#you have no idea how hard it was just narrowing down to 3 scenes

[steddiehyperfixation]

aftermath

my @steddieexchange gift fic for @resande! here's some canon complaint kas/vampire eddie angst with a little side of hurt/comfort and a dash of fluff at the end <3 also happens to fit one of my @steddiebingo prompts: panic 6.3k words | rated t | ao3 link

People are always saying that dying is like falling asleep. But as Eddie lies there choking on his own blood, he thinks this is very much not like falling asleep at all. It’s not peaceful or easy or safe. There’s no sense of his soul being carried gently from one life into the next. It’s painful and terrifying and fucking heartwrenching, tears caught in his throat as well as the blood as he spends his last moments struggling to speak, trying to give the poor kid crying over him some parting words, some small comfort. Dustin’s already going to be traumatized for life from this, it’s the least Eddie can do.

Eddie’s breath rattles. Death rattles. His vision darkens, thoughts growing sluggish, and, oh, maybe this is the part that’s like falling asleep. The dull numbness spreading through his body, the looseness and heaviness of his limbs, the soft swooping sense of release as everything goes black.

He even dreams. Hazy scenes float in and out of his vague awareness, disjointed and nonsensical, as dreams often are. Breathing in the fresh forest air under the stars… Laughing with the kids… Kissing Steve Harrington... Maybe this is heaven. Blood on his hands and in his mouth… Fear and hatred burning in his friends’ eyes... A horrible creature with the appearance of a man skinned and scarred and mutated beyond all recognition of humanity standing at his side... Or maybe he’s in hell. The monster telling him, “Kill them, kill them all...” The air filling with sounds of pleading and screaming… No. No. This must be hell. A nightmare. He doesn’t want to know how this one ends. He sinks back into the blackness and he doesn’t dream again.

And then he wakes up.

Gasping and shivering, Eddie’s eyes fly open in the undeniable sharpness and solidness of reality. He’s acutely aware of his own body, of every sensation in and around it. A physical form feels almost foreign to him now after so long of dreaming untethered. Being alive is such an assault on the senses, has anyone else ever noticed that? He’s never felt so real, so cold, so hungry. “Fuck,” he gasps out as he heaves his upper body up from the cold hard ground he’d been laying on.

He’s sitting in the dirt, on the blood-soaked earth of a recent battlefield. Bodies of dead Upside-Down creatures lie scattered all around, including the corpse of his nightmare monster-man, whose head now sits quite a few feet away from its body. No human bodies lie among them, thank god. The humans, his friends, are all still alive, their victory apparently recent and the relief of it still fresh as they tend each other’s wounds and collapse into one another with tearful hugs. The sound of Eddie’s movement gives them pause, a collective apprehensive breath rippling through them. They all turn to look at him.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s face lights up and he moves as if to run towards him, but Steve almost immediately shoots his arm out to block him, holding the kid back with a firm hand on his chest as he steps protectively in front of him.

“Is that really you?” Steve asks with narrowed eyes and a voice harsh with distrust.

“Yeah, of course it’s really me,” Eddie answers. “Have I ever been someone else?” He means to say it like a joke, but his humor dies in his throat under the wary glares of not just Steve but everyone else as well. Even Dustin’s face has fallen into a hesitant frown. And suddenly the idea doesn’t feel all that funny; suddenly it seems like a very real possibility.

Robin is the one to confirm his growing fears. “Yeah, actually,” she says plainly, “you have. You just were.”

“Oh.”

It certainly explains things: how he got here, alive and back in Hawkins, when the last thing he remembers was dying in the Upside-Down; why he feels so unused to his own skin now; why his hands and face are currently sticky with blood that’s not his own; why Steve won’t let Dustin get close to him; why none of them will quite look him in the eye. Someone or something else had been parading around in his body, wreaking havoc or doing who knows what for who knows how long, while Eddie had been dreaming none the wiser. He shivers again, his stomach twisting, because not only is he cold and hungry still, now he’s also guilty. Guilty of something that’s made his friends afraid of him. He looks over each of them. They all appear to be in rough shape, not one of them unmarred by deep scratches or bruises; Steve even has a large bandage covering the side of his neck, the bloodstain seeping through shaped just like rows of teeth. Eddie can’t help but wonder which of those injuries were inflicted by his hands, if the claw marks on Dustin’s arm would match his own fingernails, if the bite on Steve’s neck would match his own teeth.

He rises unsteadily to his feet. Everyone takes an instinctive step back, flinching away from him, and Eddie raises his hands in what he hopes is a non-threatening gesture (although given the amount of blood they’re covered in, it might not actually be all that comforting).

“I, uh, I’m sorry f-for whatever I was, whatever I did,” he says shakily, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know- but I-I’m me now, I promise. I’m me, I’m Eddie. Good old confused and terrified Eddie.” He punctuates the end of that sentence with some self-deprecating jazz hands and then immediately cringes at himself. Back from the dead and still a loser, some things never change.

Dustin looks up and over at Steve. “I believe him.”

Steve frowns, his expression carefully guarded. “Yeah, well, we all believed him the first time around too, and look where that got us.”

“I didn’t,” Nancy speaks up. “The first time around, I never totally trusted him the way you guys did, but I think I believe him now too.”

“Yeah, Steve, I think maybe this time we really did get an extra win,” says Robin.

“Maybe.” Steve doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but he does relax his protective stance somewhat in favor of crossing his arms and turning slightly to look at the rest of the group while still keeping Eddie warily in his peripheral. “Anyone else care to chime in?”

“I never really met the real Eddie, so I wouldn’t know either way,” the remaining older teen of the group, who Eddie recognizes as Jonathan Byers, says with a shrug. “Do you guys, like, feel anything?” Jonathan directs the question towards two of the kids - his little brother Will and a girl with a growing out buzzcut, who Eddie assumes is probably that superpowered girl El he’s heard so much about.

Eddie watches, twisting his rings around his fingers as they all talk about him like he’s not there.

Will and El both shake their heads. “One is dead,” El says, and Will agrees, gesturing vaguely at the back of his neck, “There’s nothing there anymore.”

“So then obviously that’s the real Eddie,” Erica says like anyone who thinks otherwise is hopelessly stupid. “It was all a hivemind, right? Cut off the head and the body dies? Well, we cut off the head. Literally. Nothing under Vecna’s control could’ve survived that.”

So the beheaded monster-man corpse must’ve been Vecna(/Henry/One). Gross. For some reason Eddie had been picturing a much cooler-looking villain than that. Not that that’s at all relevant right now though. Bigger things to worry about.

“She has a point,” Lucas adds. “Kas was part of Vecna’s hivemind, so if Vecna is dead then Kas is dead too.”

“Kas?” Eddie questions, briefly drawing some of the attention back to him.

“That’s what we called you after we figured out that you…weren’t you,” Dustin explains. “As in-”

“As in Kas the Bloody Handed, Kas the Betrayer. Right. I get it.” Eddie’s more than familiar with the D&D character Kas, the deceptive and disloyal vampire who serves as the dark wizard Vecna’s right-hand man right up until Kas ultimately betrays him too; Eddie had only just used him in his own campaign. It fits, bloody hands and deception and all. Vecna’s minion. Eddie wonders if when the kids named him they did so with the hope that he might eventually fulfill his namesake and turn on this world’s Vecna as well, help them defeat him. He hadn’t.

Guilt again, running deep and dark and ugly in the cold hollow of his veins and his stomach. Guilt and hunger are really not a good mix. If his stomach twists one more time he thinks he might throw up. If there would even be anything to throw up. Did Kas ever eat?

The rest of the group has returned to squabbling amongst themselves over whether or not Kas could possibly exist outside of Vecna, and Eddie is just another problem to them, something to solve. He stands on the outside, trying to swallow down how uncomfortable he is, all his pain and fear.

He fidgets with his rings again, stares at his stained hands. Kas the Bloody Handed. For some reason, curiosity or instinct maybe, Eddie finds himself bringing his fingers up to his lips and licking tentatively at the blood still dripping from them. The tiniest touch and the sweet metallic taste explodes across his tongue, instantly bringing some relief to not only his hunger but the cold he feels as well, as if the blood is warming him from the inside out. His mind clears of everything except the craving of that relief. He laps up more, licking his hands clean. He shoves his fingers in his mouth to suck the remaining blood from them like a lollipop, and something sharp pierces his skin.

“Ow, shit,” he hisses, pulling his hand away and watching as the tiny pinprick wounds on his fingers close up and disappear within seconds. The sudden pain had snapped him out of whatever daze he’d just been in, and now the true horror of it all can begin to set in. Eddie lifts a shaking hand back up to his mouth and carefully feels along the edges of his teeth. Sharp, pointed. Fangs. Fuck.

“Uh, guys?” he calls out, interrupting whatever debate is still going on about him. “Your Kas didn’t happen to also be a vampire, did he?”

The attention turns towards him again, and his question receives the wary response of, “Yeah, why?”

Eddie grimaces, lips drawn back just enough to reveal the sharp new points of his teeth. “I, uh, I think he might’ve left something behind…”

“I fucking knew it,” Steve sneers with a bitter sort of vindication. He gestures sarcastically towards Eddie as he raises a bitchy eyebrow at everyone who’d spoken up in defense of the vampire. “You guys were saying?”

“Wait, that doesn’t mean he’s still Kas though,” Dustin protests.

“Look at him, Steve, he’s terrified,” Robin says. “That has to be real.”

“Kas was a good actor.” Steve looks at Eddie like it pains him to do so, a million contradictions in his expression. Though his face softens slightly, his eyes are hard and conflicted, so many unreadable emotions behind them. “I know that more than any of you. Besides, how else do you explain the fact that he’s still a vampire?”

“I’m not Kas,” Eddie insists, though no one really seems to be listening to him. He takes a deep breath and wills his fangs to retract - and, miraculously, they do. Maybe it will be easier if he looks more normal again.

He really shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve kept his sharp new teeth to himself instead of reigniting everyone’s suspicion. He’s not sure what he was thinking, only that he’s so fucking scared he needed to do something, and maybe some stupid desperate part of him was still clinging to the hope that his friends might give up on trying to solve him and start trying to help him. But clearly that’s not going to happen anytime soon. There's no comfort to be found here. He’s on his own with his fear and it's threatening to overwhelm him.

But he can't have a breakdown, not now, not here, not with these people. Eddie takes another measured breath and tries to redirect his growing panic into something safer, something more productive. Agitation maybe, frustration.

It's not too hard. Everyone is theorizing again.

“What if the vampirism wasn’t actually because of Kas?” Mike is saying. “What if it happened separately from Kas, like a mutation in just the body that maybe made it more viable for Kas or whatever, but not necessarily connected to him?”

“So when Kas died with Vecna, the mutation still stayed,” Will tacks on, nodding like it makes total sense. “It might even be what’s keeping the body alive still.”

“I’m not some fucking thing!” Eddie finally snaps. “And I’m right fucking here!” Predictably, there’s a collective flinch at his outburst, startled eyes snapping to attention. He huffs, pulling agitated hands through his grimey, tangled hair. “Look, I’m not a threat to any of you, alright? In fact, all I really wanna do right now is just go home and take a nice hot fucking shower because I’m exhausted and filthy and clearly I’m just freaking you guys out by being here. So if you’re all done trying to figure out what sort of monster I am, can I get going now or are you guys gonna try to stop me?”

There’s a bit of an awkward pause at that, like no one’s quite sure what to say or how to say it.

“You, uh, you can’t go home,” Robin tells him, a little apologetic scrunch to her face. “Not because we won’t let you or anything, it just kinda…doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Your trailer was destroyed when Vecna split the world open and your uncle moved to some government-paid-for house miles outside of town,” Nancy explains. “He was told you were dead, so…”

So Wayne didn’t have a reason to stay in Hawkins anymore, especially not if he had enough government hush money to afford somewhere nicer. Eddie can’t fault the old man for that, although this news does waver his current ability to keep holding himself together. He forces down the emotion rising in his throat. “Right.”

“You stayed at Steve’s last time,” Dustin offers helpfully, earning him a glare from Steve, which he then makes worse by amending, “Or, well- Kas did, while he was pretending to be you.”

Eddie graciously manages to ignore Dustin’s complete inability to read the goddamn room, and looks at Steve instead. “I take it that’s not an option this time?”

“I don’t know.” Steve crosses his arms and frowns as he considers Eddie with those fractured eyes of his. “You can use my shower,” he decides finally, “just so that the sight of you wandering around covered in blood doesn’t send the whole town into another witch hunt again. But beyond that…I wouldn’t count on it.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Eddie says. He just needs to get out of here, as if a change of scenery might change his situation. Everything else he can figure out later when he’s not so singularly focused on trying not to fall apart.

“Great,” Steve says dryly, like he might already be regretting this decision.

He turns away from him again for more conversation Eddie's not part of anymore. But at least they're not talking about him this time. It's mostly just a basic discussion of what everyone's doing next: who's going to update Max (who apparently is currently blind and wheelchair-bound and couldn't be here for the main fight), who's going to stay and help dispose of all the Upside-Down creature corpses, when they're gonna regroup next, how long El thinks it will take for her to recharge enough to be able to use her mind powers to check on the situation in Eddie's head. Okay so maybe some of it is still about him.

Steve makes a comment about how his task is to “babysit the vampire,” and Robin must’ve caught the way Eddie grits his teeth a bit at that because she ducks away from the rest of the group to talk to him.

“Hey, Eddie. Cut him some slack,” she says, gesturing with a dip of her head towards Steve. “Kas messed with all of us, but he messed with Steve the most. This is especially hard for him, just give him some time.”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie folds his arms over his chest, his fingers pressing into his biceps like it might help to press down everything roiling inside of him. He’s getting antsier and antsier by the second, and Robin is absolutely not helping. His guilt flares again and so does his irritation, the two mixing like oil and water. He can’t even begin to imagine what awful things Kas had used him to put everyone through, and of course he understands that, but at the same time it’s not like this is all that easy for him either. No one seems to appreciate that Eddie is also having a terrible fucking time right now too.

“Oh, and you should know - if you somehow are still Kas and you fuck with him again, I will personally make sure that you join Vecna in the beheaded freaks club in the afterlife,” Robin adds, perfectly matter of fact, and Eddie doesn’t doubt her.

“Yeah, alright, Robin, I get it,” he assures her before she can say anything else to make him feel even worse. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Good.” She nods, apparently satisfied enough with his response, and the tiny half-smile she offers him then is the closest thing to sympathy or apology he’s received all day.

“Are you ready to go?” Steve approaches, swapping places with Robin as she falls back to rejoin the rest of the group.

Eddie nods, dropping his arms and rolling back his tense shoulders. “Lead the way, Stevie.”

Steve flinches. “Don’t call me that.” He turns sharply on his heel and starts walking off in long, quick strides.

Eddie nearly has to jog to catch up to him. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t respond and the rest of the walk to his house passes in a thick and heavy silence. He can still hardly seem to look at Eddie, always staying a few steps in front and keeping his eyes fixedly forward with the same sort of steeled and measured determination that Eddie is also currently employing. Like maybe they’re both trying not to have a breakdown.

Thankfully this horribly uncomfortable journey does not have to be suffered through for very long, and they soon emerge from the woods into the Harrington’s sprawling backyard. If Eddie was in any state to, he might’ve made some comment or joke, some dig about Steve’s rich-kid house, but now he stays quiet, mutely following Steve inside.

Steve gathers up a fresh towel and some clean clothes for Eddie to borrow. “Here. You can use the bathroom down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, sincerely. Steve only nods, looking away from him again.

And now Eddie is finally alone, in the biggest bathroom he’s ever seen in his life. His entire trailer could probably fit in here three times over and that’s only a mild exaggeration. There’s huge mirror above two sinks, a jacuzzi bathtub in one corner and a fancy shower with glass doors in the one adjacent, and in the center of it all there’s even this large circular cushioned seat, perfectly in front of the toilet just in case you wanted to have a friend come sit and chat while you take a shit. Again, this would be a comedy gold mine if only Eddie wasn’t already too distressed to appreciate it. Instead he hardly even takes a second to look around before he simply strips off his filthy clothes and makes a beeline for the shower.

The second those glass doors close behind him and the warm water hits his back, that flimsy little wall he’d been trying to build up around his emotion crumbles completely and all his fear and guilt and everything else tears out of him in a ragged sob that wracks through him so completely his entire body shudders and convulses with it. Another sob breaks through before the first one’s even finished, and then another and another and another. He’s choking on his tears, hardly able to breathe. His thoughts aren’t helping either, set free and spiraling through every awful thing he hadn’t been able to let himself dwell on earlier.

What did you do? You were used, violated, your hands have drawn blood, maybe even killed, why didn’t you stop it? His mind berates him, blames him. Kas had hurt and damaged and destroyed, every act seeping into and staining the vessel he’d used to do it, and then he’d left Eddie behind to carry the weight of it all on his own. Left him in the body of a monster, in every single way. You’ll need to draw blood again to live, drain the life of another living thing to sustain your own. Who or what will you hurt next? You’re a monster. A monster a monster a monster.

He’s never felt such despair or so trapped in his own skin. I can’t live like this. He sinks to the ground, curled in on himself and gasping, drowning, drowning in the roar of his mind and emotion and the water still beating down on him from the impassive shower head above him. His thoughts are becoming less and less complex or coherent with every hyperventilating breath until they ultimately solidify into simply: I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.

A hesitant knock on the door startles him suddenly. Maybe if he wasn’t so lost inside himself and the sound of his own sobbing he would’ve heard the footsteps passing by and then passing back, a wavering pacing before the knock even occurred, but he hadn’t, and so it startles him, his rapid breaths now freezing entirely for a moment.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice floats uncertainly from outside. “...Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie manages, voice raw, and his lungs take the opportunity to resume with breaths even more panicked than before, as if to make up for the previous few seconds of suffocation.

