#bark....s.... is anyone around? ;m;

[reallyromealone]

haikyuu x m!nezuko!reader? Readers always chewing on bread, giving free headpats and doesn’t talk much. Could be karasunos manager? Everyone loves them and shit (I don’t know how to make requests)😭

Title: the cute manager

Fandom haikyuu!!!

Warnings: male reader, fluff, cute, reader has personality of Nezuko

Notes: none

☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️

(Name) munched on some sweet bread as he watched the practice match, water bottles beside him as Kiyoko and Yachi went over their notes, neither paying the other teen to much mind as you see, (name) was mainly here for moral support and because Daichi was incredibly over protective of his younger brother.

"Oh, thank you (name)" Kiyoko said as the two girls were offered bread by the other, somehow he had an endless supply of sweet bread "he makes it himself in the mornings" was what Daichi said once but this much?

"(Name)? Could you be a dear and refill the water bottles with cold water?" Yachi asked the other who looked excited and determined, nodding with little sparkles around him as he took the container filled with water bottles and darted out "we didn't..tell him where it was yet" oh boy, well hopefully he comes back.

The training camp was huge, the other schools playing or doing their own thing as (name) wandered around trying to find where to fill the water bottles "oh? Is that the younger Sawamura?" (Name) looked over at the voices go see oikawa and kuroo looking at him and (name) set the container down and waved, munching on bread as the two captains wandered to him "long time no see shorty!" Kuroo teased as oikawa mumbled something about stealing him to Aoba joasai but all who knew of his brother knew that it would be a very stupid idea.

After all, who dares take karasunos mascot?

"Still eating bread I see?"

Nod nod

"Where are you off too?" Oikawa asked and (name) pointed his thumb to the bottles and the two nodded.

(Name) was hoisted onto Kuroos back as oikawa held the bottles,(name)s shortness making him easy for lifting and carrying "oh... I'm out of bread..." (Name) mumbled as they got to the water spot kuroo setting him down as the two captains looked curious, rarely did anyone hear (name) speak as kuroo barked out a laugh "of course that's what you worry about!" As kuroo patted his head, the captains helping him with his water bottles before letting him go back to his team where Tanaka whined "(name)! There you are!" The bald teen was on the bench holding ice to his head, whining about needing their precious mascot to help him as (name) wandered to his bag and pulled out two rolls of bread and shoved one on his mouth before giving Tanaka one, patting his head happily.

'fuzzy wuzzy was a bear...' (name) thought jokingly as Tanaka praised him.

(Name) returned to his spot as the team chugged their water and chatted with fukurodani about their plays, (name) listening as Tanaka and Hinata rabled about their plays.

Just a normal day for (name).

[arachine]

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.  

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless. 

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing. 

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving. 

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin. 

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts. 

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you. 

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual. 

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood. 

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him.  For him to have and hold, to keep safe. 

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak. 

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.  

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal. 

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again. 

“Can I kiss you down here?” 

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive. 

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him. 

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head. 

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth. 

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good. 

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks. 

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula. 

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle. 

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality. 

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air. 

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock. 

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed. 

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway. 

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs. 

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed. 

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears. 

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax. 

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming. 

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force. 

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue. 

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state. 

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed. 

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth. 

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.” 

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe. 

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining. 

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him. 

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it. 

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected. 

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all. 

© arachine 2023

[hhnguyen]

make me proud

Bringing my Sully Reader series to a bittersweet, yet hopefully comforting end.  

♢ Pairing: Tuktirey x Oldest sister!Reader, Sully family x Oldest sister!Reader

♢ Word count: 3.2k 

♢ Genre: angst, sibling love, fluff, grief - Warnings: cursing, major character death

⌲ Description: Time was passing by, and with hazy memories Tuk finds herself reminiscing about the person her sissy once was. 

M A S T E R L I S T

R e c o m m e n d e d   p l a y l i s t : 

⌲ ashes - Celine Dion ⌲ brother - Kodaline ⌲ the nights - Chlara  ⌲ the call - Regina Spektor

“Hello there,” Grinning, Tuktirey watched from a safe distance at the insistent yapping from a nest of Viperwolf pups. 

This pack specifically was only a couple of months old, but friendlier than those residing further away from her village, thus more used to the comings and goings of the Omitikaya and not trying to kill anyone who came too near.

Tuk found herself visiting the energetic pups several times a week, always making sure their protective mother and pack weren’t too near when she snuck closer than anyone would recommend. 

But she was confident in her abilities to protect herself, the bow slung over her body never left behind when outside the borders of her home. Not to mention the two extra daggers strapped to each thigh with firm leather holsters. 

Allowing herself a couple more moments of silent admiration, she swallowed back a giggle as one of the bravest of the pups came bouncing over in her direction, stumbling clumsily over its legs and trotting the last couple of feet before rubbing its leathery body against her ankle, no sign of viciousness present. 

Bending down to give the creature a little scratch behind its ears, the wolf gave a yip in satisfaction, tail thumping against the ground until a far-off howl sounded. 

Forgetting Tuk’s presence all the pups started to howl in reply and she used their distraction to swiftly turn back around and climb up the tree she had come from, safely keeping herself a distance away as the rest of the pack came running through the bushes with their newest prey for the day, growls mixed in with the barks of the youngest. 

With one last glance, Tuktirey started her short journey upwards before giving a sharp whistle. 

A screech replied her quickly, a shadow flying over her only for a few seconds before landing down on the large branch before her, leaves fluttering down the ground from its appearance hidden within. 

“Hey there boy,” Tuk trailed a gentle hand down her Ikran’s neck, somewhat feeling a little melancholic today, tracing the midnight blue skin with yellow and green marks. “Mawey Atanzaw.”

The old ikran listened, calming down and nudging his head against her hands as she smiled, nuzzling him back. She wasn’t the only one seemingly restless today. 

Atanzaw himself was aware of what day it was, having acted impatient from morning until now. 

Oh, what a shock that day had been for everyone; Tuk’s iknimaya was a moment still prone to come up in discussion to this day, four years later. 

She had followed the same rites of passage as all her family before, making it all the way up to the Hallelujah Mountains without much issues. And just when Tuk thought she had found her bond, Atanzaw had swooped down from the sky like the vicious beast that he was known for. 

Chasing away her first prospective Ikran and snarling at her. 

No one had seen the animal since your death nearly seven years ago, the ikran having taken to the skies and never seen again after your body was brought back to Metkayina village to be buried with the ancestors. 

She had been frozen to the core, all reason of what she was doing vanishing, until the realization that the ikran wanted her to fight; prove her worth to become his newest rider. 

An occurrence that had never happened before in the history of her clan. 

Once a rider died, it was well known their mounts refused to take any other. 

But there she had been, faced with the fiercely loyal best of her long passed oldest sister. 

“You want to see her, don’t you?” Tuktirey whispered, gently tracing the lines of his face as Atanzaw scuffed. “How about a little flight, then we’ll go.” 

Swinging herself up on the saddle, the ikran didn’t need any more direction to follow their usual flight route circling her home forest. 

Leaning forward to rest her whole body upon the warm skin of her mount, Tuk took a deep breath; eyes closing and feeling the wind whip past her as they soared above the trees. 

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in a beautiful picture of soft oranges, pinks and yellow, bathing her in a backdrop of warmth and comfort. 

Ten years have passed since your death. 

Tuk remembered that day more clearly than the others. 

When her family had finally managed to pry her and Kiri away from the grasps of their enemies, her eight-year-old mind thinking everything was going to be alright from there out as they floated above the water on Payakan’s fin until she noticed the usual bright absence of her oldest sister. 

Her questions had been answered in the worst possible way as she was led to the flat surface of rocks in the middle of the dark ocean, the flames of the sinking boat being the only light to illuminate them

But it had been bright enough for her eyes to take in the scarily still form of you. An image of cold serenity with a wet cloth covering your body from the neck down, eyes closed as if you were dreaming. 

Tuk had thought you were. 

Simply sleeping that is. 

Sinking slowly down to her knees beside you, small hand shaking your shoulder to wake up, to hug her and assure her that everything was okay now. That their family was safe and they could go home. But you wouldn’t wake up. 

“Why won’t sissy wake up, daddy!” Her child self had sobbed, hiccuping and whipping around to stare at her dad for an answer. 

He had only scooped her up in his arms, tugging her head into his neck with comforting nothings, apologizing for something she couldn’t hear through her sobs of denial. Kiri had stared, seeing but unseeing, fists clenched by her side as their mother sank down and pulled your damp head into her lap. 

The bright roots from the tree of souls brought her back to the present as Atanzaw swooped down slowly. The area was empty from what she could see, because Tuk had arrived late to her family’s tradition of visiting you on your death anniversary.

Instead of heading straight to the tree and connecting her queue, she found a slab of high rock several feet away and sat down. Her ikran settling down on his stomach beside her with a grumble as she absently traced his neck. 

“Come on, Tuk Tuk! Atanzaw won’t wait for us forever!” Your voice seemingly whispered in her ears, your bright laughter following as the memories of her small self rushing out of the hut for your weekly sister bonding time. 

“Tuk Tuk, mom and dad won’t be happy if you don’t clean up before dinner!” What an ongoing issue it had for you to force her to simply clean up after a day of adventures outside. 

“Why are you crying, Tuk Tuk?”

“I-I had a n-nightmare of you leaving m-me…”

“Awe, my sweet little Tuk. I’ll never leave you, okay?”

“Y-you promise, sissy?” You had grinned so widely that it seemed like you could shield the entire world from her. “When have I ever broken a promise?”

Tuktirey couldn’t help but scoff, the sound feeling loud in the emptiness of the space as she plucked out handful of grass and letting them flutter to the ground. 

“You’re a goddamn liar, sissy,” She couldn’t help but mutter bitterly. 

“Careful now. She won’t be too happy hearing you say that.”

Looking over her shoulder to face the familiar deep voice of Neteyam, grinning almost innocently. 

Tuk rolled her eyes, never stopping her aggressive little plucking of nature. She would apologize to Eywa another time. 

“What are you doing here, Teyam?” 

Her oldest brother heaved a sigh as he sat down on her other side, his ridiculously broad shoulders brushing her own. Just like everyone else, he had grown into himself as a strong male Na’vi. She knew that if their father decided to step down today as Olo'eyktan, Neteyam would be more than ready to take his place. 

But alas, Jake Sully was still a stubborn male who assured he was more than capable for a couple more years before letting the role of leader go to someone else. A stubborn old fool, their mother had berated him to their amusement. 

“I assumed since you didn’t show up earlier, I would find you here sooner or later.”

Her brother, now twenty-five was one of the respectable leaders of their clan, as a general and heir to their father. Neteyam even surpassed Jake in build and height, all the teenage softness melting into a strong wide jaw and high cheekbones. 

“You didn’t have to wait,” Tuk muttered again as he chuckled.

“And let you remain here alone ruining that poor grass?” Her hand stopped at his pointed words with an inward sigh. 

Pulling her knees against her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, never taking her eyes away from the gently swaying branches of the Tree of Souls. 

“What’s the issue, Tuk?”

“What makes you think there is one?”

She didn’t have to look to know about the brow Neteyam raised at her. “You’ve been acting odd the last couple of days. Even mother and father have noticed.”

Tuk gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Since when have I ever judged you?” 

That was true. Neteyam was always willing to offer an ear for her problems, often ending the conversation with a comforting hug to brighten up her days. 

“I…think I’m forgetting her.” Tuk’s whispered admission floated into the air with a shuddering breath, eyes welling up with tears she let trail down her cheeks. 

A guilt that had bothered her ever since she realized with horror how she couldn’t seem to recall how your smile had looked like, if the colors of your eyes had been as yellow as she remembered, or a more dark orange. 

“Oh Tuk…” She didn’t fight the hold Neteyam slung over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, lips pressing against the crown of her head. “Why are you beating yourself up over that?”

“I can’t forget her, Teyam,” Tuk’s voice shook. “She’s…sissy. What kind of sister would I be if I can’t remember what her smile looked like? How her laugh sounded. It’s not right.”

“Who told you that?” Neteyam’s voice was a low comfort. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

“No, not even close, Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey shook her head. “Don’t do that. I don’t want your lies, Teyam.”

“Do you believe Y/N would call you a liar?” His question made her pause because she didn’t know. 

She didn’t remember what you would have said in moments like these, and it was that exact feeling that was eating her up from the inside. 

“You were eight, Tuk,” Neteyam continued seriously. “A child in the midst of war and mayhem. We all were. Trauma has haunted us all since then, you as a child couldn’t even escape it. Your memories warp over time, and no one would blame you for forgetting details of scenarios over a decade ago.”

“But it’s sissy!” She repeated vehemently. 

“Sissy would tell you to suck it up and stop being a wimp.” 

Words that your oldest brother would never use on a daily basis made them both freeze, before sharing an airy laugh together at how you would 100% say that to their faces. 

“Yeah, she would…” 

How Tuk hated the truth of those words. You would have told them much more than that with narrowed eyes and hands on your hips. Probably including a couple of cuss words followed by your signature whack to the head. 

“A day does not go by where we don’t miss her,” Neteyam’s voice had taken a note melancholy, Atanzaw in his silence seemingly agreeing with a rumble from his chest. 

“Y/N will always leave a mark within our lives long after we’re gone as well. Just look at Lo’ak. That fool has managed pretty well for himself.” 

Giggling at their inside joke, Tuk could see what he meant. 

After the war ended, everyone besides their second brother decided to return to the forest. Lo’ak had been firm in his decision of remaining with the Metkayina, Tsireya by his side as mates and to lead the future generations to come. They were doing incredibly well last time the family had heard, welcoming a healthy baby girl as their first child and naming her after you. They had promised to come for a visit the moment the babe was old enough for long travels. 

None of the family had expected Lo’ak to be the first one to create a family and life for himself, but he had put all the credit on you. How he promised to be strong for your sake; A promise he had now fulfilled to its brim to the pride of everyone else, your parents especially. Kiri herself had taken over the role of Tsahìk, with their grandmother only growing more weary by the day, and there was no one else suited better to the role than her. 

 That left only Tuk, with her eighteenth birthday having passed, she was officially an adult in human terms. She had chosen to become a part of the hunters, often led by Neteyam as well. 

She took after you a lot in that sense, her sense of adventure and adrenalin. 

“You think sissy would be proud?” Tuk asked carefully. 

Neteyam nudged her enough to catch her eyes as she followed his gaze to the tree, his small smirk obvious. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

“W-what?”

