#it would be easier if the days could just go faster but time is dragging so miserably slow

[ihophashbrowns]

ive been feeling so bored and unfulfilled with life recently

[neymarsangel]

Best friends' brother - Charles Leclerc x reader

Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Summary: You and Arthur Leclerc had been best friends since you were children but it wasn’t the younger Leclerc brother you’d be in the sheets with and a one night stand can hold a lifetime of regret.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, pregnancy, swearing, angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.1K

—

Your heart pounded in your chest as you held onto the pregnancy test. It was one stupid mistake, one stupid, drunk mistake. Charles had finally won in Monaco for the first time which meant the celebrations would last until the sun came up. You and Arthur attended together; you just didn’t leave together. You and Charles evidently spent a lot of time with one another, especially when Arthur was racing. The pair of you would spend hours talking and enjoying one another's presence. You couldn’t lie to yourself that Charles wasn’t attractive, and he evidently thought the same about you. He’d always leave light touches on your waist and his eyes would linger on you just a little too long, yet nothing ever came out of it. Neither you or he would make a move or even mention it, you just acted like everything was normal, that was until the celebrations. 

Everything was fine until you lost Arthur. You scanned the club to find him but you were found by the older Leclerc. His eyes locked onto yours as he snuck his hand around your waist, pulling you into his side. He leant down, his eyes still on you as he held you tighter before connecting his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate, not caring if anyone was watching you two from afar. He dragged you to his hotel room and the rest was history well… so you thought. 

The next morning you woke up to a number of missed calls from Arthur and a sleeping Charles beside you. You left faster than he could drive but part of you wanted to stay, you wished you could have spent the morning in his arms but for Arthurs sake you simply couldn’t. Since that day you’d avoided Charles like the plague although that was easier said than done, especially as he was your best friends' brother, but you managed. That was until Arthur started to notice. 

“y/n?” Arthurs voice filled your flat. Your eyes snapped up from the test in your hands and towards the door. He burst through your bedroom door just as you slipped the test under the duvet. “Where have you been?” He arched his brows, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. 

“I haven’t been feeling well.” Technically that wasn’t a lie. “So I’ve just stayed at home -”

“You’ve never been away from my races, even when you’re ill.”

You shrugged, not wanting to look at him for two long. “I couldn’t stop throwing up, can’t exactly turn up to a race like that.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have come round and looked after you. You always looked after me when I was ill.” He smirked, the annoyed expression leaving his face as he moved to sit beside you. Your heart dropped as he sat beside you, hoping he wouldn’t feel the test he was sitting on but your luck didn’t go that far. He rose to his feet once again, scrunching his face up as he pulled the duvet back to see what he’d sat on. 

“Arthur -”

“What the fuck is this?” He snatched the test and held it up. “Is this a…?”

“Yes…” 

He looked down at the test, checking the result. 

Positive. 

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” His eyes met yours. “Because you’re fucking pregant and didn’t want me finding out?” 

“I just found out Arthur!” You found your voice. “Look I just felt sick so I stayed away thinking it was a bug and then my period was late so I had to check…”

“Who’s the dad?” 

He asked the one question you forever wished you could avoid. 

You didn’t answer, your eyes welling up with tears when you knew you had to answer his question. It wouldn’t be hard to lie to him but everything would come to light and you knew it. Charles was his brother and even if you lied to Charles he would know that it was his kid. It was like the universe wanted you to suffer even more because before you could answer him a sudden knock at the door grabbed your attention. 

“Bet that’s the dad.” Arthur said, no emotion in his voice as he went to answer the door. “So what is he a secret boyfriend you’ve kept from me?” He looked back at you before he opened the door only to be met with the worried expression of his older brother. 

“Is y/n here?” Charles asked just as you walked up behind his brother. 

Arthurs eyes squinted at his brother, his face going back to its confused expression. “Why are you here?” 

“Arthur!” You snapped at your best friend. 

Charles coughed nervously as he looked between the two of you. He’d always wondered if something was secretly happening with the two of you but the night you’d slept with him confirmed to him that you were all his well, he wished you were. 

“Just came to see y/n -”

“Why?” Arthur leant against the door, still now allowing his brother to enter your flat. “You see her at the races -”

“That’s the point.” Charles looked at him like he was an idot. “I haven’t seen her since she left mine in Monaco.” Charles didn’t mean to let it slip but it was too late to take it back now. 

“Left yours?” Arthur arched his brow. “What the night of the party?” He quickly looked back at you and then back at his brother as he suddenly connected the dots. 

Ever since the celebrations in Monaco you hadn’t gone near Charles. If he came over to the pair of you in a rare occasion that you had turned up to the track you would always find an excuse to leave before he could utter a word to you. 

Arthur suddenly spun on his heels, looking at you before yelling. “Is it him?” His tone made you jump slightly. “Is he the dad?”

“The dad?” Charles looked over to you before he too connected the dots. “Are you…?”

“It is you!” Arthur turned back to face his brother. “It was the night you won wasn’t it?” 

“Arthur…” Charles went to speak but was suddenly stopped. 

“Everything I have you want, I am always in your shadow and you know that!” Arthur was close to tears himself. “She’s my friend Char not yours…”

“I’m still your friend Arthur, nothings changed -” Your voice was soft but Arthur didn’t care. 

“Yes it has! You went and fucked my brother and now you’re pregnant with his kid!” His eyes filled with tears. “I trusted you y/n, I told you everything about me, we never lie to one another, we made that promise when we were kids… you know how much it hurts to be in his shadow all the time, just once I wanted something for myself, even if that was just a best friend and now I don’t even have that.” He didn’t wait for you or Charles to speak. He shoved Charles out of the way and stormed out of your building.

It was now your turn to cry, not caring if Charles was still in front of you. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you as he kissed the top of your head, soothing you as you cried into his shirt. “It’ll be okay.” He mumbled. “I promise you.”

He hated seeing you upset. His feelings for you had grown far beyond a one-night stand or the girl that turned up to every single race, but you were off limits. You were his brother's best friend; someone he knew he could never be with but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. He would happily let Arthur ignore and hate him for however how long it took just so he could have you.

“No Charles.” You pulled your head back to look up at him. “It won’t be. I can’t break you and Arthur apart, I can’t -”

“You haven’t broken me and Arthur apart, he’ll get over it -”

“No Char he won’t.” You stepped away. “He’s right he’s always been in your shadow. He just wants to race alongside you in Formula 1. He needs you more than he needs me, and I refuse to be the one that breaks that bond between you both. He won’t just get over it, he never just gets over things -”

“Are you trying to tell me you know more about my own brother than I do?”

“Yes I am!”

“Oh come on you just turn up to watch him race every week -”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” You sent a glare in his direction, one he knew he deserved.

“When did you find out?” He changed the subject. 

“Today.” Your eyes met his. “Just before Arthur came over.” You leant against your kitchen sink. “He sat on the test and that’s how he found out.” Your eyes looked over to the test sitting on the kitchen counter that Arthur had dumped as he opened the front door. Charles made his way over to the test, taking it in his hands to see the results for himself.

“I don’t want a kid, not now -”

“You and me both Leclerc but I can’t just get pregant on my own can I?” You ran a hand through your hair. “This was all a mistake, we should have never of spent the night together, if I could take it back then I would.” 

Your words killed him. Sure, he didn’t want a child yet but that didn’t mean he didn’t want one in the future. But he also didn’t want you to regret spending the night with him, for Charles if he could relive the moment again, he would. He wanted it to happen again and again, he even planned to be with you but hide it from Arthur. He had the perfect life with you all planned out in his head but clearly things weren’t meant to be. 

“Do you really mean that?” He looked down at you, fighting back every word he wanted to say. “Would you take everything back? You and I?”

“We would never work Charles. It was never meant to be… it was a bit of fun that went wrong.” Your eyes met his. “Nothing more.”

“Fine.” He nodded, setting the test down. “Are you keeping it?” 

“I don’t know -”

“When you’d made up your mind let me know.” His eyes looked almost glass like as the tears slowly filled his eyes. “If you keep it, I’ll pay child support, but I don’t want anything to do with it.” He left without another word, he hated himself for it.

He didn’t mean it. He wasn’t lying about not wanting a kid now but that didn’t mean he’d want to leave his child without a father and leave you without support. He just knew how stubborn you could be and how you wouldn’t change your mind about walking out on the two of them, so the brothers still had one another. Charles needed time and he knew you needed time too. He planned to find Arthur and tell him how he felt about you, he needed to tell him everything and mend what had been broken to prove to you things can work but you had other plans. You couldn’t break the brothers apart and with you not around you hoped they’d forget about what had happened and move on with their lives. Not wanting to pick between them you got up and left, everything you once owned came with you and you left Monaco. 

It was probably a stupid decision just to pack everything and leave but, in the moment, it felt right and sometimes you just have to go with your gut when it comes to certain things and that was one of those times. You’d moved to England, more specifically a small village in the north of England, hopefully somewhere where no one knew who you were and luckily for you they didn’t.

The village was mainly home to elderly residents and a few small families. It was quiet and out of the way with a good community, the perfect hideaway for you and your son. You now lived in one of the cottages that overlooked the river which flowed through the streets. It was so different to Monaco but in the best way possible. Looking down at your son who was fast asleep in his cot you couldn’t help but regret the words you’d said to Charles. How could you ever regret having your son? 

Charles crossed your mind everyday, so did Arthur but things were for the best. You would secretly look at their Instagram accounts on a burner account and noticed the two posting photos of one another and filming eachother for their stories. They had healed what had happened. Arthur wouldn’t forget what happened but he could forgive his brother with time and it’s clear to see that time healed them both. 

What you didn’t know was that you crossed the brothers minds everyday too. Charles kept a photo of you in his helmet so no matter how far away you really were you would always be close to him. He often found himself wondering if you had a boy or a girl and if they had your eyes or his nose. It pained him more than he thought it ever would seeing other drivers with their children and their wives, he wanted that. 

“If you keep staring you might not ever look away.” Arthur had caught Charles doing just that. He was staring at Checo and his children, smiling at the way he placed his helmet on their tiny heads. 

“You still think she had a girl?” Charles asked his brother. 

“Definetly, you still team boy?”

“I know it’s a boy.” Charles smiled, tearing his attention away from Checo and his family. “It’s been over a year now, if he came on time, he’d be eight months old now.” He looked at Arthur. “I need to find her.”

“We will.” He gave his brother a reassuring smile. “But if y/n doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be. We always said we’d never lie to one another, but she was good at lying, the best poker face I’ve ever seen.” Arthur thought fondly of the memories. If only he could go back and change the past.

“Mr Leclerc?” A voice grabbed the brothers attention. They spun around to meet the eyes of an older woman. She smiled at them both, looking at them as if they were long lost family members. 

“Which one?” Arthur asked. 

“Both of you!” Her voice lit up. “I presume you two know who y/n y/l/n is?” 

Both brothers shared a glance of urgency before looking back at the women before them. “Yes!” They spoke in unison. 

“Good, I thought I’d gotten the wrong sport!” She laughed to herself. 

“What do you know about y/n?” Charles asked, his voice filled with worry. 

“Don’t sound so worried! She’s fine! She’s my neighbour!” The two boys had a million and one questions but the woman beat them to it. “I’m Margaret.” She held her hand out for the two of them to take. “She lives in England. We’ve grown rather close since I’ve been babysitting the little one for her whilst she has some time for herself. She spoke about you two and I knew I recognised your names somewhere. She would kill me if she knew I was here but… I lost the love of my life over a mistake, and I can’t watch her do the same.” 

Margaret was in fact your neighbour. She helped move you into your new home and was also the woman who bought you Leo, your dog. He’d been trained by a local farmer to put your mind at ease whilst you lived alone before your son arrived. Due to her kindness, you often opened up to her about your life. You told her about Arthur and Charles, something you hadn’t told anyone else before. 

Margaret understood your pain as she to lost those close to her. She fell in love with someone she knew her parents would never approve of and instead of standing up for them she let them go, letting the love of her life be belittled by her family and never keeping them close to her and she knew she couldn’t let you do the same thing. 

She told them everything including where you now lived. Charles didn’t waste a second, ignoring the fact that he still had to race that afternoon he threw his helmet to the side, telling Ferrari to tell the press he was sick and needed the reserve driver to take over for this weekend. 

“Are you coming?” Charles called after Arthur as he started to leave the paddock. 

“No.”

“What?” Charles spun around and stopped in his tracks. “Arthur I thought -”

“She needs to see you more than me.” He gave him a light smile. “She had your child, not mine and that kid needs you. Tell her how you feel, not just for her sake but for mine. Fed up with you complaining about how much you like her.” 

Charles pulled his brother into a quick hug. “Thank you.” 

Whilst Charles was on his way to you, you were wrapping up to brace the English autumn weather to take Leo for a walk. You wrapped your son up so he wouldn’t be cold before lowering him into his pram. Leo placed his head onto the pram, looking down at the small boy. Smiling you pet his head as you threw your coat and scarf on. “Good boy.” You praised the dog as you grabbed his lead and harness and leaving the house.

You glanced over at Margaret's cottage yet never saw her in the small front window, knitting away some sort of blanket for your son or even one for Leo. “Must be out.” You muttered to yourself before pushing the pram towards the trail in the woods. You would never get used to a view like this, the way the golden leaves danced through the sky before hitting the ground. It was such a simple sight but after flying from country to country due to the Leclerc brothers you never got to experience anything like this. 

Leaning down slightly you let Leo off the lead when the two of you had entered the woods, letting the dog sprint around to his heart desires but he always kept close to you, just in case. Smiling down at your son you took out your phone to take a photo of the boy. He had his dad’s eyes and your nose. A perfect mix of the two of you. 

“y/n!” A sudden voice grabbed your attention, a voice you knew all too well. Turning around you met the face of Charles Leclerc. He was jogging up to you, something Leo saw as a threat. The German Shepherd dropped his ball and ran towards you, standing in front of you he lunged at Charles, barking and growling at the man before him. 

“Leo down.” You held his harness, pulling him back slightly. The dog stood back but kept his attention onto the stranger ahead of him. 

“Since when did you get a dog?” Charles was breathing heavily, his face terrified of the animal.

“Since I lived alone.” You met his worried gaze. “How did you find me?” 

“I didn’t stop looking since you left, nor did Arthur.” 

“Is he here?”

“No but he’s coming… I promise you he’ll be here.” Your sons cry grabbed your attention, still holding onto Leo you looked back at the boy. 

“Oh baby it’s okay.” Your free hand carefully scooped him up, placing him against your chest you started to rock him back and forth as best you could whilst holding onto your dog so he didn’t attempt murder on Charles. “Shh… shh…”

Charles felt time stop. His heart burting with pride at the sight of the woman he loved his son before him. “Is that -”

“He’s yours Charles.” You smiled at him.

“He?”

“Hmm, you have a son.” 

“Arthur owes me a lot of money.” 

“Sorry?” 

“We had a bet… if he was a girl or a boy, I said boy, he said girl.” 

You arched your brows at the man. “You two haven’t changed.” You looked back at your son. “Do you want to hold him?”

His face softened. “I’d want nothing more.” Charles stepped closer, still weary of your dog as you handed the child to his father. Anyone who walked past the two of you would have thought he’d been there since day one, he was a natural to this. “What did you name him?”

“Rowan.” You smiled, putting Leo back on his lead. “He has your eyes.”

“And your nose.” Charles smiled before he looked back at you. “Why did you leave?”

“You said you didn’t want a baby-”

“That doesn’t mean you had to leave.”

“I didn’t know what to do. You didn’t want to be a part of his life which meant not being a part of mine. Arthur hated me which meant I had lost you both and that was something I couldn’t live with. You know how small Monaco is, I knew I’d see you two at one point and I couldn’t face you two after that so I left. Moved here and now I’m never going back to Monaco, I’m raising Rowan here, I needed a new start and travelling around the world isn’t a life for a child.”

“Then I’ll move here.” His voice was full of urgency. “For over a year I could never stop thinking about you. I have always liked you and I just thought it was because of how you bullied my brother, the way you always knew everything about motorsports, I loved it. It was only when we grew up with one another I knew I loved you. I can’t apologise for everything that happened when you fell pregnant. I should have been with you through the pregnancy, throughout everything. When I said I didn’t want a child, I meant right now. I panicked and when Arthur and I spoke everything through you were already gone.” 

He held his son close to him, holding his right hand out as he balanced Rowan in his left. Taking his hand into yours you stepped closer to him. “I lied to you the last time we spoke.” He was taken back by your words but continued to listen. “I don’t regret spending the night with you, I don’t regret anything we did and I do love you.”��

“Neither do I.” He leant down, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But now I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good because I really need someone to feed him during the night, he’s teething and I need sleep.” 

Charles laughed, this time dipping his head down to capture your lips into his. The kiss was far overdue. Your lips were sweet against his own, a taste he always wanted to feel. His hand left yours and cupped your cheek, pulling you closer into his chest as best he could without disturbing Rowan. He deepened the kiss as you got closer, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip when you pulled away for a breath. 

“Please never leave again.” He muttered against your soft lips. 

“I won’t.” Your eyes met his. “I promise.” Charles leaned in again but jumped at a sudden loud bark. Leo narrowed his eyes at the brunette, if he could talk you knew he’d yell at Charles like he was a disobedient child. 

“I’m not putting up with him.” Charles backed away from the animal.

“Oh he’s fine.” You dropped to your knees so the dog could rest his head on your chest, wagging his tail a you gave him all the attention in the world. “He just needs to get used to you.”

“Margret never mentioned him…”

“Margret?” You looked up him, curiosity on your face. “How do you know who she is?” 

His eyes widened at his own words. Shit. “Probably shouldn’t have said that…”

[a-kaash-me-outside]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭

♡ sure, he has a girlfriend, but she just isn't you ♡ (aka how hq men would react to you asking them how their gf would feel about what you're doing rn)

♡ featuring: ᴀᴋᴀᴀsʜɪ, ᴀᴛsᴜ��ᴜ, ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ cheating, nsfw mdni, afab reader she/her pronouns, individual tags for each~

♡ i will write a part two to this if people want it (send me an ask with a name and i'll do it, really, i swear), and maybe even if they don't because i'm obsessed with this concept fr. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

♡ the song that inspired this entire thing (xxx) ♡ wrote this same vibe w atsumu but its a whole fic (xxx)

♡ akaashi ♡ 1 day // guilty fucking, just can't help himself

“f-fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he tells you, voice not nearly are strong as you’re sure he means it to be. he pushes his hips forward again, sliding his cock slowly inside of you, thumb spreading your lips apart so that he can watch himself disappear inch by inch.

he’s nearly crumbling in front of you, fucking in and out of you, one word punctuating each thrust. “we… shouldn’t…. be… doing…. this….” his voice is just as shaky as his forearms bracing you.

his forehead falls against your shoulder, moaning into your soft skin. he presses kisses wherever he can reach, trailing up your collarbones to the sensitive areas of your neck and the underside of your jaw.

akaashi is really not the type of guy to cheat on his girlfriend, he swears. but he just couldn’t help himself. when the opportunity presented itself, he really had no other option.

not when you looked like that, sitting so pretty on his couch when she wouldn’t be back for the entire weekend. not when you smiled like that when he pushed your hair out of your face. not when he could convince himself that it really meant nothing. it couldn’t have, not when he’s thinking about her so much.

and then he kisses you, warm and breathy and sweet enough to give you a toothache. not a fucked out, gasping for air, desperate to touch you just to touch something, but one that gives you butterflies and makes you feel closer than his skin on yours

lips pressed against yours, meticulously thrusting into you so he can savor every second. he can barely breathe.

when he finally pulls away, looks you in the eyes, gaze confident and unwavering, and you let it slip past your slightly parted lips. “how would your girlfriend feel about it?”

it’s quiet and low, softer than the sounds of his moans or the obscene smack of his hips against the inside of your thighs. you watch the blush spread, up his chest and neck to the highs of his cheekbones, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter for a moment, speaking confidently now, but no less indulgent.

“she wont find out.”

♡ atsumu ♡ 8 months // little bit toxic ngl, blatant disregard for their partner

the first few times that you and atsumu slept together, there was remorse on both ends. over time, though, it just started getting easier to justify and to excuse. the two of you melded perfectly and the more nights you spent together, the better it got.

neither of you have felt bad about it in awhile.

“fuck me any softer and i’ll mistake you for my boyfriend or something,” you huff.

in fact, you both horribly go as far as to teasing each other at your own partner’s unknowing expense. you wrap your arms around atsumu’s neck, pulling him down until you’re able to press your nose into his shoulder, breathing softly against it.

“hey, no talking about your boyfriend. you know i get jealous,” he says, dragging his teeth against your collarbone cautiously so as not to make a mark. he doesn’t bring any attention to how his pace picks up, fucking into you faster as the insides of your thighs start to sting.

