#and it was loads of fun so I’m probably going to go again next week

[gatheryepens]

When you go to the library for a study session but end up doing a kickboxing class….

[always-just-red]

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Okay.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Okay but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?  

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.  

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”

[hoe-days]

That has nothing to do with space

Senku x Reader

———

Senku wasn’t a terrible boyfriend, not in the slightest, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have his faults. Like his tendency to get a bit too wrapped up in science. That’s never been much of an issue though. Hell, a majority of the time (Y/N) is right there with him. But she hasn’t been for a while. What time is it?

Senku snaps out of it, he had been lost in thought while he waited for the calculations he was running on his computer to load. He glanced over at the second desk chair beside him, where his lover usually sat. It’s been empty for a bit now. Then again it is 2AM, (Y/N) can’t always stay up with him.

He sighs as he stands up and knocks the wrinkles from his clothes, he was still in his school attire and should probably shower, but it wouldn’t hurt to check up on (Y/N) first though, she normally takes over his bed when she’s tired. He makes his way to his room, careful not to disturb his dad as he walks through the hallway. As he reaches the door he pauses when he hears faint sounds of music and talking.

For anyone else something like this would raise suspicion, but he knows his lover, she’s just like him. It’s not uncommon for the two of them to stay up running experiments or playing some game. He still remembers the miserable day they had after pulling an all nighter trying to beat Akumajou Dracula X.

He pushes the door open and steps into the room and just like he thought, she was lying on his bed playing some game on her phone. Upon getting closer he’s able to see what on the screen, an RPG? The battle system looks fun.

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning over to look at her phone. “Oh, it’s a game I found. It’s called Love and Deepspace. I’ve been addicted to it for the past few weeks.” Love and Deepspace, huh. Sounds like sci-fi, right up her alley.

“Is it about space?” Senku immediately notices how she stiffens slightly when he asks her that. Very curious. “Well…yes. Technically it’s about space.” Senku raises a suspicious eyebrow at her answer. “Technically?”

Before he can question further the fight ends, her phone screen turning back to normal. He’s about to ask more when a phone rings. Senku instinctively reaches for his own, but he pauses when he sees it’s (Y/N)’s game. She goes to decline it, but the way she’s holding the phone causes it to slip from her hands, landing face down in front of her.

“Are you home right now?” A deep voice calls out from the phone. (Y/N) freezes, unable to say anything as the voice continues. “I’ll cut to the chase, Luke and Kieran have a gift, They’ll be at your doorstep in 30 minutes, I want you to receive it in person.”

(Y/N) quickly picks up the phone as Senku bursts out laughing. (Y/N) taps the screen frantically, but the deep voice continues. “You’re so vigilant, Kitten.”

(Y/N) shuts her phone off and puts her head down, lying face down on the bed. Senku stops laughing a few seconds later, breathing heavily to catch his breath. “Space, huh?” He has an impish grin on his face, one usually reserved for science experiments. (Y/N) groans into the mattress. “Shut uuuuup.” Senku sits down on the bed, leaning on one arm to try and look at her face. “I know I’ve been focused on science lately, but you haven’t been THAT lonely have you?”

“I hate you so much.”

“You want me to call you kitten or something? You should know I’m 10 billion percent not doing that.”

She whines, rolling herself up in his comforter and finally letting him get a good look at her flustered face. “Okay okay, I’ll stop. I’m going to go shower then we can talk about ACTUAL space. And you can tell me about your game.”

————

Bonus:

Senku lies on his stomach next to (Y/N) as they read through one of the story modes of the game, his hair a still a little damp from his shower.

“He most definitely drugged her just then.”

“Oh yeah totally.”

“He seems like type of guy to steal people’s laundry. And you say he’s an astronaut?”

“Yeah, A deepspace pilot. You know, he canonically uses my character’s tooth brush.”

“Don’t let this game give you any ideas.”

“Senku that’s disgusting.”

[enhaheeseung]

BREAK UP - L. HEESEUNG

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: crying, break up, angst, heartbreak, arguments.

Word count: 1400+

Note: another short one, continuation of part 1 you can read it here

Part 3

-

You barely made it to the driveway with your luggage, and your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, was literally following you into the parking lot in his boxers, practically begging you not to leave him. “Babe, please don’t go,” he said, holding onto the door handle on the driver's side, stopping you from getting in.

“Move,” you told him dryly, trying your best to keep your composure.

“No” he shook his head back and forth and you sighed deeply. “Let’s just talk it out, please, y/n. I regret what I said, and I don’t even know why I said it cause I love you, and I need you so much, baby. You don’t understand. Just the thought of not waking up next to you, is killing me inside.”

“Well, you said it so easily like our relationship meant nothing. You ended five years in five seconds like my feelings didn’t matter. It killed me inside to hear you say that to me, and now you only care now that you’re hurting,” you kept your tears at bay for however long that would be.

“No baby, listen, I love you, okay? I was stupid to even say that to you. I’m sorry I hurt you.” his hand slipped off the handle, reaching to take hold of your hand, but you evaded his touch.

You unlocked the car, attempting to leave so you wouldn’t have to talk to him any longer. It was already hard enough to leave him. You didn’t want to make it harder and stay.

“Wait, y/n, I-“

“I thought you said you were done talking,” you rudely cut him off, replying to him harshly.

“I meant none of it. Believe me, please just come back inside.” You could hear the desperation in his voice grow with every syllable.

“Nothing you say can ever change my mind.” You used his own words against him, glaring at him as you opened the back door and loaded up your luggage before entering the driver's side.

“Just give me a chance, please, baby, don’t leave me.” his voice was soft, barely audible after being mixed with the strong winds outside.

“I’m done talking” you shut the door in his face no matter how many tears rolled down his cheeks and no matter how hard he tried to get the door open you ignored it all backing the car out of the driveway while he begged and pleaded for you to stay even going as far to come out into the street despite the neighbors watching the whole scene unfold.

A tear finally rolled down your cheek, and you could still see him in your rearview mirror, watching him for one last time as you got further and further away from him.

He stood at the edge of the driveway, not even caring about being in his underwear. All that plagued his mind was the thought of never seeing you again as your car disappeared into the distance.

-

You arrived safely at your parent's house a few hours later. They asked tons of questions when you came through the door, but all you told them was that you and heeseung broke up.

That’s the only thing you could manage to get out.

Of course, they were shocked, angry, curious, and sad all at once, but you couldn’t talk about it right now. You were too hurt. Toluckily, they understood you wanted to be alone right now, and you appreciated that cause you just needed some time to register what was actually happening and what breaking up with heeseung meant for your future.

You plopped down on your old bed after putting your luggage down, staring at the ceiling and wondering how things went so wrong in the past year.

One week after the breakup

[Voicemail One]

“Hey baby, did you arrive safely? I texted you a week ago, but you didn’t read them,” he dryly chuckles. “Anyways, I hope you did. I hope you’re resting well and having fun with your family. I’m sorry again for hurting you; I just- I don’t know,” he sighs frustratedly. “You’re probably never gonna get this, uhm, bye, I guess.”

Two weeks after the breakup

[Voicemail Two]

“Hey, little one, I know you’re not listening, but it brings me comfort just sending this to your phone. It’s like I’m really talking to you.” he clears his throat softly. “I miss you, and I love you so much, can’t stop thinking of you and what you’re up to. I’m not doing much; I'm just working like always, but I’m off this week. They gave me a full week's vacation,” he sighs, wishing he had gotten it a few weeks sooner. Maybe that dreadful night wouldn’t have ever occurred. “Wish I could spend it with you. I wish I could spend every day with you.” he goes silent, just thinking about you and him and all the things he could have done differently instead of irrationally taking his anger out on you. “I hope your days are better than mine. I’m gonna go now. Bye love”

Three weeks after the breakup

[Voicemail Three]

“Hi love, how are you? I’m doing good, but it could be better. Vacation isn’t the same without you. It’s so…. Silent, I miss our conversations. I miss how we’d just cuddle all night and be lazy together, “ he laughs. “It’s ironic now I have all this free time and no one to spend it with. I know this will be the most boring week of my life, but I hope you’re having fun wherever you are, even if it’s not with me. Talk to you later, baby.”

One month later…..

[Voicemail Four]

“Hi, sweetheart. I thought you might like to know I’m sleeping more and eating a lot more, too. I barely get any work done now cause I’m always thinking of you. You take up every crevice of my brain. I’ve been sleeping 'cause it feels like time goes faster that way, and when I’m asleep, I don’t have to think about how much I miss you, and well, I eat more 'cause I’m bored,” he chuckles at himself. “I’m a mess, but I’m sure you already know that. By the way, I literally begged for you to stay. Well, I’m sure I’m probably ringing your ear off, so I’ll say bye. I’ll call you again tomorrow, same time. Love you, baby, bye!”

Two months later…..

“Oh umm, hi, I wasn’t expecting you,” heeseung grins at your mom, who was standing outside his door.

He wasn’t expecting any visitors, but he was pleasantly surprised to see her face.

“Hi,” she greets, simply not as cheery as she once used to be when she saw him. “Y/n said she had a few things, and I offered to get them for her.”

Heeseung nods with a smile, opening the door wider so your mom can enter. “Come in.” he can’t say that he’s not a bit sad that you didn’t come over to get the remaining items you had left at his place. He was hoping maybe he’d get to see you at least one more time, but apparently not.

Your mom enters with perfect posture, her head held high, making it obvious that she wasn’t the least bit impressed with what she used to call her son-in-law.

“How are you?” He says timidly while they walk to the living room, where your stuff is placed neatly in a brown box.

“Fine” she answers headed straight for the box not interested in even talking to him after what you told her about him.

“And y/n?” He asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes, hoping to at least get an update on your whereabouts and how you were doing after all this time.

“She’s fine is this all there is?” Your mother responds quick leaving no room for any other questions.

He feels his body relax. Just knowing you’re doing okay made him feel better. “Y-yes, I’m glad to hear you’re both doing well.” he offers a smile that doesn’t even get noticed. “Would you like me to take that to the car f-“

“I have it, thank you, heeseung.” She used his real name, something she never did after you and him started officially dating, and it hurt his heart being called that by her.

She walked to the exit, seeing her own way out. “By-“The door gets all but slammed in his face, making him feel even worse about what he’s done to you and, evidently, your family as well.

He locks his door, shuffles back into his bedroom, lying on your side of the bed, and pulls out his phone so he can send you yet another voicemail.

-

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

[noellawrites]

Dark!Sonny Carisi R*pe and Impregnation HC’s

a/n: happy anniversary my love @rafaslittleboy <3 also gender neutral but afab reader

warning: DARK CONTENT AHEAD, please do not read if this disturbs you! includes: rape, impregnation, virginity loss, inaccurate portrayal of abortion laws, manipulation, forced pregnancy, lmk if i missed any

- As Dominick Carisi Junior’s paralegal, you have a very professional relationship with him. Always running errands, filing papers, gathering reports

- But one day, he asks if you’re free that evening to babysit his three kids

- And you agree, of course, knowing he’s been going through a rough period with his wife

- But when you arrive, only Sonny is there

- “Sorry kid, there’s been a change ‘a plans. ‘Manda’s mom’s watchin’ the kids, ‘n ‘Manda’s off doin’ work stuff,” Dominick sighs, welcoming you in

- You’d been alone with Mr. Carisi many times, but this felt… different. The vibes were off

- He tells you to stick around, that you can help him out with work stuff and he’ll still give you money for it

- You share a few drinks, not unlike some of the late nights you’ve spent in his office together

- Later on, you’re definitely tipsy and sitting on the couch next to your boss

- All of a sudden, his lips are on yours in a passionate kiss, and you feel sick and confused

- Your brain is lagging behind your body, and Mr. Carisi is pulling your underwear and bottoms down your legs

- “Shh, this is jus’ between us, kiddo. Lemme make ‘ya feel good,” he say in your ear as your head lolls back

- At some point, you end up on the bed and he’s pulling his dick out of his pants

- “Been waitin’ so long f’this,” you hear him growl before he pushes in, painfully taking your virginity as you lay paralyzed with fear

- “Mr. Carisi, s-stop!” you whimper, which is pretty much all you can do as he fucks you deeper and more passionately

- He’s thrusting so roughly, and after a few moments you can feel him blow his load in you as he tells you how tight your hole is

- You pass out at some point and wake up in his marital bed the next morning with a dull, throbbing pain between your legs and a check for seventy-five thousand dollars on the nightstand next to you

- You think you must’ve imagined it, you’re in shock and disbelief. Your boss, the man who has worked to bring sexual predators to justice for the last decade? Raping you?

- And the next day at work, Mr. Carisi acts totally normal. Talks about how proud he is of his kids, how his son just took his first steps. It’s almost like nothing ever happened between you

- He gives you a wink, saying he’s always down for some more fun, and that’s the last you hear of it

- You love your job, and you need it, so you go back to acting normal with Mr. Carisi

- Until six weeks later, when you start arriving late and disheveled, sometimes calling out entirely

- “What’s goin’ on with ‘ya, kiddo? C’mon, talk t’me,” Sonny presses, putting a hand on your shoulder comfortingly

- He hasn’t crossed your boundaries since that night, so you’ve gotten more comfortable with him again

- “I’ve just been really sick,” you mumble, rubbing your forehead

- “Maybe ah’ should take ‘ya to a doctor,” he frowns, feigning concern. He knows exactly what’s “wrong” with you.

- “I’m fine,” you mumble, but after a few moments you get up and run to the bathroom to puke again

- “Let’s go,” you sigh, “I probably have the flu or something.”

- The doctor writes down your symptoms and orders a blood test, and you wait in the lobby with Sonny for about an hour until your results are ready

- You know you must be imagining it when the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant, about six weeks along

- Sonny hugs you, tells you how amazing it is that you’ve created the miracle of life together, and you stand still in shock.

- The first words to come out of your mouth are, “when can I come back for an abortion?”

- Sonny’s smile falls and he grabs your wrist, “what tha’ hell?”

- You tell him you don’t want a kid, you’re too young and not ready for it, but he’s not listening

- "'Ya really want an abortion? I ain't gonna let that happen, kiddo. I'll see 'ya in court," he snaps.

