ready to leave the White Raven with whatever scraps of your dignity you had intact. You pushed through the throngs of people, ignoring the annoyed voices of those who you accidentally elbowed in the process. You just needed to get out of there. 

A hand caught your arm just as the exit was finally in sight, pulling you to a stop. “Hey! Where are you going? The fun’s just about to start!” Bryce cheered. Behind her stood Hunt, who offered you a smile and a soft “hey.”

Wriggling lose of Bryce’s hold, trying to maintain an air of playfulness, you managed a laugh. “Some of us have early mornings and can’t party til dawn.”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a buzzkill. Do I need to drag Ruhn out of whatever corner he’s hiding in and convince you to stay?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you prayed neither Bryce nor Hunt could hear it. “Didn’t realize he was here. Saw Declan for, like, half a second.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at you. “So that’s a yes? Getting your boy toy will get you to stay?”

“He’s not my boy toy,” you said, “and it makes me feel icky for you to call your brother that.”

“You’re no fun!” Bryce whined. 

Hunt, either because he believed your story about an early morning or because he could sense your unease, took Bryce by the waist and slowly began to urge her away. “C’mon, this is a losing battle.”

“Fine, but you’re coming to the party this weekend, right?”

You probably weren’t, but if agreeing was what it took to get out of the White Raven without crying in front of Ruhn’s friends, then that’s what you’d do. “Duh, you think I’d miss it?”

Bryce grinned, and Hunt finally successfully urged her into the crowd to find the rest of their friends. You loosed a breath, rolled your shoulders, and made your escape. No one stopped you again, or even spared you a glance. For that, you were grateful. You weren’t sure how much more people-ing you could handle. 

Unfortunately, you did plan on making one more stop before you went home. 

Ruhn really needed a better hiding spot for his spare key. Was there anything more obvious than a potted plant by the door? It would have been laughable if you weren’t effectively breaking into his home. (Is it really breaking in if you found the key? And when the owner of said key told you where it was hidden?) 

You didn’t bother being quiet, figured that all of the home’s residents were out at the White Raven. Yet, when you shut the door, a voice had you jumping out of your skin. 

“Ruhn come back with you?” Flynn asked, leaning against the entry to the kitchen. 

You tried to steady your breathing and racing heart. “Nah. Think he’s at the White Raven with Declan. I was just swinging by to grab a couple things I left behind.” You held up the spare key for him to see. “Y’all need a better place for this than the only potted plant on the property. You’re practically asking someone to steal all your shit.”

Flynn nodded. “Cool, cool. Shout if you need anything, and try not to rob us blind, yeah?”

“Eh, I’ll leave your shit alone, but can’t say the same for Ruhn and Declan,” you joked despite yourself. 

He snorted out a laugh. “You’re funny. Shame Ruhn got to you first.”

You shrugged. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

As you walked up to Ruhn’s room, Flynn disappeared into the kitchen. He’d probably leave you alone. As long as you don’t take a long time, probably. You didn’t plan on sticking around, though. You just wanted to grab your things and get out before Ruhn returned with that faun he was eyeing. If he thought this was casual, the last thing he would want is for you to be hanging around while he was trying to get lucky. 

Thankfully, you knew where most of your things were. A couple of shirts thrown in his closet, a jacket strewn over a chair. Some miscellaneous socks mixed in with his laundry. You grabbed your lipgloss you thought you lost from the bathroom, and the pretty hand towel you brought because there was no way in hell you were using the scratchy ones they bought in bulk. Your favorite bras, buried in the top dresser drawer. 

Once you were satisfied you got everything you cared about, you made your way out of the home, praying that you wouldn’t run into Flynn again. 

He was on the couch when you came out. He eyed the bundle of clothes in your arms. “Moving out?” he teased. 

“Getting this stuff out before he thinks I’m trying to move in.”

“You and I both know Ruhn wouldn’t mind if you did. Honestly, he’d probably be more offended you were sneaking all that shit out.”

Liar. “Eh, I need to wash all this and I don’t trust you idiots to not fuck all my nice stuff up.”

Flynn laughed, throwing his head back. “You make us sound like beasts!”

“Excuse you, I was here when your sheets were stained pink after a sock made its way into the machine, and when half of Ruhn’s clothes got bleach stains after one of you forgot to rinse out the drum,” you giggled.

Fuck, you wished you had fallen for Flynn instead. Or even Declan. They were easy to talk to, and wouldn’t make you feel like an idiot for thinking that something more than casual was going on. That was more your fault than anything, you supposed. You knew who Ruhn was when he approached you at the White Raven all those months ago. He never tried to hide who he was. You were the idiot who thought he might settle down.

“Fair enough,” Flynn laughed. “Hey, you be careful alright? Ruhn’d kill me if you got hurt after leaving here.”

You were already hurt, but Flynn didn’t know that. Didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you mother hen.”

Flynn flipped you off as you left, still laughing. The bitter part of you thought he was laughing at you, knowing how big of an idiot you were. The more rational part knew he was just having a nice time joking around with you. Whatever. You probably weren’t going to be seeing him around much either way. 

Loud knocking on the door woke you up. When you glanced at your phone for the time, it was barely one in the morning. Several more hours until you would need to start the day, and way too late for anyone to be bothering you right. With a groan, you got out of bed, wrapped yourself up with a robe, and went to the door, fully prepared to chew out whoever was interrupting your beauty sleep. 

You yanked open the door. Ruhn stood on the other side. Whatever steam you had rising up inside you dissipated when you saw him. 

Pulling the robe closer around you, you asked, “What are you doing here?” More questions stayed locked in your mind—Why aren’t you home? Why aren’t you with that pretty faun? 

“Flynn said you stopped by to get some of your things,” Ruhn said. “Looked like you took more than a few. Just wanted to see if you were alright.”

You opened the door wider so he could see into your small apartment. You gestured to the couch, where your laundry basket sat, topped off with the clothes you took back from his place. “Was needing to do laundry,” you lied. “Wanted to make sure all my stuff got washed.”

He pouted—actually pouted. “I could’ve done that for you.”

“It’s no big deal—”

“Or you could’ve done it at my place. Throw in a couple of my things if you didn’t have enough for a load,” he continued. Ruhn took a step into your apartment. You took a step back. “I like having your stuff around.”

“It’ll all probably end up there again anyways,” you shrugged. You doubted it. Ruhn might have wanted to keep this casual, but you weren’t that sort of person. You craved intimacy, the closeness of a relationship. If Ruhn wouldn’t offer that, you didn’t see the point in sticking around. 

Ruhn’s violet eyes searched yours. You weren’t sure what he was looking for. It would probably be easier to walk into your mind than try to pick it up with context clues, but you also didn’t want him anywhere near your head. You didn’t want to hear any excuses he had. Anyways, Ruhn was good about staying out of your mind. He said he didn’t want to violate your trust. What a joke. “Why didn’t you talk to me tonight?”

“Huh?”

“Dec said he saw you, and Bryce said you two talked. I was there, too. I know we didn’t plan on doing anything tonight, but I would’ve liked for you to say something.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you really here, Ruhn? I know it’s not because I got my things or didn’t talk to you tonight.”

“Are we good?”

The scoff fell from your mouth before you could stop it. Seriously? Why did he even care? If this was casual, why did he care about your feelings? “You don’t have to pretend, Ruhn. I know you want to keep this casual.”

Ruhn blinked, slowly working his jaw. “What are you talking about?”

“If you want this to be casual, that’s fine. I mean, you wish you had told me that, but I can’t change the past. If you want, you know, company or whatever, that’s okay. But I’m not that sort of person. Let’s not let feelings get any more involved than they already are.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. It took him long enough. Ruhn was far from stupid. It didn’t make sense for it to take this long for it to all click. “You heard me and Dec.”

“And saw you with the pretty faun.”

Ruhn looked away. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Does it matter that I was? I mean, if this is casual, you can flirt with anyone you want. You can fuck anyone you want.”

“Stop saying that,” he near-growled. You raised your brows. What right did he have to get upset? At you no less? Fuck, you needed to put an end to all of this. Tonight. Now. 

You couldn’t hide your own ire as you said, “Why? Only you get to call it casual? I get to sit around thinking that maybe you actually give a shit about me, that you want to stick around for the long term, but you get to sleep with half of the city. Do I have that right?”

“No.”

“No, I think I do,” you said. You reached out, started to push him toward the door. Ruhn snatched your hand and tugged you against him. “Ruhn, let me go.”

“No.”

“Let me go and get the fuck out of here.”

“No,” he insisted. It was hard to ignore the desperation in his voice, but you weren’t going to fall for any of his tricks. You fell for enough of him already. 

Tears pricked at your eyes. Godsdammit, you weren’t going to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve to see you so vulnerable. Not anymore, at least. “I am not going to be the idiot in love with you,” you said, your voice thick, “not when you don’t give a shit about me.”

Ruhn’s eyes flashed. With what, you weren’t certain. “I fucking care about you!” he shouted. Oh, what you would’ve given to hear that just hours ago. Now, it meant nothing. 

“No. You either lied to Declan about this being casual, or you lied to me about wanting something with me. Either way, you lied. You do not lie to the people you care about.” You wrenched yourself away from Ruhn, grabbed the door, and pointed out to the hall. “Go. I won’t ask again.”

“I want to talk about this.”

You gestured into the hallway again. “I have nothing left to say. I’ve got neighbors, Ruhn, and you’re probably waking up the whole building.”

He said your name, so softly your resolve nearly crumbled. But you looked away, steeled yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself be treated like shit just for a fae who would never respect you. 

“Lose my number.”

Ruhn stepped toward you. He stopped right in front of you, brushed away a strand of hair that fell in your face. His eyes scanned over you, as if memorizing you. But you wouldn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Then he stepped through the threshold of the door, and you shut the door before he could say anything else, twisted the locks before he could try to open it.

You pressed your back against the door and sank down to the door. Face pressed against your knees, you began to cry, and you pretended you couldn’t hear Ruhn still standing on the other side. 

It was better off this way. 

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

FANFIC POLL TIME!

Descriptions (because i NEED to explain things haha-):

CHOOSE WISELY

Of Bridges Built & Burned: Based off this clowning between me and @moodyseal

BUCKLE UP THIS GETS WILD READ THE LINK ABOVE FOR A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION

TD;LR- Commodus and Apollo get to both scream about their relationship (because it's usually only Commodus who does that), Commodus goes off to sulk/stew over it while Apollo completes his trials, then post-ToA they meet again and have a Much Needed Talk

...and *sobs* go separate ways... *ugly sobbing* DON'T MIND ME-

you know you love the ship when you write them breaking up in the most heart-wrenching scenario possible.

but shh...i have another idea to do with this but that's for another time😈

The Art of War: I've been DYING to do SOMETHING with Apollo (Favorite Son™) and Ares (Failure Son™) and I have 3 whole scenes in different points of time now!!!

First is when Apollo's young and new on Olympus. He's been shoved onto Ares for the time being because in Ancient Greece, boys were raised by their fathers and girls by their mothers, and when the father was unavailable, it was the eldest brother's job to watch his younger brothers.

Second scene is during/post Ares's kidnapping by the giants! Some Apollo angst, Zeus being the best dad ever (not), and Ares not having a good time.

Third and finally, is a little conversation post-ToA between them :3

The Sun's Rise: At last! Out of the vault! The moment we've been waiting for! Starring our boy Apollo, Prometheus being Prometheus, and a guest star you all should know by now :3

Hyapollo Multific: YEAH YOU HEARD IT. FIVE CHAPTERS OF HYAPOLLO, WITH SIDE DISHES OF APRICITY, HYARICITY, AND ONE-SIDED ZEPHYRUS PINNING FOR HYAPOLLO. COME GET UR FLUFF-DRAMA-ANGST FEST

@hyac1nthus i know you'd want to see this >:3

Koios ToA: What the hell was Koios doing during ToA? This fic will play like a snapshot of what our favorite titan was up too. Questions will be asked, answers will be found, and oh boy Phoebe and Koios are gonna have a bit o' long-overdue marital strife.

Drunk Twins: literally what is says on the label. the twins get drunk and the Hunt has to call in the mama wolf for backup lmao

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare: based on this post by @hogoflight and expanded upon here by me! Rachel Dare is a conundrum to her friends, and they put their detective hats on to solve the case!

ToA BuzzFeed Unsolved: The Queer Capers of Lester Papadopoulos and Meg McCaffrey: BUZZFEED TIME! We need ToA buzzfeed fics so here I am making one :3

Apollo V Orion fight (with a side-dish of Jupiter & Commodus): Exactly what it says on the label lmao I had three oneshot ideas and then I went "COMBINE THEM!!" so here is a oneshot with three different things in it making a cohesive story :3

A Radiant Light: Did I make up an entire backstory for one background character? Yes. Is that character Phoebe the Hunter? Also yes.

how to get your daughter to divorce your brother and marry your nephew: a guide by demeter: funny fic about Demeter trying to get Meg, Nico, and Will to help her convince Persephone to divorce Hades and marry Apollo. Based off one of my headcanons haha

👀 lookin' forward to a lot of these, hehe!

Tag list: @txny-dragon @solahflare @fuzzystudios @apollosothertwin @peishathebookity @reuben-7991 @allylyrac @the-summersun

[lululandd]

run devil run;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 662

warnings: angst? ish? ghost is a coward (again)

note: yall need to be nicer when asking for part 2’s, im glad yall like my stuff enough to want a continuation but damn dont just order me around lmao

summary: its just you two in a bookstore and he mistakes you for an employee.

Simon walked into the bookstore with the intention of getting The Hobbit™ to prank Soap on his birthday. He walked around the fiction aisle for ten minutes when he realised he had zoned out and wasted his time. His mind had decided it wanted to be somewhere else for the time being and so he looked for an employee instead.

He spotted you at the bargain bin, checking the back covers before placing them back in a neat row inside the bin. Walking closer, he heard you mutter to yourself how expensive these bargain books still are and assumed that you weren’t an employee. 

The front desk looked empty when he came in, and after a quick peek he saw it was still unoccupied. Maybe his assumption was wrong and you were an employee after all.

“I’m looking for The Hobbit.” He addressed you as he came closer.

He watches as you dig deep in the pile, tilting your head sideways from time to time while prodding around as you try and search for the book he was looking for. A few moments later you triumphantly hold it up and hand it to him.

“Thanks. You man the register too?”

Blinking slowly at him, he vaguely registered in the back of his mind that the woman sitting by the bargain bin might not be an employee, and just a random civilian that just wants to buy some cheap books. 

Fuck.

“I’m not an employee–” “Sorry I didn’t mean to–”

A smile involuntarily pulled at the corners of his mouth, “You looking for any specific books?” He asked as he pointed to the pile in front of you.

You hesitantly shake your head, “No, not really, no.”

He decided to be chatty today. He hasn’t heard any other noises in the bookstore, so it was still just you and him. There’s no point waiting alone when his mind runs around, it might go somewhere dark and he would like to avoid that.  “Why are you arranging the bin then?”

Simon Riley thanked his past self for wearing a mask because the incredulous look you gave him definitely made him grin from ear to ear. It’s so cute how you’re not shy with your facial expressions. He would love to play poker with you.

“Uh… No reason..?” Your tone lilted at the end, as if you’re unsure of your answer but he senses it’s because you want him to fuck off, kindly.

“Pick a few, they’re on me.”

As he hoped, your expression brightened, “For real?”

He nodded. At the same time, he heard someone come in and walked towards the cash register. 

You chose a book from the neat pile and handed it to him.

“I did say a few.” He insisted.

You shook your head, “No! One is more than enough, thank you so much.”

“I’m picking ‘em at random if you keep being stubborn.” 

His inner boy giggled at how you panic and quickly scan the pile once more. Grabbing two more, you half shoved it into his hands. “Here. Thankyou again.”

“One more.”

“I will run out of this store if I really have to take one more.”

He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as he walked towards the front. Placing the books down on the counter, he asked the cashier “You got a habit of just leaving the store unmanned?”

“Sorry, had an emergency. Thanks for waiting.”

“All right.” He assures the man, before pointing at your books. “These are separate.” 

From his peripherals he can see you anxiously wait—shifting your weight from one foot to the other—and it threatens to pull sore memories of Tommy to the surface of his mind. If he stayed longer he knew he wouldn't be able to suppress the resurfacing thoughts of his brother so he took the book he was supposed to get for soap, threw cash on the table and walked out without looking back.

part ii.

[ihatetheinternetandeveryoneonit]

Tainted: An Amateur Blend of Astarion Angst and Smut

In which the master seducer gets out-seduced and has a big crisis over it.

Note: Finally the full fic is cooked and ready to serve. My first smut, and it's relatively light smut because that ended up being the least interesting part of this fic and it shows. So if you come here for the angst instead, you're less likely to be disappointed. I might mirror onto AO3 if I'm sufficiently bullied into it.

Rated Explicit 18+ Soft service FemDom Tav /Switch Astarion, brief hj, bj, and piv Warnings: dissociation, flashbacks to torture, allusions to forced prostitution and branding, Astarion wants sex but it's complicated™ Enjoy under the cut!

Astarion stepped out of the trees as he had rehearsed a dozen times that night. "There you are. You've had me waiting."

Tav smiled at him in the moonlight, her arms and hips swaying playfully as she approached. They both met within arm's reach of one another as Astarion leered into her eyes.

"Waiting since the moment I first laid eyes on you. Waiting…to have--"

A slender finger pressed against his lips.

He glared at her, drawing his brows. How dare you! Really. You want me to just shut up and have your way with--??

"Quit trying so hard," she chuckled.

'Trying so hard?' Hardly! It worked on you, didn't it? And hundreds more!

He tried to keep his face even, hiding the storm that was always brewing in his head each time he did this. But this time it wasn't that she was bedding him, it was that she was insulting him while doing it--probably without even knowing it.

