#I cannot look at them without thinking about their no ear smooth head

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

I have three thoughts that pop up every time I see a dusthide. Not all of them each time, but at least one

Most common thought: he have no ears 😭

Second most common: armadillo (armadillos have ears though, so I guess more pangolin? But the way they are segmented… the pangolin thing reminds me of their claws more though. Hmm, overthinks what species of real animals one can compare them to)

And the final one: so, remember those toys from the 2000s that you put on a magnet and they went from a ball to a little guy?

Update, I have gotten sleep and am now confused about why I was so sad every time I saw that they had no ears

[earthtooz]

x : SLEEPY FAVOUR :*+ﾟ

in which: you've unwillingly become jing yuan's cuddle buddy for his afternoon naps.

warnings: fluff, 700 wc, bad writing lul, established relationship, dialogue-heavy, gn!reader teases a clingy!jing yuan.

a/n: two fics in two days. wow. who am i. enjoy. (i posted an itoshi rin fic yesterday pls feel free to check it out!)

“you cannot keep doing this, jing yuan.”

sitting up to look at the man, your complaint is hushed quickly by the general, who places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you back down into his arms. he wraps himself around you like a vine and you groan at the suffocating sensation. still, jing yuan does not let up, not giving in to your complaints and grumbles as he draws circles on your arm.

“when you messaged me earlier about paying you a visit, i did not anticipate for it to be because you were simply feeling lonely. and clingy,” you sigh and the white-haired laughs.

“then what else?”

“something of value? something that will contribute to the wellness of the luofu?”

“is this not of value?” 

“calling me as your cuddle buddy for your afternoon nap is hardly of value.”

“i object. in fact, i would beg to differ. is the wellbeing of the luofu’s general something to take lightly?”

you huff, turning around in his arms to face him. jing yuan looks at you through half-lidded eyes, fatigue evident in them as he smiles softly. instinctively, your hand reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind of ears and at the graze of your touch, he shuts his eyes, seemingly peaceful and content. 

“flaunting your title, are you?” you ask. “what happened to your humility?”

he’s quick to reply. “gone if it will prevent you from leaving.” 

a smooth talker. your lover, jing yuan, has always had a way with words, laced with carelessness yet drenched in honey, there’s little of him you can resist. even now, you feel your frustration subsiding with one simple comment.

“and why should the general have a few hours of the day just to slack off?” you ask. “your afternoon naps can wait, luofu’s safety shouldn’t.”

“you say that, yet how many centuries of peace have we lived through?”

“why is everything i’m saying only inflating your ego?” then, just to spite him, you pull your hand away and his eyes open at the lack of contact that grounds him to a realm of peace and comfort. immediately missing your warmth, jing yuan finds your wrist and moves it to rest on his face once more. 

you don’t give him the satisfaction, hoping to give him a piece of your mind by once again, retracting your hand out of his hold and his sleepy gaze darkens into something akin to displeasure.

“won’t you indulge in me?” questions the cloud-knight. “i have worked so hard today already, i have been looking forward to taking an afternoon nap.”

“and is that not possible without me?”

he shakes his head with the temperament of a child and a pout to match. what will the court think when they see this side of your feared and revered lover? “ever since you rest with me that day, no, and i will never go back.”

where did his perseverance go?

“you suggest these things as if i am not busy myself. i cannot listen to your every request and demand when i have mountains of work to complete too!”

“i have requested that they be pushed back until later. your schedule has been cleared out for the next few hours.”

“jing yuan!” you exclaim, pushing him away lightly. “you cannot do that!”

“i can, and i have.”

before you can even utter another word, jing yuan has rolled over to lie on top of you, placing half of his weight on you to act as an anchor, effectively preventing you from moving anywhere.

the press of his muscles against you and the tightening of his arms around your torso are like cannonballs against your determination, and considering that he discarded his armour the moment you stepped through the door, it’s only fair if you do the same.

“come on, my love, do you not care for your general?” he asks, borderlining a whine. 

“fine.” you surrender, finally wrapping your arms around him as well. “only because i want him to be at top performance.”

“what about your lover? don’t you wish for any benefits for him too?” 

“he is of lesser importance,” you tease. “in fact, he should suffer for what he puts me through.”

jing yuan chuckles and his laugh reverberates into your heart. “i would hate to be him, then."

"watch yourself, jing yuan."

"of course, anything for you," murmurs the white-haired before he finds purchase in the bend of your neck. surrounded by you, he wordlessly dozes off without a care in the world.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[lordsukunas]

the thorn in your side.

synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?

tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)

note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!

“princess! i got a favor to ask.”

“ohhhh, princess!”

“hey, princess?”

your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.

you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”

his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”

... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!

“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.

satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”

he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?

“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”

you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...

“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.

you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.

a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?

“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.

“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”

ah.

did you really?

your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.

the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”

satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”

how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?

you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”

without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.

why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!

[planet-dusk]

🏷️ dom!felix, unprotected sex, choking, pussy spanking, mentions of subspace, oral (f), cum eating

“look at me, love,” felix’s low voice purrs into your ear. “look me in the eye while i ruin you.”

he grabs your face roughly, squeezing your cheeks with the fingers of his free hand. the other is wrapped around your throat. it serves as an anchor for him to hold onto. 

as if you’d ever drift away without him. 

your eyes find his, heavy-lidded and pupils blown so wide the black nearly swallows his honeyed irises. he’s fucking into you with such torturous slow strokes it leaves your head spinning. the tender drag of his cock forms a sharp contrast with his filthy words. everything about felix is a contradiction, it seems. angelic face and deep voice. bright smile and cruel grin. gentle boyfriend and sadistic lover. 

he’s a walking paradox and it’s addicting. 

“wish the others could see us like this. see how you beg me to fuck you. how you love it when i give it to you rough.” felix tightens his grip around your throat and your cunt clenches in response, earning a low chuckle from him. “you’d like them to watch, don't you? i knew it. my filthy little kitten. always so predictable.”

he kisses the tip of your nose. there it is again, that juxtaposition. and as much as you love it when he’s sweet to you, nothing makes you feel quite as light and floaty as when he’s treating you roughly. 

“lix, harder, please…” you’re not sure if you mean the way he’s grinding against you, or his hand squeezing your neck, or his vulgar words. you want everything all at once. 

when he pulls out you pout at the sudden emptiness. “turn around, kitten. ass up,” he instructs and you flip yourself onto your stomach, back arching for him. ready and eager. 

“such a pretty pussy.” felix admires the way your juices coat your thighs. he’ll never tire of the sight. with the flat of his hand he lands a quick spank on your clit and you cry out at the sting. the sharp pain bleeds into pleasure, settling deep in your core.

“look at you, baby. always dripping for me. want me to give you some more?” 

his hands knead your ass, spreading your cheeks so he can spit in your hole. you wiggle your hips a little to encourage him. 

“use your words, kitten. tell me what you want.” felix smears his saliva all over your glistening cunt. he gives your clit a soft tap with his fingers and you jolt. even the smallest of touches feels so fucking good, but it’s not enough to snap the thread coiling in your tummy. “you like it when i hurt you?”

“yes, m-more, please—ahh,” you gasp when he immediately complies, spanking your clit harshly in rapid succession. 

you’re whimpering and moaning, hands clawing at the sheets while felix lands slap after slap on your swollen cunt. “‘s good, lixie, don’t stop… ‘m gonna cum…” 

there’s drool on his sheets but you don’t care, too fucked out to focus on anything else but the pleasure he’s granting you. felix alternates his harsh slaps with merciful brushes of his fingers, circling your entrance before spanking your engorged clit again.

“let go, kitten. gonna fuck you through it… fill you up with my cum, stuff your pretty pussy until you’re so full of me you cannot think of anything else,” felix growls, voice dropping even lower than usual. there’s a sliver of desperation in the grittiness, his cock no doubt weeping and aching for you. 

you cum with his name on your lips and your face buried into the mattress. bliss spreads through your body while your cunt twitches around nothing until felix pushes into you with one smooth stroke, your walls clamping down around him. “fuck, you feel so good, i’m not gonna last long—”

you feel so full, cunt still sensitive from his rough treatment. before you know it another orgasm washes over you as the head of his cock kisses your gummy spot. it’s nearly too much this time, your body already going slack before the convulsions have stopped. “that’s my good girl, take it, take my cum,” felix grits out before emptying himself deep inside of you. 

he pulls out and massages your legs, gently lowering you down onto the bed. “you did so well, kitten,” he smiles at your spent form. “let me get you cleaned up.”

in your fuzzy daze you miss his devious smirk when he lowers himself to the bed, pushing your thighs apart and licking a long stripe from your clit to your ass. he laps at the mixture of cum spilling from your hole, chuckling when you sob in oversensitivity as he sucks on your clit. “stay still, love,” felix warns you. “i need to get every drop.” 

it doesn’t take long for the familiar pleasure to build in your core again and you spread your legs wider, arching your hips against his face. no matter how much pain and pleasure he inflicts on you, it’s never enough. “there she is again,” felix murmurs in amusement and presses a soft kiss to your pussy. “my needy little kitten.”

