#this is the one photo like this. just a little boy in the midst of a life-changing shift.

[aliosne]

Selfies ca. late 50s

[witchyafterdark]

— Ominis Gaunt Headcanons; pt. 3

• The Pros and Cons of being with him •

This post has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time now, and was supposed to be the second installment of my previous post about Sebastian! Nevertheless, here it is. I've thought about this one a little bit harder than the other since it's my boy Ominis. All photos used are not mine, and all credits to their respective owners.

・❥・ PROS

He is the most empathetic, compassionate, thoughtful, and caring man you'll ever be with.

Most people need to be taught how to have compassion towards others, or that an example needed to be shown in order for them to learn. But with Ominis, this is something inborn. Empathy is nestled deep inside his bones, and it will be very difficult for anyone to make him act out of alignment from his true caring nature.

He is tremendously protective of you, and by extension, those you consider very close to you.

One of the many ways he demonstrates his devotion to you is by means of providing you with protection. Understandably, he knows that you aren't some damsel who needs help all the time. That's why he discreetly protects you when you need it the most; which are during the times you do not see the danger you're about to encounter, or are already in the midst of.

Quite ironic, he sees certain social situations leagues ahead of you, given his aristocratic upbringing, and can definitely read between the lines of people's intentions toward you. He will immediately step in — with practiced grace mixed with lethality — and eradicate any threat that looms over you before you even begin to notice anything amiss.

By extension, he is also very attuned to your emotional states, physical needs, and mental processes.

You wouldn't have to worry about being with someone who doesn't know how to understand you in ways you want to be understood because that couldn't be further from the truth with Ominis. One of the factors that make him a good partner is that he would actually get to know you before being with you. He took the time to learn your patterns and behaviors, and he genuinely studied you thoroughly in hopes of doing right by you.

Therefore, being in a relationship with him means he truly knows he can be a good match for you, as he doesn't want to waste both of your time. He understands when you're stressed, and would do anything in his power to alleviate your pains. And he knows when to step back and give you your personal space to figure things out by yourself.

Surprisingly, he has a mischievous and adventurous spirit in his heart, and he knows how to keep the fun alive between you two.

Being born blind, he has been told endlessly by his punitive family that he would most likely amount to nothing in his life without their illustrious influence and infamous reputation. But ever the rebel, Ominis wanted to prove to himself that their words hold no significance in his ability to live life to the fullest. To your pleasant surprise, he is much more lively and playful once you truly get to know him and he lets go of all his defenses! He isn't Anne and Sebastian's oldest friend for nothing; he knows a plethora of ways to rebel, bask in the moments of fun and adventure, and get into the occasional mischief to feed the need for a little adrenaline rush. Most people would probably consider him a boring and rigid person to be with, but he's just waiting for the right one to share the joy and happiness with.

Ominis is one of the bravest and most loyal people you'll ever get the chance to be with, whether for friendship or romantic relationship. You'll get to enjoy certain... perks of being with him. And he's more than willing to ensure your comfort and satisfaction as his partner.

Simply put, he has no qualms in waving his family name around to protect and preserve the peace around him — and that includes making sure you're safe, unbothered, and given the same special privileges as he has. Rest assured that once he made up his mind that he wants to be with you, you wouldn't have to worry if he's thinking of anybody else besides you. Everyone will know that he is yours, but most importantly, everyone will know you're his. and he's not embarrassed to say he is with you. In fact, he revels in it; albeit, more privately. While he does want people to know that he is off the market, he loathes the notion of people getting to know what goes on with your relationship with him. He's still a private person at the end of the day.

Behind closed doors, he is the most affectionate, touchy, and loving man you'll ever know.

Ominis is the kind of person that is sensitive to the energies of other people. He is sensitive like that, and for good reason. He can "read" the room perfectly without the need for sight. And so, he would definitely know simply by the sound of your heavy footsteps that you've had a tiring, rough day. Wordlessly, he would have the initiative to cook dinner for you, prepare you a hot bath, not forgetting to lay your night clothes on your bed, and caressing your hair to send you to sleep as you lay secure in his warm embrace at night. He also knows when you just need time alone to be by yourself, and tend to your own needs without him in the picture.

Nevertheless, you wouldn't even think of him as someone that needs to be "coached" into being a good partner — he has that naturally built into his personality.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

・❥・ CONS

Due to his unstable upbringing, he is actually the most possessive person you've ever met... worse that Sebastian.

It is known that Ominis is a very closed-off person. He is very difficult to win over, let alone befriend and to romance. When he was a child, every family connection his father had made was exploited to the bone. Those people would unwittingly feel honored to be acquainted to the Gaunts that they would most likely do anything to win their favor. Ominis' father once taught him that the people around him was supposed to obey him out of respect for their ancient, noble lineage.

Therefore, once Ominis lets you into his life, he unconsciously views you as his possession; someone that must remain in his life, unless he deems otherwise.

During arguments, he would not back down, and would sound punitive at times.

Having to fight for his life — quite literally — at the hands of his cruel family, Ominis has learned that using his words can equally be as destructive as combative magic. His usual sarcastic quips are one of his normal defense mechanisms. But if you're engaged in an argument with him, especially when he knows he is right, best believe he will not hold back. You will get your feelings and pride and dignity hurt. He will lay out the truth no holds barred. He will make you understand why he knows best, and that you should just listen.

After what happened during fifth year with Sebastian, he's had absolutely enough with giving people the benefit of the doubt. Once he made up his mind about a certain topic, good luck trying to change his mind now.

If you are rumored to have been getting closer to another man, best believe he will be taken care of as soon as possible. You won't see that man ever again. (He isn't a Gaunt for nothing).

As far as he's concerned, the only type of friends you need in your life are those he knows of; Poppy Sweeting, Natsai Onai, and perhaps even Imelda Reyes. Sebastian can be part of your circle but even that he is wary of. But if he so hears about other men trying to be close to you (even as your relationship with him is already public knowledge), or you're in the process of entertaining the possibility of being with other men, he will get them out of the picture by the end of the week.

He is not afraid of twisting the truth, fabricating lies and offenses that those men seemingly committed, and falsifying being a witness to a breach of magical protocol just to send them on their merry way. You'll be confused as to how and why these men just keep on getting questioned by magical authorities but you'll be none the wiser about his involvement.

Speaking of, no matter how hard he tries to undo all the conditioning he was put through as a child, his Gaunt tendencies tend to rear its ugly head when he feels out of control, or threatened in any way.

This one is something he does not want you to know. It's one of his deepest, darkest secrets that he tries to bury underneath his caring and compassionate efforts of becoming a better man. Some days, it truly gets the best of him, especially when he perceives that he is not being taken seriously, or that things around him are getting out of control. Being someone without sight (that is also a Gaunt), having absolute control of his surroundings is something he needs to feel safe and secure. Without it, it's as if he is wandless — holding his hands up in front of him like when he was a helpless child.

And so, if he perceives petulance on your part, in spite of him exercising patience, he will resort to intimidation and manipulation. He doesn't need to exert physical force to make you understand exactly what he is capable of if you keep up with your actions.

(There's a reason why Dominis is a thing to begin with. People know he is capable of it!)

Once you're with him, there's no backing out. He won't allow it. You are his.

When you agreed to accept his courtship, he understood it as a mutual agreement that this is not something casual in nature. You are not with him to waste his time, as he wouldn't want to waste yours. The decision to court you was not made on a whim. He realizes the potential of a great and fruitful romantic partnership with you. Therefore, in his mind, you need to validate his assumptions about you. You need to prove that he was right about you.

Of course, he will subtly guide you through the stages of your relationship in order to fit his narrative as he intended. He will mold you to be the person of his dreams, and will give you whatever you want that is within his power. You'd do well to be grateful and acknowledge that through your cooperation.

And if you ever break his heart by being with someone else behind his back, he will make sure you will pay for it... one way or another.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

So, do the pros outweigh the cons for you?

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x Wolff!Reader x Max Verstappen - Social Media AU

Little (Ferrari) Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad She Wolff

Love is in the air for these two stars of the paddock! Brace yourselves as we spill the scorching hot tea on the newest potential pairing that has set tongues wagging. The grapevine is buzzing with the latest snapshots capturing none other than Ferrari’s golden boy, Charles Leclerc, and the stunning princess of the paddock, Y/N Wolff, in what can only be described as a romantic rendezvous. Oh la la! In these sizzling photos the duo can be seen cozied up in the VIP section, captivated by each other’s company and stuck in their own world, ignorant of the busy club around them. The obvious sparks between the young heartthrobs leave fans and gossip hounds wondering if there is more than just friendship brewing between them … (Read More)

A Wolff on the Prowl: Y/N Wolff spotted getting cozy with Max Verstappen

Hold onto your racing helmets because our newest racing romance just took an unexpected twist! We had barely caught our breath from the sizzling chemistry between Charles Leclerc and Y/N Wolff when another speedster entered the picture. Some lucky fans caught Y/N locking lips with the reigning world champion, Max Verstappen, leaving us all in a state of utter shock and awe. It’s a tale as old as time, with Y/N and Max gazing into each other’s eyes like they have discovered the key to the podium of love. The intensity between these two is palpable and their beaming smiles suggest that this could be more than just a passing fling. Will this newfound affair send shockwaves through F1, leaving Charles Leclerc heartbroken and fans breathless? Buckle up, dear readers, as we brace ourselves to see how this unfolds … (Read More)

y/nwolff posted a story

Just an inchident? Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen seem closer than ever despite their apparent battle for the heart of Y/N Wolff

Rev your engines because the race for Y/N Wolff’s heart is reaching exhilarating speeds! While the rivalry between Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen is as fierce as ever on the track, it seems that outside of the race itself a surprising bond has formed between these two young stars. Interestingly, during the Austrian Grand Prix cameras caught Leclerc and Verstappen sharing an incredibly close friendship. Despite their fierce competition for Y/N’s affection earlier this week, the two drivers were spotted laughing, hugging, and inseparable whenever they had a chance, proving that friendship can indeed thrive in the midst of romantic tension. Are they genuinely defying expectations and putting their hearts on hold for the sake of camaraderie or is this just a cleverly orchestrated PR move? Only time will reveal the true nature of this intriguing friendship and love triangle they are part of … (Read More)

y/nwolff

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 1,285,493 others

y/nwolff Happy Pride Month 😉

View all 4,762 comments

charles_leclerc mes amours ❤️

maxverstappen1 mijn liefdes ❤️

y/nwolff my boy toys 🥵

charles_leclerc i see how it is

maxverstappen1 she only wants us for our bodies

y/nwolff kidding, kidding. i love you both more than anything ❤️

y/nwolff and of course i don’t only want you for your bodies … i want you for your cars too

mercedesamgf1 Oh

redbullracing My

scuderiaferrari God

feralferrari this is not what i was expecting

givesyouwings i don’t think anyone predicted this but they are adorable together

silverarrows y/n has the power to build one of the most insane driver lineups ever for mercedes

y/nwolff they have to survive meeting my dad after he learns that we’re together before we can even think about that 😅

lestappenbeliever this is the best day of my life

formulanone we got married a week ago?

lestappenbeliever i said what i said but our wedding was a close second

[cofigelly]

ೀ SIX EYES

——————————————————————————pairing; college au!gojo satoru x reader

synopsis; you couldn’t help but notice a pair of wandering eyes during your 10am lecture

word count; ~2k words

contents; sfw, f!reader, no curses au, rich college student gojo, cocky/playful gojo, six eye/infinity references

notes; THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LIL DRABBLE IDK WHAT HAPPENED? i <3 run ons and sentence fragments apparently

——————————————————————————

the first thing you noticed about him were his eyes.

well, technically, his eyes noticed you first.

in the midst of your monday 10am lecture (known for its lengthy, soul-wrenching talks about finance), you felt his sharp gaze pierce straight into your soul. it was a brief, quick glance — but it was an intentional glance, nonetheless.

you simply brushed it off. it must’ve been him zoning out, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. that was until you caught him repeating the same habit again. and again. over the course of the next three weeks.

that same, hungry gaze, taking in every intricacy of your features. a look that felt like it set your entire body on fire, despite the icy blue hue his pupils reflected each time you returned a glance. his stare would only last a few seconds at most, but something about it felt so intense, so overbearing— it made hold your breath each time.

in all honesty, you didn't mind the attention. in fact, you kind of reveled in it — a handsome, 6'3 guy always ogling at you every lecture. it even had you thinking that maybe he was into you?

but that was at first. as more weeks passed, the more your ego shrank. 'is there something on my face,' you wondered, patting at your cheeks to search for some sort of makeup residue or food crumb, 'do i look stupid?' the large, echoey lecture hall felt evermore revealing as you struggled to find a way to shrink into your plastic-clad seat. but you couldn't hide, not from a stare like that.

paranoia getting the best of you, you slide your phone out of your pocket as you send a hasty text to your best friend, “bro who is this guy? he keeps staring at me EVERY lecture,” you send a 0.5x photo, clearly taken from afar.

just as quickly, your friend responds, “NO FUCKIN WAY is that gojo???” “who the fuck is gojo?”

you could almost feel her attitude burst through the text bubbles, “bro… GOJO. his family is literally loaded?? did you not see his dad surpass bill gates on the global ranking of billionaires?” that text takes you a little by surprise, alternating your eyes between him and the message upon your screen. “okay maybe it’s starting to sound familiar, but still. what’s he doing cosplaying as a broke college kid in my finance class?” you sigh as you continue to tap on your screen, “idgaf that he’s loaded it’s pissing me off that he’s staring at me like 🧿🫦🧿 every lecture.”

your friend reacts with a quick “haha” to your text before responding, “idk man maybe you just caught the attention of the richest guy on campus ;)”

you decided you’ve had enough after reading that text. you’re not about to feed your delusions this early on a monday morning. you’ll admit, he’s a good —no, stunning— looking guy, but you have no time to babysit a boy who was never taught that staring was rude. not to mention, this boy isn't even in the same tax bracket as you. 

brushing it off yet another time, you let out a deep sigh as you flip the page, copying your professor’s notes on the board.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a whole month has passed and this gojo guy is growing more and more cocky with his stolen glances. he's not even trying to hide it anymore.

this fateful wednesday, as you walk into class, he immediately locks onto you. his bright blue orbs follow you from the door to your row, not releasing his gaze in the slightest after you settle into your seat. your grit your teeth in annoyance as you flip through your notebook pages. who does this guy think he is? it’s been a month and he hasn’t even procured the balls to say a single word to you. yet, he’s feasting on you like you’re his final meal on death row. 

the second the class is excused, you immediately beeline towards his seat — stopping in front of his leaning frame while he packs his bag. “dude, what the hell is your problem,” scowling at him as you approach, “i’ve seen you stare at me for weeks now and it’s getting straight creepy."

his ears perk at the sound of your voice, haphazardly zipping up the final pocket of his backpack. when he looks up, his eyes glint with a hint of mischief as he scrunches his nose in a grin — a grin that’s somehow even cockier than his stare.

“i’m just taking in the view, princess,” he jeers, delight in his tone. 

you stare at him incredulously as you take his confession in. so he really has been staring at you? “for one, i’m not your princess," you scoff at his clear disregard of your concern, "second, you might want to think again before you decide to stare at me one more damn time.”

he hums amusingly, shaking his foot in a steady rhythm, “you’re right. i might think about it again.” his grin is even wider now, “why, what are you going to do about it?”

“—look, i don’t know what you’re getting at,” your eyebrows furrow deeper, “but if you keep this shit up, this won’t be the last time you hear from me.”

briskly, you swing around, completely ignoring his bickers as you head straight out the hallway door. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

to gojo, everything you said on wednesday was music to his ears.

he strolled into the next lecture, on monday, with the same shit-eating grin on his face. ‘this wont be the last time he hears from you?' god, he hopes that was true. it made him wonder why he didn’t just stare at you harder in the first place.

everything about you captivated gojo satoru.

from the first day of lecture, he was already mesmerized — by the wafting scent of your cologne as you walked past his row, the way your head cocked to the side whenever you thought through a problem set, the distant clicks as you tapped the end of your pencil against your arm nervously.

he simply couldn’t help but steal that initial glance. he also couldn’t help but steal another one the lecture after.

and another. and another.

he knew he was getting ahead of himself, being so selfish with his dangerous stares, but you just had that effect on him. an effect that he's never experienced with anyone else. he bit back his pride when he couldn’t even approach you first, as he normally did with his prior interests.

there was just something so serene, so heavenly about you. he almost wanted to leave you undisturbed, opting to observe you from afar — not wanting to disrupt his delicate masterpiece from behind the red rope at the museum.

but the day you approached him changed everything. ‘how can someone so innocent have such a mouth on her,’ he chuckles to himself, taking his ipad and apple pencil out of his backpack before laying them flat on the table.

you were completely unlike his initial impression of you, much to his amusement. he prefers it this way —actually— he likes a girl who has a bit of a bite. besides, he finally has an excuse to talk to you and do what he knows best: get under your skin. metaphorically (and literally).

he glances at the door as he hears the familiar clanking of your keychain against your water bottle, more excited for the lecture than he's ever been before.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

there is no fucking way.

gojo satoru is now sitting in the seat directly next to your unassigned assigned seat in this 300-person lecture hall. the entire classroom is almost packed too. how early did he have to be to even get that seat? why is he in that seat? your thoughts are cut off as he waves his hand at you, muttering a short "yoohoo~," ushering you to sit next to him.

hell no. you still have no idea what he's playing at. is he stalking you? does he have some sort of ulterior motive? what if his scary billionaire family kills you, a dirty plebeian, for sitting so close to their perfect, trust fund baby?

you immediately switch gears, practically running away to find a new seat, catching a glimpse of his pout in the corner of your eye. you ignore him and situate yourself in the very front row, directly in front of the professor's podium. you let out a deep exhale as you unpack your notebook when you hear a loud shuffle next to you.

this guy has no shame.

gojo, in all his glory, happily claims the empty seat next to you —unloading the entire apple store (or so it feels like) onto the desk. "good choice, doll. more leg room up here," he stretches his long, lanky legs before crossing them — making sure his knee briefly makes contact with yours.

"are you serious right now— bro your entire apple ecosystem is getting onto my side of the desk," you scowl at him once again as you shove his macbook closer to him. "serious about what?" he mocks, that signature smile gleaming down on you.

"whatever this is? are you obsessed with me or something," you mutter the last part under your breath, but he takes note of you rolling your eyes at him. "hmmm," he taps his chin all philosophically, "if anything you're the one obsessed with me."

wow, this guy really is insane. you felt your eyebrow twitch in anger as you jerked your head up, "me obsessed with you? how does that even make any sense—" "you said you noticed me staring for weeks," he muses, still looking straight at you, "but you don't think i noticed you staring back?"

you scoff, "i was simply just returning your gaze; not everything is about you!” “untrue.”

after refusing to make eye contact, you finally meet his eyes. "i'm not gonna play this damn game with you, look—"

you've never seen him this close before. you've never seen anyone this close before, really. in this cramped lecture hall, with its seats compressed like sardines, it felt like he was only mere millimeters away from you. your breath hitched as the air seemed palpable, heavy. he was so close, but it felt like he was untouchable — almost as if an infinite void was cast between you two.

for the first time, he dropped that condescending smirk. he dropped the facade altogether. beyond the icy blue hues, his eyes glistened a shade that he only shows to you, a shade you've never noticed in all those times you two locked eyes. they were powdery blue — the same softness as the edges of the clouds in the sky or the frothy, tidal waves lightly crashing against the beach sand.

it made you wonder if it was physically possible for one person to hold so much power in just their eyes. a power that felt like three whole people, six eyes-worth, were constantly peering into every fiber of your being. except this time, it was intense in a whole different way, completely unlike before. the closest feeling you could think of was a warm oven, fresh after a batch of cookies — an inexplicable warmth in contrast to his icy appearance.

lost in each others' eyes, he parts his lips as if to finally say something—

"i would really appreciate if you two kept your eyes on the board instead of on each other," a voice boomed from the podium in front of you.

you both tense up, quickly spinning your bodies around to face the front as the snickers began to fill the classroom. you completely forgot about how close you were sitting to the professor.

you felt a tinge of heat start on your cheeks, creeping its way up onto the cartilage of your ears. the embarrassment was more than enough to shut you both up for the rest of the period, but you knew.

you knew you wanted to feel this way again.

