#yet another thing that got derailed

[s0fter-sin]

mermay idea

mers keep their faces covered as a way to indicate social status and familiarity. warriors have intricate masks, handcrafted when they win their first battle and the more detailed a mask is, the more accomplished the wearer is. they're rarely shed and are only taken off for their closest kin and mates

warrior bull shark mer!soap seeing human!ghost, seeing his skull mask and immediately knowing he's a high ranking warrior; one to be feared going off the numerous scars covering his body

an ideal and worthy mate, so long as he can prove his prowess

so he follows him as he's deployed on a mission near the ocean and is smitten when he sees how ruthless and capable he is; bathing himself in his enemies blood. he keeps his distance, not wanting to tempt fate but ghost spies the tip of his fin cutting through the water

and he's nothing if not an opportunist; kicking the bodies off the pier to the waiting jaws below

but soap? all he sees is the first step in a courting ritual

and he has to come up with something truly brilliant to match such a glorious offering

on ghost's part, it's been difficult getting people to understand the depths of his dependence on his mask. price thinks it's something to overcome, gaz and other soldiers just think it's an accessory to help with intimidation

the few partners he's tried to have thought he was someone to "fix"; nothing more than an object, a notch on their belt to prove how "good" of a partner they were to put in so much work to make him better. it always leaves him feeling violated, more so than if they'd just taken his mask off outright. one night stands were hardly worth it either; scratching a physical itch but falling so short of the intimacy and connection he craves that he feels worse off than he'd started

when he finally meets the mer that's been hunting him across the country, sees the bright red mask so artfully hewn and attached to his face?

it's like looking at a reflection of himself

he might have finally found the understanding he's been searching for

[seraphdreams]

JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.1k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡

TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.

there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.

and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.

his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.

“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.

it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.

“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.

“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.

pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.

maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”

with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.

it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.

your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.

“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”

GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.

when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.

gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.

“you ready to get started?”

your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.

of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.

after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.

“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”

his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.

“thank you,”

he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?

“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”

“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”

gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.

“i think .. i think i need you.”

with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.

it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.

his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.

yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,

“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”

CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.

a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.

he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.

“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.

there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.

the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.

yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.

“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.

he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.

violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.

“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.

choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.

you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.

it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.

though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.

staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.

from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.

“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”

it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.

GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.

you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.

geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.

“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.

you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.

“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?

or so you thought.

“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”

you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.

he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”

you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“

“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”

from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.

with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.

you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.

“if you do t-that, i might—“

and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.

“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”

[daisiescomelate]

Bad bad wolf

Prompt: Gojo accidentally scared you during a mission and now he's begging you to open the bathroom door and let him talk to you.

Content: Gojo/Reader, angst, cursing, ooc.

div. plutism - masterlist

It was an accident. You knew that. A curse got too close to harm you and he snapped for a second, letting go of his goofy attitude and showing you a side of him that you had yet to meet. He checked in with you, he double checked, and then he triple checked, worried about you being injured or scared of the situation or... him.

You told him you were fine, that it was all good, you were just in shock still —about the curse, of course. You just needed a shower. So he cared your cheek and kissed your palm and drove you home so you could take your bath.

But now you couldn't bring yourself to open the bathroom door.

You rubbed your face and tried to stop your mind from derailing.

I mean, c'mon!

Gojo Satoru was a prophecy made flesh, he was the most powerful sorcerer in Japan, maybe the world. Of course that meant he was dangerous, that he was lethal. I mean hell, you were lethal and your curse technique wasn't even that good.

And you knew Satoru was an asshole with a loose moral compass, and that his silliness was more of a tool of provocation and manipulation than anything else.

But it was different— to actually see it.

Raw power.

Cold blood murder in his eyes and a maniac smile.

A snap of his fingers and life just... vanished as far as the eye could see.

The joy he got from it.

But for God’s sake! It was Satoru. Kisses on your forehead Satoru. Fart jokes Satoru. Pouty lips for cuddles Satoru.

The meaner thing he had ever done to you was putting salt on your coffee as a prank because you weren't the first person to wish him happy birthday! He had never lifted a finger against you. Then why were you so scared?!

The doorbell rang and you heard the front door opening and closing. Satoru began singing some made up lyrics about chinese food that included a falsetto. You heard him walk up to the bathroom door and knock on it, a smile on his voice.

"Babe, food is here!" he said.

You were wrapped on a towel, damped, looking straight into the mirror and trying to calm yourself down. Satoru, it's just Satoru. What's your problem?

His voice echoed on the tile of the room and on your temples. You were suddenly too aware of the water drops falling from the shower head and the cold, wet floor under your feet.

"You have been there forever, babe. Everything alright?"

I'm not ready.

Just breath.

You walked to the door, counting to ten in your head. Just go and open it, you will be fine. He will hug you and everything will be fine.

I want Satoru.

As you extended your hand to the handle, it shaked slightly, catching you off guard. You inhaled sharply and quickly moved to hold it in place.

"I'm alright", you said quickly, a little bit too aggressive even— maybe? Shit, it was an accident, I’m sorry. "I'm fine," you added, trying to be softer this time, "just give me a minute, love. I'll be right out."

"Mmm? Of course, baby."

You heard his footsteps getting away from the door and the clatter of the dishes as he probably set the table for you two. He continued to talk to you through the door.

“Ijichi is already messaging me about another assignment.” He sighed dramatically. “I never get a break, what would these people do without me?”

You heard him turn on the TV and lower the volume to keep it in the background as you liked it.

“One of these days we should ditch them and go on a vacation. What do you think? Fall off the map for a month or two, that would do wonders for my back! We could go to the beach~” Satoru kept walking around, you heard the rustling of clothes as he took off his uniform and put on something clean. “Drink cocktails under the sunset~”, he continued, his voice fading as he left to another room and increasing back again when he returned to the living room area.

“I’ll ask Nanamin to take care of my assignments, he still owes me a favor or two.” You heard the sound of Satoru opening one of his wine bottles.

His voice, that you often found so silly and even sweet, suddenly felt as if it carried a layer of an uncovered threat.

You noticed that you were shaking slightly.

You tried to repress it, sing to yourself, and tell yourself a joke, but nothing had any effect and your legs became weak; you sat on the toilet to prevent yourself from falling.

Time passed, maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour. Satoru had run out of conversation and had fallen into silence. The wait must have been long enough, since the next thing you heard was Satoru right behind the door again.

“Pumpkin pie, I don’t mean to hurry you but dinner is going to get cold!”

You stayed still, hugging yourself to try and find some comfort. Your whole body felt like freezing, and you pinched your skin in a nervous tic without realizing.

"Do you need help with anything? Is it your hair? Do you want me to help you dry it, love?"

Your breathing picked up, an anxious feeling kept bubbling under your skin, making your body suddenly uncomfortable. There was a hint of something in his voice but because of your now rising panic it was hard for you to decipher what it was.

Wasn't the bathroom a little bit too small? Is there really no other way out of here other than that stupid door? Do people hate proper windows on bathrooms that much?

"Love?"

You turned around and glanced at the mirror.

Why are you freaking out?

"Babe?"

You heard the doorknob again and the bathroom door unlocking.

Out of reflex, you slammed it close again.

Silence.

The longest minute.

"Do you need a towel?” Satoru’s voice was oddly cheerful in an awkward attempt to ignore what you just did. “Is that why you don't want me to come in?", he asked, even if he had walked on you naked several times already and that had never been a problem between you two.

Your tongue was too heavy to speak.

"I'm going to go fetch you a towel, okay baby? Be right back."

You felt like crap. You felt like shit. You felt like you couldn't breathe.

Were you really making that big of a deal out of this?

You were embarrassed. You were scared. You wanted to leave. Open the door, push Satoru to one side and bolt. Leave this house.

"I'm back with the towel!" Satoru sang.

It was hard for you to stay quiet, it was hard for you to keep your lungs filled with air, your breathing should be audible now even at the other side of the door.

"Love?"

Your eyes were tearing up.

Satoru paused waiting for an answer but you couldn't mutter any.

"Baby, I'm going in." His tone deeper, not wanting to play his usual façade anymore. He tried pushing the door open again. You pushed your whole weight against it to keep it close.

A hiccup.

No.

No, no, no. Be quiet.

You bit your lip.

Love, please just give me a moment. You prayed to yourself.

A ruffling sound, then he knocked twice.

"Baby, what's wrong, would you let me in, please?", he asked softly.

Please, just wait. Why can’t you wait until I’m ready?

"I'm okay!" You repeated. "Just give me a second."

On the other side Satoru heard your voice tremble.

Fuck.

He buried his hands on his hair and pulled.

Fuck.

He knew he should have kept bothering you about it. You still looked like you were in shock, you were still clearly processing what had happened.

Earlier that day he was told about a case he had to look into. It was a silly little curse, they said, but because there was no one else available they asked Satoru to go, and because he wanted to take you out on a whim, he called you to come along with him.

He was so busy playing around with the weird looking thing, putting on a show for you, that he didn’t notice anything odd about it until later on.

It had the general shape of a human except with longer arms and legs. It moved slowly so as not to lose its balance because of its long limbs. In a rush of excitement as your eyes were glued to him, he moved around it and used his flashiest kicks and punches. He was usually childish for the fun of it, but knowing how much it made you laugh, sometimes it got to his head and turned him actually stupid.

He was more aware of where you were and where you were looking at than he was aware of the curse. He noticed that something was about to go wrong from your expression first rather than by seeing it by himself.

When he turned his head around to look back at the curse it had doubled in size. He was in a jump midair and trying to process what was happening, it took him a second longer to realize that it had suddenly launched at you two with greater strength. At that moment, he was in an awkward position to stop it and whatever move he made would be delayed by a fraction.

He saw it as it happened in slow motion.

It was something outside of your league.

It was suddenly so much faster and wilder, nothing like the slow guy he had been dancing around a second ago.

It noticed the difference in power and you being the most vulnerable of the two.

You and Satoru were separated by a considerable distance. Its form morphed once again. It moved forward, opening a mouth full of raiser teeth, and splitted into two. One half moved in Satoru’s direction and tried to corner him, and the other— jumped aiming at your throat.

Satoru saw red.

When he came back to himself, the woods burned and there was a gaping hole on the earth where the curse had been. He turned around to ask you if you were okay, and as soon as he did his blood went cold. Your eyes were wide open, one hand covering your mouth, the other holding your stomach. Horror.

He was no stranger to that look. Many people looked at him as if he were a monster after they realized what he could do with so little effort. He enjoyed it, sometimes. He didn’t care most of the time. But now he realized he had made a terrible mistake.

Truth be told, when you came about he started to be a little wary of it. He wasn’t hiding it, his reputation preceded him, you were meant to find out about it sooner or later. He was just more cautious. He tried to not overdo it anymore, especially in front of you; he would make up excuses so you couldn’t come with him to certain missions and he would keep a close eye on the noisiest pair of elders so they wouldn’t run their mouths in front of you.

After you came into his life, the title of the strongest was more annoying than ever. Hunting, even. It caught your interest, it always caught everyone’s interest, but how many could look at him the same before and after witnessing what it actually meant?

His heart beated heavily on his chest.

He untangled his fingers from his hair, clearing the lump on his throat, making sure to keep his tone non-threatening.

“I’m not going to open it, baby. You can come out when you’re ready. I will sit right here, yeah?”

Nothing.

Satoru pressed his eyes closed, thinking full speed what he should do next. He was surprised by the rush of adrenaline that embedded his system. His body was instinctively ready to kick the door open but he held himself back. He had to keep a cool head, he needed to avoid scaring you further.

Think.

A sob came out from the bathroom.

No. No, please, don’t cry.

“Love, please. Let me give you a hug. Open the door for me.”

He had been too careless. He needed to apologize properly. He needed to see you and reassure you that he loved you more than anything and he would never hurt you. But at the same time –he realized– he was scared to see that same expression on your face again.

He held both hands to each side of the door frame, letting his head fall. What you two had was still fragile, it was still too early for a problem this size.

He was scared.

He had no right to try to hold you back just yet when this didn't even have a name. He was sure he wanted to keep you with him, he had known for a long time before he approached you to ask for a first date.

It was delicate.

Gojo Satoru was a god, they named him that and so stripped him away from his humanity; like so, he grew up empty. He was scared you could see that, how far away he was from human.

It was dangerous, for you and for him since no matter how many people talked about the lengths of his powers he came to know by experience that there were many things he could still not reach nor control. So many people wanted so much from him, and he attracted so many others with ill intents. On his darkest night he felt the strings that picked at his skin, holding to his limbs. An all powerful puppet.

But he met you and he was fool enough to think he could try.

He placed his hand against the door and called your name in a whisper.

“Please, please, open the door, love.”

But could he really let you go without giving a fight if you rejected him?

“I'm sorry. Please give me another chance. Please talk to me.”

Could he fight this greed that grew on his chest everytime he was around you?

“I would never, ever hurt you–”

His voice cracked.

He felt pathetic.

The reporter talking on TV warned the public of intense rains to come, and the most powerful sorcerer felt his eyes prickling and gritted his teeth.

Around you he didn't feel like the titan that people talked about and recoiled from. He was the Satoru that had been lost along the halls of the Gojo estate as a little kid, and the Satoru that was healed and held before he lost half of his soul later on. He felt complete again. Person again.

But what if he lost all of it. Again. Because of all his power. Again.

His head fell forward as the door opened, just an inch, taking him by surprise. Your eye picked through the crack, your cheek was covered in tears.

He blinked and stared, feeling his heart break by seeing you like this.

“Hello.” He said, a lame attempt to break the silence.

“I'm fine, I promise.” Your voice trembled on every word.

He sighed painfully.

Satoru straightened his posture and held a hand to the door. You visibly trembled and gave a step back, you looked like you wanted to protest but didn't say anything.

He opened the door completely and stepped into the bathroom. You followed his every move with your eyes, you tried to fight back the worst of your instincts, the ones that told you that this man could always do as he wished with you and you wouldn't be able to escape it.

He moved his arms up and you guessed he was going to go for a hug. It was hard for you to reciprocate just now, so instead you closed your eyes and nodded, to let him know it was okay.

But you didn't expect to be hugged by the waist, his head on your stomach.

You opened your eyes with confusion. Satoru was kneeling over the bathroom floor, hugging your legs with his head buried on your towel.

“I swear” he said in all seriousness, “I will never hurt you.”

He squished a little bit more, almost making you fall out of balance.

“I swear”, he repeated.

You felt his desperate grip, and as his fear sinked in, your's wavered, and you could finally feel how truly wrong you were about fearing this man.

“Satoru…” you called.

“Mhmm?” He said but didn't look up the way you wanted to so you could see his dazzling eyes.

You buried one hand in his silk hair and carefully ran your fingers through it. “Love, look at me.”

He refused, pressing his face harder against you.

You kneeled instead. There were you, with your face covered in tears with nothing but a towel, and Satoru with wet sweatpants on the damped floor and refusing to let you see him. You hugged him and felt his heart beating fast against his chest matching your's.

“I am the one who is sorry.” You whispered.

He held you with all his strength, almost leaving you out of air.

“I believe you. I don't know why I reacted that way. But I promise I believe you and that won't happen again.”

His breath shook against the skin of your neck. You run your fingers along his nape, reassuring him. He nodded and kissed your neck before ultimately raising his head and looking at you.

There were no tears but his eyes shined brighter. You held his face with both hands and brought him down so your noses would touch. The way he looked at you with those eyes, as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. You saw it clear as day, you had nothing to fear.

You moved closer so your lips would touch just slightly, “I love you, Satoru”, you said.

“I love you too”, he whispered.

[barcaatthemoon]

steady as she goes || jenni hermoso x reader ||

it was just as easy to remember why you fell for jenni as it had been to fall for her.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

there was something about the way that jenni stared down that made your heart race. the two of you had been together for years, nearly a decade already. even throughout the turbulent times, you wouldn't have traded any of it for a second with someone else. jenni was perfect for you, something that you had known early on in the relationship.

you could remember the night she asked like it was yesterday. at first, you didn't want anything to do with jenni, but she was persistent. jenni kept at you without being overly pushy, something that you really appreciated. she knew that there were some rumors surrounding her from different clubs, but jenni had proven to you that she wasn't like that before the question of sex had really ever come up.

"can i ask you something kind of personal?" jenni sounded nervous. you didn't think that jenni had ever really been nervous in front of you. she was naturally flirtatious, and whenever she wanted you to feel special, she just focused her efforts a little better. "well, it's not kind of personal, it's very personal. and before you ask, i swear on my mother that i didn't ask sandra."

"ask sandra what?" you felt a flash of fear, but you hid it well. there was only really one thing that jenni would learn specifically from sandra that could possibly make her nervous. sandra had let it slip to the woman you had just started dating that you were still a virgin. for a moment, you could have strangled your best friend, who had sworn that she wouldn't tell jenni.

