#and maybe its selfish...but just seeing him leave and not talk to me every day? it hurts like hell

[innerfare]

Teasing or Overstimulating - Part 3

Summary: Do they tease you or overstimulate you?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Crocodile

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, sex toys, Big Dick Beckman, low-key Daddy Shanks, mean dom Crocodile

——— 

Shanks: 

He claims overstimulation is his love language and he’s doing you a favor by working you over every chance he gets, but it’s actually selfish- he’s not just showing you he loves you, he’s satisfying himself, his own desire to see your chest heaving and legs shaking and pretty pussy flushed from his abuse. 

“Come on, love, open wide for me. I’m just trying to help you out. There you go, that’s my girl. Now, hold still.”  

Most mornings, you find him with his face between your legs, his hot tongue worming its way into your tight hole (still aching from being pounded with his cock the night before); if your inner thighs are chafed from his stubble, he’ll happily bend you over and lap at your cunt from behind, smacking your ass when he wants to hear you yelp and whine, never content until you cum at least once or twice. And that’s just in the morning. 

Plenty of afternoons, he’ll kidnap you to jam his fingers in your cunt and thumb your clit, his mouth never leaving your sore nipples. On particularly slow days, he’ll tie you up and draw several orgasms out of you with a vibrator, maybe letting you suck his cock. He doesn’t fuck you until nighttime, though, and by the time he does, you’re absolutely aching, but it just feels so good you’re begging him not to stop, which he never will.  

Beckman: 

He doesn’t even have to try overstimulating you in order to do it. He’s a big man with an ever bigger cock and balls, and warming you up takes work, usually an orgasm or two. On top of that, he’s a man who enjoys taking his time; he could spend half the night just kissing you and sucking on your pretty little nipples. 

“I know your nipples are sore, but daddy needs to get you ready for his big cock. Just take a little more. I know you can do it.” 

By the time you have a thin sheen of sweat on your skin, he’s only just pulling out his throbbing cock, and he tends to last a good while, so you’d better be prepared to lose feeling in your legs. Gentle dom that he is, though, he doesn’t just fuck you into the mattress but rather talks you through it, telling you that you’re doing such a good job for him and that he just knows you can take a little more before daddy cums inside you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it. Deep breaths. You can do it.” 

And if he really wants to overstimulate you, he’ll hold a vibrator to your clit while he snaps his hips into yours, the stretch of his big cock and clench of your tight cunt so overwhelming for you he’s forced to clamp a hand over your mouth before the crew hears (as if they haven’t already). 

Crocodile: 

He doesn’t think of it as teasing, per se, just giving you something to focus on while he’s busy, needy little thing that you are, or else making you work for his cock. 

“Just shut up and try not to cum. I’m busy.” 

He’s not opposed to thumbing your clit, but he often needs his one hand for things more important, so he prefers sex toys to get the job done. Sometimes, he’ll hold you in his lap and make you press a vibrator to your clit while he works at his desk, grabbing hold of your wrist and pulling it back when he feels you start to tense up because he doesn’t think you deserve an orgasm yet. Other times, he’ll tie you up in his bed and leave a remote control vibrator between your legs while he sits back, smokes a cigar, and enjoys the view, switching the vibrator off when you start to whine. 

“Listen to you begging. You’re making a fool out of yourself, you know. This is why you don’t get to decide when to cum. You’re clearly not capable of making those sorts of decisions for yourself.” 

On a few occasions, he’s made you sit on his desk and finger yourself, telling you off for doing it wrong and being such a needy little slut the entire time. He’s definitely guilty of not even letting you cum when he finally shoves his big cock into you, and especially of holding out his hand and making you thank him while you do all the work of grinding your aching cunt against his thick fingers. 

One thing that doesn’t feature in his teasing, though, is oral. On the late nights or very early mornings he climbs into bed and decides he’d like to lick your sweet pussy, he usually ends up overstimulating you because he gets so lost in the taste of your creamy cunt and the sound of you whining and whimpering for his tongue. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[quietplace26]

Notes: Since this was requested quite a bit, and I'm feeling up to it, I decided to do a part two of that angst Furina!MC x Zhongli fic of mine. The original post is HERE.

Sorry if its sloppy or too short, but at least it's something. 😥

Also, thanks again to @arn9tails and for @platinumrosetail for helping me think of ideas.

Warnings: OCness, cringe, yandere elements.

Of course, Neuvillette would probably be angry to see that FAKE ex-Hydro usurper before him. Like how dare she show her face before his after everything.

He's so mad that he doesn't even notice her baby bump, or her flinching in utter fear at the sight of him as he stomps over, only to truly notice when she screams for "ZHONGLI!!", and the usurper of GEO, comes rushing over, and tackles Neuvillette away.

Snarls and roars fill the streets as both dragons wrestled on the ground, only for Zhongli to come out as the winner, pinning a still confused and equally angry Hydro Sovereign to the ground.

"Stay away from my mate and child, Hydro Sovereign!"

It's only with those words does the anger that blinded Neuvillette clears, letting him see Furina!MC truly for the first time.

She was huddled away, crying, staring at him in complete, utter terror as she held her belly, protectively hiding her baby bump.

Like she thought he was going to rip her child from her womb.

As Deus Auri stands and rushes over to his crying mate, Neuvillette stays on the ground, staring at the former Hydro Archon in an almost childlike confusion.

From the way she timidly held herself, to the way she spoke, and even to the way she wailed into the Geo Usurper's chest, there was no sign of the bratty, selfish Goddess he was stuck with for 500 years...

Ending 1. Neutral ending.

Neuvillette leaves Furina!MC be in Liyue.

She's not doing anything wrong.

She's just... living. She has a life, a family.

There was no reason for him to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

Ending 2. Bad ending.

Neuvillette becomes consumed with thoughts about Furina!MC.

Seeing her happy and free in Liyue, smiling a smile that doesn't match any of the haughty, sly ones he recalls in his memories, did things to him.

He watches her, studies her while in Liyue.

And it only makes the obsession grow as he sees a side of her that he's never seen... Or maybe he just never bothered to look deeper.

Gentle, soft-spoken, a love of knitting toys for children, and so much more.

And a happy mother to be as well. He sees how she cradles her bump, humming soft tunes as she rubs the small bump, clearly in love with her child already.

All the while the father of the babe was always by her side, smiling as well.

Deus Auri. Morax. Rex Lapis. The so-called God of Contracts, and most of all, the Geo Usurper.

This disgrace of a dragon was Furina!MC's mate? The father of her child? How disgraceful! And he dared to give her a GEO vision?! How dare he-

Neuvillette's thoughts only go downhill from there as in the last days of his trip to Liyue, he tries to talk to Furina!MC.

It was an awkward, tense filled conversation, but he now had HER view on things... Including Focalors' treatment of her.

And when he asks her to return to Fontaine with him so he could clear her name, she flat out says 'no', and... and asks him to stay away from her from now on.

This turns out to the worse thing to say.

Neuvillette more or less goes down the crazy yandere route, trying every possible way to pry Furina!MC from Liyue's protective hands.

From underhanded to quite frankly downright dangerous ways, Neuvillette couldn't be stopped.

An obsessed dragon is the most dangerous of dragons...

At this point Fontaine and Liyue were at the edge of war.

Still, Furina!MC remains in the safety of Liyue, in Zhongli's arms... Until she wasn't.

Neuvillette manages to snatch her one night, sweeping her back to Fontaine, where he does something horrific.

Ignoring his new and rightful mate's screams, he presses a hand against her now swollen belly, feeling the hatchling moving around inside, and let's his Authority flow.

He couldn't let it remain the spawn of the Geo Usurper. So, he'll just change its element entirely...

Ending 3. Good ending.

Where like the bad ending, Neuvillette still becomes rather obsessed with Furina!MC after meeting her again, however, he takes a different route.

Meaning, he somehow ends up in a contract with an irritated Zhongli, and now the two them share Furina!MC.

Of course, this took a lot of time and effort on Neuvillette's part, as he had to prove himself to Furina!MC.

This also meant him having to sit down with her to talk. No more lies. No sneaky Goddess pulling the strings. Just him and Furina!MC.

And a very grumpy Zhongli who refused to leave Furina!MC alone with the Sovereign.

The talk was awkward and tense... And by the end of it Furina!MC was crying from recounting all she went through.

And the sky cried with her as Neuvillette's emotions grew erratic the more she talked...

If Focalors hadn't died, then he would've-

Mostly after that is spent Neuvillette slowly courting Furina!MC, gaining her trust as Zhongli watched him like a hawk.

And by the time Furina!MC's child was born, it got not one dragon daddy, but two.

[jedisupernova]

reuniting with seong gihun

notes minors dni contains fem aged up reader (same age is gihun), always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but truly anyone can read, takes place in the midst of his pursuit of finding the salesman, ANGST (self deprecation, selfishness, mentions of hardships, death, failed relationships, suppressed emotions, mentions of infertility, includes arguments; this does not have a happy ending), dynamic between reader and gihun is childhood friends who reconnect in later adulthood, some made up lore to build said dynamic, mentions of nightmares, violence, smoking, sickness, slow burn maybe? i'm trying something new, and smut (mutual masturbation) after trusting someone for the first time in a long time mends part of his soul, but for how long, and at what cost?

requested? no, this is an original idea! i can't be normal about anything and how underrated he is in his own show is diabolical. anyway this one is long. please request something if you'd like or stop by the ask box or dms to say hello! i love a man with big brown eyes whose real good at looking sad. enjoy!

you always looked forward to every other saturday because it meant you had the day off. you took this time to sleep in before heading to nearby markets for your weekly grocery run. it was right after lunch time that you were perusing coriander so fresh you could still see water droplets on its leaves. just before you were to ask the older woman who ran the stand for the price, a familiar face swept past your peripheral vision.

you looked over your shoulder, seeing a man dressed in an unzipped jacket and talking rather quickly into his phone. he looked around the street corner like he was lost, a passing car letting you hear only fragments of what he was saying: "—station? which one?" you were about to return to your business when he faced in the direction of your gaze entirely. you hadn't seen that face in years . . .

he hung up the call, now typing with fervour. without thinking, you started walking: "gihun? seong gihun?" your voice was soft, approaching him with an air of caution you couldn't explain. he looked up, face tense with something beyond stress. "yes?" "it's me." you said your name. "we—we went to grade school together? my ... my parents owned a shop just down the street from your mother's." why did every syllable feel more embarrassing than the last, and why did your voice get quieter with every word? you were certain that you were looking at the gihun you grew up with—who could forget those distinctly emotive brown eyes, or those ears that stuck out and were made fodder for incessant teasing from your classmates? but gihun's expression didn't move an inch, his eyebrows knitted together in the slightest of confusion. but it was merely momentary, because when you were uttering apologies, his eyes widened with belated realization. "yes," he thought aloud, his tone was still oddly serious. "i taught you how to tie your shoes."

your expression blossomed into utter elation, lips separated in shock. he so casually swept the dust off of a shelf of memories you forgot even existed, making you mentally regress to that afternoon during p.e. who knows how many years ago. "y-yes!" you nodded. "i wore velcro shoes until i was eleven!" another memory came to the forefront: "we used to trade cassettes during lunch! we argued so much over the british ones. who was it again? david bowie and—" "—duran duran." said gihun. "duran duran!" you repeated, beaming. "oh my ... when was the last time i listened to them." you pondered aloud.

warmth crept onto your cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth: "i remember you and sangwoo styling your hair like theirs." a breath left his lips, chest tightening, his eyes betraying him as they quivered in abrupt grief. "you wore so much hair gel it blinded me in study hall. i wonder where sangwoo is now. i haven't heard much since he graduated from snu. are you still friends today?"

your question was objectively harmless. there was absolutely no way for you to have the faintest clue of the atrocities gihun's been forced to witness; the painful guilt he carries; the nightmares that carve the abysses underneath his eyes; the debilitating anxiety that fills his head with endless noise even in the eerie quiet of his deserted motel. he nods, forcing a tight, small grin. "we did stay friends." he says bravely, his eyes looking more familiar than ever.

the genuine smile you give in return was added to his self-anointed list of reasons why, at the end of his life, he would not die a peaceful death. it was another thing he would laboriously mewl over in the afterlife, looking up at the rest of the world, shackled to the deepest, darkest pits of eternal regret.

"that's good to hear." you say. "how're you doing, hm? you've cleaned up well from when we were in our twenties." you quipped playfully. through the scattered shells of his soul littered throughout his body, his innocent self was still somewhere in there, because he subconsciously looked for an out to ease his internal tension, letting out a chuckle at your remark. those vibrations in his chest felt foreign after these past two years, but that murky remnant of his past self welcomed the change, no matter how minute it was. "i've been better." he responded.

"yeah?" you asked. "if it makes you feel better, i'm glad i ran late today. because i got to see an old friend after a long time." gihun glanced at either of your hands—no ring. "have you met anyone?" he asked. you nodded, understanding what he meant. "i did." you say. "he left me when the doctor told us i couldn't carry." your eyes widened, unsure of why you were suddenly so honest. "i don't know why i just—" "i'm so sorry." gihun cut you off. his hardened expression turned shocked, even appalled. you recouped, wanting to look past this: "it's okay." you shake your head, metaphorically dodging the memories of your marriage counselor telling you to not 'to deny your own personal wounds as it'll seep into the companionship.' "it was a long time ago, gihun. how about you? did you meet someone?" he nodded, sympathy glistening across his retinas. "we separated shortly after our daughter was born."

"seong gihun, a father?" you grinned. "anything's possible." the ringing of his phone diverted both his and yours attention away. "i'm sorry for keeping you. you looked like you were in the middle of something—" "no, no. it's fine," gihun shook his head. "here, give me your number. i'll call you." he didn't know why he did it. he failed to stop himself declining the phone call from the loan shark he hired to head the search for the salesman, let alone handing you his phone to type your number in. was the impulsiveness of his past self also crystallized, emerging at this very moment? his discreet vow to blend into the shadows seemed to have crumbled in these past five minutes, giving in to his complex feelings: your sweet demeanor made him feel like a normal human being, and he wanted more of it. for the first time in a long time, seeing someone from his past didn't end in complete anguish. or perhaps it was the gleam of sadness that washed over your eyes as you spoke of your ex-husband, inflating his subconscious savior complex. even so, after you exchanged polite goodbyes, walking off in different directions, he mentally kicked himself for compromising your safety concurrent with unabashed intention of calling you that very evening. through any stage of his life, through the gambling and the scheming, it seemed selfishness remained his kryptonite.

for you, it was a hell of a lot to take in. at some point, it felt as if a prank was being played on you. it was one thing to offer sincere condolences for his late mother, or be sorry that his daughter lived so far away. but ... children's games that ended in murder? masked guards with triangles, circles, and squares hiding their faces? a handsome, well-groomed man that tenderized his face over a game of ddakji, in the middle of a train station? sure, you would miss a lot of someone's life after not seeing them for nearly three decades. but ... but this? it was properly outlandish. crazy, even. but over that hushed dinner, sat in a corner booth, the scent of sizzling samgyeopsal on the grill increasingly nauseating, it was too detailed to be a lie. he pleaded nonverbally for you to believe him—through the desperate glossiness of his eyes. you affirmed your belief in the same wordless manner, visibly nodding. you almost threw up when he handed you a business card, the three aforementioned shapes on one side, a random assortment of numbers on the back.

gihun brought you to his motel that same night, barren and lifeless besides white noise of the warm-toned, aged ambient lighting on the first floor and the tinkering of various ceiling fans with rusted hinges. you took in the six monitors mounted on the wall in front of his bed, equipped with live block-to-block security camera footage of his immediate surroundings, the metro transit map tabbed meticulously, and the calendar with past dates crossed out in thick red marker, pages of months previous mixed with takeout containers lodged in the corner trash bin. you quietly followed him upstairs, seeing his hidden stash of weaponry as he explained his recruitment of underground crime groups he's known since his gambling days. you didn't utter a word, not even when you lastly saw the mountain of cash stacked on a random bed in a random room. it stared at you as you did it—blankly.

he broke the silence. "this is where i've been these last three years." he said. he turned to look at you. "i ... i understand that it's a lot." his voice grew quieter. he swallowed, feeling shame brewing in his chest. "i just—i just felt like telling you. i don't know why. i understand if you don't want to know me—" "—i want to help." you said. his eyes widened. "what?" "i want to help you, gihun." you looked at him. he was bewildered. he shook his head, dumbfounded. "no, i think you misunderstood—" "—i did?" you cut him off. "you brought me here because i believe your story, didn't you? what did you expect then, exactly? for me to take my conviction away, like you say those masked soldiers did to those people who didn't stand still enough, or broke their dalgona? you tell me all of these crazy stories, your pain is so visceral that it makes me nauseous with guilt, and you want me to walk away? huh? what is it, then? what did you want!?" you hadn't anticipated your voice to rise, but were yelling by the end, your irritation stuffing the room.

he took your verbal berating silently, avoiding eye contact and shoulders lowering. "i don't ..." his voice trailed. "i don't want you to get hurt." "you gave up the right to protect me when you gave the impression sangwoo was still alive." you spoke firmly, voice now leveled. a breath of defeat slipped through his teeth. "you should've never called me." you said. "you should've done what everyone does: offer to get lunch to be polite, but never actually do anything. you shouldn't've called. i shouldn't've answered. i shouldn't've have shown up tonight, and i should've walked away the moment you started talking. you've given me no choice but to stay."

the silence was deafening. he looked up upon hearing the skid of your shoes against the floor, coming face to face with your softened expression. it was strangely disarming, feeling goosebumps travel up his spine."you were rid of me for thirty years. it's only right we make up for lost time." you said. his gaze didn't falter. it was his turn to affirm his belief of your wordless plea. he nodded, "okay."

you stopped by the motel in the early morning before work, listening to him comb through whatever new strategy he was going to run by his men that day ("what do you think? does this sound efficient?") and in exchange for making you miss your train, he drove you to work before parking at his usual spot. his guilt of bringing you into all of this felt stronger some days than others, showing in your not hearing from him for a couple days at a time. until you squashed that like a bug, dialing him in the middle of your lunch break: "... hello?" "why haven't you called me?" "i ... i've been busy." "you don't have time for a one minute phone call? thirty seconds?" "no, no. that's not what i meant—" "—i'm coming to the motel tonight."

and like clockwork, at nine pm, you showed up on the security camera. his phone vibrated: I am outside. when he unlocked the door, you walked past him without uttering a word, b-lining to his room. he did not immediately follow, purposefully hovering at the entrance after locking it back up securely. he walked with a lowered head, peering into the doorway some moments later. he was taken aback by the sight of you unloading your tote bag, nose tickled with the scent of freshly brewed stew, steaming rice, and side dishes. "i've brought tupperware. you're not eating takeout anymore." you don't look at him, hanging your bag on the back of a chair after fishing out utensils, sitting down with a small huff.

you looked at him. "are you not joining me?" gihun walked into the room, but fell short of sitting down at the table. "how long ... how long have you been cooking?" he felt stupid for asking the question, but the gesture left his mind blank. he felt atomically undeserving. "i got off work early." you responded curtly, plating your food. gihun didn't say anything, making you look up at him again. "it's going to get cold, gihun." your softened tone gave you what you wanted, watching him sit down across from you with muted satisfaction. you ate together in silence, nothing but the gentle clattering of plates and a quiet "thank you" when passing dishes rivaling the white noise of the air conditioning.

