#and even if he can't feel the sun he deserves to still see the colors of Baldur's Gate 🥺

[sun-marie]

The Pale Elf, after everything 🌿

[genericpuff]

Are there any characters from LO that you actually like/don’t mind

I have a lot more appreciation for Minthe now with all the hindsight that Hades and Persephone are often way worse than she is. She still had a lot of issues on her own end that she didn't deal with well, and while I would have liked to see her actually develop properly beyond her struggles both internal and with Hades, I think the best thing we could have asked for was Minthe being written out of the story the way she was. At least then Rachel couldn't continue to use her as a punching bag (she just tagged in Leuce for that, sigh)

Helios is great, zero issue with him. This scene is a lot funnier and more relatable to read in hindsight:

like ofc Helios is gonna rat on her, he's the fucking sun who's been around for thousands of years, why would he put any more of his limited freedom on the line for macaroni art LMAO (and yes, Rachel herself confirmed that Persephone made macaroni art cards for Helios, it's like... yeah okay it's cute but Persephone and Demeter still hid a crime from Zeus, the sentimental value of the birthday cards have no bearing on that LOL)

Thanatos is also in the camp of "characters I appreciate more in hindsight and wish got better character development". Adding in the 'twist' that he was Hades' adoptive son after we just spent nearly two seasons watching Hades treat him like just a lowly employee who didn't deserve his respect was certainly... a choice. And I don't think I should have to explain why it was a very very BAD one LOL

Hephaestus is also great, I know he's an extremely minor character whose only real role was to delete the blackmail photos from Apollo's phone but, like. look at him???

amazing. precious. sweet boy. and it has absolutely nothing to do with my absent older brother issues why would you say that- (｡•́︿•̀｡) that said, there are still flaws in his design (his prosthetics especially because he's constantly wearing running blades for every occasion which I feel like Rachel only chose because they "looked cool" and were "easier to draw" but like. his poor hips and back, that's gotta be uncomfortable 😭) but even just his face on its own is ironically one of the most unique character designs across the entire cast, not for any sort of outstanding or creative reasons, you just can't possibly mistake or color swap him with anyone else LMAO and though I can't feasibly give credit to Rachel for writing a neurodivergent character - because I have no clue if that was her intention here, afaik she's never really talked about it - I can wholly relate to him being the introverted computer guy who just wants to be left alone with his work and his airpods, like that's literally just me LOL

And of course nothing Rachel could ever do would make me hate Demeter, I think it's so ironic and tone deaf that Rachel claimed she "didn't get" why Demeter was so hated by the fans and didn't "agree" with the comparisons to Mother Gothel, but like... Rachel literally wrote her that way. And while she did "resolve" it, it wasn't with any actual empathy towards Demeter's own side of things, it was just bandaids on top of bandaids and then going "yep! She's all better now! That's character development!" Out of all the characters who deserved better, she was the one who deserved the most 😔💓

[lilacgaby]

I love your writing style! Could you do maybe a sfw alphabet for tamaki?

aa tysm! i love tamaki so ofc!

a- affection,

tamaki shows his affection through gifts. buys you little gifts and treats from his travels around japan, always thinking of you as he passes by shops. he just gets too nervous to speak or share his love for you, but as he places another themed keychain in your hand, you know he loves you.

b- best friend

as a best friend he'd be a great listener. probably gives great advice that he never applies to himself, but encourages you greatly. probably views you highly too, admiring your best traits.

c- comfort

he'd comfort you with his presence. making sure you know that he's there for you whether you need him, listening with taut ears as you explain what's wrong, or just holding you if you can't speak.

d- domestic

he'd be a good cook because of his quirk! he'd cook a variety of different things you've never tried before, types of meats you would've never tried but he surprisingly made taste good. while i don't think he's a meat freak, i think he'll make an effort to keep clean.

e- end

if he broke up with you... something's wrong with you. sorry.

if you broke up with him.. something's wrong with you, again not sorry. but, he'd be distraught, his anxiety coming back and worsened for like a week, not to mention mirio, fatgum, and kiri HATE you. deserved though.

f- fiance

i see tamaki as the guy to want a perfect relationship, and he'd value marriage highly. he waits about three years to propose to you, but values your opinion highly, so if you want to get married quicker or wait he'd listen to you.

g- gentle

he's the definition of gentle. so sweet with you and if he even thinks he hit you forget it, he'd probably beg for your forgiveness, and treat you like glass for the rest of the day, even after you reassure him.

h- hugs

first time you hugged him he almost passed away from glee, he loves hugs now. hug him please.

i - ily

he says i love you a year into the relationship. you just make him so indescribably happy that he couldn't put it in to words, but it slipped out on your anniversary date. since then, it's become a bit easier for him to say it, but he still gets flushed.

j- jealous

i think his jealousy mind stem more from insecurity than your actions, he'd feel like you'd deserve someone more confident, and seeing you hang around with a confident person would upset him mentally. wouldn't voice it much though.

k- kisses

kiss him and he'll die.. but now he can't live without them. has to get one before he leaves out to a mission please, or else it's all he'll think about.

l- little ones

surprisingly good with kids! especially ones on the more timid side like him, he doesn't feel as judged as he plays with them. and it's sooo cute to see him using his quirk to impress them.

m- morning

his favorite way to wake up is huddled up with you in his bed, i will die on my belief that he's a little spoon, so he loves waking up in your chest, your hands wrapping him close to you as the sun peeks in.

n- night

he's probably exhausted after his patrols, he gets home late sometimes, and the think he wants the most is to be with you. he collapses into you, after showering of course, and falls asleep to the beats of your heart.

o- open

you have to be his friend before his lover, sorry! he'll open up to you after becoming close friends, which might take a while.

p- patience

i think he's a patient guy, in arguments and overall in life. he'll do his best to stay calm, but he's not great at regulating his emotions so he'll let it out sometimes!

q- quizzes

great listener who knows everything about you. knows your favorite color, song, where you want to go, even knows things about yourself before you yourself know them.. kinda telepathic in that's sense.

r- remembers

you know that common 'forgets your anniversary/birthday trope?' yeah not happening with this man. he has his calendar marked, alarms set, assistant notified. yeah he'll be on top of it.

s- security

he'd stand up for you if the time called for it. putting away his anxious thoughts as he fought for you, or stood up for you. even though after he'd freak out a bit, hed be happy as he saw the look in your eyes.

t- try

he'll try so hard in your relationship, he just wants everything to go right. plans out everything by the hour :(

u- ugly

he has no bad habits sorry! perfect man in my eyes.

v- vanity

isn't obsessed with his looks that much, just wants to look cool. doesn't worry over your looks either, he thinks you're perfect </3

w- whole

god forbid you have to go somewhere without him, or he has a mission without you. he just feels so incomplete without you and your comfort, your hugs, your kisses, but your reunion is so cute everytime that it makes up for it.

x- xtra

he lives off your compliments, like if you randomly don't compliment him he'll be sad for the rest of the day.

y- yuck

he would hate for anyone to be cocky and rude, so obnoxious and inconsiderate.

zzz- sleep

as i said, little spoon tamaki on top! loves it when you sleep facing towards eachother, once you tried it once, he literally cannot sleep any other way.

best boy tamaki ahghb :((

[soapssuds]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 9 | what he deserves

Warnings | execution, blood, gore, death, yandere satoru, sexual content, etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

GOJO SAYU laughed. His eyes dripping with tears, red and puffy. It was a stark contrast to the maniacal laughter escaping his grinning lips as he struggled against his constraints.

"She belongs to me! In every life she belongs to me!"

When Gojo died as Seiji in his last life, he couldn't help but to be overrun with guilt. But he didn't have a choice. Y/n married some man that wasn't him.

And in this new life, y/n was but a sweet little baker. Her cheeks were rosy. Her hair curled. Her tits looked like they needed a good grope too in the pretty (color) kimono she always wore.

The moment that Gojo Sayu saw her, his memories immediately came flooding back. He didn't stop himself from running up to her. Grabbing her. Holding her close. She was slightly older than him, he could tell. And as she hit his arm and told him to let her go, he didn't. He held on that much tighter.

Even when her own children came running out of the bakery and started hitting at his legs.

He understood where Gojo Seiji was coming from.

It was time to start over.

AGAIN.

"Gojo Sayu, for murdering the l/n family, you have been sentenced to death."

He grinned. His sick and twisted mind spinning as the rope around his neck dug tighter into his skin, his flesh.

"Any last words."

"I can't wait to see her again...and next time, she'll only be with me!"

The words of a mad man.

The Gojo clan were disappointed. Disgusted, to say the least. To think one of their own, next clan leader no less, was able to fall to such depravity.

The current leader raised his arm and signaled for the rope to be cut.

Little did they know, he was lost to depravity a few lives ago, and as the rope snapped Gojo Sayu's neck, his laughter still haunted them all.

And it haunted GOJO SAYAMI too as he opened his eyes. The sun hitting his irises as he squinted.

"You're awake!"

He felt someone bend over him and block out the sun's rays and place a gentle kiss upon his lips. A small smile soon forming there as he raised a hand to cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

Breaking the kiss suddenly, she leant back and Gojo was blessed with her angelic features.

Y/n.

"Did you sleep well?"

The question brought him to the present. Where his head laid in her lap as the two basked in the sun in a flower field, far from any prying eyes.

"Mmm, it was a good nap, but I had a terrible dream."

He reached up and caressed her cheek. Her eyebrows furrowing.

"Do you..want to talk about it?"

It was so cute watching her worry over him, the sight caused him to grin.

"No," he finally answered as he thought about the dream. About the memories of his past lives, "its just a silly dream. Nothing to worry yourself over sweet girl."

"Are you sure?"

He watched her worried face, a smirk soon forming his lips as an idea took over, "well... maybe there is something you could do to make me feel better," he hummed out as sat up to pat his lap. The action caused her to blush, "Sayami! We- we aren't married yet! We can't do that stuff..."

He gave his best puppy dog eyes, an innocent facade overtaking his features as his lips formed a pout, "I just wanted you to sit in my lap, promise."

She eyed him a moment, suspicion raking her brain before she relented. She never could say no to him, and he always took advantage over that fact. (Not like he could say no to her either.)

When she finally plopped down into his lap, his arms were quick to snake around her waist. His chin nuzzling into the crook of her neck, causing her to laugh softly.

"Something funny, sweet girl?"

She placed her hands over his. Her fingers lightly tracing his knuckles, "its nothing, you just seem a bit more clingy today is all."

He hummed, "I'm just trying to show i love you."

That and because I remembered everything... I still can't believe my past self went crazy and got himself executed. What an idiot.

He wasn't sure if he was calling himself an idiot or not since him and his past selves were technically the same person. The same soul.

Well, whatever.

"Besides, it feels like we finally got what we deserve you know?"

She smiled fondly. Her fingers tracing small shapes on the back of his hands, "yeah .. with me being a commoner, I never would of imagined that your father would of let me get engaged with you. I'm so happy that we get to be together, Sayami."

That wasn't what Gojo was referring to. He was actually meaning how long it took for them to get together. It's been litteral centuries after all. The two of them have already been through a number of lives. And finally finally Gojo feels like him and y/n are getting the happy ending they deserved.

But y/n didn't need to know that. She didn't need to know of all the trouble he went through to finally get here.

Because it didn't matter anymore. Not with her sitting on his lap so prettily. Which, of course, caused his little dirty thought from earlier come into play. His hands breaking their hold on her stomach and carefully maneuvering to her waist.

"Sa- ?!"

She was quickly cut off when he pressed down, his now hard, clothed cock pressing against her ass.

"Sayami?!"

"What," he said with a chuckle, "we've done this before. You know," he leant forward where his breath tickled her ear, "where I hump that pretty cunt of yours and feel how soaked your panties get. And get to hear you beg for my fingers~. Granted, what I wouldn't give to have those tight walls of yours snug on my cock, but oh well, its like you said, we aren't married yet," he moved his lips down her neck. Teeth nipping and bitting, mouth sucking, tongue licking.

"We- we're outside though."

He could feel her resolve crumble as she squirmed, and before he could say anything else to entice her, she had turned in his grasp, her legs drapping over his sides as she ground against his erection. Her mewls and moans echoing into the air as she placed her hands on his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric when she pressed her pelvis down.

"S- sayami~"

He helped her grind against him, his own hands gripping her hips as he forced her to move and and forth, against his hardening length that pressed tight in his trousers.

"Shit! Its in moments like these where I really want to fuck you dumb!"

He grunted and moaned, his forehead pressing against her own as pleasure mixed together.

She whined as she tried to quicken thr pace, the sight causing him to smirk as he took in her flushed features.

"Close?"

She nodded wordlessly, and he couldn't help but to groan at the sight. Oh what he wouldnt give to finally see her come undone on his cock instead. But whatever, he could wait.

He lived many lives after all. A few more days wouldn't hurt. Or maybe it would...

Infinity taglist | @whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww @kenstarsworld

[quinloki]

My apolocheese in advance for this, but all 50??? 😀 (Excluding any you may have answered already and/or don't feel up to answer)

Feel free to discard this ask entirely, or answer it in portions whenever you have energy. Whatever works for you. ^^ Just don't overwork yourself (ironic ik, coming from the guy who's asking for all 50, but I can't help it <3)

You know what - sure. XD

I'm going to put this below a cut though, cause whew!

who is/are your comfort character(s)? Marco definitely, but I find comfort in a lot of characters, so I should include Kid, Sabo, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Thatch, Penguin and Law in there too.

lighter or matches? Man I love a good zippo, but nothing beats the smell of a match, so I'll have to go with matches

do you leave the window open at night? Not unless I absolutely have to.

which cryptyd being do you believe in? Are ghosts as a general classification close enough? I've seen like three, but I haven't seen any other cryptids.

what color are your eyes? Brown ^_^

why did you do that? Sometimes I do not even know. I let go of a pot the other day for no good damned reason and was just glad it was empty.

hair-ties or scrunchies? Hair-ties. There's no scrunchie in this 'Verse that can contain my hair.

how many water bottles are in your room right now? In my room like my bedroom? Or as in the room I'm in right now? In either case it's zero. I have this spiffy mason jar monstrosity for water and it's down in the kitchen atm.

