#my shadow boy ♥

[thedemonlady]

Heartsteel Kayn - Wild Rift

[okwonyo]

THE BOY IS MINE, 或 𓈒𓈒 proofs that they are yours.

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 형선 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 3OO fluff established relationship ── non idol au not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀typed all this on pc and did not proofread .. i hope you all enjoy nonetheless ><

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

as his phone’s wallpaper, would have a picture of you that he took in zero point five. would tend to stare at it with a idiotic smile before kissing it.

always would refer to you as his girl— well, more like, ‘my girl’— whenever he talks about you, which is a lot. and would giggle freely when his friends teasingly talk about ‘heeseung’s girl’.

JONGSEONG

would keep a picture that he took at your first date in his wallet fondly. at every anniversary, would renew it and would often stare at it, before putting it close to his heart when he misses you dearly.

would carry himself with a pendant with the first letter of your name on.  which would be the cause of the penury of several shirts with ‘v’ shaped necks— as he would buy about the entirety of them.

JAEYUN

on almost every social media he owns, would have you as his profile pictures. which would always create some rise of confusion when he posts and you would always laugh at the comments asking who runs this account— since he would post you a lot too.

would always get extremely kissy when he has to leave the house without you, leading to a bunch of kisses getting exchanged. wouldn’t even notice the couple of lipstick stain on his face when he walks in the streets.

SUNGHOON

would give you matching jewelry whenever he can. although discreet, the promise ring shining on your ring finger would refrain some from thirsting too much on you— or on him, for that matter.

whenever you are out together, would be attached to your hip. not even in the touchy way, but would just follow you everywhere you go— like your shadow or a watermark. where you are, he would be there too.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[doumadono]

Warnings: pure angst, graphic descriptions of injuries, pregnancy mention, Dabi spiraling into madness while consumed entirely by his thirst for vengeance, a lot of sadness

Synopsis: after the Final War leaves Dabi on the brink of death, you remain by his side, pouring out your love and revealing the secret you never had the chance to share with him before

A/N: this fic was written as my contribution to the weekly challenge in @candycandy00 community ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The air around him was heavy with the scent of ash and smoke.

You stood there, watching as he flicked his fingers, a tiny blue flame flickering to life and dancing across his scarred skin. It illuminated the deep lines and cracks that marred his face, each one a story, each one a wound that had never healed. 

His hair was white now - ghostly, almost - and it only made the darkness in his eyes stand out more. He didn’t look at you. Instead, he stared at the flame as if it held all the answers, as if he could burn away everything that had brought him to this moment.

"Why does it always have to be this way?" your voice was trembling, and you were barely holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “Why does it have to be you?”

Dabi didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, and the light from the flame cast eerie shadows across his face. Finally, he let out a low chuckle, one that held no joy, only bitterness. "You know why," he muttered, his tone void of any hope. "This was always how it was going to end."

You took a step closer, reaching out with trembling hands, desperate to touch him, to feel the warmth that had always been just out of reach. "You don’t have to do this," you whispered, almost pleading. "You don’t have to go. Please. I care about you. You can’t leave me behind like that.”

He finally turned around, his eyes meeting yours. The flame on his fingertip flared, and the moment was gone, replaced by the icy detachment he wore like a second skin. "And then what?" he asked, tilting his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What happens then? I walk away? Pretend these scars aren’t there? Pretend I can forgive? They took everything from me, and they’re going to pay for that."

“Touya…” You dared to use his real name, hoping, praying it would be enough to reach him, to make him stop this madness.

"Don’t," he snapped back. "Don’t call me that. He’s dead. He’s been dead for a long time." He took a step closer, and the heat emanating from his body was already suffocating, but you refused to move, refused to let him push you away. “I’m Dabi now. That’s all there is.”

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head furiously, tears finally spilling over, tracing paths down your flushed cheeks. “You’re more than that. You’ve always been more than that. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you…”

“You’ve seen what I wanted you to see,” he interrupted. 

The dim light of the cave cast shadows that made him look monstrous, and yet, all you could see was the boy he used to be, the boy who had wanted to be a hero. “You can’t save me. No one can,” Dabi added, his voice a tone softer, and it broke your heart because it was the truth he had resigned himself to.

You reached for him, grabbing his wrist, ignoring the searing heat that pulsed beneath your fingers. “I don’t want to save you,” you whispered. “I just want you to stay. Just… stay.”

Dabi’s eyes softened, just for a moment, and you thought, maybe, maybe there was a chance. But then he smiled - a smile so broken, tired, and filled with a sorrow so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. “You deserve better than a monster covered in scars,” he murmured, and your heart shattered.

"I don’t want better," you said, voice shaking. "I want you, Dabi."

He leaned in, and for a heartbeat, you thought he might kiss you, but instead, he rested his forehead against yours. “I wish I could be that for you,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a ghost of a sound. “I really do.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would keep him here, as if that would stop him from slipping away. “Then stay.” You shot your hands to wrap them around his waist, and you stood there, holding him tightly.

But when you opened your eyes again, he had pulled away. He took a step back, then another, until there was nothing but shadows separating you. “Goodbye,” he uttered, and it wasn’t just a word - it was a death sentence, for both of you.

And as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the darkness, all you could do was stand there, surrounded by the cold emptiness he left behind, the echo of his final words burning hotter than any flame.

You stood frozen in front of the flickering television screen in your apartment, the world around you fading into nothingness as the battle raged on, as the flames you had once held so tenderly now roared and consumed everything in their wake. It was pure chaos - heroes and villains clashing in a storm of power and destruction, but all you could see was him.

Dabi stood at the center of it all, white hair whipping around his face like the ashes of a funeral pyre. His flames blazed with an intensity that seemed to consume the very air around him, radiating a brightness so fierce that, for a fleeting moment, he appeared almost ethereal - like a dying star caught in its last throes, desperate to leave a mark before being extinguished forever. But then you saw the pain etched into his features, the way his body trembled, the way his flames wavered, and it hit you all over again - how much he was hurting himself, how much this was costing him.

“Touya, please,” you whispered, voice cracking, as if he could hear you through the screen, as if your words could somehow reach him across the distance. “Please, stop.”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t, and you knew it well. You watched, heart splintering with every second that passed, as he unleashed everything he had against his family - the people who had made him, who had scarred him, who had broken him beyond repair. You watched as his flames collided with the ice of his mother and brothers, with the desperate defenses of his father, and all you could do was stand there, powerless to stop the destruction that unfolded.

Tears blurred your vision, and you sank to your knees, clutching at your chest as if you could somehow hold yourself together, as if you could somehow stop the pieces of your heart from crumbling to dust. “Please,” you sobbed, your voice a strangled whisper, “Please, don’t leave me…”

The news anchors were talking - describing the devastation, the violence, the destruction - but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, pounding in your ears like a death knell, as you watched him burn to his demise, as you watched him fight and bleed and scream, and you felt it - the scars he left on your heart tearing wider, deeper, with every moment that passed.

And then, you saw it.

“No…” The word tore itself from your throat, and you didn’t even realize you were screaming, didn’t realize you were clawing at the screen as if you could somehow reach through it, as if you could somehow pull him back, keep him from slipping away. “No, no, no!”

His body lay still, the blue flames around him flickering weakly, as if they, too, were struggling to hold on. The camera zoomed in, capturing every agonizing detail, and you felt your heart constrict, a scream dying in your throat as you took in the full extent of his wounds.

His skin - what little remained - was cracked and charred, blackened to the bone in places where the flames had devoured him. The once-pale flesh hung in shreds, peeled back to reveal raw, bloodied muscle, and patches of bone that jutted out grotesquely. His right arm was gone, and he was reduced to little more than a skeleton covered with scraps of burnt tissue. Where the flesh had burned away entirely, you could see the tendons and ligaments clinging to his bones, frayed and broken, hanging on by threads.

His ribs, twisted and scorched, pressed against the paper-thin skin of his chest, the bones visible through what remained of the flesh that had once protected him. Each ragged breath he took caused them to rise and fall in sharp, jerky movements, and you could see how parts of the bone were cracked, splintered, as if they might snap with the slightest bit of pressure. His spine, scorched black, protruded from his back, the vertebrae exposed, skeletal.

His face was nearly unrecognizable, a twisted mask of agony and destruction. The skin around his mouth and eyes was entirely gone, leaving only the exposed muscles and tendons. His lips were cracked, blackened, and torn, revealing teeth that were stained red with blood. The left side of his face had burned down to the bone, the flames having stripped away everything, leaving behind nothing but a charred, skeletal visage that made him look more like a corpse than a man.

Blood seeped from countless wounds, dripping from him in a slow, steady stream, pooling beneath his ruined body. It mingled with the ash, the remnants of his own flesh, turning the ground around him into a grotesque, crimson mud. 

Yet still, somehow, his chest moved - barely, but it did - his lungs rattling with each shallow, ragged breath, fighting for every ounce of air as if he could refuse the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

The sight of him - broken, burned, reduced to this fragile state - was more than you could bear.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare, paralyzed by the sight of him lying there, so small, so broken, and all you could think was, “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to stop him.”

You didn’t remember moving. One moment, you were on the floor, and the next, you were running, stumbling out of your apartment and into the chaos of the city, the smoke and screams and sirens drowning out the world around you. You didn’t care. You didn’t care about the danger, didn’t care about the warnings blaring from every television and radio and phone. All you knew was that he was out there, dying, and you had to reach him. You had to be there, if only to tell him that he wasn’t alone.

You reached the barricades, the line of heroes holding back the civilians, and you fought against them, desperate, frantic, screaming his name over and over until your voice gave out, until your throat was raw and bleeding, and still, you pushed forward. “Please,” you begged, clawing at them with all the strength you had left. “Please, I need to get there!”

“We can’t let you there, ma’am, the battle is still on and it’s dangerous…”

But you refused to listen, refused to believe it. You clawed your way past them, pushing a few people violently aside, slipping through the gaps, ignoring the shouts and hands that tried to hold you back, ignoring the pain that throbbed with every step, ignoring the scorching pain within your calves that seemed to slow you down to the point you were barely moving forward. All you knew was that you had to reach him. You had to see him, even if one last time.

And then you were there, standing over him, staring down at the body of the man you loved, and for a moment, the world fell silent. You collapsed to your knees beside him, your hands hovering over his broken form, afraid to touch him, afraid that he would crumble into ashes beneath your fingers. 

His family lay nearby, battered and broken, their bodies bearing the scars of the battle that had nearly consumed them all, just as it had consumed him.

“Touya,” you whispered, and his name felt like a blade slicing through you, sharp and unyielding. You reached out, brushing trembling fingers against the cracked, burned skin of his cheek, and it was so cold, so impossibly cold. 

There was no answer. There would probably never be an answer. As you cradled his head in your lap, the reality of his condition struck you like a blow. What you held wasn't the man you loved anymore - it was a skull, stripped of nearly all the flesh that had once made him human. The skin around his cheeks and jaw had burned away, leaving only the bare bone, cracked and blackened, exposed to the world. His eye sockets, once bright and full of life, now seemed hollow and lifeless, the remaining fragments of skin stretched tightly over his brow. Every part of him felt fragile, delicate, as if the slightest touch might cause him to crumble into dust in your hands. And still, you leaned down, pressing your forehead against his exposed skull, sobs wracking your body, as you whispered words of love and apology, hoping somehow, some part of him could still feel you. You whined silently when you felt the ragged, faint breath that still fought to escape his lungs, and you knew - these were the scars that would never heal, the wounds that would lead him straight to his demise.

And all you could do was hold him, whispering the words you had never been able to say before, hoping, praying that somehow, some way, he could still hear you. “I’m here,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I’m here, Touya. I’m here, and you’re not alone.”

The hospital room was cold, sterile, and far too quiet. 

You stood there, barely able to breathe, as you took in the sight of him - the man you loved, the man who had burned so brightly, now trapped within the confines of a life support system. His body was completely bound, encased in a mass of wires, tubes, and bandages that covered every inch of him. He was barely recognizable, and the sight made your heart shatter all over again.

All that remained visible were his eyes and his jaw - the only parts of him restored after the destruction he had inflicted on himself, and everything and everyone around him. His eyes stared blankly ahead.

You took a tentative step forward, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch the glass that separated you from him. “Touya…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. It was surreal, seeing him like this, as if the world had paused and left you in this agonizing limbo. “I’m here.”

The faint, rhythmic beeping of the machines was the only response you got, and it cut through you like a knife. You swallowed back the tears, your fingers pressing harder against the glass, as if you could somehow reach through it, as if you could somehow pull him back to you.

“They said you wouldn’t make it,” you joked nervously, your eyes never leaving his. “They said you were too far gone. But you fought, didn’t you? You fought, and you’re still here.”

His eyes shifted, focusing on you with a clarity that made your heart skip a beat. Slowly, painfully, you saw his jaw twitch, and then, in a voice so faint, so weak, you almost thought you were imagining it, he spoke. “Why are you still here?” His voice was barely a whisper, raspy and broken, but it was his. 

“I couldn’t leave you,” the words trembled out of your lips, thick with unshed tears. “I couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a painful wheeze, his jaw tightening as he winced. “You shouldn’t have… I’m not… worth it.”

“How dare you?” you snapped, the words tearing from you with the force of a scream. “How dare you say that after everything? After everything we went through? How can you say you’re not worth it?!”

His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, they were filled with something you hadn’t seen in so long - something that looked like fear. “I ruined… everything.”

The words slipped out, fragile and trembling, as tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your flushed cheeks. “You didn’t ruin what we had. You just… you got lost. But you’re still here. You’re still mine.”

He shook his head slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and you could see the agony etched into every piece of his uncovered face. “I can’t be saved.”

“I’m not here to save you,” you remarked fiercely, pressing harder against the glass, as if you could somehow reach him. “I’m here because I love you. I’m here because I couldn’t walk away. And because…” You hesitated, your heart pounding, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you. “Because there’s something you need to know.”

His gaze sharpened, confusion flickering in those eyes you had loved so much, the eyes that had once been so full of life. “What is it?”

Swallowing hard, a trembling hand drifted to the curve of your abdomen as you forced the words out, each one a dagger plunging deeper into your heart. “I’m pregnant,” you confessed, voice quivering. “I found out right before you left. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to listen to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard, that your words hadn’t reached him. But then the steady beep of his heart rate monitor began to spike, echoing frantically in the small room as his pulse rose. And then you saw it - a tear slipping down his bandaged cheek, his mouth opening and closing, as if he were trying to speak but couldn’t find the words. “No…” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Because you didn’t listen!” you cried, your voice breaking. “You wouldn’t stop! I tried to make you stay, but you were so consumed with your pain, fury and vengeance, and I couldn’t save you from that.”

“I failed you,” Touya whispered, his voice cracking, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, the man who had once stood unflinching before the world, now reduced to this broken, shattered soul. “I failed our family.”

“No,” you stated, shaking your head furiously, the glass cool against your forehead as you pressed closer, desperate to be near him, to make him understand. “You didn’t fail. You can still come back. You can still fight. For me. For us.”

“I’m too tired,” he burbled, and his eyes drifted closed, his chest rising and falling with the effort of breathing, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a battle. “I don’t want to hurt… anymore.”

You let out a broken sob, your shoulders shaking, your fingers splayed against the glass as if you could somehow hold him together, keep him from slipping away. “Then don’t,” you begged. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave us. Stay, Touya. Please, stay. I need you. Our baby needs you.”

His eyes flickered open one last time. “I love you,” Touya breathed, the words barely more than a breath, but they were there, they were real, and they seared themselves into your soul.

And then, just like that, his eyes closed, and his breathing evened out, and you were left standing there, holding onto the glass, holding onto him, as the machines continued their relentless, mechanical rhythm. He drifted off yet again. His body was so exhausted he could only speak for a couple minutes per day before reaching his limit.

