#...so uh. yeah. I just wanna hide whenever it snows now

[void-tiger]

I still like snow.

But not being able to help safely clear it dampens my enthusiasm.

#tiger’s musings #glass wrists #...it took over a year before my index finger tendon stopped being half as bulgy. it’s still not great but a bit better #...so uh. yeah. I just wanna hide whenever it snows now

[fruitcoops]

Hi! Do you think you’d be willing to write some Cubs fluff for Mardi Gras? Like Leo making Finn and Lo do something (I don’t exactly know how it’s celebrated)?

Oh my god I LOVE Mardi Gras!!! Also, I haven’t done Cubs fluff in a while, and I combined it with a couple other related prompts. This fic includes Cubs and Coops bonding (ft. Logan being a little shit), Leo learning to drive in the snow, a chaotic trip to the grocery store, and Lions family dinner after a winter walk. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

“Eas—Easy, babe, just take it nice and steady,” Finn gripped the ‘oh, shit’ handle with one hand and Leo’s thigh with the other; in the backseat, Logan rubbed his neck where the seatbelt bit into it.

Leo took an unsteady breath and carefully pressed the gas again, wincing as the car rumbled under him. “Oh god, oh fuck, okay.”

“Snow isn’t that hard to drive in—” Finn cut off as Leo slammed on the brakes again. “—as long as you don’t brake hard whenever you feel a little bit of ice. Lo, you okay?”

“Fine,” Logan wheezed, bracing against the car door.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Finn murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as Leo began inching forward again. “If you start to slip, take your foot off the gas and do not slam the brakes, okay? We don’t want to skid.”

“I don’t get why you can’t drive us there,” Leo said, glancing in each of his mirrors even though they were still in a fairly residential area. Ten minutes on the road and they’d barely made it four blocks from the apartment.

“Because you need to know how to drive properly.”

“I know how to drive!” Leo saw Finn and Logan exchange a look through the rearview mirror and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Stop it. When’s my next turn?”

“Still 53rd.”

“Left or right?”

“Right.” Finn tapped out a quick text on his phone. “Cap and Loops just arrived at the store.”

“Fuck,” Leo muttered.

“It’s okay, Peanut, take your time,” Logan said. “Just focus on getting there safely.”

Leo tried to breathe deep and they rolled down the block, flinching each time snow or ice crackled under the tires or threatened to make them slide. “I drive in the rain all the time. This shouldn’t be hard.”

“Rain is way different than snow.” Finn pointed to the next intersection. “Turn there.”

They took the turn a bit wide, but thankfully there were no cars on the other side—still, both Finn and Logan went pale. Logan cleared his throat. “Streets here aren’t as wide as New Orleans, mon amour.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leo grumbled. “How much further?”

“The parking lot is on the next block.”

They almost got stuck driving up the small ramp into the parking lot due to Leo’s ‘slow and steady’ approach and he could have sworn he heard Logan muttering the Hail Mary in French under his breath. Parking was easy—nobody in their right mind would be driving after a true Gryffindor snowstorm. Except us, he thought wryly as he turned the engine off.

“Don’t forget to lock the car,” Finn said mere seconds after the key was out.

“Dude.”

“Sorry. Uh, Cap’s by the produce section.”

They were too focused on not slipping and falling on their asses to talk much while they walked through several snowdrifts to get to the front entrance of the grocery store; Leo sighed with happiness as soon as the heated air hit his face.

“Harzy!” Cap waved an arm over his head from the apple stand, smiling brightly. “You survived!”

“It was a close one,” Finn called back with a grin, sliding his hand into Leo’s back pocket as the three of them walked over.

“Dibs on riding in the cart!” One of Logan’s legs was already halfway into the basket before Sirius could stop him; he kicked aside the celery and onions and settled down, leaning back onto Sirius’ hands. “Bonjour.”

“Get out.”

“Non. I live here now.”

“I’m not pushing you.”

“I will!” Finn said. “Where’s the old ball and chain, Capsicle?”

“Call me that again and you can say goodbye to your ball and chain,” Remus said drily, lugging a bag of rice over from the other aisle. He stopped when he saw Logan, looking amused. “Hiya, Tremz. You look comfy.”

“Oh, I am.” Logan lounged in the cart, letting one leg drape over the side; he groaned when Remus set the rice bag on his chest. “Was that necessary?”

“No, but it was funny.” He grinned at Leo. “How was driving?”

Leo shrugged. “Decent.”

Sirius snorted as they began walking toward the meat section. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s a miracle I wasn’t beheaded,” Logan said. “Fish, how fast can you make it to the end of the aisle?”

“Loops, time me.” Finn tightened his grip on the cart and bent into a runner’s stance; Leo and Sirius both rolled their eyes as Remus dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up the timer.

“Ready…set…go!” Finn ran for three steps before hopping onto the under carriage as Logan whooped. Remus stopped the timer. “Four point six seconds! Get back here, I wanna try.”

“You’re not going to beat that time,” Logan laughed as he climbed out of the cart.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at the same time Remus stuck his tongue out. “Watch me. Knutty, can I trust you to be an unbiased timer?”

Leo shrugged. “Sure, gimme your phone.”

“You have one of your very own.”

“Trying to hide something, are we?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sirius pushed him away by the forehead. “Spill the beans, Loops! Got some spicy messages in there? Some things poor baby Nutter Butter can’t handle?”

“No, I just don’t trust any of you with anything that belongs to me,” he laughed. “You’re walking safety hazards.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Leo said as he set the timer. “Ready? Go!”

Sirius nearly tipped the cart over when he stood on the lower bar, making both of them yelp and wobble for a moment. Leo stopped the clock at the end of the aisle. Three point nine seconds.

“Sorry, guys, that’s four point eight seconds!” he called as Sirius pushed the cart back up to them.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Show me the phone.”

“I already reset the time.”

“So we definitely won,” Sirius said while Remus clambered out of the basket and Logan took his place. “Get out, Tremzy!”

“Make me!”

Sirius reached in and grabbed him under his armpits, but Logan kept a tight grip on the sides. “Are you done?” Remus asked wearily once Sirius started shaking him. “ ‘cause our grocery list is, like, a million miles long.”

With a disgruntled noise, Sirius dropped Logan back into the cart. “With any luck, he’ll be crushed under the food. What’s next?”

They had a few more competitions during their journey through the store, including onion basketball, vegetable Tetris, and a highly amusing game of twenty questions that ended in Sirius laying the bag of rice over Logan’s face.

Leo did some mental math as they walked out with six grocery bags full of ingredients. “We’ll need about seven pots to fit all this, but we’ve only got two that would work.”

“I think we’ve got one or two as well,” Remus said as he hauled a bag into the trunk of their car and brushed his hands off. “Celeste probably has some, and I can give Lily a call. Where are we making it, again?”

“Dumo’s. There’s nowhere near enough space at the apartment and I don’t want these two anywhere close to it.”

Finn shot him an offended look over a bag of onions. “Hey!”

“I love you, sweetheart, but if you fuck up my gumbo I’ll cry.” In the back of his mind, Leo was already thinking of small jobs for Logan and Finn to do so they could make it together, but they didn’t need to know that. It could be a Mardi Gras surprise.

“The sun’s coming out,” Sirius mused, looking upward at the clear blue sky. “Nothing we bought is going to melt. Do you want to go for a walk before we head out?”

Logan checked his phone. “We’ve got time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leo agreed.

“I’m never going to say no to a snow day,” Finn laughed, wrapping his arms around Leo and Logan. “Lead the way.”

“So, Knutty, gumbo is basically chicken noodle soup, right?” Sirius asked as he linked elbows with Remus and started down the sidewalk.

“Uh, no.” Leo made a disgusted face and reached out to smack the back of his shoulder. “That’s blasphemy. Gumbo is more like stew, but you put less meat in it and more of a vegetable base. There aren’t noodles, either. Do you even know what a roux is?”

Sirius glanced back at Finn, who shrugged. “…I do not.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Leo muttered. “A roux is the base to all good New Orleans food. It’s flour and oil, and you heat it up so whatever you’re making has an actual taste to it, as well as some thickness. If you get it wrong, the whole thing is pretty much ruined.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Damn.”

Ahead of them, a pack of kids played pickup hockey on the park’s frozen pond. Several of them wore Lions sweatshirts or hats and Leo leaned his head on Finns beanie with a smile. “Look at how cute they are,” Finn cooed, waving to some of the astonished parents who had spotted them.

“Oh, killer hit,” Remus said as one kid went on a breakaway. “Is he—hey, nice shot!”

They paused for a second to applaud and a jumble of excited yelling echoed off the trees around the pond; Leo burst out laughing and draped his other arm across Logan’s shoulders, pulling him in closer to their huddle as they began to walk again. “We should head out there sometime. We live close enough.”

Finn hummed in agreement and stood on his tiptoes with a hopeful smile. “Kisses?”

Leo obliged, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous. That had nothing to do with hockey.”

“I didn’t get any kisses,” Logan grumbled, snuggling into Leo’s ribs.

“Get up here and I’ll give you one!”

“My nose is cold!”

Leo sighed dramatically and bent down to kiss the rosy tip of his nose—at the last second, Logan popped his chin out of his coat collar and caught his lips. “That was smooth as fuck. Better?”

“Much.”

“Are you three being gross again?” Remus teased, craning his neck to look back.

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“One walk,” Sirius sighed. “I wanted one walk where we could hang out in peace and quiet.”

“You invited the wrong people for that,” Leo snickered as they looped back around the block into the parking lot. “Harzy, baby, can you drive us back?”

“You need to learn!”

Leo turned on his saddest puppy eyes and stuck his lower lip out. “Please?”

Finn scrunched his nose up and flicked his shoulder lightly. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Obviously.”

------------------------

After a quick pit stop at their apartment to pick up the pots, they arrived at the Dumais house just past two in the afternoon. Sirius and Remus pulled into the driveway just as they began unloading groceries from the truck and hurried over to give them a hand; all five of them were immediately mobbed by children the second they set foot in the house. Leo carefully took the onions from Logan so he could sweep Katie over his shoulder and tickle her knees, making her dissolve into giggles.

“My boys!” Celeste called from the entrance to the kitchen. She practically glowed with excitement as she pulled them into a group hug and Leo melted a little when she pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “You brought the food, yes?”

“We’ve got everything we need,” he confirmed, holding the onions and a pot up as proof. “As long as you’ve got counter space, we’ll be a-okay.”

Sirius and Logan lingered in the doorway, chatting with the kids in rapid French that Leo didn’t even try to keep up with—he used to think regional differences were made up for internet clout, but even after living with Logan for close to a year he sometimes struggled with the pace.

Celeste helped them gather cutting boards, knives, and basic spices that they hadn’t picked up at the store; Leo felt a thrill in his gut and drummed his hands happily on the countertop at the sight of the familiar ingredients. He made a mental note to send a picture to his mother later that night as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Think you can handle rinsing vegetables?” he asked, passing Finn a bag of green peppers.

Finn rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and he pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek before going to the sink. Remus unpacked the last of the bags and gave him an expectant look—Leo was struck by the sudden realization that for once, he was the only one in the kitchen who knew the recipe.

“Um, I’ll start the roux,” he said, grabbing the flour and oil. “Loops, can you start dicing the peppers, celery, and onions? Cap can help out once he gets the squid children off him.”

A smile tugged at the edge of Remus’ mouth. “Bold of you to assume he won’t drag them in here.”

“Alright, Rookie, what’s my job?” Sirius panted, grinning wildly as Adele wrapped herself around his lower leg and groaned with each dragging step.

Remus spared him a playful I told you so look, and Leo shook his head. “As long as you can use a knife with a kid clinging to your leg, you can help your fiancé chop the basics.”

Sirius mock-saluted him and hobbled to the counter; behind him, Logan wandered in with Marc under one arm and Katie under the other. “I have potato sack delivery,” he announced, giving them each a gentle shake. “Can these go in the gumbo, too?”

“No!” both shrieked at the same time, flailing their legs.

“Those look like pretty good potatoes to me…” Sirius said, glancing down at Adele. “What do you think?”

“Put ‘em in the soup!” she yelled.

“It’s not soup,” Leo complained, though he couldn’t be heard over the loud protests of the youngest Dumais kids.

Sirius finally got Adele to let go of him when he started cutting onions—“Do you want to smell like onions?”—but Katie perched on the edge of the counter and watched every move Leo made with eagle eyes as he finished each roux and began mixing the trinity in. Each motion was muscle memory—the smells wrapped him in a hug made of tangy peppers, smooth chicken broth, and a kick of spice at the very end.

Much to his surprise, Sirius, Finn, and Logan were quick learners. Making five massive pots of gumbo was much easier when he had five more hands helping him; Celeste had even been sweet enough to put jazz on as they cooked and the six of them took turns dancing, partnering with whomever was closest.

The others started arriving at five—almost immediately, the kitchen was crowded with ten new hockey players who crammed as close as they could to the stovetop to smell the bubbling broth. Noelle was the only one who was allowed to get within ten feet of the food, much to Talker’s chagrin.

Honestly, it was a miracle that they made it to the table without the rest of the team falling on the gumbo like a pack of wild hyenas who hadn’t eaten for a week. Kasey’s bouncy leg shook the edge of the table in anticipation until Leo reached over and smacked him on the thigh with his spoon. “Be patient, Bliz.”

“I’m always patient!”

Eight different people made noises of protest and he scoffed, leaning his face over the bowl to get a whiff of the thick steam. Dumo tapped his fork on the side of his cup; it wasn’t quite a classy ding-ding, but it made enough noise to catch people’s attention.

“First, thank you all for coming here for a family dinner,” he said, smiling so wide it made Leo’s heart warm. “Second, I’d like to welcome the older and wiser O’Hara to his very first Lions dinner, since he had the great fortune of visiting just in time to be adopted by the team for a night!”

Loud cheers filled the house and Alex gave a slight wave, blushing under the attention as Kasey and Nat jostled him between their shoulders.

“And finally, everyone say ‘thank you’ to Knutty for sharing his top-secret gumbo recipe from home. We might not celebrate Mardi Gras like New Orleans, but this is a party nonetheless.” Dumo raised his water with a wink and Leo squeezed Logan’s hand under the table as seventeen voices thanked him for his cooking, despite the fact that they hadn’t even tasted it yet.

The house went dead silent as people took their first bites, then erupted into noise. “Holy shit, Knutty!” Nado all but shouted, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. “This is witchcraft.”

“It’s called ‘cooking’, you should try it sometime,” Leo shot back, grinning. The chicken thighs melted in his mouth, and the pop of lemon and spice at the back of his throat tingled all the way down to his bones. He didn’t think Pots had taken a breath in thirty straight seconds. Leo closed his eyes, letting the tangled muddle of his family’s voices roll over him, mixing with the taste of home.

“Ça va, mon amour?” Logan asked under his breath, touching his elbow.

Leo smiled and touched their foreheads together, setting his spoon down on the edge of his bowl. “I’m so fucking happy right now.”

Logan smiled and the edges of his eyes crinkled. “You look happy.”

“You two are whispering without me?” Finn whined, scooting his chair over a few inches and squishing Logan between them. His bowl was already half-empty, Leo noted with a sense of satisfaction. “That’s rude.”

“I love you,” Leo said. It needed no embellishments; no big, dramatic displays. “And I love making food for everyone.”

“You can do it any time, baby rookie.” Kasey scraped the sides of his bowl to catch the last few grains of cornbread, knocking his knee with Leo’s. “Next time we have a sleepover, I’m not ordering pizza.”

“So I’m going to be your personal chef?” Leo snorted. “Not a chance.”

“What’s that saying? The Mardi Gras one?”

Leo savored his next bite of gumbo and looked around the table as everyone chatted and laughed at the top of their lungs. “Laissez les bon temps rouler,” he said. “Let the good times roll.”

[swanprompts]

300 DIALOGUE PROMPTS

This is a rebloggable version of my prompt list at my writing blog. This has 105 prompts from my old list and 195 new prompts.

IF YOU USE THESE PROMPTS IN YOUR OWN LISTS, CREDIT @swanimagines !!

LIST A - GENERAL/FUNNY

A1. “Can I take a picture of you?”

A2. “Where do we sleep now?”

A3. “Be quiet, they’ll hear us!”

A4. “I cooked for us! Or tried to cook…”

A5. “Can you explain why my phone is up there?”

A6. “Ugh, people are so weird.”

A7. “Wait, who?”

A8. “But I can’t draw!”

A9. “Your forehead has sauce on it.”

A10. “Stop snoring! You sound like a chain saw.”

A11. “C’mon, you need a reason to get out of here and I have one.”

A12. “No, nooope. I won’t do it. Nope.”

A13. “Do you mean I have to touch that?”

A14. “Wow, a great idea, but I’d rather die.”

A15. “Oh there you are! I thought you had melted through the floor.” “I had plans to do that but then I called them off.”

A16. “I’m trash, just not that kind of trash.”

A17. “Always nagging, aren’t you? Every time I hear your voice, it’s in a language called nag.”

A18. “It’s 6pm, the fridge is mine until 7pm, so… shoo!”

A19: “What’s this?” “I bought you binoculars because now you get to look at them better… or you could go talk to them.”

A20. “I’m gonna hit you.” “What?” “Ugh, that came out wrong.”

A21. “I’m okay. I’m perfectly fine. Yeah… okay, I’m not fine.”

A22. “If you wait for tomorrow, tomorrow is coming. If you don’t wait for tomorrow, tomorrow is still coming.”

A23. “I’m not yelling, I’m discussing with you with a loud voice!”

A24. “Tell me something. Do I look like a bunny?”

A25. “Maybe that secret is that your mom is really a time traveler.”

A26. “Too bad, I wanted to see some ghosts.”

A27. “Not that song, turn it off now!”

A28. “Is this the Heaven?” “More like Hell.”

A29. “Hey keep it down there, I’m trying to sleep!”

A30. “Please don’t use my toothbrush again.”

A31. “Hey, calm down, it’s not so bad…” “Calm down? There’s a riot going on in my bathroom!”

A32. “It’s alright to be a bit crazy. At least a minute of craziness in a day keeps the doctor away.”

A33. “I thought you had left.” “I’d leave without tasting this sandwich? It would be a sign of insanity.”

A34. “The Great King/Queen/Ruler of Food is here again.”

A35. “What can I do… they just love Mr. Bunny.”

A36. “Wait, do we have a permission to do this?”

A37. “As long as that is on my wall, I swear I’m not going to sleep.”

A38. “Pillows? Pfft. Who needs pillows?”

A39. “That’s what you get for being such a dummy.”

A40. “You really need a haircut.”

A41. “You should keep that to yourself.”

A42. “Oh, how could I not say yes to that?”

A43. “Hi and bye!”

A44. “Well, what did you expect?”

A45. “Kick that door down.”

A46. “I’m not drunk!”

A47. “That’s not a stupid idea, it’s an idiotic idea.”

A48. “You’re the type of person who laughs at their own jokes.”

A49. “Oh, I didn’t know you had guests.”

A50. “Oh, are you looking for [insert name]? They’re probably setting themselves on fire right now.”

A51. “Don’t be scared.”

A52. “Did you just smile?”

A53. “Would you wanna go for a walk?”

A54. “My lights are flickering, it’s the infamous Ghost of the Living Room.”

A55. “This cookie is my spirit animal.”

A56. “Don’t be boring, dance with us!”

A57. “You should keep that candy behind locked doors. I might eat the whole bag otherwise.”

A58. “What’s your password?”

A59. “My backyard is not a waterpark.”

A60. “I think you should talk to them.”

A61. “I wish we had more time to chat.”

A62. “You’re smiling.”

A63. “Do you even know how to laugh?”

A64. “Well, it’s busted, no can do.”

A65. “I know what you think.”

A66. “At least I smell good.”

A67. “It happened a long time ago.”

A68. “What exactly should I be looking at?”

A69. “Why your shirt was in my fridge?”

A70. “Argh, don’t you guys ever use Google?”

A71. “I think you’re overreacting.”

A72. “Do you like board games?”

A73. “But it’s so cold!”

A74. “You should really learn to read some books.”

A75. “Wait, I know where your pants are.”

A76. “There’s no one there, dumbass.”

A77. “A fly has been harassing me for weeks.”

A78. “Be honest, do I have to keep this shirt?” “No?” “Dammit!”

A79. “Not my kid, not my responsibility.” “It’s a dog!” “No, it’s your kid.”

A80. “Sorry, I’ll be late.” “Why is that?” “A cat has been sleeping on me for an hour.”

A81. “I’m still bored.”

A82. “I recognize liars when I see them.”

A83. “Well, books usually have text on them.”

A84. “This is the perfect day to piss [Name] off.”

A85. “Get me their phone. Then we’ll talk.”

A86. “Because you’re so young.”

A87. “Hello, I am your servant today, what can I get you, oh Almighty?”

A88. “Why are you hiding?”

A89. “Why are we hiding?”

A90. “Why you would wanna live in a dumpster?”

A91. “It’s snowing!”

A92. “They’re late. Again.”

A93. “My bathroom smells like someone put a fish into my toilet.”

A94. “Don’t tempt me.”

A95. “You know how much I like chocolate.”

A96. “Stand back, this might get ugly.”

A97. “I can’t believe the way you got them arrested.”

A98. “Wait - did you just agree with me?”

A99. “Nah, dying would have been boring.”

A100. “Can’t you have fun for once in your life?”

LIST B - LOVE/FRIENDSHIP/COMFORT

B1. “You’re being shy with me, aren’t you…” “No I’m not!” “Yes you are!”

B2. “You make me feel free.”

B3. “You’re cute when you try not to blush.”

B4. “I might be having feelings for you, I’ve had them for a while.” “Yeah right.” “I’m serious.”

B5. “It’s true. I’ve loved you ever since I got to know you - and even if you don’t feel the same, I’m willing to accept it.”

B6. “What if I told you that there’s a surprise for you outside?”

B7. “Everything is okay now, I’m here, I’m here.”

B8. “My world was black before you came into it.”

B9. “Did you do all this… for me?”

B10. “Did you really think I’d leave without a kiss?”

B11. “I didn’t know there’s a feeling like this.”

B12. “You’re the first person who has understood me.”

B13. “I’m not the person you want in your life.” “Yes you are.”

B14. “People change. And I’m not who I was before. I’m sorry for what I did.”

B15. “Do you… maybe, want to go to grab a coffee with me sometime?”

B16. “I really like you! Uh… I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”

B17. “I know this isn’t very romantic, but…” “It’s romantic enough for me.”

B18. “I’m not like everyone else, you deserve someone better.” “There isn’t anyone better for me than you.”

B19. “What are you doing?” “Showing you how much I love you.”

B20. “Will you make me happy forever?”

B21. “I didn’t know you’re ticklish… this is going to be fun.”

B22. “Your bed could be more comfortable than me.” “Nah, I’m good.”

B23. “You guys are so cheesy it’s disgusting.” “Why, thank you!”

B24. “Can I sleep with you? I need someone by my side.”

B25. “You’re so warm…” “You’re so cold.” “Mmh, that’s why I like your warmth.”

B26. “You’re special to me.”

B27. “Are those my… aaargh gimme those back!”

B28. “I’ve been gathering my courage to talk to you for so long and now… I did it.”

B29. “It’s obvious you like them.”

B30. “Crushing hard, huh?”

B31. “This is the place we first met. And now here we are, years later.”

B32. “Awww, is this you?” “Gimme that!” “No! You’re so cute, look at those pants!”

B33. “You cleaned my house for me while I slept?”

B34. “Wait, did you just call me cute?”

B35. “You’re my only friend, but you’re also the best person in the world.”

B36. “I’ve been in love with you all this time.”

B37. “I care about you, maybe more than I should.”

B38. “Because I love you, you idiotic mufflehead!”

B39. “Honestly, I didn’t believe in strong friendships before I met you.”

B40. “Maybe that’s the reason why we’re friends. You’re as dumb as me.”

B41. “Is that a blush I see?”

B42. “Do you want to go out with me?”

B43. “We’re friends, you can tell me anything.”

B44. “You look like you need a friend.”

B45. “Ah, ah, no tickling! Or no kisses.”

B46. “I made you dinner.”

B47. “I lit up candles and everything, you deserve to relax.”

B48. “You want it, I’ll get it. Don’t try to stop me.”

B49. “You’re the only one that makes me go cheesy.”

B50. “Here, take my umbrella.”

B51. “I think I’m in love… with you.”

B52. “You bought roses for me?”

B53. “Dance with me.”

B54. “Marry me.”

B55. “Babe, we’ll travel the world together.”

B56. “I’ve talked to you once and I already know I’m going to fall in love with you.”

B57. “I heard [name] has a crush on you.”

B58. “You look amazing.”

B59. “Best friends will stand together, even through the harshest of waves.”

B60. “I’ll continue doing this until you smile.”

B61. “Can I hug you?”

B62. “I have always loved you.”

B63. “Don’t worry, you look beautiful.”

B64. “Your flirting is so bad it’s adorable.”

B65. “Do you have to get up? I was just getting comfy.”

B66. “Stooooop, you’re making me blush!”

B67. “Uh-uh, I won’t let you leave without a hug.”

B68. “I’ll be watching over you.”

B69. “I bought you chocolate.”

B70. “I dreamed about kissing you.”

B71. “You’re my best friend, and always will be.”

B72. “Am I dreaming or did you just say you like me?”

B73. “Your smile is beautiful.”

B74. “Have I ever told you how cute you are?”

B75. “I’m with you. I’m home.”

B76. “I would have never believed that one day we’d be so close.”

B77. “We’re friends, right? Friends stick together.”

B78. “I’ll always be here, whenever you need me.”

B79. “You smell nice.”

B80. “I’ve loved you since day one.”

B81. “You built a pillow fort for us?”

B82. “You saved me.”

B83. “You always manage to make me laugh.”

B84. “Thank you for being there for me.”

B85. “Why do you care?” “Because I love you!”

B86. “Do you think of me as a friend?”

B87. “I think I have feelings for them.”

B88. “I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.”

B89. “I can’t believe we’re still friends. I thought we’d grow past the fart joke part.” “What, fart jokes are the best!”

B90. “Good morning, want some breakfast?”

B91. “I’ve missed you so much.”

B92. “Are you cold? Here, take my jacket.”

B93. “I’m gonna dare you to kiss [Name].”

B94. “Oh my god, you like [Name]!”

B95. “They’re in love with you.” “Oh shut it.” “I wish you noticed how they look at you.”

B96. “Breakfast in bed? You’re spoiling me.”

B97. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

B98. “Nobody is perfect. That’s what makes you special.”

B99. “I want you to be happy. You’re worth it.”

B100. “I don’t know how, but you always make me feel happy.”

LIST C - ANGST/ANGRY

C1. “I don’t want to feel anything anymore.”

C2. “I was there… and I didn’t do anything. I’m never forgiving myself for that.”

C3. “It’s none of your business.” “It’s my business if you cry because of me.”

C4. “Let go.” “I can’t.”

C5. “Leave. I don’t want you here.”

C6. “I never loved you.”

C7. “You were never there for me.”

C8. “You did that choice. Not me. You’re in this alone.”

C9. “You left me!”

C10. “It’s time you got to know how it feels to be betrayed.”

C11. “You appreciate some people only after they’re gone.”

C12. “I was willing to stay here with you until the end, but it was you who told me to stay away.”

C13. “No, you don’t have the right to come back to me and pretend that everything is okay again!”

C14. “You disgust me.”

C15. “Fine. If this is how it’s gonna be, then fine. I’m leaving you.”

C16. “They’re not coming back.”

C17. “I failed you. I failed everyone.”

C18. “You’re not worth it.”

C19. “How dare you stand there and tell me you still love me?”

C20. “I was an idiot to ever trust you.”

C21. “I can’t move on, and I don’t want to.”

C22. “I’m disgusted with myself that I once thought of you as my friend.”

C23. “They were my everything, and now they’re gone.”

C24.  “It was you who broke our promise.”

C25.  “You’re my friend.” “I have better friends than you ever were.”

C26.  “I honestly want to set you on fire right now.”

C27.  “There’s no one else to blame anymore, you made sure of it. It’s all on you now.”

C28. “I feel like there’s nothing waiting for me anymore.”

C29. “Tell me I’m wrong. Just say it.”

C30. “I love you, but I wish I didn’t.”

C31. “I hope you grow up one day. But I’m not going to be there to see it.”

C32. “What if I’m in too many pieces now to fix myself again?”

C33. “And here I thought that you’d keep your promises for once.”

C34. “Goodbye. Don’t come back.”

C35. “If this is love, I don’t want it.”

C36. “No one never stays, no one ever cares about me.”

C37. “Please, make it stop...”

C38. “It just feels like I can never let go... even if I try.”

C39. “I love them too much. And that always makes me go tumbling down the hill.”

C40. “I can’t do this anymore.”

C41. “Fuck you! Get out of my house!”

C42. “You’re not welcome here.”

