#also I had to seek out Wind Paths before I could even get anything from them

[angrybatart]

Secret full image of the Tinkering Chimesmith for my comic. Actually really proud of it, and kinda want to ink and color it in. I should draw the others!

[five-rivers]

like giving candy to a baby

Ghosts did not have obsessions in the way human ecto-scientists meant when they used the term.  They did, however, have patterns, ticks in behavior, impulses, habits, that were nigh impossible to break.  Carryovers from their lives, or, in many cases, their deaths, impressed upon their thought patterns.  Easy paths for them to follow.  

In Daniel’s case, the pattern was curiosity.  More specifically, the indulgence of it.  

To be sure, he had made himself into a tutelary, a protective spirit, and the more he followed that narrative, the more he would fit his chosen role.  But, like any other person, living or dead, that was not all he was.  

Curiosity was what had killed him.  Such an event would, naturally, either burn the feeling out of him altogether, or render any other, lesser deterrent meaningless.  

If one were to place Daniel, unsupervised, in a room with an interesting object, he would interact with it.  Examine it.  Touch it.  Smell it.  Taste it.  See if it turned on or off.  Not indiscriminately, mind, there were various variables involved, and it was true that thinking beings, when underestimated, tended to seek out simulation, however unpleasant.  One might also argue that the environment in which Daniel was raised made him less cognizant of certain risks.  

But it was also true that if the object in question looked remotely edible, it would wind up in Daniel's mouth long before hunger could be said to have any impact on his decision making.  

As such, Clockwork was very careful when it came to the items he left Daniel alone with.  

Over the ages Clockwork had spent as the Observants' solution to everything even remotely inconvenient, he had collected a vast array of cursed objects.  It was only right that he should bring them to bear against the latest problem they'd dumped in his lap.  On the whole, he thought a series of subtle curses was a much more elegant and ethical solution than assassination.  

Letting Daniel walk himself into curses was easy to the point Clockwork almost felt guilty about it.  

Almost.  

He knew Daniel did not want to become Dan, either, after all, or blunder into any of a number of other bad futures.  Needs must.  

.

Danny floated into Long Now, Clockwork’s lair.  He’d been visiting Clockwork regularly ever since the incident.  He wasn’t sure how that had really happened, but it had, and every time Clockwork seemed pleased to see him.  

It was a little strange, but Danny didn’t want to question it too deeply.  

“Ah, Daniel,” said Clockwork, warmly, switching from old man to infant, “I am in the middle of something, but if you can sit there for just a moment…”  He nodded to the sitting area.  

“Sure!” chirped Danny.  He really was just here to hang out.  Maybe take a nap.  Didn’t need to do anything in particular.  

He floated over to the couch and let himself drop.  He laid there for a few minutes, contemplating his place in the universe.  Introspection, however, was boring, and maybe he didn't want to sleep as much as he thought he did.  He sat up and looked around instead.  

Last time he was here, he'd had a good time checking out all of the statues Clockwork had in this room.  They were pretty cool.  

But today Danny's attention was arrested by the huge decorative hourglass sitting on Clockwork's coffee table. Ruby red sand floated slowly from the top lobe to the bottom one, twisting and swirling on their path down.  He stroked the silvery metal casing with one finger, liking the texture.  

It was pretty.  A conversation piece?  Danny couldn't think of any other reason Clockwork would have it out here.  He flipped it over and watched the sand run the other way for a while.  There was a lot more sand in one bulb than the other.  With how slowly the sand was falling and how big the hourglass was, it'd take forever even to get that little bit.  

He flipped the hourglass over again, wondering if the pattern the sand moved in would change at all, then shook it, testing the way gravity behaved on sand in all areas of the glass.  He flipped it again.  He wanted to see if it would do anything special when the sand ran out, but given the speed it was moving at, even that would probably take years.  

"So, Daniel, what have you been up to?"

Danny jumped, but turned to face Clockwork with a smile.  "Oh, you know."

"I do," said Clockwork, "but I'd like to hear it from you."

.

Clockwork carefully transferred the hourglass from the table to its case using telekinesis and being very careful not to tip it over.  Having gone through the trouble of getting Daniel attuned to it, he didn’t want to carelessly break that attunement.  

A few hundred years ago, the Observants had cracked down on tools one could use to reduce one’s age or extend one’s life, but the hourglass was easily the least obvious.  Clockwork estimated it would take Daniel nearly a year to notice that he was aging backwards.  

It wasn’t a complete solution, but if Daniel didn’t grow up, he wouldn’t grow up into that.  

.

Danny spun the top edge of… it looked a bit like an ancient rubix cube.  The metal squares had symbols instead of paint, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out the internal mechanism.  Then again, he didn’t know what the internal mechanism for a regular rubix cube was, either.  He should take one apart when he gets home.  It’d be fun.  

But it’d be even more fun if he could compare it to the mechanism in this one.  

The last row of symbols clicked into place, and all the sides were made of the same symbols.  Danny spent a few seconds admiring his work.  He’d never managed to solve one of these before.  

The cube fell apart.  Danny yelped, propelling himself over the back of the couch then peaking over the top of it.  It was just cubes.  Little dice.  No internal mechanism at all.  Huh.  

“Don’t worry,” said Clockwork, “it’s supposed to do that.”

Danny nodded and put himself on the couch again.  He prodded one of the dice, half worried that it would fall apart, too.  It didn’t.  It simply rolled over to a new symbol.  

His fingers felt… tingly.  He flexed his hands.  If Clockwork said it was supposed to be like that…

“How do I put it back together?”

.

Putting a limit on Daniel’s powers was a must.  If he wasn’t strong enough to destroy the world, then he couldn’t do it.  

The Box of Spes existed to seal ‘troubles.’  Pandora had made it long ago.  In this particular case, the troubles were Daniel’s powers, neatly bound with each piece he put back into place, the potential curtailed.

Most of them were powers Daniel hadn’t even touched yet, or that he had only used once, and Daniel was notoriously forgetful about his powers.  He would do just fine without the stranger, more dangerous ones.  

But if he did ever need to reach further, all Clockwork needed to do was open the box.  

.

Danny eyed the goblet Clockwork had put down…  Was it twenty minutes ago, now?  It was a pretty metal goblet.  Silvery black.  Fruit and chain designs sculpted into it.  Filled almost to the brim with purplish-red juice.  

Danny licked his lips.  He was… curious.  He’d never seen Clockwork eating or drinking anything before, and he wanted to know what it tasted like, what it was.  It smelled tasty.  Sweet.  

He wanted it, but he knew that drinking someone else’s drink was the absolute peak of rudeness, so he was not going to do that.  

He was also wondering what Clockwork was doing that was taking so long, but he’d learned better than to go looking for Clockwork after last time.  At least, he thought he had.  He definitely still wanted to know…  Just, he didn’t want to walk in on anything like that again…  That had just been weird.  

So.  He waited.  And waited some more.  And (inside his head only) wished he’d brought a book.  Or a rubix cube.  He’d taken one apart and solving them was a lot easier now…

Waiting.  More waiting.  

He really wanted to know what it tasted like.  

A tiny sip wouldn’t hurt.  

He slid over to the goblet and picked it up.  If it was wine he’d be so mad at himself.  Cautiously, he sipped at it.  

It wasn’t wine.  It tasted a lot like cranberry juice.  A little bitter, but also sweet.  It was nice.

He carefully put it back down on the table.  Because he definitely hadn’t done that.  Nope.  

…  But then, Danny had never been successful at keeping things from Clockwork.  

Actually, Clockwork probably already knew.  

Ugh.  Danny really had to work on his impulse control.  

.

Pomegranates were a traditional medium for curses in the Ghost Zone, but the addition of the Stygian Goblet would make the natural effects of them much worse.  Protective spirits were especially vulnerable to them.  They wanted them, on some level.  Wanted that security.  

Bindings.  Tethers.  Chains.  Like the ones that brought Persephone back to the underworld every winter.

For now, the one linking Daniel to Long Now was weak.  But Clockwork could make it stronger… or shorter… as needed.  Reel him in.  Keep him close.  Keep him out of the way.  Keep him safe.

And bring him in when Clockwork needed to add another layer to the curses.  

Yes.  It really was almost too easy to curse Daniel.  

But it was the way things were meant to be.  

[literallyjustanerd]

Are you as inconsolable as I am about never getting to see what happened to Cody after he went AWOL?

GOOD, YOU SHOULD BE. And also, here's a fic about what I'm choosing to believe happened next.

Relationships: Commander Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander Cody & Captain Rex

Summary: Marshal Commander Cody has gone AWOL. Alone and on the run, he has nothing to guide him but the memories he struggles to confront, and the family he hopes he can reclaim. But that is not the only path calling to Cody. Obi-Wan is dead, at least officially, and yet, he cannot help but to hope. Already living on borrowed time, taking both paths may not be an option.

Read chapter one here or follow it on AO3 - any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

***

            Marshal Commander Cody of the esteemed 212th battalion of the GAR has pawned his armour for a few credits. Laid out the pieces before a seedy-looking merchant in the dim lower levels. Even haggled over the price like a common scrapper. Worst of all, he cannot even muster the dignity to feel ashamed for it.  Scarcely has half a rotation passed since he threw all his honour to the wind and went AWOL. But already he is learning that if he is to survive, there is little room for anything more in his mind than pragmatism and a healthy paranoia. Not that guilt and doubt don’t still try to muscle in on the edges. Once again, he is affronted with the conjured image of his holofile, the bold red stamps that would by now be plastered across every data signature: AWOL. Deserter. Enemy of The Empire.

            It isn’t as if he had woken up that day with the express intent of abandoning his post. Though admittedly it had been a long time since he’d woken up feeling anything like a loyal soldier. His final weeks as Marshal Commander he had felt more like a pawn in a particularly brutal game of dejarik than a respected military veteran. He could feel it in all his brothers. The lurking unease, like the prickling at the back of your neck when you sense a sniper’s barrel trained on your back. And yet, on top of it, a thick blanket of haze that made those feelings impossible to face, turned your thoughts away from them the moment you tried to approach. He would march through his day, carrying out the orders that were given, thankful for the brief glimpses of peace that obedience would afford. It became almost meditative at times. Though he knew it should alarm him to feel his sense of self shrink in favour of acting without thought or question, he couldn’t seem to rein himself in. But at night, in the quiet of the barracks, his mind would wander, seek out those places that made his skin crawl and set his teeth grinding. The inexorable human impulse to poke at an open wound, just to feel the pain thrill through your veins. To be brazen and treacherous enough to wonder silently in your own mind if The Empire is really acting in your best interest. That wound is one of the deepest, has never been allowed to heal over before Cody prods at it again. But there are plenty of other scabs to pick.

            The reports all say that he is dead. He. The general. His general. Cody has had to fight especially hard against the pains in his head to even think those words. His name is still out of reach. He knows it, knows it as well as he knows himself. It may as well be etched into his armour with every other dent and blaster strike, carved like his scars into his very skin, and yet not since the moment that Order 66 had taken effect has he been able to say it. Not to anyone, not even to himself. The night before he left for that last mission to Desix, he had lain with lips parted until he had lost track of the seconds on the chrono, trying to force his mouth around the words. No sound came, and yet his lungs had emptied as though he had cried it out loud. Even when he read the reports –which he did repeatedly, a solemn ritual under the cover of night– his eyes would slide off the name like oil. Nonetheless, he knew the facts. Or what The Empire had decided would be the facts. His general, his traitorous, treasonous Jedi general, was dead. Though no body had been recovered. And reports were inconsistent about who had witnessed the supposedly fatal fall. Cody had seen all the Jedi perform far more death-defying feats than surviving the battle on Utapau. Force, his general had even been declared dead once before and returned days later with barely a scratch. His stride unbroken and the same serene smile on his face that left Cody with a new knife in his chest every time he pictured it.

            Desix had been the final straw. The last fistful of dirt on the grave of his faith. Faith in peace, faith in The Empire, faith in anything he or his vode had done in the years since their creation. Ames had not been the least bit surprised when the order of her execution was given. She had expected it from the start.

Peace was never an option.

And yet, she had softened at Cody’s words, let Cody wax about war and survival and deliberation (where had he learned to negotiate like that?) and respected him enough not to shoot him when he laid down his blaster. She wholly expected The Empire to kill her without thought or mercy, and yet, the hope of a ceasefire, of safety for her people, had been enough of a lure to let her release Grotten. A hope Cody had given her, and a hope that earned her nothing more than a blaster bolt to the chest. Perhaps he was punishing himself for his foolishness on the transporter back to Coruscant. Or maybe he had finally been given the push he needed to muscle through the pain and face what he had known from the beginning. Huddled in the corner, aching joints lowered to the floor, he had trained his breaths deep and slow, and plunged headfirst into the roiling sea of his memory, fighting the swell to get down deep. At first he was fumbling in the dark, grasping for something, anything solid, and the screeching dissonance in his head almost made him abandon the task altogether. But then, a glint in the distance. Something to latch onto, anchored far enough below the surface that the waves no longer hit quite so hard.

***

            “How you do it, I do not know.”

Outside. Orange sky. Gentle breeze, slight chill. Quiet.

“I only do what needs done, sir. You’re the one the men look to for assurance.”

The laugh that follows is not right. Meek and cynical where it should be soft and melodic. Cody aches.

“Assurance, I’m afraid, that is more often an act than it is genuine, my dear.”

“Sir?” A hand atop his, a warm weight. Is it really there? Or had Cody merely wished so hard for it that his fantasies have leeched into memory?

“The war is nearing its end. I know everyone here can sense that.” A shaky intake of breath, a furtive glance stolen to the side. “I have felt something in The Force. I cannot be sure what it means, I only… I fear the end of the war may not bring the peace we hope for.”

Cody opens his mouth to speak. No words come. This is not right.  A shuffle beside him. A face no longer in profile. It is hard to look him in the eyes – like staring too long into hyperspace.

“All of this to say, when I find myself at ends like this, it’s you I look to. Whenever I’m in need of something safe, something steadfast. You’re… a rock in the storm. For me, for all the men. They need you.” A pause. In reality perhaps only a moment. In memory it is a lifetime.

“As I need you, Cody.”

Lilac sky. Quiet. The air is still. And as clear as crystal, it is there. The name laid out in memory, falling from lips that now refuse to find it.

“And you’ll have me, Obi-Wan. Always.”

***

            He had woken the next morning after scarcely little sleep, the sun still buried far beneath the horizon. Silently, methodically, he had risen, gathered his things, and walked for the last time from his barracks. He had not paused before his feet crossed the threshold. He had not looked over his shoulder at the towering buildings with their painted-over insignias and walled-up memories. His feet took him through the streets, moving like a ghost to the nearest bank of elevators, and he had watched level 5127 slide up and out of view. For the first few hours he had managed to convince himself that he might have intended on returning. Even as all of his meagre belongings clattered in his pack with every step. Listless, he’d spent some time first wandering the streets and alleys, aimlessly turning corners and weaving further into the shadowy arms of Coruscant’s underbelly. Then, as lights flickered on in what passed for dawn on the lower levels, he slipped through the doors of a tiny speakeasy, the kind he used to reprimand his men for visiting during shore leave. A booth at the back was dark and secluded enough to take the edge off his fear at least momentarily. He spent seventeen of his forty-two credits on spotchka before he allowed himself to regret it. Twenty-four before he was allowed to realise that they would soon send troops after him. And a full thirty before he could finally approach the truth: he was never going back, and this departure was long overdue. CC-2224 was a wanted man.

            All of which left him with one final, looming question. He knew of clone deserters. Many. Some of his closest vode had come up on the daily reports as having slipped away in the night or disappeared during routine operations. Where they went next, how they paid their way, who they became… Cody had no hope of knowing. He was a soldier to the core of his being: his mind didn’t flex the way some of his brothers’ did. He knew little of the streets, the real world outside his insular military mindset. He knew how to plan an operation to take down a smuggler ship, not how to talk his way onto one. But unless he could get off Coruscant, he was a dead man walking. An example to be made to the other remaining clones, like the few captured deserters he’d seen before. The ones he’d forced himself not to look away from. The storm in his mind still rages, the water rising, and his chest tightens against the fear of drowning. From the depths another name rises, another he has fought to keep in his mind.