And all you could do was choke out, “I love you too, Touya. We love you so much,”" although you recognized that he had succumbed to unconsciousness and was beyond the reach of your voice.

[hxjikonn]

Could I request Vil, Rook, Kalim, Idia and Jamil with an s/o that speaks their (the boys') native language when flirting?

A/n: This idea is rlly cute but a small warning y’all, I do not speak German, French, or Arabic😭💀 I’m gonna be using apps, websites, and google translate to help me so if you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me, that would be VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! Also I’m sorry I had to cut this to 4 characters only ;-; I’ll try to add Idia’s one in a separate post if I have time!

(@/l1ttleclouds helped a lot with the french, @/hivequeenb33 for the corrections in german and @/sugary-bluebell for the corrections in Arabic tysm🥹♥︎)

——————————————————————————

Say that again…

☆Staring☆: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Kalim Al Asim, and Jamil Viper

Synopsis: Their reaction to GN!Reader flirting using their native language.

Warnings/Heads up: I do not speak any of these languages and am using translators, it might be cringe cuz I’m using phrases off google💀😭

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was stressed about a photoshoot, usually he loves them, the flashes of cameras, praises from the photographers, people crowding around him to make sure everything is perfect, and the clothes. But as of now he’s frustrated because of Neige Leblanche stealing his spotlight, people praising him just sounded like noise in Vil’s ears.

You watched him fumble around his vanity mirror, fixing his hair, retouching his eye shadow, “Can you believe it potato? I was the only one who’s supposed to have a photoshoot today, then he came, ugh suddenly everyone’s attention was on him…” he said the tone of bitterness lingers in his voice.

“My attention isn’t” you pouted, walking up behind him. He expression softens, this only happens with you, he picks up another make up brush but you stopped it with your hand, slowly putting it down “Put it down…” you said “I’m not done potato I need to look-“ “Liebling, Du siehst umwerfend aus” you interrupted him and kissed his cheek

He froze, blinking a couple of times and snapping his fingers making sure he was awake… “What did you say?” He looked back at you, spinning his chair to see you better, you giggled “I said you looked stunning” you were about to walk away but then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back “No that wasn’t what you said…” he replied “It was!” You defended “Yeah but not that way…” he stood up in front of you “Say that again…” he stared down at you softly…anticipation bubbling in him…

“Liebling…” you started, “Du siehst umwerfend aus” You finished pecking his lips right after earning a smirk from him. He completely forgot that he was mad at something… “see? you don’t even need the blush” you teased pointing out the fluttering pink painted on his cheeks….he chuckled “oh is that so? Well…I think you need a little color on your lips…” he cupped your face as he bent down slightly to kiss you. “Vil! You’re up!” the photographer called out, Making him pull away as he rolled his eyes “Ugh…wrong timing” he half yelled

You laughed softly, “Go…” you motioned him to leave you for now, he smiled “Alright, hold on, let me just reapply my lipstick” he called out, still looking at you, your lips now tinted with the lipstick he put on earlier…you placed a featherlight kiss on the back of his hand as a form of an unspoken ‘good luck’ and he replies with a smile squeezing your hand before he lets go and walks to the photoshoot while applying lipstick.

Needless to say he did very well even if there was a photo where he and Neige had to be in one shot, when he sees you watching in the background, remembering what you said to him, he doesn’t even care anymore. He has all your attention, and he knows it.

Rook Hunt

It was sunset, and you two were still practicing, you couldn’t let yourself give up without hitting that red dot in the middle of the target…he readjusts you posture again…lifting you arms slightly, as he looks forward to see if the angle is right, while his hands rested on your waist…

No wonder you couldn’t hit the damn target…Rook is a very distracting teacher…he noticed that since you lost your aim again…he adjusted it back, tilting the bow upward a little with one hand…while his other hand still rests on you waist. “Mon amour, Concentre-toi…..” he whispered slightly teasing you of course, he knows what he’s doing.

“J'aimerais bien, mais tu es trop distrayant” you whispered back firing the arrow, he was caught off guard, staring off into the distance in shock, as your arrow hits the target he snaps out of his trance. “YES!” you cheered “I DID IT!! SEE???” You pointed happily to the arrow that pierced through the red dot on the target, excitement coursing through your veins.

“Mon ange….” He called out to you while slowly walking towards you “Did you just speak french or was I just too hypnotized by your beauty that I started hearing things?” He asked, you giggle and cupped his face… “Oui, je parlais français..” And kissed his nose, he felt like he was shot by cupid once again, Rook Hunt, was love-struck…

“Oh mon Dieu! I think I fell in love with you all over again” he said to you while also cradling your face in his hands…you swore you almost saw hearts in his eyes, he pulled you close to him as he leaned in to kiss you “AGHHH CAN YOU TWO KISS LATER I’M HUNGRY!!! Y/N PROMISED ME TUNA WHEN THEY FINALLY HIT A BULLSEYE” Grim shouted…

You both broke into a fit of laughter, “Awww poor kitty” you went to Grim and teased him scratching behind his ears “Stopppp!! I’m a powerful mage you know???? I can set you on fire!!” He said while swaying his paws back and forth to shoo you away “Monsieur Fuzzball is hangry, we should get him his promised tuna” Rook said while picking up the arrows on the grass and putting it back in his arrow quiver.

“Yes! Yes you should do that right now! Then you two can kiss for the rest of the day and I wont bother you, sound good?” Grim negotiated “Yes that would be quite pleasant Monsieur Fuzzball” Rook laughed as he grabbed you hand “We’ll go get it right away, won’t we Mon amour?” Rook said to you, you knew he was a little upset that he didn’t get to kiss you so you chuckled and nodded “yes.”

“GREAT! Now stop making googooly eyes at each other and lets go!” Grim shouted as he ran, thrilled by the tuna he has yet to receive. You two laughed and followed behind him, hand in hand.

Kalim Al Asim

You are fighting for your life right now…Kalim clinging on to your waist stopping you from walking out of Scarabia’s doors as he weighs you down while you drag your and his weight attempting to leave.

“Kalim I have to go” you said clutching on to the door frame “Why??? Scarabia is much more comfy than Ramshackle just stay with me” he whines, “Grim’s gonna go hungry, can you live with yourself if my cat dies of hunger??” You guilt tripped him, hoping he’d let you go.

“I’LL ASK JAMIL TO BRING GRIM HERE JUST PLEASE DONT LEEEEAVVEEE” He practically yells as he begs for you to stay “I’ll come back to tomorrow…” you got tired and plopped on to the floor as he further tightens his hold on your waist, burying his face on your lap, “I’ll go a whole night without you here, if you can sleep knowing that than do I even matter to you??” He dramatically says, muffled because he still has his face on your lap.

You sighed and ran your fingers through his hair… “ ‎أَنتَ تَعني الكَثير لي حبيبي (You mean so much to me, my love)” you softly whispered to him, he looked up at you, letting go of your waist and sitting up right to meet your eyes. You were smiling at his expression.

A pigmented flustered hue shyly shows up on his cheeks and his eyes were filled with a whole rollercoaster of emotions, you let out a small laugh and a pecked his lips to bring him back from the love struck void he was falling into

“Kalim? You there?” You asked chuckling while cupping his face with both your hands, “Marry me.” He blurted out without warning, you stiffen for awhile not expecting that, but you saw his eyes twinkling and you burst out laughing earning a pout from him.

“I’m sorry you just looked so cute أميري (my prince) ” you apologized, he felt like melting, He crawled his way back into your arms, nuzzling into your neck, he could feels like his heart could beat out of his chest at this point. “Now you really cant leave…not after you said all that.” He protested.

You sighed in defeat, “Okay…Alright…I’ll stay…” you said, playing with his hair again “Forever?” He asked “For the night, Kalim, I can’t move out of Ramshackle” you laughed “I will marry you one day yknow?” He said, “I know” you answered kissing the crown of his head. “أحبكِ (ily)” he says to you, “أنا احبك (ilyt)” you say back to him.

Jamil Viper

It was a normal day for you two, well to be honest a “normal day” is rare in NRC, with Jamil having to deal with his responsibilities to Kalim, and you being Crowly’s erand runner, you two rarely have time to see or spend time with each other.

Right now though is different, for once you two had somewhat of a day off, Kalim went back to his hometown to attend an event for the royal family, and Crowly surprisingly didn’t have anything for you today. It was nice…you two sitting in a couch, your back against his back and he has an arm on you shoulder

Both of you are each reading a book right now, it’s quiet, not much words are exchanged but it’s fine you two liked the peaceful silence for once. You’ve just finished yours and you plopped it down your lap with a contented sigh. “You finished it?” He chimes, not looking away from his book, “Yup! All done, you?” You stared up at him “Just 4 more chapters” he said focusing on his book, you just hummed in reply, not wanting to disturb him further.

You shifted you position and laid your head on his chest and he lets you get comfortable again, his other hand tracing circles on your back as you played with the ornaments near the ends of his braids. Your gaze slowly found it’s way back up to his face again, though he feels your stare, he doesn’t really mind but the corners of his lips lift a little.

You admiring you boyfriend and suddenly remembered that one phrase you asked Kalim to translate for you ‎“أَنتَ وَسيمٌ جِدّا حبيبي (you’re so handsome my love)” you mumbled, you were just trying to remember what Kalim said the translation was so you weren’t aware of speaking it outloud.

It hasn’t really registered in his head yet either, so he continues to read his book, “شكرا لك حبي” (thank you, my dear)” he replied simply…you blinked and realized you said it outloud, but you’re happy he heard it so you hummed back happily snuggling into his warmth, but when he heard you hum he finally caught up with what you said earlier

He slowly puts his book down as your words sink into his brain, you looked up at him again questioningly this time “You’re done already? I thought you said there was 4 more cha-“ “Love what did you say just now?” He abruptly cuts you off putting a hand on your cheek looking down at you “I was asking if you were done with your book?” You said confused, “No no before that…” he anticipated your answer…

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, you knew what he was talking about, you thought he fully heard you but his expression seem to say otherwise. You smiled up at him and kissed the palm of his hand that was cupping your cheek

“All I said was, ‎أَنتَ وَسيمٌ جِدّا حبيبي (you’re so handsome my love)” you repeated it to him “I thought you heard it cuz you said thank you after” you added giggling.

He huffed in amusement, “Well there goes my book…” he says while putting the book away “what do you mean? you can still read” you said to him, he smiled, pulling you closer to him with his other arm that rested on your waist “No I don’t think I can, you have all my attention now” he mumbled, a soft blush dusted his cheek, an effect from your compliment to him earlier “You’re blushing~” you teased poking his cheek, he chuckled and inched his face closer to you

“Yeah? You don’t say?” He asked sarcastically before kissing you breathless, once he pulled away you were the one blushing, he grins at the sight “there, now we’re even.” He teased as you hit his chest lightly and hide your face in the crook of his neck while he laughs at your expense, you two continued teasing each other for the rest of the day.

A/N: you know the drill: NOT PROOFREAD LMAO 💀 THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE ANON I KNOW THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO POST ;-;

Edit: WTH TYSM FOR 1K 🥹♥︎

[turtleybeachin]

The Boys Trying to Help with a Menstrual Cycle

Has this been done? Sure. Am I writing it anyway at 2:30am with a mug of mulled wine? Hell yes I am.

(content warning: discussion of menstrual cycle products. MC has a menstrual cycle and vagina but no gender assigned. involves demon men being pretty oblivious but honestly not worse than human cis men.) *edited, thank you to the anon who pointed out my mistake. ♥

Mammon's the one texting to ask "yo human what size is. ... hey what size your ... ... ya know. ... how big is your ... ... it's cool no matter what size ya know all sizes are great you're perfect no judgement just. .... small medium or large????"

Satan is like "You can't ask a person what size their vagina is you moron." He's read enough about the issue at hand to know these are flow levels not vagina sizes anyway. Still not sure which to get though. Buys one of everything better safe than sorry.

Lucifer rolls his eyes confidently picks up the most expensive package of regular pads and regular tampons. Looks like he knows what he's doing. Is 100% faking it.

Beelzebub's worried about the flavor of the tampons. Won't lemon be unpleasant when they're already in pain? Those look like probably key-lime pie which sounds good. He'll buy two packs, one to sample on the way home. (he's distressed to report they don't taste like anything the colors are lies.)

Asmodeus goes straight for whatever has been popping up the most ads or getting the most discussion on DevilGram. Only the cutest and trendiest for his favorite human!!! Also gets you some cute underwear gotta dress up your time of the month~

Leviathan's just having a complete panic attack feels like other people are staring and judging him THESE AREN'T FOR ME, THEY'RE FOR MY-- errr, I mean, not my r-really, but... m-maybe sorta my-- OH MY DIAVOLO I'M BEING SUCH A NORMIE I'M BUYING PADS FOR SOMEONE THIS IS LIKE IN THAT ONE ANIME--

(Don't worry, after a text from them cheering him on and thanking him for being the perfect Lord of Shadows to their Henry he Demons Up and buys five of everything because DAMN STRAIGHT HE'S TAKING CARE OF HIS HENRY BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE.)

Belphegor just picked up the squishiest package and that's what they're getting. If these don't work for them, at least it'll be a decent pillow in a pinch.

Bonus:

Solomon is the one competent man in the whole gaggle. He actually knows what menstrual flows are and whether MC prefers pads or tampons, because he asked, because he knows these things. Is the only one to actually know what he's buying.

Diavolo has Barbatos send them a year's supply of absolutely every menstrual product either of them could find anywhere in both the Devildom and Human Realm. Congratulations on the storage facility now in their name that has two lifetimes' worth of menstrual supplies.

Simeon just asks. That's it that's the whole shtick. He just asks specifically which they need and admits he doesn't know much about these products but is willing to learn. He'll text them photos from the store but also offer to go somewhere else if none of that looks right.

[shuenkio]

Pov: Tsundere 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Enhypen ᯓᡣ𐭩

Genre: Fluffy

Pov: Tsundere enhypen

Paring: Enha X male!reader

Do not copy my works (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

Heeseung: In the third pov, he's the type of secret admirer, who's possessive, very jealous, and wants you to look at him only. whenever a guy or girl is near you, he's always at the crime scene, standing towering behind you, giving your friends a free dead stare, watching you closely while you are talking to your bff, And you don't even know about his presence in your shadow. He likes to walk you home even when you don't need him to and often gives you a strange signal every time. When you ask him, did he has a feeling toward you he just replies with a simple "Nope" However his actions speak in a different language as away the next day after you ask him. "No one can have you when I'm still breathing yeobo :) "

Jay: The principal's son is a walking fire in the school. He's cocky, flirty, hot temper and loves bully to those who are bad talk about him, only an appropriate is a pass. As soon as you transfer to this school, you draw his attention very quickly, because as the bully he is, he already got bored with the same victims and decided to give you some warm love instead. On the other hand, he's walking to his trap, he realizes that the moment you greet him with a short "hello" his heart almost gets shattered by your soothing voice. Your energy just brings him inside out, even though you're a guy but just by your existence alone, cast an unknown spell on him. Which makes him look awkward-cack-handed handed everytime he sees your face. "S-shut up! You failed the experiment who said I like some poor thing like you...or did i? "

Jake: The nerd guy who likes sports might be talkative to his friends but for you, it's different. Sometimes he likes to give you a hard time while sometimes he gives you a butterfly in your stomach. So confused yet so adorable. Over time, when it's a sports exam day, your p.e teacher assigns you to his team since you're bad at sports. Luckily you know how to play basketball too but not very good at it that much. It's the last match of the basketball game, sweaty, hot, and exhausted but you still keep your head on. This is the only chance to prove to Jake that you're useful too. The ball then passes to you, and you quickly run to the other team's goal, aiming for the net, with a piece of blessed luck you make it but during that time you're knocked by the other team member accidentally. You fall to the ground, slightly nosebleed, before blacking out on the spot. Jake saw you're blackout on the floor, immediately ran to you before lifting you in a bridal style, and sprinted to the nurse's office. later on, when you're awake with a band-aid on your face, you see Jake sitting beside you, watching you sleep. You're about to ask him what happened but he cuts you with "Do not try to impress me again like that, you're weak and y'know it. Just show your face every day is e-enough >:( "

Sunghoon: Laterally he enemies with you, all you do is breathe, still he got those headaches whenever you stand in his shadow. Try to act all cool and mysterious every day so you'd think he doesn't want to talk to you and avoid it at all costs. However deep down, he's watching your every move, secretly taking care of you, giving you the answers during the exam on purpose, nevertheless, you never knew he was doing it on purpose, he's more than happy that you never found out about his suspicious behavior. One day when walking back home, you got bullied by some bunch of bullies, boy didn't spare more time before jumping on them one by one, leaving them on the ground, blacked out. You were scared, bleeding and scratching your face. He then leans closer on his knee to check on you. You asked, your voice is shaking. "Wh-what are you doing here?" - "Shhh everything is okay now, let me take you home!" He ruffles your hair gently before giving you a piggyback to take you home.

