#probably since its been a while since i saw him

[verridaiya]

—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

[hitlikehammers]

Rockstar!Eddie Leaves What He Had With Steve Behind in Hawkins 💔 to Chase His Dreams 🎸

(so why is it that he’s back in Steve’s bed Hawkins every couple months for ‘very pressing reasons’ that are straining Steve’s heart honestly anything but? 🫤❤️‍🩹🥺)

NOTE: this was originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo AGES ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because something for the @steddielovemonth is going to be posted soon that is a standalone in its universe, but also very much a sequel to it ♥️

Steve really does try not to think about it in terms of…time.

Maybe that’s foolish. It’s mostly denial. Lots of it isn’t reliable anyway: the score his body keeps isn’t accurate, war-time left over from too many near-misses with a fucking alternate dimension but the popping in his joints and the ringing in his ears and the white hair he pulled out of his scalp and stared blankly at in the sink for a good twenty minutes: those are real things, but they don’t chart the passage of days, of hours, months and fucking years with any real meaning.

It’s been four years. Roughly. Depending on what the start point is. Whether it’s that Spring Break. Whether it’s the first winter. Or the spring after, when Robin begged him to go with her—there’s still time. She still begs, because they still talk given the thread inside them stays tied unbreakable to one another, oblivious to miles between. Maybe it’s measuring from the graduations, the kids—only Erica’s left at Hawkins High, now, though Steve gets calls from the whole bunch of them, Eleven the most, which was maybe surprising, then it’s a good split between Dustin and Will, another surprise. Max calls enough but her calls are calls, with a weight most of the others lack. Lucas’s calls aren’t super frequent but always long, mostly because he talks around the point forever, whatever the point happens to be. Even Mike usually ends up on the other end of the line once a month. It’s…that could be where the time starts from.

Or it could be the summer, that first summer. The one that taught Steve what it was to have a heart just to fucking break it.

Could be that. Impossible to say.

(It’s been 3 years, 7 months, and 14 days. Steve had only counted in retrospect, in the wreckage left behind, because while he’d known there was a deadline in it, to it all, he’d thought he could be enough. That he could change a mind. He’d thought…

Foolish things. Bullshit. Didn’t matter. Could be any fucking date.)

But since the point's come up, and it’s front of Steve’s mind, his least favorite (most favorite) place to find it: he hadn’t expected it. Robin liked to say she saw the signs but. Steve hadn’t watched it happen in slow motion because there wasn’t a single goddamn slow thing about it. Which was…for whatever it was worth, Steve knew falling fast and hard and with everything he was had maybe failed him every time, thus far, but at least he knows that for him?

That means it’s real. He’s all in. He might not be met equal on the other side of the equation—hadn’t been yet, maybe wouldn’t be ever, but he wasn’t having any luck trying to fucking change that fact so, learning to work with what he had was the best he could do. And he had love. He’d never been able to name it to himself so far: not before, and certainly never since. But.

Figuring out the sexuality thing had been a not-bathroom-but-definitely-floor talk on the shitty Family Video carpet sometime around November of ‘85. Slow days, idle comments, and Robin’s suspiciously-but-reliably-gentle-when-the-need-was-dire hand to his shoulder to say no, no: actually wanting to kiss people of any gender wasn’t really…the default Steve had always expected it had to be. How could anyone look at, say, Harrison Ford and not think, oh yeah, I would at least suck his face?

Turned out probably at least half the people on the planet. As in the straight guys and the lesbians. Steve had spent the majority of three days on that disgusting fucking carpet, open to close, popping up to ask Robin if she was sure because what about—

She was sure. And eventually, through a couple of needs for deep breathing and a handful of assurances that it was okay to cry—he appreciated that, but he kept the crying to his room after these long-ass shifts and if Robin stayed for some of those times, that was because she was half his head, half his heart, and she knew what he was going to do sometimes before he did.

They did end up on the floor of his bathroom, a clean one for once, at one point. Maybe because they both held to tradition. Maybe because Steve had largely come to terms with the mindfuck of yet another piece of his world, his self unravelling and rewriting itself, and thought the vodka in his dad’s liquor cabinet was a good way to celebrate. The label was entirely in Russian and Robin had been practicing on hers, said she was pretty sure it was the good shit.

Sometimes you can drink enough of the best shit on an empty stomach, though, and still spew the whole of it up.

Steve sometimes does think he drinks his dad’s best liquor that way on purpose, though. Delightful going down and yeah, it sucks to chuck it up but. The idea that it’s ultimately wasted feels…right.

Anyway: Steve had settled with it all by New Year's, and while he’d hosted the rugrats who could only blabber about their latest campaign with their epic DM, and he’d kissed Robin when the clock turned, well. It felt like a new start, a fresh page.

Something that had the chance at being a good thing.

And nothing much happened in the two-and-a-half-months that followed save for finally catching a glimpse of the D&D god who ran their little club while he was idling in his car to pick up the shitheads, this legendary DM who did not make Steve jealous one tiny bit and who was cool and was edgy and was so fuckin’ cool, Steve, did we tell you got cool he is?! and Steve had said language as monotone as he could before he squinted as out came all the metal and the ink and he’d said your club president dude is Eddie goddamn Munson and he should have kept his mouth shut because the amount of talking that ensued left him with a headache the size of Montana; but.

That was really all that happened until about…mid-March.

Then Spring Break happened.

It could be argued Eddie and Steve grew close enough to pass the acquaintances benchmark, ended up as at least tentative friends on top of necessary battle mates as early as the Upside Down. Whatever reason Eddie gave, he jumped in after Steve. Whatever speech Steve landed on, he didn’t want Dustin orEddie hurt.

It could be argued Steve wasn’t paying attention and didn’t stop in time and landed in the land of Tentative Friends You Wouldn’t Mind Added Benefits With after the…at least after the way Eddie leaned in close and his lips we so red and he called Steve big boy and…

Yeah.

When Steve carries what may or may not be Eddie’s still fucking corpse out of the Upside Down—he can’t tell, every time he tries to check again his own heart's too loud, his own breaths too shaky—but by then, they’re family. Bound in blood. Steve would die for him, like the others. He won’t let him die, if he can fucking help it.

Between him and Max, Steve almost crashes, breaks. Steve’s there when Max’s fingers twitch and he laughs with tears in his eyes and hands over hands and tells her he loves her and he’s sorry and he’s there, tries to talk around the letter he opened and resealed without evidence because Steve knows some tricks too, okay, and her words had broken him but now he could live up to what she thought she was leaving behind, could make sure she had every goddamn thing she thought she was giving up in spades, to roll around in in abundance. He was going to take care of her, whatever she needed. Whatever it took.

Her lips had quirked and the doctors called coincidence, don’t get your hopes up but; Steve knew Max. That was all her.

And there were more tears, he let her fucking feel them; he fucking hoped she’d notice, and remember, and give him so much shit.

Eddie takes longer, pulls out of the woods enough to exhale a few days later, and the way Steve slips out to find the hospital chapel, the only goddamn place he won’t be found by anyone he knows, and bawls his goddamn eyes out?

It’s family, and it’s love because it’s family but…it’s been so quick. It’s been intense, and that probably speeds it along but…

Shit. Shit.

That’s when Steve knows he sets a new goddamn record for himself and falls hard and heavy and stupidin, like, a week and change. Jesus Christ.

It’s in the recovery that they build something though. Something that’s not trauma or terror or the threat of imminent death. Steve spends most of his hours between two hospital rooms listening to progress reports and taking notes and the kids gravitate toward Max—Dustin would have been the outlier but Steve knows he’s not ready, and so he gives his own updates just to his brother when he drives him home after visiting hours—but that means Steve’s Eddie’s most common conversation partner. They talk about bullshit. Steve defends a-ha to the last breath he has. Eddie’s rendered speechless for a second and then frantic when challenged to pick his favorite band. Again when it’s his favorite song, from his favorite band. And again when it’s his favorite song of any song, ever at all. Steve's heart swells in the watching. He’s foolish enough to bask in the glittering of Eddie’s eyes when Steve indulges in talking, scene by scene as guided by the master in the bed beside him, about what his opinions on Star Wars really were. And then guided by no one, just invited to share what his opinions are on the last movie he saw and loved: which was Weird Science, the last movie he watched in a theatre because he and Robin had gone to face their fear or some shit after Starcourt and it was easier than he’d expected. Eddie listens, and nods, and asks if they can rent it when he’s out, before making sure to add  but you should really have a new choice like, eight months later, man, you work at a video store.

Steve was mostly just focused on Eddie more than implying, of his own volition, that he wanted to have a movie night.

Eddie’s released before Max, largely for mobility reasons, so they both go to visit her now. Robin’s put on the night shift when they schedule their movie night and Steve immediately moves to reschedule but she says no, she’s seen it, make Eddie suffer this time. So it’s just them.

They sit closer than they have to, on the couch.

And it’s little things that build from there. Max’s physical therapy is a government secret, like some fancy space-age protocol that has real hopes to put her on her feet again so she needs a ride, and while they could take turns, Steve and Eddie just take turns as to which vehicle they hop into to drive her. They stay when she needs them—not when she asks because she’s Max and she never asks—but it ends up three days a week back and forth and during: together.

And a lot of nights, for a movie or a smoke or a nightmare or a pulled stitch before they’re all taken out: together.

And shifts where Steve doesn’t even bother to bring his own lunch because Eddie Munson, unpredictable and wholly forgetful super-super senior—who Nancy and Hopper and most of all Joyce convinced the School would be finishing his final senior year at home save for tests, and only that once he was cleared by his doctors—that Eddie Munson brought Steve something every single time he worked. A burger, a chili dog, chicken fucking nuggets. A PB&J clearly homemade and cut diagonal.

So yeah. It starts out how it does when Steve’s in trouble. But it builds like…Steve’s never known before.

They kiss in May. Maybe so that it’s not their first, and a total cliche, when Steve kisses him for graduation behind the bleachers.

The sleep together after graduation, high on the thrill of it, and that’s maybe a cliche but Steve could not give a shit less.

And then they're EddieandSteve, only to find out they have been for a while; and this is just something a little deeper, a little bit more.

In ways that mean everything.

Looking back, Steve knows Eddie never minced words about his plan to leave Hawkins in the fall. With a mixtape and a prayer if I have to, Stevie-boy, he’d said once even, and Steve had laughed.

He’d fucking laughed.

So he’d known.

But July bleeds into August and Steve…Steve’s in love, okay, for real in a way that he’s never felt before. Right in a way he’s never felt before. He kinda just…overlooks it. Because Eddie seems to be at least on the same wavelength. Touches him first, reaches for him first: wants him. Looks at him with not just desire or attraction but…something no one’s ever looked at Steve with before.

And so he hopes. More than hopes.

But when Eddie starts packing, Steve can’t breathe.

He buys a set of luggage and goes home to start the same, has half of his not-excessive possessions shoved in when he realizes:

He’s not invited. Eddie’s never asked him to come.

Looking back, he’s afraid he wasted too much of those last weeks. Scared of giving too much away, the hurt from so many sides and the heartache that’s already taking root, but also: the way he clings, but tries not to make it obvious.

Fuck; but of course it was gonna be obvious, and how much energy did he waste, how many opportunities slipped by, because Steve was trying not to give away that Eddie leaving—to get away from a town that hated him, to try and make a real go with his music, to be anywhere without Steve so he could live out the dreams that predated Steve, that Steve had no place in—to try not to give away that all of it; it’d fucking destroy him.

Steve doesn’t know, to this day, how he stood and let Eddie kiss him breathless out the driver-side window, how he waved until Eddie was out of sight. He doesn’t know.

Kind of like he doesn’t know how he fucking keeps doing it.

Eddie throws tapes to every radio station with Van Halen or other top-played bands written on the insert in sharpie like that gives nothing away, and sneaks a demo in every underpaid delivery boy’s hands to record executives as he drives to the West Coast, sends Steve postcards what seems like has to be every goddamn day, filled up with his rambling until there’s no space left, has to draw lines around Steve’s address to make it clear where the damn thing’s going lest it get confused. Like they’re SteveandEddie still. Like only…only the things that changed after graduation are gone.

Steve sobs after about a month of it all, grateful and resentful, hateful and still so goddamn full of love it’s sickening. Literally, it makes him feel nauseous. He…

He keeps every postcard.

When one of them comes to say some idiot in San Francisco accidentally played Corroded Coffin on what’s apparently an important station, and Eddie got a letter in response from one of the labels, he says he’s coming back for the boys, they need to be ready. Steve knows he’s not one of the boys, but.

Eddie wouldn’t have told Steve he was coming if it wouldn’t matter to Steve. And maybe Eddie wasn’t in love with him anymore, maybe never was in love with him.

But he’d be lying if he said he thought Eddie didn’t love him. In a different way. A…you-don’t-get-to-come-with-me-but-I’d-still-want-to-see-you-when-I-stop-back kind of way.

And Steve…Steve’s not a fucking monk or anything. But even Robin doesn’t try to push him when he finally just tells her what he feels, lovesick and pathetic as it is:

I gave everything I had to someone else, and it’d be different if I wanted to back, to give again, but…I don’t.

I don’t want it back, not from him. Not if any part of him, wants to keep any part of it.

And because she’s Robin, she knows he means something else when he says ‘it’. And because she’s Robin? She’d push if she thought it was worth it.

She just holds him, and that’s really the best thing he could ask for.

But it becomes a thing. The boys go with Eddie, and they record new shit to impress...whoever. And they do. They come back for Halloween, because Eddie loves it. The label’s dragging its feet, but they’re not deterred, they’re energized. They come back for Thanksgiving because Wayne loves it—except he doesn’t, Steve knows that, Wayne actually hates trying to make a bird and Eddie had lamented more than once that they ended up with lunchmeat cut into cubes one year when Wayne was particularly frustrated with the process. They go out East, and try a few studios in New York. They come back for Christmas.

Eddie spends most of his time with Steve. Steve doesn’t fucking fight that; wants it…like…

There’s nothing to compare how he wants it to. Nothing exists that fits.

Eddie spends most of the time that he spends with Steve, though?

In Steve’s bed.

And here’s the thing: Steve had a decent amount of experience to compare to, but once they’d fallen into a rhythm, got past the awkward bits, the learning curve? Sex with Eddie had been a goddamn revelation. Not just because he was a man—after he’d left, Steve had forced himself to try, and dispelled that possibility quick as hell—and now?