- The nurse gives you some resources but you know that Mr. Carisi will find a way to get what he wants, like always

- Your lawyer tells you that Amanda has been unfaithful to Sonny and he just found out that Nicky Carisi isn't his biological son, which is why he's so adamant on forcing you to carry to term

- Your lawyer goes for the rape angle, since you were actually raped and shouldn't be forced to carry the child

- Needless to say, Sonny and his lawyer eviscerate you on the stand, and it's emphasized by the sob story of what happened with Amanda

- He truly sees you and this child as his second chance, and there is no way he's letting you ruin it

- You can't take care of your newborn in New York City on a paralegal salary, and Sonny convinces you to move in with him and out of your shitty apartment

- You share custody, but slowly you can feel yourself becoming more attached to both Sonny and your baby

- You have to work from home, both the new baby and the postpartum struggles making it too hard to go in and do your job

- Before long, Sonny is already talking about baby number two. He needs this family, needs to rebuild what he lost through Amanda's infidelity

- That's when you realize, it was hopeless to ever try and leave

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 15

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 5k+

Note: THANK YOU ALL so much for the love recently!!! i would like to say my plan for this series has uhhhh changed and gotten a lot longer. oops. I'm just having too much fun.

I'm also making a more conscious effort to make Will sound more northern and not... like me. lol.

xxx

It’s hot. I’m sweating, but I’m used to it. I mean, 28 degrees? Please. That’s barely warm enough to make me swap out a T-shirt for a tank top in Brisbane, much less make me act like the heat is out to get me.

Will, however, is acting like he’s being slowly roasted alive. Every few minutes, I hear him let out a dramatic sigh, dragging his hand through his hair like he’s in some action movie.

“It’s so hot,” he complains, again, standing by the car with his arms stretched out. “I’m melting man.”

I roll my eyes and grab a box of kitchen supplies. “Will, it’s 28 degrees. Get over it. You’ve lived through worse.”

He throws me a look, eyes half-closed, clearly trying to will the sweat off his brow. “You’re a freak. It’s like a bloody oven out here. How are you not sweatin’?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Mate, Brisbane summers? This is nothing. You’re just soft.”

He groans, but he keeps going, lifting a box into the car, his motions slow and exaggerated, clearly feeling the heat more than he’s letting on. “Swear down, you’re built different. Like—proper freak behaviour.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, swatting him away a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Now stop complaining and help me get these boxes in.”

We fall into an easy rhythm, loading the car in relative silence, save for his occasional grumble about the weather and me offering completely unhelpful advice about drinking more water or manifesting a breeze.

As he sets a final box down, he pauses. “By the way, Monaco’s coming up,” he says, almost casually.

I blink at him. “Right. The brand trip.”

He nods, wiping his hands on the front of his shirt. “Still wish you were coming. Would’ve been fun.”

I try to smile, but it falters before it can settle. “Yeah, I know. Just... can’t really take time off right now. Not after taking a week off to move.”

He shrugs, but there’s something unreadable in the way he looks at me then—like he’s trying to decide whether or not to say more. But he doesn’t. Just gives a half-smile and closes the boot with a soft thud.

I gesture toward the flat. “I’ve got one last thing to grab. Wait here.”

He nods, already pulling out his phone, probably to melt into TikTok or some group chat with his mates. And I walk back inside, my chest feeling just a little too tight for the temperature outside.

I hurry back upstairs, my feet moving faster than my mind. I grab the last of my toiletries — shampoo, face wash, deodorant. The essentials. There's a knot in my stomach, one I can’t quite shake. The move is almost done, but I can’t ignore that nagging feeling. Like something’s missing, or I’ve forgotten something important. I try not to dwell on it. It’s just change. And change is always weird.

Stuffing the last of my bathroom things into a bag, I glance around my old room. The bed’s gone, the space left behind a queen-sized hole in the middle of the mountain of boxes. Honestly, it’s already filling up fast. I have no idea how Will and I managed to disassemble and reassemble that bed earlier today. It's impressive. We’re like a chaotic, sleep-deprived IKEA team.

I turn to head downstairs and almost trip on the way down. It’s hard to focus with everything in my head. But then I hear voices from the garage—Will and George. I slow, listening, unsure if I’m about to walk in on something awkward. But instead of that, I hear... laughter?

Only, it’s not quite right. Not full laughter. Just short bursts—sharp and a little too controlled. The conversation is light on the surface, but something about the tone feels clipped. Like they’re both working overtime to keep things casual.

I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, caught in the strange stillness of it. It sounds friendly, but not warm. Not really. Still, the quiet illusion of normalcy settles something small in my chest. Whatever weirdness I was bracing for... maybe I imagined it.

I take a breath and push open the door to the garage.

They’re standing by the car, both with arms crossed now. Will’s leaning back against the car like he’s trying to appear relaxed, while George’s hands are deep in his pockets, his expression unreadable—but not unfriendly. Just... closed.

When they see me, their voices quiet down a bit, but it’s not awkward. George gives me that warm, open smile. "Alright, I guess you’re all packed then?"

I nod, trying to keep things light. "Yeah, just about."

George looks around the garage. "Looks like you’ve got most of it sorted. Where’s the rest of the chaos?"

"Already at the new place," I say, laughing a little. "I swear, it looks like a small disaster zone upstairs. But it’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll remember whatever I forgot once I’m halfway to my new place."

Will is still leaning against his car, and is pulling out his phone, his fingers scrolling idly across the screen.

George chuckles, nodding. "Sounds like a good plan."

Then his smile fades just a little, a flicker of something more serious. I glance at him and realize it’s not the same relaxed George from before. He looks almost... sad? Maybe not sad. Just distant.

I don't know why, but I feel like there’s more he’s not saying. And then, just as I’m about to ask him about it, he speaks again.

"So, uh, I guess this is really happening, huh?"'

I blink, surprised at the question. "Yeah. It is."

He gives me a small, sheepish smile. "I didn’t realize you were moving today... I thought I had more time to mentally prepare for this."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I swear I told you."

George rubs the back of his neck, looking genuinely apologetic. "I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I should’ve caught on."

I laugh, surprised. "Well, I mean, if it helps, I can make it up to you. Maybe take you out to dinner sometime? It'll make up for eight months of rent-free living."

He raises an eyebrow, that usual smirk of his returning. "Only took you the better part of a year to 'find your feet,' huh?" He's grinning now. "But seriously, yeah, let's get dinner. Just us, like old times."

I feel a little lighter after that exchange. Not everything has to be so heavy. And George... well, George has always had a way of making things feel more manageable, even if it's just for a moment.

"Alright," I say, trying to get Will's attention. "Well, I guess we better get going before Will starts complaining about the heat again."

George laughs, and I feel like it's the most natural thing in the world. Will makes a grumbly noise in response.

George grins, and look over at Will, still leaning against the car, clearly a little too hot for his liking. He looks up from his phone, clearly grumpy.

"Ooh, look at me, I’m from Australia! This is nowt but a light breeze. Back home I’d be wearin’ a jumper in this!" Will says, putting on the worst Aussie accent I’ve ever heard.

I roll my eyes, grinning. “Alright, alright,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder. “Come on then, Captain Dramatic We’ve got flatpacks to conquer, not a heatwave survival guide to write.”

I glance at George one last time, giving him a half-smile, and he gives me one back, this time just a little more thoughtful. I turn away quickly before I second-guess anything, and head for the car, trying to ignore the strange feeling that seems to be hanging in the air.

We climb into Will’s car—a plush, newish Lexus. Nice, but not flashy. I’m still vaguely shocked he even drives. I always figured the Londoner in him would've ditched his license the moment he figured out the Tube.

He starts the engine, and the air-con kicks in with a low hum. I buckle in, glancing over at him. He’s leaning back in his seat, eyes closed for a second, one hand dragging across his forehead like the heat's physically punishing him.

Usually, he'd be complaining by now—some dramatic monologue about the temperature or the boxes or my “questionable” packing system. But he’s quiet. Not silent, just… duller. Dimmed, somehow. Like he’s buffering.

At first, I chalk it up to the heat. Or maybe he's just tired. We’ve been lugging boxes around all morning.

But then he looks at me—just for a second—and it’s not the usual cheeky, half-smirking Will. It’s more distant. Like he's there, but not really plugged in. I blink, trying to brush off the weird feeling twisting in my stomach.

Something’s off. I just don’t know what yet.

“You alright?” I ask, looking at him sideways.

He blinks, shakes his head as if coming out of a trance. “Yeah. Just… tired. Heat’s getting to me, I guess.”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t push it. “I told you to stop acting like it’s the end of the world.”

Will lets out a small chuckle, but it’s a bit too forced. “Right, right. I’m fine.”

The silence between us feels heavier now, like something’s pulling us in opposite directions, but I can’t figure out what. I want to ask him what’s changed, why he’s so off, but something stops me. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to get that feeling in my stomach—the one that always comes up when things are shifting and I’m not sure where they’re going.

Is he regretting helping me move? It's been a big day already and it's not even 11am. Is he realising that the boyfriendy side of things is just not for him - not with me?

His hands are gripping the wheel just a little too tightly, his jaw tense. He’s not saying much, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s been this quiet because of the heat—or because of something else.

I try to shove the thoughts down, like stuffing too much laundry into a washing machine and praying the door shuts.

I glance at him as we drive. “You good?” I ask again, this time gentler. “I know moving’s a pain. Don’t feel like you have to go to IKEA with me today.” I pause. “Or any day.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just looks out at the road, like the answer’s in the next postcode somewhere. After a beat, he finally turns toward me—but only halfway, like when people drive and can’t fully take their eyes off the road, but want you to know they’re there. His lips curl into a tired smile. “Yeah. I’m good. Just… a lot going on today.”

I nod, but something about his tone makes me feel like he’s not talking about moving. Maybe it’s just me overthinking, but the tension in the air feels like it’s building up, like something’s about to happen and I don’t know what.

By the time we arrive, I’m more confused than ever. Will is quiet, his eyes darting around like he’s searching for something he can’t find. The second we park in the dim, slightly echoey underground garage of the new flat, he seems to snap back into focus.

The hum of distant cars and the faint flicker of fluorescent lights fill the space around us. I’m halfway through unbuckling my seatbelt, reaching for my purse, when Will’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Do you think George will be alright with all this?” he asks suddenly, low and careful.

George.

Always back to George.

I freeze, the movement stalling mid-air. “What?”

“You know, with you moving out, and all the… changes?” His eyes stay fixed on the dashboard, but I can tell there’s something heavier behind the question.

I shrug, trying to keep it casual. “He’s fine. He hasn’t said anything. He’ll be alright.”

But deep down, I know I’m only telling part of the truth. George hasn’t said anything — and I’m not sure if that’s because he’s really okay with it, or if he’s still pretending it doesn’t matter.

But , let’s be real — I was offered his spare room until I ‘found my feet.’ I’ve done that now. This move was always the plan.

Will’s gaze flickers toward me again, studying me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m hiding something. He doesn’t say anything else, but the quiet between us feels even more loaded now. Like there’s a question hanging in the air that neither of us is brave enough to ask.

I start to open the car door, but Will’s voice stops me.

“I just… don’t want you to get caught up in all that,” he says, his tone a little off. It’s a weird mix of hesitant and serious. “I just want this to be… easy, you know?”

I glance over at him, brow furrowed. “This?”

“Us,” he says, a little too quickly. His eyes flick to the steering wheel, then back at me. It’s like he’s testing the word out, trying to make it sound right. “I want this to be simple. Not… complicated.”

I blink, trying to catch up. My heart thuds a little too loudly in my chest. “Okay,” I say, though it doesn’t sound as certain as I want it to. “I mean, yeah. I don’t want it to be complicated either.”

Will doesn’t respond right away. His fingers drum on the steering wheel, but his gaze is still fixed ahead, distant. It’s like something’s shifted in the space between us, and I can’t put my finger on what it is.

I feel the tension in my own chest now, the weight of all the unspoken things lingering in the air. I want to ask him what’s going on, but he looks so… careful, like he’s trying to hold everything together, but not quite sure how.

Finally, he exhales, his face still unreadable. “Yeah, just don’t… don’t make it harder than it has to be, okay?”

I nod slowly, unsure of what to say. “Sure. I mean, that’s what I want too.”

Will glances at me again, then turns his attention back to the 'tenants parking only' sign in front of him. He takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for something, but I still can’t tell what.

And just like that, I’m left with a pit in my stomach. Something’s off. But I can’t figure out what.

xxx

“See?” he says with a grin, setting down his Swedish meatballs like it’s a proper treat. “All I needed was a bit of scran and some proper cooling. Maybe I was a bit narky before.”

I roll my eyes, teasing him, “A bit? You were practically melting.”

He chuckles, his whole posture shifting as he takes his first bite. “I’ll admit it. I’m naff with heat.”

“You’re from England,” I say, sarcastic, “You don’t even have heat.”

Will shrugs, clearly in a much better mood now that his belly’s full. “That’s fair enough. But I’m still all about the AC and meatballs, so I’ll keep moaning anyway.”

We laugh, and for the first time today, everything feels... easy. The tension that had been hanging between us is gone. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the awkwardness of that earlier conversation. Either way, we’re back to being ourselves, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter.

xxx

Will nudges me as we walk through one of the showrooms, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m tellin’ ya, we could build a proper fort with all these pillows,” he says, grabbing a stack and chucking one at me.

I barely catch it, and it lands in my lap with a soft thud. “Alright, now you’re just daft,” I laugh, tossing it back.

But he’s already grabbed two more, lobbing them at me like some kind of cosy siege. I duck, giggling, and throw one back, barely missing his face. We both crack up, and for a moment, it feels like we’re in our own little world, just mucking about.

Suddenly, he reaches out, grabs my hand, and before I can protest, pulls me over to the nearest couch. He sits me down and settles beside me, his arm brushing against mine. It’s the first time he’s touched me today, and I feel a flutter in my chest — subtle but electric.

“Alright, that’s enough pillow warfare,” I say, trying to steady my breath between laughs. “We’ve got a flat to furnish, not a pillow fort to build.”

