#I'm really going to have to draw up some modern day au looks for them huh

[undeadchestnut]

Modern day AU Scrooge/Marley concept: they connect on a GRINDR equivalent but because they don't post face pics neither realizes who the other actually is. Ebenezer is mortified when he arrives for their planned hookup and sees it's his boss, but--after getting over his initial shock--Marley thinks the whole thing is serendipity.

Ooooh, what a DISASTER! I love it

Realistically, this is probably the only way those two emotionally repressed dorks would ever actually end up with each other.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x tess servopoulos

genre: smut, modern au, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: you're new to town and tess invites you to go camping with her and joel.

warnings: fmf, threesome, flf dynamics, reader being eaten out for the first time, dirty talk, oral s.ex, cum eating/play, for the sake of this fic let's just imagine they have a very big tent they can actually stand in lmaodfb, things escalate quickly but honestly I just wanted to write some good old smut

a/n: this wasn't originally intended for the amazing @undercoverpena's april showers challenge BUT since I had already written the rain aspect of the fic I thought it would be nice to post this for it 💜

prompt: both/all parties get caught in the rain. 

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

Breathing is hard. Walking is hard. Carrying the weight of your backpack is hard. 

But, the fresh air, the white clouds above, and the two people you’re with make up for it. 

Stopping briefly, you roll your shoulders and stretch, neither of them notice you. Not really. You figure it’s not really important if they do or don’t, it’s not like they’re that much ahead of you, catching up wouldn’t be difficult. You watch them, you must admit, a bit dreamily as they walk the bath they’re clearly so used to walking. You’re still surprised that the seasoned hikers invited you to a camping trip. Tess was the one to approach, she knew you were new and how overwhelming it’s been getting used to the people and the sights. She told you she and Joel would be going on a trip soon and that you should join. And even though your answer had been an eager yes, you were worried about holding them back. Admittedly, you weren’t the most fit and haven’t hiked anywhere in years. 

However, your excitement to spend time with not one but both of them had tipped the scale rather harshly. You’ve been harboring a secret crush on both of them, it was hard not to when both of them were charming and witty.

Now, as you walk behind them, you can't help but steal glances at the way Tess effortlessly navigates the trail, her hair swaying with each step. Joel walks beside her, occasionally pointing out interesting plants or landmarks, his backpack seeming almost weightless on his shoulders.

You catch yourself smiling as you imagine what adventures lie ahead on this trip.

You decide to pick up your pace, closing the gap between you and them. As you draw nearer, Tess glances back, her eyes brightening with a genuine smile as she sees you catching up.

"How's the hike treating you?"

You catch your breath and reply, "It's challenging, but I'm enjoying every moment of it."

Joel turns around with a friendly grin. "Glad to hear that. We've got a great spot picked out for camping tonight."

As the three of you continue forward, you feel a surge of excitement. Your legs might be aching, but you can't wait to see where the day takes you all.

Rain. 

At first, you thought you were unlucky. You had dreamed of campfire, smores and snuggling underneath the starlight, but with the first lightning strike and drop of water, you thought the two would be agitated, annoyed by the bad weather. 

But to your surprise, as the rain began to fall in earnest after setting the tent, Tess and Joel didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, they laughed and exchanged playful looks as they turned their heads up to the sky. Their infectious joy caught you off guard, and despite the downpour, you found yourself smiling too.

Then, unexpectedly, Joel's arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. A rush of warmth floods through you as his lips brush against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Simultaneously, Tess leans in, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. The moment is electrifying, filled with a blend of desire and affection.

Before you know it, Tess and Joel are gently guiding you towards the tent they had set up earlier. The rain continues to pour around you, but inside the cozy confines of the tent, a different kind of heat ignites. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel cups both your breasts tenderly from underneath, the wet fabric dampening his skin. You feel Tess’s eyes on your back, observing, taking in the details of the scene before her. Meanwhile, Joel’s gaze is glued to your pebbled nipples, he slowly drags his thumbs over them, your breath catching in your throat. “Does that feel good?” 

“It does,” your eyelids flutter, he repeats the movement, drawing circles this time. His eyes flicker up to meet yours. 

“So fucked out already,” he hums. “Our pretty little girl, so shy and hungry.” 

Tess stands from where she is sitting and circles her arms around your waist, fingers digging into your stomach, she pulls you flush against her. Your stomach bottoms out as you feel the plump flesh of her breasts against your back. Your lips part, you want to kiss her. 

You want to kiss her. 

You turn your head, chasing her lips with yours, before your eyes close, you see the mischievous curl of her lips. She pulls away and smiles even wider when you whine. “You’re so easy to tease.” 

Opening your eyes, you swallow, your body arches when Joel sneaks both hands under your shirt, lifting the fabric, goosebumps raise all over your skin. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask her, voice slightly shaking. 

“Not at all princess,” she drags her lips down your neck. “It just makes it even more amusing.” 

Your reply gets stuck in your throat as Joel dips down and sucks one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. He tightly closes his lips around the nub and flicks it with his tongue. Your body jolts, pleasure running through you like the lighting outside. Your head falls over Tess’s shoulder, she lays open-mouthed kisses over your neck, her hands unbuttoning your pants. 

“You want him to eat you out?” she breathes into your skin and without looking at either of them you nod. “Have you ever had your pussy eaten out, princess?” 

You lick your lips, “No,” you say half ashamed, and swallow. “This’ll be my first time.” 

Joel’s tongue stills on your skin and suddenly two hungry eyes come into your view. If you didn’t know better you’d say he looks pissed off. Never breaking eye contact, he continues what Tess started and pushes down your pants along with your underwear, leaving you bare to the chill of the tent. He pushes two fingers between your folds and starts stroking you, you shudder against both of them, and your breath hitches. 

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he says. “Beg me for it.” 

“Please.” 

He chuckles darkly, “Oh sweetheart, I ain’t gettin’ on my knees for that. Do better.” 

You let out a small gasp as he grips your chin, squeezing lightly. To provide comfort, Tess kisses the back of your neck, however, you can feel her smiling into your skin. 

“Please,” you say again. “I want you to make me come, Joel. I want to feel your tongue—I want you to be my first—” 

Your lips part for another incoming beg but he’s already sinking to his knees, large hands sliding up and down the back of your thighs. A shudder rolls up your spine. Tess’s hands replace Joel’s, kneading your breasts softly. 

His hands finally come between your thighs, gently nudging them so you open wider. You see a flicker of a smile when you do, amused, he drags two fingers between your folds. “You’re soaked, sweetheart.” 

“She’s not the only one,” Tess chuckles. “Now get on with it, Miller. I’m impatient.” 

He clicks his tongue without retaliating further. You feel the warmth of his breath on your core, and slowly, he presses his lips over your mound, the scratch of his beard making it an exquisite experience. You moan at the touch of his tongue, it moves slowly, circling your clit and going deeper. His nails bite into your skin, the sounds he makes between your legs are downright sinful. Your legs begin to shake. 

“Shh it’s okay,” Tess whispers against your cheek. “Just give him a taste and we’ll lay you down, princess. I know you can do it.” 

Joel grunts in approval, the timber of the sound making you whimper. His hands slide up to your ass and he squeezes the mounds roughly, pushing you further against his mouth. He licks and sucks, when you feel the bite of his nails against your skin, you finally come undone. 

Your knees threaten to give out under you, the only thing holding you upright being the two stunning people consuming you. Tess smiles against your skin, kissing and licking the salt of your skin. Meanwhile, Joel moans rather loudly, licking everything you have to offer as you come, come and come some more. You’ve never felt anything this intense before. The air is knocked from your lungs, your body ice cold yet burning up at the same time. 

You’re vaguely aware of Joel standing, the man who was worshipping you between your legs suddenly towering over you. He has a small smile as he leans in, you think he’s going to kiss the slope of your shoulder first but then you hear the soft sounds of two lips coming together. With the corner of your eyes, you see them. Tess and Joel kissing, their tongues sliding into each other's mouth, sharing your taste—

“Fuck,” you whisper, your cunt throbbing. They both smile, lips curving in an almost malicious way. As they break apart, Tess licks Joel’s lips, her eyes find yours. 

“Someone’s still hungry for more,” she teases, slowly stripping. “Get on all fours for us, princess.” 

You swallow and do as she says. You feel Joel’s large hands cup the mounds of your ass, squeezing tenderly. “Beautiful,” he rasps. “Such a goddamn sight.” 

Your back arches into his touch. He drags two thick fingers between your folds as Tess lays down, spreading her legs. Your eyes immediately drop to her center, the soft hair that crowns her pretty pussy. You see her glisten with want and your mouth waters. 

“Don’t be shy now,” she smiles. “Have a taste.” 

Her fingers curl around the back of your neck and at the same time, you feel the head of Joel’s cock stretching you wide. Your eyes roll as you part your lips, Tess moans loudly when your tongue swirls around her puffy clit. You can’t think straight. Joel buries himself deep holding himself there for a second before pulling back and slamming forward. Your moan into Tess’s cunt, your lips parting away briefly every he pulls himself back. 

“Best cunt I’ve ever had,” he grunts through clenched teeth. “How does it feel sweetheart? You enjoyin’ yourself?” 

You flatten your tongue against Tess’s folds and moan, your body clenching. 

“She is,” Tess answers on your behalf, breathless. “Such a sweet girl letting us use her like this.” 

Your eyes close tightly shut, sweat drips down your spine, your body a vessel of pleasure. Every muscle in your body tightens, and you hear both of them groan. You close your lips around Tess’s clit and flick your tongue, her head falls, gushing into your mouth. Joel’s watches intently, his cock pulsing and throbbing, his hand comes against the back of your head and he pushes you further down. 

“Good girl,” he growls, the pace of his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Fuck, that’s it, lick her clean.” 

Tess moans again, the loud sounds becoming whimpers. You can barely breathe but you don’t care. With one final thrusts you come undone around Joel’s cock, your body squeezing him like a vice. 

When the violent shudders of your body become gentle waves, Joel pulls out. Your head falls limply against Tess’s stomach, her hand gently rubbing your neck. A soft gasp leaves you when you see Joel shuffling closer, his cock still hard and glistening. You watch as he strokes himself only mere inches away from your face, the head of his cock an angry shade of red. 

You stick out your tongue as he spills himself over your face and Tess’s stomach. Another pulse of pleasure spreads throughout your body. Tess let’s out a deep sigh, gathering some of the come with her fingers, she pushes them between your lips. 

“Fuck,” Joel sighs, sitting back on his heels. A small smile forms against your lips as you suck on Tess’s fingers, when she pulls them out, you dip your tongue into the mess over her stomach and swallow every drop. 

“Filthy girl,” Tess muses. “And here I’ve been callin’ you princess.” 

“Your fault,” you mumble, looking away, your cheeks burn. 

Joel leans in, capturing your lips before whispering. 

“Don’t pout. You’ll always be our princess.” 

[melminli]

My Girl

pairing: maki zen'in x fem. reader

summery - being in love with your best friend can be difficult sometimes, maybe even more when you're both girls.

word count: 1.8k

contains: wlw, grumpy black cat x happy golden retriever trope, fluff, angst, internalized homophobia, comfort, modern au

She had been an outsider since the day she was born. Someone who didn't belong, someone who didn't conform to the norm. Her family made her feel that way since the day she was born, and so she grew up in a pretty pessimistic world. She got used to her situation. Well, she kinda had to. It wasn't a hard pill to swallow since she didn't know any different and was used to dealing with the situation. Her parents might rather have one strong boy than two weak girls, and she might rather have other parents. Guess not everyone can have what they want.

Maki watched you with a longing look while you were fooling around with inumaki at some store window a little further away. You smiled as you excitedly pointed your finger at various objects and pulled the arm of the boy next to you to draw his attention abruptly to something else every now and then.

After a while, she turned her eyes away from you in shame, having been watching your figure a little too closely and paying a little too much attention to your various facial expressions.

You were a new reason for Maki to feel like an outsider in this world, and this time, it scared her a little because it wasn't the situation she was used to. If she knew that I think about her like that, it would certainly make her sad. She thought to herself and then sighed. I should just not think about her, maybe not think at all.

"They spend a lot of time in front of that store, I'm afraid we won't be able to get them out once they go in." Yuuta laughed next to her while scratching his head a little worriedly. His eyes then wandered to the sign again. "I didn't realize those two were so into this sanrio stuff."

Maki looked at him out of the corner of her eye before adjusting her glasses. "She's liked sweet stuff ever since I've known her, whether it's stuffed animals or food. Inumaki says it's not really his thing, and he just doesn't mind going along with her, but I think he secretly likes all that stuff, too."

Yeah, from Yuuta's observations, that explanation seemed accurate. "That stuff doesn't really seem to be your thing, though, and yet you didn't object when she said she wanted to visit this store. If it's one of us who asks you to hang out, you're never in the mood." He playfully referred to himself and the other boys.

She shrugged her shoulders uninterestedly. "That's because I don't like you guys. Don't want to waste my time." Maki said without hesitation and sent an arrow into Yuuta's heart. "Although well, I guess you're not entirely wrong. Sweet stuff isn't really my thing. But that's okay, I don't mind. We sometimes do things I like as well."

Yuuta recovered and raised an eyebrow with interest. "Yeah? Like what?"

The time a few weeks ago were you two were at the movies together came to her mind. "We watched a horror movie a while ago." She said, grinning slightly at the memory.

The boy looked a little irritated. He knew that you were quite the scaredy cat, especially when it came to jumpscares. "Really? That doesn't sound like her."

Maki shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I was surprised too when she offered to go with me after mentioning that I wanted to see it." She admitted. "It was kind of cute though, she hardly dared to take her hands off her face. I don't know what made her do that to herself. Really can't figure out what's going on in her head sometimes."

Yuuta had to stop himself from sighing. It's so obvious, though. "Yeah, it really is a great mystery....I also want to emphasize again that I think it's really mean of you how you prefer her to all of us." The boy pouted slightly. I mean, I understand why, but she still doesn't have to say it like that.

"It's different with her." She said directly as her eyes turned back to your figure, who finally decided to storm into the store and waved excitedly to her to signal it. "...she's my best friend."

The black-haired boy looked somewhat doubtful at his friend, who made her way over to you. "...sure." He said with narrowed eyes and followed her. Me when I'm lying.

Green eyes looked down at the small plush toy pendant in her hand and stroked her finger through the fabric. What was the name of that thing again...was it Kuromi? Maki asked herself inwardly, not knowing exactly what kind of animal it was supposed to represent as she inspected it from different angles. It doesn't matter, you bought it for her the other day from this store you went to. She didn't remember what yours was called, but you had the pink version or whatever.

"Hey Maki, are you ready to go? Sorry if you had to wait a while, Jun was holding me up a bit. I mean, I swear to god she's really cute but also so pushy sometimes." You sighed and set off as she got up from her seat on the bench. It had become routine for the two of you to go to the café near the school building every Tuesday since you both got out early and liked to go for drinks together.

"That's all right. You always write me a hundred messages if you're being really late." She teased you and knew that it always secretly bothered you that you were always runnung somewhat late since you just didn't really have a good sense of time.

You avoided her gaze. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." You just replied and stopped on the sidewalk when you both reached the red light.

Maki didn't even try to stifle her grin. "So, which one was Jun again?" She asked you because she couldn't always put a name to the stories you told her.

"She's the one who always asks me what kind of guys I like so she can link me to one of her friends." You said a little annoyed at the memory and walked across the intersection as the light changed to green. "I don't know what her problem is, to be honest, like how about just someone who's halfway a decent person, huh? From what she told me about her boyfriend, I doubt she knows anyone like that."

Maki just looked to the side a little uncomfortably at the subject. I shouldn't have asked, ugh. She didn't like being reminded of how you could probably have something like a boyfriend someday. Even though you hated men and were always ranting about them, it somehow seemed like that in the end, the pretty girls with a sweet personality like you always ended up with some weird asshole.

She tried to shake the thought out of her mind as she held the door open for you. No, not even over my dead body.

That sounded like a nightmare. She would never let something like that happen. Maki continued to be a little lost in thought as you ordered for the two of you (a sweet iced coffee and a hot black coffe with sugar), and when a good seat became available, you just told her to sit there quickly while you waited for the drinks.

"Here you go." You said and sat down in front of her after placing the two cups on the table. As you took a sip of your sweet coffee, you noticed something unusual. "Huh? Look." You said, pointing to your cup. "Someone has written down their number."

Both of your eyes turned to the counter where a barista guy waved charmingly at you. "...hey, do you think he's attractive?" You asked playfully after overcoming your confusion.

Maki turned her slightly annoyed gaze to you. "No, not really." She answered you curtly and couldn't help but think of more scenarios in her head. First, that girl from your class who wanted to set you up with some guy, now some guy who came up to you out of nowhere.

She didn't want to think about it - she never wanted to, which is why she always blocked it out. You rarely talked to her about your love life, mainly because no one really interested you, and that was enough for Maki not to worry about...this stuff. But if others were interested in you like today...who's to say you wouldn't want to try it out at some point?

"Really? He's kinda hot, though." You replied, slightly surprised, as you played with your straw. "What's your type, then?"

"I like them more cute." She replied bluntly.

You blinked and looked around as if you were casually asking. "Cute? Like cute guys?"

This time, she didn't hesitate. Not like all the other times, because even if Maki might have many regrets in her life, she didn't want to put seeing you with some boy on that list. "No, more like cute girls."

It might be that the whole world would reject her for it, and she would forever remain an outsider, but maybe that didn't even matter. As long as she felt like she belonged by your side, the world and whoever else could reject her as much as they wanted, because how happy could such a world really make her?

Maki couldn't control everything, even if she might have liked it that way sometimes, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Yes, this isn't too bad. That's what she thought when she felt her heart warm up by just looking at you.

Maybe I can have a little control, though. Over this. Maki took your hand in hers as a slight blush spread across her cheeks the moment your eyes met. " - like you. I like cute girls like you."

[jujutsubaby]

🩷 sex drive 🩷

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to a valentine's day blood drive at work. maybe it's just that you've been single for too long, but isn't the volunteer drawing your blood kinda...? well, let's just say you wouldn't mind exchanging a few other bodily fluids with him, too. ☆ tags: modern au, workplace au ☆ warnings: 18+!! MINORS DNI!! dirty talk, oral sex (f!recieving), slight exhibitionism, daddy kink ☆ a/n: happy valentine's day (again)!! another quick little treat for u all hehe...inspired by my real life experience of going to a valentine's day blood drive (except for the fun parts ofc lmao).

you knew you should have made up an excuse and stayed home today. you hate to be a cliche bitter ass single woman who's not getting any younger on valentine's day, but it's hard not to play to type when the whole office is decorated in cutesy pinks and reds. it definitely doesn't help that your boss, suguru, keeps getting visits every 15 minutes from his boyfriend satoru.

"ugh, what's with the pda?" you grumble at what feels like satoru's 30th visit to suguru's open cubicle. "haven't you two been together for, like, a thousand years already?" your coworker utahime helpfully makes gagging noises to emphasize your point.

"hey now, y/n, you KNOW that i'm the head of marketing and suguru's the head of sales! i can't help it if he and i have lots of important things to discuss," satoru protests with puppy dog eyes.