——————————————————————————

final notes; i wrote this in my actual lecture hall instead of taking notes guys😎😎 (i am severely ill)

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Jeongin🖤

Pairing: Jeongin x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 1026

Summary: Next on your list is Jeongin, remembering a day where the younger came home devastated after a mistake on stage.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst

A/N: Hii, I'm so sorry, life kept me busy and I had no chance finishing this little post. I hope to be back on track with the four remaining pairings and an eventual bonus chapter of how the boys react if you're interested in that🤭🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you scroll through your photo library, searching for the right image of Jeongin. When you find it, a wave of tenderness washes over you. The picture is from a few nights ago—one of those nights that left your heart aching for him and full of pride all at once. He’s sitting on the floor of the dressing room, his hair tousled and slightly damp with sweat, his makeup smudged around his eyes, staring down at the floor with his lips pressed tightly together. You’re beside him, one arm around his shoulders, your other hand resting gently on top of his. In the photo, his expression is one of frustration and self-doubt, brows furrowed, eyes downcast. But even in the midst of his struggle, there’s something undeniably beautiful about him—something strong and resilient.

You remember that night vividly. Jeongin had messed up a part of the choreography on stage. It was a minor mistake, something no one else probably noticed, but to him, it was huge. You’d seen it the moment he came off stage—the way his shoulders slumped, his gaze averted as if he didn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes. He’d forced a smile for the fans, held himself together until the lights went down, and then quietly slipped away to the dressing room, shoulders tense with self-reproach.

You’d followed him, heart aching, knowing how hard he can be on himself. He’d been sitting on the floor, looking so small and lost, shoulders trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his frustration. When you sat down beside him, he didn’t say a word—didn’t even look up. But you knew what he was feeling—the disappointment, the anger directed inward, the overwhelming need to be perfect.

“Hey, Innie love,” you’d whispered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He’d flinched slightly, then let out a long, shuddering breath, still not looking at you.

“I messed up,” he murmured, voice strained, like the words were clawing at his throat. “Everyone else was perfect, and I… I ruined it.”

Your heart had tightened at the raw pain in his voice. “No, you didn’t,” you’d said gently. “Jeongin, it was just one tiny mistake. No one even noticed.”

But he’d just shaken his head, fists clenched on his knees. “I noticed. It’s my job to get it right, and I couldn’t. I’m supposed to be better than this.”

You’d stayed quiet, letting him speak, letting him vent. Then, without another word, you’d wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. He’d resisted at first, his whole body stiff and tense, but then the dam broke. He’d sagged against you, his face buried in your shoulder, his hands clutching desperately at your shirt as if holding on for dear life. His breathing was harsh and uneven, each exhale filled with a mix of anger and helplessness. All you could do was hold him, murmuring soft, comforting words, rubbing his back gently until the storm inside him started to calm.

“It’s okay, Innie. It’s okay to mess up sometimes. It doesn’t change how amazing you are. Not even a little.”

For a long time, you stayed like that, just holding him, feeling his body gradually relax against yours. He didn’t say anything, but you could sense the shift—the way the tension slowly drained out of him, replaced by a heavy, weary kind of acceptance.

Eventually, he’d pulled back, his eyes red but his expression softer, more resigned. “Thank you,” he’d whispered, voice still rough around the edges but steadier now. “I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize,” you’d cut in gently, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be perfect, Jeongin. You just have to be you. That’s more than enough.”

You attach the picture to a new message, feeling the emotions from that night all over again. Fingers trembling slightly, you begin typing, knowing exactly what you want to say to the boy who tries so hard to be perfect, when all you want is for him to see just how perfectly imperfect he already is.

Message to Jeongin:

Hey Innie love,

I know this picture isn’t from your best moment, but I wanted to send it to you anyway because I think it’s a reminder of something important. That night, you were so frustrated with yourself, and I know how much that tiny mistake hurt you. But to me, this photo doesn’t show someone who messed up. It shows someone who’s strong enough to keep going, even when things don’t go perfectly. It shows someone who cares deeply about what he does, who wants to give his best every single time.

But you know what, Innie? It’s okay to stumble sometimes. It’s okay to have moments when things don’t go the way you planned. That’s what makes you human, and that’s what makes me love you even more. Because you always get back up, always push forward, always try to be better. But please remember—being perfect isn’t what makes you special. It’s your heart, your determination, your courage to show your vulnerable side.

I’m so proud of you, not just for your talent, but for your resilience. So, even on the days when you feel like you’ve let yourself down, I want you to know that I’ll always see the amazing person you are. No mistakes could ever change that.

Happy anniversary, Innie love. Here’s to more moments, both perfect and imperfect, and to loving every single one of them because they’re all a part of you.

Love you so much,

Your biggest fan and supporter.

You send the message, your heart aching with tenderness. You can already picture his reaction—how he’ll probably read it in silence, his eyes growing soft and misty. He might not say much in reply, might just send a quiet, heartfelt “thank you.” But you know it’ll mean everything to him, because Jeongin isn’t someone who needs grand gestures. He just needs to know that he’s enough, just as he is.

And that’s what you’ll keep reminding him, every single chance you get. Because he’s your Innie love—the one who shines brightest, even when he thinks his light is fading.

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin

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[superluver]

Dingy Camera G.S.

6.2k words | cw: Angst, Gore, Character death, MAJOR JJK MANGA SPOILERS, S2 Spoilers, (No)happy ending/ slight comfort, Follows the Events of Gojo's Past arc+un-canon events at ending for the plot, MAJOR mental health warning, FEM READER

THIS STORY DOES NOT CONTAIN PEDOPHILIA

Gojo is very pushy

Description: Gojo was in love with you—his Highschool teacher and the strongest sorcerer of your time— who had known him since he was young. You don't see him in that light, but he is stubborn, even as a highschool student. You are watching your students grow up, becoming stronger with each passing second. And after the failed Star-Plasma Vessel trip, you set out on a man-hunt for your father, who is harboring a new woman's body as his own...

☆*:.｡. Starting here .｡.:*☆

It's dark in the apartment, well.. condo— he is a rich man after all— yet, he can see it all.

He remembers his way around the place, has for many years. He doesn’t even need his six eyes to know where he stands.

He just knows.

When he bought the condo, he purchased the furniture along with it, to keep that memory alive. It was all he had left. Sometimes he wonders if she were alive, how strange it would be, if the Zenin, Gojo, and Kamo clan’s prized possessions all sat at a dinner table, chatting about their days in peace.

He finds himself standing at the table, near the door, with a photograph. A much older woman, patting his and Suguru’s head aggressively, her chin laying on Shoko’s. Her grin was broad, a cigarette peeking out from the corner of her mouth. He and Suguru had an annoyed expression, hence the blurry photo. It was them trying to pull her off them as she was pressing their heads down so she would appear taller.

She was tall already, but two boys that were in the midst of their puberty, skyrocketing like a bean sprout, was a bit degrading to her very large ego. Her upper arm, hardly visible to the camera’s view, has a cloth— the exact same Satoru uses to cover her arm— wrapped around it with a cute little bunny knot that pokes from the side.

He closes his eyes, pulling the cloth from his eyes, breathing out.

“Hey, Sensei! Spar with me!” Satoru shouts, he’s a first year, not knowing anyone but you, the woman who watched him grow up. “Hah?” You chuckle, shaking your head with a smoking cigarette peeking from the corner.

You're sitting at your desk in your chair, it has wheels, which you occasionally spin in circles when no one is watching. Though, since your class is in session, you lay your feet on the wooden desk, which is dented from the amount of time you’ve slammed your heels on it. With your free hand— the other occupied with a newspaper— you shoo him off, continuing, “No way, you’re too weak. And,” you fwip your newspaper, “I’m busy, as you can see.”

He gapes, extremely offended. “I’m the strongest there is!” He shouts, his thumb pointing at his chest, which he puffs out.

“Alright, strongest.” You tease, watching his face grow red as you bare what you like to call, a shit eating grin.

“Let’s see, how strong are you?”

Your head turns to your other first year students, Suguru and Shoko.

Suguru sits with his head in hit palm, clearly dazed and exhausted, and Shoko has her head up in the air, leaning back in her seat with a straw in her mouth. Her arms dangling at her side.

The nearing summer heat is killing all of you, but it's impacting your classes too. The windows are open to let the breeze in, but if you close it, the classroom will turn into an oven. You have a fan running in the background, but only at you.

You know what they say, beggars can’t be choosers.

“If— if I win, we get the fan.”

Suguru and Shoko’s ears perk up, their attention on their classmate.

You shrug, placing the newspaper down. “Alright,” your fingers take the cigarette from your lips with one last puff, blowing the air away with the side of your mouth.

“Here's the deal—” you put it out on the already ashened ashtray. “If you guys win, I’ll buy all three of you fans” you tell them, holding three fingers up, then pointing to your own. “And you can even have mine.”

Then, you smile, it's a scary one that sends shivers down Satoru’s back. “But if I win, not only will the three of you work your asses off outside, you’ll be fully clothed in your uniforms, no unbuttoning, no fans, no water—”

“But Sensei, we’ll die without water!” Shoko whines, still chewing on the straw.

“No you won’t, I'll make sure you three won't. So might as well hydrate before. From dawn till dusk, we’ll train like you’ve never trained before, for the entire week, starting as soon as he loses."

That last sentence froze the room, and you continued with your closed eyes smile, waving Satoru off. “I’ll let the three of you discuss it amongst yourselves.”

He gulps, nodding before trudging back with a slouch to his friends. You observe them whisper, then watch as Satoru gets him in the head before all three of them nod.

He seems more confident, striding back. His hands slam on your desk, his glasses gleam, and that grin you taught him, “I’ll do it!”

You mirror that grin standing up, towering over the growing student, “Atta boy,”

He finds himself in the outdoor gym, right beside the track.

You, even as a teacher, never wore the Jujutsu Uniform, maybe the bottoms at times, but your top was always a tank top. In the bleachers, most of the staff. Your Colleague Mei Mei, old student Utahime, Yaga, everyone was there, to witness the worst defeat that the first years could ever experience.

“Satoru?” You call out sweetly, a newly lit cigarette sitting in the corner of your mouth. You turn, smiling to the camera that Mei Mei points at the two of you, quickly holding up a peace sign.

“Yes?”

“You have anymore conditions you wanna add before I beat you?”

He looks around, almost contemplating whether he should tell you before pointing at himself.

“Go on a date with me?”

“START!”

You laugh, dropping the cigarette and stomping on it.

“In your dreams.”

Satoru is quick, activating his infinity like it’s nothing, then going in for a quick blow. “Cursed Technique Lapse—”

You yawn.

His hand is angled to you, “Blue.”

The ground beneath you is pulled, most things around are pulling into him. All but you, standing still on the ground before being thrown back at you.

It's loud, the rubble falling onto you causing gasps from the Bleachers from students. It's a cloud of smoke, and when it clears, you’re no where to be found.

Hell, even Gojo grows worried. Blood pools from underneath the rubble, and he wants to step forward, make sure you're alright, but he remembers your words.

'Satoru, if anything happens, don’t come near me. If you think the battle is over, it’s just beginning.'

He sighs, awaiting something, anything, but still, nothing. He finds himself putting down his infinity, and Suguru slaps his hand into his face, sighing. He never listens to anything anyone has to say to him.

He finally takes a step, but this is when you finally make your appearance.

“Hey, Satoru.” You groan, pushing off a large slab that sits atop of you.

“You really— wow that was heavy —you need to start listening to the things we adults tell you.” You sigh, bringing a hand in front of yourself, clenching your fist with only your pointer finger out, pointing it at him.

“Cursed Technique,” Your blood behind to fly in front of you, turning into objects similar to needles.

You smile at him, not saying anything else, and he tries again, only to find you were tricking him.

The needles fly, hitting his pressure points.

His eyes fly open, before he falls, paralyzed.

Your binding vow allows you to access a higher amount of your cursed energy for every attack given. Blood Manipulation, a technique handed to you from your Clan, Kamo, allows you to manipulate your own blood at will. You decided to create a binding bow with yourself, allowing you to create a higher input of Cursed energy, to 120% into your attacks. Every attack given to you, that causes you to lose blood, would cause an even greater attack to be inflicted on the person because of this. It's confusing to explain, but you made sure to demonstrate it to your first years.

Satoru just doesn't listen.

Mei Mei is still taking photos of the ordeal with your camera, sure to share them with Yuki, your former classmate.

Satoru stares up at you, who is looking down at him with a smile, your hair falling with gravity, the sun behind your head, illuminating your strands.

“I am the strongest for a reason.” You grin at him, kneeling down and placing a palm on his chest, taking back your blood, which sits in a ball in your hand.

You turn to the bleachers, whistling to your other students who are in the midst of running away.

“Cmere.”

They sigh, walking off.

“I’ve got an errand to run, so you’re going to stay with Yaga—”

“WHAT!” Yaga shouts in the distance, but you ignore him completely, continuing, “and his students. Kapeesh?” You point at them.

They all nod, and you help Satoru up, patting his shoulder.

“Yaga, make sure their uniforms are completely buttoned up, no water, nothing. Just make 'em run. I don't want to see a jog, no walk, just run.”

He nods slowly, watching you send him a thumbs up before patting Shoko’s head.

You scurry off, and are gone for quite some time. So long in fact, that it's already dusk. The trio is sweaty, out of breath panting, and overall exhausted. They walk back to the classroom, the hallways are hot and expect the room to be an oven, yet when they enter, it’s chilly.

On their desks, each their own fan, and you, with your arms crossed, asleep.

No matter how annoying their teacher was, she was always the best.

Was.

By the time they became second years, you were always in and out, or just on the phone. Yaga was now their teacher, but you are still their favorite. Days when you were there, they would sit in your classroom after ditching Yaga’s, sitting with Kento and Yu.

“You three better run off back to your class.” You tell them, smoking with your reading glasses sitting at the bridge of your nose. You has a piece of chalk in your hand as you wrote on the chalkboard, equations that now seem like a piece of cake to them.

They grew too fast over the summer, the boys towering over you. Shoko was still a short girl, who was now smoking. You wonder where she picked that up from.

“Nah! We’ll stay here.” Satoru told her, sitting in your seat and swirling around.

Defeated, you sigh, “Suit yourself.”

He stares at you as you write; really taking in your state. Eyebags that were darker than usual, chapped lips, more empty cigarettes boxes, and don't forget to mention the frequent phone calls.

And, as ironic as it sounds, your phone rings. From the title, he can see a name, read as Yuki.

You click your tongue, placing the hall down and running your hand through your hair. As you pass by, you place a hand on his head, ruffling it while flipping open your phone.

“Yea, Yuki?” Then, you walk out.

Your voice is muffled, slowly fading out the more you walk down the hallway. The last thing he could make out was the word ‘Dad’.

The five students sit in awkward silence before Satoru finally breaks the ice.

“What’s up with her?”

The question was for everyone in general, but mainly towards the first years, who got to see her more than he did, which did get him jealous.

“A mission! Supposedly she’s hunting someone down.” Yu speaks up, and Satoru quickly asks.

“Who?”

“A man named K—”

“We don’t know.” Kento speaks up, and it's obvious he’s lying considering the fact that Yu was about to say the man's name.

He didn't press any longer, only narrowing his eyes. Then, humming, leaning back in her seat. It smelt just like her.

He closed his eyes, the plan running through his mind. He nods, thinking how genius he is.

Later, he finds himself in your apartment, sitting at your dining table.

You would jump if you didn’t feel his cursed energy waving from the parking lot.

“Well, here we have a rogue student.” You joke, slipping your shoes off at the door.

“Your shoes off?”

He looks down at his feet, then back up, nodding. “I remember some things.”

You grin, “I know, I didn't make you completely useless.”

It's silent, his eyes wander to the stove. The time was 3:42am, he had been waiting for her for a long time.

“What were you doing?” He asks, staring as she begins boiling water. “Hm? Mission. Tea?” You ask, trying to lighten his mood and overall pressing.

He shakes his head, and you stare at him. His clothes are changed, hair damp, almost completely dry. “Who are you hunting—”

The handle of your tea cup breaks off, the base falling to the ground. It shatters, you stare down at it blankly.

“Satoru.” You say his name coldly, the kettle begins to whistle loud.

“My affairs have nothing to do with you.”

The distance between the two of you is great, like a ripple in time, about immeasurable.

“B-but! I can help you—!”

“Satoru!” You shout, glaring at him, your eyes glowing, face darkens. You calm when you see his expression, almost hurt, and scared. His eyebrows contorted, his lips parted. “Satoru.” You whisper now, walking to him with your arm open. You embrace him, his head to your stomach. Fingers play in his white hair.

“I don’t want you getting hurt. The last thing I want of you is for you to get hurt. This is my own burden,” you take his face in your hands, smiling, “You understand? Taking the future away from children is unforgivable.”

He sighs heavily, wondering when you would stop seeing him as a child, and in a new light as a man.

“I’m not a kid.” He grumbles, his arms wrap around your torso willingly.

“Then a baby,” you joke with a coo, shaking him left and right softly.

“Mei is taking Iori on a mission, I’ll be accompanying them. So, we’ll be gone for no longer than a day.” You inform, stroking his head.

He nods, his eyes growing heavy.

“If you're tired, go to bed.”

“No.”

You shake your head, a light chuckle escaping past your lips. So stubborn. “Suit yourself.”

You go back around to the kitchen, turning off the kettle. “I’ll go shower, your tea is ready.” You tell him, walking over and holding his cup by the rim, placing it on the coaster in front of him. His eyes stare at the cup, almost cautiously. He nods, taking the cup from the table.

By the time you're done, you find the boy asleep upright on the chair, his head down and eyes closed, small snores escaping his lips.

You find yourself scurrying to your table by the door, rummaging through the drawer to pull out an old camera, snapping pictures of him. You laugh, placing the camera on the table he’s at, kneeling in front of him to stare.

You don't remember him growing up this fast, it kind of hurts.

Your hand goes up to his face, squeezing his nose to stop him from breathing. His eyes open wide, and you laugh at his panicked face.

“To bed with you.” You whisper, and he tiredly nods, taking your hand as you lead him to the guest bedroom, but he stops when you try to pull him into the room.

“Satoru,”

He looks down with a pout, his shaggy hair covering his eyes.

“I want to sleep with you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, shaking your head with a sigh before leading him to your room. Allowing him to open your sheets and sprawl into your bed. You tuck him back in, patting his stomach as you lay down.

“Just like when you were a child. Always asking your parents to sleep over, and of course I let them. You were so cute!” You exclaim, positioning yourself to your side. He stares up into the ceiling, and you watch him. Your head on your hand.

“Stop staring into Narnia, sleep—”

“You won’t die, will you?”

His voice is soft, and he won't look at you. He doesn’t want to see how you're staring at him. Your eyes wide, lips puffed, clearly taken aback.

“Ah, what makes you say that?” You whisper, your tone dropping.

“You don’t sleep, your never home—”

“You’ve been in my house?”

He pouts, “Technically, it’s not a house.”

You laugh at his response. “Satoru, I’m a human.”

“But the strongest.”

“You’ve seen me bleed. I don’t plan on dying right now, but everyone dies, some sooner than others.”

Now, he finally turns to you and your smiling face. He doesn’t cry, not that you’re surprised. He's never cried.

You hear him breathe out a hum, closing his eyes. A smile graces your lips, and you brush his stray hairs from his twitching nose, which tickles him.

“Good night,” you whisper, before getting up and sitting at the chair beside your bed, and wrapping a blanket around yourself.

After a few days of no sleep, it finally hits you like bricks, a shame you have to wake up at seven, but you’ll be sure to thank those two hours of sleep that grace your schedule.

—

The yawn that passes your lips is atrocious. It's the 13th one that you’ve done, and Iori is growing irritated. “Sensei—”

“(Y/N) to you champ,” You correct her, and she bites back her tongue.