“I think of all days, that today is when Eywa might feel a bit more giving than usual.”

Despite her confusion over his mysterious words, Tuk listened and stood up. Walking the distance towards the closest root, she expected the same familiar connection to Eywa and hearing the whispers of the past brush over her mind as well the warmth spreading through her body. However her heart hammered when she felt her mind being pulled in further, as if dragging her away from the ground itself. 

Where was she? 

Slowly looking around, Tuk could vaguely recognize it. It was still home, in the forests on one of the many wide branches belonging to their trees. But it was taller than most she remembered, somewhere further away from their village. 

“Should I be offended that you look confused?”

Gasping, Tuktirey whirled around quicker than she had ever moved. Her hand covered her mouth, blinking as if in a dream as you grinned at her. 

Looking just like you had back then. Burnt orange like the sunrise, that was your eye color. 

“...sissy?” She was too afraid this wasn’t real. Because it didn’t feel like it.

Your grin widened, beaming almost - arms opening wide. “Hey Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey propelled into you mid sob, somehow still feeling smaller than you despite her couple inches on you. The familiar warmth of your grasp around her body brought her back to her childhood almost frighteningly fast, making her think how she managed to ever forget that feeling. 

“How tall you’ve become,” You murmured gently, hands trailing down her long braids, kept neatly within a leather tie. 

“I-I can’t believe this. How-”

“Eywa has granted us the gift of seeing each other again. A rare occurrence.”

Although not wanting to part from your arms, Tuktirey forced herself to pull back slightly. 

Only to be startled by the fact she had to look down to meet your sparkling gaze. You had always seemed like a larger-than-life figure to her. Towering above like an impregnable shield, it was now she realized how you had only been sixteen. How young your features looked now compared to her own eighteen. 

Had you always been that slight? 

“I don’t know what to say.”

You chuckled, reaching up to brush a singular braid back and tuck it behind her ear. “Do you have something to say?”

“I-I thought I did,” Tuk admitted, grasping your smaller hands tightly as you watched her patiently. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, then how about I start?” Meeting your eyes, she watched them crinkle. “I missed you, Tuk Tuk.”

Eywa knows how she managed to smile, a light laugh following despite her tears. “I miss you so much, sissy.”

“You are stunning. I always knew you would be.” 

“How could you?” The words slipped out before she could stop. “You’re not here.”

But you simply snorted, obviously disagreeing. “I’m always there, Tuk. Even if you can’t see me, or feel me. Or even want to remember me. I’ll always be there.”

“Then why did you leave?” Tuktirey couldn’t help the choked question, knowing better than to expect an answer to it. 

You had been shot. Not chosen to die. But you defied all expectations as always, answering with a smirk. 

“Shit happens.”

Their dad would have been proud to hear that. 

“You are so much like Dad,” She huffed out almost exasperated. 

“And don’t you let him forget,” You winked.

A cribble crawled over her skin, the leaves of the trees rustling almost in warning as your face tilted up towards the sky, smile faltering the slightest.  

“We don’t have much time.”

“No,” Tuk shook her head, gripping your hands tighter, probably near painful but you gave no indication of it. “I want to speak with you more. Apologize or something, I can’t forget you!”

To her surprise, you laughed. Loud and coming from your belly. “Forget me? Oh Tuk Tuk, you worry too much.”

“What?”

“You fear the natural sides of life. Apologize? For what? How do you expect to forget your favorite sibling?” Your joke did not dry the fresh tears gathered in her eyes, before your eyes softened. 

Hand coming back up to cup her cheek, thumb gently brushing against it. “You are allowed to forget my face. Even my voice. I would never hold it over you, Tuktirey. But this,” You patted her heart. “That will never be gone. You’ll always find me there, okay?”

Lips wobbling, Tuk sniffled almost pathetically as she nodded. “Okay.”

Her blurry vision took in your face carefully, for what felt like the very last time for a long while. 

Looking at your shining eyes, loving wide grin with the same hint of mischief you always carried around. 

The wind rose as you reached up to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, hands squeezing hers one last time before stepping back and letting go. 

“I love you, sissy.” Tuk managed to croak out as the surroundings were starting to brighten. She swore it was a tear running down your cheek as your grin widened enough to show your teeth. 

“I love you too, Tuk Tuk.” And then a classic you-move; offering her a two-finger salute with a wink. “Make me proud, tiger.”

With a sharp gasp, Tuktirey was back; eyes flying open and stumbling back only to be balanced swiftly by Neteyam.

But he didn’t look concerned. There was a knowing glint in his expectant smile as she stared at him silently, almost stunned. 

That smile widened at the look on her face. “So what did she say?” 

As reality caught up with her, Tuk straightened before huffing out a laugh, wiping away the stray tears on her cheek. 

With twinkling eyes, she ran her tongue against the inside of her mouth in thought before blurting out. 

“That you’ll always be a sniveling crybaby!” 

Cackling, she ran away with a squeal towards Atanzaw as Neteyam growled playfully behind her, bringing up the chase as she took to the skies; heart and soul lighter than she could ever wish for. 

Am I crying? Maybe.

taglist @nao-cchi @eywas-heir @ssc7514 @spicycloudsalad @calums-betch @httpjiikook @ricecakeslove @fanboyluvr @iwaslikeblah   @the-wandering-pan-ace @avatarloversblog @eternallyvenus @enchantinggoateefox @arianapntn @heydemonsitsme @slyvixen1029 @promiseofeywa @love13tter @directioner5life @bambisposts-blogs @melllinaa  @sugarmummystuff6 @lovekeeho @marit332 @hai-kbai @missroro @lola2004sworld @kage-yaa @enchantinggoateefox> @meeeeep5 @wolfangnight @lemon-lav @singular-itae @dueiosy @bobojojoba69​ @littlelia007  @wintersfalcvns @astraeasworld @asweetblueberry2​

[harrygoeswest]

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up. 

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober. 

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet. 

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile. 

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure. 

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever. 

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and  found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association. 

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I.  We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone. 

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned. 

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.” 

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

~

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub. 

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

[vaguelyapeanutbutterandjelly]

We Can't Leave Now.

Ghost x M!Reader Warnings: Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Implied Character Death A/N: I was gonna try and upload regularly and be super cool but that clearly didn't happen. Sorry if this is a bit late after my last fic :] Ghost is in his feels after you get pronounced MIA (And assumed to be extremely dead)

Pacing back and forth, Ghost huffed before leaning into his radio again, "(Name), how copy?" He felt liked this was the thousandth time he'd asked, only to be met with silence. It was eerie looking around the quiet street. Seeing bullet holes in walls and bodies sitting just below them. A hour ago the 141 was fighting for their lives to move through the men here. The sound of gunfire, screams and people barking orders on both sides filled the air. But now? Utter silence. As if the town was abandoned, Ghost swayed slightly where he stood. Choosing to avert his eyes to Price when he saw a small hand peeking from the rubble of a building.

Price was talking to the evac pilot before he noticed Ghost staring him down. He said something into his radio before walking over to the Lieutenant, "Ghost what's the word on (C/S)?" He asked gruffly, his eyes scanning the horizon for you like you'd magically appear after being radio silent. It was Price's job to keep a cool head and think about survival first. Keep the team alive no matter the cost, and they'd already been waiting for you for far longer then he'd feel comfortable with. Each second they stayed here they risked having enemy backup coming and finishing the job. You'd split from the team during the start of the fire fight. Ducking into a building for cover that collapsed into a pile of dust, cement and metal beams. No one knew where you were or if you even lived long enough to make it out of that building. Nobody wanted to say it, but the entire 141 was already assuming what your fate had been. Ghost let out a short grunt, acknowledging Price before leaning back into his radio. Holding it tighter then he was before as a pit formed in his stomach, "(C/S). How. Copy." He strained through gritted teeth as he saw Prices face grow uneasy. Price turned, grabbing onto his vest as he looked at Gaz and Soap sitting down against a wall, cracking jokes and talking despite how visibly exhausted they were. Blissfully unaware of the building panic in Ghost, and the call that Price was about to make. "We don't have enough time to look for him, evacs on its way and enemy reinforcements could be here any minute." Price sighed as he turned back to Ghost, no happier about it then the masked man was. Ghosts eyes widened as he stared at his Captain, his body becoming rigid as he read the implications what he said had. "What are you suggesting?" Ghost seethed through gritted teeth. Not even close to comfortable at the idea of just, leaving. Not without you, not without bringing you home. Price let out a long sigh, looking up to Ghost and simply shook his head. Somewhere deep down Ghost knew that Price was right. Saving the life of many was always going to beat saving the life of one.

But he refused to except it, he refused to bury a picture. "Ghost you know we can't stay longer, we're not going to survive if more men come. If he doesn't show up when evac comes-" Price began to try and reason with him. Ghost stepped forward, using his height advantage despite it not affecting Price he interrupted, "So we're just going to leave him here? You're going to let him die out here and just leave?" Prices expression changed into one Ghost couldn't decipher. Before anyone had a chance to say anything Prices radio crackled to life. The pilot's voice echoed through the tense silence explaining that she was close and planning on landing in the town center. On cue the entire team heard the helicopter flying through the air as it approached the town. Price looked up at Ghost, his skeleton glove clad hand gripping his own radio so tight Price was surprised it didn't break. Saying a small "Understood" into his radio, Price turned around to signal Gaz and Soap to stand up and follow him. Soap piped up as Price did, "Wait, where's (C/N), why are we leavin' without him." The scot questioned as he jogged to keep up with Price. "(C/N) is," Price paused, looking back at Ghost as he stood where Price has left him, "Is considered MIA from now until we confirm his status. We have to leave without him." Ghost could feel his throat tighten as he stared at the building that he saw you in last. A small crack snapped him out of it as he looked down, the shell of his radio splintering off into his gloved hand. You still didn't respond. --------------------------- I wrote this while very tired but I think I'm pretty happy with it. Hope you enjoyed :D

[frost-queen]

Report to duty (Reader x Leon Kennedy)

Requested by: anon ,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: You work with Ada under Wesker. When you encounter Leon you two go at each other's throat which leads to Ada to teasingly leave a comment. When Leon and you want to dismiss it, you notice Ada has left you alone in the care of Leon. Left and right throwing rude comments at each other. Yet you truly start to worry when Leon get's into trouble.

Ada sighed loud tugging the list from Luis away. – “I do not recall signing up to run errands.” – she said out loud walking with the upmost air around her. – “If we do this for Luis, he’ll give us the amber.” – you replied walking a step behind her. Just like it always have been. Ada taking the lead, you just a step behind. Ada laughed loud moving her hand before her mouth. – “He’ll first have to retrieve it.”- she replied opening a door that lead to a weaponry. You took a glance at all the shields hanging up on the wall.

Ada moved to the center where some weapons were displayed. Letting her finger glide over them she hummed intriguing. – “Find the bottle!” – she ordered, glancing over her shoulder to you. You nodded walking around to examine the room. Moving across the room to a table, you picked up a paper where some of the shields were represented on.

Before you could utter a word, heard you noises outside the other door. Ada and you both stared at the door. One quick glance of Ada made clear what her intentions were. You moved swiftly across, climbing up the bookcases. Ada opened the window, peeking briefly downwards before taking in her position as well.

You staid low, hiding in the shadows when the door opened. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Leon Kennedy. Eyeing the room on high alert, ready for anything to come at him. Leon moved closer to the bookcases, moving across the room to head for the other door as he got stopped. Feeling the cold tip of a gun against the back of his head. Instantly he moved his hands up with a grunt. – “What a surprise Leon.” – Ada spoke with a catty smile.

“I should’ve known you were here as well Ada.” – Leon responded. Ada moved a bit closer to him. – “You should give up on the president’s daughter.” – she spoke making Leon clench his jaw. In a second turned he round, swiftly grabbing her gun from her. Ada looked slightly down seeing a knife in his other hand near her stomach. – “Hasn’t anyone told you knives are better in close-combat?” – Leon teased.

“Always the charmer Leon.” – Ada said as he handed her the gun back. Ada tugged her gun away, walking round Leon closer to the window. Leon followed her turn, watching her go. She stood by the window, arms crossed with a sly smile on her lips. Leon furrowed his brows till it was too late that he heard the loud thud. – “Hasn’t anyone told you to never turn your back?” – you said holding a knife in front of his neck. – “Great.” – Leon groaned out. – “You’ve brought your pet.” – he mocked.

“How funny, you should be a comedian.” – you replied with sarcasm. Leon looked over at Ada. – “Does she bark when you ask?” – he asked motioning slightly with his head to you, behind him. Ada chuckled as it upset you more. Gritting your teeth you moved the tip of your knife closer to his throat. Leon had enough of this childsplay, grabbing you by the wrist. In a matter of seconds had he disarmed you, now being the one to hold your knife.

Ada quirked her eyebrow up, intrigued what storm would unleash in a matter of seconds. You glanced to your side, noticing the medieval spiked ball. Taking it by the handle, you smiled at Leon. – “Isn’t that a bit too heavy for you?” – Leon asked with a teasing smile. – “Let’s find out.” – you responded. You went towards Leon, swinging the weapon at his head. Leon ducked down, moving his hand with the knife in it closer to you.

You let go of the medieval weapon as it fell to the floor with a loud thud. Grabbing Leon’s arm in time before his knife could slash you. He tilted his head, eyeing the weapon on the floor. – “Already tiring?” – he teased. You kneed him in the stomach, sending him to his knees. You then jumped, wrapping your legs around his neck. Rolling over, Leon was on the ground scrambling to get loose. – “You talk to much.” – you told him, squeezing your legs tighter around his neck.

“Yeah…” – he groaned out feeling the pressure of your legs on his throat. He punched a pressure point in your leg making you release your grip around him. Leon coughed a few times, touching his neck as he was on his knees. You were getting back up trying to seek for a weapon. Leon tenses his jaw, swaying his leg over the floor to knock you over.

You fell hard on your back. Leon crawled on top of you, holding you down by your wrists. With anger was he staring down at you. – “You are easily over-ruled.” – he finished smirking down at you. You swung your leg up, hitting him in the back of his head. Leon grunted as he came down making you turn your head to shield your face from him.

Leon laid on top of you as Ada quirked her eyebrow up. You pushed him off you, scrambling to reach the knife that he had dropped earlier. Leon rubbed the back of his head, sitting on his knees. – “And yet here I stand.” – you told him. Leon got up on his feet, taking out his own knife. Both of you stared at each other, waiting for one to take the first step. Leon and you moved at the same time. His knife and yours clashing against each other.