[rosieofcorona]

All We Do Not Say

Hi beloveds! I have crafted a soft little Gale fic for you because it's my firm belief that everyone's favorite wizard deserves all the warmth in the world. 😌 Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

There was a time in his life that Gale could sleep anywhere, provided he had a good book and a space to sit down. 

In Waterdeep, he might wake in his armchair or on his balcony with the weight of an ancient tome still resting in his lap, or at his desk, his cheek pressed against parchment. The smell of it, of ink and lignin, would bring him back to his senses before his eyes were fully open, and he’d recall what he’d been studying, and begin reading again. 

At home, in his tower, he could do this night after night and still feel mostly rested come morning. 

But he is far from his tower, and farther each day.

Perhaps it is the orb that keeps him up as of late, with its insatiable, unnatural hunger, or perhaps it is the tadpole that wriggles and pulses impatiently inside his skull. Or it could, he supposes, be the simpler and less curable matter of aging– an affliction that seems, on occasion, more frightening than either of the others. 

Whatever the cause of his recent insomnia, it pulls Gale into a rather distressing cycle– he cannot sleep, so he cannot focus, so he cannot read, so he cannot sleep. 

Instead, he finds himself offering to keep watch over camp in the evenings, if only for the distraction. The far-off gibbering of a newborn gnoll, the crunch of foliage under goblin feet, an animal scream– each night a fresh and distant horror calls his mind away from greater threats, from illithids and tadpoles and gods.

It’s an odd remedy, he knows. But the alternative is lying awake in his tent, turning death over and over in his mind until the thought is worn smooth as a river stone. 

It works well for a time, keeps his mind on the present and off of some vague, future doom.

That is, at least, until they reach the Underdark. 

Deep beneath Faerûn, there is something profoundly disturbing about the lack of…well, everything. They find no grand cities or quaint little villages, few animals and even fewer people. 

No trees, no light. No sky. 

Most nights spent underground are so quiet that Gale may as well stay in his bedroll, staring up at a canopy of fabric, dark as the velvet earth above them. 

He thinks, It is like being buried alive, without even the stars to bear witness. 

On these nights he can feel the stones in his head turning over.

Even so, come the evening (or what he guesses is evening), Gale volunteers to stand sentinel for the fifth time in a tenday. 

He always asks them after dinner, when his companions are most likely to agree, after his cooking has warmed them and filled their bellies and made them want nothing more than to close their eyes and dream of somewhere, anywhere else. 

Tav is the only one who protests with any frequency, the only one who seems to notice that the circles under his eyes are half a shade darker than they were yesterday, when they were half a shade darker than the day before. 

Even on nights when she convinces someone else to take his place, he will relieve them after Tav has gone to sleep. 

It starts the same way every time. 

Gale walks the perimeter in an infinite loop, looking for life in the darkness, illuminated only by the fire in the center of their camp. It makes him feel like a distant planet, nearly untouched by the sun. How strange to think that he’d once felt like the sun itself. 

He continues in his orbit until the subterranean cold gnaws at his limbs. It bites down hard on his nose and ears and fingers, chases him back to the fire, back to the light. 

Hypnotized by the flames and their radiant warmth, he does not hear the quiet stirring in the tent beyond his own, doesn’t hear the soft approach of nimble feet. 

A voice comes to him out of the darkness.

“I hope you’re not keeping watch again.” 

“Mystra,” Gale gasps, startled, the goddess’s name invoked in equal parts a prayer, a curse.

“Forgive me,” Tav says, through a laugh she cannot help. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” If it were anyone else he might be annoyed, or even a little embarrassed– but the sound of her laughter bubbles like seafoam over sand, rushes over and around him. Coupled with the relief that she is not some dreadful creature of the Underdark, he finds it difficult to feel anything besides affection. 

“It’s quite alright,” he recovers, with a shake of his head. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Then I really hope you’re not keeping watch.” 

She is teasing him now, just lightly, a familiar spark of warmth behind her eyes. 

It is the same look she gives him when she brings him a new book, or when he cooks for her, or when he tells her about Waterdeep. It is the same look she gave him earlier in the day, when she had offered to brew him a tea that might help him to sleep.

Gale has trouble remembering the last time another looked at him this way, so interested and inviting and earnest. 

Perhaps, he thinks, another never has. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asks, when he’s been quiet for too long.  

“Of course,” he says with the sincerity of a promise, offered with a smile that he hopes will be convincing. “Just lost in thought.” 

There is a part of him that doesn’t want to leave it there, that wants to share his every thought with her, his every terror, every dream. She must know that there is more to it, must’ve learned by now to recognize when Gale isn’t telling her everything, but he is grateful that she doesn’t press him, never presses him. 

Instead she breaks into a grin and says, “You’re lucky I’m not a bulette.” 

“I’m lucky they’re not so light-footed. What are you doing up, anyway?”

“The cold always wakes me, sooner or later,” Tav sighs. “If I’d known it was so godsdamned frigid down here, I might’ve nicked a fur or two from the Zhent.” 

It’s Gale’s turn to laugh, though she’s only half-joking. 

She’s drawn near to him, to the flames, her palms outstretched, her fingers spread wide as if to grab hold of as much warmth as possible. 

“But it’s alright,” she continues, “So as long as I’m close to the fire.” 

“Any closer and you’ll be in it, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can help.” 

Tav tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow in a curious little expression. “Can you?”

“If you’ll allow me.” 

Gale turns to face her fully, and she mirrors him out of instinct. 

“Hold out your hands to me,” he says. “Palms together, just barely. Like you’re praying.” 

“Like this?” “Like that.” 

The spell is one his mother taught him, among the first he’d ever learned. 

He still remembers that winter in Waterdeep, when the snow fell hard and fast. When the ice in the harbor kept the ships at arm’s length and the frozen streets shone like glass. He was young then, six or seven, but even now he can feel his small hands in Morena’s, warmed by a word and a touch. 

Warm and fed, she used to tell him. That’s how you show someone they’re loved. 

Gale cages Tav’s hands lightly in his own, the way he might hold a butterfly. He pushes all thoughts of winter away and calls to mind the rippling heat of summer, an orchard grown fat with peaches, the silvery shimmer of sweat on skin. 

The rose-petal flush of a cheek cradled in a hand, her cheek, his hand…

“Calor aestas,” he says quietly, when the image comes into clear view. He feels the cold melt from her fingers, hears the comfortable sigh that follows. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Much.” 

She is looking at him now with an intensity he has not seen since the night he first showed her the Weave, all that time ago. The night he saw her thoughts laid bare, had all but felt her lips on his. 

Had she seen them now, the visions he had conjured? Had she felt him pull her close in his own mind?

Tav clears her throat softly and he comes back to himself, his heartbeat thrashing wildly in his chest. He realizes with some urgency that he has not let her go and pulls back suddenly, but not without reluctance. 

“I hope,” he swallows, trying to compose himself. “I hope it helps you sleep.” 

“Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Yes, he thinks selfishly, Yes. Stay up with me, stay close to me, always. 

He shakes his head instead. “You should rest while the spell holds.”

“And how long is that?”

“As long as I’m able to concentrate.” 

He will think of her hands and their pull on a bowstring, their pluck of a lyre, their grip on a sword. How they weave her own magic, how they cradle a book. How they felt clasped in his, soft and cold. 

A focus worth holding, at last. 

“Only if it’s no trouble,” she says. 

“None at all.” 

Gale is grateful that he manages to stop himself, for once, from saying the rest of the thought as it enters his head. I would think of you anyway, magic or no.  

Tav takes his hand in hers again, this time to squeeze it fondly.

For a moment, he feels that if he were to die just now– from the orb, from the tadpole, in the jaws of a hungry bulette– it would all have been worth it, for this. 

“Thank you, Gale.”

Her smile is warmer than any summer he remembers, brighter than any star he can name.

[littleplantfreak]

Say my name - Sakura Haruka

Normally I'm bad with titles but without further ado! A ficlet(?) about Sakura struggling to call his lovely partner by their first name! It's SFW (but still under the cut) btw

I tried to keep it they/them for neutrality but if you find a stray 'she' somewhere that's my bad

(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

“I really don’t know what to do with him Suo! Every time he tries to say it he just freezes and sputters until he calls me ‘you’ or he changes it to another word last minute. Last week he tried so hard he nearly turned purple and gave himself a headache!” whining, you practically drape yourself over the table in defeat.

“Wow…our captain really is shy when it comes to that stuff, huh?” Suo’s holding back but you can tell he wants to laugh. Once Sakura shows up he’ll throw a teasing remark or two in but you’ll still be at square one.

“Maybe a nickname? Or what if you don’t look at him when he says it? What if he spells it out-“

“I don’t think we need to go that far,” interjecting gently before Nirei could start going through an insane list of things that may or may not actually work for the present problem, Suo leans forward, looking at you from across the table. “There’s something we can try that might work if you're up for it."

