#this is a little jumbled but whatever i'm tired

[yaeggravate]

I wanted to collect my thoughts on the newly released book Perinheri, focusing on the usual overlooked suspects such as Kaeya, the Seelie and the connection to Princess Fischl.

TL;DR: Kaeya is (probably?) not cursed because he's half-Seelie

I strongly recommend reading the book first, which you can buy in Fontaine's book shop. Link to the official website here.

Perinheri is "based on a legendary story known throughout Khaenri'ah, but there are none left who can verify this." Ok, first of all, Kaeya and Zhongli are right there, you even put their names in the book!! Second of all, Khaenri'ah is only ever referred to as the "Kingdom" throughout the rest of the story. 🤨 Most likely because it went by a different name back then.

I think most people are aware this book is probably connected to Arlecchino because of her constellation Ignis Purgatorius which is Latin for Cleansing Fire. In the book, the titular Perinheri is made to crawl through a dark corridor filled with ash. He is pulled out of the other side, "reborn".

This fits with depictions of Purgatory:

The faithful dead go through the furnace and once purified ascend towards Heaven. Some of the faithful are plucked by angels, the result of intercessory prayers.

That being said, I don't really want to dig into the Arlecchino connection too much, since we'll find out what her deal is in a few weeks anyway, and with story spoilers running rampant, it won't be much fun anymore.😮‍💨

FALLEN SEELIE

But isn't it fascinating how one of the characters' name is Angelica who guided Perinheri out of a subterranean realm?

Kaeya has connections to the Seelie who are equated to angels in the game. Brief summary here, but the meat of it is that Kaeya most likely has Seelie roots and Nabu Malikata's last name can mean "angels" plural in Arabic. This wordplay tells us Angelica is without a doubt a Seelie, or at the very least someone belonging to the angel category. (The Jinn, for example, are descendants of the Seelie.)

What's funny is that Kaeya owns a book called The Adventures of Angelos, that he deliberately showed to the Traveler. Dude has been dropping hints since the very beginning! It's almost as if he's important to the plot or something.

Perinheri reveals the curse laid on Khaenri'ah is not unique to them and affects those who have forsaken or betrayed their god. There are a few other instances in Teyvat's history that have people turning into beasts, but no further information was given which made it hard to tell how it was connected to the curse of the Cataclysm.

Ukko, the last survivor of the fall of Sal Vindagnyr, was turned into a Frostarm Lawachurl. His final recorded words were of him asking for the destruction of the world as a last middle finger to the gods.

Didn't work.

Shiruyeh, Liloupar's grandson, fell into the abyss thanks to the behated lamp's machinations, and brought back a plague to Gurabad, which turned his people into wild creatures without faces.

Something interesting is that one of the six sins of the Akademiya is to revere gods without acts of devotion. Perhaps the other sins are connected to the conditions of the curse as well:

Cyno's Character Story 5 To prevent researchers from being devastated by their own knowledge, the sages laid out six cardinal sins. They held that all the crimes in this world derive from these six sins. The first is to interfere with human evolution; The second is to tamper with life and death; The third is to delve beyond the universe; The fourth is to investigate the origin of words; The fifth is to revere gods without acts of devotion; The sixth is to attempt the forbidden and fear none.

According to Angelica, the "pure-blooded" (for lack of better word) aristocracy of the Kingdom persists because any offspring they have with those who forsook their god will be affected by the curse as soon as they venture outside.

The witch, Angelica, explained thus: "Hleobrant is the descendant of those who forsook their god and came to the Kingdom. This is why the Kingdom's obstinately pure-blooded aristocracy persists. This is the price of betraying your own god."

The implication here is that the Kingdom seems to be protecting its people within its borders. Those who have come from another world like Perinheri are also curse free.

Angelica herself is not affected by any curse. It's hard to say if she was telling the truth here but she claims to have come from a nation that was defeated by Zhongli. Keep in mind, it's possible that she was only saying this to cast herself in a more favorable light by disguising herself as a fellow god-hater.

Whatever the case, since Angelica is most likely a Seelie, who were cast down by the heavens for reasons unknown, we have to analyze her words a bit more carefully.

The Seelie were also cursed after all.

Arama: Seelies are just empty husks that race left behind. This is because they were born with a curse: If they fall in love with Nara, they shall lose their intelligence and strength, and their bodies will regress.

Explains why Angelica led Hleobrant on and to his demise. Not unlike a certain other Seelikata we know.

Angelica: As for you, Perinheri, you are one who drifted there. Thus, you bear no such curse. You may not have the nobility to shoulder a world, but you too have your own destiny. And as for me? I betrayed no one, not for a moment, until my god died, so I too bear this curse not. But you now see who I truly am, yes?

"Until my god died." If Angelica is a Seelie, then who would her god be? Istaroth? A moon sister? Both? Something to think about…

As for why Angelica did all of that...No idea. Maybe she was just being a little silly. Haha, get it? Because Seelie means silly. But guiding people with a promise of a reward only to lead them into a trap sounds eerily similar to what Kaeya did in his story quest... and in the manga.

It's because he's silly 😂!

ANGELS GEORG

How exactly Kaeya is connected to Seelie is unknown but the character of Kaeya is partly based on Hagen/Högni who is himself half-human/half-dwarf or half-elf. If Kaeya is also half-human then mayhaps the other half could be Seelie.

If Kaeya is half-Seelie, it would explain why he isn't cursed: Angelica. Angelica never betrayed her god. If Kaeya's "pure-blood" father, had a child with a Seelie who never betrayed their god, then maybe the curse wouldn't transfer to Kaeya. This is just one suggestion because we have no idea why the curse gives immortality to pure-blood Khaenri'ahns and if it can be passed on or not.

(As an aside, Kaeya's father is most likely cursed. Kaeya said his hand writing was atrocious, which implies his hands were losing dexterity like Chlothar's.)

I'm aware of the technicalities and the plotholes here such as "uhhh aren't Seelie all empty husks" and "don't they regress if they fall in love"?? Well, we know at least there were survivors out there, meaning there might be loopholes. Columbina, Nabu Malikata, and maybe even Nicole are all characters who weren't husked to floating eye state.

And of course there is Angelica, whose name I joked about being Kaeya's mom's name long before this stupid book came out. 😮‍💨 RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS, ARE WE, HOYOVERSE EMPLOYEE READING MY BLOG

(It could also be that Kaeya's mom was a descendant (Jinni) or scion of the Seelie instead, which I have talked more about here.)

Another alternative is that he's something akin to Perinheri: a child who drifted from some destroyed world. This doesn't seem likely though. Kaeya has the patented star shaped pupils that are more prominent in official art than in the game.

I will say however, that Kaeya's pupils are very different from other Khaenri'ahns such as Dain, Halfdan and Clothar. His pupils are similar to Pierro's which are also "solid". Maybe Pierro is in a similar situation as Kaeya.

Kaeya is in part based on the changeling prince from Midsummer Night's Dream. Changeling in this context means a human child raised by fairies... The title of the Harbingers' trailer, Winter Night's Lazzo, is probably a nod to this play…

In Scottish folklore, the Seelie have a darker counterpart: the Unseelie. Unseelie haven't been mentioned in the game yet, but it's likely they do exist. Perhaps they're the fallen angels, abyssal creatures or even the pure-blood Khaenri'ahns. It's hard to say without more information.

The Seelie Court is ruled by Titania, the Fairy Queen from Midsummer Night's Dream. While the Unseelie Court is their cold, somber counterpart, described as a winter's night...

Fischl's princess outfit is called Immernachtstraum which is also a nod to Midsummer Night's Dream. It's like Fischl and Kaeya belong to the Seelie, also known as the Summer Court, while the Tsaritsa belongs to the Unseelie, the Winter Court.

Getting off track here, but whatever's going on with Kaeya is connected to Princess Fischl and it's difficult to talk about either of them without acknowledging their strange bond.

Lastly,

Kaeya's Character Story 4 Sinister thoughts flashed through Kaeya's mind, and he simply smirked: "This world is truly… fascinating."

Why say world, why!? He just had to throw that in to confuse us even more!

Recently I found out that Kaeya took the traveler to the nameless island on his birthday. No one would go to such lengths if the place wasn't important to them. This island has a ravaged moon-or sundial belonging to the God of Time. The platform on the island can also be found in two places in Dragonspine; the Mural Room and the Secret Room. What the purpose of these things are is unclear, (my guess is elevators), but the Mural Room just so happens to have a painting of a giant angel on it.

The fact that the island is shrouded in mist, hidden from the map, implies someone very powerful brought Kaeya and his father to Mondstadt. If Kaeya's mom was a Seelie then perhaps she was the one who brought them above ground. I can also see a scenario in which a fellow brethren of hers might have helped out.

Such as, I don't know, someone with connections to the Seelie and Dawn Winery. Like Nicole or Columbina, who just so happens to be part of the Fatui… Someone must have given Crepus that delusion after all. 🤷🏽‍♀️

(Venti was taking a power nap at the time, so it can't be him.)

IMMERNACHTREICH

A while back I proposed Fischl might have been a ruler of Khaenri'ah. And now Perinheri has dropped more crumbs unto our laps.

Princess Fischl is the ruler of the Immernachtreich, which is appointed as the future realm of Fischl. This is an important distinction because it means this Realm wasn't always hers. The Immernachtreich is described as an otherworldly place where everything will eventually flow into.

Mitternachts Waltz Everything in this world must pass through the doorway of their destruction unto the future kingdom of the Prinzessin. In the silence of her pitch-dark Nachtgarten would they find a place to slumber.

Flowers for Princess Fischl: Phantasmagoria Every good, bright and noble thing must eventually fall to inexorable entropic destruction, and the final destination of the universe is the realm-in-waiting of the Prinzessin, Immernachtreich.

More About Fischl: To condemn the guilty, to sanctify the just, and to draw all castaway dreams into the embrace of the infinite Immernachtreich.

Something about that sounds familiar!

Perinheri Vol 1 Due to the Kingdom's unique position, things from outside this world were always leaking into it. The Kingdom's weapons would wipe out the calamities slipping in, but what of all the other objects? Such as, say, a child who may have come from some destroyed world?

A child from a destroyed world leaking into an underground Kingdom and the Immernachtreich, another subterranean realm, the doorway of their destruction.

Both realms are welcoming to castaways.

The annoying thing is that it's unclear if Khaenri'ah is the same as the Immernachtreich since Fischl describes her Kingdom as a "small and forbidden paradise". Perhaps Fischl created a subset within the underground realm that kept people safe. At least for a while.

She did after all create a Sommernachtgarten, or Summer Night Garden, that is referenced in the domain Midsummer Courtyard. See, I didn't just mention the Seelie Summer Courts for no reason; Fischl might've been the princess of the Seelie/Angels. But there's little else to corroborate that other than the wings on her back and the Seelie like emblem on her waist...

Anyway, Fischl can see the threads of fate and has seen the causality of worlds too numerous to count. As we all know, she created another universe and founded paradise. This other universe might be a new branch that split off from the parent timeline.

In other words a parallel universe.

These branches are referenced in the description for Mitternachts Waltz, so I'm not just pulling this out of my ass.

Even the branch of the tree of time upon which the great and glorious Reman Republic nested would be cut off in the end, such that the nation founded by the other twin child of the wolves might rule.

Perhaps this is also what Perinheri's world was. Maybe the various destroyed worlds were branches that got cut off...

Another interesting similarity is that Fischl ran into a bunch of fate-resisting royals who devolved into beasts after denying her status....

Flowers for Princess Fischl (I): End Time Zersetzung When the lone pilgrimaging princess reached the kingdom of eternal twilight, the fate-resisting royals chose to deny everything in their desperation. They refused to recognize Fischl's noble stature and mission as the princess of the Immernachtreich; denied their 13,000-year lineage as a branch of the royal family; and forsook their own nobility and restraints as humans… devolving into clumsy and vicious beasts.

Huh, it's just like Angelica said 🤷🏽‍♀️. Kingdom of Eternal Twilight might be the "Kingdom" from Perinheri and the fate-resisting royals is code for those who forsook their gods. However, Fischl wasn't without sympathy and took it on herself to protect the Immernachtreich.

Narrator: The Prinzessin harbored much sympathy for all living things, and wished to never see them in pain. She harnessed the power of darkness and dreams to weave the night, and gave it the task to safeguard all living things. The people celebrated and worshiped the Prinzessin's authority, and followed her call to migrate to the sacred land that would eventually be known as the Immernachtreich. We established a nation on the Holy Land, revered the Prinzessin as The Absolute One, and introduced poetry, theater, and adventure to the Kingdom, laying the groundwork for the Immernachtreich.

One final stray thought:

That giant crying left eye on the cover may or may not be the same as Fischl's left Auge der Verurteilung, which caused her great agony due to its ability to pierce through the heart of all truths.

It could also be Fischl's enemy, the World Beast, a night-patrolling beast named "World", who casts a greedy eye on all dreams...

Perinheri The crimson moon, hanging high in the pitch-dark night sky, suddenly turned around, revealing itself to be a titanic, horrified eye.

About Us: Shooting Down the World Beast You seem to be troubled...? Oh traveler, you need not be perplexed. With my left eye, this "Auge der Verurteilung" that penetrates the threads of karma, I keep watch over your fate; with Oz's crow-eyes that have witnessed the nirvana of a thousand worlds, he observes your way forward. If the ferocious night-patrolling beast named "World" casts a greedy eye on your dream, then I will shoot it down with my Magic Arrow of Holy Retribution!

#genshin impact #kaeya alberich #princess fischl #this is a little jumbled but whatever i'm tired #.txt #lore bytes

[nomazee]

"Ranpo. I'm falling asleep, man."

Your complaints are met with Ranpo's own disgruntled mumbles pressed into the damp skin of your neck. "Don't call me man. I'm trying to kiss you and that's what I get?"

"Trying to kiss me while I'm trying to sleep. Can you wait for the morning?"

Apparently, he can't, because he stays in his position on top of you. Every line of his body is pressed into yours as his arms stay wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in and keeping you locked. You don't hate this, truthfully, but you are falling asleep. The only thing keeping you awake is your annoying partner who you love but also want to kick out of the bed for the night.

Ranpo trails innocent open-mouthed kisses along the soft part beneath your jawline before moving up to the corner of your mouth. He sighs a content little hum into your skin and you have to fight back a shiver. He's awfully good at this. You know he's not trying to do any more than kissing—he never does when you're both bone tired and swaddled in bed—but his incessant gestures are inching you more and more to full consciousness and you really need to get a full seven hours of sleep tonight.

"I need it," he tells you, earnest in the way he always is when the exhaustion starts to make his clever brain fuzzy. He's always a little more mushy with you past eleven PM, words and thoughts and actions slurring into one barely cohesive jumble. "Just a little. Won’t you do it for me? 'Cause you love me 'nd all."

He needs it. Good god. He’s gonna kill you with that one day.

Whatever smart response bubbling on your tongue immediately fizzes out when he covers your lips with his own. Hot and slow breaths puff between the both of you as he moves his mouth against yours in slow, pliant motions. You're far too weak for him and far too awake now, so you let him take you apart just for a moment, just to take the edge off his spontaneous neediness.

"Yeah, sure. Love you and whatever," you manage to squeeze out between his perpetual line of kisses, now spanning across your lips and to your cheek and the spot right beneath your eye, close enough to let you feel the way his soft breaths flutter against your eyelashes.

"One more," he tells you—but it's more like he's telling himself. Like a goal, a promise, a self-fulfilled prophecy. "Just one. M'kay? Then you can fall asleep all early like you're a senior citizen."

"This senior citizen is letting you kiss them, baby. Don't complain."

And, oh, isn't it such a delight, hearing the way his breaths turn shaky for just a second after the nickname leaves your mouth. Every time you call him baby he goes shaky and bashful, too embarrassed to say anything smart. It’s his weak point and you’re too addicted to be good about it.

“If you wake me up early,” you tell him, finally able to pry his face away from yours with the help of a firm hand cupping his cheek, “I’ll make you breakfast. And you can kiss me again. I’ll even walk to the store and get that good jam that you like.”

“You’re a good bargainer.”

“Comes with the job. Will you let me go to bed now?”

He makes a contemplative noise, a hum that buzzes through your fingertips from where you hold his face. “I said one more, right?”

Indeed he did. With a sigh, you let him press a big stupid kiss on your lips, complete with an obnoxiously loud mwah! sound effect from him that you roll your eyes at. What a man-child.

(You still walk to the store for him in the morning. You’re weak at heart, really.)