Sunoo: This boy is so bad at acting all tough and mean, you know he's just doing it because you thought he wanted to look cool. However, he's still didn't treat you the same as his friend. He hates it when you're in a group project with him, talking to his friends, Don't fear him, and treat him as one of your friends when he does it opposite which somehow makes him feel slightly guilty. This action of his got the best of him when you're not in the class he'd put a snack under your desk almost every single day because he was scared to talk to you, too scared to say sorry and wanna be your friend or even more than a friend? During one fine evening, he asked you to meet him at the school's garden for some serious discussion about a project you both needed to do, it's sound not like a joke to you so you went right away. Once you arrived, you asked him what was wrong. He turns to face you with his tears streaming down his cheeks. He got on his knee and asked for your forgiveness out of a sudden. "Please M/n, I can't take it anymore, let's be friends again no-- I want MORE THAN A FRIEND THIS TIME, I LIKE YOU ALL ALONG-- why don't you know about it?"

Jungwon: A really hot temper one, can't say if both of you are friends or not because sometimes he's sweet and sometimes he's harsh as hell. Randomly staring at you in class non-stop which makes you very uncomfortable. One time during lunch break, when you were going to buy the strawberry milk, it was out of stock the moment you were about to buy it. you've been craving for those the whole day but now it's out? Ruin your lunch mood for real. He saw you wanted that strawberry milk so bad, he decided to walk to you and give you by himself and leave the canteen unspoken any words. Give you a dumbfounded moment. Your friends started to tease you after this scene happened from this day. As the day went on, he started to act more nice and lovely to you, as if he never shouted at you back then. You were stressing out that it could burn your brain until you chose to ask him the moment you saw him somewhere. "Why did I act all nice to you? Are you dumb or an idiot? Do you think I put zero effort before I make you mine?"

Ni-ki: Can't describe this boy how much he hated you the moment you walked into the classroom and introduced yourself. What's worse is the teacher assigned you to sit next to him, he just wants to murder someone on the spot but he can't do anything about it. Time is walking, he hated you but now, after spending some time observing you, he realizes you're just a shy person, everything you do is so soft and gentle, making him wanna swallow you and hide you inside his pocket. It's a pepero day, the day everyone exchanges the chocolate-coated cookie sticks with their friends or loved ones. The whole school is full of students who exchange chocolate together, even the teachers do this. Ni-ki get this opportunity to tell you his true feelings today after he developed a crush on you for a long time, so he decided to give you one while you talking to your friend. "Aww the bad boy give me a pepero, what's makes you want to do this?" You asked while giggling in a good way ofc. He stays silent for a second before finally speaking his mind. "Be my boyfriend dumbass, I can't stand seeing everyone having a crush on you from now on"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

Please do not copy my works (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

[haunted-headset]

fave quotes from the new Sorry Boys video

sometimes i accidentally tap the ball & like her posts 😔

its like Frogger but with a bit more ✨funk ✨ to it

i fUCKING need to watch another ad 😖

✨👑 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓼, 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓿𝓲𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓻 👑✨

an impotent, sterile, cAn'T cUm squire

I-ii--i-i-i-i-i--i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i

dyark myage??!??!?!?!?!

what. the flip 😝

in your ✨cyastle✨

"shadow fucker 💋🎀💄💌✨🩰"

you killed my mother 😒

"*Wilbur speaking in a bad American accent at all times*"

i am more than just a boy who shits & fucks & cums!! ✨💃🎵

shut up bitch 😝🔥‼💪

let go of me you whore!!!!! PISS!!! 😤😡

excelsior! ♥🩰💄💌🎀💋💕😘🤭🧸

& father, with your ✨ indomitable piss kink ✨

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

add some more if u want

@vopixx @zuuriell @ax-y10 @ogelizasoot @strangleetomz

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 2

Warnings: dark elements to come. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for reading and any thoughts you have.♥♥♥♥

Lee has Raquel on his arm as you’re on her other side. He nods at the other bouncer as you emerge into the night chill. The man is even bigger than the one helping you, with a dark trim of hair along his lip.

You follow Lee to a dark car parked around the side of the building in an employee spot. He gets Raquel into the front seat and buckles her in. You watch as he lifts her head and tries to peel back her eyelids to check her pupils. He sighs.

“You young ones like your sambuca,” he shakes his head as he stands straight and shuts the door gently, careful that she’s full inside. “Most of ya.”

As he looks at you, you bounce on your toes and give a sheepish smile. “Thank you, sir,” you squeak, ears still buzzing from the blast of music in the club, “um, er…”

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” He asks, “you good in the back seat? You don’t get car sick or nothing?”

“No, sir, um,” you play with the loose hem of your blouse, “um, do you still have my phone?”

“Ah, shoot,” he pats his pants pockets, “I knew I was forgettin’ something.” He searches, feeling around and finally his deep blues eyes spark. He smirks crookedly and reaches into his chest pocket, “sorry ‘bout that, sweet thing.”

He hands it back and you accept it with a quiet thank you. He puts his hand on the roof of the car and stares at you. What do you do next?

“I didn’t get your name, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” You open your eyes wide, “yeah, uh…”

You give your name as he listens intently. He repeats it back to you, as if feeling it on his tongue. “I get that right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “er, should we…”

You peek through the window at Raquel and he shifts to look over his shoulder. He nods and pivots.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sooner your friend lays down, sooner she’ll sober up.”

He strides around the front of the car and you get in the back seat. You clutch your phone tightly and check the time. It’s late! You don’t stay up very much, even on weekends.

The car dips beneath his weight and he settles in, turning the engine as he checks the mirror. He grips the shifter and pauses, glancing back at you through the shadows.

“All buckled up, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

“You know, I’m no sir, you don’t needa do all that,” he chuckles as he slowly leans on the gas.

“I’m sorry, s– Lee,” you correct yourself.

“It’s fine. No reason to be sorry,” he coaxes as he turns out of the lot, “how about some music? You like music?”

He flicks on the radio as he keeps one hand on the wheel. Bruce Springsteen flows from the speakers but he’s quick to change the station. He pushes buttons until he lands on the poppy tones of the latest top ten.

“Ah, I know this one,” he says proudly, “don’t mind it much at all. You like it?”

You listen but don’t recognize the song. You’re a bit lame, not knowing the names of whatever new hits Raquel plays on her bluetooth.

Can you kiss me more? We're so young, boy We ain't got nothin' to lose, oh, oh It's just principle Baby, hold me 'Cause I like the way you groove, oh, oh

It’s not bad. You like the rhythm of it. It’s upbeat and happy, if not a bit explicit. You don’t think it’s really his taste but you suspect he’s just trying to be nice.

“Yeah, it’s fun,” you finally say something.

He bops his head slightly as you look out the window. Your eyes flick up the mirror on the passenger side door and you watch Raquel slowly slump against the interior. You really hope she’s okay. She comes home drunk but you’ve never seen her like this.

The ride is quicker than an uber, maybe because the traffic has died down. He pulls in behind your building and you get out before he can. He comes around and opens the door. You can only stand by as he undoes the seatbelt and takes her out of the passenger seat.

“Show me the way,” he says as he turns to you, closing the door with his elbow.

“Oh, yeah,” you scramble for your keys and turn to lead him.

He trails you and waits just at your shoulder as you unlock the front door. You hold it open for him. He steps inside and stops, peering around with a sense of cluelessness. He lets you sidle around him toward the stairs.

He follows you up several flights to your floor. You feel bad. He’s carried her all this way. He even drove you home. It is a bit much and more than you deserve. You really don’t know if you could’ve got Raquel back on your own.

You open the door to your shared dorm and let him through once more. You point him to the couch and go to place a pillow by the armrest before he sets her down. He lays her over the cushions carefully. Despite his appearance, he’s been very nice. To both of you. He turns her onto her stomach and angles her head outward.

“You’ll wanna keep her on her belly case she needs to spit up some of that alcohol,” he says, “might wanna get something for that.”

“Sure, uh, thanks,” you wring your hands as you stand awkwardly by the end of the couch, “I appreciate it. I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how she got like that.”

“I’ve seen worse. You know, not many friends I know would come all the way down to help like that? I got girls left in the bathroom with their heads in the toilet. Pretty sad world, huh?”

“Oh, wow,” you eke out, “that’s… terrible.”

“Yeah, I do my best to help ‘em but can only do so much, you know? I’m glad I could help ya out. You walked up looking so lost… gotta be honest, it was cute. Little darling like you with your pretty flowers.”

You look down at your blouse. You could laugh at yourself. You probably did look like a dweeb waiting in line.

“Uh, yeah, well, I… really appreciate all this. I, er, wish there was a way I could repay you. Um, I could… give ya some money for gas, I might have a ten–”

As you grab at your purse he snorts and waves you off, “don’t do all that. It’s just fine, sweetheart. You take care of your friend. And yourself. Alright?”

“Erm, yeah, I can do that,” you squeeze your purse as you look up at him.

“Y’all have a good night and don’t forget to lock your door,” he tucks his hands in his pockets and slowly turns on his heel. 

You watch him cross back to the door and he pauses. He seems lost in thought as he bows his head and angles just slightly so you can see his profile. He raises his chin and peeks over at you.

“If ya really wanna make it up to me, I… I’d love to take ya for some ice cream. One day? You like ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” You wonder, “uhhhhh, I like ice cream, yeah.”

“Alright,” he accepts with a grin, “I put my number in your phone if ya wanna let me know when you’re free.”

“Oh, you did?”

He rubs his neck and chuckles, “hopeful thinking. But uh, yeah, it’s there.”

“Uh, thanks,” you’re not sure what to say, “I– good night.”

“Yeah, yeah, have a good one.”

He faces the door again and pulls it open. He lets himself out and you quickly skirt over to turn the latch, just like he bid. As your hand lingers on the lock, you can’t help but wonder how he knew where you live. He never asked.

[airbendertendou]

for the wrapped, 12 for mitsuya please! ill leave the genre up to u, feel free to fit it to the vibe/theme of the song! (if it's possible, please avoid angst though...😭)

tooth-rotting number 12 + mitsuya takashi

"AMONGST THE SHADOWS, MY LOVE, YOU ARE THE BRIGHTEST SPARKLE!"

curled up on the couch with your favorite snack and drink, you're oblivious to the look mitsuya gives you. draken snorts from beside him, shoving the purple-haired boy. "focus, kid."

"kid?" mitsuya mumbles. he scowls before dropping his eyes to the cutting board again -- it isn't long until his gaze is back on you. emma plops onto the couch beside you, tugging the blanket you wear teasingly. "we're the same age, punk. i am focused."

you throw your head back in a laugh at whatever emma says and mitsuya feels his breath catch in his chest. you look etheral ; angelic as you grin and your cheeks cause your eyes to scrunch. draken rolls his eyes, "hey-!"

"taka, do you two need help in there?"

mitsuya gulps at the name, his body sagging and relaxing immediately. draken's bottom lip curls into his mouth as he tries to hide his laughter. your face is hidden by the couch, only your eyes peering up at them curiously. emma copies your position, her shoulders shaking with laughter. you tilt your head, "takashi?"

"all good, love," he breathes out. mitsuya fights the urge to hit draken - fights the urge to call you every sweet name he knows. dove, the light of my life, angel, my baby, baby, baby. mitsuya gulps before smiling tensely, "almost done. promise."

the sound of boiling rice covers the laughter peeling from draken's lips. emma grins at you, "what a smitten boy you have, hm?"

——♥︎—— ive been reading sanji fics, can you tell <3

request your own here ♡ read more

[satlun]

page 𝑜ne out of 𝒻our ♥︎ spell book

my 𝒸haracter 𝒶𝒾 account

❤︎ 𝒷ots

In case some of my bots don't show up on the application or website due to shadow banning.

Alain Laubrac from Mixte 1963/ Voltaire High

Bill Harford from Eyes Wide Shut

Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things

Edward Cullen from Twilight

Enoch O’Connor from Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

Jacob Black from Twilight

Jean-Pierre Magnan from Mixte 1963

John Constantine from Constantine (2005)

Joseph Descamps from Mixte 1963/ Voltaire High

Karen Wheeler from Stranger Things

Keith Toshko from Barbarian

Kevin Lomax from The Devil's Advocate

Marquis De Gramont from John Wick: chapter 4

Ray Singleton from The Magic of Ordinary Days

Tommy Slater from Fear Street

Trip Fontaine from The Virgin Sui

❤︎ 𝒻ictions

one shot

Best Mistake: John Constantine x fem!reader

Sky Fall: John Constantine x fem!reader

Lust: John Constantine x fem!reader

Seduced in Blue: Tom Ludlow x fem!reader

Birthday Boudoir: Tom Ludlow x fem!reader

Unspoken Truth: Don John x fem! Reader

Vacation Boy: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Deadly Nightshade: Kevin Lomax x fem!reader

The Deep End: John Constantine x fem!reader

Forsaken: Priest John Constantine x fem!reader

❤︎ 𝒽eadcanon

johnny Utah as your older brother

[thedemonlady]

Heartsteel Kayn in "Paranoia" (1/2)

[ppushable]

just us.

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 9.4k

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

It's the last summer of high school and it's time to grow up. Too bad I have to do it without you.

Nights like this I wish could last forever: just us in the rain.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

FUCK / Alternate Universe - High School / or the tail end of it / Reader-Insert / gender neutral reader / How Do I Tag / Kissing / Angst / Fluff and Angst / Growing Up / Separations / Rain / Late Night Conversations / POV First Person / Present Tense / Pining / French-Speaking Jean Kirstein / Reader is emotional / theres some music for this too / Don't Examine This Too Closely

to make some things clear:

it's the last summer after high school (i.e. about to enter university)

based in canada which is basically the us but it doesn't really matter

reader is gender neutral (let me know if something seems off)

we don't know Connie in this one

i also got some songs which i thought fit the mood based on what was playing as i wrote. the songs will be indicated (==) in the writing. here's the queue:

dream, ivory; dream, ivory

heart to heart; mac demarco

little person; matt maltese

cry; cigarettes after sex

everything; the black skirts

if you're on iphone, i recommend doing the rain sounds when it rains, but it's up to you. without further ado ♥

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

== dream, ivory

The rock I’ve been kicking skids off the edge of the sidewalk, into the dark grass. I already miss the feeling of its bump against my foot. I’m going to miss a lot of things. Even before I finish the thought the familiar feeling of dread rises up from the depths of my gut. 

Shush. 

