#i was supposed to just be doing drabbles

[s1mpactafterhours]

ok so i did a variation of this over on the sfw genshin main BUT i also wanted to make a filthy version too bc like my brain's been wandering- but anyway.. hear me out 🗣👏🏻

al-haitham coming home and barging into his housemate's room to tell him something or ask about something (etc etc) and accidentally walking in on kaveh absolutely plowing you, like you're both going at it hard until you suddenly hear the door open. (kaveh had assured you he wasn't supposed to be home until much, much later!) and so you're just desperately trying to cover up or hide or something, anything- but kaveh's noticed the way al-haitham looks at you, even if the man himself has no idea yet, so he just keeps going at it, witness be damned. al-haitham makes some offhand remark about how neither of you have any decency, but if he weren't wearing those damned headphone looking contraptions you'd be able to see just how red his ears were.

this is unfortunately how he begins to come to terms with his attraction to you, and unknowingly begins his learnings of the ways of heartache. kaveh pays this no mind, feeling that he's finally got the upper hand on his smart ass, seemingly unshakeable housemate. he's on a mission to make you scream his name, as many times as possible, as loud as possible. at some point, though neither of you hear it, al-haitham just ends up slamming the door on his way out, leaving to go to the library or literally anywhere else.... but not before guiltily rubbing one out. you two provided the perfect background noises he never knew he needed, but more importantly, it was your moans that were driving him insane. how would you sound screaming out his name all night long instead?

so off he goes to busy himself with work, so much work, so much that he ends up taking on extra work just to distract himself from the honeymoon phase you're both in, and the way kaveh just can't seem to stop showing you off in front of him. he can already tell the latter is doing so on purpose, but he refuses to let the blonde get the better of him. you're aware that something is going on, but attribute it to their weird relationship and how they're just always fighting.. though it has been awfully quiet lately, and you're starting to get suspicious. kaveh is quick to assure you that al-haitham is just very busy with work, and he's even quicker to get handsy with you. cuddles while he works on his projects, hands on across your shoulders or thighs at dinner, all the nights you two fuck your stress out before collapsing together in bed.. you're far too entranced by your seemingly sickly sweet lover to see through the haze, but it's always harder to think straight when you're getting your back blown out (or blowing him out-) ..and so, you don't.

and even as al-haitham has time to get himself back together, he can't help but wonder if maybe things would have turned out differently had he been more aware of his own feelings. if he had asked you out first, would that be how the both of you would be now? or had you always only had eyes for kaveh? the questions that used to keep him up at night become mindless chatter as he tries (and fails) to block you both out on the other side of unfortunately thin walls. but life goes on, and so does your relationship, and before you all know it, you're making plans to move in together, to share your lives together, and suddenly al-haitham finally knows what loneliness feels like.. all alone in a house that used to house shenanigans for three. he's not sure if he'll bother looking for a new roommate now that he's been promoted, but sometimes he can't help but wish he could share the news with you both, and how he misses your antics and smile and.... he belatedly begins to realize he misses kaveh too. in which a new set of questions unlocks thoughts he'd never even considered... had he harbored feelings for you all this time, or was he instead projecting because he was jealous... and falling in love with his own roommate all this time?

[uwurakax]

ー　死神　♡

halloweenie vibes ig, and im probs not even gonna get one fic out for it ( lmaoo whats new ), so just for spoop, enjoy a smol sakusa drabble, bc i felt like being nice to him :')

(( trigger warning for wanting to unalive, but its not bad, prkmise ))

thinking about grim reaper!sakusa who always watches over you;

you both met centuries ago. where? he can't say. how? he doesn't know. why? he forgot those details long ago. he doesn't even remember his life anymore. what he did, his friends or even his family. but he feels a phantom pain when he thinks about them.. family. he thinks maybe he was close to someone once.. its only natural right? at least before he met you.

he does recall one thing however; you died.

he does relive that, and that pain is real. so vividly he remembers praying, crying out to whatever deity or higher power that may be out there to listen. to not take you away from him. how you never had enough time, and that you were taken too soon.

it was the first time he had cried.

he wouldn't, no, couldn't live without you. the haze and cacophony leading up to his final days as a man, as a human, are not a time sakusa likes to reflect back on. barely existing and the shell of the proud man he once was, he just wanted to be with you.

it was peaceful that day the day he decided to take his own life. it was warm, with the sun shining vibrantly and the gentle breeze to offer a soothing kiss on his skin. it was like you were waiting... happy to be reunited.

he never felt the chill of the ocean below, tripping off of the cliff he was determined to jump from and hitting his head. a show of mercy in the hell he had to endure from being parted from you. painless and quick.

sakusa felt weightless when he awoke. was he still alive?

no, he came to find that he was indeed successful. a voice surrounding him that was everywhere and nowhere at all all but confirmed his passing. it also confirmed it had heard his desperate cries and prayers over you. the voice didn't know why, but it was willing to answer sakusa.

it had the power to bring you back, but it would come at a price.