C43. “Don’t expect me to fix things you broke.”

C44. “You always lie to me.”

C45. “Could you try stopping thinking like a machine and listen with your heart?”

C46. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone, but with you? I hope life will be torn apart on you.”

C47. “I wish you nothing but pain.”

C48. “I can’t take this any longer.”

C49. “You were my best friend, and you let me down.”

C50. “Forgive you? How could I ever forgive you for what you did?”

C51. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!”

C52. “I can’t feel the pulse.”

C53. “I can’t believe how I ever was a friend of such a toxic person.”

C54. “Everything reminds me about them. I just want to forget them, wipe them out from my life.”

C55. “I’ll be happy once you’re gone.”

C56. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears.”

C57. “You’re wrong, I have never loved you.”

C58. “Go to hell!”

C59. “I want you gone. Now.”

C60. “Oh, now my opinion matters? I wish we had never met!”

C61. “I’ll always hate you.”

C62. “You broke the promise. Again.”

C63. “I’d punch you if you were worth it.”

C64. “Nothing has changed in you, even when I wanted to believe so.”

C65. “Let go of me!”

C66. “Don’t touch me, you filthy scum!”

C67. “You did a bad thing for a good reason.” “But is it worth it if they died because of me?”

C68. “We’d/We’ll never get our happy ending.”

C69. “You’re never changing, are you? Always a dickhead.”

C70. “You’d never understand.”

C71. “I’m dying.”

C72. “I loved you years ago. But that feeling is long gone.”

C73. “I’m happier without you.”

C74. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, how do you expect me to love you?”

C75. “You abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

C76. “Do you think you could just magically waltz back into my life after everything you did?”

C77. “I waited for you for years before I finally found someone who won’t abandon me like you did, and now you come back and think we could be together again?”

C78. “There won’t be “us” anymore.”

C79. “You’ve lied to me all this time.”

C80. “I’m a monster.”

C81. “You’re a monster.”

C82. “Don’t hurt me!”

C83. “I’m leaving you.”

C84. “Please don’t go.”

C85. “I’ll never forgive you.”

C86. “No no no no, stay awake! Please!”

C87. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

C88. “Walk away and don’t come back, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

C89. “We need to get to the hospital!”

C90. “I know you hate me.”

C91. “Oh, so that’s what you think of me?”

C92. “I’m going to sleep on couch tonight.”

C93. “It’s my fault they’re dead.”

C94. “Don’t give me that bullshit, I know what happened!”

C95. “Give me one reason why we should still be together.”

C96. “If you had ever loved me, you wouldn’t have put everything else above me.”

C97. “You said you’d support me with this, but here we are.”

C98. “Why are you even here anymore? Just leave!”

C99. “I’ll be forgotten.”

C100. “Death doesn’t let you say goodbye.”

#prompts #prompt list #angst prompts #fluff prompts #fluffy prompts #general prompts

[lacharcutiere]

i’ll take u to the coffee shop

words: 2.3k

atsumu miya x fem!reader, feat. suna rintarō & kita shinsuke // sfw, fluff & coffee shop au obvs

ahaha the title is a play on 50 cent’s candy shop, get it ???

a/n: this was supposed to be hcs. or a drabble. but it ran really long (& also barely took me any time to write???) so here we are. enjoy @nkhachuuya​ <3

general masterlist // haikyū!! masterlist

· i ·

there’s this adorable, tiny little café a block away from your apartment, and you take pride in being one of their few regulars—it’s kind of niche, undiscovered, and a wonderful place to study. it’s got a single bar against the wall opposite the counter, and you’re almost always the only one there. it’s not that business is bad; it’s just that it sits right next to an office complex, and most of its other regulars don’t have much more time than it takes to pick up a coffee and a croissant and leave. so you’ve almost always got the place to yourself. and by now, you’re familiar with most of its employees.

the weather is kind of disgusting this morning: there’s a light rain, and it’s chilly but not cold enough for snow, and it’s a little too windy for an umbrella to be anything other than an inconvenience.

your head is dipped, your bag is tucked tightly under your trench coat, your hair is damp when you walk in. and there’s a new barista, one you’ve never seen before—tall, hair bleached blond, big brown eyes, and... not unattractive. he must be new, you think.

as it normally is at this hour, the café is otherwise empty. his elbows are leaned on the counter and he’s on his phone, and the jingle of the bell on the door seems to startle him; he jumps when you walk in. you hide a laugh, but badly.

he snorts. “what a way to start my morning.”

“what?”

“embarrassing myself in front of a pretty girl like you?” he says, shoving his phone in his pocket. before you can get a chance to respond, he continues, “what can i getcha?”

“uhm,” you say.

he grins. “yeah?”

“large, uh, caffè vanilla. with, uh, extra sugar ‘nd almond milk. for here.”

“you got it, pretty girl,” he says, and turns to grab a cup and get the milk out of the fridge.

“you’re not gonna ask me to pay?”

“oh, shit. um, yeah. four seventy-seven, you can insert your card whenever you’re ready.” while you give the chip reader a second to process it, he looks up at you, running a hand through his hair. “two for two?”

you laugh as you return your card to your wallet. “i haven’t seen you before, ‘s it your first day?”

“nah,” he answers as he returns to measuring out the milk for your coffee, “but i was supposed to. i started the other night. suna—you know him?— yeah, he had me fill in for him.” he pauses briefly, turns back to you. “i take it you come here a lot?”

“yeah,” you nod, and then add jokingly, “so you’ll definitely be seeing more of me.”

his face lights up at that. “yeah?”

“mhm.”

“huh,” he laughs, “well, i could get used to having you around.”

it’s awkwardly quiet as he finishes pouring the drink into a mug for you and you walk over to set your things down on a chair. when he calls you back over and hands it to you, he says, “i’m atsumu, by the way. in case i’m ever not here and you wanna ask when my next shift is.”

you laugh and introduce yourself back.

“‘s pretty.” he smiles. “it suits you.”

and you take your drink and have a seat, your back to him as you fish your laptop and a book out of your bag. you can feel his eyes on you almost the entire time you’re there, though—and you don’t hate it.

he speaks to you once more when you’re heading out the door, calling out your name and handing you scrap of an old receipt with a phone number written on the back, which you can only assume is his.

“can i take you out sometime?” he asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“i don’t even know you,” you say, to which he responds:

“sure you do. i’m atsumu.”

“right.” and you give him one last smile and leave.

you don’t text him.

· ii ·

atsumu isn’t working when you come in the next afternoon—instead, you’re greeted by kita, who says to you as he makes your usual: “he was here this morning.”

“huh?”

“atsumu. he told me to tell you.”

“oh,” you say, and try to hold back a smile as you wonder why that bit of information has just about made your day.

“he works thursday morning, if you wanna come by then.” as kind of an afterthought, he laughs and adds, “i think he’d like that.”

“oh, please,” you respond sarcastically.

· v ·

but then it’s thursday morning, eight forty-six a.m., and you’re on your way to the café.

when you get there, he’s not even behind the counter—instead, he’s sitting in one of the barstools, his feet kicked up on the table.

“you’re gonna get fired,” you greet him.

“hey,” he responds with a grin.

“hi. i’ve got an order, if you wanna take it.”

“yeah, yeah, of course.” as he rushes back to where he’s supposed to be, he says, “i’ve got another thing i wanna take.”

you give him an eye roll.

“you. on a date.”

“that wasn’t as smooth as you think. large caffè vanilla with extra sugar and almond milk, please.”

“for here.”

“i was gonna take it to go this time, actually.”

“that wasn’t a question.”

“atsumu—”

“i’m making it for here.” he smiles, and turns to the fridge.

“i haven’t paid,” you point out to him, but this time he doesn’t stop.

“on the house,” he says. “i’ve got a new policy for hot girls: in house, on the house.”

“you’ve been working here for like, a week.”

“so?”

“so i don’t think you get to have policies.” the last word is in air quotes for further emphasis, but it doesn’t matter since his back is to you.

when he hands your drink to you, he says again, “date?”

and you say, “no,” with a smile and another eye roll.

you make sure to leave while he’s taking care of another customer.

· vi ·

you come by in the morning again, and atsumu’s working. there’re a couple people in line ahead of you, graciously saving you from the greater part of his antics.

you don’t think you mind them, though.

and when he winks at you and says, “here ya go, pretty girl,” as he hands you your drink—to go, this time—your gaze snaps to the floor, hoping he won’t see the flush in your cheeks.

· ix ·

you have class early monday morning, but find yourself craving a danish after lunch, so you stop by the café on your way home.

“hey suna,” you greet him as you walk in, and he gives you a nod back.

“usual?”

“not today,” you say, “just a danish. cream cheese,” and pull your card out of your wallet.

“so.” he grabs one out of the fridge and sticks it in the toaster for you. “i hear you’ve taken a liking to atsumu?”

your eyes go wide. “huh? no way. other way around.”

suna shrugs. “‘s just what he said. i wouldn’t go for it if i were you, though. he’s kinda... i dunno. doesn’t take most things seriously, y’know?”

“yeah,” you say, as he slips the danish into a paper baggie and hands it to you. “yeah, i figured.”

· xi ·

atsumu knows your order.

it’s only the third time that you’ve come in when he’s working, and he knows your order.

he asks you on a date again, too, and you turn him down again. this time, it’s less because you don’t know him and more because what suna told you is echoing in your head.

and you’re not gonna lie, you wish you hadn’t heard it.

· xv ·

he always works mornings, you find out, unless he’s covering someone else’s shift.

“i kinda hate it,” he says, and continues with a smirk, “but not when you come in.”

“okay, atsumu.”

“date?”

“no.”

· xxi ·

and so that becomes your routine. when you do stop in, you try to make it a point come by the café in the morning.

you’re there more mornings than you’d like to admit.

atsumu doesn’t have to know—you’ve been a regular since before he started working there. he doesn’t need to know how much more frequently you visit now.

it’s your new routine: stop by before class. atsumu recites your order, large caffè vanilla, extra sugar, almond milk, before you can. sometimes it’s for here, sometimes you get it to go. “four seventy-seven,” he’ll say, and he’ll ask you on a date as you wait for the chip reader to process your payment. you always turn him down. and he never seems down about it—suna was probably right.

· xxxiv ·

and then, one day, atsumu doesn’t ask.

everything else is the same; he meets you with the same bright, mischievous grin, he still gets your order ready without you even having to say what you want. still tries to convince you to have it in house.

but he doesn’t ask you out.

you don’t mention it at all, and get him to put your drink in a to-go cup after some brief back-and-forth.

as you walk home, though, you can’t help but to feel kind of disappointed. is he taken? was he ever actually interested?

all this time you’d been trying to convince yourself that suna’s words didn’t apply to you. you were going to say yes. you were. but now it really seems like you were no exception, and as much as you don’t want to belive that, it’s hard not to when the proof seems so plainly laid out in front of you.

· xxxvii ·

it’s that strange kind of hurt that’s easily bearable, but that eats away at your thoughts with each passing day that you don’t get an answer.

you still stop by the café in the mornings, when he’s working. you do your best to hide whatever strange thing it is you’re feeling. he doesn’t seem to be any different than when you first met him, more than a month ago now.

well, aside from that he doesn’t ask you out every time he sees you anymore. but you’re gonna just try to ignore that.

· xl ·

apparently, there’s a first time for everything: you have never run into atsumu outside that café before. but then today, you’re heading home from the on-campus library after some late-evening studying, and you see a familiar blond-headed figure leaving the gym.

it seems he sees you too, in the yellowy glow of the lamps lining the walkways, and he waves and jogs over to you.

“what’re you doing out so late?” he asks when he reaches you.

“i could ask you the same thing.”

“i just got done with practice,” he says, and you notice that his hair is, in fact, still damp from the shower. “you?”

“writing papers.”

“gross.”

“ha, yeah.”

and then he stops, and he looks at you for a bit. you fight the urge to turn away.

“it’s kind of late.” that, it is. “do you, uh, want me to walk you home?”

“no, no, ’s fine,” you say, too quickly.

“no,” he responds, “i’m walking you home. don’t want you to get, like, kidnapped or anything, ya know?”

he’s right. you hate that he’s right, but yes, walking the five city blocks back to your apartment alone after dark is kind of terrifying.

so you thank him, and you let him walk with you.

he’s talkative, at least, so you never end up having to ask the burning questions that have been at the back of your mind for a few days now. except, you want to know the answer.

so you figure, i’ll ask him when i get home, and then too soon, you’re home.

“this is it,” you tell him.

“alright.” he doesn’t move.

silence.

and then you both start at the same time:

“you—”

“why—”

he laughs. you laugh too, nervously.

“you first. ladies first.”

“uhm.” just say it. “why’d... why’d you stop asking me on dates?”

and he doesn’t say anything for a moment. you watch his eyes go wide.

“what?”

“what?”

and he laughs again. “i was gonna— you never texted me.”

“huh?”

“i— you— i gave you my number, remember?” he pauses. “but enough of that, what?”

your face heats up. you’re glad it’s dark. “you stopped asking me out,” you whisper.

“yeah.”

you look at the ground. the next words are barely audible; just breath. they’re not even for him; they’re for yourself. “—was gonna say yes.”

“what?”

but he heard you, and next thing you know, his arms are wrapping around your shoulders and you inhale sharply, shocked.

“atsumu?” you breathe.

“you were?”

you nod into his shoulder, and then he pulls away. you want to pull him back to you, but you don’t.

“why did you stop asking?”

“well,” he says. “after, like, a month i figured i didn’t have a shot.”

“oh my god, i thought you had a girlfriend or something.”

“no, i—”

that’s it, that’s it. all your patience is gone; it’s not needed anymore. you don’t even let him finish before taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his.

he melts into it almost immediately, bringing his hands to your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. he’s warm, very warm, and you almost forget it’s november.

impulses spurred on by this new thing, you invite him back up to your apartment.

and it’s funny, he points out from his place on the couch, how this time, you’re the one who makes him a cup of coffee.

he likes his with extra sugar, too.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #suna rintarō #kita shinsuke #inarizaki #inarizaki boys #coffee shop au #fluff #sfw #college au #i did not mean for this to be so long #this was just gonna be hcs #but whatever #i like how it turned out :) #i hope you can read roman numerals #kt's requests #(kinda) #anyway now its time to do my math ia #pray for me #pray for marg #mara's archive

[strawberriestyles]

Watermelon Sugar (High)

Your relationship with Harry is fairly new, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t use a little extra flavor.

Word count: 4.3k

Author’s note: Here’s my piece for @hsogolden‘s Fine Line Fic Challenge!! I had this idea almost immediately after I heard the song for the first time and then Brianne posted the challenge and it just worked out SO perfectly.  I know it’s been quite some time since I’ve posted a one shot. I hope y’all like this. Please, forgive me and let me know what you think!! Xx

For the first time this year, snow has begun to blanket the ground. It’s pretty as it falls, but it’s turned into slush on the roads and the cold has frozen patches of slick ice at the edges of intersections. Instead of the typical twenty minutes it takes you to get home from work, you were on the streets for nearly an hour, narrowly avoiding collisions.

The heat of your apartment is a relief as you rush through the doorway, a package clutched in your arms, toeing off your boots at the edge of the rug. Already, it’s grown dark outside, and the front hall is unnavigable without any lights on. You stumble over a discarded bag as you flip a switch with your elbow. With this newfound light, you dump your things on the bench directly across from the front door and carry the box you found outside, addressed to you, down the hall and into the kitchen.

You reach into the kitchen drawer beside the sink and pull out a pair of scissors, using one of the blades to slice into the tape running the length of the box. Then you drop the shears on the counter and peel back the cardboard flaps. There are layers of baby pink tissue paper cushioning the contents of the package and it crinkles between your fingers as you dig beneath it.

If anyone else was around, you would have to hide your face. There, at the bottom of the box, wrapped in transparent plastic, are three pairs of sheer panties, a glittery black mesh bra, and a lingerie set complete with garters and clips and elastic straps. You’d forgotten about the order you placed nearly two months ago at a party your friend threw. You hadn’t even been inclined to purchase anything, but the pressure you felt to support the hostess had forced you to cave.

You set the plastic-wrapped garments on the counter and drop the box onto the kitchen floor, but something rattles around in its depths. Tissue paper tears as you squat down to slide your hand along the bottom cardboard panel. A smaller, glossy box is hiding in the corner. When you pull it from beneath the tissue paper, it looks like the packaging for a tube of lipstick. The box is hot pink, almost red, with bright green script that reads High, and in smaller letters above the word, Watermelon Sugar.

It takes a few flips of the box for you to realize that it’s a lubricant. You are completely sure that you did not order this. So sure that you’re ready to toss it in the trash or send it right back to the return address. You have the box hanging over the garbage before you remember.

A free sample. The consultant has said something about receiving a free sample when you spent a certain amount. But this? A fruit-flavored lube? You’re not sure about this.

After a moment of hesitation, you close the trash can and begin to peel back the tiny cardboard flaps at one end of the box. You pull out a clear plastic tube filled with pink gel, a pump on one end. Silver lettering sparkles in the kitchen light.

What are you to do with this?

Physically, of course, you understand its purpose. But the idea of it makes your skin hot, even with the chilling press of winter upon your apartment’s windows. After all, your relationship is new and fresh. It’s too early for this.

Harry.

The thought jolts you from your train of consciousness. He’s supposed to be coming over for takeout and a movie tonight. When you glance at the clock and see that it’s already past the time you agreed upon, you tense. Perhaps he’s been slowed by the slick roads the same way you were.

Then there’s a soft knock upon the door. You hear it sliding across the rug in the entryway and Harry’s, “Hey, love! ‘S me.”

You panic as the door closes. Harry is stamping snow off of his boots. You rush back across the kitchen and begin stuffing plastic-wrapped underwear back into the box on the floor, covering it in shreds of pink tissue paper, burying your bottle of watermelon-flavored lube at the bottom.

“Whatcha got there?” Harry asks as he rounds the corner from the hallway.

Your back is turned to him and your fingers fumble with the flaps of the box as you shut it. Air spills from your lips in relief.

“It’s—um—a Christmas present,” you rush, spinning around with the box propped in the crooks of your elbows.

Harry peers at you from beneath locks of snow-dampened hair. There are still clumps of ice stuck to the ends by one temple. He has his hands tucked into the front pocket of his green hoodie and his toes wiggle against the floorboards from within thick woolen socks. You’re sure you look frazzled by comparison.

“For me?” he ponders, eyes lighting up as his face stretches into a delighted grin. “Can I take a peek?”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s then, when you’ve reeled in your utter panic and allowed your gaze to drift across the kitchen, that you find your mistake. The lubricant package—bright pink and glossy and obnoxious—is still standing on the countertop above the trash. Light glares off of its surface. You try to keep your demeanor as calm as possible.

“Just one little look? Like, one second. An’ then yeh can cover my eyes.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yeh’re sure?”

You’re creeping sideways across the kitchen, your eyes now trained on Harry, with his alarmingly mischievous smirk. He’s following you and his strides are larger than yours, even if you weren’t shuffling.

“Please, just—”

“Because I don’ like surprises, love.”

You’re there, sliding the larger box into a single arm and reaching behind you blindly with the other hand. But Harry is right in front of you, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your hairline, his hand snaking over the countertop. You spit out a sharp protest, but he has the lubricant package balanced between his fingers and he’s already across the kitchen, leaning against the sink, tilting the box to read it in the sparse light.

“Watermelon sugar?”

Your skin feels hot and clammy and your feet have been glued to the floorboards. There’s a furrow in his brow as his eyes scan the text, and then you watch as his expression shifts, as his eyes widen ever so slightly, as his jaw ticks.

“It’s not a Christmas present,” you mutter, dry-throated. “It’s a sample. It came with an order.”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you and then back to the pink box. His thumb traces the embossed words along its surface.

“What did yeh order, then?”

If you could be swallowed up by the earth, this would be the moment for it. You did not order any of the items you’re holding for Harry, or even with Harry in mind. You had only been on a single date with him at that point, and not a very promising one. He’d spilled red wine all over your new sweater and scratched the corner of your car trying to back out of your apartment complex’s parking lot. It’s incredible to see how your dynamic has shifted. But your sex life is even newer than your relationship.

You clear your throat and press your lips together. “Uh, just underwear.”

Harry finally looks at you, and his face seems brighter, though there’s not even a hint of a smile playing at his mouth. “‘S in there?”

You nod faintly, and he tosses the carton he’s holding across the counter, where it tumbles to a stop beside the stove.

“Let’s see.”

“Harry...” Your arms tighten instinctually around the box.

“I mean, yeh don’ have to, of course. But I’d love if yeh showed me.”

“Just quick?”

His smirk finally returns, though his eyes have darkened and his hands have curled themselves around the edge of the sink. The light above the window casts his face in shadowed shapes.

“Would prefer if I could see ‘em on yeh.”

“And if I don’t wanna put them on?”

“Fair enough.” He studies your face and then frowns. “Am I pushin’ yeh? Don’ mean to.”

“No, no.” Your teeth dig into your bottom lip with bruising force. “I just—” Your eyes fall, dancing around his gaze.

“If yeh’re not comfortable with it, tha’s fine, love.” Harry pads across the space between you. He looks down at the box you’re still holding and nods toward the countertop, prompting you to set it down. Then one of his palms is curved around your jaw and his nose is bumping yours. What little air you had to breathe is stolen by him.

“Should let yeh know, though,” he continues, thumb stroking your cheek where your skin burns against his touch, “that ‘m already half-hard.”

You’re still in your thick coat and the heat of your body is trapped, broiling you until you feel that your flesh might peel right off the bone. Harry must be able to feel it because his fingers tickle down your neck until he can pull at your buttons. His face withdraws from yours and you’re chasing it, the terrible proximity of his lips. He chuckles.

“If yeh don’ wanna put the panties on, no problem.”

You’re reaching for him again and this time he relents, fitting his mouth to yours while he tugs your jacket down your arms. There’s still a fresh humming in your veins whenever he kisses you, as if it’s the first time. The thought of him wanting this as much as you do leaves you pumping with adrenaline.

“We’re tryin’ out that watermelon stuff, though,” he mutters against your tingling lips. His fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt, curling against your hips. “So we’ll just get yeh completely naked, yeah? No underwear involved.”

In another moment, your shirt lies on the floor with your coat and your pants are halfway down your thighs. The warmth you felt within the confines of your clothes evaporates as if it were never there. Harry lifts you up onto the edge of the counter, sponging wet kisses along your chest, wiggling your pants over the bend of your knees. Your hands slip under the back of his hoodie and he flinches when your cold fingertips meet his spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Harry reaches back to tug his hoodie over his head, mussing his hair and riding up the shirt he has on underneath. He scoffs at your apology and allows you to peel his t-shirt off.

“‘S okay. I’ll warm yeh right up.”

His words ring true as he takes your hands in his, twining your fingers together, and closes his lips around your collarbone. His hot breath unfurls against your skin and leaves you shuddering. Your knuckles knock against the countertop.

“Better?” he murmurs against the base of your throat before sliding his mouth up along the underside of your jaw. His lips find yours again and his tongue flicks at the careless part of them.

“Yes,” you manage to muster. And you are warmer. The blood surging through your body might as well be some molten metal, liquid silver sloshing around your insides.

“Get this off then, yeah?” His fingers slip from yours and deftly unclip your bra. The straps fall down your arms and Harry lets it tumble to his feet, his attention focused solely on the way your nipples have already begun to pebble against the chill air. “Look so pretty.”

You let out a labored breath as he traces one of your nipples with his tongue. Your fingers catch in the loose curls at the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. The sound of his lips popping from your skin distracts you from his hands, wiggling your panties beneath your bottom, dropping them to the floor to rest beside your discarded bra.

“Wanna get it out for me, love?” he mutters against your chest, teeth grazing the curve of one breast and leaving chills in their wake.

“What?” you breathe.

“The lube, baby. Where’s the lube?” He lifts his eyes so he can gaze up at you, peppering just a few more kisses to your chest. You don’t notice him pulling the chunky rings off his fingers until you hear them clinking together into the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh.” Your hands are clumsy as you open up the box beside you, rifling through the tissue paper to find the little plastic bottle. Harry’s palms trail up your thighs and you shiver so violently that you fumble the bottle twice before you’re able to extract it from the wrappings.

“Thank you.” He takes the bottle from your hand and pops the cap off the pump, tossing it noisily across the counter. He squirts a generous amount of glimmering pink, translucent gel onto the fingers of his right hand, where the prints of his rings still glow just above his knuckles. His thumb spreads the gel along his digits and he rubs it back and forth to warm it against his skin.

“Yeh ready?” he asks, crooking your knee up with his clean hand and leaning forward to sponge kisses up the inside of your thigh. For a moment you forget that his question requires a response. You forget that you require breaths.

“Love,” he prompts, pausing at the middle of your thigh and settling his cheek against your skin. You can hear the lubricant as it shifts between his fingers. His eyes find yours.

“Yes,” you answer finally. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Harry hums. He turns to press a final kiss to your leg and then straightens up. With a gentle bump of his nose to yours, he slides his middle finger inside you. Even despite his effort to warm it, the lube isn’t nearly up to temperature. Your fingers clamp onto his shoulder, legs twitching at the chill of his touch, body tensing.

“‘M sorry, baby,” Harry mutters, pecking your chin. “Christ, yeh’re fuckin’ warm.” His other hand kneads at your propped up thigh as he begins to pump his finger into you. The sound it makes brings an uncomfortable heat to your face, but Harry only sighs into your burning cheek. Your eyes are drawn to the shift of his forearm, the rippling of the corded muscles just beneath his skin, under his eagle tattoo.

“I want another,” you whisper into his ear. You can smell his freshly washed hair, sweet and fruity beneath the sharp musk of his cologne. The hand you’ve been using to support yourself on the countertop combs through his soft curls and then folds them between your fingers.

Harry grunts, nipping at the skin just behind your jaw, just under your ear. He wiggles a second finger past your entrance and this time the cold is less of a shock. Instead, you’re dazed by the way he separates the two fingers apart, spreading you open, and then tips them up toward your belly. You release a staggered moan and lick at the dry flesh of your parted lips. It's as if he’s watched your tongue move. Harry draws back from your neck and finds your mouth, continuing to push his fingers into you while he kisses you until your lips are tingling and swollen and feel as though they could never be dry again.

By the time Harry slides a third finger into you, the countertop has become slick. You cling to him and your breath hitches when he stretches you open again, rubbing his thumb over your clit. A curse slips out under your breath. The smug look Harry gives you is almost too much.

“Gonna let me get a taste, then?” he asks, pressing his hand against your hip to keep you from creeping toward the edge of the counter. “’S flavored, yeah? Meant to be eaten. Want me to taste it?"

You open your mouth to answer and choke on the words. Harry’s fingers are buried to the hilts, his palm flat against your clit, a cocky lilt to his mouth. “Sorry, love. Didn’ catch that."

You want to push him away, but your hands tug at him in spite of his teasing. You resort to a vexed nod. Harry wastes no time. He draws his fingers free, leaving you achingly empty, dripping lubricant, and sinks to his knees.

His movements displace air and you catch the faint, tart scent of fruit, like flavored candy. It makes your mouth water but you barely have time to process it before Harry’s sticky hand finds the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he’s pressing his lips to the skin just above your pubic bone.

There’s no teasing like you suspected. You wait for another wandering kiss and instead you feel Harry’s tongue dip between your folds, licking up the uncomfortable wetness that’s begun to collect there. His nose flattens against your skin.

“Oh, fuck,” you stutter out when he moans, lip vibrating against your clit. Your hands clamp onto the edge of the counter, the pressure biting your fingers.

Harry’s clean hand loops around to the bottom of your spine, yanking you forward until you’re dangling precariously, held in place by nothing but his face and his shoulders, digging into your legs. You gasp and then choke on air when he gives your clit a rough pull.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs when he separates for a breath. Your hazy eyes lower to look at him, and in the dim light from above the sink you find his mouth glimmering and wet. “Could lick yeh clean an’ still want more.”

You let out a weak, whimpering huff of acknowledgement, but he’s burying his tongue deep in your pussy before you’ve even finished. One of your hands stumbles across the counter to find a point of balance behind you and the other grasps at the topmost tendrils of Harry’s curls, knuckles knocking against his scalp. As if you could be wetter, you feel his spit dribbling down to pool underneath you while he licks and sucks and bites at you, obscene sounds echoing through the empty rooms of your flat.

The next moan you let out is so broken that if anyone heard it without context they wouldn’t be able to place it, or to even confidently state that the sound was made by a person. Harry slurps at you, ravenous still, his eyes screwed shut and a focused crease set deep between his brows. The palm you’re using for support is slick with sweat and when it starts to slip, the tug you give his hair releases a heavy grunt from his full mouth. He shifts beneath you, lubed fingers peeling from your thigh and pressing against your abdomen. When you can decipher his movements and realize that he’s pressing himself up against the cabinets, hips rutting in a disjointed, desperate pattern, you come so hard you nearly tumble right off the counter.

