#i read the recipe and it was like make sure all the water is gone 😤

[newtness532]

did you know that pumpkins are 90% water?

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[daniiiboo]

love letters- lh43

summary- luke leaves for his roadie, but he writes little notes around the house for you to find.

trigger warnings- reader is a little sad Luke left, but nothin elsee

dani's thoughts- ive been so busy, i havent had time to finish this fic, but I'm so happy with how it turned out!!

word count- 1.3k

Luke had left earlier this morning to make it on time to leave with his team. The road trip schedule was booked solid, and even though he promised to call and text as frequently as he could, the apartment nevertheless felt too very empty without him, even though he was gone for a couple hours.

You woke up to sunlight filtering through the curtains, the sharp sting of late winter air that sent shivers down your spine. Without Luke's warmth beside you, the bed felt cavernous. You rolled onto your back, letting out a breath, but then your eye was caught on something , a little wadded-up ball of paper on his pillow.

In his unmistakable handwriting, it read:

Good morning, love. I'm sure you're missing my obnoxious snoring about now. Have a good day and know that I'm thinking of you.

A smile tugged at your lips. It was so characteristic of Luke , sweet, thoughtful, and goofily charming. You clutched the note to your chest, his words seeping into your heart like a warm hug.

After dragging yourself out of bed, you went to make coffee. But when you opened the cupboard, another note fell down.

Don't forget, you make the best coffee in the world. I love you more than my morning cup. And that's saying something.

You smiled to yourself, imagining his sheepish grin as he wrote it. The apartment no longer felt so empty.

Throughout the day, the notes seemed like little explosions of Luke's presence. On the floor beneath the remote on the coffee table was another one:

I'm not there to pick the movie, but I have faith in you to make the right choice. Unless you pick a rom-com. Then we'll need to have words.

By lunchtime, you found a note on the fridge:

I know you're probably waiting here, suffering from takeout agony. But remember the way I bragged when you got that pasta recipe right? You can do this, baby.

You took his advice, smiling to yourself as you cooked. It wasn't perfect, but with Luke's belief in you, it was all the sweeter.

You'd spent the hour leading up to lunch attempting to prepare, but then you had to get things accomplished. Fold laundry, one of them being. And there, among the clothes, was another note shoved into Luke's hoodie pocket.

Miss me yet? Don't worry, this hoodie still smells like me. Bonus cuddle material. But remember, I'm the real deal.

You buried your face in the hoodie, taking a whiff of the top notes of his cologne on the fabric. It stung less.

Later, while cleaning the bathroom, you found a small sticky note taped to the mirror:

Look at that beautiful face. Even the toothpaste splatters can't detract from how beautiful you are. Smile for me, love.

You rolled your eyes, smiling, playfully blowing a kiss to yourself.

While grabbing a book from the bookshelf in the living room, yet another note floated to the floor.

I'm sure you've read this one a dozen times already, but did you know that I adore the way your eyes sparkle when you reach your favorite part? It's the sweetest thing.

That night, the sun fell below the horizon, and lights in the apartments shone golden. You curled up on the couch, at last giving in to a rom-com you knew Luke would roll his eyes over. But at the end credits, you missed his laughter, the teasing way he'd deride the plot.

And then, as you reached for the blanket, another note protruded.

Hi, if you're seeing one of those sappy movies when I'm not around, I hope you're recalling all the times I pretended that I didn't like them. Spoiler: I secretly love them if it's for the opportunity to watch them with you.

Your eyes watered with tears — not tears of sadness, but of the emotional warmth his words brought. Luke was not present in body, but his love was everywhere.

At bedtime, your phone buzzed with a FaceTime call. His face appeared on the screen, his smile wide even though he was obviously exhausted.

"Hey, love," he whispered.

"Hey," you replied, the warmth of his letters still coursing through you. "I've found all your letters. You're the sweetest, you know that?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a flush climbing to his cheeks.

"I just wanted you to know that I was still here."

"You were," you replied. "You always are."

Later in the evening, after your phone call had concluded, you got back into bed. As you snuggled into the blankets, one final note poked out from beneath his pillow.

I miss you so very much. Any empty hotel bed makes me homesick, just to be under your arms in our home again. But that will happen. I love you, forevermore and always. Sweet dreams.

You held the note to your chest. Luke's love reached every nook ,the messages he wrote, the memories filling your home, and the reassurance that all too soon, he'd be where he should be. At home. With you.

[formiito]

i crave domestic chuuya doing simple things like running errands with his s/o or chores together. just daily life with him :(((

breathe (in the air) ; chuuya nakahara

synopsis : late night cooking with chuuya. aka chuuya's way of saying "stay with me" without saying anything at all. read on ao3

author's note: AAHSGEHGEJSHEJ i've been ignoring requests for so long because of medical exams but it's alright now bc exams are done yippie </3 this is short bc im working on like two soukoku aus and my fyodor fic at the same time but BEAR WITH ME i hope you like it ajdhejgedjhe

There is the smell of something that might be burning that you're not quite sure of yet. However, Chuuya seems to be looking at the oven as if it owed him money, hands on the top of it like that would somehow fix the dish. Once he opened the oven, he grimaced at the stiff mass of … something on the tray. He picked the solid, black mass of burnt food up, hitting the floor with it in frustration. It didn't break. Or chip. He wonders what the fuck happened in that oven to make this weird indestructible thing out of cookie batter. How do you even fuck up that bad? How does anyone fuck up that bad??

Soft footsteps resound in the hallway that leads to the kitchen, and he doesn't need to look back to know who it is. The rhythm of your steps memorized, the manner in which your hands instinctively go to wrap around his neck feels familiar, and he breathes an exhausted, content sigh.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Right. What was he trying to do again? Baking boxed cookie mix. Because neither of them had the energy to cook anything for dinner and had passed out the moment they fell on the bed, clumsily half-undressing each other before sleep pulled them over the line that separated reality and dreams. Still, he didn't think they'd wake up too. When he got out of the bed at that small hour, he made sure to be as discreet as possible. After all, you looked even more exhausted than him, and he'd hate to disturb you when you were worn to the bone. But draped over his back like this, he liked that too. He figured he just likes most everything you do.

"What's that?" Your eyes drift to the weird black thing on the floor.

"Cookies."

"…Cookies?"

"I mean. It's supposed to be. What the fuck went wrong…" Chuuya groaned, clearly irritated by his recent failures.

He might've cut a few corners here and there when it came to the recipe, but even then, it should be impossible to make what looks like a condensed mass of human misery out of cookie dough premix. He should've really just gone out to get something from the convenience store, but the thought of going outside in this kind of all too warm and sticky weather made him want to just give up and go back to bed.

The sound of you humming in thought breaks his train of thought that was steadily derailing into annoyance. Once you pulled away—to which he just sighed, irrationally wanting to chase the touch—he watched as you got up, looking in the cabinet for something easy to make. "We could cook something together, you know." That idea had crossed his head, and in truth he just did not want to bother, but it meant spending more time with you. So despite being still mad at his recent mishap, he nodded, looking into the cupboard as well. He let you pick what you wanted. Rice, dashi, wasabi and a few other things he watched you take out, over your shoulder—maybe you were trying to make chazuke. Seems simple enough. Maybe he should've done that earlier, but to be fair, he would've just given up halfway and gone to sleep. Since you were the one doing it though, naturally he'd help.

While the water is boiling, he puts in a random disk in the CD player, looking at the cover. Pink Floyd, huh. While he's never really been one for this sort of music, or ever thought that he'd somehow associate the warm sounds of psychedelic rock with home, he's grown to like it too. Much as the rest of your things that are scattered round the house, seamlessly mixing into the space that is far too big for one person, he's fond of the little reminders. He doesn't outright say it, but this place feels less colder now that you've made it your home too. He doesn't need to say what the both of you know for a fact. As the sounds of Dark Side Of The Moon filter from the speakers of the old CD player, he walks back into the kitchen, where he picks off two bowls from the dish rack. Don't be afraid to care, huh…

Not that at the end of the day there was anything else. After the blood was spilled and the bodies had dropped, there was little to do other than welcome themselves home with a bottle of alcohol shared between two and letting intoxication blur the lines between nightmares and blissful sleep, or never make it to the bed, the touch of soft lips replacing the comfort of the mouth of the bottle. The tolerance keeps increasing; perhaps one day these distractions will no longer be enough to keep their mind off their troubles. It never was in the first place. The need to feel something more, more than the thrill of the fight or the reminder of regret—that was what they needed. But even if it didn't not entirely do the job, these routines were easy to fall into, were they not? One more glass, one more touch. Spend one more night wrapped in shared safety while being ready to lose each other the next day.

It was easy.

And right now, so is existing with you. Under the soft glow of the lamp, your face; the artificial sparkle in your eyes where he knows all light has fizzled out—his head rests on his folded arms, looking at you, and it's all strangely pretty. Maybe its because between the two of you and the adrenaline rush that seems to sustain the day, peace was a luxury. Once the scent of freshly steamed rice filled the kitchen, he stood up, picking out two bowls and filling them with rice. Your hands poured the tea onto the rice, carefully topping it with wasabi and furikake.

Funnily enough that he doesn't usually wake up at this hour just to cook with you, and yet doing so makes it feel like he's actually home with you. Not simply a temporary place to rest before throwing himself full throttle into whatever job was lined up for him next. For the likes of Chuuya, home has always been people, but it is for that reason that the feeling of home had always been temporary. As if the moment things began to feel stable, the moment he began to feel alright, it would be ruined again. Like a bandaid ripped off too early on a wound.

You patch the cuts up.

Just a little.

Just enough for it to hurt a little less.

So when the night ends with finished bowls tossed carelessly into the sink, bedsheets crumpled by tossing and turning, and his eyelids fall with the passing of the clock hands—

No dreams tonight.

Or nightmares.

Only a sleepy warmth.

It's strangely peaceful.

[plethaid]

Hello! I have been gone for a while but I am back with more headcannons! (This kind of ran away from me, so it's a bit of a monster of a post for me ;-;)

Anyway!

TW: none?? I think? Pls let me know if you think I should add any! Otherwise very, very fluffy I think.

Have the various cod men taking care of a burnt out S/O. Includes: König, Nikolai, Price, Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Graves

König is getting you some fresh air. No matter the weather, those windows are open. Taking you out on walks, or if that's too daunting he'll sit with you on the small balcony of his apartment, your favorite little treats on the little table beside your chairs. Will take you out to the nearest park if it's quiet, or deeper into the wilderness instead for his best attempt at a picnic. It may just be a rough wool blanket and a couple of sandwiches from a tiny (read: very questionable but he swears its good) bakery, but he's trying.

Nikolai is making sure you rest. He is well experienced in herding you back into your bed and making sure any obligations you have are taken care of. Will cuddle you all day long if you want, or if you want to get out of bed will let you sit by him while he works on a finicky peice of equipment. Loves taking you out to eat, fancy restaurants with you tucked under his arm, a bottle of your preferred drink already waiting at the table. Makes sure you two are tucked away in a quiet booth, where the lighting is dim and the only sounds to be heard are soft conversation and the string quartet.

Price is panicking on the inside. He wants to help, really, he just doesn't quite know how. Ends up giving you a lot of self help books, not knowing that you don't have the energy to read them, and just looking at them, unable to muster the energy just makes you feel even worse. When he notices, he feels terrible. Donates the books. Switches to holding you close in the evenings, reading a book you had been talking about reading for months out loud, keeping tucked into his chest. Will continue making you take a plethora of vitamins, no he does not care if you don't notice a difference. If you have a different medicine to take? Best believe he is making sure you take those too. Takes over all of the chores you hated, but still insists you do something to be productive during the day. Beams when he comes home and you tell him of the little project you finally got around to doing.

Soap is making sure you are fed, watered, and have proper enrichment. Kinda like a zoo animal, but in a good way. Keeps a balance of cooking new recipes to help encourage some life and excitement, and making your favorites when you need the comfort. Would absolutely bake with you, taking over whenever you wanted. Also a fiend for proper hydration, and you cannot tell me otherwise. Your waterbottle is full constantly, and if you don't drink at least three he is holding that bottle and giving you his best puppy dog eyes. Then there is the enrichment. Finds whatever hobby you have and brings home new things for it. New yarn, buys a new game, you name it. And if you simply don't have the energy to do what you love? He's right there with you, encouraging you to do just a little. Will not stop the praise when you make the tiniest bit of progress, because When it was the most progress you were capable of? It is the entire world to him, and he won't stop talking until you're proud of yourself too.

Gaz is making sure you take care of yourself. Runs a bath, making sure to use your favorite bath bomb and bubbles, adds epsom salt for achy muscles. Turns off the light and adds about a dozen led candles around to help you relax. Helps you wash your hair, scrubs every inch of you, rubbing lotion into your damp skin after. Runs through your entire skin and hair care routine, adds a few steps of his own if he thinks it would help. Reminds you to change your clothes if you forget. Does the laundry to make sure you always have something fresh to wear. Changes the beddding of your bed consistently and sprays the pillows with lavender scented spray. He makes sure you get some activity in, lets you pick and does it with you. Taking short walks with you, doing a little bit of yoga, or whatever you want. Similar to Jobnny with the water. But if you just can't get down a bottle, he offers alternatives. Flavored options or feeds you food with a high water content like melons. Gives you about a million little pecks, scatters them across your skin every second you get.

Ghost is suprisingly gentle. Treats you like a fragile bird at times. Keeps telling you frankly terrible jokes just to see you smile a little or smack him for it. He knows damn well how it feels when you feel so empty inside, the lack of any energy at all. Doesn't let you lie and say that everything is fine. He glares at you until you break and tell him how you really feel. Makes sure you at least move a little during the day, even if its just out of bed and onto the couch, or sat on the counter while he makes breakfast for you. Lets you rest for as long as you need. Hates being too pushy with you, or forcing you to do something you don't want to be doing. Only makes sure you're eating and drinking, offering a smoothie when making a meal and the clean up seems like too much for you. Will absolutely be a bastard to people and say know for you if you are the type to overwork yourself. Will also be a bit of a bastard to you when he knows damn well how burnt out you are and you keep scheduling more obligations for yourself.

Graves is the type to try and make your life as effortless as possible when you finally hit your breaking point. Every meal is prepped and waiting in the frige for you, with enough variety to make sure you don't get bored of it. Is definitely a bastard in making sure you eat three square meals a day. Oh, and that little thing thats been bothering you for weeks? Whether it be a squeaky hinge, or car maintenance, or a burnt out bulb you best believe it is fixed for you without a word. He is also a firm believer of the healing of the great outdoors, but he also knows how much effort going out for a true excursion can be. So he makes sure his house has a nice sunroom for you so you can be in the sun no matter the season. Buys you an excessive amount of comfy clothing. Makes a little daybed in his office so you can do your own thing and still spend time with him. Absolutely adores when you manage to pick a hobby of yours back up, and soothes you when you feel like you'll never have the energy to ever do anything you enjoy again.