Jean’s face is illuminated harshly directly below the streetlight, hair glowing as if powdered in some otherworldly dust, shadows hard and soft defining and redefining themselves as we walk. Aimless wandering, that’s all we’re doing, but I’d rather be doing this than anything else. I’d rather be with him.

I almost miss the signature little smirk on his face mid-head turn but double take in time to see it grow. 

“What? You like what you see?”

Well, yeah.

But I stick the side of my finger against his teeth and he squirms. “Wh— hey! What was that?” There’s a chuckle between those words, though, and it makes me want to crack open like a stupid little egg and pour out all the feelings I have for him onto this very concrete, cover it with my devotion, stain it forever and ever. But all that comes out is a laugh and that’ll have to be enough. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“I was just asking you an honest question!” He holds up his hand as if preaching. “Honest to god, hand on the bible.”

Okay, Jean. “And if I said no?”

He has the nerve to look offended. “Then I’d know you’re lying.”

“Fff,” I huff, and I have to turn away because the grin on my face is at a dangerous level. “This boy. You’re too full of yourself.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jean says smugly. “But you like me that way, don’t you?” His arm hooks my waist to pull me closer and I do the same, gripping the back of his Stohess University hoodie. At this point this position is second nature — no more awkward touching or not-so-subtle shifting. Now we’re like… two stones in a river that just happen to fit together like pieces of a puzzle. That’s right, us, the walking pebbles, down the dark streets of 3 AM that would be scary under any other circumstance. 

Happy as can be. 

Until summer ends, at least. 

Sometimes I want to rip that hoodie off him and tear it into a million pieces, destroy the place that wants to take him from me so badly. But it makes him happy. It makes him really fucking happy. And who am I to take that away from him? 

“Hey,” he says, and I loosen my grip on the thick cloth before he notices the pulling. 

“Yeah?”

I feel his voice, a low hum against my side, just as much as I hear it. “What’re you thinking about?”

The windows of the houses around us are empty, void. It’s strange, isn’t it? To think that in every house is a different life, multiple lives which I’ll never know. An entire life with emotions and memories and experiences and desires. A human animal. “You, of course.”

He doesn’t respond at first and when we pass under another streetlight his face is a little redder than before, all across his nose and cheeks and ears, and it takes a lot not to stop right there and throw myself on him. I love it when he does that, when he proves that his bad-boy front is just that. A front. “Hah. What a flirt.”

Leaning in, I say, “I learned it from the best, didn’t I?”

“So you’re—” his face pulls even closer, and we stop under the broken buzz of a streetlight— “calling me a flirt.”

My feet scrape the concrete as I turn on the spot and drape my arms over his shoulders. Trepidation lines my bones and leeches into my legs, drop by drop. “Maybe,” I say, and I feel the air of my breath off his reddened skin. Gorgeous, gorgeous. I wait for him to close the little distance between us, which might as well have been no distance at all, because when we touch, when I feel the familiar, burning warmth of his lips pressing against mine, I… I forget what I was thinking about. 

I claw for his neck, the hair I begged him to grow out that I know will look so good on him, I need us to be closer, and he knows, pulling my body into his with his arms against the curve of my back, chest to chest, pelvis to hardening pelvis. I huff into his mouth from the sudden pressure and Jean takes me up again immediately after the brief separation without a breath to spare with a little moan, leading me stumbling backwards to god knows where but I trust him. I love the way the world just goes. My back hits something hard and I grunt from pain which just makes Jean snap and double down harder, reach further, a futile attempt to satisfy the beastly desire in my core that grows with every passing second. 

“Ah…”

I love his hand lowering to the small of my back, the way it trembles, the way it goes lower. The other slides under my shirt, roaming well-travelled areas, but that doesn’t make it any less enticing. I cling to the back of his head like my life depends on it because it very well might, following his every small movement like it’s the guiding star. He opens up for a quick huff of air and I use this opportunity to take the reins; to plunge deeper. 

I love how his hair feels. And when I pull it just right he makes a helpless noise into my mouth and oh fuck I could fold for him right now. 

I love how disgusting we are. Probing every part of each other with our tongues. The little pits in the skin of his cheeks. Heat in my core. Heat in my brain. Heat between our bodies. The taste of him. 

I love how I don’t know where I end and he begins. Burning lungs. Pull harder and he groans louder and I don’t know what noise belongs to who. Can you tell dogs apart by their bark?

I love his taste. Desire for air, but greater desire for him . His hand stops now in that place he knows I love, skin to burning skin, but the other never moves, keeping me locked in place. Need to be closer. Just us. 

I love his eyes, half-lidded but brimming with want. A fistful of his locks, tightening. Mind going places my hands can’t. Not here, not now. 

I love…

Just when I think my heavy heart is about to give out, we separate, the heat is gone, and we gasp for air both, separating the line of drool that connects us with a blistering snap. Colours come back. My head drops to his shoulder and his warm breath lands in the sensitive crook of his neck as he lets his hand slide out of my top and return to the small of my back with the other. I keep mine firmly anchored around his neck. We pant like mutts in the street, unmoving save for the heaving of our chests. The buzzing of the streetlight returns, but it never really left, did it? We did. 

I hope he likes me back as much as I do him. I hope he’s not doing this because he has to. Swallowing takes up precious time; immediately after I’m back to laboured breathing. If he’s anything but happy I’ll recede into the darkest, damndest reaches of the Earth so he can enjoy the sun. I would never tell him that, though. I hope I’m not… I hope I’m not too much. 

Maybe a little too abruptly I let go of him and he does the same after a moment's delay, a little reluctantly, but I’m imagining it. I wipe my lip before smiling. “You flirt.”

Running a finger across his mouth, Jean scoffs, a hint of his softer side still showing through as if his usual act hasn’t fully hardened yet. “You started it.”

“Hardly.”

“Do I need to bring out the case files?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do I need to pull out the evidence?”

“Evidence being what, exactly?” I point to his pants pockets. “You have a little pocket hamster witness? Or a boob camera?”

Gasping lightly — yet still maintaining a tone of exaggeration — his arms fly up: one to cover his chest, and the other his crotch. “You’re lucky my ass doesn’t report you right now.”

Obnoxiously, I smack my lips, run my tongue over my teeth, and stick my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. “I bet that ass can do a lot of things, princess. Walking all alone at night. Isn’t it dangerous?” I produce a crude rendering of Jean’s own smirk (to cover my own growing smile) while flipping my hair. “Let a handsome man escort you to your house.”

His act drops immediately. “Okay, you’re a little too good at this.”

I laugh.

“No, like seriously—” he raises his voice a bit to be heard clearly a smile grows on his face— “you’re creeping me out.”

“Hush, you.” With unspoken agreement we start walking again. “I need to keep up my creepy guy persona in case I’m ever approached.”

“What, your plan is to outcreep the creep?” He shakes his head. “Good luck with that one.”

I make my voice go gravelly again while making a squishing motion. “Let a man cop a feel. It’s the least you could do for all his hard work.”

“Okay, first of all, no, stop that. Secondly,” he says, pushing my hand away, “nobody’s gonna approach you as long as I’m—”

He freezes, then closes his mouth and swallows, Adam’s apple pushing back down the words unsaid. As long as I’m around . The dreadful feeling comes back like cold lead in my veins. But you’re gonna be around for long, are you, Jean?

We reach the junction directly between two streetlights, the darkest point of the sidewalk. There usually aren’t many stars where we live; regardless of the weather, city lights always blot out the little speckles in the sky that are supposed to just appear every night like in the pictures. Jean always wanted to see them. The Milky Way. The closest thing we have to a galaxy are the fluorescent glows of store signs that reflect off the bricked walls of the apartment buildings and cracked asphalt roads. 

“Hey,” I murmur, linking my arm through his and pointing at the splash of white light down the street. “Let’s go over there.”

“What, the 7-11?”

“Let’s get snacks and have a picnic together.”

A little chuckle escapes him. “At this time of night?” He doesn’t allow time to respond. “Well, alright.”

The mechanical beep greets us as the door opens. As expected, the place is empty, resided only by the eye-chokingly bright junk food packages haphazardly lining the shelves. My warped figure in the security camera screen hanging from the ceiling holds open the door for Jean and he steps through. He hasn’t been properly illuminated in a while so I take the opportunity to drink him in a little. There’s some darkness under his eyes and the scruff beginning to grow on his chin is getting longer than he prefers it (shaved off completely). His jaw clenches and unclenches seemingly at random as if he’s chewing gum, but he’s probably biting the inside of his mouth. It’s a nasty habit of his, and it never means anything good. He’s probably stressed about university. 

I sniff. Lysol. This place is a little too normal, a dip back into the waters of everyday. “Do you have your wallet?”

He stops and taps his pants pockets — first the back, then the front — and nods. “Yeah, I got my card.” 

“Sugar daddy me?”

A blush rises to the occasion and he rolls his eyes with a quick “yeah” before disappearing into the aisles. He hates getting flustered (but loves to inflict it on me) and does so at the weirdest things. In his own words, blushing is a ‘boner for your face.’ Okay, Jean. So what if I want to see you pop face boners. You like seeing mine, don’t you?

I scurry after him, scanning the items in his hold. “Strawberry Pocky. Black Doritos. Cola gummies.”

He holds out his arm so I can see better. 

“Nothing healthy? Nothing wet?”

“Okay, first of all, it’s a 7-11. Healthiest thing here is the air quality. Second of all.” He sets his palm on top of my head. “We’re getting there, alright? And don’t say wet.”

“Nothing moist.”

The flat hand turns into a fist and knocks lightly once on my skull. “Can’t win with you, eh?”

I flick his hand away and we keep weaving through the aisles. Marshmallows. 

Picking up the bag of sweets I stare at, Jean says, “we’re never gonna finish all these, y’know.”

“I know.” 

“What happened to getting healthy stuff?”

“You walk so slowly that I have to pick up everything I see. Or I’ll be understimulated and die.”

“Understimulated, huh?” he muses. I look up at his face but he’s reading the wrapper. “Maybe you’re my pocket hamster. Like a lab rat. Do I need to put you in a really big maze?” He shakes the bag like it’s cat treats and shoots me a smug look. “I’ll use these instead of cheese. If you solve the puzzle right I’ll toss you one so you have something to munch on.”

I don’t dignify him with a response. Steeling my fingers, I plunge them into his front pocket. 

The impact wracks through him, nearly making him drop the package. “Wh—”

“Won’t fit.” I shake my head and wiggle my fingers. “I can’t be your pocket hamster.”

I swear a tiny bead of sweat accumulates on his cheek but he’s quick to scratch it away. “I can make you fit.”

“Really?”

His eyes narrow. “You know more than anyone that I can make things fi—”

“Oh, hey.”

My head snaps toward the new voice — it’s the cashier, appearing from a door to take his place behind the counter. His grey hair’s been buzzed short (he hovers around our age despite the colour), almost to the point of bald, and various piercings on his face gleam even in the horrible 7-11 lighting as he cocks his head. “Sorry, didn’t notice you guys come in. Need anything at all?” 

“No, we’re good,” I say, subtly (I think) sliding my hand out of Jean’s pocket. Was the pocket thing too much? I overstepped again, didn’t I? “Thanks, though.”

The cashier nods once — I’m too far away to see his nametag but not the exhaustion that leaks out of him like a broken tap — and messes with something under the table. My gaze once again finds Jean’s and he looks like he’s seen a ghost which almost makes me feel like laughing. His big hand encloses mine and he leads me somewhere out of sight. Slurpee machines. They start humming as Jean lets me go and pinches the bridge of his nose as if on cue. “That was a little too close. Oh my god.” He chuckles lightly and it’s muffled. “He nearly saw us.” 

When he drops his hand and meets my eye the humour disappears in a flash; gravity immediately weighs down his features. “Is something wrong? Did I say something?”

“No!” I didn’t even say anything yet and he’s already this serious. Guilt settles already; why did I make him feel bad? “No. It’s— you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry.” I shoot for a grin and hit a grimace. “I’m just kinda tired.”

“Yeah. You look tired. Darling.” The word is raspy with the breath of his throat yet also strangely tender, as if uttered through honey, and we both pause at the new label. Darling. He called me darling. It’s getting warm. “Sorry. That sounded stupid, didn’t it?”

== heart to heart

Darling . “Dont— no! It’s not stupid at all! I— um.” I put a hand on his shoulder and Jean, recognizing the cue, leans his tree of a body down so he can stare straight into my eyes. “It was really… it was really cute. You should…” I trace a crack in the floor that reveals dark grout underneath while idly tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “Use that name on me again.” 

A little huff escapes him, brushes against my lips, and I’m compelled to look into those eyes again. Brown, hazel, green; depending on the lighting or weather they can be any of those colours, but I always find myself falling in regardless. There’s no reason for it. How layers of cells and pigments can trap me so hopelessly like it’s hypnosis, how even a scraping glance reminds me of our bests and worsts, how I want to look in there forever and ever, a bottomless well of all that was and could be and all that I want. “Well, since it’s got you looking all red like this, I really should.”

I just hope that you feel the same. I hope my thoughts are wrong. I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable. I hope that I can be good enough for you (but how can I)?

And I wish, I really fucking wish, that

   we never lose each other

      but I know it’s going to happen anyway

It’s going to happen anyway

and it hurts.

It hurts like a teddy bear on the ground in an abandoned house. A cracked picture frame. Sleepless nights with only tomorrow for comfort. Returning, over and over again, to the places I keep promising myself not to go to. 

Knowing that, at some point, we’ll walk together for the last time. Kiss each other for the last time. Eat together, dance together, listen to the same song together for the last time. 

So I’ll walk alone. I’ll pleasure myself. I’ll eat alone, dance alone, listen to that song until it becomes monotonous and you’ll become a stranger or a ghost or die forever and the initials so painfully carved into my heart will become fetid. Everywhere I look I’ll see your face and hear your voice and feel your warmth and smell your breath. I’ll do it, I’ll fucking do it and loathe every moment of it.

Oh, Jean, if only we could run away and gossip and lay in the sun together somewhere far away where there’s a big field and lots of flowers and a clear stream that brings us cool, fresh water and berries from the forest. Where it’s always daytime, except when it’s not, and I’ll weave flowers into your beautiful hair and you’ll do the same for me and we’ll look to the open sky, with nothing to obstruct us, no buildings, no wires, no light, and there are so many stars, beautiful and so bright, so wonderful that it’ll take your breath away like a little kid seeing dinosaurs and we’ll lay for hours in the weeds together and just look at them until the sun comes back up. And we’ll be so happy we’ll cry. Just us and nothing else. 

But I know that what I want isn’t what you want. I know that. So I’ll do the right thing. I’ll do the right thing! I said I’ll do it, so leave me alone. 

Now Jean’s breath rustles my hair. “Hey.” 

At some point I started looking at his shoes. They’re creased and dirty. Not because he can’t afford them, but because he doesn’t know how to take care of his stuff. “Really, Jean.” I suck in a big breath disguised as a yawn to maybe disguise the wetness — sorry, moistness — of my eyes and point at his feet. “You’re like a little kid sometimes.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“So dirty.”

“My shoes? It’s only a little bit.” 

I raise an eyebrow. 

“It looks cool like that. Doesn’t it look cool like that?” 

“Okay, Jean.” The slurpee machine hums again and I’m drawn to the mechanical whirring. Who cares if there’s rat poop or salmonella or whatever in there. I’m a little thirsty and my throat could use some loosening before I start croaking. 

“It— it’s cool, right?” Jean leans against the wall, right behind the stack of cups that jut out horizontally, packed together so densely the transparent plastic becomes opaque. I slide one out of the holder and snap one of the lids out of their holders, too, and combine them before angling the cup under one of the spouts. 

“I dunno, Jean,” I say, pushing down the plunger. Synthetic heaven plops into the cup, making it jump at the initial impact. I look back in time to see him get a cup of his own. “You’ll have to ask yourself that.”