Harry is on his feet to catch you, tipping you onto your back and shimmying his mouth back between your legs to work you through your high. Your nails bite into his shoulder blades, belly convulsing until you’re spent. You push defeatedly at his head until he relents with a final kiss to your sensitive clit.

“So fuckin’ good,” Harry hums as he laces his clean fingers with yours. Your chest heaves and your head tips to the side. He kisses your tummy, just under the end of your ribcage. “Wanna fuck yeh but I’d never last, love. ‘M sorry.”

You shake your head, dazed, squeezing his hand. You don’t think you’d be able to handle it, anyway, and from the way he was grinding against your kitchen cabinets, you’re sure he’s right.

“Yeh wanna taste it, baby?” Harry asks. "So sweet.” He taps your mouth with a fingertip so sticky it pulls at your skin. You part your lips, still vibrating with the effects of your orgasm, and he dips his middle finger past them, the same finger he began this mess with. As much as you’ve been smelling candy, this tastes like a bowl of fresh fruit, like citrus and strawberries and a thick slice of juicy watermelon, and you understand Harry’s greedy tongue at once. It’s like a frozen smoothie in the suffocating heat of the tropics. You lick from his knuckle to his fingertip and then suck on the digit until your mouth is full of the sugared taste.

Harry groans. “So fuckin’ sexy, yeh know that?” He kisses the valley between your breasts, and his chin still feels sticky.

“Wanna taste it on you,” you mumble around his finger. He pulls it from your mouth and blinks up at you.

“What?”

A fresh wave of heat washes over your skin, but you nod, lifting yourself up onto an elbow. “Let me lick it off you, Harry.”

His head drops forward, suddenly too heavy for his neck, and he’s pulling you off the countertop, gathering you in his arms to press a feverish kiss to your lips. You crumple to your knees when he lets you go, ripping open the button of his jeans and tugging them over his ass, followed by his briefs. He stumbles out of both and then kicks them onto your pile of clothing.

Harry’s cock is hard and bright red and leaking. You straighten up and run your thumb along the side of it, the slightest touch, but Harry huffs in blissful relief. He forgets about the lubricant for a long moment before he tastes its ghost on his lips. His hand creeps across the counter for the bottle.

“Let me,” you whisper, holding out an expectant hand. Harry drops the bottle into your palm and you pour out three pumps, rubbing it between your fingers to give him the same courtesy he gave to you.

When you set the bottle to the side and wrap your coated hand around Harry’s length, air hisses between his teeth. You smell nothing but summer and sweetness, and your thumb has barely swiped over the tip of him before your tongue follows. And this taste is somehow better, fruit mixed with the salty flavor of him. Your lips close around him and you press forward until he reaches the back of your mouth.

Harry moans, deep and gravelly, and his closest hand grips the edge of the counter the same way yours did just a few minutes ago. His chin falls to his chest. “Taste good, baby?” he asks brokenly. “Yeh like it?”

You hum around him and he gasps, balling his free hand up into a tight fist. “No, no,” he protests. “No, just use your words for me. Tell me.”

You slide off of him grudgingly and lick at your lips, glancing up into his flushed face, his hooded eyes. “Tastes so good,” you confirm, placing your hand on the front of his thigh over the tattoo of a roaring tiger.

“Wanted to hide it from me,” he says. “Aren’ yeh glad I saw it?”

You nod and pump your hand up and down his cock, coating the area you’ve already sucked clean. Harry gulps and lets you wrap your lips back around him. This time, you take as much of him as you can handle and then begin to bob your head, letting the flavored gel glaze your tongue and fill your mouth, twisting your fist around the base of him.

“Shit,” Harry wheezes. His thumb catches on your cheek as he strokes your skin. The girth of him makes your jaw ache, but his gentle touch somehow soothes you. “Oh, fuck, yeh make me feel so fuckin’ good,” he praises. And that’s enough for you to take another extra bit of him into your mouth, even though it brings you close to gagging.

Harry chants a string of expletives when your bobbing hastens and your fist tightens around him in a quick squeeze. You’ve licked almost his entire dick clean. You remove your fingers in an effort to swallow even more of him, steadying yourself by gripping onto both of his sides.

Harry’s hand clamps around a fistful of your hair and you can feel strands sticking to his fingers, adhering to his skin. Your scalp bites as he pulls you even farther up his cock. He whimpers at the way your tongue presses at the underside of him and the sound you make as you struggle to breathe air through your nose. And then a desperate moan, almost a cry, rips from him as he finds release, lurching forward and filling your throat. You can see the muscles in his stomach spasming. Your fingers curl into his hips and your eyes tear up but you let him finish, thrusting shallowly but frantically until he’s emptied himself onto your tongue.

You suckle at the tip of his sensitive cock as he pulls out from your mouth and releases your hair. A stray tear drips down your cheek and you cough, come dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin.

“Fuck, sorry,” Harry rushes, panting above you. “‘M so sorry.”

You shake your head quickly and catch the liquid leaking from your lips with your sticky fingers and sucking it from your fingers. Harry sighs weakly above you as he watches. When you look up, you find his chest red and splotchy, his cheeks high with color.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, and you’re almost embarrassed at the feebleness of your voice.

Harry crouches down in front of you and brings your mouth to his. You’re a messy tangle of lips and tongues and hair, sticky fingers and liquids. He huffs a sickly sweet breath across your chin and gives you one more brief kiss before he pulls away. His eyes wander across the kitchen, from the sole light above the sink to the scattered clothes to the shining, filthy counter, to the bottle laying beside your knee. He smirks. There’s got to be less than a couple pumps of gel left.

“Think we’re gonna need to make another order, yeah?" 

#FineLineFicChallenge #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble

[nameless-shrimp]

BLOODLUST [PART 2] || SATORU GOJO

A continuation from this one-shot.

Pairing: Vampire!Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Type: One-Shot (may turn into a fic, idk)

Warnings: Mentions of blood/murder, swearing, and slight mentions of sexual themes.

Notes: This is probably really bad, lol, I'm tired.

Dead bodies weren’t supposed to be heavy, but this one in particular was, and Satoru was managing his way through the alleyway as he dragged the corpse in one hand and twirled the hand knife he had in the other one.

He was thankful that he kept his Infinity on at this time. Satoru was frustrated at himself for letting blood get on his clothes last time. However, he was tired of the fact that he had an endless lecture from Yaga about his blood intake and that was why Satoru lost control of his vampiric techniques, which was rare, though. Satoru was well-mannered—to a certain extent, at least—and he knew how to keep his vampiric techniques in control, he always had.

But what one weakness Satoru had was his stubbornness and his refusal to drink human blood. Occasionally, he’d drink it, but he wasn’t trying to drink it like it was a fine wine at a restaurant. And with one sigh, looking up at the sky as he clutched onto the dirtied shirt of the corpse below him, he knew that he needed to drink some blood soon.

Satoru glanced down at his black watch on his wrist, sunglasses nearly slipping off the bridge of his nose. He checked the time and it had only been a few minutes since he last met with the recent vampire he had just killed.

(It didn’t take long for one deathful stare from Satoru’s eyes for the vampire to be twisted into unbearable knots, though).

It was exactly two in the morning, he noted.

“For a bastard that just turned, you’re fucking heavy,” Satoru commented, looking at the disfigured corpse in his hands. He knew there had only been a few more steps to go, but Satoru knew that the job was too messy.

Nanami always scolded him for this, too. No matter what mission either he or Nanami were assigned to, Satoru would have to make sure to clean up the mess somehow, and after killing the vampire that they were assigned to, the body has to be disposed of. (But, it wasn’t fucking easy, and Satoru knew this. It was difficult knowing that the endless trails of blood were never-ending and that the evidence of murder wasn’t going to fade away from the public).

As Yaga always told Satoru, it was more important to keep vampires hidden from society as much as possible. Throughout the country, rapid cases of indescribable murders have been increasing, and Nanami always pointed it out when the two would wait around in the lounge room together.

(“Thirty more cases of victims drained of blood,” Nanami spoke the other night, staring at the television screen as he fiddled with the remote in his hands.

Satoru stared at him, tilting his head. “No newspaper?”

“For once I listened to you and I went along with the news. Besides, it helps me see how the public is reacting to these ca—”

“Wait,” Satoru interrupted. “You actually listen to me?”

“Starting now, I will stop.”)

Satoru reached the bridge that was connected to the roads that he had just been traveling for quite some time. He turned around, sighing at the obvious sight of blood that trailed to the moment where he had stopped; with snow on the ground, it wasn’t helping that the blood was more painfully obvious.

He knew that if Nanami came around, he’d get a never-ending glare from him for leaving a mess, but at least Satoru was disposing of the body.

Satoru picked up the dead corpse and quickly tossed it over the bridge, watching the body fall until it hit the surface of the water. With one big splash, Satoru turned around, wiping off the excess dirt on his hands, and decided to leave the scene as soon as possible before anyone would’ve been able to witness it.

He thought of different possibilities that he could go on for the rest of the night. Perhaps, he and Nanami could watch a movie together after so long and maybe Satoru could actually shut up for once, but for some reason, Satoru wanted to be alone. He usually wanted to hide in his own head whenever he knew he had to drink blood for the night.

Satoru murmured a swear underneath his head and then placed his palm on his forehead, sighing at the thought. It was never fun being reminded that you were a monster and Satoru had to deal with these uncontrollable thoughts of his; he knew he could control them, but he believed that they were the truth, after all.

Even though he never murdered a human for the sake of his hunger.

His phone began to ring in his pocket and he sighed deeply, already aware of who it could be that was calling him. Satoru reached for his phone and then looked at the caller ID, realizing that Nanami was trying to reach him.

Satoru cleared his throat, throwing a wide grin on his lips, not minding that he was in an opposite mood a couple seconds ago. “Hello Nanami, have you finished your pa—”

“Yes, I’m just calling to see if you did yours,” Nanami interrupted, a slight groan from the other line.

He sounded exhausted. Though, Satoru couldn’t blame him.

“Ah, I did. Shall we go out for a night stroll?” Satoru asked, even though he preferred to be alone.

“No, thank you,” Nanami responded blandly, which was why Satoru even asked because he knew the answer already. He might as well pretend to be in character. “Don’t forget to get rid of the body.”

“Already did it,” Satoru stuck his tongue out, still making his way down the street in front of him. He looked up at the flickering street lights and glanced at the dim-lit windows of the apartment buildings to his left. “Did you think I was that forgetful?”

“It’s you, after all.”

“That hurts.”

“I’m hanging up now since our business here is done.”

“Not even a ‘goodnight’?” Satoru pouted before he heard the end of the other line go off.

His smile slowly faded as he went back on his phone, staring at the messages he was receiving from Yaga about his new watch. Satoru checked back on his watch, realizing that only twenty minutes had passed since he last checked, and it wasn’t long from now until the timer would go off to signal that he needed to feed.

Satoru didn’t bother to bring any blood bags with him, because why would he? It would’ve been a bad move on his part if he dropped any on accident during a battle in public. Most of the time, he’d drink in the infirmary room and bring up small talk even though it pained Satoru deep down to taste a red liquid that was so sinister yet so delicious and can be devoured easily from an innocent bystander.

It didn’t take him long to make his way to the small town in front of him and he ignored most of the ‘missing’ posters that were stuck on the walls of the worn-down buildings next to him. Satoru didn’t want to pay attention to these papers; he already knew these faces, anyways, and they’re all dead—vampire or human. Regardless, these incidents would’ve been happening if vampires hadn’t existed—if Satoru didn’t exist himself.

He made his way past an alleyway until he heard low growls coming from near him. Satoru raised his eyebrows, glancing down at a matted stray down near his feet, and he noticed that the puppy was gnawing at his black leather shoes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, watching the puppy chew on his shoelaces as it kept on growling at him. For some reason, the animal looked familiar to him and—well, he wasn’t sure why it was hitting him as if the animal was something important.

Regardless, Satoru couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle at the obvious failure of the puppy clawing its small paws on his shoes. He bent down, watching the small animal continue to chew on his shoelaces. He tried to reach out a hand to pet it, but of course, the puppy pulled back, untying his shoelaces in the process.

Satoru gasped, staring at the animal with a displeased look that he was purposefully showing off. “Hey now!” Satoru retorted playfully with a pout growing on his lips. “I just bought these”—and he really didn’t, he was just messing around with a small animal as if it was an actual human child—“and now you’re ruining them.”

There were only growls as a response.

“That’s not very nice,” Satoru muttered, raising his hand closer to the puppy who still kept its distance from him. “You don’t wanna be my friend?”

More growls.

“I’m not that bad of a guy,” Satoru chuckled jokingly. Well, he was half-joking.

Yet again, more growls.

“Alright, you wanna go?” Satoru scrunched up his nose and held his fists up, pretending to be in a small fighting stance against the puppy that was still chewing on his shoelaces. “This is the wraith that you’re gonna face once you mess with Gojo Satoru’s sh—”

“What are you… doing?”

He was stopped in his sentence and he turned around to face you.

Out of all the people to run into him in this weird sight, he ran into you. And—oh, now everything began to click to his tiny brain eventually. He remembered running into you about a week or so ago and—oh yeah, this dog was close with you, or something.

He kind of remembered.

“Uh, nothing,” Satoru grinned awkwardly, hoping that the awkward silence would fade.

“A-Ah, you’re that one guy…” you muttered quietly into your dark scarf, slowly making eye contact before you eventually pulled away from his gaze despite the sunglasses blocking the view of his irises.

“And you’re that one girl,” Satoru chuckled, standing up finally before he pointed down at the puppy. “And this one’s a feisty one.”

“Meeko.”

“Uh, wh—”

You interrupted, “that’s his name.”

“Oh, right.” As if Satoru would remember that. “So, is he your dog? I’m assuming he is.”

“No, he isn’t,” you responded shyly, trying to force yourself to make eye contact with him but it was odd enough that he was wearing shades when it was super dark outside. “I wish he was though. I enjoy taking care of him.”

“Oh?” Satoru tilted his head, placing a hand on his hip. “Why don’t you take him to a vet and get him some vaccines or something? You can adopt him then unless he belongs to someone.”

“I take him once in a while,” you explained, sighing. “The vets think he belongs to me but he really doesn’t. As far as I know, he doesn’t have an owner, and—and it seems like just a stray,” you spoke quietly, looking down at your feet. “B-But I can’t really have a pet at home.”

Satoru blinked at you. He didn’t know who you were but he decided to not pry with questions any furthermore. It was best that he didn’t have any close interactions with humans, anyway.

And, sure, once in a while, he knew he would be messing around with some girls here and there, but he’d assure himself that he was a one-night stand man and that he wasn’t looking for a committed relationship—he can’t, he knew it, and he knew that because of what and who he was.

He shook his head off his thoughts as you made your way past him and then picked up the puppy that was busy messing with his shoelaces. “S-Sorry about your shoes,” you spoke quietly, picking up the small animal before making your way into the dark alleyway.

What is with alleyways nowadays? Satoru sighed, wondering why people always ended up getting themselves lost in such dark and uncomfortable places. It was dangerous, especially with the current murders that were occurring and—

Shit, you were really walking down there.

“Hey!” Satoru shouted, cupping his palm to his mouth. “You do realize that you are walking into a pretty sketchy area, right?!”

“Yup,” you responded, raising your voice a little.

“What the hell?” Satoru’s eyebrow twitched, unsure of why you’d risk yourself going into someplace so risky, especially with all the murders going around. He would think you’d be more cautious, especially with the shy personality that you portrayed right off the bat.

It wasn’t his business, but he didn’t want another person to endanger themselves.

However, it still wasn’t his business—but he decided to follow you, anyway.

“Are you crazy?” Satoru questioned as he raised his voice, hoping that you’d knock some sense into yourself.

“Maybe a little,” you responded to him, not minding that the light was slowly fading out as you walked past a wall lamp. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Yes it does, silly,” Satoru sighed, placing his palm on the back of his neck. “It does matter when you risk yourself in dangerous situations like this.” He wanted to mention the rising case of unexplainable murders but he’d figure that you were aware of what was happening anyways.

“I prefer to be outside than inside, really,” you responded to him, smiling down at the puppy that was resting in your arms.

“I guess,” Satoru pursed his lips. “But whether you like it or not, I will walk you home.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that but the words had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them from falling out.

You stopped on your feet, not moving a single muscle until you looked up at him. He looked at you with an odd stare; he wasn’t sure why you randomly stopped moving. And right as he was about to ask you what was wrong, you spoke, “I think I can walk myself home. It’s best if you, uh, don’t walk me home.”

“Huh?” Satoru had a deadpanned look on his face and he shook his head. “Look, I get we don’t know each other, but I’m not letting you just walk home in the dark at this—”, he glanced down at his watch, “hour.”

“I’m used to walking home this late.”

Satoru straightened his posture, looking down at you as you continued to walk down the alleyway, puppy in your hands with an uncomfortable look on your face. He tilted his head, looking at your features, and it wasn’t hard for him to take note of how you looked. With his Six Eyes, he was able to sense anything that was going on around him, and if Satoru had to find a positive outlook to being a vampire, it was that he was capable of seeing in the dark.

“That’s really dangerous, you know?” Satoru commented, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah.” You spoke, not wanting to continue on with the subject, and Satoru caught onto that.

Satoru cleared his throat, trying to initiate another conversation. “So, um, what’s your name?”

“Um,” you licked your lips, looking hesitant before you decided to speak, “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” Satoru smiled, wondering if you’d ever try to make eye contact with him. “Gojo Satoru.”

“Ah, so—”

“Satoru is fine,” he grinned cheekily, not getting a reaction out of you. “I don’t mind if you call me by my first name. I prefer it.”

“Alright,” you said, finally making eye contact with him as you cocked your eyebrows in confusion. “So, uh, why do you wear sunglasses at this hour?”

“Ah, these things,” Satoru stuck his tongue out playfully, initiating his child-like personality in hopes that you’d find yourself being comforted by his silly behavior. However, he tried to ignore the fact that you didn’t really show any reaction to it and just continued to stare at him. “Well, I like sunglasses. What can I say? I like to look stylish at night.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“It’s better than a blindfold.”

You pursed your eyebrows, clearly looking puzzled. “You wear a bl—blindfold?” You questioned.

Satoru caught on that you stuttered quite frequently, and perhaps, you were just nervous around his presence. Yet again, how could anyone not, as to his arrogant and charming bastard-self. “Sometimes,” he spoke so casually as if wearing blindfolds in public and sunglasses past midnight were a normal thing—and they were, to Gojo Satoru, at least. “I just like to be that cool guy, you know? I wanna stand out.”

You shook your head, sighing. “I can tell you are an idiot.”

And Christ, you were acting so blunt out of nowhere. “Eh, that’s a bit rude to say to someone you just met, don’t you think?” Satoru made a displeased look.

“I mean, you don’t seem offended.”

“I’m not, because you are actually right,” Satoru snapped his fingers. “It doesn’t mean I can’t act offended.”

Much to his surprise, you couldn’t help yourself but shoot a smile to him. Your lips curved up into a small twinkle and he was taken back by it. You haven’t really shown a lot of cheerful emotion, even from when you first met him to walk with him down a dark alleyway; you didn’t know who he was, let alone, Satoru had no idea what was your deal or who you even were. However, that small beam of a smile made his face flush into a deep blush and—he really wasn’t sure what made him react that way.

“You’re funny,” you commented before turning away, meeting the gaze at the end of the alleyway in front of you.

“I aim to please,” Satoru chuckled, smiling back at you before he looked ahead with you.

“I can walk home from here, you know?” You said, reaching the end of the alleyway and you were met with street lights above the both of you. “I-I appreciate you walking with me though.”

“Well, I didn’t want you walking all by yourself,” Satoru shrugged his shoulders as you held onto the puppy tighter. He smiled at the sight, wanting to hold his hand out to touch it but you seemed to be enjoying yourself in the comforting moment. “But I really can walk you home.”

You looked up at him, wondering what eye color was beneath those sunglasses. “It’s okay. I-It’s best if you don’t,” you shyly spoke. “Thanks anyway.”

“Yeah, uh, how far do you live?”

“Just a few more blocks.”

“I mean,” he tilted his head. “That means you’ll get to spend a few more blocks walking with me.”

“I, uh—” you clench your teeth, hoping to fight back a blush from rising your cheeks. You turned away, hiding your face in the scarf and Satoru’s eyes widened at the sight. He wasn’t sure what it was; maybe he was tired, or maybe he felt blood-starved—no, he wasn’t. He didn’t go for a long period of time without feeding unlike last time, and instead, he was finding himself to feel a heartwarming, fluttering feeling in his chest at your reaction.

He smirked to himself, keeping his hands in his pockets as he thought that your reaction was cute. He wasn’t surprised that a good amount of girls and young women would react the way you did. Because, it was Gojo Satoru, after all.

“I won’t kill you!” Satoru chirped, a smile beaming on lips. You didn’t look very amused at all. “Seriously,” his tone changed as his grin faded away. “I don’t think it’s safe for a young woman like you to walk home at this hour.”

“Yeah, um, I appreciate that, but—” you turned around, looking frightened for a moment. This gave Satoru all the more reason to offer to walk you home and then both of you would part your separate ways. It was such an easy task, but he didn’t blame you for being so skeptical. “It’s best this way.”

“Alright, I won’t argue with you,” Satoru gave in, huffing out a breath. “But be careful, okay? Seriously. I don’t want you and your little guy to get hurt,” he said, eyeing down at the puppy in your arms with its eyes closed.

“I appreciate that. Thank you,” you smiled at him.

You gave a confused look; it seemed as if you were unsure if you wanted to speak up about something, but Satoru didn’t bother to question it. It was better off that he’d let you be in your own mind and not pester someone that he just met with any questions. He knew better that vampires aren’t meant to have serious relationships with humans, unless it were his students or anyone at the school—though, all of his one-night stands didn’t have any meaning to him, as it should stay that way for him.

“So yeah, I guess it was nice meeting you,” you broke the silence between the both of you for a moment. It didn’t last long but to Satoru, it felt like forever.

He blinked at you before he let out a forced chuckle. Satoru wasn’t sure why he was so determined to walk you home but he wasn’t going to fight against it—and it definitely was because he didn’t want you to be walking home so late at night. Because, yeah, that was definitely the reason.

“It was nice to meet you too, Y/N,” Satoru smiled and he looked down at the puppy in your arms. “It’s nice of you to take care of it even though it doesn’t have a home.”

“I do my best to take Meeko to the vet as often as I can,” you explained, eyeing the small furry animal in your arms.

“Meeko is a cute name,” Satoru responded, a smile still glued on his lips. “Maybe one day he won’t be so vicious to me any—”

“Satoru,” you interrupted him, catching him off guard.

“Eh, yeah?”

“Why were you bloody the night I met you?”

His eyes widened, suddenly remembering that moment when he held your wrists up against the wall and he was so starved of blood, he was lacking in his techniques—which was very rare for him, but it wasn’t impossible even for someone so experienced to mess up every once in a while—and he had his Infinity off the entire night. He remembered it all; the blood on his clothes, your feared face as he pinned you up against the wall, and his near moment of falling into a bloodlust state—the memories washed over him too quickly, and he even gasped at his own thoughts.

Satoru didn’t know how to process the words out of his mouth. He wasn’t going to talk about how he was a vampire hunter, let alone a vampire, and he couldn’t just spit out that he was a murderer or anything—all options were terrible. Even if he lied and mentioned that he was part of a cult, a gang, or whatever, all options fucking sucked. He was at a loss now.

“I—fuck, I promise it isn’t what you think,” Satoru retorted. And seriously, this was the best he could come up with, but it doesn’t matter anymore. The words slipped out. “I’m so sorry for scaring you that night.”

You stared at him, not phased by his reaction nor were you showing off any specific emotion that captured his attention. In fact, he was surprised by this, and as he tilted his head, he gave off a puzzled stare.

“I don’t understand what you did,” you murmured, looking down at your shoes that were wet from the melted snow. “I don’t know if I want to know.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. Honestly, I forgot about that ni—”

“Is it because you’re so used to what you’re doing?”

“I—” he stopped himself from speaking. He had no idea where your words were coming from, but your emotionless reaction wasn’t showing off much. For some reason, Satoru wanted to see that small smile you had again, and he wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel less of a monster.

“It’s okay,” you licked your lips and sighed. “You just scared me.”

“I know. I am really sorry about that.”

“Do you kill people, Satoru?”

What the fuck were you even saying and—he was not expecting these questions to come out of your slightly chapped lips but he was actually hearing these words. Satoru clenched his fists, not wanting to answer your question and he only turned away. He had a million different answers in his head, some lies and some were actually the truth, but he didn’t mutter out a word.

You caught onto his reaction and then shook your head. “Nevermind then,” you said, gritting your teeth. “I know you won’t hurt me, though.”

“What?” Satoru whipped his head, facing you, and he was completely baffled by your words. At this point, he wasn’t prepared for such surprises. “Y-You don’t know me, Y/N.”

“I know,” you closed your eyes, clearly hiding your face in the scarf you wore. You opened your eyes slowly after a few seconds to look down at the animal in your arms. “But you didn’t hurt Meeko. Y-You were being nice to him, weren’t you?”

“I—” Satoru cleared his throat before continuing, “of course. I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

“I remember you were talking to him but I didn’t know what you were saying. I just—I was just happy that you didn’t hurt him,” your voice lowered as you kept a fearful look on your face. “You’d be surprised how many people would hurt those that matter to them.”

Satoru blinked as he looked at you, unsure of how to respond. His experience with you drastically changed into something a little bit darker than he’d imagined, and he never really had these types of conversations with anyone—it was mostly educating his students on vampire hunting or annoying Nanami to death as he smacked him with a rolled up newspaper.

“Satoru,” you called out his name, catching his attention as he was off in a daze. “Can I ask you two questions?”

“Sure, Y/N, I guess,” Satoru responded, still baffled by the whole conversation the both of you were having.

Your bottom lip quivered and Satoru noticed your eyes water up slightly, clearly you looked like you were in a serious emotional state. For some reason, Satoru wanted to raise a hand to you, if that would comfort you somehow, but he didn’t. Again—he’d tell himself to avoid maintaining strong relationships with humans outside of school. It was better off that way; for Gojo Satoru, it was better off for anyone.

“M-My first question…” your voice trailed off as your bottom lip quivered more.

“Y/N…” he spoke softly, his stare turning into a more concerned look as his voice died down to a more disquieted tone.

“If—if someone asked you to kill another person, would you do it?”

Satoru’s jaw nearly dropped.

Where the fuck was all of this coming from?

Now wasn’t the time to stand there gawking in confusion. He parted his lips at the sudden question but he closed them tightly right away. Satoru held back a laugh too. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing that for so long now—from training to become a vampire hunter and to be one of the strongest—if not, the strongest—vampire hunter, let alone, he was one himself. Sometimes he’d laugh at the irony.

However, he wasn’t laughing now.

“I don’t understand why you’re asking this,” Satoru responded, shaking his head. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Can you answer my next question then?”

“That depends. Are you gonna ask something crazy?”

“Kind of. I-It’s crazy to me.”

Satoru sighed and waved his hand around. “I guess I won’t know unless you ask.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath and you looked up at him, meeting his gaze beneath the sunglasses that rested on his nose. “Do you want to be friends?”

He blinked, unsure of how to respond to that question. Of course he can’t—he refused to make close relationships with anyone outside of the vampire hunting business, and it was better off that way so humans were protected from him. Satoru bit his bottom lip, he couldn’t just say no but he really wanted to.

“I get it if you do—”

He interrupted you, without hesitation. “Ah, no, that’s not what I’m trying to go off as! I just don’t think you can keep up with me!”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What are you, um, talking about?”

“Weeeell,” he fought back a chuckle—and he figured he could just casually say that he drinks blood and has murdered numerous vampires and even humans in his past but—nah, that wasn’t going to get him any friends. “I’m annoying.”

You stared at him for a moment before closing your eyes and you sighed. “You really are an idiot.”

“Yep!” Satoru chirped, a grin forced onto his lips in hopes that you would be on your way home. Yet a part of him hoped that you’d ask for him to walk you home—for some reason. “I’m pretty damn annoying. You’ll get fed up with me.”

You shook your head, sighing deeply once more. “You’re weird.”

“I know, aren’t I?” Satoru’s grin grew larger. “You’d really hate me.”

“If you don’t want to be friends, you can ju—just say so.”

“No, that’s not it!”

You turned around, making your way down the sidewalk in front of you. “Maybe we can meet again and you’d want to be friends,” you spoke out loud, raising your voice a little, and then you continued to walk further down.

Satoru didn’t say anything; this was good. It should be this way. It was safer for you—or any human in this case—to avoid any relationship with a vampire, unless the human was supposed to be a vampire hunter or something. Whatever. You were leaving, not wanting to look back, as it seemed, and it was best to bid a farewell this way.

