#and I just wish... I just wish I got returned a fraction of it

[landossnorriss]

for the drabble, how about lando with an asthmatic reader?

pairing | ln x asthmatic!reader wc: just a drabble an: ohh this is cute! i did a little research to make sure that this was ok but i just wanted cute fluff!

it was all fun and game dating an f1 driver until he had an adrenaline spike following a race and enough stamina to chase you around the the house. your giggles were loud as you scrambled over the back of your joint couch and out of his reach. this game wouldn't last forever, you were going to run out of steam sooner or later and you hoped that your lungs could hold out until he had blown of enough of his energy.

"oh parkour huh?" lando beamed as he happily chased you over the sofa, his hands missing your sweater by just a fraction this time. honestly neither he nor yourself should have found this game so amusing but when you had swiped the last bite of the cake you'd had ready following his win, you had known that you were going to set him off.

you were doing well, even if the wheezing had started but you should have known that heading for the stairs would tip you over the edge and half way up the tightening in your chest followed by a burst of coughs brought you to a halt, a groan mixed with defeat sounding through your coughs as you tried to steady yourself, accepting defeat as lando's arms wrapped around you. "got you baby." the driver beamed down at you before he really took in your face. lando knew you had asthma, he'd always been great with it and looking at your face now he knew that he'd pushed you too far. "shit sorry baby, wait there." unravelling himself from you lando pushed his way up the rest of the stairs at alarming pace leaving you on the stairs but he was back in a matter of moments, the inhaler in his hand ready for you. "here... you good to hold it?"

it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to help you but you shook your head, reaching for your device you wished away the worry on his face, no matter how many times he'd done this with you he couldn't help but feel concerned over you. taking your inhaler you sunk back into the wall for a moment, your eyes closing as you felt it work its magic, your breathing slowly but surely returning to normal. feeling body heat invade your space you opened an eye to find lando sunk down to your step, hands reaching for your face and a small smirk playing across his lips.

"what?" he had that look on his face that meant you know he was about to say something troublesome.

"nothing...just." lando paused for a second and when he was sure your breathing was steady enough he reached across to press his lips to yours. "glad i get to be the one to take your breath away." the joke was cheesy and earned him a slap in the chest from you but you were quick to return his kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. "it's a good job i love you lando norris."

[magics-neptunes-things]

I wish I was here

Hi guys!

This is a new Luna's story. I got the idea during the awards evening by seeing the different comments under the photos posted by the official accounts. It tires me to see people shouting at the separation as soon as Lucy is less than a meter from Keira so I dare not imagine what can think Lucy and Ona x)

Also I don't know if Coco is a boy or a girl, sorry if I misgender this poor dog?

Enjoy!

TW : Angst

______________________________________________________________

Staying in Barcelona while her girlfriend participates in one of the most prestigious ceremonies for women’s football is no doubt a bit frustrating, but Ona try to look not upset when it was time to say goodbye to Lucy before she leaves for the airport. With their relationship still not officially confirmed by anyone, it was in Lucy’s apartment that the two young women said goodbye. As Keira is also on the trip, Ona must guard Narla, the dog that Keira and Lucy took together, in addition to her own dog Coco. Fortunately, the two dogs get along wonderfully and had the time of their lives during their trip to Andorra.

After getting the two dogs out, Ona returned to Lucy’s apartment. Coco having already come several times in Lucy's apartment, he knows it better than what Narla knows Ona's. And even if Ona also knows this apartment very well, she can’t help but feel a little alone tonight. Without the presence of her girlfriend, everything seems a little more sad and less interesting.

Sitting on the sofa much too big, even for a person accompanied by two dogs, Ona turns on the television and takes her phone to scroll on the various social networks. She responds to some messages and takes the opportunity to order food. If she likes to cook for or with Lucy, when she’s alone it’s a little different. But her diet is supposed to stay wise and followed, so she opts for sushi.

A few minutes later, her face glows with a big smile when she sees Lucy’s picture on her phone screen. The fullback asks her for a FaceTime and Ona doesn't hesitate a fraction of seconds before answering. Lucy’s face appears, already ready for the ceremony.

"Holà bonita!" says the happy English.

"Hello. How’s it going?" asks Ona while sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"Good! I’m a little late to be honest but I wanted to show you my outfit before you see it on social networks"

"Oh, a sneak peak just for me? I appreciate it" smiled Ona.

Lucy smirk at her answer and backs up the screen so that the youngest can see her entire outfit. And Ona feels her jaw fall. Of course, she’s the first to know how stunning her girlfriend is. But she honestly didn’t expect that.

"Oh fuck me" whispers Ona, her eyes sweeping Lucy’s outfit and body.

"Do you like it?" smiled Lucy as she carried the phone up her face, so that she could look at Ona.

"When are you coming home again?" asks Ona, the mind a little elsewhere.

"During the night" Lucy chuckles as she rolls her eyes, then turns around. "By the way, my parents and brother are here."

Lucy’s laughter extends to seeing that Ona blushed violently when hearing that her in-laws and her brother-in-law are also present. Had she known, perhaps she would have chosen other words to express her admiration.

"Hello Ona!" made Jorge with an amused smile, sticking his head to his sister to appear on the screen.

Despite her embarrassment, Ona managed to exchange a few words with Jorge and her in-laws, before the Bronze had to hang up to get to the party. If a smile remains on Ona’s face after the call, it fades little by little by seeing the different comments on the videos and photos circulating on the evening. Again, Lucy’s name is attached to Keira's, despite the many clues that the four (with Laura) left on social networks.

Seeing the hate that Laura received during her last post of the year, Keira even had to delete the comments section. This is largely what caused Lucy to post nothing at all on her side. But reading comments certifying that the former couple formed by Lucy and Keira is still current is harder to bear tonight. Probably because Lucy’s not with her.

Ona has never complained about this to Lucy, the Spanish knows perfectly well that her girlfriend has nothing to do with it and that she is far from asking for this situation. Ona also knows that this situation is burdensome for everyone and doesn't want to add difficulties by taking things too seriously.

Aitana being also at the party, Ona finally decides to call Salma to change her mind. The young attacker is also a close friend of Ona, despite their age difference. If Salma realizes that Ona doesn't seem particularly on a great mood, she doesn't make comments and is content to talk to her constantly, about everything and nothing. And Ona is extremely grateful.

After the phone call and her sushis, Ona takes the dogs out one last time before going to the bathroom to change. She follows the ceremony with her phone and if she realized that Lucy tried not to position herself next to Keira for the official photos, they were sitted next to eachother. That, too, should not bother her. But in truth, the Catalan would have liked to be able to accompany Lucy. Even if she is far from comfortable in this kind of ceremony, to which she has never been invited. (We will talk about the fact that Ona is cruelly underrated by everyone another time)

After a quick shower and brushing her teeth, Ona returns to the couch to launch Netflix. She sent two messages to Lucy to inform her of the progress of her evening and a photo of Narla and Coco sleeping on top of each other, but nothing more, not wanting to look too needy either.

It's late when Lucy calls Ona, but she doesn't sleep yet, waiting for news of her girlfriend.

"I wondered if you would answer" state Lucy.

"Why wouldn’t I?" Ona asks, frowning. "It’s late, I thought you might sleep" "I wanted to hear your voice" Ona confesses in a timid tone. Lucy thinks that it probably shouldn’t make her so happy, but it does. The rest of the conversation goes through Lucy who explains that they are already on their way to the airport and back to Barcelona. With Fifa having awarded them a private jet, they will be in Barcelona in a few hours and at home just as quickly. But as the conversation progresses, Lucy realizes that something is off with the Catalan. Her answers are brief, her tone evasive and she has a hard time giving her some laughs. "What’s going on, Bonita?" ended up asking Lucy "Nothing... I’m just tired" mumbles Ona, her fingers playing with her dog’s hair. "Are you sure?" "Mhm" replies distractedly the brunette "That’s not how I feel" Lucy distinctly hears Ona sigh softly, making her frown. Ona doesn't hesitate to talk to her about what she usually feels, both having discussed at the beginning of their relationship about the importance of communication in a couple. "It’s nothing Luce, it’s really stupid" "If it bothers you, it’s not stupid Onita" Lucy points out. Despite the fact that the discussion between the two young women isn't made out loud, Lucy is in the car with Aitana, Keira and Cata. It's therefore almost impossible that they don't hear it, despite the fact that they are all three discussing together. But Lucy’s worry drives her to keep trying to find out more. "There are comments that I saw on social media that bothered me a little, that’s all" ended up answering Ona. "Comments about what?" Lucy already knows the answer, but she nevertheless prefers to ask the question rather than assume things.

"You. And Keira. Your relationship, all that. There are those who say that if you were sitting next to Keira it’s because you’re together and if you stood away from her in the photos it’s to not attract attention. Those kind of things."

Lucy remains silent for a few moments, not really knowing what to answer. What she does know, however, is that she doesn't particularly like the turn this discussion is taking.

"Maybe you were right after all, it’s a bit stupid"

Lucy’s answer may be a little too abrupt, drawing Aitana’s curious gaze on her at the same time. Ona, meanwhile, answers nothing.

"You know very well that it's not true, Ona. I thought you were a little more mature and able to ignore these comments"

"I’m sorry" mumbles the Spanish woman rubbing her forehead, thinking that she shouldn't have talked about it and kept these confessions to herself.

A new silence is born between the two young women, however very different from those, comfortable, that they share while cuddling in front of the television or when they are in the car for the training.

"We are at the airport. I’ll write you when we take off" Lucy says.

"Ok. Have a safe flight" mumbles Ona, before hanging up.

Lucy remains silent after the phone call, not realizing that her three teammates exchange looks and communicate in this way. Unlike their arrival, their return isn't filmed and the different photographers or representatives aren't with them. There are only a few security guards in the van, but they are installed in front of and behind them. Jona and others members from the staff are in their own conversation behind them.

The Englishwoman still hasn’t said a word when she settles in the jet, with Aitana sitting beside her, Keira and Cata facing them.

"Everything's okay?" ended up asking Aitana.

"Yeah" Lucy groans as she looks out the window.

Deciding not to beat around the bush and waste their time in this conversation, Aitana decides to go straight to the point.

"I heard your conversation with Ona" begins the Ballon d'Or winner, attracting a new grunt from Lucy. "Did you argue?"

"Not really" ended up sighing Lucy leaving the window with her eyes to shift her attention to Aitana. "She mentioned comments from stupid fans"

When Aitana nods and the other two remain silent, it catches Lucy’s attention again. If she looks at the other two with a suspicious look, it's to Aitana that Lucy talks when she resumes speaking.

"What? Did she talk to you about it?"

"No" sincerely answers Aitana shaking her head. "But I know if she told you about it, it’s because it’s been working on her for a while, Lucy. I’ve known this girl since we started kicking a ball. She’s neither jealous nor possessive. If she told you, it must have been really hard for her at the time."

"You know how she is" adds Cata, sitting in front of Aitana. "She’s the kind of person who wants to deal with things on her own. She even tried to end a match with a concussion a few years ago."

Lucy makes a grimace, remembering the reflections she saw at the time. This dates back to a few years ago, when Ona played with Manchester United.

"I know" Lucy replies, not necessarily a fan of friends knowing more about her girlfriend than she does. "It’s just frustrating. These people don’t stop with these comments and I don’t know what to do to do well. If you post, there are hate comments. If you don’t post either."

With a compassionate smile, Aitana gently taps her on the knee, secretly happy not to be in this kind of situation.

"Weren’t you supposed to send her a message?" asks Cata

"Shit"

Lucy quickly grabs her phone to unlock it and write to Ona, while the flight crew seems to make the final preparations. The plane is already launched on the runway when she finishes.

"You know" said Keira after they took off "I don’t know if I could handle that, if I were in Ona’s place."

Interrupted again in her thoughts, Lucy reports a surprised look on her ex-girlfriend.

"What do you mean?"

"Every day she sees her girlfriend, you, talking to her ex, me. She herself has to bond with this ex, always me, and she does it very well. She has truly never been anything but adorable to me. She sees us talking everyday, because we still friends. And she must be constantly subjected to the headless theories of people who continue to hope for some reason that you and I are still together."

Lucy remains silent for a few seconds. She is obviously clear with all of this, but hearing it out loud and added side by side is different. Her eyebrows are frowned when Aitana speaks one last time.

"Would you see yourself playing on the same team as her ex? Watching her chat and laugh with Ona almost every day?"

"No" Lucy immediately says.

"You half murdered Feli when we played her and her team, and your relationship with Ona wasn’t even a few months old yet" smile Cata.

Lucy rolls with her eyes as she hears Cata’s amused tone, but her gaze shifts to the window once again. Cata is right, all she was able to think at this time is that Feli had Ona at one point in their life. Before her eyes there is only dark, the lights of London having disappeared long ago. She doesn't need more to realize that the other three are right and an intense sense of guilt seizes her. She should never have spoken to Ona the way she did. And her throat gets a little knotted thinking of the Catalan, alone in her apartment.

A few hours later, Lucy delicately opens the door of her apartment. Ona responded to her message saying that they were taking off, but didn't respond when she told her that they had landed. Lucy’s rational side makes her say that the Catalan is just asleep, but her brain hasn’t stopped working for three seconds since her conversation with her teammates and she can’t help but wonder if Ona is just mad at her.

After dropping off her things at the entrance, Lucy goes into the living room and feels her heart melt in front of the scene that takes place in front of her. Ona is lying on her tummy under a blanket on the couch, deeply asleep. Her long hair obscures part of her face and a very slight snoring escapes from her lips with each breath. Her face is illuminated by the lights of the television screen. Coco is tightly hugged, Ona’s face buried in the dog’s hair. Narla is lying on Ona’s legs.

Lucy laughs softly when she sees that new stones are on the coffee table, adding to the great collection of her dog. The sound wakes up Narla who stretches on Ona’s legs before rolling and changing sides to fall asleep again. The movement makes Ona moan gently in her sleep and pushes her to bury her face even more in Coco’s hair.

Delicately freeing Coco from Ona’s embrace, Lucy rests him on the couch alongside Narla before passing her two arms under Ona’s body to lift her from the couch.

"What’s going on?" mumbles the Spanish in a sleepy voice when Lucy puts her on her bed.

"Nothing Princesa, everything's fine" Lucy replies in return, kissing her forehead before gently covering her.

But when Lucy gets up to go to the bathroom, Ona gently grabs her arm.

"Can I have a hug please?"

Sleepy or tired Ona is particularly cuddly, which Lucy has always found adorable. But tonight, the English girl has the impression that there is a little more than that. The guilt at the memory of the tone she talked to her coming back in her mind, she hurries to lie beside Ona and wrap her arms around her.

She lays kisses on the head and the sleeping face of Ona, who smiles softly at this surge of affection. Ona closes her eyes and start to fall asleep again.

"I am so sorry" whispers Lucy, her lips pressed against Ona's temple after having observed the young woman for a long time.

Surprised in her phase of falling asleep, Ona opens her eyes again and slightly turns her head in Lucy's direction to observe her. She doesn't move an inch, keeping her face as close as possible to Ona’s.

"What are you talking about?"

A slight worry is audible in Ona’s tone and Lucy prefers not to wonder where the younger’s mind is running away. Instead, she responds directly, the things she wishes to tell her prepared for tens of minutes in her head.

"About what I told you on the phone and especially the way I told you"

"Oh" just mumbles Ona before shrugging her shoulders "It doesn’t matter. You’re right anyway"

"No Ona, I’m serious"

Lucy takes off from the Latin, causing her to pout and frown. Passing a finger between her eyebrows, Lucy applies herself to relax her skin before resuming speech.

"I shouldn’t have said that"

"It doesn’t matter, Luce, I swear-"

But Lucy interrupts her, putting a finger on her lips. Ona rolls on her back, still frowning.

"Let me speak" says the English woman "I should never have said that to you and told you like that. You have the right to have insecurities and even more need to talk about them. And if you need to talk about it, I want you to do it with me because I want to be there for you. I’m sorry I was so hard to you when you brought it up"

Still driven to silence by Lucy’s index finger on her lips, Ona listens wisely to what her girlfriend is saying to her. Yes, the dry tone that Lucy replied to her briefly squeezed her heart, before she tried to become rational again. Ona thought Lucy might be tired from her evening.