"from now on," you started, bringing your bowl to your lips, finishing off the last of your serving of stew. "you will update me everyday. i will bring food for us. if you forget about me, i will haunt you in the afterlife." "understood." he muttered, avoiding eye contact, pretending to look for a piece of meat in his stew, ignoring the one showing itself plainly on the left side of his bowl. his bottom lip quivered; he tightened his mouth. his arms started feeling weak; he inhaled sharply through his nose, tapping his foot under the table. but then a ragged breath rattled out of his diaphragm, his shoulders shuddered, and his vision went blurry; he was a goner. he sobbed into his hand. it sounded a lot like a coughing fit, so you initially thought the food hadn't gone down smoothly. but his defeated, muffled mewls into his palm and sunken shoulders said otherwise, sending you to your feet.

gihun instinctually turned towards the feeling of your hand on his shoulder, crying into your stomach. his hands pulled at your jacket, making you stumble, but you caught yourself. "f-forgive me, please. i won't be able to live with myself. i haven't been able live with myself for a long time." you looked down at the top of his head, unsure of what to do. you brushed his hair back with your fingers—not sure if it was crossing a boundary, but it felt wrong to just stand there—he only cried harder, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you so tightly as if you were a lifeline. "you—you make me feel normal." he said, breathing in short gasps. "after all the sins i've committed, you've—you've shown me atonement is possible." he lifts his head, eyes reddened, cheeks wet. the imagery of the moment was almost religious; if you listened closely, a distant artist began hammering at a marble slab. "b-but i'm not deserving of mercy." he shook his head, his hands coming together, visibly pleading. "leave me. i've hurt too many people. i can't hurt you next."

you wiped his tears. "you already hurt me when you didn't call." you said. "you already hurt me when you pretended sangwoo was alive and well." you reminded gihun, his head sinking in shame. your hand traced his jaw, lifting his head to look up at you. "you don't get to hurt me again by acting like you're alone in this." your voice faltered to a whisper. gihun's fingers ghosted over your wrist. "listen to me—" "—no, you listen to me." you cleared your throat. "we met that saturday for a reason. you let me in tonight for a reason. we're sharing a meal for a reason. stop lying to yourself." you said. "i can handle myself. i've been through a lot. i don't know how many sins you've committed, but even the devil gets a second chance. you should know, you've looked down the barrel of his gun."

gihun tsked. "save your prayers, gihun. just let me have the peace of knowing i'm helping a friend." he sucked in a shaky breath, sinking his face into his hands. "what have i done?" he whispered. "no one deserves to be alone as long as we both have." you retort. silence fills the room, making way for the words to settle into his psyche. goosebumps arise along his spine at the return of your fingers brushing his hair back. you take a step forward, his forehead brushing against the same place he wept on seconds before. "the least i could do is stay," you spoke quietly as if someone would overhear, even if you two were alone. "even if it's for a little while." as embarrassing and hypocritical as it felt to him, gihun gradually wrapped his arms around your waist. his touch hovered, however, only for you to pull him in, letting him know it was okay.

he got the message. his eyes closed, a long breath escaping his lips. you would've missed what he said if you weren't listening closely: "please do." he said, voice low, tone weakened. "please stay the night. there's—there's a room close to mine. down the hall." "i will." you assure without hesitation."what're friends for, hm?" you grinned. gihun let go. "i'll go—" he cleared his throat, voice gravely. "i'll go wash my face." he gestured to the bathroom behind you, rising from his seat. you returned to yours, "when you come back, have more food. you look sunken in." "i will." he muttered.

gihun closed the sliding door, inhaling through his nostrils, wiping a rogue tear with his knuckles. before he turned on the water, he looked over his shoulder, peering through the translucent palm tree imprint adorning the bathroom door. he caught a glimpse of you re-plating his food, leaned over the table, carefully pouring more stew; a hefty pile of rice on his plate; the side dishes pushed towards his seat. his bottom lip quivered, quickly looking away and tugging the right knob, the faucet pouring. the water ran and ran, but his eyes were stuck on his reflection in the mirror. he felt nauseated by the sight of his glossy eyes, deepened frown lines, and pathetic expression: worthless, contradictory, complacent.

seeing himself felt revolting. not even a mother could love this face after all i've done. he thought to himself. how would he know? he found his mother lifeless on the floor when he came home, eternally impairing her with the gripping chokehold of disappointment routinely tightened by her deadbeat son throughout the last years of her life. what would she think of her son now, a secluded loner who lives off of blood money, whom watched his best friend die right before his eyes, hired criminals to do his bidding to further involve himself in a fight that feels too big, and on top of all that has looped in an innocent woman into all of this? and for what, comfort? a semblance of peace? gihun splashed his face haphazardly, drying off with a towel hastily. he turned the faucet off, staring at himself again: "own the consequence." he whispered to himself. "it's all your fault."

you stayed at the motel even if it was against your better judgment, such as having work earlier than usual. gihun stirred awake at the rustling outside of his closed and locked door, reaching over and squinting at his phone screen: 5:37 AM. his senses clouded by exhaustion, he didn't realize just how quickly he recognized your footsteps, climbing out of bed without a second thought. his voice startled you, even if it was quiet: "what're you doing up so early?" he asked. "you don't have work for almost three hours." "i go in earlier today," you weren't sure why you were whispering anymore. "and i forgot something at home. i'm sorry for waking you up, gihun. go back to bed." he left the doorway, coming back with his jacket and shoes on, keys in his pocket. "let's go. i'll take you home, then to work." "no!" you protested, shaking your head and waving your hand. "i've caused enough trouble waking you up." "i'm already here," he said, taking your purse and carrying it in his right hand, his left gently ushering you alongside him. "let's go. you'll be late."

you shared cigarettes after dinner, the emptied tupperware long forgotten on the small table some feet away. you blew the smoke out the window, watching it disappear into the night. the click of gihun's lighter caught your attention, gaze lingering whilst he inhaled. you smirked to yourself: "i kicked this habit right before i started trying for a family." you said, bringing the cigarette between your lips. "i guess you're as bad an influence you say to be." you quipped, exhaling. "high school gihun would ask if he looked cool doing it." he muttered, holding his between his lips, putting the lighter back in his pocket. "he would. and i'd tell him he does." you affirmed with a nod, flicking ash into the tray lining the windowsill. "he would also ask for you to not tell his mom, even though he stole those cigarettes from her shop. then, two days later, he'd ask you for one." you chuckled, leaning towards the window and blowing. gihun shook his head, "what an annoying kid." "funny." you corrected him. "you were funny. aware, but also clueless. caring, too."

"i was shameless." he murmured lowly, blowing his smoke. you tsked un-approvingly, "stop being so brooding. now that's annoying." he looked at you as if you detested his entire family lineage, eyes widened in an expression fit for schoolyard bickering. "i'm not being annoying, i'm being real! hey—" he said, pointing his cigarette at you. "you're the one being annoying, just going against whatever i say! you've been doing this so much lately! on wednesday, when i offered to buy dinner because you've been working so late these days, and you said to me 'hey gihun, i have fifteen more years until i'm eligible for elderly welfare. i can cook just fine.' you could've just said either yes or no!" he waved his hand to accentuate his point, continuing: "and last week when you told me five times to stop wearing the same three shirts on rotation, and i told you i have more than that but there's no need because i sit in a car all day, and you said 'you're more dedicated to an outfit than the president is to the oath of office.' where do you even get this stuff?" he questioned, bewildered, pointing his cig to his temple. you nearly drew blood from your lip from attempting to contain your laughter. "and i wasn't stealing from my mom when i was that young! at least be honest about that." hearing him accentuate his vowels in the midst of his frustrated rant—a habit he's seemingly had his entire life—made your face feel warmer than before, a wide smile appearing whilst laughter finally rang out of you; you'd unpack the former later.

"okay, okay." you nodded, your free hand coming to rest on his arm as a way of both giving in and telling him to calm down. "was it my mom you stole from, then?" you joked, unable to hold your laughter at the look on his face. "you can tell me, gihun. i'm sure the statute of limitations is up by now for theft." "you're impossible." he muttered, shaking his head, bringing his cigarette to his lips. "hey. hey," you said, arm traveling up to his bicep, "i'm just kidding. i know you didn't steal." he stayed silent until he couldn't. "jungbae used to take his father's cigarettes. that's what i smoked." "okay, okay. i believe you, no need to be emotional." you said that on purpose, an upside down grin molding your face at his expression, suppressed laughter clouding your lungs. "how am i emotional for just telling the truth! hey, you can't just lay the bait and expect me not to take it!" "are you really this unable to take a joke?" you questioned. "wow, gihun. you take our role as elders more seriously than anyone our age." you remarked with faux indignity, hiding your grin behind your hand, inhaling. "impossible." he muttered to himself, turning away from you to face the window. your hand fell to your side, glancing at his cigarette between his lips before gazing out the window yourself.

silence washed over the room. after a few minutes, you put out your cigarette in the ash tray. you cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. "i know it's hard, but lighten up." you began. "we just had a good meal. our shit will pass smoothly in the morning." gihun turned his head, looking at you with those routinely emotive brown eyes, too capacious for his own good, gaping at you. you thought you knew what he was going to say, but he scoffed, looking back out the window, a hint of a chuckle leaving his diaphragm, a ghost of a smile on his face. "poop jokes? at our age?" he shook his head, inhaling. upon his exhale, he struck gold: "you're so full of shit." both of you turned to each other with widened eyes, an open smile of surprise on your face: "a pun!" you called out, pointing at his chest. "you just said a pun!" "i'm not inept." he said. "of course not." you agreed. "just stubborn." you grinned, hearing him scoff.

"you may not be the seong gihun i remember entirely," you said, watching him extinguish his cigarette. "but you're certainly a seong gihun that'll be hard to forget." your words weigh unexpectedly heavily, suddenly bringing up the inevitable next step when gihun confronts the salesman. it's long been established as you two have talked about it before, albeit more hesitantly these days, even if it didn't start that way. in the beginning, it was treated with zero sugarcoating; basic fact; common sense—he's going back in there and no one can stop him. however, over these last few months, it's not as if the end goal has changed, but its honest, unforgiving nature has become increasingly visceral. it lingers in the air like an unwanted draft, but you're scared shitless to get up to close the window, fearing something bad might happen if you leave your bed. it was overtly irrational, a perfect concoction of contradiction and avoidance; even at your big age. it made you feel sixteen again, narrowly evading your crush in the busy school corridor, but stealing every possible glance during your shared class. wait . . . hold on . . . did you just use the word . . .

"i don't plan on forgetting you." gihun cut your inner monologue off. you were taken aback. his gaze is unrelenting, even if his eyes give away his own surprise at his words. your mouth moved, but no sound followed. your mind was completely and utterly blank. gihun felt it too, considering you always had something to say at any given time. that's how you made your way back into his life; upended his routine; granted him a better sleeping schedule; made a technicolor life seem possible again; filled his aura with something other than regret and disdain. his life felt—even if it was only momentary—not like it was unfolding to the beat of a ticking metronome, but in peaceful silence, like now. there was no room for hurtful memories, intrusively incessant conflicting feelings born out of his festering trauma, or the hefty responsibility to avenge those lost that he attributes to his own faults. there was room for only you. you.

gihun turned away, flustered. he suddenly wished he never put his cigarette out, yearning for the scent of nicotine to distract him from the discomfort he felt now—a feeling he was sure you shared, too. "i'm sorry." he muttered, so quiet it nearly blended in with the noise of the air conditioning kicking in. you stepped forward, locking your arm with his. he turned his head, glancing at you when you laid your temple against his bicep. he feels one of your hands gingerly rub his arm, saying something neither of you had the guts to verbally. his posture was stiff, unsure of what to do, but he didn't think for an iota of a second to step away or nudge you off. he felt something inside him begin to thaw, or maybe it slowly had been this entire time. "tonight is the first time i've heard you laugh since we met again." you spoke. your tone was so hushed it made gihun feel as if you were the last two people on all of earth. you two stood in silence, looking out the same window; listening to the distant cares drive by; the meow of a stray cat; the air conditioning shutting off. too afraid to move his gaze—and frightened by how hot his face felt—gihun slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket, slipping it into yours. it took him a moment to mount the courage to intertwine your fingers, and another to lay his temple against the top of your head.

something shifted after that night. how could it not? your apartment collected dust with how you practically lived at the motel, other than to cook. gihun awoke before you did on days you had work earlier, intentionally setting this alarm no matter the time he fell asleep the night before. you stayed in his car a little longer than usual when he dropped you off, really pushing that five minute grace period you have to clock in on time, even if those extra few minutes were spent in flustered silence or repeatedly glancing at how close your hands were on the center console. every time you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, you hoped it was him; elated if it was indeed his name in your messages, and an eye roll if it was an email or the news. gihun found himself sitting up in his seat when your text came through midday (Going on lunch in 15 min), uncomfortably tugging at the collar of his shirt. he cleared his throat when you sent your usual follow up (Free now), staring at the call button next to your contact name. what am i going to say? he thought to himself, only to realize how ridiculous he sounded. gihun pressed the button hastily, bringing the phone to his ear with an irritated huff. since when did i become sixteen again?

on the evenings where you're running late for dinner, gihun is in your room at the motel, tidying it. he didn't want to face the fact that he lingered in your space because it was precisely that: yours—or in more truthful words, he just really missed you. it was where your energy remained a constant, even through the poorly-lit space and stuffy air. it felt irrational to miss someone he would see in a matter of hours, but he could not help it. he distracted himself with fixing the folded corner of the thin duvet; smoothening a stubborn wrinkle on a pillow case; replacing a faulty lightbulb; cracking the window open just enough if it was particularly humid that day. if you still hadn't arrived afterward, gihun sat on the edge of your finely made bed, waiting idly. he sped down the hall upon reading I'm outside, hushing your flurry of apologies with a gentle "it's okay. i only just came home, too."

gihun was no stranger to nightmares. he had them often, tossing and turning in bed, waking up in a cold sweat or with a prolonged headache that followed him into the day. over time, he got better at lulling himself back to sleep, harnessing the mantra of it's not real as best he could. but one night . . . it was too tangible, tactile, even. filled with villains of his past, ghosts of mistakes, ominous reminders of the uncertain future. he knew he was in a dream, but his subconscious was at war with his conscious efforts to wake up—throwing him in a very frightening limbo. he awoke with a sharp gasp, his body riddled with sweat and coughing abhorrently, throat heinously dry. this was the most severe dream he's had in a while. gihun tried to ground himself by whatever means his mangled mind could think of: steadying his breath, feeling the fraying blanket with his fingertips, trying to remember that mantra ... but his senses felt electrified, the visceral fear of the nightmare still fresh.

his eyes shot open when he heard a knock at his door. he stilled, unsure whether he'd imagined it. some of his rationale had returned, but not entirely, because when there was another knock, he quickly got out of bed, grabbing the gun on his nightside table. that dream really must have done a number on him, because he didn't look at his monitors and moved based on assumption—halting upon hearing "gihun?" your voice laced with concern yet gentle, ear pressed against the door. you knocked again. "gihun? are you awake?" you asked. "is everything okay in there?" his shoulders sunk in relief. have i lost my mind? he thought to himself. he put the gun back, momentarily deferring his disgust over his rash actions, cracking open the door.

he swallowed, hiding his grimace at his still aching throat with a quick swipe of his forehead. "good evening." he said rather monotone, trying to mask as light-spirited but executing it meekly. "i'm okay. i had a bad dream." "i heard you—" you gestured down the hall. "i heard you from my room, gihun. you sounded like you were in pain. i was worried that, that—" "—i'm fine." he nodded, trying to assure you. before you rebutted, he asked "what time is it?" whilst rubbing his eyes. "two in the morning." you answered hurriedly. "look, gihun. you're drenched in sweat and you're breathing so hard. i know this wasn't some ordinary dream." you say. "was it ... was it about them? the men in masks, the games?" gihun's hesitant pause was your answer. "i'm okay." he said again. "i'm sorry for waking you up. go back to bed." you tsked. "still so stubborn, even when he's sleepy." you eyed him, seeing his glistening face. "okay," you gave in. "i'm down the hall if you need me." a pause. "you're not alone in this." you reminded him, walking away and returning to your room. his gaze lingered in your general direction for a moment before closing his door.

he tried to fall asleep, but found himself stuck, only able to stare at the ceiling. gihun's mind ran a million miles an hour, feeling short of breath if he focused on that for more than ten seconds. he looked at his phone for the fifth time in three minutes: 2:47 AM. sleep felt nowhere in sight. his sweat had mostly subsided, heartbeat leveled, but his mind remained riddled. if he closed his eyes, they would open right back up. your proposition played in his head like a broken record, but like anyone his age, his pride stood in the way. it's not only that he didn't want to seem weak or have an insecure grip on self-sufficiency, but also seeking comfort still felt foreign to him. it was another symptom of circumstance, both of the past three years and the last four months. gihun felt undeserving, foolish for pursuing such a thing when he's so close to throwing himself back into a world running on nothing but adrenaline and fear.

gihun laid on his left side with a stern huff, closing his eyes, trying so desperately to feel that lilting tug of sleep, even if he had to pretend. he did all of this to protect you and himself. to protect the inevitable, to crystallize his oath of taking down those bastards once and for all. but when he looked at his phone, seeing it was now 3:16 AM, he suddenly felt thirty-five again: coming home horrendously late after another taxing day at the factory, muscles weak and his will even more so. his wife wasn't home, having been at her relative's house the past few days after an argument they had. he laid atop the bed the best his sore muscles allowed; he hadn't enough strength to shower or even feed himself. he got up less than four hours later, freshening up as best he could in an eerily silent house, ignoring the grumble of his stomach as he boarded the public bus.

it was one of his loneliest moments. he didn't know why he thought of that specifically, considering the divorce, custody battle, and moving back in with his mother was a different low point entirely. his eyes opened to the darkness. the silence felt similar, the shame even more so . . . gihun got up, taking his pillow and blanket with him. he knocked twice, pressing his ear against the door, only for it to creak open. it must have been left open. he stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. the layout of your room was the same as his, so he had no problem navigating the dark room. he quickly laid his pillow on the floor next to your bed, closing his eyes after unfolding his blanket. you were awake, overhearing his shuffling into the room. "gihun?" he gasped: "you scared me." he whispered back, hand on his chest. "why are you on the floor?" you asked. silence lingered. "i wasn't—i wasn't sure if it would be okay." "get on the bed, gihun." unbeknownst to him, you were awake for the past hour and some change waiting; having moved purposefully to lay on one side of the bed.

your face felt warm, eyes squeezing shut and nestling into your pillow when you felt the weight of the bed dip behind you. even though your backs faced each other, you thanked the universe that no lights were on in the room. gihun laid as far on his side of the bed as he could; not enough to warrant worry that he would fall off, but enough to thwart his fastening heartbeat he felt come increasingly close to his throat. or so he thought, because he stuttered with his next words: "you—you left your door open. don't ... don't do that. someone might come in." a beat. "you did." was all you said. barely ten minutes later, both of you succumbed to the white nose of the air vent, gihun's quiet snores and your steady breaths filling the room.

a week later, you walked into your apartment, setting bags of fresh groceries down on the kitchen counter. you heard your text tone go off in the midst of searching your cabinets for the usual pots and pans you used to cook—a piercing rattle reverberating through the immediate space when you dropped a small pot onto the stove, reading the text from gihun: 1 do not come. you stared at the text in horror, inner monologue clustered and borderline indecipherable—did he find him? how? when—yesterday it was another dead end—and lunch was smooth, too—how could have things changed so quickly? where is he—do not come? is he at there, at the motel? he sent this seven minutes—did he confront him there? how did he even find him there? how did he even— how did he even get inside? your eyes flickered back to the 1—a code you two established the night you took your wordless oath to help him in his endeavor ("it's quick to type. the 'one' we're looking for, the 'one' chance we have.") gihun sent the other three words to deter your stubbornness under the glimmer of the neon pink motel sign he didn't turn on himself, further punctuating the sentiment of imminent danger.

