#i will hold onto the memories forged

[zahnffxiv]

we picked up where we left off and after a wild roller coaster of a ride, we managed to close the book on dsr!!

[wandering-winchesters]

Under the Stars

Summary: you share a quiet, intimate moment in the woods, where a simple hand-holding leads to a deeper connection under the starry night sky.

Word Count: 607

The evening was quiet, the kind of stillness that settled over the world just before twilight gave way to night. The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as you and Dean Winchester walked side by side down a winding path through the woods. The only sounds were the soft crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant call of an owl somewhere deep in the forest.

You had been walking in companionable silence for a while, both lost in thought, when you felt Dean’s gaze on you. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and the intensity in them made your heart skip a beat. There was something unspoken in that look, something that made the moment feel charged with electricity.

“Can I hold your hand?” Dean’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what your answer would be.

For a second, you didn’t respond, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his tone. This was the same Dean Winchester who had faced down monsters and demons without flinching, yet here he was, asking you something so simple, so human, with a kind of earnestness that made your heart ache.

Without a word, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. His grip was warm and firm, grounding you in that moment. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there, connected by that simple touch.

Dean let out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, and you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes, as if he had been afraid you might say no. He squeezed your hand gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t a big smile, not the usual cocky grin you were used to seeing, but something softer, more genuine.

As you continued walking, hand in hand, the silence between you felt different—more intimate. Every step you took seemed to sync up, the rhythm of your footsteps matching perfectly, as if you were both moving to the same unspoken beat. The connection between you felt natural, like it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

The path eventually led to a clearing, where the trees opened up to reveal a stunning view of the night sky. The stars were out in full force, twinkling like tiny diamonds scattered across a velvet canvas. You both stopped, taking in the beauty of the scene, and you felt Dean’s hand tighten slightly around yours, as if he were anchoring himself in the moment.

“I don’t do this much,” Dean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The whole… letting someone in thing. But with you, it feels different. Feels right.”

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling with emotion. “It feels right to me too, Dean.”

He smiled at that, a real smile this time, full of warmth and something that looked an awful lot like hope. You both stood there for a while, just holding hands, staring up at the stars, and enjoying the peacefulness of the night. It was a simple thing, really, but in that simplicity, there was a kind of magic—proof that sometimes, the most powerful connections are forged in the quietest moments.

And as the night deepened, you knew that this was a moment you would both hold onto, a memory that would stay with you no matter where the road took you next. Because in that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, you both found something you hadn’t even realized you were searching for—each other.

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[roguelov]

Okay, an idea that's been rattling my brain for awhile, BUT IMAGINE;

Morpheus has been thinking about asking you to marry him and when he finally decides he's going to do it, he sets up a whole romantic day and things go so well THAT HE COMPLETELY FORGETS TO ASK!

Que to like 2-3 months later, Morpheus ask you something about the wedding and you're so confused because "What wedding?" That's when he realizes that he completely forgot to ask and he just starts ranting to himself mostly while you just sit there listening then you finally interrupt him to say "I would love to marry you".

HE WOULD HE WOULD SO DO THAT

Morpheus slid up behind you, pressing his lips into your temple. You let out a gentle hum then smiled at him, “Well, hello to you.”

Morpheus’s eyes softened. “Hello.”

You spun around and threw your arms over his neck. “And what brings you here?”

He wrapped his arms around you. “A bit of business.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I wanted to get started on wedding preparations.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry did you just say … wedding?”

Morpheus tensed up. Why were you confused? “Yes, our wedding … did you have something else in mind for our union?”

You pulled away from him, now utterly baffled. “Morpheus, you - you never proposed.”

Morpheus almost felt a bit angry. He did. He planned such a wondrous day a few months prior. He meticulously arranged all the details from the dinner down to petals on the flowers he created for you. He brought you to a part of the Dreaming then -

Oh. Oh no.

Morpheus’s eyes flickered down to the silver band on his hand. A ring he wore to show his love to you, a ring that matched yours. However, his eyes darted to your hand finding it empty.

Hot embarrassment washed over him. And frankly, you had never seen him so flustered. He glanced away from you. A tint of red poured into his cheeks as he tried to take slow even breaths.

“Morpheus?” You stepped forward. You cupped his face bringing his attention back onto you. “Talk to me.”

He sighed heavily. He placed his hands onto of yours, holding onto your wrists. “Apologies my dear, it seemed I got ahead of myself … or forgotten in my daze.”

You cocked your head.

“Do you remember a few months ago when I planned a day for us?”

Your eyes sparkled at the memory. “How could I forget?”

He smiled - one of those small rare smile. “Yes, well, in all my planning I forgot one thing … I wanted to propose.”

Your breath hitched.

“Forgive me, I was -“

“Yes.”

Morpheus blinked. “Pardon?”

“Yes, I want to marry you.”

Morpheus forced himself out of his stupor. “I - I did not -“

“You don’t have to do anything. You asked and I’m giving you an answer … although I suppose you never outright asked but it doesn’t matter,” you chuckled.

Morpheus shook his head, hiding his smile. He stepped out of your grasp then slowly knelt down before you. “You may not need to hear it, but I wish to speak it.”

He stretched out his palm and with a swirl of sand a ring box appeared. He opened the box revealing a silver band, a ring forged from starlight. You gasped.

“My dear, would I have the honor of calling you mine forever? Will you marry me?” He spoke so softly yet his usual calm tone was laced with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes. “Of course, you idiot.”

Morpheus let out a small laugh. He slipped the ring on your finger. You immediately pulled him up to his feet then kissed him.

