#(it's a tree bc he hung himself)

[fuckingwhateverdude]

@nosebleedclub / may #13

[jeonginsleftcheek]

With you, always

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader (implied fem)

genre: fluff, suggestive, pinch of angst

wc: 5.5k

synopsis: you ask your best friend to help you win over your crush.

warnings: college!au, fake dating, best friends to lovers trope, crying, a few kissing scenes and one make out scene

a/n: wanted to try my hand out at a fake dating scenario, hope you like this one🥹🫶🏻

(i also needed something cute and fluffy bcs i had the shittiest week😭)

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

masterlist

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but for Hyunjin today was the most important day of his life.

It had been more than a month since he started gathering the courage to finally confess to his best friend, you.

He was more than nervous, tossing and turning in his bed the night prior, imagining all the scenarios, every single possibility from you falling into his arms to you slapping him and walking away forever.

He couldn't stand the thought of the last option, hoping that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, maybe you'd still be his best friend cause he really would suck it up for you, just so he can stay by your side.

But Hyunjin was 99% sure you felt the same, and that the 1% was just his own doubts creating negative outcomes in his mind.

You've been best friends for almost five years now, meeting through your mutual friend Changbin who you lived close to and hung out with, inevitably becoming close to Hyunjin too.

Changbin moved away but still kept in touch, leaving Hyunjin and you to bond with each other; going as far as attending the same university.

You've been inseparable since then, there was rarely any moment you didn't spend together.

There was no way you spent so much time with him and didn't come to love him the way he loved you; that's what Hyunjin kept telling himself.

Anyways, you were always so good to him, it must mean something right?

Hyunjin's palms were clammy as he wiped them on his jeans for the nth time today, giving himself the ick for a moment.

He was on the edge, jittery as he kept shifting from foot to foot, waiting for you to arrive so you can go to your classes together.

He had it all planned.

After class he would ask you to meet up in your 'secret place', a bench under a tree near the campus where you two would sit and spend time together, and there he would gift you the painting he had carefully created for you, the beautiful everlasting bouquet of flowers that would never wither just like his love for you.

Then he would tell you how much you mean to him, how he has loved you this whole time... And he didn't know how you'd react, maybe your eyes would tear up, maybe you'd hug him instantly... But he knew it would end with a sweet kiss and Hyunjin asking you to be his.

He got lost in the scenarios he's been making up for weeks, not even noticing that you appeared before him.

"Earth to Hyunjin?" you wave your hand in front of his face and he snaps out of his thoughts, hoping he didn't say anything out loud and accidentally revealed his plan.

"Oh, sorry I'm still asleep." Hyunjin chuckles, his cheeks rosy.

"That's why I got you this." you give him a cup of coffee, holding another cup in your other hand.

"See now, this is why I hang out with you." Hyunjin nods, grabbing the cup from your hand.

Your fingers touch for a moment and he feels electricity run through his body.

"Glad to know you're just using me for coffee." you act annoyed even though you know he's just teasing you.

"And your notes. You're way better at taking them than I am." he says after taking a sip of his beverage, a smug smile spreading on his face.

"That's cause you daydream 24/7, you dork." you nudge him with your shoulder as you start making your way across the campus.

"I do not." Hyunjin pouts.

"Yes, you do. You were literally doing it just now when I came up to you." you poke his side and he jumps a little, letting out a squeak.

"I was just... nevermind. Listen-" Hyunjin starts, swallowing a big lump that's forming in his throat.

You look up at him, your eyes big and curious as you stare into his, making him melt into the ground.

"There's something I want to tell you. Today. I mean, later. Yeah. We can meet up at our spot?"

You notice his voice trembling a little, hoping it's not some bad news.

"Really? I have something I wanna tell you too." you smile wide and Hyunjin's heart starts pounding against his chest.

Did you think of confessing to him too?

"What?" he laughs in disbelief. "About what?"

"Well... Should I just say it? I'm impatient, you know that." your eyes sparkle as you keep looking at Hyunjin, your smile wide and cheeks dusted in pink.

"Yeah." Hyunjin's throat constricts. This is it.

"Okay. Well. Remember Minho? We have a few classes with him?"

Hyunjin frowns. What does Minho have to do with anything?

"Yeah, vaguely. What about him?" he gulps.

"I think I have a crush on him."

And just like that, Hyunjin's ears start ringing as he stands there, feeling like someone just dumped icy water all over him and also smacked him with the bucket for good measure.

"What?" he doesn't want to believe that you just said that.

"Minho, I have a crush on him. Like- it's been there for some time but it was just a little one, I didn't pay attention to it but last weekend I ran into him and we talked, and he was really sweet."

"Is that all that it took for you to develop a crush on him?" Hyunjin's scowl is evident, annoyance written all over his face.

"Hyunjin!" you were taken aback by his tone. "No. It's just- we had a brief conversation and I felt like we had so much in common. I thought you'd be happy for me, you always tease me that I'll die alone if I don't find someone."

Hyunjin can see the confusion and insecurities reflecting in your eyes and his face softens.

He can't be cruel to you, never.

"I- I am happy for you. I just... Need to process."

"Are you jealous?" you smirk. "You'll always be my best friend, Jinnie, you know I'll never replace you."

"Best friend, huh?" Hyunjin scoffs. "Great. I just remembered I gotta go do something." he turns around, muttering under his breath.

"What? Class is about to start, where are you going?" you look at him confusedly as Hyunjin stares at the floor, walking away from you.

"Hyunjin, watch out!" you try to warn him, but it's already too late, his head collides with one of the trees growing in front of the building, the force of it making him fall back down on his butt as he wails loudly, grabbing at his forehead, his coffee spilled by his side.

"This is what I get." he mumbles, his bottom lip trembling as his eyes water.

"You dumbass." you appear by his side in mere seconds. "Let me see."

Hyunjin puts his hands down as you inspect his forehead.

"I think it's gonna be okay." you say, leaning so close to him so he can feel your warmth and smell your shampoo.

"Since when is this tree here?" Hyunjin grunts.

"Since like 60 years ago." you giggle.

Before he can compute what's happening, you grab Hyunjin's face and lean in, pressing your lips on his forehead gently.

How could you do this and not love him?

His eyes water again.

"Oh, don't cry you drama queen. This is like the third time this week that you ran into something with that thick head of yours. By now, I think the tree took more damage than you." you joke, trying to lift the mood up.

Hyunjin chuckles a little, not being able to stay mad at you even though you were driving him crazy in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to class now." you help pull him up, throwing the spilled cup in the trash.

"Here, we can share my coffee." you give him your cup, and Hyunjin shakes his head.

"It's okay."

"Also, what were you going to tell me?" you beam at him and Hyunjin feels like someone has squeezed his heart and lungs.

"Nothing. It's not important." he forces a smile, finding it harder to breathe suddenly.

"Really? Sounded important to me."

"It's not. Forget about it." he says as you walk through the front door.

"Alright, if you say so."

The two of you sit in one of the back rows as always, your eyes immediately searching for Minho, who always sits up front.

It's one of the classes you share with him and you await eagerly to see him, hoping he'd look up and wave at you.

Hyunjin takes out his notebook and pen, trying to act normal even though he feels as if he's been shot right in the chest and his heart is now bleeding out slowly.

He hears you gasp quietly and looks up.

Minho just walked in, dressed in a sleek black shirt and some jeans, looking effortlessly perfect and Hyunjin can see you visibly perk up as you stare at the man with a smile.

You should be looking at Hyunjin like that.

No, Hyunjin shakes his head. He shouldn't be thinking like this, he should be happy for you, he should support you.

After all, that's what best friends do.

You're getting ready to wave, but Minho doesn't even spare a glance your way, his face unreadable as he sits down, talking to some guy that's sitting next to him.

You visibly deflate and Hyunjin feels bad, putting his hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

"I'm sure he'll say hello to you later." Hyunjin says and you nod at him with a sigh.

During the entire lecture, your eyes kept wandering over to Minho while Hyunjin kept his eyes on you, his heart breaking as he watched you falling for someone else right before his eyes.

Why the hell did he wait for so long to tell you how he feels?

Now, he's lost his chance.

Hyunjin slumps back in his seat and decides to actually start taking notes even though he knows he'll end up stealing yours like he always does.

For the last three days you've been gushing about Minho nonstop.

Minho did this, Minho did that, Minho said this, Minho said that. Minho, Minho, Minho.

Hyunjin was already sick of it and imagining that guy actually reciprocating your feelings and becoming your boyfriend was making Hyunjin's stomach churn.

Minho seemed to take some kind of interest in you, at least that's what you thought from the brief conversations you'd have with him in the halls while Hyunjin watched you interact with him, your eyes sparkly and cheeks rosy.

He wanted to smack his own forehead against the wall until it hurts enough so he can forget about the pain he feels on the inside.

But the more Hyunjin observed Minho, it seemed to him that the guy was just being polite to you, answering your questions with a small smile on his face, nodding here and there as you talked.

That was not the face of a man in love, at least that's what Hyunjin believed.

"Minho told me that this shirt really matches my eye color." you're almost jumping around Hyunjin and he rolls his eyes.

"It's ugly."

"Hyunjin!" you smack your best friend's arm and he winces, acting like you just broke his bones.

"What?" he looks at you, his brows furrowed.

"You're jealous, Hyun. Admit it." you smirk, poking his side.

"Am not. Let's just go to class."

"Did you know that Minho's a dancer?" you quip suddenly as the two of you sit down.

"So what? I dance too." Hyunjin answers, taking his notebook out and not sparing you a glance.

He can't bring himself to look at your face while you talk about your crush.

"I know you dance but I didn't know he does too. He told me I could come watch him practice some time." you smile and Hyunjin almost chokes on his breath.

"He w-what?"

"I'm gonna watch him dance." you smirk and Hyunjin shakes his head.

"Whatever. Enjoy."

"Come with me." you grab at his arm and he tries to swat you away.

"I don't want to."

"Come on, pleaseeeeee." you whine, pouting at your best friend as you lean your cheek on his shoulder.

Hyunjin melts when he looks down at you.

"Fine." he sighs.

"Yay!" you quickly kiss his cheek and Hyunjin dies on the inside a little. "You're the best, Jinnie."

"Yeah, yeah, I know I am." he smirks at you while shaking his head.

Hoping somewhere deep inside that this is just a phase.

-

The very same day, Minho has dance practice and you drag Hyunjin to the dance room to watch.

There are some other dancers there, and some people sitting and watching so the two of you sit down next to them.

Hyunjin takes out his phone and you frown at him.

"Aren't you gonna watch with me?" you ask.

"I don't really care about his dancing. But you go ahead and enjoy." he shrugs.

"Sure." you look at Hyunjin for a few more moments as he concentrates on scrolling, a little sigh escaping your lips.

You're a bit worried since Hyunjin has never acted like this before and you kept wracking your brain, trying to figure out what is going on with him.

The music starts soon and you look up, your eyes falling on Minho.

His dance moves are sharp and on time, executed so smoothly, you've never seen someone dance so perfectly before.

You stare in awe and Hyunjin looks up with an annoyed face, his eyes traveling between the two of you and how flabbergasted you look.

When Minho finishes dancing, you're ready for him to come up to you and talk but instead a guy skips towards him and starts talking with a big smile on his face, his arms flailing around in excitement.

Minho smiles wide, eyes all sparkly and cheeks all rosy, you've never seen him react like that.

"So, what did you think?" you ask Hyunjin, hoping Minho won't just ignore you.

"He's too stiff." Hyunjin mutters, still looking at his phone.

"He totally isn't." you squint your eyes at him before standing up.

Sadly for you, Minho doesn't spare you a glance, quickly leaving the room with the guy who joined him.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Hyunjin laughs in disbelief.

"Keep your voice down." you pinch his thigh.

"Ow!" he swats your hand away. "There is no way, y/n. I'm not gonna pretend to be your boyfriend."

"Please, Hyun! Who else will I ask? You want me to go to some stranger?!" you almost yell yourself and Hyunjin shushes you.

"What's in it for me?" Hyunjin crosses his arms and leans back.

"Mm, you're helping your lovely best friend?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

"This is crazy." he shakes his head.

"Is that a yes or no?" you beam at him.

"Fine. Fine, I'll be your fake boyfriend." Hyunjin feels like crying and laughing at the same time, the absurdity of his reality was really something.

"Yes! Thank you, Jinnie!" you throw your arms around him and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close, his heart fluttering in his chest.

"I owe you." you mutter into him.

"Damn right you do." he exhales, trying to calm his fast beating heart down.

For some reason, in your mind it made perfect sense.

Minho needed a nudge to make a move on you, and what better way to nudge him than making him jealous?

Hyunjin thought it was the dumbest idea he had ever heard but at this point, he was hoping that through your fake relationship you'd come to realize that he would be the perfect boyfriend for you, not some random guy you talked to a few times.

While he was trying to fall asleep in his bed that night, Hyunjin wondered just how far are you willing to take the lie.

-

The next morning, while Hyunjin waited for you to arrive like he always did, his heart was beating fast.

He was so nervous about the whole ordeal, not knowing how you'll approach him.

"Jinnie!" you waved slightly with a cup of coffee as soon as you spotted him.

He waved back a bit reluctantly as you beamed at him.

"Morning. Coffee for my handsome boyfriend." you smirked as you gave him his cup.

What the actual fuck?

His legs trembled for a moment and Hyunjin felt like the ground was crumbling underneath his feet and pretty soon he'll be joining it.

"Don't say it like that." he freaked out on the inside, hoping he wasn't blushing too hard.

"What? We need to get into character." you smiled, hooking your arm with his and practically dragging him towards the campus.

Oh, you are so going to be the end of him.

"Why can't we just act like we normally do?" Hyunjin whined as you approached the building.

"Because it won't be believeable. We have to act sweet like... like imagine if we were actually dating what would you do?"

You must be crazy, Hyunjin thinks as his lips fall open in shock.

"I'd probably kiss you." he says, half joking and knowing you'd never say yes to something so ludicrous.

"Okay, let's do it." you stand close to him, your hand slipping down to his as you interlace your fingers.

"What?!" Hyunjin yells and you squeeze his hand as a few people look your way.

"Hyunjin. Make it believeable. Come on, kiss me." you nod quickly.

Hyunjin's lips open and close a few times as he searches your face.

"In front of everyone? Shouldn't our first kiss be more intimate?" Hyunjin swallows and that's when your cheeks become rosy.

"They don't know it's our first kiss. Plus it's just pretend so let's do it." you don't know how much your words hurt him but Hyunjin is a fool for you so he nods.

"Okay." he lets go of your hand only to cup your cheek, and for some reason your heartbeat picks up speed.

You chalk it up to not kissing anyone for so long.

It's definitely not because of Hyunjin, right?

His eyes soften as he leans in and you meet him halfway, hearing his breath hitch before your lips finally make contact.

Hyunjin doesn't care why you're kissing him, because in this moment nothing really exists except you and him, the world around you melting away.

His lips are soft against yours, he tastes of coffee and the chocolate croissant he had for breakfast and just so Hyunjin.

It's exactly what you imagined he'd taste like.

Not that you ever thought about kissing your best friend.

You lean back before thoughts consume you and before the kiss can escalate.

Hyunjin feels like you just took his breath away.

"See? It went good." you say, but your voice trembles and your face is red.

"I think that was better than good." Hyunjin pouts but before you can retaliate someone calls out to you.

The two of you turn towards the voice and see Chan, one of your acquaintances from class as he approaches you with a smirk.

"Did you two finally get together?" he asks and Hyunjin coughs as your eyes widen.

"I- yes we did." you answer quickly as Hyunjin tranforms into a frozen tomato next to you.

"Gosh, I'm so happy for you guys. I always knew you were into each other, it was so obvious. Good luck!" Chan throws finger guns your way before running off to class.

His words echo in your mind. You were obvious? What the heck does that mean?

"Let's go to class." you grip Hyunjin's hand and he nods, still stunned by the kiss you shared and what Chan had said.

You sit in your usual spot in the back, Minho arriving a few minutes later and you visibly perk up.

"Quick, put your arm around me!" you startle Hyunjin who was doodling in his notebook but he does exactly what you asked.

His arm wraps around your shoulder and he brings you closer to his body just as Minho looks up your way.

You wave at him and Minho waves back with a smile, his eyes moving to Hyunjin shortly before he turns around and sits down.

"Did you see that? Do you think he looked jealous?" you whisper to your best friend.

"Maybe." Hyunjin shrugs, retracting his arm.

"Maybe?" you whine. "I need a yes not a maybe."

"Give it some time, y/n." Hyunjin is back to doodling.

How is he gonna endure this torture?

As it always was on the weekends, Hyunjin came to your place to hang out.

Usually your roommate was staying with her boyfriend every weekend so you had the apartment all to yourself.

After a good old gossip session and a movie marathon with snacks, Hyunjin and you were still snuggled up in your bed.

You were barely awake now, trying to focus on the third movie in a row while Hyunjin was keeping his eyes only on you.

A small smile danced on his lips as he observed your pouty face, your eyes fighting to stay open as you blinked tiredly, your face illuminated only by the tv.

He scooted closer to you, putting his arm around you and that jolted you from your half asleep state.

"What are you doing?" you asked and he chuckled, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"Getting my cuddles." Hyunjin smirks.

"Who gave you cuddle privileges?" you smirk back, deciding to tease him a little.

"I'm your best friend, of course I get cuddle privileges. Plus, consider it your payment for making me fake-date you." Hyunjin nuzzles into you, making you shiver a little.

"So it's that horrible to date me, hm?" you giggle, some kind of tension washing over you.

"Oh yeah, the absolute worst." Hyunjin jokes and you smack his arm immediately.

"Hey!" you protest and he laughs.

It's quiet for some time, and you close your eyes, your body is suddenly aware of everything.

You're aware of Hyunjin's warmth, his familiar and comforting scent, the way his breath hits your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your cheek, the heaviness of his arm and leg thrown over you and your heart starts beating faster.

You wonder why since this is not the first time Hyunjin and you cuddled, you started this tradition a year ago, it became normal to cuddle every weekend he stayed over.

You suddenly also wondered if that was normal; to cuddle your guy best friend.