"I’m annoyed by these kinds of comments, and I think I reacted that way because I liked the idea that it doesn’t affect you. You’re important to me, Ona, you’re the most important. And I hate the idea that someone or something might hurt you."

Ona remains silent, always, eyes plunged into those of Lucy. She still remembers perfectly the first time their looks crossed, at the wedding of their common friend.

"But I thought a lot about what Keira and the girls told me on the way back and…"

"You talked about our relationship with Keira?"

The emotions on Ona’s face are hard to decipher, but the fact that she reacts about that before everything else catches Lucy’s attention.

"They more or less heard the conversation we had, I was in the car with them"

Ona groan softly, not really appreciating the idea that their couple problems can be discussed among other people. Even though she knows she can trust their discretion at least from Cata and Aitana. She wouldn't say that she's close to Keira, but she gets along well with her and has always managed to talk to her without any prejudice.

"The three of them defended you" Lucy quickly informs her, pressing her head on her hand, now that she is on her side while Ona is lying on her back. "And they were right. You seem to be living through this situation so well that I sometimes forget that it must not be easy every day for you. If there was one stupid thing tonight it was my behavior."

Rolling on her side, Ona thoughtfully bites her lip before answering her.

"I just want everything to be as easy as possible for everyone."

"I understand. But you must not forget yourself in the process"

Ona makes a famous pout of her composition for simple answer. And Lucy knows perfectly well what the brunette who faces her thinks. Sighing softly, she begins to draw the freckles on Ona’s face with her finger.

"This tendency to sacrifice yourself for others can be worrying, you know?"

"Only for those who deserve it" Ona replies, closing her eyes under Lucy’s caresses on her face. "The ones I love"

Her closed eyes prevent her from seeing Lucy break the existing centimeters between their faces to put her lips on hers, but this doesn't prevent her from smiling against her lips. A sigh of well-being escapes her and her hands attach to the fabric of the clothes that Lucy still wears, the same ones she wore for the ceremony.

"You’re the strongest person I know" Lucy whispers a few minutes later, her forehead leaning against her girlfriend’s.

"Let’s not exaggerate" laughs Ona gently, mixing her legs with Lucy’s.

"I’m serious. Do you know many people who would play on the same team as their girlfriend and ex at the same time? I wouldn’t be able to."

Surprised by this statement, the question can now be read in the chocolate eyes of Ona.

"If you kept talking to your ex, I’d have a hard time, but just imagine that you have to live next to her and talk to her every day… I think I would want to kill her, honestly."

"Are you jealous, Lucy Bronze?"

The surprise gradually gave way to the fun on Ona’s face and voice. This makes Lucy roll her eyes, even if she cannot retain a smile.

"Maybe" simply answers the English.

This seems to suit Ona, since she gets even closer to Lucy, sticking her entire body against the English’s. A silence passes, during which Ona takes the opportunity to soak up the smell and sensation of Lucy’s skin against hers.

"It’s easy because I trust you" Ona says. "You make me feel safe and cared. Tonight was a little more difficult because you were far from me. And I wish I had been with you"

"I wish you was here too" mumble Lucy before adding "At least you can admire me in my outfit anyway"

Ona laughs softly, running her hands over the fabric, soft and light under her fingers. She would have liked to see her put on these clothes, but to have her lying in front of her is not so bad.

"It’s even better in real life"

Lucy smiles again before pressing her lips against Ona's, holding her against her during the kiss that extends a little. Then, she gets up from the bed, causing the surprise of the youngest.

"Where are you going?" Ona asks while sitting on the bed.

"Undress and shower. Want to come help me?"

"We’re supposed to get up in four hours for training" Ona replies, looking at the time on her phone

"Your choice"

Shrugging, Lucy turns her heels to go to the bathroom. It doesn't take more to Ona to throw herself out of bed and almost run after her girlfriend.

"Coming!"

[leavingsunsets]

"𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖽. 𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀."

You and Malleus talk while you go for a evening stroll in the forest.

(You kind of take place of yuu in here.)

"The sky is beautiful today, isn't it?"

A hum, before the soft sound of the breeze fills the silence once more.

It was only the two of you, walking down the cobbled path. A comfortable quiet you've both resigned to.

This was a usual routine. Every time the sunset hour starts, you'll see him waiting for you patiently in the bench, right beside the trees. A sight you're fond of, as he's never looked so peaceful doing so.

Then, you approach, exchange greetings, and start the path together.

There was nothing really wrong with it. Both of you preferred the calm, the untold comfort of company. Maybe with the occasional conversations, and little tidbits of rants you'd express to each other.

However, this time felt more different for some reason.

Call it a feeling, maybe just a gut instinct. Maybe it's the small things he did, like how he glanced at you a little too long, or how his eyes were filled with this unknown gaze directed at you, or the way his walk was a little somber than normal, or—

Before you can let your thoughts continue, Malleus speaks up.

"Is something wrong?"

He pauses in his steps, tilting his head at you curiously. "You've been staring for quite some time, child of man."

You, of course, sputter, not realizing that your eyes haven't been as subtle as you thought. "O-oh, uhm. Sorry about that, I didn't mean to.. you know. Ogle at you weirdly." Rubbing your neck, you gesture with your apology, giving him an awkward grin.

But the fae only dismisses your worry with a hand, reassuring you. "Oh, no need to apologize. I was only wondering why you were staring at me. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with my appearance, is there?" he asks, blinking at you in question.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. Nothing's wrong with your outfit."

The previous embarrassment fades away, leaving only a lighthearted conversation in its place. Now, it's got you thinking, why were you staring at him in the first place?

"It's just that..." you trail off, looking at where both of you stopped. You've both strayed away from the cobblestone, settling into a small grassy opening. From here, the view of the sunset is clear, and the breezy air is all that surrounds you.

"It's just, you seem to have something heavy in mind."

Malleus' eyes widen just a fraction, before relaxing. "Hm. I thought I was hiding it well, but it seems you've still seen through it. As you always do."

That elicits a small smile from you, but it goes back down as you turn to face him fully. "Did something happen?"

He shakes his head. "No, not particularly. Everything's doing fine as usual. In contrary, nothing's been out of the ordinary out of late."

His tone turns quiet, as he faces the sunset, sunlight hues framing his face in an ethereal halo.

"I guess, it's just been a persisting thought in my head. It's silly, really, to worry about such a trivial thing." he mumbles, staring off into the horizon.

Meanwhile, you only look at him, curiosity and confusion evident in your expression. "How so? I'm sure it's not something silly if it's something so somber to you." you reassure, stepping beside him to watch the sunset. "And I'm sure that even if it was, it's still good to get it out."

He huffs at this, giving you a glance, a bit longer than it should, before returning his eyes to the sinking sun.

It's silent. The fae doesn't respond, seemingly deep in thoughts. You let him, deciding that whether or not he chooses to disclose his problems, is up to him.

"... Do you sometimes wish things would stay the same forever?"

His voice is still the same. Noble like, proper, and authoritative.

But for some reason, his voice seemed small, unsure, and uncertain. It felt like a question, but not, at the same time.

"To stay forever, huh?"

Those words mull around your mind, as if trying to understand what he meant.

"Like, to never leave, and to always stay the same?" you ask, looking at him for confirmation.

Malleus nods. "Correct."

You hum, turning back to the horizon. "To stay forever..."

It's a complicated thought, that one. For things to always stay the same, that would be nice, wouldn't it? To never lose what you had, to always keep what you got.

It's common to long for things like these, in the haze of fleeting time, where nothing stops for anything.

You stuff your hands in your pockets, closing your eyes as you bask in the cool breeze of the dusk.

"Not really." you reply, tone light.

Malleus turns his head curiously, eyes set in an expectant gaze that almost felt like weights on your shoulders. "Oh, why not?"

"I mean, what's the point?"

It seems this catches him off guard, as he blinks profusely, staring at you with a confused expression. "Well, I'm sure there are many. To never lose the people you love, for example."

You nod, stance unchanging. "Yes, but, losing a loved one does not mean you will never love again. Change is a part of life, and it helps us realize things we never even knew were there."

"Change..." he mutters, as if pondering the thought. "If I could, I'd make sure nothing would ever change."

A glance, and this time, you don't look away. "Why? Change is good. With change, you meet new people, explore new things."

Huffing, he crosses his arms. "I don't need new people."

It's kind of a unique sight, to see Malleus all grumpy like this, in a light hearted way. It's like an undone knot from his heavy aura a while ago, and to have lessened his burden if even just a little bit, is relieving.

And as you take in Malleus' visage, it seems to have reminded you of a deep seated thought you've always had in the back of your mind.

"You know, if things hadn't changed, I would have never met you."

You say this with a sincere voice, soft, and it makes Malleus pause.

At these words, he is reminded once again of your predicament. Right. From another place entirely, you were a foreigner of this world, yet he somehow can't think of you like that at all.

You fit right in, on days like these where it was just the two of you, under the same sky. He can't possibly imagine you somewhere else, farther than he could reach. He couldn't.

The fae is silent for a moment, stunned by your sudden sentimentality. You, however, continue.

"Sure, I still miss my home. Still waiting for Crowley to figure it out, but... I don't ever regret coming here. If I hadn't, I would have never met you. I wouldn't have met all these new friends, these new people..."

A soft breeze, the shining sun.

"I wouldn't have known what it's like to feel all these beautiful feelings, if I hadn't met you, you know."

At this point, Malleus' world just stops, pausing forever in a time he wish he could keep forever.

The sun's last golden rays dye your visage in an ethereal glow, and the small grin on your face, as curved eyes just gaze at him with such fondness his lips nearly part in wonder.

Yes, Malleus sometimes wishes things could stay the same forever.

To keep you by him like this, to never forget your face. To have a moment like this, and a million more.

Yes, he does wish this could stay forever. To be able to envelope you in his arms like this, to have you close to him.

He's scared. Scared that if he lets you out of his sight, you'll disappear, and it'll be like it's never been, even though he knows it's not.

So, for now, he'll have to cherish this time like it's the last, to take up every little bit of you, as you'll take his.

So that even when the sands of time slip through his fingers once more, you've never really left.

You've taken place in his heart, as he has yours,

and he plans it to be that way, forevermore.

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Auditor, Phobos, 2BDamned and Sanford with a reader that overworks themselves. Prioritizing work over mental and physical health, pushing themselves to their breaking point, skipping meals and only getting a few hours of sleep. I just need these four in particular to tell me to take care of myself and care about me argggh

Overworked reader

Audi, Phobos, Doc, Sanford

CW: bit of a mental spiral on San's end, ends well tho.

Burnouts a bitch man, don't wear yourself thin over shit, y'hear?

Auditor

"Are the chef's meals not to your liking?" You nearly jumped out of your seat when Auditor's ghostly whisper filled your ear. Casting your aching, tired eyes from your paperwork at the once hot meal, still arranged with care on the plate, completely untouched from the moment it left the kitchen.

"Oh, no. Of course not. They're good, don't worry." You offered him a weak smile. "I'll have it later, I just need to finish this up." Audi's eyes narrowed as you gestured meekly to your desk, piled high with reports, cloning records, casualty tallies, and other such boring admin work.

"It's cold." He grumbled, spinning your chair to face him, hands on his hips. "You're going to really hurt yourself and burn out if you keep pulling these awkward hours. Don't think I haven't noticed you slipping from our bed to come back to this. Did you forget how light a sleeper I am?"

Audi's stern demeanour dropped as your features fell, already feeling low because of how your body was struggling, now having your boss/lover add to that. "I just need to be able to keep up with you. What use am I really if I can't handle a fraction of the work you do?"

His hand rested under your chin, thumb delicately stroking your cheek. "You could never keep up with me, my flame, I was made to handle this. You're just a delicate mortal, you do more than enough without stressing yourself trying to level with me. Allow me to finish this later, mea vita, you are going to get a hot, fresh meal while I draw a bath for us, and after you will get the rest your body needs. That's an order, from your employer, understood?"

"Yes, but-"

He cut you off. "No 'ifs, ands, or buts,' You are going to hurt yourself, and I refuse to allow anyone to hurt you, even self inflicted pain. I, as your partner and boss, will clear this burden for you. When I asked for your best, I meant the best you can consistently handle, not this. You're not yourself, and I command you seek out that old self that I fell for and bring them back to me instantly."

Phobos

Being the director's lover had essentially no downsides, nobody spoke a bad word around you, people helped you far more than before, not to mention the adoration of the most powerful figure in the physical realm. However, that same man would often breathe down your neck, commanding you to stay by his side constantly.

Phobos relished in you, watching you, listening to you, being around you. He wished to be adored equally in return, however your work proved to be a distraction from him. He was... a tad obsessive, but how could he not be? He's a god, it was only right you'd devote yourself to him and him alone.

"Leave that alone will you? Your god requires your attention." A large clawed hand rested on your shoulder, the other pulling down his bandages from his mouth. "Your recent neglect of me is not going unnoticed, dear."

You rubbed your aching eyes, staring at a computer screen all day and most of the night irritated them. "I'm sorry Bo, but there's a lot of work that needs reviewing, I've got weeks of backlog to go through, and Christoff, Crackpot and Gonne have all submitted new reports today with pages and pages of intel to go through."

His hands wrapped around your middle, he lifted you up and took your place on the chair, resting you in his far more comfortable lap. "Bah, they're not worthy of your time. I'll command someone else to do it, the short fat one, whatever his name is. He enjoys paperwork and the like."

"Hofnarr is no doubt as swamped as I am." He took your face in one of his hands, his cracked and damaged lips pressing against your cheek.

"Someone else then, if it pleases you. Whatever it takes for you to spend time with me." You leaned into him, your back pressing against his chest, and he emitted a deep purr. "I am a god amongst men, dear, I don't beg for what I desire. I take it. And yet I allow you this honour. So please..."

Your stomach rumbled against his hand. "Harumph! Neglecting yourself as much as you've neglected me?! How dare you, enough is enough. I command you take care of yourself!" Phobos picked you up with ease, holding you level to his eye. To anyone else, he'd be holding them by their collar, or neck to meet his gaze, but with you, he was softer. A hand under your rump and the other on your back, supporting your weight comfortably.

"You are the lover of a god, think how pitiful it would look if I can't even take care of my equal? You stand above others, the right hand of my throne. Your duties have changed, lesser beings will take charge of them. Your only priorities are yourself and me, and the family we will create." Phobos snapped his fingers, and one of the guards at the door came forward.

"See to it that the chefs prepare your God's favourites, find someone to take their duties on and allow them to be truly indulged as they should be." Phobos looked back to you, his eye narrowing. "I will tear this world asunder for you, and build it up as you desire. I will give you anything your heart pines for, never again shall you be run ragged like this."

Phobos was self assured, a god of the highest order, surrounded by weaker, lesser beings. And yet here he was, begging at your altar. He wished you'd devote yourself equally to worshipping you as he did, and he would make damn sure that happened.

2BDamned

3 AM. Doc was in the kitchen, boiling some water over the stove. Hank has smashed the coffee maker earlier in the day, said he'd accidentally dropped the thing, yet couldn't explain the crowbar in his hands. Doc gritted his teeth, damn Wimbleton, making his hard job harder with their stupid thoughtless actions.

He had no doubt the fool had burned themselves on the machine and gone overboard against the poor helpless thing in revenge. Now here he stood, using the stove to make both his coffee and his snack. Instant noodles, his saving grace in the world. Easy to prepare, quick to eat, and filling.

With bleary, tired eyes, you wandered into the dim kitchen, hearing Doc grumbling to himself about 'Getting that moron to find another working machine or he'll have his spine inserted upside down next time.'

"Hey sweetheart." Yawning and setting your tablet down, you wrapped your arms around his midriff and leaned your face into his back. One hand pulled way from the stove, running down your arm before resting atop your hand, feeling the ring around your finger.

"You should be asleep, love." Doc murmured, his animosity towards Hank gone in the wind. You inhaled deeply, basking in his familiar scent.