Pulling away, you laughed while happy tears streamed down your cheeks. Morpheus only smiled wiping them away. “Ok, now, we can start planning for a wedding,” you joked.

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters' Favorite Body Part of Yours

Another one I did for LoTR a while back but not The Hobbit so here we go 😌 warning: slightly suggestive at times, one minor swear

Balin

Upon first asking, you might not know, may not even so much as consider your love as having a favorite. Greater thought yields memory, however, a realization. Balin has a soft spot for your forehead- loves pressing kisses there, quick bursts of reassurance when you are under stress or sick. Moments of affection for all to see, pure, loving, gentle. That would also explain his habit of playfully butting his forehead to yours or the way he keeps you connected before and after longer kisses.

Dwalin

It’s no secret how much Dwalin adores your legs- his eyes are ever upon you as you throw them over a saddle, bare them to wade, rest them atop his lap and give him a pretty smile when he strokes them. Straddling him is a quick way to catch his attention and earn a smile to boot, your dwarf’s hands going immediately to rub circles on your hips and his eyes completely caught up in you. Whispers of all kinds of affections make their way between you as Dwalin savors the moment, pressing your bodies as close as he can get them.

Thorin

An anchor can always be found simply by looking into your eyes. A fount of trust and care, one look can take Thorin miles in calm and reassurance, especially when it feels like all is against him. Your eyes speak volumes even if your expression is kept in steel, aiding Thorin in his quest to fulfil all your desires. Memorizing every change in your eyes is his greatest goal, forging a connection so strong you needn't any words to convey it. You look to his, too, glancing at him in moments of amusement, derision, desire. All of them bonding you further and further, warming his heart to know he is the first you wish to see, just as you are the first thought in the king's own mind.

Oin

Your chest. Not so much for the stereotypical reasons, but simply because of the way it literally holds your heart. Your gentle rhythm, your very source of life and the warmth Oin seeks out again and again. He secretly loves resting his head there where he can listen to it, let it lull him to sleep. If you allow it the healer’s lips will find purchase there, peppering their love over your heart and along your beautiful collarbones in appreciation of the wonderful life you are.

Gloin

His hands run over or comb through your hair about as often as they can; no matter the length of it, no matter the texture or the way you wear it you will have a guardian of your hair in Gloin. He makes no secret how proud he is of the honor he’s received to be the only one that can touch it. And alright, yes, perhaps he likes to show it off, too! If it is long enough, he braids your hair as soon as you consent to it, and he’ll bother his brother again and again for anything that helps care for it. Even the most elaborate of styles and routines will become second nature to him- soon you will not even be lifting a finger. The others say he’s spoiling you, to which he says “Damn right!”

Bifur

Your hands hold a special place in Bifur's heart; they symbolize your willingness to learn, the opening of your heart to someone so many closed off to, and who closed off to them in turn. The little gestures you made chipping away at his heart and bolstering his faith. You seek his attention, wave them to show him little wonders just as he does. They form words and phrases, sometimes even capturing thoughts you wish to share with no one but him. Even when static, they can communicate much- how tightly you hold onto his, the way they rest against his chest right above his heartbeat, trace his cheek to initiate a kiss he never thought he'd earn.

Bofur

Can’t resist your lips. They’re like the sweetest of candies, the greatest prize he gets to claim and him alone. Bofur never takes for granted his luck, practically worshipping your lips as he takes his sweet time with them. And who else does he have to thank for your gorgeous smile, the blessing of sunshine it brings to the world? His mission in life is to keep that smile sticking around as much as possible. And if it’s against his own smile, why he won’t complain in the slightest, simply surrendering to the wash of euphoria and thanking his lucky stars.

Bombur

Your cheeks, of course! Irresistibly adorable, Bombur loves to see the curve of them as you smile, any flush that might be visible, especially if you are feeling shy. Of course he loves to kiss them, holding you steady and peppering them with sweet love at any opportunity. Even before longer, more passionate kisses he will make his way along your cheeks first. Bombur wants to be the only one to wipe your beautiful face of any tears that may befall it, his touch so gentle as he comforts you, swiping his thumb over your cheek before you're in his arms completely, enveloped in each other's lovely warmth.

Dori

Dori loves your eyes; he often describes how when you first met, he could see your heart straight through them. Windows to the soul, subtle tells of emotion and love and things otherwise unseen, he loves to gaze into them as long as you let him. There is a kindness, a sympathy to them that grounds Dori, gives him faith when his has left him, brings calm. He loves also the way they darken, the burns of passion, flames of battle, or even looks of beckoning desire flaring up from deeper within. Such is part of why he so enjoys nights where you lay facing one another, tracing every shift in those very windows, the access one can gain from study.

Nori

Obsessed with your hips. Loves gripping them to pull you against his chest, especially if they have plenty of soft flesh to dig his fingers into. Sneaks up behind you to wrap his hands around them and press kisses to your neck. Having a hand wrapped protectively around your hip or reaching into your pocket are moments of clear intimacy, a way for Nori to show off that you're his and he's yours, no one else's. The feeling of your hips against his is pure bliss, so tug him in upon the beltloops of his trousers to give him a grin nothing will wipe off!

Ori

Your entire face is his favorite, the ever-changing expressions and of course your smile. He can try to capture each and every variation, but that would take an age. As long as he wishes he could have with you. Your smile is like pure sunshine to him, your every furrow and twitch a treasure trove of information he hopes to be able to read like a book to be at your side with what you need in an instant. Your face projects your heart and soul in the most encapsulating, beautiful way, and the very sight of it never fails to bring Ori a rush of emotion.