Rex is out there, somewhere. Reports had come in of his activity. They did not name him, and yet Cody knew immediately beyond any shadow of doubt. He could recognise Rex’s strategies from a mile away – fiercely clever and confoundingly crazy in equal measure. The Empire kept it quiet, not wanting to let slip that his numbers were increasing and their activities growing bolder. Weapons shipments disappearing. Counterfeit chain codes distributed to fugitives. An entire Imperial Freighter hijacked, once. Though he knew he was supposed to feel only contempt for such treasonous actions, Cody hadn’t been able to conjure anything but pride in his vod’ika, even before deserting. Now that he is allowed to think like a traitor, Cody allows himself a smile, his first in weeks, at the thought of seeing his brother again. Knowing Rex, though, finding him would be no easy feat. He was more cunning than Cody in espionage, always had been. His comms were airtight, his trails nonexistent. Making contact would be tantamount to impossible. Although not quite as impossible as the other thought tugging at Cody’s mind, the other path he felt himself being swayed towards. Regardless, both were pipe dreams until he got some credits together and left this planet far behind.

            So it is here that Cody finds himself. It isn’t even an argument in the end. He had expected some trepidation as he tried out the thought of selling his armour. But propriety and nostalgia are weak arguments against self-preservation. It only made sense. He is instantly recognisable in his armour. It weighs him down, and it’s worth the most by far of anything he had to sell.

A worn-out chime rasps through the pawn shop to signal his entry, and he somewhat awkwardly weaves his way to the counter at the back. His movements are still impeded, despite stripping his upper armour off to leave only his blacks. A surly twi’lek greets him with little more than a bare lift of an eyebrow. Could be that he isn’t the first clone deserter to find their way to her. Could be her profession demands she keep an unwavering demeanour. Or, it could be the death stick dangling at the corner of her mouth. It certainly explains the haze and smell permeating the cramped space.

“Selling or buying?”

Cody hefts the pack containing his helmet and upper armour to the bench.

“How much for the whole set?”

After a clumsy attempt at haggling, he relents on a price that seems at least halfway fair. Even throws in one of his larger blasters to sweeten the pot, only keeping the smaller, more easily-concealed pistols to himself. The twi’lek catches him off guard when she asks him for his name. She must sense his panic, the slightest twitch pulling at her mouth.

“Don’t worry. Doesn’t get shared with the seccers,” she said. “Don’t even have to be your real name. Just something you can give if you come back.” Cody can’t picture that ever happening. And yet, after a beat of silence, he speaks.

“Dar’ruus.” Nodding sluggishly, the twi’lek scrawls the name down on a stained sheet of flimsi. He spends the first part of his pay picking up a shirt, a pair of worn pants, and a jacket. Second-hand but sturdy, some type of synthetic animal hide. Dark colours, easy to blend in. He fastens the jacket up to the neck and pulls on the hood, but still, he feels bare. Raw and exposed, like a tauntaun with newly shed skin. The twi’lek regards him with the same steady disinterest as when he’d first entered, barely moving as he approaches the counter to pay for the clothes and a few basic supplies. His armour still sits next to the till, not yet put away. Gingerly, he runs his blaster-calloused fingers over the helmet’s top fin one last time, as if in apology, though he is unsure to what or to whom he is apologising most. When his fingers reach the end, tumbling from the once-golden crest, he takes a long, deliberate breath. He sets his jaw, straightens his back to raise his chin above the fog of guilt constricting his lungs, and does what he always has done: put one foot in front of the other, and trust that the plan, whatever it may be, will catch up with him.

[indigowallbreaker]

Dimiashe Week Day 6: Snowed In

My final instalment for this event is also another short one! Enjoy the post-canon snowy time snuggles <3

--

The snow storm that had been predicted to blow itself out by midnight continued into dawn. Instead of getting an early start for his journey back to Castle Fhirdiad, Dimitri stood in the doorway of Ashe’s inn, contemplating the waist-high pile of snow that covered the front walk and beyond. Though he was dressed for travel, a biting wind smacked into him and Dimitri found himself shivering. That did it. Dimitri shut the door and began to take off his outer layers. 

Ashe’s inn was, in a word, cozy. The bottom floor held a welcoming fireplace with several chairs and couches set before it, tilted in a way that encouraged conversation. Tables had been shoved against the wall for the night but Dimitri knew they normally overflowed with good food and drink. A plush rug by the front door instantly warmed any guests seeking shelter from the elements.

Dimitri visited Ashe and this inn as often as he could, for as long as he could. Which never felt like enough. The place just felt like home in a way a drafty castle couldn’t— and Ashe’s love permeated every inch. As annoying as it was to have the weather stall his plans, Dimitri had a hard time pretending to be disappointed at getting to spend more time here. He hung his coat and furs by the door, swiped some snowflakes from his pants, and headed back upstairs. 

It was early. Even Ashe’s head chef was still asleep. All the guest rooms were silent as Dimitri made his way across the creaky floorboards towards the farthest bedroom. He had every intention of waking Ashe to warn him about the storm outside, perhaps offer his help in shoring up the roof or clearing a path towards the main road. 

But then Dimitri opened the door and saw Ashe, and all those thoughts ground to a halt. 

Ashe was curled up on his side nearly exactly as Dimitri had left him. He had pulled the quilt tighter around himself, but his hair was still strewn across the pillow, his mouth was still slack with sleep, and his lax face still caused Dimitri’s heart to clench with affection. Sights like this made Dimitri want to throw away his crown and take up permanent residency in Ashe’s bed. He would give up the whole of Fódlan for Ashe, and he would do it gladly.

Undoing the laces, Dimitri popped his boots off and gingerly climbed back into bed. It was all too easy to slide into place against Ashe’s back. Dimitri wrapped an arm around his torso, burying his face in Ashe’s neck and breathing deep. Any lingering desire to leave the inn vanished as Ashe let out a soft hum. Dimitri slipped a hand under Ashe’s shirt and drew soothing circles on his abdomen.

Ashe relaxed against him even as his eyes opened a sliver. “‘Mitri?” He slurred.

“Mhm.”

“Thought you’d be gone…”

“Snowed in,” Dimitri stated simply, shutting his eyes and hoping that would be answer enough.

Ashe sighed, long and regretful. “I need to check on the roof. Over the kitchen especially. Might be a good idea to start the lounge fire…”  

Dimitri tightened his hold. “Not yet.”

“If I don’t—”

“You have a solid home, beloved.” Dimitri kissed behind Ashe’s ear. “It will hold for an hour or so more.”

Ashe considered these words. Dimitri continued making circles until Ashe locked their ankles together and settled into him once more. “As you wish, your majesty.”

“Ashe—”

“One hour, Dimitri,” Ashe said lightly, a balm to Dimitri’s old pet peeve. He lay a hand over Dimitri’s and laced their fingers together. 

Dimitri grinned against Ashe’s neck. “One hour. I will even stay the day to help with anything you require. If that pleases you.”

This time, Ashe’s sigh was one that caused him to melt further into the bed, submitting himself to Dimitri’s embrace. “It pleases me more than I can say.”

Soon enough, Ashe’s breathing evened out. Dimitri felt sleep tugging him back under as well. His last thoughts were how fortunate it was to rule a land so prone to snow storms.

[njararna]

i recently finished vld and i’m like. struck by how dissonant the final two seasons are. it really does feel like a whole new show and not in a good way; the plot is extremely flimsy, characters are introduced who wind up having no real narrative importance but eat up screentime anyways, relationship arcs are started and dropped, and the battles just wind up being a repeat of ‘we have to stop this laser’ and just fights in an empty wasteland with nothing interesting in the dynamic or strategy. when i was watching s7 i remembered why i stopped before the final episode, because seeing that new robeast come out of the sky immediately post-sendak just made me so tired.

s8 as well just…doesn’t know what it wants to do. allura is put through the absolute most and COULD have an interesting arc of being pushed down a darker path as a result of her unresolved grief and continuous loss but the plot of her taking in the dark entity really winds up having no actual consequence on the narrative. genuinely, her and lance’s relationship could have been easily one of the most interesting in the show had the writers actually paid attention to the stuff they had allura say in s8e1 to lance about not having a family or a home or anything at all. it could have been a really great exploration of two characters seeking solace in each other for the wrong reasons—allura because she desperately needs someone to not leave her, lance because he needs someone to love him to feel like he has worth. launch date left me feeling really sad at the end and i know it wasn’t the intention. their relationship throughout the whole season just seemed to be undercut by this feeling of sadness and a misalignment. i couldn’t believe they were really in love, even at the end. they had little moments together and when they did, it was so devoid of chemistry or energy. honestly i really just mourn all the potential allura as a character really could’ve had especially in s8, and how the end for her after all this loss and pain and grief was for her to essentially kill herself, that her best ending was to reunite with her dead father and not to keep living despite it all, that she wouldn’t get to see altea restored or to be the leader for her people she wanted so much to be. it’s a tragedy and not in a good way.

and i think vld’s desperate attempts at ‘nuance’ and ‘morally grey’ characters really wind up sabotaging it in the end; i can’t tell you how hard i rolled my eyes when they tried to convince me zarkon was simply blinded by quintessence or when lance told those kids how ‘allura saw good in everyone, even in zarkon and honerva’. this isn’t how you write nuance, zarkon prior to quintessence had been shown to believe firmly in the castes in galra society and saw the potential of quintessence as simply a means to create greater weapons. the galra were an empire before they went galactic, and empires have never been good in the first place. nuance isn’t about saying how ‘the bad guys have a little bit of good in them actually’, or that ‘in another reality, alteans are evil’. and these muddied messages lead to people actually saying the galra empire wasn’t all bad. looking at the series as a whole, i feel it was doomed from the start to be this way, and its unfortunate. there is so much potential here, and its wasted.

(also the belief that s8 was edited and reanimated is a bunch of bs, while certain elements like ezor being alive were 100% edited in and shiro’s wedding a last minute edition, doesn’t mean the rest of the season underwent major overhauls. its clear the studio was under a tight schedule and the amount of money you’d need to animate a different character over/remove a character for entire scenes or scrap entire pre-existing footage is ridiculous and not to mention an exorbitant amount of work. the reality is is that s8 was poorly written from the jump, and while executive meddling is likely (as always), i think we have to accept there’s no secret s8 or conspiracy. it was bad. when you listen to the showrunners, they’re proud. i don’t think major editing was the case OR that they sabotaged their own work because of the fanbase. these are all just excuses to cope with the reality)

[writers-requiem]

Okay, so this is for me personally since I still cannot get that day out of my head. For context, Saturday, April 6th, I went to the Gem State Comic Con and met Spencer Wilding, the stunt actor for Benicio Del Toro in "The Wolfman (2010)" I even took a picture and got a signed photo by him. Since then I've been having dreams of werewolf Lawrence that don't seem to show any signs of going away so I thought I'd share one of them with you all. Also as a bit of added context, since it's a dream, it doesn't follow the canon of the film, so expect that.

A Night of Thrills, Drinks & Cuddles With The Wolfman

(The Wolfman x Author)

Genere: Kissing, Fluff, Small Thriller, Comfort

Pairing: The Wolfman (2010 version) x Author (me)

Rating: E 10+ for Everyone 10 and up

Warnings: Slight thriller

I was in the middle of the forest, sitting on a ravine by a rushing waterfall, just enjoying the moment. A calm from the chaos of everything going on in the world. I had a sketchbook out and a pencil in hand, just doodling away. The sound of rushing water and rustling leaves helped me to center myself so I could remain focused on the task I was doing. Overall, not a bad time really. I looked to see that it was a full moon tonight. I didn't think anything of it and thought I 'd be safe. After all, werewolves or horrible creatures of the night don't truly exist do they?

But then I heard a twig snap. It sounded rather far away and so I assumed that it was probably a bear or wolf. Dangerous creatures yes, but usually only if they feel threatened. So I just went back to my sketches and listened to the wind blowing in the trees and the sound of wolves howling to the moon herself. Then I heard footsteps and they were, closing in, on my position. I brushed it off as an animal, curious about a human being in their territory. But out of a mix of my own curiosity and paranoia, I turned around to see who or what was behind me. To my surprise I saw the silhouette of a man in the distance, in this foggy night forest. I assumed someone was trying to play some kind of prank on me and I had caught them before they could make their move. So I just waved to them, acknowledging that they were indeed there and went back to drawing again.

That's when I heard a wolfish growl coming from, behind me. I turned to see the man closing in. I gave him a nervous laugh and told him "The prank's over. You can stop now." But he continued his approach. I immediately packed up all my stuff, put it in my bag, and the first chance I got I bolted. Running as fast as I could, weaving out of the way of obstacles in my path as I attempted to find a police station or a ranger outpost to seek help. A crazed man was chasing me, for what reason I did not know. But what I did know was that he somehow was able to catch up with me in a matter of seconds. Unless this man was built like Usan Bolt, nobody is that fast. I decided to make sure he wasn't actually following me by taking a series of right turns through intervals of about two to three trees. And he was still on my tail. That's when he paused for some reason. I knew I could use that moment of pause to gain at least a few extra feet of distance from him so I ran faster than my body would've been able to handle.

My legs were on fire, my body was sore and I was sweating up a storm. This was more adrenaline than I was used to in my life and I thought it was over, but then I heard the man again. Sounded like he was running. He was still on my ass. So even though it hurt me, I kept running to stay away from him. I was out of breath, my heart was pounding in my ears, my legs were ready to break down completely, but I still. Kept. Running. I had no choice but to run. If I didn't, who knows what could happen? But after forever of running, I was back at the ravine where this whole misadventure started.

The man closed in on me, his form dwarfing my own as he loomed over me. My legs had given out completely and I was about to fall onto the ground and possibly get knocked out, ready to be possibly eaten by him, but he caught me and set me down gently. "Don't worry." He said in a gruff yet soothing voice. "I gotcha, I gotcha." He carefully lifted me up and held me over his shoulder like I was a piece of livestock. He then walked over to a cottage and let us right in. He carefully sat me in a rather comfy red velvet couch. "I'll be right back." He said. "I'll make you a drink. Hot chocolate? Or tea?" I replied with "Hot chocolate, please." In a slightly meek voice. He nodded and left for the kitchen, but he stopped and looked back at me. "Whipped cream on top?" I just nodded and he went into the kitchen. I just laid back and relaxed a bit. It was still kinda crazy to think about it though, and I still didn't have a clear enough head to get a good look at him. Once he comes back that is.

Shortly after about a minute or two, he walked back into the front room and handed me a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in one hand while holding a cup of tea in the other. He walked up and sat next to me on the couch as we stared into the flames of the fireplace. He then wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me in closer. We took a sip of our drinks and snuggled into each other. His fur being surprisingly warm and cooling at the same time. I was kinda drowsy, so I leaned in a little closer and he seemed to get the message. He took the mug from my hand and set it and his own drink down on the coffee table, he then gently laid me down on the couch and laid on top of me, cradling me in his arms. He proceeded to plant a kiss on top of my head and nuzzle me to sleep. But not before I gave him a kiss on the cheek in return. And together, we slept the night away, just enjoying each other's company and warmth.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

First Impressions - Chapter 5

Rating: 18+

Features: Secondo x OC (Ophelia)

Tags: making out, oral sex, sex, pillow talk, definitely no falling in love at all

(Also available on AO3)

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Most of the afternoon heat had given way to the evening breeze leaving the garden comfortably cool. The long shadows cast by the trees and the way the moonlight and the faint glow of the streetlights, the lingering lights from the Abbey windows, washed out the colour of the flowers made it seem like a different place entirely. It was quiet and peaceful. Far enough away from the noise of the city to hear very little of the endless hum of human activity. Late enough that they were the only ones walking the tidy paths winding through all of Papa Primo’s hard work. There were, without doubt, ghouls out wandering the grounds. Though they tended to slip off into the woods or out to the pond rather than risking Papa’s wrath if they damaged anything within the garden itself. 