Now, it’s like they never stopped. Every fucking time, it’s like they never stopped.

Steve’s not surprised in the slightest that he remembers every give and tell of Eddie’s body—of course he goddamn does—but that Eddie doesn’t miss a beat in touching, sucking, licking, worshippingSteve’s? That’s insane. That’s…

Unexpected. Every time it’s unexpected and every time Steve’s shown he wasn’t forgotten when he probably should have been. Eddie’s building a life that doesn’t include him.

He’ll only get in the way.

But Steve is selfish and stubborn and maybe it’s often, like almost strangely so, but it’s only a week or two at a go so he tells himself he’s allowed. He tells himself that it felt like making love in the beginning because Steve was in love, and that it still feels exactly the same because Steve…Steve never stopped.

Steve is still just as goddamn in love.

So yeah. Steve sleeps with Eddie and it’s like…it’s like rationed air. He gets a regular taste and he gets to keep breathing.

And it’s okay. Probably more then. Because he gets Eddie—even a little bit. Even just in scraps. When he has Eddie?

He has him, even for moments that were never made to last.

It’s Easter, this time. The band put out their first record in January. It’s doing really well. Eddie’s over the moon. Someone called about a magazine cover for a publication in Cleveland that’s apparently kind of a big deal, Alt..something. Steve will buy every copy in a fucking 100-mile radius. 200 miles. 500—

It’s Easter. Eddie didn’t lament not celebrating it after Spring Break in ‘86 but he’s back every year now. And if it’s just…come to mean something, or maybe did then and circumstances won out against it? Steve will be here. Steve will be comfort and a reprieve or a hot as hell romp with a familiar body, Steve will…

Yeah. Steve will do whatever’s needed. Wanted. Anything.

Pathetic.

But so much better than nothing.

Case in point: they’re both naked, sweat mostly dried, sharing a joint and it’s comfortable. It’s quiet and gentle and put up against sitting alone on a weeknight, not with Eddie?

It’s heaven.

“So when’s the dream happening?”

Steve looks cross-eyed toward his lips; he hasn’t smoked this thing long enough to have heard wrong. He squints up at Eddie, whose chest he’s laid out on, confused. Offers him the smoke but he waves it away.

“The dream?” Steve asks finally, when Eddie doesn’t seem to want to answer on his own.

Eddie looks at him weird. Not weird for its own sake but like: like he’s staring into him, and then like he’s disbelieving, but then also like he’s seeing him for the first time.

That kind of weird.

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Eddie answers like it’s obvious. “White picket fence. Little nuggets.” He spreads his hands as wide as possible without tossing Steve from where he lies. “See the sights.”

And Steve’s response is immediate. Doesn’t even require a thought.

He laughs. Like, ugly-laughs.

“Man,” he shakes his head as he catches his breath, and passes the joint off this time with purpose, not an offer or a choice as he snorts a little; “that’s not the dream.”

When Eddie doesn’t grab the smoke, Steve finally looks up. Eddie…

Eddie looks like what Steve’s always struggled to understand the word ‘poleaxed’ to mean. He thinks it might be this.

He looks…like something stuck him through the gut. Slapped him silly across the face.

“What d’ya mean?” And it’s just three words, one that’s a cheat, and he says it slow enough to take an age.

Steve breathes out, and then, if he’s gonna be honest, and if he has to keep holding the damn thing anyway, decides to take another drag before speaking:

“Figured out what the dream was, inside the dream,” Steve says, wondering if he’ll get away with the vagary; knowing he won’t.

“All we see or seem?” Eddie jokes a little, but it falls flat, his tone eerily kinda…strained but hollow.

“I like poetry.” Steve smiles up at him, soft, and offers the joint again straight to Eddie’s lips. He takes it this time.

“It was about family. It was about stability, not,” Steve shakes his head, stops talking half-assed around the lungful he’s holding, and lets it out slow; “not in a place, fuck, not in a house, but,” a person he doesn’t say, but he hears it in his head; “it was about sharing it.”

And that's it. That’s the simplest, most straightforward truth. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything complicated, or offensive in it. Hard to swallow. Even if he’s come to terms with it. Is mostly at peace with it.

Which is why it’s weird, that Eddie feels suddenly rigid beneath him.

So Steve turns, and braces his hand on Eddie's chest for balance, and frowns when he doesn’t even have to push down to feel the way his heart’s a fucking riot.

“What?” Steve asks, gentle; Eddie’s face is a portrait of conflict, of distress and Steve can’t fucking figure out why, they just came like four times between them and are sharing some very nice Cali weed—they’re nestled close, they’re together, it’s…

Eddie’s quiet, his breath disconcertingly steady for how his pulse pounds, and then he breathes out slow before covering his face:

“I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I already have, so,” he mutters, dejected for reasons Steve can’t even guess, then he laughs, humorless, shakes his head:

“Let me try, I guess.”

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, until:

“I’ve been in love with you forever.”

Steve thinks the world stops. His heart does, at least. Suspended. Silent so he doesn’t miss a syllable.

“And I told myself,” Eddie bites at his lip, worries at the bottom swell; “end of that summer, from the very first, I said: don’t ask him to come with you, even if it breaks your heart,” and oh god, oh god after all this time: Steve doesn’t think he’s projecting to hear the genuinely broken heart in those words for just remembering.

“Don’t ask him to settle, you’re not even in the same universe of what he wants,” fuck, what lies Eddie’s saying; did he believe them? Has he always—“what he needs.”

But Eddie is everything he needs, always was, will always be—

“You’ll never have the picket fence. You can’t give him his nuggets. You should never be trusted to park a Winnebago.”

They could have had a shitty studio apartment. They could have had the kids in college. They could have run the BMW until it died, or sold it to put toward a better van for equipment. They could have—

“You’re selfish, Munson, you’re a rat fucking bastard but,” Eddie’s still going, heart still hammering under Steve’s touch even as Eddie swallows hard and fails to smile, looks ill with the attempt like it hurts to try: “you love him too much for that.”

Oh. Oh god.

“It didn’t break my heart, though,” Eddie clears his throat and glances away, to the ceiling, eyes too bright: oh fuck; “broke my goddamn soul,” and a tear falls, and Steve can’t help but wipe it away, and kiss the track. Even just once.

So he does.

“When I saw you again that first time back,” Eddie starts again, voice rougher and shakier as he reaches a hand for Steve’s. “I could have asked the boys to fly out, the execs offered, but,” and this time, the attempt to grin is more successful, like a weight’s lifted from it: “and you smiled at me, it felt like,” and when he shakes his head this time it’s for disbelief, but the kind that comes with awe; “and when we slotted back together like we’d never been apart, it was…”

Eddie’s voice trails, but it cracks at the end—Steve doesn’t know which does more to stop his words.

He’s grateful, relieved, when they come back. He’s powerless but to give when Eddie touches his cheek so gentle and breathes:

“And I had to tell myself again, and again,” he murmurs, stroking Steve’s skin like he’s precious: “you love him too much to take his dream away from him.”

“What did it matter?” Steve can’t help but ask, no malice in it, just the need to understand. “You had your dream, you have—“

They have a contract. They have an album climbing the charts. They’re not just on their way—they’re there. The only next step is to get bigger, and bigger, and—

“Dreams within dreams, wasn’t it?” Eddie murmurs close to Steve’s cheek, where maybe he’s pressing to be close, or maybe he’s hiding a little, so Steve strokes his hair because he can either way and relishes how Eddie leans, melts into it like always. “Inside the dream?”

Steve nods, more to encourage more words. More Eddie.

“Break my dream open and there’s you with me, every step,” Eddie whispers, his lips warm on Steve’s skin. “Break my heart open, same damn thing,” and that causes Steve to shudder, and his heart to pick up now, too. “Both just kinda crumble if you take out the center.”

Steve can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wants to. Doesn’t think they’re lies. It’s just, he…

“Those,” Steve tries to speak but his voice cracks; he clears his throat and kicks his lips while he tucks Eddie into his neck, under his chin: “those would be good lyrics.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head and nuzzles Steve’s throat with the motion and this can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening, can it?

“No, those words were only ever meant just for you.”

And Eddie kisses the pulse point close to his mouth and holds there, like a sentry and a miser, and holy shit.

Holy shit.

“And I don’t know,��� Eddie’s saying more, but it’s pitchy, thready, like he’s barely holding the words together at all; “I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or convenience, or routine,” his voice breaks again and the sob’s in the word when it comes even if it’s not streaming down on his cheeks: “pity,” and no, no, not fucking ever, how—

“I was never your dream then, and I don’t even know if I can be your inside-dream now, and,” Eddie’s rambling, and he does that when he’s desperate, when he’s overwhelmed and overfull with feeling—and Steve knows that. Steve knows that about him.

Steve knows. Better than he knows himself, Steve still knows him.

“I just want the world for you,” Eddie whispers, stroking up and down Steve’s jaw; “my sweetheart. My sunshine,” he smiles so real and soft and Steve melts, like the heart in his chest starts spilling through his ribs, warm and liquid: “you deserve more than the world, more than fuckin’ me and I,” Eddie shakes his head again, more this time like he’s stopping himself, like it’s a defense mechanism and Steve reaches for his cheeks, broad palms on either side to hold him still because…he doesn’t want Eddie to stop.

Ever.

“Did I ruin it?” Eddie breathes, and barely at that, eyes so wide and swimming and oh, god; “did I—"

And Steve can’t help it. He can’t help but kiss him with all he’s got, even if it couldn’t be all Eddie’s worth in all the world. Steve can’t contain all that Eddie’s worth.

But he can give everything, because this is the man who already has it.

“What the hell was I supposed to be to a rockstar?” Steve tries to talk through his own tight throat, his own growing smile, his own threat of tears bubbling close to the surface. “How the fuck was I ever going to measure up, ever do anything but hold you back when you could have—“

“I come back to you, for you,” Eddie answers immediate; it’s not what Steve’s asking but he won’t lie and say he didn’t want to know, at least a little. “The handful of times I’ve tried,” Eddie shakes his head once now, definitive; “I have always left my everything with you.”

The idea that Steve’s spent all this time feeling empty, and hollow, and missing the best of himself where it lived in the man he loved—the idea he was wrong, that they both were so fucking wrong is…insanity.

“I had a bag half packed.”

Steve doesn’t need to explain further. The noise Eddie makes is pure pain.

“Baby,” he nearly croons, falls into Steve somehow closer, wraps him up tighter; “I wanted to kidnap you in the night.”

“I sobbed in my bed after you were out of sight.”

“I pulled over before the town sign, because I couldn’t see the goddamn road.”

And Steve…Steve doesn’t really have a decision to make about what he says next. What dream he wants; always has.

“I never got rid of the luggage.”

And Eddie hears everything he says in those words, because after everything, Eddie Munson knows him, and…yeah.

Steve’s been kissed in a lot of ways before. By this man in particular, even.

But this: if leaving broke Eddie’s soul, if somehow the lack of Steve somehow did that?

This is…this is the body meeting another body, heart to heart and tasting the way a soul slides back in place. It's Eddie’s hands in his hair like hell never let go and he’s happy about the idea; blissful for it, even. It’s—beyond anything Steve’s ever known. So: yeah.

It’s not a decision. It’s just a fucking given.

♥️

🎸also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

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[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Feb 10th

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1. Hello! o/ I'm looking for a fic I saw last year on ao3 but couldn't read it, then when I looked to read it I couldn't find it.

I think the description said that: Wei WuXian and Jiang YanLi decide to run away together with Jin Ling, and after 13 years since they left the cultivation world, Lan JingYi finds them by chance.

I can't remember if the tag(s) or description says A-Yuan is with them or if the Wen Remnants survived and ran with them. But I'm sure the action takes place after Jin ZiXuan dies and Wen Qing is probably dead and Wen QiongLin is captured and imprisoned by the Jin Sect (Not so sure about the last part with Wen Qing and Wen QiongLin).

I also think the Wei Ying | Wei WuXian/Lan Zhan | Lan WangJi tag was also at relationships (I think, not sure).

I hope that helps, I really tried to remember more details but unfortunately that's all I can remember, I hope maybe someone finds this fic, and even if not, thanks a lot for trying and have a nice day or evening! <3

FOUND? it's a long road but we're not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 62k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, LWJ & LJY, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

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2. Hello! :) I’m looking for a modern AU where Wen Qing tells WWX (platonically) that she loves him, and he is surprised and starts crying, I think. She’s confused that he didn’t know. She may have been warning him to be careful about starting a relationship w LWJ or telling him that she approves if that’s what he wants. Thank you!! 💕 @sadgargoylesss

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3. Please help! I know this fic, but when I search the tags I expect it to be under its not there! Canon divergent au where the wen remnants survive by leaving the burial mounds in small groups and finding jobs elsewhere. Teacher Wei Wuxian who ends up founding a schooling in filing after initially starting off by looking after the little kids while their parents and grandparents work. Identity shenanigans, bc no one realises it's wwx who is running the school, including jwy who yells at him when the school gets in trouble for not paying taxes. I'm pretty sure the opening line to the summary was something like "like a stream flowing downhill the wens left the burial mounds" something like that. It's a long fic. At one point lwj arrives at BM to find no one there and thinks they've all died. This happens again when the Jin go to kill them.

Thanks for your help! 🩷 @theladypeartree

FOUND? Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, WangXian, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Mojo's bookmark)

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4. Hello! I love this page!!!

I’m looking for a twitter threadfic!

It’s about LWJ transmigrating from being an omega concubine to the YLLZ (and dying in childbirth) to becoming a newly-destitute socialite(?) and using all his omega concubine seduction skills to woo himself into being (?CEO) WWX’s sugar baby.

Meanwhile the socialite (or company worker(?) LWJ switches into the concubine position.

I remember LXC losing his mind a bit, LWJ scratching strategies off a list.

The thread so funny and amazing and I can’t find it! Please help.

Thank you!

FOUND? #4 is a thread fic by enigmatree on Twitter but apparently they have currently locked their account so I can't share the link. But if you're following her, the first tweet of the thread starts with "Tumblr post: tragedy happens because the wrong people are in the wrong story."