"I could say the same to you, Kyle." He let out a soft 'Hm.', agreeing without agreeing. You were right, of course. "Debugging with Dei was going well, till he nodded off. San came by on one of his usual bathroom breaks and picked him up."

Doc poured the water into his noodle cup. "You want some coffee?" He took your favourite mug out of the cupboard.

"I thought you wanted me to sleep." You teased tiredly.

"You're my spouse. I know you well enough to know that's not gonna happen anytime soon, even if I would like it if you did." He tossed some powdered milk into the cups along with the beans. "We don't have any sugar left I'm afraid, or sweetener. It's become so scarce these days. Ration packages can't even supply a tiny packet anymore."

"I can get sugar anytime I've got you around." Doc smiled and turned off the hob, turning around to pull you into his arms. "Can I get some now?"

As far as you two were concerned, nothing else existed, everything except what was in both your arms was null and void. He tilted his head down slightly, lips catching yours softly. Butterflies fluttered in your tummy, they flared up every time your husband kissed you.

You rested your head on his chest, it was rare you two had a truly private moment together, as much as you both tried. Being enemies of the state was hard work, who'd have thought?

"You should really lay down dear." Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked up to him. You hadn't even realised you'd started dozing off in his arms.

"No, I've got work to do." You yawned, and Doc chuckled softly.

"You're really stubborn sometimes, you know that?" He picked up both coffees and his noodles. "Tell you what, grab your tablet and we can get cosy in bed together. Work can wait until later, I think we've overdue some private couple time."

Nestled in the crook of Doc's arm felt like the safest place in the world, even with coffee in your system, you couldn't help but fall asleep with him. Trust and love deep rooted, he was your sanctuary.

And damn it, he was going to get you into a healthier sleep routine.

Sanford

It'd been a couple weeks since you'd seen Ford, Doc had sent him off on recon work with Deimos and a splinter group from a faction allied with the SQ, they'd been on the other side of Nevada having heard whispering of something dangerous settling out there.

Two weeks of silence left you anxious, pacing around often, skipping meals and staying up into the early hours of the morning. Longing makes the heart sick, and a sick heart makes the body weak.

The only think you could do to keep your mind occupied was cleaning out the gun stash, checking over the stocked rounds repeatedly, despite the numbers never changing, cleaning already dirt and grime free steel.

A scrubbing brush in hand, you scraped at one of the many swords Hank had salvaged, violently jolting the bristles back and forth over either rust, or really crusted on blood just above the hilt.

Doc usually kept you in the loop of long jobs, sometimes you'd even be in walkie talkie range of your partner and could hear his voice. He could be hurt, he could be dead, you'd be none the wiser, and that was maddening.

Of course you weren't needy and dependant on him, that'd be too much, but just a sign he was okay would've been enough to give you peace of mind. It's the not knowing that drove you to dark places.

Bang!

You jumped in your seat as the front door slammed. "Baby, you here? I'm back." Dropping the blade, you got to you feet and rushed to the door.

"Sanford, you're okay?!" You leaped into his arms, and he caught you easily. Oh sweet security, your world had come home to you safely.

"Yeah babe," San leaned back slightly to get a good look at you, his loving gaze turning to concern. "uh, hope you don't mind me sayin' doll/stud, but you look like hell." His hands brushed over your hair. "...When did you last shower?"

Suddenly you felt rather embarrassed, it'd been a.... couple days at least. Probably about a week since you'd stopped properly taking care of yourself. Swapping meals out for multiple junk snacks, a fucked up sleeping schedule consisting of occasional naps but mostly anxious pacing and activity.

"Uhm..." That was an answer enough for him.

"Baby," Sanford rubbed his cheek, clearing off some dust from his face. "you need to take care of yourself." He sighed and took off his sunglasses. "Have you even been eating properly?"

You didn't meet his gaze. "Okay. Tell you what," He took off his dirty tank top and tossed it aside. "I'll pull out something from the freezer, shove it in the oven while we get a nice shower, and then we can eat and get some rest." Just being near him, hearing his melodic voice again was enough to bring you to a sense of normalcy.

Sanford was fine, he was alive, he was here.

"Things have just been a bit... off without you." You sighed, clinging to his frame, almost afraid if you let him go, he'd run off for another two weeks, or longer. "Sorry, it's just been a lot to deal with, not knowing where you were, if you were safe... It's been hard."

"I get it. I do, I really do," Sanford had his own experiences with deep depression, despite being the large stoic type, the horrors of war, what he and his friends had to do to get an advantage against everything haunted him. "fight, flight, freeze is a real thing, but you can't just shut down baby. You gotta keep fightin, keep yourself in good shape 'cause it's a scary world out there."

"I know. It's easier said than done though." Sanford pulled out a tray of his legendary frozen mac n cheese, you hadn't checked the freezer since he'd left, otherwise that would've been long gone. You didn't know how he did it, but it was godly each time he made it.

"I get that." He shoved the tray into the oven, flicking switches to heat up the frozen dish. "You gotta change how you think, baby." You watched him take off his bandanna, revealing his hair. Or lack thereof.

"You shaved your head?" Usually he'd grow out his hair, style it into long locs and keep them tied back and under his bandanna, but once in a blue moon he'd get bored of maintaining them, and shave it off to start again.

Sanford ran a hand over his scalp, feeling the small curls starting to reappear. "Yeah, easier than trying to keep it clean out there. Dusty as hell." His hands came to rest on your shoulders, turning you to the bathroom. "No bother, I've got your hair to care for now. I'mma spoil you rotten."

Years of caring for his baby siblings had taught the beefcake that just telling someone what to do usually didn't help, but doing it along side them helped solidify the action. He'd help you get cleaned up, get back to eating proper food and getting proper sleep.

He needed to fall into the routine too, sleeping rough in trucks was a pain in his back, and access to his comfy old bed would do him wonders to getting decent sleep again. A full belly and his favourite person in the entire world cuddling into his pecs definitely helped too.

Yes, he needed this just as much as you did.

[wolven91]

thinking about a watchmaker in your universe. someone who's job was to repair small, extremely intricate devices that are redundant in space. i mean, why would you spend so much time and effort finding and fixing a watch when an ai can do it without having to be wound every couple weeks and fixed every couple months? even if you do want a watch you can just get a digital one that has more functions and is more durable at a fraction of the price and effort.

so they change jobs. maybe to a more useful one that still uses their skills in manipulating small, intricate parts. maybe repairing and replacing the small chips and processors in those very same electronics that replaced those mechanical watches they love so much.

their job pays very well, and eventually they save up quite a bit of money. they're constantly checking all sorts of places, both legal and illegal, for anything from earth. when suddenly they find it. a collection of old and "new" earth watches. most of them are broken or damaged, but with a reference now they can start making new parts. they start selling the refurbished watches to earth collectors, and they eventually make enough to start their own small business making brand new designs. it doesn't make a ton of money, but they can finally return to the thing they love, making and fixing watches.

Time Flys

Edward sighed quietly as he sat on the raised balcony, overlooking the promenade. The general buzz of the hustle and bustle was too far below him to be of bother to the human. 

It was a nice view, the end of the street opened up into the park area where rolling hills and artificial waterfalls gave an idealist appearance. Glancing up, he could see the edge of the Mar'Tor's Vow nebula slowly moving over head through the great glass dome.

The old man ached for home and sighed again.

He was getting on in his years now and he was struck with a wave of nostalgia. How he wished he could see Orion's belt from the place he remembered it from. He didn't want to *go* see Orion's Belt, he wanted to see it as he remembered it. Clear as a bell, the three bright dots that sat in the centre of a familiar constellation. His chest hurt from the memory.

"Hey Old Dog." Rumbled a firm voice from behind him, causing his heart to jump just a little. Quiet little blighter.

"Morning Young Pup." Edward growled back with a smirk on his face. The human leaned back in his chair and let his head roll to the side as the canid stalked around the seat to plonk herself down on the chair to his side.

"You're early for your ass wuppin'?" Edward teased, referencing how Snarlp had yet to beat him at Chess since he had taught her the rules. The canid solider wasn't dumb, she had even taught him a few things about bold tactics and how it was indeed possible to punch through a strong defence to put a king on the backfoot, but the canid had yet to figure out subtle tactics.

"I *will* beat you old timer. You've been winning by the fur on your nose these last few games... But... No, that can wait. I got something you might like." The youthful creature grumbled back, her firm tone like gravel in a blender. She wasn't aggressive with Edwards, well she was, but not physically. She was challenging him for his 'place' in the friendship between the two of them. Just as Edward liked it.

Honestly, it was just good fun for him, definitely kept his mind sharp. It felt like he was a captain of a pirate ship; the moment he let his guard down one of his 'salty dogs' would bloodily tear control of his ship from him; it was life and death that he kept his wits. Edwards sighed and smiled, all metaphorically of cause. Snarlp would see her arm torn off before she laid a single claw on the human, Edward knew this.

"You know I'm not interested in that VR nonsense. It was fad before and it's a fad now." He dismissed, more alarmed that Snarlp could be back on the track of trying to have Edward 'try new things'. Edward was happy in his rut. He didn't *like* the new things.

As a human, Edward was old fashioned. Back home, he'd been a watch maker. He could recall off the top of his head how to pull apart and putback together any number of models of watch. At night, to get to sleep, he would mentally repair or build watches for himself.

But alas, amongst the stars, there was no need or desire for mechanical watches. The aliens all wanted digital, with bells and whistles that no clockwork watch could match. Not to mention that Edward couldn't get the printer to work the way he wanted. He needed a scan of some kind. Snarlp had been the one to explain it to him which had broken his heart somewhat. Still, she'd meant well, and it just solidified that his generation, the first off planet, were the last humans that remembered Earth as it was. They were dying out.

"It's not 'Virtual Reality' Old Dog, it's Simulated Environments, and *no*, I'm not showing you something new. I know it'll have your heart attack you or something." The canid growled as she picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the table between them, causing the ice and strange purple fruit that floated in it to 'clink' against the glass. Edward watched her as she sniffed at it, sneered, then downed a large gulpful, straight from the pitcher. There goes having another glass of that any time soon.

Well... He'd need to go get another one anyway.

"It better be nearby. It's forty-two steps to the toilet and that's a 'tactical' decision for me these days. I ain't going on an adventure." Edward warned. The walking stick next to his chair alleviated the pains in his hips, but it still hurt something rotten. He had sworn the canid to secrecy once she had figured out that he was in agony when he walked. Edward wasn't about to let no scientist near him again. He'd let them sire countless bastards from his genetics once already and he wasn't about to let them do it a second time.

Poor things didn't even know he was their father.

"Good thing I brought it here then, isn't it?" Snarlp replied, bouncing up and out of the chair with the energy of a creature that had yet to wake up four times in one night.

"But you couldn't bring it out here?" Edward questioned, tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes.

"By the *moons* do you want your surprise or not?!" Snarlp snapped. Putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward with a glare. Despite being decades younger than him, the aura she had was of Edward's disapproving mother. The tone still made his blood run cold.

"Ugh, fine. You're getting me one of those 'bear wraps' if this isn't worth it." Edwards grumbled as he leant forward and snatched up his stick in a huff. Snarlp stepped forward and ignored the slap across her hands from Edwards as he tried to bat her away. She persisted in helping and he was grateful. Her strength was mighty, pulling him up as if he were no more than a small bag of spuds, yet she was gentle enough that not even her razor-sharp claws broke the man's thin paper-like skin.

"Firstly, it's worth it. Secondly, you *know* you're not allowed the ursidain food anymore. It'll... it's not good for you." Snarlp retorted as Edward found his feet and began to shuffle towards the building, warming up his limbs again so he could move with purpose. They both ignored the genuine tone of fear in her words.

"Bah. You sound like that fool of a guardian." He dismissed, referencing the diminutive taurian the government had assigned him. Edward had no time for that wet blanket. Everything was sniffles and 'eh hem' before the little bull spoke. It drove Edward up the wall.

"Yeah well, they've basically made me your guardian now." Snarlp admitted, much to Edwards shock, but secret elation.

"Now I *know* they want me to keel over. You might win a game then as well." He jabbed, grinning as they got to the door into the apartment.

"I could just throw you over that balcony you know?"Snarlp suggested, briefly thrusting a thumb back the way they came. Edward just chuckled while Snarlp grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The pair entered Edward's apartment and in the centre was his dining table. A huge monstrosity, but necessary in the event an ursidain came to dinner. On top of the giant table however was something new. A massive metal crate. It looked like a chest, oblong in shape with a hinged lid. The red light over the lock on one side showed that it was currently sealed.

"I knew it. You don't see old folk around here because you liquidise them!" Edward hollered, trying to pull his arm from the canid's grip while staring at the box that could hold him within with ease. He didn't actually believe that, but had joked with Snarlp that, that was what they did with people who got too old and just mixed them into the food.

"Will you shut it; you stale fart! *You* don't see old people because *they* are smart and move to paradise worlds! Nobody would want you but me anyway! Now, sit down and let me open this thing!" Snarlp ordered, easily handling his little outburst and guided him to the head of the table. To be fair to the young canid, she had always had him sit in a chair of importance or priority.

He settled and eyed the box, unsure what she was about to spring on him. Snarlp ignored Edward for the moment and placed her thumb against the biometrics. The man paid attention to what was on the side of the crate, a stencilled version of the Galactic Community Administration office emblem. This crate was their property, something they loathed to give up. Edward eyed it wearily.

"I saw this going very differently, do you know how hard it was to convince them to give me this? I expected you to be like a pup getting into their first bit of trouble."

"Can you blame me? You've stuck me into firefights before!"

"In a simulated environment! You were perfectly safe."

"I got shot!"

"You should have kept your head down instead of shouting at me, not my fault a separatist sniper got you."

The lock clicked, silencing them both and the crate hissed as the lid popped open a fraction. Hermetically sealed? Whatever was inside had been sat in stasis. Snarlp lifted the lid and carefully made sure it didn't damage the table once it was fully open. From Edward's position, he couldn't see what was inside, but Snarlp reached in and gently, so gently that Edward had never seen her move with such care, plucked an item from within.

At first, the old man didn't know what he was looking at, so cradled as it was in her palms as she brought it to Edward. But as she carefully placed it on the polished table in front of him, he was struck with understanding.

The man's heartbeat in his chest at a pace not felt since he was 'shot'.

It was a small, cheap, watch.

With shaking hands, he picked it up and turned it over, to inspect the clock face. The second hand ticked by the battery life saved thanks to the stasis. According to the hands, it was 10:32.

While he was merely staring at the device, shocked to his core for seeing such an old artifact of Earth, a second one was placed in front of him by Snarlp, who merely reached for a third out of the box.

Edward stood sharply, sending the chair toppling off the raised platform that meant Edward could sit at the table at the same height as any guest. Snarlp's head whipped round but froze, her hand inches above the crate, holding a digital watch. It showed 12:32 AM.

"How many..." Edward began, unable to ask.

"Loads. It's what intake collected from whoever was rescued." The canid replied softly, aware of the significance.

"What?"

"When you humans were rescued, there wasn't really a plan. Intake was messy. Some counters collected personal items, some didn't. This box is full of those timekeepers you were on about." She explained, plucking two more from the box. It was full to the brim with watches. Just watches.

"H-how... I thought they'd all be...?"

"Sold? Yeah, most human stuff was. But this crate was labelled wrong. They think it was because whoever labelled it was going to sell it on, but chances were they were arrested before they got a chance." The canid knocked a knuckle against the foreign text on the side, next to the stencil. "Storage folk saw the label, did their job correctly and bam. A veritable Lithium Mine left to gather dust."

"I take it we can't keep these." Edward asked, turning over the first watch in his hands. Cheap, but now priceless. It did its job nearly forty years later, ticking away.

"We can't no." Snarlp agreed, and Edward's heart fell. "You can though." She finished, deliberately taking a second to complete her sentence. Edward snapped his head back up at the now grinning canid.

"You're a cruel bitch! What are you saying?!"

"These are yours now. Government can't sell them and returning human artifacts to a human is a easy win in the PR department."

Edward had to brush his sleeve against the corners of his eyes whilst sniffing, but the canid didn't jab him for his display.