A single kiss jolted him from his brooding. A kiss very unlike the wet greedy prodding kisses he had had countless times. Or the timid virgin kisses he had experienced hundreds more. This one was a single kiss right on the tip of his cupid's bow. Chaste, yet electrifying.

Paralyzing.

It drew a shallow gasp from him, prompting an impish grin from Tav as she pulled away.

What was she doing?!

The moonlight danced in her eyes for a moment, before she leaned in again. Hands snaking up his neck, fingers slithering up his scalp, gently pulling his head down for another kiss--this time on his brow. He took it as a prompt to smooth his wrinkled forehead, to release the growing tension from his face.

This was wrong--somehow. He couldn't quite pin down why.

An unconvincing scoff was the best he could manage. "What's next, darling? Holding hands?"

Tav broke the kiss and looked down at him, rolling her eyes with a smile. Her fingers traced back down his neck, his shoulders, lightly ghosting down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her eyes followed her fingers, and Astarion gazed anxiously, trying to read those eyes in vain. Her fingers intertwined with his, and she gently pulled his hand up to her face. A playful smirk, and another kiss landed on his knuckles.

Some dark feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach. The reigns were gone now. He had no comeback this time.

"Are you alright?" She rested her chin on his fingers.

Stop it. He wanted to say.

"Yes, I'm fine!" he said abruptly.

She stepped back, blinking in confusion.

"Just…!" He sighed sharply, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her in, kissing her the only way he knew: Deeply. Intensely. Waiting for her to melt into his embrace like they always did.

Eventually, she did. Uncertainly. Perhaps even reluctantly. His victims didn't often react like this but it always put a knot in his stomach whenever they did. They never wanted any of this.

He never wanted any of this.

But if anything, Cazador probably found that all the more gratifying.

Why am I even thinking about him right now??

Just do it.

Just ignore it.

Stop thinking!

All mantras he told himself and prayers to Tav to keep just keep going along. Dreading the moment she would push him away and he would have to look at her.

An increasingly familiar sensation pushed into his mind. Prying. Seeking answers that would not satisfy. Her tadpole linking with his. He could feel her emotions. Anxiety. Confusion. Concern.

Concern?!

To hells with her concern! His tadpole violently banished hers from his mind.

Get out!

As her tadpole withdrew, so did Tav, breaking their kiss with a full step back.

"I had a feeling something was amiss. What are you even doing?" Tav murmured.

A fair question, actually. Astarion stared over his shoulder at the first thing that caught his eye--a tuft of grass--still dreading the notion of meeting her eyes.

"Did I knock you off your rhythm?" Tav gently teased.

"Heh." was the only syllable he could manage.

"Look," she gestured to herself. "You got me here. Consider me seduced. You don't need to keep trying to convince me how beautiful and charming you are."

Then why was she making him doubt it? Why was he the one left like putty in her hands? Powerless?

Astarion dared to look at her. Her tadpole had only skimmed a sliver of the surface, it seemed. Sure, he was starting to doubt his own beauty and charm tonight, but Tav had no idea that she was the reason.

He had worked this hard, planned it all out, his first time where the target and the outcome was his choice. 200 years of practice at seducing pretty things, only to be immediately outclassed. She had instincts he didn't have--instincts to wrap a lover around her finger so effortlessly, put them at ease. An ease that paradoxically set him on edge. He would have been jealous if he wasn't so intimidated by it.

"A--uh," Astarion calculated his next words carefully with an artificial smile. "A sophisticated woman like you doesn't come around often."

Tav rolled her eyes with a friendly grin.

"I'm sorry," Astarion pouted playfully. "But I just knew I had to pull out all the stops if I was going to sweep you off your feet."

Tav raised an eyebrow, reaching for his shoulders. "I don't know how you could possibly think I wouldn't want you, silly. Just give me a moment to make you feel good, too."

His unbeating heart lurched uncomfortably. He'd heard that promise before, but this time he was starting to believe it.

"Could I convince you to relax?" she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

She got onto her knees, gently pulling him to the ground with her. Her hands caressed his neck and shoulders.

It took Astarion a moment to realize what Tav was doing. He laid down, trying to enjoy the way Tav had to lean over him now.

"You know, if you're looking for my erogenous zones--"

"Shhh." She began kneading his muscles--and he suddenly realized how tense they were.

He really wasn't used to this.

Cazador's touches used to mock him with gentleness before beating and tearing into his flesh.

But still…

There was something here that his master's depraved mind could never hope to mimic. Something he couldn't quite articulate.

"W-why…?"

"Hmm?" Tav hummed.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, massaging you?" Tav chuckled.

"Well…yes."

Her hands paused. "Do you want me to stop?"

Astarion hesitated a moment, and closed his eyes. "…no, actually."

She continued to rub deep into his neck, releasing a soreness to the surface he hadn't even realized was there, before it dissipated into her fingers. He let a small contented sigh escape his lips. The vulnerability was nauseating, but he couldn't help himself.

"I just want to know why you're…?" He finally dared open his eyes and gaze at Tav.

She blinked at him. Something about the question had her taken aback.

"Well," she quickly resumed her work on his shoulders. "Isn't it the point of us messing around? To feel good?"

"Ohh, THAT'S why we're having a roll in the hay!" Astarion conjured a smirk. "I almost forgot."

"Cheeky." Tav rolled her eyes and sat back as Astarion got on his elbows. "Now turn over."

A sudden chill gripped him. "…Turn over?"

"Yes, let me get your back."

He froze in place for a moment, before something automatic in him obeyed. He loathed himself for it immediately, burying his face in the grass. All those years, he had taken great care that they never saw his back. He never allowed it. His fingers clawed at the dirt.

This is different. It's all different now.

Was it, though?

The air felt still and chilly. Tav hadn't touched his exposed back. Stripped only to his waist, he still felt more naked then ever under her eyes. He never knew just how bad the scars looked, but he was sure they were stark even under the dim moonlight.

"Well?" He growled into the dirt.

Silently, cautiously, her hands returned to his neck and shoulders, checking their completed work before drifting down.

"Does it hurt?" Tav asked, running a firm palm up his spine, brushing each bump and ridge as gently as she could but the friction was unavoidable.

"No," Astarion lied.

Every corner of his mind willed in vain for his muscles to relax, only for them to spasm. Mercifully, it only took two attempts at working his shoulder blades before Tav gave up, realizing that each touch only knotted his muscles further. She tapped his arm and he took it as a queue to roll back over.

He really couldn't meet her eyes this time, fixing his gaze on the stars. But he could still feel Tav searching his face.

"You're beautiful, you know." she finally said.

Those words rang hollow in his mind. Not because she was lying; she sounded sincere. But she said those words like a reasurring friend rather than a starstruck lover.

He had no power over her.

He had no power.

He was like a trembling virgin under her. Did she know that?

But they had already gone this far--and Astarion was loathe to end the night on such an awkward note. He swallowed his humiliation and reached for her waist, squeezing the fabric and flesh underneath.

"Thank you," he said, finding his most convincing smile.

She returned the smile, apparently satisfied that she had reassured him from some vain little insecurity about those unsightly blemishes on his back, and let his hand guide her hips to straddle his waist.

The relief was palpable as he fell back into his rhythm. He grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her down for a deep kiss, groping her breast. She fell right in line, leaning into the kiss and ghosting a hand over his ribs.

Astarion pulled Tav's shirt over her head before rolling over her and removing her pants.

He appraised this conquest in her full glory. He had taken so many pretty things to their last ecstasy, and this one would have certainly been a candidate if her timing had been less fortunate. But he had a feeling that she may have instead led him to his own doom.

Not that he would complain, all things considered.

She pushed him off and pounced on top, decorating his body with her kisses. He threw his head back, feeling the sensations, begging for them to wash over and carry him away. He just needed to get out of his head. Focus on her. The way she seemed to take inventory of every gasp of pleasure he made, as Cazador had taken inventory of every shriek.

Astarion shut his eyes, screwing his mind to focus on his own skin. Tav traced the lines of his lower abdomen, awakening a warm arousal.

It was his pleasure. All his.

And yet, it still didn't feel like his.

Her hands explored his hips, her mouth explored his waist, teeth tugging at his pants. Astarion groaned and grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Eager pup," He rasped.

Tav scoffed, warm breath sweeping across his skin. "As if you didn't grope and strip me of every thread just now."

Astarion shuddered as her lips found where his belly met his pelvis.

"Make some noise, lover boy." Tav murmured between kisses. "Let me hear you."

"Shut UP, boy! The more you scream, the more I'll have to do over." Cazador never made mistakes. It was always something Astarion did that made his blade slip.

Astarion forced out a stifled grunt.

Tav sighed. In a single flick of surprising strength, she yanked his trousers from his hips, which earned a proper yelp out of him.

"There we go."

The blood Astarion had drained from that bear last night, which still left him quite full, rushed to his cheeks. He felt his cock twitch.

"You're so warm tonight," Tav mused, settling herself between his legs.

This was a very different kind of attention, he had barely touched her, and already--

Tav traced a lazy finger up an engorged vein, studying his face.

Astarion hissed and threw his head back. He gained some composure but his voice was strained. "I get cold when I haven't had blood in a while."

"Hmm, I'll have keep that in mind." The pad of Tav's finger circled the head and his eyes fluttered shut. "You do look rather cute when you're full of blood. All rosy."

If that counted as praise or just really good flattery, Astarion was getting too delirious to tell.

"Perhaps I should volunteer to keep feeding you myself." Tav's voice lowered to a rasp. "Would you like that?"

Damn, she was good. Astarion found himself nodding

"Would you?" She asked again, squeezing him gently and eliciting a gasp from him.

"Would you like me to stop?" Cazador dragged his dagger through Astarion's flesh. "Are you still screaming like a child??"

"Would you like to taste me, every single night? Drink me to your fill? "

"Only if you taste me first," Astarion blurted out the first comeback he could think of.

Tav didn't miss a beat. She devoured him down to the base.

His elbows collapsed under him. He arched his back and shoulders from the ground and cried at the stars above. A frantic wandering hand found her hair and balled it in a fist.

She swallowed around him and a pathetic little whine erupted from his throat. Caressing fingers ghosted his hips in encouragement.

Tav bobbed her head up and down at an excruciatingly slow pace. Each time releasing him from her mouth but still tracing a tongue at his tip before mercifully consuming him again.

Astarion groaned. "Ugh, I…don't think I've had a lover ever go this slow!" Probably a lie. But then again, he couldn't recall any memories to the contrary.

Tav smiled around his cock. "Good," her voice was muffled.

He groaned again in impatience, pulling at her head down to get some pleasure and some semblance of control.

Tav gagged on him, "Alrighh, alrighh!" she said around his cock, bobbing faster.

His pleasure quickly mounted. But when Tav dug her nails into his hips, it went beyond him.

A high strained whine escaped his throat, barely holding the urge to come as he shoved her off of him. "Not yet!"

Tav leaned back on the grass, enjoying her handiwork as Astarion panted to regain his composure.

"I like those cute little noises you make." She cocked her head and bobbed a leg from side to side. Trying to look coy. And succeeding.

"I'll show you cute little noises in a moment." Astarion lowered his voice to a growl.

"Oh, will you now?" Tav smirked, already playfully on her knees before he could jump on her. Clever girl. Astarion scrambled to his own knees.

They were at this strange sexual impasse. Two seducers, going toe to toe in this intricate little dance. And if they were keeping score, Astarion was lagging behind.

"You're a vision." Astarion coughed up the first hollow compliment he could think of, eyes quickly scanning her body. It was enough to make most of targets go weak for him.

Tav smiled kindly but impatiently. She leaned forward into a kiss. Running her hands up his arms, to his shoulders. Without warning she fell back, pulling Astarion on top of her.

Oh, this he could do.

He pressed his body over hers, letting her close her eyes and softly moan at the sensation of skin on skin. Vulnerable. He nibbled at her ear, her jawline, her bottom lip. His tongue prodded for entrance then artfully danced in her mouth.

He trailed kisses down her jaw, mingling at her neck, flicking his tongue across her collarbone. At length, he settled his face between her breasts, deciding that the left one was his favorite. He began to gently nip at it, while he palmed the other breast.

Tav hummed, either in quiet satisfaction or a hint of impatience.

Astarion contemplated teasing her, but truth be told he just wanted this over with. His kisses drifted to her sternum, to her stomach…before slender fingers tugged at his ear. He looked up at her.

Tav regarded him for a moment. "I want to see your face. I'm ready."

Again, feeling as intimidated as a virgin, Astarion slowly slid back up her body, trying to muster the courage to look into her eyes.

He propped his elbows on either side of Tav's head, and reluctantly his eyes flickered to her face.

She had a warm, reassuring smile.

Astarion couldn't stop himself from clenching his teeth. What was there to reassure, anyway? He didn't care how experienced Tav could be, his body count would still dwarf her own, guaranteed.

Tav's brow began to furrow before Astarion dipped his cock just beneath the surface of her entrance. She let out a shuddering moan, letting her eyes close.

Fucking finally. He had her.

A dip out to coat himself in her lubrication and then he slid fully in. Tav's lips parted and she gasped, her eyes now half-lidded, and their bodies began to rock together.

Astarion never claimed to be the biggest, so it didn't take long at all for her to adjust to him before he propped himself up and picked up the pace.

He pumped his hips into her, rolling them just as he had been taught. He hesitated a moment to straighten his back. Why did he still care about keeping form? It wasn't like he was back at the manor. Back at the "parties." There was no Cazador here, watching to provide any "feedback" later.

He shut his eyes and thrust into her at a rapid pace. Numbing his his mind, his favorite thing to do was count the thrusts until his mark came. He had counted to thirteen before Tav interrupted him.

"Astarion?"

Astarion's attention snapped to reality, but his rhythm was too practiced to falter, though he was a bit peeved to lose count. "What is it, pet?" he panted.

She stared at him as he continued to thrust into her, but her face showed no pleasure. In fact, it was frustration.

"What's wrong?" Her voice lowered into something so serious it was nearly comical in this situation.

"What do you mean?" Astarion wore a lazy smirk, trying to angle himself to hit an ever-so-popular spot, that ought to shut her up.

"Get off."

He paused and looked at her scowl. Yes, she was serious.

Furious, Astarion pulled out and shoved himself off. His first time choosing to have a roll in the hay, the first time he didn't have to think about his body being someone's death sentence. Only to be brutally rejected like this.

All those times, he wandered now, was his allure even him? Or was it some spell from his master?

"What do you even want here?" Tav sat up in a huff.

"What do you want?" Astarion shot back.

"I don't know," Tav narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe to feel like I'm wanted?"

"Why do you think I invited you here?!" He spat.

Tav shrugged in exasperation. "If I wanted a well-oiled piston, I'd buy one from an artificer!"

"It's called skill, darling." Venom began to drip from his words. "Maybe one day you'll know what it looks like."

"Fuck skill, give me enthusiasm! If you're not enjoying it, then what's the point?!" Tav shook her head, scrambling to her feet. "If fucking me is such a chore, then you're relieved."

"Wait." Astarion reached out, but Tav was already out of his grasp. But she mercifully paused to look down at him.

His mind was a flurry of thoughts. "How…? You think I wasn't enjoying myself?"

Tav rolled her eyes. "I've had to fake it a time or two. I know what it looks like."

So she was one of those who cared about it being "real." But hells if he knew what real looked like anymore.

"But why do you care?" He frowned at Tav.

"Because I'm…sane?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not deranged? What kind of question is that?!" Her voice grew heated in offense. But after a pause, she softened a bit and sighed, sitting back down.

"Look, I'm not gonna ask any more on…whatever is going on with you right now. But I like you--so far--and there's no point doing any of this if you're not enjoying it. You'll be miserable, I'll be unsatisfied, and we'll both waste our time."

She treated this like it was basic, obvious. Maybe it was.

Gasps, moans of pleasure, nails digging in--those were just feedback to Astarion. His way of knowing that he was doing the right thing, touching the right spot. All those times seeing their pleasure was the goal, but never the prize.

It just then hit him. How utterly broken he was. A perfect mechanical doll, with skills honed to a degree that a courtesan could only dream of, but the part of him that would know something so fundamental as sharing pleasure with someone--broken.

He laughed bitterly.

Tav got dressed quickly, and stared down at Astarion. He was practically catatonic, lost in these thoughts.

"Here," she offered a hand.

He took it wordlessly and she pulled him to his feet, handing him his pants.

"We can try another night, if you're up for it." Her voice was so gentle.

He hated it, being treated like he was so fragile. But maybe he was. He didn't want to contemplate that possibility.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt so humiliated putting his clothes back on.

"Well, I'll…" Tav looked uncharactaristically awkward, and frankly Astarion found it unbecoming of this dangerously charming companion of his. "I'll see you at camp."

She stepped back, studying his face one last time before walking back into the trees towards the distant firelight.

Astarion backed up into the nearest tree and slid down, not even caring how it scraped his skin.

And for the first time in a very long time, Astarion allowed himself to shed a frustrated tear.

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.8k

A/N: Here it is, folks. The one you've all been waiting for. Enjoy. <3

I might have been a tiny wee bit self indulgent at one point in particular. Bet you can't tell where.

You frown as you swipe to answer the call from Scott. "Who died?"

"Woooow," a very familiar sarcastic response rings through your ear. "Can't a friend just call up another in this day and age?" You let the silence linger just long enough for him to then add, "Yeah, I'm chatting shit. No, I was going to ask, are you running late?"

You frown, "No, I'm not long about to close up now. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, Ralph texted me." He puts on a voice, the way you all do when talking about your flatmate. "Good afternoon, Scott. I hope you have been keeping well, and that the snow hasn't interrupted your daily life. I would like to request your assistance, I am aware that we have been tasked with making dessert for the Pal Valentine's Day meal later, but unfortunately I have noticed that we are severely lacking in eggs. I was simply wondering if, by chance you could bring some up to the flat? I would be most grateful, and willing to more than compensate you financially! Regards, Ralph."