“Are- You don’t sound fine,” Steve says after another moment of hesitation. “You…you kind of sound like you’re having a panic attack.”

Yeah, no shit. Eddie only curls up further, knees to his chest, arms in a death grip around his legs. He can’t find the breath to speak again. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

A few more seconds stretch by and then Steve knocks again, softly. “Can I come in?”

I can’t. Eddie couldn’t move to unlock and open the door for him even if he wanted to. His body won’t listen, too stiff, too busy shaking. I can’t. “I can’t-” Aloud this time, quick and broken through his gasps. “I can’t- I can’t get up.”

A much longer pause this time. Maybe Steve’s left. Eddie doesn’t know, doesn’t care - can’t care, mind too full and too loud. And why wouldn’t Steve leave? He’s already made it clear he still thinks Eddie is a monster. A monster a monster I can’t

Something clicks in the lock and the door swings open. “Oh, Eddie…” Steve whispers at the sight of him, immediately rushing to open the shower doors, turn off the water, and drop down to join Eddie on the floor. He pulls Eddie’s tense and trembling body into his arms and holds him against his chest.

Eddie’s head falls into the crook of his neck, too close to the artery there, too close to the sound of Steve’s blood and the monster inside of Eddie. He dips his head lower, tucking it under Steve’s chin instead. Safer. “I don’t- I don’t want to be a monster, Steve,” he sobs, in all the choppy, shaky speech he can manage. “I can’t- can’t live like this. I can’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Steve murmurs; soft, soothing voice. A hand comes up to gently stroke Eddie’s hair. “Just breathe, Eddie, you need to breathe. Can you do that? Can you breathe with me?”

Eddie can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest beneath his head and he struggles to breathe in tandem with it. He manages one breath, two, but the third one breaks and shudders into another bout of hyperventilating.

“It’s okay, you got it,” Steve encourages, gentle and patient, still holding him, still stroking his hair in time with his even breaths. “Just keep breathing, keep breathing. That’s it,” he says as Eddie sucks in a deep inhale and tries again.

Slowly, very slowly, Eddie’s breath finally begins to consistently match the rhythm of Steve’s, and his shakiness starts to ease.

“There you go, good,” Steve continues to whisper. “That’s good, Eddie. You’re okay.”

Eddie’s recovered enough for some of the tension to drain from his body and he lets himself sag further into Steve’s chest with a heavy sigh. His coherence returned, he lets out a shaky, sniffly little laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too bitter as he says, “Does this mean you believe me now?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “Kas never would’ve cried like that.” He holds Eddie a little closer, fingers curling in his hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before.”

“S’okay,” Eddie mutters. “I get it. Robin said-” His voice wobbles still, tears pricking back up into his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “Robin said Kas messed with you more than the rest. What- what did he do to you?”

He can feel Steve shaking his head, his chin brushing against the top of Eddie’s hair. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I want to know.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. “Kas- well, you know he pretended to be you for a couple weeks before he turned on us, so he really fucked with everyone’s heads, but with me…for some reason with me he decided to fuck with my heart too,” he says finally, still incredibly vague and not actually offering much at all in the way of explanation, but Eddie gets the gist of it just fine.

“Oh.” It makes a little more sense now, the depth of pain in Steve’s eyes, why he found it so hard to look at him, why Robin was so protective. Kas hadn’t just betrayed Steve’s trust and friendship, he’d seduced him into thinking they were something more than that and then broke his heart too. Eddie feels like he might cry again. “I’m so sorry…” He lifts his head and sits up a bit, suddenly finding it kind of cruel to keep being cuddled up to Steve like that.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t you.” Steve’s arms fall away from him and he leans back slightly as if to give Eddie some space. His tone is reassuring enough, though his gaze has become avoidant again.

Eddie hadn’t really wanted Steve to let go of him, but maybe that’s cruel too. He pulls his knees back up tight to his chest, and it occurs to him also that he’s still quite naked.

This has evidently occurred to Steve too, because he’s already turning away to reach for the towel that Eddie had, in his rush earlier, dropped unceremoniously on the floor just outside the shower. “For your modesty, dude.” He cracks a lopsided smile as he tosses the towel over Eddie’s lap.

“Thanks,” Eddie returns the smile with a soft chuckle, grateful for the attempt at levity in the face of the awkwardness that’s beginning to settle back between them. A brief moment of respite before Steve shutters his expression of genuine affection and Eddie’s mind returns in force to all its guilt and worry.

Selfishly, he wishes Steve would still hold on to him, because he still feels like he could fall apart again at any moment. That wouldn’t be fair to him, though, and so Eddie simply holds himself a little tighter, arms wrapped firmly around his knees. Beside him, Steve has shuffled into a similar position, a little less tense and hunched maybe but still just as uneasy.

It’s a game of looking and looking away, eyes never quite on each other at the same time, neither of them sure what to say or what to do, only with a sense that there is something more that should be said or should be done.

“Um-” Bringing this up won’t help anything, in fact it will probably only make things worse, but Eddie starts to ask one of the questions on his mind regardless. “You said Kas messed with your heart, so did-?” He pauses, hesitates, then rephrases, “When I was…gone, I wasn’t really, um, aware of anything, but sometimes I would have these dreams, just little bits and pieces, and in some of them- in some of them I saw us kissing. So did that, uh- did that actually happen?”

Steve looks over at him. “Yeah.” He nods. His eyes land briefly on Eddie’s lips and then guiltily dart away. “Yeah, that actually happened.”

“Okay.” Eddie takes a breath, tapping his fingers against his shins, nervous to find out just what else exactly his body had been used for. “And was it only kissing, or did we- did you guys…?”

“No,” Steve is quick to reassure him, his eyes going wide as he shakes his head. “No, it was just kissing, that’s it, nothing else happened. We realized it wasn’t you before our, uh, relationship could progress that far.”

Eddie exhales in relief. “Good.” That probably would’ve sent him into another panic attack. Not that he’s necessarily opposed to the idea of sleeping with Steve Harrington, he’d just very much prefer to actually be there and present in his own body for that if it ever were to happen. So it’s a good thing it didn’t while he wasn’t. That worry, at least, is eased.

But something about the way Steve is looking at him - or rather not looking at him - is still stressing him out. He glances at Steve who glances away, and there’s still more that they’re not saying.

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?” Eddie presses, his fingers resuming their nervous drumming. “Something else happened that you’re not telling me?”

Steve shakes his head again. “It’s nothing, it’s not- it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Right, that’s super reassuring,” Eddie huffs. His mind could spiral through a thousand awful possible things it could be if he’d let it, and he’s trying very hard not to. “What- Did Kas hurt someone or something - like, seriously?”

“He bit my neck, tore up Dustin’s arm, and got Robin’s face pretty good too.”

Eddie had gathered that already. “But that’s not the thing you’re not telling me.”

“No, because it’s stupid. It’s not anything Kas did, it’s not a stain on your hands. He just knew how to get under my skin, is all. Don’t worry about it,” Steve insists.

“Too late, I’m already worried about it,” Eddie says, getting frustrated now. “And clearly you have something you want to say about it, otherwise you would’ve gotten up and left by now.”

Steve blinks like this analysis has thrown him. “I haven’t gotten up and left by now because I wanted to make sure you were okay. But I can get up and leave if you want me to.”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve!” Eddie bursts out. “Can you just fucking tell me!?”

“Fine!” Steve snaps back, then sighs and softens his voice, “Fine. Kas was a liar, I know that, so it really doesn’t matter anyways, but fine.” He runs a hand through his hair, hesitant and reluctant, wavering through a few false starts as if unsure of exactly how to tell it. “He’d just attacked us after we confronted him with our suspicions. I mean- his teeth had just been in my neck, the jig was up, and now he was just saying whatever he thought would hurt us most in that moment…”

Eddie nods with impatiently widened eyes, urging him to stop stalling and get to the goddamn point already.

“He told us you were dead, gone, whatever, but that he had access to all of your old thoughts and memories and feelings,” Steve finally starts approaching the point. “Kas never actually cared about me, he told me that and it wasn’t a surprise, but then- I mean, he could’ve just gone for easy and brutal and told me that you never gave a shit about me either, but no. No, Kas was so clever with his cruelty…” He falters again here, a bitter exhale and an awkward pause, not quite looking away from Eddie but not quite looking at him either.

Eddie curls apprehensively over his knees. “The suspense is killing me, man. What the fuck did he say about me?”

Steve takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself. “He said that you did give a shit about me? I mean, he said that he had just been going off of what was already there in your head, that he only…went after me the way he did because of the thoughts and, uh, feelings that you already had about me - or for me, I guess. I know he was probably lying though,” he barrels on before Eddie can even begin to react to any of that. “I think he just thought the ‘what if’s and ‘what could’ve been’s would drive me crazier, you know, hope always hurts more, and it did, he was right, but it’s fine. I know Kas was just a liar and a jerk and I shouldn’t believe a word he said-”

“Wait, Steve-” Eddie interrupts his nervous rambling, sitting up a little straighter. “Steve, he wasn’t lying - not about the, uh, my thoughts and feelings and stuff at least, not really.”

Steve finally looks at him, eyes a little bigger with surprise and a tentative hope. “He wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head in confirmation. “No, he wasn’t.” He shrugs, feeling nervous and strange, like a little kid with a crush as he admits, “I mean- Well, I mean, yeah, I’ve thought about you. Like, in school I’d always had a sort of…curiosity about you, I’ve always looked at you, of course I have, you know, you’ve seen you. And then when we actually spent some time together, I mean yeah we were stressed out and fighting monsters and shit, but I don’t know, I liked just being around you, I really did. So- It’s not like it really got the chance to develop all that much or anything, but yeah, the thoughts and feelings were there- are there. I, uh, like you, or whatever the kids are calling it these days.”

“Oh.” Steve's face slowly spreads into a smile. “Really? That’s good to know. I, uh, like you too, obviously. I just wish we could’ve been figuring this out under better circumstances.”

“Yeah. You know, in any other context, me naked on your bathroom floor would actually be the perfect circumstance,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Steve laughs, a genuine burst that brightens his whole face, and, oh, Eddie would do just about anything to make sure that light stays in those gorgeous eyes forever. “I mean, seriously,” he continues teasing, “what the hell else are you supposed to use this bathroom for? There’s even a cuck couch in here and everything.”

Steve snorts, shoving at Eddie’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“But I guess it’s just not as sexy when I look like a drowned rat and my face is still all red and puffy from crying, though, huh?” Eddie laments, his theatrics embellished with a mock pout.

“Says who?” Steve smirks and sits up on his knees to shuffle closer. He lifts a hand to Eddie’s cheek, gently tilting his face up. “I still think you’re beautiful.”

Eddie blushes, heart and lungs and brain rendered suddenly utterly useless. His dramaticism has shorted out and all he can manage is a flustered “Shut up.”

“I mean it.” Steve smiles at him, so softly, so warmly. Hard to believe that only a mere minute ago they were in the midst of the world’s most awkward conversation ever. Not that Eddie’s complaining at all about this turn of events though. Steve’s thumb brushes over his cheekbone. “And if you’re okay with it, I’d really, really like to kiss you - the real you this time.”

Yeah, Eddie is definitely not complaining. “I’m absolutely okay with it,” he says, the words barely past his lips before he’s getting a hand in Steve’s hair and tugging him closer.

They meet in the middle in a slow, sweet kiss, lips sliding together unhurried. The panic that had been sitting in Eddie's chest for so long is now entirely replaced by something warm and sparkly blooming through him, the remainder of his tension and worry melting away in favor of savoring the simple feeling of Steve's mouth against his. It's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, a tenderness he's never known before. He could get lost in it forever.

Forever, however, happens to only be about 30 seconds, the kiss breaking when their growing smiles soon get in the way.

“Hmm,” Steve hums as they pull apart grinning, cradling Eddie’s face in both hands now.

“What?” Eddie asks breathlessly.

“Nothing, it's just, you’re softer than Kas was,” Steve muses. “I like it.” He kisses Eddie again, brief but lingering. Their foreheads rest against each other as Steve smiles softly at him and says, “I’m glad you’re you again.”

[mobpsycho100]

Call me Jiji

[pandapetals]

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect." 

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

[aviiarie]

TO YOUR DEFENSE — chiori x fem!reader !

synopsis. chiori's partner is disrespected, and there isn't a chance she is letting it slide. warnings. n/a notes. established relationship. fem!reader. 1k words. i love her. so much. dedicated to @tragedy-of-commons who i brainrotted with about this idea <3

Chiori is by no means a soft woman. Of course, she is perfectly capable of it when the right situation calls for it. And when the situation pertains to you—her cherished lover—she can deign to spare a measured amount of gentleness for your sake, but only a fool would mistake that for weakness.

Her newest client—a bald, bespectacled man interested in a new tailored suit and little else—seems to be exactly that: a fool.

“Apologize. Now.” Chiori’s tone is as sharp and cutting as the blade of her sword, making the man visibly shiver.

“I-I didn’t—Mademoiselle Chiori!” He stumbles over his words, losing any semblance of composure that he entered the store with. There was none of the bravado he held earlier, none of the confidence that had earned him her fury in the first place. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I-I simply—”

“Simply what?” Chiori’s eyes narrow, her face darkening further. “You simply thought it was appropriate to treat my partner with such blatant disrespect right in front of my eyes? You simply decided she was a sales assistant, and assumed that made it acceptable to order her around? You simply chose to tell her to make herself useful, and get you a tie in a different colour?”

The man flinches as his words are spat back at him, stuttering and stammering to try and pull together some sort of defence. It is a feeble attempt, and one that is quickly shut down.

“Quiet.” Chiori says harshly, cutting off the rest of his spluttering. “You will be quiet, and you will listen to what I have to say. Am I understood?”

The man nodded jerkily, looking like a skittish animal. The sight was rather pathetic, he was a foot taller than her and almost twice her size, but he still cowered at her piercing gaze.

“Not only have you falsely assumed that my partner—who has so graciously offered to assist me today, when you chose to delay your fitting appointment until an hour before closing—was a mere sales assistant, instead of politely requesting she retrieve an item for you, you decided to snap at her.”

Chiori took a pause, studying the man’s expression. It was almost laughable how much a grown man could so closely resemble a kicked puppy; perhaps she would have found humour in the sight, had she not been seething from head to toe with a burning anger.

“Treating my boutique like you can come and go as you please is one thing. But treating my lover like she is a worthless, lowly servant is something else. You have not just crossed the line; you have trampled all over it in those hideous dress shoes of yours. How dare you carry yourself with such arrogance, when you do not have even the common decency to speak to others with even a shred of politeness? You are not only an impolite, bad-tempered man, but a cowardly one at that.”

With every word, his head bows lower. It’s hard to tell if the action was out of genuine remorse, or shame that he was being scolded like a misbehaving schoolboy, but judging by his actions, Chiori could safely assume it was the latter.

“You—” Her eyes drift over to the side where you stood at the side of the store, watching the scene play out with an uncomfortable expression. If she were dealing with a disrespectful customer alone, she would not have hesitated to tear into him even further until he was a shivering mess of apologies at her feet, but the way you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else made her pause.

Even if she was defending you, your comfort was her priority. She bit back the insult on her lips, forcing her words to change their course.

“—You are going to apologize to my partner. Then, you are going to leave this store, and never return. You are not welcome at Chioriya Boutique anymore, and you will be blacklisted for life. I do not ever want to see your pathetic face again, but if I hear that you are treating any other sales worker the way you treated my partner today…”

Chiori didn’t finish her sentence, but the threat was clear. It hung in the air between them, causing the man to turn pale.

“O-Of course. I sincerely apologize, Mademoiselle—” The man turned to you, clasping his hands together. “I am truly sorry!”

“Go.” Chiori’s face twists in disgust. She steps away from the man, looking him up and down like he was nothing more than dirt beneath her shoe. “And do not come back.”

“Y-Yes, of course…” He bobs his head in a nod, face still struck with fear. He backs out of the boutique, as fast as his legs could take him.

Once he is out of sight, the anger melts off Chiori like snow falling from a roof. She turns to properly face you, her hand moving up to gently cup your cheek. “Apologies, that wasn’t something you should have had to witness. Are you alright, my love?”

You nod slowly, leaning into her hand. “I’m fine…”

She clicks her tongue. Her hand moves down your cheek, sliding all the way down your shoulder to rest on your waist. “Don’t lie to me. You look shaken.”

“I’m fine, really.” You insist, forcing a small smile. “Thank you��� for defending my honour.”

Chiori’s face softens. She uses her hand at your waist to pull you closer until you were almost flush against her chest, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “It is no problem, darling. Some people just don’t seem to understand manners until they are beaten over the head with them.”

You laugh lightly, and the sound is like a melody to her ears. She hums, pulling herself out of the embrace long enough to flick the open sign to closed.

“Let’s go home, love.” Chiori pulls your hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to each of the knuckles. “Let’s forget all about what happened.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[syluslnd]

Hellow! just wanted to say I love the way you write Sylus ><

Spoiler warning kinda?? For those who didn't read his story chapter 1 story 3.

Can I request an imagine of how y/n would apologize to Sylus for shooting him upon the first meeting?

In a pre-relationship, y/n blushes at anything and is too embarrassed, shy and just feels really bad for shooting him after she develops feelings for him! So she looks for ways to apologize to Sylus before confessing her feelings (maybe through making cookies?). However, her actions made Sylus's suspicions rise.

Feel free to change anything the rest is up to you!

Thank you and I love your writings :(´◦ω◦｀):

trying to apologize to sylus

The kitchen was warm, the smell of cookies filling the air as you nervously wiped your hands on your apron. This whole plan had seemed like a good idea at the time—a small way to make up for what had happened.

Your guilt had been eating at you ever since you’d shot Sylus. It wasn’t an accident and though it was necessary at the time, the memory still made your stomach twist.

