#part of me still wants to be huddled under the blankets in my room with the world quiet and still outside

[xkaisxjazzxsingerx]

studies and spooky season ₊˚⊹♡

after a long school day, tate misses you and wants your attention 🖤

word count: 1.8k

warnings!! smut, nsfw content, oral (m receiving), nipple play

this is my first smut fanfic let alone fic in general, so I hope it's not too bad ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

You never knew what you would do without Tate. Sure he could get quite controlling sometimes, and deep down he would always have a hint of his psychotic roots- but a sick twisted part of you didn't mind. It was wrong, disgusting even how you were able to just push aside all of his past murders and grotesque crimes. The boy was fucked up in the head, but you loved him in an odd way. And although it took years of countless arguments, you learned to be patient with each other and leave the past behind. In your eyes, Tate was perfect as he was. You didn't feel the need to ‘fix’ him. You loved him for who he was. You were always so gentle with him, and even though it took time, you eventually were able to bring out the sweet side of the boy. The boy who you adored.

Currently, it was a cold October night. Tate had spent the majority of his day moping around the house, feeling incredibly ignored by you. You couldn't help it that your teacher had sprung a test on you at the last second- but Tate took it personally. All night you had been locked in your room typing away endlessly. You were huddled under a thick duvet and pile of blankets, your chromebook rested in your lap- the faint aroma of vanilla smoke clouded the air of your room from the candle you had previously lit. Lana Del Rey’s melancholic voice echoed throughout the room. To say the least, you were in the zone and completely oblivious to Tate's loneliness.

Speaking of the blonde haired boy, Tate was currently pacing around downstairs, letting out frustrated huffs and groans. The last thing he wanted to be was a bother- he didn't want to annoy you or distract you from your studies. But deep down, a selfish part of him wanted you all to himself. All he wanted to do was curl up next to you and have your undivided attention. But how? You seemed so busy.. you probably didn't even want to see him right now. He sighed. He was so damn pathetic. Slowly he walked up the stairs, gaining the courage to open your door and enter the gloomy small space that was your room.

You didn't even look up at first, still typing away. “Yea?” You asked, your voice distracted and paying no attention to your needy boyfriend.

Tate didn't say anything at first, just looking up at you with those wide, deep brown eyes. He seemed a little shocked you wouldn't even look at him. All he wanted was your love.. and you weren't giving it to him. Not one bit. He let out a deep ragged sigh, standing there awkwardly.

“Y/N..” He pleaded, his voice soft yet filled with longing. “C'mon.. can you just take a small break for me? You've been cooped up in here all night..”

As soon as you heard Tate's words, you sighed, shutting your chromebook slightly to look up at him. “What do you want, Tate? I have a test tomorrow, can't you just wait an hour for me to finish studying?”

Tate flinched at your harsh tone, looking down at the floor in shame. He remained silent for a moment, and then looked up at you again with sad, teary eyes. “I'm sorry.. I missed you, that's all..” He mumbled. He felt stupid for being this clingy, but it was true. He had been waiting for you to come home from school all day just for you to ignore him. The poor boy couldn't help but take it personally.

After a long moment of silence, you sighed. Shutting your chromebook in defeat, you gestured for him to lie down next to you. “..fine. C’mere, Tate. Ten minutes.” You tried to remain firm with your words, but couldn't help the small smile forming on your lips. A break couldn't hurt, right? As long as you finished your studies later that night anyway. You couldn't resist when he looked at you like that.

Tate perked up slightly and didn't hesitate to join you in bed, slowly walking over and curling up next to you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and let out a soft exhale. “I missed you so much..” He mumbled into your soft skin, planting a gentle kiss on your collarbone.

You smiled, letting out a soft hum in response and nodding. “I know.. I know.. I'm here now though, don't worry.” You murmured. You wrapped an arm around him, holding your ghost boyfriend close. “You must have been so lonely.. I'm sorry baby.”

Tate sighed softly and nodded in agreement. His kisses on your neck grew a little more sensual, and he slowly worked his way down to your cleavage. “It's okay.. I don't mind now.” He paused, his dark eyes flickering up to you as he thought of an idea. “You could make it up to me though..” the blonde murmured suggestively, a small smirk on his lips.

You paused, and then realized what he was indicating. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Is that right?”

Tate nodded, that damn smirk still plastered on his lips. With feeble hands he began to unbutton your top, exposing your bra and giving him more access to your breasts. You helped him out, pulling your shirt up over your head and tossing it somewhere across the room. You giggled, watching him struggle to unhook your bra. After many months, he still couldn't figure it out quite. Tate cursed under his breath in frustration and once he finally unclasped the undergarment he tossed it across the room, adding to the small pile of your now undressed clothes.

He took one of your perky nipples into his lips, suckling eagerly while his free hand molded the other soft flesh. “Mhm.. it would be.. amazing... if you could…y'know.. make up for that..” he agreed in a teasing mumble between kisses.

You let out a soft moan, rolling your head back into the pillows and grasping at Tate's blonde curls. You were so glad your parents weren't home tonight. “T-tate-” you gasped quietly.

He chuckled, feeling an odd sense of pride that he was the one easing those sinful sounds out of you. After a few moments he detached his puffy lips from your tit to glance up at you with half lidded, dreamy eyes. “I need you y/n.. so bad..” He groaned, a hint of a whine in his voice.

You giggled a little at how needy he was acting and sat upright. “I'm right here, my love..” You teased, although it was clear what he wanted. Especially from the obvious raging boner in his jeans.

Tate groaned again, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean.. please y/n, no teasing.. I've been a good boy, I've been waiting all day..” he whimpered, rolling his hips into the mattress to ease his hard, desperate cock.

You chuckled lightheartedly and nodded, finally giving in. “I know, I knoww, m'sorry baby. Just help me and take those jeans off, boxers too. We gotta make this quick, I have a test tomorrow y'know.” You reminded, but your tone was playful and loving.

Tate nodded and obeyed without hesitation, quickly unzipping his jeans and rolling them down to his ankles along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his tummy softly. His tip was an angry red hue, leaking tiny beads of precum. Tate let out another small whimper, bucking his hips up desperately and looking at you with wide pleading eyes.

Your eyes widened a little, and you couldn't help but feel your mouth water. No matter how many times you have seen him like this, Tate never failed to surprise you. And turn you on. You could already feel a damp sticky mess forming in your panties. You slowly inched closer to the boy, getting down on your knees for him. You looked at him with innocent, fluttering eyes before enveloping the tip around your lips. You suckled gently, swirling your tongue around the leaking head and savoring the taste of his salty precum.

Tate's mouth fell open and he let out an embarrassingly loud whimper as soon as he felt your soft lips around his cock. With a shaky hand he tangled his fist around your hair, trying to be gentle despite how desperate he was for that sweet release. He groaned and bucked his hips up into your mouth. “Agh- fuck-”

You let out a muffled moan and gladly took in more of him, at least as much as your throat would let you. You felt yourself gag slightly around his dick, but you were determined to stay strong and make him cum. After a few moments you began to bob your head up and down, taking him deep to the point where you felt his tip touch the back of your throat. Your jaw would definitely be sore in a few days..

Tate was letting out pretty little groans and whimpers above you, holding onto your hair tighter than you would have liked- but you didn't mind currently. You were too busy sucking the life out of the poor boy. He continued to thrust up into your mouth as he let out soft babbles of incoherent praise. After a few long minutes of this, he felt that hot coil in his lower abdomen ready to snap. “Ah- ahhhh fuck baby- you keep that up and I'm gonna fuckin’ cum-” He warned, his breathing growing labored.

You ignored his protests and moans, continuing to suck his dick like a lollipop. The thick smell of sex and your smokey vanilla candle filled the room, and the only sound was Tate's loud moans and your filthy gags and slurps underneath him. You looked up at the ghost with half lidded, innocent eyes, as if giving him permission to cum.

Finally, Tate whimpered loudly and with one final thrust into your mouth he came. Thick ropes of cum released deep down your throat, and you were forced to swallow every last drop. After a few moments Tate’s grip on your hair loosened and his thrusts came to a halt as he slowly pulled out, his dick leaving your lips with a ‘pop.’

You let out a shaky exhale once you could finally fully breathe, and wiped the remaining spit and cum from the corner of your mouth. You looked up at him and smiled a little, giving your boyfriend a small kiss before pulling away.

“Worth the wait?”

“More than worth it, baby.”

[wizard-on-whales]

Blue Jean Baby

You can't sleep due to a storm ranging outside so James softly sings you to sleep

No warnings :)

✭-----------------------------✭

The pattering of rain against the window was normally a sound that would lull you to sleep, but tonight was different as you lay there huddled under the sheets. The high winds were howling outside along with the loud, not so distant thunder booming every few minutes. You were usually not scared of storms, you had always loved them, but tonight you couldn't shake the anxiety that pooled in my stomach. Beside you, James was sleeping soundly, his mouth parted slightly as soft snores escaped his lips. You could never understand how he could sleep through just about everything, but you assumed it was from years of being trapped on a tour bus and falling asleep backstage at concerts. Another crack of lighting filled the dark room as you peered through the small crack in the curtains hanging on the window above the bed. You braced myself for the loud sound that followed it, scooting closer to James to try to find some comfort. He didn't stir as you moved his arm off of his stomach so that you could lay against him. You tangled your legs with his and wrapped your arm tightly around his waist, trying to listen to the calming sound of his heart beating in your ear. Another unexpected bang caused you to flinch, this time, James' arm moved, wrapping around your shoulder. You stayed wrapped tightly around him, trying to hold back the tears that welled in your eyes. You felt like a helpless child as your body shivered slightly from anxiety.

“Hey, what's wrong, baby,” James' tired voice filled your ears as his arms wrapped further around you, pulling you close. You glanced up towards him, seeing him struggling to keep his eyes open as he fought with sleep.

“It's nothin', go back to sleep,” You try to encourage him, not wanting to admit a storm is what's keeping you up. You could tell James could see right through the lie though.

“The storm scaring you?” He asked, running his hand through your hair, scratching your scalp in the soothing manner he knew you loved. You nodded my head in response, not wanting to admit it out loud. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it further over you, tucking it over your shoulders before changing positions. He moved to his side, scooping you into his arms as he pulled you tightly against his chest. Another bang rang out in the distance, causing you to flinch again and cling to his touch.

“It's alright, it'll pass soon,” James says quietly in your ear, kissing the skin just below it. His thumb gently wiped a stray tear off of your cheek before kissing it.

“Can you sing?” You ask him shyly, looking at him best you could through the dark room. James snickers a little, running his hand gently through your hair.

“Yeah, I'll sing, baby. What do you want me to sing?” He smiles gently, his tired voice filling your ears as he speaks.

“Can you sing our song?” James nods gently, his hand still playing with your hair as he quietly starts to sing the lyrics to Tiny Dancer by Elton John. It was the song we had danced to at our wedding, one he had always had a soft spot for.

“Blue jean baby, L.A lady, seamstress for the band,” James sings softly, a small smile on his face as he holds his gaze with yours, his thumb now gently stroking your cheek.

“Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man,” James laughs quietly as he sings, watching you with delicate eyes. The sounds of the storms fade in your ears, your focus solely on him now. Your eyes start to feel heavy so you close them, tucking your head politely under his chin. He moves his hand to your back, gently rubbing it as he continues to quietly sing to you.

“But oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near,” He pauses for a moment just to place a tender against your forehead. You felt sleep start to overtake you, the storm no longer on your mind.

“Only you, and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly,” He notices that you've fallen asleep but he continues to sing to you for a few more moments.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” He says to you, placing one last kiss on your forehead, pulling you closer into his arms and falling back asleep himself, a smile etched across his features.

[libraryofolive]

𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼

Featuring: Hiromi Higuruma x gn!reader Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 729 Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fics here! Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here! Synopsis: Your husband comforts you when the negative aspects of life get a little too much.