Will grins, squeezing my hand lightly. “Who says we can’t do both, eh?”

“You’re impossible,” I say, shaking my head, but the smile on my face gives me away.

“Impossible in a good way, yeah?” he says, giving me a cheeky grin.

I roll my eyes, but can’t help but smile wider. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Proper lucky, that,” he says with a wink. “Otherwise, I’d be knackered.”

A bit later, after Will’s just given me some proper rubbish advice on picking a rug, he suddenly points at this massive sectional sofa. “I’m tellin’ ya, if you ever need a couch, that one’s a belter.” Without waitin’ for a word, he legged it across the showroom and flopped down on it like he owned the place. “Comfort’s where it’s at, innit? This is the future of proper lounging, no two ways about it.”

I laugh. “I’m pretty sure it can’t fit in the flat, though.”

He grins, clearly having a blast picking out pieces he thinks I’ll need. “Well, I’d offer me help, but I’m pretty sure ma back would give out if I tried to lift this entire thing.”

I scan the shelves, trying to decide what I need. “I’m thinking just the smaller stuff today —shelves, maybe, and a nice chair for reading. I don’t need another bed just yet, the guest room can wait.”

Will hums, looking at the couch section. “You sure you don’t need a couch, mate? I mean, your place is looking pretty bare without one.”

I glance over at the couches, and my stomach drops. Sure, some of them look nice... but their price tags? No thanks. "I’m good without a couch for now," I say, narrowing my eyes at a particularly overpriced one. “IKEA couches are just... too much for what they are. Honestly, I could get a much better one secondhand.”

Will raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Fair enough. But what about these shelves then? Bet you could do with a bit more storage, yeah?”

I nod, already thinking about how messy things tend to get when there’s no proper place for anything. "Yeah, I definitely need more storage. Maybe some bookshelves, or something to hang my future plants on."

We continue walking through the showroom, and Will’s already grabbing a couple of things to throw in the cart—mostly small items like picture frames and throw blankets. I’m distracted by a sleek little coffee table when Will’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“You sure you wanna keep that knackered old bedside table?” he says, referring to my bedside table he unceremoniously shoved in his car boot this morning. “Thing’s seen better days, hasn’t it? Looks like it’s been through a war.”

I cross my arms. “What’s wrong with it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I like it. Reev found it for me on Facebook Marketplace. It’s got character.”

Will looks at me like I’ve just suggested I buy a whole set of porcelain garden gnomes. “Character? You mean ‘fallin’ to bits, smells like joss sticks’ chic? That thing’s got more wobble than a dodgy pub stool.

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “You’re being dramatic. Besides, it’s perfectly functional. It was free! And it’s got history.”

He snorts. “History? Yeah, if by history you mean ‘cheap’ and ‘fallin' apart.’” He glances over at the matching tables, clearly imagining how they’d look together. “Come on, you could get two nice matching ones for not much more than the price of that... whatever that thing is."

I scowl at him, pretending to be offended. “First of all, it's vintage. Second of all, it was free. Third of all, I like it.”

Will grins. "Alright, alright. But you know I’m right."

I roll my eyes. “Sure, Will. You’re totally right. I’ll just get rid of my, incense-scented treasure I inherited from my friend.”

“Alright, alright—y’win. But at least get yourself a desk, yeah? Sommat that’s not hangin’ on by a thread.”

"Deal," I say, chuckling, and add a couple of shelves to the cart.

After we’ve picked out what feels like half the store, we start sorting through what will fit in his car and what will have to be delivered. Will's getting into the logistics of it all, calculating how many boxes will fit in the backseat and whether we’ll need to make two trips, and what can be delivered straight to the flat by next week. I’m genuinely impressed with how well he’s handling it—it's like he's done this before.

“Alright,” Will says with a satisfied smile, tapping his phone screen, “If we play it smart, we can squeeze the lamp, shelves, an’ all them baskets in one trip. But I’m tellin’ ya now—if I’ve gotta play Tetris with the boot, I’ll be expectin’ a medal at the end of it.”

“I’ll buy you a drink,” I say, half-joking. “I’ll even let you pick where.”

“Deal,” he says, grinning wide.

xxx

We make it back to the flat just as the afternoon sun starts to dip, the air still warm but not as suffocating as it was earlier. Will’s already started on building the set of shelves—he’s got the instructions spread out in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration. He’s quiet, focused, his usual commentary missing as he clicks the pieces together. The speaker hums softly in the background, playing a playlist we threw together in the car. It's a mix of chilled-out tunes and random 90s hits. It's nice, and it still feels more curated than spontaneous.

I sit on the floor, sorting through boxes scattered around me, labeling everything like it matters more than it does. Clothes in one pile, kitchen stuff in another. Books to the left, random knick-knacks to the right. The only sounds are the rattle of tools and a barely-there synth line from the speaker. It should feel comforting. And maybe it does. Mostly.

I glance over as he places the final shelf onto the frame. “Hey,” I say, breaking the silence. “You want a snack or

something?”

He looks up, blinking like I’ve pulled him out of somewhere far away. “Snack? Uh, aye, go on then. What were you thinkin’?””

I tap my chin, pretending to think. “Tesco run. Meal deal. Sandwich, crisps, drink. The works.”

That gets a smile out of him—small, not quite lighting up his whole face like it usually does. “Canne argue with that.”

“You want anything in particular?”

He shrugs. “Whatever. You know what I like.”

I pause at that—because I do, and that used to feel like something. Now it just sounds like... delegation. Like he’s keeping a hand on the door.

“Chicken and bacon?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

Will nods. “Classic. Thanks.”

I push to my feet, brushing off my knees. “Alright. You keep playing handyman. I’ll grab the goods.”

He gives me a half-salute, more out of habit than humour. “You got it.”

The door clicks shut behind me. The air outside feels cooler now, and for a second I can’t tell if that’s the weather or just the shift in the room I left.

When I get back, he’s finished the shelves and has started unpacking the coffee table we both agreed was a dumb purchase. He looks up when I walk in and gives me a grin—easy, practiced.

“Mission accomplished,” he says, holding up the shelf like a trophy.

I smile back, setting the Tesco bag on the counter. “You’re a natural.”

Will rummages through the bag, pulling out the sandwiches. “Perfect. You’re a legend.”

We sit side by side, eating on the floor. The music’s still playing, the crisp bags crinkling in our hands. The quiet isn’t awkward—but it’s not full, either. It’s the kind of silence that gives space, not comfort.

I keep waiting for him to lean in, to say something, to make a joke or ask how I’m feeling about the move. But he just eats, legs stretched out in front of him, nodding along to the music like he's somewhere else entirely.

Still, I don’t say anything. I just lean into it. Because maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Simple. Easy.

I’m not sure what snaps him out of it, but suddenly he turns to me, mouth still half-full of sandwich.

“This is crass, but—”

“Oh god, here we go,” I mutter under my breath, already preparing for whatever nonsense he’s about to spout.

"I'm excited to fuck you on every new surface in your new gaff.”

“William!" I gasp, nearly choking on my crisp. "You could’ve just said 'christen the flat'!”

“Aye, but that doesn’t quite get the message across, does it?” he grins, his laughter bubbling up as he proudly enjoys the shock he’s caused.

A heat spreads across my cheeks. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it too—the idea of us here, in my flat with no roommates who will make a comment in the kitchen in the morning.

xxx

The next week feels like a blur. I spend most of it making trips to ASDA and TKMaxx, picking up whatever I can—throw pillows, mismatched kitchen utensils, a few random plants that will probably die within a month. But it’s all mine now. It’s starting to feel like a home, slowly but surely.

I found a couch on Facebook Marketplace. It’s nothing special—well, it’s actually a little lumpy, and the cushions are a weird shade of beige—but it's better than nothing, and it’s mine. I post the details on Airtasker and within an hour, I’ve got a guy lined up to move it for me. It’s a little sad how exciting that feels, but it’s progress.  

I’m making my way through the week, one trip to Pinterest board at a time, when Will starts coming over after work. He’s been really sweet about it all—helping me with whatever I need, always offering to build furniture or move things around. Every evening, I hear the familiar sound of his keys in the door, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter.

It’s the little things. Like him bringing over takeout because I’ve “been too busy to cook” (even though I’ve definitely eaten the same instant noodles three nights in a row). Or him teasing me when I say I still haven’t figured out where to put my wine glasses, despite the fact that my shelves are almost full. The way he jokes that I’ll probably just put them on the windowsill, like some sort of millennial cliche.

And, of course, the way he always stays a little longer than he plans, helping me with my flatpack furniture, his hands steady and familiar. It’s easy to fall into this rhythm with him. It feels... natural. Like we’ve been doing this for months, even though it’s only been a week.

But there’s something off. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

It’s like a quiet shift, subtle but impossible to ignore. He’s here almost every evening, still helping out, still making sure I don’t lose my mind trying to put together IKEA flatpacks. But the way he looks at me has changed. Maybe it’s how his smile lingers a second too short when I laugh, or how when I catch him staring, his eyes no longer hold that same playful warmth. It’s not coldness, just distance. Like he’s holding back, and I don’t know why.

When he’s close, it feels like he’s pulling away. The space between us isn’t just emotional anymore, it’s physical too. Whether we’re brushing past each other in the kitchen or lounging on the couch, I notice it—the growing gap that wasn’t there before.

The way he holds me in bed has shifted. He’s still there, still pulling me close, but it’s more like... he’s going through the motions. I miss the way he would hold me like I was worth figuring out. Like every touch meant something—like I mattered, like it was real.

Now, it’s all about getting the job done. He’s still affectionate, but it’s no longer playful or intimate. It’s like he’s trying to be present but is keeping himself on the edge, like he’s afraid to get too close. Every touch feels more like an afterthought than something genuine.

I miss the way he’d hold me until I fell asleep, his fingers running through my hair as if he wanted to memorize the way I felt. Now, it’s just quick kisses, a brief squeeze of my hand. It’s not bad, but it’s not us anymore.

I think back to that ridiculous moment on move-in day, when he joked about “christening every new surface.” Even though I sensed something was off, it felt like we were starting something real—something full of heat and laughter. But no such thing has happened yet. Now that spark feels like it’s flickering out. I miss the cheeky grin, the lightness in his voice—the way he used to be playful with me. I keep wondering if he ever really meant it, or if it was just him being funny in the moment.

I try not to let it get to me. After all, I guess we're still just friends. And friends help each other out, right?

God, it’s so silly to be this upset about not getting railed on my kitchen counter. Humbling, honestly.

But still, the way he’s pulling back, without saying anything, is driving me mad.

xxx

Taglsit: @meglouise00@migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-week Day 6 - Dizzy / Drunken Concussion confessions

i'm challenging myself to keep each of these at 660 words; see day one for more of an explanation!

“C’mon guys, one of you’s gotta wanna ride this with me?” The others blink up at him, around at each other, “Seriously? No one?” 

“I’ll ride with you, Ed–”

“Oh no you don’t,” Robin interrupts, shutting down Steve’s very good idea about riding the Zipper with him.

“C’mon Birdie, let a man live! The fair only comes around once a year.”

“And someone only has one brain, one that’s been bruised one too many times already.”

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” he says, waving her off, “So who’s goin’?”

It’s actually Will that steps up to go with him, after Dustin’s enthusiasm for going is shot down by Steve’s “Hell no, Henderson, you’re breakable enough as it is already.”

He and Will climb into their already swinging little pod and sit down, strapping the well-worn buckles around them, “Y’ready for this, Baby Byers?”

“Uh.. Sure, Eddie, Ready!”

“Don’t be nervous little man, carnival rides are always safe.”

And fun. The Zipper’s always been his favorite at the carnival, can’t get the swoopy guts like this on just any ride.

Even Will’s having fun, no matter the apprehensive look he had when they got on.

“Okay, Baby Byers, this’s us,” he says when he feels their buggy do it’s final swoop into the loading area. He unbuckles his seatbelt, goes to stand, and gets a faceful of metal for his efforts.

The next thing he’s aware of is a concerned voice calling his name. 

“Eddie? Eddie! You okay?”

“Steve?” his eyes find the both of him rushing forward, “Stevie! Darling!”

“He was fine until the very end,” Eddie hears Will explaining from underwater, “He unbuckled just a second too soon and got thrown into the bars.”

Steve does his disappointed tsk at someone, “Ooh, you’re in trouble now.” he says to whatever unfortunate soul is on the receiving end. He can’t quite parse out who it is, probably whichever one of them got hurt on the Zipper.

“You’re the one who got hurt, Doofus.”

“He’s not Doofus, Birdie, he’s Dingus. Always getting himself dinged up.” She must be talking about Steve.. Wait.. “Stevie got hurt? Who hurt him?!” Eddie wheels around to look for the bastard who hurt his Stevie, only getting a swirl of color and a supporting arm to the chest for his troubles.

“Okay, big guy, let’s get you looked at before you do or say something stupid.” Steve says, pulling him up. “I’ll take him to the medical tent, he probably has a concussion.”

“You’re a concussion,” Eddie says automatically

“I’ve had a good couple, yeah.”

Eddie lets Steve lead him wherever it is he wants to go (“The medical tent, Eds, I’ve told you that already.”) and is soon laid back on a creaky examination bench.

“He’s gott’n a percussion, doc.” Eddie patiently explains to the volunteer nurse, “You gotta check ‘im out, he’s got an ass that never quits.”

“Never quits what, Mr. Munson?”

He’s not quite sure, actually. “Uh.. bein’ an ass.”

Someone’s doing a bad job at hiding their laughter. “Gotcha, I’ll make sure to take a look.”

“No, wait! You can’t! That ass is mine, sister.”

The nurse giggles again, “I’m sure it is, Mr. Munson.”

“Yeah you better leave, hussy–”

“Eddie!”

Oh no, Steve’s mad at him, “What?”

“You can’t call people that, especially not the ones trying to fix your head.”

“Hey, my head is great! Get compy– coplay– compli— I’m great at head.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Eddie can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and makes a point to find it. 

It’s there beside him, surrounded by the most beautiful blush. “I love you, Stevie.”

The smile disappears, and that’s not what he wants to happen at all. He can feel his eyes start to burn with tears. “Eddie? Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“I made your smile go away.”