"yea?" you say, rolling your hips in time with his thrusts, "and what about your girlfriend?"

the scoff that erupts from his chest nor the thought of his girlfriend disrupt his rhythm. "you're the one that brought her up. what about her?" he asks, placing soft kisses against your chest where he can reach.

you shake your head, arm leaving his neck to cup his face in your hand, pull his eyes to yours, "not good enough."

he knows what you're looking for, can see it in the devilishly sweet smile on your face as your eyes scan his features. he almost wishes that his reason for hesitancy wasn't what it was. the pauses, the insufficient answers, he knows they aren't in the name or regret or guilt, they're just to tease you, to keep you waiting for the answer he knows you want. "she’s not here, we don’t have to worry about her," atsumu teases, leaning forward to kiss your lips this time.

you turn your head at the last second, let his gentle kiss press against your jaw instead as you repeat yourself, "not good enough."

he sighs, faux and dramatic, reaches his fingers over to nudge your face back towards him once more. when he leans down again, his tender grasp on your chin begs you to stay put. you lean up towards him as much as you can to meet his kiss. when he pulls away, his forehead is still pressed against yours, sentence is murmured against your lips, "well, it’s no competition, really, between the two of you."

"yea?" you ask again, core fluttering, tightening as your walls grip him desperately. "only one of us has your heart, right, tsumu?"

"fuck," he says, hips stuttering as he nods, "fuck, that's right, baby."

♡ bokuto ♡ 2 weeks // super desperate, only somewhat guilty

“god, when do i get to see you again?” he asks, all teeth and tongue and desperate, throaty pleas against your chest. his hands are just as frantic as his facial expression, roaming over every part of you without rooting once.

he isn’t even inside of you yet, and he's already looking forward to next time.

it was supposed to just be a one night thing, you and him. and if it was one night out, complete mistake, he could’ve explained it with alcohol or a lapse in judgement. but that was 2 weeks ago.

because no one told him how much he’d be craving you every single fucking night after that. no one told him how much he'd remember your touch and the weight of the backs of your thighs on his hips and how pretty you sounded and how soft your skin was and how fucking tight you were.

no one told him that he'd need to see you 5 times in those two weeks, like you were his new obsession that would quickly turn into a bad habit.

you’ve kept quiet about it, the fact that you knew he had a girlfriend in the first place. you've honestly just been enjoying yourself, skating around the topic or deliberately avoiding it, fearful that if you mention it he’ll run.

you don't really know where it comes from. truthfully, it just slips out because it's on your mind, because he asks you as if it's not on his mind at all, "how does your girlfriend feel about it?"

he stops for a second, movements ceasing, facial expression thoughtful, only constant his chest rising and falling at the same pace as before. you're convinced, all at once, that your fun is over, that tonight won't go as planned, maybe you should've at least waited until you were finished.

his response is softer, more contemplative than the desperation fueled plea before, "how do you feel about it?"

you can't help but laugh, eyebrows furrowed, "i- i mean? fine, yeah, i don't," you take a deep breath, mentally flinching at how horrible it is before it even comes out of your mouth, "i don't really care. i'm having a good time."

his hands are back on your body, assured and quick, leaning down to place kisses against your chest and shoulders once again. "good, so when can i see you again?"

♡ tsukishima ♡ 4 months // tsukishima is an asshole, toxic and blamey, degrading almost, hot

“stay just like that,” he orders, arms crossed over one another, each of his hands on your opposite hips as he holds you still. no hand to guide his throbbing cock, he lets it slip between your lips a few times, missing your sloppy, drenched hole, grinding against your puffy lips. it feels like he’s almost missing on purpose, just loving the feeling of his length dragging across your messy pussy.

when he pushes inside of you, he does so slowly but forcefully, rolls his hips and thrusts his cock as deep as it’ll fucking go.

“fuck, you’re so goddamn tight, perfect for my cock,” he mutters aimlessly. you’re half convinced it’s just instinct, no purpose other than he couldn’t not let the words slip.

“how would your girlfriend feel about that?”

he is so ready with a comeback, it almost feels like he’s been waiting for this for your entire affair. you’ve never brought up his girlfriend before. too timid to say it aloud or afraid it would result in him leaving, it didn’t really matter.

over the last couple months, you’ve grown to know tsukishima pretty well, have learned to roll with the punches and throw a few right back at him and he’s so focused now, not too much attention on you, or at least not in that way, and as much as you want to chalk it up to an accident or slip of the tongue, you both know how deliberate it is

“aren't you just as much to blame as i am?” he retorts, not slowing or missing a beat, digging his fingers into your hips harsher, pulling you onto his cock harsher.

you open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off.

“i think it’s pretty much your fault, actually, looking like that and expecting me not to want you on the spot,” tsukishima mutters, can barely get it out with his smile turning into a smirk.

he wraps his fingers around your shoulder, other hand around your forearm and guides you up towards him, back pressed against his chest, head craned to the side so you can see the devilish look in his eyes. uses gravity and your weight and the small thrusts upwards to fuck you like this and your protest is mashed between whimpers and affirming moans.

“not-” huff “not my fault,” you gasp, pushing off of the bed in time with his movements until only the tip is inside of you and then falling completely seated onto his thick cock. “she’s not my girlfriend,” you reason.

there’s still no hesitation, fingers clenched onto your jaw to force eye contact as he speaks, “but you know about her, right? doesn’t that make you just as bad as me?” he grunts as he buries himself inside of you, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “maybe worse.”

it hits you softly and then all at once, this guilt. and then he starts fucking you harder, changes positions, moves both of your bodies until his weight is on your back, your chest pressed into the mattress as he fucks into you, hand around your throat and waist holding you tightly in place. it’s harder. and it’s faster. and it’s better than you’ve ever been fucked before, even than the other times you’ve been fucked by tsukishima. you’re clenching around him, stomach tense, and breath bare.

and then it’s gone again. you don’t even remember her name.

[ckret2]

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!" 

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?" 

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea." 

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods. 

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek. 

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek. 

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake. 

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest. 

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

[yyawnjun]

VIVID MEMORIES

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUMMARY: Your first vivid memory of you and your best friend, Choi Seungcheol, was when you were seven years old, on a summer evening. You spent the day at the beach and were about to build your sand castle. You had no notion of time; you were happy without realizing it. The second vivid memory you have of your best friend is from a cold winter night. Your 14-year-old selves comfortable between the blankets and a Christmas movie playing in the background. On that night, you found out that S.coups would be moving in a week. The third vivid memory you have of your best friend is from the autumn before you entered college. You were nineteen years old and had moved into a university-provided shared flat; it was evening when you were ready to meet your roommate. So you entered the apartment, and your gaze met the brown eyes you knew better than anyone else. The fourth vivid memory you have of your S.coups was on a spring night when everything changed. […]

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. GENRE: fluff, a bit angst, slightly suggestive || best friends to (to strangers to roommates) lovers

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. WARNINGS: mention of food/alcohol (just beers)

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. WORD COUNT: 7k !!

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. A.N.: hey guys, after a month from the spoiler, here is the Vivid Memories fanfiction!! I'll start with a big thank you to lia @sobun1est , she proofread everything and was always super kind and supportive, she was literally an angel.

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. TAGLIST: @kflixnet @christinewithluv @thepoopdokyeomtouched @leah-rose03 @lavayeon @renapersa @xcynthiaaa

Your first vivid memory of yourself and your best friend is from a summer evening at the beach. Everything is clear in your mind, from the time you arrived in the afternoon, to lunch, and finally, the time spent between the water and the sand. You and S.coups had been best friends since birth; your cribs were close, and your mothers had met in the hospital and ended up becoming great friends.

From the earliest age, you were used to doing everything together, so much so that no one could tell if you were close friends or siblings. Regardless of how you appear; spending so much time with a person tends to make you resemble them.

You had similar tastes in everything - from simple preferences for snacks to choices of games to play together. Between you two, he was slightly more extroverted and found it easier to talk to people. But being such good friends, you - who were initially more reserved and introverted - ended up resembling him in this aspect as well.

Even the more negative traits were shared - like stubbornness or sensitivity. But these weighed much less; you were good to each other, and everyone could notice that. You had also formed a group of friends, with whom you often gathered in the afternoons to play.

This had also happened on that hot summer day. You had arrived in the morning, but all of your friends had left shortly after lunch, leaving only you and S.coups to complete your project of immense significance and excellent architectural attention: a sandcastle.

6:06 p.m.

"We need more water. I'll go get it," he had told you as he stood up with the bucket and came to the sea.

"I can do it! You can finish the towers since you're more precise."

"No, I'll go because I'm stronger. You're a girl."

"But I'm faster!" you replied with a challenging tone.

"That's not true," and he turned around, running.

You followed him without hesitation. Your laughter resonated on the now-empty beach; the breeze ruffled your hair, and before you knew it, you were the first to reach the sea.

And when he got to you, he "accidentally" pushed you and caused you to fall into the water. You were near the coast, so you could touch the bottom, and you took advantage of the situation by dragging Scoups into the water and pretending to take his hand to pull yourself up. A water splash war began; the more one of you moved the water, the other responded with equal vigor. Laughter, splashes, and the sound of your bodies moving through the water filled the silence on that summer evening.

Your castle was never finished - and this memory would haunt you in the future - because your parents came towards you to call you as it was getting late, and it was time to go home.

So, you started walking towards the car; both of you were still soaking wet, and you shared a large towel for the entire journey back. During that ride, you sang your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, imagining yourselves as famous singers with a microphone and a big audience.

If you closed your eyes, you could still vividly see your best friend at the age of seven, moving his lips with his eyes closed, singing various songs with his already splendid voice.

The ride back was short, or at least it seemed so to you because you had focused only on the two of you singing. You helped your mothers cook dinner, which was based on ramen. S.coups was busy chopping vegetables while you set the table. Meanwhile, your conversations were varied; from regretting not finishing the sandcastle to discussing who among you was more in tune. Later in the night, when the spontaneous question of what you wanted to be when you grew up developed, your talk would be further explored.

But before that, there was a moment of play after helping clean the kitchen when everyone finished dinner. Playing activity games led to lying on the floor and starting a long game of Monopoly. You knew the rules well enough to the point that you ended up dividing all the money in the bank and started buying and stealing houses from each other, easily ignoring the original rules.

You remember perfectly the fake pout put on by your best friend when he realized he had been tricked several times by you. His arms crossed, and his gaze turned elsewhere as he tried to scold you for your immorality and for how wrong you had been.

The mood, however, quickly dissipated because your genuine laughter had enchanted him, distracting him from the original reason for it.

So, the late hour arrived, and both of you put on your pajamas and lay down to sleep.

Your bodies were exhausted, but your young minds were not. You returned to the topic that had characterized your conversations many times: what you wanted to do when you grew up.

S.coups was so sure he wanted to become a singer that it became a habit for you to listen to him talk about all the things he would do once he became famous.

Thinking back, it warmed your heart when you noticed that in all his plans, he was never alone - it was always Scoups and Yn.

You also shared your dreams, and you both promised to be each other's number-one fans - supporting each other's choices and ideas. In the end, it was almost as if dreams had become another thing you shared.

"Cross on the heart, we'll be together forever, and our dreams will come true a thousand percent!!" you both said in unison at the top of your lungs, as if it hadn't long passed the time for both of you to sleep.

You vividly remember looking into his eyes as he made that promise; the moon was the only source of light faintly illuminating his face, and his smile was barely perceptible. The bond of trust that united you was deep, and on that summer night, for the first time, you felt him very close to your heart - you couldn't explain why, perhaps because you didn't care to understand it. You were happy, and that was enough!

Your summer days spent together would be many more, as well as the years you had planned to spend together.

In no time, your conversations became more and more confusing, and the words became slurred. Without realizing it, you fell asleep - facing each other, with a faint smile on your faces and your eyes closed peacefully.

The vivid memory of every moment of that day would come back to you at least one night of all your subsequent summers - regardless of how everything had changed over time in a completely unexpected way.

You'll remember those times with melancholy because they were over and with joy. After all, they were there.

The second vivid memory you have with your best friend takes place during a winter. Your 14-year-old selves were returning home from a long snowball fight that had lasted all afternoon on a Friday night when the snow was falling heavily.

It began as a competition to build the most beautiful snowman, then evolved into a team effort to create one together, and then ended in the destruction of your work and a snowball war.

Competitiveness raised your spirits, but your best friend unexpectedly gave up and joined you after raising the white flag.

He'd whispered an excuse for his defeat, meaning that he wanted to leave that happy memory of your win rooted in your mind.

At that moment you did not fully understand his words, but they took on another meaning after the news you learned that evening.

So you walked into the house, where the pleasant aroma of pizza filled the air. Not even time to take off your coats began your competition to get to the kitchen first.

When you arrived, there was a table set for the two of you and a message from your parents telling you that you and S.coups would be eating alone and that a hot pizza was waiting for you in the oven.

You remember your best friend's smile as you read aloud the message left, and his excitement at the idea that you could spend the night together watching movies and eating anything you wanted.

After your victory greeting, which included a 3-second handshake and a pirouette to each other, you determined who would shower first while the other looked for movie marathon alternatives to watch that night. You both assumed you'd be able to stay up all night.

You won and quickly showered. 

As soon as you came out, you noticed S.coups concentrating as he read the list of movies you had made - you swore that, for a moment, his eyes had appeared glazed over, but at the sight of you he had quickly composed himself.

He had run toward the shower, and instead, you had noticed a note with three options, including one of them written in big letters: " CHRISTMAS MOVIE + STUDIO GHIBLI MARATHON."

You didn't ask too many questions - on the contrary, you thought about how much those films had been a fundamental part of your childhood, and your heart warmed.

When your best friend returned from the shower, you were still thinking about the order in which you would watch the movies. When you looked up to discuss your decision, you noticed that the boy was holding a towel and wasn't wearing a T-shirt. You immediately shifted your sight and quit speaking.

S.coups looked perplexed, but he quickly realized what was going on.

His lips formed a pleased smirk.

You were teenagers, and even though you had shared everything since you were younger, those awkward moments - the ones of contact with reality - deepened your bond.

"Put a shirt on."

"Why should I, huh?" he asked, chuckling.

"It's winter...you might get sick." you stammered as you pulled yourself together and went back to look at him.

"Okay," he snorted at you.

So your gaze was drawn to his back as he struggled to put on the pajama shirt he kept in your house because you were like siblings.

The boy was a dancer, and the results were visible on his physique; his muscles were well defined, and his movements were incredibly harmonious, to the point that you were charmed observing him 

You were thrown back to earth by a sneeze.

"Yn...your hair is still wet - he told you as he laid his towel on your head - and then you tell me to be careful not to catch cold.." he continued as he quickly dried your hair with the towel. 

You laughed too, and as S.coups's movements warmed you up a little.

At that moment, the vivid memory focused more on how you felt. 

For a few seconds, neither of you had spoken, as if both of you had been stuck in your stream of thought. For the second time that day you noticed his gaze fixed on you, but his as he wandered elsewhere.

A snort and a smile interrupted that moment, and you proactively got up to take the hot pizza out of the oven.

S.coups towel was left on your head, and you vividly remember the scent of the vanilla-flavored bubble bath used by the boy being overpowered by that of the pizza fresh out of the oven.

You turned around and saw him sitting with a fork and knife in hand smiling, and ready for dinner.

Before long the pizza you had in front of you was over, and thanks to the light topics discussed the time had, to say the least, flown by.

You had discussed as much and as little as which of your professors would be most likely to win in a fight - both of you were convinced it would not be the English one - or whether there were more stars or grains of sand in the world.

After these deep discussions, you moved to the couch and set up the television to begin your marathon of Home Alone, and the Studio Ghibli films.

The evening began with the Christmas movie and continued with Totoro, whose initial song the two of you were happily humming the refrain.

You had always been used to being together, and from an early age physical contact had been a present element in your friendship.

As you grew up, it was as if a veil of awkwardness had appeared but at the same time, it was as if your deep friendship had overcome it: proof of this was the position you were in. 

He sat, and you with your head over his legs while he stroked your hair and you scratched his arm. Nothing strange, nothing mischievous or sensual, simply two teenagers watching a movie together for the umpteenth time.

The more you try to recall that vivid memory, the more you begin to notice how many times your gaze had crossed and how you had been the center of the boy's attention.

You hadn't paid too much attention at the time; you both knew the movies by heart, and you were both exhausted.

But you still started at 11 pm Spirited Away.

With dreamy eyes, you looked at the world represented by the film, and with the same eyes, S.coups looked at you.

You noted he seemed thoughtful because he commented on the movies less than usual, but you had seen him weird all day. It was only then that you realized there was something he had not yet told you but was on the verge of telling you.

Only you knew him well enough to sense it without him saying anything.

When the film was over you began to pay more attention to S.coups attitudes. 

He stroked you more gently than usual, and never had he pulled your hair or pinched you as he usually did in a friendly way.

The third film on the list was your movie, Howl's Wandering Castle.

And, as difficult as it was to tell your friend that you were tired and that it might be better to go to bed, you chose that option because you were becoming concerned for the boy. He gave no sign of resisting, which made you certain that something was going to come out that night.

And so for the umpteenth time, you found yourselves lying in a bed together; there had never been any awkwardness because you had always filled the silence with words or music.

But on that winter night, no one dared to utter a word - almost as if you were both aware that there was whatever you would say would come out unpleasant.

There was only a dim bajour lighting the room, and you could occasionally hear the sound of your breaths.

"I'm moving out tomorrow." 

Few words, many feelings, many tears, and few reactions.

"Really?"

"Yes. But not by my will, my parents are moving."

"Oh." 

You could not process a single word, no rational reaction was accomplished by you or him.

Both of you stood motionless, staring at each other.

His eyes struggled to maintain eye contact, occasionally moving to the sides of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It was a sudden thing: I found out last month. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I didn't have the courage you know," he told you, returning to look into your eyes.

You felt like a great selfish urge to ask him to stay.

"And where will you go?"

"Seoul."

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but your profound admiration and affection for him kept you from acting selfishly.

"It will be a great opportunity for your dream S.coups! I will visit you often, so forget me not!"

From that simple sentence, his whole expression changed; his grimace turned into a big smile, and a few tears fell from his eyes; as if he was waiting for your approval....

Instinctively he hugged and thanked you.

Despite all the years we had spent together, hearing him cry was still new to you - but you took his cry as permission to start crying too.

And on that night, you remember so vividly. 

It was on that night that your dreams and destinies parted.

You would have liked to talk more throughout the night, but sleep was stronger than you, and you both collapsed asleep.

You were still embraced; his face was in the crook of your neck, and your scent flooded his nostrils was enough to bring him a peaceful sleep.

Your faces were still adorned with the previous now-dried tears, while a faint melancholy smile decorated your faces.

Your memories of the next day, the official farewell day, the day of a thousand questions answered and planned, for some inexplicable reasons were less vivid.

But his broken voice of that cold winter night was a memory that never faded from your mind.

The third vivid memory you have of you and your best friend is of an autumn day, the one before you started college.

Since you had drifted apart, many things had happened; good and bad times had alternated, and time had passed.

You made a promise to stay in touch forever, but due to a thousand different duties and circumstances, you both had become increasingly unreachable.

In the beginning, you still kept a diary with all the things you wanted to say to him and meticulously updated it every day.

But even the last bit of paper that held you together had faded away.

Memories with him remained of happy and comfortable times; when you thought about it, your soul was filled with melancholy and nostalgia. Nostalgia is the primal meaning of the word, as it had been for Odysseus in the Odyssey: homelessness.

The memory of home, which had always been associated with S.coups for you, dissipated, and many new ones took the place.

The high school years seemed to have flown past, whereas they appeared forever previously. You finished with honors and were able to attend a prestigious college with many degrees owing to a scholarship.

Fate or not, you ended up in Seoul.

As soon as you read the letter of admission, that location resonated with you with the voice of S.coups. That broken voice on that summer night still resonated with you on an autumn night when you were 19 years old and on your way to Seoul.

Your baggage was packed, and your flight was scheduled to depart the next morning. You'd find your mother at the Seoul airport, who had gone there first to help you with your flat. Your parents had gotten you an apartment near the university as a gift when you were swamped with stuff to study.

Your scholarship covered half the costs, and the other half was split with a roommate, whom your parents had promised you would like.

You slept little that night, your mind racing with everything from the things you'd miss to the experiences you'd have.

Fear and anxiety weighed you down, and soothing music to lull you to sleep didn't seem to help.

Until, late at night, sleep prevails. You awoke after a few hours. You didn't feel tired because adrenaline was racing through your veins, keeping you awake enough to get up and settle before you left.

You wish farewell to your home, your city, and all that had been your life up until that moment at 6 a.m.

The journey passed between a thousand songs, books, drawings, and games. You arrived so late in the afternoon at the airport, where you met your mother, and together decided to take a tour of the city.