#ranpo x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ranpo edogawa x reader #edogawa ranpo x reader #bsd drabble #ranpo drabble #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x you #ranpo x you #quick drabble i wrote while actually in a haze last night #i barely proofread… i cant promise that this is legible… #i should be finishing up the chuuya request in like 2 days #and then the other requests will follow #i’m so excited omfg #send more in if u want guys i’m ready and willing and able

[cowyolks]

hey! first off, just wanted to say i found your blog last night with your 'to dull the shovels and smoke' and i instantly fell in love with your work. you are seriously talented, and it was a joy to read!

then i saw your requests were open and figured i'd drop one in! (:

i feel like our boy gaz needs more love! i saw this tiktok awhile back of tropes that would go well with some of the cod characters, and I really liked the idea of a gaz x reader where they used to be friends as kids, then sort of lost contact as they grow older, but then they meet again in like the military/wherever and they're both obviously smitten for one another and everyone sees it except for them a;sdlkjf

feel free to tweak it as you like. (i'm going through gaz love withdrawals) i know my explanation is a bit jumbled. do whatever comes to mind, and good luck in your studies! <3

YOU’RE GOLDEN SUNSHINE, IT’S SHADOWS WHEN YOU’RE GONE

Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Female Reader

Prompt: In which you meet Kyle Garrick again after years of not seeing each other. In a gravitational pull, you find your long forgotten adoration resurfacing again.

Words: 4.3 K

Warnings: Graphic description of injury, fighting, sleezy men at the pub, inaccuracy about soccer, mutual pinning for YEARS, other than that this is a cute one.

A/n: My tribute to GazFest by @glitterypirateduck please enjoy!

You’d never been one to believe in fate, or anything as foolish as a destiny. But sometimes, you wondered if there was some force or reason for your gravitation towards Kyle Garrick.

He’d been a constant for more than half of your life. He was a warm sun, constantly glowing and gentle. A true friend, someone you could rely on to keep secrets, to council in, to laugh your arse off with.

You’d wished he’d been more before you’d left London.

The first time you ever met him, you were six, in the wonderfully blissful years of your youth. You’d been outdoors, enjoying the rare afternoon sunshine of the weekend. Your parents had corralled you to the park, hoping you’d burn off some of your childish energy in hopes of getting you to sleep through all the night.

They’d sat under a pavilion, immediately conversing with a couple tired parents that supervised their children as well.

You’d had shuffled over to the swing set, fully intending on gliding yourself into the seat and making sure you were the one to go the highest in the air. That was, until you heard a quiet little sniffle from behind you.

Your rounded eyes zeroed in on a boy, a boy with tears glazed in his eyes. He was alone, no friends playing near him. It’d made your youthful mind turn in thought, did he need a friend? Why was he crying?

Reluctantly, you slid off the plastic seat of the swing, making your way hesitantly towards the boy. Fat tears flew down his cheeks like rain, but he used the back of his hand to violently wipe the tears from his cheeks when he saw your shadow encase him.

“Hello!” You announced, not yet accustomed to the sense of conversation etiquette or personal boundaries.

“Hello.” He sounded solemn, but not completely gutted. You took this as a good sign to sit next to him on the pebbled gravel.

“Why are you crying?” You had asked, blinking towards him. His eyes were the color of sweet milk chocolate, pleasantly warm. He’d fiddled with the blue tee loose around his torso, before he reluctantly hiccuped.

“I fell down, my leg hurts.” He pointed to the angry red scratch on his kneecap, dirt and grass sticking to his skin. It wasn’t quite deep enough to draw blood. Still, you remember your Mum explaining something called an infection to you. He needed to wash it.

“It needs a rinse.”

“Why?”

You huffed, standing from the gravel and holding out your hand to your new potential friend. “Because.”

The boy must not have seen it in his best interest to argue with a stubborn six year old, so he used your hand to pull himself up, a frown etching on his lips as the irritated skin stretched when he stood. You’d led him over to the fountain, reaching up on your tip toes to cup cool water into your hands.

“Ready?”

“No… ow!” The boy whined, watching the water fall down to his socks in an unpleasant manner. You did it again, letting the water attempt to soothe away the burning ache.

“Feel better?”

“Um, kinda. What’s your name?” The boy asked, wringing his fingers against his shirt again. You took the time to introduce yourself, a wide smile returning to your face at the sudden prospect of having a new friend, although you’d already seen him hurt and cry.

“What’s yours?” You’d asked, while the two of you made your way back to the swing set again.

“I’m Kyle.”

You’d spent the rest of the day taking turns pushing each other back and forth on the swing set, happily enjoying the company until your parents and his Gran ushered you to go back home. You’d said your goodbyes, placing a sweet kiss on his round cheek.

“Mum always says when you get hurt, a kiss helps.” You supplied, not noticing Kyle holding his palm to his cheek, eyes wide and staring as you’d turned to leave with your parents.

—

“Mum! Have you seen Kyle’s jersey?” You hollered from your room, touching up the last few pieces of your clothing and appearance.

“Should be on the stairway!”

Quickly, you rushed down the steps, taking a quick two at a time to reach the light blue colored jersey draped over the railing. Carefully, pulling the material over your head, you took the time to pinpoint the smell of him. Cedar, Warm Amber, and a hint of something sweetly citrus, like the lemon drop candies he always indulged in.

The boy you’d met in the park had changed drastically, it’d been pure coincidence that you’d shared the same teacher in primary school though now. He’d been the one constant that had stayed through multiple fallen out friendships and disastrous adolescence. That wasn’t to say he hasn’t changed, for one, he’d grown like a weed, now towering over most of his peers.

His once chubby cheeks grew into his body, sharpening along with his jaw and strong nose. His eyes were still as warm and soft on you as they always were. Muscles crawled amongst his arms and legs like wildfire, veins growing more visible. He was absolutely gorgeous, any girl and guy at school would say so. Yet, Kyle managed to stay to himself, fiercely loyal to the little friends he had throughout his childhood.

You’d received many dirty looks for it.

Especially now, as you settled onto the steel bleachers with your two friends. Immediately, jealous eyes settled onto the blue of the jersey you wore, whispers breaking out into the growing crowd. You wanted to scream from the rooftops that Kyle simply didn’t like you like that. You wished he did, but you never noticed any interest. But that wouldn’t stop their stares, as long as he talked to you enthusiastically, walked you home after your volunteer shifts at the hospital, or shared a movie with you on the weekends.

You watched as he jogged over to the net, tightening the gloves on his wrists with a determined look on his features.

The game was running smoothly, your school up two goals and looking less winded than the opponent. Kyle hadn’t let a single ball escape him, his hands and knees stopping the zooming object in ridiculously fast reflexes. You’d shouted your voice hoarse cheering for him, lucky enough to catch his wink as he threw another ball out to his Midfielder.

It was the last minute of the game when a particularly cocky Striker crept up to the goal. He’d been one of the main concerns of your team. The whole game he’d thrown risky kicks and even put his hands on your teammates. You’d seen red when he didn’t get carded.

You were especially irritated when the teen was headed straight towards Kyle, straight towards him. He hardly even had control of the ball, kicking it sloppily next to him before lazily striking it forward. Kyle flew himself in the direction of the ball, eyes only on preventing it from crossing the post.

Suddenly, the striker brought his cleat up, booting the sharp material into the flesh of Kyle’s shoulder, shoe scraping all the way from his chin to clavicle.

The crowd uproared instantly, hisses and boos echoing throughout the whole field. You didn’t make a sound, your eyes only glued to Kyle’s hunched form, the ball tucked to his chest and safe. He stood suddenly, albeit a little shaky. You could see the deep color of blood soaking through his Jersey, but the red patch dulled in comparison to the beaming smile on his lips.

The game was over. He had personally defended and won the game for your school. The crowd cheered so loud you winced, but it all drowned out when he met your eyes, his smile possibly going even wider.

You’d arrived at his house an hour later, a little white kit held in your hands as you knocked on the door. You knew that your best friend was absolutely horrible about taking care of himself, you’ve known since you were the sheer age of six. He’d likely need the first aid kit you gripped.

The door opened with a creak, revealing a beaming Gran Garrick. The sweet old woman had watched Kyle for most of his life, for at a young age, Kyle’s dad had died fighting on enemy lines. You would see the admiration in Kyle’s eyes as he occasionally studied the picture of his dad in uniform on the mantle. In golden shiny text below,

Thomas ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

It was a horrible situation, but you wouldn’t change Gran for the world. She was kind, effortlessly funny, and treated you and Kyle as her own children.

“I’m glad you’re here! Boy hasn’t stopped asking about you since he came home. I had to force him in the shower, mind you.” Gran started off, ushering you inside as she made her way back into her recliner to watch the late night soaps.

“How’s his shoulder?” You asked, hearing shuffling and the cut of running water from above you.

“You know he doesn’t let me look after him like that. Thinks he’s big and strong and all that.” She chortled. You resisted the urge to say yes, yes he is big and strong.

“I trust you’re here to patch him up?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You replied, holding up the first aid kit for her to see. Gran waved you on, going back to her soaps with a pleasant look in her eyes, as if she knew something you didn’t. You ascended the stairs, making your way to the bathroom door with a sigh.

You brought your fist up, knocking.

“One sec!” You heard Kyle call, excitement lacing his voice. You resisted the urge to playfully roll your eyes. He’d likely received a deep shoulder wound, but it didn’t stop his cheerfulness.

Kyle opened the door in a rush, nearly making you fall into him since you rested your shoulders against it. “Woah! Easy there Sunshine!” Kyle joked, straightening you out with a strong forearm. He smelt freshly clean, the scent of Amber, Cedar, and sweetened citrus. You adverted your eyes away from him as quickly as you studied him. Oh, God, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Dark sweatpants clung low to his hips, hugging the muscle of his thighs and calves. Your eyes travelled to his injured shoulder, attempting to avoid the toned perfection of his skin.

God, you wished he loved you as much as you loved him.

“Let’s get you patched up, Garrick.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wanna watch a movie after?” You asked.

“As long as I pick.”

—

He’d been in a horrible mood all evening. This whole week had been absolutely dreadful. To start, it was week of his father’s passing, a time when even his Gran didn’t have a smile on her face. He’d never really adapted to the pain of losing his idol all those years ago.

Second, he’d received his letter of acceptance into the British Army, something that burned a hole in his pocket for over three days.

He’d been ecstatic to tell his Gran, and she had laughed in pride. But a slice of fear encased her too, Gaz could tell by the dull look in her eyes, she didn’t want him to end up like her son. Kyle was even more nervous to tell you.

His heart grew sore just at the thought. You’d been a part of each others lives for nearly two decades. You were his everything, and to be away from you? He felt the creeping dread lay on him like a fog.

He’d always considered himself to be brave. Someone willing to protect the world and dirty his own hands. He’d prided himself in his loyalty and selflessness— It was just who he was. That is until you invade and infect every thought of his. He wished he could just mutter those impossible words— I love you. Yet, his throat locked up on him, refusing to let out any sound. It’s not like it would be enough, no mere three words would amount to how much he cared, how much he loved.

Past, present, and future— he thinks.

He thinks of you and him on the playground, the child-like innocence he wants to protect and cherish. He thinks of your laughter as he chases you around his home, playing an intense game of tag, oh how he fell for you in his childish adoration.

How you’d look with a wedding band on your finger of his own choosing. How he’d bawl tears at how absolutely ethereal you’d look. For you to finally be able to see the tiny sliver of love and affection you deserved.

But the present time? He couldn’t think of anything besides guilt and jealousy.

Now he sat clenching the pint of beer he nursed, his teeth gritting so hard he felt the dull pain in his gums. You’d been speaking to some idiot named Greg, hand waving around ecstatically as you nursed the mixed drink in the other palm.

You’d called on this party, inviting some of your closest friends and Kyle. It was a surprise to him when so many people showed up, flooding the bar and moving to you. He couldn’t blame them for trying to get close, you were ridiculously beautiful and effortlessly kind. Smart and loyal, Compassionate and Joyful.

Greg had been scooting closer to you all night. The once meter of space between you had disappeared. You’d definitely noticed, judging by the way you’d moved subtly in the opposite direction, shifting closer to him instead. Kyle felt a bubble of satisfaction flutter inside his chest, knowing you’d been more comfortable around him than the idiot.

“So, what are you doing later?” Greg asked over the music, not caring or noticing that you seemed uncomfortable.

“Heading to Kyle’s flat, we have movie night on Saturdays.” You answered, shoulders tensed. Kyle could tell that you hated every minute of this. You were a people pleaser and hated confrontation, so it was no surprise that you continued to entertain him. He just wished the man would get the hint already.

“We can watch a movie at my place.” Greg suggested, making Kyle visibly seethe. Greg’s eyes flickered to him, a nasty and smug look covering his features when you weren’t looking.

“I don’t think so mate.” Kyle spoke for you, reducing his slouching and nearly hovering over you as he glared at Greg. “Why not? This your bitch or something?”

In his twenty one years of life, Kyle Garrick never thought he’d seen more red. How dare this ignorant slime of a human being call you such a vile name?

“The fuck you just say?”

“Oh lay off it, I’ll give her back after I fuck her, I’d keep her but no one wants damaged goods.”

Glass shattered as it collided with the flesh of Greg’s face. Beer pooling sticky on his shirt as Kyle ruthlessly beat his fist into his jaw, his eyes, his nose. Anything he could reach, he punched. You’d shrunk back, basically cowering as he had flung himself over you.

His ears rang, flooded by the pure rage that radiated through his entire being. The ambience of the bar and laughter long gone, the only thing he heard was the satisfying crunch of Greg’s nose, along with the weak gurgles that escaped him.

“Kyle!” You’d screamed, allowing him to snap back to the present. Tears streamed down your face, fat and heavy. All at once, he’d felt the pit in his stomach, he wondered if the tears streaming down your face was the cause of him or Greg. Without saying a word, Kyle dropped Greg’s shirt collar, clenching his bloodied knuckles as he rushed out the door, No longer in the mood for any company.

The pub wasn’t far from his flat, he could make it there with little trouble. The weight of his acceptance letter weighed even heavier in his pocket. Especially knowing he’d be leaving in the next two days. To leave on bad terms with you would destroy him.

“Wait!”

“Kyle, please stop!”

He’d slowed, turning his head to watch you follow after him, cheeks puffy and eyes irritated from crying. God, this was all his fault.

He said nothing as you latched to his arm, feeling the dents of your soft fingertips through his windbreaker, the heat of your skin slightly calming him from thinking about what he had done. He’d single-handedly ruined your party, causing a scene in front of so many people. And here you were with him, instead of enjoying yourself.

“I’m so sorry, Sunshine, ruined your whole night.” Kyle spit out, hanging his head and attempting to hide his face under the ball cap he wore. Blood splattered against the cement of the sidewalk, dripping from his knuckles like a ticking clock.

Shocking waves of surprise rippled through him as he heard your gentle laugh. Head glanced down at you, your lips pulled up and head shaking in indifference.

“Ruined my night? I just wanted it to be us and my two friends. It was awful being around that guy, I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there to save me.”

Instant relief fell off him in waves, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the two of you continued to walk to his flat. “He deserved more than what I gave him.” Kyle growled, not noticing the pure look of adoration cross your eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. Now, let’s go home, I need to patch you up again.” You teased, leading the way a little faster to his home.

You’d pushed him into the bathroom the second he’d unlocked the door, ushering him to sit on the hard marble of the bathtub. He did so willingly, now that his adrenaline was gone, waves of pain flew and radiated down his busted knuckles.

You’d leant over to pull the faded first aid kit from beneath his sink, long since needing to be replaced from how many times you needed to use it. You’d settled yourself between Kyle’s legs, the warmth of his thighs radiating as you held onto his wrist.

“I didn’t need you hurting yourself over me.” You whispered, taking clean tweezers and removing the small pieces of glass from his skin.

“That’s what you’re worried about, Sunshine?”

You huffed, attempting to slow your rapid heartbeat. You’d grown accustomed to the constant palpitations that always came when you were around him.

“Well yes. I won’t always be around to fix you up.”

A bittersweet feeling clung off the air, violating your lungs as your own jacket pocket burned with the slip of paper in it. A letter of acceptance into the Medical Graduate program at Yale. You’d graduated top of your class for undergrad, and had an amazing opportunity to continue in America to become a doctor.

Kyle had titled his head, a frown peaking from his lips as you finished wrapping a bandage along his knuckles, placing a kiss upon his cheek as you always did when you finished.

“What do you mean you won’t always be here?” He asked, unconsciously placing his hands around the swell of your hips, holding you to him like an anchor.

With a sigh, you fished into your pocket, pulling out the acceptance letter that held onto your bittersweet future in a vice. It was an amazing opportunity, and having the title, Doctor, before your name would be incredible. Kyle took the paper carefully, scanning over the words as his lips tilted up and eyes watered.