Fili

He favors your thighs, loves the sturdy form of them and the soft skin of he can dig his hands into. Revels ever in the sensation of your legs tangling with his every time you sit together and he holds you on his lap, gesture of lifting you up onto him punctuated with a squeeze or two or three. Your shared moments of leisure are nothing short of treasure, the way you face him and peer into his eyes, one arms slung around your waist and the other hand tracing patterns on your thigh, falling into your warmth and softness like a trap he never wants to escape.

Kili

Shows a lot of love to your shoulders. He has his habit of kissing all the way up to your arm, but you also notice it when he playfully comes up behind you and lifts you off your feet, burying his head between your neck and shoulders. If your hair is long, sweeping it off your shoulder to replace it with his cheek or lips is so utterly romantic in Kili's mind. Same goes for baring them, sliding your top down or playfully unbuttoning it for access. And what better way to help you relax after a strenuous day than a massage, running his hands gently over your shoulders and kneading tension from your neck and back?

Bilbo

There's just something about your nose- the shape of it, the little ways it twitches and gives away the smallest expressions. Wrinkling in displeasure often shared with Bilbo himself and bringing moments of laughter amidst everything. A look shared between you two, after all, speaks volumes and strengthens your bond all at once, bringing a smile to Bilbo's face that he has one he can read so well. In your more affectionate moments the hobbit loves to pull you close, placing a kiss upon your adorable nose before moving down to peck your lips again and again, his own curving upward in contentment at your proximity.

Lindir

Your hands. True works of art and their creators all in one. Purveyors of your passion, be they plucking instruments, spreading paint across a canvas, delicately turning pages upon discoveries… Lindir could watch them work forever. Not to mention the shivers that run down his spine when they fall upon him, the sparks when those very same hands that bring forth beauty and command passion caress his face, bringing him eagerly to your delicious lips. Much as he enjoys their actions in freedom, sometimes he desires to keep them for himself, holding their warmth in his, intertwining your beautiful fingers and kissing the back of your hand to display the very connection of your souls.

Thranduil

Your neck, oh that gorgeous expanse, is the subject of much attention by Thranduil. Trailing kisses up its entirety before claiming your lips, even letting his teeth sink in ever so slightly. The woodland king's favorite method of distracting you while you work is to sneak his way behind you, hands reaching to your waist, head tilting, lips upon your neck. You can practically feel them smirk against you at the way you automatically tilt your own head to grant him access. Thranduil wants all to see that you belong to him, not as a possession, but as a promise he works to honor in all facets; thus, he indulges his love of adorning you with the most extravagant jewels he can find, standing you against his chest as he drapes his gift over your neck. For who but the king could provide such things? Tracing his hand over the jewels, he kisses your collarbones before his lips seek their favorite home.

Bard

There is something so alluring about your back- the way it is bared only for him, the tensing and shifting of muscles beneath flesh and the wonderful soft bits he can hold onto. Unable to resist running his hands up and down your spine when he holds and kisses you, Bard gets double the pleasure feeling the shivers he sends running down your skin. Plus such an area is a much more discreet place for love bites he may leave when he holds you from behind, placing kissed along your shoulders and neck.

Beorn

Beorn admires your arms. The strength they carry, the ripple of muscle with their every motion. Beyond the practical, he appreciates also the softer moments, the times you both surrender to vulnerability, arms wrapping tenderly around each other and your head falling against him gently. Trust for so long was a rarity, and yet her he is giving it, surrendering to your arms. In pauses from work Beorn often strides over to stand at your back, his hands rubbing your shoulders and trailing down your arms as he beckons you to come rest. Your eagerness brings rare smiles to his face and the way you flex your muscles even gets a laugh out of him.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[x-uno]

Cigarette Kiss.

Pairing : OPLA!sanji x reader

summary : "Cigarette Kiss." follows an unexpected late-night encounter between Sanji and the reader, both unable to sleep. When Sanji realizes he's forgotten his lighter, the reader extends a gesture of assistance by lighting his cigarette with her own. This simple act of sharing a flame kindles an intimate connection that transcends words. Amidst the quiet of the night, they discover that even the smallest moments can forge the strongest bonds.

notes : OK, SANJI BRAINROT,, HE'S SO AKSKAJSHKAJHSKAJSA <333333 AAAAAAAAAAAAA - I GOT THE GIF FROM :

| 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

It was a restless night aboard the Going Merry. The soft hum of the ship's engines provided an eerie backdrop to the darkness that enveloped the ship. Most of the crew had retired to their quarters, seeking respite from the turbulent dreams that plagued their minds. But two souls found themselves awake, unable to find solace in slumber.

Sanji had tossed and turned in his bunk for what felt like hours. His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of memories, regrets, and unanswered questions. Unable to find any peace, he decided to make his way to the kitchen early to prepare breakfast, hoping that the familiar routine would offer some solace.

As he quietly padded through the dimly lit hallways of the ship, he noticed a faint glow coming from the deck. Curiosity piqued, he made his way outside and found you sitting there, gazing up at the star-studded sky. Your presence surprised him, he hadn't expected anyone else to be awake at this hour.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked softly, approaching you.

You turned to him, eyes reflecting the shimmering starlight. "Oh, Sanji, I thought I was the only one."

He offered a faint smile, grateful for the company. "It seems we're both plagued by restless thoughts tonight, Madam."

You both sat in companionable silence for a while, the quiet of the night broken only by the gentle lapping of the sea against the ship's hull. You had your own set of worries, your own burdens that kept you awake. But in this shared moment of vulnerability, you found a connection that eased your troubled heart.