"i didn't ask if you were a virgin, i swear. i wouldn't ask that, not behind your back. she asked me how things were going, and i told her that i wanted you to stay over, and she mentioned it," jenni rambled. you got over your own anger to cup her cheeks and kiss her cheek.

"relax, there was something else you wanted to say or else you wouldn't have brought it up, jenni," you reminded her. jenni mumbled a small thanks towards you before she took a deep breath. jenni seemed to be working hard to regain her composure, something that you had not seen much of yet. jenni didn't get nervous or derailed, she was always seemingly carefree and a little happy-go-lucky.

"will you let me be your first?" jenni meant well with her question. a part of you knew that she meant well, and in hindsight, it had been sweet of her to ask you like that. however, in the moment, you were livid.

each second that jenni watched you try to process her question was hell. it only seemed to get worse for a while after that. you had avoided jenni, seemingly forgetting the fact that she was only a couple days away from going all the way back to madrid. you two didn't get to see each other at all for another month when you both had a break. still, jenni had tried to text and call you each day with a different apology. it had been a bit annoying at first, but within a week you had begun to forgive her.

jenni kept her distance physically with you when she came back again. you hated that she wasn't being her normal clingy self. you missed the kisses and borderline inappropriate touching. that was a huge part of jenni, one that you loved almost more than any other part. she made you feel loved, and had taken away a lot of the fears you had surrounding affection and intimacy.

"jenni, will you be my first?" you asked her as the two of you stood outside of her apartment. jenni had hopped on a plane solely to fly with you back to madrid for the week. you thought it was a bit ridiculous, but jenni had been insistent. she wanted to spend every second that she could with you, even if it had resulted in her being a bit jetlagged your first night there.

"perdon?" jenni's keys fell out of her hand and clattered on the ground. she believed that she had to have heard you wrong. there was no way that you had just asked her to take your virginity, not after the debacle in barcelona. "come again?"

"will you be my first? i want you to take my virginity. tonight, please," you said. jenni swallowed as she turned around to face you. for a moment, you thought she was going to try and do it there, so you stopped her when she came in for a kiss. "not out here."

"never, in my bed. maybe on the couch tomorrow if you're up to it. there's also the shower, the kitchen counter, the dining room table and the railing on the balcony. oh, and we'll have to christen the rooms at your place in barcelona," jenni joked. you rolled your eyes at her, but you were glad for the jokes. they really helped to lighten things up, and suddenly, you weren't as scared about going into jenni's bedroom.

jenni never would have made you do anything while you were scared, she wasn't like that. you don't think that anybody had ever checked in on you as many times as jenni had that night. for all of the joking that jenni liked to do, that night she had been completely serious. nothing was taken lightly by the striker once the two of you entered your bedroom.

you learned the meaning of body worship that night. the time not spent kneeling between your legs had been spent exploring every other part of your body. jenni moved slowly as if she was trying to commit your body to her memory with each of her touches and kisses. it was pleasurable, but also torturous in a way that you had never known before. you loved that jenni was taking her time to get to know your body, but you were also getting desperate for more.

"shh, relax bebe. you're doing so well," jenni cooed from between your legs. she had just managed to work two of her fingers inside of you. despite all of your wetness, you felt impossibly tight. jenni recognized it for your nerves and thoughts getting the better of you. she had tried to stop, but you had refused to let her. you felt like you'd explode with frustration if she stopped.

"jenni, i think that i'm close," you told her. the feeling was somewhat familiar, only a thousand times more intense. you didn't understand how jenni could make you cum better than you could do for yourself. however, you had noted that jenni's touches were far different than your own. there was something special about the things she could do to you with her hands.

"that's it. breathe for me." jenni guided you through the waves of pleasure that threatened to pull you under. she wanted to touch you more, but jenni didn't want to overwhelm you. that night, she held you and waited patiently for you to come to her again. there was a look in your eyes that had scared jenni, but the thought that you wanted her that badly was absolutely enthralling.

ten years later, and that look hadn't faded one bit. there had once been a time that you had cursed your feelings for jenni, unaware that the two of you would ever get through your rough patches. you felt a little silly now for feeling that way then whenever you looked down at your wedding ring. jenni could be a lot of things, but underneath all of it was the woman who had been painstakingly careful with every part of you once you opened up to her.

"i love you," you mumbled as you ran your hand through jenni's hair. for a moment, you thought jenni might have been asleep until you felt her lips press against your sternum. she shifted her body so that she was directly on top of you and began to trail kisses up from your chest.

"i love you. i always will." jenni finally dropped down and pressed a kiss to your lips. you pulled back a little after the first couple to look into her eyes, unsurprised to find them watering just a little. the moments like these, jenni often found herself a little overwhelmed. she rarely actually cried, but you knew that they were always happy tears when you did.

[chrollohearttags]

like a stallion • r. braun x black fem reader

reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together.

cw: pervy reiner (honestly just simping for his wife), black fem chubby reader, car sex, oral sex, reverse cowgirl, squirting, spit play use of pet names and daddy, breeding, self indulgent bc I am a whore first and human second. This isn’t a full fic, just a drabble

📝: minors get the fuck off of my page, you are not welcomed.

reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together. The different shows, the various stands selling food and souvenirs for first time attendees and all the other like minded country folk that you guys found yourselves mingling with. But his driving force behind dragging you along to these events? The outfits you wore! It wasn’t uncommon for him to catch you sporting something skimpy, sexy and revealing. A tight crop top with cowboy boots and a hat to match. Complimenting that curvy body, tiny little skirts that barely covered that thick ass as he dressed in his t-shirts, thin silver necklace with a cross dangling from the end, Wranglers and matching shoes that compliment yours. His six foot five, three hundred fifty pound frame standing starkly over yours as you two walked hand in hand through the bustling crowd. The Rodeo was always the highlight of many people’s year but for Reiner..the main attraction was always you. Oh yes, he could barely contain himself as the two of you settled into your seats, excited to watch the bull riding competition. That glowing, rich skin glistening in the sunlight..your complexion the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and only amplified by the glittery sun oil you slicked yourself up with. Big bouffant curls tucked up underneath that hat and your gorgeous face peering up at him in excitement. It’s enough to make his heart flutter and face burn red, as it got him every time. “Look, babe! Did you see that?” Your voice reigning him back in as he derailed his train of thought to those less than appropriate. He couldn’t be vexed to pay those damn animals any attention when he was too busy watching your big breasts nearly spill from that corset top. “Y-yeah. That was really cool.” Delectable and succulent like two ripe melons..ones he wanted to get his mouth on so badly he could taste it. Flicking his pink tongue around those brown nipples; his vision adverting to your thighs shortly thereafter. Seeing that thickness squished makes him only want to part them even more. So thick it was mere seconds from ripping your denim. Knowing what lies in the center and he’s practically salivating to sink his cock between it. And what really sends him over the edge? Is when you guys decide to check out the mechanical bull and he’s watching you bounce around, he can feel his pants become a tad bit tighter. The thought of him being underneath you instead getting him riled up. That body was like the finest thoroughbred..stacked like that of a stallion and it drove him crazy with every passing second.

so honestly, it comes as no surprise when it comes time for intermission and he can’t help but to whisk you away to his Ford F350 parked out on the grass lot. Propping your legs up on the dash and console as he ate your pussy right there in the front seat. He couldn’t even be bothered to get your clothes off fully; letting those tiny denim shorts dangle around your ankle and leaving your panties on as he sucked your clit through the thin material like a man unhinged. “Mmmm…Rei. Wait, baby! Fuck..” laughing as you had to all but push him away when you reached yet another orgasm thanks to his mouth. Sloppily devouring that dripping cunt and savoring every bit of the flavor. A smirk curdled across his lips as they were stained with your sticky nectar. “What f’r, darling? It didn’t seem like ya’ wanted me to stop from the way ya’ were moaning.” But you were afraid if he didn’t, you’d wet both his beard and his t-shirt up. But your husband didn’t seem to mind one bit! Especially when he sank those thick fingers of his into your tight little cunt and drew the liquid out, leaving you spasming on nothing more than air once you came. “Now look at that..best fucking show I’ve seen all day.” The excitement between you guys only grew tenfold when you practically whimpered; begging him to unfasten his big belt buckle and let you get a taste of your own. Wasting no time in grasping at his cock, pumping it in your palm..inhaling sharply through your teeth as he had awoken your salacious thoughts as well. It didn’t take long before he found himself engulfed..those plump, gloss slackened lips swallowing that dick in its entirety. Your desire to please and drain him dry all but apparent by your needy whimpers that hummed so gently against his shaft. The sounds of constant sloshing and sucking like heavenly melodies to his ears. Sloppily drenching all nine inches in a haze of saliva. Regardless of the gagging noises and cries you emitted. It wasn’t until you glared directly into his eyes, fixated on you as he watched his balls disappear between your jaws and that shaft enclosed between your acrylic fingertips. He had to all but pry you away; leaving that mouth a disheveled mess..one he added to by squeezing your cheeks together and spitting onto your tongue. “G-ahh..get on top of me, baby..right now.” Demanding in that deep southern drawl; breath shaky from being sucked off so fucking good. Allowing you to crawl onto his spread thighs, setting you atop his lap and fully erect dick. Pulsating the second it made contact with that fat pussy. “Put it in me, please Rei…” immediately after finding yourself filled to the brim and being bounced around on that cock..thrashing around inside of you with your breasts pressing the steering wheel. Reiner reclined the seats back, watching in a full blown trance as that round, thick ass ricocheting off of him; catching faint glimpses of that grip each time you slid up and down. That creamy slick puddling between your flesh each time you took him. “Yeah..ride that dick. You’re fuckin’ me so good, darling..making a mess all over me..”breath hitching as he struggled to form a coherent thought. Being ridden like this made anything else pale in comparison and what truly took it over the top were the sights of you only in your white boots and hat..something so sexy about it! You’d look back, tongue extended out and a toothy grin on your pretty face as you fucked him senseless. “Mmm…you know how wet this pussy gets for you, daddy… ‘wanna nut all over this dick.” Declaring as you cried out loudly. You didn’t give a fuck if anyone spotted or heard the two of you at this point. The tinted windows were already coated in a hazy fog and the frame began to rock from the outside. Causing a calamity of noise.. with the combination of nasty smacking sounds, thunderous clapping of skin and expletives being hurled back and forth at each other. You telling him to slap your ass and grab your neck..even commanding that he rub your clit with those fingerpads to him telling you how badly he wanted to nut inside of you.

no one had ever fucked him like this and vice versa…that pussy was his and he’d fill the entire womb whenever he felt like it. It was only shortly thereafter, among your exchange that he was only mere seconds from doing so. “Hold still..fuck!” Aggressively grunting in your ear as he grasped those hips and pounded up into that warmth. “Yeah! Fuck this pussy, daddy..fuck it..ahh shit!” Cursing as you clawed at the leather dash; whimpers choked out by his large hand around your neck. You could feel that shaft pulsating inside of you and before long, his strokes became erratic..to the point he couldn’t even maintain a rhythm and he emptied that hot, creamy load to the rim..with baited breath and quite honestly, bitch like cries. “Fuck..you came in me so hard..filled my little pussy..” that high pitched, dumbed out, dizzy voice making him twitch..you had successfully drained him everything he had to offer; the previous one residing in your throat and all over your tits. Needless to say, you guys had to cut your outing short but the night was far from done, as he plans to go for another round or two once he got you home…once he found the strength to get you guys there! But one thing he did know for sure..

“Yeah..that’s what you get f’r wearing that sexy ass outfit around me..ya’ know I can’t help myself..”

was that he’d never be able to resist you, no matter what.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Can you write Miles 42 freaks out and gets a little mad but like not mad but like surprised reaction where read kisses him for the first time

Ooh that's an interesting reaction. Sure thing!

You shivered as a chilly breeze whipped past your face on the roof of Miles' apartment. He had warned you that it'd be cold up here after inviting you inside, as was your weekly routine.

His side profile was carved out against the hazy blue skyline of the city. It was slowly getting dark, but you could still see Miles' brows knit together the way they did when you watched him doodle in the margins of his homework.

"You said you wanted to tell me something?" you asked, shoving your hands in the pockets of your hoodie.

Miles worried his bottom lip with his teeth before shaking his head. "Um, yeah, I..." he trailed off.

You moved closer until your elbow was brushing against his as he gripped the balcony railing.

"Uh-huh?"

The boy exhaled, then turned to face you.

"I like you," he just barely got out.

You stared at him for what might’ve been the longest ten seconds of his life, searching his face for a twitch of laughter.

"Miles, I can't tell if you-"

"I'm dead serious."

All you could do was nod silently as your heart beat in your ears. Miles started fidgeting with his sleeve.

"W-we don't have to go out, or nothing, I just needed to tell you," he added quickly, trying to keep his voice low and even. The tails of his sentences were breathy and betrayed him.

If you left right now, he'd have to go back to eating lunch upstairs, but Rio would stop asking if you two had gone on your first date yet. Uncle Aaron wouldn't have to cut his eyes at you like that anymore. It would all be over soon.

Miles' dark eyes reflected the street lights as they remained fixed on you, waiting.

"Feeling's mutual," you finally responded.

"What-?"

Suddenly, your cold fingers were brushing his face as you lightly pressed your lips to his. When you pull away, his eyes are the size of dinner plates.

Miles' feet gain a mind of their own and start to back him away from the railing. He had planned to sit in his room and play video games to console himself once you left, but now, you had derailed his plans and left him flailing. The look on your face broke his heart.

"Oh my god, were you not cool with that?" you asked, hands held out as if in defense. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"No," he interrupted, taking careful steps towards you, "you just caught me off-guard. My fault."

He saw your eyes flicker towards the exit leading into the stairwell.

Before you can turn to leave, Miles grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. It was his turn to cup your face. You feel his hands tremble as he goes in for another kiss.

-

I hope this was what you had in mind or somewhere close to that 😭 thanks for reading!

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Seven: Better Together

a/n: here’s chapter seven of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering, and a whole lot of praise. (7k words)

masterlist

——

Life returns to normal after the gala. Or—mostly normal. You wake in the mornings, greet your husband as he sips his coffee, and you…don’t kiss. And it’s not like you don’t want to; in fact, you do. Really, really badly. One time isn’t enough. Suddenly you’re addicted to the taste of him, and yet you’ve only gotten the smallest hint. A tease at what could be. 

When you returned to your home after the gala, Charlie greeted you both at the door with a bark and a demand for endless pets and cuddles. You’d curled up on the couch as always, you in your dress and him in his tuxedo, with Charlie sprawled out across both your laps. 

Both of you had taken turns looking at one another when you’d thought the other wasn’t paying attention. Would watch Steve’s profile, count the dots on his skin, wonder if he’d lean in if you traced them with your mouth. Wondered what sound he’d make if you ventured further, southward against his neck, and trailed the marks you knew were there as well. And as you’d look down at Charlie, Steve would look at you, watching as though you were far more entertaining than any movie he’d put on.  

Later that evening he’d stood by your doorway and thanked you for joining him that afternoon, leaned down and kissed your forehead, and you’d slipped into your bedroom and changed. When you returned, he remained at your bedroom door, mouth opened to speak to say something, anything, and yet no words had come out. Only the sounds of his struggle. 

So you stepped forward and curled your arms around his waist. Thanked him for a beautiful night, for dancing with you, for being there for you. And then you’d closed your bedroom door and listened as Steve called Charlie into his bedroom, your own hand reaching over your bed side table to shut the lights off, enveloping the room in darkness. 

It carried on like that for days. 

Then weeks. 

You wondered if Steve regretted it all. 

 ——

 Steve hated meetings. The endless meetings. Meetings that kept him away from home, away from comfortability, away from Charlie, away from you. 

It’s a reality that crept upon him slowly, and then swiftly all at once. This realization that he’d rather jump and fall with you than never have taken a risk and jumped at all. Found himself willing to do all of that with you. Trusted you enough to be gentle with him, even despite all your teasing, your jabs, your barbs. 

But now he wants to make sure you know just what this all means to him. Wants to make sure you don’t go a day without knowing that, even though his life is in a constant state of immediacy and pressure from those around him, you’re important. You’re deserving of feeling loved, appreciated, and valued every day. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Harrington,” Hailey, his assistant, asks from behind her computer screen. 

“Can you have flowers sent to my address?”

There’s a knowing smile on her face as she asks, “For your wife?”

“For my wife,” he says, and though it’s been your title for months now, it makes his mouth run dry, because there’s the deeper meaning of possibly more now. 

What exactly that more might be is still to be determined, but more nonetheless. 