“I’ll be damned, always knew you were way too smart for your own good. Congratulations, Sunshine.” He managed, handing the paper back to you in a sorrow that made your heart hurt. You still stood in between in legs, never wanting to move from the spot.

“I’ll still visit on holidays and breaks,” you reassured, a watery grin finding its way onto your lips. You hated the fact that you’d leave him.

Kyle shook his head, his own hand slipping to grab that damned letter.

“I don’t think so, Sunshine.”

You’d read his own letter, a proud and sorrowful smile mimicking what he just experienced. He’d watched as your face turned from worried to completely gutted, a lone tear rolling down your face. He’d reached up, trapping the drop of liquid and wiping it away. “Don’t cry, Love, I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He pleaded, but it didn’t stop his heart from shattering.

This must be the end.

For now, he just wanted to hold you.

—

Twelve years later

“Hold pressure here, I’ll be back to reassess in twenty minutes.” You advised, wiping your hands on the white coat you’d earned over the years.

Your hands twisted under your gloves, pulling them off with a snap as you went to the next patient on your list. Spreading disinfectant on your hands, you flipped open a clipped folder all about your next victim.

MacTavish, John.

Patient forcibly admitted under the orders of his lieutenant after a laceration to his bicep from loose debris from C4.

You huffed, always used to soldiers hurting themselves. In a way, it reminded you of Kyle, how you spent more time with him with a needle in your hands than without.

You padded down the hallway, settling in front of the door the sergeant was admitted to. You knocked softly, hearing a muffled, “come in.”

“Sergeant MacTavish?” You verified, eyes filtering to a tall Scottish man with a particularly interesting haircut. He was pretty, in a way that suggested he knew it. Not that it was exactly professional for you to think so.

“Aye, that’s me.” He confirmed, a small smirk on his lips as you approached.

“Heard you took a bit of a tumble.” You stated, eyes twinkling in a gentle amusement. He’d mimicked the gesture, bringing his hand up to reveal his wound. “Ye’ could say that. Usually I’m the one blowin’ people up, not the other way ‘round.”

The wound could have looked better. The angry flush of first degree burning skin immediately grabbed your attention, among with the rather deep center. He would need stitches, and likely an antibiotic to prevent infection.

“Hope you’re not scared of needles.” You joked slightly, pulling on a pair of spare gloves while you fished in your supplies.

“Naw’, much scarier things out there, ya know.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, you liked this patient of yours. Many of them were pissed when they came in, or others bluntly hit on you. At times you joked with your coworkers about buying a wedding ring.

You set to work on his arm, disinfecting the area and numbing it.

“So how’d it happen?” You asked to pass time, although you were relatively quick with your stitches. You’d done this since you were twelve after all.

“Ghost and I were headed to exfil, we were held up by the cartel. Passed through a building but it was wired. I noticed it a second too late. Luckily Ghost got me outta there, while Gaz and Price covered us.” John explained, not noticing your halting needle and surprised face at the word of his other sergeant’s callsign.

“You said Gaz?” You asked, hardly containing your curiosity and eager questioning.

“Yes?” John answered back hesitantly. “Is he here?” You interrogated as you finished the last knot. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this soldier had the same callsign as Kyle’s dad, right?

“He’s meeting me here so we can go to the mess hall.” John spoke, confusion lacing his voice and eyebrows pinching together. Yet, he didn’t have time to ask any questions, for booted feet glided down the hall, thudding nearly as loud as your beating heart.

You decided then and there, if it was him, you’d put decades of friendship aside, just to tell him even a slice of how you feel. Of how much you loved him.

Then he was there. In front of you again.

He was there and even more handsome than when you left for Grad School. His warm caramel colored eyes darted from MacTavish to you, nearly widening out of his socket as he did a double take.

“Sunshine?” He murmured, looking as if he’d pinch himself out of this illusion. You’d managed to slap off your gloves, before very unprofessionally sprinting in his direction.

He’d just barely settled his feet before you jumped in his arms, his biceps curling around you and picking you up effortlessly. You’d clung to him there, legs wrapped around his waist as you inhaled the smell of him again. Cedar and citrus.

Kyle Garrick.

“Naw! Naw way, ya never said the woman ya fancied was a doctor!” Soap blurted, standing suddenly as he narrowed in on the moment. Your smile grew wide at the words the Scotsman announced. Maybe this was all a dream? Kyle fancied you? The man hid his glare, but Soap took enough of a hint to thank you and leave. Reluctantly you stepped back, still embarrassingly close to him.

“What are you doing here?” Gaz could hardly contain his excitement, the boyish feelings he buried now coming back in full speed like a missile.

“I work here on base. I moved back to London last month, picked a job where I knew I could help.” You explained, cheeks burning from smiling so much.

“I reckon we’ll see a lot of each other then.” Gaz brought you into another hug, arms wrapping so tightly you could hardly breathe. Damn, he’d gotten stronger and more fit. And you didn’t think it possible.

“So was MacTavish right? You fancy me?” You asked, no longer fearing. It’d been long enough, twelve years of not seeing each other, even longer adoring him.

“‘Course. I’ve loved you since I was six and you kissed my cheek on the playground.” Gaz laughed. It seemed he didn’t care to lose more time either. Twelve years was too long without you, the sneaked Polaroid of you in his pocket was the only thing that kept him sane.

“We have a lot to catch up on, huh?” You teased, no longer feeling the crippling aspect of fear and rejection.

You’d squeaked when he kissed your lips in yearning, savoring the taste of a man you’d loved all your life, with nothing more satisfying than being able to admit it. To show him, just how much you cared. Just how much you yearned for his addicting touch and hypnotic kisses. You sighed heavenly as he pulled away.

“How about a movie date Friday?” He asked, reminiscing on old times.

“You know I could never say no.” You answered, looking forward to the future.

—

Tags: @glitterypirateduck @pukbadger @ysljoon @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @mykneeshurt

#gazfest #cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #call of duty #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Kyle garrick x reader

[magniloquent-raven]

its midnight and im sleeby but i finished this thing i started scribbling out this afternoon based on @harringroveera 's post that i couldnt get outta my brain

i think i might have angsted it up a little cuz i can't help myself but its still cute so. pls enjoy

--

Billy's not super clear on where he is right now.

There are people everywhere. Yelling. Laughing. Music plays over a big fancy sound system. There's a blurry blue light glowing through glass sliding doors that he's been staring at for a little while 'cause it's…pretty. Twinkly and stuff. 

He's too many drinks past a good buzz, that much he's sure of. His head feels. Floaty. And heavy. And if he tries to move the room starts to spin. 

Whatever he's sitting on is comfy though. Soft. Softer than his damn mattress with that broken spring that's always stabbing him in the ribs. 

He's tired. Really tired.

Feels like he hasn't slept in months.

To his left a girl starts squealing as her boyfriend grabs her around the waist, to his right a speaker vibrates against the wall, buzzing to the beat of a deep bassline. Everything sounds far away, though. White noise blending together while the edges of his vision go fuzzy and faded.

He feels his head tip, just a little, and then—

With a sharp inhale he jolts, blinks, glancing around blearily at a silent, empty room.

It's still dark out. The blue glow still shimmers at him through glass. A lamp lights the room he's in. Everything's…shapes. Colours. His brain is still mushy.

He blinks a couple more times. His eyes are dry. Wobbly. All the shapes are wobbly.

"Hey, man, party's over." A voice startles him. He tries to look around, but it fucking hurts, and moving his head is so much work. Whatever, it's a nice voice. Way nicer than the jarring silence. 

Wait, why's the party over. He doesn't want the party to be over.

He wrinkles his nose. "Nooo…" 

"...Yeessss." There's a pause. "Everyone is gone, dude."

"No." Billy rubs his eyes. The chair is still so comfy. He sinks further into it, unwilling to move. "You're here."

"It's my house. I'm allowed to stay." The voice sounds amused. There's some rustling behind Billy. Plastic crinkling. Maybe. Something being moved around. "Why are you even here, anyways?" 

Hazy memories jumble together. A flask of vodka in his pocket, slipped under itchy robes. Sitting two heads away from Steve Harrington, sneaking glances between barely concealed shots. A droning speech. Another droning speech. Neil's solemn face in a crowd, watching him walk across the stage to shake hands with…the guy. The. Whatever.  

Some girl digging her talons into his arm after he slipped away from Neil's attempts to maintain a public image by acting like he gave a shit about his son's accomplishments. Beer and cheap tequila and shitty music blurring into each other as he gets dragged around like a trophy dangling off the elbow of whichever nameless girl claimed him for the night.

"Graduated," he says, picking at a sticky spot on the thigh of his jeans. Pinching the fabric isn't doing anything but he can't stop prodding. 

"Yeah, I know, with honors. Congrats." There's a huff. A silence. "Doesn't explain why you're here though." Footsteps, sneakers on linoleum, tap tap tap, meandering around whatever room is at his back. Glass bottles getting moved around. It's sort of soothing to listen to someone move around their house without any reason to be keeping track of their movements.

Well, unless…

Billy's stomach flips, and his chest goes tight. "You're not gonna kick me out are you?" he asks, his voice small. He feels sick, saying it. Thinking about it. He doesn't want to be anywhere else. This house smells sweet under the stink of spilled beer and leftover perfume. And he likes this chair.

The movement behind him stops for a second. "...Nnno?"

He breathes. Relaxing into velvety upholstery. "'Kay." 

"You sure you don't have anywhere to be? Family waiting up? Girlfriend expecting a midnight rendezvous?" 

Billy snorts. "No one gives a shit where I am." 

Neil will care tomorrow when Billy makes him look bad by pulling up hungover and in yesterday's clothes, but that's a problem for tomorrow. He won't be waiting up for him, worrying about Billy's safety or whatever.

A glass bottle clinks against something. "What about your sister?"

"Pfff…" He snickers, and gives his head a tiny shake. The movement makes everything spinny for a second and he has to pause to swallow bile. The sour taste on his tongue feels appropriate. And gross. "I fucked up. Everything. Beat the shit outta her friend. She's prolly hoping I don' come home at all. Ever."

Another glass bottle gets set down, slower this time. Carefully. "...This friend of hers…"

"Steve," Billy sighs. His eyes fall shut and he leans back into a cushioned headrest. His insides do the stupid fluttery thing they always do when he thinks about Steve. Steve and his stupid kissable face. 

"It was pretty dumb of him to pick a fight with you, huh," the voice says wryly. 

"Mnh…I guess." There's a soft snort behind him. But something prickles at Billy. Guilt, maybe. It's uncomfortable. He chews his lip as his eyes start to burn. "Nah. No. Whole thing was my fault. All my fault. S'always my fault." 

Saying it doesn't make it feel better.

"What do you mean?" There's sounds anymore. Just the voice, and Billy's heartbeat in his ears.

"It's…" Billy swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's a secret."

"I'm good at keeping those."

"You can't tell him."

"...I definitely will not tell him."

Billy hums. "He's real pretty, y'know."

"So I've been told, but what—"

"No, he's…he's so pretty. Like, I can't believe it sometimes, and I just wanna. Do something about it. All the time. But it hurts. Hurts so bad, and it's not supposed to, so I had to—I had to…I just got so mad. And I had to prove I didn't wanna kiss him, but I do. 'Cause I like him so much. Too much."

The silence is back. Ringing in Billy's ears. He sniffles quietly. 

"Oh…" 

"Please don't tell him. Or anyone."

"Billy…"

"Promise."

There's a strained pause. Billy fidgets, his insides twisting into knots. 

"I promise." The voice is so gentle, and it makes Billy's eyes sting again. He blinks away tears and listens to more bottles being moved. Plastic cups hitting plastic bags. Sneakers against linoleum, and hardwood, and carpet. And after a while, "You're not gonna spend all night in the chair, are you?"

"You said—"

"I'm not kicking you out, I just meant. There's a guest bed, man," 

"Oh."

**

Sunlight hits Billy directly in the face and he rolls over, groaning. 

The motion makes his stomach lurch, but he buries his face in…pillowcase. Unfamiliar pillowcase. Smells like honeysuckle and clean air and it's softer than any bedding he's ever touched. 

His legs are tangled in sheets just as sweet-smelling and finely woven, and his guts give another heave as he realizes he's only wearing briefs. 

Did…did he fuck someone last night?

He was definitely drunk enough to do something that stupid, if the cottonmouth and pounding headache are any indication, but he doesn't fucking remember. Which would normally be a blessing, except he usually doesn't stay the goddamn night. 

Is he going to have some girl hanging all over him for the first couple weeks of summer? Until he can figure out how to ditch her without making it look like he's too eager to.

Or maybe he'll stick around for a little while, this bed is actually ridiculous. He might be able to fake his way through one shitty summer fling if it means sleeping like a goddamn king. There are like, five pillows, and it feels like he's laying on a cloud. 

He nuzzles deeper into the pillowcase. Smells nice too.

His memories of the previous day mostly stop around Tammy Whatsherface dragging him away for a graduation afterparty. Maybe he shouldn't have started drinking at noon. 

Christ, he's not even sure how he got here, or where his car is. 

Or where here is.

It's one of the Loch Nora houses, probably. Nowhere else would have sheets like this.

Eventually he drags himself, reluctantly, out of bed. And immediately tastes bile.

Which is. Bad. 

Being upright is bad. 

And he doesn't know where the nearest toilet is. Which could be extremely bad. Girls whose carpets you puke on don't invite you back to sleep in their nice guest rooms.

So, he's very slow and careful about pulling his jeans on. And he makes sure to pause when he starts to feel clammy, sitting on the floor to stop his head spinning. 

It takes him forever to get mostly dressed, jeans and an undershirt are enough. He can't find his button-up and socks require too much bending down, which his dehydrated brain does not appreciate. 

Peeking out into the nondescript hall doesn't provide any more answers about whose house this is. It's all shiny boring expensive decor and not a single person in sight.

Oh, looks like there's a bathroom at the end of the hallway though, good. 

He beelines for the sweet promise of a place to piss and rinse out his mouth, shuffling past a couple closed doors, listening for any signs of life and hearing nothing, until he shoulders his way into the bathroom and freezes in his tracks, because—

"Hey, uh. You're awake." Steve Harrington blinks at him, standing in front of a plain oval mirror, hairbrush in hand. Which he obviously hasn't used yet, because the bedhead he's sporting is kind of hilarious. It's all fluff in every direction. Billy wants to run his hands through it. 

Worse, though, is the fact that he's bare chested, wearing an unzipped hoodie and soft plaid pants, with all that fucking chest hair, and he's looking at Billy with a curious expression that isn't remotely like any way he's ever looked at Billy before and this is…all very, very strange.

So, obviously Billy's theory about what happened last night was wrong. He's not even back to square one, he has less than no idea what the fuck is happening.

"...Yes," Billy responds after a beat too long. 

Great.

Fantastic.

Very smooth.

The corner of Steve's mouth twitches. There's something soft and warm about the amusement twinkling in his eyes and it's making Billy itch. 

"I think I'm gonna puke."

Steve snorts, and drops his hairbrush on the vanity. "Right, I'll get out of your way then." He sidles past Billy, far too close, patting his shoulder as he passes. Which does not help when he's just barely keeping his shit together.

His footsteps fade down the hallway at Billy's back. And Billy doesn't move. 

What the actual fuck.

He slams the bathroom door shut behind him, and leans his forehead against it, trying to breathe slowly through his nose. 

They didn't have sex last night. There's no way. He did not fuck Steve Harrington.

He couldn't have. Steve would never…

He's not…

That's just. Not what happened. Because that would never happen. 

It kind of looks like that's what happened, but it's not. 

He sits on the floor, head in his hands. And breathes. 

It's unclear how long he stays curled up on cold tile. Long enough that his legs start to feel stiff. Nothing about last night comes back to him. He sighs.

And gets up.

And splashes some water on his face. Drinks a little from the tap. Uses some of the mouthwash he digs out from under the counter. Takes a piss.

He's still unsteady. His temples throb if he moves too quickly. But he feels a little less like roadkill.

Steve waves at him when he spots him coming down the stairs. Waggles his fingers in the air, like they're best buds and this situation isn't the most surreal thing to happen to them since the Byers' weirdly trashed living room.

Billy rubs the back of his neck. "...Hey."

"Coffee?"

"Sure."

Steve pulls out two mugs, one of his thumbs stuck through a hole in the cuff of his sleeve. There's sunlight warming the honey-coloured highlights in his hair.

Yeah, no, this is definitely more fucked up than finding Max in a random house with a busted window and shitty drawings everywhere.

He might actually have lost his mind.

"What the fuck happened last night?" He blurts, his cheeks hot, fingers jittery. He shoves his hands in his pockets, fists balled up against his thighs.