Their footsteps crunched softly over the well worn path. Ophelia’s hand rested on his arm, savouring the warmth radiating off him and through his suit jacket. Secondo consciously shortened his strides, it was a casual stroll, not a race across the grounds. 

“I see you out here for lunch.” He kept his voice low, as if breaking the silence might spoil everything. “You don’t care to take your meals with the others?”

She chuckled softly. He had seen, she knew. The same way she’d seen him watching. “I spend all day inside, surrounded by siblings. It’s nice to be able to come outside and get some fresh air. To read my book and to listen to the birds. Papa Primo works so hard to make this place come to life, it would be a shame to not take advantage of it.” Ophelia looked up at him, sly smile on her lips. ”Not that I would reject an offer of company, were someone interested.”

Secondo frowned. Not angry, just realising how obvious he’d been. “... I don’t like to interrupt.”

She nodded thoughtfully, not backing down. “Then consider this an open invitation to join me as you please.”

He opened his mouth to argue and closed it again. What was there to say? A hollow denial of something she’d already seen? 

“I will keep this in mind. Grazie.”

“I don’t see you in the dining hall much either.” 

There was that hint of teasing again, and again he couldn’t even muster a mild annoyance. As much as the bitter, jaded part of him wanted to. Just some small annoyance to plant the seed that would grow into a wall of thorns around feelings he had ignored so long, he didn’t even know where to begin dealing with them. Something he could turn into anger because it felt so much stronger than admitting it was fear. But it wasn’t there. For the first time in as long as he cared to remember. It simply wasn’t there. 

“I prefer my office.” He looked down at her with a smirk. “I get more done this way, fewer people to interrupt.”

“And, it helps maintain that air of mystery.” 

He raised a brow. “You think I am so mysterious?”

“You don’t?” She mirrored his expression. 

“I am not so complicated as people think.” He turned off the path, crossing over to the tree and the bench where he’d seen her take her lunch. “But I hear the rumours.”

“So do I.” Ophelia admitted without hesitation. 

Secondo took a seat and she settled next to him. Closer than she’d dared before. Her arm still tucked through his. Not that he made any move to pull away. It would be rude, he reminded himself. To pull away like that. The night is cool and she is likely only seeking warmth. He held onto her for her sake. Of course. He wasn’t a monster, was he?

Aren’t you?

“I hope I don’t disappoint.” He said, something a bit tired in his tone. 

“No.” She answered gently, looking up at him. His features were softened in the low light until it was hard to see any hint of Papa at all. “Not a bit. If I thought you were the man from the rumours, I don’t know that I would have come. And I would have been disappointed if they were right. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think that they have any idea who you really are and that seems like a terrible shame. They’re missing out.”

For a long moment, he stared back at her wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier if she’d just hit him. A slap felt like it would have been easier to take. This hurt more, in a way he wasn’t prepared for. This hurt more, and he wanted her to do it again . Somewhere, deep down, a part of him screamed to be seen. Really seen. For once. For real. Without having to beg. Fighting against every urge, every instinct to push the need and the want away. So desperate to be heard above the ever present chorus of hateful, angry, bitter, insecure, terrified bullshit raging in his head. 

“Forse sto solo nascondendo il mostro.” It came out more a whisper than he’d meant, but his voice failed him. 

She matched his volume, staring at him until he was half certain she could see directly into his soul. “È davvero questo che vuoi farmi credere?”

“No.” No, please. Please. Not that. Not again. 

Her palm was warm against his cheek, chasing away the chill. Secondo leaned into the touch before he caught himself. Before her lips met his and his hands found her hips to pull her closer. Before he lost himself in the taste of her and the blind, half mad need for more. 

Before he’d even processed that she’d reached for him first. 

For every bit he gave, she matched him. Without hesitation. Pressing herself up against him eagerly, unreservedly. Heart pounding against his own. The soft skin of her neck was like silk under his hand, running his thumb along her jaw and cradling the back of her head. Her breath hitched when he kissed her throat, moaning when he ran his tongue over her pulse point. 

“Secondo…” 

It was barely a whisper in the dark but it hit him with a force he hadn’t braced for. Secondo, not Papa. It was always Papa with the siblings. Always the title and never him. It put a distance between them. Kept things simple and clear cut. And when they’d leave, it didn’t hurt. Because Papa didn’t need to have a heart that got hurt and Secondo wasn’t really a part of it. Papa was the part he could shed like an ill-fitting suit and put away. Secondo still remained, unscathed. 

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. The razor sharp voice of his fears cut deep. 

But she’d asked. She’d asked and he’d told her. 

Not Papa. Secondo.

“Ophelia.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder. 

He had more to say. Something smooth, he was sure. Something practised and sexy. But her nails scratched over his scalp setting fire to every nerve and making his cock throb until it ached. When he opened his mouth to speak, what came out instead was possibly the least dignified noise he’d ever made. Secondo dropped his head onto her shoulder, half to hide the way he cringed at himself and half to claw back enough self control to retain even a little dignity. 

“Non mi hai detto che sei una strega.” He huffed when he was sure he could trust himself to speak again. 

She chuckled, echoing his words back at him. “You’re not so complicated.” 

Her nails ran, feather-light, over the back of his head again. He managed to keep more composure, but the breath he let out only barely covered the moan hiding just beneath it. Caught between begging her not to stop and taking control over the situation back roughly. How had he gotten so completely off track so fast? He knew this dance. He knew it inside and out. Yet there he was, on the verge of pleading for more. Straining against his trousers. Desperate to hear even a few words of praise. 

You are either a blessing from the Old One, he thought. Or a curse. I can’t tell which. 

Secondo’s mouth found her neck again, counting it a victory when she melted into his touch. “C'è un posto privato nella serra.”

“Mi piacerebbe vederlo.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He barely needed to be told once. His hand found hers and he was off in the direction of the greenhouse as fast as he dared with her hurrying to keep up. Too focused on getting there to care much about what Primo would have to say in the morning. He could apologise then. It would be worth losing half the day to helping with tedious chores as repayment. 

His keys seemed absurdly loud in the quiet garden. Rushing to find the right one in the dark. Ophelia pressed up against his back while he quickly flicked through every key on the ring. His concentration, not aided in the slightest by her wandering hands. Nearly taking the door off its hinges when he finally got it unlocked and pushed his way inside. 

The light filtered through the frosted glass panels, just barely keeping the dark at bay. He blinked hard to adjust and abandoning the effort just as quickly. It didn’t matter. He knew the way. Primo was a creature of routine and habit. His things were always kept neatly and organised. Secondo knew the path to the hidden space his brother had created well enough to find it blindfolded. Tucked behind a wall of greenery, Primo’s tiny oasis of a sitting room and the daybed he kept for… company. 

He turned and scooped Ophelia up, claiming her mouth again as her legs hugged his waist. Every moan and whimper driving him on. Walking through the greenery and past the work benches without a glance. Only setting her down once they were tucked away, next to the bed. Surrounded by the humid warmth that hadn’t been lost to the night yet and the smell of a hundred types of exotic flowers. Shaking off his suit jacket while she loosened his tie and worked at his buttons. 

Ophelia paused at his waist, looking up at him. Fingers resting on his belt. “May I?”

Staring down at her hungrily, Secondo expected the rush - the familiar feeling of control and power. What came instead was need and more need. For her hands on him. To hear her coming undone. To taste every inch of her. “Si.”

She made quick work of his belt and trousers. Fingers teasing his length, stroking slowly, teasingly. Her eyes stayed locked on his, soft and submissive. But the fire still burned white hot. He could lie to himself about a lot of things, but no lie would ever make him believe that the submission wasn’t a choice, a gift, and one she would snatch away if it was taken for granted. The corner of his mouth turned up and he gave a silent prayer of thanks for this night. His hand cupped her jaw and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her hot breath on his hand and the way she opened her mouth obediently made his cock twitch in anticipation. Her lips closed around his thumb and when her tongue swirled around it, when she sucked at it softly, his breath came out a husky growl. He barely noticed her reaching behind her back or the soft sound of the zipper. 

Her dress dropping silently to the floor and pooling around her feet, however, did get his attention.

His hands and his mouth were on her all at once. Following her back onto the bed like a man possessed. Every gasp and moan and whimper from her driving him on. His chest rumbled and there was a dark triumph when his fingers slipped between her legs and found her soaked through the silk of her underwear. His thumb teasing her though the fabric. Ophelia gasped and let out a shuddering breath, her hands catching his face, pulling him into a fierce kiss. The submissive performance breaking for a moment of pure, unrestrained desire that Secondo was certain could sustain him until the end of his days. 

“Sei così bagnata.” He stared back at her when she finally relaxed down onto the mattress again. His pale eye glowing in the dark like the full moon on a clear night. “Mi lascerai assaggiare?”

“Si. Ti prego. ” She answered breathily, her hips rolling against his touch, trying to get even a little more. “ Ti prego, Secondo …”

It was harder to pull back than he would ever admit. And hearing her beg… What had he told himself? One night? To get it out of his system? To go back to normal? But that sound would live in his memory if he had a thousand more years. 

Still, Secondo pulled himself away, taking her underwear with him - dropped with her dress on the floor. One hand caught her ankle, kissing and biting softly at her thigh. He sank down and ran his fingers through her sweet folds, teasing her entrance, his thumb circling her clit again. Drunk on the sounds she made. Trying to remind himself that there was no rush. But he was parched . So hard it ached, begging for release. All of his restraint shattered like glass. Burying his face like he was set on drowning. The roll of her hips riding his nose as he lapped at her entrance, pressing his tongue as deeply as he could.

“Secondo…” Ophelia gasped and moaned, her back arching off the bed. Gripping the bedding, trying and failing to control her breathing. Fluttering around his tongue as he pushed her toward the edge. 

Every ounce of willpower was focused on not rutting against the bed like some mindless animal. He had to have enough self-control for that. Satanas, it wasn’t easy when his name was dripping off her lips in the midst of every shameless sound he dragged out of her though. The closer she got to the edge, the more he pushed her on. Feeling her losing her rhythm and her breath. 

“I can’t… Ti prego… Sec-” Her words were cut off as she came. A strangled cry that the thin walls of the greenhouse had no hope of containing. Bucking against his grip and his face while he greedily drank up every drop she gave him. Not letting her settle until he was finished and she whimpered, shaking and trying to catch her breath. 

He quickly wiped his face and, running a warm hand over her stomach, climbed back up onto the bed. “Sei deliziosa, Ophelia.”

Ophelia reached for him, her knees already hugging his sides. “Per favore... ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te.” Her voice was soft. Her hands wandering over every bit of skin she could reach. When she looked up at him, there was something sincere in her gaze. “Sei perfetto... perfetto .”

Say it again. Please… say it again. Every fibre of his being screamed for more. Even when he clenched his jaw to keep the thought from escaping. There was no possible way to live down the shame of it if he were to fall into whining and begging. Two words of praise couldn’t be all it took to break him. 

But, sweet Asmodeus, he needed it like air. 

Secondo leaned down, biting teasingly at her shoulder. Hiding his expression again and painfully aware that it seemed to be forming a pattern. “How do I say no when you ask so sweetly, ah?”

Her fingers ran over all of his need and want, leaking pre until it dripped heavily on to her stomach. He huffed out a breath, grabbing her hip tight. Her breath next to his ear, keeping her voice low. “ Chiavami, Secondo… Chiavami forte. Ti prego.” 

He was, if nothing else, good at following directions. 

Lining himself up, he pushed in deep. Slowly, letting her adjust, revelling in her sharp breath and the quiet whine at the stretch. He drew his hips back slow before thrusting in hard, answered by a soft cry. Secondo grinned wolfishly and did it again. And again. Picking up a faster pace, faster and harder, pounding against her until her eyes rolled back in her head and her words failed her. Until there was nothing but her perfect wet heat, her body against his, and he never wanted it to end. The way she moved with him and gripped him tight. Her nails were on his scalp again and her legs hooked behind his hips, pulling him closer, harder, deeper. 

He would have happily suffocated between her thighs and he would just as happily let her fuck him to death. Milk him for every last drop until his heart gave out. 

Ophelia’s breathing, her movements, the sounds she made gave away how close to the edge she was. And he had no intention of pulling back. Intent on driving her over that cliff. Chasing the need to hear her break the silence of the garden again. Chasing his own need. His hand buried in her hair, pulling it free from what remained holding it up, like silk through his fingers. Gripping it harder and tugging her head back. His mouth was on her neck again, teeth on her skin and her pulse beating wildly under his tongue. Leaving his mark on the unblemished landscape of her body. 

His voice growling next to her ear. “Sborra per me...”

Once, twice more his hips met hers and Ophelia’s breath caught in her throat like she’d been waiting for the command. Gripping him fiercely, back arching off the bed. Her cry split the night and it echoed right down to Secondo’s soul. His own rhythm faltering and breaking. Biting down on his own cry, he grunted through clenched teeth. His cock kicked hard inside her and he drove himself deep, spilling his seed. 

Stars lighting up behind his eyes, he gasped for breath. Hissing, overstimulated, when he pulled himself free and flopped onto his side next to her. Both of them lying there quietly, only the sound of their breathing keeping the silence at bay. And then she did something he was sure no one had ever done before. Ophelia rolled onto her side to face him, shifting closer, and paused. Looking him in the eye before moving another inch. 

“May I?”

Secondo hesitated a moment, trying to process what she was asking, and nodded. 

She closed the distance and curled herself up against his chest, softly kissing his neck. Her touch was gentle and careful, fingers ghosting over his skin, delicately teasing his chest hair. It was… comforting in a way he couldn’t ever remember anything being. Not in a moment like that at least. The hard edge of the end to the night he expected to feel looming seemed absent there, with her seeking to be closer, to be affectionate. Without the pressing need to get out of bed, to find discarded clothes, and to be gone. She stayed close, not held there by a demand, but because she wanted it. 

For the first time in a very long time, Secondo found he didn’t know what in the hell he was supposed to do. 

Run, his anxiety screamed. 

It’s only tonight and then she’s gone. The angry, bitter voice at the back of his mind joined in. One night. To get it out of your system. She’ll never stay. 

They never stay. The chorus gained steam. Never. 

Take what you need and go, before it hurts. 

Ophelia’s lips met his, drawing him back out of his thoughts so quickly, he felt dizzy. Running his fingers through her hair again, rubbing the spot where his grip held tight, trying to give himself a moment to catch up with reality. 

“Sei una creatura singolare, Ophelia.” He kept his voice low, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She chuckled, staring back at him with an easy smile. “Stavo proprio pensando la stessa cosa di te.” Her nose bumped against his and she stole another kiss. “I’m glad you didn’t wear your paints tonight.”

Secondo’s brow leapt up. That was a very rare sentiment indeed. “Oh?”

Her smile remained unchanged. “It was you I wanted.”

Secondo, not Papa. His heart ached again. Another blow he wasn’t prepared for. This woman, he was increasingly sure, would be the death of him. 

“Am I not Papa also?” He asked, without any offence in his voice, but genuine curiosity. 

“Si. Ma la vera domanda è - sei davvero tu? ”

That was the question, wasn’t it? The one he’d asked a thousand times and still didn’t have a clear answer. It had all been so muddled for so long. Long before Papa. He was something else before he got to be himself, and the one people wanted, the one people expected was the part he was told to play. Until he started to wonder if Secondo even existed anymore. And, if he did, was there anyone who actually wanted him? 