“Red roses are nice this time of year,” she muses. “Do you want me to have a card written out as well?”

 ——

 Honey, 

I’m sorry I’ve been so holed up with work. With the holidays coming up, things are extra chaotic. I know you’ve been really wanting a spa and nail day for yourself, so I made you an appointment for three tomorrow. Before you argue with me, you deserve it. Please. For me?

The card is signed at the bottom with ‘your husband,’ and you nearly crush the card stock to your chest, smiling down at the bouquet of fresh roses you’ve already set on your kitchen table. 

Charlie lifts his head, collar jingling as he clambers to his feet and stops near your hip. Dropping down to your knees, you rub at his floppy ears, grin still stretching your lips. 

“Charlie Boy, you really do have the best doggy dad.” He licks at your chin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you giggle airily. “We are pretty lucky, aren’t we?”

 ——

 By the time you return from your massage and nail appointment, and the private elevator leading to the penthouse dings, your home already smells wonderful. And the sight that greets you—even better. 

Steve’s frantically running around the kitchen, calling out, “Honey, you’re early!”

“What is happening here?” You walk into the kitchen, a little mystified as Steve rushes forward and brushes a kiss along your temple, your hand coming up to rest on his sternum in wide eyed shock. He’s already set up the kitchen table, wine glasses filled with red wine, candles lit, placemats set out and the dishes you got from your bridal shower on display. “Flowers and dinner?”

“It was supposed to be ready by the time you got home. But Charlie was acting up on his walk. I looked into those puppy training classes, but I want to go to one where I can be there with him.” He pauses, laying the towel he has draped over his shoulder onto the countertop, pulling you into your normal hug whenever you come home from quite literally anywhere. “I thought…well, I know I’ve been busy, and we haven’t exactly had a chance to spend much time together. So I figured I’d make us dinner and we could eat it, you know, together.” 

You glance up at him through your lashes, noting the hand that comes up behind his neck to rub nervously. “With candles?” 

“So I thought it could also—but only if you want it to—be a…date?” 

“We’re married,” you point out, wanting to watch him squirm just a little bit more. Because you know what he means. 

“We are, yeah. But…I figured after the gala there were some tougher conversations we might need to have. Unless you wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, which in that case I understand—”

He’s silenced by your hand gliding up and across his chest, curling at the nape of his neck, and dragging him flush against you, lips gliding softly over his own. When you pull back, his eyes flutter rapidly, tops of his cheeks staining the same color of the fresh tomatoes he has open in a container on the kitchen counter. 

Brow arching, your fingers still around the back of his neck, you ask, “Need further clarification?”

“Maybe?” 

He swallows, curling an arm around the small of your back. He noses at your cheek, your skin prickling in anticipation as he slots his lips over yours again. Warm, gentle, inviting. A sigh spills from you as your pocketbook drops to the ground, your other hand joining the one around Steve’s neck, chests closing in tight, hips flush together.  

“Steve…you made me dinner,” you muse, smiling as his forehead rests against yours, swaying you back and forth to the music he is playing from a speaker on the countertop. 

The backs of his knuckles brush the line of your temple, your cheek. “I’ve made you dinner before.”

“But not like this. With all the wine and candles.”

“Well, I was trying to make a grand gesture.” 

“Just like with my little spa day?” Your heart kicks up at that. Threatens to grow wings and fly away. Because he’s gone out of the way to do this. For you—for you. 

“Yes,” he admits. “I’m—I haven’t done this in a long time. I had to ask my assistant for some tips, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.” 

He’s laughing, but you know Steve. You know he means his words. Know enough about him to tell that when he makes a decision, he commits to it, wants to go above and beyond, and works his hardest at it. So when he says he wanted to make a grand gesture, that he even sought out outside advice, you know he’s sincere.

And you know whatever this is, whatever is brewing between the two of you, is delicate. It needs the space to grow, to be nurtured and tended to, if only so it can bloom into all it’s meant to be. If it’s meant to be. 

“Well, you’re doing amazingly,” you tell him, hands sliding down from the back of his neck to rest against his chest. 

The rapid thump of his heart beats beneath your fingertips, not wholly unaffected by the newness of touch, of…whatever new shape your marriage is beginning to take on. His fingers slide over the back of yours, brushing over your knuckles, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that has your throat running dry. 

That is, until Charlie notes your presence and barrels into the kitchen, paws slamming into your hip, demanding a proper hug. There to oblige him, you brush at his floppy ears, your side to Steve’s chest, one of his arms around you, the other also ruffling Charlie’s floppy head, pink puppy tongue lapping over unassuming fingers. Once the little guy is satisfied, you maneuver around Steve and tug your rings free from your finger, quickly washing your hands before sliding them back into place. 

Steve watches you intently as you wiggle the stones into place on the digit, admiring them for a moment. “You look beautiful, by the way.” 

“If I’d known we were having dinner by candlelight, I’d have worn something a little nicer,” you tell him, waving a hand around your figure, to the pair of dark wash jeans on your thighs and the slouchy knit sweater that hangs a little loosely off of one shoulder. All gifts from your mother-in-law’s business. 

He's still wearing his slacks, having had to go to a job site despite it being Saturday and your favorite powdery blue button up he wears. Brings out the greenness in his hazel eyes, a fact you only know because that spill you’d taken on the treadmill some weeks ago now, and the kiss at the gala, where you’d gazed into them long after he kissed you, marveling at the man.  

“You look perfect,” he reassures you, gripping your shoulders and leading you into the living room. “Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes, so you kick your feet up, I already put out your slippers and some of your cozy socks you like. And give me one second and I’ll grab you your glass of water. Oh—and here’s a blanket.”

“Steve.” You laugh as your husband whirls around you like a storm, gathering all the things he mentions as he goes. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” 

“No, no.” He rushes back over with your water and places it in your hand. “You just relax.” 

And you’re not about to argue with your husband. Not when he looks like this, hair windswept, facial hair freshly trimmed, forearms on full display because he’s spent the better part of the afternoon preparing a home cooked meal for you. For your date night. 

True to his word, your meal is ready a half hour later, his form appearing before you, one hand outstretched for you to take. He helps you to your feet, making room for you at his side, and walks you the distance to your kitchen table. He’s dimmed the lights a bit more, the candle on the table bathing the room in an orange firelight. The man in question slides your chair out and gestures for you to sit despite your protesting, and pushes you in closer to the table once you’ve sat. 

He then rushes around to the other side of the table and sits across from you, gesturing to the various things he has strewn about on the table. 

Your bowls are already full of fresh spaghetti, sauce just the way you prefer. There are meatballs in one glass container, and cheese in another bowl beside. He’s even made garlic bread, which rests in a little basket you’d received for your bridal shower. Everything smells delicious, makes your mouth water as you lift your wine glass and raise it in the air, waiting for Steve to clink his glass against yours. 

“This all looks and smells so amazing, Steve. Seriously.” 

Grateful. You’re immensely grateful as the two of you start to dig into your meals, quiet chatter about your days shared over glasses of wine, spaghetti, and delicious garlic bread. He talks about the newest build on a property, and you explain your week of clinicals ahead, and the desire for your Thanksgiving break to finally approach so you can have some real time to simply relax and just be. 

“That reminds me,” he begins, sipping his water. “My mom is doing Thanksgiving at her house this year. It’ll be a small event. Just my grandmother and Theobald, Cami and their kids. Unless we wanted to go back to Hawkins? It’s really up to you…I haven’t told my mom our plans.”

“My dad and Caroline are actually going to spend the weekend with my grandmother. I figured we would be doing something with your family, so I told my dad we’d be around for the holidays at some point—if that’s okay.” 

“Absolutely,” he says, brushing his fingers over yours where they lay interlaced in the middle of the table. “Splitting the holidays. That was easy enough.”

“We’re getting good at this, Harrington,” you tease. 

“That was my next…topic of conversation.” The status of your relationship. The questions as to what this is and isn’t. The decisions of where you go from here. 

“Right.” You place your fork down against your bowl, swallowing thickly. “So there was the gala.”

“That happened.” His fingers brush yours again, a comforting sweep. Back and forth, back and forth, like a sweet little metronome. “So I guess the question is…what do we want it to mean? Because I want to start by making it clear to you that I do, uh, have feelings for you.”

Chest tightening, you grip his fingers tighter, feeling the corners of your smile tick upwards. “I have feelings for you too. So…now that we have that out of the way…”

“I want to do more of this. Buying you flowers and going out together alone. On real dates. No business obligations attached. Just spending time with you, getting to know you, exploring this.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to do this,” he says, squeezing your fingers. Then, he leans over the top of the table to brush your lips briefly with his mouth. “And that, if you’d like to.” 

Your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m…very open to all of that.”

“We don’t complicate it with more labels.”

“We just let things happen the way they’re meant to.”

Let the pieces fall where they may. Without the pressure of placing any expectation on it. Exploring the parameters of your relationship while legally married, knowing either way at the end of it all you can go your separate ways. It’s a terrifying risk, but you know in your heart it’s worth it to at least try.

“Exactly.” 

“Sounds like a deal, Mr. Harrington. We should shake on it.” He holds out his hand between the two of you jokingly, but you’re leaning in once more, breath teasing along his lower lip, and he knows you’re not interested in sealing this deal with a mere handshake. Instead, you seal it with a kiss, resting in the warmth of his skin against your own. 

A little breathless when he pulls away, Steve whispers, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Harrington.” 

 ——

 You’re no expert on Steve Harrington. Not by any means, even after the five months you’ve now been married. Since the moment you decide to begin a real relationship, you start to really explore the intricacies of your husband. He’s a morning person, he likes things a certain way, and he can tend to get flustered easily—though he won’t let it show. You can still sense it in the tension in his shoulders, the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw. And today, as you sit on your living room couch with Charlie’s head resting on your thigh, and a book on the other, you sense it in the way he walks into your home with a hollow stare. 

The way he buries his face in Charlie’s neck as he enters the living room and the puppy knocks him onto the ground. The way his eyes are red rimmed as he finally extricates himself from the flailing set of paws on the ground and makes his way over to where you sit, kissing you in greeting. Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tilting his head to look at him—to really look at him. His cheeks are damp, and your heart nearly cracks down the center at the implication there. 

Briefly, you imagine your husband’s forearms straining as he grips the steering wheel in his car. Imagine the tears he must have hid in his car before coming up to see you. Because he hadn’t wanted you to see. Not really. Always so bright and loving, always so strong for you. 

“Steve?” It comes out as a whisper, and he’s turning his head from you, his breath a shaky inhale as he tips his head to the ceiling. “Are you—”

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. Long day, I just want to get to bed early. Rain check on our movie?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, frown growing. “Sure.”

He’s gone. Disappears from the room without another word, leaving you in the solitude of the unknowing. The wondering if he’s okay, what he’s thinking, if there’s anything you can do to help improve his mood. With the click of his bedroom door in the distance, you try to focus on your book, on the television playing in the background, on Charlie’s breathing. But the longer you go without him, the more you fret. Wanting to be near him, if only to be there as a presence, as something who cares for the brooding man down the hall. 

Resolve settling into place, you toss your things into the kitchen sink and make your way down the hall, gather some clothes to change into for bed, and pause when you arrive in front of Steve’s bedroom. Nervous knuckles hover over the doorway, knocking twice—and then linger. Wait as silence drapes over the room, leaving your heart to race within your chest. 

“Steve…?” You call out his name into the silence, voice a little wobbly. Nervousness ebbs and flows as the silence prolongs. As you’re met with nothing but your own breathing to keep you company. 

And then, very quietly, “Yeah, baby?” 

The newness of the title sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You push it away, wanting more so right now to comfort the man inside than anything else. Fingers curl around the door handle, pushing it open just enough to see the man laying there in a pair of sweatpants, room chilly from the central air, bare chest on display. His hair is in disarray, face freshly washed, hair still damp from his shower. There’s the slightest hint of his vanilla shampoo in the air, a comforting sugary sweetness synonymous with your husband. 

“Can I…can I come in?” The door opens a little wider, leaving room for Charlie to prance on in, settling himself on the doggy bed in the far corner of the spacious room. 

Steve lets out a long sigh, fingers curled around his phone moving to place the device on his bedside table. He slides his glasses off his face next, popping them into his glasses container, before settling back down against the fluffy pillows and offering you the slightest hint of a smile. 

“Sure,” he says, a little softly, a little strained. 

Heart dropping into your stomach, you glance down at the small heap of clothes in your hand, and then to the adjoined bathroom. “Do you mind if I—”

Processing your question, he shakes his head, seemingly a little faraway from you. “No, yeah. Please.” 

Without another word, you slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click. A long exhale spills from your lips. Dressing quickly, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Thin sweatpants, a comfortable hoodie, face freshly washed and dried. Satisfied, you toss your clothes into the nearby hamper and slip out of the bathroom, wandering over to the side of the bed. Brows raising imploringly, Steve lifts the edge of the comforter in answer, allowing you to crawl into the space he’s created with his body. 

You choose the pillow beside him. Close enough where you can feel his heat, can run your fingers along the side of his body if you wish, could lace your fingers through his. But you’re not crossing the proverbial pillow wall unless he gives permission to do so. As much as you want to.  

“Did something happen at work?” you ask him, smiling as his hand reaches over and brushes along the back of your forearm. 

“Just the usual. People think I’m…too young to really know what I’m talking about. Anything that goes wrong is thrown at me, and I get those looks of disappointment. And I just think if only my dad were here. If only he were here, I’d know what to do. But I don’t. I don’t and then Theo looks at me like he’s so happy to see me fucking it all up. Because that will have meant he was right.”

“That he was right?” Your head shifts on the pillow, eyes flickering up to his as he angled his head a bit and takes in the sight of your face in the dimly lit bedroom. 

Shifting, he rolls over onto his side, head resting on the pillow mere inches from yours. His hands settle beside yours, his fingers brushing along the backs of yours, gently lacing them together after a moment, squeezing tight. “That I’m not ready. That I wasn’t ready. That the company should have gone to him.” 

“But that’s not true, Steve. You’re a hard worker. I know you are. You sacrifice so much for everyone, even me, and they have to see all of that. They have to. No one is perfect—not all the time, anyway.” He leans into your touch, your free hand having come up in the middle of your speech to rest over the stubbly cheek of your husband. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, turning just enough to press a kiss into the center of your palm. Your skin tingles in answer, smile warming your cheeks. 

“Always, Steve. Always. You’re there for me, I’m there for you. It’s an even exchange.” 

“You know, Theo hates me because he spent years training under my father. He spent all that time thinking the company would be going to him one day. And…I honestly thought that, too. I was shocked when I saw my name.” He pauses, mouth flattening into a straight line. Your thumb glides over his stubbly cheek once more, encouraging him to continue. “The company should have gone to him. But it didn’t. So I thought maybe my dad saw something in me that I didn’t. But every time I fuck it all up, I can just picture the face he always made when I did something wrong, and I always hated when he looked at me like that.”

“When he looked at you like what?”

“Like I was a disappointment.”

And there it is. The words that immediately wedge a knife into your heart for him. The thought of a younger Steve, wanting his father to see him for him. Not for what he could do for the company, not what he lacked, but merely for being his son. The youngest Harrington. A child to a man who expected so much of him. Placed him on a pedestal he’d never been meant to stand on, only to watch him fail time and time again in the eyes of someone who never would be happy. Not really. 

“You are not a disappointment.” The vehemence in your voice shocks you. But the anger brimming in your blood is not for the man lying beside you. No, it’s for the man who no longer resides on this side of earth, and yet has engraved years of doubt within your husband’s heart. 

“You’re biased.” He sighs, breaking off into a laugh. At the quick shake of your head, he continues, “It’s silly, maybe, but I thought maybe if I could just do right by the company, my father would finally be proud of me from wherever he is now.”

“Steve…” Your body burrows closer to his, sighing as an arm slides low along your waist. Pulls you closer. Close enough where you can wrap your arms around him and press your cheek into his collarbone. 

He exhales deeply. “We never had a close relationship. My parents were a bit older when they had me. His form of love was a stern yell when I got a C in class instead of an A. Or pointing out every bad swing in baseball, because ‘Harrington’s are winners.’ It was only when I got older we talked more, and I think that was more so because once I was old enough to, he expected me to work for him. So I was more a worker than a son.”

“You just wanted him to notice you.” And that breaks your heart. Makes your eyes burn in a way that has you sniffing loudly. 

“Silly, right?” His chest shakes with the rasp in his voice, and you grant him the privacy of his emotions, keeping your face pressed tight against his chest as he heaves with the weight of it all. 

“Not at all. You shouldn’t have ever had to fight for his love. No child should. You’re his son. That should mean everything. I’m so sorry.”