the higher power would grant you life, but sakusa would be cursed to be undead. a leader of lost souls for the unfortunate.. or perhaps fortunate? to guide them into the afterlife.

it didn't matter what he had to do, as long as you got to live. he all but readily accepted, unknowingly cursing you too.

for life, and existence has a balance. if sakusa was cursed with being eternally dead, then you'd be cursed with eternal life.

but one couldn't live forever of course, humans don't live forever. so the universe found a workaround.

you would live and die, again and again and again. forever reincarnating, just to live and having to die; and all sakusa could do was watch.

as he led more and more souls to find everlasting tranquility, he had to watch yours being forced away from him into a new life that would soon become you.

he was confused the first time it happened, watching your reincarnated first life be born and grow. how you became who you were when you were with him. he was content like this, watching you from beyond. as long as you got to live your life.

you married and had kids in that first life, and he couldn't help but wonder if that could've been you and him. how would life have gone for him if you weren't taken away?

he learned early on what exactly he subjected himself and inadvertently, you to.

no matter how many centuries ago it had been, it still never made it easier, and sakusa had soon come to grow cold and disdainful of the world. of everything, and with noway to undo it, he had to withstand it.

be forced to watch the love of his life live without him, and knowing he was the cause of her never being able to reunite with any of her loved ones.

sometimes you'd die young, too young that sakusa couldn't even beat to glance at your soul. other times you'd live a full and long life. he wished every life you had would be like that, and if he had to pull strings to speed up someones passing for hurting you? he was more than happy to oblige. scum didn't need to live, and he was more than happy to send them to the realm now coined as hell.

he didn't know why he kept up with this self torture, tormenting himself to being so close and yet so far from you. at least he never had to forget your face or your voice; the one constant that never changed.

and so he stood, across the road from the coffee shop you liked to frequent, watching as you lived your life; or at least this one. he could practically smell the pumpkin spice. the seasonal drink that became your favourite autumn beverage two lives ago.

you feel someone staring at you as you thank the barista for your drink, the warm takeaway cup heating up your hands. so you look outside the large pane windows, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.

through your entire life you've felt a presence around you, watching you. you couldn't explain it, but it always felt familiar. familiar and safe. like a guardian angel. as ridiculous as it sounded, you always felt like nothing bad could ever happen, but you couldn't help the sad sigh that spilled from your lips. you really wished you could know who was constantly watching over you.

sakusa didn't mean to come as close as he did, at least not while you were awake. he knew his very being emitted a bitter and crisp air. humans could sense death, even if they couldn't see it. a lost soul wandering the busy streets. sakusa lost his empathy long ago, for it died along with you, but he held is tongue and the urge to roll his eyes at the floating mass. it stopped at the corner of the coffee shop, and he made his way over quickly. practically teleporting, going through cars and people, sending shivers through them as he passed. he didn't care. the sooner he could deal and send the soul into the afterlife, the sooner he could be with you.

he hastily guided them, showing them the welcoming light as it faded away. he never saw it, but even he could feel the blinding affable glow when he led them there.

he was ready to go back across until he heard the recognisable sound of tires screeching. please don't let it be you!

a scene he knew all too well was occurring. it didn't matter how many times he saw it, a heartache felt only hundreds of times. it didn't stop him from trying. even if he tried countless times before, knowing the end result would be the same. sakusa would always try, for you, even knowing it was pointless.

so imagine his shock when he can feel you underneath him, a carnage of vehicles behind him and you looking up at him, actually seeing him whispering

"it's you"

[starrystevie]

it’s the routine soft intimacies that come with living, breathing, existing with someone for as long as they have.

it's when they hug and steve knows his arms will always find a home around eddie's waist, his face finding solace in the crook of his neck, his lungs full of eddie as he takes in a grounding breath. it's eddie's arms always slung over steve's shoulders when they embrace, pulling him in like he needs him close and they both know it's because he does, his lips pressed to the crown of steve's head as a reminder that he's there.

it's when they want to hold hands and they know each other's tells. they know that steve will bump shoulders then elbows then backs of hands before lacing their fingers together, thumb rubbing wherever it can reach in a steady rhythm. they know that eddie will trail fingertips over the veins in steve's wrist to feel his fluttering heartbeat and then dance his fingers down to clasp around steve's, pulling his arm over his chest so steve can feel him breathing.

it's when they sit in the living room to watch tv and the arm chair is steve's and the couch is eddie's until it's not because suddenly it's halfway through family feud and steve crawls between eddie's legs to lay against his chest like clockwork. it's when they have cleaning day and the kitchen is steve's because he hates how eddie loads the dishwasher and eddie dusts because he knows steve won't pick things up, just dusts around them. it's when they go to the grocery store and steve pushes the cart, checks things off the list, and eddie looks over produce to make sure they aren't too brown for steve.

it's the little things that can go unsaid because they've said them enough or lived them enough or some mixture of both where there's comfort in simplicity. steve knows when eddie wakes up and makes coffee immediately that it'll be a good day ending in dancing in the kitchen with cool tiles under their bare feet. eddie knows when steve wears that sweater with the blue on the trim that he needs a little extra support, a hand through his hair and a kiss on the cheek, a whispered forever promise in his ear.

it's learning how to love someone the way they want to be loved. it's adapting and giving to take and taking to give and intrinsically being what the other needs. it's steve and eddie, who alone are great but together are better. it's them, knowing that steve will always wrap his arms around eddie's waist and knowing that eddie will always sling his around steve's neck and knowing that when they always take in a deep breath full of the other, it's because they're home.

