#he has plagued me for nearly 3 years now

[efingcod]

It needed to be done.

[meyousing]

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re used to light being distant, so when he decides to lay the affection on heavy and proposes a new idea to you at the same time, you’re helplessly intrigued. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: nsfw, yandere light yagami x reader, idk if this matters to say right off the bat but you’re wearing a skirt :] also mentions of death like always lol but none fr! alsoalso this idea has probably been done to death by now but to be fair I started this A YEAR AGO!! pls enjoy despite that lol ily <3

“What is it?” his eyes sharpened as they narrowed at you from across the room, voice laced with blatant boredom. That was what you told yourself anyway, truly hoping that it was boredom and not annoyance because the look he always gave you at times like this made you cave in on yourself, instantly regretting whatever you had done to be such a bother. All that you were doing now was laying idly on his bed, legs swinging out of habit as you were on your stomach and flipping through a magazine that he had given as a pacifier. Maybe he knew that you were actually keeping your eyes on him this entire time, rather than the sheets before you.

“What do you mean?” playing dumb never worked with Light, but you would always do it anyway. It could provide a delay of the inevitable if nothing else. 

You heard the tap of his pen as he dropped it on his desk, followed by the soft thud of his notebook closing before he stood from his chair. A regular notebook, you noticed, thankfully.

“Trying to outsmart me again?”

Right, his interpretation of your playing dumb was much less simple than what you intended to get across. Of course, he knew that you knew better, so your deception was instead seen as defiance; a flaunt of superiority. 

“Of course not,” you shut your magazine, sliding it to the side of the bed and cringing when it slid off of the bed, crumpling up in an ironically tense pile on the floor. Surely Light wasn’t too attached to it, as he merely spared it a passing glance before casting his eyes upon you once more. Then he began to approach, making you swallow a newfound lump in your throat as you scampered back to sit up on your haunches. 

“Then what is it?” he leaned over you, his hands resting at your sides with your faces inches apart. His breath was slow through his nose, soft and cold as each exhale blew onto the tip of your nose. 

How to tell him that the stupid magazine didn’t pacify you at all, that only his attention could soothe you? And how embarrassing it could get if you admitted to the exact type of attention that you needed. 

He began leaning closer as your mind raced, thinking of a different possible answer, but then it went entirely blank as he was close enough to brush his lips over yours. Tantalizingly, the gentlest nudge and he only did it once before pulling back slightly, you could have missed it had your brain continued thinking so hard. The sensation nearly made you crumble, a chill shooting down your spine as you inhaled and resisted the urge to wet your now trembling lips, focusing on maintaining your posture. He knew how to break you, you didn’t want him to see it happen this soon.

“Nothing” was all you could say without simply blabbering out every dirty thought plaguing your mind.

“You never stare at me like that for nothing,” he said pointedly, even adding a cheeky but very slight tilt of his head. Had your stare really been so obvious? You truly did try to be subtle. Either way, you found it humorous how he could go from cold with seemingly deadened emotions to a teaser within minutes. Finding it humorous helped you cope with how scary you knew he could be. 

With the lightest shove to his chest you could muster alongside a bashful turn of your head, you tried creating some space between yourselves to alleviate the fast beating of your heart.

“Really, it’s nothing. I didn’t mean to distract you from your work…” Your hand lingered on his chest after the little push, kneading the material of his shirt idly as you hoped this excuse would suffice. This mannerism alone proved the opposite of your hopes to him. 

When the full press of his lips fell upon yours in a genuine kiss this time, you knew that you had failed. Even more so when you subconsciously deepened it with a lean closer, making your grip on his shirt firmer to keep him from moving away. Though it seemed he had no intention of doing so, instead easing you down to lay your back against his mattress, crawling over you as soon as you were horizontal. 

This kiss, unlike all of his others which would be quick and half-assed–your lips barely meeting before he was already turning his head away to tend to some other matter–was compassionate. One of his hands found the side of your face and he caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, his other fingers which became entangled in your hair from the placement were massaging your scalp soothingly. The sensation lulled you and had you sinking even deeper into his bed while pulling him along with you, your fingertips meeting at the back of his neck and fiddling with the ends of his hair. While this kiss was unusual, it was not unwelcome. 

You didn’t know that there would be a catch to this sudden affection.

You could feel Light smirking against you, his entire aura darkening once he did, so much that you could feel it–and your reaction to such a peculiarity was communicated with a tensing of your shoulders. Upon sensing this, Light was quick to groan and prod his tongue against your bottom lip, which surprised you further and allowed him to invade your mouth. The intimate sound he let out and the way he just seemed so infatuated with you right now had your heart racing. 

This moment ended almost as quickly as it started though, he pulled away from you and nudged his nose against yours. You tried not to show your disappointment, but you knew that it must have been obvious when a frown graced your lips. 

“I want to try something.”

This could go in any direction. He was always so unpredictable, mood changing on a dime whether it was for better or worse. 

“What’s that?” you asked with a small voice, indicative of your anxiety about the unknown. You were already playing right into his hands.

“I want to reward you for being so obedient.”

A reward? Who is this and what has he done with your Light?!

His hand on your cheek rubbed it once more before he lifted himself off of you, steadying himself with hands on your waist as he did. You remained in your place, only watching with your eyes as he leaned over to reach into his desk and a drawer.

The drawer.

You turned your head with a gulp as you watched him retrieve his arm, now holding the dreaded notebook that you had tried to shield yourself from, trying to stay ignorant for the sake of keeping your relationship peaceful with the man you couldn’t help but love. 

“So long as your obedience remains the same, you’ll be rewarded. We’re going to test it right now.” 

He placed the book by your hand which had fallen to your side once he moved, putting his pen between your loose fingers and adjusting it until it stayed still there without tipping over. Your limbs had frozen, so it was no tough feat for him. You were shocked even further when Light’s expression altered somewhat once he actually took notice of how tense you were. Last you could remember, he couldn’t care less when your discomfort was so obvious. 

“It really is going to be rewarding for you. Don’t you trust me?”

He always had to ask you that. How much more obvious could you be about your unequivocal devotion to him, your infinite trust? You’d been by his side all this time, yet he would still ask, nearly daily, most commonly before asking you to do something that you didn’t want to do. As if anyone else would remain with him when finding out his secret, and he still doubted you.

“You know I do.” You murmured, fingers twitching around the cold pen in your grasp. 

“Then at least hear me out” he chuckled dryly, not with any sense of legitimate humour. You tried to be subtle as you swallowed the lump in your throat, having heard such an impatient laugh come from him countless times before.

“This won’t be going away any time soon,” he patted the notebook, “and I can tell that you won’t be either. I mean, as long as you keep following along with me, here.” He glimpsed at you differently then, as if his eyes were asking you to challenge that statement.

You only nodded. Light grinned.

“Good.”

His fingers moved to peel open the book, and you glanced away from it as he skimmed past so many pages that were filled from margin to margin with names. The crisp sounds of paper brushing together stopped once he found a blank one.  

Your eyes stayed on him, and you could feel some burning bile churn and slosh around in your gut as a little smirk pulled at his lips. His eyes darkened when they met yours.

His free hand, which was out of your line of sight, traced the waistband of your skirt. You flinched slightly in surprise, and Light’s smirk widened as he leaned closer to you.

“Write your name.”

Despite being unmoving already, you froze even further, stiffening like a stone and watching him desperately, trying to detect any hint of jesting in his demand. But the wickedness surrounding Light was unrelenting; he meant what he said. 

“What?” you asked quietly, needing to hear it again to really believe that he meant it.

“Start writing your name. Trust me, won’t you?” 

“I-I do–”

“I know. So do it.” Light’s tone was more firm now. 

You could only hold your breath when your eyes flitted over to your hand, your fingers readjusting the pen as you tried to point it toward the paper. The book itself felt alive, you could sense its unreal gaze–like it was taunting you, mocking and laughing at you, tempting you to write, and calling you a coward if you dared to show any hesitation because it shouldn’t be that hard. 

Having been with Light for so long now, you fully understood the notebook’s functionality. Knowing that, would it really be so crazy if you were being a coward about this? 

“Any time now, love” Light’s voice became impatient, and when you looked up at him, his kneeling posture was equivalent to being on the edge of his seat. He looked like he could implode had you made it this far and chose to back out now, he was so eager. You’d hate to disappoint him, even if his little pet name for you was clearly insincere.

Your body went cold and numb once you pushed the tip of the pen against the page, watching the smallest droplet of dark ink soak into the lines. Your hand remained stagnant following this, and you spared a short glance up at Light, noting how his eyes were stuck on the pen. You took in a breath, holding it and letting your lungs fill so you’d become a little lightheaded–a little less aware of this horrible reality–before moving further with utmost reluctance to drag the tool, lining the shape of the first letter in your name.

You could hear Light exhaling as you finally did. You couldn’t let out that breath of your own just yet. Maybe your cause of death would be suffocation, then.

Your focus was ripped away from the note in an instant once you felt a cold fingertip trace over your clit from above your panties, making your body jolt as you met eyes with Light. He wasn’t looking at you yet, only doing so once you stopped writing. 

“Go on. I’m staying true to my word.” To emphasize this, he pressed down against your clit again, his push firm but gentle–leaving you on the cusp of craving more as the sensation gave you chills, yet also sent heat through your lower half. 

So pathetically, that small second of pleasure was enough to incentivize a continuation, and you managed to finish printing that very first letter. 

“Good…”

He resumed what he had been doing, gently circling your bud and using the advantage of that added layer from your panties to optimize the friction; encouraging you. You could feel the way that you were starting to get wet, soaking the material and only making such movements smoother for Light. 

You paused as the feeling grew slightly more intense, coping, and your pause made Light do the same. You two were playing a little game, it seemed, and you obviously didn’t want it to stop–you had to keep going. You had wanted him minutes before this, after all, and you were finally getting what you craved.

Letter two manifested; your grip on the writing utensil weakened as he pulled your panties aside to touch your skin directly. 

You shuddered from the sudden cool air that brushed along your exposed skin, and he dragged some of your slick up from your pussy, using it to make rubbing into your clit that much easier, that much more pleasurable. Your limbs shuddered and you had to breathe out a more vocal huff of air in exasperation, your lungs aching while your muscles tensed in delight from Light’s direct tending to such newfound sensitivity. 

You remained paused with your eyes shut firmly as you became accustomed to the bliss that he inflicted. Light, seeming to understand exactly what he was doing to you, was a bit more forgiving now–continuing his ministrations even when you stopped, but not changing his pace or furthering the intensity enough for those feelings to grow, to bring you closer to any type of climax. It still made you moan though; still made your heart skip a beat and made your walls tighten around nothing. 

Perhaps you had been successfully swindled into playing with fire because now your mind understood a simple formula; if you wanted more, you had to keep writing. Would he let you come if you wrote your entire name down?

Would you even feel the aftershocks of your release before you died?

The prospect of death hit your lust-fogged mind like a truck, and your eyes shot open–that slowly building knot in your abdomen became a tightrope clenching out of fear rather than anticipation. This was a death note, and you were already on track to penning yourself down within it. 

Light could sense your change in stature and returned his gaze to your face once again. His hand slowed, but it was as if he could detect your worry and didn’t want to let you succumb to it–he wanted to keep you within the cusp of pleasure, to keep you malleable and submissive to his desires, not whatever lies your mind was telling you. So he kept touching you.

“You know that you can’t stop now that you’ve started, right?” He looked cocky, like he had you right where he wanted you. And it seemed that he did, because now with such confusion and so many conflicting feelings plaguing you, you weren’t sure about that–could you back out now? Was the damage already done now that your first name was almost down entirely?

Your drying lips parted as if to ask, but you couldn’t find your voice. Light let out a short, dry laugh and nodded his head, his face inches away from yours, like he fucking knew.

“Mhm. You have to keep going, now. You’d better hurry, too. You know that there’s a time limit… don’t you?”

Your lungs were burning and your hips squirmed as he traced his fingers around your core, swirling them within your copious wetness and gently prodding his fingers, hardly getting inside of you, yet you still writhed from the sensitivity of such a precise, close touch. 

You shook your head deliriously in delayed response to his words and all Light did was nod his own head toward the book again. Suddenly you were reminded of the pen in your grasp which had now absorbed the growing heat from your palm; hot to the touch. 

Noting that apparent time limit, you felt your heart thrumming as it raced and you started writing again. The pace of your fingers scraping the pen back and forth was a little quicker than before, yet you couldn’t shake that lingering hesitance even while knowing that you really should have been rushing. Light hummed as he watched, nonchalantly pushing a finger inside of you as you progressed, which made a whiny sound catch in your throat, and made your back lift slightly off the bed. 

Your arm trembled and your chicken scratch ceased again, but Light knew that he had you, because you hurried to carry on with haste once more, and he didn’t bother to stop stroking inside of you anymore. He even slid in another finger following the last time he pulled out, the added thickness made your thighs attempt to close from the new nerve-tingling pleasure that it gave, even despite the way that his body between your legs kept you nice and open for him. 

“Please,” you bartered, voice muffled and representative of the state you were in; wholly weak. He grinned and kept going, his body solid in its place on top of you, forcing you to take it even as his skilled fingers overwhelmed you so deliciously. You wanted the end result now–you wanted to come, to feel that sweet release by his hand. 

Light initiated this entire thing, he set his rules, and you knew that finishing wouldn’t happen just like that, because it wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Please what, Y/N? You already know what you have to do. Don’t play stupid.” 

The little jab at the end hurt only a little bit, making your stomach drop, making you feel as stupid as he said–but his fingertips rubbed along and pressed into your sweet spot which made you whimper, and that feeling was all you could focus on now; remedying the sting of the insult with the soothing cradle of his fingers. Oh, how successfully he was able to distract you and change the path of your thoughts once again. You could hardly bring yourself to care about such blatant manipulation, because release was getting closer and closer, and that was all you wanted.

You couldn’t even tell if the pen was pressing into the paper hard enough to leave any writing behind at all; your hand was hardly moving because your eyes remained shut in elation, and you chose to squeeze the pen in your fist as you coped with his touch, but Light just seemed content with the fact that you were resuming any transfer of penmanship at all. He was certainly rewarding you as he promised, keeping his fingers inside of you until his knuckles pushed into the plush of your pussy lips, and they rocked into you so good that you could almost feel that hard pressure in your stomach. 

It was starting to become too much–you knew how close you were getting, but you didn’t know if that’s what Light wanted. He liked to be in control of most things in his life, and you were at the very top of that list. 

“I-I can’t, I’m gonna–” 

A gasp-like mewl left you once you felt a hot, wet stroke against your clit at the same time that Light pushed rather hard against your g-spot, holding his fingers there and making you squirm. Your eyes shot open and you craned your neck off of the mattress to look down, watching as his lips closed around your clit and sucked it into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it and keeping his eyes on yours the entire time. Your entire body shuddered, it was so intense that you had to try and pull away, but he wasn’t having it, using his free hand to pin your hip down and keep you still.

“Light,” you whined, a warning to him that he was pleasing you too well too quickly, you were about to come and you were hardly finished with writing down your first name. 

His eye contact only became bolder, he didn’t relent, if anything he was trying to get more out of you; intent on making you come now. He hadn’t instructed you otherwise, so you felt safe enough to finally give in–with a weak, raspy whimper you felt yourself release that buildup of desire, your vision turning into static behind closed lids as your body writhed and churned even while he kept you down, putting himself against you with more force. Your hips rocked into his mouth to ride out every last remnant of your orgasm until you felt no more, the only sound that you could hear was your own heavy breathing and Light’s last few caresses against your audibly sopping wet pussy.

 Light moved off of you slowly, and you noted that his eyes were trained on the book rather than your body that now glistened with a light sheen of sweat. Before you could say anything to him (but even then, what could you say?), his eyes scanned over the page and your writing while he nonchalantly wiped your release off of his fingers, onto the material of your skirt. 

You followed his line of sight and looked over your work, seeing how scribbled and disastrous it was. You had probably produced better writing back in kindergarten. 

Now that your heat had finally been tended to, however; your arousal sated, you blinked a few times, then realized exactly what you were looking at: part of your name, written in the death note. 

What about the time limit? Was your first name enough to make it work either way? Your heart began to race and so did your breathing–were these the side effects of the incoming, inevitable heart attack?!

I suppose the cause wasn’t suffocation after all, a fleeting voice said so sarcastically in the back of your head, making you grimace. You propped yourself up on your elbows in a panic and your eyes flew back to Light, who was still skimming over the page with a look of maintained scrutiny. He was so… calm. Were you not about to die? Did he not care?

“That’s a good start,” he murmured, reaching out to trace his index finger (the one that wasn’t just buried in you to the hilt) along the shaky lines that hardly resembled any of the alphabet. 

“Wha–” You could only heave the word out since it felt like your heart was beating in your throat, though your body gradually relaxed as Light seemed completely neutral to the situation. The longer that he did nothing, the more time passed, and you realized that… you were still here.

When silence fell completely between both of you, Light looked over with such casualty that you felt like none of what just happened even did. 

“If we can get to your last name next time, too, maybe I’ll actually fuck you.” He slid off the bed as he spoke, his tone so normal as if he was just talking to you about the weather, making your jaw drop. He grabbed the book and closed it, walking over to the drawer and taking his sweet time ensuring that it was properly put away. 

All you could do was lay there in silent disbelief, watching him with wide eyes while he acted like nothing even happened.

“I’m fine, then?” you asked, your voice firmer and a little louder than normal, more demanding for direct answers. Light glanced over at you and laughed coldly, standing up straight once the drawer was closed once again, his hands on his hips lazily.

“I like that you’re a little dumb, Y/N. It makes things like this more exciting, don’t you think?” 

Before you could respond verbally–only able to scoff for now–Light turned to leave the room, murmuring a nearly inaudible “I’ll get some water” before the door closed behind him. His muffled footsteps became more distant as he descended downstairs, isolating you to the top floor.

Helplessly flumping back against the bed, you stared at the ceiling, reliving everything that had just happened in a mental state that you imagined neurosis to feel like. Although, you didn’t have to worry for long… you would get used to it. You understood that this was not going to be the first time something like this would happen, Light was truly only getting started with you. 

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[a-ikuoliver]

w/c: 1.3k tw/s: gn!reader (no pronouns, descriptions of afab anatomy), oral (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving) notes: happy birthday to the love of my life!!! it's only been a little more than a year of knowing you but i am so grateful for all the joy you've already brought me and how you make me laugh, i can't imagine being an animanga fan without u and i hope you have the best day ever <3 dedicated to @cottoncalicoes ilysm

"are you okay, megu?" your knuckles brush over his forehead, soft, electricity and heat blooming beneath where you touch him, a tiny pout on your lips when you brush his hair back to press your palm to his head, "you look hot, you sick?"

the apples of bachira's cheeks positively burn, pink shining through when meeting your eyes: dark with concern, darting between his as you worry, the back of your hand brushing down from his head to hold his warm cheeks in each hand, the pads of your thumbs stroking over the flush at the centre of his cheeks.

he wasn't really the type to fumble over his words, typically speaking a million miles a minute, especially with you. now, he feels stuck, frozen in time staring up at your concerned expression; eyebrows drawn together in worry, large pupils reflecting his flushed face back at him while you worry over him like a good friend does.

he flushes impossibly hotter at the thought, groaning and wriggling out of your grip to avoid you as best he can.

you're so perfect, such a good friend to him, fussing over him while he's sick, all the while he tries to hide his hardening cock from you.

good friends don't do this, they don't blush at the slightest touch, smallest brush of hands. they don't daydream about the same hands cradling his hot face sliding down his chest, or groping his hips. if he was a better friend he wouldn't think about your lips on his neck, your fingers creeping beneath his waistband, tugging him closer, closer, closer.