You groan, "I asked him to get eggs this morning, he didn't want to because there were kids throwing snowballs and he was scared he'd get caught up in it. I told him to suck it up, because they can smell fear, but he's clearly too chicken-shit to go out there."

"Aww, he's never even had a snowball fight before? What even was his childhood?!" You rasp, hoping to quickly evade that topic. "Oh my god, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You grin, “I think I am. You wanna rally the troops?”

“On it.”

You look up from your phone, still giggling, to see two of your sales assistants watching you, looking at each other and waggling their eyebrows at each other. You shake your head, “At this point, you’re well beyond barking up the wrong tree! My friend Scott and I are planning something,” you flash your eyes mischievously, and they tut back at you.

“Well, at this point, it’s not like we were expecting you to have some hot date on the other end of the line, is it?” One of them jokes, nudging the other as they run off and busy themselves at the other end of the store, still cackling.

“You two are lucky you’re my favourites!” You shout after them with a laugh. “Can I trust you to close up tonight?”

“Nah, we’re gonna loot the place,” one answers with a false sincerity.

“You poor sods won’t find much here,” you point out. “But thank you, you’re the best!” You singsong as you head past them to the back room.

“Then pay us more!” Another jokes.

“If I had control over who earns what, d’you not think I’d have done that by now? You wound me,” you dramatically push your hand to your chest as you walk backwards through the door out of the main shop floor. Once you’ve collected all your belongings, and put on all your layers, it’s pretty much time to close anyway. You salute your colleagues with a, “Godspeed getting home tonight,” and brave the cold.

Since the roads hadn’t been salted by the time you needed to get to work, you’d walked there, and while you would much rather be sitting in a heated car than feeling your cheekbones freeze over, it’s quite nice to walk through the streets of Croydon, watching the thick snow fall with the slightest bit of sun still peeking through. A gentle little reminder that longer, warmer days are just around the corner, and that winter’s soon at an end.

You’re greeted in front of your tower block by all your friends, all with varying expressions. Scott and Connor are eagerly plotting, Anna still looks a little unsure, and Grace just looks like she’s fed up of the cold. “So, what’s the plan, who’s getting him to come downstairs?” you ask once you’re with them.

“That’s what we were just deciding,” Scott replies.

“My suggestion was that Anna would be the least suspicious, but she wants no part of this,” Connor pulls a face and Anna slaps his arm.

“Shut up! I still think it’s mean,” she frowns, and you hold her arm comfortingly.

“Listen, who’d you rather be the first people to engage Ralph in any kind of snow fight, us or those little pricks up there?” You jerk your head over to where a group of middle school-age boys are playing around together. 

She sighs, “Fine, but I’m aiming for his feet, okay?”

“Aw, but it’s fifty points if you hit his face,” Scott teases.

“Okay, okay, before Grace gets hypothermia, let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?” You ask, and Grace nods from somewhere beneath her fluffy hood. “Scott, he asked you to pick up those eggs, didn’t he? Just make up some guff about how they’ve locked the front doors so he needs to come push the button to let you in.”

Scott nods, texts something, and within a few minutes pumps his fist with excitement. “Okay, he says he’ll do it! I told him to wrap up and let me know when he’s on his way down.”

“Tell him you’ve had to step away from the doors so it doesn’t look like you’re loitering,” Connor adds, “so he can’t just run back.”

“Okay, this does feel a little mean, now,” you admit, and Anna looks at you incredulously.

“No, no, you don’t get to back out now! Not after all that talking me round!”

“Yeah, c’mon, you two have been smooth sailing for ages now, surely there’s something that you can only get off your chest by a one-time snowball pelting?” Scott asks, and you think for a moment.

“He did watch the rest of that new show we were watching without me and then spoiled the ending,” you ponder.

“Jail.” Grace pulls her hood back momentarily to stare at you with wide, serious eyes.

You nod, “Yeah. Or a snowball to the shoulder. Both are the same punishment, I think.”

“Totally,” Connor sneers, and you and Grace both flip him off - or you assume that’s why she’s holding the back of her hand up to him, it’s hard to tell with her wearing mittens, but it does put everyone into a heap of laughter.

Connor’s phone beeps, and he gasps as he looks at his screen. “Alright, gang, he’s on his way down! Lock and load.”

You all get into position, snowballs in gloved hands, as you watch Ralph push the door open with ease, walk through it and look back with a frown. He tentatively moves forward one cautious step at a time, his big baby-cow eyes darting around all the while. You all hide a little further back each time until he’s inevitably in line with you all. He looks at Scott first, then his hand, then around at all of you. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he whispers.

“This is for your own good, mate,” Connor grimaces as you all throw your missiles at him. With a half-scream, half-squawk sound, Ralph tensely curls himself up in self-defence, holding that position long after he’s been hit. “See, mate, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And that was all of us!”

“I thought you were all my friends,” he glares indignantly at you all, and you nod.

“Yeah, which is why we did it knowing you wouldn’t get hurt,” you point out. “You’re alright now, aren’t you?” He nods tentatively. “See? And the best bit, is now it’s your turn, and you get pick of the lot as to who you hit first.”

“Just hit me first, if you like, I won’t mind, and I won’t hit you again, either,” Anna shrugs, but Ralph studies all of you.

“Who’s idea was this?” He eventually asks Anna, who quickly points to you and Scott.

“Wooooow,” Scott shakes his head, but Anna simply flips him off.

Ralph bends down, eyes still flitting between all of you, as he grabs two handfuls of snow and immediately flings them both at the two of you. While you get a tiny little lump that just grazes your chest, at least he landed it with Scott, as that one flew out of his grip and straight into Scott’s mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Ralph’s lips and you all grin back at him.

“Okay, that was good, but a good snowball is two handfuls, smushed together into, yeah, that’s it, just like- ack!” Connor is silenced and humbled by Ralph throwing his third and far bigger snowball, straight into his stomach. “Prick,” he laughs as he scoops another one up to toss at Ralph again, who manages to evade it this time. “Mine was way bigger than theirs!” He makes another, adding, “Although, while I’m here, if you’re not retaliating…” Before extending himself to standing and throwing one at Anna with an almost evil cackle.

Anna gasps, “Only not to Ralph, asshole!” And throws one back at him with a giggle.

Before long, you’re all running around, including Ralph, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing like you were kids again. You’d never had thought, at your big age, that this is how you’d be spending a snowy day, but it brings back good memories of you and your four oldest friends, knocking at each other’s doors after the local news had announced that your school was closed, taking old bin lids up the steepest hills you could climb to slide down again. You look over at Ralph, with the apples of his cheeks glowing as red as his ears and the tip of his nose from all the cold, his whole face lit up as he catapults snowballs in the strangest fashion, and wonder what snow days must have been like for him. Obviously, he wasn’t sledding down hills on bin lids, but you’d have thought he and Victoria and their friends would have had friendly snowball fights. Though, you remember, from what you’ve learned of Victoria and her friends, perhaps those weren’t so friendly when aimed at Ralph.

Your thoughts are interrupted when another snowball hits Ralph, though not from any direction that any of you are standing. You all look over to the gang of young boys, snickering at each other for having landed one on “one of the oldies”, especially commending the offender for “getting the posh one”.

Though rage boils through all of you, it’s Grace, already warmed up from running around, who pushes her hood back to give them all a death stare and tell them, “You’ll regret that.”

As though called to arms, the five of you form a protective wall in front of Ralph and start hurling snowballs at the group of pre-teens at top speed until one of them yells, “Alright, alright, truce! Mercy! Whatever word gets you to stop!”

Just as you all stop, one more snowball flies up above all of you. Over your heads, down, down, and lands perfectly on top of the head of the kid that the others were praising for hitting Ralph. All your friends spin around on the spot so that all of you, as well as the boys, could stare in disbelief at Ralph, who has a small but very proud smile on his face. “Oi, that was sick!” One of the boys yells out. You mouth to Ralph that that’s a good thing as the other boys start laughing and cheering for him, too.

“Okay, alright, we’ve all had our fun,” you start holding your hands up in the air, “but this isn’t getting Palentine’s dinner ready, is it?”

“Isn’t it Valentine’s? That’s tomorrow, innit?” One of the boys answers.

“Nah, isn’t Pal-a-tine the wrinkly geezer from Star Wars?” Another asks.

“I thought it was that place that’s always fighting with Israel,” another comments.

“Maybe pay more attention to your teachers, yeah?” You ask them with a slight nod. You turn to the others. “Still meeting at Anna’s?” You ask, and they all non-verbally confirm. “Cool, see you guys in a bit. Ralphie!” You shout for him and he springs to attention, practically jumping to stand next to you. You smirk, “Ready to go get those eggs I asked for this morning?” He nods sadly and you nudge him towards the row of shops.

As you walk away, Ralph mutters, “I know I’m not supposed to interfere with knowledge about those world wars, but have there really already been ones in space, too?”

Had the snowball incident not already happened, you’d have absolutely messed with Ralph by convincing him that Star Wars were actual battles that took place in outer space. However, enough guilt consumes you that you correct him by trying to explain the entire movie franchise to him as you buy the eggs you need. Though he listens intently and nods attentively, you can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that nothing’s really going in, but at least he’s trying.

Baking with Ralph sounds like a nightmare, but he’s a diligent little helper when he’s trying. He measures your ingredients for you and he’s quick to wash up your equipment once you’re done with it. You’d only planned to go for the safe option of a simple sponge cake, predicting disaster, but the speed at which you’re all done leaves you pleasantly surprised. You’re even able to snap a little photo for Ralph’s instagram without him noticing. Once you’re all dolled up, he suggests you both take one to “show” his instagram and twitter accounts, but you opt to keep that one for just the camera roll. You’ve not seen or heard any speculation about your potential love life revolving around Ralph, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Once you finally get to Anna’s, after explaining that the boys outside of your flats had since decided to gather all the snow in the street to make one giant snowball, and had recruited you and Ralph to roll it when it got too big for them to, until you two couldn’t either. “Perfectly understandable reason,” Connor nods in understanding, and the others agree.

Once all the food is laid out, you’re glad that you all a) worked up an appetite and b) ended up pushing dinner back on top of that, because everybody preparing separate dishes has definitely overestimated what six portions of each part should be. Regardless, it’s another night of eating food, chatting away and ending with dancing around Anna’s living room, much like Ralph’s second night with you.

Another morning of February 14th, another empty bed to wake up in. You sit up, stretching out your arms, and grab your phone to look through the folder in your phone labelled “shitty mspaint valentines” to send to your friends and some of your coworkers, to make them laugh. You’re met with some laughing reactions, some rebuttals and a couple of reactions that you can tell were written with a sarcastic eye roll, which only spurs you on more.

You also post a photo you took yesterday to Ralph’s instagram, to keep his brand alive:

You’re about to drag yourself out of bed when the door opens to reveal Ralph, holding out a tray with two plates piled with waffles, two glasses of fruit juice and two mugs of tea. You watch him carefully set it at the foot of the bed and then sit next to you with your lower lip out in an affectionate pout. “Aww, Ralphie, what’s all this about?”

“Well, usually tradition would have it that Father and I would take Mother and Victoria breakfast in bed on St Valentine’s Day morning, as a tradition, and so Victoria insisted that tradition still be upheld even after our parents… Well, let’s not already put a dampener on the day before it starts! You’ll have to forgive the absence of flowers, I used to have the luxury of picking them out of the garden, but none of the plants in the flat are flowering, and it would be criminal of me to steal from others’ gardens, and all the florists were specifically selling bundles that were far too big for such a gesture, an-”

“Deep breath,” you coach him as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you still wanted to uphold your little tradition. You know, my dad used to leave me and Mum Valentine’s cards on the doormat, each from “a secret admirer”, though it used to terrify me at first because I didn’t realise it was him!” You pull a face as you take a bite out of a waffle, and Ralph laughs softly. “’Course, after a while, it’d get a bit embarrassing having your dad be your Valentine, but hey, it was one more than I’ve been getting these past few years!” You finish your mouthful and wave the rest of the waffle at him. “These are pushing the boat out for you! Get you!”

“Yes, my dear American friend recommended them to me! And I managed to successfully cook them in the toaster oven!” Ralph chimes gleefully.

“Look at you go!” You beam proudly. “Soon enough, you won’t even need me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous,” he mutters under his breath just before taking a big sip of his tea. “Any plans for the day?”

“You mean, other than beating the hoards of men waiting for me outside that door with a stick?” You joke, and Ralph chuckles lightly. You shake your head. “Might just do another self-care day. Be my own Valentine, as if things weren’t sad enough!”

“Well, perhaps I could join you, and we would be our own ones together,” Ralph offers. He awaits your reaction with bated breath. If that goes well, perhaps he could segue into asking you to be his actual Valentine, and that would be at least one more step above simply being housemates, over being bedmates, even.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe you could ask Ralph if he’s willing to take it the slightest step further and be each other’s Valentines. It’s just an arbitrary title, really, but at least you’d have one this year. And, whenever Ralph finally leaves, at least you can remember him as more than just your flatmate who you platonically shared a bed with. Wistfully reminiscing over a Valentine does sound more romantic.

But, you have to respect his boundaries. If he felt comfortable enough to make you breakfast in bed, he would have accompanied it with a request for you to be his, but he didn’t. He’s offering to be his own Valentine, parallel to you. Message received. “That’d be nice!” You put all your effort into trying not to sound disappointed.

It works, as Ralph reads your reaction as being very happy with that idea, and he daren’t tread over that line. “Very well. So, what does being your own Valentine mean?”

“For me? Junk food, junk TV, and in this weather, wearing at least two blankets at all times,” you count off on your fingers, making Ralph laugh. “Though I better head out and get you some of your favourites, too.”

He frowns, “There’s no need, you’ll catch your death of cold out there!”

“I mean, obviously I’d get dressed first,” you pull a face. “But yeah, you deserve to get spoiled a little, too. I mean, you did all this for me,” you gesture to the tray, but Ralph rasps flippantly. “Plus,” you add with a smirk, “don’t want you hoarding all my favourite snacks.”

“There it is!” Ralph grins, pointing a finger to you and leaning in so it hovers close to your nose, making you laugh.

“You caught me!” You hold your hands up in mock guilt. “I’ll head out in a bit, okay?”

Once breakfast is over, and you’ve washed up after you both despite Ralph insisting he would do it and trying to get in - which resulted in some rather creative ways of blocking him out of the kitchen - you get dressed ready to brave yet another cold front.

You know what Ralph’s most favourite sweets are. Jelly Babies. But the ones he loves the most aren't the kind you can get from any shop - of course not, that would be too easy, and this is Ralph. No, his favourites come from an old fashioned sweet shop that lives on the same street as the shop he works in. You remember its location vividly. as you'd made a point to think about memorising it and nothing else the day you'd dropped off a treat to Ralph while at work and seen his latest idea in action - an immersive display where he dresses up to fit in with it too. But you'd firmly blocked that mental image out of your head. Of him surrounded by Wild West imagery while wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt and very well-fitting jeans. You definitely hadn’t focused on that at all.

The trek to the old high street is a long one, especially since the snow that wasn’t quite gritted over had formed a barrier of sludge along the roadside that was creeping into the remnants of yesterday’s clean, soft, crunchy snowfall. You make the most of the childlike wonder that comes from stomping through it while you can, before it inevitably ices over into a deathly lumpy terrain.

You spot someone ahead hobbling through the snow, walking in your direction. You watch them carefully, unsure whether to try and help, casually walk past or actively avoid them, when an unmistakably pungent aroma precedes them. You study them a little closer and shout in recognition, “Homeless Pete!”

The man looks up and grunts at you. “How‘ve you been? Not seen you in ages!” He shrugs. Heart sinking, you note, “You were walking with quite a purpose there. Headed anywhere in particular?” Your fears are confirmed when he points over to the block of flats Ralph showed you that he’d emerged from almost half a year ago. “Oh… Today? It’s working?!” You ask, feeling your heart hurl through the ground. He nods, then gestures to you and flashes you a hopeful look. “What?! No! Not me! No, d’you remember, you brought a guy back with you from the 20s? Well, not these 20s, the nineteen-twenties.” 

He looks blankly at you. You groan, “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of past Pete who doesn’t know about Ralph, I don’t need a migraine today.” The name seems to resonate with Pete, which is promising. “Yes! Ralph! You remember! He was all dressed up like he was in the army! And he ended up coming back with you! And then he ended up with me! S’pose I better… Could you hold off on using it until I can get him there, too?” Your words hang heavy with sadness, but you knew this day was coming.

Pete stands there in silence for a moment, thinking. He traces the air from time to time, then claps his hands, making you jump. He mimes scratching at a beard along his own stubble-covered jaw. “You mean, you’ve seen Ralph with a beard now?” He nods, pointing downwards in front of himself. “You’ve spoken to him?” Another nod. Pete looks up at the tower block, then at you, gestures with two hands towards the building, then makes an X shape with his arms, waving them down. 

“Please just fucking speak, mate.” You sigh, but he just repeats his actions. As you look lost again, he holds his two hands out again, but stops, looking at you in waiting. “So, that’s you and Ralph?” You guess, and he nods. He moves his hands up towards the building. “You and Ralph went to the place with the… Time machine.” Saying it out loud still sounds insane, even after all this time. He holds one hand close to him, and waves the other one out at you. “Is that one meant to be him?” Another nods, and then the crossed-arms gesture. You frown. “Ralph… Didn’t go in with you?” He shakes his head. “Why not?” He shrugs.

The sorrow and confusion you’ve been feeling this whole conversation start to curdle into all kinds of other feelings. There’s still some confusion there, but mostly it’s anger, frustration, disbelief. He knew how cautious you were about this day finally arriving. He knew of all the countless sleepless nights you’d spent trying to figure out things like how to hide him from your landlord, what to do if he ever falls ill. He knew that every time you picked up your post, you feared a letter from the government with big red letters asking to confirm the identity of the man who’s been claiming to live there despite not being legally registered to. He knows that you’ve been up until all hours some nights searching desperately for some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, since it can’t just be something that only Homeless Pete knows about.