“(Y/N)-san.. did you sleep by any chance?” She asks, smiling with tight lips. You, on the other hand, raise an eyebrow, your head leaning on Mei Mei's shoulder, who’s clicking through her red flip phone.

“My personal life is none of your concern.” You tell her.

You swear, the younger these new sorcerers are, the more disrespectful they get.

It’s raining, the roads are wet and slippery. Silence fills the vehicle, aside from the frequent wipes of the window shields and Mei tapping through her phone. You don’t even remember dozing off, just appearing in front of a screwed up house.

Iori turns around, staring at her old teacher and new colleague. She respects her, but can’t stand her. She is the reason Gojo is the way he is.

“You have to keep watch out here in case anything happens.”

With your pinky finger deep in your ear, you're clearly disinterested. “Yeah yeah..” waving them off, Mei mei gives you one final look, her features resembled that of a feline, elegant and cool, she smiles, striding off with her umbrella behind the young sorcerer.

“Two hours!” You shout at their disappearing figures.

That's the reason you were there, to determine whether this was a time warping curse. It’s quite possible the flow of time is distorted in there.

So you sat, and waited. And waited, and waited, until two hours did pass.

With a sigh, you take out your flip phone, dialing Yaga and explaining to him the situation.

“The flow of time is different here, yeah. Utahime is with Mei. … After two days, come assist if Utahime can’t get it.”

You close your device, trudging into the building. Your eyes close, the smell of blood reeks, but you continue to follow the familiar cursed energy, followed by a high pitched scream.

“With a scream like that, you could be a scream queen.” You laugh, throwing your head back.

“Kamo-san!” Utahime exclaims, almost in relief.

“Yoohoo!” You greet, waving your hand at her, the other lost in your pocket.

“Have you figured it out yet?” You ask, your head tilting.

She stares at you, almost annoyed.

“Not yet.”

“You best hurry,” you start, fishing a cigarette from your pocket. It’s not boxed, your pocket is just full of cigarettes. The other pocket held the lighter. Your hand cups it, lighting the cigarette. A cloud of smoke hits her in the face, and you laugh at her, pointing as she waving her hand away.

“Sorry about that, but anyways,” your pointer finger is pointing in the air, moving in circles. “Time is running differently in here.”

“I had the feeling,” Mei says, standing besides you.

“Go on Utahime, figure it out.” You shoo her, sitting on the ground of the hallway. It's dirty, dust and bugs crawling throughout the space, but you’ve dealt with worse.

In a daze, you hear Utahime and Mei’s muffled voice, a couple thuds, then the ground, which you were sitting on, crumbling apart.

The three of you in a free fall, though the only one panicking seems to me Utahime.

You're falling in circles, hair flying everywhere, cigarette still in your mouth, you take off the bandage from your finger, opening the scab and drip blood. You bring the heat of your blood to almost boiling, turning it into vapor so you can stay above in the air.

Utahime is screaming bloody murder still, and no doubt in your mind that she could be the next scream queen.

You find yourself next to Shoko, listening to Satoru tease Utahime. “You cryin?"

“No! I’m not, respect your Seniors!” She shouts, crushed by the rubble.

You ruffle Shoko’s hair before coming behind Satoru, closing your fist you knock the back of his skull.

“Ow!” He whines, holding it in pain.

“Be respectful, kid.” You scold, blowing the smoke from your cigarette away from him. Your hand grabs ahold of the large rubble that crushes Utahime, allowing her to crawl out.

“If I was crying? Would you console me?” Mei asked, Gojo responding seriously, but also playfully.

“No way! You wouldn't cry, you're strong Mei!” He tells her, and you sigh.

Utahime, still on the ground, shoots up. The rubble pieces on her back fell, and you stared blankly at him.

“GOJO!”

Behind her, a large curse pokes up, startling Utahime, and even you a little. Utahime jumps on you, who is still holding the rubble piece up. You drop it, eyes wide as you stare at it.

“Yikes.” You whisper, when another curse eats it.

“Hey, Satoru. It’s not nice to pick on the weak!” You hear a familiar voice.

Suguru, under the influence of Satoru.

“How long do you plan on holding on for?” You ask teasingly, feeling the girl shake.

She stares into your eyes before jumping off, her face red as a tomato, teeth clenched while her finger waves at you accusingly.

“I-I- I DIDN’T MEAN THAT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE.. uh.. My dog! Yea, my dog!”

You raise an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was a bit, comforting..” you tell her, teasing her by showing her your embarrassed face, gaze to your side, flickering around before looking back into her eyes. Your arms hold yourself, and you laugh right as her mouth pops open.

She quickly leaves when she notices Shoko. Hugging the girl tightly,

“Sensei!” Shoko calls out, and you notice something.

It’s as bright as day. The sun shining down on all of you, the clouds on the blue sky.

You gaze up blankly, slightly in a daze.

“What is missing?” You whisper to yourself, your fingers rubbing on your chin.

Then, amongst their conversation, you hear one of them talk about a veil, presumably discussing an outfit, and you internally hear glass shatter.

The three students kneel in front of Yaga.

“Who was in charge of the veil?” He asks, and the two point to the one in the middle.

Satoru.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, groaning.

Again, your phone rings. Satoru stares at you, almost accusingly, but you pay him no mind.

“Yuki,” you start, walking out the room. Satoru looks in a daze watching you leave, and Yaga following suit, punches the boys on the head before he leaves.

“Hey, we can see the hearts in your eyes.” Suguru teases, hitting his shoulder.

“Really!? You can?!” He asks, genuinely curious.

The two stop and stare at him, and Satoru feels stupid.

“I’m obviously kidding.”

“..”

“..”

“You can’t send them on that!” You shout at Yaga, so loudly that just they can hear you as clear as day.

The school rumbles under your wrath, a fee students in the classrooms fearful. But the trio in the gym stand uncaring.

“Please, Yaga.”

Yaga looks down at you, sighing before patting your head. “It’s not my decision, kid.”

You right the corners of your eyes, chewing on your bottom lip.

“I know.” You whisper, walking away from him.

When your kids were going on a life threatening mission, you were being sent off by the higher ups, finding your father.

Kenjaku.

It would be hard, considering he changes his body every few years.

You don't understand why Riko Amanai was being in the care of two second years. You’ve already been in contact with her for a couple months, filling her in on things no one else wanted to do.

You could easily take care of this, but higher-ups said Kenjaku was first.

So you bit down your tongue, swallowed the ball forming in your throat, and walked away from the school campus.

I remember Dad, he had that scar over his forehead.

You flipped open your phone, receiving a message from Yuki, which read, Sendai City, and an attached image of a woman, bobbed hair, and that same scar through her forehead holding a toddler.

You hold your breath.

A brother.

Even though the two of you, biologically speaking, had different parents, you couldn't help but notice similarities the two of you had. Same gleam in your eyes, same cheeky smile.

You found yourself chuckling a bit at the photo, and at the boy.

“Okay,” you whisper, your phone back into your pocket with a nod. Hand clenched. “Sendai,” you tell yourself, marching off.

…

…

You should have come earlier. The Jujutsu Tech, was a nightmare. Blood everywhere, a destroyed entrance, and a failed mission.

They sent you to get rid of Kenjaku, but when you heard of what had happened, you rushed back home.

Your mind running a million times a minute. Toji killed Riko, he hurt your students.

All you could think about were your boys.

“Satoru?! Suguru?!” You shout, running towards the dorm rooms. Just as your about to knock on Satoru’s door, Suguru is beside you. “He’s not in there.”

You almost gasp at his appearance, so different from what your used to. His hair is out, his eyes purple and bloodshot from crying, he’s not in his uniform.

White baggy shirt and some sweatpants you gave him as a first year that had finally come to fit him.

You give him a broken smile.

“C’mere,” you whisper, opening your arms to him. You pat his back, rubbing it in circles, but he doesn’t cry.

He trembles, but he doesn't cry.

“It was my fault, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have left—”

“I’m too weak.” He cuts you off, his forehead on your shoulder. “I can’t keep up with him anymore.” He tells you, and your heart almost breaks.

You give him a reassuring squeeze, sighing. “Suguru, in this world, nobody is truly equal.” It's the honest truth, you think. Something you wish someone had told you in your younger days. “I just hope, in this life, you can all find happiness.”

You hold his face in your hands, smiling up at him.

“My kids are growing up so big, so fast. So I'll do this one last time.” You tell him, that last part confusing him, but you notice his eyes gloss over.

One last time.

You make your way to Shoko after taking Suguru back to his bed, who is in the second year classroom, alone.

You lean at the doorway, and she doesn’t notice you. A cigarette sticking from the corner of her mouth as she flips through her medical books. A bag of opened chips sit on the three desks she put together. The room is dim, but familiar.

“There’s my favorite girl,” you greet, finally walking up to her.

She too, seems more tired than usual.

You pat her head, ruffling her hair a bit.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” She asks with a smile, watching you stare at the three desks, letters carved into them. You chuckle, responding without looking.

“I’m here to say goodbye.”

She blinks, then laughing. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you're.. going to die..” realization hits her.

You only smile back, hand on her cheek as you stroke her with your thumb.

“Lay off on the cigarettes,” you begin, and she takes her head out of your grasp, shaking her head profusely.

“No..”

“Make sure to make your bed in the morning, brush your teeth, wash your face,”

“Stop.” She says, chewing on the cigarette.

“Oh and make sure those morons take care of themselves as well.

“Sensei!”

You stare at her, and she looks in your eyes.

You find your eyes watering. This has never happened before. You don’t recall a single memory of you crying. But, here you are. In front of one of your old students, crying.

“Ah, this is so strange.” You mutter, wiping your eyes, and Shoko stares at you, her own face growing red, eyes filled with emotion.

“Take care, Sensei.” She tells you, hugging you hard.”

You snort, squeezing her back. “You too, I love you all very much.”

You leave her back to her studying. Your first years, took it easier. They’re too gullible, to innocent, you can’t tell them.

You wave them goodbye, and lastly was Satoru.

But he wasn’t there.

He was, somewhere.

Not where she needed him.

She laughed at herself, shaking her head as she made her way back to Sendai.

Her last phone call was made to Yuki, “Hey,” you start. And she’s silent. You hear sniffles from her end of the phone, and you can’t help but tease her. “If you start crying now I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“I love you.” You tell her, and she’s crying on the line, unable to say anything. You end the call, the last one to make, Satoru. Of course, he doesn’t answer, so you talk for the voicemail.

“Satoru, my boy. My pride and joy, you weren’t at school so I couldn’t talk to you face to face. And I have a lot that I want to say, but I'm running on limited time.”

You swallow, walking down the street, and hand in your pocket, other holding your flip phone to your ear.

“Don’t blame yourself, number one. I don’t wanna hear, I should have been there, or blah blah blah. Only I’m allowed to do that. Anyways, I'm sure at this point, you’re stronger than me. Way stronger than me. But, not the strongest. I’m the strongest. Does that make sense? I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I just wanted to tell you, it’s been a pleasure knowing you, and I'm sorry I won’t be able to see you become the man you’ve dreamt of being. I love you, Satoru, and take care of yourself and the other—”

Your time with the caller is over, your voicemail has been sent.

“Ah damn.” You mutter, standing in front of a warehouse.

Cursed energy if radiating from the center, so you bring your fingers up. Your pink and ring fingers interlock, your middle fingers curl, fitting side by side, and your pointer fingers are straight up, the tips touching each other, your thumbs too.

“Domain expansion: Bloody Mirror.”

Satoru hears glass breaking while on his way back to the school, his hands are in his pockets, and he’s care free, thinking about bothering his Sensei—

Screams is all he hears. Sobs, and Yaga, his head down and shaking, holding what seemed to me a bloodied armband.

Heh, funny. It looks like the same one that (Y/N) used.

Utahime stands in front of Yaga, head in her hands and shaking her head. This was just a dream, she kept telling herself, but her sobs wouldn’t stop.

“Satoru.” A voice called out, it was Yaga. Even from far away, his voice was just so clear.

His steps grew heavier, like weights were on his ankles. His posture even began slouching, with his heart racing.

“Hey Yaga! Say, where’s (Y/N)- Sensei? She’s always out and about—”

“She’s dead.”

“And she never comes home..” he says, whispering the words home. He doesn’t even realize his eyes go wide, of that the only sound he can hear is his beating heart. It scared him. Really badly, it scared him. His feet carried him to Shoko’s ‘Lab’, though it was really a morgue.

He didn’t expect to find Suguru, who was usually holed away in his room since the incident, sitting on the chair looking down. His hands clenched, he didn’t want to get up.

Shoko’s eyes were red, puffy, tired.

A cloth over the body, and his feet took him to it.

He saw someone, with the same hair color as you under there, and it had felt like he had died again.

He began peeling the cloth away, but that’s when Shoko stopped him, right below your eyes, that's where she stopped him.

What he didn’t get to see, what only Shoko saw, was the largest, hole in a person’s face she had ever scene in her small, but broad highschool years as a healer.

Not only was your mouth missing, but your arm was completely ripped off, and if she had to describe how it had been torn, it would have looked like string cheese, as though someone had torn it off in such a way, as to torture you.

Another hole through your chest, your intestines no longer existed and your spinal cord severed, but, through and through, they were told you still won.

Only dropping down when a sorcerer came, giving them a smile before plopping down.

“Let me see her.” Satoru tells her, but his grip is weak, his hands tremble.

“Let me heal her first—”

“Let me see her first! I want to see.. I want to see how she won.” He says, his voice going from a loud shout to a soft whisper.

Shoko lets go, turning away because she doesn’t want to have to bear the sight of the scene once more.

Satoru drops it, wanting to scream but nothing will come out, wanting to cry, but his eyes are just so dry.

He wants to say something, but his voice is gone.

He’s gone.

He stares down blankly at the corpse, The Strongest is dead.

The next one will take over, the cycle never ending.

He doesn't even realize that his breathing grows labored, his eyes, for the first time in his life, are unable to see.

His six eyes, the jewels of his clan, prevent him from seeing.

He can’t feel anything, he can’t move, but he finds himself in the middle of your apartment. Pictures of him and you and Shoko and Suguru, and Yaga—

Everybody.

With that dingy camera, you snapped hundreds of photos. He knew where you would hide the camera, so when he skimmed through it, he found himself falling apart. Pictured from days he doesn't even remember, his childhood all in this stupid old camera.

So stupid.

But he can’t contain himself. He can’t control his heart, the way his forehead hits the wood floors as he begs God, He who blessed the young Gojo, for her back. He would give anything for her back. His heart was with her, it would never come back.

The more he clicked through them the more he would ache. Looking at the photos with a trembling hand, he comes across one where the four of them are smushed in the back seat of a car. All of them sleeping, with someone else, presumably the driver that you threatened begged to take a photo for you. You were winking, finger to your lips like you were shushing.

Shoko was on top of your lap, Suguru and Satoru on either side, leaning on your shoulders.

He chuckled, and the more we went, the more silly photos he came across. He found himself wiping his tears away, replacing them with his laughter.

Shoved away in his pocket was your armband, which he now used as his blindfold, and in the other.

A dingy old camera to take photos, and make memories with his students.

But, sometimes, he’ll go back to the original camera, that hides away in the same drawer, looking at the past and reliving those memories.

He wonders how Megumi feels every time he looks at the numerous photos of you that are scattered in the house. The carvings of Gojo’s height, made by you as he grew. The two strongest, living in one house, at the same time. So, he looks Megumi, possibly as a projection of himself, but he has Tsumiki. He also finds it funny, when Itadori is with him, baring the same smoke you once had.

Wanting to laugh, it seems that the Strongest are always taking in the enemy's kid. It’s like a bong between them all.

From one strongest to another.

[estellemusings]

HSR-Scenarios

Dan Heng x f!reader

🌟 : your little brother and Dan Heng

Everybody looks at you in disbelief, who wouldn't when a boy is standing next to you.

It was your younger brother, you were in charge of looking after him for the mean time

He smiles at everyone as you introduce him.

March, Stelle, Himeko and Welt introduce themselves to him. March keeps saying how adorable he is.

He entertained them until he saw a familiar figure from afar. He broke free from the people surrounding him to run to that person

"Big brother" he shouted

Dan Heng was startled since he just arrived at the parlor car but instinctively caught the running child. He knew this was your brother but didn't expect him to call him "brother"

"Big Brother?" he asks

He nod with enthusiasm

"Big sis told me about you, you're big brother Dan Heng. The handsome brother"  as a wide grin plastered on his lips

Dan Heng looks up and meets your gaze as the corner of his mouth rises.

"Stop!! I-i didn't say that" you stuttered as a  reddish shade tint your cheeks while you approached them

"You did!, you even said he looks handsome when he's ser-" you place your hand on his mouth to stop him from talking.

Watching you bickering with your brother is such a rare sight.

In the midst of your bickering, Himeko called you out to ask for some help with an errand.

You entrust your brother to Dan Heng for the meantime.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Sorry for passing him to you"

"Don't worry love, I'll take care of him" he reassured you

You press a kiss on his cheeks to say thank you. Before leaving you told your brother to be good.

Dan Heng brought him to his room, seeing all different kinds of books and some techs he never seen before.

He pointed out the Data Bank, asking Dan Heng if what's that for.

"That's for work" He answered

"Can we access it?" The boy looks at him with pleading eyes that makes it hard for him to say no.

Instead he look for a thing that can shift his attention away from the Data Bank. His gaze lands on books full of stories

"That book is rather more interesting" Dan Heng grab the book of stories and gave it to him

Seeing the title, he excitedly opened the book to read it.

They settle down on his bed. Leaning their back on the shelves beside the bed.Dan Heng picks up is own book and they engrossed themselves in reading

For some reason he was curious on what you've been telling your brother.

"What did she say about me" Dan Heng asks

He ponders for a moment on what to answer

" She met this amazing, intelligent and handsome man. That for some reason loves her so much. And she also told me i'll like you and guess sis was right" he answered smiling ear to ear

Warmth enveloped him, he really does love you but at the same time you do too as well.

They return their attention to the book they're read. Silence filled the room again

You just finished the tasks and walked back to his room. A gasp left your lips  the moment the door opens

They're sleeping, your brother leaning his head on his shoulders. Blanket wrapped around both of them.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, you grab your phone and snap the photo of them.

You approached them and placed a kiss on their foreheads as you said good night. Before leaving you look back one last time.

You're really lucky to have Dan Heng by your side.

You left the room with a smile etched on your lips.

© telle's musings

5-07-23

[ros64]

From @dianagabaldon site

⚠️⚠️ATTENZIONE SPOILER PER CHI NON HA LETTO TUTTI I LIBRI FINO A BEES ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Today is the Fourth (and final) Sunday of Advent. The waiting is almost over, but the anticipation is still to be enjoyed. The final candle (since we’ve used the other labels) is Peace.

Peace is one of those things that you can’t really define (not that people don’t, but—like love—it has depths and shimmering facets of meaning), but you know it when you encounter it. Hence the Biblical quote, “The peace that passeth understanding.”

Peace often comes and finds you in the midst of Things (like realizing you’re leaving for the journey to another city for Christmas in two hours, and you haven’t yet wrapped the presents that you need to drop off at FedEx on the way…), and we often don’t realize that this happens because we carry peace with us, all the time.

Peace is part of our nature, just as we’re part of nature.

Now, I’m a biologist by training, and am also one of those people who (as my father disapprovingly said (manymanymany times), “have your head in the clouds!” (Like this was a _bad_ thing…) Yep. Also on the ground.

Rocks come and find me, and it’s rare for me to come home from a walk _without_ a rock in my pocket. So a few days ago, I was walking with Lucy the dachshund, to whom “walk” means “sniff everything in sight, pausing occasionally to pee on it”, and as usual, glancing over the ground we were walking on, which—being a desert front yard in Scottsdale, was mostly crushed granite. But in the midst of this layer of pinkish rock was the little gray visitor you see in the photo above.

