#my brain is just going ‘that was weird. what if it was true?’ except I wish it wouldn’t do it with my best friend

[lcec0ldheart]

i like how as time goes on frost and citrine are gradually becoming more normal (ish, they’re still weirdos ofc) while violet stays weird because she’s just like that.

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Been having a ‘fall in love and have a relationship with someone other than my partner’ dreams a bunch recently and idk how to feel about it :/

[asbealthgn]

wrote this goofy thing as an expansion of this post

It’s very surprising when the door to Eddie’s trailer opens and Eddie is standing there with flowers.

It’s even more surprising when he says, “Happy one month!” with a big grin.

Steve looks back and forth between Eddie and the flowers—wildflowers by the look of them, probably picked around the edges of the trailer park. “Uh, one month of what?”

Eddie gives him an uncertain smile like he’s not sure if Steve’s being serious or not. “Of our relationship,” he says, the last syllable tilting up almost like a question.

Huh. Kind of weird, but at the start of summer Steve and Robin had an ice cream party to celebrate the year anniversary of when they started at Scoops together. So it’s not like this is completely unheard of. Except—

“You and I have been friends for longer than a month,” Steve says, “It’s been like—” he tries to count the months since spring break in his head “—at least four? Unless you don’t count when you were unconscious in the hospital, but that was only a couple weeks, so—”

“I mean one month of our relationship,” Eddie says, putting emphasis on the word. And now his eyebrows are drawn together. Face concerned. And Steve is clearly missing something here.

Did something significant happen a month ago? Some moment where they moved from friends to best friends or something? It was probably about a month or so ago the first time Steve spent the night at Eddie’s trailer, but that wasn’t a huge deal. Steve has spent the night at the Byers’ house before and it’s not like he and Jonathan are breaking out the balloons to commemorate it. 

Steve feels guilty, because clearly there’s something that Eddie thinks he should know that he doesn’t. He doesn’t like this nervous look on Eddie’s face. Steve tries to think like Nancy, tries to put the clues together. But he’s not Nancy. So he’s lost. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Steve says, “I don’t get what you mean.”

Eddie deflates.

“I know we haven’t necessarily defined it.” His voice is wavering, eyes getting watery. Shit shit shit, what did Steve do? This is so completely out of nowhere and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it. “But I didn’t realize it was actually that insignificant to you.”

Steve shoots his arm out to stop Eddie from closing the door on him. He needs to figure out what’s going on so he can make it right, and that’s not gonna happen if Eddie shuts him out. “Eds, seriously, you’re gonna have to fill me in,” he says, “‘Cause I honestly don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?” Eddie asks, anger over taking the sadness in his voice, “You’re gonna act like you don’t know?”

“I don’t!” Steve nearly shouts, desperate. “Please, man, I’m not trying to piss you off here. Whatever it is, I wanna make it right. You just have to tell me what you mean.”

“You and I,” Eddie says. Looking at him like it should be obvious. When it’s so, so not. It makes Steve want to scream. “We’re—I thought we were together.”

“Together? Like…together how?”

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie look this pissed off. “Use your goddamned brain, Harrington,” he spits, “Like together.���

Oh. Okay. That’s…something. It’s not that Steve would necessarily be opposed, or even that he hasn’t thought of it. It’s just not true. They’re not together. And he’s not sure why Eddie thinks they are. Yeah, they’re close, but it’s not like they’re closer than Steve and Robin. It’s not like they’re closer than Steve was to Tommy back in the day. He and Eddie haven’t done anything that feels outside the realm of friendship to him. And he definitely didn’t realize that Eddie saw it any differently.

“Um,” Steve says, aware that he’s standing like an idiot on Eddie’s doorstep and needs to answer. “Why?”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, making as if to close the door again. Steve barely catches it in time. It makes Eddie glare at him. “There’s no way you’re being serious,” he says.

Keeping one hand on the door, Steve throws up the other one in a gesture he stole from Robin. “I really am,” he says, “You know what the kids say. I’m an idiot. You really have to lay things out for me.”

That at least makes Eddie soften a few degrees. “You’re not an idiot, Steve,” he says, “You’re just—oblivious, apparently.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Eddie sighs. “Just come in. We can talk about it.” He steps back and lets Steve come inside. The flowers are still clutched in Eddie’s hand, starting to wilt. Eddie sets them on the table before joining Steve on the couch. 

“A month ago is when you stayed over for the first time,” Eddie says. Steve nods. “And you kissed me.” Steve nods again. Eddie lifts his eyebrows significantly. “You’re not seeing the connection?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, I guess there’s other ways you could construe that,” he says, “But I thought it was, like, a friend kiss. A goodnight kiss.”

“A friend kiss,” Eddie says flatly. “You kiss a lot of your friends?”

“Sure,” Steve says, “Well, Robin prefers forehead kisses and Jonathan’s more of a hug guy, but I used to kiss Tommy and Carol all the time.”

Disbelief is the main emotion on Eddie’s face. And a whole lot of other ones that Steve can’t quite parse out. “So—everything we’ve done,” Eddie says, slowly, like he’s trying to come to terms with it. “It’s all just…been normal friend shit to you?”

Steve thinks back over the last month, trying to think if anything stands out in his head as non-platonic. Maybe there’s been a time or two when he was kissing Eddie or cuddling up to him in bed or sitting on his lap during D&D where Steve’s felt a sort of stirring deep in his belly. But he figured that was one-sided. His body’s reaction to whatever was happening and not a manifestation of, like, feelings or something. After all, the same thing used to happen with Tommy when they’d do similar stuff. And clearly they were just friends.

After a full twenty seconds of Steve not answering, Eddie drops his head in his hands. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he lifts his head. “This—you—the other day. You slept over. We made out. You—you took my fucking shirt off, Steve.”

Yeah, that did happen. And Steve doesn’t have a great explanation for it. “I don’t know,” he says, “It was the heat of the moment or whatever.”

“The heat of the moment,” Eddie repeats, and Steve can’t tell if he’s on the verge of tears or the verge of laughing. Eddie puts his arm on the back of the couch and leans toward Steve. “Can you honestly say that you’re not attracted to me at all?”

Annoyingly, Steve can feel his face start to heat. “I never said that,” he mutters.

For the first time, Eddie looks triumphant. “So you are attracted to me?”

“Yeah, man,” Steve says, squirming uncomfortably. Of course he’s attracted to Eddie. What’s not to be attracted to? He’s smart, funny, hot, good with the kids, good on the guitar, good at kissing. Helped save the world. “You’re, like, it for me. I definitely think about you that way. I just didn’t think you thought about me that way.”

Eddie laughs, the sound containing more disbelief than humor, but still overall a good thing. “I can’t believe the guy who’s been sharing my bed for the past month didn’t think I was into him.”

“Hey, you’re not the only person whose bed I’ve shared.” Shit, that was a bad way to put it. “Platonically.”

Shaking his head, Eddie laughs again. “Clearly, your idea of platonic does not line up with mine,” he says. “But you mean it? You’re into me?”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says, “I’m into you.”

“So, does that mean you’d want to be my boyfriend?”

“Apparently I already have been for the past month,” Steve says, grinning.

Eddie grins back. “Doesn’t count if you didn’t know.”

“Then we can count from today,” Steve says, “Starting now, I’m your boyfriend.”

He hasn’t finished saying the last word before Eddie is surging forward and taking Steve’s face in his hands. He shifts onto Steve’s lap, kissing him deeply. 

And it doesn’t feel platonic at all.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

All Thanks to You - T.Nott

Summary - At first, Theo found her gifts sweet and kind but the longer they went on the more they annoyed him. He had the false assumption that she was chasing after his money and status but he was very wrong. He didn't realize how wrong he was until he overhears her sticking up for him in library.

Pairings - Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Use of Y/N, female reader, profanity, stress

Author's Note - I'm getting through all of my requests slowly but surely, this will probably be my first and last post of the day. I'll try my best to keep banging these out but unfortunately today was my last day of spring break and my vacation from work. Thank you for being patient!

Based off the request by an anon

Expect delays in my posting! My semester has started and I am taking 4 classes! Please be patient with me!

My requests are open!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

It was almost disgustingly obvious how much she liked Theo, except to the boy himself. It had taken him ages to figure it all out. He thought it was weird at first, he was always getting baked treats, a seat saved, books that he ended up loving and notes sent to him. Then, it started to annoy him, he thought that she was just trying to get to him because of his status and money. That of course wasn’t her intention but he didn’t figure that one out until he overheard a conversation, one revolving around him and all of his flaws and untrue rumors.

He was about to jump in himself until the sweet voice of the girl sending him all of these good things chimed in. 

“That’s not true at all. Theo is so kind and sweet. He cares so much about his friends and only acts cold to people like you because you believe and spread all of these bullshit lies. He’s not rude, he’s not unnerving, he especially isn’t ugly or gross to girls. He’s sweet and kind and loving and a great person and if you can’t see that, then don’t consider me your friend anymore,” She ranted before packing up her books and walking away, not expecting to bump into the boy himself. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Wait,” He pleaded, having every expectation of her walking away but she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, “Thank you for sticking up for me. I know I said your gifts were annoying but I don’t really think that. I honestly thought you were after me for money or to boost your status or something, I shouldn’t have assumed that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. You’re a good person Theo. I’d love to talk more but I really have to go study for the potions exam,” She told him.

“Study with me, I have an O in the class, I can help you.” The smile on her face brightened the room, making his heart skip a beat, a smile finding its way onto his own lips.

“Okay! I know the best spot in the library,” She chirped, grabbing his hand and leading him to the top floor into a quiet corner. The two of them studied together for nearly an hour before she spoke again, “How in the fuck do you make a draught of the living dead again? I can’t remember anything right now, my brain is fried,” She groaned, resting her forehead on crossed arms.

“You need a break, love. Let’s go to the kitchen and get some food from the house elves,” Theo offered.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“No, I’m friends with the prefects on duty, let’s go before they change shifts.”

The whole way down to the kitchen, the two were holding hands, neither of them had even noticed until Draco stopped them in the stairwell leading down to their destination. “What do we have here? The infamous Theodore Nott holding hands with his admirer?”

“Oh shove off, we need you to cover the kitchen while we get food,” Theo told his friend, still holding onto her hand even though they were caught.

“What’s in it for me?” Draco asked.

Before Theo could open his mouth, Y/N answered, “Pumpkin pasties, green apples and cauldron cakes. I see you eating those a lot so I assume you like them?”

“You assume correctly, fine, let’s go lovebirds.”

Holding up her end of the promise, she got Draco his favorite sweets, snacking with the two Slytherin boys. The blond boy had taken a liking to her, finding her genuine, funny and observational. The bond between Theo and Y/N had grown and only got stronger by the day. It was no surprise to any of their friends when they started dating not long after studying together. 