“That usually means no,” he says glumly, setting his cup down to fill. “It’s fine.” He’ll be getting coke on the bottom and cherry on the top, like he always does. “I know how to use a laundry machine. Just like you taught me.”

Sliding my cup underneath a different spout, I smile. “Good boy. You’re learning so well.”

Jean watches his cup overflow. 

“Oh. Jean. Jean .” I grab his wrist and take his hand off the lever. I shouldn’t have said that. “Wake up, Jean.” His face matches the artificially dyed cherry smeared over the hand he’s using to hold the cup and I laugh. “Jean, come on. We have to ask the guy for paper towels.” I pull him back in the direction we came from. “ Jean .”

“I’m coming.” He takes a few heavy steps before pulling himself together, tensed as if electrified. 

The guy behind the counter has earbuds in with the wires wrapped backwards around his ears and doesn’t notice us until we’re a few paces away. He jumps and fumbles to take one out. “Uh, you guys ready to check out?” His eyes, maybe a little wider than they should be given the circumstances, are drawn to Jean’s hand. “You’re… just getting the one slurpee?”

“Uh, no, we… our stuff is back with the slurpee machine.” What am I saying? Jean’s always been the better one at talking. “We, uh, need to clean up. Paper towels!” I squeeze Jean’s hand but it seems he’s still in stupor, melted cherry slushy dripping to the floor. 

“Oh,” is all the cashier says.

“Can we have some paper towels, please?” I continue. “We made a mess with the machine.”

The cashier seems to relax a bit. “Oh.”

“I’m really sorry. We’ll help clean up. Like, you don’t even need to do anything, just tell us where the paper towels are—”

“No, it’s all good, it’s my job. Plus it gets pretty boring here y’know?” He smiles and his teeth are crooked. “I’ll grab ‘em.” And he disappears behind the employee-only door. 

I wait a second or two before elbowing Jean lightly.

“Ow!”

“You alright, zombie?” I ask, trying not to let too much tease slip into my voice.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He looks at his slurpee-d hand, brings it to his face, and wraps his lips around the base of his thumb to slurp the area where the juice drips out. Then his mouth opens a bit more and his tongue inches out, up the side of his palm against the cup, in and out, motions intended to lap up every last drop of the juice like it was never even there in the first place. His other hand rubs firm circles into mine as he goes back to licking the base of his thumb, making small slurping noises. “Mmm,” he moans as he runs his tongue from his hand to the tip of the cup, and now I realize his smug eyes have been on me the whole time, “tastes good. Un goût de paradis. ”

“You didn’t pay for that,” I say as flatly as possible without bursting on the spot.

“It’s fine, it’s just the drops.” He smirks. “You’d change your mind if you knew what it tasted like.”

“And what does it taste like?”

“Maybe,” his leer deepens as he leans in, pulling my hand gently, “I could show you. But…” he pulls back at the last second. “Nah!”

It smacks me in the face like a dead fish. “You— Kirsch—” use your big girl words!— “bastard.”

He chuckles as something metal drops behind the door; another few seconds and the cashier comes back out with a thick roll of the brown paper towels they use in bathrooms (the ones that can’t absorb for shit). “Sorry about the wait,” he huffs, one earbud still clinging to his ear as the other dangles from the neckline of his green uniform. “Hard to find anything in there.” He opens a little side door to get out from behind the counter and his feet drag a little as he walks toward the slurpee machines. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “you guys are coming, right?”

“Right behind you.” Jean calls, this time leading me back.

The cashier tears some of the paper and starts mopping up some of the stuff on the grill, though only succeeds in pushing the little chunks that are left into the gutter. He clicks his tongue and starts murmuring Spanish obscenities. 

“Here.” Jean hands me a piece of paper towel and I take it, getting to work on the ground. The cashier shuffles aside to make room and I utter a quick thanks. As expected, the towels don’t really absorb, but push the liquid around. 

“Maybe you should lick this up, too,” I tease as Jean kneels beside me. 

“Funny.”

But we do manage to clean it up. We toss the soiled paper into a hole built into the slurpee counter for garbage as the cashier continues to scrape the grill. He sighs, bringing his hand up while balling up the napkin and letting it slap against the side of his thigh. “No use here, I’ll get it later. But, uh, thanks for helping out.” Nodding, he tosses the garbage at the garbage hole and misses. 

Jean bats it in for him. “No problem, man.”

He nods again. I can see his name tag, now that he’s closer: 

CONNIE

“It was nothing, really,” I smile. “Thanks, Connie.”

“I’ll be at the counter when you guys’re ready.” He returns the gesture before shuffling away. 

“Well.” Jean collects our little hoard. “You think this is enough?”

Pocky, gummies, chips, marshmallows. And the slurpees. “I know that’s enough.” I cling to his arm like a parasite. “Let’s go.”

Jean pays, we say our goodbyes to Connie, and then we leave. Back to the buzzing and the empty sky, just the same as before, except with food and a vague destination in mind. 

“You know,” I say, swallowing the slurpee still in my mouth, “did that guy seem familiar? Or is it just me?”

“The cashier?”

“Yeah, Connie.”

“Huhh…” Jean licks his lips which are already cherry red. “I don’t think I’ve seen him around school before. But you’re right, he does seem familiar. It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” I muse, throwing him a teasing look, “in another life, you guys did laundry and taxes together.”

“No way,” he chuckles. “We definitely would’ve done something cooler together. Like, fight giants, or something.”

“Giants.” I grin. “Tell me about these giants.”

He shrugs. “They’re big. And they’re naked all the time.”

“Wooow.” 

“What?” he laughs. “They don’t have enough cloth to make clothes so they just go naked all the time! Except in Malaysia.”

“What?”

“And they run really weird, and the girl giants have these—” he charades huge boobs— “giant tits—”

“What about the guy giants?”

He pauses. “They don’t have anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

He scowls. “Why do you wanna know so bad?”

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Are the giants good-looking, at least?”

“The important ones are.”

“Hmm.” I take another slurp. “So I could have a cute, important, constantly naked, big tiddie giant girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“All the giants wanna eat people.”

“Eat people, huh? I can live with that.” 

Jean snorts and rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

We walk in silence until the next streetlight. “On second thought,” I start, “I think, in another life, you guys would survive the zombie apocalypse together.”

“Zombie apocalypse,” Jean echoes. “Why do I feel like I’d die first?”

“You almost do. But Connie sacrifices himself for you.”

He hmms . “Then you’d be part of the secondary group of survivors that ends up betraying the main force.”

“That’s weirdly specific. So I end up betraying you?”

“It’s okay because we join forces in the end.” He shrugs. “Either that or I charm you to our side.”

I grin. “You do, do you.”

== little person

The walk to the park is a short one, and before long the entrance is visible down the void road. A cold drop lands on my hand.

“Huh, we’re almost there.” Jean shifts the bags of chips in hand — the pocky is in his pocket. “Then—” his eye twitches strangely— “ah! Did a bird just shit in my eye?”

“What?” I sputter as another drop lands on my cheek. “There’s no birds. I think it’s raining.”

Blinking hard, Jean utters, “rain?” 

We look up at the same time. The sky is no longer cloudless, and the familiar pitter-patter emanates from the roofs around us. We look back at each other.

Well, shit.

“It’s not that bad,” I start. Jean opens his mouth to reply but something suddenly falls on my head. 

Rather, a downpour of rain, like water from a bucket, pushes me down. It’s loud! Loud like firecrackers.

“Holy shit!” Jean squawks, barely heard above the sound of rain. “No! My slurpee!”

The coke and cherries is on the ground now, cratering with every heavy raindrop that lands in it. I snatch his now-free hand.

“Forget it! We have to go!”

His face is devastated, but he nods. No recovery. I jut my head in the direction of the park; he nods again, and we make a break for it.

Being the taller one, Jean could easily outpace me, but we run side by side, feet sloshing first in the asphalt then in the grass as we finally make it to the park. “There!” he cries, pointing at the nearest tree that looks like it could provide some decent cover. I run until I feel my legs are going to give out and we crash under the leafy cover like it’s the finish line to a marathon, not letting go of each other even when our clasped hands crack into the tree’s trunk and we smack into each other on the other side with the full force of our momentum. 

“Hooo!” Jean huffs. There’s no light in the park but I still can’t miss the wild look in his eyes, the way his hair drips and sticks to his forehead, just long enough to brush his upturned eyebrows. “You alright?” 

“Yeah!” I cheer, feeling a laugh bubbling out. There’s no houses here, and probably no people. Who cares anyway? The sudden escapade snapped me into a different state. “Yeah, I’m good! Are you okay?”

“I’m soaked!” His huffs turn into a laugh and he waves vaguely at the sky. “So much for a picnic, huh?”

I blink a few times, then open my eyes wide. There’s no lights installed at the park, at least none that are on at this hour, but even in the pitch dark I know where the main areas are. “Why don’t we go to the pavilion?” I yell, turning back to face him. 

“Mmp!” Jean pulls his head back, but not quick enough. “As you wish, darling,” he garbles quickly, wiping the corner of his mouth. 

My jaw drops and I hold up my cup. The juice is now half of its original volume. “You little—” Without thinking, I swing the bag of marshmallows at his head but he blocks it easily with his arm. 

“I couldn’t help it!” he bursts, dribbling a small amount onto the mulch floor with a splat .

The words die in my throat as we stare at the regurgitation. A moment later Jean takes off and I swear I see the raindrops fly off. 

“Jean!” What choice do I have? I pursue.

The thief never strays more than a few feet ahead, allowing me a few more rain-laced swings before a picnic bench suddenly appears in front of us. At the last minute Jean manages to slam his feet onto the bench part and leap onto the table, but I don’t lift my knees high enough and the wood dings my shins and before the pain has time to register the soaked, half-rotten tabletop screams toward me

and when it’s supposed to hurt, it doesn’t. 

Vision isn’t required to know that my face is squished up against Jean’s palms which cushion me from the wood. His wet hands peel off and travel to my shoulders. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Now my legs hurt. I blink at his blurry face and put my hands over his. The stuff I was carrying is on the ground now; I’m kneeling on the bench. “You saved me.”

“Of course.” 

“Even though I hit you with marshmallows.”

“Darling.” He takes my hands in his, clasping them between our bodies. We’re soaked thoroughly now; the sweater I have stupidly unzipped weighs down heavily on my shoulders and rainwater constantly runs into my eyes and the valley of my lips, while Jean’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, eyelashes clumped together, and rain drips from the end of his nose onto our hands. “I would save you if it killed me.”

Then save me now. 

Tell me you won’t accept that program at Stohess. Tell me we can go away somewhere far, far enough to avoid going to a school I don’t want for a degree I don’t want for a future I don’t want. 

At the very least, tell me I can find the strength to break away from it all and make something decent out of this life that I’ve forcefully been granted. 

How do you do it? How do you forge your own path, create a light that’s so blinding it renders me a moth? How do you find the courage? 

I bring the bundle of our hands close to my face, let my breath run down the slick side of the back of Jean’s palm. “I would do the same for you.” And gently, as if handling the most precious jewel, I press my lips against the ridge of his knuckles and whisper, “ mon chéri. ”

Rain continues to fall in that familiar, comforting hum as it patters softly onto the grass and soil and leaves and wood. Jean stays silent for so long and if not for the look in his eyes I would think he didn’t hear me at all. But his lips crack open, and it takes a few tries for him to say what he wants. 

“I… I wish…” His Adam’s apple bobs and rests precariously on his throat, holding the power of the things left unsaid. “I wish you’d finally admit that you’re a bigger flirt than I am.”

Out of reflex I scoff and release myself from his grasp to pull some hair off my face, covering the blow of his sudden change of heart that makes my insides feel as if they’d been scraped on hot concrete and poured back in. “You’re insane, Kirschtein.” No, it’s stupid and selfish of me to expect him to say something. 

Shrugging plainly, he rubs his palms against his knees as if to dry them (ha ha), but gets up a moment later to pick some things off the grass. He returns a moment later with the pocky and gummies and drops them on the table before dropping down himself. The pocky box is soggy. “Let’s have our picnic right here.”

I shoot him a skeptical look which I hope he sees. “In the rain?”

“I know it’s your favourite weather.” His voice is soft and he speaks as if he had committed a grave sin. 

“What if you get sick?” Now I remember to zip up my sweater. 

His eyes follow the movement. “I can take care of myself.”

Fat chance of that, boy. “What if I get sick?”

“I’ll take care of you.”

I take a seat beside him on the table, feet on the bench. “And if we both get sick?”

He smiles a little. “Then I can hold you without worrying about transferring anything.”

“And you’re not a flirt.”

“What—” he opens the pack of gummies with a plastic crackle— “ever,” and sets the package between our bodies. 

These are Jean’s favourite snacks. I’m sure he’s gotten sick by eating too many of these before, but he was convinced it was something else he ate. Idly, he pops one in his mouth, and I follow suit. They do taste good, though. 

“Wonder if anyone’s ever been here this late,” Jean mumbles as I open the pocky. 

“I’m sure they have. And I’m sure they will be.” I draw a length of the strawberry-coated stick like a sword and crunch. “None of them are idiotic enough to have a picnic when it’s raining, though, so we’re probably a first for that.”

He chuckles. “Pioneers, I’m sure.”

We eat in silence. The rain slows down, but doesn’t let up. 

What am I doing here? What’s even the point of this? It’s only going to hurt me more, spending time with a ghost like this. 

“Jean.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know the pocky game?”

“Hmm?”

“You know.” I stick one of the candies in my mouth and point to the other end. 

Jean only looks more confused, and, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I pry open his lips with two fingers and probe him with the pink tip. A strange and perhaps exaggerated noise gargles out of him — the candy slips from my grasp and falls. 

“What the heck!” He bristles like a cat, even in the rain. “Stop laughing!” 

“You’re— you’re supposed to bite it,” I choke. “Why do you look so scared?” 

“I was just surprised .” He shimmies another stick out. “Let’s do it again. It’s just like Lady and the Tramp, right? Come on, let’s do it. Stop that!” 

My attempt to stifle the giggles is piss-poor and Jean knows it. But I stop when I feel him grasp my chin and turn my head toward him. 

“So,” he says slowly around the pocky in his mouth, “are we gonna do this?”

Smiling, I bite the other end, and then we’re connected. The stick vibrates as Jean starts to nibble, and when I follow suit he puts his hand down. We inch closer—

Crunch!

Our eyes widen. 

Wordlessly, Jean lets go of his end of the stick, finds the source of the disturbance, and holds it up sheepishly. 

The entire bag of pocky, compressed to dust under his palm. 

“Whoops.”

I stare. 

“I’m sorry.”

I push the remainder of our pocky in my mouth and chew. 

“Fuck, I’ll— we can go back to the store and get another box. Hey. Don’t turn away…”

Wow, that tree over there sure looks interesting. 

“Forgive me?”

I turn back. He looks absolutely crushed. (As he should.)

“I know they’re your favourite.” His head hangs. “I’ll…” Without warning, he grabs the bag of gummies and dumps the sweets on the ground. They tumble and disappear from view. 

What!

“There. Now we’re even.” He looks up and smiles, shaking the plastic. 

“What— Jean— what’d you do that for?”

“I wanted us to be in the same boat. It’s my fault for destroying the pocky anyway… and both of our slurpees… and I stepped on the chips when I jumped on the bench so I ruined that too. Plus I nearly got you killed.” He shrugs. “Retribution.”

My chest shrivels in on itself. “I didn’t care that much. Those were your favourite.”

“And the pocky was yours. Besides, we still have marshmallows.”

Pointing, I say, “I dropped them back there.” 

“Oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed. I put my hands flat on the table behind me — despite how grimy — and lean back. 

“We’re never gonna finish all these, y’know. ” Guess he was right. 

