#it looks like i recorded this on a piece of bread

[onmebackmush]

it's always “ben cook almost falling in seize the day” & never “iain young almost falling in kony”

[luvrrszn]

best part

NEIGHBOUR!RAFE CAMERON x FEM READER

summary you'd seen his life through his kitchen window for months. but you'd never thought you'd get to be a part of it.

warnings fluuuuuuuuffff

a/n heh heh heh guys i felt like a little girl writing in her pink diary with a lil fluffy pen when i wrote this...hehhhhhhhhh...pls send requests! not proofread

masterlist || freudian masterlist

"you're the coffee that i need in the morning

you're the sunshine in the rain when it's pouring"

—

you both come from the same tiny patch of the world—outer banks. but somehow, you'd both never really known each other.

sure, you'd heard of the notorious playboy kook-king rafe cameron, and he'd heard of the sweet pogue who smelled like butter and sugar, always baking cookies for everyone.

somehow, you'd never really met, not until now.

until you'd managed to scrounge up enough for a little place off-campus in your sleepy college town. a charming house from an old couple, one that needed just a little fixing up. but you decided it was worth it and took a leap of faith.

and your neighbour was who you'd least expected. rafe cameron, a familiar face from home. he lives next door, in a house too quiet for him, if hometown gossip was ever to be believed. him and his chipped porch swing, with the kind of quiet loneliness that didn't quite live up to his reputation.

—

you soon come to realise the layout of his house is exactly the same as yours, just flipped. so, when you stand at your kitchen sink, you look across the window to find him standing exactly there, at his own kitchen sink.

you'd opened the window a little to let the breeze in, and he'd done the same.

he was shirtless, washing dishes, soft jazz playing on the record player on his kitchen island. you remember this because you'd first thought of what an impractical placement it was.

this version of him seemed to be nothing like the stories you'd heard back home—the ones about parties, fights, arrests, and broken promises.

—

you see him most mornings and nights. sometimes, the both of you crack your kitchen windows just enough to hear each other's music, stolen glances exchanged over the sink.

after that, it becomes your thing.

swapping songs through open windows. sharing little pieces of yourselves one record at a time.

you get to pick the songs on mondays, wednesdays, fridays, and sundays. he gets to pick on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.

it was never meant to be anything, just a familiar face from home and some quiet background noise, but somehow, without meaning to, you've both slipped into a gentle rhythm.

slowly, your off-campus lives both become a little less lonely.

—

slowly, you both start doing your assignments at your own kitchen islands, facing each other and occasionally sneaking glances at each other. when you do make eye contact, he cracks a boyish grin, that makes you forget all the things you've ever heard about him.

how could you think about that version of him when you have this version of him right in front of you?

sometimes he leans against his sink, chatting with you through the open windows as you cook dinner. pasta, presumably, from what he could smell.

you both swap leftovers from dinners in mismatched tupperware containers.

he takes your trash bins from the porch to the driveway on trash collection days. when you send him a thank-you text, he just replies "was no trouble at all, pretty."

on sunday mornings, you bake banana bread and he makes the coffee. you both swap the treats through your kitchen windows.

his laughs bleed into your kitchen—becoming more familiar than any lyrics of any song. even your favourite one.

—

one night, he knocks on your front door with a record in hand. he smiles, "thought you'd like this one better in person."

you step aside to let him in, nervous. he's never been over before. you start to wonder if your living room is too messy, or if the place smells weird. (it doesn't. it smells like vanilla and cinnamon rolls.)

you clear a spot on the coffee table while he fiddles with the record player, familiar hands careful with the vinyl. the music starts—warm, crackly, old jazz—and he settles on the other end of the couch, beer in hand, body angled toward you like he’s not sure how close is too close.

you sit beside him, legs tucked under yourself, pretending to scroll your phone just to give your hands something to do. the song drapes over the room like a blanket, low and warm.

“you always play this one,” you say, half-smiling.

“it’s my favorite,” he shrugs. “makes the place feel less empty.”

you both go quiet.

eventually, he nudges your foot with his. just barely. you nudge back.

at some point, your head finds his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything—just shifts slightly so you’re more comfortable. his arm rests behind you on the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder, absent-minded and grounding.

you end up curled against him, the music looping gently in the background, your heartbeat slowing to the rhythm of his breathing. he smells like clean laundry and cedar and a hint of cologne that’s been worn in. the warmth of him seeps into your skin.

neither of you say it, but you both know: this wasn’t supposed to happen. but it was always going to.

—

after that night, everything shifts.

he’s different here. calmer. gentler. not at all like everyone back home said he was.

you realise he's more than just background noise. how could he be?

he makes tea when you’re stressed. sits with you through late-night study sessions. you steal his sweatshirt whenever he comes by and he pretends not to notice. he keeps your favourite drink stocked in his fridge—just in case. he replaces the broken bulb in your bathroom.

you watch the same show at the same time, in your separate homes, texting commentary like you’re on the same couch. sometimes you end up at his place by episode three.

—

eventually, the lines blur.

you both have the spare keys to each others' homes.

you wake up to the smell of pancakes, and you don't even question it when you come downstairs to see rafe shirtless at your stove.

—

and when you finally get together, it happens on a night like any other.

the record player hums between your homes, windows cracked open to let the spring air in. you’re both cooking—him with something sizzling in a pan, you with a box of pasta boiling over. you’ve been doing this for weeks now: parallel lives, quietly overlapping.

he texts: rafe: forgot basil. trade you a beer for some?

you chuckle and shout through your open window, “door’s open!”

a minute later, he steps into your kitchen barefoot, holding a half-full beer and looking too at home in that old hoodie you always see him in. “smells good in here.”

you shrug. “smells better next door.”

he doesn’t leave right away. instead, he sets his beer down, stirs your pasta like he’s done it a hundred times. “you ever think this is weird?” he asks suddenly, not looking at you.

you pause. “what?”

you know exactly what he means. you're just terrified that he'll say something like "let's stop doing this".

“this. us.” his voice is soft, careful. “we do all the things couples do, but we’re not...”

you stare at him. “you want us to be?”

he finally meets your eyes. “i already feel like i’m yours, every time i open my window and you’re there.”

your breath catches.

“and if i'm being stupid,” he adds, backing off, “just—”

you interrupt him with a kiss. hands still damp from the dishes, heart in your throat, you kiss him like you’ve been waiting for this.

later that night, you both sit on the couch tangled in a blanket, one record looping in the background. his hand finds yours under the fabric.

“so...” you say, trying to be casual. “what do we tell the neighbors?”

he smirks. “let ‘em guess. they already think we’re married. last week, mrs mcclusky said 'living in two houses ain't gonna be good for the kids'."

[hummingbird24220]

May I request something with sanjis nosebleeds, like maybe this is the first time reader has seen it and they start freaking out about it?

I love your writing, looking forward to more neko reader <3

Hello! Yes yes YES! I love my silly little bleedy boy.

Enjoy!

---

Code Red

One Piece x Reader (Slight Sanji x Reader Fluff)

You were just minding your business.

That business, of course, involved walking into the kitchen in your pajama shorts and a tank top, your hair still messy from sleep and your eyes only half open. You’d followed the smell of eggs and toast like a zombie chasing brains.

“Morning,” you mumbled, flopping into a chair and giving a lazy wave to Sanji.

“G-G-G-GOOOOD MORNING, Y/N-SWAAAN!!”

You blinked.

Why did he say your name like it was laced with glitter and holy light?

You tilted your head, just as Sanji spun in place like a broken record and launched backwards into the counter, hands pressed to his face.

“SANJI?!”

You leapt to your feet as he crumpled to the floor in a dramatic swirl of limbs and smoke from his cigarette.

“WHAT HAPPENED?! Are you dying?! Oh my god, is that—ARE YOU BLEEDING?!”

There was so much blood. It was pouring from his nose in a steady, terrifying stream, pooling around his head like a crime scene. You dropped to your knees beside him, hands hovering above his chest, unsure if CPR or last rites were more appropriate.

“ZORO!! CHOPPER!! SOMEBODY HELP, SANJI’S BLEEDING OUT!! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID!”

Sanji reached a weak, trembling hand toward your face.

“…So beautiful…”

You stared at him in horror.

“DID I GIVE YOU A STROKE?!”

Zoro appeared in the doorway with a slice of bread hanging from his mouth and looked down at the scene like it was just another Tuesday.

“Oh. He saw your thighs, huh?”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

Chopper zoomed in like a tiny siren, throwing a little doctor bag at the floor as he knelt beside Sanji.

“He’s not dying,” the reindeer doctor said nonchalantly, pressing a tissue to Sanji’s geyser of a nose. “That’s just how his brain works. Or doesn’t.”

You looked between them, wild-eyed. “This is NORMAL?!”

Sanji let out a dreamy sigh. “If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right…”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “He does that whenever a hot girl breathes in his direction. You’re not special.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered.

“I MEANT—” Zoro blinked. “Wait. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sanji reached for your hand. You panicked and handed him a napkin instead.

“Please stop bleeding. That’s… not a normal bodily response to… anything,” you said, staring down at him. “Does your brain bleed next? Does it travel? Is it contagious?!”

“It’s just love, sweetheart,” Sanji murmured, a rose somehow materializing in his other hand.

You smacked his face with a cold wet cloth.

Later…

You sat on the deck with Nami, still traumatized.

“He launched himself,” you muttered. “Like a rocket. Nose first.”

Nami sipped her drink. “Yeah, he does that.”

“Does he ever pass out from blood loss?!”

“…A few times.”

You stared at the sky.

“This ship is insane.”

Nami smiled. “Welcome aboard.”

--

Sanji had made a decision.

It was simple: no more nosebleeds.

You were clearly traumatized by the last one (the word “blood geyser” had come up more than once), and he couldn’t risk scaring you off again. He was suave. He was composed. He was… currently stuffing tissues up his nose just in case.

Meanwhile, you?

You’d gone from confused to curious to chaotic in less than 24 hours.

“I just don’t get it,” you said sweetly the next morning, leaning across the counter with your chin resting in your hands, voice all innocent. “Is it, like, only when I show skin, or is it just general hotness?”

Sanji’s hand cracked the egg he was holding clean in half. Not the shell. The entire egg.

You tilted your head, watching him.

“Because I was thinking of trying on that outfit Nami picked out for me. You know, the one with the—”

BOOM.

Sanji launched himself upward, hit the ceiling, and then crashed back down into a chair, clutching his nose.

“DAMMIT—! I mean, I-I’m fine. Totally fine. That wasn’t blood, it was… tomato sauce. I’m prepping for dinner early. Yes.”

You raised a brow.

“…You’re making breakfast.”

“…Double meal plan.”

You leaned closer, the picture of fake concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking kinda pink. Maybe you’ve got a fever?” You placed the back of your hand dramatically against his forehead.

His soul left his body.

You leaned closer.

He bled anyway.

“…DAMMIT.”

LATER THAT DAY

“I’m starting to think you like this,” you told him, poking your fork at a piece of fish on your plate while he sat across from you, hunched over and very much trying to maintain his cool.

Sanji dabbed at his nose with a napkin that was starting to look like it had been used in open-heart surgery.

“I’m a gentleman,” he said nobly, holding a second napkin under the first. “I would never—”

You slowly, very deliberately, stretched in your chair. Just enough to show the barest sliver of your waist.

His eye twitched.

“…You’re evil,” he choked out, tilting his head back so gravity could save his dignity. “You are chaos in human form. A temptress. A siren. A—snrrrk!—DAMMIT!”

He slammed his head on the table. Again.

Zoro passed by and muttered, “Hasn’t bled out yet? Disappointing.”

You offered Sanji your glass of water with a wicked grin.

“Hydrate, babe. You’re leaking again.”

BONUS: Luffy, watching this whole thing unfold, just says:

“Whoa. Are you trying to kill Sanji?”

“…Honestly?” you smirk, “Little bit.”

[notthecutesttrash]

Mascara and Tears

Content: You’ve escaped him before, and this time you’ve made a life for yourself. You decide one day to go out with another man and risk him finding you.

Warnings: 18+ Dark bloodlust Gojo, kidnapping, death, blood, implied noncon, yandere stuff you know.

Word Count: 2.5k

It’s been months after the first escape attempt. 

Gojo had been on a mission and left his door barely locked, it was enough for you to devise a plan to make a run for it. 

You were caught in half an hour. 

It’s been weeks after your second. 

You managed to drug him when he least expected it, leaving you to escape as quietly as possible. 

This time, you left no trace. This time, you’d be happy.

You’ve studied him well enough to know that he was capable of finding you. But he hasn’t, so you know you’ve done a good job. Still, you find yourself terrified even in the cold nights. Occasionally you’re overcome by fear and restlessness as paranoia surges through your mind. 

You’re angrily pressing your fingers into dough before your coworker Andy pats your back and saves you from the contemplation. “Treat the dough with a little respect (Y/n), it’s your friend, not an enemy,” he jokes and you force a small chuckle. 

“Sorry, just got too into it.” 

He laughs in response and begins to knead at one of his pieces. “I get it, sometimes it’s fun to play with and throw around. You can make some pizzas, bread, or sweets. You can do anything with dough, and that’s the beauty." He’s nearly beaming at you, and you're stifling a chortle, breaking out with a “nerd.” 

“Hey!” He points accusingly and you snicker. 

When a comfy silence erupts and you’re both drawn into your work, after a few minutes, Andy clears his throat. “So, (Y/n).”

You turn to him, and there’s a small blush on his cheeks. Your heart drops a little, and you’re begging silently. Please don’t say it.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks after this shift?” 

He said it. 

Inwardly sighing, you squint your eyes as if lost in thought and he stammers. “I mean, I know you always have a busy schedule, but I just thought- I don’t know, it’d be nice to get your mind away from things for a change. You always look so tense.” 

No matter how many times he or your other coworkers would ask, you were always busy. One day your sister had to be picked up, you had to run to the hospital, or your dog needed walking. Meanwhile, in reality, you’d sit at home and cradle yourself in fear. Sure that the one moment you're caught off guard, you'd find Gojo sitting quietly in your room with the lights off, ready to take you just like the last time.

Humming in response, you agree, you are always tense. 

Maybe just one day of going out would do you good. He wasn’t bound to find you just from a chat at the bar right? There’s only so much sitting and moping around in lonely shivers that you can partake in.

Besides, if you’re actually free now, you can finally have friends. People to make you happy, to have conversations with, and to freely walk around with wherever you want. Rather than just being kept in a locked room that was no bigger than a dozen feet across. 

Maybe if he finds you again, you’d at least be happy with just having this bit of freedom. 

Shaking yourself out of the thoughts, your brows knit together angrily. You’re not going to let that happen. 

Turning to Andy, you give him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, that’d be fine.” He gasps and practically bounces in the joy that he attempts to so poorly conceal. 

He works with the dough a little less focused now as the grin stays glued to his face. “Awesome, so there’s this place around town that just opened up, heard it’s fancy though, don’t know if you want to go there.” 

You shrug. Truthfully because you never went anywhere or did anything you had a bit of spare money saved up. You didn’t mind splurging for today.

But what if Gojo finds your records? What if somehow has your bank account information? Or finds you had gone there with another man? 

“(Y/n)?” Andy calls out when you don’t answer.

“No no,  I don’t mind, sounds great. But don’t know if we’re really well equipped for that after work.” Gesturing to your clothes filled with baking powder, Andy glances to his own and shares a laugh. 

“You’re right.” A blush scatters to his face again and you’re exhaling a small sigh. 

“I guess I can pick you up after..?” He trails off expectantly, his hand brushing against his neck as he timidly averts away. If only Gojo hadn’t ever been involved, then you’d think about having a possible romance.

“Sure.” 

You press your hands into the substance for what feels like hours until your wrist feels like it’s going to fall off. And when you go home, you’re holding your breath, a stammering in your chest as you walk through the door. Your first instinct is to always immediately click the lights and when you'd notice nothing, you'll slump in great relief. 

You refuse to allow the thoughts of this kidnapper to ruin your day out. You’re free now, that’s all there is to it, and you dress yourself up real pretty to prove that. Even having the liberty to apply makeup which you’ve never done for Gojo. 