You tried stabbing him low as he grabbed your wrist, stopping you just in time of reaching his skin. Giving your wrist a push back, you stumbled a bit backwards. He slashed at your throat making you jump back just in time. Leon went low as you blocked his hand, kneeing his knife out of his hand. It clattered to the ground. You wanted to strike your knife down on Leon as he took a hold of your wrist.

His other hand grabbing you by the waist as he pushed you firmly up against the side of the bookcase. You let out a gasp once your back hit the bookcase. Leon held your hands firmly up above your head. His other hand deeply pressed on your waist. His expression stern as he came breathing loudly in your face. His breath tickling your mouth. Your eyes met up his, seeing them slowly soften upon you.

“What a cute couple.” – Ada said whilst applauding slow. Leon and you startled awake, both hardening your expressions once more. – “No!” – Both of you shouted, looking away to Ada. Yet she wasn’t there anymore. Your eyes widened seeing the open window move with the wind. Leon grunted loud pushing himself off you. Your hands lowered as you became aware that she had left you. Abandoned you to be stuck with Leon. Leon picked up his knife from the ground, putting it away.

You put your own knife away as well. – “Guess your master forgot their dog.” – Leon commented making you clench your hand into a fist. – “At least I’m not infected!” – you called back to him. Leon glared your way. – “Can still very much happen, puppy!” – he replied. You hated that he kept calling you that. You weren’t someone’s pet, not now nor ever. You flipped him the bird. – “Auch, did I hurt your feelings pup?” – he chuckled out. You ignored him heading for the door he came from. – “I just came from there.” – he said letting you know he preferred to go the other way.

“And I from there. There isn’t sh*t back there.” – you told him on a snappy tone. – “Easy pup, I’d hate to see you get worked up.” – he said. You turned round throwing your knife at him. Missing him deliberately. The knife landed in front of his feet as he barely flinched. – “Next time I’ll aim for your head.” – you told him, opening the door with force.

Leon chuckled picking up your knife before going after you. He fell in line with you, offering your knife back to you. You took it with a loud sigh, putting it away. Coming at a crossing you wanted to go left when Leon grabbed you by the elbow, pulling you into the other direction. –“This way pup.” – he said. – “Stop calling me that!” – you insisted upon, hating it so much. He chuckled as you found it anything but humorously. Leon pulled out his gun, ready to open a door.

You pulled out your own gun in case you needed it. He entered looking upon an empty room. – “See you are still doing Wesker’s bidding.” – he said. You groaned loud, rolling with your eyes. – “Do you ever shut up?” – you questioned. Leon came to a stop making you bump against his back. He then turned around with a mischievous smile on his lips. – “Arf!” – he barked coming close up in your face.

It both caught you off guard as annoyed you. You pushed him off you, hating him like this. Leon puffed loud, opening his arms. – “It was a joke Y/n.” – he called out. – “Still not a comedian!” – you bit back leaving the room once more. Leon came after you. Back in the hallway, he heard noises, making him grab you by the wrist, pulling you with him.

He pushed you against the wall, pressing his body on yours. He kept looking over his shoulder as you could hear your own heartbeat in your chest from how closely pressed he was on you. Even the bit of sweat smell was sensational. Leon turned his head to you, looking down. Feeling that it was getting to overwhelming, you slid down, escaping underneath his arm. Leon took a deep breath before going after you. Leon heard something behind him, making him slightly turn his head to the side. In the corner of his eye he saw some commoners having found their way inside.

“Pup!” – Leon called out to get your attention. You turned around, hating yourself for listening to the nickname. Seeing the people for your own, you started shooting at them. Leon backed up, shooting to come and stand beside you.  You fired at their knees to slow them down. Leon finishing off by shooting their heads. From behind them, you heard more commotion, knowing more were coming. You tugged on Leon’s arm to get him to follow you. Leon shrugged your grip off him, continuing to shoot.

“Leon!” – you called out seeing the swarming hoard of angry town folk. – “I can take them!” – Leon replied loud. – “Like hell you can!” – you shouted at him. He wouldn’t stop shooting as you sighed loud. – “If you have a death wish, so be it but I’m not following you to the grave.” – you told him turning round to run off. Leon kept shooting groaning loud that he was going to follow you. He stopped shooting turning round to go after you.

Leon ran after you into a room as you shut it. – “Finally you’ve come to your senses.” – you told him whilst blocking the door. Leon ran up to the window, opening it. The rain falling on him when he stuck his head out to look downwards. – “We can make it.” – he said looking back at you. His eyes widened seeing you push your entire body against the door, hearing the angry town folk at the other side. – “What are you waiting for. Jump Leon!” – you told him, setting your feet firm on the ground.

Leon glanced down panting a bit. – “Pup!” – he called out as you tensed your jaw, feeling your feet slide over the ground as they were trying to break through the door. – “Y/n let go!” – Leon said as you called him insane. – “Y/n!” – Leon spoke as you saw him offer his hand to you. Taking a deep breath, you set yourself off from the door. The moment you let go of the door, it swung open, the town folk entering in a swarm.

You kept your eyes on Leon running up to him. You could hear their loud shouting behind you, knowing they were close. Reaching your hand out, you ran to reach his. Leon grabbed your hand pulling you out of the window with him. Arms around you, he fell down with you. Landing hard on the grass, he groaned loud.

You pressed your hand on his chest, pushing yourself up from him. – “You are insane!” – you told him. Leon chuckled in pain when you got off him. – “You could’ve left me.” – you told him brushing some dirt from you. Leon crawled up to his feet, coming over to you. – “I’m not Ada.” – he said suddenly smirking. – “Pup.” – he finished ruffling his fingers through your hair. You slapped his hand away with much annoyance, storming off. – “Can’t take a joke.” – Leon puffed out before following you again.

Leon decided to give you a bit of space, feeling that you were still angry at him. Just a step behind you, he glanced your way to admire you. Slightly furrow his brows. You breathed deep, letting your shoulder slouch a bit. Seeing how your expression had saddened. Leon had this sudden urge to make you smile. Wanting to see you smile as seeing you so saddened pained his heart for some reason. Yet he didn’t respond to it. Simply letting you be.

Leon and you went on to a more seclude area away from the estate. Suddenly Leon grunted loud. You gasped loud turning round when you saw him in pain. – “Leon!” – you called out coming over. Leon fell to his knees, grunting in pain. Your eyes widened seeing the veins on his arms and in his neck darken. The plagas taking a toll on him. You swung his arm over your shoulders, helping him back up.

Leon barely had any strength in his legs. He kept calling it out in pain taking you down with him as he lost the weight in his legs. – “Leon!” – you called out as he lifted his head up. You gasped loud seeing the darkness in his eyes. – “Go!” – he shouted pushing you, making you fall on your bottom. The worriedness inside of you rose as you scrambled up on your feet. – “No!” – Leon grunted out when you wanted to grab him again. You pushed his hand away, pulling him up with you. – “Resist it Leon!” – you told him helping him to a shed nearby. You fell to your knees with him in the shed, falling from the weight of him.

Leon grabbed for his knife as you quickly kicked it out of his hand. – “Fight it Leon!” – you told him seeing how dark his expression was. He called it out in pain, squirming from the pain. You hated seeing him like this, suffering from it. Leon grunted loud, trying to resist it. He sat on his knees, calling it out as he felt the plagas try to take control of him. You went to him, wrapping your arms around him. Leon called it out against your chest, thumping his fist on your back. You resisted his punches, squeezing him tighter in your embrace. – “Don’t let it control you Leon. Fight this… please…” – you told him, hugging him to not let go.

Leon kept squirming against your grip as it made you sob loud. You hated this Godforsaken town and their cult. You hated what they have done to Leon. – “Please Leon… come back to me.” – you sobbed out. Slowly the punches died out as his hand faltered to the ground. You felt Leon shift in your embrace making you lighten your grip around him. – “Please Leon…” – you whispered as tears rolled down your cheek. Leon slightly lifted his head grabbing your chin in a gentle way.

“Pup?” – he said lifting your head up to meet up with his eyes. You blinked your tears away seeing his caring eyes again. You couldn’t stop crying upon seeing Leon as himself again. He wiped a few tears away from your cheek with the brush of his thumb. – “It’s me again.” – he reassured you. You felt relieved but somehow you couldn’t stop worrying about him. Leon lifted his chest a bit up, leaning in. Pressing his lips against your wet lips.

Pushing your mouth open with his lips, he could taste your salty tears as he kissed you deeper. You kissed him back, moving your hands behind his head. The kiss became more desperate as if having missed each other’s touch for eternity. Leon and you pulled away, foreheads touching still wanting to be in this intimate moment. – “Don’t worry pup, I won’t tell Ada.” – he said smiling as you punched him in the armpit. – “Au!” – he called out. – “Y/n.” – he corrected himself. – “Good boy.” – you replied rewarding his good behavior with another kiss.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[this-is-ris]

Thank you for the tags everyone! Take a seat, or grab her hand for a journey into some Ris Lore Basics!

B A S I C S

-Name: Ris Dei-ijla -Nicknames: Haven (as called by her partner, Qara) Glasses (by a friend, named Fish) and Rissy (Dinky Dinky’s name for her) -Age: 55 -Nameday: 12th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon -Race: Rava Viera -Gender: CIS Female -Orientation: Pansexual -Profession: Gleaner, Herbalist, Fledgling Apothecary

P H Y S I C A L    A S P E C T S

-Hair: Thick wavy blanket of dark brown hair, absolutely fluffy and soft. Always woven with fresh flowers and herbs. -Eyes: Bright jade, constant glow to them. Wears red-hued eye makeup around her outer and lower lids. -Skin: Tan, freckles all over from head to toe. -Tattoos/scars: None to speak of, will on occasion wear body paint reminiscent of her tribe.

F A M I L Y

-Parents: Ceres Dei-ijla (mother) -Siblings: many sisters (some known, some unknown) -Grandparents: Unknown/Deceased  -In-laws and Other: self adopted brother Bem Dei-jla. -Pets: Rabbit named Pancake

S K I L L S

Abilities:  -Channeling aether, for use with summoning or healing magicks. -Use of a guard stick/glaive -Use of tomes if practicing summoning magicks.  -Aethersight that can read one’s emotions/aura to an extent.  Hobbies: -Gardening/Foraging, Reading, Dancing, baking sweets and preparing medicines for her friends and loved ones.

T R A I T S

-Most Positive Trait: Selfless and willing to help just about anyone. -Most Negative Trait: Worrying too much for others’ safety and wellbeing where it may seem she loses sight/trust of them being able to handle themselves just fine.

L I K E S

-Colors: Purples, greens, blues -Smells: Jasmine, oud wood, vanilla, moss -Textures: soft delicate flower petals, dewy moss on tree bark, velvety tuft of fur, smooth leather cover of a well-loved notebook. -Drinks: Teas, botanical beverages, fruit juices

O T H E R   D E T A I L S

Smokes: Doesn’t go out of her way to, but has done some experimenting with special grasses she may come across.. Just for science. Drinks: Socially, with friends and at her favorite taverns when passing by the area Drugs: only drugs being of the medicinal variety she tests for herself (to check for side effects) aside from that, not recreationally unless we’re talking special grasses again..hehe Mount Issuance: a chocobo she was given a great deal on during her first time visiting the Shroud, named Lilah. Ris prefers traveling on foot, so oftentimes Lilah will just be her trail companion to share company with and be in charge of carrying their food and blankets. Been Arrested: No, but she has been (self) exiled! (:

This was super fun and I know I am a bit late so won't try and tag too many if I have seen one for you @justatheo @the-white-snake @prudentfolly @bemsbigboom (no pressure, but just in case~)

[spacecasette]

Bolt the Horse — c h a p t e r o n e

@madsmilfelsen for u my angel ♡

In the summer of 2011, she wore her hair in two braids down her back, and spent a not insignificant amount of time on barstools. The air was humid as a clenched fist and humming, so the most she could do to alleviate it was with a Miller High Life in hand, shorts admittedly a touch too short for lookin', and nothing better than trouble to get done. It was in this way she found herself in a bar without a ride home in the pouring September rain.

She was not, in her 25th year, looking for any kind of trouble she could not feasibly get into on her own. She felt as if she could do enough of the fucking up by herself, thank you kindly, and did not take well to anyone who didn't seem like they could handle that.

Rust Cohle, as it turns out, could kind of handle it. At least, she notices, he can handle most things– the exceptions being exceptional humidity and obvious displays of misplaced hubris. They watch each other often; her slyly from atop her barstool, and him openly from wherever he stood behind the bar. It seemed like a lot of the time he could hardly stomach her sitting close to him at all, even when they were across the room. Once, when she was admittedly a little too drunk for a girl who was meant to be in charge of herself, she dropped a shot glass and nearly fell from her perch trying to retrieve the shattered pieces. She looked up to find his stare already fixed on her, whites showing in his eyes like a frightened dog. He was by her side in an instant, batting her hands away and calling her a "messy little thing", which she would have found insulting, if it weren't a little too accurate. But then he checked her palms for cuts and held his hand between the bar and her head when she got up, so she couldn't be too sure he didn't just feel bad for her. She would take it though, either way it was offered. She would never tell him to his face, but she was getting lonely out at her grandparents' house with only the coyotes for company. She liked too much being around to ever tell him to quit barking at her or rolling his eyes when she asked for a pen to do her crosswords with.

It's a Saturday night the first time she loses her grip. Condensed down to one or fifteen seconds, when she laughs loud at something another regular has said. At the sound of air pressed forcefully through Rust's nose in a poor imitation of a laugh, she looks up at him. Her glassy, liquor-slicked eyes, pupils big as the fuckin' moon, begging and begging with no end in sight. Her gaze darting over his face like she can't quite decide where best to fix it– and goddammit if that doesn't just tear him all up inside.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?" He asks, and another of those half-not-laughs falls out.

"Dunno, Rust, wanna find out over dinner sometime?" she fires it back so quick it leaves him a little stunned, a fish whacked out of water. In lieu of a reply, he slides her beer away from her and sets a glass of water down in its place, though she pouts prolifically when he does.

"Prob'ly better if you get on home, little doggy, " he says, soft and condescending even with a corner of his mouth turned up the way it is.

"'M not little anymore, Rust, fuck's sake," she mumbles, taciturn and petulant even this deep in her drink.

"Go get some air, girl, I'll be out quick to drive you home," he tells her, casual like he didn't already know she'd been hoping and wishing for it all night, "and don't go pitching a fit about it. 'S fuckin' pourin' out there and you'd drown yourself in a thimble of rain if I don't."