"Saying they're yours... You could... scan one?" Snarlp suggested. "I can think of more than a few people on this station alone that would want a mechanical watch. You could teach me to repair them too... You said you would..."

Edward sighed and smiled, he felt like he had a purpose again.

"They're not anything fancy... you can't get VR from them like your consoles."

"Oh my *moons*!! It's not 'VR' and you can't get SE from *just* a console!"

[lokischocolatefountain]

Mercy

My entry for the Haunted Hoedown created by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. Day 7- stranded au or slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Major character death, stranded in the woods, post apocalyptic life, non con, mentions of previous experiences of non con, suicidal reader)

Summary: Stranded alone in the woods and left to die, all you can ask of Joel Miller is the mercy of a quick death. He is willing to give it to you, but he needs something for himself as well.

A/N: It’s another Joel Miller weekend here at lokischocolatefountain. I have a husband!Javi locked and loaded, ready to go. But Joel demand my attention once again for the haunted hoedown. So Javi has to wait another week.

You were safe.

Well, safe from the men who had captured you. But other dangers awaited. If you were lucky, it would just be starvation, an encounter with a wild animal or a fucking heart attack. But you didn’t think your good luck would stretch that far. You were already that the raiders who killed and raided the belongings of the men who captured you did not seem interested in you. It was a goddamn miracle.

Ropes bound your arms behind your back and your legs to each other. Either the ropes were tied too tight or you had become weaker over the past ten days of captivity. They didn’t have much food to spare you. Only the small pieces of rotting meat that they fed to you on the condition that you suck their cocks.

It wasn’t as though you had a choice when tied up the way you were. There were other women held captive with you- younger, prettier, less willing to comply and more appealing to the men as they liked a challenge. You were one of the older models, beaten ragged by life both before and after the world fell apart. For them, a woman was a woman. No matter how broken you were, there was always more to break. No matter your age or how fucking crazy you’d gone from survival, you had a pair of tits and three holes. For most men, it was more than they could dream of. For you, separated from your group and all alone, it was the only thing you could barter.

Now there was no need for any of it. You would decay on the ground along with the fallen leaves and the blood you’d spilled when the men cut through your clothes. The last of the women after another one decayed just a couple feet away from you. Yours was a fate better than the girls who were taken away by the raiders. Experience had taught you that. The last time you’d been in the hands of such a group, you were younger. They used you to their heart’s content and then sold you to a man for a good price- a whole goat, a bag of rice, a record player and a couple of vinyls, and a leather jacket. Pretty good stuff. If you had to valuate yourself now, you’d probably go for a small fraction of that- maybe just the leather jacket.

You would no longer go for the same price. You no longer had the strength to kill the man who purchased you like you were just a thing.

You swallowed, your throat aching for water. But all you got was the piercing pain of a hundred jagged pebbles scratching your throat. One of the factoids from an old encyclopedia popped up in your head: It takes x days for dehydration to cause death. Unfortunately, your brain hadn’t thought to pay more attention to the number, leaving you with no information.

What you knew was that it took one day of dehydration to wish for death.

Daylight withered away and darkness descended in the woods, matching the darkness of your thoughts. In the pitch black night with no stars or even a sliver of the moon, whether your eyes were open or closed did not matter. In the times before, it was advised for women to return home before nightfall. As though danger only lurked in darkness. As though men did not behave atrociously in broad daylight. Shaking on the ground from the cold, dehydrated, near death, your biggest fear was still man.

It was why the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves under a heavy footfall struck more fear in you than the sight of the infected ever did. Man.

Measured. Careful. Not infected. Man.

He could just be passing by.

It could’ve been delusions inspired by dehydration and starvation, but the footsteps sounded just a little louder as the seconds passed. He was getting closer.

Joel Miller didn’t know, but your body already played to his beat, your heartbeats responding to the sound of his footsteps. Pills from Atlanta passed on to him from his contact rested in his backpack, the currency with the highest value in the QZ. His hand itched to take one pill for himself. Just one. The nightmares of losing his child flashed before his eyes even before he could succumb to the weariness of the journey and sleep. A pill would help.

Don’t get high on your own supply.

He needed to be at his best state of mind since he was traveling alone now, his companion having been taken out by a clicker on their journey. But God was it tempting.

Darkness enveloped the woods. The moon and stars had abandoned Earth for the night, afraid that if they shone their light on the land, they’d see its haunting wreckage. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it still played tricks on him. For a second, he believed he might have seen a figure move on the ground.

Leaves rustled and crunched beneath his feet. His hands immediate grabbed the gun he had at the ready, the muzzle pointed to the ground. It hit something— someone, he realized when it gasped.

“Please,” your low, shaky voice begged. “Please shoot me.”

He would’ve thought he misheard. Who’d ask to be shot when threatened with a gun? But such was the world in which they’d lived. Death was sometimes more desirable than whatever horrors life had to offer. Joel had survived, somehow. Violence and the sheer human instinct for self preservation kept him around until now, even a decade and a half after the collapse of society.

He brought a lighter close to the ground and lit it, the little golden flame illuminating your bloodied and bruised. He noticed that your arms were bound behind your back and legs tied together at your ankles.

Joel understood you didn’t have long. A day maybe. Longer if you were fed and hydrated. He himself was not interested in charity. If someone else happened by you and you were able to convince them to toss you a piece of bread… But you didn’t want charity. You asked for his bullet, not sustenance.

Bullets didn’t grow on trees.

“Good news. You’ll be dead by daybreak.”

“Please,” you whimpered in a low gravelly voice, mustering up all your energy to beg for this small act of mercy.

You hadn’t asked for his precious rations or water. Only that he finish you off with the weapon he pointed at you. He dropped his belongings somewhere in the vicinity, not bothering to dignify your request with a response.

Joel lied down on the ground in the vicinity in a sleeping bag, his pack serving as a pillow. Sleep did not come easy. He merely rested his eyes, his sense attuned to his surroundings even when he was meant to rest.

When the sun rose, he rolled his sleeping bag and set it inside a hollow tree before heading to the pond nearby. He returned, having washed up, ready to resume his journey back to the QZ. Curious about you, he went to the site where you were last night.

“Please,” you begged once again. “Before you leave. Please.”

He nudged you with his boot, your weakening body rolling to the side and giving him a good view. One bullet. But what a waste of a good body. He could help you in return for something for himself. There was a brothel in the QZ, of course. The oldest profession carried on right under FEDRA’s nose. They pretended to not notice. Sometimes, they’d conduct a raid and arrest some women under the guise of maintaining the law. An excuse for the FEDRA guys to have the women for themselves for the night.

Joel did not indulge in such services. He didn’t see the point in spending precious ration cards just to get off. His spit and left hand were enough for him to get by. But you were free of cost.

“Since you asked so nicely…” he drawled, withdrawing his knife from its holster. He sliced through the ropes that bound your ankles together. You didn’t know his intentions though you’d come to expect it from men over the years. If he wanted to take advantage, he surely would’ve gone ahead with it last night. Sure, Joel hadn’t intended it at first. But now that you were available…

Reliable contraception had died with the world. Too risk averse in this specific matter, he’s contented himself with the rare blowjob. Pussy was a delicacy he hadn’t had in a while. You didn’t protest as he tore your pants off of you, finding skin beneath.

“Be good and I might just kill you in the end, darlin’…” he promised and you spread your legs, cooperating, being good so he would consider it. You didn’t know when the next person would pass by this place. Even if someone did before you could die a slow death, there was no assurance that they’d kill you rather than prolong your miserable existence.

“Wha’s your name?”

“Joel.”

Joel. Joel brought a damp cloth to your face, wiping the blood and dirt off you. It was…strange. It felt as though you were being taken care of. It wasn’t the case of course. But it felt good to believe he was taking care of you. It was the first bit of humanity you’d experienced in a very long time.

The blade slipped under your half torn t-shirt, cutting up the fabric that had done a poor job so far of giving you any dignity. His large hand roamed your now naked torso. Calluses caught on your somehow soft skin. The sensation was the first pleasant thing you’d felt in a long time. You attempted unconsciously to lean into his touch, but your weakness kept you glued to the ground. Even the cold blade of his knife felt good. You’d gone mad, surely. This was definitely a stage of delusion caused by your dehydration and starvation.

He cupped your cheek and leaned down, capturing your lips with his. It was as though you’d forgotten to kiss. The men who took interest in you were less concerned with making use of your lips for a kiss. If Joel had put his cock between them, you would’ve known better what to do. It seemed he’d also forgotten. He wasn’t kissing you. He bit and sucked and devoured.

Your hands were still tied behind you. They dug into your back. But it didn’t hurt as much as Joel’s hand supping your tits. Even the animals who last had you under their control were gentler than this. But you weren’t too offended. It hurt. But there would be sweet death at the end of all this pain. So you embraced it fully, letting out nothing but a little whimper as a sign that you were at all affected by his touch.

Even in your state of near death, you could tell that he was a handsome man. Grey interspersed black curls on his head. Patchy beard hid rugged, sun damaged skin. His aquiline nose would’ve inspired sinful thoughts in you had you been further away from death. In a normal world, he would’ve been getting a drink at a bar and you would’ve noticed him.

Joel spit on his hand and rubbed it around on your dry cunt. With his thumb and forefinger, he parted your cunt lips before inserting his middle finger. Inch by painful inch, he penetrated your unwilling body that was attached to a very willing mind. There was no water left to be spared to wetten your cunt for the man.

“C-cut me,” you suggested, desiring the penetration to be smoother. If this was the last time you got to be fucked, it wouldn’t hurt to hurt a little to enjoy the last few minutes on the mortal plane. “Bl-blood.”

He seemed to understand your weak implication. You hissed as the sharp edge of his knife cut through the top layers of your skin. Red blood oozed out and he swept his hand over it, collecting the blood and smearing it over your cunt. He slipped a finger inside you, lubricating your hole with your own blood.

He knelt over you, his knees on either side of your body. Then he unzipped his jeans, the teeth of the zipper making a scratching metal sound. He was a good length, girth and veiny. He stroked himself as he stared at your bloodied hole.

Fucking a dying woman using her own blood as lube. Of all the messed up things he had done, this was easily on the top ten. Not that he maintained an actual list. Despite her decrepit state, she looked welcoming with her legs spread out and eyes on his cock. He bent your legs at your knees, your body pliant in its weakness. You were a thing of rare beauty in his journey. Nature had reclaimed its place, growing between abandoned cars and splitting into giant overpasses. This, you, were another part of nature to him.

Woman, all beautiful in your vulnerability, laid out to be claimed.

He guided his cock between your legs and forced himself in. Red lube you’d given up for him to use on you coated his cock, reminding him of the violence of his desire. He twitched inside you as he pushed in, a perverse sort of excitement stimulating him.

He brought the knife up to your neck and rested the blunt edge against your throat. You gulped. Your eyes widened. Your breaths quickened. Your cunt clenched around his cock and Oh God how divine you felt this way.

You’d asked for death, practically begged for it. But fear was not something you could prevent. Your wretched mortal body was programmed with the foolishness of wanting to stay alive.

“Been so long,” he muttered when he bottomed out inside you. Though you’d had many men inside you, it’d been long since any stretched you out so good. You took a deep breath and wished you had your hands free. You were overcome by a sudden urge to touch him. To run you hands down his sturdy arms and solid chest. It’d been so long since you wished.

“Good?” You asked, squeezing his cock. He smiled and bent forward to kiss you. Your lips, your chin, along your jaw. It was tender. Too tender for sex in the woods with your clothes torn off and your thigh bleeding into the soil.

He began to move, pulling out just a little before pushing back in. He savored it. After all, this could be his last chance at a cunt for a very long time. He grabbed on to your tits to use as handles, making you squeeze around him. Your lips let out a painful little whine, but he didn’t feel guilty. What bad did a little more pain do? You were going to die anyway. If you weren’t making use of your tits and cunt, at least he could enjoy them.

“So good…” he praised and you responded in kind, thrusting back weakly. “Yeah? You like that, cunt?” He asked, using the crude word in place of your name. He didn’t even know your name. But Cunt was appropriate for the purpose you served. You nodded. “I really struck gold in the fucking woods of all places, huh.”

“Good cunt,” he praised, the words shooting straight into said body part.

“Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, unable to say much else under the assault of the sensations. You didn’t have to for he claimed your lips once again in a kiss. He was better this time and so were you. Your lips stayed connected with his just like your pussy with his cock, devouring each other in desperation for a taste of something good in all the wretchedness.

Joel’s cock drilled into you. Merciless, fast, painful. All you knew before was hunger and suffering. With him, it had all disappeared. It was just Joel now. He consumed you, turning you from a discarded body passed from one raider to the other to Good Cunt. You liked the sound of those words on his lips.

“Just like that, Cunt,” he hissed as you milked his cock, your thighs cramping as your muscles contracted. Something pulled somewhere and you screamed in pain and your cunt tightened for him. Warm cum spilled inside you, the sensation a distracting relief in the midst of the pain.

Tears slipped down the sides of your face, cooling your skin.

“Did well. Did so well, Cunt,” he praised as he tucked himself back inside. He hadn’t felt so good in forever. Such a relief. Such an unburdening of stress and anxiety over his smuggling and its chances of success. He zipped himself up and bent over to retrieve his weapons.

“How do you want to go?” He asked, weighing the gun in one hand and knife in another as he looked down at your debauched body.

You made your choice, thanked him for his mercy and closed your eyes.

.

.

.

My Masterlist

[wishing-stones]

L or Y with Cross

I actually have two with L for Cross, so that's what I'll do!

L. A stolen kiss.

He tended to come and go, but you were used to that.

Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was with his... friends? You weren't sure, but none of them really objected to you. Killer even kind of liked you.

Cross, though...

Cross was the only one who really paid attention to you. He stopped to talk to you. He listened to what you had to say. He shared his own stories. Sure, he was secretive, but... He seemed to make time for you from whatever business he was conducting.

He was sweet, really. You weren't sure how it was possible to have a crush on a skeleton, but here you are. You figured most of it is his personality, with another small fraction being his voice. (He really does have a lovely, handsome voice.)

As you came to find out, he blushed purple. He had blushed and avoided looking at you when he asked you if you'd like to get lunch together sometime. He'd blushed even harder when you had accepted eagerly.

And now, here the two of you were having a lunch date at a nice outdoor cafe.

You liked how easily you could talk to him. It never seemed awkward. He seemed to know what to say, he told interesting stories, listened to you when you told yours, and when he decided to be funny, he was actually pretty hilarious.

He had a wonderful sense of comedic timing, and his plays on words were top-notch.

You wound up spending much more than just the lunch date with him, wandering the city streets after he'd picked up the bill and just... talking. He was a monster, and still gained some interesting looks... but it didn't seem to bother him all that much. He said he was in the royal guard, so you figured that must be why. He was essentially monster military-- well-trained and composed.

You think he might have been someone pretty high up in the ranks.

You wind up walking to the park as you talk, and enjoy the balmy afternoon. Cross didn't seem quite as enamored of the surface world as other monsters did. He only stared wistfully at the sky every so often, relished in the fragrant spring breeze a handful of times.

He said he was part of a very elite group of similar monsters who did a lot of very dangerous missions for a mysterious boss. He refused to name who, although that didn't matter much to you. You'd met Killer, Dust, and Axe, anyway. You weren't sure you wanted to know who all of them worked for.

You got the distinct feeling they were all aptly named.

The two of you wound up walking and talking well into the early evening, and Cross had offered to walk you home. You'd suggested maybe getting something to take home, or to order something in, but he'd blushed that fetching purple blush in response and insisted that he had to get going once he saw you safely to your door.

A pity, but you would take what you got. You walked with him at an easy pace back to your house, and he seemed to take in all of the details of the neighborhood in a scrutinizing manner. When you asked, he told you he was memorizing the way to get here so he could find you if he needed to, or take you home again if there happened to be a time or place for him to do so.

He really was incredibly sweet.

He rubbed at the back of his skull as you stood outside your home, blushing again and kind of awkwardly wishing you a good night, and a hope to see you again soon.

You'd done so much and talked so much today, it just... did not feel right to let him leave quite like that.