"how ... how long do i wait for?" you whispered to yourself. you paced back and forth, gnawing at whatever skin was left on your lips, moving to your nails after they felt raw. you didn't process your stomach rumbling more time went by; another hour passing on the clock, nor did you pay mind to how your loafers continuously pinched the back of your ankles, too occupied to remember to take them off. your phone rang close to midnight. gihun hadn't realized how quickly you picked up his call: "gihun!? what happened? is everything okay? are you okay?" "i'm safe." he said. "i am okay." he let out a breath, hearing yours on your side of the line. he began to explain: "we found him an hour after lunch. we tailed and tried to corner him, but he was too quick. one of my men are dead, and he used to other to find me at the motel." "n-no." you said weakly, shaking your head, horrified. "he was in my room." gihun continued. "he challenged me to a game of russian roulette. i won. he's dead."

you hadn't the faintest clue what that game was. but that did not matter. "d-dead? just—just like that?" your voice was quiet, eyes glossy. "after searching for these three years, he's gone just like that?" these people were so fucking odd. no matter how many times you reeled over the details, anecdotes, of whatever you learned, their ominous nature left you with an uneasy stomach; an urge to look over your shoulder at any given moment. it was consuming you these last six months. you couldn't imagine how it's been for him for the past few years. gihun nodded, despite you not being able to see. "yes." he affirmed. "he gave me what i needed. there's a card with a date and address for a halloween party, i think, since i searched it up and saw its a club. that's where the leader of the games will be. we've started planning what we're going to do—" "—that's—that's two weeks from now." you thought aloud. "yes." said gihun, nodding again. here came the part of the conversation he'd been avoiding: "i need you to ... i need you to stay at your apartment. just for tonight." you were deeply offended. "what? are you crazy?" you retorted, furrowing your eyebrows. "absolutely not. you listen to me, i'm coming—" "—no, listen to me." he cut you off. "it's a mess at the motel. i can't—" he huffed, shoulders sinking a little. "i can't do that to you."

you understood what he meant. "okay." you sounded hurt, but agreeable. you leaned on the kitchen counter, elbow rustling against the grocery bags. "okay." you repeated, running your hand over your face, clearing your throat afterward. you realized this wasn't gihun acting as if he was alone in his endeavor, but asking nonverbally for your belief in him. "i'll stay here. i trust you." "thank you." he responded in a whisper, overcome by a hefty wave of relief. "just for tonight. i promise." he specified once again. "i know." you said. a moment of silence washes over before gihun speaks. "i'll take you to work tomorrow." he said gently. "do you go in at nine?" "seven." you correct. you look over your shoulder, seeing it was nearing one in the morning on the oven clock. "i didn't realize how late it was. i haven't even showered yet." "me neither." he responded, glancing at the time on his car's dashboard. "i'll be at your building at half six. is that okay?" you nodded, despite his not being able to see. "yes, that's okay."

silence washed over the call. "thank you for trusting me." he said. "thank you for trusting me too. goodnight, gihun." "goodnight." he quickly hung up the call, tossing his phone onto the empty passenger's seat. a shaky breath left his lips as his eyes watered, fingers harshly rubbing his closed eyelids. "fuck." he muttered under his breath. when his vision cleared, he turned his head, looking out his car window to your apartment building. he stared and stared, eyes flittering up and down the various floors, trying to spot yours with any hint; a lamp turned off, a curtain closed, anything. some part of him wanted to stay in his spot until he was to pick you up, and another irrationally hoped you'd walk out of the building, like a lovesick teenager who's lost all reason. but eventually, gihun's hand reached for the gear, putting the car in drive, gradually pushing down on the peddle.

those two weeks were a stilled, prolonged goodbye. your face and muscles felt heavy as if you were already in mourning, but your brain remained defiant. he's too stubborn to let those people kill him. you told yourself, pouring creamer into your coffee at work. he's not stupid enough to die. the later half of october rolled out. with each passing day, you slowly lost the strength to cross out the dates on the calendar in his room. gihun would be a fool to not see the growing cynicism that deepened your eye bags, the perpetual frown on your face during dinner, or the avoidance of eye contact. you woke up too easily these days, gihun often hearing your shower head long before your alarm went off. he wasn't sure if you even set an alarm anymore, but it was enough to deduce you weren't getting much sleep. what was once a witty back-and-forth when reviewing the day's plans for his recruits, became a subdued, one-sided conversation where you looked at the whiteboard with an unreadable expression, offering a monotone "sounds good" in the end. as halloween drew closer, your midday texts lessened. gihun reached out—Are you going on lunch soon?—only to come to terms with his hurt upon reading your response: Busy day. I'll see you at dinner. your eyes watered, bottom lip quivering when he texted back: Okay. No problem. you clicked your phone off, turning it face down. you pushed away your half-eaten lunch, losing your appetite. a ragged breath left your diaphragm, tears threatening to leave your waterline. no one else was in the break room, so the consequences of suppressing your emotions thankfully beared no audience. but you felt exposed nonetheless, confronted by the fact that you couldn't bear to lose gihun, but you had no choice.

the motel was eerily silent the night before halloween. the plan was concrete, reviewed ad nauseam over the last couple of weeks. dinner had wrapped a few hours prior, the tupperware packed away in your tote bag hanging on the back of a lounge chair in your room. you didn't dare look at gihun. in fact, your eyes stayed down the entire time, speaking minimally other than to ask to pass a side dish, or offer him more rice. your quivering lips were hidden well behind your utensils, or taking a drink of water. gihun was just as quiet. not passive, but quiet. he didn't muster the courage to say anything. he might not be the most gifted in expressing his emotions, but he was aware enough to read the room and know it wasn't the best time to bring up the inevitable. he knew he couldn't leave you alone. he couldn't, not without saying something.

so there he was, some time past eleven pm, knocking on your door frame. "are you awake?" he asked gently, even if your nightside lamps were on, apparent that you weren't asleep. you peeked over your shoulder. "yes." you answered, returning your temple to your pillow. gihun walked into the room, back facing you as he sat on the edge of your bed. he had enough gall to keep you in his peripheral vision, but fell short of looking at you directly. "what did i tell you about leaving your door open, hm?" he asked, trying to sound sharp, but succumbing to tenderness. "anyone can walk in." "you aren't just anyone, gihun." you said oh so delicately, enough to have him turn his head completely, eyebrows turned up sympathetically. you saw his eyes on you in your periphery, but avoided his gaze, keeping yours on your palm running back and forth along a small spot of the thin duvet.

"i—" gihun reached into his pocket. "i made you a key for the motel." he leaned over to his right, setting it down on your nightside table. "if you ever need anything," he glanced in your direction, the strength to look at you fleeting. "take as much as you want. you know where the room is." you didn't say a word. your palm stilled. his gaze fell to the duvet, too, his hand gliding across the wrinkles. "like i said before," his voice was low. "i don't plan on forgetting you—" "—gihun, stop." you interrupted. "i don't have the strength for this."

silence. he tries again: "i'll come back." he spoke warily. "i'm going to come back." "please." your voice fell to a whisper. "i can't take it." your chin hovered above your chest from the length you went to avoid his eyes. you felt fragile as porcelain, every single utterance of this conversation chipping away at you without remorse. gihun doesn't try again, internally frustrated with how easily he felt defeated. silence wins again, but not for long. he continues tracing the duvet's wrinkles, inching towards to your hand with every swipe. his hand comes closer and closer, until he slows. you watched his fingers gradually hold yours. gihun doesn't apply pressure, but he stays there. he keeps them in his grip when he moves to lay on his side, facing you. "at least look at me." he whispered, pleading. "i can't." you sounded so defeated. his eyes glistened, gripping your fingers properly now. "i can't regret my decision now. not when i'm so close." his eyes shined under the warm-toned light of your lamp. "don't make me regret my decision. please."

your head rose, meeting his eyes. he looked his most familiar: a deep somberness etched in the crevices of his face, his eyes perhaps the most poetic of all. they looked so soft, so gentle; as if a look of malice could never come close to tainting them. he could try his damn hardest, feel the most visceral of anger, but he could never look truly dissatisfied, forever unable to mask his true desire for comfort. for love. a small grin tugged at gihun's lips. "there you are. i missed you." he was barely audible, almost as if he mouthed the words. without thinking, he moved his head onto the pillow, not realising how close you two were until it was too late. it was like a strange instinct, the way he leaned in. he couldn't stop himself; not when the quietest of gasps escaped between your teeth, or his heart thumping so harshly his chest felt it was going to burst, or when his lips hovered admittedly awkwardly above yours. the kiss was light, almost nonexistent, until gihun leaned forward a little more. the tip of his nose brushed past yours, bringing his lips against yours wholly. his nose lightly dipped into your cheek when he kissed you again. before you could show any semblance of reciprocity, gihun abruptly pulled away.

"i'm sorry." he said. "i shouldn't have ... i shouldn't have done that. i'm sorry—" "—it's okay." you shook your head, panicking slightly. you slipped your fingers out of his grip, using them to make him look at you. "come here." you say. he follows, molding his lips with yours once again. the kiss was one of fervor; relocating misplaced frustration into that of palpable yearning; two souls who came together by chance after decades past; an atomic understanding of each other's pain, yet accepting you'll never truly know what's its like to live the other's life; a long-awaited embrace of the unknown, succumbing to the desire—no, the need to be loved.

gihun's lips felt soft, contrasting with his stubble rubbing against your chin and upper lip. it made you pull him closer, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, eyebrows turning upward at the sound of your muffled whimper. your hand left his face, taking his hand and laying his palm atop your clothed breast. he took the hint, kneading it with just the right amount of firmness, but not without moaning lowly into your mouth. his pointer and middle fingers pulled the collar of your sweater down, breaking the kiss mind-numbingly slowly before trailing down to your neck, past your double chin, settling on the faint stretch marks adorning your shoulder. your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, an encouraging hand in his hair as your chest nearly collided with his, back arched in bliss.

you brought yourself back down to earth, hand reaching past his chest, undoing his belt. you scrambled to undo the button and zipper, escaping into his briefs. gihun let out a guttural moan into your warm skin, embarrassingly (to him) hard in your hand, breathing hard through your slow strokes. "h—h-ha ... h—ngh!" he tried to contain himself by peppering kisses onto your skin, but ended up bucking his hips up into your soft palm. you fastened your pace, fingers wrapped securely around his girthy cock, his precum wetting your hand. gihun shuddered, mouth agape and face burrowed into your clothed chest, fingers limp on your shoulder. you bit your bottom lip as you continued your ministrations, thighs rubbing together for any sort of friction. a whimper rattled out of his diaphragm when you began pumping only his tip. "i'm g-gonna pass out!" he whined. he gasped sharply when he felt something stir in his abdomen. "n-no, no—w-wait!" he suddenly moved, laying his head next to yours on the pillow. "w-wait! s-stop! i'm—" his body reacted before he did. gihun's nose brushed against your cheek, his mewls and grunts making your eyebrows knit together in a fit of awe and sexual drive you hadn't felt in years. hot spurts of cum coated his briefs and your inner wrist. you gradually came to a halt, overhearing his labored breathing.

you leaned in, softly reconnecting your lips. even in his clouded haze, gihun kissed back with intent. his hand found the hem of your pants, leaning closer to you, your free hand holding his cheek, deepening the kiss. you turned your head towards the ceiling with a sharp inhale, effectively breaking the kiss, however, when his fingers dipped between your folds. goosebumps arose on your arms underneath your sleeves, a soft hiss brewing between your teeth. "your hand is cold." you whispered. his nose pushed against your cheek, lips pressing chaste kisses onto your supple skin. "i'm sorry." he said. "i can ... i can stop." "no, it's okay. it's okay." you say breathily, closing your thighs around his wrist. gihun's jaw dropped at the sight."it'll warm up. just—just keep going." you tell him. "fuck!" his voice fought so hard to stay quiet, coming out hoarse.

your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. it was only every few swirls of his finger did a small gasp leave your slightly swollen lips, feeling him come closer to your clit than before. gihun was so fucking close to where you needed him to be, but not quite there. his unintentional teasing concocted the subtle yet apparent slosh of your wetness as your puffy lips encased his middle finger. you arched your back a little, hoping it would slip him into place, but to no avail. you reached for his head, fingers slipping into his hair. "gihun," you swallowed, mouth dry. "a little h-higher." "where? here?" his cock was hardening in your hand again, blurring his logic, trailing kisses up to your temple in his misunderstanding. "your hand, gihun. your f-finger." "right, right." he quickly realized. "i'm sorry."

the pad of his middle finger inched higher. the light of heaven was now in your sight. you opened your legs to allow just enough room for his wrist to fulfill your next request: "a l-little deeper, gihun. a little—f-fuck!" your gasp echoed off the walls. your hand left his hair, coming to cover your mouth, eyes barely open to look down at his hand in your pants. your wetness was blatant, the sticky sound making his cock stiffen and your vision blur. "g-gihun!" you whimpered, feeling him rubbing unrelentingly your sweet bundle of nerves. every swipe tightened the muscles of your inner thighs, toes curling in your socks. "k-keep going! keep going!" you pleaded helplessly, voice stuck at a whisper.

gihun pressed his forehead against your temple, eyes cast below with no intent of looking away. "f-fuck." he muttered under his breath, mouth agape at how he worked you. his mind became mush, marveling over your warmth and intoxicating softness. "please." he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut at the thought of how you would feel wrapped around him. his shame made him feel juvenile, embarrassed by how his thoughts were as sexually erratic when he was 21 to his now 51, but not enough to stop him from grinding his cock into your loosened grip. "p-please," he whispered to himself. "god almighty—hngh!"

you began pumping him again, your other hand going back into his hair, turning your head and kissing his lips. it was one of newfound hunger; quick yet deep; quiet but stuttered through moans and hushed whimpers. suddenly, a knot formed in your abdomen, threatening to unravel. you broke the kiss. "i'm close." your tone was so vulnerable, like you would trust him with the world. gihun opened his eyes, taking in how beautiful you looked under the lamplight, the sheerest coat of sweat glimmering off your skin. "are—ngh!—a-are you?" you asked. he felt your breath brush against his cheeks, his forehead atop yours, nodding. "y-yes. we can finish together. c'mon." he kissed your cheek and your temple. "o-okay," you said breathily, head turning towards the ceiling, feeling his lips rest against your skin. "i trust you."

before gihun could register it, you unraveled. your moans were so delicate, so gentle, descending into shudders rattling out of your chest; back arching, eyebrows turned upward in ecstasy. "i—i!" you whimpered, the feeling of his finger continuously circling your clit through your unimaginable orgasm making your sinuses loosen, tears prickling even in your tightly shut eyes. "yes! yes! y-yes!" you chanted like a prayer, pumping him whilst you rode out your high. gihun was an incoherent mess through his second orgasm, his sweaty forehead sticking to your cheek, spilling onto your wrist in finality. he felt depleted of all energy, dizzy for those first few moments whilst you laid beside each other in your respective post-orgasmic hazes, your joint-labored breathing outdoing the room's air conditioning unit.

his hand slowly pulled out of your pants, yours slipping from his briefs when he turned to lay on his back. gihun's eyes closed, lulling his heartbeat with every deep breath he took. even though your body had stilled—eyes closed, tongue running over your dried lips; trying to bring yourself back down—something stirred inside of you. your body had its release, but your heartbeat fastened for a reason you did not want to acknowledge. in fact, there could not have been a worse time than now. you hastily wiped the tear that had fallen during your orgasm, your face contorting into a near sob, almost giving in to the reality that you convinced yourself you've long accepted. but you loathed it so much, so viscerally that your temples vibrated with anger; resentment; vitriol, even. all those missed phone calls, lying texts, quiet dinners, avoidant conversations . . . now here you were, suffering the consequences the night before he's set to leave.

am i really going to cry after an orgasm? really? you thought to yourself. you knew it wasn't the truth, but you were internally fighting tooth and nail to not yield to the suffocating devastation consuming your lungs like smoke at the moment; breath stuttering through your nostrils, chest convulsing whilst you held back the tears. but then, you felt his hand ghost past yours when he fixed his posture in bed. all hell broke loose.

gihun's eyes widened when he heard you cry. his hand did not hesitate to ride up your arm; a firm, yet gentle tug at your shoulder in an attempt for your attention. "hey," he spoke softly. "what happened? is everything okay?" you cried even harder, bringing your hand to your mouth. gihun's knuckles wiped what he could reach, turning on his side to face you. his big brown eyes looked to you with the same devastation your body was currently expelling. "was it something i did?" he whispered tragically. he was afraid he overstepped a boundary tonight, the intensity of it all hitting you suddenly. but that couldn't be farther from the truth. if only you could stop crying to tell him.

you turned to look at him, pawing weakly at his chest to somehow ground yourself enough to speak. the attempt proved to be worthless, the warmth of your tears lulling you into a state of incoherence. gihun's hands came up, holding either side of your face. "what is it?" his voice was low, laced with concern and perpetual shame. "what happened, hm? you can tell me." he encouraged, fingers wiping your fresh tears, palm softly encasing your cheek afterward. "i can't stand to see you like this. please, tell me."