Sylus, however, hadn’t seemed bothered by it. He shrugged it off, as if getting shot was just another day at the office. That casual dismissal only made you feel worse.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Sylus stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the counter full of freshly baked cookies before settling on you. His brow furrowed slightly and you could already sense the suspicion radiating from him.

“What’s all this sweetie?” he asked bluntly, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t move any closer, just stood there, assessing the scene like he was trying to piece together some hidden agenda.

You tried for a smile, but it came out nervous, shaky. “I, um, made cookies. For you.”

“For me” His tone was flat and you could tell he wasn’t buying it. He narrowed his eyes, watching you with that intense gaze of his. “Alright, sweetie, what’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his stare making your heart race. “Nothing’s going on! I just thought… maybe you’d like some cookies.”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving your face. “Cookies” he repeated, his voice skeptical. “You don’t bake and you definitely don’t just hand out treats for no reason. So, I’ll ask again—what are you up to?”

Your face heated up, and you fiddled with the edge of your apron, avoiding his gaze. “I—I’m not up to anything. I just wanted to do something nice.”

Sylus didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Uh-huh and this sudden burst of kindness wouldn’t have anything to do with, say, you shooting me, would it?”

Your stomach flipped and the guilt you’d been trying to bury bubbled to the surface. “W-well… maybe” you mumbled, staring down at your feet.

There was a long pause, the room thick with tension as Sylus just looked at you, his face a mask of confusion. “Wait. Are you saying you’re apologizing? For that?”

You winced at how bluntly he put it, and your hands tightened into nervous fists. “I just… I felt bad, okay? I didn’t mean for it to happen that way”

“You shot me, kitten” he interrupted, his voice sharp with disbelief. “You shot me on purpose.”

You bit your lip, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. “I know. But I didn’t want to! I didn’t know what else to do at the time, and… I’ve felt bad ever since.”

Sylus blinked at you, clearly still processing your explanation. Then, to your surprise, he let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if you were the most amusing thing he’d ever encountered. “You’ve been baking cookies to apologize for shooting me? That’s what this is about?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his and you felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“I’m saying it exactly how it is” he said, still laughing softly. “Sweetie, you’re unbelievable.”

You frowned, crossing your arms defensively. “I mean, it’s not funny! I’ve been feeling guilty this whole time and you just—”

“Oh, no, no” Sylus cut you off, stepping closer and cupping your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes gleamed with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s definitely funny. You shot me in my face and you’ve been walking around like you killed me when I didn’t even think twice about it.”

You opened your mouth to argue but the words died on your tongue. He didn’t even think about it? That was somehow even more humiliating.

He tilted his head, watching your reaction closely. “Kitten, I wasn’t exactly holding a grudge. You did what you had to. But I am curious…” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, “If you’ve been feeling this bad about it, maybe it’s not just the shooting you’re sorry about, huh?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “W-what do you mean?”

His smirk widened, and his thumb brushed gently along your jawline. “Come on, sweetie. You’ve been jumpy around me ever since. I’m starting to think maybe you’re hiding something else. Something more… personal.”

Your face burned as you realized what he was implying. “I… I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he teased, his voice a low purr as he edged even closer. “Don’t have feelings for me? Or don’t want to admit it?”

You stammered, every nerve in your body screaming at you to either run or somehow disappear on the spot. “I—I wasn’t going to say anything” you managed to whisper, your hands trembling slightly. “It’s not… I didn’t think you’d… feel the same.”

Sylus blinked, his smirk softening just a touch, though the amusement in his eyes remained. “Sweetie, you really are something.”

You braced yourself for whatever teasing comment would come next but instead, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in gently. His lips brushed yours in a kiss that was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to the bluntness of his words.

When he pulled back, he grinned down at you, his voice low and teasing. “If I didn’t feel the same, I wouldn’t be here, kitten.”

Your breath hitched and you could only stare up at him, completely flustered.

“Now” he said, his hand slipping from your neck to grab one of the cookies. He took a bite, clearly savoring it before flashing you a playful look. “If all your apologies taste this good, maybe I should get shot more often.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He winked. “But you love me anyway. Right, sweetie?”

Your face flushed again, but this time you didn’t bother denying it. You just let the warmth of his teasing settle in your chest, knowing now that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

[mrghostrat]

What's some of your favourite scenes in your fics?

there is a special place in heaven for anons like u with questions like these 😍💛

mon horrible cheri: when aziraphale has a full french conversation in front of crowley without knowing crowley is fluent !!!!!!

≪That’s not a no,≫ Justine pointed out. ≪Go on, I won’t tell your headmaster. What’s he like in—≫ ≪We haven’t,≫ Aziraphale interrupted her, beet red. Then, out of nowhere, he glanced back at Crowley and offered him a small, polite smile, completely out of sorts with the conversation being had in front of him. That’s when Crowley realised, as suddenly as the envy evaporated from him: he doesn’t know. His eyes widened with glee behind his shades. He doesn’t know I speak French.

apparently i have a thing for realisations bc i also love in postcards from paris when crowley shows up at aziraphale's door and aziraphale realises who he is 🥺:

Crowley could only watch as Aziraphale’s face journeyed through a dozen flickering expressions. His frown deepened, his eyes narrowed, his chin even tilted ever so slightly up. But then shoulders squared and his lips parted, pinched at the corners until his eyes blew wide, and before he knew it, a similar gust of air was wrenched out of him. Suddenly his eyes were frantic, darting millimetres in every direction, until his shoulders slumped so far back he fell back against the door with an unflattering rattle of the latch. Crowley knew the feeling. He was still engulfed in it. Aziraphale drew another breath and his lips were shaking. His knuckles were white, blending into the pale paper they creased. “Would you care for a cup of tea?” he asked carefully, slowly reaching for the door handle.

it's so sooo hard to pick a favourite moment from flawless bc i genuinely love and am so proud of so many scenes in that one ���� i think chapter 3 is my favourite, with all the grave dirt and the denial culminating in the "I love you," he realised. then that fuckin phone call at the end of chapter 4 where crowley gets drunk and says it back and i RAAAAARRRR

Down the line, a bottle clinked against a tabletop, sloshing the liquid inside. Crowley gasped for breath. “I love you, angel.” Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak and tasted his stream of tears before he felt them. He wiped his face once, but it only smeared the saline across his skin to make way for another wave. He sat back in his chair and stared at his cold mug through bleary eyes. “I love you too,” he whispered back, devastated by how much he meant it.

and EDITOR'S NOTE!!! another one with loads of faves, like the opening scene of chapter 1, crowley's reaction to aziraphale's Beetle, and especially the gay conversation!!!!! 🫡

“I’m sorry, you just—” He coughed. “You just know all this off the top of your head?” Aziraphale stared at him for longer than he’d care to admit. “I should hope so,” he said slowly. Still, Crowley said nothing. Aziraphale tried again, “I’m… gay?” The words felt so strange to say. Aziraphale hadn’t come out to anyone since… Oh, Lord— ever. He’d never had to come out before. Even his mother, when he ran up to her at eleven years old and said he wanted to ask a date to the school dance, asked him what the boy’s name was. His father disliked him long before either of them knew why, and he’d never once been approached by a woman at a bar with the wrong idea. No one had ever gotten the wrong idea about Aziraphale before. Everyone read him like a book. Except the writer, apparently. “...You’re gay?” Crowley asked, genuinely flabbergasted. “Yes,” Aziraphale breathed back, genuinely flabbergasted.

[yumeaoka-chan]

Mr. Crow Buster

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Demon! Hobie x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: night terrors, scarecrow hobie, slight body horror (I don't even know how to write that, ugh), chasing, corn maze, peer pressure (for a good reason, trust), scared reader, lovestruck hobie, pining, sparse use of Y/N (like three times really), lovestruck? reader("I'm liking this more than I should???" is basically r thought process), no physical description of reader(besides clothing), can be read as any gender really, cursing, (your friends being absolutely disgustingly cute, ew)

Summary: Humans getting lost in his corn maze happens quite often around this time of year. But none had a soul as shiny as yours.

A/N: Credits for the lovely banners go to @the-shroom-garden !!! Fourth entry for Octobie @the-kr8tor , let's go!!! Saw a video on TikTok that inspired this.💕 This is the next part to the last fic I wrote, but you don't need to read that one to understand this one.

Part 2 >>> Part 3

“I'm telling you guys. It's like, super big every year. Plus, it's free. We have to go.”

“You've lived down there before right, Riri?” Your friend nods beside you, letting out hum as she finishes swallowing the mouthful of fries. Riri narrows her eyes at you as you not so sneakily snatch a few of them with a smile on your face before looking over at Ned with a grin.

“That's right. I know all the good shops and I can show you lot around if we go.” Serenity plops down on the couch beside you and reaches over to snatch a few fries herself, Riri pulling her food away with a scrunched up face of indignation. Chuckling, she winks at her before poking at your side.

“If we're going, we should think about the costumes we're gonna wear. Any ideas?”

“I'm just going as the same thing I was last year”, you say while rolling your eyes at the way your friend groans in your ear. “You can't beat it, Reni. It's a classic.” Riri chuckles as the woman clicks her tongue and flings a fry at her. Serenity just sighs before batting her lashes up at Ned, who's all too ready to bend down and listen to her ‘woes’, fondness swirling in his eyes.

“Baby, our friends are borin’.” She pouts as she places her hands on his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks and the man before her all but melting at her touch. You bite back the giggle that threatens to escape you at Riri’s loud boos of disapproval, her yelling turning into fake gags. Ned shoots her a glare and flips her off before smiling sweetly at his girl, pressing a kiss to her palm. The sight makes you smile, your chest warm at seeing your friends happy with one another. Serenity and Ned have been together for as long as you've known the three, Serenity being the one to introduce you to Riri and her boyfriend. You've been friends with Reni for so long that you aren't sure when your friendship began. The four of you just somehow clicked, never without one another. A little frown forms on your face as you try to remember the exact day and circumstance that led to you befriending them. The details were rather fuzzy and hard to recall at the moment, which makes your frown deepen. Shaking your head free of the thought, you focus your attention back on Ned and Reni.

“It's alright, doll. Let's show ‘em how it's done and look better than them, yeah?” He mumbles softly before pressing a kiss to Reni’s lips. Rolling her eyes and sprawling her body across your lap, Riri pats your thigh and looks up at you.

“We can match themes, yeah? Who knows what those two got planned, though. Probably somethin’ all cute and couple-like.” She says with a feigned grimace of disgust, shuddering and shaking her head. It makes you giggle as you playfully tug at one of her curls.

“Sure thing, Riri.” Warmth fills your chest as you look on at your friends before the scene blurs before you. The sounds of laughter and the feeling of hands wrapping around your waist surround you as the memory bleeds into your reality. Something tickles your cheek, soft and warm as you lean into the arms around you. You blink and it's gone, your friends now gazing at you with concern. Ned looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face and you wave a hand in the air dismissively.

“Sorry, I… Just, um, another episode I think.” You say with a sheepish smile, cheeks warming at the sympathetic looks they gave you. This was nothing new, of course. You've been having these sensations of déjà vu lately, memories and dreams of a past life you know that you've never lived before. The memories would come at random and your friends have told you that they could tell when it happens. That you go quiet and glassy eyed, mouth slightly opened as you peer off into the distance. Even if you tried to reel in your expression at times, it was like they always just knew. Reni pats your arm and smiles at you softly.

“Why don't you rest early tonight, love? It's getting late and we need to catch the bus. We'll pick up this discussion tomorrow, yeah?” She says as she stands up and gathers her purse. Riri nods before sitting up from off of your lap.

“She's right. Especially since you didn't get much sleep last night. Don't lie to me, I can see the bags under your eyes.” Riri says with a chuckle, poking your cheek when you groan.

“I'm fine! Honest!” Ned is the one to shake his head at you, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“We believe you. But as your friends, we also want you to take care of yourself. Get some rest, Y/N.” The caring look he gives you makes you slump further down on the couch, a deep sigh leaving your lips. Damn them for being so caring and being right. You did need sleep. Especially after the nightmares that plagued you all last night, keeping you wide awake to avoid having another. Walking to the door, you hug them goodbye as you see them out. And suddenly, you're left alone with your thoughts. Thoughts that drift back to the nightmares from last night. Of the sounds of children screaming and your own sobs as you look around blindly. Of the smell of fire and smoke, burning trees and wood. And the unmistakable shouts of fury from someone who isn't you.

“I'm gonna be thrown in the looney bin at this rate”, you mumble as you press a hand to your temple, eyes closing and letting out a tired sigh. Every time you had those dreams, those false memories, there would be a person you couldn't see. You could hear him, feel him, but never were you permitted to see his features. It unnerved you a little, seeing these images playing in your mind over and over. Its started to get worse in recent years, the dreams and fake memories coming more often than not nowadays. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, you clean up the small mess on the couch before heading off to bed. It doesn't take long for you to drift off, weariness seeping into your bones and making your eyelids heavy.

“Run! Get the children and get out of here!” The voice yells at you, frantic and in disarray. Hands push at your shoulders, forcing you to turn away.

“Not without you!” You sob desperately, trying hard to look at the source of your worry. Only for his hands to be firm in making you flee.

“I'll find you! Just leave, quickly!” Fire licks at your cheeks as the scene suddenly shifts, now with your arms around something, protecting something. A hand harshly yanks at your hair, pulling you away as you scream and kick, trying to get back to what you were protecting. Sounds of children crying and screaming fill your ears as you look up, heart shattering as you watch the cottage you built with love crumble to the ground, flowers crushing and burning under the lit wood.

“Get away from them!” The voice you know in your heart roars, all boiling rage and dripping despair. “Osborn! I'll rip you apart!” You can hear as he struggles, trying hard to get to you and the children that cry in the distance. A piercing scream rings through the air and now you're falling from up high, tears dripping from your eyes as you gasp. It feels like hundreds of hands are dragging you down, your deadly descent to the ground impending. You reach your hand towards the sky and…

Gasping and clawing at your chest, you shoot upright in your bed. Sweat drenches your sheets and makes your clothes stick to your skin as you choke and gasp for air. You can still feel the ash and smoke in your lungs, feel it cling to your cheeks like a layer of dirt. Your scalp stings, the feeling of hands restraining you still lingering on your skin. Shaking, you bring a trembling hand up to cover your mouth, muffle the wrecked sobs that wrack your frame. That dream just now was too vivid, too real. Tears, hot and thick, fall down your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. It would pass, as it always did. This feeling, these nightmares that you knew was your mind playing tricks on you. It takes several moments before your thundering heartbeat slows, until your body realizes there's no danger. Exhaustion clings to your very bones as the fright from your night terror dies down, leaving you sagging against your pillows once more. You can't even fight against sleep when it comes for you yet again, mind and heart too tired to stay up again. At least this time, you dream a dreamless sleep for once.

Days pass after that night, and you don't utter a word to your friends of the nightmare. You don't want to ruin this day, the idea of a festival making you perk up a bit. You needed some fun to rid you of the terrible screams that went off in your mind like a broken record. Looking in the mirror, you fix the lacy ruffles on your white shirt and fluff out the feathers on your faux white wings. Pinning the glowing halo headband onto your head, you smile at your reflection. Your angel outfit was nice, but it felt like something was missing. Pursing your lips, your eyes drifted down to your bare neck and you snapped your fingers before rummaging through your drawers.

“Come on. I know it's around here somewhere”, you mumble as your fingers blindly feel for the item you're looking for. Feeling the cold metal of the chain, you let out a triumphant huff and pull the necklace from the drawer. It was a long, dainty silver chain with a sparkling ruby in the shape of a tear. Putting it on, you feel a sense of familiarity come over you as you stare at the jewel in the mirror. You're not sure when you had gotten it nor how you obtained it. The only thing you knew was that it held weight over you, meant more to you than most of the other things you've gained in your life. Your gaze lingers on the gem a little longer as a wave of sadness washes over you before you shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts.

“No being sad today. Get it together.” You whisper quietly to yourself, your ears perking as you hear the sound of a car honking outside your apartment. Looking out the window, a grin lights up your face at the sight of your friends waving to you from inside the rental car. After grabbing your keys and wallet, you hurry outside, jumping into the back seat and letting out a low whistle at Riri’s costume. She's dressed as a demon with horns, impish wings and a tail. Red dress stopping at her thigh that's covered with her black fishnet tights, her black leather jacket is adorned with a plethora of pins and buttons. The buckles on her long black combat boots jingle and her black lipstick stained lips pull back in order to smile at you, flashing a pair of fangs.

“Look at you, Ri. Lookin’ hell-a fine.” Her smile drops just as fast as it had appeared.

“I love you, but don't ever do that again.” You laugh before patting her knee. Ned grins at you through the rear view mirror, large spartan helmet covering most of his face. You raise an eyebrow at him before looking at Reni, who's decked out in a white chiton with gold leaves wrapping around her torso. A crown of golden leaves sit on her head, braids wrapped up in a bun and adorned with little gold specks. She flashes you a smile, lips stained a wine red color. The costumes click in your mind and you look at them both with fondness.

“Ares and Aphrodite, hm? How cute.” Riri scoffs at your words before folding her arms, nose scrunched in feigned disgust.

“So cute that it makes me wanna vomit.”

“Oh, shut up, Ri. We look bloody fit and you're just a hater”, Ned says with a smirk as he leans over to press a kiss to Serenity's cheek. You chuckle as you watch Riri pretend to strangle herself, Reni sticking out her tongue at you both. The ride to Gloucestershire is filled with loud joking and sparky remarks, the lot of you eager to see what the Halloween festival has to offer. Once you get there, your eyes widen at just how big the festival actually is. There are dozens of people dressed in all kinds of costumes walking about, fairy lights strewn up on every post. Jack-o-lanterns with wicked smiles sitting on mounds of hay greet you as you walk down the cobblestone path to enter. There are multiple stands with games and food about the place, the prizes you see tempting you. There's a haunted house and a wagon for hayrides, horses waiting patiently. But, what really draws your attention is the giant corn maze way off in the corner.