They continued to have study dates until the day of the Potions exam. She was extremely nervous and Theo was nervous for her. They didn’t get to see each other until dinner that day. Taking her usual spot next to Theo at the Slytherin table, casually sliding a paper to him. He furrowed his eyebrows before opening the paper, the red ink stared him right in the face.

“You got an O?! Bellissima, that's amazing! I’m so proud of you!” Theo exclaimed as he hugged her tightly, placing kisses on her head.

“All thanks to you, handsome,” She smiled at him.

Theo kissed her deeply on her lips causing groans and gags around them. Neither of them having a care in the world other than her O.

[ellecdc]

hear me out - a remus fic but set in come back be here, like maybe a muggle and remus is instantly smitten but has no idea how to navigate but everyone is pushing for him to actually go for it and it’s just chaos but in the best way possible… regardless come back be here was AMAZING

CBBH Remus x muggle!barista gn!reader

(Pretend they have phones for this okay? Thank you lol)

CW: just fluff, swearing, self deprecation, making a fool of oneself - you know, the remus lupin special

Remus would describe himself as many things.

He was a wizard. He was a werewolf. He was a business owner. He was an uncle. He was a friend. He was a war hero.

He was also, apparently, a coward.

He knows this to be true because he’s sat in the same spot that he’s been haunting all week – a chair in the far back corner of the café – pretending to look over ledgers in his notebook while he actually watches you work.

It’s fucking pathetic, is what it was.

He watched as you smiled politely at every customer in line – even the ones who weren’t as polite to you as Remus thought they ought to be.

He felt silly, really, watching you like a creep. He shouldn’t be here to begin with. He had stumbled upon this café completely by accident two weeks ago whilst in the city to pick up more muggle literature to add to his bookstore on Diagon Alley.

It was here he saw you, as if you were a siren calling him to this sodding caffeinated inlet to damn him to hell.

What a willing victim he was. 

But he shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t get caught up with you. It was unthinkable. Most witches and wizards would have a hard time coming to terms with someone like, well, someone like him. 

He was a burden. A risk.

It was selfish to think he could entertain the thought of you.

Suddenly, as if she’d known he was talking poorly of himself, his phone buzzed.

Remus tried to steal himself as he took a deep breath. 

Right Lupin, you’ve done scarier things before. He thought to himself. You’ve run with wolves, you’ve gone undercover into enemy bases, you’ve deceived the dark lord right in front of his slimy fucking face, and you’ve even told Sirius once you thought his hair looked weird. By all means, you can talk to a barista.

Except...well...he really kind of couldn’t talk to a barista. He had made it all the way to the counter, even smiled politely at you as he stepped up to the cash register and...

And then words left him. Failed him. Completely abandoned him. He even thinks there may be a little stickie note in his brain that says ‘resignation effective immediately’ where words should be because he’s staring right at you with your gorgeous eyes and lovely hair and perfect features and for fuck sakes why isn’t he saying anything!?!?!

“Is there something I can get for you?” You asked so sweetly like this bloke wasn’t standing with his mouth agape at your cash register making a sure and utter fool of himself; like you had all the time in the world for the poor bastard.

“Uhm, uh...” He tried finally as if only now realizing he had functioning vocal chords. 

“Uhm, fuck, I’m so sorry uhm...”

You chuckled at him. Holy shit you chuckled at him. It was the most beautiful sound Remus thinks he may have ever heard. He hoped you’d do it again, though, at the rate he’s going it was really very likely. 

“I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not usually like this. Uh,” He apologized awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I think you’re lovely and would, uh, like to get to know you. You don’t have to say anything now!” He interrupted as you began to interject. “In fact, for my pride's sake, I’d prefer if you didn’t. But I’d like to leave my number here for you, in case you’d like to text me some time.” 

He offered you the kindest smile he could muster as you took the now crumpled and sort-of-damp-from-his-sweaty-palms note in your hand with a smile of your own.

Now, Remus wouldn’t say he ran out of the café, per se. He would describe it as more of a jaunt, or perhaps a brisk walk. But he did nearly take out a woman with a pram as he all but flung the door open in his haste to get away. 

You stupid ridiculous bastard. He scolded himself as he made his way to the closest apparition point. If Sirius could see you know, you’d never hear the end of it.

His phone buzzed and Remus nearly dropped it in his haste thinking it might be Sirius having somehow actually seen what just took place.

Then he nearly dropped it again as he saw a new text from an unknown number.

Perhaps Remus wasn’t such a coward after all.

[ezelium]

I'LL BE ON MY BEST BEHAVIOUR : Boothill

CONTENT : realizing boothill can't feel on his metal plates.

WARNINGS : gn!reader, fluff, written before boothills release idk, reader is in a 😒 mood

WORD COUNT : 0.6k !

A / N : i read somewhere boothill doesn't feel anything on anywhere else except his face because he doesn't have skin to sense things there and this makes great fluff sauce so i couldn't resist.. "But don't you only write for bsd?" shhSHUSH SHUSH!!

Boothill, a mechanical robot.

One that drifts among the stars. One that you held close to your heart. You didn't meet him long ago, in fact, it was only a while ago. He was unhinged and "weird", sure.. but who could deny such a silly man from being their friend?

As far as you knew, he wasn't doing anything wrong. Nor that he thought he did. Him being impertinent wasn't bothering you, not at all. Everybody had flaws, imperfections, problems. Did that stop people from loving them? No, absolutely not. Why should he be treated differently? In fact — He should be treated specially to learn how to act more "human".

Or maybe that's just how you thought, you had hopes for him, hoped he would somewhat grow human-like feelings.

You knew he doesn't exactly 'feel", but physical touch could help him. You knew that, because whenever you caressed his cheek, he would laugh and process it. That or he'd smile and be softer for a brief minute. It was an amazing sight, really, perhaps that was one step closer him being "more human" emotion-wise.

Laying by your side was something he'd do occasionally, out of boredom or when he had nothing else to do. Getting new plates, new wires weren't exciting at all. He'd prefer to stay by your side, thank you very much. You slowly kicked your feet in the air while laying on your stomach, reading a book that you've already read a billion times. But what could you do? The plot was interesting, and you were a big fan of the author.

And now, you finished it for the zillionth time. Closing the book, you got up from the couch lazily, blinking a few times after that reading session to come to your senses. A soft sigh left your lips as you stretched for good - it was amazing, it almost felt like your brain just reset.

One thing you didn't expect though, was to find Boothill seated across the same couch with his back turned to you. He wasn't moving or anything. Eh, oh well, why not talk to him.. But you didn't want to say anything just yet. Your almost feet started moving on their own, approaching the cyborg without much care.

You didn't make any sounds whatsoever. Odd, that he didn't notice you getting up. With shallow breaths, you snaked your arm around his torso, still not saying anything while you silently hugged him from behind.

You sat there for like 3 minutes, but then you called out:

"Boothill?" you rasped out, tightening your hug even further, as much as you could. The metal was kind of hard to wrap your arms around, but you didn't bother letting go.

"[Name], ha?!" He exclaimed, looking very startled now. He even flinched, what a goofy man. "You got up, sweetums!" He added, a grin creeping up on his face, making his fangs and sharp teeth glow like a fresh pearl.

"I got up a few minutes ago. And hugged you." You replied, blinking with a slightly cocked eyebrow, looking sleepy. Speaking of sleep, it seemed that you had a fatigue today but that was off-topic..

"I- Didn't notice it. How senseless and idiotic of me. But— That just makes me cuter, doesn't it?! Ha?" He turned around off-puttingly, and that did NOT go well with your current judgy attitude. Giving him a stink eye, you pulled away.

"So you don't have sensors on these bad boys?" You asked, hand going over the silver lining on his body. He didn't even react to it, and gave a loopy chuckle, before nodding. "Should I get some sensors on them?"

"Wouldn't that make it hurt more when you get injured though?"

"True.."

edit : i noticed far too late that i forgot to add the end notes GOODNIGHT.. but anyway sorry if this is inaccurate in the future idk!

© ezelium 2024 ⭑ I do not consent to my work being plagiarized, translated or reposted without permission. Doing so is theft.

[fiapartridge]

gabe perreault imagine please 🙏🙏

long time coming | gabe perreault 💌🌊⭐️

gabe perreault x fem!reader

summary: you're sick and the only person who can cure you is your best friend, gabe!

warning(s): fluff, fluff, fluff

author's note: eee this is my first gabe fic! thank u anon for suggesting him, i was in a huge writers slump so ty ty ty! enjoy!

You had heard stories of people falling in love with their best friend; it happened to your parents, your older sister and her boyfriend, all of your cousins, but to you, love just felt unattainable, like maybe you were the exception. The love bug skipped a generation and was already preparing for the next—but now? Now you felt it. You felt it crawl underneath your skin and bubble in your stomach. You felt your chest tighten and the heat rise to your cheeks. 

You were in love, true love.

“Gabe,” you groaned over the phone, his breathing sounding staticy over the line. You had been sick for a few days, only a slight cough and an itchy throat, but today felt 10 times worse. Your stomach was aching, your head felt like it was getting hit by a basketball every couple of seconds, and you sniffled so frequently you were sure that something was going to go up the wrong pipe and straight up to your brain. 

And you felt bad, not only because of your illness, but because it was nearly 2 AM and you could hear Gabe shuffle underneath his dark blue sheets in the dorm he shared with his best friend, Will Smith. You knew it was late and this was wrong. I mean, the boy had a game against Boston University in the morning, now was not the time to wake him, but you just didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were dying and all you needed was one of Gabe’s famous hugs and maybe a back rub (he was really good at those).

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake the snoring Will on the other side of the room. His eyes were fighting to stay open, determined not to lean onto his fluffy white pillow and fall back to sleep. “You okay?”

You sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the box that laid beside your bed. “I feel like I’m dying,” you responded, your voice sounding congested and nasally—not in the slightest like your normal tone.

You could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. Then, you could hear keys jangling and his closet door opening, a hoodie getting thrown over his body, and then the door to his dorm being pulled open. You wanted to protest because you knew what he was doing, where he was going, but you had no energy to speak. Instead, your stubborn voice turned to loud coughs that made Gabe want to pull you in his arms and hold you until they faded into oblivion.

But he couldn’t. It was too much for you. It would be weird. You wouldn’t feel the same. It was the exact same thing he’s been telling himself for months (really what he’s been telling himself since the moment he met you). It would ruin your guys’ friendship and you will never want to speak to him again. If only he could hear your thoughts because then, maybe he’d be thinking differently, and it wouldn’t be so hard.

Three soft knocks on the door of your dorm signaled exactly what you suspected would happen. Gabe was your best friend and if he caught the flu, you would be there holding his hand and making him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. If you were crying about a failed test, he would buy you ice cream and agree to watch countless episodes of The Bachelor until you were feeling okay again. One time you were sick with Covid and Gabe didn’t even care. He stayed with you during quarantine, snuggled under mountains of blankets, watching movies until you were sick of them, and gossiping about anyone and anything. It wasn’t a surprise that he caught the sickness a couple days later. Your moms laughed about the memory, finding it endearing that you two loved each other so much that you were willing to be sick together. 