You also thought about the kiss the two of you shared, what mostly replayed in your mind wasn't the actual kiss, it was the way Hyunjin looked at you when you parted.

His eyes seemed full of love and affection, he seemed soft and putty in that moment like he really wanted to kiss you, like it meant so much to him.

"Hyunjin?"

"Hm?"

"Can we practice kissing?" your brain just always comes up with great ideas.

Hyunjin freezes, his body stiff against yours.

"What?" he looks up at you with a nervous chuckle.

"So that it's more believeable in public."

He smirks.

"Are you sure it's not because you liked kissing me?" Hyunjin jokes, though on the inside he hopes you'll say yes.

"Shut up!" you whine. "This is just pretend, okay?"

"Sure, if you say so." he stares at you with a grin and you don't know if you would rather slap him or kiss him.

"Go on then." you whisper.

Hyunjin chuckles at your impatience, throwing his head back for a moment as his laughter jostles you.

When he looks back at you, something shifts in his eyes and you swallow the lump in your throat.

He slowly leans in and why are you nervous suddenly?

Hyunjin's lips press against yours and this time you melt as he hovers above you, kissing you gently, his fingers caressing your cheek and tracing your skin.

Your hand comes up to hold the back of his neck and play with his hair which makes Hyunjin press against your lips harder, kissing you with more passion than before.

Your mind is dizzy suddenly, this is nothing like the innocent kiss you shared in public, and something starts stirring up inside you as you drown out the noise of the movie, focusing only on your best friend.

Oh my god, you're making out with your best friend!

That thought crosses your mind just when Hyunjin's big hand ends up on your waist, squeezing a little as his tongue swipes your lip and you hear it in his heavy breathing, how worked up he's getting.

Something inside you ignites when you part your lips, letting him push his tongue inside as he starts gently playing with yours.

You almost quit thinking, your brain feeling foggy as your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull just a little.

It's enough to make Hyunjin groan into you and that snaps you back into reality.

You gasp, suddenly backing away as Hyunjin slowly blinks his eyes open, his face filled with lust and confusion of the sudden stop, his plump lips even more swollen and red after kissing you.

You can't believe he looks so attractive.

"I think we should stop now." you gulp.

"Was it too much?" Hyunjin's voice is raspy and something throbs inside you.

"Yeah."

"You wanted to practice." he adds, his eyes glued to your lips.

You didn't know what to say. Suddenly, you felt so confused about your feelings.

It's not like you never imagined kissing your best friend or being in a relationship with him but it always seemed to you like you would never be able to cross that barrier.

Being Hyunjin's best friend was familiar, comfortable, you didn't want to spoil that.

"What's wrong?" Hyunjin asks, seeing the cogs turning in your head.

"Hyunjin, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Pretending to be my boyfriend." you sit up so he follows.

"Because you asked me to? I wanted to help you." Hyunjin lies through his teeth and you can read it now. It's like everything became clear to you.

"Would you really be happy if I got together with Minho?"

Hyunjin's stomach churns and anything good he felt just moments ago when he was kissing you disappears and is replaced by a feeling of nausea.

He averts his eyes from you, nervously biting on his lip.

"Hyunjin?"

"No. No, I wouldn't be happy." he admits quietly, his eyes trained on his lap, unable to look at you.

"Why?" you ask.

"Why? Why? Is it not obvious, y/n?" he says and your eyes meet.

"I love you, that's why." Hyunjin feels the weight of his hidden feelings finally lifting from his heart.

Your lips tremble as you stare at him in shock.

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

You suddenly get up, the reality of the situation dawning on you.

"You've loved me this whole time? And I never realized? And I asked you to fake date me to make another guy jealous and you- you went with it." your eyes well up with tears. "Oh my god, I am so stupid and insensitive!"

Hyunjin gets up too, quickly wanting to comfort you.

"No, y/n it's okay, I wanted to help you! I mean, if you're happy, I'm happy too even if it's not with me." you can hear the pain in his voice when he says that and your chest hurts.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"It's okay if you don't love me like I love you, I can't force you to feel the same." Hyunjin shakes his head.

"It's not like that... It's just; I need to process all of this." you back away from him as he looks at you, sadness in his eyes.

You can't look at him in that moment.

"Do you want me to leave?" his voice is quiet and small when he asks that.

"Yeah, I need to be alone."

Hyunjin doesn't say anything at first, only grabs his things as you stare at the wall, your brain on overdrive.

"Call me when you're ready to talk." he says and you nod, watching his back as he leaves your room.

As soon as you hear the apartment door close, you break into tears.

How could you've been so blind? Hyunjin was always right next to you, he was your person, your comfort, your best friend.

He did everything to make you happy, even indulging you in dumb requests like this one and now that he told you how he feels, everything started flooding in.

The way he'd hold you, the way he looked at you, the way he blushed when you touched his hand, how he seemed annoyed when you told him about Minho.

You were beating yourself up for being so stupid and hurting him when deep inside you always knew you loved him too.

But now, you were afraid that you'd also hurt Minho if he liked you.

So you decided to test that.

-

The next morning, Hyunjin was already awake when his alarm rang, a sleepless night behind him filled with tears and scenarios of you not being a part of his life anymore.

He screwed up, confessing like that, in the heat of the moment.

He can't forget your face, how shocked and sad you looked and how you didn't even wanna look at his face.

Hyunjin still waits for you at your meeting spot, hoping you'll arrive with a smile and a cup of coffee like you always do.

But as minutes pass, with a heavy heart, Hyunjin realizes you're not coming so he reluctantly makes his way to class alone.

His heart freezes when he walks into the building and sees you talking to Minho.

Unable to look at that, he quickly walks into class, sitting at his usual spot.

This is a disaster, he thinks.

If he just kept his mouth shut, you'd be here sitting next to him now, joking around and laughing like you always do.

If he'd kept it all in, maybe he'd have just a glimpse of how it would feel to be yours.

Maybe you'd have that sleepover you always do, when you fall asleep in his arms and Hyunjin can pretend you're his.

But you never come into class, even after Minho did, sitting up front at his usual spot, smiling at the boy next to him.

Hyunjin frowns and stands up, quickly making his way out before the class started as he searches for you.

He finds you sitting on one of the benches outside, looking exhausted and sad.

He wants to run to you but instead he decides to approach you slowly.

"Y/n?" he leans down to look at you and you scoff.

"Minho has a boyfriend."

"What?" Hyunjin asks.

"Minho. He's gay. Or whatever. He's dating Jisung. And I'm just so stupid." you frown as Hyunjin takes in the information.

You can hear the laughter bubbling up inside him.

"Go ahead, laugh at my embarrassment, I know you want to." you look at him and he does just that.

Hyunjin starts laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation and as you see his cute face becoming red from the laughter, you can't stay serious.

Breaking into giggles yourself, the two of you probably end up looking like a pair of maniacs as you keep laughing.

"You were really barking up the wrong tree." he sits next to you and you smack his arm, making him whine.

"Stop it, at least let some time pass before you start making jokes about this." you pout and he chuckles at you, finding you so endearing at that moment.

Without thinking, Hyunjin tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and you feel your face warm up.

"I'm sorry for dumping all my feelings on you. I didn't wanna make anything awkward and that is not the way I wanted to confess. Actually... I wanted to confess to you that day when you told me about Minho." Hyunjin says.

"Oh my god! When you asked me to meet up? I am double stupid." you groan, smacking your forehead with your palm.

"It's fine. We can be friends, I'll just try to-"

"Hyunjin." you stop him.

"Hm?"

"I love you too. And I'm sorry for not realizing that before and hurting you."

"Oh. Oh!" Hyunjin's eyes are wide. "You feel the same?"

You chuckle at his surprised expression, needing him close so you wrap your arms around his waist, scooting closer to him, your face buried in his chest.

Hyunjin feels relief wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, his hand caressing your head.

"Does this mean you want to be mine?" he asks breathlessly.

"Oh, I always was." you look up at him with a smile and he giggles, his heart beating fast.

"I'm gonna kiss you now." he leans in.

"Please do." you chuckle and he cradles your head in his hand as his lips press gently into yours.

This kiss feels even more special, the confession between you melting through your lips as you taste each other.

"Wanna ditch classes and get some coffee?" you ask when you part.

"With you, always."

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun

[mirclealignr]

idk how i went so long without noticing you write for awae 😭 could i request a 🍋‍🟩 (or a blurb if you feel - whichever is fine!) with gilbert where he just gives fem!reader little gifts all the time? maybe they’re dating or he just has feelings for her & that’s how he expresses it or something bc i think it would be adorable :(

patience | gilbert blythe

gilbert blythe x fem!reader.

help this is the first time i’ve written gilbert. that's probably why though because no one ever requests it so I've never written for awae lol also it's 700 words and i hope i like it x

gilbert blythe was rather a quiet lover. though full of confidence and not afraid to go after what he wanted, his confidence was calm, collected and reserved. he wasn’t boisterous nor obnoxious. he was still.

gilbert had always been told that opposites attract; but now that he had found y/n, he was firm in his belief that this was not always the case. he believed himself and y/n much alike. she was the ocean on a summer morning when there was nothing but a light breeze, she was the whisper between the trees that reminded you there was always something more.

a few months ago y/n noticed a small book on her porch. it was empty, but for an inscription on the inside reading ‘for all of your thoughts.’

gilbert had always listened to her.

and again, a few weeks ago, gilbert and y/n had taken a walk past their old school. there were many memories trapped within those walls, some of which they hoped would remain there, and others they wished could stay forever. in those days, gilbert was perhaps less understanding, more naïve than he cared to admit, even now.

gilbert had decided to stay in avonlea after his adventures at sea. to stay with bash and his new wife, mary. this is something of which y/n admired. his proud strength and selflessness. the strong bonds of which he nurtured.

and after their reflective walk together, y/n found something tucked away in her bag. it was shakespeare’s sonnets.

gilbert knew how much she adored his sonnets.

in between these gifts were small notes, pretty stones, flowers, dried petals and and baked goods. mary had been teaching gilbert to cook and bake, at his request, as she had informed y/n.

gilbert simply knew how to read y/n, how to treat her and how to please her. to him, y/n was a book in which only he could understand the message. and more recently, he felt himself ready to relay to her this understanding, which only fostered the desire he had for her since they were merely children.

and now, gilbert smiled, beamed even, as he handed y/n a gift wrapped in paper with a string bow keeping it all fixed together.

“you knew it was me, did you not?” asked gilbert as y/n took the object, referring to the gifts y/n had been "mysteriously" receiving over the past months.

“of course i knew.”

y/n unwound the string with care, pulling the paper folds back delicately so as not to break or rip anything that could be inside. and what a treasure lay within.

y/n gasped. “gilbert! you should not have spent this sort of money on me.”

“any money i could have spent on you would have been worth it. but this didn’t cost me a dime,” laughed gilbert. “i made it myself.”

y/n looked down again at the beloved gift. it looked expensive, it looked expertly designed, in her eyes. in her hand she held sea shells that hung from a small wooden beam, shimmering down three lengths of string. in the light breeze, the shells tickled against one another creating a soft, vibrant sound. it was familiar somehow, though she’d never heard shells make that sort of noise before.

“you made this?” asked y/n in disbelief. disbelief at a talent she had not known gilbert to possess and disbelief that he should take the time to make her something so beautiful, so ethereal.

“i had help on my first two or three, but that one i did all by myself,” hummed gilbert proudly.

“it’s marvellous, i can’t believe you would do this for me,” y/n laughed in astonishment, for she did not know how else to show her appreciation.

“y/n, i would take the time to do anything for you. i have always loved you, y/n. you know that, do you not?”

y/n shook her head. she had known, of course she had. but she waited. after his father passed away and the deep urge he felt to leave his home in order to find his way through, y/n waited for gilbert to come back to her. she waited until he was ready. and now here he was, spilling over the edges as he finally told her what she had wanted to hear for so long.

“yes. i love you, gilbert.”

[xoxo-sarah]

Do you think you could do a darylxreader where he takes it upon himself to teach her bushcraft skills bc her fire making skills are absolute trash despite her eagerness to prove they aren't. -❌️⭕️❌️⭕️

Patience

↝a/n: rushed but I hope you still like it! 🩷 Thanks for requesting.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 11.9.24

You tried ignoring the eye on you, but that didn't do much to help. If anything, it frustrated you more. The whole day was already too much. When you had agreed to go with Daryl, everything was fine. You were in a decent mood.

Then, a buck showed up. It was beautiful. The horns stood strong, the south twitching. It was looking around, glassy eyes shining. After admiring it, you reached back, right into the quiver on your back. Your fingers fumbled, and the arrow fell onto the crunchy leaves below. The buck was quick to run in the opposite direction.

As if on cue, your stomach growled. You threw your head back in frustration.

Daryl watched, brows furrowed. “I saw a squirrel over there.” He pointed to the left of where the buck had been standing. You stomped your way over, not saying anything to him.

Daryl carried the squirrels over his shoulder, thoughts running through his mind, thanks to the silence. You hadn't said a word since you two had left. He could see the gears turning in your own head.

“Stop right here. It's gettin' dark.” He hung the squirrels up on a nearby branch, sliding his bag off his shoulder. Shrugging the thin jacket off, he laid it on the ground, offering a little more comfort than the twigs and leaves of the wood floor.

Sitting down on the edge of the fabric, you shrugged your own bag off.

Scrounging up some leaves and twigs, you put it in a circular shape. Next, your hands were working quick to make a flame. Maybe too quick.

The frustration was growing on your brow. Again, Daryl silently watched.

Grumbling, you threw the sticks a few feet away.

You huffed, the twigs refusing to catch fire despite your best efforts. The frustration was boiling over.

Daryl watched for a moment before kneeling beside you. “Here, you're goin' too fast.”

You scoffed, “No I'm not.” He ignored you.

He took the flint and steel from your hands, demonstrating the proper technique with practiced ease.

You watched closely, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping in. “I know how to do it,” you muttered, though your tone lacked conviction.

Daryl smirked slightly, “Ain't about knowin'. It's about patience.” He handed the tools back to you. “Now, try again. Slow this time.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed his instructions, striking the flint with more control. This time, a small flame flickered to life, and your eyes widened with triumph.

“See? Told ya,” Daryl said, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smiled for the first time that day, the warmth of the fire matching the warmth spreading in your chest. “Thanks.”

He nodded, settling back against a tree. “No problem. We'll make a survivalist outta you yet.”

Your mood changed for the better. The frustration from before wasn't warranted. Truthfully, you couldn't remember why you were mad to begin with. Usually going into the woods with Daryl was relaxing. Today just wasn't one of those days, at least, not at the beginning. Now, you were willing to talk, even ask questions about survival tips and tricks.

“Do you ever get frustrated out here?”

Daryl looked at you, considering the question. “Yeah, sometimes. But that's part of it. Ain't always easy, but it's worth it.”

You nodded, taking in his words. “I guess I just need to be more patient.”

He chuckled softly. “Patience ain't somethin' you just have. It's somethin' you learn. And you're gettin' there.”

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. “Thanks, Daryl. For everything.”

“Anytime,” he replied, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Now, let's get these squirrels cookin'.”

You and Daryl made quick work of skinning the squirrels, bellies grumbling with hunger.

You felt something fall in your left hand. Stopping your movements, you looked up.

Another water droplet fell on your face, sliding down the side of your nose. Soon, more droplet fell between the tree leaves, sizzling on the fire. The frustration was quick to come back, “What the fu-”

Daryl glanced up at the sky, then back at you. “Looks like it's gonna pour.”

You sighed, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “Great, just what we need.”

He stood up, grabbing a tarp from his pack. “We gotta move fast. Help me set this up.”

Together, you worked quickly to rig up a makeshift shelter, the rain starting to fall more steadily. The fire sizzled and spat as the droplets hit it, but you managed to cover it just in time.

“Guess we won't be cooking those squirrels tonight,” you muttered, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Daryl shook his head. “We'll find a way. Always do.”

You couldn't help but admire his calm in the face of yet another challenge. “Doesn't any of this get to you?”

He shrugged, adjusting the tarp. “Been through worse. You learn to roll with it.”

As the rain continued to fall, you settled under the tarp, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the situation. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to understand what Daryl meant about patience and rolling with the punches.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[lyrakanefanatic]

i feel like lyra’s relationship with her father (how she feels about him i mean bc there was no relationship ☠️☠️) is going to kind of have the same progression throughout the trilogy as darrows relationship with eo through out the red rising series

first book in the red rising series and how darrow deals with his feelings toward eo: his entire decision to infiltrate the golds and reconstruct the society was around eos death. (obv lyra isnt doing this but hold on!!) he loved her so much that he avenged her. in his mind, eo was this innocent martyr that the golds killed, and therefore he needed to avenge her. he falls in love with mustang but cannot justify the relationship to himself because he knows in the end he will be forced to hate her, as shes a gold. (btw just as an explanation sort of thing, the red rising trilogy is basically a dystopian book where the world is arranged by a colour coded hierarchy: gold is the highest, the dictators of everything, and red is the lowest, practically slaves. (there are other colours but they’re in between) darrow was a red, but after eos death (his wife) he had surgery to turn into a gold, and tried to infiltrate them in hopes of bringing down the entire corrupt society for eos dream. eo was hung because she sung a rebellious song (kind of like the hanging tree) to rebel against the golds and their harsh society. all caught up now?)

first book in the grandest game series and how lyra feels towards tomas: lyra tells herself that she didnt participate in the grandest game just to find out about her father, but as the book progresses, winning becomes a second priority to finding out about what exactly the hawthornes did to him. she doesnt exactly love her father and knows hes not entirely innocent as he was absent in her life, but she sees the hawthornes as the sole reason he was the way he was, and blames them for his death. her feelings towards tomas are complex and hard to explain, but because she was with him when he died and was the only one who heard his last words (him blaming the hawthornes), she feels inclined to avenge him and find out what happened to him, as shes his only hope and his daughter. she falls in love with grayson HAWTHORNE, and cannot justify her feelings to herself as she knows that she would be going against the one thing her father told her, and she knows she is supposed to hate him for his familys’ potential actions.

