#i did have a twilight phase

[seijorhi]

Hey rhi….. words can’t express how much I loved your new tsumu fic. Throughout the entire fic it kept reminding me of twilight 🫣, which I absolutely love cause I fucking love the twilight series. The whole werewolf vibe was giving Jacob black all you needed was the vampires lol (although there are still quite a few differences from the fic and twilight, but for some strange reason my mind thought of twilight 🥲 alright I’ll stop geeking about twilight now).

I was genuinely surprised when you mentioned that tsumu had no bleach in his hair cuz like you expect him to have his hair blonde but I’m pretty sure the color of his hair is the least of his worries. It does make me a bit sad though finding how he was on his way to the youth team and possibly even going pro but he can’t because he got turned into a werewolf (even though he’s evil and also fucks up the readers life as well, it’s makes me sad that the both of them can never go back to the life they once had). I’m also sad that mako is going to have such a gruesome end, truly devastating. And the fact that tsumu and the reader eats people had me very much like HUUHHH 😟😳😀🤨⁉️ for some reason it had NEVER crossed my mind what a werewolves diet consisted of lol. Overall though, I really enjoyed your fic, like I said before ,anything with either one of the twins (or even the both of them) is already my favorite.

And just like always I have a couple of questions, remember you don’t have to feel obligated to answer any or all of them I’m perfectly content even if you so much as just read this message 🩵

so let’s begin….

How did tsumu get attacked, like where was he?

Was he a target of interest or just a completely random victim of opportunity?

What was going through his mind the moment of said attack and while he was undergoing the painful transformation?

Does tsumu live in the wild,( since you mentioned that he had stolen the clothes from the first unnamed guy, and he didn’t have a credit card), or does he move from place to place?

Is he contact with Samu and his family but just leaves them completely in the dark about everything he does and pretends that everything is fine (but it’s not cause he’s literally a fucking werewolf 🧍🏻‍♀️) or is it no contact whatsoever, like they don’t even see him face to face anymore let alone a FaceTime call or even a text message?

Do you think if samu were to find out about tsumu being a werewolf (whether he finds out himself or tsumu tells him) would be repulsed or understanding and would want to become one as well?

This is sort of a continuation of the last question but would tsumu ever tell his family or samu or would he never say anything in order to protect them?

After his attack did he go back home or did he just drop off the face of the earth?

Were him and samu annoying the reader or was tsumu the only one annoying the reader while his brother was aware of everything?

Maybe I’m blind or dumb but when did tsumu bite the reader because you mentioned that he didn’t get the chance to bite her while they were in high school and that he bit her the first night he stayed at the cabin… so like did he bite her in her sleep 😀?

Did the reader know that tsumu was the wolf that attacked her or did she think it was an actual wolf?

Was there feelings of resentment about becoming a werewolf or did he take it in stride? (You see me personally, I’m more of a vampire girl)

Had he been keeping track of the reader the whole time they were apart or had he finally found her again and decided to take the opportunity?

These are all the questions I can think of at the moment but rest assured I’ll be back if I have more. Also sorry there’s a bit more questions than last time but curiosity got the best of me 😓. Thank you so much if you actually made it all the way down here and if you actually answer any of these questions 🌬️. Your miya fics are always a nice little gift. Hands down, an amazing fic, I will definitely be rereading it. Love you and your fics so much rhi, keep up the good work babe 🫶🏼.

- that one long ‘means to an end’ ask nonnie 🌬️☁️

nonnie i take it back, i am no longer smooching ur forehead. i am coming to kiss you directly on the mouth. ily <33

alright, let's tackle these questions:

How did tsumu get attacked, like where was he? Was he a target of interest or just a completely random victim of opportunity?

out on a run through the woods, on the same track he'd run a thousand times. definitely a victim of opportunity

What was going through his mind the moment of said attack and while he was undergoing the painful transformation?

similar kind of to the reader – the same fucked up sort of hallucinating trip, filled with unimaginable pain. the difference is he had someone there to talk him through it and explain what was happening

Does tsumu live in the wild,( since you mentioned that he had stolen the clothes from the first unnamed guy, and he didn’t have a credit card), or does he move from place to place?

he can and he has before, but he prefers to take his opportunities where they come up. plenty of vacant (or easily vacated) properties and places to crash and clean up. but he does move around a lot too, staying in one place for too long draws too much attention

Is he contact with Samu and his family but just leaves them completely in the dark about everything he does and pretends that everything is fine (but it’s not cause he’s literally a fucking werewolf 🧍🏻‍♀️) or is it no contact whatsoever, like they don’t even see him face to face anymore let alone a FaceTime call or even a text message?

his family, for the most part, is in the dark, there's very little if any contact. going back, seeing them – it's like an open wound. if you asked his parents they'd say it was drugs or something like that that stole their son from them. samu doesn't know the full truth – but he know it's not drugs that changed him. i kind of have this mini headcanon that samu's the one who sees the blood he missed cleaning off him, maybe he saw him stumble in one night, wide eyed and horrified but what he'd done. he knows enough not to ask.

Do you think if samu were to find out about tsumu being a werewolf (whether he finds out himself or tsumu tells him) would be repulsed or understanding and would want to become one as well?

sort of like i said above, he's got an inkling that whatever tsumu is, it ain't human. he'll always love his brother, always be on his side when it counts. as to whether he'd want to become one too... yeah. not because he thinks it's cool or he wants to be strong and powerful and live a longer life – no, he'd go into it knowing he'd lose his humanity. he's glimpsed the ugliness of it, the brutality, but at the end of the day it kills him that tsumu's going through it alone.

This is sort of a continuation of the last question but would tsumu ever tell his family or samu or would he never say anything in order to protect them?

not to protect them out of any like secret werewolf code or anything, but he'd keep his silence and his distance to protect them from the grim truth.

After his attack did he go back home or did he just drop off the face of the earth?

he was back home for a very short period and quickly realised that he couldn't just slip back into his old life. he's fundamentally changed. there is no going back.

Were him and samu annoying the reader or was tsumu the only one annoying the reader while his brother was aware of everything?

just tsumu, though samu was definitely aware of it

Maybe I’m blind or dumb but when did tsumu bite the reader because you mentioned that he didn’t get the chance to bite her while they were in high school and that he bit her the first night he stayed at the cabin… so like did he bite her in her sleep 😀?

answered that one here

Did the reader know that tsumu was the wolf that attacked her or did she think it was an actual wolf?

she knew it was a wolf-ish creature, but definitely not a wolf. she had no idea it was atsumu though

Was there feelings of resentment about becoming a werewolf or did he take it in stride? (You see me personally, I’m more of a vampire girl)

he might've been an asshole, and by the time he meets up with the reader again he's learned to accept and embrace the monster that he is, but there's a big leap between being an arrogant, obsessive bastard and being something inhuman.

his whole life was ripped away from him. he was forced to leave his family – osamu – behind. he actually ends up killing the one who turned him, partially out of anger for interrupting his attack on the reader and stopping him from getting a chance to bite her, but also out of resentment.

Had he been keeping track of the reader the whole time they were apart or had he finally found her again and decided to take the opportunity?

he lost her and spent years trying to track her down again, it was simply bad luck (on her part) that he managed to find her.

[thedrotter]

been watching mlp lately ... watching colorful horses on little adventures soothes the soul ... some rarity cuz she's adorable :33

[air-of-the-waterfall]

Centuries-old super-being watches their favourite human sleep because they’re protective of them and find them fascinating. Fears they aren’t strong enough to be with said human.

The Thunderhead literally achieved Edward Cullen levels of angst.

[doumekiss]

sometimes I ramdomly remember in bewilderment that my bio!dad unironically blames the twilight books for the fact that me and my brother bruno are queer.

and like I didn't even read any of the twilight books.

[daughter-of-inklings]

Sometimes, I indulge in the thought that it's not as obvious as I think what books I've read that have found their way into my writing. And then I read it-

[linkeduniverse]

Our Hero transformed a lot in TotK. At first, he was known as Zelda's knight, but he became much more. People recognize and respect him, and he plays a big role in the kingdom's growth alongside Zelda becoming an active and involved member of his community. This change from being a quiet knight to a lively community leader would really impress Twilight and Warrior. But When it comes to LU Wild, he's yet to achieve these things. His life in the Kingdom still has its challenges that he is trying to tackle. Originally, I wrote Wild to desire growth for his kingdom, much like Terry Town but on a larger scale. Surprisingly, it became quite literal in TotK!

So here's the thing: He's not a character to simply replace; he's dynamic and evolving. His life and journey have significant phases, showing growth and change. If I introduce the ToTK version of Wild in TotK, it disrupts his character development in LU. I've crafted scenes where he learns and grows from various individuals—heroes, princesses, and queens alike. The Princess of the Wild also has her own moments of growth interacting with others. Skipping to their 20s would mean ditching this growth.

I suppose Wild's a lot like Time now. Time, how he's featured in LU, is in the middle of his canon appearances. A little of who he was, and a little of who he will be. Wild too is that middle ground now that he has a trilogy for himself. But what I will say is TotK revealed more of  Wild's unique ability to be resourceful in unconventional ways. I did intentionally limit his usual resources to highlight his uniqueness. Missing an item would break any other Zelda adventure, but for Wild, anything can be a tool. No key? No problem! He’s at his best when circumstances are at their worst because unlike other heroes reliant on specific items, Wild finds a way. But now with TotK, that's his defining trait. The crazy builds in TotK perfectly showcase this…creativity… of his.

TotK definitely gives me a canon trajectory for Wild's (and his princess) goals. All in all I would still like to add some sort of TotK, even if it's small, in LU but as of now I'm still  drawing a blank. I'm not worried about it. An Idea will happen organically if it's meant to be

[deadghosy]

DUUUDE OMG as someone who had a HUGE creepypasta phase I'm obsessed with your hazbin hotel x creepypasta reader fics omggg

Anywaysss could I possibly request a Hazbin Hotel x Sally Williams reader? Completely platonic obviously :)

HAZBIN HOTEL X SALLY WILLIAMS! READER

prompt: a small child with a bloody body accidentally visits the hotel of a cartoon she only saw once

“BENNN! I wanna be in a cartoon..” you says whining to Ben as you grip your teddy bear. Ben rubs his chin thinking then smirks. “What kinda cartoon?” “One with friendship! Like My little pony.” You said with an adorable smile. “What about a better cartoon…” Ben said with a evil smile

And now you are now in the cartoon called Hazbin hotel as you just stood there sobbing at not seeing ponies. Where’s fluttershy? Where rarity? AND WHERE THE HELL IS TWILIGHT SPARKLE.