You left your baggage in a designated locker and approached her after she showed you the university's offices. Sunset had arrived, and the autumn colors had calmed the atmosphere.

Everything was wonderful on that day, which you remember vividly.

Fortunately, tiredness only set in after you and your mother arrived at your flat. Your conversations during the day had been of all kinds, but particularly at the end, they had focused on your future and the one with whom you would share a room.

You expected to see him at the airport, or at the very least to learn more about him. But, in the end, your mother did not reveal anything to you, and you would only find out who it was in a few minutes.

Following your mother to a very tall building, you promptly took an elevator up to the fourth floor after grabbing your belongings.

You were experiencing a wide range of emotions at the time.

Mostly, you were worried about everything that was waiting for you.

You arrived on the sixth floor and entered room 505 after leaving the elevator. You remember vividly putting the keys into the keyhole - initially wrongly twisting them. You entered the house after succeeding.

The lights were on, and a black coat was already hanging on the coat rack on the left side of the door. You did the same thing, and after putting your shoes away, you noticed that some of them were already there. You took the slippers left for you and passed the others to your mother. You walked down the short hall and reached the small living room.

Not many people know, but the sense most connected to memories is the smell.

A smell, a scent intense or not, pleasant or not, recurring or not, is what most allows a person to bring back a memory.

A scent of fresh sea water invaded your nostrils in that vivid memory. A distinct smell hit you even before you noticed those brown eyes that you most recognized, even before you heard him say "Welcome to Seoul," even before he came to you for a hug, and even before all that you would eat together.

That smell of the ocean brought back your first vivid memory of a summer evening spent laughing on the beach while building a sand castle. Later, all of the other senses were activated, respectively.

In front of you stood Choi Seungcheol, S.coups, your childhood best friend. He had a smile on his face and promptly stood up to greet you in a long hug.

Then he showed you throughout your small apartment, from the hallway to the shared kitchen and bathroom to the separate but adjacent rooms.

You quickly sorted some of your belongings before proceeding to the kitchen. For a moment, you had even thought that you would sleep in the same room - maybe even in the same bed - as it was.

You had then pondered the innocuous thought while the three of you sat in the kitchen reminiscing about the good old days. So much had changed, and your best friend had grown into an objectively attractive guy.

He had grown taller, the effects of years of gymnastics were visible, and the muscles could be seen even when he wasn't shirtless. He had changed his hairstyle, now wearing a not-so-long mullet with two strands of hair hanging over his eyes, and his clothing style had seemed evolved. He had dressed for the occasion in a tight white sweater with a high neck, explaining that he had done so remembering your style preference for him.

Soon your mother was gone, leaving you alone.

On that autumn evening, you could write an entire essay for how many vivid details you remember.

Beginning with the initial moments of embarrassment, promptly eclipsed by S.coups with his usual irony, which you had learned for many years to counter.

To continue with the thousands of questions and answers you both had. Time had passed, yet your memories of each other had crystallized. In difficult times, he admitted to thinking about your friendship, and you confided in him about your nostalgia for what you had.

He had now begun a singing career, although his company could only pay him enough to live in an apartment near the university, where he sometimes attended classes.

He explained how your mother showed up at one of his early fansigns to propose that the two of you move in together, and how for a year you had been oblivious of this plan. You smiled and noticed how years had passed, yet his method of communicating things through gestures and laughing had not changed.

Immediately, he got interested in you as well, asking you many questions and listening attentively to your responses. You recalled the last nighttime conversation you had with S.coups, the one that divided your fates. And that vivid memory returned to him as well.

The temper of fate had you both laughing - the talk that had divided you remembered the one that had brought you together.

Your best friend mentioned how he no longer slept that well from that night, oblivious that you remembered how you fell asleep holding each other with dry tears on your faces.

The hot tea you were sipping turned quickly into beer and chips, and your chats became increasingly hazy as the sleep began to mix with the alcohol.

In no time, your conversations became more and more confusing, and the words became slurred. Without realizing it, you fell asleep - facing each other, with a faint smile on your faces and your eyes closed peacefully.

You awoke in your bed the next morning, only to discover that S.coups had brought you there. You recognized you were wearing pajamas after looking in the mirror.

Your face turned very red.

But after that initial reaction, you realized you were still wearing the clothing from the previous day underneath, so you laughed at the boy's odd action of kindness.

You walked to the kitchen after a short shower and noticed a still-steaming breakfast on the table. With it there was a note with recognizable handwriting warning you that he had gotten up early because his practice began at 7 a.m. and that he had made you your favorite breakfast, hoping that it hadn't changed over the years.

And it hadn't changed, just as your feelings for that boy hadn't.

Or so S.coups thought...but just as milk for breakfast had been replaced by coffee in your tastes, had your feelings of simple friendship been replaced by anything else?

While these thoughts raced through your mind, you prepared for your first day of college. Anxiety was now accompanied by the reassuring consciousness of being near to your best friend, and you entered the structure that would house you for the next five years, charged with energy.

The fourth vivid memory you have of you and your best friend is during a refreshing spring night when everything changed.

You'd get used to living with S.coups while meeting many new people - from college classmates to everyone in your best friend's group.

A thousand exams were stressing you out, and as the seasons changed, so did your emotions. However, unlike seasons, which must follow an endless cycle that has already been programmed, humans are doomed to an end after traveling the straight stretch that is unpredictable life.

You'd started spending your days and evenings together again. You stayed in your room at first to concentrate, while he stayed in his to avoid disturbing you with music. But before you knew it, you were both in the living room working on your assignments. You'd spend hours studying on the computer or in your books, while S.coups sat on the couch with his headphones on and his eyes closed, imagining the choreography he had learned or humming the choruses of his songs. You'd gone from maximum distance between cities to smallest proximity while sleeping curled on the couch with Studio Ghibli movies playing in the background.

It happened that you would be invited to parties and the two of you together would go without even planning it. And if you were late working for your small job that you had found for yourself, you never had to go home alone - there was always S.coups to drive you home.

You enjoyed long, relaxed drives in the fall and winter, as well as delightful evenings, particularly during the warmer months.

Everyone you knew had doubted your friendship at some point - in fact, everyone was certain that you were having a secret relationship. But every time that topic was posed to you, you denied it, remembering that you had been "best friends from childhood."

Back to the vivid memory from the spring night: the night after your last exams for the school year, the same night S.coups talked to you under the full moon as he had done on that summer night when you were children.

When you checked your phone, it was 6.06 p.m.; you should have been ready for dinner with S.coups in less than half an hour. You'd picked that evening to celebrate the end of your examinations and the start of his first concert tour.

You were in the bathroom getting dressed when you heard S.coups singing from his room. And you were well aware that he only sang out on two occasions, during concerts, or when he was happy. The thought reassured you, and you instinctively smiled at the prospect of going out to dinner with him.

Not that you hadn't done it before, but something felt different this time, perhaps because of your incredible sixth sense.

For the first time, you had no idea where you were going; only he had thought of it, and he had officially asked you to be free that evening because he had something special planned for you. Although he had previously given up after your insistence on the surprise disclosure, he had made no move at that point.

To add to the list of surprises, that time he did not seek your advice on what to wear.

All of this worsened your anxiety, which was tempered by the sound of S.coups's voice in the next room.

You spent the entire afternoon in your wardrobe putting on clothes because you had no idea where you were going. You had tried on every possible clothing, from skirts to dresses to jeans, but in the end, you had chosen one that made you feel comfortable. You would have dared a little more with black shoes and more detailed makeup that enhanced the aspects of your face that you valued the most.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door just as you finished applying your crimson lipstick.

You knew your time in the bathroom was over and chose to finish and go to your room.

S.coups came in as you were leaving. He had the clothing he was going to wear with him, and despite your sneaky glimpse, he pushed you out of the bathroom, mocking your impatience.

As a result, you returned to your room and finished getting ready.

You finished at 6:46 p.m. and waited for him to exit the bathroom.

Meanwhile, you had begun working on your crochet project, because you promised yourself that you would begin as soon as you finished your exam session. You were so busy with counting the stitches that you didn't notice when the hairdryer noise stopped, and S.coups came out of the bathroom.

You only recognized when someone touched your shoulder, and you almost threw what you were holding at him. After looking up and seeing him, you realized that you had not only lost count of the stitches but also more than a few beats.

He was wearing the white turtleneck T-shirt he had put on the first time you had seen each other in years, with a black blazer over it and plain pants of the same color. His hair was carefully put backward with gel, and a trickle of makeup was barely perceptible on his face.

For a moment you felt inadequate, and not dressed enough for how he had put himself.

"C'mon stop looking so good every time, dumbass" until this unexpected comment of his brought you back to reality.

"Look who's talking," you replied.

It was natural for you to exchange compliments, but it was never something too explicit or automatic as on that night.

"Let's go, or we'll be late."

"You're the one who took forever to get ready!"

"Yeah, you aged so much that you looked like a grandmother while working with those wires."

"HEY! Don't make fun of my crochet, I'm slowly learning."

"Croissant- what?"

And that's what you were talking about as you walked toward the car that would take you to the place chosen by S.coups.

You climbed into the car, and the first song that started was BLOSSOM by Enhypen.

Scoups started telling you about how he had met the members of that group and how everyone had been super friendly. But you couldn't focus on what he was saying at the time because he seemed to be the only one who had your attention.

He called out your lack of attention two or three times, but you instantly lied and said you were focused on the song and began humming it. So he didn't question it and began singing along with you.

So you were back in the car together, singing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs.

The first vivid memory came back to you.

" S.coups was so sure he wanted to become a singer [...]

in all his plans, he was never alone - it was always Scoups and Yn."

And that was it, he had become a famous singer, and in his plans, you were really in his future plans too.

You finished singing There is a Light that Never Goes Out by the Smiths just as the car stopped - only later did you find out that S.coups had taken a longer ride to let you finish your songs.

Before you could open the door, he got up and opened it for you

"Oh, what a gentleman," you said to him.

And he responded by bowing his head slightly and chuckling.

The place was not far from where the car had been walking. So you managed to walk for less than five minutes, and by 7:04 p.m. you had arrived.

Outside, two big street lamps illuminated the area, and the entry had a large white windowed door. As soon as you walked in, a waiter approached you, and the sight of S.coups was enough for you to be brought to a reserved table.

From the velvety chairs to the scarlet walls, the inside was all about the red color palette. Everything was surrounded by wide windows, allowing the sunset light to cast a lovely glow on the interior. The smell, on the other hand, was the first thing that struck you and brought back memories of going on family vacations and eating in locations that smelt like home.

That's what the place smelled like, everything you'd left behind when you moved to Seoul from your hometown - it had a reassuring scent of home.

Despite the red, the mood was not too elegant, and numerous people cheered the place with quiet talk.

You had been fascinated for so long that it was S.coups who jolted you awake by encouraging you to sit in the chair he moved for you.

"If you keep being a gentleman, look, I might end up falling for you" you chuckled as you sat down - and that comment had been more spontaneous than ever.

It was only manner, attitude, character, and soul that you had gradually fallen in love with.

"Noted"

"And you're even bringing me to an amazing place! Everything is really beautiful here."

"I know, I know that I have very good taste."

Shortly afterward the menu also came to you, and yours was along with your flower.

Surprised by the gesture, you looked at S.coups questioningly,

"Who knows! The waiter must have a crush on you."

"And how does he know what my favorite flower was?"

"Stalker?"

"Sure, sure.."

You ordered and were quickly served.

You both ended up taking two different things, and swapping them because you liked what he got better and vice versa - it had been that way since you were little.

S.coups told you how well the training was going, and at the same time how tiring they were, and you told him about various things that had happened to you.

You finally had time to talk since you had been particularly busy recently.

You recall standing in silence numerous times, watching how the light of the sunset highlighted his face, to the point where you felt compelled to photograph him to save that memory forever.

As the sun had set, so too had your dinner ended; and of course, it had ended with dessert even though both of you were quite full.

"Come on, I still have to take you somewhere!"

You nodded, and both of you got up to go pay.

He was quicker in handing the card to the cashier, who only commented with a wistful sigh saying: "Oh how beautiful is the young love."

Both of you did not respond, so were you both against that meaning, or did you not want to embarrass the other? Or maybe both?

You would exit and turn away from where the car was. You turned left again and entered what looked like a park. The streetlights that were there slowly diminished until there were no more.

If you had not had him by your side, you would have probably run in fear. But by following him without asking too many questions you could still feel safe.

The moment was silent, and the only noise you could hear was your heels and a slight movement of the leaves. The place had grown darker and darker, and again, the only light illuminating you was that of the full moon.

Unconsciously you attached to his jacket to do not lose him, and then your hand had reached down and entangled with his. You walked for ten minutes when he stopped and asked you to close your eyes.

You, trusting him, did so.

He came beside you and let you cling to his arm again so you would not fall...but you slipped, and you both fell.

You opened your eyes in fright, and before you even realized where you were, you laughed as you realized that both of you were now sitting on the floor.

A collective laughter began as soon as he realized that you had not been seriously hurt.

As soon as you looked into each other's without saying a word you began to laugh heartily, partly because of the funny situation and partly because you both felt the atmosphere lighter.

You were still on the ground, you had not moved, and your bodies were very close.

On that spring night, your laughing filled the silence, and when you opened your watery eyes again - this time from happiness - you heard him say "And here's to you, Seoul."

The last word, which reminded you of the boy's broken voice on a winter night, had now been replaced with a new memory.

It was now forever associated with his cheerful voice and with the time when you were looking down on the city from above.

The lights illuminated it, but your distance still allowed you to see the stars in the sky and the moon that shone most of all.

The more you try to recall that vivid memory, the more you begin to notice how many times your gaze had crossed and how you had been the center of the boy's attention.

But this time you had felt it, and you had taken your dumbfounded gaze off the beautiful sight and set your eyes on him as well.

Proud as he was, he had not taken his gaze off, and so you did the same.

Thus you noticed the moon reflected in his eyes as it illuminated his lips with its pale light.

And, certainly, you were looking at his lips openly by this point - menter his gaze shifted from your mouth to your right eye to your left eye, forming an imaginary triangle.

"It's okay if childhood best friends kiss sometimes, isn't it?"

His sudden sentence had amazed you, for you already looking at him so intensely, so closely had been enough to wake up the butterflies in your stomach.

"Mh, I would say yes."

His eyes first widened in amazement and soon after closed to move closer to you and join your lips.

A kiss full of passion, his hands took your face as you moved closer to him for full contact. It was a kiss the two of you had longed for, and almost 20 years of you were in that moment.

His body and yours were incredibly close, you could feel his heart beating wildly, or maybe it was yours? Or it was both of your hearts quickened by the moment so intense?

As soon as you broke away you timidly rested your head on his right shoulder - by now, you were so close that you were practically laying on his shoulder. You didn't have the boldness - and the breath to speak - so he was the one to say:

"Maybe best friends from childhood do these things sometimes... but can I be your boyfriend to do it whenever I want?"

And that was the fourth vivid memory of you and your best friend during a spring night when everything changed.

But, actually, feelings just revealed themselves to both of you as the seasons of your vivid memories changed.

notes: awop this was my first long fic, thank you so much for reading !! idc if the school part of the story sounds impractical, it’s for the plot; "bleu byzantin" is the name of the perfume I associate with S.coups!! 100% rec

I hope you like it!! ;

comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated ♡

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Chemistry isn’t any better than Steve remembers it. He shares Algebra with Nancy, though, so they sit together and work through the problems, getting done much faster this time around than he’d remembered doing so the first time.

He catches her looking at him, sometimes, and finally sighs, halfway through a problem. “Look, Nance, I get if this is gonna be weird now. If it would make it easier, we could officially break up. Have a big fight in public where one of us storms off, maybe. If it would help with… with closure, or whatever.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Even if we painted you as the asshole?”

He smiles. “It’s not like most our classmates don’t already know me as such.”

She shrugs. “Even if we said you cheated on me?”

He’s not fast enough to keep his expression from shuttering. “If… if that’s what would help you-”

“Steve,” she says softly. Almost too softly. “When are you gonna stick up for yourself?”

He ducks his head and chuckles. “Still working on that,” he admits. “I’m fine, though, I can take it. So if you need-”

“Steve,” she interrupts. “We can just break up. Just normal. Like how we did. There doesn’t need to be a big fight or anything, we can just say that we realized we aren’t right for each other.” She tilts her head. “Cause it’s true, isn’t it? We’re not right for each other.”

Steve smiles at her. “You’re very driven,” he murmurs. “It’s something that initially drew me to you. But we weren’t ever gonna make it. I was talking with someone last night, about being compatible. And we just… aren’t, really. I’m not nearly as motivated as you, and I need someone more laid back. You need someone who’s gonna do what he can to help you reach your full potential.”

“And that wouldn’t have been you?”

Steve hums. “I think I would’ve tried my best,” he says. “But I’m still living under my father’s shadow, and the most he’d want you to be is a housewife.” She makes a face, and he laughs. “Exactly. I think maybe if we’d met later, after I’d realized I don’t owe him anything, maybe things would be different. But as it is… I’m being haunted by things that haven’t even happened yet. And won’t, now, because of what we’re trying to do. But that’s not fair to you.”

“And what I did to you wasn’t fair to you,” she says softly. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

He stares at her for a moment, then looks abruptly down at his paper. “So, for number six, I’m still not understanding the polynomials.” He catches her sympathetic smile as she ducks her head to look at where he’s pointing.

“Okay, this is easy,” she says, and it feels like closure.

Still, he drags Robin into an empty classroom later. “Oh boy,” she says. “That’s a Nancy look. What did she do? Do I need to stop being friendly towards her?”

“No, Robs,” he chuckles, pulling her into a hug. “Just… it’s been a day, okay?”

“You can say that again,” she agrees, and wraps him in a hug tight enough he squeaks.

“It was good,” he finally manages. “We talked, during Algebra. Um. She apologized.”

“Oh, Steve,” Robin murmurs, and hugs him even tighter.

He buries his face in her hair. “Love you, Robbie.”

“Love you, dingus,” she murmurs. “Always.”

They stand like that for a few minutes, until the next bell rings and Steve pulls back with an apologetic smile. “Don’t wanna make us late.”

“Screw school,” Robin replies immediately, the way Steve knew she would. “I’m here for you.”

He grins sheepishly at her. “Next class is gym,” he says. “With Eddie. And all the guys I used to be friends with.”

Robin nods knowingly. “And you started burning those bridges with Tommy today,” she adds. “Yeah, okay. Go get your man.”

Steve chuckles and squeezes her one last time. “What class do you have?”

“Art.”

“Ooh,” he teases, because he knows she shares that class with Tammy.

“Fuck off,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and shoving him away.

He just gets right back into her space. She lets him. “Never,” he grins.

She fights down a smile as she pushes past him. “I thought you had gym?”

“Oh, fuck,” he says, and rushes to the lockers.

He can hear her laughter following him all the way.

Because his life must hate him, the gym teacher chooses dodgeball as the activity of the day.

Steve’s good at dodgeball, but he’s never been on the team opposite his friends. He’d always been the captain, and he’d always picked them for a reason: they’re good at the game.

But now it seems like the whole school is aware of his and Tommy’s parting, and they’ve all unanimously decided to side with Tommy.

Not that Steve cares about any of that at all. He’d just like to get through this class without a concussion.

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@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

day 22: True Monsters, Spiritual Possession, Sexual Exhaustion

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

| PAIRING(s): monster!Joel Miller x soulmate!f!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 2.2k | CONTENT: it's Joel Miller as a humanoid monster beast creature with a massive cock idk what you want me to say, creative liberties with anatomy and bodily fluids, they're soulmates because I wrote this so of course they are, monster!Joel can talk a little but it wouldn't kill him to watch a few episodes of Reading Rainbow or do some alphabet flash cards tbh, one curious use of an aquifer as a metaphor | SYNOPSIS: You encounter a frightening beast in the forest after getting separated from your group. Instead of killing you, he spares your life - the first of many surprises from this mysterious creature.

The prick of his maw grazed your collarbone, breaths coming so frantic it was hard to keep from ballooning into the death trap of his jaw altogether. Perhaps it would just be easier to give in. Let yourself be ravaged by this man beast and succumb to the darkness it offered. You lie caged in his form, waiting as he evaluated his prey. Looking for the weakest point of flesh to rend with his incisor. Watching with delight at the flickering pulse he was soon to take from you.

But seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, and still nothing. Just the rancid humidity of his breath flowering over your trembling face and body.

“Just do it already,” you whisper, hoarse and resigned and too tired to fight anymore.

A horrid, strained sound crawled from his throat. It dawned on you he was attempting to speak. “Want. Close. To you.”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. “Y-You want…to be close with me?”

The man beast grunted something like an affirmation, and it was then you noticed the beady insistence of his eyes. There was something almost human there. Almost.