Steve glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, figures you don't remember."

"Don't remember what?"

"You were pretty out of it."

"Yeah, thanks, I know that part."

Steve snorts, grabbing more things out of cupboards. Billy's paying more attention to his hands than what's in them. "You didn't want to leave, so I let you sleep upstairs."

"...Why?"

"You didn't say, just said you didn't have anywhere else to be."

"That's not what I meant." He knows exactly why he didn't want to leave. All the many reasons why he'd rather be here than under Neil's roof. Or anywhere else. What doesn't make any fucking sense is Steve accommodating him. 

Steve's eyes flicker to his again, briefly, before he turns back to the counter. When he shrugs the nonchalance seems forced. "You're a lot nicer when you're plastered."

"I…" Billy opens his mouth. Shuts it again. 

What the fuck does that mean. 

Steve fidgets with a spoon. "You got…kind of weepy, y'know."

Oh.

Goddamnit.

His shoulders go tense, jagged edges of a shield around what's left of his dignity. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snaps. It's all he can muster when he doesn't know what the fuck he was crying about. Every possibility is worse than the last.

"Yeah, you wish," Steve mutters.

Billy freezes. 

And doesn't recover quick enough to hide it from Steve. Steve's eyebrows shoot up. "Holy shit, it's true isn't it?" He turns around fully, the mess he's made of the counter forgotten. 

Fuck.

"I—don't know what you're talking about." His stupid deer-in-the-headlights expression is mostly under control but the sudden tremble in his voice definitely fucking isn't. 

He backs away a step and then stops. Where the fuck is he going to go, he doesn't know where his car is, where his keys are, and he's fucking barefoot. Running upstairs and locking himself in Steve's bathroom seems just a little too pathetic but that doesn't mean he doesn't consider it.

Billy clenches his jaw. It makes his head pound. "What exactly did I say last night?" He grits out, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Steve eyes him. Slowly, carefully. Deliberating. He chews his bottom lip. The silence is fucking agonizing. 

"Can't tell you," he finally replies, his voice light. One corner of his mouth lifts into half a smile, and scratches his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

"That's…" Billy rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand, like he's looking for the button to restart his poor, confused brain. He drops his hand, exasperated, eyebrows creeping up to his hairline. "Steve, what the fuck."

Steve cracks a full-blown grin. "I told you I'm good at keeping secrets."

"I swear to god—"

"Aw c'mon, I can't break a promise! Especially 'cause you asked so nicely. You were so polite. It was very cute."

"I…what?"

He can't have heard that right.

Or Steve's just fucking with him. That's what's going on here. Billy let something slip last night and now Steve's holding it over his head. Because why wouldn't he, honestly. He has every reason to want to mess with Billy, and now he's got the perfect leverage.

"Billy." Steve's voice is soft, suddenly. His expression gentles, and he moves to close the gap between them. And Billy…doesn't get it. He's stalled out and stuck trying to figure out how this is gonna go wrong, how it fits into whatever prank Steve is clearly pulling.

He doesn't know what his face is doing, but he's pretty sure he's being way more readable than he'd like. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Steve touches him. A hand on his shoulder. A hesitant, awkward pat. Testing the waters, maybe. Trying to make sure he's real, maybe.

Is any of this real? Billy's still not convinced. He can smell Steve's shampoo and see all the little flecks of colour in his eyes and his shoulder is still burning where they made contact, but…

"I'm sorry I hurt you, y'know," Steve murmurs, his gaze dropping, hovering somewhere around Billy's crossed arms. He reaches out again, fingers grazing Billy's knuckles this time. All Billy can do is blink at him, afraid to breathe. "Doesn't have to be like that."

He tugs at Billy's hand, untucking it from the crook of his elbow, unfolding Billy's arms, and Billy lets him. One hand drops to his side and the other stays cradled in Steve's grip. He's…staring at it like he's studying for a test. Billy has no idea what's so fucking interesting, or what Steve's talking about, but he's also not bothered at this point. 

His knees feel like jello. 

"You could've just kissed me."

Billy nearly collapses. Like one of those swooning chicks in shitty romance novels. Breathless and flushed and overwhelmed. Except he just stands there like a moron, staring at Steve. And Steve's mouth.

"What?" he manages not to sound too strangled. Miraculously. 

Steve smiles at him, almost sheepishly. "You still could. I wouldn't mind."

"You…wouldn't."

"Yeah, I mean, if you had morning breath still it might be a different story, but…" Steve gestures vaguely, pulling Billy's hand along with him as he shrugs. 

Billy snorts.

And hey, maybe Steve is messing with him, and this will blow up in his face, but…

Well, he just really wants to kiss him before it does.

So he leans in and presses their lips together. 

~~tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #a raven's writing desk #might post this on ao3 tomorrow but that requires more brain power than im willing to spend rn #i wish to sleep

[kittievampire]

Kin of the Demon Prince (pt. 7)

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, MC is a fuckin unit, Mention of abortion, Female MC, Single Mom MC, MC x Diavolo

Link to part 1

Link to part 2

Link to part 3

Link to part 4

Link to part 5

Link to part 6

Link to part 8

Link to part 9

Enjoy.

The silence that filled the room was uncomfortable, almost.

The both of you could tell that the other was hurting, that the other was bitter, but both believed it to be for different reasons. Reasons far from the truth of the matter.

You met his gaze, trying to seem as indifferent as possible. This resulted in your eyebrows scrunching upward, however, to express your upset. "I don't think there's anything to talk about, Diavolo." You kept your voice soft, as to not scare either the child in your arms or her father beside you. "While I am curious as to why you were there, I don't think it's information I need to know, do I?"

Diavolo sighed softly at your tone, already becoming a little frustrated. "MC, please, just listen to what I have to say. I understand you're upset at me, but this is more than just a lover's quarrel—" He motioned toward Selene— "We have our daughter to consider."

You scoffed at his statement. "Our daughter? Our? You weren't there when she was born. You weren't there these past few months, what suddenly makes her your daughter as well?" You could feel his frustration, and a feeling of relief presented itself to you. It felt nice knowing that he felt in this moment what you felt this past year.

"I wasn't there because I wasn't given much of a choice." "Yeah, I bet. The all-powerful Demon Prince doesn't have the power to see his own daughter? That sounds right. I totally forgive you," You spat, venom and sarcasm laced in your words that poked and pulled at his heart. His tired, sore, and wounded heart. "MC, I'm trying to have a conversation with you, could you stop focusing on how upset you are with me for a moment?"

Your gaze shifted down to the child in your arms. You were so angry at him, but he was right. You had Selene to consider in this situation, you can't afford to be selfish. If there was a chance that Selene could have a father figure in her life, you were not going to be the one to take that away from her. She would not be forced to live her life like that. Not if you could help it at least. Maybe you could try and convince him to be there, even if it has to be as a co-parent.

Maybe there was still a chance.

Diavolo took your silence as permission to speak, finally. He let out a small sigh and shifted in his seat. "MC, I know that things between us are... Iffy. But, before we get into that, I want to talk to you about Selene, okay?" His soft tone didn't falter as he spoke.

Slowly, you nodded, gently stroking Selene's red hair as she closed her eyes. Diavolo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, biting his lip and looking up at you. "I want to be a part of Selene's life. I don't know what made you think I was unfit, but I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to prove that I'm worthy of being her father. Please don't take her away from me."

The amount of emotion you heard behind his words made you snap your head toward him immediately, face pale with a look of shock present. "You..." You paused, trying to gather your thoughts so they didn't come out jumbled and unorganized. "You want to be a part of her life?" You asked softly, body beginning to tremble a little.

Diavolo nodded. "Yes, MC. I want to be there for my daughter no matter what. I know that you don't want me around, but I can't sentence her to the life I was forced to live, having only one parent." He bit his lip once more, dragging a palm along his face as he tried to keep himself composed. "My mother died giving birth to me. My father went crazy, and his strictness and overprotective nature left me bitter and lonely. I'm sure anyone else in my position would've resented him for such a thing," He said, gold eyes slowly shifting to look at the sleeping infant in your arms. "I don't want her to grow up despising either one of us. If we can fix this enough to where we can agree to, at the very least, co-parent, I want to try."

The look in his eyes made your heart swell. The sheer desperation you saw in him to be a part of your child's life, to be her father, put your mind at ease for a moment. "Dia," Diavolo shifted a little at the nickname, relieved to hear it after all this time. "Dia, Solomon told me that... You wanted nothing to do with me when you found out I was pregnant," You explained, not breaking eye contact with the demon before you.

The red-head flinched, quickly grasping one of your hands with both of his. "No! My darling, MC, I would never ever leave you, let alone leave you with my baby. Our baby." He reached up to gently tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear. "I may be a demon, but I am not that heartless." He looked down for a moment, now recalling the conversation that he and the sorcerer had a year ago. "He... Told me you were the one who wanted to call it off," He said, looking up and meeting your gaze once more.

You shook your head immediately. "No! That's not true! Lucifer told me that he said I'd gotten rid of the baby, is that true as well?" You asked. Diavolo nodded, making you let out a small sigh in frustration. "That sorcerer is a liar and a fucking psycho. I would never get rid of our baby!" You argued, holding Selene close to you. The red-head quickly pulled an index finger to his lips, glancing down at the sleeping baby in your arms before looking back up at you.

Slowly, both hands came to gently cup your face, one of his thumbs wiping away a single tear that had fallen from your eye. A small smile appeared on his face as his own eyes began to well up. He let out a small sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm just glad that the both of you are okay," He said, gently resting his forehead against yours. "I don't know what I would've done, had I lost both of you forever."

You swallowed the lump that had begun to form in your throat, allowing a few more tears to slip from your eyes as you raised your hand to gently cup one of his. "Dia—" Your hand began to shake while holding his— "Do you... Uhm..." You felt like you were confessing for the first time again. Here you were, a sputtering mess, while Diavolo sat there expectantly with a small smile on his face. "Yes, MC?" He asked softly, bringing himself just a little bit closer. Close enough to make you blush like a schoolgirl.

You sighed, glancing down at Selene. Everything was so different now. Different factors in the equation that you hadn't thought would be there, some you hadn't thought would be there so soon, were things you had to consider.

"Do you still love me?"

The demon prince leaned forward, turning your head with one of his hands to face him as he locked his lips with yours. The kiss was warm and passionate, something you'd been craving this past year.

It made you wonder how you could ever believe that this demon didn't love you.

As his lips left yours, you opened your eyes to see his looking at you lovingly. "How could I not?" He asked, lifting a hand to gently stroke your hair before looking down at Selene. "I'm going to let you rest now, My Queen. Your body still needs to recuperate. Besides, if I'm here a moment longer, I feel I won't be able to hold myself back." He looked down at Selene and stroked the small red strands of hair on her head. "I'll leave you two be. Perhaps we'll have the brothers visit."

With that, Diavolo stood and left the room, leaving you and Selene in silence.

Slowly, you adjusted yourself so you could lie down with her beside you, letting out a small sigh in bliss.

Moments like these are what made you think the world wasn't so bad after all. All the trauma you'd been forced to endure through your childhood may have been worth it.

No, it was worth it. All of it was worth it if it meant you, Diavolo, and Selene could be together. Maybe you'd even get married, make things official.

The thought made you smile.

You closed your eyes, allowing sleep to take over your senses, the dimly-lit room fading out of sight as you drifted off.

_

"Calling me a liar was expected, but calling me a psycho, too, MC? Now, that's just hurtful..."

The white-haired sorcerer stood over you and Selene, shifting his stance as he turned to glance at the door for a moment. He held out a hand, two purple glyphs forming before his palm as the door glowed, being sealed tightly with magic.

"I've tried everything I could to get you all to myself," He said, lowering his arm and shifting his gaze to look down at, seemingly, the two of you. "But, it appears I'll have to take you by force."

You stirred ever so slightly, opening your eyes a little to see the blurry image of Solomon before you. "Wha... S-Solomon?" You asked softly, placing a protective arm over Selene.

Solomon scoffed, holding out both hands toward you. "Sleep. I don't need you—" He scoffed, the spell expanding as three glyphs formed before his palm— "I was hoping she'd be older, her power more cultivated before I took her. But, I won't be picky. Demonic royal blood is still demonic royal blood, after all." He chuckled softly, another glyph appearing as the spell grew in power once more.

You had already fallen asleep, body outlined in a blue light before you stilled.

Solomon shifted his gaze to Selene. "Now then, I'll be taking you, my dear." He gently picked up Selene and held her close to him.

He held out his hand, making a cutting motion as a portal tore open in the middle of the room.

The sorcerer took a step toward the portal, taking a moment to look back at your sleeping form. He smiled, waving to no one before continuing into the portal.

"Sweet dreams, MC."

The tear in reality snapped shut.

And you were fast asleep.

Sorry if this was a bit underwhelming and short, guys. Had a lot of shit going on this past week and I had to rush it 🥲

Vote in this pole!

Tag list; @lavynne , @jessiegerl , @romaissa , @krispsprite , @unlikelysublimekryptonite , @t-misaki , @zarakem , @darkflowerav , @lloydlovebot , @lovemidnighteclipse12 , @rose-ly , @quackimilktea , @traumamakesmefunnier , @buggaboorenegade , @simpinginthecorner , @thebixchyravenclaw , @pjsflowers , @basicgukk , @blue-rae18

Likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

Weekly updates!

#obey me mc #obey me angst #obey me #obey me mc x diavolo #diavolo x female reader #kin of the demon prince #obey me diavolo angst #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x you

[pochipop]

＃BNHA !! ♡ — CONFESSING TO YOU.

#. synopsis! — they confess to you after realizing how hard they've fallen following your killer performance at the ua sports festival .

#. characters! —bakugo, kaminari, todoroki .

#. warnings! — none .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. part I! — you can find the prerequisite fic: here .

𖦹. ━ BAKUGO !!

Classwork has really gotten interesting lately. Not because you and your peers are reading anything special, —but because the physical aspects have been amplified in order to prepare for the future. At the start of it all, you weren't sure UA was a good fit for you, nonetheless that Class 1A was a suitable starting point. But you quickly fell into the swing of things, and you fought hard to make a name for yourself in spite of any obstacles. As you built your confidence, a certain hot-tempered someone took notice, although he's hard pressed to admit it.

Even now with this haphazard plan jumbling around in his brain, he's not so sure this is the right way to go about things. But Bakugo knows that if he doesn't do it now, he might never do it at all. And if he's being honest, that part might frazzle him more than the thought of rejection. At the very least, he thinks you should know that. . . That he feels something for you, whatever the hell you wanna call it. He's tired of keeping it inside. Katsuki, of all people, is anything but used to shying away from his opinions, —and this one has been plaguing him for way too long.

"Hey, y/n!" He calls over to you.

You follow through with the punch you're landing on the training bag before turning to him.

"Yeah?" You ask, arms dropping to your side with a distant ache.

It's so commonplace by now that your brain hardly registers anything at all.

"We need to talk," Bakugo states, leaving little room for questions.

You can't say you're devoid of nerves, but he's been quite nice to you recently, so they've tempered off quite a lot. When you think back on it, you don't really know if he was ever mean to you personally. For the most part, he's always been. . . Nice? It's a word you struggle to connect with him due to his aggressive personality, but it seems to be the one that suits this scenario the best. His kindness has never been overt, but asking to spar with you might just be the biggest compliment someone like Bakugo can give. It means he sees you as someone capable of challenging him, and considering he thinks quite highly of himself, that's saying quite a bit.

"Oh?" You tilt your head to the side in confusion, "Is everything okay?"

His cheeks puff out for a moment or two before he responds. 

Ah. . . That was cute.

"I don't really know how to say it," he acknowledges, "so just. . . Just listen until I'm done."

The please he tacks on softly at the end is almost too soft for you to hear. You'd even call it desperate.

"Your performance at the Sports Festival was. . ." He pauses, searching for the right words.

"It was really good," Katsuki settles.

Now that he's thinking about it critically, it was there that he solidified his feelings, whether passively or otherwise. It was there that he felt his heart swell with pride for you, —much to his own bewilderment. He felt prouder of you than he did of himself, despite having won the entire thing. When he thinks back on that day, he feels slivers of anger, but the memories of watching you dominate in the first round from the bleachers really set him on fire. It soothes that ball of complete and utter rage inside of him, if only for a moment. It tempers him out for the first time in a long while, eases that ache inside that he tries his best to stuff down and ignore.

An ache that derives from his secret worry that he might never be enough.

"Oh, you think so?" You smile softly, and he feels himself melt a little, lips pulling upward before he can think twice about it.

"That means a lot, especially coming from the one who won the whole thing," you add.

"Winning isn't everything," he replies quickly.