It was too much, right in that moment. The weight of it bearing down on him. He did the only thing he could. Secondo cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her. Deep and slow. Leaning into her warmth and focusing on her to the exclusion of everything else. 

“I think Seestor maybe does not fear you enough.” He said with a smirk. “ Willful and stubborn, she says. But no. No, this is not enough. You are made of hell’s own fire.”

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“Forse sto solo nascondendo il mostro.” = Maybe I’m only hiding the monster.

“È davvero questo che vuoi farmi credere?” = Is that really what you want me to believe?

“Non mi hai detto che sei una strega.” = You didn’t tell me you’re a witch.

“C'è un posto privato nella serra.” = There is a private place in the greenhouse.

“Mi piacerebbe vederlo.” = I would like to see that.

“Sei così bagnata.” = You are so wet for me.

“Mi lascerai assaggiare?” = Will you let me taste you?

“Si. Ti prego.” = Yes. I beg you.

“Sei deliziosa, Ophelia.” = You are delicious, Ophelia.

“Per favore... ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te.” = Please… I want you. I need you.

“Sei perfetto... perfetto.” = You’re perfect… perfect.

“Chiavami, Secondo… Chiavami forte. Ti prego.” = Fuck me, Secondo… Fuck me hard. I beg you.

“Sborra per me...” = Cum for me…

“Sei una creatura singolare, Ophelia.” = You are a singular creature, Ophelia.

“Stavo proprio pensando la stessa cosa di te.” = I was just thinking the same thing about you.

“Si. Ma la vera domanda è - sei davvero tu?” = Yes. But the real question is - is he really you?

[cellody]

DWC: Day III

FOREST & MORTALITY @daily-writing-challenge​

It had been a few months since Lance last did his flower picking in the deeper forest areas of Eversong Woods and beyond the small gardens decorating Silvermoon’s gate, so that was precisely what he’d set out to do. Little did he know he would also learn a lesson and be coerced into a bittersweet memory that kept him from gathering for weeks thereafter.

None of the native species he came across caught him by surprise but he was not seeking anything unique to add to still life set-ups for painting practice nor encase in resin bookmarks; no, his peaceful wandering was, at least for today, meant only to gather those with scents that he could dry and make into a potpourri mix. It wasn’t until he’d made his round to the beach and began heading back that a particular group of wild calla earlier missed had his humming dwindle to a fade and ambling slow to a halt.

They were local and familiar to him… but not this far from the waterfalls where he was far more used to seeing them. Pollination or the migration of seeds on the wind must have worked hard to carry them out so near the terrestrial change from grass to sand. Charmed by such lucky little blossoms, he knelt before them and, as with all the others, cut a few with his knife-sized dagger from the lower stem. Never did he claim an entire group.

“Oh—no! No, wait!”

It was a good thing he wasn’t mid-cut or that blade might have added another nick to the pad of his thumb with how suddenly his back snapped straight to attention. He’d have assumed the young voice was hollering to someone else but he’d just walked down the path and knew he was the only soul here, so with rising, confused fear, he turned just in time to meet the wide eyes of a young girl he presumed must have been fresh out of grade school.

Their stares mirrored one another’s shock for an awkward two seconds before the situation’s weighty truth was proven to her by the small handful Lance had of those white flowers. A camera about her neck and clutched in her hands trembled once as she then bumbled, “Those were for my mama…” Then, her voice strained, “I planted them.”

Lance was an easy man to make blush but this was the first time in years he could ever recall instead feeling all the blood rush away from his face with the pale, cold realization of what he’d just done. That nervous pause from a moment prior returned for an even longer span of time wherein he forgot to breathe and clutched his free hand over a heart aching so deeply his subconscious feared a rising medical hiccup. “I,” he whispered, “am so… so sorry…”

She proved to be acting as strong as she could muster despite the obvious shine of tears starting to gather in her eyes. “It’s okay…” He did only take a couple from what could otherwise have been an entire bunch, but it was still not what she’d hoped to see when running here after class to take pictures of their newly-opened buds.

“No, it’s not,” he scolded himself, tone equally as tense whilst he tried not to let her own tears wheedle his. The trimmed wild calla were set in the grass so he could mercilessly fidget with the air in front of himself as though unsure whether or not he ought to offer the poor dear a hug. “Please, I… I must do something to make this right! I knew these were growing someplace different yet I stupidly thought nothing more of it—Light, umm…” His fingers continued to scramble about his own torso in the same manner his brain was overworking itself trying to hatch any and all ideas that might mend his sin. “—I could… do a small painting in their likeness, to mask their mortality, or… make a crown of them, or tie them together for you to keep and dry…”

“A crown?” Her words were piqued with a sniffle but of course any little girl would tag such a word with wonder. She did not seem as frantic or as bothered as this sheep-like stranger before her—those missing would grow back—but she wasn’t going to reject the possibility of getting to play princess, either.

A crown. Good, good, he could do this.

“It will take just a moment; the stems are coiled together, like so, and… eventually, they will create a crown for you. O-or a wreathe if you wished to keep and hang it.” The only reason Lance was able to speak with enough fluidity to not expose his lingering horror was because he was now focused upon the task that held the potential means of mending such a gut-heavy feeling.

As he maneuvered the stems through loops and tightened their braids, the yet-unnamed girl sat an arm’s length away from him, trusting enough to watch his process though cautious enough to not be so close to a stranger. It was another two minutes before he felt satisfied enough with the end result to gently hand over a crown of natural means, additional colors and shapes he’d picked on the earlier half of his walk added for both diversity and stability—much to her glee, of course, since it made the piece rainbow.

“It’s so pretty…” Her tears had long gone in lieu of anticipation well-met with something like this. Thankfully, too, because of her age, Lance was able to make use of what he had for a smaller size that settled above her brunette ponytail perfectly.

Lance feigned a smile. “Again, dear, I am sick with apology… I promise to never again take from these. I will even try my damnedest to guard them from afar as best and as often as I can so that no one else picks and no critter uses them as fodder.”

She remained so smitten that she’d forgotten to reply by the time he finally stood and noted another presence briskly walking up the path towards them. Another brunette, too. When they drew closer still, he recognized the girl’s features upon this approaching face, put two and two together, and practically melted on the spot with relief so profound it had all that neglected air rushing back into his lungs. Here, he thought she’d planted the flowers for her mother in memoriam, but… no, her parent was very much so alive.

“I should have known,” she huffed whilst setting a hand atop the child’s head. “I hope Graciel was not a bother to you, sir; she certainly keeps me on my toes, not waiting for me to pick her up… like she has been told.”

Ivory hair swayed with his shaking head. “On the contrary…”

Graciel peered up and back at her mother with a cheesy, interrupting grin. “—Look, mama!” The crown was hoisted skyward with a few bounces to emphasize something new. “He made it for me. See? Your flowers are in it, too.”

Twice did the mother blink. Such generosity and an eye for arranging… “Goodness. And did you say thank you?”

Manners. Well-practiced, Graciel wheeled back around to bestow upon Lance a curtsy as precious as she. “Thank you! I am glad you picked my flowers~”

She may have been—and he may even have given the mother a nice little moment to speak of for the next few hours—but the initial misconception that he’d taken from a makeshift grave’s bouquet harassed him for the rest of his gathering life.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Surf’s Up! (Linked Universe story)

@bokettochild I am honestly surprised I did, in fact, get this written before midnight lol. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Summary: When the Chain settles in early, Legend seeks out some peace and instead ends up having a very eventful evening. Because where Wild’s concerned, nothing can be peaceful... especially when you throw Sky and Warriors into the mix. Fluff, fun, and chaos with the knights and the veteran.

The clouds created an overcast, shrouding the world below in dull light. A cold chill blew through the trees, blowing what remained of the dead leaves off branches and onto the ground in cascades of dull brown. Legend absentmindedly stepped on a few, listening to them crunch under his boots. He kicked a rock off the beaten path, watching his breath materialize in front of him in a cloud of mist.

 The group had set up camp early in the afternoon. With no monster sightings and a majority of the beasts eliminated, they were winding down in this particular era. It was nice, but it was almost too quiet. It made the veteran uneasy. He didn’t like not having a clear goal, and nothing about this adventure was clear.

 He wished they had something to work with. A particular temple to go to, an item to collect, a particular destination to free. This new adventure was literally just wander around and hope you find something. This adventure felt more like aimless walking with an occasional idea of what was happening with no end in sight.

 Legend’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard the clash of steel on steel. Alert, he hastened his steps, quickly making it to the other side of the trail into a small clearing. He slid to a stop when he saw Wild sitting on a hill looking ahead of Legend, the Master Sword on his back.

 The veteran approached the champion slowly, his eyes tracing from the back of Wild’s head to the sword to wherever he was looking. The sound of blades making contact emanated from farther into the clearing, down the hill a ways, and he finally caught sight of the source.

 Sky and Warriors were sparring.

 Legend watched the two for a moment, marveling at Sky’s speed as he dodged another attack from the captain. It was always fun watching the others spar. Legend sometimes made bets on the outcomes, and any day where the captain got knocked onto his backside was a good day, honestly.

 Shifting his attention to the champion, Legend asked, “You gonna go next?”

 Wild jumped, his hand flying to the Master Sword, when he stopped himself.

 Legend raised an eyebrow. “Boy, sure am glad you’ve got great situational awareness.”

 Wild rolled his eyes. “Oh hush. You sneak around like a little critter, it’s not the same.”

 “Right,” Legend quipped as he lowered himself to the ground, ignoring the mild ache in his knees. The ground was cold, and he shivered a little as his bare legs pressed against it. He pulled his knees to his chest. “Didn’t answer my question, though. Or did Sky already kick your butt?”

 Wild huffed with a smile. “No, not yet. I’m just watching. Figured I’d learn something.”

 “You could just ask him, you know.”

 Wild looked at his lap, his hands fiddling with his tunic. When he said nothing, Legend prompted, “Something wrong with that?”

 The champion sighed. “I… I used to be really good, apparently. He used to be really good. Anyway, I can barely remember anything these days.”

 Legend pulled Wild’s ponytail, garnering his attention with a yelp. “Enough of the self-pity talk, Champion. You’ve more than held your own in battle, and if I recall correctly, you summarily annihilated Ganon. You’re more than capable, so don’t give me that crap. We’ve got enough self esteem issues rolling off of Traveler, I don’t need you adding to the drama.”

 Wild looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before he shook his head and laughed. “I appreciate it, but I really wasn’t trying to be self-deprecating. I know I’m a capable warrior… and I do also wish Traveler would understand that he is too. But it’s not the same… I was a knight, and I thought I knew what that meant, but watching them…”

 “Being a knight isn’t some big deal, you know,” Legend snapped. “Just because they have those titles slapped in front of their names doesn’t mean they’re special. Knights more often than not were the morons helping the enemy by getting themselves tricked and trying to stop me.”

 Wild gave him a flat look. “That doesn’t mean they’re all like that, Vet.”

 Legend shrugged. “Of course not. But it also doesn’t mean that you should think they’re amazing just because they’re knights. Sky and Captain have proven their worth, their status as knights didn’t do that for them. You’re no different.”

 Wild hummed, looking at his lap once more. There was a yell and a grunt, and both Links looked below to see the captain on his back with Sky’s sword pointed at his face.

 Legend clapped. “What a great sight to see, thank you Sky.”

 The Skyloftian glanced up at them, eyes slightly widened in surprise, and then he quickly sheathed his sword and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. Then he reached down to help Warriors stand. The pair walked up to the two seated heroes, and Warriors made a scrunched face as he looked at Legend.

 “Thanks for flashing us,” he remarked.

 Legend let his legs slide to the ground in front of him. “I’m wearing shorts, you ass.”

 “Still a frightening sight.”

 Wild chuckled and unstrapped the Master Sword from his back, holding it out to Sky.

 “Champion wants you to teach him some sword techniques,” Legend interjected.

 Sky blinked, glancing at the champion. “Oh, really?”

 Wild froze for a moment and then threw a sharp gaze in Legend’s direction. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, furrowing his brow. “Actually… yes.”

 Sky smiled kindly. “Sure! Let’s go back down the hill.”

 Warriors crossed his arms, tilting his head as he looked at Legend. “How about I teach you some fighting moves? You could probably use it.”

 If looks could kill, the captain would be in pieces. “Pretty sure I’ve been fighting longer than you, so maybe I should be teaching you.”

 The captain huffed. “Well how about we spar and you prove it?”

 Legend shot to his feet. “Gladly.”

 Stomping down the hill, Legend felt his foot slip on some damp leaves and suddenly his world shifted as he slid the rest of the way on his backside. His cheeks burned and he heard Warriors laughing hysterically.

 “Are you okay?” Sky asked, kneeling beside him.

 Legend smacked his helping hand away, embarrassed and irritated, and stood. “I’m fine.”

 “Please teach me that move,” Warriors said as he caught up to him, his face glowing with amusement. “Does it have a name? Because I think the Veteran Slide would be a good one.”

 “I slide like that all the time down sand embankments,” Sky noted with a shrug. “Can’t really stand on the moving sand anyway, you have to kind of run against the current.”

 “Moving sand?” Wild asked. “It moves?”

 Legend ignored the conversation, adjusting his shorts, which had ridden up and practically given him a wedgie during the tumble, and his tunic, which was now covered in dirt and moisture. Sighing, he looked up to see that Warriors’ attention had been directed to the other two, and he felt his annoyance fade just a hair. Thanks, Sky.

 “Anyway, are you ready to get your butt kicked again?” Legend asked, drawing his weapon. “Because Sky’s not the only one who’s going to have that satisfaction.”

 “Ha! If you say so, Vet, but remember this is a sword fight. No fancy items.”

 Legend took a ready stance. “I don’t need my items to beat you.”

 Warriors smirked at that, also steeling himself for the fight. The two circled each other briefly before Warriors took the first move. Legend dodged it easily; he’d watched Warriors and Sky fight, he’d fought alongside the captain, he could figure this out easily enough. The Pegasus boots allowed him to be quick on his feet, preventing Warriors from ever landing a blow on him. Although he dodged around the captain, he himself couldn’t land a hit either. Warriors’ defense was rock solid, to the point that Legend almost started to wear himself out at the effort – every time they locked blades he’d send a riposte towards the veteran, who would parry and move into a sequence of attacks that would nearly break through but was never enough. He took some satisfaction in seeing that Warriors was also sweating.

Changing tactics, he instead held his ground and let Warriors draw closer. When their blades met, he tried to use his off hand to grip the captain’s wrist and keep his sword at bay. The captain dropped to the ground the instant his fingers curled around his wrist, bringing them both down with a grunt. Warriors maneuvered his blade to Legend’s neck just as Legend did the same thing.

 Both stared at each other, surprised and annoyed. Wild, who must have started watching at some point, whooped. “A draw!”

 “Hmph,” Legend curled his lip, climbing off the disheveled captain. “That was a dirty trick. Not to mention dangerous – you could have skewered yourself let alone me.”

 Warriors dusted himself off. “I had it completely under control.”

 “Right. Hence the draw, yeah? Because you totally wanted to not win.”

 “Maybe I just wanted you to feel better about yourself.”

 “Maybe you just need more training.”

 “Hey, I’ve got something that would be good training,” Wild chimed in. “It’s excellent for building core strength.”

 “What is it?” Sky asked curiously.

 Wild smiled, smacking his palm into his fist. “Shield surfing.”

 Legend gave him a bewildered look. “Shield surfing? I’ve heard of regular surfing, but…”

 Wild smiled maniacally.

 The next thing the veteran knew, he had somehow been talked into hiking up the nearby mountain with the other three, with Wild insisting that he’d seen some ‘great trails’ and that the ground was ‘soft and slick,’ which apparently was perfect for shield surfing. Legend still wasn’t sure about that.

 But at least he could get one last quip in as the four stood at the top of the track, side eying Warriors. “Guess you won’t be able to use my mirror shield to quaff yourself tomorrow morning.”