[auggieblogs]

"Totally worth it" | CL16

Charles Leclerc x reader Author's note: Hey, hiiii, loves. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is inspired by that one episode of "How I Met Your Mother"... you'll figure out which one. Happy reading, everyone<3

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

The sound of footsteps echoed through the house, signalling Charles' return from the grocery store. You were curled up on the couch, feeling absolutely miserable with a cold and a slight fever. Your tissues were piled up beside you, and you had a blanket draped over your shivering form. The room felt cold despite the heater being on, and you couldn't help but sigh in discomfort.

Charles burst into the living room, carrying bags of your favourite snacks and a brown paper bag from the drug store. "I'm back, amor," he announced with a warm smile, placing the bags on the coffee table.

You smiled weakly in response, appreciating his effort to make you feel better. "Thank you, baby", you mumbled, your voice hoarse.

Charles came over, his brows furrowed with concern and felt your forehead. "You're still warm," he said softly. He then fetched a thermometer from the medicine cabinet and sat down beside you. "Open up for me, y/n." He gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and waited patiently. After a moment, he checked it and smiled, "Your fever has gone down a little bit."

You sighed in relief as he kissed your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. Charles turned on Gilmore Girls, and fluffed the pillows behind your head. He snuggled up beside you, gently kissing your knuckles.

As the day turned into evening, Charles decided it was time to make you some dinner. He headed to the kitchen, despite his terrible cooking skills, he was determined to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup. He had learned the recipe from his mother and hoped that he could manage it for your sake. You could hear him pottering about and occasionally muttering to himself.

Charles prepared the soup with love and care, making sure the broth was just right, the noodles were cooked to perfection, and the vegetables were tender. He even added a little extra seasoning, just the way you liked it.

He eventually returned with a steaming bowl of soup, a proud smile on his face. "Here you go, my love," he said, sitting beside you.

Now, I know I'm not the best cook," he admitted, "but this is the one dish my mum taught me to make. I hope it's not too terrible."

You couldn't help but laugh, a sound that turned into a coughing fit. Charles quickly handed you a glass of water before blowing on the soup to cool it down. He took a spoonful and carefully brought it to your lips. "Here, amor, let's see if it's edible."

You took a tentative sip, surprised by the taste. It was actually quite good. You nodded and smiled as Charles fed you spoonfuls, his eyes never leaving your face.

Once you had eaten, he gently wiped your mouth with a napkin and placed the empty bowl on the nightstand. Then, he tucked you back in bed, ensuring you were snug and comfortable.

He leaned in to kiss you goodnight, but you stopped him, concern in your eyes. "You don't want to kiss me, you'll get sick, Charlie."

He didn't say anything but held your face in his hands and kissed you sweetly. He'd risk a cold to take care of you.

Charles climbed into bed with you, a book in hand, and began to read aloud. His voice was soothing, and you slowly drifted off to sleep.

A few days later, it was his turn to succumb to the cold. You found him wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, looking miserable and adorable all at once. You prepared a warm bowl of soup and fed it to him, blowing on it just as he had done for you.

As you sat by his side, feeding him spoonfuls of soup, Charles couldn't help but smile through his stuffed nose.

"Totally worth it," he mumbled between bites, making you giggle.

[fawningflowered]

kate martin x girlfriend reader

girlfriend!kate who — returns home from practice with a bag of takeout, from a place you once mentioned wanting to try.

girlfriend!kate who — loves baking or making simple dinner recipes with you. quality time is one of the ways right to kate’s heart. while baking, kate finds standing behind you with her arms around your waist, as you mix the batter, to be comforting.

girlfriend!kate who — is heavy on never going to bed angry. this girl requires cuddles in order to fall asleep. and she definitely isn’t one to cuddle while upset. the two of you would sit down at the table, staring at eachother with wide eyes. it didn’t matter if it was resolved tonight, it just doesn’t sit right with kate if she’s upset.

girlfriend!kate who — at any given moment will kneel down to tie your shoelaces, or to remove your heels after you had gone with her to an event.

girlfriend!kate who —drives you everywhere. it’s as if you had your own personal chauffeur. and atm too, at any given moment she’d hand over her card. you were the mother of her future children, so why wouldn’t she?

girlfriend!kate who — runs a bath for you after work, even if you tell her that she doesn’t have to. she makes sure the water is a good temperature, and leaves a glass of your favorite wine on the counter in the bathroom.

girlfriend!kate who — wakes you up with kisses every morning, forehead, neck, shoulder practically all over. she stands behind you while you get ready, her hands wrapped around your waist, and head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. she 100% loves physical touch. she adores being near you, but loves it even more being able to touch you.

girlfriend!kate who — adores listening to you talk about the book you’re currently reading. she loves that you have hobbies and enjoys hearing how happy they make you. she admires how even after doing it for years, you would still come to every game, and as many practices as you were allowed.

girlfriend!kate who — doesn’t hesitate to lay her full body weight onto you, knowing you don’t mind. all the blonde could think about all day was being close to you, her favorite girl.

girlfriend!kate who — secretly enjoys watching the reality tv shows you watch. she definitely draws the line at true crime shows, no matter how much you like them. they give the poor girl nightmares.

girlfriend!kate who — has definitely cried in your arms over her sport before, you felt so helpless in that moment. you only wanted to remove the hurt from her body. you knew the injury was temporary, it could be fixed by taking it easy and icing it, but it didn’t feel that way to kate. so you’d stay up late with her as she told you all about it, the heartbreak in her voice almost making you cry.

divs are by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged , kind of short but i needed to put something out. taglist; @bveckers

[glazedsnail]

I finally typed the silly Shane x ♀Reader I had in my notebook for weeks.

It's an accidental voyeurism tale of what happens when you try to check in on newlyweds.

Warnings: NSFW/Accidental Voyeurism/Swearing

Small extract:

‘They’re still at it.’ ‘Abby, get down, we shouldn’t be watching.’ ‘You can stop watching, but I know you want me to narrate.’ She laughs, without being contradicted. Penny slowly joins her. ‘Aw, her wedding dress is on the floor.’ She says, as she sees your hastily discarded garment. Hopefully from where she is, she cannot see the tears, other snatched laces, and even teeth marks Shane left on your dress as you finally arrived in your now conjugal bed. 

Pretty tamed, and honestly? I wrote it back then especially for the lame joke at the end. A fun small read.

Ao3 version up here, and Tumblr version under the cut.

Picture of the incriminating notebook I write quick smuts in. You'd never guess.

‘The wedding was great, wasn’t it?’ Following an idea of Mayor Lewis, the entirety of Pelican Town is heading to the farm. Better than admitting that he forgot to give you their wedding gift, he pretends he had planned to give it as a group the next day. ‘Why did we have to be so early though.’ Most young adults are recovering from the reception. ‘She’s a farmer, they’ll be up.’ ‘Anyone saw them leave the reception last night?’ Asks Marnie, Jas trailing behind in her hand. ‘They just up and disappeared, did they not?’ Shrugs Gus, a bit saddened the newlyweds didn’t stay long enough to try his new deviled eggs recipe. ‘From their own wedding reception, how rude.’ ‘Right, Pierre’ Laughs Caroline ‘ Like you cared at all while slumped over the bar.’ ‘Open bar, may I add. Right?’ He shouts to the back of the cohort. ‘Ugh, don’t scream like that, dad.’ ‘My head…’ Moans Sam, holding Vincent with a limp arm. ‘Nobody forced you to drink that much.’ Snaps Jodi. ‘It’s a wedding, of course we’ll drink. Wasn’t expecting to have to wake up with the chickens the very next day.’ Groans Sebastian, head in his hood. ‘Speaking of, pleasantly surprised by Shane not having a single drink.’ ‘Well Marnie, you know he’s not had a drink for ages. Besides, he was too busy with the farmer…’ ‘Lewis!’ ‘Heh, perhaps this is why they left “early”...’ No other sounds are heard apart from the slow steps of everyone in the dirt path. ‘What do you mean, Elliott?’ ‘Oh, Penny, bless your heart.’ ‘You know what’s..expected after a wedding, right?’ ‘Alex, we have actual kids here, pipe down.’ Some throats are being audibly cleared. ‘Speaking of…Do you think it’s a sensible idea to…’ Too late, they’re at your farm. The sun shines on all the bountiful crops. Bleatings and mooings can be heard. ‘Oh the poor things, sound like they’re hungry.’ Pities Marnie. ‘That’s not possible, she’s nothing but diligent on all the feedings and tending!’ They walk to your house. The dry soil makes them realize you’ve not watered anything yet. Bizarre. They’re used to more assiduousness in your daily tasks. Your pet’s water bowl is even empty. The younger villagers start snickering. ‘What’s so funny?’ Snaps Lewis. ‘I mean…’ Abigail starts, in between laughs. A heavy “thump” is heard from the house. ‘Surely they can’t be fighting. Already?’ ‘If they’re fighting, Shane’s winning.’ ‘Vincent! Get down that crate this instant!’ Loudly whispers Jodi, snatching her son from the window from which she takes a peek. ‘Oh.’

She quickly retreats, signing to everyone else to do the same. ‘What?’ A collective ‘Ooh.’ erupts from the crowd as they eventually understand. They’re quickly gone from your property. However the younger ones have a better idea. ‘That’s uh, impressive.’ Gulps Maru, lending her window view to the next one. ‘Your mom built them a squeaky bed.’ Jokes Sam to Seb, joining him by the window. ‘The sound of the bed is what shocks you? Not Shane’s… stamina?’ He retaliates. ‘If that’s what beer and pizza gives you, why am I bothering with eggs and training?’ Laments Alex, looking away. 

‘They’re still at it.’ ‘Abby get down, we shouldn’t be watching.’ ‘You can stop watching, but I know you want me to narrate.’ She laughs, without being contradicted. Penny slowly joins her. ‘Aw, her wedding dress is on the floor.’ She says, as she sees your hastily discarded garment. Hopefully from where she is, she cannot see the tears, other snatched laces, and even teeth marks Shane left on your dress as you finally arrived in your now conjugal bed. The mere mention of you finally being his wife was enough to drive him crazy, and he was going to show you how great he would be at disrespecting you each time you’d walk the threshold of your bedroom. ‘Hey Emily, when she comes to you for mending don’t judge her too harshly.’ Abby is finding the whole ordeal very amusing, and cannot stop peeking at the window. ‘Do you think they just came home, got themselves naked and just went at it?? And…Are like that since last night?’ Emily says back. ‘That’s not physically possible.’ Haley scoffs, trying to look disinterested, on her toes from the porch. ‘I mean, with breaks. I see wrappers on the floor and’ ‘Oh, fuck Abby can you stop scanning the whole room?’ ‘Seb wants your focus on the bed.’ Sam laughs. ‘Hey, hands where I can see them!.’ ‘I’m grabbing a cigarette, you perv.’ ‘We’re all pervs.’ States Emily. ‘And I’m the oldest here. I should tell you all to stop this.’

But they don’t. They stop talking, but it only accentuates the sounds coming from the poorly sealed window. Shane is grunting as he makes you squeal, beg. Your voice only ever muffled by his wet kisses. The level of your moans growing as he groans ‘You love that huh? Come on, cum again for your husband.’. He feels your inside clenching at his voice, the sole allusion that Shane is your husband makes you quiver. Knowing that this is your husband’s cock hard at work against your plushy walls, and that it belongs to Shane, is more than efficient to make you see stars and leak all over him.

‘He’s…really making our farmer scream isn’t he.’ ‘They both sound like they’re having a good time.’ ‘We should stop watching. Aw they’re holding hands.’ ‘Penny, only you and Abs are watching right now.’ Seb points, smoke escaping from his smirk. ‘We should have stopped twenty minutes ago! As the oldest I take responsibility and’ Emily was about to grab Abigail and Penny but is stopped by the view. ‘Who knew Shane was this…potent.’ ‘Isn’t there something quite enticing?’ Laughs Abigail, welcoming Emily at the window. ‘No’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s so wrong!’ ‘I think it’s the tenderness and the…’ ‘Roughness?’ ‘Girls, can you PLEASE stop analyzing our friends’ love making?’  Sam, Seb, and Alex are down the porch, hands in their pockets, looking away. ‘Wait, wait.’ Abby says. ‘He’s…Oh Yobba he’s a healthy man! He’s falling on her chest, she’s shaking..’

She describes your arms wrapping around Shane, sweat falling on his back and forehead, resting on your bare chest as he gave you yet another orgasm. You’re both trying to find a steady breath, but cannot resist each other's lips. ‘I love you.’ You whisper to your husband, his head on your forehead, looking straight into your satisfied eyes. You feel his exhausted cock twitch inside of you, as if the words were enough to start him again. ‘I…love you’ Shane says back in between breaths. ‘I love you so much.’ he repeats, his sweaty hair finding the warm groove of your neck. You feel his hot breath on your chest, the fast thumping of his heart against your damp skin. His hand on your breast, his lips peppering kisses on the soft skin of your throat as if to apologize for the rough teeth marks he left all over, that you will carry for days. Showing off that you belong to him. 

‘Haley what the fuck are you doing??’ ‘The lighting is too good.’ She quickly whispers, snapping a picture of your intertwined bodies, falling into bliss. ‘Never going to look at Shane the same way now.’ Says Maru who joined the herd of men, clearing her throat. ‘Can’t believe he hid that from us, from me! His favorite coworker!’ They all laugh as they finally leave the window. ‘He belongs to the farmer now anyway.’ ‘Lucky lady…’ Whispers Penny ‘Hopefully that won’t affect the farm, right?’ 