“What do you want from me?” you shudder.

The man beast made an aggravated noise. I just told you what I wanted.

“But w-what does that mean? Close?”

He seemed calmer now, more understanding. As if it was everyday you found yourself conversing with a humanoid creature large and powerful enough to rip you clean in half. “You say. You tell what close. I go with you.”

You shake your head against the rough rubble beneath your head where he has you pinned against the ground. Had he tackled you to keep you from running further? Had he not wanted to catch you to kill you like you’d assumed when you were running as fast as your feet would carry you? Was this all some strange misunderstanding?

“You want me to decide? What close means? How close I want to get?”

Again, that strangled noise of communication, this time an affirmation – or at least you think so. In all honesty, you wanted as much space between you and this hulking man creature as possible. His body was a rippled mass of musculature and strength that spoke to the devastation he could cause if he wanted to. And yet, something in his eyes, in his softened movements as jittery as they were, called to the deepest parts of you to tend to him.

“Can you– I want to get up,” you say with a great deal of mustered courage.

“You run again.” His vocalizations were becoming smoother, more sure. Maybe it had just been a long time since he’d spoken to someone else? You wonder who he’d learned from and where they were now, what had become of prior human companions.

“I won’t,” you promise. “Besides, you’d just run me down again. You’re faster than me.”

This point seems to clear away any misgivings he had about retreating from crowding you against the ground. “Don’t want you to run.” Somehow he sounded sad beneath the gravel of his timbre.

“I ran because you scared me.” You prop yourself up enough to scoot back against the wall of the alcove he’d dragged you into.

His eyes lock onto yours and burn something truthful. “Don’t want to scare.”

It was this tentative olive branch between you that led to the next few days of one another’s company. If your group hadn’t found you yet, there was little hope that they would at all. So, you spent quiet nights together, eating whatever the man beast hunted and brought back for you. The weak fires you were able to light paled in comparison to the warmth of curling against him.

He’d stayed true to his word of not wanting to frighten you. As the weeks went by, you could sense in his movements that he was attempting to display an understanding of your hesitancies to get close to him. You could feel his form practically melt into yours when you finally gave into the magnetic pull each night and meshed your bodies together.

The first time you were intimate was entirely your doing. Watching the pacified creature sleep next to you, moonlight illuminating the breadth of him, you reached a hand to explore. He was so warm and firm and solid. You used the opportunity to unabashedly stare and ogle. So much of him was beastly creature, but so much of him conveyed man. 

You weren’t sure if he’d once been human and had somehow managed to cling onto sparse remnants of it all this time or if this is just how he'd always been. His speech had improved greatly over the past week in particular, but there was still a limit to what could be communicated.

Your hand drifted lower, cheeks tingling with heat as you skimmed between his hindlegs. You’d seen it, of course. He wasn’t clothed, never had been. But he much preferred walking about on all fours than upright most of the time, and you weren’t afforded many direct, uninterrupted views. Thankfully not the case now.

Much like the rest of him, it was impressive and a bit daunting. Thick, veined, and imposing, it rested gently against his thigh. He made a small sound in his sleep when you tried to take it into your hand. You couldn’t wrap around the whole of it, and it sent something hot and electric down your spine, a liquid flame of arousal that had you more awake than you’d been since he first caught you. He stirred at your motions, grunting and trembling breaths as he watched you curiously with half-lidded eyes.

“Feels good,” he slurs through sleep thickened vocal cords. “You make me feel so good.” The way he says it implies he means more than just in this moment – you always make me feel good.

Something otherworldly seems to take hold of you at this admission. Like something had finally shifted and locked into place. It feels right to give him that blanket of repose. It feels right to be here with him now like this, the furnace of his body listing closer to yours as if drawn by some invisible force.

“What if we…..?” You trail off, distracted by that almost human stirring in his eyes as he holds your gaze with an intensity that neither challenges nor frightens you. “What if we wanted to make each other feel good?”

He considers you quietly for a moment and slowly reaches a clawed pad of a hand to your face, advancing with a touch of eagerness when you don’t shy away. “It’s all I want to do.”

You lack the substantial breadth and heat of his indomitable form, but your skin feels alight all the same. You nod, an encouragement for him to proceed. The grit of his touch summons a wave of goosebumps over your body, a low gasp catching in your throat. It’s this sound that plumes into the surrounding air and wrenches it over you both like a weighted shroud. The world feels smaller, nonexistent except for the space you share.

“It’s all I want you to do,” you choke out.

The moonlight flashes against the ivories of his lethal jaw when his lip pulls back in a heated snarl. The tongue that had refined his speech over these past few weeks now wields itself into a binary slip against the column of your neck. There may as well be branding marks left in its wake, and you shiver at the combined sensation of being immersed in flame and frost all at once.

You pull at the wrap enclosure of your attire, mere scraps of what had once clothed you from the elements in what felt like a lifetime ago, and let it fall open to the wayside. An almost pained keening sound of appreciation vibrates through his chest, and his eyes cloud into that void of black, betraying any notion that this was merely man and not entirely beast.

The forked appendage slithers in separate directions, curling to meet in a spiral around your peaked nipple. You grab at his forearms and tug at the tussock of hair that first meets your grasp – anything to keep you from springing heavenward at the staggering and blinding paroxysmal bliss. His mouth drips with a viscous want onto your skin as he flicks and squeezes his tongue across your chest.

“Please,” you exhale. You gently push his head further down, and he growls at your anxious need for him to give you more.

“Pretty,” he grunts. “Pretty for me like this.”

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, almost sounding on the verge of weeping at the sentiment and significance of whatever has been growing between you and now blossoms in the fertile soil of an infinite springtime.

You clench around nothing when you see the swell of blood that has fattened his cock while he was exploring you. It would be an unnerving consideration if you weren’t sure this was a predetermination of meeting, two souls binding into one. The silent communication and understanding passing between the two of you makes you wonder if you too will lose your speech over time – the practice of words lost to the redundancy of vocalizing to a being who has come to comprehend every thought and feeling you possess.

But for now you aren’t mute, a cry of pleasure spilling out as he sweeps his tongue inside your drenched hole. The tendrils of muscle dance on the ridged, spongey shape inside you. The spot begins to warm under his motions, a heat siphoning from his tongue as a rock awash in sunlight. A surreptitious and soft febrility that coaxes a release from you without any sort of warning. You erupt a cascade of fluid, an aquifer skillfully unearthed by his articulations.

He slurps and suckles at it with a voracious grizzle that rumbles from the recess of his barrel chest, whining when every last bead of it has been lapped up. He crouches above you, his imposing girth slapping against your mound. The entirety of it seeps a syrupy dribble, the warmed honey sensation dripping between your folds. He positions himself at your core and trembles at the anticipation of finally becoming fused to you.

You reach a hand between your legs and guide his bulky tip to the lip of your entrance.The balmy salve of his secretion draws a sigh from your mouth, and he whimpers as he licks into it. You clutch the span of his neck and shoulders as he eases inside of you.

The besoothing purl was not so great that it eased all the sting and pinch of accommodating him. Your breath catches when he slips far enough to nudge the mouth of your womb. You let out a sharp hiss when he pushes further, filling as much of you as he can. He groans when he reaches the terminal of your core. “Filled with me.” He says it in a heaving breath like he’s staked his claim.

“E-everywhere,” you blubber. “I feel you everywhere.”

“Feel you everywhere,” he echoes in a shared sentiment.

“I need you,” you choke out, wriggling your hips just enough to further the blissfully punishing effort of taking him. You whine at the involuntary spasm of your cunt swallowing and obliging the heft of him.

He groans at your deference, at the gentle surrender of yourself to him. “Mine,” he growls and rocks into you for the first time in earnest. It punches the air from your lungs, and you hold onto him tighter.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” you repeat as he ruts into you. His cadence stutters and becomes haphazard in its drive to mark you as his his his. You can feel each pulse of blood through his veiny cock as it rubs the velvet confines of your core. Your skin glistens with the strain of seating the bulk of it. Every curve and dip and slope of him dragged against your walls. Each drive pushed you closer and closer to another freefall. With one harsh drive of his cockhead against your cervix, your eyes flash wide open in a jolt.

The choking clench of your climax suspends his thrusts, walls locking down and ensnaring his length where it cleaves you in two. A euphoric sob escapes you as tears cloud your vision and you ride out your high. His own release comes quickly after yours with a cacophonous baying wail tearing through the still night.

The flood of him inside you curls and crests until it is met with no other place to go but out of your sticky, drooling hole. It rushes in a stream onto the ground, puddling around you with the missed droplets of your earlier outpouring. He cages you under his body like a precious gift to hide from the world and snivels in your ear.

You wrap an arm around him where you can and gently stroke the coarse scruff of his nape. “Ssshhh, I’m right here,�� you soothe. You can sense his desperation, the need to maintain the intimacy of the moment. “We’ll stay just like this for a while, okay?”

He sighs and curls you into him, for comfort or safekeeping or maybe both. “Stay together. Mine.”

“Yes. I’m yours.”

He licks mindlessly at your neck to lull himself, and his chest slowly falls into a peaceful rhythm. You drift off long before he fully softens inside you.

This is my first True Monster smut fic imo, and I just have to say I think I get it guys lmao. I get to make him have magical dick juice? I'M IN. ~*~~*~WORLD BUILDING IS SO ENRICHING AND REWARDING FOR THE CREATIVE MIND~*~~*~*.

For other monster fucking fics, please check out @wannab-urs awesome compilation here. I also wanna specifically rec Oh, Honey by @lincolndjarin bc it is delicious.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[exy-shmexy]

the twinyards coming out of their weekly therapy session with bee saying they have to do one activity together as their assignment for the week. both grumble about it, but they accept it anyway.

the week goes by in a blur of homeworks and deadlines, and aaron almost forgot about it until he comes out of his biochemistry class and finds a text from andrew waiting in his phone.

meet me by the statue

aaron is lost for half a second until he remembers what this is about. he scoffs, but goes anyway reluctantly because he had planned on going to the library to study for the next two hours and screw it if he skips lunchtime. by the time he arrives to the statue, andrew is sitting on a bench, a cigarette at his lips and a brown bag at his side. aaron recognizes the logo printed on it instantly because it’s matt’s favorite sandwich place. aaron narrows his eyes but sits by his twin. it’s a nice, sunny spring day, and the sun is shining directly on the bench.

“and here i was thinking the sun would turn you into ashes,” he says in lieu of greetings and andrew just stares at him flatly. “i have to go study, how long are we supposed to pretend?” aaron asks.

andrew doesn’t answer. he takes a drag of his cigarette and pats the empty side of the bench next to him. aaron groans. he rolls his eyes, already thinking about the time he’s going to waste sitting here but he sits anyway. without looking at him, andrew hands him the brown bag.

“eat,” he says.

aaron looks to find two sandwiches inside, one of which is his favorite. “how did you—��.

andrew levels him a look, “tick tock, time is passing. i only have one hour free, better get started.”

aaron takes the sandwich and hands the other to his brother. aaron hadn’t realized how hungry he truly was, and getting some food in his stomach is a relief. andrew busies himself methodically tearing his into small bites. they eat in silence, the sun warming aaron’s skin in the most agreeable way, until andrew surprises him.

“i bet that guy is a business major,” andrew says flatly, his eyes firmly set on a man speedwalking past them.

aaron frowns. he hesitates, takes another bite of his sandwich, then says, “political science.”

andrew considers it. “both.” aaron scoffs. of course he wouldn’t agree with him. andrew turns his attention to someone else. “computer science,” he declares while he jerks his head at a girl with purple hair and way too many pins on her backpack.

“how cliché.”

“tell me i’m wrong.”

aaron observes her for a beat longer, “you’re right.” and then aaron surprises himself when he looks at another girl wearing clothes more expensive than anything he could ever own. “this one is in law.”

andrew hums his approval. “that, or architecture.”

“maybe she majors in real estate law.”

“could be.”

they continue like this for all of andrew’s break, their sandwiches long gone. it becomes easier after a while, and when andrew starts inventing the most ridiculous ideas about the people they watch walking by them, aaron finds himself laughing more than once. he is almost certain the corners of andrew’s lips quirks upward once or twice after aaron gets into the game as well, but he doesn’t say anything about it. they part ways once the hour is up, and when the next tuesday aaron gets another text from his brother to meet him at the exact same spot, aaron never walked faster to get to him.

[theyandereonmyoji]

I really liked the headcannons of shadow and sonic when you’re petting their quills could I request the same thing for sliver?

First time requestion sorry if it didn’t make sense lol

Hello anon!! I'm so sorry for the long hiatus, but what's promised is due and I was able to finish this request! I hope you enjoy dear,

Romantic Yandere Silver the Hedgehog with a Reader that likes to pet his ears and quills

TW: obsessive behavior

Bold of you to assume he didn’t ask you to pet him first, anon, because honestly he just loves getting any type of affection from you. He would ask you to please do so, and when he sees that you want to pet him, he wouldn’t even bother to try to hide how happy he is. Honestly his over-eagerness for you to pet him might make things awkward at first, but at time goes on, you two will grow more used to it. You’re not the only one getting physical affection, however, even if it’s just holding one of yours hands while the other one is busy, or even hugging you as if you were a teddy bear with the excuse of helping you reach his quills better (even if it would be easier to just turn around), Silver’s more than happy to reciprocate your affection.

He’s internally begging for you to scratch his ears, not necessarily because he might be feeling some itch there, but he just can’t resist the feeling of your soft fingers tracing his ears, to him, it’s the closest thing to heaven on earth. He just wishes it could last forever…but, there's a teeny-tiny problem regarding that, and it’s the fact his ears are too ticklish. He tries his best to contain his laughter but he just can’t help it, it’s too much for him to handle, so he needs to take some breaks to catch some air, much to his dismay. Nonetheless, he will not be deterred from his goal, after all, there isn’t a single second with you to be wasted, he knows more than most how precious time with loved one is.

You might confuse his quills for pillows from how soft they are. Heck, are quills even capable of being that soft? Well, the answer to that would be: Yes, yes they can. There’s just something about him that just *melts* when here’s anywhere near you, and in turn, you might forget you’re caressing his quills rather than feathers. When he’s stressed, and his quills are particularly spiky, he’s a combination of Sonic and Shadow. Shadow because he’s scared to hurt you and therefore keeps his distance until he feels relaxed enough…and Sonic because he won’t last long and immediately go in for a hug to try to calm himself down, and it works like a charm. Next thing both of you know, his quills are soft yet again.

Silver isn’t exactly someone you would call busy due to him having a lot on his plate, rather, there’s just so much he wants to do in your timeline that he just can’t in his future. Either way, you’re getting dragged to it, and it’s impossible to say no to him lest you can tolerate his puppy eyes, and trust me, he gives puppies a run for their money. Next thing you know, you two are going around a city he wanted to visit or attending his little garden (you know, the one from IDW), and for the entirety of  your date, together, he’s holding your hand for the entire day. He’ll only ever let go if there was danger nearby and he needed you to get somewhere safe, and well, whoever decided to ruin his date will pay tenfold

If there are instances where you have to do something…well, he’ll certainly be insistent about going with you, saying that he can help you if you need, if you reject though, he’ll spend the rest of the day dejected. He’ll try to make himself seem busy while he wait for you, but to him it’ll feel like an eternity, as he tries to occupy himself with anything he can hoping that ignoring the passage of time will make it go by faster. By the time you’re done, Silver will tackle you down with a hug, failing miserably to hide how much he’s missed you. After that, the rest of the day will be you, him, and cuddles, lots of them. He wants to enjoy every second he gets to be with you, and getting his ears and quills petted is such a nice bonus for the both of you.

[love-and-monsters]

Lich Girlfriend

7,863 words, F Lich X GN reader

You have been searching the desert to find the city that may hold a powerful magician- and the cure to the curse that is plaguing you. But what you find there is different (and more wonderful) than you were expecting.

The world was quiet and still, baked under the unrelenting heat of the desert. You sweated under your clothes. They were light and breathable, but they covered every inch of your skin. The only exception was the thin strip of open area where your eyes peeked out, squinting against the desert sun.

It was stupid to travel during day in the desert. You knew this- you weren’t stupid, as much as your actions seemed to prove otherwise. No, you were desperate. You had less than a week. The stars drifted into alignment yesterday- they weren’t going to stay that way forever. Or for long. They would gradually shift away from each other again, and it would be hundreds of years before you could try again. Or, well, until someone else could try again. In hundreds of years, you will be dead.

Less than a week to comb the desert. Less than a week to find the tiny fragment that marks the entrance to the old Ancient Merrin tomb. If you couldn’t…

You shuddered. Better not to think about it.

You marched on, even as you got dizzier and more tired. Your rations were low- you knew your body just well enough to give yourself the food and water required to not pass out. Every time the dizziness threatened a little too much, you took a drink or a morsel of food. You slept as little as you can manage. Yes, you should have been taking care of yourself, since a weak explorer is a dead explorer, and a dead explorer is no use to anyone- but what was the point? Either you held out long enough to last the week or it didn’t matter.

The setting of the sun and the appearance of the stars and moon sent a thrill of terror through you. Once it was dark enough, you set up a makeshift camp and checked your map and star charts. Further out of alignment today, perhaps a bit faster than you would have liked, but within your estimations. Five days left. You grabbed a few hours of sleep before dragging yourself up and heading out again, lamp clenched in your hand.

Later, you would think about how grateful you were that you passed this area at night, that somehow your travel times lined up so it happened that way. It was only the flickering shadow cast by your lamp that revealed the irregular patterns in the sand. The entire effect was subtle. Barely there. But you could see that the sand had divots in it, lines like it was lying across something with lines carved in it.

You dropped to your knees and start to dig.

It was hard work- as soon as you pushed some sand out of the way, more slid in to take its place. You turned, bracing your back against the shifting slope to stop it, but the hole is unstable. You dug anyway, working with big sweeps of your arms. The pit got deeper, bit by bit, until your hands impact something hard. Emboldened, you clawed at it, trying to follow the edge. It was flat, like a table, though clearly much bigger. You struggled to dig and move at the same time, trying to follow it.

You followed it for only a few feet before it dropped away underneath you. You fumbled, suddenly skidding on pure sand. One of your hands scrambled for the edge and you found it- it dropped off suddenly, at a perfect right angle. Another few moments of digging revealed a wall, heading further down into the sand. You were on top of a building, and you’d just stepped off the roof.

Down, then. You followed the side of the wall down into the sand. It was both easier and harder digging down- the sliding sand of the surface grew more compact the further you went down. That meant the sand was no longer sliding into the hole so much, but it also meant it wasn’t so easy to brush aside. Your arms trembled from the effort, and the deeper you went, the greater the risk of the entire thing collapsing on you grew.

Finally, finally, the wall shifted in texture and shape- an arch. A doorway, set against the wall of the building. You clawed forward. Any doorway would work. You didn’t need it to be fully clear. Just enough to get in.

You scraped and scratched at the top of the arch. The building was as full of sand as the rest of the desert, and the more you dug, the more sand poured out. The sun was rising again, shimmering across the sky. You braced yourself and dug and dug and dug. Finally, finally, there was just enough space for you to push your body through the entranceway.

For about half of the entrance, you were squirming on top of a mass of sand. And then the sand vanished and you plunged to the ground, nearly destroying your nose in the process. You groaned, gingerly getting back up. You’d been expecting the drop, but it has still caught you off guard. You wiped a little bit of blood off your face and glanced around.

The building looked more like a tiny entranceway- it wasn’t much bigger than a few feet across, with an abandoned desk sitting against the wall. Across the room, there was a massive opening, sending the warm light of dawn across the stone floor of the otherwise-dim building.

You turned to look over your shoulder. The entrance you’d come through was dark and rippling, like there was black water beyond. You shuddered. You couldn’t go back through it, though if you were right, that wouldn’t matter. And you were certain you were right now.

The light, loose clothes you wore fluttered in the light breeze from the outside. You approached the opening. It was much cooler here than the desert, and beyond the entrance was a cobbled road, lined with grass and trees. The entire thing was verdant and lush, and there were people walking around, buying things from a market. It was certainly lively and bright, for a place that was under the desert sand.

You stepped forward, approaching one of the people. It was a man holding a child on his shoulders, presumably his daughter. You waved to him. “Hi! Listen, I’m new here- do you know where-”

He didn’t react at all. You tried a few more times, even waving your hand in front of his face. He stared right through you, without the tiniest hint of a reaction.

A nasty thought occurred. You reached out and tried to grab his arm. Sure enough, your hand went through him like he wasn’t even there. No response. He just continued toward the market, bouncing his daughter on his shoulders.