This is a tiny survivor of a volcanic explosion that took place many miles away. Plainly, it’s a rock—but one that’s been through Stuff. It’s been melted by the heat of the Earth’s core, and blown far abroad, with those little holes the scars left by the violent gasses that propelled it.

What could be less peaceful?

And yet, there it is. Basking in the sun, resting among strangers.

No matter what’s happened to it, it remains what it is. It carries peace, because peace is its nature—as it is ours. Wait, and listen for the peace that lives within you to whisper your name.

Merry Christmas!

EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

William washed his face—it was thick with stubble, but no point in trying to shave without mirror or soap—and made his way downstairs.

The smell of food reached him at the top of the stairs and drew him down like a mosquito scenting blood, single-minded in his voracity. And a good thing, too, he realized as he entered the kitchen. He was so hungry that he’d suffered no hesitations regarding his welcome.

In fact, while everyone at table turned to look at him, all the faces bore smiles, whether shy or broad, and he bowed to them, smiling back.

“Good morning,” he said, and the smallest girl—Amanda, that was her name—giggled and pointed her spoon at him.

“Your beard looks like Grand-da’s!”

A ripple of stifled amusement ran round the table, but before he could think of something to say, Mother Claire rose and took him by the sleeve, showing him to a place on the bench beside Frances, who looked up at him demurely.

“I hope you thl-slept well?” she said. Her cheeks were pink, but she met his eyes straight on, and he felt a slight jolt; her eyes were very much like Jane’s.

“Immensely well, I thank you,” he assured her. A trencher appeared before him, piled with toast and bacon, and Amanda’s brother—James? No, Jeremiah, Jem, that was it, a tall, red-haired boy, thin as an oak sapling—shoved a pot of strawberry jam across the table.

“What do we call him?” the boy asked, turning to his grandfather. “Uncle Billy?”

William choked slightly on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. Frances, Claire, and the three little girls _all_ giggled, and he thought Fraser might have done as well, were he capable of making such a sound. As it was, Fraser kept a relatively straight face, and replied, “Not unless he asks ye to. ‘Til then, ye can call him Mr. Ransom, aye?”

William cleared his throat.

“You may call me William for the present, if you like,” he said to Jem. “I haven’t had a great deal of practice in being an uncle, as yet.”

“Don’t pester your uncle,” Mother Claire said, setting down a dish of succulent, glistening sausages, smelling of sage and onion, in front of William. “Let him eat.”

He ate like a ravening wolf, listening to the conversation with one ear, but making no effort to join it. His cup was filled—and refilled—with the very good beer, and he finished the meal replete—well, stuffed like a goose—and wondering whether he might go find a tree to sleep under for a bit.

“I’ll be goin’ to and fro on the Ridge today, fettling my tenants,” Fraser told him, brushing crumbs off his lap. He handed a fragment of toast to the big bluetick bitch who had been waiting patiently by his feet, and rose. “D’ye want to come with me?”

“I—yes. I suppose so,” William replied, taken aback at the invitation. He remembered Mac the groom saying “fettled,” with regard to grooming and feeding horses, but he supposed that Fraser merely meant that he proposed to tell his tenants that he would be gone for some time, and arrange for payment of rents to some factor.

Fraser nodded.

“Aye, good. I’ll say you’re my son, though most of them will ken it already, after yesterday.” He cocked a brow in question. Was that agreeable to William?

That made his full stomach drop another inch or two, but he nodded back.

“Of course. May I take time to shave?”

“Aye. Use the soap and basin in my room. It’s the one in front, on the left as ye go up.”

The room was large and pleasant, the window opened for air, but screened with muslin to keep insects out, and the diffused light gave the room a pleasant, quiet feel, like being inside a cloud, despite the muffled racket from the kitchen below. William found himself breathing shallowly, aware of the unfamiliar, intimate scent of the room. The bed had not yet been made, and while the thrown-back sheets were clean, they held the faint, disturbing musk of recent bodies.

If the intimacy of the Frasers’ bedroom was disturbing, the intimacy of using Mr. Fraser’s shaving soap was more so. It was soft, white Castile soap, and smelled of olive-oil, but also of basil and what he thought was marjoram, and…could that possibly be geranium-leaf? He hadn’t seen or smelt a geranium plant since he left England, and it gave him a brief sense of dislocation, a vivid sense of his Aunt Minnie’s conservatory, redolent with foreign flowers and writhing exotic greenery.

The thought made him feel more settled in himself. No matter what the future held, he still had both a past and a present, and those must be sufficient to keep him in countenance for what might come.

Refreshed and clean-shaven, he came downstairs, ready to see exactly what “fettling” might involve.

Oggi è la quarta (e ultima) domenica di Avvento. L'attesa è quasi finita, ma l'attesa è ancora da godere. L'ultima candela (dato che abbiamo usato le altre etichette) è Peace.

La pace è una di quelle cose che non puoi davvero definire (non che la gente non lo faccia, ma, come l'amore, ha profondità e sfaccettature scintillanti di significato), ma la conosci quando la incontri. Da qui la citazione biblica, "La pace che passa la comprensione".

La pace spesso arriva e ti trova in mezzo alle cose (come renderti conto che stai partendo per il viaggio in un'altra città per Natale tra due ore, e non hai ancora incartato i regali che devi lasciare da FedEx sulla strada...), e spesso non ci rendiamo conto che questo accade perché portiamo la pace con noi, tutto il tempo.

La pace fa parte della nostra natura, proprio come noi facciamo parte della natura.

Ora, sono un biologo di formazione, e sono anche una di quelle persone che (come ha detto mio padre con disapprovazione (molte molte molte volte), "tai la testa tra le nuvole!" (Come se questa fosse una cosa _brutta_...) Sì. Anche a terra.

Le rocce vengono a trovarmi, ed è raro per me tornare a casa da una passeggiata _senza_ una pietra in tasca. Quindi qualche giorno fa, stavo camminando con Lucy il bassotto, per la quale "camminare" significa "annusare tutto ciò che è in vista, fermandosi di tanto in tanto per fare pipì sopra", e come al solito, guardando il terreno su cui stavamo camminando, che, essendo un cortile del deserto a Scottsdale, era per lo più di granito schiacciato. Ma nel mezzo di questo strato di roccia rosata c'era il piccolo visitatore grigio che vedi nella foto sopra.

Questo è un piccolo sopravvissuto a un'esplosione vulcanica che ha avuto luogo a molte miglia di distanza. Chiaramente, è una roccia, ma una che è stata attraverso Stuff. È stato fuso dal calore del nucleo della Terra, e soffiato lontano all'estero, con quei piccoli buchi le cicatrici lasciate dai gas violenti che lo hanno spinto.

Cosa potrebbe essere meno pacifico?

Eppure, eccolo lì. Crogiolarsi al sole, riposare in mezzo agli estranei.

Non importa cosa gli sia successo, rimane quello che è. Porta la pace, perché la pace è la sua natura, come è nostra. Aspetta e ascolta la pace che vive dentro di te per sussurrare il tuo nome.

Buon Natale!

Estratto non indedito dal Libro Dieci (Senza titolo), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

Traduzione a cura di

Rilasciato sulla pagina fb di diana per la QUARTA DOMENICA di AVVENTO

William si lavò il viso - la barba era folta , ma non aveva senso cercare di radersi senza specchio o sapone - e si diresse al piano di sotto.

L'odore del cibo lo raggiunse in cima alle scale e lo attirò verso il basso come una zanzara che fiuta il sangue, con la sua voracità. E fu un bene, se ne rese conto entrando in cucina.

Era così affamato che non ebbe nessuna remora riguardo alla sua accoglienza.

Infatti, mentre tutti i commensali si voltavano a guardarlo, su ciascun volto compariva un sorriso, timido o ampio che fosse, ed egli si inchinò a loro, ricambiando il sorriso.

"Buongiorno", disse, e la bambina più piccola, Amanda, questo era il suo nome, fece una smorfia e lo indicò con il cucchiaio.

"La tua barba assomiglia a quella del nonno!".

Un'ondata di divertimento soffocato fece il giro del tavolo, ma prima che potesse pensare a qualcosa da dire, Madre Claire si alzò e lo prese per la manica, indicandogli un posto sulla panca accanto a Frances, che lo guardò pudicamente.

"Spero che tu abbia dormito bene", disse. Le sue guance erano rosa, ma lo guardò dritto negli occhi e lui provò un leggero sussulto: i suoi occhi erano molto simili a quelli di Jane.

"Immensamente bene, grazie", le assicurò. Davanti a lui apparve una teglia, piena di pane tostato e pancetta, e il fratello di Amanda, James? No, Jeremiah, Jem, ecco, un ragazzo alto, dai capelli rossi, magro come un alberello di quercia, spinse sul tavolo un vasetto di marmellata di fragole.

"Come dobbiamo chiamarlo?", chiese il ragazzo rivolgendosi al nonno. "Zio Billy?"

William quasi soffocò con il sorso di birra che aveva appena bevuto. Frances, Claire e le tre bambine ridacchiarono tutte e pensò che anche Fraser avrebbe potuto farlo, se fosse stato capace di emettere un suono simile. Invece Fraser mantenne una faccia relativamente seria e rispose: "No, a meno che non te lo chieda lui. Fino ad allora, potete chiamarlo signor Ransom, d'accordo?".

William si schiarì la gola.

"Per ora potete chiamarmi William, se volete", disse a Jem. "Non ho ancora fatto molta pratica nel fare lo zio".

"Non infastidire tuo zio", disse Madre Claire, mettendo davanti a William un piatto di salsicce succulente e luccicanti, che profumavano di salvia e cipolla. "Lascialo mangiare".

William mangiò come un lupo famelico, ascoltando la conversazione con un orecchio, ma senza fare alcuno sforzo per unirvisi . Il suo bicchiere fu riempito - e riempito di nuovo - con dell'ottima birra, ed egli finì il pasto sazio - anzi, ripieno come un'oca - chiedendosi se poteva andare a cercare un albero sotto cui dormire per un po'.

"Oggi andrò in giro per il Ridge a "sistemare" i miei fittavolii", gli disse Fraser, spazzolandosi le briciole dalle ginocchia. Passò un pezzo di pane tostato al grosso cane bluetick che aspettava pazientemente ai suoi piedi e si alzò. "Vuoi venire con me?".

"Sì. Suppongo di sì", rispose William, colto di sorpresa dall'invito. Ricordava che Mac lo stalliere diceva "fettled/sistemare", riferendosi alla strigliatura e al nutrimento dei cavalli, ma immaginò che Fraser volesse semplicemente dire ai suoi affittuari che sarebbe stato via per qualche tempo, e organizzare il pagamento degli affitti a qualche fattore.

Fraser annuì.

"Sì, bene. Dirò che sei mio figlio, anche se la maggior parte di loro lo saprà già, dopo ieri". Aggrottò un sopracciglio in segno di domanda. William era d'accordo?

Questo gli fece stringere lo stomaco pieno di un altro paio di centimetri, ma annuì.

"Certo. Posso avere il tempo di radermi?".

"Sì. Usa il sapone e la bacinella nella mia stanza. È quella di fronte, sulla sinistra salendo".

La stanza era ampia e piacevole, la finestra si apriva per l'aria, ma era schermata con una mussola per tenere lontani gli insetti, e la luce diffusa dava alla stanza una sensazione piacevole e tranquilla, come se ci si trovasse all'interno di una nuvola, nonostante il frastuono ovattato proveniente della cucina sottostante.

William si ritrovò a respirare superficialmente, consapevole dell'odore intimo e sconosciuto della stanza. Il letto non era ancora stato rifatto e, sebbene le lenzuola gettate all'indietro fossero pulite, contenevano un lieve odore persistente di corpi .

Se l'intimità della camera da letto dei Fraser era inquietante, l'intimità dell'uso del sapone da barba di mr Fraser lo era ancora di più. Era un sapone di Castiglia bianco e morbido, che profumava di olio d'oliva, ma anche di coriandolo e di quella che pensava fosse maggiorana, e... poteva forse trattarsi di foglie di geranio? Non aveva più visto né annusato una pianta di geranio da quando aveva lasciato l'Inghilterra, e questo gli diede un breve senso di dislocazione, una vivida sensazione del giardino d'inverno di sua zia Minnie, profumato di fiori stranieri e di una contorta vegetazione esotica.

Il pensiero lo fece sentire più stabile. Non importava cosa gli riservasse il futuro, aveva ancora sia un passato che un presente, e questi dovevano essere sufficienti a fargli mantenere la calma interiore di fronte a ciò che sarebbe potuto accadere.

Rinfrescato e ben rasato, scese le scale, pronto a vedere cosa esattamente implicava questo “sistemare”.

[alpineshift]

okay, I have no idea how coherent this is going to be, so bear with me, but here are my thoughts on jealous!Jack...

first and foremost, we must set the scene. I think my favorite thing about Devils games is that Nico is always finding himself in a situation. This is really due to the fact that he's always net front, always going into the dirty spaces, always in the midst of puck battles, and isn't afraid to use his skating ability to outsmart an opponent.

I'm thinking specifically of these moments: Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C.

and I'm just imagining Jack either on the ice or on the bench watching things like this happen all game, every game. Like Nico's a one man charm offensive right and he doesn't this turn this charm off on the ice or off the ice, and so Jack day in, day out, is not only seeing his own teammates fall all over themselves trying to impress Nico or get a head pat from Nico, but the media who are also a little bit in love with him, and now also dudes from other teams.

and you add this to Jack's mile long praise kink, and you get Jack being Jack and then all of his cellies especially from the 2022-2023 season involve him making sure to get his hugs/pats/praise/love from Nico. he loves that attention and he wants to make sure everyone out there knows that although Nico may be a charm machine, its Jack who Nico belongs to and vice versa.

casual possessive hand on Nico's number, skipping the celly line to go straight to Nico and then getting cockblocked by Colin Miller, casual possessive bear paws around Nico in the singles corner of a team photo, scooching across the bench to get his head pats

just love the idea of like Jack needing to balance the fact that he knows Nico is the Captain and he knows Nico needs to make time for all of the Devs boys, but Jack also wants his Nico all to himself.

and Nico always indulges him. every time Jack uses his stick to get Nico's attention, on the bench, during a celly, during a conference before a face off, after a game, any time Jack wants Nico's attention, Nico will always give it. its a symbiotic relationship.

but basically, everyone's a little bit in love with Nico right. like look at him. and look at how everyone in the league interacts with him. everyone's definitely a little in love with Nico, and Jack knows Nico only has eyes for him, but it does drive him a little bit bat shit that all of these people are constantly getting put under a spell by Nico's dimples and his cow eyes.

there's also this silly little headcanon I had back when Timo first joined the team last season about how Jack maybe felt a type of way about another guy joining the team that Nico has history/shared life experience with. maybe Jack decides to learn Swiss for like five minutes to try to understand what Timo and Nico are laughing about in Swiss German all the time.

I dunno, there's a lot going on in my noggin about this. its my absolute favorite because like Jack was THE boy at the USNTDP and everyone kind of circles around him and he's a first overall and on the Devils, the team, the media, the narratives circle around him. and you put that together with the magnetic pull of one Nico Hischier and oh boy whats Jack's brain doing now huh?

this is getting far too long, so I'm gonna just shut up now, very sorry for like word vomiting in your ask box, ahahaha!

trust me I have SO many thoughts about this. so many.

the way I am CHOWING DOWN on this...help me...I literally went and made myself a tea so I could tuck in and unspool your ask in its full glory. THANK YOU. this is my jealous jack bible now LOL

reading this has made me realize Nico is basically a capybara LOL. chill, cute, friend shaped, minds his own biz, universally beloved and makes buddies across all animal kingdoms. none of us are immune to the Nico CharmTM, least of all hockey players, least of all jack hughes. that backhug picture of them from the team gathering gets me every time. I love to see it.

the layers are there and they are so endearing. I'm living for your Timo headcanon bc I recently had the experience of seeing a Timo pic on the devil's social media and went "oh whoa holy shit he's good looking" so I can project this feeling onto Jack, who's torn between wow he's good looking to him and nico are real close and idk how to feel about that levels of internal conflict. meanwhile those two are just gabbing on about absolutely nothing of importance hfnshffn.

I love that you shared all this with me!! thank you!! I too can go on for days daydreaming of the lore and the webs and the intricacies!! come back whenever you want and leave more charming nuggets in my inbox ❤️

[noisyquokka]

Banshees In The Night

PAIRING - Felix x Jisung x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - Haunted houses can be quite the hoot... if you know what you're getting yourself into...

WORDCOUNT - 4.2k

WARNINGS - Established friend-group, a bit of rural exploration, Mild Language, Humor, Mentions of insects/untidy surroundings, Mentions of murder (for the lore of the "haunted" location), no one comes prepared || Let me know if I've missed any warnings!

A/N - Spooky season is upon us and I'm so excited to write some horror and October-themed fics! This one was a first attempt at more descriptive writing and for my first time, I'm pretty proud. And the edit was a little last minute thing I did. Dunno why I did it, but it was fun!! Let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always appreciated!

"Nope! No fucking way!"

"Oh, c'mon." Felix rolls his eyes, pointing at the laptop screen. "Look, it says here the property is fenced in and secure. No big deal!"

You crane your neck so far that you look like a heron fishing on the bay. Jisung snickers beside you, taking a swig of his energy drink. No big deal, he says...

It was just a few days ago when the three of you were talking about exploring a supposed haunted house on Halloween night. You had agreed to this as a joke, but knowing these two, you should've seen this coming. It wasn't a surprise to you when Felix had called earlier, asking if you and Jisung were home and brought himself over. Turns out he'd been doing some research on the haunted locales around town and, much to your dismay, was now trying to persuade you into a night of absolutely no rest at one of the "most haunted houses in the area". You aren't having it.

"You do realize that Halloween is the worst time to do this?" You say, pacing around the living room. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the boys share a glance. They know where this is going. Jisung takes a breath and leans forward, snatching your laptop off the coffee table.

"I seriously see nothing wrong with this..." Felix mutters, resting his forearms on the back of the couch as Jisung moves the cursor across the screen, tapping on the album of photos that's attached to the article with curious eyes. "It's just an old, abandoned house. No one lives there."

The first photo pops up, an older one taken circa 1934. Back then, the farmhouse stood in the midst of the prairie fields, newly erected, the original owners standing before it with pride. It had belonged to a family of six; husband and wife standing at the top of the wrap-around porch while their four children stand on the descending steps. Oldest to youngest, it seemed, their clothes wrinkled from probable horsing about prior to this photo being taken. The farmhouse itself was classic and elegant in design, with its whitewashed clapboard of the time framing the tall, single-sashed windows. The pine bannister lines the edge of the porch until it wrapped out of sight.

"You can't be serious." You mutter, shaking your head as you watch Jisung flip through the album. The house erodes away with every single picture, the hairs on your arms standing at attention. You catch the quirk of Jisung's lips as you turn away.

"What if we spent the entire night?"

He's joking, you can tell just by the tone of his voice, and soon after, he's chuckling. But Felix's eyes widen with a rare excitement. He claps his hands together, reeling back from the sofa and pointing an index finger at his friend.

"That is a great idea!"

"NO, FELIX!"

You're glaring before he's even looking at you. There's a crazy glint in those eyes, something like adrenaline that rushes his veins at the thought of a whole night at such a location. These boys would be the death of you...

"Halloween is the time of year when the v-"

"The veil between worlds is at its thinnest," Felix interrupts in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes, "I think you're watching way too many supernatural movies. None of it's real!"

You turn your head to him, shooting him a look that you're sure could cut if it physically manifested. Maybe it wasn't real. Maybe it was. You sure as hell didn't feel like being the one to find out. In fact, you would much rather spend your Halloween night right here at home, curled up with a blanket and a horror movie marathon.

You lick your lips, setting your gaze back on the computer screen. Felix paced around leisurely, listening as Jisung reads aloud the info on the house's history. Your ears pick up Jisung's voice, vowels that evolve into syllables until they craft into a whole story, but nothing computes.

"English decent...hard-working values... two of four children homeschooled.... ongoing Infedelity... wife took the hatchet from the barn.... murdered her husband... three of the kids... eldest daughter survived by escaping through the second story window... wife was never seen again..."