The slight breeze rustles the stalks of corn, making them sway in the wind. There's no signs nor fancy lights set up in front of the opening, as if it was purposely ostracized. The sight makes you raise an eyebrow in question, your attention fully on the corn maze that seemed to beckon you under the light of the full moon. A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your daze and you smile sheepishly at a confused Reni. She tilts her head and points a thumb over at the balloon popping stand.

“Let's go, mate. They've got this real cute spider plush I know you'll want”, she says in a sing-song voice, eyes shining with a knowing gleam in her eyes. Your eyes lighting up in apparent interest makes her giggle and she loops her arm in yours, leading you over to the stand. Something brushes along the back of your neck and you shiver, glancing over your shoulder back at the maze. Shaking your head, you focus your attention on your friends, determined not to let your episodes get the better of you tonight. Several rounds of balloon popping later, you're holding a giant black spider plush with a huge grin on your face. Your friends watch you with amused expressions and you lean your head on Riri’s shoulder.

“Thanks for winning me the plush, Ri”, you say with a sickening sweetness to your voice while batting your lashes up at her. Which in turn earns you a hand to the face, mushing you as she recoils.

“Ew, go be cute somewhere else”, Riri huffs playfully before pointing over to another stall. “Guys, I want candy corn! Let's go!” Ned gags as he walks beside you two, arm draped over Reni’s shoulder.

“I can't believe you eat that crap. It's so gross.” Riri glares at him and sticks out her tongue, blowing a raspberry at him.

“Whatever. It's not for you, innit. It's for me. Now shut up and pay for it, Neddy boy.” He grumbles under his breath but still relents and pays for it, forever a sap for his favorite people. It makes you smile. After a while of walking around and seeing what each stall has to offer, Ned is the one to pull your small group over to the corn maze you had seen earlier. Sweat drips down the back of your neck as you peer at the dense rows of corn stalks, a sudden feeling of nervousness washing over you. Grinning, he fixes the belt of his costume and gestures to the maze while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Wha’ do you lot say to a little race? Last one out has to buy drinks for everyone. Good?” Before any of you can utter a word, one of the locals that was running the pumpkin carving stand nearby shakes his head. His eyes are dark with an unreadable expression that seems to unsettle you. He waves a finger and points to the thick corn, his voice a dreaded calm.

“I wouldn't go there if I were you. Too many visitors go in every year. Very little come out of the bloody thing.” He lifts his hands then, wriggling his fingers and a deep grimace appearing on his lips. If he was trying to scare you, his little act was doing a poor job. “There's a legend. Of a demon prince who was banished to the mortal realm and forced to sit as a scarecrow for the rest of his days as a punishment. For what, nobody knows.” The man slams his hands down on the table then, eyes wide and startling the poor customers who were carving their pumpkins.

“They say if you go into his maze without a light source and make even the smallest of sounds, Mr. Crow Buster will come for you. And feast on your very soul.” The story makes you want to laugh but you bite back the giggle and smile at him. Your friends, however, burst out laughing and keel over. Reni holds onto your arm as she wheezes and the man glares at her, folding his arms and waiting for them to finish. You shake your head and look at him apologetically as you hold your friend up.

“Oh… Oh my days”, Ned heaves out as he tries to reign in the loud chortles of amusement. Taking a deep breath, he looks over at the man and nods his head.

“Alright, mate. That was a good one.” The man scowls and narrows his eyes at you four.

“It's true! There's been numerous disappearances every year whenever people go into that maze. But, be my guest. Don't say I didn't bloody warn you.” He grumbles before turning back to man his stand. His words make you a bit nervous, the idea of people going missing in the maze making you hesitant to go in. Even though you're already so very drawn to it, like something was coercing you into stepping inside. Riri shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she turns towards the maze.

“Some people are just bonkers”, she mumbles as she walks closer to the maze, peering into it with a twinkle in her eyes. You watch as your friends walk closer to the start of it, clearly very ready to race to the finish line. Anxiety gnaws at your stomach as you linger a few paces behind them, gazing into how the corn splits into five different paths. Hands fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt, you clear your throat.

“Did you see the look in his eyes, though? He was serious when he said people have been disappearing…” You say quietly, pressing your face against Reni’s shoulder. Serenity chuckles and pats your cheek softly.

“Absolute rubbish. If there were disappearances, the festival wouldn't keep happenin’, right?” Reni says as she fixes the gold bracelet on her wrist. She had a point. Still, you couldn't shake this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. You step back away from them a bit and they all turn around to look at you with confusion.

“E-Even if that's the case, I think I'll just stay out here. Watch everyone's things, ya know?” You say with a sheepish smile, only for Riri and Ned to laugh. Riri folds her arms and raises an eyebrow at you, a teasing smirk on her lips.

“Seriously? Come now. I thought you were better than this, Y/N! Letting a silly rumor get the better of you…” Riri shakes her head and clicks her tongue in mock disappointment. It makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and slight irritation. Frowning, you place your hands on your hips and glare at her.

“I don't have to participate in this stupid race if I don't want to, Ri.” She holds up her hands in mock surrender and smirks at you, only furthering your growing irritation.

“Of course, of course. We understand if it's too much for you to handle, little dove”, Ned says, snickering as he leans against the wooden post outside the maze. You can feel your eye twitching at the nickname. They knew how much you absolutely loathe that name, the simple words always triggering your flight or fight sense for some odd reason. You shoot him a warning glare and open your mouth to speak before Reni pipes up, a giggle of words escaping her lips.

“Little dove, so quick to fly away when in front of a challenge. Don't worry. We understand.” Her soft words make you grit your teeth, anger swirling in your chest as you glare at them all. Without a word, you place your plush near the opening and grab one of the flashlights in a bin by the start of the maze. Flicking it on, you narrow your eyes at them all, scoffing at the accomplished look on their faces before silently trudging into the maze.

You each take different paths, separated from one another. As you stomp down the path, the feeling of unease comes back, washing away the fury that had been there before. It's silent, save for the whistling of the wind. And yet… Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, you remember what the man at the stall had said. You'd be fine as long as you stayed quiet and had a light source, easy peasy. Unfortunately for you your flashlight begins to flicker, light blinking on and off. Alarms ring in your head as you shake the tool in your hands, hoping that it's only a loose battery or a short or something. You didn't know how flashlights worked, dammit. Only that if it flickered out, you'd be left in the dark with nothing but the moon as your guide. Your heart plummets when it slowly stops its blinking, light no longer shining down the path before you. You can feel your heart thundering in your ears as you slowly trudge on, eyes frantically moving about as the urban legend replays over and over in your mind.

“Shit!” You cry out loudly as you suddenly trip over something then, falling onto your knees on the dirt road. Scowling, you turn to see what had made you fall, only for your eyes to widen at seeing a lone gray sneaker. Your breath stills as you slowly get up, dirt clinging to your knees as you study the shoe. Why was there only one and where in the world was it's owner? Crows shoot up from the corn in the distance, cawing and flying high into the air. The sound startles you and you look up as they fly away. Sweat beads at your brow, knowing something had to frighten the birds for a flock of them to suddenly just up and leave. Rubbing at your arms, you continue walking, even as the air seems to grow colder around you. Growing fed up and nerves worsening the longer you spent trudging through this maze, you take a deep breath and cut through the tall stalks of corn.

You can feel as your shirt snags onto the stalks as you walk, the feathers of your faux wings falling onto the ground. Scowling, you mentally curse your friends for egging you on, then you curse yourself for entertaining their jabs in the first place. It feels like hours trudging through the leaves until you suddenly stumble upon a clearing, surrounded completely by stalks of corn. In the middle sits a lone scarecrow, hanging up by its hands and feet on a pole. Straw sticks out of its large hat, bundles of hay surrounding its hands and feet like the hem of clothing. You raise your eyebrow at it curiously before you inhale sharply, eyes widening and heart pounding so hard in your chest that you swear it aches. Because there's no way that it's looking straight at you, is there? But it is, it's head slowly turning to the side to fully look at you, long lanky arms falling limply at its sides as it continues to stare. You can't move, can't even blink as you stare back at the living scarecrow, terror and dread welling up inside your chest. You suddenly recall your earlier slip up, lips trembling with fear.

The scarecrow tilts its head which makes its entire weight lean forward. Slowly, it tumbles forward onto the ground, body rolling into itself as it sprawls on the dirt. It doesn't move for several heartbeats, minutes that seem like an eternity. Lanky limbs twitching and lifting up, its movements are lanky and erratic as it picks itself up, back now facing you. A whimper leaves your lips as it's head turns completely around to face you fully, the sound of creaking twigs snapping reminding you too much of wet bone. Its limbs whip around as it rights itself, turning to you correctly now, its head tilting as it takes a wobbly step forward. That's all it takes to send you sprinting, dashing and zipping through the dense stalks of corn.

Hot tears of terror streak down your cheeks and blur your vision a bit as you weave through the corn, breath coming out in harsh pants as you run from the creature. A loud roar pierces through the night, ringing in your ears and sounding close to a growl. You take the chance as quickly glance behind your shoulder, crying out in horror as you see the scarecrow hot on your trail, running at you on all fours with its head turned upside down. The painted face on it morphs then teeth turning razor sharp and blood seeping from its mouth. Eyes now gaping black holes, it cackles wickedly before lunging at you. You scream and duck just as it jumps at you, quickly running away in a different direction. Just when you think you're going to make it, your fake wings get stuck on a stalk of corn. You pull and pull with all your might, frightened tears dripping down your shirt as the scarecrow steadily draws near, now running at you on its legs. It moves like a ragdoll, limp and janky and no less terrifying. You finally manage to pull away from the plant, wing now damaged as you move to run again.

Hands roughly grab your arms and you scream as you're turned around to face the creature who opens its dripping, bloody maw. And as you peer up at the source of your demise, you're suddenly lying in a field of flowers, hands lovingly caressing your skin. Lips press against your cheek as you close your eyes, the scene once again shifting back to the creature before you. Clenching your eyes shut, you await death with a heavy heart. Only, confusion fills you as you continue to hear your heartbeat in your ears. Trembling, you wait for several more minutes that feel like an eternity, waiting for the painful sensation of teeth on your flesh or however it goes. Only to feel a warm hand pressing against your cheek gently. Flinching, you wrench your eyes open and feel your very breath being stolen from your lungs at the sight of the stranger.

Standing before you is a man so beautiful that you can't believe your eyes. He looks at you with wide golden eyes, surprise gleaming in them as he gazes down at you. Piercings that look like thumbtacks litter his face, hair in wicks that look like straw. He smells of hay and something else, like cashmeran. Something about his expression seems sad as he gazes at you and you suddenly feel more at ease than you have in months. His presence brings about a calming effect that would worry you if you weren't so lost in his golden gaze, liquid and warm as he stares at you. Taking a deep breath, you look him over slowly, breath hitching at the sight of his clothes, the same ones that the scarecrow was wearing. Lips trembling, you peer back up at him.

“Y-You're not gonna eat me…?” You whisper softly, still a little shaken up. The man chuckles softly and you feel your cheeks grow warm underneath his palm, heart fluttering at how deep and pleasant his voice sounded just from that alone.

“I was goin’ to, but 's not everyday I get such a gorgeous angel visiting my little place ‘ere.” His mumbled words almost make you swoon a bit, but you can't help the sudden snort that leaves you at his words. His eyebrow raises in question as you place a hand over your lips to muffle your chuckles, a grin flitting across his face as he watches you laugh. His fingers on your cheek tap at your skin as he looks at you.

“Somethin’ funny, darlin’?”

“Sorry, sorry. I just… You're a demon, right?” He nods his head, removing his hands from you to stuff them in his pockets. You don't dwell on how your heart flops a little in disappointment for some odd reason.

“And you're not eating my soul or whatnot because I'm dressed like an angel…?”

“Hey, I got morals, innit. Feastin’ on angels means I gotta go to the Hells and I ain't tryn’ to burn for eternity. Ya get me?” You can't help the laugh that leaves you at that and he chuckles as you hold your stomach. A demon with humor, who knew? You gaze up at him with a curious gleam in your eyes and you tilt your head.

“What's your name Mr. Demon with morals?” His lopsided grin as he lifts your hand to his lips makes your head spin, heart pounding in your chest as he places a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“The name's Hobie, love. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Hobie leads you out of the corn maze after that, the two of you talking during the walk to the exit. His company is welcoming and not at all like the frightening terror he was earlier. And, even though he had been trying to devour your soul at first, you couldn't wipe the smile off of your lips the whole time you talked with him. He was funny and sweet and so very handsome. Perhaps it was strange how utterly safe you felt with him, how you wished his hand would grip yours as you walked. You couldn't help it, though. Hobie had this gentle air about him, an aura that nestled you in a blanket of warmth. The moon shined down brightly on you two as you neared the exit, disappointment coiling in your stomach. You wanted to talk with him more, learn more about the strange demon who seemed to captivate you. Stopping a ways ahead of the exit, Hobie turns to you and softly grips your hands in his, fingers intertwining with your own. It makes your breath hitch and your heart flutter as you gaze up at him. His golden eyes glitter like the stars above and you think you're imagining the adoration shining within those lipid pools of his.

“Come see me again, angel…?” He whispers softly, face leaning down until it was inches from your own. You bat your lashes up at him and bite your lip, nodding slowly.

“I-I can… I will. As long as you don't eat my soul.” He chuckles lowly and your eyes flutter shut as he presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, leaving you breathless. Hobie presses a hand against your cheek and you sigh as you nuzzle your face into his palm.

“You drive a hard bargain, love. I promise not to eat your very tasty, very scrumptious lookin’ soul. Till next time, darlin’.” The next time you open your eyes, he's nowhere to be found, nothing but the silence of the corn stalks greets you. Your eyes linger at the spot he was just at, wondering if it had been a dream, another one of your fake memories playing tricks on you. An arm wraps around your shoulders then and you startle as you look at the one who grabbed you. Reni looks over you with growing concern, her hands cupping your face.

“Oh my days, we're so sorry for pressuring you into goin’ in there! You look a right mess. What happened?” Ned and Riri crowd around you as well and you chuckle, pulling away from Serenity's hands.

“I'm okay, guys, really. Let's just enjoy the rest of the festival, okay?” They shared looks of concern before looking at you with a gleam in their eyes. Like they knew something happened. You just walk ahead of them to another stall with a huge smile on your face, waving a hand at them for them to hurry up. And when some random person comes up to you and tells you that they like your fallen angel costume, you feel something inside you click into place. Though you wouldn't figure that out until much later.

“Evening, your Highness.”

“Cut the bullshit, Ri. You never call me that.”

“You're right. Perhaps I should start saying your Majesty, with how well everything's been going.” Hobie rolls his eyes at the cambion grinning up at him, a smile playing on his lips despite himself. His thoughts drift to you, the feeling of seeing you again after all this time... After nearly a century of longing for you, he'd finally gotten to touch you again. And to think his soul starved mind was begging him to feast on that glittering soul of yours, a soul that shined way too bright for just a mere human. It all made sense when he saw your eyes, your exquisite face. It was no human, it was you. His love, his angel, the one who he'd take any number of punisments for regardless of the severity of them. Riri sighs and leans up against his post, checking her nails as her tail swishes back and forth. Her voice pulls him out of his musings.

“Bet you're excited at gettin’ your true form back. How's being a scarecrow been, by the way? Riveting?” A chuckle sounds to his left and he turns to glare at the Crow demon, Riri waving at the new arrivals. Ned looks up at his prince with an amused smirk, dark feathers rustling with his every movement.

“Gotta say, Hobes. The scarecrow look is good for you. Fits with you being so skinny and lanky. You like it, don't you boss man?” He says as Serenity giggles beside him, the succubus wrapping her tail around Ned's leg.

“Not sure. How'd you like my foot up your ass, hm?” Hobie sneers down at him. Ned winces and shakes his head, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Sounds awful. For you, I mean. It's just gonna break right off into a pile of straw, innit?”

“Oh wow. You havin’ a laugh? Good. Cause if you don't have my intel, you're not gonna be laughin’ in a second.” Hobie huffs as he glares down at his crew of misfits, his words just an empty threat. As much as his friends like to joke with him, they were his family and always did right by him. Serenity rolls her eyes and sits on top of Ned's shoulder, fingers fiddling in his hair.

“Osborn is getting weaker by the day and the other rebel archangels sent word that they're ready to dethrone him in three months' time. Seeing as your angel's memories are coming more often than before, I'd say it's a perfect time to return home.” Serenity looks up at their prince with a wicked grin on her face, fangs on full display. Nodding his head, he looks over at Riri, eyebrow raised and golden eyes slowly turning to slits.

“The location of my children?”

“In your father's realm deep beneath his palace, locked up and frozen in time still. Ready and waiting. Along with our rebel army ready to fight under your name. What say you, your Majesty…?” She says, lips curling into a smile. Rolling his neck, joints popping and golden eyes bleeding into the darkest of crimson, Hobie grins wickedly. His fangs elongate, sharp nails clawing at his wooden post as he molts out of his straw body. Spider legs unfurl from his back, black as night and deadly sharp, glinting under the light of the moon above. On his neck shines a tear shaped sapphire, dangling on a silver chain.

“First”, he snarls as a portal to the Hells opens up in front of the four, “we take over my father's domain. I get my Angel, I get my kids, and I fucking devour that bitch Osborn. Any questions?” They all shake their heads as they excitedly pull out their weapons. Riri pulls out the twin daggers strapped to her hips, Ned brandishing his flaming metal staff and Serenity's fingernails elongating into claws. The smell of fire and brimstone hits their noses as the four walk towards the portal, eyes raging with a furious storm.

“Then let's go kill ourselves a devil.”