One sigh turns into another, and soon I’m giggling like a schoolgirl. The rain falls all over my face, my neck, and runs down my shirt, like tiny tickling fingers. This is ridiculous. Here are two stupid dumb teenagers, at three in the morning in the rain, sitting on a bench surrounded by crushed wrappers and gummies and pocky crumbs. How does one even end up in this situation? They must be so young and in love. They must have no worries at all. Just two stupid dumb teenagers and nothing more. 

Humans can only know each other so much. Words can only do so much. Actions, too. 

Maybe, somewhere far away, far into the future or perhaps the past, someone will truly understand the sort of predicament I’m in. 

But it’s a little selfish of me to be comforted by that thought when I don’t even try to make others understand. 

“What’s so funny?”

I let my eyes roll shut. It’s a mistake to spend money on me, Jean. Just run away now before I absorb you like an amoeba. “Nothing. Nothing is funny.” Well, I don’t have to worry about that, since we’re leaving each other anyway! 

It doesn’t matter. What makes you think you can sustain a healthy relationship when you obviously have your own issues? What makes you think you deserve him? You suck away at his happiness like a vampire. You make it so hard for people to be happy. You’re horrid. 

The rain becomes vulgar and suddenly I hate the way it touches every inch of me. 

“Hey.” Jean’s voice is soft, tentative. “Are you okay?”

The wood turns to slime under my palms. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” Maybe we should head home soon, I almost add, but I can’t. “Hey, Jean.” To my dismay, I open my eyes, and the world blinks back at me. Like it’s pissed at me for ever imagining it could disappear. But when I look at him it makes everything a little bit better. 

== cry

Piece of shit. 

A deep booming emanates from the ground like a great burrowing beast about to snap out but it’s just distant thunder. 

“Yeah?” He’s in the same position I’m in, leaned back, eyes shut to the elements. Hair still glued to his forehead but slowly pushing back. Trembling ever so slightly with the shivers. Idiot boy. 

Ever so slowly as to not disturb him or the picnic table, I stand, put my foot down on the other side of him, and come back down, weight fully balanced on his hip, effectively straddling him. He flinches at initial contact but otherwise doesn’t move as I wrap my arms around his chest 

and cling to him

   like a parasite. 

      Please just hold me. 

Another wave of trembles strikes Jean as he lowers himself so he lies flat against the wood and I lay flat on him. His arms wrap around me a moment later. 

I don’t want to think. Jean pulls me a little tighter against that waterlogged hoodie but I don’t mind. My balled hands are getting crushed under our weight and they’re probably hell on his back so I flatten them as much as possible and grasp him. Just us.

Just us, just us, just us…

Jean speaks first, breaking the vow of silence. “You know—” his voice cracks— “we only have three weeks left.” 

That’s it. That’s all it takes for the pit in my stomach to open up so quickly I’m surprised Jean doesn’t get stabbed with it. For the dread to boil over and suddenly take control of my entire body, render me prone, double my mass. “Don’t.” That word was too weak even for me. 

“I’m really… I’m really going to miss you.” The arms tighten and force some air out of me but this time the contact does nothing to help smooth me out.

Stop talking. 

He keeps going. “I can’t ignore it for much longer.”

“Stop.” 

“I try to and I can’t. I’m…” Jean’s chest jerks beneath me as his breaths turn shuddering. The floodgates. “I’m just scared.”’

My throat hurts so much it’s like it’s going to collapse in on itself and my eyes burn and it’s hard to breathe—

“You’ve been the best thing to ever happen to me. And now I have to leave you.”

“Stop,” I rasp, but apparently not loud enough. 

“When we— when we part ways—”

“Don’t.”

“—I hope you find someone who’s better. Someone who doesn’t get emotional over dumb shit, someone who can treat you right, someone with an actual future—”

I smack his chest with it. My hand. Not hard at all. But enough to get him to stop . 

“Jean…” I rise back into a somewhat sitting position. His chin is wrinkled and he’s biting his lip so hard and we lock eyes for a shattering second before he turns his head. Red eyes in a sea of sadness. 

What… do I say now?

“You do have a future.”

He scoffs and the smirk is like razors to the eye. “Because I’m going to make it so far with an art degree.”

“Jean, you’re doing what you want to do. Who cares if you don’t end up getting a ‘traditional’ job? You’re gonna be happy with your life.” Which is a lot more than I can say for myself. 

Jean brings his gaze down to look at the table. “Yeah, you’re right.” His hands slide from my back to the outsides of my thighs. “It’s going to be different without you, though.” 

Deep breath doesn’t do anything. “It’s going to be different without you, too.”

He gives my legs a chaste squeeze, perhaps of comfort. Breathily, he asks, “what now?”

“We enjoy the time left together.”

“And after?”

“We don’t think about after.”

“We have to think about after.”

“Jean…” 

He thinks for a few seconds. “We could try long distance.”

“Jean.”

“I mean, sometimes it works, sometimes. As long as we keep communicating, it should be fine. Right? Yeah. Yeah…” Somewhere, a lone mourning dove calls, its familiar swooping cry piercing the dark. “Say something.”

“I don’t…” know. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“What if it does?” He shifts up on his elbows. “What is there to lose?”

The idea comes immediately to mind but it’s harder to put into words. Late-night research on advice boards and internet forums only proved that everything that can go bad does go bad, and imagining Jean or even me in any of those scenarios renders me feeble. It could work, but it could also fail spectacularly. I don’t want to lose him in one of those ways. 

But, at the same time, I’d rather not lose him at all. 

Jean waits, expectation heavy in his upturned eyes. Who am I kidding. Of course I’d take that risk. “Yeah. You’re right.” I bite the inside of my lip and worry it between my teeth. “It could work.” Because that’s what everyone says before it all goes south. 

Worst case scenario, he walks off with another person to love. At least he’ll be happy. He’ll have a real person to look at. Maybe someone less miserable and self-pitying and broody. Someone better-looking, for sure. Someone who he can rely on, instead of a brick wall who can’t express its feelings. Yeah, that would be nice. They’d meet in college through a shared passion for art and make it through the hardships of life together in a crappy little one-bedroom studio apartment that’s lit by yellowed fluorescents overlooking some shady alleyway that he’s definitely saved them from. Walls covered in portraits of each other, blurry polaroids, their favourite albums, photos of graffitied underpasses and empty parking lots that would be so meaningless to anyone else. Windows open in the summer to let in the breeze because on extra humid days it smells like wood. Windows open in the winter because the colder the air, the more burning hot their skin feels against the other as their limbs tangle under the warm pile of blankets on the couch as they watch their show together, even though they’ve seen it enough times to quote every line. Communicating, at every opportunity, how much they mean to each other and their concerns and their plans, quick chats as they pass each other on the way to class, hours-long nighttime discussions that never seem to end. Words strung together so intricately that neither of them gets up out of bed the morning the same as they were last night. 

“What are you thinking about?”

I’m still staring into his eyes. “Just— the future.”

His jaw starts grinding again. “You really hate talking about yourself, don’t you?”

“It’s not—” I start to say before Jean suddenly sits up at a right angle, bracing a hand behind my back so I don’t fall backwards. His eyes fixed on me the whole time. 

“It’s not what?” There’s a furrow in his brow. “Not important?” 

Suddenly, I realize my hands are on his chest.

“Listen, I know you have… trouble with speaking up sometimes, and the last thing I want to do is force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But—” his hands tighten around my thighs— “sometimes I can’t read your mind, and I can’t help you; all I know is that you’re struggling all by yourself and I’m sitting there useless. Listen—” his breath gives out, and he tries again: “listen. I’m not— I want to help you. Especially now. So if you have anything to say, please, please say it.”

At some point the rain had slowed to a drizzle. 

Do something. Say something meaningful. For once in your life, please, just open your stupid fucking mouth and say something. 

I’m scared too I’m really scared of the future and I want us to run away together and live in the weeds and the one-bedroom apartments I want to stand outside with you in the alleyway I want to have a picnic with you in the underpass I want you to steal my slurpee I want to make you laugh I want to make you happy I want to give you this teddy bear let’s take pictures of each other I’ll teach you how to make a flower braid I want to forget the whole world and all the human animals it can be just us I’ll come out of my dark corner and drag you back in we can be together and never come out just be with me and I’ll be happy wherever

“I’m not really thinking of much.”

“Why don’t you look me in the eye and say that?”

Layers of cells and pigment. Jean’s eyes and my own. My lips part but it’s as if my throat’s turned into a deep, dry well. Something. Something… “When— if —” I inhale— “if we don’t make it, find someone who can treat you right.”

He blinks. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“The times I spent with you have been the most precious parts of my life. So if you decide to spend your time with someone else, that’s fine. You’ve given me enough happiness to last a lifetime, you know?”

“What the hell are you spouting,” he grunts. “That’s never gonna fucking happen. Don’t you— are you listening? I’m never doing that.” Now his hands are on my arms. “Don’t you realize how much you mean to me?”

“I don’t think you know a whole lot about me.” Stohess University, his sweater says in big embroidered letters. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it.” Fuck, I sound edgy. Please don’t pursue the subject. 

“No, I will worry about it. Hey, look at me.” He pulls my chin up. “I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know? Do you really think by not saying anything I’ll just go on about my day like it’s nothing? Fuck. I care about you. Why can’t you realize that?” Jean’s eyes glisten dangerously. “You— you do care about me, right?”

That’s it. I grind my teeth so hard they might shatter as the hole in my gut deepens. “Of course I do.” You don’t know how much you mean to me and the fact that I made you this upset makes me want to condense into a dark point and disappear forever. How could I be so stupid? 

“Then let me care about you too.”

Treating him like a little kid without any emotions. Shunning him to the point he feels… uncared for. Discarded. My doing. 

Are you ever going to tell him that you love him?

No you’re stupid you’re a hormonal teenager who’s emotional about growing up stop being such a baby and think about your future that’s what matters that’s all that will ever matter get a job that will make mommy and daddy proud 

   I don’t want to see you with that boy again 

      big kids don’t cry

“Darling?”

A rough warm thumb swipes the skin under my eye and takes away the hot tears that make everything so blurry. Piercing throat pain. “I can’t see you, Jean.”

“You’re crying.”

== everything

“No… I’m not.”

But even as I say it a warm drop runs down my cheek and not a moment later it’s wiped away and he plants a most delicate kiss in its place. There’s something wrong with my breath because I can’t seem to inhale smoothly. 

“Just let it out, my love.”

“I can’t— I can’t see you.” The words come out half-mumbled and airy. 

“Shhh.” He envelops me in his grasp, arms wrapped carefully around me, chest to chest, chin to shoulder, and I find myself clinging on like a parasite. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. I’m right here for you. Right here.”

“Jean—” I gulp. “I—” 

“Shhh.” And his chest vibrates as he hums and rocks and I don’t think I’ve been held like this in a very long time. 

His body so warm beneath me, his arms so secure. Nothing to hear and nothing to see. 

I haven’t felt like this in a very long time. 

Breath after jerky breath

   is it finally my turn?

      is it okay like this?

         it’s okay, right?

            it’s safe. 

Jean doesn’t stop. When I twitch or gasp or burrow into him he doesn’t stop, he mutters and sways and holds me as I sob and dirty his shoulder and I don’t think he’ll ever let go. I don’t want him to. 

At some point in the morning, when the park is alive with the sounds of birds, the convulsions stop, and so does Jean, pulling me off and scanning my face.

“Don’t.”

He ignores me, though, and wipes everything revolting off my face with his sleeve. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I got emotional.”

“I know.” Without an ounce of hesitation, he presses his lips against my forehead and holds it there. “Thank you.”

I take a deep breath and it somehow seems easier than before. “Three weeks.”

“Three weeks.” Jean returns to eye level. 

“Do you ever get that feeling of missing something that isn’t gone yet?”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that you miss me.”

“Do you miss me?”

He pushes some hair off my face. “With every fiber of my being.”

Slowly, I do the same — pulling his bangs so that they split on the left side of his face, sweeping them to the side. Jean shuts his eyes as I work and tilts his head forward but I don’t know if he’s conscious of it or not. Meticulously placing every damp lock. He doesn’t open his eyes again until I’m finished. 

The time will pass, dates will tick by like seconds. And when it’s finally time, the inevitable will happen. 

Goodbyes hurt the most when the story isn’t finished. 

Maybe, in another life, it goes on for a little longer. 

A story with just us. 

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

one fun fact is that i have never stepped foot into a 7-11 before. i just based it off circle k. makes me wonder why i chose 7-11 in the first place. (if you happen to be one of the four pocket hamsters in a single trench coat that read my zombie au fic, the reference here isn't a spoiler. or is it??? haha just kidding. maybe.) thanks for reading my dumpter fire! to be honest i was a little embarrassed posting it but whatever its ao3tumblr. i hope every single one of you experiences a clear night sky and/or strawberry pocky in the forseeable future. take care :) secret tumblr-excluive a/n: am i doing it right? does my post like nice and pretty? did i spend an hour formatting the cover? no i didn't!!

[doumadono]

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Natsuo, viking!Hawks, fem!reader, viking themes

Summary: in a Viking world of power, secrets and warriors, a young woman captured during a raid finds herself entangled in the life of Dabi, the enigmatic eldest son of the ruthless earl. As secrets, scars, and desires collide, their unconventional connection unfolds in a tale of love, danger, and destiny

Word count: circa 6.1k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

MASTERLIST KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT II - SHADOWS OF DECEIT

In the steamy chamber, you, your initial shock gradually replaced by compassion, hesitated for a moment before approaching the bath where Dabi sat. You knew it was your duty to assist him, but the sight of his scarred skin made you cautious. Your hands trembled slightly as you prepared to help him bathe. "Can I help you bathe?" you offered quietly, not fully sure how to start the conversation.

Dabi regarded you with those piercing turquoise eyes, a hint of curiosity evident. "You can," he replied simply.

As you assisted Dabi in the bath, your hands gently touched his scarred skin, your fingers moving with care over the gnarled patches. The silence between you was broken when you couldn't resist your curiosity any longer. "How did you get these scars?" you asked, your tone soft and understanding.

Dabi leaned back, closing his eyes briefly, as if summoning the strength to share his story. Eventually, he nodded, and his voice carried the weight of a painful history as he began to recount the tale of how he had come to bear these disfiguring marks. "It happened when I was just a child," he began, his words tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sorrow. "My own father, the earl of this village, attempted to kill me by pouring boiling tar on my skin. He saw me as a threat to his position and did everything he could to eliminate me."

You listened with a heavy heart as Dabi continued to describe the cruelty he had endured, the story of a young boy who had survived a brutal attack and grown up to become the man you saw before you, marked by both physical and emotional scars.

As you worked, the steamy chamber filled with the scent of herbs and the sound of water splashing. "It's scary and so sad," you murmured softly, your words echoing the sympathy that welled up within you in some way.

Dabi frowned, turning his head slightly to face you, his eyes locked onto your. "Don't pity me," he snarled, his voice laced with defiance. "I don't need that."

You felt a pang of regret at your words but continued your actions, gently washing his skin, the soap and water mingling with the steam. Your touch was a silent reassurance, a way of offering comfort without words, as you carried out your task with care and understanding.

The bath process, while seemingly mundane, became a moment of connection and shared understanding between two individuals whose lives had become unexpectedly intertwined in a world of harsh realities.

Dabi couldn't help but break the silence with a question that weighed on his mind. "Aren't you angry with me for what I've done anymore? You seem so calm?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused for a moment, your gaze fixed on him, and then you responded firmly, "I'll forever hold a grudge for what you and your men did. It's unforgettable and unforgivable. The pain of losing my friends will never fade, but what can I do? I'm nothing but a slave now."