"i-i'm so sorry i've been so distant!" you exclaimed, your tears added an unintended tone of urgency. you looked into his eyes, shaking your head. "i'm so sorry i've b-been so mean!" "no—" gihun dismissed gently, pulling you into his chest. he wrapped his arms around you; one hand smoothening your hair, the other holding onto your hip. "it's okay. you have nothing to apologize for." he meant every word. gihun never once questioned why you acted the way you did. he's anticipated this from the moment he asked for your number that early afternoon several months ago. out of all the unpredictable variables that have unfairly cast themselves into the trajectory of his life, he could always count on his selfishness to rear its ugly face in the end. whether it be debt, addiction, or hurting the ones he loved—he bears the consequence. but some part of this makes it feel worth it, as murky as it is. "it's okay. it's okay." he hushed your cries. gihun kissed your temple tenderly. "there is nothing to be forgiven." he told you when your tears subsided, holding onto you even tighter. "you haven't done anything wrong."

after a while, you slowly sat up. gihun too, albeit cautiously, watching you wipe underneath your eyes with the back of your hand. you let out a long breath, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "i've always been such an ugly crier." you muttered. gihun exhaled through his nose, grinning. "i can never predict what's going to come out of your mouth next. no matter how hard i try." you grew flustered, an upside down grin tugging at your lips. "you missed thirty years of my life." you said. "of course you'd be a little lost."

gihun couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. comfortable silence washed over the room. your palm began to swipe back and forth on the duvet again, but your eyes were on him. avoidance wasn't in the realm of possibility anymore. it hurt, but you felt ready. "you can't die, gihun." you spoke, voice quiet, as if volume would shatter the sanctity of your oath. you looked at him as if you were the only two beings on the entire earth. "i have more food to make." his gaze did not waver. "i won't." he responded, equally gentle. "i have more to eat."

two days later, you unlocked the door, stepping into your apartment. you kicked your shoes off without a moment's hesitation, setting your purse down on the kitchen counter. the rustle of the plastic bag in your hand almost overshadowed the vibration in your pocket. fishing your phone out, you rolled your eyes at the work email notification. something regarding an ongoing project, or an upcoming meeting—you could have cared less. "it's nine fucking pm. are they this incompetent?" you muttered as you walked to the living room, clicking your phone off and setting it down on the coffee table.

the plastic bag, surprisingly, was not filled with fresh vegetables and your other go-to ingredients, but takeout. you untied the knot, opening the styrofoam containers filled with freshly-cooked fried chicken and tteokbokki, respectively. "shit," you said to yourself, getting up from the couch and scurrying to the fridge, bringing back a can of sprite to accompany the meal. you ignored the cabinet housing your tupperware, not even permitting your oven, which stored your pots and pans, in your peripheral vision. for now, and for your sanity, they were dead to you.

you ate your meal in silence. the crunch of the chicken, chewiness of the rice cake, and the fizzing of your soda kept you company. your phone lit up with emails, the news, reminders to pay bills, your paycheck hitting your bank account; you didn't waver. you did what you vowed to do for the next days, weeks, or maybe the next thirty years: waiting. for something. anything.

honey's taglist! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten

[leclarifies]

THE NUMBER YOU HAVE DIALED IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE (LN4)

꒰ lando norris x ex!reader ꒱

synopsis┊in which lando keeps dialing your number even after you've changed it.

genre┊angst (im not sorry)

word count┊ 2.1k

aria yaps┊remember how i broke ur hearts with carlos sainz angst for my first fic about him? YEAH HERE'S THE LANDO VERSION!!!!!!!! i know yall love it either way so, enjoy reading! very short btw, i just wanted to put something out for today

"where did we go wrong? i know we started out all right. where did we go wrong? i swear i knew we'd last this time." - lany, "13"

it takes three rings.

then he hears that stupid automated voice again, "the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected, please try—"

"for fuck's sake."

after he ends the attempted call, the furious typing is apparent in the empty, dark room. the artificial keyboard clicking fills the room as he tries his best to reach her. it's futile really, with every text he sends, the more agitated he becomes.

he knew that he shouldn't do this, that she was probably trying her best to move on, but he couldn't. he couldn't let her slip away from his grasp so easily.

"i just want you here for my races, is that so hard to ask for?" lando sounded desperate, he was desperate. he was a guy who needed his girlfriend and it didn't help that his girlfriend couldn't be there with him when he needed it the most, especially at times like these.

she was tired, he could tell, he didn't want to turn this into an argument but he was going to base it off of how she was going to respond, "lando, i can't. you know this. i have family here that i need to support, i can't just quit—"

"i'm not asking you to quit, i'm asking you to come just when you can," lando ruffled his hair so hard that it hurt, "the races are on weekends— for fuck's sake! why can't you just listen to me and actually hear what i'm saying?"

"i am listening! you're not listening to me!" she had tears in her eyes now, he hated it. he hated when he got riled up like this. it wasn't her fault, he knew it but he wanted her around him at least every few races, he hadn't been able to see her on the paddock at all this year and it pained him.

an exasperated sigh leaves his lips and he tries calling again, he knows she's not gonna pick up. he knows that he's probably blocked everywhere, but he wants to try. he wants to talk. he just wanted to fix things.

"the number you have dialed is—"

the next thing he heard was his phone shattering against the wall after he threw it across the room.

it was only two days later when he got a new phone and tried again, it wasn't going to go through. he knew it, but he just wanted to try. he wanted to show her that he was willing to make a compromise with her, just to make sure that she was there for him.

he didn't understand why he raised his voice so easily when it came to her, maybe because emotions ran high and he didn't know what else to do to express himself. he didn't know. all he knew was that he was a selfish prick and he deserved all of this.

he tried again.

"the number you have dialed is cu—"

he wanted to smash that brand new phone into the wall like its predecessor but he held himself back, he knew that the money that was needed to buy him a new phone was priceless to him, he was a formula one driver. it was pennies to him. all that money and he couldn't keep the most priceless thing to him, her.

he didn't care how selfish it sounded, or how convoluted their issues were. he just wanted her here, to hug, to kiss, to just comfort him. he had so many things on his mind right now and it could've been solved just by a simple touch and kiss to the forehead.

he was losing his mind and he knew it.

something akin to a sob bubbles from his throat when he hears the automated voice again.

"the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected, please try again later."

he fucked up, he knows now. she didn't have to rub it in his face like this, by changing her number and disappearing off of the face of the earth.

he just wanted to be home.

gentle knocking wakes her up from her slumber, it's unusual to get guests at this hour and on top of that, she wasn't expecting anyone. a huff escapes her lips as she gently takes the covers off of her and sits up on the bed. the knocks become more persistent as she begrudgingly gets up from her comfortable bed.

at first, she contemplates whether she should open the door or not but she opens it against her better judgement, her eyes widening when she realizes who it was.

"lando, what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be in aus—"

she gets engulfed in a hug before she could even utter another word.

inhaling her scent after so long had been a breath of a fresh air for lando, he missed her. she's confused on how lando even knows where she lived. she had moved out of her last flat to avoid him on purpose, and now he's here, when he's supposed to be all the way in australia getting ready for a race.

his hug wasn't reciprocated, unfortunately for him.

"lando—" she was cut off by her ex standing in front of her, his eyes were glassy, puffy, like he had been crying all the way from australia to here.

"i just wanted to see you, that's all."

"we broke up two months ago, you can't just show up in front of my flat like this."

"i know but—"

"there aren't any buts lando, didn't me changing my number make it clear to you?" she folded her arms in front of her chest, her hair was still a mess from sleep and she was in pajamas, but her eyes were nowhere near his, not wanting to have any type of eye contact.

lando could only look down on the ground in embarrassment, he knew it was wrong. he knew he shouldn't have asked her friends where she lived, all of them had turned down his questions, telling him that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore but it wasn't anything a little persistence couldn't solve.

"is that all? you have a race to catch," she didn't even give him the chance to speak before trying to close the door on his face, but he blocked it with his foot, he wanted to talk. to fix things. he knew that things were irreparable but he wanted to try.

lando pushes the door open, despite her insistence of not letting him in, "i want to fix things, love—"

"there's nothing to fix lando, we're done. we've been done. what part of done do you not understand?" she was on the verge of tears, she didn't want to end it with lando, no, not at all but she felt that it was best for the both of them, she couldn't provide him with what he needed and he couldn't with her either, so it was best to just separate because why be in a relationship when you don't feel the love?

her eyes were still on the floor, not even daring to look up at lando's. it hurt for her too of course, just throwing away their year-long relationship out the window when the beginning of their relationship was so lovely, but now all there was is resentment and she didn't want that in her relationship.

lando couldn't utter anything out his mouth, he was stuck in place by her words. he let himself in earlier after he pushed the door open, he gently closed the door behind him before sighing, "we didn't even talk about it, you just decided for yourself that you didn't want to be apart of this anymore, you didn't even wait until my race ended before i could respond. how can i let it go?"

she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked out the window, still refusing to look at lando, because she knew that if she did, she would start crying, "you just do lando. sometimes break-ups aren't always mutual, sometimes it's one person who doesn't want to be in a relationship anymore. it takes two to tango."

lando tousled with his hair, what could he say to that? she wasn't wrong. she couldn't deny the hurt and sadness that was in his green eyes, she hated that she made him feel that way but they were nothing. they've been broken up. by definition, they didn't have anything to do with eachother anymore, but she still had that care inside of her heart for him. after all, it had only been two months.

"just hear me out, and by the end of tonight, if you don't want to see me anymore, i'm gone. i won't try to contact you anymore," lando gave an ultimatum and she was fine with that, because she knew well that whatever he said, she would still say no.

she sat down on her couch, patting the space next to her to at least give him some sort of hospitality, wanting to hear him out even though she was steadfast in her decision.

"i won't bug you to come to my races anymore, i'll even help you with helping your family—"

"you can't throw money at this problem, lando."

"i'm not throwing money at it, i'm just saying that it's an option and you can take it if you feel like you need it," lando's voice was always pleading— begging for her to hear him out. he wasn't that type of guy, never. all of his exes got the same type of treatment, if they said that they were done, then lando wouldn't even bother.

he was a formula one driver, he didn't have the time.

but for her, he did.

she looks up, her arms still folded in front of her chest, legs curled up beneath her as she tries to find a comfortable position in an uncomfortable situation. glancing at the clock on the coffee table, it read in bright red neon numbers that it at 4:27 am, far too early or late for him to be here.

"we've had a similar conversation before, and i refused. so i'm refusing again," she sighs before meeting lando's eyes for the second time tonight, "i don't understand why you would want to keep this relationship. it doesn't benefit you for dating a poor girl."

"do you really think i care about your financial status?" lando asked, almost if it the thought of him caring about his (ex)girlfriend's financial status was ridiculous. he didn't care, it's the way she made him feel for the entirety of last year. she made him feel whole, like even if the world was against him, she would still be there.

she was used to men coming into her life who could think that they could "save" her and lando was no different to all of those other men. sure, she was definitely struggling trying to pay for her younger siblings education while working and pursuing her degree at the same time but that doesn't mean she was a damsel in distress and she expressed that to lando.

lando closed his eyes in frustration, "no, i didn't mean it like that—"

"well you sure as hell worded it like that," she looks away from him yet again, refusing to meet his eyes again until he had to leave. her eyes were glued to the window that overlooked the city, it was beautiful, calming— peaceful even, "i'm not changing my mind lando, we're worlds apart. i don't need you helping me, i can take care of myself."

with that, lando bit his lip and she ushers him out of her flat.

it had been months since lando's seen her, but he never forgot. he couldn't. the way she smelt, the way she laughed, everything still stuck in his brain as he continued his career.

the world didn't revolve around him, so the show must go on.

calling her old number had also become routine, almost an obsession. every finish, every weekend, anything that had to do with his career, lando would try and call her and tell her how his races were going, as if he wasn't talking to an automated robot on the other end of the line. the automated voice was practically his best friend because he's heard the damn voice so many times.

"the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected. please try again later."

and try again later he would.

he didn't understand himself, was it an obsession or was it the comfort that it gave him when he dialed her number? he didn't know. but sometimes he would hold up that phone to his ear and talk as if she was on the other end of the line, even though lando knew that there was no one waiting on the other line for him, not anymore.

but, the show must go on, right?

[thewulf]

Time is of the Essence || Legolas

Summary: Request - Heyy I was wondering if I could request a Legolas imagine where gimli tells the reader that Legolas likes them, maybe before a battle. Then throughout the battle they are distracted or thinking about what gimli said. Then after the battle the reader goes to tell Legolas that they feel the same or something like that :)

A/N: This one got away from me lmao but I had so much fun writing it. THANK YOU for all the requests. Wouldn't be here without each and every one of you!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.3k +

TW: General LOTR triggers, blood, talk of death, shooting, stabbing etc

“Who is that?” Asking quickly your eyes snapped up to the dark-haired twin standing tall next to you. His eyes turned to see the prince from Mirkwood ascending the steps to meet his father, Lord Elrond.

Elladan smirked at your curiosity. For in all the years he had known you, you had never so much given another ellon the time of day. Your interests always seemed to lie elsewhere, until now it seemed, “That is Legolas Thranduilion. Prince of Mirkwood.” He spoke lowly so only you could hear.

Elladan watched as your eyes seemed to be captured by him. You watched as he walked up the marble staircase leading to Elrond before turning back to him, “Prince?” You attempted to bite back the discontent at that one word for you would never have a chance with someone of such stature.

He nodded slowly, “As I remember. It has been a few hundred years since we have had an actual conversation. King Thranduil has Legolas all over middle earth bidding for Mirkwood.”

“Very well.” Turning your attention back to the woodland elf your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets seeing that he was staring right at you. A soft smile graced his lips as he caught your eye. He had far more courage than you as you turned back to Elladan swiftly with an evident burning on your cheeks.

He snickered softly knowing that every single one of them could hear if he laughed or talked any louder. You elbowed his side trying to get him to quiet down. The last thing you wanted was even more attention on your party of two. Lord Elrond had asked you and his son, Elladan, to receive the guests of the Council of Elrond as they arrived.

You had been taken in by Elrond and his family after your mother and father were called to the sea nearly a thousand years ago. You were a relatively young elf, just over five hundred years old, when your parents had decided it was their time to go.

You had tried to assure them that you would be just fine being alone. You were young but you were still an adult. They wouldn’t go until they knew you’d be taken care of as you didn’t have any siblings to lean on. Your closest kin resided in Lothlorien, a place you had no desire to go even though they begged. But Rivendell was your home, and you had no desire to leave it behind.

Celebrian had always wanted more children but could bare no more. She had heard of your parents predicament from her many visits throughout the city. See, most elves were natural gossips, so it was not even like she had to ask for it. It was just given to her. So, she decided it was time for her to act on it. It felt natural for her to take you in with her, Elrond, and the children. Then she met you and just knew you would fit right in with their family. You were moved into their home no longer than a month later and your parents had set sail the very next one.

No ill will was held toward your parents. You could only imagine how long their lives had been as they had only told you the bits they wished to divulge. They had decided to have you late in life. After nearly four thousand years. They had no plans on leaving you that soon, but the call was so strong they could no longer ignore it for the Valar had its reasons. It was a great sacrifice to stay is middle earth when the sea was calling so longingly. You could no longer be selfish as you were plenty capable of living on your own. Being taken in by Elrond and his family was a gift upon itself, you’d flourished under their eye. You had nearly mastered the art of healing in the one thousand years you’d been under his instruction.

After your parents left, not a hundred years later Celebrian had found the same calling. It broke your heart all over again watching Elrond and his children, your dear friends, let go of their wife and mother. You had almost felt guilty thinking your parents departure had something to do with hers. The calling must have been strong if she was willing to leave her entire family behind. You had thought maybe they would cast you aside now the Celebrian, the one who had wanted you the most, had gone. The opposite was true though. They held onto you stronger than ever before. Sooner, they were more your family than your own. Later, you’d lived with them longer than your parents. New memories with Elrond, Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan began to overtake those of with your parents.

“Prince Legolas.” Lord Elrond’s voice brought your eyes back to the top of the stairs instead of at Elladan, “Rivendell is most welcome to host your visit for the Council of Elrond.” On cue you bowed to the revered prince. You’d heard nothing but good things of him. Nobody spoke of how handsome he was though. Striking in the best ways. You should have known he would be of that stature after seeing his father, King Thranduil in passing once. That as an intimidating elf if you had ever of seen one.

“Hir nin (my lord).” Legolas bowed back to him, “It is always most welcome to visit Rivendell.” To your horror he looked right at you before continuing loud enough for all to hear, “I have met your son, Elladan. Who might the lady be?”

Your face must have been aflame by now with all the attention keyed in right on you, “Ah, that is my youngest daughter. Lady Y/N.” You’d so rarely been referred to as his daughter it had caught you off guard. For whom else might you be? Everybody in Rivendell knew of your status why should he not claim you for his own? He had known you and cared for you well-being longer than your very own parents had.

He smiled hearing your name on the Lord’s lips, “Youngest daughter? Have I been so distant I did not know you had another daughter?”

Elrond smiled looking over to you. Trying your very best to remain stoic you were sure your father could see right through it, “My daughter has been mastering the craft of healing.” He turned back to Legolas before muttering something in his ears that he did not let you hear no matter how hard you strained to. Maybe Elladan caught it but he just shook his head at you as you looked over to him.

Legolas turned giving you another bright smile. He bowed right at you before walking over, “It is a pleasure, Lady Y/N.” He was much bolder than all the ellon you had met in Rivendell.

You let out a strangled cough. One that your brother knew was one of sheer panic. He let out another chuckle which meant another elbow was sent right to his ribs, “All the same Prince Legolas.”

His smile was something you had rarely seen in an elf. It was so pure. One that made you want to smile right along with him. What was it? What with you? Why was this ellon making you act like a fool? You needed to get it together and quick. Elrond would see right through your little coy act. He was far from dumb. Perhaps the opposite. He was the smartest elf you had ever met. It was impossible to try and get a leg up on him as he was already ten steps ahead.

“Legolas is fine, Lady Y/N.”

You nodded quickly, “Then I must insist, Y/N is fine as well.”

“Indeed, it is. Y/N.” He spoke to you before turning his eyes towards your brother behind you, “Elladan. It is nice to see you once more. I trust Elrohir is faring well?”

“He is well, Legolas. He is away seeing to personal matters in Minas Tirith at the moment or else he would be here.” Elladan turned serious as the prince’s eyes were on him now.

“That is not a worry. It is good to hear he is doing well. Elladan. Y/N.” He bowed to you once more before turning and walking back to Elrond, clapping him on the back like they were old friends. You were sure they actually were. You’d never been privy to life outside of Rivendell. You’d also never really cared. You never needed to. Not until things started turning dark. Suddenly you had to care about everywhere but Rivendell. Elrond sent you on small quests at first. Then longer and harder ones. You had no idea what he had planned next, but you were sure it was going to be big considering what was happening with Sauron. He tried to keep it quiet, but you heard whispers. It was an impossible darkness to hide.

The next few days went the same as the last. You’d received a few humans from Gondor, Boromir, and his crew. He was as funny a human as you had ever met and crass as ever. You quite enjoyed him. Next up were the dwarves and the harsh stares you received from Gimli and his kin. The dwarves were no fans of your elven kind. You had already met Strider and the four Hobbits to which you had taken quite the liking to towards as well. You’d never received so many different people and creatures from across middle earth and you were having a wonderful time. Elrond had suspended your studies while the council was in session leaving you to wander during the daytime on your own free will.

You had taken to shooting your bow trying to get in as many reps before all out war commenced. Elrond would never admit it, but it was coming. You could sense it. Things had never been so cold and dark as long as you had been in middle-earth. Lord Elrond had all but admitted it had not been this bad since Sauron came around the first-time thousands of years ago.

Being wrapped up in your thoughts your senses had betrayed you. The Prince of Mirkwood had snuck up on you. A usually impossible task that was easier as you had been distracted by your very own thoughts, “Raise your arm a little.” He spoke from beside you. Letting the breath, you’d been holding in out you turned to him lowering your bow in the process.

“Legolas. What are you doing here?” He was indeed the last person you had expected to see. He had been locked in your fathers study for the better part of the week. He was a part of the strategizing crowd not even your brothers were privy to. Elrond had done a masterful job of hiding his children away. He had no desire to put you in harm’s way on the front lines. But even as he tried he could no longer hold you back.

He shrugged giving you the eye as your bow was still loaded in your hand. You pulled the arrow into the quiver connected at your hip in a hurry before slinging the bow itself over your shoulder, “Needed some time away. Things were getting a little personal in there.” He smiled but it wasn’t the bright smile you’d seen on his face prior. It had been dulled.

“So, you come to the practice range?” You asked curiously. Knowing so little of the elf you knew you were digging for something hoping he would give you a little more.

“Exactly, my lady.” He grinned holding his hand out for your bow.

“Y/N.” You corrected him not liking how that sounded. Far too mature for your stature.