So, boldened by the bond you knew was there and strengthening, you caught him by the furry ruff of his hood and pulled him down to steal a kiss.

If he really wanted to, he'd have prevented it. You'd caught enough of his face before you closed your eyes to see he absolutely realized what was going on.

Besides, you were sure of your decision when he curled a hand against the small of your back and returned it. Kissing a skeleton was strange, but... kind of exciting. You suspected that was magic tingling on your lips as he pressed his own kind of firm, bony lips to yours.

It at the very least felt like magic.

It was a soft kiss, but it lingered, and he only pulled back slightly to whisper your name.

You loved how that sounded. You wanted to hear it more.

But... he had to be going, and you respected that. You extracted from him a promise to come back soon so that you could cash in on that promise of dinner. He'd chuckled at it and agreed.

And then he'd bid you goodnight, but not before catching your hand, bowing at the waist, and kissing the back of it while looking up at you.

Your heart had skipped a beat.

And then he had been gone. The next second, he was no longer there, and you wondered if maybe you'd hallucinated it. The more likely explanation was that he'd used magic to make a getaway, and you left it at that to head on in and order some food for yourself.

You wound up falling asleep on the couch watching a movie after you had finished eating your dinner, you know you had...

...But in the morning, you woke in your bed. You were still clothed, but you were tucked neatly beneath your covers. You had been confused until you saw the note on your bedside table in purple handwriting.

Realized I forgot to leave my number with you. You were crashed out, so I figured I could probably put you in bed and you wouldn't mind too much. Text me when you get the chance. -C.

You texted him almost immediately, feeling like a giddy teenager all over again.

[the-wisteria-house]

The Arrangement (Rengoku x reader) - Chapter 5

In his eagerness to get home and gather information about what his father is hiding Kyojuro forgoes sleep after his latest mission. This is proven to be a poor lapse of judgement, but thankfully your there to patch him up, and in the prosses a glimpse of your true self is unveiled to him, so maybe the blood and the scare he was sure to have was worth it?

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol abuse, canon Typically violence, minor injuries (Kyojuro), awkward (y/n), and Kyojuro.

As Kyojuro stumbled out of his sandals and made his way down the corridor to the washroom, he couldn't help but wince as he barely caught his balance on one of the walls, narrowly avoiding landing on the floor. Kyojuro realized in that moment he had lost a lot more blood than he had originally anticipated. As he stared down at his hand that was putting pressure on his rib. He couldn't help the feeling of shame rise in him at the sight of his blood which stained his palm and dripping onto the floor below, 'You're a Hashira it's pathetic that you let a lower rank demon put you in such a state.' In his eagerness to figure out what his father was hiding he had an uncharacteristically poor lapse in judgment and decided to forgo sleep after his latest mission and head straight home in the hopes of speaking to you at first light. The lack of sleep and the tole the mission left on his body left him vulnerable to an opportunistic demon that caught him off guard as he ran through a neighboring village, though the demon was dispatched within seconds that didn't change the fact it was able to claw a deep gash across the Hashiras chest down to his ribs. 

"Kyojuro? Is that - oh god. Uh, come on, we need to get you patched up." Your surprised voice pulled him from his self-depreciating thoughts before you firmly grabbed his arm and led him to the bathroom and went along wordlessly.

The young man watched from the toilet lid as your eyebrows were nit firmly in what could have been worry, while you searched through the first aid kit you'd dug out from under the sink. Your features softened a fraction once you found the bottle of antiseptic and some cotton swabs.

Not even glancing in his direction you gestured to the rag you had given him when you both first entered the bathroom, "Bite down on that, I'm sure this'll hurt like a bitch.", 

Kyojuro didn't even have time to react to your foul language you turned, and a pained grunt left him and he quickly bit down on the rag, as you gently cleaned out his wound and wiped away excess blood with a damp rag as you went. You only stopped when Kyojuro softly laid a scared hand over your own, much smaller hands, not allowing you to clean the area over his heart. This action made you pause to look up at the slayer and give him a questioning look, noticing he removed the rag from his mouth. You were having to dig debris out of his wound so to say you were confused at this action would be an understatement.

"Thank you (Y/n), I'm truly sorry for waking you, that wasn't my intention." Kyojuro said with an apologetic smile, which you wouldn't help but return despite how every fiber of your being screamed at you to keep yourself guarded. 

"It's alright. It's not a big deal." His grip loosened, allowing you to continue your work, "You're pretty banged up." You state, filling the silence, leaving an opening for him to continue if he wished.

"Yea..." he paused, seeming to debate if he should say more, "A demon got the jump on me." he said humiliation clear in his voice. 

"That's alright, even the strongest make mistakes. Life is full of lessons. This could be one of them." Kyojuro too in your wise words as he watched you pull out a needle and thread from the box and got to patching him up. Your steady and confident moments, along with the persistence of your stitches impressed him, "You've done this before." He states after you were halfway done with his stiches.

"No, I just thought it would be a fun experience to stitch up a Hashira, in the middle of the night, you know? Just for the hell of it." If Kyojuro hadn't seen the small smirk that dawned your soft lips, he would have thought you'd been serious by the steady and monotoned sound of your voice,"I worked at a doctor's office as a cleaner when I was a young teen. The doctor was a kind woman and was eager to nurse my curiosity about medicine despite my lack of a formal education... She taught me a few things while she was in my village." you glanced up at him, gauging his pain levels before continuing, "Sadly, she and her assistant decided to move their practice after a while, so I had to start working full time at the tea house." You finished off as you masterfully tied the last stitch.

"That was nice of her. What else did you learn from her?" He asked, curiosity peaked as you began to dress his now closed wound.

"Oh, basic things like first aid, simple remedies and medicines, as well as how to take blood and give vaccinations. So, nothing too extreme, it was nothing that a normal person couldn't learn from a book." You shrug nonchalantly, focusing more on dressing his wound.

"Still, not enough people know first aid! So, I think it's wonderful you took time to learn it!" He says earnestly, with a smile that you swore could outshine the morning sun. You couldn't find it in yourself to turn away from the man before you. You froze when his gaze met your own,causing your hand to rest flat on his toned chest as you briefly stopped wrapping his wound. The look in his eyes wasn't one you had anticipated. He wasn't looking at you with distain or even disgust, as you would have originally thought, but with a slight curiosity and... what appears to be tenderness?  No, you must have been mistaken! Why would he give you of all people such a look? Your eyes followed Kyojuro's' hand as he reached out and grasped a stray lock of your hair that was in your face before pushing it behind your ear, "That's better." One of his scared knuckles grazed your jawline for a fraction of a second. Despite how feather light the motion was, it left your skin heating with a pleasant warmth in its wake, "It's getting late. You should get to bed; I truly appreciate your assistance. You got me sewed up quicker than I could have done on my own, and you did a better job as well. " He added after a moment of silence, breaking away from your gaze, and retracting his hand slowly, as you nodded.

"You should as well, I'm sure you're tired from your travels, and duties." You agreed before helping the taller man stand and shadowing him down the long corridor. As you watched him walk ahead of you, you noted he thankfully seemed to be fairings better than he had been when you first found him. Despite this, you chose to stay nearby just in case he became faint again. Thankful he hadn't and the short walk to your rooms was uneventful, and as you both begin to go to enter your separate room, you both stopped and turned to speak at the same time, cutting each other off. "Kyo-"

"(Y/-" You stared at each other for a few moments before you gave him a small but beautifully striking smile.

 "I hope you sleep well, Kyojuro." Your soft voice broke the tension in the air, as your orbs held his own.  

"I- uh- you too (Y/n)! Th-thank you for everything." Kyojuro, in that moment as he stumbled over his words, as he bore into your kind eyes owlishly. In that moment Kyojuro felt more like a shy schoolboy than the revered and powerful Hashira he was meant to be. His flustered appeared only increased tenfold when you bowed your head slightly before entering your room, the pleats of your sleeping yukata flowing behind you as if the fabric was casketing water, and not linen, before you shut the sliding door. Leaving him standing in the hallway with only the shine of the moon to keep him company, feeling like a blushing fool. 

Kyojuro woke to the morning sun shining in his eyes as it spilled through the opened window of his room.

He blushed as his thoughts traveled to the events of last night, or hell was it really the early hours of that morning? He didn't know if it was the blood loss or your bewitching beauty, that allowed him to act so impulsively. Then as he thought about it more, he supposed it didn't matter, what was done was done... More importantly, you hadn't seemed at all bothered by his actions, or at least it didn't seem that way. You were quite a hard person to read if he was honest, or maybe he wasn't all that good with women? He had never really actually courted one before or been around one for extended periods of time other than his friend Mitsuri. Did that count though, they spent most of their time together training and eating?

Pushing off his thoughts not wanting to confuse himself further on the matter of the matter, he began to get ready for the day, choosing to dawn a vibrant red yukata with a dark carco grey Obi. He then put on a matching pair of grey tabi socks before exiting his room.

As he walked down the corridor leading to the main room, the aromic smell of tea filled his senses. You and Senjuro must have been awake, preparing breakfast. He wondered if that been the routine in the days he'd been absent?  

He tried to stifle his laughter as he entered the kitchen and saw Senjuro standing closely by your side almost as if he were your shadow, his eyebrows creased in firm consecration, as he watched you expertly grill salmon.

"Ah, Anuie! You're back from your mission! I'm assuming you arrived last night?" Senjuro's attention snapped to the doorway the moment he heard his older brother's distinctive laughter, with a surprised smile. 

"I am, I arrived late last night. The mission was thankfully successful!" He walked closer to the two of you and gave you both his signature smile before offering his assistance while he looked over the ingredients you had out.

You looked up in thought, thinking about what task to assign him, missing how his little brother looked at him as if he had multiple heads. What was Kyojuro thinking?

"Sure, would you mind cleaning and starting the rice? Thank you." You accepted before pointing to the bag of rice that was on the center island and going back to work on the salmon.

"What are you doing? You can't cook!" Senjuro whispers to his elder brother as they both made their way to the rice, kyojuro with a pot in hand. 

"I'm a Hashira. I can surlily cook rice, Senjuro!" Kyojuro confidently stated as he took a cup of rice out of the cloth bag, Senjuro let out a defeated sigh as he watched his brother turn on hot water to clean the rice instead of cold... this was going to be fun.

-

Kyojuro later realized he in fact- could not cook rice. He felt warmth creep up his neck as he stared down at the scorched, almost unrecognizably burnt rice grains. 

"I swear, I only looked away for a moment!" He practically yelled, trying to mask his embarrassment. Only for you to give him an unreadable look before you gently removed the pot of from his hold and disposed of the entire thing, as there was no chance of saving the also scorched pot. (Honestly parts of the pot looked on the verge of melting)

"I told you, Kyojuro!" Senjuro whispered as he propped open one of the windows in the kitchen in hopes of removing the burnt smell and smoke that filled the air and his older brother stood slightly behind him seemingly unsure of what to do.

"Hey, I didn't know it would burn, I figured it would just cook faster on high, and then we could eat sooner!" He rubbed his neck and looked down, trying to push down the humiliation he felt. You must have thought he was unless... A grown man who couldn't even cook rice. 

"You know I don't recall ever seeing someone scorch rice before... I'll show you how to properly make it tomorrow, okay?" Kyojuro's head sprung up at your offer. The look on his face was almost reminiscent of a dog being given a table scrape after going on a day's long hunting trip. To say he was elated at the offer would be a serious understatement.

"That actually worked?" Senjuro mumbled under his breath in shock as he stared at the two of you. His brother's confidence seemed restored at the offer, and you had a cool and calm air around you. As much as your personalities seemed to contrast, he couldn't help but think you complemented each other nicely, and made a charming pair.

Senjuro never pretended to understand his father, but he was starting to see why he chose you for Kyojuro. With someone like you, you'd make him slow down and enjoy the smaller things, and with someone like him, you'd open up more and hopefully grow more spontaneous. You two gave each other balance. He may not have agreed with how Shinjuro went about pairing the both of you, but he couldn't deny that this was one of his father's smarter choices. 

"Morn'in, did something burn?" A gruff voice sounded from the doorway. Speaking of the man, it seemed he'd decided to join you that morning.

"Yea, it seems we won't be having rice this morning." You began to put the salmon and vegetables on a serving dish, missing the confused look on the Rengoku Patriarchs face, as he realized what burned. 

"How'd you manage to burn rice? You were able to make it just fine yesterday, and all the other days before that." The man said gruffly as you handed him the serving tray silently ordering him to take it to the table, and much to his son's shock and amazement, he did without complaint.

" It wasn't (Y/n) who burnt the rice, Father." Senjuro said with humor as his father's eyes narrowed slightly in a silent question because it's been years since Senjuro burnt rice.

"I was the one who burnt the rice." Kyojuro spoke up after a moment of silence, the tips of his ears turning red, and embarrassment radiated off of him, despite his owlish features being pulled in a large smile.  

"I'm going to show him how to properly make rice tomorrow, but for today, Muso soup and some salmon with veggies will have to suffice." If Kyojuro hasn't been looking, he would have missed your humored expression as you put a bowl of soup in each person's spot. In that moment, his features relaxed into a calmer, pleasant smile. 

You all sat down and gave thanks before starting to feast on the meal. Kyojuro and Senjuro imminently began to dig in, but you noticed Shinjuro hadn't started eating yet, seemingly too occupied with his reading.

"Rengoku-Sama." You said expectantly after a few moments of him not making any moves to put the book down. The man in question looked up, giving you a questioning look when you hadn't continued speaking after saying his name.

"What is it?" You gestured to the book with a blank expression.

"It's not proper to read at the table, Sir." You said simply, no accusatory tone in your voice, but making it clear you wanted him to put the book down.

"Fine, I guess I can get to the damn thing later." The man grumbled before begrudgingly placing the book by his side.

It was at that moment that Kyojuro noticed his father was clean shaven that day, and if his temper (or lack thereof) meant he hadn't hit the sake yet, or at least not enough to inebriate him to the usual degree.

"You look well, Father." Kyojuro decided to voice his thoughts, he hoped that this wouldn't be a one-time thing. His father only responded with a grunt of acknowledgment. Still, this pleased Kyojuro, who was used to not getting a response at all from the older male most of the time.

"When did you come in from your mission?" Shinjuro asked, smoothly changing the subject as he started to eat his food.

"Late last night, the mission itself went smoothly, I decided to come home instead of staying at the local inn." Kyojuro looked up at the male not having had expected that question but responded as he continued to eat.

"How about the trip back? You must not have gotten much rest if you came back immediately." You watched as Senjuro's brows pulled together in worry the moment the question left his lips. You couldn't help but wonder how would Kyojuro respond?

"The journey back went smoothly until a third of the way back. As you said, I hadn't gotten much sleep, so a demon was able to catch me off guard, embarrassingly enough. Though, it was quickly dispatched after its first attack." Kyojuro made sure to stress the last bit as too, as to not worry Senjuro further.

"So you were injured?" The boy frowned seemingly not reassured. You decided to save poor Kyojuro in that moment and redirect Senjuro's attention.

"Yes, he was, but don't worry, we got him fixed up when he made it home." You softly squeezed the boy's shoulder, which seemed to finally ease his worries. 

"Next time, just go to a damn inn boy." The oldest Rengoku spoke up suddenly, in the same gruff tone his voice always seemed to carry, but the look in his eyes had shifted to something unfamiliar. He almost seemed... worried? It didn't seem the boys could see this as they turned their attention to him, not that you could really blame them with how he was glaring.

"I believe what your father is trying to say is we'd all prefer it if you wouldn't put yourself at risk, and that if you're tired, you'll go to an inn, instead of racing back home." You then let out a small sigh before looking at him voice softening, "Not that I minded patching you up, I understand such injuries come with your occupation, but I'd like you to avoid injuries if you can, it'd put mine and everyone's else's minds to ease." Senjuro nodded firmly in agreement with your words, and Shinjuro only looked at his eldest son with an unreadable expression before focusing his attention on his food.

"I'm sorry if I worried you, but I'll be sure to keep your words in mind in the future. Thank you!" Kyojuro gave you a genuine smile before he seemed to revert back to his boisterous and energetic self.