Not even if he tortured you and rubbed the bottom of your lip, declaring just how pretty you’d be if they were stained red just for him to ruin. Even if he forced you on your knees and implied just how much he’d love it if he could see the mascara rolling down your cheeks while you cried. 

This time, you were going to be beautiful to no one else's enjoyment but yourself.

Andy had been patiently waiting and when you stepped out his heart sped into his throat. You smile at him and his skin burns red. 

“Now I almost feel a little underdressed,” he mumbles awkwardly glancing down at his attire. 

“Don’t worry, you look fine. Anything’s better than the baking powder.” Sharing a giggle, you two begin walking, the clack of your heels echoing against the sidewalk.

Andy is continuously glimpsing to you, then at the ground. His bottom lip draws into his mouth. “You look.. amazing by the way,” he finally breaks the silence, and you turn to him, gleaming.  

“Thanks.”

He gazes at you too long, gawking in amazement, and you lightly poke him out of the concentration. “Relax, I’m not that good-looking.” You joke, and he instantly shakes his head. 

“That’s not true (Y/n), seriously, you are.. you’re beautiful.” 

It's been awhile since you had a genuine compliment that wasn't so creepy sounding.

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the twinkling in his orbs. But this time you’re flattered and a light pink forms.

“Thanks.. I don’t typically get pretty for events or anything… I don’t really go out in general.” 

“Why not?” He’s quick to ask, brows knitting in worry. 

You cuss beneath your breath. Too much oversharing. Not talking to a person in a while will do that to you.

“Nothing- I just don’t like to. More of an.. inside person I guess.” Your eyes avoid his peering and he breaks out into a small smile. 

“I get it, my sis is like that, introvert right?”

You nod. That wasn’t remotely the reason, but you'll let him think that.

“I’m a bit of both, you know, I like talking but not too much. Sometimes it can be draining, sometimes it can be-“

“This isn’t going to be like your rambles about dough is it?” You cut him off jokingly and he shyly averts. 

“No no- sorry.. I have a tendency to talk too much.” Andy grazes his arm awkwardly, and you feel him distance himself a little. Perhaps that was a bit mean. 

You try to ease the heaviness in the atmosphere. “I like hearing your rambling. I was just being sarcastic, don't worry. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to joke like that,” you admit, and you notice him visibly relax. 

“That’s okay.” He beams and you mimic the expression.

When you reach the bar you’re in a nice little section by yourselves, and you’re surrounded by comfortable lighting, modern decorations, leather brown chairs, and relaxed people doing their own things.

It was amazing. 

“You act like you haven’t seen people in years,” Andy chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink. 

An evident frown shifts your expresion and he notices. His hand carefully touches your wrist and you shift to him.

“Sorry, did I offend?” 

Shaking your head, you force a small smile and declare an excuse. Whether it be along the lines of “just tired,” “lost in thought,” or anything else, it was all the same. The truth was too horrid even for you to bear. Seriously, how unlucky did you have to be for that?

There was only so much you could do for yourself. You’re ecstatic you managed to escape. You have a life now. You can see all these people, revel in the laughter, maybe even fall in love and have children. Though, maybe you were getting too ahead of yourself.

You made sure not to get drunk. When you walked home that was always the scariest part of the day. Whether it be at night, or in the morning, it didn’t make too much of a difference. A dangerous fear you have is walking pass a certain tall figure with white hair.

Though he’d more likely take the scarier approach. Stealthy. Watching you from the shadows and contemplating when he’d take you. You wondered many times if this was the case already. Perhaps he is just toying with your freedom. 

Repeatedly you force away from the anxieties. You can’t think so negatively. You have a life now. It’s already been a few weeks. You bested him whether he liked it or not. You won. 

Andy fortunately isn’t too drunk either, maybe a bit tipsy, but nothing unsafe. Man or not, having another person beside you made you feel comfortable. Even if Gojo was watching, he or any rational person isn’t likely to just snatch a person when they’re with another. It’s just too suspicious. No one can risk that. 

“Are you okay? You look scared,” Andy asks, and you fake a tug at your lips, a pouring discomfort in you. 

“I’m okay, it’s just the night can be a little creepy you know." You quickly reason.

Andy purses his lips, pondering a moment before draping his arm over your shoulder. Surprise rushes to you, a swarm of butterflies swooning at the gesture. He was warm, and his grip unlike Gojo’s was gentle. It was like you’d break if he held you any harder. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” He speaks with a determined but sweet tone and you giggle, leaning into his touch. 

“How sweet.” A mocking voice behind your form makes you stop dead in your tracks, eyes going wide. 

“(Y/n)?” Andy turns when you aren’t keeping up with him, and you’re frozen, still as a plank of wood. His eyes blink up at the cause, surely meeting your worst nightmare. 

You're terrified, but instinctively you whirl around, tears brewing in your eyes as you shout, “Don’t hurt him!” 

Gojo’s blue orbs are shining down at you, and he’s smiling wide.

“Oh?” He muses, raising his brow as he walks over to you. Every step he made caused you to flinch in place, and your hands were shaking as he rounded closer.

Suddenly his lips press to your ears and he whispers, “Should’ve thought about that before you ran off and made new friends.” 

Instinctively, Andy rushes to shove him away and Gojo holds out his hand, forcing him to stop in place. He grins, and you step back, fixating on those eyes you dreaded so much. “Don’t..” you plead.

Snickering, he strolls to Andy whose almost frozen, and he casually observes his features with a dark gaze. “Hm, I at least expected you to pursue someone better.” 

You open your mouth to speak, and blood splatters over you, gushing atop your pretty makeup. Your throat is unable to let out a blaring scream, instead your shaky hands move to your vision. Red. Red liquid splotched against your fingers, staining your skin. 

Gojo lets out a tired exhale, and he starts caressing your hair in the way you hate so much. The way he’d pet you without an ounce of care once he'd finish giving you a punishment or would cause you to heave out with sobs.

He's scanning you for a second until he moves and you instinctively shift back. Repeating, you step and something big crunches beneath your heel, causing you to fall back.

Finally, the scream escapes, and you’re rushing to crawl away from the horror. Blood is decorating the ground, the walls, the trash that lays around, everything, anywhere but on him. Gojo is sauntering, and there's a grin spreading his features wide.

Your desperate movement leads to no avail when your back hits a wall and Gojo eventually crouches down to you.

“Get away from me!” You shout as Gojo tugs your hair forcefully back.

His blue orbs glower at you. “Huh?” His grip tightens, and you whine from the pain searing in your scalp. “What was that?” He tugs harder and you scream.

Tears start to cascade, and you plead desperately. “Please d-don’t take me back.” The force pulling your locks lessens, and he stoically observes the scene.

You’re hiccuping through your sobs as you keep going, “P-Please… I don’t want to go back, I’ll do a-anything, p-please don’t take me there, please.” 

A grin finally breaks out as he speaks, “Now, where’s the fun in that?” He evilly snickers in a way that has you crying more. Even if you know pleading with him will do nothing, you’re desperate.

But it’ll only further amuse him.

“I don’t want t-to go." You’re whining pathetically, and he exhales a disappointed sigh as he ignores you to study the mascara falling in streams at your cheeks. 

“Man, what a waste,” he mutters to himself then presses a hand to his chin, tilting his head as he loses himself in thought.

“I’m surprised you even managed to avoid me for a whole month, I’m almost impressed.” His view is fixated on the sky as he continues. 

“Looks like the first punishment wasn’t enough. So hm, what am I going to do now?” He fakes a curiosity while a glimmer shines in his eyes. He knows, and so do you, and you’re sniveling through the choke in your throat at the thought. 

“I was gonna be all nice to you too. Even when you don’t deserve it,” he sighs. “I was gonna take you back home, have a sweet dinner date since it’s been so long, but.. since you decided to get all pretty for that guy there,” he motions to the corpse behind him, then zones in on you.

“I’ll have a bit of fun with you first.” 

You’re exploding into a fit of panicked tears, desperate begs falling from your lips. “P-Please don’t do this.” 

“Aw,” He mockingly coos, wiping a few tears from your eyes. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll love it.” 

·:*:· ★ ·:*:· ·:*:· ★ ·:*:·　 

A quick sketch for my girls out there.

[cheshireliam]

"The Daily Records: Ring Schwartz & Ellis Twilight" Party Event: Chapter 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

contains spoilers for ellis' route!

On a peaceful, sunny day, Ellis and Ring were having lunch together.

They went to a calm and cozy café Ellis often visited with Kate and Harrison. 

Ellis: What do you want to order? 

Ring: There’s so many options on the menu��� 

Ellis: Take your time to pick. But if you can't decide, how about we go with my recommendations? 

Ring: Having you choose something for me… kind of reminds me of my older brother.

Ellis: Nica’s your older twin, right? 

Ring: Yeah. Nica’s strong, smart, and reliable… although we were born on the same day and in the same way, we’re completely different. 

Ring: I want to be strong too, but I just can’t be like Nica…

Ring: … Sorry. I’m talking too much about myself. 

Ellis: It’s okay. I like listening to people talk. 

Ring: Really…? Ah, but, that won't do! 

Ring: Because I’m here today to get to know you… 

Ellis: Fufu, that’s true. My bad. 

Ring: Umm, do you have any siblings? 

Ellis: I… had a twin older brother. 

Ring: “Had”... 

Ring let out a small gasp at Ellis' use of past tense.

Ellis: He’s already passed away. … Sorry, it’s a heavy topic. 

Ring: No… I should be sorry for asking a personal question. 

Ellis: Don’t mind it. Will you… tell me about you and Nica? I’d love to listen to your stories. 

Ring: … You’re a good person. 

Despite having touched on such a sensitive topic, Ellis maintained his gentle smile, earning him extra points in Ring’s heart. 

After a short while, their food was served. 

Ellis had a croissant sandwich, while Ring had a hearty sandwich recommended by Ellis. 

Ring: Mm… delicious! I’m glad I went with your recommendation! 

Ring: … If only Nica could try this too.

Ellis: They do takeaways, so you can order some to take back to him later. 

Ring: I’ll do that! 

Ellis: Fufu, you really love Nica so much.

Ring: Yeah. And… I got reminded of when we were kids.

Ellis: Your childhood…?

Ring: Back then, there were times we barely had anything to eat. 

Ring: The adults were always watching us… like they wanted to see what would happen if they denied us food. 

Ring: They'd sometimes give us a lot of food… but most of the time, they didn't. 

Ring: All we’d get for a whole day was a single tiny piece of bread. During that time, Nica and I were always starving. 

Ellis: It must've been so awful… not having enough to eat.

Ring: Yeah. But… even when times were that bad, Nica was always strong and kind. 

Ring: When I was so hungry I couldn't move, he’d tear a piece off his bread to share it with me. 

Ring: I refused every single time, saying it was his share, but there was once when I couldn't hold out any longer and ate it. 

Ring: Looking back now… that bread had the kindest taste in the entire world. 

Ring: Do you also have a specific taste that brings back memories? 

Ellis: For me… it’s the bread I used to eat with my brother. 

Ellis: We ran around a lot and played until we were exhausted, and we’d have bread with jam as a snack afterwards…

Ellis: My brother found it a hassle to spread jam with a spoon, so he’d press our two slices of bread together to spread the jam on both slices at the same time. 

Ellis: It wasn’t proper behaviour, so we couldn’t do that in front of our parents… but the bread we used to eat together like that was the most delicious. 

Ellis: Knowing I’ll never get to eat it again… I guess that makes me miss it even more. 

Watching Ellis share his story with a lonely look… Ring reached out his hand with resolve. 

With awkward movements, Ring started gently patting Ellis’ head. 

Ellis: … Ring? 

Ring: When we were kids, Nica used to pat my head like this whenever I was feeling down. So…

Ellis: You’re trying to comfort me. … Thanks, Ring. 

Ellis’ soft smile made Ring feel a little embarrassed and quickly pulled his hand away… 

To hide his embarrassment, Ring ordered another sandwich and tried his best to focus on eating. 

Meanwhile, Ellis sipped his tea and let his eyes wander to the people passing by.

Ellis: Hm? Isn’t that…? 

His face lit up when he saw Kate’s familiar figure in the crowd. 

Kate: Ellis? And… Ring? 

Kate noticed them too and made her way to their table. 

Kate: What a coincidence, meeting you two here. 

Ring: Why are you here, Robin?

Kate: Someone fell ill suddenly and we’re short on manpower, so I’m helping to carry groceries for the maids. 

Kate: Anyway… it’s rare to see the two of you eating together.

They had dined together with the rest of Crown before, but it was indeed the first time Ellis and Ring went out to eat alone. 

Ellis: Fufu… we surprisingly have a lot in common. 

Ellis: We’re both the younger twin, often work as bodyguards, and we both love food. 

Ellis: So we had lots of things to talk about. 

Ring: If we keep looking, we might find even more things we share in common. 

Ellis: Fufu, maybe. 

Kate: You two do seem like you’ll be great friends. 

Kate: Ah… I must hurry or the eggs will be sold out! I’ll see you later! 

Ellis and Ring watched silently as Kate hurried off and disappeared down the street. 

Ellis: … It’s about time. Shall we head back too? 

…

Ellis: Thanks for the great time today. I’d like to have lunch with you again sometime.

Ring: Me too… I want to hear more stories about the tough opponents you’ve encountered, and how Jude took them down. 

Ellis: Fufu, you were okay with hearing about those even though some were quite gory. I’ll tell you anything you want to hear if it makes you happy. 

Ellis: Well then… when shall we do this again?

Ring: Eh? You weren’t saying that just to be polite? 

Ellis: You looked so happy eating that sandwich… it made me want to let you try more delicious food and make you happier. 

Ring: You really are a nice person. … I’ll contact you when I’m free. 

Ellis: Okay. I’ll be waiting. 

The two said their goodbyes. In their exchange, there was a faint trace of a budding friendship. 

Just then, two figures approached them—. 

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTIKTOK TRENDS⁴ * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　4 times that Y/N and Chris made a couple's trend on tiktok.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²　::　part 1 || part 2 || part 3

1. Watch my boyfriend for me

It was a balmy summer night, and the city lights glistened off the glass walls of the charming Italian restaurant where Y/N and Chris were dining. The restaurant's facade exuded rustic elegance, adorned with hanging green plants and softly twinkling string lights that created a warm, romantic atmosphere.

Y/N had come to the restaurant with a playful plan in mind. She had seen a viral TikTok trend where people left their partners alone at the table with a recording camera, asking viewers to "watch" them while they went to do "something." It seemed like the perfect opportunity to have some fun with Chris.

While they enjoyed their meal, Y/N discreetly took her phone from its spot on the table. Unlocking it, she quickly opened the TikTok app, which was prominently displayed among her most used apps. With a mischievous grin, she hit the record button.

Her eyes flicked to Chris, who was engrossed in his pasta, before she propped her phone against a glass Coca-Cola bottle, adjusting the angle to frame him perfectly.

"Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend real quick while I go to the bathroom?" Y/N said in a low tone, trying to suppress a giggle as she stood up and headed towards the bathroom, not glancing back at the bewildered Chris.

Chris, mid-chew on a hefty forkful of pasta, looked up, watching her walk away with a puzzled expression. He then shifted his gaze to the phone screen, his brow furrowing.

He delicately set his cutlery down, adjusting his black cap in a nervous gesture.

"Hey guys... I think Y/N is making some kind of video." He muttered after swallowing his food, resting his right elbow on the wooden surface of the square table and laying his chin on his palm, his blue eyes fixed on the screen. "Caught me with my mouth full, sorry about that."

Chris glanced around the restaurant, a hint of nervousness replaced by curiosity.

"So, since you're here, let me tell you what we're up to. We're at this new Italian place in Los Angeles. The decor here is amazing, really cozy and authentic." He gestured with his free hand, indicating the charming details around him that the camera couldn't capture. "We had bruschetta to start... Did you know it was originally a way to use up old bread? They toast it, rub garlic on it, and top it with tomato and basil... Delicious."

His eyes lit up as he described one of his favorite appetizers.

"Now, about the main dishes, since it's Saturday night, we figured we could indulge a bit." He continued with a chuckle. "Y/N ordered lasagna. Classic choice, right? Pasta, meat, tomato sauce, cheese... You can't go wrong." He pointed to Y/N's plate, observing momentarily the remaining piece of lasagna. "I got the carbonara, one of my all-time favorites. Loads of bacon, so good."