Gabe settled some medicine on your bedside table before lifting your light pink covers and crawling into bed with you. You fit perfectly into his arms, like this spot was made just for you. Despite your sweaty forehead and aching body, he held you tightly, placing small kisses on the crown of your head. Your parents had always joked about you two getting married someday, but sometimes you wished that it was real; that you would grow old with him and live in a big white house with a white picket fence and a large rose garden in the backyard. You truly couldn’t see your life with anyone else. 

But that was silly. Gabe was your best friend. That would just be weird—right?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He walked all the way from his building to yours in the middle of the night despite having a ginormous game tomorrow. He felt unreal, like how could a person be so perfect and somehow be yours?

“Don’t be,” his words were just as soft. His chin resting on the top of your head as yours fit in the space between his neck and shoulder, leaving delicate kisses on his adams apple. This isn’t what best friends do, you told yourself. Best friends don’t kiss each other. Best friends don’t cuddle underneath sheets and hold hands to “warm each other up.” It was confusing and you hated it. You hated not knowing how he was feeling when you knew exactly how you felt about Gabe.

“You didn’t have to come here.”

“You called.”

You laughed. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could’ve stayed in bed and slept longer and had good dreams and—”

“Hey,” he smiled down softly at you, lifting your chin to look up at him. His hand lingered there for a while, not wanting to move away from you. There was something about you that made Gabe want to be closer and closer. There was something that made him want to parade you around campus, telling everyone that you were his. He wanted to see you in his jersey and kiss you after games and hold you tight at parties. He wanted to take you with him to New York when he plays for the Rangers after college and introduce you to his family as his girlfriend instead of just his best friend. Gabe was ready for more, but he hated thinking that you might not be. “I wasn’t just going to let you die, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, like that one time you pushed me down that water slide at Hurricane Harbor.”

“Pft, you wanted to go down that.”

You chuckled incredulously. “There is no way you just said that.”

“‘Oh, Gabe, please take me on this waterslide. I’ve been dying to go with you.’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you sound like this,” he said, pinching his nose with his fingers, his voice sounding blocked and nasally.

You pushed his hands away, hiding your face in his clothed chest. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, you love it.”

“I will fight you.”

He ran his hand up and down your arm, your eyes fluttering closed and your breathing steadying. He held you tighter, wrapping both arms around you and snuggling deeper into the bed. His last words before you fell into hypnosis lingered in your mind as you couldn’t even escape your lovestruck dreams of the perfect boy. “Keep telling yourself that, sicko.”

By the time the sun rose, you were sure that he would be gone; that his hoodie would be collected from the carpet, that his legs would no longer be intertwined with yours, and that his belongings would be gone, but he was still there and you were still in his arms and everything was still perfect. His breathing was soft and slow, his little curls were a bit tussled, his cheeks were pale, and you wondered what he was dreaming about that left a ghost of a smile on his face.

You wanted to wake up like this everyday and everyday after that. So yeah, maybe you were in love. Maybe you were in deep. And maybe you were ready to tell him.

He rustled around before lifting his eyes open, his smile growing wider when he saw your pink face, knowing he caught you staring at him as you glanced around the room, trying not to make eye contact with the boy.

“Feeling better?” he asked, turning to his side and facing you. 

A strand slipped through your loose ponytail and settled on the front of your face, covering your eyes as he allowed his hands to work faster than his mind. He slowly brought his hand up, carefully moving the strand behind your ear. And you would expect the moment to be over but when his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb lightly running over the smooth skin of your face, you knew that maybe just maybe there could be something more.

You nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad. I hate seeing my girl sick,” he spoke softly as if speaking any louder would shatter the calming atmosphere. 

My girl. You wanted to allow your mind to toss and turn, investigate the meaning behind those two words, search for his thought-process, his feelings, anything, but for the first time in forever, you felt serene and calm with him. You didn’t feel the need to wonder what this meant for the two of you. You were perfectly content where you were now, where you were going, and what you were going to do next.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast yet gentle. His eyes wandered down to your place of connection and when they met yours again, you could’ve sworn you saw something: a spark, hope, clarity, confirmation.

And when he leaned in, holding your face close with the hand still resting on your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, desperate to connect, you knew nothing would be the same. He would never be just your best friend anymore. And you were perfectly okay with that.

As Gabe leaned in, his lips met yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, where every sensation was heightened—the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the racing of your heart. In that instant, all doubts melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and bliss.

The kiss deepened, as if both of you were pouring all the unspoken feelings and desires into this one act. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel every part of him against you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he never wanted to let go.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance. When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. But there was no fear, no uncertainty, only a profound sense of connection and joy.

“I’m sick,” you said, making Gabe chuckle softly. Of course your first words after a long-anticipated kiss would be that. But that’s what Gabe loved about you. You were you in every sense of the word. You are the reason his stomach hurts from laughing every time he comes back to his dorm, staring into space as he thinks about your giggle and your smile and your stupid humor. You are everything. You’re the world. 

I just kissed the world, Gabe thought. My girl.

With a smile that spoke volumes, Gabe whispered, "I don’t care." 

“You will when you get sick.”

“And will you be here? When I get sick?” he asked, his thumb running back and forth on the exposed space of skin on your pelvis. 

You nodded. You would be there for him through anything no matter what. “Always.”

“Then I’m okay with it.”

And in that moment, as you nestled into his embrace once more, you knew that the stories were real and true; that love is real and true, because you just fell in it and you couldn’t be happier.

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Irving Bailiff/Burt Goodman:

they are TRAPPED in capitalist dystopian hell and yet gay love persists. literally they are fighting for their got damn lives to be gay. they've been subjected to evil fucked up brain surgery to make them forget who they are outside of the workplace and yet. AND YET. they fall in love INSIDE the workplace and gain the desire to fight their oppressors so they can do old man yaoi activities. i forgot to take my adderall today sorry im not forming coherent thoughts but they made christopher walken yaoi real

They have only ever experienced being at work and are desperately trying to find meaning with no memory of the outside world. Fraternization is against the rules as well. The yearning is so much.

they are 2 sad old men who are in forbidden love. they bond over a mutal love of corporate art & company tote bags. their love inspired Irving to rebel against his employers for the first time ever. Burt is even Christopher Walken.

They’re so quietly sweet and heart-wrenching… fell in love on the ‘inside’ (they both work a job that ‘severs’ their work memories from their out-of-work memories; inside the job, they have no idea who they are on the outside or what the world is like, but they found each other and found a little bit of love and meaning and happiness inside the nightmare corporate world that is their job)

canonically in love with each other! in the show people sever their consciousness so they aren't aware when they're working. this creates a separate person that only exists while they're at the office, who doesn't share any memories with the person they are on the outside. these two old men bond and find comfort in each other despite the dystopian hell situation they're in

Old men having a forbidden romance while stuck in a hellish workplace dystopia

These two old men know nothing outside of their company propaganda, which says romance is forbidden, and they still choose each other. They bond over paintings, discuss company policy in each other's arms like they're debating scripture on whether their love is allowed. They're sooo gay and it's so sweet to see true, canonical old man yaoi

Weird old man office romance except they only exist inside the bounds of the world’s worst office building and they go on a little date to a room full of plastic plants

Ravenpaw/Barley:

kitties who were outcast from previous groups they were a part of and find and live with each other. they are canonical mates even though theyre both dudes. they grow old together, but ravenpaw gets cancer and dies before barley (he lives to be considered old in warrior cats years). however ravenpaw wanted to be in the same kitty afterlife that barley will go to, so they can be together in kitty afterlife. barley is still alive though as far as we know and might be the oldest living cat in the series now. also i just think its funny to call little kitty cats "old man yaoi"

[lunargrapejuice]

Hiya Luna, I hope you’re doing well 🥰! I saw your requests were open and decided to send one in, I hope thats alright! If I may, may I ask for Sephiroth and the prompt “It’s weird. I never thought I could feel like this, but you showed up. Now, it’s like I don’t wanna go on knowing I might lose the feeling.” please? Ngl I was going to ask for Cloud or Zack because they’re my faves, but I got too nervous 🙈!

Thank you so much and I hope you have a lovely weekend 🥰!

lyra!!! it is more than alright! i am so so happy that you did🥰🩷 and PLEASE LOVELY YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY ASK FOR ZACK OR CLOUD!! - I'D LOVE TO TRY WRITING SOMETHING FOR THEM💕 thank you so much for submitting this one🥺 - i'm down bad bad this also got longer than i planned whoops 🤭

🌙 prompt event

“it’s weird. i never thought i could feel like this, but you showed up. now, it’s like i don’t wanna go on knowing i might lose the feeling.” | sephiroth x reader with no pronouns used

it’s safe to admit to himself that love is very unfamiliar. 

growing up sephiroth was taught that such feelings make you weak, softens the heart that should be hardened and cold and calculating. over time he had learned for himself how not necessarily true that was. maybe it wasn’t love, at least not in the capacity in which he feels it now, but he’s cared for comrades and friends even when others might argue it made him weak. but what’s before him now, and slipping through his fingers each day that passes, is something he has never experienced. 

something he never saw coming and hasn’t known what to do with but also doesn’t know what to do without. 

and he was going without considering you were actively avoiding him and hadn't spoken a word to him in what felt like weeks. even in meetings you were forced to attend together, you always left swiftly and without another glance his way, finding one reason or another to deny him a moment of your time and when he almost caught you alone in the hallway, your eyes meeting for but a moment, you were gone as quickly as he had blinked. 

he has been wrecking his brain on what he had done wrong that would make you avoid him, his mind wandering to the chest aching distance between you every chance it got. he had almost lost to angeal in training two days because of it and nearly again to genesis today before his friend looked knowingly into his eyes and recited loveless; ‘the wandering soul knows no rest’

the words echo in his mind, in genesis’ voice no less, when he spots you in the distance. restlessness doesn’t quite begin to describe what your absence was doing to him. it was an uncomfortableness he had never felt before. one he had to do something about because every day it grows worse and if it stays like this he fears you’ll be torn from him entirely. 

it already feels like you are. he looks as collected as he always does but inside his heart stirs and he knows he cannot let this go any longer. 

you swear you saw him down the hall in your side view. he was impossible to miss for so many reasons but the most prominent of them all being your eyes were always evidently drawn to him, just like your heart had been and you cursed them both when they made you stall in your sprint to run away and avoid him right now.

it’s not as though it’s what you wanted but it is what you felt was best when you could feel yourself not being able to hold back your emotions. he couldn’t know, even though you’re sure it was written all over your face everytime you stole a glance but stolen looks weren’t the same as saying the words i love you and being rejected by someone you couldn’t bear to lose. 

so you started your plan of avoiding him until those feelings disappeared. except the distance had not made them go anywhere, leaving them to simmer uncomfortably in your chest like they might burn you. when you saw his lips fall each time you made an excuse to get out of his vicinity, you felt nauseous for upsetting him. it wouldn’t be forever, you keep telling yourself but you don’t know how true that actually is. you cannot picture a life without these feelings; without the way his smile makes your insides buzz with warm incomparable to the sun, with how safe and cared for you feel in his proximity and how utterly gentle shinras strongest soldier is whenever he touches you.

you turn around to make your escape just in case your peripheral vision is not playing tricks on you but before you can make it two steps, you’re staring at his half hidden chest, hardened leather around soft skin your hand aches to touch. so it’s like that, using his actual speed to not let you get away. perhaps you had made him more upset than you initially thought..