You must have caused a bad scene as Alastor had took your hand and brought you to the hotel for shelter. You told the “nice” man your friend made you come here making Alastor think you got killed by someone. But what’s a child like you doing here?…..

When the whole crew met you, they found you adorable but they were concerned on why a child, most likely a “human” child like you is in hell.

You have a room next to the next lesbian couple. After they cleaned you and having you wear shoes..which didn’t go well so they let you wear a new pair of white socks as you wore a cute pink dress.

Vaggie felt something about you was off. But she felt like heaven had not let you in. So she didn’t press any farther.

Angel gives you fat nuggets because he trusts you to look after him as he works. He never told you what he does for work but you enjoy keeping fat nuggets some company.

You dressed fat nuggets up as a pig princess. Angel found it cute and funny as he took a photo of it to remember the memory forever.

The most to baby you is definitely the Morningstars and Alastor a little bit. As Alastor felt to protect when he first seen you. He always tells you to smile at most to not let anyone see what’s underneath.

Alastor takes you on strolls at times. Even taking you to cannibal town where you can meet his dearest friend. Rosie, an overlord who takes on the cannibal town.

Rosie absolutely adores you! She called you sweetie pie all the time you visit her with Alastor.

I imagine you gave husk ponytails as he just grumbled drinking. He didn’t feel the need to scold you, you’re just a kid. Kids don’t know no better.

You and husk’s dynamic is “drunk uncle x pretty pink princess kid”

Husk hates to admit it but he likes your presence as you help him clean. Although he tries to tricks you to not clean the glasses so you won’t cut yourself.

Lucifer definitely tries to take care of you how he did for Charlie and it’s so wholesome as he would bring you ducks to your room that across of his.

He is such a overprotective father figure-

Angel and you have such cute fashion shows together as you both dress up like princesses💗

I headcannon that Charlie and Lucifer would spoil you rotten like getting you cute dresses or whatever you want as long as you are happy.

I can see that if it was your birthday, it’s as if Christmas and a birthday was combined as you get so much gifts😭

Niffty definitely teaches you how to clean as she always wanted to teach someone how to clean without ignoring her.

I can imagine you trying to contact Ben somehow as Ben is being interrogated back at the mansion as slenderman is chasing Ben with a pan demanding where you are at.

Sir Pentious lets you In on his machine shenanigans as you just smile with the egg boiz who hold your hands.

You showed your teddy bear to Lucifer who cooed at you as he made you a duck that had bear ears..you were weirded out at first but appreciated it. It was nice to get gifts! 💗

I headcannon you like greeting the residents in the hotel as they greet you back not excepting to se an actual human child in the hotel

I can see Angel dust having Velvette make cutesy outfits for you as he likes to see you as a little sister.

I can imagine you just doing that evil ass child laugh to scare the residents…you little ass menace

[lovings4turn]

જ⁀➴  𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄  . . .  (𝐋. 𝐍.)

— whilst you love the excitement that comes with dating a formula one driver, you cherish the quiet, private moments with lando far more

+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! inspired by 'kiss me' by sixpence none the richer, which is one of my fav songs of all time <3

whenever you told someone that your boyfriend drove formula one cars for a living, their initial response was always to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over how luxurious that must be for you. you must be so well travelled, spoiled with tons of gifts, showered with champagne any time he did well on track.

and you would agree - it was true, after all - but those were never your favourite parts of dating lando norris.

what you loved most about lando was how himself he was, no matter how bright the spotlight that shone on him became. it was lando being so quintessentially, well, lando, that had led you to the dreamlike date you were currently on together.

no longer phased by late night texts requesting your company at any hour of the day, you'd wasted no time in getting yourself dressed up for a mystery date the moment lando had messaged you about it.

and now, sat beneath the stars on the hood of his car, you felt like the luckiest person to walk the earth. how lando had found such a pretty, secluded location, you'd never know. part of the beauty was not knowing.

bar the moon acting as your chaperone, it was just you and lando for as far as you were aware. for one night, you were granted your own part of the earth, a land that could be your own.

lando, cheesy as ever, had began to play some romantic old love song from his car speakers, a gesture that was only briefly delayed by the house song he'd accidentally queued up first.

once you'd controlled your giggles, lando had held out his hand, stooping down into a bow and playing the part of a gentleman.

"can i have this dance?" he asked, grin so wide his eyes began to crinkle up at the corners.

hesitant was a feeling you never experienced around lando. your hand was in his before you had time to think.

neither of you were particularly well versed in the art of dance, but you knew each other like the back of your own hands, and each step and movement was fluid, second nature after years together.

the silver moon cast a glittering glow over your intertwined frames, a spotlight for your personal duet that caught lando's face perfectly in it's light.

"you're staring," lando mused, eyes sparkling in amusement as he realised he'd caught you.

"you're making it hard not to," you admitted, eyes flitting down to the curve of his top lip briefly before you met his eyes once more.

"so i'm a distraction, am i?"

it was a joke, yet his fondness for you outweighed the humour in the tone of his voice.

"well, you said it not me."

lando laughed at this, a sound that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

"i think i can be even more of a distraction," he hummed.

in one swift move, lando's lips were on yours as his hands gripped your waist firmly. the kiss was soft, yet passionate, the movements of his tongue somehow tracing everything he could never say to you into the cavern of your mouth.

being at the track with lando was fun, as was the winter trips to ski lodges and summer holidays in resorts. but without a doubt, your favourite place to be with lando was underneath the haze of the milky twilight, lips locked as his heart bore roots into your own chest.

[fab-bladesmith]

A Celtic Anthropomorphic Hilted Short Sword/Dagger and Scabbard, 1st cent. B.C.

Based mostly on two local examples (one found in 1900 in Mirebeau-sur-Bèze, and the other in the river Saône, at the ford called "Iles Percées" in 1974, and both kept in the @museedenon in Chalon-sur-Saône) as well as others.

The blade is high carbon steel with a hollow ground diamond section, and has been slack-quenched so that only the edges would harden. A sun, crescent moon and two silver lines were inlaid on one face.

The hilt is bronze, cast in 4 parts. The shape of it recall the "proper" anthropomorphic hilts of the earlier phases in a simplified form, but it's not hard to identify the legs, body, arms and head. The scabbard is bronze, and as should be can be taken down relatively easily. The front plate overlaps the back plate on the sides, and the throat piece and chape also keep holding these two together.

I have a boundless admiration for the Celtic smiths of old.

There is both much to say about these swords - questions, mostly, and not much in terms of answers.

Such swords appear all over Europe, and a striking feature in addition to the hilt is these inlays of a moon and a sun - though some swords only show a single central strip of gold. Maybe my current reads on metal finishes has me overthink on the meaning of these inlays - or rather, the fact that they did have a meaning, now lost to us.

But it made sense to me that the blade could have been heat-blued, to emphasise the moon and sun at twilight - the silver lines could then be the Milky Way or the Divide between Night and Day, maybe at the time of the Equinox.

Bluing of blades is also found later on inlaid Mediaeval swords, with a possibility of a continuity of this technique. I'd say more, but space here is limited. I don't know.

Not to mention the strong symbolism of the scabbard (you do know the Latin word for scabbard, right ?) associated with the blade dangling between the hilt's "legs". Ritual blade fitting with fertility/astronomy/renewal of the cycle ?

Damn you, Celts and Gauls, who made such marvels and didn't write down a thing, and now all is lost in the sea of Time and Silence.

All that we can affirm is the undeniable highly symbolic meaning of such artifacts - as the Archaeologist in me would say.

Many thanks to Dr Guillaume Reich - leading expert on La Tène weapons - for the advice, insight and bibliography.

[eccentricallygothic]

Prompt; This is the skin of a killer 🩷

Ghost vs König

. . .

Ghost;

“This is the skin of a killer, Simon!” Your boyfriend, who is much older and more mature than you will ever be, only turns his head briefly to look at you from the rugby game that he's watching. You dramatically stand with your face to the ‘sky’, glitter covered body curled outwards as you hold open the gown that you had been wearing atop it to hide your handiwork while creeping around behind Simon to turn on all the lights for full effect. Then you dramatically snap your head in his direction and open your eyes to come face to face with his judgemental expression that you don't care for because he signed up for both the generational gap and you very happily himself. “I am a killer!” One of his eyebrows only slightly quirk up in an ‘... okay?’ way before he turns his attention back to the TV. 

“Ugh, Simon! You're no fun!” He doesn't understand the reference and he doesn't even want to find out.

König;

“This is the skin of a killer, Tomas!” Your boyfriend may have grown into a mountain of a handsome man who can be scary when he wants to be but with you he can not help but become his insecure little past loser self again because he finds it impossible to believe just how he bagged someone like you. His jaw hits the floor as his eyes hungrily run all over your glittering body from where he's fixing something on the couch. “I am a kill– OOOF, TOMAS!” He did not have much experience before you and as much as he liked you, he had taken his time warming up to you. But now… 

“Oh, yeah!” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you cough due to how his charging into you like a mad bull before crashing you both into the ground has knocked the wind out of you. “It really is!” The man is always painfully desperate and ready for you. You are sure he doesn't understand the reference but before you can say anything to get him to stop ruining your twilight skin, he is crazily licking, kissing, groping and biting you everywhere he can reach, your writhing body trapped under his huge one. 

And by the time he is done with you, his skin is just as much covered in glitter as yours. 

. . .

sorry lmfao i am going through a cod and twilight phase at the same time

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

The Apothecary’s Travel Guide Chapter 1

Quickly, before we begin, I want to set some things straight about this little fic series.

This fic will use Fem!Reader in both pronouns and body descriptions. I usually stick to gender neutral stuff, but this fic just works better with a female main character in mind (or at least I think so).

While I won’t be going into actual nsfw stuff (maybe in the future, I haven’t decided), this fic will still contain sexual themes and scenarios. This fic is meant for older teens and up. I don’t write with a young audience in mind, both for this fic and in general.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Apothecary Diaries (wtf are you doing here, go watch it), the series takes place in a fictional version of Imperial China. You don’t absolutely need to watch it to read this fic, but you will have a better understanding of things if you have (also, it’s just a really good show, very well written with one of the best female protags I’ve ever seen).

Also, this fic starts before Sunset, so the whole “Twilight is Wolfie” and “Hyrule can heal” things are not known yet.