[good-beanswrites]

If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?

Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references. 

(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)

Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.

Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.

“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.

“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane. 

The girl just shook her head. 

She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”

“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 

“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...” 

With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.” 

Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”

“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”

Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”

“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”

“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“You just pity me because I’m young.”

“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.

“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”

A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.

“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”

“Of course.”

[sysig]

Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

[redriotinggg]

When Sanji is bitten by a spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid Fruit, the Straw Hats learn there is only one way to cure his illness.

A genuine love confession.

There’s only one crewmate capable of the job.

(read on ao3!!)

—

The Straw Hats have stopped at a small summer island to gather supplies, stock up on necessities, and do any repairs to the Sunny.

When the bulk of the hard work has been done, their captain insists on a bonfire, having found a perfect clearing in the forest.

Sanji’s by the grill, cooking up plenty of burgers, hotdogs, kebabs, and other barbecued treats to fill his crew’s voracious appetites.

He happily watches his crew enjoy their afternoon—Brook’s violin emitting a joyful tune, Nami and Robin engaged in an intense game of cards, Franky enthusiastically sketching something onto a large page, Zoro fast asleep on the grass, and Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp running around as they play their own variation of tag.

Perhaps Sanji’s gaze is drawn to one of his crewmates in particular, following the flow of his curly hair, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

Perhaps. Sanji won’t tell.

“Woah! Look at that!”

The rowdy trio’s game of tag comes to a halt at Chopper’s cry. Luffy and Usopp look to where the reindeer is pointing, their eyes lighting up when they spot the thing that caught his attention.

“Cool!” Luffy begins to race over, but he’s stopped by Usopp.

“Wait! Don’t run, you’ll scare it!”

The trio carefully make their way over to a nearby tree, their attention grabbed by a fairly large spider.

Sanji shudders when he sees the creature. He looks away, focusing on the food. He is not interested in the further details of their exploration.

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp fawn over the spider, speculating on its species and origins.

“It’s markings kinda look like hearts,” Usopp observes. “They’re even a pinkish-red colour.”

“Aw, so cute!” Chopper squeals.

“I’m gonna name it Cupid!” Luffy declares. “That guy’s in charge of hearts ‘n stuff, right? This lil' girl could be his pet or something,” he laughs.

A bit later, Sanji calls out to them. “Oi, get your asses over here, the food’s ready! And wash your hands if you’ve been touching bugs!”

Saying their goodbyes to Cupid, the boys rush over to claim their dinner.

The crew happily enjoys their meal, thanking Sanji with wide grins that only get wider when he presents them with dessert.

As the evening turns to night, the crew wind down, packing away their belongings and making their way back to the Sunny.

“Are you sure we can’t stay and camp?” Luffy whines. “It’s like, the perfect night for it! We've got the perfect spot!”

“No,” Nami denies flatly. “We didn’t bring the stuff for it and it’s already getting late. Plus, I want to sleep in my own bed. Now hurry up and get going! Franky! Turn on your flashlights, I can’t see!”

“One set of nipple lights, comin’ up! Ow!”

Usopp and Sanji take up the rear, picking up the last of Sanji’s portable kitchen gear. The chef is happily listening to the sniper’s latest tale when he feels a pinch on his ankle.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Sanji! Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think something just bit me.”

Usopp looks in the grass, trying to find the culprit. When he does, he gasps. “It’s the spider from before! Cupid, why’d you go and bite Sanji? That’s not nice!”

“‘Cause it’s a good for nothing insect,” Sanji grumbles.

“Actually, it’s an arachnid—”

“You better not have poisoned me, you stupid bug,” Sanji yells at the spider, which scurries away.

“It’d be venom, not poison.”

“You are not helping!” Sanji snaps. “What is this, a Robin impression? Stop with the unnecessary bug facts, this shit hurts!”

“Does it really? You should get Chopper to look at it as soon as we get back to the ship. Here, gimme your stuff, I’ll carry if for you.”

“I can carry it myself, asshole. I’m not that weak.”

“Really? ‘Cause if you’re in pain, the Great Usopp would be more than happy to carry you back to the Sunny.” Usopp smirks and flexes his muscular arms, sending Sanji a wink.

Sanji pretends like his heart isn’t trying to escape his chest and throw itself at Usopp’s feet.

Internally, Sanji is a mess. Externally, he rolls his eyes and hefts his baggage further in his arms.