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee? Caffeine, honestly, is what I prefer XD Coffee's crap unless I make it myself so I don't even really register the flavor of it most of time.

would you slaughter the rich? Hm... ... no. I can't say I'd protect or defend them, but my sinful ass isn't going to go around casting judgements on others, no matter if I think they deserve it or not.

favorite extracurricular activity? >.> <.< I mean... I can't really say anything other than sex at this point.

what kind of day is it? A middling Sunday. The sun is pleasant, my cats are napping and look egregiously adorable, but there's still the weight of unemployment on the house, so it's middling.

when was the last time you ate? About 5 minutes or so ago. Rice and veggies.

do you love the smell of earth after it rains? Most certainly ^_^

are you a parent? (all answers qualify) lol not even a little.

can you drive? Better than most. My grandfather taught me with a bag of apples, but I don't really enjoy driving so I don't do it much.

are you farsighted or nearsighted? Whichever it is that needs glasses to see.

what hair products do you use? Cheap ones >.>

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? If you wanted, certainly, but I have bit my nails since I was 8 so my skill at nail painting does not exist ^_^;

do you say soda or pop? Previously answered, but the short answer is soda.

something you’ve kept since childhood? My friend John. We became friends when we were 5 and 6 and I still play D&D with him on the weekends.

what type of person are you? A lucky one.

how do you feel about chilly weather? Previously answered, but I love winter and autumn

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing? Probably stargazing. Which I stand by because you're not getting me on a roof when the sun's up.

perfume/body spray or lotion? I... uh... none?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times? Like, in my mind? Ah, I licked a guy's nipples for so long he asked me if I was enjoying myself, and instead of saying yes like a boss, I got flustered and it killed the mood. Alas.

about how many hours of sleep did you get? ... 6? I think.

do you wear a mask? When I leave the house, yeah.

how do you like your shower water? Flesh-meltingly hot.

is there dishes in your room? Yes, but only because I just finished eating veggies and rice before I started answering this.

what type of music keeps you grounded? Previously answered, but I really do listen to all of it.

do you have a favorite towel? Nah. I have a favorite spatula though.

the last adventure you’ve been on? My spouse and I went on a 14 day road trip before the pandemic hit and I think between the states and Canada we traveled something like 5,490 miles or so.

is there a song you know every word to by heart? Don't Let It Bring You Down by Annie Lennox

what’s your timezone? East Coast

how many times have you changed your url? 0 - and I don't foresee it happening either.

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years? My aforementioned bestie, but also my lil' "brother" who is not really technically my brother, but who has known me since he was 14 and I was 17, and my D&D group has been together for over 10 years now, so that's like 11 or so more people.

a soap bar that smells good? I use cheap liquid soap, sorry ^^;

do you use lip balm? Nope.

did you have any snacks today? Yes, a pear.

how do you take your coffee? Any way I can get it. Black is preferred though.

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site? Discord, maybe I imagine.

what’s your take on spicy foods? I am weak, my family is weak, my ancestors were weak, but I will sniffle and cry and sob the entire time because it's fucking delicious

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it? Sadly, they suffer more alive than dead, so >.>

can you remember what happened yesterday? Well enough I'm not worried about early on set dementia.

favorite holiday film? I was gonna say Die Hard, but then it made me think of The Last Unicorn and so I'mma go with that.

what was the last message you sent? Cheering on family who did early voting.

when did you first try an alcohol beverage? Supervised - 12 Because no one was there to stop me, 15.

can you skip rocks? I can trip over rocks, but that's about as skillful as I get. ^_^

can i tag you in random stuff? Certainly - I cannot promise I'll always know how to reply, but I actually really appreciate being tagged because I miss stuff easily.

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 42: Amongst the Gray

listen idk what about this chapter was so fucking hard for me to write but alas

here we are

I do hope u enjoy regardless of how much I struggled to shit it out

..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 42: Amongst the Gray

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 42/? WC: 112,264 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

This room is very gray. 

It's really just -- it's so gray. The walls are the wood of long-dead trees, the color and the life siphoned out of them by the cruel and unyielding passage of time. The floor isn't much better. Hard-packed dirt. Ancient. Untouched by the sun. 

There are no windows. And the singular lamp in the center of the long, wooden worktable does little to illuminate the space.

Every corner of this room feels bereft. Dull. Still. 

It's the servant's quarters. That big, open room in the basement where Gaz shot the zombie's brain out.

You haven't set a foot in here since then. Since...all of it. The zombie. Laswell. You're not sure why Cap picked this room instead of the kitchen. You suppose it doesn't matter.

You should probably give her a name, you think. The zombie. For as often as she crosses your mind. 

You mentally admonish yourself for not thinking of it sooner and comb your mental list. The one you'd started over a decade ago, back when you were still practically a girl. When you thought a baby was something you wanted. Or could even have. 

Sarai. Bijou. Marise. 

None of them quite fit. 

You'll keep this in the back of your mind, though. You'll think of something. 

She deserves a name. 

Cap, bless his heart, has been droning on and on about the game plan for Boston and today's team assignments for the last fifteen minutes -- and you've heard almost none of it. 

Your legs are crossed uncomfortably beneath you, clenched together so hard you're losing a little feeling in your right butt cheek. You can't help it, though. You're trying to hold in place the ragged, long-forgotten washcloth Farah managed to find for you when you'd come crying to her door minutes before today's call-time. 

You'd awoken that morning to the sight of blood. Covering your hands. Stark against poor Simon's white sheets. 

A wave of panic had crashed through you -- only to be swiftly followed by a familiar twinge in your lower back. 

You'd shifted the covers back. Huffed a disbelieving laugh and simply -- stared. At the sticky shade of currant coating the skin of your inner thighs.

Simon had startled hard at the sound, hands immediately finding your waist, tugging you into his body protectively. 

"Si, it's okay," you'd assured him. "I'm okay."

He had blinked down at you, eyes snagging around your legs. "What--oh. Oh."

You'd spent the next several minutes convincing him that you were, in fact, okay, and allowing him to carry you to the bathroom for another shower. He'd taken his time with you again -- tender and reverent and utterly devoted to you. You're not entirely certain he's real sometimes. But he is. Every time you pinch yourself to be sure, he swats at you like a protective mother hen. 

"What the hell're you doing?"

"Just...checking."

When you'd insisted upon returning to his room that you would do his laundry for him, he'd furrowed his pretty blonde brow in argument.

"I know how to get blood out of linens, Ace," he'd said, practically rolling his eyes. And, given that you had little rebuttal against this truth, that had been the end of it. 

"Sunshine?"

The sound of your name on Cap's lips snaps you back to reality. You jolt in your seat and grimace at the cascade of ugly sensations that follow. Fucking periods.

"Y-yep?"

Cap frowns at you. "You're with Soap."

Your eyes find his directly across the table from you, wide and blue and happy to see you. Your own crinkle in return. He toes your shin playfully in greeting and you have to resist the urge to react with a similar gesture, lest you shift your rag out of place. 

"Alright," Cap goes on, clapping his hands together. "Begone with the lot of you. We'll reassess tomorrow, map out a plan for hauling shit out of here. Pick-up is in three days."

The room stirs as people rise to their feet. Scuffs of shoes. Grouchy morning grumblings. You glance to your right to find Simon staring daggers at the Captain. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

He looks down at you, gaze immediately softening. "Nothin'," he mutters. "Just sorry to be stuck with Cap all day instead of with you two."

You giggle and waggle your eyebrows at Soap, who grins. You give Simon's knee a conciliatory squeeze.

"We'll come find ye for supper?" Soap suggests.

Simon smiles at his friend, his mask stretching with the movement. 

"Alright. Just try not to get into any trouble without me."

Soap snorts. "Wouldn't dream of it, L.t."

Simon shakes his head. "Nah, be careful with this one." He jerks a thumb in your direction.

"Hey!" 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[cryptocism]

i was gonna ask how inertia II (helped superboy prime fight the teen titans) fit in the too many thads AU cause i originally thought he was an thad/bart clone but? he's just some dude? i feel like your (fantastic) fic gave him as much mind as the comics

truly that version of Inertia is such a mystery to me GOD i have so many questions. like, he isn't paid much mind within the actual narrative bc there's like 8 different fights happening all at once and Superboy Prime is the main antagonist but, straight up Who Is He.

like in the span of #98-100 there's a couple things that do get confirmed about him

for instance:

"After this is over, I gotta talk to them about this costume they gave me, I mean - green? It's the color of a turtle. Talk about Irony." - "This Inertia hasn't got a clue. He doesn't know that the last speedster to wear that costume killed me. I got better. But the scars run deep."

New Inertia says "they" gave him the Inertia costume. Who is "they"? Superboy Prime? CRAYDL? Someone else?

Bart concludes that New Inertia doesn't know how the previous one killed him. I assume just based on New Inertia's irreverence? But unclear.

"Inertia killed Bart, but that's not the same one. He's two inches taller. No doubt the costume choice is deliberate. Bart only has a few buttons, so it's easy to push them."

Tim notes in his narration that this Inertia is two inches taller than the last one. Why? What purpose does that serve?

Superboy Prime has proven himself capable of making clones, given the gaggle of Kon clones that show up in this fight, but if he made New Inertia to be another clone of Bart or of the previous Inertia, why the physical difference?

Even Bart can't figure out if this guy is a clone or not:

"What's the deal with all these clones? Is that Inertia one too? Or just another speedster?"

Which is kinda wild because although there is a wide selection of speedsters in present, Bart knows pretty much all of them. And even if this is a Random Guy With Superspeed, what would compel him to be here, fighting Bart?

And before any questions can be asked or answers can be given, Bart gets a lil lost in the trauma sauce (can't really blame him) and kicks the shit out of New Inertia

"I died. That happened. Inertia was the catalyst for it. He delivered the fatal blow. But I'm back, and this isn't the same Inertia, right? This is real. I've played out this scenario in my head over and over again. And every time, it felt better and better. Inflicting pain. Destroying him. Avenging myself." "So much anger - radiating like the sun. A dark, black sun. Bart is seething with rage." "It's what he deserves."

the "it's what he deserves" line always gets me. because they've already established this is a New Inertia, he literally hasn't done anything except fuck around causing trouble along with the rest of Superboy Prime's posse. anyway Bart obviously has lots of baggage surrounding Inertia, with the actions of one bleeding onto the other.

(fun fact Raven's description of Bart's emotions being a dark black sun informs a lot of the imagery in chapter 21 of Frequency)

"I... I could've killed him." "But you didn't. You controlled your emotions." "Yeah. See, Raven - we all got our demons inside."

AND THAT IS THE LAST WE SEE OF THIS GUY. Where does he go after this? Is he still unconscious after the fight or does he get away while they're going after Superboy Prime? Who does he go back to? Who The Hell Is He? Fuck you they gotta punch Superboy Prime so hard he ends up in purgatory.

Then of course the run is over, the universe is rebooted, and we get New 52. So all these questions will presumably remain unanswered forever.

But Canon Things About New Inertia Include:

he's "new to this"

not the previous incarnation of Inertia

two inches taller than the previous Inertia

received the Inertia costume from someone else, only referred to as "they"

working with Superboy Prime, but with zero on-panel interactions with either Superboy Prime or any of the other villains who have joined the fight. the degree of familiarity is unclear if not nonexistent.

irreverence regarding his predecessor implies he doesn't know the full history of what went down between Inertia and Bart

may or may not be another clone

gets the shit kicked out of him

it's so frustratingly vague lmao.

so yeah i took that and ran with it to inform Six's traits and backstory: The "they" who gave him the costume becoming CRAYDL, the other Six's, (and Project Inertia more generally). His height because he's slightly older than the previous Inertia was.

Follows-up on the previous Inertia's antagonism with only vague knowledge of what actually happened. Underestimates Bart's feelings on the topic. Joins up with Superboy Prime, not because of loyalty or familiarity but because going solo is what killed the old guy. Irreverent, uncommitted, overconfident. Tends to get the shit kicked out of him.

and then to follow up on this fight, Six's "first" meeting with Bart becomes his own weird revenge quest over that one time Bart kicked his ass. mostly just wanted the closure there, and for Six to have held a grudge about it for literal centuries bc it is funny 2 me.

my motivation for writing Frequency came from a frustration at the contradictory/unexplained/unexplored plot points and storylines specifically surrounding Thad/Inertia, this whole thing being a major one. At its most basic, Frequency is just my attempt to weave the disparate elements of canon into a cohesive narrative.

[sundew199]

Do I deserve this?

What it would be like with Reiner Post-Rumbling,

Tags: angst, slight mention of suicide, trauma, healing. No specific p/n’s used.

A/N: can't get post-rumbling Reiner out of my head, I miss him :(

Immediately after the rumbling it would take a while for him to grasp that he's alive, stuck in limbo while also trying to help everyone else get somewhat adjusted.

Reiner wouldn't understand why he feels empty, why he can't cry even though he wants to.

You would be his grounding force, holding him when he'd jump awake from a nightmare, later learning he they were variations of his most traumatic days. He wouldn't sleep after waking up, burying his face in his hands and muttering about how unworthy he still felt, questioning why he lived when he swore death was all he deserved.

in the mornings, after an intense nightmare, Reiner would be numb. Forcing himself to get through the day, taking on the ambassador duties even though it only added more to his internal turmoil.

Nothing felt real, even when he held you back at night. Your warmth wouldn't penetrate like he wished it would, he couldn't find comfort in the heat of your body when you rested your head on his chest, like he used to before all of this.

His thoughts would calm when you'd talk about anything, your day at the market, the walks you'd take down by the water. Knowing you were finding little joys in the day helped him remove the blinders from his eyes, slowly. Though it wouldn’t last like either of you hoped.

A year post-rumbling is when everything came crashing down at once. You came home from doing a quick market run to find him collapsed by the small kitchen, crying and breaking down in the temporary housing you and him shared.

Panicked and afraid, you ran to his side none the less, taking him in your arms and letting him cry until he could speak.

But even then the words were drowning in his sobs, incoherent and blubbering. His once sun colored eyes were so clouded with sorrow and guilt, pleading for understanding of everything that led him to here.

Reiner confessed he didn't want to live, he couldn't stand the pain of knowing all the lives lost in the rumbling, how he caused all of this when breaking wall Maria. How the other warriors would be alive; Bertholdt, Colt, Porco and Marcel would be here if he wasn't born.

At a loss for words at his confession, you could only hold him and repeat to him how that wasn't true, that it wasn't his fault he was born, nor the actions of a brainwashed twelve year old couldn't have been helped in the end.

You feared even more for his well-being, seeking out the deserpate advice of the other five. You hated asking them what to do to help Reiner like they weren't suffering as well, but you couldn't bare the thought losing him.

Armin and Jean informed you Eren spoke with everyone individually through his titan, everyone gaining their memories back when he was defeated. Reiner would've gotten one as well, prompting you to ask and see if it were true.

Eren did speak with Reiner, promised him that all of this, breaking through the wall and everything after was all intended, all put into motion by him and Ymir. But Reiner didn't believe it, refused to believe it as he tearfully told you.

Never before had you felt so useless, so out of arm's length from the man who held your heart from the very beginning.

Two years post-rumbling and Reiner's emotional and mental state were a rollercoaster that never stopped.

After the floodgates opened, Reiner opened up in a way you never wished to see again.

The nightmares were worse, the breakdowns were frequent and the desire to grant himself an early death was strong.

Night and day you remained by his side, even as he tried to preform his duties as an ambassador of peace. Holding him and wishing the resources he had when he was a warrior were still available. Reiner desperately needed someone more adept to wrangle the emotions of a traumatized man, who suffered from his own regretful actions.

Everything took a turn when Reiner found a proper outlet for the guilt. He journaled every word that entered his mind, channeling it into paper and burning the journal when all the pages were full. Pieck had made the suggestion one day and you couldn’t be more thankful to her.

Five journals were filled and burned and that's when you could see the cocoon breaking to give birth to the man who deserved the life he fought for in the very end.

The progression of his metamorphosis was slow, almost agonizing but you and everyone else could see the changes. Light in his beautiful golden eyes were returning as the days went on and the will to heal from the past flowed through him.

Three years post-rumbling and Reiner was a man in the process being reborn.

Sleeping through most nights now but not escaping the nightmares all together. Healing would never be linear, but at least now it were on an upward streak.

Reiner took a real passion to his work as an ambassador of peace, turning the tragedy of the world into an opportunity to mold it into something everyone at one point dreamt of.

Paradis was still a fear that lived in the back of his head, unable to escape the fear of a possible retaliation, ruining the progression him and the other five had made so far.