–

It felt a little strange to be back in the busy streets of the pleasure district after spending months in the rear palace. But it was the good kind of strange. The smell of grilled meat skewers that you missed so much, the paper lanterns hanging overhead, people haggling for better prices in the street side shops, playing games on the side of the road, or drinking tea in teahouses. And of course, beautiful women calling men over to offer ‘special services’ in the many brothels.

It’s a sight you’re all too familiar with. Having grown up here, raised by the women of the famous Verdigris House, these things did not phase you. One would think that working in the palace would be quite the change of pace, but if there’s one thing that you’ve learned over the past however many months, it is that the palace and brothels aren’t all that different. A beautiful caged garden full of flowers for the emperor to enjoy looking upon.

In truth, if you had the choice, you would not want to have anything to do with the imperial palace, but given your situation, what could you do? You certainly didn’t ask to be kidnapped and sold off to the palace back then and you didn’t ask to be promoted to lady in waiting to one of the four highest ranking concubines. You were doing just fine as an apothecary back in the pleasure district, thank you very much.

You had originally attempted to stay low, worked as a simple, low ranking servant until your contract expired and then head home. You hid any signs of value that could get you promoted; you hid your ability to read and write, as well as hid your ‘true beauty’ so you wouldn’t become a concubine (even if a servant could only ever become a low ranking concubine). Any extra money you would have earned  from those promotions would just be swiped by your kidnappers, anyway. At least you still got paid for your regular work.

Had things originally gone according to your plan, you would have worked hard and been released within three years. However, now that goal post has been moved quite a bit.

But you shouldn't be thinking about work right now; it was your day off, after all. You were back home (after managing to haggle your way into them letting you leave the palace) and that’s all that matters right now.

I should get some radishes and chicken for soup tonight. You thought as you walked down the street of the makeshift market. You hoped that your father had been eating well. He was never all that good at feeding himself. If he was starving for a few days, the old lady from the Verdigris House would force something down his throat.

Speaking of the Verdigris House, you should probably head there later. Both to say hello to your ‘big sisters,’ but also so you could take a bath there. They’d likely want some medicine, too, now that you thought about it. The last time you delivered medicine there was the day you got kidnapped.

Heh. Even on my day off I’m running errands.

With your little morning shopping excursion done, you stuffed the ingredients into the basket you carried on your back and started heading to that familiar little shack you affectionately called home. Dad should be in the fields tending to the plants right now. Honestly, he was getting too old for that trek, especially with his busted knee, but you couldn’t deny that he loved that little garden he’s cultivated over the years. Not like you were any different when it comes to your passion for medicinal herbs. As your master, he taught you everything you know about medicine; what herbs work in which situations, what to use and what to avoid, how to make medicine, what plants, mushrooms and animals were poisonous and which weren’t, etc. He was a very learned man, having studied both eastern and western medicine. With a few more years of teaching, you might be as good as him, or you hoped so, at least.

Finally you reached the calm little neighbourhood you grew up in. It was on the very outskirts of the city, not even protected by the tall stone brick walls. Looking at the small sizes of the houses, barely larger than your average shack, told people that this was where the poor lived. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Truth be told, your father was an excellent medical expert, even having worked in the palace before from what you’ve heard, but for all his skill and knowledge, he had terrible luck, which is why he ended up living here instead of somewhere more fitting for his stature.

But when you got to your little childhood home, you were met with a worrying sight. A woman you didn’t recognise, worry and uncertainty written on her face, knocking on the front door of your home. That’s strange, did she need medicine? You didn’t recognise her servant uniform, but she seemed to be from one of the inns in the area.

You called out, catching her attention immediately. “Are you looking for the apothecary? He’s currently out, but I can leave him a message.”

“Please help, it’s a medical emergency! Someone’s been poisoned!”

Your face immediately turned serious as you dropped your belongings before running inside the shack to retrieve an emergency med kit. “Lead me to them.”

--

People had gathered around the doorway of the inn, clearly all in a panic, but not sure on what to do.

“I brought the apothecary. Please step out of the way.” The two of you moved past the seemingly small army of staff and patrons.

What you saw seemed to match what the woman had told you before. A man lying on the bed, restless, breathing erratically, hands clenching at the fabric of his clothes right over his heart. Immediately you entered your ‘work mode,’ practically diving next to the man. First, a physical check up.

You pried open the man’s eyes, looking into them; you checked his pulse and stuck a finger into his mouth. Judging from the spittle running down his chin and trace amounts of sick on the bed sheets and his blue scarf, it’s safe to say that he had vomited. Still, you pressed down on his solar plexus to induce more of it. It would help expel whatever caused this reaction, but it would also dehydrate him. There was a hrrk, and spit came pouring out of his mouth, which you wiped away with the bedsheets you had gripped.

Suddenly, a new man with brown hair and eyes came running through the door with what seemed to be a waterskin in his hands.

He was just about to offer the water to the man you were tending to, but you shouted at him: “Don’t let him drink that! Charcoal- we need charcoal!” The startled man dropped the item onto the floor, but recovered just as quickly, running off once again to retrieve the required item.

You repeated this process several times on the victim; making him vomit, wiping the bile away ad nauseum until nothing but stomach acid came out. The man was able to breathe much easier now, no longer hyperventilating. Thankfully, at your request, the charcoal had arrived just in time, which you quickly ground up with your mortar and pestle.

“This’ll be rough on his throat, but it’ll flush the toxins out of his body.” You spoke as you poured the fine powder into his mouth. Some of the men, who you assumed to be the patient’s associates, had gathered around the two of you, clearly worried.

“Wa… Water. Please…” Those were the first words you heard him speak, weak, but nonetheless a sign that he was recovering.

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to endure this a little bit longer.”

Though unhappy, he accepted and resigned himself to his scratchy and dry throat for the time being. Finally you were able to remove yourself from the bedside, letting the other men move the patient while the inn’s servant ladies removed the soiled linens.

First damn thing in the morning and I already have to deal with an emergency. I only just got back. You grumbled in your mind as you looked at your filthy hand. Ugh. I really need a bath. You sighed both from relief and exhaustion.

“You doin’ okay, Captain?” One of the taller men with brown hair asked while holding him up so he could stand.

The patient - now identified as ‘Captain’ - took a breath. “Much better.” He then turned his attention towards you. “Thank you. I was certain that I was a goner.”

“I am simply doing my job. There is no need to thank me.” Utilising some water in a pitcher that one of the servants offered, you wiped your hands with a damp cloth.

You then took out a wooden slip, wrote just a couple characters on it and handed it over to the servant woman who you first encountered. “Deliver this to doctor Luomen and bring him here. He should be by the south wall.”

With that, the servant gave you and everyone else in the room a small bow before leaving.

The man with a blue hat turned his attention to the patient, who had once again been laid down onto the cleaned up bed. “Now I know that stuff took you out; you didn’t even try to flirt with your “guardian angel”.”

“So that’s your impression of me?” The sarcasm in his voice was evident. “Glad to know that it took me almost kicking the bucket to change your opinion.”

--

Within about half an hour, the servant had returned, your father in tow. It took longer than you had hoped, but given your father’s age and condition, it wasn’t all that surprising.

He took a good look at the patient and asked some questions.

“I suppose you did an adequate job here.” He gave you his trademark gentle smile after he was done with his examination.

“‘Adequate’?” You ask, annoyed.

A man who you assumed to be the owner of the inn came into the room. “Thank you, doctor Luomen. You are the best medical expert one could ask for.”

“Don’t thank me. My daughter did all the hard work.”

“Tell me, how much do we owe you? Name your price.”

“There’s really no need-”

You nudge your father’s side with your elbow. “Can you pay rent this month?”

“Ah… Well, in that case, I’ll take the usual fee.”

This was one of his habits; undercharging for his work, or even failing to charge at all, much to your distress. You understood the desire not to take money from people who were already struggling to get by, but this was not the case.

A tall blond man in heavy armour came up to you, holding out a small-ish sack. “Please, allow us to reimburse you as well. We owe you a lot.” Seeing no reason not to, you accepted the item.

With that, your father and the inn’s owner head into another room to discuss payment, leaving you to gather up your tools.

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed a few of the men fidgeting nervously or giving each other glances. They obviously wanted to say something. You didn’t know why they were hesitating. Sure, you might have sharp, mean-looking eyes and you didn’t smile all the time, but there’s no reason for these numerous grown men to act like this around you.

“Can I help you?” You broke the ice. No point in delaying this.

The one who you assumed to be the leader cleared his throat. “Actually, we’d like you to answer some questions we have. We’re travellers from afar, you see, and we don’t know much about this place or nation.”

They came all this way here and they don’t know the first thing about where they are? “You’re in the country of Li, specifically in the capital city of both the nation and the Central Province. I’m not going to judge how you choose to spend your time, but if you wanted to go sightseeing, I wouldn’t exactly recommend coming to the pleasure district first.” You raised an eyebrow. Just who were these people?

You saw that a few of the mens’ faces had turned bright red when they realised where they were. “Ha! Told you that this is where we ended up.”

“Are you implying that you frequent these kinds of places, Captain?” It sure seemed like these two had a penchant for arguing. Even during the time while you were waiting for your father to arrive, you noticed that they kept butting heads.

“Enough, you two.” The oldest shot them a quick glare. “Either way, it’s good we left Wind with Four back at the city outskirts. Both because of the inappropriate nature of this place- no offence…”

You shrugged. “None taken.”

“... But so that they wouldn’t have to see you get in trouble like this.”

“You are the apothecary here, right? If so, then you should be familiar with people who have gotten injuries.” You nodded. “Have you heard anything about encounters with any strong monsters, particularly those with black blood?”

Alright, now you were really confused. Monsters? Black blood? Was this some kind of way of informing you of a new disease spreading among the troops of enemy nations? But if so, why not tell this to an army physician instead of a random apothecary?

“Can’t say that I have.” You spoke up after having given it some thought. “Though I have to admit that I have been working in the inner court for the past few months, so I’m not caught up on the goings on outside the palace walls. But if you are telling the truth, I’m certain I would have heard rumours.” Thinking back, Xiaolan - a girl you had grown a friendship with when you were a simple servant at the palace - sure loved her gossip, and if there was one thing she loved more, it was sharing that gossip with you over tasty snacks and food.

“Thank you anyways.”

While this conversation didn’t seem like it yielded much, it did get your gears turning. It was time to do some espionage- or rather, some investigating. Something you’ve gotten pretty good at lately, if you said so yourself.