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5. Hi, I'm looking for a fic on AO3 where WWX was staying at a beach house for the summer with WQ and NHS and his siblings and LWJ was at another beach house with MM and Qin Su. And they get together over the course of three summers as WWX has a gay awakening and goes on a date with LWJ to the aquarium and they write letters to each other outside of the summers. I think it was called "summer of peaches" but I can't find it anymore. @briarrose45

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6. hi, i'd like to ask about a fic that should also have attached fanart (which is what i am looking for)? i thought it was caged by moonflowers, but i cannot find the art i'm thinking of, which is of lwj in a chastity device...the fic itself is a setting where lans wear chastity devices until marriage or something, from what i vaguely recall...? thank you.

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7. Hi 👋 👋 👋 please help me those ff 😊 . Thanks you ☺️ A: wei Wuxian learn music and talisman from lan Sect 's teacher .B: jin zixaun and Jiang Yanli not get married C: nie huaisang and Female get married. (wangxian ff) this female give wei Wuxian love letter. @richie-234

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 925k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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8. Hi okay so this is a NSFW ask and probably has been deleted. But basically lxc and lwj both feel like jc and wwx should get back closer and come to the conclusion that they should fuck them together and jc is like huh even though wwx is stronger and better than me. He is submissive and they hold hands and come to climax together.

I remember it has 2 chapters and the book was just about them. Some characters might have been mentioned but I don't remember reading about anyone other than the two.

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9. hi, i'm looking for a fic that may be deleted, if you or anyone might remember the title/work: it's a rape fic formatted as a 5+1 fic, where it's 5 times wwx was raped when he was unconscious/asleep and one time he was awake for it? the 5 times include with jiang fengmian & jin guangshan; sect leaders(?) incl lan qiren, nie mingjue; and then gusu lan? i'm hoping it's not deleted but i can't find it anywhere in my bookmarks anymore :(

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10. Hi, So I read this fic a while back on Ao3 I'm pretty sure it involved some form of omegaverse. The main points I remember were that bondings in the cultivation world were typically unequal with only the omega having a mark not the alpha. LWJ and WWX become bonded and have an equal bonding which is the norm for the Lan's (but I think the other sects don't known that the this what is normal for Lan's) I remember there was a lot of jealousy about the fact JYL did not have an equal bond with JZX @lysslov

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11. Hello! I’m having so much trouble finding this one fic, I haven’t read it in a while and none of my searches are coming up with anything OTL. I remember it was a canon divergent fic where i think jc and lwj try to save wwx from being thrown into the burial mounds, and jc loses an arm in the process. I can’t remember anything else about the fic, and it’s been a while so I’m hoping it wasn’t deleted or something!!

Thanks in advance! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

FOUND? Yearning for Miles by lovely_hina (M, 379k, WangXian, XuanLi, JFM/YZY, XiCheng, LQR/Sisi, JueQing, SangYao, XueNing, Time Travel, but not really, they see the future in a thingamabob, Slow Burn, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Fluff, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development Galore, PLEASE ADHERE TO IN-CHAPTER TW, Canon Divergence, wwx still loses his core) think this is it but in this it's only jwy who loses his arm after trying to save WWX, lwj isn't there

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12. I seem to have forgotten the name of this fic. In it, Wei Wuxian dies before the indoctrination and Jiang Yanli while imprisoned later (the Wens basically win) gives LWJ his notebook that contained a time travel talisman. LWJ then tries several times to keep WW alive and has to reset multiple times. They do get married eventually.

FOUND? 🔒 Time Reversal by AitchNKay (M, 63k, WangXian, Major Character Death, Time Travel, WWX dies a lot, everyone dies, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Romance, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

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13. Hey how are you ?

I'm looking for two wangxian fics

A) First: a modern fic where wei ying was dumbed by Jin zixun and was heartbroken. Lan zhan his best friend,who has a crush on him, consoled him and after that their relationship progressed. I think it was one or two chapters

B) Second: a modern fic in which wangxian are best friends but lan zhan tells wei ying one day that he is dating someone ( mo xuanyu) after that wei ying gets jealous and starts avoiding everyone. I only remember that's not a long story.

I hope u can help me thanks @smarti1997

13B)

FOUND? A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, WangXian, WangYu, Modern AU, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Pining, Denial, Drunkenness, Jealousy, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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14. Hi can u help me find a fic :(( in wwx's first life he keeps on sating ily to lwj but lwj keeps on rejecting him and then before wwx's death, he qas the one to say get lost to lwj. Fast forward lwj regrets it and when wwx reincarnated, he uses every chance to say ily to wei ying but wei ying keeps on saying thank u. Pls helppp thank uu!

FOUND? When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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15. Hello! I am looking for a specific modern fic where the characters were museum workers, or perhaps art gallery workers. I remember the fic went into great detail about how art and exhibit pieces were carefully catalogued, packed, and moved between locations. I can’t remember the plot at all, just that I was so interested in this logistics element which I had never considered before. Does this ring any bells? I would love to read again, thank you! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND!🔒💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Art Conservation, Museums, Painting, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Pregnancy Mention (Side Character), Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Past Sexual Harassment (Background Character), Masturbation, Sexting, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Intercrural Sex, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Head Injury, Injury Recovery, Hospitalization, Workplace Accident, OSHA Violations Probably, Hurt/Comfort, Hair Pulling, They'll Be Okay I Promise, incarceration, Past Incarceration, Forgery, Discussions of Criminal Justice Systems, Family, Cock Warming, Labor Unions, Discussion of Adoption, Adoption, Parenting, Honest Conversations About Maybe Having Kids, Flash Forward, Epilogue, LQR Being A Good Uncle)

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16. Hello! I’m looking for a soulmate fic, where the soulmate can write on his skin and it appears on the skin of their soulmate. Wei wuxian loves the idea of having a soulmate and is writing a lot, lan wangji never responding. Wei wuxian then thinks maybe he doesn’t have a soulmate. thank you so much! @needlovebeloved

FOUND? Deconstruct by flowercity (FaoriE) (T, 11k, WangXian, Soulmates, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, they’re so in love)

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17. Help, please. This fic is about LWJ who is a book author who wanted to use WW's illustrations for his book. WW told him he could not do scenes involving hunger and eventually that topic is brought up that makes WW upset. LWJ calms him down and tells him that it will help others that went through what he did. LWJ goes to WW;s home and meets Yuan there too

FOUND? 🔒🧡 “I will climb to where you are” or: the bunny book by ladyofrosefire, NotAFicWriter (T, 40k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Fatherhood, Family, Long-Distance Relationship, Semi-Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Past Food Insecurity, WWX’s Outstanding Mental Health, Panic Attacks, past parent death, Fluff)

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18. Hello! i'm hoping you can help me find this fic. In it, lan zhan has rejected his soul mate bond with wei ying, who gets quite sick. the moment LZ sees WY at like a cultivation conference, he changes his mind. LXC and LQR are against soulmate bonds because of Madame Lan. Please help me find it!! tysm for all you do @fingersrevenge

FOUND? ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)

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19. Hi. I love what you are doing. So THANK YOU. I'm looking for a fanfic on AO3. I think it's a time travel WIP. Somewhat crack. Teen WangXian eloped (?) and there were rummors about them adopting many children. The summary was about people (Lan Xichen maybe? and someone else) talking about how many children they had. I'm not really sure. Thank you. @whatevereveryday

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20. Hey I'm trying to find a fic that's about post canon Lan Zhan meets you get Wei Ying and they do sleep together and Lan Zhan proves that Wei Ying and him are together and at the end Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying that younger Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying and after he disappears Wei Ying goes to find Lan Zhan and he finds him with marks on him with probably mean post canon Wei Ying got to him

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[esamastation]

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 5 [<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Ao3 link

-

The rest of the day goes by much the same way it did in the game. They make their way back to the farm, where Van helps Mr. Gylcross unload his purchases and carry some of them to the barn and the rest into the house. Janelle welcomes them with a warm meal and freshly made batch of apple juice, made from, "Apples I picked myself just this afternoon!" as she says. It's delicious.

"What did you buy in town?" Josel asks as they eat.

"Nothing much," Van answers, and ain't that the truth. "Mostly I just looked around, took in the sights."

Josel hums. "Yeah, you haven't been to the town a lot, have you?"

"I guess not," Van agrees, thinking back to the player character's messy background as a hand on the Gylcross farm, and how it might be revealed here - if it even was.

"How did you like it? Did you see anything interesting in town?" Janelle asks curiously.

"It was fine. It was all pretty interesting," Van admits and takes a bite of bread, wondering if she made it herself.

The System journal had updated while he'd been in town, and going by its writing, it was the most amazing thing ever to happen to Katie. Most of the journal entry was her detailing every event that happened, but there were some interesting titbits in between, which Van had noticed but not really thought about at the time.

… Oh my god, the town looks exactly like it did in the game! Only now I'm seeing it all in first person! It's so wild. There's so much more people here than there were in the game, too - probably since the limits of rendering capacity have been thrown out of the window. Real world isn't held back by RAM. Hah.

Also? Kids. There are children here - and not just one-age-fits-all like in some games, no, there's older teenagers and younger teenagers, and I also saw a toddler in the marketplace - and I think one woman had a baby in a sling? A baby! Definitely didn't have any of those in the base game - not a single kid to be had in all of Age of Tales, except in pre-rendered cutscenes. I wonder if it's just for humans, or will we get to see dwarf or elf babies - I've never seen a dwarf baby, ever, in anything I've ever seen or played. Probably not elf either, unless it was like a half-human-half-elf situation brought forth by an illicit cross-species love story.

I wonder if Van can have babies - like, conceive them? I mean, there's romance in Age of Tales, such as it is. There's sex scenes and stuff. Can those now have, like, consequences? Does this world have contraceptives? Is that something that I have to now think about?

Van with a baby would be pretty cute, though. I wonder if I can somehow get him to hold a baby…

And that's where Van had to stop reading in order to preserve the delicate equilibrium of his mental stability.

"There were a lot of people in town," he concludes with a cough to clear his throat, and takes another sip of the apple juice.

Janelle gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, it's a bit different from how it's around here, huh?" she says and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you had fun."

"Yeah," Van agrees.

By now he's kind of starting to feel the limits of Katie's social meter, though. She'd never been a particularly extroverted person, and while it's different inside a videogame… this isn't a game, not really. It's been a whole day of interacting with people and trying to figure things out, and Van is feeling mentally kind of worn down.

Plus, he's got an existential crisis scheduled up, and it's starting to feel kind of urgent.

"You mind if I turn in for the day, sir?" Van asks once he's done eating, turning to Mr. Gylcross. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, my boy. Just get Bell settled in for the night and get the cart in the barn," Mr. Gylcross says.

Thankfully, Josel has apparently done all other farm-related duties off screen. All Van has left to do is get the cart inside and Bell brushed up, fed, and settled in a stall, all of which happens by automation. Josel, who's got a more permanent berth in a little hutch next to the farmhouse, bids Van good night, and with some relief Van heads up to the hayloft.

There he lays down in the hay, mentally preparing to Think About Things and Handle Them… only to find his mind full of static. He needs to deal with the Realisation and he needs to come up with a plan for tomorrow, because there's a lot coming his way tomorrow.

And yet, even though he lies there for a while, staring at the ceiling, not a single coherent plan comes to mind.

Finally, Van gets up again and goes back down to get a bucket of water. It's not quite as good as a real mirror, but in a pinch…

His reflection is very faint on the water's surface, but he can just about see himself and make out his features. The caramel ice-cream hair is really not looking its best. It's curly in the game, kind of fabulous in a way that doesn't fit Van's body type at all - here it sticks every which way, unkempt and not exactly flattering.

No permanent magical hairstyling in real life, huh.

Combing his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face, Van turns his head this way and that, taking in his features again. The jaw, the cheekbones, the forehead - he really looks like he was drawn by a comic book artist. Except made real. 

He's really - Katie is really in Van's body. This is Van, made flesh and blood. Well, he doesn't actually know if the body can bleed, but it probably does. It gets hungry and thirsty. And, judging by the feel of things right now, it also needs to relieve itself. Which is… another thing he hadn't been thinking about.

Sitting on his knees for a moment, Van weighs the oncoming mental health crisis against probably mortifying body function weirdness and chooses the latter, standing up. Time for a true fantasy adventure - figuring out how men piss.

Delightful.

Though as a man he should be able to go wherever - so long as he wasn't flashing someone, anyway - seeing as this is the first time and Katie only sort of knows what she's doing… yeah, some privacy is called for. There's a wooden outhouse behind the farmhouse, which Van slinks his way to like he's doing something wrong and illicit. The outhouse is pretty small and forces him to bend over, and it's overall very awkward. It stinks. The seat is tiny and looks kind of uncomfortable to actually sit on.

Katie has a feeling she's going to miss Earth's modern day plumbing before long.

Right now she has other concerns, though.

Van takes a deep breath - and then regrets it, because of the outhouse smell - before looking down. The trousers are easy enough to figure out, they're basically normal trousers except fastened with a string instead of zipper. The underwear, not so much. While Katie has seen it before and actually spent quite a bit of time trying to figure it out, seeing it on Van now…

It's a kind of cloth wrap thing, like the whole thing is one long stretch of fabric wrapped around the waist and down. The final effect is not unlike briefs, and it's actually kind of comfortable and it definitely keeps everything contained… but if Van takes it off, he will definitely not be able to put it back on again.

Hm, maybe he can, sort of… move it aside…?

Touching it is a bit weird. Katie does a little gibbering flailing thing in the back of his mind while Van tugs at the fabric, feeling all the stuff beneath shift - feeling all the stuff feel the movement. It's weird - having sensations in bits Katie never had before. 

Kind of cool though, too. In a sort of unreal way.

Van gets his fingers beneath to pull his penis out and then… there it is, sticking out past the cloth, with its two buddies still nestled in the wrapping.

It would probably be inappropriate to call it a tool. It kind of fits, though. It's very… proportional. 

And Katie is suddenly very aware of her long stint as a single woman, because damn. Like, she's never been that into the look or size of a guy's dick - a penis is a penis, they're all kind of the same in the end - but damn. Van has one hell of a dick. Like, Katie probably wouldn't want to have sex with Van, because ouch… but damn.

"Okay, don't play with it, just do your business," Van mutters, thinking back to Katie's stint in the kindergarten and wincing at the memory of potty training. As extremely unsexy thought as there ever was, he thinks with a grimace and then attempts to… manoeuvre himself into position. "Just point and aim."