"i didn't realize important marketing meetings involve sitting on coworkers' laps now," utahime mumbles, and the pair of you giggle conspiratorially.

however, as the day goes on and utahime keeps receiving increasingly elaborate flower arrangements delivered to her from her doctor girlfriend shoko, you find yourself feeling more glum than ever. you decide to go out for a stroll, hoping the cold february air will slap some sense into you.

unfortunately, not even five minutes after you set out, droplets of threatening rain turn into a torrential downpour. you curse; in your mopey mood this morning, you totally forgot to check the forecast!

you really don't want to go back into the lovefest of your office right now, so you start looking desperately around for a rescue — an underhang to stand under, anything.

that's when you see a bright red sign advertising a blood drive for valentine's day being held at your neighboring building. that could be an interesting idea. at least this way, you can tell yourself you did a good deed on valentine's day instead of just complaining the whole time. even more appealingly, you see that it'll take about an hour, which is one less hour you'll have to spend around satoru's soppy nicknames for suguru. after shooting a quick text to your team's group chat informing them of your last minute appointment, you decide to brave the rain and head over, hoping there's an opening for a walk-in.

you enter the room where the blood drive is taking place, praying you don't look too much like a drowned rat. your self-consciousness melts away and you smile brightly when you see a familiar face.

"shoko! you're volunteering here today?"

"oh, hey y/n," your quiet friend replies, giving you a small smile back. "yeah, utahime and i have a date nearby this evening, so i thought i might as well sign up. what time was your appointment for?"

"well, uh, i didn't exactly make an appointment..." you say awkwardly. "are walk-ins ok?"

"no problem, we got a lot of no-shows today anyway," shoko replies with a subtle roll of her eyes. she then hands you a clipboard and a pen. "just fill this out, and i'll get you screened and set up and everything."

you gratefully take the clipboard and head into the tiny compartment curtained off at the side of the room, presumably to give donors some privacy as they get screened. you fill out the form (trying not to think of your stupid ex boyfriend when you encounter the questions about your sex life), and once you're done, you poke your head back outside of the compartment.

"i'm ready now, shoko," you call. when your friend doesn't answer, you crane your neck around to the desk where she had been sitting. "shoko?"

"she just went on break," a husky, masculine voice replies from behind you. "i'll be taking over." you look back and are immediately floored by what just has to be the finest specimen of the male form you've ever seen, clad in obscenely tight scrubs that emphasize every bulging muscle. focus!!

"oh thanks doctor...um...fushiguro," you read from his nametag. he's so tall that it happens to be at your eye level, giving you quite a nice eyeful of his firm, muscular chest. what business did men have being this tall, anyway?!

"just call me toji," he says casually, grinning down at you. he takes the clipboard from your outstretched hands and jerks his head back towards the compartment you had been waiting in. "let's head back there so we have more...privacy." maybe it's just your imagination, but you could have sworn he smirked when he said that. you take deep breaths to suppress the unholy thoughts you're having, and you follow him back into the side room.

when you push the curtain aside and go in after him, you see he's already settled into one of the two chairs crammed into the tight space that he's clearly a little too large for. as you daintily resume your position in your own chair, he shifts and splays his long legs out, brushing your thigh with his knee. you inhale sharply.

he clears his throat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket before reading your questionnaire. he nods at your answers (although you can't help but turn beet red as his eyes scan over the section about when you last had a new sex partner).

"looks fine to me. let's take your blood pressure now...y/n" he says, positively purring when he sounds out your name. "beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says with a roguish wink, making you turn even redder than you ever knew was possible. was he making you uncomfortable on purpose?!

"mind taking your top off?" he asks, rummaging around in the drawer in front of him.

"i'm sorry?!" you choke out. that was a freebie! happy fucking valentine's day to you!

"oh, sorry, i meant so i can put the bp monitor around your arm. i don't know if you can roll your sleeves up in that blouse," he says, looking up from the drawer. you notice his eyes on your breasts, and you realize that you of course had worn your white button down over your lacy black camisole on the day mother nature decided to get you soaking wet. you must look like such a hussy!

you quickly unbutton your blouse and show him your arm to wrap the thick velcro band around, trying hard to avoid eye contact. it doesn't matter, though; you can feel his eyes boring into you like lasers. why does he have to be so hot?! you hope being in his presence won't throw off your blood pressure reading...you can feel your pulse going a little haywire.

As he tightens the band and starts the measurement, toji starts making small talk.

"so, you doing anything for valentine's day?"

ugh. anything but this topic.

"no," you reply simply, hoping not to broker further discussion.

he presses on, not taking your cue (or if he did, he ignored it.)

"no? what, your partner doesn't celebrate?"

toji reads out your bp measurement to you, but you don't even pay attention to it as you notice his hand brushing the side of your breast as he unwraps the bp monitor's band from your exposed arm. you gulp as you realize only the thin satiny layer of your cami is keeping his hands from touching your tits.

"uh..ah.." you say, hoping he doesn't notice the effect his one brief physical touch had on you, "n-no...my ex-boyfriend and i broke up a few months ago already." you don't mention how you saw him in your bed on your birthday in the arms of another person.

toji looks up at you from darkly hooded eyes.

"his loss...i know i'd treasure valentine's day with a pretty little thing like you."

just like that, toji snaps back into professional mode again, leaving you reeling once more from his flirtatious behavior. he was way too handsome to be acting like this on a dime! a girl like you could get ideas...

"i'm going to do a thumbprick now to get a quick reading on your blood. is that ok with you?"

you nod, and he grins at you.

"that's my girl," he hums in a low voice.

then, before you're even able to process what's happening, he takes your hand and engulfs it in his own. he then begins rubbing your hand back and forth, and you feel a small frisson of pleasure at the sensation of his callouses against your small, soft fingers.

"noticed your skin was a little cold, so i thought i'd warm your hand up before taking the sample," he explained, but you're hardly able to even listen to him as you enjoy the blissful sensation of his hands rubbing yours. his fingers were so long and thick, and so dextrous... how would those fingers feel somewhere else...no! stop! what are you thinking?! you've definitely been single for too long.

"all right, y/n," toji murmurs gently. "you're just going to feel a small prick...sorry about that..." he takes the sample and puts it into a machine for processing. he then reaches back into the drawer and withdraws a digital thermometer.

"while we're waiting for that to finish, let's take your temperature." you nod and extend your hands to take the thermometer from him, but he ignores you and instead roughly takes your chin in one of his huge, warm hands, tilting your head up towards his chest.

"open up for me now, y/n" he purrs, your name sounding like the sweetest and most beautiful sound you've ever heard when it's coming from his mouth; you can't help but comply. he gently inserts the thermometer under your tongue, and you note his eyes lingering on your lips for much longer than they have to. embarrassingly, you notice heat pooling between your legs, and tension twisting by your belly button. you could get used to this...all too soon, though, the thermometer beeps, and he takes it out. toji clicks his tongue as he reads the small display.

"99 degrees even," he reads out. "now that's a surprise."

"what? why's that?" you ask, confused. how could a body temperature be surprising?

"well, our cutoff is 99.5, and i was sure you'd be way too hot," he says with a laugh and another wink. you giggle back demurely; you can't help but act all girlish and coquettish with someone like him. you've never seen a man in real life wink so much, but you find you don't mind. it suits him.

"all right, y/n, let's go get some blood drawn!" he says enthusiastically, rising from his chair. you follow suit. he reaches around you (did his arm just brush your breasts again?) and opens the curtain for you. "after you, princess."

you used to hate when your ex called you "princess"...but when toji called you that, it sounded like the doors to the heavens opened and angels were singing. you'll definitely be thinking about that for awhile. probably before bedtime, and probably while touching yourself. you sigh and exit the small room before hopping up onto one of the cots that were brought to the building for the blood drive.

toji pops a small stress ball into your hand. "now, make a fist for me," he says, using his fingers to close yours, "and start squeezing that." he squeezes his fist around yours. it wasn't so confusing of an instruction that you needed a demonstration, and you're beginning to suspect that toji's making excuses to keep touching you. not that you mind, exactly.

you keep squeezing, and he examines the tender inside of your elbow. "that's a gorgeous vein you've got there, princess. this'll be easy for me," he murmurs seductively, and you blush. you've never been complimented on a vein, of all things, before.

soon, toji pierces your arm (pursing his lips sympathetically as you emit a sharp gasp, which of course makes you stare at his lips), and your blood is pumping merrily into a bag. you decide to make conversation with him, this time.

"how about you, toji? i'm sure someone like you has big plans for valentine's day, right?" you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"oh, yeah," he chuckles. "if you count getting high and watching magnolia for the millionth time big plans. i don't really go for that stuff," he says.

"i love paul thomas anderson," you say huskily, trying to flutter your eyelashes at him. it's been a long time since you've flirted, and you're probably embarrassing yourself. "you know what the perfect film of his for today would be, though?"

"what's that, princess?"

you smirk. "there will be blood."

toji lets out a huge laugh in spite of himself, and you smile proudly. flirtation successful!

soon, your blood has filled the small bag, and toji removes the needle, pressing gauze to the wound. the feel of his hands pressing into your arm is one of the most blissful things you've felt all week. he asks you to continue maintaining the pressure, and you feel like whining that it won't feel as nice as when he does it before remembering where you are and complying. you watch as he picks up your sample and sorts it in with the others; you feel a bit shy, seeing him manhandle your little blood bag like that. it feels so intimate.... you gulp as you imagine him manhandling you like that.

"all right, y/n, now you just need to rest for twenty minutes, and you'll be good to go." you start climbing out from the cot, feeling a little disappointed that your short, exciting interaction with toji is coming to an end. oh well. some excitement is better than none.

"we have some cookies for the donors in the seating area," he continues. "lucky you...i'd love a little taste of something sweet right about now..."

ok, it definitely wasn't your imagination — he positively growled that last sentence, and he was eyeing you. as you get up, you notice you're a little shaky on your feet; you realize that you actually hadn't eaten lunch before coming, since you'd been in such a rush to get away. you list and sway dangerously to one side, but a pair of strong arms braces you. you let your head fall back onto a perfectly firm, taut chest.

"careful, there, sweetheart" toji whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he lifts you up. you try not to think too much about how your back is pressed into him right now. "i think i'd better keep an eye on you." he walks you over to the front of the room, bracing your back against himself the whole way over. he leads you to the front of the room, where there are folding chairs and a card table with a small platter of supermarket cookies as promised. as shoko had alluded earlier, the blood drive was not busy at all. in fact, it was completely empty currently; just you and toji, alone in this room... you feel yourself getting faint again, but not for the same reason.

"y'know, princess..." toji says, sitting again with his legs splayed out over the chair across from you as you nibble a chocolate chip cookie. "my shift's ending right about...when your observation period ends."

you tilt your head inquisitively at him, hoping you knew why he was saying this. he leans forward, the flimsy plastic chair creaking under the weight of his solid muscle. what you'd let that muscle do to you...

"i don't think that i, as a medical professional, can let you go back to work today..." he continues. "i think you'd better go home after this." then, he smiles deviously. "and i think i'd better take you back, just to give you a...full examination."

it takes all of your restraint not to fling the rest of the cookie down and jump his bones right then and there. instead, you reply,

"i think i'd appreciate the house call." you do your best to make your voice ooze with suggestion so he knows you're picking up what he's putting down.

after what feels like the slowest fifteen minutes of your life, it's finally time to leave. just as toji's shift is about to end, shoko returns from her break, and you take the opportunity to ask her to have utahime bring your things back home from the office for you. since they're your neighbors, you can pick them up later tonight. or perhaps, tomorrow morning...just in case tonight gets a little too busy.

"something came up," you explain to her breathlessly, but you know shoko notices toji's hand creeping up the small of your back.

"have fun," shoko says to the both of you, only slightly judgmental but mostly encouraging.

since you took the bus to work that morning and toji refuses to wait a moment longer than he has to to commence your "examination," he insists on driving you back in his car. you both practically sprint through the parking lot, and he breaks at least three traffic laws zooming back to your apartment in the rain as you yell directions. for a doctor, he sure is awfully reckless.

finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you're at your building. you're about to climb out of the car, but toji is way ahead of you, opening the door for you. you are about to climb out and jokingly thank him for his chivalry when he unceremoniously scoops you out of your seat and swings you over his shoulder. you shriek with laughter.

"toji! put me down!"

you're also all too aware that you're wearing a pretty short skirt that day.

"sorry, princess," he says smoothly. "it's protocol. i can't have you walking back in just in case you pass out, or something."

you're about to ask if he's even been to medical school when he shoves your key into your apartment door, slams it open, and, equally roughly, slams your back against the wall. the breath is shoved out of your lungs as he immediately captures your mouth with his, swallowing any potential protest you might have had (which you didn't, you absolutely didn't. not even close.). he carries your entire weight easily as he shuts the door behind him with his foot; you're hardly paying attention, though, as you're too busy widening your mouth and entangling your tongue with his. you greedily bite down on his lip, and he growls in response.

"let's get you to the examination table," he groans. you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and he carries you haphazardly to your dining table, crashing into and knocking over furniture along the way. carrying you with one arm, he carelessly clears the table with his other before plopping you onto the tabletop. he kneels before your legs and tears off your tights in one swift motion.

"i hope you're planning to help clean up—" you start, but your breath hitches in your throat as he begins kissing up your ankle, then your calf...then your thigh...he gets slower and slower as he gets closer to where you most want him to go. you try to shift forward on the table to bring your throbbing center closer to him, but he holds you firmly in place with two powerful hands clamped on your hips.

"patience, princess..."

you close your eyes and start taking deep breaths, but the moment is disrupted by an annoying loud vibration against the wooden tabletop.

"who the fuck is 'ryomen sukuna?'" toji scoffs, "and why do you have a heart next to his name? you been lyin' to me, princess? have you been naughty?"

"no," you breathe, and it comes out as a whine. "no, daddy, i've been a good girl, promise. please..."

"'please' what, princess? help daddy out here," he purrs with a wicked grin. just then, your stupid phone vibrates again, and you're about to pick it up and throw it out the window when toji wrests it from your grip.

"your idiot ex, i'm guessing?" he asks. all you can do is nod, the words robbed from you.

"well, my professional recommendation is...for you to tell him to fuck off."

"i will, toji, i promise," you pant. "please, just ignore him, i promise, he's nothing to me."

"you're not listening to me, princess..." toji says in a low, dangerous voice. "i want you to tell him to fuck off. right. now." he slides the answer button on your phone and hands it to you before you can protest.

"h-hello?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "sukuna?"

"heyyyy, y/n....missed hearing your voice, boo," sukuna coos, clearly inebriated. you scoff in disgust; it's only four in the afternoon. sukuna was such a mess.

"what do you want, sukuna? i thought i w-was..." you start out assertively, but your resolve is breaking as a practiced tongue once again starts swirling its way up your legs, alternating between your left and right thighs. you clench your toes and grit your teeth before continuing.

"i was ... clear...that ... that we're o-over," you say, the last word coming out as a moan as you feel a set of teeth pulling off your panties ever so gently.

"baby, i told you!" sukuna whines. "uraume's nothin' to me, babe! they're just a friend! you're my one and only, baby!"

even in the midst of the sensory overload occurring in your bottom half, you still roll your eyes. yeah, "just friends" made out in bed naked all the time, right?

"i want you to...to...s-stop.." you pant, as sukuna finally picks up on your strange manner of speech.

"hold on, y/n, is someone there with you?" he snarls, his famous temper rising to the forefront. "you whoring it up with another guy already?"

at that, toji grabs the phone from you and growls into it, "seems like she finally decided she needs a real man, not some cheatin' asshole who can't appreciate her properly!"

the moment he finishes talking, toji leans back into your thighs and finally plunders you with his tongue, raising the phone to your mouth in time for you to moan sinfully into it as sukuna is arguing back. toji doesn't even bother hanging up as he throws the phone across the room.

toji grips your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises as he feasts on you, and you wrap your legs around him, tangle your hands in his short hair, and squirm in delight. it doesn't take you very long to come undone under his practiced mouth.

he rises back to his feet, licking his lips.

"finally got to satisfy my sweet tooth today," he says mischievously. you grab the v-neck of his shirt and tug him closer to you aggressively.

"take me to bed. it's your turn next," you declare authoritatively. then, you kiss him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

"your wish is my command, princess," he replies with a dark chuckle, before lifting you, bridal style, to your bedroom.

this was shaping up to be a great valentine's day after all.

[kichiyosh1]

A not so silent apology

modern au! scaramouche x reader (hurt/comfort)

Nothing could deter his pride as a person, but he'll be damned if you keep ignoring him when he is in desperate need of your presence.

It wasn't unusual for arguments to occur in your relationship, but what WAS unusual was for you to slam your bedroom door right in his face and then continue to spend the rest of the day ignoring him. He understood you were still mad at him, so out of the goodness of his... very being, he left you alone. It was alright the first few hours until he called you down for dinner.

_

A boiling pot of your favorite meal sat atop the stove, and before it is a man with his hands on his hips, glaring at the rising bubbles with his eyebrows scrunched together in deep thought. You weren't always like this, heck, this was the first time you reacted that brashly to one of your guys' petty arguments. Well, perhaps you thought of the matter differently from what you used to, which is what ended up with him having to prepare such an extravagant meal just for you. His way of apologizing. So caught up in his thoughts he failed to hear the ringing of the doorbell, and a sneaky little figure going down the stairs.

_

"Y/n! I seriously think you're taking this a tad- no, you are taking this too far." He'd been calling out your name for ages, the food had gone called and you still refuse to answer him when he was right. damn. there. infront of your guys' shared bedroom. The tapping of his foot became more erratic, a new worried look finally taking over his former features. Were you really going to do this all night? aren't you hungry? fine, twisting the door knob he made it his very mission to drag you down those flight of stairs if it meant you could atleast fill your stomach, even if you were still mad at him.

To his suprise, he was met with an empty room, and the faint scent of "Take out? since when did-" in the trash were a few boxes of cardboard and a plastic cup, the sight made his stomache churn and his chest tighten. His first thoughts were how dare you choose take out over his obviously much more better cooking, but his initial thoughts were, if you went to such lengths— was it more than that you were mad? did you hate him?

Before he knew it a single tear slipped past him, and then another, it was frustrating seeing your significant other act this way. Anyone could deduce from the lights coming from the guest room and the lack of your pillow on your shared bed you've settled on sleeping in the next room.

It took him awhile, a long while before he could see straight again.

He's drawing the line at this, and with shaky fingers he dialed the one number he'd never imagine calling in his state of mind.

ring, ring, click!

'It's yah boy Childeee! ho-'

'...'

The ginger was caught off guared by the sound of whimpering and aggresive, (from what he could hear) wipping of tears on the other line

'the sound of your voice is grating.'

'Hey, you're the one who called! And you can't say that when you're the one sounding like a kicked puppy off the side of the streets— anyways, what's wrong?'

'Just- meet me xxxxxxx in an hour and *sniff* no questions'

Oh he had many, but with how shaky and the amount of voice cracks it took for scara to finish those few sentences he silently agreed.

click! beep beep

_

You hear loud suffling outside your door and to make sure you weren't hearing things, you took a peak outside a little while when the suffling dissapeared, and the sight shocked you.