“sephiroth!” you smile up at him and it nearly reaches your eyes if it weren’t for the shake of your voice that accompanies your eagerly beating heart. 

“you’ve been avoiding me.” it’s not a question but a very obvious observation that fills you with guilt, though he hadn’t said it in an accusing tone.

your smile falls and you swallow the lump building in your throat, unable to meet his eyes but you don’t try to deny it. “.. i’m sorry. i just..” you can’t find any words that aren’t just the truth.

taking a step back, to run or just put a little more distance between you and find your strength to push back the emotions, you really aren’t sure for which but within an instant his hands are on your face, cupping your jaw like you’re made of glass but in a steady hold that told you he didn’t want to let go, bringing your gaze up to his. you could pull away if you really wanted, you knew he’d let go without you having to ask but you don’t do anything of the sort.

thin slitted pupils stare back at you, swirling in a sea of blue and green and glowing with mako and your brain screams for you to bite your tongue while your heart urges the words forward but he looks at you like he’s going to say something, staring at you with an expression you can’t decipher nor look away from while he pauses.

he says your name, breaking the silence between you, and you hope he can’t feel the heat of your cheeks and neck with the way your body reacts to the way he says it. then he chuckles a bit breathlessly, like it’s helping him let go of something that was holding him back before. 

“i cannot stand being away from you. it’s weird..” he says, his thumbs brush along your cheeks and you swear the world around you stops, like the goddess is leaving this moment only for the two of you. “i never thought i could feel like this,” he smiles fondly and you feel your eyes soften in time with his, your hearts beating with sync. “like i have something to care for. someone i can be my true self with. but you showed up and now, it’s like i don’t want to go on knowing i might lose the feeling.” 

your heart is somehow tearing and mending itself back together at his words and you finally let yourself touch him in return, feeling the wetness of your tears dripping from your lashes before you realize you’re crying. 

his expression falls to worry as he wipes every tear that falls but all you can do is smile and shake your head, closing the distance between you and letting your worries crash to the ground as you reply to him in earnest.

♡♡♡♡♡

main masterlist

[bloody-bee-tea]

We have to match

This fic was entirely inspired by by this amazing art by @jjks-dodo

The first time it happens, Suguru doesn't know what to do with the present Satoru shoves into his hands.

“It’s not my birthday,” is the first thing out of his mouth, because it’s the first of December, so it’s actually closer to Satoru’s birthday than his own.

“I know that,” Satoru gives back, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he’s vibrating out of his skin with excitement.

It’s kind of his default state whenever he does something, though, so it doesn’t really clue Suguru in on what’s going on here.

“What is this, then?” Suguru asks, lifting the present slightly. It’s wrapped, though haphazardly so, and Suguru knows that Satoru must have done it himself.

“If you’d unpack it, you’d know,” he snaps out, slightly on edge so this must be important to him.

Still, Suguru can’t help but to want to know more before he unwraps it.

“I’d like to know the occasion first, if you don’t mind.”

He’s wrecking his brain, trying to figure out if he missed some important date, some anniversary he wasn’t aware of–he wouldn’t put it past Satoru to remember the first time they shared a popsicle or something and then make a big deal out of it–but nothing comes to mind.

“It’s Christmas,” Satoru informs him, and it only serves to make Suguru frown harder.

“It’s really not,” he gives back, because it’s December 1st. Christmas is still far away, and it’s not even as if Suguru celebrates it anyway.

He didn’t think Satoru would, either, what with his family and all but clearly he’d been wrong about that.

“But it’s the Advent Season,” Satoru almost whines out, clearly bothered by the fact that Suguru didn’t open his present yet. “Will you just open it already, goddamit.”

Suguru hesitates for a moment longer, mostly just to annoy the hell out of Satoru, but he sees how the bouncing slows down, sees how Satoru worries the hem of his sleeves with his fingers and Suguru just knows that this is important to him, no matter what is in the present.

It’s important enough to Satoru to make him nervous about this and Suguru doesn’t have it in him to let him wait longer.

“Fine, fine, relax, would you,” he mutters, even as he rips the paper wrapping apart and he momentarily goes still when he finds a sweater.

A Christmas sweater to be precise.

It’s red and green with little reindeers all over and it’s kind of hideous if Suguru were to be honest, but he can’t be. Not when Satoru looks at him with so much expectation written on his face.

“Thanks?” Suguru finally manages to say, still unsure what he’s supposed to do with this, when Satoru suddenly whips out a matching sweater.

“The time leading up to Christmas is the best time and we’ll have to match, so I got you that one to match mine,” he excitedly says, clearly reassured by the fact that Suguru didn’t immediately throw the sweater in his face.

“We have to match,” Suguru repeats slowly, and the corners of his mouth twitch when Satoru nods vigorously, making his hair flop around.

When a strand gets stuck in Satoru’s eyelashes, Suguru reaches out without thought to push it away. He briefly feels panic lick up his throat when Satoru goes still under his fingers, but Suguru pretends as if nothing happens and takes his hand back as if it didn’t mean anything.

“You sure you got my size right?” he asks to break the weird tension between them and it’s enough to jolt Satoru back into action, though he can’t quite hide the faint blush on his face.

“A size  bigger than me, because of your stupidly huge shoulders,” he huffs out and Suguru laughs.

“I keep telling you, if you’d actually train like at least once a weak you wouldn’t be all noodle-limbed.”

“I’m not noodle-limbed!” Satoru huffs and puffs with outrage and Suguru laughs even louder. 

They both know it’s not true anyway; Satoru is good enough at hand-to-hand combat to best just about everyone they know, except, of course, Suguru.

“If you and your stupidly jacked arms rip this sweater apart, I’m not getting you a new one,” Satoru hisses at him when Suguru takes of the shirt he’s currently wearing to try the sweater on.

It’s a nice thought, not having to wear this hideous thing, but Suguru just knows that for all his faked outrage Satoru would be devastated and Suguru couldn’t stand it. So he slips into the sweater and lets out a relieved little sigh when it actually fits him.

He only feels slightly stupid when he turns around and he gives a pointed look at Satoru’s own shirt.

“Where’s yours then,” he wants to know and Satoru lights up like a Christmas tree.

“I have it right here, wait,” he rushes out, magicking out a second sweater from god-knows-where and he slips it on without hesitation. “Now we match,” he laughs out, bright and happy and for that alone Suguru would wear much worse things than a stupid, cute, matching Christmas sweater.

~*~*~

The second time it happens, Suguru is kind of expecting it. He knows Satoru too well to think he’d let something like this go, would only do it for one year and so when Satoru hands him a slightly better wrapped present, he accepts it without complaint.

“Cutting it a little bit close, huh?” he asks, because it’s already late in the night of the first of December and it’s not like Satoru to miss out on even a day of this.

Last year he made Suguru wear the sweater almost constantly, only allowing him to take it off to get it washed and for missions and so for him to almost miss an entire day is uncharacteristic.

“Yeah, well–” Satoru trails off, clutching his jacket more tightly around himself and Suguru narrows his eyes at him.

“What did you do?” he wants to know because it’s clear as day that Satoru is up to something.

“Nothing,” Satoru easily gives back, too fast and too smooth and Suguru’s fingers still on the paper. 

“I don’t think I want this anymore,” he says, shoving the parcel into Satoru’s chest who shoves it right back.

“You have to, though Suguru, we have to match, remember?” 

“I’m not so sure I want to match with you anymore,” Suguru lies straight through his teeth and a painful stab of regret is all he gets for his trouble when hurt briefly flashes over Satoru’s face.

“But–it’s tradition, right?” Satoru asks and Suguru shakes his head.

“One year doesn’t make a tradition, Satoru,” he tells him, though he does get back to unwrapping the sweater.

This one is thankfully only red as far as Suguru can see so far, and so that already makes it better than the last one, at least in Suguru’s opinion.

That thought only holds for as long as he needs to fully unfold the sweater though, because of course it wouldn’t be that easy, not when it comes to Satoru.

The words ‘I’m the naughty one’ are stitched into the front in white and Suguru lowers it just enough to be able to glare at Satoru.

“What the hell is this?” he demands to know only for Satoru to grin brightly at him as he takes off his jacket, revealing a matching red sweater underneath it.

Except his says ‘I’m the nice one’.

“Absolutely not,” Suguru whispers under his breath, even as Satoru laughs right in his face in his glee but he gets the wind knocked out of him when Suguru throws his own sweater in Satoru’s face and then uses that moment of distraction to tackle him to the bed.

“Absolutely not!” Suguru repeats louder this time and starts to wrestle Satoru out of the sweater.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing, Suguru,” Satoru shrieks out, laughing so hard he can barely breathe when Suguru tries to distract him by tickling him but even like this it takes him a long time to finally, finally get Satoru out of the sweater.

“If one of us is the naughty one, it’s you,” Suguru pants out, sitting across Satoru’s legs and looking down at him, his hair falling around his face, bun having come undone somewhere in their tousle.

“But everyone expects that,” Satoru pouts at him, still breathing hard from screaming and laughing and his face is flushed red.

He’s absolutely beautiful.

“And besides, don’t act as if you don’t encourage me at every turn,” he adds and it’s not as if Suguru can even deny that.

Enabling Satoru is a bit of a bad habit of his but not everyone needs to know that.

“Do not,” he says, just to be contrary, and pulls the ‘I’m the nice one’ sweater over his head, so that there’s no chance of Satoru taking it back.

He stills when it settles around him.

“That’s my size,” he says, fixing Satoru with his eyes and Satoru blinks up at him.

“We have the same size?” he tries, even though they both know that’s bullshit and Suguru proves it to him by reaching for the naughty sweater and checking the size there.

“This one is one size smaller, though,” Suguru says and shoves the sweater almost into Satoru’s face.

“My mistake,” Satoru says, still not able to admit that he did this on purpose it seems and there’s only one possible punishment for that.

Suguru flops down on top of him.

“Uff, you oaf, don’t you know you’re heavy as fuck?” Satoru breathes out but his attempts at pushing Suguru off are half-hearted at best.

“I’m also tired as hell,” Suguru easily gives back and dares to nuzzle his face into the crook of Satoru’s neck. “I think I might sleep right here.”