Sanji reached into his pocket, intending to light a cigarette to calm his nerves. He retrieved it and placed it between his lips, only to realize his mistake— he had forgotten to bring a lighter with him. 

Noticing his predicament, you lifted your own lit cigarette to your lips, you carefully and deliberately directed his attention towards you by gently holding his chin. In that precise moment, your eyes locked onto his, and the world seemed to condense into an intimate space occupied solely by the two of you.

With your faces inching closer together, the gentle glow of the ember illuminated your features, bathing you both in a warm and intimate light. Sanji's surprise and pleasure were mirrored in your eyes as you held the cigarettes together. The flicker of his smile and the warmth in his cheeks were unmistakable as he fully comprehended the unspoken gesture you were extending.

As you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches apart, the shared act of lighting the cigarette became more than just a practical solution; it was a moment of quiet bonding. Sanji's inhale brought his cigarette to life, its ember glowing brightly in tandem with yours.

The world outside might have been chaotic and unpredictable, but in this shared moment, there was a sense of tranquility and unity. The subtle chemistry between you and Sanji transcended words, and the flickering glow of your cigarettes became a symbol of the connection that had formed between you.

As you both leaned back, exhaling tendrils of smoke into the night air, the initial frustration over the forgotten lighter had transformed into a unique shared memory. It was a moment that spoke volumes about mutual understanding, and the unexpected beauty that could emerge from even the most minor setbacks.

"You know," Sanji began, breaking the silence, "I never expected to find another soul awake at this hour, especially out here."

You responded with a soft chuckle, your voice carrying a hint of affection. "Restlessness has a funny way of bringing people together, even in the darkest hours of the night."

taglist: reply to be added !

© 2023 x-uno ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. 

[sleepybbie]

(going on anon bc im shy WHEHDHD🫡)

but how about a drabble of like, having a quickie with yingxing in his workshop or something 🤭🤭

bonus point if hes being a tease and kept edging you, forcing you to keep begging even tho he kept denying u anyways :3

𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒚 | yingxing (blade) drabble

a/n: SHSHHSJA I LOVE U SM FOR THIS ISTG (>w<) ♡ since i’m a bit biased (i am) i low-key made this drabble more longer than i originally planned to be ;w; but that shows how i love him sm

yingxing (blade) x fem!reader

warning: smutty drabble below! mentions of past!blade so there’s spoilers too ૮ • ﻌ - ა

you’d be lying to yourself if you say you didn’t enjoy watching your lover work on his weapon forges.

it wasn’t rare to anyone in the xianzhou that YINGXING was a very hard worker when it comes to crafting masterpieces of a weapon, glands of sweat rolling down his forehead to his forearm before wiping it away with ease. no wonder jingliu wanted him to be the one forging the weapons for the high cloud quintet; not only they were easy to hold and durable, but they have a strong impact of slashes that were even hard to destroy.

he gives in a lot of effort to his creations. therefore, he spends most of his time on his crafting table to make sure they were perfect. every weapon he forges, he smiles as he creates a new masterpiece and takes his time.

but how could he forget such a cute darling like you?

if there’s one thing you knew about your lover, is that he likes to tease, make you pout when he gets the chance. it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him as he hammers down a weapon, it wasn’t your fault you find it so hot when he rolls his sleeve down his sweaty arms during the heating process, it wasn’t your fault why you visit his smithy looking so alluring and ethereal in a new short gown baiheng gifted to you in order to show it to him, and it’s absolutely not your fault why the small items from his table (including the blueprints) were scattered onto the ground while you’re being fucked in his workshop.

…this is a different kind of “risky” he’s giving you, a memory that might be in your head for a couple of weeks, or even months because of how good he was slamming his hips onto that spot of yours over and over. you have no idea whether his workshop was soundproof, you’re scared if ever dan feng were to visit him—after all, that high elder often comes in without warning. he finds it endearing, how your soft smile when you entered his forging area was now shifted into a mouth that cries his name on repeat like he just damaged your brain.

he promised to make this quick since he still has some forgery to finish. you don’t want him to be distracted when he’s already so focused, do you?

“ngh..! ha..! ah! y-yingxing…!”

your helpless and breathless mewls just seemed to turn him on more along with the way your hands clawed its way onto his damp neck, pushing your legs further up to wrap around his waist as he fucks into that spot of yours, repeating his ruthless thrusts while he pants heavily over your shoulder. it was sticky, you both were getting sticky; it’s obvious you were close, the pain your nails were digging on his attire was certainly giving a sign. who wouldn’t? his tip penetrating deep inside on your cervix was already enough to send you over the edge.

“p-please…wan…wanna cum..!”

“not until i say so, sweetheart..” he breathes into your neck, taking in that scent of yours like a pervert as he grins, “be obedient and wait for my signal..”

you hated when he does this, so teasing…you’ve been a good girl, right? so why? you teared up a little, and that just riled something inside of him more.

suddenly without warning, yingxing lifts you up off his desk, carrying your body until you back hit the wall, pushing his cock back inside of your sobbing puffy cunt like he was running out of time. he didn’t give time to rub himself in you, he just straight up pushes himself in. yingxing picks up the pace, pushing his tongue into your mouth while carrying your legs, balancing your body in order for you not to fall back from the wall. he’s strong..as expected from one of the strongest in the luofu. you’re full on crying, drooling spill past both of your lips before he pulls away with a smile. he’s close too…you can see it from the way he bites down his lip, blood drawing out, shutting his eyes when you clenched down on him.

now you both were even.

“are you keeping it in?”