U SEE THE SIMILARITIES????

now heres darrows feelings towards eo in the second book (golden son):

darrow finds out that eo was secretly pregnant when she sacrificed her life to become a martyr, and darrow began to hate her for her actions. he cannot understand why she would go to that extent for her “dream” (or beliefs, which was to be free without the golds ruling over everybody), and blames her for never being satisfied with what she had, or what she could have. (a family). suddenly, the version of eo in his head switches, and all he can think is that eo was at fault for all of it: for darrow having to leave his life, his family to go fight a broken society. still, he understands her vision. what he cant understand is why it had to be a higher priority then him and his soon to be child. he still loves mustang, and for once doesn’t feel wrong about it. but, they have a falling out (thats one way to put it LMAO) and all darrow can think is that that was what was going to happen all along, because he was a red and she was a gold.

and then theres darrows’ feelings towards eo in the third book (morning star): he’s getting older now, and as he falls for mustang more and more and matures more, he realizes that eo was just a girl at the bottom of a hierarchy. she wanted to live for more, and although darrow cannot excuse her actions, he knows that her dream was real. he is at peace with the fact that eo is dead, and despite the fact that he will always defend her dream, he knows that shes a part of his past that he has to let go.

i think that lyra will go through that same cycle too, from dedication to avenging her father and wanting to know what alice did to him in the first book, to being angry with him (for reasons that idk bc the book isnt out yet) in the second book, to finally accepting his death and knowing that remembrance didnt have to go hand in hand with vengeance.

i dont know how the books will turn out, but it’d be cool if lyra followed through the same grieving steps as darrow did. also, if you havent yet, READ THE RED RISING TRILOGY!! its raw and beautiful and hands down the best book to come out of a dysptopian/science fiction genre (YES I SAID IT!!)

[g0dwat3rwritings]

i rewrote this ask like three times already trying to word it perfectly lmao. fem!yuu x octavinelle (separately). the pair attends NRC’s annual winter ball together as friends, though they’re both unaware of their mutual crushes on each other. at the end of the ball azul/floyd/jade confess their feelings!! also if possible could yuu’s dress be based on either ariel’s pink one or cinderellas original one (the silvery one) if any part of this was unclear pls feel free to message me and i’ll clear it up! my brains literally melting rn bc i just finished this horrible essay for history and tbh atp im just word vomiting everything out 😭😭

This is my second time writing this, I lost all of my progress the first time 😭

I had so much fun with the second version of Jade's part 💀

@nisobird 🚨🚨azul🚨🚨

Warnings ;; none

Relationship ;; Platonic, turned Romantic

Type ;; Short Story/One-Shot

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto ;; Octavinelle Housewarden ;; Second Year

You were late, and Azul was panicking. Why were you late? Did you just not want to see him? Were you just blowing him off? Azul as terrified of you not coming, not wanting to see him.

Upon seeing the doors open, revealing you, in a dress similar to that of the Sea Princesses, Azul's jaw dropped. He straightened his back upon seeing you come his way.

He gave a small laugh, "well.. you look.. wonderful." You couldn't help the small laugh that came from you, "Thank you. You can blame Vil, he wouldn't let me come in a normal outfit." You laughed.

Azul gave a laugh in return, holding his hand out toward you upon hearing a slow song start overhead. "May I.. have this dance?" He asked, obviously nervous for your response.

You gave a smile and took his hand, "You may." Azul smiled and led you to the dance floor, one hand gliding toward your hip, and the other taking your own hand.

As you danced, he cleared his throat. "If I may, I have something to tell you." You nodded, motioning for him to continue. He gave a small, nervous chuckle. "I think I... No, I know that I love you." He said quickly, before giving a sigh. "That.. wasn't as bad as I'd suspected." He said with a nervous laugh, awaiting your response.

With a small laugh and shake of your head, you responded. "I love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech ;; Octavinelle Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

You hung out with the tweel, not exactly fond of the dance floor, especially while wearing heels and a puffy, long dress. "Hey, Jade. Are you good at dancing?"

Jade gave a chuckle, "Why, I'd say I'm all right, but I wouldn't say I'm the best." He admitted, "Although, Floyd is a much better dancer than myself." Jade gave one of his normal, light chuckles.

"Despite how good my other half is at dancing, he finds it.. boring and uninteresting." Jade hummed, taking a sip from the punch he held in his hand.

You gave a laugh, "yeah, that sounds like Floyd." Jade simply nodded in response. "Say, may I talk to you after the ball is through? I have something to tell you." He told you, finishing off his punch.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you nodded nonetheless. After some more conversation with the eel, the ball was over and Jade guided you outside to somewhere quiet and concluded.

Jade turned to you, "I must admit to you that you are quite entertaining. Assuming you know my brother and I as well as you do, you know that we are very fond of those who are entertaining."

You listened, giving a nod toward the end. "Which is where I'd like to tell you that I-" A shout was heard from a tree, looking over, a fallen Floyd laid on his back at the bottom of the tree. "Oh, just tell 'em, stupid."

Jade and yourself couldn't help but laugh, "tell me what?" You asked. "I love you." He said simply, kissing your forehead lightly.

Floyd Leech ;; Octavinelle ;; Second Year

Floyd had even shocked himself upon asking you to this ball, he had no intent on even coming in the first place. But the idea of seeing you in a dress, all completely dressed up, had him in a chokehold.

"Woah. You look nice." Floyd blinked, and you laughed in response. "Thank you, Floyd." He nodded and held a cup of punch toward you, and you took it. You thanked him once more before taking a sip on it.

"Hey, Shrimpy." Floyd said, getting your attention. "Yeah? What's up?" You asked. "What do you say we get out of here?" You blinked, "Floyd, we both just got here." You said with a laugh. "I know, but if we stay any longer then Crabby or Little Mackerel will come up and steal you. So." He said, making a popping sound with his lips as he waited for your response.

You shook your head with a laugh and nodded, "alright, but where do you want to go?" Floyd shrugged, "I don't care." You laughed, before taking his hand and simply taking him back to Ramshackle.

His eyes were glued to his hand even after you'd gotten to Ramshackle. You snorted, "Floyd." You said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Huh?"

"what's up with you?" You laughed, and Floyd shrugged in response, simply resting his chin on your head. He spoke up after minutes of standing like that. "Hey, Shrimpy?" He said, "yeah?"

"Love you." He said simply, kissing the top of your head before reverting back to resting his chin on top of your head.

[brotherwtf]

gimme a fantasy clegan au where John is a telepathic interrogator and Gale is an outlaw that Johns supposed to break

hey squad actually can't stop thinking about this gif (it may or may not have inspired the entire au)

Gale had been captured by hunters and brought in for interrogation (or torture depending on how you look at it) and John was assigned to the case

John is a telepath, has been since he was young, and only gets assigned the especially difficult cases, Gale being one of them

Usually, he uses his telepathy to get into the minds of the prisoners, their thoughts ALWAYS give them away, no matter what they say with their mouths

He tries not to let the fact that Gale is stunning, even while he's strung and bloody, distract him from doing his actual job

John knows that elves like Gale are supposed to be desired, beautiful, and Gale seems to know it as well

He smirks and refuses to talk, and John is shocked by how blank Gale's mind is, he can't seem to read any of his thoughts

The only thoughts that Gale lets John see are lewd flashes of them together, John ravaging Gale on the floor of his cell, and John has to leave the cell with a raging hard on

John knows that Gales actions are to protect himself and not actual desires he feels, but John can't help but get lost in the ocean of Gales eyes

He also sees a deep, carnal fear in them, the look of an animal that's been trapped, and he decides he's going to help Gale get out of here

John makes it seem like it's Gale's idea, getting in his head and planting the idea in there. If he can make it seem as though Gale had come up with the idea, it'll be easier to convince him to allow Johns help

Gale starts thinking about ways of escaping, little does he know that John is carefully supplying them so that he can think of a feasible way to actually get Gale out

But Gale's giving up, the torture has left him beaten, bloody, and tired, and his mind is no longer accepting John's thoughts

He confesses that he's gonna give up and let them kill him; it's not worth the fuss and his body slowly dying

John kisses him then and Gale feels frail and weak beneath him, it makes anger surge through John's body

He's a well respected telepathic investigator, if he gets caught trying to aide a prisoner in escape, he will be hung

Gale's too weak to run so John practically drags him through the prison, mind on alert for any thoughts he can hear from guards that signal that they know they're escaping

Gale, pain riddled and delirious, looks up at John at some point and says something stupid like "Damn, an angel must be saving me," and it gives John the extra bit of strength to drag Gale's body out of the prison

They don't get caught, but they're not out of the woods yet, Gale's still injured and losing strength fast, John steals a horse and drapes Gale over his lap and bolts out of there

Once outside of the danger of the prison, John dumps Gale beneath and tree and nurses him back to health

Insert sensual wound dressing here, Gale musters up the strength to kiss John again and John has to stop Gale from hurting himself further

Something something they run away together, now both outlaws on the run, but they don't really care bcs they have each other (weeps)

this was very cathartic to write God I love fantasy and torture

lmk some of y'all's hcs for this! I don't really know how to end this but I am thinking it might be angsty 😈😈

[itsgirlcraft]

Rainbow Quest Roleswap AU - Prologue

Heh. Look at my emotionally damaging fic, boy /hj (I love that the prologue reads like an epilogue 🥰)

@its-indigos

You really liked the prev rambling of the au so- lemme know if you wanna be tagged when future chapters post- (there r four <3)

@dracl-dragon bc yes :3

I smiled, watching young Origin exploring the meadow.

I don't know how long it was since I'd restarted the time loop. The Origin hung around a silk string on my head Origin Steve crafted himself.

It was almost like I was a dad now. He now was my world. Who knows how long it'd be until I'd have to dissappear into the background and let fate take hold. I dreaded what would happen to me when it came.

I mean, I couldn't be seen by the Steves Origin would one day create. The past can't be changed, or else reality could break.

But none of that mattered at that moment. I needed to be there for Origin. I needed to teach him all I knew. All he would need to become that ancient Creator I knew.

Maybe he'll start creating before I leave his side. Maybe some Steves will see the true Creator, once and never again. Maybe the truth will be forgotten.

But the one thing I knew I could not tell Origin was of The First Curse. It has to happen. I can't tell him what will happen. Reality itself could fall apart if I screw up.

No pressure there..

...

That had been years ago. Time flies by, heh. Origin Steve was maturing fast. He was already able to create life. I had yet to tell him the complete truth. Of the Origin. Of me and him.

I was changing too. Spending so much time around such pure power transformed me. I had massive black-tipped white wings. Which meant new clothes.

I started wearing draped cloth that tied around my neck or shoulder with a decorative belt. I obviously kept every trinket and memento from my past. I'd managed to keep them intact throughout everything.

I never showed them to Origin. It was too risky to bring up the past..er..future, yet.

Nevertheless, I liked it here. It was so peaceful. I loved watching Origin practice his powers from the edge of the house.

It was a simple little thing. A treehouse. It reminded me of childhood. Except instead of imaginary magic and creatures, it was filled with real magic. The spiral staircase of crimson and warped wood ran around the thick trunk, splitting off with the branches.

In the first week I'd been here, I'd built a very simple treehouse the player way. With my own tools and resources gathered by hand. It was a great time for Origin to learn as well.

Over the years, we've renovated that same treehouse into a beautiful, whimsical, fantastical home. We'd transformed the leaves into rainbow colors that sparkled in the morning light. The branches grew out, and we added more to our home with each branch so wide we could run around without falling.

A training arena using the thick, twisting wood and sharp points as obstacles, rocks and water added in for variety. An enchanting area, built into a knot. That place always flowed with magic. A farm. A crystal-clear pond surrounded by smaller trees where fireflies floated above in evenings, blending in with the stars.

I taught him everything I knew as a player. He found his own way. When we'd spend hours underground, he'd teleport into random caves with no entrances and find diamonds. After I showed him how to make a Nether portal, he showed me his own dimensional portal.

The new dimension was empty of Steves, of course. But it was beautiful. Giant fish swam through the blue-white sky, passing by floating islands filled with mystical hybrid creatures. They all had one thing in common - the pure blue eyes. They reminded me of Origin himself.

We'd moved the portals into the house too. The Nether had its own dedicated room, filled with brewing materials and a pit of lava covered in glass in the center. The other sat at the top of the tree, surrounded by clouds. We'd decided to name the new dimension the Ascended, since the fish and islands floated.

I loved flying through the blue-hued landscape with Origin. It became a regular activity. I felt so free.

It was the lonely times that made it unbearable. Origin had truly become my world, my everything. Nothing else filled the growing emptiness from banishing myself here. It never felt like banishment when Origin was around. Every day he had something new to tell me about or discover. But it felt like torture when he was off doing his own thing. What I'd give to soften the loneliness.

I knew I had to get used to it.

He was becoming a young man. I'd not be needed one day..

...

It had been so long since then. Today was the first day he'd create a true Steve. When I'd no longer be needed.

He'd learned everything I knew. He made his own path and I knew I couldn't follow him once he's gone too far.

It was an Orange Steve. He played with them, just like I had with him. He showed them the world. Our world. Their world.

They were fascinated by everything, wanted to build, to create. I smiled, knowing Origin did it right.

It had been Origin's 18th birthday that I'd given him the Origin. The nether star-like artifact now hung around his own head.

I had changed so much from my original self. My human self. I had long, rainbow tail feathers. I had stopped wearing my bandanna, showing eyes healed from darkness. They were now glowing green, like Origin's own shimmering blue eyes. I had grown large antlers that grew tiny colorful crystals.

Origin had grown a similar set of antlers. Some crystals were growing on his, one of each color.

I knew it would be someday soon I'd not be needed.

...

It had only been a month, but we already had a small village of Steves bustling about with every color. I never used my real name around them. I called myself Creator, Father of All, whatever.

I had told Origin of the past/future long ago. That I one day would no longer be by his side and he'd make some major decisions. He'd have to lead these Steves to glory without me.

Our tree had grown massive, the bark turned a deep rainbow of colors and the leaves pastel rainbow. We hadn't made the changes, it had changed itself. The world was changing. It was flowing with magic.

And now he was ready.

I could leave his side now. Origin had become a leader. I can only hope that I taught him well. That the battle against TFC will not bring about mass destruction of all.

It was inevitable. It all was. I would leave one day. He would create The First Curse. TFC would gain sentience and bring about misery.

But where would I go? To my world? Would I forget everything and do this all over again, until the end of my own existence? Was I cursed to forever loop in a neverending call to duty? Or perhaps I would vanish in a literal way. This form would just stop existing to make way for fate. For the future. For the past me coming in generations later from now.

I fear not what will end, but what will follow.

...

It had been only a couple weeks, and Origin's crystals had fully grown. He knew what they did, and gave them to the Steves. He created the Judge in my likeness. The Steves had quickly expanded into little villages.

I had been exploring the roots of the Rainbow Tree Of Life (that's what the Steves called it, anyways) when I had a thought. Perhaps nothing would come to take me away. I had to do it myself.

So I made a secret room deep underground.

I had grown to 5 blocks by then, so it was considerably smaller than I needed at first. I had gained claws as well, so I had stopped wearing shoes altogether.

I had to expand the little room twice to make enough room to use my magic. I had realized I could probably make portals just like Origin.

I had never bothered to try, so I needed to practice. Deep within the roots, I practiced again and again to create. I had only created one being: Origin Steve. And that was with the help of the Origin.

I had to create a portal to a new dimension I'd never been to without the Origin. And without Origin Steve either. I imitated the moves of the Orange Steves, the free flowing movements awakening the Creator within.

I practiced every day. Letting the symphony of the march of time flow through me. I remembered the good times. The bad times. All that led to my eventual disappearance from the timeline.

I couldn't stay here. Not any longer. It was once my destiny to save this land. And now it is my duty to leave it.

I don't know how long I spent there until it happened. A glistening portal. The frame shimmered in a reversed rainbow, the middle black as Void Steve. An orange center glowed in the deep abyss.

I knew once I stepped through I'd never be back. I would destroy it with my exit from this world.

I returned to the house, which suddenly felt distant. Like a forgotten memory. I wandered the now long, intricately detailed halls and rooms, reminiscing on all my memories. I went into the one room I knew I built myself, with wood and stone.

A memorial to the past.

I had made paper cranes representing everyone from my past. Origin, Rainbow, Light, Dark, Time...they were all there. Except for The First Curse. He doesn't deserve to be remembered at all.

I hung the necklace from Orange Steve/Rainbow around a poorly made wooden carving of him.

I made another for Dark out of gilded blackstone. On his I placed the gold ring he gave me in his final moments.

I made a crude clock mask, placing it on a vaguely Steve-shaped quartz figure for Time.

Directly beside Time's was a full sculpture I tried to make out of leaves, dirt, netherrack, and rocks. It didn't look great, but it was my dedication to Elemental. A fake slice of pie was placed before him.

I made a pair of fake wings for the Blue Steve that became Soul Steve with my molted feathers that I dyed blue. I placed a halo atop their statue's head, made from quartz scraps.

I made so many over the years. One for every person besides the Demons and TFC. I used my own mini crystals to decorate Orange Steve's carving and many others. M, Light, Green, Yellow, the leaders, all of them.

I made Origin's last. It was that same day I'd made that portal.

I had returned with an intricate, pale blue woven silk cloak. Reminiscent of my old green hoodie, which I'd grown out of long ago. It almost sparkled in the light.

I would spend my last days by Origin's side, making sure he knows I love him. This was only a temporary goodbye, after all.

I wrote him a letter, to put in the memorial. He'd find it soon after I'd leave. I would leave a key by his bed. Him being the curious guy he is, would look for it.

I tried not to cry as I stood in the massive room, knowing I'd never see anything again. I didn't know what would happen and all I wanted was for everyone to be happy. To live a good life.

But I knew it would go wrong. The future was dark for them but it would heal. My own future was lonely in the fog of the unknown.

I will cause good and bad times. And I end and begin conflict. And I've brought the love and hate. I am the center of the universe.

And now this center needed to leave. They would fall in the dusk but rise in the dawn. Perhaps I'll be around to see it all again.

How I wish I could change it. Make them all happy. None of them deserve death. Even Void once was a hero. He brought pain, but so have I.

None of us are completely good or bad. We are all but shades of gray. Some shine brighter than others. Some darken. Others brighten over time, often brighter than those once lighter than them.