Things had been going so well, especially since Christmas. You’d made peace with the fact that the clock was very much ticking with how long you’d have left with Ralph, and especially after Brighton, you had been telling yourself over and over to not sweat the small stuff, and to just enjoy having him around. You’d figured that with your feelings for him growing stronger the more that he’s around, it’s better for everyone if, instead of constantly counteracting them with the negatives, you’d just let yourself get over him quietly. 

Maybe you should have been more forceful. Created more boundaries. Made it more obvious that he can’t just cheat his own fate, who knows what kind of damage he’s done to… Literally the entire universe, anything could be possible! You’d thought you’d always made it so clear to Ralph to always be preparing for the day he goes back. That no matter how great the life is he’s made for himself here, at the end of the day, all this is, is a learning experience for him to take this level of confidence back with him to his own time.

Forgoing the sweet shop, and any other shop for that matter, you make a beeline home, your steps far more deliberate and angry than the gentle march you had been taking through the snow. Even the sight of the lift in your building angers you, so you push your way up the stairs up until the ninth floor, storming through your front door.

Ralph looks over at you from where he sits on the sofa, delight on his face, which quickly falls when he sees your expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Is it?!” You screech. “Have a guess who I saw out there.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure, I didn’t quite think there was anyone out there who upset you to that degree. Would you like some tea or something to calm down?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to ‘calm down’ when you are the reason I haven’t felt ‘calm’ for almost six months now!” You hold your forehead, and Ralph looks back at you, confused, sad and a little scared.

“I - I quite apologise, is there something I’ve done that’s brought this -”

“Don’t you go giving me the ‘oh, yes, quite’ spiel,” you mock his tone, “not when you’ve been lying to me under my own roof! I trusted you!” You stop yourself when you hear your voice crack at that last sentiment.

He swallows hard. “In what respect have I been dishon-”

“I saw H.P. while I was out, didn’t I?! Going towards that block of flats. So I tell him, I say, oh hang about, Pete, let me go grab Ralph so he can go back. And what do you think he told me?!” You ask, now stood next to the couch, squatting down to get eye level with Ralph.

His eyes dart as he wrings his hands, his eyes squeezing shut and open over and over again. “Yes, well, you see, that -”

“Right, all this umm-ing and ahh-ing is just… Annoying me even more,” you state, rubbing your temples. “I just want the facts, Ralph.”

“You said not to talk about anything from that weekend,” he mutters, and you look at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been holding out on me about this since November?!” You ask incredulously.

“You said! Not to talk! About anything! From that weekend!” Ralph jumps to his feet, punctuating every gap in his sentence with a chop to his palm.

You stand back up to level with him. “Yeah, as in all the shit about - God, are we really gonna drag all of that into light again, now?!”

“Well, if we could just talk about it, calmly,” Ralph gesticulates, but you scoff.

“You gave up all rights to that the moment you started lying to me,” your voice shakes. “It’s you, Ralph. You’re the one person I don’t expect to lie to me, since I don’t lie to you.”

He rasps in disbelief. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Or else you wouldn’t react so harshly. There’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there? Has your sense of charity finally worn, is that it?” He speaks with the venom in his tone that you’ve only ever heard whenever he’s talking about himself. “What, have you been counting the days down until you could throw me back out? Is that why you’re up until the ungodly hours, researching how to get rid of me sooner?”

You groan, pressing your fingers into your eyelids. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t just keep making yourself the victim here when that obviously isn’t what I want!”

“Ah, yes, well, you must forgive me for not realising sooner that everything here is exactly as it always has been for my entire life,” Ralph spits. “People pretending to care about me to then use me for my money, or my social status, is one thing, but I have nothing here. Nothing but… Being a pitiful little man.”

“How many more times are we going to have this argument, Ralph? Everybody loves you here!” You punctuate every syllable of the first word with claps. “It’s not just because they pity you, because they don’t know you! They don’t know how you got here, or anything about your shitty family, people just like you! You have to stop being so narrow-minded and start seeing how this,” you gesture in circles in front of him, “affects the rest of us! Especially me, I’m out here having to - to keep track of what secrets I’m keeping and what lies I’m telling to who.”

“Yes, well. Nobody asked you to,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

Your blood now boiling, and all rationality out of the window, you scoff, “Oh, so now you’re ungrateful?!” His eyes snap to yours, but you carry on before he can interrupt you again. “I put my job on the line every time I have to leave early for you. I put my entire livelihood on the line harbouring a fugitive that doesn’t legally exist anywhere, not to mention that I have no clue what to do if you ever need urgent medical attention, if my landlord suddenly decides to kick me out, I don’t know how I’m going to keep them from finding out about you and potentially charging me a fuckton extra, I just - You can’t just think about everything I risk for you even once, can you?”

He frowns, “How dare you say that I don’t care?! I keep a healthy diet, despite all the times you decide we’ll just take away food instead, I keep to myself as much as possible other than the things that you have me do, and whenever I do leave the flat, I leave no trace that I was ever here!”

“Look, we’re getting away from the main problem, here, and I’m not skirting around it any more,” you shake your head. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Strictly speaking, I’ve never told a lie, merely omitted my meeting with Peter from any conversation between you and I,” he points out, and you scowl at him. He sighs, “But you don’t understand. If I told you that, you’d want to know why. And I can’t - there are far bigger things at play here,” he shakes his head.

You look at him in disbelief, “Like what?! Are you some kind of time-travelling spy? An intergalactic detective?”

“Clearly not,” Ralph scoffs.

“Then what, Ralph?” You raise your voice. “What possible reason do you have for - for causing me all that grief all those months ago, just to then go against the one thing you were supposed to do, putting the fate of whatever’s out there at risk all while only living the life of half a person, hm? Why would you choose to stay here like this?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, obviously!”

You and Ralph stare at each other for what feels like hours of silence. His wide, terrified eyes boring into yours as his whole face turns red. His lip quivers and then, suddenly, he pushes past you as you’re still frozen on the spot. You just about turn around to see the last of him rush out of the door, carrying his shoes in his hand.

His coat still hangs on the door, and you can see the snow is falling again. Not realising you’d been holding a breath in the whole time, you groan it out as you grab his coat, wrapping it around your arm to avoid it dragging on the floor, and head out to follow him. You see the display above the lift counting down and curse yourself for having worn yourself out on the way up here earlier.

You huff your way back down the stairs and try to find any trace of where Ralph could have gone. You study the footprints in the snow, vaguely recognising some in the shape of Ralph’s shoes, and decide that it’s as good a lead as any to try and follow them, though they quickly disappear once you get to the main street area. You notice someone loitering and decide it’s worth a shot.

Running across the road to meet them, you ask, “I know this sounds strange, but have you seen a guy go past? Had on a fuzzy blue jumper and no coat, I mean like -”

“Like he was wearing the Cookie Monster’s skin?” They ask with amusement. You sigh with relief, nodding hurriedly and they point, “Went towards the old high street, looked like he was tweaking.”

You thank them and start running as quickly as the resistance from the snow will allow you. It doesn’t help that the wind happens to be blowing the snowfall directly into your face, causing you to constantly stop to rub your eyes or sputter at whatever lands on your mouth.

Once you get back to the street you’d just been to moments before, you sigh with exhaustion as there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. You still begin pacing the street, looking in every shop window that you pass. You wonder whether he’s hiding at his work, where you wouldn’t be able to get near him, and whether it would be worth asking in there. You’re on good enough terms with his colleague now, and perhaps the eclectic owner of the store might lift your spirits a little. There’s an awful lot of emotional weights on your chest right now, and you’re not sure which ones you’re supposed to be holding. You’re not entirely sure of anything right now, other than that you need to find Ralph.

Not paying attention to what’s in front of you at all, you end up almost vaulting over some poor baby’s stroller as their mother tries to get past you. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You apologise hurriedly, and she looks at you with a weirdly knowing smile.

“You looking for the guy who’s been cutting about in just his jumper?” She asks, gesturing to the coat in your arms.

Your eyes widen, “Yes! Oh my god! Have you seen him?!”

“Nice fella, helped me get the little’un across the road amongst all the snow. Really posh?” You nod again, hoping to egg her along. She eventually tells you, “Yeah, I told him to hurry up and get inside, he’ll catch his death! He went over there, towards them flats.” You don’t even need to look in the direction she’s pointing to know where she means.

You thank her profusely, adding a, “Cute baby!” over your shoulder as you quickly make your way down to your next clue.

Thankfully, it’s more than just that, as you find Ralph leaning against the wall of the building just next to the front door, squatting not far from the ground, his arms crossed over his torso and his head sunk low.

He doesn’t look at you as you walk over to him, but you hold his coat out in front of him. “At least put this on, yeah? That mum’ll have your throat, otherwise.” He silently reaches out for it and stands to put it on.

“He’s not here,” he mutters quietly. “Peter, I mean.”

“So, that was your answer to all of this?” You ask, your voice strangely calm considering how tumultuous your internal monologue is. “To just run back to your old life and leave this one all unanswered and up in arms? No care as to how it’d affect anyone else?”

“Of course I care about - well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag. Of course I care about you. It’s why I thought I shan’t burden you any further. I’ve already insulted your generosity by assuming you hadn’t the agency to tell me that you didn’t want me, without taking into account that perhaps you were being genuine. It’s what caused all that trouble when we were in Brighton. And I didn’t want you to feel any more obligated to do anything more out of - I can’t describe it as anything other than pity, but I never wanted you to feel as though you had to pity me, either.”

You sigh, “Look, I get it. It’s complicated as all fuck. Trust me, I’ve been trying to work out all the ins and outs and ups and downs of it all for months, now. But anything here, it just - we don’t know what it’s gonna do, you know? There’s far bigger forces at play here, you literally travelled through time, surely that’s cocked the universe up cosmically somehow? I don’t even know,” you groan in frustration.

“Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay unless I absolutely knew it wasn’t going to put you at any risk. But Peter stated that… Lauren and the rest, they’ve yet to make any sort of return. And since they could have chosen any time, they surely would have by now. I think… I think they stayed, in the past. And it’s not as though the sky’s turned upside down as a result, or that the world is being run by lizard people, now.”

“Depends on who you ask,” you mutter to yourself with a smirk, before looking over at Ralph. “I’m just hurt that you didn’t think to tell me. I know, I know, it was that weekend, but still. You could have told me that you’d thought it safe to stay, regardless of when you’d figured it out.”

“Would you have still been mad at me?” He asks quietly.

“Honestly? Probably,” you shrug. “I’d probably have argued the toss with you over every single possibility that things could still go wrong. But I’d never, ever force you to come here. Haven’t I been saying it all along? I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been dreading the day that you’re not in my bed anymore, that the flat becomes too quiet again, that I’ll have to spend my evenings watching TV alone without your constant nagging.”

“I thought that rather bothered you,” the hint of a soft smile just about tugs at the corners of Ralph’s lips.

“Oh, it does,” you admit, laughing softly, “but I don’t even want to think about a life where I won’t hear any of that, again. You know, and - and just being reminded of you all the time. All our friends always asking after you, and talking about you, never letting me get over you. I’d stay up at night, staring at the bedroom door from the sofa, wondering what’d be worse; that, or you living your old life meaning that you’d never have existed in mine, meaning I’d have no memory of you at all.”

“I’d always perished the thought of leaving - well, all of you, but especially you,” Ralph’s voice is still quiet. “You’d always - always tell me to tell my sister and Lauren to shove it, but honestly, I don’t think I could ever do that without you there with me. Even if they were to throw me out and I had to find my own way around, nobody else would hold a candle to…” He takes a deep sigh. “I always… I know I’ve always been the hopeless romantic, it’s one of my biggest flaws. And after falling for Lauren as soon as I’d seen her, and everything that happened thereafter, I swore to myself that I’d never let myself do that, again. That’s why I joined the French Foreign Legion, so I could focus on the task at hand, and learning how to build a camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. Except none of them wanted to do that. And so I left, and I ended up right here, and it was only a few streets away that -”

“That some dickhead spilled coffee all over you,” you finish his sentence with a smirk.

“I told you then as well, didn’t I, you’re far from one of those,” Ralph looks at you softly. “But I felt it all come back again. Everything I felt when I first saw Lauren. And before Lauren, when it was Maggie. And before Maggie, when it was - oh, heavens, you don’t need to hear about all my failings. But every time, I acted too quickly, and I only caused myself shame and heartbreak. And when I ended up here, I needed - well, something or someone, anything to anchor me, I had no clue what was happening to me. But you were so kind to me, from the very beginning. And I didn’t want to jeopardise your generosity by ruining it the same way I ruin most other things. So I kept my feelings to myself, for once, hoping that the time to leave would catch up before I let my feelings grow. But here we are,” he sighs. “I suppose I shall have to come clean to the others, and seek refuge with one of them. Though not one of your friends as well, I would never put you in that position. I’d have to perhaps tell Loz, out of all of those…”

You frown, “But why would you have to?” He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him, “You’ve not once asked me how I feel about you.”

“Yes, well, you made some things rather obvious in the flat,” he replies coolly.

“Fair enough,” you nod, “but don’t you think I’d only overreact like that if I was really upset? And that I’d only be that upset if I cared about you so much that it’d break my heart to think you could have lied to me? You’ve yet to ask me how I feel about all of this.”

Ralph wrings his hands together, wincing as though bracing for a physical impact as he asks, “Of course, my apologies. So… How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say,” you admit, trying not to laugh at his offended face. “Okay, I know, I’m being a dick again. I’m just… I dunno, even though, like, I know now that I can say it, it’s still not easy to just, say out loud for the first time.” You let out a long and shaky breath. “I think that… I’ve never been in love before. But if feeling safer being around you, and always wanting to share my life with you, and dreading the day I never see you again, and my heart soaring every time your face lights up with happiness… I think all of those things are the kind of guff people talk about in those romance films. And I didn’t think those kinds of feelings happened in real life, but… I think I know it, now.” You hold his face in your hands and finally say the words that have been dying to leave you all this time. “I love you, Ralph.”

He looks awestruck back at you. You study his face for any other reaction at all, and after a few beats, any sign of life since he remains unmoving, but he soon gleefully grins, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, moving your arms to wrap around his neck as you press peck after peck against his lips. His arms wrap around your waist as you just kiss him, and nothing else, because nothing else matters. You only break away from each other for air, and to turn your heads to then resume kissing each other as the snow falls around you both.

It’s only when someone clears their throat to get your attention, commenting, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but Christ on a bike,” as they push past you, that you actually step away from each other for more than a split second.

You catch Ralph’s eye and hold your hand out to him, “Wanna go get some jelly babies, put on those face masks that make you look like you’re glowing and curl up watching crappy movies and stuffing our faces?”

“I could enjoy watching paint dry in your company, my love,” Ralph smiles warmly at you as he takes your hand, and you take a step back, aghast, but still intertwined with him.

“And where was Ralph the smooth-talker hiding this whole time?!” You ask incredulously, laughing as you fall into step with him.

“Oh, that’s nothing, darling,” he comments, and your heart flies into your throat. You’d heard him call you that in your dreams a hundred times over, but actually hearing it drives you wild. “As I said, I’ve always been quite the hopeless romantic. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing that at full throttle, now.”

You cackle so hard you bend double. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m gonna see Full Throttle Ralph,” you just about manage to choke out the name through your laughter, and he frowns at you.

“I’m simply warning you that, in agreeing to our courtship, you understand that Ralph Penbury does nothing by halves.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna have to do a lot of catching up, then!” You joke, but he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, good gracious, no, you certainly don’t have to do that! You already do more than enough for me, and I don’t show love just to receive it back, anyway,” he shakes his head.

The journey back to your flat takes the best part of an hour, mostly because you keep interrupting your walk to pull Ralph in for more kisses on the way. You can’t help it, the way his face blushes with the cold just makes him look so adorable, who wouldn’t want to kiss him?!

Plus, when you’d gone to pick his sweets up, he’d told you he had somewhere else to be, run out of the shop, and returned minutes later just as you were leaving, with a bunch of flowers. “I’m cutting it a little short, I know, but would you like to be my Valentine?” He asks as he offers you them.

You take them as you exchange the bag of his sweets into his hands, gasping, “How did you find these so last minute?!”

“Well, they were in our window display,” he admits bashfully, and you laugh.

“Wait, these are from your shop?!”

Ralph nods. “Yes, but I don’t think they mind, too much. Babs was punching the air and telling me to ‘Get in, my son’, but I couldn’t leave you outside and I was technically born in time to be her father, let alone son,” he shakes his head, causing you to laugh even more.

“Shit, I forgot to answer you, didn’t I?!” You look over at Ralph adoringly. “I’d love to be your Valentine, Ralphie. D’you wanna be mine? I’m afraid the sweets won’t last nearly as long as these, as an offering, but -”

“They’re perfect. As is my Valentine this year,” he beams, kissing the part of your forehead not obscured by your hat.

Once you get home, you change out of your snow-soaked clothes and decide to wear the pyjamas you’d both gotten for Christmas from your parents. You wonder whether to tell your friends right off the bat what’s happened today. You know Ralph can keep a secret, but ever since you’d said those four words to him, he’s been practically shouting his devotion to you from the rooftops. As much as you can’t wait to share in this big milestone of yours with your best friends, you just want nothing more than some uninterrupted time to spend catching up with all the affection you’ve been so desperately wanting to give to Ralph this whole time, and vice versa. Besides, they’ve all got dates tonight, too. You don’t want to interrupt their evenings. That’s what you’ll tell them when they inevitably find out.

Instead, you spend the afternoon and well into the evening pampering yourself and your - Boyfriend? What would you even call Ralph? Although that remains short lived as he realises that face masks are just a barrier preventing more kissing from happening, and he pouts until he’s got full access once again. Every peck comes with its own sweet nothing - a declaration of love, a compliment, a comment of gratitude. Although he’d told you it wasn’t necessary, you do try to match his energy - but it just becomes exhaustive after a while.