Satoru watched you make your way further down the sidewalk and you made a quick turn to the left, not bothering to glance back at him.

For some reason, he wished that you did look back.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #shrimp os

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 7 - Of testing the waters, special snowflakes and weirdly long showers

series masterlist

tags:  @weasleysbees ; @gloryekaterina​ ; @thatguppienamedbae​ ; @sagittarius-flowerchild​​; @hufflepuff5972​ ; @pandaxnienke​ ;  @izzyyy-1

if you’d like to be added/removed, send a DM or an ask

warnings: probably swearing, mentions of food and eating, allusion to masturbation (which you can choose to interpret differently) word count: 2902

If you have any feedback, please let me know!

—————⑦—————

  You walked out of the shower still lightheaded, but also weirdly ecstatic.

There were a few girls in the bathroom now, you reckoned it must’ve been past curfew if people were starting to get ready for bed. Walking up the spiralled steps to your room, you had half a mind to poke your head into the common room, as if some force was pulling you there. You felt as if you were absolutely out of your mind, you didn’t trust your brain. You also had felt this need to see George, even just briefly, as if you missed him already. You managed to pull yourself together, though.

You stepped into your room to Angelina, Alicia and Katie already there. You overthought what kind of greeting to use and instead said nothing, moving onto your evening routine.

“What’s up with you, weirdo?” Angelina asked endearingly with a slight chuckle, studying your figure. “What do you mean?” you asked back, trying to sound casual, hiding your face while you pretended to look for something in your dresser. “You look… tense,” Alicia quipped, giving the other girls a look. “Tense? Naah, I’m chill,” you turned to them and waved your hand around wildly. “Clearly,” Angelina agreed, nodding her head. “How was detention?”

You froze while pulling your bed covers back to slip into them.

Admitting you were in love with George to yourself was relatively easy, you knew it once you felt it. That was it. Sure, it was weird and new, but you’d have time to come to terms with it. Admitting to the girls, however – that was something else. For years you denied having any feelings for George, and whenever any of them suggested you two getting together in the future, you mocked them. You couldn’t just admit to them now that they were right in the end.

“We, uh- scrubbed cauldrons,” you replied. “Uh-huh, and how was scrubbing cauldrons with George?” Katie questioned with a glint in her eye. They were onto something, but you wouldn’t give in.

“Extremely boring and uneventful,” you answered, sticking out your tongue to them, then disappeared underneath your blanket.

Falling asleep that night proved easier than you thought. You had been worried that all the excitement and your heart running wild would keep you up for long, but soon after the girls stopped chatting you drifted away. Images of George in your mind kept a dorky smile on your face, as you hugged the stuffed panda he got you all those years ago tight.

  —————⑦—————

  Next morning you woke up with a jolt. You freshened up and subconsciously put in a bit more effort into your appearance – you felt good. Your thoughts were still mostly monothematic. You decided to give yourself some time to figure out your feelings before telling anyone, or worse – acting on them. But that didn’t mean you weren’t excited to see George, after what felt like an eternity.

You buttoned up your school cardigan, wondering if he’d be at breakfast. Fred and he had first period free on a few days of the week, including Tuesday, thanks to the small number of classes they took, so you couldn’t be sure.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him at the table, though, focused on his breakfast.

“Morning,” you greeted cheerfully, slipping into the seat next to him. You hopped over the bench graciously even though you had a skirt on, as others greeted you back. “You’re in a good mood, take it you slept off well?” George pointed out, his voice still a bit sleepy, and took a bite out of his toast.

You picked out some food and poured yourself some tea with a smile, thinking back to what good sleep you had and what kind of dreams it brought you.

“Slept off?” “You said you were really tired last night, you left dinner first and I didn’t see you later in the common room,” he noted. “Ahh,” you agreed, taking a sip of your tea. So you would’ve found him in the common room, you though. “Yeah, had a good sleep. You?” “Mmm, so-so,” he replied, gesturing with his hand. “Fred and I worked on the Fever Fudge until pretty late.” “You could’ve slept a bit longer, when do you start classes..?” You queried, hoping for a certain answer in the back of your mind. “Yeah, but we have no classes together until afternoon, I’d have only seen you at lunch before that,” he explained, stuffing his mouth casually, “you walked off so suddenly I wanted to know you were alright.” You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide.

  —————⑦—————

  Multiple times you had to scold yourself in Alchemy, for not focusing on your work. Your mind was running wild and you reached a conclusion. There was no going back, the dice have been rolled, alea iacta est.

It would be foolish of you to dive straight in, you thought. But since the two of you had already been so close, now you somehow felt this way, could George be interested in you romantically too? You decided to test the waters a bit for some time, see how it goes and if he really sees you as only a friend.

George occupied your mind now, you found yourself thinking about him often, your daydreams growing bolder as with time you got more comfortable with the idea that you were completely and utterly attracted to him. Both emotionally and physically. You craved his attention and realised that you always took it for granted. Now you searched for it, constantly wondering about the ways you showed each other affection as friends – wanting to only balance the line now, maybe step a toe outside a little bit, to see how George reacts to it. By the time for lunch, you were properly excited.

Once again, you took a seat next to George, who was busy talking. You sat real close, your sides touching. You resisted the urge to wrap your arm around his and lay your head on his shoulder and settled down.

George looked at you at the sudden contact. He couldn’t see your facial expression. Thinking it was the manifestation of your need for comfort, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed your arm gently. “Everything alright..?”

It took a lot of effort for you to not squeal and keep your face casual, pull yourself together.

“Yeah, why?” “Oh, I just… dunno,” he mumbled, dropping his arm. You looked up at him innocently, “I don’t mind that,” you referred to his embrace. “Oh I bet,” he chuckled, pushing into your shoulder and getting back to his food with a smirk. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you mocked offence, hiding just how much your heart rate picked up. “Nothing, just- just joking,” he replied and got back to listening to Fred.

“Do you know if Frazer is back from the hospital wing?” you asked him on your way to Transfiguration, talking about your regular desk mate. You moved closer subtly, brushing your shoulder against his arm.

Frazer used to be one of the reserve players for the Gryffindor team, so George kept in touch with them. “I don’t think so, didn’t Angelina say anything to you?”

You knew they would still be absent, but that was not the point.

“Last time the seat next to me was empty it didn’t go well, is all.” “See, I’d sit next to you but then you’re just gonna complain how I keep distracting you,” he scoffed jokingly and put his hands in his pockets.

You took this opportunity to link your arm through his and waited patiently.

“’kay, I’ll sit with you,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “But I will be distracting you.”

And he did. But this time you happily let him. You put up enough of a façade so that McGonagall thought you were somewhat participating in class, while in reality, you had zero focus on the topic.

It started with him just nudging with his pinkie the hand you were holding down your notebook with, during the lecture. Then he took his quill and started a game of tic-tac-toe in his notebook and slid it towards you.

After you made your first move, you didn’t slide the notebook back, making George move his chair closer, so that you were both hovering over the paper together. You played a few games, each ending in a tie. Last round, as George was close to winning and you were about to make a move, he placed his hand on your quill hand, botching your move, then made his final one.

George sucked air in through his teeth, “would you look at that,” he mocked, earning a glare from you.

He then withstood two minutes of boredom, doodling in your notebook occasionally, before he started writing on the margin of your notes. This started a dumb joke contest between the two of you which lasted until the end of McGonagall’s lecture. She ordered you to practice, giving you a chance to talk.

“You’re awfully nice today,” George quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Am I?” “Yeah. No ‘George, stop it’, no ‘George, I wanna focus on the lesson’, no glares...”

What was supposed to be just a joke to tease you, got you thinking. Were you behaving too much unlike usually? You didn’t think you were being that nice, so could it mean-

“Am I that mean usually?” you asked casually, resting your chin on your palm. “Yeah, just aw-“ he started, sarcastically. Then he took notice of your expression, which wasn’t necessarily serious but he still worried, “-wait are you serious? I was just joking-“ “I know, I know…”

“You’re both idiots, you are aware of it..?” Fred butted in, leaning over his desk behind you.

George shot him a look and grabbed your hand, then still holding it, flipped Fred off.

  —————⑦—————

  The same week, Hogwarts was graced with the first snow of the season. It had started snowing around noon. By the end of your afternoon classes, there was a layer of snow on the ground already while the snowfall continued. That, paired off with your all-around angelic mood these last few days, made you excited like a child.

You pretty much ran out of the classroom, skipping through the corridors to the common room. Noticing George’s back by Fred and Lee, you practically threw yourself at him.

“It’s snowing!!” you shouted and they laughed at your giddiness. “Yes, we know, Y/N, there are windows in here,” George told you, settling you down.

You looked up at him with puppy eyes, pouting. You weren’t quite ready for Fred and Lee’s teasing yet, so you’d rather not have to say ‘George, go outside with me, but just the two of us, please’ out loud.

“Are you going out?” George asked with an adoring smile and you nodded enthusiastically. He looked at his mates who were already busy with something else. “Alright, get changed and I’ll meet you here.”

As soon as you stepped outside you marvelled at the sound of snow under your boots. You ran ahead a bit, looking around yourself at the snowflakes falling everywhere. George chuckled at you, but you didn’t mind, the sound of his chuckle only made you happier.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy about the snow.”

But it wasn’t just the snow.

You turned to face him and shrugged. “I’m in a good mood,” you said, reaching your hand out for him to take. George took a second trying to read you, looking into your eyes, making you dizzy again. “Let’s go to the lake,” you proposed. “Okay,” he replied simply and finally took your hand.

It felt different from all the other times you held hands. While it was different in all the best ways, it made you extremely self-conscious – from the distance between the two of you (you ended up close enough to brush your arms together as you walked) to how tight your grip was (about medium). That’s how you walked in silence until you reached the lake.

“It’s beautiful,” you noted, truthfully. “Too bad there’s not enough to make a snowman, huh?” you said, kicking a bit of snow under your foot. “Give it a bit of time and we’ll make a troll out of snow.”

You looked around the beautiful landscape, mountains and trees covered in white layer of snow, the black lake beginning to freeze on the edges and the delicate snowflakes disappearing after meeting its smooth surface.

You glanced at your scarf, jacket and gloves. You brought George’s hand up, his black hand gloves providing better contrast, allowing you to better admire individual snowflakes. “Look,” you told him, completely enamoured with all the tiny shapes.

And he would have, had you not looked so adorable.

“I think about it every winter and it still baffles me, how each of them is different. And they’re all so beautiful. Each one is special…”

“Yeah… yeah, they are.”

  —————⑦—————

  You took a warming shower and put on some comfy clothes, then walked downstairs into the common room. It was full, non an extraordinary sight on a Saturday night, but the worst of it – George was sitting with a group of others and you couldn’t just outright ask him to ditch them to spend time alone. You walked over to the couch with your regular smile, hoping they wouldn’t stick around for too long.

You took a small spot on the sofa between Fred and George, who was spread wide in the corner, his arm on the backrest. You brought your legs up end settled close to him. To your appreciation, his arm didn’t move from its spot, behind your shoulders now. It didn’t take you long to rest your head on it, his body warmth drawing you in.

The afternoon in the snow took its toll on your friends, their conversation was slow, their tiredness visible. One by one they started getting up, stretching and heading up to their dorms, Fred and Lee amongst them.

“You going up?” George asked you through a yawn, noticing you didn’t show any desire of getting up from your spot. “I wanna stay here a bit longer,” you mumbled, looking at him a bit expectantly.

He hummed in agreement and shifted to sit a bit straighter up, allowing you to snuggle into his side without having to lay on top of him.

You put your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him like many times before, hoping he wouldn’t feel your thumping heart this time. George placed one of his arms around your shoulder, the other loosely over your arm on his middle and sighed contently, letting his head fall back and resting his eyes.

You breathed in his scent and let it consume you. Being this close felt electrifying, exhilarating yet comforting at the same time, it felt simply as if his arms were made to hold you.

“Been a while,” he said quietly. You felt the vibration of his voice and it sent shivers down your spine. You’ve always loved George’s voice but now it had a special effect on you. “Hm?” “Since we’ve… spent time like this,” he explained. Spent time like this, huh? “Hmm… has it..?” you mumbled.

“Are you drifting away already?” he chuckled and you followed, sleepily. “That comfy, huh?” “Actually, yeah… and I love this jumper, it’s so soft,” you blurted out, running your fingers over the fabric of his jumper. He didn’t say anything to that and you cringed a bit, scared you may have made things awkward.

“How are you?” George asked after a bit of silence. He noticed the question was vague, considering he saw you every day, so he quickly added, “after last week.”

You thought for a bit. “Alright, I think.” He hummed. “Had other things on my mind this week, distracting me,” you said truthfully. “Other… what things?” he asked, suspiciously. “See, that’s for me to know and for you to find out… maybe.” “Playing with moss again, are you?” he quipped, making you laugh. “You are in a good mood all the time lately,” he noted, his tone suggesting there was something else behind his words.

The two of you talked some more of day-to-day things until it got hard to keep your eyes open. Eventually, you both decided it was time to head up, not wanting to fall asleep on the old, worn-out sofa. You reluctantly left his embrace and got up, feeling the cold of missing his body right away. You stretched and yawned, stalling your parting ways.

George looked at you, putting his hands in his pockets briefly. He then took off his jumper. The t-shirt he had underneath had ridden up slightly, revealing a bit of his abdomen, but you looked away before he could catch you staring.

“Night, love,” he said, handing you the piece of clothing, not quite looking you in the eye. You hesitated at first, then took it from him, brushing your fingers against his.

“Sweet dreams, Georgie,” you replied and turned to walk away, swallowing hard as soon as he couldn’t see your face, feeling your cheeks burn up.

You took a long shower that night, one loud enough to mask just how much George occupied your mind.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley series

[lyssismagical]

Could you write a prompt for Peter having a bad mental health day and Tony being there for him?

Peter doesn’t have bad days frequently. Not anymore, at least. Spider-Man has been the greatest outlet for all the dark clouds, and he rarely ever has the time to think, let alone fall into the bad.

If he doesn’t think too much, the thoughts, the bad thoughts, don’t have the time to chance to prey. They don’t have the chance to dig their claws into his chest and drag him down.

So when winter hits, worse than it normally does, and his heater breaks after he takes a tumble into the river again, Tony forbids him from patrolling for a week.

A week over winter break, without homework or Spider-Man. He can’t even use Ned as a distraction because he takes a vacation to Hawaii with his family every winter break. Even MJ, who’s notoriously unoccupied, always prepared to stitch Peter up whenever he shows up on her fire escape, even she’s busy. Her dad took her on a road trip to Florida to get away from the nasty New York snow.

And as though the universe doesn’t hate him enough, May offered to take up a bunch of shifts at the hospital to give her coworkers some time off over winter break. Meaning Peter’s at Tony’s for the whole week with just his thoughts to keep him company.

So when Tony slips into his room at nearly two in the afternoon, he’s really not surprised to find the heaviness that curls around his chest has returned, the ache behind his eyes has returned, and his throat feels clogged with apologies for ending up back here, back in this dark pit he sometimes stumbles into.

“Hey, kiddo. Friday told me you were up and I kinda figured this was some sort of teenager thing to stay in bed until the afternoon, but I was a little worried when you didn’t come down for any lab time,” Tony explains as he sits down on the edge of Peter’s bed.

Every ounce of effort has disappeared, lost somewhere in the wreckage left behind. The silence that creeps along makes the apologies swell in his throat, threatening to spill out in a mess of uncertainty and fear, he’s sure he’d be apologizing for the wrong things anyways.

“You okay?” Tony asks. He leans down to gently brush a curl off Peter’s forehead, touch careful but warm and easy. “You being quiet is never a good thing in my books.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says. There’s a lot to be sorry for. “I’m really sorry.”

He wants to apologize for everything. Everything from the time he spilt ice cream on his mom’s pretty yellow dress to Ben’s death to failing Tony time and time again to now for not being enough.

None of that comes out. Instead, he just stares, listless and unfocused, at the wall behind Tony. It’s still grey, not having been painted a nicer color since it changed from a guest room to Peter’s room. There’s an old Iron Man poster thumbtacked to the wall, corners curling in and color fading.

Peter thinks about how he’s just like that poster, curling into himself and fading.

“What’s going on, kid? You’re not hiding any injuries from me, are you?”

Peter wonders if that would be better. If injuries, if making the internal pain external, if turning the invisible visible, if that would be better, if that would change the outcomes.

He shakes his head anyways because he can’t really feel, let alone hurt.

This, though, makes Tony’s shoulders droop a little bit, a quiet hum escaping him like this is worse.

“Bad day?” Tony guesses.

It’s like a secret code.

He remembers Ben saying that after Peter’s parents died. Ben used to lie on the couch somedays, unkempt and tired more than anything. May would brush back his hair, plant a kiss on his forehead like she had the magic touch of true love that would fix Ben up, and she’d ask Bad Day?

Peter picked it up, he supposes, because he used to do the same to May after Ben died. He was too young to carry the weight on his shoulders, but May was too tired to do it, so he wasn’t given a choice. He went out as Spider-Man and he did his homework, he’d buy takeout and do the chores, he even learned how to do the laundry to keep the weight off May’s back.

When he’d get home to find her curled up on their old couch, quilt tucked around her shoulders, and old gameshow reruns muted on the TV, he’d brush back her hair, plant a kiss on her forehead, and ask Bad Day?

Tony, on the other hand, doesn’t kiss his forehead. Peter’s too old to believe in the magic of true love’s kiss with its capabilities to fix anything, anyway.

“Yeah.” Peter’s voice is hoarse and scratchy when it comes out, and he wants to draw the word back in as soon as it’s in the air. He’s used to lying when it comes to questions like that, used to bearing the weight on his shoulders, used to asking the question not answering.

“Oh, buddy.”

Tony manages to sound sadder now than he did a few nights before when he’d fished Peter out of the Hudson.

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeats, a broken record of apologies.

Tony shakes his head, slipping into the space beside Peter, laying down with their sides touching from their shoulders to their knees.

This changes everything. It throws the entire universe of sorry’s and bad day’s and repetition offbeat. Instead of forcing him out of his safe haven, Tony’s simply joining him.

It’s not about trying to drag him out of the dark pit he’s dropped into, it’s just keeping him company in his misery.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tony says eventually, after the silence has settled and time had started to blur.

Peter blinks a few times, slowly and pointlessly, like he used to do back when he still needed glasses and wasn’t wearing them. Tony nudges him in the ribs a little bit when Peter takes too long to answer.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything you want. Pepper always got me to talk about it, there was always something, you know? Once it’s off your chest, it’s easier to deal with.”

There’s so many things Peter could say, so many admissions, so many apologies. His mouth stays shut, though. There’s so many, but none of them are the right ones to pick.

On one hand, nothing causes these days, there’s no reason for Peter to have fallen again, but, on the other hand, it could easily be argued that it’s the buildup of everything that’s caused it.

Either way, words aren’t particularly easy.

“Thank you,” Peter says because it’s the last coherent thought he’s had, the only thing that bounces around his head amongst the sea of apologies. “For- For being here, for doing this. I, uh, I’m sorry.”

Tony, instead of answering or trying any of the pointless pep talks or attempting words of comfort, he takes Peter’s hand in his.

Eventually, Tony will drag Peter out of bed. They’ll go to a nearby all-day breakfast place in their pajamas at four in the afternoon. Tony will tell the corniest dad jokes he can come up and Peter will eat all the pancakes he can, movements becoming less mechanical and more subconscious, eyes sparking with light. By the time they get home, it might as well be dinnertime, but Tony puts on Lilo and Stitch instead and digs some ice cream out of the freezer, Blue Raspberry Spider-Man with his signature red and blue colors, and they’ll curl up on the couch together. Peter will talk about all the whys and they’ll properly make an attempt to fix all of it.

For now, though, it’s enough for Tony to run his thumb over Peter’s knuckles and for Peter to let his head fall onto Tony’s shoulder.

It’s enough to lay side by side in Peter’s safe haven until he’s ready to face getting up.

It’s enough to simply have company in his misery.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 

#lyss answers #lyss writes #this is kinda messy but i'm writing with a migraine at 5am so?? #oops can you tell this is a vent fic #unrelated but my eye has been twitching for nearly three months and im losing my mind please #irondad #irondad fic #Irondad and Spiderson #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #irondad fanfiction

[thiswasinevitableid]

17, indruck, nsfw if you want would be awesome. Your writing is incredible btw and reading (and re-reading) your fics always makes my day!

Thank you so much! And here you go, it is indeed NSFW

17. i get your name during secret santa at work and use the same wrapping paper for my gift to my friend, so…sorry about all the sex toys 

Duck adores the way work does secret santa; random assignments, followed by dropping the gift off on the 20th. Simple and to the point, and no gathering where everyone is judging everyone else’s gift choices. 

Plus, this year he got Indrid as his person to buy for. He’s head of marketing and design for the Arboretum, and Duck’s been looking for new ways to help him feel welcome. He started up in February and is a little reclusive, seeming to think his work is so different from that of the rangers, gardeners, and researchers that they won’t want to talk with him. 

Duck finds him fascinating, if a bit weird. They worked together to design new promotional art featuring native prairie plants, and Indrid soaked up everything Duck told him. And it’s remarkable to see the familiar ecosystem come to life through a new set of eyes. Light brown, curious eyes that Duck’s sensed watching him appreciatively from time to time. No harm there, Duck’s stolen more than a few peeks at Indrid when the artist is otherwise occupied.

So, yeah, he’s glad the gift gives him another way of making Indrid feel like he’s a part of the team.

When he steps through the office door, Indrid perks up, spinning in his chair. 

“Good morning Duck! You caught me just in time, I have to take Thacker his gift.”

“Ain’t that a coincidence. Here” he produces the flat, rectangular box wrapped in pine tree paper, “Santa’s makin an early delivery.”

Indrid flaps his hands with a delighted smile, so Duck sets the box down on his desk. 

“Thank you so much, Duck. I have a meeting right after seeing Thacker so I can’t open it now-”

“No big deal, man. Just wanted to get it to you in case you were runnin around all day. Merry Christmas, ‘Drid.”

That smile follows him all the way to his office, then out into the freshly snow-covered woods. Indrid always seems so happy to see him. Unlike some people.

He checks his phone. Still no texts. He left Jason’s present on his front porch, some part o him hoping that it would strike the right balance between “it’s cool if we stay friends with benefits” and “but I would really like something more serious. Really. Would it kill you to go on an actual date?”

It’s not like the other guy isn’t willing to demand lots of Duck’s time and energy. It’s just that whenever Duck needs even a smidge of the same, he’s nowhere to be found. 

As he’s eating lunch, his phone buzzes. 

J: Dropped wrapped box back at your place. Been leading up to this for awhile, but I’m gonna end things. I know a cuffing move when I see one. 

Well, that explains the lack of contact for three weeks. 

He groans, closes his thermos. Has be really been that desperate for romance that he spent all this energy on a guy who acts twenty-five rather than thirty-five? It’s not that much to ask, right? He just wants someone who thinks he’s worth their time, who likes talking with him, who wants to get to know all the messy, overgrown parts of him. 

Ding

It’s an email from Indrid, asking if Duck will stop by his office after he locks up the visitor center so Indrid can thank him for the gift.

He responds in the affirmative, soothes his bruised ego for a few more minutes, and then dives back into his reports on the health of the Lost Forest section.

By the time he locks up, the only cars in the parking lot are his truck and Indrid’s VW Van. He heads to the lower floor and follows the clicking of a keyboard to Indrid’s office. 

“Hello, Duck.” Indrid ushers him in, shutting the door behind the ranger, “I’m glad you didn’t have to rush off. Please, ah, have a seat.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk, which he then leans back against. Duck could be imagining it, but it looks as if his usually messy, dyed silver hair has been brushed down. And he’s not in the thick coat and hat he wears on his way out the door at the end of the day; he’s still in his black cardigan and light green shirt, black pants showcasing the long lines of his legs. 

“I, ah, I really like the gift, Duck. And I was, ah, was wondering if you’d like to go get dinner before we make use of it.”

“Uh, how would we both use a sweater?” Duck’s heart ping-pongs between his throat and his stomach. 

“......What sweater?” Indrid’s eyes are wide behind his red glasses. 

“Aw fuck” Duck drops his head into his hands, “knew I shoulda bought more wrappin paper.”

“To be certain I am understanding correctly, this is not what you meant to give me?” Indrid bites his lip, tilting the box so Duck can see the contents. 

“Yeah, I did not mean to give my coworker a vibrator and a fuckin paddle.” He flops his head back, covering his face with his hands. Maybe he can hide like this until Indrid leaves or the world chooses to mercifully strike him dead. 

“Oh.” Indrid puts the lid back on the box, “it was for someone else. That makes more sense.”

He sounds sad, and that’s a million times worse than if he were angry or mocking. There has to be a way for Duck to salvage this. 

“Uh, you can keep ‘em. If, uh, if you want. Person I got ‘em for don’t wanna see me anymore.”

“I don’t have much use for them on my own. Well, I suppose this could be fun” he picks up the vibrating plug, one that can sync to music, speech, or an app, “but not as fun as it would with someone else controlling it.”

“You tellin me there ain’t someone chompin at the bit to get you into bed?”

“I’m not really anyone’s type.”

“You’re mine. Fuck. I, uh, I mean, uh-”

“Duck, while you recently got dumped, I assure you, you can do better than me.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I thought about you way more in the last month than I thought about him.” 

Indrid’s eyebrows leap up his head. Then his expression does a series of acrobatics, landing on disbelief. His friend looks down at the floor, arms crossed comfortingly around his stomach.

Duck stands, the few feet between them as charged and uncertain as a crumbling cliff edge. Carefully, he sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders. 

“‘Drid, is there somethin you been meanin to tell me?”

“I like you a lot, Duck. And I find you painfully attractive.” Indrid refuses to look up, not even when Duck rests a hand on his cheek.

“Why didn’t you say anythin sooner?”

“I didn’t think you felt the same way.” 

Duck guides his face so they’re looking at each other, takes a deep breath, and leans up to kiss him. 

A fluttery sigh as Indrid’s hands settle on Duck’s body, starting on his hips and then boldly slipping into his back pockets. He keeps the kiss slow and chaste, holds off on parting his lips or nipping at the curves of Indrid’s mouth. Duck’s never had to reassure someone with a kiss before and he’s not going to fuck it up. 

He shifts forward, encouraging Indrid’s exploration of his body, and accidentally presses the taller man into the desk, pinning him. Indrid “eeps” into the kiss, going rigid in Duck’s arms.

“Fuck, sorry” Duck tries stepping back, only for Indrid to grab his ass, keeping them chest to chest. 

“Don’t be.”

Duck considers the flush crawling up Indrid’s neck and the hopeful look hiding behind his glasses. He sets a hand on each bony hip and gives a short, sharp shove, growling a little. Indrid moans, louder this time, and yanks him into a kiss by his hair. When he lets go Duck gulps for air before biting his ear

“You like it when I’m mean, sugar?”

“Like does not even begin describing it.”

“Here I thought I was gonna have to romance you some.”

“I am in favor of romance as well.” Indrid wriggles his hips, grin wide and eager. As much as Duck wants a look at the cock currently hardening against his thigh, he has an even better idea. 

“Think I can do both. It’s real clear tonight, whole place’ll look amazing with a full moon on the snow. Howsabout you and me take a little walk?”

“That sounds-”

“With you wearin this the whole time.” He whacks the gift box towards Indrid.

“-Perfect. Give, give me one moment.” Indrid grabs the plug and one of the packets of lube Duck put in it for courtesy and dashes from the room. Duck downloads an app onto his phone, and holds Indrid’s coat open for him when he gets back. 

As they set off down one of the short loop trails, he casually asks, “you turn it on?”

“Of courseAHhnn” Indrid shudders, stumbling on his next step. 

“You know much about that model?”

“I aAAAhhsumed it’s remote controlled”

“It is” Duck pulls his phone out, shows Indrid the corresponding app, “but it syncs to music too and, uh” he smirks, leans closer to the phone, “speech.”

Indrid yelps as the toy buzzes again. Duck happens to know it has multiple speeds and a thrust function, and he wants to know just how Indird looks when those kick on at the same time. But he pauses, waiting to see if Indrid needs to stop and go back inside.

“In, in that case” he flicks a strand of hair from his face, “why don’t you tell me about the nest you’ve been watching.”

Duck takes his arm, guiding them along the path and explaining all about the Great Horned Owl nest he’s spotted, and how he’s not sure why it’s occupied right now since nesting season isn’t for months for that species. He keeps his phone in his free hand the entire time to better pick up his voice. Indrid nods, doing his best to listen, but by the time the hit the clearing in question he’s having a hard time walking. When he’s busy looking at the stars, Duck finds the button on the app to turn on the thrusting function.

“FUCK!” Indrid hunches forward, bracing on a tree trunk, “ohgoodness, that’s, that’s so good.” He’s working his hips and ass against nothing,whimpers filling the night air. 