“Please wait here while I get you some medicine.” With a quick bow you left the room. In truth you had already prepared the medicine while waiting for your father to arrive, but this was still a convenient excuse.

As quietly as you could you hid yourself behind the sliding door and pressed your ear against it. Sure enough, once the men in the room believed you to be gone, they started talking. Words like “monsters,” “eras,” “shadow” and others got thrown around as if it was common knowledge, yet it only served to confuse - and intrigue - you further. One thing was certain; these were not your regular, run-of-the-mill travellers.

Your earlier talk also gave you an opportunity to scrutinise their appearances. Given their unfamiliar clothes and armour, plus features like light coloured hair and eyes, and their utter lack of knowledge of where they even were, you assumed them to be from a distant land, the west, most likely. But that was before you noticed one curious detail that they all shared; pointed ears.

This one thing had you calling things into question. Sure, the world was a large place, but in all your years of studying medicine and the human body, you’ve never heard of any group of peoples with such a distinctive feature.

But now came the question of what to do. What were you going to do about this suspicious group? Should you report them in case they were here to cause trouble? To be honest, you didn’t want to get involved. No point in sticking your neck out for these strangers and possibly risk getting accused of treason. You’ve done your job, you healed them, and you’re about to give them their medicine and leave. There’s no need to let them occupy your mind anymore. You’d steer clear of them from now on. Yeah, that sounded good.

Finally, you pretended to have returned from your ‘excursion’ and knocked on the door. Given the sudden silence from the room, it was safe to assure that whatever they were talking about was not for others to hear.

Walking up to the Captain still in bed, you handed over a small paper bag. “Please take this for the next few days. It’ll ease your stomach and help with getting rid of any lingering toxins. I would recommend drinking it as tea.”

The one who you had identified as ‘Legend’ from when you were listening in groaned. “Ugh. This whole thing’s been a wash. You guys ready to head back to camp?”

A unanimous ‘yes’ was heard.

--

Ironically enough, you could not get those men out of your head. Was your intuition trying to tell you that there was something wrong with them? Or were you simply curious? They were certainly the most interesting people you’ve met in some time.

They had already left the inn and you had headed in a different direction. You did finally manage to get that warm bath you were looking forward to. And getting to speak to your ‘big sisters’ at the Verdigris House was nice. But still your mind was occupied with something else. Damn it, this was supposed to be your day off, but you haven’t been able to relax completely!

You kicked a small rock in front of you in frustration. Hopefully having dinner with your dad would help alleviate your problem.

Suddenly you felt an all too familiar feeling of being pulled backwards.

Well, this wouldn’t be your first kidnapping.

--

And Wars will have to suffer through that dry, ashy throat for the remainder of this fic- lol jk.

A.N Fun fact: did you know that other than Twilight (who has lived among humans for a long time), technically, Legend is the one who has interacted with humans the most? The people of Koholint Island had short, round ears, as did the people of Holodrum (Oracle of Seasons), Labrynna (Oracle of Ages) and Hytopia (Tri Force Heroes).

[icycoldninja]

Angsty Astarion headcannons

A/N: Ok, so way back in December of '23, I went through a short Astarion phase because I never went through a Twilight phase as a teen, and during the heat of said phase, I wrote this, and since I'm quite proud of how it turned out, I've decided to post it--but this is a one time only thing, it doesn't mean I write for Astarion or any BG3 characters, at least, not anymore.

Tw: Dark, dark, angsty themes that might make ya cry, proceed with caution.

-Severely claustrophobic and nyctophobic as a result of the underground confinement Cazador had sentenced him to.

-Refuses to go into tiny spaces; his bedroll must be spread out wide like a mat, and his tent must be roomy and airy.

-Sleeps/Meditates/whatever with candles lit. (with a nightlight in a modern AU)

-If the power goes out/wind blows his candles out and he can't light new ones for whatever reason, he will panic. Unless he can go outside and relish in the light of the fire or celestial bodies, or unless you have a flashlight, he will curl up into a little ball and cry softly until either the situation blows over or if you come to help him.

-Despite how much he loves you, there is a tiny part of him that is still afraid you will use him for his body and leave him to die, used up and dry.

-Trust is hard to build with him because of all that's happened, but stay persistent and he'll let his walls down.

-Has night terrors almost every night but is too scared to go to you (or anyone) for help for fear of being found and kidnapped by Cazador somehow--the only exception being very terrifying nightmares that have him screaming.

-Touch starved beyond comprehension.

-Desperately needs someone to hold him at night, or just to hold him in general. It doesn't matter how long, if someone would just give him a hug, it'd make his day.

-Sometimes he worries that you'll leave him because of his heavy emotional baggage.

-Gets crazy jealous and will turn into a bat to spy on you if he suspects anything.

-As time progresses, his negativity and jealousy starts to build up and soon expresses itself through violence. If you two don't do something about it, he could end up hurting you.

-He'd never kill you, but rage clouds the mind. Astarion could hurt you pretty badly, especially with that knife of his, and if he ever did so for whatever reason, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

-Puts on a brave, flirty, sassy face in public, but cries a lot in private. Like a lot.

-Does his best to cry as quietly as he can; an old habit from his time with Cazador. He bites a pillow or clamps his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise, careful to breathe through his nose and limit the noises he makes.

-All he really wants is someone to snuggle his fears away and just be there for him, however possible.

[meangirls-imagines]

Welcome to the Poly!Plasticsverse!

collab with: @yungpoetfics (my fav bubs in the world)

Regina George

@queenbgina/@callmereginald (she/her)

North Shore's Queen Bee

Soft for her girlfriends

The mom of the group

Basically a sugar mommy for her girls

Lifehack Geek

TikTok hater

Has rational fear of werewolves

Will fight a bitch

Victoria's Secret girly

Female rapper stan (Doja, Cardi, Megan, etc.)

Gryffindor

Lesbian

Gretchen Wieners

@thegretchenw/@greatgretsby (she/her/it (only if ur special))

The second mom of the group

Softest human

Loves playing with her girlfriends hair

#1 Twilight hater

Has a letterboxd account just to leave bad reviews

The level headed one usually, but will snap when she needs

Cuddly as fuck

Loves Fleur du Mal lingerie

Stubborn as Fuck

Wine drinker/expert

Loves vintage music (Elvis, Elton John, etc.)

Hufflepuff

Bisexual

Karen Shetty

@karebearz/@karensheetty (any pronouns)

Ambidextrous™️

Loves Spongebob

Plant Parent

Knows Britney Spears and Lady Gaga choreo

Kpop girly (Blackpink, BTS, etc.)

Lettering expert

Has Funko Pop collection

Squishmallow lover

Ravenclaw

Pansexual

Cady Heron

@cady_heron/@defnotcaddy (she/her)

The third mom of the group

Whispers when angry

Carries bandaids at all times

Always has snacks

Lactose Intolerant (but LOVES cheese)

Cries at Rom-Coms

LOVES hugs

Cannot handle spicy food

Sleeps with a teddy bear

Happy to be here

Friends with everyone's parents

Token vanilla of the group

Has diary (with a heart shaped lock)

Bisexual

Aaron Samuels

@aaronsammy/@atomicaaron (he/him) or (ho/mie)

1/3 of Terror Trio

Y/N's best friend

North Shore's resident Himbo

Will do anything if someone says "I dare you"

Impulsive buyer

Has one brain cell (shares it with Y/N)

Overuses 💪 emoji

Usually confused

1/2 Golden Retriever duo

Can skateboard

Uses Axe body spray

Co-founder of Stuntmares

Dreams of grabbing a teddy in a claw machine (bucket list item)

Ass man

Owns too many grey sweatpants

Kisses his homies (homiesexual)

Has never watched Harry Potter

Watches lifestyle coaches on YT

Can play the ukulele (really badly)

Loves Eminem and Harry Styles (would fuck Harry Styles)

Writes Larry Stylinson fanfics

Kissed Y/N once (regretted immediately)

Bisexual

Damian Hubbard

@hubbarddamian/@damianishubby (he/him/they)

Learned how to sew from Janis

Does drag and has a YT channel (Anita Dick)

Huge Adore Delano stan

Will fight anyone who hurts Janis

Doesn't like Rupaul as a person, but is a religious Drag Race fan

#1 Poly!Plastics fan

Has an 8 step skincare routine

Cameraman for Stuntmares

Earlybird

Lies about having curfew to go to sleep early

Ravenclaw

(Lowkey wishes he was a Slytherin bc it's the "cuntiest house"

Him and Karen watch The Bachelor

Fav movie is Dirty Dancing (did the lift with Janis)

Learned how to twerk from Y/N

Gay

Janis Imi'Ike

@janiisimiike/@imiikenough (she/they)

Secret Barbie girly(live action and animated movies)

Will go straight for Ryan Gosling

Feral chihuahua of the group

Hozier stan

HATES THE KARDASHIANS

Pain in Regina's ass

Anger Issues™️

Secretly loves Olivia Rodrigo

Mentally Ill friend

Emotional Drunk

Karaoke Queen

Tits girly

Leather Jacket lesbian

Getting piercings > therapy

Has a suit collection

Thrifter

Loves her friends

Dog person (secretly)

Quotes niche memes

Kinky af

Middle Child

Lesbian

Y/N Y/L/N (FC: Chrissy Costanza)

@thisbeyn/@reginaslefttit (she/he/they/it)

2/3 Terror Trio

2/2 Golden Retriever duo

Has matching fried egg tattoo with Aaron.

Co-Founder of Stuntmares

"Hi, I'm Y/N and welcome to Stuntmares" *jumps off roof into pool*

Cuts her own hair

Blooper Reel Queen

North Shore's resident stoner

AUDHD (autistic + ADHD)

Playlists range from Beethoven to ashnikko

"IT'S NOT A PHASE. IT'S A LIFESTYLE."

Demisexual

Plays electric guitar

Has slight speech impediment

Gremlin of the group

D&D Dungeon Master

ALWAYS falls asleep during movie night

Power Nap Addict™️

Insomniac

Monster Energy Drink Enthusiast (collects the cans)

Oddly good at Origami

Tweets everything she thinks

Has been banned from Fortnite and Roblox

Married to Gretchen on The Sims (regina and karen were sad)

Anger issues

✨Spicy✨ Latina (do not fuck with her people)

Matching rings with her gfs

Def had one night stand with Cady

Shane Oman

@shaneomann/@omantastic (he/him) or (dumb/hoe)

Loves Old School Rap (Biggie, Tupac, Snoop Dogg, etc.)

