#Back to cleaning and painting glass jars

[ghostiebloo]

Okay so can I just say that I hate that when people make a painting they have to do so much explaining of the meaning behind every brush stroke and color choices. Like fr I made a painting for an art gallery for alumni at my college and I know for a fact people are gonna ask me for some deep reasoning.

Sleep deprivation and rice is the only answer I always can think of when I consider what questions will come my way.

[heartsandhischier]

"You slept with who?"

nico hischier x reader

summary - 1.5k words. trying to escape an awkward encounter after a one night stand, emphasise on trying

author's note - in my head nico is such a sweetheart no matter the situation, and NO ONE can tell me otherwise. i will protect this man with my life!

warnings - slight reference to the devils tango (ig), swearing

As the morning sun tiptoed through the parted curtains, it painted the room in a soft glow, awaking you from a restless slumber. A throbbing headache served as your unwelcome alarm, joining forces with the sunlight to assault your senses. You pulled the covers over your head, seeking refuge from the discomfort, suddenly hit by an unfamiliar scent – cologne. With a jolt, you sat up, struggling to pry your heavy eyelids apart as you looked around the room. This wasn’t your bedroom.

Where the fuck am I?

Alone in the unfamiliar bed, you took a moment, attempting to piece together the puzzle of your surroundings. The room was clean, neat, the owner clearly a tidy person. Despite the overall cleanliness, scattered trinkets and personal belongings were scattered along the space, giving it a sense of lived-in comfort – a curated chaos. 

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze fell upon the floor, a scattered array of clothing formed a path from the bedroom door to the bed. With a hesitant rise from the mattress, a sudden realization washed over you – you were completely naked.

Remnants of the previous streamed through your mind. Recollections of hitting the club with your girlfriends flooded back, the taste of margaritas still lingering on your lips. The thumping bass and flashing lights of the club replayed in your mind, each memory accompanied by the relentless pounding in your head.

As your feet met the floor, your head pulsed with every beat, you had to get out of here. This wasn’t your typical scene – you weren’t accustomed to waking up in unfamiliar beds after nights of festivities. And when these rare occurrences did happen, you never stayed long, avoiding any potential awkward encounters with one-night stands. Hastily you collected your belongings, attempting to look just a bit more presentable as you assessed your disheveled reflection in the full-length mirror. Panic set in as you realized your heels were missing – likely abandoned somewhere in the entrance hallway.

You peeked your head past the bedroom door, checking if the coast was clear. No one in sight. You kept your head low as you tiptoed along the corridor. Your heart raced with each step, the uncertainty of encountering the apartment’s owner weighing down on your consciousness. Lost in your haste, a collision abruptly halted your escape.

Fuck

As water splattered and your belongings scattered across the floor, the jarring sound of shattering glass pierced your ears. Before your bare feet could melt into the broken shards, a pair of strong arms caught you, preventing a painful misstep. A heavy silence settled over the room as you couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of the stranger. “Are you okay?” His voice was thick with an accent you couldn’t quite pinpoint, breaking through the tension. Unable to muster a response, you offered a timid apology, keeping your eyes trained on the floor as you began to gather your scattered belongings. Finally standing upright, you mustered the strength to meet the stranger’s gaze. Warm brown eyes met yours, framed by a freshly-trimmed beard and tousled brown locks – a picture of effortless charm, even in the disarray of early morning wakefulness.

You were lost in his eyes for a moment. He must have noticed as he let out a small chuckle, “I’m sorry for ruining your escape. I was just trying to get you a glass of water.” he explained with a soft smile, gesturing toward the now-spilled contents polled on the floor amidst the shattered glass. 

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you watched him bend down to collect the scattered glass. It seemed like a series of unfortunate events had led you to this moment – waking up in a stranger’s apartment, breaking a glass meant for you during your escape, and now, standing awkwardly as he cleaned up your mess. What made it even worse was that you didn’t even know his name. 

An uneasy silence hung in the air as he continued to tidy up. "So... last night was fun?" his smile genuine despite the situation. You could only manage a sheepish smile and a polite nod in response, feeling utterly mortified. He chuckled at your response, tossing the broken glass into the trash.

Once he finished cleaning up, he approached you again with a fresh glass of water in hand. Dressed in a black t-shirt neatly tucked into a pair of gym shorts, you couldn’t help but notice the definition of his muscles peeking through the fabric. You politely accepted the glass of water with trembling hands. Taking a hesitant sip, the cool water provided some relief to your throbbing headache.

His laughter broke through the tension as he observed your state. “You don’t remember my name, do you?” he teased, causing your cheeks to flush even deeper. You stammered out an awkward apology, feeling like you couldn’t sink any lower in embarrassment. 

“It’s alright, happens to the best of us,” he reassured you, his voice gentle and understanding. “Since it seems we’re both in need of a little memory jog, how about we start fresh? Hi I’m Nico,” he introduced himself with a mock bow. 

You felt a smile tug at your lips, appreciating Nico’s effort to lighten the mood – definitely not the reaction you’d expected after the awkwardness of being caught trying to escape his apartment. “Nice to meet you Nico, I am Y/N,” you gave him a small courtesy, mirroring his playfulness. His laughter was infectious, melting away the tension that had gripped you moments before. It was amazing how quickly his easygoing demeanor put you at ease.

“I would’ve offered you breakfast, but I have to head out to practice,” Nico explained with a smile, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. “Early morning practice after a night out, wow, you’re a fighter,” you teased, genuinely impressed by his dedication given your own current state. 

"Well, gotta do what you gotta do when you're captain," he replied with a grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "But I can offer you a ride home on the way.”

-

“YOU SLEPT WITH NICO HISCHIER?!” Sarah’s voice was a mixture of shock and excitement, drawing the attention of nearby patrons in the cafe. You hastily gestured for her to lower her voice, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

Sarah’s hand shot to her mouth covering it, quickly scanning her surroundings she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You slept with Nico Hischier!?” her eyes were wide with excitement, barely able to contain herself.

“I didn’t know!” you chuckled, shrugging in amusement. “Yeah, that’s because you’re boring and don’t watch sports!” Sarah teased. “He’s literally the captain of the New Jersey Devils!” Sarah exclaimed, her arms waving around excitedly. 

“How was it? Was it good?” Sarah fired off questions, her curiosity barely giving you enough time to answer. You laughed, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire interrogation. “You tell me,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. “I don’t remember, I mean, I didn’t even remember his name!”

Sarah’s eyes widened in realization. “You have to meet him again,” she urged, the sudden weight of missed opportunity sinking in. You groaned – you didn’t get his number. With a defeated sigh, you explained the predicament to Sarah.

“We’ll just have to go back to the club. tonight. “

-

The club pulsed with energy, red lights casting an enticing glow over the throngs of dancing bodies. Sarah and the girls were lost in the music, their laughter mingling with the bass thumping through the air. Despite their best efforts to drag you to the dancefloor, your attention remained divided, your gaze drifting to the entrance in hopes of spotting those familiar brown eyes.

It was a long shot, you knew, but it was worth trying. Why hadn’t you thought of exchanging numbers? You sighed, taking a sip of your amaretto sour. Amidst the chaos of the club, your purse buzzed incessantly, drawing you out of your thoughts. Fishing out your phone, you were met with an unknown number flashing on the screen. Normally, you wouldn't answer such calls, but tonight, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your veins, you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you shouted into the phone, hoping to be heard above the chaos of the club.

“I can see you're looking for me,” the voice on the other end replied, laced with the same thick accent. Your head snapped up, scanning the club for the source of the voice. And there he was, standing by a table surrounded by a group of guys you could only make out to be his teammates. His warm brown eyes locked onto yours, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gave you a small wave. A surge of relief and excitement washed over you as you realized you hadn’t lost your chance after all. You couldn’t help but smile, you probably exchanged numbers during your drunken encounter, lucky for you. 

With a grin plastered on your face, you made your way through the pulsating crowd. The warmth of his presence drawing you closer, as the pulsating rhythm of the club faded into the background.

“Hey stranger,” you playfully smiled. “Ready for round two?”

[astraystayyh]

If the world was ending

Felix x reader. Estranged childhood best friends to lovers. Angst and happy ending. highly recommend listening to If the world was ending while reading :)

Felix has always been there with you, from the moment you've met him when you were 8 years old, until he suddenly no longer was, and you were left to grapple with the consequences of his absence- and those of his return.

cw: description of a car accident, reader has a fear of loud noises.

skz song series masterlist

12 march 2011 

Screeching brakes, a jarring collision, glass shattering all around you, shards of it embedding into your tender skin. You are too young to understand it all, but you know it's bad. You are suddenly upside down, the only thing helping you stay put is the seatbelt fastened around you. You didn't really like seatbelts but your mom always insisted on you wearing one.

Your mom, you can't see her face, she's upside down too, and she isn't talking. That's unusual because you're crying and she isn't turning around to comfort you. Someone is screaming outside of your car, and then you are pulled out. You don't know who's touching you, and you want them to stop. Where is your mom? Why did they not pull her out too?

An ambulance approaches you; its loud sirens feel like pine needles drilling into your skull. You try to cover your ears but your hands are covered in blood. The world around you is painted red- the flashing lights of the sirens and the liquid oozing from your cuts. It’s no longer your favorite color.

27 may 2011 

You are playing in the playground near your home, waving at your mom from the top of the slide. She's gotten better, she smiles more easily at you now. And you are trying to be a good kid too; you help wash the dishes and you clean your room all by yourself. You don't want your mom to feel sad again and go back to that dreaded hospital. 

You slide out, happy giggles leaving your mouth, before climbing up the tiny stairs once again. But as you reach the top, an ambulance rushes by the playground. You don't know what's happening, but you suddenly feel shards of glass on your skin once again. Your hands are shaking as you sit on the floor, curling around yourself in a ball.  

"What's wrong?" someone asks and you lift your head tentatively. It's a young boy, he's looking at you worriedly, a tiny pout on his lips. 

"I don't like ambulances," you hiccup, burying your head in your knees again. 

Suddenly, small hands cover your ears, muffling the shrill sound of sirens. They are warm and sticky from the red popsicle he’s still holding.

"Now you can't hear them," he giggles, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents. Despite your raging fear, a smile finds its way into your lips.

"What's those on your face," you ask with a small voice, pointing at the faint marks dusting his cheeks. 

"They're called freckles," he says proudly and you nod. 

"They're pretty."

"Thank you!" he grins at you, his hands still covering your ears. The tightness in your chest seems to dissipate slowly before his kind smile- the shadows never stood a chance in front of the sun. 

"What's your name?" 

"Felix. And you?"

"Yn." 

"We should be friends," he beams and you grin back, agreeing wholeheartedly. "We should." 

15 november 2021 

You are sitting on the grass of that very same playground, Felix still by your side. The night breeze is cooling as it brushes against your bodies, and you're wearing his red sweater. It smells like his cologne and your perfume- an intoxicating scent you've come to memorize by heart. 

His nose tip is rosy from the cold, and you can't resist tapping it playfully. "Your nose is pink," you giggle, and he smiles, gently bopping yours in return. 

"So is yours."

You look at him as he gazes up at the stars above. You love Felix, it has always been crystal clear to you. From the moment he planted the seed of his friendship into your soul, and throughout the years when it bloomed into something more, bigger than the two of you. It wrapped around your being entirely, binding itself into your every atom, until all you saw is his reflection in you. 

And you were tired of treading the line between friendship and something more. You wanted, no craved being with him, your yearning so intense it spilled from you each time he was around. In rosy cheeks and shaky fingers and eyes that soften only when they rest on him- evidence of your love imprinted all upon you. 

You take in a deep breath, before laying your hand gently on his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. His eyes widen slightly at the soft touch, and you lean in closer to him. You brush your nose against his, slowly, "to warm it up," you whisper, as his breath hitches in his throat. 

He's close, he's so close, you can almost taste the brownies you shared earlier on his lips. You can see his freckles ever so clearly, constellations you often find yourself getting lost in. Your hand is still on his cheek, and you can feel it burning up under your palm. 

You close your eyes, as his lips are now just a breath away from yours. It's electrifying- having him so near to the way you've always dreamed, fantasized about. But he needs to be the one to take the jump, all he has to do is lean in a bit, and you'd kiss him. You won't ever let go. 

"Lixie...," you choke out, "kiss me." 

"I want to." His voice is hoarse with emotion, as if fighting with himself for self-restraint. 

"So do it," you ask, swiping your thumb gently across his cheek. Your breaths mingle with one another in a dizzying dance. 

"I'm leaving," he says so faintly, you believe for a second that you've imagined it. 

"What?" you ask, leaning a bit away to be able to look at him. 

"I'm leaving," he repeats, his eyes tightly shut. "We're moving to another country, for my dad's job." 

"You're leaving me?" you ask, bewildered. 

"I'm not leaving you-"

"But you are. You won't be here anymore." You drop your hand, taking hurried steps away from him. Touching him didn't feel electrifying anymore, it felt horrible and nauseous, because you won't get to do it again. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to-" 

"How long have you known?" 

"Yn..."

"Felix," you say, tone stern. "How long?" 

"Six months," he whispers and a bitter chuckle escapes your lips.

"When are you leaving?"

"In a week." 

The pain becomes unbearable, and you turn your back to him so he wouldn't see your rapidly falling tears. You are angry, as a disguise for the sadness threatening to drown you. Him leaving tasted like the salty water you gulp when you dive in too quickly into the ocean. And you did dive in, in him, in his soul and everything that made up Felix. And now he was leaving you, with no anchor to help you float again.

"Is that why you insisted on spending so much time with me lately? Because you were leaving?" 

"You need to understand I didn't know how to tell you, I- I don't even know who I am without you." He pleads, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears, reminding you of tiny diamonds. That's how it is with Felix, you found beauty in everything he did- even tearing your heart in half. 

"Maybe you should've thought of how I would feel. You were thinking of leaving me while I..." Your voice breaks and you take a shaky breath.  "While I was falling in love with you." 

"I'm in love with you too," he quickly says, reaching out to hold your hand. "I love you, I always have." He's wrapping his arms around you, and you're letting him because it feels safe and secure. Because he’s still your Felix, even if he's leaving you behind. 

You wonder what you must have done in a past life, what a horrible person you could've been for the universe to treat you this cruelly. To hand you everything you've ever wanted in a silver platter, and snatch it from your hands before you could dare to grab it. 

"We'll make it work," he mumbles into your hair, placing a tender kiss on your temple. "We'll talk and we can be together."

"No, we can't. I'll just hold you back from living your new life, I can't have that." 

"Don't talk like that, please," his voice wavers, words barely managing to slip out of his mouth. Regret overtakes your body so suddenly at the thought of his lips- you shouldn't have tried to kiss him. Maybe then he wouldn't have told you he was leaving. 

"It's the truth. we'll grow to hate each other, distance will put a strain on us. I'd rather not talk to you than have you resent me." 

"But-"

"Just hold me," you cut him off. "As if nothing's happening, please." 

And he complies because Felix always does. Because he loves you and as much as he doesn't want to, he knows you're right. 

•••••

It's been three months since Felix left- the days passed by agonizingly slowly, and yet the months went by in a blur, a hauntingly vivid reminder of what once was. At first, the texts between you two were frequent, but as time wore on, the messages grew sporadic, from your end, mostly. Seeing him flourish in his new life felt like salt on an open wound, a reminder that he was moving on while you were still anchored in memories of him. 

You saw him in every corner of your city. The smell of brownies that he's made countless times, each time you felt sad. The way he kissed your cheek each time he won a game, while you were lying on his bed, bored. The way he hugged you whenever you were sick, gently tucking strands of your hair behind your ear. The way he covered your ears instinctively at each loud noise, knowing how scared it made you still. 

And you've felt each of these emotions since he was gone. You were sad and bored and sick and happy and scared. And he wasn't here with you through them. Each moment away from Felix seemed to magnify what could have been- what should have been between the two of you.