A mountain of purple flowers(which was just a boquet) was layed on the floor, across your ceiling were balloons atatched to a string with the typical 'i love you's' and 'i'm sorry's' written on some of them, and right next to your door was a human sized cat stuffy that oddly resembled the man next room. A pang of guilt hit you when you see the container of chocolates neatly wrapped with a red ribbon. You could recognize those chocolates anywhere, despite Scara's distaste for sweets, that never stopped him from baking some for his beloved.

Now you couldn't possibly think of going back to sleep without properly talking to him first.

'Unbelievable' It only took you a step through the door to step on one out of the many crumpled papers that piled up next to scara's desk, his arms folded over his head accompanied by soft snorring. After placing a blanket over his shoulders, you uncrumpled the first paper.

'It's toture when you're right there infront of me, but I am unable to reach you...'

'I know I have a shitty personality, but I didn't mean to drive you off...'

'You mean the world to me, in fact the world doesn't hold anything compared to you...'

'I will be shoving that meal you left cold yesterday down your throat, but before that I need you back in my arms...'

'You don't have to forgive me right away, and even if you still don't, I wont complain, but please, please look at me again...'

'I love you, I love you so much that each second you act like I don't exist it hurts more than any deep wound I've ever recieved.'

'These gifts are only the beggining. I don't plan to apologise with only using material things, I'll make it up to you using all that I know...'

'I miss your hugs, your kisses, your smiles, your everything! but most importantly, you.'

' I promise I'll be better, to be more patient with you, to care for you...'

Those were only the few, but they were enough, you got the message he was never able to express out loud.

'I'm sorry'

A smile finally breaked through, a smile Scara would have killed to see if he wasn't already passed out, most probably dreaming of you. You wouldn't want to worry him any further, so you replied with a message of your own, neatly placed right under his head.

_____

My love,

Had I known you'd been going through all this, and that, because of me— I feel horrible, both of us were in the wrong, but it I was the one that handled it immaturely. I should apologize aswell, I'm sorry, and Thank you for going through such lengths for me. Had the roles been reversed I'd do the same as well, but, there really was no need for all that. A simple "I'm sorry" would have done the trick, but knowing you, that'd be the same as swallowing acid down your throat haha. When you wake up, I hope we can go back to how things always were, I miss you to you know. Don't forget, no matter how many times this might happen in the future(hopefully not) I will always continue loving you.

Your dearly beloved,

Y/n

_____

You transferred back to your shared bed and Scara woke up bawling his eyes out again, quickly tackling you in a death grip hug and burying yourselves further under the covers

Oh and childe was passed out on the couch. 'This is the last time i'm helping him with his love dilemna, brat couldn't wait until morning when the sun was high up in the sky...'

_

Im so sorry if this is such a messy concept of the word vomit that happened in my brain :'>

[djarinova]

You should take it as a compliment / That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you)

levi ackerman x gn!reader content - meet cute adjacent, mostly just abit of staring, cigarettes + alcohol mention, modern au words - 900 reputation event masterlist

You can almost feel his eyes piercing the back of your head. A part of you wants to whirl around, to find where he's watching you from, to walk up to him and introduce yourself properly and formally, to steal him from the droves of boring people he has to speak to.

But you don't. You can't. It wouldn't be proper. Instead, you tap your fingers against the side of your leg and lean closer to the man—what's his name? James, Jeffrey… something with a J, you're certain—in front of you, trying to make out what he's saying. The conversation has been going on far too long, if you can even call it a conversation when you haven't been able to speak a word for the last 10 minutes, and your feet are beginning to ache from standing still so long—shifting your weight back and forth has kept the pain at bay for as long as it could.

He hasn't said a word to you since he arrived, although you're not sure when he would've been able to find the time, as it seems he's the most popular—or hassled—person at the party. You heard the whispers start as soon as he had stepped foot through the door.

“Is that really him?”

“There's no way he actually came!”

“I'm surprised he came alone! Doesn't he usually bring dates to these types of things.”

“I heard he's still close with the founder, y’know, Mr Smith? They've been close since their university days.”

“Mr Ackerm–”

“–evi Ackerman…”

“–Levi Ackerman–”

Of course you'd heard of him—Levi Ackerman—hard to get an invite to a party like this without knowing his name, and the reputation that preceded him. You never heeded the gossip, figured that most of it was born out of some kind of jealousy. But still, it was hard to ignore the eyes following his every move, and the whispers growing louder and louder the more people helped themselves to the complimentary champagne.

You try to keep your focus on mingling with the other party goers. Keep yourself busy with the pleasantries and the somewhat fake niceties, but as the umpteenth middle aged man with whiskey on his breath and unkempt hair attempts to compliment you into working for them—or into going home with them—you find your networking facade begins to slip, and so you excuse yourself from conversation.

You're half way towards the exit door when you find him again. He's stood by the window now, and you can see an unlit cigarette rolling through his fingertips.

Your feet root themselves to the floor for only a moment as you lock eyes with Levi, but it's enough to draw his attention fully away from the men talking to him. It's as though everyone else falls into the peripheral when he looks at you. He raises his eyebrow—an inquiring glance—but all he can do is watch as you scurry towards the coat check booth, your cheeks hot and your heart racing.

You mumble the number on your ticket as you slide the thin piece of paper across the desk, quickly thanking the woman as she hands you your jacket.

It's amazing just how quickly an event can go from easy to something you can't get away from fast enough.

And yet a part of you still wishes you were inside, even as the cool night air hits your face and reminds you that, no, this isn't all you are, there is so much more to your life and your job than these stupid networking parties, you find yourself missing the stuffy, intoxicating party.

Or, maybe more accurately, you miss him—his eyes on you, the soft smiles and the bashful, almost wary, looks from across the room. It's peculiar, you think, that your paths have never directly crossed before—that you and Levi have both attended the same parties, events, meetings, even lunches together numerous times and yet you've never had to speak a word to each other.

You make your way down the stairs, hoping to be able to call a taxi and make a quick getaway before your coworkers realise you're missing. It's quiet outside, empty, you count 7 people between the door and the bottom of the stairs—seemingly most of the party goers decided to take their smoke breaks on the few scattered balconies as opposed to the front of the building.

Only one other person is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and as you descend closer and closer to him your thoughts are suddenly able to catch up to why your heart is thumping so loudly.

How did he manage to get in front of me?

You blanch at the realisation—you'll have to walk past him to get to where you need to go. Your mind swirls, heat creeps up your neck and you're sure a shiver is threatening to crawl up your spine.

You pause again, just for a moment, as you reach the final step. And Levi looks up at you. Not a small glance, not a discrete look from across the room. He is clearly and unmistakably looking at you, as if for the first time. It's odd, being so close to him, having his undivided attention and knowing that no one is around to interrupt.

You wonder if he can sense your nervousness.

Your eyes flit down to his hands, and you see the still unlit cigarette.

“Care to join me?” He asks.

[realkavehgf]

♡ I must confess...

a/n: I said I was gonna take a break but since I impulsively made this self-indulgent fic, I might as well share my cringe to the world!! AHAHA I finished and proofread at 3am so you might see a few errors here and there. This is a late Valentine's fic! I was supposed to finish this on the day itself but school...

!!! I am not a writer, I mainly draw artworks, so this isn't as good as the others out there, but enjoy the product of my lil brain!

content: 1.3+k words, reader pov focused, reader confesses, reader is an absolute simp for kaveh(cough), a part that implies that reader draws, giving kaveh cookies, kaveh is a pretty popular guy, fluff, just fluff. not sure if it's ooc but it's not that bad if it is! friends to lovers, kavehxgn!reader, modern HS au! Self-indulgent, but it's pretty much general so dw!

Fic under the cut! (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

After school, holding a small box of cookies and a Valentine's card behind your back, you prepped yourself. Today was the day. Today, you were going to tell your best friend that you liked him— that you really, really liked him.

Waiting outside in the courtyard, standing near the bench that you two would usually sit and hang out on, you waited to see that pretty boy blond that made your heart skip a beat for every little thing he did with you... Probably excluding the nagging he would do every so often when he was worried about you.

After a while, he called out to you, "I'm here! Sorry for the wait!" momentarily rendering you frozen in place. His bright voice ringing out, slightly out of breath.

Kaveh sat beside you with a smile, arms full of chocolatey sweets. "There were some people who gave me a few things on the way here... And I couldn't really refuse them, you know." He tittered awkwardly.

It was to be expected for someone like him to receive confessions, treats, and whatnot during this special day — he was kind, considerate... and, you could say that he was well liked by those who knew him.

He placed the chocolates and letters on the bench carefully, and... You were going to add to the amount of treats he was going to have to finish. Hesitance took root, you gulped. Palms starting to get sweaty as your heart pounded in your chest, and all of that... Just because he was there.

"Kaveh..." You muttered, before clearing your throat, hands firmly behind your back as you faced him, "I have something to tell you."

He blinked, caught off guard. "Oh? Um, what is it...?" obvious that he was drawing conclusions in his mind — his cheeks were growing redder and redder by the second. As always, being an open book whenever he was with you.

Though, from that reaction of his... Could it be?

"You probably already know what I was going to tell you..." you grumbled under your breath, turning your head to look at something else, your face burning from embarrassment.

"No, no..." He spoke up, voice softening, "Tell me."

This guy is going to cause you a heart attack one of these days, damn it! Speaking oh-so gently... You could only imagine his expression as he watched you squirm about, eyes glued on the nearby trash bins trying to calm down.

"Alright, I..." You started, "I-" you stuttered, "I...!" oh, you just couldn't!

You heard him come a little bit closer, making your heart drop to your stomach. "Look at me." He spoke firmly, yet tenderly.

Slowly, you turned to face him, finding a visage that reflected your own — a blushing mess. "That- that's better..." He whispered, giving you a bashful little smile.

You let out a soft whimper as you two locked eyes... Oh that ruby gaze you could just get lost in— no, no, damn it. Damn it all! Why is he like this?!

"Okay, okay..." You took a deep breath, closing your eyes, showing him the gifts you had prepared. "I... like you." Voice growing weaker with each word that you let out.

And there it was — the feelings you held in for months on end, out of the bag.

A few moments of silence ensued, the beating of your heart growing louder, almost deafening in your ears—

Until you felt a pair of arms wrapping around you, squeezing you tight. Not even taking the gifts first, huh....

He giggled, sighing of relief, refusing to show you his face. "I hope you're sure about that..." He muttered, letting his warmth envelop you, hiding his face from you. Your legs trembling from the sensation.

"Uh- mhm, I'm sure." You reassured him, unable to return the fluffy embrace as, well, you were holding the box of cookies and card in both your hands.

He pulled back slightly, glancing at the things you made him, "Oh, right! Sorry, let me take these real quick." he said, taking the sweets and the card from your grasps.

Checking the card's contents, he chuckled, "'For you'... and, is this supposed to be me?" He asked, showing you the card that you made for him — and yes, that was him in all his doodled glory. It wasn't as good as his own silly scribbles, but that unwavering smile of his indicated that he didn't care, and he absolutely loved it.

He placed your gifts on the bench, separated from the rest that he received earlier. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. His hand on his face as he looked at you.

Silence... Before he'd walk back towards you, wrapping you with his arms once more. "Thank you... I... really like you too." He admitted awkwardly, hushed. "So, I'm... very happy." He continued, hearing his voice tremble ever so slightly.

You returned his hug with your own, squeezing him back. The butterflies in your stomach fluttering about rapidly — you couldn't help but to lean on him.

"I'm happy too..." You whispered back, basking in his affection, catching a whiff of his cologne mixed with the scent of the sunny day that went by... It tickled your nose in a good way.

...

"... You better not be crying," you quipped, as he didn't speak after a few seconds.

He scoffed, "Er- hmph, no I'm not." his voice coming out nasally, oh.

Wait, was he actually crying?!

You pulled away, catching a glimpse of his flushed face, tears of joy, you hoped, trickling down his cheeks.

"Hey, don't look at me—!" He managed to say with a chuckle, before getting cut off by you cupping his cheeks, and wiping his tears with your thumbs, causing him to look at you, wide-eyed.

"No, no, I'm gonna stare, and stare real hard." You teased, giving him a bright smile. His cheeks heating up even more from your words. "You're so dramatic sometimes—" You continued to joke, but now was his turn to catch you off guard.

He took one of your hands, and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles, his lips lingering a little too long. Smiling charmingly afterwards despite him tearing up just a second ago.

You stared at him, flabbergasted, oh you definitely kept your word... He bested you yet again...! You grumbled, the thumping in your chest growing louder in your ears, but you couldn't look away from him.

This... is so unfair!!

"You were saying?" He let out a light laugh, "So cute..." he remarked, causing shivers to run up your spine.

"Damn it..." You pouted, pulling your hands away, and taking a few steps back. "That was so uncalled for..." you grumbled.

He merely laughed, "You've done worse, you know! I'm sorry!" before leading you to take a seat on the bench, next to the pile of sweets.

"Alright... Why don't we eat yours first?" He offered, taking the box you gave to him in his hand, looking at you for your approval.

Recovering from what just happened, you cleared your throat, "Sure, sure... I don't mind." flashing him a smile.

He nodded, opening the tin box of cookies, he beamed, "These look delicious..." he muttered, his eyes twinkling at the confections sitting on his lap.

He reached out his hand to you, offering you the first bite. Making your heart skip a beat — it wasn't the first time he offered you food, but when it's this setting...

"No, you eat it first!" You waved your hands dismissively, but stubborn as he was, he continued to offer it to you. Not taking no as an answer.

But to be fair, if you continued to resist, it'd turn into a back and forth of insisting the other should eat the biscuit first... So you accepted it, and took a bite.

"Mm." Unsurprisingly, it was good. You picked it out yourself, after all!

Seeing your reaction, Kaveh picked up a cookie as well, taking a bite. Hearing a delighted hum leave his lips, you let out a sigh of relief that you weren't aware you were holding.

You continued to look at him as he savored your gift with a smile.

Everything has calmed down, and both of you were aware about each other's feelings now. But whatever that would come next would be for tomorrow, because right now, both of you would savor this memorable moment — the taste of the sweetness of cookies, each other's company...

... And the brokenhearted admirers of Kaveh watching from afar.

[luveline]

jade my darling, could i please request the bf that is fred weasley looking after r with an ear infection? it could be muggle OR modern!au and not in the asf universe but up to u <333 i just need comfort from my freddie because i am in immense pain with a probable ear infection (spoiler: it sucks!)

sorry this took me those two days sweetheart i hope you're doing better now!! asf fred x fem!reader

"My mum said I should give you mudwort and lavender tincture," Fred says. 

"Both sound awful," you mumble, laying on your back on the sofa, hands held out to take his as he approaches. He tried to make you chew mudwort this morning, you vehemently denied it. 

Fred looks bitten by the cold, though he's barely been gone for ten minutes. Quicker to go see his mum and ask for a solution than pen a letter and wait for her to get it. He crouches down next to you and feels along your forehead with his cold fingers, a nice relief. 

"You okay?" he asks. 

"I'm okay, please don't make me take mudwort." 

"No, I won't," he assures you. He's wearing a frown, the 'my heart is so broken for you' expression he actually lets you see these days. 

"You used to do all your worrying secretly," you mumble. 

"So did you," he says, kissing your head carefully. 

You wince despite his gentleness, the ache in your ear having pervaded into your teeth and brow, even behind your eye. "Can I have more painkillers now?" 

"Yes, I think so. It's not quite been four hours, but," —he sighs and kisses your hand before letting it rest on your chest— "I don't think it's alright for you to be in this much pain, lovely girl." 

Even now his pet names make you giddy. Smiling through the pain, you pull the throw blanket he's laid over you upto your chin. You haven't cried for a few hours, but the pain is acute and building fast. Your eyes hurt, your nose hurts, Fred's too far away and his stupid brother hasn't come to see you, either. 

"Will George be coming over?" you ask. 

Fred pops ibuprofen and paracetamol into his hands. If you're refusing mudwort (as you have from the beginning of your sickness), then those will have to do. "Round two." 

"Time is it now?" 

"Two. Sit up, then, you can have these with some apple juice." 

You blow out a suffering breath and sit up. Your ear feels better for it, honestly, so you elect to stay sitting, taking your tablets and shifting your legs to make room for your devoted boyfriend to sit beside you. Luckily you're not contagious. Fred's the one who made you sick, and he got sick from one of his many siblings who got sick from who knows, but so far you're the only person to suffer with an ear infection. 

He's free to sit close to you and ogle you shamelessly. "You're still very, very pretty, even when you're ill. How do you manage that?" 

You smile at him. It's a sad smile, too pained to really give him much minding. "Practice," you joke. 

Fred appreciates your effort. He pulls your arm into his lap to touch gently, drawing shapes and stars and spirals into your hot skin. 

"Mudwort's not as bad as you remember," he begins lightly, his nonchalance a dead giveaway that it is definitely as bad as you remember. "It's like long grain rice, you know?" 

"It tastes like clay if clay was evil." 

"Yeah," he says, his guilty smile making apples of his cheeks, his freckles dancing. "Okay. The lavender tincture will be ready in a bit, you don't have any qualms against lavender, do you?" 

"Quite like lavender," you mumble, closing your eyes. You're too tired to stay alert but hurting too much to sleep. 

"I quite like you, ghost," he murmurs. Ghost a silly nickname and not silly at all, a lasting moniker that the twins defer to whenever they feel like being especially affectionate. You used to be very quiet before you met them, like a ghost. 

You frown deeply as a wave of throbbing pain worsens. Lost in it, you're unsure how much time passes, but George arrives at the same time as the tinctures ready, sitting gingerly beside you. 

"This is very unfortunate," he says. He pokes your arm. "Fred does realise that if he fails to look after you, we'll only have Lee Jordan left?" 

"You love Lee Jordan," you mumble. 

"Ah, but I love you more." You squint at him. He looks a lot like Fred, but he doesn't look at you as Fred does. When Fred looks at you, it's with a lovelorn, inescapable fondness, like he wants to wrap you up in his arms for days at a time and just hold you. George grimaces at your dishevelled appearance. "Well, I loved you. I'll give a heartfelt eulogy." 

"We aren't best friends anymore," you complain, pushing at his hand ineffectually. 

Fred sits down. You'd barely recognised his departure. "I think you should mercy kill me," you say, scrunching your eyes closed. You're joking but tears well unbidden along your lash line, trying hard to push out. You scrunch your eyes harder. 

"You'll be okay," Fred promises, tincture in hand. "I promise. You'll have a couple of drops of this, okay?" 

"Wait, I have to eat it?" you ask, suddenly much more reluctant. 

"Yeah. I'll take some too, if you like. We'll all have lavender mouths." 

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, knowing Fred will dropper the tincture into your mouth. It's oily and tastes cloying. George presses a cup into your hands, and you drink quickly to get rid of the bad taste.

You nearly gag, swallowing roughly against the oily feeling coating your teeth. 

"Bet you wish you'd taken the mudwort now." 

"Shut up, George." 

George doesn't shut up. He doesn't yell, but he talks to you for a while, staving off tears with his presence alone. He gives your hand a good squeeze as he says goodbye, promising to bring you a proper jar of sweets if you make it through the infection. 

