#[ thread: it rains and it pours when you're out on your own ]

[plantmusic]

[ @forgotten-teammates​​ ]

He watched as the embers went out, offering a friendly smile once asked his name.

"Kain Fuery, it's nice to meet you."

His rank wasn't really that important, not to some random kid, so he omitted it. He was more interested in being personable than stiff and overly formal - he'd always been that way, in stark contrast to a majority of other soldiers he'd encountered. Of course, his own team was a bit different (some would even call them 'weird'), but outside of them... even beyond the walls of the command center soldiers held boring, cold interactions. Kain has never been interested in being that way outside of what was necessary, too warm and bright of a person to try to adhere to strictness that ultimately did not benefit anyone. So, he extended his hand when he asked a mirrored question.

"What about yours?"

____________________

"Kain." He parroted with a nod.

One could say that names were a sore subject for Russell, given his history with them. Upon being asked for his own, he very nearly replied in kind with the stolen one he wore for so long. It was there, gnawing at the tip of his tongue like a fish parasite, but he elected to not let it slip.

(Not when saying it to the wrong person nearly cost him his life, which was what started him on the straight(ish) and narrow.)

"Russell." He wouldn't bother with his last name in the off chance that the other knew of his arrest record. Impersonating a state alchemist is a pretty hard thing to scrub.

He stepped easily past in the direction of the front door, fluid in his movement like Fuery was nothing more than another one of the many potted plants sitting on the step, and let it swing open inwards, book tucked against his hip and smouldering pipe between his lips "Come in, leave your shoes by the door. If my brother comes home to mud stains on the rug, he'll come for my shins."

[yandere-wishes]

‧ ₊˚✧ Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon ‧ ₊˚✧

Summary: There's a crack in Neuvillette's heart that bares your name. He sheds a tear for you each day. Yet once you return to Fontaine with your fiance. The cracks and tears begin to grow. 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, arranged marriages, affairs. 

Author's note: I'm sorry 😭💔😭💔

There've been rumors circling around Fontaine. Ghostly whispers floating between coral-tainted lips and fervid ears. The rumors spoke a bittersweet name. One Neuvillate had long since buried. At first, the notion of your return had felt like a bad dream. like the roar of a tsunami before it crashes on shore. Terrifying yet, ultimately unreal. He'd summed the rumors up to some traveler who bore your mien. To an erroneous article by the steam bird. Anything. anything at all. 

Anything that wasn't you.

It wasn't until after a particularly grueling trial that he'd witnessed the truth behind these rumors. There you were in all you're glory. Gleaming akin to the finest pearls laying dormant in the primordial sea. Your expression, when he could catch it, was gleeful, delighted, A drastic contrast to his last unfortunate memory of you. His eyes follow the delicate movement of your gloved hand as it stifles a cheery giggle pouring from your cherry lips. It's only after noting your delight that he becomes conscious of the gentleman accompanying you. A ginger with bloodthirsty eyes and a soul that reeks of carnage.

A splash of heat rolls down Neuvillet's cheek. Right before a splash of cold splatters across his temples. his attention narrows on the sky, as the

clouds begin to weep. What once was a peaceful sunny day shatters like a wine glass on porcelain tiles. Humidity threads through the air robbing him of his breath. 

It's raining.

How fitting, Neuvillette thinks as he watches you and your companion run to find shelter. 

Neuvillette recalls your smile almost as clearly as he recalls your pulse under his teeth. The taste of your flesh as his teeth left bloody love bites in every wrong place. He remembers saying I love you, albeit there was more to it than that. It had started with I love you and ended with every truth he'd forgotten how to tell. He had shed his human masquerade, in the hope of finding true love. You had screamed that night. You had screamed every night since. 

Neuvillette thumbs through his memories. As the rain outside grows more ferocious. He remembers you standing by the sea, he remembers you telling him the phobias that ran deeper than blood. 

You hadn't been from Fontaine, not originally. A fallen gear from an ancient automaton whose kin resided across the sea.

You'd been raised in the ways of the hydro court. Even if 'raised; was too generous a word. Morphed or sculpted may have been more appropriate synonyms. You grew up clawing at your own skin, trying to find who was underneath the layers of mindless expectations. You'd been raised as a lady and grew into a harrowing beast that feasted on the stars. 

Yet even creatures of unparalleled strength had their weaknesses. Even ever-blessed vision wielders bore a certain Achilles heal. 

Yours so happened to be your incompatibility with your foster nation. Or rather with the water itself. 

When people asked, as some had tended to do. You'd weaved them tales about serrated Pisces and dorsal-finned leviathans with open maws awaiting their prey. You don't tell them about the vastness, the dark blue landscape that feels all too wide and all too endless. You don't tell them about the things you swore you've seen lurking beneath the infinite waters of Fontaine. And you most certainly leave out the parts about the creature who engraved fear upon your bones many moons ago before you even knew how to walk.  

Neuvillette remembers your eagerness to leave. That had, ultimately, been your bonding point. He'd been an outcast. The supreme justice was ever only relevant when he upheld the law. And whilst Supreme Justice Neuvillette was revered and adored by all. Plain Neuvillette was nothing more than a shadow of evaporated water that hunted the streets of Fontaine. You had never wanted to mingle with the people. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it was fate that had brought two lonely souls together all those moons ago. Maybe it was something else. 

He had loved you. He swears it on the Hydro archon ( or any other Archon who lacks Furina's fickleness) He'd tried to show you that the waters of Fontaine meant you no harm. He'd even shown you his true form, the utmost assurance. Maybe that's why you fled. Maybe that's why you'd left him heartbroken one morning when the sun didn't rise. 

It had rained that day. As well as the following days. Until the surrounding islands ceased to exist. 

You'd left him hollow and alone.

Yet your return made the cracks in his heart fester. 

 Neuvillette had taken it upon himself to cloak you in his watchful gaze.

He'd come to notice how you and that dreadful Fatui Harbinger you'd come to associate yourself with. Rather liked taking long walks

 where the sea kissed the shore. He'd also noticed a ring of Snezhnaya Alexandrite perpetually wrapped around your finger. 

Neuvillette's footsteps are heavy as they collide with the concrete. He's closer today. So close he can practically smell the scent of citrus and eucalyptus. If he reached out with his powers he could surely touch you, feel the warmth of your body bleeding into him, just like old times. He misses you, yet a part of him pities your return. Neuvillette's grey eyes follow your desolate gaze. It rips open one too many wistful wounds. 

"So then Teucer said...Hey darling are you listening?"

Childe's eyes follow your frozen glare, tracing your line of sight straight to the menacing waters that refuse to part from your side. You hear your lover mumble a faint 'right'. Before you feel his silk-clad fingers dance across the back of your neck. Flirting with the chilling fear that rolls off you in waves. You pin your body to him, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his cologne as you bury your head in his neck. 

"I'm truly sorry for this darling" Sincerity rolls off his tongue, percolating into the tender kiss he presses to your temple. "I've just been feeling...down lately. Like this inexhaustible sadness is going to swallow me whole. Fontaine was the only place I could convince the Tsaritsa to transfer me for a short while. I just, I need a break from it all." You answer him in a low melodic hum. You get it, truly you do. Sadness is a poison, acidic in nature. It engulfs one's soul. Melting away their purpose, their resolve. Eating away until it reaches their hearts, their desires. It leaves behind empty shells and broken pieces too fragile to ever fully mend. 

Who better than you to understand the pains of being soulless, bereft? A mere shell awaiting a miracle that had died long ago. 

There's a voice, carved from velvet and silk. It rolls across you like a tidal wave. Potent yet soft. It whispers your name and calls out in hopes of mending broken hearts. You turn to look behind you. All you see is the endless sea. 

It's only on the fourth day of your visit that Neuvillette permits you to see him. Actually, see him. It's no longer his ghost that haunts you nor the empty waves that he commands beckoning you by name. It's him, really him. His glare is relentless as he leaves a prolonged kiss on your knuckles. You're in the middle of a conversation with that dreaded harbinger. Something about his older sister wishing to take to shopping upon your return to Snezhnaya.

"My darling it's been all too long, how fare thee my-"

He's cut short, how rude. Yet far be it from him to expect proper mannerisms from the Fatui.

"Hey, I'm having a conversation with my betrothed. Don't interrupt." Childe's eyes morph into his own glare. One which promises blood and violence. The fates of those caught on the other end of said glare are never pleasant. 

"As the chief justice of Fontaine, I have to right to interrupt any conversation I see fit."

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. Choke the fear down with a cup of Fonta and ask Neuvillette to join the two of you. It's the nostalgia talking really. Some remnants of the past collide with the present causing your heart to adopt an unsteady rhythm. 