“You do two push-ups and think you’re a strong guy now, huh? C’mon, let’s go before any other bugs try to make a meal outta me.”

When they make it back to the Sunny, all of their things put away, Usopp continues to hover by Sanji, his concern rising with each passing moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Usopp asks. “You’re all red. You shouldn’t be sweating this much.”

“‘M fine,” Sanji mumbles. The way he sways on the spot doesn’t do much to help his case.

Usopp holds him steady, in full crisis mode as he watches the usually stable chef falter. He hoists Sanji in his arms, dashing to the infirmary. “CHOPPER!”

“What happened?” the doctor asks. Usopp puts Sanji on the bed and recounts the tale.

By now, the rest of the crew has come to investigate the cause of the commotion. They all stand in the doorway, shocked to see their crewmate suddenly so ill.

“It’s only been like 20 minutes! Why does he look bad already? Sanji, don’t die!”

Usopp’s dramatic cry unfortunately has some merit. Sanji doesn’t look well. He is the complete opposite of the perfect picture of health he was less than an hour ago. In just a few minutes, Sanji seems to have lost all of his energy. He’s flushed and sweating, breathing heavily and brows furrowed as he fights some type of pain. Even his usually shiny hair is limp and brittle-looking.

Usopp’s heart positively breaks at the sight.

“I can’t make him a proper anti-venom without knowing exactly what type of spider that was,” Chopper states. He clicks his tongue as he looks at the inflamed, red bite mark on Sanji’s ankle.

“Brook, you help me get Sanji out of this suit. Everyone else, get out so I can treat him. Now!”

The rest of the crew gather on the deck, concern on all of their faces.

“Usopp,” Robin says, pulling the sniper from his worsening spiral of anxiety. “You said Sanji was bit by the same spider that you saw in the forest, right? Draw me a picture. We can use it to get information from the locals.”

Usopp nods. He runs off to the galley and grabs a sketchpad nestled between Sanji’s collection of recipes and cookbooks. Before long, he’s got multiple drawings of the spider, complete with colours and accurate depictions of its heart-shaped markings.

Franky and Nami go to the hospital to ask about an anti-venom while Luffy, Zoro, and Robin go ask around town.

On the Sunny, Usopp paces back and forth, biting his nails and their beds away to nothing as worry engulfs him. He peeks into the infirmary, heart breaking a little more every time he catches a glimpse of Sanji’s pained face.

“Sanji will be alright,” Brook assures him when he exits the room. “He’s stable for now. Our cook is strong. He’s got the best doctor caring for him and crewmates desperately seeking out information. He’ll pull through.”

Usopp tries his very best to believe him.

The rest of the crew returns to the Sunny in less than an hour. Everyone, except Sanji, who’s resting in the infirmary, gathers at the kitchen table.

“Turns out that our little spider has eaten a Devil Fruit,” Robin tells them. “Everyone in the area is familiar with the spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid fruit.”

“Wait, the spider is actually related to Cupid? That’s hilarious! I’m like a fortune teller! Hahahaha! Ow!” Luffy rubs his sore head, pouting at Nami.

“A bite from the Cupid Spider can do multiple things, depending on who is bitten," Robin continues. "However, it only causes illness in someone who has a requited love but has not actually expressed their love. To save Sanji, whoever is in love with him must tell him the breadth of their true feelings, lest he remain bedridden forever. Or worse.”

The crew sits in silence for a moment, reflecting on the information.

“Alright, who’s in love with Sanji?” Luffy demands.

All eyes go to Usopp.

He is so red in the face Chopper is concerned he'll pass out. His eyes are so wide Zoro wonders if they'll pop out of his head.

"What are you waiting for?" Nami cries. "Get in there and confess your love so Sanji gets better!"

"I-I-I-I-I-I'm not—"

"Oh, please, this is not the time for your anxious, denial bullshit! Go fix Sanji!"

"Can't we just kill the spider instead?" he suggests meekly.

Luffy and Chopper gasp in betrayal.

"That would be a bad idea," Robin warns. "That spider is very well-respected on this island. Causing it harm would no doubt incur the wrath of all the locals. There is nothing you can do but speak from the heart."

"You got this, Usopp-bro! Just tell Sanji how you feel! It'll turn out super!"

On stiff legs and with wobbly knees, Usopp leaves the galley and makes his way back to the infirmary, deaf to the sounds of his crew's encouragements.

Despite his desperate pleas to the universe, Sanji is awake when Usopp steps inside. He looks even worse than before. His skin is pale, covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes are lidded and he's got bags under them like he hasn't slept in days. But even still, a smile lights up his face when he sees the sniper.

"Usopp," he says, voice quiet and raspier than usual. His smile is no less bright.

"Sanji," Usopp returns, taking a seat next to the bed. "I've got news. So, turns out that the spider that bit you has a Devil Fruit power."

Sanji scoffs. "Of course it does. Just my fucking luck. So, what? It ate the Sick-Sick fruit and now I'll feel like shit forever?"