His self pity and guilt turned into devotion when it came to you, making promises to further become the man that deserved your love. After all you had done for him, this was the least he could do for you.

It was hard not to walk on eggshells with him at times, knowing how easily triggered he still was but at least now Reiner had developed better coping mechanisms to deal with the stress and trauma that came from surviving the rumbling and saving whoever survived the destruction.

Coming to terms that the events leading to that fateful day would always live with him, even if he wished there were a way to erase them from memory. But he learned that what he endured provided the melding to who he was today.

Reiner Braun would probably never fully heal from his life as a warrior or saving the world from Eren, but if it weren’t for you and sticking beside even on the hardest of days he wouldn’t be able to appreciate the new world he was building. A world he felt safe and at ease at, one where he experienced the desire to raise a family with you, safe enough to live a boring simple life when he could.

-----

“Are you sure this is something I deserve?” He would ask randomly one evening, sitting beside you in a bench he built for the back porch, watching the sun set below the horizon.

“Yes, every part of you deserves this. You're worthy of a life free of pain and guilt, to live through your second chance, I can't think of anyone more deserving than you Reiner.” Responding back soothingly, interlocking your hand with his and pressing it to your cheek. Reiner slightly turned to look at you, expression blank then turning soft at the sweet reassure he would never grow tired of hearing.

“Thank you for showing me that I do, I don’t know where I would be with you.”

[ovtsakaramel]

Sunset of death

Finnick Odair x gn!reader

TW: death, hunger games

note: this is really short and I fell asleep writing it

"I'm so sorry" you held your knife to his throat. The silver blade shining in the sunset, you could see it's colours filling it. Pressed into his tan skin, it looked like art. Imagining the blood covering it made you wanna throw up, but you had to admit that it would look disgustingly beautiful. Finnick Odair, a skinny, but really fit 14 year old boy laying and squeezing in the grip of your body. His sea green eyes, saturated like the sky, we're flickering with fear and betreyal. Not like he expected different, but it still *hurt*. You two had a bond, spending the days searching through the forest for food and other tributes, and the nights laying next to each other, his eyes like pools in the green darkness of nature. That little flicker of fire that mirrored in those same eyes was the same color as the sun. You looked up and then at the eyes. Watery and red.

"Just look at the sky, ok? Look at the sun. It's beautiful, isn't it? It has all sorts of different colors. The sun is such a bright yellow, it's shining and glowing so brightly." He hiccuped as he looked to the sky, his eyes squeezing because of the brightness. "Yeah, yeah, it's bright. It's as bright as you. You're my shining star, yeah? A star that shines during the day, a star that shines from preferring to glow when there's no one else, when it has all the place to shine. You'll always shine for me Finnick." Asshole. You didn't even remember his last name and you were holding a knife to his throat. "You'll always shine for everyone. They'll all love your shine, dead or not. You'll leave a dark spot in everyone's vision, a dark spot that won't dissapear if you're still looking at the sun. You won't die. You'll leave a dark spot in my vision too. You'll just... Shine like all the other stars. At least that way you would be with people who understand. Everyone who you had how I'm having you right now. With a weapon to the throat. Bug don't think about it now. Just look at the sky... How the dark clouds try to stop your shine. But even with them you still brighten the whole planet..." Another hiccup. He looked into your eyes and a tear fell down from your eyes. You tried to take a breath but it was too much. You were tired of doing this. Tired of killing. Tired of trying to do it nicely because the Capitol can't. But you had to. Because he deserved a nice death. Or at least a nice killer. Or at least a killer that was trying to be nice. Your mouth was slightly open as you took messy breaths, you feel your nose fill and fight your breathing, so you used your open mouth for it. You knew your whole face was burning. God, you were taking this worse than him. Even though the look of fear I the boys eyes was unmatched. He was looking at the sky and then to you, gasping, his throat dangerously almost touching the knife. "I'm so sorry Finn." You mumbled as you closed your eyes to fix your vision. Then you felt it. The sharp pain in your abdomen. You fell on your back close to him, your knife leaving your sweaty palm. The air escaped your lungs as your back hit the ground and a tall silhouette stepped on your hand and a leg pressed over yours leaving the pain in your abdomen stinging. Finnicks sea green eyes met yours as he took the knife and gently held it to your delicate throat.

"I would say some I trusted you, why did I you betray, don't you care about me shit, but we both know I would just be playing for the cameras. One of us was destined to die the moment we were reaped. I think we're both too scared to die, even though I have a feeling what comes after this won't be life." He whispered the last one in your ear. He was hiding behind a confident expression, but you were still close enough to see that same fear and now misery in his eyes as he held the knife. "I'm sorry honey. Even though I really shouldn't be. Just look at the sunset, yeah? Remember all those words you said to me." Your eyes left his his as you accepted your fate.

The sunset was beautiful. The sun was even lower now, and as it drowned even deeper you felt the knife slice your throat. Everything from then was just pain and sunsets. Distracted by the beauty, but still feeling it.

"Please don't look me in the eyes." He barely wishered, you knew his eyes were filled with tears. But you were fucking selfish. You couldn't die without getting a look in those eyes again. You looked at them and saw the ocean. He opened his mouth, but it was already too late. And the last thing you remember is that color.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Still With You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Teaser

Every day, every moment If I knew this was going to happen I would have remembered more of them

-Still With You

Summary: With You Still is a story that follows the lives of Luna and her most cherished friends. Love, Lust. Life, Loss. Passion, Pain. Desire and Death. Those are the many things that befall them as they navigate life trying to find their purpose. Will she be able to find a way to reach that utopia she had once dreamed of? Or will she realize that things that might've felt like a dream come true can soon be twisted into her worst nightmare. Read as Luna, Jungkook, Grey and Jimin navigate this thing called life. Will they get through this with their friendships intact? Only time will tell... Pairing: Luna (reader) x Jungkook and Jimin, f2l love triangle Word Count: 600~ Warnings: Explicit language, yändere, mental illness, death, substance abuse, sex, domestic violence and sexual assault. Please keep this in mind as the story progresses. a/n: I transferred this story over from Wattpad but decided to change up some of the characters P.s. I have no set plan for this story so any suggestions or requests are more than appreciated

I never thought it could end up like this, that things could go to shit so easily.

Where did I go wrong?

Those are the thoughts that run through my head over and over again as I hold their cold lifeless body in my arms.

This doesn't happen, this couldn't happen! Not to us.

Everything was just falling into place and yet, it all went up in flames the moment I heard that blood curdling scream.

What did I do to deserve this? What did they do to deserve this? They were so young, had their whole life ahead of them, our life...

It was ripped away from us before it even began.

Endless sirens pierce my ears as they make their way to the scene but I can't help but feel that they're too late.

I can't lose them, not like this.

I could see our future fading away with every wave that washed over our bodies. Why are the young taken away in such horrific ways?

If things had been different, if I had been different, would it have changed anything? Or was it inevitable from the start...

Nothing in this world could possibly make me feel whole again, not after what he did. How could he do this? After everything we've been though he just goes off and hurts the one person I knew I could always rely on.

And for what? Because he was jealous?

I guess jealousy and revenge are more important to him than my happiness.

To think that I trusted him with my life because for once I let my guard down so I could actually feel something is laughable now after everything he's done

He proved to me that my worst nightmare could happen just because I wanted to feel loved.

Huh, well never fucking again will I ever love someone as much as I loved them.

I gave up my whole life just so I could be with him because I thought he was good for me. That he was going to take me away from all the pain and suffering I had dealt with my entire life.

When in actuality, his mind games were the ones that were twisting my reality into something that I didn't even recognize.

I never once felt like I needed someone to make me feel complete. And then he came around and I couldn't help but feel empty without him.

Everything about him made me want to get closer. But like Icarus I flew too close to the sun and in the end I got burned and in turn took everyone I knew and loved down with me.

Toxicity is the only word that can be used to describe what we had. I thought that he loved me the way that I loved him.

I was naÏve and had my vision tinted with pink colored glasses when it came to us. Even when everyone was telling me no, I couldn't help but say yes.

He was my one and only, my first true love as the fairytales call it.

Yet it all ended in the most excruciating heartbreak that I didn't even know existed.

Love can be cruel and rip you to shreds. I don't believe in love, and I never will. And I swear I will never allow anyone to get close enough to hurt me ever again.

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[heli-writes]

A marriage of convenience, part 5: firsts.

Pairing: Yoriichi x you

Summary: Yoriichi's friends think that Yoriichi is too lonely and needs a wife and family to take care of him. They propose a marriage of convenience to a woman who's in need of a husband. The arrangement of the marriage is simple: both parties live their lives as before, y/n takes care of Yoriichi as a wife and Yoriichi keeps unwanted men (and demons) away. Love is not required, friendship is appreciated. However, how detached can one be when living so close to each other?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist

It's warm. That's what Yoriichi notices first. There's something plush but spiky beneath him. A sweet smell fills the air. He sits up groggily like he's waking up from a bad dream. When he opens his eyes, everything is too bright. He sits in a field of colorful flowers. He can't see the end of the field, it's so bright like he is staring right into the sun. He squints his eyes. When he finally widens them again a little, he notices a figure standing a few meters in front of him. He gets up to get a closer look at the person, maybe ask them where they are. "Excuse me?", he yells but his voice sounds as if he's miles away from his own body. The figure becomes clearer. It's a woman. She's wearing a yellow kimono and a hairband. Uta!, Yoriichi thinks. His heart starts racing and he involuntarily picks up speed. There is so much I still need to tell you, he wants to say as he reaches for her. He grabs her should and she turns around facing him. (Y/N) smiles and says: "There you are, Yoriichi. I was waiting for you."

A sharp pain rips him out of the dream he was having. Instinctively he reaches for his arm, the source of the pain. He sits up disoriented. When his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, he realizes he's at the guest house. "Are you okay?", (y/n) asks, "Seems like you were having I nightmare, so I pinched you really hard.". "That explains the excruciating pain in my arm.", Yoriichi replies. Also, how can she pinch this hard, he asks himself silently. "A demon? Sometimes bad things of our past haunt us in our sleep.", (y/n) says compassionately. Yoriichi looks at her for a moment. "Something like that.", he sighs.

After a good breakfast and a walk alongside the nearby creek, the couple finds their way to the market square. (Y/n) squeaks in joy at the sight of the market. The whole place changed overnight. Chains of lights and decorative banners were strung over the market square. Rows of stalls fill the space. "Are you looking for something in particular?", Yoriichi asks. (Y/n) shrugs. "Not really, but it's just nice looking at things, I guess.", she replies. Together, they stroll over the market. (Y/n) stops at every stall and looks at the work displayed. Sometimes she even chats with the vendors. "You know, even if you're not buying something, one should acknowledge the hard work the artists and craftsmen put into their pieces.", (y/n) explains when they leave a stand with particular ugly clay pots. Eventually, they pass a stand with handmade jewelry. (Y/n) oogles the necklaces and hair pins in awe. "Hello, young lady! Are you looking at anything in particular?", the woman working at the stall asks (y/n). "Oh, nothing particular! I am just admiring your pieces! Do you make them all on your own?", (y/n) asks her. "Yes", the woman replies, "I am self-taught. My parents never had the money for buying jewelry so I started early making my own. I believe every woman, even the poorest, deserves to feel pretty.", (Y/n) gives her a bright smile, "That's such a kind business philosophy! I try to follow a similar with my business.". "Oh, you're a self-employed woman, too? What do you do?", the saleswoman asks. "I make and sell medicine, something everybody should have access to.", (y/n) announces proudly. "Seems like we're sisters in spirit!", the woman exclaims, "Why don't I look for something that might suit you?" (Y/n) chuckles embarrassed. "Oh no, it's fine. We're just here to look.", (y/n) tries to explain. "It's alright.", Yoriichi intervenes, "I'd appreciate it if you have something nice for my wife." (Y/n) blushes at Yoriichi's words. It's the first time he called her his wife.

While the saleswoman starts rummaging through some boxes behind the counter, (y/n) turns to Yoriichi. "Yoriichi, you really don't have to buy me anything.", she says. Yoriichi shrugs. "Why not? You wanted to come to this market, why not buy something?", he says. "Still...", (y/n) tries to insist. Suddenly the saleswoman appears in front of the two again. "Considering you work with your hands, a ring or bracelet would be unfitting. So, what do you think of this hairpin? It can keep your hair out of your face while working.", the woman says as she presents (y/n) with a copper hairpin. (Y/n) gasps as she takes the hairpin in her hands. The design is quite simple. The hairpin is made out of one slim stick. At one end of the stick, a decorative sun is attached. The middle of the sun is made from a burgundy-colored stone. Two delicate chains are attached to the back of the sun and two tear-shaped stones in the same color dangle from the two chains. (Y/n) strokes over the sun's stone with her thumb. "It's... like the color of your eyes, don't you think so?", (y/n) asks Yoriichi. "Hm... I guess. I suppose something in a different color would be better then.", he proposes. (Y/n) looks up to him almost offendedly. "Why that? It's such a pretty color.", she argues. "I actually really like your eyes.", she mumbles to herself but Yoriichi catches it. "In that case, we take it.", he decides. While Yoriichi rummages through his pockets for the money, the saleswoman helps (y/n) to put the hairpin into her hair and hands her a small mirror. After Yoriichi hands the woman the money, (y/n) looks up from the mirror and asks with a beaming smile on her face: "What do you think? Does this suit me?". Yoriichi stops in his tracks for a second. It's the first time he sees her with her hair in an updo. (Y/n) usually wears her hair down, even when she works or cooks. With her hair up like this and the pale blue kimono she's wearing, (y/n) looks like one of the fine ladies from the city, Yoriichi thinks. He notices that he's staring. Quickly, he clears his throat. "It suits you.", he tells her. "Really?", (y/n) asks excitedly as she takes another look in the mirror. "Really.", Yoriichi smiles kindly, "You're very beautiful, (y/n)." (Y/n) looks up to him slightly shocked and her face becomes red immediately. "T-thank you...", she stammers. The saleswoman lets out a hearty laugh. "Oh, to be young and in love. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!", she bids the two goodbye.

Embarrassed, Yoriichi and (y/n) continue their way over the market. (Y/n) keeps her eyes fixed on the ground, still taken aback by Yoriichi's sudden compliment. Meanwhile, Yoriichi couldn't help himself but glance at the side of (y/n)'s face. (Y/n) can feel Yoriichi's glances and they make her face burn even more. When she looks up to propose to find a snack to eat, she stumbles over her own feet. However, she never makes an impact on the ground, since Yoriichi reacts promptly, grabs her arm with one hand and pulls her up. Underestimating his own strength, he pulls her up a bit too strongly and her face hits his chest. Trying to prevent her from falling backward again, he quickly puts his other hand on her waist, steadying her balance. Before (y/n) knows what's happening to her, she is caged by Yoriichi's arms and awfully close to him. "Are you okay?", Yoriichi asks breathlessly. "Uhm... yeah...", (y/n) whispers. Yoriichi's looking straight into her eyes and she can't look away even though she feels terribly embarrassed. He's so close. His grip is firm but soft. (Y/n) can even smell him from the position she's in. For a moment, Yoriichi seems unable to look away either. Eventually, he lets go of her taking a deep breath. Both of them need a moment to collect themselves. "So," (y/n) says in a meek voice, "Would you like to grab some food somewhere? It's getting late." Yoriichi feels relieved about the topic change. "Yes, sure. How about some udon? Mrs. Nakamura mentioned a shop a bit outside the village.", he proposes. "Great idea! That sounds amazing. I could use some fresh air away from all this trouble.", (y/n) agrees. She's not sure if she means the market or what just happened.