Hates Y/N at first but comes to love her like a sister.

Only person who can outsmoke Y/N.

Has a dropped truck with red LED lights under it.

Blasts music walking down the halls.

Always has the zoomies.

Orange cat friend.

Has elevator music playing in his head 24/7.

Challenged Damian to a dance off. (He lost. But he had girls simping over him)

Posts thirst traps on TikTok. (Regina's mom is his #1 follower)

Has a frying pan tattooed to match Aaron and Y/N.

Always on Stuntmares trying to create new world records.

Or eating a bunch of weird combos.

"Oman! Not again!" *proceeds to eat a marshmallow and spam sandwich*

Ralph Lauren man

Whenever the polycule argues, he's a "fuck this shit, I'm out" person.

Professional party crasher

Dine and Dash expert

Has nipple piercings (Aaron and Y/N dared him to get them)

Curses like a fucking sailor (Half of his lines on Stuntmares are just censor beeps)

Talks way too fast.

Knows Italian and Spanish (Him and Y/N talk shit in Spanish)

His ringtone for Aaron and Y/N is the remix of the Windows error sound

Loves t-shirts with offensive prints (Regina tries to make him dress normally)

Has gc with Aaron and Y/N called "Hoemies"

Would fuck Aaron

TICKLISH

Major gossip (Him and Gretchen meet once a week to talk shit)

[mmelete]

“No, no,” Sky leaned back, a sudden humor in his eyes. “Why don’t you guess how old I am? Fair and square.”

“Oh, can we make bets?” Wind chimed in, spawning rupees onto the table. “I’m guessing…39?”

“39?” Twilight sputtered. “They’re doing you dirty, Sky. I’m sticking with 20. Lovesick and spacey? Definitely younger than 39, Sweet Ordona…”

“Maybe his spacey-ness is because of…old age?” Wild shrugged, which was the most hypocritical words he could’ve said. Honestly, wasn’t he the one diagnosed with amnesia?

“Then why doesn’t Time act more like Sky?” Hyrule asked, sounding just as confused and concerned as earlier. “Shouldn’t they both have…that one memory-illness?”

“You mean, like, dementia?”

“Yeah! Time, do you have dementia?” Hyrule asked. “Because you’re old? I think that Sky is 70,” Hyrule concluded, crossing his arms with confidence. “He’s grown out of the dementia phase.”

“That—that’s not how it works?” Legend gawked, looking moments away from chucking his bread at the traveler. “How did we even trust you to heal Twilight? Or any wounds, ever?”

“Wounds are different from old age!”

_____ ____ ____

The final chapter is up now! It really sets the stage for the rest of the Links and their age-shuffling shenanagins.

Link to the Fic here!

Completed, 3/3 chapters. General Audeiences. Main relationships: Warriors & Four, Sky & Warriors, and the rest of the chain. Additional tags: Fluff, misunderstandings, and a whole lot of silliness. <3

[wannabehockeygf]

Could you write something about Clayton where he and the reader are those friends who are really into each other but never find the moment?!! Like, when one is single, the other is not, they are always pinning for each other, have kissed a couple of times,... But then he moves to Utah, she lives there too (oops) and they are finally both single

Those Eyes - Clayton Keller

“When we’re apart, and I’m missing you,

I close my eyes, and all I see is you,

And the small things you do.”

summary: best friends for life, until you realize you love him and everything seems to keep you apart.

word count: 5.9k

pairing: clayton keller x fem! reader

warnings: alcohol

notes: - ty for the request!! i loved writing this & i hope you love reading this! - i really like flashback stuff, so this is kinda that but more like life phases. - this includes the use of Y/N... don't worry i hate it too. - this was originally called "casual" because i wanted to write a literal representation of "knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out" but it didn't feel right here. - ^ clayton keller is definitely a munch... just saying. if anybody wants to request that I will happily do it. - this is mostly proof read, although there may be a mistake here or there.

forever thinking about his dimples

***

Being best friends with Clayton Keller wasn’t for the faint of heart.

He drove you off the walls. You didn’t know why, but every time you saw him interact with somebody else, anybody else, even his best friends, he was different. More cocky, egotistical, albeit still a good guy. 

It was just when he turned his head, and those eyes that were either blue or green, you could never tell, met yours and he switched up. He didn’t dap you up and ask you ‘what’s good.’ He would, instead, pull you into his arms, tell you he missed you no matter how long it had been since you last saw each other, and run his hands through your hair gently. 

And this had been happening since you were both young, awkward and growing into your bodies. Clayton always had this soft spot and it was driving you absolutely nuts that you couldn’t figure out why. Why did he treat you so well? You were just friends, right? 

You’ll get over it.

*** 

Fifteen years old 

The tears are flowing, and you feel sobs wracking your body as you pedal, pedal as fast as you can on your rusty bike to find some escape. Rain patters down on you, trees going by in blurs, mocking you and this indescribable, screaming pain. 

Finally, you reach your destination, wiping your runny nose with your forearm as you discard your bike carelessly on the driveway and run up to the front door. The ring of the doorbell lingers in your mind, providing a small sense of semblance before the door finally swings open.

When Clayton opens the door, his familiar presence is like a lifeline in the darkness. He’s wearing an old band t-shirt and gym shorts, his hair tousled as if he’d just woken up. He takes one look at you, his eyes widening in concern, and without a word, even though you’re completely soaked, he pulls you into a hug. He smells faintly of some citrus that you couldn’t put your finger on as you shove your face into the crook of his neck, your cries still all-consuming.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just holds you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. His embrace is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly rain. The rough fabric of his shirt, which was dampening by the second from a mixture of your tears and the rain, was comforting against your face, grounding you in the moment. 

You’re unsure how long you stay there, enveloped in Clayton’s arms. Minutes, hours—it all blurs together. But gradually, your sobs lessen, turning into hiccups and shaky breaths. He doesn't rush you or ask any questions, just continues his soothing motions, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

The sky begins to deepen into twilight, casting long shadows across the yard. The gentle chirping of crickets and the distant sound of traffic create a symphony that fills the silence between your breaths. The rain is persistent, carrying the earthy scent of the approaching night.

Finally, you pull back slightly, your cheeks stained with tears. Clayton looks down at you, ignoring that the both of you are still standing under the elements, his eyes searching your face with concern. His thumbs gently brush away the remnants of your tears, his touch feather-light.

“What happened?” he asks softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes, in this light, seem more blue than green, like the sky right before dawn.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "He broke up with me," you manage to say, your voice cracking. The words seem so inadequate, unable to capture the tumult of emotions inside you.

A scowl replaces the expression on Clayton’s face, and he immediately pulls you back into him. “That asshole,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

Clayton’s words are a fierce growl, rumbling through his chest and into yours, but it only makes you clutch him tighter. The warmth of his body is the only thing keeping the cold at bay, the cold that has seeped into your very bones since the breakup that happened no less than forty-five minutes ago. You can't help but think how he always knew just what to say—or not say—to make you feel better. Tonight, it’s the protective anger in his voice that makes you feel seen, cared for.

He releases you slowly, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he steps back to look at you. His gaze softens, and the fire in his eyes dims slightly, replaced with a gentle concern. He runs a hand through his wet, tousled hair, a gesture that’s become so familiar to you over the years, and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, his voice firm but tender, “let’s get you inside.”

***

Eighteen years old 

“With the seventh overall selection in the 2016 NHL Draft, the Arizona Coyotes are proud to select Clayton Keller.”

Immediately, you rise to your feet, squealing at the top of your lungs. You hug the first person you see, which is your little brother to your left, and then turn the other way, hoping to get one of those hugs that you love more than anything else, but you can’t. 

Because you’re not there. You’re at home in St. Louis, watching the draft in Buffalo from your living room with your family. 

Your eyes are locked on the screen, watching the camera pan to Clayton as he stands up to hug his family, immediately shaking off his suit jacket to make his way up to the stage. You watch him shake hands with the officials and put on the Coyotes Jersey and hat, but you can’t help that your heart aches looking at it so normally when all you want to do is be there with him. 

Stand up on your tippy toes and let him pick you up, twirl you around, and hold onto you for as long as he can before it gets awkward. 

It never did. But that was just your bond. 

Best fucking friends. 

This young man with the disheveled, mousy brown hair, was once a little boy. A little boy that you always loved dearly, although you never told him that. A child who always stood up for you when you got picked on, and then a teenager who always wanted you to come to his games; stayed up with you on long nights, talking about everything and nothing. Talk. You needed to talk to him, now.

That’s why you decided to skip out on the basic ‘Congrats’ text. You wanted to stand out because recently, you didn’t feel like best friends. You felt like an outsider in his dream; the side character in the fairytale where the prince finds the fair maiden and locks her up, and they live happily ever after. 

You wanted to be the one getting swept off her feet.

So that night, you’re hunched over your laptop which is perched on top of your puffy white comforter, scrolling for cheap flights to Phoenix. He was going to be there tomorrow, and you weren’t going to miss out on your opportunity – this was your grand romantic gesture, your attempt to finally tell him what you’ve been keeping bottled up your entire childhoods.

Grabbing your phone which had been lying beside you, you tap the first person in your contacts, and let it ring out. And it rings for a while, long enough that you think you’re getting ignored, but when the call finally gets accepted, you’re so excited you don’t even provide any greeting. “Clay, I had an idea, and what if I come to Phoenix tomorrow? We can celebrate after you’re done your team stuff, just the two of us, and I think I have enough money saved for the flight. If I don’t, I can–” You start ranting, only to be cut off by a voice, a voice that’s definitely not Clayton’s.

“He’s busy right now.”

The abrupt, unfamiliar voice stops you mid-sentence, and your excitement crashes into a wall. You pull the phone away from your ear to check the screen, confirming that you did indeed call Clayton.

“Who is this?” you manage to ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease creeping in.

The woman on the other end of the line chuckles lightly, but there’s an edge to it that sends shivers down your spine. "His girlfriend,” She starts, her tone bitter, “Clay’s busy. You do know he just got drafted, right?" she continues, her voice dripping with even more condescension.

Your heart stops. Girlfriend. The words bounce around your mind, refusing to settle into a coherent thought. You’re sure you’ve heard him talk about her before, in passing, but you always assumed she was just another one of his fleeting flings, someone who would come and go like the others. Now, though, it feels like she’s cemented her place in his life, in the space you once thought was yours alone.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, your voice a mere whisper. Your fingers grip the phone so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The air in your room feels suffocating, your once bright idea now crumbling into dust.