It's after that event that Neuvillet permits his presence to be seen by you and your "lover". He's always a mere breath away, following under the guise of being a gracious "tour guide". But tour guides do not wrap their arms around a lady's waist when her fiance isn't looking. Nor do they sneak kisses behind open parasols. You haven't protested about any of this. Maybe your fear of the hydro dragon has perished, replaced with a yearning for your former lover. He prays to every star in Tyvat for this to be true. 

It's on the day of your departure that you receive the bad news in the form of an army of Gardemeks. Childe is being arrested, something about a serial disappearance case. Something about a trial. It's a ruse you feel it in your bones. Neuvillette personally appears at the docks and holds you in his arms as you weep. He assures you this will all be cleared up soon. That you have nothing to fear. 

But you do, you have all so much to fear. Neuvillette permits you to stay at his house whilst the trial takes place. He traces the shimmering blue of your veins with his lips. He says he loves you, that he refuses to let you slip from between his fingers ever again. He'll keep you here. Keep you safe. Away from the Fatui. 

Away from Ajax. 

How he wishes he could tear the universe apart with his teeth. Part the oceans and bury the two of you under it. He dreams of keeping you by his side away from everyone else. Neuvillette is the chief justice of Fontaine, it's a prestigious role, one that demands trust. Yet maybe, just this once. He'll have to find the accused guilty regardless of the evidence. 

Tag list: @rebeccawinters @fangirl-katwithclaws @starshiningsirius

[m0chisenpai]

New Daughter of Mine

Pre!Avatar Way of Water

platonic!jake sully x human!!reader x platonic!neytiri

Sequel: Goldilocks

It’s easy to take in a stray animal. A human child being taken in by two aliens is an entirely different narrative and challenge within itself. Neytiri works her best to learn with each day. And there were good ones like now. As she sits with her dear Netayem pressed to her chest and she watches as Jake points to himself, palms pressed to his chest as he slowly sounds out, “sem…pul” 

And she can’t help the smile across her lips as you speak it back pressing your hands atop his, “sempul!”

“And Neytiri is?...” he raises his brow as you huff, pressing your eyes so tight then opening them wide.

“Sa’nu!”

“Sa’nok” He flicks your forehead gently. 

“For you I am sa’nul my y/n.” And her heart throbs at the gap toothed smile you flash her. Her own lips turned up. 

You latched onto Neytiri in an instant. And to Jake’s surprise she accepted you immediately. She would bring you on small hunts, teaching you to aim, to track. Crafted a bow with you as she told you the story of the one whose bow she carried. 

She braided your hair affectionately in the warmth of the day. Her fingers gently plaited, and moved with a gentleness you never knew. Slowly you found yourself falling asleep, leaning your small body back to rest your head on her stomach. 

And she didn’t have the heart to wake you, so she adjusted your head gently and continued threading the beads. They were her own ones from her own childhood. A piece of her, now a part of you. 

You shifted in her arms, eyes open half way as a large yawn fell from your lips. By then she was done and you looked into the clear waters with excitement enjoying the sounds of the beautiful beads. 

 “Mother would braid tight when she did my hair at home. And there was another woman, I don’t think she liked me very much. She would do it sometime and it would hurt.” 

And Neytiri cupped beneath your jaw to look into your eyes. “I will always be gentle with you, my y/n.” 

And she was. Jake would raise his brow as she watched how Neytiri would speak with you. It took months to tear down that stoney wall, but with you she was a pile of mush in an instant. 

But when it rains it pours. And when the bad moments come it is when Neytiri realizes that it only strengthens the now four of you.

 It usually happens at night. You would get these night terrors and would scream and cry for your mother and father. It shook her to her core the first night it happened, but somehow you knew Neytiri’s arms and when sh beheld you tight and rocked you gently you would slowly lull back to slumber.

One particular night it was bad and in an attempt to soothe you Neytiri lay her hand atop yours and went to hold you once more. In your haze of a nightmare though you continued to shout “Mama! Mama!!” your shrieks now shake Jake awake who watches as your tiny fists drive into Neytiri your hands collide with hers working to get them off of your body.

“Its ok baby come here, you're fine. You're safe. We’re here” Jake quickly pries your fighting form away from Neytiri and wraps his arms around you. 

And so she pressed Netayem to her chest bouncing him gently as she shushed him and Lo’ak who was woken by your screams. 

Her heart broke as Jake pressed you to his chest, how you grasped his hand as you whimpered. You were scared of her. It was then she realized it. No matter how hard she would try, how hard she could try and heal your wounds, she would never be your birth mother. But for now, she would endure it. Because you were her ite. 

She would not be your birth mother, she would do better. She could feel this task in her bones, from Eywa herself as she knelt before the tree of souls with tears in her eyes. “Free my daughter from these monsters in the night my Eywa. Great Mother help me, guide me. Teach me to do what is needed for my daughter.” Her eyes screwed shut as she clasped her hands tightly.

Tonight she waited. Neytiri was a huntress at heart, the best among the tribe. And she could hear it from the stutter in your breath. And so she sat up, holding you in her lap and rocking you as your breaths picked up. And she sang. She sang your song chord. Whispered it over and over as she brushed your hair out of your face. 

And this time you didn’t fight her. Instead your head slowly fell into her palm, she could feel the gentle puffs of your breath slowing down. You lean into her touch and she smiles as she sings into the night. 

That next day she would add a bead to her song chord. It was a beautiful stone you’d found playing in the waters with Netayem. She smoothed it down once rough and covered in stone turned smooth with deep grooves like a pearl, and now sings a new verse. “My Y/N, my light. Bright star in my life. To you, Great Mother, I thank you each night. Daughter of mine, new joy in my life. My Y/N, My Y/N.”

[mimihanyuu]

A Kanda fic based on Hoshino's most recent drawing of him. And YES it's incredibly self indulgent so don't ask

I love him a normal amount your honor I promise

It's pouring.

You can't remember the last time you saw anything like England's biting winter rain. Or if you ever had, really. Growing up in the desert, you had become accustomed to weather so hot and dry it could suck the life from you, leaving your body to boil in your own sweat. As a child, you'd believed no other weather could possibly be worse.

You sarcastically note that you were wrong as you trudge behind your companions, your shoter legs failing you in the cold and the thick mud. You wonder briefly why you had agreed to tag along to see Mana's grave. Then, through chattering teeth, you recall that you did not agree. No, you rather fiercely insisted on going, claiming you had just as much right to know the truth as Allen and Kanda and everyone else, having been just as affected by the Holy War.

Kanda had called you an idiot then. The poorly masked fear in his voice had only made you more adamant. You had snapped at him that you were going, and how dare he call you an idiot.

He shut up then, blinking at you and taken aback as always. He always seemed surprised by you, pleasantly so if you were reading his eyes correctly. He respected you, strangely, even as you were so small and frail and pitifully weak compared to him. At least was what you thought.

Shivering as you slip on the muddy ground beneath you, you think he was probably right. You are an idiot.

The bit about your "right" to know was a lie, after all. You just wanted to be by his side, to support him. Somewhere along the line, you had decided that you were going to get stronger. You were going to protect him for once. The rain bites at your bones and you think of how stupid that sounds.

Kanda stops. "You're lagging," his words are clipped and snappish, like a barking dog, but he's still approaching you, backtracking for your sake. You sigh, and you can see your breath flare up in front of you like smoke. He always does this, he always stops what he's doing and rounds on you when you think something weird or morbid or self-depreciating, like he knows. You hunch over in pain, from the cold or maybe from how upset you are with yourself for holding him back again.

"What are you doing?" He's in front of you now, trying to see your face as you appear to try to crawl deeper into your own skin for warmth. "We have a job to do--"

"I'm so cold it hurts," you mumble. You manage to straighten your back at least a little bit and find yourself face to face with Kanda, his eyes making direct contact with yours. You pull away slightly, a tiny gasp escaping your lips when he rather brazenly places his hand on your forehead. You're embarrassed when you find yourself leaning into his touch, sighing at the very welcome heat of human contact.

You open your eyes, not realizing you had closed them. "Huh," he muses, his voice barely audible above the rain. "You don't feel cold." There's a teasing lilt in his voice and a look in his eyes that makes you feel like he's toying with you. He probably is.

"Come on," he takes your hand and pulls you forward roughly, his fingers threading themselves between yours easily. "We're almost there." He doesn't look at you, keeping you securely next to him as you lean into him slightly, still shivering. You can swear his ears are red, but it could be the cold.

Several steps ahead, General Tiedoll smiles knowingly at the two of you and suddenly you feel warm on the inside, a sense of relief flooding your chilled veins.