There is a building construction next to you, loud cement blocks crashing to the ground. And you are curled around yourself in a protective ball, covering your ears with your hands, because Felix isn't here to do it anymore for you. 

You and Felix have grown with one another, your soul carefully woven into his, like two threads intricately stitched into the same tapestry. Him leaving felt like half of your body was cut off from you, and you were left alone to figure out how to function with an incomplete heart. 

17 july 2023 

Summer break meant coming back home and sleeping in your childhood bedroom once again. Memories of Felix still lingered in there- posters he has given you and his red sweater that you've never found the courage to throw away. It doesn't hurt as much to remember him, the sharp pain morphed into a dull ache you've grown accustomed to by now. 

You're watching the TV mindlessly when someone knocks on your door, and you go to open it without a second thought, expecting it to be your parents. It wasn't.

"Felix?" you stammer, stumbling back in shock. You blink repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to make sure he's not a figment of your twisted imagination. You haven't uttered his name in so long, and the syllables felt both foreign and familiar in your mouth. 

"It's me," he smiles sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

"You are here," you whisper, stating the obvious. He didn't change much, his kind brown eyes and freckles still as captivating as before. But his features were sharper, prettier, and the sight of him is making you dizzy once again. 

"I am." 

"What are you doing here?" You ask cautiously, opening the door a bit wider to let him in. 

"I requested a transfer to your university. I wanted to come back. I missed home, and I missed you," he adds softly, making a turmoil of emotions surge within you. 

You clear your throat. "So, you are back for good?" 

"I am," he says, smiling slightly at you as if to gauge your reaction. You stay silent and his grin falters; his tongue resting against the inside of his cheek, a habit he hasn't let go of apparently. He then walks to the kitchen and you follow suit. You don't have to show him around, he knows your home like the back of his hand. He spent most of his childhood here after all, even though his house was only a few blocks away. 

"How have you been?" he asks as he opens the cupboard to take out a glass. He closes its door softly, careful not to make it thud. 

"I'm good. It's summer break so I'm finally back home, what about you?"

"I'm good too. It's nice to be back." 

Your conversation is strained and awkward, so unnatural of you both. There was so much to say, so much to ask about, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. He felt like uncharted territory to you now, one you didn't have the strength to discover once again.

"It's your mom's birthday tomorrow, right?" he smiles and you nod. 

"Should we make her our cookies? Like we used to before I..." 

"Before you left," you finish, bitterness dripping from your tone.

Hurt flashes in his eyes and you feel your heart suddenly clench in your chest. It was unfair for you to treat him this way. He was only seventeen and if your parents were to move away you would've followed them too. 

"Okay, let's do it." You smile sincerely for the first time since he came back to you. 

You both move seamlessly in the kitchen, each knowing your tasks like a choreographed dance. This was a tradition that started when you were twelve years old. You'd brown the butter while he beat the egg and sugar together. He'd sift the flour while you cut up chocolate. He'd mix it all while you preheat the oven. And then you'd roll the dough together. 

Your hands brush against one another as you shape up the cookies, and it feels so intense you almost drop to the floor. You miss him, you miss him so much and he's near you and you can't seem to think straight anymore. 

When the cookies are finally in the oven, he silently washes the dishes while you dry them. He abruptly pauses, hands still covered in soap before turning back to you. 

"Can we talk? Please?" he says too quickly as if he's been overthinking asking this question. 

"I'm busy today," you scramble to think of an excuse, you weren't ready to face him yet. 

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm staying with my mom, then there is Han’s party."

"I'll be there too. We can talk then, please?" he asks, eagerness evident in his voice. 

"Fine. Let's talk there," you concede and he nods, awkwardly shifting in his place. He finishes the dishes before drying his hands. You avoid his gaze and he sighs softly. "I'll get going. Tell your mom happy birthday from me." 

"Will do." You smile tightly and he does the same, before finally leaving your home, and in his trail, a maelstrom of emotions you weren't certain how to deal with.

18 july 2023 

You're at the reunion party Han is hosting with all your high school friends. You watch as Felix takes turns talking to everybody. He fits right in here, a puzzle perfectly clicking in place as if he's never left. He's telling a joke to Chan who laughs loudly, hitting Minho's arm repeatedly. Everyone is happy he's back, because they never had to gravel with the consequences of his absence. Because he's never ripped their heart out. 

Felix is looking for you around the room- he hasn't seen you in a while. He assumes you're somewhere around the house, and that you'd like to talk when time has passed. The knot in his stomach tightens as the weight of your conversation dawns on him, he longs to be with you, to undo the past two years he has spent away from you. But he's afraid to mess everything up, once again, so he stays near his friends who are now pulling him outside of the house.

"We have a surprise for you," Han says excitedly before pointing at the sky, "look." 

Fireworks, a dazzling show of blue, red and yellow. And Felix feels as if the colors were drained out of his face and splattered into the night sky before him.

"Where is yn?" he turns to Chan, eyes wide.

"Inside, I think. Why?"

"Stop- stop this, don't start any more fireworks," he urges the boy who's looking at him worriedly. 

"Why, what's wrong? We have a warrant to start them, don't worry."

"No, no you don't understand. Yn hates loud noises," he explains frantically, before bolting inside the house. 

He's yelling your name, and you are nowhere to be found, the sound of the fireworks so loud he isn't even sure you can hear him. 

He opens door after door, and after painstakingly long seconds he finally finds you in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, your head buried in your knees. Just like you were twelve years ago. 

Felix doesn't waste any time, kneeling in front of you to cover your ears with his hands, you look up at him, waterline brimming with unshed tears. 

"It's okay, I'm here. Just focus on my voice," he smiles reassuringly at you, and you clasp your hands on top of his, doing your best to muffle the sound of the explosions. 

"Your hands are still small," you attempt to joke, as hot tears trail down your cheeks. You hated how scared you still were. 

"The perfect size to cover your ears," he smiles at you, his eyes softening when they take in your distressed state. 

You hiccup, overcome by a new wave of emotion- for an entirely different reason this time. "You came." 

"I'll always come. Even if the world was ending, I'll... I'll come to you," he smiles, biting his lower lip to stop his own tears from falling. 

"It'd be useless if you came then. There would be nothing for us to do," you manage to say through shaky breaths. 

"But I'd be with you," he insists, gaze unwavering, "It will be scary for you. I imagine it will be loud, the world can't end silently." 

"Mine did, when you left." Felix's eyes go wide at your words, and you don't care that you are baring your soul entirely to him. "Please don't leave me again. I hate goodbyes with you." 

"Why would we ever say goodbye again, hm?" he reassures, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly. "I'm never leaving you, as long as you'll have me, I'm here," he whispers, before pulling you into his chest.

Your hands find his back, and his cheek rests on top of your head. And you both close your eyes, an exhale of relief leaving you both at the same time. The world grows dark around the two of you, the only thing you saw was his heart and the overflowing love he still bore for you.

You felt as if you were wandering blind and you could finally see again, as if the string tying you to him wrapped tightly around the both of you, trapping you in his warm embrace.

You don't know what will happen next, but he's holding you now, and he'll hold you when the world is ending, and that is enough.

[soulofapatrick]

Bleeding Hearts - Jasper Hale x Reader

Summary: Jasper finds you on the floor crying and bleeding and patches you up which leads to feelings being admitted

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: blood; cut otherwise fluff and a little angst

Notes: DW I’m still gonna be writing TLOU stories too

Y/N’s POV

I didn’t wanna go back to mine, the place feeling to cramped and closed off which I know would add to all the pent up frustration I’m currently feeling. It’s why I’ve ended up at the Cullen’s house, needing to be somewhere no one will judge me and hey maybe Jasper can use if freaky emotional control on me so I can stop feeling like I want to slam someones head into a table or scream. This week has been non-stop and I just need a fucking break, shoulders tense and heart racing as I let myself in, knowing they’ve got the fridge stocked for me to help myself to anything I want. 

I drop my rucksack with a hard thump, kicking my shoes off and throwing my jacket in the general direction of my bag before heading towards the fridge. I’m moving around the kitchen island too quickly as I feel my elbow connect with the  beautiful glass jar there and just watch it go crashing to the ground, realising a few expletives, “Ahhh! Fucking shitting fuck!” 

The sound of shattering glass grates against my ears as my frustration is turning into overstimulation, the frustration reaching a breaking point that I can’t deal with it anymore. The tears are welling up in my eyes as I sink to my knees to clean up the mess before any of the Cullens get home and see me in this state. It’s like I’m fighting a losing battle and everything is just falling apart around me, the frustration is just so overwhelming and I’m struggling to stop the tears as they stream down my cheeks rather embarrassingly. The Cullens don’t like to leave me home alone after what happened to Bella and Laurent when Bella was human. 

“Y/N?” My head flies up at the sound of a familiar southern drawl to see Jasper standing in the doorway. His usually golden eyes are a bright, almost glowing shade of red and his gaze is intense as they focus on my hands while his jaw pops audibly as if he’s trying to restrain himself. My hands are bleeding, the pain only registering with me as I see the fresh blood dripping down my palms and onto the floors, adding to the mess I’ve made with the jar. The frustration turns into hopelessness as I can’t even clean up without causing more problems, the world conspiring against me and hey, maybe Jasper could lose control and kill me. It’d be the least of my problems at the moment, “Leave the glass, I’ll clear it up. Let’s get you bandaged up.”

The honey blond vampire is swallowing thickly, as if swallowing his urge to give into the bloodlust, before he’s approaching me. He crosses the room in a few quick, human paced, steps to lean down and help me to my feet with his icy hand on my forearm. He’s leading me upstairs and down the very familiar hallway, past my room to the room at the end which is his. I don’t think I’ve actually been in his room in the year I’ve been friends with the Cullens. 

The walls are a soft grey colour, making me think back to him and Emmett running upstairs one day with cans of grey paint a few months into me knowing them all, and there’s a few painting on the walls. There’s photos around the room from different centuries he’s lived through. If I was in a better mood I think I would have laughed at it and teased him as it’s such an odd sense of humour and I like it. He also has a bed which surprises me as they’ve vampires, they don’t sleep. It’s large and comfortable with high quality linens and pillows, a cozy blanket draped at the foot of the bed and a few fuzzy pillows. He’s pushing me onto the bed, making me sit on the edge while he disappears to do whatever, I don’t mind as it gives me time to really take in every detail of his room. 

There’s a vintage dresser, looking like it has been carefully maintained and it just makes me think about how weird it must be to watch the world you were born into develop and change while you… you stay the same. It must be so scary and lonely, watching everything you knew change with only you knowing what it once was. 

Jasper’s returning, med kit in hand and I can feel my heart rate embarrassingly begin to race at the sight of him and I know he hears it as he’s got a small smile on his lips. He doesn’t say a word though, sitting next to me and raising an eyebrow as if to tell me to hold my hands out. I do just that, marvelling at how gentle and careful his touch is. His hands are cold and smooth against mine, the contract between us noticeable and somewhat soothing. 

Despite the stinging pain of the cuts the sensations of his touch is almost comforting and if find myself relaxing under his care. I can feel his fingers brushing against mine and there’s an undertone to intimacy in the way he tends to me. His touch almost hypnotic that I get lost in it, the tension almost palpable and I know he definitely feels it as he’s able to read emotions. I should be embarrassed about Jasper always being able to know exactly how I feel but right now I couldn’t care less because even without vampire abilities I can tell it’s reciprocated and the moment is a gentle one, just between us. 

He’s breaking the tension, southern drawl filled with heat and concern, “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s got you all worked up?” His eyes are fixed on mine, the red having disappeared so they’re that breathtaking golden colour again, like the colour of a sunset on a hot day. The concern in his tone is genuine and I think my heart jumps into my throat when he leans closer to me. 

“I-I really don’t know.” I reply softly, feeling stupid that I got so worked up over something that I don’t even know what it was. He’s leaning even closer, icy hands sliding up my shoulders around my shoulders as he pulls me into a hug that draws a sound of surprise from me. His embrace is warm and full of comfort despite how naturally icy cold his body is as it’s pressed to mine. The scent of the vanilla shampoo he uses on his wavy blond hair and the rich and musky scent that is just Jasper, makes me almost dizzy. 

Being so close to a vampire like this I feel completely safe and secure. His nose is buried in the crook of my neck and his cool breath against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Vampires have no need to breath but it just seems a force of habit for the Cullens as they’ve integrated themselves into mortal society. I know how hard this must be for him, controlling his bloodlust being so close to my jugular but I don’t feel scared in any way. The moment feels intimate and special, feeling an embarrassing surge of romantic attraction towards him as I want to stay in his arms forever. 

The small smile I feel against my neck lets me know he can sense my emotions and a gasp is ripped from my throat when those cold lips press to my neck before he’s pulling back. Those golden eyes have darkened a little, full of unmistakable desire and passion. My heart is trying to break through my ribcage when he moves his hands to my cheeks, pulling me forwards until those same lips are soft against mine. I’m caught off guard as I never though Jasper would actually make a move, given his reputation for not being able to control his lust of human blood yet, making the kiss somewhat overwhelming. 

The kiss is oh so gentle and calculated as if he’s holding back so he doesn’t hurt me, thumbs stroking my cheeks softly as my own fly to his chest, feeling the coolness of his skin and the hard muscles beneath his shirt. My whole body feels electrified, tingling with anticipation and a satisfaction that I’ve not felt kissing other boys. His lips are surprisingly soft and cool against mine, mouth opening slightly so he can slide his tongue over my bottom lip. I’m parting them for him, our tongues meeting and the passion intensifying in a flood of warmth and I’m sure if Jasper knows he’s using his powers or not as we lose ourselves in the moment. 

Hands move from my cheeks, one to grip my waist almost painfully and the other tangling in my hair as he tilts my head back to deepen the kiss even more. I’m pressing against his chest lightly and he loosens his grip on my hair so I pull back enough to gasp for air and he’s chuckles low and rich, southern drawl strong and going straight between my legs, “Sorry doll, I forgot you need to breathe.” 

“Jasper.” His name slips from my lips in a whine and his eyes darken even more, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He’s yanking me forwards again, lips crushing against mine and I’m melting into his embrace as I can feel how careful he’s being with me despite how much sexual tension and want there is between us. He’s shifting his body over me, the hands in my hair and on my back are laying me down. 

My body feels so alive with the comfortable weight of him above me as he moves his lips down my neck and sucking gentle hickeys into the skin. His lips trailing down my neck is a new sensation that has my hips raising and searching for some form of friction, drawing a low sound from him. It’s amazing, being able to finally express all these feelings I’ve had kept hidden for so long, letting his feel the love and want for him. My fingers running through his surprisingly soft hair, pulling him closer to me, wanting Jasper to be the only thing on my mind. 

Suddenly, a low sound escapes my lips and Jasper’s replying with a small laugh as his hand in my hair moves to cover my mouth as he whispers, “They’re back darlin’.” 

“Jazz,” I can’t stop the whine as he breaks away from me, letting me catch my breath and regain my composure before we go down and greet the rest of the Cullens. I feel so empty and longing and I don’t care if everyone hears with their vampire hearing when I grip the front of Jasper’s shirt and yank. It catches him off guard, a surprised sound rumbling in his throat as he tumbles on top of me again, arms catching himself before he hurts me, “Jazz.” 

“I know sweet girl, I know,” He coos softly, fingers brushing the stray strands away from my face, his gaze so loving it steals the air from my lungs and I’m flushing hot, “Come on, we gotta go talk to them.” 

“They can hear us.” I protest quietly and he’s chuckling fondly again, head falling to my shoulder. 

“There is glass and blood on the floor.” Jasper reminds me and I groan in protest but let him move away, watching him as he’s now standing beside the bed. His tall and lean figure towering over me and I should be scared but all I feel content. He runs a hand through his tousled blond hair, causing it to fall into a charmingly disheveled way across his forehead. His golden eyes are filled with tenderness and concern as he gazes down at me, taking in my flushed and flustered appearance, chiseled jaw set in a determined expression, as if he's ready to protect me from anything that might cause me harm. Despite his vampire nature, there is an undeniable warmth and humanity in his features that make you feel safe and loved.