“p-please, please, please…wanna…cum, yingxing…!”

“just a little more…i—

he was cut off with a grunt, pushing you back up on the wall after you almost fell down. were you so fucked out from his thrusts it made you unable to hold yourself? he chuckles.

“that was close, huh? as i was saying..just a little more, darling…and then you can cum..”

god, this was unfair. it’s so much..it’s only been a past minute when you both decided for a quick-quick, yet the smithy was a mess with the scent of sex. dan feng was definitely going to question this after..

“c’mon…almost there..” he goes even more faster, you swore your eyes were gouging at the back of your head when it hits that soft spot in your walls over and over, feeling semen spill out little by little, his thrusts sloppier..holy shit, you were seeing the aeons at this point. yingxing had a vice grip over your thighs as he holds you tight, your head bumping on the wall behind you, hard. you could hear him curse underneath his breath.

“y-yingxing, please…!”

“shit…you wanna cum? come, my darling, let’s do it together..”

and with one last thrust, his lips on yours to silence your moans, the coil in your stomach was cut along with his, cum spilling down past your legs as you whined loudly in his mouth—ribbons of his release shooting inside of you, breeding you basically. your poor cunt spills his thick seed, tickling down to his legs and onto the floor. fucking messy, and fucking filthy.

he didn’t dare to drop you while you both catch your breath, after all he didn’t want you to be hurt. yingxing holds you tight, leaving a small mark over your neck as he pulls out, watching his dick soften, along with his release spilling out of you. he thinks you’re pretty, he knows you’re pretty, including with that new fucked our expression of yours. he kisses your cheek, to your nose and on your forehead. he smiles, acting like he didn’t fucked you like a goddamn beast.

“want to buy something with me at the market? i forgot i need more materials.”

this guy…

an: hehe! i love yingxing ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[soap-ify]

GLADIOLUS | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

cw — angst, heavy suicidal tendencies, simon is NOT okay, he is depressed, mentions of death, hurt/no comfort but there's comfort too if that makes sense, bittersweet ending. [1.4k]

italic paragraphs mean flashback!

Cold and stale, the tea in Simon’s hand had long lost its heat. Almost like a cruel mockery of his own life, slowly losing the warmth that made him a human, reducing him to nothing but a breathing corpse.

A waste.

“I think my life’s too short for our love.”

His words caused you to look at him with confusion, trying to mask the inner turmoil brewing in your head at his sickeningly vague words.

“Sorry?” Though you had heard him well, you still wanted him to repeat it, to hear his voice once more.

Simon sighed and put the tea cup aside, having no energy left within him to drink anything, or even do anything. Trapped by the chains he couldn’t see, maybe just simply forged by his own brain. Brown irises soon looked over at you, still holding the same fondness as all the other times.

“I…” He paused momentarily, the thoughts in his head too loud yet distant. “My life. S’too short to love you properly in the way you deserve.”

“Don’t say that, Si. It’s more than enough.” You smiled and placed a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. Your words were like a sweet lullaby, calming him a bit. A bit.

So he stayed quiet and nodded, pretending that he was fine now, letting you stay in this false bubble he had made up for you both — tranquil and domestic. A paradox to his actual life.

Simon had been overly fascinated by knives lately. Even guns. Not by their beauty, but by the damage they could inflict. He’d let his gloved thumb caress the sharp edge of his knife sometimes, wondering what it’d be like to just stab it into his neck at this very moment.

Some poor unfortunate soldier would find him lying in his own blood, completely oblivious to how contentful he’d be.

Other times, Simon would fiddle with one of his guns, awful intrusive thoughts invading his head, making him feel overly sick. What if he just presses the barrel against his forehead, his finger on the trigger. One click and he’d be gone for good.

Was it selfish to want to die? Simon couldn’t even point out why he feels this way, or since when. All he knows is that nothing helps anymore. Well, you do, sometimes. Though he’d rather have you not see this damaged man rotting himself away more and more. He loves you too much for that.

Was it really selfish to want to die? All he wanted was to leave behind everything, leave behind the blood on his hands and the deaths he had seen, leave behind the memories and just fly away, finally free from the chains suffocating him.

He wanted to become the air, and you’d be his sunlight then — both of you dancing around each other everyday, together once again.

Maybe he could be better for you that way.

“Si.” You poked Simon’s arm, momentarily interrupting his quiet reading. Not that he minded though.

“Yeah?”

“I want to ask you something.” The mild shyness adorning your face sparked his curiousity, causing him to put his book aside and turn all of his attention onto you.

“Go on.” He urged softly.

“Um… Do you think we’d be together in every universe?” You felt silly for asking a question like that, blood rushing to your cheeks while your eyes looked away.

Simon paused for a second, brown eyes softening up as he studied your expression. Together in every universe? God, he’d do anything for that. Anything to love you in every life of his.

“Yeah.” He grumbled softly after a while, a poor attempt to appear nonchalant, though it failed as soon as you hugged his arm happily, making him chuckle under his breath.

“I’ll find you in every universe.”

Gladiolus. It’s a pretty flower, though Simon doesn’t like it just for its beauty. He feels oddly connected to it, uncomfortably exposed — even though he didn’t know why. Could flowers even speak to you?

Which is why he decided not to pick them, turning away to look at some other options. It was his little routine to bring you flowers whenever he could. Though this time, it was different.

A mission — a suicide mission. He was dreading the moment he would have to announce it to you, knowing that he couldn’t back out from it anymore. That was his job. All the dirty stuff.