You stand there with a jittering foot, Jisung's voice fading in and out in a garbled buzz. The words slowly sink in, the air charged with tension. Your eyes drift back to the album. The youngest daughter's expression is unmistakable as she stares straight at the camera, her gaze cold and piercing as a dagger's point.

"Are you serious?" Felix stares at the photo with wide eyes, his lips parted in astonishment before he bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, this house would be amazing to explore on Halloween, are you kidding!?"

You're still in shock. A lump in your throat. Your eyes locked on those pixels that stare back. Dead eyes. Your mind races.

Was it just a rumor? A ghost story spun by bored residents at the time?

Something tells you otherwise.

"Says here it's been vacant since 1998. The last family to live there did some renovations but reportedly left shortly after."

"You're joking, now." You shift your attention to your roommate sitting on the couch, tilting your head with a pointed look. Jisung's gaze finds your pinned pupils for a split second, only to go back to his scrolling without another word. "Tell me you're joking."

Felix's laugh actually triggers you, your fists clenching until your fingernails are leaving indents on your palms. He rounds the sofa to sit beside Jisung, eyes darting across the laptop screen.

"Come on, it'll be fun! Imagine what cool trinkets might be in that house."

"That fucking house has been vacant for TWENTY-FIVE YEARS! Murder is bad enough, but to top it off, the last people renovated only to leave without selling it?" You turn to Jisung again, "Is that on the record? The last owners didn't sell it after reno?"

Jisung searches the paragraph again, double checking what he'd read.

"Yep, they bought it in 1991, made some renovations, but never sold it. They just left."

Felix groans in response, rolling his eyes as he leans into the elder boy's side to get a closer look. Jisung continues his scrolling through the website, searching for any other news stories on the property. Another Google search only returns regurgitated legends of the original family, all with different endings. More dead ends eventually lead to Jisung closing the tab and leaning back into the couch cushions.

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't feel good about it, Lix. I'm out!"

"Are you serious? It's a fucking house and some old ghost stories."

"And I'm not about to fuck around at a murder sight on Halloween with you two imbeciles! I'll go literally anywhere else on Halloween night, a fucking party if you so insist."

"A party?" Felix scoffs, "That's boring and you know it. Don't you wanna have an adventurous Halloween?"

"I don't want to get haunted or arrested. You will not persuade me into following you along like a lost puppy to some haunted farmhouse!"

—

"I can't believe you talked me into this shit..."

You're stuffing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, glancing around the dying overgrowth of the wooded area you three currently travel through. Despite everything you'd said two weeks ago, here you stand.

"It'll be fine. They say no one has been seen in or around the house for years! And besides, all those reports of paranormal activity were probably made up for the sake of scaring kids." Jisung says. The flashlight in his hand dips, the LEDs trailing off between tree trunks and the darkness of the woods, dancing from one spot to another as he follows behind Felix. The moon beams an eerie glow from high in the sky, most of the trees barren so late in October, casting shadows that twist and distort against the rustling leaves. It's full tonight, unfortunate for your anxious little mind. Your eyes are already playing tricks on you in the dark of night, shadows peeking their heads out from behind the earthen bark.

"Oh ho hoo, you didn't say that last week, bro!" Felix's voice echoes, looking down at his mobile device to keep the group on track. "That's even more perfect. We'll be the first to explore it in over two decades!" He's practically shaking with excitement, though you're completely numb at this point. And not from the October chill.

Your fingers twitch in their confines, your breath forming in puffs of ghostly clouds in the night. The trees loom over your head like guardians, gangly limbs reaching out to scrape and pull at your hair and hoodie. Others lean against their brethren, uprooted by the anger of storms, their battering of wind and rain. Still, some of them fight for survival, their strong roots piercing deeper into the Earth's soil. You press on through the foliage, the silence of the forest only broken by the muffled sound of your best friends' conversation fading.

"When all this is said and done, you're doing the dishes for two weeks." You say, glaring at Jisung's back.

"I feel like all that hostility in your voice is so uncalled for. I haven't done anything."

You chuckle bitterly, staggering over tree roots that breached the surface of the soil.

"You're right! You haven't made one objection to this stupid idea since Felix brought it up. And to top it off, all that research you did on my laptop? Yeah, I'm now the victim of true crime news stories from the early 1900s."

"Don't you clear your search history every night?" He asks.

"Don't you have your own laptop?" You counter, watching him slow his pace and huff. Part of you feels a little guilty for being so harsh. You know the boys love doing stupid shit; Halloween or otherwise. But after all was said and done, you just didn't feel good about this little trip. Felix turns back to you two, the light of his phone illuminating his face.

"Oh lighten up, Spitfire! For all we know the stories are a load of crap. We're already this far, right? No point in backtracking now. It'd be a shame not to check it out."

"The real shame is the classic horror movies I rented for us that are just sitting on the damn coffee table back home." You grumble, your eyes darting over your shoulder. Jisung snickers ahead, cooing at you.

"Awww, are you disappointed we aren't sitting on the couch, lights off, snuggled under a blanket together?" He teases, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Felix chuckles and keeps walking, looking down every few moments to the GPS on his phone. As you trek further, your spine tingles with electricity. The air in this heavily wooded area seems dead, the feeling of being watched growing like mold spores beneath the leaf litter. It's as if something is lurking just out of sight, just beyond the shadows.

"We've spent almost half an hour in these woods," Felix's words ring out in the darkness, and you realize in your moment of weakness, you'd stopped walking. "If you wanna give up and run home, that's your business. I wanna see this through."

Your feet move again, quickly catching up to your friends with heavy breaths. This place gives you the creeps and you haven't even gotten to the house yet.

"Besides, it's just a few minutes ahead. Look, there." Felix smiles as he points up ahead, the old farmhouse rising out of the dark ocean of those tall prairie grasses. Your eyes are drawn upwards to the thinning canopy of the trees above, mind racing with the possibilities of what you may encounter. And still, you follow behind the boys.

"Have you considered the idea that we might not be the only ones out here?" Your question is accompanied by a hollowness in your throat as you all wade through the overgrown field; invasive Johnson grass swaying with the wind.

"Jason Voorhees isn't gonna pop out and welcome us to the house, if that's what you're asking."

"Funny... I'm talking about real threats, Felix."

"Technically, Jason doesn't live in the woods..." Jisung says. Felix stops walking, turning his attention fully onto his friend.

"Yes, he does."

"No, he doesn't." Jisung replies, and now you've all stopped walking.

"Yes, he does."

"The guy spends half his slasher life slashing around a lake house!"

"At a summer camp in the woods!"

"Near a lake! Boom! Mic drop. I'll humbly take this win, thank you."

"You haven't won shit, it's in the wo-"

"Will the two of you please shut up!" You hiss, eyes darting around the open field. Your feet are shuffling beneath you, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. You look off to that creepy looking house, shaking your head. "It's too fucking quiet to be raising your voices out here, and frankly, I'm already pissing myself without the help of you two talking about some slasher in the woods!"

"Slasher in the woods, see." Felix gestures to you, shooting Jisung a grin. That's what he picked up from your little anxiety-ridden rant? He turns on his heels, the gravel drive just a little bit further. It snakes through the field like a serpent, winding its way up to the old farmhouse. Jisung starts walking ahead, but you don't miss the sound of him mocking Felix's snide remark. You sigh heavily, shaking your head and following close behind.

The gravel crunches under three sets of shoes, the pebbles shifting with every hurried step. You can see the entrance from here with the help of Jisung's light; the dark shadow of a door. You swear there's nothing keeping nature out. The windows are boarded up, the sheets of plywood slowly eaten away by termites and other wood borers over some time. It's bare bones, the exterior of the building left to rot and be reclaimed by the surrounding nature. Somewhere nearby, an owl claims the woodlands with its haunting song.

"That's it?" Felix's tone is drenched in disappointment. His eyes dart back and forth with the crappy light of his cell phone over the Tim Burton-esque husk.

"Why the fuck do you sound disappointed? This house is terrifying!" Your eyes scan the surrounding property, and something dawns on you. "There's also no signs of a secure fence anywhere, like it was stated in the article."

Felix shrugs, his phone's light scanning over your form. "Must've been an older article, then. But it doesn't look that bad."

It looks far larger than it did in the photos online, although you admit it's seen better days. You have yet to notice anything that looks different to the original photos, even if it is crumbling and peeling. Perhaps it was an interior renovation? Jisung's light washes over the building from the porch to the second-story windows, the rickety bannister casting shadows along the disintegrating clapboard. Your blood prickles at the realization that the door was indeed gone, phantom arms reaching out from the depths. It lays on the floor of the main hall, a victim of someone's full-bodied force. The air shifts, it seems. An oppressive static energy that stabs you in the lungs. You swallow, eyes drifting to Felix's shadow a few feet ahead.

"This feels like a terrible idea, Lix. Can we just please go back to mine and Jisung's place?" You're pleading now.

"Come on, it's just a house. There's nothing to be freaked out about," Felix calls from over his shoulder. He's already pressing onward, taking careful steps up the steep and rotting wood stairs of the porch like a sacrifice to the dark maw of this structure. "This is gonna be fun! Can't believe you're backing out after all the build-up."

You try to ignore the anxiety festering in your chest, your stomach. The smell of moisture from the tall grass surrounding you creeps up your nostrils. The place is making your skin crawl. You glance to Jisung, whose expression is a tad cautious now. His eyes dart to you, and in the light of the moon, you swear you can see some concern etching his face. He doesn't speak, just shakes his head and starts toward the entrance. You follow; two more sacrifices to appease whatever horrors lay dormant inside.

The porch groans with every step you and Jisung take, like the wooden boards were protesting you being here. He takes the lead and you aren't about to argue that one, pulling your phone out and turning the flash on with a twitching finger.

"Can't believe we're dumb enough to be walking into the live-action Monster House." You grumble, careful with your foot placement. You step over the door with Jisung's help, covering your nose with your hoodie sleeve.

"Hey, it's not that bad." Jisung says, scanning around for Felix. "We can't leave him here alone."

You scoff.

"One sign of a serial killer or a cult, and I'm sacrificing his Sunshine ass!"

Your fingers flex around your cell phone as you shine it down the main hall. The place looks like it's been ransacked, abandoned furniture turned on its side and litter piled up in corners, scattered across the floor with the help of the winds that seep through the old boards. To the right is the kitchen, simple and small. The cupboards are new, though considerably outdated in present day; old hickory covered in a thick layer of dust and peeled paint. You shine the light up to the weakened ceiling. The plaster has warped, bubbled, and sagged, brown blotches taking over a once pristine eggshell white. You don't like the black growth in the farthest corner where part of the ceiling has fallen, and you're telling Jisung to cover his face before he goes any further.

"Felix! Cover your mouth and hurry up, there's black mold in here!" You raise your voice slightly, but you don't get a response back. Jisung turns to you with a roll of his eyes.

"He's probably hiding somewhere to scare us." He says, heading down the hall. His light shines down the main hall, illuminating dust particles that have been roused with the help of the Aussie that's already exploring around somewhere.

There's a large web that sprawls over the eaten doorframe of the living room to the left, a large orb weaver sitting pretty in the middle of her silken cemetery. You blink at the many insect carcasses she'd captured, no need for further convincing that that room is off limits. You move forward, scanning the other rooms with little interest, but just enough to notice that a few of the house's back windows haven't been boarded up. Or perhaps the plywood has weathered away. The moon light shines through those windows, and you jump at the sight of a field mouse scuttering across the floor, squeaking at your intrusion.

You jump again at the thump of two feet on the landing of the stairs. A flash of cellular light and black boots. 

"There's nothing here," Felix says, glancing back through the rickety bannister to the shanty rooms. His light blinds you momentarily.

"You are an idiot!" You release the breath you're holding, glaring at the cracks in the wooden staircase. "Those stairs look about ready to give out under you, get down here!"

Felix rolls his eyes at your scolding, but does as he's told, skipping down the last few steps. He stops on the third one down, a chuckle leaving him.

"I'm telling you, whatever's in this house is just fake stories made up by bored locals. Now-"

Felix's words are interrupted by a loud crash that rattles your bones. Spikes your pulse. You both jump at the sudden noise, Felix almost drops his phone as he turns to look for the source of the sound. It echoes from the kitchen, something like the lid of a stainless steel pot ringing, reverberating over the wood as it dances on its rim. Your throat swallows itself, strangled by an all-encompassing fear. A phantom hand grips your left shoulder. You startle, reeling your elbow up and back.

"Easy, easy!" A familiar voice says, shadow ducking out of the way to save him an elbow to the throat, "It's just me!" Jisung. His voice hushed as his wide eyes glance toward the exit. Toward the noise. You sigh in the slightest relief, because while all three of you have been accounted for, you now know that the noise is someone or something else entirely. The rim stops its dancing on a dime before anyone can speak, like a spinning coin that someone stops with the smack of a hand. All is quiet, only the sound of wind through rotting window frames and the shallowest breaths from three spooked youngins.

"What the hell was that?" Felix is the one to ask, and you're almost surprised to hear his voice shake in the back of his throat. Jisung shakes his head behind you, a small frown creasing his brows. Brown eyes stick to the doorway, waiting for... fuck, you don't know what you're all waiting for.

"We need to lea-"

BANG!!

Something metallic flashes in your peripherals and you can't stop the shriek you let out, bringing a hand up to your mouth. The weapon of choice lays in the middle of the door; a pan lid that rolls around on its handle, a dull rattling on hollowed wood. You all stand still, each of you paralyzed with fear. The loud bang against the wall gives you enough of a jolt to break the silence.

"Now! We need to leave now!" You hiss. "And I'm not taking one step towards that door, so what is our game plan?"

"Finding another way out?" Jisung suggests, his eyes burning a hole through the kitchen's doorframe. Felix shakes his head.

"There's no other exit. All the windows are boarded up upstairs." He whispers.

"Are you serious?" You can't stop the shakiness in your tone, your nerves getting the better of you in this moment of weakness. Whatever the fuck is in that kitchen isn't happy to have guests, and your only way out is past that doorway? You may as well have dug your own graves.

Another flash of movement, something tiny thrown into the adjacent living room. The object vibrates the silk strings of the spider's web and its inhabitant jolts, unsure whether or not to stay in the relative safety of her space or to take shelter elsewhere.

The loud thumping noise returns, this time from upstairs... scratching, clawing, pounding. The floorboards creaking loudly as something large scrapes back and forth across the surface. They keep getting louder, whatever is in here is only getting angrier. Another sharp bang against the wooden walls.

"Fuck!"

"Run!" Felix yells, and he's already clambering down the last few stairs, bolting for the door. "Just run!"

Jisung grabs your hand before you can protest, and the both of you dash through the open maw of the house with pounding hearts and trembling fingers. You take the moisture-laden air into your lungs, squeezing your roommate's hand to ground yourself. Everything is fine. Jisung is doing the same, hunched over with his free hand on his knee.

"What the fuck was that?" Felix asks, shining his phone back towards the house. He's panting too, his confidence completely snuffed out by the weird shit he's just witnessed.

"I don't know, I didn't see anything." Jisung pants as he struggles to catch his breath. He turns to face you as the sound of something falling to the floor is heard from the living room.

"Do we go back in there?" Felix asks, wide eyes on the entrance to the house. The light from Jisung's flashlight cuts through the darkness in patches, moving with every swing of his arm.

"Are you seriously asking if we should go back in there?" Jisung asks. For the first time tonight, you're both on the same wavelength. How Felix could want to go back inside after all of that, you don't understand. Perhaps it's the shock? Or he's got a death wish.

You don't have the chance to consider the choices because your ears perk at the sound of what you could only describe as killer clown laughter, just inside the doorway. A grunt. Growling. More laughter. It leaves your spine ram-rod straight, the hairs on your body all standing on end.

Oh, fuck this!

Now that you're outside, you see no reason to stand here and twiddle your thumbs. You're gripping Jisung's hand like he's your lifeline and bolting for the trees. Back the way you all came. It seems Felix has finally come to his senses as well, breaking into a full sprint down the driveway as he screams for you two not to leave him behind. The house recedes quickly into the distance with no one even bothering to look back to see if you're being followed. All you know is that running for your life is better than death by hatchet or crazy killer clown cults. The three of you don't stop until you're back to the main road and in your car.

Beady eyes peak around the door frame as all three book it, a mask over those eyes to hide their identity. Another head pops out, and a third. All masked up and chittering away as they amble onto the porch, munching on junk food that had been left behind by other explorers. 

Raccoons. 

The furbearers climb down the steps one-by-one, almost cackling on their way as the trio of two-leggeds scream into the night.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[schrijverr]

A Behind the Scenes of: Eddie and Steve's Wedding

Together with Eddie and Steve themselves, Jonathan takes a look at their unlawful wedding from 1992.

On AO3.

Ships: Steddie (and other background)

Warnings: homophobia mention

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, I’m Jonathan Byers, the main photographer and editor of A Collection of Queer Photography. And today Eddie and Steve are with me to look at their illegal wedding in ‘92,” Jonathan starts the video.

“Hellu everybody,” Eddie grins happily into the camera, keeping up the energy he had in the video about Corroded Coffin.

“Hi,” Steve greets a little more reserved. He has his glasses on and a soft sweater, while his hair is still perfectly styled. There are laugh lines around his eyes as well as a few wrinkles on his forehead.

Steve now has his own mic, but that doesn’t stop him and Eddie from being pressed so close together that they could have shared one.

“The wedding is from page 130 to 137,” Jonathan says. “The way we built it up when putting it in was starting with the moment before the ceremony, then the wedding itself, then the after wedding nice pictures, before ending with the after wedding party.”

“And boy did we party,” Eddie grins.

“Of course we did,” Steve comments a little bitchily. “It was our wedding. We’re not going to have a boring wedding.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes fondly at the couple as he flips open the book and says: “Page 130 has Pre-Wedding Jitters on it, taken, of course, in 1992.”

The photo is of Eddie and Wayne. They’re both in suits and Eddie is fidgeting nervously with the cuff link, while Wayne is straightening Eddie’s tie. He looks like he’s in the midst of an anxious rant to Wayne, who is attempting to soothe him. They both have a flower pinned to their lapel as well as one stuck in Eddie’s ponytail.

Almost in sync, Eddie and Steve lean over to see the photo. Eddie blushes while Steve melts and comments: “Ahw you were so cute in your little suit with Wayne.”

Eddie’s smile turns a little wistful at the mention of his uncle and he says: “He’s the reason my tie was on right. I- I still don’t know how to do it. He always used to and now Stevie here does.”

Steve hugs him tightly leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder for a second, before easing up again after he promises that he’ll always be here to do it. Eddie leans back into him and says: “You better, big boy.”

“It’s such a sweet moment,” Jonathan agrees with them. “I’m really happy I caught it. I also think it’s really funny and says a lot about the two of you that Eddie was anxiously ranting while Wayne fiddled with his outfit, while Steve was fiddling with his outfit while being ranted at in Big Day Pep-Talk on the other page here.”

Big Day Pep-Talk appears on screen. It is of Steve and Robin on it. They are also both dressed in suits with flowers pinned to them. Steve is wiping imaginary dust of his front, while Robin has both her hands on his shoulders and looks at him intently. She is talking to Steve, who is seemingly nodding along, unable to help worrying his lip between his teeth.

At that Eddie and Steve snort as Steve shrugs: “What can I say, I know what it takes to always look good.”

“I do it effortlessly, though,” Eddie teases.

“With your team of stylists, Mr. Rockstar,” Steve quips right back. Both of them are grinning happily, their snippy back and forth a big part of their relationship that neither of them takes to heart.

“You got me there,” Eddie laughs, before turning to the photo. “You and Robs make a great team, I’m glad she talked you out of getting cold feet.”

“I didn’t get cold feet,” Steve protests, before looking away. “I just maybe needed to hear it again that you would show up.”

“Of course I would show up,” Eddie says, almost affronted.

“You both showed up,” Jonathan sighs. “I don’t know why you two always need to rehash this argument. Both of you were nervous and both of you did it and you’re happy now.”