And now that I have brought the light, it is time to turn the light off and go to sleep. Perhaps we shall meet again in my dreams.

Goodbye Origin. I love you.

I stepped through the portal after slipping the key into Origin's room. Hopefully he'll understand. He knew the truth after all.

My body burned as I stepped through. My bandanna the last thing left behind as the portal collapsed with me in blue and green flames.

Goodbye everyone. You'll never know me but I love you all. I wish you'd know I did this for you. I love you more than anything.

[gorgonwrites]

bound to you (part 2)

diluc x fem!reader

wc: 2, 205

authors note: okay i know i said i like jumping into the thick of things but i am such a SLUT for characters slowly falling in love and the tension of dancing around one another before they get together UGH! here is a part 2 for my first fic. :) also! this is a side blog and i realized im not really able to interact much with other accounts here. i might eventually move things over to my main blog bc i dont do much over there anyways. dont be alarmed if "witchcraftandwhisky" replies or likes something lololol. thank you for the love <333

CW: 18+, fem! reader, reader is an artist! slight voyeurism, diluc accidentally catches reader masterbating, MDNI!!!, diluc AND reader are still dancing around each other rn ugh just fuck already damn

It’s been days since you briefly spoke with your husband, Diluc. He’s kept himself busy with the remainder of the harvest season, and you’ve felt uncharacteristically shy in his presence after his impromptu visit to your chambers. You have the perfect view of the vineyard from your window and you couldn’t help but greedily watch him, shirtless and hair tied up to stay off of his neck. He’s tanned quite a bit since he’s been home and you were pleasantly surprised to see the explosions of freckles that have erupted on his skin. Cute, you thought. There was some jealousy though, and you cursed the sun for being able to caress his skin so easily. You clapped your hands to either side of your face to rid yourself of the thought, and decided to be productive rather than wasting your afternoon in your window. 

Your eyes drifted to the corner of your room and after further inspection, you found your paints and canvases that had been long forgotten. I’ve hardly painted since I’ve been here… maybe some sketching will do my mind some good. You rummaged through the pile of art supplies to find an old sketchbook and some pencils and decided to find a shady tree outside. Adelinde greets you at the door of the manor, umbrella in hand to shield you from the hot summer sun. You both find a large tree with a lovely view of the vineyard and the manor, and you begin to sketch while chatting away with the head maid. 

After what felt like hours, a large shadow was cast over your sketch, and you were forced to look up and squint into the sun. Your husband loomed over you, glistening with sweat and looking curiously at your sketchbook. You quickly clutched it to your chest, startled by his sudden appearance. 

“Good afternoon, Master Diluc.” you couldn’t bring yourself to address him so casually yet, and his slight change in expression at your insisted formality was not lost on you. You began to fidget where you sat, and broke eye contact with Diluc to glance out at the vineyard where the rest of the men worked. 

“Oh, I think one of the boys needs me. Excuse me my Lady, Master Diluc.” Adelinde quickly said, winking at you before she gathered herself and quickly walked away. Up to no good. You tried to smile, but it came out looking like a grimace at your husband. 

“Y/n, good afternoon. I didn’t know you were an artist. May I see?” Diluc sounded as gentle as always, and you couldn’t help but hand your sketchbook over to him.

“I think saying I’m an artist is a stretch,” you sputtered, “it’s just something I do to pass the time. It calms my mind.” You didn’t know why him referring to you as an artist felt so embarrassing. You watched him closely while he flipped through the pages, noticing how his brows pinch together while he concentrates. He stopped suddenly, and chuckled. 

“Who, might I ask, is this?” He turned the sketchbook around only to show you a sketch you had done of his portrait that hung in the grand room of the manor. You gasped and snatched it from his hands instantly, curling in on yourself. You had drawn that not long after your arrival to the Dawn Winery, when you were still slightly optimistic about how your marriage to your husband would turn out. Diluc let out a roaring laugh, having to lean over you and brace himself on the tree so he didn’t fall over. You looked up at him and realized this was the closest you had ever been to him. You hadn't noticed just how many freckles had appeared on his skin. You noticed how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you saw fine red hair peppered across his chest. You also noticed faint scarring on his arms and stomach, and you mindlessly reached out to touch them. Diluc hissed at the sudden contact and quickly retreated out of reach, his own hands covering where your fingers had brushed. 

“I’m sorry!” you squeaked. You knew your husband couldn’t stand the cold, and you had been sparingly using your vision to keep yourself cool while you sketched. You knew your touch felt unpleasant. 

“I know you don’t like the cold, that was thoughtless of me.” you quickly apologized, feeling sorry and even more embarrassed than you already were. You made eye contact with him and Diluc held your gaze, looking confused. 

“How did you know that?” he tilted his head, letting go of his side and crossing his arms.

“Oh I, ah- you don’t like the cold so I’ve heard.” Adelinde had discussed Diluc’s aversion to the cold with you before, but you didn’t have many details as to why.

“I try not to use my vision while you’re home, but it’s exceedingly hot today.” you mumbled, bringing your sketchbook up to hide your face as you finally looked away from your husband. 

“I see. You,” he cleared his throat, “don’t have to do that you know.” You looked up at him again, noticing how red his face and ears were. Was it from the sun, or was he blushing? You couldn’t be sure. 

“That was actually why I came over in the first place- everyone wants more of the frozen drinks you made the other day. And I- I thought that may be something to keep you busy for the rest of the afternoon.” He was talking into his hand, still unable to look at you. Oh, how the tables have turned. You felt a wicked feeling bubble up in your chest, and you grinned ear to ear. 

“Oh, Master Diluc, you’d have your little wife work tirelessly to serve drinks to your employees? How indecent of you.” you smirked, resting your chin in the palm of your hand while you wait for his response. He gathered his composure quickly, and leaned over you to whisper in your ear.

“My little wife doesn’t know just how indecent her husband can be, hm?” his voice was low and felt hot in your ear, and he moved away from you all too quickly. You sat astounded, frozen in place. He’d never spoken to you in that tone before. He cleared his throat again, and his regular formal demeanor returned. 

“Besides, we don’t want you to die of boredom, do we?” he wasn’t smiling, but you heard a hint of playfulness in his voice. You shook your head in agreeance, still astounded by his sudden brazen comment. He nodded to you, and then quickly left to return to his work. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, heading straight for your core. You rubbed your thighs together in hopes of quelling your growing arousal, but it had no effect. You silently curse yourself, trying to regain your composure as Adelinde returns to your side, a smile on her face. 

“Shall we head to the kitchen?” she politely asked. You nodded again, not trusting your voice in the slightest. You gathered your things and stood up on wobbly knees to head back inside. You needed a reprieve from the sun, and you jumped at the chance to freely use your vision. Your mind wandered aimlessly as you worked, and you wondered if your husband would ever come to tolerate your touch. Why does he not like the cold? Is this the reason you rarely see him? What does he do when winter arrives? Your thoughts raced, one flowing right into the other. You realized you had long since been done with the frozen drinks, and Adelinde was calling your name frantically.

“Lady y/n! Are you alright?” you blinked in response, and realized it was snowing lightly in your kitchen. You tried to laugh it off, but Adelinde knew better.

“I’m okay, don’t worry. I was getting a bit excited while making everyone their drinks. I’m happy to have something to do!” you smiled, picking up the tray and turning to head back outside. You needed to get to your chambers as quickly as possible before the relentless heat between your thighs became unbearable. 

Diluc couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the afternoon. His brief loss of control with you earlier was at the forefront of his mind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked at him afterwards. Your eyes turned hazy and a flush had quickly formed on your chest and neck. It was the heat, he told himself. He felt so bold in that moment, but now he wanted nothing more than to leave the manor and not return for a few weeks to let himself rebuild the wall that was quickly crumbling around him. With the final harvests coming to an end rapidly, he was going to be around Dawn Winery much more than usual. He usually welcomes this time of year, when he can spend a little more time to himself and rest. This year, he could feel dread slowly building inside of him. Maybe he couldn’t entertain you and keep himself as composed as he first thought. He greatly underestimated your ability to fluster him, and there was still a part of him that was reluctant to grow close to you. Growing close to someone means there's an opportunity to lose them. He quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and decided he’d pay another visit to your chambers.

As he walked across the manor, he thought about if you needed more art supplies. You were quite talented, and he selfishly wondered if you had drawn him more than once. You had given him a happier expression than the one displayed in his portrait, and the thought brought a smile to his face. He decided to find the best supplies money could buy in all of Teyvat as a gift for you. He came to a halt, realizing he was at your room quicker than he expected. He raised his hand to knock softly, and froze in place when he heard your voice from the other side of the door. 

“Diluc, please-” you whined. He was hearing things, he was sure of it. The heat had finally gotten to him and he was becoming delusional. He had to confirm his suspicions, though, and nothing prepared him for the image he met after quietly opening your door. 

You were sprawled out on your bed with your nightdress hiked up to your hips, legs spread impossibly wide. One arm was thrown over your face and covered your eyes while you concentrated and your other hand was at your core, fingers plunging in and out of your pretty pussy. Your breathing was heavy, and Diluc could feel heat climbing up his chest. You were so close. You pulled your fingers out to focus on your puffy clit, wanting to let the feeling last a little longer. You suddenly changed your position, startling your husband. You were completely unaware of your audience as you got onto your knees and shoved your face into your pillows. You continued your ministrations, and your ass was on full display. Diluc’s cock was so hard it was beginning to hurt, and he could tell by your quickened breathing that you were close. With a quiet cry, you came on your fingers. Your juices ran down your hands and shaking thighs as you stilled and sighed. Diluc suddenly turned and quietly bolted out of your room, not bothering to shut your door for fear of the noise alerting you to his presence. He slammed his own door behind him, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his body. He was undeniably aroused, his cock straining against his trousers.

So much for controlling myself, he chided. He wanted to absolutely ravish you. He wanted to touch you, to taste you, and have you crying out his name over and over and over again. He slid down the door, resting his arms over his knees as he sat down. Dragging his palms down his face, he groaned. The image of you touching yourself to the thought of him was burned into his memory, and he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.

[vxsellie]

okokok so ik i JUST posted about hozier, but i have another song to yap about while i'm here

and idc what anybody says bc 'in the woods somewhere' is a literary fucking masterpiece and deserves to be talked about

it's a story of grief and mourning, depicting the narrator learning to live his life again without his lover in it. it's written in a way that's easy to understand, yet still poetic and symbolic, leaving a mark on anyone who takes the time to actually understand what this genius of a man is trying to say

"my head was warm, my skin was soaked, i called your name 'til the fever broke. when i awoke, the moon still hung, the night so black that the darkness hummed."

the first few lines paint a picture of grief as well as the sorrow that follows it. the narrator is lost and in pain because he'd succumbed to a fever that was caused by his own lack of care for himself.

he wakes in the middle of the night, which shows that all this misery that he'd been enduring is all very small in the grand scheme of things. it's one thing to endure all this for days on end. but it's a whole separate thing to go through pain and suffering only to find out its only been a few hours.

"i raised myself, my legs were weak, i prayed my mind be good to me."

this is simply more description on how poorly he's doing. before, it was showing his health in a mental sense. now, however, the song is going on to depict how this ignorance toward himself is effecting his body in a physical sense as well.

"an awful noise filled the air. i heard a scream, in the woods somewhere."

i feel like this bit is self explanatory. he woke in the middle of the night, tormented by memories of whoever he's mourning (the person whose name they were screaming in the beginning) and now we know that he's also in the middle of the woods ???

him being in the woods can be symbolic to his lack of awareness for the world around him amid his time of grief, but it can also be in a literal sense ⎯ which is the one that i'll be diving into

"a woman's voice. i quickly ran, into the trees with empty hands."

this is the HUUUUUGE turning point for the narrator's character.

somebody who is grief stricken would normally sleep their days away and let themselves feel nothing but the pain that they believe they deserve. clearly, the narrator is no acceptation to this. we don't know how long he'd been wasting away ⎯ allowing their fever to get worse and their legs to grow weak. though, if anyone were to guess, it's likely been a long time.

now he suddenly hears somebody scream in the distance. and, without a second thought nor a moment of hesitation, he runs directly into the woods without any weapon or means to protect himself.

i feel like this shows how much he truly doesn't care for his health or his life at all, as most people wouldn't run toward danger so impulsively. or if they were to, they'd at least bring something for defense.

but the fact that our narrator didn't goes to show his lack of interest for his own wellbeing ⎯ which is telling, considering he still clearly cares for others around him (hence him running toward danger simply bc someone screamed & might need his help).

"a fox it was. he shook, afraid, i spoke no words. no sound he made."

mic drop.

he heard a woman's scream and ran towards it despite his fever, his weak legs, and his lack of, well, health in general. he did all this only to learn that it's not a woman. it's a fox.

the two creatures ⎯ man and for ⎯ stare at one another, not a single noise being made by either of them.

i like to think that the narrator is seeing himself in the fox for this verse. the way it's staring at him with scared eyes, shaking with fear. there's no way he's looking at it without at least a little bit of recognition, knowing how it feels to be so lost and alone, seeing as he was in that same boat only moments ago.

"his bone exposed, his hind was lame. i rose a stone, to end his pain."

the narrator now sees how awful the fox's situation is. bone exposed, the song says. this means it's likely covered in blood and nearing it's death. in other words, the animal that the narrator could see himself in? it's dying. quite symbolic if i do say so myself ⎯ the fox acting as a mirror for the man to see himself through the eyes of an outsider. and what's the first thing he does when he sees the pure misery of the fox? seek to put the poor thing out of it.

the awareness of there similarities would normally push someone to treat the animal with kindness ⎯ to at least try to help it live. but our narrator knows better. living on when one doesn't want to is oftentimes worse than dying, because you likely already feel dead.

"what caused the wound? how large the teeth? i saw new eyes were watching me."

this verse shows that he's now not just seeing the animal as a random creature. he's pondering and wondering what hurt it and why.

then, he realizes that the animal that hurt the fox isn't yet gone. it's watching him. this is a simple verse ⎯ wondering why the fox was hurt, then turning and seeing the animal that hurt it.

but nothing by hozier is simple, there's always an underlying message. here, i think the message is that the narrator is the new prey. he's now being put in the position that the fox was just in ⎯ parallel to how the fox is in the pained position that the narrator was just in.

"the creature lunged, i turned and ran, to save a life i didn't have."

okay. now this?

THIS?

this is where it's proven that the narrator is experiencing some character development.

at the beginning, he was rotting away in the soil of some random woods, not caring for his health, wellbeing, or life at all. he didn't give a single fuck whether or not he would die - hence why he's sleeping in the center of the woods with no means of protection on him.

but as soon as this allegedly meaningless life is in danger or put at stake, he now desperately want to save himself. he's trying to save his own life. one that he wasn't sure he even had to begin with.

"deer in the chase, there as i flew. forgot all prayers of joining you."

okay okay okay. bare with me here.

hozier, the man that you are. they could never make me hate you. and this is why.

see, the idea that the narrator was now the prey is confirmed here. he very blatantly compares himself to a deer ⎯ an animal that's known for being prey to those larger than it. he fled the scene like a deer. like prey. like the fox.

"forgot all prayers of joining you" is such an insanely heavy line that i cannot even try and fit it all in here. i could yap forever on it.

we already knew that he wanted to die. we already knew that he nearly killed the thing that he saw as himself [the fox]. we already knew that he was mourning someone.

but here it is, laid out bare and comprehensible.

the narrator had prayed to join his lover, thereby having prayed to die. but now, when it actually comes down to it, he's fighting to live.

"i clutched my life and wished it kept. my dearest love, i'm not done yet."

ASJHDAJSHGDKAHSDHJAS

him clutching his life just shows how painfully desperate he is to live. to not die. he's holding it the way he (should have) held a weapon to defend himself. but due to his previous ignorance for his own life, he now has no way to save this life.

he can do naught but wish. it. kept.

the fact that he's wishing for their life to continue when we just learned that he had wished for it to end??? that's fucking unreal. like. what.

the bolded line is my absolute favorite hozier lyric to exist. there's so many beautiful lyrics that andrew has written and so many that i absolutely adore & could yap about forever, but nothing compares to that line. nothing compares to the first time i registered what it meant and how extremely fucking insane it is.

because. the narrator is not apologizing to his lover, he's simply informing them that he now wishes to live.

but he could have said "i want to live" which would be more simple and much more easy for people to understand. he also could have said "i don't want to die" which, again, would be so much easier to comprehend.

instead, he say "i am not done yet" and i think that wording is so powerfully heavy as it appeals to the idea that more is to come. more bad things are inevitably to present themselves in his life. and, despite that, he wishes to continue.

"how many years i know i'll bear i found something in the woods somewhere."

he then goes on to say that the remaining years of his life will be a burden. he will 'bear' them. he won't live them, because he never said that he wishes to be happy. he simply doesn't wish to die any longer than he already had felt dead.

he says that he found something that day. he found life.

also, this is irrelevant, but i love the fact that the song ended on with the title, but didn't begin with it. because their life started at the end of the song, not at the beginning.