You had your heart set on ordering from your favourite Chinese takeaway from this morning, before the day's events had transpired, but Ralph is more than happy to eat from there, as well. You even go so far as to try and teach him how to hold chopsticks, though his adorable attempts to keep interlocking your fingers to pull your hand to his lips to to kiss it instead are far more adorable.

After watching some cheesy rom-coms - or rather, spending the night cuddling and constantly kissing Ralph some more while Sandra Bullock tries to find love over and over on the TV - you eventually retire to bed. As you do, your phone chimes its specific tone to tell you the group chat has updated. Laying in bed, you unlock your phone to see a photo of Scott and his partner, on their sofa with a glass of wine each, which is then followed by Grace sharing a snap of her and her boyfriend wearing face masks together in her bathroom. Anna sends a mysterious snap of two fancy-looking meals and two glasses being clicked together, one certainly in her own hand but the other is held by a mystery man, and Connor shares a very sweet photo of him and Ralph's friend Lauren in a restaurant booth together.

Ralph's head rests on top of yours as you show him the photos, and you can feel his smile getting wider at the photo of his two friends from different parts of his life here sitting so closely together. You lean your head up to grin at him, "Should we?”

He smiles back at you as you switch to your camera app. You aim it at you and Ralph and look back over at him, for him to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, smiling into it, and tap at the screen, your muscle memory still knowing exactly where the shutter is without having to see the screen. You type “happy vday from me and my valentine, too 😘”, hit send, laugh loudly with Ralph as you see all four speech bubbles show up at once, and then put your phone on silent and lay it face-down on your nightstand.

You roll back over to snuggle up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin as he embraces you. “Goodnight, my love,” you hear him whisper in your ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Night, Ralphie. Love you,” you mutter back, holding him tight and breathing in deeply, finally free to indulge all you want in the prospect of having a relationship with the man you’ve been in love with for the last five months.

next chapter

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Could u maybe write something with grey from Fate? I’m thinking like angst to fluff with fem reader being a blood witch? If not totally cool! Have a nice day 🫧

i can do the second part and just make it fluffy! I basically don't do anything else- BUT™ I got inspired today (or yesterday idfk) so I'm gonna change up povskay nevermind I wanted to but I forgot the second I started writing, blame my bad memory

(new grey gif!!!! I'm so sorry that aisha is in there tho lmao. also. um. I hope this gif isn't from episode seven and if it is fucking don't tell me I'm just ignoring it because I still haven't finished that one)

"Grey?", you asked, barely understanding your own whisper. You yawned, almost hitting your face with your hand as you tried to cover your mouth. Not that anyone would've seen it. Not in this darkness. Not in your room, anyway. The only people here were you and Grey.

Though he didn't answer. You rolled onto your side and patted the mattress for him. But even after a minute of searching, you couldn't find him.

"Grey?", you repeated with a frown, a bit louder this time, your voice still hoarse from sleep. Still no response.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and grabbed your phone from the bedside table. It took a few tries for you to find it.

"Grey?", you said again, narrowing your eyes as you looked at the time. 4:23. What the actual fuck. Where was Grey? There was no way he was in the bathroom, otherwise you'd see the light through the gap in the door. Alright, shit, you'd need to get out of bed and find him now.

Barefoot, you tiptoed out of the room, using your phone as a torch. You avoided the doorframe by a millimetre, cursing under your breath. The ground was cold. You really should've taken a second and put some socks on.

"Grey?", you whispered into the dark living room, pointing your phone at all the furniture from left to right.

When you saw him, you had to chuckle. He was cuddled up on the couch, one foot already hanging off it, the blanket carelessly thrown over himself, an arm somehow sticking up into the air. He was somehow looking both cute and really- well, you couldn't even describe it. Instead, you opened the camera app on your phone, pointed it at him and took a pic.

You'd have to wake up in a few hours anyway. Better leave him here sleeping peacefully (for whatever reason, you'd ask him in the morning) rather than wake him up now.

With another look at him, you turned around again and got back into bed. You were just settling in when the mattress dipped down.

"Did you take a picture of me?", he asked, voice husky. A smile on your lips, you rolled around to face him, scooting back to make space.

"Did you really think I wasn't going to?", you laughed, waiting for him to lay down.

He shrugged, which you couldn't see, but feel now that he was next to you again.

"Why'd you go out there in the first place?", you whispered, chuckling as he pulled you close and closer. He was warm, despite barely having been under a blanket.

"Thought I'd sleep better there", he answered. You brushed your fingertips over his chest, drawing some pattern, or maybe not, just allowing yourself to soothe you and him both.

"Still nightmares?", you asked. He'd been having them for months.

"Yeah", he sighed.

For a while, you stayed silent. You couldn't help him, you hadn't been able to before and you wouldn't now. But you knew that you could at least calm him down or distract him.

"Want to pick out a podcast or something and just make out with me?", you suggested, grinning, even though he couldn't see, and propped your chin up on his torso.

"It's half past four", he reminded you. You tilted your head to the side and traced your fingers down his arm, from his shoulder to his hand, which was resting comfortably on your waist.

"And?"

He laughed. You took that as an answer and leaned forward.

The two of you still had some hours left after all.

[taughtdefense]

✌ Is there anything you dislike about the mun? 

ethan answers questions about mia / always accepting / @controlsnature

there's a long, long stretch of dead silence that's somehow simultaneously knowing & amused as you tilt your head to the side, like you're seriously doing a first ever run-through of a bulleted check-list of what you don't like about her. of course this question was gonna come up eventually. you & mia just think it's hilarious that this was the first one asked.

i/you/we think the first answer to that question's pretty much the opposite of intact & wet. my/your/our internal, younger voice adds unhelpfully. ...that is to say, cut & dry. ( wade's been teaching me/you/us about the vast, wonderful world of verbal expressions human use. this is one of them. )

you give a long, deliberately slow blink. first things first... ❝ thank void my creators aren't here. fucking void above. they'd say something along the lines of the fact that she's made me break free of their control, fell in love with robby, yada yada yada. the bullshit they loathe me for, which isn't anything new that i haven't heard in some capacity before. ❞ you mutter. they're nothing if not consistent in their hatred of you. but the chaotic light in your eyes is suddenly flecked with sarcasm. ❝ if i listed the full amount of reasons out in complete detail, we'd be here for a hot second. ❞ your cadence remains flat, then, brighter, you say: ❝ nah. i'm just fucking with you. i'll spare you that list for now & give you the first gripe that popped up in my brain. ❞ with that, you lift your shirt up at the hem just a little bit, just enough to point towards the white stab scar above your abs, given to you by silver.

silver's a prick of colossal, immeasurable proportions, by the way. very rude garbage stinky man, almost killing him/me/us like that. i/you/we went to the old cobra kai dojo to defend our friends & all i/you/we got was everlasting trauma across all universes. ...someone should put that on a t-shirt.

❝ i don't like the fact that she throws me into increasingly dangerous situations, even if it's in the interest of saving lives. but don't get me wrong. there's zero hesitancy from me here on that front; i have no qualms about risking my life... well, lives... to protect the people i love. but there's a difference between doing it once & then continuing that trend. the intensity, & unhinged-ness of those situations makes me think what the fuck is wrong with her? in the words of mads, which basically summed it up perfectly... ethan: why am I dying again? us: to give us angst. ethan: oh yay I'm a sacrifice. ❞ you pause. then, much softer, you add: ❝ ...sorry, my love. ❞ you shrug your shoulders. ❝ & i know i'm literally able to hit respawn like i'm one of those void-damned mushroom plumbers or whatever they're both called. i've done that plenty of times before. i just wish it was less... dunno, frequent. not to mention the increasingly concerning scenarios that she cooks up in that mind of hers. ❞

i/you/we lowkey Fear™ mads somehow suddenly gaining the technological knowledge of how humans can teleport from place to place... but specifically to only Deck the mun in the face every time she piles more angst on top of what she's already suggested... which is a lot. it'll happen eventually, just you wait.

❝ simply put, while i can merely attempt to defy my creators all i wish, i cannot defy mia. full stop. no ifs, &s, or buts. ❞ you grimace slightly.

❝ the second thing i don't like is... ❞ yep. get cozy, everybody. you're all going to be here all night.

[dw-writes]

Afterlife - Gojo Satoru x Death!Reader

Summary: Gojo Satoru is dead, and it’s your job to escort him to the afterlife.

Genre: Gen Fic

TW: Major Character Death, canon compliant if you squint? (since he’s Gojo and Unstoppable (tm)), Angst

A/N: I had to. I apparently have a thing for making strong men cry so? I had to. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY IT!!

Similar: Afterlife - Fushiguro Toji || Afterlife - Nanami Kento || Afterlife - Gojo Satoru || Afterlife - Fushiguro Megumi || Afterlife - Ryomen Sukuna

“Well, this blows,” you grumbled.

“You’re tellin’ me,” huffed Gojo Satoru, rubbing his neck, glancing back at your approaching form with ice blue eyes. He’d lost the blindfold at some point during his fight. You couldn’t complain. He was gorgeous.

“I had a bet that you’d live forever, you know,” you teased, “Now I gotta pay up.”

He grinned. You’d admit, you were caught off guard. “Shoulda told me there was a bet,” he mused, “I woulda fought harder.” Then, he inclined his head towards you. “Have we met before?”

“Once,” you replied as you stopped before him, almost toe to toe, “But you didn’t wanna stick around.”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “Sorry about that. You’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I had stuff to do.”

It was your turn to smile. “You don’t have to apologize, Gojo. You did more than enough to make up for it.” Then, you held out your hand. “You ready?”

His eyes turned back to where he’d been staring – a battlefield far far beneath you both, a sight he would’ve been familiar with if his lifeless body hadn’t been amongst the wreckage – and his hand hovered over yours, hesitant to accept. You traced your nails over his palm. He jumped, a faint surprised giggle passing his smiling lips.

“Yeah,” he said, “Guess I am.”

You gave his hand a squeeze, one he returned to hide the tremble that snaked through his fingers. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“Not really,” he replied, “Where’re we goin’?”

“Where do you think?” you asked. Before he could answer, you stuttered, “You know, you’re talking this awfully well.”

“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet,” he said with a wistful sigh and a smile, “Still think I’m gonna wake up again. Like last time.”

A frustrated wail cut through the silent night. He winced at the sharpness.

You looked down at the scene beneath you. “Do you wanna--”

“No.” He squeezed your hand again.

You sat back against nothing, drawing your legs up into the air to cross them beneath your body. He mimicked you, his weight leaning into your shoulder as he adjusted the hold he had on your hand. He stared out over the Tokyo skyline and sighed something heavy.

“I got distracted,” he murmured as the sky started to darken. He turned a bitter smile towards you. “By a pretty face.”

“That seems to be a weakness of yours,” you mused.

He gave something of a scoff, something of a laugh, and leaned back on the air to stare at the stars. You wondered if his Six Eyes worked even in death and wondered how far into the past he could see when staring up through the sky.

“Can’t fault a guy for liking pretty things, can you?” he asked. It wasn’t a question meant for an answer. “Worse ways to die, I guess. I didn’t even feel it. Didn’t even notice.”

“She dispelled your Limitless,” you said.

Gojo’s wide eyes slid to you, and an eyebrow arched high behind his hair. “Yeah,” he mused, “How’d you hear about that?”

You smiled and waved your entwined hands. “I have insider information.”

“The guy you placed your bet with.”

“Mhmm,” you answered, “But you can take that up with him.”

He grinned, then snickered, and eventually dissolved into light and breathless laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye and turned to you. “So, wait, you guys are friends then, huh?”

“Is that so surprising?” you asked, “I’m friends with a lot of people from your world.”

“Sorcerers?”

“And then some.”

“Huh.” He leaned towards you. “I guess that’s not so bad, then.”

“I never said it was.”

More voices floated up to you from the ground, each of them more distraught than the last. Gojo’s eyes fell past his feet and he watched the scene in silence. You, in turn, watched his face. He didn’t give anything away. It was a blank face, one you knew he’d worn often in life. It must’ve been hard to shake.

“You can be upset, you know,” you said.

He tilted his head towards you before his eyes fell on your face. The blank canvas lit up with honest curiosity. “Huh?”

“You can be upset,” you repeated, “Or angry. Or sad. Or happy, I dunno.” You lowered your voice, “Death is a place where you can be who you’ve always wanted to be.”

You heard the word ‘happy’ whisper through the air without a voice. You tilted your head. “When’s the last time you were actually happy, Satoru?”

He didn’t have an answer. He stared at you. He wanted to hide – you could see it, see the way his eyes flicked over your face as he processed your question again and again – but he didn’t have anywhere to go. Instead, he gave you a small smile, a sad one. “Pretty face,” he murmured, “Hideous questions.”

“I have to,” you pointed out.

“Gojo?” the name floated up to you both. You followed his suddenly alarmed gaze down to the woman who stood beside him. She gave a weak laugh, her foot prodding his side. “Get up. This isn’t funny.” She sniffed. Her long black hair hung in a curtain around her. “Satoru, get up, this is a terrible joke.”

You hadn’t thought his grip on your hand could get any stronger, and yet, his knuckles went bloodless, his fingers digging into the back of your hand. You let him. It didn’t hurt.

“Hah,” he breathed, “Leave it to Utahime to kick me when I’m down.”

The woman sunk to her knees as two more women walked up beside her. The first started to cry.

Gojo stood. You slowly rose, watching him, how his shoulders hunched around his ears. “Let’s go,” he muttered.

“Are you sure?” you gently asked.

The cries pitched and grew in volume.

He turned away. “Please?” he asked. His voice cracked.

You stepped ahead. Your entwined hands grew taut before he started to follow you. The two of you walked in silence, Gojo trailing behind you, struggling to muffle the sniffles and quiet cries that slipped past his lips. You wanted to turn around and hug him, give him some kind of support, but it wasn’t your job. Knowing that it wasn’t your job did nothing when he closed the gap and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You stayed still for him, still holding his hand, giving his fingers a soft squeeze.

You didn’t really know what to do.

He squeezed your shoulders in return. “Just gimmie a minute,” he murmured against your shoulder, “I just need a minute.”

You nodded in silence, and the let the strongest sorcerer in the world cry into your shoulder. You squeezed his arms, and his hand, and watched the moon travel across the sky as Gojo Satoru mourned the life that had been taken from him.

He fell quiet sometime later, his breaths even against your neck. “I trusted her,” he finally said after a long, long moment, voice raw from the restraint of a full breakdown, “That’s how she caught me off guard. I trusted her. Thought, maybe, I felt something for her.” He scoffed. “Stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to have emotions,” you said, “They happen. And no one has complete control over something like that.” You tried to flash him a smile. “I think one of your students has learned that difficult lesson.”

He snorted, his arms tightening around you again. He shoved his face and took in a deep breath, then released you. Your hands fell between you both. You watched him scrub at one eye, then the other, and when he finally met your gaze, he gave you a smile in return.

You pulled him along.

The moon set while the two of you walked. At some point, Gojo started asking you questions. You replied and asked them in kind. He learned that you’d been human once before and asked if he’d be continuing on as Death, like you.

“Nope!” you chirped. You swung your hands between you both as you looked down, watching as you both stepped over the distant southern coast of Japan.

He squawked, “Why not?”

“They’ve decided to let you rest,” you replied. The ocean and the sky changed as you two walked. They grew closer to you, until the shore of an unknown island rose to meet your feet. Stairs stretched up a hill before you, shrouded by beautiful arches and massive hydrangea bushes. When you looked back to Gojo, you noticed his clothes had changed. He was more relaxed compared to his uniform in a nice light blue button-down and slacks. He ruffled his hair and looked down at his clothes, then back up to you with a dazzling smile. You were left breathless.

“What?” he asked when you kept staring, “Something on my face?”

“No,” you replied, and it felt like a lie. There was unabashed joy on his face, and it was so beautiful to see. You tugged him along, heading up the stairs. “C’mon. Your gate is up here.”

“My gate?”

“Everyone has a gate,” you explained as you two ascended, “Sorcerers, non-sorcerers, even some curses.” He stopped you short at that, staring with narrow eyes. “You don’t have to worry about them. It’s just a gate to your afterlife,” you said.

He groaned, “Is it gonna be boring?” and squeezed your hand to hide a tremor that started in his fingers.

“You tell me,” you mused. You waved your free hand ahead. Gojo grumbled, but looked up, and another brilliant smile cut across his face.

“Nanami?” he asked, his voice pitching up high and teasing, “Were you waiting for me?”

“I dunno why,” Nanami replied with a faint and miserable groan.

Gojo tried to head up the stairs ahead of you. You squeezed his hand and stumbled up after him. “Careful!” you chided, “Can’t let go until we get to the top.” Then, you held out your hand to Nanami. “C’mon, you know the stairs are dangerous.”

He took it with a sigh, squeezing your fingers.

“Hey, did you escort Nanami, too?” asked Gojo as the three of you walked.

“I did,” you hummed.

Gojo looked over your head to the other man. “Is it boring? The afterlife?”

“Maybe for you,” Nanami mused.

“What!?” came Gojo’s outraged reply. He turned his gaze on you, his glasses sliding down his nose. “Is it? Boring?”

You replied with a mysterious hum and climbed the last of the stairs. Ahead was his gate. It wasn’t special, nothing decorated its open doors, but the gentle light that emanated made you feel at ease. You hoped it did the same for Gojo. Someone leaned on the door, his head turned back towards the light as he talked to someone.

Gojo ducked his head towards yours. “What’s this guy doin’ here?” he asked as you three approached the gate.

Toji sucked on his teeth, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders as he scoffed a quick, “I’m not here for you. I wanna know about my kid.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Gojo cooed.

“Watch it, you ain’t such tough shit here,” Toji growled.

“Oh, I’m so scared.”