“It’s nice to repeat it sometimes,” Eddie says.

“You wouldn’t get it,” Steve immediately backs him up, dropping their argument.

Jonathan sighs, but doesn’t go into it and also doesn’t really look bothered. Instead he says: “I think these two match very well. Wayne and Robin are the most important people to you and I think it’s nice that you got to have them as back up and that the two of you mirrored each other subconsciously.”

“Hell yeah,” Eddie cheers, holding up his hand for a high five that Steve obliges happily while Jonathan flips the page.

“Okay, the concept for page 132 and 133 was to have both of you seeing each other on page 132, so walking the aisle and then page 133 had the vows and you walking back down the aisle. So the two pages are kind of the ceremony itself,” Jonathan explains. “First photo is Seeing the Groom, which is of Steve seeing Eddie.”

The photo that appears is of Steve standing in the backyard of the Hopper-Byers house. A homemade altar has been constructed behind which is Hopper, smiling proudly in his suit. On the left side is Gareth, waiting as Eddie’s best man. Robin is behind Steve on the right, squeezing his shoulder as she looks teary-eyed at whatever is happening behind the camera. The real focus of the photograph is, Steve, who is smiling so brightly it seems to split his face in two, tears sliding down his face as he cries. He seems to glow from within and breathless by what he is seeing.

“I loved seeing Steve so much,” Eddie sighs dreamily at the photo. “I mean, he’s so handsome and he cried. He told me he wouldn’t cry, but he did.”

“Of course I cried,” Steve exclaims. “I was going to marry you and you looked beautiful. Plus, you cried too.”

“Yeah, but I never denied I was going to cry like a bitch,” Eddie points out.

“No comment,” Steve says, before turning to Jonathan and asking: “So, what are your insights here?”

Jonathan shakes his head with a smile, before he starts: “I like that it seems everybody is revolving around Steve and his anticipation. Like, it is very clear that Steve is the center of the photo, but even more than that, it is who Steve is watching. There is this anticipation that underlines it all that I’m pretty proud of.”

“You were very anticipated, baby,” Steve nudges Eddie with a smile, who returns it tenfold. The two of them scoot closer, impossible as it seems.

“Beyond that, I also like the homemade element that is quite clear here,” Jonathan says. “It kind of contrasts everyone’s clothes and the traditional set up of it all, which indicated the political climate at the time. It could just be an outdoor wedding, but it was homemade because it wasn’t just outdoor, there was no other way to have it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, Steve doing the same. He continues: “I thought getting illegally married was pretty metal of us, but, as much as I am anti-establishment, it would have been nice to do it at a venue and shit. To have catering or a band playing, but we couldn’t take those risks.”

“Exactly,” Steve agrees. “I mean, I always dreamed of having a wedding, settling down with someone. Part of that was my upbringing of course, since I was expected to create an heir for my father’s business and in a small town you can’t have a baby without a marriage, but I also liked the fantasy of it all. This was still one of the best days of my life, but, like Eds said, it would have been nice to have a bigger, nicer wedding. We could afford it, it just wasn’t safe.”

“That really sucked, yeah,” Jonathan says, before he grins. “But the two of you more than made up for it at your wedding in 2015.”

The two of them have matching proud grins and Eddie says: “Yeah, we did.” This time it’s Steve who holds up his hand as Eddie high fives him.

“Corroded Coffin fans probably saw some of the photos of it that were posted online,” Jonathan addresses the audience. “But those who weren’t fans back then, just know that it was as dramatic as ever. The band performed, Eddie wrote a song with extra vows, there were fireworks and Steve’s after party outfit had photos of all their time as couple together on it.”

“It was great,” Steve informs the camera happily.

“It was,” Jonathan agrees, because they know how to throw a party. “Anyway, let’s move onto Walking Down the Aisle, which is right underneath.

The photo that comes on screen is of Eddie being given away by uncle Wayne. They’re walking arm in arm down the aisle. Eddie practically clutching Wayne’s arm tight enough to bruise, though Wayne doesn’t seem to mind if you go of the way he’s smiling. Eddie is crying just as much as Steve is, though he also can’t stop the grin on his face.

“You looked so pretty,” Steve gushes. “I swear I can close my eyes and conjure you in this moment. Burned into my noggin forever.”

“Ahww, baby,” Eddie says, pulling Steve close as he makes big, touched eyes.

Jonathan lets the two of them do their thing as he talks to the camera. “This, like many photos in this book, is another example of queering scenarios that are normally heteronormative moments, which I really love doing. And it’s just a sweet memory as well.”

“We love queering everything,” Eddie cheers, freeing one arm from Steve’s clutches to throw over Jonathan’s shoulder and pull him into the hug as well. Jonathan goes quite willingly and with a smile on his face.

They move onto the next photo, which appears on screen. It is of Eddie and Steve kissing at the altar. Eddie is holding the lapels of Steve’s suit, crinkling the fabric with the force as he pulls Steve close. Steve has one hand on Eddie’s hip, the other wound in Eddie’s ponytail. He is clinging equally close.

“This one is called Declared Husband & Husband,” Jonathan states. “What I like about this is how much you’re both clinging to each other. You just look so genuinely happy to be married, despite everything that’s against to you. Sometimes joy in an image can be really powerful.”

“Ahw, you’re going to make me cry,” Eddie says. “I already cried once about being married to Steve today.”

Steve meanwhile has turned slightly away from the camera and is dabbing at his eyes with his sleeves, before turning back and choking: “I was very happy. I am very happy. I love this photo so much. We have it framed on the hearth.”

“It is a very lovely photo,” Eddie agrees, before he kisses Steve on the cheek. “And I’m happy too, sweetheart.”

Steve melts a little into Eddie’s side, the two of them practically merging into one. Jonathan smiles at them fondly, looking a little proud of himself as well.

“Okay, next photo is Back Down the Aisle,” Jonathan breaks the silence after a brief pause.

Back Down the Aisle is of Eddie shrieking as Steve sweeps him off his feet to carry him down the aisle in a bridal carry. The shriek on his face is mixed with delight as he scrambles to hold onto Steve’s shoulders. Steve is laughing widely as if he knows how much he’ll startle Eddie.

Eddie and Steve lean over to see again. When they do, Steve bursts out into laughter, while Eddie nudges him with his shoulder and exclaims: “You were such an asshole for that,” with a fond grin on his face.

“You loved it,” Steve grins back.

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie smiles dreamily as he starts to playfully squeeze Steve’s upper arm. “My husband, so strong.”

Steve rolls his eyes, before flexing and saying: “Hell yeah, I am.” Due to the sweater, you can’t really see his arms that well, but he is clearly strong, built like heavy weight champions, broad, soft, yet filled with muscle too.

“Oh my god,” Jonathan groans. “Why did I agree to this.”

“Because we’re your friends and you love us anyway?” Eddie suggests, failing to play innocent.

“And because Eds here is great publicity,” Steve adds with a shit eating smirk.

“Fair enough,” Jonathan says as he straightens up and goes back to his task in this whole ordeal, AKA actually talking about the photo. “This is another example of queering the heteronormative, which is bound to be a theme at an illegal gay wedding.”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts with a pout. “Was it my friendship or am I just a publicity whore to you!”

“Publicity whore,” Jonathan tells him without hesitation. Despite their antics, Eddie and Steve have made him much more comfortable in front of the camera and he’s not afraid to be his own snippy self with them.

“You know what? I deserved that,” Eddie says, though he doesn’t really look hurt. Eddie will always be down to lift the projects of his friends and other people doing good things. Besides, he knows that Jonathan doesn’t really mean it and he’s having a great time.

“Thank you,” Jonathan says pointed, flipping the page.

Then he awkwardly flips it back and says: “I also wanted to add that I love the playfulness of this photo. Especially at the time, weddings were seen by broad society as this important, stiff ceremony. A lot of the time, marriages were also done out of obligation, either to hide a premarital baby, to make alliances, just for financial safety or because it was expected. These moments of joy show how much you two simply like each other and like being around each other. It makes it even more absurd that this wasn’t allowed.”

“Ahww, Jonny-boy, we should've let you do our best man speech,” Eddie jokes to hide the genuine emotion.

“Gareth and Robin would have killed me, not to mention Dustin. No, thanks,” Jonathan shudders as they all laugh.

This time it is for real when Jonathan flips the page and a new photo appears on screen. It is of Eddie and Steve, flanked by Wayne, Hopper and Joyce, remnants of tears on their faces and smiles firmly in place.

Jonathan introduces it: “This is Proud Parents. I really like playing with traditional family shoots in relation to found family and this is a great example of that.”

“These people were more parents than our actual parents anyway. It fits them better,” Eddie comments.

“Yeah, uncle Wayne took both of us in and Jim and Joyce have always been kind of there for me ever since ‘83,” Steve says. He glances at Jonathan, who nods, before he continues: “Will went missing, I also got caught up with the search. It bonds people. If Eddie and Wayne hadn’t already offered me a spot after my parents kicked me out, I would’ve been living with them. They’re the best parents ever.”

“I am very lucky,” Jonathan agrees easily.

“As am I,” Eddie says. “Sure, I got kicked out, but uncle Wayne was the very best. Without him, who knows where I would have ended up.” Eddie is quiet for a second. “I’m really glad we held this wedding, that he could be here for it, since, you know…”

Eddie trails off, but they all know what he meant to say: ‘Because he didn’t live to see our other one.’

They’re all quiet for a moment to commemorate uncle Wayne, who didn’t live to see gay marriage be legalized in the States. Steve is gently rubbing Eddie’s back, he knows it still hurts, no matter how many years have passed. Then Eddie breaks it and asks: “What’s next?”

Jonathan takes his cue to move on and reads out: “The one with Dustin. “I Knew They Would Get Along”.”

“Ah, the smug one,” Eddie and Steve say in sync, before looking at each other and bursting into laughter.

The photo is of Eddie and Steve posing with Dustin. He looks very smug as he stands with the two, while Eddie and Steve seem to be rolling their eyes.

“He was our ring bearer,” Eddie says. “He fought very hard for best man, but I had to give that to Gar and Robs wasn’t going to budge either. Though, he was my best man at our legal wedding. I think Gar is still a little salty about it.”

“Gareth just likes holding grudges over nothing,” Steve comments. “I think he’s still mad at me for that time in ‘98 when I told him I’d bring cookies when I came to watch you guys practice and I forgot. I apologized like three times too.”

“You still know the year that happened?” Eddie asks incredulously.

“I also like holding grudges,” Steve replies, looking away bitchily to which Eddie snorts.

“I have very little to add to this photo,” Jonathan states to get them moving again. “Page 134 are posed photos, so they are less snapshots. I love this one mostly because Dustin can be very smug and Eddie and Steve can be very done with his shit. Fondly, but still. This just show their relationship quite well.”

Jonathan looks back to the page and says: “Last one on page 134 is With the Kids and is just you guys posed with the younger party. Cool to skip that one?”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees easily and Steve also shrugs as he nods. He’s more than happy to let people who are used to being in these sort of settings make decisions like that.

“Okay, page 135 has two I love,” Jonathan says. “They’re more personal reactions, less posed. I got one for each of the grooms, but there are others with other people. These just say a lot. First one is the one that spawned the idea of this video; Lead Singer Gets Hitched.”

It is of Eddie being lifted onto the shoulders of the Corroded Coffin boys. They’re so proud that their emotions out themselves like they’re a bunch of jocks. Jeff and Chris are bearing most of Eddie’s weight while Gareth is just grinning widely as he tries to stabilize a manically laughing Eddie. None of their suits are done up properly and a sense of happiness and pride wafts off the image.

Eddie has a soft, fond grin on his face as he looks at the photo. He looks up after a second and says: “I just love those guys, you know. They’re the best. None of us expected to get married. Me and Gar never dared to dream, because two small gay boys in Bumfuck, Indiana and Jeff and Chris were pushed down their entire lives right besides us for being nerds, metal heads, freaks. I think none of could really believe this was happening. Any of it. It felt amazing, kind of like we made it in a different way than showbiz.”

“This photo reads as such a victory photo, a true celebration, which I think shows that,” Jonathan comments.

“It’s very jock-like,” Steve says. “And I think that’s hilarious. You just scored the winning point at the end of the match, Eds.”

“Let me have this, Stevie,” Eddie pouts with a big smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Of course, baby,” Steve agrees immediately and with ease, kissing the tip of Eddie’s nose as he does, which makes Eddie blush and look away.

Seemingly oblivious to the blushy mess he left Eddie as, Steve turns back to the photo and laughs as he says: “When I saw them do that I was so worried about them. I mean, they’ve done crazy stunts on stage now, but back then they were a little too close to what I had seen in high school PE class. I was so sure they were going to drop Eddie. Take it from someone, who has had multiple concussions, they aren’t fun.”

Eddie has shaken off the blush and teasingly pouts: “We weren’t that bad.”

“Eddie, baby, I love you, but you are almost on Robin’s level,” Steve tells him with the most empathetic voice. “You trip over air regularly and clip into things all the time. Jeff has broken his guitar writing stuff down, Gareth once fell of stage. You fell of stage. Multiple times.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” Eddie grins, doing jazz hands.

“That’s you being an idiot,” Steve shoots right back, grinning as he shakes his head fondly.

“The next photo is The Groom and His Best Man,” Jonathan interrupts before they can tease-flirt even more.

The Groom and His Best Man is a photo of Robin and Steve. They’re is sitting on the ground, not caring that the grass will likely stain their suits. Robin is sitting on the ground next to Steve, legs thrown over his lap. Their heads are bend together as they admire the ring on Steve’s hand. Robin is smiling softly, while Steve still looks to be in awe, like he still can’t quite believe it.

“Whereas Lead Singer Gets Hitched is a loud celebration, this one is such a quiet awe-filled moment,” Jonathan says. “I really love the juxaposition between them by putting them on the same page, as well as showing how they’re different sides of the same coin. The loud celebration of something you didn’t think you could achieve versus the stunned silence of getting there.”

“You’re right, I couldn’t believe it,” Steve agrees, smiling at the photo. “When I fell in love with Eddie, I mourned a lot of stuff too. They don’t tell you that, but a part of discovering yourself is letting go of a future you’re not going to have. I shouldn’t be complaining, of course, I could still love a woman, so-”

“Hey, no bi erasure, sweetheart,” Eddie interrupts softly, but sternly.

“Ah, sorry,” Steve drops it immediately, giving the camera an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him. “What did you want to say?”

“Oh, yes,” Steve gets back on track. “When I fell in love with Eddie, I knew he was it for me and with that came a lot of happiness, but also knowing there were things I wouldn’t get to have. That was pretty rough at first. I grew up believing my future would follow all the steps of school, marriage, home, kids and then I was confronted with the fact that I wouldn't have all that. And that was hard, very hard. I always wanted to settle down, have kids and that just crumbled before my eyes.”

Steve takes a shuddering breath and Eddie pulls him close, softly asking: “You still good to share, doll? You can always back out.”

“I am,” Steve assures him with a small smile, before going on. “It felt like that was gone, but Eddie kind of gave that future back to me. We said screw it, if we want to have that future, we can, even if we have to built it ourselves. This photo is the moment that sank in for me. That I could still have all that and look at me now, I do.”

He looks up and smiles, before going on: “And I’m glad I shared it with Robs, because she was the person that has always been there for me. Who mourned that stuff with me. She knew from a young age that wasn’t in the cards for her and while she never dreamed of it, I know this also gave her a little bit of hope.”

“And she had her glorious gay wedding too,” Jonathan says.

Eddie, meanwhile, has gone teary eyed and quiet as he buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, hiding behind his hair as he wraps himself around Steve. Choked up, he whispers: “I’m glad I could do that for you, Stevie.”

Steve smiles lovingly at Eddie, scratching his scalp as he replies: “I’m glad too. Love you.”

“Love you too,” came Eddie’s muffled reply.

There is a cut, before Jonathan is introducing the next one: “Page 136 has a start of the night, end of the night comparison, while page 137 is what the actual party looked like when the part where people felt that they had to look nice for the pictures was over.”

“AKA the best part of the night,” Eddie quips with a big grin.

“Sure,” Jonathan smiles as he rolls his eyes. “First we have Eddie & Steve Munson, which is at the start of the night when both grooms were still looking handsome.”

“Especially Eddie, isn’t that right, Jonny?” Steve comments, leaning over to look at Jonathan.

“Don’t,” Jonathan says, hiding behind the book.

“What?” Steve replies, acting both innocent and oblivious, with an edge of mean girl shining through. “You had a crush on my husband, can’t I point out how good he looks? You agree, don’t you?”

“Oh my god,” Jonathan groans as he thunks the book against his head. “I should have never let Eddie tell you that. Besides, that was in like ‘89, I was already over it when I took this photo anyway.”

“So you’re saying Eddie isn’t handsome?” Steve asks, biting his lip to contain his laughter, while Eddie hides a giggle behind his hand.

“This feels like a trap,” Jonathan says, his voice sounding forced.

“It is,” Steve tells him cheerily. “So, I’ll let it go. The answer was that he looks very dashing and handsome, as well as very taken and happily married.”

“He does look very happily married,” Jonathan agrees gratefully.

Eddie & Steve Munson, which has been on screen throughout the conversation is taken right after the ceremony. Eddie and Steve are standing, foreheads resting against each other, hands clasped between them. Both of them are smiling as they gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, suits perfectly in tact. A classic wedding picture.

“If I may interject,” Eddie says, saving Jonathan further. “I’d say that Stevie also looks very handsome and happily married.”

“Probably because he is,” Steve replies as he leans in close to Eddie, both of them with love sick looks on their faces as they face one another, their noses practically touching.

Either letting them be or being oblivious to it, Jonathan says: “This is again the queering of a traditional photo and, as mentioned, we juxtaposed it with the less glamorous and socially acceptable end of the night. So, right next to it is Grooms at the End of the Wedding.”

The photo is of the pair. Both of them have lost their suit jacket and tie, Steve has a few buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up, while Eddie’s dress shirt is unbuttoned all the way down, though still tucked into his pants. They both have a beer in their hand and are shitfaced. Eddie’s arm is wrapped around Steve’s waist, Steve’s around Eddie’s shoulder as they grin into the camera.

“As you can see, they’re a lot more disheveled, but what I love is the satisfied looks on their faces, you know,” Jonathan says. “They had a great night and that shines through them.”

Next to him, Steve has put his head on Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie has him pulled tightly to his side, though they’re listening to Jonathan. Steve agrees: “We did have an amazing night.”

“God, it was great,” Eddie reminisces with a big grin on his face. “I was only invited on ragers when I was there to deal – yes, I was a drugs dealer in high school, big wow – so to be at one with people I actually liked and go nuts was amazing and definitely an experience. Not at all comparable to famous people parties.”

“Can you say that?” Steve asks concerned.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“About the drugs?”

“Pretty common knowledge by now, plus statute of limitations has run out anyway,” Eddie shrugs.

“I know that, but is it smart?” Steve asks.

“Don’t see why not,” Eddie grins.

“Alright,” Steve gives in, trusting Eddie to know what’s best for him. He moves back onto the topic and says: “It was pretty close to high school ragers, but also not even close. Those parties are all people drinking and throwing up, there is arguing and people trying to be cool. This was actually fun. The only comparison is the drinking.”

“God, we were so drunk,” Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, you two fell like three seconds after I took this one,” Jonathan says.

“Really?” Steve frowns as Eddie comments: “I do not remember that at all, but that does explain why I had this big bruise on my thigh the next morning.”

“I told you it wasn’t me,” Steve crows with delight. “It was way too big to be a hickey and a weird place too, like why would I create a huge hickey on the outside of your thigh. I don’t know why you thought that.”

“It could have been,” Eddie defends himself. “We have done-”

“Let’s not get into you guys’ sex life,” Jonathan cuts them off, before the argument can get too revealing. At the interjection Steve blushes deeply while Eddie cackles loudly. “Moving on,” Jonathan says. “First one on page 137 is Keg Stand King Steve.”