He reaches down and helps me to my feet, placing a soft kiss to my forehead before holding my face in his hands and looking me in the eyes promising me he will always look out for me no matter what. A sense of comfort washes over me as he wraps me in a strong embrace that has me knows he means every single word and no matter what any of his family says he will always stay by my side. 

[lebbys-world]

Hello, this is my first time requesting any sort of writing, but I've had this idea for a couple days now.

So the idea is, a todoroki x reader. Where reader (preferably fem) is obsessed with mugs, and it's pretty unexpected with people, because she has a resting-B*-face, and is very guarded due to seeing how twisted and weird people can be.

Anyway, in my mind maybe it's todoroki, deku, and bakugo's turn to go on the weekly shopping run, and they're down the dish isle (for some reason), and todoroki sees this mug he thinks reader would like because it has her favorite character on it. So they finish the trip, and he brings the mug to reader, she's so happy and excited about this mug that she's just sitting there unable to express how happy she is so she's tears up a bit, but looks at him and out of nowhere basically tackles, this man into a hug.

That was my idea you don't have to use it, but I just thought this was so cute and had to see it written. Thank you, have a nice day/evening/night ☺️

A Mug for a Hug

Todoroki x fem!reader, established relationship, collections/hyperfixations, fluff !!

notes: thanks so much for the request !! i hope i was able to put your idea into words, even just a bit !! i also used third person for this one, just for the sake of switching perspectives between the reader, Todoroki, and narration !!

Come the end of the week, each of the class 1-A students were given their usual chores for around heights alliance - the method coordinated and conducted by none other than the class president himself.

Insisting that everyone pull their weight, Ida charted who would make dinner, clean the common room, take out the trash, gather groceries, and the like.

This week, Y/N's eyes scanned the posting, her duty was to help make meals every other day, alongside Mina.

Smiling to herself, she fortunately seemed to get one of the best outcomes of this random chore raffle.

As her eyes carried on looking over the paper, they landed on a pair of three names listed below “buying snacks and groceries”:

Midoriya, Bakugo, & Todoroki 

Oh goodness.

Those three definitely won't make it back with the food intact. 

Seemingly noticing the situation he was in himself, Todoroki looked blankly at the board, then looked over to Y/N. 

“Hey, Sho, please try to keep all the food intact, okay?” Y/N chuckled, egging her boyfriend on a bit. “If you don’t, Mina and I won’t be able to make dinner for everyone.”

He smiled softly, “I’ll do my best, but you might have to bring it up with Bakugo. I’m sure he’s the one who really needs that warning.”

“Yeah, I’ll warn him as well.” She rolled her eyes, brows furrowing already at the thought of the conversation.

“Well, good luck. I’ll see you when I get back, alright?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, waving him off as he went down the hall.

Later that day, post-warning scolding, the three boys had managed to, rather uneventfully, gather all the groceries they needed.

As Bakugo yelled at Midoriya for the shopping list, Todoroki made his way down the adjacent aisle, biding his time as the other two double checked the cart.

The shelves of the neighboring aisle were lined with glass, a variety of unique ceramics sitting on top.

There were hand-made bowls, hand-painted plates, printed jars, and, yet, one thing in particular caught his eye.

Near the end-cap of the aisle was a small row of mugs, each with a custom print of a character across it.

He picked up one, smiling to himself, as he thought about the collection Y/N had in her room.

Keeping her interests to herself, Todoroki reminisced of the time she happily went around showing off her trinkets and collection to him.

It made him feel truly a part of her life - being trusted to see such an open and earnest side of her.

He picked up the mug with her f/c on it, running his hand over it gently, before going back to the others to finish checking out.

By the time the trio made it back to the dorms, evening had crept its way in.

In the kitchen stood Y/N and Mina, carefully preparing a broth for dinner while waiting for the remaining ingredients to make their way back.

The two laughing to themselves, Mina happily remarked when she saw the other three walking towards the kitchen, bags of groceries in tow.

“Well it took you boys long enough!” 

“Seriously,” Y/N chimed in, a smile on her face, “did you get lost in that store or what?”

“JUST TAKE THE DAMN GROCERIES-” 

A loud thunk was heard as some of the bags hit the table, Bakugo storming off.

Midoriya’s face paled as he went to make sure all the jars were still intact, rapidly apologizing for the actions that weren't his own. 

“Again, I’m really sorry about Kacchan! I hope you guys can make something good with what we bought, though! Please let me know if you need any help!”

The freckled boy bowed again, and ran off after Bakugo, likely insisting the hot-head apologize as well.

Left behind to help unload the dishelved bags, Todoroki put things away in the pantry one by one, chiming into the girls’ conversation.

As he reached the end of the bags, he carefully unwrapped the ceramic mug he had tucked safely away, and softly reached out for Y/N.

“Hey, I thought I’d get you something while we were out.” He smiled, showing it to her as she turned to meet his face. 

“I thought a mug with your f/c would be a good addition to your collection… though, if you already have it, I can return it and find you a different one..” he trailed off.

Awestruck, Y/N stood for a moment, not knowing what to do.

Her eyes watered, as her heart warmed.

She hadn’t known that Shoto would care so much about her interests like that.

No one ever did before - in fact, it was usually the exact opposite.

People would normally shy away whenever she became more open, so she often put up a mask, keeping what made her happy safe and away from anyone who dared taint it.

But, when she started dating Shoto, she settled on being herself.

She wanted to be herself, with him.

So she tried, and gave him a glimpse into her world.

He seemed happy when seeing her collection, and listening to her rant, even asking a few questions along the way.

Yet. after that, he hadn't brought it up again.

So, Y/N let it be.

But here he stood, smiling at her, a brand new f/c mug in his hands for her collection. 

He cared.

He really cared.

A tear fell down her cheek as she ran into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.

Todoroki stumbled a bit at the sudden hug, adjusting himself so as to not damage the mug at all. 

“Sho..” Y/N looked up at him, smiling wide, “thank you.”

“Of course,” his eyes shone back, as he quickly tightened the embrace.

The two haphazardly let go of each other, as Todoroki passed the new mug along to Y/N.

Within seconds her energy had shot through the roof, and she couldn’t stop talking about this f/c mug.

“I mean, HOW DID YOU FIND THIS??” She asked, carefully looking at the print. “This one was a limited run, and somehow you stumbled into it at the GROCERY store??”

“Well it was just sitting on the shelf..”

“Really??”

She ran over to Mina, proudly showing off the newest prized piece of her collection. 

“Mina, just look at what Shoto got me! Isn’t it the best?”

Mina laughed at her enthusiasm, “it really is! Why don't we wash it off and you can use it as your glass for dinner tonight?”

Y/N stood with her mouth wide open, her invisible tail wagging at the idea. 

“HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THAT??”

As the kitchen continued to fill with the warm aroma of food and the sweet sound of three friends laughing together, Y/N hugged her boyfriend once more, new mug in hand, and new, real, memories being made together.

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[vampdes]

— “ALWAYS FROM AFAR” [yes, he used to watch you from afar, stuck in the shadows, behind a grimy desktop and glued to a chair—but now, now he had you in his hands. and he wasn’t giving you up anytime soon.]

GENRE. unhealthy fluff

PAIRING. stalker!male oc x male reader

CW. lowercase intended, neighbor!oc.

NOTES. oc’s name is ‘Issac’ for the sake of this story, might change it later? dunno!! also, this is split into two parts cause i didn’t wanna write so much!! enjoy regardless tho ๑⁠♡

PARTS. i, iii

three years, seven months, and seventeen days since issac started his unhealthy infatuation with a man who didn’t even know of his existence, which made is all the more sweeter! first impressions were important, very, very important. so, meeting his betrothed was undeniably important.

a coffee shop, perhaps? no, no. only for morning people, and [name] isn’t a morning person. hm, where else — what about his darling’s neighborhood? oh, oh issac could move in! well, that’s too forward. he’ll be [name]’s neighbor at first, then a friend, then a best-friend, then his boyfriend, then his fiancé, then his husband, then his life-long partner! oh god, issac’s heart flutters at the thought of being together with his darling!

issac squealed loudly into his hands, quickly running to his bed and hugging his specially made [name] body-pillow. he even had strands of your hair and a glass jar of your saliva, which he worships every night, thanking you for the wondrous opportunity to love you! and your saliva came from your mouth, the one you use to eat with and the one you will use to kiss him with, tasted so, so good. issac drools to the idea of you kissing him, tainting his virgin soul with your god-like imprint.

“we’ll be together,” he whispered to the pillow, imagining you were infront of him, “soon, very, very soon, my love. oh, i just can’t wait!”. before issac went to sleep with you [the body pillow] by his side, he took his nightly intake of your spit, letting it rest on his tongue before allowing it to slide down his throat. then, it was time for his daily cum tribute to you.

issac’s cock rested against his stomach, twitching and aching for your touch, and he was going to receive it. he placed the body pillow on top of him, gripping it with his arms and crossing his ankles to hold you in place. issac thrusted upwards, bitting his lower lip to cover his moans; his moans were too horrid for your ears to hear, so he wanted to shut himself up. “[name],” he whispered, eyes cloths as he continued his thrusts, only doing them quicker, “ffuckin’—”, his words were caught in his throat and now, his hips were moving on their own, chasing his orgasm. issac started to cry, the feeling of you on top of him was too much. but god, he was overjoyed.

“i– oh, oh god—”, he covered his mouth with his left hand, throwing his head back as euphoria washed over him. his thrusts finally stopped, his mind went fuzzy, and the idea of you could get him started again. cum painted his stomach and you, making a blush show on his face, “i’m so sorry, sweetheart! i, i didn’t mean to!”, issac quickly apologized, looking into your eyes hesitantly, “can—can i clean,, you?”, he didn’t want to be denied of his wishes, but if you said no— “i can? oh thank you! i’ll be good from now on, so, so good for you!”.

issac’s long, pink tongue started to lick the pillow clean, quite moans coming from him whilst doing so. “you taste so good,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut, “you taste amazing.. i love you so much! so, so much! you love me, right? oh, you do? aaa! i’m so happy!”.

issac soon tucked the both of you in, you being little spoon and him being big spoon, and kisses your forehead, whispering promises of vows and devotions to you, regardless of anything you do! “i love you so much..”, he mumbled, eyelids fluttering short from exhaustion.

it was sunday morning, around 5? way too early to wake up, in your opinion. but the sound of moving trucks and shouting awoke you, which gradually turned into you getting out of bed and throwing on a robe to see what all the commotion outside was. with a cup of nestquik in your hand, you made your way to the door.

upon opening, however, you were met with the face of an angel—a literal angel. well at least he looked like one, and he smiled like one as well. he stood tall, 6ft something, and had curly black hair with highlight of neon green in it. he was a bit chubby, leaning on a dad-bod which made him all the more attractive. he adorned a pearl necklace and three tier star earrings, and the sun shined on him so perfectly. god damnit, if this man was your neighbor— wait, is he your neighbor?

“h–hello! i’m your, erm, neigh—”, the unknown man cleared his throat. he looked,, nervous? and, this might be a far fetch but, was he blushing? his cheeks looked exceptionally rosy. “neighbor?” you questioned, finishing his sentence. he nodded, holding out a plate of cookies which seemed to be freshly baked. “yes, your new neighbor! i, erm, wanted to introduce.. my—myself to–to you! since i should get to, erm, uh, know my neighbors..” he stuttering was relentless, but it made him so adorable in your eyes! aww, you could just stuff him in your pocket! he’s too cute, way too cute.

“well,” you started, taking a sip of your drink, “welcome to the neighborhood, i’m [name] and, asking for a friend, are those cookies mine?” you eyed the plate more than once while he stood in front of you, and he could tell, he was just too nervous! what if you didn’t like his baking? what if you didn’t like him? oh, gosh, he was starting to regret this decision!

“ah, yes—hah, they are! i forgot to,, tell you they were, erm, for you. apologies, i should’ve been more,, forward? i’m quite nervous around new,, new, uh, people, if you could–couldn’t tell already! and when i’m nervous, i tend to, uh, ram–ramble and my–my, uh, stutter becomes wor–se..!” his free hand waved around as he spoke, signaling how nervous he was and how he was just so, so fucking adorable! god, you definitely scored this time.

“thank you, neighbor,” you stated, grabbing his waving hand and placing it on the underside of the plate, “i’ll make sure to enjoy these, and i’ll come to you for more if i can’t get enough of them, okay?” your smile was so—aaa! he just can’t stop smiling when he’s near you! god, this was too much for him! but he knew he had to resist the urge to kiss you, you wouldn’t like that! and he needed your permission before doing anything of the sort! he wasn’t some creepy stalker or something, never! but, he did want to stay on your doorstep, he would if you allowed him to! but no, he knew he couldn’t, he unfortunately had boxes to unpack —but, wait, he didn’t tell you his name! oh god.. well, he could just tell you on your date!

it’d been a month, coming up on a year, since issac had moved in. you’ve been learning so much about your adorable neighbor! even his name is cute! although, you’ve never been inside of his house.. which isn’t really an issue for you, you just had too much curiosity inside of you.

ever since he had moved in, the two of you have been hanging out almost every week! it’d been the best few months of your life. the two of you even spent christmas together! laying underneath the hollywood sign! it was so, so sweet! you were a bit confused tho — was he lingering on the border of friendly or having a crush on you? it was rather confusing to say the least.

what wasn’t confusing was the fact that he had taken you to the most luxurious beach you had ever been to, and the fact that you had the time of your life. the two of you stayed there until the sunset had dawned upon the two of you, making the fact that it was time to leave known.

meanwhile, in your city’s airport, a man stood there, awaiting a taxi. simon was his name. he had his hair pulled back in a ponytail and had shades covering his eyes. simon was also dressed to the nines for a very important occasion: returning to his lover. he was just so excited! after a year of his departure, he was finally back! obviously, this was going to be quite the surprise for his boyfriend, he just couldn’t wait to see the excitement on you face! oh his lovely boyfriend you, he just can’t wait!

moving on, you and issac stood in your driveway in front of his car with the headlights being blindingly bright. sand was in your hair, loads of it at that, but that didn’t matter to issac — for he didn’t care how you looked because you always looked pretty to him, just as you did now.

“i had fun today.” you stated, wrapping your lower half with your towel. “me–me too! may–be we could do–it again some–sometime?” issac’s smile was bright, so obviously you couldn’t do anything but comply to his wishes. “yeah, we can. this weekend? that’s when i’m free.”. issac was confused. why were you busy this weekend when you were free every other weekend? and so he asked said question, just in a politer tone. “oh, well i have to spend this week with my boyfriend! have i not mentioned him before? i thought i did..”, you started to retrace your thoughts during the months you two had spent together, trying to see if you ever mentioned simon.

but issac on the other hand was freaking the fuck out.

a lover?! he’s been watching you so diligently, and you have never, ever mentioned a lover! and you haven’t told him before?! do you not trust him? what if his dreams don’t come true? what if ‘your’ simon is prettier than him? oh god, what’s going to happen to what you two have now?! issac doesn’t want this to be the end.. please don’t let this be the end! wait — wait, he could get rid of that scum for you! it’s obvious you didn’t love simon since you’ve been with him for your comfort. you’ve been with him to soothe your loneliness. you sought whatever you missed in your heart through him! so–so the two of you had to have something. no the two of you definitely have something. and that something has to be love! issac knows it is love!

but why are you with that simon? he couldn’t understand it.

“o–oh! okay, uh, then i’ll, erm—”, you can obviously sense the aggravation coming from him, but from what? was he in love? with you? “how about tomorrow? i’ll make time tomorrow okay? and then, we can bake!”. issac’s eyes were still down at the ground, but he wasn’t going to cry, he didn’t want to seem too weak in front of you!