“No– Hey, it’s okay, I was just surprised; You’ll see it again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” The smile is back in his voice.

and, say it with me folks, they aren't even dating!!

if anyone doesn't know, this one on the left is the zipper

on AO3 here!

[justicescoolandawesomeblog]

MY BEST DAY EVER: MONSTER HUNTER EDITION

Allow me to give some background don't worry it gets less boring when I get into my perfect day part, but this was VITAL for you to know. You NEED to know my lore and background

2018 era- I still remember the exact moment my Monster Hunter journey began: January 26, 2018. A wide‑eyed 14‑year‑old me—Justice, living in Louisiana—saw the launch trailer for Monster Hunter: World and thought, “Whoa, you literally hunt monsters? Sign me up.” I’d never touched a single entry in the series (hard‑core veterans would probably crucify me for starting with World), but that title alone was enough to reel me in. The very second I got home, I booted up the game. I remember vividly the opening cutscenes and the hours of linear playing that followed before I was finally free to go about and do (mostly) what I wanted to do. I was hooked immediately and ran to school the next day to drag my classmate Avery into the chaos. We flailed through a very small portion of the game for a solid week before kinda just… stopping. The game felt brutally hard, and—let’s be honest—middle‑schoolers who have the attention span of a goldfish, not reading anything and skipping important information, are a recipe for disaster. Monster Hunter: World went back on the shelf, gathering dust while life kept rolling 2020 era- Fast‑forward to 2020. I’m in Tennessee now with a brand‑new friend group who finally convinced me to buy a PC. The Steam Summer Sale hits; Monster Hunter: World is cheap. I tell my friends that we should check it out. Summer was great—about 100 hours were sunk into the series, and we spent so many days just running around having fun—but, like everything, we played too much at once and got burned out right at the end of the big DLC, so back onto the shelf it went, again.

2022 era (third times the charm baby)-

Two years later, we dusted the game off again—and this is when the addiction clamped down harder than anything I’d felt before. We didn’t just clear the story; we 100‑percented everything: every quest, every crown, every achievement. The final monster (looking at you, Fatalis—my most hellish gaming experience ever) chewed us up for three straight months of on‑and‑off attempts before we finally triumphed. The dopamine rush was unreal.

2023-2024 MH:Rise & The Long Wait-

High on victory, we steamrolled through the next game, Monster Hunter Rise, and its Sunbreak DLC expansion. Then came the lull. The older titles weren’t on PC, but Capcom threw us a lifeline on December 7, 2023—the day they announced Monster Hunter Wilds. From that moment, our group chat became a nonstop rumor mill: datamined leaks, trailer‑frame‑by‑frame analyses, and wild theories about new weapon moves. Needless to say, we were excited.

February 28, 2025 – Enter Monster Hunter Wilds

After two agonizing years of countdowns and praying that our schedules lined up, launch day finally landed. My friend Avery from way back in Louisiana took PTO to play with us; my friends from Belmont—Tim, Raa’d, and Asher—and I (sorry, academic integrity) also skipped our classes and spent all day talking about the game. We stocked up on snacks—far too many snacks, if I’m being honest—but hey, we’d waited for this game for years, and nothing was going to stop it from being perfect, so dammit, I’m eating those Oreos! We spent the entire hour leading up to launch pressing the refresh button until 11 p.m., when we finally got in. There was a lot of screaming while we waited for the game to load, and the instant the servers went live, we dove head‑first into the untamed frontier.

mass panic right here as we struggled to get in ^ I'll breeze slightly quickly through this part of the story to get to the meat and potatoes a bit faster, but we first started with character creation and spent a good amount of time on it. I decided that this time I was going to use a Hunting Horn—which is basically a musical instrument for combat—so I made my character look like a clown / jester, which I thought fit perfectly. After the character was finished, we hopped into the action for real this time. 

my awesome character who i love so deeply ^

I have to say, despite the reviews claiming the game was unoptimized and ran poorly, we all had a really smooth time with the actual gameplay. The cutscenes were fluid, and we were able to join up and hunt together almost right away. The first few hours flew by as we got our bearings and figured out all the new mechanics. It played much like the games we were used to, so it was easy to pick up.

We tackled the first few hunts together, beating the hell out of the entire first area before branching out to get sidetracked on our own. Around 2 a.m. we were all geared up and ready to keep going. Exhausted as we were, we still pushed forward, playing through the entire day—and beyond—with literally no sleep. This went on for almost two solid days before we finally decided to take a small nap at the 31 hour mark and then continue.

the ganggggggg ^

After we woke up about six hours later, we got back to hunting—and I mean a lot of hunting. We fought through a slew of monsters together, multiple times, trying to snag the best pieces for our armor. Luckily, near the end there was one target we could all grind for to get ready for our first big hunt, but first let me explain something very important.

some cool screenshots i took during our fights ^

Every mainline Monster Hunter release is split into two parts: Low Rank and High Rank, with a brutal‑but‑fun Master Rank arriving about a year later as a DLC expansion. The roughly 40 hours my friends and I had poured in so far were just to reach the Low‑Rank boss (Zoh Shia), so we were amped to kick its butt.

awesome banana sword for my cat and my fluffy armor (not drippy at all and super ugly tbh) ^ Now this is where it gets fun-

Zoh Shia’s lore is wonderfully complex—especially for lore nerds like me—but here’s the short‑and‑sweet version: it was a secret super‑weapon engineered by an ancient civilization called Wyveria to defend the kingdom from an unknown threat. The weapon proved too powerful to control and eventually wiped out its creators. The last few survivors sealed Zoh Shia inside the Dragontorch, a living bio‑reactor that powers the entire continent. Naturally, the ultimate weapon learned to feed on the Dragontorch’s energy and began twisting the continent’s natural phenomena. Realizing the danger, the Guild assigns our hunter to slay it—which let me say it's no small task, especially on only a few hours of sleep, because this thing is an absolute beast.

Zoh Shia (if you look closely you can see me at its legs down there) ^ We got slapped around a bit, and while we didn’t have a ton of trouble, it was still a close call: we had one faint left when Zoh Shia finally neared death. Cue the screaming and panic as we ran around flailing and healing and making tons of mistakes in the heat of the moment under all the pressure.. When we finished the hunt, we celebrated—only to be reminded that even bigger threats were waiting in High Rank. That, however, would have to wait for another day. A quick glance at the timer showed our little gaming binge had lasted 59 hours, 38 minutes, and 3 seconds.

my cool hunters name and my progress ^

Reflection- 

I figured this would be the best way to knock out two birds with one stone—I’d get to binge a game with my friends and complete a hefty assignment, but it honestly turned into the best day…well, days…of my life. Even now, we still talk about it; the whole marathon became a core memory, and I love my friends for making it happen. They’d only planned to stay up for a little while, but when I told them about the assignment they buckled down with me, playing until we were ready to drop. That kind of support felt incredible.

This project showed me just how much I love and appreciate my friends—and how lucky I am to have people willing to go all‑in with me. Using what the textbook taught, I make sure to tell them I appreciate them more often, and it feels great. Seriously, it was an amazing, amazing, amazing time, and you’d better believe that when the DLC drops in a year or so, we’re doing it all over again!

onto the next adventure ^

[theromanticscrooge]

W.I.P. of my next O.K. K.O. fic which is pretty much: Contrive a situation where PV and Dendy interact featuring a lovesick-for-Boxman Professor Venomous, and blatant anti-Windows OS commentary.

This is set post-canon and I'm probably gonna have the full version ready in the next few days.

“...I didn’t want it to...AGH…” Venomous grumbled while dragging his fingers through his hair and making frustrated gestures at the computer monitor.

The screen was bright blue with a progress bar that stretched across the full length. Progress was at 0.1% with a cheeky, old school smiling emoticon sitting just above the bar. Next to the condescending smile was text reading: Porthole Version 11 Update In-Progress! Please wait.

“I warned you,” Fink said, looking mildly annoyed.

“I have papers I need to grade!” Venomous gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers a few times impatiently. “They’re due Friday.”

Fink raised her brows and watched the bar load one little millimeter further before immediately pulling back. Then the computer made a soft noise that sounded very close to tinkling laughter. For a second, the Professor reeled back and threatened to slam an angry fist through the computer screen. He saw a sad, fearful expression flash across Fink’s face and lowered his hand to his side. For extra reassurance, he shoved his hand in one of his jacket pockets.

“Where did you store the papers?” Fink asked softly.

“The...school portal thing.” He touched the monitor and traced a line down the side of the screen. “I had my login info on a sticky note….”

He trailed off and flushed bright red as he remembered certain events from yesterday afternoon. Boxman was high off of a successful Plaza attack, he dragged Venomous into the office and started brushing, slamming, or removing things from the desk, and he’d tugged at coat and shirt buttons along the way. Caught in the intensity of the moment, Venomous only remembered tongues and flesh.

The sticky note obviously got lost somewhere in the process and probably thrown away when he’d tried to clean everything up as fast as he could before a business meeting with Cosma that same day.

“Boss…” Fink pinched her brows and massaged her forehead. “Two words: password manager.”

“Boxman was supposed to…” He swallowed thickly. “Help me set that up yesterday.”

Fink’s frustrated expression deepened. “You...asked Boxman for help?” She snorted. “Boss, you can’t be in a room together more than two minutes before you go all heart eyes and lovey dovey. Ugh…”

“Yeah…” He sighed dreamily and didn’t stop the silly smile crossing his face.

“BOSS!” Fink snapped her fingers. “Focus. There’s more going on than your Boxbutt romcom…”

“Unfortunately,” he sighed.

“Okay,” Fink took a deep breath and steepled her fingers. “I have other plans today, so I can’t spend all afternoon troubleshooting.”

“Please…” He made a prayer gesture.

“I made plans to go to Saloon Town with Darrell!” Fink picked up a gaudy cowboy hat covered with bedazzled pink gems and a skull lined band. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks! No way I’m passing this up.”

“I wouldn’t want you to miss that.” He smiled. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

Fink snapped again and gave him a warning look. “I don’t trust you. Shannon and Raymond are babysitting Boxbrain. He’s off limits until you fix this computer issue.” She huffed and folded her arms. “And I called in a favor from Brush-head.”

“...K.O. is coming over?” Venomous raised his brows.

“No.” Fink laughed harshly. “He’d find a way to lock you and Boxbutt in a room and ruin everything.”

Venomous idly stroked his chin and started reaching for his phone before Fink smacked his hand and groaned again.

“You’re so hopeless!”

“You’ll understand if you find a partner someday and go through a honeymoon phase,” Venomous said with a sniff and an awkward smile.

“Ugh….you guys are so gross!” Fink grumbled. “I’m happy for you. It’s sweet but it’s gross. Okay, so Brush-head has a really tech savvy friend. She’s on her way over-”

“-I have arrived.” The aforementioned Brush-head friend walked into the office with several fluttery, shuffling steps. Dendy adjusted her beret and walked up to Fink and Venomous with an extended hand and slow blink.

“Hello, I’m Dendy. I’m here to help with your computer and other tech related issues.”

“I’m...Professor Venomous.” He took her hand, gave a firm shake, and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m...K.O.’s...bio dad. And secondary villain nemesis….”

“I’m aware.” Dendy stared blankly at him. “You almost destroyed the entire universe a few months ago.”

“Sorry about that,” Venomous said in a low voice while his irises spun around like pin balls and sweat beaded on his forehead. He started fiddling with the lapels of his coat.

“You’re on casual battling terms with K.O. again. And POINT no longer considers you a world-ending threat.” Dendy lightly adjusted her glasses. “Those are the only parts of consequence to me. So, I have no standing issues with you, Professor.”

“So, everything’s good?” Fink casually flicked her tail.

“Indeed.” Dendy nodded.

“Okay, I’m off!” Fink walked towards the office door and conveniently, Darrell showed up with a horse head on a stick and decked out in full cowboy costume. Said costume was covered in enough rhinestones, glitter, and tassels to match Fink’s garish hat as well as overshadow Darrell’s Lord Cowboy outfit. It wasn’t as nicely put together as the Lord Cowboy one, though. This one hurt Venomous’ eyes if he stared too long and had a very flashy Las Vegas feel.

For a moment, Venomous wondered if he should be concerned about what might be at Saloon Town based on the costumes. Then he remembered that Boxman had taken the kids costume shopping last week. He wanted to up the presentation quality on Plaza attacks since Venomous and Fink had officially returned. Darrell just wanted to show off one of his new outfits!

For a moment, Venomous smiled fondly. Then his thoughts started filling with Boxman. He parked himself in the office chair with a loud thud and wrapped his hands around the arms with an iron grip.

“Porthole is very frustrating,” Dendy said as she tugged off her hack-pack.

“...what?” Venomous blinked and returned to the present moment. Fink and Darrell were gone. The office door had slid shut again.

“I’m not fond of the Porthole operating system.” Dendy pointed at his monitor. “Everyone with a version of Porthole prior to Version 11 is experiencing forced updates like yours. I recently had to troubleshoot systems at Mr. Gar’s Bodega, Strawbaby Coutre, and several other Plaza businesses.”

“Is this update why Boxman was successful yesterday?”

Dendy nodded. “Its also the reason behind Mr. Gar throwing his personal computer into the alleyway dumpster. I had to spend an hour convincing him to dig it back out. Things have been very...frustrating lately.”

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #38

previous // next // story index

__________

Yuri

This isn’t going to be a lengthy update. I just want to record some thoughts about my very first camping trip because it turned out not to be as bad as I’d feared it would be. in fact, there were some genuinely fun moments as well as some enlightening ones.

One noteworthy thing that happened is that I went fishing. Never in a million years would I have imagined myself doing something like that. But then again, a week ago I might not have imagined myself sleeping in a tent in the middle the forest and actually liking it either.

Victor took about a dozen pictures of me with my first catch. I think he was even more excited about it than I was. Our favourite photo is the one where I’m holding the fish up and grinning like I’d just won a gold medal. On his Instagram account, Victor captioned it, “Yuri touched a fish. The world is collectively shocked.”