 Warriors groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m never going to live that down.”

 “All right, I talked you guys through the basics,” Wild continued, ignoring the bickering. “So, whoever reaches the bottom first wins! Ready?”

 Legend plopped his mirror shield on the ground and stepped on it, wobbling slightly in place, his shield hanging at the precipice, his heart in his throat. He hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at the trail (Wild had insisted it was obvious and wouldn’t be a problem, which rarely boded well). Warriors pinned his shield to the ground with one foot but hadn’t committed to balancing on it yet. Sky assumed a similar position to Warriors, his body tense with anticipation. Wild, however, kept his shield on his back.

 What was he doing? Legend understood the game correctly, right?

 “Three… two… one!”

 Legend leaned forward and felt his stomach lurch as the shield tipped down the hill. He picked up speed fast, and he trembled as he tried to maintain balance. The shield rattled beneath him as it hit small stones and twigs, and he threw his hands out for balance. To his immediate left he saw Wild leap into the air and somersault before throwing his shield under his feet. Then he leaned forward and shot ahead.

 “Hey!” Legend yelled. Oh, he was not losing that easily!

 “See you at the bottom, Vet!” Warriors shouted from his right as he leaned away from him to dodge a boulder.

 Legend gritted his teeth. He was not going to be last. He hadn’t seen Sky yet, so at least that was something.

 The shield jerked under his feet, and he yelped, wobbling wildly and flapping his arms in an attempt to resituate himself. Doing so slowed his descent, which at least gave him the chance to reorient. In the process, Sky blazed by, completely at ease on his shield.

 “Get back here, bird brain!” Legend bellowed, bending his knees and tipping forward as he willed himself to go faster.

 Like hell was he coming in last, blast it!!

 He accelerated quickly, and suddenly the cold wind was stinging his cheeks as his surroundings turned into a blur. He could see Sky just ahead, easily dodging a tree stump. He could see Warriors wobble and yelp as he almost fell off his shield. Wild was nowhere in sight.

 Legend growled. He would get ahead. Narrowing his eyes, he lowered himself even more so his center of gravity was closer to the ground. As he did so, Warriors, who was just ahead on his right, wobbled too dangerously and his shield flew out from right underneath him. The captain went flying, landing on his back and rolling a ways down the mountain.

 “Sucks to be you!” Legend yelled in delight as he passed him.

 The trail, surprisingly, was pretty easy to spot. Legend simply had to avoid boulders and stay away from trees. He felt his adrenaline surge through him, giving him a rush like adventuring always did. This was admittedly quite fun if it weren’t for the anxiety of not knowing what came next.

 The mountain suddenly seemed to lose its gentle slope, and the grading of the hill sharply increased. Legend’s speed nearly doubled, and his joy started to shift to terror as he felt almost out of control.

 Legend yelled, the shield practically vibrating under him from the speed at which he was going, and a small rock was enough to launch him into the air. While in mid flight he could see the bottom of the mountain where Wild and Sky were standing, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as his body finished its little arch and started to descend from the heavens. The ground became uncomfortably closer, and then—

 Splat.

 Legend landed flat on his face, groaning as the air was knocked right out of him (at least the packed leaves softened the blow) and slid on his face all the way to the bottom. He moaned when he stopped, not bothering to get up.

 “Veteran’s in third place!” Wild whooped excitedly from somewhere ahead of him. “I think the captain got wiped out.”

 Legend heard leaves crunch by his ear as Sky knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

 Legend grumbled into the leaves. He was fine, but his pride sure as hell wasn’t. He wasn’t going to get up. He refused.

 “Wasn’t that fun?” Wild asked, seeming to understand that Legend wasn’t injured.

 Sky’s hand settled on Legend’s back, and the knight laughed. “Yeah, it was. I need to find a way to go faster, though, that definitely wasn’t enough speed.”

 “Wasn’t bad for your first go, honestly! I wiped out the first time I tried it.”

 “Okay, but I need tips, how do I go as fast as you?”

 “It’s all in how you—”

 Legend grumbled again, ignoring the excitable chatter between the two. He heard crunching leaves behind him and the captain’s baritone said, “Well, that was interesting. I see I wasn’t the only one who had an exciting landing.”

 “I’m glad you two are okay,” Sky said before adding, “Let’s go again!”

 “YES!” Wild yipped in delight.

 Legend finally lifted his face, spitting out leaves. “Great. This’ll be fun.”

 He really should have put his foot down after that first round. Instead, he and the captain trudged up after the other two, who were cackling like excitable cuccoos. As they lined up again, Legend smirked at Warriors.

 “Maybe you’ll actually get to the bottom this time.”

 Warriors stiffened, annoyed. “Yeah, and I won’t do it on my face.”

 Legend crossed his arms. “I still finished the race. You’re just a sore loser.”

 “Ready guys?”

 The two glared challengingly at each other and nodded for the champion.

 Round two went better. Legend knew what to expect this time, and he could plan accordingly. What he didn’t plan for, however, was Warriors hovering close to him.

 “What are you doing?!” he yelled over the wind.

 “You’re hogging the smoothest part of the track!” Warriors shouted back.

 “You jerk, get to your own part of the track!”

 “There isn’t a set path for any one of us!”

 “Maybe you should just be better at this so you don’t wipe out!”

 “Maybe you shouldn’t hog the smoothest trail!”

 He really shouldn’t have taken his eyes off the trail.

 Legend’s shield abruptly stopped moving while his body continued, and he realized only too late that he’d smacked right into a tree root. His body lurched once more, and he finally decided that yes, this was the last round.

 Particularly when he landed foot first and his ankle rolled.

 Yelling out, his body fell sideways and he tumbled briefly before clawing into the ground in an attempt to slow his descent. He finally stilled, but he heard Warriors’ own shield quickly coming closer. Looking up in horror, he saw the captain heading straight for him while desperately wiggling his arms in an attempt to avoid hitting him.

 When it became apparent that Warriors did not have enough control over his shield to properly dodge, he instead jerked his body hard to the left, shooting the shield into the air for some undetermined distance and letting him land on his hip and tumbled immediately in front of the veteran.

 Warriors slid to a halt, lightly bouncing against the veteran, and groaned.

 Blowing out a breath of relief, Legend laid back on the ground, trying to ignore the throbbing in his ankle.

 “You alright?” the captain asked breathlessly.

 Legend bit his lip, debating, and then admitted it. “Pretty sure I just twisted my ankle.”

 Warriors grunted as he sat up, brushing dirt and leaves off himself. “Well, at least it isn’t worse.”

 Legend huffed, about to protest that it was actually pretty awful, thank you very much, ankles were so temperamental it was oftentimes easier to break a bone than deal with a sprained ankle.

 Instead of saying any of this, though, he yelped as Warriors pulled him onto his back and held him there by supporting him under the legs.

 “Put me down!” Legend immediately protested at being carried piggyback style. “I’m not a kid!”

 “You want to walk on it?”

 Silence.

 “That’s what I thought.”

 It was quiet as Warriors carefully made his way down the mountain. The more he struggled with his footing, the worse Legend felt. He knew he was useless right now, and he hated it. Maybe he could just slide the rest of the way down the mountain, but he doubted it would end well. He just had to be dependent on the captain. He hated being dependent on anyone, but after the last incident with Twilight… he was learning to grow less hostile about it.

 Legend sighed, grabbing his wrist with his other hand and creating a loose hold around Warriors’ neck. “Thanks.”

 Warriors hummed, and the veteran could hear his smile in his tone. “Of course.”

 He felt his heart grow warm, and he poked the captain in the chest with his thumb. “If I hadn’t crashed I would have totally beaten you.”

 Warriors laughed. “You keep telling yourself that.”

 When the two reached the bottom, Sky and Wild both immediately approached. “What happened?”

 “Just a twisted ankle, nothing too serious,” the captain explained. “But I think the two of us are done with shield surfing for the day.”

 Wild immediately looked guilty, and Legend rolled his eyes. “Quit your stupid blaming and go for another round, I know you two are dying to.”

 They hesitated, glancing at each other, when the captain gave them the permission they were looking for. “We still have a bit of daylight yet. Go on. One more round.”

 Their faces brightened, and Wild grabbed Sky by the wrist, saying, “Okay, so since you still want to go faster, I have great idea, I’ll just use the stasis rune and you’ll be having the time of your life!”

 Wild and Sky’s happy laughs and enthusiastic words dissipated after a time, and the two sat at the bottom awaiting their return. Warriors gently settled Legend on the ground against a tree and out of the way for when they returned.

 Patting Legend on the shoulder, he said, “Well, I guess we’ll just wait. It doesn’t take long to climb back up there, I think.”

 “Yeah,” Legend agreed and then the two sat there awkwardly.

 Great. This was going to be fun. He knew the quiet wouldn’t last long; Warriors was among the chattiest of the group.

 As if on cue, Warriors questioned, “You think we have more monsters to track in this area? We haven’t found a portal, after all.”

 Legend sighed. “I doubt the Shadow would make it that easy for us, so probably.”

 Warriors hummed, leaning back and cupping the back of his head with his hands as he settled against a tree beside Legend. “You do fight well, you know.”

 Legend raised an eyebrow at him. “Hm?”

 “Our sparring from earlier. You’re a great warrior.”

 “I know that.”

Warriors laughed. “You’re almost as bad as me, you know.”

 Legend smirked. “Nah, I don’t come close to your arrogance, oh mighty Captain.”

 “If you say so, Mr. My-Nickname-Will-Remind-Everyone-That-I’m-Clearly-Good-at-This.”

 Legend choked on his spit, spluttering and coughing. “Why you little—!”

 “Easy there, I wouldn’t try to fight me now, you’ll be hopping all over the place. I don’t think I’ll be able to take it seriously.”

 Legend rolled his eyes. “I’d probably still kick your ass.”

 Warriors barked out another laugh, filled with joy. “You know, with your items you just might!”

 With a smile cutting through the scowl he’d previously had, Legend chuckled and sighed, relaxing.

 This adventure was definitely interesting and unpredictable, but he could live with that. He may not know what tomorrow would bring, but at least he knew he had his brothers at his side.

 It was actually kind of… nice.

 “WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 The peace of the moment shattered as both Legend and Warriors looked around wildly before glancing upward, following the sound. A small speck of a person was flying at a velocity Legend couldn’t even fathom, and the speck quickly vanished into the tree line.

 “What the f—”

 Wild abruptly slid into the clearing, his face flushed and mildly panicked. “Guys!”

 Warriors and Legend both looked at him at the same time, immediately knowing.

 “What. Did. You. Do.”

 Wild laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

 Legend groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. Okay, sometimes it was nice. Other times…

 Oh, who was he kidding? He enjoyed it, chaos and all.

[ms0milk]

<<< part one

... where the brook is deep

| Sanemi x reader

a/n: welcome back to wind tsuguko/hashira brainrot– hoooooly fuck this got long. it is also a prequel, not a direct continuation, so i do hope you enjoy <3

this one’s a bit sadder than part 1 but no fear! part 3 is coming and it’s soul soothing smut

warnings: a few pretty gruesome wounds

wc: 3.8k

Completing the mission wasn’t your main concern considering Sanemi would never lose a fight to a demon. Getting him home with two arms and a head was what you were really worried about. That and burying the dead. You couldn’t even afford to worry about his legs; as long as he could swing a sword he would surely remain a demon mincing menace.

“Sanemi!”

You willed your legs to move faster with the promise of a hot bath, a day off, fucking surviving– anything. Whichever they picked you promised to deliver as long as they kept you upright long enough to find your teammate.

“M’lady!” A member of the kakushi poked her head out from between the stalks of bamboo and shook it as you ran past. They still hadn’t found him. The kakushi arrived to aid in the cleanup, right as Sanemi plowed the largest of the demon horde down the side of a mountain. With their strongest fighter down, the weaker demons failed to escape you.

A brand new village was being built in these mountains before the horde attacked. A village of families, biological and adopted, all of whom had survived demonic attacks before, staving off displacement and seeking refuge together. A village of survivors murdered in one night.

“Sanemi!” You shouted again, “Master Shinazugawa!” He sometimes liked to hear that name you called him when the two of you were first introduced. Before you became his Tsuguko and were allowed a bit more familiarity. Whipping down the mountain and stumbling on bamboo sprouts, you imagined him calling your name back to you.

I’m okay! Y/n, I’m here.

Like he would ever be so sweet– that would be the fucking day.

The leader of the horde took a swipe at your legs before Sanemi cut him back, and the sinister swelling in your knee was going to start slowing you down if you didn’t find him soon. Sweet or not, you couldn’t leave him. Two swordsmen were sent on this mission and so help you god, two swordsmen were going to come out. Even if one of them had to beat the everloving shit out of the other on their way home.

Three more kakushi, the smell of blood, and a faint rumbling pointed you in the direction of the Wind Hashira. You bounded over the disintegrating corpse of a demon and groaned; obviously you’d already been here. The race downhill had your thighs nearing jelly and your corps uniform reaching critical levels of sweat. Alive and relatively uninjured. Sleepy and stinky.

“Come on!”

You weren’t the one who said that. The last live demon you saw was at least fifteen minutes ago and the last kakushi on the trail was half a mile up.

“What? Now ya’ don’t have anything to say?”

You knew his voice like you knew your own name.

In a clearing under a rock ledge, a ledge at the end of a splintered bamboo path, was the Wind Hashira. Half his haori was missing, dripping red– he was soaked in blood– but the demon was what stopped you from calling out ‘Sanemi!’ from your hiding spot above their battlefield. You crouched in the shadows to avoid being a distraction to your mentor, but what the fuck was he doing?

The demon had four gruesomely long claws on each hand, which gave the two of you trouble when you first arrived on scene. Two of those claws were now knuckle deep in Sanemi’s shoulder, and turned away from you, you could see a few centimeters sticking clear out of his back. You bit the inside of your cheeks and gripped your sword.

“I’ll kill her,” The demon groaned lifelessly as Sanemi forced it against the wall of the rocky outcrop. Every time the Hashira stepped closer the claws pierced him deeper, like he was on a suicide mission to reach his opponent at the end of their sword, “she killed them all– all my puppets–”

“She did what I told her, and now so will you,” Sanemi growled, in pain presumably, as he pressed forward into the chest of the wilting demon. The two of them were of the same build and from your spot behind the bamboo it looked like Sanemi was hunting his own shadow. The demon watched in terror the Hashira drew his shoulders high. He aimed mercifully for the throat, but his shadow drew the claws back into his hand and lurched out of the way of the swing. Before the sword came down you locked eyes with the creature over Sanemi’s shoulder and tried not to be moved by the terror looking back at you.

“I told you to die,” Sanemi hissed. The Hashira surged towards the demon and his blood sprayed the bamboo in zigzags. You were out of time to worry about the lecture you would get for interrupting his fight; the wounds in Sanemi’s shoulder were deep and weeping. He didn’t care.

“I don’t want to hunt Hashira! I want to be free wi–with my children!”

Sanemi wasn’t trying to avoid attacks. Was he even trying to end the fight anymore? A heavy slash to the side of his head– was his ear still attached? Two more stabbing blows– one through his calf and the other not quite slicing the fingers behind his tsuba.

“Plenty of freedom in hell!” Sanemi roared in the windup to the fifth wind breath technique.

Why wasn’t he guarding?

The demon was up again, this time shrieking in agony, “I’ll see you there!” It was a wonder you didn’t find the two of them sooner. They were screaming like the volume of it all would decide the fight.

The demon, you thought had long-given up on regenerating, grew an arm back with the sound of a wet slap and grasped Sanemi around the neck with those long dragging limbs. The Hashira couldn’t angle his sword to the enemy’s throat with its arms acting like a cage around them and so with no other options, Sanemi dug his toes into the ground and seized forward. The sides of his neck tore deeply enough for the blood to run in streams, and now both the pillar and his opponent were dizzy from fatigue.