The rest of breakfast went without a hitch, most of the talking being done by the two brothers, with you contributing to the conversation when you saw fit, and their father remaining silent.

"So, you took (Y/n) to the market? Did you do anything else?" Kyojuro inquired curiously after Senjuro told him about you going to buy ingredients.

"Oh, we saw Toshi-San! She seemed well. " Senjuro mused as he set down his chopsticks once he finished his meal.

"That's good to hear! She's been running that stand of hers since before I was your age! I actually don't remember when she first moved here. It's been that long!" Kyojuro looked up as he scratched his chin in thought. He knew the old woman had moved here at some point when he was a young boy, but he had no clue when. Though he was aware she knew his mother to a certain extent as he remembered visiting the old womans stand and even her home as a young child.

"She was a matchmaker before she was a vender." Shinjuro said simply with a shrugged as he took a slow sip of his tea.

Senjuro's head cocked at his father's words, "She'd mentioned that before, I think she's from Tokyo? That's where she worked before moving here." Shinjuro only shook his head, and the boys looked at him with silent questioning gazes.

"No, before she left for the city, she was a matchmaker here originally..." Shinjuro's voice drifted off and he was seemingly lost in thought.

"When did she leave for the city?" You spoke after a few moments of silence. Truly curious to learn more about the energetic woman.

"Twenty years ago, maybe more? Her husband passed away, and she moved to the city with her boy. She came back when Kyojuro was, maybe seven- Why does it matter?" When the man gave the three of you an irritated scowl, you knew it was time to switch the subject, and it seemed Kyojuro did as well.

"No particular reason, Father." Kyojuro's eyes then met yours, and his face lit up as if he'd thought of the most brilliant idea, "Say (Y/n), why don't we go to the market today? Senjuro mentioned while we were cooking you wanted to make a cake. While we're there, you guys can get the ingredients you need! We also need a few odds and inns, since it's been a week since you last went to town!" His eager voice bounced off of the walls of the dining room and it almost seemed as if his hair was blowing in the wind despite no draft being present in the room. 

You felt a little skeptical about letting him go out so soon after being injured, but almost as if he read your thoughts, he quickly reasured, "I assure you (y/n). I wouldn't propose going out if I didn't think I'd be up to it!" This seemed to satisfy you and you nodded in reply.

"Alright then, we can go a bit after lunch."

"It's so beautiful out, especially with the leaves starting to change color." Senjuro comments with a content smile as the three of you took in the atmosphere the trees that dotted the area provided. 

You hum in agreement before turning to the boy, who was walking by your side, "It truly is, Autumn is one of my favorite seasons for that reason." 

"Yes, I can agree. The cool weather Autumn also brings makes it far more comfortable to work as a slayer compared to summer!" Kyojuro nodded as he joined in on the light-hearted conversation.

"I'm sure it does. Those uniforms don't look like they'd be all that comfortable to work in, especially in the heat." You look up in thought, thinking about the long sleeves and pants of the uniform and how sticky with sweat they must get after each mission.

"They're fine most of the time but can be uncomfortable in the heat, but the fabric is strong and helps combat some injuries so it's a small price to pay!" His voice boomed, scaring some birds out of a nearby tree, but not catching you or Senjuro off guard.

"That reminds me, how did your mission go, big brother?" Senjuro perked up as he awaited his elder brothers answer eagerly. 

"The mission went well! The demon was quite elusive, but I was able to defeat it with minimal casualties." Senjuro, in that moment, looked to his older brother as if he'd hung the Stars and spoke with a gleam in his wide eyes,

"I wish I was strong like you, Kyojuro!" His comment wouldn't have caught you off guard if it didn't seem to have a hidden meaning making you frown.

"Why, do you think you aren't strong, Senjuro?" You quickly wiped the small frown off of your face as he turned to look at you as to not give him the wrong impression.  

"I'm weak... No matter how hard I train, I can't perform flame breathing properly." Senjuro looked down in shame and humiliation. 

You and Kyojuro both felt your hearts constrict to an unpleasant degree, and right when Kyojuro was about to reach out to comfort his younger brother, he realized you'd beaten him to it. You'd already had grabbed the youngest Rengoku by both his shoulders, "Senjuro, look at me." You gently grabbed the young boys chin making him look into your firm unwavering gaze, "You must understand that without failure, success has no true meaning. Just because flame breathing doesn't come easy doesn't make you weak. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses; yours may lay somewhere else."

The boy looked up at you with watery eyes before letting out a ragged breath and asking, "What is my strength (y/n)?" Clearly this had been weighing on the poor child's mind for quite a while. 

"I don't know, that's for you to learn with time Senjuro, but never let anyone tell you, you can't do something. It's never over until you say it is." The boy quickly sprung forward after you finished your speech. His arms circled your waste in a deathly tight grip. You hesitated for a brief moment before settling on hand on his golden locks and another on his back in a comforting manner. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with the boys' sudden affection, just unsure of how to respond.

"Okay... I promise." He mumbled into the soft fabric of your kimono.

Kyojuro stood stuck in place. He felt as if a freezing bucket of water had been poured over him as he watched the two of you . In that moment, despite the fact you looked nothing alike. The two of you reminded him so vividly of his departed mother and himself as a young lad; your calm but firm expression, the way your hand softly caressed Senjuros hair in a comforting manor, and most importantly the wisdom your words held. The way you treated Senjuro also reminded him of the kindness she held, a kindness he'd never thought he'd see in another human being... He almost felt as if he was looking back in time.

"Kyojuro, are you alright?" Your calm tone paired with your slightly furrowed brows pulled Kyojuro out of his reminiscent thoughts.

"Ah, y-yes (y/n)! Why wouldn't I be?" Kyojuro quickly smiles, erasing the surprised expression on his face in an instant. As he looks at the both of you. He noted that it appeared that Senjuros' tears had dried, and the boy seemed at ease.

" I just thought I would ask. You seemed lost in thought." You took a small step towards the male though you maintained a reasonable distance, as you did want to offend the Hashira. This proved to be an unnecessary worry as Kyojuro took a step forward narrowing the space between the two of you before gently taking your smaller hand in his own with a slight squeeze, "Don't worry about me, I was remembering a fond memory." He gave you a small smile, and at that moment, there was a sense of calm and understanding surrounding the both of you.

"That's relieving to hear. Perhaps you would be willing to share this memory with me sometime over tea?" You politely suggested before your eyes narrowed on a piece of lint, which you quickly flicked off his broad shoulders. 

"I would like that! Would you be willing to make that tea you made when you first arrived?" The flame locked man bent his head slightly to the side, catching you gaze once more.

"Yea... whatever you'd like." Despite your calm expression, a blush had spread across your face, and your heartbeat had begun to rapidly increase

The rest of the walk to the was uneventful, and once you arrived to the market, Senjuro decided to split off from you and Kyojuro. He reasoned that you'd be able to get the things you needed faster this way (not that you were in a rush in the first place),and walked off before you could question him further, leaving you and Kyojuro alone to set off in your search for the things on your part of the list. 

"Uh Kyojuro, did you hear that?" You looked around the busy marketplace wondering if you had finally gone mad or if you actualy had heard someone had call your name.

"I didn't hear anything (Y/n)!" Kyojuro says while sporting his usual mile, making you sweat drop slightly. There was no way someone hadn't called your name, right?

"Are you su-"? Your question was cut off by the sound of who you realized to be the woman you'd met the other day, "(L/n)-San, Rengoku-San! Over here!"

"Oh, I suppose you were right (Y/n)! Someone was indeed calling for us." The way Kyojuro laughed self-consciously caught you off guard. You'd taken him for a confident and boisterous man. Being embarrassed about burning rice was understandable but this?

"Yes, let's go greet her. She looks eager to speak with us." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why was she looking at the both of you like that? As if you were an infamous pair out of an old epic.

"Rengoku-San, it's good to see you're back in town and showing (L/n)-San around, aye!" The older woman said with a slight teasing glint before continuing with, "You both look so well together! It reminds me of my days as a matchmaker. Seeing all the lovely young couples prepare for the rest of their lives, it was a truly wonderful thing!" The older woman gushed as she clapped her hands and looked between the two of you.

"Oh, uh - thank you, Toshi-San. How have you been?" Kyojuro answered slightly flustered, but still maintaining his polite demeanor.

"Oh, I've been well dear. Looking at you both remind me so much of Shinjuro and Ruka when they were your age!" The woman looked at you with a reminiscent gaze. 

Kyojuro's eyes widen a fraction at this, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly in interest. He hadn't realized that the woman had known his mother and father that long ago.

"So, when's the wedding?!" The artist grabbed both yours and Kyojuro's hands, practically vibrating you both with her excitement, as you just stood there in shock and Kyojuro with his never wavering grin.

"Mother, please stop harassing those two." An attractive man with tanned skin and slight stubble sighed as he entered the stall, setting down a large wooden crate with a grunt.

"Oh dear, I suppose I did get a bit carried away." The grey-haired woman blushed slightly and laughed releasing the two of you from her hold.

"It's alright, we haven't settled on a date yet, actually." You answer the woman's previous question politely with a raised hand.

"I was surprised when Mother told me about meeting your fiancé." The man, Toshi-San's son directed to Kyojuro as he began to stock the shelves.  

"Only because we thought you were going to see the day you settled down Rengoku-san." Toshi-San added with a slight tease.

"You've always seemed married to your job, whatever that may be. What changed?" Toshi's son stood and flashed Kyojuro with a curious smile, which the man returned. 

"I have always been dedicated to my job. And to answer your question... I suppose some things change, despite how much one might feel uneasy at the idea at first." Kyojuro caught your gaze for a split second before turning back to the man and laughing light heartedly, making your breath catch in your throat. 

'What does he mean by that?'

And scene! Okay, we're getting somewhere now! If you've been paying attention, you might be able to peice together future plot points,or maybe I'm pulling your leg?🤔

This chapter took me a bit to write, as I've been quite busy lately, I'm not sure if I like how, it turned out, but it'll never be perfect. I actually originally wasn't going to have Toshi-Sans son make an appearance at all in the story, but I chose to include him because I was struggling with the conversation between you and Toshi-San, and his characters entrance redirected the conversation. Edited:8/7/23 (I like it much better now lol)

Taisho era secret

Kyojuro & Senjuro: Welcome everyone!

Senjuro: Today's Taisho era secret is about Toshi-San's son, Kentarō.

Kyojuro: I've known Kentarō since I was a young child, and in that time I've learned that while he is quite the artist, he refuses to pick up a paint brush!

Senjuro: But why?

Kyojuro: Well ladies would commission him and ask him to paint them like "French girls" Whatever that means!?

Author:*Whispers in Kyojuros ear

Kyojuro: Oh my! That is quite scandals! Well after time of one girl in particular kept asking he ended up snapping his brush in rage and vowed to never paint again.

Senjuro: Thats unfortunate but big brother, what did they mean by "French girls" is that some sort of western expression?

Kyojuro: Well, uuuuhhhh you see Senjuro-

Author: OKAY- WELL THAT WAS CHAPTER 5! SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

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@tengensimppp @lauraagrace @riia0

[clemkruckinnie]

corey absolutely wants you to tell him you love him during sex. its something he needs to hear. you’re underneath him, arms hooked under his own, holding onto his shoulders. he’s got one of his elbows braced on the side of your head keeping himself up while his other hand is holding onto your leg that’s hooked onto his hip. he’s fucking you so nice and deep that it makes your head spin. his face in your neck and all over your chest, messily kissing and letting his lips drag across your skin as his cute curly hair brushes against your chin. he keeps doing this thing where he’s going slow, then starts to move his hips faster and sharper for a minute before slowing back down again. and he’s moaning so shamelessly against you. he cant help it, he wants to totally lose himself in you if he could. and when you tell him you’re close he groans out a weak “me too. me too, fuck, me too.” and he’s picking up the pace again and he digs his nails into your thigh a little that it stings. and just when he can feel you about to cum, he whispers to you “tell me you love me. say you love me when you cum, i need to… please say it. please please.” so you do. you tell him how much you love him as you’re cumming around him and it’s so overwhelming to him that it makes him cum. hard. his arms go weak and he falls on top of you while he pathetically rocks his hips into yours to work you both through it. he’s moaning and whining into your ear, feeling physically unable to stop himself. and you both lay tangled in each other while he’s buried in you :(( <3

the way i have been reading and rereading this ask all day.

corey just really cherishes any opportunity he gets to be close to you. he’s very much a quality time kind of man, and to him that’s every moment he’s with you. he loves you so much that it threatens to swallow him whole. that’s always who he’s been-all or nothing, head over heels the second he has his sights set on someone. he’s used to it not being reciprocated, until those three words leave your mouth, and his whole world shifts.

“you’re shaking.” you marvel, one arm still wrapped around him, using your free hand to stroke his hair. “corey?”

the care in your voice, the tenderness in your touch, and the sensitivity paired with the fact that he’s still inside of you prove to be too much for him, and you feel wetness dripping onto your chest.

“hey,” you attempt to soothe him, putting your hands on either side of his face to make him look up at you. “i love you.”

he blinks back, briefly untangling an arm from around you to wipe at his face, returning it to its rightful place soon after. “can you tell me again?”

you smile softly, leaning up and kissing him—his forehead, nose, cheeks, browbone, soft, sweet pecks punctuated with an “i love you” between each one. you don’t stop until he laughs above you, that sweet, joyous sound, flashing the smile you’d fallen in love with.

the constant chill of your room hits the two of you again, no longer too preoccupied with your lovemaking to notice. begrudgingly, corey pulls out of you, laying down next to you and pulling your comforter over the two of you. it’s soft, and warm, and smells like you. he feels you all around him, still, and swears this is the closest to heaven he’ll be able to get.

you marvel at his beauty there for a moment, illuminated by the string lights in your room, skin lit with an after sex glow.

“i really wish you could see yourself the way that i do, corey.” you tell him.

corey feels himself choking back up again, but looks into your eyes, full of adoration, and there’s a hope in him—that maybe you love him even a fraction of the way he loves you.

“loving me the way you do helps. just keep doing that.”

you nod against him, exhaustion starting to overpower the both of you.

“that’s the easiest thing i could do.”