“issac,” you started, cradling the sides of his face with your hands, “you can bake me those cookies you gave me when we first met, they were pretty good! okay? i promise, i’ll come over and we’ll have the time of our lives!” your smile was way too bright for him not to look at you. but aaa! his pout was too adorable for you not to smile! gosh, why couldn’t simon be more like him? if issac was your lover then—what? why were you thinking such thoughts?! oh could this be cheating?

“to—tomorrow, then? you–you’re coming over tomorr–ow, right?”, aaaa!!! him and his puppy dog eyes are just too cute! he’s too adorable for his own good, gosh! “yes, i’ll be over tomorrow! promise.”

© CREDITS TO ur1nonlydan. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR COPY MY WORKS.

[steviewashere]

To Be So Mundane

Rating: General CW: Brief mention of Covid-19 (as this is set in 2021) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Future Fic, Set in 2021, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Older Steddie, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, The Intimacy in a Bowl of Soup, Emotional Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Soft Eddie Munson, Soft Steve Harrington

Thought about finishing up the fourth chapter of my merman Steve fic. And then I got sidetracked, so here's this. Also, I don't know where they live or what Eddie does for work (maybe mechanic, if you feel so inclined to imagine him that way). Pick your flavor <3

🥣—————🥣 At the end of the day, Steve realizes it’s not the horror he’s experienced that will linger. Sure, they persist and he is frightened and he shakes sweating from it all. But when he comes home, exhausted to his core and sluggish to the soles of his feet, it’ll never be the agony he finds in his kitchen. It’s the warmth.

The sweet musk of vanilla bourbon candles bought from the home aisle of the neighborhood Walmart. A singular orange bulb in a second-hand floor lamp, tucked cozy by the couch, in the corner between the back door and the right armrest. Bookshelves of knick knacks and framed photos from 2003—when he finally tried the college route and graduated. The sprawl of mini-figure painting equipment on the coffee table: half-open paint jars that he closes up tight, still drying clean paint brushes, paper towels and yellowed newspaper, and magnifying goggles.

It’s to music. Soft crooning through the—now considered ancient—record player from 1988. Sometimes Jim Croce. Sometimes John Prine. Sometimes the goddess, Dolly Parton. Something familiar and nearly worn out from playing the records over and over and over. Tonight, it’s Jim. It’s coming back to the floating husking rasp of Eddie Munson’s fifty-five year old voice, not all that great but always sweet from by the stovetop.

To where Steve migrates, shoeless and briefcase free and his teacher’s badge hung up. Where soup simmers on the low heat—smelling of paprika and roasted carrots and chicken bouillon. The oven heating up a loaf of French bread, basted in garlic butter, sprinkled with shredded mozzarella cheese. Where Eddie stands, stirring and singing—his now silver hair pulled up into a bun, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants, and his scruff not shaved—he must’ve had a lazy day. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, his body warm and his tummy a little pudgier. Eddie hums, reaching down with a free hand to cover the back of Steve’s, squeezing. And Steve’ll never be used to their wedding rings clinking together.

“Long day?” Eddie murmurs low.

Steve grunts. Digs his chin into Eddie’s left shoulder. His glasses going crooked from the angle. Peers down at the bubbling pot of dinner. “Kids kept threatening to take their masks off. Nearly started a coughing fight,” he answers at the same volume. He sighs, long and genuine. “They’ve officially turned Covid-19 into classroom warfare. Whatever happened to spitballs and globs of food?”

Eddie chuckles deep in his chest. “Don’t give ‘em ideas, Stevie.” He smiles softly down at his cooking, dimples deep and smile lines deeper. Steve kisses under his left ear just because. Because he can. Because this is what the world is when it doesn’t end, thank god. The soup is stirred slowly for a few more beats. He scoops up a spoonful in their beat up ladle. It’s got a few char scars from when they first learned to cook meals for one another—Steve believes it’s from the time he forgot to turn off the stovetop when making macaroni and cheese. Lesson learned.

“Here, taste this for me, baby?” Eddie gently requests, holding the ladle to Steve’s face over his shoulder. Hand cupping the underside. Face turned slightly to try and make eye contact, he’ll give himself a knot if he does it too long. Steve knows, having given many massages over the last decade.

He leans forward slightly, accepting the soup as Eddie tilts the ladle. Makes an obnoxious slurp that Eddie snorts at. Smacks his lips and hums. “Ooo, that’s good,” Steve mutters close to Eddie’s ear. “Got a little kick to it. You put a little bit of that new chili oil?”

“Mm and chili flakes,” Eddie hums. “Thought it would pair nicely. Remember that chicken I began marinating last night?”

“The chicken you told me I couldn’t make for my lunch today?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, turning back to the soup pot, shutting the burner off. “I told you not to take it all,” he points out with pleasant tease. “Because you’ll do that if I don’t stop you. And then you come home and complain that your stomach hurts because you ate too much. And then I have to put you on bed rest for the night.”

“I’m not that bad—“

“Anyway,” Eddie cuts in. “I marinated it in this ginger, coconut sauce that I saw a few nights ago on uh…What’s that app that Robin’s always sending videos from?”

“The…The TickTick app?” Steve guesses.

Eddie snaps his fingers together. “Yeah! That app!” He exclaims softly. (They’ll learn later it’s definitely not that, but it doesn’t matter.) He shrugs Steve off to grab the bread from the oven. Steve just moves around to their bar countertop, not a complaint on his tongue. Eddie continues, “I also added a little bit of coconut milk to the base broth. So, hopefully, this’ll be good. With the leftovers, I was thinking you could make your cauliflower rice for lunch and put the soup on top? Only if it’s good, though. If this sucks, I’ll pay for pizza tonight.”

Steve laughs from his belly. “If you do, make sure to get the gluten free crust. Stupid stomach has been acting up again,” he says softly.

Standing up, Eddie hisses. “You’re lucky that the bakery section at the grocery store only had gluten free baguettes then,” he teases gently once more. He sets the finished bread on the countertop, grabs the bottle of chili oil from by the pot of soup, and drizzles it lightly overtop the cheesy, garlic goodness. When he finally dishes up their dinner, he settles next to Steve at the counter. Bowls and small plates of bread in front of them. Glasses of crappy Barefoot red wine, because this is what they can afford—and it doesn't really suck, not when it's served thoughtfully like it is tonight.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmurs. He leans in close to Eddie’s side, presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, and then promptly digs in.

And it’s good. Everything’s so good. Jim Croce is singing about time in a bottle. The soup is warm and fresh and homemade. Every light is a careful amber. He’s tired and happy and…complete.

Eddie’s got soup in the scruff under his lip. But Steve doesn’t say anything. Just admires the fine wrinkles and lines to his face, where they’ve begun to really deepen. Admires how his eyes are just as big and soft and expressive as they were thirty-five years ago after Vecna. Where his body is soft. His endearingly white hair.

How he’s alive.

“Hey, Eds?”

Immediately, Eddie looks onto him. Eyes wide with trepidation. The corners of his mouth pinched downward. “Is it not good? I can go get my wallet if it’s—“

Steve lays his hand on the back of Eddie’s forearm. The right one, closest to him, where scars swamp the bats. And that says something, too, he’s sure. About how Eddie fought the bats and came out victorious anyway. His thumb runs soothingly over Eddie’s malleable, aged, warm skin. And his eyes prickle with tears—it would’ve been embarrassing if he were nineteen still, but what a wonderful thing to be alive and cry at all.

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here with me,” Steve breathes out all at once. He sighs through his mouth, a gentle sob escaping.

Eddie drops his spoon into his bowl of slowly cooling soup. And he reaches up, dislodging Steve’s hand on his arm completely, cupping his face between his hands instead. “Oh, baby,” he coos. “Baby, are you alright? Where’s this coming from?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t know. Not really. But it’s here. And he’s got a therapist in the aftermath of everything, and feelings deserved to be felt—so they’ve said. “I just—“ He wetly exhales, leaning into Eddie’s soft hands. “—I don’t know. It’s so fucking…I’m so happy to just be boring. To do the same mundane things every single day. To just come home.”

“Oh,” Eddie coos again. He tugs Steve closer, burying his face into his shoulder. Pets a hand through Steve’s own white hair. A hand between his shoulders. Letting him dissolve safely. “I am, too, Steve,” he states like a promise. “You have no idea how my heart just soars in the morning when I look over and you’re…God, you’re drooling all over your own forearm and snuffling deep into the pillow and your hair is all spiky and you’ve got creases all over your face from going to war with the top sheet.” Steve chuckles just as Eddie pulls him back. Hands back on his cheeks, thumbs soothing tear tracks. “You have no idea how relieved I am to look over and see you at peace, sweetheart. Every day—I don’t know how you do it—but every day you let me discover a new part of you to love.”

They smile at one another, softly, eyes shiny with tears. Their soup is going cold, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve got all the time in the world to reheat it.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, states. Just because he can.

“I love you, too,” Eddie says immediately. Because it’s that easy.

It’s easy when life is nothing more than this.

🥣—————🥣

[itsmebytch001]

Okay! So Imagine on Earth 42! Y/n is dead but Aaron is alive and when Y/n turns up in his living room not seeing that this isn't really HER house and Miles and Aaron walk in and he's like...

Aaron: "Miles...Miles I think i'm tripping" He backs away from her and grabs onto Miles's shoulder but Miles is just leaping to her and hugging her so tightly it's hurting her and Aaron's just FROZEN in the corner like wtf and while Miles is hugging her and crying Y/n and Aaron are just looking at each other likeeee almost crying...

Y/n: "...Papa?" And he's so scared that this is like a horrible punishing dream to hurt himself so he's like backing out the room just pissed he's having this dream again and is like breaking down in Y/n's room which Miles is NEVER allowed to eneter EVER only him and he sits and stares into the void and cleans it but always leaves everything EXCATLY how it was when she died

OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH I NEEEEEEEEEEED MORE ANGST GIMME

Yas I need more angst FEED MEEEEE

It takes like an hour for Aaron to accept that this isn't

A) A evil trick or

B) A bad dream / hallucination

but once he dose he fully breaks down crying and holding onto his daughter is a bear hug in a vice like grip and shes crying and E42!Miles is crying while 160!Miles is just standing in the living room like....

160!Miles: "damm what happened to ya'll?" While the family collapses in tears and 160!Miles is so taken aback by Aaron's cyring having never seen it before he's juts like...

160!Miles: "Imma just head out, be back in 20 when ya'll are done"

I think Aaron might snap a bit and not let Reader leave, like he's smart enough to make her a watch that allows her to stay, he decorates it as 'you can stay here however long you like!' but really it's more like 'you ain't leaving, not now to ever and don't try with me I will lock you in your room' and he treats her like a glass balloon not letting her do anything without him, sometimes when you stay over if he is chill (Unlikely) he just watches you from afar, if 42!Miles catches him he's like...

42!Miles: "You good Unc?"

42!Aaron: "Yeah, why?"

42!Miles: "Cuz you standing over your daughter while she sleeps like fucking Michel Myers"

...

42!Aaron: "Shut up, get back to bed"

42! Miles: "How about you bet back to bed, looking like a serial killer"

Comes visits you whenever, scares the shit out of Jeff, he also breaks down when he comes to visist, honestly he might aswell move since he's here so so so very often, back in his universe (E42!) He has a mural for you, like the one his family has for him on E160 but he dosne't visit it often as he should, E42!Miles dose like every week or so to make sure the paint dose not fade but when he dose visit he leaves incense and plays some sad music and just sits and stares into the void.

If you took him to his mural you need to keep reminding him he's dead in E160 and that he can't be drawing attention to himself so to keep a low profile, and if you have his ashes he's like...

42!Aaron: "So my whole body....is in this tiny jar?"

160!Y/n: "It's called an earn...but yes"

42!Aaron: "Don't give me lip...but are you sure? Maybe they missed a piece? How can my ENTIRE body be in this?" He waves it around.

160!Y/n: "Please...Please don't do that" You snatch it back from him and place it back on the shelf.

42!Aaron: "Right, I'm sorry it's just strange...being dead kinda"

160!Y/n: "Where's my body then? back where your from"

And suddenly it all come back and he becomes cagey and sad...poor Aaron just want's to forget but keep you forever, will come back to scare Diana as well just for laugh's ....

[softcitrus2345]

Full Tank

This is a little written piece I made after a series of doodles from a while back that I ended up liking. A lot XD I sprinkled in the doodles that inspired this written piece into the post as well for double the fun >;3c I'm NOT an experienced writer by any means and this was mostly for fun so I could explore my own characters, but ye, I figured I might as well share it here with yall TTwTT This piece includes themes of funnel feeding, stuffing, male weight gain, some squish stuff and a light dash of spice near the end And of course, a big ass scoop of FLUFF >:Dc

This little blurb features Vanessa (she/her) and Damien (he/him), my two (favorite) lovebugs TTwTT

Hope yall like it! :3

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

Vanessa stirred in bed, her arms reaching out for the plush warmth that she expected to be there, only to be met with empty bedsheets

Her eyes fluttered open and sure enough, there was a sizeable indent in the bed where her partner should have been..

The clock on the bedside table marked 1:26 am <<Where could he have gone off to at this time of night??>> She thought, but the little voice in the back of her mind already knew the answer…

She felt around the nightstand before locating her glasses, which she hastily put on as she walked out of the bedroom

Tiptoeing down the long and elaborate flight of stairs, the vampire made her way toward the kitchen. Though she was still getting used to living in a mansion, she knew all too well where this room was..

As she approached the dining room, she could hear noises coming from somewhere in the kitchen. <<Found you>> She grinned, her movements slow and calculated so as not to alert the lycanthrope. The faint glow of the open fridge illuminated a small portion of the otherwise dark kitchen, painting a perfect picture of what events had occurred while she wasn't there

Several empty containers of food were strewn about the kitchen counter, picked clean and discarded while the perpetrator focused on his next course, his tall, plump frame hunched over, while his head and hands were stuck in the fridge, busy devouring whatever he could get his hands on

The back of his shirt had just begun to ride up, exposing a small sliver of pale flesh

Vanessa could hardly contain her excitement as the gap between her and her gluttonous partner grew shorter and shorter

"Hey handsome~" she purred, hugging Damien from the back, squeezing the bottom of his belly, nearly melting as she felt the warm softness between her fingers

Damien's whole body jumped, his head shooting up and slamming into the top of the fridge interior before turning around, groaning softly as he rubbed his head with his clean hand

"V-Vanessa-!!" He squeaked, his crumb-covered face red as a beet, pale skin further emphasizing the embarrassment blooming on his cheeks

"I was j-jus- uhmm.." he backed away from the fridge a bit, straightening up to his full height and wiping the evidence off his flushed face

"Hey, it's okay, you were just hungry... You know I'd never discourage you from getting something to eat~" She chuckled, watching her boyfriend's sheepish expression as he towered over her like an oversized kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar

She snuck several glances at his midsection, her own face growing warmer

An idea blossomed in her mind, making the corners of her mouth curl into a cheeky grin

"Here, I'll help you," she said, grabbing Damien by the hand before he could protest and bringing him into the dining room, where she sat him in one of the wooden chairs that she pulled from the table

The chair made a distinctive creak as he sat down, causing the pair to blush once more

"What're you-" "Shhhh, you'll love it, I promise" she interrupted his questioning, pressing a finger to his lips

"I'll be back in a bit, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, 'kay?" She smiled, planting a small peck on his round cheek before hopping off to the kitchen again

In the kitchen, Vanessa opened the fridge to find Damien's most recent "snack", a large chocolate cake she had been saving for the next day. No matter, it surely won't go to waste..