It's weird, and very… fleshy. But at least the rest of the operation is roughly the same for a man as it is for a woman - bladder is a bladder, apparently. It's still weird - as is not needing to wipe afterwards. It doesn't feel like it's enough, to just shake it. Not that there's anything to wipe with in the outhouse.

"Weird, weird, this is so weird," Van mutters, shaking himself and then quickly tucking the weapon away.

There's nowhere to wash his hands afterwards.

"Great," he mutters and then slinks back to the barn where he sleeps at night. His mirror water turns into hand washing water, and he still feels a bit dirty afterwards. He's hyperaware of what's going down below the belt, all of a sudden. Also, maybe getting a bit hard? Is it really that damn easy to get riled up as a man? Van's not even thinking of anything sexy, and apparently it's going up on its own. What the hell?

Climbing up to the hayloft, Van lies down and tries to not think about his dick. He's got an existential crisis on his hands. Woman stuck in a man's body here. This is no time for any kind of self-inflicted fun times. He needs to experience the horrors of being not in a body of his own. Her own. Whatever. Body dysmorphia, here we go!

Yeah, no, apparently not. His mind keeps slipping downwards along with the blood pooling there, as though the damn thing has a gravity of its own. He can feel his penis straining his underwear - taking it out, putting his hand around it, it would feel… probably pretty good right now. And it's not like Katie doesn't want to - like she hasn't been curious what it was like, how it would work. Porn and smut painted a pretty vivid image, of course, but nothing beats hands on experience.

Mmm, hands on…

Van stares at the ceiling for a long moment, biting his lip. There's no one in this end of the barn but him. The Gylcrosses are in their house, Josel is off in his little hutch… there's no one here. No one but him.

… Right, okay. Fine.

With a grunt Van gets up to find a rag or something.

It would clear his head too, probably, if all the post nut clarity memes are to be believed. He would have his existential crisis with a clear mind afterwards.

-

Katie wakes up the next morning to the cock crowing somewhere outside and has a moment of flailing confusion at the feel of all the hay around her and sight of the wooden ceiling and beams above her head… before everything comes back.

Right. She's still here. She's transmigrated into Van and to the very start of Age of Tales. And it's now day two.

"Shit," Van murmurs, running a hand down his face. His chin feels bristly - apparently that's a yes on the needing to shave going forward, if he wants to keep Van's chiselled chin in view. Which is probably not all that important, considering that, well…

Tonight, the plot would finally kick off in earnest.

Breathing in and out for a moment, Van lets his arm drop to his side. He hadn't even thought of what he would do, beyond the usual. Even with all the dramatic consequences, the Rift opening was still part of the tutorial, and so all the enemies were pretty low level. The character was meant to run, of course - at this point there was not much they were supposed to be able to do against them.

Emphasis on the supposed. This is, however, Age of Tales.

The whole tutorial section is a bit… Well, overall, Katie gets it - the whole point of the tutorial section is to paint the illusion of peaceful normalcy and introduce the player to the base mechanics and the NPC shops before the plot can kick off and burn the whole idyllic place to the ground for shock value. The first time Katie went through it, it was pretty epic, overall.

But giving the players the chance to shop before the fight was kind of dumb.

Because, while the game didn't get that popular, it had some players, and just about everyone who did play it went about the tutorial the same way. They gambled for cash and kitted themselves out as best they could as soon as they could… and in so doing, turned the whole Rift thing into a bit of a joke by actually standing up against the invasion, something they plot-wise weren't supposed to be able to do. And most of them didn't even realise it, breaking the game completely by accident.

And when you went about it perfectly intentionally, well… the Rift stopped being a threat at all and became the perfect spawn kill camp.

That was what Van had been planning to do - until reality nerfed Katie's money-making tricks.

"System, open inventory," Van calls.

[Inventory] [Simple Knife, lvl. 1] [Shepherd's Slingshot, lvl. 1] [14 x Basic Stone Ammunition ] [3 x Spearhead] [1 x Apple] [Empty Jug] [Dirty Rag]

Yeah, not exactly winning starter gear, especially considering that he still doesn't have a single shred of proper armour. He hasn't been this poorly prepared for the Rift since the very first playthrough - and even then he at least had some armour and a sword! Reality is really kicking his ass this time.

He can't figure out if it's frustrating or exciting. Probably the first one.

"Guess I'm making some spears," Van muses and then sits up with a grunt. Finger-combing the hay out of his hair, Van eyes the dirty rag and then winces. He would need to get rid of it, and maybe he could wash up somewhere before getting started. Unfortunately, he doesn't think there's a washroom or anything around here…

[Farm Chores, Lvl. 1.] [It's a new day on Gylcross farm, and it's time to get to work!]

[Farm Chores 1, Lvl. 1.] [Let the chickens out.] [Let the goats out.] [Let the cows out.] [Let Bell out.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 3 Apples.] [Farm Chores 2, Lvl. 1.] [Muck the pens and stalls.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 5 Fresh Eggs.] [Farm Chores 3, Lvl. 1.] [Take a look at the garden and weed Ms. Janelle's vegetable beds.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 4 x Mixed Herbs] [Farm Chores 4, Lvl. 1.] [Milk the goats and the cows.] [Quest reward:  2 exp, 1 Bottle of Milk.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

Van winces a little at the sudden bombardment of pop-ups. Looks like he has some work to do. How much it all will matter when this time tomorrow the farm will be in ruins aside… exp is exp. And if he could squeeze in another level up before the Rift, it definitely wouldn't hurt.

Standing up - and bending over to duck below the ceiling beams - Van shuffles to the ladder to start the day with a quick rinse in a bucket of cold water.

By the time he heads out of the barn, Janelle has breakfast ready and set in front of the farmhouse. "Good morning, Van!" she calls, waving. "Come have some eggs and pancakes!"

Josel is already there and already stuffing his face with eggs. "Good morning," Van greets them both and then asks, interestedly, "Pancakes?"

"Yeah - Daddy bought flour and sugar yesterday!" Janelle says excitedly. "We've got some honey too - come here and try it."

Van does, sitting down beside Josel, accepting his share with a, "Thank you, miss." It looks great, and it smells even better.

"It's Janelle," the farmer's daughter says firmly and sits down across from him.

The breakfast is great, as are the pancakes. Mr. Gylcross doesn't make an appearance, but no one comments on it, and so Van doesn't either - maybe the man sleeps in when it's not a market day, or something. After they're done eating, Josel helps Janelle clear out the table, while Van considers his quests.

"Are you going to let the animals out?" Janelle asks, wiping her hands in her apron. "I'll come with you - I'll collect the eggs while I'm at it."

"Sure," Van agrees and offers Josel an apologetic nod before following Janelle towards the chicken coops.

It's a perfectly pleasant day, with only a few fluffy clouds in the sky and just the barest hint of a breeze in the air. The sort of day when nothing bad is supposed to happen, of course. Perfectly normal day.

"Daddy says you visited the tailor yesterday," Janelle comments. "That you ordered some kind of armour."

Van blinks and looks at her. "Uh, I didn't realise he knew about that," he says. The man hadn't mentioned it. How did he find out, anyway? "I did, yeah."

"Why?"

Well, there's going to be a battle in Westbrook the day after tomorrow, and then the place is going to be set on fire, and Valthor's most annoying minion is going to make a grand appearance. Van is really hoping to curbstomp that guy's smug little face to the ground, and armour would make that much, much easier. "Well," he says, because clearly he can't say any of that. "I don't know. Just felt like it, I guess?"

Janelle looks at him carefully, and asks, "Have you… remembered something?" she asks. "About your past?"

Van hesitates, because in the game the player character never remembers time before the farm - but he does learn about it from others. "No, not really," he says finally. "I just… have a feeling I'm going to need something. Actually," he adds and takes a spearhead out of the satchel. "I also got a few of these."

Janelle accepts the dull spearhead, tilting her head with confusion. "Is that a weapon?"

"Head of a spear - I'm going to find some pole to stick it on," Van says and shrugs. "And then I'll have a spear."

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little upset. "But what do you need a spear for?" she asks.

Van shrugs again. "I don't know. It just feels like something I should have."

Janelle hums unhappily, turning the spearhead in her hand. "So, I was right," she murmurs and looks at him sadly. "You are a soldier."

In the game you learn the main character's background in flashbacks and  hints from the designated Mentor character at Ulgor's Camp, but it's a pretty cliché dealio overall. The player character has amnesia - of course - and was left at the Gylcross farm by a Mysterious Hooded Person - of course - while the Mysterious Hooded Person ran away all suspicious-like. Janelle Gylcross eventually found the player character hiding in the barn hayloft, all confused and out of it and bleeding from the head. Through some interrogation and arguing with her father, Janelle got him settled in as a new farm hand.

It's all shown to the player in this grainy sepia cut scene, a collage of moments as the player character learns how to swing a hoe and milk the cows and stuff. It's pretty wholesome. And the fact that it's shown to you only after the farm has been burned down and everyone there was killed, well… Katie has some issues with the arrangement of narrative there, but it was kind of a punch to the gut, the first time she played the game.

Also absolutely hilarious, watching this brick shithouse of a man do these cute farm chores, like carrying baby lambs around, delicately harvesting berries from the bushes and weeding garden beds.

"I'm not a soldier," Van says and accepts the spearhead back. "I just feel like it'll be better to be prepared than not."

"Right," Janelle says and hugs herself, looking uncomfortable. "Are you going to leave the farm? I know Daddy only contracted you until the harvest, but… I thought you liked it here."

"Well… it is nice," Van says. And it really is. He looks at the farmstead around them and hums thoughtfully. It's very peaceful and idyllic and wholesome. In the game it's often implied how much the player character wishes he could've stayed there, wishes none of the terrible things that followed wouldn't have happened, and the world could've stayed as it was.

More than another day of it and Katie would be climbing the walls, bored out of his mind.

"I guess we'll see," Van says and smiles at Janelle. "You never know what will happen."

-

[<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Proofread by @nimadge, many thanks

-

I call this the Tool Inspection Chapter. And I hope it made at least one person laugh as much as it made me to write it.

[hn-undercover-9503]

uh oh look who got possessed at 4 in the morning and stayed up for another hour exorcising the demons (writing idea)

post-wano zosan/sanzo {platonic or romantic, doesn't matter which way} that spawned from me thinking too hard about the death pact

Most of his crew have already either passed out from the party, or are still recovering inside of the shogun's castle. Last he saw, Franky and Jinbe were the only ones still awake and mingling with the Wano residents. It was almost surreal, this grandiose party, after such a huge battle where there were no less than three times that he was sure they were dead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's well past midnight by now, and yet, the lanterns of the Flower Capital burn just as bright as they did hours before. They light up the night sky, thousands of them drifting into the clouds, high among the stars. Sanji hasn't been able to take his eyes off of them for the last hour. His head is pleasantly foggy, stomach full and body at ease. It's especially nice after the special level of hell all of them went through today. Sitting outside and watching the lights over his head and listening to the sound of a country celebrating the end of its long reign of suffering–it’s comforting, in the kind of way he feels like it's been a while since he felt able to bask in.

But they aren't dead–Sanji and all of his crew are still alive, and victorious.

Some would probably chock up their win to luck, or to random chance. Sanji knows better. He understands that there's one reason, and one reason only, that he's able to sit here on this deck and stare up at the beautiful lanterns containing the dreams and desires of a whole country. And as of right now, that reason is off sawing logs about three rooms away from him.

He could fall asleep out here, he thinks. The weather is perfect, and the noise of the crowd is surprisingly comforting. It's easy for all of it to fade into the background, becoming a soothing hum in the back of his head as his eyes slip closed without him even thinking about it. His body still feels heavy, and honestly, he can use the rest. He may not have been as grievously injured as some of his crew, but he's no stranger to what it feels like to be overworked. Even in this new, strange body, he knows he shouldn't be keeping himself awake after going through what he did.

Unfortunately for him, fate is a cruel mistress.

Just as he feels himself about to drift off completely, there's a dull pain from his side. He sighs, not having the energy to launch an outright attack on whoever's dumb enough to jab him in the ribs when he's sleeping. Instead, he opens one eye and glares up at the figure leaning over him until his tired eyes finally focus.

"Oi," the mosshead grunts, poking him in the side with the scabbard of his newest sword, before seeing Sanji's awake and resting it over his shoulder. "I gotta talk to you, Cook."

Sanji groans, sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. His body cries out its protests, demanding he lay back down and promptly pass out for about thirty eight hours, but he ignores it for now. He sits up and turns a half-hearted glare onto the swordsman as he lowers himself to sit on the deck beside him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Marimo?" Sanji grumbles, looking back up at the sky. It's a far less irritating sight than walking fungi keeping him awake. "You look like shit."

Zoro grunts. "Could say the same for you."

"I'm better off than you, shitty swordsman." He quips back immediately, digging into his pocket for his cigarettes purely on instinct. "You didn't have to lug me around a whole castle for several minutes, now, did you?"

"Shut up," Zoro tells him, but there's not an ounce of bite to his tone. He's clearly just as exhausted as Sanji is, probably more. So then...

"What are you here for, Marimo?"

Zoro is quiet for a while–too long, in Sanji's opinion. He looks away from the sky and catches sight of a downturn to the swordsman's lips, his eyebrows pulled together like he's trying really hard to use his singular brain cell to formulate his words. Sanji purses his lips and waits for it.

"During the fight," He begins slowly, slurring his words and drawing out the syllables. "You called me on the snail."

Sanji turns away, looking out over the sprawling crowd still partying on. Okay. That makes sense. He should have known that's what this would be about. He frowns.

"You asked me to kill you, cook." Zoro continues, now glancing at him directly and settling him with a glare that could have knocked out a hundred men. "I want you to tell me what the hell that was all about."

“Why, disappointed you couldn't hold up your end of the deal, Marimo?” He tries to deflect with a smirk right off the bat, but he knows it hasn't worked before he even finishes speaking. Zoro's glare hardens, and Sanji just sighs.

“It's not something I really wanna talk about.” He admits, pulling out his lighter and lighting himself a cigarette. “And it worked out, so you don't need to worry about it. Really.”

Zoro is clearly unconvinced by his assurance. “It's got something to do with you running off to marry that girl, doesn't it?”

“Not…exactly.” He clarifies, which he knows explains nothing. Zoro huffs out an agitated breath.