Usopp chuckles drily. "No, nothing like that. We can actually help you pretty easily. Or, I can, anyway. I just... I have to... to..."

The sniper closes his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety washes over him. He can't do this! It's too scary! But he has to.

How many times has he been in this position? Forced to watch someone he loves suffer from an illness, unable to do anything but try and distract them from their pain.

This time is different. Usopp can stop this. He can stop Sanji's suffering. All he has to do is be honest.

Well, best to rip off the band-aid.

Taking a deep breath, Usopp grabs Sanji's clammy hand in both of his. "I love you!"

"I-I've loved you for a long time, Sanji," Usopp admits, and the words start flowing, unable to stop. "I don't know when exactly it started, but I know that I do because I think you're so amazing! You're so cool, and strong, and talented. I love that you act all grumpy but you're actually extremely kind and considerate. I love spending time with you! I love it when you tell me stories about Zeff and the Baratie. I love that you always ask me questions when I'm telling you about something because you make me feel heard. I love that you always wrap your arms around me when we party. I love it when you smile at me and dance with me.

"I love how you look in the early morning and when the sun is setting. Well, I love how you look all the time because you're so gorgeous it isn't fair! All handsome and pretty at the same time. You dress nice, and you smell nice, and you make me food and protect me—! Sanji, I love you!

"I'm sorry it took a stupid spider to force me to say it but I lov-"

Usopp's speech is cut off as desperate lips meet his own. He melts into Sanji's embrace, returning the kiss with all he's got. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might pop right out of his chest, but nothing could possibly take him away from this moment.

When they pull apart, foreheads resting against one another, Usopp is taken aback by Sanji's appearance. He looks as healthy as ever, save for his very intense blush. But his eyes are shining and his smile is hopeful and adoring.

"Do you mean it, Usopp? Do you really feel that way about me?"

"I do. A-And you? D-do you feel...?"

"The same," Sanji promises. "Everything that you said, I feel the same way. Usopp, I love you! I—did you really just cure me with a love confession?"

Usopp blinks, and then he bursts out into laughter. Sanji joins him, the two holding one another as they laugh at the absurdity of the situation, their hearts full to bursting.

"Anything is possible on the Grand Line," Usopp reminds him. "Especially for the number one lover on the seas, the great Captain Usopp!"

"Number one lover, huh? I don't know if I believe that." Sanji pulls Usopp in close, whispering into his ear. "I think you'll have to show me."

"T-that can be arranged."

Usopp leans in and Sanji goes to meet him, lips pressing together again, and again, and again.

[extra-somethin-somethin]

nooooo don't think about kuwabara picking up smoking when yusuke leaves for makai as something to remember him by you're so sexy hahah

[cerise-on-top]

Could I ask for some fluff of a Hank x Reader x 2BDamned? If that's okay, please!

Hello! Of course you can! Here you go!

Poly 2BHank x Reader Fluff

I would say that the both of them are rather busy people, so you won’t be spending too much time together. It’s not like they can make too much time for each other either, though. However, they’ll try. It’s fairly risky for everyone involved, especially for you. If you’re not part of S.Q. then you’ll likely become the target of some attack if you’re seen with Doc. If you’re seen with Hank, if people can tell you’re affiliated with him, then they’ll attack you as well. So really, you’ll be at a disadvantage either way. However, it’s not like either of them feel like going out too much with you. Yes, Hank will want to get some hot dogs with you at some point since he does like those, but after a mission he’s usually torn as a rag and just wants to sleep. Doc is well aware of the dangers he poses towards your wellbeing, so he actively chooses to not go out with you too much either. However, that doesn’t mean that the three of you can’t be lovey dovey at home. It’s very rare to see Hank and Doc cuddle properly with each other, but it happens. Neither of them are touchy people, but sometimes you just desire the touch of a loved one, so you might catch Hank sitting on the floor next to Doc from time to time, his head in his lap. Hank could fall asleep like this too, actually, but he wants to protect you and Doc, so he usually doesn’t. Doc sometimes has a hand on Hank’s shoulder and gently rubs it to show he’s there for him, but he needs his other hand to go through files. If you join Hank on his endeavours, cuddling up to Doc yourself, then the grunt will sigh in feign annoyance and get away from his work for some time to give the two of you some attention. You can get him to settle down for the night like this as well, but he will only begrudgingly do so. 2B may not be the cuddliest person out there, and neither is Hank, but he does enjoy some physical touch from time to time. You will likely switch it up when it comes to cuddling. While you may be the little spoon now, chances are you’ll be the big spoon next time. 2B and Hank are versatile like that. While Hank may prefer holding someone as he falls asleep, if he’s not headed to bed then he can go either way.