[gayleviticus]

I didn't really notice this before but it's interesting how in the dispute over whether Jesus is casting out demons because he himself is on the devils payroll in Matthew 12 - there's the famous bit about blasphemy against the Holy Spirit which lots of people get hung up on (and understandably so, esp if you struggle w scrupulousity and OCD - very inflammatory thing to put in the Bible @ God).

but Jesus then goes on to talk about good and bad fruits, and this line struck me: "Either make the tree out to be good and its fruit good, or make the tree out to be rotten and its fruit rotten; for the tree is known by its fruit."

you can kinda sense his frustration here. "make up your minds! either I'm doing something wrong or I'm not; can we not try to claim that I have some evil hidden ulterior motive that makes all the good things I'm doing secretly bad."

now sure, there are circumstances where people can do or support good things for bad reasons (nazis using anti Zionist sentiment as a dogwhistle; terfs making a song and dance about feminism - altho id argue neither of these groups are particularly 'doing' good things just hijacking them, but there are also just homophobic conservative churches that do run soup kitchens and food banks and yet that doesn't counterbalance the bad they do) or do bad things for what they perceive to be good reasons. but seems like what Jesus is talking about is again his old maxim of judge trees by their fruit; don't decide a priori that since X person is wrong therefore everything they do is tainted with wickedness.

blasphemy of the Holy Spirit happens when people see God at work doing good things and decide, in order to preserve their preconceived ideas about the way things are and what's good and bad, to call good evil.

and I think the reason that's an 'unforgivable' sin isn't necessarily because it's a particularly heinous one, but because it fundamentally warps your ability to interpret the actions of God. If you see God's goodness and mercy and grace at work in the world and decide well actually that's the Devil - how are you supposed to ever break out of that and truly recognise God? it's like when someone is hyped up on flat earth, creationism, anti vaxxer, protocols of the elders of Zion conspiracy theories; they've kinda destroyed their ability to even consider any alternative simply by loudly insisting any counterpoint is propaganda, any evidence to the contrary is fabricated, science itself is a hoax. blasphemy of the Holy Spirit is the same; people have destroyed any external benchmark (such as the harm and suffering being created) for judging their interpretations of scripture and faith.

and I can't help but think a bit on queer christians (as usual; I need to start finding other topics to get on my soapbox about), bc when we offer the fact that gay relationships or gender transition cultivate love and joy and peace and kindness and goodness, we get very much the same answer as Jesus' critics gave. "Pff. It's the work of the Devil." People a priori reject the good and life giving things we find in queerness because they don't want to deal with the implications of that. and so we get people insisting that bad trees can bear good fruit.

now in fairness they often do try for consistency and insist that actually this good fruit is a hollow lie and truly LGBTQ people are suffering underneath from living against God's will. but I think this view is losing its power bit by bit bc people understand it's asserting ideology over reality. it's a hard sell and not an intellectually serious position. either make the tree good and its fruit good, or make the tree bad and its fruit bad

[pinksikhewei]

Hot Cocoa, Hummingbirds, and Something Sort of Like Healing.

Bucky quickly made himself enamored as flapping wings and the green tree leaves filled the screen. He tried to throw himself into the colorful songbirds and facts of sweet crows, tried to imagine himself flying away into a free sky with none of his heavy worries and bones as light as air. He tried not to remind himself of the lab rat he used to be, or of the torture or the abuse.

But at the end of the day, Bucky always ended up back there. He couldn’t get away from it, from himself.

Word count: ~2.1K

Content: Autistic!Bucky, protective Steve Rogers, he’s a really good friend, but I guess you could ship them in this if you want to, angst/comfort eventually, but I didn’t write the comfort only the very beginning of it 💔, I lowkey don’t even know what point in the fucking timeline I was in just imagine anything post!Civil War atp, Bucky’s special interest is birds bcs I said so

A/n: this one was lowkey difficult cos I tried not to mischaracterize Bucky while also doing that intentionally 😭 but anyways as an autistic person who oftentimes feels like their needs are annoying and embarrassing, this fic is a little bit special to me :)

Based on the last headcanon from this post

Reblogs/notes appreciated !!! Crossposted to ao3 from the same handle!

🥀

The tag on the inside of his shirt, the seams on his jeans, the slight prickle of his hair against his neck, the buzzing of every god-forsaken machine Tony had jammed into every possible nook and cranny. Bucky felt it all, heard it all. He sensed it down deep into his bones, and the years of conditioning to sense more than he was supposed to didn't help, either.

His week, overall, had been a pretty shitty one. From the rain hiding away the birds in the trees to the near-failed missions the team had gone on to the cold weather, he'd had enough.

He hated when he couldn't see the birds-- the cardinals and the Calliope Hummingbirds and the mourning doves stowed neatly into the tens of birdhouses hung outside Bucky's expansive window in his room in the Avengers' compound. 

He hated when his motor skills grew poor from exhaustion and overwhelm and his clunky metal arm didn't move where it told him to move, when his voice didn't move as fast as his brain, when it impacted his performance while he was working. He hated the way getting hit during battle and losing made him feel when for seventy-some years, he would never even dream of missing a single swing.

And the cold. Oh, how he hated the cold down to his rotten, strung out core. The cold reminded him of the cryo-freeze, the isolation, the chill against his back as he sat down to have his brain wiped, the being stuck in his worst nightmare.

The autism didn't help anything, either; only made things worse. It only made his heart break when he couldn't catalogue his dear birds, since they had been one of the only things to survive the conditioning of The Winter Soldier-- his special interest. It only made his need to be perfect heightened when those motor skills declined. It only made him feel the cold as what felt like a thousand times worse. It only made him feel so much more alone. Alone no matter how much the people around him told him he wasn't.

So, since he still hadn't worked out how to handle that, he went back to what he knew best. He put up a mask; a good one. It wasn't like he could hide the slurred speech or the running into corners sometimes, but he could hide the way it bothered him when the team laughed a little too hard on the jet, the way he had forgotten to eat for two days because Steve had forgotten to remind him, how he changed his shirt four times in the morning just to find one with an okay texture. He learned to ignore the way his brain needed quiet, the way he hated the smell of Tony's new cologne. He learned to keep his mouth shut when everyone was cracking jokes he didn't quite understand.

Sometimes, it worried him ever so slightly when it got bad. He felt like maybe he was just letting himself become The Winter Soldier again; silent, uncomplaining, numb. Steve worried, too, but he knew better than to say anything. It'd been like this for a while, even before Natasha had floated around the idea that maybe Bucky was on the spectrum, before the whole team had sort of just accepted it was the truth and kept going on without making it a big deal. Before Bucky had learned to hate those parts of himself.

Once or twice a month, sometimes even three, Bucky would start to crumble. He'd been masking and masking for so long, and he would keep up doing it until he genuinely couldn't manage it anymore. Steve had grown a sort of sense about it-- recognizing when the man would start to wince at the loud noises, stare off into space, run into the edges of countertops and pretend like it never happened, pull at the collar of his shirt like it was choking him. And Steve would be right there with him, subtly. There'd been an instance where he tried to talk to Bucky, help him relax, but had instead been on the receiving end of a meltdown where Bucky had hit him and screamed that he was okay.

Bucky had never felt more horrible, even though he didn't mean to do it all.

Steve had never felt so forgiving.

So, that Steve had slowly learned to get himself where he was then, making Bucky a simple bowl of plain grits exactly how he knew the other liked them, and leaving it on the counter when he heard him start to walk down the hall from his room.

He took one look at Bucky, tugging at his shirt's collar, and frowned.

"You're gonna have a bad day today, huh?" He said softly, pouring him a small glass of water.

Bucky took a moment, and did something he didn't often do.

He nodded; very reluctantly, but he nodded nonetheless.

"I appreciate you being honest," Steve smiled. "And I'm not mad, you're not annoying, and no you are not horrible or weird or a burden."

Bucky chuckled ever so slightly and took a bite of his food. It took him a while to work through it, the process of eating just being a bit difficult, and by the time the bowl was empty almost everyone else had woken up for a scheduled training session Tony had planned the week before. Bucky was both glad it was happening and dreading it all at the same time. He liked the problem solving exercises FRIDAY would generate for them to solve. Those were logical, predictable, perfect-able. He could knock them out in seconds. He liked proving he was worth something on the team.

So, when they finally made it to the training room, and Tony casually announced that he was reprogramming the AI for the small exercises, Bucky could have cried right then and there. The one thing he had actually planned to do all day, and the plans had changed. He took a deep breath, telling himself it was stupid to be upset over such a small thing, and ignored it. He went through the motions of the rest of the training, unfortunately getting toppled over by Peter a couple times, and ignoring everything he felt just to make it through the hour.

He felt embarrassingly exhausted, and it was only 11 AM. Bucky wished he knew how to be normal, or even just how to let himself be himself, but he couldn't. He didn't know how to stop hiding.

He wished his disability was so much more manageable than it was, then. He wished he could go back to the 40’s when he wasn’t ever too bothered by it, when he could so easily tuck everything away like a locked box under a bed-frame or deep into a full closet.

The botched experiments and decimation HYDRA had done to his brain left it permanently broken. His comprehension skills sometimes got the better of him, his focus, his calmness (did he even know what that word meant anymore)?, and no matter what had happened nothing could be worse than his disability flooding to each and every corner of his mind after being trapped behind a dam for so long.

Seventy years was a long, long time to ignore something like that.

Even after escaping the loud chatter of the team and taking half-refuge in the kitchen, Bucky felt like his chest was being pressed on so hard he couldn't breathe. The lights stabbed his eyes and every sound wiggled so far into his ears he thought his brain might burst. His shirt's texture was really starting to get to him, and it was cold in the compound today.

"Bucky?" Steve's gentle voice reminded him he was alive. "You okay?"

Bucky shrugged, a bit shaky, and shook his head no. He sat, unmoving, at the kitchen counter with a dead expression, trying to hold himself together like a bad crochet project caught on something sharp.

“You’re not alright, are you?”

”I’m fine.” Bucky said quietly, rubbing a hand across his lips and directing his attention to the tiles of the floor.

Steve’s somewhat disappointed expression melted into something sympathetic; understanding, as he started to make a cup of hot cocoa. He decided, then, that he should probably play it out as if he didn’t really know Bucky was having a hard time, even though the both of them would see right through it.

”I’m making hot cocoa, I’ll make you some, too, but you don’t have to drink it.”

He heard a small huff and took that as a yes, pouring hot milk into a cup with a small photo of a bluejay on it. He’d made a conscious decision to avoid Bucky’s cardinal mug, afraid the stark red would bother him and remind him of HYDRA’s star branding.

When he finally placed the mug in front of Bucky, the latter immediately wrapped his hands around it, probably to warm them up due to his poor temperature regulation.

”How about we watch that good bird documentary you like? The one with the hummingbirds.” Sam asked gently.

Bucky seemed to hesitate, probably winding through the labyrinth of his brain where every twist and turn told him he didn’t deserve help. However, he got up and started the slow journey to his room.

Once he’d finally made it in, he set his mug on the nightstand of his bed, and tugged off his shoes, making his way under the deep blue covers. (He never figured out what his favorite color was, so he just picked Steve’s).

Steve sat down beside him, not touching him or really looking at him too hard, and asked FRIDAY to pull up the documentary in question so Bucky didn’t have to. The large window darkened to hide the dark rainy sky behind it and lit up in the shape of a television screen, showcasing one of Tony’s more intricate technologies.

Bucky quickly made himself enamored as flapping wings and the green tree leaves filled the screen. He tried to throw himself into the colorful songbirds and facts of sweet crows, tried to imagine himself flying away into a free sky with none of his heavy worries and bones as light as air. He tried not to remind himself of the lab rat he used to be, or of the torture or the abuse.

But at the end of the day, Bucky always ended up back there. He couldn’t get away from it, from himself.

”Steve?” He whispered when he felt embarrassing tears press at his shiny blue eyes.

”Yeah?” The blond replied, already hearing it in his voice.

Bucky didn’t answer for a moment, fighting with himself, wishing for a moment that he hadn’t even said anything.

”It’s cold.” Bucky finally said, his voice failing him halfway through.

He wrapped his own arms around himself as he just couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. He didn’t look at Steve, too ashamed, and Steve didn’t look at him, either. He knew better.

”FRIDAY, turn up the heat, please.” Steve said pointedly, and folded his half of the blanket over onto Bucky as a second layer. “You stay as close or far as you want, Buck. But know I’m here, I want to help, and I’m not judging you.”

Bucky felt like he was being ripped apart between letting himself be loved and helped or sparing what little dignity he had left. He wanted his brain to slow down and also stop feeling like mush, wanted his hands to stop shaking and his heart to stop aching.

Bucky wasn’t even sure how long they sat there, in silence other than the narrator’s kind voice and the occasional songbird’s cry.

He told himself, I am not strong enough for this.

”You’re strong, Bucky. Just breathe, it’s gonna be okay.”

And that was when Bucky turned over and dumped himself into Steve’s arms.

Unraveling into a messy pile of exhaustion, Bucky let himself be held only because he felt like he couldn’t do anything else. He let Steve just run the smallest of circles onto his back and tentatively pull him a little closer, because he didn’t have the energy to pull away.

”I’m not mad at you, you’re not weak or stupid or embarrassing. You’re my friend, Bucky. Just breathe.”

and maybe, everything would be just a little bit okay.

[absentcigarettes]

Whiskey Through Anger

Relationship: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

Word Count: 6751

Summary: Arthur near pitied the women who'd slept with Charles. He confused pity for envy. charles is mad bcs of the poachers who killed the bison, Arthur cheers him up by lending him his ass

Note: was my first time writing smut so it may be cringe. also it's completely un-beta'd so it might have mistakes

read on ao3

I need a drink.

That was the first thing Charles had thought after leaving the hunter bastards' camp. It was likely the only thing that would take his mind off of the merciless cruelty imposed upon those poor bison. It would also distract him from the unneglectable urge within him to hunt down the man who'd paid those poachers himself. That- and a quick fuck. Preferably with one of the saloon girls. The prostitutes would work, but most of them weren't as appealing to Charles; most looking for rich men rather than a good time. And it did well for Charles's ego whenever he successfully wooed the women into sleeping with him. On the way to Valentine, he'd suddenly remembered Taima's need to be brushed and fed. So with the most miniscule amount of sense left in his mind that had thankfully not been overtaken by the rumbling rage travelling through his veins, he turned back and rode towards camp.

He leaned against a tree, beside the horse's hitching posts, awaiting Taima's return from the lakeside. Earlier, he'd decided to settle for a quick shave. If he was gonna fuck, may as well be presentable. He shaved frequently but not daily; he wasn't into the scraggly, unkempt beards most men in the gang had. Except Arthur. That man could make anything Charles found revolting to be absolutely alluring.

Taima had returned, as he knew she would. "Here, girl.." He reached his hand out, to which she happily nestled her head in the palm of his hand. He felt his fury dissipate.

Until Micah came.

"Darkie!" The rough shrill of his voice called, "Where's your boyfriend?" Boyfriend. A nickname begun by Dutch to tease Arthur as he'd been seen frequently hanging around Charles more often. It ain't helped that they'd barely ever spoken up 'til Colter and that Charles rarely hung out with people. At best, he drank with Javier and John. Any other interaction with the gang members weren't personal. He didn't mind the nickname. But Arthur sure did, and that stung somehow.

"Excuse me?" His fury returned.

Micah leaned nearer, "You deaf, redskin?" He snarled, shoving him back. Charles could smell the nauseating toxins released from his mouth; Micah's breath was worse than a pile of rotting corpses.

Charles shoved Micah back. Harder. Micah fell back, knocking over the wooden crates behind him, as well as everything on them. The sound of the gang's belongings clattering on the dirt caused heads to turn in their direction. With the tip of his boot, he'd kicked Micah hard in the stomach, "Fuck." Another kick, "You." One final blow.

He considered spitting on him, but decided against it. He wouldn't resort to such feeble means to take his anger out.

"Let's go, girl," He said to Taima, jumping on his horse, who neighed in agreement before galloping away.

"Gimme a whiskey." He'd barged into the saloon and sat at the counter. The bartender was often friendly with Charles; despite the short time they'd been there, Charles had frequented going there to drink with Javier and at times, uninvited imbeciles such as Bill and when really unlucky- Uncle. Instead of striking up a conversation, as Charles usually would to pass the time, he stared at the bartender with dark eyes, expectantly awaiting his drink. It was evident that he was in a sour mood, so a glass was poured and served swiftly and without a word.

He took the sip, taking pleasure in how the burn in his throat so effectively distracted him from the seething wrath consuming him. Stirring the clear bronze liquid with his finger, he couldn't help but remember how he'd confronted those poachers. The anger that had overtaken him in that moment. The loud blast of the gunshot he'd heard after subconsciously shooting a dent in the man's face. He didn't regret it.

Suddenly, he remembered the cowardly pleas of the second poacher. How much he took pleasure in watching the man squirm. And suddenly- Arthur stepped in.

Arthur.

Oh, how his heart softened for that man.

He'd regretted yelling at him for letting the pathetic bastard go. He was always much more of a better man than Charles could ever be. Through his blind hatred, he couldn't think right, but there Arthur was. Returning to him his sight and helping him retrieve his mind- though, simultaneously overtaking his heart. After having first laid eyes on him back in Blackwater, the snarky cowboy with wits as well as beauty- he could never stop looking at him. For him. Whenever he'd leave Charles's line of sight, his eyes would instinctually begin to search for the man once more. He remembered wandering around the area for no particular reason but to catch a glimpse of him. At the time, he wasn't the kind to drink often, but whenever he was asked to tag along and told that Arthur would follow, he accepted immediately.

Pathetic. He thought. How delusional.

The man would never love him. He knew this. If by some miracle Arthur Morgan, the Van der Linde gang's best shot and toughest member, somehow held interest for the male sex, there was absolutely no way in hell he'd choose Charles.

It was enough for him that he could be considered a friend to Arthur. He was satisfied.

His solution to escape from his anger led him to wallowing in self-pitiful sorrow. Far worse than anger.

When the whiskey reduced to drops, he requested a second glass. Feeling his temper cooling, he sighed. Maybe time for that fuck.

A rough voice came, one he'd recognise anywhere: "I knew I'd find you here!" A slap on the back.

"Arthur." He near smiled.

The cowboy took a seat beside him and requested a beer. Charles took a sip, placing the glass down with a thud, "What are you doing here?"

His drink was served and Arthur took a sip. A smile played on his lips, "Heard a friend of mine were here. Unfortunately, it was you."

Though he knew Arthur joked often, he couldn't help the thought that lingered telling him it wasn't a joke. "Come on. Really."

"Well," Another sip, "I'd been searchin' for you."

"Hm?" He felt his cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, after I'd looted them bastards' camp, I rode back home. Thought you'd be there but all I'd seen were a very mad Micah." Arthur grinned, knowing damn well who caused Micah's well-deserved fury, "Second place I'd thought you'd be was here. Drownin' your anger in whiskey."

"You know me well." Charles smiled, taking a sip of whiskey.

"'Course i do."

Arthur accompanied him throughout the evening, 'til the sun had set and the customers increased. He provided a very welcome distraction for Charles from his foul mind and Charles was grateful.

The words they spoke became slurred and he couldn't help but notice how Arthur's lips turned more pink and how visible the flush on his cheeks were. They were both drunk. He knew that.