It was hard, too hard. Watching you collapse in his arms while sobbing in pure devastation absolutely tore his heart, his arms holding you tightly while your fingers hardly dug into his arms, trying to touch him whole.

“M’sorry, love. It was just… supposed to happen one day.”

He couldn’t really recognise the words coming out of his mouth anymore, not really knowing what to say. He couldn’t give you false promises, especially when you both knew the severity of this situation.

Laying on the ground, drenched in blood, wasn’t that bad. He felt a sickening relief that made him feel nauseous yet happy at the same time. His hand was pressed against the severe bleeding wound on his stomach, fatal coughs leaving his mouth while he weakly stared at the sky, the sounds of shouts and gunshots too distant and blurry. It was as if he was slowly slipping away into a bubble that carried him away from this battleground and into somewhere calmer.

At least I didn’t kill myself with that damn gun, he thought to himself, smiling weakly. At least there wouldn’t be any nightmare anymore, no more sleepless nights and random outbursts. Peace. The beauty of death slowly engulfed him, wrapping her arms around him and slowly taking him away from this damned life.

You. He lost consciousness thinking about you — about how he left you back at home, about how he wasn’t strong enough to just retire from the military once you moved into his place.

I’m sorry, words he could desperately say, I’m sorry for not being strong for you.

Though right before dying, he made an oath to himself that if there was even a tiny chance of him living another life after this, he’d find you.

It was another one of those sunny days where you wished you had enough funds to fix the damn air conditioner. Your fingers silently put the last gladiolus into the bouquet one of the old ladies around the town had requested, the sweet scent of flowers soothing your senses.

The soft jingle of the door opening averted your gaze from the bouquet, your eyes falling onto your new customer walking into the flower shop. The sheer size of this mine caught you off guard, though you were quick to scold yourself for being so invested into someone’s height.

“Welcome. How can I help you?” You smiled politely and put the bouquet aside. Once those brown eyes of his met yours, both of you went dead silent for a split second, a strange spark igniting somewhere in between you.

He seemed… familiar. You were sure that you haven't seen him ever in your life, but something about him made you feel as if you knew him. Your fingers twitch involuntarily, feeling as if they had run through those dirty blonde hair off his.

He stared at you with, internally equally bewildered. His lips were slightly agape behind the black surgical mask he wore, for which he was glad for since you couldn’t see the soft shade of red slowly spreading on his cheeks. Why were you so familiar? He felt an odd pang in his chest, making him momentarily forget about why he was even here.

Oh yes, flowers.

“Can I have some roses?” He grumbled under his breath, quickly looking away as he reached for his wallet. “S’my mom’s birthday today.”

“That’s sweet. Happy birthday to her.” You looked away alongside him, a soft bashful smile creeping up on your lips as you began grabbing some newly fresh roses.

It was silent for a while between you both before he eventually broke the thickening silence, clearing his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks. Um… My name’s Simon, by the way.” God, he was awkward at this.

You stared at him for a second before letting out a soft giggle, introducing yourself. “Here are your flowers, Simon.”

He felt as if he had been searching for you his whole life.

[thescarletnargacuga]

CHANDELIER

A HARLEQUIN AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

Inspired by THIS

WARNING: alcohol and a bit suggestive

Caine slouched heavily in his chair as he drained an entire bottle of liquor in his mouth. The bitter liquid sloshed over his teeth, dribbled down his chest and over his exposed heart. The numbing rush of alcohol relaxed him further. He tossed the empty bottle, and it shattered against the pile of other empties. He groaned into the silence of his study as he stretched. "Finally...a good buzz." He leaned his chair back with his feet up on his desk with the intent on taking a short nap.

The door slammed open with the force of a raging bull. "CAINE!!"

He jumped and the chair fell backwards. His legs folded over his head, landing ass up. "Hello Pomni, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He was muffled from his own body weight holding down his mouth.

"You know DAMN well why I'm here!" She threw her sword unceremoniously onto his desk, it was warped and covered in strange burn marks. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SWORD!?" She was seething from every pore.

Caine struggled to right himself. He flopped over on his side and slowly climbed the desk to his knees. He blinked the haze from his eyes and focused on the heavily damaged weapon in front of him. He was pretty far gone and his memory was as clear as a foggy day at sea. "Uh....I don't know...." He answered honestly.

She grabbed him by the collar from her side of the desk and yanked him to his feet. She spoke through her teeth, her eyes promised death. "What do you mean you don't know? It didn't magically end up like this."

That sobered him up a bit. "Actually, now that you mention it, that is probably exactly how it ended up like that. I think I was tinkering and I had some ideas to improve your weapon." He chuckled nervously.

"Let me get this straight. You STOLE my sword. BROKE it. Then PUT IT BACK LIKE I WOULDN'T NOTICE!?" She was ready to start kicking him across the manor.

Caine snapped into survival mode. "POMNI, Pomni, whatever happened can be fixed, I assure you. I just need some time, alright? I don't remember anything after I started tinkering. I- uh...." He looked to the side.

Pomni's eyes followed his to the pile of broken bottles. She let go of him and he dropped to the desk top chest first. "Are you kidding me? You were drinking while working?? What is WRONG with you!?"

He stood and fixed his shirt. "A lot, my dear. But we aren't ready for that conversation." He picked up the damaged sword and examined it as best he could through his drunken stupor. He couldn't make heads or tails of what he had done, but it was bad. The sword's structural integrity was completely compromised and was barely in one piece. He put it back down and took another bottle out of the top drawer of his desk.

Pomni snatched the bottle. "What are you doing? You need to fix my sword!"