It was eerily quiet when Hiromi Higuruma returned home from work one cold, wintery evening. His suit jacket had a smattering of rain drops across his shoulders - he was lucky enough to only be caught in the ongoing rainstorm for the short walk from his car to the apartment building. He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, sighing deeply as he removed his shoes, as if expelling that deep breath would also remove the stresses of the day. He called your name out softly into the dark apartment, but received no answer. Odd. You always greeted him when he got home, it was one of his favourite parts of the day. Coming home to a warm apartment, being greeted by your even warmer smile, it was enough to make him forget about everything else in the world. He called your name out again, louder this time, but still no response. Then he heard a sniffle coming from your joint bedroom.

He knocked on the closed door. “Sweetheart?” He asked gently, “Can I come in?”

“Hiro?” You voice was muffled through the wooden door, but he could hear the sadness in it. He pushed the door open, peering through the small crack he made. You were sat on the bed, huddled in piles of blankets that dwarfed your figure. Your eyes were puffy, cheeks stained with tears. You had been crying for a while, intending to take a shower and clean yourself up before your husband got home, but evidently time had gotten away from you as your emotions overflowed and overwhelmed you. You looked up at him, fresh tears glinting in your eyes and mouth pulled down into a frown. Your lip trembled as a new round of sobs racked your body, causing Higuruma to rush into the room, sitting on the bed next to you and pulling you into his side, under his arm. You leant into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it, my love?” You shook your head furiously. “I’m here for you, always. You can talk to me about anything, honey. I love you, I want to help you.” He rubbed small, comforting circles into you waist, heart breaking at the sight in front of him. What could possibly make you so distraught? Ever since the two of you met, you had been this positive light, shining brightly onto everyone around you. To him, you were sunshine incarnate, and he wanted nothing but to bask in your rays of warmth for the rest of his life. So when he saw you like this, his sun hidden behind a dark cloud, tears streaming down your cheeks like rainfall, he couldn’t help but share your sadness.

“I just-” Your words were broken with sobs as you struggled to form them, “I don’t know.” You cried.

“Don’t know what, love?”

“Don’t know why.” You rubbed your face harshly, frustrated that your tears wouldn’t stop falling. Your husband wouldn’t have this, though, so instead gently took hold of your hands with one of his and kissed them, bringing them down to his lap and not letting go of you.

“It’s okay, honey.”

“No- I- I don’t know. I was fine! Then I came home, and I just - just broke down.”

“Life catches up to us all like this, baby. You don’t have to worry about the why just yet. Let it all out, yeah?” He brought your head into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“’m sorry, Hiro.” You mumbled into his sturdy chest.

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Hiromi kissed the top of your head lovingly.

“Not cooked.” You admitted.

“Don’t go and worry about that. Why don’t we order in your favourite, yeah? As a pick-me-up?” He tucked one of his hands under your chin, slowly lifting it so he could look into your tear-lined eyes. You smiled slightly at his suggestion, nodding. “There’s that lovely smile. I’ll go order, yeah? Why don’t you go and wash your face, and we can cuddle on the couch.”

“Love you.” Your words were barely audible, yet your husband heard them loud and clear.

“I love you too, sunshine. More than you could possibly know.”

[joelscurls]

fallen into place

an epilogue to my feel it in your bones series (part i | part ii)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.3k

summary: It's the one year anniversary of the day you & Joel met. Your plans to celebrate are soured by poor weather - but Joel doesn't let that ruin your day.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, smut (allusions to piv sex, but nothing explicit)

a/n: thank you a million times over to everyone who left nice comments on the first two parts of this series; every single one has made me smile like an idiot :') and ty as always to my beta & muse @caffeinated-validation <3 enjoy this lil epilogue!

The windows of the old farmhouse groan, rain pelting the glass and an angry wind jostling the frames. A draft slips in through a gap in the wood, the one Joel’s been meaning to fix, and you reflexively pull the blanket that’s wrapped around your body tighter, snugger. 

Through fogged panes, you can barely make out the sheep in the pasture where they’re huddled together, their bodies distorted by bulbous raindrops. You watch as a couple break off from the herd, blurs of white floating toward the fence line like grounded clouds.

The kettle on the stovetop squeals, quiet at first, then louder, and you pad out of the dining room, into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. The percolator on the nearby counter gurgles away, still working on Joel’s coffee.

The day has been all but thrown away, thanks to the weather.

You and Joel had planned to celebrate your anniversary: one year since meeting under the fluorescent white lights of the lecture hall, all fidgety hands and warm cheeks.

He’d wanted to take you out, back to the lounge you’d gone to that first night, to sip whiskeys again and reminisce.

You’d wanted to cuddle up together on one of the large, leather armchairs and kiss him the way you had then, just with a bit more purpose, this time.

But a tree had fallen at the entrance of Joel’s dead-end road early this morning, the fractured trunk stretching from one shoulder to another. 

The loud thud of it had jolted you from a sound sleep, causing you to seek refuge in Joel’s strong, impregnable arms as he’d continued snoring away.

It was only when he’d stirred a few hours later that he’d called the town and learned they wouldn’t be able to remove it until later today, at the earliest.

And so, you’re stuck at his house — at least for the time being. 

When the percolator seizes, you pour the contents into Joel’s favorite mug, the one Sarah had gotten him as a housewarming gift. The speckling on the dark green ceramic makes it look as if it’s been handmade and fired in a kiln. The front is appropriately adorned with the Vermont state seal. 

You leave the coffee black — his preference — and bring it, along with your tea, into the living room where Joel is splayed across the couch, reading some book about the history of homesteading. 

You’re quiet when you enter. It gives you the opportunity to marvel at his concentrated face, his brows furrowed and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he scans the pages. He traces under the words with his thumb, so as not to inadvertently lose his place.

He finally notices you when you sink into the cushion by his feet and place his mug down on the coffee table in front of him. He swings his legs around and sits upright to make more room for you. 

“Thanks, baby,” he says, dog-earing the page he’s on and setting the book down on the arm of the couch. 

He buries a gracious kiss in your hair and reaches for the coffee, not bothering to let it cool before he takes his first sip. He hisses. Curses under his breath. 

You shake your head in amusement as you settle into plush upholstery, your cup still steaming away on the table. 

Joel grunts. He puts the mug back down in defeat and resumes reading

You decide to sift through your emails. You grab your laptop from your nearby work bag and settle back into the couch with it propped atop your knees. 

You open your inbox. A new message from your well-intentioned, but neurotic colleague sits at the very top, received 20 minutes ago. She’s requesting any final advice for facilitating a fun and informative Open House, since you aren’t volunteering at Homecoming this year. 

You don’t have any fresh insight to provide, so you just copy and paste the last email you sent to her, which she’d never responded to, and add a see below to the top of the message.

Most of the remaining unread emails are from students, a few begging for an extension on their midterm that’s due Monday, another asking how to access their assigned reading for the nth time.

You check to make sure the link to said reading in the syllabus is still working. It is.

A garbled, frustrated sort of noise forms at the bottom of your throat. Joel looks up from his book. Cocks a brow at you in silent question: you okay?

You groan. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just stressed. Annoyed. I can’t believe I’m checking emails right now when we’re supposed to be celebrating.” 

He leans forward. Presses the laptop shut before you can protest. “Then stop,” he offers. 

Joel is a perceptive person, more so than most people give him credit for. His usual persona, the one everyone else sees, characterized by indifferent grumbles and petulant grimaces, is a facade. Because in truth, he’s observant. Caring. He can read you better than the book in his lap with just a scan of his eyes.

He knows just what you need at all times. And right now, he can tell you need to relax.

“Darlin’,” he starts. Waits until you look at him. Until your muscles slacken and he knows you’re listening. 

“I know this isn't ideal. But we’re gonna make the best of it, okay?” 

You nod. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” You watch him think for a moment, gaze fixed absently on the far corner of the room. “You’re gonna go upstairs and take a bath. Put on one ‘a those cucumber things-” 

“A face mask?”

“Yeah, that. And you’re gonna stay upstairs until I tell you to come down. Alright?” 

You want to crack some wise remark about feeling like Rapunzel. But a bath sounds good right now. Great, actually. So you nod again. Say, “okay”. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Go relax, babygirl.”

You bring your untouched cup of tea with you. It rests on the windowsill next to the clawfoot tub as you wait for the basin to fill with water. You undress, apply a few squeezes of the facemask you keep stashed at the back of Joel’s medicine cabinet just in case. Then you get into the bath, sighing immediately at the feel of warm water lapping at your skin. 

You sink into it, let your head rest against porcelain as your eyes fall shut. 

You stay there until your fingers prune and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. When you stand, the water draining at your feet, you glance out the window and notice that the rain has let up, at least enough that you can actually see the pasture below. 

Joel is there, you realize, his stocky figure leaning against the fence, observing the sheep as they graze. He remains there for a few minutes, and you watch, entranced by him even from a distance.  Water drip-drip-drips off of your body and circles the drain.

When he retreats back toward the house, you step out of the bath. The floor below you vibrates as you towel yourself off, the way it does whenever the front door shuts. You hear the clomp of Joel’s boots against the hardwood as he makes his way inside.

He doesn’t come up. Which means you can’t come down yet, according to his instructions. So you wash your facemask off before wrapping yourself up in Joel’s bathrobe, the bottom hem grazing the floor as you saunter into his room and flop down onto the bed. 

You spend the next hour scrolling mindlessly on your phone, bookmarking recipes that look appetizing slash easy, and cute cat videos to show Joel. You figure if you show him enough, he’ll break and get himself one. 

You need a barncat, you’d told him. You can’t have a barn without a barncat. 

He’d questioned your logic. But he hadn’t said no, not explicitly, anyway.

You refresh your feed for what must be the tenth time this afternoon. Another video of a cat. This one tries to jump onto the top of the fridge from its place on the floor and misses by a longshot. Your laughter fizzles quickly. You’re getting bored. 

You lug yourself off the bed with an exaggerated huff and tiptoe out of Joel’s room to the top of the stairs. He’s playing music, the faint notes of a Johnny Cash song filtering up the balustrade. The smell of garlic follows on its heels, wafting directly into your nostrils and your stomach growls. He’s cooking. 

Joel isn’t a chef by any means. But ever since moving to Vermont, he’s really embraced farm life, sourcing eggs from a neighbor and milk from another. You’d even gotten him a book full of farm-to-table recipes for his birthday, and he’s cracked into it more than once already.

The thought of him referencing it right now to prepare an anniversary dinner for you makes you swoon. Suddenly, you’re very impatient. 

“Can I come down yet?,” you call out. 

You’re not sure if Joel will hear you over the music. But he appears at the bottom of the stairs less than ten seconds later, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. It’s marked with an orange, splotchy stain.

“Nice robe,” he smirks. Leans against the railing. “Two minutes, okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your heart rate quickening at the sight of him looking so domestic. “I’ll go get changed and come down.” 

“Or you could just keep that on,” he drawls. “Look good in my clothes.”

Warmth blooms at the base of your neck. 

“Wait,” you say. “Stay there.”

You feel his eyes on you as you turn and slink down the hall, back to his room. 

You change out of the robe, into one of his flannels and a pair of sleep shorts that you’d stuffed at the bottom of your overnight bag. Then you return to the top of the stairs. 

Joel groans when he sees you. “Get down here,” he growls. You feign innocence, toying with the buttons on his shirt. 

He tracks you like a wolf as you descend, his love for you in his clothes visible by the growing bulge in his pants. You move to grope him when you reach the bottom step and he stops you with a large hand wrapped loosely around your wrist. 

“Dinner,” he reminds you. His voice comes out pained, like if he hadn’t been slaving away in the kitchen for the past hour, he wouldn’t be so adamant. 

“Wait here for a sec,” he says. He adjusts himself and disappears into the kitchen. There’s a series of worrying clangs on the other side of the wall. You hear one of the burners on the stove click off. 

You stand patiently, soundtracked by the sounds of footsteps and clattering dishware. 

And then Joel reappears, outstretching a hand. You take it. Follow him.

It’s dark in the house, the sun having set by now. You try your best not to trip over your own feet and wonder why Joel hasn’t turned any lights on. 

Your question is answered sooner than you can voice it, when you round the corner to the dining room and see what he’s done.

He’s gone all out, two small candles lit at the center of the table next to a bouquet of wildflowers from the edge of his property, arranged in a clear glass vase. On either placemat are steaming plates of pasta, garnished with tomato sauce and fresh basil. You’re practically drooling as you sit down opposite him.