"I notice you haven't offered me anything," you tell Fred as he sits down. Tears bump down your cheeks from the pain. You're trying to ignore them. "I want things, you know." 

"That's music to my ears," he says, pulling your head toward his chest gently, giving you the chance to stop him if it hurts. "I love when you want things. I'll get you literally whatever it is you want just as soon as you can fight your poorly ear off." 

Fred gives you a tiny kiss at your crown. You sniffle.

"What can I do?" he asks. 

"This is really perfect," you say, wiping your tears away before they can tickle. "I have everything I need until it's over. You and paracetamol." 

He knows how much you mean it. Nearly every horrible thing you've lived through has been while you were holding his hand. Fred looks a little like he could cry himself as he smiles at you, stroking your damp cheek with the back of his hand. He softens his touch as your eyes flutter closed, his voice like a hum as he says, "Sorry, lovely. I didn't mean to make you so unwell." 

"I could've slept on the sofa," you say with a shrug. 

"But you insisted on taking care of me, and now you're not well," he says, kissing your crown a second time. "I'm sorry. Please try not to cry, okay, it's only going to hurt more." 

"You need to distract me, then," you say, pursing your lips for a kiss. 

He leans down to give you the kiss you're craving. "Love you," he says, all smushed. 

"I love you, Freddie," you say, dropping back down into your cushion nest. "Don't feel guilty, okay? Everyone gets sick." 

"I just don't like you getting ill. You've had a rough enough go." 

You breathe in through your nose, pulling his upper arm toward you so he can't run away. He wouldn't, but still. 

"I can manage. Have a really nice boy looking after me." 

Fred makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan and settles down next to you for the long haul. "You're easy to look after. Try and have a rest, yeah? Let's kip." 

[fr-wiwiw]

well, to indulge myself i'm writing this post to ramble and share a bit of my Gahan barbarian!au. it's going to be a bit of a long post i think, we'll see.

i saw noel's post about their gladiator!yohan & prince!gaon (check it here!) and it makes me miss writing the arranged marriage barbarian!au i have, it only has what.. 3 or 4 chapters I think. you can read it here.

i've always been fascinated by the visuals of medieval, historical, period era. even post apocalyptic future settings like Horizon Zero games franchise.

i think i started au bcs i've played too much Assassin's Creed Valhalla— i haven't finished it yet, too preoccupied with Monster Hunter World— but i have sketched my female Eivor several times in my sketchbook. this was when i'm curious and interested enough to draw human but haven't fully grasped the gesture, anatomy, shapes and all. i usually draw what i take interest on and it helps me tremendously, to keep on learning and push through my frustrations.

and of course.. my Gahan brainrot picked it up. hence the barbarian!au for TDJ born

i have sketches of Gahan in this au, i think i've shared them here too but i'll re-share here. it doesn't catch many eyes, i admit it's a bit of a bummer but I like the idea anyway. I used to imagined them before I went to sleep, now it's idol/celeb!gaon x mysterious husband!yohan that's occupying my mind. but anyways! here are the sketches.

1st sketch is me trying to see his body proportion in viking/barbarian attire. the upper left sketch was me wanting to see modern Yohan stripping off his clothes ig haha.. anyways, between Gaon/Jinyoung and Yohan/Jisung, it's VERY difficult to nail down his face. less lines doesn't resembles him at all and add some more lines he looks too realistic to my simplified version of Gaon/Jinyoung. it was hard trying to find the balance for these characters to be in the same picture and look like they belong in the same style. i want to do Yohan/Jisung's pretty face justice but i still struggled in this sketches. i think this was 2021? 2022?

2nd sketch— his long protruding neck lmao i haven't fully grasped how a person can pose naturally but it came out as if he has turtle neck syndrome going on. well done Yohan! you are a turtle apparently according to my hand. all jokes aside, this was me attempting to paint his face bcs i never really attempted to paint gahan. i doodled and sketched more than i paint/rendering and i'm on my way to learn more of rendering daily if possible, alongside with my daily sketches. you can also see i've tried to give some color to his attire and some medallion or such. do you see a braid there? i will get there, the braid is something significant in this story ;)

3rd sketch is basically me planning out his character design as a barbarian/viking chief. you can see bits of references cuts here and there, took me quite some time bcs i just started to really try my hands on concept character design properly— i love cloaks and capes and vikings has exactly just that, and the winter times are especially my favorite type of attire on them so i thought why not give Yohan polar bear fur as his official formal attire while still flaunting his wonderful body to the world be it summer or winter lmao. here's where you know it's fantasy. i'm sure people back then drink ales and what not to keep their body warm so they can go bare-chested in winter even but i'm sure the day after that they will regret it. but i make Yohan and his clan to have special abilities for living in cold places. doesn't mean i don't make them wear winter attire but this is only bcs i want him to be bare-chested xD the one I post here was before i dabble on the sketch a bit more. hopefully one day i can share it again with more updates for this au.

now.. onto Gaon's sketches.

he's a Prince in this story. his parents, the King and the Queen, arranged a marriage for him for political reasons. but they have special reasons as to why they pick Yohan, aside from political purposes, to be their son's betrothed and gave him away to Yohan's barbarian clan.

1st sketch (ignore the upper left, that's Jinyoung from his other drama). i want to see him in medium and long hair length. there's a purpose to this. he has his canon Gaon hairstyle when he was the Prince in the palace. but with time and some adjustments living with Yohan and his barbarian clan rubs off on him. perhaps it's due to that, or he's grown tired to cut it off again and again (he has no one to groom him properly now unlike in the palace), practical reason is to maintain heat around his neck while in winter, or it's his idea of adapting and blending in with the enemy. you can't blame him for being wary. he's whisked away from his comfort place and home and married off to a fearsome and famous barbarian on the land at that time, almost willingly got raped by Yohan on 1st chapter (yes, you read that right). other reasons why he grows his hair, as i mentioned the culture rubs off on him, is something to do with the hair braiding too. and personal reason is that i want to see pretty Gaon in long hair lol

2nd sketch on the left was him on early days on Yohan's fur beddings. the right was him perhaps laughing out loud by some surprising and amusing thing Yohan said after living with him for some months, you can see the different hair length there. gosh he looks unalive in here lol idk why.. my sketches were still rigid here

3rd sketch is them after establishing a genuine intimate relationship and Yohan has to be away to fend off some unexpected visitors. unfortunately it cost Yohan some of his men's lives. but he made it back to his clan and his betrothed. i make it as if Gaon was anxious waiting for him and one of the barbarian shouted for Yohan's arrival and he ran immediately. lunged at Yohan perhaps, the barbarian Chief managed to catch him but didn't quite have the strength to carry them both upright as the weariness sinks into him post battle & adrenaline wearing off of him. he's home now, in Gaon's arms.

now.. the hair braiding.

barbarians/viking has long hair and braids on their hair. styled cascading down or up into a pony tail or a mohawk and such. idk if this is historically correct but i'm winging most of this anyway but the idea of braids in this story is that it's significant to lovers. it's a mark between special intimate relationship (like lovers, spouses, soulmates). one can have a braid or braid their lover's hair should they wish to, it's very intimate and special for them. jeweleries might have certain status symbol for them and their ranks but I also prefer these barbarians have something simple to symbolize their intimacy. something that can get overlooked but enough for their significant other to know (and some people) what it means.

I like the idea of Yohan having accessories for his attire but his hair is clean from braids. clearly it's saying something if you've read this far and seeing my sketches for their different stages of relationship. over the years of them finally developing feelings and genuinely established a relationship, despite already being married an Gaon almost got raped by Yohan, they are lovers.

yet Yohan never really initiates anything about him wanting to have braid(s) or braiding Gaon's hair. he might have explained about what braids are to Gaon when the bambi was curious or off-handedly commented something about it. Gaon really finds out the real meaning from Yohan's ppl and he wonders why Yohan never asks or wants braids from him. then he realizes Yohan has always been respectful to him, even years after that night he almost raped him. always keeping healthy distance, outside of their sex and other intimate physical affections, he usually waits until Gaon ask first regarding intimate things. not that he never initiates things, he figures something as serius and committed as this is something Gaon wants to have an option to bail out from. they were arranged to have marriage for political reasons after all, Gaon has the freedom to not have feelings for him as long as he stays within the wedding pact rules Yohan make with the King & the Queen ( for Gaon's sake too). He never expects to have feelings for the Prince and he always keeps the option of Gaon falling out of love of him one day. it is only fair, he thinks.

but then Gaon asks him if he wants Gaon to braid his hair. the Prince never ceases to make him falter. it still shocks and amuses him, to have someone have this much effect on him. even with nervousness and blushing state Gaon is in now after uttering those words.. Yohan wonders what he has done to have this kind of luxury to have someone this precious in his arms.

and if his people noticed a single braid just near the back of his neck when wind swept his hair or if he pulls his hair into a ponytail on hot summer days? they will all grin smugly.. Yohan likes to keep it a bit hidden from view mainly bcs it's practical and he doesn't want ppl to accidentally graze it off when he's having friendly wrestle matches or axe practices. or even having people cut it off when he's at war. he doesn't hide it per se, it's visible when it's visible. Gaon smiles sweetly and adoringly when he finds this out bcs to him, it feels as if Yohan is unconsciously protecting it. protecting their relationship, protecting Gaon.

and if Gaon walks out of Yohan's tent, that days when he asks if he can braid Yohan's hair, with a braid or several on his hair? visible to everyone? the people cheer and roar in celebration. they throw a huge feast and toast to their relationship, congratulating the power couple. wishing the gods to give these two their blessings and to protect them. they're finally able to see their Chief have a partner that is equal to him. it's a memorable day

but if you think this story doesn't come with heavy angst, tears, pain and betrayal.. well think again ;))

i will stop here. thankyou for reading! i hope i can pick up this au again in my drawings & writings

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Hello! Firstly I wanted to say that I'm an old fan since your overwatch days and I've always admired how much depth you're giving all the characters and relationships you touch! I'm talking like, mariana trench DEPTHS. And how confident you seem about just doing the things you enjoy and exploring the themes you want? I really respect that.

I'm having a bit of an art crisis recently and I was wondering If you could offer some advice?

I'm thinking about self-indulgence in art, particularly fanart. I like to dive in deep to expand on characters, I find it as enjoyable as creating my own work. But I fear of people getting angry at me for latching onto these characters, thay they'll say the original work wasn't THAT deep, or that I'm completely wrong or cringe or whatever. And I don't care about being right or anything, I just want to have fun here and tell my little stories? :( The fear is making me keep the work to myself and I don't know what to do. Would it be better to just enjoy it on my own?

Your blog really is goals when it comes to that, so I'll respect your opinion a lot. Thank you for your time!

holy moly thank you so much for your sincerity first of all!! Second, this is making me misty eyed ngl!! I have alot to say about this so i shall put it under a read more bc im gonna ramble

If someone cares about you fixating on your fave characters, then they're usually the fucking weirdos in this situation if they dont just block you and move on. I LOVE making shit up about my faves like i have a modern au hc that kakashi and gai are ddr competition rivals and i gave yeehan 7 dogs just for funsies!! we were in the trenches in early overwatch making up our own lore bc there was none and it was so fun

I've always been like that now that i look back bc when i first started uploading my shitty ms paint fanart on deviant art in like 2006(naruto funnily enough we've come full circle) i was still drawing cringey shit /I/ wanted to see. I don't agree with almost all of it today, but i remember the fun i had while making it, and that's really the trick. Drawing what you personally want to see then people can come and go audience wise. If they like it, they like it, if they dont? oh well! There's people who still follow me from when i was 14 and i follow them even tho we're in completely different spaces now.

The fanart part i vibe with personally bc im really bad at coming up with totally original work and premises. i much prefer having pre-established rules and worlds to work with (plus the characters i love getting massacred in the writing i HAVE to save them)

Just existing online will garner you mean comments or asks, and my best advice is its not worth it to take the bait even if its absolutely absurd and wrong, i just block and go now, and im much happier :) this all being, of course, as long as what you're doing isnt harmful, bc even with good intentions, you'll mess up/blunder eventually. If the heat gets too much for you, no one will judge you for withdrawing your art from social media. thats a perfectly safe thing to do to keep it for yourself.

As an adult, shits not that serious im 28 drawing naruto fanart bc it makes me happy after a long day of work, so have fun!! art's supposed to be fun don't let the fear win i love sharing my art with strangers on the internet!! Hope this made any sense at all and I wish you the best, my friend!!! If you ever wanna dm me, feel free

[atwooozi]

gojo x reader

Chapter 17: Stay With Me

summary: Over pizza and a lighthearted TV show, Ai notices a rare vulnerability in Gojo that draws them closer. As the night progresses, the two share quiet moments, from sorting through photos to watching a bizarre horror movie.

genre: modern AU, slice of life, comedy, eventual romance, eventual smut, some angst

A/N:

Hello again! We're actually getting to a point where I need to start writing up some fresh chapters. The ending for this half of the story is in sight but we still need to connect everything to make it work if that makes sense. I'm really excited and proud of what I've created and to those who are reading it thank you for following this story like you have.

The song for this week's chapter is iconic if you love city pop. It's called 真夜中のドア/Stay With Me by Miki Matsubara . Whenever this song comes up for me on shuffle I always find myself a bit nostalgic but happy. I feel that while we don't know much from Gojo's perspective the lyrics kind of capture what he's thinking.

READ ON AO3

When Gojo had come back from the gym, Ai and Geto were sitting in front of the TV with a pizza box in between them, watching Takeshi’s Castle. Ai looked towards the door when she heard it open and she smiled Gojo’s way, giving him a small wave. 

When Gojo opened the door, he looked somber–if Ai hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have believed it. As he entered, he looked as if he was carrying the world upon his shoulders, but when he noticed that someone was there to welcome him home, it was as if he had become weightless. Ai wasn’t so deluded as to think that it was only because of her presence–after all, his best friend was there, in addition to a warm meal. 

Ai also had days when she would come home to her apartment after an especially hard day of work, and at those times she likely looked similar to Gojo—longing to be greeted by someone as she walked through the door. But unlike Ai, Gojo always had to be “on”. No one cared if Ai seemed quiet or sad, but what would people say if Gojo stopped wearing that same smile, day in and day out?   

“Satoru, come eat while the pizza is still hot,” Geto called out. 

Gojo threw his gym bag off to the side and plopped himself in between Ai and Geto with a smile. 

“How many people have made it so far?” Gojo asked as he looked up at the large TV in front of them. 

Ai smiled as she watched Gojo and Geto, listening to them quietly talk about the show while she chewed on her slice of pizza. Gojo’s hair was still damp, and he had changed into more casual clothes. He seemed much more relaxed than she had ever seen him before. It made her heart feel warm. She wished she could take a picture of him at this moment and save it forever

“Ai-chan!” 

Ai jumped a bit when she heard her name. 

“W-what?” Ai huffed, she felt her cheeks flush.

“Do you want more?” Gojo asked with a smile. “I’m pretty hungry.” 

“Go ahead.” She waved her hand at him and shifted her attention to the TV.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Geto had left first, he said that if he didn’t leave any sooner than he did he’d end up sleeping there, and while he usually would he had some commitment in the morning that he couldn’t miss.

Ai wasn’t sure why she stayed. Maybe because she didn’t want to imagine Gojo alone with that sad look on his face. There wasn’t any other reason for her to stay otherwise so she was helping Gojo put away the pictures that she assumed Tsumiki had pulled out earlier that day.

“Those kids…” Gojo sighed as he collected some photos. “They just leave a big mess and leave.” 

Ai giggled as she handed Gojo the pile of photos that she picked up. “You call them kids but they’re only six and eight years younger than you. Technically they’re adults.”

Gojo snorted. “How adult were you at twenty?” 

Ai pursed her lips in thought and laughed. “My mom still schedules doctor appointments for me sometimes,” she admitted. 

“Exactly.” Gojo smiled gently. 

They continued to sort through the photos silently. Unlike other times when Ai would be alone with Gojo, she didn’t feel as anxious. There was tension there regarding where they stood, but the ease between them at the moment overpowered those underlying anxious feelings. For the first time, things felt comfortable, even if things weren’t clearly defined for them yet.   

“Hey Ai,” Gojo called out to her. 

Ai felt her heart jump. Gojo had called her by her name countless times now, but he dropped the honorific and without the usual bratty tone of voice it felt almost too intimate. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or collapse on the floor right there. 

“S-Satoru…” Ai cursed at herself for stuttering but did her best to remain cool. However, when Gojo cracked a smile at her stutter she wanted to smack him upside the head. 

There was a moment of silence between them and it made Ai want to scream. Just when she thought she could feel comfortable Gojo pulled the rug right out from under her. It was as if he knew just when to push her buttons. 

 “Part of me wondered if…” Satoru hesitated for a moment, thinking of how to phrase his words. 

Ai glanced up at him, waiting for him to continue, but his eyes flicked away from her own.

“A part of me wondered if when I came back you’d be gone.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

There was a vulnerability in Satoru’s voice that she had never heard before. She almost felt like it was something that she wasn’t supposed to hear. She wondered how Satoru felt that night at karaoke or even when she left him at the train station…it made her heart sink. 

“I’m sorry,” Ai said in a soft voice. 

It didn’t even sound like her own. If she had heard it played back to her she would have a hard time accepting that such a sad sound had left her mouth. The sound wasn’t what she was ashamed of. She couldn't care less about that. She was ashamed of her pitiful apology. He had tried to bear his heart to her time and time again, but she pushed him away each time. She had been so frustrated that he wouldn’t open up to her, but she was the reason they were that way, and all she could say was “I’m sorry”. 

Satoru smiled down at her and gently ruffled her hair like he had many times before. Ai lifted her eyes to meet Satoru’s gaze and felt the tears well up behind her eyes as he looked at her with such undeserved tenderness. He slid his hand to cup Ai’s chin, his thumb idly rubbing against her bottom lip, which parted for him easily. 

Satoru’s eyes dropped to Ai’s mouth before speaking again, his voice falling into a low, quiet, but relaxed tone. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” 

Ai nodded her head silently. She didn’t agree with him, but she wasn’t going to beg him for forgiveness. He just wasn’t that type of person. Instead, she chose to enjoy his presence, he felt like an anchor which was funny since all of her anxieties seemed to stem from him, but in this moment, he grounded her.

“I’m glad I’m here,” she whispered. “With you.” 

Satoru’s smile softened, a warmth illuminating his features as he leaned in to press a feather-light kiss against her forehead. “Stay with me a little longer.” He murmured, his words laced with sincerity. 

And so she did…

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Ai was wearing a pair of Gojo’s shorts and a T-shirt. Even his casual clothes were expensive just by the way the material felt against her skin. She had a sneaking suspicion that the shirt she was wearing could cover at least half of her rent if not all of it. 

She sighed and sat down on Gojo’s plush couch, cozying up against the arm of the seat. She wanted to take up as little space as possible. The whole situation filled her with anxiety, so the smaller she could make herself, maybe the easier she could disappear. They hadn’t done anything wrong. They didn’t even kiss, but the intimacy of it all weighed heavily on her. Despite not crossing any physical boundaries, the emotional walls had started to crumble. 