“If you don't tell me, I'll hafta cut you for it.”

Sanji chuckles. “You and I both know you're in no shape for a brawl right now, Marimo. So heel.”

Zoro rolls his eye at him. “Just–tell me.”

“Why do you wanna know so bad, huh?”

Zoro crosses his arms with a scoff. “You asked me to kill you, dumbass. And you expect me to just shrug it off?”

“Wow, who knew moss could think? So you're sentient after all, huh, Marimo?”

Zoro growls and digs an elbow into his side. It's clear by the pained hiss he lets out afterwards that the action hurt him more than it did Sanji.

He winces and runs at it anyway, if only so he doesn't do it again. After taking a particularly long drag from his cigarette, he breathes out a cloud of smoke and leans back on the deck, face turned up to the sky again. “Fine. But if you really want the whole story, you're gonna be here a while.”

Zoro grunts again and then he's setting his swords aside to lay back next to him, also looking up at the sky. “Just tell me, stupid cook.”

He sighs again, more smoke escaping from his lips. It fades away against the backdrop of night sky, stars, and lanterns. “You got the story of my family from Luffy, I assume?”

“Bits and pieces–I know they weren't your family family.”

Sanji smiles, because of course Luffy would describe it like that. “Yeah. Well, turns out I made a mistake. Using that bastard's weapon, his raid suit–it…did something to me.”

Zoro shifts from beside him, and when he glances over he's sitting up on his elbow to look down at him. “The hell does that mean?”

“My siblings were all born superhuman. Reinforced bodies, crazy fast healing, the works. I wasn't like them. I was just a regular old human.”

Zoro frowns at him. “That a bad thing?”

“In the eyes of the bastard, it was unforgivable.” Sanji shrugs, taking another drag just for the sake of it. “But I preferred it that way–once I got older, at least. My mom died to make sure I got to stay human. I owe everything to what she gave me.” His eyes burn as he prepares his next words, and they stick to his throat when he speaks again. “But because I was a selfish idiot…I wasted her gift.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, swirly?”

Sanji takes a deep breath and another drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs completely and settle his racing heart. “The raid suit. When I wore the suit, it must've triggered something. When I was fighting Queen, my body felt strange. It'd been happening for days, but I didn't think anything of it before. And then Queen got me trapped and I should've been dead, but I wasn't. I could feel my bones shattering, my organs rupturing–but when he let me go, I was fine. Like nothing even happened.”

“So you got strong bones and super healing. Who gives a shit?”

“...those aren't the only traits my siblings share.” Sanji pinches the end of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “They don't experience emotion. At all. It's why they make the perfect war machines. Can't feel bad about destroying a country if you can't feel anything.”

Zoro stays quiet for a while again, and this time is even more nerve-wracking than the last. Anxious, Sanji forces himself to sit up on his elbow and look over to him. His face is impassive, unreadable. Sanji's heart rate speeds up again.

Finally, Zoro grunts yet again. “You're stupid, cook.”

“Wha–” Sanji sputters for a second before the words catch up to him. “Oh, fuck you! I give you my whole story and you're insulting me?” He throws himself back into the deck with a huff. “I don't know why I even bother–”

“You feel too much to never feel anything, idiot.”

Sanji blinks, turning his head again to look at him. He's sitting up now, hunched over and glaring at him. There's no heat behind his steely gaze, though.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” This time, Zoro jabs a thumb into his side and Sanji lets out an undignified yelp, pushing out of his reach before he can get any more bright ideas. “Your dumb bleeding heart is too damn big to feel nothing. And you're stupid for thinking it could ever come close.”

Sanji scowls at him. “You don't understand. There was a moment there when I lost control. I thought I–”

“You thought? Thought what, shit cook?” The swordsman barks out a laugh. “Thought you did something terrible and evil, huh? Something that would make you wanna die to my swords?”

“I thought I hit a woman.”

Zoro stares at him for a second before bursting out laughing. “Well? Didja?”

Sanji grits his teeth and reaches out a leg to land a kick to his side, even as his body screams more protests. “Of course not, asshole! I would never–”

“Then shut up about it, would ya?” Zoro yawns, shoving his leg away haphazardly and laying back on the deck with his arms folded behind his head. “That when you called me?”

He frowns, turning back to look at the sky again. “Around there.”

Zoro lets out a deep breath, eye slipping closed. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Maybe you were.” Sanji admits quietly, watching as the lanterns bob and sway on the sudden breeze. “...hey,”

Zoro grunts instead of replying with words, because he's a caveman at heart.

“I know you think it's stupid…but if it did happen. You'll still keep up your end, won't you?”

The swordsman is silent for so long that Sanji's sure he's gone to sleep. But when he turns around to look at him, the other is staring right at him. For some reason, the look in his singular eye raises the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Course I will.” He eventually says, laying his head back. “But it won't. So shut up and go to sleep.”

Sanji smiles, laying back onto the deck once again. He shuts his eyes, and the pleasant hum of festivities sets over him once more. “That was the plan, at least until a certain mossball decided to interrupt me.”

“I don't need a fucking deal to kill you, shit cook.”

“I'd like to see you try, Marimo.”

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Oh my God I'm such a twilight girlie you write him so good!!! Like I'm a blushing mess here giggling kicking feet the whole nine yards. Also making him thic is such a accurate power move 🤭🤤 one of these days I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the different 🍆 sizes for the links I just know it'd be glorious until then I shall devour all your writing repeatedly while imagining hot blondes (your four rut one is my absolute favorite I must confess)

Anon you flatter me!!

Hyrule: 4.9 inches. Now, before you come at me in the comments for making our fairy prince smaller than Four, hear me out: like I've said before, and continue to say, penis size is heavily affected by both genes and external factors, and even a slight discrepancy in either one can had mixed outcomes. 'But Fyre, we came here for sin, not a biology lesson!!', some of you may gripe, but I promise there's method to this madness. Ever since starting his first adventure at the ripe age of 9 or 10, Hyrule has been on constant alert because of 1) the literal cult trying to steal his blood to reincarnate a giant pig man and 2) the fact that his world is quite literally a wasteland with minimal food/tainted water/and all sorts of other nasty things. I can't even imagine the stress he was under during those frankly crucial developmental years, so it's highly likely that his body just... didn't fully develop due to a combination of him not getting enough to eat/drink and being on the run for most of his life (i.e lots of stress + probably a horrific sleep schedule). Moreover, both of these factors are what's known as endocrine disruptors, which can heavily affect mental and physical growth.

But now onto the dick-cannons: while he may not be the largest or thickest, I like to think Hyrule has a pretty good handle on what he's doing regardless*. Definitely not circumcised, considering his background (someone please tell him how to wash).

*(I once saw a headcannon that Hyrule probably used sex as a form of payment when things got tough, which I think is very underrated and absolutely true.)

Four: 5.5 inches. So I DEFINITELY did too much research on Four's, but I think y'all need to hear this. While I love the headcannon about Four's dick being 4 inches because his name is quite literally 'Four', I'm not sure anyone has tried to tackle this conundrum with his heritage in mind. Typically, penis size is influenced by parental genes, the person's own unique genes, and a combination of other external factors. For Four, we know for certain that he has Hylian parents, BUT he's also part Minish because of the events of Minish Cap. The Minish are typically described as anthropomorphic mouse people, so we can comfortably use mice as the basis for this genetic addition. Now, mice typically have a penis size of 10% of their body length (tip of nose to base of tail), which would concurrently put Four at 0.458333333 in feet, or 5.5 inches.

Dick-canons: probably circumcised. He's got the vibe of being pretty unassuming, but then he whips it out and everything suddenly makes sense. Balls* are on the bigger side (BREED), but no one's complaining.

*(Have you seen mice balls?? They're fucking [tee hee] massive. View at your own risk, but I couldn't have stopped the idea of Four like this if I tried. Yes yes I know this is a rat, but close enough!)

Wild: 5.6 inches. This one was probably the most difficult, because Wild's just... an average guy*. He doesn't have any non-Hylian transformations or crazy evolution history under his belt (tee tee), so all that really leaves is his height–which isn't a truly reliable measure of penile length, BUT we take what we can get in this blog–and background. It's somewhat implied that his father was a knight/someone who worked for the kingdom, which means he and Warriors were likely raised in very similar situations, though Wild's likely was a bit more stressful. For one, he pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal at the ripe old age of 12, and was immediately shipped off to guard Princess Zelda while she attempted to awaken her powers. While not as extreme as Hyrule's backstory, this is still a great deal of pressure for a child who arguably had a very peaceful life before finding the Master Sword, but I don't think he suffered any developmental conditions; even with the stress of finding out you're the Hero of Hyrule before you even finish puberty, it's reasonable to assume that Wild was physically cared for by the royal family, if only for the fact that his destiny was to defeat Ganon. Not just that, but there's the whole other issue of being stuck in a shrine for 100 years after dying; I'm no doctor, but that doesn't sound like favorable conditions for anyone. Obviously, the shrine heals him, but is that all it does? It's a well-known fact that water isn't good for skin**, especially considering he laid in it without moving for a century, so it's hard to imagine how his dick looked after the bath to end all baths.

Dick-canons: it glows– assuming he actually does have a penis, it's fairly average looking. Probably circumcised for military/cleanliness reasons, but he does have a very lovely vein running up the side of the shaft that always looks like it's about to pulse out of his dick. He should probably get that check out. Average sized balls, maybe a bit on the small side due to 100 years of cold water exposure.

*(I'm just going to come out and say this: all the Links are, at their core, average guys. Twilight was a goat herder. Time may or may not have been birthed by a tree and raised by tree people. Hyrule is just a simple traveler. Wind wasn't even chosen, he just wanted to save his sister. That's why they're so likable... they're not born special, or heroic, or anything. They're just dudes. Regular, selfless, boring, amazing dudes. Anyways enjoy the rest of my insanity.)

**(Is it wrinkly? Dried up? Completely and totally detached?? Laying in water for even a few days can cause severe medical complications, such as open sores, loss of skin elasticity, bacterial and fungal infections, and tissue decomposition. Cold water can temporarily slow the effects of decomposition because of adipocere formation, which is a phenomenon in which a waxy substance forms over the skin as a byproduct of fat decomposition, but not for 100 years. By this logic, Wild shouldn't be on this list because he shouldn't have a dick.)

Legend: 6 inches. Y'all already know where this is going. Unlike his successor, Legend didn't begin his first adventure until the age of 12, and lived a fairly stable life before hand thanks to his Uncle. This means that there likely wouldn't be too many developmental factors to worry about in determining the dick-cannons, so now we must turn to his rabbit-ifying encounter from his first adventure. I'm going to use the eastern cottontail rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus) for this example because they're one of the most widely studied/available rabbit species. Now, cottontails typically reach 14-19 inches in length, but I'm going to go with 20 inches for Legend because he is CHONK, and also 20 is a lot easier to do math with. Keeping this in mind, WikiVet has informed me that rabbit penises can range from 20 to 45 mm in length. I'm going with 45 mm (4.5 inches) because he's a big boy and I also want him to have a big dick, so, when paired with the 20 inch body length, you'll find that approximately 8.86% of a rabbit's length is dick. Now that we know dick-to-body ratio, all that needs to be done is put that against Legend's height of 5'6", which leaves us with 5.8476 inches, but I added an extra 2 in to account for the fact that he is also hylian. It just feels right.

Dick-canons: Definitely a good choice if you're not sure what you want; bunny boy has many talents. Definitely has some breeder balls*, and I firmly believe he's curved just right for maximum pleasure. Probably circumcised because of his uncle, but he's secretly glad because it means he doesn't have to clean it like he would if he wasn't.

*(Yup, we're doing this again. Scientifically, rabbits have some of the highest sex drives of any animal, and are capable of breeding six hours after giving birth [WTF], which means this absolutely applies to Legend. He is never not down for a fuck.)

Sky: 6.3 inches. Prepare yourself because this one is very speculative. So, Sky was born on Skyloft, a set of islands in the sky. He was trained as a knight for most of his life and had a generally very peaceful life, so no endocrine disruptors or developmental discrepancies to worry about. Moreover, we know he started his journey at seventeen, which means he's at the tail-end of development. Now, instead of turning to some type of animal encounter, I'll turn to his Hylian heritage to answer this conundrum. I doubt there's anything out there with Skyloft's exact elevation, but it does appear to be a decent few thousand feet above the cloud barrier, which I've discovered are most likely altocumulus clouds, which typically form at an elevation between 6,000 to 20,000 feet. To calculate this, I watched a Skyward Sword gameplay video and determined that, in-game, it takes approximately 1:02.87 to reach the surface, and, assuming Sky/Link, is going at terminal velocity (the fastest an object can go while in motion, which happens to be 120 mph for belly-to-earth skydiving), this would put Skyloft at a roughly 7,544.4 foot elevation, which aligns with the altocumulus cloud prediction. There are only so many places on Earth that match such a high elevation, but I'm going to choose the Himalayas (which are inhabited by the Tibetan people, which are already known to have more capillaries and a more specialized hemoglobin function due to living in higher altitudes) as our comparer-region. Using this information, we can safely assume that Skyloftians, though fictional, who evolved in a very similar environment, may exhibit some similar traits to the modern-day Tibetan people.

While researching, I also discovered an incredibly interesting phenomenon called "airplane boners", which is a scientific occurrence where changes in pressure can cause erections (i.e. flying on a place), and decided that this would be perfect fuel for my scholarly degeneracy, which leads me to my next point: Sky has a big dick as an evolutionary response to what is colloquially known as the 'airplane boner'. Not convinced? Let me explain. When a penis is erect, arteries in the pelvic/penile region dilate to allow for greater blood flow, which thus increases the size of the penis itself. Now, imagine being at a high elevation for your whole life, surrounded by people whose ancestors have never lived anywhere else. I firmly believe that Skyloftians are well-endowed as an evolutionary response that allows the sustainment of larger blood vessels as a sort-of defense against high air pressure. Natural selection favors these traits because they ultimately lead to reproduction, which is the single-most important characteristic of evolution. 6.3 inches was a bit of an educated guess, but I believe that because the people of Skyloft evolved in a closed high-altitude ecosystem, it's entirely reasonable for Sky to be THICC because his body has a adapted to handle a greater hemoglobin factor and increased vascular capacity, likely in the penile region.