The two walk to the udon shop in silence. Since the village is located on a mountain, the udon shop is a bit further up the mountain. When the two arrive, the sun has already started to set. When the two hold their bowls, they take a seat at a bench the furthest away from the other guests. They sit next to each other in an attempt to not have to look each other in the eyes. Instead, they are presented with the sunset that slowly settles over the valley. (Y/n) almost forgets her food over the natural spectacle. After they both finished their food, they continue sitting on the bench and staring at the setting sun. The sun colors the entire valley in red and orange hues. It looks as if the villages and the surrounding trees are on fire. (Y/n) sighs deeply. Yoriichi takes a look at her face. The orange of the sun sparkles in her eyes. Noticing Yoriichi's stare, she looks up to him and gives him a smile. "What are you thinking about, Yoriichi?", she asks him. I'm thinking about earlier. How soft you felt when I held you, he thinks but feels embarrassed and guilty the moment the thought crosses his mind. Instead, he simply shrugs. "You can't see the sunset from the cottage. The sun disappears behind the trees way before it starts having this color.", she points out. "Would you prefer to live on a mountain then?", Yoriichi asks her. "God no," (y/n) laughs, "Imagine having to pull that cart up a mountain every time I come back from a market. No, thank you." Yoriichi turns away from her and takes another look at the sunset. "You know, I could pull it up for you every time.", he says. (Y/n) looks at him surprised. "Oh, that's sweet of you. Does that mean you want to live on a mountain?", she asks him. Yoriichi shrugs again. This silences (y/n) for a moment. His apathy sometimes stuns her. How can he not know what he wants from life? Sometimes it seems as if the only thing he ever cares about is doing his duty as a demon slayer. "You know, (y/f/n), my fiancée always wanted to live on a mountain. He grew up on one and wanted the same for our children." Yoriichi is taken aback by this a bit. It's the first time she mentions his name and shares information about him. This must be the not forgetting part of the day, he thinks.

"Uta was pregnant when she died", he suddenly blurts out. He doesn't know where that came from. "Oh." is all (y/n) can come up with. This is new information to her. "I'm really sorry, Yoriichi.", she says quietly. After a while, she adds hesitantly: "I've been pregnant before." It's not something she wanted to share with him before, but it feels right in this moment. "I-i... Please don't think less of me now...", she rambles on. "What happened?", Yoriichi asks. (Y/n) turns away from him. "I don't know. It didn't stick. Lost it in the second trimester.", she answers. Her shoulders drop. "You know, the baby was the reason why we decided to get married. (Y/f/n) was so excited. He took the miscarriage a lot calmer than me. Promised me that we'd try again after the wedding.", (y/n) explains quietly. Slowly, Yoriichi puts his arm around her and squeezes her arm. For a moment (y/n) tenses up. Then, she relaxes and leans her head against his shoulder. "Seems like we both lost our future.", he concludes. (Y/n) thinks about this for a moment. "A future.", she corrects him, "We've lost a possible future. We're not dead yet. So... there's still a future. Just a different one." Yoriichi hums in agreement. "One worth living for?", he asks. Shocked, (y/n) sits up. "Of course. I mean... with (y/s/n) and you... that's quite a good future, I'd say.", she exclaims. Yoriichi gives her a soft smile. "I'm glad that you think our future is good.", he says. (Y/n) blinks at him dumbfoundedly. Our future, she thinks. "And you?", she asks carefully, "Do you think it's a good future?". She feels him squeezing her arm. "Yes, I do."

They stay at the bench until the sun's down and the workers at the udon shop start lighting lanterns. "We should head back to the guest house.", Yoriichi points out. He doesn't like being outside after dark. He didn't bring his sword since he didn't assume they would be out this late. (Y/n) nods and hops up from the bench. The walk back into the village becomes a real challenge for (y/n). With the sun down, the only light that lightens their path is the slim crescent moon. Due to his work, Yoriichi has no problem navigating in the dark, but (y/n) is unsteady in her steps and stumbles over every twig in her way. "I'm really sorry, Yoriichi. I must seem like a bull in a china shop to you.", she apologizes to him. "Don't worry about it. Let me help you. Here, take my hand.", Yoriichi offers. Hesitantly, (y/n) reaches out for his hand. It's warm but itchy and hard in hers. His sword training left him with plenty of callus on the inside of his hands. (Y/n) is still unsteady on her feet but Yoriichi calmly leads her down the path. (Y/n) is glad that she needs to focus on her steps and barely has any time to focus on Yoriichi's hands. Eventually, they make it back into the village where lanterns light their path. Nevertheless, Yoriichi doesn't let go of (y/n)'s hand. I wonder if he forgot, (y/n) thinks. It's not like she wants to let go. She likes holding hands with someone. She already dreads the day when (y/s/n) gets too old and doesn't want to hold hers anymore. She never thought she would anybody's hand again after that. She notices how the distance between her and Yoriichi gets thinner as they walk beside each other. Their arms brush against each other from time to time. (Y/n)'s heart starts to speed up and blood rushes into her face. Great, now I have to think about it, she thinks. I hope my hand isn't getting sweaty, she worries. Before (y/n) can worry any longer about sweaty palms, they arrive at the guest house.

Mrs. Nakamura greets them as they enter the house. "Ah, look who's back so late. Did you two have a great time?", she asks them. (Y/n) gives her a polite smile. "Yes, we were at the market.", she tells Mrs. Nakamura. "Ah, and did your lovely husband get you something nice?", she inquires. (Y/n) turns red a bit again. "Uhm... yes, he did.", she stutters. Mrs. Nakamura laughs wholeheartedly at that. "See, young man? I knew you got this.", she tells Yoriichi who embarrassedly rubs the back of his head. When they walk back to their room, (y/n) asks what Mrs. Nakamura was talking about. "Just a misunderstanding that came up when I asked for a second futon.", he tries to brush it off. "Oh, did she think we had a fight?", (y/n) asks dumbfounded. "Uhm, no that's not it...", Yoriichi replies. His discomfort grows with every word. (Y/n) broods on this while they enter their room. "Oh, I've got it. She thought I didn't want to have sex with you!", she announces proudly. Yoriichi looks at her flabbergasted. He definitely didn't expect (y/n) to be this blunt. (Y/n) bursts out laughing at the sight of Yoriichi's facial expression. "Am I right?", she says wiping a tear from the side of her face. All Yoriichi can do is nod. "That must've hit your ego hard.", she notes as she falls onto the futon. "Why that?", Yoriichi asks as he sits on his own futon cross-legged. (Y/n) props her head onto her arm. "Well, men tend to get offended when women tell them they don't want them in that way. And when other people get to know about that, men feel humiliated and get very angry.", she points out. "Did that happen to you before?", he asks her. "Just enough to make me marry a total stranger.", (y/n) shrugs. "Was it really that bad?", he wonders. (Y/n) sits up. "You're a kind man, Yoriichi. But not every man is like that. Some men think they have a right to take whatever they want.", she replies calmly. When she sees the worried wrinkles on Yoriichi's forehead, she quickly adds: "But it's stupid to try to get on with a woman who knows which plant can kill you slowly but painfully." Yoriichi rises his eyebrow in suspicion. "Not like I've ever killed anybody. I don't have it in me, really!", she quickly defends herself. Yoriichi chuckles at that. "No, you don't.", he concludes.

"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?", (y/n) pouts. Yoriichi has to chuckle again. "You're too nice for that. Also, I doubt you can take down a man as tall as me.", he points out. "Hey!", (y/n) exclaims, "Is that a challenge? Cause I'll fight you". She quickly stands up and takes on a fighting stance. Yoriichi has to suppress a grin. With that stance, she's knocked off her feet in seconds, he thinks to himself. "I'm not going to fight you.", he notes. "Why?", (y/n) flashes him a grin, "You think you'll lose?" This time Yoriichi bursts out laughing. (Y/n) never heard him laughing that honestly. It's infectious, she thinks. "I don't want to sound too presumptuously, but I'm pretty sure your chances are slim.", he teases her. "Oh, right, because you're the strongest demon slayer alive.", (y/n) says, "I'm not that strong.", Yoriichi says quietly. "Ah, but then you are scared to lose against a girl!" (y/n) mocks. Yoriichi slowly gets up. (Y/n) swallows. She didn't think he would actually take on the challenge. Maybe she teased him too much. Or he felt comfortable enough to boast a little. With Yoriichi's neutral face, there is no way to tell. "You sure about this?", Yoriichi asks. No going back now, (y/n) thinks. "Absolutely.", she says trying to sound confident. What happens next, is a mystery to (y/n). Suddenly, she's laying on her back with Yoriichi standing above her. Damn him, I'm not going down without a fight, she thinks. Quickly, she pushes her legs together in between which Yoriichi stands. Not having expected (y/n)'s move, she manages to destabilize Yoriichi's stance. Having nothing to hold onto, Yoriichi falls forward but manages to soften the blow by falling onto his elbows.

When he opens his eyes again he's confronted with (y/n)'s surprised face. Only then, he notices the position they are in. (Y/n) is under him and at least half of his body is pressed up to hers. Their faces are only centimeters apart. He could count the freckles on her face if he wanted to. He notices how he slightly dips forward. His long hair tickles the side of her face. She blinks and just like that the moment's over. Yoriichi breaks eye contact and quickly removes himself from her. Carefully, (y/n) sits up. "Oh my," she chuckles uncertainly, "There's a lot of falling today. I'm sorry I'm so clumsy." Yoriichi catches his breath. "Yeah, I guess that's enough falling for today. Let's go to bed.", he replies. (Y/n) sighs relieved. "Yes! Totally! I go to the bathroom and change real quick.", she says and quickly hurries out of the door. Yoriichi leans against the wall, trying to calm his heartbeat. No more fighting, he decides for himself. He's not sure he would survive another moment like this.

[carleycore]

𝜗𝜚 just saw Jake’s new youtube video where he bought Tara a car and wanted to write this 🫶🏾

You never expected a day like today. Walking out of your apartment, you see Yoichi Isagi standing beside a sleek, shiny car that looks like it belongs in a magazine. His trademark smile stretches across his face, but today it seems a bit wider, a bit more excited.

"Surprise!" he exclaims, motioning toward the car. "It's for you."

Your eyes widen, and you can't help but gasp. "Yoichi, you didn't... This is too much!"

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You've always been there for me, Y/N. I wanted to do something special for you. Consider it a thank you for all your support and friendship."

The car gleams under the sun, its luxurious curves and pristine finish making it impossible to look away. You take a step closer, running your fingers along the smooth surface. It's a top-of-the-line model, something you never imagined owning.

"Yoichi, I don't know what to say. This is incredible."

He steps closer, his expression turning sincere. "You deserve it. You've always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. You pushed me to be better, to never give up. This is my way of showing how much you mean to me."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look at him. "Thank you, Yoichi. This means the world to me."

He hands you the keys, the weight of them feeling surreal in your palm. "Come on, let's take it for a spin. I want to see that smile when you're driving it."

You nod, unable to contain your excitement. Sliding into the driver's seat, the interior is as impressive as the exterior. Yoichi hops into the passenger seat, and you start the engine. The powerful purr fills the air, sending a thrill through you.

“If you don’t like the interior i’ll pay for you to get a different color”

“What’s not to like?” You replied, still not over the fact that your best friend just bought you a car

As you drive through the city streets, the wind in your hair and Yoichi by your side, you can't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Your best friend went above and beyond to make you feel special, and you know that no matter what, you'll always have each other's backs.

You think back to when you first met Yoichi. It was years ago when he was just starting to play soccer seriously. You were there at his first match, cheering him on from the sidelines. Your friendship blossomed quickly; you became his confidant, his biggest supporter. Every victory, every defeat, you were there, encouraging him, believing in him when he struggled to believe in himself.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" you ask, glancing at him with a smile.

He nods, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "Of course. You were the only one who believed I could make it to the top. You were always there, every step of the way."

You laugh softly. "And you proved everyone wrong. Look at you now, Yoichi. You're incredible."

His gaze softens as he looks at you. "I couldn't have done it without you, Y/N. You've always been my rock."

There's a moment of silence, the air between you charged with unspoken feelings. You've always had a special bond with Yoichi, something deeper than friendship, but neither of you has ever crossed that line. Yet, the way he looks at you now, with such intensity, makes your heart race.

"Yoichi..." you start, but he interrupts gently.

"Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to tell you," he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "You've always been more than just a friend to me. You've been my inspiration, my support, my everything."

Your breath catches as he reaches out, taking your hand in his. "Yoichi, I..."

He squeezes your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't want to lose what we have, but I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way. I care about you, Y/N. More than just a friend."

You feel your heart swell with emotion, tears threatening to spill. "I care about you too, Yoichi. So much."

He leans in closer, his face inches from yours. "Then let's see where this goes. Together."

As you sit there, in the luxury car he bought for you, you realize that this moment is just the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship. With Yoichi by your side, anything is possible. You lean in, closing the distance between you, and for the first time, you kiss, sealing a promise of something beautiful and new.

"Thank you, Yoichi," you whisper against his lips. "For everything."

He smiles, his eyes shining with happiness. "Anytime, Y/N. Here's to us, and to the journey ahead."

I MEAN HE BOUGHT HER A WHOLE GWAGON WITH PINK SEATS NEED OMG

[thranduilsperkybutt]

☾ the gold & the rust ☼

Pic Sources: 1 | 2 | 3

Pairings:  Astarion Ancunín/Tav!Reader Warnings:  NSFW; angst/comfort smut; yearning; Astarion is not ascended; mentions of past canon-typical trauma/abuse; the struggle of healing; Astarion has racing thoughts and you can't tell me otherwise; canon-typical biting; it's not about the sex it's about the feelings; spoilers for the endgame Word Count:  7,168 words Reader Gender:  Female Author:  Meg Summary:  You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again... A/N:  Look I blame Hozier for making too many Astarion-coded songs that make me sob my eyes out while thinking about the implications of his "good" ending. Astarion has literally changed my brain chemistry.

The sun cusps over the horizon, its soft tendrils spreading over a murky sky. Beckoning the night’s fleeing retreat with a gentle violence as the day demands more territory in each passing second. Sparse hues of blue manage to cling to some lingering clouds that have yet to meet the threateningly beautiful pink and orange sky.

Astarion reaches out from behind the heavy curtain and his darkness, towards the pillar of light that breaks into the privacy of your bedchamber. Pale fingertips dip hesitantly into the light, as if he could believe everything that has occurred over this past week has been only a dream. It takes but a moment for the evidence of his reality to meet him when his skin sparks and dusts under the light of day.

He flinches back, hissing lowly from the burning pain of it. Glaring down at his flexing hand as if the disdain in his eyes could change the fates that have turned the thread of his life into this ever-knotted thing. He’d never imagined he would miss having that damned illithid parasite in his head, yet here he was. Yearning to reach for morning again. Wishing to experience a dawn that may never welcome him again.