Even if you didn't believe in yourself sometimes, perhaps Kanda believed in you enough for the both of you. After all, he always came back for you, sought you out, protected you, no questions asked. You tell yourself that you aren't sure why, but really, you know. Everybody knows. You're just afraid you're wrong and he doesn't love you.

You shouldn't be.

[evermourning]

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (bewitched series pt. 5)

genre: angst, hurt/no comfort, non!idol au

wc: 1k

warnings: language, mentions of anxiety, hyunjin's character is in no way meant to resemble his personality. this is a work of fiction.

the ocean, for as long as you remembered, had been a fundamental part of your life. summer visits as a child, long walks with pets, the entirety of the area was such a tranquil space for you.

when you broke up with your first boyfriend, you relinquished your tears to the ocean's salty waters, slowly melding into the cycle where they would eventually fall from a cloud as gracefully as they did from your tear ducts, beginning anew.

you took your latest love, hyunjin, to the beach a lot. he really loved it there, as there was this sparkle in his chocolate eyes that wasn't there when he was forced to wade throughs the crowds of the bustling city.

sometimes during the summer, if the beach wasn't that crowded, you'd sit on a blanket of intricately woven threads, cross-legged with your feet in the sand, and the wind blowing. hyunjin would sit next to you, chewing on his bottom lip as his paintbrush waltzed across the canvas. as it twirled, colors as vibrant as the sky and as deep as the ocean made themselves known as they spun and spun and spun.

"you're such a talented person, hyune." you murmured, the smooth strokes of his brush putting you in a trance. "you truly are an artist, every moment you make is fluid, yet precise. it's so alluring."

he'd chuckled, turning to face you with a soft smile on his lips.

"that's the most beautifully romantic thing i've heard in a while, my dear." the sweet words flowed easily, sounding so natural to you. "i'd love it if you watched me paint forever and ever."

this would no longer be possible.

you were sitting on your blanket, staring out at the far horizon, feeling completely lost, and hyunjin was back in the big city, somebody new in between his arms.

you should've figured, anyways. that was where hyunjin was meant to be. he just clicked in the hub of culture, where many differences meshed together to form something unique and beautiful. the city wasn't for everyone, especially not you. the loud noises and hustle and bustle were just too much for an easygoing person like yourself.

the spot next to you, designated for hyunjin was empty, replaced by purely air. you stared off into space, zoned out, thinking about how you deserved it. in the end, you were too scared of your own feelings. you shouldn't even be considered for hyunjin's love, not if he'd already decided to run along to the next person. you couldn't hate whoever it was, they probably lived a life just like yours: relishing the simple moments, finding happiness in every inch of their life, crying when things didn't go as they wanted them to.

the morning hyunjin left was engraved deep into your mind. you had fought bad the night before. when you woke up, he was packing his things into a suitcase.

"so you're leaving? we're done, then?" you'd said meekly. half of you wanted to latch onto him and hug him tight, so that he'd stay. but you knew it was too late.

"i guess we are. i need some space, you know? this relationship ending has really taken a toll on me." you knew better. you wanted to reach for him, to tell him he didn't have to hide.

it's okay, i understand. you wanted to say. but in all reality, you didn't. you didn't understand why he had to leave you, lost in a rip current, flailing your arms, attempting to tread water when all you were doing was leading closer and closer to suffocation.

you could've fought. you could've chased after him, sobbed about how you were nothing without him, but instead you stood under the awning as rain poured around you, watching him get into the car and fade out of view as your eyes became blurry with a different falling drop of water. it hurt too much, you concluded, after surgically examining the entire relationship, to try. if he'd told you he didn't love you anymore, you would've been absolutely shattered and stomped on.

it wasn't the same. the mountains and valleys wept in his absence. the rivers grew dry, the leaves died and fell, and it was bitterly cold again. it felt as if mother nature was mourning with you, her frozen tears falling gently to bed your incessant worrying. in the cold months, sunsets weren't the same, either. once a radiant array of colors and vibrancy was now muted and dull as the warm months bid the earth adieu.

you never stopped to admire the sun's swan song anymore.

closing your eyes, your brain flooded with pictures of hyunjin and his old flame, rekindled by his silver lighter. her face was blurred in your head, and if you imagined hard enough, her face was replaced by yours. those dreams ended in tragedy.

"i wonder if yn still misses you." she commented, her tone high-pitced and nasally. she sounds like she's been laughing. "that'd be so fucking funny, aha."

a low chuckle is elicited from the very same lips that used to trace every inch of your skin, mumbling about how you were the very essence of perfection in an imperfect world.

"yeah, i do think it's hilarious. they really thought i was the one, huh? they're definitely miserable."

you woke up, your heart pounding and struggling to take a breath until you slowly breathed in and out. in and out. in...and out.

was it your anxiety ruining every little thing? were you too young to fall in love? was it your inability to confront or communicate?

or was it simply that you were just unlovable?

as you were fighting collapsing and sobbing until you choked and died on your own tears, hyunjin's wicked plan was to completely move on. so damn wicked.

why did he have to leave?

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[hleevrsworld]

Threads of Fate

N.R

The rain poured down relentlessly, each droplet a heavy reminder of life's unpredictable nature. You hurried along the crowded streets of Seoul, umbrella barely shielding you from the deluge, lost in your own thoughts. But as fate would have it, a collision interrupted your reverie, sending you stumbling and jolting you back to the present.

"I'm so sorry," you blurted out, flustered, as you tried to steady yourself.

The stranger, a young man with captivating eyes, flashed you a charming smile, his concern palpable. "No worries. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of the chaos.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you nodded, a mixture of gratitude and surprise washing over you. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just not paying attention, I guess."

His chuckle was like a melody in the rain, a bright spot in the dreary afternoon. "It happens to the best of us. Here, let me walk you to your destination. Wouldn't want you to get lost again."

And just like that, Ni-ki entered your life, a whirlwind of charm and kindness. With each step you took together through the rain-soaked streets, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. It was as if you had known each other for years, not just a few minutes. You found yourself sharing things you had never told anyone, opening up to this stranger in a way that felt both natural and exhilarating.

When you finally reached your destination, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. You didn't want the conversation to end, didn't want to say goodbye to the stranger who had brightened your day.

"Thank you for walking me here," you said, trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

Ni-ki smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Anytime. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."

As he disappeared into the rain, leaving you standing on the sidewalk, you couldn't shake the feeling that your encounter was more than just chance. There was something about Ni-ki that drew you to him, something that felt like destiny.

From that day forward, Ni-ki became a constant presence in your life. You bumped into each other at cafes, bookstores, and even on the subway. It was as if fate was determined to keep bringing you together, weaving your lives together in ways you couldn't explain.

As your friendship blossomed into something deeper, you found yourself falling for Ni-ki in ways you never thought possible. He became your confidant, your rock, the person you turned to when the world felt like it was crumbling around you.

But just as your relationship seemed to be reaching new heights, tragedy struck. A devastating loss rocked your world, leaving you reeling and unsure of how to go on.

Ni-ki was there for you, offering comfort and support in your darkest moments. He held you close as you cried, whispered words of encouragement when you felt like giving up. It was during those long nights of heartache and sorrow that you realized just how much he meant to you.

And then, one day, as you sat together on a secluded beach, watching the waves crash against the shore, Ni-ki turned to you with a look of determination in his eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to face him, anticipation coursing through your veins. "What is it?" you asked, breathless with anticipation.

Ni-ki took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've known since the moment I met you," he confessed. "You're my soulmate, the one I've been searching for all my life."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your soul. "I've always known," you whispered, your voice filled with love and gratitude. "You're my soulmate too, Ni-ki. Always and forever."

And in that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the world and the love of your soulmate, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in an unbreakable bond that would last for eternity.

[katkanary]

kintsugi

.

..

i know you think you are too broken,

to ever be loved

i know you think you are too worthless,

to be worthy of mercy from anyone

and i know that your hands shake when you talk to strangers for too long

that your thoughts whisper 'you're selfish'

'you're a burden'

'you are ugly and cruel and-'

And. you, are wrong.

because i know these thoughts.

I've had them many times before.

i told myself i deserved all the worst

that the world could throw at me.

So, from someone else who has been down this road,

Let me teach you the way of kintsugi.

Kintsugi is the art of putting what is broken together again,

but not ignoring what it's gone through, or where it's been.

You take the sharp-edged pieces, and you fill the cracks with gold

Until whole and run through with veins of precious metal,

It is worth more than the ones of old.