Chris picked up his fork, filling it with the food from his plate and twirling some carbonara for the camera to see.

"I've had a tradition on Saturdays of taking Y/N out to dinner since the beginning of our relationship, and there's something special about going out to dinner in a new place, you know?" Chris commented warmly. "It's a little gastronomic adventure. Oh, and the music! They're playing something in Italian."

He paused, pointing his fingers upwards, letting the camera pick up the soft, melodic tunes playing in the background. He began to sway his head to the rhythm, clearly enjoying himself.

"Cool, right? Also, we always order different dishes so we can share and try more things." He added, laughing. "Though I usually end up eating half of Y/N's, and she always gets mad at me for it." His eyes sparkled with affection as he spoke about her, shaking his hear jokingly. "Talking about her, her food's going to get cold if she takes much longer."

He lowered his head, frowning as he looked between his plate and hers, refusing to eat until she returned.

"She just said she was going to the bathroom and left you with me. Not sure what she's up to." He shrugged, eyes darting back to the screen. "But tell me a little about yourselves..."

He pretended to listen to the viewers' imaginary responses, nodding thoughtfully.

"I think this is a TikTok trend. Y/N's been obsessed with these lately." Chris said, changing the "topic" abruptly, rolling his eyes playfully.

Just then, Y/N returned to the table, quickly grabbing her phone and trying not to laugh at Chris's expression.

"Thanks, guys. I hope he behaved." She said happily, smiling and waving at the camera.

"Hey, I'm the best boy around, alright?" Chris retorted, grinning widely.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. Serving myself a little bit of food and telling my boyfriend that's all we have left

The house was a haven of quiet on that early afternoon. With Nick and Matt away on business for their channel, set to last all day, Y/N and Chris found themselves with a rare stretch of time alone. Deciding against the hassle of preparing a new meal, they settled on enjoying the leftovers from the previous day's lunch.

"I'm going to put the dishes together, honey." Y/N called, already making her way to the door of their shared bedroom after hearing Chris’s stomach rumble in protest as they watched a random and new action movie.

"Alright, I'll be there in a few." Chris responded, not taking his eyes off the screen, where a heated scene of racing cars and guns shooting occurred, his hands reaching blindly for the remote on the bedside table.

With Chris still in the bedroom, Y/N seized the opportunity to record a new TikTok trend that had been flooding her For You Page in the last few days. She fished her phone out of the front pocket of her Fresh Love hoodie, positioning it strategically on the wooden surface of the dining table to capture both the plates and Chris’s reaction, as well as her own figure. Her fingers worked quickly to unlock the device, find the app, and start recording, lowering the screen brightness to its minimum.

While waiting for Chris, Y/N prepared two plates: Chris's, as usual, was generous, laden with a large portion of each meal item. For herself, she placed just a few spoonfuls of each, creating a stark contrast between the two.

When Chris finally appeared in the kitchen, he moved with a relaxed grace to his usual chair, his stomach growling in the quiet of the room, sitting down.

"Finally!" He exclaimed, rubbing his palms together in excitement as he watched Y/N place the plates on the table and sit down beside him. "I was so-" His sentence cut off abruptly as he noticed the disparity in the amount of food on their plates. His brow furrowed as his eyes darted between the two servings.

"I hope it's still good." Y/N said with a small smile, lifting her right arm to reach for her cutlery, her fingers closing around her fork.

"No, wait." Chris stopped her, raising his hand to hover over her plate, his concern evident. "What?"

Feigning confusion, Y/N put down her fork and looked up at him, frowning.

"What what?"

"Weren't you starving?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with worry as he looked her over, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort.

"No, babe, I'm not that hungry." Y/N shook her head, offering a reassuring smile.

"Are you feeling sick?" Chris's concern deepened, his blue eyes scanning her figure anxiously.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." Y/N insisted, her tone light.

"Babe, this isn't normal." Chris pointed to her plate. "Even on days when you have no appetite, you don't eat this little."

"I need to reduce the amount of food I eat." She invented, using the first excuse that her brain could think of.

"Tell the truth, Y/N. Do you want to go to the hospital?” Chris's worry was palpable as he prepared to stand, but Y/N quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping his next movements.

"Why, Chris? I told you, I'm fine-"

"Then why did you put so little food on your plate?" Chris interrupted, his concern mounting.

"Babe, we just... It's because that was all that was left from yesterday. We ran out of food." Y/N finally revealed, looking down in false shame.

"What do you mean? Is the food gone?" Chris's disbelief was clear. Despite his bigger appetite, he would never allow his girlfriend to go without. "Baby, stop it. Are you crazy? I'm not going to eat all this while you have so little just because our food runs out."

He stood up abruptly, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor echoing sharply in the quiet room. His large hands moved quickly to switch their plates, placing the larger serving in front of Y/N.

"No, Chris! That's all that's left, really! I want you to eat what I gave you." Y/N protested, curving her spine above the wooden surface, her hands hovering in the air.

"Babe, you're hungrier than me. I already ate, you didn't." Chris lied, sitting down again, receiving a surprised look from Y/N. She knew he hadn't eaten anything, just like her.

"What did you eat?" She asked, genuinely confused.

"I had one of those Bold protein bars you always eat." Chris claimed, pointing towards the cabinet above the sink behind his back.

"But, there's no more bar-"

"Of course there is, or was, I ate the last one." Chris interrupted, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Babe..." Y/N's heart warmed, her eyes softening. "Let's split it then, okay?"

"No, petal, I want you to eat all of this." He insisted, pointing at the plate that was once his. "How did all the food even run out?"

"I needed to go to the grocery store today, but I wanted to spend the day with you." Y/N explained, her tone tender, her bottom lip jutting out in a little pout.

"It doesn't matter, babe. Just because the food is gone doesn't mean you should eat this little. It looks like bird food." Chris's voice rose with worry, his hands moving to adjust his cap nervously.

"It's no problem, honey, I promise." Y/N argued, moving to switch the plates again, but Chris stopped her.

"Babe, wait, no! Let's go out? Let's go out to eat, hm? Where do you want to go?" Chris's desperation was clear, his blue eyes searching hers. "Let's go out, like a date, yeah?"

Y/N's features brightened instantly, a smile spreading across her lips as small drops of tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, her heart fluttering inside her chest, feeling like she was falling in love all over again.

"A date, babe?" Her voice sounded airy.

"That's right, let's go out for lunch somewhere special. You choose the place and the food, okay?" Chris asked softly, watching her closely, pushing the plate of food in front of him away.

"Yeah." Y/N looked down, her cheeks heating up with a rosy blush.

"Great, I'll get my wallet," Chris said, rising from his seat calmly this time, curving his upper body so that his face was close to her head, sealing the top of it with his lips momentarily, exhaling the soft smell of shampoo. "You heard me?"

"Yes, okay," Y/N nodded quickly, sniffling softly, observing her boy step away. "I love you."

"I love you more, bunny. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Testing my boyfriend if he was an Uber driver

Chris adjusted himself in the leather driver's seat, trying to keep a straight face. His eyes flicked towards Y/N’s phone, checking if it was recording him. A few seconds later, the sound of the back door opening echoed inside the vehicle, and Y/N appeared, sliding into the seat where Nick usually sat during their car videos. She did her best to look like a complete stranger.

"Good afternoon! Are you Chris from Uber?" she asked, adopting a foreign accent. Her head lifted, catching Chris's upper body twisted towards the back seat, his eyes fixed on her. "Why are you looking back like that, Chris?" Y/N yelled, playfully smacking the back of the driver’s seat.

"But I was just-"

༻

"Hey!" Y/N’s voice cut through the brief silence, settling back into the leather seat with a dramatic sigh.

"Good afternoon! Would you like some candy or gum?" Chris greeted, taking his right hand off the steering wheel and reaching towards the car’s console. He pulled out a small box of mints from the cup holder, lifting it up with a flourish.

"Why are you offering candy to the girl, Christopher?" Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes darting from the box to Chris's face and back again before she rolled her eyes and turned around, pretending to get out of the car.

"Sometimes people have bad breath, babe-"

༻

"Hi! Good afternoon. How are you?" Y/N chirped as she got into the car again, a broad smile lighting up her face.

She adjusted herself in the seat, but as she did, her head bumped against the roof of the car.

"Ouch! I hit my head." She burst into laughter, her right hand instinctively reaching up to rub the sore spot, her eyes closed as giggles escaped her lips.

Chris quickly turned back, his eyes wide with concern and amusement. His lips trembled as he tried to suppress his laughter.

"Do you want me to take care of you, miss-" His sentence was cut short by a loud slap, Y/N's free hand playfully hitting his shoulder. "Ouch! Sorry!"

༻

"Hey, good afternoon!" Chris began this time, his eyes fixed on the garage door in front of the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, swallowing hard.

"Hi, how are you?" Y/N adjusted herself in the seat, leaning forward so that she was perched on the edge. She leaned her upper body against the back of the driver’s seat, raising her right arm and resting her hand lightly on Chris’s shoulder, giving it a sensual squeeze.

"Do not touch me!" Chris raised his right arm roughly, trying to shake off Y/N’s hand without success. "If you knew my girlfriend, ma'am, you wouldn't dare. She could be nearby right now, you know?" He pretended to look around desperately, finally managing to push Y/N’s hand away. "She's going to kill you."

༻

"Hi, good afternoon! Can I sit in the front?" Y/N asked, already sitting in the back seat, leaning over the console and pointing to the passenger seat.

"You can’t, ma'am." Chris shook his head quickly, keeping his eyes fixed forward.

"But there's no one there. You must feel so lonely." Y/N pouted, looking into the rearview mirror, trying to catch Chris’s eyes.

Chris moved suddenly, lifting his right leg over the gear lever and resting his foot on the floor of the passenger seat.

"Don’t worry, miss, that’s not a problem. I take both seats, you see?" He glanced at the rearview mirror, losing his balance and accidentally pressing the horn, its loud sound echoing through the garage.

༻

"Excuse me, sir, there's a little thing in there! Let me clean it for you." Y/N, already inside the car and leaning between the passenger and driver seats, murmured. Her right hand lightly grabbed Chris's chin, turning his head towards her.

Chris let her, his blue eyes meeting hers. His pupils dilated as he watched her face, his lips parting slightly as he felt his heartbeat increase its pace. He tilted his head closer, their mouths brushing for a brief moment.

"Christopher Sturniolo, are you going to kiss your passenger?!" Y/N suddenly pulled away, hitting his shoulder hard.

"It was an accident, babe-"

༻

"Sir, do you like brunettes?" Y/N asked, leaning over the back of the driver's seat and laying the side of her face on the headrest. She kept her eyes fixed on Chris, biting her bottom lip lightly, trying to convey an air of seduction.

"No, miss, I like bald ones." Chris quickly responded without looking at her, causing Y/N to burst into laughter.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4. I can't go out

"I can't go out."

Y/N lay sprawled on the bed she shared with Chris, the soft, inviting sheets cradling her body. Her phone hovered above her, capturing her every move as she began to lip-sync to the familiar audio. The screen’s glow bathed her face in a gentle, almost ethereal light, accentuating the gleam in her eyes and the subtle curve of her lips, painted with a delicate pink gloss.

"Cough, cough." She murmured as she feigned illness, her free hand coming up, fingers curling into a delicate fist that she brought to her lips, a playful, exaggerated expression dancing across her features. "I'm sick." She finished, the mock severity in her face making her eyes sparkle with mischief.

She shifted the phone slightly, widening the view just as Chris’s strong arm snaked into the frame. His biceps, taut and defined, flexed dramatically, the play of muscles under his skin evident and undeniably captivating.

His skin was warm around her neck, the faint scent of him - a mix of his natural aroma and the lingering trace of his Dior cologne - intoxicating her senses. The pressure of his bicep against her cheeks made her bite down on her lower lip, her teeth digging into the soft flesh to stifle the smile, threatening to break free.

Her body responded instinctively to his closeness, a shiver of excitement coursing down her spine. She tilted her head slightly, her hair cascading over his arm like a silken waterfall, each strand catching the light in a mesmerizing display.

She was so lucky.

© vanteguccir

[giuseppe-yuki]

friendly neighborhood boyfriend

spiderman!esteban ocon x reader

w.c.: 4.3k

warnings: curse words, mentions of violence

summary: WHY were your boyfriend’s clothes always scuffed up, his body always bruised, and his hands so freaking sticky??

a/n: sorry to any hardcore marvel and spiderman fans if there are any huge inaccuracies... i know close to nothing about the to the mcu spiderman lore besides a few watches of tom holland's spiderman movies so errr yeah.

picture credits from pinterest :)

present

three whole hours of doing nothing but waiting on your boyfriend’s stupid bunk bed had to be a new record- you’re sure of it. if there was a contest for this niche topic, you would literally be the reigning world champion. your last personal best was an hour and a half, which seemed pretty long, but was definitely miniscule to this new groundbreaking achievement of three hours. 

you were heavily considering filing a missing person’s report before the telltale noise of his squeaky fire escape window opening and the soft “thump” of his shoes landing on the carpet sounds in your ears.

estaban slips in like a ninja of some sort, which makes you roll your eyes. he innocently re-adjusts his clothes and brushes off any offending pieces of dust that had landed on his school backpack as if he didn’t just climb through his freaking window, seven stories up. you finally speak up when he reaches his hand towards the window panel. 

“what is the excuse this time, huh? did you like, take a detour to save the entire city of new york in the three hours it took for you to travel from our high school to your own house?” 

esteban freezes half-way in the middle of closing his window, looking alarmed, before his face morphs into a guilty frown when he sees you with your arms crossed on his blue bedspread. 

“i’m so, so, sorry baby!” he exclaims, hurriedly sliding the window all the way shut with a bang. “something came up again- i swear! i- i can explain! please don’t be mad at me!” 

you just sigh and roll your eyes, watching as esteban, like always, stutters out an excuse for his lateness as he peels off his mangy jacket that, more often than not, was dirt-coated. it was after-school detention a few days ago, an unplanned stop at the grocery store last week, and heavy traffic the week before that.

”let me guess… you got stuck in an elevator? subway delays? or maybe traffic again?”

”yes…?” esteban responds, nervously wringing his hands under your harsh glare. 

when it is clear you are not going to let up, he quickly reaches into his backpack, a mangled and stained piece of cloth that looked like it was on its last life, and pulls out a rather flattened object wrapped with wax paper. 

he holds it out to you like an apologetic offering.

“i also stopped by delmar’s deli grocery on my way back and got you your favorite - ham, cheese, pickle on french bread with mustard, grilled and pressed real flat,“ he says quietly.

you suppose you can forgive him- this time.

“alright,” you huff, taking the sandwich from his hand. “i guess i forgive you.” 

esteban brightens up almost immediately, and quickly skirts around the half-built lego death star littered on his bedroom floor to jump into his bed next to you as you take a huge bite from the sandwich. 

besides the fact that it was a little cold from sitting in your boyfriend’s backpack for a little while, it tasted absolutely scrumptious. 

in the minutes it takes for your boyfriend to lay his lanky self horizontal on the bed and place his head in your lap so you can rake one of your hands through his short black hair, you scarf down the last of the sandwich.

“merde!” he notes from your lap, looking at the empty spot in your hand where he swore the sandwich was a second ago. “was it that good?” 

you laugh, patting the top of his head. 

“of course- mr. delmar always makes the best-“

almost immediately, you are distracted by the most ginormous hole in his shirt that you were surprised you hadn’t noticed before. it lies on the area where his shoulder meets his neck, probably hidden from his jacket when he came in, but visible from the angle from above his head. the edges of the hole look burnt.

what the fuck? 

esteban looks at you quizzically when you pause your sentence. 

“-best..?”

“sorry, i got distracted by the biggest hole you have in your shirt right now,” you giggle, jokingly poking at the soft skin visible from where the hole resides.“did you blow something up in chemistry and get acid on your shirt or something?”

instead of laughing though, he hisses and shrinks away from your touch almost immediately.

you snatch your hand back with a gasp, feeling terrible for hurting your boyfriend, even if you didn’t mean to. 

“i-i-i’m so sorry,” you stutter out. “i didn’t know…?” 

”no, no, no, it’s fine- i’m fine- it’s all okay,” he says reassuringly, yet he still sits up and adjusts his shoulder gingerly.