The screen door in front slams quickly, and will catch you in the back of the head if you're not quick about getting in before it. Dani doesn't tell him this because she is very busy with falling over the threshold in a fit of giggles, bride to her own amusement at Rust having to shuffle her in like someone's feeble old grandma. He is rather short of patience at this hour, and she can feel herself dancing over top his last nerve, but she finds it honestly pretty funny so she makes a lot of stupid faces and asks twice if he'll tuck her in. She's not been sleeping in a bed in the house because they all make her feel a little too sad lately, so she makes a bee line for the couch in the center of the front room, like a rock face she's dead set to crashing on. Rust lets her fall into it– helps her, even, letting loose his grip on her arms to let her splay onto the cushions and roll her ruddy cheek down deep in the throw pillow. Her hair stuck to her face and her breathing slightly shallow, his fingers itch with the desire to check her pulse, to fret over her. Instead he keeps his hands to himself and watches, impassive, as she makes a valiant attempt at rucking her shorts down over her knees to kick them off, making no effort to help. His watching feels like something else, she thinks sluggishly, like a hot lick of fever climbing down her spine and sticking there as a burr would. When she notices him staring, she offers up her dopiest, softest smile, and slurs

"Rust. If you're gonna stand there all night, I won't stop you but first could you go grab me some sleep shorts out of the chester draws? First door on the left at the top of the stairs," she swallows, thick as honeyed night, "please."

The wiry automaton of his body clicks into action: mouth softly closing, limbs lurching into their movement, all economy and surprise.

He returns with her gray shorts, ratty things with the elastic long gone to dust, and sets them down on the coffee table. He turns around, all precious and respectful now that they're alone, and lets her put them on.

When he hears her settle and finally turns around, it's to find her already asleep, her cheeks flushed and limbs spread across the sofa like a child exhausted from the heat.

Sunday morning, she awoke neatly tucked under an afghan with a glass jar of water and two ibuprofen on the coffee table in front of her. Looking at the clock above the door, cogs clicking in the dim apartment of her skull, she realized with quite a start that if she wasn't dressed and ready in exactly 7 minutes, she was going to be rather unfashionably late for Sunday service.

Imagining the looks of misplaced pity from the faces of grandmothers and their daughters and their daughters' daughters was enough to light a decent fire under her ass. She dressed quickly, brushed her sticky teeth to rid them of the scent of stale beer and Black Velvet and was out the door toward the truck with 30 seconds to spare. Her hair, regrettably, was a mouse nest when she checked it in the rearview.

On the drive in, she remembered vaguely that Rust had brought her home late last night but had not, thankfully, stuck around quite long enough for her to embarrass herself any further than she had expected to. She had come to know herself when drinking anything harder than a Shirley temple to be rather childish, with an attitude and a neediness about her to rival some mothers' babies. She could be a sore loser when Robert would walk her like a dog in Rummy, and would play too many Mel Carter songs in a row on the jukebox. This last behavior never failed to put a very unreadable look on Rust's face, like she was leading herself to the gallows & he knew it. There was nothing to be done about her nature now, she supposed, except to apologize to whomever had to suffer it. Used to be her grandparents would correct her, sometimes sternly, but she could always weasel her way out of trouble if she put on the right pair of puppy eyes– now there was no one to set her straight over their knee and make her see sense.

Service was a fine, if a little lengthy, affair with a lot of the old biddies fanning themselves in the heat and cooing over her bruised up knees. She explained (falsely) that she had been moving some of Papa's things back in from the shed, and, arms full, had tripped up the porch steps. Feeling a little poorly about lying in church, she reasoned that telling them she'd come home drunk and tripped over her own threshold would have been inappropriate pew chatter, so it was okay for her to bend the truth into a sweeter shape once in a while.

Leaving church, she decided to stop by Hank's for groceries– mostly because she wanted something to make her feel productive, though she knew she was bound to spend her afternoon (and likely evening) walking around in the creek and reading on the porch. She was clear out of bread, and running dangerously low on the honey cereal she'd taken a liking to. Eggs, she knew, she could trade a neighbor for, so she treated herself to an orange dreamsicle in their place. When she was younger, and Mammy would take her here, she never said no to books or puzzles, but could always deny her granddaughter candy or toys. Now, it seemed, Dani had more books than she could reasonably read in years, and was of the mind that denying herself pleasure of this kind was a punishment she had not earned.

In the breakfast aisle, a feeling not dissimilar to a flight response catches her by the tail of her hair and will not let her go. She moseys slow like, taking her time to draw him out, entertaining herself with all the little barbs she might stick him with. Things like "you followin' me, mister?" or "funny meetin' you here, I thought you lived off coffee, cigarettes, and switch grass." But she didn't really have anything too smart to say when he finally sidled up next to her while she was fretting over cereal.

Her eyes darted to his hands, slung under the weight of the blue basket in his grip– sinewy, calloused– and then up to his shirt collar, chin, face, then eyes. She had to take it in little leaps else she'd get shy and find a way to leave before she'd said her piece.

"'M sorry you had to see me home last night. Didn't mean to get ornery, so. It won't happen again." It's soft, coming out her mouth, like they were the only people in the room.

"'S alright, just seems like someone oughta look after you once in a while," he says, just as quiet, as if talking to himself. The hum of the lights gets a little too loud and she can't quite think all the way, so her words come out rushed,

"How come you don't go to church?"

"I don't really fuss about with god." This surprises her, for some reason. She felt she knew his way, a little, how he looked at everything through the lens of dutiful futility. It stands to reason he wouldn't really bother with something so nebulous and unfixed, but for all she knows he's a thing flung straight down from outer space so she doesn't follow the thought too far.

"Well, me neither, except I like the singing, and Mammy always made me go. Just seems like the thing to do, I guess. Don't you got a thing you do? Just 'cause you feel like you're supposed to?"

"Unfortunately, sweetheart, everything I do is 'cause I'm supposed to."

Then they don't talk, for what feels like a whole winter but is really only a minute. She finds her prize on the shelf and quickly puts it in her basket, looking at her shoes until she finds the nerve to speak again,

"I'm trying to be your friend, Rust. Are you gonna let me, or are you gonna keep up this whole 'mysterious old man with a vendetta against fun' thing?"

He chuckles at that, but doesn't exactly answer.

"Look, I'm gonna be gone a while. Not long, should be back towards the middle of the week, but I want you to stay home. I mean that. Don't come by the bar, don't go anywhere I wouldn't know to find you, okay? You stay outta trouble and we'll talk about being friends when I get back."

She rolls her eyes at the implication that she couldn't handle life and its spinning without him herding her about.

"Fine. But when you get back, you owe me a beer and a game of rummy. And you can't pawn me off on Bob, either, I'm starting to think it's personal."

"Deal." They shake hands, and he's gone. When she finally quits looking down at her hand where he held it, she grabs her milk and butter, pays the kid at the till, and heads home.

Dani knows, for the most part, how to behave. She spent so long having so little reason to lash out that the muscle memory of trouble making had practically atrophied by the time she turned 19. She spends her first day at home reorganizing the bookshelves in the living room by genre, which eats up a good 3 hours after breakfast and fills her with a terribly pleased feeling to boot. By then, she's ready for a simple lunch of a ham and cheese sandwich with an entire sleeve of tollhouse crackers, which she eats on the porch with a can of pepsi beside her. The cicadas do their screeching song all day, and when she wanders out into the yard, she finds one of their molts clung to the trunk of a live oak. Papa's voice floats into her head, and she is thrown face-first into a memory of them gathered in the kitchen one early morning, heads bowed in little prayer to examine the bugs and moths he'd pinned to a paper towel on the counter. He'd told her about the dog day cicadas, how they sleep for 7 years and come alive to feed, breed, scream, and die. He'd pointed out the luna moth, its wings frayed and flaked where he'd handled it with a little carelessness. It had looked so graceful and serene, laying with its wings fanned and pinned apart with mammy's pearl-headed sewing pins. She remembers the sadness she'd felt when he had told her they lacked mouths, and existed only by the grace of whatever nutrients they'd ingested as caterpillars. She felt a bit like that now, catapulted into life without them in the span of a year, and with no way to cherish them except in reverse. Reduced to a thing that wanted, with no way of asking.

Dani spent the rest of the first day ambling through the trees looking for bugs and leaves and interesting bits she might save to keep the memory of summer alive when the rain came and the sun stayed away longer. At night, she ate buttered noodles and pinned her findings in a shadowbox she'd gutted, hunched over the kitchen table tweezing antennae and legs into place. When she felt herself growing sleepy, she walked the few paces to the sofa, and fell onto it with all the grace of a foal in its first hours. She dreamt that night that she'd forgotten her name, and was standing in the middle of her empty high school.

The second day passed much differently– the hours stretched their long fingers out toward the sun and took their dandy time to pass. She was restless, and it was hot, and she felt a searching inside her that could not be sated by any of the near dozen books she tried out. By 1pm she was packing a small lunch (ham and cheese again, with the last sleeve of crackers) and walking back through the trees behind the house to the creek. Toeing off her shoes and slipping off her dress, she slipped down into that cool, murky wet. She floated on her back in the middle a while, watching the canopy shiver apart to let the sunlight through in lacelike patterns on the surface of the water. Eventually, she uprighted herself and walked along the bank looking for a salamander or a frog, something alive she might find companionship with. It ended up being fruitless, which ratcheted up that irritable itch and culminated in a single misstep over an algae-slicked stone and sent her straight down backward onto her ass. Her eyes welling with frustrated tears, she laid there stunned with her tailbone throbbing something fierce for a good ten minutes. When her self pity ran dry and she remembered she was the only one around who could kiss it better, she gathered up the lunch she'd neglected to eat and went straight back to the house for a hot shower, or perhaps a nap on the sofa.

She woke around 6pm with all her bones feeling fused together at the joints, and a small puddle of drool on the throw pillow beneath her cheek. It was with a sense of delirious urgency that she climbed from her makeshift bed and upstairs to the bathroom, and upon flicking the light, noticed her hair had dried down in such a horrendous tangle she sat down on the floor and started to cry. She cried because she missed her Mammy and her Papa, because her body hurt, and because she was struck with the painfully sudden and obvious realization that she really was on her own now. She cried because she felt stupid, and small, and rather lonely here in this house she loved but felt guilty being in for some reason.

Eventually, the tide of her sobbing had slowed and she crawled over to the drawer to fish out her hairbrush, and set about making sense of the nest that had settled on her head. When it was done, and with great effort at that, she turned on the shower as boiling hot as it would go, and sat herself down to spend the better part of half an hour feeling put out and morose before she even picked up the shampoo. It was a quick affair after that, as she didn't really love having pruny fingers.

The boredom reaches a fever pitch around 10:30, untempered by two failed attempts at knitting and one batch of lemon muffins. Everything Dani has done in the last fourteen hours to restore a sense of normalcy has come spitting furiously back into her face, and she really truly feels like something in her is fixing to hatch. It's beginning to feel like an undoing, and she's uncomfortable, so she laces up her stupid shoes and walks the stupid half-mile to Doumain's. She curses Rust the whole way, scrunches up her nose and spits at his voice in her head telling her to stay put, like a dog that don't know any better than to leap out the door. She feels hot and itchy again, and she made up promises– one she did try hard to keep, but again her nature won out– and he said he'd be back by mid week. It's coming on 11 on a Tuesday, so she reckons she's close enough to compliance for fulfilling her end of a crummy deal. And anyway, she's fighting mad for nothing and wants a beer and a furious game of cards with Bob to soften up all the little hard upset parts of her.

When she arrives, it's unnaturally rowdy for a weeknight. The pool tables are full, and there isn't a spot for her at the bar until she catches Bob's eye and he makes another regular– Mason, her useless brain supplies– move out of the way to let her claim her usual spot. No crosswords tonight, she sets a deck of cards and a wad of folded ones on the bar-top between them. The other bartender is here tonight in Rust's place– she's only ever seen him once, and he wasn't all that nice, but neither is Rust, so her demeanor doesn't have to change all that much after all. She orders a tallboy of Lonestar and a shot of Black Velvet because no one will stop her, and she can't help herself, especially now. Bob gives her a sidelong look she's seen before, one that says she's skating on thin fuckin' ice, but she knocks back her shot like it owes her rent without meeting his eye. Her evening irons back out and starts to feel normal, if a little lackluster since Rust isn't around for her to pester and push. She really did think she might get away with coming here despite her instructions until one of those stupid dishwater-blond fucks– Amos or Andrew, the one with too-green eyes– comes over and starts inching in on her, thinking she won't notice. She tried out doing the right thing, angling her body away from him hoping he'd get the message and go find his luck somewhere else. He doesn't. Instead, he uses a knee to turn the seat of her seat of her barstool around to face him and says,

"What're you doin' over here all by your lonesome, baby? Come play with us, I'll buy you a fruity little drink if you want, somethin' to wet that," he looks down at her mouth, leans close and lecherous and rancid, "whistle."

"No, thank you. Bob and I are gonna play some cards, you're gonna go circle jerk with your friends, and we'll steer nice and clear of each other." Her brows and fingers knit together, holding herself in by the edges because she's honestly a little afraid she might bite him or scream or throw something. His answering smile comes, satisfied and too close for comfort that it makes something in her burn scalding and bright.

"Oh, come on, don't be such a sourpuss. Go a round with us and we'll see where the night takes us, hmm?"

Her fist connects with his left orbital socket before she even decides it should. His whole body ripples away at the impact– the desired effect– and while on his back foot she watches his eyes widen with the realization. Then he's on her, screaming and aiming for her neck. Dani feels, in this moment, a far off panic. Fights never really found her too easily, since she had a habit of keeping to herself (except, obviously, on this occasion). It's all she can do to flail about with closed fists until something lands or someone steps in to free her. And intervene, someone does: Mason, who despite having his seat stolen not twenty minutes ago comes to her rescue by pulling the kid off her by his collar like a rowdy kitten. She lies there, staring at the water stains on the ceiling, until Mason's face floats into her periphery and she's pulled to sitting. Her face feels sticky and hot all over, and her lashes are clumped together making it hard to blink up at the few faces looking down at her. She finds Bob's eyes, and the first words out of her mouth are,

"Please don't tell Rust."