And maybe you believe that you don't deserve to be precious or whole

but i'll open up my arms to welcome you home

and i'll offer you a hand out of the cold

and if you want to, if you let me,

i'll paint all your scars with gold

Love is not deserved, or earned, or asked

You are not my chore, my burden, my task

I'll bare myself to you entirely, show you my gold-threaded soul

so you can see, that like you-

once, i was not whole

and i will tell you all my stories, so you can start healing who you are

but only you can find your path

only you can uncover your scars.

only you can stop hating the reaper for what you sowed,

but know that if you choose to

i will be here to paint your fracture lines with gold.

you are broken shards of memories past,

you are gold-leaf paint made to last

you are quick-crescent smiles and rumbling thunderstorms

you are kites in the wind,

and lying in your bed in the dark, just listening to the rain pour

i would be your Midas,

turn all your silver scars gold

no matter what you might've done

i'd never let you stand alone out in the cold

you are kintsugi, and you contain the ashes of empires,

eternities old.

and if you ever let me,

I'd open up my own shimmering, painted arms and say,

'Welcome home'

And I'd paint your soul in a thousand shades of gold.

..

.

[soulofgenocide]

Back-Alley

"Michael."

Richard placed his hand on the doorframe of a seemingly abandoned trailer home, looking in at the figure sitting down on a rotting couch with a rain poncho covering most of them. It was pouring down, but Richard knew there was more enchantments on that poncho than his own front door to hide the wearer. Not that it mattered though as the man tossed back the hood, revealing a rather plain face with short black hair resting on top, the only notable part of his face being his blue eyes.

"Genocide."

"New host huh, who's this schmuck, some zealot you have on standby?"

"He is a believer from the church around th- this isn't relevant to why I called you here, come in and sit down before someone sees that damn blood puddle of a hair you have."

The Soul rolled his eyes but did enter the trailer, closing what could barely be called a door made of plywood behind him, though rather than sit in filth his threads quickly formed a chair for him. This seemed to irritate the Arch-Angel a bit, not from seeing his threads but rather jealousy he couldn't do that, the couch smelled like old cum.

"Come to rescind your divine bullshit and finally comply with the very LITTLE I ask of you?"

"I do not want this anymore than you do, I was very vocal about how this was a terrible decision and yet it still went through. If I couldn't stop it then that means it was from someone far above me, especially because I didn't even know until it happened."

"No shit, Hell also normally wouldn't fucking poke at me when they know damn well what'll happen, fuck what I just DID! There is someone on both sides setting this up like a goddamn chessboard and so far everything's going their way."

"Your comments about doing the same in Heaven were too far, it's what made things easier, you know that there are still plenty in power that want revenge for your old rampage! I saved your li-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll rip you to pieces right now, you may have backup nearby but before they reach us I'll have torn your head from your body and eaten half of your wings. Saved? It was your LIE that put us in Heaven in the first place, what happened that day was YOUR fucking fault do not act like you saved us. You saved your people, because even if Joesph wouldn't have been able to take it we damn well would've taken plenty of you with us."

The Angel went quiet before sighing and rubbing his eyes, while he did believe he saved Genocide and Joesph that day he was also aware he wasn't lying right now. He was already a beast pushed into a corner and the only reason he left was Joesph's body couldn't take it, if he wasn't bound at that time.. so many Divine would've died.

"Your comments still started this."

"No, your fucking kind started this when they couldn't do the basics of human logic and that's not go on the lawn of the old man who owns a shotgun. One fucking rule, I had ONE thing that I wanted from you and yet neither you nor Hell could do their goddamn jobs. Now I hear you're waking up Broken by the dozen, is your puppet master too afraid to use their own?"

"Who- ugh, that bastard will never stop being a pain in my ass, I assume now that he's gone missing too he's under your protection."

"That he is."

"Like I said none of this is my idea nor do I want it to continue, I asked you to come here because I thought maybe we could find out who is inciting this bloodbath."

"How the fuck would I know? For all I know it's God and the Root themselves having a pissing contest on who can fuck with me the most."

There was a silence from Michael, a very long and awkward one as Richard slowly began sitting up in his chair and an angry expression growing as the seconds passed.

"You think-?"

"I don't know alright, whoever did this is FAR above me and those typically hear Father's whispers, this isn't something that would be lightly decided. For Hell as well, Lucifer wouldn't normally act so foolishly toward you unless there is something stronger than him guiding his hand."

"I'm not a plaything for them."

"I know, Genocide, but-"

"You'd better hope you're wrong, and keep doing all you can to slow Heaven down, otherwise my willingness to try and stop this madness may disappear."

"You will die if you stand against beings of this level."

"Then I die, and the task you assigned to Moment all those years ago is finally completed."

Richard quickly stood as his threads retracted back into his body, he looked to Michael for a moment, almost disappointed, before leaving through the plywood door he'd entered. The Angel simply sighed and stood from the couch once he was gone, then immediately igniting it in a bright holy flame.

"Fucking animals.."

[sheepkebby]

Today I attempted to complete Dead Center on expert difficulty

This post is just gonna be screenshots of my pain and suffering, enjoy <3

Starting off, I almost immediately realized that I had modded the whole gang to be wearing pink themed outfits.

Except for Ellis ... who I had dressed in a DOOM shirt

This made me imagine that the whole team was like "yeah we're all gonna be coordinated for this challenge! we're all gonna wear pink!" and then forgot to tell Ellis. Whoops.

Anyways, the first map was fine.

The second map, however, was fucking nuts.

Nick died and was defibrillated TWICE, and then a tank appeared and incapped all the bots, so I had to 1v1 it (which I somehow succeeded in). Then we all made it to the saferoom, and by that point I was in black and white mode. I was hanging on by a thread bro lemme tell ya 😩😩😩😩

I then attempted to do the mall panic event several times, each time failing hilariously. I died to my own Molotov once.

During another attempt, a witch had us all trapped in this little room. Peed about it. (She ended up killing Nick, I swear that man's skin is as thin as toilet paper).

At that point I was complaining to my girlfriend, so she offered to jump in and help me out! So I quit out of the game to join a lobby with her.

(Before quitting out though I killed Nick just for giggles)

Don't look at the time this message was sent. Don't worry about it.

After a long struggle, gf and I managed to get back to the mall. We attempted the panic event once or twice and I eventually made it to the saferoom after she startled a witch and sacrificed herself for me <3 (She didn't INTEND to do that, still very romantic though)

Then came the finale,

And let me tell you,

You will never be more terrified than when you're trying to pour 13 gas cans into Jimmy Gibbs Jr.'s car while your partner tries to lead a tank away from you and you can hear it just a few feet away and the ground is shaking and OH GOD OH FUCK PLEASE GET IN THE FUCKING CAR AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

But, eventually, after two and half hours, we made it.

(RIP Coach he didn't survive the finale)

I am not an expert at this game. But I am absolutely going to force myself to play all the other campaigns on expert because I want the achievement and I love pain <3

(Edit) We've completed:

Dark Carnival | Swamp Fever | Hard Rain | The Parish

[writingmysanity]

Early Mornings

Prompt: Morning rain

Pairing: Eskel x reader

Word count: 877

A/N: This is meant to be a part 2 of Dark Days and Kind Words. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own

The patter of rain fills the room, streaks of water sliding down the fractured panes. It's early. The clouds illuminate the sky as lightning dances across the heavens to hum the deep rumbles echoing throughout the mountains. You Groan softly at how your body pops as you stretch, sighing in relief at the warm release of your joints. The room is still warm- the fire still strong. 

One of the others must have come in recently to tend to it.

Stifling a sigh, reaching up to tug the blanket wrapped around you more tightly, you shift a bit, getting comfortable again. There are still a few hours until morning. Curling up, you rest your head on your arms, humming softly, starting to drift when you feel the tug of the sheet against your arm. Frowning, your eyes flutter open, finding Eskel’s face to find his eyes already on you.

Sucking in a breath, you jump, hand resting over your heart, cursing quietly. He just smiles slightly, the slight turn tugging at his scars, eyes softening but he doesnt try to move any more than that.

“Eskel,” you breathe, leaning forward to place your hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb over it gently before pressing your forehead against his, breathing him in, tears pooling behind your closed eyes. 

“Hi,” he grumbles, throat dry from disuse. 

“Hi,” you smile, wet laughter shaking your shoulders slightly before opening your eyes again to meet his. “You scared me.” your voice is quiet. He sighs, wincing as he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, nose brushing against yours gently.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he hums, stiffening when he smells salt even before he feels the drip on his cheek.

“You’re crying… why are you crying?” he pushes up suddenly, swallowing his yelp of pain, shifting to face you better. Seeing the concern on his face just makes you cry harder, dissolving into his lap, shoulders shuddering with quiet sobs. His hands freeze mid-air, looking down at you, curled into his lap like a small child, clutching at his waist weakly. 