Dick-canons: due to the blood-vessel evolution, Sky's dick is likely thicker than average, with some very visible veins running up the sides; so many that it likely makes his dick appear incredibly flushed when erect. Contrary to what some of you may think, I don't think he has large balls, because it is likely more advantageous to have a smaller scrotum to combat the elements/conserve heat. So no breeder balls for him, but that doesn't mean he can't breed you just as good ;)

Twilight: 6.8 inches. I feel like this goes without saying, but he's a country boy. He's hung. Twilight grew up in Ordon, a close-knit community where everyone takes care of everyone, which means he most definitely had a very good childhood. Like some of the others, I see no reason to bring up developmental challenges due to being chased by a cult or some similar bullshit, so we're going to skip right to his transformation of a wolf at the beginning of his journey. Contrary to Legend and Four, I do not believe that this transformation affected him significantly in terms of penis appearance/size. Twilight was 17 when his adventure began, which means he already is at the end of physical development from a biological standpoint, and, in Linked Universe, his tattoos appear to be the only true physical mark on his hylian body, so it's safe to assume that we don't need to take this into consideration. Now, some of you may say: "Fyre, but your theories were so crazy for the other ones and now you're saying Twilight's hung because he's country??" Yes. Yes, I am saying that.

BUT.

There's a pretty solid theory running around that Twilight is a very small part Gerudo, due to Talon (Malon's father) having married/banged a Gerudo woman in secret. In LOZ, it's fairly obvious that the Gerudo are supposed to emulate modern-day Middle Eastern culture, which a study by the National Institute of Health states have an average penis length of 14.34, or 5.6 inches. Obviously, this is nowhere near 6.8, but this is also a race of mythical female warriors, so everything's a little skewed. However, in every iteration we see of the Gerudo, they're always tall, somewhat aggressive, and visibly muscled, which are all indicators of above-average levels of testosterone. This is highly important because, in addition to being required to build muscle mass, testosterone is heavily responsible for penis growth during puberty, meaning that Twilight could very well be the way he is because of this naturally-increased testosterone production (i.e why he's so visibly muscled compared to the other Links), plus an assumed more efficient vascular system due to his heritage. Adding on to this, Twilight likely already has booming levels of testosterone due to his very physical, very labor-intensive occupation as a rancher, plus the fact that he's in the prime of his life. In short, he's doing everything right: he eats well, works out, and has fairly decent emotional and mental health, all of which can be correlated with optimal penile development.

Dick-canons: Breeder balls to the MAX. All that extra testosterone has got to go somewhere, and it ain't his head. Fairly girthy, so prep is a necessity. Has one big vein right under the head that honest-to-god throbs when he's turned-on. Probably not circumcised because Ordon is fairly closed-off and I can't see them as being sticklers for that.

Warriors: 7 inches. While height isn't directly correlated with dick size, it is reasonable to assume that Warriors would be a bit higher on the list because of this, as well as his overall health in comparison to Hyrule and/or Legend. It's hinted that Warriors was raised in a very military-esque lifestyle, so it's not a surprise that he wouldn't have any true developmental setbacks in terns of penile length. Now, that doesn't mean we can't analyze the reasons why he's like this. Being raised in a militant environment means he was fed appropriately, participated in training regularly, and was likely taught stress-regulation habits (does he use them? no, but at least he knew them during his developmental years). Like Twilight, increased muscle mass is typically linked to elevated testosterone levels, and since Warriors has been training his whole life, it's reasonable to assume that these factors had a positive impact on his penile development. He and Twilight are very similar in this regard, except Twilight's size comes a bit more from favorable, wack genetics, though they both make sure to take care of themselves. However, Warriors is shown to be somewhat vain in Linked Universe canon (to the point that the other heroes have a running joke on it), which means it shouldn't be put past him to try more... under-the-table methods to ensue his 'perfection' reaches all aspects of his body, dick absolutely included. I'll leave it up to y'all on whether it's actual herbal/medical enhancements or sheer force of arrogance, but it's still a fun thought!

Dick-canons: Definitely circumcised (if not, definitely obsessed over keeping that shit squeaky clean). He's not as girthy as Twilight or Sky, but it'll definitely feel like he is from the way he wields it* during the deed. Doesn't have the biggest balls, but they'll definitely smack against any ass he can get his hands on.

*(There's a lot of speculation on whether Warriors is a manwhore or not, but I believe he's got experience. Definitely not in relationships, but one-night stands? Tavern hook-ups? He's done more of those than he's [un]willing to admit, but when it's someone he honestly, truly cares about? Slap a blush on him and call him a virgin, because he sure acts like it!)

Time: 7.3 inches. I saved the best for last. I want to preface this by saying that Time is HUGE, so obvious he's got to have a bitchbreaker in those britches, right? Right? Not exactly, because the version of Time we see in Linked Universe is the 'second' version; the one who got sent back in time by Zelda for Majora's Mask. This is HUGELY relevant because, honestly? Time likely took terrible care of himself over the course of Ocarina of Time, or at least somewhat neglected his needs in favor of completing his quest. Then, when he was sent back to being 12 years old in a new timeline by Zelda (Majora's Mask), you cannot convince me that he didn't have a major epiphany on how to actually take care of himself now that he was literally given another chance to get it right. He still trains, hard, but also knows his limits and, for the first time in his new life, he actually makes a point to start eating vegetables and drinking milk*, which give him all the essential nutrients to bridge the gap between surviving and living, especially during these crucial developmental years. Time genuinely makes an attempt to try. For himself, this time. And it pays off in the form of that fat-ass cock ;)

Dick-canons: a true bitchbreaker that will rail you six ways to Sunday. Not circumcised (bro was basically birthed by a tree), and definitely has breeder balls; he basically acts like he's in rut, and Twilight's got to get that trait from somewhere. Probably pretty veiny, like his hands (HNNNN), with just the slightest curve that'll have him hitting all the right spots.

*(Lon Lon milk all the way, my good readers.)

And, of course, I had to consult google:

[crowsofdarkness]

Who Are You?: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner.-

Pairings: The Winter Soldier: Bucky Barnes x Agent Fallen x The Crow: Eric Draven

Content Warnings: angst, violence, kidnapping, death, language, smut that will include unprotected pinv, oral with male and female receiving, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, double penetration, semi-rough sex, spanking, sharing of partners(m/f/m).

Summary: Agent Fallen was looking for a ghost, her ghost. With direct orders to shoot on sight to anyone who stands in her way, she soon finds herself at a crossroads when facing another ghost. The Crow. As they work together to find The Winter Soldier, Fallen and Eric Draven have to also work out their complicated relationship with each other.

Authors Note: this series is not canon to any of the Marvel movies, besides a few details. this will be a reverse harem/why chose series which means the FMC is with both MMCs, never choosing between the two. there will be moments where Eric and Bucky share Fallen. updates will be slow for this one. Tags are open!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr @starfly-nicole

-i have my permanent bucky tags on this. if you're not interested in this story because of Eric Draven, no worries! let me know and I can take you off this story-

The snow beneath my boots crunch as I trudged farther along the darkened path, the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains in the horizon. My suit stuck to my like a second skin, the leather doing nothing to keep me warm due to my heated blood. Thanks to my powers, my blood always ran hot so while it was nearing -39 degrees celsius on Mountain Pik Podeba in Siberia, I felt sweat gather at the back of my neck. It had been an incredibly difficult trek yet I continued to push through, never giving up. 

It wasn’t in my nature to which is why SHIELD hired me. 

Did they hire you or felt pity for you when they found you on another cold mountain side and saved your life eight years ago? 

Shaking the thought from my mind, not daring to think about the past, I thought about the mission instead. My boss, Agent Fury, set down an extra classified folder on my desk a few days ago with one demand: keep it between us. 

As soon as I opened the folder, I immediately knew why we needed to keep it between us. Fury was the only one in SHIELD that knew about my past and where I came from since he was the one that found me eight years ago. If anyone inside of SHIELD found out about where that was, I’d be outcasted and probably arrested. While everyone at headquarters thought I was away on vacation, I was actually up in the mountains in Russia, looking for a ghost. 

The Winter Soldier. 

There had been rumors he’d gone rouge from Hydra a few years ago, killing everyone that had a hand in creating him. Fury had been keeping a watchful and good eye on The Winter Soldier to see if he had me in his sights. It was fine until last year when the list started to dwindle down to only three names left. 

One random guard. 

Dimitri. 

The last name on The Winter Soldiers list was only three letters, almost as if he couldn’t remember the entirety of it. But Fury knew and when I saw a copy of the list, I knew as well. 

When I read that all too familiar name back in my office the other day, all of the oxygen was stolen from my lungs as my past reared its ugly head. I hadn’t come face to face with The Winter Soldier in nearly eight years when Hydra literally tossed me out into the snow, broken and defeated. Just before one of the Hydra guards shut the door, I saw those dark eyes watch me over the guards shoulder, not bothering to stop them. 

“Soldat,” I cried out, as the flames dissipated from my hands; the fight for my survival was long gone. 

Everyone who didn’t know him called him The Winter Soldier, I called him Soldat during my time in Hydra. He was the one who trained me, made me who I am. But once one of the guards found Soldat and I in bed together, our leader Dimitri ordered my removal from the compound. I was shunned and left to die on the side of the mountain by the people I thought I had a home with all because I fell in love with another one of their other puppets. 

Dimitri was stern in his orders, never wanting Soldat and I to stray too far from our orders of death and destruction. So when he got word of our private affairs, it was clear who would be shunned. The Winter Soldier was Hydra’s most prized soldier and weapon meanwhile I was their project gone wrong; the one who couldn’t be controlled. 

Along with the love and memories of Soldat, I buried that part of me deep within me, never letting Căzut out again. I had a name when I was younger, something I couldn’t remember so Soldat was the one that gave me my name the first night I arrived at the Hydra compound, afraid. 

“Căzut,” a metal thumb lifted my chin as I knelt before him, causing me to look up at him. “You may have fallen but you will rise again.” 

So when Fury found me eight years ago wandering on the Russian mountain side and asked me for my name, I gave him the only one I had. 

Fallen. 

Breaking over the horizon, I could vaguely make out a wooden home about 15 feet west and let out a small breath of relief. To others that ventured up on this side of the mountain they might have thought it odd for a small house to be placed in the middle of nowhere. But us at SHIELD knew what it was. 

A safe house. 

This one specifically was off the map  because it was Fury’s own safe house, one he didn’t want anyone to know of. The only reason why I knew about it was because he’d brought me here eight years ago. 

“I’m fucking starved,” I grumbled under my breath as I stepped through a large mound of snow, the heat seeping through my boot melting it almost instantly. 

Fury mentioned that the wood burning stove in the house didn’t work but when I snapped my fingers, bringing fire to them, I reminded him that warmth shouldn’t be an issue for me. 

After gaining access inside with my thumb print to the front door,  I took the first step inside of the house yet immediately froze because something felt off; wrong. There was a shift in the air that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t the chill of the house that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the feeling that eyes were watching me. Softly letting my bag fall to the floor, I reached for the knife in the side pocket of my tac suit and when my fingers grazed over the handle, a sharp kick landed to the back of my knee. I fell to the aged hardwood floor with a thud, quickly spinning around on my knees to look at who managed to attack me. Expecting to meet a pair of eyes, I was met with a long blade from a katana sword, the tip pressed to my neck. 

I followed up the length of it up to a hand covered in tattoos, recognizing one of them immediately. Snapping my gaze up, I met a pair of soulless eyes already pinning me in place and sucked in a breath. 

No fucking way. It’s true. 

“How the fuck did you get inside?” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone calm since he was the one with the blade pressed to my throat. 

The man, who stood tall over me at atleast six feet, cocked his head to the side. His face was covered underneath a mask from the nose down, showcasing those dark eyes as they assessed me. Those same eyes were blanketed in some kind of black paint. A few small strands of hair fell into his eyes but he made no move to brush them away. He was glad in all black, except for his hands that showcased all of the ink. 

Everyone in SHIELD thought The Winter Soldier was the ghost but they were all wrong. The man standing in front of me was an even bigger ghost. He was a rumor that no one seemed to have any proof of. I only knew of him from what I’ve read in his very skim folder which only had two things; his name and the picture of one of his tattoos. 

The Crow and the tattoo of a crow on the outside of his hand. The same one I was staring at right now. 

“You’re real,” I muttered. 

He remained silent yet pressed the tip of the blade harder against my throat causing me to kneel straighter while holding my hands out to my sides showing him I was unarmed. 

“I’m really at your mercy right now,” I flicked my gaze to the sword. “All it would take is a simple flick of your wrist and you’d hit one of my arteries, making me bleed out on the floor in seconds. I can tell you right now, I have no intention of dying today.” 

The Crow didn’t seem to believe me because he motioned to the weapons on my tac suit with a silent order. 

Remove them. 

Biting back a curse, I slowly removed the gun and knives from all of the pockets before sliding them over to his combat boots. 

“Are you going to tell me how you broke into a SHIELD safe house?” I asked. 

Yet again, he didn’t speak as he kicked my weapons across the floor, them skidding down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“I have orders to kill anyone that stands in the way of my current mission,” I said while shaking out my fingers, not yet bringing the fire forth. 

“I’d like to see you try,” The Crow chuckled darkly. 

I nearly fell to my ass at his voice, how deep and rich it was, but maintained my composure. 

“So you do speak,” I teased with a smirk. “Here I thought Hydra cut out your tongue.” 

His eyes snapped away from the exposed top of my breasts in my suit thanks to the zipper being down a bit and his jaw ticked. Victory surged through me when I found the answer to a question a lot of us were wondering. If The Crow was Hydra or not. 

“So it is true,” I continued on, puffing out my chest when I caught him staring again. 

Even if he was this top secret Hydra weapon, he was still a man and men have certain weaknesses.

“Let me guess. Hydra got bored with their main weapon and decided to create another?”

“You know Hydra?” The Crow asked me, the grip on his katana never faltering as the tip was still pressed to my throat. 

“You’re looking at one of their failed projects,” I sighed. 

He snickered. “What’s so special about you?” 

He’s fucking rude. 

With a snap, I brought forth the fire to my fingers which made him take a step back, letting the blade of his sword fall away from my neck. With the new found opportunity, I kicked my feet out to trip The Crow and he clambered to the ground. 