“So he’s kind of busy with the draft and all,” She continues, her tone annoyingly polite. “But I can tell him you called. What’s your name?”

“My name?” You feel a sting of anger rise in your chest. “I’m his best friend. I’m… I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end, and you imagine her realization dawning, her eyes widening in recognition. “Oh, right. He talks about you sometimes. Anyway, I’ll let him know.”

The call ends before you can say another word. You sit there, staring at your phone, the screen going dark. The weight of the conversation presses down on you, a heavy, suffocating blanket. The room feels colder, the glow of your laptop screen a harsh reminder of your now-crushed plans.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. The reality of the situation sinks in, the words repeating in your mind: girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend. Clayton has a girlfriend. You’re not sure why it hurts so much, why the idea of him with someone else makes your chest ache. You’ve been friends for so long, shared so many memories, and yet… there’s always been something more, something between you that you’re sure you weren’t imagining.

***

Twenty-one years old

It’s New Year’s Eve in the biggest party city in the desert, you’re barely legal, and you’re surrounded by some of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen.

The crowd around you is electric, buzzing with excitement as the countdown to midnight approaches. You find yourself in a posh club in Scottsdale, the kind of place with velvet ropes, bouncers in crisp suits, and a DJ spinning tracks that make the floor vibrate beneath your feet. The lights are dim, save for the flashes of neon that paint the room in hues of pink and blue. Bodies move in sync with the music, a sea of laughter and joy as people celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of another.

You scan the crowd, your eyes searching for the one face you’ve been dying to see since you landed in Phoenix. Clayton had invited you to celebrate New Year’s with him, insisting that it wouldn’t be the same without you. He’s somewhere in this crowd, and the thought of him sends your heart racing, although you hadn’t seen him yet tonight. 

The anticipation of knowing he’s in the same room as you, finally laying eyes on him, of feeling his arms around you, is almost too much to bear. It’s been months since you last saw each other in person, and the distance has only made your feelings more intense.

You make your way through the throng of partygoers, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of him. The music pulses through your veins, the bass thumping in time with your heartbeat. You pass clusters of friends taking selfies, couples sharing intimate moments, and groups of guys cheering over shots. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and cologne, mingling with the faint aroma of champagne.

Finally, you spot him. He’s near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, talking to a few teammates. His presence is magnetic, drawing your eyes to him like a beacon in the chaos. Clayton looks effortlessly handsome, as always, his mousy brown hair slightly tousled while attempting a slick-back, his eyes catching the light in a way that makes them seem more green than blue tonight. He’s dressed in clean, black slacks paired with a short sleeve white button-up with the top buttons undone, and you can see enough bare skin that it makes your heart race.

As you approach, Clayton's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. His smile widens, and he excuses himself from his friends, making his way over to you. The sight of him walking toward you, his arms opening wide, feels like coming home.

"You made it!" he exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug. His familiar scent surrounds you as he lifts you off your feet, a mix of cologne and something so distinctly Clayton. You cling to him, burying your face in his shoulder, trying to memorize the feeling of his arms around you.

"Of course, I did," you murmur, pulling back slightly as he puts you down to look up at him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

He grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come on, let's get a drink and catch up." He takes your hand, leading you to the bar. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

You settle into a corner booth, his friends and teammates surrounding you, the noise of the club muffled slightly by the high-backed seats. Clayton orders your favorite drink without even asking, a small gesture that warms your heart– something only someone who had been to copious amounts of bad highschool house parties with you would know. 

When the waitress leaves, you turn your head only to be met with the entirety of the group, mostly men but a few women, glaring at you. A tall man with dark features and a moustache speaks up first, “So, Kells, who’s your friend?” He asks, smiling while his gaze flickers between the two of you.

“This is Y/N,” Clayton says, his voice warm and steady as he introduces you. His arm moves from his side, discreetly enough that you don’t even notice until it’s wrapped around your shoulders, his hand gently toying with the strap of your dress. “My best friend.”

Your breath immediately catches in your throat, and you feel as if the room is closing in on you at his touch. You’re here, in this glamorous club, surrounded by the bright lights and pulsating music, Auston fucking Matthews just asked for your name, but all you can focus on is Clayton—his proximity, his touch, his smile, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

The clamor of the party fades into the background as your gaze locks onto Clayton’s face. He’s laughing with his friends, his eyes crinkling at the corners, revealing that light green that never fails to mesmerize you. You catch glimpses of his confidence, his easy charm, the way he commands attention without even trying. And yet, when he turns his focus back to you, it’s as if the rest of the world evaporates. His eyes soften, becoming a private universe where only the two of you exist.

As the night progresses, you find yourself progressively more drunk, along with everyone else, and those gentle touches that Clayton had been giving you escalate into something so much more. Everyone’s sweaty and shitfaced, so what’s there to do besides dance? Dance crazy and fast, dance with whoever you want, dance against anyone you want.

Which was what was happening between you and your best friend.

The pulsating beats of the club seemed to sync with the erratic rhythm of your heart as you danced with Clayton. The music wrapped around you both like a tangible force, drawing you closer together, drowning out everything but the immediate presence of each other. His hands roamed your back, fingers grazing the fabric of your dress, and you felt each touch like a spark igniting a long-simmering ember in your chest.

The world outside the booth seemed to blur, the lights and faces turning into a vague, colorful haze. All you could focus on was the sensation of Clayton's body pressed against yours, the heat of his breath against your ear as he leaned in, whispering something you couldn't quite catch over the music. It didn't matter; his voice was a soothing murmur, a balm to the constant ache that had been building in your heart.

Every movement, every glance, is a tormenting reminder of what’s been left unsaid, a history of suppressed emotions and unspoken confessions. Clayton's touch, as it grazes the bare skin of your upper back, sends shivers down your spine. It’s not just the heat of the club or the effects of the alcohol—though both contribute—it’s the sheer weight of the feelings you've been holding back. 

The beat of the music slowly fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your heart pounding in your ears. His breath is warm against your neck, and you can hear him this time when he speaks, his voice is low, almost lost in the cacophony of the party. “You’re amazing, you know that?” His words are a whisper, but they pierce through the haze of noise and excitement, landing straight in the pit of your stomach.

A small gasp escapes your lips, the sound barely audible over the music. You can’t trust yourself to speak without betraying the raw emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. Instead, you lean into him, feeling his warmth seep into your very core. Clayton's hands wander to your waist easily, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress, the sensation both comforting and electrifying. The way he looks at you—eyes half-lidded with a mixture of affection and something deeper—makes you feel as if you’re the only person in the room. It’s a gaze that holds secrets and promises, a look that makes your chest tighten.

The countdown to midnight begins, and the excitement in the club reaches a crescendo. The anticipation of the new year is palpable, but it’s overshadowed by the realization that this night, this moment, is slipping through your fingers. And as the countdown reaches zero, the club erupts in cheers. The room is filled with the dazzling light of confetti and the sound of fireworks outside, the euphoria of the new year is a sharp contrast to the bittersweet sadness that you feel. Clayton’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, his lips grazing your ear as he murmurs something along the lines of “Happy New Year.”

You know it’s a bad idea. Everything in your fucked-up mind is telling you to stop, but all you can do is pull back. Just enough to see him with a slight look of confusion, and to grab his face and bring his lips to yours, with everything about it feeling so insanely right.

***

Twenty-four years old

“I’m moving to Salt Lake City.” You hear yourself blurting out, still looking straight ahead of you at the big screen of the drive-in movie you were at. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you can only pick out the shallow sound of his breathing before he finally speaks up, “What?” He says, simply.

"I'm moving from St. Louis," you repeat, your voice softer this time, almost drowned out by the hum of the car engines around you. You dare a glance at Clayton, his profile illuminated by the glow of the screen. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed ahead, but you can see the flicker of emotions playing across his features—confusion, hurt, and something else you can't quite place.

"Why?" he finally asks, turning to face you. His eyes, now a deep shade of blue, search yours for answers. "Why now? Why so far away?"

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. "He.. got a job offer," The words feel hollow, rehearsed, even though it’s the truth. You had been dating your boyfriend for two years, and things were getting serious enough that you agreed to move with him halfway across the country.

As the words hang in the air between you, the silence becomes suffocating, pressing down on your chest. Clayton's eyes bore into yours, searching for the truth behind your explanation. The movie screen flickers with images, casting shadows and light across his face, making his expression unreadable.

"Why now?" he asks again, his voice softer but edged with a hint of desperation. "I thought you were happy here."

"I am," you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. "I mean, I was. But this job... it's a big opportunity for him. It could change everything."

"And what about us?" The question is heavy, heavier than you would like. Clayton's gaze never wavers, his eyes reflecting the turmoil inside him. "What about me? I come back here to see my family, am I just not going to be able to see you anymore?"

“This isn’t about you, Clay,” you say, your voice trembling. But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. Everything had always been about him, about the way he made you feel, about the unspoken connection that had tied you to him since you were kids.

Clayton's jaw tightened, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. "Bullshit," he spat out, his voice a low growl. "You think I don't know you better than that? You think I don't see through your bullshit?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You tried to blink them away, but they spilled over, running down your cheeks. "Clay, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. This is my future.”

"But what about our future?" Clayton urges you. The word "our" reverberates in your mind, stirring up memories of shared laughter, late-night conversations, and the countless times he had been your rock in moments of despair. You see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

“There’s no ‘our.’ there’s no ‘us.” You find yourself admitting, and it hurts. It hurts really fucking badly, worse than it should for a person that’s in a so-called happy relationship. It feels as if every little bit of effort you’ve put into you and him has dissolved, leaving only a heady mix of disorientated tears.

Heartbreak. You were heartbroken, and you didn’t know why. You shouldn’t be.

You hear Clayton take a deep breath, one that goes all the way into his chest then out again, before speaking. “Do you really mean that?”

A lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to respond. Instead, you look down at your hands, clenched tightly in your lap. The car’s interior light illuminates the shadowy outlines of your fingers, trembling slightly. The sight makes you feel small, as if the weight of your decision has become too much for you to bear alone.

The film on the screen blurs into an abstract dance of colors and light, and you find yourself caught in the same whirlwind of chaos. The movie's characters smile and laugh, their lives moving forward in a way that feels painfully out of reach. The contrast between their joy and your heartache makes your chest tighten, as if the world is conspiring to remind you of what you're losing.