“Hey, hey, Suguru!” Satoru squeaks out, though of course he’d never admit to that and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

Satoru is warm under him and kind of poky with his sharp edges but it’s the single most comfortable position Suguru has been in, simply because it’s Satoru, and soon enough he really gets sleepy.

“‘m gonna sleep now,” he whispers out and the last thing he knows is how Satoru scratches at his scalp as he breathes out a soft “Okay”.

~*~*~

Suguru is already holding his hands out when Satoru steps into the room.

“Let’s see what horrible thing you brought this time,” he says, making grabby hands at Satoru, who seems to have frozen right in the doorway.

“Uhm,” Satoru says, looking down at the present in his hands before he looks back up at Suguru.

He’s more nervous than he was even the first time he did this and it instantly puts Suguru on edge.

“Is it that hideous?” he wants to know, simply snatching the present out of Satoru’s hand, who tries to get it back but ultimately fails because he still can’t best Suguru when it comes to anything even resembling close combat.

“I just–” Satoru cuts himself off, clearly unsure of himself and Suguru fights the urge to soothe his nerves.

He fails miserably, because he always does when it comes to Satoru.

“You want me to give it back?” he asks, offering the present to Satoru, who doesn’t reach out for it. “If you don’t want to, we can skip this year,” Suguru goes on, even though it’s clear that some part of Satoru at least must want because he did get the sweater after all.

“No, it’s just–you might hate it.”

Satoru hasn’t been that unsure since the very first week of them knowing each other and Suguru hates it with a passion.

“Why would I?” he carefully asks but Satoru only shrugs. “Can I unwrap it?”

“Sure. Just remember that it doesn’t–you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Of course I want to sits at the tip of his tongue, but Suguru bites it back. It’s not going to help if he reassures Satoru with meaningless words right now, so instead of saying that he busies himself with unwrapping this year's sweater.

This one is green for a change but by now Suguru knows to wait until he sees the front before he forms his decision on this, so he quickly unfolds it, holding it out in front of him.

In stark white it says ‘Family Christmas’ on the front and Suguru is glad that the sweater is hiding his face for the moment because to think that Satoru was nervous about this hurts him acutely.

“You hate it,” Satoru grumbles when Suguru takes a moment too long to say something. “I knew you’d hate it, that was such a dumb idea,” he goes on, his voice barely above a whisper and Suguru lowers the sweater so fast, Satoru flinches.

“Of course you’re my family, you idiot,” Suguru breathes out, instantly honing in on what made Satoru so nervous because he knows him after all. “It’s a great sweater.”

“It–is?” Satoru wants to know, clearly still not convinced and Suguru doesn’t hesitate to slide it over his shirt. 

“Of course it is,” he vehemently says, because it is. 

Satoru doesn’t quite seem convinced though, so Suguru pulls him into a hug. 

“You are my family, idiot,” he says, more fondly than maybe necessary, but Satoru doesn’t call him out on it and instead slings his arms around him.

“You sure?”

“I’ve been wearing stupid matching Christmas sweaters with you for the past two years, you really think I would do that for just anybody?”

Satoru doesn’t need to know that that really has nothing to do with being family and all with Suguru being stupidly in love with him. At least not yet.

Though a plan is slowly starting to take form in Suguru’s mind.

“I should hope not, actually,” Satoru gives back and Suguru rests his head on top of Satoru’s.

He doesn’t move away, and he doesn’t protest about the hug as much as he normally does–however feigned his protest usually is–and so Suguru knows that this really means a lot to him.

It means a lot to him, too, and so he’s more than content to stay right where he is.

~*~*~

Suguru barges into Satoru’s room at the tail end of the last day of November.

“I’ve got a present for you!” he calls out, throwing the wrapped gift right into Satoru’s face when he’s not quick enough to sit up and catch it.

Nerves are licking up Suguru’s spine but like this he can’t talk himself out of it. Not again. He talked himself out of it so often during the last year–years, really–and he thinks it’s time that one of them man’s up. He thinks he knows what Satoru’s answer is going to be, has seen it in the lingering stares, has felt it in the prolonged touches but there’s still that small chance that it’s all just because Satoru sees him as family.

As just family, and nothing more.

“What’s this?” Satoru wants to know, turning the present in his hands and Suguru rolls his eyes at him.

“If you’d open it, you’d know,” he shoots back, not sitting down next to Satoru because he needs to be able to read Suguru’s own sweater once he unpacked his.

It doesn’t help with the nerves, when Satoru has to look up at him like that, though.

“Is this–a sweater?” Satoru asks, squeezing the package in his hands. “Did you get me a Christmas sweater?” He almost sounds accusing and Suguru raises an eyebrow at him.

“What? You can do it, but I can’t?”

“But I have ours picked out already!”

“Yeah, well, shucks. It’s my turn, this year,” Suguru decides and he closes Satoru’s mouth when it drops open.

“Wow, didn’t know you could be so rude,” he mutters, Suguru’s hand still under his chin and Suguru gives him his best grin.

“I learned from the best. Now, if you would?”

“Now, if you would,” Satoru repeats mockingly under his breath, but he does rip into the paper, quickly unveiling the sweater.

At first glance it’s simply red, but of course there’s something written on the front and Suguru’s heart beats in his chest.

“I have everything I want for Christmas,” Satoru reads out loud and Suguru can see the frown on his face. “That’s not even funny, Suguru,” he then whines out, turning his gaze back to Suguru, who feels as if he could die on the spot.

His mouth his dry, his heart is beating so fast he’s afraid it might jump right out of his chest and the butterflies in his stomach make him a little bit sick.

“It’s not supposed to be funny,” he still somehow gets out as he opens his jacket and shows Satoru the matching sweater he’s wearing.

It’s green and the words “It’s me, I’m everything” are written on the front.

Suguru watches how Satoru’s eyes go wide as he slowly takes in the words and he knows it’s all going to be fine when Satoru blushes a furious red.

“What does that mean? Suguru, what does that mean?” he demands to know, almost shouting out the words in his urgency and Suguru smiles at him.

“Take an educated guess,” he replies, though he doesn’t torture Satoru–or himself–any longer.

He bends down, briefly pressing his lips to Satoru’s to make it abundantly clear just what this all means and he knows Satoru finally goes with the program when his hands fly up to tangle in Suguru’s sweater, keeping him right where he is, keeping him close.

“Does that mean I don’t get any other Christmas presents this year?” Satoru pouts out, though Suguru can see how his eyes shine with happiness. 

He leans in to taste that smile once more.

“Maybe if you’re being good, I have one or two for you,” he breathes out, and this time it’s Satoru who leans in for a kiss.

“But everyone knows I’m the naughty one,” Satoru mutters against his lips and Suguru laughs.

Satoru steals the sound right from his lips.

“Maybe I’ll part with that sweater just this once,” Suguru muses but Satoru shakes his head. 

“Not a chance in hell, we’re never going to take these ones off. I love you.”

Trust Satoru to still be the first one to say it, Suguru fondly thinks as he’s almost drowning in his love. 

“I love you,” he quickly gives back, peppering Satoru’s face with kisses until he’s laughing with happiness.

“I want everyone to know,” Satoru eventually says, once they are cuddled close on the bed and Suguru snorts out a laugh.

“Kind of inevitable if you don’t want to take that sweater off ever again,” he gives back and Satoru beams at him.

“Best way to tell everyone. Best way to tell me, actually, “he adds after a moment and Suguru simply has to kiss him again.

“Thought you might like it,” Suguru nods, pulling Satoru closer. “Glad you like it.”

“Love it,” Satoru immediately corrects him. “Just like I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Suguru mutters, getting sleepy now that all the adrenaline is out of his system and he’s warm and cozy in bed, with the love of his life safely in his arms.

He nuzzles his face against Satoru’s shoulder and breathes one more kiss on his skin before sleep slowly drags him under.

The last thing he hears his a muttered “You think there are sweaters for proposing?” and Suguru falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He really wouldn’t mind a sweater like that.

[cameronspecial]

Hey! Your writing is a masterpiece can you please write one where reader is a kook (a good one who actually enjoys being a kook) but is dating JJ but he tries to change her and at some point they argue and he brings up Rafe(who is readers best friend) and tells her that Rafe is in love with her but reader is like “no he’s not” and then JJ asks her if she love Rafe and she’s like “of course he’s my best friend” and Jj is like “Let me ask you something else I love you do you love me?” And she just stands there and then happy ending with Rafe 🫶🏻

Who Do You Love?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

“JJ, what do you want me to do? Not go? I have to. It’s an event honouring my dad,” Y/N yells. JJ shakes his head, “Of course, I don’t want you to go. That shit is the Kookiest thing I’ve ever heard.” “I’m a Kook, JJ. What do you expect? You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want too,” she argues back. Her boyfriend lets out a low chuckle, “I expect you to spend time with me. I swear, you spend more time with Rafe than you do me.” “What are you talking about? I spend most of my nights with you. Rafe has nothing to do with this,” she replies. He steps closer to her, towering over her. “Rafe has everything to do with this. He’s in love with you.” It’s Y/N’s turn to laugh as her head moves from side to side, “That’s ridiculous. No, he isn’t.” “Yes, he is. But what I want to know, is if you love him?” JJ asks, looking up at her with tears in his eyes. Her eyes avoid his gaze, “Of course, I love him. JJ, he’s my best friend.” 

JJ’s hand removes his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows he shouldn’t ask this question. He knows he won’t like the answer he receives; however, he needs to know the answer. “So let me ask you something else. Do you love me? Because I love you and I’ve said it so many times, except you haven’t said it back. Maybe you just needed time, but maybe it was something else. Someone else.” She can only stare at him with her mouth open. Her brain is taking in all the information. The breeze coming in from the poorly insulated house causes goosebumps to run up her arm. JJ first said he loved her a few weeks ago and she wasn’t able to say it back. She knew that she felt it; she was just scared of saying it. Though JJ’s words make her rethink her previous beliefs. What if the true reason why she couldn’t say it was because her heart belonged to someone else?

———

Rafe opens the front door in his suit, ready to go for the charity event where Mr. Y/L/N is being honoured. His smile drops when he sees Y/N in her dress, tears streaming down her face. “Sweet girl, what happened?” he worries and pulls her into a hug. He doesn’t care that her mascara is going to stain his clothes. All he needs to do right now is to make sure Y/N is okay. She bruises her head into his chest, “JJ broke up with me.” The hand on her back tightens into a fist. “I’m going to kill him,” he threatens. Y/N places a hand on his chest to stop him, “No, don’t. It’s not his fault. It’s mine.” “Nothing is ever your fault,” he says against her ear. “You are perfect.” He pulls back from the hug to look into her eyes. “You do love me,” she mutters; nevertheless, he hears her. He takes a step back and awkwardly coughs. “You’re my best friend. It would be weird if I didn’t love you,” he covers up. Y/N shakes her head, “No, you love me.” She reiterates, emphasizing the word to distinguish the difference. Rafe doesn’t know what to say, he can’t deny her accusation. She can sense his worry and takes a step closer to him. She lets the tip of her fingers graze his. His heart flutters at the feeling and he hesitantly laces their fingers together.