“Yeah? You like the fact I can fuck you without eve touchin you?” 

Indrid whines, manages to turn around and lean on the trunk, right hand frantically pawing his crotch. 

“Keep your fuckin hands off you dick.”

The whine jumps several notes in the scale as Indrid slams his palms flat on the bark, face turned pleadingly to the sky and hips jerking helplessly in a futile search for friction. He looks so debauched and just a little out of place, the sweet little artist who strayed too far into the woods and is at the mercy of the big, bad, wolf. 

This big bad wolf has no interest in mercy. 

“Lookit you. Gonna make a mess of yourself just from some teasin.”

“This is haAArdly teasing, oh, ohgod.”

“I’d say it counts. I mean, I may not let you cum at all.”

“Please” The whimper gives way to a sob, Indrid thoroughly cornered against the tree as Duck lunges forward.

“You’re on my turf now, sugar, so you don’t get to make a demand. We’re gonna do this my way, and I ain’t decided if that means leavin you to walk back hard or to make you cum so many times you make a mess of those pants and gotta drive home wearin a reminder of how fuckin needy you are when it comes to my dick.”

“Yes, yesyesyes”  Indrid tries to grind forward enough to hump him. Duck drops his phone in his pocket, figuring it’ll still pick up enough, and traps his hips back. 

“Yesss, Duck, sweetheart, please, please kiss me.”

“Can’t do that and talk at the same time.” Duck rips off one glove.

“BuMPHmmmmm”  Indrid hums around the fingers in his mouth, still writhing weakly against Duck’s hold. He has to be close, and Duck is harder than diamond.

The wolf pounces. 

He spins Indrid away from the tree and brings him gracelessly to the ground, climbing atop him and working his hips hard, rutting against his trapped dick. Indrid’s feet kick in the snow and he clings to him, babbling as Duck chases his orgasm.

“So good, so good sweetheart, please, please I’m going to cum-”

“If you cum before I finish I’m fuckin leavin you here.” 

“I can’t, it’s, it’s so much, I’ll make it up to you, oh, oh Duck, AHhnnn”  Indrid tenses under him, cumming with a cry.

“Fuck it” He grunts, grinding as hard as he can even as Indrid squirms from the overstimulation beneath him. It’s not always easy for him to cum like this, but goddamnit he’s soaked his boxers and Indrid is still here, willing and submissive, taking whatever Duck gives him, letting the beast in the trees have his fill. 

He cums with a gasp, dropping forward as it races through him. Over the rush in his ears, Indrid is murmuring sweetly, telling him how wonderful it was. 

Why are his knees so fucking cold?

Oh, right, the snow.

With a groan he sits up, standing on wobbly legs and helping Indrid up. When the other man whimpers he fumbles his phone, turning the toy off.

“C’mon, let’s go back and warm up.”

Indrid grins, looping their arms together and leaning against him. It’s not just the post-orgasm haze that has him giddy; he realizes he feels like this whenever he and Indrid are together.

“‘Drid will, uh, will you come home with me?”

“I have an alternate proposition. I need to change my clothes, and need to feed the mischief at home. How about you meet me at Blue Plate in an hour? After all, I did promise you a date.”

Duck brushes snow from Indrid’s hair as the taller man embraces him. Indrid is watching him, and it’s the first time a long while that Duck’s felt fully seen. 

“You did, didn’t you.” He sighs, resting his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

“Is that a ...yes?”

He tips his head up, kissing Indrid’s cheek, “Yep. It’s a date.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills

[kezibun]

Woodland get away

A self ship, self indulgent fic for my Anniversary with Red.

Part 2: Saturday.

The sun shone through the gap in the curtain stirring Red awake… or was it the delicious scent of food that filled the air that woke him? Either way he rubs his sockets and yawns. That's when he notices the empty space next to him. 

He doesn't have much time to think or wonder, though before she walks in with a tray of food. 

“Morning love.” She chimes. 

“Was this sweetheart?” He mumbles in his rough morning voice, stretching as he sits up.

“Breakfast in bed for my dearest husband.” She sits down next to him and plants a kiss on his cheekbone before placing the tray on his lap. “Pancakes and coffee for my love.” 

“You spoil me Doll.” 

“Happy Anniversary Red.” 

“Happy Anniversary Kezi.” 

He pulls her in for a quick kiss before he turns his attention to his food. 

“Thanks Sweetheart, almost looks as gorgeous as you.” 

She giggles. Such a sweet sound he could never get tired of.

“You’re welcome. I’ll just go get mine, real quick.”

She goes and gets her own tray of breakfast and sits on the bed beside him. They enjoy their meal together and have a little cuddle session before getting ready to go out. Kezi hadn't really made any plans, neither of them usually do the whole plans thing so it was time to head out and see what they could find to do.

The fresh cold morning air welcomes them. The whole forest is covered in a thick blanket of white, fluffy snow. 

Kezi beams as she walks out into the winter wonderland. It still baffles Red how excited she gets over the snow, though from the 3 years of living here he can kinda see why, it is pretty rare, that doesn’t make her fascination with it any less cute though, makes him think back at their brief time in the underground together… he couldn't understand why she wanted to play in the snow so badly, it was cute… but oh man was that whole ordeal a rollercoaster. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a giggle followed by a snowball to the face. 

“Oh no ya didn’t.” He chuckles.

“Oh I think I did.” She snickers.

And then a snow war broke out between them, Red was always a hard target to hit unless caught unaware, and he’s got amazing aim. She got a couple hits but if they were keeping score he definitely would have won. While they were playing in the snow already they of course had to make a little snowman, or well Kezi insisted making a little snow family so Snowbert wasn’t lonely. 

Then they made a quick warm up stop and got a bite to eat at one of the coffee shops dotted around, after that they set off into the snowy forest once more.

Red drags her over to the ice skating rink… it was almost as if he had this planned. They have a lot of fun skating, Kezi isn't the best on the ice, but Red is pretty confident and has her every step(?) of the way. Then Red leads her to a nice restaurant, Kezi was surprised to find out that Red was hiding a nice dress shirt under his jacket. She felt a tad under dressed now… that's not fair, but Red made sure she knows that if she wears that cute smile she has then she's always dressed for the occasion. 

After an amazing dinner they sit on a bench in the town surrounded by all the fairy lights that are neatly strewn around. It was starting to get dark now so Kezi broke out the glow sticks making necklaces and bracelets for them both. Red doesn't mind despite feeling slightly silly, it brings a smile to her face so it's worth it. 

"Beautiful." She giggles after putting the glow stick necklace around his neck. 

"Me? Wha? Na. Ya eyes must be broken." He chuckles.

"Na uh my eyes be fine, and Yes you. Lookie it matches your amazing eyelights." She pouts.

"You're so weird Kitten." 

"I know. So are you sometimes but that's why we're perfect for eachother." She leans up and kisses his forehead. "Oh I made you a prezzie." She uses her phone to get a little box out of her inventory. "Here." 

"Was this?"

"Open it silly and find out." 

He takes the box and opens it up. Inside is a golden pocket watch, a cool embossed pattern on it with Kezi and Red writing around it, on the back it says 104. Inside the clock face is black with red numbers. The whole thing has a magical shimmer to it. 

"Wow, really cool, ya made it yer self?"

"Yup, I had a little help from… well… myself. Oh and it's not just a pocket watch, it's like the protection keychain but fancier, a-also it's like a locket and you can put a picture in it. If you want." 

"That's amazing Sweetheart, I'll keep it close always. I got one question?"

"Yeah?" 

"What's 104 mean?"

"Oh well it's um…" her cheeks flush. "You see… you're red… which is the 1st colour of the rainbow and my colour is green which is 4th… and everyone knows a 'O' is a hug… soo…"

"Oh my freakin' stars Kezi. How are ya this freakin' cute?"

"I don't know."

"I got you some stuff too." He gets two boxes out of his inventory one is obviously her favourite chocolates and her face lights up at the sight of them. The other is a little box with a green bow on. He hands her the boxes. She carefully takes off the bow, takes off her hat and ties the bow into her hair with a smile.

"Beautiful." Red hums. "Now come on, open it."

She nods and opens the box. Inside is a snowglobe, the glass orb is sat on a mechanical looking box, inside the ball is a little white bunny sat on a patch of forget-me-nots. 

"It's so pretty thank you. And I'll definitely enjoy the chocolate." She chirps before kissing him quickly.

"Hey is also a night light, and this box has a secret puzzle compartment, I had a little help from my bro but I made sure it wasn't dangerous."

"Oh wow really!? That's even more awesome." She looks over it and finds a button that makes the whole thing glow a pretty green. "I'll be sure to solve the puzzle later ok?"

"Ye whenever ya wanna."

"I love you." She hums as she hugs him tightly.

"I love ya too hun bun." He hugs her back and scatters some little kisses over her face. "I have one more surprise for ya doll." 

"Really?"

They back their gifts into their inventories then Red takes Kezi by the hand leading her out of the little town. He stops by the lake.

"Wait here for me ok."

She nods and he kisses her forehead before disappearing.

She looks around… it's gotten really dark by now. To her left is a building of some kind, what she can't tell. To her right is more forest and behind her is the town… but in front of her is the beautiful lake, it glistens in the moonlight, the stars sparkling over the water.

On the water from behind the building comes a light… a lantern… on a little boat, then she sees a familiar glow as the boat fully reveals its self. It's a lovely little row boat with her skeleton sat in it rowing towards her. She can't help but "awwww" and giggle.

He stops at the end of a tiny pier. "Come on my lady." He becons. 

She scurries over and carefully sits in the boat with Reds help and he rows further into the lake.

"This is so romantic Red." She squeaks. "When did you plan all this?"

"Tbh not long before we left to go on holiday." He chuckles. "A certain bro of mine convinced me I had to do somethin' for ya today."

"Ye I can imagine Edge freaking out because we're improvising." She giggles.

"Ye. But the actual plan was all me, impressive right?" 

"Very, It's been amazing. Thank you."

Red soon stops the boat and the two of them admire the nights sky as usual, they chat and make up constellations and stories.

Red looks over to Kezi as she smiles up at the sky. She gasps.

"Shooting star!" 

He looks over to see the small light trail across the sky. They both make a wish each. Before smiling back at eachother.

"How'd I ever get a girl like you to like me??" He mumbles.

"How'd such a handsome, amazing skeleton ever fall in love with me?" She whispers back. "I love you so much." She sighs happily. 

He tilts her head up and leans in pressing his teeth against her lips, he pulls her closer, as close as he can in the little boat as she rests her hands on his chest, his hand tangling into her hair as he deepens the passionate kiss. He breaks the kiss but only for a second as he goes back for more. "I… love ya… too…"he mumbles against her lips. His soul quietly purrs out for her as she hums into the kiss. She wraps her arms around him as she enjoys the smooches.

He breaks the kiss. 

"Happy Anniversary Sweetheart." He purrs.

"H-happy Anniversary love." 

#self ship fic #self ship #self indulgent #red #red x kezi

[bucky-of-the-opera]

Pass the Popcorn

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Movie night with Steve takes a rough turn when neither him nor Y/N know if they’re on a date.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,522

A/N: I was inspired by this post to write a movie date fic, so here it is! Enjoy!

Spring had finally arrived in Hawkins after a brutal winter. The last of the snow had melted, the scarves and mittens were discarded, and flowers were beginning to bloom.

Along with the changing of the season came the unlikely duo of you and Steve Harrington. After Steve’s breakup with Nancy and his old friends, he had become a completely different person than the one that Hawkins High had come to know. He was more approachable and less concerned about what his peers thought about him.

The two of you had been paired together for a science project back in January, to your dismay. But as you spent more time with him, you saw the changes within him. By the time you had finished the project, you would come to call Steve a friend.

Ever since then, Steve became a normal part of your life. He drove you to school, walked you to your classes, and made sure neither Billy nor anyone else ever messed with you.

On this particular day, you were sitting at your desk in your math class when a knock interrupted your teacher. The door opened to reveal none other than Steve Harrington, who was supposed to be in his history class.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Parker,” Steve said as he showed off a folded piece of paper in his hand. “I’ve got a letter from the office for,” he squinted at the paper, pretending to struggle with your last name, “Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide a smile as your teacher waved him on and went back to her lecture.

Steve walked swiftly to your desk. He handed you the paper and gave you a wink before leaving the class just as abruptly as he had entered.

You unfolded the paper and read the message:

Wanna see a movie tonight? Yes/No

You did your best to stifle your laughter and quickly circled your answer.

Halfway through the class, you asked to be excused to use the restroom. Stuffing the paper in your pocket, you left the room. You rushed down the hall to where Steve’s classroom was and knocked on the door to announce your presence.

“I have a letter from the office for Steve Harrington,” you explained to the teacher.

Steve was resting his head in his hand as he watched you walk down the aisle. “Took you long enough,” he grinned at you before taking the paper.

You shook your head at him and left to return to your own classroom.

Steve quickly unfolded the paper and saw that you had circled Yes. He breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the paper away in his backpack.

When the bell rang, you stopped at your locker and then met him at your shared lab table in your science class. “You realize you could’ve just waited until now to ask me?”

“You’re saying you didn’t appreciate my pretty face distracting you from math?” he said, as if the word alone made him sick.

“You’re something else, Harrington,” you teased.

***

Later that night, Steve was fussing with his hair when the phone rang. He dropped his brush and ran to answer the call.

“You’ve got Harrington.”

Dustin shouted from the other end of the line, “Can you take me and Mike to the arcade?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Can’t your mom take you?”

“She’s out with her friends.”

“Well, you’ll have to find another ride. I’ve got plans.”

“With what friends?” Dustin asked.

“That’s uncalled for. But if you must know, I’ve got a date with Y/N.”

“With Y/N? Are you sure it’s a date?”

“Of course it’s a date!” But then Steve hesitated. “Why do you think it wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you two were strictly platonic. But I guess you’ve proved me wrong.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. “Mhmm. Well, anyway, I gotta finish getting ready for, uh, my date. Good luck with your thing.” He slammed the phone down and walked back to his bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror and gave himself a pep talk. “Henderson’s a kid. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s definitely a date.”

Meanwhile, you were trying to decide what outfit to wear. It took a while, but you had finally found a winner. You walked downstairs to the living room to wait for Steve to arrive.

Your sister entered the room, joining you on the couch. “You actually clean up nice,” she teased. “Excited for your date?”

“What? I’m not going on a date. I’m going to the movies with Steve.”

“Exactly. You’re going out with a cute boy to ‘watch a movie’.” She said, making air quotes with her fingers.

You pushed her hands down. “Stop doing that. It’s not a date. I think I would know if I was going on a date with Steve Harrington.”

“Okay. If you say so.” She looked out the window and saw Steve’s car out front. “Looks like your non date is here.”

You groaned as you put on your coat and marched to the door. When you swung it open, you saw Steve was halfway to the porch.

His eyes widened when you shut the door behind you. “I was just coming to get you.”

“You didn’t have to; I could’ve just met you in the car.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Right. You look great by the way. Not that you don’t always look great. Because you do… always look great, I mean.” He spoke quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You patted his arm. “You look great too, Steve.”

The two of you walked to his car. You both placed your hands on the passenger side handle at the same time and then immediately pulled back.

“Oh, I was gonna get the door for you,” he explained.

“It’s really all right. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

He blushed. “Sure, yeah.”

Steve walked around to the driver’s side. Crap, he thought, Henderson was right. This isn’t a date.

You sat down in your seat, closing the door. Oh no; this is a date, you realized.

Steve sat down next to you and started his car. He pulled away from your house and drove out of the neighborhood.

The two of you sat in silence until you came to a red light and Steve began drumming his hands against the steering wheel.

“Do you have any music?” you asked to break the building tension.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’ve got some tapes in the glove box.”

You popped it open and searched through the stack. One in particular caught your eye as you held it up. “I thought you said you didn't have this album?”

He momentarily eyed the tape in your hand before bringing his attention back to the road. “You kept talking about how much you loved it, so I went out and got a copy.”

You smiled to yourself and pushed the tape into the cassette player, fast forwarding to your favorite song.

The first few seconds began to play when Steve spoke, “This is the best song on the whole album.”

“Right?”

You and Steve sang along to the album for the remainder of the drive. He continuously switched between singing on and off key, making you laugh as he failed to hit the high notes. Eventually Steve turned onto a field, announcing your arrival.

Squinting, you peered out the window to see a giant screen with at least a dozen cars already parked. “You didn’t tell me we were going to a drive-in.”

“I didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I would’ve brought a blanket if you did.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got that covered.” He pointed his thumb at the back seat, where you saw a few folded blankets.

“Dibs on the fuzzy one!” You grabbed it as Steve drove up to the ticket booth. You took out the money you had shoved in your pocket earlier and tried to hand it to Steve who waved your hand away.

“It’s on me.”

You huffed and shoved the money back in your money. “Fine. But I’m paying for snacks.”

He parked the car and turned the engine off. You were already wrapped in your blanket with your seat reclined.

“You look cozy,” he said, chuckling.

Your eyes were closed as you responded. “Wake me up when the movie starts.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll just go pick out the snacks by myself.” He opened the door as you grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I’m coming. I have to make sure you get the right snacks.”

“How can I possibly mess up movie snacks?” he asked.

“You need to abide by the movie food groups.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “The what?”

“You need a salty food, a sweet food, and a drink. You can’t load up on just candy or just popcorn.”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions on the matter.”

You scoffed. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, despite the amused grin on his face. He stepped out of the car as you joined him to walk to the concession stand. His hand bumped yours as you walked. You thought maybe he was trying to grab ahold of it, but he immediately moved further away from you. You shoved your hands in your pockets and tried to put the thought behind you.

“Why don’t you order for us so I don’t ruin your movie viewing experience,” he teased.

“With pleasure,” you said as you stepped up to the window.

Minutes later you were back in the car with a large tub of popcorn, several boxes of candy, and drinks. The blankets from the backseat were now strewn across you both.

You grabbed a fistful of popcorn. “You know, I don’t actually remember the last time I saw a movie at a drive-in. I was probably really little.”

“Oh man, I used to come here all the time on dates – er days with nice weather.” Nice save, jackass, Steve thought. He picked up his drink and shoved the straw in his mouth to shut himself up.

You ignored his comment, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. When Steve had picked you up, you had practically convinced yourself that he was taking you on a date. But now you weren’t so sure.

Moments later the screen flickered to life, so you were able to stop yourself from thinking too much about Steve’s mannerisms.

As the movie played, Steve kept glancing over at you. Every time he snuck a peek, you were seemingly enthralled by the movie. However, he didn’t realize that you were sneaking glances at him whenever he switched his attention back to the screen. And multiple times throughout the movie, your hand had accidentally brushed Steve’s hand as you both reached for the popcorn. But you both immediately pulled away. At one point, you and Steve had given up on paying attention to the movie and were just focusing on looking like you were paying attention.

When it had finally ended, you sat up, stretching your arms over your head as the blanket fell to your lap. Some of the other moviegoers began driving away as Steve turned his head toward you.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“Uh, it was great. The ending was the best part,” you lied.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, definitely,” he lied. “It’s getting pretty late, I should take you home.” He threw his blanket and the empty popcorn tub and candy boxes into the backseat, and then started the car, pulling onto the street.

The drive back was quiet; the only sound coming from the music, which was set on low, and Steve’s humming. Minutes later he had parked the car on your driveway and turned the music off. His hands still gripped the wheel as he tapped his fingers.

“So, maybe I’ll see you this weekend?”

You were quiet for a moment, wringing your hands in thought. You bit your lip as you asked the question you had been pondering all night. “Was this a date?”

Steve’s hands slipped off the wheel, and he accidentally honked the car horn. “Um, I, uh–”

“Because my sister seemed to think that this was a date. But it wasn't, was it?”

“Did you, I mean… did you want this to be a date?”

“Well, did you?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Yes.”

You turned to face him, but he was still staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“I actually thought that this was a date at first,” he continued. “But then Henderson got in my head, and I convinced myself that it wasn’t.”

“If this was a date, what would you have done?”

Steve finally looked at you, a small smile on his face. He grabbed a large blanket from the backseat, rolled the windows down, and turned the music back on. Then he exited the car and jogged over to your side to open the door and take your hand. He led you to the hood of his car, helping you climb onto it. After sliding onto the hood next to you, Steve draped the blanket over you both and wrapped his arm around you, as you moved your head to rest on his chest.

“You’re good at this,” you said, bringing his hand up to rest over your heart and weaving your fingers through his.

He brought his other arm around you, holding you closer as he pressed a smile against the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a few songs until either of you spoke again.

You turned a bit in his arms so you could face him. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you for coming. I promise next time will be better, no awkward beginning.”

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to hold a smile.

Steve narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you yanking my chain?”

“Does this answer your question?” You closed the distance between you both, pressing your lips to his for a brief moment and then pulling away, your noses still touching.

“That definitely answered my question,” he whispered before finding your lips with his again. His hands traveled down to your waist as you brought your hand up to rest on his cheek. You felt his fingers graze your skin as he moved them slightly underneath the hem of your shirt. Your hand on his cheek trailed upward into his hair, pulling slightly on the strands. Steve tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, his grip tightening on your waist. A sudden gust of wind made you shiver, and you broke the kiss to bury your face into the crook of his neck while he held you tighter.

“You should go inside before it gets any colder,” he said, rubbing your arms to warm you.

“Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” you mumbled.

Steve kissed the top of your head before resting his cheek on top of it. “It’s a date.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 14 is gooo

Taking a short break after this. My hands hurt. Yep

The moment Sans appeared outside of Alphys’ laboratory, he knew he was going to hate this. He took in the good ol’ Hotland ambiance – mostly rocks, lava, and being too damn hot – then kicked the snow from his slippers, brushed off his overcoat, and banged on the heavy door.

It peeked open, and a yellow snout showed in the crack. “C-come in,” a voice said apologetically.

Sans rolled his eyes as best he could. “It’s me, Al. Move it, will ya?”

“Sans!” The door flew open, and the reptilian scientist backed up to look at him fully. “It’s r-really you! I thought the h-humans g-got you!”

“They did. I got better.” The giant skeleton bobbed his head at her as he stepped inside. “How’ve ya been?”

She smiled weakly. “Um...”

He nodded and went ahead into the main area, Alphys shuffling after him. The building was three stories, constructed of brick and steel in order to keep any mishaps contained. Now that he was using his sense of smell, it stank in here; Frisk’s workroom smelled like books and priestess and green things growing, but this was something acrid that made the magic of his nose and throat sting. “I’ve been w-working,” said Alphys, somehow phrasing it as a personal fault. “W-would you like something t-to drink? His M-Majesty brought t-tea.”

Sans came to a halt as he spotted a large shape moving from the back storeroom into the nook by Alphys’ first-floor library. The King of the monsters flipped a witchlight on, and it burned so bright that Sans had to shut his eyes. The humans’ lights really were a lot dimmer. “Welcome back, Sans,” Asgore said jovially, seating himself on a couch and gesturing for the skeleton to take the biggest armchair. “It seems you’ve had quite the adventure. How are you feeling? Would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks, Yer Majesty.” The larger boss monster wedged himself into the chair. “I’ve had a hell of a time. What all did the others tell ya, if I may ask?”

Asgore smiled thinly. His beard was longer than Sans remembered, and his hair looked like something had been nesting in it—as if they needed more evidence of how useless he was on his own, Sans thought. “It was quite a story,” said the King. “Would you mind telling me what happened again, please, from your perspective? But first…” He gestured over Sans’ shoulder.

Sure enough, Alphys was hovering behind him, holding something in one shaky claw. “Um,” she explained.

Sans scowled at her. “Don’t gimme that look, Al. I’m not gonna bite ya.” He extended his hand. “That’s a truth stone, right? I don’t care. I’ve got nothin’ ta hide.” Much.

“It’s m-mostly to check for any residual human m-magic that may be affecting you,” the scientist said, presumably truthfully. She allowed him to pluck the cobalt sphere from her grasp and skittered away with a speed that hurt his feelings a little. He and Alphys had never been the closest of friends, but…well, Frisk and her flagrant lack of fear had obviously spoiled him.

Crap. Whatever was in the stone was pretty damn potent, because thinking of Frisk made him want to say things that he had no intention of letting out until he absolutely had to. Asgore was suspicious enough of him having been around the High Priestess and other humans for so long; what would happen if he found out Sans had fallen for her like a ton of bricks?

“Now…” Asgore poured himself another cup. “How did you come to be in the humans’ grasp?”

Sans hadn’t minded telling Undyne all this stuff, but sitting here fiddling with the stupid rock while the King sipped his tea and watched him as if Sans was going to explode—that, he did mind. But he did it, starting with how he’d been out hunting poachers for a couple days straight without eating anything, getting weak enough to eventually be captured, and failing to kill the High Priestess when she came to make him that fateful offer.

Asgore was frowning, one hand to his chin. “She was sincere about taking you as her apprentice, with no attempt to harm you or steal your magic? Didn’t that strike you as odd?”

No shit, King Fluffybuns. “Yeah, it did, but she never even tried anything like that.” It was true; Gaster was the one who’d purloined a bunch of his magic. Sans wasn’t going to muddy the waters by bringing him up just yet. “I could tell she knew what she was talking about with the potions and stuff. She’s pretty sharp.”

“Yes, of course. Forgive me, but I want to be very clear: she subdued you without harming you, single-handedly?”

Sans’ socket twitched. “Your Majesty is correct,” he said stiffly. “She’s the High Priestess fer a reason. Her barriers are stupid powerful. I don’t think you, me, ‘n Tori put together could crack one.”

As he’d intended, the casual mention of Toriel made Asgore twitch right back. From her position behind Sans’ chair, Alphys cleared her throat nervously. “Are you s-sure? A human sh-shouldn’t—”

The skeleton held up the blue sphere, tapping it with one phalange. “Yeah, I’m positive. If humans had anythin’ like boss monsters, she’d be one fer sure.”

Asgore put down his cup. “And this extraordinary young woman also happens to be the child we knew as Kris? Is that correct?”

“Yep. She’s proven it beyond any doubt ta both me and Undyne.” Somehow, Sans doubted Asgore had made her hold the goddamned rock while she talked. “The others forced 'er to lie about bein’ a boy, but everythin’ else about her was real. She didn’t wanna leave here at all, and as soon as she got her memories back, she started figurin’ out how to come back with me. It happened sooner than we planned ‘cause the King tried ta sell some monsters out from under her. She got so pissed off that she broke the law and brought ‘em here on her own.”

“Got her memories b—ah, yes. Undyne said they were taken from her at the convent.” Asgore’s foot patted the floor a few times. “How old was she when she first visited?” he asked, with a new edge to his voice.

Sans frowned. “She said she was ten. She just looked a lot younger ‘cause they weren’t feedin’ ‘er. Why?”

Another slow pat, pat of fur on carpet. “Undyne overheard someone say the High Priestess was King Stephin’s illegitimate daughter. Do you believe this to be true?”

The giant skeleton looked at the blue stone, studying the patterns swirling in its depths. “I’ve seen how the King acts with her, and the guy I was talkin’ to had no reason ta lie. Puttin’ everything together, yeah, it makes total sense.”

There was no response. Sans glanced up. To his surprise, Asgore was staring into his teacup, his brow furrowed; the King set the cup and saucer down so hard that it sloshed all over the table. Sans had never seen him spill his tea before. “What about her other personal connections?” he asked brusquely. “Other friends and family?”

“Uh…” Sans craned his neck around to see if Alphys understood what was going on, but she was pushing her glasses up and looking at him in equal bewilderment. “Well, she’s got a bunch of half-siblings from the King, but she’s not real close with any of ‘em. One actually tried to kill ‘er while I was there.” Asgore blinked in astonishment, and Sans nodded grimly. “She doesn’t have any other family. She said ‘er mom was dead, and I haven’t had a chance t’ask her any more about it. Not many friends, just some lady she knew from school an’ a lot of guys wantin’ ta marry her.” He wrinkled his nasal ridge. “A lot of guys.”

Asgore nodded again. “I see. Thank you.” He finally noticed the puddle of tea, and used the hem of his already-stained cloak to mop it up. “You’ve spent a great deal of time with her. What do you believe are her true intentions? What does she gain from freeing monsters and antagonizing the other humans?”

“Frisk doesn’t think in terms’a what she can get, Yer Majesty,” Sans said irritably. “I know she sounds too good ta be true. I thought so, too, at first. But she really wants to help us, an’ she can do it better than anyone else. She’s already taught me how ta make fertilizer and a bunch of other stuff to improve our crop yields, and she’s got a whole plan t’get us outta slavery fer good—I’ll let ‘er lay it out for you whenever ya talk with ‘er.” He tossed the sphere from hand to hand a few times, then curled his fingers around it. “Did Undyne tell you about the farm on the river?”