The words hung heavily in the air, and the room seemed to grow even more suffocating. It was a stark reminder of the atrocities that had occurred during the raid, the wounds that would never fully heal, and the complex emotions that tied them together in a world where forgiveness was a rare and elusive commodity.

The bath eventually came to an end, and Dabi rose from the water without the slightest concern for his nakedness.

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to intrude on his privacy by looking at his unclothed form.

Dabi noticed your discomfort and chuckled, his voice laced with a snarky edge. "Haven't you seen a naked man before?" Dabi asked casually, as he nonchalantly wrapped a towel around his narrow hips. His tone was light, as if he was attempting to ease the tension that lingered in the room, although the enigmatic smile on his lips suggested a hint of mischief. His comment, while teasing, hinted at a sense of amusement.

Shyly, you admitted, "I have seen a few times before, but… it does make me uncomfortable." Your voice held a hint of bashfulness as you confessed your unease.

Dabi grinned mischievously and remarked, "Well, well, you must be a sweet virgin then, untouched by a man before."

His comment caused a rosy hue to spread across your cheeks, and you cleared your throat, struggling to find a response. Finally, you replied, "That's not something I think is necessary to discuss, sir."

Dabi chuckled darkly, his eyes locking onto yours as he told you, "I appreciate your help, but I no longer require your assistance. You may proceed to other tasks."

With a respectful nod, you bowed your head and quietly left the chamber. Once the door was closed behind you, you took a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing heartbeat. Why was your body acting that way?!

Meanwhile, Dabi donned fresh, warm woolen clothes and flopped onto his bed with a smile that refused to leave his lips. As he lay there, he couldn't help but ponder the intriguing encounter he'd had with you. Your presence had stirred something within him, a fascination that was as unexpected as it was undeniable. Thoughts of you lingered in his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder what secrets and complexities lay behind those attentive eyes.

You and the elder woman, Hilda, whose name you had learned, found yourselves working together to prepare the evening supper and clean the Great Hall. There was little conversation between you, both recognizing the need to focus on your duties in a world where neither of you had many options.

As the evening descended, the Great Hall was transformed into a place of feasting and celebration. The long wooden table was laden with a lavish spread, featuring roasted meats, freshly baked bread, hearty stews, and a variety of fruits and vegetables. The earl, Endeavor, and his sons, along with the most honored warriors and shieldmaidens, gathered at the table.

Amidst the flickering torchlight, they feasted, drank, and discussed the latest raid and their plans for the coming months. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was one of camaraderie, where bonds were forged over stories of battles and victories, and where alliances were strengthened through shared experiences in a world where strength and strategy reigned supreme.

From your vantage point in the small chamber that you now shared with Hilda, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the raucous scene unfolding in the Great Hall. The feasting and celebration, in the wake of the brutal raid that had cost so many innocent lives, left a bitter taste in your mouth. "I hate them," you whispered through clenched teeth, the anger and sorrow in your voice evident. "They killed so many noble, innocent people, and they're celebrating!"

Hilda remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on the revelry below. When she finally responded, her voice was heavy with the weight of the past and the harsh realities of their world. "It's a cruel world, my child. Sometimes, we must endure the unbearable in order to survive."

As Hilda instructed you to bring some wooden logs for the fireplace, you reluctantly nodded, asking to borrow one of her large furs to shield yourself from the biting cold of the night. She handed it to you, and you wrapped the warm fur tightly around your shivering form before stepping out of the small chamber and leaving the Great Hall. The night was unforgiving, but the task at hand beckoned, and you were determined to fulfill your duty.

Unbeknownst to you, Dabi's sharp gaze caught your departure, and he furrowed his brows as he observed your exit. He couldn't help but wonder about your sudden absence, but Natsuo, by his side, provided a distraction by refilling his mead and engaging him in another conversation.

Unbeknownst to Dabi, another pair of keen eyes observed your departure from the Great Hall that night.

The path to the stable proved unchallenging, as you followed Hilda's directions, taking two left turns and then one right. The wooden structure loomed ahead, its massive door firmly closed. The village appeared deserted, with most of the villagers having retired to their huts or gathered within the Great Hall, consumed by their own activities and discussions.

After a bit of struggle, you managed to open the stable door. As you stepped inside, the warmth and the distinct, earthy animal smell enveloped your senses, causing you to wince slightly, not being accustomed to visiting stables frequently. Inside, a row of horses stood, their large, powerful forms exuding a quiet strength.

Your eyes fell on one particular horse, a magnificent black stallion with a flowing white mane that contrasted sharply with his dark coat. There was a certain allure to the creature, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You approached him, and with a gentle hand, you reached out to touch his soft nose.

The horse, seemingly recognizing your gentle demeanor, nuzzled your hand, allowing you to pet him. The texture of his coat was smooth and warm beneath your touch, and his eyes, deep and expressive, held a sense of wisdom. With genuine admiration, you whispered, "You're a beautiful creature, aren't you?" You whispered, petting his cheeks and forhead.

As you admired the striking black stallion in the stable, your first thought couldn't help but connect the dots – the resemblance was striking. You couldn't help but wonder if this magnificent horse was, in fact, Dabi's steed.

With a sense of accomplishment for having befriended the horse, you looked around the dimly lit stable. The moonlight streamed through the opened door, casting elongated shadows across the interior. After a brief moment of humming to yourself, your eyes fell upon a pile of wooden logs tucked away in a corner. The silver glow of the moonlight illuminated them just enough to be visible. You carefully made your way to the corner and began to pick up a few logs, cradling them in your arms. The weight of the logs felt reassuring, and you knew they would be essential for the warmth of the Great Hall's fireplace. With your task complete, you made your way back toward the door, ready to return to your shared chamber and continue your duties alongside Hilda.

As you turned around to leave the stable, you heard a brief, low chuckle, and your eyes darted toward the source of the sound. In the doorway, a figure stood, his presence initially hidden in the shadows.

"Well, well, so you're our new thrall," a voice, deceptively sweet, called out from the figure, and he stepped into the moonlight.

Uncertain about who this person was, you bowed your head respectfully and replied, "I'm sorry, but I need to take these back to the Great Hall."

You attempted to pass by the man with the logs in your arms, but before you could do so, a strong hand latched onto your arm, pulling you closer with a sudden force that caused the logs to tumble from your grasp.

"Wait, wait, easy," the two-colored eyes of the young man bore into yours in the dim moonlight.

As you saw him more clearly, you couldn't help but notice the striking contrast in his appearance. His face was remarkably handsome, his eyes mismatched with one being a captivating turquoise and the other a deep gray. His hair followed suit, evenly split between white on one side and fiery crimson on the other.

"Please, sir, let me go. I don't need any trouble," you whispered, attempting to muster the courage to speak more fluently.

The young man, his confidence evident, allowed his gaze to wander over you in a way that was both bold and borderline cocky. His eyes took in your figure, assessing your presence with a mix of curiosity and amusement. There was a playful, mischievous glint in his mismatched eyes that seemed to suggest he enjoyed the effect his scrutiny had on you.

You couldn't help but feel a mixture of discomfort as Shoto's attention remained fixed on you.

With a brazen confidence that made your heart race, the man gently took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He slowly turned your head from left to right, examining your face closely. "Well, I think I know why my brother spared your pathetic life," he mused with a sly grin, "You're not so bad looking with your doe-like eyes."

Before you could react, he leaned forward and inhaled deeply, his breath brushing over your neck. He let the tip of his tongue trace along your skin, tasting you with a sensuousness that sent shivers down your spine. "Mmmm, delicious, truly," he murmured, his voice laced with a tantalizing allure that left you trembling. "Did you already warm my brother's bed?" The man chuckled darkly, his tone dripping with mockery. "I pity you if you did. He looks so gross, and he is just a ruthless dog," he continued, one of his hands slipping down to rest on your hip. "But if you'll be a good girl, I can help you out, little one."

His words were a disturbing blend of disdain and desire, leaving you in a disconcerting predicament, trapped between your vulnerability as a thrall and the unsettling advances of a man who seemed to delight in pushing boundaries. "Let me go," you pleaded once more, your voice laced with desperation as you tried to yank yourself from his grasp. A whimper escaped your lips when one of his hands slipped beneath your skirt, pulling it upward. His smooth hand glided up your leg and caressed your inner thigh.

"Mmmm, so soft. You Christians have the softest skin, I must say," he mused with a dark chuckle. "Oh, don't resist. I promise I'll take good care of you. What? You've never been possessed by anyone until now? That's even better," he continued, his words a disturbing blend of arrogance and desire, "I'll show you what a real man has in his pants."

Your heart raced, and a sense of fear and vulnerability washed over you as you found yourself trapped in this perilous encounter with the young man. Summoning a surge of courage, you swiftly raised your knee, delivering a well-aimed strike to the man's groin.

He groaned in pain and released his grip on you.

Seizing this opportunity, you made a break for it, rushing out of the stable and turning left, only to stumble and fall into the arms of a tall figure who had intercepted your path. Gasping, you looked up and realized it was Dabi.

"Are you okay?" he inquired, tilting his head with concern.

Still trembling from the encounter with the other man, you instinctively snuggled closer to Dabi, casting an anxious glance back to see the man leaving the stable as well.

"Oh, Touyaaa," the younger man mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with our dear father, celebrating your successful raid?"

The tension between the two brothers was palpable, and you found yourself caught in the middle of their complex dynamic, uncertain of what to expect next.

"I could pose the very same question, Shoto," Dabi retorted, his tone low and filled with irritation.

So it was Shoto Endeavorson, the youngest of the earl's sons, you realized.

"Missed the festivities, Dabi?" Shoto continued to taunt, his voice dripping with mockery. "Or did you get tired of drinking mead and listening to the warriors' war stories?"

Dabi, his expression unyielding, responded with a hint of sarcasm, "Unlike you, I had more important matters to attend to."

Shoto's grin widened as he continued his verbal assault, "Important matters? I'm sure you were busy with looking for your new thrall here." His eyes flicked toward you with a knowing smirk. "She's a delicate one, isn't she? I can see why you're so taken with her."

Dabi's grip around you tightened as if to shield you from Shoto's insinuations, and he retorted in a low, measured tone, "Jealousy doesn't suit you, brother."

Shoto's taunts only grew more sarcastic, bold, and dark. "Jealousy? Me?" he feigned innocence, his grin never wavering. "Why would I be jealous of your newfound… entertainment?" He cast an appraising glance in your direction that made your skin crawl. "I can have any girl I want. I can't say that about you. Ah, our dear Touya, always the less loved of us, has managed to find himself a woman who pities his tragic past and those unsightly scars. How delightful," Shoto sneered with biting sarcasm, not stopping himself from checking you out again. "She has nice legs and ass. I'm sure her pussy is sweet too."

Dabi's patience was wearing thin, and the tension in the air thickened. His voice was low and dangerous as he warned, "Watch your words, Shoto."

But Shoto seemed determined to push his brother's buttons, his tone now dripping with malice. "Oh, Touya, you've always been so protective. But perhaps it's not jealousy I'm feeling, but concern." He walked in closer, his voice a venomous whisper. "After all, we wouldn't want another accident like the last time, would we?"

The insult hit its mark, and Dabi's temper flared. In an instant, Dabi gently pushed you aside and closed the gap between himself and Shoto. His hands shot out, gripping Shoto by the front of his shirt, nearly lifting him from the ground. "Apologize to the girl," he grunted, his voice laced with a protective edge.

Shoto, far from intimidated, mocked the situation. He sneered at Dabi, his voice filled with defiance, "Apologize? Why would I apologize to a mere thrall, Touya? She's nothing but our slave."

It happened in the blink of an eye - Dabi was the first to land a powerful blow on Shoto's face.

The confrontation between Dabi and Shoto escalated rapidly, the air filled with tension and the sound of fists connecting with flesh. The fight was fierce and unrelenting, each brother determined to gain the upper hand.

Dabi's anger fueled his strength as he delivered powerful blows, attempting to subdue his defiant younger brother. Shoto, however, was agile and determined, his own strikes landing with precision.

Amidst the chaos, you screamed for help, your voice echoing through the little paths, desperate for someone to intervene and separate the two men.

The battle raged on, a whirlwind of fists, grunts, and the sound of bodies colliding.

Dabi and Shoto ended up on the ground, a tangle of limbs and fierce determination. Shoto somehow managed to pin his older brother to a sandy path, raining blows down upon him.

Desperate to stop the violence, you rushed forward and grabbed Shoto's shirt, attempting to pull him away from Dabi. However, Shoto abruptly turned, and with a swift, brutal motion, aimed a blow at your face. The impact sent you sprawling to the ground, and you whimpered in pain, feeling warm blood trickle down from your injured nose.

"Touya! Shoto!" The deep, commanding voice reverberated through the air, halting the fight in its tracks. The imposing figure of the earl himself stood nearby, putting an end to the violent clash. "What are you doing?! Stop it right now!" Endeavor's voice commanded authority, and in that moment, Dabi seized the opportunity to push Shoto off himself, swiftly getting to his feet and bowing his head.

"Forgive me, father."

Shoto also stood up, dusting off his clothes, and gave you a cold, dismissive glance before looking up at his father. "Not my fault he started it. I just…"

"Enough!" Endeavor's growl cut through the tension. "Return to your chambers. I don't want to see any of you tonight." The earl's stern order left no room for argument.

Shoto quickly retreated from the scene with a scoff as he witnessed Dabi extending his hand to help you up from the ground.

Dabi asked if you were okay, his tone genuinely concerned, but you simply nodded and moved away from him. Being your captor, you weren't willing to stay too close to him for too long.

He offered to lead you back, but you declined, shaking your head and wiping the blood from your nose with the hem of your sleeve. Instead, you returned to the stable to retrieve the wooden locks you had left.

Later that night, after Hilda had treated your nose, you lay in your bed, shivering slightly from the cold. The unfamiliar surroundings and the tumultuous events of the day made it difficult for you to fall asleep. The night seemed to drag on, but eventually, exhaustion claimed you, and you slipped into an uneasy slumber.

In the days that followed, you hadn't seen either Shoto or Dabi. The routine of daily chores and duties kept you occupied, and it was during these tasks that you had some pleasant conversations with Natsuo, the middle brother. Despite your different backgrounds, you found him to be a kind and intelligent young man, and you developed a growing respect for him.

As you worked on preparing food, cleaning, doing laundry, milking cows, and collecting herbs, you found solace in the busy routine. It kept your mind occupied and helped you feel like a part of the settlement.

During the evenings, you always found a quiet moment to say a little prayer, clutching the small cross you wore as a charm on your necklace. It was your silent act of faith, a private connection to something beyond the Viking traditions and beliefs. So far, no one had noticed your small act of devotion.

One evening, Hilda asked you to bring food to Touya's chamber as the prince hadn't eaten anything for almost two days. Reluctantly, you agreed, taking a wooden tray and heading to his private room.

You knocked on the door, but there was no immediate response. Deciding to step inside, you found Dabi sitting in front of a long mirror, focused on sewing something. "Good evening," you greeted him, holding the tray with a meal. "I brought you a meal."

Dabi's tone was unusually cold as he said, "Leave the tray and go."

Confused and concerned by his abrupt change in behavior, you couldn't help but frown. He had never been this harsh with you before. You mustered the courage to ask what was wrong, and when he turned to face you, your heart sank.

Dabi was sewing his cheek right by the corner of his lips, mending the area where the purple skin had cracked from the healthy one. The sight of his self-inflicted wounds left you in shock, and you gasped, unable to contain your horrified reaction, instinctively covering your mouth with your hands. Oh, God…"

"There's no God of yours arund," he replied. "Just leave."

However, you couldn't bear to see him in pain, and you shook your head, silently offering to help him. "Let me help you, my lord."

After a long moment of tense silence, he finally nodded in reluctant agreement.

You approached him carefully, not wanting to make the situation worse. "I can assist you with that," you offered, your voice soft and filled with concern.