They all look around your farm. One day of negligence won’t really be of any harm. But they need something to clean their mind. ‘We owe it to them.’ Ventures Alex. ‘Yeah, that’s the least we can do.’ Joins Seb. But they stay a long time standing without looking at each others. ‘So, do we start?’ ‘Give us a second, Penny.’ After a while the door swings open. ‘Aah!’ they scream. Shane, coffee in hand, an old pair of joggers on his worn out body, appears on the porch. ‘Good…Morning?’ He starts in a raspy voice, surprised to see such a crowd. They all get flustered, stammering one after the other. Emily takes a deep breath and starts. ‘How’s your coffee?’ She shouts clumsily. ‘I mean, enjoying yourself? I mean, enjoying your coffee? Outside? What a glorious day.’ Shane looks at all the faces one by one. ‘Erm’ he starts. ‘Can I help you?’ ‘We’re here to give you two your wedding gift.’ ‘But Mayor Lewis has it.’ ‘And he left.’ Shane’s confusion grows as their malaise expands. ‘Ok.’ He laughs, leaning on the door’s frame, pulling some of his wild sweaty hair falling away from his content face. ‘Thanks for coming to the wedding, actually.’ ‘You left before we could even say congrats, man.’ Says Sam, faking being hurt. ‘Surely had an itch to scratch.’ ‘Sebastian shut up.’ ‘Right.’ Shane chuckles. ‘Sorry ‘bout that. Needed to rest and all.’ He clears his throat, sipping on his coffee. They laugh awkwardly, in false understanding, knowing fully well what had happened. ‘We thought you might need some help around the farm, after last nigh…evening.’ Maru says, keeping them all on track. ‘Yes!’ Excitedly pipes Haley. ‘That’s why we’re here, cause we certainly didn’t hear or see anything and.’ Emily slaps the back of her head before whispering. ‘You’re staring at his crotch.’ ‘Is everything ok, Love. Oh.’ You appear at the door, a bathrobe tightly around your waist. You’re about to remove your hands from Shane but swiftly remembers that you’re married, and he’s yours. Despite his clear and usual abhorrence of public display of affection, he grabs you by the waist, bringing you to his warm embrace. After all, you’re his wife, and they are the intruders. It’d be rude not to show you how proud of his wife Shane truly is. ‘They’re here to…help around the farm? If I got it right?’ They quickly nod. ‘You must be exhausted.’ ‘You’ve been very busy.’ ‘Very very very busy.’ ‘Guys!’ Maru snaps, blushing heavily. ‘I’m not against it.’ You say, your hand secretly rubbing Shane’s back. ‘I wouldn’t mind just… resting with my husband.’ You add, grabbing his firm buttocks in your needy hand. ‘Thanks guys.’ Shane swiftly says, pushing you back in and closing the door, rebecoming the animal he was all night. They exhale, more or less proud of themselves for keeping a straight face. ‘So uh, where do we start?’ ‘Do you think they’re at it again?’ Abigail laughs. ‘Surely not!’ They pause, looking away or at their feet. ‘That’s not love at this point.’ Says Sebastian, lighting another cigarette. ‘That’s just lust.’ ‘No no, it’s definitely love.’ ‘Abby how the fuck are you back at the window?!’ ‘Oh yeah, she loves Shane’s assets alright.’ ‘Sam for Yoba’s sake don’t join her. Can’t you do like Maru and Penny? They’re already gone feeding the sheep.’ ‘Is that a euphemism?’ Haley laughs, walking towards the farm, not making Emily laugh one bit.

They watch you as you show Shane, your husband, how appreciative you are of all he’s done for your body all night. You’re kneeling in front of him sitting on the bed, his joggers barely down, his rough hand holding your hair, grabbing your skull, as you slowly stroke him, your tongue playing, teasing, tasting him. He groans, impatient, his hand shaking on the back of your head. And you take him whole.

Outside the window, they gasp. ‘Well.’ Abby starts, a grin on her face. ‘Shane must be pleased that his wife…’ ‘Abby…’ ‘Knows her way…’ ‘Abs I swear to Yoba and all that is dear.’ ‘Around a cock!’

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: General Warnings: none Relationships: Copia x female!Reader Additional Tags: established relationship, comfort, fluff, no beta WordCount: 775 Summary: Copia takes care of you while you're sick. Notes: Copia can be read as Cardinal, Papa, or Frater.

Ao3 || Masterlist

Copia knew exactly how you liked your tea: One tea bag (black tea, preferably Irish Breakfast tea), two spoonfuls of sugar (it has to be a little spoon and not a big spoon), and just a tiny splash of whole milk. He knows it by heart and has watched you make your cup of tea every morning since you moved in with him a year ago, but he was nervous as he stood in front of the stove waiting for the kettle of water to whistle. You were sick in bed with a nasty cold and had asked him to make a cup of tea.

“It’ll help my throat,” you croaked as you made sure to cocoon yourself in a pile of blankets. 

He, ever the caretaker, hurried to fulfill your request. Copia repeated the steps over and over. He had your favorite mug prepped with the tea bag, the jar of sugar, a little spoon, and the carton of whole milk that was specifically for your tea. As he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, he heard you let out a harsh cough from the bedroom. Seeing you so ill made his heart clench. If he could snap his fingers, he’d take your place because he just wanted to see you happy and healthy. He knew the tea would cheer you up though. That’s why he needed to get it just right for you.

The shrill whistle pierced the air, and he turned the stove burner off and poured the boiling water into the black mug that read: Resting Witch Face . Copia let the tea steep, debating whether to ask you if you’d rather have honey than sugar if it was for your throat, but he knew that if you wanted honey, you would have said so. He stuck to your recipe, trusting that you knew what you wanted. He put the two spoonfuls of sugar into the tea, stirred it, and then added the splash of milk. He frowned as the tea turned a lighter color than you usually drank. “Too much milk,” he muttered as he removed the tea bag. 

A minute later, he was returning to the bedroom with the mug in hand, as well as a bottle of cold medicine. “I have your tea, amore ,” he said, setting both the mug and medicine down on your nightstand. “Added too much milk, I think. Mi dispiace .”

“It’s okay,” you groaned as you sat up and reached for the mug. “It will still be delicious either way.” You held the mug in between your hands, allowing the steam to clear your sinuses, even just temporarily. You took a tentative sip of the hot beverage as Copia measured out some of the syrupy medicine. “Do I have to?” You whined, scrunching your face at the artificial cherry-flavored medicine.

“ Si, amore ,” he said, sounding apologetic. “I know you hate this shit, but it will help with your cough and help you get some sleep. You need the rest if you want to get better.”

You put the mug of tea down and reached for the metal water bottle filled with cold water that sat next to your box of tissues. “Let’s get this over with,” you sighed as you took the little cup of medicine. You pinched your nose and knocked it back before quickly chasing it with water. You could still taste the bitterness of the syrup and the sickening cherry flavor. The medicine made you gag a little, but you got it down. “There. All gone,” you said once you swallowed it all down. 

“Good girl,” he said, cupping your cheek and giving it a little pat before moving his hand to your forehead. “No fever at least. That’s good.” 

“Still feel like a truck ran me over,” you said as you snuggled back against your pillows. You reached for your tea again and took another sip. “How long is your meeting?”

“I shouldn’t be more than an hour, and then I’ll be right back here with you. I’ll make some soup for dinner and we can have cuddles while we watch a movie.”

“Hmmm can’t wait. But you better get going or else you’re going to be late for your meeting,” you replied. You went to go set your tea down but Copia took it from your hand and took a sip out of it. “Hey, you’re gonna get sick too now.”

“Then we can be sick together. It’ll be worth it if I can spend the whole day in bed with you,” he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leaving you to rest.

[ggghoulish]

WIP Whenever !!

Thank you to those who tagged me, it’s no longer Wednesday here but I still have a wip to share. I’ve shared a couple paragraphs from this one but this is a bigger chunk. Not actually sure where I’m taking this one really, but it keeps coming !

Moments Silence (working title, may change)

Abnur Tharn x The Vestige (Lumriel)

The waters of the small seaside cove flowed in and out soothingly, rays of sunlight poured in through the ceiling, alighting the pink fluttering leaves of the Auridon Heartwood trees growing inexplicably through the sand. It would have been a nice resting place had it not been for its occupants, Abnur thought with disdain as the attention of the conversation shifted away from himself and his loyalties.

Halfway through the conversation with Lyris Titanborn and Varen Aquilarios (or the Prophet, so he was calling himself now), the fledgling hero– a tall, thin, and tanned Altmer by the name of Lumriel– had stopped wringing his hands and gone frighteningly still. The young Altmer was of a shockingly timid countenance for his job description. Usually the new warriors were head strong or egotistical, unable to see past their own swords. Abnur never liked having dealings with young heroes, as attracted to trouble as they were, but admittedly their thirst for power, their inflated ego, and naivete was the perfect recipe for him to manipulate to his benefit. This one was proving to be a much more complex book to read.

Even despite his lack of desire for power, Tharn could see the strings of his heart, pulled back and forth by all the things he cared about. He was already showing signs of…weakness. Back in Coldharbour, after Abnur had re-emerged from Mannimarco’s (admittedly painful) banishment and they had worked together to take down the visage of him, the Vestige had gripped him by the shoulders with a terrified look in his eyes. It was almost like he cared whether or not Abnur had died, which was certainly a new development.

Now the hero stood, news of the Prophet’s true identity as Varen Aquilarios, bringer of all their looming troubles, finally setting in. The adrenaline from the fight lingered and seemed to leave his limbs with a tremble that he couldn’t shake out. The lines of his face grew tighter with every passing word from the Companions.

“You have my solemn promise, Vestige. When this is over, if you still judge me harshly, you can end my life. I will offer no resistance. But we must find Sai Sahan, everything depends on that.”

The Vestige looked at Varen with a withered expression, “I… am not going to do that. But you’re right. We have no choice.” He looked sparingly at Lyris, who took his gaze head on, and said nothing. “I am going to check your injuries and then… and just… I need to think.”

Varen nodded his head once, sagely and sat back down at the rickety makeshift desk underneath the Heartwood trees. Lumriel looked briefly over Lyris’s injuries, making sure nothing would be left to heal wrong or fester and gave her a small health potion. They spoke quietly for a moment, seeming to come to a reluctant understanding.

Even despite Tharn’s standoffish posture and attempts to conceal his discomfort, Lumriel turned to the battle mage, eyes wandering over his tired but still haughty frame. Though he had been through worse bouts before, the banishment spell from Mannimarco, ensuing fight, the spiritual drain that came from lingering too long in Coldharbour, and then that final blow from Lyris had left him wary. Still, he straightened his back under the scrutiny. The young high elf stepped forward, examining him. Warm, clammy fingers came up to whisper across his face, tracing the damages. Abnur flinched back, shying away from the touch he didn’t expect. The fingers grabbed his chin, gently guiding his face to the side to get a better look at a cut that Lyris’s bracer had carved into his face. Lumriel’s brow knit together as he focused.

“This shouldn’t need any magic but let me apply a salve. Auri-El forbid you get an infection. I don’t trust the air in Coldharbour, let alone the waters,” he said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. Maybe he was. He still looked shaky and off-kilter, Abnur noted.

Normally, Tharn would decline and take care of it himself but their new companion was such an intriguing character, he hadn’t yet pieced him together. He was obviously upset, but not one to lose his temper. The elf reached into his bag and pulled out a small wooden box, opening it to a translucent yellow gel, flecks of small green leaves throughout. Dipping his finger in, he brought a bit of it up to Abnur’s face, spreading it gently over the cut. It stung for only a moment, a cooling sensation soothing the angry skin.

Lumriel inspected him still, seeming stressed. “Maybe I should have cleaned it first, anything could have stuck from that gods forsaken place. It’s not bleeding anymore but I should have— Do you hurt anywhere else? Manni— that mer hit you with a lot of magicka so I should check for any burns, espe—“

Abnur grabbed Lumriel’s wrist, pulling it away from where he had rested it on his face, cutting off the nervous spill of words. “I’m alright, Vestige. I have survived much, much worse.” And it wasn’t a lie, even if he was aching bone deep across most of his body. Lumriel closed his eyes and grounded himself. Tharn noted how his hands trembled. “Are you alright?”

Lumriel looked away, pressing his lips together. “I-I— I’m sorry, I just need some time—“ he pulled his hands away from Tharn and turned, quickly wading through the cove (that he was now understanding was the Harborage— seriously, Varen couldn’t have chosen somewhere less wet?) and out of the entrance, where he could hear the telltale call of seagulls and push and pull of the ocean. Lyris watched him leave with a vaguely guilty look on her face and sighed, sitting down in the sand by their sad little campfire. She began methodically taking off her armor.

Varen shuffled a few things around on his desk idly and seemed to come to a decision in his head. He turned to Tharn, “You are, of course, welcome to stay with us here in the Harborage, should you need it. Though, it’s not the luxury you’re used to,” he said quietly, both of them ignoring Lyris going stiff.

“Thank you, Varen, but I believe I’ll have to decline,” the name fell off his lips clumsily, muscle memory still wanting to call him sire, from all those years ago. “I still have some funds and remaining connections that I should be able to find lodging in the city. We are in Auridon, aren’t we? It has been too long since I’ve last visited.”

Varen nodded once and he could see Lyris settle down again in his peripheral vision. “Yes and I believe the Vestige has a long term residence here as well, despite the inordinate amount of travel he’s been through. You might ask him about it.”

Tharn hummed. “I will. Though I don’t believe he’s in any mood to talk real estate right now,” he muttered. “I might just give him until morning lest he go catatonic.”

Narrowing his eyes in a chastising manner, Varen picked up a book and ran his hand along the pages, words glowing in a white-blue. Tharn assumed this was how he read now. “You don’t have to wait. In fact, I believe the Vestige— Lumriel, would benefit from your conversation right now.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Yes, company would be good for him right now.”

Well, looks like I don’t have a choice then. Tharn thought, wryly.

[chromatic-lamina]

2024 Writing Roundup

I think I deleted my round up on the AO3-looking template, so, at the nnntthhhh hour, using it in text form, tagged by @hyperions-light . Thank you very much! I'm taking this from AO3. I've had a few meta on tumblr, but not many. I've got five fics outstanding for 2024, that I guess we'll see in 2025. I also didn't do any secret santas this year (I told myself I was too busy). It was a bit strange! Anyway--

words posted: 28,656 on main, and 12,362 on anon

additional words written: not sure what this means. I didn't have too many meta, so I'd say about 500? Ooh, wait, unpublished zine pieces: about 8000.

fandoms: One Piece

highest kudos: It's been a quiet year (no Bioluminescent Hearts this year!) so Heart Pirates' Week at 47 kudos. 72 on anon, and cumulatively, Dark like the North Blue Sea (aka The Sea-Hill you Die On) drew in 336 kudos. valuta , which was published in late December 2023, 92 kudos.

highest hit one-shot: Decomposers, my fic for the LawZo zine, has 586 hits. Fic on anon, 5,500 hits (but it's not a one-shot!).

new things I tried: I did the Davy Back Fight <- fic here, written with 3 others, and the remix project <- fic here. I was happy to try both!

fic I spent the most time on: Probably Welding, which was written for the KidLaw zine, just because the timeline/schedule on preparation for that zine stretched across almost two years. Also, it had a higher word count, and I really wanted to do it right (as with most pieces!).

fic I spent the least time on: Probably Sunk Cost Fallacy, which is a Heart Pirates fic written for the Davy Back Fight. Mostly because it was written between four people, and we wanted to keep a fairly low word limit. The ficlets I wrote for the Heart Pirates' Week took longer, but not that long.

favourite thing I wrote: It's a draw between three: Welding (6,767 words), my KidLaw fic; Decomposers (3,006 words), my LawZo fic; and water fills the shape of the holder (2,125 words), Law reflection fic, remixing one of @purplehairedwonder's fic.