[quirkle2]

no way, you haven't seen train to busan yet? i say you're definitely in for a ride 🤩

also hhhh ritsu finally getting his big bro back.. iwnxowmx i love them sm i rarely came across wholesome kaegbros content so thank you for your service 🛐

((i don't think anyone's ever asked this but what are zombie mob's dynamic with reigen and teru after they reunite bcs i am in need of dad reigen and angsty platonic terumob sobs ((also teru and mob's special hand shake hHHHHH SOBS))

-🪻

i have not i should watch it ! looks sick as hell :]

both reigen and teru are ... a little distant with mob as soon as they see that he's a zombie, mostly out of fear of getting bitten, but also just... genuine grief and uncertainty on how to move forward

after just a few days of spending time with him though, they both see a Lot of mob in him, and like i said in that other ask a while ago, they Start To Believe. teru is a lot quicker to warm up to mob, and a lot more willing to get near him sooner than reigen. he misses hugging mob a lot, but he doesn't dare try for a while

when he Does get comfortable touching mob, and when mob seems unbothered by it, he kinda goes full swing into it and reverts back to his old clingy self. mob never seems to mind, though he doesn't do it back except for basic hugs. and also the handshake <3

teru Is a bit starved for returned affection—he desperately wishes mob could like .. compute that and Realize that and at least Attempt to do it back. he misses talking to him, and holding conversations, and seeing him smile. teru misses his smile a lot—he doesn't seem to smile as a zombie

reigen is frankly fuckin devastated bc he's rly not one to believe in a cure (at first, anyway) and this right here feels like a Fraction of what mob used to be, so it's rly rly hard to look at the kid and not get upset about what he Could be looking at instead, had reigen had a better handle on the kageyama's whereabouts when they got separated

reigen calls him "mob" out of instinct and mob, despite going a full year without hearing that name once, instantly turns to reigen in response, attentive. he thinks it's a fluke at first, but over time as it happens again and again he realizes that Yeah, mob recognizes that name and knows reigen is talking to Him specifically, and mob is trying to listen. it's a small piece of proof, for him, that mob is there

when reigen gets more comfy with the circumstances, he settles back into old habits. he ruffles mob's hair and the first time it happens mob looks comically bemused and he like.blinks several times like What The Hell Was That but the second time he does it he seems to recall the sensation and leans into the touch

HILARIOUS to think about mob latching onto old memories, and occasionally he'll stand next to reigen and hold his hand out. and reigen kinda stares at him, a little lost as to why, and on instinct reigen just kinda puts whatever he's holding atm in mob's palms and he seems satisfied w that and simply walks away ???? idk How long it takes him to recognize that mob is holding his hands out waiting to be paid, but it's gonna be hilarious when he realizes it . his memories r rough atm so he doesn't rly remember What he's waiting for, so when reigen gives him literally anything he thinks "ah, that must be it" and carries on.

teru and reigen don't realize it, but tome and ritsu catch on quite quickly—mob actually seems happier, after the reunion ! tome mentions that shigeo seems kinda chipper lately, and more alert, more talkative. ever since seeing teru and reigen again, sections of that rusty brain have turned back online to rifle through memories, and even though it's a little hard to tell, they can see it in his eyes, The Joy

makes ritsu think a lil bit. ritsu had sorta defaulted to the idea that mob didn't recall ever being with teru or reigen to begin with, beforehand. he's not sure why he came to this conclusion—he just never rly thought abt it too hard, over everything else to consider

makes him wonder if mob had been quietly mourning teru and reigen this whole time, quietly missing them, but never having the ability to show it or vocalize it, even to ritsu. or if it's like an out-of-sight, out-of-mind thing, where mob didn't rly think about them until they appeared in front of them, and now he's happy they're here. it's hard to tell

[codename-adler]

i don’t know what anything means anymore and i’m barely out of my third re-watch of the s2 finale. however. i know for a fact that the last shot of Aziraphale on Earth–when the Metatron announces to him that their next project is going to be the Second Coming–is not about the angel looking one last time at Crowley to confirm he was right to choose Heaven. the way Michael Sheen played it… his eyes… no. Crowley is there waiting for Aziraphale to choose him, one last hope, and Aziraphale does.

HE CHOOSES CROWLEY AND I KNOW IT.

as soon as Metatron reveals Heaven’s upcoming plans, Aziraphale knows shit’s about to hit the fan just like in s1. you can see the panic in his eyes. and when he looks back at Crowley? he understands everything. and despite knowing Crowley is still there because he’s waiting for Aziraphale to wake the fuck up, he has to deceive him. he resigns himself to look like the bad guy in his demon’s eyes, he resigns himself to hurt him in the worst way possible, just so he can take on the sacrifice alone. just so he can undo whatever Heaven is planning without anyone knowing whose side he really is on. anyone, including Crowley. in a fraction of a second, Aziraphale realizes how misplaced his trust in Metatron and Heaven was, realizes how right Crowley was, and how toxic the relationship he’s just put himself back in is. he realizes all this, and yet.

and yet. he’s the only angel up for the job. because he’s the only true angel left. (except maybe for Muriel. who he lets run his bookshop. on Earth. with Crowley. coincidence? i think not.) Aziraphale is the only angel who has never lost his unconditional love, his goodness, his angelic instinct to protect; Her love, Her goodness. that is his strength. his own brand of courage.

so in that split second when Aziraphale looks back at Crowley, it’s not to hurt him. it’s not to reassure himself. it’s not to drive his point home. it’s for two things.

one, to give himself strength. Aziraphale’s strength, as i’ve said, is his love, and what, who, could possibly contain more of his love than Crowley himself? You were right, I was wrong, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m doing this for you, for us, for them. that’s what the look means.

two, to warn Crowley. does his demon necessarily understand the look, the warning? no. his ‘exactly’ isn’t the same as Crowley’s ‘exactly’, we know that. but Aziraphale is a hopeless hopeful. he trusts that Crowley will get it eventually. you watch Aziraphale, you can feel him trying to pour every alarm bell possible into his gaze as he sends Crowley his last look. You were right, I was wrong, shitstorm’s coming and everyday it’s getting closer, hang on and hang tight my dear Crowley. that’s what the look means.

so i have no hecking clue what s3 has in store for us. i have wishes, many many wishes. fears, too. many many fears. but i am quite certain that Aziraphale has got our backs, and Crowley’s. he’s not going into this blind. he’s got his eyes quite wide open. a demon showed him that. and he’s got a few more tricks up his sleeve. he showed us that.

he has faith in Crowley. he has faith in humanity. in us. let’s have a bit of faith in him in return, shall we?

[voidofgrace]

So, I've done a couple play-throughs of Baldur’s Gate 3 now, and I have some thoughts regarding companion romances; namely, Astarion and Gale. Warning, this will contain spoilers.

In my first game, I romanced Astarion (because obviously), and I loved the way they handled his traumas, his growth, and the nuances of his character. I could pen an essay, but I doubt there is anything I could say that hasn't been said already.

My second game, I decided to romance Gale. I won't lie, I mostly did it because thanks to the weird way he was bugged, I got a flag for his act 2 romance cut scene in my other game. Out of curiosity, I went through it, and it was honestly so sweet, and kind of sad. After that, I wanted to see how the rest of his romance played out.

And folks, I hate to say it (no I don't), I loved his romance more than Astarion’s. By the end of Astarion’s story, while wonderful, I didn't want to be with him, but just like, protect him and help him live his life and just learn how to be free. The revelation of his headstone, and his age of death. He was so young when he was murdered and turned, and it's so heartbreaking.

Also, the man literally says he really didn't like you at all at first. I mean, fair, but was that really the time to say "I thought you were a total loser, but ily now ❤." Kinda rude, Astarion.

And then there's Gale. The man who loved his Goddess so much, he tried to return a piece of magic to her he thought she had lost. Now don't get me wrong, he did it as much out of hubris as he did love, but in doing so, he wanted to earn a fraction of the love he felt for her in return.

This is a man who was sentenced to death by the woman he loved, as a means to an end that she and the other gods could achieve.

And what does this man do, when thinking about how he was close to the end?

He creates a sky full of stars, a pocket of something beautiful in a place that's cursed. And he tells you he loves you, laments about how he wishes he could do it properly. He gives you a glimpse of his life in Waterdeep, the place where he is happiest, because he wants to share that with you.

It is so wonderfully sweet, but it's also soured by the fact that he believes he has no choice but to carry out Mystra’s will. He believes he needs to be forgiven for his transgression against her, and that forgiveness will only be granted with his death.

Then we get the the start of act 3, and the circus. When you take Gale through the Dryad's test, the questions felt very shallow, especially when compared to the ones given with Astarion. What kind of food is Gale? Really? At least, until the very last question: what is Gale’s greatest flaw. One of the answers you can choose is "He thinks that he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead."

His response? He agrees... As someone who has struggled with mental health and similar thoughts, that one hit home. But then, in the next sentence, he shows that he has hope. Maybe it's not true. Maybe fate can be defied.

Moving on to later in act 3, there was the revelation of the Crown of Karsus, a relic from Karsus' attempt at achieving Godhood that survived. And Gale sees the possibilities that crown opens up. A chance to do what the other gods refused to do - what Mystra refused to do. He saw the chance to save Faerûn, to save his friends, and to save the person he loves (which again, Mystra refused to do, in his eyes), Ao be damned.

But, he also sees it as a way to finally be worthy. Worthy of the love he had been denied by Mystra, deserving of the love you have given him. After all, in the past, it was only ever because of his power that he was ever deemed worthy for anything, and what greater power is there than that of a god?

And that is HEARTBREAKING. The man only thought he was worth anything because of his power, because that had been the only thing people had really cared for about him. And when you tell this man you love him just for him, not because he's powerful or because he could he a god, but because he's a sweet man who loves books, who sometimes writes poetry, who loves curling up by the fire with his cat, a book and a glass of wine, he turns down that power. Show him care and love for who he is, and the man shines.

How could anyone NOT love Gale?

But yeah, Gale is 10/10. And Mystra sucks.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[arkus-rhapsode]

Gaming Hot Take of the Day: I feel like companies and costumers really gotta do better with managing expectations.

Now look I’m a bit more lenient of fans cause in a lot of ways, fans enthusiasm is often what keeps a piece of media alive. You got a game like paper Mario TTYD and it’s almost 20 years old now. And for those 20 years you could only legally play it on a GameCube. Fans of that game kept it alive-they were the ones making fan art and games inspired by it (shout out to Bug Fables) hell it’s been a minute from my smash bros fanfic days but it was the first two paper Mario games I remember often being used as the world building for those fics interpretation of the mushroom kingdom.

But there’s recently been a miasma around the sales of the remake. Namely it’s not cracked two million despite all the time it’s been on the market. Now there are factors you can look at like it didn’t release in a holiday season, the switch is on its eighth year, and it’s a remaster which really tend to have a lack of enthusiasm compared to a brand new release.

But for a lot of Paper Mario fans, this game coming back was a holy grail-that if it returned that it would do incredibly well and send a message to corporate. And it did, in Nintendo’s own words, “solid.” Nothing spectacular but clearly not a failure. You can probably guess that like Metroid or DMC, the answer is this type of game does have a bit of a cap on people who are actually interested in dropping $60 for a game despite how iconic the property is.

However, we’re not just talking about luxury products were talking about art and art is often times is tied up in people’s emotions. And sometimes it can be disappointing when there are these great games that only do a fraction of something like Pokémon Scarlet/Violet. A game objectively broken and yet still makes bank. So yes, while I wish more fans were realistic about what a game “deserves,” I understand them. And I think their passion and enthusiasm keeps games alive.

But then there’s companies. Oh lord do I have some opinions on their unrealistic expectations. I know I harped on Nintendo but at the very least that’s a company that at least acknowledges anything of theirs that breaks a million is pretty decent. Meanwhile you got EA and Activision who just abandon properties people love in the name of evergreen money printing ventures.

And boy the marketing doesn’t help. There is so many game trailers these days that always feel kinda flat and I don’t know why I should invest in this. Or if it’s a story driven game where they spoil everything in the trailer.

Look I understand that these companies are businesses they can’t make 300 games at a time and expect to stay afloat. I’m not saying they need to revive every IP. But there’s gotta be some middle ground. I think a game can be a success if you manage your budget, man power, and development cycle more efficiently and pair it with decent marketing. Not everything will sell like Call of Duty and that’s okay. But no it’s always go big or go home.

There’s stuff you can do to mitigate some of this. Make games more accessible and available (Nintendo really needs this lesson) so that people have the opportunity to play these and become fans even if no new game happens. Focus on stronger marketing of what the game is about and what can be expected. Not just teasing with cinematic for an overly long hype cycle. If a game is gonna be exclusive to one system you’re probably gonna need to account for working with a limited user base (Hello Square Enix).

I think of myself as someone who is pretty good at managing my expectations, but that was something I had to do myself. Game companies sure didn’t do it for me.

[latent-thoughts]

I keep thinking about that post about Loki possibly returning for Avengers 5 and Secret Wars, and while mainly I'm rolling my eyes and internally screaming "please, no more", a part of me is bitterly laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Like, really?? How many "one more time"s does he need? How many "one more time"s do they need to do the same thing over and over to him? Have they not sent their message about how they all feel about him, loud and clear?

I also keep thinking about Tom's quotes in the article. He says, "Loki is a splendid torch which I've got hold of for the moment".... but didn't the show already make it painfully clear that Loki was out and Sylvie was in? That Loki was lame and Sylvie is bigger better badder, yadda yadda yadda? Why do we need a rehash of that? Are they going to literally have a "torch passing" ceremony, where Loki passes a torch to Sylvie (except he stumbles and falls and immediately starts crying, of course!)?

And he also says, "and I want to make it burn as brightly as I can before passing it on to future generations".... but wasn't the show supposed to be the end-all beat-all of Loki and the extent of his powers? What could be better than Loki bound up in a tree for all eternity, alone, exiled, isolated, and crying, keeping that tree watered forever with his never-ending stream of tears? Is Tom secretly implying that the ending of the series actually sucked? Would he DARE to do that?!?! Wouldn't anything else be an insult to the brilliance and creativity and hard work that was The Ending Of That Show?? And also, is he really so naive to think that any writer or director would actually allow HIS Loki to even be a fraction as powerful as we all know Loki is supposed to be?? Oh Tom, please!!!

Sorry for the sarcasm overdose, but I'm just so done. It's comic relief to me now. I don't think anything they could do could make me care again. (But the sad thing is, I WANT to care again! 😭) They are just beating a decomposing corpse of a dead horse now. But I will say, it is interesting that he said "for future generations", seemingly implying the next torch bearer will be younger? Sylvie Di Martino, or whatever her name is, is not that young. I think she's at least dragging 35 behind her on a trailer hitch, so maybe they will bring on Kid Loki? I wouldn't really care either way, but at least Kid Loki would give me some kind of peace. I will NEVER call Sylvie Loki. NEVER. Not after how obnoxious they all were about her. The writers/directors had a chance to build a bridge with the Loki fandom, but they burned it instead. So, no.

Well, anyway, Avengers 5 is a long time away. There's no script, no director, and even after that it will probably undergo at least 2 years of rewrites, so we have a long time to not think about it.

And God bless you if you actually made it through all of this!! I wish you all the best, and love and comfort and peace @latent-thoughts !

❤️❤️❤️

I feel ya, Anon. *HUGS*

Also, I've stopped reading or listening to anything Tom says these days. He's nothing like the Tom of 10-12 yrs ago, which I mourn. Because he seems to have forgotten everything about Loki from that time, including every detail and input he himself put into Loki. It's like he has been supplanted by a Disney-Marvel bot. 😔

Whatever they'd do with Loki in future, I know it's not going to be good. I had some hope prior to the series, but it was crushed in the end. Loki isn't the Loki he used to be from the 2011-2013 era, he's unrecognisable. I just call him Larry in my head.

Hence, I'm done with Marvel now (I assume most of his original fans are as well). They can keep announcing that Loki will be in their future projects, because he's their cash cow, but we're disillusioned and over it.

Personally, I'm simply bunking in the 2011-2013 era. The fics are good there. And my imagination is limitless. 🥹

~Latent-Thoughts

[girl-next-door-writes]

You've Got That Something

Characters: Ominis Gaunt x reader

Summary: Something has changed, something almost imperceptible, and now Ominis is left longing to reach out in a way he has always avoided.  

Word Count: 1593 words

A/N: I have a few feelings about this character. Hope you enjoy.

The early autumn sun shone through the window to his right, casting a warmth over his cheek that he loved to bask in. He had sat in the same seat since first year, partly because he liked to be a creature of habit, but mostly because the sunlight combined with the scent of old parchment was soothing enough to lull him to sleep when combined with Professor Binns drone. He felt relaxed here, as if the whole world slowed down around him for an hour or so.

This year however, something seemed off, something unsettled him. He was sitting in his usual seat, his parchment and quill on the desk. The shaft of sunlight warmed his skin, and his ears slowly began to tune out the words of the professor until they became white noise. The scent of ink and leather mixed pleasantly in his nostrils. So why did he have this strange sense of nerves?  

With a soft frown on his lips, Ominis leaned his chin on his hand, trying to pinpoint his discomfort. Something to his left, that’s where this strange tingling sensation began. He could feel the hairs on his arm raise beneath his shirt sleeves as he tentatively leaned in that direction.

You had sat beside Ominis regularly for the last few years, and he had appreciated the times you had shared your notes with him or ensured he awoke just before the end of class so he would not be late for his next one. Although he would not refer to you as a ‘friend’, you were something more than an acquaintance, and your presence had never bothered him before. Perhaps you had changed something about yourself and his failure to place it was what caused his irritation.

He could hear your soft, steady breathing and he did not need to use his wand to know that you had drifted off amidst the scintillating story Professor Binns was imparting to his class. Imagining you casually leant on the desk while you slumbered brought a soft smile to his lips, amusing him for some reason. Focusing a little more, he could smell the familiar scent of your soap, your shampoo, the two mingling together to make an intoxicating aroma that he believed would make a rather successful perfume, if it wasn’t available as one already.