The King stroked his beard. “She did, but I have difficulty believing it. I’ve seen that property myself, and I can’t fathom anyone buying it out of pure altruism.”

“’s not just altruism. She wanted t’do it before she even knew she’d been here as a kid, but now she remembers us an’ how much we all cared about her.” Asgore half-smiled in acknowledgment. With considerable effort, Sans forced himself off that tangent, concluding, “Frisk’s the real deal, Majesty. Turnin’ her down ‘cause she’s human would be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

The King sat back, eyes narrowed, and Alphys made a more-than-usually nervous sound. Sans fidgeted with the sphere. “Anythin’ else, Yer Majesty? I wanna get back home.”

Asgore’s gaze shifted from him to the diminutive scientist. “Do you have any questions, Dr. Alphys?”

For the first time, Alphys came around to stand in front of Sans. “Um…d-do you think she’d let me s-study her magic? I just c-can’t believe a human could be that p-powerful.”

Sans shrugged. “On the way here, she hid us with a barrier that kept people from seein’ or hearing me ‘n the wagons for over ten minutes straight. They couldn’t even tell the barrier was there.”

The King looked him, and at the sphere. Sans was rolling it around on his metacarpals at Alphys’ eye level, daring either of them to say he was lying. When Asgore remained silent, the scientist asked, “What else have you s-seen her do that m-most humans can’t?”

“Be a good person,” Sans mumbled, but the stone’s magic prodded him, and he had to add, “Here’s somethin’ weird. I was checkin’ on ‘er after she used up all ‘er magic on that barrier, and I ended up givin’ her a bunch of my magic by accident.”

Alphys’ jaw dropped. “You did what?” the King demanded.

Fuck. “Not like havin’ a kid or anything,” the skeleton said hurriedly. “I just…she’d been sick right before we left, so she was already a little run down, an’ I didn’t want us ta be stuck out there without ‘er magic.” That was true enough, but he had to physically stop himself from saying exactly how worried he had been. “I picked ‘er up, and next thing I knew, she was fresh as a daisy ‘n I was passing out. The exact same thing happened a few hours ago, right before I zapped us inta the Ruins.”

“I see.” Somewhat mollified, the King stroked his beard again. “Was she able to use any of your abilities, or did she convert your power into magic of her own?”

“She put a barrier up with it, so it was all her.” As he’d told Frisk way back in his prison cell, monsters were useless when it came to barriers; even if a human stole their magic and tried to use it to fuel a barrier, it wouldn’t stick. “Givin’ it away didn’t hurt me at all. It was jus’ like I’d been workin’ really hard, and I was fine the next day. I’m still a little tired from last time, but I feel like I just need ta get home ‘n go to sleep.”

“Hm.” At least Asgore looked thoughtful now, not angry or alarmed. “Has she ever passed any magic to you in a similar fashion?”

Something came into his mind and straight out his mouth: “No, but we did share a dream where she was able t’touch me, even though we were way far apart. Think that has somethin’ ta do with it?” Argh, that stupid fucking stone—

Luckily, this information didn’t seem to make as big an impression. Asgore just shook his head, looking helplessly at the scientist. “What do you think of all this, Doctor?”

“Hmmm…” The reptilian monster folded her arms. “The humans’ royal family has always had the g-gift of magic. She didn’t get any training as a ch-child, did she?” Sans shook his head. “That means it kept growing until she c-came to the Underground, and this environment p-probably stimulated it further. Humans who don’t use their magic as children will usually h-have more power as adults, and her magic didn’t manifest as anything d-destructive, so she was able to w-wait until the optimal time to learn how to use it.”

The King picked up the teapot. “How is she able to turn a monster’s power directly to her own use? And what about the shared dream?”

“I d-don’t think she’d be able to do that with a regular m-monster, Your Majesty. I think it’s because a boss monster’s S-SOUL is powerful enough that he had magic to spare, and his intention for her t-to have enough magic to p-protect them was the impetus.” She turned to Sans. “Have you been in proximity to her at another t-time when she needed m-magic and you wanted her to have m-more, or was this the first time those c-conditions existed?”

The skeleton thought it over, and had to shake his head. “Nah, this was the first time we were in that bad a situation. So, it’s not gonna keep happenin’ at random? It’s just ‘cause she needed it an’ I wanted her ta have some?” And we were cozying up? he managed not to add.

“I th-think so. It doesn’t hurt that you’ve spent so much time around each other, or that she’s been to the Underground and already l-likes monsters. Given that and your naturally strong c-capabilities, that could explain how her body was able to internalize your magic and express it for her own p-purposes. The same factors would facilitate physical c-c-contact in your dream.”

Sans nodded as calmly as he could, clamping his jaws shut as the truth spell urged him to say something about wanting to give her a lot more magic on purpose.

“Fascinating,” Asgore murmured. He absently picked something out of his beard. “All things considered, it doesn’t sound like she poses an immediate threat to any of us, and we may well benefit from her presence. Therefore, I will trust your judgment and Undyne’s, and allow her to stay for now. However, I will hold both of you responsible for her actions. Is that clear?”

“Sure, Yer Majesty.” Sans held the stone out to Alphys, who slipped into her coat pocket. “I’m gonna get goin’ now, if that’s all right.”

“Absolutely,” the King said, getting to his feet. “Welcome back.” He started to extend his hand, but withdrew it as Sans hopped up and started toward the door, hands in his pockets.

“I-I’ll see you out,” Alphys said quickly, covering the awkward moment. “If you’ll e-excuse me, Your Majesty—”

Asgore nodded, sinking back to the couch. A glance over his shoulder puzzled Sans: instead of being mad at the deliberate slight, the King was scowling and staring at nothing again, obviously back to his unhappy thoughts.

For once, Alphys went straight ahead of him, holding the door wide and closing it right behind them. “I didn’t w-want to ask this in f-front of King Asgore,” she stage-whispered up at him, and Sans obligingly knelt to hear her better. “Everything you were saying about exchanging your m-magic—are you…um…”

Sans gestured impatiently. “Spit it out, Al. Like I said, I’m not gonna—”

“A-are you in love with Frisk?!”

…Well, shit. Sans had forgotten how invested Alphys could get in any kind of narrative, and how quickly she’d pounce on any hint of romantic feelings between anyone, fictional or not. When he failed to immediately deny it, the scientist’s face nearly split in triumphant glee. “I knew it! The way y-you were going on, trying not t-to say too much—it was b-better than a whole p-play!”

“Shhh!” he hissed, though no one was even in sight, much less earshot. “Come on, Al! What would that even matter?!”

“Are you k-k-kidding me? Direct magical c-conversion doesn’t happen every day! It’s only possible between m-monsters in a reproductive context, and I’ve never heard of it at all between a monster and a h-human! Y-you gave it to her and sh-she used it twice!” The scientist slapped her own face and rocked side to side so gleefully that Sans thought she was going to keel over. “Everything I said to His M-Majesty was true, b-but there’s n-no way your magic could be interchangeable unless your SOULs had developed an incredibly strong b-b-bond!” Something like a tiny squeal. “I c-can’t b-believe this! You’ve g-g-got to promise me to b-bring her here tomorrow so I can s-see it for myself!”

“She was gonna come visit you anyway!” Sans protested. “I’m not puttin’ a show on for ya, okay? You can just study her magic!”

Alphys dropped her arms and gave him a look that made him more nervous than the entire interview with the King combined. “What?” he asked warily.

She held up one claw, then pulled a small device out of her coat. It was a square of glass set on a rod only a few inches long, framed with stones in eight colors. The scientist rubbed the white one and held it up as the glass came alive, flowing and surging within its frame like a drop of oil on water. “Hold s-still, please.”

Sans allowed Alphys to peer through the glass to check his SOUL, wishing more than ever that he could see it for himself. “How’s it lookin’?” he inquired carelessly, fooling neither of them. “What’s my LV?” A remarkably stupid question: it had been 20 for four or five years now, and LV didn't go any higher than that.

The scientist stared for so long that Sans had to reach down and tap her on the head. “Hellooo? Alphys? Ya there?”

Alphys didn’t move, except to say, faintly, “It’s 17.”

A very long pause. “I must be misunderstandin’ something,” Sans finally rumbled, “‘cause yer makin’ it sound like I lost a few LV. That doesn’t happen.”

“Be honest,” said Alphys, still staring. “How many p-people did you k-k-kill when you were with the h-humans?”

“Uh…one. Just…one. Someone who was tryin’ really hard ta murder her right in front’a me.” It was true, no matter how hard he thought about it. He hadn’t killed that group of poachers on his way back from bringing Snowdrake to the Underground, or even the fucking bastard who’d said something about her and called him names right to his face. “What does it matter? How would I even lose EXP? It’s not like I un-killed anyone!”

Alphys was starting to grin again. “I, er, w-won’t ask too many p-p-personal questions, but…do you feel…nicer when y-you’re around her?”

Sans scowled, but it was hard to keep up. “Are you sayin’ I’m gettin’ so mushy that it’s knockin’ my LV down? Remember the part where that’s literally impossible?!”

“These don’t l-lie, Sans.” The scientist waved the device at him. Sobering, she said, “I don’t th-think we should mention this to Asgore. He’s still a little, um, t-touchy about humans and m-m-monsters.”

“Agreed,” Sans mumbled.

She grimaced, and fiddled with the device, staring at the ground. “Um...d-does she still like p-plays? At all?”

Sans didn't know what to say. “If it'd make you happy, then yeah, I guess she does.”

“Hmm. I think y-you're probably right.” Alphys smiled in a quiet way he didn't usually see, then gave him that knowing look again, tucking the glass back into her coat. “I have a p-proposition for you. Just let me track your LV when you come here with Frisk tomorrow, and I won’t s-say anything strange to her about your SOULs. D-deal?”

He didn’t bother accusing her of blackmail: it was blackmail. Sans tried to look very scary, but she just folded her stubby arms at him until he stood up, said, “It’s too fuckin’ hot out here. See ya,” and was gone.

 ~

 “Wow,” said Undyne. “That’s…wow.”

“Indeed,” murmured Toriel. She took another bite of apple, dabbing her mouth with the household’s single clean napkin. “You opened the box, and reclaimed your memories?”

Frisk nodded, cheeks glowing. “It’s been very hard,” she said, unable to keep a little quaver out of her voice.

This was honestly not what she'd had in mind. She'd planned to tell Toriel everything that had happened with Sans, explaining her mission and her plans for humans and monsters, and what a peaceful future could look like; instead, the former Queen had asked a few questions about her personal life, and now Frisk couldn't stop talking about it.

Toriel took her hand, breaking her out of her guilty thoughts, and Frisk smiled at her gratefully. “I think I’ve cried more in the past week or so than I have in the past year,” the priestess confessed. Not to mention more hugs in the last three weeks than the past three years. “So far, the second fortune seems to be coming true. Making it to the Underground was one of the hardest parts, so we’ll see how my plan might work from here on. And…” She coughed. “I’m not ashamed of what else might happen, I just…”

The air in the room got a little more heavy, the silence more complicated. They were sitting around the table in the chairs Undyne had charged out to grab from someone else’s house; Frisk had been feeling so emotional in general, and so grateful to have two other women to confide in, that she’d told them nearly everything, including the fortunes and the bit about having a child very soon. Undyne was visibly working up to the giant, inevitable question of “Who?” when the boss monster shook her head. “I hope, Frisk, that you’ll think very carefully before you make any decisions of that magnitude,” Toriel said disapprovingly.

Frisk was about to answer when all three women stopped, looked at the kitchen, glanced at each other, and did a sort of collective shrug. Toriel cleared her throat. “Besides abstinence, of course, do you know the steps you should take in order to avoid that outcome?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frisk replied. Undyne looked lost, but Frisk wasn’t in the mood to explain human biology and birth control—it was awkward enough having to say why she needed to bring her bag with her to the bathroom. She also planned to never ask Toriel whether she thought a run-of-the-mill contraceptive would be sufficient against a boss monster’s magic.

“Well,” Undyne said firmly, moving on, “if it’s a big damn family you want, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Stop it, or I’m going to cry again,” Frisk scolded her, and they chuckled.

There was a more comfortable silence as they finished the last of the apples. “I hope this goes without saying, but if there is anything I can do for you while you are here, my child, you need only ask,” Toriel said, dabbing at her fur again.

“Actually,” said Frisk, “I would like a favor. We brought two wagons with us. One of them has gifts for everyone, and the other has a few provisions and my herbal supplies. Could you please check whether they’ve been inspected, and when we can go unload them?”

Toriel hesitated. Frisk understood why: it was a more official duty than Toriel had performed in a while. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” the human said, “but…”

“For you, dear, I will.” The boss monster sighed deeply. “I’d better do so now.” She folded the napkin and pushed her chair back. “Will you take her home with you, Captain?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I—” Undyne’s face fell. “Oh. Uh. Actually, my house is…”

Toriel sighed again. Frisk couldn’t help grinning. “Did you burn it down, or wreck it?”

“It was a training exercise that got too awesome,” the Captain said proudly. “I regret nothing! But, uh, I don’t have a house. I’ve been crashing with Papyrus.” She thumped the table. “Don’t worry, Frisk, I’ll stick with you. I’d do it even if His Majesty hadn’t ordered me to!”

Frisk winced, recalling what Sans had told her about the royal pair’s falling-out. A moment later, the fish monster caught herself and winced.

Sure enough, the former Queen’s hands were now gripping her robe, her eyes distant. “Did he?” she inquired. “How typical. Heaven forfend he speak to you or protect you himself, my child.” The boss monster shook her head. “You may either stay here or at the inn tonight, but starting tomorrow, my child, I’d like you to stay with me in the Ruins. You’re very welcome, too, Undyne.”

“But—” Frisk wished she could stuff the word back into her mouth as the monsters looked at her curiously. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say that that was too far from Sans. “We’ll see,” she said lamely.

Undyne nodded. Toriel studied Frisk for a moment before saying, “All right, then. I’ll check on the wagons before I head home. Good night, dear.” She got to her feet, giving Frisk another hug. “Sleep well, Undyne—” She raised her voice. “I don’t know why you’ve been lurking back there, Sans, but I hope you also sleep well.”

“Yeah, I know it’s your house, boss, but eavesdropping is creepy,” Undyne said in the kitchen’s general direction. “Good night, Your Majesty. It’s, uh…it’s good to see you again.”

Toriel smiled a little, and let herself out.

The giant skeleton emerged from the back room, grumbling something about privacy. “Oh, bullcrap,” the fish monster retorted. “It’s not our fault your magic’s so damn strong. A kid could’ve felt it when you came in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sans went into the living room and stretched out on the floor, looking at them upside down. “I see Tori got my note. Must’a woke ‘er when I knocked.”

Frisk and Undyne exchanged nods of agreement to not tell him what’d happened. “How’d it go with Asgore?” asked the latter.

“Pretty much what I expected. He made me use a damn truth stone, but at least now he knows I wasn’t lyin’ about Frisk wantin’ ta help everyone.”

Undyne scowled. “That sucks.” She sniffed. “You know what? It reeks in here. I don't mind it, but Frisk deserves better. C'mon, pu—Frisk, we're going to the inn.”

The priestess glanced at Sans, who looked as irate as she felt. “Maybe—”

“That's great. Night, boss!”

It was no use. Twelve minutes later, Frisk was staring at her reflection in the hotel's bathroom mirror, listening to Undyne's energetic nighttime routine in the next room.

The human sighed as dramatically as she could, turning out the light. Oh, well. At least she'd be able to get some sleep.

 ~

 Frisk was too tired to sleep.

For one thing, her brain just wouldn't stop berating her for not sleeping, and for being at all unhappy. She'd made it Underground! She was home! She'd hugged Toriel just a few minutes ago; Undyne was in the next room; the abused monsters were all safe with their families; Sans and Papyrus' house was in easy walking distance...

It was wonderful. It was everything she'd wanted so much as a child that she'd had to forget it to even function again.

...But she couldn't sleep, because she couldn't scoot over and curl up against her giant, grouchy apprentice, which he...probably still was? They hadn't talked about that. They hadn't talked about several things that they really should have already. She'd been exactly brave and tipsy enough the other night to convey her intentions, but that had been pretty one-sided. Just for fun, Frisk tried saying it to herself: I gave him homework to do before he can have sex with me. It...didn't sound better in her head.

She heaved a sigh and burrowed under the thick hotel pillows to escape her own thoughts. Could this situation be any more ridiculous? How many steps had they skipped in a normal courtship? Was it even a courtship if he was both desperate and terrified to touch her?

She didn't care. She just wished he was here.

Frisk must have dozed off like that, because when she sat up, the pillows tumbled off the bed. “Sans?” she whispered.

Something rustled by the door. The priestess fumbled for the lamp, but her hand encountered bone as he reached it first.

It should have been a lovely moment, but the light clicking on forced her to throw the covers over her head. Sans chuckled, giving her a little shiver. "Nice ta see you, too," he murmured.

Now Frisk was squinty and self-conscious. There had been just enough room in her satchel for her oldest, frumpiest, most easily wadded-up nightgown; she'd also forgotten to pack a hairbrush, and the hotel only had huge, saw-toothed ones for monster fur. “What are you doing here?” she asked, sounding more petulant than she meant to.

Pause. "Leavin', I guess," he said in evident displeasure.

"No!" Frisk flew out of the covers and grabbed for his wrist. "I'm sorry! Don't—"

"Hey, hey, easy," Sans said gently, sitting on the floor and smoothing her hair out of her eyes. Frisk moved over on her knees to bury her face in the white fur of his collar, and he rested his hand on her back. She missed the soft, disbelieving smile that crossed his face. "Just wanted t'check on ya. 's kinda weird bein' back in my stinky ol' bachelor pad with just me 'n Pap."

"I bet," Frisk said, petting the fur on his collar. "I wish we could find another bed big enough for you. Mine's been in that room for a couple of centuries at the very least, so it's not going anywhere."

He snorted. "I don't think my room's even big enough ta hold it. The whole room'd just be bed." They both considered this, and he said, "Honestly, I'd be okay with that," to which she had to nod agreement.

It was quiet, except for the snoring next door. "Is Papyrus still asleep?" asked Frisk.

"Yeah. I hope Tori got the wagons taken care of so we can feed 'im tomorrow." Sans lifted both pillows back onto the bed. "I'd be okay, 'cept ya went an' got me used to eatin' every day, so..."

"I'm not sorry." Frisk yawned. She was getting hungry for something more substantial than apples, but knew better than to ask. It was impossible to forget the fear of not knowing when she'd eat again; she had to remind herself that she wouldn't die from missing a couple of meals, and that the monsters had been living this way for years. If she had her way, it wouldn't be for much longer!

Sans was playing with the ends of her hair. "So..."

"Mm-hmm." Despite herself, Frisk was relaxing, her legs complaining about having to keep her upright. It'd been a very long day, and the little tugs on her scalp felt wonderful.

The giant skeleton nodded vaguely. "Alphys wants t'see ya," he mumbled. "She missed you, a'course, but she mostly doesn't believe me 'bout your magic bein' super-duper amazing." Frisk made a pleasantly indifferent sound. "And..." She felt him tense up. "You were right."

"About what?" she asked, opening her eyes, not quite looking up at him.

"Alphys checked my LV—ever heard of it?" She shook her head. "It stands for 'level of violence,' which is exactly what it sounds like. Monsters figured out how ta quantify it a long time ago, 'n mine's been 20 for years an' years. If it could go higher than that, I'd probably be in the forties or fifties by now. Well..." Deep breath. "It's gone down to 17."

"Hm." Frisk scratched her nose where a few white strands were tickling it. "Is it usually difficult to lower it?"

That must not have been the reaction Sans was looking for: he growled at her under his breath, withdrawing his hand. "It's not 'difficult,' kitten-pants, it's impossible. LV is what it is. There's no take-backs on killin' people. I shouldn't be so spoiled by livin' in a nice place with a nice lady an' nice food that I somehow got less evil. It doesn't work like that."

"You're not evil, Sans. You're not perfect, and you have done a lot of terrible things—" He grunted, and she persisted, "—but that doesn't mean you're irredeemable. If you were, you wouldn't care if you were evil or not."

He grunted again, which was not the answer she was looking for. Frisk poked his sternum. "I think you're looking at it the wrong way. You've been absorbing years of accumulated negativity down here, haven't you? What if you've been...I don't know, negating it with better emotions, or maybe sloughing it off like Gaster said? Would that account for your LV going down?"

He just shrugged, and she retaliated with more poking. "Then tell me this: did you kill anyone yesterday, before Undyne attacked you?"

His massive ribcage swelled, carrying her outward and back in as he sighed. "No. One guy said somethin' gross, so I stabbed 'im in the foot. That was it."

She believed him. "And if you'd encountered him a month ago, would you only have stabbed him in the foot?"

The orange of his eyes dimmed. "...No. I'd'a killed him an' all of his buddies, no questions asked."

"All right, then." Frisk absently ran a finger down his ribs, pausing halfway down as he twitched. Was he ticklish? "That's another thing: if your magic's poisonous, why didn't I get sick and die when you gave me some of it?"

The skeleton laughed, short and harsh, nudging her hand away. "I barely even know how ya got it in the first place, sweetheart. Don't ask me why it worked or didn't work a certain way. 'm still not okay with just goin' for it the ol'-fashioned way an' hopin' you'll be fine."

That was the second time he'd called her that. Frisk's heart was in her throat. There was no wine or home-ground advantage here; she had to jump right in. "So..." She tried to sound playful, and was pretty sure she just sounded nervous. "Is that a 'no' after all? You don't ever want to try it? I know you haven't had much chance to practice what I asked, but..."

He had stopped moving—no breathing, nothing. The priestess pulled back a little. "Sans?"

"Then what?" he rumbled.

Frisk's hackles rose. "What do you mean, 'then what'?"

"I mean, what happens if we do it 'n I don't kill ya? Then what?"

It was a reasonable question, and she'd just been telling herself they needed to talk about it. Now that she had to answer, though, her mind was a roaring blank. "...Then...that would be...good?"

His hand flattened across her back and shoulders. "Yeah. At the very least, you could cross it off the list of stuff that's gotta happen for monsters t'go free. Sucks that gettin' knocked up is part of the deal.” Snort. “Maybe it's not too late ta find someone you'd actually want the kid to look like. You've still got a zillion guys ta pick from. There's, what, a month left before the timing starts t'get—"

The priestess pushed away hard, ignoring the pain in her chest. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, sitting back to stare up at him. "Is it supposed to be some kind of joke? Or are you saying I'd sleep with anyone in order to make everything else happen?"

He blinked, realizing exactly what he'd said. "Uh. When ya put it like that..." The skeleton tried to shrug. "Heh. Nah, I was...I was just kiddin'."

"No, you weren't!" She jerked a hand upward and snapped her fingers twice, creating a bubble in which she could convey her thoughts at the proper volume. "I know what a joke sounds like, and that wasn't it!"

Sans scratched the back of his skull, bone grating on bone. "Fuck. I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean what?" Frisk was too tired and hormonal for this! "What kind of shallow, selfish, irresponsible moron do you think I am, Sans?!"

"I don't!" The giant skeleton held up his hands, scooting back against the wall. "Wouldja calm down? Yer not dumb, or shallow, or whatever, and ya gotta be the least selfish person ever! Jus' forget about it, okay?"

"No!" She glared at him till he couldn't meet her eyes. "What were you trying to say? Was it, 'Frisk, I am concerned that you're rushing a major life decision for both of us based on something someone told you at a street fair, and I would like to discuss the long-term consequences, such as the ramifications of a child being half human and half boss monster'?"

"Yes! Exactly! ...Pretty much!"

"Then why didn't you say that? Why frame it as me being a shallow, selfish, irresponsible moron?!" The pain in her chest was getting worse. "No, don't answer that! Here's a better question: are you really that insecure? Do you honestly believe that the only reason anyone could ever love you was because they had to?!"

Sans looked as if the universe had crashed to a standstill. His eyes had gone blank, and his mouth moved a little, but nothing came out.

Frisk cleared her throat and swept her hair behind her ears, face burning. "I know you can't change how you think of yourself overnight, but until you do, I'm not going to sit here and let you insult me or you like that," she said, soft but firm. "Is that understood?"

No answer. His gobsmacked expression didn't change; in fact, he wasn't moving at all.

Despite herself, Frisk wanted to laugh. Poor Sans. He hadn't expected that word, had he? Purely to snap him out of it, the priestess said, "If you really can't make up your mind, then tell me so I can find someone e—"

"No!"

It was Frisk's turn to sit very still as the echoes died away. The boss monster glanced up at the barrier. He shook his head violently, scrubbed his face in both hands, and let his head drop back against the wall. "Look, I'm...I didn't think I was still so damn scared, okay? I thought I was gettin' over it, but when we're actually talkin' about this stuff, I—"

"You don't think I'm scared? I'm the one who's having a child!" If she had to spell it out for him further, then so be it: "Listen to me, Sans. I'm not doing any of this because a fortune told me to. It just helped me figure out how to get what I already wanted. Do you understand?"

His sockets slowly widened, his entire skull reddening, and now her face was hot again. "It's your turn to say something," Frisk mumbled.

Her apprentice rolled his head sideways, eyes flicking toward her, as if he'd scare her off by looking for too long. "So...ya really..." His voice faded and didn't come back.

Frisk desperately wanted to hug him again. Instead, she sighed, rubbed her breastbone – was it heartburn? – and summoned all her priestessliness to say, "Here's what I'd like to happen, Sans. We'll still be friends, I'll be your teacher, and you'll remain my bodyguard until we both decide otherwise. If you make up your mind and decide you want more than that,you need to tell me when you're ready. I won't bother you about it again."

Sans shifted his weight, but didn't answer. The priestess turned onto her side away from him, cuddling a pillow to her midsection—stress always made her cramps worse. "It's very late. In fact, at this point, it's very early. Please go and see if the wagons have been brought in, and have the gifts and the herbal supplies moved to Snowdin. The food can be distributed wherever it's most needed." She didn't hold in a yawn. "I'm going to sleep in for as long as Undyne lets me. We'll come to your house as soon as we're both up. All right?"

No response. "All right," she said. A click of her tongue, and the barrier was gone. Frisk got under the covers, rearranging the other pillow under her head. "Turn out the light, please."

Silence. The light clicked off. She heard him move toward the bed; something smooth touched her cheek, and without thinking, Frisk reached up and clasped his forefinger. "Good night, Sans."

His hand slipped away. Her chest hurt so much that she wanted to cry again.

...He hadn't gotten up yet. Could he tell that she didn't mean the calm, logical things she'd said, and how much she wanted him to stay?

No, it wasn't his job to read her mind, and at least one of them had to be sensible about all of this. Frisk stayed quiet, burying her face in the pillow as she heard him climb to his feet.

But instead of the whisper of magic taking him away, there came a shuffling sound and a soft thump, and another shuffle and thump; a whooshing sound, the smell of leather—the boss monster was removing his slippers and his overcoat, tossing them on the floor. Frisk sat up, trying to see him in the total darkness. "Sans, what are you—"

There was a strange feeling in the air, and a sort of grunting sound, analogous to a human trying to break wind. "There. Think I got it," he said after a moment.

That was strange; he hadn't moved, but his voice sounded much closer. Thoroughly confused, Frisk edged away as he sat down on the bed. The pain in her chest had almost disappeared, but she forgot to breathe as Sans shifted even closer. The mattress creaked, and his shoulder bumped hers as he reached across her lap, resting his weight on her other side and bringing his face just a few inches away.

Frisk's heart was thumping so hard that she couldn't think straight; she didn't understand what was so different about him until she reached up to touch his cheekbone, just below the light from his sockets. Suddenly, it hit her: she could spread her fingers and cover almost the entire side of his face. "You shrunk?" she squeaked.

Sans chuckled again, and Frisk felt-lightheaded. "Ya wanted me t'work on that, right?" He placed his human-sized hand on hers. "Ta-da." Pause. "Man. It's like wearin' clothes that're way too tight. Dunno how long I can keep this up."

Still in disbelief, the priestess rubbed her thumb across his nasal ridge, feeling his breath on her forearm. That explained why his eyes were only about a foot above hers now—it was convenient, but extremely disconcerting, to say the least.

"Till then..." He took her wrist. "Here's somethin' else I wanna try."

Frisk shook her head. "What do you mean? Something like—yeep!"

"Shit!" Sans dropped her hand like a piece of red-hot metal. "Did I bite ya? 'm sorry, I—"

"No! No, I just thought..." She tried to look at her palm, which of course she couldn't in the dark, wondering if she was losing her mind.

Sans let his head drop to her shoulder; she had the impression that he was getting ahold of himself before he sat back up and reclaimed her hand. Frisk tried not to jump as it happened again: he pressed her palm to his mouth, and instead of bone, she felt something warm and soft, exactly as if he'd kissed it.

She now had no idea what to say or what to expect. It was a huge relief to be drawn safely against him, his arms winding around her, stroking her hair and down her back. "So, yeah," he murmured into her hair.