It was a silly tag line, but there was a glimmer of truth in it. I can’t speak for the entire world, but I can say I surprised myself by not being scared or disgusted by my fishy friend. After his fifteen seconds of fame, I returned him to the lake as carefully as I could. Victor said he was too small to keep, and I was secretly pleased that he wouldn’t be part of our dinner plans. I wanted to remember him as a triumph, not a tragedy.

I caught two more fish after that, and Victor and Leo each caught two. One of mine was big enough to keep, and so was one of Victor’s. Victor got the catch of the day, and a photo of that one quickly found its way to Instagram too.

Aside from fishing, I learned how to paddle a canoe, how to make campfire tea and how to zip myself into my own sleeping bag. On Saturday afternoon, someone — I’m not sure if it was Leo or Victor — started a water balloon battle that I somehow ended up participating in.

This morning while Victor and I were out for a walk, we found a small stand of wild apple trees. Most of them were laden with ripe fruit, and Victor lifted me up so I could pick from the low-hanging branches. We tried one of the apples straight away. I thought they’d be sour and inedible, but they were surprisingly tasty, even if somewhat on the tart side.

Our jackets were bulging with apples when we got back to the campsite. Ellie said we probably had enough to make a pie when we got back, if we didn’t eat too many of them in the meantime, so we retrieved a reusable shopping bag from the small stash in the trunk of Leo’s car and transferred our harvest into it to take home. I’m looking forward to apple pie. According to both Victor and Leo, Victor’s mom makes the best apple pie of all time.

After lunch, we packed everything up and loaded the car for the trip back to Maple Grove. The ride was uneventful. Victor drove and I sat in the front with him, and this time I didn’t fall asleep and was able to appreciate the scenery along the way.

I have to say, I’m glad I agreed to go to the North Range despite my misgivings, but I’m even more glad that we came back to Maple Grove this afternoon. As interesting as camping was, I’m certain I wasn’t made for roughing it. I was never so thankful for anything in recent memory than I was for a long soak in a hot bath and then a nice nap in a cozy bed. I think I’m due for a spa day after this. I can tell my skin and nails are going to need some attention, and I’m sure a therapeutic massage will also be on the agenda.

Victor thought it was funny that I made such a production of my bath when we got back to his mother’s house, but it was a big deal to me. After two days of lukewarm, low-pressure showers in a shabby building inhabited by spiders, sinking up to my neck in gloriously hot water with strawberry-scented soap was nothing short of divine. I could’ve stayed there for hours, if the water wouldn’t have cooled.

Victor came in to check on me at one point, and he said the expression on my face looked like I was having too good a time for someone who was in a room alone. In light of that, I asked him to join me. We often bathe together, so it was no surprise when he immediately undressed and happily climbed in.

Much to my relief, he didn’t want to act silly in there. He washed my back and then we just reclined in the pleasant warmth, with me nestled against his chest and him idly playing with my damp hair. It was one of those moments where we didn’t need words to communicate. I felt so protected, and it made me happy to know I’m with someone who loves me and cares for me. He really is my treasure. Of all the people in the world, I have this rare, beautiful, precious man to love and cherish, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have him in my life.

I thought about Ellie again, and wondered what she was doing at that moment. Was she thinking about Leo?

I want to imagine her being happy. I hope when she finally works up the courage to tell him how she feels about him, he won't hurt or disappoint her. He doesn’t strike me as the most mature person, and although I’m sure he’s intelligent, he doesn’t act like it. I realize I don’t know him all that well, but based on what I’ve observed up to now, I can’t help questioning whether he’s ready for a serious relationship.

Of course I know it’s none of my business. It’ll be up to Ellie and Leo themselves in the end. But I like a good love story and I truly do want the best for my new friend Ellie. For her sake, I hope she finds what she needs.

When Victor and I were done in the bath, he wrapped me in a towel and carried me the short distance to his room. “So your feet don’t have to touch the cold basement floor,” he said. I wasn’t about to argue with that. I didn’t have the slightest interest in literal cold feet, and I might as well admit that I love it when Victor carries me. The way I see it, being able to be carried by my husband is one of the few advantages to being tiny as well as severely underweight, and I’m not above taking my pleasure where I find it.

I know what you’re probably thinking. It’s utterly shameful how he spoils me. That’s more than likely true, but it’s his choice. I’d never expect or demand any of it from him, and although it’d require adjustment on my part if he suddenly stopped, I wouldn’t hold it against him.

He put me down on the bed and I dried off while he poked around in one of my suitcases.

“Pyjamas or normal clothes?” he asked.

“Pyjamas,” I said. “The dinosaur ones, please.”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a cheeky little grin. We’d both laughed like fools when we’d been out shopping one day and found sets of one-piece pyjamas for adults that reminded us of the kind we used to wear as little boys. Obviously, we each had to have a set. Victor’s are blue with a cute outer space theme, and mine are white with an all-over print of multicoloured dinosaurs.

I love wearing pyjamas even when I’m not planning to be in bed. One of the advantages of working remotely a majority of the time is that I get to wear them whenever I want.

“Need any help?” Victor asked as he came over and laid my things next to me on the bed.

“No thanks. I think I can manage,” I said. “It’s not like last weekend when I was in too much pain to move.”

“I’m glad you’re better,” he said. “You know I worry about you.”

“I know. I don’t want you to worry, but it’s good to know I’m important enough for you to worry about.”

“You’re the most important.”

“You’re the most important to me too," I told him.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

I smiled, amused. “Why do I feel like you’re looking for a reason to get your hands on me again?”

“Would that be a problem?” he asked.

“Let’s put some clothes on and then we can cuddle, okay? Then you can put your hands wherever you like.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Wherever I like?”

“Within reason.”

“Okay,” he said. “All I really want to do is hold you anyway.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

Despite my assertion that I didn’t heed help getting dressed, I somehow ended up letting Victor help put the top half of my pyjamas on me anyway. Personally, I think it was just a convenient excuse for him to get at the spots where he knows I’m ticklish, despite his assertion that all he wanted to do was hold me. I didn’t mind too much. He’s always gentle and he always stops when I ask him to, so I feel safe when we’re playing, even if I’m not entirely in the mood for it.

He’s pretty good at reading me, and I think he could tell my tolerance was low because he didn’t carry on like he often does.

“You’re still not feeling the best, are you?” he said as he helped me settle onto the pillows. He placed a feathery kiss on my belly before carefully zipping up the front of my ridiculous dinosaur PJs.

“I’ve been a lot worse,” I said. “Mostly, I’m just tired.”

“How about a belly rub?”

“No thanks. Put some clothes on and come snuggle with me.”

“Just some?”

“Underpants at least.”

He laughed. “I think I can do better than that.”

He didn’t do a whole lot better than that. I think he lost focus halfway through. Wearing only underwear and his favourite sweatpants, he flopped over diagonally on the bed, draped one arm over me and rested his head on my stomach.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured. “I’m not hurting you like this, am I?”

The weight of his head on my stomach was soothing, and I was sure I could fall asleep with him lying there, more comfortably than I could with the steady, warm pressure of my hot water bottle.

“No, you’re perfectly fine like that,” I said. “It feels good.”

“Good,” he said.

I weaved my fingers into his hair and began to massage his scalp gently, the way I know he likes. “Are you doing all right?”

“Mmm…” was his succinct reply, a low hum of satisfaction. “Right this second? I’m doing okay.”

I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back to this time last week. I was tempted to say things had changed dramatically since last Sunday, but in reality they hadn’t. I’d been feeling absolutely awful, and Victor and I hadn’t been getting along, so I suppose at least that much is different now, but nothing about our relationship has been fundamentally altered. Even though we’d had a serious disagreement, it didn’t mean we weren’t as committed to each other as ever. Us working it out was proof enough of that.

And we really had worked it out together. I silently congratulated us for that, because sometimes talking about the things that hurt and frighten us is extremely hard and our natural tendency is to avoid having those tough conversations. Fortunately, Victor and I trust each other enough to be honest, even if doing so can be painful, and both of us are at least self-aware enough to know that no situation will improve if we don’t confront our feelings and name them out loud.

I hadn’t wanted to admit that I was jealous of Victor’s relationship with Leo and Ellie, or that I was feeling insecure and scared, which was making me behave in a way I can only describe as possessive. It wasn’t easy to acknowledge I felt that way, but finding a path through it seemed less daunting once I did. I’d been worried that Victor would be angry. Maybe he had been a little bit, but he’d been willing to listen and he did his best to understand what I needed.

In turn, I listened when he talked about feeling homesick, about everything he’d given up to join me in Japan, and how he sometimes struggles with the choice he’d made. Hearing that, it was a challenge not to blame myself for holding him back from the future he’d wanted. I was the reason he’d left his home and his family and friends, given up on his plan to go to university, and lost his chance at a spot on the Canadian Olympic team. If he ever resented me for it or if he was angry, I couldn’t have blamed him.

I ached inside, thinking of what a shock it must’ve been for him to lose so much all at once, and how difficult it must be to balance that against his desire to be with me. I wished I could give him back what I’d inadvertently taken, but I knew I couldn’t. The only thing I could do was to help make it right.

Ever since last weekend, I’ve been thinking about what it might be like to live here in Maple Grove, to leave my home town and my country and everything that’s familiar. Victor did that for me, so how could I do any less for him? Besides, I have far less to lose than he did.

If I left home, I know I’d miss my mother and my baby sister, and I’m sure I’d miss my friends, but I don’t have any ambitions to give up or dreams to leave behind. My dream was to find somebody who’d rescue me from my despair and loneliness, someone who’d love me so deeply and gain my trust so completely that I could one day stop feeling unwanted and afraid. Victor is my dream made real. Where I am in the world doesn’t matter that much to me as long as he’s there too.

As for everything else, I’m confident I could adapt. Thanks to my father’s foresight, I started learning English as a preschooler and now I speak it almost as fluently as if it were my first language. Because of that, I’d have no problem working or going to university here if I wanted. The immigration process might be a hurdle, but I recently discovered that Victor’s uncle Stephen, Leo’s dad, is actually an immigration lawyer, so even applying for worker or student status in Canada may not be as insurmountable an obstacle as it might otherwise have been.

Victor and i will have to discuss all this at some point, obviously. It couldn’t be a spontaneous decision, nor one we could take lightly. We’d have to be absolutely certain it was what we both wanted and would be willing to commit to.

Although I’m sure he’d never say so himself, I think Victor’s decision to come to Japan was made with too much haste. Maybe that sounds odd, considering how long we were in a long-distance relationship, but I'm not talking about the length of time between us becoming a couple and him arriving in Matsumori. I mean the time between when he decided he was leaving home and when he actually did it. He told me in the middle of January, and by the fifth of February, he was there. I barely had time to get ready for his arrival. No, I’m not displeased that he did it, but in hindsight I believe it could’ve used a bit more planning. If I decide to leave home, I don’t want there to be any uncertainty about my choice.

Feasible or not, I could envision a future in which we lived here. We’d have a cute little house with a nice back yard for our dogs to play in and space for me to have a flower garden. Victor could be near his friends and his loving, close-knit family. I’d find a job, and he could go to university to become a nurse or physical therapist, and I could help him with his reading in the evenings. We could volunteer at the dog shelter and go snowboarding on weekends. Maybe I’d even agree to the occasional trip to the North Range.

The North Range.

Learning how to fish and how to cook food on a campfire weren’t the only bits of knowledge I’d gained while spending the weekend in the forest. After our time there, I have a better understanding of Victor’s relationship with Ellie and Leo, and I’d like to think I understand more about Victor himself. At the North Range, I got to see him in an environment where he was perfectly at ease, where he wasn’t anxious about complex rules of social etiquette, and where he didn’t seem to feel the constant need to prove he was adequate.

As a matter of fact, I’ve noticed that about him in general since we’ve been in Maple Grove. This is where he belongs. He’s happy and confident here. I realize no one’s existence is ever completely free of stress, but I’d like to see Victor enjoying a life where he isn't constantly anxious about not being good enough and never quite fitting in.

I recall sitting by the lake with him on Saturday night, watching the moon rise over the water. The moon seemed to come from behind the mountain and it looked enormous; an optical illusion I knew was created by how close it was the the horizon. I’ve seen it like that at home sometimes too, climbing up from behind the slope of Arashiyama. What I hadn’t observed before was how bright it looked without the presence of any other lights. The sky was scattered with stars, like thousands of diamonds strewn across dark blue velvet. It was stunning.

I’d been so preoccupied with staring at the sky that it’d taken me a minute to realize Victor was crying. He wasn’t making any noise, just sitting there with tears running down his face. I reached for his hand, and he’d curled his fingers around mine like we were the last two people on Earth and he was afraid to let go.

I didn't ask if he was okay. That’s the sort of banal question people ask when they can’t think of anything else. Most of the time it’s rhetorical anyway, since you wouldn’t be asking it at all if you already thought the person was fine.

Instead, I said, “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’ve missed this place so much,” he replied. “Honestly, I have no idea if I’m happy or sad. Maybe both at the same time? Like, as long as I don’t think too far ahead, I feel great, but whenever I remember we haven’t got much time left here, the sad part kicks in." He sighed. "Sorry. That probably doesn't even make sense."

“Don't worry. It does.”

“I don’t want to leave. Not the North Range, but like... here in general. Maple Grove.” He almost whispered the last word, “Home.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

He looked away from me, but I didn’t stop looking at him. I stroked his knuckles with my thumb, slowly and steadily, just as he would’ve done for me. “Why are you sorry?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you," he said. "I was going to keep it to myself."

"Why?"

"Because I didn’t want you to be upset.”

“Why would you think I’d be upset?" I asked. "You know I always want you to tell me if there’s something wrong, even if it’s something I might not like."

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” he confessed. “I thought we could just go back to Matsumori and I’d get over it eventually and everything would be fine. But I can’t. Thinking about leaving feels like something’s tearing my heart out. Like, it literally hurts and I… I can’t…”

He’d left the sentence unfinished, squeezing his eyes shut and visibly tensing his shoulders, neck and jaw.

“Victor, look at me," I said. I gave him a few seconds, but when he didn't open his eyes, I opted to continue anyway. "Listen to me. I don’t expect you to just get over things. Nobody expects that. Don’t I always tell you whatever you’re feeling is okay?”