”did someone beat you up at school, este?” you ask slowly, searching his face for answers. 

this isn’t the first time he came home with bruises on his body. bullies were the only possible explanation, and it wasn’t out of the park, considering there were some pretentious assholes at school who you knew openly disliked your boyfriend for no reason whatsoever. 

reaching up and placing a hand comfortingly on your shoulder, he looks you in the eye. 

“baby, thank you for your concern, but i’m okay- i promise- i just ran really hard, um, backwards, into a shelf, and there was this whole big thing about somebody dropping some cigarette ashes onto a part of my shirt, so that explains the whole burnt hole scenario.”

you obviously don’t buy it, but you still, you nod, hesitantly.

esteban smiles at you and squeezes your shoulder once reassuringly, before starting to turn back around to sprawl himself back in your lap.

however, to your horror, when he lifts his hand off of your shirt, it sticks to his hand like it’s superglued there. 

???

in your state of confusion, your boyfriend’s eyes widen and he yanks his hand back from your shirt, almost propelling you off of the bed from the force he exerts. 

“what the fuck was that, este?” you screech, looking at the shoulder at your shirt to see if there were somehow remnants of whatever magic your boyfriend used to temporarily glue his hand to your shirt. 

there isn’t, really- just a small white stain of sticky, web-like fluid?

”i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he repeats, hands held high in the air away from you.

at this point, you snap. 

“esteban ocon, you need to explain right now. i just went through, like, five different emotions in the last five minutes, and i don’t know what just happened, but as your girlfriend, i need you to tell me why you always show up with your clothes scuffed up, body bruised, and fingers all sticky???” 

“i don’t,” he defends desperately.

you sigh. 

”let’s take a trip down memory lane, huh? last saturday?” 

last saturday 

your little kitten heels clack against the pavement, shiny and sleek against the dirty grime-covered grey of new york’s sidewalks. you wore it on purpose, obviously, along with one of your favorite outfits that you knew would leave esteban drooling. the hazy sky orange sky bleeds into black behind you, but the always-on lights of new york light up your jewels, leaving a shiny hue around your neck. 

the restaurant that you had booked almost a month in advance loomed overhead, fairy lights around its exterior that you knew would perfectly set the mood for you and your boyfriend’s two-year anniversary dinner. 

“yeah, i’m almost there,” you parrot back to your boyfriend on the phone as you squeeze through a group of noisy tourists who were- quite rudely- taking up the entire sidewalk. “i’m at the corner, like, a minute away from the french restaurant-“ 

before you can finish your sentence, a shrill scream from among the crowd of people interrupts. 

“hey! give me back my bag!”  

a masked man whips past you, knocking straight into a pretty girl in gym workout clothes nearby.

the giant protein shake in her hand flies out of her hand, and it is almost like slow motion when its contents splash across your clothes. 

“fuck!” you yelp. 

the shake is cold as it drips down the entire side of your right side. it smells like cookies and crème. 

esteban’s voice sounds frantic on the other side. 

“what? what? baby, are you okay? i’m on the way, just hold on!”

with the rise of crooks and supervillains in new york lately, it was no wonder that he sounded worried. 

“i’m fine,“ you reassure him. “just- let me call you back- there’s a situation where i’m at,” you reply quickly, glaring at the backside of the masked man who continues to scamper down the road with a bright pink purse that obviously didn’t belong to him. 

you jam the red “end call” button on your phone just in time to see the girl offer you a semi-moist gym towel. a monogrammed “abbi” is stitched on the edge. 

”i’m so, so, sorry!” the girl- abbi- blurts out apologetically. “i just left the alpine gym a block away and that-“ she gestures over to the man, who was now leaping across lanes of new york traffic, “-absolute dick just pushed me! i can, like, pay for your dry cleaning, if you want?” 

you start to reassure her, using the towel to dab up some of the bigger chunks of protein shake and unmixed powder, when, in the corner of your eye you spot a flash of red, blue and black from the metal scaffolding of a nearby construction site.

abbi’s mouth drops in amazement. 

“is that-?”

you stop dabbing the towel and turn, only to find the great superhero of the new york- the one and only spider-man- swing down onto the concrete, barely missing the tips of your heads.  

well, great. thanks, spiderman, for conveniently showing up now, you think. 

“hey ladies, no worries, i got this!” spider-man shouts, throwing finger guns at you both before sprinting towards the crook. 

he propels himself like a freaking rocket across the street onto the masked man with the purse, sending the both of them into a dirty puddle on the gutter of the sidewalk. they scuffle for a bit before spider-man successfully knocks out and ties the crook, semi damp and scuffed up, onto a nearby pole. 

huffing with exertion, he stands back up before swinging with his webs over the heavy traffic and back towards you and abbi with the bag hoisted on his shoulder. 

landing with a soft thump, he stiffly extends the bag out towards the pair of you, arm straight at a 90 degree angle with his body. 

“um, is this yours?” spider-man asks, voice barely muffled through his mask.

it wasn’t every day that an average new yorker saw spider-man in real life. he seemed a little- taller than you expected. and a little more…awkward.

“no, no, it’s not,” abbi says quickly. she looks starstruck, hand limply holding the half-empty shake container and the other barely gripping the dirty monogrammed towel you gave back.

“yeah, it’s not ours,” you say in support. “i think it was some lady way behind us.” 

spider-man scratches his head. 

“oh,” he says. “um, well okay.”

there’s a slight pause before he continues. 

“did um, any of you guys, want me to escort you to wherever you are going next? with all this, like, crime and all, going on, you know?” 

wherever you're going...shit, the anniversary dinner!

“i’m fine, thank you,” you assert, hurridly turning to go. “i have an dinner to get to with my boyfriend.” 

abbi, however, just about explodes with giddiness. 

“you? spiderman? escort me? yes please!” 

after sprinting like you were usain bolt into the french restaurant and avoiding the weird looks regarding the giant stain on your outfit, you are seated in a comfortable spot underneath the twinkling fairy lights. a waiter comes by and lights a few candles as well, creating what would have been a real romantic atmosphere- if esteban was there. 

present

“even after being held up by spider-man, i waited for like, twenty minutes in that restaurant, este.” 

your boyfriend shifts awkwardly on the bed. 

“yeah, but-” he starts.

“no, i’m not done,” you snap. “not only that, your entire dress shirt was literally wet and had unidentified scuff marks on it. care to explain yourself?”

he stays silent. 

you sigh. 

“even if i forgive you for that, how about you explain the weird bruises you got at the school fair on wednesday?” 

last wednesday

as the reigning associated body president, you were in charge of one of the biggest fundraisers at midtown school of science and technology- the grand fair. it was a tradition, at this point, for every president to host a larger, bigger, fair than the last in an effort to outdo one another. it always raked in thousands of dollars from the community that single-handedly funded many of the school’s programs.

last year, gwen, the asb president then, had somehow gotten bumper-cars as an attraction, which you decided to one-up by adding an enormous ferris wheel and dunk tank, which would more than likely look even more impressive. 

the new york state fair had nothing on you by the time you had most of the stalls set up an hour and a half before the event started. the cotton candy and popcorn machine was up and running, making whiffs of spun sugar and melted butter float over the quickly darkening site. between a few student workers, milling about, the little game stalls flashed red and yellow, advertising bean bag throwing or ring tosses to earn giant stuffed prizes shaped like the school mascot. 

esteban, being the good boyfriend he was, had volunteered to come “help” you organize and sort all the booths at the fair site, but you knew it was a pitiful excuse that would probably end up with him taking advantage of open booths and nicking a shit ton of cotton candy and kettle corn popcorn. 

like you predicted, after rounding the final grassy corner from the balloon darts booth, you spot your boyfriend metres away, sitting still and looking pretty at a little decorated picnic table stuffing his mouth with cotton candy.

so much for helping set up the stalls.

when esteban spots you from the table, he beams and waves energetically, teeth and lips colored an artificial strawberry pink.

“hi baby!” he shouts, startling a few classmates setting up and a few poor birds in the trees. “the fair is looking really good- and so is the food!”

you roll your eyes, but nonetheless blow a kiss to him. 

reaching a hand up, your boyfriend exaggeratedly mimes snatching your kiss out of the air and sliding it into his pocket before patting it protectively. 

you giggle softly and turn back towards the front of the venue after he blows an air-kiss back with a more-than audible smooching sound. even if he was a little goofy sometimes, he more than made up for it with all the love and support he gave you. 

weaving through small groups of students that were just-arriving, you flip through your clipboard of papers to do some last minute checks.

it’s not until a few seconds later when you hear a thundering sound of propellers behind you.

huh, you don’t remember setting up anything that involved propellers. 

curiously, you turn around  and snap your head up, only to meet a glowing green hoverboard paired with a grinning, wild haired man that immediately strikes fear in your heart, freezing your feet from moving.

the green goblin. 

“hiya there sweetie,” he says, peering down at you in a sickenly sweet voice. “do you know where your-“ 

before he can finish his sentence, a flash of blue-red flashes across the sky and sends the green goblin flying, narrowly missing the game stalls.

for the second time in a freaking week, you were graced with the presence of spider-man. but now, he was fighting green goblin. over your just-built fair. 

in all of new york, of all the times, green goblin decided to pick now to start a petty fight? 

almost immediately, screams from your classmates start up, blending weirdly with the jolly carnival music surrounding the atmosphere as the green goblin’s pumpkin bombs rain down from the sky. they sprint past you, pushing and shoving to get away from the potentially-deadly scene.

the first thought in your head is: esteban.

you force your legs to start moving to find your boyfriend in the now burning fair-site as the pair in the air above you crash straight into your house of mirrors, sending glass shards everywhere. 

even when you straight-up almost die after one of the bombs land a little too close to your feet, you continue searching through many of the booths and stalls for your boyfriend. there was no way you were going to let him die to something as stupid as one of spiderman’s city-demolishing fights. 

your search is largely unfruitful, even though you do find a few trapped classmates under a destroyed balloon-making stand as spider-man and green goblin grapple each other and do irreversible damage to your fair. 

by the time you find the picnic table your boyfriend was sitting at a few frightening minutes later, it didn’t even matter that spider-man had won the fight by propelling green goblin’s unresponsive body straight into the dunk-tank that you spent a wild amount of asb money on, because the table was entirely crushed, with your boyfriend nowhere in sight. 

an existential feeling of dread fills your chest. 

no. no. 

you wipe a few stray tears from your eyes. 

you refuse to accept this. esteban had to be around here somewhere. 

before you set off to look someplace else, a red-and-blue clad body blocks your path.

spider-man.

“are you okay?” he asks, patting your shoulder. 

you could almost throttle him.

”no!” you screech, on the verge of bursting into tears. “you fucking destroyed my entire fair, and now i can’t find my boyfriend!! why couldn’t you fight green goblin somewhere else?” 

spider-man recoils, snatching his hand back.

 “i-i-i’m sure he’s fine,” he stutters out. “he’s probably, you know-“ he gestures around the burning debris next to him- “around..here.” 

you’re not satisfied with spider-man’s flippant answer. what if esteban was buried under a bunch of heavy wood planks? what if he was trapped underneath a fiery inferno? 

although you were pissed at the so called “hero” in front of you, you couldn’t help but admit that he would probably be the best chance in finding your boyfriend. 

trying your best to hold yourself together, you snap, “look, spider-man, can you just please find my boyfriend? he’s kind of tall, has straight short black hair.. i just can’t bear losing him right now, okay?” 

he nods once, tersely, before swinging off into the flames. 

it doesn’t even take five minutes before your esteban steps out behind a wrecked hot dog stall. even if he looks absolutely disheveled, with countless bruises littering his arms and a half-ripped shirt, you can’t help but to run straight into his arms, feeling his body against yours. 

your boyfriend tucks you into him, making sure to pat head comfortingly. 

“hi baby, you okay?” he asks a little too nonchalantly, as if you both weren’t standing in the midst of what looked like to be the aftermath of a meteor shower. 

“no!” you shoot back, leaning backwards to look up at his face. your face must be streaked with tears, but you didn’t care at this point. “i genuinely thought you died, esteban.” 

“ah,” he replies. “well i, um, didn’t, so that’s good. i just, you know, went to the bathroom.” 

present

“don’t get me wrong, esteban, i was super glad you were fine that i didn’t really question you, but now i realize- what the hell were you doing in the bathroom that got you bruises that bad?”

your boyfriend wrings his hands. 

“i, like, ran into the bathroom door really hard after i heard those banging sounds from outside the restroom.” 

hmm. 

you roll your eyes.

”okay, how about yesterday when you got literally everything in my room sticky during our physics study session?” 

esteban raises and eyebrow before snorting, seemingly taking your words a different way.

you huff. boys and their dirty minds.

“no! i’m being serious!” 

yesterday

although your boyfriend could somehow ace physical education class, no problem, and run a mile in, like, under six minutes, he struggled sometimes with other subjects. thirty one sit-ups? sure. thirty one algebra or physics questions? eh, not so much.  

good thing though, he had a top-of-the-class, straight a student as a girlfriend. 

by hosting impromptu study sessions (that honestly usually ended with you both making out on your bed since esteban got distracted pretty easily), you were able to boost his average grade up to a moderately acceptable level.

currently, your room looked like an absolute mess, with esteban’s physics papers scattered everywhere on the floor, eraser shavings all throughout the area, and your heavy textbook flipped open halfway.

“alright, next problem!" you exclaim. "what is the net force of a race car on a 30 degree-angled bank- are you even listening?” 

while you read out the next question on his homework, it is clear that your boyfriend’s attention has drifted elsewhere, specifically the tv mounted on the corner of your room. 

you knew you should have turned it off before you started tutoring him.

when you glance over to what has caught your boyfriend’s attention, the screen blares an all-too-common scene of a bank robbery that was taking place a few blocks away. from the helicopter live-footage through the side of the bank's glass window pane, a masked man greedily stuffs green bills into his camo bag. 

it doesn’t cause you that much concern though. you knew spider-man, the sometimes good/sometimes bad friendly neighborhood hero would show up soon or later to patch up the situation, so you reach over the papers to tap esteban gently on the shoulder. 

“okay baby, focus! you’re literally almost done with the worksheet!”

instead of snapping his attention back to the work though, he scoots back rather hurriedly and announces that he was going to get something to eat. 

you let him rush out of the room, knowing that he was probably going to be stuffing his face with the fresh pain au chocolat that your mother had freshly made a few hours ago.

meanwhile, you scribble shapeless blobs on the corner of your history homework. 

the news network on your tv moves on from the robbery (like anticipated, spider-man came in, swinging on his webs, and slingshotted the robber against the bank wall) to some car race in australia by the time your boyfriend skips back into your room, slamming the door behind him with a flourish. 

you pat the seat next to you, gesturing for him to sit down. 

he peers at your tv for a quick second before settling down next to you. 

“welcome back, este!” you say enthusiastically. “don’t worry- you didn’t miss much from the tv- just spider-man saving a bank or whatever.” 

“oh,” your boyfriend murmurs, fiddling with a pencil. “was- was he cool?”

”huh?” you blurt out, puzzled.

he waves you off quickly, setting the pencil down and scooting closer to your desk.

”no, nothing, just joking. so um, where were we on the physics homework?” 

you send him a weird look before shuffling his papers back to how it was before. 

“ok, back to the problem- what is the net force of a race car on a 30-degree angled bank…”

when you finish re-reading the problem, you reach over to grab the pencil that esteban put down to draw out a diagram to clarify the problem, when surprisingly, it doesn’t budge. 

even when you pull as hard as you could, the pencil stays stubbornly stuck to the desk.

what the..? 

present

“okay,” esteban says, waving his hands in the air as if it was clarifying things. “i went to your kitchen to eat those éclairs your mom made, remember? i got the crème filling on my hands, and it got on the pencil and everything, so that’s why it got stuck to the table...” 

you were so done with this guy. 

“este- my mom didn’t make éclairs- she made pain au chocolat!” 

caught up in his lie, there was nothing your boyfriend could do but to scratch his head awkwardly and pretend not to make eye contact with you. 

scoffing, you shake your head. honestly, you didn’t understand why your boyfriend had to lie all the time. what did he even have to hide? 

pushing off the bed, you take off your piece of clothing with the weird stain that had came from esteban’s hands in one smooth motion. it was probably best to get the stain out immediately before it ruined your shirt. besides, it would give him a chance to reflect. maybe then he’d tell you. 

before walking out to throw your laundry in the wash, you sternly tell off your boyfriend.