“My mom and I really only got closer when he passed. I think she realized I’m really all she has left. And I wanted to resent her for it, be mad that it took him dying for her to notice me, you know? But I couldn’t.”

Sighing, you run your hands up and down the lines of his hard back, smiling to yourself when he relaxes further into your embrace. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be loved by the people who should love you the most.” Leaning back a bit to look in his eyes, you catch the softness there. Note the way his eyes flicker from your eyes and downward to your lips, then drift back up again. “We crave it as humans. And you have such a big heart, Steve. I’m not surprised you were able to be open to her, even after all the years of hurt you must have experienced.”

Huffing, he leans his forehead against yours. “You’re being too nice.”

“I am nice, Steve. I’m only partially serious when I joke about killing you in your sleep.”

That has him smiling. And though it’s only been gone a little while, you’ve missed it dearly. 

His next question has you stilling within his arms. “Will you…stay?”

“In your bed? With you?”

“No, with your other husband.” He chuckles, shifting you so you sprawl out onto his blankets beneath him, giggling as his nose nudges yours. 

“I have another husband?” you ask, just as his lips ever so softly coast over yours, breaking off at the first wiggle of his fingers along the span of your ribcage. Like this, you wriggle and writhe beneath him. Like this, you feel every inch of him along every inch of you. Hard lines against your softer ones. His hips against yours, his lips at your shoulder, your sides jolting with your laughter, limbs kicking out wildly to try and stop him. “Stop, stop—yes! But no pillow wall like in the Maldives.”

He leans down, and you reach up enough to kiss him. “No pillow wall. I might cuddle you, if that’s okay?”

“I'm kind of hoping you do,” you tease, rolling over onto your side as he reaches over and shuts the light, shrouding you both in impenetrable darkness.

Steve settles in beside you. Unlike in the Maldives, he doesn’t begin stacking an endless row of pillows to create a divider. No, this time he comes in close, his chest along your back. Arms looping tight around your waist, pulling you in as close as possible. Legs tangle together beneath bed sheets, fingers twine over where they rest along your midsection. 

It’s quiet for a time. And then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?” He lets you know he’s awake with a kiss at your shoulder. 

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, you whisper. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you, and I know that might not count for much, but I am so proud of you.” 

“No. No. That does mean a lot.”

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.”

There’s another pause. Then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I'm tired.” He practically moans it in your ear, face pressing into your neck. Your cheeks warm from the proximity. 

“Guess no kiss before bed then.” A pout lines your lips, though you know he cannot see it.

“Fine, fine, fine I’m up.”

“Nope, now I’m tired,” you sigh, nuzzling deeper into the endless pillows on your husband’s bed. 

“Get over here.” He grunts, shifting up onto his elbows. There’s barely a moment to argue, for his fingers curl around the base of your cheek and bring your face closer to his. 

His mouth is warm, welcoming, and lovely before bed, you decide, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Mmm,” you hum, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile as he flops back over onto his side and makes himself comfortable once more. 

“Goodnight,” he says, and you can feel his smile against the curve of your jaw.

“Goodnight.”

 ——

 With Thanksgiving about a week away, your husband becomes nearly nonexistent. He’s there, in your home, but only in the early mornings and late at night when you’re already about to fall asleep in his bed. 

His bed, because that’s where you've slept for the past however many days have passed since the first time. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you. Be it drawing comfort in one another, wanting the nearness of another human, or just purely wanting to be held—you don’t argue. 

In fact, you quite like waking up in his arms. Two people who fold themselves so tight around one another in their sleep. Bodies that seek comfort and warmth, crave it, and hold it close. 

But that’s truly the only time you’ve seen him as of late. Those fleeting moments when he kisses you while you’re still in bed in the morning, and then at night just as he’s about to shut the light out for the night. 

Which is why when you find him sitting in his office before work one morning, his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, you decide to take matters into your own hands to spend time with the man. Upon clearing your throat, his head tips up, eyes catching on the long tee shirt that covers your cotton shorts beneath. The hem line brushes the tops of your thighs with every step closer to him, hinting at skin that lingers beneath, coaxing him backward in his chair. His glasses are a flash of gold in the light as you clamber down onto his lap, resting your hands on his biceps, beaming down at him. 

“Hi,” you whisper, biting at your bottom lip. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumbing at the curve of your hips, pads of his fingers against delicate flesh. 

“Been working long?” 

“Few hours, yeah,” he grumbles, hooking his chin over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and press your forehead into his neck. The fingers on your hips slide up your back, trailing up and down gently, eliciting chills along your frame. “Sorry if I woke you.” 

His head shifts, mouth teasing at the curve of your throat, lips tilting upward into a smirk at the little sigh that spills out on his own volition from your lips. Curious hands trail down your back, sliding over the curve of your thigh, the hinge of your hip, the soft of your tummy. Another sigh fills the quiet room, and those fingers tease at the edge of your ribcage, the sides of your waist, the curve of your sports bra. 

“You’re being sneaky,” he says, breath hot against your ear, fingers spread over the dip of your waist. At your questioning hum, he chuckles, “Distracting me from work.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” you huff out, leaning back in his arms, fingers toying with the hem of his thin sweater he’d fallen asleep in. “I just wanted to spend some time with you before you went to work. Come on now, let me get some coffee for you before you go into the office, Mr. Harrington.”

His eyes roll at your teasing nickname, hand curling around your own as you rise from his lap and lead him out of the office. As you enter the kitchen, Charlie’s sleepy head raises from his paws, before he plops back down in a sleepy heap, legs and paws splayed out in front of him. 

Steve remains nearby as you get to work on making your coffees, slipping in and out of the living room just long enough to gather some of the things he’ll need for his work day. Yours iced, caramel drizzled on the inside of the cup in preparation, and Steve’s ‘Dog Dad’ mug laid out on the counter (a gift you’d gotten him as a joke, but he loved it so much he kept it and insisted on using it every morning).  

You catch him slipping on a button down shirt out of the corner of your eye, his necktie already hanging limply around his shoulders. Noting his struggle, you wander over to stand in front of him, grappling with the fabric, stilling him in his movements.

His forehead brushes yours, your voice quiet as you say, “You feeling okay? You’re feeling a little warm.” 

“Just tired,” he says, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Just a couple more days and then I’ll have some time off.” 

“Let me?” you ask, fingers winding in the tie. 

He dips his head, watching you with those dark eyes as you maneuver the fabric around, twining this way and that, before pulling it flush against his throat. His neck bobs as you linger there, holding him nearer to you, tugging teasingly. He leans down, breath skittering across your lips as he asks for your permission. 

In answering, you tug onto the tie and pull him down to you, your backside thumping against the kitchen counters as he crowds you against them, hands on your hips, gripping tight. Hot. Fervent and heated is his mouth as he claims your lips in the middle of your kitchen, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, tongue gliding across your bottom lip until you part for him with a pretty sigh. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips and teeth coasting down your cheek, along your neck, against your shoulder as you hop up onto the kitchen counter with his help, ankles curling around his waist to pull him flush against your center. “Baby…I have to…I should…”

But he’s gripping your thigh. Sliding it further open so he can press himself closer, fingers trailing along bare skin, eliciting shivers in their wake. Up and down, up and down, he trails them. Watches your face the whole time, catches the pinch of your bottom lip between your teeth, the whimper you let out as those fingers roam dangerously close to where you ache for him to touch. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. Breathes the words along the hollow of your ear. Presses a kiss below it a moment later as you nod, nearly bucking into his hand as his fingers toy with the hemline of your shorts, then along the cotton panties. “Honey, I need your words. Do you want me to touch you?” Another kiss, this time along the curve of your neck, tongue lathing sensitive skin. Heat burns low in your belly; throbs lower still, where you can already feel yourself embarrassingly wet for the man. “Want my fingers, sweetheart? Is that what you want?”

His eyes are molten as they meet yours. Liquified honey and caramel as you nod, his lips swallowing your moan at the first slide of his fingers through your slick center. “Steve…ah…work,” you pant, eyes halting on the clock staring at you across the way, and then dropping down to the forearm you’re presently clutching tight, watching the muscles there ripple as he circles your clit, testing your reactions, learning what you like. And he’s an expert, and you want to go back in time and erase every other partner who may have come before in a momentary burst of jealousy, before catching on his ringed finger where it lays against your other thigh, holding fast. 

“You're gonna be a good girl and come for me then so I’m not late?” he asks, groaning into your open mouth as you tug him closer by his necktie, hips rolling against his fingers as one slips in, before quickly being joined by another. “Fuck. Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me.”

It’s almost obscene, the sounds he draws out of you. The squelch of your slick where he pumps his fingers between your thighs, the harsh staccato of your breath as you inch closer and closer to your tipping point—like he’s been doing this for years. Like he’s known all along exactly what it takes to have you falling apart, crying out his name. And that’s exactly what you do, inner walls clenching down around his fingers as your thighs tremble low around his hips, his left hand curling around the back of your head to claim your mouth as you whimper into his skin, chanting his name like a mantra—like a prayer. 

“I hate you.” You don’t. Not when he looks at you the way he is looking at you now. Watching your chest rise and fall, eyes on yours, tongue swirling around his slick digits. “Fuck. So much.” 

“I’m sure you do,” he practically sing-songs, sliding your panties back into your place, followed by your shorts. Draws you closer to the edge of your kitchen counters, hands on the swell of your hips. He noses along your cheek, kissing you softly this time. “As much as I want to stay here, and I really really want to stay here, I have a very important meeting this morning.”

“Boo,” you whine, ear resting over his chest where you can hear his heart thrashing wildly behind his sternum.

“I’ll text you,” he promises, dropping a kiss on your lips as you lean your head back and look up at him through your lashes. “Send me pictures of Charlie?” 

“I will,” you laugh brightly, watching out of the corner of your eye as your fur child lifts his head at the mere mention of his name. “Although I’m pretty sure you already have about a million of them by now. Are you sure you have to go?”

He kisses your pout, chuckling softly. “Yes. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. You’re so beautiful.” 

A smile grows on your lips as his fingers run along your cheek, eyes on you, marveling. Never before have you felt so singularly the focus on a partner’s mind. The way Steve looks now…with reverence and appreciation that makes your heart soar…there’s nothing like it. You want to bottle it up, stow it away, keep it safe from the rest of the world. Keep it here, within the walls of your home, where it’s only you, him and Charlie. Your little makeshift family, but the one you both chose. 

So you allow him to help you down off the countertops and onto the floor below, your still-trembling thighs groaning beneath you as your cheeks burn hot. He drops a final kiss down onto the crown of your head and squeezes your shoulder tight, snatching his phone from where it’s resting behind you. Sliding it into his pocket, he calls Charlie’s name and hugs the excited puppy once before stepping into the elevator and reassuring you once more he’ll text you just as the doors slide shut. 

He makes it about two minutes before your phone pings. His text illuminates on the screen, the message liquifying your insides all over again.  

Husband: You coming like that on my fingers is going to be the only thing I’ll be able to think about for the rest of the day, I’ll have you know. 

Your stomach tumbles and swoops low in your belly as you type out your reply. 

You: Hurry back soon because I’m already thinking of how I’m planning on returning the favor. I know that’s all I’ll be thinking about until you get home. 

He types and stops. 

Types and stops again. 

A wicked grin curls your lips. 

And finally.

Husband: You’re cruel. 

You: See you later, handsome.

You: xoxo. 

——

please please as always let me know what you think! 🩷

[envysparkler]

early bird

Jason might’ve had a homefield advantage when it came to Crime Alley, but he was under no impression that the streets he remembered as a child were the same as they were today.  Hell, even the streets he’d patrolled as Robin wouldn’t be the same.  If he wanted to take over, he needed to get the lay of the land—where the gangs were, who was calling the shots, who was unhappy about it.

And where the Bats were.

The Red Hood was going to make his big debut after he knew who all the players were.  Right now, Jason was skulking around in all-black gear, armor on, armed with blades instead of guns.  He didn’t plan on killing anyone.  Not yet.

But Jason felt uneasy almost instantly.

The whole city seemed to be holding its breath, the way it did after a major Rogue attack.  Jason had kept up with news of Gotham’s freakshow gallery, and there had been nothing for months.  Plenty of crime, but the big name players were lying low.  There should be no reason for people to act like they’d just gone through a fear toxin outbreak.

Jason was feeling very uneasy indeed.

The first inkling he had that something was off was the goons on the street.  While the gangs in Crime Alley changed territory like a penny changed hands, Jason had gotten used to seeing a few familiar faces.  Now, there were no familiar faces, only full-face masks and a lingering sense of malaise.

The second clue that something was wrong was the aftermath of destruction.  Gotham was a shit place for infrastructure at the best of times, but usually there wasn’t rubble lying on the streets, cordoned off by tattered tape, or gutted-out hollows of burnt buildings.  It looked like a full-scale war had erupted on the island.

And the last thing Jason needed to finish the creeping sense of something’s not right was the glimpse he’d gotten of Batman on patrol.  The Dark Knight swung through the air like a wraith and where Jason looked immediately for red-green-yellow—Replacement, target, how dare he take what’s mine—he found nothing.

No brightly colored shadow.

No joyful laugh.

Nothing but darkness.

Something was very, very wrong.

~#~

It took Jason a couple of days to figure out what had happened.  No one wanted to talk to him, not the semi-stranger nor the cloaked figure all in black.  Jason finally had to bare his face and find one of the working girls he’d known as a kid.  She’d been happy to fill him in, though she’d used a hushed voice the entire time.

A gang war in Gotham.  Boundary lines drawn all over the place.  Some loser calling himself the Black Mask and the False Face Society taking control in an awful five-day wave of violence and brutality.  And then…well, then the story got a little confusing.

No one had seen Robin since the incident.  Batman had apparently gone feral.  Black Mask was in prison with several broken bones.  Nightwing had showed up, permanently if the outrage from Bludhaven was anything to go by.  Word on the street was that Robin was dead.

Jason didn’t know whether to be pleased or not—the pretender was gone, but Jason was supposed to be the one to do it—when his train of thought was abruptly derailed.

“It’s just like last time,” rasped a girl with a too-old-for-her-face stare.  “Robin croaks it, Batman goes cuckoo.”

“What,” Jason said.

“The Bat was scary last time,” another girl shivered, hands rubbing her arms.  “You know he put Johnny in the hospital for trying to take some bread?”

“Hope he picks up another Robin soon,” muttered a girl with a resigned expression.

“No, Stella, you know they’re children, right?  How could you even say that—”

“Look, either we give the guy in a bat suit his emotional support child endangerment, or Batman’s going to become just as bad as his villains.  Who’s going to watch this city if everyone’s a freak?”

Jason slipped away from the group as the girls all began bickering, arguing over whether or not Batman needed a Robin, if Robin was even human in the first place, if they should just pack up and leave.  He didn’t want to listen to a fiercely indignant woman call Batman a child abuser while a darkly resigned one just shrugged her shoulders.

For some reason, when he’d made his own arguments, he’d felt…unique.  Special.  Like he was the only one who could see the truth.  Now—now he was remembering Gordon’s pinched face every time he saw Jason with an injury, all the news reporters that called Batman the worst thing that had happened to Gotham, the comments from Leaguers uncomfortable with child heroes.

Jason wasn’t entirely sure when he’d switched sides in the debate.

~#~

It took another week before Jason spotted Batman again.  His patrols were all over the place, no discernable pattern to them, but when he heard rumors of a planned bank robbery in the Diamond District, Jason knew where to go.

He arrived and found a nook on the rooftop across the street to watch the action.  Sure enough, Batman and Nightwing showed up moments after the alarm was tripped, and Jason watched them take down the would-be robbers.

Batman didn’t look crazy, his movements were as swift and economical as ever as he dismantled the operation, engaged the leader, and began punching him in the face again and again and again.  Jason stared, frozen to the spot with more than shock as he watched Batman pulverize a group of robbers for the crime of breaking into an empty store.

Nightwing secured his opponents and moved to intercede, trying to get between Batman and his victim.  Batman ignored him, and when Nightwing laid a hand on his arm to get him to stop, he flung the other vigilante back so hard Nightwing nearly stumbled into the street.

Nightwing didn’t move to intercept again.

Batman stopped when the man was no longer twitching, and dropped the body where it was, turning on his heel sharply to exit the scene.  Nightwing watched him go, and Jason could see the way the younger man crumpled in on himself as Batman walked away.  Hand over his face, Nightwing slowly went after him, every line of his body screaming of exhaustion.

Robin croaks it.

Jason’s breathing had gone tight and shallow.

Batman goes cuckoo.

In the back of his head, something was laughing.  Isn’t it a great joke, it said between giggles.  Isn’t it the greatest joke of all?