“You okay, Ai-chan?” Gojo asked as he came out of his bedroom with a blanket. 

Ai flinched when she heard her name but nodded. “Mhm.” 

Gojo pursed his lips and gave Ai a skeptical look as he plopped himself down next to her. 

“You sure?” He asked teasingly as he leaned his face in closer.

“Yes,” Ai pouted as she tried to shrink away from him. “Do we have to sit like this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Ai frowned at Gojo. “You have this big couch and you’re practically on top of me.” 

Gojo broke into a smile and laughed. “You don’t want me on top of you, Ai-chan?” 

Ai’s face flushed and she looked away from Gojo. “Just move over, Gojo…” she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest.  

“Satoru,” he corrected as he gave Ai some space. 

Ai relaxed some when Gojo eased off of her. She watched as Gojo scrolled through a list of movies to pick from. He looked so at ease as if this was a regular day for him.

“Do you like scary movies, Ai-chan?” Gojo asked suddenly, breaking the silence. 

Ai thought about it some and shrugged. “I don’t hate them.” 

Satoru grinned. “Then we can watch my favorite movie.” He turned to the screen, hitting a button on the remote. “If you get scared I won’t laugh at you too much.” 

Ai rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the screen. “Your favorite movie is Human Earthworm Four?” 

“It’s good!” Gojo insisted. “Have you seen it?”

Ai sighed as she wondered what she had gotten herself into. “I couldn’t even get through the first one. It was so gross.”

Gojo busted out laughing, his laughter filling the room and washing away whatever tension that remained. “It’s not that bad!” he teased, giving Ai a playful nudge. “This one is more of a romance, anyway.” 

Ai gave Gojo a skeptical look. “I can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not.”  

Gojo grinned mischievously and pressed play. The opening credits rolled, and Ai could already tell that it was going to be a memorable night at least. She stole a glance at Gojo, who was leaning back comfortably, looking far too pleased with himself. 

“I’m serious, Ai-chan. This movie is a masterpiece,” Gojo said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

Ai sighed, she really couldn’t tell if he was messing with her or not. “Fine, I’ll give it a chance, but if I have nightmares I will never forgive you.” 

Gojo chuckled and draped the blanket over both of them. “Deal.”

As the movie progressed, Ai found herself inching closer to Satoru despite her best efforts to stay composed. Human Earthworm 4 was even more grotesque and bizarre than Ai could have imagined. Now and then, Gojo would lean in to whisper to her to see how she was holding up, and if anything that put her more on edge than the movie ever could. 

At one particularly tense moment, Ai flinched and grabbed Gojo’s arm without thinking. He looked down at her hand and then back up at her face, a smirk playing on his lips. “Scared, Ai-chan?” 

Ai quickly pulled her hand away, her cheeks burning. “No! I just–you said this was supposed to be a romance.” 

“You need to learn some patience, miss.” Gojo teased as he gently took her hand back and held it in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Just watch, I’m here with you.” 

Ai’s heart raced, but she didn’t pull away this time. Instead, she did her best to focus on the screen, trying to ignore the warmth that was spreading through her at the simple gesture. She felt like she was in high school all over again with how shy she was acting over something so simple as holding hands. 

The movie ended with a bizarre twist that left Ai more confused than anything. She turned to Gojo, narrowing her eyes at him. Was this truly his favorite movie? 

“How can you call that a romance?” 

Gojo laughed as he looked over at Ai with tender eyes. “You didn’t see the love story? It’s all about connecting with someone despite their circumstances.” 

Ai shook her head in disbelief. “You’re insane…I must have missed that part when they revealed the human earthworm babies.” She couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “But…thanks for sharing that with me.” 

“Anytime, Ai-chan,” Satoru said softly, his tone suddenly more serious. “I’m really glad you stayed.”

Ai glanced up at him, she felt that anticipation build up within her again. “Me too, Satoru.”

They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, the mood shifting to something more intense. 

Then, Gojo broke the silence with a playful grin. “So, you ready to watch Human Earthworm Three? They make more sense this way.”

Ai groaned and threw a pillow at him. “Absolutely not!” 

Gojo laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “I was joking. No need to get violent, Ai-chan.” 

Ai huffed, settling back against the couch. She looked over at the goofy man who sat next to her and couldn’t help but smile. Oddly, she found herself feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the long day that was hitting her, or maybe it was how at ease she felt with Gojo. Either way, her eyes grew heavy, and she started to drift off. 

Gojo noticed and gently adjusted the blanket around her. “Sleep, Ai-chan.” 

She mumbled something incoherent, already half-asleep, and Gojo smiled softly. He rested his head against hers, letting the sound of her gently breathing lull him into a more relaxed state. 

For the first time in a long time, Gojo hadn’t felt that loneliness that he had become accustomed to. As Ai slept beside him, he promised himself that he would do whatever it took to keep this feeling alive.  

[sirowsky-stories]

Part 30 - The Finale

Pero Tovar and Female Reader (nicknamed Bee) Modern AU

The happily ever after awaits, but as always, there's a bump in the road.

Creator chooses not to use Warnings! This is 18+ONLY! Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that's read and commented, liked or lurked. I'm sorry to leave these guys, but I am very happy with this ending, so I hope you'll like it too <3

Word Count: 9485 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

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   You were getting married in a few days.    That was a tough thing to wrap your head around, even though it was the most wonderful thing ever. Not that it technically changed anything, it was just such a… Thing.    Everyone you’d told had been completely ecstatic about it, adding to the love-fest, but also unwittingly adding a level of pressure that you hadn’t really anticipated.

   You would’ve been fine with simply bringing your father and best friend to church, had a short ceremony and then just made dinner together and had a relaxed party at home.    But word had spread, not just through your family and friends but through your customers as well, and what was most surprising about it was that it was your old clientele that had been most excited, calling to congratulate and asking if they could join the festivities.

   And you hadn’t been able to turn them down. Not after they’d all been so understanding about your injuries and inability to draw anymore. Which was why the wedding had become a gigantic THING.    Over a hundred guests were coming.    You’d had to close the shop for the entire week just to give Abby enough time to organize and prepare everything, from flower arrangements to cakes, not to mention decorating.

   Your chosen venue was an old barn outside of the city, which had long since stopped being used for hay, and become a local dancehall instead. And while it couldn’t seat such a large crowd for a meal, it could seat them for the ceremony, and then they’d all have to take their chair with them out behind the barn, where the tables would already be set, and the lunch already served.

   All of which had been Abby’s idea, and while it had sounded a little spartan to you, your trust in your chosen sister was absolute, so you hadn’t questioned her choices even once.    She’d roped in both Dean and Claire to help with the food, cakes, and snacks, while other acquaintances of hers had provided the furnishings and the logistics of moving them to the location.

   So, thankfully, you hadn’t needed to do much at all, beyond deciding what you wanted to look like on the day. But that was perhaps also why you felt somewhat detached from the whole thing. Like it wasn’t actually happening to you.    Meanwhile, Pero was so wonderfully unbothered. He couldn’t care less how it happened, so long as you were happy with everything.

   And he’d heard you on the phone with so many of your old clients, hearing how moved you’d been to hear from them, so to him, it had never been a question of whether you should turn anyone down from attending.    To him, each guest was just a testament to your kind heart and the open arms with which you’d approached the world throughout your life.

   However, he was also completely drunk on you, ever since you’d decided to try for another baby, so you weren’t entirely sure that his perspectives were all that reliable.

   The morning before the big day was a Friday, and he seemed to wake up in some kind of breeding mode, perhaps as a result of the overall love-theme of that weekend, but in any case, he was downright feral from the moment he opened his eyes.    For forty minutes straight, he had you pinned under him, scarcely letting you move at all, whether you were on your front or back, while he relentlessly drove into you.

   His arms strained to constantly keep your hips elevated against him, and every time he came deep inside you, he refused to let either of you rest, or a single drop of his seed from going to waste.    Not until you were both so spent that your every muscle was trembling, and your bodies just couldn’t move anymore, did he finally let up and allow himself to collapse beside you.

   “Honey…” you breathed after a long pause. “Are you okay?”

   He was so exhausted that all you got in response was a small grunt at first. But after another few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at you.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

   “Don’t worry about it, I would’ve told you if I didn’t like it, you know that.    I’m just wondering where that came from?” you clarified, and he huffed a laugh, but it seemed like it was directed at himself.

   “You are ovulating, mi amor. It always drives me crazy, but since I will not get to touch you tonight, or tomorrow, I needed to make sure you would be full of me until then,” he explained, prompting you to ignore the fatigue in your body so that you could rise to your elbows, because you needed your head to clear.

   “Wait, what? How-… Since when can you tell if I’m ovulating? I didn’t even know that!” you exclaimed, truly thinking that he must be joking somehow.

   You weren’t actively keeping track of your cycles, beyond having a general idea of when your next bleed would be, because you and Pero rarely ever went a day without sex anyway, so it seemed superfluous.    Surely, he’d just counted the days since your period, how else could he possibly know?

   “You smell different,” he elaborated, turning your jaw slack in the process, leaving your mouth hanging open, which only seemed to amuse him. “It is a very enticing type of smell for me, it always makes me want to put my mark on you. Figuratively, of course.”

   “No way… that can’t be real,” you challenged, but he just smiled and scooted closer, demonstratively sniffing the skin of your lower arm.

   “Oh, yes, it is. You always smell nice to me, but for these few days, it gets… muskier. Richer and more noticeable. You smell like you normally do after sex, even before I’ve touched you.”

   “Seriously?”

   “Mm-hm,” he hummed, and he sounded really pleased.

   “Huh… I never would’ve thought that. I mean, I know we all have our own scent, but I really didn’t think that it could be that noticeable to anyone.    But wait, what do you mean you can’t touch me tonight? We never said we’d do the traditional night before the wedding stuff.”

   “We never said it, no, but I have a feeling it will happen anyway. There is so much to do today, and we will need our sleep for tomorrow, when we’ll both need to get up early and get started on preparations for what is also going to be a very long day.    And to be honest… it is a distraction. At least for me. And I don’t want to be distracted this weekend, I want to be in the present, with you, for all of it.    We have each other to enjoy carnally for the rest of our lives.”

   You sighed lightly, ending in a smile, because this man was just too damned sweet.

   “Well, when you put it like that…”

   He smiled with you, reached up to kiss you softly on the lips, and then started trying to coax his body back to life so that he could get up.

<><><><><> 

   Pero really was very excited about the wedding. He wasn’t even sure why, but it just felt like such a wonderful thing to get to celebrate his love for you among so many people, all of whom had had some form of positive effect on your life, and vice versa.    The only thing he was slightly saddened about, was the knowledge that the extent of the groom’s side was William and no one else. He had nothing more to bring. The rest of them would all come for you.

   But he was tremendously happy that so many people wanted to be there for you. And he was immeasurably proud that he’d get to stand before all those people and hear you confess your love for him.    The sadness he felt lay only in how poor he felt in not having anything but himself to share with you in return. An irrational sadness perhaps, since you’d already proven that none of that mattered to you.

   It was just such a harsh reminder of how alone he’d been before you. But also, of how rich you’d made him.

   Saturday did see the two of you waking up tired, following late night preparations and fixing of last-minute problems that had of course occurred, because it wouldn’t be a big celebration without at least a few mishaps for you to bemusedly recall in the future.    But you were both happy, even as you first woke up, despite the terrible fatigue and the comfiness of the bed that you now had to leave.

   You kissed good morning and then rolled out of bed to get the day started.    You’d agreed that breakfast was going to be a nice and calm affair, with just the three of you, plus Groot, both to give you a good start of the day, but also to make sure that you’d eat something before all the stressful stuff. Because once that started, you knew that you wouldn’t have time to sit down for a meal.

   Mae wasn’t in the best mood, though. She was sleepy in the mornings in general and didn’t approve of being woken extra early, so she was cranky throughout breakfast.    But it was still just a regular morning, and it was nice to just sit there and talk and let your minds have a rest from the party.    From now on, it would have to sort itself out anyway, because it was too late to change anything, and if something went wrong at this point, you’d just have to go with it.

   After the meal, however, it was time to split up.    Pero would take Babybee with him, while you went to get your hair and make-up done with Abby, after which, your bestie would bring your daughter back to you while he went to a barber and then Dean would help him with the suit.    And then it was pretty much gametime.

   William was gonna go with him to the barber and get a little makeover, or really just a tidying of his head-hair, after all his time in the bunker.    He was living in the country house with Dean and Abby now, so they’d brought him to the barn when they’d left that morning, making it easier for Pero to pick him up.    And getting there, he was astounded at how good it all looked in the daylight.

   Everyone but Will had all been there the night before, putting up the flower decorations, twinkle lights, and all the finishing touches, but it was still something else to see it all come to life under the sun.

   “There’s my boy! How you feeling, son?” Dean greeted him as he stepped into the barn with an impressed whistle.

   “Like the luckiest human being in the world,” he grinned in return, hugging the small mountain of a man.

   “Oh, I do believe you are, Mr. Tovar. Although, I am somewhat biased.”

   “As a father, I think you are allowed to be.”

   “Thank you,” Dean laughed warmly, before the men pulled apart.

   And right then, Mae came waddling through the grass, having made her way across the lawn on her own bare feet, with a watchful eye from her father, of course.

   “Babybee! My sweetest little angel, how are you?” the grandfather giggled, in his own uniquely booming way, and the child was immediately excited.

   “Baba!” she squealed and giggled, and then promptly fell on her butt when her focus was disrupted.

   She’d been quicker to learn how to walk than talk, but mama had unsurprisingly been her first word. Closely followed by baba, which she called both Pero and Dean.

   “Oh, my gosh, you’re getting so big! Soon you’ll be running off doing all the stuff you’re not supposed to do, and then we’ll all be in trouble,” the older man cooed while scooping her up in his big arms.

   “Mm, especially now when her parents will soon be busy with two of you,” the younger man added, making Dean splutter in shock.

   “What!? You guys are pregnant?”

   Ooops… He’d assumed that you’d told your father that the two of you were trying, you always told him everything.    But apparently, you’d been too busy to mention this part.

   “No, not yet… Ay, forgive me. I thought she had told you that we have started working on it,” he sheepishly admitted, but the older man just laughed heartily.

   “Nope. But that’s fantastic news, my boy! The family keeps growing. What a truly wonderful thing,” he chirped, and pulled his son into another hug.

   But as they parted once more, Pero’s eyes went around the room, looking for the only missing piece of the moment.

   “He’s out back, by the treeline,” Dean said, much more mellow as he noticed where the younger man’s focus had gone.

   “He did not wish to come inside?”

   “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what he wishes. It’s been a year and a half since Bee first got through to him, and still, it’s like he actively resists anything that might put a smile on his face,” the older man sighed with a mild shake of his head.

   “Well, let’s leave him be for now. I am sure Abby has left some things for us to do.”

   Together, the three of them put together the finishing touches in preparation for the guests, although Mae mostly just tagged along and babbled.    Their chores included fixing the welcoming drinks, putting the tablecloths out and then setting the tables, making sure all the chairs were accounted for since there weren’t any spares, and checking and double checking the sound systems for the microphones.

   Then the musicians arrived. You’d insisted on a live orchestra instead of a DJ, and that was what you’d gotten. Thirty performers strong, in fact.    And while the men listened to them warm up and test their instruments, they both had to agree that you’d been right. Living music being performed live would never top recorded music blasting through speakers. That was simply a fact.

   Shortly after that, Abby came back to take Babybee over to you so that the boys could start getting ready, and Pero couldn’t help but ask.

   “How does she look?”

   “Happy and very much in love,” was your chosen sister’s answer, and while it wasn’t what he’d meant with the question, it was still the perfect answer.

   “Good,” was all he could think to say in return, and then he darted off to find his brother.

   It took him a minute, because the man had moved from where Dean had suggested he’d been earlier, to sitting just outside the tent where the food was being prepared.  

   “Hey. Ready to go?” he asked once he got close enough to be heard.

   “Sure,” was all the other man replied, getting up and falling in beside Pero on their way back to the car.

   He was no chatterbox, nor particularly positive in general, but that morning he seemed even more down than what was his usual these days.

   “Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine,” the Spaniard reassured him, reiterating what he’d told him half a dozen times already.

   “I know,” Will answered dispassionately, as if literally nothing could ever excite him again.

   Once at the barber shop, both men took their seats beside each other while their barbers got to work, and throughout their visit, William never said a word.    Pero kept up a decent conversation with the young man working on him, who really was a chatterbox and seemed to love all things wedding-related, but after twenty minutes of hitting a stone wall, the other barber gave up, and joined their conversation instead.

   So, by the time they left, the Spaniard was somewhat annoyed with his comrade.

   “Are you even the least bit happy for me?” he asked quietly after parking the car back by the barn, but before stepping out of it.

   “Pero…” the other man sighed.

   “No, tell me honestly: do you want to be here at all today? Because no one is forcing your hand, but if you’re going to be here, then at least try to be part of the love, instead of sitting like a thundercloud in the distance, waiting to block out the sun.”

   Will closed his eyes and let his head fall forwards a bit then, seeming to struggle with something, although what that might be, his brother could only guess at, because the man seemed determined not to share his innermost thoughts with anyone.    For all his progress, he still kept himself cut off from the world around him, rarely even engaging with it even on a superficial level, much less in any meaningful way.

   “I’m not sure that I remember what happiness is, Tov,” he started, still with his eyes closed, but he opened them before continuing, staring out at the fairytale wedding your best friend had created with little more than nature and electricity. “But I see how happy you are, and I want that for you.    I want you to have everything that I never could.”

   “Ay, hermano… I know you do not see this, but you can still have those things too,” Pero tried, but then Will’s eyes fell shut again and he shook his head firmly.

   “No. Even if my heart somehow allowed it, my fear would never let me go there. That’s one part of me that even your wife can’t reach.”

   “Hey, do not get ahead of yourself, she’s not my wife yet.”

   “Sure, she is. Just not legally.”

   That made Pero chuckle, because it was absolutely true, and it was as close to a joke as he’d heard from his old friend in what felt like forever.

<><><><><> 

   Abby returned with Mae after just twenty minutes, at which point, the only thing you had left to do was put the dress on, which was going to be put off for as long as possible to prevent mishaps.    Which meant that there was nothing preventing you from just playing with your daughter for a while.

   You were back home while you waited for the boys to get ready, so all her toys and favourite things were available, and she had you all to herself, with the exception of one very pleased German Shepherd.    Groot had had his own little spa-day while you’d been in hair and make-up, getting bathed, blow-dried and combed until his coat shined, by the local dog-grooming specialist. And he was so proud of his impeccable exterior.

   Although, not too proud to still roll around on the floor and play.    Mae had learned that if she stood up and started walking, the dog would come to her side and let her use him as a crutch, or just keep her from hitting her head against things.    But the thing she loved the most, was if she happened to fall, because then he’d mirror her, dropping to the floor and rolling over as if he too had taken a spill.

   Almost like he knew that she might consider falling a failure, and wanted her to know that there was nothing wrong with falling, because everyone does sometimes.    In any case, it always made her smile when she saw him do that, no matter how sad or upset she might be, but since she was already happy today, it made her laugh hysterically instead.