”este, i suggest you tell me whatever it is you’re hiding after i come back from starting up the laundry, because, as your girlfriend, i think i deserve to know, no?”

chucking your piece of clothing into the washing machine, you decide to wash a few articles of esteban’s clothes as well, cause hey, it saves water, right?

you throw in a few mismatched socks, a scuffed up hoodie, and a worn shirt before you spot a flash of red-spandex like material at the bottom of his basket. 

brushing aside a rolled-up pair of jeans, your eyes widen almost comically when you spot what it really is. tucked haphazardly at the bottom of your boyfriend’s laundry basket is a wrinkled spider-man mask.

general taglist: @ellelabelle @n0vazsq

[octopiys]

what happens if honey (reader) is home alone and theres a break in? or she's in any danger and Simon's not there haha hypothetically what happens 👁👁

ohhhh anon I love what you're thinking here

Lost and Found

Cw: panic attack, violence, blood, death (but its deserved) [not proofread]

Simon goes out of town for his job. He was lucky, he said, too have as much time off for that long while as he did.

He'd only be gone a few days.

Yeah, a few days, you can do that, right? Easy.

You had a ton of leftovers and still more food in the fridge. You should have enough dog food to keep the bowls full outside, and you can still go out in the yard.

You're not on house arrest while he's gone. You can still do whatever you want.

So for the first hour, you sat on the couch, staring at nothing while the duck slept in the box, and Scraggle settles right in your lap, yapping.

What could you do while he was gone? You were overwhelmed with possibility. What couldn't you do?

You missed him. Tears pricked your eyes, stung the waterline, you missed him.

So you do what you're good at, and cook about it.

Kinder to bury your sorrows in the stove than in the ground. What can you make?

There's fish in the freezer. You're not sure what kind it is, but it's only labeled with "price."

What the price is, you're not sure. But Simon would've told you if there was something you couldn't use, right? Maybe it's an expensive fish. Bagged in vacuum seal plastic..... yeah, it probably won't be missed.

You're frying tonight. You've got bread crumbs and oil, and a spare lemon from the fruit bowl. The sun is setting, and the first piece comes off as a test.

You try some of it, hissing at how hot it was, before making direct eye contact with Scraggle, who suddenly seems like it's never been fed in its life. You roll your eyes and slide some to the cat with a quiet warning of "It's hot!"

The cat paws at the piece of fish, before launching in a perfect vertical off the counter, yowling it's head off. It leaps off the counter, does a lap around the room, knocks a few sheets off the printer, launches back onto the counter– you can't help but watch, there was no way to stop it– takes the fish in it's mouth, and darts outside.

You stand in the kitchen, alone and in disbelief.

You look around, as if Simon could've seen that whole fiasco, before laughing softly to yourself.

(Those cameras prove interesting videos when there's a lull in the mission, or there's quiet time in the safehouse. He'll wait for you to tell him about it first. The cameras won't be mentioned.)

The fish and potatoes come off the stove, and you make yourself a plate. You set it at the table, before going to put a record on.

Simon had forgotten he had those. They were stowed away in the garage, with a bunch of old boxes that he still couldn't bare to look through yet.

He hears some old tunes playing from inside of the house, and freezes, memories jolting back to stun him.

He's stumbled into the house, using the walls to push him along, feeling weak in the legs and soft in the head, spinning out of control, until he sees you humming along in the kitchen, the soft sway of your hips to the tunes of an old song he can't remember the name of. You're tasting cookie dough from a spoon, lost in the bliss of it all. At peace. Safe.

He swallows roughly, a sting at his eyes unfamiliar, the tightness in his chest suffocating.

For the first time in years, he thinks the words: I miss my mom.

You hadn't noticed him enter then, those weeks ago, nor had you heard him leave. You sway your hips, moving rhythmically to the instrumental soundtrack as you made your way over to the table.

You were sure Barrow was asleep somewhere, and the smaller mutt with her (inseparable, they were), and Scraggle was off somewhere, recovering from its zoomies. Just you and the music to dinner, then.

By the time your dinner had finished, the dogs were out for the night. The bowls were full, and new blankets were layed out.

You decide to take a bath tonight. Simon said you could use his bathroom, and you wanted to maybe try and take full advantage of it.

When was the last time you had a proper bath? You didn't have any salts, but that's okay. There were a few candles in the cabinet in the kitchen, and your bodywash would bubble up the hot water enough.

You hum softly to yourself as you slip out of your clothes and into the warm water with a sigh. Relaxation slips into your being as the water spills over every inch of you, your hair not touching the water. Your book, the old copy of the Hobbit, finds it's way into your hands as you pick up where you left off. The music is still playing down the hall.

The pony is in the river– something breaks outside. Scraggle must've gotten on your plate, silly you for leaving it out.

The brothers go after the pony, ladden with supplies, but Kili-

The music ends abruptly.

You freeze, hairs on your arms standing straight up. Your stomach flips with sudden anxiety, despite virtually nothing happening.

Obviously, Scraggle must've unplugged the cord after hopping off the table where your plate was. Yeah, that was it.

–pony, ladden with sup–

Ice floods your veins at the realization. You were supposed to be alone in the house. Scraggle hadn't come back inside before you locked the back door.

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, scrambling out of the tub as quiet, and urgently, as you could. You slip back into whatever you were wearing before, it didn't matter if it had been dirty or not.

Did Simon keep weapons in the house? There were steak knives in the kitchen. The main phone line was in there, too.

Simon had an emergency phone in his night stand.

Something smashes and you jolt, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you move to peek around the lower corner of the bathroom door.

Shadows dance along the wall and your heart skips a few beats, dancing in your throat.

Had he come to find you?

N- no, you were safe here. Simon told you, he promised you were- what was the emergency dial for this region? You didn't know, could it change? You had to find the phone, and something to defend yourself with.

You held your breath, skin damp, still practically half naked, before darting across the room to the nightstand, and pulling it open soundlessly.

Inside were a few cords, a notepad, moisturizer, and a flip phone.

Of course it was a flip phone.

You open up the contacts tab, cringing at each small beep made by the keypad, tucked in the gap between Simon's large bed and the wall.

>JP

>JM

>KG

>Work

What do you choose? Who were these contacts?

You hear someone laugh, and tears spill down your cheeks. You can't go back, you can't, he couldn't find you this soon.

The phone is dialing. You don't remember which one you picked.

It answers on the second ring. No one speaks.

"...s- simon-" Your voice wobbles out, just below a whisper. Something else breaks, and a quiet sob leaves your mouth.

"Honey? Why're you-"

Relief breaks across you at the familiar gruffness of Simon's voice. Thank God he picked up.

"Someone- someone's in the house- two people- I d- don't know what-" You stumble over your words quickly, trying to tell him everything all at once. You can't breathe. "Need- your help, please-"

"Someone's in the house?" You can hear him stand. There's a bite in his voice, like the edge of a dagger, or the cold of a glacier, immobile. "Where are you?"

"Y- Yes, Simon, please-" You hiccup, stifling another sob with a hand over your mouth. You tell him you're in between his bed and the wall.

"There's a lockbox under the bed. Can you see it?" He asks you.

You scoot a bit, and peer under the bed. It's practically spotless, the gap between the bed and the floor just large enough to squeeze in if someone needed to get under there. You locate the box.

It's on the other side, closest to the door.

"I- I see it-" You whisper.

"Get in there. There's a code-"

You'd have to put yourself between the box and the door in order to open it. They were just down the hall, how they hadn't made their way back here yet, you didn't know. Then they'd catch you, they'd catch you for sure if you left your spot right here, and drag you all the way back- they'd push you through the fields, and the miles of woods, oh god, they'd make you go back to him. They'd make you go back to-

"Honey-"

You're hyperventilating, thinking yourself into a hole. There's no way that you could see yourself getting out of here in the way you want.

"Honey!"

You snap back into it. Lockbox.

"S- Sorry- I can reach it, let me just-" You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and push yourself under the bed. You reach, and can't touch it, so you dig harder, push yourself a little more until your fingertips graze the cold metal of the box, and you tug it towards your, curling in on yourself to open the box.

You punch in the code, open the box, and–

A hand wraps around your ankle and yanks with a sick pop, pulling you out from under the bed. You scream, your phone clattering into the box. You see it close, watching in horror as the bed disappears from above you, your shoulder catching on the underside of the bed on the way out.

You immediately turn, fight or flight kicking in, and lash out, screaming. Your fingers dig into the man's throat, you can't see, before his arm rears back and strikes you across the face.

You don't remember hitting the floor.

You come to, the coarseness of the carpet scratching your back, rugburn. You twitch, blinking the bleariness out of your eyes before writhing, you're being dragged by your legs. You kick out, screaming, turning to grab the walls, or nearest piece of furniture. A book on the ground, you launch it at the head of the man, covered in a ski mask.

He yelps out, dropping you, and you scramble to your feet, head spinning, before you launch yourself back down the hallway.

There's a man in your house.

You find another man in Simon's room. He's got the box open at his feet.

You lunge at him, screaming, your mind blank with fear, or rage or- well, there are men in your house. They want to hurt you.

Who would care for your animals if you were gone?

You don't know how, but the gun is in your hands.

There's blood, and there's a lot of it, and you can't tell how much of it is yours.

There is a man, in your house.

You rise shakily to your feet, heart thudding in your ears. You turn to the doorway of Simon's room.

You make your way out of the room, a heavy limp to your step, your hips ache in the curve of your legs, a dull pain muted by adrenaline.

No one. No one will hurt your animals. No one will hurt your house.

Lucky for you, the man meets you halfway. His nose is bleeding, and you raise your gun at him.

He stops, leaning against the wall as he smiles, the blood from his nose staining his teeth.

"Cmon, Baby, you don' know what yer doin'... Jus' drop the gun. I'll help you out, Baby, cmon Baby, jus-" He coos at you, like you're helpless.

There's a yowl, and a flash of cat, and Scraggle appears from almost nowhere, sinking it's toothy mouth into the man's ankle. He shouts out, hopping up onto one foot, flinging his other wildly. Scraggle shoots up into the air, before landing on its feet, hissing erratically.

The man starts forward towards your cat.

"Why you little-"

There's another flash.

You sink to the ground, your head in a pounding agony. You can't hear anything past the ringing in your ears, the loud screech leftover by a fired gunshot in close quarters. You can't hear, can't breathe.

You're bleeding, somewhere, you don't know if you can find out the source.

Scraggle curled up in your lap, purring and licking at your hand.

Did you see, mother. Did you see how good Scraggle has done. Defended the home front, all alone, no help at all, did you see how good Scraggle has done? Praise it, praise it mother, feed it extra tonight, Scraggle deserves it, bested the beasts by itself, it did-

Your eyes drag over to the body of the man in the hall, and you do nothing about it. A kind of satisfaction fills you, like sweet rot, mossy mildew in your chest. Your hand rests on Scraggle, who was completely unharmed.

There's a slight smile on your face as the medicine kicks in, and you nestle in closer to Simon. The questions will come later, sleep is now. No one hurts your animals.

You blink, and someone's crouching in front of you, cradling your head in his hands. You hum, tired enough to not bother opening your eyes. He opens them for you, shining a bright light, and you flinch back with a whine.

He's pressing his forehead to yours the second the light disappears, mumbling something you still can't hear.

You mouth his name, or say it, you can't tell, and lean into the warmth that is Simon. Your face is wet with fresh tears, and everything hurts, fix it Simon, please-

He pulls you into his arms, Scraggle brushing up against you, purring. You can't hear it, but you can feel the vibrations of your favorite little critter, trying to do it's best to help heal you.

You're carried to your room and sat in your bed, Simon wrapping your shoulder in bandages– when did he get those?– and looking at your ankle. You're sleepy, you lean against him, seeking warmth body heat and comfort. He wraps his arms around you, and you fall under, your eyes drifting shut as you start to snooze against him.

You didn't seem to make the connection that there was more than one person helping him out, no matter how they got there so quickly.

John sticks his head into the room as you fall asleep, spotting Gaz on the floor trying to set your ankle, and Simon behind you, holding your sleeping form.

"She alright?"

"Yeah, sir. Just a bit roughed up. Where's Soap?" Simon rumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

Scraggle jumps up on the bed, nesting between you both. Blessings and healing to mother, blessing to father-

"Takin' out the trash." John responds. "Mind if we crash here for the night, once we get it all cleaned up?"

"Not in the least. There's pasta in the fridge, Cap'n."

And no one calls you Baby.

masterlist

[thelonestarinthesky]

⁸. ⁿᵒ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳ

⁺₊✦₊　　

pairing: senku x f!reader

chapter 8 of 2/2- i. senku

⁺₊✦₊　　

Taiju and Yuzuriha noticed that Senku had grown quiet sometimes, sometimes pausing in between conversations about what he was working on, staring ahead in the distance before talking again.

He had only grown more frustrated since [Name] hadn't shown any signs of waking up and he's been itching to get the bottom of it. She was fine a day before their anniversary, laughing and smiling cheerfully, and had no signs of any coma-related symptoms. Then, the next day, she was in a coma with no explanation that even the medical staff could explain.

"What's her name?" Yuzuriha asked him quietly; the [Name] ]-like doll was quietly writing a few formulas for him on the bed.

"She doesn't have one. Although she knows my name, [Name] must have programmed her to know everything about me." Senku says arms crossed as he watches Taiju poke the doll machine swatting his hand away.

"Master Senku said I need to finish this before the day ends." The little robot resembling [Name] says, annoyed at Taiju, who keeps poking her cheek.

"She's so human-like, you can't even tell she's an android." The brown-haired boy says Senku kept staring at the small android; it's not tall, it barely reaches his knees, and it can fly in the air with no problem.

To him, seeing an android this advance is mesmerizing and just heart-aching.

[Name] was supposed to give the small android to him directly, not Byakuya; he had learned from the recorded messages played by the android that this was supposed to be his anniversary gift from her.

This android, who resembles his girlfriend, was supposed to be his assistant if she couldn't be there.

"....the best name it can have is naming it after its creator." He says as Yuzuriha looks back at him, she smiles sadly at this.

"Little [Name]."

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

Senku and Little [Name] stared down at what they had just done, the little android leaning in as Senku looked dejected.

"No! No, it looks nice!" She tries to cheer him up, clearly panicking. "Ooooh, you should definitely become a hair stylist!"

"I've never seen a perfectly cut bang!" She says, sweating.

Senku groans, rubbing his face, refusing to look at his own terrible actions. [Name]'s hair had obviously gotten longer during her coma and he thought it would be a good idea to trim and keep her hair neat. But he screwed up badly.

He slowly looks down at her face; her right eye is covered by her bangs, while the rest of her bangs are cut so poorly. He thought he could do a clean-cut but messed up halfway through.

"She's going to kill me." He whispered, pale.

"Don't worry Master Senku, we'll fix it." The android holds up the scissors again, but he holds her back. "N...no, we should probably stop before we make it worse."

—

Yuzuriha squeals. Happily, she had hogged Little [Name] for the day, and now the two were having a small fashion show.

"Aw, you look cute in anything!" She says, her eyes sparkling in inspiration to make new clothes.

.

"Let me down! I can't give you advice about confessing your undying love for Yuzuriha! I'm an assistant for Master Senku, not you!?" Little [Name] shouts angrily as Taiju carries her under his arms, clearly not flinching as the girl squirms around to get away.

"Master Senku, help!!"

.

Senku stared at Little [Name], who was happily eating a piece of warm bread. She didn't need to eat, but he did it out of habit; although she was an android, she resembled a human. Plus she enjoyed eating sweets.

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

It's been a year, Senku being 16 now but [Name] remained in her eternal sleep. Unfortunately, her father moved her to a private hospital because her coma-like state was leaked to the media and Yuzuriha had caught someone from the media inside [Name]'s hospital room, let in by bribing a nurse.

"Sorry it took so long to go get the cake; the nurses had it in their staff room," Yuzuriha says, placing the cake on the table beside the bed.

"It's been a year huh?" She says quietly, the room was quiet, besides the machines keeping [Name] alive; the doctors had officially declared her brain dead a couple of days ago due to her situation never improving. It was hard on everyone when the doctors suggested preparing for the worst, taking [Name] off life support.