He hadn't drunken enough to puke his guts out or haze his vision 'til all he saw were distorting waves. But he was drunk enough for his lust to take over. Something that always happened when he drank and it certainly didn't help that right beside him was the man he oh so desperately craved for. They sat close. Too close. Charles could smell the wooden scent of his soap as well as the smell of cigarette smoke that lingered within his clothes. The whiff of whiskey on his breath, as he'd purchased a bottle for both him and Charles.

It didn't help the erection growing in his pants that their knees kept touching. And it certainly didn't help that Arthur was one touchy fella. Every few minutes a hand was placed on his thigh, shoulder or knee. It lingered a few seconds longer than natural that Charles nearly would've thought it was intentional if he didn't know any better.

When intoxicated he spoke his mind. It took a mighty amount of effort with the little composure he had left to prevent himself from yelling out his desire to fuck his closest friend. Instead he said, "I need a fuck."

Arthur stopped, "Don't wanna drink no more?"

"Mm.. not really."

"Really. Not enjoying my company?" He teased. God, of course he was.

"I always enjoy your company, Arthur," He said, slurring slightly. "But unless I can fuck you, I don't think I can sit here much longer. I'm still mad about this afternoon. Can't be sittin' here anymore- shit- I'd probably fuck you if I did." Fuck. Why would he say that. Why did he say that. Fuck fuck fuck.

The words Charles had uttered sent a spark down the pit of Arthur's stomach. Surely he didn't mean it like that. He was drunk. But then- so was Arthur. So he swallowed, "I wouldn't mind." The words come out before Arthur can stop them.

That had to be the alcohol talking, right? There would be no way in hell, that Arthur Morgan would ever say such a thing. Even if Charles was lucky enough to be blessed with the chance of even touching Arthur's bare torso- he wouldn't even dare to in fear of causing Arthur even the slightest bit of discomfort.

But.. Then again, he may never get such an opportunity again. Was Arthur bluffing? Or was it the whiskey. God, he couldn't think straight.

Finally he spoke, "What.." A pause, "What do you mean?"

He didn't dare look at Arthur.

Despite the bustle and laughter of the drunkards behind them and the sound of drinks being poured into glasses continuously, all that surrounded them was the awkward noise of silence. He looked at Arthur, surprised to find a prominent flush painted upon his cheeks, intentionally avoiding Charles's gaze, "I-" He cleared his throat, "A..As long as it'll help you."

Silence.

"Help me?"

A nod.

"You know what that means, Arthur?"

He swallowed. Another nod.

They sat in silence for a bit before Charles spoke, "Okay."

"..." Arthur chugged down his whiskey, "Okay."

Suddenly they were upstairs. In a room they'd rented, with Charles's large frame pressed up against Arthur's, pinning him against the door. With their mouths pressed together, moving messily in terrible synergy. Wet and sloppy as saliva ran down their chins. Their hands running across eachothers' bodice in desperation, eager for the most meager amount of contact. Charles's hands running down Arthur's sides and Arthur intertwining his own hands into Charles's hair, tangling the once straight strands and tugging at the scalp.

Immediately after renting a room they'd headed upstair, uncaring of the eyes that may have followed them nor the whispers that could've trailed behind. Once in said room, the door slammed and Arthur was shoved up against the door, Charles's lips crashing into his with drunken desire. Catching Arthur by surprise, taken aback by his aggressive passion. He didn't know what to do except melt into the sensation and oh. Oh, how good it felt. The way Charles kissed him was- he'd never been kissed like that before. Charles kissed him with hunger. With need. As if he were a man who'd starved for so very long and it was only Arthur who could satiate that hunger.

Charles placed a knee in between Arthur's thigh causing the man to break the kiss, eliciting a moan from him, "F-Fuc...k," He whispered. God, the sound was heaven. He couldn't believe this moment was real. That Arthur Morgan himself was so near. Pressed up against him in such a vulnerable position. He connected their lips once more, pushing his tongue into the man's open mouth causing Arthur to groan into the kiss. God, he was perfect.

Charles broke the kiss and stared at Arthur. His lips reddened and lustrous, slightly parted as Arthur panted heavily. Beautiful.

Leaning in once more, Charles pressed his lips upon his jaw. Trailing his jawline with kisses a small nips, down to his neck and collarbone. Arthur whimpered from receiving Charles's not so gentle bites and sucks. He wanted more.

"Arthur.." He hummed, leaving marks upon his collarbone.

"Y-yeah?"

"You're doing this to help me.. right?" He sucked another mark onto his terribly sunkissed skin.

He swallowed, "Y..es.

"Good.." He whispered, his voice low and sweet, dripping of luscious, sweetened syrup, it made Arthur feel something he hadn't felt before and he absolutely loved it. "Get on your knees."

"What?"

Charles caught a hint of doubt hidden among his words. He kissed his jaw, "You sure about this.. right?" He whispered, "You can still back out.." It was the last sober part of himself that spoke. He knew once they'd gone farther he would've been far too intoxicated by Arthur to stop.

"Yes." Arthur whispered, low and breathy.

"Good.. On your knees, Arthur." Arthur did as told.

He ran a hand through Arthur's hair in admiration, taking in every bit of the man. His eyes peering up to stare at Charles, his cheeks so very flushed and his lips. God. His lips. "Good boy.." He spoke. The praise sent a terribly satisfying warmth down the pit of Arthur's stomach.

Charles could feel his erection hardening at the sight of the man. Arthur watched as the man undid his belt, unbuttoning his pants, his eyes widening when they caught sight of the beast of Charles's cock. The length was slightly over average, nothing special but fuck, the girth. He near pitied the women who'd slept with Charles. He confused pity for envy.

He flushed. Beginning to understand what Charles wanted. "Charles.."

"Yes, Arthur?" Charles traced his jaw, tilting his head further upwards.

"I.. I ain't ever done this before.."

A force tugged upon Charles's lips. He smiled, "Don't worry, I'll guide you.."

A nod from Arthur.

"Use your mouth, love. Hands too. Just lick it, suck it.. yeah.. like that." Love. He'd never called him that before.

Arthur placed a hand at the base of the cock. Fuck, it was huge. He could barely wrap his hand around it. He swirled his tongue around the tip, flicking at it once in a while, simultaneously pumping at the base. He mouthed the sides of the prick before enclosing his lips around the head of his cock. A groan escaped Charles's lips, encouraging Arthur to continue. He tried hard to remember how women he'd been with in his past did it to him but it was so long ago he'd forgotten.

Pushing his head down further he felt the tip of the cock hit the back of his throat, he fought hard not to gag, pushing the cock down his throat 'till his nose was buried in the man's pubes.

"God, you're so beautiful.." Charles whispered. Arthur felt his own erection growing as he pulled his head back and forth, gagging on his cock each time. It felt so good. He never would've thought he could get off on choking on another man's cock but Charles made it feel so good. The hand tangled in his hair began to grip harder, taking control of Arthur's motions as it forced Arthur's head up and and down. The cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly made him gag. Arthur choked. Tried to pull back but Charles wouldn't let him, thrusting into his mouth as if he was nothing but a hole to relieve himself in.

Fuck, the thought made him harder.

His eyes rolled back as he choked on the cock, allowing Charles to take complete control as he relished in the his groans. "Fuck, fuck.. fuck, You're so good Arthur, so good for me. I'm gonna cum Arthur. Stay put for me, sweet thing.." Charles pushed his head down hard on his cock, not releasing the vigorous grip he had on Arthur. The man moaned, sending vibrations across his cock as he felt the hot, sticky liquid spill down his throat. Finally Charles let go, Arthur pulling back, panting hard as Charles's spend dripped down his chin. His lips reddened from the friction and his tongue stuck out with drool hanging off of it. His eyes glassy and face flushed. The sight was obscene. It nearly made Charles hard again.

"Arthur.." Charles sighed, his heart near implosion from the bliss of this moment. He pulled him up, pressing their lips together as they moved messily in poor attempts of synchronised rhythm. Through sloppily sensuous movements, Arthur panting in-between each slow motion. They stumbled towards the bed, Charles pushing Arthur not so gently down on the thin, old mattress. Finally he pulled away. Arthur panted, "D.. Did I do well?" His voice rasped.

God.. How adorable, "Yes, Arthur," He smiled, pressing a kiss upon his nose, "You were so good Arthur.. So good for me.."

The words unleashed a whine from Arthur, his cock pressing so hard against the fabric of his pants he feared the cloth would tear. Suddenly a palm rubbed at his groin. The moan Arthur let out was more than shameful. He covered his mouth with both hands, embarrassed of the volume of the sound.

"Don't cover your mouth," Charles whispered, palming harder between his thighs, "C'mon.. you made me feel so good, Arthur.. Tell me what I can do for you."

Arthur flushed, he didn't expect to receive any pleasure from this- though, in truth being this intimate with Charles was already far more pleasuring than anything he could ever have in his sad life. But he'd expected to help Charles release stress, doing anything Charles wanted, and once done he'd shamefully jerk off in silence with the thought of Charles's body above his (however far they'd go,) to help him relieve himself.

"I-It's fine Charles. I'm helpin' you get off, you don't gotta worry 'bout me."

"Yeah, but what if getting you off is what gets me off?" He spoke, pressing kisses across his clothed thighs.

"Then.. go ahead."

"Take off your clothes, sweetheart." Fuck, these pet names were getting out of hand. Arthur was enjoying them far too much.

He did as Charles said. With the cold air hitting his freckled skin, he couldn't help but feel so ashamed. Of his body and how turned off Charles might be. He felt too exposed. Charles just stared at him, his eyes never leaving, his gaze never faltering. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did he just fuck it up? Was Charles so disgusted by his body he couldn't even utter a measly syllable out of his soft, soft lips? Fuck. Of course. He's such an ugly fuckin' bastard, no wonder-

"You're beautiful, Arthur."

"Huh?" He must've misheard him.

"God, Arthur.." He spoke as if breathless, "You're so perfect." He kissed him. Slow and steady, as if trying to take in all of Arthur. As if this moment was going to end if he didnt do so. God, he hoped it'd never end. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down to his throbbing, weeping cock as he whispered bits of praise and words of affections. Arthur nearly believed it.

"Have you ever done before, Arthur?" He spoke lowly against his unclothed thighs, sending scalding reverberations across his lightly haired skin.

"Not.. Not with a man, no." He slurred, the effects of the whiskey still weighing heavily upon him, stirring his mind into a hazed blur as it rushed all the blood from there to his cock.

"You do this frequently, then? With women?"

"No, not- not in a long while now."

Arthur gazed blearily at the man whose face had been positioned between his thighs, aware of how vulnerable this position was for himself- as well as how it was so terribly tantalising.

"You," He broke the silence, "You done this before? With men?"

"Yeah. Not too often but it isn't anything too rare."

"I ain't thought you were the kind."

"What kind?"

"Y'know, the-"

"Cocksucking kind?"

Arthur flushed at his bluntness, "Well.. Yeah."

"I don't mind sucking cock. Don't mind fucking anyone with one too. As long as the holes attached to a warm body, I don't mind."

"So I'm just another warm body to you?" Arthur teased, though his heart near cracked open at the thought.

You're so much more than that, Arthur. Charles thought to himself. And his drunk self said exactly that as he pressed more kisses along his jawline, Arthur flushing at the words.

"So- how does this work? Sex with two men."

"One of 'em takes it up the ass."

Arthur's eyes went so wide, Charles feared it'd remain that way.

"And you.." Arthur muttered, "You took it up the ass before?" He asked in hopes of there being a chance he wouldn't have to take Charles's horse cock up his ass.

"Never. The other guys always just happened to want me to do them."

"Oh.." He didn't really like thinking of Charles and other men. Other people.

He opened his mouth to speak before Charles did so, "You don't have to take it up the ass. You already made me feel good, I just want to do the same, Arthur."

In truth he did want to take Arthur in the ass. He wanted to fuck the man so hard he begged for more. He wanted to fuck him into the bed. Hard enough that the rusted springs of the lumpy mattress no longer worked. He wanted the man to forget his own name and for the only thing left, engraved in his mind would be how good Charles made him feel. Oh, how he wanted to ruin the man.

The last sober part of himself had fought every other terribly, drunkenly lusted part of his body saying those few words. Though in truth he did want to pleasure Arthur. It was just that he wanted to fuck him while doing so.

"Will it hurt?" Arthur's raspy voice came.

"What?"

"If I.. took it.. there. Would it hurt?"

"Not if I do it right."

"Okay."

"Okay..?"

"Lord, Charles- Are y'gon'make me say it?"

A smile drew upon his lips, "I wasn't. But now I am."

"You're a bastard, Mr. Smith."

"Bold choice of words for the man who holds your precious orgasm in the palm of his hand."

"You make it sound like a threat. I don't need you to get me off." He spat.

"Really.." Charles leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of Arthur's ear, "You really think I can't just tie you up? Leave you here, splayed out on the bed for whoever comes next. Your lassos right on the ground, at my disposal." The words sent all the blood to his cock, it cried for release as it leaked precum upon Arthur's belly. Charles reached a hand down, rubbing a calloused thumb over the head of the cock, "You like that, Arthur? If I tied you up with your own lasso. While your cock's begging to be touched. Weeping for release. You like that? If I left you here for someone else to find. Someone else to fuck." Charles was bluffing, anyone else who tried to fuck Arthur- let alone touch him wouldn't still be alive to try anything.

"Christ, Charles." He breathed. Each word had sent a shiver that travelled down to his cock, "I want you to fuck me."

"Really. Where are your manners?"

"Please." He gritted out, "Please fuck me, Charles."

"So sweet, aren't you, Arthur?"

Arthur merely rolled his eyes in response.

Charles travelled downwards. Trailing kisses down his neck. Down his torso and up to his ass. Purposefully avoiding the man's terribly hardened cock as he whined for friction. He pressed kisses around the man's puckered hole, earning sweet, sweet moans that'd leaked out of the man's sweet, sweet lips.

Suddenly, his tongue begun to stretch the man's tight ring of muscle, earning a sharp gasp from Arthur. He was invading uncharted territory, savouring the sounds Arthur made and how beautifully his body reacted each time his tongue moved around within him.

Finally he'd pulled away, earning a loud whine from the man writhing beneath him. Grabbing the back of his knees, spreading them further open, he spat on his hole, making a mess as he coated the spit around the hole with his fingers. A finger doused in spit pressed up against his hole, "I'm putting a finger in, Arthur."

Arthur nodded before feeling something stretch him out. The burning sensation was not enough for the man to tell him to stop. It didn't hurt, but it sure as hell hadn't felt good. Why any man would willingly want this was completely unfathomable. But then- if the man was doing it with Charles Smith, he wouldn't mind.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered, pushing the digit in and out of the hole in slow, unhurried motions, taking care not to hurt the man.

Arthur hated being treated so- kindly. So properly taken care of, as if he were something fragile- something worthy of care. It made him feel so pathetic. "No. Put another finger in."

Charles merely hummed in response, slipping out the digit before swiftly pushing two fingers deep within him. Thrusting inwards and out, he kept wondering whether the men who enjoyed taking it up the ass were delusional. No way in hell could this have felt good-

Oh. Oh.

This was good.

"A-Ah.. More- there, Charles." He whined, it felt too good for him to be ashamed of the near ludicrous sounds he let out. Curling his thick fingers upwards, Charles massaged the man's sweet spot, splitting both fingers apart, scissoring him from within as he stretched him apart.

Briskly, he pulled out both fingers and pushed them back in, along with an additional digit as he spread them all out, stretching him out so well the uncomfortably pleasurable burn had morphed into a terribly intensified pleasure. He wasn't aware of the sounds he'd made, all he could focus on was how much Charles's perfect fingers stretched him out.

It wasn't enough. He wanted more.

"Fuck me Charles. P-Please, I need you."

"So polite now, Arthur.." He could hear the smile in Charles's tone as he felt him press more kisses around his collarbone.

"Please, Charles.."

"Since you asked so nicely."

He pulled his fingers out, soaked and wet with his own fluids. Swiftly, he pulled off his shirt and spat on his own cock, aligning its length in-between Arthur's flawlessly imperfect ass cheeks. It rubbed against his hole, he couldn't wait anymore- he felt so empty. So- So-

Full.

Fuck..

Charles had pushed all the way in, from the head to base, he took it all in. He forgot the girth of the man's cock, how thick and heavy it'd laid on his tongue earlier. Fuck. It stretched him out. His cock rubbed at the walls of his ass, just grazing upon his prostate. "Fuck, you're tight.." Charles groaned, placing a hand under his knee, rubbing circles upon the skin with the pad of his thumb in attempts of comfort, "Relax, love.. Just tell me to stop and I will." Arthur nodded.

Despite feeling Arthur relax around his cock, the warmth enveloping him still felt as if it was clenching around him. Threatening him to stay, restraining him from pulling out.

"I'm going to move now, Arthur." Another nod.

Slowly, he pulled out and slowly, he pushed in. Repeating these motions 'till he felt the man completely relax around him. He picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Harder. Arthur began to whine loudly. Too loud.

Charles moved his legs which had previously wrapped loosely around his hips, upwards. His shoulders just beneath Arthur's knees. The position allowed Charles to hit deeper within him. Every brutal thrust inwards inflicted such terrible abuse upon Arthur's bruised prostate. Arthur loved every bit of it.

Pushing Arthur's knees against his chest, near folding him half, he whispered to the man, "Quiet down, Arthur. We can't have people hearing your sweet noises, now can we?"

Arthur merely babbled incoherent syllables before clamping his hands over his mouth. Adorable.

He hadn't assumed Arthur to take him so literally.

"You're so beautiful, Arthur.." He repeated for likely the millionth time during their encounter. Taking in Arthur's beautifully flushed and freckled face along with his beautifully glassy eyes as tears spilled out of them. He pressed kisses along those tears, tasting the salt on his lips, "So, so beautiful.." He whispered, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck, sucking and biting at his neck, leaving bruises and marks, that he was sure wouldn't leave for at least a week.

Arthur unclasped his hands from his mouth, "Ch-Charles, I-I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead, sweetheart.." He mumbled into his skin.