"you need some water? you're going really red, meguru." he doesn't trust himself to speak any more, only nodding his head as his bright eyes glazed over, nearly rolling back staring at you, his gaze roaming over your figure, the shape of your thighs, your ass the flutter of your eyelashes when you turn to check on him once more.

the second you're out of his sight, he buries his face in his pillows, groaning as his eyes roll back into his skull. his skin burns, like he's fallen ill with the worst plague. he might be dying thinking about you; molten lava rushing through his veins, sweat sticking his clothes to his skin at the mere idea of you, his eyes blurred and the hairs on his arms standing straighter the more he dreamt of you.

he thinks lovesickness must be a fate worse than the plague: his hair sticking to his forehead all the while you moved around the kitchen, getting him water, the ice tinking against the rim of the glass, and he's certain you're preparing an assortment of food on a plate for him, mostly fruits to snack on, to keep his hydration up while he recovered from the ailment you think he has.

wordlessly, he thanks you and whatever force in the universe he can think of for leaving his bedroom door open, for your low humming under your breath, for letting him track your movements around the apartment while his hands dipped lower over his torso.

guilt almost bubbles in his chest, the sensation drowned by the spark of adrenaline when he slips his fingertips over his abdomen, scratching his blunt nails over each muscle, your saccharine voice echoing in his head like it's your hand tracing over his underwear instead, your breaths shallow and quick, panting, breathless when you say his name, when you plead for him to touch you, to let you touch him.

would you want him to touch you like this? fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your clothes? to leave a trail of burning electricity in his wake?

would you touch him like this? scratching your nails over the sensitive skin low on his abdomen? would you tease him over his underwear? stroking and groping him until his hips would jump into your hands, until he was so overcome with need he flips you beneath him, pressing your clothed bodies together, staying like that until you say his name in that addictively sweet voice of yours.

bachira thinks of you like that far more often than a friend should; below him, hips grinding into each other, breathing each others air, lips brushing against each others while you gasped and groaned. stroking himself over his pants, he thinks of you now, his deft fingers touching and groping and feeling your cunt, amber eyes locked on yours just to watch it change the more he'd tease (he knows you'd think of it that way, but he knows he's just taking his time to really appreciate all of you, your face, your skin, each and every one of your sounds).

now, with his hand gripping his cock, stroking over the material of his shorts, and you worrying over him in the kitchen (he hears cabinets open and close, no doubt searching for a thermometer to check his spiking fever), he's thinking of your thighs.

he thinks of peeling your underwear down your thighs, soaked from kissing and grinding, from his tongue sucking yours, from his cock bumping against your clit before either of you could strip. he thinks of the way you'd lock your thighs around his shoulders, thinks of how you'd taste on his lips, on his tongue, how you'd squeal when he buries his nose in your cunt to swallow down every last drop of your slick.

his fever spikes thinking of how you'd gush on his tongue, knowing he'd be addicted after you grant him one taste, the heat inside his veins only growing thinking of begging to have you beneath him, to eat you again and again, to breathe you in, to suck at your thighs and lap up every last drop he can bear. he's impatient, desperate, aware of how his chest would tighten when you'd part your thighs for him, tighter than it feels right now thinking of you splayed on his bed, your limbs thrown over his shoulders, thighs tightening around his head the closer you got to cumming on his face, the louder your moans grow, how your fingers would twist in his hair to pull him with you has your hips jump and grind into his face.

stroking himself faster, focusing on the tip of his cock, your face flashes in his mind; your concerned expression, the way your pupils shrink and grow staring at him. under his tongue, bachira knows your eyes would widen, pupils dilating until all he could see was the inky darkness taking over your iris. he knows fireworks would explode in the depths of your pupils when his mouth closes around your clit — the only thing he's curious about is if your waterline would well with tears when he sucks at your skin again and again, if you'd buck and cry as he overwhelms every sense you had.

swiping his thumb over himself, he's torn from his fantasies with the jarring sound of your footsteps growing closer.

he's never moved faster in his life, in a match, in training, never did he move with such speed to drag a pillow into his lap, the pain of pulling his hand away from himself nearly making him regret thinking of your face slick with tears, your thighs wet with his cum, his chin dripping with a mix of both, lips swollen from relentless kissing, his cock sinking into you again, again, again and again—

nearly regrets it.

"these should make you feel better, megu."

you're fussing over him again, your hand at his head, pushing him to sit up in the bed, reaching for the pillow in his lap to place behind his head again while he eats and drinks. batting you away, meguru successfully distracts you from the only thing still keeping his modesty intact, by feeding you one of the pieces of fruit you'd cut for him as he sucks the thermometer (undoubtedly telling you he's in perfect health, that the only thing he's infected with is lovesickness, and he can only pray it's contagious).

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[quinnysnursery]

could you write something with reader and cg!Matt where she has accidentally hurt herself (broken bone or something) and it triggers her (abusive household filled with times she has broken bones in the past) to regress to an age of around 2 or 3 and she's terrified to regress while at the hospital and then eventually she's still regressed while Matt takes her home and then maybe its just super fluffy and cute and with lots of physical touch and nicknames?

[🩹] sticks and stones can break my bones, but you would never hurt me | matt sturniolo one-shot

paring : cg!matt sturniolo x fem!little!reader

summary : an unfortunate incident leaves you and your caregiver struggling with the ghosts of your past

warning/extra tid-bits : ANGST FOLLOWED BY FLUFF, injuries, blood, stitches, talk of abusive/neglectful childhood, hospital trips, matt and y/n are dating outside of regression- this does not make age regression nsfw, ptsd, i think that's all!! plz let me know if there is anymore!!

word count : 1,979 + not proofread

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (line from @mikeykuns)

a/n : kinda strayed from the request just a bit but i hope you still enjoy it :)

Matt cursed under his breath as he slammed his foot on the gas- much too full of adrenaline to care about traffic laws. 

Your cries and sniffles echoed throughout the car, your shoulders racking as you attempted to muffle your cries.

He’d been preoccupied on something that, in hindsight, was not important at all. Blissfully unaware of his little’s attempt to cut an apple in the kitchen. He felt absolutely terrible- like he was the scum of all caregivers. 

Beside him in the passenger seat, you were trying to focus on keeping the dish cloth wrapped tightly around your bleeding hand. Your caregiver was talking, but you couldn’t hear him- flashbacks of your childhood had already wrapped around your brain, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

Your childhood was far from a happy one; filled with constant yelling, crying and on occasion, injuries. 

It wasn’t rare that your younger self got into something you shouldn’t- whether that be by climbing a tree to escape your screaming parents or accidentally burning yourself while attempting to make dinner for you and your younger siblings.

It was safe to say you’d had your fair share of hospital visits in your youth. It’d been years since you had to be driven to the emergency room, it wasn’t really something you, or anyone, enjoyed.

Now though, you were sitting in the passenger seat of Matt’s van with a blood-stained dishcloth wrapped tightly around your hand. You’d asked Matt to slice up an apple, but he’d responded with a simple “in a moment.”

To anybody else, it would’ve been easy to wait but you had been regressed in the moment and it was not easy to wait. Nor did your regressed-self believe it would be a “moment”. Your parents had always said they’d cook dinner, “in a moment”- only to fall asleep and leave you and your siblings hungry.

The injury occurred when you, in the haze of littlespace, had decided you could slice your own apple. The pulsing pain in your hand tauntingly reminded you that you could not.

God, you were such an idiot. You knew Matt was better than your parents, that’s the whole reason you entrusted him with the responsibility of being your caregiver. If you had just listened, you wouldn’t be in this position right now. 

You still couldn’t process what Matt was saying, but in the midst of trauma-response plagued thoughts; you spoke. 

“I’m sorry, I…I don’t even know what I was thinking.” You stammered, voice hoarse from crying. Matt furrowed his brows as he exited the freeway, turning to face you for a split second.

“What?” He asked, baffled at the fact you were sorry. He was sorry! He was the one who’d neglected his responsibilities as a caregiver for some stupid social media thing.

“I’m sorry. I…I know it was…it was a stupid thing to do.” You admitted, fresh hot tears burning your eyes- the sensory only adds to the stinging pain from the injury on your hand. 

Matt couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He hadn’t just met you yesterday, of course he knew of your past and the habits you still carried from your trauma- but it had been months since you apologized for something that was so blatantly not your fault.

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad.” Matt said, his words continuing to fall on deaf ears. 

The brunette man didn’t have much time to continue to reassure you, as he’d just pulled into the nearest parking spot he could in front of the emergency room.

Matt jumped out of the van, rushing over to your side door and helping you out. His heart broke at how lifeless you appeared. There were no small smiles, no commenting on the flowers planted outside the emergency room- nothing.

Just you, shuffling beside Matt trying to make yourself as quiet as possible.

It broke him that he’d caused this for you. If he’d simply held off on trying to find photos for Nick’s stupid photo dump, you’d be happily at home munching away on your apple slices.

“Sir?” The receptionist asked, snapping Matt out of his self-pitying thoughts. “She uhm- she…she needs stitches.” Matt explained, motioning to the dish towel he’d panicky-wrapped around your hand before rushing you into the car.

The receptionist nodded diligently, asking for your name and Matt’s relation to you. 

“Y/n L/n…and he’s my boyfriend.” You spoke up, earning another nod. Matt anxiously looked around, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“You two can follow Nurse Buckley to an exam room,” The receptionist pointed to a female nurse dressed in sage-green scrubs, smiling toothily at the couple.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’ll get you stitched up in no time.” Nurse Buckley promised, leading you two to a secluded exam room- Matt helped you onto the uncomfortable bed, you mumbled out a “thanks”.

You weren’t mad at him, not at all. It had been your own stupid decision to attempt welding a knife while regressed, not Matt’s. You didn’t really understand why you felt so…small.

Not in the regression way though, you wouldn’t dare regress in a hospital- terrified of what your little-self would think. 

You felt small in a completely different sense, like your words carried little weight on the world. Despite Nurse Buckley and Matt being in the room with you, you felt shunned away from everyone.

It was then that it dawned on you, you’d triggered some sort of PTSD haze. A trauma response.

Sadly, the realization didn’t fix it- it only made you feel deeper shame. 

“Y/n?” Nurse Buckley called out, grasping your attention. “D’you feel okay hun? You don’t appear to have lost too much blood but if you feel dizzy-” 

You shook your head, “I don’t like hospitals.” You told the nurse, earning an understanding nod. “I understand.” Nurse Buckley looked towards Matt before meeting your eyes once again, “If you want your boyfriend to sit with you on the bed, I won’t tell.” She smiled cheekily.

You flashed her a small inauthentic smile. Matt noticed- the nurse didn’t.

“I’ll be right back, need to grab gloves.” Nurse Buckley told Matt, who nodded.

After the nurse left the room, Matt went straight back to apologizing.

“Hey…baby, look at me.” Matt cooed, carefully sitting in front of you on the stiff hospital bed. Your eyes shot up to meet Matt’s, you hated that.

That wasn’t how you behaved around Matt. With Matt you were playful and softhearted- right now, your stupid brain was forcing you to act like a scared child.

“Can you take a breath for me? You’re shaking.” The brunette boy’s voice was soft as silk as he brushed his fingertips against your tear-stained cheek. Those words broke the dam. 

Your face wrinkled up as you began crying once more, painful memories playing on repeat in the back of your mind. 

Matt’s heart broke for you, “Oh sweetheart…can I hug you?” He asked, you nodded quickly- wanting nothing more than for this awful haze to go away. As soon as permission was given, Matt’s arms wrapped around you tightly- careful to avoid your injured hand.

Your caregiver shushed you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I know, this must be so scary for you- right?” Matt cooed, you nodded into his neck. 

The fact your brain had decided to cope with a scary-situation in an unhealthy way combined with Matt’s soothing touch and voice, you felt a familiar safe, fuzzy, headspace lingering near. 

No.

You couldn’t regress. Not in a hospital. Maybe you would consider it if your littlespace wasn’t as young as it was- but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

Matt had been your caregiver for the better half of a year and in that year, he’d come to recognize the signs of an upcoming regression. The way you melted into a hug like a small child would, how you hid your face deeper into the crook of his neck- trying to bury yourself into his skin. 

“Feelin’ tiny?” Matt asked, lowering his already soft voice. You shook your head, trying to convince yourself that you weren’t. Matt frowned, pulling away from the hug and gently lifting your chin to make your eyes meet his.

“Sweetheart…what’s goin’ on? It’s okay to be tiny, I’ll keep you safe.” Your carer cooed, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. You whined, feeling the fuzziness grow over your mind more. 

“Alright! Let’s get you sewn up and on your way!” Nurse Buckley’s words washed a whole new wave of anxiety over you.

The stitches were not a fun experience. Even if Nurse Buckley had given you a local anesthetic, just the thought of a needle going in and out your skin was enough to make you bury your face into Matt’s sweater. 

Now though, you were both home with strict instructions to “take it easy”. 

And take it easy you would, because you were currently sitting atop the couch- various fluffy blankets surrounding you as Gravity Falls played on the television. 

You smiled gently- feeling much better than you had earlier- as Matt came back to the living room, a small pink bowl full of apple slices. Your heart warmed as the sight, eyes watering with love.

“Hey…what’s going on?” Matt asked, quickly setting the small bowl onto the coffee table and crouching in front of you. You shook your head, wiping your eyes with your uninjured hand. Matt frowned softly, still feeling guilty from the incidents that took place earlier in the day.

“Do you not want apples anymore? I…I can get you something else? Or, order something?” Matt offered frantically, causing you to shake your head once again. “No…Matt this is…you’re so sweet.” Your voice broke as you launch yourself into your carer’s arms, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

Matt sat in shock for a moment before latching onto you, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head. 

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve cut up the apple when you asked.” Matt said, ashamed of his actions. You furrow your brows, pulling away from the hug- “What? No, I’m sorry. It…it was a stupid decision.” You said, ashamed of your actions.

Matt’s brows mimicked yours, knitting together in confusion. “No. I’m…I’m your caregiver, I’m supposed to look after you and I failed that. I’m sorry.” Matt explained firmly.

You smiled at your caregiver, feeling the scared little girl inside of you heal.

Matt pulled you back into a hug, running a reassuring hand up and down your back. You felt the familiar fuzzy feeling from earlier return, but this time- you were more than happy to welcome it, especially after this stressful day.

Matt realized this instantly, his smile growing. “C’mon sweet girl, I think this show is too big for you.” The brunette cooed, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table and finding a much more age appropriate cartoon for you. 

You hummed excitedly, resting against your caregiver’s chest- eyes heavy with sleep. 

Matt hummed along to the theme-song of the cartoon, earning soft giggles from you. The two of you sat tangled together, a pile of fluffy blankets keeping both of you cozy, warm and safe.

You whined softly, rubbing your tired eyes with a balled fist. Matt cooed softly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head- pulling you closer. 

“How’s your hand feeling?” Matt asked, earning a soft shrug from you. You lifted up your hand, pout on your lips.

“Dada ‘ss it.” You murmured, giving your caregiver your award-winning puppy dog eyes. Matt’s lips curled upwards at your words, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand- hoping his caregiver-magic would help the wound heal faster.

“I’m really sorry sweet girl,” Matt apologized for a final time. You thought for a moment before snuggling further into Matt’s chest, “...’s okay. Still’da best dada ever.” You smiled.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr @babybatxxx @ivysturnss

@natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @flow3rsturns13

@pkfferoo @pixxiies @mattsturnswhore @17welch17 @pinksikhewei

@v33angel @conspiracy-ash @hoes4matthew @elislytherpuffsturn

@mattsturnsgirlie

[httpsserene]

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐬 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!) - 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. idiots in love. mild angst. fluff. happy ending. attempt at humor. plot with a side of porn. the timeline is mostly accurate. max verstappen is an oblivious idiot. daniel ricciardo is an obvious idiot. 5+1 things (in a way). the three musketeers: charles, pierre, and lando. light praise kink. light dom/sub undertones. mild orgasm delay/denial. 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 9.5k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: so....how's life been treating y'all while i disappeared for two months :) ? no, um, sorry for ghosting you guys; i know, i'm surprised that i didn't forget my login info. life started being life for a good amount of time and i got really sucked into school and work. aside from the boring everyday stuff, i've got an internship this summer (yay!), i'm pretty sure i have a bit of a mutual-crush with this boy in my morning lecture, and i've started playing final fantasy sixteen.

anyways, this is my longest work ever! and i'm dedicating it to one of my sweetest betas, bianca. you requested this long before my disappearing act in december, and i told you i was nearly finished with a 6k-word fic for your request. to make up for my unexplained absence, i rewrote the entire thing into a near ten-thousand word feel-good masterpiece.

i hope this fic is of good enough quality for all of you wonderful f1-stans to forgive me because, i'm back, and hopefuily here to stay lol. enjoy reading, loves &lt; 3.

requested & written by/for @biancathecool

join taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents↻

milton keynes, red bull racing headquarters, pre-season 2023

daniel looks happy. max doesn’t know why that surprises him—maybe he’s projecting his emotions (his therapist says he does that quite often) onto the man. the surprise makes sense though, max thinks, as he watches the australian chatter away with the engineers, the largest toothy smile spread across his face like he never left red bull behind in 2018. if it were max who had gone through the mclaren bullshit along with not having a guaranteed seat for the upcoming 2023 season, and he had to settle for a third driver position: he would scourge the world with his fury.

but: it’s not max, it’s daniel. it’s daniel, who was warmly welcomed back into navy blue (papaya did not suit him), it’s daniel, who doesn’t snap at the marketing team when they ask how he’s “coping” with not being on the grid. it’s daniel, who becomes friends with checo easily. it’s daniel, who’s scheduled to fulfill the pr activities that the two red bull drivers refuse to complete. it’s daniel, who has clocked in insane hours in the sim and factory while max has been enjoying his off-season. 

it’s daniel, who hasn’t shown any signs of disappointment about not having a seat this year.

if he won’t show or admit it, max will. having a race weekend without daniel doesn’t feel right. max knows this, even though the season hasn’t started yet: he’s going to be miserable. it’s like when daniel left him the team. of course, max had pushed daniel away after he signed with renault. what was he supposed to do? react calmly with the emotional intelligence he didn’t have? max thought the man hated him when he didn’t tell him that he was leaving before the news was released. 

regardless, instead of the australian leaving, this time around he’s coming back, which max had originally believed was the best thing to ever happen. he’s not so sure of that anymore. daniel belongs in the car chasing him with the smell of burning rubber and petrol surrounding them. max doesn’t appreciate how the smell of race tracks has already disappeared from him. he could tell it was missing when daniel made a show of giving max the biggest hug as soon as he stepped foot in the factory.

maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness.

“max, kid,” christian waves a hand in front of max’s face with an unimpressed look, “did you hear a single thing i said or were you too distracted by the sight of daniel in red bull gear again?”

the tips of max’s ears redden, and he snaps his head away from where it was turned to watch daniel’s constant smile, to face his team principal. max doesn’t know what he was thinking; his crush is going nowhere.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑.

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35

© httpsserene 2023

[ashton-sano]

HxH: Feitan w/ a Strong! S/o Pt.1(?)

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`>When I say strong, the reader, in this case, would be as physically capable and have nen and/or abilities comparable to Feitan. I see a lot of headcanons but not many like this

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`>Getting back into the HXH fandom slowly so while I'm working on some more Food Wars! Content, have these since this gremlin has been plaguing my mind lol. If this gets enough love, ill make a part 2 so tell me what you all think :3

Warning: Murder, Stalking and Strong language

So if you a minor, beware.

.

-To start, he might be a tad put off

-It's pretty rare to find someone with such prowess, especially ones that don't have less than-savory intentions

-Id assume you met on a battlefield of some kind or while he was on one of his missions with the troupe

-Just like him, you aren't exactly the upstanding citizen type and are committing crimes of some sort when you encounter

-Whether stealing the same things or killing the same people, you two have similar goals, regardless of the reason

-To be fair, he didn't think much of you when you first appeared

  "How. Troublesome...."

-An annoying obstacle, someone to dispatch quickly

-However, after a rather tedious fight and a good amount of bruises, he realized it might not be that simple

-Your moves were calculated and precise, and your battle iq no doubt honed over years of experience with nen abilities that even he found difficult to handle

-His interest was certainly piqued, as much as it can for Feitan anyway

-You’ll hand it to him; its been a while since you've seen his level of strength

-A true master of his craft, no doubt

-Regardless, that isn't why you were here

-You came to rid of a target and with your mission accomplished, there was no reason to stay, no matter how curious you were about the extent of his ability

-You were swift at your exit, swift enough that Feitan only caught your figure leaving from the corner of his eye

-Admittedly you've sparked more than enough of his interest

-something about your very being itched him in a way he couldn't describe and lingered his thoughts for moments too long

-Like it or not, your existence loomed his mind awkwardly and gave his chest a tighten

-Indescribably annoying

'Must. know. about. Her. Get rid of stupid feeling.”

-now we all know Feitan is no short of deranged and sadistic so it is no telling if he wanted to know for devious reasons or other

-Whatever the case, it led to him talking Shalnark into researching deep (and I mean very deep) into you

-Playing it off as a simple inquiry, he found you, a picture attached to your profile albeit a very blurry one

-All that he could get was your name and Age

"Y/n. Interesting. Name."

Shalnark is confused

-That's how he got here, peeping from your window as you rest

-Even with such little information, finding you was trivially easy

-Your apartment was small, compact he’d say

-Nothing compared to the places he’s layed his head: cold, dark, and filthy on a good day

-He spent the night watching you sleep, noticing every ministration, every time you got up abruptly and checked your surroundings, nearly certain something was amiss

-He didn't expect peeping on you to be so trepidatious

-That didn't stop him from stopping by every time he wasn't busy to check up and watch you

-Days became weeks and months flew by as he kept this cycle going

-It eventually got to the point that he'd follow you to and from your house

-He was searching and, surprisingly, unsure of what for

-He's never felt any particular connection to people outside of the spiders so it was usually easy to write it off as mindless curiosity

-He just wants to know why you interest him so much, and nothing more

-That's how he ended up in your house when you left for your 8 am morning run, which took you approx. 30 minutes to finish as of this week

-He was just checking your clothes because he wished to know where you frequented, perhaps he could lie in waiting as you shopped, snatching your jugular and relenting this pounding in his chest that paces just a few beats quicker

-He only checks the food you eat to see what your diet consists of, perhaps to poison you as your gaze falters from your plate, even if just for a second, permanently killing the heat that rises against his skin at the thought of you

-He doesn't care about you; he just wants to know your weaknesses to exploit, that’s all

-If that were true, then why was he in your room when you weren't? Taking in your scent as if an attached dog 

-Surely he could've killed you thousands of times over in the dead of your sleep; a slit to your throat would've ended this and yet he feels pulled to let you live 

“Just. one. More day.”

 -If it didn't matter, if you didn't matter, why did he effectively remove any potential romantic partner from your life?

-It's just to make you easier to kill; it's just to make you easier to kill, it's just to make you easier to take. No! Kill...not take...