"My dear, even if I sobered up right this second, I'm afraid that sword is useless. The damage is far too extensive. I'll have to forge you a whole new one, and that will take time."

"WHAT!?!? You-! Why-! ARGH!" She tore the cork out of the bottle with her teeth and started chugging. It was either do that or kill Caine, but if she did that, she'd have no sword.

Caine breathed a sigh of relief. That was the closest he'd been to death in awhile. He brought out yet another bottle and leaned against the desk to top off his lost drunkenness.

Pomni got half way through her bottle before she took a breath. She steadied herself against the desk next to Caine, taking a few more swigs of the strong drink.

Caine set his bottle down as the alcohol poured against his heart. "I'm sorry, Pomni. I promise you'll have a new sword as soon as possible. You have my word."

Pomni scoffed. "As if your word means much."

Caine looked down. "It's...not what it used to be. Like a lot of things. But, when I say I'll do something for you, I mean it. I hope you can trust me that far."

Pomni wiped a dribble of drink from her chin. "I trust you enough to know you'll save your own skin by making me a new sword."

"...fair enough." He threw the newly emptied bottle on the pile.

A stiff silence fell between them. Pomni polished off her bottle and she started to feel lighter. The anger successfully drowned and she felt more relaxed. "You got more?" She added her bottle to the collection of the broken and empty.

Caine went to a bookshelf and pulled a huge tome from its place. He opened it to reveal two purple bottles hidden in the pages. "As if that's really a question." He smirked and handed her one as he took the other for himself. He put the large book back. "This is a special blend. My own creation. Don't let the size of bottle fool you, it packs a hell of a punch."

"Don't worry, Caine. When it comes to you, size has never mattered." She said dryly.

He dropped his bottle in his mouth, losing grip in surprise. "What's that supposed to mean??" He coughed.

Pomni laughed at his flustered reaction. "I refuse to elaborate." She threw back her drink. The liquid made her feel warm from the inside out. She swayed in place as the alcohol took effect and the world started to tilt. "God, you weren't kidding. This is....wow."

"I'm afraid that was the last in my study, but there's plenty more in the lounge." He dramatically offered his arm to her like a gentleman. "Shall I escort you, my dear?"

She shoved him away by the face. "No." She unsteadily showed herself out, Caine trailing behind.

They tore the lounge apart looking for the secret stashes Caine had hidden everywhere. Bottle after bottle, they downed everything they found until they were chasing each other around like children for each find.

"Give it to me!" Pomni tackled Caine's legs and he tripped. The bottle rolled under a lounger and they scrambled after it. Caine shoved Pomni to the side and stuck his arm under the furniture. He almost had it when Pomni grabbed his ankles and dragged him out of reach. "I said that's mine!"

"I found it first!" Caine kicked his legs free and used his cane to fish the bottle out of its hiding place. The bottle rolled over a rug and he tried to grab the corner to pull it closer but Pomni got the other end first. They tug-of-wared with the rug. Caine braced himself against a heavy table from the floor and Pomni leaned her whole body weight from a standing position. The table leg gave out, forcing Caine to let go of the rug to save himself from the falling table. Pomni stumbled backwards from her own strength. The rug whipped the bottle up into the air and it got caught in the chandelier. They both looked at the out of reach drink and then each other.

"MINE!" Pomni got to her feet quickly and starting climbing the furniture. She jumped, completely missed and belly flopped in the fountain.

Caine lost his mind with laughter. "Please, tell me that wasn't your plan? You're better than that."

Pomni gave Caine a dirty look as she rolled out of the fountain, soaked, and drunkenly ran at the wall. She did a perfect wall jump entirely by chance and grabbed the bottom of the chandelier. "Wooo!" She cheered as she swung.

Caine climbed on a ornate dresser, getting himself just within reach of Pomni's legs. "Hold tight!" He grabbed on and started climbing her.

"Wha- HEY!" She tried to shake him off without letting go of the chandelier. She couldn't make that wall jump twice in a row if she tried.

"Hold still! You're making this difficult!" He used what little focus he had left to keep his grip on her respectful. Her wet clothes clung to her figure and he did his best to imagine he was just climbing a weird screaming rope.

"YOU'RE the one making this difficult! I can't climb up with you holding me down! Let go!" Her grip held fast but she couldn't hold it forever.

"Give me a minute, woman! You're so impatient!" He wrapped his legs around her waist to free his arms and reach the chandelier himself. Pomni was too focused on her target to really think about the position they were in. Caine released his leg lock on her when he had a good hold on the chandelier. "There. Better?"

"Much." She kicked him.

"OW! Why!?" He angled his hips away from her keep his groin clear of her wrath.

"A lot of reasons, but mostly because I felt like it." She started hoisting herself up.

Caine struggled from his position. The swinging of the chandelier mixed with the copious amount of drink he had that day made him feel dizzy.

Pomni stood on the chandelier, holding onto the chain connected to the ceiling for balance, and claimed her prize. "Yes!" She held the bottle up, victorious. "I told you it was mine!" She started swinging the chandelier, watching Caine struggle to hold on. "Having fun down there!?"

Caine narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh yeah? You wanna swing!? Let's SWING!" He fought through the dizziness out of pure spite and swung his legs with the chandelier, making it arc higher and higher until it was apexing mere inches from the ceiling.

Pomni held tight but her own drunken state made balancing on a violently swinging pendulum nearly impossible. She slipped and her legs caught as she hung outside down in front of Caine. She still held onto the bottle.