Why wasn’t he guarding?

You ran all the way here. You broke your fucking knees for him. The kakushi were risking their lives so that his fight would be easier. The people on the edge of this forest lost their lives because you weren’t fast enough to reach their village and now Sanemi was too lazy to protect himself? Why wasn’t he guarding!?

Then there was a bubbling, and a sudden sickening lack of screams.

You hated him.

“Shinazugawa!”

And you were so worried about him.

“Sanemi!”

Didn’t he know?

In his rush forward, the demon skewered Sanemi on one long, waiting finger. Blood gurgled up from the pillar's throat and out from the wound in his stomach. The men looked at each other, both shadows now in the moments before sunrise, and then Sanemi was looking at you.

You exploded from your spot on the ledge above the battleground and swept the demon’s head off from behind. It’s body crumbled to dust in seconds. Like it was sick of fighting. Later Sanemi would tell you that it looked relieved when it finally hurt him badly enough to coax you out of your hiding spot.

Later he would tell you so many things, but right now Sanemi was dying.

“Don’t speak..to me so..casually.”

You sheathed your sword in time to catch him. It took both hands, but he only staggered forward a bit and then hummed in dissatisfaction when your palms supported his shoulders. Nearly a year working together and you’d only graduated to ‘upset for saving his life’ from ‘sometimes trying to kill you.’

“Shit Sanemi, what’s wrong with you?!”

“Thanks”

He didn’t mean to fall against you as heavily as he did and murmured something else sarcastic and inaudible as he dragged himself away from your chest.

“You’re too reckless!”

He groaned and dragged himself away from your worried hands too. You pressed your palms against either side of his neck– ignoring the urge to wring it– gasping at the blood trickling through your fingers. Had you ever seen him this injured? Sanemi’s uniform didn’t have a speck of white left on it. His normally bright eyes were dim and glassy. He swayed where he stood and for a few seconds you thought he might reach out for you to steady himself.

“Finish…Y/n..the mission.”

Why were you so angry with him?

“You Sanemi! You’re the mission, lay down!”

Up close his other injuries were no less concerning; broken ribs, the wound in his calf, shoulder and gut, an unchecked god complex, a black eye, what looked like six broken fingers, the hangnail you’d been trying to convince him to wrap up for six days, and what could only be the sound of a punctured lung. He grumbled some more while swatting away your frantic attempts to check on his stomach. With one hand over the wound, he breathed deeply. You tore the hem off your haori anyway.

“Your bedside manner–” he had to sit halfway through his thought rather than topple over sideways “–needs work.”

This was your nightmare. You followed him down with a fiery slew of curses to choke back. That and panic. In his focus to close the injury to his abdomen the blood from his shoulder sputtered down his back.

“Is–is it your head? Were you concussed? Is that why you couldn’t dodge? No no, don’t clos–”

Sanemi gave you a very clear fuck off nudge as he closed his eyes to concentrate. You pulled his wounded leg out straight and started to tie it off, but he kicked it out of your grip, “Get fucked.”

Watching his red haori glimmer with wet was going to make you sick.

“Sanemi–”

“Watch it.”

He looked like a jackass, swaying and shaking where he sat. But your anxiety didn’t subside just because he was still conscious. You knelt, simultaneously reaching out to hold him and wrenching your grasp away from him. He was a magnet to you and he most certainly did not want to touch.

“Why the fuck did you take all those blows?”

“Watch your tone.” He looked angry enough to kill. If his eyes were open they’d probably be bleeding from rage.

You took a calming breath and fixed yourself in front of him, clutching at your own thighs to soothe the instinct to tend his wounds, “Is there bleeding you can’t stop, sir? Anywhere? I can ban–”

“Leave m–”

“The bleeding, Sanemi.”

With his free hand he shoved you suddenly and harder than you thought he had the strength for. One firm hand to your chest. You fell backwards awkwardly on your injured knee and buckled with nothing to grab, onto the ground squarely a few paces away. At a loss for words, you stared at him.

He neither noticed nor looked the least bit sorry, instead just grumbled, “I told you to watch your tone, Tsuguko.” And kept his eyes shut in concentration.

Why were you so angry with him?

“I’m not your Tsuguko,” you spat.

He winced, although probably from internal bleeding.

He got stabbed once a week, why were you so upset? Why didn’t he guard? It wasn’t worth it. You stood gingerly, and it should have been to leave. Two Hashira bleeding quietly in a bloodstained clearing. Two demon slayers and no demons left to fight by the sunrise. One swordsman losing hope. You gazed past Sanemi, eyes shut and clutching the ground, and through the cold bamboo.

That’s right. Sanemi was very nearly lost in his focus. The claw that pierced him was thin and caused little damage, but all your fussing distracted him. How’d I forget?

The Spring Hashira.

You were being promoted, after only a year. It sounded silly when you told him your new breathing technique, and in fact he knocked you over the back of the head with your training bokken the day you decided on the name. Another month with his Tsuguko before the decision was finalized and you became a pillar. Not even a Tsuguko. Only a month. What a fucking headache you were.

You rustled above him after your breathing leveled out. He listened for your fading footsteps so he could finally bleed out in peace.

Why then, the vicious silence?

He pried open his eyes to look up and– oh jesus christ– it almost startled him how pained you must have been to be making such a face. You hadn’t left at all– how’d you get so close? All twisted. Your eyes bore down into him behind the shadow of the sunrise. Your nose scrunched up all the way to the crease between your eyes and your stance was anything but pillar-like; you could very well have been a child in a tantrum. Your fists wired tight and trembling beside you, and your haori looked ridiculous all torn to bits from making bandages. Why did you favor one leg like that? Were you injured? Why weren’t you bandaging yourself? He could have made fun of you for the immaturity of your silence if it wasn’t for the fat tears that started dripping off your cheeks. Drip after drip, like a feral fucking faucet. You were terrifying to him then. Spring truly was the season of rage.

So there he sat, dumbfounded and surely dying, and there you stood silently shaking from anger above him. So angry you were crying. He wasn’t worth it. He wanted to say something. Probably thank you– he should probably thank you,

“What happened to that loud fucking mouth of yours?”

You turned, silently, so that your sword made a dramatic click against your hip, and then limped back to the ledge above the blood spattered outcrop. Back up to the path, to the kakushi probably, back to finish the mission. If that’s all it took to make you leave this whole time he would have told you what a dumbass you were from the beginning. No lingering glances, no smart retorts. No more too-sparkly tears.

When did he stand up?

He was watching you leave like he wanted you to, so why the gnashed teeth? His gnashed teeth.

Sanemi slowly straightened to his full height with the help of a bamboo stalk and gently leaned over to collect his sword. He couldn’t lift his arm high enough to sheath it. He braced his thighs when the dizziness threatened to knock him over. Where did all your worry go? As you felt around for a foothold back up to the path Sanemi felt around his torso to make sure the worst of bleeding had stopped. He did not like your silence.

“M’lady, your hand please.” A member of the kakushi appeared through the thick green, a little stroke of black, and offered you their arm to grab onto from above. “Master Shinazugawa is injured, does he need a medic?”

“He doesn’t need help.”

Fuming for some reason or another at your change in tone, Sanemi stumbled towards the path as well. Towards you. Where’d all that concern vanish to so quick? “Careful Y/n, someone might think you’re worried about me.”

That was absolutely enough. Enough already.

You dropped from the kakushi’s grip back into the clearing and drove your sword across Sanemi’s bloodied chest. It was easy enough to thumb your blade free of its scabbard and with the built momentum you spun and shattered Sanemi’s personal space. He barely brought his sword up quickly enough to block your slash.

What, so now he was guarding? It was all you could do to stop yourself from lopping off his head.

“What the fuck!?” He’d been caught by surprise. You drove your blade harder against his until your hilts were so close your hands could touch, “Oi! Enough!”

“Oh, so you’re not a pincushion!”

The kakushi winced from the path above.

“Desist, you dramatic piece of shit!”

“I could say the same!” You hollered back. Your face was too close to his for the volume of your voice not to ring in his ears.

With his injuries there was a chance you could win in a battle of strength, but injured or not, when it came to speed you always had him beat. You raised your sword for a split second and batted him with another swing– from above this time. The single second of impact affected his balance enough to press him back.

“Go on then! Take the blow!”

“Y/n!”

You sidestepped slightly so that in his fatigue, Sanemi would fall forward from the lack of pushback. When he staggered you laced your feet between his legs and kicked your uninjured knee straight up to knocked him over, but he wasn’t going to fall without you. You wanted a fight? Fine.

Sanemi flipped the grip he had on his sword so the blade pointed away from your faces and grabbed the front of your uniform with his free hand. His back hit the ground. As you moved to catch yourself Sanemi pulled you close with a tug and then launched you backwards over his head with a foot to your chest. As beat as you could have had him, your speed was sloppy from exhaustion. You didn’t want to fight.

Thud.

He growled on his back when blood started to weep from his shoulder again and focused all the strength he had into keeping his stomach injury from opening up too. You knew better than to cause him so much strain. You knew better than this.

“I’ll kill you before any demon gets the chance.”

You laid on the ground too, heaving where you landed after he tossed you. You were head-to-head. His hair brushed your own with every shaking breath he took and you both stared up at the sky. “Fucking prove it then.”

Holy shit, he could have killed you. If he wasn’t on the brink of death he would’ve broken both your fucking arms. Kicked you down the mountain til there weren’t anymore of your ribs to crack. He– he would’ve– he would’ve kissed you, probably.

Together you laid on the shadowy forest floor, panting. Three days of sleepless travel and somehow the only thing slowing Sanemi down were his life-threatening wounds. You weren’t sure how anyone could adjust to such a demonic sleep schedule and in your first moment of still all week, you realized you might not even have the strength to sit up.

“People are risking their lives for you, Hashira.” You kicked your heel weekly against the ground in frustration.

“The kakushi are doing their job. We’re doing ou–”

“I did our job. You tried to kill yourself.”

“You tried to kill me.”

You thought about lifting your hand over your head and striking him again. With a rock maybe. “That demon was elusive, not powerful. Why did you let it hurt you so badly?”

Sanemi grunted at that and crushed a fistful of dirt, “The sun was going to rise you dolt.”

“You were going to die.”

“Not before him.”

Not before him.

It felt silly to argue up at the sky like this.

Sanemi whispered the next part

“They’re dead, Y/n. The entire village.”

And you finally realized what was wrong.

You scooted up towards him so that the tops of your heads tapped together. The sunrise didn’t even reach deep enough to warm the clearing. It never would have shone brightly enough to kill a demon. Every stalk of bamboo gave you splinters. This forest was hellish and there were still so many graves to dig.

“Sanemi, you can’t save everyone.”

“Those civilians didn’t have a job, Y/n. They didn’t die for a cause.”

You blinked into the warming morning.

He sighed, “We just–”

Oh, Sanemi.

“– weren’t fast enough,” you murmured a finish to his thought and raised your arm over your head. He didn’t move. Your fingers found his hair, then his cheek, and you cupped your hand there. He didn’t mind; you were like a magnet to him.

He wanted to devour you. You thumbed the tip of his ear.

“No more moping, Sanemi. We have souls to send off.”

He was sitting up before you realized his face was no longer warm against your palm. Wet against your palm. Was it from blood or tears? You didn’t check your fingertips.

He leaned over you on his knees and you rubbed your eyes with both hands, partly in preparation to stand, mostly to hide from him. Just for a second, and then you’d be okay.

“You and me, Y/n.”

“You and me, what? Digging graves? Yeah, you, me, half a million kakushi– who the fuck else is gonna do it?”

It was a good thing your eyes were still closed because the relief Sanemi felt at your sarcasm threatened to make his tears overflow. You could hear the smile in his voice. If you weren’t hiding your face, you knew you’d take one look at his soft expression and start to sob.

“You and me are gonna make it.”

The kakushi soldier quickly shook the boredom from his eyes when he saw you two limping towards the ledge. “M’lady, are you ready?”

Sanemi wished he could have helped you up. He wished he could have at least lifted his arms above his head to support you and save everyone some time especially considering how dumb you looked wincing and wiggling in the air.

But then there was another kakushi, and another. They called to each other. They loved you, they always liked you more than him. One took you under the arm, the next locked her arms around your waist, until your hips cleared the rockface and you were pulled out of sight. Another woman snatched your nichirin swords before they tumbled from under your arm and back down into the cold, shadowed clearing.

Okay. You were okay. Now how was he going to–

“Sir, your hand.”

Sanemi was startled by the voice. A swarm of kakushi loomed on the sunbathed ledge above. Every one of them was armed with bandages and tinctures, a few even offering up ribbons of their own uniform to the medics waiting for him.

Oh.

Arm after arm reached down to pull him into honeyed safety and then your bloody hands bloomed out of the crowd as well. Your’s was the only uncovered face in the glow of sunrise and it was smiling at him. He blinked the tears from his eyes.

“C’mon Nems.”

part three >>> coming soon

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Rain/GNreader

I read a fanfic recently about Rain hanging out in the rain, and I loved that idea so it inspired me to write this. Its been up on Ao3 for a while now but i’ve wanted to post it here for ages so here.

Warnings: Nudity, but no smut.

Under the cut because shes loooong <3

Rain is happiest when its raining, so he shares his love for it with you.

You guys have a tent, out in a small clearing deep in the woods on the church grounds. Most times you, Mountain, Swiss, Rain, Dew and Aether will all go out there together and spend a few nights surrounded by nothing but nature. The clearing itself has been enchanted so any humans who live in the church don't accidentally stumble across it, and it allows the ghouls to be outside and have the freedom to take their masks off without being worried about being seen. You all like to use this little ‘getaway’ as a way to wind down after a long tour. Yes their beds are nice but out here, it feels like they can breathe a little deeper, they can appreciate the life around them a little better and they also like to make a large nest in the tent. When you know that you're all going to be out there for at least a few days, you all like to bring the softest and warmest blankets and pillows, arrange them into a nest like shape and then snuggle together right in the middle of it. It's kind of become a tradition for the lot of you. Sometimes the ghoulettes will join you or sometimes only two or three of you will go. Fast forward to now. You're lying comfortably inside the tent, in the smaller than usual nest that's been made for you. The entrance of the tent is open and pulled back to allow for a wide opening. Rain falls softly from the sky this particular evening, you listen to it patter on the material of the tent above you, and you gaze out to focus on the beautiful scene in front of you. Rain. He's stripped down to nothing, standing out in the downfall. He occupies himself by seeking out any snails that may be soaking on a rock, or by catching any small frogs that have come out to enjoy the moisture much like he has. His tail waves around happily behind him. You could sit right here, watching your beloved ghoul in his happiest place forever and never get bored. The way the raindrops roll off his skin, the way he converses with whatever creature crosses his path, the way his tail stills with concentration has he gently releases any frogs he had the luck of catching. He is beautiful. Utterly beautiful. He turns to look at you, you know he can feel you staring. He tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy when you don't look away from him. He starts to walk over to you, stepping in small puddles along the way. When he gets to your temporary home for the night he squats down to be more at your level. His eyes run over your form, snuggled comfortably in the nest he made for you, if he wasn't soaked to the bone right now you best believe he would waste no time crawling in right next to you, scooping you up into his arms and pressing his warm body as close to yours as he possibly could. He meets your eyes again only to see that you have yet to look away from him. He can feel himself become a little shy with your staring.

“You're so pretty” you whisper out,

This catches Rain a little off guard and you can see some pink burn through the ashen grey tone of his unglamoured skin.

“Come be pretty with me”

You raise an eyebrow at him, when he doesn't falter you realise he's being serious.

“But i'll get cold, I don't have special powers that keep me warm”

“You know i'll keep you warm”

Hm, okay he got you there.

“But my clothes will get all wet, I forgot to pack a second shirt before we left”

You didn't forget. But even if you did, you both know that Rain has indeed brought enough clothes for the both of you. Just incase.