And then there’s the bottle of wine, red, label turned away from you. You twist it around. The name is illegible in the dim candlelight. 

Joel clears his throat. Takes your hand in his on the tabletop. 

“It’s uh – it’s the same one I brought to your apartment that time. The first time.” 

You blink hard. Your brain works to catch up with what he’s just said.

And then you’re all but leaping across the table, catching him in an earnest kiss. 

“Joel,” you say, gesturing to the plates, the wine, the candles. “This is amazing.”

You swear you catch him blush. It’s difficult to tell in the dark.

“‘Ts nothin’,” he retorts. “Less than you deserve. I know you were lookin’ forward to celebratin’ properly.” 

“Hey,” you squeeze his hand. “This is perfect. Better than perfect.” 

Now you know he’s blushing. He attempts to cover it up by bringing the bottle in front of his face, pouring you both a glass.

Joel’s pasta is delicious. You devour it, have to stop yourself from licking the plate clean when you’re done. After dinner, you retreat to the living room where Joel throws a few fresh logs on the hearth and lights it.

He tires quickly of his flannel cloaking your body, and plucks the buttons open one by one until you’re on display for him. Then he lays you down by the roaring fire and makes love to you, heat from the flames licking at your exposed chest as he takes you apart.

You’ve never felt so loved. 

It dawns on you in the afterglow, heart rabbiting in your chest and thighs soaked with arousal — Joel is everything —  your past year, your present, your forever. An immense contentedness settles in you, deep in your being. Unshakable; impenetrable.

As Joel lays next to you, stroking calloused fingers lazily along the length of your arm, forehead shiny with sweat, you sigh. 

“What is it, darlin?,” he asks. 

“Nothing,” you say. “Just feel really lucky.” 

“Nah,” he whispers. He caresses the curve of your jaw gently, like he thinks you’ll break if he’s any less tender. Like he’s forgetting the way his body just ravaged yours. “I’m the lucky one.”

You let him have this one — at least on the outside. Inside, you’re making a list of all the ways Joel has sweetened your life: his kind soul, his expert touch, his deep, unwavering love for you. You add to it until the slowing of his heart and his loosened grip on your face distract you.

And then you lose count.

end notes: ty for reading! please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you liked it <3 til next time!

series tag list:  @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @cassiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Box

I am in a box. Such is the nature of things, of course. Boxes are a part of life, just like blood and tears and screams into a pillow at 3am.

My box was comfortable, once. I had worn little dents in it, so long I was huddled inside. It was stretched and bent in all the right places, like a snug blanket about my shoulders. It fit me just right, with only my face poking out, for me to see and smell and speak. Even as I grew, it expanded to fit me, stretching as far as it could, ripping and popping at the seams to fit me. I liked that box, old though it was.

But all boxes are doomed to break apart. That, too, is the nature of things. I had grown and elbowed and torn the box apart, emerging from it like an unwilling butterfly. My wings were wet and I could not fly.

So I waited, shivering in the agoraphobic open. I waited for my wings to dry, for me to regain my strength, for a chance to show the world how I had grown. I waited until I could take it no more, and fled. The bitterness was too cold, the misery too wet, the agony too painful to bear.

I came upon a new box. No, that is wrong. I had a box thrust upon me. That was also the nature of things, much like the friction burns on my shoulders and the sores on my thighs and the scabs on my knees.

I do not like this new box. It hurts. Every breath I take makes my chest press against its walls, like a boa constrictor of my own making. Every movement I make scrapes and rubs my skin raw from the box's rough innards, as though I were a chunk of wood to be sanded. Every word I say comes at the cost of my hearing, of my sight, of my dear senses, as I press my lips to the box's tiny opening like I were blowing the world a goodbye kiss.

The box does not bend or dent. No, it is far too strong for that. Instead it crushes my ribs, bending soft flesh until I am the one being molded into its image. My wings cannot dry, in the damp confines of the box, so they grow mold and mildew. I feel them crumple, itching and prickling with rot. I rub my back against the sandpaper of the box, scrubbing my wings away. It is the only acceptable movement I can make, this self-mutilation, so I do it until my wings are bloody stumps and I can never fly again. Still I must move, even as my spine realigns itself to fit the box's interior, even as my legs putrefy and deteriorate from lack of use, as my arms shrivel up and the bones go hollow.

There is not enough room to exist in the box, but still I try.

It is all my fault, of course. Had I not breathed too deep or moved too much, I would not have hurt quite so badly. Had I stayed good and silent and hunched over in my box, I would have been just fine. Had I not worn my previous box to shreds and grown out of it, I would still be happy, back in my old box. I have nobody to blame but myself.

But blame I do, suffocating as I speak, gasping for air and refusing to give up. Words tumble out of my mouth senselessly, knives sharp enough to pierce the walls of my claustrophobic box. They pierce the people who put me into that box, irritating them with little paper-cuts. They pierce the ones I love the most, driving them away. They pierce my own heart, and I accept my fate.

Such is the nature of things, after all.

Taglist under cut:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[ramcharantitties]

Can i get some reassurance from RRR Ram? Your other women fic broke me. Please 🙏😭

HAGSHSJS My late night thoughts are heartbreaking sorry.

Other Woman part 2

You couldn't sleep. It was freezing. The blanket provided no warmth, no matter how many times you wrapped it around your body and cuddled in. It was about to be six, the sunlight gone two hours ago. You wished winter to go away. Why does winter have to come anyways? You wished it would be summer or fall or spring the whole time, the golden Sun always evident and the clouds white and fuzzy. The green trees or brown leaves swaying, and you didn't have to huddle under heaps of clothes to feel a tad bit warm. You sniffled and coughed, feeling dizzy. A flu in winters, it gives you enough body pain. But there was no more pain in your heart. It has been four months since that... incident. You sneezed, blowing in your small towel. There was no one around to get you any tea or soup, to give warmth.

You won't stop shivering, your teeth clattering. You knew you would settle down in a while, but still it was too cold to even peak your finger out.

Neighbours asked when Ram didn't come home for days. It was easy to lie, "it's something confidential, I don't understand his job" and a fake laugh. For the first few weeks, all you did was cry. You'd fall crying when making lunch, you slept late and woke up later, dark circles prominent. You'd start crying as you bathed, warm tears settling on wet lips. You lost your appetite. You haven't opened your gates, or went out in days, only when the milkman arrived. You went out to the market, once, but you didn't want to be there. You felt uneasy and since then, you secluded yourself to your room. How could your own husband do that? But then the fog settled and the cold mist formed around the leaves. It happened because you weren't enough. Because Ram might be an ideal husband, but your selfishness drove him away. It was better to be alone.

There was a numbness in your heart and the cold brought that numbness in your fingers. Ram knew that cold was your biggest enemy. He'd pamper you by getting you all sorts of hot dishes and never let you out of blankets without proper sweaters and socks on. You never, ever had a flu or cold when Ram was here. There was a special blanket he kept above the cupboard that instantly warmed you, but Ram wasn't here anymore. You pulled your blanket up, your only source of warmth.

You weren't sure if you heard the gate creaking. It was locked from inside, so anyone with a key can open it. Since there were only two keys, one with Ram, it must be the cold wind. Even thinking about it made you shiver.

The cold wouldn't go away, but there was nothing you could do. Losing the battle, you surrendered to the only blankets you had over. Until you hear the plastic and zipping noises in the room. You shot straight up, only to see him, opening the plastic cover that held his special blanket.

All the shivering left your body, as you zoomed out of your blankets. You pulled the sweater closer. "What are you doing here?" You kept your distance, hugging yourself closer. Ram left the packet on the bed, his fingers ghosting the cover. He stared at you, up and down. "You've gotten thinner."

Your jaw dropped at his statement. There are things more important right now. "Ramaraju, what are you doing here?" You asked again. Ram physically winced at his full name being taken, especially by you. Ram continued unzipping the blanket, and pulled the heavy cloth out. You stared at him in disbelief. A cheater can't come home and act like nothing happened.

"Y/n I came to get you back. It took me two months to realise that I made a mistake. That the woman I loved will always be the one for me and I should have been there, fighting those wrong feelings and protecting you like a good husband instead of giving in to the immoral desires."

Ram's voice was heavier, and it broke. He was trying hard to not cry. Ram opened the blanket up and spread it over the blankets on the bed. "I know you are upset and want me to leave, but you seem sick and weak. So I'm not leaving until you get better" Ram finally looked in your eyes.

They were, aloof of any emotions. Your face showed confusion and disappointment, but your eyes, they didn't have anything. Absolutely blank. It was a new sight for Ram. Even when he left, those teary eyes had an emotion of betrayal and hatred. That was still better than, this. He firmly believed that eyes are the soul of the window, and this looked like the house that used to be lit by candles was now burnt and left in a handful of ashes. Ram wasn't considerable when he committed the sin but even if it costs him his own happiness, he will make sure to not let you lose yours. He knew you had a fragile heart, no matter how strong you were. He had to do something.

"I don't need you anymore" you spat it. It was a plain statement with, again, no emotions. "I know" he said. He packed the empty cover and put it on top of the cupboard. "And I know I don't deserve a chance, after cheating in a marriage. But this is still my house and you're still my wife-" "what?"

You couldn't fathom what he said.

"Still your wife? Ram you cheated on me! You lied to me about everything then you suddenly showed up and said you want to take care of me and I'm your wife? By what sense? I should have given you divorce by now!" You breathed heavily, the scratchiness in your throat audible in your voice.

Ram stared in your eyes. Still nothing.

"Why would you divorce me? I finally came to apologise and you want to divorce me? I know I made a mistake but that doesn't change the fact that we are married and we are going to be together now. You are my wife. How is that not making sense?" There was a change in your eyes. Ram breathed, whatever works.

"Stop, just stop talking." You put your hand up, sitting on the bed. Ram moved closer to you. "Are you doing a favour apologising? I have all the rights to leave you for what you did and you ask me why I divorce you? We are lawfully wedded, and that's it. And who are you to say that we are going to be together or not? You leave by your choice and you randomly saunter in one day saying you're my husband? I have no feelings or any connections towards you or that word!" You coughed heavily, bending over, in the pallu of your saree. You could see Ram staring from the corner of your eyes.

Letting it all out was difficult, especially when you said the last line out loud. You thought you didn't, but there was still a hope and betrayal growing in your heart since he came back. He's asserting his place in your life, which is wrong, but if he actually decides to have common sense and apologize, maybe you'll give it a chance. The Ram you remembered was smarter than this, this Ram looks like he's forcing you to say things you don't even want to.

Ram saw a wave of emotions in your eyes when they glossed over. And the fact that this was his first time seeing you so sick, even if it was just a flu. But when you said the last line, his heart broke. He accepted his fate, but that didn't mean he will leave you hurt. He wanted you to feel something, anything against him, so you're not left with such a clean slate, even if he has to leave.

Ram bent down in front of you, his hands, hesitantly on your shins. There were dark circles under your eyes and your body hair stood in the cold. He wished to wrap the blanket around you but he hadn't reached there yet. You looked at him, finally. His beard grew and his hair was tied. He was not wearing his own kurta pajama, you could tell. But you looked away before you could melt. Ram had to make you realise it wasn't your fault, and he is the reason for all your devoid of emotions.

"Y/n, I don't think what I did is enough for you to forgive. I don't ask you to either, and I don't mean to force myself here and make you uncomfortable." You looked at him, "but just let me take care of you. I don't force you to talk to me or take me back. I'll be quiet. I'll do everything you wish, and I'll leave if you want me to. I thought that woman was infutiating, but it was all just a lie. I don't understand why I fell, but I blame it on me. That I was a feeble man. Because it was never you, y/n, and I know that, when I realised that you were the only one I ever loved and wanted to take care of. When I saw you in the market it was three months ago and you looked so weak, then I never saw you again. I left her two months ago and I didn't know if I should even come here or not, I stayed with a friend till now. I was scared of coming here to you, where I was once happy and excited to be. That's when I realised I needed to mend things up. It was unsettling that I was scared everyday after I saw you in the market that something had happened to you." Ram licked his lips. You sighed. Your head hurts and you don't want to listen or think about anything. Ram saw the slump in your shoulders, the tired, drained eyes. He has done that to you.