[littleseasiren]

Wait you love me?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of language, then fluff

Words: Just over 900 words

A/N: Welcome to day 3 of Flufftober. Prompt: "Wait you love me?" "I always have". Thanks @flufftober for this interesting challenge. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list. Thanks for reading!

The drive home from the restaurant was quiet - too quiet. You had a magical night with Bucky, having fun watching a movie and then a lovely dinner at a sophisticated restaurant that Bucky had chosen. He knew you didn't need anything fancy, but he still went out of his way to spoil you often. The evening was going perfectly until it wasn't anymore.

Your dessert had just been placed in front of you when it started. You were having a slice of cheesecake while Bucky chose a chocolate lava cake when it happened. Bucky was giving you a bite of his dessert when a group of young men walked in and took the table next to you. When they saw Bucky's metal arm, they started whispering between themselves. It had taken you and the others months to get Bucky comfortable without wearing gloves, only for this one moment to ruin all his hard work accepting his metal arm.

At first, Bucky pretended he couldn't hear their whispers, but as their voices grew louder, even you could hear them commenting on Bucky's history as the Winter Soldier. You wanted to kick their ass, but Bucky begged you to ignore them. He didn't want to make a scene and asked you not to either. The two of you quickly finished your desserts, Bucky paid, and now you were stuck in a car so thick with silence, that you felt like you might choke on it.

"Bucky, those guys don't have any idea what they're talking about, don't let it go to your head. You're not him anymore."

"Hmm," Bucky mumbles, eyes focusing on the road ahead. His hands grip the steering wheel so tight that you're afraid he'll snap it right off.

Not knowing what to do, you try to give him space to calm down.

"Bucky, talk to me," you ask as you help him take off his suit jacket.

The two of you are back in your shared room, alone at last. Sometimes it's difficult staying in the tower with the other Avengers, everyone wanted to know how your date went, what you did, things like that. They genuinely wanted to know if you had fun, but you just wanted to get your boyfriend alone.

"There's nothing to talk about, doll. Everything is fine," Bucky says softly as he turns and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He's turned away from you, but you can still hear the hurt in his voice.

"Everything's not fine. I know you, Bucky. I don't want to push you -"

"Then don't! I told you, I'm fine!" Bucky barks out, his brows lowered and lip set in a harsh line as he throws his shirt on the chair. He sits down on the side of the bed and starts removing his shoes.

"The hell you are! I don't know what they said but I know you heard it and that it's going to your head, making you question everything." You stand in front of him, still wearing all your clothes, not willing to back down from this.

Bucky's anger disappears almost instantly. "Exactly, you have no idea what they said." He lowers his head as he takes a deep breath. When his eyes meet yours, they are cold and full of determination.

"This is just becoming a bit much, I thought I was ready for a relationship but I guess not." When your brows narrow in confusion, he looks away instantly.

"This is becoming too much? You mean me?" You feel like your heart is breaking, as moisture gathers on the corners of your eyes.

"I mean this relationship." When he won't look at you, you feel the first tear drop down your cheek. Things had been going great between you two. How could he say that to you now? No, you won't accept this.

"Bullshit!" You lunge for him, hitting him on the chest when he stands up to stop you. "You don't get to decide that! I don't care what those men said, I'm not letting you leave me!"

Bucky grabs your arms, holding them still so you'll stop pounding on his chest. "I care! I'm not good enough for you, you should find someone else to be with. Someone better!"

"There's no one better for me Bucky! Why are you saying this?" Your tears are running freely now, his words hurting more than you can take.

"Because I love you! You deserve the world, not some assassin with seventy years of blood on his hands!"

You still in his arms, his words sinking in slowly. "Wait, you love me?" You meet his tired gaze, daring him to take back his words.

"I always have." He says it so simply, like it's the one truth he is sure of in his life.

"Bucky, I love you too. I don't want to be with anyone else. You are the man I love, this Bucky. I don't care what happened in the past, I just want to be part of your future." When he lets go of your arms, you gently cup his cheek, sighing with relief when he rubs against your hand.

"Say it again? Please?" His arm wraps around your middle, pulling you closer to his strong body.

You gaze deep into his blue eyes, letting him see the truth in your eyes. "I love you, Bucky. And you love me. I'm not going to let anything keep us apart."

"I love you so much, doll. I never meant to hurt you, I'm so sorry," he says as he pulls you onto the bed next to him. You lay beside him, willing to take anything the world throws at you, as long as he keeps loving you.

@morganmofresh

@dottirose

@cjand10

@buggy14

@crazyunsexycool

@tripleoyaa

@mandijo17

@fluffysucker

@moviegurl2002

[randomyuu]

so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

[lythea-creation]

The Honor Of A Slytherin - Platonic Hermione Granger x fem reader

summary: Hermione is surprised to say the least when a Slytherin suddenly stands up for her

warnings: bullying

word count: 848

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

Requested? Yes

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

I was on my way to class when I heard the rustle. Another fight between Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Honestly I did not get it. Why did people have to be so narrow-minded?

As Slytherins prefect it felt like my duty to intervene. So I made my way over to the students fighting. Or rather Draco Malfoy bullying a Gryffindor girl.

I did not really know what this was about, but I did know Draco Malfoy. It was hard not to know him actually as he was behaving like a prince.

“What's going on here?”, I inquired when I arrived.

The girl looked up at me with spite in her eyes. I raised my eyebrow at that.

“That little mudblood just got on our nerves”, Draco declared.

I sighed at his choice of wording. “You really shouldn't talk like that”, I scolded him.

“Who do you think you are?”, he challenged me with a glare, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

How could a twelve-year-old be so cocky?

I smirked down at him, being easily a head taller than him. “Who do you think you are, talking to anyone like that? Do you seriously think you're better than her just because your family consists of wizards and witches? Could you beat her in a fair fight then? Or in an exam?”, I questioned.

I had no idea who that girl was, but the huge book she was carrying with her told me that she was hard-working.

The death glare he was sending me was kinda cute actually. I had put up with a lot of bullies before. My best friends were muggleborn and had therefore received many snarky remarks and even more. But this was just hilarious.

“Just go and leave her alone, Draco”, I advised him.

“You dare talk to me like that? Do you know who my father is?”, he threatened me.

“Of course I know”, I noted with a scoff. “He's a weak man who can only handle himself through connections, just like you.”

I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears at my comments.

From the corner of my eyes I could see the Gryffindor girl chuckling.

“If you don't mind I would like to head to class now. So do all of us a favor and just cut this childish behavior”, I requested.

Now he was furious, relying on his friends to stand a chance against me. But he had no idea who I was.

Their pathetic attempt at a spell was quickly deflected by me. Their wands were in my hand before they could even think of another spell.

“Hey! Give them back!”, Draco protested.

“I'll let Professor McGonagall deal with this. So if you don't want to get into any more trouble than you already are, you should leave now and go to class”, I considered.

They cursed as they walked away, but I could not care less. They were like little puppies making a scene, thinking they were a grown-up shepherd dog.

“Thanks for helping me out”, the Gryffindor girl proposed.

“No big deal”, I brushed it off. “I'm (f/n) by the way. If they make any more trouble you can always come to me. I'm the Slytherin prefect anyway.”

“I'm Hermione. Honestly I didn't know there were kind Slytherins as well”, she admitted.

“You shouldn't judge too quickly”, I remarked. “Our reputation is way ahead of most of us.”

“Yeah, I see that now. Are you a muggleborn as well?”, she wondered.

“No. Actually I'm a pureblood, but I don't really care about this whole blood status nonsense. It doesn't mean anything”, I pointed out.

“Doesn't feel like it sometimes”, Hermione mumbled.

I placed my hand on her shoulder to comfort her. “Don't let them drag you down! I'm sure you'll become a great witch. It doesn't matter what they think. As long as you have people who love you the way you are, that's all you need. You're a Gryffindor, right? Hold your head up high.”

She was beaming at my words as if I had just ignited a new fire inside her.

“I will”, she promised. “Thanks again.”

With those words she walked away to class.

I was going to be late. Great …

I hurried through the corridors until I arrived and opened the door.

“You're late, Miss (l/n)”, Professor McGonagall noted.

“I'm sorry, Professor. There was a fight between the second years and I couldn't just walk by. Draco Malfoy and his friends attacked me by the way. So I took their wands with me”, I explained and handed her their wands.

My professor smiled proudly at me. I was one of her best students. So she knew I was not just messing around.

“Alright then. Take your seat and try this new spell then. You can tell me more about this incident after class”, she suggested.

In the end I got the house points back we lost thanks to Malfoy.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @vashwood-anthology! I wanted to do a bit more of a comedic piece for Vashwood, though Trigun being trigon, angst still found its way in…This story fought me so much along the way, I wasn’t fully settled on how to end it and every time I reread the story I kept adding scenes.

Which is not a good thing with a word count. XD I’m not sure if I’m fully satisfied with it yet, but if I read it again…who knows how much more I’ll add. XD

I'm so glad I got to work with the amazing @wisedo for this piece! Their art is perfect and so comedically on point <3

…

…

…

…

Nicholas had a stalker.

Probably.

Leaning back in his plastic chair, his feet on a tiny fold-out table, Nicholas slurped loudly from his slushie as he studied his surroundings. Fortunately, the food court was packed with people, so no one was paying attention to him—

“Mom! He’s putting his feet on the table!”

“And if you act like that, Santa won’t be giving you any presents.”

—most people weren’t paying attention to him. Awkwardly, Nicholas put his feet down before anyone else wandered by.

For the most part, he was surrounded by strangers. It made sense: he was a traveller who hadn’t been in the city for more than a few days. It’d be odder if he had recognized anyone here. That was how it was in most cities he’d visited—Nicholas made his living as a travelling handy-man, an entertaining busker, an overly relaxed priest. Whatever paid the bills as he spent his days wandering from town to town.

His eyes landed on a familiar, spiky-haired blond.

Familiar. That was the problem here. While the man was scarfing down donuts like he was competing in an eating contest, not paying attention to Nicholas in the least, he was the epitome of suspicious. It was rare enough for Nicholas to meet anyone twice, let alone thrice, and this was the fifth time he’d spotted that particular hedgehog of hair.

Hence, he was ninety-percent certain he was being stalked.

This required investigation. Nicholas smirked as he noisily sucked his straw. With how sloppy the guy was, it would be easy enough to trap him.

“Dad, there’s nothing in his cup anymore!”

“Shh, honey, inflation’s hitting hard these days.”

…maybe he should find a more discrete place to capture the stalker.

-x-

Nicholas tugged his collar, trying to fan in a little air onto his neck.  Most people would question why he’d take up buskering of all things in a suit, and they would be right. It was a stupid idea. He regretted it entirely. Between the heat and how it impaired his movements, it would have been better to wear literally anything else.

Unfortunately, all he owned were suits. At least he didn’t have a single tie, or he’d really be dying.

Flipping a dagger between his fingers, Nicholas put on his widest smile and called out, “I can hit anything!” After a pause, he added. “Great with daggers and funerals!”

It was a terrible sales pitch. He couldn’t really blame people for continuing to stream past him. His last few attempts were equally pitiful and the small white paper cup in front of him was as empty as ever. All it’d take was a little wind and it’d roll down the street, along with his last two quarters.

He’d need a more innovative speech. He’d need—

The blonde stranger was here too. Nicholas narrowed his eyes. Purposely ignoring his gaze, the stranger paced back and forth further down the street as he deftly juggled five balls. Once, Nicholas had done a stint as a circus clown and anything past 4 items was harder than it looked. The dirty hat in front of stranger looked just as empty as Nicholas’ cup.

Nicholas grinned. Maybe he could get two birds with one stone.

Slowly, he sauntered over, each step deliberate and slow. The blonde tensed slightly when Nicholas stopped in front of him, unable to completely mask his reaction.

So he did know Nicholas. Good. He didn’t want to accidentally harass a stranger. Nicholas called out, trying to keep the malice out of his voice, “Looks like you’re having just as hard a time as I am.”

Fortunately, the blonde didn’t pick up on his intentions. He glanced over his shoulder. Realizing no one was behind him, he stared at Nicholas in surprise. “Me?”

“Who else?” Nicholas rolled his eyes. If anything, judging by the bullet holes and dirt riddling the bottom of the stranger’s red jacket, he probably was having a worse time. While Nicholas had been chased out of a town or two, he’d never been in that much danger.

“Oh. Right.” The blonde chuckled and smiled sheepishly. He nodded, still juggling. The five colorful balls flew through the air like parts of a rainbow. “It’s a hard street.”

“It’d be easier if we worked together,” Nicholas suggested.

The blonde’s eyes widened slightly before he took the bait. Excited, he juggled faster. “Yeah! I’ve always wanted to do paired jugg—”

Nicholas smirked wolfishly before shouting, “Anyone want to see me throw a dagger at this guy?”

“—ling  with—Wait, what?” The blonde froze and gaped at Nicholas like a fish out of water. Five balls bounced off his head like bullets. “You’re going to what?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ve done this before,” he assured his new ‘partner’. Already, a crowd had started to gather around them, mostly comprised of blood-thirsty children dragging their parents over. Even better; children were easy enough to entertain.

“It’s a challenge,” Nicholas said louder now, directed at the audience. He ignored the stalker’s pointed glare. ”I’ll put an apple on—what’s your name?”

“Vash,” Vash replied, forcing a smile when everyone stared at him.

“Vash’s head,” Nicholas continued. Now he had a name at least. “And then I’ll toss a dagger at it and try not to hit him.”

“What do you mean try!?” Vash shouted.

“It’s no big deal,” Nicholas whispered as he turned around. Digging in his knapsack, he pulled out an apple and tossed it at Vash. “Just make sure to stay still and it’ll work out.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Vash asked, staring at the apple doubtfully.

Nicholas shrugged, unconcerned. “Once? I think.”

“Once?” Vash bit out. The audience had surrounded them at this point and there was no easy escape this time. “Wait, maybe we can find something else, less risky, like jugg—”

“People want to see knife-throwing.” Nicholas spun Vash around and shoved him forward. “Now, get a little further or people’ll think I cheated.”

It was like a scene from an old western: two men, twenty paces apart. Vash stood stock still, an apple on his head, his smile nervous as he watched Nicholas. For his part, Nicholas kept a hand on his waist, ready to draw his dagger, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the gleaming red skin of his target. Around them, a circle had formed. People murmured as they made bets on how many holes Vash would end up with.

A kid laughed. As though that was the secret signal he’d been waiting for, Nicholas quickly drew and tossed his dagger. The blade narrowly grazed Vash’s right cheek, cutting a thin red line, and to the man’s credit, he recoiled after that, the apple rolling off his head and landing on the sand with a soft thud as he clutched his cheek.

That was an act.

Nicholas had done enough scams to know when he was being played. There were many issues with Vash’s terrible acting, the biggest of which was the fact that he’d hadn’t flinched until after the dagger had missed him. Most people would have instinctively tried to dodge as soon as Nicholas had thrown the weapon.

Vash had known it wouldn’t hit him.

“That stings!” Vash yelped, gingerly petting the wound with the pads of his fingers. As he picked up the apple, he gazed teary-eyed at Nicholas. “You hit me!”

“Barely,” he replied, already twirling another dagger between his fingers as he waited for Vash to put the apple back in place. “It makes it more thrilling. The crowd gets a show.” He flicked another knife, this time grazing his ear. “So, why’re you following me?”

“I’m not!” Vash yelped as he dodged dagger number three. He jabbed at the apple that was miraculously still on his head. The crowd jeered, some of them yelling at him to just stay still and get hit. “The apple! Aim for the apple!”

“I am,” Nicholas lied, pulling out dagger number four. “And don’t lie—I’ve seen you before.”

“Really, you remember me?” Vash grinned stupidly before realizing what he’d just admitted. “Wait, I mean, I’ve seen one of your shows!  I’m a fan!”

Nicholas scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he carefully held his blade between two fingers, his hand rocking back and forth as he aimed. If it had just been one show, he wouldn’t have recognized Vash at all. “Is that all?”

“It is!”  Vash was a terrible liar. His eyes gave everything away.

Deliberately, Nicholas lowered his aim, the blade pointing at Vash’s crotch now. The crowd gasped expectantly. “You sure?”

Vash crouched and crossed his hands in front of his pants, tears forming in his eyes as he shouted, “I thought you were also going to the Octovern Busker Festival!”

Despite his fear, his voice had held steady. While it wasn’t the whole truth, it wasn’t a lie either. Nicholas sighed, relenting, and flicked his knife, sinking the blade into the apple.

-x-

The crowd had all dispersed, leaving behind a tin filled with stray coins, a nail, and two coupons. Nicholas grimaced as he shook the can. Nothing else fell out. Cheapskates. He glanced up at the very worn Vash. “So you’re lost.”

“Yes…” Vash rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile. He pulled out a crinkled poster from his pocket and handed it to Nicholas. “I’m not very good with directions.”

He sounded oddly proud of it. Nicholas rolled his eyes as he scanned the paper. He’d heard of the festival before. “And you didn’t think to ask anyone else?”

“Well…it’s embarrassing,” Vash admitted. So he knew that much at least. “I thought you’d also be going there…since, you busker.”

“And you couldn’t just ask instead of stalk?” Nicholas held out the handful of coins they’d earned. The people in this city were stingier than any other he’d been in. “I don’t even do that often—this barely paid for the apple.”

Vash gazed at the money, puzzled. “But it’s not about the money.”

Nicholas’s jaw dropped. “The hell it’s not about the money, money is—”

A kid ran between them, bumping into Nicholas. Nicholas caught a glimpse of the ragmuffin with her short, messy hair and dirt on her face as she mumbled an apology.

“Kids these days—” His hand felt light. Nicholas stared at his now-empty palm. His other hand instinctively patted his also now-empty pocket. Immediately, he jumped to his feet and swore. “Fuck.”

Slow to catch on, Vash stared at the girl as she turned a corner into an alley. “Huh?”