He hears the stirring moan, soft and drenched in exhaustion, and dares a glance away from his own skin and stinging regret. Stilling entirely, Astarion hopes he has not awoken you just yet. He does not wish for you to see him like this, in this state of self-pitiful detestation. Though he knows you may yet love him despite having seen it, showing the reality of his mind beyond his comfortable performances is easier said than done. Tension drips from his shoulders, if only a little bit, as he watches your body relax into the cushions with your blissfully ignorant slumber.

The sigh at his lips is shaky. Mournful. He looks back towards the sunlight and remembers how it had felt when it had forgotten how to punish him like this. He doesn’t know which is crueler: to have never felt it at all, or for it to be ripped away from him like this. In the brief time he was granted to finally walk in the sun again after the past two centuries, Astarion can’t help the fresh anger that bubbles up in him at the taking away of it. He didn’t deserve this--- any of it.

Truthfully, he has no clear memory of how the sun had felt to him when he was simply a mortal elf and not a spawn belonging to a master. It had been so long ago; memories fade over time when drenched in horror, he’s discovered well since. Still, something tells Astarion he loved the day even then as he did now. He’s certain he had always loved the heat of it--- the color.

The way it filters through your hair when you stand in the path of daylight, kissing the edges of your skin in a way he forever wished to share with it. It had been warmer and kinder to him than he had ever expected to receive, somewhat like you. You were undeniably beautiful in the light of day.

Even standing within the finality of the sunset of your journey together--- foes vanquished, coated in sweat and victory--- he had thought the same.

But nothing good ever lasts, he’s learned. At least, nothing but you. Astarion wonders if he would still grieve this much if he were to never have known the day at all. Would he know what he was missing? Would a piece of its cosmic heat have whispered of you to him, even then?

He can’t truly comprehend a world in which his fate had not become so intimately entangled with yours. Perhaps that is the worst part, how he knows he would always brave this feeling of loss to gain what he has with you. In the end of it all, he knows he has made the right choice to have this over the temptations of that infernal ritual’s power.

Despite that knowledge, Astarion truly hadn’t expected you to run after him when the lingering illithid protections dissipated from his being and the sun began its remorseless burning again. He had scampered away from the docks in an abject desperation, attempting to flee from the light’s betrayal. Astarion was the objectively faster party, but you had found him eventually--- you always seem to find him--- after he had taken to cowering behind wooden crates that cast a meager shadow of solace. He had been shaking, cradling himself, closed off entirely from the world as that sickeningly familiar taste of how things had been before--- back when he was still Cazador’s--- came flooding back onto his palate. His mind had become drenched in a fear he had thought could never claim him again.

You’d cut through all of it with your worried call of his name. Plunging him into the magical darkness you cast upon the both of you to shield him from the sun’s assault with such a thoroughness that not even you could see through it. His call of your own name sounded far too broken on his tongue for his own liking, but you’d followed the sound towards his outstretched arms all the same.

Dragging him up into yours, only a sliver of the calamity in his soul dissipated when you promised him blindly, “Come, quickly, I’ll get you someplace safe.”

Despite his better efforts, his voice shook as he allowed you to clumsily drape your cloak over his curls in darkness, unable to bring the deflecting humor to his voice that he so achingly wished would return, “Darling, you are a sight for sore eyes; or, you would be, I’m sure, if I could see you.”

“I told you this would come in handy,” you shot back, and he had been grateful for your effort at ignoring the bittersweet grief that so clearly drenched his soul in favor of reminding him of how he had teased you for spending a good amount of your gold on this very cloak when you’d all first arrived in the city.

His breath remained shallow, but his hand tightened over yours in what he hoped you knew was gratefulness when you finished ensuring the fabric had covered any of his exposed skin, “I shall never question any of your purchases again, on my honour.”

“Of course you will, Astarion,” he heard the slight worry in your voice as much as you tried to hide it. He felt the spell waning and with it the returning disorientation that even slight sunlight left him in. You had grasped his arm firmly and spoken with a confident determination that he suspected was as much for your comfort as it was for his, “Now, get ready to move quickly and keep your head down; the dark won’t last much longer.”

You were good for your promises, he’d learned over his time travelling with you, and that had brought some small comfort as the day reemerged before he’d had a chance to respond. Then, you were maneuvering him through the city, towards the darkness of Sharess’ Caress, with such a precision that he might think it more important than any quest you’ve had thus far if he hadn’t known better. Gripping him tightly the whole way, Astarion still has not dared tell you how grateful he was for it--- for you, surprising him against his better judgement every time with how you simply are.

It has been nearly a week now of you coming to his side in the night and yet some part of him still expected the other metaphorical shoe to drop. For you to come to your senses and tell him that you simply cannot carry on like this with him.

He wanted to believe you. Gods, how he wants it. Yet, he still felt like a fool to think he’s earned some love such as yours. He wants to believe he deserves the way you look at him like he can be what you see him to be. It’s too dangerous for his heart to invest in the thought that he maybe can. That maybe he is, already.

For you to look at him and tell him, “We’ll find it together. I promise we’ll find a way for you to walk in the sun again,” with such determination--- for you to be someone who genuinely believed the both of you could achieve it---

Well, you simply must be mad. He doesn’t know how else to explain these little ideas of yours.

Astarion figures you’ll continue to be as much a surprise to him as you’ve made a habit of in the past… and then there was that persistently annoying optimism of yours to contend with.

But this?

He doesn’t think that you understand the truth of the choice you’re making, to stay with him. To love him. How could you know it and still look upon him with such eager hopefulness as you do? He barely understands it at all himself, and he’s had centuries to come to terms with what he’s become. Forgive him if it’s a bit difficult to begin to understand just what “being something better than what Cazador made him” truly means.

He understands how much he wants you, though. He wants it all. The life that was stolen from him, the opportunities, but mostly for you to be there--- here. Where you’ve not wavered an inch from his side; you’ve given him no reason to think you plan on leaving anytime soon.

Why does he still fear it so much, though?

Some part of him had thought--- hoped foolishly, rather--- that killing Cazador would somehow fix two centuries of torment. Fix him. In the brief time after, he discovered that it hadn’t. In his elongated struggle, he worries it never will.

Nightmares still plague him, he still jumps at shadows, he still has thoughtless fear dart through his mind before he remembers again that his former master is well and truly dead. That simply existing in happiness was the rebellious proof of his victory over a man who he hopes will not haunt him forever. When he is with you, Astarion almost believes that Cazador won’t. It is some charm you have bewitched over him surely. Your ability to calm this chaos in him with soft eyes and patient hands that do not seek to own him, yet he eagerly chooses to belong there all the same.

Astarion still has trouble loving you like he knows you deserve to be loved. There are times when he can barely stand physical touch, though craves to want yours. And you understand the duality of the contradiction in him, taking only ever what he is willing to give.

Sometimes he thinks you too understanding, with little concern of how this affects you. He’s always baffled by how selfless you can be sometimes, particularly when you’re taking in strays. He has come to admit, if only to himself, that he does see the irony in his complaints. Moreso, he’s terrified of what will happen when that seemingly endless well of care you hold within you for others inevitably runs out.

What will happen when you can no longer bear his eccentricities? The compromises? The sacrifice that his double-edged love requires of you? Will there come a time when all he offers as part of being in this real love becomes too overwhelming?

Astarion had fallen in love with you in the easy warmth of sunlight. Looking upon you now as the dawn creeps against your sleeping form, his heart aches as he wonders if he can truly doom you to a life in his complicated darkness.

Selfishly, one thought consumes his mind--- he knows he wants to. He would want you, no matter the cost to you both. You have told him over and over again how you want the same but, Gods, he can’t figure out what he has done for this sliver of joy and it eats away at him in the dark. It’s unreasonable what he asks you to give him, but he’ll take it all the same. Bitterly he thinks, if he were a better man--- the man you see him to be--- he might even feel guilty for it.

For now, all he feels is the monstrous need to escape these racing thoughts in his head.

When will you walk away to join the sunlight for good? Hells forbid the answer his weary heart is preparing for ever be spoken from your lips.

Astarion hopes the day never comes when you choose to go where he cannot follow. He wants to spend all his days traipsing after you, wherever you may lead, no matter how much he may complain about it for show.

Astarion wants to spend all of it, whatever it may be, whatever he’s got left, with you. He’s terrified of the day that you change your mind on him. Fearful that you may one day decide these sleepless nights with a vampire spawn who can offer you nothing more than his undying love and sarcastic quips are nothing compared to the full life you could have with someone else. This theoretical, easy life in the sun that he dares to think he is stealing from you by loving you as he does.

Well, he supposes that reclaiming Cazador’s palace is always an option, rather than his other fantasy of burning it to the ground. Spending an eternity draping you in finery and keeping you to himself within a palace feels like something he should want, but he can’t help to think that it would be no better than making his love for you into a somewhat prettier cage.

More than he wants you, he needs you to freely want him. He’d be tempted to take up praying again if he had any faith that it could solidify your love for him forever, but deep down he doesn’t want heavenly intervention. He wants you to want to be with him--- to choose him willingly and without any regret for what the inevitable sacrifice will be. That understanding is, perhaps, what makes his heart swell with this bittersweet glory over all else.

You’ve told him as much and what your lips did not confess to him willingly, your body has whispered to his with an adoration that threatened to scorch him in much the same way of your beloved daylight. You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again--- this being the most horrible realization of all to have come to him tonight.

Hells, how desperately he wants to believe you, but Astarion has always had difficulty getting his hopes up. He hasn’t been known to bet on losing dogs, and he certainly doesn’t bet on his own odds these days.

But he figures you have more than enough hope for the both of you.

A minute smile quirks his troubled lips at that thought, watching your fingers twitch in your slumber. He shouldn’t doubt you as he does; you’ve given him everything. His freedom, his salvation--- even from himself, when he hadn’t known how much he needed it. Things he can never repay, and yet you’ve never asked him for a repayment. He owes you everything, but you’ve been adamant in tempering his sense of obligation. You’ve reminded him that everything he's done, he’s chosen for himself.

You’ve only ever asked him to love you, and that you have had for far longer than you know--- far before you ever actually plucked up the adorable courage to ask him for it.

He has come to love you more than he’s ever loved anything for as far back as he can remember. The depths of his adoration could scare even him with the raw vulnerability he is left with when it comes to you. How beautifully all his plans and plots for self-preservation have backfired upon him, though. He would not have you destroy his peace of mind in any other way.

Maybe one day, he’ll admit to you exactly when his nice, simple plan truly began to fall apart. The idea dances in his mind, of how you’ll react to that particular information. You’d hang on his every word, he thinks--- it would be rather pathetic of you, if he weren’t in much the same state.

Gripping the curtain, Astarion finally deems it time to push the budding light out of his darkness. If it is to be the only place he may have you for all of your days, he’ll make his darkness a sacred place. He decides he shall worship you in it--- all other gods have forsaken him already. Until the day his little hero saves him once again, he will indulge in this darkness with you.

The patriars nipping at your heels for guidance, the unwashed masses of the Gate clamoring for their glimpse of his hero, even your other traveling companions--- none of them shall invade upon this sanctuary.

He moves towards the bed, returning to you. Exhausted from a late day in the city and an even later night of enjoying his company, you’ve taken to claiming sleep when you can these days. The evidence of your labor rests in the dark circles under your eyes. He doesn’t think he could stop you from your philanthropic efforts assisting the city’s reconstruction even if he tried.

Still, right now, in these hours you are only his.

He dips his weight onto the bed and lays himself alongside you, pulling you tenderly against him as his lips graze your neck. Truly, he knows it is cruel to wake you, but he doesn’t know how he can manage to miss someone like this when you are right before him. It is as if his very soul yearns for you. He melts against the rhythmic flutter of your heart, and it sounds more like his home than the palace he has spent the last two hundred years in ever could.

Teeth graze against your carotid pulse, and you stir slightly. He hums into the soft warmth of your flesh, biting without intent to draw blood--- though the thought of it does cross his mind. He has never recovered from the taste of you. Cold fingers curl into your bare hip, dragging you slightly closer at the feeling of your waking movements.

Your pulse picks up against his lips. Astarion hears the patter of your heart in your ribs as his tongue drags up your throat towards your ear. Your breath hitches when his lips graze your jaw, but your eyes remain closed.

His lips twitch with mirth at your effort to have him do as he pleases.

“Quite the show, my little love, but I know you’re awake,” Astarion murmurs, slurred from the back of his throat like a man lost in thorough indulgence. Drunk with the scent of you on his skin, he leaves another faux bite on your jaw as you squirm beneath his assault.

“Shall you feed again, is that it?” yawning, your hand rubs at your eyes before you blink them open. When his hands run up your sides, your answering shiver reminds him of that first night he’d fed from you. Lit only by the campfire, you had allowed him to take too much before stopping him, even then.

He chuckles breathlessly, shifting the covers to invade your space more completely as you come back to your consciousness piece by piece, “As tempting as it is when you offer oh so nicely to be my treat, I hunger for something more satisfying this morn.”

“Ah,” you gasp from sleep-drenched shock, reacting on a delay as he brings his knee up to strategically push your legs open. Allowing you to feel the growing length of him through the thin linens between you, he levels you with his weight in a slow grind. Blinking up at him, your eyes focus in a darkness lit only by the dim glow of dawn beyond the curtains when he languidly rolls his hips against yours, “A-Astarion---!” He is watching you peculiarly, with a glint of some unreadable darkness in his eye that you can’t quite place. The breathless whimper at your lips sends that warmth of yours straight down his spine, “What’s gotten into you?”

He hasn’t had you since that night he had been so drenched with adoration that he’d taken you on his own grave and truly confessed how he loved you. Ever since then it had been battle and struggle, one after another, in your pursuit to stop the Absolute for good--- constantly ensnared in some new concern that stole any potential moment he could’ve used to steal you away from duty. After the final battle, Astarion had been so dejected by the return of his vampiric limitations, and you had been near constantly pulled away to assist the public---

There was the part of him that enjoyed indulging in the easy-going intimacy you offered him. The lack of pressure to perform was something he had not yet fully become accustomed to; a certain comfortability that has been cultivated between the two of you over the time you’ve been together. The sense of knowing that he is well and truly safe with you. Despite this understanding, he wished to freely want you in every way he was capable of.

And, oh, how he has come to want you over these last few days.

It was so mindlessly simple and immensely complex. He can barely put into words to describe the ways he wants this. Carnally, intimately, wholly, eternally--- nothing is a sufficient descriptor. Maybe in that vast library that your wizard, Gale, insists on boasting about showing him one of these days, Astarion will find an all-encompassing word for how he wants to have you forever.

As it stands currently, he settles on the comfortable seduction that has become second nature to him, “Actually, I was quite hoping to have gotten into you by now, lover.”

He’ll never get over how you melt for him; how you fall for every word. He watches the heat he stokes behind your eyes, the flex of your fingertips where they lay beside your head on the pillow.

Then, he descends upon you.

A practiced mouth parts yours as his cool hand takes the long route from your waist to your throat, indulging in the feeling of everything in-between. He sets your skin on edge in his wake, stirring a familiar feeling that he was entirely too good at urging from you to settle low in your stomach.

Gentle fingers find his hair and he feels the scrape of your nails against his scalp when he finally rests his hand on your throat to hook his thumb beneath your jaw, kissing you deeper. Passionately. As he always does, Astarion excels at unravelling you in every way, but you have no idea how much you manage to rebuild him with your every touch.