He laughs, shakes his head, and offers her a hand which she takes to stand on her wobbly legs. Assuming she's being shown the door, she heads that direction only to be stopped by a hand on the crook of her elbow. She turns to face Bob, and his face is caught between a look of wonder and pity. He nods toward the back door, and she follows, head turned down towards her shoes. The soundtrack to Tuesday night clicks back to life and everyone goes back to their business as they exit the building. He fumbles with the spigot on the wall, and his hankie is removed, wetted, then used to roughly dab the drying blood off her lips and nose. Even in the bare moonlight, she sees it come away dark. She's heard Bob speak on so few occasions, she nearly misses it when he mumbles,

"Don't you go pickin' fights you don't know goddamn well how to win, missy. You're lucky Rust ain't here, he'd have probably hauled off and killed that kid." Her face burns at that, and not from the cut.

"I-I'm sorry, Bob, really. I just-he was being gross and it kinda happened before I knew any different what my hands were up to. Won't happen again, you know I'm not that type of girl."

He doesn't reply, but the "maybe you oughta think about that first next time" hangs in the air, limp and useless now.

He lets her into an apartment attached to the bar near the back door, which she sort of knew about but assumed was where he lived. There was hardly anything in it– no dishes on the sink or mess on the counters– until they got to the bedroom. The only evidence she could see that would lead her to believe it was occupied was a full-sized mattress on the floor, covered in a white flat sheet, and a pile of Louisiana history text books in the corner beneath the window.

"Sleep it off in here for tonight. There's a quilt in the hall closet if you need it, and the washroom's just next door."

He's gone out the door before she can thank him. She looks at the bed, and the moonlight coming through the blinds onto it. She could sleep, she thinks. She should. Grabbing the quilt from the hall closet– hard to miss, it was the only thing in there– she wraps it around herself, toes off her shoes, and lays down on the bed. Curled on her side, stray tears dripping across the still-bloody bridge of her nose onto the sheet, she falls asleep.

Rust gets home at 3:27AM, and Bob is waiting up for him, smoking a cigarette at the bar. It's not exactly uncommon, but he's usually back a little closer to sunrise and the time Bob usually gets up for the day, so he cocks his head to a 45° and asks,

"What're you doin up so late?"

"Just don't say I never told you nothin'."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Robert. Goodnight."

"Suit yourself," he mutters, "shitheel."

Rust rolls his eyes but goes to unlock the door to his apartment without further comment. His keys clatter on the breakfast nook, and when he pads into the bedroom he finds her there, face crusted up with snot and dried blood. He finds her there, asleep on his mattress on the floor with her hands tucked up under her chin like a pair of swans. Close together, too, as if they were in quiet conversation about the day they'd had. He sighs, deeply, and heads back out to the sofa.

[somedayonbroadway]

Ok so: Oscar gets pushed into the semi frozen Hudson river by a gang of bored rich kids. Morris was held back by them until they decided they were bored and leaves. Morris get Oscar out of the water but doesn't know where to go that was near and warm because Oscar was experiencing hypothermia, they go to the Newboy Lodge House. How would the Newsies react?

I think it would go a little something like this…

Jack was putting the littles to bed when he heard the knocking on the door. He immediately went into protection mode. He stood up straight and rushed to the door, ready to peak out and fight off the bulls. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried to raid this place and take the boys for nothing. Race was behind him, ready to get the kids out if he needed to. But when Jack looked out through the crack in the door, he froze.

The knocking came again, harder this time. “Kelly! Open up! Come on!”

Race squinted. “Morris?” he asked.

Jack shushed him, reaching to open the doors. He was dumbfounded at the sight before him. Morris was standing there, holding a shivering, nearly blue Oscar against his chest. The younger boy was soaked to the bone and Morris had tear stains on his cheeks, but looked fairly dry despite the water dripping off of his brother. Morris looked up at Jack and Jack could see that the older boy had a bruise forming on his left cheek and a split lip. “S-some assholes pushed him into the fucking river… h-he can barely talk— I have nowhere ta take him,” Morris insisted.

The newsie looked over the brothers again. Oscar was definitely dazed. He didn’t even seem to know where they were. So Jack turned back to his second. “Racer, go get all the blankets we have. Get the littles into one bed to keep warm, Specs! I need water on the fire! Al, any extra clothes you can find!” Jack barked out before he rushed to help Oscar inside. He wrapped one of Oscar’s arms around his shoulder and Morris supported him from the other side.

They got him inside close to the fireplace and Jack helped lay him down, quickly taking out a pocket knife. Morris immediately scowled and grabbed his wrist, ready to fight but Jack looked up at him as his boys squared up behind him. “Hey!” he hissed. “We need to get him out of these clothes. I’m not gonna hurt him, okay?”

Race rushed back down the stairs with blankets and Morris grabbed him by the collar. Race gasped and immediately went wide eyed as Morris backed him into a wall. “Jack!” Race cried, not expecting the attack.

Jack raised his hands up in surrender. “Morris! What the actual hell?!”

The older boy’s eyes were watery. A tear fell down his cheek as he tightened a fist in Race’s shirt. “Don’t… I swear Kelly, I’ll—“

“No one is gonna hurt anyone, Delancey! Race brought blankets for Oscar, that’s all, I have ta get these clothes off of him before he freezes to death!” Jack hissed.

Morris tried to scowl through the fear, but he sniffled as tears began to freely fall down his cheeks. He shoved Race back as he lowered himself back down to his brother’s side. He slowly began to undress him, shoving Jack’s hands away when he tried to help. “Don’t touch him.”

Jack watched as Morris shakily unbuttoned Oscar’s vest. Oscar was trembling violently, his eyes trained on his big brother. “M-M… M-Mo—“

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you warm,” Morris promised, stripping Oscar down to his undergarments until he could conceal the younger boy beneath some blankets. He then let Jack help wrap Oscar up in about seven blankets.

The other boys did as Jack had asked and soon Morris was holding fast to Oscar as Jack sat with them. Race was whispering with Albert about how poorly Morris had treated them after simply trying to help, but Jack knew better than that. Morris was scared. He wasn’t sure he remembered ever seeing Morris like this. “What happened?” he whispered finally.

The older boy scowled. “Some rich bastards think it’s funny ta push a kid into the Hudson.”

Jack bit his lip. “They hurt you too?”

“Don’t pretend like you give a shit, Kelly. I came here cause of Os, I wouldn’t have asked if I had anywhere else ta go. This don’t make us friends—“

“I get it, Delancey, Jesus Christ, I’m sorry I asked,” Jack insisted, standing up and walking over to his boys. “Get up ta bed. Now,” he said before turning back to the brothers who made his life a living hell. “Your welcome, I guess. Feel free ta leave whenever,” he muttered, headed towards the stairs.

But Morris looked down at Oscar and sighed. “Kelly,” he called, causing Jack to pause. “Thanks…”

Jack didn’t respond. He just sighed and rushed up the stairs.

Morris sniffled and hugged Oscar a little tighter as he tried to warm up the boy.

“Well… this was a shit night, huh?” Morris muttered to himself.

Oscar snored slightly and cuddled up a little more to his brother’s chest. Morris wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He’d never been the touchy feely type. But he managed to brush a hand over the boy’s hair and sniffle as he let out a long breath. “We’re okay…” he promised. “I’m so sorry, Ozzie, it’s gonna be okay…”

And he just kept repeating it over and over again, praying it was true.

[walkingintheheartbreaksatellite]

Just For You

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Contains -Fluff, Smushy cuteness, LHH

Harry returns home to reader with a surprise in tow after hearing that she had a bad day and isn't feeling too much like herself.

(First time writing this way in a long time so I hope it's okay! This is for anyone having a down day and needing a pick me up!)

After a long day in the studio, all Harry wanted to do was go home to his girlfriend of 2 years. He had briefly spoken to her earlier but he could tell by the shake in her voice that she was not having a good day.

She had told him how her day had gone, though she kept it short as to not relive the day over again. She had been late to work due to problems with her car, her supervisor reprimanded her for her tardiness, and someone had eaten the lunch she had brought resulting in breaking her heart, as Harry had so graciously packed for her the night before.

He had decided to stop by the nearest grocery store, grabbing all her favorite comfort foods and drinks, a new fuzzy blanket, a couple face masks and some scented candles that she liked. Just to make sure she could relax from the grueling day she had.

As he was leaving the store, pushing the cart to his car, he heard a faint animal-like whimper. He looked around, surveying the area until he finally set his eyes on the owner of the whimper.

Under a nearby car, a smile set of eyes gazed up at him. Leaving his cart near his car, he approached the other car, crouching down and holding his hands out to the whimpering ball underneath.

"Hey, 's alright. 'M not gonna hurt you."

The whimpering ceases and out comes a small Pomeranian, covered in dirt, shaking in fear as he crawls into Harry's arms.

He inspects the small dog, seeing no collar to identify him. Right then he makes a decision. Y/N. Maybe this would be good for her...

"How about y' come home with me. Would you like that?"

The small ball of fluff barks in his arms, wagging his tail as Harry stands up, the dog barking in his arms as he returns to his car and unloads the cart into his car. He returns his cart to the cart return before proceeding to get into his car.

He settles himself in the drivers seat and settles the dog in the passenger seat. He quickly pulls out of the parking lot before making the small commute home. He pulls into his driveway and gets out of the car, quickly grabbing the bags he had bought earlier and making his way inside.

As he had expected, the downstairs is dark and quiet as he turns on the kitchen light and begins remove items from their bags, setting them on the kitchen island.

"Love! Will you please come down here for a sec?"

He yells through the house before quickly running back out to his car to grab her final surprise. He pulls the dog from the passenger seat, closes the door and locks it before heading back inside.

He stands in the doorway, his arms behind his back to hid the dog, and he sees Y/N walk into the the entry way. She's in one of his old t-shirts and some shorts,her eyes and cheeks red and puffy from crying. She looks to her boyfriend, a brow raised as she surveys his stance in the doorway.

"Why are you just standing in the doorway? Hurry up, it's cold."

He steps in and his arms move to the front of his body, revealing the dog in his hold.

Her eyes widen and he can't help but smile.

"Harry-"

"You've been wantin' a dog for a while now, right Y/N?"

Tears begin to spill from her eyes for the millionth time that day as she leaps to him, tackling him in a small hug. He laughs and holds her with one arm, the dog in the other.

The dog begins to lick her arm and she giggles, moving her hand to the top of his head before she starts to pet him.

"Oh Harry, where did you find him? He's so cute! But he's filthy!"

Harry nods and hands the dog to her, who then begins to lick all over the girl's face.

"I was just at the store gettin' some things when I found him. He was scared, no collar on him. So I thought maybe we could keep 'im."

She holds the dog close, despite his filth, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab her arm, dragging both her and the dog in to the kitchen. Her eyes rest on all the items on the island and she begins to tear up again.

"You did all this?"

He nods, a smile clear on his face.

"I wanted t' help you unwind, lovie. I hate seein' you cry. Tomorrow, we'll go to the store and get some things for this one. Starting with some food and maybe some soap for a bath!"

He pets the dog and is licked on the hand in return, causing the to laugh.

"So what are y' gonna name him, Y/N?"

She thinks for a minute before smiling and she starts to pet the dog again.

"How about Bean? Is that your name boy? Bean?"

The dog barks once more and licks her cheek.

"Welcome home, Bean. Mum and Dad love you so much already."

For the rest of the night, Harry curls up with his girl, watching movies, eating snacks and cuddling with their baby. Nothing could be better than that.

WC 964

Hope you enjoyed lovelies! Please like and reblog! Requests are open! Smut shot coming soon!

Tag List

@be-with-me-so-happily @freedomfireflies @harrysmimi @swiftmendeshoran @violetsandfluff @cherryscinema @kaminokatiee @fruitmansrecs @fruitmans

[selnyam]

B A S I C S

Name: Flidais Oakclamber

Nicknames: 'Dais, Fli, Pinky

Age: 156, though she is

Nameday: 19th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon

Race: Veena Viera

Gender: Female

Orientation: Polyamorous Lesbian

Profession: Adventurer, Bodyguard, Blacksmith, Carpenter

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: Pink Hair with dark tips

Eyes: Blue

Skin: Tanned

Tattoos/scars: Markings along either side of her nose (origin unknown) several scars from battle, deep scar encircling her throat that took her voice, which she covers with a choker

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unknown

Siblings: Tyjet, a twin 'sister', adopted as a sister by some of her Borlaqq friends

Grandparents: Uknown

In-laws and Other: Father-in-law on her wife's side

Pets: her trouble making Ruby Carbuncle "Ciabatta" he loves to steal clothing from Flidais and her visitors.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Formerly a powerful black mage, skilled Warrior, blacksmith, carpenter, bartending.

Hobbies: Reading, crafting, working out, flirting with women

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Seeks joy in everything, the world is so full of joy and love and she wants to share it with all.

Most Negative Trait: too quick to jump to violence, even if it's friendly sparring.

L I K E S

Colors: purples, pinks, blacks. Colours that go well with her hair

Smells: Campfire smoke, books, fresh baked pretzels, coffee

Textures: the lips of a lover, the cover of a book, the grain of wood as you strip the bark, sheets tangled around legs as you sleep.

Drinks: coffee, fruity teas, cherry ale, the "punchcat" she serves at her girlfriends bar

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Can't, it causes too many problems to her throat wounds

Drinks: Goes to bars to meet women, often

Drugs: Has never really tried any, just never came up. Strange with how much time she spent among the Pixies.

Mount Issuance: She has a Chocobo issued from the Twin Adders who followed her when she transferred to the Maelstrom. She named her Sapphobo and has been her stalwart companion.

Been Arrested: by the time she started to get into trouble, she was either such a powerful mage or so strong and buff that guards are intimidated to arrest her. I was tagged by @hazelkjt !!! this was fun to do! I'll tag @ariaofsasha and @isayoldbean and of course anyone else who wants to do it!