When she squeezes his hand, he brings his lips closer to hers. They can feel each other's breaths on their faces. “D-do you love me too?” he stutters out. It’s the question he’s been wanting but has been afraid to ask. He thinks he might explode if she says no. “I love you too,” she breathes out. Rafe feels butterflies and he has to feel her lips on his. Their lips connect, making everything perfect in the world.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[its-time-to-write]

Jamie tartt friends with benefits would be very fun! I love how you write Jamie it’s so so incredibly lovely

I wrote this bc I’m mad about old men trying to tell me how to do my job.

soft hands hit the jagged ground

It starts off as a joke, really. 

You’re both at the same party and arguing about who’s the better kisser, when suddenly your lips are on Jamie’s and neither of you are quite sure who made the first move. 

You don’t talk much, just enough to say that this competition extends to other physical activities and to order a car, so a few hours later you collapse exhausted on the bed in your flat. 

“Fuck,” Jamie gasps. 

“Fuck,” you agree. 

“We’ve got to do this again sometime,” he says, hand on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. 

“Give me ten minutes,” you reply. “Can’t let my twenties go to waste now, can I?”

So yeah, it’s like a thing. 

It’s not a romantic thing, that’s for sure.

It’s a “we just won a match” thing, or a “I had a shit day at work” thing, or “I need to blow off steam and can’t be bothered to pick up a stranger at the club” thing. 

No, romance does not factor in. This is strictly a friendship-type deal. 

It’s great, because neither of you actually has time for a relationship, and hookups are so hit or miss. And besides, you’ve never been extremely thrilled at the idea of some random person knowing where you live. And Jamie’s a little worried that someone will try to steal his jerseys. 

(Not worried enough, apparently, because you manage to make off with one from his Man City days.)

You both swore that neither of you would catch feelings and maybe that would have been true except for the evening Jamie called you and said, “Can I come over?” in a voice you’ve never heard before. 

You’ve barely hung up the phone when he’s knocking at your door, dressed in a suit and actual dress shoes, not trainers, hands leaving your body only for a moment to shut the door and turn the lock. 

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world, all slow and hungry.

He touches you almost like you’re someone else, and you’d think it’s strange except you can’t think of anything other than the fact that his body is pressed against yours and he’s holding you like it means something. 

You don’t say anything until you’re walking back to your room wrapped in a towel, water bottles in hand. 

“What was that about?” you ask, handing him his water. 

Jamie barely lifts his head. He decides not to play dumb, to be a little bit truthful. He’s not sure why, maybe because he’s still coming down and his brain doesn’t work proper. 

“Me and the lads were at a funeral today. For Ms. Welton’s dad. Made me feel all fuckin’… strange and shit. Dunno.” He takes a sip of his water and you settle in the bed next to him. 

You nod and say, “Makes sense.” It does. Funerals are fucking strange. The last one you went to had you feeling weird for a month so yeah, you get it. 

You’re both silent for a while longer when Jamie blurts out, “I told Keeley I still loved her,” and then you’re silent again, but it’s a different kind of quiet. The kind where you can practically hear the words oh shit hanging in the air. 

A couple things click into place where they probably shouldn’t, and so you take your cues from Jamie and say what’s on your mind as you blurt out, “Is that who you were thinking of?”

Jamie goes completely still, which is also strange because he’s never still. Always tapping or shifting around or something. 

“Right,” you say, far too brightly. It’s fine, after all. “I understand. Yeah, no, makes sense.”

You’re not sure what else to say after that so you kind of just sit there and wait for Jamie to move again. He does, sits up enough to grab his knickers from where he dropped them off the side of your bed, slide them on, and say, “Better get going. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you say halfheartedly, suddenly very, very tired. It’s doesn’t escape your notice that Jamie doesn’t meet your eyes the entire time he collects his clothes and heads out the door. 

You manage to get up and fish a new pair of underwear from one drawer and a sleep shirt from another, and it’s not until you’re back in your bed that you realize it’s Jamie’s 51 kit. 

But you’re too tired to get up and change so you just leave it and pass out. 

—

You wake up the next morning with way too many emotions to consider, so you let yourself buy a coffee from the shop instead of making one at home. You get an extra shot of espresso to block out the great big warning bells firing in your head. 

You’re not-so-blissfully unaware of the fact that Jamie’s on the other side of town having a similar morning. One that involves going to Nelson Road early to sneak in some extra cardio so he can work off whatever feelings still linger from last night. 

For a brief moment, he considers going to Dr. Sharon. But no, there’s no need for that because it’s all straightforward, innit? He’s a little fucked from the funeral and telling Keeley he loves her, and all he needs is one more good fuck and then it’s all out of his system. 

Except whenever he thinks about your face of all body parts, his chest gets all squeezy. And worse. 

So maybe it’s not so straightforward. 

He does fucking love Keeley, right? He’d take a bullet for her, and he misses talking to her every day. He scrunches up his face and imagines kissing her, nothing too wild, and it doesn’t make his chest tighten. 

That’s a good thing. 

Right?

—

By the time you get home from work, you’ve decided that it’s fine. It’s weird that he was thinking about someone else, but it doesn’t mean anything. Honestly, you two are just messing around until one of you decides to get into a relationship. So yeah, it’s all good. It’s not like you’d date him anyway. 

You’ve been pushing away thoughts like that for years, you’re not about to let them surface now. 

—

Jamie does not particularly want to talk to Dr. Sharon about this. He wants to talk to Keeley, except last time he tried that she walked him all the way to the therapist’s office and left him there. 

He thinks maybe Ted would be good, except he’s not sure Ted would know how to deal with Jamie’s whole “friends with benefits” situation. 

Beard probably would, except his relationship with Jane is one step away from psychotic, so Jamie thinks that he’ll talk to Sam because Sam is smart and probably won’t judge him. 

It works out, actually, because he’s going over to Sam’s for a sleepover since they have an out-of-town match the next day, and need to be up early. Jamie hates waking up early so Sam promised to make sure he wouldn’t press the snooze button on his alarm. 

So yeah, now he’s in Sam’s car (a fucking Tesla, all eco-friendly and shit) and they’re talking about training and brand deals and Jamie asks if Sam’s got a girl, but Sam just blushes and says I don’t know, not anymore before turning the question on Jamie. 

Jamie sighs and puts his face in his hands. “Let’s wait till we ain’t in your fucking car, yeah? It’s too fucking long to say here.”

Sam obliges and just turns up the radio for next eight minutes it takes to get to his house. 

Jamie hauls his bag into Sam’s flat and down on the guest room floor before taking a deep fucking breath. 

Right. He can do this. 

He makes his way to the kitchen where Sam’s pulling something out of a crock pot and Jamie is a little envious of his ability to cook so well for himself. 

Sam is oblivious to Jamie’s internal monologue as he says, “Alright, this girl. Tell me about her.”’

Jamie takes another breath and then the words just come spilling out. 

“I’ve known her since we were fucking…fifteen or some shit and like, we’ve always been friends. But lately it’s been like, what’s the word, friends with benefits? Where we have sex but aren’t dating. It’s been alright, mostly, except yesterday I told Keeley I loved her and things got all fucked up in me head.”

“How so?” Sam prods encouragingly. 

“It’s like…” Jamie pauses. What is it like? “Thinking about kissing Keeley didn’t make me all tingly or nothing. Dunno, felt- wrong. But I think of her face-” he groans. “Shit, man, me heart started pounding like mad. I’ve seen her naked, and it’s her face that gets me. I mean, what the fuck is that?”

Sam’s face is doing some weird contortionist movement, trying to hide his expression, so Jamie says, “Fucking hell man, spit it out before you break something,” and Sam says, 

“I don’t think you love Keeley.”

That makes Jamie mad. Of course he loves Keeley. He’d do anything for Keeley. 

Sam must see it written in his face because he hurries on. “I don’t mean that you don’t have love for her. I mean that you do not seem to love her romantically. It would seem to me you like this other girl.”

Well shit. That’s exactly what Jamie was afraid of. Leave it to Sam to get to the heart of the problem in five minutes, only this leaves him with another problem:

He’s spent the last nine years pretending like he had only friendly feelings toward you. Innocent, like. 

He can’t let all that pretending go to waste now. 

—

You don’t see each other for a week which is fine, because you had decided way beforehand not to meet up until the next weekend. You were finishing a major project at work and he was wrapping up a killer week at training. Hence, Friday night was the night to blow off all that steam.

You’ve successfully squashed any feelings for Jamie. They’re gone, buried deep down once again and you will not let them come back up.

And yet, you’ve put on a pink set under your shirt and sweat shorts, with a little more makeup than you’d gone to work with. Maybe the whole Keeley thing is lingering in your head a little more than you thought.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

You grab your keys and head out the door to Jamie’s house.

—

Jamie’s already texted you to let you know the door’s open, so you slip in and turn the lock behind you. The foyer is lit with a dim glow from upstairs.

“Jamie?” you call softly, “You here?”

There’s no response, so you pad up the stairs, stopping only to drop your keys on top of the table in the hall.

“Jamie?”  you say again, peering into his bedroom. Ah. So that’s where the light’s coming from. 

Jamie jumps from where he’s been bending over a candle. “Shit, you scared me. Didn’t hear you fucking come in.”

You smile tentatively, unsure what to say. Jamie shakes out the match and crosses over to the ensuite to drop it into the sink. He comes back out again and dips you into a kiss.

He says, “Nice shirt,” with his lips still against yours, and it’s only then that you remember you’ve put on his old kit, the one you stole the second time you went home with him.

You grin and kiss him again, waiting to be on your own two feet again so you can slide a hand under his sweatshirt. Neither of you have worn anything particularly amazing because it’s what’s underneath that counts, isn’t it?

Jamie’s thinking something similar because he starts backing you up to the bed as you fumble to slip shirts over heads and pants down on the floor. He traces an appreciative palm over a pink flower appliqué, and then you push the last traces of doubt as he hooks a finger under your waistband.

—

“What’s with all the candles?” you ask, when it’s dark enough to be considered nighttime but the clock says it’s technically morning.

“Setting the mood,” Jamie replies, voice gravely and just a little bit raw.

“Hmm,” you say. “Glad you didn’t burn the house down.”

Jamie’s been pressing kisses up your bare arm and you can feel him grin at that. “Psh. I’m an adult now. I’m fuckin’ responsible.”

“Sure,” you chuckle, then shiver as Jamie’s mouth has found its way to a spot behind your ear. “You ready to go again?”

“No,” Jamie replies between kisses, “What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” you say as you roll on top of him. You trace his lower lip with your thumb, and he takes that opportunity to his it. And to run his knuckles up your sides.

“Fucker,” you hiss. “That tickles.”

He smirks, a real one, with his eyes all heavy-lidded and the barest hint of his teeth gleaming in the candlelight. 