Arthur's moans grew louder and far more risqué as he wrapped his arms around the back of Charles's neck. "A-Ah! More, more, Charles! Pl..ease- There! Right there!"

As his pleas grew needier, his whines grew more lubricious. His intensifying grip around his neck reminding Charles of his strength. Despite how strong the man was, he submitted so willingly to Charles. Oh, how he loves the man.

Nearing his release, he let out louder cries that practically flooded the enclosed space, he didn't bother to silence Arthur, now uncaring of the possibility of them both being hanged if someone were to discover the intimacy of the position the were in. Instead, he revelled in the sweet symphony of his whines, his cries and his moans. He relished in the scent of sweat coating Arthur's olive skin and the sweet scent of sex as he fucked faster and harder into Arthur.

Hot, white cum spurted in-between their bodies. Onto Arthur's abdomen and Charles's toned belly. Dazing through Arthur's post-orgasm haze, he didn't feel Charles stop. Instead he fucked him harder. Faster. Arthur felt like he was going to burst from such overstimulation, "C-Charles, a-ahh, stop! Stop, stop, stop please- it's, it's too much!" But he didn't stop. Instead, a hand wrapped around his worn out cock, pumping it hard as his erection reformed.

"You can take it, Arthur.. You promised to make me feel good, didn't you?" He continued fucking him, rubbing hard on the terribly sensitive crown of his cock.

"Yes- Yes, Charles.." He moaned, "A-Ahh- I can't cum no more, Charles! Please-"

"You can, love.. C'mon.."

Arthur merely whined in response, squirming powerlessly beneath him. It was all too much. Everything felt like too much. Arthur soon felt his orgasm bubbling up as Charles fisted his once-again hardened cock. Feeling Charles pounding harshly within him whilst pumping his cock was too much- He was gonna- gonna-

"I-I'm gonna cum, Arthur.." He heard the low pitch of Charles's voice.

"M-Me too." He forced out, lacking the mundane ability to string together proper sentences due to having his brains fucked out by the man above him.

He let out the loudest moan known to man. It near shook the entire saloon but he was far too fucked out to be embarrassed of the noise. The man was utterly debauched.

The warmth of Charles nearly depleted as he felt the man about to pull out before he wrapped his legs tighter around him, "Cum- inside.."

The sight of Arthur was enough to make Charles heed his plea without a thought. He hummed, fucking him harder as he chased his release.

Finally- through his own orgasm, he felt a warm, viscous liquid released inside him. It felt so good. His load felt never ending, it continued to spurt out all over his ass after Charles pulled out. Such a position should've made him feel degraded, pathetic, instead- he felt completely raptured. The feeling of Charles's semen all over him nearly made him hard again.

Staring at his own thick cum spilling out of Arthur's so very reddened and swollened asshole, the white droplets sliding the bruised skin of both his inner and outer thighs that pressed so tightly together. He couldn't help but admire the work he'd done.

His eyes trailed upwards from Arthur's terribly abused hole to his wonderfully rubescent face; taking in how his eyes brimmed with saltwater as they so gracefully fell down his rosy, freckled cheeks. As if he'd lost himself in the mere sight on Arthur. In his red, swollened lips; glistening and nitid, wet from their shared , sloppy kisses. They parted slightly, taking in shallow breaths, panting from the sex mere moments before.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" Arthur spoke, his voice raspy, never-changing.

"Like what?" Charles responded breathlessly.

"Like you wanna goddam' eat me." A chuckle from Charles.

"Maybe I do." He pushed apart Arthur's bruised thighs and leaned into him, pressing more kisses at his already purpling jaw. "Charles Smith." He whispered, his tone meaning to be teasing but coming out broken and breathy.

"Arthur Morgan." He said in response at the shell of the man's ear.

Charles rolled off of Arthur, laying at his side. "I can't believe that just happened." Charles sighed ever-so blissfully, as if all his troubles had just been washed away and the sex they just had had granted him the secrets of eternal life.

"Y'mean- the fuckin'? Or the fact that it was with a man."

"The fact that it was with you."

"Oh." Arthur's eyes began to avoid his gaze, his cheeks beginning to redden as he muttered several minor words, "I can't believe it too well either."

"Y'know.." Charles turned to him, a hand reaching out to trace his cheekbone with his knuckles, "I've been wantin' this for so long now."

"You're kiddin'"

"Not at all." He swallowed, the alcohol that continued to coarse through his veins gave him courage to utter these pathetically buried feelings. Feelings he'd never admit to if well and sober. It was now or never. "I.. I've been interested in you for a while now."

"Since Colter?"

"Since Blackwater."

"You- Charles.." He stammered, unable to find the words to say, Charles merely chuckled at his bashfulness.

"It's alright Arthur. I knew those feelings would go nowhere," He'd uttered, Arthur missed the hint of sadness within his words, "The moment I heard you speak- your quick wit as well as your sarcastic quips, they immediately charmed me. You were just so oddly charismatic, and your beauty- Arthur. Your beauty. You were breathtaking. You are breathtaking."

Arthur couldn't utter a single word, his face merely continued to overheat as his mouth stood agape. "In Colter, when Mr. Pearson asked you to go hunting with me- My heart absolutely flipped. I jumped at the chance."

"Yeah, it was weird that you wanted to help me out. Y'know 'cause o' your hand an' whatnot."

"You wanna know how I injured my hand, Arthur?"

"Been wonderin' for a while now."

"In Blackwater, durin' the heist- when you came to the boat, I saw a fella'. Probably a Pinkerton, wasn't sure. But he aimed his gun at you, I didn't think- I just put my hand at the barrel then knocked 'im out after."

A pause. His eyes traced the apple at Arthur's throat, watching how it bobbed as he swallowed. Watching how he took Charles's hand off his face and held it so very gently. Arthur Morgan. The Van der Linde gang's toughest, most intimidating member. The man he'd just fucked. That same man held him so, so softly. Tracing the grooves and bumps of his dark knuckles as well as the veins behind his terribly calloused hand. Then he spoke, looking up to reach his eyes, "Shoulda let me get shot."

Charles merely smiled, "I know. I'm a fool."

They laid beside each other, bathing it the afterglow of their previous activities. The only thing on both of their minds being the unknown mutual hope that it wouldn't be the last time they were so intimate. So Arthur broke the silence. "You tired, Charles?"

"Not.. in particular."

"Think you can go another round?"

An imperceptible smile, quirked upon Charles's lips, "I could go for several more rounds."

With those words, Arthur got up and straddled the man all in one swift motion. He leaned downwards, pressing their lips together for the millionth time.

His hands reached down to Charles's pants, "You gotta get these off though."

"No rush. We have all night.

The thought of Charles's fucking him into the mattress all the way 'till morning made his dick twitch. He kissed Charles once more, whispering through the kiss, "I wanna have our whole life."

He took a breath. "Let's have that then."

When the sun rose, casting it's amber hues across the rented lodging of their room and bathing the town with its slight warmth, Arthur's eyes fluttered open, wandering blearily around the foreign room before landing on the sleeping face of Charles.

Charles.

Charles?

He stared at the man beside him, the strong, sculpted arms wrapped around him. He couldn't move if he tried. The memories of the night before blurred through his mind, a flush crawling up his neck. Untrusting of his own intoxicated mind, he looked beneath the thin, cream blanket that barely covered them as it was clearly meant for merely a single person. As if their naked bodies pressed together and the near dried cum spilling out of his ass wasn't enough proof, the sight of Charles's bare cock underneath the blanket surely was.

Attempting to shuffle within Charles's death gripping bear hug, still processing the knowledge of getting fucked by the man the night before. Multiple times. The memory of Charles's cum in his mouth still lingered. The taste of salt and texture of slime that would've made him puke if it was anyone else but last night- was absolutely intoxicating.

With curious eyes he looked at Charles, taking in every curve and crevice on his face. Seeing things he'd never seen before. Every pore was visible, as was every spot of hair that trailed from his chin to his jaw. The memory of Charles's words to him as he laid beside him upon the white, dirtied mattress sheets made Arthur's heart absolutely dance. In truth, he'd felt the same. Ever since speaking to him at Colter, all that lingered within his mind was the faint thought of Charles. If the night before hadn't happened he'd never admit the fact he felt this way about another man. He didn't even know how he felt.

Suddenly Charles's eyes opened, blinking a few times as he looked at Arthur with half-lidded eyes. A lopsided smile bloomed upon his face, "G'morning, Arthur." He leaned nearer, pressing a kiss on his lips. The action made his heart thud so hard upon his ribcage he feared it'd explode. "Mornin'.." He forced out.

He didn't know how to act, considering the fact that they'd fucked continuously throughout dusk, passing out just before dawn. He hadn't had sex in years. Not since Eliza's death.

Charles merely continued to run a hand through Arthur's sandy, uncut locks, long overdue for a haircut. "I still can't believe last night." He heard Charles murmur.

"Neither can I."

A smile from Charles. "Thank you, Arthur." He looked at Charles, into his eyes, noticing the slightest bit a sorrow within them. As if unwillingly acceptant of the fact that last night was and inevitably would be nothing more than a one night stand. Charles parted his lips, as if wanting to say more. But the words never left those soft lips.

"What for?"

"Last night. Helping me blow off steam."

Oh.

Was that all it was to Charles? Were all the sweet nothings said the night before just a result of too much whiskey?

"Arthur?" Charles's voice, "You alright?"

Before he could stop it, the words ran out of his mouth, "I don't want last night to be the last."

"What?"

"I-" Fuck. He'd already said all that. Might as well. "I wanna do it again. With you. "

"Right now?"

"No- Charles. I mean-" He was never one for words. He wasn't even that good at English himself. "Arthur."

He looked up. Charles smiled.

He spoke.

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Arthur had never been the emotional kind but fuck. The knowledge that it wouldn't be the end made him near tear up. Or maybe getting fucked in the ass had shredded up his masculinity.

Nah.

"Yeah." Charles couldn't stop smiling. Fuck, the man was handsome.

"But- ignoring what I just said, you ain't too tired for another fuck, are you?"

Charles only laughed, crawling on top of Arthur and smashing their lips together through the laughter that bubbled throughout.

[sometranssoup]

Headcanons I need to tell people before I explode (mainly dale)

As a kid,Bug was away a lot and Dale's mom was always working,with her friends or just 'too busy',so,dale would often feed himself. The fact that he ate mainly junk food or just straight up nothing (or bugs...canonically) until he started eating at Tilly's house and a fast metabolism along with smoking made him incredibly small and thin as a kid. Smoking also stunted his growth (fight me,I will die on short King dale hill)

He played baseball/T-ball growing up.

Only candy he would eat was babe Ruth's bc he thought he was supporting the baseball player

Used to spend a lot of time at the library if he wasn't with Hank, bill and Boomhauer.

When he,Hank,Bill and Boomhauer would go fishing,he'd always quit fishing early to wrestle or run around with Bill while Hank and Boomhauer fished.

Started smoking bc he wanted his parents to find out and scold him.

He,Hank,Bill and Boomhauer always liked hanging out at Boomhauers house because his parents were really nice. They never hung out at Hanks bc of Cotton.

Dale never had anyone over often because his mom was a bit of a hoarder.

Dale tried helping Hank and Bill up over a fence once and broke his arm.

Lots of internalized homophobia and transphobia on Dale and Hanks ends

Dale has a much older sister who worked at an ice cream shop. She got two free scoops per shift so Dale would bring Hank,Bill and Boomhauer by to split the scoops since she got sick of ice cream quick.

Dale and Hank both have these really similar stories from summer camp. They both had secret boyfriends. They both talked via letters left under a tree. They was supposed to meet to carve their initials in the tree but Dale had an accident and had to go home early. Somewhere out there is a tree with D+H in a heart.

Dale had a terrible bed wetting problem and would cry every single time it happened (totally not projecting here)

Dale didn't learn how to talk until he was about five.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

New Year's Eve Kisses 2023

Note: Well, here we are again, my four year drabble streak. I’m really excited about the group this year! As a heads-up, I have not seen any of the One Piece Anime, just the live action, so I’ll be using that information for Zoro. Also, I am writing quite a few of these characters for the first time, so let me know how I did hahaha. Also, I believe reader is gender neutral in all of these <3

Fandoms: One Piece (Live Action), The Barbie Movie, DCEU, X-Men, Ghosts US

Total Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Some violence, lots of smooches, mentions of death bc ghosts lol

Roronoa Zoro

Word Count: 1.1k

Luffy had insisted the crew dock the ship in the nearest port for the night. Your small, noble, six-man crew. You were the newest member, still learning your place and doing your best to earn your keep. Not that that mattered to the captain. Luffy believed in every person he met. He was perhaps the most hopeful, optimistic person you’d ever come across in your life. It was endearing.

You were a writer, a researcher, an inventor by some meanings of the word. You didn’t have a lot of fighting skills, but you made up for it with your knowledge and trading skills. The other pirates you came across were always low on fruit, but due to your skills in botany, the ship now had a garden with several fruit trees, herb shrubs, and some vegetable plants. You filtered water for drinking and for watering them, and therefore, you always had fresh food to eat, and plenty of surplus to trade with other crews.

You’d earned them a small fortune in other words.

At the moment, you were hunched over your desk, screwing a piece into place for a weapon you were making for Usopp, an automatic rock launcher. You hoped it would be a nice alternative to his slingshot.

Someone cleared their throat and you whipped around, pulling your goggles onto your head to find Zoro standing there, a hand resting on his belt, where his three swords were nestled. “We’re headed ashore. Captain’s orders.”

“Oh! Okay.” You took off your work gloves and hung your goggles on their hook, moving carefully in rhythm with the boat rocking. Sea legs were still something you were working on, but you liked to think you were getting better at it. “Any reason in particular?”

“The new year.”

“Right, right. Guess I forgot how long I was cooped up in here. I’ll uh…” you glanced down at your attire, your overalls covered in dirt and oil. Probably not acceptable attire for a New Year’s Eve bash. “I’ll get changed.”

“Great.” Zoro nodded and left and you stared at the empty doorway. Of all your crewmates, he was the one you hadn’t gotten a read on. He was fiercely loyal, but pretty quiet most of the time. He did have a bit of snark in him, though. He often found himself at odds with Sanji, which you found endlessly amusing.

You flipped through your closet and found something a little nicer, a gift from Kaya, Usopp’s best friend. The crew visited her every so often, and you’d gifted her a kaleidoscope. In return, she’d given you several gifts, the outfit you were wearing currently included.

Satisfied, you turned and walked up onto the deck, where the others stood, dressed in their finest. When you looked off the deck, you were anchored, sure enough, at the Baratie. Sanji looked happy to be there.

“Wow! You look great, (Y/N)!” Luffy complimented, smiling warmly.

“Thanks! So do you.” You replied, looking at the others. You caught the way Zoro’s eyes lingered on you as you passed, following the others off of the ship and out to the bar of the restaurant, which was absolutely bustling with visitors from all over the East Blue.

“What do you want to drink?” Zoro asked, closer to you than you’d realized.

“Champagne is on the house, tonight.” Sanji piped up with a wink.

“I’m down for some champagne.” You said with a nod.

“I’ll be right back.” Zoro turned, flagging the nearest waiter and coming back with two flutes of champagne.

You took a long first sip of the sweet, sparkling drink. “Thanks, Zoro.”

“Of course.” He replied. It was surprising. You were pretty sure these were the most words you’d ever exchanged with him, but…it was a welcome change.

One glass of champagne snowballed into two or three, and before you knew it, you were dancing to the music the band was playing, bobbing along to the beat beside Usopp and Nami. In the corner of the room, Zoro was nursing a glass of something stronger than champagne. When the song ended, you walked over to him.

He met your eyes, but didn’t shoo you away. Instead, he moved over so you could lean against the wall beside him. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am having fun.” You grinned, cheeks flushed, breaths shortened. “Are you?”

“I’m having fun watching you have fun.”

“What, you don’t dance?”

“Not usually.” He grinned, sipping his beer. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m…glad we stopped on Butterfly Island that day.”

“You mean it?”

Zoro nodded. “I know we don’t talk a lot, but…I’d like to change that next year.”

“I’m your resolution?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’d like that, too.” You smiled.

A few hours and another glass of champagne later, the countdown to midnight had begun, and you found yourself dangerously close to a pirate from another ship, who was looking at you like a meal.

“Ahoy there, haven’t seen you around, before.” He eyed you up and down with his one good eye, the other covered with a patch.

“Haven’t been paying enough attention to the bulletin boards, then.” You commented, trying to sneak past. “If you’ll excuse me—”

He grabbed your arm. “Ye don’t happen to have someone you’re looking for, do ye? I’d hate for you to spend midnight alone…”

“I’m fine, thank you.” You tugged your arm away, or tried to, but his grip tightened.

You heard the sound of metal and looked up to find Zoro, sword unsheathed, eyes the darkest you’d ever seen them.

“Let go of them or lose your hand. Up to you.” Zoro growled.

The pirate let go of you and scurried away, murmuring something about Zoro’s green hair.

You exhaled a sigh and took a step closer to him, the tension rolling out of your shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for the bare minimum. That guy was a creep.” He said, eyes lingering on the vile man’s figure as he retreated to the far corner of the room.

As the countdown narrowed, Zoro took a step closer, eyes fluttering shut as he looked at you. And there he froze, waiting for you to do something. And so when midnight hit, you did, carefully reaching for his jaw and pulling him closer.

Fireworks hit as he kissed you, lips confident and sure. When you pulled apart, the energy between you swirled, his nose lingering against yours, eyes searching yours for some hint that this was real, that it wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

So, to be sure, he leaned in and kissed you again.

Barbara “Barbie” Handler

Word Count: 0.5k

To say that Barbie was nervous was the understatement of the century. She hadn’t been nervous when she set out for the human world. She had the encouragement of her fellow Barbies then. But walking into the New Year’s Eve party she was currently attending with Gloria and her husband, she was so nervous. She found herself adjusting her hair, constantly checking her dress.

If there was anything she had learned in her time living in California, it was that being a human woman was harder than it looked.

“It’ll be fun, Barbie. I promise.” Gloria said, eyes warm, truthfilled. She knew her friend was right. It would be fun.

They got out of the car and walked into the large house together. The music was loud, there were refreshments and drinks on nearly every surface, and all over the walls, there were silver and gold decorations.