"I didn’t want it to come to this," you finally manage to whisper, your voice cracking as you look out the windshield at the blurry lights of the drive-in. "I never thought it would hurt like this."

Before you could even process what you just said, Clayton’s leaned over the centre console, and his mouth is on yours. His lips are urgent, desperate, as if he's trying to pour all the words he's never said into this one kiss. All the pain, confusion, and uncertainty vanish, leaving only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, and the overwhelming intensity of this moment. 

Clayton’s hand cradles the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear to let you go. You can feel the desperation in his kiss, the way his breath hitches when you respond, parting your lips to deepen the connection.

Your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It mirrors your own, a frantic rhythm that speaks of all the years you’ve spent dancing around this, all the unspoken words and suppressed emotions finally breaking free since the last time three years ago. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of the familiar and the unknown, and it makes your head spin, your thoughts a chaotic whirl of longing and fear.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, Clayton’s eyes search yours, his gaze intense and searching. His lips are slightly swollen from the kiss, his breath coming in shallow pants. “Why does it have to be like this?” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “Why can’t we just… why can’t we figure this out?”

“Because,” you say, your voice breaking. “Because I have to go. I made a commitment. I’m in a relationship. And you… you have your own life in Arizona, your own dreams. I can’t be the one to hold you back.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your face with those eyes that have always seen straight through you. “You’re not holding me back,” he says softly. “You’ve never held me back. You’re the reason I’ve gotten this far. You’re fucking it for me, on everything I am.”

Tears continue to spill down your cheeks, and you can feel your heart breaking all over again. "But we can't keep doing this," you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can't keep pretending that we're just friends when we're so much more. It's not fair to anyone."

Clayton's eyes search yours, his expression a mixture of pain and determination. "Then let's stop pretending," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Let's be honest about what we are, about what we feel. I can't let you go without a fight."

The words hang in the air, heavy with possibility and fear. You look into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and the hope that mirror your own feelings. It’s a terrifying and exhilarating moment, something that could either heal or break you completely.

Taking a deep breath, you make a decision. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

*** Twenty-six years old 

It’s funny how the world closes in on itself, and everything comes back around.

The Arizona Coyotes were no more, due to numerous reasons, and now your best friend is a Utah… Hockey Club. You hadn’t really kept in touch, but as soon as you heard the news, you called and said you had to meet up since you still lived in Salt Lake City, even after your relationship ended.

The day was today, and even though you didn’t want to cancel, you had to since a massive storm had hit and it was pouring rain.

You stare out the window, watching the rain pour down in sheets, drumming against the glass like a constant reminder of the storm inside your heart. The storm had hit unexpectedly, drenching the city and canceling your long-awaited reunion. You sigh, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. Disappointment because you wanted to see him, relief because you weren't sure if you were ready to face the feelings that had never truly gone away.

You close your eyes, remembering the way he looked at you that night at the drive-in, the desperation in his voice as he begged you to stay. You can still feel the warmth of his lips against yours, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The pain of leaving him, of saying goodbye to the one person who understood you better than anyone else, still lingers in your heart.

You open your eyes, wiping away a tear that has slipped down your cheek. You can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the future. But how can you, when every fiber of your being still yearns for him?

And then there’s a knock on your door.

The knock echoes through your apartment, cutting through the quiet hum of the rain. For a moment, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You weren't expecting anyone—certainly not today, not in this storm. A flicker of hope ignites in your chest, an irrational, wild thought that maybe, just maybe, it's him.

You push the thought aside, scolding yourself for being so foolish. But as you make your way to the door, your breath quickens, the anticipation coiling tight in your chest. You open the door, and there he stands, soaked to the bone, rainwater dripping from his tousled hair onto his pale cheeks. Clayton's eyes meet yours, and the world seems to still.

He's here. He's really here.

"Clayton," you breathe out his full name, your voice barely above a whisper. A thousand thoughts race through your mind, but they all jumble together, leaving you speechless. All you can do is stare, taking in the sight of him, his presence both a balm and a wound to your heart.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s panting heavily, the amount of emotion in his eyes hard to even begin to decipher, because before you can get another word out, ask why he’s here, his hands are on your face, pulling it towards his. 

He’s kissing you, and you hope it’s for real this time.

As Clayton's lips press against yours, everything you've been holding back crashes over you like a tidal wave. The warmth of his touch, the urgency of his kiss—it’s all too real, too overwhelming. Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging at the damp strands, and you can feel his heartbeat through the soaked fabric of his shirt. It's beating as fast as yours, a wild, erratic rhythm that speaks of all the time lost, all the words unspoken.

The rain pounds against the roof, a steady drumbeat that echoes the chaos inside your mind. You can taste the salt of tears mixed with the rain on his lips, and you wonder if they're his or yours. There's a desperation in the way he kisses you, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold on tightly enough. And maybe he is. Maybe you both are.

You pull back, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. The world around you is a blur, the only thing in focus is him—his wet hair clinging to his forehead, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the intense look in his eyes that makes your knees weak. You search his face, trying to find the right words, but they elude you. How do you explain the years of longing, the pain of being apart, the confusion and guilt that comes with loving someone you're not supposed to love?

Clayton's eyes soften, and he brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his touch achingly tender. “I couldn’t stay away,” he confesses, his voice raw and vulnerable, “God, I tried, trust me, but even if it’s just one day, I can’t take the risk of letting you slip away like I have my entire life.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a heavy blanket. How many times have you dreamed of hearing him say those words? How many nights have you lain awake, your heart aching for him, wishing that he would finally acknowledge what you both feel? And now that it's happening, it's almost too much to bear.

“I thought about you every day,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Every time I step onto the ice, every time I score a goal, every time I’m alone in my hotel room, I think about you. About us. And it hurts, because I know we could have had something amazing if only I didn’t waste my time on other people who could never make me feel the way you do. If I had the courage to say something sooner. To tell you I’m in love with you.”

You stand there, drenched and trembling, your heart pounding in your chest as Clayton's words hang heavy in the air. The weight of his confession, the raw honesty in his eyes, feels like a knife twisting in your heart. You come to the conclusion that, yes, you’ve dreamed of this moment for years, imagined how it would feel to finally hear him say that he thinks of you, that he wants you. But now, as the reality of it crashes over you, all you feel is a mix of relief, fear, and an overwhelming sadness for the time you've lost.

The rain continues to fall, a relentless patter against the roof, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the storm raging inside you. You look up at Clayton, his face inches from yours, and you can see the vulnerability etched in every line, the uncertainty in the set of his jaw. It’s a look you’ve seen before, in moments of quiet intimacy, in the fleeting touches and stolen glances that spoke of a connection deeper than words. But this time, it’s different. This time, there are no barriers, no pretense. Just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something terrifying and beautiful.

You want to say something, anything, to ease the tension, to reassure him, to tell him that you’ve felt the same way, that you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. But the words won’t come. Instead, you reach up, your fingers trembling as they trace the outline of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips. The simple act of touching him sends a jolt through you, a reminder of how much you’ve missed him, of how much you’ve tried to deny the truth of your feelings.

Clayton’s breath hitches at your touch, and you see his eyes flutter closed, as if savoring the sensation. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back.

You’ll never know the colour of his eyes, and that’s okay because he’s here. With you.

And in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been lying to yourself. Your entire life, you’ve told yourself that you could move on, that you could be happy without him, but deep down, you’ve always known the truth.

There's no moving on from Clayton Keller.

[super-cosmic-library]

loosely based on this post

tw: mentions of blood

Look, everyone had gone through a vampire phase. One Mrs. Stephanie Meyer had a heavy hand in that. And even if one had somehow managed to skirt the whole Twilight saga, there were a litany of other vampire books/tv shows/movies that came in its wake. Almost everyone in the 2010s wanted a vampire boyfriend. Even Robin, whose taste veered toward the more extraterrestrial side of paranormal fiction, had confided in Steve that she wouldn’t mind having an undead, blood sucking vampire girlfriend.

All in all, Steve didn’t get it. Why did nearly all of the girls in his grade fawn over the idea of getting with someone older than their great grandfathers? It was gross. Not to mention the fact that vampires didn’t have blood, so how would they even be able to get it up in the bedroom? 

The whole mess baffled him to no end, and he was grateful when its popularity died down. He didn’t know if he would be able to take listening to Max and El giggling over Edward What’s-his-face.

His relief, however, was short lived. Just as the kids he baby sat started to enter high school, the Twilight saga had a resurgence of popularity all thanks to TikTok. Only this time, he didn’t just have to hear it from the girls. Max and El had gotten Lucas and Will to watch the movies with them, which led to them reading the girls’ copies of the books. And, look, Lucas he understood. When Steve was in high school, he would have done anything to please Nancy. (Luckily, she had been more interested in the rising popularity of the dystopian genre. He had thoroughly enjoyed listening to the Hunger Games series on audiobook.) But Will? Even if he was just doing it to bond with his sister, Steve thought the boy had more taste than that.

And when Lucas and Will became obsessed with it, so did Mike and Dustin. Again, Steve understood Mike, even though unlike Lucas, he was totally oblivious to his crush on Will. But Dustin? As far as Steve was aware, Suzie wasn’t allowed to read the series, even though the creator was also Mormon.

At least Erica was still at the age where she turned her nose up at any hint of romance.

But, you know, it wouldn’t be such a big deal if the kids obsession with vampires contained itself to the fictional world. He could deal with it better if it did. If then, they might be able to talk about other topics of interest. Hell, Steve would give anything to listen to the boys ramble all day long about their Dungeons and Dorks game. But Steve wasn’t so lucky.

Because while he loved the kids’ strong, creative imaginations, it meant that sometimes their fictional obsessions would spill over into the real world. And that. That was what he was really fed up with.

“I swear, it’s him,” Dustin nearly shouted over the other boys. “Same name. Same exact hair. He’s a vampire.”

Steve restrained a groan as he looked up from the dishes to see Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike at the dining table crowded around what appeared to be a high school yearbook.

“He can’t be!” Thank god, Mike was being the voice of reason. (Something Steve never thought he would be.) “I’ve seen him walk to his van in the sun, and he was totally fine. Also, on spaghetti day in the cafeteria, he ate, like, three slices of garlic bread!”

Steve had thought too soon.

“Then how do you explain this?” Dustin asked, gesturing to the page.

“Maybe it’s someone he’s related to?” Will offered.