The photo is of Steve doing a keg stand, held up by Eddie and Jeff, as around him Argyle, Dustin, Erica, Gareth, Lucas, Max and Robin chant. It looks more like a frat party than a wedding.

“This photo isn’t beating the high school rager allegations,” Jonathan snorts.

“Excuse you, this was a special request by my husband,” Steve says snootily. “I wasn’t going to deny him this on our wedding day.”

“Hell yeah it was,” Eddie grins happily. “Stevie here was keg stand grand master of our high school until senior year. I never got to see it myself, but I always thought it would be hot. My baby here kindly indulged me.”

Steve puffs up with pride at the words.

“God, you two are so weird,” Jonathan informs them, though it’s more a comment to himself. “But it does reflect the vibes of later in the night very well. And it looks funny next to the more respectable photo of a group next to it, which is Dancing Couples.”

Dancing Couples is of the dance floor, taken a bit earlier into the night when suits were on semi-properly at least. Front and center are Eddie and Steve dancing together. In the background you can see Mike and Will dancing, as well as El and Max, Max is leaning on her crutches with El’s arms wrapped around her neck, as well as Argyle and Nancy.

“I am going to be honest here and say that Dancing Couples was supposed to be on the left of the page and Keg Stand King Steve on the right, but we only noticed they were switched when it was too late, so this is how they are now,” Jonathan says. “We wanted a progression of the night, but that is kind of ruined. It is what it is. If we have put out a new edition, that will be fixed.”

“Huh, I didn’t notice,” Steve says, as Eddie nods: “Me neither.”

“That’s good,” Jonathan smiles. “In this photo Eddie and Steve are of course the focus as the grooms, but I tried to get as many couples in the background as I could. I really wanted to show that this was a queer wedding to its core and that we’re not alone. There are enough of us to fill a dance floor. We can have our own celebrations, do softer things like this, even if the media was calling us sexual degenerates.”

“It’s a cute photo,” Steve tells him. “I love that some of the kids are in here with us. Having them there was so important to me. I’m glad they had fun too.”

“You’re so cute, I love you,” Eddie squeals, grabbing Steve’s face to leave kisses all over it while Steve giggles under the attention.

There’s a cut to when Eddie and Steve are acting normal again as Jonathan moves on. “Then on the lower left there is Making Out Without a Care.”

The photo that appears is of Robin and Rose fully making out. Rose is in a lovely dress that shows off her soft belly and ass, with a neckline that goes down south. In the background you can see Eddie and Steve hollering at the two.

“Ahww, Robbie and Rose both looked beautiful,” Steve gushes. “Robin almost didn’t invite Rose, because she didn’t want to risk it ending bad and then always having her in my wedding photos, but I told her to do it if she felt right about it. Clearly, she felt right about it and that was a correct thing to feel.”

“Robin can be such a little worrier,” Eddie comments fondly.

“Yeah, she can,” Steve agrees with a fond grin. “But Rose and I keep her down to earth.”

“They fit really well together,” Jonathan says. “I really like the story this photo tells of them being together and you two in the background giving support. It’s such a drunken club photo and I really love it.”

“We are each other’s hype man,” Steve says. “Of course I was going to be hyping her up.”

“I just support debauchery in general, but especially when my friends do it,” Eddie shrugs with a big grin on his face.

Jonathan rolls his eyes, before he addresses the camera: “As I said before, we wanted this page to be a slow descend into intoxication. First, respectful dancing, then the drinking, then the making out and then the winding down. We got most of that at least. So, the last photo is He Is Saying My Husband on Repeat.”

It is of Steve sitting on a chair, Eddie in his lap, facing him as he steadies Eddie with two hands on his hips, while Eddie loops his around Steve’s neck. Eddie’s face is mostly obscured, because he is whispering something in Steve’s ear. Steve’s face is flushed as he giggles at what is being said.

“As the title says, Eddie was just saying that over and over again,” Jonathan tells the camera. “I love this photo, because it’s such an intimate and joyous moment and I really love capturing those.”

“God, Steve truly is the most handsome and pretty boy out there, isn’t he,” Eddie sighs dreamily, as he rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, who is flushing.

“I don’t know Eds, my husband is kind of better,” he teases to get away from the embarrassment.

Eddie cackles loudly, before he replies: “I’m going to have to fight you over that, sweetheart. Since my husband is the best.”

“Square up, babe,” Steve says, jokingly nudging Eddie with his shoulder.

“As much as I love your flirting,” Jonathan interjects before it can get out of hand. “Any comments, memories other tidbits?”

“I just remember being unable to believe it,” Eddie says. “I mean, it wasn’t true legally, but it was in our hearts and I just had to keep reminding myself that I was actually married. That I had a husband. I was gay trailer trash and I suddenly had a career and a loving relationship, that was already wild to me. In that moment, I just knew I was the luckiest man on the planet. So, that was mostly for my own benefit to just keep saying that.”

“It was adorable,” Steve smiles mushily. “You’re always so cool and tough, but you’re such a softie as well and I just want to swaddle you in a blanket and keep you all to myself.”

“I totally support that,” Eddie grins, through his cheeks are obviously burning, going all the way up to his ears.

“Good,” Steve replies, sounding very satisfied with himself as he loops his arms around Eddie and pulls him close.

“You guys had a great wedding,” Jonathan says. “And you two are an amazing couple. Truly, you complete each other. As much as I complain about your flirting and dramatics, it’s been great that you’re willing to talk about it all on here with me and that I was allowed to share your story.”

“Of course, man,” Steve says, pulling Jonathan into the hug as well. “You’re our friend and I couldn’t think of a better person to have photograph our wedding and tell our story with photos. You are a master.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan says, blushing.

“Even if you have a crush on my husband,” Steve adds, ruining the moment immediately.

“Oh my god, let that go,” Jonathan whines.

“Never,” Steve grins.

Jonathan buries himself in Eddie’s shoulder, so he doesn’t have to look at anyone. Eddie, meanwhile, lets the chaos unfold around him, waving at the camera as he says: “Thank everyone for watching, I’m sure Jonny-boy here will be back. Bye.”

“Bye,” Steve waves, before going back to prodding at Jonathan, who also squeaks a goodbye before the video ends.

~~

A/N:

Shout out to Jonathan for putting up with their bullshit throughout this whole thing honestly, he’s the real MVP

[walkswithmyfather]

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:1‭-‬6‬ ‭(ESV)‬‬. “At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.”

“Who Is Greatest?” By In Touch Ministries:

“Christ’s followers find purpose and joy when they trade their earthly mindset for an eternal one.”

“If you’ve spent time around little children, you can attest to the innate human desire to be best, fastest, strongest. “Watch me run! I’m the fastest in the world!” sounds adorable coming from a little boy—but those same words from a grown man would be unsettling. For better or worse, most of us learn to hide our hubris from the world.

Yet when Jesus’ disciples asked, “Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (Matt.18:1), it seems they were trying to one-up each other, thinking as a child would. Am I the greatest? Or is he? Why is he better than me? How could I surpass him?

Jesus responded to the juvenile question with a necessary rebuke: None of them were greatest. Yes, as adult men, they held legal and social status that women and children couldn’t attain. Yet in God’s kingdom, this sort of privilege would not only fail to gain them power; it would also be a roadblock to true greatness. However, there is a childlike quality God values: To be “great” in His eyes and in the kingdom, we’re to divest ourselves of power and status and become low, as Jesus Himself did (Philippians 2:5-8). In this way, believers are meant to become like little children.

As followers of Jesus, we too are invited to set aside any earthly status we’ve achieved and become humble and childlike. In so doing, we just may find the kingdom of God in our midst.”

[Photo by No Revisions at Unsplash]

[kaigarax]

In the Midst of Uncertainty

Hoshiumi Korai x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone you met." & "Fall in love with the idea of someone."

Someone You Loved

“What do you think of the ocean?” Hoshiumi asked, the back of his hand brushing up against yours.

“A desert,” you say, your eyes filled to the brim with wonder, “a blue desert.”

Hoshiumi felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. You’re in awe, that’s obvious, there seems to be something more. It’s almost as though you’re displaying a new emotion entirely. One that, until now, Hoshiumi has never seen before.

Is this moment really real?

It feels as though he could reach out and your visage would become nothing more than an illusion conjured up by his tired and restless mind.

He’s stuck within a moment of uncertainty. Unsure of whether to reach out to see if you’re really there or to just stand there watching you from a distance being forever unsure if this moment was illusion or reality.

Was this how you felt when you took photos of others? When you took photos of him?

Wanting to just capture the very essence of the subject but the feelings that this moment has invoked within you.

“Sir?” The woman standing in front of Hoshiumi waves a badge in front of his face.

Hoshiumi shoots her an apologetic smile, taking the badge quickly before walking into the room.

It feels… surreal to be here.

Truthfully, Hoshiumi had imagined this moment many times before. Standing among his friends and peers as more than they thought. As a surprising change to his image. Though, among all the different variations he had always imagined that he’d be able to be here with you. With you by his side.

Or rather he’d be here by your side.

You’d give that small modest smile that always managed to make people flush and brush the back of your hand against his as you introduced him to the crowd. People would look at him with amusement and awe but Hoshiumi wouldn’t care the slightest about their views and words. His eyes would solely be on you. And then, at the end of the show when everyone else is just about gone he would finally wrap his hand around yours.

And yet… here he stands alone.

The cold air blasts him as he opens the doors. The room is still mostly empty though Hoshiumi expects it to fill up soon. He remembers reading somewhere that they would play a slideshow of your favourite photos before the end of the private service.

Hoshiumi, truthfully, doesn't have much experience with funerals but he expects that most people are planning on making it to the slide show. Afterall, it’s something that’s meant to display your life and everyone that means something to you.

Everyone, Hoshiumi included, are entranced by the photos that have been displayed on the walls. Your photos have always been amazing but Hoshiumi doesn't think that he’s seen any of these before. The boy had gone through almost everything you’d ever published when he first met you and he doesn't think he’s seen any of these before. Of course, he could have easily overlooked them or just simply doesn't remember.

All of the photos are eye-catching but the first one to truly grab hold of Hoshiumi’s attention is the one filled with a boy with tired eyes staring into the lens of the camera. There’s this half sort of smile on his face as he’s leaning on his arms. The kind of expression one would see on someone that is exactly where they wish to be.

What was your relationship with him to elicit such an expression? So much warmth and admiration.

Hoshiumi almost feels a little embarrassed as he stares at the photo. It’s such an intimate look. The same kind of look that girls gush over when they talk about famous actors in their favourite scenes.

Pulling himself away from the photo, Hoshiumi attempts to find his own.

It’s the last one in the long line of pictures. He’s not staring at the camera and seems to be in the middle of a game. None of Hoshiumi’s teammates can be seen, though Hoshumi assumes that they were likely photoshopped out.

Hoshiumi had never been all too good at posing for photos but this one definitely makes him reconsider just how photogenic he might really be.

“You’re that boy from the earlier photos, the Soldier, aren’t you?” A loud voice exclaims.

“Yeah. How’d you know? Most people are surprised when they learn it’s me in those photos.”

Hoshiumi turns his head to look at the two strangers. Well, they aren’t exactly strangers. No one in this room is a stranger to him but neither are they people who he’s met before. Hoshiumi has committed almost each and everyone of these faces to memory. Not because of anything to do with the individuals themselves but because they were faces you cared enough about to take down. Because they were people that mattered to you.

The loud voice belongs to the Mentalist. A lanky man with dual coloured hair and a practiced smile. He’s definitely older than Hoshiumi but doesn't look a day older than he did when you had taken his photo.

The Mentalist smiles, “you have the same eyes.”

The other man who is dressed in a green suit is someone Hoshiumi recognizes as the Soldier. It takes him a moment to put a name to the face but he ultimately figures it out when he notices the man’s eyebrows raise in suspicion. The spitting image of the young boy’s photo that you used to carry around in your wallet.

“And the same expression.” Hoshiumi adds.

The duo turn to look at Hoshiumi, their eyes scanning him.

It’s something akin to the expression other volleyball players give him before a game. As if they’re sizing him up and looking for any angle where they might have a one up on him.

Hoshiumi isn’t one to barge into stranger’s conversations…

Okay maybe he is - but to him these two are the least strange to him.

They’re the two you talked about the most during the days the two of you spent together. The two that made you smile the most. The two that made your eyes light up the way that Hoshiumi wanted to make them. Out of everyone here, Hoshiumi feels as though he might be able to be friends with the two of them.

Though, admittedly, they seem very different from how you described them. Perhaps it’s because of the events.

No.

It’s because he’s not you.

The Mentalist turns to look at him, “the Athlete?”

Hoshiumi flushes, “I was never really a fan of that title.”

“Why so?” Asks the Mentalist.

“Because it always felt so…” Hoshiumi trials off.

Wrong? No it wasn’t wrong. He was an athlete but to be called the Athlete is quite a title to bestow upon someone. He feels like the odd man out compared to the other two men. Two men that have known you much longer than Hoshiumi has. To them he must be nothing but a kid. Someone with barely any knowledge of you compared to them.

You.

You’re smiling at him through the photo hanging of you on the wall.

It’s an older photo. Your hair is significantly shorter and you don’t have those sunmarks that Hoshiumi used to love counting. You used to always flush and push him away which would only cause him to laugh in response.

What kind of person were you back then?

Were you as easily flustered back then? Were you more youthful and hopeful? Did you spurt random bouts of wisdom that sound like baloney? Did you flush when someone mentioned your age? Hoshiumi remembers joking about how old you were getting though now he realises just how young you really were. Much too young for him and everyone else to be here now.

The Soldier clears his throat, “different from who you felt you were?”

“Yeah.” says Hoshiumi, though he can’t force himself to turn and look at the other two men. He feels as though he might break. But he doesn't leave either. Afterall, he’s never been the kind of person to back down in the face of a challenge. Though, this isn’t the kind of thing most people would consider a challenge.

And besides, strangely… Being around these two is a feeling similar to how it felt to be around you. It’s strange yet comforting.

“You know, those are the titles she picked for you.” The Mentalist explains, “I think she would have wanted you to look a little deeper into it.”

The Soldier scoffs, “and what’s yours supposed to mean, Mentalist?”

The Mentalist gives a well practiced smile, “well, I'm a magician, aren’t I? She was always very impressed by my extraordinary mental prowess. Though… When she said it, she always meant eccentric. Considered calling it ‘the Mad Man’ at some point.”

Hoshimui wonders what else you had considered calling him.

You had promised him a preview of all the photos you’d taken of him before you… Anyways, Hoshiumi hadn’t ever gotten to see those photos until now. He never got to see all the little notes you wrote on the backs of those photos and the beautiful poems he’s heard the others talk about. But this is enough. It’s enough for him knowing that you cared enough to give him such a beautiful and meaningful title in the first place.

The soldier’s eyes brightened, “she wanted to call mine ‘the Brat.’”

Now that Hoshiumi can’t see.

But the thought makes him laugh.

Hoshiumi quickly clears his throat, feeling enough courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him all day, “did you two know her well?”

And their answers - “Not as well as I’d like to.” Says the Mentalist. The Soldier shugs, “At one point.” - surprise Hoshiumi.

From how you talked about the two of them he would have assumed that you were close. The looks on their faces turn sad and sullen and yet Hoshiumi feels not joyful but suddenly not as lonely. It makes him feel as though it wasn’t just him that you wanted to keep at an arm's length. It wasn’t just him that you were afraid to let in.

“Did you?” Asks the Soldier.

“I’m not sure.” Answers Hoshiumi.

“Well you’re here so you must have meant something to her.” Says the soldier, his voice soft.

The Mentalist smiles warmly, “and she must have meant something to you.”

You meant more to him than you’ll ever get to know.

“So,” The Mentalist clears his throat, “what’s ‘the Athlete’ supposed to mean?”

“Oh,” Hoshiumi mentally scolds himself for flushing again, “well it’s actually a bit of an inside joke… I think.”

The Mentalist turns his head to the side, “you think?”

“Well, she always talked about how she admired athletes. Talked about how she loved the way they ‘sparked’. Honestly, I’m surprised she chose me in the end.” Hoshiumi smiles, “I guess she couldn’t help but be impressed when she watched me play.”

Sparking.

Hoshiumi remembers how brightly you smiled when first saying those words. ‘Not everyone sparks’, you said, ‘people that spark are brilliant. Like you. It’s kind of hard to explain but I imagine it’s something similar to that feeling you get when you manage to break through a block that’s been roofing you all game.’

The Soldier, who's been standing idly by, finally turns to look at Hoshiumi and the Mentalist, “have any of you talked to the others?”

Hoshiumi rubs his neck sheepishly, “the others?” This is the first conversation he’s had all day.

“The other Muses?” Asks the Mentalist.

“Oh,” Hoshiumi looks around at the other people crowding the hall, “no. Honestly, I’m not really familiar with anyone else here. She never really spoke about the other… muses.” Apart from the two of you. “I’m basically a stranger to everyone else here. What about the two of you?”

“I’m in the same boat as you.” says the Soldier.

Hoshiumi and the Soldier then turn to look at the Mentalist who promptly responds, “she always did like to keep her distance.”

Distance, huh.

Hoshiumi hadn’t thought of it like that before. Though now that he thinks about it he realizes it’s likely something you’ve been doing all your life. Afterall, your childhood friend, the Soldier, looks around weirdly as if out of place in a place that you used to call home. A distance between yourself and your youth. The Mentalist, the man who helped bring you into this world, stares at your newest photos as though he can’t believe that this is something you’ve created. A distance between yourself and your past.

And a distance between yourself and him.

The distance between you and Hoshiumi was one he could never quite bridge. He could only ever love you from afar and wonder what it might be like to hear you call out his name. In the middle of a game when you’re cheering for him; excitedly when you have something on your phone that you want to show him; upsetly when he teases you about something stupid; or softly when he leaves for an away game.

Fall in love with someone you met.

---

In the Midst of Uncertainty

(Y/n) (L/n),

Sometimes I wonder what you might have thought of me. Was I just another person passing by? Was I someone you wanted to know? Someone you wanted to be around? I guess now I’ll never have the chance to ask you now, though I suppose I never would have asked in the first place.

Hoshiumi Korai.

---

‘Beneath star filled eyes and below the practiced smiles was the ‘her’ I knew. A young girl who wanted nothing but to change the world.’

- The Soldier

---

You know,

The other day while I was out something came up that reminded me of you. The water fountain, where you took the first photo of me, was getting repaired. An older man approached me and spoke about his memories there and talked about how sad it was that it no longer held the same magical sparkle.

At first I had agreed with him but the longer I stared the more I began to notice that there was some sort of sparkle still there. The children that ran and played around it certainly seemed to find something magical about it; and I began to wonder if that was how you too saw the world?

Your friend, Korai.

---

‘She glowed. Perhaps not with the brilliance of stars, or the destructiveness of fire; but with the gentle comfort of the night - like fireflies.’

- The Storyteller

---

Dear (Y/n),

There are many things I wish I could have said to your face. Many things that I’ll never get the chance to say.

I have this vague idea in my head of what I think you might say. Of how I believe you might have reacted. Like, for instance, when I’m stuck at the grocery store trying to decide between two different apples. I’d imagine you’d laugh before throwing them both into the cart and I’d put them both back but see them once again when we reached the register. I’d give you a certain look and then you’d smile - the same smile you always had when you saw me.

And yet, when I ask others about you I’m met with such different versions of the person I used to know. Such mixed reactions and predictions of what you might have done and it makes me wonder if I ever really knew you at all.

Yours, Hoshimui.

---

‘From whispers to rumors I learned her name. It wasn’t something I thought worth remembering yet it was also something I’d never forget.’

- The Mentalist

---

I feel lonely when I think of you. Of how I might never end up with someone. How I’ll forever be searching for someone that’ll only ever be second best. And it makes me sad.

---

‘People say she parted crowds like how Moses parted the sea. That she danced on the moon with stars in her hair. Really though, she was someone who loved to get lost in crowds.’