“Sweet girl… baby, love. Hey, hey,” his hands are solid as they slide down your back until he's able to gain purchase, lifting you into his arms, grunting softly at the way his stitches tug and ache, but he pays them no mind, curling you into his chest. Your head flops to his shoulder, arms curled into your chest, legs hooked to one side of his lap so when he lays down your legs are folded over his, his hands rubbing up and down your back as he holds you to him, nose buried in your hair. 

“Sh,” his voice is soft, the sound rumbling through his chest, mimicking the rumble of the thunder outside. “I’m here.” he soothes, pushing your hair from your face. “You have me.”

“I thought…” you gasp, hand shifting to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers threading in his hair, eyes flickering around to find his, relaxing some when you find them, again. “I thought… I lost you.” the last part comes out barely a whisper- as if you're afraid to say it out loud, as if that would make it true.

He softens, curling his body around yours, rubbing his nose to yours gently, hot breath fanning across your face, a gentle reminder.

“You didn't,” he hates how scared he sounds himself, how his voice cracks. You had gone down first, your own wrappings sloppy and lopsided, as if you had done them yourself. You refused help. He thought he lost you, too. You being thrown back into a tree the last thing he saw before his own world went black.

“I’m here,” he promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Sighing, you turn, pressing yourself as close as you're able, trying to avoid his injuries, your kisses desperate and rushed as your poured your feelings into it. sucking in a breath too quickly between kisses, your body shudders as you hiccup against his lips. You both pause, a giggle escaping you, tension dissipating some.

“Breath, Kit,” he chuckles, pressing his lips to the corner of yours, nuzzling you gently, his scruff tickling your skin. Wiggling in his hold, you smile as the larger emotions subside. 

“You’re tickling me,” you grumble playfully, scrunching up your nose. Chuckling, he shifts to hover above you slightly.

“Oh? Does this tickle?” he asks, his baritone soothing, even as he bends to rub his cheek against yours, making you squeal a laugh, gently pushing at his shoulders, in vain. 

“Eskel!” he laughs, pulling back slightly, rubbing his cheek with one hand. 

“I really need to shave,” he hums, smiling. “I've really let myself go.” pushing up onto your elbows, your head falls back into the pillow so that you can take all of him in, slowly moving to hold his cheek. 

“I don't know,” you hum. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, lowering himself back down to cuddle you back into his chest.

“Yeah,” shifting back in his arms you drape an arm over his middle, nosing against his chest. “It looks good.”

“Then, I guess ill keep it.” there's a pause before you grin again.

“Clean it up though.”

“Yes, dear.”

--

Tag list: @errruvande @thesleepy1 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @queenxxxsupreme @screechingdreamercollectorsblog @open--till--midnight @one-eyed-captain-kinky

@seidenbros @cosmos-coma @deanmcogorman

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or ask or something.

[running-with-kn1ves]

I loved your yandere! Male Beldam X Reader

Could you do Belsire again, but fluff this time? I love monsters, and I think they deserve some love too ✨

Wow! Everybody really liked male beldam-- super happy that he was enjoyed! and you're right anon, monsters deserve wholesomeness too >:) The og can be found here!

TW: Threats, possessive/ unhealthy behaviors, abuse 

Male! Beldam X GN! Reader

He demanded your utmost silence and stillness, watching you thread the needle in and out. You were no world class seamster, but weaving thread through a few holes wasn’t as hard as it looked. Well, it was easier when you weren’t sitting uncomfortably on someone’s lap, feeling and hearing their every move. 

The belsire for an unknown reason required your presence at the moment; you didn’t dare talk back, instead moving to the kitchen table with him, bringing your work with you. Being in the middle of sewing up a hole in his coat, you focused intently on stitching before he lifted you-- situating you onto his lap. Despite the sunken in and boney form he was left with, the belsire was indubitably strong. His fingers curled around your soft skin, digging into it to pull you slightly up. His thighs shifted sharply underneath. propping up your back against his chest, you felt surreal being in such a close position with your captor. 

A faint scent of bergamot and chamomile filled your nose. The belsires chest expanded against you as his breath hit your ear, making your hands shake. It was strange, he felt almost human like this. Often your close proximity to him was more demon-like: the cold of each finger and sunken in skin terrifying his victims to the core.

Outside, loud rushes of rain poured on and off. At the moment it’s weak thump against the roof was calming, letting you grow sleepy to the low candlelight and rhythmical in and out of your needle. Though the clearing of the belsire’s throat brought you out of that trance, making you straighten. The tips of each shoulder touched his own as you fixed your posture, making you seem more presentable. 

The creature’s hands methodically smoothened the grip of your waist, rubbing the tips of his fingers against your skin, underneath your shirt. At first you panicked, fearing he would move lower. But instead, his cold hands stayed there, drawing small circles onto the flesh. 

You were thankful he was in a good mood today; your lack of the specified clothing he had prepared would usually draw into a punishment. The belsire’s lack of harsh judgement or insulting glares almost brought genuine relief-- till he gripped harder. 

Your waist had become a malleable stress ball, the pale, tall creature’s thumbs pressing into the back of your flesh. His breath came closer, and suddenly the smell of bergamot did too. 

You felt yourself shake, bare feet growing cold. You tapped each toe against the ground lightly to keep from showing how afraid you were; playing it off as if it was a rhythmic habit. 

“Keep still. You missed a spot.” The belsire said monotonously, pointing to a gap between the thread and fabric. His jagged nail threatened to pull a few stitches out. 

You whispered the word “oh,” barely able to hide your surprise and distress. The belsire stared at your fingers, scrutinizing the way your hands quivered sewing the hole he pointed out.

Stop your incessant trembling, it’s insulting.” 

You ceased moving your feet immediately, forcing the shaking to stop. But your hands sung a different tune, continuing to move out of fear. Removing his hands from your waist, the belsire brought his long fingers against your arms, making goosebumps rise. His nimble hands covered your own, stopping your weaving with the needle. You had only a few more stitches left before finishing, it irked you but gave more unease to see him stop your work.

 There it was, his breath against your ear again. The waft of black tea and herbs you smelled every time he got near was breathtaking-- and not in a good way. 

The belsire’s fingers twitched against yours, their extreme whiteness contrasting against the fabric and your own skin tone. 

One of his hands lifted to grip your chin. The change of pressure on your knuckles and chin made you realize he was deciding whether to be firm or tender. The needle hidden beneath a mess of fingers began to poke your thumb, the pain being a small reminder that this was in fact real, and not the dream you wished it was.

His face was sunken, but not as much as it used to be. Looking at the belsire now-- he just appeared tired. Worn and sick. 

You did what you always promised you wouldn’t: you stared back at him. Instead of lowering your gaze, you made eye contact, conveying no specific emotion. 

He did the same, gazing with a bit of bored intrigue through those hollow buttons. You gave him a small, sad smile. 

You hoped he did not mistake your look for happiness; you would trade anything to leave this hellhole of a fake reality. But a part of you did feel bad. Despite it all, his grieving, almost desolate look pulled at your own emotions. 

The belsire’s face hardened, forcing your head to turn further back to stare at him. He inched closer, sharp features becoming even more terrifying as the candlelight shifted. 

“Don’t ever look at me like that,” He spat, gripping your chin harder. The freeze of his fingers dug into you, causing shivers to rise.  “Don’t you ever give me that pitied look. Do you know where you are?” 

Your body began to tremble again, dropping the needle. The belsires fingers hardened, causing your fingers to curl into a fist. His hand on your chin gripped your lower cheeks.

You continued to stare at him as he glared, his anger rising; leading no doubt to another punishment. Before he could get up and drag you to the basement again you turned and removed your hands from the belsires. Holding his face with gentleness, you did it as if not to scare or threaten him. Even though the belsires face appeared jagged and angular, it was soft and hard in the normal places like a human, truly furthering the uncanny valley he already portrayed.

Leaning in, you gave the gentlest of pecks on his cheek, not daring to go any farther.

“Calm down,” You said with risk, fully knowing the possible threat. “I didn’t look at you with pity. I understand.”

Giving him another sad smile, you stared into the empty void of buttons for eyes. The belsire stiffened, his bony hand coming up to grip your own on his cheek.

“How can a disgusting being like you understand me?”

Rhetorical and quiet, his tone was in complete contrast with the words spoken. Instead of pulling away or hurting you, he softened. The belsire moved in towards you, not even taking a glance at your lips before pressing his own on yours. They were cold and hard, but made you want to teach him gentleness. Your warm skin against his was comforting, and made you feel more secure despite the lingering threat of his mood shifting.

The belsire pushed lightly against you at first, still trying to understand how to convey the affection. You held him more firmly, moving your hands to caress his ears and hair. Small and short pecks were all you both could give, the hesitation still bubbling inside you and uncertainty in him.