   Soon enough, though, the door opened, and your father’s voice came booming through the house.    He had quite a tight schedule the poor man, but he seemed to love it. He was used to it, after all, as well as military level planning, and precision execution, so in truth, this was where he really thrived. In the thick of it.

   “Bumblebee? You still here, sweetheart? No cold feet?”

   “In the living room, dad. And my feet are currently too hot,” you called back, and watched him walk in and absorb the sight before him.

   Mae had decided to build a castle out of pillows and blankets, and for some reason, you needed to be the base of this castle, which was why you were on your back on the floor, with about twenty things on top of you, including the dog.

   “Hah, look at that. You might have a future architect here, Bee.”

   “Let’s hope so,” you chirped, just as your daughter realized that her grandfather had stepped in, and immediately abandoned the castle.

   “Go on and get dressed now, Bee. I’ve got everything set up outside, as soon as you’re ready, we’ll get going,” he smiled at you while picking up Mae.

   “Okay. Will you get her changed in the meantime? Her clothes are hanging on the crib.”

   “Yeah, we got it, mama.”

   Your baby had repeatedly proven herself to not like dresses, which was why her wedding outfit consisted of a crème coloured overall, soft and stretchy so that she’d be comfortable, and her favourite sneakers, which were green.    She was gonna have as good a day as possible, and that didn’t require her to look perfect.

   The same could be said for you, but you actually wanted to look a little dolled up.    This was likely to be the only time in your life when you were gonna have an opportunity to play Cinderella at the ball, or Belle at her dance with the prince, and you wanted to take the opportunity to live in a fantasy, just for this one day.

   Still, your makeup wasn’t over the top and while your hair was certainly better tamed than you’d ever manage on your own, it wasn’t tied up in any complicated fashion. Most of it hung freely, with just a few tendrils pulled back so that there’d be something to attach a few small white flowers to.

   The dress, however, was in a league of its own.    It was a sweetheart cut tulle dress, with a top layer of snow-white lace that had been embroidered with leaves and the same type of flowers that were now in your hair.    The skirt wasn’t flared, but there the lace had been bedazzled by thousands of beads and glass diamonds, most thickly gathered at the waist, carrying on down to your mid-thigh, before they started getting more scattered.

   It was a masterpiece, made and tailored just for you, by the wonder woman that was your sister Arabella.

   Stepping out of your room once it was on, your father momentarily lost all his marbles on the floor somewhere, along with his jaw, which was all the proof you needed that it was indeed perfect.    You smiled at him, and his mirroring smile was enough to bring tears of joy to his eyes.

   “Oh, my baby… you’re so beautiful,” he said through the stocking in his throat, while carefully stepping closer to hug you.

   “Thank you, dad. I feel really special today. Just so full of love…” you croaked in return, trying not to let your own tears spill, even though your makeup was waterproof.

   “I know what you mean. So, let’s go celebrate all this love, shall we?” he suggested, stepping back to pick up Mae, who was trying to grab the hem of your dress because it was shiny and much too tempting for baby fingers.

   But you weren’t bothered by her potentially picking a few little sparkles off, so you reached for her once he’d gotten her up, and he handed her to you without complaint.    Instead, he picked up your bag of essentials for the evening, slinging it over his shoulder before grabbing your phone and keys from the shelf in the hall, and then held the door for his girls so that he could lock it for you once you and Groot were outside.

   There was a small train on the back of the dress, just enough to make it fan out behind you, and he was quick to sweep it up while you made your way to the carriage.    Like the true romantic that your father was, he’d insisted on taking you to your wedding by horse and carriage, and it wasn’t some rickety old thing either. It was a retired Royal carriage that he’d bought on auction and restored to its former glory.    A convertible model, black, with silver detailing and deep green velvet on the seats.

   He helped you and Mae get in via the step that fell out whenever the door on the side was opened, letting Groot hop in last, and then he climbed into the coachman’s seat and grabbed the reins.    Happy and Ike were excellent carriage horses, content to trudge along at a moderate pace and would always stay perfectly still whenever they were brought to a stop, needing no groomsmen or helpers.

   Your daughter absolutely loved the ride, and joyously sat in your lap, pointing at everything she could see, for once not speeding past too quickly for her to even make anything out, getting increasingly excited every time you named what she indicated, even though she had no idea what most of it was.    Meanwhile, the dog sat on the seat opposite you, happily letting his tongue catch the wind.

   Since your house was already on the outskirts of town, the ride wasn’t that long, which resulted in you reaching your destination a little too quickly.    But, as it happened, that would turn out to be most fortuitous.    Because while you stopped a bit down the road from the barn, along a stretch that was lined on either side by very old maple and beech trees, a familiar frame came towards you.

   A gangly, middle-aged black man, with a digital camera that probably cost more than your average monthly salary, slung around his neck.

   “Mr. Okusanya… Hi. It’s so good to see you again,” you said, smiling at the memory of the only other time you’d seen him, nervously trying to order a drawing of a diamond-decorated cock, much to Pero’s polite confusion.

   “Thank you for letting me invite myself, Mrs. Tovar.”

   You glossed over the premature use of the name, because you already loved how that sounded, and really, what difference did an hour make?

   “After your kind response to my handicap and the loss of your order, how could I not?” you replied, unable to stop the slight sorrow that always accompanied any reminder of your lost skill and passion, from slipping into your voice and your expression.

   “Oh, never mind that. As it turns out, just voicing that particular interest without being ridiculed or belittled in any way, helped me to be a more confident person.    Thanks to your kindness, I’m getting married too, next year. And I never would’ve dared to tell him anything about that if you hadn’t opened the door for me first, so believe me, I am only ever grateful to you.”

   His words sent a flurry of warmth and compassion through your chest, as well as a slight swell of pride that you’d been able to do something so profound for this man, by just being yourself, leaving you speechless but smiling widely.

   “And on the subject of my gratitude, if I may, I’d very much like to repay you,” he added, after wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me take your wedding photos?”

   Stunned, you just stared at him for a moment, and then nodded your agreement, because it was just such a wonderful thing to offer.    You hadn’t even considered hiring a professional photographer, because you hadn’t felt up for the whole idea of structuring a photoshoot into your schedule and then having a stranger, and essentially a paparazzi, lurking about all day.

   But this wasn’t a stranger. And as a photographer, he was used to nature motifs, including animals which were generally mobile and required him to blend into the background not to startle them away.    Odds were, you’d never even notice him moving around the guests.

   “That’s very kind of you, sir,” your father suddenly entered the conversation, having stayed out of it while you got reacquainted, and because you hadn’t remembered to introduce him.

   “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!    Amari, this is my father, Dean. Dad, this is one of my former clients, Amari Okusanya,” you hurried to correct your mistake, and then remembered your child, still sitting on your lap. “And this is my daughter Mae.”

   The two men exchanged pleasantries and then Amari suggested taking some photos right there, with the gorgeous trees for a backdrop, while you waited for the clock to strike.    You stepped out of the carriage and followed his instructions, letting him move the skirt of the dress around to experiment with angles and movement, all the while feeling mildly lost since you’d never posed for anyone before.

   But he noticed and suggested taking a few pics with you by the horses, which instantly set you at ease. And then with Groot, then Dean, then all of you, then just you and Mae, and he kept going like that, just keeping you occupied, allowing him to snatch candid photos in between the posed ones.    Until you were suddenly out of time.

<><><><><><> 

   Pero heard the carriage arrive on the road outside the barn. The shoes that he had put on your father’s horses clapping against the pavement in a double rhythm, bringing him his bride and partner in all things.    It made his heart swell just knowing that he was about to have you beside him again, ready to declare to all these witnesses, that you had chosen him.

   He didn’t know who anyone in the room was, save for Abby, Will, Claire, Kate and Cody, but it didn’t matter. They were all there to celebrate your love, and for that, he appreciated each and every one of them.    William had taken the stage with him as his best man, but stood like a statue behind him, participating only with his presence, not his joy or excitement, which Pero could forgive because at least he was there. For a long time, that was more than he’d dared to hope.

   Abby was across from him, on the other side of the altar, ready to free your hands and support you in any way you might need, already smiling with tears in her eyes before you’d even arrived.    The two of you had been through so much together, throughout your lives, and been able to stick together through all of it, creating an unbreakable friendship that he would always cherish and protect.

   The orchestra was lining the entrance of the barn, so when they started playing, it was because you and Dean had told them that it was time.    That you were ready.    So, when the music started, everyone rose to their feet, and Pero sucked in a nervous breath, suddenly unable to see anything but the sunlight that shone through the door.

   Mae was too small to be a flower-girl, but Groot wasn’t.    He came first, walking down the aisle while pulling his little sister in a tiny cart, attached to him via a harness, both of whom Pero had designed and constructed especially for today.    And, ever the princess, Mae smiled and cooed as she was paraded in front of all the fancily dressed guests, all smiling at the adorable scene.

   Then suddenly… there you were.

   As if the sun itself had beamed you into that wide doorway, you seemed to glide into view, shining almost too bright for him to make you out at first, but as you stepped closer, the golden light released you, letting him see all of you.    His breathing slowed even as his heart pounded harder. Because however nervous he’d been before, your presence always soothed him. Even now.

   Unknowingly, he tried to step towards you, but a hand on his elbow held him back, reminding him that there was a procedure to this.    He heard Will’s voice somewhere behind him whisper almost reverently about how beautiful you were, and he could only nod in agreement.    He heard Abby snivel quietly, and saw your eyes turn to her with a tear-filled smile, just as you reached the altar and handed her your small bouquet of wildflowers, picked from around your house and the meadows around the barn.

   Then Dean’s large hand was suddenly on Pero’s shoulder, and he was slightly startled to realize that he’d never even noticed your father walking in beside you.    The older man was a mess of tears and smiles, pulling his adopted son in for a hug before he could bring himself to step aside, and let Pero step up to take his place at your side.    The two men laughed quietly together for a moment, at their own overflowing emotions, and when they pulled apart, you were smiling at them with an equally overwhelmed heart.

   With pride oozing from his every pore, Pero stepped over to you, offering you his arm for support as you climbed up the two steps onto the altar, while your other hand lifted the dress to keep you from tripping.

   “You look so beautiful, my love,” you suddenly said, while Abby fiddled with your skirt so that it wouldn’t twist around your legs.

   He hadn’t expected that hearing your voice would made his heart jump and pinch and bounce with excitement and gratitude, so when his own eyes abruptly filled with tears, he didn’t know what to do except just smile at you.

   “My sun…” was all he managed to choke out in response, but you understood.

   He had always been a star in your orbit. And he always would be.

<><><><><> 

   The entire ceremony was overwhelming for so many reasons.    Walking up that aisle and seeing him standing there, actually in awe of you, was almost more than your heart could bear.    Your ears registered Mae cooing and babbling when Groot brought her to Claire on the front row, next to the empty seat where your father would sit, but your eyes saw only the stranger.

   And in a single second, you saw everything that had happened between you.    From that first unwelcomed kiss, to finding him on your porch, inviting him in, letting him claim you… and everything that had followed because of it.    So much of it had been bad, but you’d still suffer through all of it again, a hundred times, for the love and joy and wonder that it had brought into your life.

   Then he was taking your hand, and his touch brought you back to the moment, to the reality of the man before you. The man you’d chosen, risked everything for, and allowed yourself to love without boundaries or restraints.    The words came of their own, from some part of your brain that you weren’t in control over right that second.

   You wondered if your face mirrored his in that moment. If you too looked as though the protective dam around your heart had burst open, flooding the air around you with rainbows, sparkles and sunshine.    You hoped so.

   The priest took over then, and as per your instructions, kept it short, sweet and light-hearted, as churchly rituals could so easily become stuffy and stale.    But this pastor was young and had a modern view of church, believing it to be something that needed to adapt to the present, as all things did, and had no trouble drawing laughter from the crowd and thereby stripping the ceremony of all nervousness or tension.

   You’d written your own vows, and just getting through them without forgetting every other word became another humorous spectacle, but one that you both felt entirely comfortable with.    Because how were you supposed to say such powerful and incredible things to one another, in front of a hundred people, without getting flustered? It was impossible to begin with, so there was nothing to do but laugh at it and soldier on.

   The engagement ring that he’d made for you had been made of steel, polished until it shined and then engraved with a planet.    And the wedding rings told the story to completion. Identical in every way, except that yours added a star next to your planet, while his depicted that same star, but falling into a symbol of infinity.    So simple, and so perfect.

   And then, finally, there was the kiss.

   The priest had only barely gotten through the sentence when Pero surged forwards. And you weren’t far behind yourself, resulting in a minor crash of your bodies against each other, and more laughter from the crowd, followed by cheering and applause.    But you barely even heard it over the rushing of your blood and the happy pounding of your heart.

   His arms held you so tightly to him, even long after the kiss had ended, unwilling to let you slip even an inch away from him. But not out of fear or possessiveness.    He just didn’t wanna let you go. He wanted to feel your joy just as much as you wanted to feel his. To touch your skin and feel how it warmed with the desired contact.    But most of all, both of you just wanted to live in that moment and never let it go.

<><><><><><> 

   The guests saw nothing strange at all about being asked to bring their folding chairs with them to their seats, and without complaints, grabbed one each and started making their way outside to the tables, where the food had been served during the end of the ceremony.    You hadn’t scheduled any speeches or really, anything at all past this point. From now on, it was just a feast, where the goal was simply for everyone to enjoy themselves.

   There were no seating arrangements and no folder with any program for anyone to read or stick to. Just good food, an orchestra that took requests, plenty of wine and beer for those that fancied it, and an announcement from you that everyone was welcome to dig in.    That was it. The rest would happen if it happened, and however it wanted to happen.

   During the meal, Pero really struggled to look at anything but you, or occasionally Mae when her sounds drew his attention. But she was with her grandfather and as happy as any kid could be, so his focus kept coming back to you.    He found himself watching the silliest little details about you, like how you held your fork, or how your throat moved when you chewed. The tiny hairs on your arms that fluttered in the breeze.

   Not one drop of alcohol crossed his lips, and yet he felt utterly drunk all day.

   “If I may have your attention, dear guests…” Dean eventually found the microphone, unable to keep from giving a speech to his only daughter on her special day. “I can’t let this occasion pass, without saying a few things.”

   His rich, strong voice carried to every ear across the open area, and everyone fell into a deeply respectful and complete silence.

   “A father’s greatest fear in life, is that his children won’t be safe. But when that life is good, and his children are safe, his fear instead becomes about their happiness. And for a long time, I thought I knew what a happy Bumblebee looked like.    But as it would turn out, I was very wrong.”

   He paused then, needing to swallow against the tears that were already coming.

   “When Pero entered her life, my daughter became something new to my eyes. Something I’d never seen before. It would take me some time to figure out what that was, but eventually, I realized that it was in fact, security.    It was the comforting and effortless happiness of knowing that her heart is safely held by someone else’s hands. Someone who truly values that gift and without hesitation, returns it.    Now, that doesn’t mean that life is suddenly perfect. But it does mean that the good moments, truly are as good they can be, and that’s something to be grateful for.    That’s what you give to my baby girl, Pero, and that is why I will always love you, my son.”

   If he had planned to add more to that speech, that plan was halted then, because that was as much as he could get through before the emotions became too overwhelming.    And not just for him.    Unable to let such amazing words go without acknowledgement, Pero rose and stepped over to the man, pulling him into a strong hug that saw them both break down for a minute.

   But when they pulled apart, it was with smiles in their features and joy in their hearts, even if their faces were drenched in tears.    And you were right there behind him, throwing your arms around your father’s neck as soon as it was free, letting him lift you off the ground with how tightly he held you.    The crowd applauded again, and there weren’t many dry eyes among them.

   After that, the late afternoon flowed in its own kind of rhythm, sometimes slow and mellow, with conversation and mingling, and sometimes energetic and loud, filled with dance and laughter.    It rose and fell, over and over, but Pero seemed to be sailing his own river in the middle of that ocean, remaining steadfast at the same pace, no matter how rowdy the seas churned around him. Undoubtedly lulled by his continued drunkenness on love.

   Until Groot suddenly placed his head in his lap and whined unhappily.

   The sound was so unexpected that it made him pause and turn his entire attention to the animal, and when he did, Groot got up and started walking away from the festivities.    He stopped when the human didn’t follow, looking back at him with another whine, so he got up and fell in behind the dog, wondering what he could possibly want to show him at that particular place and time.

   The canine led him across the entire field that connected to the barn, passed the horses that had been set free to graze while the festivities carried on, all the way down to the creek, the same one that trailed past your house, further up the road.    And when they got there, Groot indicated something of interest down by the bigger rocks that were closest to the water.

   “Of course, it must be down there…” he sighed, looking at the dog with a quizzical brow. “Do I have to? Can you not go down there and bring whatever it is you want me to see up here?”

   The animal just kept looking at the rocks, slowly wagging his tail while he waited for the human to get the message.

   “Fine. But just so you know, this suit was very expensive,” he griped as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

   Carefully climbing down the slippery bank, he miraculously managed to reach the bottom without any mishap, and started looking for whatever the dog was indicating.    At first glance, he missed it, because he wasn’t expecting it to be something that connected to his past. But once he saw the small hidden package, he already knew what it was going to be, and his heart skipped a beat.

   At the Falcons, they’d been taught that if they ever got separated from their partner and were fatally injured, to hide an identifying mark within a scarf or sock, and then use nature to conceal it.    They hadn’t worn dog-tags or anything specifically identifying like that, but their partners had known their every item of clothing and every one of their possessions.

   And since William had still refused to rejoin society, Pero was very much aware of exactly how few things the man now owned, and exactly how each of those things looked.    A worn and frayed cap that had once belonged to a young Dean, so old now that it no longer had any colour, had been bundled up and jammed down between two larger rocks, and then almost completely covered by mud and leaves.

   He pulled it out, placing it on one of the larger rocks before gently prying it open to find a neatly folded note, protected by a plastic bag, inside.    Sorrow filled his soul as he stuffed the bag into his pocket and started climbing back up the bank, somehow managing to escape without muddying up his pants, only to then sit down in the soft grass back at the edge of the field.

   Groot instantly knew that he wasn’t doing well, and sat down beside him, leaning his entire body against Pero’s side, for support as well as comfort.    He gratefully scratched the dog’s chest for a few beats, to thank him, but also to delay opening the note.    Because even if it wasn’t as bad as he feared, it wasn’t going to be anything good.

   He hadn’t seen Will at the party for a while, but he’d assumed that the man had just wandered off to escape the positive atmosphere for a bit, since he wasn’t susceptible to it, which probably made it grating to listen to and be surrounded by.    He really hadn’t thought that something like this might happen. Especially not now, after so much time had passed and so much progress had been made.

   But there was no avoiding it. He’d have to read it sooner or later, so he might as well get it over with now, when the atmosphere of love that was waiting for him back by the barn, would help him endure whatever pain this would cause him.    So, he pulled the bag out and ripped the plastic open, shoving it back in his pocket so it wouldn’t fly off on the wind while he unfolded and read the piece of paper, unbiddenly recognizing that it was a sheet from the shopping-notepad on Dean’s fridge.

   Which meant that he hadn’t done this on impulse. It had been planned, since early that morning, at the latest. But probably much further back than that.