At this size, his touch was a little less gentle than usual, not as light or careful, and he was holding her tighter. Her heart was doing the glued-together thing again; like every other part of her body, it reveled in being held like this, but it wanted her to move even closer and let him squeeze her harder. "Yes?" she managed.

"So...what all did you want me t'do again? Fix the size thing, make up my mind, quit hatin' myself?" The bones of his arms and ribs were starting to dig into her as his grip tightened. "Is..." He exhaled. "I still don't like me that much, so...is two outta three okay?"

Frisk's heart soared. She put her arms around him – all the way, for once – and let him bury his face in her neck, nearly crushing her against his ribcage. He was definitely hurting her now, but she didn't care—if anything, it wasn't enough. "Maybe," she said into his shoulder, playing with the folds of his shirt, which he obviously hadn't figured out how to downscale with the rest of him. "You don't have to be as confident as Papyrus, but are you willing to at least tolerate yourself?"

The skeleton shook his head a little, as if trying to rattle the words loose, then raised it enough to say, "I 'unno. 'm pretty lazy, an' it sounds like a lotta work."

"There you go again!" Frisk tugged on the shirt for emphasis. "You're not lazy. You've done so much for me and for the other monsters—would it kill you to do something for your sake?"

A long pause, ending on a shaky sigh. "Can I start with yer sake, maybe work up to mine?"

She closed her eyes, melting a little. "Deal." It was incredibly tempting to tell him how cute he was, but she didn't want to risk embarrassing him enough to start a full-blown pout. And as long as they were doing this... "Would you turn the light back on, please?"

A short pause. "Don't wanna."

"Why?" Inspiration struck: "I know I look awful, but you can just close your eyes."

"Wha—what kind of stupid crap is that? You—"

"Ha! You see?" She poked him in a random rib. "See what it's like?"

"Ha, ha, lady," Sans growled in her ear, making her pulse flutter again. He shifted his weight without letting her go. "'s not you, dummy. 'Sides, I can see pretty well in the dark already, 'member? I just figure I look goofy as hell, all bones and then this fleshy stuff hangin' off my mouth. At least ya can't see my tongue when I've got it out."

"Your...oh." Frisk's face was even warmer. "So that's what that was." Well, that was good to know. If he was worrying about how he looked with lips on, then that meant he planned to keep them on, which meant...

"Yep. I figured it out from bein' human. Wasn't that hard." Sans ran his phalanges over her scalp, and stopped dead at the sound she made. "Wouldja knock it off? I can't think straight when ya do that."

"Do what?" A sudden, kittenish impulse made Frisk run her nail down the back of his skull.

He growled again, much deeper. "That does it." Before she could react. Sans' fingers wound themselves into her hair, metacarpals spread in a loose grasp on the back of her head. She swallowed very hard, but let him tip her face up to his and lean in. His mouth brushed her lips, the lightest touch—

Frisk made another small sound, and to her frustration, his head snapped up. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "'s not my fault I don't know what I'm doin', I'm just tryin' not ta—"

He stopped as Frisk took his head in both hands. "Nothing's wrong. Now do it again," she whispered.

With a blink, and a deep breath, Sans let her pull him down to touch mouths again, but only for a moment before he ducked his head and dropped both hands for the first time. "You know...maybe this ain't such a good idea." She'd never heard him sound like this—not angry, but so self-conscious that he couldn't bring himself to look at her, even in the dark. "There's gotta be other stuff I can do fer—"

"Sans," she said, and when his eyes cut back to her, Frisk rose on her knees, groped around for the back of his skull, and leaned down to kiss him so hard that he had to catch himself before she knocked him over. Whatever magic he was using felt real enough to her: warm and yielding, it offered just enough resistance for him to kiss her back as his arms came up again, almost shyly.

She enjoyed the slow, deliberate movements for several seconds, then paused, silently daring him to stop; she was almost immediately rewarded with a hand threading its way back into her hair, pulling hard enough for a very nice twinge of pain. His other arm circled her waist, and Frisk scowled as his head moved down again. But a moment later, something sharp grazed her neck, and she cried out, grabbing blindly to keep him there.

Luckily, Sans seemed to have gotten the point. He chuckled, an almost predatory sound; something hot and damp trailed up the curve of her throat and along her jawline, his grip on her hair holding her in place so he could lick her neck again, and again, pressing his tongue hard enough to send chills and heat racing through her.

The boss monster let his teeth drift over her skin once more, a little edge of fear sharpening the pleasure. He nipped here and there, careful to lick anywhere he'd bitten too hard, until he misjudged and made her gasp aloud. When he paused to check on her, Frisk shook her head and leaned into him, humming the tiniest bit of encouragement.

That was all the invitation he needed: the world spun as Sans lowered her to the mattress, shoving the pillows aside and discreetly hitching up his baggy trousers. Frisk allowed him to settle himself most of the way on top of her, breathing deeply into the crook of her neck and giving it a few gentle laps. "You didn't mean it, didja?" he said, barely audible.

The priestess swallowed, trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. "I don't—"

He nuzzled her cheek, his phalanges tracing her collarbone. "I know ya didn't really mean it, findin' someone else if I couldn't make up my mind, 's just kinda..."

Frisk sighed impatiently. "I meant literally everything I said except for that."

Tap, tap went his fingers on her shoulder. "Everythin', huh?"

"All of it." Frisk rested her cheek on him. Compared to the incident in the bathroom, when all that had set him off was a glimpse of bare skin, he seemed in complete control of himself; maybe that was another reason he'd wanted the lights off. Either way, she wondered what would happen now. Was he going to go back to his house right away? Cuddle with her till Undyne got up? At this time of the month, it wasn't as if they could—

"'Kay," said Sans, with a different note in his voice. He shifted upward and kissed her again, more confident. Frisk started to speak, but forgot it when his tongue flicked against her lower lip, his hand working its way under her head. Her arms draped around his shoulders as her lips parted, and the feeling of his tongue sliding into her mouth made her whole body turn to plaster itself against him.

Letting him taste her was so absorbing that it took Frisk a minute to realize what his other hand was doing. The backs of his fingers stroked down her neck and along her collarbone, but they didn't stop there; his phalanges deliberately traced the side of her breast, and she was tingling in anticipation when his hand kept right on going to her waist, reaching under her thigh to pull it up so he could—

Frisk went rigid and shoved at his clavicle. The moment her mouth was free, she emitted a steady stream of "Waitwaitwaitwait!"s that brought him up short.

Very reluctantly, he sat up, and she grabbed a pillow to hold between them as an extremely ineffectual barrier. "What the fuck?" the boss monster snarled.

She could have slapped him. "Don't give me that!" she snarled right back. "No one said we were going any further than that, and we can't right now!"

Sans was panting so hard that she could feel it heating the entire pillow. "Okay," he said, trying very poorly to sound reasonable. "Right. Asgore, destiny, can't get knocked up yet blah blah—"

Well, at least she was too angry to be embarrassed. "It's not just that! I've got my period, Sans. You know, menstruation? Did you come across it in any of my books?"

He blinked again, this time in thought. "Yeah. Is that how you say that word? I think I was drunk when I read about it." He shook his head. "So you're...what now?"

God damn it. "I'm bleeding from the exact place where you were going. It's technically possible to go ahead and have sex anyway, but I'm tired, and it already hurts a little, and it would make a horrible mess, and I would completely hate it. That's why the answer is 'no' for at least four or five more days, and then there's Asgore and destiny blah blah. Understood?"

Sans' ardor seemed to have cooled. "Yeah, I get it," he said grudgingly. "Here, close yer eyes."

Frisk thought he was trying to go in for another kiss, but a moment later, the light clicked on. From behind the pillow, she felt another strange pulse of magic. "There. Man, that's better." His clothes shuffled; when her eyes had adjusted enough to look at him, he was back to his usual stature.

She waited, very patiently, and he eventually glanced at her. "So...d'ya want me ta leave?" A beat of silence. "Forever?"

"Of course not, unless you want me to think that you're not interested anymore," Frisk said before she could stop herself.

Squint. Glare. "Is this another thing where you're makin' up stupid crap ta prove a point?" She looked away, and Sans smacked his forehead. "Shit on a brick! No, I'm not ditchin' you 'cause I can't get laid right this second! I just figured..." Squirm. "That was really...y'know..." He sat down again, face glowing. "'m sorry. Did I hurt ya?"

Frisk winced. Now that the mood was officially gone, her neck was starting to feel distinctly chewed-upon, but she didn't want to talk about that. "No, I just meant my period. It's normal to have some pain or discomfort as your body's getting rid of certain things. Basically, it's Nature's punishment for not having a baby yet."

"Wow. That sucks big time." Scratch, scratch. "So...what can I do right now to not get in any more trouble?" he asked slowly.

The priestess gave him a wan smile. "That's an excellent question, but the answer is that you're not really in trouble. If you hadn't stopped when I said to..." She drew a finger across her throat. "But you did, and the rest of it was...fine." She smiled wider, though she couldn't quite look at him. "I think we should go to sleep now."

“Agreed.” Her heart sank as Sans stuck his feet into his slippers and retrieved his overcoat. The lamp clicked off. "Don' mind me," he said abruptly, and turned onto his side, the orange light of his eyes fading.

Frisk sat there for a moment, then climbed over the second pillow, to where his head was resting on the floor. "Good night," she said, and pulled the covers loose from the foot of the bed to get under them from the wrong end.

There was no response, but she felt him reach over to touch her cheek again. She squeezed his forefinger again as his hand rested on the bed; neither of them quite let go as they lay back down, and both swiftly fell asleep.

 ~

 Bam. Babam. BambamBANG went the door.

Frisk jerked awake as light streamed in from the hallway. "What's wrong?" demanded Undyne. "Are you sick, or—"

There was a perfectly frozen moment as the Royal Guard Captain, in her fish-print pajamas and comfiest eyepatch, stared at the High Priestess, resplendent in her rumpled nightgown and a severe case of bed-head, and then at the bleary skeleton on the floor. Then there was no skeleton on the floor, only Frisk reaching for the lamp. Undyne blinked. "Uh..."

"Good morning," Frisk said, not being casual or sheepish, because why would she? "What time is it?"

Undyne scratched her neck, sweeping her loose hair aside. "It's almost eight o'clock. Don't expect me to let you sleep this late again." She glanced at the floor, as if doubting herself. "Rough night?"

Frisk looked at her, and she said, "Yes."

"That sucks." The fish monster came into the room and opened Frisk's satchel. "Not a lot to pick from, is there? You could borrow some of my stuff, but I don't think anything would fit. You're still pretty shrimpy."

"I'd argue if I could." Frisk yawned. "I'll see if I can go shopping later. In the meantime, I should have at least one clean outfit left."

Undyne did a quick, professional sniff test, locating the gown in question and turning to hand it to her. "Here. We've got a busy day. The wagons are ready to be unloaded, and I already had 'em take out...the food...for. Uh." Her eye widened. "That's...wow."

The priestess had been feeling fairly confident that she'd avoided any awkward questions for the moment, though she was dreading the hints Undyne would drop when they got to Sans' house; that wisp of security evaporated under the Captain's stare. "Wow," she said again. "I...damn! Seriously?!"

Frisk had no idea what she—oh. Oh, God. Oh, no. No no no no no—

Undyne had the decency to let Frisk run to the bathroom and stare at herself in the mirror for the count of twenty; then she sauntered in, allowing the human time to snatch her collar up to her chin. "Yep," said Undyne. "Here's your dress." She set it on the counter.

Frisk had another pathetic little hope that that was it, until she glanced in the mirror and saw that her friend's face was completely contorted with the effort of not grinning her giant, toothy, giant grin all over the place. "Really?" Undyne asked rhetorically.

"Shut up." Frisk stared dully at the bruises and occasional tooth mark ringing her neck. "Please, please shut up."

"Pffft! Like I have to say anything!"

"Shut up, please!"

Undyne was shaking her head, not as a threat so much as sheer disbelief. "I—seriously? No offense, but, Sans? I don't believe this!" Her grin faded a little. "Well...” She shrugged. “Not that it's anyone else's business, but just so you know, this is gonna mess some people up pretty bad." The grin faded to a smirk. "There's no way we can tell Her Majesty about this, or she'll turn him into a million toothpicks." It faded a little more. "I dunno how serious you guys are, but..." The smile was gone. "I don't think His Majesty would take it that well."

"Undyne, please don't tell anyone yet," Frisk said urgently. "Sans and I agreed not to let things get too far before I've spoken to Asgore about a peace treaty, and don't give me that look! This is as far as we got!"

The Captain held up her hands. "All right! All right! I know how serious you are about makin' peace, and about all of us. I won't mess that up." She straightened and gave a sort of salute, looking very stern in her pajamas and comfiest eyepatch. "My lips are sealed."

The High Priestess nodded. "Thank you." She examined her neck again in the mirror. Undyne closed the door, still shaking her head; when she was gone, Frisk finally permitted herself to smile.

#songfell #welp there we go #guess what also happened to me yesterday

[solohux]

Since we’re here may we get a thrilling conclusion to the Milo Saga pls ? Reunions, love, family, all that good stuff Thank you. Also you’re amazing keep up the good work 👍

Here it is! The third and final part of the Milo saga!

Part I & Part II

All three parts are also on AO3 as a full fic titled ‘searching through shadows and snow’

Read On AO3 ❤️

For the first time since his exile after Exegol, Ben has a dreamless night’s sleep. It’s strange to wake up without tears on his cheeks, without clutching his pillow like a lifeline as a dream of his beloved Hux burns itself onto the back of his eyelids. But there’s still an empty space beside him in his bed, inside of his heart, and Ben knows that nothing can ever fill those voids. He rolls over onto his side and faces the vacant side of the bed, running his hand over the cold sheets and trying to force himself to imagine that Hux has just risen early to make breakfast. Everything is fine, everything is fine—

Ben can’t repeat the mantra a third time. It hurts too much to tell such a lie.

Morning has broken on the little planetoid, illuminating Ben’s room in a familiar glow. It’s particularly cold this morning, making Ben wish he’d worn a long-sleeved shirt to bed instead of this short, white one.

“Dada!” Ben’s three year old son bounds into Ben’s bedroom and leaps onto the bed, scrambling to his father’s side. He looks as though he’s had a good night’s sleep, since his copper-coloured hair is messy and his blue pyjamas are twisted and wrinkled. As usual, Milo’s favourite vulptex plush is in his arms. “It’s snowing! It’s snowing!”

Ben smiles at Milo’s excitement, his brown eyes alight with childlike wonder. Their planet experiences snow a few times a year but the landscape of beautiful white never fails to make Milo want to rush out in it before Ben has had a chance to dress him properly.

“Snow!” Ben smiles, hiding his sadness from his beloved boy and sitting up in bed to take Milo into his arms. “And I guess you want to go outside to play?”

“Yeah, Dada! Now!”

“Breakfast first, sweetheart,” Ben stands up with the boy in his arms, carrying him around his bedroom as he opens the drapes and sees the white wonderland that covers the entirity of the fields that surround their solemn home. Even the beds of white poppies have disappeared underneath the inches of snowfall.

“Awwwwww. But ‘m not hungry, Dada.” Milo wriggles in Ben’s hold, tugging at his father’s dark hair as he tries to climb onto his shoulders, making Ben laugh. “Go outside now! Pwease!”

“Alright, Milo,” Ben says, never being able to deny his son once he gets a certain expression on his face—the very same one that Hux used to give Kylo whenever he wanted to get his own way. “We’ll get dressed and then go out, hm? Build a snow-droid?”

“Yeah! A BB!”

“A snow-BB. Let’s go, sweetheart.”

In less than five minutes, Ben and Milo are dressed for the snow in thick clothes and warm coats. Utilising the ways of mind manipulation, Ben has easily kept his existence a secret, wiping the minds of the market traders who operate in the small town almost fifty miles away from Ben’s quaint countryside cottage. And it also means that Ben can steal without being caught. Whilst he tries to remain in a neutral state of mind when it comes to the light and dark side of the Force, Ben struggles. Truly, Kylo Ren has never left his veins—possibly kept alive by his love for Hux.

As the pair stand on the porch in the morning sun, Milo is practically buzzing with excitement whilst Ben tries to calm him enough to put his woolly hat and gloves on but the boy is jumping up and down, stomping his little black boots on the wooden decking whilst giggling.

“Hold on, starbright,” Ben smiles, making sure Milo’s ginger hair is dry under his hat and his adorably large ears are tucked warmly away too. “We don’t want you to be too cold, do we?”

“Dadaaaa, I wanna play!”

Ben smiles, amused by Milo’s impatience.

“Come on,” and Ben takes his son’s hand as they jump off the porch together, the snow swallowing Milo up to his little knees but instead of being scared by it, the boy pulls free of Ben’s hold and trudges off as fast as he can through the thick snow as more begins to fall upon the pair in a light flurry.

Ben follows closely behind his son, watching him run and play and pick up snow to throw it above himself, only for it to cover his little head.

Milo laughs, tumbling over and landing on his bum in the snow. Ben would give anything for Hux to see how happy their beloved son is right now.

Ben. Ben! The Force calls out to Ben, piercing his mind like a cold needle. He stands up quickly, looking to the clouded skies for the source of the disturbance. It’s been a long time since he’s sensed something as monumental as this, something that is making his hands shake and his stomach twist with worry. It feels familiar, though, which is somewhat comforting but Ben’s maternal instincts run haywire as the Force won’t let him smile.

“Milo, sweetheart,” Ben says, his voice low, but his heart stops when he sees a figure in the distance, one that is staring at him and Milo, and one that has the boy frozen on the spot.

Ben’s fingers twitch, wishing he’d kept a lightsaber with him in his exile for moments such as this.

“Milo,” Ben says sternly, standing behind his son. “We’re going inside.”

But the boy doesn’t move. Ben’s knees tremble; it this the Shadow Man who has been haunting Milo’s dreams? Is it another Snoke come to turn the newest Solo against his family just as he did with Ben? No. Never. Ben would die before he allowed anything to ever hurt his son. He owes it to Hux to love and defend their precious boy with everything he has.

But the man in the distance is getting closer. Ben skids to his knees in the freezing snow in front of Milo, finding his face looking anything but afraid as one would expect a child to look when staring down the man of his nightmares.

“Milo? Milo, look at Daddy,” Ben says, putting his hands on the boy’s cold, blushing cheeks in a vain attempt to draw his gaze away from the approaching menace. “What is it? Starbright, talk to me.”

Milo blinks but his brown eyes don’t stray from their path. He raises his mitten-clad hand and tries to point at the figure, uttering one word that sends Ben’s heart into overdrive, “Papa.”

It can’t be. Ben frowns, turning around to look back over his shoulder, seeing the man that doesn’t look like a monster at all.

He looks like an angel, gliding across the snow-covered ground with a copper halo around his head, his skin so ethereally pale and familiar that Ben can’t find any words to describe the man’s beautiful presence.

“No…” Ben whispers, taking hold of Milo and standing up with the boy sitting on his hip, his feet walking forwards of their own accord towards the snow-angel.

It’s Hux. It’s his Armitage Hux, here and present and so very alive. Ben chokes on his words.

Even when they’re within arm’s reach of each other, Ben still can’t permit himself to believe it. He’s already been blessed with a second chance at life, bearing such a beautifully bright baby boy, for his lover to be back too.

“Daddy,” Milo says, patting Ben’s cheek. “It’s Papa?”

Ben can’t take his eyes from Hux. He still looks the same as he did almost four years to the day since they last saw one another, sharing a kiss goodbye as Kylo Ren departed for Kef Bir, both unaware of what would transpire once their hands left each other’s and their destines diverged. The Hux in front of Ben’s tear-filled eyes is still as handsome as ever, his pale eyes just as piercing and his body just as tall and lithe. Even without the greatcoat and uniform, he’s still the image of power to Ben’s eyes, he’s still the only constant that has ever blessed Ben’s messy and lonely life.

He’s saved.

“Yeah, Milo,” Ben sighs. “It’s Papa.”

Hux’s shoulders shake as the tears fall, no doubt hurting his cheeks as they fall from his eyes and onto his freezing cold skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He takes another step closer as Ben sets Milo down in the snow, the boy bringing his thumb up to nibble on the soft material of his mitten whilst his other hand is held in Ben’s.

“Milo,” Hux says, beaming as he utters his son’s name for the first time. Ben’s chest clenches, watching Hux kneel down to Milo’s level; Ben knew that their son looked most like Hux but seeing the two together now, Ben can’t believe just how much of Hux is in their son. “My clever, brave boy. We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“When I’m asleep,” Milo nods. “You said you would be here soon.”

“And here I am, darling,” Hux says. He looks up to Ben, smiling. “Here I am.”

“Hux…” Ben sobs, but Hux is standing and leaping in to catch him in an embrace before his knees give way beneath the weight of shock and relief that have fallen upon his shoulders like a collapsing building. It’s immense, it’s overwhelming but it’s the happiest that Ben has ever felt.

“Ren,” Hux whispers Ben’s once-name into his ear as they hug so tightly that nothing can get between them, and Ben feels his soul soar; Kylo Ren was never truly dead anyway. “My darling. I love you, I love you so much.”

“I-I love you,” Ben—Ren—cries. “Y-you were killed.”

“Death would never keep us apart, my darling. I’ve travelled across the galaxy in search of you. And it’s because of our son’s power with the Force that I was able to find you.”

“Don’t cry, Dada,” Milo tugs at Ben’s trouser leg and makes them pull apart. “It’s happy!”

“I know, starbright,” Ben sniffles, picking his son up and holding him between his parents, embraced by them both for the first time in his life. “I’m so happy. So happy.”

“I want to know everything,” Hux says, wrapping his arms around Ben and hugging both his lover and their son at the same time. “Everything, Ren.”

“It’s…uh. Ben.”

“Ben,” Hux repeats, raising his eyebrows but the smile doesn’t fade from his face. “As you wish. I want to hear everything about you and our son, Ben.”

“Can Papa stay for breakfast, Daddy?” Milo asks excitedly.

Ben takes Hux’s hand, leading him back to his house, “Papa is going to stay forever.”

Home was never a place for Ben Solo or for Kylo Ren; it was always Armitage Hux.

#kylux #kylux babies #post tros #post mpreg #m:writing

[intruality-overlord]

Why Are We (Best) Friends?

Warnings: excessive swearing, alcoholism, mentions of drugs, drug use, suggestive humor, implied sexual content (no smut), some gore descriptions. Generally, Remus stuff.

Taglist: @blogging-time @veraisnotfine @littlestr @jessibbb @broken-pens @hi-its-tutty @idkanameatall @moxiety--sanders101 @theyluna-womoon

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist! Updates every Wednesday/Thursday. *yeets fluff for thy soul’s consumption*

Chapter Six: Ducks

Bubble Bath

August 14th, 2018.

“Five? Normally you’re sated by three,” Patton said incredulously.

Sloshing water over the tub’s edge, their knees knocked together. Patton and Remus’s bones had become saturated with warm water, and the bubbles were seeping in now too.

“I got worked up badly.”

“But five!—“ Patton’s rasping voice broke into a cough. Remus reached out on impulse to touch his throat as if to soothe. It at least brought comfort as Patton pressed into the heat of his palm. The action encouraged Remus to curl his fingers, but he didn’t dare apply any pressure. Turning relaxed and pliable, the full, bowling ball weight of Patton’s head fell trustingly in his grip. Even his eyes slipped closed, the little puppy.

(Poor, touch starved thing, taking every morsel of affection so hungrily like it could cure years of neglect.)

“I’m sorry,” he sincerely said, “I shouldn’t of— I, I never should have asked this of you.” Gaze settling on the froth of bubbles steadily dissolving in the water, his hand fell away.

Only for Patton to catch it. He brought Remus’s hand to his lips, kissing the back like a gentleman. He shook his head fondly. “I know I can say no. Stop worrying.”

“Yeah, but still, Moonshine. I should restrain myself more—”

Sparing his tender throat, Patton abandoned his voice in favour of booping Remus’s nose. That shut him up. He choked on a surprised laugh, tossing his head back. Wanting to giggle himself, Patton just smiled at him while his stomach clenched. When Remus stopped laughing, he winced and rubbed the back of his neck.

Patton tugged Remus forward by his hand still clasped in his, and positioned him with his back to his chest. Deft hands delicately came to hold Remus’s neck, just beneath his jaw. His thumbs threaded into the baby hairs at his nape. (The brief thought of being strangled to death, his body left floating in the bathtub framed as a tragic, accidental drowning crossed his mind. Remus had the compulsion to blurt it out, yet ground his teeth.) Tilting his head just so… Click-ck! And the other way… Cra-a-ack. Air trapped between the segments popped like thunder. Shivers ran through him, soothing the kink in his neck, but consequently triggering a different kink (one he didn’t even know he had until right then). “God, I didn’t realise I needed that,” he sighed appreciatively.

Migrating, Patton settled one hand on Remus’s ribs flexing from the aftershocks of his boisterous, rumbling laughter. Patton could feel Remus’s scurrying rabbit heart. De-dum, de-dum— de-de-de-dum, dum. De-dum. Remus’s rabbit heart hopped beneath his palm. Loud, rough, and wild, it nudged at Patton affectionately. His heart had always beaten a little faster, a little harder. A little more passionate than it should, leading it to stumble and hiccup occasionally. Every beat, his heart plucked his muscles like the strings of a viola, each pizzicato note a jolt singing through his body. In contrast, the base of his lungs took short yet deep breaths. Wisps of curly, deep cinnamon seasoned, caramel chest hair grasped and coiled around Patton’s fingertips.

Then, trying to coax out another laugh, Patton ruffled his hair.

And white powder clinging on got displaced from Remus’s fringe, sprinkling the water and suds.

Patton gasped, “That’s why!” (The “I should’ve known” went unsaid.) Being so used to seeing that streak of silver, Patton had forgotten entirely how and why it was there in the first place.

…

“I tried to distract myself but the two weren’t a good combination.”

Trust

February 7th, 2019.

Glue splattered on Patton’s face as soon as he popped up in Remus’s room. (Well, he thought it was something else first, but quickly noticed it was stone cold, so no.) Fucking perfect. Patton had just walked in on the funeral of a monstrous glob of red and white paper mache of intimidating stature. It had a fresh, gaping, fist sized hole in it, dripping like a miscellaneous orifice.

Mindlessly munching on a pencil, Remus stood back to scrutinise his work. That wouldn’t do. Remus summoned his Morningstar over his shoulder. “How do you like this, katoptronophile?!” Remus cackled. His morningstar ploughed through the mache mound vaguely where a head would be in one swift(ish) swing. More pulp splattered Patton’s face.

“Really, Remouse?” He whined exasperatedly. Only just noticing him, Remus chirped, “Patton! Could you help me hide the body? I don’t have enough stomach acid to dissolve the whole corpse. Wait—” Remus spat out his chew toy of a pencil, carving “ass” into the remaining mulch puddle like a signature. “Hope Double Dee won’t be too heartbroken,” he muttered thoughtfully, “Eh, whatever.”

“Dear lord, you’re high as a kite.”

“High as a kite? Kites can’t go to space!” Remus babbled, doing a little theatrical twirl. “Think of what kind of aliens you can find in space! Do you think any of them have tentacles?!” Losing his balance, he stumbled into Patton slumping on his shoulder. Unbothered, Patton patiently waited for Remus to right himself whenever he wanted.

“Did you get stuck into the cookie jar again?” Patton asked casually as he wiped and flicked off various substances from his face and glasses. Doing a double take, that red better not be blood. Using blood sweat and tears isn’t ethical, they’ve talked about this!

“What? No! Of course not! Now, Puppy, why have you got a rabbit on your head and haven’t even introduced me yet?! Who’s this little handsome little fella? He looks like a George,” and Remus dissolved into a fountain of cooing while he ran his fingers through Patton’s hair. (Patton tried not to fucking moan at how good his nails felt scraping against his scalp.)

“Oh, the shrooms…” Patton sighed, “His name is Harold. Harold George—“

“The third! I remember now! How could I forget you? You’re so soft.”

Indulging Remus was Patton’s favourite hobby.

“God, you’re so soft I wanna strangle you and skin you so I can have your soft fur all to myself,” Remus ranted and Patton tried not to show fear. It wasn’t that hard, really... Mostly because he was trying even harder to choke down a begging whimper scrambling onto his tongue. Remus grabbed chunks of his hair in each fist tugging lightly. Patton reminded himself that they weren’t impulses Remus would act on and that he had these thoughts constantly just didn’t tend to share them. “But I won’t cause you’re just too cute, my little mammal brethren.”

Patton wasn’t as cute as his bunny, he thought, but he’d take the compliment.

“Hey do you want some?” Remus offered his pencil to “Harold.”

…

“Fine, suit yourself.” And he ate the rest like a carrot.

Shoulders slacking, Patton huffed fondly.