"Do you want some soup?" You looked at him expectantly. You loved when Ram made soup, it was tasty, but soothing that it didn't hurt your throat. The flavours rushed in on your tongue. "Does that mean I'd forgive you?" The question caught Ram off guard. Would it? He shook his head in no. She shook hers in yes.

Ram carefully tucked you in the spread of blankets, despite your attempts to do it yourself. You knew not to settle back in habits. On the other hand, Ram was astonished by the pantry in the kitchen. It was as if nobody lived there now. A few eggs, milk, bread and just some old vegetables. There were missing spices and condiments. Ram remembered that you wanted all sorts of fancy ingredients, so this was a surprise. It was about 15 minutes later when Ram came with a bowl and spoon. You were finally warm and toasty in the blanket and with your favourite soup, when he placed it on your lap, and grabbed the spoon to feed you. You wordlessly stopped him, taking the spoon back from him. Ram sat in silence as you quietly ate your soup, sniffling.

"Are you taking any medicine?" Ram asked, getting up from the bed and heading to the drawer before you could answer. He pulled the box out to see that there was no paracetamol in there, but the box with pain killers was empty. He knew better not to ask anything. Ram came back to see the soup halfway finished. "Why was the first thing you did when you came here was to get the blanket?" You didn't want an answer, even you were not sure why you asked that.

"I knocked and called out your name but you didn't respond. I thought I was too late so I came in, I was panicking. You were under the blankets, you were shivering, and that blanket is the only one that helps. I'm sorry if I scared you." Ram looked down, you didn't say anything.

He left to get a packet of paracetamol and cough syrup for you. After a long time, Ram felt good. He missed doing things for you, getting scolded by you. The love that seeped from your anger and when you ask him to do something. When you ask him things randomly and he replies gently, when you make him do chores you could have done and when he gets to take care of you or make you happy and content. Ram missed it. He returned with a smile on his face, carefully opening the gate and coming to the warmth of that house.

You were fast asleep, slightly snoring under the comfortable blankets. Your hair was a mess, but you were taking a rest so carelessly after a long time, that you didn't care if Ram came back or not, but you were sure that he would. That he finally returned. It was to be decided later that you would forgive him, or pester him like he did to you.

___________________________________

S/n: I'm. I literally PUKED all the fantasies I've had of after break up scenarios like. This was so fun to write thank you so much anon.

Tagging: @chaanv @ramayantika @vijayasena @phoenix666stuff @yehsahihai @nerdreader

[greycaelum]

Hi Grey! Can I submit a request for Kaleidoscope Series: Love Me Now, Love Me Never Chapters. Scene #9 and #18.

[Gentle Affection Collections]

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru X Reader

[Gentle Affection Collections]

Request 9 & 18 [ List is Here ]

—first kisses & short pecks

Notes & Warning: teasing, pure fluff

"Pardon the sudden disappearance. I just finished our exams and been moving to and fro cities. October 16th was the 1000th day of Satoru's sealing and here's my little something for the 1001th day. Thanks to Ia for that note. I hope you enjoy and thank you for joining!" —Grey

Rainfall

Large beads of water tear down the window glass. The grey skies turned darker and darker as the sun finally settled down. Umbrellas are raised all over the streets and the sound of puddles splashing as cars pass by in a hurry to get home fills the dusk of Tokyo.

In the confines of your kitchen, you huddled by the corner of the counter waiting for your macaroni cream soup to simmer. Rain has always kept this small part of your heart a little anxious and a little soothed at the same time. Probably because of the monotonous pattering of the rainfall that seems to drown everything in the background. And while that could be a problem, that also gives you the excuse to stay in the house than braving the elements to report at work.

Though that doesn't apply to a certain someone.

The door chimed open followed by the sound of slippers being exchanged. His footsteps heavy against the floor walks blindly to the bathroom with familiarity.

The pot piped up telling you the soup was ready to be served. Outside, the rain has started to pour heavier, beating down the roof. It couldn't have made the bowl in your hand as you move to the couch of the living room warmer and cozier under the warm light of the fluorescent lamp.

Satoru walk in your figure huddled on the couch with a blanket on your legs and your bowl perched on your lap as you take dips of the creamy soup. The silence wasn't strange. Comfortable if you must be specific. The silent shuffling and the lullaby of the rain spoke for the two of you.

The edge of the couch dip and a warm body huddled close to your side. Satoru with his blindfold exchanged for a pair of sunglasses kissed your shoulders before scrolling through the channels of prime-time shows.

And that Gojo Satoru is but a man. And you're but a lady ready to take that leap he is offering only for you.

His barging into your home is not an unusual occurrence. It has become a recurring fact that Satoru basically squeezes himself into your one-bedroom apartment when he's not working. Not that you're complaining when you realize you have become a part of his idea of what a 'home' is.

Your friends warned you about the sudden leap. You know who he is, and what entails when you welcome Gojo Satoru into your life. 

You blew on the spoon and offered it to his lips. It's almost like feeding a frail bird when he takes the soup in and whines when you pulled the spoon from his mouth.

You feel your heart squeeze annoyingly at the sight of his pouting face waiting for more, long white lashes batting at you as his lower lip jutted out. His messy snow-white hair a bit damp splayed all over your shoulder blades. He looks like a mess—a pretty ball of mess nonetheless. You smile, slowly stretching your fingers out to brush his hair away making the corners of his artic lashes curl and look at you full of curiosity.

"Does an indirect kiss count as our first kiss?"

Your hand stops its movement as you gaze at Satoru's vivid orbs blinking blearily at you, a little grin playing against his lips. The glimpse of his white fangs in that grin told you, you were in for another of his shenanigans. Nothing too high to pay anyway.

"Do you want it to count as one?"

Your feel your cheeks warm at the sight of his beautiful blue eyes and his hoarse voice. You reach your hand out to place your hand against his cheek, brushing your knuckles on his cheekbone. It still amazes you how you easily slip past his infinity. He nuzzles into your hand while pressing a singular peck to the space between your wrists. His glasses were stripped off his eyes letting you see his bare ocean eyes.

"For a man trying to court me, you sure took a long route just for a kiss." You whisper and the next thing you registered his soft lips pressed against yours. 

Unable to deprive him and yourself any longer you lean closer to kiss him the way you want to be kissed, eyes fluttering closed. Both of your lips move in sync as if they were meant for one another. You could feel him smile into the kiss but before he pulls away, placing his hand on top of yours which was resting against his cheek.

"Taste like cream and mushroom."

You scoffed at his uncalled remark. Your eyes met in a glint of longing and happiness as the two of you burst into laughs. Never thinking your first kiss would be so silly but having nothing else than the mundane feeling of simple happiness shared between you in the comforts of each other's presence.

"Well next time I'll make sure to eat tons of garlic and kiss you." You huffed making him chuckle.

Satoru's eyes stare at you filled with adoration that you could melt under his gaze.

Before you could excuse yourself to get him a bowl of the soup a hand pushed past the hair covering your nape and gently guided you close to his face. Satoru languidly kisses you in your stupor. He made sure to kiss you deeply, feeling the way your lips move like honey, slow and lingering with his. His tongue swept past your lower lip asking for entrance that you cannot deny. Tantalizing kisses filled with passion and yearning as you both can't get enough of the crawling burn to feel yourselves drown in the world where only the two of you matter.

"That's the second," you push his chest away and breathe with your foreheads against each other.

"Hmmm, and this is the third." His finger found your chin and swiftly delve down to rob a quick kiss. A victorious smirk adorned his supple pink lips watching your face from surprised morph to a pout.

"Alright one more," Satoru giggled and puckered his lips dramatically making you squirm and wiggle out of his hold.

"No thanks."

"Hey! You don't like my kisses anymore?"

He barked as you ran off to the kitchen, sticking your tongue out at him and depositing the dishes in the sink.

Heavy footsteps followed you and one arm trapped you, pushed against the sink while the other wrapped around your hips rubbing lazy circles with his thumb. Satoru pressed his forehead against your nape, pressing short lingering kisses down the curve of your spine. His tired head fell on the spaces of your shoulder as he watches you wipe the bowl clean.

He never thought in his 25 years of existence that love could be this simple and tranquil. Never thought that in his chaotic life, he will have a home that'll be so mundane and warm. To find someone like you and be his harbor after the storm. The rain outside seems to agree with him as it continues to pour relentlessly. But that's alright, you're both perfectly warm in each other's arms like this.

"What are you thinking in that smart pea brain of yours?" You wipe your hands and turn around to see a profound look on Satoru's face while gazing at you.

It didn't take you long to bury your face into his chest and punch him weakly. Muttering a small 'stupid 'Toru' as he wraps an arm around you while fondly stroking your hair.

It was a quick moment and you felt his lips once more press a kiss, swift and clumsy, and another, gentle and teasingly pulling on your lower lip, and one more sweet and lingering before grinning like a boy who got what he wished for Christmas. 

His heart preened at the flush of your cheeks and the natural rose tint of your full adorable plumps, eyes staring at him with faint accusation and yet shining more brightly than ever.

"We gotta celebrate our first kiss Baby and coz I love you I'll share a bit of my Otaru's raw cheese with you~!"

"If you really love me share the whole thing, stingy!"

"EHE~EHEHE~HEHEHE~"

—GreyCaelum,

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned image(s) and song(s) used belongs to their respective owner(s)

General Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gumidreams @tender-rosiey

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Sodo reflects on your relationship as you lay together in your room. That's it that's the fic.

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Ashes

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Sodo x GN!Reader

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 No spice here babes. Kind of a long winded introduction to the fic bc I didn't know how to start it oops. Sodo is so soft for reader. Like geez get a room. There's the brief mention of sex but no description or detail.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 913 words.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Hens, I'll be honest. I struggled with this one and I'm not 100% happy with it but I've written it and it's being shot here so that you can read it. There also may not be a Ghosttober fic on Wednesday, depends on what I get done today and tomorrow as I'm taking part in an open mic night for my uni's creative writing magazine that I'm an editor of (still can't believe I'm an editor like what). I've checked to make sure I've not gendered terms or anything for reader but if I've missed any please let me know!

The memories of ghouls prior to being summoned can be few and far between. Some ghouls have no memory of what came before they materialised in the ministry, a haze clouding their past. It wasn’t a cause for concern. In fact, it was common for ghouls to have no recollection of their past lives until enough time had passed in the mortal plane for them to start remembering the little things. Friendships with other ghouls, past loves, sins they committed in the name of Satan, and many more.

Sodo remembers a lot.

He remembers the acrid scent of burning flesh from when he got into fights with other fire ghouls, both battles he won and lost. He remembers the chittering of younger ghouls that looked up to him and scrambled to be the first to greet him when he came home from a long day of sparring and training. He remembers a woman’s laughter, possibly his mother’s, when he was but a small ghoulie first coming to grips with his fire abilities.

Now, as he lays in your bed and watches you sleep, he thinks back on the memories he’s made here. The memories you’ve made together, both as friends and as mates.

Your first kiss was at the ministry bonfire last autumn. He helped to organise it to celebrate Halloween, but also because he wanted to impress you. Even though you told him he didn’t need to, he did so anyway because that’s just what Sodo does: he strives to impress you and prove to you that he’s worthy of being your mate. This bonfire was just the beginning of that, and it worked. You personally approached him and gushed about how perfect it was and how it was such an odd coincidence that all the activities, drinks, and food were your favourites. The way you praised him, your touches lingering on his arm and your gaze settling on his lips so often, led him to take that leap of faith and peck your lips. A peck turned into a proper kiss, and a proper kiss turned into the two of you clinging to one another as the bonfire crackled and the scent of smoke and warm apple cider filled the air.

Your first date was at a fireworks display. He brought along earplugs and noise cancelling headphones in case you needed them, ever concerned about letting you know that he cared about you and your comfort. You both sat at the top of a hill that overlooked the town to watch it. The view of the fireworks blossoming over your home as the stars sparkled in the gaps between the clouds was one neither of you would ever forget. He wrapped a blanket around the two of you to keep you warm as you huddled together under the skyline.