“Yeah, but—“

“It’s okay,” I said.

“It’s not okay. I feel like no matter what I do, it’s gonna be the wrong thing. Somebody’s going to be unhappy, and it'll be my fault.”

“It won't be your fault, No one is going to assign any blame."

"I will. To myself."

"You shouldn't," I said. "And you shouldn't punish yourself for feeling a certain way. If you're unhappy and there's something we can do about it, why don't we try to find the solution together?"

“Because there isn't one," he said. "I made my choice already."

"Your choice isn't irreversible," I said. “Tell me what would make you happy. Would you like to stay here a little longer? I can go back, and you can join me when you’re ready.”

He shook his head. "I don’t want to be apart from you.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you either, but I also don’t want to see you in pain.”

“It’ll hurt worse if we’re not together.”

In spite of the situation, I smiled. “You’re impossible, you know.”

“I’m sorry," he said. "I can’t help it.”

“I know you can't. I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” I assured him. “I love that you want to be with me, but you know I can’t stay here with you now. I have responsibilities at home. I’m not going to make you come back with me if it’s not what you want, but I need to go, at least until my mother’s finished doing what she has to do in America. Someone has to take care of Yuki.”

“But… if I don’t go back, who’s going to take care of you?” he asked.

“I think I could get along for a while on my own.”

“I wouldn’t like that," he said. "I’d be too worried about you, especially if your mom isn’t around. Besides, back in the spring, you made me promise never to leave you again, remember?”

I did remember that, and it had struck me suddenly just how much I’ve grown over the past several months. “I’m not going to hold you to that promise any more. It’s not fair to you.”

“Regardless, I know I have to go back anyway, whether I want to or not. It’s just… I wish I could have everything I want, you know?”

I did, and perhaps having that knowledge is the hardest part of the entire situation. On Saturday night as well as now, I can see how much our current circumstances are hurting him, and it's breaking my heart.

Sitting there by the lake, I wished I could magically fix everything, as futile as I knew that wish was.

“Some day, my treasure,” I said softly, continuing to stroke his trembling fingers. “Some day, you’ll have everything you want. I don't know how we'll do it, or when, but I promise we’ll find a way.”

[rrenzwrld]

secreto de amor VII

chapter 7! read chapter 6 here

“y/n~i need to talk to you.”

“you always need to talk to me. talk to your other friends.”

“don’t get smart with me. i just wanted to remind you about the business trip i’m going on. i leave next wednesday.” jean worked with a company that providing them with relaxing trips out of the country twice a year because they know how taxing the job can be.

“where you going this time?”

“it’s actually a cruise, going to the bahamas. i’ll be gone for two weeks tho, much longer than last time.”

“two weeks??” that caught your attention. you were used to jean and his trips but you’ve never been left alone for two weeks.

“i figured you don’t need a babysitter because you’re 18 but some people will swing by to check on you.”

“you tell—“

“yes i told mom and dad. they’ll come check on you and if you get scared just stay over there.”

“anything else i need to know?”

“nope, think that’s all. love you!” jean closed the door behind him. although it was only tuesday and he had about a week to prepare, it shouldn’t worry him about leaving you. he knew that you were a good kid, you don’t cause trouble , and you’re practically already independent apart from you living with him. so he didn’t know why he was feeling weird about all of this.

later on that day, you called tia to have your daily conversation and some interesting things were brought up.

“you said he said what now?”

“just reposting tweets n shit and relationships, talkin bout some ‘i’ll take my old bitch over a new bitch any day’” the dude in question was your ex you dated for two years until he cheated. he was your first and last boyfriend and luckily you hadn’t lost your virginity to him or else you’d be going mad even now.

“a weirdo for real. remind me why you follow him again?”

she shrugged. “to be nosy. give us something to talk about.”

“valid.”

“your brother still going on the trip thingy?”

“yeah, why?”

“just asking. don’t he always go around the same time?”

“yeah but i didn’t think you were paying attention. he’s gonna be gone for two weeks this time.”

“two weeks?? oh you’ll be dead before he gets back.”

“don’t say that! i can handle myself fine for two weeks.”

“you don’t even sound like you believe yourself. but look at the bright side,” you rolled your eyes as you already knew what would come next. “connie can come over without any interruptions and he’ll stay and keep you company, and then~” tia started clapping her hands and moaning.

you laughed. “i fucking hate you. i don’t even think about him like that, he 22.”

“so? older dick be the best dick.”

“i’m gonna hang up on you.”

“it’s okay if you wanna hang up on me to call your man.”

“i don’t have a man.”

“sure..”

next wednesday rolled around quicker than you thought and it didn’t seem real to you up until you saw your brother all packed up in suit and tie.

“why you dressed up? i thought you were going on the trip to relax.”

“there’s a meeting right before we board the plane.” you nodded as you watched your brother put on his dress shoes. “are you sure you’ll be okay? you’ll call or text if you need anything right?”

“yes, i’ll be okay. just have fun.”

“i already called everyone to let them know so some one would be there everyday to check on you. and don’t throw any parties or anything while i’m gone.”

“i’ll try not to.” you joked. but he knew you weren’t like that. the most you’d probably do is have tia sleep over or something and just the two of you do stupid shit in the comfort of your own home.

“well,” he started as you helped him load the last of his things in his car. “i love you, i’ll be back in two weeks. i’ll call and text everyday, just don’t die on me.” he laughed while he pulled you into a tight embrace

“i won’t die, promise.”

after the both of you struggled to let go, you bid him a formal farewell as you watched him back out the parking lot, “love you too, be safe!”

after all that, it was weird having the place to yourself but you’d just operate how you would normally do. the only difference was that jean wasn’t present and you had to get used to that. but as he said, over the two weeks, people came to check on you every day.

you had visits from your older stepbrother elliot snd his girlfriend, your mom, your stepdad, and even your biological dad who really just started speaking to you after your mom remarried. but family wasn’t the only people who were there for you. you had visits from sasha who you’d hang out with from time to time, and sleepovers with your friend tia. but one person you really should’ve saw coming was connie. but you didn’t know how you felt just yet.

“y/n~” you heard connie call out to you from your room but he stopped in the doorway when he made it. “your brother told me to—“

“check up on me?”

“yeah, but.. a little more than that.”

“what?”

“he gave me a key, see?” he held it up proudly but you were shocked and maybe a bit upset.

“when did he give you a key? and why?” connie walked into your room and sat at the chair by your desk.

“he wants me to check on you

everyday—“

“people do that already.”

“yeah but he wants me to check on you everyday.. for multiple times a day.”

“so i don’t have a choice.. but to see you everyday?”

“multiple times a day, yes.” he smiles. “but that makes it easier for us to get to know each other.”

“don’t you have things to do? like work or..?”

“yeah but i’ll just come here after.” you rolled your eyes. although jean suspected that connie was trying something with you, he still trusted connie to keep you safe if anything else.

“whatever.” you went back to whatever you were doing.

“right,” connie stood up to walk out the room. “and imma need your number or something.”

“to track me?”

“no, just to keep in contact with you. weirdo.” he laughed. you were the weirdo? you ended up putting your number in his phone and he put his number in yours. “i turned locations on by the way. i’ll be back, bye!” he left before you could even get on him about it.

[fetishfairytales2]

Under the Bed, Pt. 2 (Story)

I smirked at Connor, "Thank you Daddy.” I said, bowing my head submissively; “I’m your kinky bitch." I turned my attention to Brandi, who was too scared to move now. "You see, cupcake, I asked my friends for a little favor. They've been saving all their used condoms for the past three months, just for you." As Brandi's eyes widened in horror, I disappeared into the closet and returned with two plastic containers, both half full. I explained that they attach to the dildos too. “When the microphones hear me moaning just right, not only will I be getting filled with spunk, but you'll get to experience it too." I laughed as Brandi's gagged face paled at the thought. "Looks like you'll be getting cream pied along with me, whore."

"Remember this, Brandi?" I asked with a grin, rolling eyes, holding up her old VR headset. "You used to love this when you were a big boy. But now that you're a sissy little girl, it's just a useless toy. Thankfully, Daddy helped me fix it to be more suitable for you. Now I can force you to listen to sissy hypnosis, turn on the noise cancelation and sensory deprive you entirely, or turn on the microphones up here and then you would be trapped listening to the sounds of me and Daddy fucking while you’re trapped down there, hot right?”

"That’s not all though! The headset can do one more super special trick," I said with a giggle as I placed it over her eyes. "Watch this," I said slyly as I switched the camera to video mode and crawled onto the bed. "Are you crying? Poor thing, is your little cock aching in its cage?" I teased as I twerked for the camera, giving her a perfect view of my ass in my skimpy g-string under my skirt. "Daddy made it so the camera is always tracking me! So imagine what else you’ll have a front row seat to! You’ll be able to watch me get fucked from so many different angles!”

I crouched down next to Brandi again; "don't worry, Mommy's got something even better for you to watch," I said, flipping a switch and causing Brandi to panic immediately. I let her suffer for a few minutes before turning off the headset completely. "Complete sensory deprivation," I explained to the trembling sissy. "The headphones will block out all noise and the screens will surround you in darkness." I booped her on the nose. "Just imagine how terrible it will be when I lock you down there like that for hours on end... and trust me, I will."

"Mmm," I purred, tapping my finger on my chin and savoring the thought of my final surprise for the little sissy slut. "Oh, can’t forget about this…" I pulled out a silicone mask from the drawer, which was wide enough to hide the wires of her dildo gag, cover her nose and mouth, and had a long hose running out of it. "I know it might be hard to breathe down there for you Brandi, but that's all part of the fun, hmm? This fun little toy here will allow you to fill those little lungs…when I allow it." I smirked as I attached the hose to a small mechanical box. “This hides under the bed too!” I explained with fake excitement. “Anything I put in this box? All of the air you breathe will smell just like it! How exciting is that?”

I held up a very dirty diaper in one hand and two pairs of panties in the other. “This disgusting mess, Brandi,” I said, showing her the full diaper, “this is from you last week. If you're a naughty sissy, you'll be breathing in this stinky diaper all night. “And these,” I giggled, “are my very dirty thongs. I've been wearing each one for an entire week, and quite a few of Daddy’s loads have probably leaked into them by now. I even wore the black pair to my workout earlier today, so they're extra nasty. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you breathe in my nasty cum filled panties instead!”

"Come on, sweetie, don't you wanna try your new toy?" I asked, sliding the mask over Brandi's face. She was so overwhelmed that the poor sissy didn't even try to fight back. "You're going to watch, hear, and feel every bit of the mind-blowing sex that you can't have anymore!" I chuckled, giving a nod to Connor who lifted Brandi up by her arms and took her to the bed. " Time to get our little princess ready for some playtime," I giggled.

I gave Connor a wicked smile as we saw the bed return to its normal height. "This is gonna be a blast," I giggled playfully while he pulled me in and kissed me passionately, easing me onto the bed. "I want it from the back tonight, be rough baby," I moaned, feeling his hands wander under my skirt. "I want her to feel you inside him, fucking her hard and fast while she watches my face. I need her to know how obsessed I am with your cock." 

“Wow you're twisted, babe,” Connor laughed as he pulled off my dress. He teased me, tracing his finger along the waistband of my thong. “But whatever you want!” He flipped me on my back and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me to my hands and knees. I felt him tug down my thong to my knees. "Get ready, slut," he whispered. Fuck! I was moaning just feeling his hard cock teasing me, rubbing against my 

clit. “Tell me how much you want it bitch.” It was so hot when he treated me this way. I couldn't even decide if I was more turned on by Connor dominating me or by thinking about how Brandi was suffering.

This was the best idea Connor ever had. I got all the dick I could want and poor Brandi was stuck, watching every second up close! Of course, before we sealed her cucky coffin, I made sure to add lots of Brandi’s dirty diapers in with her and taped the messiest one around her face. Connor started deep thrusting into me and I screamed for more. “Harder, daddy! Harder!” Fuck I was horny. I needed every inch of him inside me. The harder Connor fucked me, the more our sissy cuckold would be spitroasted by those massive cocks. “Don’t stop baby please,” I screamed right into the camera; “I want you to fuck me all night.”

The end.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #11

Prompt #11: Photo

Dawn is visiting the two brothers again to spend some time with Ingo while on winter break. She also brought some pictures from Hisui to flip through for a project of hers. Emmet gets invited to see a few of them and he's... mildy concerned, to say the least. Old habits really do die hard.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

“Dawn, these are absolutely abhorrent and you need to delete them.”

“But what’s wrong with them? They’re funny!”

Emmet sat nearby, Eelektross coiled around him as Emmet loaded that week’s dishes into the dishwasher. Emmet could practically hear the ludicrous amount of stress that rolled off of his brother’s voice as both him and his invited guest, Dawn, sat nearby in the living room.

“How were these pictures even taken in the first place? Dawn, the perspectives on these are not in first person.”

“Two of my pokémon have opposable thumbs, uncle.” 

“Why are there pictures of me in here? I don’t remember you ever taking these.”

From over the top of the couch, Dawn peered at Emmet, excitedly waving her phone around as if to beckon him over. “Uncle Emmet! Uncle Emmet!I need you to look at these pictures for me! Pretty please? I took them back in Hisui, and I want to know which ones I should get printed out!”

“Preferably none of them!” Ingo voiced. Ingo then shuddered. “Please don’t show any of these to your guardians- they would sooner have my neck.”

“What’s wrong with the pictures?” Emmet carefully set down what progress he’d made on the dishes, gently accepting Dawn’s phone as the teenager made room on the couch, eagerly snuggling in next to him as she began to flip through the pictures.

“Okay, okay! Look, look, look! Tell me which ones I should print out! I wanna put a few on my wall back home.”

“Very well.” Emmet carefully began to flip through the pictures, the first one making him do a double take. The first picture featured Dawn standing in some massive grassy field, her entire head obscured within a massive Gyarados’s mouth, saliva dripping onto her uniform. She was making a double thumbs-up gesture despite the fact that the Gyarados in question was glaring at her headless torso.