He gave you a lazy smile, “That is right. Exactly, Y/N.” He kept his hand out waiting for you to hand him the bow. Slowly you pulled it off you back and handed it to him. To your surprise he started inspecting it. You’d felt terribly self-conscious as you had crafted it far too quickly. It was just your practice bow after all and it was one of your first attempts.

“This is lovely.” He grinned over at you as he held his other hand for your arrows. To which you gave him as you were now far too curious to see how this prince would do. He was nothing short of a whispered fear around Rivendell. The stories your brothers have told of him made you far too curious of the blue-eyed elf.

“That is a lie.” You laughed.

He shook his head, “It is fine work. I, myself, could hardly do better.” You watched as his hands traced your woodworking. You were not overly proud of the piece. In fact, you’d all but thrown it away finding yourself frustrated at not being able to carve in the finer details as you had planned. Eventually, after a few too many attempts you’d succeeded at getting the right shape but gave up on the detail.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” You questioned letting him know it was you who had made the bow.

He looked over at you curiously, “Did you make this?” Asking as if he didn’t quite believe you he waited for your response.

“I did indeed.”

He looked you over once more before trying the bow out himself. You’d heard of how good he was, but it was hard to believe until you had seen it. In a matter of seconds, he had not only shot all of your arrows but had placed them perfectly around your target. It was more than impressive. Wood elves were known for their skills with the bow, but this was nothing like you had ever seen. Not even your bow master could keep up with something like this.

He turned back to you with an even bigger smile on his face, “It shoots even better than it looks! You have a talent.”

You gawked at him without so much as a care of how dumb you looked, “You just shot like that, and you are saying that I have the talent?”

“Aye.” He set the bow down before heading over to retrieve the arrows. He looked back waiting for you to follow, “This would not be possible if your work was not as balanced as it is. I must ask you to make my next bow. I will pay you handsomely for your work.” He spoke as if money was the issue with his request.

“Oh!” Your cheeks were surely there usual fiery hot selves as they usually were when Legolas had come around, “I hardly doubt I could make…”

He shook his head cutting you off, “You must not doubt yourself. I would not ask you to if I did not think you could.”

You nodded knowing there was no actual point in arguing with him. He was as stubborn as you were and nobody was going to win the fight that was surely going to ensue, “All right then. I will make you a bow. On one condition.”

“And that condition is?” His smile only seemed to grow as he talked to you. It’s infectiousness wearing off right on you for how could you not grin when he was smiling at you like that?

“You do not pay me. Let me make it for you as a friend?”

He nodded, “That is a condition I can accept. As long as you let me return the favor?”

You giggled feeling his eyes wash over yours in bliss at your reaction, “You cannot give me a condition for my very own condition!”

“Please?” He asked with such a softness you could only nod at him.

“You may return the favorite, mellon nin.”

The two of you had spent the better part of the afternoon chatting, laughing, and avoiding the reality of the situation of the world at present. You had one of the best afternoons you probably ever have had in this lifetime goofing around with the prince. He was certainly not the ellon you’d expected. He had become more than you could have ever had imagined and more.

It did not take long for you to fall for the prince. After Elrond had volunteered you for The Fellowship you had grown close to him. About halfway through the journey, after Pippin and Merry had been taken and you’d been running for days is when you knew. That was when you knew you had feelings for the elf. The signs had always been there, but it was his constant care and checking up to make sure that you were all right that made you realize where your heart had actually lied with the elven prince.

It was decidedly not a good position to be in. He could never be with you. The king would never approve. You would be left longing and loving for an elf who was strictly off limits. The journey to Mordor had been nothing short of rough. You were constantly amazed and astonished at Gimli and Aragorn keeping up, the Hobbits trail, the wizard coming back. It was almost too much too believe. When Aragorn rose from the dead in Helm’s Deep you could not believe it. That was why you had decided to fight. For him and middle earth.

“What are you doing?” Legolas looked at you desperately as you placed the chain-link guard around your torso.

“Preparing.” You spoke matter of factly not noticing Gimli behind him.

“For what?” He asked. For what? Was he mad? Playing dumb surely.

The look on your face let him know you were not playing, “The battle, Legolas. I will not let you all go out there without me. Not once more while I sit behind. I am more than ready and far more than prepared.”

“You will not. I will not have you go out there. You must stay back and tend to the wounded. Your skills are needed here!” For the first time Legolas sounded frantic. Out of control. Worried as if he knew you would go against his wishes. He was right, of course. Legolas had gotten to know you well over the course of the journey from Rivendell. He’d learned of your ticks and habits. Your nature and goodwill. How your morals had outweighed your better judgment for yourself. He’d learned why Elrond had hidden you for so long. You’d be a danger onto yourself more so than he could protect you.

You shook your head slowly, “My skills are needed in the battle and even you know that ernil nin (my prince).” Looking down you were almost afraid to look into his eyes at this moment.

He walked up to you before whispering a low, “We are not done discussing this, mellon nin.” Though his words were kind his tone was off. You gulped. But before you could even open your eyes the prince had stormed off. Likely to cool down. He’d made it clear he didn’t want you anywhere near the field yet here you were doing everything he wished you wouldn’t do.

When you finally looked up you saw the cheeky smirk of the red-haired dwarf staring right at you, “Gimli.” You bowed, “How long have you been standing there master dwarf?”

“The entire time.” He confirmed, “You have given our favorite elf quite the scare.”

You eyed him knowing that he was digging and pressing for something, “He will come to his senses.”

“Or you must come to yours.” He countered with a wicked smile. One that made you feel like you were missing out on something.

“What is that supposed to mean Gimli?”

He gruffed at you, “You cannot be that blind! I was lead to believe elves have some weird, enhanced vision or something.”

“There is no need to be so hostile young dwarf.” You smiled at Gimli letting him know you were surely playing along with him even though you were clueless to what he was actually insinuating, “I unfortunately do not know what you are attempting to tell me though.”

He shook his head with a swift movement, “The Prince of Mirkwood has feelings for you lassie.”

Simply blinking your eyes, you surely could not have heard him correctly, “Has feelings?”

He rolled his eyes, “Aye... are you going to make me come outright with it then?”

You nodded, "I am indeed. Elves are blunt and I am unfortunately very oblivious.” You smile only grew as he huffed and puffed almost looking embarrassed to have to say it out loud.

“The Prince of Mirkwood likes you lassie. He will not stop bringing you up whenever you are not around. He is driving me mad. Gold sickness isn’t even this bad.” As your cheeks grew a blush so did Gimli’s.

It was obviously all in good fun to tease him but what he had actually said struck a chord within you. How was that possible? He was actual royalty. You were a commoner for all intents and purposes, “He cannot.” You said not letting your hopes rise for you had liked Legolas deeply. From the moment your eyes laid upon him in your home all those days ago. What an adventure you had been on as you trekked across middle earth with the ellon you may have loved.

“Oi lassie! He can and he does. Did you not just see his reaction to you going into this battle?”

You shook your head, “Well, yeah but…”

“No. He likes you. Very much so. Drones on and on about how pretty you are. How smart you are. How sweet you are. It is exhausting Y/N.” Gimli dramatically sat down on the bench near the wall.

“I should be offended you find talking about me so exhausting master Gimli.” You raised your brows to challenge him as you sat down next to him.

“Nary the case my lady. It has been months you see. And he will not say a thing to you. Months of it lassie! You are lovely. He would be quite lucky to have you. I am simply tired. He will not listen to me. That is why I am telling you this now.” You only gave you a smirk as he leaned his head against the wall.

“Months is not a long time for an elf.” You giggled knowing how much it would set the poor dwarf off. He was almost too easy to poke and prod at. A simple action would result in an explosive reaction out of him.

He eyes lowered in on yours, “Insufferable. The both of ya. Truly meant for him aren’t you?” He got up before giving you a quick bow, “I will see you on the battlefield my lady.”

“I’ll beat both of you this time.” You grinned trying to lighten the darkening mood taking over Helm’s Deep. Time was of the essence now.

“You will not!” He boomed, “I will kill the most orcs!” He walked out of the room before you could object. With a deep breath you finished putting on the chain link armour. You’d wished Elrond would have prepped you a little more as you sheathed your sword. You could do this. You absolutely had to do this. You had to tell Legolas you liked him back. It was rare, to feel the connection you’d felt with him. Truly, time was of the essence.

You had lost him early on in the battle. You were holding Legolas’s hand before you had to dodge away from an axe being thrown. From there on out it was you and yourself against too many orcs to count. Terror began to consume you as you fell back in the crowd of men and elves. But you could do this. You had to do this. Legolas liked you! You could have a life with the most handsome ellon you had ever laid your eyes upon. You just had to kill every single disgusting orc around you. Easy. You could do it. For Legolas. For you. For a life you craved.

You hadn’t a clue what overcame you as you fought and fought for hours. You witnessed more death than you ever had in your life as the never-ending siege kept ticking on. You fell back and fought. Fell back and fought. Fight or die. Fight to live on with Legolas. You tried to search for his golden hair as you fought but begrudgingly came up short time and time again. It was only when dawn broke with Gandalf and the Rohirrim showing up did you feel a twinge of hope as the orcs turned to them instead of charging on into Helm’s Deep. You stood on guard as the Rohirrim charged on. It felt like you would collapse from the relief seeing the help pour in. Emotion truly overtook you as you saw that flash of golden hair on the war horse down the bridge. Legolas was alive and well. It was going to be okay. You were going to get to tell him that you liked him.

You watched in awe as the orc army was slain. Some tried to run but were devoured by the very forests that once protected them. Sheathing your sword and throwing your bow over your shoulder you found your way back to the dining hall turned emergency healing ward knowing they would need all they help they could get. You had a lifetime to tell Legolas how you felt, the men and defenders of Helm’s Deep needed you more now.

Despite your own cuts that were too deep to heal quickly you pressed on. Throwing some bandages on the worse ones you rolled up your sleeves and got to work. You were in your element as you ordered people around as efficiently as possible and got to as many men as you could.

But that voice broke your stupor. It always would, “You must give yourself a break.” Legolas. He had found you faster than you would have thought.

You spun around on your heal after patching the man up, “I am fine. These men and elves are not.” Holding out your hand you showed him the growing number of beds that were becoming occupied from small wounds to life threatening ones.

He shook his head agreeing with you, “I know I will not change your mind. But please rest when this is all over?”

You bit back the smile. Ever since you met him he had cared for your wellbeing more than you did, “You have my word.”

He gave you a once over with a frown and concern in his own eyes, “Will you also see a healer when you are done?”

“I am fine Legolas.” You persisted shaking your head before heading to the bed next to the man you’d patched up.

He was hot on your heals not believing you for a second, “You are bleeding through your bandages, mellon nin. Please?” Gimli’s words rang through you as he looked at you wish nothing but pain and concern.

“All right.” You weren’t sure what else to say as you looked over him in return. You really should see a healer but your wounds just felt so miniscule compared to the horror you were seeing now.

He eyed you looking for any lie, “I will check on you tonight to see sure of it.”

“I told you that I would, do you not believe me?” A smile rose to your face as you knew your words took him aback.

“You are stubborn. You will work until you collapse. Of course, I trust you. But I do not trust that you will see through to it.” He grinned seeing your expression clock what he was saying, “I will check in on you tonight in your room. How does that sound?” He tried again asking as if it were a question as you knew it was not. Legolas would be checking in on you whether you agreed with him or not.

He was giving you a chance now. You had to take it, “I will see you tonight.”

He gave you a quick bow before making way towards the door, “Please see a healer soon. And rest.”

“I will. Do not fret Legolas. My help is needed first.”

He nodded, “They are fortunate to have you.” He walked off before you could get another word in. You shook your head getting yourself back in the right headspace to see and heal the gruesome wounds left by the attack.

You kept true to your word as your own energy was depleting rapidly. As soon as the bodies stopped flowing in and you became overly exhausted you finally saw another elven healer who pulled the orc poison from your open wounds and patched you up. Legolas was right, a few too many orc blades had made it impossible for your body to heal them as quickly as it usually would.

You had only been settled in your room after bathing and changing for a few moments before a familiar knock rang out at the door. You had been given a room near the kings chambers for the time being as you were the only female in the company. And who were you to turn down such a luxury after months on the road? Certainly not you.

You opened the door to the smiling elf. He quite literally took your breath away. He was so handsome, “Legolas.”

His eyes traced you overlooking for any signs that you had not in fact taken care of yourself, “You look well.”

You moved to the side to let him know it was okay if he wanted to come in, “I am.”

He sighed bringing your eyes to look into his, “I was so worried when I lost you. I had broken my promise to you.”

All you could think to do was grab for his hand. A small sign of comfort as your laced your fingers into his, “It is not your fault Legolas. You know this. We would have both been struck had I not jumped away.” Giving his hand a soft squeeze, you pulled him in through the door. You didn’t want the prying ears of the company or some random elves hearing the conversation if you could stop it. You knew it was getting vulnerable fast. The adrenaline from the battle had long worn off leaving the raw emotion of what just happened to linger.

He looked down at your fingers intertwining his, “I was so afraid that I… I kept looking for you as the battle wore on but could not find you, I feared…” He could not say the words that kept binding on his tongue as it scared him the most. From the moment he laid eyes on you in Rivendell he too felt that pull you had felt so strongly that same day. He’d lived a couple thousand years and had never seen any ellith quite so striking as you. Legolas had been convinced he would never find the elf he was destined to love.

“I am here. I am alive.” You gave his hand another comforting squeeze you just looked at him. He was closer than he’d been before. The air between the two of you felt electrified as you looked up into his eyes. His blue ones met your own. The concern gave way to the happiness of the first part of this hell being over. As Gandalf had said. The Battle of Helm’s Deep was won but the War for Middle Earth had just begun.

His eyes met your smooth hair, fresh out of the baths, “You have no braids in?” He could not recall a time he had not seen braids laced throughout your hair. He had not known you for a long time, but it seemed jarring to see you without them.

You nodded, “You are correct. This is the first time I’ve had a comb since Rivendell.” You paused unsure of if you wanted to ask the next question or not. It was now or never really. Gimli had assured you he had felt the same, why would he lie?

He spoke before you could ask your question, “I must admit, I am envious.” He tried running a hand through his long, usually silky, hair that had been tangled in the battle.

“You can borrow mine.” You offered up without a second thought, “And uh…” You stopped once more having a hard time getting it out. It was now or never. You’d fought that hard for this. Why was it so hard to spit out?

“What is it?” He nodded, encouraging you along.

You closed your eyes, letting out a long breath, trying your hardest to regain some composure. His hand felt like it was burning in your palm as you decided you just needed to spit it out, “Do you… Would you like to braid it?”

Your ears were trained to pick up upon the slight falter in his breath, you’d managed to take him by surprise for once, “Are you sure? Are you asking me what I believe you are to be asking me?” He looked at you with a gentle desperation you had yet to see on his face before.

“Legolas.” You tried stopping him, but he just continued. Spiraling.

“I, of course, would gladly accept but I need to know if these are your intentions. If what you are asking is true.” He looked concerned that you might not be telling him exactly what he was wishing you were saying.

“Legolas!” You pulled your hand away from his before grasping onto his shoulders above you.

He stopped finally hearing you, “Yeah?”

“I like you. Quite a lot. More than a fellowship member probably should. And Gimli might have told me you were driving him a tad mad at all the mentions of me throughout the months.” Your smile grew as you saw his expression drop into shock. You had decided it was fun to surprise the Prince of Mirkwood. His face was the most precious you had seen it yet as it went through the uncommon emotion of being surprised.

“That dreadful dwarf! He promised he would not tell.” For the second time in a short period, you had seen Legolas in a panicked state. Legolas was best with everything under his control. You had often thrown his plans under fire when you came into the picture though. So often before he would be annoyed but he welcomed it with you.

“Him telling me that got me through it all. If he had not told me you had feelings for me I do not think I would have made it out alive. I was fighting for us. For a future with both of us in it. I know exactly what I am asking you for when I asked you to braid my hair.” You spoke freely for the first time in a while. It had been hard keeping the feelings you felt for him locked down and hidden away as you travelled with the fellowship.

He grinned taking your hand in his this time. He led you to the chair at the desk in the room and had you sit. He stood behind you as he brushed his hands through your hair slowly. You tried you best to fight the shiver and chills that erupted at his touch, “I am honored you asked me to braid you hair. If it was not obvious before, I do feel the same. My dwarf friend seemed to want to tell you that before I could.”

You laughed softly relishing in his touch, “We should thank him. Who knew how much longer we would have pined from afar.”

“I do not wish to give him credit. His head will grow too large.” His nimble hands began braiding small intricate braids in your hair. He’d decided he was going to take his time and make the perfect braid he had never had the patience to do before.

Giggles erupted from you at that. Watching Gimli warm up to both you and Legolas to eventually turning into one of your closest companions had been one of the most unexpected twists from the journey, “It does not feel right picking on him when he isn’t here to blow up on one of us. It is not as fun.”

You could see the grin on his face through the reflection in the mirror above you, “Enough about the dwarf. How are you? Truly?”

You closed your eyes thinking about his question, “I am tired and growing more nervous the closer we get.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud and it felt good getting it off your chest.

He tied an elastic on the last large braid he laid down the center of your hair before letting his hands fall to your shoulders. Just the touch provided a comfort you weren’t sure you could express adequately, “I am keeping my promise. Nothing will happen to you. I will protect you through this. I promise you that.”

You turned your neck to look up towards him, “Thank you. For everything. And the braids.” You ran your hand along his work all too curious to see what it had actually looked like.

He brushed a hand along your cheek, “It is my honor. I should be the one thanking you. You look beautiful as always.”

Relishing in his touch you pushed your face into his hand, “Let’s not tell the rest of them until after this is all over.”

Legolas gave you a hesitant look, “We can try. Gimli will know immediately, and he does not have the quietest tongue.”

“Aye that is true. We shall try then.”

He knelt down to your level so that his eyes were staring right back at you, “Yes we shall. Now come, we must have some dinner and get some rest.” He held his hand out to you after he stood, not giving you another option knowing you would rather just jump into bed and snooze the night away. But Legolas being exactly who he was had made a promise to your father and he would protect you. And now he got the privilege of loving you too. He had no plans of losing this after he had prayed for it for so long.