I looked back down the hallway where he kicked my weapons moments ago, ready to crawl my way towards them only to have my ankle grabbed and yanked into the living room. The Crow and I scuffled for a few moments, me trying to rip off his mask which caused him to slam his forehead on mine, nearly making me succumb to darkness. 

Super soldier strength? Check. 

While I had my own strength thanks to the serum running through me, it wasn’t anything compared to his. I sent a knee into his groin which made him double over in pain, giving me a few seconds to scurry away from him. Quickly rising to my feet, I threw a fireball at him only for him to grab his sword, blocking it. I watched in horror as the fire fell to ash at his feet. 

“What the fuck is your katana made out of?!” I demanded right before The Crow ran towards me, pushing me against the wall. 

His thick arm pressed into my throat, cutting off my breathing almost instantly. My feet dangled in the air slightly as I clawed at the material of his jacket, doing whatever I could to get him off of me. 

“Just like I thought. Pathetic,” he sneered, face inches from mine. 

His mask had slipped in our scuffle and it was then I got a good look at his entire face, lingering over his plump lips. Somehow without his mask, it seemed to accentuate the black paint around his eyes. 

He was gorgeous. 

Focus, you idiot! He’s going to kill you!

“Thank god you don’t have a metal arm,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to fight against him. 

The Crow’s grip around my throat faltered only for a moment as his face twitched but then he pressed his hips deeper into mine to pin me fully against the wall. Through his cargo pants, the outline of his cock against my pussy and my eyes doubled in size when I felt how hard he was, letting a moan slip quietly. 

“Is this turning you on?” I teased. 

His eyes narrowed as he pressed himself harder against me. “Says the one who just moaned.”

Curse his super soldier hearing.

“Can’t help but like what I see,” I did my best to shrug while still being pinned to the wall. 

The Crow eyes casted down to my breasts, lingering over the sweat that gathered there and all too quickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” 

His gaze flicked up to me as he pressed his arm tighter against my throat. “I have no desire other than to kill.” 

“Hydra program you to say that? Because your dick pressing against me says otherwise,” I tossed back. 

“You’re insufferable you know that,” he sneered while tossing me to the floor and I sucked in a giant breath, feeling the life return. 

“You can thank Hydra for that,” I choked on a breath before rising to my knees and glancing over at him. 

He had placed his sword back into its sheath and set it on the back of the couch then turned to face me with narrowed eyes. I was growing tired of this look. 

“What are you doing here?” The Crow asked. 

I snorted while slowly standing and rested my hands on my hips. “I should be asking you that. You’re in my safe house, which I’m still wondering how the fuck you got in without my thumb print.” 

“You left the window unlocked,” he pointed to the window in the living room. 

Damn it, Fury. 

Running a hand through my red hair, I let out a long breath and stood in front of The Crow as he sat against the back of the couch, his long legs outstretched. 

I squinted my eyes at him when I realized something. “Why didn’t you kill me just now? You had the chance more than once.” 

Something flickered in those eyes but his face remained like stone. “You said something about Hydra programming me. How would you know that?” 

I brought forth the fire again, letting it dance inside my palm as I manipulated it with the air around me. A party trick is what I liked to call it. 

“Like I said, Hydra created this. They kept me captive for years and the second I disobeyed one of their orders, they tossed me to the side as if I was nothing,” I closed my fist to put the fire out. 

“So you’re not with Hydra anymore?” The Crow asked. 

I shook my head, not completely sure why he was suddenly not trying to attack me anymore, but what shocked me the most was how comfortable I felt opening up to him.

“You mentioned something about a metal arm,” he said while crossing his arms over his chest. 

I swallowed thickly, not knowing where the conversation was headed now. “Your point?” 

The Crow shook off his jacket, letting it fall to the couch behind him. “Was The Winter Soldier before or after your time with Hydra?” 

“During,” I informed while shifting on my feet. “He’s the one that trained me.” 

“No offense but he did a shitty job.”

I shot him with a glare, feeling protective over Soldat after all these years because the love I had for him still lingering. “Fuck you.” 

The Crow eyes drank me in from head to toe before resting back on my lips. “Tempting but I have other orders.”

“Care to tell me what those orders are? Because I’m still curious on how you found this SHIELD safe house?” 

“This is SHIELD? Here I thought they would put you up in a mansion or some shit,” he snickered. 

“Well,” I kicked my bag in the air and caught it. “This has been so much fucking fun but I have plans. Please let the door hit you on the way out.” 

I made it all of two steps towards the staircase, ready for a shower and food while I went over my notes on Soldat when a voice stopped me. 

“Do these plans have anything to do with The Winter Soldier?” 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I glared at The Crow. “Excuse me?” 

He threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the laptop on the coffee table behind him. “I hacked into the laptop here and read your current mission report. It’s kind of irresponsible to leave a top secret laptop out in the open like that.” 

Letting out a scream of frustration, I chucked my bag at him which he caught with an attractive and annoying ease. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Few days. I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

This piqued my interest and I raised a brow at him. “You’ve been waiting for me? Why?” 

The Crow stood to his full height and closed the distance between us. Suddenly, I got a small whiff of his scent and couldn't help but shiver at how good he smelled. 

“I’ve been tasked with retrieving The Winter Soldier to bring him back to Hydra,” he informed me while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

I scoffed while shaking my head. “There’s no way I’m helping you bring Soldat back to the monsters that tortured him.” 

“Soldat?” His brows furrowed. 

“It’s what we called him. It's "soldier " in Russian,” I said. 

He nodded curtly. “Well, my Hydra mission is different from my main mission.” 

“Which is?” I pressed. 

There was something oddly weird about why The Crow chose this safe house and why he was waiting for me personally. 

“I need his blood to create an antidote for the serum running through me. I’ve been this weapon for years and need a way out. Hydra doesn't know this but I’m not returning from this mission. I don’t want this life for me any more.”

“What makes you think Hydra will let you get away with that?” I asked in utter disbelief. 

There was absolutely no way anyone in that group would let someone like The Crow get away.

“I have people on the inside that will fake my death so I can hide away.” 

“And you trust them?”

I was beyond shocked that not only did he have the balls to pull off a move like this but he was also divulging his plans to basically a stranger who was an agent of SHIELD and former Hydra assassin.

“With my life,” he said without missing a beat. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion from my trek up the mountain suddenly catching up to me. 

Something seemed to lift from his shoulders as he let out a long sigh, suddenly breaking free in front of me. 

“I need your help. I’ve been hunting Soldat for months but can’t seem to keep on his trail. If anyone can find him, it’s you,” he said. 

“What makes you think I can find him?” 

“My sources tell me he’s also looking for you,” he motioned towards the laptop on the coffee table. 

I rolled my eyes at his sources and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why the hell would I help you? You tried to kill me.”

“I would never,” he placed a hand over his chest in mock pain. “I just wanted to see what you were made of.” 

“You’re insufferable,” I exasperated while repeating his words from earlier.

The Crow continued to wear that smirk as he shrugged. “You’ll get used to it the longer we’re together.” 

“Hang on,” I raised a finger. “I never agreed to help you. What do I get out of this? It goes against my orders from SHIELD.” 

“Well, according to your records, it seems like you’ve had quite a few red marks. Your boss, Fury, is trying to help you keep your job which is why he sent you on this private mission. If you brought in The Winter Soldier, it would solidify your position until you retire. But something tells me that you’re looking for a way out as well.”

My spine stiffened as I stood up straighter, not knowing how he found that info out. No one inside of SHIELD knew I was purposely getting red marks on my record in a way for them to kick me off the force. This private mission to find Soldat was a way out with the hopes he remembered me and he could help. 

I swallowed thickly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you know things about me because you read my file.” 

“A thick file,” he corrected. “If you help me, I can have one of my hacker friends wipe your file clean so you and Soldat can live happily ever after. That is, if he remembers you.”

The urge to slap that stupid smirk off of his face was strong and made my hand twitch at my side yet I weighed his words heavily on my mind. This was technically the way out I needed and now that I finally had the chance to do it, it would be stupid not to take it. 

Right?

“If you were to help me, something tells me I would owe you something?”

Something shone in The Crow's eyes but his next words didn’t match that glimmer. 

“We both get a way out of a life we had no say in. Consider us even,” he spoke while walking past me into the kitchen. 

Reluctantly I followed him and for the first time since stepping inside, the smell of a warm cooked meal filled my senses and my stomach roared to life. On the table were two plates, two cups, and silverware. 

“Are you fine with chicken and potatoes?” The Crow asked over his shoulder as he pulled out a large dish from the oven. 

I blinked at him a few times, trying to gather my words. “How the hell did you get the oven to work? Half of this shit didn’t work the last time Fury and I were held up here.” 

With his back to me, I could see the muscles tense as he moved about the kitchen, getting things ready for dinner and I bit my lip at the sight. 

“I’m good with my hands,” he answered while setting the dish down on the table. “Go wash up and we can talk more about the details.” 

Very briefly, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck as he scratched at it, lifting down his shirt slightly. 

“I never said yes,” I reminded him while popping my hip out, showcasing my attitude. 

“The way you haven’t blown me to ash yet shows me that you already agreed. So again I say, go wash up and we can go over the details. I have a hunch where Soldat is hiding out.” 

As much as he irritated me, I knew that I’d be nowhere without The Crow. I had nothing on Soldat, so as much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help. 

“Fine,” I forced out through gritted teeth and turned swiftly on my heels but halted when he called after me. 

“What did Hydra call you?” 

“There’s no way I’m giving you my name. I don’t even know you,” I tossed over my shoulder. 

Something in the way he smirked told me he already knew my name due to his hacking but gave me the benefit of the doubt to tell him myself. 

Dropping my shoulders with a sigh, I gave in. “During my time in Hydra I went by Căzut but now I go by Fallen.” 

“I know,” The Crow smirked. “I just wanted to see if you trusted me enough to tell me.” 

“Does this mean you’re going to tell me your name? And not the stupid moniker Hydra assigned you,” I gave him a small smile but dropped it when I noticed the way his face fell. 

“I don’t know my name. I’ve only ever gone by The Crow.” 

Ignoring the pain I felt for him in my heart, I tapped my chin in mock thought before snapping, a spark igniting. “You look like an Eric to me.” 

“Eric,” he repeated the name a few times, almost like he was trying on a new pair of pants. “I like it.” 

“Good because it stays,” I ruffled his hair before leaving him alone in the kitchen as I skipped upstairs. 

When I left the SHIELD headquarters this morning, I had no intention of working with someone on finding Soldat but something in the way Eric smiled at me told me that he was the same as me in a lot of different ways. So if I had to deal with him for a few days in my search for Soldat, it was worth it. It helped that he was good to look at as well. 

“This is going to be a long few days,” I mumbled under my breath as I took the steps up towards the one bedroom of the house. 

The bedroom Eric seemed to have taken over. The same bedroom with only one bed. 

Son of a bitch. 

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

Posted so you guys have something to read while your family watches the Super Bowl... Happy Sunday!

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 7:

Saturday mornings were reserved for Megumi’s weekend training. Usually, you would use that time to run errands such as grocery shopping, going to the dry cleaners and then maybe grabbing a sweet treat for the both of you when you go to pick him up. Today, you decided to try a new bakery around the corner from the dojo because they were introducing a new spin on Megumi’s favorite pudding. 

You arrived back to the dojo earlier than usual with pudding in tow. You wore a tracksuit and sunglasses to hide the puffiness in your eyes. You were always in awe when you snuck a peek into their practices. Watching Megumi practice hard and listen diligently always made you proud. Luckily, Gojo hasn’t noticed your presence yet as he was too busy teaching. But today, the other instructors were there. 

On the far left of the dojo, you saw the tall blonde man you run into occasionally on weekend trainings.

Kento Nanami 

You think that was his name. A stern man not of many words and yet, why do you have the desire to study him? He was a mystery and always lingered in the back of your mind since you first saw him at the cafe. His back was facing you, but it wasn’t hard to pick him out in a crowd. He’s hard to forget. He was gorgeous and masculine. Broad shoulders and a bulky form, evidence of his extensive training in martial arts. Gojo often teased him so you scarcely heard him speak. A deep voice that only spoke clean cut sentences that highlighted his earnest disposition. Delicate blonde hair that looks like it was kissed by the summer sun and cheek bones that provided the perfect definition to his face. 

You craved for his back to turn to look at you. You wanted his discerning eyes to probe you…to undress you? 

Now you’re getting out of hand…

You turned back to Gojo’s students and they were in the middle of a bow. That meant class was over. 

As the other students gathered their stuff and brushed past you to catch their rides. You stepped out to the tatami mat to meet Megumi who was in the middle of an intense conversation with Gojo. He took a double take to notice you arrived and gave Gojo a nod before hustling towards you.

“Good work!” You congratulated while handing him his pudding. His eyes lit up and a soft smile tugged on his lips. He looked back up to you.

“I’ll go get my stuff.” He jogged away to pack his work out bag. 

“Did you get my text?” A fluttering voice startled you out of thought. You looked up to see Gojo. His blue eyes somehow lacked its usual vibrancy and you could swear there were dark circles forming under his eyes. He clearly tried to hide it with his award winning smile but it was clear that he was up all night. Just like you. 

You adjusted your sunglasses to sit securely on your nose before responding. He watched you eagerly waiting for you to say something. You felt like you paused a little too long. Your head turned to once again follow Megumi who got caught up in conversation with some of the other students in Nanami’s class.

“Um…yeah. I did.” You heard Gojo shift his weight, likely out of nerves. He was probably worried that even then, you wouldn’t want to talk. Your head turned back up to him.

“I’m going to take Megumi home and fix him some lunch first. I’ll come by your place afterwards if that’s ok?” Your voice raised a little too high at the last part. But you could tell he was relieved. He fought the urge to pull you into a hug in front of all of his students and resorted to scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

A long sigh fell from his lips.

“Good…that’s great. Thank goodness.” He murmured to himself. Megumi took his place by your side and you two started heading towards the exit. You turned back to see if Gojo was still watching you go but he had already gone to converse with another instructor who was about to start the next session. However, there were still a pair of eyes that watched you leave. 

For a brief second, you could have sworn that Nanami had his eyes on you. His intense and focused look seemed to have been glued to your form. But he must have been looking past you, right? You concluded that you were being too self-conscious and broke eye contact. 