-What was once curiosity became more of a crippling obsession.

-He had to know everything—what you were doing, who you spoke to, and what you ate in the morning

-You captivated him and even if he couldn't understand it, you had him wrapped around your finger without so much as a word 

-Ever since your mission 4 months ago, a certain feeling has lingered your consciousness and kept you on edge with no clue as to the source

-Things went missing, your associates became distant—well, more distant than you kept them—and your kills have become suspiciously easier.

-To the average person, such a prospect would strike fear and cause for trepidation

-Did you think I wasn't aware that he'd been watching me?

-All credit goes to him, spotting him was the hardest part

-He only let his presence be known through peeks of his bloodlust spilling before he vanished in the same motion, which gave away how seasoned he was

It was hard to tell if he wanted me to find him with how obvious his actions became; no, the word would be bold. His actions have gone from stealing articles from the back of my closet to lacing food when he was sure I hadn't seen him 

-Playing dumb was the easy part; actually avoiding his kidnapping attempt(s) was certainly a challenge 

-Before long, you could see the desperation in his nen

“You're getting sloppy, Stalker.”

-I suppose you've worked hard, stalker, I’ll let you win just this once

[sebuckyverse]

for a good time, call [4]

modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson is a burnt out rockstar, touring the country. When he finds a phone number written on a bathroom wall, he strikes an unusual friendship with a coffee shop barista who has no idea who he is.

warnings: 18+ cussing, m!masturbation, dirty talk, flirting, self-doubt, misunderstandings, mutual pining, angst, strangers to friends to lovers word count: 5,2k

an: the penultimate chapter!! i'm sorry for... the ending mwahaha, i love pain y'all know that. anyway i hope you like it as always, pls let me know. don't forget to reblog babes! <3

chapter three ♫ masterlist ♫ askbox

chapter four ♫♪♩·.¸¸

Eddie's in New York. He loves this city, the one that never sleeps. It's so different from Hawkins. New York is fast paced, bustling crowds full of people rushing to wherever they were going. Eddie feels like he blends in, no one pays attention to him because they don't have the time typically. The past two weeks have been quick, time is flying by with the end of the year in sight. Eddie's been busy too. Besides his usual routine of touring, he's been silently seeking new management. He's had a couple meetings with potential new managers, under the radar of course. They were both successful, he'd say. But there was one woman who he really liked. She was a bit older, in her 40s maybe, but she was smart, experienced and compassionate when Eddie talked about his professional struggles with his current team. She kind of reminded him of his mom, too...

The two shows they have in Madison Square Garden start tomorrow and to be honest, he feels bittersweet about it. This is literally his dream coming true, both shows have been nearly sold out too. While he's extremely grateful to be playing at one of the biggest stages, he feels guilt and shame, it's been gnawing his stomach the moment they arrived in the city last night. He didn't get much sleep over it, either, and he gave up trying when the sun first peeked out from the horizon.

It's only a little after 7am, when he takes a walk through the concrete jungle, walking past the Garden with the Empire State Building looming behind it. He's in comfortable clothes - light blue jeans, ripped at the left knee and right thigh, a simple grey hoodie pulled over his head, with his hair in a low bun underneath and his signature jean vest pulled on top, rocking a pair of white high top sneakers on his feet. And since it was early morning and he wasn't in work mode yet, he had his glasses on. Round shaped with thick, clear rims. From his left pocket, he pulls out his phone and finally dials the number he's been avoiding like the plague.

''Eddie? Is that you, son?'' Wayne's voice shoots out after a couple of rings.

''Yeah, it's me.'' Eddie sighs, thankful he was outside as he could already feel his chest tightening. ''Before you say anything, j-just let me explain, please.''

Wayne doesn't say anything and Eddie takes a deep breath before letting go, ''I've been stupid and selfish. I've let other people control me and my life for so long now, when I should've been the one in charge. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I trusted the wrong people. I pushed you away because you were the only sensible thing I had left and I didn't want you to see the loser I had become. Unbeknownst to them, someone has helped me see the things a bit more clearly. I'm still figuring some stuff out, but I just wanted you to know that I'm really fucking sorry and I miss you.''

He feels like a ton has been lifted off his shoulders. Eddie sniffs and clears his throat. It takes Wayne a minute to process, so he just keeps walking in silence.

''First of all, you're not stupid. You're young and making mistakes is part of growing up. Now I would have appreciated if you had figured things out sooner, but I'm glad you did. I didn't want to push too much, I knew you needed to fight your way out of this yourself. I've been keeping tabs on you, some kids showed me the way around a computer.'' Wayne chuckles and it makes Eddie huff along, too. ''I miss you too, son. You're the furthest thing from a failure, Ed, and I'm very proud of you. You're a brilliant young man, I need you to remember that.''

Eddie swallows thickly, fixing his glasses. ''You're the one I look up to, so whatever I may be - it all came from you.''

''Oh, I don't know about any of that,'' his uncle drawls, ''you were always independent, looked out for yourself. I was just there when you needed me.''

''I always need you. I'm in New York right now, we're playing the Garden... Like I always wanted,'' Eddie says, his voice getting quieter.

''What's the matter then? You don't sound too happy about it.''

''No, I am,'' Eddie defended, ''It's just weird without you here, I guess I always pictured it differently. I was thinking - maybe I could fly you out for a show?''

''I'd like that. Not tomorrow though, I'm working,'' Wayne replied and Eddie smiled to himself, blinking away the (happy) tears that threatened to fall.

''That's fine, the day after tomorrow then? It's two shows.''

''Sounds like a plan.''

''Shit, okay. Let me work out some details and I'll text you later?''

''That's fine, Ed. Listen, I'm thrilled that you called but duty calls. I have used up all of my smoke break minutes for today,'' Wayne joked.

''Yeah, okay.'' Eddie chuckled. ''I'll see you in two days, then.''

''Two days,'' his uncle confirmed.

They said their goodbyes and Eddie hung up, unable to process what just happened. He mentally kicked himself for not doing this sooner, he would have felt a lot better a long time ago. With a lot more prep in his step, Eddie googled the nearest coffee shop. He needed the caffeine for today and his stomach was grumbling, he left the hotel way before breakfast was served. After following the instructions his phone told him, he arrived in front of a corner shop with. He stood in front of it, hesitating. Is this were you worked at? What would he do if you did? He could already see a girl behind the counter - was that you? He had no idea what you looked like. Would he recognize you by just your voice? Only one way to find out.

He pulled the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm bread hitting him in a wave.

''Good morning,'' the girl behind the counter cheered. She sounded similar, sure, but he couldn't tell 100%.

''Uh, hi.'' Eddie stepped closer to the counter, pretending to look around.

''What can I get- oh, it's you.'' the girl gasped and Eddie froze. ''You're Eddie, right?'' she whispered.

Oh shit, was this it? Was it you? He didn't feel like it was you. He had a special feeling whenever he talked to you, which you two had been doing almost every day now. He had started feeling shitty about not coming clean about who he was, you had opened up so much already, when he had only given you crumbs. You didn't seem to mind though, or if you did you didn't show it.

''Yeah..'' Eddie blinked, playing with his glasses, his hands shaking a little bit.

''Wow, you're really cool. I saw you and your band live a few weeks ago. You're great!'' she said coolly, a polite smile on her face.

Eddie smile back politely, hiding his disappointment. It wasn't you, obviously. He was stupid to think he'd find you at the very first coffee shop he set his foot in. ''Oh, thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.''

''Yeah, I have to admit I wasn't a fan before, but my girlfriend dragged me along. Anyway, I actually really liked it, so...''

''Hey, that's cool. Anyway,'' he cleared his throat, ''you got any good coffee?''

''Oh, for sure. Here or to go? What kind of coffee would you like?''

Eddie gave his order and she typed away on her screen. Black coffee, medium size, two sugars, to go. His empty stomach also didn't go unnoticed. ''Got any pastry recommendations?''

''Sweet or savoury?'' the girl asked, sliding his cup towards him on the counter, topping it with a lid.

''I'm not sure. Sweet maybe?'' Eddie cocked his head, looking at the display of shiny golden bread in front of him.

''I'd recommend the chocolate croissant or the almond buttercream eclair. The croissant is our most popular one, but the eclair is my friends favorite.''

''I'll go with the eclair then,'' he decided, pulling out his wallet and digging for some cash.

The girl packed his pastry in a box and placed it on the counter next to his coffee. Eddie threw her a twenty, even though his bill was 11 dollars. ''Keep the change. You've been most helpful...''

''Robin,'' she finished.

''Robin, thank you. Hope to see you at another show!''

Eddie walked the long way back to the hotel, sipping his coffee and munching on his eclair. Both of which were incredible, by the way. He figured he'd go back if he had the time. When he got back to his room, he had finished the food and took the last sip of coffee, throwing it in the empty basket under the desk.

.•♫•♬•

You were out of the city, in Brooklyn, near Brighton Beach where your parents lived. You had taken four days off work to come dog sit your parents dog while they went on a 3-night spa getaway. You were walking Dolly, your parents' 4 year old French bulldog, through the all familiar streets of where you grew up. There was a farmers' market in town, so you headed there, Dolly leading the way. You picked up vegetables for a soup you were making later, some herbs and a whole bag of kiwis.

Making your way back to your parents' house, your mind drifted to where it always was these days, Eddie. You'd been speaking for a while now, and there was an itch at the back of your mind. You were holding back the urge to google him. It was natural, you though, you could then easily put a face to the voice you had been speaking with. Any normal person would hop straight on the internet when they find out they're talking to a celebrity, right?

You didn't want to be that girl, but you did wonder what kind of relationship you had with him. It's been what, like a month, you went from complete strangers to friends, to him coaxing you to an orgasm over the phone, to... what? You couldn't call him just a friend anymore, it felt more than that. Friends don't have phone sex, either. You had feelings for him, romantic ones. They were simmering, like hot soup under a lid. You didn't want to bring it up first too, asking the age old question - what are we? That would scare him off for sure.

You got back to the house just before it started drizzling rain. You removed your coat, hat and gloves then cleaned Dolly up and let her roam the house. You grabbed your purchases and made your way to the kitchen, where your phone was charging on the island. You saw that you had a message from Robin, multiple messages actually. You grabbed the device and unlocked it, swiping through her messages.

11.52am - Robin ''OMG you have no idea who I met this morning!''

11.52am - Robin ''I would call you but we're so busy today, I'm literally peeing right now so I could text you.''

11.52am - Robin ''EDDIE MUNSON was here, I can't believe it. I texted Cherry too, she's been here since 8am. Said she's gonna be here all day in the off chance he comes back. She wants a pic.''

11.52am - Robin ''Anyway, he's from that band we saw about a month ago. Really sexy up close!!''

You blinked, staring at the screen. You were only focused on two words, a name really. Eddie Munson... From a band. A musician, then. Your heart thumped in your chest. Was it him? You didn't really believe in silly coincidences. Finally breaking, you quickly pulled up the search bar and googled the name. A ton of pictures, videos, news articles popped up. You only intended on looking at pictures, you didn't mean to look at the news articles. But once you started, you fell down the rabbit hole, unable to get out.

Corroded Coffin star Eddie Munson seen leaving restaurant with Victoria's Secret model.

'Eddie Munson snorted coke off my ass' ex-girlfriend Madeline claims!

Corroded Coffin frontman leaving band? Manager denies claim!

You read through multiple articles, all accompanied with pictures of him. A woman next to him in every photo, tall, skinny, perfect skin. You didn't concentrate too much on the women, otherwise you'd only hurt your own feelings. You looked at him, marveling at different angles taken of him on stage, his long wild hair flipping in the air.

''Oh shit,'' you gasped as you remembered a few weeks ago, when he first called you. You had walked by a poster of him without even knowing who it was. But looking at the pictures on your phone, you knew it was your Eddie. You felt it in your bones.

You went to Youtube and searched his name there too. You noticed a late night interview he had done, uploaded just last week. You clicked on it and watched the whole thing. You felt strange watching him like this. He wasn't just some faceless fantasy you had developed feelings for, he was real. He talked animatedly with the host, talking about their tour.

''Yeah, we're super excited. Very grateful to be playing Madison Square Garden next week, two shows. It's wild.''

Madison Square Garden? New York? Next week - this week, then? This was the first time you were hearing about any of this. It was already the middle of the week. You went to Instagram, searched up Corroded Coffins account (surprisingly, you didn't find Eddie's personal account) and clicked on it. There was a new picture uploaded, just an hour ago. Eddie was standing in front of the arena's entrance, his back facing the camera. And there he was, in your city, without telling you.

You took a deep breath. It's fine, it's only the afternoon. He's probably busy. You followed the account and looked through their stories. There was a reposted story of someone else's, it was a picture of a girl holding two tickets. What caught you off guard, however, was the caption of the photo.

''Thanks for the VIP tickets Eddie! Can't wait to see you tonight!!''

Then you noticed the girl's username and it seemed familiar. It clicked to you that it was the same Madeline you read about earlier, his ex then.

Your stomach dropped. He hasn't mentioned anything to you about being in New York, but invites his ex to go see him, probably backstage too. God knows if they were even broken up, you certainly wouldn't know. You felt betrayed, stupid for not being cautious enough. You believed every word he had said, never having a reason to doubt he might be lying about anything. Were you just some distraction for him? Was he just pulling you along because he was bored? Maybe this is why he was hesitant to reveal who he was, maybe he was scared you would find out who he was and catch on to him.

Just as you felt tears of frustration pool in your eyes, he texted you, almost like he could sense something was wrong.

13.01pm - Eddie ''Hey Kiwi girl, how are you? Miss you!''

Frustrated that he could still make your stomach turn upside down, you called Robin instead.

''Hey babe, called at just the right time, I just went on lunch. It's a madhouse today. Did you see what I texted you by the way?'' Robin rambled on the other side.

''Yeah.. I know him.''

''What? No, you don't. You don't listen to that kind of music.''

''Rob, I know him. He's the guy I've been texting,'' you admitted.

''What?!'' she shrieked. ''When? How?''

You sighed, dropping onto the living room couch, bringing your legs underneath you. ''I just found out myself. He told me his name was Eddie and that he was a musician but that's all I knew. I just put the pieces together when you texted.''

''That's insane!'' Robin replied, her words muffled as she was crunching on something. ''Are you going to meet him, then? Are they playing a show?''

''Yeah, tomorrow. He didn't even tell me he was coming, though...''

''Really? That's strange. I thought you said you liked him.''

''Yeah, I do! I don't think he feels the same,'' you swallowed the lump in your throat. ''I found out he sent his ex some tickets though.''

''No fucking way,'' your best friend noted.

''Way.''

''Maybe it's all just a misunderstanding,'' she offered tenderly.

''Pff, or maybe it was too good to be true. Maybe I was an idiot, like always.''

''Hey! You are not an idiot. If everything you said is true then he is a scumbag and I'm on your side, always. I can let Cherry know, too. She'll probably pepper spray him the next time she sees him.''

''I don't condone that, but thanks,'' you chuckled, picking at the woolly fabric of the armrest.

''What if you just asked him about it?''

''I don't know,'' you dragged out the words, letting Dolly hop on the couch and snuggle up to you. ''What makes you think he'd tell the truth?''

''Would he have a reason to lie?'' she asked.

''No? I'm not sure.''

''See - that's why you have to find out! You don't even know what's going on but you're already jumping to conclusions. That's not fair to him either.''

''Why do you always have to make so much sense?'' you sighed, feeling guilty that you had assumed things too quickly. Maybe she was right, Eddie had mentioned things being written about him in the tabloids. Most of the times, the media grasps onto any straw they can, whether it be true or false. You couldn't allow yourself to fall into that trap. ''So I just tell him I figured out who he is?''

''Might as well. How long can you guys keep this anonymity up, anyway.''

''That's true,'' you quipped, deep in thought. ''What did he order today, by the way?''

.•♫•♬•

Eddie was nervous. He sent you that text five hours ago and you had yet to reply. You hadn't even opened it. It's unusual for you to not reply for this long, Eddie was starting to get worried. Had something happened to you? He's been trying to buy plane tickets for Wayne for about an hour now, without luck as he keeps getting distracted. He decided to take a break when he typed in his email address incorrectly, three times. He had a list of things he was supposed to get done today, but so far he had managed to do nothing. He needed to pick out an outfit for tomorrow's show, he had to ask someone to get him a new pair of contacts because he lost his, get tickets for Wayne obviously.

Just as he was about to send you another text, you called him. He picked up instantly.

''Y/N, hey. I was getting worried.''

''Sorry, I was... I was actually ignoring you.''

Confused, Eddie sat up straighter. ''Why? Did I do something wrong, did I say something to upset you?''

''No, it's actually what you didn't do,'' you sing-songed in response. ''Enjoy that eclair today, Eddie?''

Time stilled, the Earth ceased rotating, Eddie stopped breathing. ''H-how do you know about that?''

''My best friend Robin told me,'' you said matter-of-factly. Eddie almost dropped his phone. This wasn't happening. Robin? Rob!? He couldn't believe he didn't put two and two together this morning, even as it was staring at him right in the face. He was there, where you worked. He talked to your best friend. Eddie felt like he was in that movie The Lakehouse, where the two characters were at the same place, but at a different time.

''You didn't tell me you were playing at the Garden tomorrow,'' you teased him but he could also hear the note of sadness.

''I'm sorry,'' he blurted out, ''I meant to tell you, I swear! It's just... You're so good and I didn't think you would be interested in me, apart from this,'' he gestured to the phone as if somehow you could see it, but you still seemed to catch on.

''Oh, Eddie. That's not true. Look, I can't lie to you. I did google you after Robin called me and said that the famous Eddie Munson came by.''

Not gonna lie, his full name sounded heavenly coming from you. He was relieved, mostly, that now you knew everything. He didn't have to hold back anymore.

''And I saw some things, for sure. Did you really snort cocaine off of someone's ass?''

''Oh my fucking God,'' he groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. ''That is the worst rumor I've ever heard about myself. I definitely didn't, you can trust me on that.''

''Okay,'' you giggled and Eddie felt lighter already. ''But, um, would you like to meet, then? It's okay if you don't, there's-''

''Yes.''

''Oh, okay, good,'' now you were the one who sounded nervous, breathing uneven into the microphone.

''Can you come to the show tomorrow? I'd see you right fucking now if I could, but today won't work out for me. I can put your name on a list, you just say it at the door and they'll let you in.''

''Yeah, I can do that.''

He smiled, biting his bottom lip. ''Can't wait, sweetheart.''

''If you think you're off the hook that easy, Eddie Munson, think again.''

Wiped that smile right off his face.

''What are you doing right now?'' you asked.

''Uh, nothing, just at my hotel room.''

''Good, can you lay down on the bed for me, pretty boy?''

Shit.

Eddie followed your command and laid down, resting his head against the soft pillows, his legs splayed wide on the bed.

''Now I want you to take out your cock and stroke it 'til it's hard,'' you instructed, voice smooth as honey. ''I saw pictures of you, you're real pretty, Eds.''

Eddie whimpered at the compliment, his cheeks flushing. He switched his phone so he could push his sweatpants down, just enough so he could free his already half hard member. Spitting in his hand, he wrapped his fist around himself, pulling on it slowly, smearing his spit all over the head.

''Such a good boy, I can already hear it. Does that feel good?''

''Y-yeah,'' Eddie's hips bucked as he ran his fist up and down, gripping tightly at the base and then running back up again, brushing his thumb over the slit, pre-cum dripping.

''Keep going, tell me how good it feels.''

''So good,'' his chest heaving, bolts of pleasure shooting up his veins, he continued to pump himself. ''Wish it was your hand instead, o-or your mouth or pussy, fuck.''

''What about my ass, Eddie? Would you fuck my asshole too if I asked?''

''Jesusss...''

''Tell me when you're close,'' you moaned out, just to stir him on.

''I'm about two seconds away from busting.''

''Stop!'' you barked.

''What? What happened?''

''Oh, you don't get to cum. Take that as your punishment,'' your evil laugh ranged through the phone.

''Fuck, you're mean,'' he groaned, fisting the sheets below him to stop himself from going back to his cock. ''I hope this isn't too forward, but I'm going to fuck the shit out of you tomorrow.''

.•♫•♬•

The day is here, finally you would meet Eddie. This whole thing has been fast, you admit, it's only been a month or so. Somehow that didn't scare you, like you thought it might. You were buzzing with excitement, even a little nauseous. You were a little anxious as well, it always made your tummy sensitive, so you had a small breakfast that morning.

Robin had agreed to come watch Dolly while you were away, probably dragging Cherry along, too. The day seemed to drag on and on. Robin promised to be there an hour before you had to leave to hype you up - that's what she said.

You didn't sleep last night, thinking how tonight will go. You weren't so much nervous to meet him, you already know what he looks like, who he is. What tugged at the back of your mind was, what would he think of you. You didn't look anything like the girls he had been pictured with. You didn't think you were ugly either, you were just... you. Would you be enough?

When you decide it was time to get ready, you showered and shaved every inch of your body, Eddie's promise last night very fresh in your mind, still. Since you didn't expect to go to a rock concert tonight, your outfit would have to do with whatever you packed. You were torn between a skirt or pants. Figuring the atmosphere would most likely be.. heavy, you went with the safe option of your black jeans. You matched them with a graphic tee, paired with shiny black Dr. Martens boots. Make up simple, as again, you didn't prepare for this and didn't have time to make a stop at home - mascara, some powder, a nude gloss.