Too quickly to filter his sentiments. Winning has always been important to him, —it's established him as a top contender for all areas of his life. It's been the thing he's fallen back on time and time again. No matter what anyone has ever said, Katsuki is a winner. He's the best.

But even when he wins, something inside always yearns for more. And sometimes it's more than he fears he could ever achieve. More than he could ever be.

"I didn't think you'd say something like that," you acknowledge, "—but I agree. And not just because I lost."

"It's still important to win, of course," he attempts to fix the mask that's slipped, —even now,— "but you did well, even if you lost. And that's good too."

"But not good enough?" You muse, half jokingly.

It goes over his head, to say the least.

"It's good enough," Bakugo says, tone low and firm.

It carries his characteristic bluntness, but lacks the aggression. There's something there that you can't quite place. . . Something you're not sure you're at liberty to ask about, not that you'd really know how in the first place.

"You're good enough."

His words take you aback. It's unlike him to say something so seemingly sentimental. Even so, you're left to wonder if he was saying that to you because he wanted you to say it back. Maybe he was talking to himself here as well.

Before you have the chance to say anything, he speaks again.

"I like you. I don't really know why, so don't go asking for details, —I just do. There's probably a lot of reasons, but I don't know how to say them, so just take it for what it is."

Take me for what I am. For what I'm yet to be as well.

You pause for a few seconds to process everything that's been thrown at you. You know you can't leave him hanging here, especially not after that. On the surface, you like Bakugo. He's a bit rough around the edges sometimes, but he's got his own ways of expressing gratitude and caring for those around him. He's got his own way of giving people compliments, —and he's way outside of his comfort zone right now. That much is obvious.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him, smiling gently.

He looks confused, but simply answers in spite of it.

"Kind of."

"Let's go get some dinner together, then," you suggest. "My treat."

He doesn't really get it, but if you're asking to spend time with him he figures that's not a rejection. Dinner together will give the both of you time to talk, —time to learn more about each other. After that, maybe those disjointed feelings of his will piece themselves together a little more.

Until then, you'll just enjoy his company. He's not a bad conversationalist once you get to know him.

𖦹. ━ KAMINARI !!

Kaminari is a wreck. The closer he gets to you, the more his heart pounds, and he's convinced himself that you can hear it no matter the physical distance between the two of you. These feelings are scary and they make him want to run away from it all, so far that he loses sight of them somewhere.

He asks Mina for advice, but that doesn't quite go as planned. She tries to take over, —tells him he should throw some kind of party and convince you to come so he can ask you to dance with him when a slow song plays.

"Then you'll confess, and by the time you do, y/n will have totally already fallen for you!"

Denki's not so sure about that. He's also nowhere near confident enough in his own dancing abilities to hinge his entire plan on them. Not to mention the fact that, while he can be oblivious to things, he caught on quickly enough that Mina just really wanted a reason to throw a party.

Count Kaminari out for that idea.

He turns to the internet next: a place of vast ideas. He considers buying you chocolate in one of those big, fancy, heart-shaped boxes; but Valentine's Day has already passed for the year, making those much harder to come by. Not to mention that he was far too nervous to ask about your preferences, —because what if you immediately realized what he was planning on doing? What if you rejected him right there before he really had the chance to properly confess?

Kaminari doubts you'd do anything of the sort, and even if you did, he knows it would be put gently, but his fear of humiliation wins out on that one.

No big, elaborate party to slow dance at. And no chocolate.

Flowers then? Everyone likes flowers, right? Everyone except for Bakugo, maybe, Denki notes. That might not even be true, but he has a certain hunch, —not that he plans on asking his easily agitated friend about that anytime soon.

Still, Kaminari ventures to the nearest flower shop one afternoon and asks one of the workers there for some help. They give him a variety of options: —red roses are classic, but in recent years, people have been giving their loved ones roses in their favorite colors instead. The yellow ones are bright and pretty, but the blue ones seem so elegant and refined. And that's simply one type of flower alone! There's tulips, which seem a little more playful but are still beautiful and smell so sweet, peonies, daisies that range in sunset colors, even sunflowers. . .

In the end, he leaves with nothing, feeling lost and confused. He considers other options over the following days as well.

Maybe he could have Sato bake you something? But what if he picks the wrong flavor, just like with the chocolate?

Scratch that, —maybe a teddy bear will do the trick! But what if you'd prefer something different, like a rabbit, or even a unicorn.

No teddy bear. Jewelry? Something handmade? Fancy skincare products?

By the end of the week, Denki has a trashcan full of crumpled papers, all discarded ideas that he found something wrong with. If only he put this much effort into his school assignments. . .

A comment from some random person on an anonymous message board is the one to seal the deal. When he asks what he should do, they respond by telling him "not to be a chicken, just do it lol."

Just do it?

Somehow he'd never really considered that as an option. . .

You're shocked to find a note slipped inside your desk on Monday morning. It doesn't have a name, but it asks you to meet the author of it at a park nearby after school, —in the little garden city officials planted a few springs ago, and now pay people to upkeep in the warmer months. You do as asked, but are cautious. It's daytime, there are many people around, and you have your cellphone on you just in case of an emergency. Better to be safe than sorry!

"Kaminari?" You question upon your arrival.

The poor boy nearly trips over himself spinning around toward you. He'd expected you to come from the other direction. . .

"Y/n, —hi," he manages to say without fumbling for words. "Nice day, huh?"

"Um, yeah! I heard it was supposed to rain, but I'm glad it didn't. I'd have gotten soaked on the way here, —I completely forgot my umbrella back at the dorms," you admit.

I didn't even consider the weather, he thinks. Ugh.

"Anyway, were you the one that wrote this?" You ask, holding up the note between two of your fingers.

"Yeah," he nods, nervousness practically seeping from every pore on his body. "I. . . I have something to tell you, and I didn't know where else we could go, so I thought this might be the best bet."

And I wrote the note because I was still worried about rejection, and wanted to hold onto the idea that it could work for just a while longer.

"Well, I'm all ears," you say softly.

His heart is pumping so loud he's afraid it might burst, but he forces his lips apart to speak.

"I have feelings for you," Denki says, catching you by surprise.

 "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

His edges soften when you crack a bashful smile.

"Yeah," you nod, "I'd like that."

He's too elated by your response to grieve all the hours he spent contemplating it. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it all came spilling out in a relieved sigh.

Thank you, anonymous message board user!

"Oh! And before I forget, —what do you think about all these flowers?"

𖦹. ━ TODOROKI !!

Overall, Todoroki considers himself to be someone who has pretty good control over his emotions. Sure, that might stem from his rough childhood where he was forced to swallow down his feelings to please others, —but in the end, he's learned to regulate himself quite well, for better or worse.

Even so, you've spun him out. He's floundering, despite hiding it like a master magician. He can keep all of it locked away inside, push it down until it's almost out of sight and out of mind, but it creeps back up to the forefront every chance it gets. It's keeping him awake. And he's almost ashamed to admit it, as someone who's been fairly soured on the idea of "true love," —whatever that's supposed to feel like. He acknowledges that he's both young and inexperienced, but can't shake the thought of you.

Shoto doesn't want to let anyone down. Not even those he's come to resent. After all his hard work, he thinks it would likely be a waste to give it all up now. . . But is that really what would happen if he acknowledged his own feelings? Is the forming of bonds really something that makes you weaker?

Or is that just another residual piece of his father talking from inside him?

"Todoroki," Midoriya nudges the split-haired boy, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He blinks himself back to reality.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Y/n's looking for you," Izuku repeats, "not sure why though."

"Oh. . . Okay, thanks," Shoto stands, "—where should I go?"

"School gates, probably!"

Todoroki thanks his friend again before rushing off. He's not sure why he's going so fast, it's not like he won't have the opportunity to speak with you at another point if he happens to miss you this time, but. . .

The truth is that he wants to see you. He wants to test things. He wants to pull away from whatever strings his father still holds over him. Shoto would rather hand them over to you.

"Todoroki!" You call out as soon as you see him, "there you are!"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm a little out of it today," he admits. "Do you need something?"

"Nothing in particular," you shake your head, "I just wanna talk, is all. You seem a little. . . Dejected lately."

You noticed? Nobody else had, as far as he was aware. If they had, they hadn't brought it to his attention, nonetheless taken the time to speak with him about it. He's almost ashamed to have let you see him in that state, —but more than that, he's glad someone has cared enough to ask.

The Sports Festival was hard for him; not because he lost, but because he was forced to reconcile with many different aspects of himself that he wasn't sure he was ready to face so adamantly. Still, he gets the feeling that whatever he says, you won't judge him for it, and definitely won't repeat it to anyone.

"I've had a lot on my mind since the Sports Festival," he sighs. "I don't know that I'm ready to get into it, even with myself."

"You don't have to," you assure him quickly. "Even if you never tell me anything, that's okay. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. I also. . . Just wanted to make sure you knew that I'd be here if you ever need someone to talk to."

To act on these feelings. . . Would that be wrong?

Todoroki smiles softly.

Bonds. . . Can also make you stronger, I believe.

"I appreciate that," he tells you. "Really. The way you care for people is admirable. I think it's one of the reasons I like you so much."

I am allowed to be honest with my feelings.

That takes you by surprise.

"Speaking of that, since school is over. . . Would you like to go get ice cream, or something? Just the two of us?"

This is not a sign of weakness.

"Y-Yeah!" You nod quickly, heart skipping a beat. "I know a place just a few minutes away!"

"Great," Shoto nods, relishing in the warm feeling that bubbles up from inside. "Lead the way."

This is a sign of strength.

#shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #shoto x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x you #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #denki x you #denki x y/n #bnha headcanons #bnha hcs #bakugo headcanons #bakugo hcs #kaminari hcs #denki hcs #denki headcanons #todoroki headcanons #todoroki hcs

[volcanicmertle]

closed starter: @fredelicious24

location: fred/hiro/victoria's (squad btw)

❛ — i should just quit while i'm ahead, ❜ mertle muttered to herself, her laptop propped up on her chest, knees bent over the arm of the couch lap, back pressed and practically sinking into fred's cushions with how long she had been in this position. mertle had read the same god damn powerpoint six times... and the information just seemed to be reflecting off her glass and projecting itself elsewhere— literally going anywhere besides her fucking brain. no matter how close she held the screen to her face, the letters looked just as jumbled and the content continued to make little to no sense. hearing footsteps, her head lulled to the side, a frown evident on her features as tired irises found fred's silhouette. ❛ this was a stupid idea. i can't believe i sold my table for a stupid laptop to take stupid classes for whatever stupid reason i decided to do that. can i give up now ?? ❜

#& fred f. #mertle studying at fred's #my roman empire

[itti-bitti-yibbi]

Here's the completed Skip Narry from the other day!

Also, a little fic thingy I wrote! (Unrelated to the au posts)

The gist of it is that Stanley had a nightmare (about Skip Button ending) and the Narrator comforts him

A crash, and a thud. The Narrator looked back toward the office, where Stanley had dozed off in the Employee Lounge, to find the man in question in a trembling ball on the floor.

"Stanley? What are you doing?"

No response. Stanley's hands were tucked against him as he curled up on the floor, and his thoughts were such a jumbled mess that The Narrator couldn't possibly make anything out.

"Oh goodness," The Narrator muttered, concerned, and frankly, feeling quite out of his depth. Emotions were not exactly his strong suit. "Perhaps- perhaps I should leave you be for a bit-"

At this Stanley jolted upward frantically, revealing his puffy eyes and tear-stained face.

'Nono! Don't leave!'

The Narrator paused, then sighed. It appeared he was going to have to deal with this after all. He proceeded to project himself into one of his smaller forms, blinking into existence a few feet in front of Stanley.

The man watched as he sat down across from him, folding his hands in his lap.

"I suppose you've had a nightmare, then."

Stanley nodded, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Stanley hesitated, glanced at The Narrator's face, looked away again, and shook his head.

The Narrator sighed again. "Then what am I doing here?"

Stanley swiped at the tears pricking his eyes. 'Can you just... Talk? About something- anything.'

The Narrator, blinked in surprise. "You're asking me to talk? That's- Stanley did you hit your head or something? You've never seemed much for my ramblings before. What kind of nightmare-"

He was interrupted by Stanley essentially tackling him, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his face into The Narrator's shoulder. The Narrator, thoroughly confused, returned the embrace gingerly.

"Goodness Stanley, you've never been so clingy before," The Narrator mumbled, patting Stanley's back as he spoke. "I can't imagine what sort of nightmare could have possibly provoked this behavior."

Stanley only responded by gripping The Narrator even tighter, almost painfully so. The Narrator sighed and raised a hand to Stanley's hair.

"It's alright, Stanley, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He kept a soothing tone, gently stroking Stanley's hair as the man cried silently into his shoulder.

"You're alright. Everything is going to be okay. I'm here. You're here. You're safe. All is well."

'I'm sorry.'

"Oh Stanley, whatever could you be sorry for? You haven't done anything."

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'msorryimsorryimsorryimsorry-'

Stanley's mind continued to repeat the same phrase, over and over, as his sobbing began anew.

"Oh Stanley..." The Narrator said again, holding the same soothing tone, despite how Stanley's behavior frightened him. He tightened his own grip on the man, feeling the sobs rack his body.

"Oh my dear, dear Stanley. I can't even imagine what you might have dreamt to make you feel this way, I'm basically immune to anything you could possibly do to a person. Whatever happened in that dream isn't real, it's just your silly little brain putting random bits of information together into an incoherent training exercise for your consciousness to do while your body is resting."

Stanley shook his head just a tiny bit, most likely to himself. The man's apologetic mantra had stopped, replaced yet again by muddled half-thoughts that The Narrator couldn't make sense of.

The Narrator hummed a little bit.

"You know, Stanley, every time I think I've got you figured out, you do something like this, that surprises me." The Narrator chuckled. "I never would have expected you to ask me to just sit here and speak to you, under any circumstances. I was under the impression that you were sick and tired of me."

A momentary pause.

"I prefer this, more."

Stanley nodded, his face still pressed into the Narrator's shoulder.

'Me too.'

The Narrator closed his eyes, listening to Stanley's breathing even and his heartbeat slow as he calmed himself. For a moment, The Narrator even allowed himself to enjoy the warmth that radiated from the man in his arms.

After several moments of silence between the two, Stanley released his hold on The Narrator, breaking the embrace. He sat back, and they looked at each other.

'Thank you.'

The Narrator cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Yes, well... You're welcome."

Stanley smiled, wiping his face clear and getting to his feet. He reached out, offering his hand to The Narrator to help him to his feet.

'Let's go on now.'

The Narrator looked at Stanley's hand for a moment before taking it, and letting the man pull him to his feet.

"Yes, let's."

#stanarrator #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #the stanley parable: ultra deluxe #tspud #the narrator #tsp #tsp fanart #tsp stanley #stanley parable ultra deluxe #tsp narrator #the stanley parable #the stanley parable narrator #tspud fanart #tspud stanley #tspud narrator

[sexybabystevie]

hi em!! <3

i have a little steve thought: he gets REALLY affectionate when he's sleepy. he also gets really honest.

ive seen people who hc that steve is really touchy and affectionate when he's drunk,, but not enough people talking about when he's tired.

just imagine steve and reader are having a sleepover, and steve is 2 seconds away from passing out, but he stays up with reader.

he talks about how pretty reader is, how much he loves his voice (bonus if he says he wants to fall asleep to reader's voice).

one night,, he tells you "i want you" in the BEST sleepy voice you've heard.

(im sorry if this was very unorganized my bad)

ela!!!! this is so cute, i love it!!! i'm such a sucker for very affectionate steve, you have NO idea lol

you're close friends with steve, always hanging out together and spending the night at his place when his parents are gone (which is more often than not). you've gotten glimpses of his clinginess, something that you think is adorable, but he still tries to hide it from you. sometimes it's autonomous, the way he'll pout at you when you're going home the night after your sleepovers, saying something like, "you're leaving already? it's not even 5pm yet..." or when you're sitting closely next to him on the couch and you get up to go to the bathroom, leaving him without your warmth, letting out a soft whimper that he tries to cover up with a fake cough. you never really thought much of it, thinking that he probably was embarrased or that you were reading too closely into things, until one night during on of your routine sleepovers.

you're sleeping over at your place this time, sitting upright in bed, plastered under the covers as you talk into the early hours of the morning. steve's laying next to you, eyes sleep-hazed and droopy as he softly nods along to the story you're telling him. something about some guy who annoyed you today while you were out shopping. steve isn't fully there, he's as enthusiastic as he can be, but he's also exhausted. too exhausted. a long shift at family video and hours of being the personal chauffeur to six teenagers, and steve harrington is barely awake by the mere hour of 9pm, much less the current midnight when you're talking his ear off.

he doesn't mind, of course. he's tired, completely energyless, really, but he's far too captivated by your every move, every word, to tell you to stop. he's humming gently along to whatever you have to say, agreeing that yes, the guy was a jerk for shoving you out of the way to get some baby carrots.

slowly, his walls are deteriorating, both due to you and the comfort you bring him and the mental exhaustion settling over him, clouding his mind and deeming him a little more open than usual. a little less likely to keep his mouth shut, his typical filter being washed away with the tides of fatigue. it's not long before your voice is a jumble of words, beautiful and rhythmic melodies to his ears, and his mind gets stuck, instead, on the sight of you so passionately speaking, hair more messy than normal as you sit in your pajamas. there's a strong intimacy that comes with seeing you like this, as if steve could get used to seeing this every night and every morning – as if steve might want to see it every night and every morning – and he can't stop the words that are tumbling from his lips before he has any time to really dwell on them.