But your heart never forgot his gaze.

___________

The drive to Gojo’s house was painful. The swell in your eyes calmed a bit more since earlier but you still think you look worse than usual. After all, you were forced to revisit the emotions of last night and face the actions that followed after. You were reckless because you thought you no longer had anything to lose. But you realize that depending on how everything unfolds, it could also affect Megumi. You thought about this even before starting a relationship with Gojo which is one of the reasons you tried not to get too close.

But you became selfish, wanting to be with Gojo trumped the consequences. You were lucky that it doesn’t seem like what happens between you two affects your son. However, a lot of that has to do with Gojo loving your son just as much as you do. You both want him to succeed regardless of what’s going on in your own lives. 

The sun was setting by the time you made it to Gojo’s penthouse. You abandoned your tracksuit and sunglasses for blue boyfriend jeans, a pearl blue spaghetti strap bodysuit with a small fake diamond necklace and tennis shoes. The doorman who typically let you in tipped his hat towards you as you made your way to the elevator. You tried to push away the anxiety crawling up your spine making way for an open mind. 

‘This is what you’ve been craving right? For him to open up?’ You thought to yourself; yeah, but not at the risk of him breaking up with you. All instances where you tried to talk to your ex after a breakup ended horribly but you thought to yourself. ‘Gojo is different from them’. You released a deep breath to expel your negative thoughts as you rang his doorbell. 

The door opened to Gojo wearing a kiss the chef apron on top of an off-white long sleeve sweater and gray sweatpants. His eyes wore initial shock but then softened tenderly the longer he searched you. 

“Satoru…” You breathed. Gojo’s hands traveled up your cheeks and he pulled you into a deep kiss. You froze, puzzled at this development as Gojo’s tongue tasted your lips. You melted into the kiss, allowing him entry and curled your arms around his neck and hooked your fingers in his freshly shampooed white locks. You two were making out in his doorway and you weren’t sure if the ‘talk’ he planned had much talking after all. 

“Satoru. I turned down the stove fire for you.” A voice interrupted you back into reality. Gojo slowly broke the kiss and placed his hands at your biceps to unlatch your arms. He took your hand and pulled you inside. 

Your tender moment was replaced with horror. 

“Thanks, Suguru!” 

Your jaw clenched and eyes grew wide. You swore your lungs locked because you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Sweat beaded your forehead while staring at the man. Long black hair, mischievous and yet seductive feline eyes that soon found yours and your body spasmed. However, he simply…smiled?

Gojo gripped you with warm hands on both shoulders to swing you in front of him. 

“Y/n. Don’t be shy~. This is Suguru Geto.” Gojo bellowed. Geto took a bow and took your hand. He kissed it while retaining eye contact with you.

“Nice to see you again. Y/n.” His words dripped like honey but his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. The look that only he dared to give you.

Disgust

You can’t blame him. As far as he’s concerned, you just had sex with him and then he caught you making out with his friend the day afterwards. But there was something that didn’t entirely click for you. 

“Not fair. You two already know each other?” Gojo pouted while leaning down to rest a lazy chin on your head. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and chest, pulling you into his embrace. Geto let go of your hand and shoved his into his black jogger pockets. His disgusted expression turned into a pleasant one when he addressed Gojo again. All of the sudden, panic and worry started clawing at your skin. 

‘He wouldn’t say anything here. Would he? I mean technically I was broken up with so it’s not cheating.’ You rationalized with yourself. It calmed you down a bit but it was still a conversation you wanted to avoid anyway. 

‘Technically, I’m still broken up with.’ A small pout grew on your face. Although Gojo still acted like nothing has changed, his phone call last night changed everything.

“Well, you found out that I’m producing a drama in the neighborhood. I know I should have reached out but to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were ready to talk to me. But when you ended up calling me first yesterday, our first conversation after all this time was… pretty hard wasn’t it?” Geto mentioned before continuing. You felt Gojo tense and your eyes darted down in deep thought. 

Geto swatted his hand and shrugged his shoulders.

“Long story short, that night we had a meet and greet  and she seemed to be a fan I recognized.” Geto threw a knowing glance in your direction and you laughed nervously. 

“That reminds me. I think you left out without getting an autograph. I have some pre-signed ones in my bag in the guestroom if you want. Follow me.” Geto motioned and you hesitantly broke away from Gojo’s grasp. Gojo started following behind.

“Sa.To.Ru. Aren’t you cooking?” Geto reprimanded and Gojo jumped back.

“Fuck! My enchiladas!” He dashed to the kitchen before the smoke alarms went off. Once Gojo was gone, Geto made another reassuring glimpse towards you, clearly he sent Gojo away in order to speak with you alone. He turned his back and stalked towards the back guestroom. You followed him. 

________

“So. Are you staying here?” You ask while Geto hikes to the other side of the guest bed to pull his travel bag from under it. The sound of him tugging the zipper open echoed across the room.

“When he found out I was in town, he told me it would be a waste to stay in multiple hotels for months at a time when he has guest rooms.” Geto answered calmly, fumbling through his binder of flyers and work paraphernalia. He searched for signed posters of each actor, pulled it out one by one to lay on the bed, and continued to flip through to find more. 

“H-How do you two know each other?” You twiddle your fingers in front of you, eyes not leaving the freshly vacuumed floors.

He snapped the binder closed.

“Aren’t you getting too full of yourself? Interrogating me like this. Shouldn’t you be begging me for mercy to keep your little secret?” His eyes narrowed. Your fists balled as you marched towards him, furiously. You held up an accusatory finger towards him. 

“You are not making me the bad guy in all of this. He broke up with me as far as I was concerned. So even if you say something, it wouldn’t be my fault!” You argued quietly, mindful that Gojo was still nearby. Geto’s face remained unphased for a moment but then a wicked smile grew on his face.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned down where his lips hovered over your ear.

“Then let’s go tell him together, shall we?” He hummed. You couldn’t tell whether he was joking or being serious but you were frightened all the same. You violently pushed him back but he barely even stumbled.

“Ah my poor dear friend. His girlfriend is a liar and a slut.” He advanced towards the doorway with a stack of signed posters in tow. You took in an offended gasp.

“You watch your mouth.” You hissed and a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. He clawed the doorway trim.

“With that tone, I might assume you’d want to fuck me again.” He mocked before disappearing out of the room. 

He didn’t allow a word of rebuttal as you stood still, boiling with rage. 

___________

Gojo placed the hot pot of rice in the middle of the table next to the baked enchiladas. You couldn’t even look up from the plate in front of you while sitting at the long dining table. Gojo’s plate was at the head of the table to your left and Geto coincidentally sat right across from you. 

Gojo untied his apron and stuffed it in a kitchen drawer. Geto had already started eating.

“The bathroom…”Geto started and your eyes darted up towards him.

“Did you change the decor the last time I was here?” Geto smiled while scooping a serving spoonful of rice onto his plate. 

“I just changed the lighting really. It was bad for my eyes.” Gojo explained while taking a seat at the head of the table. 

You relaxed and reached towards the spatula to spoon some enchiladas to your plate. Gojo reached at the same time and your fingertips collided. Your lashes batted tip to Gojo and a humored smirk grew on his face. He tilted his head.

“Raise your plate. I’ll serve you.” Gojo ordered. A blush grew on your face as you lifted your plate next to the pan of enchiladas. He shuffled them one by one, each one hotter than the last. The smoke piping out of the dish.

Geto brought a glass of water to his lips.

“Don’t burn yourself. Your body might still be in pain.” Geto advised. Shocked at the implication, you dropped your plate onto the table and it broke in half, your enchiladas rolling onto the table in a cheesy mess.

“Oh my.. I’m saying, Satoru, didn't you have to go to the dojo yesterday?” Geto continued. You and Gojo remained shocked as the sound of the broken plate ricocheted around the dining room. You immediately stood up and attempted to clean up the broken pieces. You cut your finger and Gojo noticed, standing up to take a look. 

He wrapped his hand around your injured one and brought it up to his gaze. 

“It was just a meeting…” Gojo murmured to Geto while inspecting your finger. 

“Well, let me make myself useful.” Geto huffed, standing up to go to the kitchen to retrieve some paper towels. 

“I’m so sorry. I-.” Your voice cracked as you felt tears coming on. You feel like you’re being humiliated. Every single thing Geto says draws hives up your back. There was no way you were going to make it out of this dinner unscathed. You needed Gojo to let you know that you are his and nothing is going to change that. But right now everything is too up in the air. Too fragile. You feel like one wrong word could tear everything apart. Tears swelled in your eyes.

“A plate doesn’t have feelings.” Gojo sighed and slid his hand down to your wrist and pulled you with him into an upstairs bathroom. 

He fumbled through the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit and he wrapped a bandage around the small cut. The action was swift but tender which forced the tears in your eyes to fall. Your head fell into his chest as you sobbed quietly. 

“What even are we?**sniffle**Why am I here Satoru?” You cried into his chest. Satoru raised his hand as if he wanted to caress your head but he refrained and put his hand back down to his side. 

“You tell me that you want to talk and make things work and then kiss me as soon as I show up.**sniffle****sniffle** But why do I still feel so in the dark?” You sobbed while gripping his sweater with both hands. You felt ashamed and confused. You wanted clarity but you’re not even sure if you deserve it.

‘Will ‘us’ even work anymore?’  You thought to yourself. It was clear that Geto doesn’t intend to let it go and is forcing you to tread on thin ice in his presence. 

“I…wanted to be able to talk to you. When I saw you again, I couldn’t help myself. The reason you feel so in the dark is because I put you there…” Gojo admitted and you stopped crying to stare up at him before he continued.

“I’ve always been at war with what people want me to be and who I am. Ever since I was a child, I was the pride of the Gojo clan and was forced to live by their ways. That way, I’m guaranteed success in the international family business…” Gojo explained. He took you by the shoulders and sat you down on the hooded toilet seat and turned to lean against the sink counter right next to you. He stared down as he spoke. 

“The only avenue where I felt like I had control over my life was through martial arts. There, I could push myself on my own terms and with my own strength. Because I knew the results I would get would be because of my own hard work.” He spoke softly and his voice was filled with melancholy even though he seemed to be proud of it. His hands tightened around the edge of the counter.

“Suguru was next to me every step of the way when we started as sparring partners. In the beginning Suguru was much more experienced than me but somewhere down the line…I guess I became better than him.” Gojo then took a deep breath. 

“On the day of one of my tournaments I came out in a higher place than he did. It was the first competition where that happened and he was livid. Ha…” Gojo laughed weakly before crossing his arms.

“I’ve never been cursed out so much before that day. Not even by my own father…We lost contact with each other when…when my parents got into an accident. But…Suguru ignoring me was more painful than their deaths.” Gojo’s eyebrows tightened as his eyes only carried pain. You wanted to reach out to him but his gaze felt too far away.

“Even though he hated me, I still wanted him there. Even though I inherited all this fortune, all I wanted was my best friend…I wanted that avenue to happiness again. So I went back to the only thing I knew…and that was martial arts.” Gojo stood up straight.

“I’ve never been comfortable with being vulnerable around other people. All I ever was surrounded by were people who I couldn’t trust. So I figured, it would be easier if they couldn’t take me seriously. I can’t be taken advantage of if they think I’m a fool.” Gojo turns to you and kneels down to your level. 

“But…I wanted you to be one of the people I could trust. I could tell you were getting frustrated with me so I thought it would be better for you if I ended it. But…I didn’t like that either.” He took your hands and held your knuckles up to his lips.

“Tell me. Do puppy-dog eyes still work on you?” He batted his pale lashes to you. Bright blue eyes teeming with anticipation, and plush lips that brushed across your knuckles. 

A part of you was leaping for joy but the other part was paralyzed with despair. You understood more of his heart but for some reason, you don’t feel much closer to him. You relaxed your forehead on top of his and allowed your intertwined hands to fall into your lap. Your eyes fluttered closed, taking in his warmth. You took in a deep breath and then wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

“Maybe we started this relationship thing a little too fast…The idea of feeling abandoned is something that hits too close to home for me. That’s not something I want to go through again. So for now…let’s go back to just dating.” You suggested. 

The weight of getting back into a relationship was off your shoulders but you left the door open for something new between you two to build. It’s exciting. Maybe eventually you two can finally take that next step. Although he tells you that you’re the one he wants to focus on, you don’t know when that’ll change. So you want room not only for him to be able to leave, but you too.

taglist: @beetusbritt ❤ @nousija ❤ @notleclerc divider by @cafekitsune

❀ follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use)

-kenzie & des

[murkystarlight]

OMFG I almost forgot how much I loved this smart ass blue alien. He is adorable💕💕💕

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[redeemed-wren]

I am thinking about. Jamie and the Second Doctor.

Because out of all the incarnations of the Doctor, Two is arguably the one who uses manipulation and disguises the most. He thrives on using people's intelligence against them, on tricking people, on bluffing and his bluffs working. He has a different disguise every story pretty much and is constantly playing some kind of role.

And then you look at Jamie, and some of Jamie's most front and center traits are his loyalty and his honesty (and protectiveness, but less applicable). Jamie is loyal to a fault and extremely trusting of the Doctor. He's honest and straightforward and deeply caring.

And Jamie is the one who sticks by the Second Doctor for as long as he physically can--and you'd look at those two characters, one who is manipulative and cunning, and one who is loyal to a fault, and you'd think the Doctor would easily be able to take advantage of Jamie, that Jamie would just be a tool for him but he's not, they're on equal footing. Jamie pulls the Doctor down and reminds him what being human is all about.

[littlesapphicraccoonguy]

What an interesting “cat”

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so Snap this is going to be so fucking weird, but honestly don’t care. So I was watching a clip of Drag Race Philippines and it was the make over episode and I think they were making over family members and this father was all about getting into drag. So, I just wanted to tell you never forget how much of a lovely loving kind and caring father you have, who loves you and protects you and makes you feel heard. That’s all.

i'd have to die before i forget how great my dad is thank you for the opportunity to brag about him again anon

[itsalwaysdark]

i just fucking hate having ptsd all of it. so many stupid fucking things send me into fucking hysterics it sucks and i hate it and i dont want itttt anymore i dont want it.

[seventh-district]

so was anyone gonna tell me that Neil Newbon is the VA for Astarion or was i gonna have to find that out myself when he suddenly started uploading his playthrough of the game on YT