I also had fun with the Kaidou, Queen, King and Black Maria piece (Remedy for Errors) I wrote for @crowbarsolo in support of Palestine, and Widi's Waddle (about Penguin's penguin), written for the OP Friend-Shaped Zine.

favourite thing(s) I read: Aw, a ton of stuff. I always like @anarchycox's LawZoLaw (also a great SmoLaw, but I'm not sure if it was this year), and all of the stories for the LawZo and KidLaw zines. I especially liked @alpha-hydra's Liminal Space (KidLaw), beautiful story by @/gammacavy from 2022 (The Caravel who Dared the Tempest) about Going Merry, but I just read it this year, and anything @crowbarsolo wrote, but especially the Cavendish/Nico Robin piece The Special Guests. ALSO! must mention home (the gilded lily remix) by @gladdecease who wrote a beautiful story springboarding from an older story of mine (house / yorishiro). Also loved Only You And I Remain (KidLaw) by @betsib and Give it to me, show me what you're feeling (show me that you need me) (LawZo) by @/CursedHoneyB. Maybe just check out my bookmarks (watch out for the kink!). Have been reading the multi-chap Warsong about my favourite rarepair, MarcoLaw, but it might've just gone beyond my word count limit (it's about 100K beyond my limit. Haha). It is beautifully written, though.

Give @hyperions-light's The Road(trip) to Hell Is Paved with Questionable Decision Making a read! It's a lot of fun, but all of their work is good (paying back, but also true!) They write under @flyiing-giraffe

Two more!

I'm really enjoying the Going Merry: A Poor Substitute for Romance series by Springtime4Persephone. Focus is ZoSan, and I'm not a ZoSan shipper, but I enjoy it, and what I enjoy even more is the LawBin, and side servings of ZoLaw and LawSan. Very empathetic, fun and also a good serving of angst. Also, @/TerrifiedAristocat's Somebody Write Down the Recipe (LawSan, vampire and creatures of wonder in a modern day setting) is very good. Ongoing. Last two are E ratings.

Also, there are a dozen things I've read and loved and haven't mentioned here. I read a lot less this year though. All of the stuff for the Heart Pirates' Week was great, and I really enjoyed the beginning of ghosts speak in whispers and lies; can't know what's real 'til you're the one who's died (E rated, LawBin) by @nehswritesstuffs (Nehszriah) on AO3.

writing goals for 2025: None so far. Maybe return to my own work (rather than fanfic). BUT, who knows :D

new works: Again, nothing lined up at the moment. I do have a story in the gorgeous Pigment of Imagination (ophuezine). Pre-sales open now (closing soon). And four ficlets for the upcoming Fate and Fortune, one piece anthology digital zine. Stay-tuned for both! OH, also, I have a piece for the Baltigo Manifesto zine (about one piece revs). Due for publication in 2025.

tagging: only do it if you want to! (and I know there's not much time, and I know you might've already finished!). @purplehairedwonder , @ninhaoma-ya , @anarchycox , @kookoofufu (even if you don't play on tumblr anymore :D), @fowlfics @starlightbelle and anyone, anyone who'd like to play.

[happyely2]

Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: For everyone, this time there will be only a slight hint of the Smut, very very light.

Summary: 31 prompts for 31 days of October. Life on Moby Dick is always hectic and has become more so since Ace boarded this ship and became part of the family.

✒️Prompts taken from the contest (even if I don't participate) organized by the Italian Fanwriter page. I only translated the prompts into English, I hope you like it.✒️

🌊Writober PumpSea🌊 #day 7 - South

The southern route was so quiet that you had to stir it up a bit, and Ace had half an idea that made your mouth water when you felt his presence behind you, by now you had learned to know well.

Ace hugged you from behind and left a kiss on your neck that meant one thing.

You smiled for those sudden cuddles, but for once you were granted, in essence the situation was quiet on the ship, there was no enemy on the horizon and even your fellow travelers seemed to be calm and taken by their chores: Izo read the newspaper, Satch locked himself in the kitchen in order to experiment with a new recipe, while Marco was helping in the infirmary. The other commanders played cards, or chess or arm wrestling and White Beard participated in their challenges and enjoyed the tranquility of the day.

Going south meant peace and quiet. And for once, you all deserved it after the previous weeks when you didn’t have any breaks, repairs to do, aid allies, rescue friendly ships and fight the Marines.

It had been hectic weeks in which you had slept yes and no a total of ten hours and in which you and Ace were separated for too long, to optimize the time you were sent with Satch to solve problems, while Marco, Ace and Izo were sent somewhere else.

Not seeing you for so long created a tension between your two bodies that you absolutely had to eliminate.

"Shall we go to my cabin?" Ace whispered to you as he slowly dragged you to his room.

"I don’t think they’ll notice we’re gone." You responded by backing up with him, or rather you knew that White Beard would catch you, but the old man was very often your accomplice and covered for you most of the time you disappeared. You were his favorite couple and you had brought so much joy on the ship, a joy that had been lost in time, sometimes your father looked at you with a nostalgic look and a bitter smile and did not know why.

Sooner or later, you were gonna talk to him about what he thought when he looked at you.

So you disappeared without too much ceremony, but you couldn’t resist and you crawled into the library, making sure the door was locked and nobody was there.

You didn’t expect Ace’s urge to look for your lips and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

Ace grabbed your ass and put you on a shelf full of books, and he didn’t stop kissing you.

And you have reciprocated that kiss that you so desired in recent times.

You bit his lips and tasted their softness and she sucked greedily, making him moan with pleasure.

Ace started unbuttoning your shirt until a suspicious noise brought you back to reality.

"If it’s Satch, I’m gonna roast him this time." Ace said as he squeezed at you and waited for another sound, by now Satch had the radar to interrupt you at the least opportune moments - not that he would come looking for you on purpose, but he would always catch you and you couldn’t understand how it was possible.

Another blow stronger than the first left you puzzled.

Because the route was south and had to be quiet.

"Whatever it is, they’re all grown-ups who can get by without us." When you were aboard the Moby Dick, it wasn’t easy to cuddle, not with all the big brothers asking for your help on something, not with Ace running the second fleet, not with the thin walls dividing the cabins.

Both you and he agreed to try not to embarrass everyone, but even abstinence was felt after weeks of plenty and a quickie would not solve anything and there was not even how to wait to get off the ground, The next island for supplies was three weeks' sailing.

So Ace caught you kissing and opening the shirt you were wearing while you were fiddling with his belt. Her hair was on your head, you don’t know how, and both laughed and between caresses, stolen kisses and some bites here and there.

The third suspicious blow had not bothered you so much, they could also organize a fight upstairs but Ace did not care because he was engaged in a much more profitable and important battle.

There were priorities in her life and loving and making love to you were at the top of the list.

"Have you started wearing more bra without cups?" Ace noticed your new underwear, a soft lace bra in lilac color this time.

"I don’t really get the old ones anymore." You answered by licking Adam’s apple.

"Then I’ll have to buy you new ones." Ace replied between sighs. Oh my God, what you were seeing was beautiful. Ace’s muscles tensed to your touch, contracting and highlighting everything and his cock grinding against your groin made you daydream.

Besides, the bookstore was a new place you hadn’t done it yet.

A shock knocked you both out when you were about to continue. Ace locked you with his body to prevent you from falling to the ground, the books were still on the shelf you were sitting on.

"What are they doing?" Now you couldn’t take it anymore, there must be something that didn’t add up because the noise started to feel, and it was too close.

Then the library door was kicked in, and by the bang, you hooked up to Ace like a Koala.

"What are you doing here!" Satch was challenging another pirate in a sword fight to the death.

"What are you doing here!" You blurted out in less than half a second looking crooked at the man who was facing your older brother. You weren’t worried about Satch, nor was Ace, he would have beaten him in a few moves.

"Did we interrupt a quickie?" Satch was laughing under his mustache as he stood up to his opponent.

"Satch." Ace’s tone didn’t allow for replicas or even his gaze. The brown man winked at you and started fighting again, then threw the man out the window, "More are coming." He added, preparing for the incoming enemies: "Unfortunately they broke the door." He added by grinning and throwing himself back into the fray.

Further on you heard the shots of Izo’s guns and other enemies coming towards the library.

"Good God, you can’t even have a little privacy!" You blurted it out with your face in Ace’s chest.

"Come on, let’s go knock some enemies out and then no one will bother us anymore." Your boyfriend told you when he punched a man who was about to attack you.

"But I say, there is a code of manners." You said pouting while Ace walked away from the gun, you were still in his lap, and you didn’t want to get out. Ace squeezed you with his free arm while with the other he hit enemies that came towards you.

"What do you want me to tell you love, not everyone is a polite pirate." He told you by knocking out two more people and then using his Haki to knock them out ten more.

He wasn’t happy about being interrupted either, not after you both got into the mood.

Or they’d pay for it.

You came down from Ace when you climbed on the bridge and a sigh of exasperation came out seeing all the amount of enemies that were attacking you, many but small fish.

If only he was strong.

White Beard laughed at the show and if he did not intervene he meant that those who were attacking were really small fish, but maybe he wanted to enliven that quiet day.

"I could go to Dad and play burraco with him." You said as you walked across the main bridge ignoring the enemies present. Ace was behind you, "It won’t take long, I’ll catch up with you later, honey." He said, leaving your hat and throwing himself into the fray.

Ace wasn’t even using his devil fruit, just punches and kicks that would knock out a bison.

"Dad, who’s attacking us?"

"We ran into an enemy fleet treasure, but don’t worry soon calm will return." The old man answered you as you sat on his knee to see the fight better.

"Whoa, always fighting." You said pouting and making your father laugh.

"At least in your time the enemies were strong, these are sardines and fish read." You said laughing again. White Beard loved your frankness and candor.

"In my day we had more respect, more discipline and more determination." The man agreed by drinking his favorite sake.

"It offends me that you think this of my subordinates, they were recruited recently but at least appreciate the courage." An unknown voice had made you turn and the fight had been stopped abruptly. A man was floating in midair, instead of his legs there were two swords and a piece of rudder was embedded in his head.

Marco is perched on your father’s throne and gradually all the other commanders have arrived.

"I heard you were coming south and I took the liberty of a small welcoming committee." He said the man continuing to float and addressing directly to White Beard. You came down and approached Ace, there was something about that man you didn’t like at all.

"Shiki the golden lion." You whispered to your boyfriend, Ace took your hand and looked at the enemy, you could feel from his warmth that was tense, for sure his not Garp had talked to him about the man in front of you. In the past, his father Roger and his crew had faced him several times.

Shiki was an unpredictable man, he valued both Roger and White Beard but he had never existed to attack them when he had the opportunity, ruthless and cruel.

There was a rumour that he had escaped from Impel Down, but there had been no news of him for years. To find it before your eyes was something absurd.

Izo was close to you and Ace, the guns still in his hand and held tightly. None of the commanders had left their weapons and at that point you wondered what would happen.

The man was part of the older generation of pirates who had terrorized the seas before you and his fame, his thirst for power and his irascible character preceded him by pointing out how dangerous he was.

Ace stood before you when the gaze of the Golden Lion rested on you.

"So she’s the baby you found on this route." And the Golden Lion laughed.

White Beard had it in his eye, Ace had activated his flames, and you had to keep him from screwing up.

You knew you were found in a chest 18 years ago, and you never cared to find out why, but knowing that man knew you was something that upset you.

"Newborn not so much, now she is a young woman." He continued to speak your opponent by going down on the bridge and walking towards you.

"I don’t want to do anything to her." Shiki turned to Ace.

"Ace..." A warning from Dad, who partly reassured you and partly upset you. If Dad allowed him to get close to you, he meant one thing, one wrong step and Shiki the Golden Lion would lose his life.

Ace moved, even though he stood by you and didn’t back much.

"You remind me so much of an acquaintance of ours many years ago." He said the man take a lock of your light hair and drop it right after.

"Do it again and you’ll burn this time." Ace’s tone was filled with anger, and a shiver descended down your spine. All the other commanders were tense.

"Portuguese Commander..." A call that had illuminated Shiki’s eyes.

"Portuguese... yes, there can be no doubt about it." Shiki laughed, a laugh that no one was sharing. Ace was tense and you were no different, if that man had said one word against Ace’s mother you would have jumped him. Legend or no legend, he wouldn’t dare say a word.

"Newgate you really found the copy of Roger and Rouge. Boy you have the same murderous look of your father, you look so much like him!" And Ace had tended even more to hear the names of his parents and the comparison that had been made.

Izo tried to calm him down but couldn’t.

"The welcome committee is not the best, you should review some etiquette." You said interrupting the man’s laugh. Satch held his breath and Marco prepared to intervene.

Ace had clenched his fists and the flames that you saw with the corner of your eye did not wish anything good.

Shiki stopped laughing and looked at you for a second, grinning.

Bastard.

"Oh, you remember her not only in appearance, but also in character. Rouge was the only woman who feared none of Roger’s enemies." He said the Golden Lion chewing the cigar in his mouth.

Ace used his devil’s fruit, the cigar burst Shiki’s face and the man laughed.

"Jealous like your father. I don’t know if you’re capable of razing an entire island though, Roger did it for Rouge once."

"Ace is not his father!" You blurted out your way to the enemy, "If you’ve come here just to talk about the old days, review your ruddy manners." You said electrocuting him.

"You..."

A blaze of fire had come between you and Shiki, the man had withdrawn to avoid the flames of Ace.

"Oh, that murderous look! You two could do great things, join my crew."

"NEVER" You and Ace yelled.

And Shiki grinned and laughed.

"I’m not going to have a fight with you today, White Beard. But know that those two boys I took will be mine." And then White Beard had taken his Taglianuvole against Shiki. Moby Dick shook with a gash, and Ace grabbed you before he fell.

"Enough now!" He had thundered White Beard with his voice and starting to hit Shiki: "You would never have my children."

Shiki dodged several shots and floated in the air, calling his men to himself.

"You won’t be able to protect them forever Newgate." And as he appeared, he was gone.

Only then did you breathe a sigh of relief, but you didn’t leave Ace’s side for anything.

You could feel your soft legs and your head spinning.

"And you had to see them in your golden days." Satch said as he sat next to you to defuse the tension. All the other commanders nodded and laughed before going to check on their subjects.

Ace sighed heavily before leaning on you. He hated when compared to his father, but this time nothing bad had been said about him.

Mark had joined you and offered you a hand to get up: "In golden times, as Satch says, the battle would be raging for weeks and you had to see Roger." He said Marco dragging you and Ace to the library where you two were interrupted.