Your heart pounded against your chest, but this time it wasn’t due to fear. 

[plantmusic]

[ @forgotten-teammates​ ]

Russell. Well, it wasn't a name Kain had never heard before, but it also wasn't one that was too common either.

Regardless, this Russell person was giving him space out of the rain, which was way more than he could have asked for.

The technician unlaced his boots and left them by the door as he'd been told before stepping inside.

"Thank you, Russell. Sorry if I've messed up your plans or anything, but maybe we can make something good of it, right? If you've got uh... cards or... a conversation topic you like? Maybe. Or I can just sit someplace and leave you be."

____________________

Despite seemingly being more than alright with the October chill, the interior was very warm (owed to an array, glowing soft blue, chalked above the doorway). The door shut easily behind them, and with it came the soft tinging of bells; a small wreath of dried twigs with bells hanging from it was looped around the knob.

Russell gave a soft smirk over his shoulder as he lead the way into the living room.

“Do you like music, Mr. Fuery?”

[thequeenofthewinter]

Happy Birthday Fic Friday

Hi guys, it's me again your friendly neighborhood fic writer. This week I have posted chapter 40 of my WIP, and...today we have reached 1 year since the creation of the Word document and when I first started typing this crazy thing. Happy first birthday to: "In the Midst of Winter." Thanks to all who have been with me though a year of this WIP, and I hope you're excited to see what comes next. I know I am!

Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure

Pairing: Dahlia Wintersnow (OC Dragonborn)/Ulfric Stormcloak

Rating: E (Smut, cannon-typical violence)

Warnings: Check them on AO3.

Snippet:

Then, finally, the sky unleashes the last of its fury, and one last bolt falls from the sky, aiming for Ulfric and confirming her suspicions that their proximity will not save him from herself. 

Dahlia desperately pulls deeper at the last dregs of her magicka, pouring everything she has into her ward, but it still won’t keep its form. The only thing she can do now is hold Ulfric as tightly as she can with one arm as she feebly throws up the other, as if her bare hands could stop what is coming. Tiny, exhausted tears fall from Dahlia’s eyes as she hopes that her magic will hold.

When the strike finally makes impact, it crashes into the barrier, causing her to falter slightly, but one of Ulfric’s bruised arms reaches around her to help hold her up. She will not fall, not when he is there to catch her. They promised they would do this together, and he will keep his word. At his touch, the ward blazes brighter, finally flaring to life with full power as if fueled by the love he feels for her. 

The collision of magic against magic causes a shower of sparks to rain down upon them—a dazzling spectacle of light, throwing them both into stark relief—shedding light brilliantly as the electrical currents fall and glimmer. However, this wondrous phenomenon—an outstanding feat of both science and magic coming together—is completely ignored by the only two people who can see it. They are completely blinded to it as there is only one thing either one of them sees: the other. 

Gradually, as tiny, winking sparks of magic fall around them, electricity of a different type builds between them. They are magnets tugging powerfully towards each other; gravity pulling celestial bodies into orbit around the other. It is much like destiny—something inevitable, bringing two beings together, and they cannot escape it—or are not willing to fight it. Because in this case, neither of them minds much as they each lean in closer until their lips touch, tentatively at first and then hungrily: hands mimicking tongues, as they explore the other seemingly unable to get close enough to the other. 

The kiss is not quiet like a whisper or a sigh, nor it is gentle and polite in its technique. It is loud, untamed, and very much selfish in its expression, every caress of their tongues and clash of their teeth proclaiming to the other their devotion and affection in equal measure. Neither is to be outdone, and their desperate dance increases in rhythm until it reaches its climax, the sensation breaking over them both as their souls fall firmly back to the ground. 

Everything about Ulfric calls to Dahlia to give in to him, reaching out to grab hold of her and refusing to let her go. He is all she sees, and he is all she knows in this moment. It is only now as she looks at him under the pale light of the rising moon that she can fully appreciate the entirety of who he is and what he does to her. It pulls at the seams of who she is, slowly unraveling threads of her to put her back together as something new; a tempting tapestry of both of them bound together as his deep blue threads intertwine with the gold of her own, an action mirrored by their tongues touching together lightly, yet fervently, stitching them back together and sealing their fate.

When Dahlia finds her voice, she cannot help but speak the question which has been on her mind since she first saw him in the clearing. “Why in the world did you follow me? This was too dangerous, and you know it.” Silent tears trail down her face, and Ulfric wipes them away gently. “I could have lost you.”

His response is simple. “You should know better by now. I would follow you anywhere, no matter how far. Even to Sovngarde.” 

[mamichigo]

Title: at the bottom (where the eyes can't see)

Pairing: Kokichi/Shuichi

Rating: G

Word count: 2,1k

Tags: Hope's Peak AU, Post Hope's Peak, Bittersweet, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Aged-up characters

Summary: "Because, one year ago, Kokichi disappeared without a trace before he could even attend the graduation ceremony."

Shuichi meets Kokichi again.

Notes: Gift for participant #32 in the @kokichigiftexchange

*

"Ouma-kun?"

It's too early in the morning to encounter anyone; the only sound at the beach is the quiet murmur of the waves. A lone person stands where the waves come to lap at their bare feet, and the person shivers in what he can only presume is freezing water. Shuichi is compelled to attribute it to a Christmas phantom, a hallucination born out of wishful thinking.

But he recognizes that messy head of hair, the diminutive stature. Kokichi Ouma looks like he hasn't changed at all, just like he stepped out of one of Shuichi's restless dreams.

His feet crunch on the sand, and it's that rather than the whispered name that alerts Kokichi to his presence. He turns with eyes narrowed, but suspicion melts into recognition when he spots Shuichi. To his surprise, that look morphs into horror almost immediately. Kokichi takes a step back and looks around.

"You don't need to run away," Shuichi hurries to reassure him. "If you don't want to talk, that's… That's okay."

It isn't. Just insinuating it is makes him nauseous. Kokichi smiles in a cynic way that tells him he's still just as good at spotting lies. But, right now, as long as he can make Kokichi stay, Shuichi will tell as many white lies as necessary.

Because, one year ago, Kokichi disappeared without a trace before he could even attend the graduation ceremony.

"It's been awhile," Shuichi whispered.

Kokichi's shoulders hunch. Shuichi is sure that if he could, Kokichi would be putting up a physical barrier between the two of them. In the absence of that, he keeps his body language closed off, not even bothering to fully face Shuichi.

"It would've been much longer if I had my way," Kokichi snaps back. There's none of the joking, childish tone that used to always be in his voice.

"Your plan was to never see any of us again, wasn't it?" Shuichi muses to himself. He watches Kokichi's tense form. "Then, why are you here?"

Kokichi scoffs. "It's a big city, as if I ever planned to just accidentally bump into you. Or anyone, for that matter."

"No, but why would you still be in the city at all? It's not what you'd do, if you wanted to disappear."

Kokichi raises his eyebrows at him in challenge. Shuichi tries to tell himself he isn't trembling as well.

"I'd know. I looked for you."

Kokichi's eyes widen, and just for a moment, there's a crack in his mask. He bites at his bottom lip and a pained twitch appears at the corners of his eyes. Kokichi turns his head down and away, staring at something. Shuichi only now realizes Kokichi is clutching something in his hands.

"I wouldn't expect any less from the Ultimate Detective! Ah, you must be an active detective now, so I'm sure you have all kinds of resources at your disposal now. It wouldn't be hard to look for little ol' me, right?" Kokichi swirls to look at him. The smile on his face looks like it hurts his cheeks. "That's what it means to be an Ultimate, right?"

Shuichi shifts his weight, and realizes he has nothing to say to that. Kokichi was right. It was frighteningly easy to look into Kokichi's whereabouts, and even more terrifying to realize even then he couldn't find his missing ex-classmate.

Everywhere he goes, he sees his other classmates, even the ones he is no longer in contact with. On TV, billboards, online forums, on the news. Every single one of them, except Kokichi.

"What have you been up to all this time?" Shuichi asks, like he has done so many times to the silent copy of Kokichi that appears to him whenever he closes his eyes.

"This," Kokichi deadpans. "But that's not really the question you want to ask, is it, Saihara-chan?"

Shuichi looks to Kokichi's shoes, lying on the sand. To his clenched toes, dipped in water. To his fingers, almost purple at the tips where they clutch some mysterious box. Finally, he looks into Kokichi's eyes, and finds nothing but guarded apathy. Shuichi has gotten no better at reading Kokichi than he used to be when they were both attending Hope's Peak.

"What question do you think I want to ask?"

"Oh, please." Kokichi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "I'm not in the mood for the charades."