[janumun]

Right????? The blood stains on his jaw, the way his eyes glow red, how it says demon in the trailer, that s m i r k, that freaking v o i c e; the way he holds himself! J-Just the way he himself looks like he could wrap his hands around your neck; lift you from floor and yet still make you say thank you! I can't! I can't. x/////x I'm dying. I have never felt this attacked before! D-Don't freaking remind me of that shot! D///////x I'm already dying enough as it is!! I can't stop staring it why the hell is he so pretty???? Like no hell not even ' pretty! ' I don't say this often or at all but this man is majestic! Good, merciful fudge his v o i c e. Oh trust me I can completely understand that- I'm still not over that little trick that Zayne does with the ice; first with the cat and then the seal it's so freaking adorable- and I have just fought the Wanderer's with Rafayel for the first time; I'm only in chapter 3 currently but... I will be a thousand percent real with you I am finding it hard to concentrate much less simp over Xavier, Zayne or Rafayel when Sylus is presently living rent free in my head. x/////x A-Also... I... I can't believe I'm going to say this but... I-If.... This man wrecked something of mine ...b-bed, back or otherwise..I... c-can't say that I'd mind.. >////> Shoot me. I'm garbage. I can't. x/////x I don't think I've ever reacted this strongly about anyone before. ...... x/////x I feel like I was more or less drawn in to a bottomless abyss by Sylus. I am not going to think about panting, melting men for my own sanity. >////> B-But thank you. I am enjoying it so far; honestly more then I thought that I would. x///////x I feel like I would have to take you up on that offer regardless of whether or not I was feeling embarrassed to or not for the sake of my own sanity; so I appreciate it. I-I swear I am totally normal about this...Man... Demon... Whatever he is, hell maybe he's even a god with how his body looks like it was sculpted from them I have no freaking idea. I swear I am totally normal and sane about him. Yes. Absolutely. x////x T-Though.. That being said... ......... If you would ever consider writing about him then I would be begging down on my hands and knee's and would even offer up my kidney and possibly all my material and earthly possessions very.. extremely, e-eternally grateful. >////> Also if you tagged me in any... All. ...Please. [ You see nothing! D//////x ]

I am (s)creaming with you Juno! 😂😂😂♥️ You’ve described the feelings I’ve been unable to put into words (past BARK ARGH WOOF 😆) perfectly for this man. He is a beautiful man and I think the silver hair/red eyed combo was a devastating match on top of his personality and that sin-dripping voice 🌊

Show me what those fingers can do Sylus

Don’t be normal about him, be as crazy as you like with the rest of us, I don’t think Sylus would want you holding yourself back either, if you are to do some serious bed breaking together 🥴❤️

You will absolutely be hearing from me on the Sylus writing front (and on the evening news when I pull down Sylus’ pants and show Linkon an incident to rival the Chronorift Catastrophe *record scratch*) because there is no way I can keep my grabby hands all to myself! I need to get this man down and very filthy 😆🥴❤️

[calder]

"I'd use a bullet on myself, but with all these critters an' mobsters about it feels a waste, don't it?" -Clutch, about why he hasn't killed himself

Clutch Connors is a human male that can be found in the area south of Connors Farm. When approached he will bark a series of quips in a random order, sometimes based on player statistics.

"Razorgrain, rays-or-grain. Heh, yeah. I'll take the grain any day of the week.

Whatever happened to bullfrogs?

You jack off with that arm Mister Meaty? (If the Sacrificial Lamb has a Strength score of 7 or higher.)

'S okay pardner, I'm not much for books either. (If the Sacrificial Lamb's Intelligence is 3 or lower.)

Met a guy named Fallout once, ugly motherfucker.

What the fuck is a cow anyways?

I'm a centrist, 'cept when 'm not.

Don't ask me about roads.

War... What was it about war...?

Please, kill me. Just fucking kill me. Do it before the shmuck with the buttons makes you walk away. Please. (Has a rare chance of occurring if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Wild Wasteland trait.)

Clutch is involved in the quest Saint James Infirmary Blues and is one of the escaped patients the Sacrificial Lamb is tasked with rescuing, while the quest is active, you can speak to him and at first he will be apprehensive about returning, the player can either use a Speech check of 40 to convince him to return, or state that they'll take him there by force, after which he will become immediately hostile. If the Sacrificial Lamb has a Medicine skill of 70 or has Frankie in their party, they can determine that Clutch is not a danger to himself or anyone around him, but unless they can also get Weezel to confess to struggling with gender dysphoria and convince Rhonda Simmons to stop taking Day Tripper to hide her autism, the quest will not be marked as complete until they either kill him or convince him to go back to Dr. Rollins.

After the conclusion of St. James Infirmary Blues where he stays at the farm, Clutch will be hostile to any entities hostile to the Sacrificial Lamb in the area, and the player can initiate dialogue with him where he opens up about his struggles with suicidal thoughts and schizophrenia. After exhausting all dialogue options, every time the Sacrificial Lamb talks to Clutch, he has a chance to give a Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, Instamash, Pork n' Beans, Tin Can Grenade or Radweed Joint to them along with a random statement of gratitude.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thanks for not takin' me t' that funny farm.

Hey, I love you... don't make it weird.

Nobody's ever been that nice to me before, here, have this.

Hey, I like men too. (If the Sacrificial Lamb has the Black Widow perk)

Hey, I like men too... you're not my type, though. (If the Sacrificial Lamb has the Confirmed Bachelor perk)

From one motherfucker to another motherfucker, eh?

Hey don't tell Ma about this one. Heheh. (When giving a Radweed Joint)

If the Sacrificial Lamb instead takes him back to Dr. Rollins, he will be wearing a Patient's Gown and standing inside the New Unity Clinic, where if spoken to, he will normally be silent with the subtitles simply show "..." He has a small chance to whisper "Fuck you." and if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Wild Wasteland trait he can also say, "You know you'll lose Karma for this, right?" At the conclusion of the quest Bad Medicine, if Dr. Rollins is killed, he will sometimes stand over his corpse and talk to it with his arms crossed, regardless of if the Sacrificial Lamb kills Dr. Rollins or gets Ranger Sykes to arrest him, Clutch will eventually return to Connors Farm with his inventory reset, but will keep the barks from convincing him to return to the clinic.

Clutch's inventory contains a random amount of regular 10mm ammunition and one random special 10mm round (but he will have more if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Scrounger perk and kills him.) He is equipped with leather armor and a 10mm pistol. While staying at the New Unity Clinic, he is equipped with a patient gown and his inventory is empty.

Exhausting all of Clutch Connor's dialogue after completing Saint James Infirmary Blues without killing him or returning him to the clinic is essential to completing the Basket Case challenge and receiving its related perk.

Trivia

Clutch almost recites the classic phrase "War never changes." found throughout the Fallout series, but forgets the rest of the sentence.

His apprehension regarding the subject of roads may be a reference to players in Fallout: New Vegas being able to ask characters about the NCR-Legion conflict, where many of them will bring up the safety of roads. (citation needed)

His Wild Wasteland dialogue in the New Unity Clinic is a reference to Karma, a statistic that tracked the morality of players' actions in previous Fallout games.

Mister Meaty was the name of a puppet show that briefly aired on Nickelodeon from 2007-2008.

Glitches

Prior to Patch 1.03, Clutch would become immediately hostile to the Sacrificial Lamb upon starting Saint James Infirmary Blues.

Prior to Patch 1.17, Clutch would sometimes be dead of a gunshot wound if the Sacrificial Lamb approached him and then left Connors Farm without starting or completing Saint James Infirmary Blues. Using console commands to warp directly to the farm from the clinic will show that he was meant to be shooting at tin cans on a fence, but because the cans have no collision until picked up, if a caravan is walking by, he can hit one of the caravan guards, traveling merchants or pack brahmin, causing them to turn hostile and kill him before returning to their route.

Clutch will sometimes use the same combat barks as the Stargazer cultists or Infected Commandos

Clutch will sometimes say one of his perk or item dependent lines when giving the Sacrificial Lamb Pork n' Beans, regardless of if they have the prerequisite perk and not receiving a Radweed Joint.

If Dr. Rollins is spawned in front of Clutch after killing him during the quest Bad Medicine using console commands, he will still talk to him as if he was dead.

this seems to be an entertainment-oriented article for a bunch of fallout that doesnt exist. i have no idea of the context or joke but this was a fun read, thank you !

[in-need-of-gally-content]

|Chapter•Thirty•Four|

•|Masterlist|•

With a chuckle and feeling his face warming up, (M/n) stepped away from Gally and began making his way to where their friends were busy getting the bonfire ready. The weekly bonfires weren't as big as the greenie bonfires were, so there wasn't much to be done, however, the Builders always found a way to get distracted when they weren't working, so it took a while to get them to set it up.

However today seemed to be a different occasion as it did look like a greenie bonfire.

Approaching Alec and Mikah, he looked around for what he could do and spotted the chopped logs scattered nearby, so he crouched down to pick them up, but a foreign hand did it for him instead.

"What...?" Looking up, he saw Gally bending over to pick up those logs, glancing at him for a moment, "Really?"

"You're still recovering, you're not lifting heavy stuff yet, bean," (M/n) huffed and looked around them for a moment, noticing how the guys around immediately went back to what they were doing, making it too obvious that they were paying attention to what was happening between them.

"Clint said I'm okay, Gally, I can help," Gally stood straight once more, and (M/n) saw him reaching his hand out to him, which he took and stood next to the tall blond.

"Hm," Gally hummed with a sceptical expression as his green eyes looked at (M/n) up and down for a few seconds, "Yeah well... I'll be the judge of that, bean," and like always, he ruffled (M/n)'s (curly/wavy/straight) hair, chuckling at the sound of him huffing.

Crossing his arms, he watched how Gally walked toward the bonfire and began placing the logs in place. (M/n) sighed and made his way to one of the logs, sitting on it and watching his friends with a smile on his face. This situation has happened quite a few times, so he knew that arguing with Gally about being able to do work around wouldn't have a different result, so he gave in and simply watched.

Plus, he got to watch him playing around while doing some lifting, it was a win in his book as far as he's concerned.

///////

The Glade was buzzing with energy as dinner was served and everyone gathered around the fire, talking and laughing with each other.

Gally had made some of his non-alcoholic drink and was sitting with (M/n), telling him about his day.

He was rambling about how he got to play with Chuck and Bark for a while, before continuing to teach him some more wood carving and why keeping the wood chips was helpful around the Glade. (M/n) listened attentively and stared at him.

He looked so happy, his smile was wide and he was so cheerful, it made (M/n) melt internally, to him, there was nothing better than hearing Gally happily ramble about his day and seeing him smiling so brightly.

Gally continued talking for a while, until he realized the way he was being stared at, which made him stop abruptly, looking down slightly ashamed, "Uh, sorry... I talked too much..."

At that, (M/n) reached to hold Gally's hand, and maintained eye contact with the blond, "Don't apologize, big guy, actually... You can keep going," Gally looked at him, slightly puzzled.

"What... What do you mean, bean?" (M/n) chuckled and smiled at Gally.

"I like it when you're happy, Gally, and rambling looks good on you," he watched how, under the warm glow of the bonfire, Gally's face began turning slightly pink, but he turned away, feeling his stomach tingling and his heart beating faster.

"Oh... That's nice to hear..." He mumbled with a shy smile and a quiet giggle.

"Alright, everyone," the sound of Alby's grumbly voice caught everyone's attention as he stood up from his spot. Suddenly, the Glade was quiet, only the sound of the wood burning as it crackled was heard, accompanied by the occasional cricket chirping, "It's been a week since some of y'all did something incredibly stupid and immature," he looked at the Sloppers and the twins, who avoided Alby's stare, "Thankfully, we didn't lose anyone because of that, but I hope that this would serve as a lesson, a reminder... Of why the Glade changed and became what it is now."

(M/n) looked at Alby, a few images flashing in his mind at his words, images from the past, from before waking up in the box, memories that faded away when he felt Gally holding his hand, maybe just a little too tight but not enough to cause him pain.

"We're stuck here together. We only have each other. We've been through this before, so let's not keep repeating the same mistake," he announced while raising his cup, and everyone did as well. (M/n) and Gally used their free hand to raise their half-full cup in the air, "Let's become more understanding and respectful from now on, shanks."

The Glade cheered, some of them enthusiastically, and some not so much, but they cheered nonetheless.

As Alby sat back down, Newt stood up and the cheering slowly ceased. He fidgeted with his cup for a few seconds.

"I just wanna say..." His brown eyes landed on (M/n) and he pursed his lips," I'm glad you're okay, (M/n)."

There was something about Newt's voice that made him feel like tearing up, he wasn't sure what it was, but he could hear sincerity in Newt's words.

"And uh... I'm sorry."

With those last words, Newt sat back down in complete silence. Everyone wondered why Newt apologized to (M/n), and even (M/n) did, but... Something told that apology was meant for several things that, while not physically shown or done, Newt felt guilty about, maybe they were just passing thoughts he had, but he smiled and accepted the apology.

"Well... Who wants more food?" Fry exclaimed as he stood up, probably as a way to ease the slightly tense air that filled the Glade, and it was followed by a crowd of 'Me!'s.

//////

The next day, (M/n) realized one of his stitches had fallen off, so he went over to Clint to get the other ones removed, which went pretty well. He did have some issues lifting his arm and a few spots felt numb to the touch, which he figured was gonna happen anyway, so he thanked Clint for his job and they left the Homestead, immediately heading separate ways.

With the new weapon shed built, the Builders and Baggers had been helping around to carry the weapons from the basement to the shed. That's when he spotted Billy carrying a wooden bow.

He felt interested in that weapon and wondered if he could possibly learn some archery, after all, he hadn't really learned how to use a weapon yet.

(M/n) stood by the swing for a short while, maybe he could spot Gally and ask him, but he found himself making eye contact with... The twins.

He forced himself to smile at them, nodding as a greeting, and while they were surprised at his gesture, they nodded back, albeit with a frown on their faces. In moments like that, it was obvious they were twins, they were so perfectly in sync it was almost creepy.

And then Billy stopped by.

"Hey, (M/n)," they smiled at each other, but this time it was genuine, "How's your shoulder? And your leg?"

He looked down at himself, completely forgetting he had been stung until now. He didn't feel discomfort or pain, so he dismissed it. "I actually forgot about my leg, which is funny," he chuckled and so did Billy in response, "And my shoulder is getting better, it'll... Take a while before I can do stuff around normally, but I'm doing fine, Billy, thank you for asking," the Keeper nodded slowly and subtly nibbled on his bottom lip.

(M/n) glanced away, overlooking the way he was being stared at by Billy.

"Well, I have... Stuff to do, so, see you around," (M/n) watched as Billy began walking backwards, leaving him alone by the trees. He gave a small wave toward the Keeper before turning back to stare into the Deadheads, waiting for Gally to come by.

And... There he was.

"Gally," he turned his head at the sound of his name, his focus now turned to (M/n) who was making his way toward him.

"What's wrong, bean?" He saw (M/n) smiling for an instant, and that made him smile as well.

"Nothing's wrong, but I... Wanted to ask you something," Gally frowned and crossed his arms, changing his stance but keeping quiet to allow (M/n) to continue, "Can I practice with the bow?"

He sighed and stared into (M/n)'s eyes, "Can your shoulder handle the strain?"

Oh, he hadn't thought about that...