“I didn't say anything about you wearing your clothes out here.”

Oh? Oh. oh okay, you see now.

For the first time in a while, you rip your eyes away from Rain. It still gives you butterflies how he can go from sweet, innocent, loveable Rain to just straight up freaky in seconds. You know he wouldn't pressure you into doing this if you genuinely didn't want to, but you also know that you very much want to. He also finds alot of happiness when he hangs out in the rain, and for him to want to share something with you that is important to him, means alot to you and you'd be a fool to turn him down. With a playful sigh you meet his gaze once more, and he knows just by seeing the look on your face that he's got you. He leans a little further into the tent to push his wet face against yours in an affectionate way, sealing your lips with his in a little kiss. When you both pull away he plants his cute little tush right on the grass in front of the tent. And he sits. And he waits. And he watches you just like you were watching him earlier. You strip down piece by piece, the cold bite of the air flowing through the tent nips at your exposed skin, yet even as you silently undress in what may be the most unflattering positioning to get undressed in, Rain still watches you. Call him a ghoul in love. It really couldn't matter where you are, or what position you're in. He is always absolutely captivated. Your body has never failed to mesmerize him. He doesn't even realise you've finished undressing until you're nervously calling his name to grab his attention. He sheepishly grins at you, his pearly fangs making their appearance. You step closer to the open part of the tent and peek out, nobody is here, it's just you and Rain, and if you don't want to be out there for too long you know he will take you both back to the tent. As you slowly step out, Rain grabs your hand to keep you steady. Then by the time both of your feet are planted on the soggy grass Rain has pulled you into him. He walks you both further into the clearing, the rain is now dribbling down your skin, adding to the cold chill that runs through your body. So you nuzzle even further into his body, the warmth he radiates seeps into you. He can feel your uncertainty, this is a very new experience to you and he can't blame you for being a little stiff with nerves. So in an attempt to calm you, or at least distract your mind he begins to sway. Just enough to move both of your bodies into a state of relaxation. Once you both get into a good rhythm, he can feel you settle into him greatly. Your eyes are closed and your face is pressed into his body, so you can't see him. But he is definitely looking at you. The way you're pressed up against him, holding onto him like you’d float away without him. The way the rain that continues to fall has soaked into your hair and skin. The way that the little bit of light that brightens the clearing you're both in creates a glow that bounces off your skin. You make him weak in all the best ways. You sneak a peek up at him only to meet his stare, your cheeks heat a little when you realise he has in fact been staring at you the whole time. You give him a little smile and and somehow, in this very moment, with you wrapped around him like this, sharing something so close to his heart and still looking at him the way that makes him melt, he falls deeper in love with you. You feel it. You nod at him knowingly, and before he can even think he has leaned down to envelope your lips in a beautiful kiss. When he pulls away from you, you both just stand there, staring at each other like love drunk fools. Pure magic fills the space you're in. Surrounding you both in a forcefield of adoration. You continue to stand there like that until your puny human body betrays you and you start to shiver. You both know this means the end of your time in the rain, you're physically disappointed but Rain assures you it's not the end of your time together.

“We still have a nest waiting for us, I made it especially for us so it should be perfect to snuggle in” he whispers into the top of your head.

You know he won't let you stay out here any longer even if you begged him. He can feel the temperature of your body dropping as the minutes pass, but he knows he can warm you up real quick so he lets you enjoy the last fleeting moments before he pulls you into your tent. Avoiding the pile of blankets that are awaiting you, you both stand off to the side as Rain wraps you up in a towel, then wraps himself in one too.

“You brought towels?” you giggle slightly,

“I knew it was going to rain so I brought these just incase” he smiles down at you.

He's always so prepared. You both dry yourselves off and Rain hands you some of his warm clothes. Once you're both dressed he basically tackles you into your nest. He hands you some extra blankets and pillows to arrange to your liking while he closes up the tent. When he's finished securing you both in, he lays down next to you and throws more blankets over you both before he pulls you impossibly close to him.

“Rain i'm not gonna disappear” you mumble into his chest,

“I know but you're cold and I am very warm, you see how this is an issue?”

You laugh and push yourself deeper into his embrace, his strong arms are wrapped around you, trying to spread as much of his warmth as he can in a short amount of time. Yet even once he's brought your body temp back to normal you both stay stuck exactly where you are. You're dozing off, he can feel it. He is too but he can feel you fighting it.

“Stop fighting it baby, just go to sleep. I'm not going to let you go and I will be right here when you wake up.”

“But I don't want his to be over, if I go to sleep it'll be over so quick…” you just manage to get out in your half asleep state,

“We have all day tomorrow, we don't even have to get out of our nest if you don't want to”

At this point you're seconds away from falling into a deep deep slumber. So he uses the last few moments to kiss you softly on the forehead and mumble into your skin-

“I love you so much, thankyou for sharing this day with me”

He knows you heard him, but before you were able to answer you had fallen right to sleep, and not long after he did too. Snuggled together, as close as two beings could possibly get, safe and loved.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[h4ji]

─ I JUST NEED YOU

summary: you and kei get into an argument, reassurance is the only way to appease you both

warnings: car sex, oral, creampie and mention of reader having a vagina AND NOT PROOFREAD

requested: yes

wc: 1.8k

a/n: hope you enjoy! sorry if it wasn’t to expectation, was a little harder for me to write 

the bitter cold is ever so evident as goosebumps arise on your arm. the various gusts of wind biting at your arms and face. the dark and narrow path of the street made you feel lonely, like nothing before. the thin fleece of your clothing doing nothing to provide any warmth while tears well up in your eyes again as you remember the words your beloved tsukki spoke to you. tsukishima’s words replay in your head, surely he didn’t mean it…did he? 

tsukishima knew you feared you’d be too clingy, it was something you wished you could both avoid often, but you wish he’d open up to you, so it wouldn’t feel like being clingy would be the only way you’d get a reaction out of him. fighting was somewhat of a norm now and he never expressed his emotions to you no matter how much you cried and died inside. but you remember his icy stern glare biting at your shivering frame. “can’t you just leave me alone for one goddamn second” he snarks out, his eyes looking at you with pure anger, something that was new. 

your mind was frazzled and couldn’t come up with anything to say. until, “it doesn’t hurt to show some compassion, or any emotion at that other than anger tsukishima,’ you say bluntly. your fists balled up in desperation as you look at him. the shocked expression on his face says it all. would he retort? would he say something feisty back? what would this mean for your relationship?

your previous fights have never gone for this long and the loud silence started to become unbearable. his cold golden brown eyes stare into you, with no interest, and it makes you shiver. “showing emotion and vulnerability isn’t necessary y/n” he pauses, almost as of thinking, “the type of vulnerability you seek from me isn’t going to come, it makes people weak and-” he’s cut off by your loud sobs. “then what does that make me? some weakling because i show emotions? showing emotion doesn’t make you weak-” you ramble on, tsukishima doesn’t listen. it isn’t until you’re finished that he feels like he can breathe. “well, y/n, when your emotions get in the way of things so small like a relationship it becomes a hindrance. your constant need to be in contact with me and for affection is embarrassing”, he snarls out, his brows furrowed in… disgust? anger? frustration? you wouldn’t know. 

he couldn’t have meant the things he said… well if he blurted them out like that, they must have some truth? ironically enough, the sky gradually got darker while you were caught up in your thoughts. the faint prickle of the rain was felt on your skin, “well that’s just great,” you think, it just had to rain. you find refuge under the bus stop waiting area, contemplating whether you should call kei or not. 

little did you know, kei was frantically searching for you. driving around in the pouring rain trying to find you. something in the back of your mind tells you that kei is coming for you and not to leave, so you stay put. you were wondering what kei would say to you first, would he apologize? or would he just ignore the argument? would he make it up to you? your mind was going at 100 mph, you didn’t even notice your boyfriend’s car pull up in front of you. his body moves before his mind can comprehend anything, all he knows is that he needs you in his arms, safe and sound. his slim and long arms wrap around your cold frame. all you can feel is tsukki’s frame shaking against yours, it's almost as if he was….sobbing. was he badly shaken up by what had happened earlier? it didn’t seem like too much of a big deal. the constant shaking of his frame and the tight embrace he has you in, it makes you feel protected, but you also wanted to protect him. you’d never seen him this way, he was always the more emotionally unavailable one, he did have his moments though and this was one of them. 

phrases of “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it” were all you could hear from him. you couldn’t tell if drops of rain were hitting your back or if it was your lover’s tears, nonetheless you were happy to be back with him. 

he pulls you towards the vehicle, opening the door for you and persisting that you sit down. once you do, he shuts the door and jogs to the other side, sitting down in the driver's seat and inching his hand towards yours, which is resting in between you both. 

“i’ll be better, i promise” he starts off, “i’ll work on expressing myself more and-” you shut him up by placing your soft lips on his, tasting the salty tears that had poured down earlier. “We’ll be okay, we’ll work it out…together. “i just need you, right now” you blurt out after your lips are no longer touching. his cheeks flush as the words come out of your mouth, “r-right now? but-” he starts. “you can make it up to me this way, kei” you smile at him and who was he to not comply with your needs. your hand slowly moves its way upward, towards the zipper of his pants. his knuckles turn white because of the tight grip he has on the steering wheel. once his length was freed, the cold air hit it, making tsukki shiver in surprise. it was even more of a surprise when he felt your mouth wrap around him, warmth emitting from the space. 

it was getting hot, too hot. his hand finds its way to your head, resting it on top. and he was getting turned on even more, the fact that you could get caught, the fact that someone could see, that thrill was throwing him over the edge. the warmth of your throat encasing his cock, his tip hits the back of your throat, and that’s just enough to push him over. his cock twitches in your throat before you pull your mouth off. “cum on my face” you state, not demanding but not asking. his hand tugs on his hard cock, while you tongue his slit. “f-fuck, i’m close”, he groans out. 

both of you gasp as his thick and sticky cum hits your face, some of it gracefully landing into your mouth as well. the taste wasn’t too salty on your tongue, but you wouldn’t say it was sweet. out of instinct you swallow the cum that fell into your mouth, and at that lew sight, tsukki swears he could cum again, on the spot.

you sit back against the leather seat of the car, the heat ever so evident. then you feel kei’s cold and slender fingers find their way between your thighs. his fingers prodding and rubbing against your pussy. he finally inserts a digit, it reaches so far back, farther than your own fingers could ever reach. his thumb rubs gentle figure eights onto your clit. you almost forget for a second that you still have his cum stringed on your face, until kei’s free hand wipes at your face and pushes his cum soaked fingers into your mouth. you opt to suck and lap at the cum on his fingers. your moans are drowned out by the soft music that kei opted to play in the car, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his fingers in your mouth and on your clit. 

it doesn’t take long until tsukki finds your sweet spot, the spot that craves attention the more turned on you get. “f-fuck kei right there, right there. oh fuck, i’m gonna cum” you whine out as your legs lock, your hand wrapping around his wrist as you come all over his digits and he smirks as your cum leaks onto the expensive leather seats. “get into the backseat” he says bluntly and you comply, no questions asked. luckily the back wasn’t too cramped because kei also moves to the back, his arms holding your legs apart as his face sits between both of your thighs. “don’t be too loud, hmm” he grins before his tongue laps up at the remnants of your previous orgasm, sweet tasting on his taste buds. your hands weave into his hair, gripping on it as his tongue circles your clit before flicking the sensitive bud of nerves. “ngh, ah fuck, mmm” you whine out at the pleasure, gripping his golden locks even tighter as your thighs attempt to close in with no avail. the feeling of his wet tongue on you proves to be too much, you come all over his mouth and it leaks onto the plush fleece of the seat. 

just when you thought it was over, tsukki flips you over his body flush against yours as he rubs the tip of his cock against your folds. “just one more for me, mmkay? you’re so good for me, so you can handle this last orgasm. i just need you, all of you” he whispers against the skin of your shoulder before placing a small kiss as he inserts himself. the quiet moans and groans emitting from you both fill up the empty space of the hot car. “kei, please move-”, you beg, but your begging is cut off my kei’s thrusts into you. you feel so full, maybe it's the sensitivity to all touch, or maybe its the fact that kei indeed was a bit on the longer side. his cock feels like its hitting the end of your cervix, it stung a little but it felt so good. being filled to the brim by the person you love was an experience in itself.

it didn’t take you long to cum: the aroma around you, the heat, the overstimulation, constant sensitivity,  the sound of skin slapping, the wet kisses kei leaves on your shoulder and the knotting in your stomach tightening was all too much, you’d be pushed over the edge. but you didn’t only cum on his cock, no, that wasn’t enough for tsukki. he needed you to squirt on his cock, he needed to prove and show that you’d never be too much for him and that he’d always love you no matter what. his body is flush against yours as he makes no means to stop thrusting into you. the pleasure turning into slight pain, but good pain. before you even realized it, kei cums into you, which is enough to push you over the edge. as his cum leaks out of you, it's further pushed out by the new orgasm you have, gushing everywhere. 

kei is so satisfied to have you squirt on his cock, but he wasn’t happy that his cum was pushed out. he’d just have to fill you up again. but before he could plunge into you again, he realized it was best to go home, you’d both be more comfortable. “i just need you. As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay” he smiles before redressing in order to drive back to the comfort of your home.

[howdoyousleep3]

where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲

I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤

Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.

Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.

What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.

There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.

“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”

Anything for Bucky.

There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.

Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.

Steve thought that would take years.

Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.

“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”

“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”

They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.

What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.

Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.

Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.

It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.

And Steve waited.

And waited.

Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:

“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”

“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”

It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.

Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.

“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”

When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.

It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.

When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—

Bucky was going to kiss him.

A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.

That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—

Bucky remembered and wanted.

Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.

Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.

But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.

“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”

“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”

“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”

“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”

“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”

It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.

“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”

Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.

When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.

Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.

He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.

Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.

Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.

And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.

"I love you, Buck."

"Mhmm love you too, pal."

Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—

This is heaven.

[potter-imagines]

Getting Drunk With Fred Weasley

Prompt: getting drunk w/ your boyfriend Fred would include + mini blurbs

Warning: drinking, swearing, and some suggestive wording

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: n/a

Parties are not an uncommon event in the Gryffindor common room

Alcohol and drink mixtures of all sorts are being poured left and right every weekend

Most weekend you have a drink or two while catching up with your friends after a busy week of school

Other weekends you choose the path of getting plastered alongside your boyfriend off smuggled liquor and bottle of beer

On these night in particular, 

Fred does not let you out of his sight

At all

Unless of course Lee challenges him to a beer pong match then he’ll carefully usher you over the couch where he can keep an eye on you while he’s playing

Has to pause the match like 20 times to chase after you and lead you over to his side “Y/n! You know you can’t out drink Seamus- he’s Irish! C’mon, come watch me kick George and Lee’s ass. They’re so bad it takes two of them to even manage a winning shot yet somehow they still suck!”

Loves it when you cheer him on

Is constantly glancing over to reassure himself you haven’t run off again

Your distraction is heightened in this state

So he feels the need to be your second set of eyes

Which had come in handy many a times

Like when Ron dared you to touch the burning fire while he was wasted on dragon barrel brandy

“Don’t be a pussy, Y/n. Swipe your hand real fast and you won’t even feel a thing-” “Y/n, pull your hand away from that fire, love. Ron, what the fuck? Are you trying to set my girlfriend up in flames? Angel, Ron is an idiot, you know that, don’t do anything he says again.” “Hey!”