Okay. Hypothesis. Time to test it out. You marched over to one of the market stalls. “Hey!” Not a twitch from the merchant. “Hey! Can you hear me?” You waved your hand in front of her face. She continued speaking to her client, handing them a ripe orange. The client didn’t turn toward you, either. Final test: you reached out and grabbed the merchant’s wrist. Or, at least, you tried to. Because your fingers went right through it. Again, no reaction.

Hypothesis confirmed: these were not real people. They were, at best, ghosts. Imprints of the people who had once lived here, but had all died. The fact that there were several children around made you a little uncomfortable. At worst, they were illusions created by magic to fill the place and make it feel alive. Probably created by someone’s memories, and you were pretty sure you knew who it was. The issue was, how were you going to find them?

You took a look around. The outdoor market was surrounded on all sides by buildings, made out of some pale substance, maybe sandstone. Most of them were relatively tall, with great, hollowed ceilings. Possibly like some form of air conditioning, for when it got warm. It was somewhat warm, though not as hot as it had been in the desert.

But in the distance, you caught sight of what you were looking for. It was a building not too much taller than the ones around it, but certainly more ostentatious. There were even splashes of color across it, marks of tasteful red and white against the pale orange of the stone.

You headed across the market, ignoring the gentle murmur of the people, and ignoring how difficult it was to actually avoid people in a busy market. Your elbows were constantly going through other people, and while there was no sensation, it was weird to see your arm simply vanish into someone else’s chest.

The crowd diminished the closer you got to the building. In fact, no one seemed to be getting within a couple hundred feet of it. Your suspicions solidified into a prediction: what you wanted, you were going to find in this building.

Of course, the doors were tightly closed. You examined them for a moment- they were large, heavy, and bolted shut. Grimacing, you dug out your kit and started to work. Three minutes, more or less, to open it. Longer than you’d wanted, and there’d been a nasty snap of magical energy as well. Whoever was in the building knew you were here.

This building, like the one you had woken up in, was dark. You’d left your lamp outside, so you were left to stumble through the building with only the light of the doorway illuminating the path in front of you. Unfortunately, that became more difficult the further you went into the building. There were the occasional windows, which allowed a slice of light to flow in and create a marker for your progress, but they were well-spaced. There were metal holders on the wall, which certainly must have been used for lamps, but none sat on the walls now.

Despite that, the building wasn’t dusty. It seemed less abandoned, and more temporarily unoccupied. That made you nervous- sure, you had set out to find the owner of the building, but you weren’t interested in getting jumped by them. Every shift in the shadows or faint scratching of movement sent you jumping or spinning in an effort to catch whoever was there.

No one had actually snuck up on you within the fifteen minutes you’d spent exploring the building, but that had only served to make you more nervous. Squinting in the dark, you stumbled across what must have been the lead to the main tower of the building. An upward staircase, which led in a blocky spiral several feet up. You stepped onto it- there was a tingle of magic as you did so. All of the buildings were magic, of course- maybe they had been even before the sealing of the town, in order to reinforce them. Now, however, you were wondering if it would do the opposite- fail on purpose and send you tumbling down to the hard, stone floor as soon as you were high enough for it to be fatal.

You only hesitated for a moment. It didn’t matter. Death was the only option if you turned back. Might as well take the risk of moving forward.

The steps were angular, rather than a smooth spiral, with short lines of staircase interspersed with a larger, angular turning step. Somehow, that made it even more dizzying than your standard spiral. By the time you noticed the next floor in font of you, you felt rather nauseous.

You stepped forward onto the platform, forgetting to be cautious in your misery and it crumbled under your feet.

There was a split second where you were able to think ‘I should have expected this’ before you dropped. You fell for a total of two seconds before you stopped.

It was a strange stop- there were two ways to stop falling. One was by hitting the ground/coming to a sudden stop. Coming to a sudden stop while falling was just as deadly as impacting a solid surface, if you were going fast enough, and you wouldn’t have been able to register that you’d stopped through the haze of broken-bone pain. The other way was drifting gently to a stop, which would have saved you.

This was strange because you’d come to a stop suddenly, but with no pain or smashing. Not even the mild whiplash discomfort of being in a carriage that had stopped too suddenly. One second you’d been falling. And then you hadn’t been.

You lifted your eyes, as they were the only part of your body you could move, to focus on the platform above you. It was a bad angle. Part of the platform blocked your way. But you could see a gaunt, pale woman covered in a robe. Robes typically hang off one’s body, as that’s nearly their entire purpose, but these robes in particular seemed to be trying to swallow her.

It would have been polite to speak, but your mouth and throat were locked up by the spell holding you in place. So you couldn’t plead your case- you just needed to hang there, waiting for your judgement. Half of you expected to be dropped unceremoniously.

But it didn’t happen. For nearly a full minute. Which is a lot longer than it sounds like, when all you can do it look at the ground and think about how bad it would hurt if you started falling. If it hadn’t been for your inability to do so, you would have screamed when you started moving. Even if the way you were moving was up.

You were dumped on the floor in front of her. She was tall, and even with the robe covering her like a humanoid sack, you could tell that she was skinny. To a nearly skeletal extent.

(That would be your second clue. The first was the state of the city.)

“Why are you here?”

Her voice was almost normal, except for a weird rasp. It wasn’t a normal rasp. You would have described it as a buzzing like an insect’s wings- you later learned that thaumatic energy doesn’t vibrate the same way air does, and that can cause some unusual vocal qualities.

“I-” you choked out, because adrenaline also had terrible effects on vocal cords. “I was looking for… for the city of Sol.”

“I am aware,” she said, her voice roiling with impatience. “If you were not seeking, you would not have found. I. Am asking. Why.”             You got the sense she would throw you right back off the edge if you didn’t answer well. “Because it’s supposed to have preservation magic. Magic to stop decay.”

There was a pause. “The terminology is correct,” she says, and you felt a flicker of satisfaction. Unless you were very wrong, that was a note of appreciation in her voice. “Not immortality. Preservation.”

“Immortality won’t help,” you said.

“I assume you mean for reasons other than it not being real,” she said dryly. “You cannot evade death. Not eternally.”

“It won’t help because it won’t stop what’s happening. Do you know what happens to something when it dies?”

Her eyebrows went up and vanished under the hem of her robe. She had the air of someone expecting a trick question. “They… get buried?”

“Yes. Most of the time. Sometimes cremated. Sometimes something else. But that’s usually only with people or pets. But everything that dies, to some extent, rots.” You took hold of your loose clothes, still draped over your body, and tugged a large section aside. Across your stomach, in a patch no deeper than your skin, there was a patch of mold.

Her face showed no reaction. It was impressive. Usually the smell alone sent people reeling. It had taken over a week for your to get used to it enough to stop vomiting every time your shirt shifted.

“Quite impressive, for someone who’s still living,” she said. “Typically that would only happen to a fresh corpse.”

You dropped the fabric back in place. “It won’t die. Every fungicide, every poison and medicine I can get my hands on has failed. Immortality won’t help- that would just make me live on while it eats me. I don’t want to be conscious while it takes me over.”

The woman nodded. “You have some awareness of what it is, then?”

“Do you?”

“More or less. A very rare condition. Very rare. Vanishingly so.”

“Good,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m glad I’m lucky enough to get one of the rare ones.”

She didn’t acknowledge you speaking. “It is a naturally occurring curse. I expect you stumbled into a natural pool of magic, maybe no more than a couple centimeters in size. It went off and triggered…” She gestured to your side. “That. An eternally-growing fungus, one that will grow faster as it gets bigger. I assume it will reach your internal organs eventually, once it breaks down your skin enough, which will likely kill you.”

“I can’t get it to die. Even if I found a way to live with it, it would eventually just consume me anyway, and I would have to live through the agony of it eating through my organs and getting into my brain. Nobody is able to undo natural curses- they don’t make sense. But if you have preservation magic- it stops the growth. It wouldn’t kill the fungus, but maybe it would stop it. Prevent it from taking root any further, just until I live out my natural lifespan.” You swallowed. “Please.”

She looked at you. Her gaze was icy, assessing. Her jaw shifted. She spoke. “My advice to you would be to find a particularly desolate area to die in, so it does not spread further once it consumes you. Alternately, you could set yourself on fire. Immolation would likely destroy it, though attempting to burn it out of you without complete destruction would probably be a fool’s errand.”

She was turning to leave by the time she finished speaking and, desperate, you called “Wait!”

The word was accompanied by a lunge forward. You weren’t thinking- you just wanted her to stop leaving, and that was usually best managed with a certain level of physical force. Your arm ended up clamped down on her wrist. It was the safest area to grab- none of the intimacy of hand holding, but also grabbing an extremity didn’t make her feel like you were trying to tackle her.

But as soon as your hand clamped down, you knew something was wrong.

It didn’t go through the robe. That was real enough, if also unbearably rough. If she’d had skin, it would have been horrible to wear. But she clearly didn’t have any, because your hand clamped down further than it should have until you were holding onto robe wrapped around something hard and brittle.

You’d never held a human bone before. But you’d held animal bones. And you’d looked at enough human anatomy sketches that you could be reasonably certain you were clinging to the bone of a human forearm.

There was a long, horrific moment. Then you forced your neck to move up, up, up. To look into the face still mostly shadows by hood.

The shadow wasn’t enough to hide that the skin of the face was now rippling and flickering, like an illusion spell when it was disrupted.

A tiny squeak passed through your lips. Fortunately, it was followed by words. “You’re a lich.”

“I’m glad you’re clever enough to figure that out,” she said. It was interesting to watch someone talk with a flickering tongue and lips. “Let go.”

You did so. You also kept talking. “But that’s even better- you preserved your body after death and bound your soul to it, that means you can-”

“It means nothing.” The illusion had settled once you’d stopped holding her, but now it dropped away in its entirety. You blinked. She was skeletal, of course, a mass of bones held together with glowing green tendons. Her eyes were two spots of light in her sockets, both of them focused on you. “I did not preserve my body. It rotted. What remains is protected by magic and repaired by magic, but not preserved. The city which you claimed was preserved? It is illusory. My magic can protect the buildings from the elements, but the people are, as I am sure you have seen, nothing more than smoke and light, filling out their tasks as I remember them. Nothing here is preserved.” The eye lights flickered, like she was closing them. “I can do nothing for you.”

Your side itched. You didn’t move to scratch at it anymore. You hadn’t since the first time, where the skin had come away in chunks. “You have magic. You’re powerful enough to create illusions over the entire city. You were powerful enough to make yourself a lich! There must- there must be something!”

Raw desperation cracked your voice and she seemed to draw in tight at that, though there was no way to read the facial expression of a skull.

“I cannot undo the curse.” Her voice was still raspy, but there was a softened touch of kindness to it now. “I will not turn you into a lich.”

“Not cannot,” you said, clawing for something. “Will not.”

“Will not, because my magical energies are going somewhere else. And I cannot teach you. It takes years to generate the magical might to even attempt the spell. Years you do not have.”

A year, is what you had. Maximum. Might be less, depending on if it kept you alive when it reached your brain- “I came all this way,” you said, the wave of terror that had been reaching over you finally cresting.

She didn’t draw in a long, slow breath, since liches didn’t do things like breathe. But the pause suggested she might have wanted to. “You can stay. I won’t turn you out. But there is no help. I suggest you get used to that.”

The lich headed further into the tower. After a moment, you followed. “What’s your name?”

She stopped. Turned her head back. The glamour was starting to flicker back into place. “Name?”

“If I’m going to be staying, I want to know your name,” you said.

There was enough of a glamour in place for you to see the upward twitch of her lips. “Amarys.”

The living accommodations of a lich are sparse, mostly owing to the fact that liches do not live, and therefore need little of the things humans use to maintain that state. She told you to take what you could find from the houses. All of it was quite dusty, and you stuck to taking the things that were in trunks or out of use. They may have been illusions, but it was just weird to take things from the people.

Making a pillow pile was more comfortable than sleeping in the rough, even if there was no mattress of proper bedframe. Technically there were bedframes in the other houses, but you wanted to stay in the same tower as the lich. As Amarys. It felt safer, even if she’d said she couldn’t do anything.

Liches didn’t need to sleep. You could hear her thumping around upstairs. It was sort of comforting, the sound of a real person doing things. Your side itched. You fell asleep comfortably anyway.

Amarys didn’t mind it when you followed her around. She simply accepted your presence with a nod when you showed up, and wasn’t upset when you wandered off without so much as a goodbye. It was a good setup for you. For hours at a time, you would wander through the magic library, examining tomes on natural curses and magic plants and animals. Unfortunately, it seemed like Amarys had been telling the truth when she’d said that she had no way of curing it. There was precious little information on the subject. Mentions of curses, yes, but the author usually only noted them long enough to also note that there was nothing interesting about something so irreversible.

(You would have thought that would make it more interesting, but apparently it was generally considered ‘not fun’ to beat your head against a wall for days straight. Perhaps when you were doing it, sheer panic had made the whole thing a bit more bearable.)

The lich allowed you to watch as she worked as well, though it was a bit like watching someone solve math problems repeatedly- rather impressive to watch, and it was clear she was doing a lot of things with a lot of thinking behind them. You just didn’t know what any of the thoughts were. Magic was a subject more interesting than math, but also one that was much more complicated and, well. Even the allure of summoning a fireball whenever you wanted wasn’t enough to get you to study. That’s why people had invented matches.

“What was the first spell you learned?” you asked on your third day there. You’d spent the better part of a couple of hours watching her. She didn’t ignore you, in that she told you to get out of the way before something exploded.

“Interesting question,” she replied, masterfully giving a complete non answer.

“In what way?” you prodded when no other words were forthcoming.

“Most of the time, I would expect ‘what are you doing?’” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and some weariness at people who clearly couldn’t understand genius when it was right in front of them.

“Because I probably wouldn’t understand it if you told me,” you said. She actually looked at you, then, with an expression of respect- if you were going to be an idiot, best to be aware of it.

“My first spell,” she said, “was a heat spell.”

“Really?” you said. First spells were usually light, sometimes sparks or fire. Something flashy and obvious. It helped kids feel like they were doing something cool. Heat was relatively unusual. It wasn’t obvious or showy- usually it was just practical. And then, hastily, because practical first spells weren’t always done under the best of circumstances, “You don’t actually have to talk about it if you don’t-”

“It’s all right.” She stopped working and braced herself against the table. “It was to keep myself warm, yes. Here.”

“Right here?”

She smiled a little. “Not in this exact spot. The building didn’t exist. It was actually closer to the point you would have entered the city from. I was freezing- midnight, you know, is unkind in a desert, and I was young. I created the heat spell, and slowly learned more from there. Not all on my own, of course. I studied in several other cities. But I came back here, eventually. I think I had a certain level of nostalgia for it- it was my magic that created the first building here.”

Your brain caught up with the implication. “You’re the founder of the city?”

She smiled, preening a little. “Yes.”

“That was… But the city was lost over a hundred years ago-”

“And I am a lich. Effectively immortal,” she said. “I wasn’t when I founded the city, of course, and I found other ways to extend my lifespan before taking this solution. But it was the best way to protect everyone.”

“Protect everyone? But then why is it-” You bit your tongue in the nick of time. Not a good question. Not to the person who was providing you with the last comfort you’d get before- well. Before.

Her body flickered a little, so you could see the glowing green of bone beneath her skin. “I lasted a long time. But nothing is forever.”

She turned and started back up with her experiments. You didn’t ask her anything after that.

The next morning, you approached her with something of a more urgent question. “I’m running low on supplies.”

She stared at you. “You didn’t bring enough?”

“I brought plenty. I just couldn’t bring them all in with me. I figured if I was going into a preserved city, they would have things to eat there. I didn’t expect the illusions.” You’d tried to take fruit from a cart, just as an experiment. Most of them had been illusions. One hadn’t. It just also hadn’t been fruit. Well, presumably it had been fruit at one point, before making the slow transformation to a pile of rotten sludge. “And I didn’t bring much more than I needed for a couple of weeks. I didn’t expect to be out here for much longer than that.” She considered for a moment. “I can help.” With great reluctance, she moved away from her table of magic devices. “Come with me.”

You followed her down and out of the tower and through the back part of the city. The back part of most cities was usually the back part, but this one seemed nice. Well-lit, with fewer buildings and more plants, and then the few buildings there were parted to reveal rows of fields. Or what had been fields at one point. They were a bit overgrown. An apple tree stood at the far end, hanging heavy with fruit. As you watched, you noticed that all of the field was in bloom, as overgrown as it was. The varieties were from all over the world, even exotic things like pumpkin and cacao. Wheat and onion and other assorted things.

“The cows and chickens and sheep died some time ago,” Amarys said. “But there might be some cheese in storage. Wine as well, and salt.” She gestured to the field. “Take and eat as you will.”

You dug in, grabbing a few apples and other ready-to-eat fruits to munch on as you examined the crops. Clearly they were magically maintained, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It took only one trip back to the library to get a hoard of cookbooks and the you were off.

You cooked in the tower kitchen, and you were happy to do so. Cooking hadn’t been something you’d done in a while, since you’d been traveling and surviving on dried food or grabbing something to eat at a street market on rare occasion. Getting to cook was almost novel, and using interesting new recipes only added to the experience.

It was only after you’d been cooking for nearly an hour that you noticed Amarys standing in the doorway. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “You- damn, I didn’t even notice- how long have you been-?”

Amarys smiled. Her disguise was still flickering, so you could see her teeth through her cheeks as well. “Some time, though I was hoping not to disturb you. Your carrots are about to burn.”

You took them off the stove. “I wasn’t bothering you or anything, was I?”

“No,” she said. “The opposite, in fact. I could smell what you were cooking and it drew me here.” She looked around the room. Maybe you were misinterpreting, but you could have sworn that she had a look of wistfulness on her face.

“I’d offer you some, but…” You trailed off. You were pretty sure liches couldn’t eat.

“Quite impossible for me,” she said, confirming your suspicions. “But it is nice to watch, sometimes. And the smell is delightful.” You gestured to the table. “Don’t feel obligated to stand on ceremony or anything. I’ll be done in a minute.”

She did so, gathering her robe around her as she settled down. You carried your dishes over to the table as they were completed and spread them out. Perhaps you’d been overambitious, considering that you wouldn’t eat all of it at once, but it wasn’t like you were going to get many more feasts.

Amarys leaned forward, sniffing. “It smells wonderful.” “Thanks! I mean, some credit has to go to the person who created the food, of course,” you said, gesturing to Amarys. She ducked her head in a slightly-bashful acknowledgement of your words.

“Perhaps we shall say it’s a team effort,” she decided. You dug in, blissfully savoring the flavors. It was good, though whether that was due to your cooking prowess, the quality of the food you’d been provided, or if you were just easily pleased after spending ages on the road.

It was a bit weird, eating with someone who wasn’t. She spent a little bit looking over the food, examining each dish with interest. Then she’d just started to watch you, which was a little strange. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen this,” she said. “A long time since the kitchen’s been used. Over a hundred years.”

“It’s well-maintained,” you said.

“Yes, physical preservation is not always so difficult. And I admit, most of the areas in this building have greater levels of care than some others in the city. I never thought they would be used, but…” A slightly pained look of happiness came over her face. “I am pleased they have been used.”

“I’m glad I was able to use them.” Your side prickled, as if to remind you that you weren’t going to be able to for much longer. It was getting bigger. You could feel it traveling deeper than your skin, every day. It didn’t hurt, exactly. Not most of the time. \

Amarys watched you eat for a little longer. She opened her mouth a couple times, but never said anything. She just watched you.

It was just as you were finishing and preparing to clean up when she spoke. “Allow me.” She lifted her hands and closed her eyes. You could still see the glowing points through her illusory eyelids. Green light flickered around the table. The plates and utensils floated away. One of the plates passed by your nose and you could see the surface gradually getting cleaned it did so. Everything slipped back into the drawers they had come from, cleaner than when you’d retrieved them. The food itself vanished and Amarys lowered her arms. She didn’t seem to be breathing heavily, but her illusion was flickering and faded, which seemed to be a better indication of exhaustion for her.

“Are you all right?” you asked.

She drew herself up and her illusion stabilized. Mostly- it was still faded enough that you could see bones through her skin. “Fine. The food is stored in the icebox, if you would like to reheat it. Doing practical magic like that simply winds me for a bit.” Her illusion strengthened again, leaving her perfectly solid. There was a bit of a pause, where Amarys looked at you. Was she waiting for you to say something or working up the nerve to say something to you?

“Thank you?” you tried. Amarys sighed, quiet and gusty.

“I am grateful for your thanks, but I do not require it,” she said. “I… am actually attempting to thank you. Poorly, I should think, but I am.”             You started a little. That was… not what you were expecting. “Why are you trying to thank me?”

Amarys lowered her head a little. “Time works differently for the undead. I am not affected by it the same as others. A human, kept in isolation for even a single year, would go mad. I am not quite human, and I do not experience the same things. I have been alone for a very long time. It did not drive me mad, because I don’t think I can be driven mad in the same way. Or, at least, not on the same time frame. I didn’t even realize I was lonely. I worked and worked so much and then… Well. I never looked up to realize that there was no one there.