Although it’s rare for Hank to show his softer side, he will do so for you and Doc only. Sometimes he’ll come back from a mission, bloody and almost entirely disassembled, holding a few flowers he found. Maybe even a nice scarf or a cool weapon. Despite being a very confident grunt, he knows he can easily protect you, he does believe that you having a weapon yourself would help you with defending yourself. Sometimes he’ll get you a nice katana, one like he has. Other times you can expect a rocket launcher or chainsaw from him as well. His metaphorical tail starts wagging whenever either you or Doc accept his gifts and thank him. He did a good job on this one, you will be safe and sound from here on out. Give him a nice pat, either on his arm or head, and he’ll happily grunt away. Doc pats Hank from time to time and Hank absolutely loves it. However, only you and Doc are allowed to do that, anyone else will be dealt with immediately. Hank definitely doesn’t mind being treated like a dog from time to time. If he’s in a good mood you can call him a good boy and put his face in your hands, he eats that right up. Be enthusiastic about it as well and he’ll lightly headbutt you. Don’t get mad at him for doing so, he doesn’t know what to do with these positive emotions, so he goes straight for gentle violence again.

Going on dates with the two of them mostly consists of something simple. Doc usually suggests Burger Gil’s since no one cares that Hank is there. People are there for the food, not to get mauled by Hank, so they usually leave you alone. Sometimes the three of you go to take a look at the red sun on a cliff as well, though, and reminisce about the better times. Hank still remembers the greenery that used to be in Nevada. He doesn’t remember it well since he doesn’t miss it in the slightest, but he’s lived a good chunk of his life surrounded by plants. Doc barely remembers them, but he still thinks back on them fondly. While neither of the two of them may be sentimental people, they do like discussing the past. There’s always something new to be learned about each other. There’s this unspoken trust between the three of you, so you know each other better than anyone else. For example, you know that Hank likes being picked up, even if he’s far too tall and heavy for that these days. Sometimes you pretend to try and pick him up just to make him feel good. One fact you’ve learned about Doc is that he sometimes, when you and Hank are asleep, likes to hold one hand of each of you. Sometimes he can’t sleep well, or at all, so he opts to spend that time resting from time to time. He won’t particularly go all out in holding you since he doesn’t wanna risk waking you, you’re both extremely tired, after all, but he does like holding your hands, sometimes playing with your fingers as well. He denies this, but you both know it happens. Sometimes Hank makes fun of Doc for it in his usual demeanour, but he secretly loves it. Hank’s favourite activity aside from killing and maiming is helping you and Doc out with whatever you need, even if it’s just holding the wrench. Doc loves showing you his creations. While he knows you likely won’t understand a word he’s saying, he explains them to you anyway. Besides, if he’s made a mistake thinking it over, then he’s more likely to find it while talking. Besides, he gets to spend time with you, what else could he possibly want?

[quirkle2]

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.

[goosewhumps]

idk maybe it’s just me but i’m a bit annoyed that so many prompts on whumpblr need to have a whumper in them. don’t get me wrong, i get the appeal and i do like whump with whumpers in it sometimes but there’s so much you can do without one and it feels like most people just ignore it

[iaxsl]

restarted the zolu fic after i started changing too many things. now it's zoro's pov and im back at 500 words with a better outline of what i want to write. i'll probably repurpose the old one into a luffy pov version since there were some things i really liked in it that i want to include, though it may end up being shorter than the zoro pov one.

[sisterdivinium]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Gen Characters: Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun), Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun), Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Ava Silva, Jillian Salvius, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun), Father Vincent (Warrior Nun), Cardinal Duretti (Warrior Nun), Adriel (Warrior Nun), Sister Camila (Warrior Nun) Additional Tags: Angst, It's all of their relationships to one another and to the halo, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A short AU for if Mary hadn't arrived on time and Lilith managed to get the halo in 1x05.

[tobias-hankel]

I'm taking Hotchreid drabble requests in honor of the Hotchreid Zine release.

For more information about our Hotchreid Zine, make sure to check out Tumblr - all proceeds go to SharedHope, a charity to combat sex trafficking.

[hunter-sylvester]

Contemplating posting my character thoughts stuff over on Ao3 but it's hard to shake the feeling that I'm not supposed to.

Esp. since it's all Metal Lords which has so few works that suddenly flooding that tag with Notfic stuff feels like it might be annoying for people??

idkidkidk

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 7: Free Day -- Legacy

This one took me forever to settle on something I liked -- I was toying around with some ideas about Lukas's epilogue text and the idea of legacy, as well as a bit of meta impact. A few scrapped drawings and 1k words later, I've got this 😂

As always, thank you so much for running this week!! 💜💚 I always have so much fun with the pieces, (it's been the only event week that I can regularly commit to because I always have a blast haha!) and seeing others' amazing work! It's been such a great time :D

Forsyth stepped back from his canvas. He wiped hair from his forehead, hoping he wasn’t smearing any paint there. He studied his work, then his model, then his work once more. He gave a decisive nod. 

“Well. I tried.”

Python choked back a laugh. “That’s not quite the confidence you want to hear from your portrait painter, you know.” He walked up to the canvas, but Forsyth was quick to angle it away from him. 