And the time when you all were playing strip poker and Fred quite literally threw himself on top of your body to cover your chest when George teased you to take your bra off and your hands reached back for the clasps

(( he bitched at George for five minutes straight for that suggestion ))

Fred knew you were not one to back down from a challenge, especially when drunk and not considering the consequences or regret that would follow

So he always made sure you never embarrassed yourself too much or did anything you’d be wanting to take back come morning

During any Gryffindor party, Fred is the life of it

When he’s not preoccupied fawning over you, he’s hopping around with George seeking out trouble

The man throws back liquor like its water

Claims he knows his limits, but he really doesn’t

He is a touchy drunk

Hands brushing through your hair as you chat on the couch

Arms wrapped around your shoulder as you laugh along with your friends

Fingers laced in yours whenever you’re near

He craves your touch even more so when the liquor taints his veins

Let’s be real, Fred is not exactly the type of boyfriend to try to get you to stop drinking

He still makes sure you’re safe and not over drinking but,

Most of the times,

He’s the one pouring the shots for you

And mixing the drinks

But he always knows when to stop, and when you’ve had enough to drink

He tries to mentally keep note of how many drinks you've had but loses track once he reaches about five on his own end

Sometimes he’ll silently swap out your glass of whiskey for a glass of pumpkin juice

It’s obvious to Fred that he made the right choice when he watched as you sipped gleefully on the juice, not making a single comment on the dramatic change in taste

In these moments he begins to prepare himself for a night of babysitting you

And he’s so sweet in helping you on the nights when you go an inch- or ten- overboard

Carries you up to your bed and helps you change out of your clothes and into new ones for bed

He gets you wipes to take of your makeup, if you’re wearing any, and he’ll sit you between his legs on your bed while he brushes through your hair

After you’re properly ready for bed, Fred makes sure to set a glass of water on your nightstand incase you get thirsty and a bag of crackers if you get hungry

Stays the night without question when you ask

Other times he stays regardless of if you do or don’t

Your roommates don’t mind seeing as he takes care of you meaning they don’t have to

He’ll lay on his back and usher you over to place you head on his chest

His fingertips will soothingly trail up and down you back, lulling you into a deep sleep with the rhythmic motion

Tries his best to make sure you fall asleep first

Drunk Fred really has no control over his sleep habits and has a tendency to pass out from sudden exhaustion at any moment

One second him and George are fucking around with partygoers, supply them with different products of theirs, and causing pure chaos

The next second Fred was snoozing away while he laid on the couch with his head in your lap

Then he was back up an going again

Like a toddler on a sugar high

He’s such a giggly drunk

Kisses to the tip of your nose

Always smiling over at you and complimenting you  

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” “Only ten times, but I’m okay with elven.” “Let’s make it twelve, you looks absolutely stunning- so pretty, and all mine.”

The boy can’t help it, you make him feel weightless with happiness sober and the feeling only intensifies when he’s been drinking

There are nights when Fred can’t seem to taste the scorching burn of the liquor anymore after about six shots and it these nights where George and yourself are left dragging him up the stairs

George will beg you to stay the night because he can’t handle Fred’s drunken rambling about how much he misses you

And you agree because, how could you say no to Fred’s adorable puppy dog eyes and grabby hands longing for you to cuddle with him

If you two are both drunk, you’ll stay up talking- or rather whispering- under his comforter

He’ll stumble over his words and jumps from topic to topic in the blink of an eye

Uncontrollable giggles as he whispers- or rather stutters- out the most confusing jokes you’ve ever heard

Like

“Angel, angel…” “Yes, Freddie?” “What happens when a toad’s car breaks down?” “I dunno…” “It gets froged!” “I’m sorry, come again? Isn’t it meant to be the frog’s car that breaks down and it gets ‘toad’...not ‘froged’?”

But he’s out like a light before you can get an explanation

He breathes like darth vader when he’s in his drunken slumber

Yet its somehow comforting in an odd way

Like it reminds you that he’s there holding you

And also that he’s still alive, which is surprising at times with the amount of drinks he consumes in one night

If you think Fred acts reckless sober, he thinks he’s invincible when he’s drunk which is even worse

He’ll agree to almost anything

If Ron were to tell him he bet Fred wouldn’t jump from the Astrology Tower all the way down to the courtyard? Fred would do it just in spite of him

The only time this attitude of his had gotten him into trouble was when Fred, George and Lee came up with the grand idea to go down the boy’s dormitory staircase on mattresses

Fred, being the brilliant man he is, decided to go first

You had been gossiping away in the common room to Hermione about a new Muggle actor the two of you had seen in a film when you heard the loud crashing, followed by the voice you loved so much groaning in agony

By the time you reached the opening to the stairwell, George and Lee were aiding Fred down the stone steps, carefully avoiding his ankle which had been twisted in an inhuman position

Madam Pomfrey surprisingly kept hum about Fred’s intoxication and instead scolded him for hours on end about his reckless, mindless choice to try to slide down, winding, steep, stone steps

Once news reached the professors the nest morning, McGoagall dismissed 40 points from Gryffindor for the incident

Using your mattress to surf down the twirling stairwell has since been prohibited

On a separate occasion Fred had accident lit the edge of the curtain on fire

You can always tell when he’s reached that level by the volume in his tone

It tends to get deeper the more intoxicated he becomes

And his words slowly slur together into a string of blabber

Mostly compliments, sweet words, and sometimes suggestive ones as well

Fred gets a bit more… forward when he’s got that liquid courage soaring through him

His hands will start to roam slowly from around your waist to your lower back, then resting on your bum

He gets turned on watching you play beer pong for some reason

Especially when you win

Maybe it’s the view he’s graced with when you bend to bounce the pin pong ball

Or the feistiness that arises when the match gets hot

It’s more than enticing for him

Fred can feel his frame get stiffer everytime you bend across the table to retrieve the cup and chug the beer from it

When the round has ceased and you’re declared champion yet again, Fred steps forward to pull you in for a hug

As he gives you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers, 

“Good girl! Now if you beat George again I’ll give you a special surprise later tonight, angel.”

Which makes your knees weak like jell-o as your frame pushes into his for support

It doesn’t help that you can feel just how excited he is through the denim of his jeans

Fred dips his head to plant a trail of wet, teasing kisses along the skin of your warm neck until George was groaning and pleading for you to start the match

You practically shook for the entirety of the game, still managing to sink almost every shot into a cup forcing George to drink for the majority of it

He ended up tapping out once you nailed the seventh cup in a row and kept your winning streak alive due to his need to find a trash can immediately

You stopped there to join Fred by his side as he smiled to you, clearly pleased that you won

“Looks like someone is getting rewarded tonight.”

His arm draped around your shoulder as you leaned into his side, your cheeks flaring from the mass of bodies but mostly from Fred’s suggestive promise

He only forced you to suffer through the party for another ten minutes or so before pouring one last shot for the both of you, then nearly pushing you up the winding stairs to his dorm

Lets just say he certainly fulfilled on his promise- more than once that night

Loves it when you sit in his lap when you’re on the couch together

Whispers dirty secrets into your ear

Drunk Fred leaves hickies under the clothes

He’s not the type to care who’s around, he’ll try to slide his hand up your skirt in front of nearly anyone when he’s inebriated

“Fred- you’re brother is sitting right there, stop it!” “Shhhh, angel. He’s not even watching, right George?” “Right, Fred.” “See?”

To which you glare dangerous at him as you place his hand back in his lap, but Fred continues to smirk in amusement

It’s like you’re a preschool teacher constantly having to tell a child to keep their hands to themselves, Fred just refuses to listen

Fred doesn’t necessarily get jealous of other guys

He trusts you and he’s confident enough in your relationship not to feel threatened by other guys

However he is possessive af over you when he’s been drinking

In a sweet way tho

Literally wants all your time and attention when he’s drunk

If you don’t feel like dancing, he’ll ask you to come watch him dance

When you say you need to use the bathroom, he’ll ask a million times if you want him to come with

If George places a bet against Fred in a game of cards, Fred will drag you over to sit next to him as Seamus shuffles the deck and prepares the table

He’ll show you his cards and tell you to pick one

Even though he knows you’re completely unaware of the rules to the game, he loves the smile of excitement that appears on your face when he lets you

And in the rare times that you do say no, he works his magic with those big doe eyes and pouty lip until you say yes

It brings him comfort when you’re by his side

Your nights end the same each day, wrapped in his arms listening to the relaxing thump of his heart as the two of you doze off, both silently dreading the awaiting hangover than would surely greet you first thing in the morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

hi hi~ it is I your friendly neighborhood vulture here to pick ur lovely brain ~

Ok ok so imagine slashers ( michael (ur choice of version) , asa , Billy and stu (poly) and Jesse) coming home after a long day just to tired to deal and either seeking out or allowing their s/o to comfort them ~ whether just headcanons or head cannons and ficlet I'll let u decide~

Hello my darling birdie!!! I'm so happy to see you here! Welcome to my garden hope you stay awhile just try not to pull to many flowers this time kay ^v^ And as my best vulture I did both! CW: Blood, murder in passing ,obsessives behavior ,Just the normal slasher stuff and slight NSFW, OOC slashers and Not beta read or edited

Michael the RZ version

It's been a long day first having to go shopping for the week then cleaning to get rid of all the stains still left behind meant you were tired it seemed however you weren't the only busy one. Michael had be gone since early morning a pat on the head was all you gotten before he headed out and now slightly past 1 he was back. The echo of his boot steps were purposeful as he shut the door the cling of his knife hitting the counter ever more audible before the creek of the stairs let you know what the "plan" was. It doesn't take long for him to reach the bedroom and unlike most nights where the two of you would lay down and enjoy bliss each others comfort this time it was clear another approach would have to be taken. Michael now stood at the doorway mask dyed red and breathing heavy, whatever happen was not the outcome he wanted so with slow careful steps you began step one.

Michael no matter what is not one to seek comfort or affection it is something you have to be will to initiate willing and be willing to go slow with

Bathing is a good way to make him feel relaxed and if he tired or having a bad day its what he want and its one of the few times he's quick to remove him make you touching his hair makes him very happy

After a nice bath he wants but wont say he wants cuddle's and the start of step two

Sit on his lap and just let him hold you in a soft voice talk about you day or plans for the week or just things you enjoy its a bit of domestic life that makes him warm

turn a movie on and stay close run you hands through his hair and just exists with him for a while now for the best part

Once he's calmed down two things could happen one is that he'll pull you both down to the bed curled up with you in his arms and the sound of a movie still playing in the background letting himself fully relax

Option two is less common but more enjoyable Michael will move both you and him to the table in the room covered in his craft supplies where hell being working on his paper mache mask, asking you for input or wanting you to join if you fall asleep that's fine he's more the content just having you there

Stu Matcher and Billy Loomis

Its not hard to tell when one of them is having a hard day. After a long day of classes and keeping up with everyone Billy was exhausted had told but you and Stu as much more then one and Stu wasn't much better it seemed. Any plans that had been made were canceled as you told your boys it would be a good day for a date in, some cheesy slasher flicks tons of snacks and ordering food was the new plan. Telling everyone good bye then heading back to your place the the boys are quick to make themselves at home Stu starts by ordering dinner for the three of you Billy picks out a few movies and you head to the kitchen to make the snacks. It about an hour before everything is fully ready and with the date night begins with Stu being the first to say he needs some affection after the long day. Though he doesn't say anything at first Billy is fast to act on said affection once its shown leaning over to ask for some love as well.

Its kinda hard to give them comfort together since they both need different things at first but give it some time and it tends to end with a cuddle pile

Stu prefers holding one to waist head on in your neck or on your tummy nuzzling and kiss you having you give him head pats and forehead kisses while also rubbing his back

Billy likes having you on his lap your back to his chest his head resting on yours or on your shoulder hand locked together around your waist just holding you

If they're both in need of affection and comfort its a mix of both with Stu's head on your stomach and Billy's on your shoulder Billy's holding one hand and his other is on you hip Stu is doing the same on the opposite side

Billy feeds you snacks you feed Stu and Stu throw snacks at Billy and changes the movie when needed

Cuddles last for a long time often time it end with you three falling asleep with you in the middle of the two of them

Its not hard to know when they need comfort along with the fact that Stu is open about needing it and Billy will follow his lead when he sees you dont mind

Jesse Cromeans

Jesses always enjoys having your attention even if its for something small however, when he's in need of comfort he prefers you not being around him not because he worried about things but because he's bad at asking for it so he tends to just lock him self up in work. With that its very easy to tell when he's have a bad day its getting close to him that's hard. It starts like any relaxing day a nice warm meal whether you make it yourself for him or order something he likes its a way for you to get close. Tried and angry from a day of work the only thing on Jesse's mind is getting home what he wasn't expecting was to come home to you having gotten the places cleaned up with a meal laid out in the living ready to spend time with him and well he just couldn't say no to that. Its not hard after that to get him to set work aside till tomorrow as long as its not super important and from there the rest of the night can begin.

Jesse really enjoys slow intimacy and when his days been bad and he needs to let go having you take the lead in a nice slow pace helps him let go of the chromeskull mindset whether you know about it or not

He likes to snuggle wrapped almost fully around you with you as close as possible

Kisses are a must they make him so happy many people find him scary with go reason but here you are the love of his giving him kisses as if this is a perfectly normal relationship

Like with Michael two things can happen after he relaxes and gets your affection and comfort however its based on how your feeling not him

If you keep with the soft lead it ends with you curled against his side feeding each other fresh fruit and chocolate watching movies and shows while he talks about dates he's hoping to take you on

The other option is that you head to the bedroom hell pull you on his chest arms wrapped around you hearing you talk about this and that while just ignoring the world till he falls asleep

The next day Jesse will take off work after days of needing to seek your comfort it make him acknowledge he needs a break to not burn out or not to move to fast in the work and the day will be spent with you by his side

Asa Emory

Asa has always gone by a schedule and unless it is absolutely necessary he will not deviate from it and that includes for affection and goes double for if you want to give him comfort on exhausting days. He doesn't like feeling weak and though he loves you in a twisted way you thinking he needs comfort makes him feel weak. For weeks Asa will come home tired and frustrated his class is in the mist of exams so he has tons of work and the collection isn't going well but he wont let you in on it. The best you can do for the time being is just lightly his work load at home keep things clean, make meals for him so he doesn't skip them if the dogs are at the house help take care of them and things like that its not much but he pays attention to things like that and will notice that your helping him. Seeing you working hard to help him not stress as much while still waiting for him to take the steps like usual helps him come around to the idea of letting you spoil him for a while. Once he gets to that point remember to keep things slow though rushing it after that makes him stay on edge.

For Asa slow and steady is the way to go when he's ready to let you spoil him he will tell you outright that he "requires" your attention

He wont let this happen on a weekday only a weekend where he can fully relax and rest but he leaves the rest to you and that's a big step

Setting up a nice date in is the best way to go and though he likes homemade meals on a day like this he doesn't mind ordering dinner that night

On days he can relax with you the first thing he wants to do is cook for you as odd as it might be it gives him a starting point to let you show him affection

Eating breakfast together then heading to the living room with curled up on the couch you read to him for a bit him might interject sometimes depending on what its about but he just holds you close for a while

Tacking the dogs for a walk is the next part of the day hand in hand taking a walking path and enjoy the day whether its cold or hot he likes walking time

Domestic bliss is something he adores its what he's always craved and you give him the chance to have it so often it keeps him on cloud nine

After going back home out on a documentary and snuggle up to him the dogs will be on beds near the couch and hell have you laying you head on his lap while he runs his hand along you neck and back

You'll eat later in the day and enjoy quite time he might want to rant about his class, he wants to hear about the things you've been into lately and slowly the night winds down

Given that he has no work the next day if your feeling up to it he want to end the day by embracing you its been a while and its not something he up for much but after weeks of not being around you much he craves the close touch

It might not even end with sex he just want to caress your body looking over the curves and lines feeling you fully without restrictions till your both tired and with that he pulls you close to him whispering that he's grateful for you love and thanking you for the wonderful day

Ta-da! I hope all enjoy this and a big thanks to my best birdie buddy for requesting this I had fun writing it and I hope to see here more often! To my other followers if your looking forward to the next part of My Soulmates A God then be happy its the next thing I'm working on. Have a great day and thank you for reading! - Lilly Ps you can really tell I favored Asa here huh..