Your body welcomes him completely, urging him closer in ways he doubts you are consciously aware of. His hips rock into yours with each passing second that your heat spreads through him, feeling himself grow harder at your soft moans that meet his eager mouth. When you tug slightly at his hair, he lets a cautioning sound fall from his tongue onto yours, but you only nip defiant teeth at him in response.

And then he’s pushing your hands down, captured at the wrists by his. Pinning you to the pillows while he draws back just enough to catch the breath that is coming, labored, from the both of you.

“I’m sorr---” you begin, remorselessly.

“Telling a pretty lie won’t save you from me,” Astarion leans close once more, dragging his skin against your cheek as he kisses a trail towards your ear, feeling you test his grip at your wrists with a half-hearted tug. “I do believe all of this ‘Hero of Baldur’s Gate’ business has kept you from the more important happenings of our bedchamber. It would be a terrible pity if you continued to neglect your baser desires when I am in such a mood to indulge you.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about me?” you tease and he feigns a mild shock at the insinuation that his own behavior is the reason you’ve yet to bed him.

“I’ll have you know I am all indulgence, unlike you, darling hero,” but when he leans away, your eyes capture his. Reading him too easily, you know something is wrong as his carefully constructed mask falters, if only for an instant. It’s all you need, and Astarion regrets losing himself for the moment as he watches your softening gaze survey him.

“Is that so…?” You’re left guessing at what troubles him, “If you missed me, you could’ve just said so. The city can survive a few days.”

“Does the city know that?” it would be so easy to leave it there, to let you think you’ve figured him out once again. The anxiety in his veins won’t allow it, however, and his mouth speaks before his mind can instruct him to shut up, “Tell me, darling, that you won’t regret it someday… Of course, you won’t--- but I would like to hear it all the same.”

He looks down on you with growing vulnerability, confidence cracking. That detestable anxiety that has plagued him all evening coming to the forefront of his mind once more. Crimson irises swirl with a reckless uncertainty and it reminds you of how he had looked upon you when confessing his initial manipulations in those early days of your relationship.

“Regret what?” the confusion on your face nearly has him losing his nerve, but he chokes back the urge to dismiss you so quickly.

“I don’t want you to regret… choosing me,” his voice is clearly pained at the thought, cold hands at your wrists tightening like he is afraid you will run from him should he let you go. “Choosing us, I mean. I am well aware of all you shall endure if you spend each painstaking night of forever with me. It is a price I was willing to pay for my freedom, but you… I--- I know you have said that I am what you want, but I don’t want this to be one of your regrets. I don’t want you to resent me for keeping you here---”

Astarion was constantly preparing himself for the ending of all things; it is a part of his nature that you wish you could soothe with simple words alone. It will be much more difficult to satisfy than that and you know it, but you intend to spend all your years working towards earning his unwavering faith in you. This trust that he has so endearingly placed upon your soul, when every piece of his own screamed at you for doing the same. You doubt he knows how, if you were to someday break him in the way he so fears, you feel it would be as if you were destroying a part of yourself.

You cut off his rambling with a firm, “Astarion!” like it hurts you to hear him talk of himself in this way. His mouth snaps shut as you search him for the cause of this doubt, “Have I done something to make you think I will have these regrets you worry of?”

“Well, no, but---”

When you pull at his grip this time, he wordlessly releases you, only for you to reach up to him to drag him down into a tight embrace, “Then, why is your heart so troubled?”

“I---” he chokes on the word and how shallowly his lungs fill with you holding him so securely in your arms. Maybe it is better that you hold him so closely that you cannot see how he crumbles against you, dissolving into your grasp as if you are the only thing holding him together when he confesses, “I know what it is to live this life of darkness. You are so---! You deserve everything I can’t give you, starting with a life surrounded by the beauties of daylight.” His head turns, misty eyes catching your worried stare. He regrets the distress he’s caused you, but moreso he needs to hear your reassurances that his mind has gotten the better of him in this. He has never hoped so pitifully that he was wrong.

“Astarion,” heart swelling at the loss in his eyes; he looks to be mourning for you. As your thumb smoothes along the lines of his jaw, you come to realize the depth of his lingering sadness, “tell me, what good is the sun? The sun cannot care for me as you do or feel my love in return. A life of pure sunlight is worthless if it means living it without you.” You watch his breath catch in his chest, a stifled sob of his relief that he does not give into so easily.

His voice comes strained and nearly sounds like he’s on the verge of arguing with you, “You so obviously will miss it! You talk of finding a way for me to ‘walk in the sun again,’ but what if it’s impossible? What if we waste our lives searching for something that was never attainable? When you realize it, I wouldn’t have you look differently upon me.”

“Is that it? You think I talk about finding you a cure for my own benefit?” you scoff, before leaning towards him to place a soft kiss against frowning lips. He lingers in the middle ground as you depart just enough to demand he listen, “I only think of you, Astarion. Since the moment I first saw you, you’ve consumed my mind, body and soul. The sun was made for you--- and you’d know it if you ever had the privilege of seeing yourself in it. I only want for you to be happy.”

The arch of his brow tells you he still doesn’t fully believe you, despite his attempt at a half-hearted joke through the tightness in his throat, “I do quite enjoy when you call me beautiful.” It’s more than that, and you both know it, but if he were to ask you right now to name one thing about the light of day that you know you will sorely miss, it would be never seeing him in it again.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh at him with a lopsided smile, “Oh, my silly vampire, I love you much more than the sun. Without you, I would not want any of it. In fact, you can take the moon and stars, too, while you’re at it---”

He cuts you off with the eclipse of his mouth on yours, hands spread along your ribs to dig eager fingertips into your skin as he pulls you in as close as he can manage. The kiss is more languidly meaningful than the last; he intends on burning the feeling of you into his mind to replace the torrid thoughts there. If your words had not been enough to convince him, you hope the way you receive his body with your own can. Every part of you calls to him, blood and sinew, breath and bone, flesh and spirit.

Maybe it’s clear to him now, that you are as intertwined as the earth and sea. Should the tide of your soul ever depart from his shores, he can rest in the knowledge that your reunion is inevitable. As far as you are concerned, you are fated in such a way that not even the gods above or the devils below can alter the course of how your body fits beneath his--- how you shall always welcome him home.

You will have him, for as long as he will have you.

When he finally withdraws, he dares not go far, eyes blinking open slowly in a melancholy acceptance, “How can I be so fortunate?”

Brushing the mess of white curls behind his pointed ear, you hum at the shiver that runs through him when your fingertips graze the skin there, “I don’t know, but it’s about time things start going our way, don’t you think?”

“That it is,” his groaned agreement softens the worry in his eyes and he melts into the stroke of your hand against his temple.

“What you should be worrying about, Astarion, is whether you’ll regret choosing me when I’m all old, wrinkled, and grey,” it’s only half of a tease, and you hope he can’t see through the smile on your lips. The thought has been on your mind for some time after realizing that the two of you were going to somehow survive everything you’ve endured these past months.

“Darling,” he scoffs, nudging his nose with yours, soothing you as much as you do him, “knowing how well trouble finds you, we’ll both be long dead before either of us need worry much about that.” His lips graze yours, when he gives you his earnest answer, “For our sake, I hope to spend every moment we have left with you, watching every sunset and sunrise we are granted until the end takes us both.”

It's more complicated than that, but most real things usually are.

What isn’t complicated is how you feel beneath him, tongue tracing his teeth as he ravishes you. There is a completeness that comes in the way of his body fitting against yours. This reassurance in your touch will never falter. Even if your mind were to eventually escape you, he will know you were always his. If the world were to fall away in this moment and leave nothing but this room, Astarion would happily float out his days with you here forevermore.

He loves you. You love him.

He can scarcely comprehend anything else. Nothing else matters, he decides.

Nothing but your little shivers and whines when his fingers delve down the soft flesh of your stomach--- nothing but the arch of your body into the exploration of his touch. Nothing is worth more than his name whispered from your lips in that scandalous tone you reserve for these moments he sets your skin ablaze with teeth and tongue. You call to him like it were a prayer, but Astarion has hardly done anything so holy to warrant the way you say his name.

His sole inkling of faith is spent on the belief that he could live his whole life, his extended eternity, and never tire of loving you.

Soft and demanding partner within the thrill of his touch, you’ve learned, and his hands part you for him with that comforting understanding. Insistent and hesitant are your finger’s answer to him, digging into the nape of his neck as your head falls back against the pillows. Throat bared, it’s a wonder he doesn’t take another bite of you where he’s done so frequently before, but his attention is too acutely focused on the aching wetness between your thighs and his slender fingers.

Your lips part in an open moan of his name with how expertly he drags pleasure through your veins with each stroke within you, and he drags his teeth against your jaw in a growl, “You sweet, generous thing, always so ready for me.” Finally, he grants you some relief from his constant teasing, pressing the heel of his palm into your most sensitive nub. He allows you to seek your own pleasure with each desperate grind of yourself against the hand that continues to stroke pleasure from within, “Do you have any idea what the sight of you does to me? How dearly I long for us to never leave this bed?” The rasp of his voice has heat rushing up your spine, muddying your thoughts with each continuance of his lascivious tongue, “Leave the Gate to fend for itself, my dear, for I should have you like this always, stripped bare with me between your thighs.”

“Have me then, Astarion,” you really did purr for him in times like these and as much as he enjoys teasing you for it, he truly does relish the tone you get when he has drenched you in lust. His reaction at your words is groaned against your throat; he’s so near, but his hand retreats from you all the same. Never to neglect you for long, your lover is soon tearing at your smallclothes with an impatience that was not wholly unexpected from him.

He pushes his weight onto his forearm beside your head, using his other hand to tug at the laces of his loose breeches while glancing down between you. His eyes, rubies in the darkness, snap to yours and it is as if he has dipped you in firewine and struck a match. You burn for him, from the inside out and in such a way that you know he has thoroughly ruined you for anyone else. You are dripping with it, onto the sheets and the new press of his length against your core. His indulgent rub of himself through your folds is punctuated by him grinding into you, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling for but a moment.

Hair disheveled, you watch the beauty of him as he swallows deeply before capturing you in that piercing gaze once again, “I think I shall have you, now--- how did you just put it?” He crowds you with his arms, and your breath hitches at the feeling of him catching at your entrance when he murmurs lowly, deliberately, “Body and soul? Isn’t that right, my love?”

The way you drag him down into your kiss as he pushes into you is a messy, desperate thing, but it only seems to urge him on. You simply cannot seem to get close enough, though not for lack of trying, as he fills you gloriously. Astarion gasps into your mouth, staggering the push of his hips against yours, devouring you until he is left seated so deeply within you that you can hardly breathe. Then, hands around your thighs push your legs up, and he fits impossibly further.

You sob a moan against sharp fangs, deliriously full of him as he begins a slow fucking that is just enough to drive you into madness. Clambering for something to ground yourself, your nails dig into his back, scraping against the scars that remain there--- his hips snapping faster into you at the feeling of it.

He smears saliva across your jaw and down your throat, understanding your breathless, “Please, please,” for what it is. Permission.

Pain is so fleetingly brief that it may as well not exist at all, because when he bites down hard enough to draw blood from your skin, you are met so suddenly with a lightheaded ecstasy that is compounded by the pleasure he pulses through your body. Only the raw stretch of his every thrust keeps you from dissipating into delirium entirely. You are left keening beneath him as he dissolves into the taste of your blood, feeling his moans against your neck and the way his thrusts begin to match the drum of your heart in your ears. Astarion’s fingers drag in the space between, stopping only when he has found the base of his seat within you.

You feel your heart skip in your chest before he ceases the meal he’s made of you, licking your throat of the sloppy blood that threatens to yet spill. The iron of it meets the smell of sex in the air and he strokes his fingers against where he continuously plunges so deep within you; the wet sounds of your coupling may have been embarrassing if you weren’t so disoriented with the raw need of it. Your every nerve has fiercer concerns than your fickle dignity when he is working to make such a wonderful mess of you as this.

“Delicious,” Astarion groans into your shoulder, nipping and groaning against whatever he may get his mouth on as he feels your increasingly erratic clenching with his harshening pace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, feeling him reach to draw tight circles at your clit as his own pace begins to falter. Neither of you will make it much further through this. He is left stained, begging upon your skin, “Come with me--- Hells, darling--- I need you to---"

Finding a grip in his hair allows you to drag his head sharply back to force his open-mouthed gaze to cast upon you once more, desperate to see him as he falls apart with you.

The sight of him is nearly enough for you to lose what little sense you’ve held to; while his complexion has turned slightly rosy with the assistance of your fresh blood, he still looks upon you with a consuming hunger all the same, “I love you.”

“Gods---!” dark eyes slam shut as he gasps out your name before all control leaves him in the mindless oblivion that he drags you down into alongside him. Scorching pleasure burns from the inside out as he loses himself in the trembling heat of your rapture, dissolving into a wild and erratic pace that bursts sparks of euphoria behind your eyes.

You are both left in the sticky aftermath of it, heaving mingling breaths as tension melts into you from where he collapses and lingers atop you. You hold him, content to have his softening length seated within you for all eternity as you let him continue his mindless caressing of your skin.

He has said it before, but it will never be enough, so he says it again in the hoarse aftermath of your lovemaking, “I love you, darling. You have made me so… happy.” Should you ever forget it, he is prepared to remind you for the rest of your days, “Thank you.”

Your own repeated declaration is sighed with a contentment that you hope will last a moment longer as your fingers take to stroking through his hair when he lays his head against your chest. Can he hear it from there, you wonder, how your heart whispers only the sweetest of sentiments for him? You like to think he can.

“Astarion?” you finally croak after some time, and he hums soft acknowledgement without much movement. “We should watch the next one together.”

“The next what, my treasure?”

“The next sunrise.”

There is a smile in his voice when he murmurs, “Always.”

[kigozula]

As Long As We’re Together - Sokkla Saturdays 2024

Day 2

FF.net & AO3

Leaves were falling. Apples were tasting juicer. Spicy scents all around the air. Autumn arrived.

The Fire Nation was the "summer nation". But it still got colder in the winter season, and colorful in autumn. At this time of year the view from the palace was particularly nice.

"I'm telling you Azula, Dragon Town has the best pumpkins!" Sokka said enthusiastically.

"Oh really, and how often did you eat their pumpkins I wonder?" Azula asked skeptically.

Sokka blinked blankly, "Well, never!"

Azula rolled her eyes at that.

"But Mai told that Dragon Town grow the best ones. And my wife deserves the best of everything!" he said smiling.

Azula smiled warmly back at him, a hand on her growing belly. She reached the sixth month of her pregnancy. Their first child. If Sokka was already protective and loving towards Azula, it doubled after finding out about her pregnancy.

Right after she said she wanted pumpkins, Sokka jumped up and informed himself where the best pumpkins were found.

"So does our baby." Sokka leaned forward and caressed Azula's baby bump. Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek while doing so. Azula closed her eyes, enjoying his cuteness.

"Okay, you win Sokka. We are going to Dragon Twon.” she said.

Sokka looked questioningly at her.

"No, I won't have you travel such a long way in this state Azula. I promise I'll be quick. You will have the pumpkin this afternoon."

"I can travel Sokka. And it's not like we're away too long. It's a 40-minute drive from the city." she said.

"But..."

"Besides, I want to see the pumpkin patch. I want to spend the leisure time with you. It's not cold outside." she told him.