A sudden desire to sit closer to you overtook him, and before he could catch himself, his arm had brushed against yours and a pleasant shiver ran through him. Well. That was certainly something new. He had been so busy attempting to analyze this new experience that he failed to notice his movement had woken you rather suddenly.

You sat up rigidly, your arm flailing and your hand coming to rest on his for a moment as your fight or flight responses calmed within you. As soon as you realised that you were not in any danger, you removed your hand and gave him an embarrassed chuckle.

“Sorry about that, Ominis. Must have dropped off for a second.” You whispered sheepishly.

“It’s alright.” He returned, although internally it was as if a warning siren had gone off and everything was launched into panic stations. He rarely allowed any form of physical contact from people, not wishing to be seen as weak, but the warmth of your skin on his, even for that fraction of a second, had changed him irreparably. He felt as if his nerve endings were all aflame, and the only way the agony could be quashed was by your touch. This was most certainly an unfortunate turn of events.

The ghost of your touch haunted him. He would run his fingertips over the back of his hand, believing you must have left some physical mark. How could a moment which occurred weeks ago still plague him?

“Ominis, mate, I don’t think it should be this colour.” Sebastian’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he hummed in annoyance. He hated potions.

“And what colour, prey tell, is this concoction supposed to be? And how do you propose we rectify this?” He snarked, already frustrated with this brew.

“Hey, don’t get your pants in a twist, I was just saying, I think we might have gone a bit wrong somewhere.” Seb turned his attention back to the recipe, trying to figure out what they had missed.

“Ooooh, looks like you gentlemen may need a little help.” Your voice had Ominis straightening up his already fairly impeccable posture. He turned in your direction, all hint of irritation banished from his face.

“I fear it is rather a case of the blind leading the blind over here.” He sighed, his joke earning him a chuckle from you. The sound made his chest swell and he felt the desire to make you laugh again.

“Let me see.”

Ominis was aware of you moving behind him, coming to stand between himself and Sebastian as you peered into the bubbling cauldron.

“Ah, you haven’t put the sneezewort in there. It’ll change the colour, but be careful, you only need a sprinkle. Here, if you grind some like this…”

Ominis’ world tilted on its axis as he felt your fingers brush his, placing a pestle and mortar in his hands. When he failed to actually grind the small white flowers, you had wrapped your hand around his and helped him, completely unaware that your touch had caused the poor boy to entirely shut down.

“Right, now, if you pop a pinch in the potion, you should be back on track.” He could hear the smile in your voice, and he wondered if it was aimed at him or Sebastian.

Ominis was so distracted by this thought that he did not pay attention to how much sneezewort he picked up and tossed into the mixture.

There was a loud bang and suddenly his face was covered with a sticky substance. Realising that if he was covered, then you would be too, he immediately began to apologise profusely.

“Don’t worry, Gaunt. Green might just be my colour.” You had chuckled, reaching up with a tissue to wipe some of the potion from his cheek.

“You three, go get yourselves cleaned up.” The crisp tone of Professor Sharp’s voice rang out and Ominis felt you pull away, leaving him craving more of your touch.

Sitting in the Great Hall, he could hear the scratching of quills on parchment, the soft whispering of those daring enough to risk the wrath of the professors in charge of study hall, and the frustrated sigh that escaped you as you studied beside him. Whatever assignment you were working on appeared to have you rather perplexed, and he wished he could give some insight that would ease your worries, but he had found himself struggling to form coherent sentences around you since the incident in potions class.

Ominis felt you shift beside him, your knee brushing his for a fraction of a second, but that was all it took for his entire body to scream out for you. The warmth of your touch, the tenderness, it made him feel so happy deep down in his soul, made him believe that true happiness not only existed but that he was capable of having such a thing.

Sebastian looked up from his scribbling and smirked. His friend was definitely not as skillful at masking his new found feelings as he thought. The light dusting of redness on his cheeks, the way his head tilted towards you that let Sebastian know Ominis was listening intently to you, it was incredibly obvious that the Gaunt boy was infatuated.

Imelda nudged Sebastian and nodded over to Ominis with a grin. Seb gave her a warning look, not wanting Ominis embarrassed. As the two of them watched, their friends hand came to rest on the table, fingers twitching slightly every so often.

“This is painful.” Imelda whispered, rolling her eyes but unable to keep her attention away from what was happening for long.

Ominis’ fingers stretched out, as if he were just relieving some tension there, and his little finger grazed against the cuff of your robe. And there it stayed for what felt like an eternity.

Sebastian held his breath as he noticed you glance down at Ominis’ hand, the corners of your lips quirking up. Slowly, you extended your little finger, until it came to rest pressed against his.

Imelda’s eyes widened in excitement and Sebastian punched her in the arm to stop her from saying something.

Ominis’ heart was racing as he felt your finger next to his. Perhaps it was an accident, but then you hadn’t pulled away. Wanting to test his ‘accident’ theory, he hooked his little finger over yours and waited with bated breath. Gosh, it was hot. Had it always been this warm in the Great Hall?

Your hand shifted, and suddenly he felt your palm pressed to his. You had turned your hand, so the back now rested on the table and had interlaced your fingers with his, giving him a light squeeze as if to ask if this was okay.

Ominis dipped his head, failing to hide the goofy smile that now pulled at his lips as he squeezed your hand in return. He was not the sort of person who would usually indulge in such a public display of affection, but having your hand in his finally calmed him, allowed him to actually focus on his assignment.

That was until Sebastian fell off the bench when Imelda sought payback for the arm punch.

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

Nightmares and stains

Collab. drabble w/ @ro-valerius (Tofu) !

Cold, dead eyes stared deep into their own. Miyu was frozen in fear, only able to watch as a disembodied head crept closer to them. Every impulse told them to run, move, or do something. But they couldn’t move a muscle. 

Miyu began to move, but not of their own will. Their arm lifted up, the knife in their hand pointed in the direction of the familiar head. Their hand turned, knife aimed at their own throat.

They weren’t in control of their body; their body didn’t belong to them. 

“You’re just like me,” they heard a rasp in their ears before the knife pierced. 

–

A needlepoint piercing through the pad of their finger brought Miyu out of their daze.

“Ah, shit,” Miyu hissed under their breath as droplets of blood dripped onto the blanket they were busily working on with Tofu — a project they had pressured him encouraged him to help them work on to help keep him busy. It seemed the one who was falling behind currently, however, was them. 

Tofu looked over at them and tilted his head. His eyes flickered to where the blood was coming from. His first instinct was to reach out to heal the small injury, but Ro had confiscated his stone when they had returned from the pirate endeavor. He knew that it would be a poor way to make up for his mistake on the ship, but he couldn’t help but want to do anything he could to make it up to them. 

“You okay…?” he asked softly.

Miyu held their finger to their lips, their brows twisted with anxiety as they stared down at the droplets of blood on the blanket. 

They remembered so much blood.

Miyu shut their eyes for a moment as they fought the tightening in their chest, taking in a deep breath before they slowly let it out. Reluctantly, they nodded. Following that shortly after, they shook their head no.

“Talk to me about it…?” Tofu prompted gently. Quickly, he signed ‘Or sign’ in case they weren’t ready to say what was bothering them out loud; he knew that was how he dealt with his own vulnerability. 

The left corner of their lip lifted a fraction at Tofu’s offer to hear them out through sign. While they hadn’t necessarily mastered the language, they were proficient enough to communicate. They’ll take a few misspellings and grammatical errors over getting choked up while talking. 

“Afraid,” they tentatively signed back. “I still see…” Miyu paused with great uncertainty. 

“When I close my eyes, he’s there. Every night.” 

Tofu reached over and pulled them into a hug. After a moment of hesitation, he kissed the top of their head gently.

“He can’t hurt you, or anyone else, anymore,” he murmured softly into their hair. A deep sigh escaped him. “I wish I could help with your dreams, but I can at least be here when you wake up.”

Miyu leaned into the hug, but their eyes remained downcast. 

“But he did. He hurt all of you. And I’ll keep seeing him in my head and know that. And that… “ they began to speak out loud, keeping their trembling hands busy by fidgeting with the stitchings of the blanket. They could just redo it later on.

“And that… I hurt you. I hurt all of you. I see him telling me I’m just like him, and I really am no better than him. I’ll always be an extension. I shouldn’t have gone on…”

They trailed off as they heard a tiny tear. Whoops. Fidgeted too much with the blanket. 

“You are nothing like him. You weren’t the one that hurt us. Just because we went there for your sake does not mean that it is your fault. If the blame lies with anyone, it’s me. I decided on this course of action, I got everyone else involved, I…killed your sister. All of it, I did that. Not you,” he said, letting his arms fall away from them.

Miyu reached out to grab Tofu’s hand, the other guiding his opposite cheek to turn his head to keep him focused on them. Though their eyes glistened with the beginning of tears, they evenly held their stare.

“You did what you had to do. You did the right thing caused by my own… stupidity. And I… I’m grateful for that. For you.” 

“He would have just gone and hurt someone else, if not for you, and would have gotten away with it. In the end, this world is better off without someone who would make others suffer for his own pleasure.” Tofu’s eyes remained fixed to theirs, his tone calm. “You did right by trying to protect your sister, you couldn’t have known what came after.”

They tried to hold their gaze. It fell with the tears that spilled down their cheeks.

“By the time I left that place, it was my fourth opportunity. Three times I could have killed him myself and escaped, but I failed to do that. In the end, I failed to protect her. And only the gods know how many other people I failed to protect.” 

They sniffed, wiping their eyes with their sleeve. 

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being selfish talking about all of this now. I guess I just haven't been sleeping well.”

“Taking a life is not easy, especially for the first time.” Tofu drew in a deep breath. “I’ve had my share of failures. Some more personal than others. But, something I had to learn is that, even if you fail, over and over, if you are trying to save everyone you can, you save more people than if you decide not to try at all. It…doesn’t make the losses better, but it helps me keep my head on straight, keeps me from giving up altogether.”

He was quiet for a moment. 

“If I had given up back then, I never would have been able to save you.”

Miyu fell silent as Tofu spoke, the quiet extending several beats following his last statement as it hung heavily in the air. 

They brought his hand up to their lips, and they left a gentle kiss against his knuckles. 

“Think it's worth it to save a pirate’s trash?” they mumbled quietly, voice slightly muffled from their lips still being pressed to the back of his hand. 

“You are my greatest treasure,” Tofu said softly.

Miyu stilled, and a warmth flushed across their cheeks. They turned their head to look at him again, staring as they began to consider something. Miyu interlocked their fingers with his, then leaned in to kiss him. Tofu leaned in to return the kiss, hesitantly at first.

With a jolt, he pushed away, leaning over the edge of the bed as a heavy amount of blood erupted from his mouth. The motion to keep the damage to a minimum brought him over the edge and onto the floor to his hands and knees. As a pained groan escaped his throat, he gripped his chest tightly with one hand.

Miyu’s expression paled. They leapt across the bed, grabbing a talisman on the nightstand before they hopped onto the ground to kneel beside Tofu. With one hand, they held the talisman to his chest, while the other smoothed the hair out of his face as he heaved out blood. 

“D-Daen!” They yelled out in a panic, the severity of the amount of blood that spilled from his mouth alarming them. Had it gotten worse? There was only one way they could be sure. It was only after they yelled the pixie’s name did they recall the bell, and they grabbed it and fervently rang it.

The pixie forwent the fanfare once more at the panic in Miyu’s voice and the frantic nature of the ringing. Upon arrival, they looked around to find them, fluttering over and holding out their tiny hands with uncertainty. Seeing Tofu’s predicament, they flitted about, examining him carefully. They noted the miqo’te holding a talisman to his chest with satisfaction.

“H-hey. You’re doing great, Dear One. I-it’s not any worse than it was before, but it’ll come in waves like this until the magic is out of his system. It’s alright, it will pass, as much as it sucks…” they murmured gently, reaching out with a small hand to pat Miyu on the head. 

They fluttered back over to Tofu, placing a hand softly on his shoulder and letting out a small gasp. They turned back to Miyu, trying not to let anything show on their face as they discretely wiped the blood off their hand. 

“I’ll get Blomma to take care of his injury, keep the talisman there until it dissolves. H-he must have broken a stitch or two when he rolled off the bed, but Blomma can handle it and he’ll be fine, so don’t panic, alright?” they said in as soothing of a tone as they could before they disappeared with a twirl.

Uncertain of what to say, they responded to Daen Lad with a nod before they disappeared. 

The hand which dabbed at Tofu’s blood smeared mouth with a wet rag quivered as their anxieties overtook them. Despite the shaking of their limbs, they tried to keep the hand that held the talisman steady. 

Miyu tilted their head to try and look over Tofu’s expression, attempting to flash him a gentle smile.

“You know… it seems that every time we’ve kissed, I’ve gotten you to spit up blood,” Miyu jested, attempting to ease their nerves with a joke. 

“It’s not- It’s just…bad timing is all,” Tofu managed between gasps. As the talisman dissipated, he sat up straighter, one hand still pressed to his chest while the other sat across his thigh. He glanced down at the blood on the floor and sighed. “I am…ruining her room.”

A faint chuckle sounded from Miyu.

“Hm, well, we have plenty of time for better timing. And you don’t need to worry about ruining anything – just getting yourself better. Remember, Blomma is a miracle worker with stains,” they assured, resting their hand down on top of Tofu’s. Miyu moved to try and help Tofu back up onto the bed. “I’ll get this cleaned up. You just sit and look pretty, hm?”

“Can’t be takin’ your job, now, can I? I can sit, though,” Tofu said with a soft smile as he made his way back onto the bed with their help. 

Miyu’s face warmed. With a faint huff, it seemed they were successfully silenced.

A soft knock came at the door, though Blomma didn’t wait for anyone to open it for her, instead just letting herself in with a basket of medical supplies. She smiled warmly at Miyu, trying to ease their worries at least a little, seeing as Tofu was back on the bed and not on the floor as Daen Lad had so frantically explained.

“Alright, stubborn, shirt off, lemme see what you’ve done,” she said as she gave Tofu a onceover. Tofu groaned and pulled his shirt off as carefully as he could, trying not to move his injured shoulder too much. 

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose-”

“Yeah yeah, lemme get a look at it,” she interrupted, bonking him on the head lightly with the basket. She glanced at the blood on the floor, but tried not to acknowledge it. 

Miyu welcomed Blomma with a faint smile. 

“I’ll get some more rags to clean up,” they said as they went to step out – not just to grab more rags, but to give Kore a heads up on what to expect. Frankly, if they were in her position, they’d properly panic seeing the pool of blood on the floor. 

Also, they were in dire need of a good hug right now. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Tofu’s smile dropped as he hung his head. He let out a low moan and pressed his hand against his chest once more as the remnants of the episode rippled across his nerves.

“See, this is why I call you stubborn… You just can’t let them know how bad it is, can you?” Blomma murmured, undoing the bandages around his torso. She let out a sigh of relief that it was only the top two stitches; it would be a quick patch up.

“It’s…fine. They don’t need to know, and it’s not that bad,” he murmured. Blomma bonked him on the head again with her hand. “H-hey stop that!” 

“Let them in, Tofu. They love you, and you love them. I know it’s scary but… Let them in.”

Miyu let themself in the room with several more rags, along with a platter of popoto salad for Tofu’s lunch.

“Hey, how was it?” Miyu said, their eyes trailing over to Tofu’s back. There was a little pang in their chest as they looked over the injury. They hadn’t quite gotten a look at it before…

"Just a couple stitches, not too bad. This…I can handle. All that magic nonsense…" Blomma trailed off as she applied a medicinal ointment to the injury, earning a pained wince from the viera. Miyu averted their eyes to the plate of food, and they managed a smile. Blomma gave them a patient smile as she set to wrapping the wound up once more.

“Anyways, you’ll need to eat. No complaints, else I’ll spoon feed you myself!”

"H-hey I can eat on my own, thank you," Tofu grumbled as he looked away. "...Thanks." 

Miyu’s smile grew by a fraction, a soft warmth in their eyes. They brushed a hand against his cheek in thanks, then went ahead to clean up the stain on the ground. 

Hell as it may be as of late, they had a feeling things will work out okay. This stain will fade.