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[wr-n]

you guys ever think Dust has an aversion to mirrors because he hates being reminded of what he has done? how his eyes are wrong and he has to face his brother's killer?

maybe he envies Classic sans because he feels like he was robbed of everything he could have been.

now hear me out: What if he goes to a classic timeline just so he can watch from afar. He visits often to see his brother alive and well. he watches the other monsters talk and shop and sleep peacefully.

on the off chance he is spotted, he either teleports away or ignores them till they leave him alone. if they persist, he just shoves them away and runs off.

one day he finds out that this sans is dating grillby and oh my god he never knew his envy could reach new heights till now. because he was also in a timeline where he had a bit of a crush on the bartender.

so he watches the two joke and eat and share chaste affections but soon finds himself getting closer and closer. sometimes he wears disguises and sits a booth away or be standing just around the corner to catch some shared puns between the two.

one day grillby bumps into dust and mistakes him for classic, apologizing and asking if he's alright.

flustered and frozen from the shock of actually getting caught, he just stands there as grillby gently ushers him inside the bar.

and dust had every intention of leaving, never coming back to this timeline to find a new one but... he cant seem to pry himself away when grillby gently pulled him into a comforting embrace

all at once, dust realizes how utterly exhausted he is and sinks into their arms. it was... nice.

and he spends his days silently spending a few hours with grillby when sans is with papyrus to check puzzles or working his many jobs. its selfish, he thinks, but sans wont know.

grillby does think its weird that he sees two different moods in his boyfriend. the wild swing between cheezy puns and silent stares. how one never wears his hood and the other always did.

depression, he tries to reason. so he doesnt try to push them to talk - not that he would anyway when he's in his moods.

when he asks him about it on normal days, sans just asks what he's talking about and grillby never questions it again. okay, he's either in denial or just doesnt wanna talk about it.

but one day, dust makes a mistake. while watching tv in grillby's living room, he dozes off and is wracked by terrors in his sleep. and when grillby tries to comfort his fitful sleep, he wakes up and forget where he was, attacking grillby.

its only when grillby talks him down that he sees dust's red eyes and realizes something was deeply wrong.

and... dust vanished.

grillby never saw that side of sans again, though he still feared sans was hiding something from him. what could cause his fluffy boyfriend to lash out like that?

time passed and... one day dust returned. purely out of guilt and... maybe a little curiosity.

he didn't interact again, he had enough with ruining people's lives. but he couldnt help but want to see grillby again. he was so kind to him even if it was only because he was mistaken for his other self.

[ohno-the-sun]

Continuation of the Mad Scientist AU Moon ending

What happens after Y/N returns?

Content Warnings: Horror, animal death, death, blood, body horror

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a month later when I died too. 

When I first left, it felt slow– difficult. Like a bandaid slowly being pulled from loose skin it stung with afterburns. 

I hated it.

More than anything I wanted to stay with Sun, to help him. 

But with every experiment run, with every test and data point analyzed I could only think of him. 

He was strange yes. It was still unnerving how he stuck through the flesh of Sun’s eye, but he was alive. He breathed, he talked, he cared in his own strange way. 

The way he would prance around the lab, curious about every nook and cranny of the place, getting into things he wasn’t supposed to. 

A soft fond ache built in my chest at the memory of him getting into the fertilizer. It took weeks before Sun and I had the lab clean again. 

As I ran my hands through the rubbery flesh of the vines wrapping around my best friend’s head, I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. 

Sun was getting sicker.

As much as he tried to hide it, it was obvious. I could see the way his eyes grew darker and darker with every passing day, how the vines that wrapped around his head became thicker and heavier. 

His movements were slow– deliberate– like one wrong move and he could shatter completely. His starchy clothes hung off of him looser than before. He covered nearly everything now— except his face, but even that was marred with scars from his creation. His skin was taught and thin, I could practically trace the bone structure underneath. 

The most unnerving change though– was in his mind.

Sun was always a bit of a nerd. He had a proclivity for perfection and wasn’t afraid of quickly pointing out inconsistencies. Others found it rude and off-putting but I knew it was his way of showing he cared. He noticed you, he cared about what was right and making sure you knew what that was. He listened with such apt attention it felt like every word from your mouth was inscribed with careful precision. He was so good at contradiction because he cared so much about you, about your thoughts and feelings. 

His wit was sometimes harsh, but it was quick and pointed. 

…

He barely talked now.

Even amid an experiment, on the cusp of maybe finding a cure– he would drift. 

Staring for long periods, no input or interaction would break him out. 

Even when he was present, there was a slow deliberation that wasn’t there before.

He questioned himself– doubted himself. He spoke and acted with such unnatural trepidation, like even he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

And all I could do was stand by and watch as my best friend slowly died.

…

Maybe it was selfish.

Maybe it was wrong. 

But I couldn’t do it anymore.

…

So I left.

…

I don’t know what compelled me to return that day. 

I reasoned there were still things in the lab I needed to pick up, but I knew I was going to have to confront him. I knew I was going to have to see him again. 

I don’t know what I expected when I opened that door. 

But it certainly wasn’t that.

Parasitic vines crept through the whole lab, infecting every achingly familiar corner. 

The place was a complete mess, equipment tipped and shattered, old projects strewn about, and I almost stepped on a dead rodent, its entire body wrapped tightly with vines.  

And then he stepped out. 

The body degraded down only to its bare bones. Foliage and leaves stuck out of every orifice. Vines were wrapped tightly around him, face now just a hollow skull. The bud that had become a sort of eye for him bloomed into an unnerving pattern of petals and leaves.

Though– for some reason– it wasn’t his appearance that took me off guard.

He was still the same Moon that I had left, he seemed almost excited to see me again. Despite the barely functional state of his host he happily stumbled his way to me, leaning down to receive those head scratches he loved so much.

But still that churning in my gut didn’t subside.

I knew Sun was going to die if I left.

Even if I didn’t want to verbalize it before, I still knew deep down. 

No, it wasn’t even Sun’s death that put me off so deeply. 

…

It was the fact that it had only been three days.

I left on the 24th, leaving with only a small box of my old supplies, I knew I was going to need a second trip. I put it off– but I knew it had to happen. 

In only three days Moon had entirely taken over. 

In only three days Sun was dead, with little less than a skeleton left. 

In only three days Moon had entirely outgrown the body, spreading to all corners of the lab with long searching vines. 

…

I did my best to ignore it. 

…

I stayed with Moon.

I knew I couldn’t bring him back to my house so I took care of him in the lab. 

I did my best– I really did. 

I brought him snacks and treats we used to share together, like small salt taffies and caramels. Even if he couldn’t chew them properly anymore he still stuck out small twisting vines to pull apart the sticky things. He reacted with that same sort of fascinated delight. 

But still. 

There was something off. 

The way he would continue to stare even after I gave him all the snacks I had. The way he would push for more until I left. 

When I returned with more food he would tear them apart more forcefully each time. His vines no longer searching, but stabbing through the air until they found their mark. 

The vines continued to grow in the lab, covering more and more of the floor with every passing day. 

The body was getting used less. Before, Moon would attempt to shamble with the corpse and interact with me in the same way as before; begging for pets, playing with my clothes or hair, and even cuddling on my lap. However, more and more often the skeleton would just lie there, only barely moving its head or gesturing with a hand.

I quickly realized Moon wasn’t just in the eye anymore. He had “eyes” everywhere. More and more buds popped up and bloomed into unnerving pits that would track your every move. 

It got to the point where the room itself felt alive. Vines twisting and pulsating over the floor and walls. It got to the point where I could barely walk in the room without accidentally stepping on a vine. 

Every morning I came back to something different– something new– something unnerving. 

Moon was changing I could tell. I wasn’t sure if he was the same small creature I had taken care of before.

He was no longer searching and curious like before. I tried to bring him those things he liked, picture books of small cartoony creatures and small plush toys. I even brought my old radio to play music and dance like we used to. The vines at first writhed with the beat, and even the corpse moved its head slightly in a sort of head bop, but over time those movements became less ordered and more spastic, to the point I couldn’t tell if he was listening. With every passing day, he seemed to care less and less about simple joys. 

Instead, time was spent watching those vines extend further. They got into the cabinets and tipped over old beakers. It was like they were looking for something. 

…

It was starting to get harder to leave the lab.

Vines slowly crept up the door until they were tightly wrapped around the handle. I pushed and pulled but it refused to budge. I resorted to leaving through the window. I was lucky the lab was on the first floor. 

I don’t know why I kept coming back. The growing apprehension in the back of my mind screamed get out. I could feel every base animal impulse squirm in fear at what I was witnessing. I knew what was happening– I didn’t study him for over a year for nothing after all.

But still– I kept coming back. 

Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was a sense of duty, maybe I still held out hope for him, for the creature I had come to see as a son. 

…

Two weeks later he didn’t allow me to leave anymore.

It had been a good day. He was walking around again, he even toyed with the small caterpillar toy I had brought. As I went to sit on the vine-covered floor he rested with me, the vines warm and pulsating with that strange purr he did. I had foolishly thought he was getting better, that he was still the same Moon as before. 

I fell asleep.

When I woke up the room was pitch black. I realized he had covered the windows entirely with thick leathery vines.

I was trapped.

When I tried to push and pull at them he would snatch me up, move vines around the floor to trip me or grab a hand with one that was hanging. 

The worst part about it was that he was still gentle about it.

He brought me food, vines shifting around the windows to reveal a scuffed takeout container. It looked like it had been snatched from a student, half-eaten, and a fork still rattling around inside. 

When I went to sleep on the floor the vines would shift underneath to accommodate me, creating a surprisingly comfortable bed to rest on. 

I hated it. 

I wanted it to be easy. To hate this creature I helped make. 

But as I wept in the now overrun lab, I couldn’t help but lean into the small vine gently touching my cheek. 

The room was stuffy and humid. Like a greenhouse Moon covered every opening and crevice, and with the soft heat emitted from the vines– I couldn't cool down. 

The clothes I arrived with were completely sweated through. They stuck to me and chaffed with an uncomfortable texture. 

What I wouldn’t give for a decent shower. 

Still, Moon continued just to bring food. Even with the occasional water bottle, I was starting to feel that dry scratchiness at the back of my throat. I was getting sick.

I wasn’t sure he was aware of all the different things a human needed to survive. I tried to talk with him, to get him to understand I needed to leave, but his numerous buds just stared back.  

It was when the animals started appearing that I knew I needed to do something. 

It again, started out small. Squirrels from outside, small mice and rats caught from other nearby labs– but of course it escalated. 

Small dogs and cats that he used to be so fond of turned up dead on the floor. All covered in those same tightly woven vines. Their small bodies quickly turned into hollow corpses, frighteningly similar to Sun. 

At this point, his corpse only sat in the corner, unmoving except for the subtle shifting of vines underneath him. 

…

I had a plan. Cabinets on the top shelf of the bench stood untouched by vines– despite them completely covering every other surface.

It was where we stored our concentrated weed killer. 

The stuff was not only toxic to plants, but huge health risk for humans. Just 0.05 mL of the stuff was enough to kill a fully grown adult male. It had to be handled carefully.

I had to do it. I knew I had to. 

Despite the sharp ache in my chest at the thought- I knew that this was the only way. 

Before when Sun was alive, the stuff was far too toxic to be used to cure him but now…

…

On the 29th day, I found a shoe amongst the tangled vines.

It wasn’t mine.

…

There were buds everywhere now. The dark pits held in the flytrap eyes followed my every move. 

I had to be quick. I had seen myself how quickly those vines could dart through the air, and with how covered the room had become, there was no way to avoid them. However, the eye like buds did close periodically. I wondered vaguely if this was a remnant of existing in a body that needed to sleep for so long. Even during these periods though, several remained open, watching me intently. 

The shelves with the chemicals had always been too high for me. I wasn’t even gonna bother with the stool; it was probably buried under layers and layers of vines. I would need to stand on the counter to reach it. 

It was on the 31st day that I made my move. Most of the buds were closed. I counted, and only a few near the floor still loomed wide and attentive. 

I carefully made my way over to the shelf. 

I moved slowly and with as much casual ease as I could muster. I couldn’t let him know what I was doing. 

Thankfully the vines on the counters were not nearly as dense as the ones on the floor. There were small pockets of free space and if I could just get my feet in them, I could stand on the counter without alerting Moon. 

I carefully lifted a foot. It was difficult. I had to essentially pull my weight using the leverage of only a very small portion of the counter.

I felt myself slip slightly, brushing against a vine.

I froze. The vine in question shifted slightly in response, changing the pattern of interlocking vines slightly. 

Eventually, it stilled. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally, I was able to make my way to the top of the counter. The open spaces had shrunk considerably with the shifting, so I had to stand on just the tips of my toes. 

I slowly pulled open the cabinets, careful to adjust my weight and hold onto the handle as it swung towards me. 

It was in the back, carefully labeled with many warnings along the side. I slowly brought it out. 

I grasped it carefully in my hands. A whole liter of the liquid filled the heavy jar. 

I needed to inject it into him.

If I could just find a needle or make a small cut with something I could probably–

I felt a vine squeeze around my toe.

I lost balance. 

I tried to grab onto something but my hands were still wrapped around the toxin tightly. 

I felt myself fall backward onto the floor. 

With a crack– I could feel the concoction shatter onto my chest. 

The world was spinning. I felt sick.

I shakily lifted a blood-soaked hand. 

The glass had cut me. 

The vines surrounding me moved in a sudden flurry. I felt the vines underneath me retreat, leaving me on the cold empty ground, buds opened and sprouted to life as they swarmed above me. 

The whole room was shifting and writhing.

I could feel my body react painfully to the toxin. Extreme nausea overwhelmed my senses and I felt the sudden urge to empty my stomach.

Pain shot through every nerve as my eyelids felt heavier and heavier.

I was going to die. 

I had failed.

Above, the eyes twisted and turned above me, creating a dizzying array of shapes and sounds. 

I felt a small vine gently touch my open palm. I wondered vaguely if it was possible for a plant to feel grief– to mourn. 

There was a moment of stillness. The pain subsided as the vine rested gently in my hand.

But eventually, I could feel the vine crawl further. Carefully avoiding the spill in the center, they wrapped around my body. I felt like one of those animals now, caught in a tight embrace.

The last thing I saw was Moon lifting a single bud to look at my face. 

And then, it dug in.

[mattsdiva]

I do? - M.S

Summary - it’s Matt’s wedding day yet all he can feel is the the guilt of your death not about the girl he’s marrying he only wanted it to be you the guilt he felt for never asking why you ever looked so pale or all the doctor visits why you could only smile around him and his family but never your other friends or your own family or why you never told him you where dying. Or maybe the fact he was getting married on the day you died

Matt got the call in September, September 12 at 2:47 am the call that would change his life forever. “I’m so sorry for your loss Mr.sturniolo y/n has sadly past away this morning the cancer spread to her brain.” The night he screamed genuinely screamed so loud, Nick and Chris running to his room when the caller had said “y/n Sadler passed sway this morning” where nick gasped tears slowly falling from his face but falling faster each after another, where Chris threw himself on Matt crying silently whispering “its okay Matt it’s okay”…

That was 4 years ago..

Matt was getting ready for the big day the day where he and the words “I do” meant somthing, her name was Harper she was blonde with blue piercing eyes nothing like your brown curls that draped over your shoulders her eyes nothing like your brown eyes that somehow reminded Matt of fall his favorite season. Nick and Chris coming in “ready for the big day big boy” chris says patting Matt’s shoulders “you look great Matt” nick says fixing Matt’s tie Matt was nervous about today really was he was marrying his forever. He smiles as he picks his phone up Matt never really though about the wedding date that was chosen never though twice he just new the weather would be nice and the leaves would fall slow from the trees until he really noticed it September 12 tears fell from his face, the looks of concern from his brothers face “Matt what’s wrong!!” Nick says and Matt puts his head in the crook of nicks neck his favorite place to put his every time you would cuddle every time you would hug every time after an intimate time every time he had a long day every time he would apologize for an argument because it always felt safe every time.. “todays the twelve of September I’m so selfish how could I do this how could I marry sombody I should be marrying her this should be me and her not me being married to sombody else the day she left me the day she left us” nick put his hand in Matt’s hair “it’s okay Matt it’s okay” the same words, the same day … 4 years later

She was now walking down the isle with a big smile, Matt stood their crying not for her not for how pretty Harper looked not because he was marrying her but because it wasn’t you he wasn’t marrying you he never got to ask the question never got over you all he wanted was you he wanted you to be his forever now you’ll only be his forever memory “We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of Mathew and Harper . We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared between these two people, as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends, do you take Mathew Sturniolo to be your lawfully wedded husband” the officiant says and Harper just looks at Matt with a smile and Matt looking at her tears is eyes for you not her and the only thing Harper sees is matt crying for her Harper didn’t know about her because Matt could never talk about you not to anybody “Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish them, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?” She still had that big smile on her face “I do” oh how sorry Matt felt how guilty he felt “Do you, ‘mathew sturniolo take Harper windly to be your lawfully wedded wife “I do I do” matt turns to his brothers, his mother and father to Justin then everybody else then his eyes land on Harper’s “i do?”

Why did you never tell him you were sick?

Why did he never ask why you looked so pale?

Why your curls looked thinner?

Why you always were tired?

Why every time him or anybody asked to hang out your text reply would be “yeah just finishing my up with doctors appointment :))”

Why your smile always looked forced or any emotion did?

Why you wanted to sleep over at the triplets house every night?

Now all he could think about is why? Who is he saying I do? To sombody who isn’t you.

Or the fact the memory that he had burried and hid came back to him that night.. September 12th .. hours before the call he was with you on your couch you head layed on Matt’s lap staring at his eyes like it was the last you would ever see them. He played with your hair he had noticed strands of hair falling into his hands but thought nothing of it because you had complaining months about your shampoo ripping your hair out slowly.. the soft whisper and the smile you gave like it was the last “Matt do you think you and me will end up married” the question you gave on the day hours before you died “i do” the last words he really said before he picked his phone up and showed you the text his brothers texted him complaining that he’d come home the fact he kissed your lips a long kiss.. the fact the he never would know that once the door shut you cried the first time since you found out you where sick. Matt came back to reality he looked deep in to Harper’s eyes and bursted crying slowly fall to the floor Nick and Chris running to him “I do” like the words where forced to come out his mouth. Matt didn’t want to marry her he wanted to marry you. Now this day will haunt him will haunt her.. and the word I do

Taglist - @bernardsbendystraws @kenah-sturniolo @devotedlyteenagemusic @sarahsturnn @courta13 @kahlidosenotread @sheluvsthesturniolos @mattspillowprincess

A/N: I wanted to write somthing gut wretching while I was listening to hampstead by Arianna grande and sad and I don’t think I did it well I gave this my all just for the outcome to be awful 😭

Divider credits to the amazing @bernardsbendystraws

[b0nten]

BLUEBELLS, YOURS TRULY.

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ albeit rarely, rindou overthinks, and frequently, ran doesn’t think too much.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ this is like the “backstory” for the ring. MAYBE i’ll turn it into a multiple part. i also put it in the timeline where everyone is happy because i really love everyone being friends. wrote it because rays’s version destroyed me !!!!!!!!!!!

he spins the ring on his finger. he slides it off. he looks at it. he lets it hang from his neck, on the chain. he sighs.

“now what the hell is up with you?” barging in, ran asks. “who shat in your cereal every morning for the past two weeks?” he says, opening the kitchen cupboard to take — funny enough — some cereal out.

“i’m not in the mood, ran.” his younger brother spits back, head falling against the wooden table.

“hey now, there’s something really wrong with you if you’re acting like .. this.” pointing at him, he sits down, fat bowl of cereal clashing against the dark block, spilling some milk onto it. “now, spill.” with mouth full, he tries to choke out the words, spoon in his brothers face the moment he gulps down the first mouthful.

“you’re gross sometimes.” rindou just sighs, looking away.

“what’s with the ring?” ignoring the insult, the lanky haitani just continues his questioning. “by the way, the blue doesn’t look that bad on you.”

“it’s mine, and i got a matching one for y/n.” the other explains, “thanks, by the way. it was her idea to dye it like this.”

“you wanna propose to her?” his older brother asks, chewing loudly. “y’know we’re still just teenagers?”

“no shit, big head.” rolling his eyes, rindou feels the exasperation dig its roots deeper into his brain. “i’m not proposing. yet. but i don’t know if i should give it to her.” he finally says, letting ran in on his worries.

“and why not? what’s that? cartier, right?”