She wandered in further, taking a glass of champagne from Gloria and sipping it cautiously. It was sweet, bubbling, with a sharp edge of something she didn’t recognize. Alcohol, probably, she deduced. Barbie sampled a few of the treats and then her eyes fell on a pretty stranger in the corner of the room, all alone.

She walked over, armed with a smile. “Hi, Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year!” You replied, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Barbara.” She introduced, offering a polite hand that you shook with a smile. “I’m new around here, so Gloria brought me.”

“Oh, Gloria! I used to babysit her daughter before I went off to college. And now she’s all grown up.”

“Do you babysit often?”

You laughed. “Oh, no, it’s been a while. I work at a law firm now.”

“That is so incredible! Do you like it there?”

“It’s great, yeah.” You nodded. “What do you do?”

“I’m between jobs, right now.” Barbie shrugged. “But I think I might go back to school, try to figure things out.”

“That’s great, Barbara, I hope that goes well for you.” You smiled.

She paused, hesitating before saying, “You can call be Barbie, if you’d like.”

“Alright, Barbie.” You grinned. “You know, I loved Barbies as a kid.”

“You did? Which ones?” She asked, smiling brighter than the sun.

The two of you settled onto a couch together, side by side, talking and talking and talking until midnight. And when the ball dropped, the rest of the party guests paired up, partaking in the yearly tradition of the New Year’s Eve Kiss.

“Woah, what are they doing?” Barbie asked, looking around.

“Oh, it’s a New Year’s Eve kiss. People believe kissing someone at midnight will bring them good luck in the new year.”

“Oh!” Barbie nodded. She looked at you for a moment, blue eyes wide before asking, politely, “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled and nodded. “Absolutely.”

You knew you had just met her, but you could tell then and there that there was something special about Barbie. And when her soft, pink lips finally met yours, it was nothing short of magic.

Jaime Reyes

Word Count: 0.7k

You straightened out your clothes, tugging the wrinkles out of the fabric. You did a once-over in your phone camera, making sure everything looked just right. Someone whistled, drawing your attention. Jaime. Of course. Your flirtatious teammate and fellow Justice League member. You and him had a will-they-won’t-they going on that had started the first day you joined the team. He was determined to win you over and you were determined to not let him in.

But hey, it was New Year’s Eve. Anything can happen on New Year’s Eve. Maybe that was the reason Bruce had insisted the entire team attend his yearly charity gala. He’d even sent you the clothes and everything.

“What, Reyes?”

“Nothing. You…clean up nice.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

It was true. He was dressed up in a crisp black suit, the royal blue tie hanging from his neck, untied. He offered the ends to you. “Do you mind?”

“Come here.” You motioned him closer, taking the ends of the tie and carefully twisting it into the proper shape, gently tightening the knot.

His eyes fell on you, soft and warm, the end of his lip quirked up into a smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Literally don’t. I don’t think Arthur would let you hear the end of it if he knew you didn’t know how to tie a tie.”

“Who says I don’t?” He winked, turning on his heel and exiting the room, to leave you with your thoughts and flushed cheeks.

***

At the party, you stood beside Victor at the edge of the room. He had a projector going, projecting a human form onto his body. It was pretty convincing, you had to admit, so long as no one touched him and felt the metal, that was. Arthur was already about twelve drinks deep, tearing up the dance floor. Diana was mingling, looking graceful and beautiful, as always.

Clark was there, talking to the guests as well, no doubt getting the inside scoop for his next article. Bruce floated around, entertaining and playing up the billionaire façade. Well, the money part wasn’t a façade. The attitude was, however.

And then there was you, sipping from a glass of champagne, surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edge of your mind.

“Incoming, ten o’clock.” Victor murmured, patting your shoulder and promptly bailing.

Great. Figured.

Jaime strolled up, looking as confident as ever. He offered his arm, tilting his head towards the dancefloor. You rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your champagne before taking his hand and letting him whisk you into the crowd of dancing guests.

It was familiar, in a way. It felt right, despite the way you protested. Maybe you were just afraid of getting hurt. But you knew the way he looked at you, the way he protected you in fights and went out of his way to make you happy when you were feeling down…he was the real deal. He always had been.

Now it was up to you to let him in.

Jaime spun you around, pulling you close to him. Your hand rested on his chest and you could feel the way his heart was absolutely hammering in his chest.

“Do I make you nervous?” You whispered, relishing in the way his eyes flashed when you did.

“Of course you do, looking like that, looking at me with those eyes.”

“What eyes?” You asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He chuckled. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Do you think…after the holidays, maybe you’d want to…go see a movie together or something?” He asked, waiting in anticipation.

“Yeah, I’d really like that, Jaime. I never thought you’d ask.”

“I never thought you’d say yes.” He admitted.

“Well, I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?”

He grinned. “Seems like it.”

The party came to a crescendo as the clock neared midnight, and you didn’t leave Jaime’s side, arm looped through his. He kept looking down at you like he expected it to be a vision, a trick of the mind from one of Bruce’s many adversaries. But it was real. You were real. You were into him, and, it had taken you long enough to realize it, but…maybe, just maybe, you two could make it work.

Time would tell, but you had more pressing matters at hand. Namely, Jaime pressing his lips to yours as midnight struck and both of your lives changed for the better.

Hank McCoy

Word Count: 1.1k

There was nothing quite like a mission the day before New Year’s Eve. You were suited up, leg bouncing as the jet neared your target, the facility where you were pretty sure they had taken Hank. “They” being the US government, of course. Figured. You didn’t know the details, but you were sure it had something to do with his true form.

Most of them saw Hank as some monster. A Beast. But he wasn’t, not to you. He was perfect to you, whether he saw that or not, blue or otherwise.

“You alright there, Professor (L/N)?” Peter asked, watching as orange light danced around your fingertips.

“I will be once he’s safe.”

“He’ll be fine.” Jean insisted, pressing a pair of fingers to her temples. She was, as Charles insisted, your brightest student. And you hoped she was right this time, like she had been every other time. “I’m picking him up. That building down there.” Jean pointed at a large, metal warehouse that looked empty. Looked being the keyword.

Moira landed the jet and Peter rushed out first, running straight to the doors and unlocking them with a flurry of fingers. The rest of you followed, and as soon as he got the doors open, you sprinted inside, power radiating around your fingers as you looked around. There were several scientists in lab coats and goggles, tables and tables with mutants strapped to them, and on the wall, several of them held in place with cuffs.

You could spot Hank’s blue fur a mile away. There were two scientists near him, discussing a plan between them.

“He’s a monster, just do what you have to do.” One scientist said, making your blood boil while the other prepared a syringe.

You made a beeline straight to him, using your power to lift the scientist about to prod him with a needle, tossing her against the nearest wall with a loud clang. You faced the other one, fire in your eyes. “He’s not the monster. You are.”

A blast of power shot from the palm of your hand, sending the second scientist after the other one.

“(Y/N)…” Hank murmured, eyelids heavy. “You came. I…I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Of course I did.” You whispered, walking closer and using your power to unlock the cuffs holding his ankles and wrists. It sickened you to see him strung up like that, like some dangerous animal.

As soon as he was free, he slumped into your arms, barely able to keep himself upright. You supported his weight, pulling his arm around you and using your free arm to blast anyone who got too close. You watched as one by one, Peter freed the rest of the room. Jean fought off some scientists as you helped Hank to the exit and onto the jet.

You all but collapsed into the seat next to his, dozens of newly rescued mutants murmuring amongst themselves as Peter sped inside, raising his goggles up onto the top of his head.

He ran a quick head count. “That’s everyone, Moira.”

“Alright, hang on everyone.” Moira warned as she pulled the thrusters, sending the jet into motion back towards the Academy.

Hank tiredly reached a clawed hand for yours, fur thick and blue and soft. You took his hand gladly, meeting his exhausted eyes.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, worried. You had no idea what he’d been through in the few days they’d had him there.

“I am now.” He nodded and rested his head against your shoulder, his eyes drifting shut.

***

The next day, you were in the kitchen around noon, making yourself a London Fog. You hopped up onto the counter, sipping on it and scanning over the news. Hank wandered in, not long after, looking uncharacteristically blue. Usually, he always took his “medication” as he called it, the chemical he made to keep him, well, not blue.

It was a welcome change, though. You liked him like this. You liked him, period, no matter what he looked like.

“Hey.” You grinned, setting down the news.

“Morning.” He murmured, voice deeper than usual. He glanced at the clock. “Afternoon, I guess.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m still so wiped out.”

“I bet.” You pouted, tilting your head. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, I guess. Decided not to take my meds for a while, try to flush out everything they gave me out of my system.”

“Smart.” You nodded. “You going to Charles’ party tonight.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.” Hank chuckled sheepishly. “I’m not sure I have any suits that fit when I’m…like this.”

“Mmm.” You nodded. “Well, if you don’t want to go, we could just watch a movie or something. I can smuggle us food.”

“I appreciate it.” He grinned a fanged grin. “Hey, um…thanks. For yesterday. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Hank. I’m sure at some point you’ll be rescuing me from the government.”

He shook his head, eyes sincere. “I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

Your heart raced as he took a few steps closer, a blue hand settling beside your leg on the counter, the other raising to graze the edge of your cheek. He stared into your eyes like they were star-filled skies and he was searching for constellations.

You reached forward, pulling him into a hug that he quickly reciprocated, holding you close. “I-I was so scared, Hank. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“I’m alright. I’m right here.” His paw stroking your hair gently. “Let’s…watch a movie tonight. You can pick. I’ll order a pizza and bring the drinks.”

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, thriving in his warmth. He was so warm like this. You loved it even more than you remembered. “Sounds good to me.”

***

It was around ten that Hank knocked on the door of your room. You opened the door and let him in, a stack of VHS tapes sitting on the coffee table. He saw them and chuckled. “I thought I said you could pick.”

“Yeah, well, I’m indecisive so would you like Back to the Future or Rudolph’s Shiny New Year?”

“I think I’ll have to go with Rudolph, personally. Seems festive.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” You nodded, popping in the tape and settling down on the couch just as he did, a bottle of wine and two empty glasses set on the coffee table alongside a box of pizza.

You curled your legs against his, resting your head on his shoulder as he rested his head on yours, exhaling a long sigh. You were so relieved that he was okay, that he was with you.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Funny, I was going to say the same about you.” You murmured, leaning further into his hold.

The two of you watched the movie together, wrapped in each others’ arms. And when midnight hit, it only made sense that the only person you were kissing was him.

Sasappis

Word Count: 1.0k

Sasappis remembered the first words you had said to them like you’d said them yesterday. You were Sam’s niece, the black sheep of the family due to your more spiritual path. Well, that was, until Sam started seeing literal spirits. You had the same gift. Of course, yours wasn’t due to a freak accident, but rather, something you were born with, an extra sense that made most people look at you like you were crazy.

That first day in the mansion, you’d gotten your bag to your room, started unpacking, and then slowly turned to face the corner he was lingering in and said, “So are you just gonna stand there and stare at me or…?”

His eyes had widened, staring at you even more intensely. He was caught off guard. You weren’t a ghost, you couldn’t be. Jay could see you, after all, but still, you were making eye contact with him, waiting for a response.

“Hello?”

“You can see me?”

“Obviously. Did Sam tell you guys nothing about me? You guys are the reason I’m here, after all.” You chuckled.

“We are?”

“Yeah, my aunt starts seeing ghosts her husband can’t…she needed some confirmation that she wasn’t losing her marbles. I’m the confirmation. Besides, I needed somewhere quiet to come write my novel.”

Oh that piqued his interest. “You’re a writer?”

“Yeah, I guess our sixth sense isn’t the only thing Sam and I have in common. She’s more of a journalist, though. I write fiction.”

He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, beyond ready to learn more. “What genre?”

And you had gotten along perfectly ever since. The other ghosts in the house enjoyed having you around, too. It was nice having yet another human that could see them. You introduced them to all kinds of shows, helped with their tasks and physical limitations, and, most importantly, made quite a bit of frozen pizza when Jay and Sam went out for date night.

When the holidays rolled around, Sasappis expected you to leave, but he was relieved that you stuck around. He couldn’t imagine celebrating without you there. And when New Year’s Eve rolled around, all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you. But he couldn’t. Obviously. That was what he got for falling in love with someone who was still alive.

“Sasappis!” You called into the house, and he came running towards your room, Trevor just behind him. “I said Sasappis, not Trevor.”

Trevor cursed and then shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

“What’s going on? Everything alright? You need help with another spider?”

You chuckled and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. You remember how I said I didn’t have time to get Christmas presents this year?”

“Yeah, and we all understood because you’re really busy and have your own things to do?”

“Yeah, of course, thank you. Well, I kind of lied. I got a present, but…it’s just for you and it’s kind of experimental…”

His eyebrows knit together, watching you. “What are you talking about?”

“So…” You watched the time on your watch, waiting for exactly nine thirty. As soon as it hit, you reached out your hand for him, a small thing clutched in your hand. It took him a second, but he reached out for it, holding open his hand, but expecting whatever it was to fall right through his hand, as everything did.

But when you let go of it, it landed in his hand, a small necklace, a metal locket on a silver chain. He stared at it for a long time before making eye contact with you.

“What is it?”

“It’s a visitation charm. In theory, it allows a spirit to visit the world of the living for three hours. And I didn’t think it would work…until now.”

“You mean…” He stared at you, waiting for you to say it.

“Put it on.” You encouraged, and he lifted the chain over his head, letting it settle against his clothes. You held out your hand and he put his in yours, skin on skin, warm on warm.

“Woah…” He murmured, feeling the skin of your palm.

“HOLY SHIT DID (Y/N) DIE?” Trevor shouted from the doorway, sending Sam running down the hall to see what was going on, Jay right behind her.

“Who are you?” Jay asked, locking eyes with Sasappis. “Wait, Sass? Is that you? Oh my god!”

“You can see him?” Sam asked. “What did you do?”

“I can explain, but he’s got three hours before it’ll wear off.” You told her.

Sasappis slipped his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. Now that he could touch you finally, he never wanted to stop.

***

Midnight approached. The ghosts were all excitedly asking when you would have more charms available while Sasappis was enjoying a slice of pepperoni pizza, followed by every modern beverage he could get his hands on in such short notice.

When the countdown came to an end, Sass didn’t hesitate to kiss you, lips soft and sweet, if not a little inexperienced. You didn’t care. You looped an arm around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him back. It was an odd experience, tickling the Veil in such a way, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that he had been dead for five centuries. You didn’t care that this second life was temporary. For that moment, he was yours and nothing else mattered.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” Sasappis whispered, forehead resting against yours.

“I don’t know, I’ve been working on that for like a month just so we could do this, so…” You shrugged. “It’s reciprocated.”

His gaze softened. “Do you think this will ever happen again, or…or is this the last time this will work?”

“I’m not sure, but…I’ll make you another one and we can go from there.”

He nodded. “That’s a good plan. But whether or not we’re on the same plane of existence…I really like you (Y/N). I’m glad you came here and…I hope you’ll stay a while.”

You kissed him again, a hand framing his cheek. “Believe me, Sass, I don’t have plans to leave anytime soon.”

[crossover-enthusiast]

I blame you for reminding me I did that idea of the monster town AU, I have to give you my own ideas now.

Michelle: A skinwalker and the first monster Maurice met when he arrived in town (at first he thought she was human), Michelle made him think she would help him find a way out but uhh. Then she tried to eat him. Luckily for him,Ivan managed to save him just in time.

Carmen: A giant who proclaimed herself queen of the town's mountains. Everyone who lives on her land is practically her slave and those who disobey her will end up under her heels.

Streber: HE'S NOT A VAMPIRE >:), I still don't know what he could be but definitely not a vampire.

Radford: A sleep paralysis demon, He can only communicate with people while they are sleeping and can create nightmares when he manages to possess someone. He is not particularly aggressive but he and his nightmares have been a nuisance to Ivan for years.

Thats it for now :)

OOOOO THESE ARE SO COOL

I think I love skinwalker Michelle in particular because that is just so fucked up it's great

Sleep paralysis demon Rad too!! Hell yes!! That's SO unique. I feel like the nightmares he inflicts onto Ivan are based on movie plots- he's still Radford after all. If he can't watch movies anymore he'll just reenact them with Ivan as his unwitting lead!

Also Streber not being a vampire is funny. Rip bozo /silly Maybe he could be a robot?

Also wanted to add onto this-

Zombie Kevin is hilarious, yes. Sometimes he just falls apart but can easily put himself back together like a lego- however unlike Skid he needs to "manually" reassemble and the only thing that really moves when detached is his head (for obvious reasons), so it's harder for him to find his body parts. One time he lost his bottom jaw for a few days and it was torture

Also I had more monster ideas here you go:

Evermore: gorgon/Medusa type beat, he has a bunch of little snakes and then one big "ruler" snake in place of that bump of hair. Unlike a regular gorgon (or perhaps because of the nature of the town), the petrification from looking into his eyes isn't permanent and wears off after about a day. This has caused Evermore to stone himself multiple times because he keeps trying to look at himself in the mirror. Garcia finds it funny

Speaking of, Garcia! Not quite sure what to do with him, but my current thought is him and Mr. Clown are in a Jekyll and Hyde situation; Garcia is technically still human, but Mr. Clown very much Isn't. He runs on toon logic and wants to beat everyone -- and I mean everyone -- to death with a hammer. When they switch seems to be random, or at least as far as Garcia can tell

Lucky: living scarecrow. He got hung up in the center of town and can't get himself down, so he's just Stuck for a long while. Ivan had always assumed it was a trap and so left him there even if he felt bad about it, and it's not until Maurice shows up and Lucky's able to convince him to help that he actually gets down. On the brightside of Lucky's predicament, being in the center of town means that Lucky's heard a Lot of things and knows way more than he should

Morgana (I am including her as well bc Yes): living doll. She's made voodoo dolls of everyone in town and they actually work as long as she has something from them. She mostly just uses them to fuck with people tho

Also, take a Bonus Thought about the tree entity: she's a woman by the name of Teresa that's been here even longer than Ivan, however when she first came into town she was attacked and ran into the woods. She has stayed there ever since and is Not Doing Good