She picked up the cake and set it on the counter, smiling as she saw the small portion that he had ripped out of the cake with his greedy hands

Then opening the freezer, she grabbed several quarts of vanilla ice cream and set them near the cake

As Damien sat in his chair, awaiting whatever surprise Vanessa was preparing for him, he heard the whirring of the blender, which seemed to go on for quite a while, before stopping and continuing the same routine a couple more times

Damien felt his stomach growl again, demanding more, despite having consumed quite a bit already

"Hhhokay.. calm down, you can wait a few more minutes.." he said to himself, noticing his heartbeat increasing in frequency as the minutes ticked by

"Alriiiight, it's ready!" She called in a sing-songy voice from the kitchen "Close your eyes for me, and no peeking, or you won't get any-"

Of course, he knew she didn't really mean that, but Damien played along, keeping his eyes closed as he opened his mouth, awaiting whatever she had conjured up for him

He was caught off guard by the cylindrical form that entered his maw, which Vanessa had pushed further back into his mouth before he realized what it was, making a small noise between a whimper and a gasp before staying seated, the chair creaking a bit more as he squirmed, flustered out of his mind

Almost immediately after the tube was positioned in his mouth, his taste buds were bombarded with a cold, rich, chocolatey liquid

Several more flustered huffs came from him as he began to hastily drink down the substance in thick gulps

"I wanted to try something new tonight, I've been saving this little tool for a.. special occasion~" Vanessa purred, her eyes focused on her partner while she kept her hands steady, pouring the cake shake into the funnel with relative ease, despite the sizeable pitcher she carried being nearly full of dense liquid

Damien couldn't respond, he could only focus on drinking every last drop of the shake, so he wouldn't make a mess of course~

As he continued to drink, he felt his shirt become tighter and begin to ride up, his growing belly pushing against the fabric while gradually occupying more space in his lap

"Hmmnh, ghmmmg…. ghlpg- ghhhhhn?" Damien whined as the flow of the shake trickled to a stop

"Oh don't you worry lovely, there's still plenty more where that came from.." Vanessa responded, picking up a second pitcher and tipping it into the funnel once more

"Hmmmmmmmmhhhhh.." Damien hummed in satisfaction as his cheeks flushed pink once more as he continued his routine of gulping down more, and more, and more

His hands slowly traveled their way up his lap and on top of his belly, lightly pressing on its cushioned surface, as he expanded more by the second

Vanessa knew him too well, she was much better at initiating these sorts of activities, where he could indulge in his own, less conventional desires, and he adored her for it

At the end of the second pitcher, he could already feel his stomach churning, trying its best to keep up with the sudden surge of calories, growling and groaning loudly while Damien panted, the tube still in his mouth

That should have been enough, but something in him wanted more

Luckily he wasn't quite finished with his task, as Vanessa picked up the final pitcher she had prepared

Damien's eyes fluttered open, panting and staring above him at his partner, his eyes almost desperate as she grinned at her greedy boyfriend They both exchanged a look, blushing as Vanessa lifted up the last of the sweet liquid

"Almost done, this is all that's left, so you might wanna savor-" she cut herself off, pouring in the last pitcher without warning, flooding his mouth once again with the sweet sludge

Damien spluttered for a second, some of the shake dribbling down his mouth and onto his shirt, before getting a hang of it, taking fast, heavy gulps to keep up with the pace while Vanessa poured, giggling as she watched her partner's efforts to keep up

He closed his eyes once more as he felt himself become fuller and fuller, rubbing his hands in soothing circles over his now-exposed belly, feeling it grow bigger with each passing moment

Vanessa held her breath as she watched the last of the precious fattening shake flow down the funnel and into her blimping boyfriend

When it was all finished, she pulled the tube out, Damien in a daze as it left his mouth, before letting out a loud belch and a small groan, still rubbing his belly in a food-drunk state

There was so much of it in him that she could hear the faint sloshing of the shake in his gut as it bubbled and churned the thousands of calories worth of shake into more wonderful softness

The vampire cooed, completely enamored and glad to finally be able to massage his engorged belly, planting several kisses on it before working her way up to his face

"You did so well hon, you finished every single drop, I bet this feels nice hm?" She smiled ear to ear, watching her partner blush, a completely flustered mess

Vanessa leaned on his belly and brought herself close to his face, the shift in weight causing another belch to come out before Damien quickly closed his mouth, face reddening

Vanessa chuffed at his reaction, leaning in further as she kissed and licked the excess shake off of his soft face and neck

She reveled in his response, his small flustered noises making her heart flutter

"Th- * hff * thank you.." he panted, leaning in for a longer kiss, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her further into his belly. Vanessa squeaked, melting into his embrace, hearing his gut's protests to this new disturbance

Once their lips parted, Vanessa locked eyes with Damien before grabbing him by both pudgy hands and attempting to pull him into a standing position

He obeyed, though it took a second to adjust to the sloshing weight inside him, feeling like an oversized water balloon

He continued holding Vanessa's hand as she began to gently guide him out of the kitchen, leaving the cleanup for tomorrow

"V-VanesshuoOorp– Where * huff * are we g-* hic! * going..?"

"To bed, silly~! Can't really snuggle ya if you're sitting on a hard chair, now, can I~?"

"I brrrUp- guess no-ot.."

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

Though it took them a while to get all the way up the steps, Vanessa remained patient, giving loving words of encouragement as Damien clung to her, using his other hand to keep his belly from sloshing around too much while he walked

It was such an amazing relief when he planted himself back on the cushioned bed, his whole body sinking further into the edge where he sat, huffing and puffing

His belly was so heavy that he had to lean on his hands behind him on the bed to maintain his balance, the large mound moving up and down with each breath

The fabric of his shirt strained to contain the little bit of his belly that still remained covered, along with his plush moobs

Vanessa blushed, reaching behind her partner "This looks so tight, let me help you with that" She gingerly pulled the fabric of the shirt up, finally releasing his behemoth belly and allowing him to breathe a bit easier

Damien let out a chuffed sigh of relief as the burden was removed from him, his belly pushing out further in his lap as he relaxed

"I * hff * really needed * huff * that, thanks 'Nessa.." he sighed

"My pleasure, cutie" she hummed, giving him a peck on the forehead and ruffling his soft, white hair affectionately

There was a moment of silence as both retained eye contact before the albino spoke

"Yknow… I'm still feeling pretty hungry…" he said, a flirtatious tone in his voice as he patted his overstuffed gut with one hand, keeping the other on the mattress for balance

"O-oh??" Vanessa sputtered, her eyes widening

"* bHUurp- * Yeah… and I've got the * huff * perfect l-little morsel right * puff * hhere in front of me~" he slurred, grabbing Vanessa by the arms surprisingly fast for how full and dazed he seemed a moment ago, swinging them around and pinning her to the bed underneath his heavy gut

The vampire barely had a moment to react as she froze, her heart going at a mile a minute, processing what he had just said, and the position she was now in…

Though he held himself up firmly above her, his large belly hung low enough to still weigh her down a considerable amount

She just stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, a very rare smug look on his rounded face

"Gotta return the * hfff- * f-favor~"

Vanessa gasped as she completely melted at his touch while his warm lips began planting sloppy kisses all over her cheeks and neck

Vanessa shuddered in delight, feeling his warm breath on her skin

Suddenly she began feeling small gentle pinches on her neck and shoulders, before realizing he had been incorporating a few little love bites in between kisses…

God, he knew just how to make her melt

She just lay there, her hands sinking into the plush flesh of his chest, feeling as if she was being enveloped in a pleasantly heavy and warm pillow

"Woah… I hadn't realized how h-eavy you'd gotten, honey-" she breathed, her face redder than she thought possible

Damien momentarily paused, looking down at his partner in concern "O-oh? Is it too much? I-I'm not * hff * hurting you am I??"

"Oh no! No, no, it feels… r-really * hff * good, actually… it's perfect~"

"Oh, that's a * hff * r-relief, cause I'm having * huff * waaay too much fun makin' ya * brup- * blush~"

The bed creaked again as Damien shifted his weight, moving an arm up to support himself as he leaned down to kiss his love's forehead

* WHUMP *

Vanessa yelped as her body was enveloped by warm, soft flesh within seconds

Damien belched loudly as all of his weight fell onto his bloated belly… and onto his partner beneath him..

His pointy ear twitched as he heard a small, slightly muffled noise of pleasure coming from beneath his mountainous body before he felt several gentle squeezes to his love handles

Damien felt his face grow hot

There was a moment of stunned silence before he snapped out of it and peeled himself off of his lover, panting

The werewolf gave a flustered, nervous laugh, seeing the vampire's bright red face and wide eyes, her body unmoving as she caught her breath

"Y-you ok down there~?" He asked, stifling a giggle

"That… was amazing…." she sighed, reaching up to hold her face in her hands

"P-please keep going.." she pleaded "Your kisses felt nice…"

Damien melted, immediately giving into her request as he continued his affectionate display, still a bit clumsily as he worked through his food-drunk state

"You're probably.. * hff * the sweetest thing I've * hic! * ever tasted, love~" he cooed between another small bite "I might just get addicted~" he gave a low mischievous laugh as Vanessa made more flustered sounds and giggles

It was rare for Vanessa to be the one to end up so flustered she was speechless...

Damien sighed before leaning in to give her a soft kiss on the lips and carefully slumping onto the bed beside her, his belly sloshing from all the shake still inside it, a small burp coming out from the sudden movement

"I love you like this…" Vanessa finally spoke, her comment making Damien blush heavily, his round cheeks accentuated by the smile that spread across his face

"…Me too.."

The two shuffled closer to one another in bed, unspeaking as they embraced, bodies turned towards each other

The werewolf gently pulled his love into his soft body, humming in delight as he felt two small, cold hands graze his belly, rubbing in gentle circles, small gurgles and groans coming from the full belly of the lycanthrope

The pair lay there in comforting silence, the sound of each other's gentle breathing and low gurgles lulling them both into a warm, dreamless sleep

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hai :3 ABFUIJDSKGS

That's it XD Hope yall liked it, just don't expect much written stuff from me in the future, I'm much better at storytelling through a visual format than I am with written stuff, but I had fun writing this nonetheless!! Hope this blurb makes yall as feral for these two as I am BHFDSIJKGDSB

[toulousewayne]

Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 1

Bruce eat Peanut Butter from the jar and it drives Alfred mad. Has a kid it was the only thing that calmed Bruce down after his parents,but as an adult he still does it.

Bruce cannot cook in the kitchen, but he can grill just about anything and does it with minimal effort.

Dick, Bruce,Alfred,Steph and Duke are right handed. While, Babs, Jason, Damian, and Kate are left handed. Tim is ambidextrous. Damian hates it.

Damian is vegetarian, Dick and Babs will try different restaurants with him and some of Dick’s new favorite takeout is a vegan and vegetarian Asian restaurant in Uptown.

Alfred prefers Earl Grey over any other tea.

Tim got his GED,at first the he didn’t want to tell anyone but Damian found his mail and told him he was proud. But threatened him if he breathed a word to the others.

Duke sometimes get overwhelmed during the day patrol and other bats sometimes will randomly come by to check on him.

Bruce to his credit was still getting hang of being a father with Jason and Dick. Tim was more of a partner at first, but later on he became his son. He really got improve and do better with Damian. He’s still trying but at least that counts.

Jason does have the white tuff, however after speaking with Talia and Damian he learns it’s not a result of the pit. And it’s actually Vitiligo.

Stephanie is actually allergic to eggs, put loves them so much that everyone just carries Benadryl. Cass keeps her EpiPen.

Duke is the best swimmer out of his siblings.

Kate does not like desserts, she doesn’t have a big sweet tooth. Bruce however is a Cookie Monster.

Babs has had LASIK however she still wears her glasses to not strain them while looking at monitors all the time.

Alfred the Cat, loves Tim’s room more because of his window. It gets the best sunrises and sunsets, he enjoys the warmth from it.

Ace prefers to set at Bruce’s feet in the cave. Bruce enjoys his company.

Cass and Dick have dance classes together in the ballroom. Dick is surprisingly good at Ballet.

Jason will eat his siblings leftovers. Tim will get him half his PB&J and Jason will devour it in seconds.

Talia used to make food with her mother has a little girl and did the same with Damian. He tries to teach Bruce some of his favorite food. Poor Bruce isn’t very good at it but the enjoy the bonding.

Cass can identify which of her brothers is the closest by their scents. Dick has a vanilla and cedarwood smell,Jason smells like Grapefruit and Amber, Tim smells like French lavender, Duke has a grapefruit and Patchouli scent, and Damian smells like cinnamon.

Barbara likes when Cass and Damian make her handmade jewelry over being bought stuff. She wears a gold locket Cass gifted her everyday. And has a ring and charm bracelet that Damian gave her for birthday. She never takes these off.

Tim is allergic to shellfish.

Bruce cannot stand strawberry jam, he prefers grape much to Alfred’s horror.

Stephanie will stack plates, silverware and cups like a server. It’s habit she got from her Mom and hates leaving a mess for Alfred or any other server to clean.

Jason has smoked from time to time. But will snap if he sees his little brothers do it. Jason will Mother Hen them to death.

Alfred is the best marksmen with long ranges guns, Jason is the best at versatile shooting and Barbara is the best firearm shot.

Cass,Steph are the same height, both are an inch taller than Tim, Duke is to inches taller then them.

Tim and Damian are the artist of the family. Damian prefers classic art, like oil paintings, pottery, and marble sculptures. Tim prefers modern art, photography, stone sculptures. Diana takes them to her art gallery on the weekends.

Bruce is the slowest to text back, Jason and Damian ignore texts if they’re not emergencies,Tim emails the fastest, the only good testers are Steph, Duke, and Barbara. Dick will ignore your text and FaceTime you to ask you to repeat the question instead and Cass prefers a phone call.

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

I Forget Where We Were

1.2k/ joel miller x f!reader / MINORS DNI 

summary: life with Joel from the start. Be kind please- this is my first piece and has taken 6 months of courage🤍

Chapter Six: Time is Dancing

Hold it in, now let’s go dancing. I do believe we’re only passing through.

what to expect: Wholesome evenings with loverboy and the sweet precious angel baby. Unfortunately, we are it’s time for some angst

warnings: bad language i guess idk?😂fluff, dad!joel,lover boy joel, no specific physical description of reader, female reader (please let me know if there is anything I’m missing, I will elaborate as the series goes on) no outbreak, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is mid 40s), boyfriend!joel? i repeat boyfriend!joel, slight daddy!kink, showering together but I kept it clean, let me know if you want the filthy version however💁🏻‍♀️, Joel’s past may just bite him in the ass.

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

As you came out of the office, Joel and Sarah hung out of the truck windows, beeping and waving at you.

Laura, your work bestie, nudged you ‘Okay,now when are you planning on filling me in on the absolute hottie’

You waved back at Joel and kissed Laura on the cheek as you hugged her goodbye ‘Lunchtime, tomorrow.’

She squealed gleefully.

‘Love ya!’ You both shouted in unison and waved with your fingers.

Sarah was wriggling in her seat, so excited to see you& Joel got out the truck to kiss you hello. You wore cream coloured cigarette trousers, which sat above your ankles and complimented your anklet. This was paired with a blue and white striped shirt and your oversized tote and matching cream loafers. Joel had to bite his tongue, as he instantly fought the urge to tear your clothes off and devour you.

Sarah asked all about your day and you asked all about hers. ‘I wish I could come to work with you, it’s so much better than school’ Sarah sighed. 

‘My job is boring baby girl, you’d have more fun working with your Daddy’ you looked at Joel and squeezed his thigh.

‘All Daddy does his hit things with a hammer and screw wood into things’ Sarah sighed.

You cackled at the double entendre that Sarah didn’t quite understand. Joel rolled his eyes replying ‘At least I don’t stare at a screen all day pretending to get shit done.’

‘Oooooooh’ you and Sarah teased in unison.

‘That’s 10 bucks for the swear jar Mr Miller’ you tutted, taking two 5 dollar bills out his wallet, handing one to Sarah and tucking one in your purse.

Joel tried to pretend he was angry, but the way you flicked the hair of your shoulders and grinned at him cut through his tough exterior.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The three of you made it home and you helped Sarah with her homework whilst Joel mowed the lawn.

You greeted him with a beer when he came in, and kissed him, with a subtle lip bite. He growled quietly into your mouth and you started to make dinner whilst him and Sarah watched TV.