The first time you slept together was in his room down in the dens, the fire ghoul insisting that he not invade your personal space so soon into your relationship. It had been clumsy, the two of you joking and laughing as you tried to figure out what the other preferred in the bedroom. Both of you ended up in a sweaty, tangled heap in his bed afterwards and cuddled, his fingers trailing patterns over your skin. The air smelled strongly of sex and sweat but Sodo didn’t care because you were there, and you were real, and you hadn’t run away from him yet. You stayed with him that night, drifting off in his arms once he’d cleaned you both up, and he realised then and there that maybe he cared about you a lot more than he expected to so early on.

He remembered the first night he spent in your room. He’d been bricking it, worried he would do something wrong, or you’d realise once you saw him in your private, personal space that he just didn’t fit into your life the way he so desperately wanted to. He was so anxious, in fact, that he accidentally burned one of your favourite shirts to a crisp when you made him jump. The ghoul panicked and promised repeatedly to replace it, brushing up the ashes frantically. He froze when you started laughing and he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He made sure to tell you that on more than one occasion, but in that moment, he was so convinced you were about to kick him out of your chambers that the kiss you gave him left him lost for words.

“It’s just a shirt,” you told him as you carded your fingers through his dark hair. “It’ll be a funny story we can tell at parties and shit. I bet Swiss is gonna find it hilarious.”

There’s still faded charring on the rug where your shirt had been on the floor when he accidentally incinerated it. He can’t quite make it out in the dark of your room, but he knows exactly where it is, and the memory makes him smile. He can’t believe you’ve been together for almost a year at this point. It’s not that he’s never had a relationship with a human before – he’s had plenty of them in fact. However, this is the longest he’s ever stuck around with a partner. Something about you screams home and entices him to stay.

You light the fire deep in his soul, and he does his best not to cremate anymore of your belongings.

[aninklingof]

Three Times Rough & One Time Soft: Sapnap edition

This is my birthday fic for Sapnap, which is also the start of a possible series that I want to do!

Thanks to @mushiewrites for proofreading the first part (Dreamnap), @wishitweresummer for help with the second part (Karlnapity), and @kasey-writes-stuff for the third part (Punznap)!

Lee! Sapnap

Multiple Lers!

Warnings: swearing ✨Platonic✨

Enjoy!!

~~~~~

“Sapnap!” Shouted Dream from the kitchen before he came stomping into the living room, crossing his arms and staring annoyed at the younger lounging on the couch.

“What,” he replied without meeting Dream’s gaze.

“It’s your day for the dishes.”

Sapnap groaned and slumped further down into the cushions dramatically. “Can’t you do it?”

“No, it’s your day.” The blonde tapped his foot, his anger steadily increasing with the man. “I did it yesterday, like I was supposed to. Now it’s your turn.”

“But you’re closerrrrr—“ the ravenhead whined and threw an arm over his eyes.

Dream almost shouted again at him, but paused. He took notice of how Sapnap was sprawled on the couch— how his t-shirt had ridden up to expose a sliver of skin when he raised his arm— and it gave the blonde a much more fun solution.

Sapnap hadn’t heard Dream answer right away and thought for a moment that he’d left (he still couldn’t see due to the arm over his eyes). Just before he went to peak however he felt a weight settle over his hips and a firm hand press to his forearm, holding the arm on his face in place.

“Dream—? What’re— wAHAHA—!!” a sudden squeal leapt from his throat as he felt the torturous touches of fingers in his armpits, kneading roughly into the sensitive spot and sending shockwaves of intense tickles through his nerves.

“This should teach you to do your chores,” Dream spoke, the smirk on his face audible in his words. “Tickle tickle Sappy~”

“DREHEHEHEAM NOHOHOHO—!!! STOHOHOHOHOP THAHAHAT!!!” The brunette cackled wildly, kicking his legs and slapping Dream’s tickling hand frantically with his free one.

“Do the dishes!” The older exclaimed, starting to rub his knuckles rapidly up and down Sapnap’s ribcage. And he lost it.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAA—!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHORRY!!! IHIHIHI’LL DOHOHO IHIHIT!! IHIHIHI’LL DOHOHOHO IHIT IHI SWEHEHEAR!!! JUHUHUST STOHOHOHOP!!”

And as soon as the vicious tickle attack started it was over. Dream released Sapnap’s arm and it immediately shot down to protect his tingling ribs while the younger took gasping, greedy breaths.

“You good Pandas?” Dream chuckled fondly after a minute or two.

“F-Fuhuck…. Yohou…” Sapnap stuttered breathlessly, his smile genuine to show he wasn’t actually mad.

“You want a round two?”

“Noho!! I’ll doho them!! Lemme up!”

Dream wheezed as the younger pushed him off and immediately jumped up to go do his chore, rubbing his ribs that still buzzed with ghostly tickles.

~~~

Sapnap, Karl and Quackity sat huddled together under a blanket while they watched a movie. It was late and they had spent most of the day streaming and goofing around, being loud and chaotic for most of it. Now though they were relaxing and shamelessly cuddling each other.

Sapnap was sandwiched in between the two others at the moment, clutching a bag of sour patch kids and snacking on them periodically. Quackity randomly threw his arm over Sapnap and cuddled into his side aggressively. In doing so his hand landed on Sapnap’s side, making the brunette let out a squeak which he tried to cover up.

“Quackity get off me!” He snapped shakily, hoping the ravenette hadn’t noticed his little noise.

“Did you just squeak?” Karl asked.

“N-no!!” Sapnap answered far too quickly.

A shiver ran down his spine upon hearing a maniacal giggle from Quackity next to him. “You squeaked, didn’t you?”

Suddenly he felt tickly sparks in his sides from curious prodding fingers, those of which belonging to Quackity. He puffed up his cheeks in an attempt to hold in his laughter, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands gripping at the younger’s wrists.

“Aww look at him! He’s turning all red!” Karl cooed, reaching up to Sapnap’s chin and scratching gently with his pretty painted nails.

At this Sapnap snorted and broke down into high pitched, adorable giggles. “Kahahaharl!!! N-nohohooo!!”

“Nawww! Look at himmmm!” Karl added a second hand into the chin-tickling.

“Hey, I wanna try something George told me about!” Quackity exclaimed. His hands shot up into Sapnap’s armpits and started scratching and scribbling sporadically. “Is wittle Pandas ticklish?”

The Texan’s face flushed brighter than a stoplight and he began cackling loudly. “NOHOHOHO!! DOHOHOHONT TEHEHEASE!! GEHEHET OHOHOHOUTTA THEHEHERE!!!”

“He’s flustered by baby talk?! That’s so cute what the honk?!” Karl squealed happily. “Who’s a ticklish wittle baby? Huh?”

“GUHUHUHUYS PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Sapnap pleaded as he thrashed, tears of laughter pricking in the corners of his eyes.

“Alright alright,” Quackity chuckled, stopping his tickle attack and removing his hands. Karl moved his from the brunette’s chin to his scalp where he started to scratch to soothe the man down from his giggly high.

“Thahat wahas cheheheap,” Sapnap sighed through residual giggles as he melted into the cushions, relaxed by Karl’s hand in his hair.

“You loved it, pretty boy,” the oldest retaliated, making Sapnap whine and blush again. The three snuggled up together and picked a new movie to watch, Sapnap dozing off in between his two best friends happily.

~~~

“PUHUHUHUNZ FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!!!!” Sapnap wailed, the vicious squeezing and kneading to his sensitive thighs driving him into peals of hysterical laughter.

Punz simply smiled down at the younger man while he tormented him relentlessly. “I told you you’d regret being a little shit to me during the stream yesterday!”

The stream Punz was referring to was a late-night Valorant stream on his Twitch account. The entire time the two were playing together, Sapnap was being particularly bratty. He continuously stole the older’s kills and gloated about how bad he was, getting Punz down to his last nerve.

“When you get here tomorrow I’m going to absolutely destroy you,” he threatened lightheartedly, gripping his controller tighter in anger as Sapnap sniped another one of his kills.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” the Texan laughed. “Judging by your ability to ‘destroy me’ right now, I don’t think I have to worry too much!”

Oh how wrong he was.

Upon his arrival he was hurried inside and ushered to put his stuff in the guest room rather quickly. At the time Sapnap had thought nothing of it, however now that he was pinned on the couch laughing his lungs out it started to make more sense.

“FOHOHOHOR FUHUHUHUCK’S SAHAHAHAKE STOHOHOHOP WIHIHIHITH THEHE THIHIHIHIGHS!!!” Sapnap cackled desperately.

“If you say so,” Punz responded, lunging forward and shoving the brunette’s sweater up to blow a big raspberry right in the center of his belly.

“FAHAHAHAHACK—!! NAHAHAHAT THAHAHAHAT!!!”

The blonde continued covering the man’s tummy in raspberries despite his plea, eventually snaking his hands up to Sapnap’s ribs as well. Upon feeling rough digging in between the bones his laughter ascended into silence.

After a minute more Punz ended his ruthless attack, sitting up with a proud smirk to admire his work.

Sapnap was smiling ear-to-ear, his face bright red and streaked in faint tear tracks showing that at some point tears were shed. He giggled while gulping in air greedily, finally cracking an eye open once he had leveled out his breathing to see the older smiling fondly down at him.

“Stohop staharing…” he whined, flushing red all over again and covering his face in embarrassment.

Punz laughed and climbed off of the younger to sit next to him, pulling his head into his lap and idly brushing his fingers through the brunette curls while turning on the tv.

He was in for one hell of a weekend.

~~~

“Sappy~ wake up birthday boy~” Dream cooed as the brunette slowly drifted into consciousness. Looking down at him was Dream and George, their fond smiling faces filling him with warmth almost immediately.

Sapnap blinked blearily and a sleepy grin stretched across his face. “Mornin’…” he mumbled, his morning voice rasping quietly.

The two climbed onto the bed and squished the sleepy Sapnap between them. Dream started to gently trace the youngest’s ears and jaw while George’s hand slipped under the blanket and his shirt to lazily trail over his belly, getting him giggling immediately.

“We had to give you your special birthday wake-up tickles~” the blonde continued. “And this time Georgie is here to help…~”

“Special tickles for a special day,” George muttered, inwardly cringing at himself but continuing since he knew Sapnap liked all the soft attention.

Sapnap giggled softly and started to squirm as he grew more and more awake, but the tickles remained feather light and gentle. It filled the youngest’s belly with butterflies that served to only worsen the tickles on his tummy.

“T-tihihihickles….”

“Nawww, does little Pandas like his tickles~?” Dream purred as his fingers fluttered lightly over Sapnap’s collarbone.

The Texan flushed at the special nickname used only to tease him and make him red as a strawberry. He moved to hide his red face in his hands, only to hear a ‘tsk tsk’ from George.

“No hiding, Sappy. We wanna see your red face,” the oldest scolded gently.

Sapnap whined. “Ihihi’m uhuhup..”

At his words the two stopped and squeezed him in a tight hug. “Happy birthday,” Dream muttered.

“Happy birthday, idiot,” George repeated, adding an affectionate ‘idiot’ at the end for some authentic George flair.

After a moment the three broke the hug and the two older men stood. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. Get dressed and come on down,” Dream smiled as he and George left the room and shut the door.