“She mugged me.” Nicholas sprinted forward. A suit was the worst thing to run in and not for the first time, he regretted his life choices. “GET BACK HERE!”

“But she’s so young!” Vash shouted as he chased after.

“It’s easier to slip unnoticed.” Nicholas barreled down the alley, catching a glimpse of the girl’s dirty shirt before she turned a corner. His armpits were damp, his pants complaining with each step, and he didn’t know if he could go any faster.

While he’d visited December once before, he’d never taken the side alleys before. It was like a maze of corridors back here, the streets getting narrower and grimier as the girl eluded his grasp. From the corner of his eye, he spotted several children poking their heads out of nooks and crannies, a hungry look in their faces that he had known himself long ago.

One kid stepped out of the shadows and threw a rock at him. “Leave her alone!”

Nicholas dodged. “She’s with you?”

“I think I’m even more lost,” Vash panted, almost running into the kid as he caught up. The startled kid yelped, stumbling over his feet. Vash grabbed his shoulders, steadying him. “Woah, careful there!”

“Let go of me!” The boy shouted, terrified. When Vash’s grip proved too strong to escape, he screamed, “HELP!”

The girl had almost vanished down a side street but pivoted at the sound. Fear in her eyes, she ran back. “Darian! Don’t hurt him!”

Perfect. Nicholas snatched her as she bolted past him, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up before she could escape. “Gotcha.”

She squirmed, her flailing limbs hitting his chin and sides. “Hey! Let go of me”!

“Just gimme a moment.” Nicholas wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his jaw. With some training, she’d have a killer punch. The girl was like a wildcat, and he almost dropped her reflexively as she struggled in his grip. Meanwhile her accomplice had frozen stiff in front of Vash, too scared to even make a peep.

“You okay?” Vash asked, crouching in front of the kid and peering up with concern. “Did you get hurt?”

“Leave him alone!” the girl shouted again, her struggles increasing.

Two street urchins. Orphaned siblings, most likely. Nicholas had been there before, had seen it before. “Don’t bit me, kid,” he warned as he released her before she could throw another stray punch.

Scrambling to her feet, the girl ran to her brother and yanked him away from Vash. It was like looking at a cornered cat. His wallet was still tight in her grip.

Nicholas sighed. “Just try not to get caught next time.” Vash and the kids stared at him. Rolling his shoulders to get the crick out of them, he added, “The next guy won’t be as soft as me.”

“Nicholas…” Starry-eyed, Vash covered his mouth.

“I’m not giving this back,” the girl hissed.

“Don’t,” Nicholas agreed. “You need it more.”

The siblings looked at each other, communicating silently, before giving him one last suspicious squint. Then they bolted, shoving past Vash and disappearing into the slums. Nicholas watched them before feeling a shiver run up his back. Turning around, he found Vash still giving him that awestruck stare.

“You’re a lot kinder than you act.” Vash smiled.

It was a nice smile. Nicholas shrugged. “I’ve been there before.”

“Oh.” For some unfathomable reason, Vash’s smile flickered, misery clouding his eyes.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like it. “I’m better now,” Nicholas clarified. “And they can eat for a few days with what I had if they’re careful.” He turned his empty pockets inside out. “More than I can say for me. I need a drink.”

-x-

A drink did not solve his problems. In fact, they just made them worse—even if he hadn’t lost his wallet, the tab he’d opened was bigger than the amount he’d lost. For a twig of a man, Vash drank like a bottomless pit. No one would call Nicholas a lightweight, but even he was starting to feel it.

Maybe they could wash dishes here for the next three months to pay it off. There’s no way Vash was carrying enough to cover both of them.

Nicholas ran his finger over the rim of his mug. He shot Vash a disbelieving look. “How did you get nearly get mugged three times on the way here.”

“Oh, I…” Vash chuckled as he took a sip, his ears turning a fetching shade of red. “It’s a gift.”

“A curse,” Nicholas corrected. He elbowed Vash. First there was the little old lady crossing the street, then there was the kid with a cat stuck in a tree—Nicholas was certain that if they ran across a mother with a stroller, the baby would try to rob Vash next. “And that wasn’t a compliment. Do you really have to help everyone you meet?”

“Whyyyy not?” Vash slurred, putting down his now empty glass.

“Another one!” Nicholas ordered loudly, as though they weren’t at the bar with the bartender right across from them.

As though the bartender hadn’t been shooting them increasingly irate glares as the night wore on. “I should just cut you off,” she said.

Probably, but it was a matter of pride that Nicholas didn’t finish before Vash. “Another one!” he repeated, louder.

“Me too,” Vash cheered. He seemed drunk, but it was an act. It had to be. His hands were too steady to be anything but sober.

Disgruntled, the bartender reluctantly grabbed two more glasses. “Fine, but last one. Then you’re out.”

It reminded Nicholas of a song. “You don’t have to go home—”

“—but you can’t stay here,” Vash finished.

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Nicholas wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re not half bad, for a stalker.”

“You’re amazing.” Vash clinked his glass against Nicholas’s.

Maybe he hadn’t been joking when he’d said he was a fan. And he certainly wasn’t dangerous in the least—no one could get attacked that many times without losing their temper, yet Vash had shrugged off everything that had happened him the past few hours. Whatever Vash was hiding, it couldn’t be anything bad.

“You’re exaggerating,” Nicholas muttered, downing his drink.

‘I’m not,” Vash replied quietly, oddly somber, oddly serious.

Before he could ask, the bartender slid a check between them. She tapped on the bill with a chewed-up fingernail. “Let’s settle up.”

Nicholas stared at the big red numbers. That felt like one too many 0s. Could he argue that? He had to argue that.

Before he could say anything, Vash reached for the bill, a smile on his face. “I’ve got this.”

It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. Vash’s hand reached into his pockets, his fingers fumbling in the space. He paled as he checked his other pocket, then his shoes, then the small sack by his feet. “It’s gone.”

Nicholas had a sinking feeling that the little boy from earlier hadn’t been as shell-shocked as he had acted. “What is?”

“My wallet…” Vash laughed awkwardly. “You think those kids took it? Guess they picked a better target, just like you asked.”

The bartender leaned forward, a dark glint in her eyes. Despite her short stature, her muscular arms screamed danger. “So you can’t pay?”

-x-

Nicholas had been poor before, had been penniless for years, but somehow he’d never felt as broke as he did right now, sitting on a bench in the middle of a park. The bartender had practically turned them into indentured labour for the next few weeks. His hotel had kicked him out. All he had was his knapsack now.

“It’ll be warm tonight,” Vash hummed, rocking back and forth as he leaned back and stared up at the stars. “Clear skies too.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Nicholas watched him from the corner of his eye. All he had was a knapsack and this stranger who refused to leave. His head was killing him. The hangover was going to be even worse tomorrow. And he didn’t want to imagine how sore his body would be come morning.

He hated sleeping on benches.

 “Better than a rainy, cold night,” Vash pointed out, sounding like he was speaking from experience.

He was right, though Nicholas didn’t want to admit it. “Marginally.”

Vash chuckled, shoulder bumping him. “You just want to complain.”

He was right about that too. Nicholas side-eyed him; in the short time he’d known Vash, he hadn’t seen a more cheerful man. “You’re too up-beat about this. You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Vash retorted, kicking his feet. “And there’s nothing wrong with being happy.”

Nicholas should be angrier about this. He’d drank more than he realized too. “Sounds drunk to me.”

Vash shrugged, looking up at the night sky once more. “The stars are nice tonight.”

Nicholas peeked up. With the clouds hiding the moon, it was easier to see the billions of lights twinkling in the dark sky. “I guess.”

They sat there quietly before Vash muttered, “Sorry.”

That caught him off guard. Nicholas cocked his head. “Huh?”

“I…I messed things up.” Vash mumbled, slumping forward on his bag-turned-pillow. His expression was serious. “You should be sleeping in the hotel.”

“You are drunk.” When Vash didn’t say anything, Nicholas bit his cheek. Perhaps Vash had been too happy earlier, but now that he was somber, it bothered Nicholas more than he cared to admit. “It’s fine. It’s not like you’re the only one who was mugged.”

“But—”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” Nicholas propped his chin on his hand, studying Vash’s profile. Nothing about him felt like any of the other travellers Nicholas had met. “I’ve been in worse messes; it comes with the territory. Is this your first time?”

There was a long pause and Vash nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t travelled this far alone before.”

That didn’t surprise him. “Any special reason?”

A longer pause. “…I’m paying back a debt.”

“Debt?” Scrounging up spare change was perhaps the worst way to pay back anything. “And you’re doing this?”

The longest pause yet. Just when Nicholas was about to ask him again, Vash snored.

-x-

Nicholas had a head-splitting headache. His heart was beating a mile a minute and there was a strange queasy feeling in his stomach. Even his stiff back and sore neck couldn’t make his hangover go away and he’d run out of cigarettes. Nicholas rolled his shoulders, trying to get the crick out as he roamed the city.

He needed money.

Actually…Nicholas glanced at the blonde man walking beside him, looking as scruffy as he felt. The day-old stubble gave him a roguish appearance and he didn’t want to know how they both smelled.

They needed money.

Nicholas stuffed a hand in his pocket and his fingers grazed a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out, he unfurled it to reveal the poster Vash had given him earlier. Buskerfest. There was no better way to make money. And with a month left to go, there was plenty of time to find a way to get there.

Tapping on the paper, he turned to Vash. “Were you serious about this?”

“Uhh….” Vash stared at the paper owlishly before registering the question. “Yes?”

 “Why are you saying it like a question?” Nicholas shot him a pointed look.

Vash rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “I mean, yes.”

It still sounded like a lie but he’d take it.  “Fine,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

Vash lit up, his smile reaching his eyes. He leaned forward, clasping Nicholas’s hands tightly. “Really?”

Vash was far more excited than Nicholas had expected. He winced as his head throbbed, the lingering headache reminding him of just how much of a mess they got into last night. If he never drank again, it would be too soon. “Don’t think we have much of a choice here or we’re going to owe that bar for the rest of our lives.”

-x-

When they’d agreed to work for the bartender’s sister’s niece’s dog’s father-in-law’s burger joint as waiters, Nicholas knew what to expect. Hectic rush hours, annoying guests, a manager who was perhaps expecting them to dine and dash again.

His main worry now, however, was that they might end up owing more.

Or rather, that Vash would make them owe more.

“Do you really have to carry the plates like that?” Nicholas asked, a headache forming at the memory of the past few hours. It hadn’t been his first time as a waiter; he’d done more than his fair share to earn train tickets and their ilk.

However, it had been his first time seeing someone carry six plates and two cups. Vash only had two arms (Nicholas had checked. Twice) and yet he had insisted on carrying everything in one go. Precariously stacking the dishes in ways that resembled a wobbly tower, Vash had dashed from table to table, narrowly missing dropping a meal each time.

Maybe it had been a ploy to stay in this town for the rest of their lives. After all, they couldn’t leave if their debt eclipsed the moon.

“It’s quicker that way,” Vash replied as he eyed the empty pizza boxes around them with pursed lips. “Did you order pizza again?”

“There’s nothing else cheap to eat.” Nicholas shrugged as he plopped onto the singular clear spot on the couch. Between the odd jobs and the buskering, they’d managed to book a motel for the week. Shabby as it might be, it still had four walls and a roof and that was more than they could hope (afford) at the moment.

He gave a side-long glance at his partner. Despite his complaints, Vash hadn’t dropped anything. “I’m amazed you didn’t break anything.” Maybe they could sell it as a miracle and rack up the big donation bucks instead.

Vash grinned as he set down the empty pizza box. “It’s a gift!”

“Again, not a compliment.” Nicholas rubbed his forehead. The more time he spent worry about this, the less time he had to work on his own tasks. And in case Vash lost his ‘gift’, he’d need the money to repay every dish. “Whatever. You still got your money?”

“Yep!” Vash patted his pocket, checking it once more. “I can’t believe that old man’s cat actually tried to fish it out of my pocket.”

“I think I’ve seen a whole new world to scamming because of you.” And it was true, each hour they encountered a new trick. It was impressive, if tragic. Vash was like a magnet for trouble.

“Sorry.” Vash sat down beside Nicholas, slumping against the side of the couch as he sighed. “I’m just giving you more trouble.”

“You are,” Nicholas agreed whole-heartedly. “Work on it.”

Another sigh. Vash slumped even more. “Sorry.” Before Nicholas could say anything, he sprang up once more, like a dandelion after being stepped on. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“You really don’t let anything get you down, do you?” Nicholas shook his head, smiling wryly. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or annoyed.”

Vash stared at him with a growing grin. “You’re impressed?”

Annoyed. Annoyed was clearly the right answer. “You really only hear what you want to.”

-x-

Nicholas sighed as he lit the last of his cigarettes. Hopefully he’d be able to get some after today’s work. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

Vash buttoned up his jacket as he trailed after him. “You should get breakfast.”

Nicholas gestured at the stacks of pizza boxes in the room—the joint next door wasn’t just cheap, it stayed open late, and he’d never realized how hard it was to find a place like that before now. “There’s cold pizza if you’re hungry.”

“We had that yesterday.” Vash gave him a pitying look. “And the day before that. And the day before that.”

Nicholas bristled. “Hey, don’t make me out to be some sort of pizza addict.”

“You deserve so much better.” Vash sighed. Immediately, without even a second of hesitation, he whipped a donut out. “Here, have a donut!”

Nicholas had seen through plenty of magic tricks during his travels, but he had no idea where the sugary confection came from. A pocket? His sleeves? Another dimension? He stared at it, then at Vash. “How’s that better than pizza?”

Immediately, he regretted the question. Glowing, Vash grasped his chest with his free hand. “Taste. Size. Perception.”

And then he waxed poetic about the donuts until their shift at the restaurant that night.

-x-

They’d been living together for over a week, in debt for slightly longer, and Nicholas didn’t even want to guess how long he’d been stalked. Yet, despite it all, he could count on one hand just how much he knew about his chaotic roommate. It wasn’t like him, to not ask a question for this long.

It was strange.

And dangerous. As they chewed donuts (Vash had taken to alternating their meals between pizza and donuts, despite Nicholas’s protests) on the ratty couch, Nicholas said, “You suck at buskering.”

“Ouch.” Vash glared at him. “I’m not that bad.”

“You can’t survive on the streets. You are lucky the customers like you at the restaurant,” Nicholas continued, as though he didn’t hear him. He licked the jelly on his thumb as he studied the blonde man. “So, why are you doing this?”

“That…” For the first time since he’d known him, Vash looked uncomfortable at the question. He nibbled his donut, as though he’d find an answer in the powdered treat. After a few minutes, when it was clear that Nicholas wouldn’t let it go, he mumbled, “Well, I…”

Nicholas craned his neck, unable to catch his mumbled words. “You what?”

“I had…a job.” Vash stared at his donut, refusing to meet Nicholas’s eyes. “I fucked up.”

Ah, a firing. He’d met more than one vagabond with the same story. It wasn’t a surprise it was hard for the blonde to talk about it. Nicholas shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”

“I fucked up, badly,” Vash repeated, his hands trembling. “I keep trying to fix it and I can’t.”

Keep. Present tense. Perhaps less a firing and more a suspension? Yet again, it was unsettling to see Vash like this, looking small, looking pathetic. “But you’ll keep trying.”

“I have to,” Vash whispered, turning to stare him in the eye. “I have to.”

The intensity of his gaze took Nicholas’s breath away, though he couldn’t understand it. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “You’ll do better tomorrow,” he said, echoing Vash’s words from days prior.

Vash froze before breaking into a big smile. “Exactly. What about you?”

“Nothing that…dramatic,” Nicholas said with a shrug. “After I left the orphanage, I didn’t have anything I really wanted to do or anything tethering me anywhere so…why not? Travelling’s interesting.” He looked up to find Vash staring at him with watery eyes. Nicholas scowled. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine.”

“But—”

Nicholas flicked his forehead. “I get to see new things and meet new people. There’s nothing to complain about."

“Still…it sounds lonely.” Vash dropped his donut and leaned forward on the couch. His sticky hand covered Nicholas’s. “What about friends?”

He was too close. Nicholas pulled back but Vash’s hand held firm, keeping him anchored there. “I’ve got a few in each town.”

Vash pressed, “Anyone you’re close to? Anyone you miss?”

 “Not really.” Nicholas looked away. “It’s enough to visit every now and then.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Like I said, I’m fine.”

Vash bit his lip thoughtfully before reaching up and patting Nicholas’s head. “You had it tough.”

It was oddly comforting. He wanted none of it. Nicholas swatted Vash away and pulled back. “That’s why I don’t get pickpocketed like you.”

“Hey!”

-x-

There were few ways to get to Octervan, and all of them involved passage on a ship. And boarding a ship required money; tickets were expensive even for the lowest class.

They needed two tickets.

It took a lot of scrimping, but Nicholas smirked as they stood in line to board the ship. “That was close; almost thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“I knew we would,” Vash replied with completely unfounded confidence, his hands on his hip as he craned his neck to stare up at the towering ship.

“We just need to be back in a week.” Nicholas glanced over his shoulder, half-fearful that the bar had sent goons after them. Technically speaking, they weren’t supposed to leave the city, but Nicholas had never been one to let technicalities stop him. “Or else we just never come back here.”

“That might be easier,” Vash admitted.

“It’d be far easier,” Nicholas agreed. “Should we?”

They turned, staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. Vash wiped the tears from his eyes as they joined the boarding cue. “You really think she’d let us go like that?”

“I think she has military connections.” Nicholas shivered, remembering the glint in the bartender’s eyes, the absolute certainty she had that they’d be paying. “Don’t even want to imagine who she’d send after us.”

“You don’t think she’d send someone now?” Vash whispered, squinting suspiciously at everyone passing by.

“No? I hope not. You can’t get money off a dead guy.” Nicholas nudged Vash as they reached the front of the line. He pulled out his id. “Get the tickets ready.”