You danced around the kitchen dancing to Hozier, with a glass of red wine in hand. Joel leaned back on the sofa, straining his neck, just to watch you through the double doors that connected the kitchen to the living room. Sarah heard a song that you hummed whilst you painted her nails, she ran to see you and you picked her up and twirled her around on your hip and sang with her.

You both giggled quietly, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

‘Are you and Daddy having a sleepover tonight?’Sarah batted her eyelashes hoping you’d say yes.

Joel nodded eagerly at you.

‘Why don’t I go home, get my stuff and then I’ll come and stay?’ you crouched down beside Sarah and negotiated.

She ran a lap round the living room , elated at the fact she would get another bed time story with you.

‘I’ll see you soon’ you planted a kiss to her forehead and then held Joel before walking back home to grab your overnight bag and your car.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You pulled up outside and Joel ran to let you in. Sarah finished up her bath and you helped her brush her teeth.  You pottered around the house tidying up after dinner, and packed Sarah’s school bag, 

‘I could get used to having you around’ Joel swooned. 

‘You’d get bored of me before I have the chance to unpack’ you jested. 

The cogs in Joel’s head were turning as he thought of the perfect way to give you a spare key.

You read The Velveteen Rabbit to Sarah and Joel listened closely in the hallway, hidden out of view.

You tucked her up, kissed her goodnight and shut the door softly. Joel grabbed you around the waist, and pulled you into him.

‘Shall we get ready for a night of crappy TV?’ Joel began unbuttoning his shirt and lifted his faded black t shirt over his head, revealing an olive skinned stomach, chiselled down to his hips, and airbrushed in a layer of fine dark hair.

He pinned you against the banisters and pressed his lips against your neck as he carried you into his bathroom. He turned on the shower, and after bickering about the perfect temperature, Joel compromised and you had the shower how you liked it.

He lathered up his hands in your lavender shower gel, and washed every inch of your body. Intimately and delicately,placing soft kisses over your neck and chest. You wrapped your arms round him and stood under the rainfall, taking in his scent and letting the droplets fall from the bridge of his nose down your cheek.

You cupped Joel’s face in your hands, and traced his lips with your tongue. He grabbed a towel and wrapped you up in his arms. 

‘Let’s get you cosy, baby’ Joel whispered in your ear, and hooked his pinky under the towel and removed it from your body. He sat on the edge of the bath drying off, as he watched you like a hawk as you rubbed in some cocoa butter.

Joel went into his bedroom and grabbed his glasses and a throw blanket, and you met him downstairs on the sofa with two mugs of chamomile tea.

You sat down with your back to the arm of the chair and your legs wide. You patted your chest as invitation for Joel to lay on you. In your usual tv watching spot, you stroked Joel’s curls as he drew circles on your thighs. His hand fell limp after 20 minutes,a sign he was deep in sleep.

With extreme caution , you slid out from under Joel and headed to bed, where you fell asleep on your own.

It was 11:16pm, and in your absence, Joel woke up in a panic. He bounded up the stairs, and rolled into bed next to you. He took you in his big arms, swept your hair off your neck and behind your shoulders, and kissed you goodnight. His arms slumped over your waist, and he set an alarm on his phone for 5am for you to get up and get ready for work in time. 

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Joel’s phone flashed and buzzed with your morning alarm, as you slouched across him to turn it off.

You pressed the off button, and his lockscreen lit up. In front of the photo of him& Sarah, you noticed a notification that made your heart stop beating.

Mia:

‘Everything’s all sorted for my visit this weekend, we still on? Missing you🫶🏼

It must have been record timing between you reading that message and doing your hair and makeup and leaving for work, just to get out that house. Before you went,you checked on Sarah, ran down to make her lunch, making sure Joel realised that there was only lunch for one and you were long gone.

You signed a post it and left it on the fridge

‘Enjoy your lunch princess, and have a good day. Love you❤️’

‘Joel, send my love to Mia.’

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you pulled up to work, texting Laura to come down to the front and meet you for a coffee.

Incoming Call: Joel

Just as you expected, he would be awake and downstairs by now.

You silenced your phone, and filled Laura in on everything.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[alwaysmultiverse]

Tunnel Vision

Draco bumped his head yet again against the low ceiling. This had been happening ever since he entered the bloody tunnel behind Granger, and honestly, he had stopped counting after the fiftieth hit. He was currently on all fours with Granger's pretty little arse swaying in front of him in the dim light as they crawled.

"How much longer do we need to keep this up?" He groaned.

Granger's voice echoed back "Be patient, you idiot. How am I supposed to know?"

"I thought you had a plan before leading us into this death trap!"

Draco saw her brushing cobwebs out of her way before crawling in further.

"This isn't a death trap! It's a secret passage!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "And what secrets is it supposed to be hiding, may I ask?"

"I wouldn't be crawling through spiders if I had known, now would I?"

Draco groaned in frustration. "Speed up then, will you? Even if death is waiting for us on the other end, I'd rather prefer that than this hellish torture." He could practically hear her eye roll even though he couldn't see her face.

His wand was tucked snugly over his ear, the bright lumos illuminating Granger's denim covered arse. He couldn't help but appreciate muggle clothing. They certainly had a few tricks up their sleeves.

"I still can't see the other end. Either it's too dark or we have a long way to go." Hermione voice rang through the damp, musty walls.

"Why are you so interested in this tunnel?" He asked, irritated.

"It just popped out of nowhere. I've never seen it in the marauder's map."

"The what map?"

"Nevermind."

Draco decided that it was better to keep quiet and save his energy for crawling. He looked down at his grime covered fingers and ran a list of how many varieties of soap he would need to get himself clean again. He didn't realise Granger had stopped moving until his nose and mouth collided violently against her plump arse and she slipped forward with a surprised yelp that echoed down the path they came through. They fell down together in a tangled mess of limbs. So soft, was the only thought in his head when his chin bounced and came to rest on her bum. She harshly shoved him back and Draco frowned.

"I swear I want to take you right here on the floor." He confessed.

"How many times did you bump your head?"

"I stopped counting after fifty."

She huffed a laugh and got up on all fours again. "I think we've reached the end. There's a wooden board blocking the way out." She pushed with all her might and the wood went crumbling down.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief at the fresh night air that met his nose. Granger crawled out and Draco followed.

"Is this the forest?" He spun around.

"I think so..."

"You mean to tell me that we just crawled all the way to the forest from the castle?!"

Granger grinned sheepishly.

Draco looked around and an expanse of trees, grass and bushes caught his eyes, all washed with the rich indigo paint of the night. A beautiful lake rippled in the starlight; the moon a beautiful crescent in the centre. Granger went and stood above the water mirroring the night sky; the light from her wand making her glow like fireflies in a glass jar. Draco went and stood beside her. He glanced back at the hollow trunk of the dead tree they had climbed out. They were all alone.

He decided to take a chance. Threading his fingers through hers, he caught her gaze and smiled. His heart fluttered when she smiled back. He dipped his head and kissed her - soft and sweet. He felt her smile against his lips and his heart bloomed like a fragrant night blossom bathed in moonlight. Blinding white and pure. Just like her love.

"Do you intend to keep your promise?" She asked after surfacing for air.

"I do, but...", he fell backwards and thumped onto the dewy grass, "my knees and back hurt like hell."

Hermione laughed. "Later, then." She said and lay down beside him, resting her hand on his chest and her palm over his dancing heart.

"But definitely tonight." He said and pressed his lips to hers to seal the deal.

[ad-caelestia]

Protection & Warding ⚔️ [long post]

A guide on protecting yourself and your home. 

Personal Protection

Wear an amulet on your person - can be made from man-made or natural materials so long as its intent is to protect

Keep a protective crystal in your pocket

Craft a small protective spell jar and keep on your person

Anoint yourself with a protective oil

Place an energetic shield around yourself 

Place a glamour on yourself to go unnoticed in the presence of harmful or negative energies

Carry a piece of iron on your person

Bathe with a wash made from protective herbs

Sleep with a sachet of herbs under your pillow or hanging above your bed to prevent nightmares

Prayers and offerings to your patron deity

Hang a protective amulet from the rearview mirror in your vehicle for safe travels

Home & Hearth Protection

Hang rose stems with thorns intact above the entrance of your home

Hang an upside down horseshoe above the entrance of your home (some lore states you should hang the horseshoe right-side-up)

Hang wind chimes or bells outside of your home

Create a “Witch Bottle” and bury in your front yard, or in a potted plant on your porch

Create a “Witch’s Ladder” or “Witch Ball” and hang it either inside or outside of your home

Hang imagery of protective symbols outside or around your home

Burn protective incense in your home

Create a room spray made from protective oils and spray around your home

Create a protective wash and use it to clean your windows, door frames, and tile/wooden floors 

Use the wash mentioned above to “paint” symbols of protection on the outside of your front door, on your porch, etc. 

Place a protective crystal at each corner inside your home

Place a small glass of salt at each corner inside your home

Hammer 3 iron nails into your front door

Create a protective powder and sprinkle around the perimeter of your home - alternately, sprinkle outside of your front and back door

Create a sachet filled with protective herbs and crystals - keep inside or outside of your home, in your vehicle, etc.

Hang mirrors inside of your home

Place a crystal grid at the center of your home using protective crystals

Call upon your patron deity to protect your home and those who reside in it

Protective Symbols & Items

Pentacle

Triquetra 

Witch’s Knot

Algiz (Elhaz) rune

Vegvisir

Helm of Awe

Mjolnir

Glyph of the Moon, Mars, or Saturn

Eye of Horus

Ankh

Crossed Swords

Iron nails

Railroad spikes

Thorns

War Water

Flying Devil Oil

Third & Fifth Pentacle of Saturn; Third & Sixth Pentacle of Jupiter; Sixth Pentacle of Mars; Second, Third, & Fifth Pentacle of the Moon

Crystals

Agate

Amethyst - protection against psychic attacks and while traveling

Angel Aura Quartz - spiritual protection

Apophyllite

Aqua Aura Quartz - protection against psychic attacks

Aquamarine - protection while traveling via water

Astrophyllite

Aventurine

Beryl - protection while traveling

Blue Goldstone

Bowenite

Bronzite

Bustamite

Catlinite - spiritual protection

Carnelian - protection from negative emotions

Celestite - emotional protection

Chalcopyrite

Chrysoberyl

Citrine - protection from nightmares

Clear Quartz

Diamond

Dravite

Eudialyte

Fire Agate

Fluorite - protection against psychic attacks

Galaxite

Garnet

Indicolite

Infinite Stone

Jade

Jasper

Jet

Lapis Lazuli

Lepidolite

Malachite - protection during pregnancy and childbirth

Moonstone - protection during pregnancy, childbirth, and while traveling via water

Mother of Pearl - protection for children

Nuumite

Obsidian

Onyx

Peridot

Pyrite

Rose Quartz - protection during pregnancy and childbirth

Ruby - protection of the home and hearth

Salt

Schorl

Shungite

Smithsonite

Smoky Quartz

Snowflake Obsidian

Sugilite

Tanzanite

Tiger’s Eye

Turquoise

Vauxite - protection from nightmares

Botanicals

Acacia, Aconite, Acorn (protection from lightning), African Violet, Ague, Alder (protection for the deceased), Alfalfa (protection from hunger and poverty), Alkanet (protection from snakebites and the fear of snakes), Aloe (protection from household accidents), Amaranth (protection from bullets), Amber, Angelica, Anise Seeds, Ash (protection from drowning and while traveling), Aspen (protection against thieves), Bamboo, Barley, Basil, Bay Laurel (protection from lightning), Bay Leaf (protection for your home and family, protection against baneful magic), Belladonna, Bergamot (protection from illness), Bilberry Bark, Birch (protection from lightning and infertility), Black Cohosh (protection from accidents and sudden death), Black Haw, Black Pepper, Blackberry, Bladderwrack (protection while traveling), Blessed Thistle, Bloodroot, Blue Violet, Blueberry, Boneset, Brimstone, Buckeye (protection against arthritis), Buckwheat, Cactus, Calamus, Calendula, Carnation, Caraway, Cascara Sagrada (protection against baneful magic), Catnip (protection while sleeping), Cedar (protection from lightning), Celandine, Chia, Chives, Chrysanthemum, Cilantro (protection for gardeners), Cinnamon, Cinquefoil (protection for loved ones on a journey), Clove (protection for babies), Clover, Coconut, Comfrey (protection while traveling), Coriander, Corn, Cotton, Cramp Bark, Cranberry, Cumin, Curry, Cypress, Daisy (protection for babies), Dandelion Root (protection while sleeping), Datura, Devil’s Bit, Devil’s Claw, Dill, Dogwood, Dragon’s Blood, Ebony, Elder (protection for the deceased), Elm (protection from lightning), Eucalyptus, False Unicorn Root (protection during pregnancy and childbirth), Fennel, Fern, Feverfew (protection against accidents and cold/flu), Figwort (protection for your home), Flaxseed (protection for your home, protection against baneful magic), Fleabane, Foxglove (protection for your home and garden), Frankincense, Gardenia, Garlic, Geranium, Ginger, Ginseng, Gorse (protection against baneful magic), Hawthorn (protection from lightning), Heather (protection against violent crimes), Heliotrope, Henna (protection from illness), Hickory, High John the Conqueror, Holly, Horseradish, Hyssop (protection for property against burglars and trespassers), Irish Moss (protection while traveling), Ivy, Juniper, Kava Kava, Lady Slipper (protection against baneful magic), Larch (protection against theft), Larkspur, Laurel, Lavender, Leek, Lemon, Lemon Verbena (protection of your home, protection from lightning and storms), Lettuce, Lime, Lotus, Lucky Hand Root (protection while traveling), Mandrake, Marigold (protection while sleeping), Marjoram, Marshmallow Root, Mimosa, Mint, Mistletoe (protection from lightning and fire), Mullein (protection from nightmares and baneful magic), Nutmeg, Oak Moss, Olive Leaf, Onion, Papyrus, Parsley (protection for your home), Peat Moss, Peony, Periwinkle (protection against snakes and poison), Pimpernel, Pine, Pineapple, Plantain (protection from snake bites and jealousy), Quince, Radish, Raspberry Leaf, Red Clover (protection for pets), Rhubarb, Rice, Rowan, Rue, Sage, Sandalwood, Saw Palmetto, Sea Salt, Sheep Sorrel (protection from heart disease), Slippery Elm, Snapdragon, Solomon’s Seal, Spanish Moss, Spearmint, St. John’s Wort (protection from baneful magic, lightning, and fire), Straw Flower, Sunflower, Tangerine, Thistle, Toadflax, Tonka Bean (protection from disease), True Unicorn Root (protection from baneful magic), Valerian, Venus Fly Trap, Violet, Willow, Witch Hazel, Wood Aloe, Wood Betony, Woodruff, Wormwood (protection against dangerous roads while traveling), Yerba Santa, Yew, Yucca (protection of your home)

Metals

Chromium

Lead

Iron

Nickel

Pewter

Steel

Titanium

Zinc

Lunar Phases

Waxing - to attract protective energy and positivity

Full - generalized protection 

Waning - to banish negativity, thus protecting the caster

Planets

Moon

Mars

Saturn

Days of the Week

Monday

Tuesday

Saturday

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙳-𝙲𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰

[witch--tips]

📝 WITCH TIP 📝

This is something to make when you’re bored/want to do something witchy, and also for whenever you are again in the future.

Make a list on a physical piece of paper (or print it out after). On that list—and feel free to make it LONG, and also know that you can add onto it again whenever—include everything witchy youve ever wanted to do, “chores” that are part of your craft, things you like to do that are even just vaguely related to witchcraft and your practice, types of magic youve never tried out or want to improve on, etc. Big, daunting things and small, minuscule, two-second things. Make a huge list.

Cut out every individual bullet point in that list. Fold them all up, put them in a jar (heres a good use for any of those old candle containers or spell jars), and whenever youre feeling bored or want to do something witchy, pull out one of those pieces of paper. Feel free to re-pull if you don’t like the one you got. Then, do it. You can throw the paper out when you’re done or put it back in the jar whenever you want.