"you're so pretty," he says, voice breathless and genuine, a hint of something deeper underlying it, and you're taken aback, thinking that he must be far too tired to think straight.

"why don't we stop talking and‐"

"no," he's quick to cut you off, lazily attempting to shake his head. instead, his hair only falls into his eyes, which he barely notices in his exhaustion induced stupor. he wraps his arm around the closest part of you that he can reach – your leg – and nuzzles into you, sighing happily and pulling himself as close to you as he can. "keep talkin'. pretty voice could put me to sleep."

you're flustered and a little hesitant, unsure of the way that he's suddenly acting, but you end up giving in to his requests anyway, the feeling of his warm body latched onto your leg surprisingly comforting. you sit and talk until he falls asleep, voice softer and more purposefully calming, and it doesn't take long for him to be softly snoring against your pajama pants.

that was only the first time something of that nature had happened, and it seems that it had been a gateway into it recurring. one time turned to two, then three and four times that he sat next to you, so sleepy that he let himself give in to the urge to cling to you like you were something more than just his friend. each time is the same, sleepy, admiring eyes, lowered voice mumbling on about you in an endearing tone. before long, you're secretly looking forward to your sleepovers, if just because steve would adorably wrap onto you like you were everything he ever wanted.

it was almost an easy way to delude yourself into thinking that he really wanted you in that way. that he wasn't simply exhausted out of his mind and looling for any physical comfort that he could get. but that was until things escalated again.

you're in his bed, whispering, trying not to flinch away from his touch on your shoulders, something new that he seemed to like doing to you during these moments. his fingers absently trace along your skin, hand under the sleeve of your shirt just so he could be able to really feel you. you keep talking, about anything you can think of that might distract you from the feeling of his skin on yours – how good and right it seems – and you watch as he slowly closes his eyes, breathing steadying and fingers stopping in their path along your shoulder.

you think he's asleep for good, but you keep softly whispering anyway, knowing from prior experience that talking for a few extra minutes afterward seemed to keep him at rest. you admire his resting features, so close that you can feel his breath on your arm but also so far, and that's when he rustles around and his eyes flutter open. he looks at you with the fondness of someone looking at the stars, and if that didn't make your heart beat ten times faster, then what he said next certainly did the trick.

voice low, a velvet rumble from his exhausted state, he gives you all the certainty of the world in a single, hazy gaze and says, "i want you," before shifting his arms so that he can burying his face against your stomach. the sound of his tone, the earnestness of his words, and the hidden undertones behind them have your stomach filling with butterflies, and you can't help the way you relax into his touch, hands moving on their own to softly tangle through his hair. you feel both like you're on fire and at sea, body aflame but also at peace, and somehow you fall asleep faster than you ever have before, the warmth from steve's body melting into yours and heating your very soul.

needless to say, you hoped that this new happening of your sleepovers became habit, and surely enough, with great thanks to the way steve harrington's mind completely empties of coherant thoughts late at night, it does.

#em speaks #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanons #ela🌷 #asks #steve thoughts tm

[miillloooo]

Something experimental I tried with oil pastel????"?" Was feeling pretty awful so I tried drawing something with oil pastel for fun. Felt a little better👍

Unedited ver + kind of my thoughts behind this drawing under this cut.

Uhhhh also a very messy explanation on what I was thinking when I drew this sorry if my sentences are jumbled. If you don't wanna read it here's a very short summary: "I've been thinking alot ever since I'm getting older and I want to stop thinking and go back to being some naive child I used to be."

I made like a whole essay about my thoughts it's okay if you don't wanna read it💀

I guess this whole drawing was my way of expressing how I felt knowing I'm growing older. Ever since I turned 16 and being a teacher's child loved by many, the only thing I started thinking about is my worth in many stuff like work potential, art potential and academic potential???? Idk how to explain it but I'm only thinking about my worth in all aspects to make sure I maintain a perfect student image. Ever since I kept thinking about my worth, everything got really worse especially during exams. I get beyond dissapointed and I'd cry lots when I get below 70 or 60. Worse if I get below 80 in language (both in my native language) and arts. It's like I was pointing a gun at myself, mess up once and I'd die. Because that's what it's like with my mom. She gets VERY disappointed if I get below those score and she'd constantly shame me and say she would've taken my friend (who's smarter than me) as her daughter instead of me. I kind of hate her since she only thinks about money and fame.

17 years old I'm starting to think about more and more about myself. What if I'm too childish to people around me? What if I were to put my teacher's child image to shame? What if my mother gets disappointed at me again for the smallest things? I studied and studied alot to be a perfect child to her, making sure I maintain a perfect score and stuff in arts and all. But of course she still gets disappointed if I didn't get am 80 or 85 or whatever. Worst part is I'm literally every teacher's hope, especially my arts teacher that knows about my skills and stuff. Everything started to feel like a mess from here. I started to enjoy the things I once enjoyed less, I started to hate the way I act, I started to hate the way I keep on trying knowing my mother will be disappointed anyways. It's gotten bad I attempted like twice that year and even almost had an urge to get some pills to see if I can get some sort of relief after almost a whole year messed up. But at least I'm still alive and 'healthy' so there's that yippee🎉. Also I'm envious with my irl friend circle's art skills and how their paintings are better than me so I've been trying to isolate myself from them. My friends became an example in art paintings TWICE and it's usually me so I've gotten so envious and mentally losing it a little. Even my friend that's ass in drawing got a compliment instead of me. Also my art teacher told me that I was being 'cocky and prideful' when I wasn't making any progress in my painting during some art improvement program for the art students. I would've screamed at him about how I was feeling but it'll give a bad image of me since I'm a prime example so I stayed quiet and skipped my at class the rest of the day. It's getting exhausting and now I'm losing motivation to paint or even draw for myself.

And 2024 I'm kind of technically 18 all my thoughts are only getting worse. My emotions are a bit out of control, probably worse than last year and I'm feeling exhausted and tired for the start of 2024. Currently taking a HUGE exam before I graduate highschool and it literally decides my future, of course my mother plays the part as the one that pressures me and guilt trips me. Arts exam is coming soon and my mind is in absolute shambles. The only thing I think is if it'll be good enough and if I'll be able to make one of the few most perfect paintings out of the other 30k whatever whatever candidates out there. Knowing there's people better than me I'm getting tired in wanting to even pick up my brush. Hell even looking at an empty drawing paper makes me go haywire and eat the paper because I feel like it.

Now I'm rethinking about my whole life after I became 16, and I kind of wished I wasn't pressuring myself so much for the sake of validation and some words of affection and praise from my classmates or parents or teachers. I think joining the art class in my school made me graduate highschool mentally exhausted and overwhelmed at my hobby that I used to really cherish and was passionate about. Now I'm just really wishing I could turn back time and be a kid again so I can relax a little. At least a little.

#milodrawin #art #oil pastel #does this count as vent art. #if I were to title this thing I'd probably name it something like “happy 18” or “I want to be youthful again” #idc if my childhood is absolutely horrific I want to be a kid again #but overall I'm part happy with how everything turned out in the end I should use oil pastels more #cw vent

[silvercap]

winter is coming, so, may i ask for -

🌨️ Stuck in cold weather - with Leon (but of course not alone)

(anonymously, because - funny thing - i'm still not sure what i'm doing here, knowing nothing about this universe, but enjoying local whump soo much <3 )

I'm glad you're liking it!!!! So sorry this took me forever to write but here you go <333

🌨️ Stuck in Cold Weather

Leon shudders against the icy winter wind, frigid river water trailing down his back and freezing his hair into icicles against his cheek. He stumbles, blinking to clear the haze in his vision as he struggles to keep himself upright. There's a voice in his ear---Chris, he thinks, those familiar warm tones rumbling worriedly at him---but he can't make out what the words are saying, too focused on the fact that he can't quite coordinate his limbs. His thighs feel like they're being pricked with thousands of needles through the heavy fabric of his frozen jeans, the skin alight with a ghostly cold flame. The hood of his drenched winter jacket does little to block the whipping gale as it rips into his cheeks, the muscles of his face as numb and unwieldy as his hands and feet. They feel a bit like elastic bands that haven't been stretched, the resistance of movement made more difficult by the unrelenting cold that digs its way into Leon's very bones.

Time stretches and blurs as he stumbles aimlessly through snowdrifts, a vast expanse of white that flickers and blurs when he tries to make sense of where he is. Does it even matter? Chris says something in his ear and Leon laughs, a bubble of euphoria popping in his chest at the sound of it. God, he loves Chris. Leon turns to look for him and frowns when he can't find him at Leon's shoulder, the heavy winter coat weighing him down when he tries to angle his neck correctly. Speaking of which, it's hot, too, the oppressive fabric trapping the heat so close to Leon's body that he feels like he's drowning in fire. He needs to take it off. Now, before he overheats.

"Chris," he slurs into the air, whatever he'd been about to say disappearing under the relief of cool air when he finally manages to unzip the jacket. He sighs, letting the coat drop. Won't need that anymore, not with how warm he is. The breeze is soothing on his skin, and Leon blinks sleepily, yawning. He's so tired all of a sudden, but something tells him he shouldn't take a break. But why not? His thoughts are washed away by another cold wave of heat, and he stumbles, eyes closing against the dizziness.

"Leon?" Loud voices break through his reverie, and Leon blinks hazily awake to find himself on his back, Chris's face hovering above him. His eyes are wide, and Leon frowns.

"What's wrong?" he tries to ask, but it comes out in a mumble. He can't move his arms. Someone else is talking, a steady stream of jumbling syllables he can't make sense of, and Leon groans. What the hell is happening? Something heavy wraps around him, the world dissolving into a blank expanse of white. He finds himself looking at the underside of Chris's unshaven jaw a moment later, his familiar dark hair tucked under a wool hat and the hood of a fluffy parka. It makes him look like a teddy bear, and Leon laughs.

"You're okay," Chris murmurs, glancing down with glassy eyes, and Leon does his best to smile. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay? Try to stay awake."

"Y'look like a---like a bear," Leon tries, but Chris just looks even more concerned. The words seem to float around Leon's head like cartoon stars, bumping the inside of his skull as they flutter away into nothingness. What was he saying? He can't breathe right, chest too tight and so cold it leaves him without air. He groans, and Chris tucks him impossibly closer, the heat of his body burning like ice against Leon's shoulder. Leon laughs. " 's cute."

He blacks out.

#ask game #whump #my fics #Thanks anon!! <3 #:)) #hypothermia

[scenetocause]

i have been summonsed by powerful forces (princess maxy, nadia)

(nsfw, mpreg, has-a-pussy max)

"Maaaaaaax," Lando's extra fucking whiny today and it'd be getting on Max's nerves, if it wasn't also getting him a lot of extra attention. Lando's main focus for whining, in fact, seems to be him - checking on Max's wellbeing, shooting Matt and Kate evil looks when Max threw up after biting the century egg, fussing over him and insisting on checking Max's overalls fitted properly for the karting.

Max is pretty sure the last one was a completely transparent excuse to feel him up, since Lando's now got his stupidly big hands on Max's hips, through the dress and is rubbing his thumbs over Max's hipbones.

"What?" he manages to say, reaching out for Lando, too. "You look more pregnant than I do, now."

Lando wrinkles his nose. "Should you be karting? Like, that can't be good. I can make them get someone else, you don't have to do this - you threw up earlier. I'm sure Ria'd be fine if we-"

"Mate," Max has to stretch his neck to bump their noses together, over the Mario belly and their increasingly noticeable height difference. "I'm fine. Worry about yourself, you dick."

"You should've had the Peach outfit," Lando's frowning. "I don't want you stolen by Steve."

"As if." Max nuzzles him again, not about to start making out behind the shower building but Lando's clearly feeling sensitive, particular, all that skin-prickly stuff Max knows on him so well. "You'll just have to win, make all the princesses swoon over you."

Lando nods much too seriously for something as stupid as what they're doing and Max is struck, for maybe the millionth time in his life, by how much he likes Lando. Fortunately, seeing as there's going to be no getting away from each other for the next eighteen years or so, he's not being a single dad.

"Can you - like, not if it gets ruined or whatever but maybe, you could bring this home? Not the overalls, just..."

"Oh fuck off," he'd known Lando was having some sort of moment over Max in a dress, has always been into dressing Max up, formed a fucking entire company basically specifically for that purpose. But also Max is way too far down the line to not know he's a total simp. "Yeah, alright, I can wear it later. Lose the Mario suit though, the dungarees aren't working for me."

Lando's face splits into a crinkly-eyed grin and a cackle of laughter. "You don't like me like this? In twenty years this is gonna be all real, baby."

"You are not," Max gives up on decency and kisses him quickly, before stepping away - they do have to go and film, after all. "Ever going to be able to grow a mustache. Not even in twenty years."

-

The filming goes well, even if Max is freezing by the end of it and has to suffer through both Lando's completely excessive elation from winning (man's been on a Monaco podium, get over it) and then being draped in blankets and fed tea and listening to Lando scold the team for letting Max be put at risk of a mild cold.

He tries his best to ignore it, as well as some lingering nausea that karting really didn't help and then actually does pack the dress away into his bag, while he's getting changed. If anyone notices him doing it then they're probably already blind from Lando pressing himself right up against Max's back when he was halfway through changing, to trace patterns on Max's stomach. I ♡ you is a cringey message for either Max or the little jumble of cells somewhere in him or both.

If he was a sensible man, which has to allow all evidence points to him not being, he wouldn't have let Lando Norris knock him up. But he has, so this is his life now.

Max is tired by the time they're on the way home. To Max's house, decisions about how they're going to figure their living situation out on hold until the three month scan, at least. Lando drives them and Max snoozes in the passenger seat, waiting to hear the crunch of driveway gravel that means he needs to find his keys.

Lando helps him out of the car and Max doesn't need it but doesn't fight it, either. Neurotic and annoying though Lando's bursts of caring for him can be, he enjoys knowing someone's thinking of him - especially when it's the person he thinks about all the time, too.

By the time they're showered and stripped down for bed he really doesn't want to faff around with a costume that smells of petrol and axle grease. Fortunately, Lando's either forgotten about it or just wants Max too much to introduce any elaborate barriers to it, drawing him into the bed and settling him back into the pillows so Lando can check over every inch of him for any possible injuries, like Max's body is precious.

He kisses under Max's belly button, mouth open and hot and Max feels his cheeks burn with how much he blushes, undone by Lando loving him like this. They've always played rough with each other but ever since Lando got him to take the test it's been a little more lavish, Lando taking care of him.

Max, honestly, isn't complaining if it means he gets a twice weekly back rub and Lando kissing his tits. And Lando's always been it for him, really, as much as he's sometimes fought it. It's nice just being together easily, with some idea of how it's going to work out, now. Having babies, getting married, Max can stand at the back of the garage, papaya-ear-protected toddler on one hip and tell them daddy's going to win again.

By the time Lando gets down to his clit Max is already wet, anticipating getting Lando inside him. His mouth's equally wet and there's a sopping mess between Max's legs after about 30 seconds, Lando trying to lap it up just making it worse.

His fingers feel so good, a familiar weight inside Max. They know the ways around each other so well, from the way Max knows Lando likes his balls played with when he's getting a blow job to the way Lando can make Max come in about 45 seconds just from fingering him, sometimes. It's not that no one else has ever made him come, Jake was pretty good at it, it's just that no one else has made him come the way Lando does; again and again, each one stronger than the last.

It takes three before Lando's satisfied, moves back up Max's body and slides his dick into him. The very first time they'd fucked Max had been surprised by how big Lando is, how he seemed like the perfect fit for Max and still does, years later.

"Baby," Lando bites at his ear lobe, breathing the taste of Max against his cheek. "I love you."

"I know you do," Max moves his own hand up, to cup Lando's face so they can kiss without bashing noses. "I love you too. We're gonna love them, as well."