“What if she makes us close to dead?” Vash reached into his pockets.

“We still won’t be able to pay.” Nicholas smiled winningly at the woman holding a clipboard in front of them. She flushed as she took his id.

“And the tickets?” she asked, handing it back.

“Vash—” Nicholas cut himself off.

Panicked, Vash patted all of his pockets—once, twice, thrice. He took off a boot, turning it upside down and shaking it. A feather fell out. Quickly, he took off his pack and knelt, opening every zipper and searching. “Just…It’s here, just a second. I know it’s here.”

Had he been pickpocketed? Again? Nicholas had a sinking feeling that the answer to that was a resounding yes.

“Are you serious?” he groaned.

“I’ll find it,” Vash replied desperately, emptying out his bag.

Behind them, the line murmured impatiently. The crew member attending them frowned, suspicious. There wasn’t much time to salvage this, if he even could. Forcing his nicest smile, Nicholas leaned forward and purred, “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?”

-x-

Nicholas had always had terrible luck, but he’d more than learned how to compensate for that with charm. While the woman hadn’t looked amused, he and Vash had gotten hired and that more than counted as a win in his books.

The work they had to do…not so much. Nicholas grunted as he lifted yet another heavy crate—whatever the first class passengers were packing, they definitely didn’t need. Instead of crew, the ship needed a herd of elephants to move all of this.

“You’ve got this,” Vash encouraged, swaying back and forth as he carried his crate. Despite his big show of effort, he wasn’t breathless in the least.

It was like drinking all over again. The bastard kept restraining himself. There were few things that Nicholas hated more than being pitied. Unfortunately, he was too tired to bring it up.

“This is your fault,” Nicholas jabbed, supressing a groan as he forced his feet to waddle forward a few more steps. He’d always considering himself strong until now. Yet, the other crewmates didn’t look half as tired as he did—was he getting sick? He couldn’t be the only one struggling here.

“See you at dinner?” a woman asked as she passed by with an empty trolley.

“Of course he will be!” a man said, clapping Vash on the back. “He promised me a drink.”

“I said I’m broke,” Vash whined.  “Why do you think I’m here in the first place?”

“What’s a little more debt?” the man smirked.

Despite Vash’s pout, he happily agreed when they told him to meet them in the mess in two hours. The pair gave Nicholas a short nod before ambling on. While Nicholas knew how to play up a crowd, Vash took it to a whole new level.

“When did you get so chummy?”  he asked.

“Huh?” Vash cocked his head, like a dog trying to find a scent, before giving up and shrugging. “I dunno, but you should join us.”

“I have to. Can’t let you get us into even more debt.” Nicholas shifted the crate in his hands, his arms burning from the strain.

“I don’t eat that much,” Vash protested.

“We have two very different concepts of much,” Nicholas grunted. Two more people waved to Vash as they walked by. It was just like when they were waiters all over again. “You’re good at making friends.”

“It’s not that hard.” Vash grinned, his ears red. “If you know how to smile.”

“…are you trying to pick a fight?” Nicholas glared at him. Or at the crate, to be precise—these things were way too big. While his hands were by no means delicate and soft, his roughened skin rubbed against the coarse wood.

There was a pregnant pause before Vash jested, “So you don’t know how to smile?”

“Just wait till we put these down,” he growled.

Vash chuckled and picked up the pace. So he had been faking his exhaustion, the bastard. Nicholas clicked his teeth as he glared. What else had he been hiding? And how long would it take to find out? Maybe Nicholas was more tired than he’d realized, because for some reason, he was thinking of the future. Beyond all of this. Despite all of the hard work, despite the pickpocketing and the endless money loss, this hadn’t been his worst trip.

It had been kinda fun, even.

Maybe, even after the trip, after the debt, they could keep travelling together. Like this. Chaotic and exhausting yet extremely—

Nicholas lightly bumped his head against the crate. What was he thinking?

-x-

Why had he been thinking of the future? The present was what mattered and in the present, his bad luck reared again. Half-way through the journey their ship had come under the attack of pirates. Ducking behind several crates in the hold with Vash, Nicholas groaned. “Seriously?”

Vash peeked up. A bullet whizzed by and he immediately flatted himself back down again as wisps of blonde hair fell. “I thought pirates were extinct?”

“Tell that to them.” Nicholas pressed a hand to his forehead. It might have been better if he’d just had a gun or a weapon to defend himself with. Instead, all he could do was cower and hope that they’d make it out of here in one piece.

“Think it’d work?” Vash rubbed his chin, seriously considering the suggestion.

“No!” Nicholas hissed. He scanned their surroundings. There was a door just ahead of them, leading up to the crew’s quarters. With all of the loot scattered about, the pirates wouldn’t bother following them there.

The only problem was that there was no cover between here and the door.

Following his gaze, Vash caught on. “On the count of three?”

Bullets flew overhead as some of the more…zealous crew members fought with the pirates. No one was paying them enough to protect the cargo. Nicholas shook his head. “We won’t make it.”

“Trust me.” Vash grinned, giving an encouraging thumbs up.

Nicholas gave him a flat stare. “You lost our tickets. And your wallet. And—”

“That was that, this is this,” Vash said sagely. It was the least reassuring thing Nicholas had ever heard.

He ran a hand through his hair, his nails scraping his scalp. It wasn’t like they had any other choice. With a groan, he agreed. “On three.”

“One.”

Nicholas shifted into a crouch, ready to spring forward.

“Two.”

Vash shuffled a little closer and adjusted his glasses.

“Three.”

Bullets rained down as they ran forward. Had someone noticed them? He wasn’t sure, the shots seemed to come from everywhere. Luckily, nothing hit them as they hurled themselves at the door. Vash reached first, yanking the metal door open like it was made of paper.

“Hurry!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Nicholas shouted. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a pirate pop out from behind a crate, his gun aimed at Vash. He’d never considered himself a hero, but his legs moved before he could think and he shoved Vash through the door as a bullet tore through his chest.

Vash slammed onto the metal floor with a hard thud. Immediately, he pushed himself up. “Nicholas!”

“Fuck.” Dazed, Nicholas touched his chest. His fingers came away, blood red.

He was bleeding.

“Shit!” Vash stumbled as he turned around, dragging Nicholas though the door. His hands fumbled with buttons on Nicholas’s jacket.

“This isn’t good,” Nicholas groaned. His chest burned. Black encroached his sight. Was he dying? It felt like he was dying.

“No, no, no, this isn’t supposed to happen,” Vash mumbled, distraught. “I’m supposed to protect you. You’re not supposed to die, not like this. Shit, why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Nicholas muttered honestly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. We…we still have…” He grunted as blinding pain tore through him. “We…”

Vash’s face twisted. “You can’t die.” He tossed off his glasses and slicked back his hair. His skin started to glow.

Maybe he really was dying, because Nicholas could swear he saw white wings sprout from Vash’s back.

“You won’t die.”

-x-

“Keep your human safe.”

This was the first and only rule a guardian angel had. Keep your human safe. Happy, if possible. But safe, above else.

It was something that Vash repeated to himself as he sat cross-legged in front of a pool of water, focusing intently on the still surface. Images flickered across it, scenes depicting a six-year-old boy meeting with his friends, playing pranks on his sister, getting scolded by his parents.

Nicholas Wolfwood was a mischievous boy, but a well-meaning one. Vash had heard about his type before. With age, he’d soften his tricks, maybe even become a charismatic leader. Probably. There was the possibility of Nicholas going down the wrong path entirely and becoming a roguish villain, but Vash refused to let that happen.

The scene in the water changed yet again, showing Nicholas leaning against a window, his hands gripping the windowsill as he searched through the night sky. Disappointed, he sighed. “I wish it’d snow.”

It was a small, simple desire. Vash could grant it in a heartbeat without impacting the greater scope of things. Perhaps Nicholas would look back at this moment as what led him to staying on the right path.

“As you wish.” He smiled.

-x-

The snow became a blizzard, burying the village for three days.

-x-

A wish for better grades led to an entire class failing. An ask to win the lottery led to a broken leg and settlement claims. Even wanting a book caused a fire at the library.

Vash clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm as he stared into the pool. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His first assignment and he’d somehow messed up. Every. Single. Time. He hadn’t even succeeded at the basic keep your human safe rule.

No, he’d done the very opposite of that, especially now. Vash bit his cheek as he watched the newly-orphaned Nicholas wipe his eyes in front of a gravestone, his tiny shoulders trembling, an older man kneeling beside him and offering words of comfort.

The mangled wishes hadn’t directly caused this, but Vash couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was still responsible. Had he overcompensated again? Was this a side effect, a balancing of fate, where one fortune caused a misfortune? He couldn’t verify it either way and somehow that was worse, the not knowing, the uncertainty, the niggling feeling that he’d scarred Nicholas in irreparable ways.

This wasn’t right. None of this was supposed to be happening.

Nicholas shook off the older man and ran off, bawling as he cried for his parents.

Vash reached out. His fingers brushed the pool and the water rippled, disrupting the image. From here, he couldn’t even comfort Nicholas.

From here.

Vash stood up. He could still fix this. He could fix everything.

-x-

Going to Earth had solved nothing. Close up, it should have been easier to see the impact of his wishes, to make sure he used his powers in moderation, yet…the string of bad luck continued. Even worse, Nicholas had started living like a nomad, wandering from city to city, tied down by neither friends nor family.

The glittering promise of childhood remained unfulfilled—no degrees, no career jobs, not even long-lasting relationships.

And now, here they were: Nicholas on a hospital bed, a labyrinth of tubes hiding his pale body, a monitor beeping as it tried to keep him alive.

Sitting next to the bed, Vash grabbed Nicholas’s hand. It was clammy. Nothing at all like the warm man with a sharp mind and sharper tongue. Clasping his hand, he pressed it to his forehead.

As bad as everything had been leading up to this, this was the worst possible outcome. Nicholas was dying. Slowly, but surely.

You’ll do better tomorrow, right?

He couldn’t let that happen.

He refused to let that happen.

-x-

“You said you owed a debt, right?” Nicholas had said the first night on the ship, sleeping on the bunk above Vash. Not that it would have changed things if he’d been on the same level; in the dark, it was impossible to see anything. Their tiny, shared cabin afforded a single, tiny oval-shaped window. The moon was too weak to illuminate the sea outside, let alone the room inside.

“Yeah.” Vash’s mouth went dry. To you, he couldn’t say. Instinctively, he knew that if he told the truth, everything here, everything that was and wasn’t between them would collapse. And while once he might have been fine watching from afar, now…

After talking to Nicholas up close, after laughing and working with him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the shadows. He wasn’t sure if he could.

But fortunately, Nicholas didn’t ask for the details of the debt. “Knowing you, it’s impossibly large.”

A life-debt, so to speak. Vash’s shoulders slumped. “You could say that.”

“Knowing you, it’s not entirely your fault either,” Nicholas continued.

If only that were the truth. “No, it’s mine.”

A sock landed on Vash’s face and Nicholas grumbled, “I was trying to be nice. Anyways, need some help paying it back?”

That caught Vash off-guard. He jerked his head up, but the metal frame and mattress between them was impenetrable to human sight. Was Nicholas joking? He sounded serious. “After all the money you owe?”

“We owe and yeah.” Vash could picture Nicholas shrugging. “Why not?”

Vash bit his cheek, scrutinizing the dark bed frame above him seriously. “Are you sick?”

Another sock dropped on his face. “You want to do this alone?”

No. “I should,” Vash whispered. It was easier to admit this, in the dark, with no one to see, to judge. He did not like being alone.

No, more than that, he just didn’t want to leave Nicholas.

“Should is not want.” Nicholas retorted. “Just…think about it.” There was a long silence before he added, “And it probably isn’t entirely your fault.”

Vash covered his face. His victim shouldn’t be comforting him. “You said that already.”

“I know. And I’ll say it again if I have to.”

-x-

“It was my fault,” Vash said now, in the hospital. It was impossible to deny it. “I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, reaching deep into himself. There was still one last trick to try: if he shared his essence, if he poured his powers into Nicholas, then maybe, just maybe, he’d at least not have failed him.

-x-

Nicholas stared at his hands, then at Vash. His impassive expression chilled Vash to the bone; there was nothing warm in the way he studied Vash. It was like he was looking at a stranger, rather than a friend. Then again, after all that had happened, perhaps Vash should just be happy that he wasn’t glaring at him with hate.

Vash wrung his hands as he stood by the bed awkwardly and waited for Nicholas to say something. Anything. The silence was unbearable.

“Guardian angel?” Nicholas repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like what you hear about in stories,” Nicholas pressed.

Vash nodded.

Covering an eye with one hand, Nicholas squinted at him. “That explains the halo.”

Was that a joke? There were traces of fatigue in Nicholas’s voice; maybe he was still groggy from the pain-killers. Vash bit his lip. “I—I failed. I’m sorry.”

Nicholas shifted his hand to the other eye. “Yeah, never heard of a guardian angel getting protected. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Vash flinched and hung his head, unable to defend himself. It was true, it was all true. “ You shouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“Look, I didn’t…” Nicholas sighed, his hands on his lap. “It’s not like I wanted to get hurt.”

“I would have been fine,” Vash rambled on. “You should have protected yourself.” He stopped himself—this wasn’t what he’d come here for. “…why did you do that?”

Surprised, Nicholas stared at Vash. His jaw tensed before he shook his head. “I…I don’t know. It’s not like I knew you were,” he gestured at Vash, “and I…I just moved.” His hands clenched the bedsheet. “I saw the bullet and I…just moved.”

“You…” Vash locked eyes with Nicholas and swallowed as an unfathomable expression crossed his face. What did moved mean? What did that expression mean?

What did he want it to mean?

Nicholas smiled lopsidedly. “Guess I wasn’t ready for this journey to end just yet.”

Vash didn’t know what to say to that. Unable to take it anymore, he broke his gaze and turned to the window. Despite himself, he whispered, “…me neither.”

“It doesn’t have to. We can—”

He didn’t want to look at Nicholas, didn’t want to know what expression he made. The raw hope in his voice was painful enough as it was.

“Next time, it could be worse,” Vash interrupted. He was a failure of a guardian angel, unable to guarantee Nicholas’s protection in any way. Not from pickpockets, not from debt, and now not even from bullets. Maybe he shouldn’t have been assigned to him.

Maybe he should never have signed up for this in the first place.

But it wasn’t too late to fix this. If he went back, got someone else assigned, then maybe, just maybe, the rest of Nicholas’s life could be saved. “I should go.”

“Go?” Perplexed, Nicholas shifted on the bed, trying to get out. “Go where—wait, where are you going?”

Vash ignored him, making a beeline to the door. His hand rested on the doorknob. “Sorry for everything.”

“I said, wait you fuc—” Nicholas yelped as he fell out of bed.

“Nicholas?” Vash turned around and something jerked him back, an invisible chain yanking him back and away from the door. He tumbled, falling hard on the floor. For a moment, he lay there, dazed, staring at Nicholas as he lay on the ground nearby.

They stared at each other.

Nicholas croaked, “That hurt.”

Vash patted his neck. There was nothing there. Yet, he could still feel the sensation of the chain, the tightness of a collar. Like—realization dawned and Vash swallowed hard as he stared at the space between him and Nicholas. It couldn’t, it shouldn’t—there was a thin, silverly thread of light connecting them.

A chain, of sorts.

“Shit.”

Nicholas snorted. “That’s not a very angel-like thing to say.”

Vash wasn’t listening. He tugged on the end of the chain connected to his chest but it refused to budge. With a groan, he pressed his face flat on the floor. “I fucked up.”

“Even less angel-like.” Nicholas pulled himself up to a seated position. Wiggling his toes and fingers, he shrugged. “Doesn’t look like we’re in danger and aside from a few bruises, I’m feeling pretty good right now. Everything seems accounted for.” A thought struck him and he tugged the waistband of the pants the hospital had provided and peeked inside. “Yep, all accounted for.”

“It’s…” Vash lifted his head, looking balefully at Nicholas. “I tied us together.”

“Buy a man a meal first,” Nicholas quipped. When Vash didn’t smile, he stilled. “What does tied mean?”

“Our souls are connected now,” Vash mumbled, wincing with each word. He couldn’t even rescue someone properly. “I’m…not sure exactly what this will do. I’ve heard rumours. It might make you live longer. It might change you.” He tugged on the chain. “But we can’t go too far from each other.”

“Oh. Literally tied.” Nicholas’s expression didn’t change as he stroked his chin, staring at the door, contemplating the situation. Was he disappointed? Angry? Vash could only hope it wasn’t hate.

Vash winced. Just how many times could a person screw up? “I…I’m sorry.”

“The door isn’t that far.” Nicholas struggled to get up, grunting from the exertion.

When he started to fall, Vash lunged forward, catching him. “Careful!”

“Got you.” Nicholas smirked as he clutched Vash. Despite his loose grip, Vash was stuck, feeling more tied than he had by the chain. “Thanks.”

 “I, I didn’t do anything worth thanking,” Vash mumbled stiffly. This was what he was supposed to be doing all along in the first place.

Nicholas shrugged and Vash could feel it—every gesture, every breath, every heart beat. Every sign that said I’m alive. “Still. You saved me.”

He relaxed, allowing himself to relax in the cage of Nicholas’s embrace. Burying his head in the crook of Nicholas’s neck, Vash mumbled, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“That’s the thing about travelling. Nothing ever goes to plan.” Nicholas half-laughed, half-wheezed. “It’s fine. I wanted to travel with you a little longer anyways.”

“It won’t be a little,” Vash warned.

“Even better.” Nicholas pulled back till their eyes met. “I thought I preferred going solo but that’s not the case anymore.”

And he shouldn’t just accept this, shouldn’t just melt into Nicholas’s embrace like this, but Vash had never been good at doing what he should do in the first place. “Nicholas…”

“And…” Nicholas’s smirk turned dark, his grip tightening. “When you tried to leave, you almost saddled me with all of the debt.”