You could also do the same thing online using one of those spin the wheel websites too. Since this is all left up to chance, you may also ask a deity or spirit or the universe or whatever beforehand to make sure you get the most relevant/helpful task.

Under the cut I’ll put some examples of things to put on your list, in case you want help!

Try bibliomancy

Find some nice rocks outside

Do a big cleansing

Make a return-to-sender ward

Water all your plants and have a conversation with them

Enchant your coat for extra warmth, comfort and protection

Paint your nails using color magic

Do a spell and somehow include your ceiling fan

Come up with an emoji spell

Ground yourself

Do a spell on your dishwasher so that everything that is cleaned in it is enchanted to make all the food it touches delicious

Jinx that pen Ronald is always annoyingly clicking

Enchant your pillows for good sleep and pleasant dreams

Leave an offering out for all nearby spirits. Just to be nice

Open a window

Close/ward your mirror

Clean your altar/room/sacred space

Do a giant ritual for someone. A deity, spirit, ancestors, Earth, or even yourself. A ritual about being grateful and happy, not even necessarily to accomplish anything aside from feeling good and/or saying “thanks”

Enchant your phone case for protection, both from breaking your phone and from thieves

Enchant your hairbrush for healthy and good looking hair

Enchant your glasses for clarity

Enchant your debit card for attracting money

Spin around, look up, and the first thing you see? Enchant it

Try cloud divination

Look up different types of knots and practice doing them for future knot magic

Make a decoy poppet for yourself (so unwanted/negative energies attack it instead of you) (remember to do wards so those energies can get in but can’t get out)

Shuffle your playlist and interpret the first song that comes up as a form of divination

Redo one of your wards more powerful than before

Clean out that old spell jar

Set out some water for SUN water

Watch a movie with a witch

Listen to the wind

Haphazardly fold a piece of paper many times, make random cuts into it, unfold it, and interpret the resulting form as a method of divination

Pet your pet

Do a self-confidence spell

Plan an outfit using color magic

Sew a sigil into a blanket

Get out a pendulum and talk to it

[disastermages]

[read it on ao3]

Lan Wangji does not swear. Not frequently. Not unless the situation truly calls for it, but he almost swears and drops his phone as it starts vibrating, his brother’s contact photo flashing up on the screen while the shower roars from behind the closed door. He’s long since cleaned up the broken glass and the drops of blood from the night before, but Lan Huan’s call makes him drop the dustpan, broken glass raining down on the floor yet again.

“Ge,” Lan Wangji greets, pressing the phone between his neck and shoulder as he stoops to grab the dustpan and restart the process of sweeping. He’s grateful that Lan Huan cannot see him, it would make it harder to conceal the frustration and everything else whirling at him. 

He can’t remember how long Wei Ying has been in the shower, scrubbing at his paint-ruined hair for who knows how long. The hot water has almost certainly run out, but Lan Wangji can’t bring himself to knock on the door, not when the spirits punished Wei Ying because Lan Wangji dared to fight back.

“Didi, you’ll never guess what I recovered on a nighthunt!” Lan Huan sounds excited, but Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to match his brother’s energy, the glass tinkling as Lan Wangji sweeps it up while Lan Huan sets up the story about the new artifact he’d found.

“It’s a haunted pickle jar, could you ever imagine such a thing? According to some of the disciples here, one of their old sect masters used it to imprison his teacher.” There’s an air of amusement in Lan Huan’s voice, an air that usually puts Lan Wangji at ease, but this time, it only makes Lan Wangji’s eyebrows screw together, broom and dustpan held carefully in one hand while the other clings to the stair rail.

He’d managed to hurt the Yiling Patriarch earlier, it wouldn’t be easy for the Patriarch to gather up enough energy to push him down the stairs or trip him yet, but Lan Wangji wouldn’t put it past him to try.

“Why would the old sect master put his teacher in a pickle jar?” The question comes out numb and careless, meant to show Lan Huan that Lan Wangji was listening to him. Distantly, Lan Wangji hears the water stop above his head as he rounds into the kitchen. A pang of guilt rings through him as he tries to guess whether or not Wei Ying had managed to wash all the paint out or if his hair was truly ruined. 

“It’s hard to say,” Lan Huan says, and Lan Wangji can hear the opening and closing of his car door, the brief tone of the door being left open ringing through the phone. “Jingyi isn’t the best researcher yet, he only found two reports, one saying that the sect master and his teacher hated each other, and another was a story called “Regret of Chunshan”, but he wouldn’t tell me what the story was about.”

“Perhaps someone could perform Empathy with the spirit attached to the pickle jar.” Lan Wangji says it without thinking, regretting it the second he hears his brother’s side of the call go deathly quiet. He can almost picture the way Lan Huan’s eyes close and the way his shoulders lay back against the seat. 

“Empathy wouldn’t be the most practiced way of going about it.” Lan Huan tries to keep his tone gentle, Lan Wangji can tell when he doesn’t want to argue and he hates that it puts him on edge. “Please don’t misunderstand me, didi, Wei Ying’s methods are revolutionary, but the long term effects haven’t been studied yet. And what if a possession came of it?” Lan Wangji feels himself frowning before he can stop himself. Lan Huan isn’t making any new points, they’ve both made their arguments about this before. Lan Wangji knows that he’s supposed to point out that Wei Ying himself has used it several times and hasn’t ever been possessed or hurt because of his own method.

But Lan Wangji cannot make the point about possession anymore, even if he doesn’t know how the Yiling Patriarch wound his roots around Wei Ying. 

“Brother is right, I should not have mentioned it.”

He shouldn’t have done it, but the words left Lan Wangji’s mouth. They’re hanging in the airspace between Lan Wangji and his brother, and he can’t take them back. He was childish, but he does not want to make himself apologize for it.

“How is Wei Ying, A-Zhan? How are you both?” Lan Huan does not enjoy their disagreements, so he sidesteps this one as carefully as he can. Lan Wangji can hear the tiredness in his voice.

“Wei Ying is well.” Lan Wangji answers, and it’s not a complete lie, at least not yet. “He’s made several improvements to the house.” Yet again, it’s not a lie, Wei Ying had shown him photos from before he’d laid a hand on the house. Every bit of graffiti has been covered by paint that is very purposefully neither neutral nor impersonal. “He has let me help.”

Being allowed to help might be a lie, but Wei Ying let him pick out some of the colors to replace the ruined mural, and he’d been allowed to help with dishes and smaller jobs. He’d even been asked to hold the ladder for Wei Ying once. But Wei Ying wouldn’t let him lift a finger for the heavier jobs, he only allowed Lan Wangji to watch.

Lan Wangji means to say more, he means to eliminate any kind of doubt from Lan Huan’s mind, but the words turn to ash in Lan Wangji’s mouth as Wei Ying drags himself into the kitchen. His hair is still dripping down his shoulders and back, with dried paint still clinging to whole locks of it. Whole sections without paint have already begun to dry, damaged and brittle and sticking out everywhere.

Wei Ying says nothing while Lan Huan's voice turns into a thin buzz in Lan Wangji’s ear, his chin resting on his crossed arms. Without meaning to, Lan Wangji interrupts him and rushes through his goodbye, promising to catalog the pickle jar when he returns home, whenever that would be. He abandons his phone on the kitchen counter, nearly letting it fall into the trash can with the broken glass.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji calls him softly, watching the way Wei Ying’s eyes stare blankly ahead, not seeing the rest of the kitchen in front of him.

“I’m gonna have to cut it all off.” 

The words are without anger, without sadness, devoid of anything beyond acceptance, even as Lan Wangji comes forward, his hand already reaching out. He isn’t sure what he means to do with it, whether he means to rest his hand somewhere on Wei Ying’s arm or the table he’s all but wallowing on. 

He hadn’t spent all that much time looking at Wei Ying’s hair, not when they were younger, and not now, until it had been ruined in an attempt to punish the both of them with the other.

“I could cut it,” Lan Wangji offers. He tries to stroke his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair as gently as he can, but he gets caught by knots and tangles that wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for him. It drives a cruel icicle into his chest. “I could try to make it look nice.”

“It doesn’t have to look nice, it just can’t look like some ghosts dumped paint all over it.” Wei Ying doesn’t react to Lan Wangji’s hand, even when one of his fingers gets stuck and the knot won’t let it go.

Parts of Lan Wangji scream at him to wrap his arms around Wei Ying and hold him until something comes, whether it be sadness or anger, but he holds himself back. He forces himself to settle for hanging in Wei Ying’s space, his hands hanging dumbly by his sides. He wishes words were easier, he wishes something would come out of his mouth, if only to break the silence.

He wishes Wei Ying would blame him. He wishes Wei Ying would lash out and push him away. He wishes Wei Ying would reach out and touch him, however minimally.

It takes Lan Wangji a moment too long to see the tears as they tumble down Wei Ying’s cheeks, mixing into the water droplets, but he still can’t make himself move or speak, though his fingers twitch. 

He did this.

He was the one who came and he was the one the Yiling Patriarch attacked.

He was the one who struck back at the Yiling Patriarch, and he was the one who brought this retaliation.

This is his fault.

“Wei Ying, I am sorry.” Lan Wangji says, dropping onto his knees and forcing the words past the tangle in his throat. His own eyes, wide and unseeing, stare straight ahead, focusing on one long white thread that dangles from Wei Ying’s ripped jeans. He hadn’t bought them like that, he made those holes himself through hours and hours of hard work.

Wei Ying still does not touch him, nor does he turn to look at Lan Wangji, but that does not stop him from sitting back, the chair creaking with the shifting of his weight. “Can you really make it look nice?” Wei Ying’s hand shakes as he raises it to touch the ends of his hair, the roughness making him frown and drop the strands he’d only just touched. 

It isn’t forgiveness, it isn’t even absolution, but it still makes Lan Wangji start where he kneels, his face tilting up to look at Wei Ying as he scrubs at his face with the heel of one hand.

“Mn. Does Wei Ying have scissors?” Lan Wangji would do his best. He would be more careful than he is when he trims his own hair, he would do far better than any of the at home haircuts his uncle ever gave his brother and himself. 

The scissors they find aren’t ideal for cutting hair, but they’re better than the kitchen scissors that Wei Ying had originally suggested, but they’re sharp enough, despite Wei Ying using them to cut anything and everything, from twine to outline a flower bed, to wallpaper, to the contact paper that lined the cabinets and shelves. 

Lan Wangji doesn’t allow Wei Ying to help as he drags one of the chairs out onto the back porch, the space narrow and crowded from Wei Ying’s past and future projects.This is the very least he can do, even as Wei Ying watches him from the threshold of the back door, a tired kind of interest clinging to his features.

It takes nearly fifteen minutes of bargaining and rearranging for Lan Wangji to leave enough room for himself to move and Wei Ying to sit, but those fifteen minutes couldn’t have prepared him for he way Wei Ying peels off his shirt, midmorning humidity making the fabric sticky enough to cling to Wei Ying’s tanned skin. 

Lan Wangji has to remind himself not to stare, even as a kind of hunger resurfaces in his very core, though that hunger fades just a little as he begins to work, the heat of his cheeks cooling as the scissors cut through the parts of Wei Ying’s hair that are still stained with paint. Red, yellow, orange and blue, all of them faded, fall to their feet while Lan Wangji works, a concentrated frown on his face.

Damage follows after the colors on the floor, the strands almost breaking beneath the bite of the scissors and making the both of them wince. Lan Wangji has to thread Wei Ying’s hair between his fingers to find them as those damaged strands start to fall away, carding through again and again until there’s only the familiar softness that ought to be there.

“I will not leave it like this,” Lan Wangji explains as Wei Ying turns on his front facing camera. Neither of them had a hand mirror to look at what remained, and Lan Wangji had forgotten his phone inside, “I only wanted you to see how much was left.” It’s more than either of them thought there would be, with one side longer than the other, but Lan Wangji had been careful. He’d been determined to only take away what was necessary.

Lan Wangji means to come stand in front of Wei Ying, to start the work of making his hair look as nice as he could, but he trips.

Lan Wangji trips over the leg of the chair and feels Wei Ying’s hands pulling at him, trying to keep him from hitting the ground, but he only succeeds at lessening the blow, pulling Lan Wangji between his open legs while Lan Wangji sits back on his knees, trying to collect himself. His own long hair is in his face for just a moment too long.

Heat flares in his cheeks again and his eyes grow wide as he comes to terms with where he’s sitting, on his knees between Wei Ying’s legs. He can’t help the way his mouth falls open, words of any sort refusing to come as he blinks and forces himself to stand up. Wei Ying tries to help him, his hands catching Lan Wangji’s arms. They’re too warm, too big, too steady on Lan Wangji as he finally straightens himself, picking up the scissors from where they lay on the floor. 

Neither of them say a word as Lan Wangji puts himself to work again, cutting Wei Ying’s hair into something presentable, something he could go to the hardware store with. All of it would be more forgivable if Lan Wangji didn’t have to take Wei Ying’s face into his hands and turn his head more than once. It felt too… Too intimate. Too close to something they weren’t. Too close to something Lan Wangji has scolded himself for daydreaming about. 

Wei Ying’s hands don’t stay still, he clenches them and unclenches them against his thighs, he tangles his fingers in the loose strings of the holes at his knees, once or twice, Lan Wangji even thinks Wei Ying might be reaching for him, only to have a stray hair be plucked off his shirt, brown eyes staring up at Lan Wangji’s face as if Wei Ying expected to be swatted away. 

But Lan Wangji couldn’t ever bring himself to swat Wei Ying’s hands away, not unless Wei Ying did something unforgivable, like chasing him with a bug. Only then would Lan Wangji slap his hands away. 

When Lan Wangji finishes, Wei Ying’s phone comes out again, checking over Lan Wangji’s best work with a smile on his face. Lan Wangji almost smiles himself, but he manages to bite it back as he sets about brushing hair from Wei Ying’s shoulders and the chair he’d been sitting in. He’d have to sweep it off properly before it could come back inside. 

“You really weren't lying when you told me you’d make it look nice.” A grin has found its way back to Wei Ying’s face as he stands up, trapping Lan Wangji between his own body and the narrow space behind the chair, whether he means to or not.

“I do not lie.” Lan Wangji says, and he mostly means it. He has not lied to Wei Ying. He would not lie to Wei Ying. He doesn’t want to, not when Wei Ying is still smiling at him like he is. It takes everything in Lan Wangji not to reach forward and let his fingers brush against the ends of Wei Ying’s hair, his stomach still clenching around nerves. “Do you truly like it?”

“You did a great job, Lan Zhan, I mean it.” Wei Ying says in a low, soft kind of voice, “I thought I was gonna have to shave it all off, but you did it way better than I ever could.” Lan Wangji’s hand finds the back of the chair against Wei Ying’s praise, nerves giving way to something kinder, something that feels similar to relief.

If he were a bolder man, Lan Wangji might thank Wei Ying for his praise, he might even say something in return, something about how Wei Ying could go out wearing the worst clothes and the silliest hairstyle he could manage and still look fine just as long as he smiled, but Lan Wangji is not bold. Lan Wangji is not bold and he forces himself to keep those words tucked against his chest, though he can’t stop his own smile from blooming on his face.

“I should clean up,” Lan Wangji says the words as gently as he can, wanting nothing more than to put his hand on Wei Ying’s bare arm, but he forces himself to settle for a glance, unhidden and unapologetic as he lets his eyes scan down the length of Wei Ying’s torso, from his shoulders, to his chest, to the thin trail of hair that leads further down.

For a moment, neither of them move and neither of them speak. Wei Ying’s shirt hangs in his hand, limp and defeated. Lan Wangji wants to press it against his chest and breathe in the scent of Wei Ying as it clings to the shirt, haunting it like a much kinder ghost.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying starts, but says nothing else, the whole of his body leaning just a little closer to Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji echoes back at him, his eyes flicking away from the waistband of Wei Ying’s jeans to meet his eyes. Heat blooms against Lan Wangji’s skin as one of Wei Ying’s hands curls around his wrist, the gentle seizure of it a stark contrast from the brutal grip that had left Lan Wangji with dark blue bruises. Dark blue bruises that Wei Ying traces over with a thumb now.