Sokka looked at her. Slowly his lips curved upwards, while he watched her small smile, the glowing beautiful eyes he got lost so long ago. He caved in. How would he say no to her.

The carriage ride wasn't bumpy. Which was a relief for both Azula and Sokka. More for him honestly, since he feared it wouldn't be good for Azula and the baby.

Reaching their destination, they fooled around while looking for the best pumpkin. Azula laughed a lot at her handsome husband. It ended with them buying five pumpkins.

The golden sun slowly set when they reached the palace. Sokka insisted to cook for Azula. She decided to make desert. They weren't the best cooks and had a palace cook. But it gave them joy to use the kitchen every now and then.

Pumpkin soup and pastry were on the table.

"You're getting better at this love." Azula said while drinking her soup.

"Well, I’m learning since our marriage." Sokka said proudly, "I’m curious about this pumpkin desert of yours. Never had one actually."

"Oh, I promise you are going to love it." she said.

After finishing their food, they sat comfortably on the couch to eat the desert. The pumpkin was cut in small pieces before cooked with brown sugar. Topped with tahini and walnuts after that.

Sokka intensely focused on the taste of it, making humming noises of satisfaction.

"Azula, how come I never ate this, it's sooooo sooooooo good!" he said while still chewing.

"How about you eat it slowly and enjoy the taste Sokka?"

"No no no, I can't, it's too good!" gobbling down the pumpkins.

"My mom used to make these. I always liked it. But somehow this year, I constantly thought of them. Well, about everything with pumpkins actually." she said.

Sokka smiled and sat next to her. He caressed the baby bump and kissed her head.

"Might be our little one doubled your love for it." he said.

"Might be." Azula said, putting her hands onto his over her belly.

"Are you tired love?" Sokka asked her gently.

"Just a little, it feels good like this right now."

They cuddled all through the evening, making jokes and having deep talks.

"I have a girl name in mind." Azula said suddenly.

"Let me guess: Nayla?" Sokka said.

Azula looked up to his face, "How did you know?"

Sokka looked smirking at her, "You once told me, that when you have a girl, Nayla is a name you liked."

Azula was surprised yet smiled at the memory.

"You really remember?" she asked.

"Of course I do Azula! I remember everything you said to me love." he said pecking her lips.

"And? How do you like the name?"

"What is the meaning?"

"The one who reaches her goals."

"Well, I like both the sound of it and the meaning. Nayla." he said as if trying how it sounds.

"I am fearing of asking but doing it anyway: do you have names in mind. Especially a boy name."

Sokka chuckled at her reaction.

"I don't know honestly. I had already Nayla in mind since the pregnancy. I thought we would find one together in case it's a boy."

"Wait! You already accepted Nayla?"

"Yes I did." he replied.

Azula got tears in her eyes.

"Azula? Hey now, what is it?" Sokka asked worriedly.

"Sometimes,... you just... I ..." she couldn't speak so she just pressed her face into the crook of his neck and held his shirt with her hands.

Sokka hugged her tightly, caressing her hair, "You don't have to cry love." he said into her hair.

"I love you so much, never leave me Sokka. Never ever okay?" Azula said in between tears.

Sokka pulled away, hoping to hold himself together. He brushed away her tears.

"Never. As long as I can breathe, I am always here with you. I love you." he said honestly.

Azula laughed now.

"Come here." Sokka said and pulled her back on his chest.

They cuddled in the presence of candlelight, and the moon outside.

[strawberryspence]

happy birthday @henderdads! this one's for you my beautiful friend! i am extremely glad you were born! 🍰🥂🥳

-

Truthfully, Steve didn't think he'd live past nineteen. He remembers not wanting to get past twenty.

After everything. After having fought and surviving five silent wars, after studying and graduating, after teaching for years, after being a father, a son, a brother and a friend.

After everything. After Steve lived his life the best he could, he settles down.

He settles down in a field, just outside the outskirts of his childhood hometown. It's a small cottage, a few miles away from Hopper's old cabin. It's usually empty now, but it's there when the gremlins want a vacation. When they just want to unplug and find peace.

Somewhere, a few miles down from Steve's, is a tiny hidden house. Its hidden by shades of trees and vines of flowers. Behind it, is Robin and Nancy's cottage. At first, Nancy wasn't really sure about the idea of living in the middle of the forest. But no one— not even her wife— could stop Robin from following Steve to the ends of this world. Now, they live there most of the year, and half they spend in the city.

There's a soft breeze on his face as Steve slowly braids a flower into a crown with shaky hands. It's from the old age, he thinks. But if Robin was here, she would say it's from all the fights. It's muscle memory, as he weaves through the crown. He must've made hundreds of them when Aurora and Arwen was growing up.

Steve's two little princesses. Not that they're little anymore. His little girls are now women. Running about around the country, doing their own things, leaving their marks in this world.

When he finally locks the last end of the stem from the other part, he sighs with relief. The weather is nice. The sun directly hitting him on his face, the wind cascading and making the trees shake. The sound of it so relaxing, his eyes flutter shut. Steve lays his back on the picnic blanket, he knows he'll regret it later, but what the hell?

He thinks about the life he has lived and the life he is still living. Seventeen year old Steve Harrington didn't even think he would reach this age, didn't think he'd ever be this happy. But here he is. Comfortable in his wrinkly skin, happy.

There's leaves crunching as he hears the soft footsteps of someone walking to him.

"Sweetheart."

Steve peeps an eye open, and at first he doesn't see anything but the bright beam of the sun. But the figure moves, blocking the sun and everything in Steve's whole axis stops.

The figure smiles down at him. There's a few more wrinkles on his face when he smiles. The scar on his left cheek is barely even there anymore. His hair tucked into a small bun and when the wind blows, there's tiny wisps of hair that moves along. He's beautiful. He's always been beautiful. It's been more than forty years, and Eddie Munson still leaves him breathless.

There's rustling as Eddie kneels and sits beside him on the picnic blanket, "Sweetheart, I told you not to lay on the ground. Your back is going to hurt tonight. I swear to God if you say a damn word about it."

Steve snickers, holding out a hand so he can get some help to sit up. Eddie glares at him but takes it, helping him to sit up and sag against the trunk of the tree shading them.

"It's my birthday, Eds. I deserve the birthday massage."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, "The birthday massage I gave you this morning wasn't enough?"

Steve feels himself blush, nudging his elbow on Eddie, "Shut up."

Eddie laughs. Open, loud and free. Steve will never get tired of hearing it. He moves closer to kiss Steve's cheek, "I can't believe you still blush over the shit I say. We basically have nine nuggets together, that's more than you wanted."

Steve groans, "Will you ever let the Winnebago thing go?"

Eddie smirks at him, bopping his nose with his finger, "Never."

Steve rolls his eyes, but moves closer to deposit the flower crown he made on Eddie's head. The colorful flowers brighten up his whole face, making him look like an actual prince.

"My prince." Steve whispers as he kisses Eddie. It's a chaste kiss. Soft, wonderful, familiar; his husband's lips.

Steve has lived a life with his husband. It's not really Steve who wanted to settle down and retire in the cottage in the first place. It was Eddie.

When he finally got tired of the glitz and glam of Hollywood. Eddie wanted to run away, to somewhere quiet, to some place they could call their home. Steve found this little cottage for the two of them, because he wants to give Eddie everything. But most of all he wants to give him peace. He still writes a few songs. Because he's the most passionate about that. He usually sells it to some newer, younger singer.

"You want to blow your cake?" Eddie asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. Steve didn't even notice that Eddie was holding a small box.

"You know Dustin will be mad if he finds out, right?" Steve asks, as Eddie pulls out the cake from the box. He helps him though, as Eddie sticks a few candles on the homemade cake.

"Eh. What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Eddie winks at him from behind his glasses. He flickers the lighter open and lights the candles.

The wind gives them mercy for a tiny while. The candle fire sway with the wind but doesn't die.

"Come on, big boy. Make a wish."

Steve watches as Eddie holds up the cake in front of him. There's a message on it, written in messy cursive writing. It says, "Happy 60th Birthday, Steve!"

Steve has spent so many birthdays, waking up to this exact image. Eddie holding up a birthday cake and asking him to make a wish. And though, Eddie's older now, with a few more wrinkles and some white hairs, his eyes will always still be that same shade of brown, the same one Steve stared at and fell in love with as Eddie held a broken bottle against his neck. Steve swears he will never get tired of it.

Steve smiles and blows on his candles.

"What did you wish for, Stevie?" Eddie smiles at him, tender and fond and filled with love.

"If I say it, it won't come true." Steve answers, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"Fine."

From inside the cottage, they hear a familiar voice shouting, "Dad! Papa! I am here! I picked up Auntie Rob on the way over. Cause you know, she's always late."

Even from far away, they can hear the gasp of surprise Robin lets out. "Aurora Eunice Munson-Harrington! You really are your fathers daughter!"

There is a cacophony of laughter and giggling. It sounds just like home.

Eddie turns at him, standing up slowly as he offers his hand to Steve.

"Let's go?"

Steve takes it happily, "Let's go."

As he walks towards his home, he sighs in content.

Steve didn't wish for anything else, not when he has everything he has ever wanted. Instead, he whispers a soft gratitude to whatever Deity decided that he deserves this life.

Steve's just glad he decided to live past nineteen to see— to have— this life made just for him.

[idyllcy]

Had no chance against the Marxist girl with marijuana

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Cupid's arrow grazes Komaeda's arm a little too hard

The bow of Cupid is ruthless.

Komaeda presses his hand to his mouth as he watches you sit at the library table. His heart rams against his chest. He had just wanted to talk to you and catch your eye somehow. It was innocent, he swears. He didn't even think as far as you staring at him. You were gorgeous. Your lips. Your hair. Your face. It was like the greeks had sculpted you of marble and brought you to life like in the myth of Pygmalion. 

Komaeda stares back at you, lips parted in awe as you stare at him.

Ah. You were...dazzling.

You snap out of your trance, and Komaeda snaps out of his.

"Sorry," You laugh awkwardly at him. "I'll pack up."

"Thank you," He smiles, praying you don't notice the red burning at his neck and ears.

He steps away from you, trying to ignore the way your eyes burned into the back of his skull. His neck is warm with embarrassment. Ah, how could he stare at another student like that? He was probably older than you were. He fans his face as he watches you step out under the moon and grimaces. He couldn't do that. Not now. He couldn't afford to fall for someone like that. Feelings are foolish things. He can't believe he caught himself in a trap he set for someone else.

Komaeda picks up a couple of books, sending a glance your way. 

He's noticed a couple of your habits. For one, you have never bothered fixing your bed hair. You drink iced lattes, preferably with oat milk. You like picking at the skin on your nails. Sometimes you rip at it until it bleeds. He doesn't like it when you do that. Yet, he's not someone who knows you, so he doesn't step out of line. Ah, you also stick stickers onto your face when you grow disheartened. It's cute.

Komaeda slips a book back into the shelf, checking the cart to see if there are any books left for where you sit. He flips through the tablet in his arms, checking off which books are back on the shelf. He glances at the setting sun through the stained glass, the colors of pink and orange reflecting on his skin. He was glad. He looked healthier these days. It seemed like the trial medicine was working. His chemo was also barely forcing him to lose hair. It was nice, even though he misses being able to eat without throwing up.

He taps the final checkbox, turning to shoot you one last glance before pushing the cart away.

Komaeda counts the final books in his arms, and the sun's completely disappeared. The stars and moon are out, and he pauses at the time. It's almost closing. He has to make an announcement. 

"This is a reminder that the library closes in five minutes." His voice rings through the intercom, and people start filing out. He checks the security cameras while keeping an eye out on everyone. The faces are a blur to him. They don't seem that important, though he remembers some of the regulars. It isn't his first year here, after all. 

As the last person leaves, he wonders where you are. Did you lose track of time again? He made sure to announce that the library was closing. He waves to his coworkers as they file out and heads to where you're supposed to be. The rest of the library is empty, and it looks almost eerie. Gothic libraries never looked good when it was night. They look too creepy for Komaeda's liking, but he supposes it covers his face a little. He wouldn't want to scare you with how ugly he was.

He finds you resting right where he left you.

He steps to the side first, adjusting the clocks.

Stepping up to you, he shakes your shoulders.

"Hey, time to wake up." He places his hand on your shoulder gently, voice just as soft.

Komaeda takes a step back as you stir, and he reaches for your hair unconsciously as you sit up. You're still dazzling as ever. He wonders if he could ever amass the courage to actually talk to you. You scare him a little. You're so attractive; surely other people have their sights on you? You deserve someone who isn't him. After all, he is hideous.

You jump in your seat, and Komaeda jolts back.

"I'm so sorry!" Komaeda watches you bow a full ninety degrees to him, and he panics.

"No, no! Don't worry about it! You seemed tired, so I thought it'd be better to have you be the last one to leave." Komaeda waves his hand. "You still have two minutes."

"I'm so sorry again!" You cry, grabbing your stuff and waving goodbye to him.

His heart races in his chest, and he presses his face into his palms. Ah. He was hopeless.

The candle above the hallway flutters gently, and Komaeda reaches to put it out. Maybe one day you'd stay behind with him and help him close the library- ah, what kind of a thought was he having? There's no way someone who doesn't work for the library would do that. He's getting hopeless. How could he expect that of a stranger who wasn't even into him?

Komaeda sighs to himself as he puts the last candle out.

Ah, the clock. Komaeda almost forgot.

The arrows of Cupid resemble the strings of fate almost. There's red connecting his fingertip to somewhere, and his heart races, knowing that it might be you. He had always been a little bit of a romantic. Maybe his destined soulmate was you. He knew it wasn't, yet he prayed that somehow it would be. 'It would be romantic,' he thinks, to fall in love with someone who was nothing more than a blurry figure connected to his pinky. 

His cheeks warm at the thought.

A soulmate. How adorable.

Komaeda finds that his skin is growing healthier as the days pass. He's been exercising when Nekomaru requests to return to normal health. The bones under his skin are no longer visible. He takes that as an achievement. That meant he was growing healthier. That also meant that his lymphoma was slowly improving. Maybe he'll be able to drink sweeter teas once spring arrives. Perhaps he could take you out for tea? 

"Achoo!" He sneezes.

Maybe he should focus on getting the leaves out of the way on the pathway first. 

The green and red are raked into a pile, and Komaeda wonders if he'd be allowed to run and jump into it. Maybe he would. He is the one who has to rake all of it, and he's not bad at cleaning. He glances around, checking to see if there's anyone. There isn't. He's jumping. 

He lands on the leaves with a satisfying crunch, and he watches the leaves fly up from his jump. It's pretty. He feels like he's in a fairytale. It was like hd was the main character was dancing in the fields. Well, that's a bit of a stretch. Behind him, he hears a giggle, and he whips his neck. There's no one there, but he does hear the sound of hurried footsteps running away. He hopes that wasn't you. He doesn't know what he'd do if you saw him doing something so silly.

He steps out of the leaves, fixing it with an obvious blush on his face.

If someone looked closely, you could almost see the smoke coming from his ears.

Komaeda fans his face as he steps back into the library, sitting at the front desk to help a couple students. He wonders if working at the library is the best choice he has ever made. He didn't believe Ms. Yukizome when she had suggested for him to work at a library, but now he had met the love of his life. Well. He thinks you're the love of his life. Maybe Cupid had shot him right in the heart as he saw you. Or maybe he was Cupid. Perhaps falling for you was a mistake he made on accident. That makes a little more sense.