Robin knocked on the front door just as you were screwed the cap back on your lipgloss. You let her in, Cherry following behind just as you thought. ''You look bomb, but just so you know, I would much rather be at the show than babysit some smushed face baby seal.''

As if Cherry had blown a dog whistle, Dolly appeared from the living room and trotted right up to her. ''Oh, hiii.''

You rolled your eyes in amusement. ''Your girlfriend is weird.''

Robin pulled you into a hug. ''She's just upset she can't go to the show. But I told her we're helping with the love story of the century and she caved. Cherry loves love.''

''Don't be dramatic,'' you huffed.

You walked Robin through the basics about Donna, what and how much to feed her, when she wants to go outside. Cherry was meanwhile busy rubbing baby seal's belly.

You slipped on your jacket and said your goodbyes, Robin wishing you good luck and hopped in your car. The drive back only took about 20 minutes, but it was enough time to fill your body with nerves. It took a few minutes to find a parking space, but you were lucky as you found one pretty close to the building. People were already lined up, but it looked like the line was moving at a normal pace, the doors were already open. You followed in line with others, seeing the entrance up ahead, Corroded Coffin's name on the billboard above it in big bold letters. You got to the front considerably quickly, the security guard asking for your ticket.

''Um, I'm supposed to be on the list, I think.'' You told him your name and the guy scanned his tablet, then nodded and let you through after taking a quick glance at your crossbody purse.

The floor was open plan, seating only on the upper floors. You made your way somewhere to the left hand side, as the first floor was already full of people. It was a bit far, but you could still see the stage. The microphones were already lined up, drum set at the back of the stage. It was 5 minutes until the opening act, when you got a text.

21.55pm - Eddie ''Are you here?''

21.56pm - Y/N ''Yes.''

21.56pm - Eddie ''What are you wearing? ;)''

21.56pm - Y/N ''Idiot.''

After a couple minutes, the lights went out and the opening act took to the stage, to a lukewarm reception. The band was alright, you guessed, you had never heard of them obviously. You bobbed your head to some of the songs, even took a few pictures. The set went by quick and now you only had to wait 30 more minutes for the main act, to the one you were here for.

By the time it was time for the main event, more people had filled the arena and now you were pretty squished, girls and guys on every side of you. You squeezed past some people, looking for more room at the back. You found a big enough space and settled there. The lights went out again and this time, the crowd roared. Music started playing and the drummer came out first, followed by three other guys a minute later. There he was, in all of his glory, guitar strapped over his shoulder. He smirked at the crowd and hit the first note on his guitar, followed by the high pitch eruption of women in the audience.

The show started, and though this music was not your prefered genre, you were absolutely mesmerized. Eddie's stage presence was magnetic, he owned the the entire arena. All eyes were on him as he strummed different notes and flipped his hair around, screaming, singing and even moaning into the microphone. People yelled, jumped, pushed around. Not to mention the mosh pit in the middle of the floor.

As Eddie sang the songs, his eyes kept looking around. Was he looking for you? You wanted to scoot closer, but it was impossible. The crowd was wild even at the back, you couldn't even imagine what was happening at the barricade.

They played for more than an hour. As the show came to a close, you clapped and cheered just like everybody else. He was amazing, the band was amazing. They all bowed, the bassist threw his picks at the girls in front of him. Eddie thanked the audience, his voice tired and raspy and so sexy. ''Hey Kiwi girl, come find me.''

You blushed, though nobody knew he was talking about you. You waited a while, watching the crowd slowly pushing out, before you had any room to made to the front. You made it to the barricade and and called another security guard over.

''Hi, I think I'm supposed to go backstage.'' You told him your name and that you had an invite from Eddie himself. He took a sceptic look at you and spoke something into his walkie talkie before ushering you closer and helping you over the railing.

He asked you to follow him and lead the way from the stage through a door, into a long corridor. Your ears were ringing from the loud music and your heart was doing flips. ''It's the last door to the left.''

You thanked the guard and he left. You took a deep breath and walked to the door, raising your hand to know, but the door flew open before you had the chance.

''Oh, sorry. Are you looking for someone?'' a guy, who you recognized as the drummer, asked. His face was all sweaty and he was holding a towel in his hand. There was commotion coming from the room and you looked over his shoulder, your breath hitching as you saw Eddie sitting on a sofa.

But he wasn't alone, far from it. Sitting next to him was the same girl, Madeline, her arms on his shoulders. Kissing him.

.•♫•♬•

tags: @hellfirewhore @ceriseheaven @feralgoblinbabe @ethereal27cereal @mystars123 @munsonsuccubus @alizztor @tlclick73 @nojamsonmytoast @b-irock @harringtonshairychest @hellkaisersangel @mcueveryday @other-world-s @santheweird @nightless @hiscrimsonangel @ali-r3n @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @tayhar811 @sarawithasword @eddiesluvt @maddieluvseddie @hellfires-harlot @dollalicia @donnavivienne @ashlynnkennedy @dumbblonde1630 @sanzu-holic @dontslayfay @eddieswife16 @bebe0701 @ganjababie @sidthedollface2 @brittanyyydamnit @lezzy-bennet @bibliophilewednesday @qcueef @rogers-sweatbands @christalcake @episcogoth @beep-beep-sherlock @milkymil-k

[magicpotatothoughts]

I NEVER REALLY UNDERSTOOD LUO BINGHE UNTIL NOW

Holy shit I was so swayed by SQQ’s POV that I honestly never truly understood LBH’s intentions until I read this line In Ch 2 (SVSSS Seven Seas)/Ch 13 at the demonic evasion arc:

When a person is affected with Without a Cure, starting from their wound, their spiritual flow becomes disconnected. This schism slowly spreads to their entire body. In the end, not only does their spiritual qi coagulate and stagnate, so does their blood."

So then when in Ch 6 (SVSSS SS)/Ch 34, LBH fed SQQ his blood and subsequently used his blood to seemingly "torment" SQQ during the water prison arc, all of this got me thinking....

What if everything LBH did with his demonic blood this entire time was to save SQQ from Without a Cure?

Like yes, he probably did have other intentions such as tracking him, making SQQ horrified at the fact that he has demon blood inside him when he hated demons so much but I honestly think the main reason LBH forced SQQ to drink his blood, and I would even go further as to say that his main motivation when he trained under Meng Mo, was not to become the “strongest” in the general sense but to heal SQQ. Hear me out. The first thought white lotus LBH has when SQQ got poisoned in Ch2/13 was

the demons had harmed his teacher to the point that he might be crippled—he might even lose his life. And all because of him.

LBH probably was a direct witness to how a whole team of Cang Qiong mountain peak lords needed to revolve around SQQ, with Mu Qingfang constantly providing prescriptions and LQG clearing his meridians and probably YQY hovering around SQQ dying with worries, to maintain his health post the SHL -demon evasion, he must have felt absolutely terrible about it! And that guilt literally haunted our bing-pup like he never once stopped thinking about it; no wonder he offered himself to take care of everything including the nutrition of SQQ's food, snaccs, water, small-big errands, and even wanted to pick that "Snow something Lotus" flower for Shizun! Without a Cure affecting SQQ was on LBH's mind ever since he was 15 and for all 3 years he was in the Endless Abyss.

This is absolutely evident when black lotus LBH returned and started to chase SQQ, SQQ's inner monologue was cursing how Without a Cure is stagnating his ability to coordinate and run, I am certain that LBH was not blind to just how much SQQ was struggling with that poison in his body. My theory was further confirmed when LBH finally caught up to SQQ:

“While Shen Qingqiu was still in the midst of confusion, Luo Binghe flipped his hand over. “You were infected?” .....“This hand of Shizun’s is plagued with misfortunes.”

Bruh, LBH may be giving the sadistic energy of an abandoned demonic child (thanks SQQ unreliable narrator) but here is clear evidence that the thing he was most worried about is SQQ's blood coagulating and him dying of demonic poison. What this tells me is that Without a Cure seemed to be activated and/or further exacerbated by other demonic poisons. LBH was also clearly still carrying the guilt of SQQ saving him with that hand! Following on immediately, what he did was 1) punch SQQ, then 2) says "An eye for an eye. Since Shizun sowed the seeds, he should reap the bitter fruit himself. Shizun should personally make up for himself" and 3) straight up fed SQQ his demonic blood.

White Lotus LBH never died. Both actions are for the benefit of SQQ, 1) I think he did this to get SQQ to cough up coagulated blood after SQQ was poisoned by that Jin Lan City sower and 3) LBH's quick return from Endless Abyss was so that he can feed Shizun his heavenly-blood to help cure him. I have reason to believe that LBH's demonic blood is the CURE to WITHOUT A CURE. Why else pay such specific attention to SQQ's hand out of literally any other body-part after a 3 year reunion?

But what I find most fascinating is 2) LBH’s words are nearly always laced with double meaning. “An eye for an eye” here isn’t necessarily just him blaming SQQ for kicking him and unlocking his demonic heritage but he wants to repay SQQ for taking on Without a Cure back then by giving him his demonic blood as a cure now. Another interpretation is that LBH deflected feeling the guilt of indirectly harming SQQ by verbally jabbing him. He tried to make SQQ feel guilty about tossing him into the Endless Abyss when he himself couldn't bare to think that his Shizun got hurt again on the same hand that saved him all those years ago. SQQ of course is an unreliable narrator and tricks us into thinking that LBH's actions matched his words when if we look closer, they're LITERALLY THE EXACT OPPOSITE.

Right after the reunion, SQQ "didn’t know how he made it back to the Jin Zi Weapons Shop," which has me believing that LBH must have been doing something to surpress SQQ's Without a Cure's effects with his demonic blood.

During the Water Prison arc, LBH seems like he is tormenting SQQ by demonic blood manipulation but if we really read carefully:

…strange sensation of something crawling inside his blood vessels....Luo Binghe said leisurely, “Spleen, kidneys, heart, lungs.” Though it wasn’t to the point of extraordinary anguish, it was still awful to suffer through.

Doesn't this sound like LBH trying to get the blood in SQQ flowing again to prevent coagulation after SQQ had been in presumably a seated position for a long time jailed in the Water prison? Once again, LBH's intentions behind his actions are the opposite of his words, he may be emotionally hurt by SQQ's silent response to him asking whether Shizun regrets kicking him down the Endless Abyss but his first and foremost concern is SQQ's health. This totally explains LBH's extremely low anger points! SQQ seemingly mistook LBH’s worry as anger! If SQQ asked the System for LBH's worrywart points, it would have been like ~the limit does not exist~. 🤯🤯🤯

Bruh, it’s so telling when Gongyi Xiao went to untie SQQ's immortal binding cables two days later when SQQ noted:

His spiritual energy was unmistakably back in operation and flowing smoothly. When he’d been imprisoned, he had been in the middle of a random Without a Cure flare-up, but after two days of being tied up by the immortal-binding cables, the poison had unexpectedly been suppressed again. Was this following the same principle as fighting fire with fire, or how two negatives make a positive?

No SQQ you oblivious gay, LBH was circulating your coagulating blood for you and suppressing the effects of your poison! We as readers can get so misled by SQQ constantly worrying about how Without a Cure randomly stops his spiritual powers that we forget about the actual main issue, blood stagnation and coagulation, which can absolutely kill him. Also, when SQQ escaped the Water Prison, LBH didn't try to manipulate the blood in SQQ's body because now he didn't need to, he’s done it already. He never wanted to do more than what was necessary for Shizun’s health. LBH tried to convince SQQ to come back when he could have used his powers. SQQ always had agency because LBH loves and respects him too much.

The next time SQQ got poisoned was by that sower who hid amongst the Huang Hua Palace disciples in Hua Yue city right before his self-detonation. He couldn't attack the sower with fire but then complained that it must have been Without a Cure that flared up again. Somehow, silly SQQ kept randomly getting himself poisoned so doesn’t it make sense that LBH keeps track of his Shizun so that his own demonic blood could notify him of any potential future SQQ demonic poisonings?

Bruh, the worrywart White-Lotus LBH never fucking died, SQQ ah SQQ you silly silly man. LBH has always been, even if he says hateful words, worried about you and your health and made it his top priority. What made LBH lose his mind though were

everytime LBH tries to save SQQ, SQQ thinks that he is using his demonic blood/demonic poison to do all these unfathomable things when using demonic poison is literally the last thing LBH would do because he has literal guilt trauma around it.

SQQ keeps calling LQG, GYX and literally anyone else to save him when LBH has been the one doing all the work.

Then we arrive at Xing Mo’s recoil exacerbating LBH’s insecurities.

“Shizun, look at what I’ve become. Am I strong enough? Do you know how I spent those years within the Endless Abyss? For three years underground, at all times and all moments, my mind thought only of Shizun. I wondered why Shizun would do this to me, why he refused to give me even a single chance to explain or plead my case.”

He did so much for Shizun’s health but never got a chance to explain why! And then when SQQ self-detonated, LBH thought:

Didn’t Shizun hate his blood more than anything? Wasn’t he unwilling to even be near him, to associate with him at all? So why, at the last moment, had he so gently helped to contain Luo Binghe’s mind, as tender as he had been in those years long past?

The blood here doesn't just have racist but literal connotations, LBH literally thought that SQQ hated the very demonic blood coursing through his veins, so that's why he kept forcing SQQ to drink it. LBH's every action, with me now looking back at all this evidence, is SO fricking justified. From his POV, isn't it more like SQQ is the constantly sick child throwing a tantrum about not wanting to drink bitter medicine? LBH, After all this effort of forcing himself to go through literal hell, training himself, chasing SQQ, imprisoning SQQ (LBH is giving Lan Wangji energy here) so that his Shizun can stop accidentally poisoning himself, SQQ somehow got put in harms way again but on top of that, died because of him. SQQ died whilst also restoring and reaffirming himself as the Shizun who had once been so good to him. 😭😭😭

All this absolute adds so much more weight as to why LBH was never ever going to let SQQ out of his sight ever again, as a corpse or alive, from that moment onwards.

[girlactionfigure]

Debunking the antisemitic  Talmud quotes meme promoted by @DanBilzerian and boosted by @RealCandaceO and her ilk

A thread.

Preface: None of this is new; most of these fake quotes originate from a couple of antisemitic German books that are over a hundred years old and they've been debunked over and over in many places. Sadly, most of them are not so accessible so I'll go over them myself. 

As far as my credentials, I'm a Rabbi who is in his second decade teaching Talmud for a living. This is something that occupies a large part of my day.

It's truly an eye-rolling moment whenever I see these quoted. Let me show you why:

1) Soferim 15

Mistranslation + taken out of context. 

In a discussion about generalities, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said that even the best members of your enemy nation, you should kill in a time of war instead of having mercy on them. This is rooted in the exodus from Egypt:

It says that after the plagues, when the Jews were in the midst of the sea, they were pursued by Pharoh and the rest of the egyptians on chariots. Now, how could they have chariots if all of their animals died in a plague?

Those who feared G-d brought them inside as per Moshe. 

So, they believed in the words of Moshe, they believed that G-d was sending those plagues on Egypt, and yet they still decided after seeing everything all the miracles they saw and knowing what they put the Jewish people through, to pursue them at sea in order to kill them. 

This is why Rabbi Shimon says that, in a time of war, don't have mercy on 'the best' of your enemies but rather kill them. We can see from this that they might have been the best members of their society but they still ultimately wanted to go through with their murderous intents. 

 Yevamot 98a

Fake translation, and out of context. 

There's a discussion about what happens when identical twin brothers converted, one marries a Jewish woman and he dies without having an heir: does his existing brother perform levirate marriage, or give her a form of divorce. 

There's a whole debate about whether or not he's permitted to do a levirate marriage.

One of the arguments that is brought is that since there's so much licentiousness in the non-Jewishness nation at the time, we don't know who is anyone's father as such, we don't allow it. 

To back this opinion, a verse from Ezekiel about the licentiousness of the Egyptians that compares their views on relationships with the way animals mate with each others without caring about who they mate with. 

So, in no way does it say that "children of non-Jews are animals." 

3) Bava Metzia 114b

Fake translation, and completely out of context. 

In short, there's a discussion about the idea of ritual purity, and whether the corpse of a non-Jew renders you impure if you touch their grave or not. According to Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel, no. Here's why: 

He quotes a verse in relation to ritual purity that says that only Jews are called "Adam." 

Now, antisemites translate this as meaning man. Except, there are four terms that define man: Adam, Ish, Enosh and Gever. They all have different spiritual meanings.

So, Rabbi Shimon is not saying here that "non-Jews are not human", there's nothing about how non-Jews are beast at all mentioned there. In fact, the ones being compared to animals here are Jews (sheep). 

4) Gad Shas 2:2 

This is a fake quote. There's no such thing as Gad Shas.

In fact, both the Bible &  Talmud prescribe lashes for a Jewish man who engages in relations with a non-Jewish girl whether for pleasure or "marriage" (such unions are not legally recognized as marriage). 

5) Avodah Zara 36b

Fake translation and out of context.

Yes, non-Jewish girls are considered niddah from birth. So is the status of any non-Jewish woman who is unmarried as well. And married women for nearly half a month. 

It has nothing to do with "filth" at all. 

In fact, the reason why the Rabbis decreed that non-Jewish women are considered to be in a state of niddah from birth is to make it an even worse punishment if a Jew were to stay and have relations with one of them.

The Torah is really big into not intermarriage. Lots of verses. 

6) Sanhedrin 54b

Fake translation & wildly out of context.

This is a discussion specifically about *forbidden relationships* and whether it makes you susceptible to the death penalty. What's debated here is whether a person who engages in such horrible actions is put to death. 

The Sages determined that before the age of 9, children are completely unaware & don't understand what relations are. Between the ages of 9 & 13, while they do understand, they are not considered guilty whether passive or active. 

The whole discussion is about their victimizer. 

So here, the Jewish that is codified is that if a man forces someone between the ages of 9 & 13 to engage with him, that person gets the death penalty (and his victim does not) and under the age of 9, he does not get the death penalty but rather he gets lashes in public. 

The fact that he gets lashes for it instead of the death penalty doesn't mean that it's less than a crime. It's because it's considered something other than having relations, because a child that age is unable to understand what is happening and as such it's a different crime. 

For the record, Halacha also permits you to straight up kill this victmizer if you catch him in the act and it's necessary to stop, so it's not like he's being protected or we don't believe his crime is not something heinous. 

7) Sanhedrin 58b

Fake translation

The opinion of Rabbi Chanina is that if a non-Jew strikes a Jew, he is worthy of receiving the death penalty, as we saw when an Egyptian struck a Jew and Moshe killed him. 

Jewish law, however, says that a non-Jew is not executed for this. 

This is why so many of these are infuriating. This is one opinion talking about how someone "ought to" get something for doing something, but somehow it becomes transformed as "This is what Judaism believes." 

8) Sanhedrin 57a

Fake translation, plus out of context. 

Here, there is a whole discussion about the 7 Laws of Noach and whether a non-Jew who transgresses them is liable to the death penalty or not. 

Here  the Talmud states that laws against murder are stronger for non-Jews. 

As is codified in Halacha, a non-Jew who kills a fetus for example is going to be put to death, while it might not be the case for a Jew depending on the case. Same if he killed someone who was dying, or put them in a situation where they died indirectly because of him. 

So, if a non-Jew hired a hitman, locked someone and left them to starve to death or pushed them in front of a lion, they will be put to death while a Jew might not be in this situation.

That doesn't mean that a Jew is allowed to do such a thing; the Jew will in fact be punished. 

The only distinction here is that "7 mitsvot you can't violate, you can do whatever you want but otherwise you deserve the death penalty if you violate them."

Think of it like Adam in the Garden being told he has one thing to do, and one thing only. Breaking it is much worse. 

Since for Jews there are 613, there are more punishments than just the death penalty/nothing, which means that in certain cases, a Jew might be punished with lashes or spend the rest of his life in prison versus being put to death. Doesn't mean that non-Jewish lives don't matter. 

9) Tosfot  Yevamot 84b

Fake quote. 

I mean, I went through the Tosafot on that page twice and there's absolutely nothing even close. 

It's also confusing, because why with a dog specifically? That has no meaning to us, dogs aren't seen as particularly bad in Judaism. 

10) Bava Metzia 24a

Out of context. 

This is the closest one to being accurate, and yet at the same time wildly out of context. We start by discussing a case where a man saves a lost object from a wild animal, at sea, the flooding of a river, or finds it in a public place. 

There's a debate: did the owner despair of finding the object and, as a result, it is considered ownerless so the person who saved it is permitted to keep it, or does it still belong to his original owner who still hopes to retrieve it eventually. 

"Is the item owned or ownerless?" is the basic gist, and the answer is that if you find it in a place where it's a majority of non-Jewish inhabitants, it is considered ownerless (even if it belonged to a Jew in the first place) because it is not the way of people to get them back 

So it has nothing to do whether the owner of the object isn't Jewish (so you can keep it) but if he was Jewish you'd give it back. 

It has to do with whether the majority there are likely to give back such lost items or not, and it simply was not the case in those societies. 

11) Bava Kamma 113a

Fake quote, and out of context. 

This is a discussion that has to do with tax collectors who were ripping off people at the time and enriching themselves on the back of citizens by claiming taxes that didn't belong to them. Doesn't matter if Jewish or not. 

So there is a discussion about whether you are allowed to lie in order to protect yourself and your money from those thieves. 