[isa-ghost]

you have eggza headcanons perhaps? 👉👈

I will take any headcanons of course, I love your headcanon posts

Previous Sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

MORE: Eggza Edition

Starting with two I made in previous sets:

When left to his own devices & off-duty as dad + not needed by any of the islanders for something serious, he let's loose. No more wise bad bitch crow man who's palpably emotionally damaged yet won't admit it. He's off the shits. You've seen Eggza. That's him de-stressing by fully indulging his favorite things: preparing necessities for survival & being an absolute wildcard.

When he heard someone on the island made up a rumor that Eggza is legit because Phil taste-tested a cookie out of curiosity, he took that and RAN. Yeah. He's egg sometimes. Who's his parent you ask? Well that's a secret (it's Rose).

Remember how I said he commits to bits super hard? Yeah. Eggza is his second biggest bit after the 4th Wall existentialism but it's quickly surpassing it to his biggest one

Genuinely he enjoys his Eggza time. Everyone knows they'll get nothing but task help out of him more or less, so they more or less leave him alone unless it's to say hi or a chance encounter.

Everyone finds him speaking with signs funny and endearing. Except Tubbo. But that's understandable, dyslexia go brr. Even though the fool sometimes forgets he can tts the signs. It's fine, he's most likely to derail Eggza's cookie grinding so it's better if Tubbo stays away doing Tubbo things

He's torn between the kids witnessing Eggza & never witnessing Eggza. He can't tell what's funnier or if he'd be embarrassed. They've heard stories from other eggs though

He has no interest in making himself Look like an egg. The sign usage is all he needs. And its funnier when you approach your grown ass man best friend Philza Minecraft only for him to look as wild as he did during Purgatory but without the Looks Like He's Dying Slowly part & refuse to talk to you verbally. The "what the fuck is happening here" is the best part of Eggza, if he starts LOOKING like an egg everyone will understand what's going on and that's lame

He bounces off everyone's energy. The more unhinged they are, the more unhinged he is. Unless he's harassing the baker. Then he fuels his own fuckery

The funny thing is he makes sure everyone thinks he's constantly this wild gremlin that only knows one thing: Grind. But really if no one's around while he's grinding, he's actually just straight up vibing. Got headphones in, blasting his jams, doin his work. In his lane, unbothered, flourishing.

I would sell my soul to see Eggza beat the ever-loving shit out of Purgatory workers it'd be so fucking funny holy shit

One of his favorite parts of going Eggza Mode is amusing his friends with the way he's just a nonverbal weirdo. Especially when he answers something they say by just dancing

If He's An Extra Silly Gremlin They'll Give Him Avocado Toast As A Treat

No one knows where he shoos his crows off to when he's Eggza. Or if it's some unspoken "ok time to scatter" rule as soon as he puts the gas mask on by the bakery. But they disperse and for a while, the other islanders can't shake the feeling of Phil seeming strangely bare for some reason. It's bc the murder is away

Tbh I bet even without the Hardcore dreams, he'd sleep a long time with how hard he works as Eggza

"Hard work," I say, as if most of the time Phil isn't just making mobs insatiable amounts of horny so everyone can give the baker what they're asking for (the awareness of this is half of why he's so unhinged as Eggza, it's too absurd & funny to him)

Calling back to another prev non-Eggza hc I made, he has less of a filter when he's not parenting or in peril. He has said some absolutely wild out of pocket shit on signs

If given the right kind of motivation, an islander could probably get Eggza to go feral and kill something or someone. Fit tosses him a stack of whatever arbitrary item Phil might find enticing enough atm & Phil is suddenly on a spree like he was with those bunnies that one time

[pimosworld]

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌒Chapter Summary- You and the boys celebrate your new job. Marc’s past trauma threatens to derail what the other so desperately want with you. Khonshu makes his presence known in only ways he knows how.

🌔CW-18+,MDNI,NDFW, friends to lovers, Angst,Fluff,Insecurities,flashback sequence, POV switch, inaccurate depiction of DID,kissing,lots of flirting.

🌑WK-4.2k

A/N-I hope you like our first installment. I don’t know why I love writing Marc so angsty but I promise he will come around. Steven takes the lead in this because I’m a sucker for him and Jake is his ever charming self.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Chapter 1

  ”I am the one who guides the great ones who are lost and exhausted on the roads of the reborn…

Who guides those who are lost in the underworld,

I am Hathor, Queen of the northern sky,

Who watches over the reborn,

I am a haven of tranquility for the just,

A ferry for the chosen.”

You never imagined you’d find yourself running through the halls of the British museum. You couldn’t contain your excitement of finally being told you got the job. You knew Steven would be leading a tour but he insisted you find him when you got the results. Good or bad. 

  The curator that was retiring was highly impressed with your knowledge. You thought the job offer would be to assist. You were ecstatic when she told you she wanted you to take over the catalogue of all the new exhibits in the museum. 

  It always came natural to you, the research and the fascination of every ancient civilization. Egypt in particular held your interest. There was a connection you couldn’t describe when you thought about it. Having met Steven and bonding over your shared obsession made you feel a little less awkward. 

  You always felt a little more like yourself around them. 

  Steven could invariably sense it before he even laid his eyes on you. It always started the same - a subtle yet undeniable sensation. A cascade of warmth starting from the top of his head emanating through his body. It was indescribable the reaction you elicited from each one of them, all varying in forms. 

  He’s meandering through the new Hatshepsut exhibit on a break in between tours when you find him. All bright and blazing smiles, hardly able to contain your excitement. He already knows what you’re going to tell him. You didn’t need his help but Jake would’ve called him all sorts of Spanish curses if he had turned down your request to help prepare for the interview at the museum all those weeks ago. 

  Some might call his love for ancient Egypt neurose but that’s what led you to him. It’s very likely you would be another stranger to him if his obsession hadn’t caused him to start his incessant babbling that fateful day in the coffee shop. 

  A beautiful creature like you, arguably the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Sitting in the shop he regularly frequented, seated in the corner to catch the only ray of light. Illuminating in your hands a special edition novel on some obscure topic. You quietly giggling to yourself as you read. 

  Jake stayed uncharacteristically quiet while Steven rambled to you about all the secret facts that were never printed. This was his forte and who was Jake to overtake this conversation that you seemed to enjoy. You took to him like you were long lost friends. 

  You took to all of them (well most of them) with such great ease…but one thing at a time. Let’s start with Steven. 

  Your sweet Steven, his posture slightly slouched. Hair a little disheveled and clothes not very firm fitting. But right now he’s standing tall, deft hands in his pockets and his hair with a bit of product. He always took care of his appearance as a tour guide. He stood a little straighter, spoke a little firmer…more assured. 

  He’s looking at you like that now as you approach him. A slight smirk on his face because he knows but he wouldn’t dare ruin your moment. 

  It’s hard to describe the feelings you have when you’re around them. It’s much easier to express how you feel when you’re not with them. Incomplete, fragmented,dimmed. 

  It’s like the opposite of a heartbreak when you see him. 

  “I have some great news.” You’re bouncing on your feet as you half whisper, trying not to draw attention from the other people in the exhibit. 

  She’s adorable 

  Jake is ever present when you are around and Marc as well but he mostly stays silent. 

  “I got the job.” You clap your hands over your mouth to suppress the squeal that you want to let out. 

  It feels wrong not to hug you at this moment. He’s not sure how you’d feel about it now that you’re coworkers but the way you step closer, he can’t resist as he pulls you into his arms. 

  You melt as he mumbles praises into your hair. He’s overwhelmed by the smell of citrus and vanilla as he realizes this is the closest your bodies have ever been. A different kind of warmth spreads over him now as he breaks away from you before ruining this moment with an awkward explanation about the male anatomy.

  “I’m so proud of you.” He says while he still holds your hands in his, a safe distance from you now. 

  “I couldn’t have done it without you Steven.” 

  He nervously adjusts the collar of his shirt as the redness creeps up his neck at the compliment. 

  “Nonsense love, you’re a natural.” 

  It was a regular term of endearment from him but it always made you all giddy inside. You never read too much into each of their special names for you. The countless times Jake called you hermosa or when Marc let the occasional sweetheart slip from his lips. 

  You nervously fidget with the hem of your blouse as the conversation lulls for a moment. “Well I should let you get back to work.” You reach up and give him a kiss on his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it as you hear a sharp intake of breath. 

  He watches you briefly as you walk away, he’s stuck in a trance trying to process what just happened. 

  “We should celebrate!” He didn’t really mean to shout it at you. The way all eyes turn to him including you has him wanting to crawl into the nearest sarcophagus. 

  You smile at him as you exit the exhibit and the light in the room dims a little as he patiently waits for the responses from his head mates about how bonkers he is. 

  His phone buzzes lightly in his pocket and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name appear on the screen. 

  You:My place or yours 

  Mine-S

  Steven can feel Jake and Marc at the forefront,along with a mixture of emotions.

  Worried,jealous,excited,anxious. They may be unique in their own way, but they share a brain and a body. Steven wasn’t usually the vanguard in these situations but something about you makes him feel confident. A way he’s never felt before, and he’s never been more sure than he’s been about you. 

  ****

  No one drinks your tea hermano.

  Steven huffs as he opens the door to the small coffee shop on the corner. “Whatever you say mate. I know I didn’t drink the last of it.” He doesn’t normally get this miffed but he’s been a lot more stressed at work lately with all the new responsibilities. 

  You wanted those responsibilities.

  Buzz off Jake.

  A poor old woman turns to him wide eyed. Steven quietly apologizes to her as he tucks his cold hands in his jumper. He just wanted to get some hot tea and be on about his day. Unsure of what he would even do…most likely research for the tours. It sure beats being yelled at by Donna who thinks she’s still Stevens boss. 

  The barista offers him a polite smile as he steps up to the counter. “I’d like the rooibos chai tea please.” He slides her some bills before she can tell him the total and quickly steps aside. 

  It’s warm and his hands are clammy. He rolls up the sleeves of his jumper as he idles by the window, somehow in everyone’s way and not in the way at all. He doesn’t remember it being a particularly sunny day when he left the flat but it seems the shop is ten shades brighter. 

  He glances around nervously as he hears some soft laughter just to his left. A book. A girl. In the corner. 

  Talking to strangers about Egypt at work was one thing. For starters he got paid to do it and he truly loved it. It’s an entirely different thing to do in public, some might say peculiar to strike up a conversation unprovoked. It’s no matter anyway as his feet carry him to your warm nook in the shop. 

  “That copy must have cost you a small fortune.” He says as he slides into the seat next to you. 

  You laugh as you dip your head. “Would you believe me if I told you I found it at a thrift store.” You turn it over in your hand as you brush your fingers down the spine. “Obviously I had to snatch it up before they realized what they had.” 

  He knows he’s the one who approached you but now he can’t actually believe you’re talking to him. Without even missing a beat. You haven’t returned your attention back to the book as you stare at him like you're studying his movements. Your eyes sparkle as you lift your coffee to your lips and blow before taking a sip. 

  “So what chapter had you particularly giggly over here.” He teases as you hold the book against your chest. 

  You lean in and he forces himself not to look at your slightly open blouse.“I’m afraid the god of Min is not one to be discussed out loud.” Your breath ghosts over him as you whisper in his ear. He can feel the heat flush over his body from your close proximity. 

  You slide the book towards him and tap your finger on the page. He tries to focus on reading it but he notices you haven’t pulled away. 

  Min was often depicted as a mummiform human man with an ithyphallic (uncovered erect) penis. Wearing a crown adorned with two feathers. In his left hand he holds his penis ( although this is usually only apparent in statues because of the perspective applied to two dimensional images in Egyptian art) in his right hand he holds a flail up above his shoulder representing power and fertility. 

  You lightly tap him on his shoulder and he looks up to see you gesturing to the young barista excitedly waving him over. She’s a bit squirrelly when he approaches to retrieve his coffee and he thinks perhaps she’s consuming too much of the shop's supply. 

  What are you doing hermano?

  I haven’t the slightest idea mate.

  Well keep it up, it seems to be working.

  He doesn’t want to intrude but he sees you smiling brightly at him as he returns to the table. You’re still on the same page not having resumed your reading. 

  Steven sits and sips his tea, he hums in approval and he’s grateful it sat briefly because at the moment he’s plenty warm. 

  “Is that the chai?” You ask inquisitively as you flip back a few pages with a puzzled look on your face. 

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorites. In fact I don’t make it at home. It’s just—.”

  “It never tastes the same.”  You steal the words right from his mouth as he glances down to your coffee in question. “Sometimes I enjoy the occasional cup of coffee. It reminds me of home” You say with a sheepish expression. 

  “Where’s home?” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

  “I don’t mind at all. Washington.” His eyes go wide and you smirk into your coffee. “I know I’m a long way from home.” You say it with a far away look in your eyes and he silently curses himself for being too forward. 

  You flip frantically back and forth through the pages as you scrunch your nose in frustration. 

  She’s cute 

  Ya he’s aware and he’s thoroughly wrecked at any future attempts to match this turn of events for a day off from the museum. 

  “Looking for anything in particular?” He leans in a little closer as he scrubs his sweaty palms on his pants. 

  “Yes…it’s just.” You cease your movements and lean back against the soft cushion. “I know these books leave out so much information. They claim to be special editions but I know there’s more to it than this.” You point at the page like it’s personally offended you. 

  “Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” You raise your eyebrow at him and it’s quiet for a moment. 

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” 

  “Ask what love?” It slips out but you don’t falter or grimace at his words. 

  “Ask me why I’m so far from home.” You look at each other then, it’s just a millisecond of a flash in your eyes. The iris is bright yellow and then gone. His heart quivers a bit and he thinks he may be having a mild heart attack. 

  Calmáte

  He takes a shuddering breath and shucks off his coat. “S’ not really my business I guess.” 

  You’re so focused on him. Like you’re learning every tick and line etched into his features. The way you stare at him like he’s a statue to be studied. It’s maddening and a little unnerving but he doesn’t want you to look away. 

  “Can you tell me why all of the statues of Min are depicted vastly different from all these photographs?” You slide the book toward him but he closes it as a smug smile adorns his face.

  “Well the European scholars of the Victorian age were a bit more…conservative.” He adjusted his pants unconsciously before continuing. “They had most of the phallic members on the statues removed when they were discovered. It nearly wiped out all known history of Min…but you can’t erase the mind.” You chuckle as he taps his finger against his temple playfully. 

  You sigh sympathetically and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you. “Poor Min.” 

  Steven lets out a raucous laughter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The old woman from before seated at a table nearby shushes you both and Stevens face turns deep red. 

  You duck your head close to his. “It’s not like we’re in a library.” 

  Ya he’s a goner 

  “Another fun fact, that’s likely not in your book.” He drops his voice a little to not disturb anyone else. His excitement is threatening to boil over at your willingness to listen. “It’s rumored that Min was in charge of overseeing the women while the king and his men were at war. When the men returned from battle all of the women were pregnant.” You cover your mouth in shock. “It gets worse.” 

  Your leg brushes his as you adjust to face him better and he nearly chokes at the brief contact. “The king had his arm and leg chopped off in retaliation.” 

  “Why not his.” You gesture downward but his eyes stay fixed to your face. 

  “Well…funny you ask. The king told the men to remove his er…you know. The men thought it was too magnificent so they made him a god. That’s the rumor at least.” 

  MIN WAS A FOOL

  Steven stiffens at the bird's sudden presence as he’s perched in the corner. Unsure as to why he’s here. Marc made it clear to leave Steven alone when it comes to moon knight duties 

  You’re staring at him with a mesmerized look in your eyes. “How do you know so much?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve always had a knack for researching and always found Egyptian mythology fascinating. I used to run the gift shop at the British Museum, but now I’m a tour guide.” 

  You shriek in surprise and the old woman abruptly stands with her newspaper, muttering under her breath as she exits the coffee shop. “I’m interviewing for a job there next month. How serendipitous.” You say the last part half whispered. 

  “Wow, that is quite the coincidence. What’s the job? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

  “The curator position has an opening. It’s always been my dream to work there.” Steven glances up nervously at Khonshu who still hasn’t left. 

  DON'T MESS THIS UP WORM

  “I could ugh…help you prepare. If you’d like? I’m sure you know your stuff but if I—.” 

  “I would love that so much. Thank you.” You say enthusiastically as you clap your hands together. 

  You reach into your purse to pull out your phone. “I’m here most mornings around this time.” You hand it to him sounding a little apprehensive. “But I should have your number just in case.” 

  “Of course love.” He punches in the digits trying to calm his shaking hands. He hands it back to you as you look it over. 

  “Nice to meet you Steven.” You slide it back into your purse along with your book. “I should be going.” You wave at him as you slide out and head towards the door with one last glance over your shoulder at him. 

  He exhales as he drops his head back, the cafes a little colder and his heart rate slows to a normal pattern. 