“Until you arrived. And… I suppose you can get used to anything, given long enough, and I’ve had quite a lot of time. But it only takes one little change to make the bearable… not. And it took your arrival to make me realize that I had been terribly lonely.”

You’d been listening in silence, but this felt important to respond to. “I- I’m so sorry-”

She held up a hand. “No. I am not asking for an apology. Just listen.” She lowered her hand and took a beep breath. She didn’t need to, you knew, but perhaps it was steadying nonetheless. “Do you know why this city is called what it is?”

“The City of Sol?” You thought for a moment. “Because of the desert sun, right?”

She smiled. “Not quite. I think I heard too many mysterious adventure stories when I was young, because I was a bit too clever in naming the city. I named it this way because, well… It’s not Sol. It’s Ssol.” She carefully pronounced the extra S. “Backward, that’s the City of Loss.” Her posture drooped a little. “The destruction of my city was magical in nature. Not my own magic, but something I should have seen coming. A magic burst from inside the Earth. Rapid, and devastating.”

You winced- magical bursts were rare, natural phenomenon. Usually, they made people sick for a few days while their natural magic reasserted itself from the disturbance- for one to literally wipe out an entire town… That was a once in a thousand years level of power.

“As it was, the burst nearly unwound me. I was catatonic for a bit over a decade. And when I awoke, everything I had built over centuries was gone. The city stood, but the people did not. I was in pain, lost and alone. And so I created spells. Spells that would maintain the buildings, empty as they were, maintain the land, hide the city from most people, and would create… shadows. I could not create a spell that would replace the people, but at least now, when I looked out my windows, I did not seem to be alone.”

She lowered her head. “But I was alone. Always. And no matter how much energy I dedicated to the spells, there was nothing that could bring them back.”

You put your hand on her shoulder, sympathetic as you could be. She closed her eyes for a moment, pain flickering over her expression. “I said earlier, I could not make you a lich, as I did not have the energy to do so. That was… correct. I am using a lot of my own magical power to maintain this place. The experiments, the things I am trying to create in order to bring everything back to the way it was, can be even more draining. But having you here, even for the brief time, has made me realize…”

She paused and closed her eyes again. You thought about telling her not to bother, that you could leave, not make her think about this anymore. But you recognized that this was important to her. And no matter how uncomfortable seeing her in pain made you, you would stay and let her say her piece.

“I am dead. I spend my time with ghosts. And as much as I have convinced myself I can bring them back, I cannot. I must not linger in the past anymore. I must… move on. And I will move on. With you, if you will allow it.”

She looked at you. Her eyes were brown. You could see the green light glowing in the center of her pupils.

“I am going to make you a lich.”

The preparations for lich-hood were extensive. She examined the fungus in your side, eventually excising whole chunks. “A lich doesn’t need to have their original body,” she explained. “The magic is an aspect of the soul, you understand- it only needs a place to be housed. It prefers the body it knows, of course, but if the fungus clings to you even after death and reconfiguration, you’ll need to hop somewhere else.”

“Do I get to pick?” you asked.

“Yes, to an extent. I’ll want to prep a couple extras anyway. I had some extras.” She smiled. “I had a bird.”

“A bird?” you repeated as she cleaned your side.

“I thought it might be interesting to fly,” she explained. “Liches can fly regardless, but like a bird… I thought it would be particularly cool.” She laughed. Mirthless. “I suppose it’s ironic. I picked an animal that could fly only to chain myself here.”

“Because you loved everyone here. Not a chain. An anchor. Ships need them, so they don’t drift. Maybe it was important to have them. You’re not chained here and breaking away. You’re just… raising anchor.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

The analysis of the fungus took a while. You stayed near her as she worked. She spoke on occasion, and sometimes it wasn’t even to ask for something.

“If we can work quickly,” she finally determined, “you have the option of keeping your body. In some ways, the positioning is fortunate. If it was on a bonier area, like an arm, it may have simply adhered there. Though I suppose that could merely have been cut off and the curse may not have spread. Or you would be a lich with one arm.” She shook her head a little, to refocus. “But it is only tied to your physical form. Deeply, too deeply to be carved out, but it hasn’t touched bone and that will be all that’s left once you become…” She paused, then turned her head and gave you a faint smile. “You’ll be able to change your appearance, you know. When you become a lich. It’s all an illusion.” She paused. A cool, boney hand touched your face. “But I do… I rather hope you’ll keep this one.”

And then she pulled away, doing another experiment, another thing to save you, and you felt like you were burning and overjoyed all in the same moment.

The preparations took time, a long time. But they were, eventually complete.

“It will be easier, since I am doing it for you,” Amarys said. “But it will still hurt.” She’d mentioned this before, but it wasn’t a terrible idea to mention it again. “And it will feel different than hurting. I suggest you find your own anchor, something to tether yourself to.”

You nodded. “I have one.”

Amarys didn’t ask. She kept going. “It will take a long time to wake up. The magic will destroy the body quicker than usual, but it will take over a month for everything to settle and for you to wake up.”

“And then I’ll be nothing but bones,” you said. You tried to make your voice humorous, but you couldn’t hide the undercurrent of terror.

“You’ll be magic holding some bones together,” Amarys said. “You’ll be wonderful.” She took your hand, squeezed. “I will be there for you the whole time.”

“Thank you.” Her magic buzzed against your skin. You closed your eyes to feel it better. Soon, you would be like that. “How do we start?”

There was a complicated hexagonal figure drawn across the floor. It was designed to keep the summoned magic contained, as well as instruct the magic on what to do. Even when inert, you could feel the power of it lifting the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck.

“Step into the circle,” Amarys said. You did so, moving to the center. There were a couple of things lined up outside the circle, potential bodies if yours didn’t work out. A dog, a mannequin, and a book. She had told you stories of liches who’d found their souls housed in books. There as hope for a transfer later, but it was better to wait until you were stable in one form, and if you initially ended up being stable in a book, then you would be there for a little while.

You really hoped you didn’t get attached to the book.

“Breathe easy,” Amarys said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” She smiled. You could see her bones faintly through her skin. It was oddly reassuring.

The magic swelled around you. It pressed against your skin, attempted to bulge away from the fungus on your side. Amary’s brows drew together in concentration just before her body flickered away. The city groaned. The little noises of people had faded the moment the spell started. It would collapse in the wake of the spell, Amarys fleeing with the last scrap of energy and your body. She would get you out of there, and hunker down while you recovered.

Just as the magic swelled to an overwhelming crescendo, you saw a glimpse of Amarya again. She was in her skeletal form, with magic swirling over her, forming the indistinct shape of a human over them, glowing green and ethereal.

Beautiful.

That was your last thought before the magic closed over you.

It was warm. Pleasantly warm, like a summer’s day. And dark. You were pretty sure your eyes were open, since your eyelids didn’t seem to exist, but it was still pitch black. There was a feeling like floating. Or being rocked. And maybe someone was humming? You wanted to close your eyes to focus more on the sound, but you had no eyelids. The sound was drawing closer and it was beautiful, humming right into your soul…

Something creaked and a thin beam of light appeared. The beam widened until you were surrounded in light, and then your eyes began to adjust.

You were in a building, the walls made of clay. It was modestly decorated, with a cluster of magical artifacts scattered across the floor. But you only looked around for a moment before focusing on the person above you.

Amarys was leaning over you. Her illusion was still faint, giving you a clear sight of her skeleton through her skin. But you could still see that she was smiling.

“There you are.” She eased a hand into the box (the coffin, presumably) and helped you up. Your body had been wrapped in deep purple cloth, but your arms and hands had been exposed. You could see your skeleton, wreathed in the pale, sunshine-yellow of your magic.

“I’m alive,” you said- or tried to say. You weren’t experienced enough to speak properly without lips.

“Take it easy,” Amarys said. “We’ll work on that later.” She rested her hands on your face. You could still feel them, though it wasn’t the same as feeling skin on skin contact. There was something deeper- the contact of her magic against yours. Like your souls were brushing together. Sharp tingles rolled along your body.

“Oh,” Amarys said as she drank in your face. Her eyes gleamed with magic and emotion. “You’re beautiful.”

Your magic swirled in eddies of delight. Amarys leaned in and the contact of magic against magic sharpened to something bright and overwhelming and wonderful. There wasn’t a kiss- there were no lips to have one with. But the magic that flowed and combined was more intense and intimate than any kiss you’d ever had.

[crazychaoticizzy]

The River

Armin X Reader

If I follow you to the river, throw my blues out to the sea, will you stay with me forever? Will you chase me in my dreams?

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, kissing, heartbreak, i didn’t wanna put effort into a summary so I took lyrics from the Daisy Jones & the Six song, btw this is inspired by “The River” by them

Word Count: 2.7k

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There was a river you and Armin would go to. It was just down the road from your small town and always had flowers blooming on the riverbed. You remember the first time Armin asked if you wanted to go there with him when you were eight years old.

“Wanna go somewhere with me?”

“Where?”

“The river. It’s down there.” He had pointed to his left.

“I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I just wanted to know where we were going.”

You had already started walking beside him by that point. You looked down at your feet and kicked rocks, your hands in fists in an attempt to keep them warm against the cold atmosphere.

“Grandpa said we had to be back before dinner,” Armin said. He kept with your pace, thought it was obvious he wanted to move a little faster. “He says if we stay out too late we’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay. My mom also said we were coming to your house for dinner and a game or something.”

Armin nodded, turning his head to face you. “Yeah, my grandpa said the same thing.”

He suddenly smiled and grabbed your hand. “Can we race?”

He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, fighting back a smile as he waited for your response. You nodded without a second thought, and moments later dirt and dust were kicked up behind you as you sprinted to the river.

You had slipped and nearly fell in that first time, but the water had frozen over so instead of dipping your feet into it, they slid across the surface.

Armin pulled you back. He’d grabbed you by the wrists and dragged you backward until you looked up at him beneath a leafless tree. You smiled at him and laughed, pushing yourself off the ground and dusting the dirt off yourself.

The two of you sat and talked for hours. You built mock snowmen out of dirt, giving them pebbles for eyes and sticks too big for the figures as limbs. You picked a blade of dead grass out of the ground and gave yours a scarf, smiling at your work.

You had lost track of time that first time. It wasn’t until the natural daylight was nearly gone that you and Armin realized you needed to head back, and you sprinted so you didn’t get in trouble.

Every day after that you went to the river. It didn’t matter how cold or hot it was, how rainy or humid or dry it was, every day you and Armin would meet on the riverbed and talk for hours on end, pushing your worries to the side.

One day, you decided to follow the stream. It led down a hill, pouring out into an area of water not quite big enough to be a lake but not small enough to be a pond.

You will always remember the smile on Armin’s face. So big and bright and perfect. He let out a breath of a laugh, looking at you for a moment before he grabbed your hand and dragged you to the dock.

He jumped in first. You gasped and covered your mouth, not expecting him to do something so spontaneous. It wasn’t cold, but the weather wasn’t ideal for swimming. He must be freezing.

His head popped out of the water, his blond hair sticking to his forehead as he turned to find you. He smiled, awkwardly paddling over to you.

“You should come in,” he said. You knelt down, leaning over the edge of the dock so you could talk to him easier.

“Do you know how crazy that is?”

Armin shrugged. Then he lifted his hand, splashing you with water.

You yelped and jumped back, trying to avoid the cold water. You let out a laugh, looking down at him again as he smiled.

You softly shook your head. You thought yourself insane, absolutely bonkers to be agreeing, but you took your shoes and socks off anyways and stood at the edge.

You took a deep breath, and then another. And then one more for good measure. And another one just in case-

“Stop stalling,” Armin said. You glared at him, making him chuckle. “It really isn’t that bad, I promise.”

You exhaled. Despite the roll of his eyes he gave, you took another deep breath before jumping.

It really was that bad. The water was freezing and it felt like you were being stabbed with a million needles by the time you reached the surface.

God, you regretted it. But seeing Armin smile made it all worth it. You chuckled, and then Armin chuckled, and that was the start of a fit of laughs that continued on even after you had gotten out of the water and retrieved your shoes.

You started going to that little lake, too. Not nearly as often as your spot on the riverbed, but sometimes during the summer the two of you would swim together until your fingers were puny and the sun had set.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise when you caught feelings for each other, considering how much time you spent together. It wasn’t complicated either. Instead, it was something that happened gradually, something that felt natural. It started with small touches that would grow longer and longer, discreetly sitting closer together until you eventually began sitting in his lap beneath the tree. You would read books together, sometimes eat snacks or meals by the river.

You cherished the river. It was the closest Armin would ever get to the ocean, seeing as he was dirt poor and the chances of him getting out of that poverty were extremely low. Armin loved the sea and the river and the little lake you’d found, and you loved Armin, so you loved the sea and the river and that little lake, too.

Your little situationship solidified when you finally kissed him at sixteen. He had been talking, staring across at the other side of the river as he droned on and on about customers he had encountered that day.

You weren’t paying attention. How could you when the boy you were so in love with looked so pretty?

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You weren’t sure if it counted as a real first kiss, but the way Armin’s eyes widened in shock made you smile.

He turned to look at you, asking about that kiss. You had shrugged, trying to play it off in case he didn’t like it—in case he didn’t want it.

You left him breathless, his mouth slightly agape before he closed it and swallowed. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he flexed his hand, wrapping his fingers into a fist before stretching them out again and wiping them on his jeans.

“I-I liked it,” he mumbled, and then he looked away and cleared his throat.

You stared at him for a moment, fidgeting with one of the tears in your jeans.

“Do you want another one?”

He paused for a second before nodding, turning his head back to you.

He didn’t kiss back at first, getting used to the feel of your soft lips against his. He wanted to memorize the way they moved against him so much he almost didn’t kiss back at all, but then he felt your hand graze his arm and he pressed against you, pulling you closer.

It was soft and timid. Experimental in the way neither of you did anything but pucker your lips and push them together. You didn’t want to mess it up, and you feared you had before you pulled away and saw the dazed look Armin had on his face.

You smiled, and he smiled too. You remember thinking that this must be the most perfect moment to have ever existed.

“Does this mean we’re . . ?” You left it unsaid, not wanting to push anything if he didn’t want it.

Armin nodded. “If you want.”

You nodded, too. “I do.”

Armin nodded again, not knowing what else to do.

“Will you stay with me forever?” he suddenly asks. He swallows again, and immediately regrets asking because maybe forever is too much of a commitment for what just started.

“Armin.” You gently cupped his cheek with your hand, pressing your forehead against his. Maybe this was too much, maybe it was too much of an intimate moment for people like you, but you did it anyway. “I said I’d follow you anywhere when we were little. I intend to keep that promise for the rest of my life.”

Armin smiled. He remembered when you said that, too. He thought about it every day, wishing that you’d said those words when you were older and had an idea of what love was. But when you made that promise to him, he was over the moon.

You talked about visiting the ocean that day. You suggested that you start saving money so you eventually had enough to travel, to the ocean side. Maybe even live there, if you got lucky.

You agreed, and the next day you brought a used tin to put money in. You and Armin hid it in a tree, which might not have been the best idea but every day when you looked it was still there. Every time you put an amount of money inside it, you and Armin would kiss. You would kiss even if there wasn’t anything to add. Sometimes your kisses would progress, growing steamier along with your need to be closer and closer to Armin.

The thought of true love crossed your mind one night after the two of you had gone skinny dipping (a stupid decision, really, but nothing made it more worth it than the fact that you did it together), and you decided for yourself that you’d found it. Your one true love, forever and ever until death did you part, was Armin Arlert. You were sure of it.

But it wasn’t death that did you part, no. Instead it was something you never saw coming.

At eighteen, one cold day in December, Armin told you he was joining the military the following year.

He gave you no warning. There wasn’t even any indication before then that he had considered enlisting. But here he was, mumbling it against your lips as you kissed.

You had stopped kissing him, pulling away. You could tell from the way he didn’t chase your lips like he normally did that he was expecting you to do that.

You sat up, adjusting the blanket beneath you so you sat on it instead of barely on the corner. Armin followed, biting the inside of his cheek as he awaited your response.

“What do you mean?” You didn’t know what else to say. Your words had been stolen and it felt like your tongue had been cut out with how difficult it was to string that question together.

“I . . . Yeah.” His lips were pressed into a line. He didn’t know what to say either.

“Why?”

Armin shrugged. “I’m never gonna get out of here anyway. And . . . I’d like to see the ocean at least once.”

“So you’re joining the Marines?”

Armin nodded. “That’s what I hope, at least.”

It was silent. For once, you hated that it was quiet. Silences with Armin were never like this. You felt comfortable in his presence all the time, but all you felt now was dread.

“I . . . was also hoping you’d come with me.”

You met his gaze, and looking back he knew in that exact moment what your decision would be before you’d even made it.

You found yourself softly shaking your head. You aren’t even sure when you came to that conclusion, but you knew you couldn’t.

“I can’t. I can’t just leave everything behind, Armin.” You wanted to say something else, but you just trailed off, the words getting lost in your throat.

“Don’t you want to come with me? I know I won’t be there a lot at first, but then I’ll retire and we’ll be living in a new city.” He took hold of your hand. His fingers were cold against your warm ones. His cheeks and nose were pink, and you could tell he was cold. “It’d be a new start, like we said.”

“But . . . Are we just going to leave everything? My parents, your grandpa?” You squeezed his fingers, trying to warm them up, but also trying to convince him not to go. You wanted him to know that what you had was enough. You didn’t care if you never got that fresh start or saw the ocean or saw the world, you just needed him.

“I know, and we’d visit them sometimes.” He squeezed your hands back, scooting closer to you. He lifted a hand and place it on the back of your neck, holding eye contact. “If we stay here, Y/n, we’ll never leave. We’ll never see the ocean or travel the world or do anything else we talked about doing.”

“I don’t care if we never do any of that, Armin,” you say.

“You were the one that always brought it up.”

“Because it made you so happy when we talked about it. I just- I was trying to dream up a future with you.”

Armin lets out a breath, he dropped his head, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“Please don’t make me choose, Armin,” you softly say. “Because I won’t be able to.”

He lifts his head, softly nodding. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles and your fingertips and your wrists before he says, “Then don’t. Stay here. I’m joining the Marines either way, and maybe we can work it out.”

You exhaled, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “Armin . . .”

He hummed, leaning into your touch for the briefest of moments before quickly pressing his lips against yours and standing up. “We should get going. It’s getting late.”

“Armin.” You stood as well, but Armin had already gathered some of what you’d brought and started walking away. “Armin, wait!”

You scrambled to pick up what was left over and catch up to him, but it wasn’t the same after that. There was a divide between the two of you now, one you didn’t know how to fix.

You weren’t sure if that was a break up. All you knew was that the air between you two was more tense. The kisses you shared were shorter and less emotional. They didn’t have that same love and sweetness they once had, and you knew you were losing him. You were losing him, but you didn’t know how to get him back.

You remember softly crying one night. Your mom had heard the sniffles from your room and came to check on you. You told her what you were feeling through your tears and all the advice she offered was, “Life will run its course, sweetheart. People will come and go but that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

The thing was you didn’t want Armin to be something that came and went. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to be able to wake up next to him every morning and say good night every night and be able to say that’s my husband when people asked.

You just wanted him. It didn’t matter how you had him, you just wanted him to be by your side like you had always been at his.

But you didn’t want to leave your family. You didn’t want to become a military wife that waited for her husband to come home for a short amount of time before he left again. You couldn’t do it.

You and Armin didn’t talk about it again, but in the months following it felt like you were growing apart. You stopped kissing and you’d stopped sitting so close. Early in spring, you found yourself waiting for him by the riverbed.

He didn’t come that day. Or the day after. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

You knew he hadn’t left. You’d seen him in town. You had visited his house. But he never came to the river anymore. You still went everyday, hoping he’d be there. He never was. And he never came.

And then he was gone, and you cried for weeks.

He’d moved on and saw the sea without you all because he went somewhere you weren’t willing to follow.

this was a vision that came to the in the middle of the night and i wrote it in one and a half sittings

anyways i hope you enjoyed <3

TAGGING: @arlerts-angel @ocean-armin if you’d like to be notified whenever I write for Armin please leave a comment or DM!