Of course, her father had immediately shot the idea down, saying he was paying good money for the doctors to find what caused this whole thing when she was fine; she should've been fine.

"She's going to wake up, kids." Byakuya says, trying to lighten the mood, "It might take a couple more weeks or months, but I have a feeling no one in this room is going to give up on her."

Yuzuriha wipes her eyes, pumping her fist. "Right! [Name] is going to come back, I know it."

"Yeah! Or else Senku is going to become a widow and be sad all his life!" Taiju says, copying Yuzuriha's enthusiasm.

Byakuya laughs at this, wrapping his arm around Senku's neck, "That's right, kids; my future daughter-in-law is going to wake up and marry our dear Senku!"

Yuzuriha and Taiju agreed at this; Senku stared down at the peaceful face of [Name], one of his hands holding onto her limp hand.

His expression was unreadable, eyes gazing down at his girlfriend with such tenderness but a hint of sadness. He wouldn't say his feelings out loud, but everyone could tell from his silence.

After Taiju and Yuzuriha had left a couple hours later, Byakuya was cleaning up the room when Senku spoke up.

"Take Little [Name] with you to space," Senku says, surprising Byakuya, but the look on Senku's face made it hard for him to say no to his son's wish.

"Let [Name]'s android go to space with you."

Byakuya only sighed and smiled at him, "All right."

.

Swnku sat beside the hospital bed, his hands rubbing the back of [Name]'s hand gently, in his hand, his phone, watching the live stream of Byakuya getting ready to enter the spaceship to take him and the other two people to space.

"Looks like the old man is finally going to space, [Name]." He spoke to the [H/C] haired girl.

The live broadcast is Byakuya taking the microphone from the woman reporter, who looks flustered upon seeing him.

"Senku! I know you're not the type to watch a broadcast like this but...I swear I'll bring back a ton of scientific souvenirs for you and bring Little [Name] safe and sound!" Byakuya says, grinning at the camera while Sebku lets out a laugh at this.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up already." He says, smiling slightly at the screen of his phone.

"You hear that, [Name]? Your creation is going to be back soon, and so is the old man; he's been pretty lonely without, too, so wake up already." He gently flickers the girl's forehead before sighing, burying his face in his arms on the bed.

"....just wake up already," Senku mumbles to himself. "..or give me a sign that you're not really brain dead."

Silence was his only answer and has been for the last year. 

3 days later, all of humanity was turned to stone by a mysterious green light. 

taglist- @frootloopscos @itsnotsh1v4n1 @lovingyeet @kazuubaby @awwwia @foulbreadpaenut @verysanebsdfan @the-wild-tomato @copycat-namjesus @arimakanav @cchuisme

[cheri-cheri]

25 Canon Facts about Caleb - Part 3

As someone with the memory of a goldfish and an insatiable thirst for Caleb content, I'm embarking on a mini project to collate facts about him based on in-game texts \( ´ ꒳ ` )/♡ Let's appreciate our precious apple boy together!

✧ Part 1 ll Part 2 ll Part 4

A little bird "accidentally" fell into Caleb's arms and followed him around. It ended up stealing his lunch (leftover bread 🥺). [Daily - Troublemaker Birdie]

MC sent Caleb an anonymous package (using the name "make-him-drink-all-the-sour-apple-juice") containing a photo frame and a photograph of them together. She wanted him to look at the photo whenever he missed her and make his home feel less empty. [Daily - Anonymous Package]

Whenever Caleb walks past the vegetable stall downstairs, Banana (the owner's parrot) would land on his hand and shout "fresh cucumbers", "juicy eggplants" and "Banana, you're so pretty". Banana regularly dive-bombs him with its beak. [Daily - Parrot Talk]

MC feels that the sunny apple plushie reminds her of Caleb. She caught Caleb and the sunny apple plushie having a staring contest in his house. [Daily - Half Apple]

MC had various pieces of furniture (e.g. cabinets, coffee tables, sofas) delivered to Caleb's home to give it a more lived-in look and so that he wouldn't feel lonely even when he's by himself. [Daily - New Furniture]

Caleb used to save MC's allowance when they were kids. [Daily - Luck Bank]

When they were younger, MC would hide a puzzle piece on purpose so that Caleb's puzzles would be incomplete. MC thought that doing so would make Caleb pay more attention to her. [Daily - Puzzle Prank]

When MC left her clothes at Caleb's place, he did her laundry. He accidentally mixed a few fabric softeners together but MC liked how it smelled. He then created a recipe for it and has been using it ever since. Caleb feels that people who share the same scent are more likely to grow closer. [Daily - Detergent]

When Caleb and MC face a disagreement regarding a choice to make, they play Rock Paper Scissors and the winner gets to make the decision. [Event - Maze Challenge]

Caleb has a notebook filled with all the places they talked about visiting but haven't gone to yet. The notebook also contains MC's wishlist and records the dates of her visits to Skyhaven. [Daily - Notebook]

Caleb suggested writing "I wish MC would think of me every day" in all caps on the wishing lantern as his Lanternet Day wish. [Daily - Lost Wish]

The owner of the photo studio that MC and Caleb visited ten years ago is still the same. When they were younger, they got soaked in the rain after having their photos taken and were scolded by Grandma Josephine when they got home. Caleb has all their old photos backed up. [Daily - About a Decade]

On Azure's Echo Day, MC surprised Caleb by waiting for him at the train station. MC made several reservations at restaurants and got queue numbers. If all else failed, they planned to go to their old spot - a place tucked away in a corner that serves stir fry. [Daily - Train Delay]

After MC gave Caleb a pair of earrings, he found himself picking clothes that match them without even thinking about it, which led to MC wondering why all his recent clothes seem to have the same style. [Daily - Clothing Conundrum]

While Caleb was waiting for MC downstairs, he was sprayed by a flower-like sprinkler. He used his evol to make it stand back up but the sprinkler ended up moving even more. As his coat got a little wet, MC gave him her coat which was too big for her. [Daily - Sprinkler Flower]

MC always won when they had water fights. They haven't had a water fight since he went to the Aerospace Academy. [Daily - Sprinkler Flower]

When Caleb and MC went rock climbing, he used his evol to steady her. Afterwards, Caleb created a folder called "MC's Accomplishments" containing many photos of her, including pictures of him holding her hand as they reached the summit. [Daily - Rock Climbing]

Caleb and MC have visited a deer park. [Daily - Deer's Visit]

MC bought an adorable limited-edition amusement park puppy plushie for Caleb. Caleb bought a premium fairytale edition flower crown for MC. [Daily - Parade Float]

Caleb went for an eye check-up and the report stated that his vision improved. [Daily - Eye Test]

Caleb and MC agreed that when they need to retreat during battle, she will hold up three fingers. [Daily - Safety Protocol]

MC once forgot to close the fridge. She called Caleb for an emergency rescue mission where they ate at least 8 ice cream bars. [Daily - Circuit Maintenance]

Caleb stocks up his fridge with an abnormal number of ice cream bars for MC to eat when she comes over. Some have weird flavours that MC mentioned that she wanted to try. [Daily - Circuit Maintenance]

MC was upset when Caleb left in the morning without texting her. It turns out that Caleb left a note under her breakfast bowl but she skipped breakfast and didn't see it. [Daily - Useful Info]

The predictive text on MC's phone suggests Caleb's name the moment she types "C". [Daily - Useful Info]

❀ Masterlist

[meshla-cyarika]

Migraines

Pairing: Hunter x gn!reader

Word count: 805

Tags/warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, cuddles, Crosshair being Crosshair.

Summary: Your boyfriend is back from a mission, but all his sensory input is catching up with him.

--------------------------------------------------

Fuck the Sepratists.

You've been on a week long mission with Delta Squad and have only just gotten back Coruscant. You didn't even see any action, all you had to do was sit in hiding for a week and snoop around to find out if there were Separatists on the planet. There were, but they had left long before you even arrived.

A drawn out sigh leaves your lips, as you make your way towards the mess hall. You've already showered and you're planning on taking a long nap, but you know that if you dont eat anything before then, Boss' mother hen instincts will take over.

Once you get to the front of the que, the option of stew, or a slop that looks like it could be used to build houses stands before you. You ask for the stew, then you're about to make your way to a quieter table, when a booming voice yells out your name.

Your eyes land on the misfit band of clones known as the Bad Batch, who are sat at a small table by themselves. You instantly notice a certain sergeant's absence.

"Wrecker, I thought you lot were on Kashyyyk?" You tactfully take a seat next to Crosshair, knowing it's the spot where you're least likely to get bits of bread thrown at you by the snarky sniper.

"We were, but we crushed those clankers to dust!" Wrecker's booming laugh fills the air, while he clasps his fist in his other hand to emphasise his point.

"Is that a new record of how fast you've completed a mission?" You arch a brow and take a bite out of a piece of bantha meat.

"Hardly." Tech speaks up, not looking at his datapad for once. "Remember Felucia?" He gives you a look, referring to when they managed to take out an entire droid factory without even leaving the Marauder.

You let Tech and Wrecker break out into their own conversation, then you turn to Crosshair. "Where's Hunter?"

You're not that concerned, because you know that if anything drastic happened to the sergeant, you'd be the first to know. He is your boyfriend after all.

"Migraine." The sniper replies, seemingly too busy with picking off pieces of his bread to use as ammunition to actually look at you.

You sigh quietly and continuing eating your meal. Migraines aren't an uncommon battle for Hunter. With his enhanced senses, everything can become all too much very quickly. His migraines can vary from just a very strong headache, to throwing up and not being able to form sentences. Considering Crosshair's unbothered tone, this is one of the more mild ones.

You finish your meal quickly and stand up from the table to make your leave. "Well, not like this isn't fun, but I have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Which translates to: "don't come back to the ship, unless you want to be scarred for life"." Crosshair smirks up at you.

"Please. In his state, that might kill him." You scoff at his words.

"Urgh! Some people are trying to eat!" Wrecker complains, with a grimace set on his face.

《》《》《》《》

It's almost eery how silent and dark the Marauder is, when you step inside. Tech had mentioned something a while back about how he had managed to get rid of most of the noise pollution that the ship creates. How much they are willing to do for each other never fails to tug on your heart strings.

The light from the open door allows you to see a lump on one of the bunks at the back that you identify as Hunter. You step out of the doorway and the durasteel slides shut behind you, leaving you in darkness.

"Hunter." You call out softly, navigating your way to his bunk from memory alone. There's a grunt and a mumble of something that sounds like your name. "You need anything, cyare?" You sit on the edge of his bunk and your eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, which allows you to notice the few strands of hair in his face that you tuck back behind his ear.

"You. Just you." Hunter murmurs and you can't help the warm smile that etches it's way onto your face at his words.

"Shift over then, trooper." You give him a playful smirk.

"Rude." He huffs back, as he shimmies closer to the wall. You slide off your shoes and crawl into the narrow bunk beside him. Instantly, Hunter's arms are around your torso and he's tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

"I love you, you know that?" You absentmindedly comb your fingers through his hair and press a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Ni kar'taylir gar darasuum." He sounds like he's already half asleep, so you nestle closer to him and let your eyes drift closed...

[metalnchains]

Johnny's Lucky Charm

Basically i want to be near the 141, without going through basic. And i like fairies. This was NOT how this was supposed to happen. 

Sneaking around a busy base was difficult, a job only for trained adults. There were many pairs of large predatory eyes, and many resource lists to pay attention to. The amount of food, and fabric scraps made it worth it to live on this base though. You’d spent your whole childhood curled up on a cushion listening to the older folks spin stories of thievery and capture. Their tales of escape leaving you wide eyed, and slack jawed. Your own grandfather always maintained that he’d actually spoken to a human before. Insisting that he had spent hours and hours conversing with a general of all things about everything under the sun. He was your favorite to listen to, even if some of his details were fuzzy, and rambling. The stories about the war beasts were always the most harrowing. They felt  too terrifying to be real, like they were straight out of a nightmare. It was said that they could smell you out no matter where you were hidden, and dig you out with claws of metal. Those stories made it difficult to fall asleep after. You often raced around the nest pretending to be chased, captured, and escaping. Back then you’d used a small piece of wood instead of a needle blade. Your mother would have had your hide if you’d stolen your grandfather's blade to play with. All the children from the neighborhood would come together to form  pretend rescue parties, and raids under your family's careful eyes.

As you got older the more your merry little group were urged to consider the jobs that needed doing besides being a raider. Baking, mending, gardening, and cooking were just as important as acquiring raw materials from the outside. During your 13th year you and your peers were expected to have chosen your roles. Summer, and Lily were set for baking. Their first loaves of bread were passable enough to warrant an internship straight away. Fern, and Axel had always been excellent at making home bases for play so it was only natural that they turn to mending. Travis’ parents had instilled a love of soil and water in him from a young age. Gardening was his passion long before it was time to learn a trade. Only you were still daydreaming of humans and beasts when the time came to decide. Your mother had sobbed when you chose your path. 

You were a teen about to start training when you’d been told the real stories by the gnarled old raid leader. The stories where some would be trapped forever entombed in endless winter. Their only marker being a ghastly mound of ice. The stories of those who fell from the rafters twice taller than any human, where the crack of spines and ribs would echo. Those who were unfortunate enough to be under foot at the wrong time, with their demise marked by a streak of blood and bile on concrete. And worst of all, that the war beasts were real. Dogs were apparently the human term. Those who fell to them left no mark, only screams as they were torn to pieces and eaten. The leader had taken his arm out of his sleeve at that,  and showed you the stump of his arm from a narrow escape impressing on you the horror. He then asked if you had still wanted to be a raider. Your lip had trembled when you still said yes. 

And now here you are years later…being jostled awake by an ignorant giant boarding a plane. You’ve never miscalculated this badly before in your life. In fact you’d never regretted a whole ass decision so quickly before. 

Your current raid was poorly timed apparently. Generally the soldier’s habits were easily observed and memorized. The raiding office had years and years of records and patterns to look upon and lay plans with. Today was supposed to be an off day for most of the soldiers. An empty base made for easy resources. But something was happening. Multiple helicopters had landed right when you were trying to run from one building to the next. The wind nearly blew you off your feet, and trying to walk through the blast felt like pushing through a wall. You actually had to stop and catch your breath inside the bunkhouse from the effort. Hand on knees, gasping, the whole nine yards. Resting was top priority after catching your breath. Crawling into a dark corner of the room had taken the last of your energy. Your muscles ached with the effort of hiding yourself in the dark fabric inside the forgotten bag. You were out like a light in minutes. 

He nearly squashed you flat with his knuckles when he haphazardly stuffed the last of his belongings inside your makeshift shelter. Your frazzled, startled brain hardly registered how lucky you were that your limbs and tail were all ok before the teeth of the zipper started to close. You tumbled backwards as he picked up the bag and started walking. As you fight your way to the top of tee shirt mountain to the zipper you hear the blades of the chopper. You were in deep deep trouble. The deepest trouble has ever been even. Your progress was all for naught when he slung you onto the ground. The fucker had knocked the wind right out of you. It took a moment longer to once again right yourself in the pitch black, but at least his clothing didn’t smell horrible. As you flailed about your hand touched sticky plastic and you realized he’d foolishly only eaten part of a granola bar before zipping it up inside so yay no starvation on this final death ride. After what felt like hours and hours of constant ear splitting noise, good god humans were loud, he grabbed your bag again jostling you further into the bag…again. He’s gonna be lucky if all you give him is a piece of your mind at this rate. If you’re inside a pair of underwear you’ll kill him, ignorant or not. 

You’re bounced onto a mattress and the teeth start opening. 

His hand comes in and grabs. 

You squirm. 

He yells and fucking drops you again.  You glare and bristle your tail, and he stares at you with his mouth open.

This first meeting is going well, so very very well.

[alltheglowingeyess]

i want more, impossible to ignore - ch 12

(i'm not really sure how i wanna post this on here but... another chapter out for my old one-shot rewrites! posted on ao3 here)

“Good morning?”