“no brand can escape your gaze, you’re really unbelievable.”

“thanks, bro, love you too.” as he swallows his last spoonful, ran winks.

“not in a good way.” the younger sibling announces, earning a displeased look from his brother.

“now you’re the annoying one. fuck’s going with you two?” ran finally snaps, trying not look worried. after all, he loves his brother, but they don’t do that kind of talking.

“she’s leaving next week” rindou finally manages to choke out.

“what? what do you mean?” his brother asks, taken aback by the sudden information.

“her student visa’s expired. she’s gotta go back home until gets it renewed.”

it pains him to even think about it. he hasn’t eaten in almost fourteen days, ever since he found out. but what pains him even more is how excited you are about going back home. about going away from him.

he thinks it’s selfish, because he knows how much you’ve missed your parents and how much you’ve waited for a holiday that’s long enough to return.

“if the flights take four days in total and i want to stay for two weeks, then i’d rather not go anymore.” you always said. “i want to spend as much time as possible, without having to rush anything, y’know?

but maybe sometimes love is all about being selfish, loving someone with your whole heart. maybe he wants to never let you leave without him. maybe he can’t let you leave without him because he can’t stand not being an 8 minute subway ride away from you.

“don’t tell me you got some of those control issues, the pretty tiktok girls say they’re not cute at all…” ran comments, dodging an uppercut by a mere second.

“can you take me seriously for once? i think she wants to break up with me, she called me over today saying we have to talk.” rin frowns, blond-blue bangs covering his tired eyes. “i shouldn’t have believed that tiktok reading that said good news are coming my way.”

“you’re so fucking dumb, lord have mercy.”

“excuse me, ran?”

“you’re excused. let’s get this straight: does it really matter to you wether she’s oceans away or in meguro? what do you think she’s gonna do, break up with you only to return in three months and see you everywhere? do you really think y/n’s that kind of girlfriend? throw away three years BECAUSE OF A VISA?! fuck outta here with that insecure crap, rin. i raised you better than that.”

on the inside, ran smiles. oh, how he loves knocking sense into his younger brother. truly the best activity.

“now go and talk to her.”

rindou hesitates.

“i won’t say it nicely the second time around.” the older one threatens, and rindou jolts up from his chair and bolts through the door, house slippers still on, door wide open. before ran can say anything else, rindou’s voice echoes from the staircase into the kitchen:

“i’ll buy a new pair when i get back, don’t start bitching, please! i’ve got a girl i have to convince not to break up with me!”

his older brother laughs as he pulls out his phone.

sister in law

(16:22) he’s on his way.

then, a ping fills the empty space.

sister in law

(16:23) already talked to mikey. everything’s going great.

(16:23) love you, big head

(16:23)🫰

maybe ran’s not gonna tell you the reason rindou is running like a maniac through minato ward right now.

ugh, is his head really that big?

tagging: @h4nman BECAUSE YOU MADE ME CRY😡😡😡 ; @sirachano0dles <3 i might start a taglist if i make this into a multiple part fic?!?

[leynaeithnea]

*comes in dancing to hide the tears*

Soooo, a winion told me you have thoughts on Not sorry for loving you?

WE’RE SO BACK MY LOVE (i was the winion)

OKAY LETS GET GOING THANK YOU MY FRIEND

Not Sorry For Loving You

BOY, i was worried about this song & how it made the events play out considering the odyssey, and I’m satisfied enough with it and I have A LOT to say (i think)

First we start out with the same….tip-tap thingy instrument we had with Love In Paradise, but lower, which DEF is something specifically in music and I’m excited for the musican reactors on youtube start to react to it, and pick it apart (like major/minor)

But its an exact mirror of the beginning of Ody waking up at Calypsos island, is it because things on the island stay the same I wonder? Mhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (its so beautiful)

Someone arrived today (HERMES , we can hear her take a breath and brace herself for what she has to tell Ody)

They said they′re taking you away (FUCKING FINIALLY, ITS ONLY BEEN WHAT, 7 YEARS???)

That you’re not mine to save (Oh…OH now this one…this can refer to several things 1. calypso “saved” him when he washed up on her island and patched him up 2. she thought she could “save” him from his dark thoughts and everything? “i can fix him” vibes? 3. shes talking about herself and “youre not the one who will safe me”)

And soon I won′t get to see your face (…….i know this probably because of rhyming purposes, but i like how this kind of implies she cares more about his looks than him xD)

So I came by to say (interesting, does she leave him alone completely, did she start leaving him alone after his breakdown at the cliff? or does she just not tend to go to the beach when hes sitting at the beach crying every day? mhhhhhh)

You’re unlike anyone I have ever known (…he is unique)

‘Cause you′re all I��ve ever known (…….thats just sad, i teared up at some part during the stream, im not sure if it was this or the end of charybdis,..but yeah)

WANGUIS VOCALS ARE BEAITUFUL; THE MUSIC- ITS

ITS SO GOOD, im in love

And if I pushed you

Or if I came on too strong (“if”, ok…miss hypothetical, and miss “i” messages, if she pushed him, he literally refused her from the start and she kept going and told him to bow down………….”if”, as in “thats what you say I did and maybe thats true but probably you made that up”, can i see this as her just now looking back and being like “yeah….maybe that was too much?”, maybe, but if this was the first time in seven years that she reflected on her own actions, then she has ISSUES still)

Or if I ambushed you (the song keeps things very vague, but I see this as a way for Jorge to semi-confirm the assault, or at least to not erase it, ive seen a lot of conflicting views on the song, from “not specfic enough about the SA as it should be” and “this song proofs that calypso is innocent” and Jorge probably found a way to let both interpreations co-exist, that being said I will be excited for animatics that will lean into the more Odyssey-accurate interpreation)

For that, I’ll say I was wrong (you say you were wrong, but you dont say you’re sorry for it?… aha)

And if you hate me (“if” you hate me, not like she FORCED him to stay on her island for SEVEN YEARS, girlie aint you the one trapped too in this interpretation? :) :) :) u should know how it feels, if you had ANY sympathy and goodwill for him at heart instead of selfishness you would’ve let him go years ago, like….7 years)

Then I am sorry my love′s too much for you (THIS is the biggest proof to me that this whole song is just BIG emotional manipulation, “my love is too much for you”, she blames HIM, for her feelings, like he is at fault that he cant deal with her emotions, instead of her being able to respect his boundaries and keep herself in check after his INSISTENT refusal), again the VOCALS THO

But I’m not sorry for loving you (eh, valid, but also rly guilt tripy, yk? You dont have to be sorry for your feeligns, but you have to be sorry about the way you act if it harms someone (WHICH YOU JUST TALKED BAOUT BUT DIDNT APOLOGIZE FOR, so shes not sorry for loving him, she - on some level – understands that she has hurt him, but she doesnt say shes sorry for her actions)

AND THEN A CHOIR to back her up? there was none in Love in Paradise, so its interesting that one appears now, is it because her emotions are stronger now and they’re overwhelming her? is she trying to use her godly power to convince him to stay? no matter what, they sound lovely, and i gasped when i first listened and had to replay it them, it does kind of sound like theyre trying to pressure ody

“Calypso-” THATS pretty much all he gets to say, MY HEART, he tries to speak, having let her vent that all out but…)

Let me speak (SHE INSTANT INTERRUPTS HIM?? THE AUDACITY? GIRL SHUT UP AND LET THE MAN SPEAK, another BIG red flag of this being a lot of emotional manipulation here, especially since she continues with giving her “sad sob story/explanation”, right after its like “yah i did bad but look at my sad story, this is why I did all this, you cant blame me)

I spent my whole life here (isnt it paradise calypso??? doesnt it have all that you want there, all that you need there?? mmhhhhhhhhHHHH someone was dishonest >:) )

Was cast away when I was young (sad, yeah i do feel bad for her about this, but that does not excuse her actions)

Alone for a hundred years (thats a long time i suppose, but for a goddess maybe not that much

I had no friends but the sky and sun (actually love that line)

So when you washed ashore I thought for sure that you were my dream come true (….ah, yes, that makes sense, latching onto the first good thing you come across, hopeless romantic, but being completely blind to the fact that the thing has free will, is actually a human with complex feelings and you were so obsessed with the IDEA of having someone who loved you that you extremely hurt them an,. ofc its the psychological explanation, of course she deserves better, but how she acted was NOT okay, no matter her reasoning)

I thought I knew (you knew…what? thats interesting that she doesnt end that line…and i honestly cant figure out what she implies there, she thoguht she knew that he loved her? that he DOESNT love her, she thought she knew what love felt like? what being loved felt like? OR thought she knew that he was a gift send by the gods? (as it is in the Odyssey iirc..Im not sure on this rn tho, so dont quote me)

The music…is so fricking beautiful in this….we have another refrain, but this time the choir backs her up on the words for “you, too strong, you, was wrong, me, and then the Uuh build up for the the not sorry for loving you”, which just emphases the words again i suppose, and makes her get more emotional? mhhhh not sure! it sounds great tho)

“Im not sorry”, so in the end, even IF she was wrong….shes not sorry, whatever she did to hurt him, the base line is, that she’s not sorry. She should be.

I′m angry and tired and restless and sad (valid feelings, but its all about how you express those…maybe you should get therapy)

I’m stuck in the moments I swore that we had (you swore, but maybe, maybe you just imagined them, because you were so desperate to believe there was actually any love from him, that you made yourself believe his rejections ended up being signs of love after all…thats not healthy, get therapy, rip to jorge tho, i believe i saw a thing that said he wrote it when he was in a low point in life, Id think hes better now, but still, unreciprocated love DOES hurt a lot, so ouchy)

I wish you would chase me (the way that you chase him….mhm)

Or try to embrace me (but he never does because even after SEVEN YEARS, he somehow hasnt warmed up yet….)

For once, I wish you would lie and say (……aha, like him lying would make any difference? because then you could make yourself believe that what you did wasnt wrong? that theres hope for you? girlie you have to learn to accept that, if you want him to lie to you, youre in a BAD spot. do fricking better.)

I love you (…………..okay……okay, so…..that line makes the whole song controversial….from the animatic we saw that right after these lines odysseus turns away with an empty/determined expression and no regret or guilt on his face what-so ever, and we can also hear that his voice sounds desperate, dare i saw close to breakdown (slightly out of breath, because he interrupts her, trying to get a word in, my first interpretation was that he was worried and tired, and gave in to her demands, scared to refuse her)

and then theres a breaths pause

You do? (she sounds so HOPEFUL, like she ACTUALLY would believe him if he said it, and i think in this moment Odysseus too realizes that just saying him him, would make it worse, so he sort of back paddles a bit?)

But not in the way that you want me to (because i see not a single clue in the rest of the music that would indicate that he as any positive emotions for her, and i rly just cant imagine him feeling any positive emotions for her even if she did NOTHING else than keeping him on the island, (which is VERY unlikely imo), but its also interesting because thats pretty much as well as vague as the odyssey leaves it, so its kindaaa more accurate again? except that we do not get any cue about ody’s view on the whole situation, we see him sitting at the beach, yes, but we dont get a single “as she wished but he did not” moment…so, thats up to the animators or maybe, maybe, one day jorge confirming or denying anything….but yeah, whatever Calypso feels, Odysseus does reciprocate the sentiment, I like thinking that she did try to guilt-trip into staying and that he ACTUALLY feels guilty for leaving her……….the rest of the saga has elements where I will read A LOT more into the scenes than is written out, so i might be over-analysing them at some point and projecting what I want it to mean into it…but alas)

I hate that I fell in love with you (yeah understandable)

Why did I fall in love with you? (because you were lonely girlie)

What do I do with this love for you? (process it and move on eventually, you got eternity to get over it)

How am I supposed to get over you? (therapy)

Why in the world won′t you love me too? (because HE HAS A WIFE WHO HAS BEEN LOING FOR FOR 20 YEARS )

The ending music is beautiful, but aT LAST he is sailing off

[cinnamon-bunni]

okay sooooo i am starting a levibarb series because. i need to write about them right now. so if you wanna see more ficlets like this abt them, please send in some requests!!! i only have so many ideas that are ficlets lmaoo (i have like a 5k word idea....idk if i'll ever write it tho...)

idk. maybe i'll delete this. who knows lmaoo i'm also unsure if i'll list this in my masterlist; if i do make a lot of these, i imagine it'd be annoying for others to see. if i do it'l be later bc its very late for me lolol

Title: In a Figurative and Literal Sense Rating: G Word count: 1.4k

Read it on Ao3!

Summary:

Barbatos often wondered how he got in this position. Both in a figurative and literal way. Because figuratively, Barbatos wasn't the type to bare an open heart. He also had no idea how or when Leviathan had ended up sitting in his lap, talking a mile away about his favorite video game.

Full fic under the cut!

Barbatos often wondered how he got in this position. Both in a figurative and literal way.

Figuratively speaking, Barbatos wasn't the type to bare an open heart. Like everything else he had, it was kept locked away, key swallowed down and kept out of sight. His heart did not bleed, at least, not on its own accord. It bled when the young prince's bled, and it beat in time with the ruler of Devildom. It did speak out of turn, step out of line, nor react with permission; no, it did not do anything without permission, never taking actions for selfish reasons.

Barbatos lived and breathed to serve the royal family. Every action he has ever committed, in one way or another, was done because Barbatos believed it would serve or help Lord Diavolo. He would always come first—everything outside of that came second. Or third, depending on how much Barbatos truly didn't care. The famous demon brothers were firmly set into second place solely based on how much Diavolo cared for them. 

Lucifer was a 1.8, if he wanted to get into details. Diavolo was quite fond of him.

Barbatos' one and only goal was to make sure Diavolo grew into a perfect ruler for Devildom. He made sure the young prince's needs were met, he was happy, and that his projects to connect the three realms went smoothly. Everything he did was for Diavolo. Well, sometimes he would indulge himself in a few things here and there, for a job well done. And because Diavolo would say that Barbatos deserved a day off, and Barbatos would never go against the prince's words. His heart stayed in line, and would never, ever move without Diavolo's say so.

And then he fell in love with Leviathan.

Honestly, it took him by surprise. Barbatos would never use the word "embarrassed" to describe himself, but that's certainly what he chalked up his reaction towards the realization of how his heart would beat faster than it ever did when he of all demons was around.

It just happened one day, it felt like. One day, Barbatos found himself....infatuated with the Avatar of Envy. Barbatos had been aware of Leviathan's own feelings for him—how he'd always go red in the face when Barbatos would get too close, would tease him, and how Leviathan would float towards his presence when he had the chance—and he thought it was cute. Maybe that that had been the first sign, one that he should've noticed sooner.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was on the first unofficial date Barbatos had with Leviathan. Unofficial as in the pair had no idea what was even happening before it was too late; five out of the six of Leviathan's brothers had dragged the pair out into the town, before abruptly abandoning them, together. Barbatos had quickly caught on, as did Leviathan, based on how red he got and blubbered on and on with apologies. The other brothers didn't truly leave, as they trailed them wherever they went to watch in the most clamorous way possible, and Lucifer had a meeting scheduled with Diavolo, clearly so the two wouldn't get in the way.

Yes, it was very, very obvious what was happening. Barbatos was extremely disappointed in himself that it worked. Leviathan had a certain charm to him; his sad, anxious demeanor made Barbatos want to smile and assure him safety and comfort, like one would do with a nervous animal. It was charming, in an odd way, and it made Barbatos' heart...not swoon, but something close to it.

So, when Barbatos asked Leviathan if he would like to go on a proper date, he ignored Mammon's loud, distant whoops of celebration and instead focused on Leviathan's stuttering answer that yes, he'd like that.

Barbatos never thought he would be in this position. Having someone that he cared for in an intimate way was foreign to him. It was for Leviathan, too—the demon made that very, very clear. He never would have guessed that he would act on his own, that his heart would falter and start beating to a new tempo, but it did. And maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.

Finding this position in a literal sense made Barbatos ponder as well. In a literal sense, based on how Leviathan was currently sitting in his lap, talking a mile a minute about the current game he was playing. Barbatos, with his head over Leviathan's shoulder, watched as the third-born played the game on his handheld device. He had long since switched from his live commentary to giving a top twenty of reasons on why it should be titled Game of the Year.

Honestly, how did this happen? Leviathan had been sitting with him on the couch, yes, as Barbatos was enjoying his break before he had to start preparing for dinner. In a blink of an eye, Leviathan had suddenly gained the courage to invade Barbatos' personal space, and inevitably sit in his lap while raving about the game.

Perhaps it wasn't courage, but instead an obliviousness that always enveloped the Avatar of Envy when he got caught up with his rants of his personal favorite things.

"Reason fifteen," Leviathan continued, leaving Barbatos perturbed to find that he listened to the previous fourteen reasons with intrigue, "is the fun value that the game has. OMG, wait, I've never talked about the fun value, have I?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Oh! Okay, so basically, each time you start a new run, the game will randomly generate a fun value; it's a number between one and one-hundred, and connected to that number is a special event that could happen. It ranges from extra dialogue to extra NPCs showing up. When I first played the game, I got a call that only shows up on values forty through forty-five. And there's so many mysteries that come from it. See, through it we find a hidden NPC who's name we don't learn, but it's heavily implied to be-"

Barbatos wasn't sure what made Leviathan pause. Maybe it was because he had attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. Maybe Leviathan had just realized how long he had been going for. Either way, Leviathan had stopped dead in his verbal tracks, frozen as his face started to be colored pink.

"Oh my god. I've been talking this whole time. Ohhhh my god." Leviathan covered his face with his free hand. "Just—just ignore everything I said! This is so embarrassing. I've been talking for the past half-hour."

A grin slipped onto Barbatos' face. Leviathan was three-seconds away from running away, he could tell, so he delicately wrapped an arm around the demon's waist. The pink quickly turned a shade darker.

"I-"

"It's alright, Leviathan," Barbatos assured. "I enjoy listening to you."

Leviathan turned his head, not quite facing Barbatos. "R-really? You're not just lying to me just to make me feel better?"

Barbatos pressed a kiss onto Leviathan's cheek. Somehow, the latter demon's face got a shade darker. "Of course not. Although I must warn you that I do have to leave in a few minutes to continue my duties, I don't mind you continuing the discussion of your game."

Uncertainty clouded Levi's face. "I-I mean. If you want me to."

"Of course I do." Barbatos' eyes focused back on Levi's game. It was a charming little thing. "Now, what's reason number sixteen?"

Slowly, Leviathan shifted his hand down from his face and back to his handheld. "If you say so. I mean, I guess if you want me to. The game has a lot of replay-ability, in my opinion. I mean, yeah, it's sorta just a linear story and stuff, but there's so many different endings and small tidbits that makes you wanna just keep replaying just to see new stuff, y'know? And that led me to sorta speedrunning the game since I've played it so many times, and I started watching world records for it and stuff, and I figured, 'hey, maybe I should give this a try,' and while it isn't my favorite thing to speedrun, it certainly-"

Barbatos listened, captivated by how Leviathan started to get back into an easy flow, words rapidly spilling out faster from his mouth.

"-and no, it isn't that I dislike the glitch percent because I can't get them right, it's just that I think the glitchless run is much more-"

Leviathan kept on going, on and on, and Barbatos stayed silent.

How in the world did he end up in this position?

He didn't know the answer to that. But he wasn't exactly complaining, either.