——

It’s not a bad plan actually, if more simple than you thought it’d be. You’re waiting behind the support wall in the middle of Cafe Pothos, obscured from anyone just walking in. Nirei and Suo are at the same table near the front that you were at before, and Kotoha is cleaning dishes at the sink, though she knows what’s going on and has a ear turned towards the main stage of this event making sure she doesn’t miss a thing.

From where you’re peeking before Haruka opens the door, you can see Nirei’s tense shoulders, both trying and failing to appear casual not that your boyfriend will pay it any mind. Sometimes you're afraid he'll end up like Hiragi and his nervous stomach issues. Suo is the picture of tranquility as he eyes Nirei’s notebook before greeting Haruka. You hear your boyfriend stop, possibly looking around for where you said you’d be waiting for him earlier.

“Where’s-”

“A-ah…”

“Bathroom~,” Suo singsongs smoothing over his partner’s stuttering. “By the way, Nirei’s been wondering about their first name! It seems the notebook page he has on them is incomplete without it…” he’s drawing attention, not to the boy himself, but the pen and notebook he’s gripping on to waiting on Sakura to take the bait. Nirei had opted for silence as he clicks his pen and as if to write it down.

"It’s-" a short pause before he actual says the full weight of your name, matter of factly too, without fumbling it at all and you’re suddenly too giddy to contain yourself.

“S-Sorry I wasn’t listening. Could you say it again?” Nirei squeaks out.

There’s annoyance in his voice as Sakura says it again, and before he can get anything else out, you’ve decided this is your cue.

“Yes, Haruka?” You blink looking at him, poorly portraying innocence but you can tell blood is rushing to your face and you cannot rub your smile off if you tried.

“Oh my~ Sakura you’re so bold calling your partner by their first name!” Red eyes glittering wickedly as he taunts “How romantic!” He gasps with a hand over his mouth. Looking flustered but proud is Nirei, nodding vigorously, and Kotoha giving Sakura a pat on the back in congratulations. You’re proud of him yourself, despite having to coax your name out of him with the help of his vice captains.

He's wide-eyed going between you and Suo, gears clicking in to place that he'd been set up as he settles for firing at the brunette "Wha- you- I'm GONNA KNOCK YA-,"

"Oookay we're heading out now!" Before he starts a fight, you link an arm through his and begin leading him towards the door. He’s puffed up like an angry cat but his body completely yields when it’s you who’s maneuvering him away the cafe after saying a quick goodbye to everyone.

It's quiet, the path you take through town on the way to your house and he doesn't look at you when he mumbles a quiet apology. You aren't quite sure what he’s apologizing for but you stop walking and wait for him to start speaking again.

“Sorry fer takin’ so long to say it.” He’s still not looking at you but your heart breaks a little at how small he sounds. You touch his cheek enough for him to turn and look at you, uncertainty clear in his bi-colored eyes.

“Honey I never meant to rush you. If you’re still working on it that’s okay! I never wanna make you feel uncomfortable,” brows knit together in worry now that you’re holding his face in both hands, searching signs that you took it too far.

“I think I’ll be able to say it now - especially if it makes ya look as happy as ya did at the cafe. Not all the time, but when we're alone I think I can." He’s almost fully settled into your hands now, melting into warmth he’d been craving since he woke up this morning. He always wondered how such soft hands could touch something as rough as him and still continue to make the effort to hold him. You wait for him to finish soaking up his much needed affection for a few more minutes and then you're both walking again, slowed by the urge to stay close for as long as possible.

----

"...and she popped out from behind the pillar and said "Yes, Haruka?"" Kotoha mimics your voice as she's giving Umemiya the rundown of what he missed.

"He's growing up so fast!" He wails theatrically wiping a tear from his eye.

"He's changed a lot since he came here, and even more since they started dating. I think he's getting soft with how fast they were able to drag him away without a fight."

"So he went from alley cat to house cat huh. Nothing wrong with that." he grins digging into his omurice. Kotoha smiles and hums in agreement. Nothing wrong with that in the slightest.

[pearlywritings]

His little hero

synopsis: it was you who always saved him from nightmares, but it seems that another precious girl decided to take that role upon herself.

pairing and characters: (implied) Kaveh x fem!reader, your daughter

tw: established relationship, hurt/comfort, girldad!Kaveh, domestic moment

word count: 1.2k+ words

a/n: I am slowly coming back, and let’s say this small fic is the first step of me returning on my way of writing

"Dad!"

Kaveh jolts upright with a startled gasp, pink padparadscha eyes wide and chest heaving. Blood is thumping in his veins, in his head, in his throat, in his everywhere, turning the whole world in the sounds of his widely beating heart. He doesn't register how sweaty he is or how his frame is trembling - the veil of sleep is too thick to shake it off of his conscience.

"Dad?"

Oh, but he has to, he needs to fight it and get a hold on reality. Shaking his head and making the hair messier than before, the man in his late thirties turns to look to his side, only to be met with the same soft gem-like eyes, reflecting the light of a nightstand lamp. Wait, the lamp has been turned on? Or did he forget to switch it off in the evening, after he told his daughter, who sneaked into her parents' room and wormed her way to her father's side, many stories to lull her to sleep? And why is there such immeasurable worry on the surface of these pinkish pools, staring at him without blinking?

He wants to lift his hand to rub at his eyes, but realizes that two small hands of a five-years old have an almost death grip on his long fingers. What has frightened her so much? He is sure he didn't tell her any horror stories - he probably wouldn't have been able to fall asleep himself. Then what is it-

"Dad, what's wrong..?” It twists his heart, how sad and small she sounds. “I am scared… are you okay?"

She is scared..? Of him? Or…for him?

Shit.

"I'm fine," Archons, this tired and hoarse voice is so strange, yet painfully familiar to him. Kaveh turns to face her properly and reaches the free hand to gently cup her little cheek, fore and middle fingers smoothing her locks behind her ear. “I really am,” he tries to sound softer, leaning down and placing a kiss to her forehead, pushing his fears behind to comfort his sweet girl. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, don’t look so sad.”

“But…but you were crying…” her lower lip trembles and the man immediately brings her close to his chest, folding legs and settling her against them. Artistic fingers carefully adjust her cute flower-patterned pajama, smoothing the fabric and rubbing at her back intact with the rocking of the architect’s body. Lips press to the top of her head, sweetly murmuring words of reassurance and promises that he really is fine.

He wants to believe he is. After all, Kaveh has an amazing wife, a child - the most wonderful girl in the whole world, he has a stable well-paying job, a nice house he built for his little family, great friends (maybe just a little bit annoying at times), and everyone around him is happy. He is happy.

But sometimes… Sometimes he is so-so scared of losing it all. To not hear the laughter in tavern at the table his pals reserved, to not have a home to come back to, to once again struggle with providing for his loved ones, to not have this bundle of sunshine in his arms, calling him ‘dad’ and expressing her happiness through the brightest smile on her adorable face, to not kiss you good morning and good night while holding your hand and smoothing his thumb over the metal of a band wrapped around your finger.

He knows how easy it is to lose everything - it happened to him way too many times he’d like to admit. And now, when he has so many wonderful things all at once? He cannot stop thinking about it occasionally. The nightmare of such a kind shouldn’t be surprising, but must've it really come to him, when his daughter sought her dad's cuddles on a night when you went for a sleepover to your friend’s?

Kaveh sighs heavily, running a palm down his face, as if wiping the remnants of sleep and clinging worries, refocusing his gaze on a child in his lap. She sniffles a couple of times quietly, but doesn’t look like she is about to cry, though the man is fully prepared to comfort her. Instead, she bumps her forehead against his ribs, butting them.

“Do you miss mom?” He has to strain his ears to hear that, but he does. Running his digits through her silky locks, the architect hums, glancing at the photo of you three on his nightstand - it depicted the moment right after he sneaked behind you, lifting you bridal style, while your girl was in your arms. Ah, her and your smiles are the sunniest, and he knows you’d say that his is just as beaming.

“Of course I miss mom, baby.”

“Were you crying because of it?”

Ah… Of course she is still worried for him. It kind of reminds Kaveh of himself - though he was older and it was to his mom.

The sudden comparison makes him shudder.

May his daughter never experience the same thing.

“I don’t know, love. I had a nightmare, but I don’t remember much,” half-truth and half-lie. He might not remember the details, but he knows what caused it. “You saved me from it though. You know what it makes you?”

“I saved you?” She lifts her head and his heart melts at the sight of her eyes, widened in astonishment. “I really did?”

“Mhm, you did.”

“Am I… a hero?”

She is. Just like her mother.

“You are, little feather. The greatest hero, the conqueror of nightmares, the savior of dads!”

She giggles, hiding her face in his chest, turning bashful. He kisses the top of her head again, cuddling her small body into his, sensing how with every second spent in his daughter’s dazzling presence less and less fears remain in his heart and brain. She truly is a wonder. His and your wonder.

“I am like mom!” Oh, many would beg to differ, considering the stark resemblance the girl holds to her father, but Kaveh knows what she means. “You say mom saves you every day.”