The wound on Dabi's face was a gruesome sight. His cheek, near the corner of his lips, bore a jagged tear where the purple skin had cracked in several places. Blood oozed from the fissures, creating dark, crimson streaks down his pale skin of his fingers. In one hand, he held a needle, and in the other, a set of metal staples, tools he was using to attempt to mend the torn and damaged flesh. It was a painful and gruesome process, and you couldn't help but wince at the sight. "Are you in pain?"

Dabi, his voice strained and hollow, spoke, "I don't feel much anymore. My dark skin, it's been destroyed to the point that I can't feel much of anything." He went on to explain, "It happened after my fight with Shoto. He hit me in certain spots, several times, and it left me like this, with my skin tearing like a fucking paper." The indifference in his words contrasted with the evident pain he had endured.

You felt a pang of guilt, knowing that this had happened as a result of your fight with Shoto. You took the responsibility for their intense confrontation upon yourself. "I'm so sorry, Touya… I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Dabi's expression softened as he replied, "It's okay. I don't hold a grudge. Honestly, I'm just grateful that I was in the right place at the right time. I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn't been there for you that night. My youngest brother, he's unpredictable."

You carefully assisted him, holding the needle and thread as he began to mend the torn skin. Each stitch made you wince in sympathy, and you couldn't help but ask, "Am I hurting you?"

Dabi, with a playful smirk, teased, "No, not at all. I'm just mocking." His words were light, and he continued the process, bearing the pain as he let you help him, a strange connection forming between you in that moment.

Once the task was completed, you couldn't shake the curiosity about the full story behind Dabi's scars. "Could you tell me the whole story behind your scars?"

He glanced at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you sure you're strong enough to handle it?" he teased.

You looked back at him, determination in your gaze. "I want to know, Dabi. Please share it with me." Despite the teasing and his enigmatic persona, you wanted to understand the man behind the scars and the mask.

Dabi nodded, and he began to recount the harrowing tale of his scars. His voice carried the weight of years of pain and betrayal as he spoke. "I was just a child when it happened. My father, the earl, decided that he needed to 'toughen me up' for the battles to come. It was just him making an excuse. He invited one of his most loyal warriors, a man known as Hawks, to help with my 'training.' The so-called training involved boiling tar being poured over me. The pain was excruciating, and I could feel my skin blistering and burning. Hawks and my father just stood there, watching, as I screamed in agony. They hoped I'd die." His voice trembled slightly with the memories, and there was a profound sadness in his eyes. "I endured that torment, and it left me scarred, both physically and mentally, I won't lie. But I didn't succumb to my wounds," Dabi explained, his voice holding a note of grim determination. "No, I survived. I was reborn, but not in the way my father intended. I emerged from that torment stronger, more ruthless, and unwavering in my purpose. This is the person I've become, shaped by the brutality I endured." His eyes held a fierce resolve. "As for my father's hopes of having an great heir, well, he can rest assured. No woman would willingly share her bed with me, not after what I've been through. His precious Shoto is likely to inherit the title of earl when he passes, and then his kids. It's a fate I've accepted, but the sorrow within me is still strong as it was the day it happened."

As he shared this shocking and heart-wrenching story, you couldn't help but feel a deep sympathy for the man before you. His past was filled with unimaginable suffering, and it had shaped him into the person he was today. In a moment of empathy, you placed your hand on Dabi's scarred shoulder. "We come from two different worlds, yes," you began, "and I can't pretend to understand everything you've been through. But I don't pity you. Instead, I see how the cruel path you've walked has shaped you. It's made you strong, in your own way."

Your words seemed to take Dabi by surprise. He looked at you, his turquoise eyes locking onto yours, a hint of shock in his expression.

As you turned to leave his chamber, the impact of your words lingered in the air. Dabi couldn't help but think about what you had said. Despite the brutal circumstances that had brought you together, there was something about your meeting that had left a mark on him, like the tar all those years ago.

Two months had passed since you were brought to the Viking settlement, and the seasons had shifted from summer to full autumn. The days were marked by rain and cold, but you were slowly acclimating to the new climate and your life as a thrall.

During this time, you found yourself spending more moments with Dabi. He allowed you to assist him with various tasks, whether it was helping him with chores or lending a hand in the stables with his stallion. The surprising part was how friendly his horse had become with you. The stallion would allow you to feed him hay, carrots, and apples, forging a peculiar bond between you and the majestic creature.

These moments, in the midst of a harsh and unfamiliar world, were becoming a source of connection and comfort in your life as a thrall.

Shoto dismounted his horse, his boots hitting the rocky terrain as he arrived at a quaint little hut nestled in the mountains. The view from this vantage point was breathtaking. Below, the settlement sprawled out, framed by the bay's sparkling waters that lapped against the shoreline. It was a mesmerizing sight, a serene blend of natural beauty and human existence.

He tethered his horse and entered the hut, a touch of irritation in his voice as he spoke, "Finally. I was getting slightly worried you failed me."

The hut's interior was dimly lit, a fire crackling in the hearth, and an air of secrecy hung around them.

The tall man, with his golden eyes and a hint of mockery in his voice, replied as he sat near the fireplace, "Failed you, my lord? How could I fail you?"

He was Keigo, one of Shoto and Endeavor's most trusted subordinates. Hawks was a formidable Viking warrior known for his imposing presence. Tall and lean, his blonde hair framed a strong jawline, and his golden eyes had a piercing intensity that sent shivers down his enemies' spines. What truly set him apart, though, were the intricately detailed wings tattooed on his back, a symbol of his prowess and the source of his moniker, "Hawks." Among the many tales surrounding Hawks, one gruesome reputation stood out. He was known for performing a ritual called the "blood eagle" on his defeated enemies. This horrifying act involved the careful removal of the victim's ribcage, which, when spread out, resembled the wings of an eagle. It was a terrifying spectacle designed to send a message of dread and fear to anyone who dared to cross paths with him, solidifying his reputation as a ruthless and feared warrior.

Shoto folded his arms, still a touch irritated. "I need to know, Takamison, did you do as I instructed? Did you find the information we need?"

Hawks nodded to Shoto, his golden eyes filled with the excitement of discovery. "I did as you instructed, my lord, and I've learned some intriguing information. Earl Gizzor is indeed working for another, very powerful earl. He resides in the northern part of Sweden. What's even more interesting is that this earl used to work closely with your father, Endeavor, years ago. They were allies in many ventures, but it seems their partnership turned sour due to a significant conflict of interests and businesses."

His voice held a hint of anticipation, eager to see how Shoto would react to this newfound information that could have far-reaching consequences.

Shoto lounged casually in a chair near the fireplace, his legs crossed, and one arm draped lazily against the chair's back. "Alright," he said with a nonchalant air. "Tell me everything you've discovered."

Keigo, still standing, couldn't resist a hint of mocking amusement. "Well, my lord, before I share such valuable information, I believe it's only fair that I see my payment first, don't you think?" He grinned, clearly enjoying the moment of leverage.

Shoto's eyebrows narrowed as he reluctantly reached under his leather vest. He retrieved a small woolen money bag and tossed it casually at Hawks' feet. The bag jingled with the sound of golden coins.

Hawks picked it up, his glare quickly replaced by a sly smirk as he counted the coins inside. "You're surprisingly generous today," he commented. After a brief pause, he leaned in, his voice lowered. "The powerful earl your father used to work with is none other than Toshinori Yagison."

"All Might," Shoto grinned. "Well, well."

"So, what's my mission now?" Keigo inquired, polishing his sword.

Shoto couldn't help but grin widely. "You see, after Touya's successful raid, he's been gaining favor in our father's eyes. I can't allow that to happen; Touya can't regain a powerful position in our family again. I need him either dead or sent on a mission he'll never return from."

Hawks considered Shoto's words, and a dark, intriguing plan formed in his mind. "I've got an idea, a mission that might just solve your problem," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Hawks leaned in, outlining his devious plan to Shoto. "Here's what we'll do. We'll create a fabricated map, detailing a journey to a remote and dangerous territory, one that's rumored to be filled with riches. I'll make sure it falls into the right hands—specifically, someone who will share it with Dabi. And once Touya embarks on this perilous journey, we'll ensure he never returns. Whether it's the treacherous terrain, bandits, or an 'unfortunate accident,' he'll be out of the picture for good."

Shoto nodded in approval, his grin revealing the sinister pleasure he took in the plan. "Very well, Hawks. Let's set this plan into motion, and rid me of my brother's growing influence."

Hawks pulled aside his shirt, revealing a massive scar that marred his otherwise unblemished skin. The scar extended from the side of his neck all the way down to his lower abdomen, a gruesome reminder of the harrowing encounter he'd had in the North of Norway. "I ventured to a dark place up north," Hawks began, his voice heavy with the memory. "A desolate, forgotten land where it's easy to get lost, and danger lurks in the shadows. I was attacked by something… something I've never even seen. It left me with this."

Shoto couldn't help but flinch at the sight of the scar.

"The locals speak of a malevolent force, a powerful draugr said to inhabit that forsaken place. It's haunted, and some claim the spirit of a vengeful Viking warrior resides there. I barely escaped with my life, and I'd advise no one to venture into that cursed territory."

Shoto listened intently, and a wicked smile crossed his face. "Perfect. That's precisely the place we need to send my dear brother. If the draugr doesn't get him, the treacherous terrain will."

Shoto left Hawks' hut with a dark grin etched on his face. As he mounted his horse, his mind was abuzz with the sinister plan he was concocting. The idea of getting rid of Dabi, his older brother, appealed to him more with each passing moment. With Dabi out of the way, he would be next in line to claim the throne after their father's demise. The pieces of his twisted plan were falling into place, and he was ready to set it in motion. As he rode back towards the Skjaldvargr, a wicked glint danced in his eyes, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of power and anticipation. Shoto was determined to ensure that Endeavor's days as the earl would be far from long and happy. He was willing to do whatever it took to ascend to the position of power he believed he deserved, and nothing would stand in his way.

heathen wolves: @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan

[yore-donatsu]

So pragmatic and realistic. Hyde ! Stop it !  Literally two seconds after this monologue, you’ll be cheerful when you ask Theo "Whatever ! Let's see what the chefs have prepared for tonight ! ♥”

Local monkey child finds similarities with a vampire lord, about the stupidity of monarchs.

Mister Hyde-@yore-donatsu

[theplottdump]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥

I had like 3 of these sitting in my inbox for months and I am like paralyzed by them but I'll see what I can come up with! Thank you for thinking of me :')

Diego García - Five Facts 🌵

🌵: Diego was created for me by @molloopsy! Ilu Molly! You make the prettiest molly men.

🌵🌵: Diego's name is a mexican inspired play on Dave Gregory from Her Interactive's Nancy Drew: The Secret of Shadow Ranch. Yee Haw Baby, Very Yee Haw.

🌵🌵🌵: In my head Chavo the ranch dog rolled up as a stray when he was little and the ranch hands never bothered settling on a name for him so they all just called him Chavo or 'boy' ¡Chavo - Ven aquí!

🌵🌵🌵🌵: The locals in Chestnut Ridge gave Diego the nickname of Golden Boy because of the whole teen riding prodigy thing as well as him always helping out around town and generally havin' a good heart. It's not his favorite.

🌵🌵🌵🌵🌵: Diego and Viv used to compete in the same riding competitions when they were teenagers. Like every other 14-16 year old boy in town he had a bit of a crush on her but backed off when she started dating her high school sweetheart who she later married a year after graduating.

Was this fun? Is this interesting? Fuck if I know - but thank you!!!

[johaerys-writes]

Hello! Only if you don't mind, are you up for a Snippet Sunday? Thank you so much for your Patrochilles fics, I love all of them soooo much♥

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy my fics! I've been working on a western AU (aka patrochilles but make them cowboys) so here's a snippet from the first chapter:

The boy that’s standing at the ranch’s threshold is the last thing Achilles would have expected to see. He must be about fourteen, fifteen at most; his face is dark and sunburnt beneath the shadows of his wide-brim hat, his neck glistening with sweat in the waning light. He holds himself up tall, though it’s clear by his posture and his clothes that he’s been travelling for the better part of the day, perhaps longer.

“Are you lost?” Achilles asks him. It isn’t very often that they get visitors this time of day, or evening. 

The boy gives him a long, level look, fidgeting with the strap of the pack hanging off his shoulder, which seems to be his only possession. “This the Pelides ranch?” he asks, voice hoarse and scratchy with exhaustion. His soft drawl sounds vaguely southern, but not from a place Achilles can easily discern.

“The very same.” 

“Is the owner home? Mister Pelides?”

“Who’s asking?”

The boy tenses. “I’d rather speak to him direcly, if it's all the same to you.” 

Achilles gives him a careful look-over, his thumb tucked behind his belt. He doesn’t look like a desperado—too young, perhaps, for that, though Phthia's been seeing more and more of them— and he’s no peddler either; he's got no wares to sell that Achilles can see. His clothes would have once been of good make though they’re now worn and dusty, and the silver spurs on his boots mark him as anything but a laboring man. Whoever he is, he must have been well off… at some point.

Achilles hesitates for a moment before he gives the dogs a clipped command. They all sit on their haunches as Achilles swings the door open to let the boy in. He waits for Achilles to bar the gates again and lead him up to the house’s front porch, where Peleus and Chiron are now curiously watching. 

“What’s your name, son?” Peleus asks, a friendly yet cautious smile on his lips as they ascend the porch steps. 

“Patroclus, sir.”

“And what’s your father’s name, Patroclus?” 

Patroclus’ jaw clenches. “I ain’t got none, sir.” 

Peleus’ expression softens just a little with genuine compassion at this. His father's always had a soft spot for those without family, home or hope. "Well, I'm really sorry to hear that." He rocks a little back and forth on his rocking chair, his smoking pipe dangling from his lips. “What can I do for you, Patroclus?”

“Looking for work,” Patroclus says without preamble. “I'm strong, and I work fast. I can bale hay and buck barley and clean the cattle pens, and fix them fallen fence posts what I saw on my way in—or anything else that needs fixing.”

Peleus considers this for a long moment. “Hay season is still a ways away,” he remarks thoughtfully. “And I’ve got enough men for the fences and the barley and the cattle. Come back in a month and I’ll have work for you.”

His tone is dismissal enough. Peleus pushes himself up and turns towards the house, missing the boy’s face that instantly falls at his words. Patroclus' dark eyes go wide in alarm and his mouth works soundlessly for a moment, lips cracked by the heat and the sun. He must have been out under the blazing hot sun of the valley for days, weeks by the looks of it. His hands are soft though, delicate fingers tightening over the brim of his hat. Hands that probably haven’t known half the work they claim they have.

Achilles’ heart clenches, inexplicably, at this.

“Calving and foaling season is almost upon us,” he tells his father carelessly. He picks up the old saddle he’d set aside before the boy showed up, and starts absently working on the stitching again. “Last year we were running ourselves rugged day and night; sure would help to have another set of hands around.”

Peleus stops short. Patroclus stares at Achilles, but his surprise lasts only for a moment before he hurries to say, “I’ve worked with cattle before, and I’ve grown around horses. I can ride a horse and train a horse for carriage and for riding and muck out the stalls. I can do anything you tell me, and I won’t ask for nothing more than a hot meal and a place to sleep.”

He doesn’t say ‘please’ but Achilles can almost hear it, at the tip of his tongue. He catches himself silently begging his father to take the boy in.

Peleus stays quiet for a long minute, his face obscured by the smoke of his pipe. “Pay is ten drachmae a day, plus board and lodging. The men’s bunks are full; you’ll have to sleep in the barn for now. This alright with you?”

“Yes, sir,” Patroclus says, and the palpable relief in his voice is almost…heartbreaking. “Thank you, sir.”