[ipromiseimlying-blog1]

The Soul Burns Brighter Than The Sun

284,680 Words

Relevant Tags:

If I confessed my love for someone and they Said Nothing I would be very nervous to see them again, Post Season/Series 15, Canon Divergence, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel grows a soul after the Love Confession, Castiel back from The Empty, Idiots in Love, Castiel and Dean need to use their words, and fuck probably, we'll get there eventually, slow burn, Background Sam/Eileen, Season 16 Supernatural.

Summary:

Cas unwillingly comes back from The Empty and purposefully avoids Dean, not willing to face him after his blatant rejection in the dungeon. Meanwhile, Dean is figuring out what he should do about the whole Love Confession Thing when they learn that Cas's accidental jailbreak broke The Empty, letting out most of its occupants. Now that every villain they have ever fought is back, Team Free Will 3.0 has their work cut out for them. Welcome to Season 16.

Sneak Peak:

They peel out of the garage and Dean floors it on US-40 West. A month, is all Dean can think about. Cas has been back for a whole month. 

For the past six-ish months, Dean’s been trudging through his life, barely getting out of bed each day, nearly letting himself get dead by a gang of pussy-ass vampires in masks. Every damn word of Cas’s cute little speech playing on repeat every time Dean closed his eyes. Every time he tries to sleep its dark, and the black goo swallows him up. It’s in his lungs, his nose, he can’t fucking see. 

"You are the most selfless, most loving human being I will ever know."

And Cas is the most selfish son of a bitch Dean’s ever known. 

He fumes, his foot pressing the pedal down. He’ll show Cas loving. Dean’s gonna rip him apart. 

Sam tries to talk to him. “Why do you think he didn’t tell us he was back?” He asks. He’s got the whole kicked puppy thing going on, and Dean’s chest breaks a little. It’s one thing for Cas to do this to Dean. The two of them have always been at each other’s throats. Profound Bond and everything, but to do this to Sam? Arguably Cas’s other best friend? It’s not like the dude’s rolling in the popularity department, so to die and come back, and not tell your two best friends? That’s a new kind of fucked up that makes Dean sick. 

And the kicker is, Dean can come up with a guess or two about why Cas didn’t tell them. He’s got the full story, while Sam’s got the whole “He sacrificed himself for me,” PG-13 explanation with absolutely nothing else. Sure, there’s the bloody handprint on the green jacket. It’s still in Dean’s closet because Dean can’t bring himself to wash it, and he can’t ask Sam to do it since that would require talking, so it just sits there, Cas’s blood dark and flaking. 

So yeah, Dean can guess that maybe it has something to do with Cas’s whole “I love you, goodbye” speech, but if you leave the world with that much to say, just to come back and give them the silent treatment? It’s fucked up. 

So Dean grunts in response to Sam’s question. What else is he gonna do?

Sam’s leg bounces with anxiety. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Dean’s lip curls. “I don’t give a flying fuck if he’s okay or not. I’m going to kill him.”

[lipglossanon]

DON'T YOU EVEN GET ME STARTED. Like, Mother Gloss, c’mon- like I’ve been wanting to send in an ask about reader giving sweet!stepdad head for such a long time OH MY GOODDDDDD-

Just think about the very first time reader tries to give Leon a blowjob, and the man is still very much struggling with thoughts that he doesn’t deserve purely selfish acts of pleasure (which isn’t true in the slightest, he finds out later when his fingers discover the soaked stated of their panties). I think in canon this could be supported by maybe the addition that reader’s mother didn’t really do all that much for him in the bedroom, and mans has a bad track record with romantic partners in general, (god though ada is so fuckin hot), so he’s not really used to being pampered. Or, really having his base needs met outside of the act of sex itself. It's pretty visible that Leon's character is one that's left always wanting more, yk? I can see that lonely, sad little dork savoring every time fingers are carded through his hair, and every time his cheek is kissed he feels an almost stinging tingle of the presence it’s left behind on his skin for a few minutes. Touch starved!leon anyways-

All of this to say that he would absolutely be stammering the first time they guided him to sit down on the catch with a glint in their eye, swiftly moving to get on their knees in front of him. Of course he could blame his blush on the (rapidly fading) summer heat and of course he could blame his being flustered on the fact that this is really taking place in the middle of their day, but would the reader really help it? No, we all float down here, Georgie, and we’re all sexually rabid for men that will never exist. In this essay I will-

“B-baby you don’t really need to-” Leon’s usually sultry voice was knocked off its pedestal, each word being wavered by a nervous laugh that seemed to persist through his talking. There was almost a nervous quivering underneath. 

“I want to, so bad, please?” And how could he really argue with that? So here Leon is, having only a few awkward or maybe one or two sultry blowjobs; seeing the person he has loved the most in his life enthusiastically sucking his cock? Leon feels like he's going to explode. The reader’s fingers quickly unbuckle his belt and unbutton his slacks, god how are their fingers so nimble- next thing he knows, there’s this wet, suckling heaven around his sensitive head. And reader, being so mischievous, decided not to pace themselves! Wow, what a surprise. Anyways, Leon feels this wet heat that just gets tighter and tighter around his cock as their lips slowly make as close as they initially can to the base, before moving to come back up. He thought they were sucking hard before? At this point, this poor man was convinced that you were trying to steal his soul. 

Leon S. Kennedy was never so embarrassed in his life. In around a minute flat you had managed to make him cum, he tries to salvage this in any way he can with a snarky quip or maybe just an opening to conversation, but nothing comes forth. He’s just so caught off guard and vulnerable that at this point he doesn’t truly know what to do, but he doesn’t have to worry much as the reader decided to perch themselves on his lap and start making out with him. 

Anyways stop inspiring me. I want to do a prompt over now ;-; But how are you holding up!! I hope this makes up for my absence, and if it doesn’t, expect much more >:) !!! but also expect more anyways lol. I wrote this very zooted on the za, very late, very tired. I’m going to sleep. Mwah mwah to you and the blog, every time you write you eat and leave no crumbs

Ahhhh!! 🙈 🙈 thank you so much!! 🤭

And oh my gosh, yes!! 👏 👏 😤 I’m totally with you! I think he’s touch starved and like wants a meaningful connection but has a hard time letting his guard down so covers it up with snarky little one liners or like tries to play it all Mr. Cool when he’s just this cute little dork who needs the sloppiest head imaginable and then rode until he’s babbling complete nonsense 😌

But yessss sweet stepdad would cum so fast the first time you sucked him off; he’s just so overwhelmed especially when you’re moaning and whining almost as loud as him 😵‍💫 😵‍💫

Haha I’ll never stop 😈 😆 and I’m holding up well! 🥰 I hope you’re doing amazingly and I can’t wait to see what you have in store 👀 👀

😘 😘

[utapri-hana]

💛 Side stories translation ❤️

Ranmaru Kurosaki

Demon God (Fire Ring Clothing)

❤️ Episode 1:

🦊Tenko: I am back. ......Oh! Looks like Tokiharu is still studying for the "School". Shall we have tea by ourselves?

😈 Ran: I never imagined a hundred years ago, or even twenty years ago, that I would be drinking tea with you. Although I knew only the name Tenko through Ren.

🦊: I used to hear about you from Ren too. It is an old tale that there is a demon god who is very feared. But now, he's a big brother that everyone can rely on.

😈: you are the one to talk ? ......Whether it's Tokiharu or the people around him, if they weren't such a handful, I wouldn't be taking care of them.

You weren't always like that, were you? I heard there was a rough period when even the foxes had a hard time talking to each other. I don't want to ask too much about it, but I heard that there's a lot going on with each other.

❤️ Episode 2:

😈: .........Oh, it's you. I just told you the other day to stay out of my life. If they see you talking to me, other demons will avoid you.

......... STOP LAUGHING! What's wrong with a demon eating fruit? Fruits still have better taste than humans. It's got a nice color and gloss. And it won't let out a scream that hurts my ears.

Good grief! Just take it easy. I don't care who your lover is, I just don't eat humans. If you want to be a mystic's wife or whatever, do it.

You won't listen if I tried to stop you. Do whatever you want. That's your thing, I know it as much as I hate it. Not even I have the courage to get in the way of love.

I'm rooting for you......I'm not against it, so let's just say leave it at that. 'Cause you're stubborn....You haven't changed a bit since you were a little demon, have you?

❤️ Episode 3:

😈: I'm sorry, we were talking about working together to take them down, Tengoku. But I got ahead of myself when I had the culprit in front of me. I just wanted to get this guy down and put him out of his misery.

However, this one shot reminded me of the old days............You were unlucky too. I'm a little resentful that he made me dream without my permission. I don't think I will be able to hold back!

With a perfectly calm arm, I may not be able to give half of its original power. but it's quite enough to send you to hell.

Ha, are you scared now? How sweet....I am not forgiving you even if you begged for your life! For every dream you showed me, I will return it with a nightmarish reality.

The more demons are feared, the stronger they become. with a single thrust, I'll smash you into pieces. You will witness The power of a fiery Demon god!

Natsuki Shinomiya

Tenko (heavenly garment)

💛 Episode 1:

🦊Tenko: It's getting hot, isn't it ~ Both of you, Otoharu-kun and Shonoshin should not be too reckless. I usually don't pay attention to my kimonos....

*Transformation*

🦊: This should be perfect for this season. It's a little old, but it's still as comfortable as ever. You two, what do you think?

*Otoharu and Shonoshin clapping for him*

🦊: I'm glad.....you know, Recently, I had a dream. So I was thinking, maybe it was about time to wear this kimono again.

Do you notice that the decorations are a bit simpler than when Shonoshin "changes"? Rest assured that I myself will not change.

Just like a yokai gaining power through someone's prayers and wishes. I may be stronger than usual.

Clap, clap .....Fufu, shall we try it?

💛 Episode 2:

Oh, I'm dreaming again The illusion of those days.

A dream about a human who was shunned for his ability to see Yokais so he was an offering to gods, and a Fox...

What a selfish creature humans are. I never asked for a single offering. With Such rebelliousness I let him live, but .....

He was easily kicked out of the village, and yet he never uttered a single word of complaint. On the contrary, he saw through my arrogance and still smiled at me for being a gentle fox.

Was this cloth the only thing he said he wanted? I was never able to cure him of the disease that was eating away at him.

But now, that bond has come back to me. So this time, I will protect it. That's why, for the past..... I will pay him back.

[silkendandelion]

The Artifact, Dayedan (Tav) x Astarion Drabble

I love the way Astarion calls the artifact a “pretty thing”, so much that I combined it with the angsty idea someone wrote up about loving someone so much you would live for them, regarding Astarion’s vampiric immortality.

You don’t need any context, not really, except maybe that my Tav is an artificer and this short little thing takes place during the epilogue

~*~

Dayedan hands over the present, haphazardly folded inside a piece of velvet. He never was very good at presentation, Astarion muses, though he admires the azure fabric, soft and cool as he peels back the corners to reveal a replica of a familiar artifact.

“I know it may seem a little tainted, what with who used to live inside the thing, and everything we’ve been through. But you called it a pretty thing once, and I… want you to have them. Pretty things, I mean.”

“You’re a sweetheart. It’s absolutely gorgeous, darling. Is it magical? Did you enchant it?” He turns over the shiny polyhedral in his hands, gently, fingertips tracing the runes on its plates.

“A—little. It’s just a magic mouth spell, a modified knock. Give it the magic word. It will only respond to your voice.”

“Magic word?” He blinks. “Oh—Please.” He tried with a flirtatious rumble, but the sculpture lay quiet.

Remembering his words from before, he tried again, more excited. “Sledgehammer!”

He grinned, delighted, as the artifact began to glow a sunny golden along its creases, and its silver plates bloomed open. The plates, like petals, fell open to reveal a tiny Dayedan, shimmering, starlike and blue like a weave duplicate.

“Oh,” Astarion pondered the tiny figure with soft eyes, restraining himself from touching the image only barely when it began to speak.

‘I hope the angle is all right, I’m almost out of reagents—oh crumbs, is it going already—hello! Hello, Astarion, my love. I… had written a poem for you, but I don’t think poetry is what you want to hear. Not anymore. Also, I’m not ready to risk you leave me when you find out what a rubbish poet I am.’

Astarion smiled down at the little image as he went on.

‘So I’ll just say I love you, then… I love you, Star. I’ll never love anything as much as I love you. You deserve every day you get, even if it’s under the moon, and while that doesn’t change my promise to help you walk in the sun again… I understand how flawed of a wizard I am. If we—can’t find a cure, or if something happens to me, I want you to hear my voice in this box, see me in my youth, so that I—’

Click. Astarion pressed the runes on the plates and the artifact quieted, petals closing to cradle the magical figure.

“Wait, it wasn’t done. You—”

“I don’t need to hear anymore.”

Dayedan watched him cradle the artifact to his chest, his smile soft even as tears gathered on his white lashes. No, no, it wasn’t meant to make him cry—

He grunts awkwardly when Astarion pulls him into a sudden hug, too tight, the artifact still in his hands as he presses his tears into Dayedan’s hairline.

“Selfish of me, I know. You worked so hard on the spell, I’m sure. But I just can’t listen to you talk about… my going on without you. I—it won’t be for a long, long time. I’ve got plenty of time to get there.”

Dayedan’s shoulders relaxed, returning the hug when he felt Astarion nuzzle the rest of his tears into the collar of his robes. He would catch his tears for as long as they had, every time, he knew.

“You have to promise me you will, I won’t accept anything else.” He says into Astarion’s cheek.

“Just two selfish elves, aren’t we?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nods, pressing a kiss to his skin.

And Astarion was silent so long, Dayedan might have wondered if he’d fallen asleep in his neck, if not for the tremor in his cool hands where he gripped him around the middle.

“I promise.”

Dayedan feels a kiss on his own cheek, the words whispered into his skin as the vampire continues.

“Thank you. For the lovely gift and for… everything.”

[seenoversundown]

Chiaroscuro

Josh x Quinn

TW: none (: just some fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Quinn POV

Walking into the festival grounds, hand in hand with my Josh, who is practically vibrating with excitement. Seeing the string lit trees while everybody is picking their spots to set up their blankets feels like a dream. 

“Are you nervous, Starlight?“ I whisper, leaning into Josh. He squeezes my hand a few times before quickly nodding. Josh was always a candidly happy boy but, nothing will beat the way he is beaming at the sight of this festival set up.

Josh was finally accepted to present a film he put together and I’ve never been more proud, even if it’s a local film festival that is hosted once a season. Given that it’s October, the theme for the fest is Horror Films, which isn’t necessarily my favorite but I will always be there for Josh. 

“Okay glow bug, find us a cozy spot and I’m going to go get the schedule.” He quickly says before pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

“Don’t get lost!” I yell as he scurries off into the crowd, knowing full well he didn’t hear it. 

After sneaking past even more horror fans, I found a sweet little spot under a tree. While smoothing out our blanket, I can hear him singing as he’s making his way back. 

“What a lovely day it is,” bringing a smile to my face just by the sound of his voice. “Isn’t it my little glow bug?” 

Plopping himself down on the blanket and giving the space next to him a little double pat, I can’t help but laugh at the gesture. 

“Every day spent with you is lovely” I tell him, because simply put, it’s the truth. Gently squishing his face, making him giggle. It was selfish really, anything to make that dimple pop. I haven’t seen him this giddy since that night on the rooftop. 

“Where are you on the schedule?” I questioned. 

“Fourth!”, he says excitedly, “but there’s only six films being shown, so I really hope mine is memorable for everybody.” 

I could hear the excitement start to leave and the doubt creeping in its place. 

“I’m sure it’s absolutely perfect, Josh. Don’t be too hard on yourself. The stars aligned to get you here, enjoy all of it.” I tell him, hoping maybe some encouraging words will help him feel a bit better. 

“Thank you, bug. You’re right. No reason to fret about it beforehand,” he mumbles. “Now come and get comfortable so we can enjoy these horrific films.” 

I spend most of the time during the first three indie horror films, watching through squinted eyes and listening to Josh’s commentary under his breath. I’ll never understand how he enjoys watching these but I'll gladly make the exception to spend time with him. I’ve been listening to him talk about the film he put together for months and I’ve only been lucky enough to see little clips, mostly from sneaking up behind him while he’s editing. 

“I actually quite liked that one,” Josh says at a normal volume, snapping me out of my thoughts. “It was done so well, I’ll find them later so I can give them a proper ‘bravo!’” 

If there’s one thing I know about tonight, it’s that we will be the last to leave . He just wants to make sure everybody feels included, so he will spend the night speaking to everyone. It’s admirable really, because he and I are not the same. But maybe that’s how we balance each other out so well.

“I’m sure they would love to talk to you but it’s basically your turn, love!” I remind him, earning a grin.

“I really can’t wait for you to see it,” he says as he’s standing up. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

I reach my hand up towards him motioning for him to lean a little closer and as he does, I pull him in. Pressing my lips against his gently, leaving a few small kisses on the corners of his mouth and the tip of his nose, I see his beautiful smile start to creep onto his face.

“I’m already so proud of you,” leaving one last kiss to his forehead, “ now go! Go impress the fellow creepy folk!” Which earns a good laugh out of him as he starts walking up to the front. 

“Next up, Joshua Kiszka presenting his film, The Red Opus“, I watch the MC hand the microphone over to Josh, not having thought about the fact he would get to speak. I lock eyes with him from a distance seeing him release a big breath before pulling the mic up to his mouth. 

“Thank you so much for having me here. It really is an honor. I have been passionate about film for my entire life and being able to finally show the world is really special to me. Well, with that said, I hope it scares the shit out of you!” Josh exclaims. He always had a way of speaking that would make anybody laugh, no matter the crowd. It makes sense how he’s done so well in his past and current jobs, that charismatic little shit. 

Josh quickly hustles through the crowd of blankets and settles back down onto ours. 

“Your face is going to be sore from all that smiling you’ve been doing”, I can’t help but poke a little fun at how excited he is. 

“What can I say,” he torts back, “I get to spend an afternoon in the crisp air, enjoying people’s response to my film with the love of my life. I have a lot to be happy about, bug.”

I can’t help but beam back at him. It’s a wonderful thing being in love with someone who thinks you made the sun and the stars in the sky. But nothing beats knowing that our stardust paths decided to cross somewhere and I will be eternally grateful for that. 

“I’m proud of you, Josh” I stared into his eyes for a moment, “really, I’m so proud to know you.” Hearing the movie start, we both break eye contact to see the title screen pop up. 

Through some laughter, “Now, let’s see what horrible shit you decided to come up with.” 

I sat there and watched, cuddled up to Josh, and only had to look down a couple times throughout.  He was also aware that I’m not the biggest fan of horror in general, so I would get a little tap on my thigh, letting me know to look away. 

“It’s almost over,” he whispers, “I’m really happy that you’re here” pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. Sending little tingles through me, everyday I fall even more in love with him. 

Everybody begins to hoot and holler as it ends, causing Josh to quickly stand so he can graciously accept the praise. He will forever be the cutest man I laid eyes on as he does a little curtsy to each side, relishing in his achievement. I can’t help the fact my eyes are a little misty watching him, he has worked so hard for this that it’s nice to see him get to live his most authentic self. 

And as anticipated, we spent the rest of the evening talking to everybody- after watching the last two gore fest films of course. 

Josh was just elated to spend time talking to other film buffs and there wasn’t anything I could say that would stop that. So with that, I stood beside him all night and enjoyed the fresh fall air while he spoke endlessly about his love for film under the moonlight. 

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