“How come you didn’t tell your brother about what the Yiling Patriarch did to you?” Wei Ying doesn’t let go of Lan Wangji, not for a moment, but his grasp never tightens. It never even threatens to. Shame blows the grin off of Wei Ying’s face like a candle, the light around them fading as clouds start to gather over the sky, “I didn’t mean to listen in, but you were on the phone and I didn’t want to leave you alone any longer than I already did.”

“My brother would’ve wanted me to come home, and if I did not come on my own, he would have come to fetch me.” Lan Wangji says, the words tasting bitter as he takes the risk of letting his other hand cover Wei Ying’s where it still hangs onto his wrist. “I am not ready to leave Wei Ying.” Wei Ying watches their hands, nodding along with Lan Wangji until almost the very end, then Lan Wangji has no choice but to watch something tired settle into Wei Ying’s face.

“Lan Zhan… If he… If I ever hurt you again, even if I don’t mean to, even if he takes over again, you have to tell someone. Promise me.” Lan Wangji isn’t sure he means to do it, but Wei Ying pulls him forward, his eyes turning to liquid amber, “I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again, I never wanted to hurt you in the first place, so please, promise me, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s pleas threaten to smother him as thunder rumbles overhead, the breeze picking up around them.

Nothing can stop Lan Wangji from pressing his hand against Wei Ying’s cheek now, not even himself as he frowns, trying to think of ways to soothe Wei Ying’s nerves. “Where did Wei Ying go while the Patriarch was in control?” Lan Wangji asks without promising anything, his thumb rolling over the swell of Wei Ying’s cheek. Wei Ying squeezes his eyes shut against the question at first, shaking his head, but never shaking Lan Wangji’s hand away.

“I thought…” Wei Ying starts and opens his eyes as he drags a breath inwards, “I remember thinking about how you were probably going to go to bed soon, so I wanted to go up and say goodnight, but you were still in the shower, so I was going to wait, it’s like a dream from there.” Lan Wangji waits patiently, finally shaking Wei Ying’s hand off his wrist to stroke his hair back from his face. “I remember I was in the bathroom with you, but you were behind the shower curtain and you kept calling me, but I couldn’t answer, you couldn’t hear me.”

The first few droplets of rain splatter against the ground and Wei Ying lurches forward, letting himself be caught by Lan Wangji. “I thought you were messing with me.” Wei Ying groans as the floodgates finally open, buckets of rain falling upon the ground all at once. They aren’t even safe under the porch roof, cold rain is already sinking into Lan Wangji’s back.

“And then you woke up.” Lan Wangji finishes for him, though not unkindly, his arms fully wrapped around Wei Ying now, the touch far more than he’s used to.

“And then I woke up.” Wei Ying confirms, “I woke up and you were hurt, so you have to promise me, alright?” Wei Ying’s forehead thumps against Lan Wangji’s shoulder as the rain thunders down, drowning out all the other noise around them. 

“I promise.” Lan Wangji murmurs, his lips brushing against Wei Ying’s temple with each word.

But he would not leave Wei Ying behind.

Not again.

[jazzmckay]

oh! kiss meme, adoribull, 36 :)

36. …to give up control.

excellent prompt, tysm!! it was a fun challenge :> i totally meant to write smut, because obviously, but then my brain went places and now here's this sort of abstract interpretation of the prompt. i should still write the smut tho. it's what they deserve.

so, featuring: dorian pining and sorting through Tevinter Baggage, and dorian & sera friendship because i love them your honour.

***

Dorian stands at the window of his library nook, a book balanced on one palm to act as a guise. His attention is not on the page of yet another borderline useless tome, but through the foggy glass that grants him a view of the courtyard below. The portcullis has been cranked open, where a couple dozen mounts are saddled and ready, their riders taking their places. At the front, The Iron Bull pulls himself onto his massive Frostback elk, then calls something to the others gathered around him.

Dorian wonders what Bull is saying, but it was his own decision to remain at a distance rather than seeing the Chargers off.

When subtly pressed, Adaar divulged that they would be cleaning raiders out of the Hinterlands. That’s not overly far. Better than crossing Orlais to the Wastes, certainly. They won’t be gone so long.

With a soft sigh, Dorian turns from the window, not wanting to watch them leave. He makes a conscious effort to actually read the passage that his unseeing eyes roved over and over while he was utterly distracted watching the Chargers gear up and get ready to go.

In the end, he wishes he hadn’t bothered with the book. No better than drivel. Dorian pushes the book back onto the shelf, and decides he would be better served finding a different distraction.

*

The first time Rilienus leaned in for a kiss, Dorian turned his face away, receiving upon his neck what was meant for his lips. He’d wanted to kiss Rilienus, he’d wanted that and much, much more—more than they could ever have together. Dorian already knew what was planned for both of them, and it was only a matter of time.

He should not get attached. (He was already attached.) He should not allow himself to consider what-ifs. (He had already wondered if Rilienus would risk as much as Dorian would for a chance at true happiness.) Giving someone so much sway over his heart is a terrifying, dangerous thing. (Luckily—or unluckily—Dorian does not scare easily.)

Rilienus didn’t push the matter. In time, Dorian still ended up learning the shape and taste of his lips anyway.

What a tragedy, that.

*

“Bet it takes you so long to get out of those buckles it counts as edging.”

Dorian snorts inelegantly. He will blame that on the crude southern wine they’re drinking tonight. “If you fell asleep in the stables, the horses would mistake your hair for hay.”

Sera wiggles her toes as she laughs. Her foot is braced upon Dorian’s thigh, and he’s trying his darnedest to keep his hand steady enough to paint her toenails with grace despite how sloppy they’ve gotten over the course of the night. It’s more than late; the tavern around them has emptied, leaving them to hide away in Sera’s wonderful little nest.

“Do ‘Vints take classes in school for how to be prissy?”

“As a matter of fact, we do.” Dorian carefully sweeps the brush along the curve of Sera’s nail, finishing off the smallest toe. “At least I retained something of my education.”

She huffs and kicks him with her other foot, upon which the paint is already dry. “Not a good thing! They teach you nug dung!”

Dorian chuckles under his breath as he caps the paint jar and slides closer to her on the bench, repositioning her legs across his lap. He grabs their current bottle of wine to take a mouthful of it, then rests back in the many pillows Sera has amassed over the months. It’s surprisingly comfortable. More comfortable than lying alone in his own room.

As he drinks, she waves her foot around, inspecting it. “Now I’ve gotta act like an elfy elf and walk around barefoot so everyone can see.”

“You do not,” Dorian says. He hands her the bottle back. “They should please you first and foremost, before anyone else. Or you should finally sleep with that Valo-Kas you’ve been drooling over.”

“Oi.” She nudges him with her leg. “Don’t get on my arse about drooling.”

Groaning, Dorian tips his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes. Sera was with them and Adaar when The Iron Bull so casually announced their affairs, completely shameless and lacking in tact, as if he had nothing to hide.

It should not have been stirring. But to hear a man publicly address their budding relationship, and to revel in it? That was new and rousing, even if equally frustrating, as Dorian’s inclination is still to remain quiet about such things. Being open about his affections is a fairy tale.

The Iron Bull didn’t seem to think it so complicated.

The wine bottle gets pushed against his shoulder. “Can see you tying your head into knots,” Sera says softly, half in empathy, half sleepily.

Dorian accepts the bottle and takes a drink. It’s light in his grasp—almost finished. They should probably call it a night, but Dorian is quite comfortable exactly where he is, here with Sera draped over him and the scent of wine and varnish in the air.

“It’s been a fortnight,” Dorian says. I miss him, is what he means.

“Didn’t seem too fussed about him leavin’.”

No, of course not. Despite The Iron Bull’s lack of subtlety, their relationship is still largely a secret—Dorian has no doubt that the knowledge has spread a little, but not too broadly, for which he is grateful. Having attachments, he has learned, is risky, and it is even riskier for those attachments to be known by others. He has made it more complicated by growing fond of a qunari, even if said qunari recently became Tal-Vashoth. That distinction would not matter a jot to people like his parents.

Not that he particularly cares what they think anymore, but old habits die hard.

“Bit daft, if you ask me,” Sera continues. She pauses to yawn, then burrows into the cushions. “You find someone like that, you should be yelling it from the rooftops.”

Dorian’s chest clenches, and he curls his fingers tighter around the neck of the wine bottle. If only it could be so simple to let joy override reason, to think nothing of consequences, to not only let someone have all of him, but to let the world know it to be the case. To be open about one’s affections is to invite everyone else’s opinion, to invite all manner of weakness and vulnerabilities. This is a lesson Dorian learned the hard way.

He lifts the bottle and drinks the last of it, setting it on the floor with the one they already emptied earlier. How nice it would be, to have Sera’s certainty and boldness when it comes to matters of love.

“You are far wiser than your conduct suggests,” Dorian says, as light-hearted as all their jabs at each other.

When Sera doesn’t respond, he glances over at her, finding her with her face squished into the pillows, lips slightly parted as she breathes in an even ebb and flow. Dorian can’t help but smile to himself at the sight. To think she once looked upon him with wariness.

Carefully, Dorian gathers her legs again, slipping out from beneath her and laying them back down on the cushions. He is in no rush to return to his own room, so he simply sits back down on the other end of the bench, removes his boots, and fits his legs up alongside hers, letting the wine and the soft rhythm of her breathing lull him to sleep.

*

Adaar and Josephine have become sickeningly sweet in recent days. They greet guests and diplomats to Skyhold while arm in arm, and Adaar always leans down to kiss Josephine before they part ways, sometimes on the lips, sometimes on the cheek. Their love is evident in how they smile at each other. Dorian is happy for them.

They make it look so easy.

Feeling wistful, Dorian imagines how it might have felt to have that with Rilienus, if their Tevinter peers cared not for the fact that they were two men, just as no one here cares that Adaar and Josephine are two women, one of whom is an Antivan with status while the other used to be naught but a qunari mercenary.

It’s still a pretty fantasy to think of what might have been with Rilienus, but Dorian knows a little something about falling for a qunari mercenary himself. His imaginings quickly turn to The Iron Bull’s large hand resting against his back, to the way he laughs deep and unrestrained, to fighting beside each other so intuitively, to how he makes Dorian feel like something precious in their private moments.

Dorian would not like to look back on this years from now with yearning, wishing he had allowed himself more. Not when the only thing stopping him from having more right now is himself.

*

As the week comes to a close, Dorian grows ever more agitated, wishing he knew when the Chargers would be back in Skyhold. It can’t be much longer now, he thinks.

He used to be so much more patient than this. His dalliance with Rilienus had been careful and covert—they couldn’t be seen slipping away together too often, they had to make time between their obligations, they were used to stolen moments and pretending not to care so deeply while in the presence of others.

Dorian supposes he doesn’t find the clandestine nature of it as romantic as it felt at the time. Now, he wants something solid, something he can rely on. He wants to be at The Iron Bull’s side whenever he so chooses.

He wants to let go of the lessons taught to him by his home country.

During a game of chess with Cullen, Dorian maintains a casual expression as he asks, “Is there any word on when the Chargers will be returning?”

Cullen lifts his eyes from the board to regard him, but as Dorian anticipated, he doesn’t question Dorian’s reason for asking, merely says, “They sent a raven when they finished their mission; they’re already well on their way back to Skyhold.”

As someone who doesn’t like others prying into his business, Cullen tends not to do much prying himself, unless he must as Commander. They’re friends, besides—Dorian wouldn’t even mind telling Cullen about his relationship with The Iron Bull. But Cullen doesn’t ask, and Dorian enjoys the opportunity to play at shifting his boundaries without being questioned.

He also takes the opportunity to nudge a chess piece onto a different tile while Cullen’s attention is upwards.

Cullen still takes the game despite Dorian’s best efforts. He was, perhaps, a little distracted with the thought of having The Iron Bull back in his bed before long.

*

Dorian is sitting in the library with a book open on his thigh when the horn sounds from below to signal a returning party. Without even considering it first, he snaps the book shut, sets it aside, and stands. He has never greeted The Iron Bull and the Chargers at the gates before, always waiting until it would not be out of place, until they can convene in one of their bedchambers for the night, but this time will be different.

He takes the steps down into the base of the rotunda, then into the main hall. No one glances twice at him, no one wonders where he’s going or why. It’s easy as anything to continue outside, into the lower courtyard, where there’s a bit of bustle as the stables are being prepared for mounts that need tending, and others merely wait to see friends return. The Chargers are well-liked. They tend to have an audience when they’re all gathered together like this.

It isn’t a long wait, blissfully. The clop and clatter of horse hooves sounds against the bridge leading into the keep, and then the Chargers—with The Iron Bull at the helm—are pouring through the raised portcullis, looking travel-worn but whole and happy to be home. The Iron Bull is always a sight to behold, but especially now, he is in his element, looking every part the strong, powerful mercenary, all muscle and assurance.

Needing to be at this side, Dorian starts forward, weaving his way through the onlookers. All of them will see him approach the Chargers, all of them will be watching. There is still a kneejerk lurch in Dorian’s stomach at the thought of losing this secret, of having to weather whatever follows, but he intends to be fearless again.

The Iron Bull dismounts and rolls his shoulders back, warding away the stiffness that comes from riding long distances. He turns, almost immediately spotting Dorian in the crowd. He smiles openly, though it’s still restrained, as he knows Dorian worries about what people will think.

Dorian smiles back. He breaks through the throng of people and continues up to the Chargers, who are starting to draw their horses over to the stables. The Iron Bull only stands where he is, at his mount’s flank, and watches Dorian intently.

“Hey, big guy. Missed me that much, did you?” he says when Dorian reaches him, low enough not to be overheard.

Normally, Dorian might make a quip rather than respond with honesty, hiding behind flippancy or even jests. Today, he says, “Very much so.”

He lifts a hand, resting it on the strap of The Iron Bull’s harness, fingertips hooking over the top of the heavy leather. Kissing The Iron Bull like this is always so deliberate—Dorian must stretch up on the tips of his toes, or else tug The Iron Bull closer. He does both, and sees the question on The Iron Bull’s face before Dorian captures his lips in a kiss.

Dorian has always been too aware of those around them during moments of stolen intimacy in public. Every time they end up leaning into each other at the Herald’s Rest, every time they catch each other’s gaze too long to be merely friendly, every gesture that can be interpreted as more—but now, he thinks nothing of their surroundings. The ache in his chest from missing The Iron Bull begins to unravel, smoothing into affection and contentment. The Iron Bull wraps an arm around his back, solid and warm.

It’s like restrictive bonds being cut loose. Like being released from a cage of his own making.

“Dorian?” The Iron Bull murmurs against his lips, asking for an explanation through tone more than words.

“Let them see; let them think what they will,” Dorian says. He cannot control how others will react, nor how this may change others’ perception of him, but he has made the choice to not compromise himself for others before. He can do it again. “Besides, they should all know you’re mine, I think.”

The Iron Bull grins crookedly, slipping his hand lower on Dorian’s back and tugging him closer by the hips. “Is that so?”

“Naturally. I will demonstrate this fact,” Dorian says, “after you no longer smell of blood and horse.”

In response, The Iron Bull nuzzles his nose into Dorian’s cheek, laughing softly when Dorian sighs.

This is the man who holds Dorian’s heart, and Dorian has no regrets, not about their relationship, nor about what others think. It’s freeing to acknowledge that. To no longer hide, to no longer fret, to no longer keep such a firm grasp on a secret that should not need to be a secret at all.

Dorian smiles and squeezes his fingers around The Iron Bull’s arm, finding himself not only unafraid of this public intimacy, but savouring it.

It’s something he’s been missing, and he’ll never have to go without it again.