   ~Pero,    I know that this will hurt you, especially today, but I can’t put it off any longer.    My life was supposed to end that day, with them. Everything after that has been wrong. Just layer upon layer of wrong.    I didn’t have it in me to end it back then, and I still don’t. But I’m also not gonna fight for a life that isn’t meant to be. I’ll leave my fate to nature, and if she decides to end me, I’ll finally get to rest. If she doesn’t, then I guess that’s just my penance.    Either way, this is our ending, brother.    I never deserved you, but I have loved you all the same.

   Please, tell your wife that I will forever carry her bravery and kindness in my heart. Tell her I’m sorry.    I am so very sorry.    Will~

   He read it three times before he could accept it. And then another three before the tears made it too hard to see.    The pain made him want to blame the man for giving up, after all your effort spent trying to save him, to give him a chance to live again. It made him want to scream and curse his brother to hell for making all that struggle and heartache and misery pointless.

   But he couldn’t, because that wasn’t true.    The harsh truth was that Will had never been given a choice. You and Pero had decided to try and undo Lang’s conditioning, unable to trust anything he’d said while under another man’s thumb.    And then, when you’d finally started breaking through, the two of you still hadn’t believed him when he’d asked you to stop.

   No matter how much progress he’d made, you had never heard him when he’d said that he didn’t want this life.    Because you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Either of you.    And that now left the Spaniard with two questions.

   Should he wipe his tears away, plaster a fake smile on his lips and go back to try and let the positive atmosphere purge his sorrows? Or should he take you aside and tell you what had happened, ruining the day for both of you?    But he already knew the answer, because there was no way that you wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes, no matter how well he tried to hide it.

   You knew about the conversation that had taken place between him and William that day when you’d invited him to the house, so you knew that he hadn’t been doing so good.    Still, Pero felt certain that this would somehow hurt you even more than it did him. Because to him, his brother represented his only good childhood memories, the only positive influence on his entire existence prior to meeting you.

   But to you, he represented something far greater.    Even with how briefly you’d known him, the poor man had somehow become tethered to your sense of hope, your belief in miracles and the healing power of love and acceptance.    And your husband feared that losing that was going to rip a hole through your soul.

   Even so, he couldn’t lie to you. Not today, when you were celebrating togetherness.

   He got up and started walking back, wiping his tears and straightening his tie on the way, doing his best not to let all the guests see how hard he was fighting to hold himself together, as he made his way through the crowd to find you.    But you knew at first glance, before he’d even reached you, and came to his side to follow him out of earshot from everyone.

   He couldn’t say it, so he showed you the note instead, and watched with a sinking heart as the words drilled through your being like blunt swords.    You didn’t say anything at first. You just closed your eyes and tried to breathe. Tried to keep it from overpowering you.    And you managed it a lot better than he had.

   “He’s gone,” you whispered, but it felt like you were saying it to yourself.

   As though you were trying to tell yourself, convince yourself, that this was the new reality and that you had to let it be.

   “I don’t know what to do…” Pero admitted, gesturing blindly towards the guests and the party, feeling so torn between the joy of the wedding and the sorrow of this unexpected tragedy.

   “There’s nothing we can do,” you said, and your voice was so sad, but also unexpectedly strong. “He’s gone.”

   It seemed that you had decided to lean on love, and to let that hold you up, at least until this day was over. And in your surprising resolve, he somehow found a path back to the light of his heart.    And as the day turned to evening, and the world darkened, revealing the thousands of twinkle lights that hung above the crowd and throughout the barn, the two of you did somehow manage to find your way back to a resigned sort of peace.

   Perhaps in the knowledge that he was still alive, or in the fact that at the very least, neither of you had made this decision for him.    That for the first time in a very long time, William Garin was free.

-=¤=-

   “Daddy!”

   “Hey, Mae-Mae! How was school?” he asked as his daughter came bouncing towards him, smiling widely as she waved a piece of paper in her hand.

   “It was fun! Look! We made pictures of our hands!” she excitedly explained while handing him the picture.

   “Oh, wow! That does sound like fun. Maybe we should ask mama if she has any fun paint at the shop, and we could all make pictures of our hands.”

   “Yeah!”

   “Yeah, let’s do that. But right now, we must go home and let Groot out.”

   “Okay, daddy.”

   He opened the car door for her, and since she was three years old now, she could climb in and up into the car-seat by herself.

   “Hi, Jace!” she called once she was in her seat, but Pero gently hushed her.

   “Shh… He is sleeping, angel. We will wake him when we get home.”

   “Oh. Sorry,” she whispered, trying to peer at her little brother at the other end of the backseat.

   “It’s good that you are excited to see him, just remember that he is still very small and has lots of growing to do.”

   “And we grow best in our sleep, right daddy?” she proudly repeated what you’d told her on numerous occasions when she’d been trying to stay up past her bedtime.

   “That’s right.”

   He booped her nose and then made sure she was safely buckled up before closing the door and getting in the driver’s seat.    Once home, he let her out first, handing her the house keys once she was on the ground, before rounding the car to pick up his nine-month-old who loved nothing more than to sleep, and especially in the car.

   “Hey, dormilón… time to wake up, we’re home,” he cooed once the boy was in his arms.

   Meanwhile, Mae was already unlocking the front door to let the patient Shepherd out, giggling as he playfully bounced around her before running over to greet Pero and make sure that everything was alright with the family, before he felt okay to go relieve himself.

   While they waited for you to get home, Pero played with Mae while simultaneously tidying up the house, getting dinner started, changing Jace’s diaper, and doing some laundry.    The trashcan in the kitchen was full, so while his son had gone back to sleep, he told Groot to keep an eye on the girl while he took the garbage out to the bin.    He had absolute faith that the dog wouldn’t let his daughter anywhere near anything dangerous in the minute that it would take him to get back.

   But just as he’d dumped the bag into the bin, a movement to his left caught his eye.    It was so small that he assumed it to be a trick of his own senses, which seemed to be confirmed when he looked towards the imagined movement and found nothing there.    Dismissing it, he turned to walk back inside, only to find himself stopping halfway there. And this time, he wasn’t imagining anything.

   Before he’d even turned, he knew that it was real. As though the pressure in the air had suddenly changed, he felt the man’s presence.    Slowly turning his head, his long lost brother came into view between the trees. Alive, and by the looks of it, doing alright.    A tear-filled smile spread across Pero’s face, and then the man was gone.

   He waited until after dinner, when the kids were tucked in and sleeping soundly and the two of you were huddled up on the couch together, trying to stay awake after a long day, to tell you about it.

   “I saw him today,” he said softly into your hair, as you rested your head against his chest.

   “Who?” you answered, sounding comfortably sleepy.

   “William.”

   It took you a second to absorb that, and then you sat up so that you could turn your body around and look at him. As if you needed to see his eyes to believe that it could be true.

   “He only gave me a glimpse, but… he’s alive, Bee,” he continued once you could see him, and suddenly your entire being seemed to shine.

   You didn’t say a word, and you didn’t need to. He could see how that part of your soul, that part that he’d been so afraid would get ripped to pieces by losing Will, came back together right then.    You’d been so composed after you’d read that note that he had come to believe that he’d been wrong about how you’d take it. But now, a year and a half later, he could see how you healed as your faith in miracles was restored.

   You didn’t know it yet, but as your children would grow up, a mysterious stranger would watch them from the shadows.    Time and time again, he would shield them from harm in an ever more dangerous world, and even though they’d get frightened on the few occasions that they’d happen to catch a glimpse of him, their father would always tell them to trust him.

   And when they’d ask him why in the world they should do that, he would tell them the three most important lessons that life with you had taught him:

   “Because even a killer can be a good person. Even a mother can be a terrible person. And even a stranger can be a brother.”

THE END

===============

[pomplalamoose]

Can we please have some luke fluff hc’s?🙏 from any era idc i just love your writing💗

Thank you so much, anon!!! <33

I'm so on board for more lighthearted Luke content to warm our hearts, it's what he deserves🤝🏻

Also I veered into kinda new territory for me; while many of these take place in the Star Wars universe as normal, I included some modern day AU ones too

• the Jedi are taught to take extra care of their clothing and appearance because whenever they're out and about they take on a mostly representative role, whether they want to or not

• this also includes learning how to correctly mend and take care of their belongings

• I don't think that this was at the very front of Luke's education though, Obi-Wan and Yoda really had more pressing conditions to work with

• however, as everyone can clearly see, nobody had to specifically tell Luke about this

• (just look at the man)

• not only did he grow up with maybe one (1) relatively good fitting outfit, I'm also sure that because of this he was taught how to fix holes and re do seams as well as sewing his buttons back on himself

• I'm even convinced he's able to make a simple pair of pants and a shirt from scratch should it be really necessary

• something about the picture of you and Luke sitting together on a warm summer evening or during a winter night and you watching him silently working away is just the peak of domesticity

• he enjoys fixing clothes, especially if by doing so he can do a favor to those he loves

• I think in a way it calms him too

• he'd definitely help out his Padawans with it as well

• I firmly believe he owns a small sewing kit, complete with a thimble

• (maybe two: one he's actually using and a second hand made one out of porcelain because he thinks it's really pretty)

• maybe, in addition and if he has the time, he'd try out similar activities like crocheting, knitting, stitching, etc.

• I don't think he'd be very good at it but everything he crafts is made with love and there is no one around who doesn't appreciate his efforts

• imagine him knitting little socks and hats and scarves for all of his students

• for some reason he really struggles with online tutorials though

• they're always going too fast, he can't see what exactly it is they're showing, and often times they're just overcomplicating really simple steps

• he finds this to be very frustrating

• he probably uses a very (very!) old fashioned book to learn instead

• its margins are full of scribbles of its previous owners and Luke adds his own

• he draws smiley faces next to the patterns he likes most

• Luke is a DIY king

• something that really comes in handy as a Jedi master

• at the very beginning, just at the start of his own academy, he definitely did most of the occurring tasks himself, also including preparing the meals for everyone

• he's a decent cook but I think he'd get really into baking

• baking bread is one of his favorite free time activities

• my sister insists upon the fact that he'd make the absolute best focaccia

• (or its Star Wars equivalent at least)

• he really likes trying out new recipes, especially those he never heard about before

• with varying degrees of success, as some of them are not meant to be made by humans

• but worry not, nothing is getting wasted

• Luke's collection of little fish friends is always happy to eat the remaining crumbs

• (for those that don't know what I'm talking about, check out my other random Luke headcanons if you'd like)

• he has special outfits for his training sessions, including many different shoes

• depending on what or where it is he's practicing, he chooses them carefully

• inside he's wearing soft slippers and soft slippers only, boots are a no go

• it's very much established that Luke is wonderfully emphathetic and always ready to stand by your side, may it be during your period or when you're struggling mentally

• he's still wonderfully emphathetic and caring when you're sick but like, only from very far away

• he'll refuse to come near you if you so much as mention you're not feeling well

• if you have to sneeze or cough even a little bit he's immediately asking whether you've fallen ill or are about to

• just say you feel like you're getting a cold and he's on retreat immediately

• he can't get sick as well!

• he's working with children!!!

• at least one of them is always sick anyways, he can't be contagious under any circumstances!

• he'd feel so bad if he were to be responsible for even more of them suffering

• he feels horrible for not being there for you too though

• so he still does his best

• he prepares warm meals and tea every day and let's R2 deliver them

• he always checks in on you when you're asleep

• he changes your bed sheets while you take a shower or a bath

• he'd totally make a doctor's appointment for you if you're too scared to make the phone call yourself

• he makes sure you're taking your medications

• he pats your back and strokes your hair using the Force

• Luke would absolutely hate quarantine

• at first he'd still be pretty optimistic, thinking it won't be that bad, maybe even fun?

• he'll just meditate a lot, right?

• after all he has mastered his temper now, his patience renowned among his friends and students

• this mindset works at the beginning and for a while he's happy to sleep in for as long as he wants to

• however he forgets about the concept of time quickly enough and soon has no idea what day it is

• when was the last time he had breakfast?

• since he's a very outdoorsy person, always on the move, always doing something, it wouldn't take long until he's getting kinda antsy too

• and while he does enjoy the calm and quiet, he's mostly used to being the center of bustling activities

• soon he takes desperate measures to pass the time, even trying out things he before swore to not be interested in in the slightest

• I see him taking lots and lots of Buzzfeed quizzes

• he texts you about every single result

• one of his first ones was about what kind of animal he'd be and he absolutely hated the outcome

• he eventually ended up making his own quiz because of it

• he likes watching you play video games more than playing them himself

• it's very relaxing to him, especially after a long day at work

• plus he gets to hold you extra close under the pretense of being very interested to see what's going on on screen

• he dozes off pretty quickly though

• while he's happy to let you play whatever you want, I think he has his favorites as well

• Animal Crossing being at the very front

• he loves when you show him your town or island, how you decorated your house and which villagers you're best friends with

• he too would have the newest game, simply because you were missing a few items and he was determined to get them for you

• it would totally escalate during quarantine though, and suddenly he'd have a fully decorated five star island

• (Luke Skywalker plays Animal Crossing with a passion and I'm ready to fight anyone about it)

• for some reason he gets really competitive during Mario Kart and Just Dance

• he unapologetically wins at every single Wii Sports mini game and no matter what you do and how much you practice, he's always better and not in the least bit sorry about it

• he is a Macher™ (please let there be some German fans who know what I'm talking about)

[echo-bleu]

your smile tells me I'm safe

4k, also on AO3, first part of my modern Russingon QPR AU on that tree I'll carve your name.

“I’m in love with you,” Fingon says one morning in September.

Maedhros is perched on the couch’s armrest, bent down, struggling to tie his laces. It’s something he can normally do easily, if slowly, his stump pressed against the loops as he forms them with his hand. But on some days, his shoulder protests the twist it requires, and he can’t quite get his forearm at the right angle. That’s why he has several pairs of boots that zip up instead, but today is the first staff meeting of the autumn semester, and he wants to wear his nice shoes.

He looks up at Fingon as the words sink in. His unbound hair makes a curtain in front of his eyes, and he can only see parts of him, the hand on his shoulder bag, the golden beads in his perfectly braided hair, his hesitant, expectant smile.

His face falls the longer Maedhros takes to answer. They’re running late for the meeting, and there’s a lead weight in Maedhros’s gut that pulls painfully as words fail to form on his lips. I’m in love with you too, the words are right there, but it’s like someone has sucked all the sound out of him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it,” Fingon says, too fast, too high-pitched, a garble of words Maedhros’s brain can barely decipher. “It’s the worst possible moment, but I’ve been waiting and there’s never a right one and you looked so lovely with your hair hanging like that and—”

He stops to draw a breath, shaky and panicked. Maedhros still feels strangled, but he gives up on his laces and shakes off the shoes to cross the room. He cups Fingon’s chin to make him look up.

“It’s okay, I just.” He stops there, abruptly, with no idea what to say. “Need time,” he finishes after a moment, but the pause hangs between them like a condemnation.

Fingon gives him a brave smile. “Okay,” he says. “Take all the time you need.”

But his posture is tight like he already knows how it’s going to go. He expects Maedhros to turn him down – of course he does. To push him away again, this time for good. He expects Maedhros to ask him to move out, or to pine until they drift apart because of the awkwardness.

Maedhros wants to reassure him, but the only things that come to mind are platitudes – it doesn’t change anything, whatever happens we will stay friends – and they will sound far too much like no, I don’t love you back. And if he knows one thing, it’s that it isn’t true.

So he goes to get his zip boots from his closet and they walk out of the flat in silence. Fingon won’t meet his eyes, and he’s careful not to touch him at any point as they board the metro together.

They make it to the meeting on time, somehow, and they sit together through three powerpoint presentations and an hour of arguing because they always do, and Maedhros doesn’t absorb a single thing that has been said.

I’m in love with you.

The words run on loop inside his head, leaving no room for anything else.

It’s not a surprise, not really. Fingon had a crush on him even back before the accident, according to Káno. They’ve grown very close since reconnecting, and his brothers have teased him about it more than once. Looking back, the signs are there. Maedhros should have seen it coming.

And he does love Fingon back, doesn’t he?

Once home, after another awkward metro ride, he lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling, the question running in his mind.

The reality of it is that he doesn’t know. He loves Fingon as a friend, as his best friend, there’s no doubt about that. He loves hanging out with him, watching movies on the couch together and working side by side on their laptops. He loves how they laugh together about the most ridiculous things, how Fingon beams at him whenever they cross paths at uni even though they’ve already seen each other in the morning.

He wants to be there to comfort him when he has a bad day. He wants Fingon to be there for him when he has a bad day. He wants to celebrate their victories together, and commiserate on the small annoyances, and hug each other through the hard times.

He can barely imagine his life without Fingon in it. He doesn’t want a life without Fingon in it.

Is that being in love?

And if it is, then why couldn’t he say it back?

He tries to say it out loud, alone in his bedroom. I’m in love with you. The words still won’t make it past his lips.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he gets up again and goes to cook dinner.

*

The next day, Maedhros’s shoulder hurts enough that he is forced to use his sling. It means that Fingon doesn’t push, doesn’t ask him anything more. He is as he always is on those days – worried and considerate, and there’s almost no awkwardness. He smoothly anticipates Maedhros’s needs, and if there is a slightly different quality to his posture when they spend the evening on the couch, Maedhros’s head on his lap, well, Maedhros is in too much pain to notice.

It lasts almost three days, leaving Maedhros exhausted for another two. There is no energy to spare for feeling guilty, though Fingon’s words are still in his mind. Fingon grows stiffer with him – not purposefully, but he stares at Maedhros’s back at lot, and he’s quick to look away when Maedhros turns around. Several times, for no discernable reason, he stands up and walks out of the living room, going to work in his bedroom instead.

It’s Sunday by the time Maedhros feels well enough to get out of the flat for any length of time. Feeling cooped up, he goes for a walk, but the sky starts pouring when he’s only made it around the corner. By the time he makes it back home, he’s drenched.

Fingon looks up from where he’s typing on his laptop on the couch. Seeing Maedhros dripping on the welcome mat like a wet dog, he starts laughing.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“That’s right, make fun of my misery,” Maedhros rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling.

He runs his hand through his dripping hair to get it out of his face, and Fingon’s smile slowly wanes, a thoughtful, sad look taking its place. This has happened too many times in the last week. Fingon hasn’t brought it up again, but it’s obvious that he’s thinking about it.

Maedhros steels himself as he dries his hair with a towel in the bathroom and changes. While he’s not Fingon, who tends to run head-first into danger, he’s never been one to avoid the things that scare him. He can do this. Fingon deserves an explanation, at the very least.

“What you said the other day,” he starts as soon as he comes out of the bathroom. “Are you certain?”

Fingon startles, looks at him, closes his laptop and takes a breath. “Of course. But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same.”

He doesn’t sound as if anything about this is okay, but he’s trying. He’s just never been a good liar. His hands are restless, pulling on one of his braids compulsively.

Maedhros sighs and sits down in the armchair across from the couch. “I can’t be with you in that way.”

He’s half-proud of the way his voice didn’t waver, but Fingon looks gutted, and all of his pride immediately fades away.

“May I—” Fingon says, working his jaw and looking anywhere but at him. “May I ask why?”