"That used to be all you were in the mood for."

"But we're not at Hope's Peak anymore, are we?"

Shuichi opens and closes his mouth a few times, but can't settle on an answer. Shuichi swallows.

"But you're still you."

"Don't act like you know me."

"Ouma-kun…"

Shuichi tries to touch his arm, if only for the comfort of knowing this Kokichi is not an illusion, but Kokichi knocks his hand away before he can get close enough to do it. Kokichi pins him with an angry look.

"Is it just me, or have you gotten bolder, Saihara-chan? Assertive, even!" Every word drips with sarcasm. "My sincere congratulations!"

Shuichi presses his lips into a straight line. He looks away for a moment, and is reminded of how cold it truly is when a gust of wind makes goosebumps raise on his flesh. Shuichi watches Kokichi's still trembling figure.

"What are you doing here, Ouma-kun?" Shuichi asks again, dread at the back of his throat.

Kokichi hums in thought. He kicks at the water half-heartedly and winces when droplets of it fall on himself. He shakes the box in his hand, and it rattles.

"To dispose of useless things," Kokichi says.

"On a Christmas morning, in the middle of Winter?"

"What can I say, it's a little symbolic this way."

"What's inside the box?"

They look at each other for a moment that's a few eternities too long. Slowly, slowly, a smile tugs at Kokichi's lips. It's small and secretive; it's the same smile Kokichi had given him the last time they talked, framed by pouring rain and dark clouds. Shuichi's breath catches in his throat.

"Nothing worth remembering."

Perhaps it's the shock of the sudden memory that makes him stand there and watch as Kokichi raises his hands above his head and throws the box into the ocean. Kokichi turns like he means to leave, and the box falls into the water with a wet plop. Shuichi looks from one to the other, and chases after the sinking box.

He manages to see Kokichi whip his head back to look at him, but he doesn't have the time to think about that.

"Saihara-chan!" Kokichi yells when his body hits the water.

Shuichi takes a deep breath and dives. The freezing cold shocks him into almost inhaling the water, but Shuichi slaps a hand to his mouth and swallows the urge to gasp for breath. The seawater stings at his open eyes, but he has enough visibility to see the dark polish of the wooden box. Shuichi grabs for it and resurfaces with a gasp.

He doesn't get out of the water immediately, floating there and breathing with his eyes closed. His fingers are slippery, but he cradles the box to his chest and doesn't let go.

"Saihara-chan!" Kokichi yells again. 

Shuichi raises his head slowly. Numbly, he waves to Kokichi. It takes some effort to drag himself out the water with his clothes weighing him down, but Shuichi manages to get back to shore. 

Shuichi never imagined he'd spend his morning diving into the ocean, with a fuming Kokichi glaring at him. He almost laughs. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kokichi hisses. He gets into Shuichi's personal space, raised to the tip of his toes to grab Shuichi by the lapels of his coat. The seawater in his hair drips onto Kokichi's cheeks. "I know you can be stupid, but this is a new low!"

Shuichi nods numbly. "A-At least…" His teeth chatter. "At least I got it. The box."

Kokichi stares incredulously at the wooden box. Shuichi can nearly see it when the thread that holds him together snaps.

"You think I care?! I was here to throw that away, you idiot! This was supposed to be the last of— Of all this!" Kokichi shook him roughly.

"Wait, Ouma-kun, that hurts—"

"That stupid school, this city, this useless thing they called a talent. I'm getting rid of all of it."

Kokichi continues his barrage, and Shuichi has to step back when Kokichi gets too close. In the frenzy, they end up tangled in each other's feet, and they both fall painfully. Shuichi winces, but Kokichi isn't deterred. If anything, he looks all the more furious.

"You can't stop me from doing it, Saihara-chan," Kokichi says in a fervent whisper.

"You were trying to say goodbye," Shuichi realizes.

For a tense moment, neither of them speak. Kokichi is still furious above him, expression twisted. Shuichi has a feeling that, if he was capable of doing it sincerely, Kokichi would be crying. Shuichi wants to hug him.

He chuckles quietly.

"What are you laughing about?"

"That's the first time you've ever been this sincere with me," Shuichi says with a smile he knows is too soft.

Kokichi sighs exasperatedly and hangs his head. He ends up with his forehead to Shuichi's collarbone. He's still clutching Shuichi's coat tightly.

"I hate you," Kokichi says.

"I missed you," Shuichi answers.

He dares lay a hand on Kokichi's head, and though he flinches, he doesn't say anything about it. Shuichi runs his fingers from his scalp to the tip of his hair. He gently plays with the tips like he so starkly remembers Kokichi doing whenever he was focused on whatever thoughts were on his mind. Shuichi can see it, in his mind's eyes: Kokichi sitting on the table, legs crossed, grinning as he lies through his teeth about one thing or another.

He doesn't have the time to dwell on the memory, as Kokichi grows antsy in the prolonged contact. He pushes himself away and sits on the sand next to Shuichi. He's still within arm's reach, Shuichi notes as he sits up as well.

Kokichi forces him to remove his outer layer and offers his own coat in exchange.

"Thank you."

"Whatever."

Kokichi rests his cheek on his knee and doesn't bother looking at Shuichi again. Shuichi frowns, just a little bit, but concedes that at least Kokichi has yet to leave.

"Why did you disappear?" Shuichi asks.

"There it is, the million dollar question," Kokichi deadpans with a huff. He draws on the sand with his finger, and Shuichi can see he's pouting too. "Does it really matter?"

"I spent the last year searching for any clues of what might have happened to you." Shuichi allows for just a hint of steel to appear in his voice. "It matters."

Kokichi pauses for a moment. Then, he's right back to doodling. Shuichi can identify what looks like the hat he used to wear.

"There's only so much time you can spend on a farce. Every game has an ending. That's part of the fun too. You could say I got bored."

Shuichi observes him. He wonders if taking Kokichi's coat was a good idea, as he's shaking now more than ever. What he can see of his face is pale, with the exception of the underside of his eyes. He looks shockingly smaller. Shuichi realizes it's because his personality is so muted, a stark difference to how he presented himself so loudly before, impossible to ignore.

"Rather than bored, you just sound tired," Shuichi gently says.

"Thanks, Mr. Detective."

There is more to it than Kokichi is saying, but this is already more personal information than Kokichi would ever reveal about himself. They have time, enough for Shuichi to prod at his motivation, to peel the layers of what happened to Kokichi. He can only hope that's true.

"What are you going to do now?" 

"Same thing I've been doing. Which is to say, nothing." Kokichi seems to remember something. He shifts a little to point at the box Shuichi is holding. "Ah, you can keep that. You went through the trouble of throwing yourself into the ocean for it, so you win."

"I didn't know we were playing," Shuichi jokes.

"Aren't we always."

Carefully, Shuichi undoes the clasp that holds the lid closed. Inside the box, they are a number of little trinkets that he doesn't recognize, and a few he does. He sees a star pin he had won for Kokichi in a festival.

At the bottom of it all, there are a couple of pictures. The one at the top had his own face smiling up at him, with a laughing Kokichi clinging to him by the neck, half raised off the floor.

Shuichi turns a fond smile at Kokichi, but he's still resolutely avoiding eye contact. Shuichi keeps that secret to himself, and reaches for his friend's hand instead. Just a touch of his pinky to Kokichi's. Kokichi twitches, but his hand stays right where it is. 

"I'm glad I didn't let you throw it away."

[thebestbooksaround]

Second ask because I didn't want to post both in the same one. Hope that's okay! Do you know any rare pair fics? I read a Stiles/Danny fic and loved it and would love to read more! Possibly Stiles and Parish or Derek and Parish???

Hello! I mostly read Steter and Sterek, but I have read a couple that doesn’t feature them as the main pair. 

Elemental by Copperspecks 

Stargent | 20k | Teen

Chris is a man driven by guilt and desperation. Stiles is a lost, stolen child who thrums with undeniable power. Chris knows he’ll do whatever it takes to save the only family he has left, no matter what he has to do to succeed. One more sin can’t destroy an irredeemable soul.

Stained Glass Windows by KouriArashi

Petopher | 85k | Mature

Peter survives the fire and suddenly finds himself trying to raise children with only a vague notion of what he's doing, while trying to cope with his own grief and find his family's murderer. He ends up turning to Chris Argent for help, and nothing goes as expected.

'll Dissolve When The Rain Pours In, When The Nightmares Take Me by clotpolesonly

Stackson | 38k | Teen

When Stiles finally managed to contort himself the right way without causing injury, he stared at the words on his inner thigh. And then he stared some more, long enough for the water to grow cold around him, wondering if this was part of the dream. Finally he decided that it had to be real only because his subconscious was not creative enough to come up with this.