“Now, now, Satoru, don’t pick fights,” mused Geto as he approached from inside the gate. You gave the man a cheery wave, then dug in your pocket for the aforementioned money you owed him.

Riko peeked around Geto’s back with a wide smile. “Isn’t time supposed to make you all mature and stuff?” she asked, “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Gojo’s grip on your hand relaxed. Then, he pulled his hand free and carded it through his hair. It looked soft. He grinned. “Guess not.”

You reached past him to hand Geto a roll of bills. “You know,” you said, “I only agreed that two people could meet Gojo at his gate. You—” you pointed an accusing finger at Toji, “Are not supposed to be here. I’m surprised Suguru even let you.” You arched an accusatory brow at Nanami and released his hand. He only smirked and moved closer to the gate.

“I see you haven’t had much of a chance to tell him ‘no’,” Geto mused.

Toji scrunched his nose, hunching further into himself as he eyed you next to Gojo, then stared down the sorcerer himself. “How’s Megumi?” he finally asked.

Gojo smirked. “Fine, last I checked. I’m sure you’ll be pleased as punch to know that he and Maki are the last of the Zen’in clan, and neither of them want the name at all,” he replied.

“And Tsumiki?”

“No longer cursed,” came the answer.

Toji shoved away from the door and made his way back through the gate.

Gojo made a face. “Do I have to be around that guy forever?” he grumbled.

“Not if you don’t want to,” you replied. He turned to you. “I’ve gotta leave you here, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he cut in, holding up a hand. Riko giggled to herself, and Geto gently hushed her. Nanami set a hand on her head and turned her away as he disappeared back into the afterlife. Your face warmed. “Please,” added Gojo with a small smile.

“Satoru,” you complied, “I have to leave you here.”

“But why?!” he gasped, “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“Not right now,” you said, “But I’ll be back. I promise. There’s just a few other things I need to do first.” You waved at the gate. “Geto’s been looking forward to the day he could show you around. It seems like you two have similar tastes.”

“So,” Gojo shuffled his feet, stepping away from you, his back to the gate. His eyes searched your face. “When will I see you again?”

“Soon,” you said, “I promise.”

“You better,” he insisted, taking another step back, “I like talking to you.”

“Well, when I get back, you can tell me all about how it felt to take a real break for once,” you teased.

He gasped, grasping at his chest, stumbling back as if he’d been shot. “I’m wounded!”

“You’re so predictable, Satoru,” mused Geto, “Even Death can read you like a book.”

“I am not predictable?”

You stepped back, watching as Riko darted between the two young men, chatting about a game she’d been learning. The gate started to close. Gojo looked back, eyes meeting yours, and flashed you a bright grin. You waved. You were excited to see him again.

Somewhere below, the sorcerer world mourned the loss of Gojo Satoru.

~*~Thanks for Reading~*~

[nono-bunny]

Started playing Cupid Parasite yesterday, and as per my nature I'm playing by following both a guide and the most common recommended route order, so it's gonna be like. A LONG while until I fully get the answers to absolutely all the mysteries of the game, but!

I thought it might be fun, if not for others to read then at the very least for sake of posterity as something I can to come back to in the future, to log my thoughts, feelings, and predictions!

So: let's get started!

I called Allan being an incubus from essentially the very beginning. I don't even know what about him gave it away so quickly for me, but. Yah I suspected it long before he even mentioned Jupiter or specifically seeking out Lynette

So like, I imagine we're all in agreement about Minerva ABSOLUTELY being what's-her-face Love-Sensei ™ who's just out here being the ultimate wingwoman for Kyu-chan, right??

The translation sucks SO bad it physically hurts me sometimes lmao. Also the inconsistencies in how they translate things have me constantly doing a double take, istg wtf the least they could have done was settle on one way to portray the Shotafication™ of Glamor Parasite (whose name I'm totally blanking on rn for whatever reason??? Give me a break alright, I'm not even past the common route 😭)

The secret route is just Chii, right? Like. It's absolutely just Chii becoming a person called Peter and talking in the funniest "How do you do, fellow humans" pattern. Like initially I thought it might be Owen because voiced bishi but then I realized that literally everyone in this game is gorgeous so. Yeah now I'm like 99% certain secret route is just Kyu-chan getting together with her fucking pet of 8 years or something lmao that should be. Interesting, can't wait for him to absolutely lose it on her for using him as a neck massager lmaoo

Incidentally, no clue who Chii is a spy for, but he ABSOLUTELY is one, or at least, started out as such. No clue what made him take human form either, but like. Ya'll, I'm certain he's Peter. You can't fool me with that generic white text layout, game!!

Wtf is up with that weird lady in disguise and when is Kyu-chan going to realize it's either her absentee mom or her work partner or whatever the fuck Hera is to her, because like. Yeah that lady is absolutely not just some random human, she's either Hera or Venus

Oh god this game has me all mixed up with it using both roman and greek names, ffs it's a nightmare keeping it straight in my head even though I've always been into mythology

Raul, my bro, I get you. We can be special interest pals!!! I'll geek out about it with you and won't slap you for your bad takes!! His "parasite issue" really does feel like it's just him being ND, huh?

Minerva gave SUCH strong Biblical Snake vibes when we first meet her and I HATE it because I think she's either managed to convince me she's just an ostracized goddess who seeks change and is only playfully spiteful in a non harmful way but. Honestly she may very well turn out to have just been playing 4d chess using Kyu-chan the entire time, it'd suck tho because I LOVE MY GEEKY AUNT/MOTHER FIGURE/BGF (BEST GODDESS FRIEND)

Consequently, Mars is either just an asshole of an old fart for no reason or Minerva is just. Genuinely bad news and he was actually the good one all along. UNLIKELY, but always possible. Also did he fucking kidnap Kyu-chan??? What's her relationship with her mom even like??

The game gets 10/10 for style, like 4/10 for being practical and easy to see. Fr good god I have to zoom enhance AND squint from like one cm away from the screen to see some of the stuff. Same goes for the sound design, tbh- mixing is a mess and I'm constantly fiddling with the settings, but by god(s) does everything sound GREAT! Also the car honk absolutely sends me every time I hear it, and that's. A lot fjxjksbwjz

It's so much fun!!! Truly living up to its name as a romcom so far but I'm not an idiot and I can sense the angst coming from a mile away lmao

That's all I can recall for now, might repost with more stuff or updates later on, might not, tbh I just wanna get back to the game, so!!!

Edit because literally as soon as I opened up the game I remembered something else:

Oh god Gill is REALLY toeing the line between absolutely stealing my heart and earning a restraining order lmao

[starryevermore]

foolish one ✧ leo campo

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hiiii, I just read your Leo fic and I absolutely loved it.  Is there any way you can write another one? - anon

pairing: leo campo x fem!reader

summary: you know how to keep me waiting. i know how to act like i’m fine. don’t know what to call this situation, but i know i can’t call you mine. and it’s delicate, but i will do my best to seem bulletproof. ‘cause when my head is on your shoulder, it starts thinking you’ll come around. and maybe, someday, when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about over coffee every morning while you’re watching the news. but then the voices say, “you are not the exception. you will never learn your lesson.”

word count: 2,076

warnings?: implied smut, friends with benefits, angst, no happy ending, not proofread

It ran like clockwork. Every Friday night, you would go to Luigi’s an hour before closing time. Leo would bring you a vodka martini that you would drink as he flits between flirting with you, serving final drinks, and running through the closing activities. As the last of the patrons left, Leo would offer you a charming smile, ask if you’d like to take the party upstairs, and you would (trying to not seem so eager) accept. He would lead you to his apartment and…Let’s just say, make a mess in his sheets In the morning, Leo would offer you a coffee—a croissant if he was feeling particularly nice. By the time you finished drinking, you would be ready to leave. and it would all repeat again the next week.

You liked the routine. You liked the simplicity of the arrangement. 

You liked that, for once, Leo would actually pay attention to you. 

For as long as you could remember, you had had a crush on Leo Campo. It wasn’t an uncommon position to be in. He was funny, witty, and handsome as could be. Nearly every woman in Little Italy—single and taken alike—wanted him. But it was an equally uncommon position for Leo to not notice you. In your younger years, his attention was completely devoted to his best friend, Nikki Angiolo. Then, when their friendship eventually deteriorated because of the sudden feud between their families, you still couldn’t catch his eye. You were a dorky sort of kid. No one really spared you a second glance. 

It wasn’t until you left for college, had a glow up, and returned to Little Italy to take over the family business that anyone really noticed you. (In some ways, if you were being honest with yourself, that kind of hurt—the younger version of you deserved to be noticed, too.) But the most surprising thing of all was when Leo noticed you. 

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Leo said, two shot glasses in hand, when you came to Luigi’s one Friday night. He slid a shot of tequila in front of you, keeping one shot glass to himself. 

You were caught between being snarky (“You’d’ve seen me if you paid attention to women who don’t look like a model straight off the runway”) and finally, finally, getting to be the giggly girl who finally caught the hottest boy in town’s attention in your fantasies. You tried to find the middle ground by saying, “Been gone a few years.”

“You’re from here? Nah, I think I’d remember you if that was the case. Can never forget a beautiful woman like yourself.”

Humming, you picked up the shot glass, tilting it in Leo’s direction. “Maybe you should get your memory checked.” You leaned in a little.

“Would you mind helping me refresh my memory?” Leo asked, picking up his own shot glass. 

“Do you talk like this to every woman who comes up to the bar?” Truthfully, you didn’t want to know the answer. You kind of already did. A man as handsome as him? With as well-known playboy tendencies that your friends loved to tell you about whenever you’d call? Yeah, you technically knew. But you that this line was the ultimate flirtatious exchange. It would make his feelings toward you more clear, let you know if it was okay to make a move. 

“Only the gorgeous ones,” Leo said, flashing you a grin. 

It felt weird to be this bold. It felt so out of character, so out of left field that if anyone was witness to this, they’d think you had gone off the deep end. But… Well, you already got this far. You couldn’t back down now—not that you really wanted to. So, you asked, “When does your shift end?”

Leo glanced at the clock on the wall behind you. “‘Bout an hour. I gotta close, but my place is right upstairs.”

“Maybe I’ll stick around then.”

Leo’s tongue darted out, licking his lips. He shamelessly looked you up and down, pausing for a bit longer than maybe necessary to stare at your cleavage. (Thank God you had decided to wear a shirt that provided a tasteful peak at your breasts and a push-up bra that accentuated them all the more, you had thought.) When he looked back up at you, his face was subtly tinted pink. “You should.”

And you did. 

It was a night you would never forget, finally getting to live out your fantasies. And, oh, what an amazing night it was. For all of Leo’s womanizer tendencies, you expected him to be more focused on his own pleasures. To not care about making you feel good. But you were so, so wrong. Because that man was fucking dedicated. 

You never expected it to last, though. You thought it would be just a one time thing. Something you would tell your friends about and giggle over the idea that maybe he would show interest in you one more time. But come morning, Leo was handing you a mug of coffee and saying, “We should do this again sometime.”

You were caught between being shocked and giggling like a schoolgirl. You distracted yourself by taking a drink of the coffee, trying to figure out how to response. Finally, you said, “Just name the time and place.”

And so, the routine began. And you never looked back. 

At least, you didn’t for a while. This was always supposed to be a casual thing. Nothing serious. The classic friends-with-benefits, no-strings-attached scenario. You both were free to see other people as you pleased. Either one of you could call it off if you so pleased. And you were content with that. Leo Campo, after all, was not the sort of man to commit. You always knew that. You always knew you would never hold a piece of his heart. You never expected anyone to. 

But then you saw her. Saw the way he looked at her. Saw how he dedicated all of his time to her ever since she came home. And you knew then that Leo Campo could love. It’s just that he could never love you. 

And yet, he still came back to you. Still invited you into his bed. Pretended that neither of you could see the way he burned for Nikki Angiolo. And you knew it shouldn’t have, but it gave you just enough of an inkling of hope to think that maybe he did care about you in some capacity. 

Though the question ate at you, you never intended to voice your concerns. You knew nothing good would come out of it. And even if you would eventually lose Leo to Nikki…Well, you so selfishly wanted to keep him around for as long as possible. 

But nothing ever really went to plan for you. Perhaps it was because it was a Monday, not a Friday. Perhaps it was because he came to your apartment. Perhaps it was because you weren’t expecting him at all. But it brought the question to the very forefront of your mind, and it wouldn’t let you rest until you got an answer—no matter if it was the one you didn’t want to hear. 

“What are we?” you asked one night as the two of you basked in the afterglow before you could stop yourself or even think about what you were saying. 

Leo shut his eyes, suppressing a groan. You knew he hated when you brought this up, even if it was seldom that you did. It’s just…The boundaries of whatever this was, was never defined. You just wanted to know your place in his life. If you were more than just a good lay. If you meant something to him like he did to you. 

“Not this again,” he grumbled. You weren’t quite sure you were supposed to hear that. It almost sounded he was talking to himself. You certainly had never had this conversation with him before, had always respected the boundaries he so carefully constructed. How often, though, had he had this conversation with the other women he slept with? Did he consider you to be one of them—never satisfied with the arrangement, trying to trap him in a relationship he never wanted? Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leo run his hands over his face. A little louder, he asked, “Why does it matter?”

You turned over on your side and looked at Leo. When you tried to reach out, caress his face, urge him to look back at you, he only pushed your hand away. You asked, trying to swallow your hurt, “I mean…we’re friends, right?”

He didn’t say anything immediately. Didn’t try to convince you he felt something, anything more than lust, for you. You were really to take that silence as an answer, turn away from him, pretend that you hadn’t said anything at all. Of course it couldn’t be that simple. “Never really thought about it.”

And, oh, that hurt. Reaffirmed everything you ever thought about how Leo felt about you. In just five words, Leo told you that you never meant as much to him as he did to you. And even if that was something you always knew, deep down, it still hurt for it to be confirmed. To know that it would the truth instead of some lie you just told yourself to keep you from getting your hopes too high. 

“Go.”

Leo finally looked over at you, his brows pinched together. “Huh?”

“Leave,” you said, thinking that he didn’t understand you were telling him to get out. Sometimes he was like that. Sometimes you had to tell him something very directly for him to understand. 

Leo pushed himself up, propping himself up on his elbows. “You’re kicking me out?”

Why wasn’t he understanding? Why didn’t he get that, if you meant nothing to him, he didn’t get to stay? What was so hard about understanding that? You rolled over on your side, turned your back to him. You couldn’t look at him while you did this, or else you might change your mind. 

He reached over, touched your shoulder. You jerked away, pushing yourself closer to the edge of the bed to get away from him. “Don’t be like this.”

“I have work in the morning. Gotta get up early.”

“Earlier you said you have tomorrow off.”

Damn him. Damn him for remembering what you said but still not caring about you. “Errands then. I just got an early morning, and I’d like to sleep.”

Leo reached for you again. This time, you didn’t move away, let him touch you one last time. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

“Why should it matter? You don’t even think of me as a friend.” You pulled the covers around you tighter, burrowing yourself in a little cocoon. Didn’t even care that, in doing so, you were taking the covers from Leo. He didn’t deserve your covers. “And that’s pretty fucking clear. I never ask anything of you, but when I ask you to leave, you can’t even give me that.”

“Why are you doing this? What’s wrong?” Leo moved closer to you, sure that you wouldn’t try to pull away again. He pressed his body against yours, buried his face in the crook of your neck. His lips ghosted over the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “C’mon. This isn’t like you.”

“How would you know? We’re not friends.”

Leo kissed your shoulder softly. In any other circumstance, you might have melted. But, now, it felt like he was burning you. “I care about you—”

You fought the urge to scoff. How was this caring? “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Me neither. I never want to fight with you. Just, please, tell me what’s upsetting you so I can make it better—”

God, how was he so obtuse? How couldn’t he understand what you were saying? 

“No. I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore. I want to end this…arrangement between us.”

Leo pulled away. Finally. “Are you serious?”

You could only nod.

“…did I do something?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will the tears pricking at your eyes to not fall. Not now. Not while he was still hear. “You did nothing at all.”

And maybe that was the worst part of all. 

[hersweetrevenge]

sinclair brothers: life or death edition

[because i like suffering, so i make my blorbos and friends suffer too. had these terrible Thoughts™ after something lily said in the slasher server. also don't mind me keeping the circumstances of the deaths vague, because i really don't know in what situation saving only one brother would happen. bold is sign. warning for angst and death, specifically sibling death so i really ask you to heed the warning 💗]

okay so in the scenario where two of the brothers are in mortal peril and the third only has time to save one of them, who would they each save?

some answers are obvious. when lily posed this question she even said "obviously vincent would save bo, but would he hesitate?".

choose your fighter

vincent would save bo. end of conversation.

but no, really. i really, really wish he would have a moment of hesitation. a moment where he looks between the both of them, his twin and his baby brother and for a split second he doesn't know what to do. but he doesn't. it was always going to be bo, and they all know it.

sure, he'll feel guilty afterwards. lester is his baby brother, he loves him so much, but it was never a competition.

They're sat, side by side, in the truck. Neither had spoken for the five hours they'd been driving and Vincent would be happy if they waited another five. But he has no such luck.

"Thank you," Bo mutters, tiredly.

Vincent grunts, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what Bo wants him to say.

"What we gonna do now?"

"I don't know."

"I..." Bo starts but trails off, hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel.

Vincent knows what he's getting at. "It was always going to be you."

"I know. I know, but... can't of been easy."

"You don't want me to answer that."

Bo hums. There are times when even he thinks Vincent is cold.

As they drive, the truck headlights pass over a dead deer in the road. Road kill.

bo would save vincent. end of conversation.

bo feels slightly more guilty than vincent ever would for not saving lester, but there was only one choice; bo couldn't manage without vincent. bo has always felt a lot of responsibility to take care of lester when their parents didn't, but he just can't lose vincent.

"Am I a bad person?"

"No, I don't think so. Not for this, anyway."