White Beard smiled bitterly and was headed to see the damage the ship had suffered.

You took Ace’s hand to calm him down.

Everyone on the ship knew that it was a painful speech of his family, but you were sure that Marco knew what he was doing, he was among the greatest and among those who had sailed the longest with Dad.

"I remember the time Rouge was captured, Roger and Dad had met on an island to discuss the problem of the fish men, and an opposing crew had thought that this would get Roger." Said Marco opening an old photo album and starting to browse it.

"Oh they never did." Izo said taking the photo that portrayed the enemies on the ground with the crews of Roger and White Beard winning.

"My God, Ace, this is your father!" You said looking closely at the photo, Roger was holding Rouge in his arms and smiling victoriously at his crew.

"I don’t know what the fire boy told you, but they loved each other very much." He said Satch took more photos of a party and Ace’s mom dancing in one with Roger and another with White Beard.

"I’ve never seen her in pictures."

Ace took Rouge’s picture and looked at it carefully with you.

"You took his freckles." You said, pointing out the detail: "And I think the cut of his eyes." You added by ripping out a smile.

"Here are many photos, in that period we sailed together for a long time and all of us can tell you that your father was crazy, crazy, adrenaline and lover of adventures, but he loved your mother so much. I’ve never seen a feeling like there was between them. " Satch had dragged you into a suffocating embrace, and both you and Ace were protesting for respite. Oh, when he was playing big brother.

Izo laughed with Marco and then his eyes fell on a picture of Roger and Rouge together and he couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to the two of you, even Roger used to wear his hair, first straw and then captain’s, on Rouge’s head during a fight.

"And your mother, oh boy was the only one who could get both crews to leave." The voice of White Beard had joined you and you had smiled, beginning to understand a little that nostalgic joy that had invaded his eyes when you and Ace had told him you were engaged.

Ace was incredulous at what he was feeling, you could well imagine the whirlwind of emotions that was passing through his mind as you went into his cabin.

You had talked a lot and seen many photos.

And now you were lying on the bed, the album on Ace’s bedside table, the two of you with no clothes and you on Ace.

"Your mother was a beautiful woman." You said as you caressed her chest slowly.

"I had never seen her in pictures, I knew she was a beautiful woman but it’s strange..." She said Ace while stroking your hair and playing with your locks.

"Strange what?" You asked, stroking his chin and playing with his adam’s apple.

"It’s strange to know that they loved each other and that... that my dad wasn’t actually an asshole who got her pregnant and got himself caught right after." You had perceived the tone full of anxiety of Ace and with a caress you invited him to continue talking: "Garp always spoke to me as a marine, but he had never said those things or made me see photos. Now I feel like I don’t know who I am." Ace said stroking your back with his warm palm.

"I know who you are." You said lightly and shoving your elbows on the mattress. Ace looked at you perplexed and you smiled at him lovingly.

"You’re Portuguese D. Ace." You said kissing him on the lip. Ace laughed in the kiss and squeezed you, harpooning your flesh with his fingers.

"You’re the man I love, and that’s good enough for me." You said sitting on him, Ace lifted his torso, and he didn’t stop squeezing your butt. He kissed you, because at that point words were no longer needed among you.

You could feel his heart beating strong, following the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Your tongues danced among them, constantly searching for each other in a kiss that forced you to take oxygen for how intense it was.

More kisses followed as Ace entered you and began to push without respite.

You held on to him, and you let your instincts guide you.

You didn’t object when Ace had you placed on the mattress, you opened your legs better to welcome it all inside you. And he smothered his pleasure as he bit your breasts.

You bit his shoulder so as not to scream when you went back to being on him and started fighting back at his push, until you were both seized with satisfaction.

Three hours later you were lying on the bed again, drenched in sweat with a crumpled sheet to cover you and with your breath short and your pulse racing.

Ace’s lips leaving a kiss on your forehead kept you from falling asleep right away.

"The South route won’t be as quiet as it used to be." Ace said, starting to play with your locks of hair. He was right, the appearance of Shiki meant only one thing, the old systems had started to move.

Your eyes were full of sleep and exhaustion, which is why you fell asleep under Ace’s caresses.

Your boyfriend noticed it and smiled, he decided not to wake up because of the worries there was still time and enjoying your relaxed face was a vision he would never give up.

Ace looked at the picture of his parents, the one you had put inside a frame, and smiled bitterly, he did not know the details of their love story, but of one thing he was sure he would never give up on you to pursue an ideal or a dream.

He would not have done as his father, maybe he had even gone away to protect his beloved, but Ace would never have acted like that, on the contrary he would have fought until his fire had gone out.

And he would burn the world for you.

The route south had become more dangerous, but he didn’t care, Ace had you by his side.

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 10/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

Some of that promised fluff coming right at you. Also, sorry, I’m inflicting my other ships on y’all starting now, but they’ll be mostly background and you can ignore them.

Also, because I feel it needs to be stated: nothing in this chapter is meant to make you feel bad for, or sympathize with, Valentino. He is still a sinner, and so he is in a complicated situation, but most sinners are, and a complicated situation is not an excuse for evil behavior. It simply exists to further the story, as well as to highlight the fact that Val is a hypocrite.

•••

“What the actual fuck is going on in this hotel?”

Vaggie’s firm statement—which would have been basically a scream from anyone else—was out of her mouth the moment Alastor vanished from the room. Charlie watched as her girlfriend looked at the little group still gathered, the angel’s expression one of deep frustration. Nobody answered her immediately, because nobody else seemed to have any idea, either.

Dinner had been very, very weird. It had been good! It had been quite good, since both Angel and Alastor were fantastic at cooking and, since it was Angel’s recipe, there wasn’t any concern about what the… ingredients… might have been. But the mood had been weird, mostly because of the way the two sinners had been talking to each other over the course of the meal.

As soon as she had that thought, Charlie felt kind of terrible. After all, they were getting along, which was good. They were both in friendly moods. Alastor seemed like he was opening up to the idea of making friends, and that was amazing! But there was something else, something different, that she couldn’t quite identify. And now, it looked like she wasn’t the only one thinking it.

Charlie was sitting in the lounge with Vaggie, Husk, and Niffty; Alastor had been present for a few minutes, as well, but had bade them goodnight and vanished. Angel, by contrast, had gone straight to bed as soon as he was done cleaning up, which was also weird. Even if he didn’t want to hang out with any of them, he usually went out in the evening, if he could get away with it. And now, Vaggie was pacing, and that… wasn’t helping the energy.

Niffty was the first one who actually spoke in the weird silence that followed Vaggie’s questions. “Alastor and Angel are friends,” she said.

“Alastor doesn’t have friends,” Husk countered, leaning on the arm of the couch and pressing a half-full glass of ice water against his temple.

Niffty turned her head to look at him. “Alastor has Rosie.”

“Rosie doesn’t count.” Husk turned his own head just enough to return her frown. “Rosie is the exception that proves the rule.”

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Charlie asked, looking between the three of them. “I mean, yes, it… it’s a little strange, sure, but there isn’t anything wrong with it, is there?”

“You should always be worried about Alastor spending a lot of time alone with someone,” Husk said, turning his head away again.

“That isn’t even my point,” Vaggie said. “The two of them have been strange. I said as much to Angel Dust, and I know he knew what I was talking about. And I think the two of you do, too.”

Niffty tilted her head, but her expression was oddly neutral for the usually manic little sinner. “I won’t talk about it.”

“So you do know something.”

“Yes,” Niffty said, her tone not changing. “And I won’t talk about it.”

Vaggie made a noise of frustration. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not my business. It’s Alastor’s,” Niffty said with a shrug. “If he wanted you to know, he would have talked to you about it. But he didn’t. He talked to me.”

With a quiet noise of frustration, Vaggie put her face in her hands and walked a few steps away, muttering under her breath in Spanish. Charlie watched her with sympathy, but turned her attention to Niffty and Husk almost immediately. “We just want to help.”

“He doesn’t need help!” Niffty said, her expression morphing into a frown. “He knows what he’s doing!”

“No,” Husk said. “He doesn’t. Neither of them do.”

Niffty shushed him, but Charlie focused on the bartender exclusively. “Husk… what happened?”

“Don’t,” Niffty said, her voice lightly pleading.

Husk sighed. He looked at Niffty, and his expression looked sad. Complicated. “Alastor didn’t tell me shit,” he told her. “Angel did.”

Niffty didn’t look happy, but she looked away, holding her hands up like she was giving up on the situation. Husk watched her, and Charlie thought he might change his mind, but after a few moments he looked up at Charlie. “You can’t lose your shit over this. Either of you.”

“We won’t,” Charlie said, before Vaggie could get aggressive again. She reached out to her girlfriend, and when she reluctantly accepted her hand, Charlie pulled her back down to sit beside her on the couch. “We’re just worried and we want to know that nothing bad is happening.”

Husk closed his eyes and leaned his temple into the cold glass again. He looked like he had a headache. “…the kid talked to me one night about… I dunno. Two weeks ago, I guess. A little less, maybe. Didn’t want to, he made that pretty clear. It was when he locked himself up in his room that whole day. When I finally got him to get to the point, he asked me about… about soul marks.”

Charlie frowned. “He asked… …why?”

“Because Alastor, apparently, woke his up.”

Gasping softly, Charlie covered her mouth with her hand. “He what…??”

Vaggie, on the other hand, didn’t react at all. “Woke his what up?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

“His— oh, right, you wouldn’t…” Charlie trailed off before she provided everyone with yet another reminder that Vaggie wasn’t actually a sinner. “It’s something that all sinners and Hellborn have. …well. Almost all,” she amended. “Nobody knows why they exist, but the best theory is that they’re another punishment that Hell created. They’re a mark that’s supposed to tell you who your soulmate is. When you meet and first touch, then your soul marks… become active, or wake up, and you know you’re meant to be together.”

“A perversion of the promise of happiness,” Husk said darkly. “Never seen it cause anything except unhappiness, myself.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed softly. “Me too.”

Vaggie frowned. “That… that doesn’t sound very happy,” she said. “Who would want Hell telling them who they’re supposed to love?”

Charlie shrugged. “Some people think they come from Asmodeus, but Uncle Ozzie assured me it’s not one of his spells. He doesn’t know, either.”

“I see.” Vaggie paused, and Charlie could hear her thinking. “…you said almost everyone,” she added, a little hesitantly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t have one,” Charlie said with a shrug. “But I didn’t think it was that weird. My parents didn’t, either. You know, fallen angel, human cast into Hell alive, it… it made sense.” She twisted her hands together in her lap, her mind conjuring up the sounds of her parents yelling at each other in another room, and did her best to banish it. “Husk, do you know… does Alastor…?”

“Angel said so,” Husk said, watching her with a critical, suspicious eye. She immediately stilled her hands. “But I don’t know myself, no. Alastor and I don’t exactly chat about that kind of thing.”

“So what are they doing?” Vaggie asked. “I don’t believe that, out of nowhere, Angel Dust and the Radio Demon have just… decided to give in to some kind of romantically cursed fate.”

“I don’t know.” Husk looked away. “And neither do they. That’s pretty obvious. But if they’re… plotting together, or something, you’re going to have to ask them.”

Charlie nodded. The silence was thoughtful, but heavy, and the princess watched the shadows on the wall flickering in the firelight. Eventually, Niffty spoke again. “I wish Cherri hadn’t moved out.”

Husk twitched, the ice in his glass rattling, but he didn’t look at her. Charlie looked between the two of them. Cherri Bomb had moved into the hotel after the extermination and Sir Pentious’ death, but only for a short period of time. It was less than a month before she was gone again, the stated excuse being that redemption was “boring and not her thing”, but it was so abrupt that Charlie knew something had happened. Vaggie squeezed Charlie’s hand, but spoke to Niffty. “Why?”

“Because if anybody knows what Angel’s thinking, it’s her. And she would be easier to talk to than Rosie.” Niffty glanced at Husk.

The maid didn’t even open her mouth before the bartender said, “No.”

“Husk,” Niffty said, clearly frustrated.

“No, Niff,” Husk repeated more firmly, looking down at her again. “She made it pretty fucking clear she doesn’t want to talk to me, and I’m not gonna get my head blown off for trying to get her to talk about her best friend behind his back.”

Charlie frowned. “…you know her better than the rest of us do, Husk,” she said. “At least, from what I hear.”

“She did used to hang out at the bar a lot when she was here,” Vaggie added suspiciously.

“Because she drinks like alcohol is her replacement for oxygen,” Husk grumbled.

Niffty made a noise of frustration and stood up on the couch (probably only because she wasn’t wearing shoes), leaning in to Husk’s face and pointing at the door. He immediately leaned away from her, stopped by the arm of the couch from escaping, his eyes wide and his ears flicked back. “Look,” Niffty said firmly. “I don’t care if you have weird hangups, and I don’t care if you’re not a real bad boy! You’re gonna man up and you’re gonna talk to her and you’re gonna figure out how we can help Alastor and Angel!”

Husk held one hand up. “Shit, Niff, okay, fine, chill the fuck out. I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow, okay?”

Immediately, Niffty brightened. “Good!” she chirped, reaching up to pat the top of his hat before she hopped down to sit on the couch again.

“Um… thank you, Niffty, Husk,” Charlie said, smiling at them. “I guess that’s all we can do for now. We’ll keep an eye on them until we find out more.” Both Alastor and Angel were so volatile, there was no telling how they would respond to any level of probing.

It wasn’t long before they disbanded and headed off to their separate rooms. Charlie hesitated outside Angel’s door, debating knocking to see if he was okay, but she didn’t hear any sounds inside. Was he asleep? After a few seconds, she thought better of it, following after Vaggie and closing the door to their bedroom behind her.

It wasn’t until they had both dressed for bed and Charlie sat on the edge of the mattress, yawning, that Vaggie caught her hand and drew her attention. “Charlie… are you okay?”

Charlie looked at her. “I’m fine!” she said, far too brightly. It was hard not to cringe at her own tone, especially since Vaggie’s face told her that the angel could tell, too. “…why do you ask?”

“It’s… kind of obvious, babe,” Vaggie said carefully. “I know I don’t really get the whole soul mark thing, but I could tell it was getting you down. Is it because you don’t have one?”

“Oh, no, it isn’t that,” Charlie said with a quiet sigh. “It was just… it was my parents,” she said, looking away.

Vaggie waited for her to expand on that, but when she didn’t, she asked, “Because they don’t have them?”

“No, it…” Charlie exhaled in a huff that ruffled her hair briefly. “They didn’t have them, no, not for a long time. …my dad doesn’t know that I know this, but… when I was little, after I had been put to bed, I heard them arguing. They didn’t really do that, ever, so I got worried, and I…”

“…you went to see what was wrong.” Vaggie smiled a little. “You haven’t changed much.”