The greeting comes out more like a question as Jason takes in the absolute rage radiating from Nico. Maybe due to the lack of conviction of his greeting, he gets no reply. Instead, he braces his lunch plate as Nico sits down next to him so forcefully that the table shakes. Percy, unfortunately, did not seem to have the same foresight into what was going to happen, yelping as he desperately scrambles to grab the handful of grapes that have begun to roll away from his plate. If Nico notices the commotion, he does not react. Instead, he pulls his own plate in front of him, summoning what looks to be an absolutely miserable piece of toast and grabbing a few of Percy’s runaway grapes as he starts silently eating.

Instinctively, Jason glances to Percy, the two sharing twin frowns. “What’s his deal”

“No idea. Moodier than usual, isn’t he?”

“Seeing as he just caused a mini-earthquake from rage-sitting, yeah I’d say so. You ask him what’s wrong.”

“Hard pass. He’s less likely to stick his sword through your ear than me.”

“Ugh, fine. That’s fair”

Jason clears his throat, pausing to look at Nico. Despite no sign of acknowledgement, he pops the question. “How’s it going?”

Nico’s left eye begins to tick. Unconsciously, Jason moves himself a few centimeters to the right, hoping that he’s out of any developing kill zones. Silence falls over the table as Percy and Jason watch the son of Hades nibble at his toast like an angry rat for a few seconds. Then, he drops the bread, smacking away some stray crumbs on his hands as he utters two words.

“Will Solace.”

Percy’s eye roll could probably be heard around the world. Jason doesn’t blame him—yes, he’s thrilled that Nico, in his two months at camp, has begun to make friends outside of their immediate questing circle, but gods above. He’s pretty sure he knows more about Will Solace than he does about his own life.

(He’s not sure if that’s more a reflection of the incessant mentions of Will or of the whole memory wipe thing but… the point still stands.)

Still, he humors the other boy. “What did he do this time?”

Nico tears off small piece of his toast, chucking it at Percy who’s in the middle of an over exaggerated yawn. Percy is unfazed by the assault, continuing his stretching with the food now lodged in his hair. “He woke me up this morning. Again.”

He doesn’t give either of them a chance to comment, launching into the story of the dark and twisted ways that Will Solace allegedly ruined his morning. Across the table, Jason makes eye contact with Percy again, and this time he has to bite his lip to stifle a smile. Because really, had it been anyone else trying to wake him up, Nico would have had no issues with sending them back out the door using any means necessary. But this marks the fifth instance of Will Solace not only successfully waking Nico up, but walking away seemingly unharmed and, if anything, pleased with his work.

Cute, Percy mouths across the table. He does a poor job of covering his mouth, but Nico is now so worked up by reliving the morning experience that he doesn’t seem to notice. Jason gives him a small nods, unable to tamp down a grin this time. Neither of them would ever label what Will and Nico have going on as flirtatious or sickeningly sweet to their faces—given that the topic of romance as a whole is still (understandably) a sensitive one for Nico—but it’s fun to watch things unfold regardless. They even started keeping lists of these instances, so that they’ll always have records of how absolutely down-bad it seems Nico is for Will Solace.

He admittedly tunes out a good portion of Nico’s story, mostly because he doesn’t trust himself to both process the story in full and look as affronted as Nico is expecting him to. He deems it safe to turn on his active listening ears though as Nico moves away from the events of the morning and more so focusing on Will’s Standard Aggravating Traits. 

“...least he can do is let me wake up in peace. I swear, I bet he’s trying to make my heart give out or something just so he has an excuse to lock me up in his stupid infirmary again. Which—oh, that’s another thing—how the fuck did he get in my cabin? Did either of you guys have something to do with this? You—Jackson, you’re laughing. Why are you laughing?”

Jason follows Nico’s annoyed gaze to Percy, whose face is now slightly red from seemingly trying to hold back a laugh. He opens his mouth to reply, barking out a laugh before poorly stifling it behind a series of coughs.

“‘M not laughing I, hm.  I just—on your behalf really I’m so…”

Percy trails off as he makes eye contact across the table. The two stare at each other for a solid five seconds before coming undone. And really, it’s not that funny, but between Percy’s poor attempts at deep breathing and Nico cussing them out while whispering about how embarrassing this is can you guys shut the fuck up, Jason can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him.

The cycle of shaky deep breaths and painful laughter continues until finally a voice cut through their barely contained racket. “You guys good?”

Immediately, they manage to quell their laughter, though Jason almost falls apart again when Percy directs a dramatized shushing motion his way. Nico has ceased his complaining and cursing, suddenly incredibly fascinated by the remaining bits of toast scattered across his plate. When it looks like neither of the other boys are going to step up to answer, Jason takes a steadying breath, turning to face the new arrival.

“Will! Hey, man! Yeah, we’re all good. Just—ah, take a seat by the way.” He gestures to the empty spot next to Percy, ignoring the way Nico’s eyes immediately begin boring holes into the side of his head. Will grins at the invitation, sliding down next Percy. He begins drumming his fingers on the table, raising an eyebrow as he does a once-over of Percy. 

“You have some bread in your hair, by the way.”

Percy seems a little slower to recover his social skills compared to Jason, instead opting to give Will a thumbs up as he starts downing the remainder of his orange juice. Will raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push, swiveling his head to suddenly face Nico. Immediately, a broad smile breaks out across his face as he leans forward slightly.

“Hello.”

“No.”

Will seems unperturbed by the amount of annoyance dripping from the single word, reaching a hand over to Nico’s plate. He grabs a small crumb of bread and tosses it Nico’s way. For a son of Apollo, he misses spectacularly. 

“Sooooo, will I see you around the infirmary today? We got two new campers in need of stitches today.”

Will says stitches as though it’s supposed to be a point of intrigue. Judging by the way Nico actually glances up at the statement, Jason thinks it might have worked.

Still, Nico folds his arms defiantly. “You want me to do free labor for you. After you ruined my peace of mind this morning. Again. Third time this week.”

Will waves him off. He starts to lean back, barely catching himself as he seems to remember there is, in fact, no back to the benches they are sitting on. “I am your peace of mind.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Open to interpretation. Now, about the free labor…” Will shoves a hand into a pocket of his shorts, fishing around for a moment before fishing out a beat up wallet with peeling stickers plastered all over. He makes a show out of rooting through it for a few seconds before slamming down its contents, pushing it to Nico.

As he puts away his wallet, Nico glances at offer, unimpressed. “You’re paying me with five dollars, thirteen cents, two sticks of gum, and a…” He frowns, picking up a thin card from the sparse pile. “Is this a business card?”

“Oops, yeah, I’ll just—” he snatches the card back, not before Jason catches a glimpse of Cecil and Will’s names on the front. He has no idea what it could be about, but from what he knows about the two, he thinks he is just fine not finding out.

 “Well? What’s the verdict, nurse? Is this good?” Will asks. Nico makes a face, but nonetheless pockets the offering.

“Fine. But I’m not going to help.”

“That’s fine. I like when you haunt the infirmary. The younger kids listen to me when I tell them you’ll eat their souls or something.”

Nico glares at that, though Jason doesn’t miss the way the corners of his lips flicker upwards. Picking up one of the remains of his massacred toast, he sighs. “I’ll swing by after breakfast. There’s this incessant doctor I know, unfortunately, who insists I sit through this everyday.”

Will’s smile (somehow) grows wider. “Well, he sounds very smart. And charismatic. And hot.”

Jason chokes back at laugh as Nico’s face immediately goes red, throwing the piece of toast at Will. Unlike the son of Apollo, he doesn’t miss, though Will is unbothered by the direct impact of the food to his forehead. “Begone.”

Will snickers to himself as he stands up, giving Nico an over exaggerated wave in reply before sending more normal waves to Percy and Jason. “Well then, nice talking to y’all! Have a good rest of breakfast!”

With that, he heads out the pavilion. The second he is out of sight, Jason turns to stare at Nico. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Percy doing the same. 

Nico finishes up the remaining scraps on his plate before letting out an exasperated sigh, fixing them both with annoyed expressions. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all.”

Rolling his eyes, he throws a quick evil ward off symbol their way before standing up. To both of their delight, they watch as he deposits his plate and immediately beelines in the direction that Will had left. 

“I’m adding this to the list.”

“As you should.”

[eggcompany]

DiaBilly

Billy felt weird. Tired and thirst and hungry. There was just... something weird. Made his head feel funny. He tells Steve that he's fine. And Steve believes him. Until he's getting called at work that Billy's been brought to the hospital. A short story about a LONG road. Diabetic fic from a Diabetic <3

Billy didn’t know why he felt so fucking weird. Not weird like when he first had sex or weird like when Steve Harrington kissed him in the rain behind the high school gym or even weird like when his mom died or when Neil finally left and he got to stay with Susan. He felt like he was drowning in the desert, dizzy and heavy. He just felt… off. His head was slow, his eyes were fuzzy, he was so thirsty and he was always starving, and worst of all he felt like he was.. Fading away. He kept telling himself it was the flu or a head cold, but it wasn’t. It was just weird. 

Steve noticed, of course he noticed they’d been living together for over a year and dating for another. He noticed when Billy started to eat more, catching him in the kitchen eating pieces of bread or entire sleeves of crackers in one sitting. He noticed Billy having to go to the bathroom at every single place they stopped at, the gas station, the grocery store, pulling off the side of the road, at every single bathroom in the mall. He noticed how much soda and beer and water and gatorade and everything else Billy was drinking, triple of what he usually did. He noticed how many times Billy got up at night. He noticed the dark circles around his eyes and how his muscles were shrinking, his stomach sinking in. 

Billy just kept saying the same thing though. 

“‘M fine, Steve. Just tired.” And Steve believed him. For weeks. And weeks. 

Steve was at work, puttering away at the Family Video. He didn’t go to college, Billy was working at the body shop while he got his mechanics certificates so he took part time hours. It was a good combo.

He was wiping down shelves when he got the phone call. Billy was supposed to be working on Eddie’s van, a trade for some pot. It was a normal day, a normal thing, Eddie’s van always needed something done to it and Billy always ransacked Eddie’s record collection, it was an easy thing between them. Steve had left before Billy woke up, getting dressed in their living room so Billy could stay wrapped up in their blankets in the dark. He didn’t think anything of it. 

But one phone, just one, and Steve was lost. 

“Family Video, how can I-” Steve started when the work phone buzzed, hip leaned against the counter, what he was supposed to say memorized. Eddie’s voice cut him off, pithy and cawing as always when he was flustered. 

“Hey Steve, I just had to call 911 for Billy. No idea his name was William, um anyway, he is super sick they’re taking him to the hospital.” Eddie said in a rush. Steve could practically hear him fidgeting but was just frozen. 

“Is he okay?” Steve asked, the words coming from his throat without his brain coming back online yet. Eddie swallowed before answering. 

“No dude, he’s not okay. He was like just standing in my driveway, all red faced like he’d ran a mile, not breathing right, he didn’t know what was going on and then he was puking. His eyes were like… way messed up. Did you smell that like… I dunno, cereal smell on him? You need to go to the hospital ‘cause I don’t think he was even talking when they took him. Um… Hawkins Unity Hospital. That’s where they went.” Eddie said, voice serious as he explained. Steve felt ice cold as he stood there, looking at the front of the empty store. 

He put the phone down, not saying goodbye, not saying anything. He locked the store doors behind him, barely sane enough to grab his keys. He felt… out of his body. He didn’t even know how he drove, didn’t remember getting to his car or anything until he was standing in front of the welcome desk at the hospital, its bright white lights blinding. 

“William Hargrove?” Steve felt weird saying Billy’s name. He didn’t know what else to say to the woman at the desk. He just stared at her, watching her mouth move but he couldn’t hear her. He looked at her for a long time before saying ‘huh?’. 

“Are you Steve? You were on his forms, you can go see him. The nurse is with him right now, she can fill you in.” The lady repeated and Steve nodded, good. Good. He turned to look at the hallways but the lady was saying something else to him. 

“Take the elevator up to pediatrics, he’ll be in room 16B, that’s the ICU room in the endocrinology unit. You can get his intake forms and his paperwork at the nurse’s station up there.” The woman told him and Steve tried to remember it all. Pediatrics, Billy was 19 that’s too old isn’t? What did she say.. Endocrinology? What was that? Broke bones? Brain stuff? Steve felt the elevator stop and the walls were a light blue in the corridor. ICU room… twelve, thirteen, fourteen,

“Can I help you?” A nurse asked as she passed Steve, coming up beside him. He looked around at the doors. 

Suddenly he was right there in the hospital hallway, standing in his shoes, his family video vest still on, looking at a nurse, everything happening around him. It was like a ton of bricks were dumped on him at once. He just wanted Billy. 

“Ha-Hargrove” He said, feeling like he was suffocating, staring at the nurse’s green eyes as she gave him a sad smile. He followed until she reached the room closest to the nurse’s station. He didn’t wanna look, he didn’t wanna see the papers on the door or the board on the wall “Billy” written in blue. 

Steve couldn’t move as he stood just inside the doorway. 

Billy was right there, blonde hair still pulled back in a loose bun, eyes closed, dark lashes perfect against his cheek, blanket pulled up to his collar, bare chested, he looked… Why didn’t Steve see it before? He felt sick as he looked at the way Billy’s collar stuck up, the black rings around his eyes, his sunken in cheeks, the smell. Like nail polish remover. It was so heavy in the sterile air. Steve didn’t wanna look at the IVs, the tubes creeping under Billy’s blanket on either side of him. 

“He’s just resting right now. He didn’t get hurt when he fell down but he’s very sick. You can come sit down.” The nurse that had been sitting nearby in the room, a small desk to the side. Steve walked in, there was a beeping that sounded so loud. Too loud. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from his boyfriend, even as he sat down, he just… looked at him. 

“Are you… Steve Harrington?” The woman asked after a moment, looking at a sheet of paper in front of her. Steve nodded, mumbling an answer. 

“Yes ma’am.” Steve remembered when Billy had gone in to get his senior shots and had to fill out his paperwork. He’d asked to put Steve down as his emergency contact, that he had access to all his medical information. Steve had been tickled and joked that he was going to abuse the power when it came up. He didn’t think it would come up. 

“He’s in diabetic ketoacidosis. DKA, which is a life threatening condition, most people come in sooner. We don’t think he’ll have any lasting effects though.” The nurse explained and Steve turned to her. Dia what?

“It’s an autoimmune condition. The immune system kills off the pancreas, to say in the simplest terms. The pancreas makes insulin, which breaks down carbohydrates that we eat. Carbs give us energy, and it handles much more than that but that is the core idea. Without insulin the blood sugar rises, which causes this.” She said and waved a hand to Billy, breathing easy, resting. Steve didn’t understand. Billy was healthy, super healthy especially after he stopped smoking and drinking as much. 

“We administer insulin to bring down the blood sugar slowly, he gets back into range, his body will heal. However there isn’t a cure. Insulin injections are needed daily to keep the blood sugar levels within range. This is something he’ll deal with for the rest of his life.” The nurse said, her voice cold, solemn. Steve blinked and took it in. Tried to take it in. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Steve said, forcing his jaw to open, the words an effort, every syllable a struggle. He looked at the nurse’s face, staring into her eyes, because he was lost. 

“It will be… It’s not easy. He’ll be back again and again, he has to monitor his every dose, everything he eats. It will not be easy for him. Are you his.. roommate?” The nurse explained before opening a drawer in her desk. Steve nodded as tears welled up in his eyes. How could something so horrible happen? How could- Why would this happen to Billy?

The nurse sat back up and held out two pamphlets. ‘Dealing with loved ones Newly Diagnosed with T1D’ and a second one ‘Living with T1D- Partner’s guide’. Steve stared down at them and looked at the nurse. What’s T1D? He thought. 

“In medical terms what William-” The nurse started but Steve shook his head. That- They shouldn’t call him that. 

“His name’s Billy.” Steve said and looked back at his lover. The nurse nodded and gave another sad smile. 

“Of course. What Billy has is called diabetes mellitus, but it’s commonly known as type one diabetes. T1D, as you’ll see almost everywhere, is the abbreviation. Now, why don’t you read through those while we wait for his next blood draw. Every hour we’re going to be checking his blood sugar with a finger prick, every three we do a blood draw. He can’t eat anything but you’re welcome to go to the family room down the hall, there’s vending machines and coffee. I’ll have you fill out his paperwork once he's awake. Let’s let him rest now, yeah?” The nurse said and stood up, gathering up her paperwork she’d been working on. Steve watched her, looking at the papers in his hands. 