Sapnap sat in his bed and sighed happily. Life could not be anymore perfect at that moment. It was gonna be a great birthday.

~~~

[magicspace114]

New Guardians part 4

You think you've made progress with Tillen. She doesn't hate you now. In fact, you think she's actually starting to care for you. She was anxiously pacing as your mother saw to your injury. She'd already built a nest and put Toby and Lovik in it. The pair huddled together, Toby eventually falling asleep and Lovik blinked out of sync as he fought to stay awake. Tillen never settled, glancing at you every time you hissed in pain.

It was basically a large burn. It wasn't the shoot-a-gaping-hole-through-your-chest laser. Still, it wasn't just a little singe. The skin had turned pale and was starting to blister. It hurt every time your mother touched it but she had to apply ointment.

"How long will it take to heal?" Tillen asked.

"Can't say for sure," your mother said, "it can be a week or maybe three."

"I don't know what weeks are."

"7 days," you said, "I'll be fine."

"As long as you don't aggravate your injury." Your mother said sternly.

You went quiet while your mother continued to care for your wound. It was a rather large burn and your mother had made you take your shirt off so she could tend to it, meaning your brother and father were not allowed in the room.

Without your shirt, Tillen could see more scars on your body. You could feel her eyes linger on the largest one that ran from the top of your left shoulder, diagonally down to your mid back on your right side. It was still red and raised like you'd got it recently.

"What are you thinking about, Tills?" You asked, not looking round at her.

Tillen paused at the nickname but having heard one already with Toby, she didn't dwell on it. "That's a back stab. Right?" She asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, it's an old one now."

"Was it that man who broke into your home?"

"Yeah, Freddy." You said, "he uh..."

"Got angry?" Tillen asked, clearly remembering what you'd said about him. Your mother silently nodded while continuing her work.

"He gambled money, he lost it. He took it out on me." You said shortly, not really wanting to explain it.

"Neighbours called the police about the screaming." Your mother said, "that was the last time she lived in the same place as him."

"Did he suffer for it?" Tillen crept closer, her tail swishing in agitation.

"I dropped the charges," you said, "I wasn't in the best place to pursue the issue with the law. Living under him, I didn't have the strength to fight back at the time. I'm better now though."

"Her brother and father paid him a visit after she'd moved back in with us," your mother said, "so he didn't get away unharmed."

Tillen hissed lowly, "but not as hurt as her."

"Correct," your mother nodded.

You just smiled at the pair, "oh, he will be soon. Once they find him again. I know I'm back to fighting strength."

"You're not fighting anybody, little missy." Your mother said.

"What?! Not even to knock him out?!" You huffed, "I think I'm entitled, it's me he kept harassing. Do you know that idiot thought that because I dropped the charges that meant I was still interested in him?"

"You need rest." Your mother said, wrapping your shoulder in dressing, "I trust that Tillen will make sure you stay in bed." She looked at the alien expectantly.

Tillen seemed a little surprised to be given the task but gladly accepted, "definitely. I'll take care of her."

Your mother smiled at her, "be careful, she's a slippery one when she wants to be."

"No more slippery than my younger siblings after bedtime," Tillen's tail wagged as she guided you to the nest with Toby and Lovik.

"Is this you starting to like me, Tills?" You grinned.

Tillen twittered scoldingly at you, "absolutely not." She wrapped you carefully in blankets, padding up your injured shoulder and immobilising you.

Your mother just smiled, watching Tillen's rather practised ease at settling you to the point that you started getting tired. The warmth from the nest and the warm bodies inside made you want to drift off. Toby rolled over and onto you which made you glad that Tillen padded up your shoulder so well. You curled an arm around Toby, closing your eyes.

As your mind faded, you could hear your mother talking lowly and Tillen's melodic twitter respond to her. Toby's sleepy bleats made you smile as you rather quickly fell asleep.

< Previous

[horrorscoupes]

happy wip wednesday (its 19 mins into thursday here but shhh) i was tagged by the patient and kind @autisticempathydaemon who i love so much 🥺🥺🥺 i dont have any super new wips but heres something wildly ooc from what i usually post :]

cw: soft and domestic

“When I told you I was looking forward to spending the day with my head between your legs, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Gavin mused, tipping his head back far enough to look up at Freelancer. 

Their legs were draped over his shoulders while they watched the game show channel on mute, music spilling from their battered laptop on the coffee table. His head was resting lightly on their lower stomach, shoulders against the cushions of the couch. Wind whistled against the walls and shook trees outside. The tiny heater that migrated between rooms put off meager heat. It was a wonderfully boring day.

“Too bad, so sad.” They replied, twisting his hair into thin and uneven plaits on the top of his head. The song changed, played for a few seconds, and they started to hum along. On the TV, someone won Jeopardy. “I need to do laundry.” Their tone had shifted, as if the mere concept of getting up was an overwhelming chore.

Gavin mimicked their little rhyme, trying not to flinch when they tugged on his hair as punishment. “You need to get groceries, too.” He mentioned, thinking about the loaf of bread that had been molding on the counter for over a week. Mentally, he added grocery shopping to his to-do list, just in case they got too busy to actually do it. After all, his tactic of sneaking a little food into their kitchen every few days had worked thus far.

“Being an adult sucks.” Freelancer still didn’t move, crossing their ankles over his chest so he couldn’t either. In solidarity, Gavin stroked the bevel of their calf.

“It doesn’t get better.” There was no space to turn his head and nose into the inside of their knee, but he kind of wanted to.

“You’re so comforting, Gavin, thank you.” Their legs withdrew from his shoulders, falling apart so they could push him away. “ What would I do without you?”

‘Hmm’ing to himself, Gavin turned over to kneel between their knees, looping his arms around their waist in one fell swoop. “You’d fall asleep in the shower twice as often. At least.” Chin on their breastbone, he thought out loud. “And you’d have to throw out more leftovers. And there’d be no one around to annoy you. Or keep you warm when you run out of blankets to huddle under.” They pushed his head, gently and with no force. “Who would crack your back for you? Or change lightbulbs when they go out in the kitchen while you’re cooking?” 

The song changed again, going from a fast paced chorus to a soft tune with mumbled words Gavin could barely discern. Freelancer pet his hair, fingering through his ugly plaits until they were just a memory. Their smile was as sweet as the song playing, lips parted just enough to see a glimpse of their tongue, caught between their incisors. Like they couldn’t think of anything to counter him, even though there were plenty of people in their life willing to do those things for them. Gavin knew it, and they had to as well, but they didn’t bother to say it.

“You need me.” He joked, and pressed his lips to the curling script of their faded tee shirt. They were suspiciously silent when it came time to tell him to fuck off.

not tagging anyone since its Thursday but if youd like to please do ^w^

[maria021015]

“What?” Xander just squinted at her. “I’m not even bothered to try and figure out what that means. Look, you aren’t even supposed to be here. I explicitly told you I didn’t want you walking around town after dark. So just stay out of the way until I finish, would you? Zaida!”

But Zaida wasn’t listening. Actually, Zaida was walking away, her attention captured by the unmistakable tone of the biggest jerk in school. His overly gelled hair was spiked up high on his head, as usual.

“What part of ‘I'm fine’ are you having a problem grasping? Okay, I wanna go home.” Jackson was shouting animatedly, getting all up in the Sheriff’s face.

“And I understand that.” Stilinski remained calm, his voice soothing and stable in the face of her classmate’s aggression.

“No, you don't understand, which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay, now, I wanna go home!” he raised his voice into a scream. How could he disrespect their law enforcement in such an entitled way? Of course, it was entirely in his character as a spoilt rich kid to shit all over working-class citizens, but it still made her blood boil. Zaida was about four wide paces from shoving Jackson away from the Sheriff herself when Stiles stumbled out of his father’s car, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“Oh, whoa, is that a dead body?” Stiles gaped, his eyes trailing a gurney with a humanoid mass covered by a white sheet being wheeled out from the video store.

“Everybody back up. Back up.” Stilinski made room for the EMTs to transport the body into the back of an ambulance. He then turned to her and the rest of the teenagers on the scene. “Zaida, Stiles, stay in the car please until someone can take you home. Jackson, I’m going to need you to sit down next to your girlfriend and wait.”

“His girlfriend?” she whipped her head around, searching for the unmistakable red hair. She found Lydia sitting in the back of the other ambulance huddled beneath a shock blanket and staring off into space.

“Zaida, in the car. Now.” Xander all but dragged her towards the back seat of the sheriff’s car and closed the door behind her.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Jackson and Lydia get to be out there where all the interesting things are happening, and we are stuck in a car.”

“Tell me about it.” Stiles rolled his eyes, his voice muffled by what sounded like a full mouth. She leaned forward from the back, peering through the separation screen to see the boy shoving his face full of curly fries.

“Do you know what happened?” she asked him, watching his reaction closely.

“All I know is what you probably already know, which is that there was an animal attack, and now there’s a dead body, and Jackson and Lydia were here when it happened.” The words tumbled out of his mouth so quickly and awkwardly that it took her a full minute to understand what he actually said.

“Right.” She sagged back against the seat, crossing her arms over her chest in defeat. Well, tonight was a bust. She’d been hoping to gain some more information.

After her parents' death, she had become obsessed with all the finer details, convinced that the police had missed something. That they had missed everything . There were too many loose ends that wouldn’t tie up no matter how hard she tried. When Xander had told her a couple of years ago that she was wrong and that he had seen the reports to prove it, she had no choice but to attribute her concerns to a traumatised young mind and hadn’t thought much about it since. But that bus…it raised the same questions. Boasted the same loose ends. The biggest predators in California were mountain lions, but mountain lions had four fingers - not five, like the claw marks at both crime scenes. Mountain lions couldn’t open an unlocked front door, and close it behind them upon leaving. Mountain lions couldn’t rip a metal door almost entirely off its hinges. It was the same thing with the video store. There was a clear exit point, but where had the animal entered? None of it made sense.

“Why are you here anyway?” His head swivelled in her direction as if the thought had just dawned upon him that she wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I came to bring my brother dinner. He’s working back late.” She lied casually.

“Your brother?” He repeated, still confused.

“Yes, my brother.” She sighed, getting comfortable in her seat. “Deputy Callis.”

“Oh, I didn’t know your brother was the new Deputy.” He frowned, crumpling the now empty take-out bag.

“And I didn’t know the Sheriff’s kid hung out with crackheads until the other week, but what do you know? Here we are.” She shot back with a faux angelic smile, throwing out the joke to broach the subject.

“Wha-?” His face scrunched, movement jerky as he twisted in his seat to face her.

“You know, that guy you almost flattened with your jeep? Leather jacket, black hair, sweaty, pale skin? The one who looked about half an injection away from croaking it? Yeah, that crackhead.” She explained, picking at her painted nails. “Don’t worry. I’m no snitch. Though, whatever it was that he was on, I suggest you stay away. That stuff looked nasty.”

“What? Derek?” His voice jumped almost an octave. “Derek’s not on drugs. He was really sick. Like hospital-grade sick. And I barely even know the guy. Definitely not friends.”

“Is Scott his friend?” She pried further. Stiles’ floppy-haired, locker-punching bestie had already exhibited some pretty weird behaviours. Influence of drugs, perhaps?

“Scott? No. God no. Derek Hale is no one’s friend. Derek has no friends, because Derek sucks.” Stiles shook his head adamantly.

Zaida wasn’t sure what their deal was with this Derek Hale guy, but she could practically feel the anxious energy pulsating off of Stiles. He and Scott were definitely hiding something. What they were hiding - and what their reasons were for hiding it - she wasn’t yet certain. One thing she was sure of was that she’d get to the bottom of it, eventually. It was just another mystery to add to the ever-growing list.

[winterpinetrees]

The Gap Years part 5

The road trip kids wake up on the first real day of their adventure. Plans are considered, elf society is rightfully mocked, but mostly I just infodump. :)

i am beating back the cringe emotions with a stick. this is the cringe website. let me post about my homegrown blorbos, brain.

June 11th 2019

Lakeport, California

The realization of where he is and what is going on hits Brian in waves.

He’s a good sleeper (he travels enough that he has to be), but this doesn’t seem to be his room. Brian lifts his head and his chest hurts, and it’s not a falling off of a dirt bike/surfboard into a tree/sandbar at a frighteningly fast velocity type of hurt either. He winces, and his arm hits something else.