  ****

  Steven frantically stacks his books against the wall after he’s checked on the vegan pot pie in the oven. He’d managed with Marc’s help to attempt a new recipe without burning down the flat. 

  She’s been here before Steven just relax 

  “I just want it to look nice. She’s not just coming over to study.” Despite Marc’s insistence he calms down, he can sense his nervousness. 

  Jake feels it too. 

  You’ve been over countless times, laid out on the floor amongst the books that adorned their home. You and Steven rambling for hours about the ancient texts or the hidden tombs. Swapping ridiculous facts that the other hadn’t heard. Jake often had to remind you both to eat or drink something. 

  Marc would front occasionally…mostly to remind Steven that the body had other duties to attend to. There was always an awkward avoidance on the days after you’d see Marc. 

  But tonight feels different. You were coming over to spend time with them, not just pick Stevens brain for loads of useful knowledge. The way you touched him today and the look in your eyes told an entirely different story than your budding friendship. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself before you arrive so he tries to keep his hands busy. 

  Jake has to give it to him, the flat has never been this clean in its entirety. He notices some newer candles have been lit but decides to keep it to himself. 

  Just remember she likes us and take deep breaths

  “Thanks mate, I sure hope I know what I’m doing.” 

  ****

  “Steven, you've outdone yourself.” You slide the empty plate forward and take a sip of your wine. 

  It never gets old, hearing your praises. You were always so grateful and appreciative of anything they would do for you. 

  “Marc helped as well.” His eyes meet Marc’s in the reflection of the mirror. 

  You brush your hand over his tracing the veins along his arm. “Well tell him I said thank you.”

  Marc wasn’t avoiding you per say. He just thought it was important for Steven and Jake to experience what he once had. Something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to mess it up again. 

  The conversation moves comfortably to the couch, where your feet are curled up beneath you as you animatedly tell Steven about the wonderful interview. Some old sci fi movie on in the background that he can’t bother to pay attention to when he could simply watch you. 

  You finally take a breath and realize how close you are. Knees touching as you adjust against the worn leather. He looks at you as if he wants you to continue. You thought he’d be sick of talking about this stuff by now but he looks as though he’d let you go on for hours. You can’t ignore the feeling from earlier and you hope deep down that what you’re about to do doesn’t ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

  If it does, you suppose it’ll make your work relationship less complicated. You aren’t even sure what the policy is on dating. You’re definitely getting ahead of yourself. 

  “Love is everything alright?” He asks as he places his warm hand gently on your thigh. 

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought.” You chuckle softly as you look at the fish tank. Gus swimming in the front staring at you. 

  “Did you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” His hand traces soothing circles on your thigh and he feels you shudder. He moves to withdraw but you grab his hand,lacing your fingers with his. 

  He slowly raises your arm, kissing the back of your hand as his lips linger there for a moment. ‘Go on’

  “I just…wanted to thank you properly. But we were in the museum.” Your voice is suddenly so timid. 

  “We’re not in the museum now.” His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as he waits. 

  It feels like all eyes are on you, and not just Stevens. He’s waiting for you to cross that bridge, giving you the opportunity to say that this can stay exactly what it is and he would be content. 

  You inch closer to him as you rise up on your knees, the couch creaks as you face him, placing your free hand on his shoulder. He closes his eyes as you roam over his chest, mapping it with your fingers. His dark lashes flutter against his cheeks as you lean in and press your lips to his. 

  Warmth blooms across his chest at the first feel of your touch. It’s so gentle and experimental as you both share breaths. He releases your hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest. 

  “You’re welcome.” He murmurs against your lips as you chuckle in between opened mouth kisses. 

  You can still taste the wine on his tongue as he methodically takes the lead. Much more assured of himself than you’ve ever seen. 

  You yelp in surprise as he swings your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap. You lean back with your hands braced on his chest as it rises and falls beneath you. His hands flex at his side as his eyes roll. 

  “Mírate, eres tan hermosa.” His pupils are black as he bites his bottom lip. 

  “Hi.” You say breathlessly as his hands find their way to your hips. He pulls you in as your noses touch, waiting for permission as you nod. 

  He’s consuming and precise in his movements. His lips crash into yours as you instinctively grind your hips down. He groans into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so different from Steven and yet so exhilarating knowing it’s the same body. 

  I wasn’t quite finished yet

  Jake chuckles as he trails kisses along your jaw. “I wasn’t sure if he was going to share.”  He tilts your head to the side as he bites and nips at your chin. “To be continued.” 

  His hands flex again and he relaxes beneath you. A blush creeps up Stevens neck at the position you’re in. You adjust yourself and brush against his hardened bulge in his pants. A soft whimper leaves his mouth as you experimentally roll your hips again. He’s slack jawed as he watches you with hooded eyes. You’re beautiful just like this. 

  Your nerves start to get the better of you and he notices your trembling. He gently unwraps your arms from his neck as he places a kiss on each palm. 

  “We don’t have to go any further love.” He breathes in the scent of your perfume, heavy on your wrist. “I like this. What we’re doing now.” 

  You place your hand on his rapidly beating heart, quite the juxtaposition to his outwardly calm demeanor. You’re so content to stay like this…so you do until your eyes fall heavy. Lips chapped from kissing as the candles go out on their own. Curled up under the broadness of their body as they wrap you up into them. You push the thoughts away before sleep claims you of not having seen Marc, you want to thank him…in time. 

  ****

  The golden sun bathes you in a warm embrace as you rustle amongst the robust reeds. Your fingers trace along the silky fabric of your dress as the breeze brings scents of jasmine to awaken you softly. 

  The crunching of grass with each deliberate step, a gentle symphony beneath the weight of someone weaving through the emerald blades. As they move it casts a shadow along your tranquil resting spot. 

  You hear a faint laugh as you open your eyes. A tall majestic man stands before you, adorned in blue and gold. His dark locks sit beneath a nemes crown. He crouches down beside you as he lays his crescent staff amongst the grass and pulls you close. He rests his head atop yours as he hums quietly to himself.

  “I knew I’d find you here.” 

  ****

  You stretch your sore limbs, having fallen asleep in such an awkward position. Fragments of a dream linger in your mind briefly. Your eyes adjust to the light in the flat and you’re acutely aware of the lack of warmth against your back. 

  There’s a soft quilt draped over your form and you pull it close as you sit up on the brown leather couch. It’s silent in the flat, the only sound over the quiet hum of Gus’s tank is the sound of your beating heart as you brush the tears away with the blanket you’re holding tightly to your chest. 

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[ddejavvu]

I just keep thinking about baby daddy!steve. he got you pregnant accidentally and y’all aren’t technically together but you kind of are

You open the door with a hand on your slightly swollen belly, and Steve doesn't miss it. He redirects his gaze back up to your eyes, and his own shine with measured excitement.

"Hi," He grins.

"Hi," You stand protectively in front of the door, eyeing the bag in his hand, "What's that?"

"Groceries," He holds the bag out for you to see, and there's tapes stacked on top of a cantaloupe, "And movies. I thought you might be tired of Sixteen Candles."

"Never," You try to tease, but he notices the way your hand reaches for the bag in his own.

"I can carry it," He tugs it back into his chest, "It's heavy."

"I can handle it," You promise, arms still outstretched, "Just give it to me, Steve."

His brow furrows, "It's fine, Y/N, I can do it."

"Steve, just-"

"No, I've got it."

"Give it to me!" You huff, and he freezes.

"Why can't I come in?" He asks, and you see a flicker of anxiety flare up in his eyes. His mind is spinning, calculating a thousand reasons why you don't want him in, the first of which happens to be another man.

"'Cause there's- nothing, Steve, no reason, I just- I just want to be independent. You know? Do stuff for myself."

"Y/N, I can do it! I want to do it," He huffs, "Because of me you're about to push 8 pounds out of your.." He hesitates, flushing red as if his dick hadn't been inside of them, "Y'know, nether regions."

"Nether regions? Steve, give me the bag." You tug at the paper, but he steps away.

"No! Come on, just- please, now I have to know."

Shame floods your body, seeping into the crevices of your brain and the dips between your toes. You take a single, deep breath, then step aside to let Steve in, stalking towards the kitchen in hopes that he'll do the same and ignore the glaringly obvious disaster in the living room.

Of course, he doesn't.

"Babe," He pauses, setting the bag on the couch and propping his hands up on his hips, "I said I'd assemble the crib next week."

Splayed out over your carpet is a very much deconstructed crib, wooden pieces strewn about and screws littering the floor. You're surprised you haven't stepped on one yet, and you see Steve nudge one out of a pocket of plush with the toe of his shoe.

"I wanted to do it myself," You attempt weakly, "I just.. I don't know, Steve. You have your own life. I don't want to derail it because I wasn't on the pill."

He gulps, you can see his throat dip as he stares at you, saddened.

"I didn't mean to derail yours because I didn't have a condom," He murmurs, his soft voice a perfect compliment to the dim lighting in the room, "But here we are. And- and listen, the last thing I'm gonna do is step away. That's not.. what parents do."

You try not to think of his house, giant and empty. His parents' room, that hasn't been slept in for god knows how long, and his, an island in the middle of the dead sea.

You decide right then and there, that independence isn't worth taking away his closure. He needs to be the father he never had, and you won't stop him just so you can feel impossibly strong.

You clear your throat, intent on changing the subject without having to tell him why. Your eyes flit to the movies in the bag, and catch the first title, "Top Gun?"

"I heard some girl in the store talking about a beach volleyball scene," He flushes impossibly redder, "I dunno, it seemed like something you'd enjoy."

"I hope it's not too distracting." The toe of your shoe brushes against the ground, scuffing the carpet and bending the fluff the opposite way, "Because we should try to finish the crib before tonight. I, uh, don't wanna trip over it in the dark."

The smile that blooms over his face has the potential to flood the dim room with blinding light, and for the first time since you'd held the pregnancy test in your hand, you're confident that you'll not only survive, but that you'll enjoy yourself along the way.

[thee-horny-thicky]

So, a night of drinking and my secret obsession with Bunny Izuku combined, to birth what will eventually be the first chapter of a much longer fic. For now, enjoy this snippet :)

Thanks for the encouragement @myprettydarlings 💗

Update: The completed first chapter is now out on Ao3 :)

Bunnies and Vices

You weren’t the best at self-regulation. When you did something, you either did the bare minimum or went all out, with no in-between. A lazy overachiever if you will. Unfortunately, this little quirk applied to your vices, too. You either paid them no mind or indulged in them until you were a wreck.

Most of your vices were safe. Fanfiction, snacking, sleeping in, etc., allowing you to safely humor them.  The one harmful vice, however, was your love for parties and alcohol. You were a sucker for a good time, and if free liquor was provided, you were there. The strong, fruity drinks were especially mouthwatering, as they had the winning combo of getting you fucked-up fast while tasting like heaven.

In the heat of the moment, guzzling alcohol with your friends was a ball. You danced like no one was watching, chatted with anyone who’d give you the time of day, and flirted with fine strangers with zero reservations. The stresses of day-to-day life and your self-image issues melted away, being too caught up in the moment to give a damn about them.

However, once the moment passed, all the alcohol you chugged seemed like a poor decision. Nausea and headaches began to set in, the alcoholic munchies you got leaving you bloated. The next morning, you’d be left with a raging hangover and intense regret over every little embarrassing moment you laughed at when liquor was flowing through your veins.

At 3 in the morning, your most dangerous vice had you staggering home, because your dumbass didn’t want to burden your friends when they offered to walk with you. You lived in the opposite direction, after all, and they were in no state to wander around town in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, you didn’t take your advice.

A yelp left you when a loud, high-pitched shriek sounded in the alley ahead of you. Your body tensed as the cries grew in urgency, your steps halting. You looked around and found the streets deserted, the lack of another soul making your heart rate pick up.

Going through the alley was necessary if you wanted to get home soon, but you didn’t know what horrors awaited you. You’d heard stories before of crooks setting up traps for potential victims. You were a drunk woman by her lonesome, making you a perfect target. Your skintight attire didn’t help matters.

You could go the alternative route, but that would add twenty minutes to your walk, and you wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Stealing your nerves, you bent down and removed your high heels. They’d be a hindrance if you had to run, and the platforms would serve as a decent weapon. Taking a shaky step forward, you entered the alleyway, praying to whatever deity up above to spare you. You tried your best to stay quiet, not wanting to catch the attention of whatever was in the alley. But a bundle of fur derailed that plan.

Two things quickly caught your attention. One, the source of that godawful screech was an injured rabbit. And more concerningly, it was green.

You blinked. Then blinked again, and when the creature remained green, you rubbed your eyes. A laugh bubbled out of you, your sense of survival being replaced by bewilderment. Just how much had you drunk?

“Hey, hey,” you cooed as the poor thing tried to inch backward, another cry leaving it.

Blood was oozing from its back paw, and a broken glass bottle laying feet away quickly revealed what’d caused the injury. Yet, it didn’t explain the uneven patches of fur, or the scars marring the exposed skin that the fur didn’t cover up. Your heart sank. While its coloring may be the result of too many margaritas, the scarring was a clear sign of mistreatment.

You slowly approached, dropping your heels as you tried to make yourself appear smaller. You’d probably have to walk home barefoot but considering those cheap demons had made your feet hurt all night, it was a small price to pay. A trip to your local thrift store would see them replaced.

“It’s okay,” you whispered when it let out a hiss. Briefly, you wondered if it had rabies. If it did, a rabies shot would take care of that, and you’d learn a valuable lesson. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Besides, if it did infect you with some disease, you’d have a fun story to tell, and one more of many examples of poor decisions your brain made when drunk. Because while sober you might’ve exercised caution, drunk you was removing your jacket and wrapping it around the rabbit’s body. It resisted, at first. But once you began to scratch behind its ears, it calmed down.

Your finger grazed across another scar, and you frowned. “You poor baby.”

Your grandmother would be having fits if she saw the scene before her. Luckily for you, she was dead, so you didn’t have to explain anything to her. She might be rolling over in her grave, though, as she looked up at you. The old woman was an unwavering animal hater, which made sense because she was a miserable hog. Hogs were aggressive creatures, after all, who didn’t like others infringing on their territory.  

Gently, you wrapped the sleeve of your jacket around the injured foot to staunch the bleeding. Somehow, you simultaneously managed to pull your phone out of your stupidly small purse. You adored Y2K styles, but you wished that the bags were bigger.

You began to walk back to your place with your head buried in your phone, keeping a tight grip on the rabbit who’d begun to relax in your hold. A quick search showed that all 24-hour vets were ridiculously far away, but another showed that you had most of the material needed to take care of the animal’s injuries. Tucking your phone away, you decided to handle it yourself and make a trip to the vet first thing tomorrow. Stupid as it may be to take a random animal home with you after a night of drinking, you couldn’t leave a poor creature to suffer. Besides, the vet would most likely have the resources to rehome it.

A/N: I love my (living) grandmother very much, and the words written here do not reflect my views on her.

[twistedchatterbox]

Dates and Love

summary: what types of dates do they take you on? ft.Octavinelle (seperately) tags. GN Reader, Fluff, No Spoilers, yes I am biased as fuck mind your business, loveels, domestic Azul, Floyd is a devoted lover, Jade is sentimental and very lovestruck, the fish are all so lovesick oh my god, no beta we overblot like men.

Wordcount; 600+ | Masterlist & Taglist 

Floyd takes you around the places you two always walk around, yet every time you see something you hadn’t noticed since last time, he’s scarily observant which most people tend to overlook. Most people are disappointingly simple in how they regard him though, which isn’t surprising to you at this point; what is surprising is the way that Floyd tends to make things so interesting. Hoisting you on his shoulders and giving you a piggyback ride to cheer you up on your daily jog between campus sights and derailing off course to discover something new.  Some days he will take you to a secret location he’s kept to himself for years, or just go with the waves and take you onto a whole another impromptu date, making so many memories that the momentary gloominess you felt at some point will be thoroughly forgotten in the process, replaced by some form of beautiful, genuine happiness. And that’s what he wants.All he wants is your happiness, really. Please keep smiling. He loves you so much.

Jade would love to show you the coral reefs up close and enjoy the feeling of you clinging onto him as he zooms around to give you a better view of whatever it is that may or may not have caught your attention. He will dive deep into the depths of his homelands, show you the places he used to frequent as a child, cuddling up in comfortable and nice places that have been undisturbed and unrivaled for as long as he’s known whenever you felt tired or wanted to pause for a bit. Wrapping his tail snugly around you and holding you to his chest, he’ll opt to tell you stories and silly memories as you rest, sometimes admitting to some of his naive and dorky childhood moments as well. And when you say you wish you could do this more often, you can not only hear, but also feel the way his lovesick heart does flips and shakes against the cage of his ribs. You swear you hear ‘love’ in its most true expression in Jade’s voice when he whispers a promise of ‘we can, if you want to’. Jade thrives with each awe struck look you give, the way you gasp when something truly surprises or impresses you, and most of all, he loves the feeling of being so close to you. He wants to be close like this forever.