"But... I let him down."

"Would you have been able to make any other choice?"

"No." Bo doesn't hesitate in his answer. Despite his guilt, despite the horrible pit in his stomach, he looks over at Vincent and knows this is always what the outcome would have been.

There's a long stretch of silence. It stretches on like the dark, empty road in front of them.

"Thank you."

Bo nods, still slightly dazed from the nights events. It was always going to be like this.

Vincent shuffles across the bench seat and rests his head on Bo's shoulder as he drives. "We're going to be okay."

"I know," Bo sighs. "I shoulda tried harder though, I shoulda done more."

"He'd understand. You know that."

Bo sniffs, hard, and keep his eyes go back to the road. "That's the problem, isn't it? He knew I weren't gonna save him. He's always known."

Vincent lifts his head again, replacing it with his hand and he squeezes Bo's shoulder. "You need to sleep."

"I don't need --"

"We'll talk in the morning, I promise." Vincent hopes they won't. Hopes in the clear light of day that Bo might realise that he didn't have a choice, that he never had a choice and all of them were far, far too aware of it.

lester would save vincent.

although lester always been closer with bo, he has to save vincent.

bo would not be able to survive without vincent, he'd be a total mess. he'd be angry at lester for letting vince die and, all in all, it'd be no way for bo to live. it would hurt bo more to make him live without his twin than to have just let him die.

that isn't to say that vincent isn't equally as upset, he's angry that lester let bo die, but he definitely understands the reasoning. lester outright tells him that. and besides, vincent has never needed bo as much as bo needed him. it still takes him a long, long time to deal with it, but a long, long time is better than never.

"Why me? Why choose me?"

"You think if this was me and Bo standing right here it'd be better?"

Vincent moves to say something but he pauses.

Lester scoffs, knows its mean but he can't bring himself to feel bad, "Exactly."

Vincent sits on the edge of the bed, elbows rest on his knees, head in his hands.

The motel room is silent, apart from the tinny sound of the TV from the room next door. Lester takes the initiative and turns their own set on, flicking absently through the channels.

For a split second he pauses on Jerry Springer. Quickly he changes it over, settles instead on some Hallmark movie that nether of them are going to watch.

Vincent grunts, to make Lester turn around and face him, "You should have left us both."

"Ya think I didn't think about it? 'Scuse me for being selfish, but I didn't wanna be all alone and --" Lester starts, face twisting into a scowl, not out of any annoyance with his brother, but out of frustration. What the fuck was he supposed to have done?

"But I am. I am alone!"

Lester knows Vincent is just hurting, knows he doesn't mean it, not really, but it still stings. "I get it. I ain't never been enough for ya, for either o' ya, but we're here now and I'm sorry for it."

Vincent doesn't reply, simply leans down to unlace his boots, kicking them off before crawling under the starched covers of the musty motel bed.

Lester does the same, turning the overhead light off before crossing in the dark to the other bed.

It doesn't take long for Lester to hear the soft, muffled sniffles coming from Vincent's bed. He's glad the light is off, he doesn't want to see Vincent's shoulders shudder with the crushing pain of it all. Doesn't want to see how Vincent pulls the spare pillow to his chest and squeezes, searching for the solace he was so used to getting from his twin.

bonus: if lester saved bo instead

"C'mon we gotta - we gotta go!"

"No, no stop! Wait, I can - can get him, I can --"

"Bo, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But we have to go, he's gone!"

"No!" Bo musters enough strength to wrench himself out of Lester's grasp, running back towards the museum but his knees buckle before he makes it. "No, please."

Lester strides towards his big brother. The man who always kept it in front of Lester, who always looked after him, even when he couldn't look after himself. Lester has long since been the one doing the looking-after.

He slips his arms under Bo's armpits and pulls him up.

Bo isn't much help, but he follows Lester's lead, down the gravel road and into the truck.

Once they're out on the road, Lester tense behind the wheel, they sit in what would be silence, if it weren't for Bo.

Bo cries. He'd made a point, ever since they were kids, not to cry in front of Lester. But now he couldn't help it, he's curls in on himself in the passenger seat and sobs. Lester can't help but keep glancing across, watching Bo wrap his arms around himself in search of the oh-so-familiar comfort of his twin.

"You shoulda - shoulda saved him. Shoulda saved him."

"I'm sorry," is all Lester can reply.

[xbunnybunz]

Stride of Luck (3/?) [Dave Strider X Reader X Bro Strider]

Summary:

You find an unconscious Dave Strider in a desolate street and allow him to crash at your place, only to find out that he's come all the way from Texas to find his bro, Dirk Strider.

What seems like an easy task soon evolves into something much more complicated when you finally locate Dirk, and realize three things. One, Dave is hot as fuck. Two, Dirk is also hot as fuck. Three, they have the same taste in girls.

“i warned you about the striders, bro. i told you dog!”

Genre: Romance, Humor, Angst, Slow Burn

Author's Note: moving some stuff over from AO3 to here so my readers feel more comfy interacting with me directly <3

Dave never took that goddamn toothbrush out of his mouth. Ever.

He would watch the television with it in his mouth, while using his phone, before he went to bed, and you were pretty sure he kept it in his mouth while he showered, too. You’d dare to say he probably had teeth so clean, ten out of ten dentists would recommend his regimen, as opposed to the usual nine out of ten.

You’re currently sitting next to him on the couch, your laptop pulled up on your lap while the second Fast and Furious movie played on the television. The explosions were nearly frequent, but not as constant as the Rock’s gruff voice saying something undoubtedly super cool and epic. You weren’t really paying attention, since you were focused more on the laptop screen in front of you.

Dave sat next to you, eyes glued to the television and curled up under the throw blanket. The toothbrush buzzed distinctly in his mouth, and you didn’t have to be an expert to know he was probably destroying his gums with the constant brushing.

“Dude. Your gums are so going to be fried after this.”

Dave took the toothbrush out of his mouth, and you can hear the distinct tune he programmed into it buzzing into the air. “That’s really funny, because I so don’t remember asking.” He popped it back in his mouth, and you rolled your eyes.

Dave had been here for almost half a week now, and you realized he was a lot more of a chatterbox than you initially thought. Even though it was great he liked to converse, nearly all of the things he said would drive you up the goddamn wall. He was a sassy little shit, and had the perfect response to nearly any situation. It was hilarious, but sometimes you just wanted to reach over and pinch his lips shut and go SHHHHHHHH.

Of course, you never did. You were getting more used to his snark and charming face, but you still remained a bit jittery. You blamed it mostly on the fact that you were excited to finally have a housemate, since you’ve been daydreaming about it since the day you moved in. Besides, he was chill, talkative, and clean. What more could you ask for?

Just as you thought this, he tossed a used tissue covered in Dorito™ powder onto the table and missed. It collected with the other ten or so crusty tissues that littered the floor, and you grimaced.

Okay, fine. He was kind of a slob.

“You’re turning this place into a dump, asshole.”

Dave grunted and picked up the tissues with his toes while watching The Rock blast through what had to be the fifth shitty plaster wall today. “Sorry. I’ll clean it after this part.”

You sighed and turned back to your laptop screen, scanning the list of local public schools in the area. Dave had messaged his brother after he got his phone fired up again, but there hadn’t been a response since then. You were worried for him, but he assured you that Bro was pretty shitty with answering pesterchum even before he had left. Unfortunately Bro hadn’t told Dave of his whereabouts before he left, so this was basically a guessing game.

The only choice you had was scouring the internet for hints, or waiting it out. All Dave had was his phone, so all of the big-boy googling was up to you. Luckily for you, Dave didn’t seem too caught up in finding Bro at the moment, which made you wonder if he was secretly sad when you weren’t in the same room as him.

You had caught him staring absently at his phone a few times before, waiting for a message. You hadn’t bothered to ask him why. You had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t tell you the entire truth.

“You said Bro had blonde hair and a ‘shitty white shirt?’” You asked with a raised eyebrow. You wondered if Dave had bullied Bro a bit too much and, in a fit of rebellious teenage mirth, Bro had packed it up and left.

“Yup.” Dave said, the explosions on the screen reflecting off of his shades. “He wears that dorky thing all the time. It makes him look like such a dumb musclehead.”

Maybe it ran in the family.

“Uh huh. Have you ever thought that maybe he left because you put your foot in your mouth one time too many?”

“Pff. No. Dude’s built like a tank. Nothing gets to him.”

You hum, unconvinced and click on a local high school’s page. Pictures of kids on their first day of school filled your screen, and you went through the meticulous process of picking them out and matching their faces to their names in the school roster.

About ten schools later, your eyes burned and the sun had set. No one you had found matched your criteria of being Bro, and your day had dwindled away into nothing. Dave still had that stupid little toothbrush in his mouth, and The Rock prevailed in dramatically jumping from a skyscraper to a helicopter for the trillionth time, which was beginning to annoy the crap out of you.

How many Fast and Furious movies were there? You’d been here all day!

“Dave, temp?”

He leans forward and grabs the thermometer, sticking it his mouth and watching as numbers on the screen fluctuates. He pops it out, and you’re relieved to see he’s back down to an acceptable temperature.

“Oh, thank goodness. Congrats, you’re no longer a human frying pan. Welcome back to miserable normalcy.”

Dave pretends to pop a tube of confetti, though the sound effects he makes are sloppy because of the buzzing of the brush.

“Hoorah, Dave Strider is in town, and he’s ready to par-tay.”

You set your laptop to the side and pluck the brush out of his mouth, kind of grossed out by the string of saliva connected to it.

“Oh, man. That’s fucking disgusting.” You toss the toothbrush into one of the empty cups, and arch your back in a pleasant stretch. “Why are you so glued to that thing? It’s like a pacifier for you.”

Dave allows his gaze to diverge from the toothbrush on the table, and he licks his teeth making little squeaky noises.

“I downloaded one of Bro’s mixes on there, his music is always at least a little good, you feel?”

It sounded to you like Dave just missed Bro a lot, but you didn’t feel like calling him out on his genuine, sappy ass feelings right now, so you let him roll with it.

“Sure, got it. I’m gonna go whip up something for dinner. Is there anything in particular you want to feast on?”

“Nah, I’ll eat anything. I’ll help you, though.”

“Oh, wow. Dave Strider? Getting up from the couch? How many more miracles will we see here today, folks?”

“Maybe one more, if I don’t gag on your food.”

You scoff and let him have the last word. He follows your lead into the kitchen, which was also conveniently and grossly mashed with your dining room.

Your phone pings from your back pocket, and you scoop it up.

-- SwwetieShawwna[SS] began pestering SadFroggy [SF] at 8:45PM—

SS: Heeey!! : DD SF: hey, whats up shawna SS: Nothing much, but me and tracy were thinking of ordering out!! SS: I wanted 2 ask if u wanna jooooin us?! C : SF: hmmmmm delicious chinese takeout, or cooking pasta again in my house?? how will I ever choose between such a difficult pair? SF: oh I know, ill use my noggin. chinese food please. SS: :DDDDD YAAAAAAY SS: When will you get here? :DD

Oh, snap. You look up, and Dave is pulling two plates out of the cabinets after having spent five minutes looking through the dishwasher for cups, which were all used and in your room.

Oops. You had forgotten that a certain Mr. Strider was waiting for a meal too.

SF: uhhhh actually I dont know if i can come anymore. SS: WHAAAAT >: CCCC WHY!!!!! SF: yeah, sorry. I forgot that dave is here, i don’t wanna ruin girls night by bringing a guy SF: damn. there goes my general tso’s chickiee. SS: NOOO WAIT SF: ? SS: BRING HIM!!! SF: what no, he just recovered from being sick. im not dragging him across town to eat chinese takeout. SS: BUUUUUT SS: I wanna SEE him!!! SF: girl that’s a very high order yaknow SF: i think I’ve had my fill of dragging around sick guys in Obers. SS: >://// SS: FINE! We’ll come to you then!!!! :DDD SF: wait, what?

-- SwwetieShawwna[SS] ceased pestering SadFroggy [SF] at 8:57PM—

What the hell? Were Tracy and Shawna really coming just to eat with you? You felt bad for whatever havoc was definitely being wrecked at their apartment, but you were also kind of excited to see your pals again. The last time you guys had eaten dinner together, Shawna had gone through a pretty shitty breakup, and you had decided to party the sad out of her.

Now that you thought about it, it was saddening to see that your schedules were too packed to see each other outside the occasional weekend. After starting University, things had gotten pretty time constricting, and truth be told you missed their company.

-- TurntechGodhead [TG] began pestering SadFroggy [SF] at 9:01PM—

TG: yo TG: are u ok TG: youve been staring at your phone for five minutes

Oh shit. You look up from your phone and give Dave an awkward smile.

“Haha, sorry. I was just a bit lost in thought.”

Dave hummed, his lips forming an adorable pout as he compared two boxes pasta boxes in his hands.

“Rigatoni, or Penne? Rigatoni, or Penne?” He raised the boxes as he addressed them, his eyebrows wiggling.

“None, and stop moving your eyebrows like that. They look like seizing worms.” You pressed the boxes down, and he lowered them onto the table. From behind his shades, giving you a questioning look.

“No pasta? There’s nothing else to eat though, unless…”He articulates the last word carefully, dragging it out intentionally.

He leaned against the counter, head tilting towards you. His glasses slide down his nosebridge slightly, and you can see a tease of his blond lashes. You had never seen the Strider awake without his glasses before, and now the close glimpse of them had you wondering. You find your eyes wandering over his chiseled face and wry smile, trying hard to place just how much more tempting he could get.

You feel a blush crawling up your neck, but he stops it short.

“…Unless there’s some kind of quality, Michelin star, microwaveable meal you’ve been smuggling in under my nose. Because stouffers is great too.”

While you tried to recover from the emotional whiplash and wrestled with yourself to get your heart into check, Dave notices your lack of response with the quirk of an eyebrow.

“You good, bud?”

“Yep, peachy.”

You distract yourself with placing the pasta back into the shelves.

“My friends are coming over, and we’re getting takeout. I hope you weren’t looking forward to that ‘microwaveable meal’ too much. And last time I checked, Stouffer’s was blue ribbon at best.”

He clicks his tongue and grabs the other box on the table.

“Have to disagree with you there, (y/n).” He slides the pasta on the shelf and the back of his hand brushes against yours, and you feel like you’ve been burned.

You jerk your hand back and slip out from the tight spot he was crowding you into, heart pounding.

Dave chuckles, and just like that, you know that weird interaction was only out of the norm for you. You’re still trying to wrap your head around it when you get another message from Tracy.

-- ClickyBitchtracy [CB] began pestering SadFroggy [SF] at 9:17PM—

CB: Congrats on riling Shawna up. CB: What did you tell her, and why are we going to your place? SF: im really sorry! i mentioned that dave was here and she wanted to come over like stat. CB: Oh, that’s what it was. Well, we’re a few minutes away and we have two orders of General Tso’s for you and David. SF: **dave CB: Sorry. A lot of unmemorable names here. SF: woooow, snarky. leave the attitude at the door pleassee CB: Better start heading down now then.

-- ClickyBitchtracy [CB] ceased pestering SadFroggy [SF] at 9:20PM—

You throw on a jacket and tell Dave you’re going to get the door. He’s sprawled himself out on the couch, his legs dangling over the armrests. You see a thumbs up peeking over his knees right before you close the door.

Shawna basically sprints past the lobby and up the stairs when you open the main door. The door just barely misses giving you a broken nose, and Tracy looks completely unphased.

You eye the crack the door left in the paint. “Hey Tracy, what’s been up with you?”

She grumbles, and pinches her nosebridge. The bag of food hangs heavily in her hands, and you take it from her, thanking her for her brave service.

“Shawna has been waiting to see Dave for a week. A whole week! Do you know how hard it was to get her under control once you gave her the permission to come over here?”

“Yikes. Sorry, Tracy. But to be honest, I don’t think I ever said yes to her. Plus, it’s only been a few days.”

She blows hair out of her face and sighs, defeated. “It felt a lot longer than that for me. As if that isn’t bad enough, Adam’s been talking about you all week too.”

Huh. He has? You haven’t spoken to him since you saw him on Saturday. “Weeeeird.”

You head up to your apartment and see Shawna hounding the door like some kind of fucking crazy stalker, which she kind of is. Maybe you should’ve given Dave a warning?

You unlock the door and throw it open, unleashing Shawna on him. Nah. Mister cool guy will be fine.

Immediately after you think that, though, you regret it. Shawna throws herself onto the couch and Dave completely freaks and rolls out of the way, but not in time for him to dodge her talons snatching onto his shoulders and pinning him back down.

“Woah, she’s an animal.” Tracy says.

Uhhhhhh. You put down the food.

“OH MY GOSH YOU ARE SO FREAKING ADORABLE!”

Dave sinks himself deeper into the couch, bewildered and confused as Shawna rubs her grubby little mitts all over his face.

“I KNEW you had to be a huge cutie to score someone like (y/n)!”

“It’s not like that Shawna-”

She’s squealing now and it hurts your eardrums from afar, so you don’t envy Dave who’s right in her face. He’s frantically searching the room for you and when he sees you, mouths “what the goddamn shit?”

He’s asking for help.

You mouth back “I don’t know either, sorry.”

You can’t do anything now.

Shawna starts shaking Dave, and his head snaps back and forth like a ragdoll. “I didn’t know they made boys that looked like you still! Tell me how you’ve been since we found you!”

Dave’s jaw is clenched in a death lock in an attempt to save his tongue from a nasty chomp, and he doesn’t dare to release it to answer her. His fingers dig into the material of the couch to brace himself, and you wonder why he won’t push her off.

“Damn, he’s just letting her go at it” You muse, and Tracy looks at you like your stupidity amazes her.

“Well no shit! You think he’s going to toss her off onto the coffee table WWE style?!”

Oh. Right.

“Don’t you think he can escape?”