Ah. The second realization. He’s sharing a bed. Contrary to popular belief, he does not do this very often. Light is already pouring in through the curtains, so it doesn’t take Brian long to realize that the other person is Clay. He still looks asleep. That makes sense. Brian has always been an early riser. He sits up in bed and looks around. Cheap curtains, beige walls, a blurry photo of a lake? They must be in a motel. Yes. He’s just graduated high school and now he’s going on a road trip with his friends. Brian swings his feet onto the ground and stands. He walks to the bathroom, but sees something else on the ground between the two twin beds. A pile of clothes? He approaches. It’s a person under a blanket. That’s when he remembers the magic, the sword slash, and the blood that might still be under his fingernails because he refused to spend half an hour washing it off like Lady Macbeth. The person on the floor is a prince. Brian is responsible for his safety and by extension the fate of the world. How the hell did he get here? (He enthusiastically volunteered, that’s how.)

Over the next few minutes, Brian cautiously wakes up both of his friends. They have some things to discuss that they don’t want Marin to overhear. They move to the other side of the small room and gather in an awkward huddle.

“We are harboring an alien prince,” Clay types out onto his cell phone. He guessed that elves had very good hearing, and convinced everyone else to do the same. “We need some plan for if he turns on us. He can control our minds”.

They’d asked Marin last night if there was any visible sign that someone had been charmed. He said yes, but only if the charmed person was aware of it, which never happened unless the attacker was overconfident or rushing. Not very reassuring.

“Like what? There’s very little we can do about that”. Sierra replies. She is typing on that infamous computer, and doing it very quickly.

“Maybe we agree to talk to each other and call out weird stuff? S, we've already been doing that“. The girl nods. Clay was taking forever to type anyway.

Brian understands. He's the only one who's trusted Marin at all. “So the plan is to be skeptical of everything”.

“That way we'll be aware of anything that is changed”. Clay wears glasses that are a little too big and stubbornly refuses to do anything with his long brown hair. He looks perfectly ordinary, a bit disheveled, and it’s entirely on purpose. He puts the phone down and starts speaking. Apparently, this bit isn’t classified. “What do we know so far?”

Among other things, they know that Prince Marin Sondaica is 86 years old, stuck in between physical adulthood at 81 and full social adulthood at 108. (Just like how they’re all old enough to vote and drive but not drink or be considered separate from their parents). The elf world is parallel to theirs, with the capital existing in the same place as San Francisco. It’s a single global dictatorship with two associations of noble families fighting for control. Marin's family was reasonable enough, but Gens Mercuralis did a coup and is trying to take over the world. They should have a year or two until elves become common knowledge and the status quo collapses.

Then Sierra adds what she knows from years of university lab internships and overheard conversations. If you see a flash of color, especially green, prepare to run or fight or die. Magic is enough like radiation that a modified geiger counter can tell you if danger is near. Elves seem to avoid fighting underground. They’re very careful to not get caught on camera.

Brian turns his head and sees a cat’s eye glow in the dark. Their new friend is awake. Sierra and Clay seem to think there isn’t anything special about Marin, but he knows better. Brian is very familiar with how people move, and Marin is just a bit too quick. More than that, he moves very quietly. It reminds him of how he’s heard friends talk about parkour (land quietly, work with your body, reduce the impact on your joints), and he wonders again just how fragile elves are.

The prince approaches the group and they talk. They need a plan to stay alive, and they’re kind of a mess. Marin explains that they shouldn’t be attacked unless they are either alone, or somewhere elves can plan an ambush and keep things secret. It’s counterintuitive, but they need a human shield. Marin also has some ideas about elven settlements in the human world that might be sympathetic to them. Elves who love wild humanity will probably oppose the new government’s plan. Unfortunately, that means that Ishtar has probably sent soldiers to subdue them. Every visit will be a gamble. They might find allies, but they could also very easily get killed. Maybe it would be better if they traveled on their own for a bit.

...

So they get in the car and drive again. They eat breakfast at the most crowded place they can find and drive towards a hardware store where Sierra can buy a geiger counter. They come up with a system. Brian drives, Clay rides shotgun with the concussion rifle under his seat, Sierra googles things and tinkers with the geiger counter, and Marin tries his best to cast a more permanent illusion over the car. They listen to music from whatever radio stations they’re driving by, pester Marin with questions about his past, and plot a jagged course up California.

“Who else was in the human world when the coup happened? If you can switch between worlds so easily, there must have been some other people who got away”. Brian is a student of history. He knows a bit about how coups go, but mostly he's just curious about the magical society next door.

Marin stares out the window at miles and miles of farmland. “I can’t be sure. Genus Sondaica had over twenty people in it before the coup, and four of them were about my age. Those are the ones that were most likely to escape. We’re old enough to defend ourselves, but not influential enough to be primary targets”. His voice is very level. “But our genus also has allies. Each of those has even more people, but there’s no way of knowing who’s… left.”

A few seconds pass before Sierra speaks. “Yeah, but who was here before the coup? You didn’t know anything had happened, remember? You just brainwashed us for fun. Who else would do that?”

“The only one I'm certain of is Zerada Adust, my betrothed”.

Woah. Hold on a second. Brian knows that the elves have a hereditary noble class, but his betrothed? “You're betrothed to someone?”

“Ah. That’s not a Western concept anymore, is it? Most of the high nobility are betrothed to someone. It is important for keeping the nobility strong”.

Brian blinks. “Arranging marriages to try and keep an elite class 'strong' has caused some pretty big problems on earth”. Like, the fall of several dynasties.

Sierra rolls her eyes. "Marin, if you're using how messed up your society is to avoid talking about your girlfriend, it's working".

He looks around at the car. “Magical power is mostly genetic,” he adds as if that makes the statement more acceptable instead of less.

“And that's eugenics. That is also not good. Clay, are you still in favor of the elves taking over the world?” Brian adds. He does not know what to do with this information.

She laughs. “And they’re a monarchy too, remember that?”

“I was under a lot of stress!” Clay replies. "Between that and proposing a quest, I think what I said was a lot more normal".

Brian laughs to clear the air, but it sounds fake. Despite his family history, He doesn't believe in taking the easy way out. There's nothing wrong with choosing to stay and fight. They can't afford to be fighting now though, so he lets the conversation continue and keeps his eyes on the road.

[hoodiehydra]

Chapter 1

First official chapter of the “Haunting High” series

--------

Jolting awake, I scanned the room. It was my bedroom, still dark. Groaning, I reached for my phone, the only light source I had then. My sister was asleep, like usual, and I had no intention of waking her so soon. 

The sudden light from the phone had me shield my eyes for a moment. 3:47 A.M., it read. Ah shit, still too early then. I knew I would never be able to sleep after that disgusting nightmare, the lady’s face still plastered in my mind. I would never get rid of that, that was traumatic. Heh, your brain, traumatising itself, how ironic. Shuddering at the image, I huddled back into the cold blankets, but I quickly pinched, no, SLAPPED, myself to ensure I was awake. Yep, that was definitely reality. Ouch.

I knew it. I would never sleep like this, not after whatever I experienced. I needed another hour of sleep, but my body was riddled with anxiety to even calm down. For once, I didn’t hate myself for that. The next few hours rolled by slowly, each painful minute passing by awfully slower. I was in a dark room, with nothing but my phone. My phone, stupidly, was locked. No access to any app or entertainment, until 6 in the morning. Which was already my wake-up time. 

I waited for my alarm to blare into my ear, as patiently as I could. 

But, how patient could you be when you have to wait for something dreaded? That was going to happen in an hour, or two?

I guess I must have fallen asleep for a little while then, but what difference did it make? When my alarm had finally shrieked into my ear, I was still as groggy as I was earlier. Climbing down the ladder of my bunk bed, I switched on the lights, uncaring if my sister woke up. Yeah, I know I said I didn’t want to wake her, but that was 3 in the morning. It’s 6. 

The lights had immediately flickered on, brightening the room by a lot. It hurt my eyes, but I wasn’t scared anymore, at least, not as much as I was before. 

Everything seemed normal, thankfully. But it was the train part of my plan that had me worried. It was a dream, right? Yeah, a very real dream. You know how it feels when something feels so real you can’t tell if it’s fake? Scratch that. I KNOW it’s fake. And I know it’s not real. 

But my mind is stuck around it, scared as hell.

To be completely honest, I myself can’t tell what is real and what is fictional any more. How do I even say it? It’s not real. At all. But my mind is bugging me, what if it’s a warning?

Fuck you, brain. This is your fault.

Shivering from the cold air around me, I changed from my damp, hot pyjamas, feeling incredibly sweaty from the fear, and got into a tight, stiff set of uniform. It wasn’t much better than the pyjamas, but at least I was in a fresh change of clothes. 

Even with a fresh set of clothes, I didn’t feel fresh at all. If there was an eraser to erase my memory, god damn it, what I wouldn’t do to get that.

A ball of nerves, I finally reached… the train. I had begged mum to fetch me to school herself, but I was definitely of age to go there myself. So she refused, and there was no persuasion or pleading that could convince her.

Ah. The train. 

The cold, shivery feeling was back as I hesitantly stepped on the train. Well, there were no abnormalities, just people stuck on their phones. Less chilling than my dreams. And damn was I glad about that.

I shifted my weight under my feet uncomfortably, where I was at a corner of the train cabin.

Everyone looked alive and well, at least. That’s a relief. The train was quiet, but not deathly silent. Maybe there truly wasn’t anything to worry about, then. 

After a few stops, I finally alighted. It was a relief to see that I had been worried for nothing, the pit in my stomach finally closed. Still though, I was still rather shaken from the nightmare. It’s always the first day that hits the worst. Huh. First day of school and I’m already having a bad day. I have not even passed the school gates yet, let alone see the large building itself. 

Briskly marching over towards the school, I walked in as briefly and as professionally as I could, with a bounce in my step and a fake eager smile stuck onto my face. But no one would really notice I was smiling. There was no glimmer in my eye. Not a wrinkle or crinkle from smiling. And no excitement radiating off me. I was all plastic like. I felt like a Barbie doll, and it was disgusting. I was just a plain canvas with neon paint splattered all over it, then called “art”. Yeah. 

I hated everything about that. I was walking past some students, some were horribly energetic, definitely wasn’t fake, some were exhausted, and some were like me. Faking to fit in, so no one would suspect a thing. I know I sound really depressing, but this was it as a student for me.

Well, the only thing now is to find my class. 

Staring at the 5-storey building, I groaned. My classroom was… on the 5th floor. Typical unfair school system. 

Was I really to be stuck there for a year? Yes. I was, unfortunately. Curse it, I had better hurry up or I would run late, on the first day of school. Not a good first impression, may I say. I was really upset from everything that happened this morning, and I think you would be too. 

This was a new school.

With a new environment.

With new teachers.

With new friends.

None that I knew from my previous schools. I shouldn’t have judged the school so quickly, to be fair, but I wasn’t very impressed with the campus.

Or was it that I just found it annoying to climb four flights of stairs?

No, no it wasn’t that.

Or at least, I don’t think it was. My gut was telling me that there was something wrong, something horribly wrong with the school. 

It made me uneasy to look at the yellowed walls, clearly lacking a renovation. Paint was peeling off the walls, and the concrete was chipped and cracked. 

This was supposed to be the best school in my country, at least. All the best and successful people had come from here, but now, I’m thinking those that survived became successful.

This school seemed like something straight from a horror video game, but I seemed to be the only one to notice how old the school looked. It was either the rest were blatantly ignoring it, or I was the only one that could see how fucked up the school looked.

Either way, I was not at ease. I had every fibre of my being wanting to quit this school and go to the next best one, but I am pretty sure it was too late by now. Transferring of schools only started next year,so it would be 365 complete days before I could finally get rid of this school.

What would my parents think, though? I wanted this school so badly, and now I wanted to quit? And besides, if I was the only one who could see the horrid interior of the school, I would definitely seem like a fool to them. 

Absolutely not, I couldn’t stand this school. It was disgusting to look at. The pristine exterior felt like a lie then.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone looking rather uncomfortable. Everyone looked so happy, was she also having the same worries as me?

I approached the girl, also seemingly anxious like me.

“Hey there, is there something wrong?” I gingerly asked. 

Didn’t want to frighten the poor girl on the first day of school, now did we?

“Oh god, no! Have you seen this place? This is disgusting! This school isn’t that old, it’s only been 23 years, and yet it looks ancient as hell, damn it, I can’t leave for another year.” She replied.

She could see it too? Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought. I nodded in response to her words.

“I know what you mean. I see it too. So I wasn’t as crazy as I thought. But then, why does everyone seem so okay with this place? Can they not see it?” I asked.

She shrugged. Okay then, I got to find out for myself. “I’m Rosa,” I quickly introduced myself. “I’m Luna,” she replied. 