Azul enjoys the safety of established domestic love. And as expected as it is, he cannot deny how he compared it to the comfort of his octopot in the past, though he might use something else to describe it, personally. And if he got to pick it, he’d say he’d compare it to his heart; it keeps him alive. You keep him going, in ways he wouldn’t admit openly to save his life, but you don’t force him to admit it, and that’s just one of the many, many reasons he adores you. The octomer enjoys wrapping his arms behind you in a gentle yet firm hug as he soaks in the scent of your hair, as if recharging; and sometimes you find him to hum a habitual tune as his hands rub circles on your skin. He enjoys helping you around your shared living space, finding himself both proud and flustered whenever the two of you try more intimate yet overlooked things such as bathing together; but ever since the first few times, he’s found himself overcoming the internalized tension built up in the distant past, and instead focus on helping you shampoo your hair.

[snnnailmail]

I see you need some Howdy requests °^°, I am here to provide!

I think it would be cool to see Howdy grow some kind of self-awareness much like wally. Its small stuff first, seeing a small thin crease line up where the sky is and he probably thinks its just his eyes playing tricks on him. Then it would start to derail to seeing the seems of his friends, and feeling that something is isnt quite right no matter how he twists and turns, his body doesnt feel like *his* now, and we're basically here to try to do some damage control because he draws attention to himself (wally side eyeing him heavily)

-🌼

:DDD here’s something like that!! Sorry if I didn’t hit everything,, when I start writing my own visions take over and I forget I’m filling out a request. Anyways,,, I think the concept of walk-around puppets in this universe is horrifying. Here’s my take.

GN! Reader / Ambiguous species

cw: horror and unreality

additional tags: hurt and comfort (you comfort Howdy!)

Also remember my guy has a Transatlantic accent,, so cool so swag. All that time watching Westerns has paid off for me.

<333333333333

When you step into the shop, you’re met with all kinds of pleasantries.

‘Howdy-hey! What’s the news today, sweetheart?’

‘Oh! You’re just in time! I’m having a special on jokes! This ones a kicker! Heard it from Barns himself!’

Not this.

The seven-foot-tall pillar of Home fiddling with his hands like they weren’t his own. If he weren’t your friend it would be grotesquely unprofessional.

“What’s got you down, Howdy?”

You tried to approach this like it was just another bit. Like he was going to announce that someone had picked up the wrong order and he’d send you on a quest around town to find the oblivious culprit. Hilarity ensued.

The look on his face told you otherwise.

No script this time. Just terror.

He shook his head, like some sort of thought was trying to come loose that he just couldn’t get rid of.

“Oh, ah, nothing to bother about. I just got a late shipment to fuss over… right before closing time, too! A shame. I’ll be getting home late tonight. Good thing my home is upstairs, ey? Haha!”

The change in demeanor was relieving, but you were still uncomfortable.

“Oh… I’ll give you a hand, in that case!”

Two hands found his cheeks, one flipped towards you bashfully. “That’s so sweet… you think I need six hands to get around here? By all means!”

You grinned, forgetting whatever your reason was for stopping by. You stepped behind the counter.

But then you paused. It hit you, that you had never been back here before. No one has.

Howdy looked at you happily, blankly. “Weird, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He headed towards the back. You took a second to confirm with yourself that neither of you were going to elaborate. At least not yet, you think. You followed him.

He did indeed have a shipment. All kinds of inventory. Fruit, snacks, cleaning supplies.

“Our little town sure goes through a lot.”

He was beside you with all four hands on his hips.

It was silent for a moment.

“Who brings you these?”

Howdy laughed with closed eyes. “That… I would love to know.”

The two of you worked quietly. Whether occupied with stocking, or just processing the events prior, you didn’t know. You didn’t mind the silence, but the air was heavy. Like there was something you two should have been acknowledging, but it was lost, or hiding.

You decided to stick around and help him close. Putting up food and taking apart warmers, mostly.

“I can’t believe you do all this by yourself every night.”

“All in a day’s work! ‘Sides, being busy ain’t too bad.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“It feels good to be good for something. Even here.”

The silence was back, but now you were looking at him.

“Less time to think, right?”

Howdy’s eyes widened, like the notion had been ready to jump off his head the whole time, and he couldn’t believe you put it in the air like that. And then his eyes sank in relief, because you felt it too.

“Don’t be shy to come around when you need to quit all that thinking. There’s plenty here to keep you busy.”

“I will.”

Work resumed, putting everything in its place.

“Be careful, darlin’.” He said, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You too.”

And he laughed, and you didn’t like that.

When all was said and done the two of you looked at the pristine store with some sort of pride, muddled by grief that you weren’t even contemplating before you stepped in. Hazy orange shadows coated the walls and floor.

“How about you stay the night? Wouldn’t want you out and about in the dark.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

But this wasn’t a sleepover of games and stories and staying up past bedtimes. You just needed to be there, and be real. As real as you could get.

Howdy was gazing out the window of his bedroom.

“Funny how dark it gets out there. You would think… I’m not so sure, actually.”

You scooted over to confirm. His window might as well have been a pitch black rectangle. You could just barely make out the outline of Home and their kind eyes.

You closed the curtain.

The two of you settled down for the night. Howdy’s sleeping routine involved spreading out a blanket and rolling himself up in it like a cocoon, or a burrito, and that was kind of funny. You laid right beside him and kept your eyes glued to the ceiling. A night light glowed softly to the side, shaped like a butterfly. A gift, probably.

Howdy didn’t have many qualms sleeping. He worked too hard for his mind to stay wired through the night.

But you sure made it easier, he thought. He imagined the hours rolling by a lot differently if he was alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of scary things, like the sky. The pitch black sky. Like a sheet had been thrown over the entire expanse of home. Everyone knew what the moon was. Where was it?

You shifted beside him, and his train of thought pushed the breaks, coming to a gentle stop.

Wally approached you the next day, casually, as you were tending to some plants.

“Hi, you. What were you up to last night, neighbor?”

You gave him an odd look, but you were used to nosy neighbors at this point.

“Oh, with Howdy! I had no idea I hung out till dark, so we had a sleepover.”

Wally hummed. “That’s sweet.” And walked away. You let out a breath of air when he was out of earshot.

You’ve been paying more attention to your caterpillar friend since then.

He’s been distant. On the occasion he leaves the shop, he’s always glancing around like someone was going to leap out of the bushes and tell him he’s been duped.

He’s always been suave, persuasive. A cool cat or whatever. With so many arms and hands and fingers you can easily spot the anxiety creeping into his form. Your friends noticed, too. Wally seemed especially worried. Poor guy.

You were at the shop one day, just visiting, checking up. Howdy’s demeanor was… upsetting. He kept all his hands in a ball, fidgeting.

It was well past closing and a little yellow figure was passing by the doors. Howdy ushered you to the back. You went along, albeit slightly alarmed.

“You good?”

Howdy rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah— you bet, you bet. Just don’t want any last-minute customers. Love em’, but they’re a pain to clean up after.”

You weren’t convinced. You looked back towards the entrance, but Howdy had taken your hands.

“Just tell me something.”

Unexpected, but this is the most you’ve gotten out of him about the whole conundrum in a while. You nodded.

“Alright. Now this will sound strange, but I need you to put your hands on my hands. Just feel em’.”

His two lower arms raised towards you, and Howdy was your friend and frankly you didn’t care about how strange it sounded, so you reached out and intertwined your fingers. Gave them a squeeze. Just like everyone else, they were soft and cushiony. If you pinched hard enough you could feel your fingers on both sides, but that would hurt. You looked back up.

“Okay.” He replaced those with his upper set of arms. Not having second thoughts, you took those as well.

And paused.

Solid. Completely. You could almost say they were warm. You looked up at him in alarm, still holding his hands, squeezing them, like if you held them long enough they would go back to being normal and you two could laugh about this, but you knew that wasn’t a possibility. Your thumb was on his wrist. It was beating, flowing.

“There is something terribly wrong with me.”

[randomwriteronline]

Bionicle and Plato's Cave: Mata Nui help us Random has been thinking again

HI. MY BRAIN HAS ONCE AGAIN BEEN SCRAMBLED. WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING.

A thing about stories is that there aren't really fully, one-hundred percent original ones. This is not a bad thing, it just happens.

Stories keep repeating one another whether we like it or not, maintaining their own identities through a variety of changes, and Bionicle repeats many, many stories within itself: you've got Polynesian mythos, fantasy epics, dystopian fiction, cosmic horrors, torahic and/or biblical episodes, a subversion of Pinocchio, an Odissey cut short... The works. I'm half certain one would manage to fit some parts of the Divine Comedy in there, probably.

But speaking of deeply allegorical works, the Organic Annal is that too - specifically bearing a resemblance to one of Greek philosopher Plato's most famous allegorical myths, that of the cave.

For those who do not know it, please have a simplistic bastardized version of its first half, which is the most relevant in this case:

A group of men have been, since birth, shackled within the deepest recesses of a cave. They are sat facing a wall upon which a fire casts the shadows of figurines (a tree, a donkey, a vase, etc) placed before it: this is all they've ever known, what they perceive to be reality. Imagine, then, that one of these prisoners manages to free themself from their restraints, and for the first time looks back. Thus they discover the figurines, the fire, and the lie they thought was truth; and though it would be easy to consider these new idols the "true" reality, the prisoner looks past them and sees that the cave stretches forward. As such they crawl through it until they reach the outside world: the sunlight forces their eyes down as they are not used to it yet, and their first taste of this new environment is a reflection in a puddle, or maybe a lake, wobbly and not quite clear. Only when they've accustomed to the Sun they can raise their head and properly discover the real world.

The myth of the cave is an allegory for the philosopher's quest in search of true knowledge, which resides not in the imperfect physical world, but in the perfect metaphysical realm of ideas.

This is not, necessarily, the allegory I believe the Innard Scoresheet represents.

The Biological Chronicle is, to me, a story about stories. About making stories, about being swept in the flow of a story, about recreating ourselves in stories over and over and over again.

I promise it will probably make more sense later.

But back to the point: the myth and the Flesh Record follow a similar structure and have a similar message. That is the thesis of this post until I inevitably get derailed again. Let's look at that.

In applying the steps (shadow, copy, reflection, reality) of the philosopher's journey towards enlightenment to the Meat Diaries, I'll do what Plato would bludgeon my head with a stick for and take them much more literally: the places described are physical ones, and the characters actively move between them. This is not because of any personal wish to specifically spite some dead Athenian fuck, but because that is literally what happens in the Entrail Annotations, whether through actual movement or changes of perspective.

The island of Mata Nui is of course the first step: shadows cast upon a cave wall.

There is a certain irony in this. Mata Nui shares the same allegorical location as the cave, yet physically is its complete opposite - an open space signaling the end of an enormous interconnected system of caves. The journey starts from the end. Great job everybody, we've found reality! This philosophy shit is easy.

But the island is still very much the cave. It looks prettier and livelier than the cave, but it's still a prison in which the Matoran have been confined with no chance of escaping; it's still cut off from the world at large, be it beneath it ir around it; it's still a place where beings who do not know any better blindly believe what is told to them. Only seven people know the truth (or what they believe to be the truth) and spin it in tales of shadow puppets: simplistic retellings full of gaps to fill with magic and terror and prophecies. The Turaga mean no harm - they had no way to know when or if they would have ever returned to Metru Nui, and it made no sense reminding the Matoran of a place they may end up agonizing to see without being able to - but it remains that Mata Nui is a cave, a prison of ignorance.

Things change after Mask of Light: shackles broken and door opened, the silver sea stretches before the Matoran and offers them a sight familiar yet different, more defined.

Metru Nui is the figurine, the copy held in front of the fire. It's the first introduction to the Matoran Universe proper, the first step towards the cave's exit. Here we see how the Matoran are supposed to work, how this sort of society is meant to function, and it... well, it sort of sucks the joy out of it, doesn't it? The soft edges of the figurine's shadow have been replaced by hard protodermis sides that leave no room to the imagination, letting us see the craftmanship clearly. And it's... it's kind of unpleasant. Kind of dull and mean and so... unmagical. I'd like the shadows again please. Those were nicer.

(Plato describes this exact happenstance in the philosopher's journey - upon seeing something closer to the truth one might feel repelled and want to return to simpler times. But we persevere. We must.)

Or perhaps this step is not Metru Nui itself, but the Turaga's recollection of it. The city they knew is now gone, abandoned to itself and rotting miserably alone for a thousand years, and yet they still cling to that pristine image their minds have sculpted for it, forgetting details, crafting imperfect copies of its reality: their own stories place it in a time before time, turn it as they say in a "city of legends", of great minds and a great hero and a strange tension pervading it that they might not consciously recognize. This is their basis for the stories they told, and they believe it to be the truth. It is not. The truth is deeper behind them.

The Matoran Universe as a whole is a reflection in the water. We've gotten out of that cave, but it's still too bright and our eyes can't adapt quickly enough: this will have to do for now.

But what is it a reflection of? A body? That's a given, since the whole thing is housed inside one. Yet this body does not behave like a body, its organs don't act like organs. They are landmarks and settlements, and there are species and parties involved in their own more or less treacherous businesses, and death is everywhere and seldom spares anybody, and evil isn't a singular incomprehensible thing but many perfectly identical pieces, and everything is happening all the time and I would like a break. Please. I can't handle all of this. It's too close to how everything already is. Let's go back to the figurines. They were worse than the shadows, but not to this extent. Please. I just don't want to see the bad guys win. I just don't want to see my friends die.

(Upon seeing something closer to the truth one might feel repelled and want to return to simpler times. But we persevere. We must.)

The Matoran Universe is a terrible place, but it's still far away. The edges are wobbly when the surface shifts: the stakes are universal in size, the rivalries are exaggerated, the situations are fantastical, the evil so terrible and terribly simple. It does what it does because it simply does it, and after all why else should it do it? In its increasing complexity it's still simple and sometimes a bit silly. It's still dolls that you can hold in your hand to make fly around.

As @sepublic mentions briefly here, Bara Magna is by contrast just so human. Before the big bombastic Rock-Em-Sock-Em Jumbo Edition ending and peeling away the sci-fi elements, these are stories of people trying to live. This is reality.

People are sleazy. People have priorities that not always include the well-being of other being put first. People are evil for reasons beyond just "power" or "money" or "why not". Strakk is a massive selfish bastard and also he is the one motherfucker who gets me because to be very honest I too would not want to wade through a desert crawling with quicksand and huge bat winged serpents and raptor riding marauders and spartans so bloodthirsty they don't even name their children until they make a new body count record without being paid well enough. Mata Nui's idealized honor makes him a complete anomaly because nobody is a prince in shining armor here. They're all covered in bones and doing their best not to start a war again.

Even his quest, despite what it entails and how solemnly he presents it and the information we as readers have (his identity as a usurped god exiled from his own body), is surprisingly real - in fact, his struggle is actually the same as Kiina's: both of them are strangers to the region suddenly separated from their people during a time of great strife and desperately wanting to reunite with them. The difference being that while Kiina had no chance to do such a thing, Mata Nui was built to fix both of their problems.

This is what the Matoran Universe is made in the image of. And while it very much deviated across time, the core of it remained the same: elemental tribes and variegated species caught in a dance of death, biting each other's tails endlessly.

This is the world the MU beings find once fully free. It's rough, but they've been through something like this before.

They'll handle it.

They always have.

That is the will of the Non-Mineral Journal.

Of Bionicle, the story-that-ended.

BUT.

Not necessarily of Bionicle, the story-that-does-not-end.

Now we are getting into "Random Experiences Getting The Brain Scrubbed By The Hard Back Of A Sponge And Makes It The Problem Of Everybody Listening To The Inane Yelling" territory. I'm talking walking into headcanon if not straight up just fanfiction territory. Possibly also sensible speculation but I don't know how to tell. Please do come smack me if you feel it is needed.

It's wild that Bionicle has managed to endure for what now (2024) are 23 years. The endless rebuildable possibilities intrinsic to being a LEGO product have certainly helped, but at the same time I really do feel like it wouldn't have held this strongly without its story.

I will admit I'm not a building kind of person. I had some ancient LEGO bricks when I was little and what I usually did with them was stacking them in a really tall line and try to keep it upright until they fell and scattered like lemmings booking it for a cliff. Getting into Bionicle would have never been possible for me had my dear beautiful friend @cantankerouscanuck not innocently dropped me links to Legends of Metru Nui, Web of Shadows, and the Crosswired Geeks website asking if I could have please considered skimming through it. This was back in september 2023. These pieces of plastic have been irreversibly fucking up my brain for nine months, and it was only possible because the plot and characters were written in a way that actively sunk its teeth into my skull and did an alligator death spin so potent that I'm still reeling from it, thinking about it.