Charlie almost giggled. “I guess not,” she said, returning the tiny smile before looking down at her lap again. “I went to their bedroom door and listened. I just wanted to make sure they were okay. And I found out my dad…” She twisted her hands in the soft silk of her pants. “…my dad manifested a soul mate mark. And my mom didn’t. And… and his wasn’t for her.” She gestured loosely and meaninglessly. “He said that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care about a mark, but for some reason she really, really did. It… I don’t think it ruined their marriage, but it sped it up, or made it worse, or… well, it didn’t help, at least. All it did was hurt them. I just don’t want to see that happen to Alastor and Angel, too. I don’t want this to hurt them.”

“Hey.” Vaggie took both of her hands in her own and made Charlie look at her, squeezing gently. “It won’t,” she said. “We won’t let anything happen to them, okay? We’ll find out what’s happening and we’ll figure it out.”

It was more complicated than that. Charlie knew that. But she knew Vaggie knew it, too, and arguing wouldn’t help. She had to believe everything was going to be okay. She had to. “Yeah,” Charlie said, giving Vaggie a smile that she didn’t feel, but she would soon. “We will.”

•••

Rage was exhausting.

It was even worse when rage was all you had to fuel yourself.

Valentino made another circuit of his room, his mind a cyclone of rage and half-formed plots with no middle part and a sickening feeling of Want that he had always associated with Angel Dust and had only grown darker, heavier… nauseating. The fact that his amorcito didn’t wear his mark was insulting enough.

But to know, beyond doubt, that he wore Alastor’s? That his beloved pet’s flesh was marred with an image bestowed by the soul of the Radio Demon?

How much am I going to have to lose to that fucking broken, psychotic little cervid? First Vox, and now…

Valentino seized a statue and threw it to the ground, where it shattered tile and burst in a cloud of stone dust. He didn’t even hear the door open, but he did hear it close.

“Val.”

Valentino tensed, his wings twitching on his back, before he looked over his shoulder. Vox was wearing his annoyed but resigned expression, his tie and hat gone, his jacket open, and everything about his demeanor suggestive of a very long day. The other overlord was watching him, and Valentino got the distinct impression that he was the current primary cause of that exhaustion.

“What the fuck do you want?” Valentino asked.

Vox’s eyebrow lowered further. “Look. I get it. You’re pissed,” he said, coming further into the room and waving away a small, lingering cloud of Val’s smoke. “But you have got to chill the fuck out about this.”

“How do you expect me to do that?!” Valentino snarled, rounding on Vox, his wings spreading outwards slightly on instinct. “How am I supposed to ignore this, Vox?!”

“Because… Angel Dust and Alastor are spending time together,” Vox said; it was phrased as a statement, but Valentino knew a question when he heard one.

Valentino forced his wings to lower, focusing on the light of Vox’s face. “…how have you not put this together yet?”

“Put what together?”

“They are soulmates, Vox!”

Valentino’s voice echoed in the sudden silence of the room. Vox’s eyes were wide as he blinked once, twice… and then his expression collapsed and he started laughing. To anyone else, it was a terrifying declaration of his mirth, but to Valentino… to Valentino, it was Vox’s disbelieving rage bursting forth in the only form it could without erupting from him as a scream. “You’re not fucking serious!” Vox cackled, his eyes flying wide as he stared at Valentino. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that Alastor has a soulmate? And that it’s your little arachnid whore?!”

Valentino narrowed his eyes, waiting for the sound of Vox’s laughter to die enough to speak over it. “I’ve seen Angel Dust’s mark many, many times. It’s a deer skull, complete with antlers. So you tell me, Vox. Angel Dust’s deer skull soul mark comes alive. He tells us that he has no relationship to break with his soul mate. And now, Angel Dust is seen alone, at a night club, dancing with the Radio Demon, who happens to be a deer. Is that the action your precious rival would take if Angel’s mark was unreciprocated? That would be very kind of him.”

Vox’s eyes were still wide, but his laughter had died down. His lip was curled just slightly, and it kept twitching, like he was fighting the urge to bare his teeth. “Val…”

Valentino knew he was pushing Vox, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “Sounds more like Alastor must have a little spider somewhere on his untouchable skin. Wonder how that interaction must have gone down, don’t you, mi amore? And if Alastor has Angel Dust’s soul mark, it makes you wonder what they might be doing right now—!!”

Valentino’s voice left him as his airflow was choked off by something cold, hard, and oddly flexible. He reached up and felt what had wrapped around his throat—a cable, one of the thousands that Vox had threaded through the building and could control with what was functionally Wi-Fi but might as well have just been his mind—as it tightened and yanked him backwards until he lost his footing and hit the ground. His glasses skidded across the tile floor with a soft clatter, and Vox’s sharp heeled boots clicked ominously as he moved to stand over the supine moth.

“I told you,” Vox said, in a voice full of a strange and deadly stillness, “to calm down. You will cooperate, or I will beat you into submission.”

Valentino gritted his teeth, stilling in his struggles against the cable around his throat… but it was a different feeling, the memory of something else latched around his neck, that truly made him stop. That cold, heavy, sharp, always present, blinding electric blue…

why did I let myself give it to you

Valentino nodded, just once. Vox’s eye twitched, and the cable released him, allowing him to gasp air back into his lungs. He rolled over onto his side, pushing two of his hands against the floor to keep himself up.

He could feel Vox staring at him, but soon, the other overlord turned on his heel and began slowly pacing a short distance back and forth. “Let’s say you’re right,” Vox said. “Angel Dust is well aware of his deadline, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Valentino rasped. He didn’t push himself to his feet. There were times that he could test Vox. There were times that he was even Vox’s equal. This, very clearly, was not one of those times.

“…well,” Vox said, thoughtful. “More than likely, Alastor will take care of breaking the bond for us. Not by killing him,” he said, when Valentino moved to protest, “simply by being himself. I know Alastor. He destroys everything he touches. He can’t help himself.”

Valentino swallowed past the rage in his throat. “…and if he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, and if Angel Dust fails, then you will simply keep him here.”

Vox cast him a look, and Valentino knew he could stand up, getting to his feet. “Keep him here?”

“If Angel Dust fails to break the bond by his deadline…” Vox placed Valentino’s glasses in the moth’s hand, slowly folding Valentino’s fingers over them. “We will retrieve him. We have assassins on retainer, I’m sure they will be able to handle him if they catch him off guard. And then, you simply won’t let him leave.”

Valentino didn’t know what Vox was planning. It was something—Vox never proposed a plan if he didn’t have seven other unspoken reasons that he wanted it done—and it probably had to do with Alastor, because when it came to Vox… it almost always had to do with Alastor.

Valentino thought about the arch of his own foot, where he bore those strange lines that he hadn’t understood until he’d seen them on one of Vox’s electrical blueprints. When he’d asked, Vox had been in a patient mood, and had described them as the electrical symbols that represented a battery of three cells and variable resistance.

He didn’t tell Vox why he asked, but he still wondered if Vox had an antlered deer somewhere on his skin, too. He wondered, but he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to know.

Vox was pacing again, and Valentino delicately cleaned his glasses, replacing them. “He won’t be happy,” he said. “Mi amorcito is very vocal about his freedoms, and the princessa seems to think she can exert her authority over us. Are you prepared to deal with that?”

“We will be,” Vox said. He walked up to Valentino and placed his hands on the taller sinner’s shoulders, smiling up at him as he squeezed. “Whether they break the bond or not, it won’t matter. We will take care of it is they don’t, and either way, we will make sure Angel Dust never leaves your side again, if that’s what you want.”

Valentino nodded once, resisting the temptation to bare his teeth again. “I still want to kill Alastor.”

Vox tightened his grip for just a second. “You let me handle Alastor. Don’t worry,” he added, slipping back into that voice that Velvette called his ‘placating Val’ voice. “I promise you, you’ll get all the violent revenge on Alastor you could possibly want.”

Valentino smirked. “You’re so good at talking dirty to me, baby.”

Vox laughed softly, his voice crackling with electricity. “I’ll make your wait worth it, my little white witch. I promise. And I always keep my promises, don’t I?”

“…yes, Voxxy. Always.”

•••

The next couple of days were some of the most surreal in Angel Dust’s life. He was technically still in a recovery period after his last filming session, which meant some time to himself that he was supposed to use for recuperation. It was the only thing he’d ever been grateful to Vox for… well, that, and everything else that he was granted in the name of ‘the image’. It didn’t matter why Angel had the days off, of course, because it meant no VoxTek, no shoots, and (most importantly) no Valentino.

Usually, Angel spent these days doing anything except resting, usually getting out, going to clubs, getting his hands on drugs he wasn’t supposed to have, and staying out all night. Usually. But the night after Alastor showed Angel his radio tower, the spider woke up at a reasonable time, and even though it wasn’t quite noon yet… he felt good.

Angel touched his lips, remembering the warmth of Alastor pressed against him what felt like only minutes ago. The weight of his brow against Angel’s own, the sharp touch of his claws that could have gutted him but only gently grazed his skin, the anxious flutter of his breath as he tried to keep his murderous impulses under control…

…yeah. The fact that Angel thought Alastor controlling his murderous impulses was sweet… that was concerning. So was the fact that Alastor still smelled like death and blood, and it had been almost overpowering so close, but Angel hadn’t cared. Maybe he hadn’t even minded.

“Nuggs, I think I’m nuts.”

Angel rolled out of bed, dressed, and had just stepped into the hallway with a mind towards finding some breakfast or something when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Angel turned on his heel and saw a shadow disappear around a corner, and he couldn’t control the smile that practically burst onto his face at just that little glimpse.

“I saw you,” he said in a teasing voice, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a few steps towards the corner. “Why’re you hiding from me, big boy?”

Alastor’s shadow peeked around the corner, a funny image since it was plastered to the wall, and gave Angel a grin that almost looked shy. When Angel didn’t balk, the shadow came out of hiding entirely, swooping around Angel’s own shadow and sending a terrifying chill down his spine that made him giggle. It felt, somehow, like something had actually swirled around him for a moment. As though the shadow had realized that Angel was happy to see it, the form raised its hand and beckoned for Angel to follow before its smile widened and it seemed to fly down the corridor.

“Ah— wait!” Angel said, hurrying after it, but he only got halfway down the hall before a hand reached out from a small alcove and grabbed him by the wrist. He was pulled into the alcove with a sharp squeak, the force sending him into a dizzying little spin before he was suddenly pinned with his back against the wall.

“Hello, sha.”

Angel laughed breathlessly, blinking his dizziness away only to find himself looking into Alastor’s gently glowing eyes. “Holy shit, Smiles, you scared the fuck outta me. You coulda just knocked or somethin’, you know.”

“Oh, I know. This was more fun,” Alastor said with a sinister grin, tilting his head to the side. He the reset to his neutral smile as Angel laughed again. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake.”

“Did you send your shadow to spy or something?”

“Not… precisely.” He paused, and Angel felt one of Alastor’s claws stroke along the inside of his wrist. “…admittedly, I wasn’t sure you would want to see me right now.”

Angel snorted quietly and, clearly telegraphing his movements, he raised his higher set of arms to wrap loosely around Alastor’s shoulders. “Why wouldja think a silly thing like that?”

“Thought you might have come to your senses about last night.”

“I don’t got senses.” Angel regarded him thoughtfully. “Thought you hated being touched.”

“Oh, I do,” Alastor said brightly. “And I wouldn’t recommend initiating anything like this yourself. I’ve been told I’m a little volatile!” The sheer, absurd cheer in his voice made Angel laugh again. Alastor’s expression grew a little more subdued, but his smile was no less genuine. “…there is something… different about you, Angel. I don’t mean to be trite, but your touch… The touch of others can feel like shards of glass even through my coat, but you are… soft,” he said finally, like the word wasn’t adequate but he couldn’t come up with another one.

Angel tilted back against the wall. “This part of what you want to figure out?”

“If you’ll permit it.”

“And then what?”

Alastor tilted his head, a brief buzz of confused static filling the alcove.

Angel grinned. “I mean… what happens when you figure it out?”

“No idea!” Alastor said. “That’s the fun of it, my dear, don’t you think? I never know how I might respond from one moment to the next!”

“Hoo boy,” Angel said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Okay, fine. But I got a couplea conditions here.”

Alastor’s eyebrow went up. “I’m listening.”

“First, you gotta tell me how you’re doin’. And I mean, whenever you think it’s important, no matter how much it changes up.”

“Fair enough. And?”

“And, if your mood changes while we’re doin’ somethin’ like this, you ain’t allowed to freak out on me. I ain’t losin’ a hand or worse just cause you suddenly decided you don’t wanna be touched anymore. Just… tell me, and I’ll back off, I promise. Kay?”

“Communication. Lovely!” Alastor chirped. “This must be that elusive consent that’s so difficult to come by down here.”

“Exactly. Easy, and then I don’t lose an arm. Or a kidney.”

“Unless you consent to that.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me with a good time.”

Alastor smiled at that, hesitated, and then kissed Angel again.

It was very much the same as the night before, though more confident and certain. Afterwards, he released the spider and headed off through his shadows to do his work, and Angel was left to hum to himself as he practically danced down the hallway and the stairs to the kitchen.

That was all Angel needed to make up his mind about whether or not he was spending the day in the hotel. He suddenly became the most suspiciously helpful being in the hotel, giving Charlie a hand with her filing and aiding Niffty in some cleaning and organizing. He caught up on some of his knitting and a bit of reading, he did some prep work in the kitchen, and he took Nuggets out for a walk in the hotel’s small garden. All throughout the day, to the bewilderment of everyone else, he would randomly disappear as a hand snatched him into a shadowy corner to whisper to him, to kiss him, to make him laugh into his own hands to stay quiet. Then, Angel would emerge, and no one would see him reappear, just as they hadn’t seen him vanish… but they all knew he was gone.

It was exhilarating, in a way; thrilling, even though it seemed so low-stakes in the safety of the hotel, to be sneaking around under everyone else’s noses. Alastor seemed to be enjoying it, too, his smile brighter than usual as he tended to hotel business with Charlie or harassed Husk (though Angel thought he seemed more good-natured than usual even in that).

The next day was much the same, until two o’clock rolled around. Angel was curled up in a chair, counting in his head as he worked on his knitting, when Alastor’s voice just behind him made him jump.

“Hello, Angel.”

“Oh my fuck hi Alastor,” Angel said, frowning almost immediately. “Aww, you made me drop a stitch.”

“Terribly sorry, my dear,” Alastor said with a smile that didn’t look sorry at all. “I was heading out on an errand and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been shut away for nearly two days now. I thought you might like to come with me.”

“Really?” Angel asked, perking up slightly and setting his knitting down. He could fix it later. “Sure, Al, sounds good.”