“She does,” an almost dreamy sigh escapes him, “she really does. But even heroes sometimes get tired and have to restore their power. That is why mom is out today having fun with her friends, whom she hasn’t seen for a long time. As for the little heroes, they should sleep at night to grow into even mightier heroes. So why don’t we-”

“For how long?” The girl cuts him off, lifting her head again and glancing at the man with curiosity. “A day?”

“No,” he chuckles, realizing that’s going to take a while now to get her to sleep, “longer than that.”

“Hm… Two days?”

“No, it’s not like the weekend at school.”

“Three days!?”

This time he shakes his head, listening with a smile to how the number of days keeps growing along with the size of her eyes and opening mouth. It never seizes to amaze him how a simple conversation with her makes everything so much better. There is a slither of guilt about waking her up and worrying her so much with his state, but watching her play the guessing game eagerly only five minutes after she was ready to cry for him - soothes Kaveh.

Moving closer to the headboard and settling against it, the blond decides to entertain her more, until she is sleepy enough to get back to the dreamland. After all, even the little heroes need rest, and that’s the least he can do for his.

[midnight-glasses]

Can you do Reiji body headcanons, please🙏!!

This headcanon clearly inspired by @/dialovers-lover-xoxo check out her post!

☕ — Since he always wears gloves, Reiji's hands are very soft and smooth when you touch them. Additionally, he always keeps his nails trimmed.

☕ — He doesn't have many body hairs, but where he does, they are located in very specific places and not in abundance. He has a decent amount of hair mainly in the armpits and a bit in the abdomen region, extending down to the pelvis, and a little hair on his legs. They are almost imperceptible, but when you touch them, you can feel them.

☕ — Reiji has a thin torso and waist, but his body is well-toned and even muscular to a certain extent. He has more physical structure than Laito but is not as muscular as Ayato.

☕ — I'll be bold in stating this, but I like to entertain the idea of Reiji having inverted nipples. He tends to be very self-conscious about this and is unlikely to be shirtless around anyone.

☕ — Reiji has an upright and elegant posture, reflecting his refined upbringing and his sense of superiority over his other brothers.

☕ — His hair is tidy and impeccable; when you run your hand through it, you can notice that it's very silky and soft, with an aroma similar to that of fine herbs.

☕ — Reiji's feet are small and elegant, a feature he doesn't particularly like. Perhaps he's a little insecure or overly self-conscious about it, but it adds a certain grace to his overall demeanor.

☕ — He has broad, well-defined shoulders. If he ever allowed himself to wear a tank top, he would look great in it.

☕ — Reiji's skin is smooth and flawless, with hardly any noticeable hair or texture. It feels similar to the skin of a peach when you touch it, smooth and soft like a makeup sponge.

☕ — His fingers are long and agile, perfect for manipulating delicate objects with surgical precision.

☕ — Reiji's legs are long and slender, with an athletic appearance without being overly muscular.

☕ — His eyebrows are thin and well-shaped, curving gently over his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, they are not as feline as Laito's eyes; they are softer, though they narrow when he is angry.

☕ — Reiji has piercing and deep eyes, with irises of a dark hue that tend to shine brightly when he is excited.

☕ — His chin is slightly square.

☕ — Reiji maintains an upright and proud posture, with his torso tilted slightly forward when he is concentrating on something, giving him an air of determination and focus.

☕ — His skin on his arms and forearms is smooth and pale, without visible imperfections. As mentioned earlier, he is not the prime example of physical strength, but one cannot say that his combat abilities are atrophied. He knows how to use his strength and fighting skills when necessary.

☕ — Reiji's ears are not prominent, discreetly framed by his tidy hair, and they lie close to his head.

☕ — His nose is straight and thin, with a slightly upturned tip. The nostrils are defined, and the nose line is smooth and symmetrical

☕ — Reiji's buttocks are subtly defined beneath his clothing. He often opts for loose-fitting clothes that slightly accentuate the curvature of his hips. (I like to think so, again these are just headcanons, don't judge me by the thought)

☕ — Reiji's lips are thin and well-defined. When he smiles, you can notice some dimples appearing on his cheeks.

☕ — His smile is often restrained and calculated, revealing just enough to convey confidence and, occasionally, a sardonic streak of humor. His thin, well-designed lips contribute to the balanced aesthetic of his smile, the dimples in his cheeks only appear when he is very excited and cannot contain himself.

☕ — Reiji's teeth are white and straight, with slightly more pronounced canines.

☕ — Reiji has a gentle expression line between his eyebrows. This line, known as a forehead furrow or “worry lines”, is subtle but noticeable when he is focused or deeply reflecting on something.

☕ — When nervous, he has the habit of sawing his teeth or biting his lower lip, sometimes it is possible to see evidence of this, especially after moments of stress.

☕ — Reiji has a small dark mole on the inner side of his left ring finger, just like his uncle.

☕ — He has a long, slender neck

☕ — Reiji has a subtle scent of woody notes and spices.

☕ — He has a habit of combing his hair with his fingers when he's nervous, he tends to do it in a very ritualistic way.

☕ — In addition to being deep, Reiji's voice is engaging and melodic, captivating the attention of whoever listens.

☕ — When he is thoughtful or concentrated, Reiji may frown slightly or purse his lips.

All my written content is original, however, I do not claim ownership of the characters depicted. ©2024-Present.

[strawberrystepmom]

but how does that first time with Umemiya actually go? 🤔

honestly? he’s more intense than you expected. you’re too used to his jovial nature, his grins and his big hand always wrapped around your shoulder to keep you close to him. you never doubted he’d make you feel good but it is pleasantly surprising to see how bad he wants to the first time.

“just one more for me?” he asks, fingers crooked with expert precision inside of you, rubbing that spot that has your toes curling against his sides. his tongue laps at your clit. he backs his face away to kiss your inner thighs, leaving traces of his front teeth behind in the form of tiny love bites, thumb replacing his tongue to toy with you.

“but i wanna cum on you,” you whine breathlessly, back arched, elbows propping you up. his hair falls in his face and you do your best to lean up and push it away from his eyes.

(those honest, beautiful eyes you can’t believe look so different from how they usually do when glancing up from between your thighs.)

“you’ll get to once you give me one more,” he teases with a raised brow, leaning back down to sloppily kiss your drenched cunt, tongue softening while he drags it through your folds and tensing when he presses the flat of it against your clit. your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, and he knows he’s about to get what he wants.

you shiver gently, another orgasm shimmering through your body, and he laps at your droplets of release. sweeter than anything he could’ve imagined. he groans, low in his throat and deep in his chest.

“hajime.” his eyes flit from your pretty, shiny pussy to your face when you say his name. “please, please fuck me. i need to feel you.”

no longer a mere want, he’s a need. something you can’t live without. umemiya’s eyes drift down your body and back to your pretty cunt that clenches around nothing, all thanks to the mere weight of his gaze. your body is so tense and taut despite the three orgasms he has already pulled from you using his tongue and lips and fingers and you are overwhelmed.

“please,” you beg again, the word far more high pitched at the end than at the beginning. every part of you needs to feel how well you’ll stretch to accommodate him.

he smirks and rises to his knees, heavy cock bobbing with every scoot upward onto his bed, nearer to your spread thighs, your soft skin, your unapologetic beauty. obsessed feels like too light of a word for how he feels about you.

you gasp softly when he grips his cock and bounces the flushed head of it against your sticky, sensitive folds. his hips grind and you watch him slip through them, frustrated whines you cannot stop spilling out every time he grinds against the spot that is most sensitive. your face contorts in impatience and pleasure and when he’s certain you’re going to open your mouth to ask him for a third time, he slips in.

just the tip. just enough that you can really feel how you’ll have to stretch for the rest of him to be buried inside of you. you moan and it’s a symphony, music to his ears he wants to hear constantly, pulling his tip out and slowly sinking it back inside of you. he leans over you, one strong arm holding him up, holding you close to him with the other.

“i’ll let you cum as many times as you want as long as you tell me you’re about to, alright?” he commands against your cheek. you wanna argue, to tell him the way your body is going to grip him and pulse around him will be enough to warn him, but you nod. you’re too relieved to be full to put up too much of a fight.

he sinks deeper inside of you and you gasp. “fuck…” you breathe out and he chuckles, kissing your cheek gently.

“what did i say?”

you open your eyes to look at him, hand cupping his face to keep him close to you.

“i think i’m gonna cum, hajime.”

he sinks just a little deeper and you further tighten around him. another sweet, smooth chuckle leaves him.

“you think?” he raises a brow, sinking even deeper, torturously slow and methodical. “i know you’re about to cum again.”

hand sliding from cradling your shoulders to the backs of your thighs, he pushes them upward toward your chest, that little glimmer of intensity in his eyes flowing through his body and driving his movements. he pins you beneath him with his chest and his thighs and his hands and all you’ll be able to do is cum.

just for him.

[puffein]

FALL PARTY | late spring [ii.]

summary: you persuaded wanda to go to the party with you but at what cost? pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader warnings: the usual angst lol word count: 1069 a/n: idk how to feel about this but please enjoy!

series masterlist playlist!