“Oh, hush, I wasn’t even painting you! I’ll have you know, it was rather difficult trying to paint something without having it in front of me.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Luke was sitting right there for hours!”

At his mention, Lukas perked up. He’d been lounging in front of Forsyth, his eyes lowered to sift through a pile of student writings. He’d been scribbling notes in the margins, absentmindedly angling his face this way and that when Forsyth requested.

“And I am incredibly grateful for his presence. However, I did not want to capture him looking like a sleep-deprived schoolteacher –”

“– but that’s exactly what he is –”

“– so I attempted to recreate my personal favorite expression of his.”

Lukas smiled. “Oh? And what would that be?” He placed the papers aside, giving Forsyth his full attention. Lukas nodded to the canvas, encouraging him to reveal it. 

“Well… you see… the point of this whole project…”

Forsyth searched for the right words. The point of the whole project actually struck him months ago, back at Rigel Castle. 

He and Python had sat for their own portraits, which would later be hung in the great hall to commemorate members of the Brotherhood. Forsyth could have cried seeing he and Python’s likenesses full of dignity and chivalry. The whole time, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling of injustice that boiled in his stomach: Lukas would get nothing. 

Sure, his name would appear in the records as the royal family’s right-hand advisor during and after war, but his image would disappear entirely. He left the Brotherhood to fulfill his dreams long before the kingdom was stable enough to commission a professional painter. With his brother furthering the bloodline and becoming the major focus of the household, Lukas was relieved of all marriage obligations – and opportunities for a couple’s portrait. Paintings alongside any future children were out of the question, as well. 

“It’s terribly unfair!” Forsyth had cried. “Are war and romance the only means to remember a man? Is he any less worthy because he will never marry?”

“You’re overthinking things, Fors.” Python had hardly spared him a glance. “Plenty of good people don’t get their paintings done.”

“And that is just as much an outrage!” 

He brought his concerns to Lukas, who seemed at peace with the situation, as Python was. The pair’s disinterest only caused Forsyth more urgency. After a bit of deliberation, he knew there was only one path forward. 

“I shall take this into my own hands.”

They would find out he meant this very literally. He showed up at Lukas’ schoolhouse with various brushes clutched in his hands, an apron thrown over his chest. He pulled up a nearby seat, propped up an easel, and got right to it. It became their routine: once classes dismissed for the day, Lukas would busy himself with reading through his school materials, and Forsyth would busy himself with work of his own.

He’d done his research beforehand, but had never actually painted anyone’s portrait. He looked again at the finished product.

“I was hoping to capture… er… the point of this work is to commemorate your independent situation… and thus… I remembered the days after you first told me, you were the happiest I’d ever seen you. The face is still a rare one, but after that night, I’ve seen that side of you more and more. I just thought…”

He gave an audible huff. Screw it. 

He turned the canvas around. 

“I am sorry. Perhaps I should have gone with a more dignified look, like the other knights’ portraits. I am aware that I have yet to accomplish a professional’s level of –”

“It’s perfect.” 

Forsyth blinked. 

Lukas stared at the canvas. He appeared to be working out his next words. Meanwhile, Python let out a long whistle. “Lookin’ good! Not too shabby, for your first masterpiece.”

“‘Not too shabby’ is an understatement.” Lukas stepped closer to the piece, his voice full of warmth. “Thank you, friend.”

In the painting, Lukas wasn’t sitting straight-backed and stiff; it was focused on his bust, leaning a bit in relaxed movement. He wore casual clothes, none of his usual professional garments. He smiled. His mouth was a little lopsided, a little odd, pinching his eyes a bit, showing some teeth, but not all – and it was a perfect replication. This was Lukas’s true smile, not the one he put up for others to view. 

Python gave him a poke. “So, now what? Where are we gonna do with it? We can’t just smuggle it into the royal gallery. And I don’t think Lukas is the kind of guy who wants to stare at it here in the school all the time.”

“Well, I… er….”

“I mean, we can certainly just go and hang it up somewhere around town, but I don’t think he’s looking for that, either.”

“I just thought he’d want it! For his legacy!” Forsyth huffed. His eyes shone with The kind of determination that the others knew not to overstep on. There was no stopping him now. “It’s important that he’s remembered through the ages! I think of all the heroes that inspired me – the way I gazed at their images in my fathers’ textbooks, gaining hope from their stories…”

“You’re hoping that Lukas ends up in some dusty textbook someday?”

“Indeed!” He beamed, not realizing that Python didn’t see it as a grand victory. “Just imagine: centuries from now, some harrowed scholar, crushed under familiar struggles. They get a hold of a secondhand book, and suddenly, bam!” He gestured to the painting. “They look upon his face and see that everything will be alright. They’ll think, ‘if Sir Lukas of Valentia can do it, and smile so purely at the end of it all, surely I can too!’”

He clenched his fists, caught up in his own excitement. His gaze was somewhere faraway, imagining this incredible future.  

Python scoffed. 

“It sounds like they’re just as much of a hopelessly sentimental dreamer as you are. They’ll probably think, ‘gods, now I need to study up on this guy too?”