I do think that's one of the main reasons why it's still going, why people still talk about it. It lives on through fans who still look at all the enormous potential left by the gaps and holes in the story and work on them, analyze them, make their own versions of them. So this second section is about that part of Bionicle, the story that just does not end, carried on by others.

So back to the point, what actually kickstarted this entire line of thought (the Squishy Note and the allegory of the cave are sort of the same lol) was a headcanon I have about the characters that have been actually missing from this analysis: the Great Beings.

You Know.

The Guys Who Kickstarted Every Single Thing, And Notably Continuously Did All Of It Wrong.

From my own prior knowledge I had understood that they are all Glatorian, and I just learned that they also were, apparently, given their incredible weird fucked up mental powers that made them into godly creatures by a space octopus.

I am going to take both pieces of information and discard them.

There is nothing necessarily wrong with them, except maybe coming from the leftest field available like a sack of granite to the face, but I feel like this kind of explanation for who and what they are isn't really satisfactory to me specifically. It does fit with the allegory of the cave still, technically - they are part of the real world, the ones who created every layer of detachment from it on purpose (somebody must have shackled those prisoners at the bottom of the cave, after all) and have managed to get to a higher level of reality still, following the platonic quest for knowledge into something that resembles the iperuranium, the perfect metaphysical world in which ideas reside.

But also... I'd like for there to be a limit to how higher we can go, you know? Into the cosmic horror? Because everything is cosmic horror in the Doctor's Report already. We live on a god's face. We live in a god's body. We are a god's cells. Our universe is a tiny manmade action figure in a larger universe. Our god is just a synthetic soul. The real older gods made it and sent it around to do their bidding. Also they're all gonna kill us when we figure out our universe is fake. Cosmic horror. Cosmic horror for miles. These are fucking LEGOs. Why is there so much existentialism in them.

So yeah, at the cost of sounding boring the psychic octopus from outer space might be a little bit too far for my personal tastes.

This does not mean I am immune to adding onto the cosmic horror.

Because my personal interpretation of who/what they are still adds onto the cosmic horror.

It just doesn't also include "giant aquatic fauna with psychic powers" in the already very large salad of sentient sapient species who have stakes in this universe, because I think we have enough of those.

So what is my platonic ideal form for them?

The Great Beings are human beings. Straight up just people. They're the readers, the players, the writers, the designers, the creators and tellers of the chronicle itself - they have this immense dominion over everything around them because they are the origin of everything around them in a sense, but their constant failings make sense because for all the influence and power they are still human, and that makes them very, very fallible. I mean, mr Greg "I will rewire your brain chemistry forever with some of the best stuff you'll read as a kid, and also for undiscernible reasons doors aren't canon" Farshtey would be one of them. Things make a lot of sense.

(this is impossible in Stone Cold Canon by the way and I am aware, because if we got to properly see the Great Beings they would have needed to be products to sell, but this is not a matter of probability it's a matter of Vision. like can you imagine how fucking cool would have been a Bonkle movie where the characters finally meet the Great Beings face to face and when it happens the style just completely shifts from 3D animation to a stop-motion and live-action combo with the Great Beings played by people and the characters portrayed by their actual sets with all of the lack of expression and stiff hands and all. do you see it. im about to blow up)

And so, we return to the allegory.

What are the shadows on the wall? Are they still the Turaga's tales? Then shouldn't they be their memories, as well? Everything that comes out of their mouth is hazy either with nostalgia or simplification, and none of it can be real. Yet they present it as such, because to them it is. Their ignorance is the same as the Matoran's, but they do not grasp it because they can't. Mata Nui to them is not the cave, it's the reflection in a lake: an imperfect mirror of reality. They cannot see the fire nor the figurines.

They are the figurines. Man-made creations confined under artificial light in a vast underground system, as large as a whole galaxy and yet so small, so isolated, so far back into the cave they are never meant to know anything other than. The shadows were their own but they can't realize that, and they can't realize they themselves are copies. The Matoran Universe is a puppet show that Teridax shuts down as he takes its reigns: he banishes its fire, Mata Nui (who is a gnostic Demiurge, a god made by gods demanding worship despite its falsehood - another copy not fully aware of being a copy) and shuts the entrance, plunging it all into darkness. No more knowledge. It is not something dolls need, after all.

Bara Magna is not the last step. It is not yet reality, not yet the truth. It's closer, much closer, but it's not: it's the lake, the puddle, the reflection that distorts when something is thrown into it. The stakes are more realistic, the characters and motivations, but not yet real. There is still a layer of separation: the elemental powers, the alien setting, the strange beasts, the supernatural history, the secrets pointing to things much bigger and more fantastical than anything reality could be, the way it is cut short by no fault of its own. What does it reflect? It's not the Matoran Universe, since that is a model based on Bara/Spherus Magna. It's not Mata Nui, because that is an attempt at recreating what the Matoran Universe was, at least in part. So... Is it the real world? Our, world?

It must be.

The Great Beings (us, the players and readers and writers and artists) shaped all of this. This universe is their creation, their work, and it is based on what they know, on their reality, because all stories are.

Maybe it was a story as close to real as possible that turned fantastic and wild until it became mythical, or maybe it was a simple story that grew so complex and grounded that it became life-like. It doesn't matter. It's a long story, a really, really long one, and maybe they're tired of it, or maybe they don't know what to do with it, or maybe they just think it has run its course, or maybe... Maybe they don't know how to tell it again. Tell it like this again.

So... I guess the thing to do is clean up.

Full tabula rasa.

And once we're done we can take these figurines we still have left, the last proof of all this immense work, this spiraling dive into who and what we are, how we function, how we create, how we imitate and recreate ourselves in fictional worlds that are our own and yet completely alien over and over, and make new ones. Distorted reflections that become imperfect copies to place before a fire so that their shadows can play out a new story upon a cave wall, for those same dolls to believe they are real.

God I got sidetracked severely

[holdmytesseract]

For the sleepover my love

Yn Kenobi looks for Kylo Ren after the force ghost of Anakin advised her to stop his dark path - they end up in a fight of swords and moral and attraction ❤️

Torn Apart

Kylo Ren x fem!Reader

Warnings: uhhh Star Wars stuff? Lightsabers/fights, angst, fluff? Y/N is Obi-Wan's granddaughter.

Word Count: definitely a bit more than a drabble 👀

a/n: Well... What can I say... I love this. Thank you so much, friend. I changed it up a bit, but you know. 😉

The hangar was bustling with pilots, droids and other Resistance fighters; maintaining and repairing their ships and coordinating things. You didn't pay much attention, though. Your focus was entirely on getting your X-Wing prepared for your mission. But just as you wanted to board your star-fighter, a voice cut through the noises of heavy machinery and chatter. A voice you only knew too well.

"Y/N! Y/N wait!"

You knew you shouldn't; knowing that your friend would only try to hold you back, but you also just couldn't leave.

"Y/N!" Finn called out again; reaching you completely out of breath. "Finn. What are you doing here?" You had a guess, but asked anyway.

"Don't... Don't go." The former stormtrooper panted; looked at you with a pleading gaze. You sighed. "Finn... I have to." He violently shook his head. "No, no you don't. We'll find another way!" "There's no other way," you said; placing a hand on his shoulder. "There always is!" Your friend immediately shot back; almost desperate. "No. Not this time."

A frustrated groan left the man's lips. "Why, Y/N? Why you?! Why must you do this?! Just because you're former friends with this... traitorous snake?"

You sighed once again; memories of your youth quite a few years back flooded your mind, causing you to quickly shut your eyes and close them off again. Now was not the time to wallow in the past.

"We weren't just friends, Finn." It was all you said, before you climbed inside the X-Wing.

"Not just friends?" Finn had clearly trouble to catch up what you meant. "What is that supposed to- Hold on..." All features of your friend's face derailed. The next words he literally shouted at you fell on deaf ears. The cockpit around you was already closed. You took a deep breath, ignored Finn and started the engines. He had no other choice than to step aside and let you go.

You left the hanger and with that the main Resistance cruiser behind. But before you set course for the planet below you, you sent a last message to your General. Leia Organa.

"This is Y/N Kenobi on my way back to D'Qar. General Organa... You might not agree on this, but we both know that I have to do it. It's probably my last- no... My only chance." You paused; taking another deep breath. "I'm going to bring him back to you, Leia. Back to us. I will leave D'Qar with him... Or not at all." With those words you ended your message and addressed your droid. "BB-7?" The familiar beeping of your mechanic friend caused you to smile. "Can you send this message to General Organa as soon as we landed?" The answer came promptly. "Thanks, buddy. Now let's get this done." With that you flew off; opposed the direction of your people. While the Resistance evacuated D'Qar, you flew straight back into the danger zone; hoping that your target would come alone and not bringing any friends.

On your monitor, you saw the ships of the Resistance fleet jump to light speed and vanish on the radar.

You flew straight back to the now former base, hid away your X-Wing in the deep forests of the planet and waited. Waited for your destiny to find its way to you.

And it did.

You could already feel his presence through the force. Even though he hadn't stepped a single foot on this planet. Yet.

You hid on top of one of the tarnished mounds, right behind a massive satellite; watching his shuttle invade the sky above you. You expected him to fire everything he got at the base, but you also knew that he wasn't stupid. He landed - and when the ramp lowered and he stepped out, you felt your breath catch in your throat; heartbeat quickening.

You hadn't seen him in years. Lastly when he destroyed Luke's Jedi temple on Ossus all those years back. Once more, memories flooded your mind. Of that very night. How you tried to talk sense into Ben; screaming his name through the fire, cries and whirring sound of lightsabers. In vain. It was the moment you realised that you had lost him.

And now you were here to get him back.

Due to the mask he wore, you couldn't see his face, of course, but you knew that he must at least feel that something was off. He stood in the middle of the deserted base; looking around for a few moments. Then he made his way towards one of the entries.

That was it. The moment you had waited for; destiny finally catching up with you.

You took a deep breath and left your hiding place.

"They aren't here anymore. Nobody is. You're too late."

Kylo stopped in his movements; like frozen to the ground with his back towards you. You jumped from the mound; landing on the earthy ground right behind him. He clearly needed a moment to recover.

"Am I?" His distorted voice urged to your ears; almost causing your knees to give in. You were so weak in this very moment; knowing that your feelings for him hadn't changed. Not even in the slightest. The difficulty was to hide it from him.

"Yes," you answered as stoically as possible. "You won't find the Resistance fighters here. Neither your mother, nor your uncle."

Suddenly, he turned to face you, "That may be. But you are here." and started to slowly pace up and down. "Why?"

"Because I have to. It's where I need to be. My destiny."

"Your destiny?" Kylo spat mockingly. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Yes... That clearly wasn't the man you once knew. The man you kissed at night and secretly shared a bed with; breaking the rules. But what he did was way worse than breaking some rules.

You clenched your teeth; knowing that you had to stay strong.

"Take at least that stupid mask off you're hiding behind, when you talk to the woman you once shared a bed with!" You could tell that your words hit a nerve; seeing his fists clench and unclench.

Silence settled over the base, until a mechanic hiss sounded from across you. He was taking his mask off. You didn't expect this. Not at all. And when familiar brown eyes met yours, you felt like a deer caught in the headlights. You couldn't even move a single muscle. All you did was looking in those beautiful brown eyes, which were once filled with love and gentleness. The same brown eyes you so often sought and found comfort in. Which had been your safe haven. The key element of your whole existence. The ones you had trusted with your life.

And now? Now they only held darkness, strength and raw power. This realisation ripped your heart into shreds. You wanted to be so strong and now you had to fight so hard against the upcoming tears.

Avoiding his gaze was the only salvation. So you did; let your gaze wander over his facial features instead.

He had grown; was definitely more mature. That much you could tell. The sweet, happy, sunny boy replaced by a cold, harsh, merciless man.

Nevertheless, you couldn't deny that he was the same handsome man with the beautiful long black curls you fell in love with.

Kylo didn't say a single word either; just looking at you seemingly emotionless.

You shook your head; suppressing the tears. "What happened to you, Ben?" "I've seen the truth, Y/N. I killed the past."

This shot a searing pain through your whole body. "Killed the past? Ben, this isn't your destined path! You can still turn around! It's not too late!"

The man opposite you furrowed his brows. "That's why you're here? To win me over?" "No... This isn't just about winning you over. I'm here because I want the man I love back." Now Kylo was the one shaking his head. "It's too late for that, Y/N. You can't turn me. Nothing won't change my mind. Not even love. I'm going to do what I have to do and fulfil my grandfather's legacy...," he snarled; drawing his lightsaber. With an ear-piercing hiss came its blood red blade to light, "...and nobody will stop me. Not even you." pointed straight into your direction.

You swallowed hard and drew your lightsaber as well. Unlike Kylo's blade was yours blue. "Well, that's too bad for you, because I am not going to let you walk away a second time. I already made that mistake once. I won't let it happen again."

"Foolish of you to believe this. You've got too much of your father and grandfather in you." "Yes... Just like you, Solo."

Kylo gritted his teeth and stormed forwards; his lightsaber clashing against yours.

The fight was hard, rough and unforgiving. You and Kylo threw in everything you got; not once backing up or lacking stamina. One moment Kylo had the upper hand and the next you. Your battle had led you away from the base and all the way into the woods; leaving a trail of burnt earth and destroyed trees behind.

And to make matters even worse, it had started to rain.

You stood on a hill; panting heavily. Kylo stood on the forest ground beneath you; throwing you an angry look.

"Let us stop this madness! Ben, please!" You screamed through the rain; feeling the water soaking your robes. He shook his head; waterdrops dripping from his black curls, "No! We are going to finish what we started!" and raised his lightsaber once more; ready to attack. "It's me - or you!"

You just stared at him for another moment, before you took a deep breath - and jumped. With a loud hiss met your lightsaber his. The strength of your blow caused him to stumble backwards, but he quickly recovered. Once again he stormed forwards and wanted to strike you, but you lifted both your arms; catching his wrists before he was able to hit you.

It was the first time since years, that you touched Ben again - and it almost took your breath away. It felt like time itself froze around you and him.

The force flowing through both your veins connected you; causing visions to explode in front of your eyes. Visions of the future. What was and what could be. They flew by way too fast. It was impossible for you to grasp all of them. But no matter how fast they came and went, they all had one thing in common... A different setting, but the same outcome. You and Ben. Together.

One showed you the two of you flying around the galaxy; exploring every existent planet. Another showed the two of you leading the Resistance, together with his mother. You saw love, a marriage, children - a family.

And suddenly it was all gone. Nothing but silence. Around you. In your mind. Everywhere.

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open; feeling the cold, wet forest ground underneath you. Still a bit dizzy and confused, you stood up and tried to understand what had happened.

Kylo sat on the groud as well, quite a few meters away from you.

The force... The two of you touching each other after such a long time was apparently too much.

But you knew what you saw. He must've seen it, too...

On still wobbly legs and knees, you walked over to Ben; hand outstretched. "Come with me. Please. I've seen the conflict inside you. I've seen your future. Our future. You must have seen it, too!"

Once again were those beautiful brown eyes looking up at you; reflecting the conflict you had seen. "I..." He eyed your hand; the light and darkness battling within Kylo. "I can't," he breathed; eyes filling up with tears.

There it was. The glimmer of hope.

You nodded. "Yes, yes you can! Just take my hand!"

He blinked; torn apart about what to do.

You were absolutely certain that you made it - made him see, but then Kylo acted too fast for you to react. Within the blink of an eye, he jumped to his feet and brought you down on your knees; both lightsabers flying off the ground and into his hands.

That was it. He had overpowered you. You couldn't stand a chance.

Perhaps he was right and it was really too late - but you refused to believe this and started one last desperate try.

"What are you waiting for? Do it! Kill me!" Kylo activated both lightsabers; jaw clenching. "Do it!" You screamed at him again. "I'd rather die than live my life without you; knowing that I really lost you forever!"

Your words caused the man towering above you to freeze in his movements.

"You... You would rather die than live without me?" Kylo asked in disbelief. Wind blew through his hair; rain hitting his face again. "Of course I would! You are all I ever wanted and needed! Don't you see?!"

He answered nothing; only stared at you. The gears in his head turning at lightning speed. Seconds felt like minutes, before he extinguished both blades of the weapons in his hands and threw them carelessly aside. You couldn't believe your eyes when he was dropping to his knees as well in front of you; taking both your hands in his. "I... I think I see now. Clearly, for the first time in my life."

You hesitated at first, but then you felt the conflict in him was gone. There was love, peace and light. You made it. Your love made it.