Vash froze. “I…”

“Don’t worry. I know how you can make it up to me.”

Maybe he should try the door again. The chain had to be longer than he realized. It had to be.

[edith-is-a-cat]

i desperately wanna be creative writing wise. the self ship shit all right lets roll it out typed out in app (may not look for errors) aint gonna be long since its one-ish scene

hi ms auburn subjects you to this :3!! @cloudcountry

dont forget my irl they gotta be subjected too @samsung-refrigerator-2000

thought of this while with my bio dad in a kroger so you know i was cooking

580 words and apparently the site i use to check thinks this..

"Fuck--Shit-- Ugh Idia... uhm give me a second please. Sorry." They murmured out more curses against the chain around their neck.

As Ede fiddled with the accursed clasp; hands shaking so hard it could swear they were going to drop the two precious soda tabs that were on the chain. Though after a few more fucks, shits, and damn its were thrown at the clasp it finally decided to do its job and unhook from the chain. It grabbed one tab white knuckles around the small thing while shoving the other tab an chain in their cardigan pocket.

"So.. Well... Uhm Fuck.. This may be a bit stupid--bit of an odd way to well uhm.. Confess." They looked down at the ground face already redder.

Idia just narrowed his eyes he KNEW this was way too romantic of a spot to just hang out with someone at. (Yes, Ede, very good choice sunset on a cliff overlooking the ocean; yes, he will never guess what he was called here for.) He almost got smug smile stuck on his face after guessing correct. He was thinking to himself: he just predicted the enemy's at-- OH WAIT WHAT. Pause, Pause, Rewind, Slow the playback, WHAT DO THEY MEAN CONFESS.

Internally Idia was processing everything like an old laptop with The Sims 4, 48 Chrome tabs, Spotify, Discord, and OBS all at once. But the outside hardware looked fine, he was stood there like a tall stack of rocks as Ede started their confessional monologue.

"Well uh.. this just may be a bit stupid but please just hold out your hand? I have a thing for you"

Idia without too much thinking held out his hand, partially still thinking about them confessing to him romantically and why the hell they were giving him one of its soda tabs. Yeah, Ede was right, very odd way of confessing. They shakily placed the knick-knack in his palm yanking their hand back in fear (not like hes gonna bite), hands held together as if in prayer.

Idia stared at the tab, didn't look like how he usually got them off the can. This one was different to his usual ones, it had a little metal piece with a hole in the middle, where there usual was nothing.

"Well uhm Yeah this was a stupid idea but fuck it I'm already here… It was meant for someone else for awhile, but I won't ever get to see them so the one in your hand is for you now… So uhm the tab means I would like a kiss for this scenario it also means something more. I love you Idia. It means I love you so much more than the little platonic love yous I would just drop casually." They take a sharp breath, cutting through the lump building in their throat, "Just-- If you return my feelings give it back, if you don't just throw it away."

They stare down at the ground, adrenaline fueling the getaway plan, run until its lungs hurt.

Thank Seven Idia was still blue screening because Ede sprinted down the cliff as fast as their legs could to get back to NRC Campus, back to Ramshackle, back to its haven to hide from his reaction.

Idia just stood there like rock soda tab in hand. Well? guess that was a W for him.. just gotta hope they aren't too afraid to talk to him again, he has to return it somehow...

[mediumgayitalian]

how do you have so many ideas constantly? i want to write more but i jus t dont really have a lot of ideas on what to write about and it stumps me a lot D:

well, partially because it consumes my life, but my real thing is dialogue and free writing tbh. i almost never have an actual plan when i start writing, i just pick a line to start with and go from there. i can do a little tutorial if that helps??

usually, i start with dialogue. my goal is to start with something interesting or dynamic enough to be read in a certain character’s voice, because that keeps people reading once it catches their eye. that’s why i don’t post titles or anything on my fics. dialogue is the easiest thing to start with, because it guarantees a second line — someone has to respond to that line. i might choose a first line that’s something like this:

“Woah, hey, I wanna try.”

now this can go ANYWHERE. very very open, but it does have restrictions: this dialogue tells us 1) the speaker is observing something, 2) they are observing someone else do it, 3) they are intrigued by the action, so 4) it must be kind of cool, and 5) they cannot yet do it, so 6) whoever they are observing might try and help them. i didn’t have to explain any of that, it’s inherent in the line, right? no matter what you imagine, those things hold up.

next is narrowing this down further. who is the speaker? who are they observing? what are they doing? where are they doing it? to some degree, you have total control here, but i find that in fanfic a lot of these questions are already answered for you. i’m writing solangelo fic, so this opening dialogue is likely from one of two characters (although, if i desired, i could totally go in a very different direction and choose someone else. adding more characters means a longer story, so if i was aiming for something longer, i would).

so who is more likely to be speaking this? who is more likely to speak up when they see something cool, and try it? who is more likely to be doing a cool new thing? to me, that solidifies the speaker as will pretty easily. great. now i have an opener from will, so i can work on nico’s response.

nico’s response can go a lot of ways, especially depending on the setting. if this is post-canon, it might be a little more relaxed, might be established relationship. when i read the dialogue in will’s voice, though, i did end up picturing a bit of a scene, and it went a very specific way. i’ll write some of it first and then explain what i did.

“Woah, hey, I wanna try.”

Nico startles at the voice, tiny bone falling from his hand and sinking back into the dirt.

“Aw.” Beat-up flip-flops slow to a stop right next to him, and Will plops himself down. He shoots a bright, too-wide smile in his direction, eyes crinkling. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Nico says warily, subtly inching away. Will, either oblivious or uncaring to his intention, just leans in closer, blue eyes watching him intently. “…What are you doing here?”

okay SO. with this alone, i’ve established both setting, some character info, and a good amount about their relationship, without stating too much outright. there’s some tension, right? a bit of imbalance! by making nico startle, a few more things become clear: 1) he was alone before Will came, 2) he was not expecting will to come, 3) he was probably no expecting anyone to come, 4) he was either focused or daydreaming, and 5) he is tense/uncomfortable enough to startle at a voice.

some of those questions are answered as the sentence goes on — he was playing around with a bone, probably a raised skeleton. not hard for him, so he was, probably, pretty spaced out. as the scene goes on, i make it clear that nico is absolutely not comfortable around will yet (although not so that he gets up and leaves entirely), so it’s pretty clear that this is right around the blood of olympus, after the three days. i also shove in some of my own small headcanons (like children of apollo being kind of off-putting to look at, too bright, like the sun) for funsies.

from there you can just go off. once you have a solid start like this, you can just write and see what comes up. maybe you like what you get, maybe you don’t! i’ll try and see.

“Woah, hey, I wanna try.”

Nico startles at the voice, tiny bone falling from his hand and sinking back into the dirt.

“Aw.” Beat-up flip-flops slow to a stop right next to him, and Will plops himself down. He shoots a bright, too-wide smile in his direction, eyes crinkling. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Nico says warily, subtly inching away. Will, either oblivious or uncaring to his intention, just leans in closer, blue eyes watching him intently. “…What are you doing here?”

“Hanging out with you. Duh. How did you do that?” He points to Nico’s hands.

Confused, Nico re-summons to the squirrel femur, dragging up the rest of the skeleton too. It chitters to life, nosing at the sliver of bare knee out from Nico’s ripped jeans, before bounding over to Will. He doesn’t even flinch, laughing as the little thing scampers up his arm and rests in his hair. Nico’s mouth twitches.

okay im gonna stop here because i ended up writing something decently solid and i want to post it lol. it spiralled & came pretty quickly!!

this is already way longer than i intended, and kind of rambly, so to answer your original question — i have so many ideas because i choose to. i make the active choice to write and post something every night before bed, regardless if i have something prepared. if i do — great! it can be a lot of fun to bring a scene from my head to life on paper. if not, it's still fun to watch a scene almost bring itself to life as i write. i promise that you just have to commit to doing it, commit to the actual act of writing, not writing something specifically. it gets way easier as you go on. when i first started doing this, two years ago for a different blog, i was writing things as short as 40 words. the skill came with practice, with heeding advice, with reading and analyzing what other writers do, but mostly with practice.

just write!! see what happens! and, of course, the best of luck to you!!

[modelbus]

ATTEMPT 3 AT A SHORT REQ, TAKE TWO.

Ranboo, Acting AU, Word; ‘Authentic’ (I’m really setting you up for the title ‘Authentic Acting’, huh? XD)

Filming for (disney-channel-but-better) original, “When Our Stars Collide” (The Superhero/Supervillain-Coming of age series, with two protagonists who go from: friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends, all in seven seasons!) is a lot of fun! That is, until your Co-star is having an off-day, and can’t for the life of themself throw a good fake-punch. 17 (5 minute) takes, 3 (unhelpful) breaks, an entire set of exhausted (and pissed off) film crew, and an overly dramatic, tired Y/N, had Ranboo willing to do almost anything to just finish the stupid scene, so they could all go home. (And he could buy his best friend Boba to apologise..)

So, is it really all that surprising, that Ranboo reluctantly agreed to ACTUALLY punch Y/N, per her request? Or that he accidentally punched WAY to hard? Or that she refused to break character, despite the throbbing black eye that she could feel forming?

No. No, it wasn’t.

This long ass mother fucking shit is probably the shortest request I’ve ever sent you..

But its still absurdly long. And It still took an hour. And I still finished it at 1AM.

-✨🌌🌙 NOT Anon

omg I can’t believe my eyes it’s a short request from you?! Not being able to call this “Authentic Acting” is killing me by the way…

Pairing: Cc!Ranboo x Gn!Reader

Acting AU - Authentic

“Maybe you should’ve taken those fighting classes.”

Ranboo’s head whips around to pin you with a betrayed look, his hands still curled into fists from the last take. There’s fake blood smeared over his costume, and you grin back at him, knowing your costume looks the same.

You do really love working on the set of “When Stars Collide.” Not only was working in a superhero movie your dream role, but having Ranboo as your costar was great. He was a hell of an actor, and an even better person.

Typically, filming the fight scenes was a shared favorite. You got to look badass, and pretend to actually be badass! What else could you possibly want?

But today… today just wasn’t Ranboo’s day. He’s thrown fake punches at you hundreds of times by now, but today he just seems to be struggling. Either his elbow placement is wrong, or it isn’t positioned correctly, or there isn’t enough force.

“Maybe we should take five?” One of the assistants suggests, checking their watch. It’s been over an hour (and over 17 takes) of doing this; no doubt everyone else is just as tired.

Except this would be the fourth break you guys have taken. And things are already on a tight schedule as is, any more breaks would have the crew falling behind.

“No, no I’ve got it this time, I swear.” Ranboo says, shaking his hands out. You can read the anxiety in the move easily.

“Just punch me.” You suggest, shifting you feet back into position.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do—“

“For real, I mean.” You interrupt. “Just punch me.”

Hesitancy flickers across his face, but he doesn’t immediately shoot the idea down. He’s probably just as tired as you are.

“I can take a punch.” You add, just to help convince him.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. C’mon, we’ve got this!”

You nod at the camera people, not giving him time to back out. Choice made, no going back.

Both of you get back into character and place, your eyes narrowing into a glare as needed in the script. He scowls back.

“Action!”

“You think you’re hot shit?” Ranboo snarls. “I can take you down with one measly punch!”

“Try it, then!” You throw your arms wide. “You’re a coward at heart, and we both know—“

His fist slams into your face.

Holy shit.

When did he get that strong? When did he learn how to actually punch? You stumble back a few steps, nearly hitting a prop. All you can feel is pain, radiating out from your eye. It’s like you can feel the bruise forming.

Concern flickers in Ranboo’s face, but you don’t give him a chance to break character. It was a perfect punch, ignoring the fact it was authentic.

You attempt a sneer, but know it looks more like a pained grimace. “Fuck you.”

“You said to punch you. Maybe you need to stop underestimating me.” He turns, cape sweeping wide behind him. “Leave me alone.”

“You’ll come back to me!” You shout, staring at him. God, your face fucking hurts.

“Not this time.”

Ranboo exits, leaving you alone on camera. You shake your head, turning away too.

“He’ll come back.” You murmur to yourself, looking down at the ground.

“Cut!”

You press a hand to your face, hissing in pain. Within seconds, Ranboo is there.

“Are you okay? Was that too hard? I think you’re bruising, I’m so sorry—“ He starts saying, hovering worriedly around you.

“‘M fine.” You say. “When did you get such a good punch?”

“I don’t know! Can I help? Should I get ice?”

You move your hand, giving him your best attempt at a grin. “If you get me ice, I’ll marry you right fucking now.”

“Right, ice. And I’ll order you food. And say sorry. A lot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—“ Ranboo turns on his heel, leaving to go grab ice, not letting you finish. “—apologize.” You finish, sighing.

Yeah, you’ll definitely have a black eye from this. But hey! At least you got the shot.

[carefulfears]

we've talked a bit before about how obsessive scully is, that she's a zealot. and i was thinking about this when i posted about signs & wonders. it's how i think about her with mulder — specifically the idea that mulder is a (her) prophet, the way her faith shifts to him. she follows him, protects him, believes (in) him. the way that, in the show, he's objectively right so she's right to take his side. it's reinforced even as they're "punished" for it. is this what you mean or maybe something else i haven't really considered?? what scenes/episodes do you think this plays out most? (as always, love anything you have to say especially about scully <3)

yeah that's basically what i've been thinking about...but like, when you posted about signs & wonders, this was the ending dialogue that you shared:

Mulder: If this was some sort of test looks like I failed. Scully: I'd say if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?

and i think it gets bypassed a lot of the time how reductive "believer/skeptic" is, in that these are roles that they play but often not really who they are. mulder isn't actually a believer, per se. he's trying to be, and it's extremely fragile and difficult ("you think believing is easy?"). scully is a natural devotee. she's catholic, born and bred, and feels most defined in faith. not just a belief: a completeness, a trust, a reliance. "based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof." (dictionary definition)

it's been addressed throughout the series, that despite her job as the skeptic, the one demanding evidence, she does not feel the need to prove what she believes in. she tells him that she believes in miracles, even if they can't be witnessed. when he asks what she would do to prove the existence of god, she says that she doesn't think about it. she doesn't think it can be proven. believing isn't difficult for her, isn't fragile, isn't frantic.

but "zealot" means "uncompromising," someone who fanatically pursues their beliefs and convictions. and it isn't belief in god, or dedication to the mission, that scully is violently committed to. signs & wonders is a religion-based episode, where they don't catch the killer. he safely moves to a new city to continue his work. but scully sits in “blessing, tennessee” and calls it a win, simply because she can say anything to him at all.

(collateral damage by audries: "he tells her he loves her, and she thinks someday she’ll tell him that the rest of the world is collateral damage. she’ll tell him that her prayers are selfish and that she is not the saint he thought, the savior he expected. she thinks she’d destroy the world for him, rather than save it, if it came to that...they’d wanted her to love the whole damn world, but she won’t. she wants it all narrowed down to one man in a dim basement and the way he falls asleep with his head in her lap, his restless hands and warm insistence and the way his coat gets darker and darker as he leaves her behind.")

it isn't steady, rational, commitment to her god or her family or her country ("i left behind a career in medicine to become an FBI agent four years ago because I believed in this country"), that she gives her last rights to on her deathbed. that she froze for in the artic, that she inked into her skin. it isn't to save the world that she gives up her child. her job. her home. her identity. and runs.

people tend to think of mulder as obsessive and myopic and that's true, it's hard to always be seeking. to always be following is terrifying.

[griseldabanks]

🕯️, 🧃, 🍄, 🪐 , 🍬, ❄️, and 🌿, please?

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Ummm...5. It really depends on the story, how badly edits are needed, how hard it is to make those edits, etc. Also, I often have a hard time differentiating between the writing and editing stage, because I do both kind of all at once a lot of the time.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I learned to touch-type from a computer game called Kid's Typing, where a ghost named Spooky takes you around a house to haunt its inhabitants (the faster you type, the higher things levitate/spin/etc.). Then I got my speed up by participating in forum roleplays on Neopets, which were very fast-paced and required you to sit there refreshing the page until the other person posted their reply. Those days are long gone, but I can point to both of those things as the foundation for my current typing proficiency ;)

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

When she was a kid, during a phase where all of the girls in her class were talking about their list of requirements for who they wanted to marry someday, Sharon Carter was determined to be "not like other girls." So, because all the other girls talked about how they only wanted to marry someone who was reeeeally tall and buff, Sharon declared she was going to marry a man who was short and skinny. Years later, after marrying Steve, she looks back and realizes that, though she ended up marrying a man who's taller than her and very strong indeed, on the inside he's still the short, skinny man he was before the serum. So, in a way, she got her wish.

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I'm making slow but steady progress in my homework, and I enjoy it.

Fall is almost here!

I get to talk to my besties at least twice a week <3

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Castiel is a fine character and I like him well enough, but Supernatural would have been better without him.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I'm not really sure what this means, but all I can think of is my LotR fic idea Rosie Runs to Rivendell, where Sam and Rosie get married before the Quest, and Rosie and Elanor join the Hobbits on their way to Rivendell. I got the idea in a dream, and still intend to finish writing it eventually. As for who would write it best? Just about anyone other than me, and yet here we are.

��� ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Madeleine L'Engle said, "The inspiration comes while you write." Don't wait for inspiration. Don't wait until you "feel" like writing. Just sit down and start writing, even if you end up trashing everything you worked on in a day (preferably don't trash it, but put it in a separate file just in case). No time spent writing is wasted, because at the very least you're determining a version of a scene that's wrong for the story, so at least you're narrowing it down. Often, even if I don't really want to write, once I get started, I discover it's not actually that bad. But keep it reasonable. Make yourself write, but also give yourself an out for the days when you really are just burnt out and need to take a break.

Writer's Truth or Dare Ask Game