“Yeah?” he whispers. “What about this? Does this tickle?”

He actually fucking dances his fingertips up your sides as you gasp and try to get off of him. He’s not having it, because he rolls you over and continues tickling you as if you hadn’t just been fucking fifteen minutes ago. 

You’re laughing and half-heartedly pushing at him and it’s so ridiculous that you stop trying to get him away and instead press as much of your skin against his as you can. 

He’s whispering in your ear, a combination of crude jokes and compliments, the kind that makes a blush bloom from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears.

God fucking damn it, he’s going to be the death of you, but you can’t make yourself stop smiling.

He’s still murmuring in your ear and he’s saying something about how fucking gorgeous you look, how fucking beautiful you’d look on the side of the pitch with his number on or as his date to some event and how everyone would be jealous because you’re so fucking hot, but you belong with him and he’s the one who gets to see you last thing at night and first thing in the morning.

It’s so utterly ridiculous.

He’s only saying it because he’s so far gone.

It’s so. Utterly. Ridiculous.

“Jamie, we can’t date,” you say between giggles.

He pauses to ask “Why not?” and the remnants of your laughter die in your throat. Oh shit. One good look at his face tells you he’s not joking. 

“Jamie,” you say again, this time more seriously, “Jamie, we really can’t date. That’s not how this works. You’re supposed to date a model or an actress or something, and I’m supposed to date, like, an accountant. Or a lawyer.”

“Why?” Jamie asks, accent thick as it’s ever been. 

“Because,” you reply. “I’m not really the trophy-girlfriend type. And… we’ve been friends pretty much forever. It’d mess everything up when we break up.” He’s still on top of you, propping himself up on his elbows so he can see your face. You want to point out that this is a conversation that probably requires clothing, but you don’t actually want that so you stay silent.

“What if we didn’t break up?” he suggests. 

You bark out a short laugh. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just choose not to break up.”

“Can,” he responds.

“Can’t,” you counter. 

“Don’t be Roy Kent,” he says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you reply. “And anyway, I’m way sexier than him. And less scratchy.”

“You fucking like when I tell you what to do,” he says. 

You make a face. “I like it when it’s sexy. This is not sexy. This is sad and stupid, and we promised we wouldn’t have this conversation.”

“You promised,” Jamie reminds you. “I just didn’t disagree.”

He’s not wrong.

“Fine,” you say, pushing him a little so he’ll get off you. 

You sit up and wrap the sheets around your chest, pulling your knees close. “You told me less than a week ago that you were still in love with Keeley, and now you want me to date you? I love you, but you’re just getting your wires crossed because we’re having sex.”

Jamie shoots up, mouth open and you realize what you just said. 

“Shit, not like that, I mean as a friend, not- not as- I don’t know, I didn’t mean to say that,” you stutter out.

“I love Keeley as a friend,” Jamie says. “Talked to Sam about it, and he says I don’t know how to tell the difference between a friend and fucking romance. He said I’m fucking in love with you, not her, and he’s fucking right.”

You’d say that sounds like the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard, except you’ve known Jamie for nine years and yeah, that sounds like something he’d do.

“Right,” you say slowly, “and you just now started feeling this way?”

He hesitates before deciding fuck it. “Nah. I think- I’ve been pretending like I didn’t since we were like, fuckin’ sixteen, probably. Didn’t want to screw it up though, did I?”

You shake your head before saying, “No, I guess not.”

“And anyway, us being together is that different from what we do now,” he continues. “Dating just means we can like, hold hands.”

You laugh and ask, “Is that the only thing that’s going to change?” but you can feel your resolve softening. Jamie can feel it too.

“Nah,” he says, feeling confident to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I can tell you that I love you. And kiss you just because. And get me mum off my back about never making a move on you.”

You say, “Hmm,” as if you’re considering it, but he knows you’ve already made your decision by the way you reach for him with both hands with a smile beginning to bloom across your face.

[thepunkmuppet]

I have spent so much time thinking about the miss holloway musical WHICH THEY HAVE ALREADY WRITTEN and I need to spill my thoughts about it

there is no point or end to this it’s just a brain fart of all the thoughts I’ve been having so enjoy I guess lmfao

“backstory”. it will be about her backstory. was she an 80’s music star who sold her mortal life for fame in a deal that backfired on her?? or was she a woman with the gift about to be hanged by the hatchet men who saved herself by making that same deal?? HOW FAR BACK DOES THIS GO IS WHAT IM ASKING WE KNOW FUCK ALL ABOUT THIS WOMAN

if it’s the former, I would love to maybe have mariah as casey (the girl with the gift in the witchwood who asked for her autograph) be an actual character who holloway maybe tries to help. also kim singing 80’s songs fuck yeah

and if it’s the latter then,,, oh wow. some heavy musical numbers, a shitload of hatchetmen / church of the starry children lore, and maybe another form of the lords in black (maybe the creepy hooded figures that we see drawn in the black book???)

also sorry EDIT I just looked at this picture again and the middle one (probably wiggly) is holding a knife. there’s no fucking way that’s not the black blade this is absolutely miss holloway guys omggggg

I would love to see this scene on stage with kim!!!! this would make 5 different forms of the LIB that we’ve seen / heard about (dolls, teens / humans, their true forms, wiggly in made in america, and whatever this is). I’m just imagining you see these black hooded figures, and then in the pro-shot you get a good look inside their hoods… and their faces are NOT human. like just imagine a massive purple eye staring out of one of those hoods, maybe even moving and blinking, a cool animatronic thing. SO CREEPY!! I also love the idea of switching up the actors again - I love jon so much as wiggly and I don’t think they would change him bc of his voice, but with the rest of them I think any actor can play a LIB which opens up so many possibilities…

I also would love to know how miss holloway met duke, and potentially even how many times they have met and then he had to forget her. considering the fact that we now have weird lore about his dad in 2005, did she know duke when he was younger?? did she help him out when he was a teenager, or help his dad?? is it a family thing, like she’s vowed to watch over the keane family or something??

duke’s dad is a big part of this tbh, because what a random insane lore / backstory drop, like WHAT? I genuinely have no idea what douglas keane sr’s murder could be about, except that it ties in to duke and to wilbur. and shows that 2005 is SO DAMN IMPORTANT

2005 was the year hannah was born, the year the portal to the black and white was created, the year wilbur cross went insane and became a disciple of the LIB, the year miss holloway took on the mantle of “miss holloway”, and (very likely) the year miss holloway and wilbur fought. so i think it’s safe to say that the musical itself will be set in 2005, which to me means macnamara and wilbur backstory alongside holloway and duke, which is very very fun

I like the idea that wilbur and macnamara were canonically together, and I really want to see pre-LIB wilbur. I also love the idea of macnamara and holloway working together or even becoming friends - despite being set a decade and a half before nightmare time, it would feel like the culmination of the two hanging plot threads / overarching arcs to me. also the idea that it was holloway who introduced macnamara to the paranormal and therefore essentially set up PEIP and doomed wiley is some juicy stuff that I would LOVE to see, especially if either macnamara or wiley lived in hatchetfield as kids and miss holloway helped them, inspiring whichever one of them to set up PEIP

ok so leading off of that I have a clear vision of a potential final scene that is driving me insane, and that’s the main reason why I patched together this post.

the final scene is the fight between miss holloway and wilbur, the one that happens in every single timeline.

and the basic idea is that we see both fights at once. there’s a song, and the stage is like black friday and spies are forever, with a level above the stage the actors can walk up to and stand on. joey and kim sing, and do their bit on the stage, but above the stage there are either doubles or a projection, mirroring the choreography. only in the pro-shot version, they would splice in joey and kim playing both pairs, which I just think would turn out looking really awesome despite being tricky to pull off live.

and yeah basically at the exact same time, one wilbur stabs holloway, and the other holloway stabs wilbur, creating a gorgeous visual representation of the newly splintered timelines.

either that or they do a trail to oregon and just do a different ending each night, and then splice them together in the pro-shot like I was saying. but I personally prefer the first one, if they’re able to pull it off and make it look good

and duke shows up just after that, having followed miss holloway throughout the story so far. and in the universe where wilbur’s dead, miss holloway makes him forget it all, hence this being the year that she takes on the new name and the fact that we know he has forgotten about her / her true past before. and then in the universe where holloway is dead, he holds her as she dies in his arms. bonus points if we get dying holloway saying “please don’t forget me” and living holloway saying “you have to forget me”. oh and just to be cruel, both dukes saying “I could never forget you” at the same time :) stew on that for a bit. yeah. fuck you I guess lol I woke up and chose violence today apparently

the idea of the two of them finding each other again after that in some timelines is just gorgeous to me, especially given the fact that NMT3 seems to suggest them finding each other AGAIN after she needs to make him forget. truly star crossed lovers they are so insane for this

in summary I guess what I’m trying to say is I think it will include miss holloway’s full backstory and then be mostly set in 2005, and centre around the opening of the black and white portal (macnamara and wilbur), miss holloway meeting duke (wilbur murdering duke’s dad, possibly something with lex and hannah if duke was already a social worker) and eventually the big fight between holloway and wilbur, ending in the audience seeing both potential endings. also obviously a reference to hannah’s birth because that seemed to be some kind of catalyst. thank you for coming to my utterly deranged ted talk goodbye

[lizhly-writes]

hi. we're back to svsss again. i read Asymptotical's Many an Ill to Cure yesterday. There was this line that sort of caught in my head:

If this bit of lore was true, then Yue Qingyuan was married to Shang Qinghua of all people, and that was about the only matchup he could think of that was possibly worse than pairing Shen Qingqiu with Liu Qingge.

and my brain.... ran with it. not for very long, because i really don't have a GREAT grasp of these characters and also i should absolutely be doing something else. but here you go.

At the ripe old age of twenty-something, Shang Qinghua had successfully lied and cheated his ass off to become the An Ding Head Disciple. It absolutely didn't mean his troubles were over -- it was still An Ding, and An Ding always meant backbreaking work, no matter how high up you climbed, and haha also there was still the entire fucking plot left. But at least he had a really nice house now! At least people had to pretend to respect him! At least the System wouldn't keep that fucking countdown clock in the corner of his eye about how he had X months to make Head Disciple before it nuked his brain into a crisp!

Overall, things were going about as great as could be expected!

Except for, you know, this... this one little thing.

"What???" Shang Qinghua said, when Shizun had first lobbed it at his head.

The Lord of An Ding Peak looked askance at him. Shang Qinghua cleared his throat and tried again. "Begging this one's pardon, but... but could Shizun repeat that?"

"You'll be engaged to Yue Qingyuan," said the An Ding Peak Lord.

Yeah, that's what Shang Qinghua thought Shizun said.

FUCK!

This was his fault. Like, literally everything was his fault, seeing how he was effectively God, but this was a mistake that he didn't have to make! You could argue about the violence and the papapa, but in the end, he was speed-writing a stallion novel for money so he didn't starve.