"Mrgngh-" Lando makes an extremely strangled noise, tucks his head into Max's shoulder and stills. "Fuck. Fuck, holy shit."

"You're err, into that then, Bob?" Max rubs his shoulders, keeps his legs round Lando's waist, feeling him pulse inside him.

"Dunno. I just like - I'd kind of forgotten, 'cause we were just having sex and then like, oh. I'm into you."

Max nearly snorts because that's incredibly not news but also Lando is very devoted to him. He loves Lando, wants their little family so much.

"Let me, just," Lando shuffles around, pulling out and Max hears his own little whiny noise about it. "Alright, I've got you."

Another two orgasms later - and Max has always known Lando's into eating his own cum out of Max, so frankly it's more a treat for him - they curl up together, Lando spooning him with his hand between Max's legs.

His big, strong forearm is over Max's tummy and it feels nice, protected. He might be the one doing most of the work, here but Lando can look after them both sometimes, at least.

The man in question is snoring against Max's neck, until he shifts a bit and clearly half-wakes Lando up, who just pulls him closer and buries his nose deeper in Max's hair.

"My princess," Lando mumbles, just when Max is falling asleep and he'd - normally, he doesn't put up with that kind of shit, he's a boy for god's sake but well, maybe just this once.

#emptyhalf fic

[binarybitex]

monday, 04/08/2024

below the cut: updates on Heart Hollow, a snippet from today's writing, as well as a little peek into my busy body kind of day :-)

genuinely such a productive day. I slept for like 14 hours, had some wacky dreams, and woke up feeling completely revitalized !!

I wanted to get some writing done this morning but ahhh kinda stressed out. this week I have a lot of responsibilities to tend to. so I decided to just get a bunch of chores done and brainstorm out loud to myself as I tidied up. and wow what a motivation tactic! I have so much fun just spit balling while doing mindless tasks like cleaning that I just... kept cleaning!

I went to the grocery store too, and made chocolate chip cookies for me and my partner. took a shower to wash off all the cleaning chemicals I felt lingering on my skin. yucky. thinking about it, all I had to eat today was a coke zero and a chocolate chip cookies. no wonder my stomach hurts lmao

I wrote down some of the ideas I've had over the weekend. I'm reworking the structures of books 2 and 3. it's hard not to get too ahead of myself... I still have a first book to finish!! ahhh.... I just think book 2 is going to be a lot of fun to write. I just love writing romance so much.

around sundown I decided to actually sit down and open up Heart Hollow. the past week or so I've been aching to rework what I have for chapter 10. like I've been saying, this chapter has been killing me for months. I think I finally got it down though.... I really needed to consider what lewis was feeling after certain events in the upcoming chapter Boss Babysitter. (so hard to talk about it without spoiling !!)

i wrote until a quarter till midnight and now I'm finally laying down in bed ..... had to force myself bc my document was starting to look like a jumbled mess to my tired eyes lmao... oh and I guess bc I have time sensitive responsibilities tomorrow too.... whatever tho 🙄 lol

and, from today's writing burst, a little snippet. the only snippet I could share that doesn't flat out spoil anything aaagghh.......

eeeeek I can't wait for boss babysitters release. I know I keep saying that I JUST want to be prepared before I send it out into the world. id like to have more writing on deck so I don't leave y'all hanging on ANOTHER cliff hanger for months ...... sorry about that btw. I know the mirror break is a fat fucking ball to drop and leave off on..... lmao 💀

#when will i get to be a stay at home boywife that writes novels in between tending to the house. WHEN. #its unfair that i have to make money. bc i raise you: i HAVE to write heart hollow!!! #i had a moment today where i was reading my work and i was like.... bro wtf i wrote this?? #it was like an out of body experience but for my own writing. #writing hh just comes so naturally to me. like the story lives up in my brain and im just the vessel its chosen to get it out into the world #its crazy for me to say that but its honest to god the truth. yes i labor over it but its purely out of love and admiration #ok i guess its bed time... ooooh yippee i get to deliberate over hh before i go to bed!! #heart hollow #max speaks #writing update #wip update #novel update #indie project #indie novel #book update #indie books #oc #original characters #oc writing #original writing #tumblr writers #ocs #heart hollow update

[bmodiwrites]

I got some good advice to break some of my bigger stories up into parts. Though it's posted all together on AO3, I'm going to put small bits of this story here on tumblr. Warnings for part one include minor character death & angst.

Fall 2013

Dropping down from the main deck of the rig, Eddie let gravity carry him until he spotted the electrical box he was looking for. The tug of coming to an abrupt stop made his heart race. After almost 13 years, Eddie’s job never got old.

Readjusting his position on the pole, Eddie pulled at his harness to make sure it would hold him, then climbed like a monkey across the rafters. His experience, quick skill, and computer know how made it easy to pry open the front of the box and fix the problem without a struggle.  

Eddie raised his hand so John could see the thumbs up he was giving once all the pieces were back in place – al l they needed to do was transfer the power back into the main system and things would be back to running like normal. He’d been taking care of this rig for so long, Eddie almost had a second sense about it.

A smiling John called out to him, “how’d you managed to do that, Munson?” It was both praise and reassurance that his effort had been successful.

“I’m just a roughneck that got lucky, I guess,” Eddie said back, shooting his boss a grin of his own.

After climbing back up and getting unbuckled, the rest of the Eddie’s work day flew by. Their periods of actively extracting the oil meant all hands on deck and his old ass was no exception. Despite his seniority and the new title he just received, Eddie was a work with his hands kind of guy, through and through. He treasured the moments he got to distract himself with a little manual labor.

Bone tired by the final whistle, Eddie didn’t linger around like he usually would. For some reason, his thoughts were drifting to a place Eddie didn’t often allow himself to visit. His usual routine of reading on the upper deck wouldn’t suffice. Not when a real distraction was needed. Sleep was the only solution after a long day of tough work.

Maybe it was the slight chill in the air that said fall was coming or maybe it was the vivid color of the sunset he just watched paint the sky that made him think of home. Whatever the case was, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from obsessing over deep violet tulips and honey hazel eyes. It was maddening to always be haunted by the one thing that got away.

Yet, Eddie never failed to give into the weakness when the desire to think of Steve inevitably came back around. 19 years and that boy still had so much control over him.

In a desperate attempt to not fall down the rabbit hole any further, Eddie climbed out of his bunk a couple of hours later and joined the hustle of the late crew on deck. Without work to do, Eddie could lean over the far side railings and enjoy the darkness. The night was clear and gorgeous, not a cloud in sight. Eddie knew then that his vision of the stars would be unhindered. Whenever his life got all jumbled, the sight of those bright pin drops in the sky usually leveled him out.

Yet, inner peace just wasn’t meant to be.

Instead of blanking out Eddie’s mind and leading him away from his thoughts of Steve, the all too familiar constellations made the vision of his childhood sweetheart so much more clear in his mind. They spent so many nights sitting up in their secret spot, talking under the stars, loving each other.

Eddie couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Steve still took the time to look up. Despite the distance between them, they still had the night sky in common.

That would never change.

----

At that very same moment, hundreds of miles away, Steve walked onto his front porch to take a seat on the first stair, his very favorite spot. Settling his feet on the wood, Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on bent knees. It was the first clear night in more than a week, so he felt a little eager to glance up and see the night stars again. He took in a long breath before tilting his head up. Hazel eyes locked onto the North Star; upon seeing it, Steve’s chest loosened – he could finally breath again.

The serene silence of the night was swiftly interrupted by the squeaky springs of the screen door opening. Steve didn’t need to turn at all to know Dustin was approaching. His son never missed an opportunity to question him when the mood to star gaze struck him. Steve was always at his most vulnerable and easy to get information from.  

Sliding over slightly, Steve patted the space next to him, inviting Dustin to sit without saying a word.

“What are you doing out here, dad?”

Dustin spoke as he sat down, sidling up to Steve like he’d always done.

Allowing himself to lean into the teen’s side, Steve mumbled “thinking.” It wasn’t an adequate answer, they both knew that. So he added, “putting off doing the dishes,” just to be placating. Dustin obviously wanted to talk, there was no use ignoring it.

“It is nice out here. The sky’s clear.”

Laughing a little, Steve bumped their shoulders together. “It’s beautiful.” The view they were currently taking in was the main reason Steve wanted the house in the first place. It was Steve’s only request when Robin asked to relocate after her break up with Vickie.

Dustin turned his head, looking serious for a fleeting moment. “Yeah, it is.”

“How are you doing?” Steve asked. His attention was caught now; Dustin wasn’t one to beat around the bush so doing so immediately made Steve suspicious. Then again, the boy seemed a bit more anxious than nefarious.

Steve understood why when Dustin said “I’m just thinking about the fall. About leaving. What’s going to happen to me. You know, just the rest of my life.” They locked eyes for a second, sharing a knowing glance.

Without thought, Steve unfolded his arm to wrap it snugly around Dustin’s shoulder. Remembering a different time and place for a second, Steve repeated Eddie’s whispered words – he still recalled them so vividly. “Did you know there are whole civilizations that used to believe they could see their destinies in the stars?”

They both looked up then, the stark brightness of the sky pulling them in.

All of the sudden, completely out of nowhere, Steve jolted as an odd feeling settled in his gut. He trailed off his words, practically freezing on the spot.

Dustin was quick to ask “Dad, are you okay?” but Steve couldn’t respond. His heart raced too wildly as the thought of Eddie Munson and imminent danger settled over him. Something was wrong, Steve could feel it in his bones. After all these years, that red string that existed between himself and the boy that broke his heart never snapped apart or came untethered. And though Steve ignored it most of the time, whatever was happening was too big to push away now.

The love he still felt for Eddie Munson just wouldn’t let him.

----

Caught up in his musings about Steve and the stars and all the destiny bull shit that always got under his skin, Eddie didn’t feel the shaking at first. His attention wasn’t caught until a large barrel a few feet from him started to clank back and forth on the metal grate below. Risking one last glance at the night sky, Eddie prepared himself for the worst.

Rumbling on a rig only meant one thing.

As the thought went through his head, the highly pressurized sound of oil pushing up the channel they drilled earlier that very day played in Eddie’s ears. A second later, an eruption of backed-up oil burst through the surface and all hell broke loose.

Eddie watched pipes fly through the air and some of his men duck for cover. It was utter chaos as everyone scattered, desperately running for their lives. Instead of joining the masses, Eddie geared up to help in whatever way possible.

Running towards a couple of his guys struggling to get down the stairs, Eddie was forcibly stopped by a fiery explosion. The blowout was going to take the entire rig down at this rate. He flew back a few feet and hit the ground hard. With ringing in his ears, Eddie got back up and started running again – there were too many of his men still lingering around to give up.

Stan, one of the guys he frequently sat with during lunch, was out cold on the ground, still in the destruction’s line of fire. Eddie got to him fast; he had to fireman’s carry him over to a spot much safer than his previous one, but they made it. As he sat Stan down, Eddie noticed one of his newest guys trapped in by the explosion’s fire. He turned to head in that direction but was stopped once again by another, bigger boom.

This time, Eddie went flying over the side of the rig, falling hundreds of feet down into the choppy water below.

Sinking down, down, down, Eddie closed his eyes and let the image he’d been trying to push out of his mind finally play all the way through. He watched as a young Steve Harrington came bounding towards him, a smile on that glorious face. The yellow sweater Eddie loved so much made him look bright and lively like the tulips surrounding him.

Warmth embraced him and a darkness took him under.

If this was the end, Eddie was going to die a happy man.

----

“You’re the company’s hero, Mr. Munson.”

The doctor was looking at him seriously, like Eddie wasn’t aware of his current situation or the absurdity of it. He was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he was alive at all. His continuous existence defied all odds.

“That man you saved is going to be just fine. If your vitals stay stable, we can get you checked out by this evening.” The doctor flipped to the front of Eddie’s chart, then removed his glasses to look up at him again.

“It’s incredible. You were in the water for almost five hours without any evidence of hypothermia. The fall alone should have killed you. It’s a miracle you’re alive, Mr. Munson. There’s no other explanation.”

Letting that thought linger in the back of his mind, Eddie got through the rest of the conversation on autopilot. After so many years of being alone, existing with a never ending pain in his heart and soul, Eddie gave up the idea that his life actually meant something. He could contribute by doing his job well, though that was the extent of it.

Eddie figured that living through something otherwise impossible changed the game a bit. That, after years of beating himself up and going through life at half mast, he had a second chance at things. Eddie hadn’t felt this confident in years. What a better time to get his shit together than right now, when he was at his lowest with the open world before him?

The universe seemed to agree.

A couple of days later, Eddie was standing outside of his boss’s trailer when the new cell phone he bought after his accident started to ring.

----

Pushing down one of the green candles further into the cake, Steve looked up just in time to watch Dustin dive into the pool. A soft smile slipped over his lips as a huge splash followed, soaking some of his friend’s lingering around the edge of the pool. The sound of laughter made Steve forget the odd feeling he hadn’t been able to push away for days now.

Dustin climbed out of the pool with a mischievous look on his face. Steve saw him approaching in a way that meant he would not stay dry for very long. Before that could happen, however, Steve’s dad grabbed Dustin’s hand, demanding his attention.

“Did you decide on a major yet, Dustin?”

Steve couldn’t help the grimace that followed that question. Instead of being happy for his grandson’s success, Harrington Senior had to ruin the fun. There was never a moment in which Steve’s dad ever recognized a situation for what it was. Dustin was still trying to figure himself out, a goddamn college major was the last thing on the kid’s mind.

Ever the genius, Dustin navigated himself away from the conversation by saying, “the only thing I’m worried about, Granddad, is the sight of Suzy on the beach in a bikini. College stuff can wait.” He didn’t let anyone argue with him, either – Dustin took off towards the pool to once again splash all of his friends.

Steve watched on affectionately until his dad glared in his direction. Not wanting to deal with that, Steve turned towards the house and made a hasty exit. They needed more napkins before they cut the cake, anyway.

Halfway to the kitchen, Steve felt the vibration of his phone against his thigh. The new piece of technology was confusing, but he at least knew how to answer a call. “Hello, Harrington residence.”

The voice on the other side of the line was unrecognizable, though Steve listened closely, anyway. “I’m looking for Steve Harrington. I’m calling on behalf of Wayne Munson.”

At the mention of Wayne’s name, Steve’s stomach dropped. It’d been a few months since the last time he drove into Hawkins to check up on his surrogate father. Steve never figured the menial sickness Wayne told him about would take him out.

“Uh, yeah – this is Steve Harrington.”

“Hello, Mr. Harrington. I’m the estate attorney for Mr. Munson. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Mr. Munson died in his sleep last night. He was 72.”

Unable to help himself, Steve let out a sob. Wayne was the vision of a father that Steve always needed. That old man came into his life at a time where nothing made sense. Though Eddie mostly helped to fix that problem, Wayne’s presence played its part, too. He owed so much to Wayne Munson and his caring heart.

The rest of the conversation moved by in a blur. Some stranger’s voice told him about his part of the will and Wayne’s last requests. He listened just enough to know he needed to head into Hawkins to sort everything out.

Through his grief, Steve forgot how much he always dreaded going back to that town.

----

Eddie couldn’t help but smile as he pulled up to Wayne’s place. The sign for W. Munson Automotive Repairs was still the same as it was when Eddie was a kid. Though the letters were faded, Wayne’s presence lingered in them. All the memories of watching Wayne carefully repaint the letters every now and again brought tears to his eyes. Not for the first time, Eddie had to choke them back.

Parking his truck, Eddie hopped out and made his way to the front door of the shop. The old brick hiding Wayne’s spare key was still in the exact same place it always was. Eddie pushed it over with his foot before bending down to pick up the rusted key. It fit snugly into the lock, giving Eddie entry to his very favorite place on Earth.

Much like the sign, Wayne’s presence lingered in the shop. His desk was still covered with invoices and the old picture he always kept there of him and his wife, Jane. A half-eaten sandwich was even sitting there, like the place itself was waiting for Wayne to come back, too.

The sentimental old man still used the ‘world’s best dad’ mug Eddie gave him those early days of co-habitation. There were chips in the rim of it but the rest was still intact. It seemed fitting, the mug was a lot like Eddie himself.

With too many emotions swirling in his already heavy head, Eddie turned away from Wayne’s desk to take in the rest of the shop. A car was parked in the work area with its hood up; unable to help himself, Eddie wandered over to it. After taking a peek inside, Eddie decided the battery replacement was as good a distraction as any.

He took off the flannel he wore on the drive down, throwing it over Wayne’s old chair. Without anything else left to worry about, Eddie took a deep breath and dove in.