“Python…”

“Or, if they’re like me, maybe they’ll think, ‘mmm, that is one fiiine –”

“Python!”

“Alright, alright. I think it’s a real nice gesture, Fors.”

Lukas had been quietly taking everything in for a while. Now he spoke. “I truly believe this is perfect. As you said – this is an expression only saved for rare occasions. It’s difficult for me to smile so genuinely. I… I never really see it myself.”

He placed a hand on Forsyth’s shoulder. “We can hope it reaches others someday, but regardless, I am grateful to have seen it right now. It inspires me about the future. I… I cannot thank you enough.”

[vecnuthy]

🔀 for Steddie!

Yeees!! This is one of my favorite songs of all time.

Steve was going to get the lecture of a lifetime after this scavenger hunt, because, 1) it was eating away at his gas and he'd have to fill up soon, B) it was a lot of work, and Green) every second he spent doing this was time spent away from Steve. But Steve had said that if Eddie did it within three hours, there would be another surprise. The clock was ticking. And Eddie was sweating.

The directions said "No help," which Eddie was seriously considering ignoring. He'd been at this scavenger hunt all evening. The damn moon was out! But the "NO!!! HELP!!!" triple underlined in block letters and star stickers pretty much meant that Steve was serious. Especially with the "I'm SO serious!!" underneath it.

Eddie wondered if Steve had slammed an espresso at his café when he wrote these, because they seemed caffeine-fueled. The paper kind of smelled like coffee too — god, focus, Eddie.

The whole thing was pretty cute, though. Actually, Eddie really fucking loved it. Steve had chosen places of significance to their relationship, walking Eddie down a path of memories that Steve treasured, but staring at the envelope taped to the scantily-clad mannequin in the window, he couldn't help but be dramatic and sigh, thinking, I'm never going to see him again. It's been hours. (It had been an hour and a half) Does he just want me gone? Is this a wild goose chase? Geese are so mean, especially that one that bit me at—

"Are you Eddie?"

Eddie jumped a foot, clutching his chest as he whipped around to see a person halfway out the shop's door, who rushed out a tinkling apology at his shock.

"I am, and I think that's mine," he said through pufffs of air, pointing at the envelope as his heart rate tried to level back out.

"It sure is," they said warmly. A little too warmly. Why were they smirking?

The envelope read:

I can practically feel you being over this by now, so retrieve the armor and get ready to storm the castle, because your quest is almost over. Ask the clerk for the battle gear. Then come storm it already.

S ❤️‍🔥

An actual flaming heart. Steve was so cute, had put SO much effort into this, and all Eddie wanted to do was finally be reunited with this dork and tell him everything he thought about it.

"Looks like I need one battle gear, please."

The clerk's eyebrows shot up, amused, but they said nothing else as they walked around Eddie and started removing the mixture of mesh and leather from the mannequin. Until:

"So put this on first, because it attaches to the...." the clerk explained the order to put the contraption on, the absolutely stunning mess of straps with mesh accents, and Eddie was just stuck in brain-melting mode, knowing in his soul he wouldn't remember any of that, but then it hit it that Steve was going to be wearing it.

His whole body lit up like a match.

"One battle gear, already paid for," they handed the bag over, adding, "And instructions are in the bag." Thank god.

Eddie squeaked out a thank you, took the bag, and headed to the castle, aka, their apartment in an oddly ornate building in the most queer-safe part of Indianapolis. He marveled at the way he hit nothing but green lights the whole way home.

Eddie burst through the door, yelling for Steve, who came into view in a plain white tshirt and baggy jeans, his wire rimmed glasses catching the light, hair looking big and swoopy and soft.

Looking divine.

"Hey, Strider, did you have fun? It wasn't too much, was it?" Steve asked, moving in to give him a kiss, but Eddie more than met him halfway and basically slammed into him, pushing Steve's glasses into his hair (with a finesse that honestly surprised him) so he could give a bruising kiss as he pinned Steve to the wall.

"Fucking marry me," he growled into Steve's ear.

"What?"

"Marry. Me." He bit down on Steve's neck then got very confused when Steve pushed him away with a breathy "No."

"No?"

"No, you beat me to it, you jerk. Just gimme a second." And then they were kissing again, or as much as they could through smiles, then Steve informed him his eyes glittering with mischief, "The surprise was going to be me asking you, but— "

"What if I hadn't made it?" Eddie squawked.

"I had every faith in you," he sealed it with a kiss to the tip of Eddie's nose. "You got your battle gear?"

Eddie pointed to the forgotten bag on the floor.

"Wait, my battle gear?"

Steve nodded, biting his lip and doing a horrible job of holding back a smile.

"I've got mine on already."

And Eddie could see it now, the black under the thin white shirt. Could feel it as his fingertips traced the design, felt the varied texture of lace.

"We've gotta get you in yours, now, big boy."

Eddie, soon to be engaged to one Steve Harrington, was in for quite the night.