- The Dancer

---

(Y/n),

Did I ever tell you how I used to pour over your written works? That, at one point, I’d taken out all the photos in the album you left behind just to search for tiny phrases or poems that you might’ve left behind? How, while I’d never been all too good at reading, your words reached me in a way nothing else ever had?

I think, in another life, you could have been a poet or writer. Perhaps not a big ticked author whose work ends up as a New York Times’ best seller but the kind that manages to reach the hearts of even the most closed off individuals. Perhaps not because you managed to live a life just as bad or worse but because you were able to feel sympathy and empathy for them.

I wonder if other people have managed to read the words you’ve left behind. If they think about you the same way that I do? If they wonder about you the same way that I had? And if they hoped to one day see the face of someone that moved them so.

Korai.

---

‘Sometimes she was as gentle as dew on the petals of flowers in the morning; others, she was as loud as the pounding of raindrops in the midst of a thunderstorm.’

- The Architect

---

I miss you deeply.

Perhaps not as much as your parents or relatives miss you.

Perhaps not even as much as your friends or acquaintances.

But deeply - if that make’s sense.

---

‘The stories always painted her as a soloist on a journey of discovery but I like to think that she was more of an accompanist. Someone that sought to bring out others’ brilliance.’

- The Violinist

---

I think you were like a distant wave in the wind, a sudden burst of warmth in a sea of cool, and it was refreshing yet overwhelming at the same time.

---

‘I know of many that have claimed to have recognized her elegance and brilliance from first glance. But to me she was utterly ordinary.’

- The Journalist

---

(Y/n),

Before you knew me I used to think of you before bed. I used to dream of you when I went to sleep and think of you once again when I woke up. And it’s strange, isn’t it? That I’d desperately search for a way to be close to someone that I didn’t know? Someone that I never knew? And yes, I did feel rather odd, but it was my way of wondering what kind of person you’d be and how you might think of me.

I think, deep down in the depths of my heart, I knew that there would forever be this distance between yourself and I. It was just the kind of person you seemed to be. So kind and warm yet just barely out of reach.

That was how you seemed to me, a stranger, and how you seemed to your friends. And I wonder if that ever made you lonely. If it ever made you wish for something more. Something that you might not ever be. Of course, I hope you didn’t mind it and I hoped that you did manage to find someone close to you (even if that person wasn’t me) because we should all be close to someone. That, afterall, is how we are meant to live. Together.

When I knew you I would wonder about you constantly. In between games and sometimes in the middle of training sessions. Of course you didn’t totally consume my mind though you certainly seemed to do that very thing to my heart. When I knew you I felt as if I knew you more and less. As if all my questions before had been answered and strangely opened more.

As if we could ever know someone for just a few moments or questions.

Your death was so sudden, ya know?

The kind of thing I’d never be able to prepare myself for.

The kind of thing I’d never thought would have happened.

The kind of thing I wish…

Ya know, sometimes I wonder how our lives might have been if we were born in another universe. In another time line with different… variants. Would we be nothing but characters on a page? Would I still love you from a distance? Would I have ever gotten the chance to know you at all and if I did would I still love you the way I did now? Would you just be another person?

I think not.

I’d like to believe that this me, and every other me (if others me did exist) would love you. Not because it was a matter of life or because it was something predetermined by fate or God but because that was just how things would be. And it would be a choice I’d choose to make every day.

Korai.

---

‘She walked a tightrope between brilliance and insanity. Teetered on the edge of a pedestal others placed her upon. Watching from the outside in.’

- The Hero

---

It’s hard for me to understand other people. Though I guess that’s because I never really tried. In my mind, I imagine most people are sad. A part of them is always searching for something they’re missing - searching for something to really care about - when they aren’t already distracted with something else.

---

‘At some point I had begun to wonder about her. How her laugh might sound, how her tears would fall and how the world might light up around her when she smiled.’

- The Bookkeeper

---

“I had once hoped to fall in love.”

“And why is it no longer what you wish for?”

“Well, I suppose I still do - though differently than how I had before.”

“How so?”

“Now I hope to love and be loved rather than love someone else from afar.”

---

‘She was ever like a breeze in the wind. Always all around you, ready to shower you with a gentle kiss of spring, yet always just out of reach.’

- The Auteur

---

Do you remember when I asked you “how do you come up with ideas for your photos?”

How you shook your head and sat silently for a while. Then you went on a long walk. When you came back your expression was sad and almost empty - almost as if you’d lost all inspiration that once filled your eyes. Your strange behaviour had gone on for so long that I had begun to wonder what it is that I might have done wrong. And eventually, you closed your eyes and spotted something amongst the brilliant stars.

And you smiled, “instinct, I suppose. Though mostly because of people like you.”

---

‘There was this seemingly innate ability she seemed to have that allowed her to so easily connect with others. Some say it was her eyes, others her smile, I think it was that flutter.

- The Chef

---

It’s hard to write but it’s even harder to love.

Sometimes, I wonder if I have done either.

---

‘She was sort of like that moment right before you took flight. Filled with so much excitement, anticipation and fear for what’s to come.’

- The Pilot

---

Dearest, (Y/n),

I attended a showing of yours the other day. Though I suppose it was more of a showing that presented you rather than a showing that you have created. The paintings were beautiful and almost all of your Muses had gathered around to see it. It was in celebration of your life. I guess that’s the only time we’re ever all in one place though. When it’s about you.

The names of people that I’d known for years seemed so much more… human in person. Less tangible.

We were all asked to write something about you for the show. Asked about what we thought you were like. I wonder if you would have smiled after reading everyone else’s words. If you would have shaken your head and turned away. You definitely collected quite the group of personalities among you.

And yet somehow… Everyone here seems so alike.

I can’t exactly name how, it’s more of a gut feeling in my chest. Like when I know where someone’s going to hit despite their bodies giving nothing away.

You used to tell me that that was one of your favourite things about me.

I wonder if it still would be now.

Ya know, I have to admit, I don’t think I ever really thought about death until you. Of course I knew that people died but the full force of the idea didn’t really sink in until you were sunk beneath the sea. I think it would have made you happy, knowing that your ashes were spread across the sea instead of being buried beneath the ground. Free to travel the world to your heart’s content. And truthfully, I could never imagine you being trapped in one place for the rest of time.

A part of me wishes I had managed to meet you sooner. When you were still young and filled with youthful innocence. When you were still naive and eager to see the rest of the world. When you had yet to fall in love for the first time. I wonder and wonder, and it only makes me wonder even more.

Do you think I would have been able to know you better?

Do you think anyone would have been able to know you had you not closed yourself off?

Do you think you could have loved me?

I miss you.

I think everyone here misses you, at least a little.

Ya, I think that sounds right. At least a little.

Yours, Korai.

---

‘Many knew of her, but I doubt anyone really knew her. From the Soldier to the Journalist, she masterfully built her walls. I don’t think she ever really let anyone in.’

- The Athlete

---

Fall in love with the idea of someone.

[allthingsfook]

Flame : D.R.W

Minors DNI 🔞sexual content, graphic content, oral (m receiving), rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, nothing too bad this time 

Word Count: 1,512

You decide to finish off Danny’s 4th of July weekend with a bang! Sneaking away from a flaming firework display, you and Danny disregard the volume of your salacious acts behind the locked door of your holiday getaway. 

Author’s Note: Just in the nick of time for the 4th! Sorry it was last minute and probably shit, but the idea had great potential! Hope you enjoy anyway!

‘A blessed holiday weekend’ you type an Insta caption. The post consists of photos of the lake, festive parade, yummy food, and loved ones! The boys’ families made a trip down to Nashville and friends congregated to celebrate the 4th at a cabin Danny and the boys rented outside the city. In preparation, Danny and Sam purchased an illegal amount of fireworks, Josh and Jake stockpiled enough booze to give the whole state of Tennessee alcohol poisoning, and everyone else chipped in to make a feast! You click ‘post’, slip your phone back in your pocket, and settle down into your chair.

You place your hand in Danny’s lap and he gently grasps it while smiling over at you with kind eyes. He’s slumped back in a lawn chair, amused by Sam frantically working on lighting an elaborate grid of fuses for his firework display. You also chuckle at the sight. While the anticipation builds, you glance over at Danny once more. He’s been wearing his hat backwards lately, and something about that drives your mind to wild places. His chestnut curls are tucked behind his ears, pronouncing his stunning profile. While kids in school made fun of his prominent nose, you couldn’t complain… as it always feels so good nudging against your clit. His biceps glisten with a thin layer of sweat in the faint porch light; the humidity is unbearable most days, but it did leave Danny shimmering like a God… which you rather enjoy. A smirk spreads across his face as he continues to watch Sam.

 “What a fool,” he chuckles before taking a drink of his seltzer and turning his attention to you.

 You’re beaming as your cheeks flush over. He totally caught you checking him out. How did that slightly embarrass you after all this time? He slightly squeezes your hand, getting you out of your head.

 “What’s up?” He questions non assumingly.

 You raise your eyebrows and grin behind your lips. “Nothing. I can’t check you out?” You respond with a tinge of tease in your voice.

 “By all means,” he encourages. “It’ll even things out.”

 “What do you mean by that?” You ask with perplexation while lifting your eyebrow.  

 Danny leans into your ear. “I’ve been envisioning your body on top of me all fucking weekend,” he whispers while placing your hand over his shorts.

 You feel how hard he is for you. Looking down, he’s practically bulging out of his shorts; so noticeable you could see it from across the lake. As much as you yearned for him, you are in the midst all his family and friends! You withdraw your hand quickly and widen your eyes at him as a warning. He’s still… unsure of your next move. Without fail, a slight smirk spreads across your face. You can never hold your ground with him.

 “Ah! You pull away, but you like it,” he rasps toward you before sitting back in his chair, taking another swig.

 So many emotions are running through your head, culminating to feelings pooling in your cunt. You know you shouldn’t be turned on by his behavior, but it’s too tempting. He’s been so busy with touring, promoting, and rehearsals it’s left little time to satisfy each other. And here, of all places, is where your conscious decides to act on them. ‘Impeccable timing’ you think to yourself. Meanwhile, Sam successfully lights his fuses, sending the line sizzling. He saunters away, surely proud of his impending spectacular. Quicker than anticipated a beam of glowing red Strontium rockets into the sky behind his head. He ducks down, clutching his ears, and giggles while running to his seat. In the excitement, now that everyone is entertained, you pull Danny out of his chair, around the porch, and into the nearest entrance of the cabin. Rushing him to your weekend bedroom, he quickly catches onto your plan. Once in the room, you lock the door, drop to your knees and begin untying the draw string of his shorts.

 “Oh fuck,” he groans as you handle his cock.

 Wasting no time, you spit on it and begin sucking him hastily. You look up at his reaction. He drags his hand from his brow to his chin, moaning all the way. He peers down at you too. Oh, does he love seeing you so needy for him. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he revels in the sight of your lips wrapped around his length. His face furrows and his jaw hangs limp as you purse your lips around the tip, then take him so deep you can tend to his balls with your tongue. He lets out a deep growl. Normally you would place your hand over his mouth, – you’ve had too many experiences silencing him when his family is in the next room – but tonight there was no need. The pyrotechnics mask his vulgar sounds. His neck retches back. You know you have him close already. His hands cup your face, and he pulls you off his dick. He grips your forearms and pulls you to your feet; kissing you with intense passion and slipping his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours. He guides you over to the bed and pushes you over it; the perfect height for him to slip himself inside of you. He scrambles to pull your shorts and panties off, massaging your voluptuous ass once he’s exposed you. As his dick plows into your tight cunt; you lurch forward. Deep within, a whiny moan travels up your throat and echoes out into the room. He chuckles.

 “Hmm. Did you miss my cock?” He questions already knowing your answer. He just needs to hear you say it.

 “Yes, Danny!” You coo back at him.

 “That’s right,” he grunts.

 He grips onto your hips and thrusts rhythmically into you. With every pulse you let out a choppy moan, which turns him on even more. He bears down and pushes harder. His groans are deeper than normal. More needy and chuffing. You bury your face into the quilt, sinking your teeth into the material to fight off a premature high. You want to ride it as long as you can. When you finally do raise your head for air, you have a perfect view of the fireworks out the window. You chuckle and lay your head back down.

 “What the fuck is so funny?” Danny groans.

 “Nothing. Just getting dicked down with a view here,” you chuckle once more.

 He pumps into you even harder, clearly not interested in anything outside of what his dick is in. He softly moans obscenities and remarks how tight your pussy is. You grip the sheets and coax him to climax with your sultry voice as colorful reflections adorn your skin in the dark room. The harder and deeper he goes inside of you, the closer your core comes to melting over him. His nails dig into your skin and trace down your back. You jump and wince, but the slight pain is invigorating. He knows how that jumpstarts you heart and races you to cum. Your legs begin to quiver. Your stomach knots up. Every muscle in your body tenses for a moment before your brain tells you to let go.

 “I’m ready to cum for you, Daniel!” You shout.

 You are met with encouraging noises. He pumps faster, attempting to match you with his release, but you are already edged. You take a deep breath and force yourself to give in. The knot in your stomach dissipates and all comes flooding through your pussy. You whimper and cry into the mattress as Danny fills you with his cum. The both of you pant over each other; strands of hair sticking to your faces, and bodies slick with sweat. He pumps slowly as he comes off his high, readjusting to his original size. When he finally pulls out, your body can unwind. You pick yourself up from the bed and greet him with a cheeky smile. He places his strong hands on each side of your head, combing down your disheveled hair.

 “You are such a slut,” he whispers with a chuckle.

 You stick your tongue out at him and smirk. He smiles and taps your cheek, letting you know he appreciates your sick humor. Jumping up from the bed, you pull your bottoms back on as if nothing happened, so does he. To avoid making a scene of the unholy acts you just committed, you sneak your way back out to your lawn chairs just in time as Sam’s display comes to an end. Everyone cheers and applauds the show, especially you and Danny. Sam stumbles over to Danny, nearly falling into his lap. He slaps his shoulder and takes a sloppy drink from his Topo Chico.

 “Where did you two run off to?! You missed the whole deal here!” He exclaims.

 “We didn’t miss a thing!” You reassure him while shooting a wink toward Daniel.

 “You two are something freaky,” Sam chuckles as he swaggers off into the night.

Taglist: @llightmyllovee @hayley1623 @alisonwonderland29 @letswalktogether @sam-i-am-20 @gretavanchaos @mintysammykiszka @why-ami-on-here @jordierama @doodle417 @sunfl0wer-power @gold-mines-melting

[omoriaskspace]

《 The world is surrounded by dreamlike minty hues, the sky an endless galaxy of stars shining above as the world seems to spin ever so slowly. 》

Have you figured it out yet?

This is starting to get reallllllly boring...I thought you said that the internet was supposed to be fun and limitless?!

Wait! Look!

《 As if on cue, the laptop turns on with a small chime, opening to a home page of an open field with nothing but a blue expanse above. How strange. 》

Thats weird...

There are so many buttons though!! Which one should we press first??? Wait- Aha..slow down, we dont even know what this thing is supposed to do yet.. I mean, it looks pretty simple! Whats the worst that could happen?

《 What would you like to click first? 》

☞ Internet Browser !!! Photos Solitaire Email

《 Omori carefully hovers the mouse over the internet browser, and gives it a hesitant click. Uncertain if it would actually work in this place. Whitespace seemed to have internet, somehow despite its emptiness. Maybe the Vast Forest would have some as well? Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. 》

《 As he clicks it, it opens a new window, and the first tab it opens on is a place called Tumblr...strange. Everyone seems to look at the computer with awe, seemingly dumbfounded by this new revelation. 》

Look at all of this...stuff.

There are so many people!! Look at all of these pictures and such!

Ooooh!! I wanna try!!

Wait, is it safe for us to be doing this?

I don't see why not! as long as we're careful.

How do we make an uhh...account?

It seems pretty simple! Ya just uh...wabam!

《 Without warning, Kel pushes Omori aside and proceeds to steal the mouse away from the other boy, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he continues to click everywhere, with a certain goal in mind that he isnt quite sure how to reach. Omori seems a bit miffed. 》

Kel!! Kel you shouldnt just shove people like that! Thats really rude! He was taking too long!

《 In the midst of their distraction, Omori carefully nudges his way back into his spot quietly, taking control of the situation and making an account for them all, albeit a bit hesitantly. Would this effect the world around them? Technically this wasnt supposed to be happening to begin with. 》

All of you quiet down, Omori has it all figured out!

《 The gang turns to look, their eyes wide with curiosity as they crowd around the laptop, leaving Omori to sit in the middle of it. 》

Woah!! Cool! What should we do with it? We should post pretty pictures on it too! What? Thats all you can come up with? I dont see you coming up with anything better!! Guys..look, theres a little inbox thing where people can ask you...questions i think? Or just send you stuff. Interesting... See?? That sounds way more fun than just posting silly photos! Kel...

Hgk, sorry.

What if we did both?? We could answer questions and send pretty photos!

《 The gang considers this for a moment. 》

I suppose i dont see why not, lets be careful what we post though! Even if it looks fun, it could still be dangerous. Alright!! Oooh this is gonna be so exciting!

I call dibs on decorating it!

What!? No fair!!

《 So the gang sets out to work, adding little bits and pieces to their new shared blog to make it theirs until it was eventually finished, with everyone feeling proud of their work as they stared at it with equal excitement. 》

And now...we wait.

(( ASKS ARE NOW OPEN, FEEL FREE TO SEND WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE. ))

[29daffodils]

mid-length rant about somdom and it's strange superiority complex

over my almost 1-year in this fandom, i've come across many people and thankfully enough these days i only lurk in the quiet part of the fandom because the other side, is oftentimes very loud about various things to the point they take away all the joy from it.

what I'm a little pissed about right now is the fanmeet in chongqing. our boys are looking gorgeous and acting all cute and nice and everything. in the midst of all this enjoyment, there's the geniuses harping on and on about “oh, why didn't they ask first/khaotung about their next series/about their favourite this or that/about something else?” etc etc. and these are all the fans who haven't been to the fanmeet and typing all this from behind screens.

to add, this is not even the first time this shit has happened. even before, during various fanmeets, these questions have been directed towards fans who went to the FM or towards interviewers who did.

my question is : what the everloving heck is wrong with these people?

there's a thinly veiled superiority complex lurking underneath too if you notice.

one should know that questions from fans are personal to them. some people like to ask about mildly serious things things like the actos' future projects or endeavours while others just want to ask questions that's harmless fun and feeds the fan inside them.

while i am of a similar opinion when it comes to asking such "lame" questions repeatedly to actors, especially by professional event hosts/interviewers, it makes me lose my mind at the audacity some of these other fans have when dictating what kind of questions should be asked by those attending the events.

like, maybe, i dunno, just a suggestion from someone who actually bothers being nice to other people, go and buy the damn ticket and ask those questions yourself?

until a while back i was very confused as to why every other fandom seems to badmouth somdom, but ever since i've come across this bunch (who are slowly growing into a majority), i am tempted to say that they are right. the insane superiority complex when treating your actors/faves as gods when compared to others, whether be it in terms of acting/singing anything else; desperately fitting them into cookie cutter moulds to show how they are better than others; absolutely refusing to accept that they too need to grow into better actors/singers. i could go on and on.

and, this is coming out of left field, but the one funniest thing I've ever seen happening in this fandom is that one particular fight about yuzumumu acrylic nails during the rome fanmeet. like whyyyyyyy.

dear god, these people need to go out and touch grass sometimes.

surprisingly, this bunch still mostly remains on twitter, though they are now migrating to bluesky : only today i saw someone reply under a harmless engagement post about sharing your favourite bl actors' photos, with the words, “well let me introduce first kanaphan. for a change, he can act.” there was no need to add that right under OP's post where they'd shared a pic of nunew (i have never seen him act, nor do i know what he's acted in). while this som may have been right about the acting, god forbid, that was absolutely uncalled for. it seems half of somdom is somehow always geared up to cause trouble and fight with everyone else.

like why? where is all this time and energy and audacity coming from?

p.s. : please do not try to chew me out over this. i am very much open to answering asks and having a healthy conversation over this, but i think most people here by now know that twitter soms are a different breed of unhinged.