So stuck in his head, Eddie was surprised to hear the crunch of tires coming up the driveway. He let his wrist flex through another couple of turns on the wrench before forcing himself away. Grabbing the grease towel from the edge of the car, Eddie tried his hardest to clean his fingers off as eager feet led him over to the window.

His heart stopped at the sight of that all too familiar BMW coming to a halt next to Eddie’s truck. Long legs gave way to a trim waist Eddie still shamelessly thought about in the dark of his room. Aside from a little facial hair and a pair of trendy glasses, Steve Harrington looked the same. His beauty had done nothing but gotten deeper as he aged.

Damn him for that.

Shaking himself for being so weak, Eddie bucked up his courage and walked out of the garage.

The sight of Steve before him was even better face to face. Without thinking, Eddie said, “Steve?”

“Eddie?”

Those hazel eyes widened – Steve looked so very gorgeous and utterly shocked to see Eddie standing there. His face went through a few different expressions before it settled on one. Luckily, Steve treated him to that beaming smile instead of the frown he truly deserved.

“Hi, Steve,” Eddie replied dumbly, his own brain having a hard time keeping up. He was caught between marveling at the picture Steve made and falling to pieces because of nervousness and anxiety. There’d been so many dreams of this moment over the years that Eddie was overwhelmed and unable to think straight.

Steve, it seemed, was on the same page.

“Hi.”

The other man looked over his shoulder at Wayne’s place before continuing. “How did you find out? About Wayne, I mean?”

Steve’s question sobered Eddie’s excitement; at least, enough for him to get a grip and actually answer.

“I got a call from a lawyer. Something about being in Wayne’s will. I’m supposed to meet with him tomorrow.”

Those gorgeous eyes got a little wider as Steve said “10am?”

Eddie couldn’t stop the amused chuckle that bubbled up from the depths of his chest. He nodded, then repeated Steve’s words. “10am.”

“Yeah, me too.” Steve sounded surprised, like Wayne hadn’t been a foundational piece in both of their lives. Especially when things were at their lowest.

Not wanting to linger on the emotions Steve’s reaction caused, Eddie changed the subject. “It’s been a long time.”

The understatement of a century.

Steve agreed – the stricken and surprised look was finally replaced by recognition and affection. His cheeks softened and the boy Eddie remembered returned, like the distance in the past never happened. “Yeah, it has. 18 years.”

Without much thought, Eddie corrected him – “19. But, I mean – who’s counting?”

There was a long silence that followed Eddie’s unconscious confession. Steve nodded at him, looked away and then back again. It was maddening. Unbearable.

Breaking through the quiet, Eddie let another admission fly – what did he really have to lose? “You look amazing.”

It was the wrong move. The spell Steve was under broke; his control returned with a vengeance.

“I have to go. I’m late. I’m meeting my mom for lunch. At her house.”

It was a bold face lie (Steve hated his parents, that probably hadn’t changed), but there was nothing Eddie could do.

“Oh, alright. Yeah.” Eddie tucked his chin to his chest so Steve didn’t see the sweeping look of disappointment. What right did he have to carry around expectations, let alone feel entitled. Steve was running the first chance he got – that said enough.

“It was good to see you.” Steve chanced another look over at him as he spoke.

Eddie, weak and powerless to stop himself, returned the glance. Even tried not to look hurt. “Yeah, you too.” He waited a second, then added, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dumbly, Steve repeated, “tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the lawyer.”

“The lawyer,” Steve said, recognition actually sounding in his voice this time around. He nodded again, mumbled, “10am.” There was desperation on his face, like each syllable he uttered cost him something precious. “That’s right. See you tomorrow.”

Eddie watched helplessly as Steve fumbled to get himself in the car. He’d never seen someone back out so quickly. With longing lingering in his stare, Eddie stood there until the red of taillights were visible no more.

Read the entire story on AO3 (or check back in a couple of days for part two!)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fics #bobbie writes #we were left unfinished

[losttinwritings]

because i had you

[cc!Quackity x Fem!Reader] [chpt.5]

SUMMARY: In which Quackity is left reminiscing about his past relationship with his ex-girlfriend after their breakup.

WARNINGS: mainly angst, um crying and mentions of moving on? there's like no fluff here sorry guys

A-N: gonna be completely honest, i literally just wrote whatever popped into my head at the time of writing this. So sorry, if some parts don't make much sense or match the lyrics lol. Also I'm back to writing from my tablet again now :) as I now have a keyboard for it so it's easier than my phone lol

[masterlist]

[series masterlist]

Quackity sat cooped up in a corner booth of a diner he'd found when wandering through random streets with no real place in mind. He felt tired as he sat there, awaiting the hot drink the wait staff had yet to bring out to him. His thoughts were jumbled, a mess if you will. He couldn't focus on something for one moment without drawing it back to you somehow. God, he missed you a lot. He missed when he could rely on you to help him with ideas for his streams or just plain youtube videos for his channel, when he hadn't any clue what to do himself.

Maybe it was some pretty unfortunate timing for him, when he suddenly heard the sound of laughter of two people coming closer and closer. He knew he definitely couldn't mistake for anyone else. It was so familiar to him, that he could easily remember the last time, he'd heard it directed towards him. He knew he probably shouldn't look up from where he had rested his eyes upon the table before him. It was surely a completely bad idea, it would most likely hurt him more. But yet, it was like some part of him told him to and without warning his eyes lifted up and to the sudden familiar sound.

Fuck, he wished he didn't. As stood right at the very entrance, just about to enter the small, yet busy cafe he resided in, was you. But you were not alone, in fact he briefly glanced behind you to the quite attractive person behind you. Who were they? Was one of the many questions that flew through his thoughts just then. Surely, it wasn't a date right? Quackity wouldn't admit it but he did feel a little bit of hope that maybe you were just there as friends. Yet, as he examined you two further, that bit of hope died and he felt his heart sink a little in his chest. He watched as the person beside you, carefully grabbed your hand and pulled you inside to a table on the opposite side of the diner.

To be honest, Quackity had no clue why he still felt sad when he silently observed you on your date with another person, that wasn't him, might he add. The fight/breakup was a month or two ago, he knew that you were allowed to see other people now and go on dates with them. He knew he should probably move on now too, if you were so clearly doing so. Then again, he couldn't help the next things to flood into his thoughts. Did you even love him? Did you even regret storming out of that door that day? Hell, were you even heartbroken over the fact that you had lost what you had with him? All these sudden thoughts, he desperately wanted answers too, and yet he had simply had none.

The raven-haired boy only snapped back to reality when he heard the footsteps of someone approaching his table. He felt his eyes suddenly move from where they were previously locked onto you, and drift to the figure near him now. It was only the waitress, bringing him his hot beverage. He murmured a quick 'thank you' towards her, and watched her scurry off in a hurry to collect more orders. He grabbed the warm mug and brought it closer towards himself. Perhaps, he should be glad that the waitress arrived when she did. He didn't want to risk you feeling someone staring, and turning around to find him there looking in your direction. That would be embarrassing on his part, and he didn't want to come off as a total creep or stalker.

Alex wasn't sure if he could keep sitting there, a few booths down from where you and your date now sat. He couldn't help but frown at the sounds of laughter that spilled from your lips, making his heart carefully ache. What was stopping him from simply getting up from his seat? What was stopping him from going up to the counter and asking for his drink in a takeaway cup? Genuinely, he didn't even know himself. Clearly, he didn't think he was ready to be in the same proximity to you. If he left right now, he knew it would save him from a whole lot more heartbreak. But, as he sat there and slowly took small sips of the beverage that was currently situated between his fingers and heating up his palms. The sun's rays of light gently beaming in through the large window to the side of him, he couldn't help but allow his thoughts to continue to roam.

He couldn't compare to whoever that was sat opposite you, making you smile like that. Making you smile and laugh, just like how he used to do. Atleast, he fully believed and thought that he couldn't. Eventually, he had enough of carefully observing the couple from afar and slowly taking sips of his drink. He just wanted to leave, and so he did. He got up from where he was seated, discarding the now half-empty mug of what he had been drinking. He needed to get home anyways, he did plan on appearing on one of his friends' twitch streams later today. Carefully, adjusting the beanie that most oftenly sat upon his head of raven hair, he moved through the aisle of diner booths and towards the exit.

His actions suddenly having caught the attention, of you who had peeked up from your meal that had just arrived now. You felt a brief look of sadness flash across your face as you saw him there, about to leave the cafe. Yet, it was gone in an instant when you remembered who you were still with. Did you even really want to engage with Alex? You knew you did miss him, of course you did. Wouldn't talking to him though bring up old feelings and reopen those wounds from that night? probably, so you didn't risk it. You both would be on the road to healing from that relationship, so talking to him right now you doubted would change anything between you two. So you sat there, attempting to fight the urge to call his name and go after him, while he slowly exited the building and onto the street.

You're with somebody I can't be, yeah

#Spotify #series #angst #because i had you #x reader #fanfiction #mcyt #alex quackity #alex quackity x reader #quackity x reader #quackity #imagines #mcyt x reader

[pjsk-playcorner]

an.... sweet vbs summer child.... you can do this! don't let the schoolwork beat you!

anyways! it is i, sparkles anon! ...on pc! so i cannot do emojis! :rofl:

could we (why did i say we- whatever moving on) perhaps have a fluffy fic (or hcs!! whatever you like!!) with vbs taking care of regressed an? the details are up to you!! /lh /nf

(ps: if you'd like me to tone down my messages/be less chaotic or whatever please let me know!! i don't wanna make you uncomfy, and you won't hurt my feelings if you tell me! /gen /nf)

Oh don't worry about being too much!! I love enthusiastic people!! (as long as I get to know them well) and you seem like a very nice person so I really don't mind!!! Also it's kinda ironic cause I did have an idea if I ever made an part 2 of the other fic so here you go!! (apologize it's mostly Mizuki since I was trying to get this out!! Aha- of course if a part 3 is what you want I can do it! Just ask me ^^)

////////////////////////////////////////////

Regressor! An / Babysitter! Mizuki / CG! Kohane Azusawa, Akito Shinonome, Touya Aoyagi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afternoon, it's already afternoon. That's good An thinks sooner enough just a few hours more she can be able to head home and stay in her bed for the time being. It, really isn't helping all that much that she's feels so small and little right now but she can what she will make due.. Trying her hardest not to seem so small in the slightest trying not to mess up or jumble up on her words, it's tiring but no knows nor is caring about it so it's all well..

Mizuki can see how, unenergetic(?) An is. sure An isn't the most fond of school (and neither are they) but An seems to be struggling a bit every now and then, seeing how the starry haired girl keeps on correcting herself everytime she stumbles on them. Mizuki remembers a particular secret An told them..

So, what was this secret you have about? I'll be honest you really don't have to say anything if you aren't that comfortable yknow?

I know! Just that.. You told me something about you that's very deep I kinda, wanna do the same too. Like, in a way we share something?

I don't get what your saying but I suppose-

Sorry sorry! It's like. I trust you with this, like how you did with me-

Ohh I see, so back on track?

Right-! So.. The thing is, Do you know what Age regression is Mizuki?

Hm? Um.. A have a general bit of knowledge, why is that?

Aha, slightly a bit embarrassing. But Um,

....

....

OHHHHH I get it I get it! Don't worry your secret is safe with me alright? Just let Big sis Mizuki handle it!

Pft, you really don't have to do that but. Thanks I appreciate it..

Hey, it's what friends are for right?

Yeah-!

Mizuki remembers that conversation really vividly, the pinknette snaps out of their thoughts as soon as the bell has rung. Lunch break! Yes! Mizuki stood up from their seat and looks to see An who was already on her way to leave from the classroom, rushing over to their friend and tapping on her shoulder. An turns around to see Mizuki. Giving a small smile and wave, "Hey Mizuki" An says, Mizuki smiles as well greeting An back. "Heya An! How are you?" They asked. "I'm, doing fine!" She says they continue on with the conversation until they headed onto the rooftop as they both sat down together going to have their lunch.

"So, just asking a quick thing is that fine An?" Mizuki asks, they wanted to make sure if An was really okay with them asking about it so it's better to be safe than to be sorry. "Uh sure! M- I'm fine with it." "Alright alrighty then, do you feel small at the moment?" Uh, that sounds a bit too blunt- "Well cause, you seemed to be stumbling on your words a bit and how you seem alot less, energetic in a way?" An blinks for a bit looking down of the floor, she seems to relax a bit however her smile was quavering slightly..

"Sowwy, didn't. Mm.. Didn't wanna make it look like M was,," An says fiddling the hems of her blazer continuing to look down, Mizuki softens as An spoke before ruffling her hair slightly. "It's fine! Really, you just seemed a bit tired today? Anything in particular happened?" Mizuki asked, An nods slowly before just speaking on how yesterday's night wasn't the greatest. Mizuki continues to listen to An as she speaks out on how she felt also letting her lay on their shoulder to rest a bit. "Ah I see, well then. If you are that stressed about it you could've just ask for help you know? And even if I or anyone else was busy it would have been okay to ask right?" An nodded again, just staying quiet for the time being. Mizuki let's the silence take over for a bit, speaking again however a few minutes later. "Do you wanna skip classes today or mark yourself as excused?" An shook her head and spoke up. "Nuh uh.. Don't wanna, get in twouble.." Mizuki chuckles at that giving An some head pats. "It's fine really, I'll just say you weren't feeling like yourself and I'll help you get home. Maybe I can even call Otouto-kun, Touya and Kohane about it to stay with you after school? Well until then you can stay at my place if you want!"

An thinks for a slight moment, before slowly nodding. "Oki.." Mizuki took the yes and helped An up as they go and excuse the regressed singer for the day.

=======

Sooner enough the two arrived at Mizuki's house, An couldn't really change out of her uniform so she just has to roll with it. Mizuki let's An sit on the sofa as the mv creator goes to the kitchen and sees what they can make for the little, before settling with Mac and cheese for An. Going off to make it, An however since getting Mizuki's permission turns the TV on and sees on what she can watch before stumbling onto a cartoon channel not really switching it out and just enjoying the characters talk and play.

After a few minutes Mizuki brings the bowl of Mac and cheese to the living room and places it on the coffee table for An to eat later when it isn't hot, sitting beside the regressed singer and seeing what is she watching. "Whatcha watchin?" Mizuki asked looking at An and ruffling her hair again. An giggled at the action since it was comforting and silly before answering "ʼM found Doraemon!!" An says happily, her attention back to the screen. Mizuki smiles at how An seems to be more comfortable at the moment, however she did have to remind her to eat her Mac and cheese. Eh she can tell her later if that's ever fine, right now Mizuki herself goes and watches the anime with An.

It's after hours until VBS entered the house after the text they got from Mizuki, they went over as soon as they can. Only seeing now how Mizuki and An are asleep on the sofa with an empty bowl on the coffee table and a different cartoon playing. "I suppose Mizuki-san was able to take care of it while we were busy aha-" Kohane says, looking at the two. Touya nodded whilst Akito went up and lightly shook Mizuki awake. "GAH- IM UP-!" Akito, Kohane, and Touya all hushed Mizuki in unison. The pinknette covered their mouth looking over seeing how An was still sleeping peacefully, Mizuki removes their hands smiling slightly as they look at An.

"Ah, looks like the both of us caught some shut eye eariler ahah-" Mizuki rubs the back of their head before Touya speaking up. "It's quite alright, An seems to be doing well under your care." Akito nods in agreement speaking up as well. "Mhm, thanks for being with her while we were at school." Kohane goes up to An and gently shakes her, getting the regressed singer to wake up and yawn.

"Hello starlight, how was your sleep?" Kohane asked in a gentle voice, An rubs her eyes and speaks slightly. "Ish oki, slept oki" Kohane smiles patting her head gently "Do you wanna go home now starlight?" An nodded reaching out for Kohane as Kohane goes and helps her up, letting the little one cling onto her. "Again we can't thank you enough Mizuki-san..!" Kohane thanks, Akito and Touya also thanked Mizuki. "Say thank you and goodbye to Mizuki starlight." Touya says in a warm tone like a blanket wrapping you into a hug.

"Thank chu big sis Zuki,, also bye bye.." An waves a goodbye still clinging onto Kohane, causing Akito to laugh at it slightly. "Alright we'll be headin' out. Bye Mizuki." "Bye Otouto-kun!~" Akito groans at the nickname before he leaves first, Touya and Kohane laughing a bit before they wave a goodbye to Mizuki and leaving the house.

#project sekai agere #pjsk agere #Shirai's fics! #✨ anon #an shiraishi #shiraishi an #mizuki akiyama #akiyama mizuki #kohane azusawa #azusawa kohane #touya aoyagi #aoyagi touya #akito shinonome #shinonome akito