Unlike the last time they left the hotel together, nobody stopped them, but Angel could feel eyes following them as they headed out again. Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, going so far as to comment as soon as they were out of earshot, “Don’t worry about them, my dear. If they have concerns, I have little doubt that they will be addressing them to me before you, and I will do my level best to redirect their attention before you fall victim to yet another interrogation.”

“I appreciate that, Smiles,” Angel said as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw Cherri had texted him, opening it up. “Where we goin’?”

< “hey bitch do u no y husk called me” >

Angel raised an eyebrow at his phone as Alastor said, “Simply dropping off Charlie’s restocking order for her, nothing taxing. I thought we might take a walk after, if you were interested.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Angel said, firing off a text response.

< “Sorry, bb, aint got no idea, did he leave a message?” >

“Everything alright?” Alastor asked. He actually sounded interested.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I think so,” Angel said. “Cherri said Husk called her.”

“Really…” Alastor sounded keenly interested now. “Old Husker, calling Miss Cherri Bomb. Oh, that is a very interesting tidbit of information.”

Angel looked at him. “You’d better not harass him over this—!” He jumped a little when his phone vibrated again.

< “lol fuck no he didnt, called yesterday n today, thot u mite no if smth was wrong” >

“Are those words?” Alastor asked, the sneer audible in his voice.

Angel jumped and pressed his phone into his chest fluff. “Don’t read my phone!”

“I didn’t,” Alastor said with an airy shrug and an unconvincingly innocent smile. “There was nothing to read, simply gibberish.”

Angel laughed quietly, texting back. “We come from the same era, old man, get with the times.”

“I refuse.”

< “Sorry hon, guess you gotta call him back” >

Angel pocketed his phone again and didn’t bother looking when it vibrated again, since it was probably just Cherri cursing at him. “Whaddya got against technology, anyway?”

“I find it an unnecessary distraction.”

Angel snorted. “You wouldn’t be able to figure out a smart phone to save your life.”

Alastor glanced at him, his eyes narrowed and his smile sharp. “Of course I could. Trivial. I simply feel no need to.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I know when I am being baited, Angel Dust. I will not permit you to do it.”

“Okay, sure, be that way, big bad Radio Demon.”

Alastor made a noise that sounded like an annoyed radio, and Angel couldn’t help laughing… but that was mostly because Alastor’s smile was still one of the most genuine Angel had ever seen.

•••

If th’ boys don’t get here soon, I ain’t gonna be responsible for them missin’ shit.

Just Millie’s luck, she supposed, that she would be the one on truck duty when the alarm went off and the surveillance camera informed her, mostly because of its scrambled image, that the Radio Demon had just left the hotel. She immediately fired off messages to Moxxie, Blitzø, and Loona (if Blitzø wanted her out then he would have to nut up and talk to her himself, she wasn’t gonna exclude the girl to make his job easier) before grabbing the equipment VoxTek had provided and hurrying out of the van.

The Radio Demon was very easy to spot, as was his companion, Angel Dust. As she followed them, Millie found herself either thinking about how cool this job was or how much better Angel Dust’s legs looked in person, both of which were not the mission. But it was the Radio Demon!

Just her luck that the one time she got an opportunity to meet him, it was through stalking him and she wasn’t actually allowed to talk to him. What a load of horseshit.

Millie kept an eye on her coworkers’ locations, but she knew she would be doing most of this herself, so she just stuck to the program as she followed the two to some kind of emporium where Alastor talked to someone behind a counter for a brief moment, and then the two left again and just started… walking around.

It wasn’t long before Millie figured out what they were doing. Casually strolling, chatting, occasionally pausing to point at something in a store… they were window shopping and going for a walk. Millie frowned to herself, wondering just what the hell made the Vees so interested in this; it looked very casual, nothing secretive or threatening, no plots being made… Why did they care so much?

From across the street and positioned behind a dumpster, Millie raised the camera that would automatically take a long series of rapid-fire pictures (necessary for Alastor, according to Vox), and she watched the two of them through the lens. They were both looking at something through a window, Angel Dust pointing, before they turned at the same time to look at each other. Millie pressed the button, and the camera began taking its pictures, just as Alastor raised his hand and brushed a stray shred of burned fabric from the pyre on the next street from Angel Dust’s hair.

Millie’s eyes widened a little and she lowered the camera, then she crouched fully behind the dumpster and looked at the screen on the back. She pulled up the previews of the images she had just took, then flipped through them to roughly the middle of the set.

They were both smiling, which seemed normal for the Radio Demon, but Millie was pretty sure this was different. Angel Dust was giggling, his cheeks pink, and Alastor’s expression… she had seen a look like that before.

She had seen it on Moxxie, the evening of their first real date, when he came to pick her up and saw her in the dress she had bought special, just for the occasion.

“You look… beautiful, Millie.”

Millie lowered the camera and stared at the ground. Suddenly, she had a very, very sick feeling about this job.

•••

Val: Makes you wonder what they’re doing RIGHT NOW

Well going by the timing they were probably making out in Alastor’s radio tower, Val

[galkyrie]

7. “This is not what I had in mind. Like. At all.”

This sounds like a very Tim thing to say👀

Tim couldn't help but feel like he was interrupting, that he'd gotten the day wrong. He had let himself into Jay's apartment like he usually did- whenever Jason would perfect his latest recipe, he'd invite Tim over to take pictures of the final result for his recipe journal- and had been expecting the usual smell of toasting sugar or warm chocolate or browned butter to be filling the space. He had expected to be able to set up the ligting and fuss with his camera until it was just right, and let Jason review the pictures while he snuck tastes from the various mixing bowls in the space.

He hadn't expected candles. Or the table to be set for two, or the smell of fresh baked bread and cooking herbs to fill his nostrils, making his mouth water.

He certainly hadn't expected the realization that he'd likely interrupted Jason preparing for a date to make him so-

He breathed out, pushing away the prickly feeling in his chest at the idea, and spoke when he was sure he could go for lighthearted without it seeming feigned.

"I thought you were baking today?" He fidgeted with the shoulder strap of his bag instead of looking over to where the man was leaning over the stove, stirring something that smelled amazing. It probably would've been better to slip back out of the apartment as quietly as possible and double check the dates on his burner phone used exclusively for keeping in contact with Jason, but-

That little pit of disappointment that this wasn't for him was making him reckless. Selfish in his urge to prod and possibly see if Jason had just forgotten about their thing in favor of some romantic gesture-

That he...wanted to be for him. Okay. That was- that was new. When he'd started hanging out with him- or really, when he'd shouldered his way into making Jason let him help with his hobby- that wasn't what he had in mind. Like, at all.

He definitely should've slipped out the front the moment he'd seen candles and gone home to lick his wounds, because this was not the time or the place to be dealing with that particular revelation.

"I baked yesterday." Jason was gruff when he answered, interrupting Tim's panic over his newly-realized and thoroughly unwelcome feelings in favor of confirmation that yes, he had messed up his days.

Instead of kicking him out, Jason kept talking. Tim couldn't quite believe it. He'd gotten the day wrong and stumbled upon him pulling together an amazing smelling candlelit dinner that was almost done and instead of shooing him out of the apartment, he just shot him one of his easy grins. "Yeah, been bakin' all week. Had to get a new recipe together fast."

"Why the rush?" Tim tried to sound casual, setting his bag down on the counter and focusing entirely too much on retrieving his camera.

"Well I had to get something together after I found out I missed your birthday, Tim." He shot him a meaningful look. probably broadcasting disappointment in him. "Why didn'tcha let me know last week that it was your birthday? I had to read it in the society pages of the Gazette."

"Um," Tim set his camera down, finally meeting Jason's gaze head on. "It was?"

"You forgot?" Jason sounded flabbergasted, turning away from the stove to look at him fully. "Seriously?"

"I was on a mission! Time was weird there," Tim defended, "I'm still adjusting to what month it is, and it's not a big deal anyways-"

"-Big deal or not," Jason pointed at him with a spoon, "Your friend who bakes would've liked some forewarning before having to cobble together an actually edible version of your favorite cake."

"First of all, Snoballs are actually great," Tim jumped to tread over familiar ground, because-

Jason spent days baking a, probably much better, replica of his favorite snack cake and Tim showed up the day they were supposed to meet to the man preparing a candlelit dinner. He cast a furtive glance to he table, at the warm glow of the setting, and bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the sappy smile wanting to take over his face.

Maybe he was right where he was supposed to be, after all.

[shiklah]

sinners

part II

{part I}

Castlevania

Alucard x reader

After a few days, she was feeling much better. She was tired of lying in bed, even though Adrian kept her company for a few hours each day. To keep from going mad, she asked him to bring her books, anything he had on hand. By now, she had read through most of the local fauna and flora, a multi-volume collection of poetry, mostly tragic rather than uplifting, and even some excerpts from the Bible.

However, idleness was weighing on her more than the illness, so when the morning seemed warm enough, and the sun was still low, she announced that she was ready to continue her journey. She put on her cloak, which, by the way, she had carefully cleaned during those few days of inactivity.

But he wasn't pleased. He had gotten somewhat used to her presence; she kept him occupied, and he took advantage of that. It was hard for him to admit, but he might have even liked her. He realized that he was once again putting himself at risk, and he wasn't sure if she was worth it. His intuition, which could also be wrong, urged him to give her a chance.

He saw that she was tired of staying in one place, but he appreciated that she followed his instructions. He tried to keep her occupied with conversation, short, casual stories from his life, and he brought her books. He was surprised that she could read; she didn't seem to be of noble birth, but he concluded that being able to read was almost necessary for someone who practiced magic.

He liked listening to her talk about her family. About the books full of spells, poison recipes, antidotes, medicines, and elixirs, passed down through generations. She told him that the women in her family had been teaching magic for generations, trying to help other women who needed it. They supported the poor, those rejected by the church and society. They taught that there was always a way out of any situation, and he couldn't help but think how much she reminded him of his mother. So innocent, with a good heart and an open mind, fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves.

He behaved as coldly and cautiously as he had the night they met, yet he was completely different. His hair was clean and combed, cascading down to his collarbones. His shirt was washed and smelled of soap, fitting snugly around his shoulders and back. His gaze was still menacing, but not as tired. Back then, she could have sworn he was nobility. The grace with which he carried himself, the way he responded to every question, how his pale, delicate skin bore no marks of hard, peasant labor, and how his well-groomed hair shone in the sunlight. Or perhaps all vampires were like that? Proud, cold, beautiful, and noble.

When he led her to the exit, not as firmly as the first night when he took her to the room, she finally had a chance to take a better look at the castle. It was still frightening, but he too looked different. The disarray was gone. The interior smelled of water, desperation, and herbs, the dust covering every possible object was swept away, and even the crookedly hung paintings had been put back in place.

And then a bold thought crossed her mind. Since she had been in the castle, so much had changed, and she hoped it was thanks to her. She could see how hurt and lonely he was. Maybe they didn’t have to become the best of friends right away, but she could make his days a little better, just as she knew best—through conversation, silly jokes, good food, and simply by being there. After all, no one wanted to be alone forever.

"I know I’m asking a lot," she began as they descended the stone stairs. He stopped in mid-step and looked back at her, sending her a questioning glance. She gripped the banister, but didn’t take her uncertain gaze off him. "Would you let me stay here for the winter?"

Something inside him screamed not to agree to it under any circumstances. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t let anyone deceive him again or offer help without expecting anything in return. But was this help truly without any expectation? He provided her with food and shelter, but he used her presence whenever he could. He didn’t want her to leave, something he couldn’t fully admit to himself.

"Alright then"

***

She loved to cook, and she did it exceptionally well. Almost every evening, she busied herself in the kitchen, preparing dishes from whatever he managed to buy or hunt.

At first, he would bring whatever he could find at the village market, which was several miles away from the castle, or whatever he managed to hunt in the woods—fish, leftover vegetables, grains. And she never once offered even a word of criticism. She could conjure miracles from anything he brought her.

Previously, he hadn't paid much attention to what he ate; he was more concerned with simply surviving. He ate whatever he could find every few days, just enough to not starve. But with her in mind, he started bringing her tastier and more expensive products day by day. He brought rabbits, venison, or wild boar, treated her to wine and mead, and more and more often bought spices. She still never commented on it, but he could see the satisfaction on her face.

“The last time I ate this well was probably at Louis's court,” she said dreamily, washing the sweet words down with even sweeter wine.

They sat at a small kitchen table. The evening was dark and cold, but she had grown tired of the artificial white light, coaxing Adrian to light some candles. He complied without protest, so only the table, their nearly empty plates, two wine goblets, and their relaxed figures were well-lit.

"You liked the aristocracy," he observed, looking at her with amusement. She often spoke of her visits to various European courts. He didn’t feel she was boasting about it; she just considered it an interesting part of her life. And he listened with interest. He hadn’t had the chance to see much in his own life, so her vivid descriptions of nature, people, and their cultures definitely brightened his winter evenings.

“No. I liked their food, the respect they gave me, the colorful fabrics, and the shiny jewelry. But I honestly despise the aristocracy.”

He laughed low, shaking his head in disbelief. She could read, was intelligent despite not being formally educated, and could find her place in any hut, on any court, in any village or town. Her stories were always interesting and funny, full of flair. If it weren't for the fact that she had admitted to being a witch, he would have been sure she worked in a traveling theater. She had so much charisma that after only a few weeks spent together, he couldn’t imagine a day without her company. She seemed to fill the room with her presence, yet she still respected his space. She didn’t invade his comfort zone, didn’t press him for personal details, and didn’t expect confessions. She simply existed, and he was beginning to feel like she existed just for him.

***

Day by day, he showed her more and more. He took her to the library, large and spacious, filled to the brim with books, mostly about magic and herbalism, which didn’t surprise her too much.

He showed her his father's workshop, full of colorful glass, maps, and instruments with names she didn’t know. She didn’t know if every vampire was a witch, but his father seemed to be one. Or maybe it was his mother who practiced magic? She had no idea, didn’t want to ask, and honestly, it shouldn’t have concerned her. What mattered was that Adrian had freely allowed her to settle into that workshop.

So, nearly every day, she spent several hours expanding her magical skills. She wasn’t a sorceress; she couldn’t weave the elements like some mages could. But she could prepare spells and curses, conduct rituals, and celebrate sabbats, which she used to spend with her family.

And he liked to sit in the workshop with her. They would get lost in books, she would tell him about family traditions and herbs, make potions, some more successful than others. He couldn’t take his admiring eyes off her when he saw her joy, enthusiasm, and eagerness to learn, to continue what generations of women before her had passed down. She was so full of life and happiness that he envied her dedication.