The same way you'd be allowed to lie to "circumvent" a non-Jew about whether you were hiding a Jew in your attic during the Second World War. 

12) Avodah Zara 22a-22b

Mistranslation, and out of context. 

Basically, it says that you're not allowed to leave your animals alone in the inns of non-Jews at the time since you're putting a stumbling block in front of the blind as they commonly engaged in bestiality back then. 

I mean I don't think there's much to say about this, it's clear that in many places in the world this is just as common today as it was back then, and even in the more rural areas of the "developed" world it's still something that happens. 

The less said, the better. 

Conclusion:

This wraps up this ridiculous piece of propaganda. None of the quotes were 1) accurate, 2) complete and 3) in context. Some of them, straight up lies. 

Don't learn theology from memes, people. 

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1, Chapter 2: Take a Trip Down The Lane, Chapter 3,

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, Zombies, Zombie Death, mentions of family death

August ish, 2023. Time??? Location: outskirts of Navasota, Texas.

“Gaz, you almost got it fixed, yeah?” The voice calls out making Gaz jolt. Too lost in his world to realize that his Captain was peering over his shoulder. Gaz has been working on it since Soap managed to nab it back when they were passing College Station. Soap got a massive earful from Ghost and Price considering he almost become zombie fodder.

“Aye, sir, almost got it.” It’s been driving Gaz mad for the last couple of days. The man has nearly lost his patience on it more times than he can count and that’s saying something considering he has the patience of a mountain… sometimes. “Bugger just won’t—“

A muffled voice that slowly becomes clearer as the radio tunes into the signal. “Oh and you won’t believe what I did today,” Gaz and Price freezes as they hear a woman’s voice on the radio. They share eye contact as they listen in. Hoping that it’s not a hoax or a figment of their imagination. “Managed to nab a blanket for once. Sometimes Texas is warm and other times is— BZZZ”

“No, no, no,” Gaz says as he angles the radio to try and listen to her speak again. Price sighs and claps a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. A firm squeeze as he looks at his Sergeant. “It works, Gaz,” he says as he looks at Gaz frantically trying to get it back. “Gaz, hey,” Price says as he tries to get him to look at him. “Kyle!” He yells and Gaz’s shoulders slump.

“Gaz, you got it to work. We’ve had it for weeks now without a single peep but you got it to work. That’s all that matters.” Cupping the back of Gaz’s head with a light squeeze. “Go help Soap with a perimeter check. Let me see if I can take a crack at it, yeah?” He offers as he knows Gaz needs a break, giving him a tender kiss on the forehead. Gaz’s shoulders relax and he mutters some reluctance before he stands and leaves. Price takes his spot and he rolls his shoulders. The stress of it all weighing just a bit more now that he knows the radio works. It’s gonna plague Gaz for a while and Price needs his head on straight.

“Alright, let’s try it,” Price cracks his knuckles and works on it. Been almost a year since the world went to shit. Last year he was getting Soap and Ghost out of the military base in Las Almas and now he’s somewhere in Texas. They tried to convince Rudy and Ale to get on board with going with them to Fort Sam Houston. The Mexican Colonel was vehemently against leaving Las Almas even Rudy didn’t think it’d be a good idea. Took Soap speaking to them and then finally Ghost putting his two cents in to convince. “Safer in numbers,” He remembers Ghost grunting out only for Ale to argue that he and Rudy are needed with the Los Vaqueros. As he works on the radio, he thinks back on what eventually set them down the path they are in.

————————————————————

“I’m not leaving my men, not after what that cabrón did.” Spitting on the ground as the fire from the tank that Graves was in is still going. It’s been a couple days and there’s already been reports of this disease. At first Price didn’t want to believe it, hell, no one wanted to believe it. Man eating disease? Sounds like something out of a horror novel. “Colonel Vargas, the sooner we get to that Fort the sooner we can bring back whatever cure they have to your men.” Price steps forward, eye level with Vargas, as his arms cross over his chest. Beard crinkling as his lip twitches.

“We need all the help we can get and you and your Sergeant Major would expedite the process of that.” Vargas sighs, his hands on his hips as he turns to Rudy whose been silently listening. They speak fast in Spanish, both have different expressions as they talk it over to each other. Vargas mutter a curse, that one Price can understand, and Rudy then steps forward. “We are needed here. We can’t let Las Almas suffer, this is our home and we will stay. With or without a cure.” Rudy states and Vargas nods in agreement. Price sighs and a faint smile graces his face as Soap clasps a hand on Rudy’s shoulder with a “be safe, hermanos” in his Scottish accent.

Took a days time to gear up and pack the necessary essentials they’d need. The whole world has been put on a pause and no planes go in and out especially when news came around that the President of the United State’s plane had sick people get on board. Secret service is still trying to find the rest of the plane since it nose dived somewhere in Philadelphia. Price only knew about the Fort from Laswell when she gave him a call. She didn’t have much time to speak on the phone before it blacked out with the insistent beep of the call disconnecting. Didn’t matter how many times he tried to call back.

When she last called she sounded out of breath like she’d been running a marathon. Speaking fast with her words, “M’glad you’re safe, John. It’s been hell here.” Shots firing in the background as he can hear screams, “Place is a lil crowded for me right now but listen!” She pants as sends him the information to his phone with shaky hands. “Fort Sam Houston is researching and performing experiments for a cure. Get there and keep the scientist safe. Fuck!” She curses as she now sounds far away. Someone is shooting again. He calls her name urgently but the phone disconnects as he punches the wall with a yell.

That phone call was 2 days ago. Soap still tried to convince Ale and Rudy but they held firm to their decision. The most Colonel Vargas could do was gift them a military vehicle and a decent number of guns, supplies, and preserves. A month. Should just take a week to get up there anyways. Provide protection for the scientists. Once they’ve made a cure then they can head back and then everything will hopefully go back to normal. That should be enough time to get up to the base and back. If everything goes smoothly that is.

Even though Price wanted to believe it even back then he knew that it would take more than a miracle for this to actually work but… He trusted Laswell, trusted her judgment with these things. He just wishes he could hear her speak again. He knows she’s resourceful, she’s probably with her wife right now hunkered down somewhere safe… hopefully.

“Are we ready?” Gaz calls out as Ghost loads up the last bag. Vargas was overseeing the load out to make sure they had everything for their mission, he even triple checked for them. Few sightings of the sick people have been roaming the streets. Mexico City is going dark as they get ready to head out as they speak. The Mexican military is deploying every able-bodied soldier at the moment and yet it isn’t enough. Too many have gone radio silent. Vargas and some of the Los Vaqueros plan on scouting there to see what’s going on as soon as the 141 leave. “Let’s load up!” Vargas yells as he hands Price a couple CD’s for the music player. Vargas may or may not have had that installed when he was tinkering with the vehicle weeks ago…

“Figured you Brit’s—,” a quick Oi from Soap, “AND Scot,” an amused glint in his eyes as he winks, “would prefer if I left some CD’s, si? Gives Soap enough time to work on his Spanish.” A Cheshire grin on the man as he leans an elbow against the door.

“Fine by me, s’long as Ghost ain’t driving and Soap can fix up on his Spanish,” Gaz remarks and Ghost levels him with a glare. “Gonna tell me I’m wrong, Ghost? Soap told me how you drove getting out of Las Almas.”

“My bad, next time I’ll put my blinker on,” Ghost grunts out sarcastically as Soap clasps a hand on Ghost shoulder with a belch of a laugh. Bantering back and forth as Price and Gaz sit in the front. Gaz acting as the map since the wifi has been acting stranger and stranger. A wave goodbye from the Colonel and the Sergeant Major as they drive off. A month. That’s all they’ll need and it’ll go back to normal.

The days quickly turned into months. Barely crossing the border of Mexico into the US it started becoming one shit show after another. Far too many close calls that definitely made Price age more than he already is. The main roads were clogged with people trying to get in and out of of major cities. It was madness, the people were everywhere. Screams and yelling as people tried surviving. Rudy kept talking with the men from where he was in Las Almas. Their radio working pretty well considering the long distance. Rudy and Ale would talk and give regular updates day in and day out until it stopped. Soap tried everything to get the radio working, thinking that the wires were crossed or something but… to no avail. They couldn’t even turn back considering how far they were, all they could do is push forward.

Ghost and Soap went through a rough patch, arguments and spitting curses in left and right. Ghost saying that they shouldn’t go back because “choices have consequences” only for Soap to angrily disagree. It took Gaz stepping in to act as a buffer while Price had to put his foot down on the matter.

“We can’t go back. We gotta keep moving, Johnny.” A sad look on Price as he places a hand on the Scott’s shoulder. He’s knows Johnny will take the blame and guilt himself into thinking it’s his fault for not convincing Ale and Rudy better. Didn’t help that when they stayed at an apartment complex someone stole their vehicle when they got pass Laredo, Texas. At least they had the weapons and supplies that Ale gave them in the apartment they’re hunkering down in, small mercies.

Derailing most of the plan and making tensions so high that Ghost could’ve cut it with one of his knives. It got even worse when Gaz couldn’t contact his mother anymore, barely a month in as the group walked more on foot from place to place. Gaz shut off completely for a week, not even Soap could ease him out of it. Took Ghost sitting next to Gaz on a warm night in an abandoned gas station for Gaz to finally cry it out. Ghost, never being one for soft words, held Gaz close to him, not saying a word but just being a comforting embrace for Gaz to fall into.

When they finally got a car it went a little smoother, Price scouted it at a JoeVs. He won’t talk about how he knows how to hotwire a car much to everyone’s annoyance and amusement. Soap was able to get a few phone calls from his family until it just stopped coming altogether. Phone calls making a “We’re sorry, the person you have dialed is not able to come to the…” Soap could only hear it so many times before he threw his phone against the wall causing it to crack and break.

Soap leaned more on Gaz for help since he understands more about it. A silent comfort that they had each other to work through it. Ghost took on more of the load since he knew that Price couldn’t carry all the weight. Especially since their Sergeants were going through it emotionally. Ghost’s only family was the men in the car so he didn’t have much to worry or cry about. Price was an only kid and with parents already in the grave. They really only had each other to lean into, all of them did.

The team went through a list of names to call the sick during the quiet nights they had. It all came down to a vote for “Z-Fuckers” since it was funnier hearing Soap call’em that in his Scottish accent.

“Z-Fuckers!” Soap said it experimentally and Gaz has to cover his mouth as he nearly choked on some beans. Ghost having to aggressively pat his back as even he started laughing. Price tried to be stern about being quiet but even he gave into it when Soap kept saying it. A lil calm in their storm, for once the night feels normal.

“It’s like that Romero movie, m’serious Gaz.” Soap grins as they sit next to each other in an office building they’re hiding in. The other in different spots of the room as they chatter back and forth like it’s a normal 141 mission. The Z-fuckers, as Soap so lovingly calls them, are outside on the streets. Moaning and groaning as they search for something breathing and living to sink their nasty teeth into. As they were looking for a place to stay earlier, Ghost narrowly got bit when he pulled Price back from the exit only for Price to punch the shit out of the dead woman making her stumble. Gaz was quicker with stabbing her in the head and then the zombie went limp.

When they finally settled for the night Soap spoke up again to Gaz and then to the rest of the group. “It’s the brains. I dinnae think it’d be but it is.” Soap says outloud and Ghost agreed to it, “Aim for the head.” Become the motto of the group.

Took 5 months in total, a few near misses, a couple of shit shows after the other, and finally they’ve made it to Fort Sam Houston.

“Jesus Christ.” Gaz whistles out as he looks on the binoculars. “Sore sight that’s for damn sure.” Soap makes a grabby hand motion and Gaz obliges him. Blue eyes widening as he looks to Price.

“You’re out ya damn mind if ya think anyones livin.” It’s definitely not a pretty sight. Too many deads, blood smeared on the outside walls of the building. Body parts on the ground. “Pretty sure that’s guts on a car…” Like a horror show from the looks of it. Especially with the broken glass and some of the cars in the parking lot being overturned.

Arms crossed and jacket pulled tight as Price levels him with a look. “We’ve a mission, Sunshine. Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” Soap snorts and keeps looking through the binoculars. “Ghost, you see anything?” Turning to look up as Ghost is laying on a rundown car. His rifle in hand as he looks through the scope. His eyes flickering as he searches and looks for movement.

Price tilts his head expectantly, and finally Ghost speaks, “I see lot of z-fuckers roamin. There’s movement in the building, too fast for a Z so it’s possible but I can’t get a clear view.” The older man nods and rolls his shoulders.

“Alright, let’s gear up.” A circle movement of the arm as he’s as satisfied as he can be with that answer. Not like they have a choice anyways.

They, thankfully, still have their comms and good enough gear on hand. It’s not the best and Price would’ve definitely lectured all of them if they were on a mission, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Soap and I will take the first. You two will take second. Comm for assistance.” His voice naturally moving into the tone that’s been honed over the years as Captain. “Don’t get hurt and don’t get killed.” He pats on Gaz’s chest since he’s the closest. “Don’t become a meal either.” Simple enough as is. Get in, find the scientists, and get out. Pretty clear cut. What could go wrong?

“Price you’re gonna have to think of something! Gaz and I are about to get cornered!” Ghost yells into the comm as he quickly tries to find a room to try and hide him and Gaz in.

Ghost slams against the door and throws Gaz inside. Shutting it quickly as the screech of a dead alerts more to where they are. “Fuck,” Ghost curses as he grabs whatever is heavy enough and barricades the door. The wood of the door being slammed against by the mindless drone of the zombies. He pants hard as presses a hand on the back of his head. His fingers flexing against his mask. His mind working overtime to think of a way out for the both of them.

His eyes searching for an exit as he spots a closet and windows. “Can’t break it. Might be more out there..” muttering as he taps once and then twice on his comms but it’s no use. He slammed too hard against the door, it probably messed with his comms somehow. At least they’re on the first floor. Far too many zombies on second that they had to turn back. Tapping the back of his head with his fist as he thinks of a strategy.

He pauses as he hears anxious muttering. Turning his head a lil he notices his Sergeant gripping his head. He takes a step closer, worried when he finally hears what Gaz is saying,” We’re not gonna make it.” Gaz repeats it again and again.

“Gaz” he says softly, trying to get his attention.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He’s spiraling as he tries to breath. Tries to keep calm, he’s been trained for torture, trained to handle the extreme but this is different. It’s a hopeless feeling being trapped in a room with no way out. He lost his gun when he tripped down the stairs. Ghost probably only has a clip left. It’s hopeless.

“Garrick listen to m-“

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to John or Johnny.” His hands shake as he tries and tries to breath. To calm down but he can’t focus. His ankle hurts, it’s definitely sprained from when he fell down the stairs. He didn’t mean to fall but a crippled zombie reached its hand through the bars of the rail and grabbed him. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ghost so… scared when he called his name out as he killed the zombie when it crawled on him.

“Kyle!”

His name being yelled is what pulls Kyle out of his spiral. The shuffling of fabric is heard as Kyle breaths in and out. The throb of his ankle momentarily fading as he turns and looks at Ghost. His eyes widen as Ghost isn’t wearing his mask anymore. It’s clenched in his gloved hand as he comes to Kyle.

“You’re not gonna die. Its not gonna happen.” Ghost says it so sternly, so assuredly that Kyle stammers a response back.

“There’s too many outside the door. They’re clawing to get in, Gh-“

“Simon.”

“W-what?”

“Want you to call me, Simon.” The bigger man says as he steps closer. His gloved hand reaching out and cupping his face as Kyle looks dumbfounded and confused. His breath hitching as he stares into Gho- no Simon’s eyes. Lost in thought as he looks at every crease, every little scar that Simon has. Has he always had such pretty brown eyes? “You’re gonna hide in the closet and I’ll give’em something to chew on.” He murmurs softly.

Something to chew on? What does that mean? Wait… he can’t possibly be meaning what he thinks he’s meaning. That makes him tense as he shakes his head. “No, no-“

“Kyle,” he starts but he gets cut off fast.

“No! I’m not… I can’t just… no!” He steps back but Simons hand grips him a bit harder. Months ago he wouldn’t even think about yelling back to him but he doesn’t care. He’s not going to let Simon die. Not because of him. A battle of wills while the zombies growl outside the door.

“I love you.”

Kyles shoulders slack, his mouth parted slightly as his heart pounds from adrenaline and fear. Eyes glassing over as he says, “y-you what?”

“I know it’s taking me a while to say it. I’m sorry but I do. I love you” Simon looks down as he says it, like it’s a secret that wasn’t supposed to be said but also a yearning to be spoken about. “I’ve lost a lot. I’ve buried too many.” He laughs sadly, “Maybe Johnny was right that I’d need to be put in these types of situations to say it.”

“But Johnny, you love Johnny.”

“I do. Figured it out in Las Almas. Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel for you or… John.” Slowly pressing his forehead to Gaz. Ignoring the pounding hands of the dead on the door that could break at any minute if it wasn’t for the desks in front of it. Simon looks at Gaz like he’s the only thing here. The only important thing in this room right here and now. “The dead outside this door isn’t gonna stop me from protecting what’s mine.”

“We can both hide. We can…” he tries to offer, tries to think through the emotions bubbling up in his chest.

“Kyle, you’ve a brilliant mind. Best on par with John but you know as well as I that the dead won’t stop till they have something to sink their teeth into.”

“No, no you can’t just confess. You can’t just tell me you love me and then die!” He yells and something fierce is in Gaz’s eyes. “You don’t get to leave.” Hands reaching out and grips the collar of Simon’s shirt. The one that Johnny got for him when they were running through a Walmart. A determined look in his eyes and something even more as he glares at his Lieutenant, his Simon, his.

Planting his feet as he ignores the pain in his sprain. “You don’t get to die on me Simon Riley. Not now. Not ever.” Leaning up and kissing him as Simon’s eyes widen. Shaken up as he clearly wasn’t expecting Kyle to kiss him or even reciprocate it. Maybe he also needed to be put in this situation to realize it as well that he loves Simon too.

“Dead’s be damned,” he breathes out as he knocks his forehead to Simon’s. “Our guys will get us. You know they will, don’t try and die on me.” Nose brushing against each other. The cracking of the wooden door pulls them out of the moment. Simon stepping in front of Gaz fast as he widens his stance and grabs his gun. The barricade in front of the door won’t last long. Simon eyes the closet door and then behind him to Gaz.

“I have a clip left. I ca-“ a loud sound outside makes the building shake and he can think of only one person that would make such a loud noise. Just as he’s about to laugh about the odds of who it is. A buzzing noise on Gaz’s comm comes to life as Johnny is speaking hurriedly, like he’s running. Telling them that he and Price are making noise on the east side of the building and to head towards the exit.

“Come on, Kyle,” He places his mask in his pocket, moving the barricade from the door away. Quickly surveying the hallway before he moves and hauls Gaz’s arm over his shoulder. “Our guys got us after all, huh?” His other hand gripping his gun as he keeps a constant watch. Determined to not let anything harm the two of them.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Kyle grunts out when some of his weight is on his sprained ankle. Ghost noticing as he nearly lifts him off the floor as his hand grips at his waist. Shouldering the weight of Gaz as they get out.

“Maybe a lil,” he grins and Kyle finds that he likes the way Simon grins. All teeth in it as he helps him out. Price is already providing cover fire as soon as they both make it to the exit. Soap coming around and helping Gaz so they can get away faster. The building becomes a distant dot and blur of a memory months later, maybe even a laugh at the odds and luck that Gaz has.

————————————————————

Back to the present day as Price smiles softly while working on the radio. From that point on everyone’s been closer, nearly losing Gaz and Ghost was a wakeup call that they all desperately needed. They’ve had near misses but never like that. Never to the point where it felt like the end. Now no one goes anywhere without letting the group know and they have to have a buddy with them at all times. It’s typically; Price and Gaz. Ghost and Soap. Sometimes they’ll switch up but they’re always communicating. Hell, there communicating better than when they did when they were on mission.

Bzzzz… Crchhhh “-nally saw a deer again. That was nice. Last one I saw had bite marks on it. Really, really, hope it was a dog and not a dead fucker.” The mystery woman chuckles, and Price can’t believe his luck. He calls hurriedly to the other men to come over as the woman keeps speaking. “Would kill for a burger from Whataburger, you think they’ll have the ingredients there? Man o man-“

“The radios working?“ Ghost says, stunned that it’s actually working. The radio keeps going as the woman keeps talking unaware of her listeners. “Gaz and you finally got it to work. Guess I can stop railing on Soap for grabbing it.”

“Knew it’d work, ya just dinnae believe me, Si.” Elbowing the big man as Soap steps closer, “Sounds like pretty lil ‘o bird. Gonna speak back, Captain?” Soap inquired as Price holds his finger over the button to speak. For once Price feels… nervous. The first human voice in nearly a year and he’s unsure about it. The number of pros and cons already playing out in his head.

“It might scare her off.” He moves his finger away as they listen to her speak about something that sounds mundane but is everything to the men in the room. It feels normal. “Let’s wait it out a bit. See where this goes. Don’t speak on the radio unless necessary, got it?” Price orders and they all agree. As much as Price wants to speak to the lady… he also wants to protect his men and keep them safe. Who knows who she is or if she’s even alone? The risks outweighs the benefits of a potential alliance for now.