But the engagement.

Airplane-Shooting-Towards-The-Sky had been trying to explain exactly why so many young, beautiful, cold cultivators were so eager to get with Bing-ge, even if they seemed to hate literally any other person ever. He'd eventually settled on the idea that in PIDW, even cultivators weren't truly respected as adults until they were married. In other words, marriage was a requirement! A spouse was a job position! Of course Bing-ge's wives would sell out for the best possible candidate, even if they were ambitious power-hungry snakes without a romantic bone in their body! Especially if they were ambitious power-hungry snakes without a romantic bone in their body!

In fact, even the Peak Lords of Cang Qiong did it! They were even married to each other! Even the Sect Leader! Haha, it wasn't so weird after all!

God. It would have been fine if he left it without explanation. It wasn't even like he kept the explanation -- no, he wrote it and forgot about it, just like how he did with half of the shit he wrote sleep-deprived and running on caffeine alone. And now he was stuck with this.

"Do you have any objections?" Shizun said, and then Shang Qinghua had to go noooo, of course not, Yue Qingyuan was a mighty and handsome cultivator who topped the unofficial rankings for most eligible bachelor on Cang Qiong for three years straight! How could this lowly Shang Qinghua possibly have any objections?

It was super lucky that Shen Qingqiu was too busy being engaged with Liu Qingge to murder Shang Qinghua for the affront.

Anyway, that was how Shang Qinghua had ended up here -- alone with Yue Qingyuan, sitting across from each other and drinking tea. There was a plate of delicately shaped cakes sitting between them that Shizun had heavily suggested Shang Qinghua should make. You know, to show off his culinary skills to his... his fiance.

“Shang-shidi," Yue Qingyuan said, turning a cake over in one hand. There was some muffled yelling in the background. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge were clearly having a great time of their own scheduled courtship meeting session.

"Yue-shixiong," Shang Qinghua said. "Hi."

Yue Qingyuan's smile didn't waver. "These are very good," he said politely.

Of course they were good. Shang Qinghua wouldn't have been able to successfully suck up to Shizun if they weren't good. It had taken a lot of practice! And sabotage! Practice AND sabotage!

"Haha, thanks," Shang Qinghua said.

Faintly, an explosion sounded in the background. Yue Qingyuan's brows furrowed slightly. "Shidi," he said. "Could you perhaps open the door?"

[vesppperoro]

Hello! I hope I don’t offend you or make you uncomfortable bc it’s my first time requesting to you, but can I request Sin of Envy reader x Sin of greed (Mammon)?? Into sure if you already did this, if you did you can ignore this!! Ty😓😓

Mammon x Sin of Envy!Reader

Includes: Mammon, Leviathan!Reader, Beel, Asmodeus.

A/N:Ur perfectly fine don’t worry at all!! This request doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all!! In fact, it’s quite adorable. They give enemies to lovers except they still hate each other lol. Enjoy!

As stated in one of the posts I’ve made about the sins and how they feel about Leviathan!Reader, you and Mammon HATED each other

You literally had the I.M.P. kill one of your own sinners because they leaked your ideas to him.

He ripped off your fame, so you despised him.

Your rivalry was known across the Greed Ring and the Envy Ring.

You both would rant about each other to anyone who would listen.

The Greed Ring hated you and the Envy Ring hated him.

You were more popular than him. He was jealous as hell.

But when you both attended Sin meetings either Lucifer, you two couldn’t help but steal glances at one another.

You didn’t understand why, and he didn’t either.

Maybe it was growing hatred. Why does hatred feel so good, though?

You always felt a weird sensation whenever you saw his posters. Whenever you saw whatever he was hosting.

A weird gut feeling you’ve never felt before surfaced.

It was the same for him. It made him hate you even more. What did you do to him?

Seeing your face on any posters made him blush. He secretly kept them in his room.

He didn’t know why.

You didn’t know why you felt this way either.

One day, you were ranting to Beelzebub and the topic of Mammon came up.

You started ranting and ranting. You lost track of everything you said until you heard your bestie gasp.

She stared at you like a deer in headlights.

“Levi, hunny, you’re in love!”

You immediately made a gagging noise. In LOVE?!

Sure, you’ve had hookups, but you’ve never been in love. Especially not with HIM.

“That might be why you hate ‘em so much. Your heart wants him but your brain doesn’t. Hah! Look at you go!”

Her mocking pissed you off.

Meanwhile, Mammon was ranting to one of his employees about you. Nothing unusual.

That was, until, he mentioned the weird feeling of you.

He nearly killed the bitch that brought up the possibility of him being in love with you.

But it made him think. Maybe he was.

But he would never admit it. He’s too cocky.

Now, anytime you two see each other, your looks of disgust towards one another grow more and more intense.

That was until the last Sin meeting with Lucifer.

Asmodeus was teasing Mammon and he brought up you.

“Awww. Are you in love with them???”

His lack of a response made the room go quiet.

You stared at him forever. Until Lucifer just.. dismissed you guys.

Mammon pulled you aside and roughly confessed that it was true.

“Maybe I am in love with you, bitch.”

And that’s how you two started dating.

Your relationship was kept a secret, since everyone thought that the both of you despised each other.

Whenever he put on a show, you shape-shifted to fit in and watched his shows.

He did the same for you.

Afterwards, you two would meet up somewhere private and playfully tease each other.

You two act like an old married couple but with more hatred. That hatred comes from the love you two discovered you had for one another.

You killed anyone who even dared to look at Mammon the same way you looked at him. That’s the price to pay for being with the Sin of Envy.

He made fun of anyone who liked you too. He was ruder, but he didn’t normally kill them unless pushed too far.

You both secretly shared a bed together. One that nobody found out about.

He also spoiled the hell out of you.

You were even more lenient towards your people whenever they went into the Greed Ring.

It confused them.

Anyways. You two are VERY playfully mean to each other.

“Shut your mouth, bitch.”

“Kill yourself, cunt.”

But you both knew you weren’t serious. Not anymore, anyways.

He’s the little spoon. He won’t admit it at all, but you’re definitely the dominant one in the relationship.

Anyways. You two have fancy as hell dates. Anyone who says anything will be killed on the spot.

Your relationship remains a secret. Anyone who knew would be killed.

That was, until, it got out by Asmodeus or Fizz.

Now everyone knows.

But you two don’t really care.

Now, you affection is displayed openly.

[pocketramblr]

An AU where Izuku said yes to Shoto when he asked if All Might was his father!

Have I done something like this before? Probably. Am I going to go back through every ask game to see it? Nah

1. Izuku doesn't know why he said yes. He's not even sure if he said yes, because it felt more like a squawk to him before he covered up his mouth, but Todoroki is nothing and saying he knew it before going on about quirk marriages, and asking if that's where he came from too, and he can only shake his head which at least is true, but why is he asking??

2- "I figured All Might wouldn't have sunk to that low." Todoroki nods. "And if he had, he would have done a better job than my father. Your quirk is strong, it feels just like All Might's, but your body isn't built to handle it just like my oldest brother's body wasn't built to handle hellfire." Izuku has many questions. Apparently the oldest brother is dead and when he says he's sorry, Todoroki just says it happened a long time ago and he didn't really know him. He doesn't really know his other brother either, and Fuyumi only since their mother was hospitalized after burning his face and she took over. Izuku has even more questions just as many concerns. Todoroki is trying to answer them while also getting to his vow thing, since Izuku did answer his question at the start.

3. Around the corner, Bakugou is eavesdropping and totally not freaking out too. Yes, he's wracking his brain to remember any detail about Izuku's family- he knows Izuku's mom is an old classmate and friend of Bakugou's dad, remembers that Masaru called Inko one year to invite Izuku to Katsuki's birthday party, and then Katsuki had thrown a fit and Mitsuki had declared he'd deal with it if he wanted any gifts at all and swore to invite Izuku personally next time, but a year later had seemed to have forgotten about the threat and Masaru didn't try again. He vaguely remembers a woman with green hair. But surely, if Masaru knew his friend had bagged All Might, he would have said something. But he might not have known. But no, because Izuku can't be All Might's kid, because he would have said something. Had he ever mentioned his father? Bakugou was pretty sure the guy worked abroad, but maybe he was remembering something another old classmate had said instead?? Except none of that made sense, because Izuku was quirkless. And also had told him his quirk had been given to him. Which also made no sense!! Bakugou decides the answer is simple: Izuku is lying, either to him, to Todoroki, or to both of them. And he's going to find out the truth. After he beats both of them at the SF. Priorities after all.

4- After the fight with Todoroki, Izuku is in a hospital bed while Toshi looks over him. He wants to tell him everything, but is afraid of breaking Todoroki's trust. But Izuku's lie about his father involves Toshinori, so... He tells Toshi about what Shoto asked, that their quirks felt the same, and about his brother. Dimly, Toshi thinks it's kinda weird of Endeavor to push a kid to use fire when he's doing pretty well with ice, considering uh fire is the one that killed his older son, but most of his brainpower is being used to focus on "secret lovechild". And then he gets very apologetic because he's sure Izuku cares for his real father very much, except when he says that Izuku just shrugs and goes "eh I don't really think about him, haven't seen him in years" which means.... Free Son.

5- Bakugou derails his fight with Todoroki not to insist on him using his fire, but on him saying that obviously All Might isn't Izuku's father. Todoroki points out that the obvious connection, but Bakugou hasn't been around to hear any of the lunch invitations, and since he started investigating this mystery, uh, two hours ago, all he found was this weird tall blond skeleton hanging out around Izuku. Surely if he was All Might's son, All Might would have shown up to wish him luck. Or, you know, at any point at all in their childhoods. And really, he's known Izuku for most of his life, does Todoroki really think he's figured the guy out in a few weeks? (This whole conversation is happening while explosions and ice are flying, btw.) Todoroki just stares at him, and points on that on the first day of school, the whole class saw Bakugou flip out and act like Izuku was "supposed to be quirkless", so of course Todoroki didn't think Bakugou actually knew Izuku that well, if it all. Bakugou is blindsided enough by this that a bit of ice pushes him just over the lines. On the second place podium, he's got a very blank expression. When All Might leans in to put the medal on him, Bakugou quietly asks about Izuku, and Toshi's denial is suspicious enough to be confirmation. Bakugou fully bluescreens. Todoroki, meanwhile, tosses his first place medal to Izuku before leaving the pitch that day, because he doesn't want his father to be happy about having that in the house, and because he sorta owes it to him after helping him work through his issues. Izuku gives the medal to Uraraka, who pawns it off, sends half the money to her parents, and spends the rest of it taking her friends out to a celebratory dinner, which Izuku and Shoto and Tsu enjoy immensely. You'd think the person having the worst time that night is Tenya, at the hospital by his brother's side, but actually it's Bakugou who's interrogated his father for anything he's ever heard about Inko's husband and is trying to figure out if an affair with All Might or her and the real Izuku selling his identity to All Might's actual son is more likely.