[mirkwoodmunson]

Would you pretty please turn this picture into an Eddie munson fanfiction? I've been searching the Internet and have yet to find anything like this. If you not comfortable, I totally understand!!

me: writing break!

mailbox: 🫶

me: …..umm ANYWAY *frantic typing*

I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA

tw: cursing, angst, panic/anxiety attack, dissociation, night terrors, depressed/anxious reader, post-v2 (fixit)

it takes a long time for your nights to go back to a state of semi-normalcy. a long time of regaining the ability to lay in bed comfortable and calm and eager for sleep, a long time of healing and bandages and pained tears, a long time of struggling for the smallest crumbs of comfort. but you had each other, and that made it easier of course — but it was still an uphill battle for those first few months. there was a lot of heartache, a lot of tears and strain, but far be it from eddie and you to let the darkness come out on top. you were both fighters, and when the battle got too rough for one of you, the other always managed to gather enough strength to keep the both of you pushing, moving forward. persevering.

when the darkness got the better of you, eddie was there to blind it with his brilliance.

nights… you’d come to dread them. during the day the sun could blot out your thoughts, soothe worries with its warmth, and you had things to do and places to go and people to see; the day didn’t give you the time to worry. but when night fell, when it was just you and eddie and the quiet — not that you didn’t enjoy those things, but with the night and the quiet, and the memories you and eddie now shared… nights were still sometimes difficult.

the thing is, eddie doesn’t remember that night. he doesn’t remember anything after the bats.

but you do.

you remember, and you’ve had to watch it again, and again — at first it was every time you tried to sleep, then just when you slept at night, but always sleeping during the day became a problem. then after a while, after nights started to feel somewhat tolerable, it was every other night. every few nights. you were down to once every few weeks now, but even then, the idea of just trying to get some rest had become so stressful it was just a frustrating cycle of exhaustion at this point.

and how could you bother eddie with this? he knew, but you didn’t complain beyond the initial waking up from the dreams. sure he didn’t remember that night, but he still remembered facing the bats. he still had to go through the stint in the hospital, recovery at home. you were both dealing with your individual traumas. he always assured you you were allowed to feel it too, you didn’t need to act tough around him — you’d become so quiet. so tired. he would always tell you the way through was together, that he had your back. but you still felt like it would burden him. far be it from you to be a burden.

really though, there’s only so many times you can say you’re okay when you’re not before it becomes too much to handle alone.

tonight it takes you by surprise. tonight you fall asleep in eddie’s arms, but you wake up and, you’re there. you’re in the wasteland that is the upside down and you’re running but you can’t run fast enough and there’s not enough air in your lungs. the red flashes are too bright, too disorienting, you can just barely make out the swarm.

when they suddenly drop from the air, you see the body they surround and you drop too. it’s too much, too heavy, too real — the little air you have rips from your lungs and you crawl to him, you know you can save him if you just go fast enough but you can’t move any faster, no matter how hard you scream you can’t get to him any quicker, like you’re pulling yourself through drying concrete. you hear dustin crying.

you reach, so hard your muscles pull and you cry, and you grab his vest and drag yourselves together, gripping him tight light you’re about to be pulled away from him again. you try and talk him awake but your lips move slow too, it’s muffled in your ears like you’re underwater, clogged and distant. if you’re loud enough, cry hard enough, scream loud enough, maybe he’ll wake up. your foreheads are pressed together as you beg for him to wake the fuck up —

“please wake up please wake up please wake up,” his eyes snap open and he holds your face, talking to you quickly, quietly, murmuring a pleading song.

you feel like you’re being pulled up through water.

you wheeze deep and suddenly breach the surface, gasping wildly into a dark space, but that voice remains and keeps guiding you from the murky depths; it’s soft, always soft — calling to you with a tender earnestness.

“i’m here. i’m here — you’re safe; you’re awake.”

you start to wail, and eddie leans over to turn on the lamp before pulling you into his lap, into his arms, careful but quick. he tries not to waver, not to show how startled he is — but he can’t help the tremble in the way that he holds you, the break in his voice.

“it’s okay, y/n it’s okay — i promise. you’re not there. you’re home. i’m here.”

“i-i-i — fine — i’m fine — i’m fine,” it almost hurts to speak, takes effort between the deep breaths and hiccups and sobs. eddie leans you away a bit, pushes damp hair from your cheeks and cups them in warm calloused hands that are firm but loving, urging you to look at him.

through the tears you see his eyes are wide but tired, concerned and sad and alarmed, when you try to look away he holds you still, shaking his head firmly.

“no. no sweetheart you’re not okay.”

he looks at you a moment longer before pulling you back into him as you shudder, quaking with the force of it, gripping his shirt tight to ground yourself as you weep into his shoulder.

eddie shushes you softly, holds you so tight his arms tremble and hides his face in your hair.

“i’m here. you’re safe. i’ve got you. i promise.”

“wh-what about you??”

“i’m safe too, baby. we’re safe. we’re home.”

one of his hands slides around one of yours, soothes it open to release his shirt and then guides it down to the bedsheets.

“feel our bed? the sheets?”

he takes your quieting cries as a ‘yes,’ and smiles small, kissing your temple. you’re starting to focus on him, on your surroundings.

“feel my shirt? an’ my arms?”

you nod, running your thumb over the faded black fabric held tight in your fist, full of holes and tears. you’d got it for eddie when he took you to see judas priest, the metal conqueror tour. you guys hadn’t started dating yet. some dude spilt beer on you and shouted at you for the audacity, eddie had punched him in the face, and then you’d started dating.

“hey! there’s a smile!” eddie peers down at you with a smile of his own, and you sniffle but hold it for him through the stubborn tears. “there you go. where’d that come from?”

“you,” you respond simply, tearfully.

eddie laughs softly and pulls you in again, rocking you in his arms, muttering gentle affirmations.

[suddenlybambi]

as long as you stay here [9] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.5k

chapter 9

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a/n - two updates in one day???? technically no as its 1am for me... but if i update again at usual time then it'll be yes! time will tell!!

Kyle drove a little faster than the speed limit on some empty roads in order to get back quicker, which he knew he shouldn’t have done and was paranoid about the entire time. He knew he had only had one beer, but he was terrified of the idea of being pulled over by a cop. He was soon distracted by the soft snoring coming from the girl next to him, saving him from his anxious thoughts.

Y/N had fallen asleep; head tilted to the side, mouth hanging open a little. He breathed a sigh of relief as it would make it easier to just get her settled down in bed and leave her be for the night knowing she was safe and asleep.

He parked as close to the door as he could get and got his apartment key out and ready so he could unlock it straight away. He tried as quietly and carefully as he could not to wake Y/N up as he lifted her out of the car and carried her into the thankfully quiet apartment.

Wendy and Stan had left early. Stan felt sick, so Kyle assumed they were already in bed as the apartment was dark and quiet.

He didn’t turn the light on, which meant he only very narrowly avoided walking into the couch as he made his way directly to his room. As carefully as he could, he laid her down on his bed. Just as he was about to stand up straight and leave, he saw her eyes open, watching him with curiosity.

“Where are you going?” She asked, hands reaching out to try and pull him back towards her. Her sleepy and drunken movements prevented her from getting a grip on his shirt so she couldn’t drag him onto the bed, which was probably for the best. “Come back to me.” She sounded so sweet and innocent as she pleaded, and Kyle almost broke, but he managed to hold on to his resolve as he straightened his back.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, diverting his gaze to look at anything else that would distract him. “Some water? Food?” 

“Stay with me?” She requested. That was what it took to break Kyle’s resolve.

“Let me find you some clothes first,” He sighed, trying to find something suitable in his dresser. “You can’t be comfortable in that. Even under the covers, you’ll freeze to death.” 

Looking through his shirts, he stopped on one and considered it for a second. Holding it up, he decided to go ahead with it and let her wear his favourite t-shirt. It was the t-shirt he had been gifted by his coach after winning the last basketball game of the season, with his name and number on it. He felt a little selfish, wanting to see her wearing his name and number, but convinced himself it meant nothing. It was just a t-shirt, nothing more. He grabbed a pair of shorts as well and passed them to her.

Y/N held the clothes out, her hand tracing Kyle’s name as she thought about something.

“I don’t think… I can get this dress off by myself,” She mumbled, looking down at her body. The dress was so skin tight Kyle wondered how long it had taken to get on in the first place. He considered suggesting that he closed his eyes and they got it over and done with quickly, but her next words put a stop to that immediately. “I don’t have underwear on.”

He was at a complete loss as to what to do. That was when a saving grace came in the form of Wendy getting up to go to the bathroom.

“Hold on,” He instructed Y/N. He opened his door and slipped into the hallway, quickly grabbing Wendy as she walked past his room. “Wendy?”

“Holy shit, Kyle!” Wendy gasped, clutching her hand to her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “You almost scared me to death!”

“I’m really sorry, but I need your help,” He sighed, looking back at his open door. “Y/N can’t sleep in that costume, but she can’t get it off, and I don’t think I should be the one to help her, especially since she’s not wearing underwear, and-.”

“Stay out here,” With no hesitation; Wendy pushed past to help her friend. She had done the same in return for her. It wasn’t a big deal. 

After five excruciatingly long minutes, Wendy opened the door again. Kyle had gone to get Y/N some water and aspirin for the next morning that he would leave on the bedside table for when she woke up.

“Is she okay?” Kyle asked immediately, looking over her shoulder at the slightly ajar door.

“She’s fine, but I’m going to murder Bebe and Clyde for getting her that drunk,” She mumbled, shaking her head in disappointment. “You shouldn’t keep her waiting, or she’ll get up to find you. She asked where you were the entire time. I could barely get a word in edgeways.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else before returning to his room, finding Y/N curled up under the covers, only her head peeking out from them. Even with smeared makeup, she looked adorable.

“Kyle!” Her voice was full of pure joy when she said his name, and it made his heart ache. He thought he was selfish for committing it to memory, but he couldn’t help himself. No one had ever sounded so sweet saying his name. “Come here, it’s cold, and you promised me a hug.”

“Hold on. You shouldn’t sleep in that makeup,” As fast as he could, he rushed to the bathroom and grabbed some of Wendy’s makeup wipes, hoping she wouldn’t mind. He returned and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Close your eyes.” She did as instructed, and Kyle wiped her makeup off as gently as possible. She leaned into every touch with a happy little hum that he couldn’t help but smile at. Once done, he tried to stand up, but she had grabbed the back of his shirt.

“Hug now?” She asked. He couldn’t say no to that. With a heavy sigh, he threw the wipes into the trash can from where he was. After that, he turned and settled down on the bed next to Y/N. Her arms immediately wrapped around him in a hug which he, remembering his promise, returned.

Kyle woke up to the sound of music drifting in from the kitchen, unsure of when he had fallen asleep. He looked around to see that Y/N’s costume from the Halloween party was still in the corner, but she was missing from the bed. He realised he was still wearing his own costume from the night before. He had been so focused on making sure she was comfortable that he had forgotten his own comfort.

Looking to the side, he saw that the water and aspirin he had left on the bedside table for her were gone, so that was a good sign that she had woken up well enough to know she needed to take them.

With a yawn and stretch, he got up to investigate the noise, but not before making his bed as he always did first thing. As suspected, it was coming from the kitchen. Stan stopped him just at the entrance, where he had been watching what was happening inside.

“You’ll get dragged into this and forced to sing with them if you’re not careful, trust me,” He warned, pointing at the source of the commotion. Kyle watched as Y/N and Wendy danced around the kitchen, loudly singing along to ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’ while they made what appeared to be pancakes for breakfast. “Just wait until they get on the chairs and start singing Celine Dion. It really is a sight to see.”

“Do they do this often?” Kyle asked, smiling as the two girls had the time of their lives. Y/N had a spoon raised to her face, pretending to use it as a microphone. She looked like something straight out of a sappy rom-com, beautiful and completely carefree. 

“Often enough that they have a pancake playlist with all of their favourite songs to belt,” Stan nodded, laughing as he watched his Wendy flip her hair around wildly. She seemed happier and looser than usual when Y/N was around. Something about the two seemed to bring out the best in one another. “So, Y/N stayed the night?”

“It’s not like that!” Kyle shook his head, noticing the suggestive tone in Stan’s voice immediately. “She was really drunk at the party; I couldn’t find Bebe or Clyde to take her home, so I figured it was safer to bring her back here. Wendy got her dressed. Nothing happened.”

“I don’t know how she’s so energetic after drinking that much,” Stan looked on in disbelief as Y/N danced around without a care in the world, seemingly not a tiny bit hungover. “My head is pounding, and I only had like… three beers.”

“Dude, you had seven….” Kyle shook his head at his friend but soon smiled as he watched Y/N dance and spin around, grabbing Wendy’s hand to twirl her. “She’s definitely something special.”

“You’re so whipped, dude,” Stan laughed at his friend. “You’d better say something to her soon, or someone else will get there first. Kenny has asked me about her a few times.” 

“Kenny?” Kyle groaned. “God, I have no chance if-” His voice had increased enough in volume to catch the attention of the two girls. Fortunately for Kyle, they hadn’t caught any of the conversation. 

“Good morning Kyle!” Y/N gave him a dazzling grin when she spotted him lurking in the doorway next to Stan. She held her hand out, inching closer to him. “Come and dance with us!”

“Kyle has no rhythm,” Stan announced with a knowing smirk in his friend’s direction. It was a challenge, and Kyle knew that. “And the neighbours won’t let him sing anymore.”

“Dude!” Kyle groaned, pushing Stan to the side enough to make him wobble but not fall over. He really considered taking Y/N’s hand for a second but didn’t want to make a fool of himself. She was a professional dancer; he would look even worse next to her. “But it is probably best for everyone if I don’t. I really don’t have rhythm.”

“Suit yourself!” Y/N shrugged, turning back to Wendy and twirling her around. Stan gave Kyle a disappointed look that told him he had missed his chance, but Kyle did his best to shrug it off.

Y/N checked the frying pan and decided that the pancake in there was good to go, adding it to the growing pile. “Come on, you don’t have to dance, but you do have to help eat these before the leaning tower of pancakes falls.”

“Y/N, babe,” Wendy grabbed two plates and piled pancakes onto each. “Stan and I are going to eat in our room.” She walked past Kyle, leaving him confused as she gave him a wink. Had she heard the conversation between him and Stan after all?

“Gross!” Y/N called after the two as they disappeared hand in hand around the corner, turning back to Kyle with a grin on her face. “I can’t see that your singing could be any worse for the neighbours than when those two go at it.” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” He laughed, feeling slightly nervous. She put the spatula she had been holding down and held her hand back out to him, stepping even closer than before.

“You say you have no rhythm…” She took his hand before he gave it to her, pulling him towards her. His feet moved on autopilot. “But maybe you just need someone to take the lead?” Kyle couldn’t will his mouth to move with a response, nor could he trust the rest of his body to do anything more than allow Y/N to drag him around the kitchen, swaying to the music. When she started gently humming along, resting her head against his chest, he was convinced he was dreaming. There was something so ethereal about the situation.

It would have been the perfect opportunity to confess his feelings to her had he been able to put them into words. They had sprung on faster than he could truly register them. All he knew was that he had never felt the way he did about Y/N about anyone else. He wanted to be around her as much as possible; when he was away from her, he thought of her, it felt borderline obsessive, but he couldn’t stop. She was on his mind almost all of the time.

All too soon, the song ended, and she pulled away from him. “See,” She looked up at him with a small twinkle in her eyes. “You’re not a bad dancer.”

“Well,” Kyle had to clear his throat as his voice came out slightly hoarse from how dry his throat suddenly felt. “I didn’t really do anything. I just let you do all of the hard work.”

“Sometimes a good dancer is one who just knows when it’s time to let their partner take the lead,” She turned back to the kitchen counters to make the last few pancakes with the remaining batter. Kyle was speechless. He couldn’t think of any words worthy of saying to her in response. She deserved the best, and anything else would be a waste of her valuable time.

“Kyle?” Y/N turned, and Kyle realised she had said something to him that he missed. 

“I’m so sorry. Could you repeat that?” He was worried she was upset with him, but her soft smile was enough to say that she wasn’t. 

“I asked if you know if you have any lemon juice?” She asked, motioning over at the sugar on the side. “I like my pancakes a little sweet and sour.”

“Oh! Yeah!” He leaned forward, placing a hand on the counter next to Y/N and reaching over into the cupboard above her to retrieve the lemon juice. He hadn’t realised he had essentially just pinned her against the counter until he looked down to pass the lemon juice to her to see the completely bewildered look on her face at the sudden close contact. “S-Sorry,” His cheeks had flushed pink in embarrassment, but it took him another second to remember that he needed to step away so she could move, but to his shock, she had a hand on his waist, preventing him from moving. Keeping him where he was, she took the bottle from his hand and tilted her head a little to the side in curiosity, smiling up at him.

“Thank you,” She whispered, only then letting go of his waist. He stumbled a little as he took a step back. He shivered as her hand traced along his lower back when she walked past him. “Come on, let’s not let the pancakes get any more cold than they probably already are.”

a/n - the comments you guys write really spur me on when writing, thank you so much 🥰

let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

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[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

FINDING YOU Chapter 5

Summary: You're in a relationship with Steve Rogers, but his best friend just always seems to be around!

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst really

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 5

You’d taken up running since leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.. It was strangely freeing in a way you’d never experienced before. Cardio was one of the worst parts about training when you’d joined the team. But now, ever since you’d gone through terrigenesis you’d noticed that the physical things in life just came a little bit easier. The burning in your lungs when you put one foot in front of the other no longer seemed to bother you, in fact, you’d found that you could use your abilities to push yourself. You could run faster and further, your stride longer and pace quicker than you’d ever managed before. 

Since you met Steve, the two of you had started running together. Not that you could keep up with the super soldier speed and endurance, but it had been fun to try. He hadn’t always run off without you, so many times, he would slow to a jog, giving you the opportunity to match his pace. These were the only times when you’d felt you were being pushed to your limits and the endorphins were exhilarating. When Steve was away, you’d carry on without him. The wind rushing across your face, through your air, your feet hitting the floor at a steady pace; it all made you feel free, leaving behind your problems for those quiet moments of escape. Or maybe you were just running away from your problems?

In the last few weeks, that’s exactly what you’d been doing. Pounding the pavements every morning before work, trying to run away from the grief, the anger, the soul crushing loneliness following Peggy’s return. You tried to spend as little time in your apartment as possible, the thought of bumping into the newly reunited couple was terrifying. So you ran.

Prospect Park was practically on your doorstep, an easy 3 miles, through Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch, past the beautiful boathouse, through Quaker cemetery. It was your place to escape. But for some reason, today your run felt different. Something made you feel uncomfortable. The tiny hairs on the back of your neck were standing on end and your breath came faster than expected. Why did you feel like you were being followed?

You kept running, surreptitiously glancing around for someone who looked suspicious. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle yourself in an altercation, but the unknown was always slightly unnerving. Glancing around again, you saw nothing, but you picked up the pace, just to be safe. The next day, you felt apprehensive about going out again, but you told yourself the worst that could happen is that you got to kick some perv’s ass, and with that you went about your daily routine. The days turned into weeks, and your feeling of being followed didn’t quite leave you, but you learnt to suppress it and kept running.

It was late April and you had had a late Friday night helping one of your students through a tough time. Even the rising sun had struggled to coax you out of bed and when you did eventually rise, you felt sluggish at best. You dragged your feet down to Prospect Park where you started your morning ritual with a slow jog. You'd barely covered half a mile, reaching the Endale Arch when you spotted a familiar figure.

"Bucky?" you called out. 

The supersoldier spun around at the sound of his name.

"What are you doing here?" you demanded, unsure of why you suddenly felt so angry.

"Walking," he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant but very much had the air of someone who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Then everything seemed to click. "It's you!"

"Yes, it is." Bucky smirked.

You started walking away from him, infuriated. "You're the one who's been following me!"

Bucky strolled casually behind you, catching up with little effort. "I don't know what you mean."

"You just happened to be here when I am?"

“Why would I be following you?”

That question stumped you a little. He had a point. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe Steve had sent him to keep an eye on you. Your inner mind laughed derisively at this thought, Steve had moved on, he didn't have time to organize a tail for you.

Bucky noticed the change in your features as the dark cloud over your head grew larger.

"Do you come out here often?"

“Oh we’re going to keep up this charade, huh? Ok, fine, I’ll bite. Yes, I come here often.” You rolled your eyes in irritation.

Bucky decided to drop his pretense. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with a glare on your face. You ignored the voice in your head which was telling you to punch him. “So why are you following me?”

“It’s not safe-”

“Seriously?”

“Dr Raynor suggested that I get some exercise, that it would be good-”

“Wow, you’re a terrible liar.”

“How are you doing?”

The 180 degree turn in the conversation caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Peggy.”

You stopped walking from pure shock. Was Bucky Barnes showing real concern for you? 

“Why do you even care?” 

“I-” Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times before continuing his sentence. “I was worried about you.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you never talk to me, you barely sit in the same room with me for more than five minutes.”

“Dr Raynor suggested I have more friends.”

“And Steve is too busy for you now?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm but you suspected there was a little truth to your words when Bucky’s smile faded slightly. “Sorry.”

Bucky started walking again and you followed.

“I know I didn’t make it easy for you and Steve. Always being around.”