Listening to her on the radio has slowly become a part of their routine. Sometimes in the morning or afternoon she’ll speak. Talk about her day, what she had to eat, commenting on her place of choice for the night, etc. The men would huddle around the radio so they could hear her and her “Talkshows” as they’d call it. Some of them wonder what she’d look like, what she’d sound like in person, how old she was, Soap even placing a bet that she wore glasses while Gaz placed a bet that she didn’t. It became part of their routine to check the radio everyday for her voice until one day…. She went silent.

She didn’t say anything in the morning and then the afternoon rolled by and no response. “We need to reach out and talk to’er.” Gaz said almost insistently when the second day rolled around and still no voice from her. The feeling that she could be a dead becoming ever present on their minds. Price holds the radio in hand, a crease of his brows as he thinks it over.

“Lemme speak to’er, doubt she’ll be spooked if she hears a ‘funny’ accent, yeah? Might make’er talk a bit since I sound like Shrek.” Soap says and holds his hand out. Price takes a second before handing it to him. An encouraging nod from him as Soap breaths in and says, “This is Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Taskforce 141 operative. I’m trying to get in touch with the woman that regularly speaks on this line.” different murmurs from the men as they hope and beg that their lady is around to hear them.

Bzzzz… crchhhhh… He tries again, a worried feeling creeping up in his chest. His words more insistent. “This is Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacT-“

“H-Hello?” She says softly. A nervousness in her voice and the men all sigh in relief.

“You had us worried, Bonnie.” Soap says as he breaths out a low sigh. His hand unclenching since he had it balled from how nervous he was feeling.

“Us?”

Their eyes widen as they hear the fear in her voice. A curse from Ghost as Soap scrambles to speak, “Me and some of my group have been listening to your talks. We… We just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” The silence on the other radio is deafening and they all suck in a breath. Soap tries to coax some words out of her but to no avail.

She didn’t speak on the line anymore, but they held out hope. Johnny and Kyle started taking turns speaking on the line, talking about their day as the 141 sat around waiting for her to say something back. They were about to give up since a couple weeks go by with no response. And then finally, the static on the other side comes to life.

“… Hi,” the radio crinkles and buzzes with a soft noise, “I’m not going to give you my name or location but I..” the radio shorts out and the men wait on bated breath for her to speak again. “But I want to talk. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to speak to you.”

“We’re here, Sunshine,” Gaz says softly as he takes the radio, “This is Kyle, do you remember me? I’d’ve spoken more to you whenever, Johnny,” glaring lightheartedly at the Scot, “would stop hogging the radio.” He chuckles softly. “We’re glad that you’ve decided to speak again. We want to talk to you as well, if you’ll let us.”

“I want to talk but… don’t tell me your name anymore, please.”

“…Alright,” he murmurs softly, “we won’t say our names anymore.” The men in the room all look confused about her request but they don’t say anything else about it to keep her talking. “Call me whatever you’d like, Sunshine.”

———

TAGLIST TWWK: @wrathofcats

[yanderecrazysie]

Yandere Deku who falls for the UA traitor darling ~ bonus if you add how he reacts to the news!( Darling can be female or gn)

I tried to make this as different from the Shinso x traitor as possible! And I always do female reader, sorry if that disappoints anyone >3<

Title: How to Pretend

Pairings: Izuku x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, hints at future violence, no spoilers, Izuku honestly creeped me out in this

Summary: Izuku doesn’t want to believe the awful truth, not when it’s coming out of your mouth.

“When I look into your eyes I see

A façade, you are not trustworthy

You are my enemy, faking your empathy

I was right to be wary when you know

How to pretend”

- from “How To Pretend” by VocaCircus

“Tell me you’re not the traitor.”

Izuku’s eyes are blown wide and it’s clear from his tone that’s he’s not looking for the truth. He’s demanding you say it, not asking a question.

Yet, your eyes fill with tears as you’re consumed by the guilt that’s been filling you for nearly a year now. You break down, crying too hard to answer him. He has every right to hate you now that he’s somehow found out.

You’re going to jail, aren’t you? For how long? Doesn’t matter, you deserve it, after all.

Izuku should be furious, rightfully angry about all you’d done to betray him and your classmates. You want to tell him why you did such a thing but even the best of reasons no longer seem to hold any water. How could you be so cowardly?

“Don’t cry, (Y/n), it’s okay…” Warm fingers slide across your cheeks, disturbing the flowing tears and cupping you gently. You stare blurrily at Izuku, watching him come into focus.

It’s not a pretty picture.

He’s crying too, even harder than you. But other than his tears, there’s no sign that he believes you’re the traitor. An unnaturally wide grin is stretching his cheeks apart, teeth shining in the hallway light. His eyes are shining too, and his pupils are going from pinpricks to enveloping the green iris and back to little black dots. He’s trembling from head to toe, almost as if he’s holding back from doing something. You’re not sure what that “something” is, but you’re not sure you want to know.

You’re frozen, terrified by this sudden, unnerving sight, but Izuku strokes your cheek gently with his thumb and mouths something over and over. It takes you a minute to catch what it is he’s mouthing: “Not the traitor”.

This wasn’t how you pictured his response to be. You just pictured your friends looking horrified and betrayed as you’re hauled away into a cop car, not… not this. This was almost worse than what your nightmares had plagued you with.

“I’m sorry, Izu-”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Izuku’s voice is suddenly deathly cold, a stark contrast from the cooing he’d been doing before, “What do you have to be sorry about?”

He let out a small, harsh laugh that turned into a slight giggle at the end, “What would you ever have to be sorry about? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’d never do anything wrong. You’re perfect! Perfect!” He burst into hysterical giggles.

You felt sick. This was your fault. You’d broken him with what you’d done. You were a real horrible person, weren’t you?

“I’m sor-”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The way he said it sent chills down your spine. It was so forceful and harsh, like he was threatening you somehow.

You kept your mouth shut and instead searched for a way out of this situation. There’s the elevator on one end, but it’s far away and probably won’t close quickly. That’s if you could even make it there with a pro-hero-in-training like Deku on your heels. The door on the other end is closer, but Izuku stands between you and it, and you didn’t want to try to squeeze past a broken man in a narrow hallway.

Izuku had gone still, mumbling something to himself at top speed. You couldn’t catch his words since they were so quick that they ran together. He was staring, unseeing, at the ground. His hands retreated from your face, and one grasped his chin in deep thought.

You weren’t sure what to do. Should you run or would that be like resisting arrest somehow? You didn’t want to get in more trouble than you were already in.

But you also didn’t want to stay here, with Izuku.

“You aren’t the traitor,” Izuku said, his eyes lifting from their gaze on the floor to stare into your own startled ones, “Which means, someone lied.”

A chill shot down your spine and, suddenly, you felt afraid not only for yourself but for whoever had found you out.

“Let’s go back to my dorm room. You can lie down for a little bit while I take care of some things.” Izuku was smiling again, but this time it was… almost normal. Like it was just an average day and he was greeting you with that cute freckled grin that always made you melt a little.

“Um, why don’t I just go back to my own dorm room?” You suggested quietly.

You immediately regretted it because Izuku’s smile froze and his eyes glazed over once more. Softly, to the point it was almost hard to hear, he replied, “(Y/n). Follow me.”

Did you really have a choice? You nod, hesitant and reluctant.

The coldness melts from him like ice on a hot day. He’s all sunshine and smiles once more, grabbing your hand and tugging you along. But you can tell he’s hurrying and trying to stay quieter than normal. You have no doubt that he’s desperately hoping that everyone stays inside their rooms and doesn’t poke their head out to stop him. You’re desperately hoping the opposite.

When you get to the dorm room, you’re relieved that all he does is make you lie down and pats your head gently a few times. But, as he leaves, he says something that makes your blood run cold.

“I’ll go take care of those liars now, don’t worry. Just sleep well and I’ll be back in a little bit.”

You try to get up and protest but he just closes his eyes and smiles, grasping the door handle tightly and pulling it hard.

SLAM.

Left in complete and utter darkness.

Why couldn’t you just get what you deserved?

[floralembarrassment]

Hi!!!

Can you please write about jegulus promising to marry each other when they were young (kids), and they would see each other (+ Sirius) every summer, but one summer the blacks move away? Even 10 years later they still think of each other holding the little rings they promised each other with.

Thanks <3 love ur posts

Summer Lovin' (1/1) (jegulus)

It couldn't be him... could it? James eyes had clocked the soft black curls that plagued his dreams and childhood from across the hall. Then he turned, and James breath hitched. Regulus Black standing quietly, seemingly taking it all in. It was a busy conference hall, and people kept coming over to talk to James. He realized he had suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He didn't have space for anything but Regulus. He actually wasn't sure he was capable of breathing at all.

"Reg!" He called. Not noticing or caring that he nearly yelled in someone's face. And then when those stormy grey eyes--the eyes he desperately wanted to fall asleep to and wake up to and looking into ever moment he was awake--snapped up to meet his. James was moving before the recognition appeared on Regulus' face.

As James moved through the crowd his mind was filled with those summers of his childhood. The summers when he would come home and spend everyday playing with the neighbour kids: with Sirius his best friend. Sirius who was his other half. Sirius who knew everything about him without asking and vice versa. Sirius who he wished could go to his school with him instead of in France.

And of course with Regulus. Regulus the inexplicable light of his light. Regulus the person he looked for everywhere. Regulus who he would rip his own heart out from under his ribs just to prove to him that James was his. Would always be his. Still is his.

He is still moving across the hall, it felt like years to get to Regulus. He sees Regulus move a step toward him, watchful and curious eyes, mouth slightly parted. James' mind was suddenly transported back to one particular summer night:

They were in the back yard, Sirius was inside getting lemonade and had ended up chatting with Effie and Monty. It was nice when that happened because it let James be with Regulus alone. They stole off to sit in the middle of the field that separated their homes. Wild flowers and tall grass blowing gently in the warm breeze around them. The sun starting to set in the distance.

Regulus had pulled a few pieces of grass and was braiding them in intricate circles in his hands. James remembers thinking he was just fidgeting but then Regulus grabbed James' hand, giving it a small squeeze and placed what he now was realizing waa a small braided ring around his finger.

"Promise me," Regulus had whispered, locking eyes with James in that moment. "No matter what, you'll marry me one day," it was a wish and a dream and the only promise James ever desperately wanted to keep. An echo of the promise he made to Regulus at 10 that of course boys could marry other boys. A whisper of the promise James had made to Regulus at 7 that he would always be there to hold his hand if Regulus wanted it.

They were so young, too young really to know what it all meant. Too young to understand the strong pull, the force of the universe that brought them together. James knew Regulus like he knew himself. He knew, even at just 13, that Regulus was his forever. That nothing could keep them apart.

Regulus had kissed him for the first time, the only time, when James had promised yes.

James remembers going back to school and coming home for the holidays to find that the Black family had moved permanently. And James didn't know where too, so he couldn't send any letters.

James has that memory frozen in his mind when he collided with Regulus in the hall. When Regulus is shocked and surprised and holding his face in his hands trying to make sure James is real. It's like no time has passed but they are finally together at the right place and the right time. "Uhmm hi?" James says, "I think I was supposed to marry you but maybe could I... could I take you to dinner first?" And Regulus laughs lightly, hugging James for the first time in years. "Yes, Dinner first marriage second." Regulus says, quietly tapping on a clear locket containing the preserved braided rings from that fateful summer.

[meyerlansky]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @redbelles AND @inkpot-demigod 🖤💙🖤💙 took me eighteen years but i figured i ought to get it done before the emoji asks >_>

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

39!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

133,253

3. what fandoms do you write for?

right now it's just masters of the air, because i really only focus on one fandom at a time but i also don't really LEAVE fandoms so much as they go dormant for a bit. in the last year i've at least TOUCHED wips for boardwalk empire and the witcher, and once bachelor route drops i will probably go back to some of my pathologic 2 fics and maybe come up with new stuff. same with HotD s2, although i don't know how much new stuff will come out of that vs finishing up things in metamorphoses.

4. top five fics by kudos

keep safe broad shoulders, warm hands keds and tube socks vestis virum facit denuo

so mostly burakhovsky smut, except for keep safe which is outsider pov nearly-gen lambden (from the witcher and specifically witcher 3) fic, and i have NO idea how it's my most-kudosed fic; and keds and tube socks, which is a long-ass (for me) steddie fic that i WILL finish at some point i am so sorry to everyone who's subbed to that fic /o\

5. do you respond to comments?

I TRY MY BEST ;___; i really like talking to people about fic, mine and others', so every comment i've left unresponded-to haunts me, but sometimes i can't get over my own anxiety enough. the only time it's deliberate is if the only content in the comment is "you have to write more of this" or anything similar and phrased EXCLUSIVELY like a demand, because It's Rude and also i have no idea how to respond to that.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

explicitly angsty is probably with my ash-stained palms or broad shoulders, warm hands because neither ryuzo or daniil get what they want in those ones, though i think bswh!daniil would get what he wants eventually. ryuzo, maybe not >_> dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek) is also probably up there, but that's more interesting because it's not angsty on the page! and i WAS planning on leaving it as is, originally! that's why it has the canon compliant tag! but now i'm 8k deep in a canon-divergent sequel so idk if it counts anymore. genuinely i was planning on answering this with "i don't write a lot of unresolved angst" but. hm.

...wait, also hot blood, deep roots. which is the dark mirror nightmare counterpart of bswh and is... definitely worse. and i have something even worse in my wips okay i guess i write more angst than i thought

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably vestis virum facit, since the final section is implied to be far-enough post-plague that they're Gonna Be Okay. but like the angst question, i don't really think of too many of my fics as the And They Lived Happily Ever After, The End type so much as like... they're happy In That Moment and that's what matters

8. do you get hate on fics?

i got put on the patho fandom blacklist for associating with Freaks And Criminals, and then i wrote hot blood, deep roots to cement my spot on it, so if that counts that's the extent of it afaik. i do worry about catching flak for stuff down the line, but honestly haters tend to be cowards, sooo

9. do you write smut?

LOVE WRITING SMUT. LOVE IT WHEN MY GUYS NAIL EACH OTHER. IT'S MY FAVORITE. i had like a year-long stint before stranger things s4 where i only posted genfic and i was SO disappointed with myself, even though the stuff i posted was GOOD genfic

10. craziest crossover:

don't really do crossovers! but entertaining daemon au thoughts is how i know i'm in a fandom deep enough that it's gonna stick for a bit, even though i've only posted daemon au fic for bwe thus far

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

also not to my knowledge!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i'm not opposed to spitballing with people, and some of my best bwe work has come out of very long headcanon exchanges with @goatsandgangsters and @therestisdetail in particular, but i am not a consistent enough writer to saddle anyone else with my habits, so that's the closest i've gotten to cowriting anything.

14. all time favorite ship?

L A N S K I A N O. they are my forever boys. nothing will topple them. ever.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

NONE OF MY WIPS ARE ABANDONED THEY ARE ALL GOING TO GET DONE EVENTUALLY DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT

16. what are your writing strengths?

snappy dialogue and the internal character work involved in a tight third person pov, which is good since a tight third is the only way i like to write

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

speed. if i don't finish something inside of a week of starting it, it will drag out for an infinity and a half and i'll have to chip away at it and hate myself for being slow the whoooooooooole time. i also... i have no idea how to explain this, but i don't consider myself an especially creative person, so i have trouble if i don't have a jumping off point to start with? most of my fics have pretty solid touchpoints in the canon and tend to be one-shots, if not single-scene. coming up with new shit for my dudes to do can be a struggle. which, tbh, adds to the speed thing, especially for stuff that tilts off into canon-divergent territory

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

alright, listen, i might have an entire buryat dictionary database downloaded onto my hard drive to spice up patho fic, but i'm in agreement with previous answers on this one: it can get dicey to write in a language you don't know, and if your readers don't know it it will interrupt the flow in a way that's not usually what i'm looking to do in a fic. that said, most of my fandoms have at LEAST one non-english language involved, if not multiple, so i do end up doing a lot of research into those languages, and i'm absolutely not opposed to pulling out single-words or phrases after either a. checking with someone who speaks those languages, if it's a real one, or b. pulling them from their usage in the canon itself and/or sometimes extrapolating out a bit, like the high valyrian i peppered into chrysalis

19. first fandom you wrote in?

boardwalk empire my beloved 🖤🖤🖤 i played around with some stuff prior to that—i think i'd noodled with what would technically be alice in wonderland fic in high school, although i don't remember what happened in it—but nothing substantial enough to count as Actual Fic, and definitely not anything i have access to anymore

20. favorite fic you've written?

MAN. HOW TO CHOOSE. it's maybe a little bit of recency bias to say dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek), but i think it's a tie between that and junkyard dogs, and both for the same reason, which is that i am really proud of the character work they do with curt and eddie, respectively. i'm not SURPRISED jd is as low on the hits/kudos/etc scale as it is since it's genfic and billy is...... divisive........... but i really think i nailed eddie in it. with dctc(tc) it was fun to get to play with curt, who's... look, i'm just gonna say it, i think he gets mischaracterized in a lot of the other fandom stuff i've seen involving him, so it was fun to get how i read him down on the page. it's also interesting to not only develop curt internally but to look at the buckies from an outsider POV, because they are UNDENIABLY the love story at the center of MotA's narrative, but they're both IN IT so they can't SEE IT. i also don't usually do scene breaks? like most of my fics are single-scene but i dragged dctc(tc) out and shockingly it WORKED? so yeah idk i'm just really proud of it.

OKAY. WHOOF. TIME FOR TAGS. let's seeeeeeeeee i will tag @goatsandgangsters @hosseinis @chirpybirdy @sweaterkittensahoy @reiverreturns

@samuelroukin @stoportotouch @notgrungybitchin @adriennefrombrooklyn and anyone else who wants to, but no pressure as always!

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the rise of sira | sci-fi!rhett x oc

Summary: Sira, a planet in the Far Reaches of the known galaxy. With a plethora of natural resources, the planet has been fought over and ruled by warlords, pirate kings, galactic empires, star princes, and the Order of the Nine. Over the last millennia, the people of the planet have grown restless. Tired of their oppression and the occupation of their lands. A rebellion has risen up, fighting against the Order for over 200 years. But has the long and good fight been all for naught? (wc: 3962)

Requested: YES by @dancinginsepia

Warnings: made-up sci-fi lore, flashbacks, grumpy rhett abbott w/ a bionic arm, violence, angst, whump, gore, injury, cliffhanger

✎……MASTERLIST

✎……listen, i don't know what this is as much as you don't know what this is. it came out of nowhere, but the prompt just really inspired me and i cranked this out in like four hours. so here we are. please please PLEASE come into my askbox or my dms to talk about this one cause i am plagued by Thoughts and dare i say Thots of them. i hope you all like this as much as i do &lt;3

Rhett ripped off his helmet and shook out his hair, drops of sweat falling onto his shoulders as he surveyed the battlefield.

The fight was over, that much was certain. Golden grains of wheat and whey flattened to the ground — off in the distance, some of the crop still stood. Mangled bodies of mechs and alien guts covered the earth like a blanket. Whoever was left of their forces gathered  the wounded, beginning to shepherd them back to base. It had been a long fight, but a rewarding one. The Order’s battalion had been defeated at long last. It nearly brought a smile to Rhett’s scarred face. But he couldn’t celebrate. Not yet. Not when their fighters were still out on the field and the Order could very well command an airstrike at any minute. Bombing whoever was left into a million pieces before they could even regroup. Before news of their victory could even travel back to their people. 

He had seen it happen before. Joy and a moment’s peace ripped away so suddenly. Good people — friends — lost. 

But there was really only one person he cared about now. 

Rhett stepped into the medical hut with a huff, pulling back the heavy curtain and letting it fall behind him. He didn’t think he needed to be there, but his commander insisted. His arm wasn’t working right again. Twitching and spasming. Don’t want that happening out in the field, his commander had said, Should be some specialist in medical.

It was dimly lit inside the hut. Lamps turned down low and some incense burning to cover the smell of death and decay. It wasn’t really working. In the main room, there were ten beds lined up in a tight row along one wall. Injuries or illnessses nearly healed, ready to head out the door. A few medics milled amongst the beds, changing out cups of water and bringing food or fresh bandages. Further back, he could hear wailing and coughing and medics talking quietly but hurriedly with one another. Rhett gripped at his left arm, all metal and screws. The last time he was in a place like this was when he lost the real one. The flesh and blood. Replaced with something that still didn’t feel like his own — just so he could keep going. Like the good soldier he was. 

He could still feel the pain. All consuming, a fire and a flood. He could still see the hanging bits of flesh, the dripping, pouring, blood. The question about where his friend was on the tip of his tongue before he passed out from it all. He felt the metal fingers of his left hand twitch of their own volition.

“Captain Abbott,” a medic said as they approached, a ramshackle data tablet in their hand. “Do you need help?”

Rhett let go of himself and straightened his shoulders as he grumbled out, “Arm’s actin’ up.”

“Oh — of course, um — I-I’ll go get Tessa. She’s our new bionics specialist, just arrived last night,” the medic replied quickly. 

“Y’always talk when y’re nervous?” he asked quietly as he narrowed his eyes at them. 

The medic gulped then looked sharply down, cheeks darkening. “Just wait here.”

Rhett grunted as they turned on their heels and walked away. A soldier from one of the beds stiffled a laugh. Another whistled awkwardly. He knew his reputation around base. And he liked it that way. It kept people at a distance, arm’s length, close enough for him to trust with his life but far enough away that he didn’t mourn when they got blown to pieces.