There, in freckle-brown letters stark against pale skin, was the name Jackson Whittemore.

Possible Still by rosepetals42

Skittles | 10k | Mature

Stiles gets very good at putting himself back together. He learns which cuts just need butterfly bandages and which need actual stitches and he knows to keep a needle threaded because trying to get everything ready when you're shaking from blood loss is fucking hard. (Not impossible though, he learns that too. There's not much that is impossible when you don't have any other options.)

Post 5A - Stiles may not be in the pack anymore, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop fighting.

Dude, bro by rosepetals42

Skittles Friendship | 7k | Teen

“It’s Mister Stilinski,” Stiles repeats. “That- uh. There’s a mistake. On the paperwork. It’s Mister.” That was all it was. Just a mistake on the paperwork. On the school records and his birth certificate and his social security card. On all the paperwork. But still, just a mistake. That’s what his therapists said. His cells had made a little mistake but it isn’t disgusting or wrong or sick. He isn’t a mistake. Just the papers. His body.

--

And I realize now that my list isn’t half as long as I thought... So if anyone has some good recs, send them our way!

Also, I am a HUGE Stetopher fan, so I don’t know if they count as rare, but they aren’t common?

--

Chaos is my Companion by Bunnywest

Stetopher | 16k | Mature

Stiles is plenty organized when it comes to important stuff like his work okay? It's just little things like finding his wallet, charging his phone, and keeping track of who the hell he has a date with that he has trouble with. _____________________________________________________________ Both men spot him at the same time. “Stiles?” they say in unison, and then stare at each other, looking slightly put out. “This is your date?” Peter says, a crease appearing between his brows. “Well, yeah.” (Chris, the mechanic’s name is Chris, Stiles’ mind finally supplies.) Two sets of eyes turn to him, and Stiles has a sudden sinking feeling in his gut. He remembers arranging to meet Peter, sure, but what’s Chris doing here?

Bigfoot Told Me You Were Coming by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Stetopher | 25k | Teen

Peter and Chris are on the run when they stumble across Stiles' home in the woods.

The Rule of Three by DiscontentedWinter

Stetopher | 70k | Mature

In order to make their relationship legitimate in the eye of wider society, alphas Chris Argent and Peter Hale have to claim an omega. Stiles Stilinski, who should be the solution to their problems, instead turns out to be the first piece in a puzzle that some elements in society would prefer remain unsolved.

All My Stars Aligned by Green

Stetopher | 21k | Explicit

Stiles needs to find an alpha ASAP. Actually, the doctors say he really needs two. Damn biology.

Chris and Peter are two alphas in hopeless, doomed love with each other.

--

Also, this one is Sterek, But Derek doesn’t show up until like halfway, and we get to read the amazingness that is Cora Hale and Stiles Stilinski’s friendship.

Dirty Little Secret by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Sterek | 91k | Explicit

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

[angelsswirl]

Vellichor

The One With Sides to Pick

Notes: I promise I'm working on Dysfunctional, I was just trying to get some ideas on the page and ended up finishing the whole thing at 3 am. So here is sumn slight.

Ratings: T

When it rains it pours. Stay thirsty like before. Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?

"She's coughing again, but nothing comes up. It's just a loud, scary, dry cough. I don't know what to do, Grammy." Ryland spoke through the phone on the verge of tears. She looked at her younger sister who was trying to occupy their baby brother. He had been getting restless with you out of commission for the past 4 days.

"Okay, honey, calm down for me. I'm on my way. In the meantime, make sure she has lots of liquids. Use the money I sent you to order a pack of Gatorade and some sipping soup from the grocery store. It'll probably beat me there." Maria spoke about as soothingly as she possibly could to her granddaughter. Making sure she understood her directions clearly and concisely.

"Okay." Ryland mumbled somewhat pathetically.

"Where is Lia?" Maria asked over the chime of her keys.

Ryland scowled to herself, she looked over to Peyton who rolled her eyes with a shrug, "We don't know. She's been answering texts extremely slowly. She's probably with Jisoo."

"Hey, Ry. I know you're mad at her but don't be disrespectful. She's still your mother."

"If she was our mother, she'd come the fuck home." Peyton mumbled from her spot on the livingroom floor.

"Hit your sister upside the head for me."

"How'd she even hear that?!"

"I'm not as old as you think, young lady."

Peyton only pouted and resumed helping Kaleb build his tower.

"Grammy?" He asked Peyton.

She hummed, "Yeah. She's on the phone with Ry. She's coming soon so you can see her then."

Kaleb nodded in response and resumed his tower building as well.

"Alright, I'm in the car now. I'll be there as soon as I can." Maria spoke.

"Ok. Please hurry. I feel like I'm her mom and not the other way around." Ryland said solemnly.

Maria sighed heavily, "I know, baby. I'm sorry. But you have to hang on and do what I said."

Ryland nodded even though her grandmother couldn't see it.

"And make sure Lia gets her ass home or else."

"Yes, ma'am. Bye. I love you. See you soon."

"Bye, darling. Love you too."

Ryland hung up and clicked through to her text thread with Lia.

To Lia-r: Grammy said to get your dumbass home or else she'll beat the shit out of you.

Lia walked through the door 20 minutes later.

"Where have you been? Mom needs an alpha that's not four years old and obsessed with legos! And if it's not mama then you're the next best thing." Peyton yelled as soon as her sister walked through the door.

"...Work?"

"Is that a question? You're such a horrible liar."

"Let me at her, Ry. I promise I'll only hurt her a lot." Lia should have thanked her lucky stars that Kaleb started to tug on Peyton's hands to bring her attention back to him and his blocks.

"Why does it matter where I was?"

"Because you weren't here! Mom needed you and you were hanging out with Jisoo probably! While I was taking care of mom and Peyton was taking care of Kaleb."

Lia didn't speak. She just let Ryland yell.

"She's your mother too, Lia!"

"I know that. But you don't get it. It's an alpha thing."

"You're so fucking stupid. Mom is sick because your mother is an asshole."

"She's your mother too, Ryland."

Peyton just shook her head at her older siblings. She agreed with Ryland but she just couldn't take all of the arguing. Not after listening to her parents argue as well.

She sneakily snuck out of eyesight, than grabbed for Lia's keys. She had to get out of that godforsaken house.

"What are you doing here?" Maya asked with a blush on her cheeks. She had answered the door in a t-shirt and boxers expecting for Lia to have forgotten her key again.

Peyton stared directly at the slightly older girl's crotch. Rolling her eyes when Maya swiped her hands in front to shield herself.

"Nice tighty-whities." Peyton said sarcastically as she pushed passed Maya and into the moderately sized apartment.

Maya swiped a pair of sweatpants conveniently from the couch and hobbled into them awkwardly.

"Again, I ask, what are you doing here?"

Peyton crossed her arms and sat on the couch. Maya sat next to her in a similar position.

"I just had to get away for a bit. I can't wait to move out."

Maya hummed and threw her arm around the back of the couch, "Sure you can. Living on your own isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"You do it."

Maya chuckled, "No I don't. I live with your sister. With the help of my parents. And on a hope and a prayer."

Peyton cracked a small smile before it quickly disappeared again.

"Well, it's happening soon whether any of us like it or not."

"Yeah. I think you'll enjoy college." Maya said with a hint of something else in her voice, "Just don't run off with the first alpha you see, okay?"

"Bae Maya. Why I never. Is that jealousy I hear?" Peyton scooted closer to Maya on her own accord.

"Nope. Just self preservation." Maya smirked, "Just don't want you to get over that little crush you have on me that I'm not supposed to know about so quickly. It would hurt my little heart."

Peyton leaned closer to Maya, "I don't think you have to worry about that."

Peyton captured Maya's lips in hers. The latter of whom let out a mildly surprised and embarrassing squeak.

The kiss quickly turned passionate. Peyton gripped the collar of Maya's shirt, holding it as she layed herself backwards on the couch.

Maya broke the kiss with a look of concern, "Are you sure? You're pretty much writing my name in the Death Note. Meaning your mom is going to kill me. We can back up now if you want to keep me alive. But just know, I'm very much willing to die for this."

Peyton rolled her eyes, "I'm 100% sure, you dork."

"That's Dr. Dork to you."

"You don't have a doctorate."

"Why do you think I'm in school?"

Peyton released an involuntary smile into the next kiss.

Maria arrived to a somewhat bittersweet scene.

Ryland, Kaleb, and Lia had all fallen asleep in your bed with you.

It wasn't lost on Maria that she was missing a grandchild, but trusting that grandchild to be okay, she'd worry about that later.

Right now, it was time to rip Kim Jisoo several new ones.