“Come get me or ring the bell if anything happens. A nurse will be in at 2:15.” She said as she left and Steve nodded. He looked back at Billy, waiting till the door was closed to drag his chair right up to the side of the bed. 

He looked down at Billy’s hand, an IV on the top of it, he let the tears slip down his face as he looked at it. Billy hated the doctor. Threw a complete fit, even though he wasn’t scared of needles or blood draws, just hated the smell of it. And he’d hate not being able to eat. He loved eating. Especially lately. 

Steve wiped his face on his vest. He’d clean it if he ever went back to work. He’d have to go back to work. He should call and say he wasn’t going to be in for a while. How long would this last? When was Billy going to come home? When was he going to be… okay again? 

“I can hear you thinkin’ Harrington.” Billy mumbled as his eyes opened. His eyes hurt still. Everything hurt. He’d puked his guts out. Steve looked up at him, eyes all watery, and smiled. Billy felt like shit he couldn’t even appreciate how dorky Steve looked in his uniform. 

“Hey, hey, how do you feel? Are you okay? Comfortable?” Steve asked, not wanting to touch Billy just in case he was hurt, or didn’t want to be touched. He ended up just holding the edge of the bed. Billy took a breath and blinked up at the ceiling. He was cold, his belt was too tight, and he had to piss. He always had to piss these days. And his shoes were still on. 

“I’d make a sex joke but I feel too fucking bad. Can you take my shoes off for me? Belt too. Where’s my shirt?” Billy asked and Steve nodded, moving to the end of the bed, pulling the blanket to the side. Jesus, how’d he not notice the way Billy’s muscles had gone down so badly. He undid the laces of his blue and white sneakers and pushed them under the bed. Billy huffed and looked at his arms, IV in one hand, crook of his other arm. Gross. He watched as Steve flicked open his belt with hands so practiced he could feel a joke at the tip of his tongue, his brain was just… too slow to catch it. 

“There we go! Much better.” Steve said and smiled, trying to be positive but then he looked at Billy, thin and sick in the white sheeted bed, the smell of medicine thick, the smell of sickness even thicker, eyes unfocused and struggling. He couldn’t help as he cried, sobs wracking through him as he fell back into his chair beside Billy. 

“I’m so sorry, baby, I should’ve seen- I should’ve made you come in sooner. I’m sorry.” Steve said as he cried, forehead on the edge of the bed, crying so hard he was sucking in air. There was a hand on his head, fingers in his hair. 

“Quit crying, you big sissy.” Billy said but there was no force behind it. Steve cried until he was done, wiping his face with most of the box of tissues on the bedside. He just looked at Billy after, resolute that he’d make it up to him. To be there as they figured this whole thing out. 

Billy never got sick. He didn’t get colds, he didn’t get the flu, he’d never had chicken pox. So sitting in the hospital for the third day in a row, he was broken down. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t a grisly grown man. He was in the pediatrics department surrounded by nice lady nurses and he was a blubbery mess by day three. 

Steve stayed. He went home once to get some clean clothes for them both, even though Billy kept his shirt off for the IVs. He slept on the shitty chair in the room, he called his boss, he called their friends, he called Billy’s step mom and talked to Max. He read his pamphlets. He read the enormous pink and white book they had highlighted and marked for him. He cried in the family room away from Billy, lying and saying he was making coffee. He talked to an older woman who’s twelve year old daughter was going through the same thing, lamenting that ‘why didn’t we see it’. He ate shitty sandwiches in the cafeteria before going and sitting next to Billy. 

It was around the clock. Every three hours for three days straight. Every hour for three days straight. Billy was exhausted, Billy hurt, Billy had a screaming fit at 6am when a new nurse turned on all his lights when everyone else tried their best to let him get some rest, the lovely sympathetic nurses. He was falling apart at the seams. 

Day three was the worst one they had. Three days they had been slowly thrown into the roaring ocean. Injections with everything you eat, how to see what food has what carbs, what is a carb, what is insulin, how to store insulin, how to calculate how much to take, what happens when you take too much, what to do when you don’t take enough, where to inject, how to inject, what to do when you’re sick, what to do if you get a stomachache, remember to take your medicine, if you need help, ask. 

If you need help, ask. 

Day three was the worst day they had because Billy was on edge, and Steve didn’t know how to help when Billy looked at him, those eyes glittering with tears, no one else around and just whimpered a heartbreaking “Help me”. 

Day four was better. Day four Billy got his IVs taken away. Day four Billy got to eat. Day four Billy got to have a Steve assisted shower, put on clean clothes, and eat. He got to walk to the window and look out at the street below. Day four he got to have visitors since he was dressed. Day four it was every eight hours on blood draws and every other hour on his finger pokes. He was getting pretty good with the finger pricks. He could dial down the lancet, or “poker” as everyone called it, and went on the sides of his fingers which hurt less. 

Steve made an excuse saying Billy was shy around girls so he helped in the shower, making him sit down, his legs a little shaky, and scrubbed his hair, having ran home to bring his hair care and other hygiene products to the hospital. Billy felt a lot better, being clean helped, but his blood sugar was down. He just had to take his first injection. 

“You can have anything you want. For the first six months no concentrated sugars, soda, candy, juice, really sweet cereals, that kind of stuff. After that you can eat whatever you want. We’re gonna let you eat whatever you want now, and then dose you after but after that it’s dose then eat. Got it?” The main doctor, a redheaded woman, explained to Billy as he sat up in his bed, table pulled in front of him. He’d never had a girl doctor before, but he liked her. She was no nonsense but… tender. Steve liked her too. Trusted her. 

“I’d fuc-” Billy started with a toothy smile but she snapped her fingers at him, a finger pointed at his face. 

“Don’t swear.” The doctor said and Steve covered a laugh. 

“I’d kill for a beer and a pizza.” Billy said he almost sounded… hopeful. Looking at the doctor, waiting for her to answer. She huffed and rolled her eyes before cocking her head as she looked back at him. Steve was waiting, pizza was a lot and could Billy even-

“I do not want to see a beer enter or leave this room. Pizza’s fine. Eat as much as you want, I know you’re starving.” The doctor said and left, leaving Billy grinning and Steve with his mouth hanging open. She didn’t say no to a beer? Billy turned to him with a twinkle in his eye, something that Steve hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“She said not to see it. Put it in your pants, I don't care. I want a tall boy and a supreme from pizza hut. Now.” Billy said and Steve was standing up, making sure his wallet was in his pocket. Max would be around after school, he’d be able to pick her up since he knew Susan worked. He checked the door before leaning down to kiss Billy, not missing the sugar smell that was finally cleared away from his breath. 

The nurses came in with Steve, tailing him as he returned with a large Pizza and a paper bag. Billy looked like a rabid dog once he saw the pizza box. The nurses made sure to tell him to keep count of how many slices he ate and if there was anything else he ate or drank. They closed the door behind them. 

Billy ate like, well, a man starved. He ate an entire pizza, drinking his cold beer happily before crushing the can and putting it back in the bag, not before looking at the label, 15 carbs. He sat back in his bed, content and happy, as Steve dampened a tissue to clean his face off, mumbling about being a dog. 

“I love you Steve, you don’t have to watch them do this.” Billy said when he rang his call button. Steve wasn’t a big fan of shots. Steve stood by his bed, holding his hand for a minute. They were in this together. Plus Steve had been practicing on oranges in the family room with some of the student nurses. 

“Nah, I’ve got you. Always.” Steve answered and gave Billy’s hand a squeeze. 

The first one is the worst one, they’d been warned. But Billy was surprised that it wasn’t… Well, it wasn’t bad. He’d had more painful tattoos. The needle was tiny, though the medicine was cold and burned a little in his arm, it wasn’t bad. Steve was relieved because it was easy. Simple math, addition, division. Air in the vial, then draw it up in the syringe, try not to waste any, clean the spot, little poke, done. 

“You’ll have to give yourself one before you leave, but I think this is a good first step.” The nurse had said when Billy rubbed his arm and gave them a thumbs up. Max showed up, letting Billy give her shit for an hour, and left, leaving her radio in her chair without a word. 

Day five was better too, Steve gave Billy his first dose, waiting happily as they got to eat together finally, to-go boxes from the diner in front of them, Max’s radio humming in the corner. It was nice. 

And for the next three days it was pretty good. Especially when Billy finally gave himself his first dose, stuck in the measly fat on his stomach, his first. 

They got lecture after lecture, information overload, reassured that they’ll figure it out as they go because every case, and at once point an older woman came in sat on Billy’s bed with him and told him that she’d been diagnosed only a year after the medicine that kept them both alive was first administered. That had really hit Billy. He relied on a medicine to keep him alive and it had only been around for sixty years. Without it he’d die. And there are people who were there when it was invented, still around today. It made him quiet for a long time. 

Day eight they were told discharge papers would be waiting when they got up in the morning. And they were out of there by noon. A new chapter. 

Steve drove them home, glad to have Billy back where he belonged. He’d gone through the house and deep cleaned it the day before while some of Billy’s friends visited him. He cleaned everything with lemon scented soaps, getting the fruity smell out. He tossed their sodas (gave them to Dustin), candy (Eddie), and anything else that counted as ‘concentrated sugars’. He’d stocked up on snacks, jerky, peanuts, cheesesticks, anything Billy ate that didn’t have carbs. He made sure there was a space for Billy’s medicine in the fridge and a spot in their cabinets for his supplies, containers for his lancets and test strips. 

And they got on with life. Steve went back to work, picking up more shifts. Billy was slowly getting better. He did odd jobs fixing cars, just to help pay the bills. Sometimes it was harder, of course it was. Some nights they were up all night, crying and struggling, Billy cried a lot at night, away from all the eyes, weeping in Steve’s arms because why did it have to be him. Why did this happen to him? And Steve was always there to cry with him, whispering that he didn’t know and that he wished he could take it instead. But in the morning they ignored their puffy eyes and kept going. Going through it all. 

Billy’s sugar high and making him a raging maniac before coming down and making him feel like the worst person who ever lived. Sometimes his sugar went low and became the most vile and hateful person Steve had ever seen only for it to come back up and Billy couldn’t remember any of it. 

They had their fights. Billy not being careful enough, Steve overstepping, Billy doing all he could and still feeling like a failure, Steve unable to help at all. But the thing was about them both. 

They were both stubborn bastards in their own ways. So no matter what, they still huffed and grumbled, sitting together in the doctor’s waiting room. Because there was no one else who got it. It was just them. 

[marwiaft]

Farm era mood board; TLOU.

Baking fresh bread, getting lost in arts and crafts, riding horses through the golden fields, hunting for food in the quiet wilderness—this is what life on the farm is all about, (or at least I wished it was). It's peaceful yet vibrant, like a little piece of heaven on earth. I mean, in the apocalypse, could life get any better?

Every morning begins with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the house, along with the quiet sound of the record player playing old music downstairs. The soft yellow glow of sunlight seeps through the curtains—hand-sewn by Dina and me, a reminder of the quiet afternoons spent chatting and laughing as we worked.

...

Baking has become my little ritual—it's a way to show love and care. The flour-dusted countertops are a familiar sight, and the house is often filled with the warm, inviting scent of fresh bread, pies, or Ellie’s favorite cookies. I’ve perfected the art of kneading dough while chatting with Dina — our laughs mingle together each time.

Caring for the animals is a routine that also brings me so much joy. Feeding the chickens, brushing the horses, and watching over the sheep gives life a peaceful rhythm. Ellie and I often work side by side in the barn, her teasing me about being "too soft" on the animals while secretly slipping the horses extra treats. Time seems to stop for a moment, I can finally breath.

...

In between chores, I find some time to spend with Ellie. In the afternoons, we take walks through the fields, hand in hand, talking about anything and everything. Ellie often has her guitar slung over her back, ready to play a song for me when we find a shady spot to rest. She loves making me laugh with her terrible jokes, but it’s the way she looks at me—soft, unguarded—that speaks louder than any words.

Evenings are my favorite, though. After dinner, when JJ's asleep and Dina’s curled up with a book, Ellie and I retreat to the porch. We share a blanket under the stars, her hand in mine as we trace constellations in the night sky. Sometimes she’ll play her guitar, singing softly, her voice carrying a mix of hope and tenderness that feels like it’s meant just for me. Sometimes, we talk about the future. What we hope for, what we want to build in the farm... or, we just sit in silence, letting the peace of the moment speak for itself.

Life here isn’t just about surviving—it’s about loving, healing, and finding joy in every little thing.

(can you tell the farm era is one of my favorites?)

[gavisfanta]

ICKS - GAVI

summary: part two of the ick trend with you and gavi.

warnings: none

"Okay today we're gonna do a proper challenge since someone had to ruin it." You gave Gavi a side eye while he just laughed. "So, I'd say you can start." You added and looked at your phone recording.

"Okay, so, I get the Ick, when you're hung over." He looked up from his piece of paper and your jaw dropped.

He laughed a bit as he looked at your phone, the display showing you looking at him while sitting next to eachother.

"You're so weird. How is that an ick?" You asked, you were a bit offended.

"I don't know its just you being sick." gavi answered with the same tone.

"But I love taking care of you when you're sick." you smiled and then pushed back a starnd of his hair that fell onto his forehead. "You're like a little baby then." You smiled while you said that in a high pitched voice and Gavi smiled as he kept eye contact.

"I dont know, it's such an ick seeing you sick." Gavi shrugged his shoulders and you then smiled.

"You get the ick and then you come and cuddle me until I fall asleep. Ah yes, makes sense. Anyways-" You repositioned yourself on the couch and then looked at your paper. You however felt Gavi's eyes piercing into your skin as he smiled a bit.

"I get the ick when you burn the food you were cooking." Gavi's jaw dropped as soon as you said that.

"But the last time you laughed!" He said a bit louder.

"Yeah, after I got the ick." You grinned at him while he pushed his hair back and shook his head.

"You're unbelievable." He scoffed but he still kept that small grin on his face. "I get the ick when you're yelling at me for not tying my shoelaces."

With that your jaw dropped. "Why is that an ick? It's normal to tie your shoelaces, otherwise they wouldn't be there!" You mumbled and then Gavi couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're on your knees in front kf me most of the times, you'll have some spear seconds to tie them for me." Gavi smiled and then looked back onto his piece of paper. You just tried to hide that smile that was building itself on your lips but you blushing was impossible to hide.

"Okay good, I get the ick when you ho like 'i dont know what to wear' and then I have to put you together a fit." Gavi said and then you shook your head while you smiled.

"I love your fits tho, it's so not my style but I love them." You answered while smiling at him.

"Do you think people notice?" Gavi asked while pointing to the camera.

"I don't know, ask them" You suggested but Gavi shook his head as he frowned.

"You do that" He insisted and you turned your head to the camera to speak to it. However just before you could speak you heard Gavi say something.

"I'm not that crazy to be talking to imaginary people." Gavi said in a mocking tone but still with a bit of sarcasm and you burst out laughing.

After you calmed down a bit you sat up straight and looked at the camera again. "Okay, comment or send me some dms which fit's you think were designed by Gavi." You explained and then turned to look at Gavi again.

"You know what I love about you?" You asked and obviously caught Gavi off guard.

"Babe we're filming a video of us telling eachother when we get the ick, and now you're just doing the opposite." Gavi threw his hands in the air while you burst out laughing. He just smiled at you while he shook his head.

"I can't help it," You calmed down again. "It's when you do that high pitched voice, when youre mimicking someone."

"Okay, I get the ick whe-" Gavi ignored what you said but you cut him off.

"Hey, it's my turn!" You told him and he remained silent. "I get the ick when you ignore me." You told him and he just wanted to open his mouth. "No, shush, because if I tell you to get some bread on the way home from practice and you can't answer with an okay or i will, and then get the bread anyways, that fucks my brain. Are you too important to answer my request of bread?" You asked and Gavi laughed.

"No it's just that I often don't have time while I drive." Gavi tried to talk himself out of the situation.

"And while you're in the store? Or do you go to a bread drive-in?!" You asked and Gavi shook his head.

"Okay I'm sorry for not answering you." Gavi apologized and you shook your head.

"It's okay." You smiled. "And I think that was enough for today, you wanna add something to the imaginary people?" You turned to face Gavi.

"Play the trailer."