Komaeda shoots another superficial smile as someone steps to the side.

"Hello, how can I help-" His throat dries at the sight of you.

"Ah, sorry," You smile, and Komaeda can't help but pray that you're smiling because of him. "I was wondering, since you're the librarian, if you had any book recommendations? I wanted to read something like murder mystery."

"Well," Komaeda collects himself with a cough. "I'd recommend Conan Doyle or Agatha Christie. Have you read And then there were none?"

"Ah, no," You tap your chin. "Which area is that book in?"

"I'll go with you," Komaeda smiles.

"Thank you..." Komaeda notices the pause and squint at his nametag.

"Nagito," He smiles. "Please call me Nagito."

"Thank you, Nagito," Komaeda steps ahead, ears and neck burning. He's hopeless. He's so far down in love with someone he doesn't know the name of. He's gone insane. He can't think straight, nearly missing the section where the book was. He apologizes, reaching to grab the book for you.

"Is that one alright?"

"Yes."

He can't see your face, but he can hear something in your voice. Mirth, perhaps. 

He turns around, muscles tensing at the sight of you almost glued to his back. "Sorry!"

"No, no!" You gasp. "I'm sorry for being so close! I was looking at the other book."

You pull out a romance book from the shelf, and Komaeda flushes. 

"Are you more into slow burns?"

"I like both," Komaeda frowns as you avert your eyes. "Ah, speaking of which. Have you read Growing Pains? I heard it's really good."

Komaeda remembers that one. It was one of the first books he picked up when he entered college. It's still his favorite.

"I have," He smiles. "It's a really good book. Have you?"

"No," Komaeda notices you perk up. "Shall I read it?"

"Yes," Komaeda grabs for it, an action he's done thousands of times. He adored the book. He hopes you'll like it just as much as he does. "How about It's a soulmate thing? You're holding I'm here, so I assumed you might-"

"Yes, please," Komaeda stammers as you nearly moan. "I'm a sucker for soulmate stories."

"I'm glad," He smiles. "and... Seashells and Sketchbooks?"

"Mermaids!" You gasp, and Komaeda brightens at your tone. You're excited. He got a reaction like that out of you. Ah, was he in heaven? "Sorry, I've read that one. I loved it."

"It's good, isn't it? I love it too." He smiles, the pink on his cheeks.

"What's your favorite?" You peer at him curiously, and he swallows slowly. You have... pretty lashes.

"Growing Pains," He mumbles, looking to the side. "It took my heart and crushed it in the best way possible. I can't get over the ending. You?"

"Hands down, it's Sketchbook and Seashells," You mumble. "I'm Here is a close second. Both of them were so gentle and fluffy. I was living in a cloud while reading both of them."

"I'm willing to bet that you'll like Growing Pains more once you finish the book." Komaeda doesn't know where the confidence is stemming from to bet with you, but he doesn't complain. "Hm?"

"Sure," Komaeda's nearly blinded by your smile. You're so pretty. You're so dazzling. Oh, what would he do with his racing heart? "What does the winner get?"

Komaeda reaches for the book in your hand. "We'll decide after you read the book."

All the way until you leave, Komaeda's heart fights his chest. He prays that you can't hear it. He can play the blushing off as the weather, but he can't play off his racing chest as anything else. You're just too pretty. He wants to wrap his arms around you until you grow tired of him. He waves to you until you leave and falls to his knees behind the desk. You're so... so... pretty. He's going insane. His heart is going a million miles a minute. He was really in love with you. He had it so bad.

He waits for you to finish the book, praying that he won. He doesn't know what he would even ask you for if he wins but hopes you like the book an incredible lot... he may have neglected to tell you that the first handful of chapters are angst.

Hopefully the other two books mend your broken heart.

"You," Komaeda jumps at the sight of you slamming the books onto the counter. "I'm going to strangle you alive."

"I take that I won the bet, then?" Komaeda scans the books back into the library system.

"Yes." You sigh. "You won, but I want you to read Lonely Kids."

"Sure," Komaeda smiles. "So, since I won, I want you to read another handful of books."

"Oh?" You tilt your head. 

"Read Stay With Me, Hold my Hand," He smiles. "It's a series."

"Alright." You mumble. "I'll scalp you if it makes me cry."

"It might," He pauses. "It's by the same author as Growing Pains."

"I'm going to cry, then," Komaeda watches you grimace. "It's so beautifully destructive. I love the way they write. The whole world is built around you so beautifully only for it to be torn into shreds."

"Yeah," Nagito smiles. "Though, this one will make you cry harder."

"I'll read it over break," You sigh. "Thank you, by the way. And Then There Were None was a really good story."

"I'm glad." Komaeda hums. "Will you be working here again?"

"Yes," Komaeda watches you rush off.

He hopes you don't cry over "Stay with me, Hold my hand." The series had no redeeming fluff compared to the amount of angst it had. Maybe you'd cry to him about it. He wouldn't mind if you wrapped your pretty fingers around his neck and destroyed him. Maybe he'd thank you. It'd be like in the story. He always felt he kinned the second male lead more than he was supposed to. Second male lead? He's not sure. The series was announced to be discontinued. Maybe you'd bring a possible ending onto the table. 

Komaeda checks in the rest of the books. Maybe you'd talk to him about it.

Komaeda blinks as you hand him a cup of coffee.

"Don't ask. I guessed your order," You mumble quietly. "I just... thought you might want one. Midterms are around the corner."

"Thank... you," Komaeda smiles. His face is on fire. Please don't notice the blush on his face. He's going to cry over it. Just from the smell alone, he knows you got it right. It was the same tea his doctor had been prescribing him lately to keep a cough at bay. He actually likes the tea for one. You're a gift from heaven; he's sure of it. He's about to get on his knees and worship you. Or bark. Maybe you like dogs. He can play one perfectly; after all, it's not like he wasn't-

"Uh, do you like tea?"

"Yes!" Komaeda beams. He can't believe you want to get to know him. "I have a preference for tea that isn't bitter. I can't taste many things because of my medication, you see."

"Medication?" You tilt your head.

"I'm being treated for a couple illnesses." He hums. "Sorry."

"No! Don't be!" You gasp. "I wish you a speedy recovery. Please take care of yourself."

"Of course," He smiles. anything for you.

Komaeda finishes half of the tea before he musters up the courage to help you out. You look stressed. He had seen your textbook a few times and was sure that he absolutely despised the seminar you were taking. He thought it'd be nice, but he guessed not. It wasn't the most pleasant class he had ever attended. If he's right... he should still have the test somewhere in his google drive. Maybe you'd want that?

Komaeda taps your shoulder gently. "Would you like some help? I took that class already."

"Yes, please?" You stare up at him with doe eyes. "I'm losing my mind over the subject."

"Does giving you the test and correct answers count as helping?"

"Yeah," You stare at him, chin tilted to the ceiling. Komaeda's breath catches in his throat. You're pretty. You have lovely eyes. He could get lost in them for hours. "Do you have it?"

"I do," Komaeda smiles. He sits down across from you, pulling his laptop open. He looks through his files and sends the right one to you.

"What's your major?" Komaeda mumbles quietly.

"Designing my own," You whisper back. 

"You're in that college? I thought you'd be in the main one?"

"Easier chance getting into that one," You stare at him, the ghost of a smirk on your face. "I wanted to live here."

"I can see that," Komaeda mumbles back. Ah, were you toying with him? He'll let you do that. After all, you are his blessing. "You suit the city."

"Thank you," You mumble, and Komaeda watches your lashes flutter. You're tired. 

"Would you like to nap?" Komaeda smiles. "I can wake you up when the library closes again."

"Thank you," You mumble, resting your head in your arms. "I owe you."

"Don't be silly," He gets up, pulling his coat off his shoulders. "As a thank you for the tea."

The coat goes over your shoulder, and he goes back to work.

The dust on the books collects a little, and Komaeda cleans it. His heart is lighter today. You don't seem to hate him. That was lovely. You seem to like him. Platonically. He doesn't mind. He'd love it if you were to fall for him slowly. He prayed that Cupid would graze you with an arrow like he was grazed. Even if he were cursed to love you for eternity, he would gladly do so. 

The sun sets, though not visibly, and the clock strikes. It's time to close. Komaeda offers to stay back again, waving goodbye to his coworkers as they leave. If he was last, he'd be able to close up with you. The method might be a little underhanded, but you wouldn't mind, right?

"Closing time," He takes his jacket from your shoulders, and you stir. "We're the last ones."

"Alright," You mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Thank you. It was very warm."

"Of course," Komaeda tosses your empty cup into the trash and heads out. 

The moon kisses your face. Komaeda holds his breath as he notices and can't help but think that you're gorgeous. How lucky was he? To be able to see someone like you under the moon themselves. He swears he'll love you forever. Just as the moon chased the sun and the red on his pinky burned, he would chase after you. Nothing would tear him from you. Not even the cutting of the string.

Komaeda wraps the bandage around his finger. He hurt himself again. He should really stop. His scabs form slower than they're supposed to because of his treatment, yet he can't help it. The papers from the printer are sharp. It really wasn't his fault. Yet, he can't help but wonder if you'll ever treat him. Maybe he should get hurt on purpose just to see your reaction. Ah. No. How could he do that? What a strange thought.

He puts the bandage back, and he stares at his phone. He has his own midterms to worry over.

The tea is warm in his hand as he steps into the library. He didn't like studying at the one he worked at, but he wonders if he'll see you. Maybe he will. He doesn't know your schedule as well as he'd like to. He likes it better with you around. Maybe you'd be willing to read with him.

He finds you huddled on a couch with "Autumn Comes when you're not yet done" in your hands. He purses his lips at the look of betrayal on your face. Are you going to fight him again? Please no. 

He sits down a bit further from you, working on his own homework. He's a little tired from the shift yesterday. Though, you seem to be enjoying the book. You're expressive, so he supposes that you've liked it so far. If you hated it, you would've put it down. Maybe that was the art of the writer. The way you couldn't put down the book no matter how hard you tried. He remembers that feeling.

"I'm going to stab him later omfg," You mumble under your breath, and Komaeda jumps. Did he go too far? As you close the book and finish it with tears in his eyes, he wonders if he should get you something sweet to eat.

Komaeda wonders if you like him some days.

His heart rams against his chest whenever he's around you, and it's somehow gotten worse with time. Would you accept him if he were to ask you out? Maybe you'd recoil out of disgust and never visit the library ever again. He doesn't even know if you have a talent. He had just forgotten completely about it thanks to how gorgeous you looked when he first met you. 

It doesn't matter. His mind is screaming at him to think properly, but he doesn't care. He likes you a lot. He adores you. He wants to press his hands on your skin and kiss you. Ah. How vile of him. He couldn't think something like that. How foul of him.

When you step up to him with a cup of coffee after midterms, his heart catches in his throat as his head spins. You? Spend time with him? What city had to be hit by an asteroid for you to ask him that? Which one of his loved ones just passed because of your words? Oh, you shouldn't fill him up with such hope like this. 

He finds himself accepting anyways. His heart is caught in his throat, a million thoughts a minute. Why would you ask him? Was it something in the books? Did you not like them? No. There's no way that's the case. You showed no signs of disappointment as you asked him to coffee. Was this your way of thanking him? You weren't blushing or dying when you asked him either. How could he ever begin to figure you out? 

As the two of you sit in the coffee shop, he's far too busy with his own thoughts to read you. He prays you won't be able to read him.

Komaeda finds that one date turns into two, and two dates turn into four, by then which he stops counting.

He likes spending time with you. He likes the way his heart breaks his ribs to try and tell you how he feels. He enjoys sitting down and reading with you, again and again, time after time. Komaeda adores you to pieces. He could pick stars and the moon out of the sky if you willed. He would leave all his past behind just to run with him. Yet, he's lonely. He wonders if his younger self would cry at the sight of someone as gentle and loving as you.

It's spring when Komaeda's hair is blown back, and his face is back on display. He watches you stare at him in awe, heart breaking your ribs. He doesn't know that. He's convinced he just scared you off with how ugly he is. His hands move frantically to try and push his hair back in front of his face, and you stop him. Your hands slide up his forehead. You stare at him for a little longer, heart racing in your ears.

"You're pretty," To you, those words might've not meant much, but to Komaeda, he felt the entire foundation of his beliefs shaken. You were just that powerful to him.

Komaeda flushes impossibly redder, his entire body in flames. You hadn't even touched him intimately, and he was already a mess in your hands. He wondered what would happen if you were to touch him. Would he melt? You would probably run away in fear of him. Maybe you'd leave him because of how weak he was. He wouldn't be surprised if you did. He wasn't as strong as his classmates, and he seemed like nothing compared to the others in the school. 

"Nagito," You breathe, staring at the male. Komaeda can hear his heart dying in his chest.

"What?" He stares at you.

"I like you."

Komaeda goes silent, and for a moment, you worry that you've offended him.

Komaeda's throat dries. You like him? Pathetically, disgusting him? The vilest human he had ever seen? The only person to destroy everything around himself until there's nothing more than shards of what reality once was? Komaeda doesn't understand you. You're such a glowing person, yet you choose to help him out in times of need. You stare at him, and he can tell you're getting fidgety.

His mind spirals. You like him? There's no way. You can't like trash like him. He can't let himself have you. You deserve someone better. Yet, who was he to reject you and turn you down? You wanted him of all people. You wanted to get to know him. You like him. You have a crush on him. He's been dreaming of this moment for ages. Surely, it wouldn't be a bad idea to agree to it? His hands grip your shoulders unconsciously, and he heaves.

"Say it again," Komaeda swallows, heart ringing in his ears. "Please. Please say it again."

"I..." Komaeda watches your lips stay open and heart pulse on your neck. "like you. I like you a lot."

Komaeda's speechless. His heart rings in his head now, the blood gushing into his mind. You like him? You like him. Holy mother of mary. You like him. This must be the best day of his life. He must be dying tomorrow. You're in love with him too. He doesn't realize he's gone silent for too long until he notices you're not looking at him anymore. Ah. He scared you. 

His hands are taken off of you apprehensively, sliding to your neck and tilting your chin upward to face him. His breathing is erratic, desperate to not scare you off. You can probably feel his hands shaking against your skin. What should he say? How should he say it? That he's been in love with you for ages? That he wants to worship you until the fall of man? How could he ever begin to tell you how much he adored you?

"Look..." Komaeda swallows slowly, voice shaking. "look at... me."

You open an eye to stare at him. 

"I like you too," Komaeda's voice shakes bad. "I like you a lot too. I'm infatuated with you. It was as though Cupid had grazed my skin with an arrow the first time we met. I adore you to pieces. I can't... I can't think of living without you."

Komaeda watches your eyes widen as he continues rambling, the blush creeping up his neck and driving him insane.

"You like me too?" You grab his wrists, cutting him off. "You do? Oh, tell me you do."

"I do," Komaeda swallows slowly. "I do adore you so much, darling."

Komaeda panics as you start crying. With no thought in his mind, he pushes you into his chest, praying that a hug will offer you some sort of solace. You might be able to hear how bad his heart is beating for you. He hopes you won't mind. Maybe you'll find comfort in his arms like he found comfort in your presence. Would that be nice? It'd be sweet if that were to happen. It would make him most overjoyed.

And you stay there, and Komaeda prays that you'll stay there forever.

For some reason, he knows the answer.