New Brunswick, New Jersey

November 2021

"We should go, Wanda. I bet it's gonna be fun!" your voice booms from the bathroom, Wanda looks up from the book she's reading, her feet tucked tightly under her thighs. She shrugs and then realizes you cannot see her across the room.

"I don't know. I don't like parties," she says quietly. You got out of the bathroom wearing something that screams party girl. Wanda's eyes linger on you, for a little too long and abruptly looks down on her book. 

You bit your bottom lip lightly, thinking of different things to persuade her. Fall exams week just ended and you badly want to go to the party and drink the stress of studying all week away, but if Wanda won't go then the decision is settled. You wouldn't want to leave her behind even if it means ditching a scheduled plan with your roommate. 

"Okay, we won't go then," you said, your arms reaching out to smooth strays of her long brown hair.

She sighs, "No, you go. I can stay with Darcy or something." She shrugs, untucking her feet and placing them solidly onto your black carpet. Her eyes muster a wavering stare, eyelids drooped as her glinting green eyes filled with doubt.

You roll your eyes at her, sitting beside her, "Party won't be fun without you." 

Shoulders rigid, you tense as her eyes stare right at your face, analyzing your features, observing how she examines every person her eyes settled in. Sometimes, fright would swallow up your whole essence, afraid she would analyze something out of you, something you deeply hid under. 

Fear would always strike up at your chest whenever she does this, the staring, the head tilting with eyes determined, afraid she might see your feelings for her. She didn't have to know the affection you have for her goes beyond the borderlines of platonic warmth.

Then she looks away, brows furrowed, "I'll go then." her voice quiet. You see the fiddling of her hands and the nibbling of her bottom lip.

"We don't have to— wait, really? I mean, I'm fine with just staying here with you, we could watch movies or some—"

"You persuaded me anyways with that rat eyes."

You gasp at her dramatically, her laugh resounding in your all too quiet dorm room. Your face flushed at the sudden laughter she had emitted, the melodic laugh stabbed right into your chest with its sharp edges, however, instead of feeling pain all you have felt is fondness and devotion for the laughing girl.

That's how you found yourself and Wanda huddled together in a crowded room, sound blasting all over the place, people swarmed together to dance and sway their bodies closely. You felt the burning touch of her fingertips, her hands tightly grasping at your waist, leaving a fiery coil at the pit of your stomach. You try not to think too much of her touch, you knew Wanda hates crowded rooms, which makes her feel too close to people. 

You now kinda feel bad persuading her in something she deeply despises and watching her clutch at your side like a terrified puppy made you want to back out of the party and spend the night watching her favorite sitcoms. 

Your thoughts snap in place as you felt her tugging you impossibly closer, you lean into her ears, "Wanna grab drinks?"

Her wide eyes peer at yours and nods meekly, you smile at her encouragingly, wrapping your fingers around her wrist delicately, you pull the two of you out of the crowded room into a corner with much more space and none of that sweaty college students around.

"Stay here, I'll get you an apple juice." you playfully utter.

Wanda rolls her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she scrunches up her nose endearingly. Huffing, she says, "Very funny."

You wave your hands in the air while walking away, steps bouncing lightly towards the kitchen of whoever house this Stark dude stole. Proud surrounds your chest at having the ability to find a space solely for Wanda. Not only for Wanda but for you and her too.

"I thought I will be ditched. Surprises." curly fiery red hair comes into your view, and you glance at her with brows raised high.

"I never ditch you."

"You did. Three days ago claiming it was yours and Wanda's sitcom day. Oh, and that coffee plan we had a week ago which totally got bamboozled as you said your best friend feels weird so—"

"Jesus. I get it." you sigh defeated, shoulders slump but a mischievous glint surrounds your roommate's eyes.

"Just ask her out." she suddenly suggests, lower back positioned right at the kitchen counter, slender hands grasping a small drink with lots of ice.

You shake your head, "No way, Nat. Wanda doesn't —" 

Your words die down as your eyes settled on your best friend, tucked in the corner of the room but this time she's not alone. A tall blonde man stands beside her, he keeps a respectful distance between them, head bobbing and his interest is piqued at whatever your best friend is babbling about.

"—like me." you continued. Your Face scrunched up in a weird, pain, embarrassment kind of way. 

Wanda doesn't like talking to strangers, much less babbling her night away with a man she never met before. 

So, watching her step out of her comfort zone for someone she had never met gave you a very weird erupting feeling of sorrow and bitterness. You could practically taste the dejection and wretchedness of the hurling realization that this man might be too special for him to get Wanda to break the walls she had put herself and gaze at him like he was the only being who matters in the entire space.

That was the night you very first felt a strong feeling of patheticness. 

You will always be the girl admiring the person she deeply loves from afar, who will always be positioned at the sidelines, who will always be the best friend, and will never be more than that.

Other than that, realizing that you were the one who persuaded her to come to this party made you sick. To come into the very place where she met the man she will be marrying 3 years from now.

Safe to say, you are the cause of your very own heartbreak.

general masterlist ◄ ►

—୧ taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @sokovianbaby

[delta-pavonis]

For the soft ask meme, how about 17 for 🗡️ Fantasy Knight!Hob/King Morpheus?

17. this is a very long hug now sort of hug

Nice! Thanks for the prompt! I think this fits nicely with elaborating a bit on their history prior to getting together. The original fic is here. Although I did approach it a little differently than I think the prompt intended. 😅

Hob wakes up to a room so dark it takes a moment for him to realize that his eyes are both open and working.

No moon, just the barest twinkle of stars comes in from the small open window. Other than that, the only source of illumination in the room is a candle that is almost burned down to its base, wax a puddle on the table beneath the holder.

But even with that little light Hob can see that he is not alone.

A person is sprawled in a simple wooden chair next to his bedside, legs stretched out in front of them, arms folded tight across their chest, chin tilted down so far that the person's profile is almost buried in said arms. But even with just that sliver of information, Hob knows who it is. Hob would know who it was in the pitch black of the depths of the underworld, just by the sound of his breathing.

"King Morpheus?" Hob whispers, unsure if they are actually alone.

His sworn sovereign is awake instantly, eyes finding Hob without error, as if they have memorized the path from being closed to looking down upon him on the bed. They stare at one another for a silent moment, the King's eyes startlingly bright given the lack of light, and then, suddenly, Hob finds himself enveloped in a hug. It is awkward - he is still laying down - but strong arms are around his shoulder and chest and there is rapid breathing in his ear.

Hob shivers. He is... he is in King Morpheus' arms.

The King is alive.

Hob succeeded.

The relief is palpable. It washes over him from head to toe, unclenching muscles he didn't even know could be tense. Except...

Oh fuck but does his shoulder hurt.

But he is being held by his King. Wrapped in arms he has dreamed about. Pressed into a warmth he dared not imagine.

Hob relaxes into it, bringing his hands up carefully to grip at King Morpheus' waist, and the King hums like he sounds happy about it and Hob might sublimate from the fierce joy that surges up in his chest.

"Sir Gadlen." King Morpheus whispers.

"Yes, my Lord?" And Hob thinks that this should end it and he even goes to pull away.

But the King does not. He holds firm, keeping Hob held to his chest, his chin on Hob's shoulder.

So Hob does the only thing he can think of to do, he closes his eyes and tries his damnedest to memorize every tiny dot of contact between them - how it moves when they breathe, how it feels in the stillness between breaths, how smooth King Morpheus' cheek is against his neck, how rough his own body feels from the battle.

Hob gets more time than he thinks he deserves in his King's embrace, but it does eventually end. King Morpheus grabs the sides of his shoulders and pulls away to look him right in the eyes to say, "Thank you. For saving my life."

His heart leaps into his throat, starts screaming: I would do it again in a heartbeat. Every day. From now until forever. If it would keep you safe. And happy.

Of course, he doesn't say any of that. Instead Hob just smiles, as bright as he can through the pain. "And I am very glad I am here to say you're welcome."

King Morpheus actually huffs a laugh at that. "As am I. And please, I think you have earned the right to call me Dream."

Hob cannot help but startle at the very idea. He... can't. How could he ever call his sovereign by a nickname? It is just... impossible. "I... that's generous of you, my Lord. But I do not think it proper for me to... I do not think it would reflect well on you to..." The light in the King's eyes dims ever so slightly and Hob just barely holds back from falling all over himself apologizing. Instead he blurts, "But you can call me Hob, if you'd like." And oh, Hob can feel the blush burn across his cheeks now and perhaps he can blame it on a fever?

But then King Morpheus smiles, a small, gentle thing, and Hob would take a hundred more bolts just to have that gift. "Alright... Hob." His hands slide from Hob's shoulders to hold his elbows. "How do you feel about joining the guards of my Inner Circle?"

[zargontari]

Joe kneels beside him to look at the cat, but does not outstretch his hand to try and touch her. Skippy's fingers continue their strained, gentle back and forth over the animal's ears. "You don't like cats," he eventually says, without looking. He did not have to turn his head to know it was the Colonel. Who else would sit with him like this? Of course it's Joe. The cat, who had stilled momentarily at the sound of his voice — still rough, but smoothing with time, just as the rest of him — tilts her head back to butt against the palm of his hand. Demanding, he thinks.