He pushed a hand through his long hair and leaned back against the wall. How long was this going to take?

A minute later, one of the curtains at the far back of the hut was pulled open and a small woman stepped out. She was still shrugging on her coveralls overtop a skin tight undershirt, she didn’t bother zipping it up the rest of her chest as she picked up a spare data tablet from a table she passed and kept on walking. She looked frazzled. Light brown hair pulled back but messy, dark circles under her eyes. Her pink mouth downturned in a thoughtful frown as she messed with the tablet and walked. 

In another life, Rhett would have thought she was pretty. 

She came to a halt only a few steps in front of him, eyebrow quirking triumphantly when the data tablet finally showed her what she was looking for. Through the translucent screen, he could see it was his file. Then she looked up at him. It nearly shocked him how brilliant blue her eyes were, like so many oceans on Sira he had flown over on his way to recon missions and battles. Infinite and calm — but holding some danger he could never understand. 

But there was something else in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. A softness that he hadn’t seen since he was a boy. 

“Captain Abbott?” she questioned as she looked him directly in the face, unafraid.

He grunted. She grinned. It made the dark circles under her eyes seem less prominent.

“Come with me then,” she said, turning, and he pushed away from the wall to follow. “Still settin’ up my workstation — but she’s enough to check y’r arm out.” 

Rhett didn’t reply, and she didn’t say anything more. They ducked back under the curtained doorway she appeared out of. It led to what appeared to be a small break area. A table with playing cards and a set of shelves with mugs and a coffee maker, dried portion packs stacked up in rows. No one was in there now. She led them across the room to the door in the far back, with the swipe of her keycard the metal door slid open and she stepped inside. Rhett followed in after her.

There was natural light in this room. The high set window open, letting in the autumn breeze. A cot was shoved into one corner, blankets haphazardly tossed aside and pillows askew. Boxes were strewn about all over the floor. A large desk took up an entire wall, there were already mechanical parts, tools,  and blueprints laid out on it. 

“Learnin’ somethin’ about me, Captain?” she asked with a coy smile as she sat down on a rolling stool in front of the desk, setting down the tablet as she went. 

Rhett felt his cheeks heat up in the slightest at being caught. “You’re right. Still settin’ up y’r stuff.”

She cocked her head, messy bun flopping to one side as she narrowed her eyes at him and patted the stool across from her. “You from Obrana? Wabang?”

“Wabang…How’d you know?” he replied slowly as he lowered himself into the stool.

“S’the way you talk.” She gestured at her own mouth, picked up the tablet again and scooted herself closer. “I’m from there too.” 

Rhett felt his heart clench, his chest tighten. He didn’t think there was anyone left. Last time he heard, Wabang was raised to the ground. Nothing but ash and rubble and charred bones. Part of him itched to know more. But the other part of him just wanted to get this over with. Take a step or even several steps back. Most people on base didn’t even know what part of Sira he was from. People had asked, but he refused to answer, and they learned not to. 

Why had it been so easy for him to hand over that information to a complete stranger now?

“So, says here, that you got the arm three years ago. Shoulder socket down. Replacement after a battlefield explosion, that correct?” She looked up at him from the tablet. 

He nodded. Tried not to linger on the images of metal hiding in dirt and his friend’s surprised, accepting face. The hand pushed to his chest to get him further back. 

“Okay. What seems to be the problem?”

Rhett raised his left arm, looked towards it with disdain. “Hand won’t stop twitchin’.”

As if on cue, his digits flexed. She cocked her head curiously. 

“Did you have a twitch in that hand before?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

She shrugged. “The parts may be different, but the brain remembers n’can send electrical signals to the hand.”

“I’ve always had steady hands.”

“M’sure you have, Captain.”

There she went, pulling information from him so easily with a smile like they shared some secret. Rhett clenched his jaw and looked away from her.

She reached for his arm, but pulled back at the last second. “Mind if I take a look?” 

“Go for it,” he answered, staring down at his right hand, cinched in a fist. 

Getting up from her stool, she took another step closer to him, nearly between his spread legs. Rhett straightened his spine to create some distance between them. But it was no use, she didn’t seem to mind at all, as she gripped his left arm with both hands. One of them ghosted up the metal plating and cables along the outside, the built in sensors screaming at him at such a delicate and new touch. When she reached his shoulder, around at his back, she pressed the release and his arm popped out of the artificial socket it was housed in. The arm now firmly in her grasp, she stepped back from him and set it down gently on her workbench.

Rhett hated taking his arm off. It left him feeling like a piece was missing. Like he was incomplete. Unbalanced. He didn’t dare look over at his left side, eyes trained on her as she worked.

As she grabbed her goggles from one of the hooks on the wall and slid them over her eyes. A small tool already perched delicately in her small hand. She looked in her element. Confident and assured. Her movements were swift and precise as she used the electrified tool to test the delicate sensors, artificial muscles, tendons, and nerves. Starting at the elbow and working her way down. 

“So…” She glanced over at him from beneath her goggles, blue eyes nearly ten times larger under the magnifying lens. “How’d you end up here from Wabang? Don’meet many of us these days…”

His story was on the tip of his tongue. Ready to burst out of him after years and years of keeping it locked in a vault somewhere deep in the shadows of his chest. But he bit it back with a grimace. “That’s none of y’r business.” 

She laughed, quiet and fleeting, but it sounded beautiful. A reprieve. 

“Fair. I don’mind tellin’ you how I got here though. If y’r just gonna sit there while I do this.”

“Great.” Rhett popped his jaw to one side and tried not to roll his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t sound so excited, Captain. Someone’s gonna think y’r a real chatterbox,” she replied with a smirk. 

He scoffed, feeling a laugh bubbling away somewhere in his chest. “I could just leave.”

“Course you can. But you won’t.” 

“How d’you know that?”

She shrugged, moved on to the next piece of his arm. “‘Cause…Y’don’t want people t’see ya weak…No offense.” 

Rhett glanced over at his left side. Where he felt there should be something but there was currently nothing. His teeth grinded together as he stared down at her booted feet propped up on the footrest of her stool. Knowing that his silence was answer enough for her. She was right. One of her booted feet tapped against the metal for a second, and then — 

“M’sorry,” she sighed, lifting her goggles and turning to face him. He looked up into her face, and there was that softness again. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just…If you don’t want me to talk, I won’t. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone from home, s’all.”

After a moment of looking at him, she went back to her work. The consistent small electric buzz and the distant sounds of the clinic the only things filling the silence.

It had been three years since Rhett met someone else from Wabang. Everyone he knew was either killed in the war or when the Order burned the place to the ground. Everyone who was left was scattered to the far corners of Sira. And he knew there couldn’t be many of them. The village was small to begin with. Just a group of farms and not much else. He barely remembered his time there anymore. Part of him wondered if that was by some purposeful design on his part. Or the only gift his years of war had given him. 

He looked at the side of her face. He knew the other medic said her name, but he couldn’t remember what it was now. Thinking it held no real importance to him. She was hunched over the workbench, tongue poking out between her teeth as she worked. The goggles masked most of her profile, but he could still see the easy slope of her nose. The delicate curve of her chin. The light scar on the edge of her jaw. 

How did she get that? How did she…End up here? On this rebel base of all places? They were hidden all over Sira, in every corner and region of the planet. Yet she ended up at the same one as him. Someone else from the same village that had been gone for over a year. 

Rhett found he was opening his mouth before he could stop himself: “Talk.”

“What?” she looked over at him with those magnified eyes, brow clearly furrowed beneath the goggles. 

“T-Tell y’r story, I mean…” he trailed off quietly, adjusting in his seat. 

She grinned like she had some joke at the ready but chose to keep it to herself. For that Rhett was thankful. He knew his people skills were rusty, but Maker. 

“I grew up on a Falcora ranch. Family raised ‘em for ridin’ and workin’ all over, not just in Wabang. My family…My dad…Tried to do everything by the Order’s rules so we could keep our land and keep our lives, but — he just couldn’t take it anymore. They-They ordered our ranch to supply Falcoras for their battalions, to use against the rebellion. Either we complied or they’d take ‘em by force. 

“My dad refused, so one day one of the Order’s drop ships came. I’ll never forget it. Big metal box with that symbol on the side in red. Soldiers came out and my mom — my mom grabbed me and my sisters n’hid us under the dining room floor. Didn’t even know that hole was there ‘till I was in it.” She glanced over at him and smiled sadly. “Heard the banging. The blaster fire. The screaming. Felt like we were down there for hours. Just…Listening. When it was finally quiet we came out of hiding. All the Falcoras were gone. Barns burned. Mom and Dad…”

She trailed off, took a shaking breath and swallowed hard.

“I — I remember hearin’ about that,” Rhett spoke quietly and low, she turned to look at him sharply. “Abernathy…Right?”

“Yeah, that was us.” She turned back to her work, lips pressed into a thin line. “I was only ten…My oldest sister decided we should go to the Sapphire Sisterhood. At least until we were of age.” 

He stiffened. “Those Order supportering religious zealots?”

“I never said she was smart. And I was too young to understand any of it. So I went along. The Sisters were cruel and I left as soon as I could. Barely sixteen. Went to Neo City and joined the Academy. Learned all about bionics and medicine and…About the Order and the Rebellion. I got recruited three years ago, at the end of my studies. Been bouncing around bases ever since.” 

“Y’r sisters? What about them?” 

This seemed to give her pause, a kind of sadness taking over her that Rhett could nearly see. “Rachel stayed with the Sisterhood. Shiloh…I don’t know where she is.” 

“M’sorry.” 

She only hummed in reply and said nothing more. She was testing down at the wrist now. Poking at all the various cables and metal mesh that acted as tendons and muscle. But when she pressed her tool into the center of the wrist, the hand twitched.

“Oh! There we go!” she exclaimed as she did it again, all the fingers clenching and unclenching as the electricity was applied. She set down her tool and inspected the area further. “Looks like you need a new transverse carpal ligament cable. Your current one is pretty much shot to shit.” 

“How?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. “The thing’s supposed to be indestructible.” 

“Just normal wear and tear. You’ve had it for three years. Honestly surprised you haven’t needed maintenance before this.”

Getting up from her stool with a light groan, she opened up one of the many boxes scattered about and started digging through the contents. After a minute, she pulled out a bit of metal cable with a noise of success. 

“Knew I had one of these in here somewhere.” She sat back down with the new part and a few other tools. “Just gotta replace this, Captain, and you should be good to go.”

“Rhett.”

He didn’t even know he had said anything until he heard his own voice echo in his ears. It made his guts twist up in a knot, some heat prickle at his neck. He wanted to take it back. But he also wanted to hear her say it. Hear that voice of a stranger that also sounded so much like home say his name. His real name. Form those pretty pink lips around the words and hold onto it forever. The only person he’s ever allowed to call him that. 

“Rhett,” she repeated with a smile and it sounded like honey. “Suits you. I’m Tessa.” 

He spoke her name in a whisper to himself, determined to remember it this time. And he wasn’t even sure why. But he watched, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, as her cheeks became dusted with pink. He wanted to make her do that again. And again. And again.

Tessa finished the repair on his arm and popped it back into the socket. After a few tests to make sure everything was working properly, she led him back through the clinic to the front doorway. 

“If you have any more trouble, just let me know,” she said as she stepped through the thick curtain and out into the sun with him.

“I will.”

“See ya around, Rhett.”

Surveying the field one final time, Rhett put his lips together and whistled a tune. A simple four note thing, but one that carried on the wind easily across such an open place. It was a call. One that expected and anticipated a response. Rhett waited, breath held just in case that made him hear it better, for the responding whistle to come. The echo of that same four note tune.

But it didn’t come. 

Ice flooded his veins, froze his heart and let it sink into the pit of his gut as he scanned the battlefield yet again. He couldn’t see her either. Couldn’t pick her out amongst the other soldiers and medics who were quickly trying to gather those that they could. He swallowed down the panic as best he could as he shoved his helmet back onto his head. His viewfinder taking over his vision once more. 

“Search: Sergeant Tessa Abernathy.”

The viewfinder scanned the field for a second. Green lines going out in a grid, mapping the carnage and the trackers set into each rebel’s uniform before battle. 

Maker, she wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Location acquired,” the robotic voice spoke in his ear as a marker for her location popped up. 

In the middle of the field, no other survivors around. Rhett took in a shaky breath as he moved forward. He whistled again as he got closer. 

But still, there was no echo.

A few months after Tessa’s arrival on base and her subsequent fixing of Captain Rhett Abbott’s arm, people began to notice things.

How the new bionic engineer sat next to one of the rebellion’s most famous soldiers and highest ranking officers at every meal. 

How Captain Abbott seemed to need a repair after every mission since her arrival. 

How Tessa would sometimes be escorted to his quarters after the sun went down and curfew was in action. 

How at victory celebrations, as few and far between as they were, the two of them seemed to be glued to one another's side.

Rhett kept repeating the whistle as he walked closer to her marker. Desperately. Brokenly. By the time he broke out into a run it was nothing more than a faint noise on his lips. 

She wasn’t going to respond. 

It felt like a rope was tied around his neck. Tighening and tightening the closer to her he became. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs but knew they were carrying him to her location. 

He threw off his helmet when her marker was only a few feet in front of him. 

And he could see her. 

Wearing a medics’ poncho because they had lost too many field medics and she stupidly volunteered to go. Despite his telling her not to. Despite him telling her to just go against orders and stay behind. But she was so stubborn. Always had to be. 

A giant pain in his ass and the sunshine of his entire life. 

Her face was pale, cheeks ashen. Eyes closed. 

The sun can’t go out. It just can’t. 

Rhett dropped to his knees at her side, uncaring of the bits of mech that dug into his flesh and cut his skin. Ripping off his gloves and tossing them uncaringly aside, he took her into his arms. Propped her up in his lap. Her head lolled to one side and he adjusted it to look up at him with one big hand to her cheek. Her skin was still warm. 

“Tess? Sunshine, you hear me?” he questioned quietly, afraid if he spoke any louder it would be a scream.

His eyes roamed her form for injuries. He didn’t find any until he got to her legs. Bile rose in his throat but he couldn’t. Her entire right leg was gone, blown off at the top of her thigh. Her left leg was missing below the knee. Both nothing more than charred stumps, like the end of a stick used to stoke a fire — coated in a thick layer of ash. It must have been one of those new fire bombs that the Order had been using as of late. Not caring that their own soldiers were killed with their use. Now that he looked around, many other bodies and bits that remained were burned black. The fires long put out.

A darkness consumed him. Weighed him down. It felt as if he would never rise from this earth. That he would stay here, with Tessa, as he should be. Forever. With a shaking breath, all hope draining from him like a plug had been pulled, his other hand slipped down to search for her pulse.

He gasped sharply. He clung to her tighter. 

Her pulse was weak, but it was there.

Bending down, he pressed his lips to her forehead, hard. Like that would embue her with some power to hang on. Just a little bit longer. 

“I’ve got you, sunshine, just hold on,” he whispered as he lifted her from the ground and started towards the transport that would take them back to base.

The sun can’t go out. It just can’t.

just tagging a few people who may be interesting, if you don't wanna be tagged in the future, just let me know! @arrthurpendragon @nerdysuperchick @bobfloydsbabe @crescentwolf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @onebigfangirlworld @yanna-banana @blue-aconite @gigisimsonmars @laracrofted @a-reader-and-a-writer

[l1xvanter]

Blueberries // Lee Felix x Reader

genre: distopian au

sypnosis: A meteor struck down on your country, completely destroying all sense of what you had previously known to be normal. Because of the effects, you are now forced to collect a substance called Ortaux to continue surviving. You're struggling to stay alive, and you nearly die, but someone saves you right before you do.

word count: 4.4k

contains: gn reader, angst, a bit of fluff, no happy ending (sorry), strangers to lovers(?), felix loves baking, reader is scared of lightning, lmk if I missed anything!

note: This is my first time uploading a story, and I'm kinda excited haha. This isn't proofread, and is really just an extreme edit to a school assignment I turned in last year lol. It's 2am and my mind is blurry, so let me know if there are any mistakes!

Your body felt numb, all You could feel was the pounding in your head, your mind was in a frenzy, and your vision had become nothing but muddy blobs of color. On the bench of what used to be a busy bus stop, you sat alone, experiencing what you thought would be your last moments alive. It had been 3 weeks since you had taken any Ortaux, and while desperately trying to find anything, anyone, to get some from, you could feel your body becoming more and more unstable every morning when you awoke. You could barely keep your eyes open, and thinking about trying to hunt any animals, or crawl your way to a store, made you feel even more hopeless. ‘Maybe this isn’t all that bad’, You thought. You had lost your family when the meteor had hit, and since then you’ve just barely managed to survive this long by scavenging for random items and exchanging them for some Ortaux. Everyone in your country has been experiencing this, dealing with it in their own ways. With no help from anyone else, may you add– they were scared that whatever modification had been made to our bodies by the meteor would spread to them if they ever let you out. It's been like this for the past 5 months. It felt like an eternity, and it’s exhausting. You could feel your body completely giving up, and you swear your heart stopped for a second before you felt something poke into your neck. Suddenly, the pain in your head was fading away, the blurs that made up your vision were readjusting themselves back into defined shapes, and your mind was no longer plagued with panic, but confusion. ‘Huh? What just happened? You could’ve sworn–’

“You okay?” A deep voice came from behind you. You turned your head to catch a glimpse of the body accompanying it, and You were met with the sight of a boy-- a man, actually.  He looked around your age, maybe a bit older, his fair skin had been coated with smudges of dirt, his ashy blonde hair not in any better condition- it reached down to about his shoulders, and from what you could make out right now,  it looked like a grown out mullet. He was wearing some very worn out clothes, his jeans were ripped all over, clearly not because of a fashion preference, and his thick black sweater fit loosely around his figure. 

“Hello?” It took a second call from him for you to snap out of your little trance. You finally met his brown eyes, looking up at him with curiosity.

“Sorry, you just.. Scared me a bit.” You didn’t know how to respond to him. You were just dying about 30 seconds ago, your mind didn’t seem like it could really process anything at the moment. …Why weren't you dead? You looked around, when your eyes finally landed on a syringe in his gloved hand, drops of shining blue liquid still dripping from the tip. Then it hit you. 

“Did you just inject that into me?” When he nodded in response You started to panic a bit, but was mostly in shock. What had you done for this miracle to come to you? “Oh my god, thank you so much! What can You do to make it up to you?” You said in disbelief. 

He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling into little crescent shapes. “It's nothing, I have a lot at home, and I always bring some with me. Besides, you’re the one who always leaves the blueberries here, right? I’m the one who keeps coming back for them, they’re great for making muffins.” He explained, in a light tone “I came by to pick them up, but I found you here instead.” 

Your eyes grew even wider than before, if that was even possible. ‘Oh yeah… You were supposed to go out for berries today.’ Truth be told, the first time you had left them here was because you had accidentally picked some while you were out on your weekly berry- collecting trip. It was a bit darker than normal, so it was harder to tell them apart from the others you would normally get. You're allergic to blueberries, and cursed yourself in the morning when you saw that you had accidentally picked so many. You didn’t want them to go to waste, and you highly doubt anyone would trade anything for some measly blueberries, so you left them on a bench at a bus stop the next morning on the way to go look for some Ortaux plants, ‘maybe someone will want them’, You thought. When you passed by the bench again on the way back home, you stopped for a second when you saw that they weren’t there anymore. As a little experiment, you picked some more again the next time you were out, left them on the bench again, and waited until the evening to check if someone had taken them again. A slight smile grew on your face when you saw that they were, once again, gone, leaving the bench empty. Since then, it was routine for you to spend a little extra time each week picking blueberries for this mystery person who seemed to enjoy them. Now, the said mystery person was kneeling in front of you, and just saved you from dying. 

“Anyway, from the looks of it, You assume you’re out of Ortaux?” You could only nod your head hesitantly in response, “Well if you want, you could come to my place so I could lend you some.”

You were reluctant at first, who wouldn’t be? A guy you just met was not only inviting me over to his place, but was also offering me some Ortaux? Just him saving you was a miracle on its own, his offer seemed too good to be true. For god’s sake you don’t even– 

‘oh my god.’ 

Sheepishly, You muttered, “You don’t even know your name.”

All he did was let out a breathy laugh before responding, “It’s Felix. I don’t think I know yours either, do I?” 

“Hah.. my bad…” You replied to him shyly, telling him your name. He smiled at you, holding out his hand for you to shake, which You accepted.

 “Nice to meet you.” 

You nodded in response to him, and after thinking about his offer again, you concluded that the worst thing that could happen was that you die, and that didn’t seem like that much of an issue to me just a few moments ago, so you decided to go with him. 

The walk there was, admittedly, a little awkward. It consisted of mostly silence, but there was a bit of small talk thrown in there too. With your mind no longer in shambles, You were able to get a better look at him. And he was way prettier now that you could see him clearly. He had a sharp side profile, and from the side you could see, he had multiple piercings on his ear. A silver chain hung from his earlobe, his other piercings decorated by matching silver studs. Even in the dark, you noticed that he had faint freckles adorning his cheeks. 

‘Cute.’