Another picture featured Dawn grinning and standing enthusiastically in front of what looked to be an active volcano pit, a massive, blurry Arcanine-like creature bearing down on top of her with all of its teeth exposed while Dawn was none the wiser, grinning as if taking a picture in front of a tourist hotspot.

Yet another picture, blurrier than the last, featured Dawn squaring up with an utterly massive Ursaring with only her bare hands in the middle of what looked to be a marsh. Another Ursaring laid a few paces away, its body twisted in an odd fashion like a pretzel.

Emmet swallowed, sparing Dawn a bewildered glance. “...I am… deeply concerned. I also have multiple questions.”

“You haven’t even seen the best ones yet!” Dawn complained, completely ignoring the fact that the context of the photos were all but missing. “Keep going through them! There’s like a bajillion of these in my photo gallery and I want to showcase only the best!”

This girl is insane. “Please define what ‘only the best’ means to you.”

Dawn looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm. Okay! I know! Pick the ones that surprise you the most. See, you guys are the first to see these pictures. My mom would absolutely murder me if she saw any of these but I mean- bragging rights, so- “

“None of these are ‘bragging rights’, Miss Dawn,” Ingo groaned, his head in his hands.

“I just think it’d be funny if I put up a string of these in my room and then invited my friends over and they saw.”

“A conversation piece?” Emmet questioned.

“...Yeah! That! I’m creating an energy!”

“That energy is fear and probably uneasiness,” Emmet muttered under his breath. He could see the humor in a few of them and Dawn looked to be having fun for the most part. But then, Emmet knew next to nothing about Hisui and how it was for both Dawn and Ingo, having heard nothing about the subject.

Dawn flipped over to another photo that made Emmet pale in the face. The picture was majorly zoomed out but Emmet could easily see Dawn’s blurry silhouette. She was falling head first, her arms and legs stretched out to her sides as a large Braviary darted after her, some kind of massive electrical storm moving in the background.

The next photo was surprisingly of Ingo. Both Ingo and Dawn were sitting calmly in some wooden hut, Emmet recognizing both Ingo’s Gliscor and Alakazam as they sat around a roaring fire. However, the main oddity of the photo was the fact that a massive Froslass with glowing red eyes was positioned directly outside the window with its face pressed up against the glass, reaching in one sleeved hand to quietly unlock the door; something that clearly neither of them had realized when the picture had been taken.

Yet another photo showcased Ingo way up high. So high that he was practically a smudge on the cliff he was scaling. With his bare hands. And no climbing equipment. Emmet recognized Sneasler’s form a ways above Ingo. Dawn was in the forefront facing the camera, pointing exasperatedly at Ingo while shaking her head. Some other boy- one that looked remarkably similar to Dawn- was almost losing it in the forefront with his eyes wide as he yelled something.

Dawn then tugged hard on Emmet’s sleeve. “This one’s my personal favorite.” She clicked over to a wide-shot photo where both her and Ingo were scarcely visible due to some kind of shrapnel explosion taking place between them. Emmet could just barely make out Ingo’s silhouette and signature pose- the one they used to mirror while on the Multi Line- but Dawn was at the forefront, mirroring Ingo’s pose while commanding… a Magikarp. A Magikarp whose expression conveyed an unspeakable amount of resignation and terror.

“What happened? In this photo?” 

“Path of Solitude. Magikarp.” Though Dawn was still smiling, she regarded Ingo coldly, her eyes brimming with venom as she balled her hands into fists. “His idea. To bring a Voltorb to a Splash fight.”

“And you used Self-Destruct?” Emmet blurted out incredulously. “No... Wait.” He grimaced, modeling Dawn’s same expression of irritation as he scooted a centimeter away from his brother. “That is standard Ingo behavior: tank everybody’s pokémon whenever convenient in the worst way possible. No strategy; only brute force.”

Ingo immediately went red in the face, pointedly not meeting either Dawn nor Emmet’s accusatory stares. “We are not getting into the debate about using Earthquake again-”

“It took a hundred tries for me to beat you!” Dawn retorted angrily, reaching across Emmet to grab at Ingo’s coat. “You traumatized Guppy! You made me use so many experience candies! It wasn’t even beneficial to the pokédex!”

They were optional!”

“Cruel and unusual punishment!” Dawn cried, crossing her arms. “Uncle Emmet, I need you to destroy Ingo for me. Teach him a lesson.”

Emmet immediately rolled up his sleeves. “Gladly.”

Ingo held up his hands in surrender. “Could you possibly reconsider?”

Emmet would have dropped the matter. He was a bit tired from taking care of the household chores and his pokémon hadn’t reacted in the slightest at word of a pokémon battle. But that was before Dawn had tugged on his sleeve again, a photo already preloaded, the cutesy charms on her phone jangling as she shoved her phone into Emmet’s awaiting hands.

“I have more,” she spoke slowly, her glare still trained on Ingo as she began flipping through other pictures. “There are several just like these. Uncle Ingo challenged me to a lot of solitude battles. A lot. Good thing I kept them, huh?”

[sequinsmile-x]

Tougher than the Rest

Aaron volunteers to chaperone his daughter's field trip to the zoo. He's handled serial killers and terrorists, he can handle a bunch of first graders for one day...right?

-x-

Hi friends!

This is a birthday fic for lovely, incomparable @jetaime-jespere . You are such a light in my life and I am always so grateful that this fandom brought me you.

I hope you've had a day as lovely as you, and that you enjoy this <3

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: None. so very fluffy you should probably floss afterwards

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily yawns as she waits for the coffee machine to brew, her eyes fixed on the drip as if she could will it to go faster. 

“Still not getting any sleep, huh?”

She groans, not even turning to look at JJ as she appears next to her in the kitchenette, her hip resting against the counter. 

“No,” Emily grumbles, casting a glance at her friend before she looks at the coffee machine again, “Benny hates sleep all of a sudden,” she fights another yawn, “It feels like this is karma for him being such an easy newborn.”

She’d almost let herself forget about the two-year sleep regression. It felt like a lifetime ago when Violet was that small, the six-year-old now fiercely independent and sure of herself in a way Aaron always said was all her, and memories of her being that small, as dependant as her little brother was, felt faint. Out of reach in a way that made her ache for the days when her babies were still babies. 

Then Benjamin just stopped sleeping. He was exhausted, overtired and furious, unaware that doing the one thing he was fighting would make him feel better. She’d spent the last several nights pacing his bedroom with him in her arms, her lips against his forehead as she slowly, but surely, soothed him to sleep for a few hours until they went through it all again. Aaron offered to take it in shifts, to carry the load equally as they always had, but she’d refused. Benjamin was all about her, the last remnants of separation anxiety she knew she’d one day miss making him impossibly more fussy if Aaron went in to calm him down. It was easier for everyone to do it herself, but she was exhausted - relying on coffee and the knowledge this would only last a few weeks. 

She jumps into action the moment the coffee machine beeps and she pulls it out to pour herself a cup, only remembering her friend is next to her when she clears her throat. She smiles apologetically at JJ before she pours a cup for her too.

“At least he’s cute, right?” JJ says, a knowing smile on her face as Emily chuckles and nods, throwing an extra Splenda in her coffee than usual for good measure. 

“I said that to him at about 2 am,” she says, sipping her coffee and sighing contentedly, “And then again at 5.” 

JJ laughs, but she’s cut off as Aaron walks over to the kitchenette, already talking to his wife before he pours some coffee, “I spoke to Cruz and moved the budget meeting to next week, so I’m good to go to the zoo tomorrow.” 

“The zoo?” JJ asks curiously.

“It’s Vi’s school trip to the zoo tomorrow,” Emily replies, “They asked for parent volunteers.” 

JJ hums, her lips pressed together as she nods and looks back at Aaron, “And you’re going?” 

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Why?” 

“No reason,” JJ replies, clearing her throat to hide a laugh, “Will went on Henry’s trip a couple of weeks ago and he had…fun.” 

Emily knew that was far from the truth. JJ had explained, in detail, how Will had come home from the trip a shell of himself. Exhausted and worn down by a group of kids he swore he could handle, his eyes wide as he told his wife about everything that had happened in the few short hours he was in the zoo. 

Emily loved her husband. He was an amazing man, an incredible father and he was excellent at his job. But he was wildly underprepared for what he was about to walk into. 

He’d never ended up needing to go to any of Jack’s trips as a chaperone. They’d always fallen at a time when he wasn’t around, a case falling at just the wrong time, or other parents simply volunteered first. It was part of why he’d made a point of clearing his schedule for Violet’s trip, a sense of guilt he could never quite shift for not doing the same for his eldest driving him to insist that he’d go this year. 

“I really don’t mind going, honey,” Emily says, trying once again to gently talk him out of it, something she’d tried countless times over the last week or so, “I went last year and it was fine.” She hears JJ barely cover a laugh next to her, her face half covered by her coffee cup, and Emily elbows her, “It was mostly fine.” 

The kids had been a little more out of control than she’d anticipated when she’d volunteered on last year’s school trip, but once she knew what she was dealing with she had it down. It helped that Violet was glued to her side, a little more shy than she was now, still finding her feet at school at the end of her kindergarten year. She was wilder now. More rambunctious. And, according to her 1st grade teacher, always at the centre of whatever mischief was going on in her classroom. 

Emily had a feeling that this year's trip would be more to deal with, and something told her that their little girl would be right in the middle of it all. 

“Em,” Aaron says, picking up his coffee, “It’s a bunch of 1st graders. I’ve interrogated serial killers and negotiated with terrorists,” he starts to walk away, throwing the rest of his sentence over his shoulder, “I can handle it.” 

JJ leans in close the moment he’s out of earshot, speaking low as if they were conspiring, “They are going to eat him alive.” 

Emily hums and nods, lifting her cup of coffee from the counter, “Yes they are.” 

___

Almost immediately a kid drops their water bottle into a pond. 

It’s a boy he’s met a couple of times, a kid called Theo who Violet talked about sometimes after school. Theo bursts into tears the moment he realises his water bottle is missing and Aaron ends up buying him a new, overpriced one from the gift shop, to cheer him up. One of the other parents looks at him like he’s insane and he realises then and there that he’s in way over his head. 

The kids are everywhere. Barely paying attention to what the teachers and other chaperones are saying, and more than once he witnesses Violet whispering to her friends, a sparkle in her eye she’d inherited from Emily, that only ever meant trouble. She smiles widely when she feeds her snack to one of the goats in the petting zoo, her laugh so full of joy and delight as the goat tickles her palm that he can’t even bring himself to chastise her. 

He’s just setting down all of the lunchboxes he’d been carrying, his agreement to carry Violet’s and then Theo’s leading to him carrying half of the classes, when he feels a tiny hand tugging at his sleeve. 

“Daddy,” Violet says, looking up at him through wide eyes, “I need the bathroom.” 

He smiles at her, tugging at one of her braids to straighten it out, frowning in confusion as he pulls a leaf out of it and drops it to the floor, “Okay, Vi. I’ll ask Miss Heather to take-”

“No, Daddy,” she exclaims, sinking into his side, her arms wrapped tight around his arm, “I want you to take me.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll take you,” he says, looking over his shoulder and making sure he’s got the attention of one of the other dads before he heads off so the children he’d been looking after are still being supervised. They are barely a few feet away when he hears a voice from behind him, one of the moms who Emily always insisted had a crush on him, catching up with him and Violet, a group of little girls around her including her daughter Cora.

“We have a few more for the restroom break,” she says, her smile wide as she places his hand on her arm, “I’ll come with you to help.” 

“Thanks, Melissa,” he says, subtly stepping away so her hand slips away from him. He looks down at Violet and smiles, “Come on, Vi. The sooner we go to the bathroom the sooner you can have the lunch Mommy packed for you.” 

“Mommy makes the best lunches!” She exclaims, a skip in her step as she pulls him forward, her endless energy in no way dulled by the long day and the summer heat. 

He hums, covering a smile as he thinks of the candy Emily had hidden underneath Violet’s sandwich, “She really does.” 

“Your wife couldn’t make it today?” Melissa asks, shepherding the gaggle of girls in front of her, the chatter between them full of excitement.

“No, Emily had work,” he replies, “Plus, our youngest is having some trouble sleeping right now and she’s his favourite by a mile.” 

“Benny can’t help that he isn’t sleeping,” Violet chimes in, repeating what they’d said to her and Jack over and over again the last few days, “He’s too small to understand.” 

“Exactly, princess,” he says, smiling as he squeezes her hand. They make it to the restroom and he lets go, stepping forward to push the door open, “I’ll clear the restroom.”

Melissa frowns at him, her eyebrows pinched together curiously, “Why?” 

He suddenly remembers where he is, at a zoo and not at a crime scene where an unsub could jump out of any shadow. He clears his throat and holds the door open, his arm high up enough that all the girls can walk right under it, “Sorry. Force of habit.” 

She smiles, stepping closer as the door closes behind the girls, “Of course, you’re a federal agent.” 

He nods and takes a step back, the back of his neck warm from more than just the sun beating down on it, and he realises that his wife may have been right about Melissa having a crush on him.

“Yes,” he replies, “As is my wife.” 

The conversation abruptly ends when Violet walks out, “Miss Melissa, Cora dropped her Nintendo down the toilet.” 

Melissa sighs and shakes her head as she disappears into the bathroom, muttering as she goes, “I told her not to bring it with her.” 

Aaron feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he digs it out, smiling at the sight of a text from his wife as he types out a response. 

How is it going? 

It’s fine sweetheart. Vi fed one of her snacks to a goat. 

He knows his wife well enough to know when he gets home she’ll see the exhaustion written all over him. That she wouldn’t say I told you so, but that it would be written all over her face, her smile wide as she sympathetically listened about his day. She responds so quickly he doesn’t even have time to lock his phone.

Just make sure she doesn’t try to bring home a snake this year. 

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, a laugh catching in his throat, but before he can type out a response Violet is tugging at his belt loop to get his attention. 

“Daddy? Do cats like lizards?” 

“I don’t know, Princess,” he replies, not looking at her as he types out a response to Emily, “Why?” 

“Because I found one and I thought Sergio might like a friend.” 