The shelter is quiet at this hour; those who come often wander in during the early afternoon hours, rather than thirty minutes to closing. Other animals pace their enclosures. Some are large, others small; some loud, some only silently glaring from the corners of their kennels at the two men. They range wildly in breed, the names of which he had never bothered to store to long term memory, and as such had been long forgotten with everything else. They are mostly young beasts. With the exception of one, they are all whole.

All except for this one. A stray, the tag on her door had claimed. Likely the rugged survivor of a dog fight, or a some tangle with a coyote. Regardless of origin, the effect is obvious: the fawn-colored cat, likely middle aged but the exact number unknown, looks as though she had been run straight through at some point of her life. Starting at the top of her head, only a jagged piece of her right ear had been left. The marring continued down to her shoulder, and the severed stub of her right foreleg. The animal's one golden eye seems to stare right through Skippy as he carefully runs his fingers over the old wound. She does not appear to care. The damage, such and clear as it is, does not hinder her, the little tag had read. Don't let her scary face fool you: She still has lots of love to give!

"I don't hate cats," Joe says from behind him, and it makes him stiffen for only a second to hear a voice where he'd forgotten a person was, at the same speed at which he thought.

Then he has to smile, very small and fragile, and just to himself. "You do," he replies. "Your mother had a cat, and the cat hated you. You retaliated by hating all cats, because, as your diary said at the time, your mother liked the cat more than she loved you, and would have rather sold you than the animal if you had raised a fuss." There is a nip at the outer edge of his palm, just a graze of teeth really, as he ghosts over the cat's scar and she redirects his attention. He moves his hand beneath her chin without complaint.

Joe only sighs; a heavy, burdened sound that he no longer flinches at. "Do I want to know how you know anything about my diary at the time?"

"I was only guessing about the diary, Joe." Truthfully, he only vaguely remembers knowing about the animal that Joe hated so dearly that it infected his relationship with every animal of the same breed. It is like a memory of a memory; a window that you just can only barely see through. It's all there, somewhere, of course. He carries his dying matrix behind him like a corpse. But he will never touch it again, and that is something he is finally begining to become okay with. "It was easy enough to extrapolate."

"Extrapolate," Joe mutters, as if the word itself is an insult to all humans, but especially him. "You know what? I don't care. You've seen the inside of my underwear drawer; I don't think I have any really big secrets that you don't know about."

"Likely not," but he isn't paying attention. The cat is purring. This is the first time he has ever heard a cat purr, besides in videos that he cannot recall and does not try to. It sounds rough, like a grating sound, like she's still trying to figure out how to do it. Skippy remembers pulling sound from his own new throat as if ripping them out, and thinks that he can relate, and also thinks this is that empathy shit again, isn't it?

Still. She is a broken thing— or she was broken, and she has fixed herself. Or, not fixed, but she has learned to live with what she cannot change. She has come into her own, despite the damage. Alone and cold and hurt and scared, she survived.

For some reason, that makes him feel a little bit better about his own survival. It feels a little less pointless, knowing that he is not the only thing that lived just because it wanted to; that he is not alone in a life without much purpose other than seeing the next sunrise.

(He takes her home. Of course he does.)

[sasster]

Cue the Sun

Woe, Google Doc be upon ye

-

The rain torrents relentlessly outside of the Embalmers home, it is enough to make Orfuse curse himself for taking the trip on his own without first checking the weather. But on the same hand, the rain was welcomed. Though it flattens his hair against his head, and a fleeting thought can’t help but spare itself for the day of his revival, it also sweeps his nerves up from his very core and casts them into the earth in the form of much easier to handle water droplets. In the end, the water serves to make him feel much lighter.

No matter how much of a wet cat he must look like right now, he’d waited for the appropriate time to get this done.

The oracle takes a deep breath, to steel what the rain left behind of his nerves, and knocks on the door with three quick raps. Then he takes a step back and smooths his jacket over in an effort to make himself more presentable in the downpour. 

Slowly the door opens and each second he is made to wait feels as though his heart is being held over an open flame. There’s a selfish thought. How long had he made Thanat wait after all?

In the doorway stands the vessel of one of his great loves. Illuminated from behind, Orfuse cannot see much of him in the face of the shadow cast. He didn’t need to, though, to see that he was tired. Worn thin by the struggle of holding it together, no doubt. Not that he thinks himself faring any better.

He must look so pathetic, he thinks, the way he feels his face light up at the sight of his mate.

Thanat pauses, surely with thoughts consumed with anger for the cruelty of what must be his eyes deceiving him.

“Orfuse-- ”

Caressed by the voice of his lover, like an old friend to his poor tired ears, Orfuse throws himself into his arms despite his better judgment.

“I’m clean! I’m clean from the rain!” He shouts by way of an apology as he squeezes his arms tightly around him.

For his part, Thanat is stunned. Of course he is. Seconds ago he was certain that Orfuse would sooner see himself back into his grave than torture himself in the company of his former torturer again. Now here he is, burying his face into the crook of the mortician's neck as he always did when they embraced, mumbling his apologies.

He hesitates, for a fraction of a second, before fixing his arms around him and squeezing so tightly that anyone could be forgiven for assuming he was trying to absorb the smaller troll.

“It doesn’t quite work that way.” Thanat finally responds with a good amount of humor in his voice, though not nearly enough to stave off the cracks in it.

“The rules are different for me.” He jokes, sniffling through his tears.

“They always have been, dear.”

They stand like that for a moment, Orfuse burying shuddering sobs into his partners neck like prayers against his skin.

After an eternity of holding each other Orfuse pulls back, perhaps too soon, to look up at him.

“I won’t live with you.”

Thanat shakes his head, running a hand first along the small of his back then up his side.

“I did not expect you to.”

“And, uhm, whatever fight you’ve been having with Addy… You two are going to talk about it.”

The mortician watches as his partner makes his demands, as though his death was merely a vacation and the world did not suffer for his absence, with a soft smile that Orfuse cannot see.

“I believe that one is up to Aderae.”

“Well, I already talked to him about it.”

“Ah. Of course. You know that I’ve always admired your foresight, my love.”

Orfuse laughs breathlessly, taking his turn to run a hand down the length of Thanat’s arm. When he reaches his hand he takes it into his and laces their fingers together.

“I still don’t forgive you for giving up your mortality just like that for something so stupid.” He says, not looking up from their intertwined fingers. “It was dumb.”

“I would have died without you otherwise.”

“I know.” His voice is as soft as the thumb Thanat uses to rub the back of his hand. “I know you would have.”

[flashbang-througthe-door]

Hanger Husbands ft Friends

Blade Price owned by @shadowssniper

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Bravo: Hey Nikolai,

Nikolai: Yes?

Bravo: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Nikolai:

Nikolai: Where’s Blade?

Bravo: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Nikolai?

Nikolai: … No.

Blade: I do!

Bravo: I know, Blade.

Blade: I’m sad!

Bravo: I know, Blade.

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Blade: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Bravo: I'm a knife.

Nikolai, from across the room: They're the little spoon

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Bravo: How's the sexiest person here~?

Nikolai: I don't know, how are they~?

Bravo, flustered: I-

Blade, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!

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Bravo: Nikolai and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Blade: *Sighing* What did Nikolai do?

Bravo: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Nikolai: Who wants a steering wheel?

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Bravo: Welcome, fellow idiots

Nikolai: Hello, Bravo

Bravo: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot

Nikolai: You underestimate me

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Price: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Bravo: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Gaz: I got distracted about halfway through.

Nikolai: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

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Gaz: I like your top, Bravo!

Nikolai: I have a name, you know.

Bravo: *sighs* Why. Why are you like this.

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

Nikolai: Where are you going?

Bravo: To get MYSELF a gift cause somebody didn't get me one!

Nikolai: I told you I did! Its coming here on Friday!

Gaz, knowing full well that Nikolai got Bravo an engagement ring: *eating popcorn*

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Gaz: The best part of an oreo is the cookie part, not the frosting. Deal with it.

Nikolai: Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side.

Bravo: YO SOCRATES! IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE!

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Price: Repeat that

Bravo: Si-

Price: SIX MONTHS YOU'VE BEEN HIDING IN HIS VENTS

Nikolai: Sounds like you need someone in your vent

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Bravo: *heading out to see Nikolai*

Soap: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

Bravo: I think I crossed that line when I got a date.

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Bravo: I'm so happy, I could kiss you!

Nikolai: Um...Neat.

*later*

Nikolai, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Soap. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid.

Soap, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Nikolai. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Graves confessed their love for me?

Nikolai: Didn't you thank them?

Soap: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked them.

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Bravo: I love you.

Nikolai: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.

*Bravo and Nikolai kiss passionately*

Soap, to Graves: You owe me 20 dollars.

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Bravo: Hey Graves, wanna third wheel on my date with Nikolai tomorrow?