“I’m sorry for being a dick about it.”

“You weren’t. You’re allowed to want to spend time with-”

“Not my boyfriend anymore.” You finished for him.

It was a dismal topic of conversation. You didn’t come to the park every morning to dwell on the pain of your loss, or to ruminate on your insecurities. Bucky didn’t offer up much more conversation after that, but the two of you walked the entire circuit of the park in silence.

As you reached the Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch, you lingered for a moment, before Bucky turned to make his way home.

“Hey Barnes, you leaving without saying goodbye?”

He turned back, smiling and you could see why he had been quite the lady’s man back in the 40’s. 

“If you’re serious about the friend thing. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, zero six hundred hours.”

“What?”

“Don’t be late!” you called over your shoulder as you jogged off in the other direction, not giving him any time to refuse.

Bucky was punctual. You hadn’t expected any less. He was a lot like his best friend. You sighed, you didn’t want to think about Steve. But how could you not? He consumed your every waking moment and many of your dreams too. You’d planned your day with a very specific aim in mind.

Many moons ago, you and Steve had talked about things you wanted to do together, that you would both enjoy. One of those things was a trip to the Catskills Mountains. You’d had time to reflect over the last few months since Peggy’s return and if you didn’t do any of the things you’d planned to do with Steve, you’d never have any fun ever again. You’d picked Sam’s Point in Minnewaska State Park and invited Sam to come with you. Unfortunately for you Sam had bailed on you last minute by way of accepting a mission specifically for the Falcon. That wasn’t going to stop you, you’d do it alone. It was something you needed to get used to, you thought, it felt like you would be alone for the rest of your life.

Bucky followed you to your car, wordlessly. He was dressed in an aquamarine henley, dark jeans and gray jacket. His footwear was suitable for what you had in mind, so you remained as silent as him. Soon you were merging onto the NY-27 to take you into Manhattan. It was only when you were driving across the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey that he felt the need to ask about your destination.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“He speaks.”

“Ha ha.”

“Minnewaska State Park. It’s going to be a couple of hours before we get there.”

“And you assumed I’d be fine with this?”

“You got in the car.”

“What if I don’t want to go?”

“I can pull over?” you glanced over at him. “Want me to pull over?”

“In New Jersey?” he asked, voice filled with disdain.

You couldn’t tell from his expression or tone if he was joking or not. Either way, you kept driving and he fell silent again.

You were surprised to find that Bucky didn’t make you uncomfortable. In fact you found his quiet presence to be quite the opposite, almost consoling. As confident as you’d felt when you had planned this trip on your own, as the date crept close, your resolve lessened. You’d been on the verge of calling the whole thing off when you’d run into Bucky. 

As comfortable as the silence was, another two hours of silence wasn't on your cards. So you turned on the radio. 

“I'm sorry, Steve listens to this?” 

You scoffed, “no!”

“But you like this?” he questioned.

“Yeah, is there a problem?”

“No.”

"Sort of sounds like there is."

"No. It's good."

"Wow, Sergeant Barnes actually likes something!” you laughed.

He didn't answer you, distracted by the large national park sign you’d just passed and the change in scenery. Bucky sat back in silence soaking up the breathtaking beauty around you. It wasn’t long before you’d pulled up the car and unpacked your bag and slung it across your shoulders. You jerked your head to one side indicating for Bucky to follow you.

“We’re going up to Sam’s Point. It’s supposed to have some good views.”

“Lead the way,” he motioned for you to walk ahead.

He didn’t speak. Not that you minded, you were too busy taking in the openness of the space around you. It was so different from Brooklyn and even though you spent a lot of time in Prospect Park, you could hear the traffic noises not far off. But here, you felt a calm that you didn’t feel in the city. 

Even Bucky looked more relaxed, his shoulders didn't seem as tense. You wanted to know if he liked it.

"What?" he asked when he saw you looking in his direction.

"Nothing." You suddenly felt flustered by being caught staring.

“You’re staring.”

“What makes you say that?” you tried to feign innocence.

“I’m sort of an expert in the sport.”

“I won’t deny that.”

“Well?”

“Well, I was wondering if you were…. I’d use the phrase ‘having fun’ for others, but I’m not sure it applies to you.

“You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

“I think you haven’t done it in a long time.”

Bucky sighed. You weren’t wrong.

“It’s peaceful here. So, yes I like it here.”

There were times when the blue eyed man looked at you when you felt like he could read your mind and it was a little frightening. So you decided to keep going.

After ninety minutes of hiking, you sat down on the ground, sweating slightly, your stomach rumbling. You pulled a sandwich out of your pack. Bucky sat down beside you, eyeing the slices of bread in your hand. You could feel his eyes on you, but you wanted to make him work a little harder on his communication skills.

"You know, it's not polite to stuff your face in front of people who are also hungry.”

"It's not polite to treat people like they are invisible but you manage that pretty well."

Bucky huffed at you.

"Here," you pulled out another sandwich and tossed it at him."

His serum enhanced reflexes enabled him to catch the package with ease. He smirked at you.

“Thanks for sharing.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“That one’s yours. I don’t eat meat.”

Bucky pried apart the bread to peer at the contents of the sandwich. “How did you know that I’d like this?”

“How do you know you like it? You haven’t even tried it?”

“Why are you being so abrasive?”

“Oh you’re one to talk, Mr ‘I’m too good to speak to you’.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and took a bite of his sandwich. His eyes closed slightly as he savored the taste.

“Is this aioli?”

“Yeah.”

“My ma used to put this on our burgers when we were kids,” he smiled. “It wasn’t as good as this but…”

“I’m glad you like it. I hoped you would.”

“Thank you,” Bucky munched the rest of his meal in silence and you wondered if you would ever get used to his silences.

“So, why did you think I’d like this?”

You’d gone to the store the previous evening to specifically buy something for Bucky. You explained to Bucky how you’d noticed that there was always a packet of the sliced beef in Steve’s fridge, but you’d never seen Steve eating it himself.

“Yeah, I don’t think Steve has ever gone back to eating the stuff since-” Bucky didn’t finish his sentence, too busy chuckling at his own memory.

“Since?” you prompted.

“When we were kids, I dragged Steve to Coney Island. I’d always wanted to go but my dad was always away at Camp Lehigh and Ma would never let me go alone. She only let me go after I met Steve. Because he was ‘responsible’.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “I was older and bigger, I can’t believe she thought Steve was the responsible one.

His tone made you laugh. “Not surprising.”

“So we went.”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because out of the two of you, you seem like the trouble maker.”

“You say this knowing that Steve was the one who let a German scientist experiment on him just so he could get into the army?”

“I stand by my original statement.” You pointed at Bucky, “troublemaker.”

Bucky sighed but continued his story. “Well we didn’t have much, so Steve’s mom made us sandwiches to take with us.” He held up the wrapping that was still in his hands and you knew that Sarah Rogers had given them the same contents.

“Well all I wanted back then was cotton candy. So Steve had his and my sandwich. Of course, after that I insisted that we go on the Cyclone. It was the only reason I had wanted to go there anyway.”

You groaned. “This story does not have a good ending.”

“No, he definitely didn’t enjoy the Cyclone and Steve definitely threw up those sandwiches.”

“Thanks for telling that story while I’m still eating.”

“My pleasure. He hasn’t eaten them since.”

You sighed, lost in your thoughts of Steve as a young man, how he and his family had struggled. Captain America had been the only man you’d known but the man behind the shield was the one you loved and your soul ached with missing him.

Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up…”

“It’s alright. Steve is the only thing we have in common anyway. What else would we talk about?”

“I guess your taste in music isn’t completely terrible."

“You're incorrigible,” you rolled your eyes, getting up. “Come on, let’s get going so we can complete this trail before it gets dark.”

You bent down to pick up your bag, but Bucky was already on his feet, bag in his hands, loosening the straps to fit his broader shoulders. You smiled, maybe this wouldn’t be as bad you’d originally anticipated. Steve wasn’t so fond of him for no reason. You wanted to know what the fuss was about and you were determined to find out.

​

[callsign-bunnie]

Ghost stalking soap

Looking forward for part 3

@rodolfoparrasnumber1fan @aliebrokenwonderland143 @crieslikeafool AND ALSO 2 ANONS WHO ASKED FOR IT. Anyway, here's part 1 and here's part 2

Nsfw warning

--

Soap was ignoring Ghost. He was really upset. Every time he complimented Ghost or tried to get closer to him, he backed away. Wouldn't this be what Ghost wanted??

Whatever, Soap didn't care anymore. Ghost was just some weird ass creepy stalker and Soap didn't give a singular shit about him.

It was almost convincing.

Soap did ignore his texts, though. But... Soap caved around day 8 when Ghost called him. He really wanted to hear his voice. "Hello?" He pretended to be nonchallant, act like he didn't know who this was.

"Hello, Johnny."

"Who is this?" He lied, leaning back in his desk chair and huffing a little.

"Don't be like that. I've been texting you."

"Oh yeah, my stalker. I know I've been ignoring you." Soap rolled his eyes. "You hung up again."

"I panicked."

"Yeah, cuz I said I liked your eyes."

"Like I said. You make me so fucking nervous."

Soap snorted. "But not nervous enough to not stalk me?"

"I'd rather watch you from a distance."

"I don't want that though!" Soap snapped. He shook his head. "You're an asshole. You made me want you and now you're just going to... what?? Keep denying me?"

There was silence on the line and Soap prepared for Ghost to hang up again, irritated. "Tell me what you want, Johnny."

"I want you." Soap relaxed.

More silence. "One day."

Soap hung up, this time.

-

Soap had gone back to ignoring Ghost. It wasn't fair that Ghost would do all of this stuff, make Soap like him, and then just keep treating Soap so unfairly.

So, it'd been weeks since he'd answered his texts. Any note ended up shredded and in the trash. All new gifts were tossed.

Soap could tell Ghost was getting almost desperate. The gifts ramped up in price, the notes were longer, more pleading. Soap donated the more expensive ones and just continued to ignore him.

Soap came back to writing on his mirror, this time. Huge, scrawled. It looked shaky. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO? The marker was under the mirror

It should have scared Soap. It should have shown him that Ghost was unstable. But... it excited him. Ghost was so desperate for Soap's attention. Soap's. No one else.

Soap smiled and then right under it in neat handwriting, wrote ME.

-

You drive me completely crazy.

Soap smiled at his phone, laying on his back. Where's the new camera?

I didn't put one.

Liar. Where is it?

The alarm clock.

The alarm clock that points directly at my bed? You really are a creep. Soap grinned. Can you see me right now?

Yes.

Soap stood and started to undress, being slow and careful with it.

What are you doing, Johnny?

Soap checked it but didn't answer. He just continued to pull his clothes off. Does it have sound?

Of course.

Soap grinned again and moved his pillows so he could prop himself up a little once he was undressed, settling on them. He spread himself out, making sure he could be fully seen.

When he was settled, he made eye contact with the alarm clock and wrapped his hand around his own cock, slowly stroking it to attention. He imagined Ghost and bright blue eyes between his legs. He moaned, leaning his head back a little.

He kept his pace slow, wanting to drag it out. He wanted to put on a show.

It was exciting, doing this and knowing he was being watched. He continued to conjure images of Ghost. His body covering Soap's, his voice deep in his ear.

"Fuck- Ghost-" He moaned, stroking himself a little faster to the imagery.

Simon. Soap paused and frowned at the text on his phone.

What?

My name is Simon.

Soap grinned. Oh. He didn't want him moaning Ghost. He wanted to hear Simon. Soap had no problem obliging. Soap used the opportunity to get the lube out of his dresser, coating his fingers in it and then repositioning himself.

He went back to stroking himself but carefully started to push one of the fingers in, moaning. It was always easier to take when he did it himself, but he wanted the stretch. He wanted Ghost's thick fingers (they had to be thick, the man was huge) stretching him out.

Soap made a risky decision and just shoved a second finger in himself, bowing his hips a little off the bed and gasping "Simon" as he did so.

He imagined Ghost stroking himself to Soap. He had to be, or he wouldn't have corrected him. "I want you to fuck me so bad..." He moaned and fingered himself, making sure he stayed on full display.

The idea of Ghost moaning with that gorgeous voice, saying Soap's name, maybe thinking of himself inside Soap drove him crazy. He was desperate for Ghost and it wasn't fair he had to settle with images in his own head.

Soap pressed in a third finger when he knew he was ready, moaning again. The pleasure wasn't enough and he knew what would be, but he was being denied.

Ghost could be so fucking cruel.

There was equal parts pleasure with frustration and Soap was losing his mind. He arched a little, pressing his fingers as deep as he could, and moaning Ghost's name again.

Soap stroked himself faster, getting desperate, and moved his fingers in time with his hand. He hoped this would be tempting enough to Ghost. That maybe he'd finally do something.

When he came, he cried Ghost's name, making sure it could be heard clear as day. He panted when he came home, disappointed in the feeling of not enough that it caused.

He closed his eyes and panted. He felt sticky.

When his phone buzzed, he quickly looked at it. You're a little fucking tease.

-

Soap had been... risky. He'd brought a random guy to his dorm. He wanted to push Ghost's buttons.

The sex was... not what Soap wanted, but he wanted to make Ghost jealous. He wanted to push Ghost into doing something. Anything.

When the guy had left, Soap waited, pretending like he wasn't.

His phone rang and he answered it, feigning innocence. "You're a tease."

"I don't know what you’re talking about." He grinned and stretched out, facing away from the alarm clock.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about."

"I have needs, Ghost. I have to get them fulfilled somewhere. You've made it clear you won't do it." Soap sighed, taunting him a little.

There was silence. "Tomorrow."

--

Jesus this is getting long. 

[ghoul-bonez]

~Stars in Her Eyes, Stars in Her Heart~

Chapter 3: She Will Never Take it Back

(Kiri x Fem! Avatar! Reader)

Summary: You had always loved the forest, loved to explore, so that’s exactly what Kiri allowed you to do for your first lesson.

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: First like *real* chapter I guess, not setting stuff up and ✨action✨ also very early upload :)

Last - Next

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

She Will Never Take it Back

Although you hadn’t agreed on a meeting place, Kiri knew exactly where to find you, near the nantang pups. They frolicked around you once again, but today instead of being focused on them you were focused on the forest around you.

Your ears flicked in the direction of every little noise as you looked around for Kiri, and once Kiri was close enough your ears flitted in her direction, followed by your head swiveling towards her as well.

Kiri just smiled. You were so observant, that would help Kiri in her teaching. You already had the hang of being aware of her surroundings, and as Kiri stepped in front of you a smile was on both of your faces.

Kiri skipped out on any formalities asking right away, “Are you ready for today?”

You leaned back, looking to the sky and shrugging your shoulders, “That depends on what you have planned.”

Kiri giggled, “Today will be easy. Today you will be learning about the forest, however you want.”

She had decided to allow you to explore today, to fall in love with the forest Kiri adored so much. The forest was like a mother to Kiri, raising her and teaching her how to be strong, and she wanted to show you that love.

Something inside of her told her, “Let her give her love, for she will never take it back.” and Kiri hoped that it was true. That you would fall in love with the forest and never want to leave. Never change your mind.

You looked confused, shaking your head to somewhat clear your mind, “So what? Do I just walk around?”

Kiri nodded her head, “Yes, and ask questions. I can answer anything you can ask about the forest. Ask for Na’vi names. Ask what the plants and animals are used for. Ask what their significance to The People are.”

You hummed, nodding your head, “Alright. Let's get going then.”

And so your day began. You walked around for hours, exploring the world around you. You asked questions every now and then, but most of the time you just took it all in, stars gleaming in your eyes as a sense of wonder washed over you.

You had never felt this way about anything before. You felt peaceful in the forest, like you had lived there for your whole life. It felt like the forest had accepted you wholeheartedly, like you were never meant to be anywhere else.

You may not know as much about the forest, but you knew silence was weird in the forest, dangerous, and most of the time by the time you had noticed silence had fallen it would be too late. You, however, had noticed the lack of noise immediately, the usual hum of background noise abruptly stopped. The silence was deafening and an unsettled feeling rooted itself into your chest, weaving around your heart and squeezing like killer vines on a tree.

“Kiri, something is wrong.” You whispered, trying to stay quiet.

Kiri almost ran into you when you abruptly stopped walking, “What do you mean, I don’t-”

Snap. Loud. A twig, or maybe even a branch. It sounded out across the forest, Kiri quickly going silent afterwards. She crouched low, sniffing the air, and looking around them. Her ears twitched in every direction, finding no other sounds.

Then out of the silence, from the lower branches of a tree dropped a thanator.

Kiri wasted no time, grabbing your hand in hers, dragging you behind her as she ran in the opposite direction from the beast, “Run!” She shouted at you.

Running was not your favorite activity, but being in your avatar body made it a lot easier. You were faster, more agile, more equipped for the terrain. So you ran as fast as you could next to Kiri, keeping up with her although it was hard. Kiri had a whole lifetime of practice running through the forest, and you had maybe had a few hours of practice, preferring to walk places at a leisurely pace.

You kept up though, running purely off of fear and adrenaline. You had heard of thanators, how only one person had ever survived an attack, and that was because he outsmarted the creature. Hopefully you or Kiri was that smart, that lucky.

Kiri seemed to know what she was doing though and she quickly found a hollowed out tree, climbing up the inside, expecting you to follow. Kiri was an experienced climber, and your only experience was one or two sad trees back on earth as a child.

Kiri was determined though. She tugged you up, following her cautiously, placing your hands and feet where Kiri had before you, and soon enough you were both on a branch high up.

You had seemingly lost the thanator, but Kiri quickly pulled you against her, one hand wrapped around your stomach to hold you still and the other was placed over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your harsh breathing. In and out, in and out. A scream was creeping up your throat, but you kept it at bay, staying as quiet as possible.

Kiri was muttering something behind you, a prayer of some sort judging by the use of Eywa’s name. You barely heard it through the thrumming of your heartbeat in her ears. Once Kiri was done she didn’t release you yet, still holding you closely, hand still over your mouth.

Kiri breathed behind you, steady deep breaths, and you tried your best to match them. In and out, slowly, calmly. It was hard to follow her, to steady yourself, with the adrenaline forging through you, but eventually you calmed, slumping back against Kiri.

Kiri removed her hand from over your mouth, slowly, after she was confident the thanator had lost their trail. The arm around your waist never left though, you placing a hand over Kiri’s. Kiri’s skin was smooth and soft, but as you touched it felt like touching the sun, scorching hot and dangerous. Even with the danger you wanted more.

Once you had calmed down enough to speak you said, “Holy shit! Those things are bigger than I thought, and more terrifying. A thanator right?”

Kiri took in one final deep breath, letting go of you, who turned to look at her. Kiri’s eyes were wide, her ears still twitching every way possible, assessing whether they would have to run for their lives again. She looked frightened, like a cornered animal.

Kiri placed a hand on her chest to feel her heart beating, to make sure she was still alive, “I believe so. The Na’vi name is palulukan.”

You unconsciously copied her, your heart beating steadily in your chest. Quickly from the rush, but steadily. You were still alive.

You spoke quietly, reaching out and holding Kiri’s shoulders, “Are you okay?” you asked.

Kiri responded quickly, “Yes.” she paused, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, “Mhm, I think that's enough excitement for today though. It’s getting dark, and I should really start heading back to my lab.”

Kiri looked up to the sky, it was getting darker. It will be eclipse soon. She couldn’t let you go without at least offering to go with you, “Can I walk you back?”

You shook your head, no, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

Kiri felt frustrated, what if the palulukan came back for them, for you, “But the palulukan is still out there somewhere.”

You shook your head again, but grabbed Kiri’s hand, squeezing it with yours, “Kiri, I will be fine. I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kiri didn’t want this to turn into an argument, and she knew tawtutes could be stubborn, so she let it go, “Okay…”

You just smiled at her, “Good night, Kiri.”

You let go of Kiri’s hand before climbing down the tree, walking off in the direction of where you had met, the nantang family must live near your base.

Kiri sat and watched as eclipse fell, wondering about you. Mostly she wondered what you looked like. Really looked like. Your human body. Seeing it would make everything too real.

Right now Kiri sees you as no threat, an avatar so enthralled by the forest you would never dare to harm it. An avatar, part Na’vi.

But all tawtutes are a threat, no matter how much they love the forest. Sky people are not Na’vi in the slightest. They are outsiders, aliens. They are dangerous.

Through Kiri’s worries she knew one thing, You were like the sun, and Kiri was like the planets orbiting you. You could never be separated because if you were, the life within Kiri would wither away. She couldn’t deny this, whether you were a tawtute or Na’vi, you were meant to be together.

Word Bank:

Nantang (Viperwolf)

Thanator (Largest predator in Pandora’s forests)

Eywa (Na’vi goddess)

Palulukan (Thanator)

Tawtute (Sky people)