The walk didn’t take long, it only took about 5 minutes to reach a small one-story house. When the two of you entered, a faint smell of Vanilla entered your nose. Although the cream colored walls and furniture were covered in a bit of rust and dirt, he sure did a decent job of keeping the place organized. There was warm light emitting from the fairy lights that had been hung up, the shelves in the kitchen were filled with jars with labels on them; mostly ingredients, you noticed. The wooden bookshelves in the small living room were filled with literature, You wondered if he’s actually read any of those. You were shocked at the quality of the place. There weren’t a lot of places that had working electricity, so he must’ve gotten really lucky finding a house like this. It seemed cozy-- comfortable. It was somewhere someone could actually consider to be a home in this area. 

“Here, let me get the Ortaux, it’s in my room, I’ll be back.” He disappeared from your sight, and into the hallway.

You examined the area a bit more, looking through a window and seeing what seemed to be someone’s former backyard- the white picket fencing was still somewhat intact, along with the remains of some sort of garden. That’s when you noticed it had gotten a lot darker outside in the short time that you had spent here. Summer had just passed, so you were still adjusting to the shorter days, and sun setting earlier. Your eyebrows scrunched together, now a bit nervous about having to walk home while anything outside was barely visible. 

“This should last you about another 2 months or so,” he informed, returning from his room.

You turned around to face him,“Thank you so much, this means a lot, really.” You said with a smile. 

He walked you to the door, and as he was about to open it for you, you could feel your stomach start to churn. Walking in the dark was never ideal. Just looking out into the dark yard in front of his house gave you an unsettling feeling. You always made sure to get home quickly before the sun left the sky, but that clearly wasn’t how it worked out today.

Apparently he had sensed your uneasiness, and turned to look at you, “You know, if you don’t want to walk in the dark you could stay here for the night. Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

You turned back to look at him, waving your arms in protest, “No way. You’ve already done a lot for me today, I don’t want to burden you too much.”

“It's fine, really. I wouldn’t be offering if it wasn’t,” he reassured. “The couch pulls out to be a bed, I’ll just go and get some spare blankets from the closet for you.” And before you could say any more, he was already walking into the hallway again. You sighed in defeat, making your way to the couch, moving the table in front of it before stretching it out into a bed. Not too long after, he came back with a blanket and a few pillows; even a cute little stuffed bunny.

Grabbing the items from him, You asked with a playful grin, “What’s its name?”

He chuckled lightly, a boyish smile on his face, “Bubbles.” 

You thought it was a little silly, but kind of endearing in a way. You set Bubbles down against a pillow before thanking him once again. 

“Take it as a thank you for all the blueberries these past few months,” He laughed, “Get some rest. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Felix.” You greeted him back, pulling the blanket over yourself as he left the room. It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning to the smell of something sweet, and the sound of someone in the kitchen. You sat up slowly, looking towards the source of the noise, just to see Felix at the stove cooking something- breakfast, maybe?

My thoughts were interrupted by his voice, “Good morning! I hope you like pancakes. If not, I guess you’ll just have to miss out on breakfast today.” He joked, turning back to look at me, the sun from outside illuminated his face as he flashed a small smile. He even had a cute flower apron over his pajamas. 

“Good thing I love pancakes then.” You said, returning the smile. You sat there for a while in disbelief while he had his back turned to you. You had been struggling to find food and to just, survive, these past few months, and here he was; cooking breakfast like it’s some normal Saturday morning, as if a meteor didn’t crash and change everything around 5 months ago. You got up and sat at the dining room table, and you started chatting a bit more. Just casual conversation, which eventually led to him asking you why you always left the blueberries instead of eating them. You quickly explained that you were allergic, and he gave a tiny pout at the information. 

“Guess I can’t make you any of my blueberry muffins then, huh?” He complained, scraping the warm pancake from the pan and onto your plate.

This guy really liked making sweets, didn’t he? “Guess not. A real shame.” You breathed out, frowning playfully while thanking him for the pancakes. 

Breakfast was mostly quiet, but unlike last night, there wasn’t a screaming sense of awkwardness, it was calmer now. The pancakes, by the way, were delicious; that’s how they tasted to you, at least. You can’t remember the last time you had eaten, let alone eaten something that was actually prepared and wasn’t some scrap you found in an old grocery store. Felix had chuckled lightly at you when he saw how quick you had finished the sweet meal he had cooked for you.

“I was going to ask how the pancakes were, but I feel like I don’t need to.” He teased, taking a bite off his fork. 

“Yeah, they were awful, actually.” You told him, matching his tone. He smiled at your response and continued to finish what was left on his plate.

  After you guys were done, the two of you washed the dishes together and put away all the ingredients he had used back into their places on the kitchen shelves. While you went to the living room to put the couch back to how it was, you couldn’t help but feel relaxed at how normal it all felt-- how domestic the whole situation was. You wished that everyday could be as calm as it was right now. 

Gathering all the Ortaux he had so graciously gifted you the night before, he gave you a bag to carry all of it in, and guided you to the door. 

“Thank you for everything again, if you ever need anything at all, I don’t stay too far from the bus stop. It's a small blue shed that's about a 2 minute walk away, don’t hesitate to drop by if you need anything,” You expressed your gratitude, glancing at him, “Or if you just want to come visit, that’s fine too.” 

“Good to know, You’ll keep that in mind.” He spoke with a toothy smile. You grinned at his bright expression, deciding then that you wanted to make him smile like that again someday.

With that, You stepped out the door, offering him one last wave before strolling your way over to your place with a fond smile on your lips. 

The next few months were…a bit different. You had gotten back into your normal routine, but this time instead of constantly being by yourself, you had Felix accompanying you. In the first few weeks after he had met you, he would come to visit a few times a week, and when he wasn’t visiting you, the two of you would sometimes run into each other at the bus stop. After a while, you had started to wonder if these were just coincidences anymore, it happened pretty often. On those days you would just take a break from everything to talk for a few minutes.. Or a few hours. 

Because of how put together Felix has been compared to you, you didn’t have to go out and scavenge nearly as much as you used to, giving yourself a lot more free time. Guess where all that free time went. You almost spent no time in your tiny shed that you had previously found solace in, but now found yourself spending your days-- and nights-- at Felix’s cozy house. Sleepovers were a regular thing, spending nights together on his bed talking about everything and nothing, which would normally end in the two of you falling asleep next to each other. You won’t ever forget the first time you woke up in his bed. 

Slowly opening your eyes, you felt a weight around you. You blinked the sleep away from your eyes, and when you finally came to your senses, you realized that Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, and his face was right in front of yours. Your breath got caught in your throat, but calmed down a bit when you fully processed that he was still asleep. You observed his features with a soft look; your eyes traveling all across his face. You scanned his long lashes, his soft lips that were slightly parted, releasing steady breaths, and the freckles scattered across his cheeks. Your eyes darted from one freckle to another, connecting them like stars. The sunlight leaking through the window behind him casted a warm glow on him, making his blonde hair glow. You smiled, thinking that you could get used to this view every morning. 

It wasn’t until after you were finally done staring at him that you noticed the slight twitch of his lips. You sighed, slightly embarrassed. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re awake.” He chuckled at you and finally opened his eyes, his lips curing up into a smile.

“You were staring at me, weren’t you?” He smiled, his voice slightly deeper than it normally was, since he had just woken up. 

You buried your face down under his chin, into his chest, “I wasn’t.” You denied. 

He brought a hand to the back of your head to run his fingers through your hair, laughing at your response. 

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

You learned a lot about him during the time that you had spent with him, and now your mind had a list of random things that you had remembered about him. 

Apparently the house he was currently living in was actually his, and he lived there with his parents and two sisters before everything happened. Like you, he had lost them, and now you were the only other person who he had any interaction with. He had gotten his cooking skills from his older sister and mother, and he even taught you how to bake some of those sweet treats he loves so much; turns out he has a whole book filled with his mother’s handwritten recipes. 

He actually had, in fact, read a lot of the books that sat on display in his living room, and he even lended you some of his favorites for you to read. You didn’t even like reading that much, but you still had ended up finishing a couple of them for whatever reason.

 He had a bunch more stuffed animals in his room, scattered across his shelves and bed. He had names for all of them, and could tell you exactly where he had gotten each one, whether it had been a gift from someone, won at an arcade, purchased at a store, all of it. He had dyed his hair blonde when he was younger, and hasn’t gone back since, which you laughed at. He did complain, however, since considering your current situation, he hasn’t been able to dye it anymore; his roots growing out, revealing a decent amount of his brown hair. 

“It looks awful.” He whined, his fingers reaching up to run along his scalp. 

“Nonsense. It looks a little silly, but I don’t think it’s awful.” You teased him, laughing. 

“You’re so mean to me!”

Felix had basically become part of your daily routine at this point. 

The weather had been really bad these past few weeks, which made a few things significantly more difficult— actually everything had been more difficult. Hunting and collecting  plants had been your guys' main source of Ortaux for the past 3 months or so, but the constant rain and heavy winds gave you quite a bit of the struggle. You were running low, and you hadn’t run into Felix for about 2 weeks, which had been really concerning you. Whenever you went to his house to check in on him, there was never an answer to your knocking. You told yourself that perhaps he was sleeping, or out collecting plants, anything. However, you knew something was wrong when the batch of blueberries you left for him the last time you visited was still outside his door the next time you found yourself back outside his house three days later.

That night, the rain was heavy and the thunder outside did nothing to calm your senses. Normally when the weather was this bad, you were at Felix’s house sleeping over, cuddled in his arms while he comforted you through the storm. It was dark and cold, and you were terrified out of your mind right now, your mind only taken up by  the ruckus outside and the feeling gnawing at you regarding Felix. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing, and told yourself that you would go back to his place in the morning when the storm had hopefully calmed down by then; but that got changed when suddenly a bolt of lightning struck dangerously close to your tiny shed. You jumped up from your lying position on the cheap futon, and smelt something burning not too long after. Your eyes darted around, trying to find the source, only to see the left side of the ceiling burning. Feeling your heart begin to race, you quickly grabbed everything you could carry as fast as you could, and you started running towards Felix’s place. Rain was clouding your vision, or maybe they were tears, you didn’t know, you didn’t care. Your breath kept getting caught in your throat, your legs feeling like they could give out at any moment, and it was starting to get hard to breathe- You don’t think you’ve ever run this quick before in your life. 

As you finally reached his porch, you started to bang on the door, no answer. You were cold, terrified, and him not answering his door did absolutely nothing to calm you down. With each knock he didn’t answer, You could feel your heart dropping deeper and deeper. ‘Is he asleep? No way, everything is way too loud for him to be asleep right now. Why isn’t he answering me? Is he okay?’ Your harsh breaths scratching your throat, and your hands trembling, you gave up on knocking, grabbed a spare bobby pin, and tried your best to pick the lock. The rain made it hard to control it in your shaking hands, but eventually- 

Click

Your hands fumbled as you roughly reached to turn the doorknob and opened the door to his house, your presence being met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Slamming the door behind you, you looked around in a panic, running around the house trying to find anything of him. The dishes in the sink were dirty, a mess had been scattered around his living room, clearly having not been cleaned in a while. You checked every single room, closet, bathroom, the backyard, but you were left empty handed. 

Your sore feet brought you back to his room, and you practically collapsed on his bed, your legs giving out from exhaustion. You were so tired. The area used to bring you so much warmth and comfort, but right now it brought you nothing of the sort. You felt...hollow, You didn’t know what to do. Tears pricked in your eyes, and it only took about a second for you to completely break down into a sob. Your breathing uneven and tears clouding your vision as your shivering form laid on his cold bed. You didn’t know what exactly it was that you were crying about. Was it because Felix wasn’t here, leaving you with absolutely nothing? Not even a single note, a single sign to where he was, if he was okay or not. That you were worried about him? As far as you knew, he could be dead right now. You pushed that thought out of your mind before it ate you up any more. 

After what felt like hours of just crying, you made yourself get up and find some dry clothes. You definitely  needed rest, and if you laid here any longer you were sure you were about to pass out from exhaustion on his bed, still in your drenched clothing. You went through his closet, your tired eyes scanning through his clothes. Your hands found a random hoodie and some sweatpants, and changed into them with slow movements. They still smelled like him.

 You grabbed Bubbles close to you as you laid in his bed, trying your best to fall asleep. My mind was clouded by your thoughts, and you finally realized something you had noticed while searching for him. All the Ortaux in the house was nowhere to be found when you checked earlier. ‘Did he take everything and leave to live somewhere else? Everything else of his was still here… did he..?’ You didn’t even notice the tears starting to fall from your eyes again until You felt something wet drip on the hand that was holding Bubbles. You shook your head, and tried to get comfortable in the bed you had only ever shared with Felix. You fell asleep after endless tossing and turning, tears staining your face, and thunder crashing outside. 

Waking up the next morning, you had initially refused to believe that the previous night was real. You turned over to face the other side of the bed, where Felix should’ve been, but your heart ached when you found it to be empty. You don’t even remember anything you did that day, and the next few weeks felt like a complete blur to you. 

Felix never came back, you don’t know what happened to him, and you probably never will. You started living in his house after that night. Really, it’s not like you had anywhere else to go anyway, your shed was long gone by now. Besides, Felix’s house was way more spacious, it was filled with ingredients, food, entertainment, a place to cook food– it had everything you needed. Except for a certain freckled boy with blonde hair. You tried convincing yourself that all the practical things were the only reason you stayed there, but deep down you know there’s a part of you that finds comfort in living here, and that same part of you is the same one that’s aimlessly hoping that he’ll return.

[spiriteddreams]

love (to be yours)

for my "studio ghibli x valentine's day collab" <3 Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x Reader Warnings: fluff, angst if you really squint Word Count: ~1.8k

Yours (now I'm even losing my name — it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and is now: Yours)

one. “My love, you’re staring,” Kazuha���s voice pulls you from your daydreams. He sits across from you beneath a sakura tree, serene smile so calming and loving at the same time. Steam curls up from his tea, caressing his soft features as he stares at you knowingly. These are the moments you adore, when it is just you and Kazuha and the peaceful atmosphere of Inazuma to accompany your thoughts. It isn’t often that he gets to indulge in such moments, and with both of your busy schedules, finding time during the day for one another can prove to be tough. You are young and in love, the real world feeling eons away. Caught up in this moment, Kazuha realizes there are moments in his life that thinks will stick with him forever. Some are the loveliest of memories, while others are plagued with tragedy, and yet he holds them dear to his heart. 

“Who wouldn’t? You’re simply too pretty,” you hum, tilting your head in appreciation. The laugh that bubbles up from his chest is warm and inviting, filled with all the adoration in the world that he holds for you. He’s a charmer, swaying people with his words that it becomes impossible not to fall in love with him. But he swears up and down that his heart is forever in your hands, stitched along his sleeve and embroidered with your name. It’s a silly thought, you tell him, but touching all the same, for who else can make you swoon with such poetics.

“It seems as if you’re starting to speak in poetics as well.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Of course not,” Kazuha puts his cup down, shifting his body to move closer to you. “I find it rather endearing.” Hands trail from the blanket splayed out beneath you both to your hands. His fingertips dance on your skin, calloused but warm as he intertwines your fingers. You shift to a more comfortable position, allowing him to move even closer, teasingly trailing one finger up your arm, along your shoulder, and up to your chin so he can tilt your head to press a lingering kiss. 

“I love you.”

two.  He finds it rather terrifying, the way you waltzed in and fit like a puzzle piece, wrapping your hand around his and pulling him down the streets of Inazuma. As an innocent child, he stumbles down the street, panting and nearly tripping over the stones that jut out from the sidewalk. You are both children, blissfully ignorant of the world that changes around you. Instead, you only focus on the taste of sweet dango milk from street vendors and meeting up when your families decide to have dinner together.

Fast forward some years and you are adults. Kazuha’s world has been thrown upside down and he leaves with nothing more than fleeting words, kisses against knuckles and a letter from the heart. 

“Promise me you’ll find me again.”

He smiles wryly, “promises are just fragile words, my dear.”

“Promise me.”

He doesn’t seal your promise with words and he thinks that’s the first time he breaks your heart. 

Instead, when he flees with you far behind, he swears up and down that when he returns, you are the first he’ll seek out. And when the Resistance sings a song in his name, a battle cry he hears from across the ocean, Kazuha convinces Beidou to bring him and the rest of the crew back to his motherland. To fight for freedom, against eternity, is a risk he’s willing to take. He has not forgotten the promise he does.

Blood spills across grass and stone as banners parade across battlefields and yet he only has eyes for you. He thinks he must be crazy to think you look beautiful like this, weapon in hand, chin held up high and a taunting glare in your eyes. You hold the gaze of Kujou Sara across the battlefield and Kazuha can’t help but stop and stare. The rain batters down on the battlefield that is Nazuchi Beach and the Watatsumi Army is close to retreat, but upon signal, Sangonomiya Kokomi makes her grand entrance and soldiers pour in behind her. Kazuha only has eyes for you, sword forging a path to where your back is to him. The ringing of swords clashing meets his ears, grunts and shouts of pain echoing around him but the sound of your voice in his ears for the first time in what feels like forever, is like the sweetest melody of all.

“Welcome home.”

three.  Quiet days on the Alcor can be lonely. When there is little wind to catch in the sails and the crew has, for the most part, finished their tasks, the Alcor can become enveloped in silence. It’s not an awkward silence, nor is it uncomfortable, because there are moments when each of the crew members will step back and remember those left behind. There are families, friends, and loved ones waiting for them back home, and sometimes, as Beidou likes to say, it’s okay to be homesick.

But Kazuha doesn’t like to think he’s one to get homesick. He is a wanderer, a traveller, someone who can’t quite be tied down to one place. He would consider the Alcor to be his home, always drifting on the ocean and sailing from port to port, as if running from every past that the sailors might be running from. So why is it that today, his thoughts are pulled to you. For this round of journeys, you’ve decided to remain in Inazuma, working closely with the Yashiro Commission to rebuild a broken system. He had respected your decision, promising to return as soon as he could, but for the first time since finally clearing his name, journeying on the oceans without you feels odd.

“I wonder if you’re missing me as I am you.” Kazuha lies on the cool planks at the front of the ship.

He imagines you sitting cross-legged on the engawa, chin resting on your palm as you stare up at the fireworks that Yoimiya is likely setting off. He thinks you must be staring up at them, so lost in thought that if he were to steal a glance, he’d see the glassy reflection of the fireworks bursting in your eyes, as if you were entranced by the shimmering lights.

“Of course I do,” he imagines you saying, whispering the words to the wind to be carried to him aboard the ship so far away. “I’ll always miss you.” Those words are true, and Kazuha knows it because you’ve said it so many times. He doesn’t quite know what to make of them, can’t quite tell if they still hold the bitterness and anger that you had felt when he had left and did not send word of his travels or update you on his well-being. He knows that you have long forgiven him and have welcomed him back into your life with warm hugs and lingering touches, but not without a fair share of heated arguments and sharp scolding.

Kazuha laughs to himself, shaking himself from the memories that wash over him.

“I love you,” he whispers to the wind.

four.  Once you’ve met someone, you never really forget them. Kazuha’s pen lifts from the paper, ink forever engraving thoughts from the heart. If anyone were to ask him, Kazuha would say that he thinks you’re the loveliest being in the world. He swears up and down on his life that the moment you came into his life, you had placed him under a spell for only you to lift. So, he notes down each instance from the moment he falls until now, waiting for the day that his thoughts feel complete, and this journal of memories is enough to share.

He’s written countless poems about his travels and experiences, memorizing them by heart and rewriting them on papers that have begun to brown with age. There are poems on love, poems on grief, poems on travel, poems on you. He rereads each poem that he writes and tests the words on his tongue to see if they’re too bitter or too sweet. Some are ready to be shared with others, some still should be kept close to him, and others are meant for your eyes and ears only. He tries to contain his excitement when he pulls you aside for another poem, relishing in the way you lean forward slightly as if trying to hear him better. You savor the words, let them blanket you. He weaves declarations of love in carefully arranged lines, line breaks and stanzas serving as the building blocks to the hidden message he hopes you’ll be able to decipher. 

At the call of his name, he looks up from where he sits hunched over the table. You stand at the entrance to the room with a tray holding a teapot and two empty cups. Your appearance in the afternoons with freshly brewed tea has become something of a tradition. You abandon all words on the table, tucking them aside in neat piles and spend an hour or two with one another. Sometimes it is filled with chatter, other days with silence, but the more time you spend with Kazuha, the more and more you fall in love with him and his silly words. 

“My love, you’re staring.” Kazuha breaks your train of thought. You sit across from each other as the moon hangs in the sky, one pot of tea to share and a million declarations of love unsaid. His words jolt you to a past that’s full of innocent memories. It’s a memory shared between two lovers who had not yet experienced the extent of what it meant to hurt and be apart.

You indulge him, “who wouldn’t, you’re simply too pretty.” The grin that stretches across your face is all too knowing, a sign that he’s about to twist things around, likely to his advantage.

“It seems as if you’re speaking in poetics as well. Should I be concerned you will sweep me off my feet this time?”

“Is that so bad?” you continue to play along.

“Of course not,” he moves closer to you. “Just be prepared to catch me should I fall.” His heartbeat seems to pick up when you laugh. His pocket feels heavier, as if the small gold band is burning through his clothes and into his skin. For the first time, he finds himself at a loss for words. How does one properly convey all the right words, with all the right emotions to ask you to stay with him forever? He finds that none of his friends are rather helpful, all of them, except for maybe Thoma, teases him and pesters him with questions each time he sees them. He thinks that he can wait just a bit longer so he can gather his thoughts and plan everything again. So instead of a proposal or a flurry of poetic words, he says:

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3