Graves: Sure.

Bravo: Soap! Wanna third wheel on my date with Nikolai tomorrow?

Bravo: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date!

Graves & Soap: ...

Nikolai: Bravo...

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Nikolai: Bravo! I can't do this stupid math!

Bravo: What’s the math problem?

Nikolai: Well, we have to add the bed, subtract the clothes divide the legs, and hope we don’t multiply.

Graves, covering Soap's ears, while Bravo smacks Nikolai upside the head: Not going to lie that was hella smooth.

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Graves: I sleep with a gun under my pillow.

Soap: I sleep with a knife.

Bravo: Both of you are pathetic.

Graves: Oh yeah? What do you sleep with?

Bravo: Nikolai.

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Graves: How do I ask someone out?

Nikolai: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two.

Graves: No!

Soap: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car.

Graves: Stop!

Bravo: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream.

Graves: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

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Soap: *sees Bravo and Nikolai together*

Soap: They're cute. I would put them on a boat.

Graves: You mean... you ship them?

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Nikolai: What’s the announcement, Bravo?

Bravo: It’s a lecture. Graves’s gonna tell us everything they know about sex.

Soap: It should be an enjoyable 60 seconds.

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Soap: I never said I was gonna get back together with them. But I was thinking, they're in town, would it be the worst thing in the world if I gave them a call?

Bravo: No. No, Soap, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be the fourth worst thing. Number one: a super volcano. Number two: an asteroid hits the Earth. Number three: All the Evel Knievel movies are lost. Number four: Soap calls Graves. Number five: Nikolai gets eaten by a shark.

Nikolai: I’m Nikolai, and I approve the order of that list.

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Bravo: Nikolai is too tall for me to kiss them on the lips. What should I do?

Graves: Punch them in the stomach. Then, when they double over in pain, kiss them.

Price: Tackle them!

Gaz: Dump them.

Soap: Kick them in the shin!

Nikolai: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

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Bravo: I put the pun in punishment.

Soap: I put the top in unstoppable.

Price: I put the cute in execute.

Gaz: I put the sexy in dyslexia.

Graves: I put the ass in class.

Nikolai: I put the D in Bravo.

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Nikolai to Soap, who’s about to get married: Today, two families are becoming one.

Graves, in an ominous voice: Two families enter, one family leaves.

Price: That sounds so threatening…

Bravo, who is also getting married: The Wedding Games…

Gaz: May the bouquet toss be ever in your favor.

Soap: Beautiful.

Nikolai: Fuck all of you!

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Graves: Just be yourself.

Nikolai: Really? Graves, I have one day to win over Bravo’s parents.

Nikolai: How long did it take for you guys to like me?

Blade: Couple of weeks.

Soap: Six months.

Price: Jury’s still out.

Nikolai: See Graves? ‘Just be yourself,’ what kind of garbage advice is that?!

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(Platonic)

Blade: If I fall…

Bravo: I’ll be there to catch you.

Soap: *looks at Price* What if I fall?

Price: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Graves: *watches these two interactions*

Graves, to Nikolai: And if I fall?

Nikolai: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

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[ladyravenblack]

Home part 2:

~

Days turn into weeks turn into months, without the extermination time is fickle here. Unmeasurable.

Charlie prattles on about some new comer, how sweet they are, and how it’s oh so funny they also have deer attributes. What a joy I think rolling my eyes before bringing them back to the bubbling fountain that is our princess.

Shortly after Charlie left I caught this thing staring at me. Plain for a demon, my eyes stumbling back to their dark brown ones, taking in their soft brown hair, and those little doe ears atop their head. They were truly deer like, from the tips of their ears to the soft white freckles on their cheeks to the hooves they ever so brazenly had out.

What an odd creature this was.

They kept their eyes on me, their head tilted slightly as they sipped their clear drink. I inhaled deeply, was that moonshine? Where did they get that? Husk doesn’t have any on hand- I wonder if this little thing is making it somehow.

Refocusing on the demon I see their eyes have gone a stark black, the smell of honeysuckle coats the air, and I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Our eyes stay locked together, my mind blank, barely processing as they stand and blink repeatedly as if trying to erase or refocus their thoughts. Husk keeps shining the glassware, never looking up but speaking to me. What is he saying? Why are my ears ringing?

I stand abruptly, knocking my cane to the floor and startling Husk. The ringing won’t subside as I stagger into the hall, away from everything and everyone. My forehead is slick with sweat as I lean it against the hallway wall, the shadows around me taut with anticipation that I don’t understand.

Using the wall I make it back to my room, my body overheating as I wander to the bayou that takes up a corner of my room. The water overtakes me in one smooth motion as I slide down into the muddy abyss. It cools me, soothes me, opening my eyes under the water I trace the leaves that float by, the sticks that mark the bottom of my own escape, the light filtering through, creating peaceful images in the dust specks that drift in the greenish brown water. If I stayed here could I die? Could the water swallow me whole?

There’s a soft pop as my head breaks the water, drops fall from my antlers and ears, tracing paths down my cheeks. I imagine the image of the radio demon collar bone deep in muddy waters, antlers far too large, and eyes reflecting off the surface below me. Tilting my head back I admire the soft willow trees, their leaves and branches caressing the ground beneath them as the wind whispers its secrets.

Does the Bayou still think of me?

I stand, my full height pushing the water to only my waist. The ground is soft, sucking on my shoes as I walk from the water I had sat in. I dry almost instantly, the heat of Hell and my own body evaporates any bit of wet that may have clung to me. The scent of the woods made me feel safe for just a moment before my nightmare or premonition came back to me.

Suddenly I was too cold, the long, clawed fingers of fear working their way up my spine. My feet carried me from the little spacial vortex in my room and to my built in book shelves next to my fireplace. Forcing my fingers to trace the titles of the books before I pick out one, one I know is empty and only for me to read.

My clawed fingers scratch the pages, sadness dripping from them as I engrave invisible words into the paper. Memories I cannot and will never share with another, my life before I died, before I even became the monster I was as a man.

~

My chair holds me like a cocoon of plush velvet. Music drifts through the air, my radio buzzing with the perfect melody for my mood.

Suddenly it changes, it never changes without my command but this time it has. The song plays over and over, working into my brain until it is all I can hear even as I work to change it. Angrily I smash the radio down, pausing to check I haven’t damaged my precious machine, and step outside my door. The song still plays, it fills the hotel. I cannot escape.

I follow it, changing directions as one way gets quieter than the other or another sounds louder until I find myself near the back of the hotel. A glass room along the outside of the main walls with a golden colored dome.

My eyes seek the sound only to find the demon from earlier singing to an old radio that even I had been unable to fix. It spouted the melody like it had never been broken, as if its handle hadn’t snapped off when I went to twist it on years ago, or the speakers hadn’t blown when I finally got it to turn on one last time. They swayed like a flower in the breeze, their wide hips rocking back and forth with the beat as they brought their hands into their hair. Their grey toned skin dappled with the red light of the pentagram leaking into the room made them look ethereal.

The voice emanating from them was soft, sad almost, with the lightest hint of an accent forgotten from years away. A gentle song began to play, one someone could truly dance to, and I watched as with their eyes closed they began the steps of a simple waltz.

Alone with no hand to hold or lead to follow they flowed across the room. Before my mind could think I was beside them, my hand grasping theirs and the other reaching for their waist.

Those eyes popped open in surprise, the full black of a deers over the soft brown they usually had. Never skipping a step despite the surprise of a companion they danced with me, keeping their eyes on mine as the song began again and we completed yet another round of spins and steps.

As I stepped away, their hands falling to their sides and their breath heavy, I speak to them for the first time. I tell them to tell no one, that this never happened beyond these glass panes.

My shadows pull me down, drag me away from the comfort I felt in that moment, back to reality and my room. They may tell everyone for all I know, though I doubt they would cross me if they’ve any sense of self preservation.

I find myself humming the song we danced to as I finish out my night, my mind struggling to focus upon my work. What had I done?

[drev-the-procrastinator]

6, 11, 22 from this ask game

ohohoo thanks for the ask!!! this was harder than i thought it would be. also heads up, the snippets are very unpolished and like 1st draft things. i hope you like them anyway!! <3

6 . that i struggled with, but triumphed over my bachelor's essay lol okay let's see what i've got… ajaskhfa there are so many things i am struggling with right now to be honest ghh. and am yet to triumph over. hmmm. okay i thought about this very hard. but i cannot think of anything to fit this category jafkjsf. i only have things i'm currently struggling with ;_; upon more reflection i would like to nominate this answer as this one ajfaksdfjaskfjn. not a very good answer i know but. it's truthful at least! i was considering maybe taking part in a wip wednesday to maybe work on some of the ones i'm really struggling with, but we'll see!