Maedhros thinks of all the excuses he’s constructed in his head. That relationships between roommates often end in disaster. That they’re basically cousins, and their fathers hate each other, and it would be terrible for the family unity. That Fingon is already taking care of him far too often as it is, that Maedhros and his chronic pain and his missing hand and his depression would make a terrible partner. They are all true.

They’re also just excuses.

“Because,” he says. He pushes his still-damp hair out of his face. “Because you’re lovely, and kind, and brave, and beautiful, and everything I could ever want, and I love you, but… I can’t give you what you want.”

Fingon frowns, now biting on his nails. “I don’t want anything except for you.”

“No, I can’t—I can’t be the person you deserve.”

“I don’t understand.”

Maedhros sighs. There they are. He takes a deep breath, looking at his lap.

“You deserve someone who can love you back, fully, who can be with you in every way, and I don’t—I don’t have it in me. I just don’t… It’s not there. Something in me is broken. I don’t know if it’s the depression, or the trauma, or if I was born this way, but I can’t give you that, and you deserve better than someone who can’t love you properly.” He swallows a sob on the last word. “I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Fingon stares, and doesn’t say anything. Maedhros can’t tell if he’s shocked, or disgusted, or simply waiting for him to pull himself back together. He buries his face in his hands.

He works on the breathing exercises he learned in therapy for a minute, in silence. When he feels calm enough to look up, Fingon is still staring at him, his head slightly tilted, as if trying to solve a mystery.

“Maedhros,” he says slowly. “Are you aromantic?”

Maedhros blinks. His brain halts to a stop.

Is he?

“I—” He gestures helplessly. “I don’t know?”

“It means you don’t experience romantic attraction to people,” Fingon explains helpfully, but Maedhros already knows that.

It never seemed like a very useful description to him. What does it even mean? Is he supposed to get butterflies in his stomach? That’s just an overly dramatic metaphor from teenage romance novels, surely adult relationships are about something else…

Right?

“Ah,” he says, because he can’t think about anything else.

“It would be okay,” Fingon says, still trying to be helpful. “If you are.”

Maedhros thinks about that, and he definitely can’t dig into it deeper without getting overwhelmed. He puts his head in his hands again. Breathes.

“Maedhros.”

He looks up. Fingon has stood up from the couch, and he looks like he wants to come closer, but he doesn’t. He starts pacing instead, in a tiny line down the length of the couch, four steps forward and a turn. Then he sits down again.

“What I’m hearing,” he says, enunciating carefully, “is that you’re perhaps not attracted to me romantically, but you think you could have been if you were wired that way. Which suggests that you are perhaps attracted to me in other ways?”

Maedhros feels himself blush. “Um, not… not—”

“Sexually? No, I already know you’re ace, I’m not expecting you to— Wait,” he stops himself when Maedhros’s eyes bulge out. “Are you not ace?”

“I—”

Fingon grimaces. “I assumed because of how you’re always avoiding the subject, but I should have asked, sorry.”

“No, I… I don’t—”

Maedhros searches for words for an awkward moment before Fingon finally catches on. “Valar, you don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I know what ace is,” Maedhros says. “I just. Don’t know what I am.”

Fingon bursts out laughing. Maedhros watches him uncomprehendingly, still reeling from the new thoughts hammering in his brain.

“I’m sorry, this is totally inappropriate,” Fingon says, wiping his eyes. “I just… Only you. You’re proudly out as queer, you go to pride, you’ve known that you’re nonbinary for – how long?”

Maedhros hesitates. That is, somehow, something they’ve never really talked about. Fingon took it in stride when Maedhros came out to him, but they never really dug into the subject. “When—when you came out, and Ñolo wasn’t… great about it, I started researching, you know, studies and articles about gender, so I could make sure I was informed and maybe send them to him.”

He feels his cheeks heat up. Fingon’s amused grin turns into a beaming smile, lighting up his face. “For me?”

“Of course. It took me a couple years to really start questioning it for myself, and by then…”

“We weren’t speaking any more.”

“Yeah.”

He opens his mouth to apologize, for the hundredth time, but Fingon holds up a hand. “And in all that time, all that research, you never heard about aromanticism?”

“No, I did. I know what it is, I just…”

I just didn’t think it could be me. I just thought I was broken. He doesn’t say it out loud.

He’s not convinced that it isn’t the truth of it. That there are the real aromantics, the ones who are perfectly valid in their (lack of) orientation, and there’s him, the imposter. It took him years and dozens of hours of therapy to accept his gender – he still slides back on the regular, feeling like he’s claiming a label that he has no right to. This – this is too much.

“Whatever I am, whatever – it doesn’t matter,” he says. “It doesn’t change anything for you.”

Fingon worries at his lower lip. “Putting words on it helps. And it means…” he hesitates. “It means it’s not me you can’t love.”

He’s fiddled with the bead at the end of one of his braids so much that it’s coming apart. Maedhros sighs. “It’s not you,” he confirms. “If I could want someone, anyone… It would be you.”

He wonders, suddenly, if Fingon will want to keep his distance now, if trying to get over him (how do you get over love?) will mean staying away. The thought slithers inside his throat and swells until he can barely breathe.

The idea of losing Fingon…

Fingon is following his own train of thoughts, and giving him a sad smile. “I’m glad to know that,” he says softly.

“Is this— Does this mean—” Maedhros can’t even ask. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling hard at the ends.

“I don’t know,” Fingon says. “It depends on what it means for you, I suppose.”

Maedhros frowns. “How?”

“If you can’t feel attraction to me, does it mean that you also don’t want a relationship? It doesn’t have to be romantic, or sexual.”

“What else is there? You’re already my best friend, unless you don’t want to—”

“No!” Fingon almost shouts. Maedhros blinks at him, surprised. “Not that, I’ll always be your friend if that’s what you want,” he says more softly, but no less forcefully.

“Oh,” Maedhros murmurs, only now noticing how fast his heart is beating. That eases some of his dread. “Good. Because I don’t want to lose you.”

“Me neither. Never.”

Fingon looks close to tears. Maedhros wants to hug him. He makes an aborted gesture toward him with his stump, to check if it would be welcome, and Fingon opens his arms.

Gratefully, Maedhros switches from his armchair – which suddenly feels too far away – to the couch beside Fingon. Fingon scoots over so that Maedhros can be on his right, and slide his left arm across his back. He’s careful of Maedhros’s shoulder when he returns the hug, nuzzling Maedhros’s neck.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he murmurs. “No matter what.”

Then he raises his head again. “Some aro people have queer-platonic relationships. I think. I’m not exactly knowledgeable, but we could research. Is that something you’d want?”

Maedhros gives himself a minute to think about it properly, running his fingers up and down Fingon’s arm. He tries to push away the intrusive thoughts – you’re just broken, you’ll never be good enough for him, he’s generous enough to give you the benefit of the doubt – and actually considers the question.

“I don’t know,” he says.

The thing is – the thing is, he doesn’t think he would want any kind of relationship, aside from friendship, with anyone else than Fingon. So what does that make him?

And Fingon… Fingon is normal, and beautiful and smart and kind, and he could have anyone he wanted. He shouldn’t have to settle for someone like Maedhros.

“Fingon,” he says slowly, prompting him to meet his eyes. “I love you, and I want you in my life more than anything, but you still deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you for real.”

“Oh, Mae.” Fingon reaches up to push his hair back behind his ears. “It doesn’t make your love any less real.”

“But I can’t love you the way you love me.”

Fingon shrugs. “I don’t care. I just want you. From where I’m standing, this just means that we get to define our relationship in whatever way we want. We can just throw other people’s expectations out of the window. I don’t need romance. I don’t need sex. We can figure out what we like together.”

“So if we just continue as we have, you’d be satisfied?”

He smiles. “Without being afraid that you’ll bolt if you find out my feelings? Without feeling like I’m lying every time I look at you? Yes. I don’t need more than that. I just want to be with you.”

“With me,” Maedhros repeats, trying to taste what that would feel like.

Fingon turns to lean against his chest, propping his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “So, can we try? We can research QPRs and see how other people do it. And if nothing fits, we can just make it up.”

“I— Okay,” Maedhros whispers. “We can try.”

It feels easier, perhaps, to say it to the top of Fingon’s head, rather than to his face. He’d do anything for Fingon, but he can’t give him what just isn’t there. How long until Fingon gets bored or frustrating and realizes what he’s missing? How long until Maedhros’s lack comes between them?

But Fingon looks so relieved, relaxed in Maedhros’s arms, and they’ve been cuddling like this on the couch for months. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. They can figure this out as they go along, and if one day it’s no longer enough, then – they’ll cross that bridge when they get there.

So for now – for now, maybe.

*

“Shit!”

Maedhros looks up from his sketchbook, alarmed. He twists around to check on Fingon, who is standing in front of the sink, peeling tomatoes.

“What did you do this time?” he asks nonchalantly, when he’s determined that nothing majorly dangerous has happened.

“Nicked my finger. It’s fine, it’s just a small cut.” Fingon turns on the tap and holds his hand under the water.

“No need for stitches?”

“No, just a band-aid, maybe.”

Maedhros nods, even though Fingon has his back turned to him, and he puts down his pencil to go get band-aids and antiseptic from the bathroom cabinet.

“Give me your hand,” he says, hooking his foot around the rolling stool they keep in the kitchen area to pull it closer. He sits down and Fingon holds out his now dripping hand. Thankfully, it is only dripping water and not blood, and the cut is objectively very small. Barely enough to justify a band-aid at all, if not for the fact that Fingon will never leave it alone and keep re-opening it if it’s not protected.

Maedhros struggles a little with the box, which is not made to be opened one-handed, and takes out one of the child superhero-themed band-aids. He got them for Fingon as a joke, because he goes through boxes of bandages seemingly like candy, but Fingon unironically loves them. They already adorn several of his fingers like so many rings, little explosions of colour against his dark skin.

Maedhros slaps the newest one on his index finger and jokingly bends to kiss it better – but he lingers, just a little. Fingon doesn’t take his hand back. It lasts no more than an extra second or two, but it’s enough for Maedhros’s brain to start spinning.

Very little has changed between them since their talk. Some of the awkwardness of the last weeks has faded, and new embarrassment arises in entirely different places, but it’s all very subtle. They’ve hung out just as much as they usually do, and Fingon truly seems content with what they have.

Maedhros is still cataloguing moments. Trying to sort what counts as romantic, and what is just friendship. What the distinction even means to him. Kissing Fingon’s finger – is it a joke, or a moment of tenderness? Can it be both? Is it an issue if it’s both?

“You’re overthinking again,” Fingon says lightly.

“Ugh,” Maedhros mutters, standing up and leaning forward to gently headbutt Fingon on the way.

“Whatever feels right,” Fingon reminds him. “It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

“What if what feels right to me isn’t what feels right to you?”

Fingon shrugs. “If it feels wrong to either of us, we don’t do it. You just have to be honest about it.”

They’ve looked up queer-platonic relationships together, but there seems to be as many ways to be in one as there are people who are. The only requirement is, well, declaring it a relationship.

If Fingon is truly serious about this, about not wanting to seek someone who can actually love him properly, then Maedhros wants to give him at least that. Commitment.

It shouldn’t be difficult. Tyelko often jokes that Maedhros is more loyal than a dog (but then, Tyelko loves dogs more than people). He has, always, given a hundred percent of himself to those important in his life – more than was healthy, sometimes. He loves Fingon, and there is no doubt in his mind that he wants that to continue.

But he’s abandoned Fingon once. Not out of any desire to hurt him – on the contrary – but that’s how Fingon experienced it, and it stands between them even now. He pushed Fingon away, and they didn’t see each other again for almost a decade. They went through the worst times of their lives separately, because of Maedhros’s misguided desire to protect him.

Maedhros takes a breath and catches Fingon’s arm before he can turn away.

“I want a queer-platonic relationship with you,” he says – just a touch too fast, but going by the sudden glow of Fingon’s eyes, it’s still understandable.

Fingon has already made his desires clear. He’s been patiently waiting for Maedhros to express himself, never pushing.

“I don’t know what it will look like exactly,” Maedhros warns, like an apology. “I just know I want to be with you.”

Fingon beams. “I will never push you to do something you don’t want,” he promises. “We can explore. Take it slow. Not do anything different at all, if that’s what you like.”

“I—would like to hug you,” Maedhros says.

And it’s not something new, they’re both tactile with each other, but they’ve never hugged as partners before. Or whatever words they’ll end up using.

Fingon makes a noise of excitement and launches himself at Maedhros, catching himself with his arms around his neck. Maedhros would have toppled over, had he been even a little shorter or lighter. As it is, he hurriedly stabilizes himself with a hand on the counter and returns the hug, squeezing Fingon tightly against his chest.

“I love you,” Fingon says. “Is that okay to say?”

“You already said it before,” Maedhros points out.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Maedhros squeezes him a little tighter, until Fingon squeaks in protest. They both laugh, Fingon’s head still buried in Maedhros’s shoulder.

“I love you too,” Maedhros says quietly, and it doesn’t feel romantic, or wrong, or anything but the most genuine truth. He loves Fingon. Fingon loves him.

If this is to be them, this openness and communication and mutual respect, then – then he thinks he can get used to it.

reblogs and comments make my day!

[fontasticcrablettes]

Been really thinking about making a modern Tales crossover AU these past few days, and i’ve got a basic premise in mind, but I’m relatively new to long form writing, and i keep backing out due to the urge of “i’m not writing these characters correctly/they wouldn’t be like this”. Any tips for a newcomer writer to get over that kind of anxiety?

I'm going to try to give you actionable advice beyond the generic "Write anyway, even if it's not living up to your expectations, because writing poorly is the only way to learn how to write well" (even though all of that is true).

Writing is a skill like any other. The more practice you've had, the faster and more effortless it feels. You know how talented and experienced artists can just free hand some fanart and it looks just the character instantly? But a beginner artist will probably have to draw a sketch with guidelines, block things in, and gradually add more detail to get it to look right.

This is the same with writing! When you're just starting out, the dialogue and character actions can be like that rough sketch. Just giving yourself the idea of where things go and how the scene is moving. You can then give it more passes to get it sounding right.

So let's think about your problem. You're worried about, "They wouldn't be like this." But what thought comes next? Anxiety is telling you to follow that with, "so I should give up." But I'm telling you to follow it with another question: "So how would they be?"

Because I think that if you look at your writing and think "They wouldn't act like this," then what that tells me is that you know how they do act. How can you recognize that they're out of character if you have no idea what in-character looks like? This is like Dumbo's magic feather: the power is already inside you!

If you recognize that, for example, the dialogue you wrote for someone doesn't sound right, try to think of a time in canon when they said something similar - a similar level of tension, similar emotional state, similar level of intimacy with whom they're speaking. Now you have example of how they speak and behave in canon. Use that as reference for when they would be sarcastic, what sort of slang they'd use, how formal they'd be, etc.

Writing an AU setting can be a double-edged sword. One one hand. you might be extra anxious because they aren't in their canonical setting so you have less of a frame of reference. But on the other, I think most readers are also more forgiving of characters behaving differently in AUs. They have a different upbringing, after all; it's going to affect them. Concentrate on the second part if you're getting anxious that your AU versions of the characters aren't close enough to canon.

Ultimately, writing a lengthy fic for the first time is a daunting endeavour. A lot of people would be very intimidated to undertake a project like this! Your anxiety is likely scared in general of committing a long and effort-intensive project and looking for excuses to tell you not to even try. After all, if you don't try, you can't fail. Your anxiety is being dumb. You've got a cool project to share, and you're going to learn a lot about writing while working on it (even if some of that learning is subconscious).

Good luck! Write that fic!

[fitzrove]

Now that I'm talking about history sklslsldldld here's another post...

Historical accuracy in fanworks - why?

A recurring thing w me is that people get annoyed with how obsessed I am with historical accuracy 😭😅 Like people have had to physically restrain me from doing 5 hours of research for a throwaway line in a fanfic, and one friend and I once had an hour long argument about word choice... But unfortunately I am just Like This lmao.

The thing is though, it's not because of any inherent sense of superiority or anything like that lol, I just have preferences. Also, I'm not the kind of person that needs everything to be 100% accurate all the time, I can still have fun JAPFLDPGPF. Basically, for me it comes down to a few things:

1. Suspension of disbelief / immersion

With historical fiction, the "he would not fucking say that" kicks in w dialogue easier than w something set in the modern day. Sometimes it's because of glaringly modern language (a 19th century guy going "sup" or something xD) but other times it's because a character is way too familiar with people of a different class, or acts/dresses/speaks too casually in general.

My hugest pet peeve with this are character names for side characters that the author made up 😭😭😭😭😭 As a non-native English speaker I don't really get the urge to insert random English names into my stories even when the stories are in English, I always look up the historical context and try to use names that a parent would give their child in that context. I'm sorry for naming and shaming but in one tdv fic Alfred's surname was Smith and I had to put down my phone because it broke my immersion so badly xD

2. Enjoyment

Historical accuracy can also be a characterisation thing!!! With crown prince rudolf of austria specifically his whole appeal as a character comes from his neuroses, and his neuroses are the specific way they are because of his specific position and status, and all that those entail in his historical context. It makes a story so much more interesting if these are properly taken into account 👀

3. What's the purpose of fanfic?

To me personally the purpose of writing and posting FANfic, as opposed to writing other stories, is threefold:

Making a point about the original story (is it a fix-it fic? An AU reimagining? A canon-compliant elaboration on something I think could expand upon a character's personality or two characters' relationship? These approaches all comment on the original work and its themes and characters.)

Personal enjoyment/self indulgence (I write what I would like to read)

Hopefully connecting with other fans (persuading them to see my Vision re specific characters/relationships, the setting, or the work as a whole; keeping the fandom alive; inspiring other people to make fanwork; providing entertainment; finding people who are the same kind of insane as you and making friends)

To me, putting historical accuracy into my fic or drawing inspiration from history fulfills all of these goals. With the first one: the original work usually comments on its era in some way as well, so drawing inspiration for the fic from that era complements it and keeps them grounded together. IRL history can also give you fun ideas to put in. W the second one: I love late 19th century history specifically and historical accuracy is my kink KSLFPEPDOFO. W the third one: I like sharing weird/funny/interesting historical facts w people so we can enjoy them together 😌 I also like Informing people of things that happened in history so hopefully they can have as much fun w the knowledge as I do. I try not to do this unsolicitedly and in general try to avoid criticising anyone for historical inaccuracies without being asked to because that's boring, I'm not trying to be cinema sins here

4. Exceptions

Sometimes historical inaccuracy is more fun than historical accuracy, though this is highly personal - you just have to do what you think is best and accept that something you enjoy might be something that breaks another person's suspension of disbelief (and hence makes them not enjoy the story). My personal metrics are roughly:

Sojblfpldlpf fun fact an unnamed person and I had a conversation about rudolf's probably not existing [redacted] register last night and while writing a fic about it would be historically inaccurate, the conclusions we arrived at about it were pretty funmy and interesting. With gay and homosexual implications

One of my favourite pastimes is to comb over crown prince rudolf's life and purposefully misinterpret random things as gay KSOGODPFOTK 😌😌😌 it's a good way to get fic ideas. So um yeah idk where I was going with this post haha