"I mean... We can check, can't we?" A cheeky smile grew on (M/n)'s face, and Gally shook his head from side to side a few times.

"Fine, but you're helping us make the arrows if any of them break," standing straight, he saluted and began following after the blond.

He was hoping for a few things, one, that his shoulder could take the strain, and two, that the arrows would stay in perfect-ish condition.

///////

Of course, neither of those things came true. He found out his shoulder wasn't quite ready to wield a bow, and he ended up breaking quite a few arrowheads as he was unable to hold the bow straight and aim correctly.

However, thankfully, he didn't have to work on making new arrows just yet because dinner was called, so Gally decided to get stuff fixed and done tomorrow after work.

After each grabbing their food, they sat at the Builders' table and began their unstoppable chattering. Everyone had a good time, even if there were times when he could feel heavy stares on him, and swiftly looking around the Dining area, he would find himself making eye contact with either Stan, Jason or Peter, amongst other Sloppers, thankfully, Lucas never looked his way, and if he did, (M/n) never caught him.

But whenever he would stare into their eyes, he would show them a small smile, trying to look as friendly as he could. Deciding to try and be friends with them was a tough decision, but it was the morally correct one, people do stupid klunk for stupid reasons, and he hoped that they would turn themselves right after what they did.

Maybe it was a lot to ask, or foolish of him to believe they would, but... He had hope.

Dinner went by just like that, slowly but surely being able to just ignore the stares and enjoy the time with his friends for the remaining hours of another day in the Glade.

Once they were done eating, (M/n) took a step outside the Homestead, ready to head over to his treehouse, needing the comfort and safety of his own room, immediately hearing the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. He knew who it was without even glancing behind him.

"Need anything, Gally?" The blond hummed and took longer strides until they were walking side to side.

"Nope, not really, why?" (M/n) grinned and looked at him, slightly confused yet amused.

"Then why are you following me?" Those words seemed to make Gally realize where they were as he looked around for a few seconds, "Let me guess... A habit?"

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, I got used to walking you to your room... Sorry..." He laughed nervously while avoiding eye contact.

(M/n) smiled at that.

"I mean, I might need help raising that ladder so... It's nice that you came after me," he bumped his side into Gally, making sure the blond knew he wasn't weirded out or mad at him, which worked to ease Gally's mind.

Soon enough, they arrived at (M/n)'s treehouse, greeting Bark who simply poked his snout out of his doghouse before snuggling back inside, and (M/n) did his best to climb up the stairs, holding most of his weight with his good arm, while Gally made sure he wouldn't fall off and hurt himself more.

Arriving at the balcony, he turned around with a huff and moved his hair away from his face, looking down at Gally, who had a tight grip on the wooden ladder, "You ready?" (M/n) nodded and held the top step of the ladder, getting ready to lift it.

Surprisingly, it was easier than he expected, and he didn't feel much pain in his shoulder, probably because Gally was the one doing most of the lifting, even when he could only reach upward so far.

"You good, bean?" (M/n) looked down at Gally, barely visible under the moonlight shining through the leaves of the trees, and he nodded as he sighed.

"Yep, thank you, Gal," they smiled at each other, despite knowing that the other couldn't see it, and (M/n) reached back to his door, "Well, good night."

"Yeah... Sleep well, see you tomorrow."

//////

"What about this one?" (M/n) grabbed a couple of stones and showed them to Gally, who glanced at each quickly, before pointing at the biggest one.

"That one works."

It was a new day in the Glade, and after being done with their daily work, or the majority of it, Gally and (M/n) had gone deep into the Deadheads to find stones and rocks, any kind that could work as an arrowhead and possibly other tools. They were searching for them near one of the few creeks that were in the woods and were having quite a chill, relaxing time, being able to be together in silence.

Which was unfortunately broken by the sound of rapid footsteps heading their way.

They stood straight and looked around, before noticing the approaching silhouettes of the Sloppers, more specifically, Stan, Peter and Lucas.

Both he and Gally got ready for a possible confrontation with them, and the blond stood slightly in front of (M/n) as a way to protect him from them. They frowned and watched how Stan came to a stop in front of them, and they waited for anything to happen.

"Why?!" Stan exclaimed while glaring at (M/n), whose frown deepened, "Why are you being such a bitch?! Uh?! Letting us go without a punishment?!" Gally and he glanced at each other momentarily before the arguing continued.

Stan kept yelling, angry at (M/n), exclaiming that he kept trying to fix things in the Glade with his understanding personality, constantly forgiving their slinthead behaviour for whatever reason.

(M/n) was beyond confused. Why was he mad, exactly? Stan almost sounded as if he wanted to be punished for his actions, which was weird, in a way. Or maybe he learned the meaning of "guilt" or "remorse", mayhaps, but that wasn't all he had to say.

"But you never understood how we felt with you around! A shucking girl!" Up until this point, (M/n) wasn't even mad or angry at Stan for what he was saying, but well...

He was now.

His jaw clenched and his hands closed in tight fists, taking a step forward and standing in front of Gally, getting closer to the Keeper of the Sloppers, "Maybe you're right, Stan, but you can't say that. Neither of you tried to understand how I felt here either, Stan." Confusion flashed in Stan's eyes for a moment, mostly hidden by the annoyance clear in them, "I woke up here like all of you did, I didn't choose to be here, okay? That's something you have no right blaming me for."

Before anyone could add anything, the sound of sticks breaking and crunchy leaves reached their ears.

Alby was standing there, arms crossed with Chuck and Ty peeking behind him. It was clear that both of them had called the Leader over, probably having heard Stan's voice as he yelled at them.

"Everything alright over here?" Stan looked away with a clenched jaw and huffed before turning around and leaving the same way he came. All pairs of eyes stayed on the Keeper until he disappeared behind the trees and (M/n) released a deep breath he didn't know he was holding, closing his head and tilting his head down.

"Yeah, just... A misunderstanding, I guess."

//////

The remaining time of the day, (M/n) tried to distract himself from what had happened earlier, and focused on what Gally and Kurt were explaining to him as they made the new arrowheads. They did it so quickly, it let (M/n) know just how accustomed they were to doing this, and he was kind of impressed.

For now, however, he was practicing on some of the "worse" stones and rocks they found, just to make sure he would learn and not ruin a good stone by accident, which he was grateful for because he did shucked up a couple of them, but he felt like he was getting there... Somehow.

He will be great at this one day, he can feel it.

He briefly looked up at both guys in front of him, and realized they were already assembling the heads onto the wood, while he was still figuring out how to make the correct shape without shattering the whole thing.

"I will get better at this..." He muttered, catching their attention, "One day..." They chuckled and Kurt shook his head before continuing what he was doing, while Gally observed how (M/n) focused back on the stone in his hands, concentrating on getting it as perfect as he could.

He let out a sigh and finished up with his arrow, just to stand up and make his way over to (M/n) sitting next to him, "Let me help you, bean."

(M/n) chuckled, slightly ashamed, "Sorry, big guy."

"Hm, it's okay, I like helping you," they made eye contact, but felt too embarrassed to do anything when one of their friends was literally sitting in front of them, so they looked away and focused back on making the arrows.

[crappymixtape]

all i want for christmas

steve got you what he hopes is the best christmas gift of all time, but he's nervous and afraid of being soft and vulnerable in front of everyone and what if you hate it, but you don't and it's perfect | (  1.5k, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

A L L I W A N T F O R C H R I S T M A S 🎶 christmas wrapping, the waitresses & 🎶 merry christmas darling, the carpenters

“C’mon, Henderson. You’re crinkling the paper! Christ, lemme do it,” Steve elbowed his way between Dustin and the present he was trying to wrap, shaking his head. “Have you ever wrapped a present before?” Steve gave him a look and Dustin scoffed.

“I’ll have you know I wrap presents every year with my mother and she tells me they’re perfect. Hm? Perfect. Thank you very much,” the younger boy frowned and shoved the box and tape at Steve. “But please, by all means, go right ahead.”

Robin snickered on the other side of the counter and Steve fixed her with a look. “You don’t have any room to talk,” he snipped, refolding the edge Dustin had just done to retape it.

“Is poor little Stevie nervous?”

Dustin snickered.

“You know I hate that,” Steve grumbled, keeping his focus on the task at hand.

“Sure do, and that’s why I love it,” Robin teased, grinning as she stood from her chair and came around to ruffle Dustin’s hair. “Look, Henderson and I got here way earlier than everyone else, to help I might add, and all we’re doing is sitting here watching you anxiety spiral. C’mon, Steve. They’re gonna be here soon.” She folded her arms over her chest and Dustin copied her, both of them staring a hole into Steve as he smoothed the last piece of tape over the wrapping.

Letting out an exasperated sigh he ran his hands through his hair for the fiftieth time that night, making him look more like Doc Brown than Steve “the hair” Harrington, “I know, I know, Jesus. Just gimme a minute, I’m thinking.”

It was the first time you’d all finally had time to actually do Christmas together and he’d offered his house for the party. Which, it did have plenty of space for everyone, and the tree in the living room looked incredible with the vaulted ceilings and glittering lights, but he was beginning to regret it. What if you hated his gift? What if he completely fucked it up? And in front of literally everyone no less.

“Harrington, get out of your head. Let us help,” Robin repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders as she leaned down to catch his eyes, “C’mon.”

“Yeah, she’s gonna totally freak out. It’s perfect, dunno why you’re so stressed out, buddy,” Dustin chimed in, taking the finished gift from the counter and nudging Steve’s arm with it. “I’ll go get it under the tree.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Steve sighed again and plopped down in the chair at the counter, drumming his fingers nervously on the marble top.

“Steve. Seriously. It’s sweet, she’s gonna love it,” Robin’s voice was softer and warmer after Dustin left the room. Covering his nervous fingers with her hand she gave it a gentle squeeze.

He grumbled at her, but Steve felt himself relax a little at Robin’s reassurance. Glancing up to meet her gaze, usual confidence shaky, his eyes were all big and full of worry, “You really think so?”

Giving him a big smile she shook her head, “Yes dingus, I know so. Now c’mon. We gotta get our shit together. You haven’t even put snacks out yet.”

“Shit. Okay, yeah c’mon,” and he hopped up from the chair feeling a little more confident, starting to bark orders at Robin and Dustin as soon as the younger boy came back from the living room.

Everyone else showed up almost exactly at the same time, the sound of Eddie’s van enough to tip anyone off, and when Steve opened the door it was like he’d broken a sound barrier.

“Harrington! Damn, nice digs, can I park my van here permanently?”

“Is your pool heated?? Just kidding! But seriously, is there a hot tub?”

“Here, Will made me bring– I mean, thanks for hosting, Steve. Merry Christmas.”

“If I don’t get new trucks for my board I swear to god…”

“Yeah, great, so glad you’re all here,” Steve’s face was a half grimace half smile as they all shoved past him into the house, descending on the snacks, hot cocoa, and peppermint schnapps. Nancy and Jonathan were the last to come in and when she saw the state he was in she gave him a small smile.

”They all love you, you know that, right?” she teased as Jonathan went into the kitchen with the others. Pulling Steve into a hug she grinned and gave his shoulder a small shove, “Your house is gonna totally be wrecked.”

“Amazing, incredible, just what I wanted to hear, Nance,” he groaned, but returned the hug anyway.

Holding him out at arm’s length she glanced over her shoulder, “She’s parking, but El hung back to distract her if you need a minute?”

Steve’s brow knitted together as he considered it. Did he need a minute? Your gift was already wrapped and tucked under the tree, just waiting for you to arrive, there was nothing else to be done but have you open it. “Uhh…” he hummed, still in his head about it, “N-no. No that’s alright. I’m ready.”

“Listen, Jonathan said the quality is great, and honestly that doesn’t even matter. If it were me opening it, I’d be a mess,” her tone was soft and kind and when she finally moved past him into the house Steve took in a deep breath and steadied himself.

It was fine. It was great. Everything was going to be totally amazing.

“Lucas! Seriously? Oh my god…seriously?” Max flung her hands around Lucas’ neck as everyone’s jaws dropped. This was the most animated, most emotional anyone had ever seen her as she ripped open a set of neon orange skateboard trucks and hot pink Slammer wheels. She was nearly in tears, but when she realized everyone was looking at her she sucked in a breath and shook her head, “Thanks, stalker.”

“Shit, Sinclair. Nice,” Steve muttered under his breath, ribbing the younger boy with a big grin. Lucas couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and he muttered something about it not being a big deal, but it totally was.

Then, one by one, everyone else went. Mike got Will a new art portfolio and a set of pastels, Jonathan opened a new Canon EOS-1 from Nancy, and Robin, El and Dustin went in together to get Eddie a new Warlock guitar – the other one got completely wrecked in the Upside Down – and he totally cried.

But then it was your turn and Steve’s leg was bouncing up and down and jittering the whole couch, and as Lucas passed it over to you, you felt your heart racing in your chest. “That one’s from Steve,” Dustin said, a huge shit-eating grin on his face, and everyone snickered.

“Shut up, Henderson,” Steve kicked at his foot.

“Thanks, Dustin,” you gave him a smile, but your eyes said quit it and he winked.

All eyes were on you. A flush rose in your cheeks as you slowly opened one side and then the other, but then tore the paper down the middle and Max snickered. I knew she’d rip it, she said to Lucas and you couldn’t help your smile.

The paper fell away and you were left holding a small, square, black book. Your brow furrowed in thought and you turned it over, eyes flicking up to glance at Steve who looked like he was about to pass out. “Open it,” Robin said for him.

Slowly you flipped open the cover and what you saw inside brought immediate tears to your eyes. Fitted in little corner frames were polaroids. Of you. You and Steve. You and the boys. You and Nance and Robin. You floating in the quarry over the summer. Steve drinking a beer by the pool. Eddie and Robin dumping snow on Dustin. Mike and Will asleep on the couch. Max trying to teach Lucas to skate.

Biting in your lower lip you tried to find your voice. “Steve,” came out wobbly, your throat tight as a few tears slipped down your cheek, but the smile on your face told him you were far from sad.

“Told you,” Dustin shoved Steve so hard he almost fell off the arm of the couch and everyone burst into laughter as Nancy quickly enlisted a few people to help make another round of hot cocoa and Robin rounded the rest up by asking all the questions about their new gifts.

You were still sitting on the couch looking through the pictures when you felt the cushion next to you sink, but you knew who it was. “Good? You like it?” his voice was smaller than usual, tentative, but you could hear a tiny smile in there somewhere and you shook your head.