11 . with characters i want to write more in the future hmm two choices… I'll go with the TOH thing! okay i chose this one specifically because i've got a WIP with both of them, this one, or the hypothetical toh fic as i like to call it (because i had/have my doubts about if i ever actually manage to write it) and then two other WIPs with one about Evelyn and Caleb, and then one being a. post-canon, pre timeskip road trip au with Hunter and Luz. so i do want to write both of them more! so yea

“Oh! Oh.” caleb looks stricken for a moment, before making a visible effort to school his expression. “No. Have you thought- this whole-?” the man cuts himself off, pressing a hand to his mouth. he isn’t very good at guarding his expressions, hunter notes, puzzled by the distress that shows through. “I just… I assumed?” he says, fiddling with the empty mug, shoulders rising, but in embarrassment rather than fear. “It was a long fall.” there is a short moment of silence that to him at least feels like hours, during which hunter, ears burning, does his best to wish he’d sink back to the ground from which he’d crawled out, until caleb snorts in amusement and drops the hand from his mouth, and the tension breaks. “I suppose it was,” caleb says with the corner of his mouth pulling to a start of a smile, in a tone hunter would swear is almost fond, and offers hunter his hand. the titanawful distress is gone from his face. hunter takes the offered hand, without hesitation, and caleb pulls him to his feet. “No, you’re not dead,” caleb reassures him, as he gently holds hunter’s hand between his own again, even though it’s perfectly warm here in the little cabin and his fingers don’t need any warming. hunter doesn’t feel the need to pull away, but he knows that if he wanted to, caleb would let him, without question. “You yet live. I’m sorry I’ve kept you this long. it’s taken… a bit longer than we thought.” “We?” caleb smiles, a quick, knowing, almost mischievous smile, but in lieu of answering he steps back just a little, looks hunter over, and with a squeeze of his hands lets go. only to step closer, slowly, just to an arm’s length from him, and then when hunter doesn’t flinch away dusts something off hunter’s shoulder, and smoothes a crease from his shirt, fiddles with the collar of the wolf t-shirt as though any adjustment would carry over to his, apparently still living body, until he seems satisfied, and then sets his hands on hunter’s shoulders again, both, this time. it’s a little like how his uncle had used to look over him when he’d been really small and had to accompany him to some sort of important social function, but a lot more like camila looking over luz at the doorstep that first day she’d had to go back to school in the human realm, even down to fixing his clothes. hunter’s still a little shorter than him, not by a lot, and most likely not for long, but for now caleb does have to look slightly down at him. “Right,” he starts, and then doesn’t seem to be sure how to continue. his eyes flit back and forth, around hunter’s face, as if only now, in the golden soft light of the moment just before the dawn breaks, he’s seeing him properly for the first time. taking him in. committing to memory. “This is it, then?” hunter asks, even though he already knows. caleb hums, glances out the window, and hunter follows his lead. the sun is just below the horizon. the tops of trees nearby are bathed in a bright and warm red light. “Just about”, caleb says and looks back at hunter. he’s silent for a little while, before exhaling softly out of his nose and carefully, telegraphing his every move (though it’s not like he could hide them from someone with hunter’s training anyway), brushes some stray hairs from his face, including the ever-present strand that bounces back immediately. “I don’t know how much of this you’ll remember”, caleb confesses, his hand settling back onto hunter’s shoulder so lightly that hunter knows the grip, if it can even be called that much, would break if he were so much as to lean backwards, “I’ve never sent anyone back before. But I hope something remains. If nothing else, then what I told you in the clearing.” [***] “And you’ve got to take better care of yourself”, caleb says, sternly and only half-teasingly. “There’s only so much magic that can fit in a palisman that small. Cardinals aren’t big birds, young man.” hunter’s eyes widen.

hehe :3c also the thing caleb told him in the clearing? well i didn't like the wording on it so i took it out. oh dear, looks like you'll have to read the whole thing to find out someday.... and YES if you've read "hands, grasping", it IS the same fall! same fic haha. i'll put a read more here because the next bits are rather long,,, yes, long snippets, i don't get to share my writing often ahaha. but anyway!

22 . that is so blissfully self-indulgent

hghhhh okay let's see. I'll give you a toh snippet and then maybe a REAL self indulgent one, i mean, the sort that has a potential readership of. maybe two people max lmao. sorry, hunter's having a bad time in this too :( tw i suppose for bad injuries on a minor. and blood. sorry hunter

something warm dripped down his chin. he thought he might've heard someone screaming his name, but it was hard to tell past the ringing in his ears. he might've hit his head on landing. funnily enough, he couldn't feel much pain from that. it was quite wholly eclipsed by the searing, piercing pain in his chest. i'm not caleb, but the thought was more like a distant, frightened question. everything else felt distant, far-away somehow, but he was very aware of his physical body. the hot pain in his chest- dark red stain on white cotton- i'm not caleb-- the shivers, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. the rough ground against his palm and arm as he tried to hold himself up, the tiny sharp pebbles digging into them. the cold numbness starting to spread from the tips of his fingers and toes. the sharp sear of the wound in time with his rasping breaths. the blurry sight of his bloody, trembling arms. there was a stinging cut on his left palm, from the blade-arm. the ground below him, glistening with spreading dark red. i'm not caleb. he had to get up. he had to stand up. he couldn't fight, but he couldn't stay here. the only thing he'd serve as a distraction for would be his friends as they'd scramble to shield him and keep any attacks or debris from hitting him. he had to move. he had to. he tried to get his legs under him, but even just moving them a little, ignoring the flare of searing pain he had to grit his teeth together against, he could tell they wouldn't carry. he crawled. from the sound of it, a sizable rock crashed into the ground where he'd just been seconds ago. he only made it a couple more feet before the jittery, jelly-like feeling from his legs spread to his arms. a mere foot further, and what little strenght he'd managed to claw from himself had run out. his arms were too weak to even tremble. it was all he could to to slowly lower himself to the ground, instead of just collapsing outright. it was getting harder to breathe. he felt something bubbling up inside his chest. he coughed, and it hurt, and his mouth tasted like iron. i'm not caleb, and now it was a desperate plea. […] the fit passed. he spat out the blood, and squeezed his eyes shut.) his breaths were shaky, and not just from pain. i'm not caleb, he thought and clung to that thought with the desperation of a drowning man. i am not him, so i will not die like him. i won't die at belos' hand. i can't, because i'm not caleb, and i am going to live. i am going to live, because Flap gave his life for me to live, and i promised him, and i promised my friends, and i promised luz, and i promised caleb, and he told me i'm not him, i'm hunter, and caleb died but hunter will live. i'm not caleb…

he'll be fineeeeeeee and the other, really self indulgent one, just for me:

"we’re married now, after all. i am your wife”, she said, and the words brought with them a warm feeling in her chest, in her belly, in her heart, “and you are my husband.” “…and what does that mean?” “what do you think it means?” “i… i don’t-” he cut himself off, swallowed whatever he’d been about to say, if he even knew it himself. for a moment he nearly looked ill, and stared at her so helplessly it made her want to bring back his father just to send him to his coffin herself. but now wasn’t the time for that. she let her anger and frustration bleed out in a sigh. “for now…” she slowly lifted his hands, making sure to hold them gently, to give him the chance to pull away if he wished. he held his breath, but did not move away. his hands stayed in hers; his hands, smoother and softer than her own even after all this time. so warm, always so kind to her. now slightly trembling. slow in her movements, she kissed them, the softest touch on the knuckles on each hand. she heard his breath catch at the first of them, but he still did not pull away. she looked back up at his face. his eyes, glistening in the firelight, were wide, but he no longer looked as sickly pale with fear and panic as he had before. it seemed as though he had been looking at her and seeing a stranger, and the spark of recognition was only now returning. she let her gaze soften. “…it means whatever you want it to mean. nothing more, nothing less.” for a moment, there was silence. he searched her face, her eyes for something she could not have consciously given him, neither moving, not speaking, barely breathing. just when she was starting to fear it wasn’t there, whatever he needed to find, he found it. she saw it in the moment he unfroze, how his posture dropped from the fear of a prey animal he’d entered the room with to exhaustion in the blink of an eye. “it’s you”, was all he said, and it was such a strange thing to say, in all its relief and its surety, that she couldn’t help but smile, but couldn’t even herself tell if it was from amusement at his words or sheer joy that he’d said them. he was tearing up, face slowly cracking with emotion. “it’s still you.” “well, of course”, she said after a moment of consideration, and reached to brush a strand of hair from his face, and smiled in what she hoped was hidden bemusement. “it was all the make-up and jewelry, wasn’t it.” his hand that she had let fall immediately grasped the other. “no,” he said and shook his head for good measure, and continued, voice thick, “i think i forgot. but it’s you.” with him gripping her hand like this, as though his life depended on it ,where just before he’d first not even looked at her and then flinched from her touch, she thought she understood. she laid her free hand on top of both of his. they still trembled. “it’s me.”

hehe haha. the ace yearning of someone loving you so much that they think you're enough just as you are is strong with this one. also they are my guys (gender neutral)……. also what's it with these snippets and someone making sure the other one can pull away from their hold if they so wish?? maybe it's someone who has all their life been forced into Situations of all sorts getting to interact with someone who Knows and doesn't want to force them into any more Situations if they do not wish to be. very different sorts of Situations in this one. but even so.