“I kind of wish you were like this— open— more…” Patton smoothed down Remus’s wrinkled clothes. “I hope you know you don’t need to filter everything you say,” he continued as he fixed his mussed hair with practiced hands. “It doesn’t change anything. You’re my best friend. I’ll never stop loving you, all of you. I don’t love you in spite of your so-called flaws, I love those parts of you just as much as the rest of you.”

That’s what true love means, whatever form it shall take.

Patton made a mental note to tell him that again once he came down. (Sometime, eventually…)

Remus wrapped him in a bear hug, squeezing just tight enough that he felt his ribs flex, but not painfully. “Whoa,” Remus said when he pulled back, eyes wide, “You should keep your skin on, bones and muscle isn’t a good look for you.”

“Silly Snow Bunny.”

Butterfly Kisses

April 16th, 2019.

“You know, once Thomas asked us all to say “I love you” to each other.”

Remus looked up from his sketchbook that rested on Patton’s arm looped around him. It was a typical day bundled in cat and kraken onesies respectively.

“…yeah?” He encouraged him to continue. How Patton’s pitch dropped made Remus draw suspenseful suspicions. Taking a sip of his rum, Patton prepared himself for potential embarrassment. He tapped his glass, listening to the quiet ringing it sang.

“I… I told them all that I loved them. So much. And I really meant it,” Patton said, earnestness framing his words. “I told them that I would give them all butterfly kisses,” Patton chuckled at his own stupid, emotional-ness, “which they ignored, of course.”

Remus leaned backwards into Patton’s chest, trading comfort in the currency of body heat. Peach pink lips mulling over heavy words came into view as Remus tipped his head back. He rested his head on his collarbone, and Patton’s breath rustled his hair. He listened intently— Listened closer to these next heavy words than Patton’s previous ramblings. “But—” Patton swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing, “But Logan could hardly get out the words, Roman was really reluctant, and Virgil refused to say it entirely.”

“Well, I love you,” Remus said, no hesitation.

Patton was star struck.

“R-really?”

“You’re my best friend. Of course I do,” Remus said like it was a no brainer— Since it was.

Voice muffled in his next sip, Patton softly said, “You’re my best friend, too.” He was smiling so much, and ended up biting the glass he hid behind. Mustn’t giggle and disturb the lake of quaint quiet with ripples.

“Butterfly kisses are the ones with the eyelashes, right?”

“Uh-m, yea— huh?”

In Patton’s lap, he craned his neck over his shoulder rather than swiveling around. Leaning in, warm huffs of air skating across their skin, he fluttered his eyelashes against Patton’s cheek. His nose prodded lightly at Patton’s jaw. Specks of white powder dusted onto his cheek from Remus’s fringe, which he quickly wiped off.

Patton became still and quiet as dawn. Dawn when the moon hasn’t said goodbye, and the birds haven’t said good morning yet.

“Teacup?” Remus murmured worriedly. Did he overstep a line (drawn in chalk and scrubbed away by time)? No, no— “Thomas must remember that icecream he ate yesterday, should I fetch some from the kitchen?” Remus attempted to quickly mend.

“No…” Pin drop silence squeezed between their synced inhale and exhale.

“No, jus…” Patton drifted off, setting down his half empty glass. (In second thoughts, he hoped he hadn’t drunk enough to fray or lose this memory.) His newly empty arm draped around Remus’s torso, and Remus tugged his arms close like a well worn winter coat.

“Stay…”

Next Chapter:

#WAW(B)F? #sander sides #thomas sanders #ts sander sides #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #patton sanders #ts patton #remus sanders #ts remus #intruality #moduke #thomas sanders sides

[takaraphoenix]

For the fake exes prompt, Hijack with the house egging prompt?

‘im egging your house for a dare but your parent is a cop and they’re yelling at me so i told them that you were my ex and you wronged me and now you’re coming outside and please go along with this i don’t want to go to jail’ au

It was Halloween. Not necessarily Hiccup's favorite holiday, it was just too loud. He had never been much of a fan. So he was laying on his bed, sketching dragons while his younger step-brother was pacing the room, trying to put on his costume.

"You're a... marshmallow?", asked Hiccup curiously.

"What. No. I'm a robot", grunted Hiro offended. "You know, that big thing Tadashi is building."

Putting his sketch-book down, Hiccup took a closer look. "Right. You kind of do look like Baymax. Heh. That's adorable. Somehow, I expected something... less adorable from you."

"Why? He's our adorable little baby brother, Hiccup."

Hiro turned to glare fiercely at Tadashi as the oldest Haddock-Hamada brother was leaning against the doorway of the bedroom. Hiccup smiled faintly at them and picked his pencil up again. He loved his brothers very dearly. They had met through Hiro, who kept getting into trouble and kept getting himself and Tadashi, who always tried to bail him out, arrested. Repeatedly. Stoick Haddock, Hiccup's father, was the captain of the police station. Him and Cass Hamada started talking, about being single-parents, about their nerdy sons. And then they started talking outside of the police station, started dating. Now, Hiccup had a loving mother and two brothers.

"But you're not using Halloween as an excuse to go to another one of your bot-fights, right?"

"Tada—ashi, have some faith in your adorable little baby brother!", exclaimed Hiro offended.

Both Tadashi and Hiccup gave him an utterly unimpressed look at that, until he cracked. "Okay, okay, your accusations are not unfunded, however I actually do have plans with my friends."

"Friends", echoed Tadashi in disbelief, shaking his head. "My little baby brother, finally having friends. What are your plans then, Hiro?"

"Miguel is having a karaoke party at his place. Ever since his grandma stopped hating music, it's always a blast at their place", replied Hiro excitedly, bouncing a little.

"...Who's all going?", asked Hiccup curiously, exchanging a look with Tadashi.

"Well, Cupcake's coming. And Pippa. Monty. The twins, Caleb and Claude...", drawled Hiro.

"A—and Jamie Bennett?", asked both Tadashi and Hiccup at the same time.

"I mean, of course he is", grumbled Hiro, trying to hide his blush. "Whatever. I have places to be and cool people to hang out with. You two... stay here, be nerds, whatever."

His older brothers laughed while Hiro stormed out of the room. Teasing him was most definitely the most fun. Tadashi tilted his head as he looked at Hiccup, until Hiccup put his pen down again.

"What is it, Dashi?", asked Hiccup.

"Nothing. Just... wondering what your plans are", replied Tadashi casually before sitting down on the edge of Hiccup's bed. "Fred's throwing a costume-party. Everyone will be there. You could... come along too, you know. They'd be happy to see you."

"They're primarily your friends", grunted Hiccup and rolled his eyes.

"Okay. And why aren't you doing something with your friends then?", challenged Tadashi.

Hiccup paused at that. He had friends. But... if he was being honest, contact with them had kind of... run out, a bit. All his friends – Astrid, Snotlout, Tuffnut and Ruffnut – had gone to the sports-college. Astrid even had a boyfriend now; Eret. Hiccup should probably spend more time with his friends, but he felt like they were drifting apart; different interests, different colleges. As happened a lot with high school friendships, guessed Hiccup. Fishlegs, he was attending SFIT. The two had always been best friend, but nowadays Fishlegs was quite distracted with his new girlfriend – Heather, a girl Astrid had befriended in college. Hiccup... had a crush; one that wasn't going to lead anywhere anyway either so that wasn't an issue.

"C'mon, Hiccup. You can't spend all evening cooped up here", prodded Tadashi. "It's Halloween."

"You say that like it means something to me", drawled Hiccup dryly. "I am... not a fan of this day. You, go and dress up and have fun with the others. I'm happy right here."

Tadashi heaved a defeated sigh. "Okay, okay. I give up. Enjoy your solitude."

Hiccup rolled his eyes as Tadashi finally left. He was perfectly fine being right here. He didn't need to be among many people. He knew if the twins were there, there was going to be a lot of alcohol and nonsense and also it was kind of a frat party... which... especially when one wasn't even from that college, didn't seem very appealing. His mind wandered a little. His kind of crush had asked him to go trick or treating, but Jack was going with his own friends and Hiccup would feel awkward being kind of a fifth wheel there. Still, the idea of seeing Jack in a costume – any costume...

Hiccup blushed and glared at his drawing. He had been drawing Jack. Again. He kept doing that. It wasn't his fault; Jack was... amazing. Jackson Overland-St. North. The adopted son of their newest teacher at SFIT – Nicholas St. North, an absolute genius inventor. Jack was attending the art-college, where Honey Lemon was going too (and Cass insisted Hiccup should go too, but Hiccup focused on his education at SFIT, dual studies seemed just too much).

Jack was breathtaking, with his sparkly brown eyes and messy hazel hair, that mischievous, impish grin of his. And oh, he was so talented. And cheeky. Whenever he came over to SFIT, mostly to visit his adopted father and bring him lunch. They talked. Sometimes, Jack and Hiccup. And Hiccup, he had developed the biggest crush on Jack, only that he didn't know how to say it.

His pen scratched sharply over the paper as he heard loud noises from downstairs.

/break\

"I dare you to egg the house."

"Eugene, no", sighed Rapunzel, shaking her head at her boyfriend.

Eugene just grinned broadly and kissed his girlfriend's cheek before turning toward their shared best friend. "C'mon, Jack. It totally is your turn. It'll be fun."

And Jack allowed himself to be dared into it. Only that when the owners noticed and came out, there was a brief moment of utter terror overcoming both Jack and Eugene. That was the police captain, Stoick Haddock. Not only captain of the police station where Jack and Eugene may or may not be semi-regular guests for entirely unjustified reasons (minor pranks! And graffiti should not count as vandalism in Jack's opinion), he was also a wall of a man, so tall and broad. His upper arms were the size of Jack's head! Absolutely terrified did the boys stand there.

"What is the meaning of this?", barked Stoick out.

His wife, Cass Hamada (oh no. She was friends with Toothiana. Jack was never going to hear the end of this!), was right behind him, looking both concerned and disappointed. Eugene winced and tried to hide behind Jack, who just rolled his eyes at him. This was a problem. It became even more of a problem when Hiccup Haddock joined them outside – and oh. Maybe Jack should have seen the relations between Captain Haddock and Jack's crush... Jack winced.

"Did you brats seriously just egg the house of the police captain?", grunted Stoick unimpressed.

"I... I... I...", stammered Jack in distress. "I did it because Hiccup broke my heart."

Everyone stared at him in utter surprise at that, especially Hiccup. Jack tried to convey his intention to the other boy. Maybe Stoick would have pity with him – Cass certainly would – if they thought this was about a bad breakup. Please. He couldn't be taken to the precinct again. Nick and Toothiana had a limit to how often they were willing to bail him out...

"What? Hiccup!", exclaimed Cass, sounding very disappointed. "Why would you-"

There was silence for a moment as Hiccup stared at Jack pointedly, before he caved. "Yes. I... broke up with him because there was this... big project I had to work on. I had no time for distraction."

"Distraction?" The disappointment seemed to grow. "Hiccup Haddock, you will go and apologize to this boy and right that. I know your studies are very important to you, but you can't keep neglecting your social life. I expect that boy to come over for dinner next week!"

She ushered Hiccup outside before, impressively enough, dragging Stoick back inside before he could put his two cents in. Hiccup looked kind of lost as he approached Jack, Eugene and Rapunzel.

"That is one way of getting a boyfriend", noted Eugene surprised. "I mean, she definitely expects the two of you to 'get back together'. Come on, Raps, let's check on Lance and leave them to it."

Rapunzel smiled amused at Jack before the couple left. Blushing, Jack ducked his head when he noticed how much Hiccup was staring at him. And okay, he did look different. White-dyed hair, blue contacts, make-up to make him look paler than normal.

"Who... are you?", asked Hiccup softly. "I mean, the costume."

"I'm... Periwinkle", muttered Jack embarrassed, tugging on his fairy-wing. "Jamie's little sister wanted to be Tinkerbell but she didn't want to do it alone. My little sister dressed up as Bobble. You know, from the Tinkerbell movies. Periwinkle is Tinkerbell's snow-fairy-twin."

Hiccup nodded, his own cheeks red too. "That's... really cute. I mean, of you, for the girls."

"Yeah, we took them trick or treating. They're with... Eugene's friend Lance", nodded Jack slowly. "So... all of that was very embarrassed. I'm sorry, that was the first thing that came to my mind."

"It's... okay. I don't know how to explain to my mom that we 'didn't make up', but..."

"I mean we could just... you know...", suggested Jack with a daring look on his face. "Get together."

"...What", whispered Hiccup stunned.

"Do you wanna go out with me?", clarified Jack, cheeks red. "I... uh... like you."

"I like you too", replied Hiccup, ruffling his hair. "I'd... heh. I'd really like that."

Smiling brightly, Jack leaned in to kiss Hiccup's cheek before taking his hand. "C'mon. We're trick or treating and afterward, we're meeting at Moana's."

"What? I'm not even in costume, I-", protested Hiccup, just to be tugged along.

"Why? You're dressed as Hot Nerd. It's one of the top costumes of the year", teased Jack.

Hiccup simply sputtered as he was being pulled along, unable to argue with his boyfriend.

#HiJack #FrostCup #Hiccup Haddock #Jack Frost #The Haddock-Hamada Family #How to Train Your Dragon (2010) #Rise of the Guardians (2012) #DreamWorks #Anonymous #Phoe's Tumblr Drabbles

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-Nine | Along the River ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Sachiko ] [ Verse: River Runs Deep ] [ Blood, death ]

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He was barely a toddler when the raids came through. When houses burned, blood ran, and lives were lost. Among the fallen were his mother and father, leaving him only with his grandmother to raise him in her little house along a creek. Memories of that night were fogged, blurred...and only faded as he grew older.

By the time he is six years old, they are all but gone, knowing only his grandmother’s house and her love.

Little boys, however, are mischievous little things. And Obito is no exception. Inquisitive and daring, he often wanders around the woods behind the house, sitting at the very edge of the village. Animals and spirits alike scurry from his sight, sticks held like swords as he battles imaginary foes. And other times, he jumps around in the creek, catching frogs and salamanders, and sometimes even little fish!

But that’s not all that lurks in the water.

Sitting on a rather large rock along the bank one afternoon, he catches his breath, having just finished chasing a bullfrog. His bare feet are all muddy, the hems of his pants wet. Sachiko will surely scold him, but...he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have. He had a frog to catch! Dazedly watching the sunlight warp and wiggle along the surface as it tumbles over some stones, Obito then slowly sits up straight.

...is...is that…?

Blinking large eyes, he stares at a gap in the rocks. It almost looks like there’s a face there...looking back at him from the water.

“...hullo…?”

Rippling with the flow of the water, the face...blinks!

It is a face…!

Forgetting his manners for a moment, Obito goes plunging back into the water to get a closer look. And as he does, the being’s eyes go wide...and it disappears.

“...huh?” Looking around, he searches for...whatever that was. “...hey! Come back!”

Behind him, unseen, the face peers around his previous perch, watching him silently as he goes rummaging around in the little rapids.

“Come back! I just wanna see ya! Where’d you go…?” He peers into crevices in the stones. All that looks back is a crawfish, clicking its pincers menacingly. “Aww…”

“...what do you want?”

“Yah!” Startled, Obito scurries forward, spinning around and bracing for a blow. But all he sees is the little face behind the rock. “...who are you?”

“I asked you first!”

He stares. This kid - girl? - has hair as white as snow. It curls about her ears like the white foam that gathers around the rocks. And the large, mirror-like silver eyes in her face are like a snake’s, pupils long and thin. Her ears are pointed, and the beginnings of moonstone horns - little more than nubbins at present - peek out from her temples. “I, uh...I thought I saw a person in the water! Was that you…?”

She nods. “Mhm. This is my river!”

At that, Obito frowns. “...river…? It’s barely even a creek!”

The girl’s cheeks puff in a pout. “That’s because I’m still little! See?” Out she comes from hiding, revealing she looks no bigger than himself, maybe even a little smaller. “I’m young for a river! But I’ll grow!” A finger points north. “My mother is over there...I branched off from her banks. Someday I’ll be just as big and strong as she is!”

“...uh…” Obito’s a little skeptical, but who is he to tell a river spirit what is and what isn’t? “Okay. So are you...a kami…?”

“Mhm! You can call me Ryū,” she offers.

“Do you have a shrine?”

At that, Ryū balks, suddenly pink with embarrassment. “N...no. Not yet…”

“But every kami needs a shrine! Are you really a kami without one?”

“O-of course I am!” she rebukes, stomping a foot and sending a huge splash outward, knocking Obito over to sit in the shallows. “Someday I’ll have a big shrine, and you’ll have to come pray to me for your fish and your water!”

Braced up on his palms, Obito stares up at her. Okay, so...she’s stronger than she looks. “O-okay! I...I didn’t mean t’make you mad. M’sorry. I’ve...never met a kami before. Just the little ones that run around in the bushes! Bāchan’s got a whole bunch of little houses for them in the garden!”

At that, Ryū perks up. “...she does?”

“Yeah! I leave ‘em candy sometimes.” Grimacing, he hauls himself to his feet, dripping. “Ehhh…” It’s gonna take forever for him to dry off!

Studying him for a moment, Ryū then claps her hands. At her beckoning, a whirlwind dances over the top of the water! With a few turns, it whips all of the water out of Obito’s clothes, his hair left standing on end.

Seeing as much, Ryū breaks out into giggles caught in her hands.

“...what?”

“N-nothing! But...you’re dry now!” Suddenly looking coy, she smiles behind her palms. “...I didn’t mean to knock you over.” Barefoot, she walks atop the water to where he stands, offering a hand.

Nervously, Obito takes it.

“Step up!”

“...huh?”

“Just do it!”

Looking unsure, he does as asked. And like a solid step, his foot rests atop the water. “...eh?!”

“Other foot, now!”

Gawking, Obito takes another step. He’s...he’s standing on the creek!

...river.

“Is...is this magic?”

“Mhm!” With a tug, she takes him back across, letting Obito step off onto dry land and ridding him of the last of the water. “There!”

“Er...thanks.”

“Be more careful next time you go splashing around for frogs, huh? You never know what might be in the water,” Ryū teases.

It’s Obito’s turn to pout. But he doesn’t really have a retort, either. “Okay, okay…”

With that, Ryū gently ushers him back toward the house where Sachiko begins calling him for lunch.

When Obito turns around, she’s already gone.

...that did really just happen...right?

At least he’s not wet and muddy anymore.

“There you are!” his grandmother greets as he steps back up into the house. “Catch any fish?”

“Nah...tried to get a bullfrog, but it got away.”

Sachiko chuckles, ruffling his wind-puffed hair. “Well, someday you’ll catch some. Then we’ll have fresh lunch, hm?”

“Hey, bāchan?”

“Yes, dear?”

“You believe in kami, right?”

“But of course!” The old woman points to the kamidana that looks out toward the entrance with a gnarled finger. “I still put out offerings for our house spirit. And whatever I can for the little ones in the garden.”

“There’s one in the creek, behind the house!”

At that, Sachiko’s eyes widen. “A river spirit…?”

“Yeah! She’s little, though. Like me!”

“I see…! Well, we’ll have to make her feel welcome, won’t we?”

“Mhm!”

With a little blade, Obito takes some branches from the forest, and begins to whittle in his spare time. More than once, he nicks his fingertips, having to stop and stuck on them to stop the bleeding. With little nails his grandmother gives him, he carefully starts constructing his very best attempt at a tiny little shrine. While he knows it’s nowhere near a proper one...well, they all have to start somewhere.

When it’s finished, he goes about settling it in the proper spot. Carefully wedging it protectively in a nest of stones, he stands back to let Ryū come up and take a closer look.

“...what is this…?”

“It’s a shrine!” He braces proud hands on his hips, looking smug. “I made it all by myself! With bāchan’s help.”

She just...stares at it.

...and Obito starts to get nervous.

“Do...you like it…?”

After a pause, she turns to him, chin trembling and eyes teary.

Obito stiffens. “Wh-? What’s wrong? Is it -?”

“It’s perfect!” she cuts in, leaping forward and latching onto him tightly, forcing him to spin slightly at her force to avoid falling over. Around them, a joyous wind eddies and ripples the water in an arc. Face hiding in her neck, she quietly mumbles, “...thank you.”

Above her, Obito’s cheeks tinge pink. “...y-you’re welcome.”

Every morning, he and Sachiko dutifully come out and leave an offering. To Obito’s surprise, Ryū never shows herself when the old woman is around. It’s only in front of the boy she emerges from the water, always miraculously dry.

“How come bāchan doesn’t get to see you?”

Sitting on one of the rocks by her shrine, Ryū hums. “...well...sometimes seeing a kami can be a bit, um...much for people. And I don’t want to frighten her.”

“You wouldn’t scare her!”

“...no,” Ryū agrees, still frowning. “...but it can still startle them. And it’s not good to startle old humans. It can make their heart go too fast. For you it’s okay, because your heart is young and your mind is open. Sachiko-bā’s mind is open, but...I’m afraid her heart might not do well, ne? So I want to be safe. Humans don’t live as long as we kami do.”

That makes Obito stiffen. In truth...he hasn’t ever given his grandmother’s mortality any thought. To him, she’s a constant. She’s always been here, so...surely she always will be!

...right?

“...but…?”

Seeing the conflict in the boy’s face, Ryū gently sighs. “...we river spirits can help with healing - water is the element of it, after all. I’ll do my best to help keep your grandmother healthy for as long as I can! But, Obito...all things have to pass eventually. It’s part of life, ne…?”

Frowning heavily, he wants to argue...but despite his young age, he also knows she’s right. He sits beside her, looking somber. “...yeah…”

She carefully leans against him. “Just make sure she drinks water from my river every day, ne? I’ll do all I can.”

“...thanks.”

Time, however, stops for no man and no kami. Seasons blend together, rising and falling as years begin to pass. Obito gets a little older, and a little older. Sachiko, however, hardly seems to change: sitting on the rear engawa and slowly fanning herself, looking over the water with a Buddha smile.

And it’s not just Obito that grows. With every passing wet season, the creek behind the house grows a little deeper, a little wider. Reeds grow along the banks, which Sachiko teaches Obito to weave into baskets to hold their food. Fish begin to swim in the currents, Obito spearing them for food whenever the weather is good, as well as finding freshwater clams and crawfish. And every evening, little glowing mushi float over the water, their light reflecting along the surface.

They, however, aren’t the only kami that start gathering by the river.

A kappa spoon shows up. Lurking in the waters, she watches the humans with her amber eyes. And every so often, an okuri inu wanders from his guarded path to drink from the banks.

Ryū welcomes them all. Like her waters, her physical form also matures. Taller, her silver-threaded white kimono grows with her, the patterns shifting and changing depending on her thoughts or mood. Her hair is longer, falling nearly to her tailbone: a mess of waves like her rapids. And the horns at her temple have grown, with several branches that curl out behind her head.

A few years later, Obito makes a second attempt at her shrine. This one is bigger, more refined, and set atop a stone slab he hauls in along the riverbank. Ryū still keeps the first one, nestled among other treasures beneath the water.

Even other villagers begin to make offerings. Sake and plum wine are poured into her currents with every harvest. She brings rains in the Spring, and cool winds in the Summer.

Life is peaceful.

...but peace rarely lasts.

At the elders’ requests, the boys begin to learn how to fight. Obito trains with blades and armor, often practicing his forms behind the house.

With doleful eyes, Ryū watches.

She still remembers how her mother’s waters would run red with blood when war swept over the land.

And like the turning of seasons, war once again falls upon them. The boys wait anxiously for the day it finds their village.

That is all they are: boys.

Children.

As Summer wanes, the fighting finds them. Samurai on horseback, intent on conquest, ride through and alight thatch roofs. Men who dare lift blades to them are cut down. Blood pools in the mud of the streets.

It all seems so hopeless.

“No...no!”

With every ounce of effort she can muster, Sachiko makes her way to the banks. In her arms, slack and unconscious, is Obito. Blood runs down his face...and horrible burns pucker his flesh.

“O-kami-sama...please! Don’t take my boy...don’t take what I have left! Please...please spare him…!” Stepping into the water, she brings his body with her. “Save him, I beg of you…!”

Emerging from the water, Ryū’s face is tightened with emotion. Water drips from her form, kimono heavy. “Obito…!”

“O-kami-sama…” Sachiko reaches a trembling hand, which Ryū gently takes. “Please…!”

Looking near tears, Ryū then turns to her friend. Carefully, she urges him further into the current, palms at his cheeks as he floats along the surface. A wind begins to eddy around them, the god’s eyes closed as she concentrates.

Around her, the water begins to shimmer, taking on an emerald hue. As it washes over the boy in her arms, his wounds begin to close, scarred and pink.

His eyes open, looking foggily up to her face. “...Ryū…?”

“Shh...you’re safe now…” Glancing aside, she motions to the kappa. “Hold him here.”

“Where are you going?”

Her silvers turn to steel. “...to finish this.”

Face slack, the kappa doesn’t argue, watching as the god approaches the bank.

Water brings life, washes wounds, and nurtures fields.

But so too can it drown.

Within moments, tumultuous storm clouds gather over the village, dark and rumbling. Lightning strikes, winds whipping. Torrents of rain begin to fall, dousing the flames. And as Ryū walks the street, forks of lightning find marks in the samurai’s iron armor. The god’s wrath washes over the village, scourging the invaders and leaving the villagers untouched. Screams of terror sound from the samurai, who scramble to retreat.

With a geyser-like hiss, Ryū shifts into her true form: a ribbon of white and silver scales, needle teeth bared in fury as claws dig into the earth beneath her.

“BEGONE!”

...then there is silence, broken only by the rain.

Staring out after the warriors, Ryū watches as the hiding villagers slowly reappear. Mourning cries begin to build for the fallen. Hands reach for the burned and broken buildings.

But those who survived will rebuild.

At each of the wounded, Ryū stops and does what she can. Many are saved. A few are still lost. Only once all are accounted for does the rain begin to ease, the clouds lightening and starting to scatter.

Returning to the river, she carefully brings Obito to the bank. Already the kappa has peeled away what remains of his armor, his body light.

“O-kami-sama…”

Turning her head to Sachiko, Ryū watches the human cry in relief, smiling as tears tumble down her face.

“Thank you...thank you.”

Softening, the god brings her snout to the old woman’s brow, carefully resting the cool scales against her skin.

“Ryū…?”

In a blink, Ryū retakes her human form, knelt and bringing Obito’s head to her lap. “It’s over. And I doubt they will return. Not knowing an angry god watches over this place.”

With a swaying, scar-marked hand, he reaches up to cup her cheek. “You saved me.”

“Of course,” is her soft reply. “You were my first friend...you built me my first shrine. You are forever nestled at the center of my heart, Obito.”

Smiling, he lets his eyes close, exhausting overtaking him.

For weeks, the village licks its wounds. Homes are rebuilt, graves dug, memories shouldered. And along the riverbank, a proper shrine is raised for their patron god. Dragons adorn every surface: painted, carved, and molded.

Standing within it, Ryū quietly takes in its beauty.

“Well...I think this one is better than either of mine.”

Turning, she alights as Obito enters. Still recovering, he leans heavily on a crutch. “They are all beautiful,” is her retort. “It’s not the appearance, but the intent. And yours were always the most heartfelt. So too is this one. But I will always treasure yours the most.”

Head ducking, he goes red.

“How are you wounds…?”

“Fine...I’m just sore. I’ll be all right. I was lucky.”

Her gaze drops at the memory of the fallen. “...it won’t happen again.”

“I know.”

Considering him for a moment, Ryū then crosses the floor to stand before him. “...you know, I wouldn’t be as I am if it weren’t for you.”

“Huh…?”

“You befriended me, and respected me. Believed in me. All kami need to be believed in and remembered, lest we disappear. Without you...perhaps I would have dried up. Faded away. But now...now I’ll flow for generations. And it all began with you.”

Now quite brightly blushing, Obito has no retort.

Allowing a smile, Ryū takes his cheeks in her hands, bowing his head to plant a kiss on his brow. “...thank you, Obito.”

“B-but -? I should be thanking you! You saved me, you -?”

“I did what I had to. What I wanted. It seems...we needed each other.” Her hands lower, taking his spare gently in her grip. “...and so...we will be together. Won’t we…?”

Looking a bit dumbfounded, Obito then softens and shuffles closer. “...yeah. We will.”

     This is depressingly late, but honestly I just...got too burnt out. Things I were trying weren’t working. So I gave up for a few days, let my brain rest. I THINK I can finish, now. One more free day for my choice, then another prompt from Meg, then we’re done! At least it’s not December, yet :’D      But anyway, some kami verse! I am...a huge sucker for this, okay. Japanese mythology is so interesting. I feel like maybe I don’t know enough to write this kind of thing perfectly well, but I try! It’s a bit like Obito’s bakeneko piece, but...reversed! lol      Anyway, gotta get some stuff done, but I’ma try to at least start another one tonight. We’ll see how it goes~ Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #uchiha sachiko #river runs deep [ au ] #blood // #death //