“Are you kidding? This is the best present anyone’s given me…ever,” your voice was still wobbly as you closed the album, setting it carefully next to you before turning fully to face Steve, “I love it.”

He looked at you then like your words were the best present anyone had ever given him and the grin on his face was warm and bright and full like summer and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Yes,” he said, as if he’d just sunk a three-pointer, but then he took your face in his hands, smile softer, eyes all warm honey and caramel in the Christmas lights. “God I love you. Merry Christmas, baby,” and then he kissed you.

POLAROID CREDITS: https://www.pinterest.com/nicolebiasiolo/, https://www.pinterest.com/paulinaibarra0493/, https://www.pinterest.com/remi3s/, https://www.pinterest.com/ane05_/, https://www.pinterest.com/jazcast1/

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[waterfallofspace]

(if two requests is asking too much pls ignore, sorry 😭)

d/azai: 9, 52, 56, 64 (with c/huuya— maybe dark era?)

Not too much at all, thank you for another one!! I love answering these, S/oukoku are my absolute beloveds, it's never too much D/azai hehehe~~ 

Set in 'dark era' mildly, imagine them both as adults, probably around 19, before all the things go down, back when they're both working for the P/ort M/afia. 

2.1k, prompts 9, 52, 56, and 64, story under cut!

9. “You’re trembling.” 52. “Did you just sneeze?” 56. “Can you please come and get me?” 64. Mission in the rain.

(References to violence, injury, swearing, mildly high fever, and gunshots, just in case anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

Dazai’s predictions are as reliable as the air you breathe. Sometimes the details can get fuzzy, but at the end of it all, his results are unavoidable. This is a hassle for his enemies, making him one of the most dangerous adversaries. And frankly quite annoying. However, on some days, when his predictions come to pass in ways he was hoping to avoid, they can be just as annoying for him. 

Thoughts swirl around Dazai’s head, his dripping hair clinging to his flushed forehead. ‘I foresaw the rain, but I had hoped I wouldn’t be as feverish when it came. I guess even I can’t predict exactly how an illness will progress. Though I do wish I’d known it was going to make the pain so much worse.’ 

His hand drifts back to his leg, water mixing with the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d fashioned from a scarf one of the enemies had been wearing. ‘For someone covered in bandages, I actually don’t normally carry them on me. I should change that.’ Pulling the scarf tighter, pain seems to shoot through every nerve. 

“eNDxt-! hh’dZGt-!”

Dazai’s teeth clench, a faint groan crawling out from between them. The stifles send waves of burning shivers running from his head down through his arms to his fingertips. ‘I can’t get myself home like this. I’m not sure I could stand even if I wanted to… better call in backup. But who to call… someone who can see me like this…’

He lets his hands twitch, another sneeze being stalled on his breath as he reaches for his phone. The voice picks up instantly, Dazai smirking as the snarl the other man is wearing forms in his mind. 

“The fuck do you want?” 

“Chuuuuya~, can you pl- knDXt-! please come and get me?”

“Wh- what!?”

“I need y- inGZd’eh-! you to come pick me up.”

There’s a deep sigh through the phone, and what sounds like gunfire as Chuuya barks out an order. Dazai figures it’s still the mission Mori sent him on a few days ago. ‘Taking a while, usually he’d have wrapped it up by now. Must have been complications. I was supposed to go with, except a more urgent matter needed my attention.’ 

“Are you fucking serious?”

“kNT-nGT’eh-dnZNTT-! Yes, I’m serious. Hurry please~ it’s quite urgent.”

“What was that noise?”

“It’ll explain wh- eNDxT-! when you get here.”

Another round of yelling overtakes Chuuya’s side of the conversation, Dazai leaning the phone away with a wince as the noises seem to drill right into his skull. Finally it quiets down, Chuuya’s voice cutting through the silence again with a growl. 

“Can’t you call someone else? I dunno, Oda or something, why’s it gotta be me? I’m a tad busy.” 

“I’m- inGTD’eh-! trusting you with this- hH’knT-! mission. You are my partner after all.” 

“Ach. Fine, you bastard. But you’d better not be dead by the time I get there. Don’t wanna waste a trip.”

“hNgEdT-INgT-eh’kNd’eh-! See you when you get here.” 

The dial tone cuts through his last sentence, a sigh forming from the effort the call required. He lets his eyes fall shut,his head meeting the cold wall he’s leaning against. It almost seems to burn against his skin. ‘Because of the fever, I assume. Making the cold feel almost like electricity coursing through my body. Chuuya had better hurry.’ 

“You’re trembling.” 

Dazai’s eyes snap open, consciousness flooding back into his mind, a rush of pain following suit. He crushes his nose into a fist to starve off the reignited tickle while the other hand gingerly grazes his wounded leg. He manages to catalogue the rain still drenching him, Chuuya standing over him crossing his arms, and some amount of time he can no longer account for. 

“That h- happens when you’re l- left in the r- rain for- ndGT-! eh’kNXt-! d- days to fr- freeze to d- death.”

“Oh quit your whining, it’s been less than an hour. That’s impressive given I was across town.”

As Dazai feels Chuuya cold gaze, another shudder runs down his back, a smirk creeping across his face as it prompts a response laced with barely hidden guilt. 

“I got here as fast as I could, okay…?” 

‘You’re lucky it’s just us here, Chuuya. Anyone else might mistake your tone for caring~.’  The itch presents itself again, Dazai raising a hand to his face with a gasp as it climbs deeper into his sinuses. A burning starts to spread along his nose, Chuuya’s smirk only fanning his irritation. 

“ah’hNDeh-! knt’shh-! inGT’shh-!”

“Did you just sneeze?” 

“I- knGt’shh-! I certainly hope that was a sneeze and not- knGT’sshew-! my soul trying to- hh’nGT-! Escape.”

“I didn’t know you could make such dainty noises.”

The smile Dazai shoots in return is heavy, a deep air of false self-satisfaction plastered across the gesture. They both know Chuuya can see through him easily, and they both know he won’t act on this knowledge. ‘We’re both more comfortable with pretending I’m in control, like always. Despite what you may say, Chuuya, I know you better than anyone.’

“So, what exactly led to this pathetic display?” 

“Negotiations got a- ahH’INDGT’chh-! a bit out of hand. 

A blush tints Dazai’s cheeks as the stifle nearly breaks through, a violent sniffle falling through the cracks of his self-control. He flinches as the expression falters on Chuuya’s face, his blush apparently deeply visible against the rest of his utterly pale face.

“Eh?! A bit ou- you’re sitting on the ground bleeding, this is ‘a bit’?” 

“gnDT’shh-! ih’tND’eh-! It all went according to prediction.”

‘Except the severity of the fever… but he doesn’t need to know that.’ 

“You knew you were going to end up shot and laying on the ground?”

“I b- hh’enDT-! Believe I am sitting.” 

Chuuya snarls at him, fist clenching at his side as he seemingly resists the urge to throw a punch. ‘Probably a good thing for me. Not sure I could roll out of the way in time. Even if I did, it’d hurt something awful, and I’m not exactly keen on more pain at the moment.’ Dazai allows, electing to offer a small grin at the action.

“Did you at least get what you were sent for?”

“Do you really doubt me, Chuuya? hNNcH! heHh… nnDGT-! eNX’guh-!”

“Christ, Dazai.”

“eNGT’eh-! haHh… heP’ch-mmgNn’sh-hep’DNGT-! F- fuck… gNT’shh-!”

Dazai pretends he doesn’t notice the wince Chuuya lets out at the cursing as the stifles scrape through his throat. He’s switching from crushing his nose into his fist to fully pinching it shut. ‘They’re getting stronger, I can’t keep this up for long.’

“Mori sent you out here this sick?”

“I didn- hHnGT’eh-! eINXT-! Didn’t see the relevance in passing on su- such… hehhAH-! kNDT’chh-! eINGT’shh-! Such irrelevant information.”

“Irreleva- Damn it you idiot. You seriously didn’t tell him?!”

“nGT-! dnZT’chh-!”

“Well, guess it doesn’t matter now anyways. Can you walk?”

“N- hH’eNG’shh-! Not sure.”

Chuuya reaches down, stumbling a bit as Dazai leans into him, a hiss escaping as pain shoots through his leg. ‘I’m assuming the sickness is clouding my ability to ignore the pain, making it feel worse than it is. Normally an injury like this shouldn’t bother me.’ Another shiver runs through Dazai’s body, travelling through his arms into Chuuya, who turns a sharp eye to him. 

“If I could use gravity manipulation this would be a hell of a lot easier.”

“W- well sorry. N- not exactly m- my fault that I’m s- so special. hh’knChh-!” 

Dazai whips into his fist, aiming away from the man holding him up as another stifled fit pounds through his head. 

“dnCH-! inNGXT-! nnGT-! eh’INGt’shh-!”

“Ar-”

“inDksss-! eNGT-! heh…! hH’aENXT’chh-! ih’nnGXT’shh-!”

“Christ, Dazai. You’re gonna give me a headache. Just fucking sneeze.”

“Wh- inGt-! What is Chuuya talk- notagain… hH’enDG’eh-! nNGT-! kNXT’chh-! Talking about? I believe I am sne- sneehh…. hH’EDN’chh-! sneezing?”

Dazai meets Chuuya’s eyes just in time to catch the mist of concern that settles over them before they roll in his direction. They’ve stopped moving, much to Dazai’s dismay. Normally the rain hitting his head seeming to feel like gunfire would be the reason he’s annoyed, but right now he has bigger issues. His hair is soaked, and dripping onto his face, each droplet running down his nose leaving a trail of tickles in its wake.

“You know what I mean, you jackass. Just let them out.”

He crushes his nose into his fist again as another sneeze threatens to break through, determined not to follow Chuuya’s orders. ‘I don’t need to sneeze. I do- heh… don’t nee… need to…’ Chuuya’s voice cuts through his attempts, the vibrations in the air seeming to spread the itch even deeper.

“It can’t be any worse than the tiny squeaks you’re letting out now.” 

“Ch- chuhHAh-! Chuuya might have a point for once!” 

“Bastard.”

“heH-! keeshh-tisshh’ieschh’oo-!”

“Was… was that your sneeze…?”

“ieeshh’oo-! heh’tshhh’shoo-! inEShh’oo-!”

“You’re sounding practically feline, Dazai.”

A grin spreads across Chuuya’s face as Dazai leans into his hands with another tiny outburst. Managing to pry open his eyes long enough to make it out through the haze, Dazai offers a weak smile immersed in mischief.

“Seeing as you’re quite the fan of ‘felines’, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Eh?! Y- you-”

“In fact- tShh’oo-! heh’inshh’iew-! I believe you referred to a kitten as ‘cute’, didn’t y- hh’teEShhiew-! You?”

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“Awww~ Does that mean Chuuya j- eh’KNshh’oo-! hahh-! geshhiew-hepp’tishhiew-! Just called me adorable?” 

“I will drop you on your ass, you bandage waste.”

Chuuya’s glare is fierce, a scowl painted over his face, but Dazai can’t help but notice the way his grip tightens when another fit breaks out, keeping Dazai studied as he shakes. ‘Whatever you say, Chuuya~.’ 

“hH’knGT’shiew-! eh’iiashh’oo-! kenshhh’iew-! heh’gshh’deh-! hNG’deh-! d’eshh’oo-!”

“B- bless you…”

“What was that, Chuuuya~?”

“Bastard.”

“Ouch! Words sting you know. eh’kishhew-!”

“Fuck off.”

“What a dirty mouth you have!” 

Another glare is thrown his way, Dazai responding with a smile, the unsettling kind that he knows Chuuya hates. Sure enough, he feels a shudder run down the smaller man’s back. Unfortunately he doesn’t get to revel in this feeling as the earth starts to spin under his feet. Feeling the panic start to rise in his chest, Dazai’s feet slow as he attempts to let the feeling of water on his face keep his mind from shutting down.

“Chuuy-”

“Just shut up. We’re almo- hey!” 

Legs giving out from under him, Dazai lets out a mild gasp, the force sending both men to the ground. Chuuya manages to recover fast, turning the fall into a roll, but Dazai doesn’t fare as well, pain shooting through his leg as the wound meets the concrete. His eyes snap shut, a wince haunting his features.

“What the fuck do you think you’re- Oh shit, Dazai… just breathe okay? We’re almost there.”

“hh’kieshh’oo-!”

“Bless you.”

Dazai wants to respond, but his voice gets lost somewhere in his throat. Everything feels a bit too far away, the fog starting to spread through his vision distorting reality. He feels the panic rise once more in his chest, eyes frantically scanning for- ‘Chuuya. Just focus on Chuuya.’

His hand reaches up, gripping Chuuya’s arm. Normally such a gesture would earn him a kick to the chest, but instead Chuuya gently picks it up, bringing it to his chest. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut again, focusing his brain on Chuuya’s heartbeat.

“eh’hePShh’iew-! tieeshh’oo-!”

“Bless you, Dazai.” 

“Th- thank you…”

Dazai notices the way the heartbeat increases when he manages to get a word out. Chuuya lifts an arm, gently brushing the soaked hair from Dazai’s face, offering a silent invitation. It’s quickly accepted, Dazai letting his head fall onto Chuuya’s chest.

“Can you keep going..? Sitting in the rain isn’t gonna be helping your-”

“hNNshh’iew-! hep’pishhew-!”  

“That.” 

“I don’t know, Chuuya might have to carry me~.”

“Bastard. Get up.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes again with a huff, but Dazai doesn’t miss the relief in his voice. Using gravity manipulation Chuuya’s able to quickly jump to his feet, Dazai slowly following suit with a similar motion. He wavers for a second, Chuuya’s arm finding its way back around him as they cross the final stretch to the car. 

“hh’nGT-! dNTX’chh-!”

“Knock it off.”

“heH’iieeshh’oo-! yishheww-!”

“Better.”  

As soon as he climbs out of the rain, Dazai feels a wave of relief wash over him, the pounding in his head slowing to a dull thud. Chuuya climbs into the driver's seat, growling something about ‘getting my car soaked’ as Dazai lets the cool window relieve some of the heat from his cheeks.

“You gotta write up the report on this for Mori, I’m not doing it just because I saved your pathetic ass.”

“Aw Chuuya~ how sweet of you to offer to do it for me!”

“Wh- I literally just sai-”

Dazai lets his eyes flutter shut once more as Chuuya’s yelling fades into the background. You wouldn’t think it’s an easy sound to fall asleep to, but for Dazai? There’s almost nothing more soothing than the reminder that Chuuya’s there.

Because no matter what, if Chuuya’s there, he’s safe.