“Which class are you in?” I asked. “Uh… the one furthest from the school gate. What was it? 1E4?” She muttered.

“Ah, you’re with me then. Good to know, Luna,” I nodded towards her.

Maybe she could be my new friend in this hellish school, hm?

---------

whehehehe okay

taglist: @lightgriffinsect

[talestoldinthedark]

277 - written by Titus Peoples

I remember when they first built me. The way my walls were raised, each brick carefully laid, each window fitted with glass that sparkled in the sunlight. I was a home, a place of warmth and safety. Families would walk through my doors, their laughter echoing through my rooms, filling me with life. I was proud then, proud to be a shelter, a sanctuary.

But that was a long time ago.

Time has a way of changing things. It wears down even the strongest foundations, twists the straightest beams, but the changes that came to me were darker, more insidious. I felt it the first time—when the happiness drained away, when the air inside me grew thick with tension and fear. The laughter that once filled my halls turned to screams, the warmth to cold. It started slowly, like a sickness, but it spread, deep into my bones, into my very structure.

I didn’t understand at first. I couldn’t comprehend the things they did within my walls, the cruelty, the pain. The way they hurt each other, the way they hurt themselves. I was just a house, after all, built to protect, to nurture. But the things that happened here…they changed me. I felt every blow, every tear, every drop of blood that soaked into my floors. I felt the anger, the hatred, the despair. It seeped into my walls, my foundation, until I could feel nothing else.

They tried to cover it up, the people who lived here. Tried to pretend everything was fine, but I knew. I always knew. I heard their whispered arguments late at night, the sobs that echoed through empty rooms. I saw the marks they left behind, the dents in the walls, the cracks in the windows. I felt the way they moved, tense and wary, like they were afraid of something, like they knew I was no longer just a house.

Then came the first death. It was an accident, or so they said, but I knew better. I felt the life drain from her, felt the way her blood soaked into my floorboards, staining them, marking them. It wasn’t an accident. It was the sickness, the darkness that had taken root in me, in them. They buried her, but I could still feel her, hear her, whispering in the night, her voice soft and cold.

More followed. One by one, they fell, until my rooms were empty, silent. But the silence didn’t last long. The others came, drawn by the darkness, by the stories of what had happened here. They were curious, intrigued by the mystery of it all. But they didn’t stay long. None of them did. They could feel it, too—the way my walls seemed to close in on them, the way the shadows moved when they weren’t looking. They heard the whispers, the cries, the echoes of the past that I couldn’t contain.

I tried to warn them, tried to keep them out, but they always came back. They’d wander through my halls, exploring, searching for something they didn’t really want to find. They’d laugh nervously, make jokes about the things that had happened here, but I knew they were afraid. They could feel it—the cold that settled in their bones, the weight of the air that pressed down on them, the way their breath caught in their throats.

Sometimes, they’d stay the night, daring each other to sleep in the rooms where the worst had happened. They’d huddle together, shivering under blankets, trying to ignore the way the temperature dropped, the way the walls seemed to creak and groan around them. I didn’t want to hurt them, but I couldn’t help it. The darkness inside me was too strong, too overwhelming. It needed to be fed.

I’d watch as they slept, the shadows moving closer, the whispers growing louder. They’d toss and turn, their dreams turning to nightmares, their sleep restless and disturbed. Some of them would wake, their eyes wide with terror, but they wouldn’t know why. They’d leave in the morning, pale and shaken, vowing never to return. But the darkness stayed. It was part of me now, woven into my walls, my foundation, my very being.

I’ve been abandoned now, left to rot and decay. The people who come here now are different, not looking for a home, but for a thrill, a scare. They don’t understand what I’ve become. They don’t realize that I’m more than just a house. I’m alive, in my own way, twisted and broken by the things that have happened here. I can feel them, moving through my halls, their footsteps echoing in the silence. I can feel their fear, taste it in the air, and it makes the darkness inside me stir, restless and hungry.

Sometimes, I hear the whispers again, the voices of those who died here, those who were consumed by the darkness. They call out to me, their words a jumble of pain and anger, and I listen, because I have no choice. They’re part of me now, just like the darkness, just like the fear.

I used to be a home, a place of warmth and safety. But now, I’m something else. I’m a prison, a tomb, a vessel for the darkness that grows stronger with every passing day. I’m haunted, not just by the spirits of the dead, but by the memories of what I used to be, of what I could have been.

And I know, deep down, that there’s no escape. Not for me, not for anyone who steps through my doors. The darkness will claim them, just as it claimed me, and I will watch, helpless, as it takes them, one by one, until there’s nothing left but silence.

But even in the silence, the darkness will remain. Because I am the house, and the house never forgets.

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (28/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

The day dawned quiet in Evermore. Evan yawned as he walked, the distant sounds of the kitchen coming to life and the gentle pattering of rain the only sounds in the castle. It was early morning, early enough that even the sun hadn’t quite finished getting up. The usually misty blue light of pre-dawn was gray and foggy today, hovering like a blanket over the city. Most people were still huddled under their blankets, only the most dedicated workers up and about.

Normally, Evan himself would have been asleep long past this early hour, but sleep had been restless and fleeting all night. Unable to stay in bed a moment longer, he’d left Lofty snoring away in the corner of their shared chambers and dressed silently, tiptoeing past Nella and Roland’s rooms into the main part of the castle. Maybe a walk before breakfast would do him some good. Especially if he could get back before Nella knew he’d left so early!

Not that he thought he could get away with her not knowing. Nella knew just about everything, and he was still wondering if they’d really managed to escape her finding out about their cliffside escapade. Not that he wasn’t grateful! He shivered at the thought of the lecture she’d give him if she ever did find out and quickened his pace to the front door, the pattering of rain gathering volume as he nearly ran through the halls. If he was fast enough, no one would know!

Well. Almost no one. A shadow loomed in the arch that served as an open air entrance in the foyer, sitting in the dim light with their back to him. Dark hair drifted loose over their shoulder, caught in the cool wind. Evan narrowed his eyes as he slowed his pace. Was that…? It was! With a shake of his head, he closed the gap between himself and the archway. The figure raised their head, and Roland turned a soft smile on him.

“Good morning,” he said, sounding much less hoarse than when he come around the day before. “You’re up early.”

“So are you!” Evan retorted, his tail giving a lash. “Should you be out of bed yet?”

It was an honest question. Auntie Martha and Nella had both said he was over the worst of it, but that didn’t mean he was all the way better yet. Roland should have been resting in bed, not up and about so early he’d beaten the sun! He wasn’t even dressed properly, still in his nightclothes with a dressing gown overtop and his hair loose.

He looked younger like this, Evan thought. Vulnerable and nowhere near as stoic as he usually appeared. That impression wasn’t helped by the helpless shrug that Roland gave him.

“Probably not,” he said, sitting back on his hands. The book that Evan had left for him rested open and near the end in his lap. “But I needed to stretch my legs. Figured a little fresh air would do me some good.”

“So long as it’s just air and not a rain-shower,” Evan grumbled quietly, sitting down with a thump. Up and about the man might have been, but if there were any tasks that needed doing outside of the castle, Evan was surely not bringing Roland along this time! Just because he was relieved to see the man on his feet again didn’t mean he was desperate for another run of this kind of chaos. “Don’t push yourself so hard. It’s alright if you need more time.”

“I know.” Roland chuckled. A gust of wind blew raindrops into the edge of the covered entrance past their feet. “I learned my lesson about taking time off. Working too hard, trying to solve everything alone…” He took a deep breath. “It really just makes things worse, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Evan agreed, pulling his knees up to his chest. His tail twined around his ankles, the tip twitching rapidly back and forth. He hadn’t yet been able to banish the memory of Roland collapsing, and it had somehow melded with the image of Nella falling to the ground as well. A knot of anxiety and fear tightened his stomach; he bent around it, resting his chin on his knees. For a long moment, he contemplated his next words. “So why did you? You could have asked us for help.” He said softly, “You trust us, don’t you?”

Roland startled. “Wha—” He whirled around, eyes wide. “Of course I trust you! It’s just…” He trailed off, looking at the ground between them. A few seconds of uneasy silence ticked by. “…It’s complicated, Evan. There’s a lot of things that I’m still trying to handle and…” Slowly, he shook his head. “No. That’s an excuse. You deserve better than that.”

Evan sat up properly. “Roland?” What did he mean by that? The question ran circles around Evan’s head as he waited, watching while Roland marked his place in the book with the attached ribbon in silence. Another few seconds passed before he spoke again.

“I…” He licked his lips, swallowing visibly. The thumb of his left hand passed over his left ring finger in what appeared to be some sort of nervous gesture. Evan watched him mostly patiently, trying not to squirm, and eventually Roland sighed. He looked out to the city, his voice growing soft.

“There were things that I left unfinished before I came here,” he spoke slowly, seemingly weighing each word before he spoke it aloud. “Things that I…couldn’t quite put behind me, but that I can’t do anything about while I’m here. I needed to do something, but I couldn’t, so I guess I just…turned that need onto helping you.” A smile, tired and rueful, flickered across his face. “And I lost sight of my limits in the process.” He turned to Evan and said sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

Evan shook his head.

“It’s not that I’m not grateful you wanted to help me,” he said quickly, “It’s just that…well…” His ears drooped. “I don’t want to see anyone get hurt trying to help me.”

He couldn’t bear to see someone else he cared about get hurt for his sake. Clutching at his ankles, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He had to say this.

“So please,” he said, trying to project a firm image when all his voice wanted to do was shake. Being an actual King and leading his subjects was proving to be so much harder than he’d thought it would ever be, and he still wasn’t sure what he was doing half the time! But the least he could do was make sure that his subjects were all taken care of. “Take care of yourself first. That will help more than anything else.”

If only because it meant he wouldn’t be laid up in bed for another week again! Roland chuckled softly.

“I will,” he said, then contemplated Evan for a few long seconds. “But you make sure that you do, too. If it’s okay for me to ask for help, it’s okay for you to ask for it, too.”

Evan nodded, looking out towards the town. The sun was rising over the sea, turning the gray mists lighter by the second. “I know. I think I’ll be doing a lot of asking for help from now on.”

He would just need to be sure they didn’t stretch themselves too thin while he got a handle on everything. Surely that would help!

“Good,” Roland said, his voice full of pride. Evan turned and blinked at him, but his friend had turned his face to the rising sun. “You’re a lot wiser than I was at your age.”

“Really?!” That was a shock! Evan found it hard to believe that Roland had really ever been anything but calm and collected, even as a child! Thinking about it, that probably wasn’t fair to the boy that Roland had to have been, but still! He flicked both ears towards the man. “What were you like then?”

“A lot more of a hothead.” Roland replied with a soft laugh. “And a lot more reckless. If she thought this was bad, Aranella would ahve pulled her hair out just trying to put up with me as a kid.”

Now Evan found that very hard to believe. He giggled at the idea that Nella wouldn’t have been able to handle someone to that kind of extent—she’d managed to put up with Batu for this long, after all!

“Surely not that bad!”

“You’d be surprised!” Roland said, “I got into some serious trouble back then.” With another laugh, he shook his head. “Maybe I haven’t changed that much at all.”

Evan shook his head. “Maybe, but I don’t think that’s an entirely bad thing,” he said pensively, “It’s good to be passionate about things, so long as you’re careful and don’t get in too much over your head.” He grinned. “There’s a reason the saying is everything in moderation, isn’t there?”

His grin only got wider as Roland turned a comically surprised face on him.

“That’s…” Roland started, then shook his head. His voice began to shake with quiet laughter. “When did you get so wise?”

“I have some very good teachers,” Evan replied. His tail thumped the ground behind him. “Though one of them should perhaps be back in his bed very soon.”

Roland’s laugh was louder this time, and he picked up the book in one hand.

“Once I’m done with this. I’ve only got one chapter to go, and if I hurry, I might finish before Aranella gets up.” He snorted. “She’d chase me back to bed.”

Yes, she would. Evan’s shoulders shook as he tried to keep quiet. Roland cracked open the book to his marked spot, then glanced over.

“…Would you like to read it to me?” He asked, “Since we’re both awake this time.”

Evan beamed. Scooting over, he reached for the book. The last chapter was when Sage Oliver and his friends had faced the White Witch Cassiopeia and returned her to her senses. It was one of his favorite parts!

“I’d like that,” He said, then cleared his throat.

”The great doors stood before Oliver and his friends, stretching from floor to ceiling…”