***

She saw how, day by day, he was changing a little. More and more often, he greeted her with sweet smiles rather than venomous glares. He let her move freely around the castle, even showing her his modestly furnished room. He gave her books that he knew she would be interested in. He found herbs for her that she could use. He complimented her cooking, her work ethic, and her literary taste. She felt that he was blooming, that he was starting to show her his sweet, sticky, pleasant side, which he had once hidden like the greatest treasure. And she couldn’t help but fall for the man he was becoming.

However, that was one of the secrets she wasn’t going to share with him. He was kind, understanding, non-judgmental. He listened to everything she said and remembered every detail. He was simply a charming man, one she was ready to lose her head for.

“I found an entire book dedicated solely to wormwood,” he began, entering the room—the same one where she had spent her first night in the castle. The fire was crackling merrily, just as it had that night, and the evening was as cold and deadly as it had been, but this time, she wasn’t sitting on the carpet. She was in one of the red chairs. “Are you really interested in it?”

“I’ll let you know once I’ve read it.” She smiled and took the book from his hands. He laughed softly and sat in the chair next to her.

“Will you tell me what happened to your father?”

He instantly turned his horrified gaze to her. However, her eyes were fixed on the family portrait hanging above the fireplace. She knew that little child had to be him—he had the same shiny hair and eyes, so innocent and good. He was cradled in the arms of a woman, dignified but so pleasant to behold. She was beautiful, delicate, rosy-cheeked.

And towering over them was he. A tall, dark figure with red eyes, long nails, and pointed ears. He looked like a demon pulled from the depths of hell, but she wasn’t afraid of him. His expression was calm, filled with all the love he had for his family.

Adrian often spoke of his mother, always in the highest regard. In his stories, he portrayed Lisa as a lover of science and people, an idealist who, even in the last moments of her life, begged for mercy for her captors. Someone inspiring, loving, and compassionate.

He never spoke of his father. She didn’t even know his name, but she realized that it was a sensitive topic for him. A subject that was the source of his despair. She was sure that Adrian had witnessed much cruel death.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I killed him.”

Silence. Heavy, muffled, gripping his heart, stopping his breath. He shouldn’t trust her, shouldn’t open up to her so naively, shouldn’t expose himself to pain and suffering again.

She leaned forward in the chair, taking his cold, trembling hand in her warm, delicate one. He first looked at their intertwined hands and then into her eyes, where he saw no hatred or disgust. He saw compassion, which was also reflected in the gentle half-smile on her face.

***

When he lay alone in bed at night, without her cheerful personality, her sweet voice chattering in his ear, or the warm smiles she graced him with at every opportunity, he felt most keenly the impact she had on his life.

He loved making her happy, and she didn’t need much for that. He cherished the brief moments when their hands brushed while reaching for the same book, or when she deliberately intertwined her fingers with his while dreamily reminiscing about her late loved ones. He adored it when she complimented his long hair, sometimes absentmindedly running her fingers through it. He couldn’t shake the memories of the moments when she looked deep into his eyes, unable to stop talking about their peculiar color. He gladly took part in all the rituals that meant so much to her. He helped her gather the herbs she spoke of with such passion.

She had become his entire world. He fell asleep thinking only of her, and when he woke, she was the first thing he looked for. He longed to be close to her, to have her entirely for himself, forever, so no one could ever hurt her again or make her feel unwanted, out of place, or unnecessary. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold her as tightly as possible, and whisper sweet words of comfort in her ear so she could do the same for him. She was the one he waited for, the one he desired. The rest of the world could cease to exist if only she could stay by his side.

But winter was coming to an end, and she spoke more often of leaving. She stocked up supplies, transcribed passages from books, and generally kept herself busy. What else could he do but support her? So he gathered and transcribed alongside her, just to savor her presence for as long as possible.

"The snow is melting, and the days are getting longer," she remarked one evening as they sat down to dinner, as they had grown accustomed to doing. He only nodded slowly, not saying a word. He knew what her words meant. "I’m planning to leave at dawn."

The fork slipped from his hand, clattering loudly onto the plate. He knew she intended to leave, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

"Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow?"

"Would you prefer me to stay longer?"

"Yes."

His straightforwardness, so uncharacteristic of him, caught her off guard. She looked at him in surprise but was far from displeased. It was exactly the response she had hoped for—simple, giving her the reassurance that he wasn’t tired of her presence, but rather the opposite.

"If you leave, I’ll commit the greatest sin I can imagine – letting you disappear from my life."

[syrikif]

Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Written Elements, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Chapter 2 (a): Bedwars

Word Count: 2171

“Hey guys,” you smile at your webcam, “How’s everyone’s night been so far?” You adjust to get just a bit more comfortable, wrapping your favorite blanket around your legs as you observe their responses in chat. 

“Oh my god you had sushi for dinner? That sounds so good.” You lean forward to get a closer look, “Awe thank you. I tried so hard to do my makeup today,” you inform everyone when you see a compliment fly past. “It took me like four business days to finish my eyeliner,” you roll your eyes at the memory. 

You start humming softly as you read through chat, prompting everyone to start spamming for music and making you smile. “Okay okay, I get it guys I’ll put some music on.” 

You pull open Spotify, selecting one of your favorite non-copyrighted playlists, “Is that loud enough? Oh- too loud?” You turn it down by about twenty percent, “Is that better?”

You grin, letting yourself relax against the back of your chair. “I don’t really have a plan for the stream; I just wanted to kind of chat for a little bit, explain why I was in the hospital and stuff.” 

YOU WERE IN THE HOSPITAL????

You laugh when you see the message, realizing too late that you’d probably just dropped a bomb on everyone who doesn’t follow you on any of your other social media. “Oh yeah, sorry guys.” You suddenly snort, “Did someone just say I was in hospice for being dumb?” 

You shake your head subconsciously, “Even funnier though is that they’re kind of right.” 

You reach forward to grab the bottle of water resting on your desk, “Don’t worry it’s not anything serious. Like at all.” You pause to take a brief sip of the iced liquid, cringing at how cold it is when it enters your mouth. “Holy shit,” you shudder, “That was so fucking cold.” 

You take a deep breath to regain your composure.

“Anyways, so basically I fell and hit my head yesterday and my friends just wanted to take me to the hospital to make sure I didn’t get a concussion or anything. And then it turned out that I was actually - like - super dehydrated so they wanted to give me an IV drip to get some fluids in me.” You lift your water bottle pointedly, “Hence the new addition to the stream.” 

Normally you’d rarely ever have water during a stream, and if you did it was kept in a much smaller bottle. It’s different now though (your roommate made sure of that) since your current water bottle is big enough to cover your entire face if you were to hold it up. 

“But now I am a-okay and in perfect condition. Well, mostly anyways.” 

You spend some time just singing along to the music and responding to some of the messages you see in chat. You feel yourself relaxing as you talk with everyone, your tense shoulders loosening and your voice growing just a bit louder as you get more comfortable. 

You’re always nervous to stream at first, despite having done it hundreds of times by now. You don’t think you’ll ever not be nervous to be completely honest. It was such a surreal experience, to be able to be so closely connected with so many different people from so many different places, that you were terrified of ever losing it. 

“Oh my god you guys. So I made some pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips in them the other day and they are literally like the best thing I’ve probably ever baked in my life.” 

Better than your blended cookies?

You roll your eyes, “Oh ha ha; you guys act like you’ve tried it. I promise you all that it’s literally ten times better than it sounds. I’ll have to post the recipe at some point because I genuinely think a lot of you would love them.” 

I can attest to that ✋

“Sho,” you excitedly exclaim as you see your friend’s username. “You guys know Shoyo right?” You feel your head tilt, watching the varying responses flood your chat box. “Well if you don’t know who he is, he’s literally - like - famous for playing volleyball.” 

I love Hinata! I met him once and he was so nice.

You nod rapidly in agreement, “Yes! He’s seriously gotta be the nicest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Do you want to get on call with me?” You direct the question towards your close friend, subconsciously biting your lip as you await his answer. 

Still at practice unfortunately 🙁

You pout, “Oh no.” With a small sigh, “I just don’t know what to do now. You got any suggestions, chat?”

You read as many messages as you can, eyebrows furrowing further the longer you sit there. 

“I’m seeing a lot of minecraft; do we wanna play a bit of minecraft?” You hum in thought, swaying in your chair as you consider the idea. “How about Bedwars?”

Chat practically erupts at your words, capitalized letters and emotes flying by so fast that you don’t get any chance to read a single one. “Okay okay,” you laugh, “I get it.” 

You set your water bottle back down, adjusting your keyboard to sit properly before grabbing your mouse. “Let’s play some Bedwars I guess.” 

~~~

“Fuck you!” 

You groan as you release your mouse, throwing your head back in annoyance as you die yet once again. 

“How the fuck do I keep on dying? Literally what the fuck!” You chance a glance at your chat, hiding a smile at their reaction to your raging. You’ll admit it, while you are actually frustrated with the game, you’re definitely playing it up just a little bit for your audience. 

You don’t wait for the round to end after you die, leaving the game and immediately running to join another one. You’ve been playing in teams of three, hoping that having the extra assistance would help you stay alive longer. 

So far it’s proved to be completely futile. 

“We’re definitely gonna win this one you guys,” you say just as the round begins. “Me-,” you pause to look at your teammate’s usernames, “PinkyFluff_22 and Kodzuken are going to absolutely demolish everyone else.” 

What did she just sayyyyyyy 😳

I’m sorry you and WHO????

No way she’s playing with who I think she’s playing with

One in a million chance lol

Wtf

“What is everyone freaking out about?” You question as you patiently wait to collect some iron and gold, watching one of your teammates begin to cover the bed with a measly defense of red wool. “Kodzuken?”

You buy some wood and Endstone from the villager before purchasing a slightly better sword than the wooden one you were given. “Oh they stream?”

Girl 💀

How do you not know who he is?????

“Bro I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just work here okay.” 

You sprint over to the bed, breaking the wool to replace it with the Endstone, layering the wood on top, and then finally placing the wool around it again. “I guess I’ll be bed defense then,” you say as you notice that you’re the only person left on the island. 

“Oh shit someone’s coming!” You duck behind the giant cube of wool, watching the name tag get progressively closer to your island. You jump out as soon as you feel like they’re close enough, attacking the unaware oncomer and knocking them off the island within a few easy hits. 

“Fuck yeah!” You jump around excitedly, proud of the way your plan was actually successful this time. “See that? I told you I’m not bad!” 

You abruptly flinch as your character turns and comes face to face with another player. “Holy shit!” You release a sigh of relief as you realize it’s only your teammate, Kodzuken. “That scared me so bad. Oh my god,” you release your mouse briefly to place your hand on your chest. 

While you’re distracted trying to calm your heartbeat, Kodzuken suddenly stops before you. “What is he doing?” But before you even have time to be suspicious he suddenly drops a pile of diamonds and emeralds on the ground. 

You blink.

“Huh?” He looks pointedly at the gems then back up at you and back down, lightly tapping the block they’re floating on. “Is he giving them to me?” 

You glance over at your chat, your character finally going into motion when you realize they’re all screaming at you to go pick them up. “Jesus, sorry. I got them, see? Look, I’m picking them up right now.” 

You collect everything on the ground, crouching and un-crouching multiple times as a way to thank him. “Oh- shit,” you pause as a popup suddenly appears, “Stupid sticky keys!” 

By the time you manage to exit out of the window, Kodzuken is nowhere to be found. “Well,” you look at your webcam, “That was unexpected.” 

You quickly open game chat to send him a private message as fast as you possibly can. 

“Thanks :)”

It’s the best you can do with the little time you have but you hope he appreciates it nonetheless. 

“Okay, I’m gonna up our bed defense.” You repeat the earlier process all over again, only this time you add obsidian and make the outer layer made of wood. “Now that’s like literally impenetrable.” 

You upgrade your sword to a bow and arrows before purchasing some TNT and fireballs and buying the Miner’s Fatigue trap. “Now the real question is whether I try to attack the bases next to us or not.” 

Attackkkkkk

You’re gonna die

Kill them

We believe in you

“I guess it’s decided then,” you quickly shake out your hands. “Okay,” your voice fades as you run across the bridge you could only assume one of your teammate’s made. 

You’re extremely quiet as you make your way across, keeping your eyes on the island next to you and turning back every now and then to check on your own. You’re biting your lip as you slowly make your way across the rival team’s bridge, crouching the entire time to hide your name. 

You’re roughly twenty blocks away when you take the next step. Still crouching, you aim a fireball at their seemingly wool covered bed. “Yes!” You cheer as it makes its mark, blowing up the wool and revealing wood below it. 

You know that you’ve alerted the players at this point (there’s no way you haven’t) so all you can do is run into the fire. 

You’re panicking as you place some TNT around the bed, running away and into a player from the enemy team as it explodes. You use your mediocre sword to hit them away from you, mentally sighing as they get hit back enough for you to run away. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” you sprint towards the now revealed blue bed. 

“Blue Bed was destroyed by Soft_Paws!”

You squeal out of both fear and excitement, adrenaline racing through you as you’re attacked by two of the blue players at once. You throw a fireball at them, shouting for joy when one of them is successfully knocked off the island. 

“Holy shit!”

The next player is harder to kill, your health rapidly deteriorating as you battle with nothing but a stone sword and your adrenaline. 

You have one heart left when it finally happens.

“Ecstasy.png was killed by Soft_Paws”

“Yes!” You kick your feet out, jumping up from your chair with your excitement before remembering that you’re still in a game. “Holy fuck I did it. I actually did it, you guys!” 

She’s CRACKED

LETS GOOOO

WOOOOO

YEEEEESSSSSS

~~~

Roughly five minutes later, you’re still in the round. Everyone’s bed has been broken at this point but there are still three teams that are yet to be eliminated, yours included. 

You’re sort of just hiding at the base, watching the chaos from afar as your one and only teammate left (Kodzuken) goes on a murder spree. 

He’s running back to the team’s island when the incident occurs.

All you see is yellow leather armor and a yellow name tag, sprinting on the bridge connecting your base to the emerald island. You don’t even consider the fact that they’re currently being chased down by your teammate, you just aim. 

Your aim is exceptionally good, so good in fact that the explosion knocks off both the yellow player and Kodzuken. 

You freeze at the realization, your mouth falling open in complete horror as you piece together what you’d just done.

“I did not just do that,” you whisper, mostly to yourself as the events replay in your mind. “Oh my god,” you facepalm - forgetting (once again) that you’re still actually alive and participating in the game - and completely missing the person running towards you on the other bridge. 

You hear the sound of something being attacked, echoing through your headphones and making your eyebrows furrow with confusion. 

You abruptly gasp, but by then it’s too late. 

You’re dead. And your team has lost.

Taglist: @crazy-people-are-here, @existential-traveller, @peachesncats, @royalz658

Any names in bold are unable to be tagged.