Tracy exclaims in frustration and walks over, an arm raised cautiously, like she was approaching a dangerous bloodlusting creature. “Shawna, that’s enough-”

Shawna reaches for Dave’s shades, eyes shining with curiosity. “Oh, why are you wearing these indoors? At night time? Are you high?”

“Shawna, maybe don’t touch those-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Dave has somehow slipped his way out from Shawna, kicking a long leg up onto the headrest of the couch and backflipping into the air and over her. You and Tracy watch with dropped jaws as he lands perfectly on the coffee table, sweeping one leg out and around to maintain balance in an astounding demonstration of agility. The cups and trash on the table are knocked off, save for the one his toothbrush is in, which he grabs before it hits the floor. He pushes up his shades nonchalantly with his other hand and Shawna turns around slowly, eyes wide with stupefaction.

“How did you…?”

“How did he?-” Tracy gestures to him largely and looks to you for an answer, but you’re just as taken aback as she is.

How didn’t he break the table? Last time you tried to sit on it you swore it moaned like a whore! This was unfair treatment, and what the fuck did Dave just do in front of your friends? You didn’t realize you were hosting the Olympics in your goddamn room.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Shawna can only numbly stare at him and gape.

“…So, you’re not high?” She asks meekly.

"I thought he was sick?" Tracy asks, a nervous edge in her voice.

"...Hell yeah, sick as fuck."

Dave gets back on the floor and runs a hand through his attractively tousled hair. “Nah. Don’t touch the stuff, but don’t judge those who do. ‘Cause all lifestyles are different, and that’s cool too.” He winks at the camera, but we can’t see it because of his shades.

You rush over to him, checking to see if Shawna had broken anything of his.

“Dude, are you okay? She was really giving you a run for your money. I thought you were going to walk out with at least some kind of brain damage.’”

Tracy checked Shawna for injuries, then turned to Dave. “I’m really sorry, she gets a bit wild when she’s excited.”

Dave just shook his head, the ceiling lamp reflecting off his shades in a way that made him look extremely fuckable and fresh.

“Don’t worry about it,” he held out his hand in greeting, and Tracy took it firmly.

“Tracy.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tracy. Cool to meet you. (Y/n) talks about you two all the time.”

He extends an arm to Shawna, who takes it still stunned.

“Shawna, I’m guessing?”

She nods.

“Thanks. I haven’t gotten around to doing that shit since Bro left.”

“Wait, you did this to Bro?” You ask incredulously. Did Bro leave because Dave was using him to practice Wrestlemania moves?? Because in that case you were NOT helping him anymore!

Dave turned to look at you, and only then did you recognize how closely you were standing to him.

“Not to him, with him.” He corrected. “Yeah. He’s way better than me though.”

How? How could it be possible that anyone got any smoother than that? Should you be scared?

“Oh, your brother?” Shawna dotes, clasping her hands together. What’s with her? That’s gross, and also pedophilia. You needed to have a talk with her later after all of this dies down.

Tracy looks at you, hesitation and a spark of approval in her eye. What the fuck? When was the last time Tracy approved of anything? And what was she approving of?

“Alright, we’re going to eat.” Tracy states.

Shawna looks up with huge puppy eyes at the mention of food, and Tracy's managed to get Dave’s attention too. Shawna runs off to unpack the food, and drags poor Dave with her. Haha, sucker.

“ Then, me and you are going to talk.” She rests a hand delicately on your shoulder, a stern frown on her face.

“Woah! What did I do? I wasn’t the one doing backflips on the furniture.”

“Yes, but it’s still something I think is important. It’s regarding Dave. There’s two things, actually, and I just feel like-”

Dave’s voice cuts through the livingroom, deep, smooth, and inquisitive. “Uh. You guys coming?”

You wave at him. “Yep! Coming! Tracy is STARVING! Right Trace?” You pinch her cheeks and pretend to make her talk. “Yes, Dave, I’m soooooo hungry! I’m gotta eat right now or I’ll piss and cum in my pants!”

Dave chuckles at your totally ironic humor, and it sounds like liquid velvet to your ears.

She swats your hands away and growls at you, massaging her face.

“Alright! Fine. Let’s go.”

The dining room is bustling, and shadows of four friends stretch across the floor and over the coffee table, where a lone toothbrush sat.

[mlm-writer]

Sex-Ed (Conner Kent x M!Reader)

Gif source

Pairing: Conner Kent (Y.J. ver.) x Male Reader (trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit Words: 1520 POV: Second Summary: Conner always finds videos online of things ‘normal people’ do and you like to indulge him, resulting in several origami projects, DIY shirts and whatnot. Then Conner discovers porn. Note: Conner and reader are both of age. Reader’s physical characteristics are not mentioned at all. ALSO I HAVE BEEN WRITING HIS NAME AS CONNOR BUT IT IS CONNER??? Part two here | part three Tags: bit of angst, smut, handjobs, kissing, first kiss, first time, Conner discovers what ‘gay’ means, the American school system is a joke, reader seems experienced and comfortable with sex, everything is consensual, past Conner x M’gann is mentioned, and porn 

Eyes slowly fell closed as you tried to focus on your reading. A very boring recommendation from Bruce, but Dick convinced you to make it through the first 10 chapters to get to the fun bit. You almost thanked every deity you could think of when there was a knock on your door and you had a reason to abandon the book for now. “Come in!” You called out as you put the bookmark between the pages and closed the huge thing. You smiled when you saw Conner walking in, closing the door behind him. “Oh hey hot shot,” you greeted him as you turned your seat towards your bed. 

Conner sat on his usual spot, left corner at the foot of your bed, feet resting on the box on the floor. “Hey, so I found another thing on the internet...” You laughed and leaned back, awaiting what you were going to do this time. You already snapped a watermelon in half with rubber bands, put some mentos in a cola bottle, made tie-dye t-shirts and whatnot. “It looked really fun and I already tried it on my own, but in the video I found they did it together and I think it will be more fun together.” 

You held your hand out for his phone. He pressed play and handed it over. When your eyes fell on the screen, your throat went dry as a desert and you were unsure of how to react. You hardly watched a few seconds before pressing pause and looking at Conner. “Are you serious? You’re not fucking with me, right?” He looked at you with those innocent eyes and opened his mouth, but you did not need to hear the answer. You handed him back the phone. 

“I’m sorry, is it weird? There is a whole bunch of videos like this on this website, so I thought…” “Conner, did you and M’gann not do things like this?” “Like what?”

“Sex?”

“But sex is male and female reproduction, right?”

You looked at him in silence for a long while. “Oh American school system, you have failed me once more and I finished high school ages ago. Bravo”, you muttered to yourself. Well, someone had to give him the Talk™ and since everyone else just seemed to decide to just not do that, it was left to you. “Conner, that video is what we call porn. In porn, people have sex.” You sat down next to him, putting a distance between you two as you try to not think of Conner jerking himself off. “And sex is not just between male and female, as you could see in the video you showed me. Sex is also not just about reproduction. Some do it for fun, but most do it with someone they love and I’m not one of those people that just have sex with random people for fun.” 

Conner kept looking at you with those puppy eyes, nodding at your words. He put his phone down and took one of your hands in his. You swore your heart leaped into your throat as he stared at your hands. “I still would like to have sex with you and not just for fun.” He clenched your hand in his for a second. Your mind wiped itself as if you took a couple of shots of vodka, downed a bottle of NyQuil and then washed it all down with tequila. Apparently you took too long to answer, because Conner let go of your hand, apologised profusely and clumsily made his way to your door. 

“Conner, wait.” He stopped on command. “You need to be straight up with me. I don’t want things to be weird between us. Why do you want to have sex with me?”

He looked away, hands fidgeting as he gathered his words. “Because I love you and not just as a friend, but I thought it was not possible, because we are both male.” You melted inside and motioned him over. He returned to sit next to you again. You took his hand, slowly gliding your hand over his arm to his shoulder, up his neck and across his jaw until you could cup his cheek. 

“It’s called being gay and I so happen to be a master at it.” You chuckled, before leaning in and kissing him. Conner was no stranger to kissing it seemed. He easily got you lying on your bed, legs hanging off the edge as he hovered over you. His hands found yours and fingers intertwined as he took his time exploring your lips with his. He was a little shy with his tongue, but a little initiative from you and he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. When he seemed to be finally done, you were out of breath. He and his stupid super powers did not seem bothered at all. “Do you still want to have sex?” He nodded in response. “Ok, but just a handjob for now. Going all the way after our first kiss seems a little too soon.” 

Conner looked at you with confusion. You sighed and pushed him off you. You hung off the bed, basically feeling Conner’s eyes on your ass as you got a bottle of lube from the box on which Conner rested his feet every time he entered your room. You crawled up the bed, resting with your back against the headboard, and spread your legs. You patted the space between them. “Come sit here with your back towards me.” 

Conner seemed both wary and excited as he followed your instructions. You put the bottle of lube next to you, so your hands were free. “Close your eyes,’ you whispered into Conner’s ear. He shivered and obliged. You ran your hands up his strong thighs and over his hips. He shivered as your cold hands sneaked under his shirt and up his torso. You felt his hard abs and voluminous pecs with your fingers, scratching a little. You wrung a moan out of him as your fingers traced circles around his nipples. “Feels good?” Conner nodded, a sigh leaving his lips as he squirmed a little under your touch. 

You let your hands roam for a while, noticing Conner’s bulge forming. You lifted the shirt over his head and mouthed at his exposed shoulder. Your hand moved down and cupped his bulge. He moaned as you ground your palm against it, while your other hand moved back up to pinch and rub a nipple. He squirmed in your touch, but made no effort to get away from it. Instead, he moved his hips and threw his head to the side, trying to get more friction, while also giving you more space to do as you pleased. “This is not what they were doing in the video,” he whined, clearly wanting more from you. 

You chuckled as you gave his growing bulge a hard squeeze. “No, but it is more fun when you have a little build up.” Conner whined again and you took mercy on him. “Lift your hips up a little.” He followed instructions like a well-trained dog. You rid him off his jeans and underwear. Conner was semi-erect already. You reached beside you and took the bottle of lube. Just a little on your hands was enough for now. 

Conner shuddered as your hand came in contact with his length. You stroked him slowly, keeping a loose grip to not overwhelm him too soon. However, it proved to just be excruciating teasing for him. He bucked into your hand, getting quite vocal as he fucked it, steadily getting harder. You responded by turning your grip firmer. His head rested on your shoulder, eyes closed. When he finally opened them, your breath hitched. He looked so vulnerable like this. “Kiss me, please,” he moaned. How could you deny him? You tilted your head so your lips connected. Conner moaned into your mouth as you ravaged him with your mouth on his. One of his hands landed on your wrist, the loose grip signalling you he was close and did not want you to stop under any circumstance. 

You twisted your hand a little, polishing his cock with your hand, precum making the glide slick. Conner tilted his head away from yours and his free hand came up to cover his mouth. You still heard him though, screaming sounds of pleasure as he covered your hand in his thick cum. You stroked him through it, being gentle as you awed at the volume he could spill. Once he was no longer spasming in your grip, you let go of his cock and rested your hand on his cum-covered lower abdomen. “You good?” You chuckled as you used your clean hand to push some hair out of his eyes. 

Conner nodded and for a change he was actually panting. His stamina was so incredible, you hardly ever got to see him exhausted like this. “Yes, just… It is a lot better to do this than just watch others do it.” You chuckled and kissed his temple. 

[lem0nsheadz]

GET TO KNOW YOUR WRITING PARTNER   🤍  

knowing your writing partners can potentially make writing together a lot easier. repost, don’t reblog.

NAME: n PRONOUNS: she/they PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: I use tumblr IM a lot, but for anything beyond basic plotting hit me up for my discord handle, I love to scream about our babies. EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG: 20 + at this point. started on a live site called The Place, then IMs, then a javascript based room where you had to write novel length replies in >1 hour, then forums, then tumblr + discord. it’s been a wild journey + I keep waiting for the next step. it’s gonna be vr chat I know it - you know it - we’re just lying to ourselves. BEST EXPERIENCE: I said this on a previous one, but it’s still my answer so consider this a repeat  --  just being surrounded by creative + passionate people. it’s so inspiring reading people’s threads, watching intercharacter relationships build.  I love getting to lurk in the little worlds each of you have created. otherwise just the sort of connections I’ve made over the years, my most long lasting friendships are from the rpc. RP PET PEEVES: the recent OC hate has me back on my 🗡️🗡️🗡️ with certain sections of the rpc, but beyond that face chasing still weirds me out. also people who expect me to list out everything about myself or they default me as white / abled / etc. stop that. some of us are just private people who don’t want to share that kind of info. MUSE PREFERENCES FOR ANGST / FLUFF / SMUT:  psychosis??? madness? horror?  I am an eldritch lover so any time I get to Make Shit Weird ™ I’m over the moon, but I think variety is the spice of life so I want a bit of everything PLOTS OR MEMES: I definitely love plots + making long reaching ideas for our characters, but with Lemon especially memes are just a blast. I don’t know what she’s going to do  --  you don’t  know what she’s going to do + we both get to be horrified by whatever she decides on together. LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: I am notorious for having verbositis  --   making even short replies spiral out of control at a moments notice. but Lemon is one of the few characters I have who can tone it down a little, keeping her at a 2-4 paragraph average which is a nice change compared to Luke who is just ... way too up in his own head. BEST TIME TO WRITE:  any time? I have a baffling sleep schedule so it’s more based on when I slept + how long I’ve been awake. my secret super power is only needing 4 hours of sleep so I end up with a lot of free time. ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE: oh god no. not Lemon anyway. Lemon was birthed in my psych classes in college.  I do have a bit more in common with Luke @desanguined​ but even he is a bit alien. I don’t tend to write characters like me as I write to explore other mindsets, the more different from my own the better.

TAGGED BY:   @kindafked​ ( thanks beeb 🖤🖤🖤 )

TAGGING:   I’ve seen this around a lot, so if you haven’t done it yet I’m tagging you!

[headgehug]

So I reached the timeskip in Dimitri's route and let me say this: those new outfits are *not* it. what the hell happened. ashe went from hella cute to just hellish. Some are just fine but I don't think there's any design I actively appreciate... at least they're all more interesting than the GD cast. except for Mercedes who so far has just been There. I'm also very sad at how my boy Randolph is done dirty in every route apparently. Little guy just wants to be hot and survive, ends up becoming canon fodder because we need Deaths™. At first Dimitri was going to spare him for a bit to ~play with him~ (suggestive look, yes I vaguely wrote a few sentences of that) but then Byleth was like "stfu" and decided to be even more bloodthirsty than Dimitri. chill girl.

At least I finally got Rodrigue on my team! Can't wait for him to die because he has difficult relationships with the cast and wants to repent. So he'll die, probably sacrifice himself or something. ugh

god I was looking at the timeskip designs and got reminded of how hot Hubert suddenly became, and I'm sad that he's only available in one route because he's such a great character.

I ended up recruiting Alois and his supports with Gilbert are nice! I ship them (of course i do). also recruited Cyril because he's adorable and a beast. I have Manuelle and I don't ever remember recruiting her but even though as a unit she's uninteresting, she got 2 Funny Footsteps supports in succession so she's actually great.

I love Edelgard in this route though, Dimitri's like "i'm gonna fuck you up" and she's just ":(" and like. hmph. the angst! It's so obvious she sees the war as the only solution but isn't happy about it. Like I can see why people would flat out hate/not care about her if they only did Verdant Wind, but even Azure Moon makes it pretty clear she's not just a bloodthirsty dictator. girl just wants to stop inequalities which, good for her. good for her!

But Byleth is so weird, like they seem chill most of the time but then suddenly they execute in cold-blood Randolph (AM) or Edelgard (VW), they're so inconsistent. One moment you relate to them and the next you're like "???????"

People can rage on Corrin from Fates all they want but at least Corrin insisted on not killing anyone (...the Gameplay/Story Separation is not great but still). Well Corrin is also a teen/young adult with an actual past and situation while Byleth is just There. so it's weird then that people can actually form relationships with Byleth when they're essentially just... answering what people want to hear.

anyway my opinion on Dimitri is that his haircut still sucks but his outfit... remove the cape and we got something. The route is much more interesting than VW. Also I really like Gilbert. and his relationship with Annette!!!!

see my main issue with FE3H is that it actually isn't wordy enough. there's no elaboration on a ton of things. For example, Gilbert and Annette's paralogue doesn't explicitly say that the two of them can't move, or they'll be attacked. Annette's uncle just says sth like "I can't let you take the sacred weapon" and that's it. there's just one or two lines missing!! and it's the same everywhere! reactions to Sylvain's brother dying? pretty much nothing! Lonato's uprising? Catherine kills him instead of asking what the fuck actually happened. the Death Knight? his identity isn't even clear unless you do Edelgard's route and that's only after an update. a lot of things don't pack nearly enough punch because they needed more scenes. Tomas is Solon? Seteth's like "okay, we don't know why, since when, and we don't really care." There's such a lack of elaboration on *everything*!!!! And I say this when Fates's continent isn't even named! I'm not interested in lore but I *am* interested in interpersonal and conflictual relationships, but if the game doesn't give me enough food to chew on, how am I supposed to be satisfied?

(by the way in this playthrough I defeated the Death Knight everytime, it was fun!)

anyway it was just ramblings and opinions and stuff. I also tried a quick Claude-only run and realized the game isn't made for that lmao (sth sth "Claude isn't available in this chapter" "Byleth is forced to come too")

can't disagree with you on any points! I love fe3h but it def could have more elaboration on all the characters. certainly it's hard with just have how many there are. also I love byleth bc they are so morally dubious lol. I guess people say they seem like a blank character vs like Ephraim, Roy, etc, main characters who were fully fleshed out? but Byleth is what I would be like in that world, blank expression, quiet, just making my own damn decisions because I'm somehow better than everyone lol. btw if anyone could solo a run it would be Claude. bc I get bored of wyvern rider Claude sometimes I like to make him an assassin with allll the movement speed.