“I don’t know,” Lucas said. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

Curiosity got the best of Steve. What could he say? Even if he hated this whole vampire thing, he enjoyed the weird little adventures his kids went on. Steve didn’t have many friends growing up. Hell, aside from Robin, he didn’t have many friends now. At least, friends his own age. It made his heart warm, seeing all of them getting to be a bunch of idiot children together. 

But they didn’t need to know that.

“What are you little shits looking at?” He slung the dish towel he had been using to dry the flatware with over his shoulder, and made his way over to the table.

“Steve, we think our new DM is a vampire!” Dustin announced excitedly.

Steve put his hands on his hips (his signature mom pose, according to the kids), and rolled his eyes. “Vampires aren’t real.” 

He didn’t say it to dull the kid’s enthusiasm. If anything, antagonization was their form of love language. Plus, Dustin always took the discouragement as a challenge to double down on whatever stance he took. Steve had to admire the kid for his confidence in himself. He knew first hand how easily that could be stripped away. 

“Then how do you explain this?” Dustin slid the yearbook over for him to look at, pointing at  the man in question. “He’s been in high school for years.”

Steve glanced down at the page. “Oh, Eddie Munson? He was in some of my classes last year. He was held back twice; though, that may have been because he almost never showed up to class. But that doesn’t mean he’s a vampire.”

“This is an old yearbook, though,” Lucas countered.

“If last year is old, then how ancient do you think I am?” Steve snipped. He pointed to the class picture that captured his likeness. “Look, there’s me. Does that mean I’m a vampire?”

“Steve, this isn’t your yearbook.” Dustin held the cover of the book up for Steve to read. There on the cover, in green and gold, were the words “Class of 1985.”

“What?” He snatched the yearbook from him, and flipped back to the page they had been studying. “No, that’s . . .”

He trailed off. Yes, that picture had captured his likeness; however, it was his father’s name that was written underneath. His father, who he was apparently the spitting image of.

“Maybe it’s his dad,” Steve tried, flipping through the pages. “Or his uncle. Doesn’t he live with his uncle?”

“We already checked the rest of it.” Mike snatched the book away from him. “He’s the only Munson in there.”

“His dad and his uncle could have not been in high school together,” Will countered.

“Thank you for being the only reasonable person here.”

Will blushed at Steve’s praise. 

“I am telling you,” Dustin trudged on. “Eddie Munson is a vampire. And we’re going to prove it.”

~~~

Proving it ended up being more challenging than the boys had thought. As Mike had already proved, Eddie had no aversion to garlic or the sun. Crosses, Lucas pointed out, had no affect on him either, seeing as he wore one on his ring. So there went that theory. Dustin had even followed him into the bathroom one day to see if Eddie had a reflection in the mirror. He ended up having two Eddies stare at him like he was a creep.

Either none of the stereotypes were true, or--and Dustin was loathe to admit it--Steve was right.

There was still one more thing they could try.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Lucas said.

Dustin huffed. “Well, do you have any better plans? Because the only thing we haven’t tried yet is a stake to the heart, which is a dumb thing to begin with because that could kill anyone.”

“What about holy water?”

“And how are you going to get a priest to agree to bless a bottle of water?” Mike asked.

“My pastor might do it,” Lucas said.

“Let’s just try this first,” Dustin said. “And if it doesn’t work, you can call your pastor.”

The plan was simple, really. While they were playing DnD that afternoon, Dustin was going to “accidently” get a paper cut. Eddie’s reaction to the fresh blood would determine whether or not he was a vampire. It was fool proof.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Dustin was a fool. Who could blame him, though? Eddie was an amazing Dungeon Master. He knew just how to craft a story to suck just about anyone in. It wasn’t until they were packing up at the end of the session that Dustin remembered the plan. That probably explained the looks the other boys had been shooting him the entire time.

Dustin was just about to drag the edge of a piece of paper across this hand, when the drama room door banged open.

“Alright, you little shits. Get in the car. I’m already having a bad day, and I don’t need your moms blowing up my phone asking where you are.”

“Steve, why do you have a tampon in your nose?” Will asked.

Dustin glanced up at Steve, only to find that the man indeed had a bloody tampon in his nose.

“I had a nose bleed, and didn’t have any Kleenex in my car. It’s the only thing Robin or I had. And it works, so I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”

Blood.

Dustin nearly gave himself whiplash turning his head to look at Eddie. Eddie, who was staring at Steve with eyes that could only be described as ravenous.

“King Steve,” Eddie drew out as he approached Steve.

“Munson.”

“Now why’s a pretty jock like you carting around a bunch of nerdy freshmen?”

“I baby sit them.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yes, they are a bunch of babies.”

That was met with a round of protests from the kids.

“How hard was your nose bleeding? Aren’t tampons supposed to be super absorbent?”

Lucas was right. There was a ring of blood leaking down the tampon.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

Eddie, however, did not look okay. Dustin had never seen him so focused on one thing as he was with Steve’s nose. And that included DnD.

“Yeah, it just happens sometimes. I’ll be fine. Now come on, or Robin’s going to start honking.”

They were being corralled out of the building before Dustin could come to any concrete conclusions, but judging from the way Eddie had stared at Steve’s nose, he was sure their hunch was correct.

Now they just had to prove it.

~~~

Turned out, the best way to prove their DM was a vampire was to show up at his trailer unannounced. Catch him off guard while he was at his most comfortable. In fact, the hardest part about the whole thing had been trying to convince Steve to drive them over to the trailer park. In the end, he was a push over as always.

Dustin bounded up the steps to the trailer, the other boys close behind. He pounded on the door. “Eddie!”

A crash came from inside, followed by a grumbled “shit.” A few moments later, Eddie swung open the door.

“Couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

“We have some urgent DnD questions. Couldn’t’ve waited for you to respond.” Dustin and the rest of the boys pushed passed him into the trailer. Only Will hesitated, sheepish look on his face.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing!” Eddie called after them.

“Oh my god, have some manners,” Steve slammed his car door closed.

“Steve,” Eddie began. “They roped you into this?”

“They threatened to walk otherwise. Couldn’t let them get hit by a car or kidnapped.”

The four boys searched around the tidy trailer, not even trying to appear like they weren’t.

“What are you knuckleheads doing?” Eddie asked.

Steve, who they had not informed what they were doing, seemed to have caught on to their plan. “Not this again.”

“You know what they’re doing?” 

“Guys, look!” Mike, staring in the fridge, exclaimed. The boys ran over to him.

“Hey, you guys, get out of there!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Yeah, knock it off. Let the man live in piece.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Will gasped when they saw the contents of the fridge. Yes, there was normal people food in the fridge--nothing to write home about. But stacked on the top shelf was the motherload: bags and bags of blood.

Mike grabbed one and held it out for Steve to see. “We fucking told you!”

“Eddie’s a vampire,” Dustin vibrated with excitement. “Eddie, you’re a vampire.”

“Eddie’s not . . . there’s gotta be . . .Eddie?” Steve looked to Eddie as if asking him to deny the kid’s claims.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and heaved out an exasperated sigh. “Looks like you caught me.”

“I fucking told you!” Dustin shouted at Steve.

“Language.” Steve snapped. “Eddie, come on. Be serious. Vampires don’t exist.”

“Telling the truth, Harrington.” Eddie flashed them his fangs. “I am a vampire.” 

“You’re teeth aren’t normally that sharp,” Will said.

“I can control when my fangs come out,” Eddie said with a shrug. Then, to demonstrate, he retraced his fangs, so his teeth looked human again. “It’s been handy in hiding from mortals. In fact, you guys are the first to figure it out. Surprised it took this long for anyone to notice, honestly.”

“So you’ve been able to hide in plan sight for, like, hundreds of years?” Dustin asked.

Eddie slouched down onto the couch, understanding that he was about to be pelted with about a million questions. “More like forty.”

“Forty?” Will asked.

“I was turned in the ‘80s. ‘86, I think. I don’t know, the years start to blur together.”

��So, you’re just as old as our parents?” Mike scoffed. “Lame.”

“But I look much better than them.”

The boys took his nonchalance as permission to start their rain of questions.

“So do you have vampire powers?”

“How can you eat garlic?”

“Does the sun not burn your skin?”

“Do you have to get permission to enter new places?”

And on and on they went, only briefly pausing for Eddie to get a sufficient answer out. Meanwhile, Steve just stood by the door. Dustin could tell he was trying to process the fact that he had almost graduated with a vampire. Dustin could understand. Had he not already been convinced himself, the information would have taken a bit to accept.

When Steve finally came back around, he joined the group surrounding Eddie. 

“Why are you still at Hawkins High?” Steve asked. “You were in class with my parents. Couldn’t have you gotten out and gone someplace people won’t recognize you?”

Eddie paused, actually giving that question some thought. The other boys let him think it through instead of feeding him more questions. They wanted to know the answer too.

“Well, I tried to once, but then Wayne started having health problems, and I didn’t want to leave him alone. When I realized that I had stopped aging, I decided to stay with him even after he recovered. Realized that if I don’t grow old, I’m going to outlive him. I’d rather spend the rest of his life with him, than in hiding and regretting it when he’s gone. As for people recognizing me: you’d be surprised how little attention the freaks of Hawkins get.”

The group sat in silence for a moment, letting his words sink in. Dustin supposed that if he were turned into a vampire, he would stick around to spend as much time with his mom as he could.

“Speaking of, where is your uncle?” Lucas asked.

Eddie smiled to himself. “Technically, he’s my little brother. We started doing the whole uncle/nephew thing when he got too old to believably be my brother. And he should be finishing up his shift at the hospital. Decided to become a nurse after finishing chemo. He has always been the smart one. Besides, it helps with procuring my stash of blood.” 

Mike perked up at that. “So you do drink blood?”

“Yes.”

“But we’ve seen you eat real food.”

“You’re point?”

Mike huffed. “So do you need blood to live, or is it just a craving--like wanting a Coke?”

“I can eat real food, but it doesn’t fully satisfy my hunger. Only drinking blood does that.”

“Have you ever?” Steve gulped. “Have you ever drank blood from a person.”

“You offering?” Eddie smirked.

Steve flushed.

Weird.

As his friends continued to talk, Dustin’s mind wandered. It was no secret that Steve found men attractive. He was the biggest slut in Hawkins, after all. And Dustin had only ever seen him nervous around men who he thought were really hot. 

Oh, Dustin could have fun with this. After all, didn’t everyone want a vampire boyfriend?

okay, well this completely got away from me. will I make this a series? mayhaps.