He cricks his neck he looks up so quickly, his eyes wide as he looks at the tiny gecko his daughter was inexplicably holding. He sighs and tucks his phone back into his pocket, silently wishing the last few hours of the trip away. 

She is all you sweetheart.

___

To his credit, Aaron holds it together until the kids are in bed. 

He looks exhausted the moment he gets home, his hair ruffled and his black polo shirt somehow stained. It’s a startling contrast to Violet who was practically bouncing off the walls after the fun day she’d had. 

When she sneaks downstairs after putting Benjamin to bed, for what she knows will only be the first time that evening, she finds Aaron lying on the couch, his legs hanging over one of the arms as he stares up at the ceiling. She presses her lips together as she approaches, suppressing a smile she’s sure might split her cheeks open if it gets any wider, and she leans on the back of the couch.

“You okay, honey?” 

He hums, “There were so many of them.” 

She coughs to cover a laugh and rounds the couch, encouraging him to lift his head just enough for her to slip under it. She immediately runs her fingers through his hair as soon as his head is in her lap. 

“Tell me all about those mean 1st graders,” she says, unable to stop herself from laughing when he glares half-heartedly at the fake sympathy in her voice. 

“They just move so fast,” he says, leaning into her touch, “And they don’t listen.” 

She hums and reaches for his hand, linking them together on his abdomen, “It’s chaos,” she says, pressing her thumb into the crease between his eyebrows, “It makes you respect the teachers even more, huh?” 

He chuckles and nods, “Give me interrogating a serial killer any day,” he says, “I think Vi is some kind of ringleader by the way.”

“Oh, she for sure is,” Emily chuckles, “Let’s just hope she uses those skills to be a CEO or something and not a leader of a prison gang.” 

He smiles and lifts their joint hands to his lips, stamping a kiss against her knuckles, “She’d be a great gang leader.” 

She scratches his scalp, “Want to try to get an episode of that reality show you pretend to hate in before Benny wakes up?” 

He nods, kissing her knuckles again, “I’m not moving though,” he says, winking up at her from her lap “This is my favourite place to relax.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and briefly untangles her hand from his hair to reach for the remote, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

He hums, “I don’t think you’re the only one who thinks that.” 

“What do you mean?” She asks idly as she flicks through the programmes they’d recorded. 

If he wasn’t so tired, if he didn’t feel so entirely wrung out, he never would have said it, his wife’s jealous streak well known when it came to the other moms at school. When she was pregnant with Benjamin she’d practically mounted him to make a point at one of Jack’s soccer games when she thought a few of the moms were flirting with him. But he’s relaxed, lulled into it by her touch and her warmth, and the safety of their home.

“Melissa was definitely trying to flirt with me earlier. I shut it down though. Told her my wife is a federal agent.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment of quiet, before she reacts, clearly having only listened to the first part of what he’d said. 

“She was what?” 

-x-

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[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi Cal!!! How are you I hope you’re having a nice week!

Lol I hope you know you never have to say sorry for not having finished all the asks yet because 1. The amount and speed at which you write is truly impressive and mind blowing and 2. Literally every word you choose to share is a gift whenever it’s published

I absolutely LOVED 🦷 🛏️ and ➰ they were all so so well done and fun to read and just a general delight!

I had fun doing the themed asks last week so I think I’m gonna keep it going. Lol warning the themes are definitely gonna get more and more contrived as time goes on but hey that’s part of the fun right?

First theme is then and now! Stories that connect the very beginning of the show to where everyone’s currently at.

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞 (one sentence and I’m already fascinated by the concept! There are so many ways you could take this one and I can’t wait to see how it goes!)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (i literally grin at my screen like an idiot every time I read about how happy and in love they are in this story! And I’m so pumped to meet the next Buddie kid! You already got me to fall in love with Violet and Nico so I can’t wait for the next one!)

- PCA <3

HI PCA!

Thank you!!!!! You are so so kind as always! I'm glad you liked the fics <3

Love this theme!

30 for 🪞 (thank you!!!! I'm excited to share my vision):

---

"Yes, Dove is a great kid. Peculiar sometimes, but sweet and smart. The problem is, with the rising costs of living and raising a family, fewer people are likely to adopt a child with pre-existing health conditions who is already six. But, we’re in Los Angeles. Maybe some wealthy family will take interest.”

Her tone when she says this last part isn’t confident. Crap. That’s not good. 

“So someone could ask to adopt her specifically?” Buck asks. 

“In theory,” Angie answers. “It’s a bit of a process.” 

“Right, yeah. My friends are in the middle of it actually.” Buck explains. “I hope Dove finds a family.”

“Yeah, me too. She deserves one.” 

When they end the call, Buck is all the more determined to solve this problem for Dove. 

iii.

He starts with Maddie and Chim. 

It’s not a hard decision. Maybe it would be harder under different circumstances. 

The person he thinks of first when he thinks of the ideal parent is Eddie. But obviously he’s not going to go there with this. Not the time. Like at all. Hen and Karen obviously would have been the perfect choice as far as taking in a foster kid with specific needs. But that’s no longer an option. Maddie and Chim have their foster license, though. And they’re good people! Chim was just as involved in saving Dove! They’ll want to help her. 

---

66 for ⚡️ (I am very excited to introduce them!):

---

All this to say, by the time they’re on one of their final trips, and the back of Eddie’s truck bed is loaded with stuff, Buck is tired. He’s sore from lifting, would very much like to get off his feet, and relax with a cool beer. But this is moving. Moving sucks. That’s a universal human experience. So Buck doesn’t complain. It’s only when he’s done securing the truck bed and walks back into the house for what is surely one of the last times, and calls out for Chris, who was gathering the last of his things from his former bedroom, that he begins to allow his fatigue to turn into frustration. 

Because Chris does not answer. 

Ten seconds pass. Twenty. Christopher doesn’t respond. 

“CHRIS!” Buck calls again. He figures Chris just has his headphones on. “Time to go, buddy!”

Again, nothing. 

Sighing, Buck tromps down the hallway towards Christopher’s room. The door is shut. Buck knocks on it.

“Chris?” He asks. 

“I don’t want to go yet!” Chris shouts from the other side. 

Buck, who could probably fall asleep if his head so much as touches a pillow, physically pouts at this. He wants to go back to the new house, where their mattress has been left on the floor of the bedroom while they set everything up, and power down like a house-moving robot that needs to recharge. 

“Uh, why not?” Buck asks. 

“Because this is my room and I don’t want to leave it!” 

Ah. Okay. 

Well, that’s interesting. Considering how he’d been excited about a house with a bigger bedroom. And not having to share a bathroom with Eddie and Buck. Literally, two days ago he was going on and on about how excited he was. So what gives?

“Can I come in?” 

“No,” Chris says. “I want to be alone right now.” 

Well… What the hell is Buck supposed to do with this right now?

He checks the time on his phone and tries not to groan. 

“Okay, Chris. I can give you ten minutes and then we need to get going, okay?”

“No! I don’t want to go in ten minutes. I want to stay here.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “Bud, there’s no furniture in there and there’s no food in this house. We’ve got to go home event-”

“THIS IS HOME! I like it here, just the three of us.” 

“It’ll just be the three of us at the new house, too. Where your room is bigger, remember that?” Buck tries. 

“Yeah, until you have another kid!” Chris replies accusingly.

Fuck. 

Buck really wishes Eddie was here for this. 

They haven’t actually said to him that they’re having another kid. They were going to wait until there was a more concrete plan. Not the nebulous idea of a kid, someday. Though Buck supposes it’s a bit less nebulous now that they’ve gone as far as choosing a name. 

“Alright,” Buck says. “I’m coming in.”

[interestinglittlerelationship]

We Should Kiss Like Real People Do

It’s finally time! This was so much fun! @jatpfebfanfest

This is for @princessmuk

“Wait, wait, wait, explain this to me again?” Julie says, tilting her head at him in confusion.

“Aragagh,” Alex groans, “I’ve explained it twice already,” he tilts his head at her, “Shouldn’t you know all about this, already? Willie is basically your brother.”  

Julie flings herself down next to him, “I know about the stupid family reunion thing, yeah, but why are you going?”

“Because Willie doesn’t want to go alone,” Alex supplies.

“Right, but…” and then she seems to stop herself, “You know what? Never mind. So, Willie asked you to be his fake boyfriend, and you said yes?”

Alex face plants into Julie’s pile of pillows, “Yes,” he mutters. This does nothing to block out the sound of Julie’s giggles, “I hate you,” he adds, rolling over and hugging a pillow to his chest.

After a moment he feels Julie’s arm press up against his side, “I’m sorry, Lexi,” she says seriously, “this is just a situation so ridiculous only you could have managed to end up in it.”

“Thanks, that just make me feel loads better.” 

Julie sighs, “It’s really going to be okay, Alex.”

“You think? Because I think I’m gonna get my heart broken.”

“I’m fairly confident that’s not going to happen, besides you already said yes,” she points out.

“I know,” he whispers.

“So, what are you going to do?”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s nothing he can do. Willie is his best friend and he needs help. Alex has to do this even if it destroys him, “I’m going to be Willie’s fake boyfriend.”

The time of his demise is delayed slightly by the fact this “favor” Willie asked him for is actually a week away. For someone with a normally functioning brain that might be a good thing, but Alex is far too anxious, and simply comes up with ten new ways it could go horribly wrong with each passing day.

His friends are unsurprisingly the opposite of helpful. Bobby straight up laughs in his face when he finds out, pats him on the shoulder, and says, “Good luck with that.” Reggie gets really excited and insists that this is the start of Alex’s very own rom-com, and then goes on a long-winded tangent about movies where the two main characters start fake dating and end up falling in actual love. Luke, at least, seems properly sympathetic but offers exactly zero practical advice.

Willie, for his part seems remarkably unconcerned about the many possible ramifications of this deal of theirs. Then again, Willie seems remarkably unconcerned about most things. It’s part of the reason Alex likes him so much, Willie balances him out somehow. Calms the whirlwind in his brain.

Willie is holding his hand.

Honestly, he’s having a hard time focusing on anything other than that fact. And he knows it’s for show, that they’re walking up Willie’s uncle’s driveway and someone might see, but none of that matters because Willie is holding his hand.

“This is going to be easy. You already know everything about me and they know practically nothing. You probably won’t even have to lie that much,” Willie is saying and Alex is nodding like a bobble head even though he’s only half listening, “Besides,” Willie adds, “it’s only for the day anyway.”

And that snaps Alex right back to reality. Because tomorrow he’s going to have to go back to pretending like he isn’t in love with his best friend. And he’s going to have to pretend like that fact isn’t slowly killing him. And none of this is real and Alex sort of wants to cry.

Instead, he says, “Right, no big deal.”

Willie yanks them to a stop on the bottom step, tugging his lip between his teeth for a second, “Seriously, Lexi, thank you for doing this.” And then he does the most unbelievable thing and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear. It does absolutely nothing since his hair is not actually long enough to stay put, but Alex melts anyway.

“Hey,” he says, squeezing Willie’s hand, “anytime.”

Willie blushes, “Yeah,” he breathes, turning away, “um, ready to do this?”

Alex shrugs, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As Willie introduces him around, Alex starts to relax. Really, pretending to be Willie’s boyfriend is not nearly as hard as he thought it would be. They hold hands and when anyone asks how they met, they tell the truth, “We were friends first.” Willie calls him truly ridiculous pet names like, “Hotdog” and “Honeyboo” which make some of his aunts coo at them.

Willie had basically said that he didn’t want to go to this party alone because all his relatives were awful, but that he’d only be allowed to bring someone if they were dating.

And yeah, Willie’s aunts and uncles are all a little distant and awkward, but seems mostly unbothered by their snubs.

His cousins, on the other hand are admittedly sort of awful, the kind of spoiled rich kids who think their money entitles them to look down on everyone else, but they pretty much leave the two of them alone too.

Willie’s mom had been the black sheep of the family, a free-spirit artist, who had run off with Willie’s dad right out of high school. Willie had never seen his mom’s family growing up, but after she and his dad died in a car accident, his attendance at these yearly reunions had become mandatory out of some twisted sense of duty or something. The rest of the year, Willie lives with his dad’s best friend, Ray, who is apparently not allowed to attend either.

Alex isn’t quite sure how to help, but Willie never once lets go of his hand, so maybe just being there is enough.

It’s a long afternoon, but only slightly painful, and then suddenly they’re climbing back into the car.

It takes a few seconds for Alex to realize that Willie hasn’t actually put the key into the ignition, or for that matter, let go of Alex’s hand.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs, “you okay?”

Willie drops his head onto Alex’s shoulder, “It’s just so exhausting, you know?”

Alex hums, because he doesn’t really.

“They’re all so fake, being all polite, and acting like they want to know me, but they didn’t fucking want me.”

Alex realizes then that Willie is crying, and he tries to shift so he can pull him into a hug, but Willie won’t let go of his hand.

“And I love Ray, I do, and it’s not like I want to live with them, but they spent my whole childhood pretending I didn’t exist and then when they were forced to acknowledge me, they still didn’t want me. And I lied to you. Ray usually goes with me and they wouldn’t have cared if I’d brought a friend as long as they could put on their little ‘happy family show,’ but I wanted you, and I wanted to be able to hold your hand, and now I don’t want to let go because I love you so much, but you probably don’t want me either.”

And Alex is, well, Alex is trying to wrap his head around the fact that his whole entire world just got rewritten. Because even if that was a bunch of heartbreaking word salad, he’s pretty sure Willie just said he loved him.

And this is why he doesn’t respond nearly fast enough, giving Willie the time to realize what he just said and freak out about it. Honestly, it’s all very Alex of him.

He tries to pull away, but this time, it’s Alex who won’t let go.

“Hey,” he says softly, and when Willie just keeps fighting against him, he says it louder, “Hey!” Willie freezes, staring at him, wide-eyed, “I’m, like, stupid in love with you too.”

Willie blinks, and Alex has a feeling his whole world is rewriting itself too.

“Oh,” he says, “Well, that’s convenient.”

Alex smiles at him, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

The sit there smiling at each other, and they’re both crying still too, but none of that matters because Willie loves him.

“So, um, I’m gonna kiss you now,” Willie whispers.

“Okay,” Alex whispers back.