Caine kicked off the ceiling when the chandelier swung to the highest point, pushing them down even faster. The force of the swing sent the chandelier crashing into the ceiling on the other side. Caine used the momentum to grab the bottle and fall away from Pomni. She watched in shock as she swung away with the chandelier, legs still stuck. He blew her a kiss goodbye and fell back first into the fountain with her bottle.

Pomni frantically tried to free herself. Her legs were stuck tight but she managed to wiggle them free as the chandelier swung back around towards Caine.

Caine pulled himself out of the fountain. Drenched and disheveled, he sat on the edge with his prize. "Finally-" He was tackled from above by the mistle that was Pomni. They both went into the fountain again. The water wasn't deep but it was enough to submerge in when laying down. They thrashed like angry sharks as they both had a hold on the bottle and wrestled wet tooth and nail to keep it.

Caine managed to stand up again, trying to pull the bottle from Pomni but she used his force against him. She lunged forward, pushing him off balance and over the edge of the fountain. She kept her hold on the bottle so she fell with him. Caine laid out on the floor with his arms over his head, his hands held down under the bottle and Pomni. She straddled his waist to keep him from rolling away. Caine couldn't move but still had grip on the bottle. Pomni had Caine immobilized because she held the bottle down on him, she couldn't move either or he'd get away.

"It seems...we're at...a stalemate." Caine gasped.

"Yeah...again." Pomni was just as out of breath.

Caine gave a breathy chuckle. "We really need to stop meeting like this." He looked up at her with a smile. He wasn't going to complain in the slightest about how the fight ended.

Pomni got a mischievous glint in her eye and leaned forward. Her face inches from his. "Why? Sick of me already?"

His eyes widened and he felt the heat in his chest rush to his face. He couldn't stop himself from stealing a glance at her lips. "Never. I-..." He stopped himself. He shouldn't say it. He was drunk, not stupid. Pomni leaned closer. Now only a whisper away, if he moved even a centimeter, he'd touch her. He felt her boozed breath on his gums.

"You what? What's on that clever mind of yours?" Her voice was a sultry whisper that sent shivers down Caine's entire being. The heat is his face decreased in favor of being elsewhere in that moment. He lost himself in her eyes, she was rarely this close to him without trying to also kill him.

"I...I-" He couldn't get more that out before Pomni was gone. She snatched the bottle from his loosened grip and rolled away from him. Caine laid there stunned over what just happened.

Pomni popped the cork, dropped herself on the nearest comfortable surface and took a victory swig.

"That vixen." Caine muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe it. She'd successfully used a mind game against him. He was both incredibly proud and ashamed that it worked. He sat up and gave her a slow clap. "Well done. Very well done, my dear. You've earned that drink."

She held the bottle up to him in salute. "You put up a hell of a fight for it. Is this your last one or something?"

"Nope." He hit his elbow against the base of the fountain and another compartment opened to reveal several more bottles. He took one and poured a small amount over his tongue.

Pomni gaped. She shouldn't be surprised, but that made her question how many hidden spots there had to be all over the manor if there were this many just in the lounge. She looked around, taking in the damage they did to the room. From the hole in the ceiling where the chandelier crashed into it to the broken furniture to the soaked floor around the fountain. "Ragatha's gonna have a cow when she sees this."

Caine shrugged. "She'll get over it. It's just stuff. Stuff can be fixed."

"Unlike us." Pomni sighed and leaned her head back.

"Hey now, don't start depression spiraling on me." Caine went to her and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled forward into him as she found her footing. He had one hand on her, one on a bottle. "I think there's plenty more trouble we could get ourselves into. This is supposed to be freeing, my dear."

"It has been. I managed to kick your ass didn't I?" She grinned.

"Only because you resorted to low dirty tactics." He grumbled

She looked at him smugly. "You enjoyed it."

"Did not."

"Do I have your word on that?" She smirked.

His words caught in his throat.

Pomni chuckled. "Thought so."

"You're going to be the death of me." Caine resigned.

They stumbled off together to find entertainment elsewhere, arms over each other. After they left the room, the damaged chandelier finally came loose from the ceiling and crashed to the floor.

[chatonarya]

Let’s talk about Degenbrecher’s module. 

It’s called ‘Footnotes of The Past.’ The title itself is worth mentioning due to her battle line, “Still soaking yourself in the past?” The past is also referenced in her EP, “Blade Catcher”: “There’s a shadow I can’t keep at bay in my past but I don’t let it shake me; cut the cord with the edge of my sword but I’ll never find escape. That’s the key to the fortress you see, when it all knocks me down I’m still upright.” 

Degenbrecher doesn’t hold onto the past: although this “shadow” of hers (her hard childhood and status as an outcast) has made her who she is today, she doesn’t let it drag her down, but rather, her refusal to shy away from it is the source of her strength. So these stories that she’s sharing can indeed be said to be footnotes: anecdotes of a chequered past which remain fond memories of an ongoing tale.

The text itself is about her most-frequently worn medals, for which she has a case exclusively for storing them, and her sharing their significance with Rhodes HR. For easier reference, I’ve included a high resolution image of her medals alongside, so that we might get a closer look at them compared to her sprite. 

Knight-Champion of Kazimierz Medal

Black medal of crossed swordbreakers, lying unassumingly in center of case. Design makes it immediately clear that Kazimierz tailored this champion's medal to her. She reigned for three straight years and so was given three, but only the first was personally awarded to her by the Grand Knight after usurping the defender. Which is why she didn't throw it away, and why it's the one artifact of Kazimierz she still carries with her. 'Commemorative enough, barely.'

The one artifact of Kazimierz Degenbrecher yet retains: her first medal of her first championship, specifically made for her. This is the only one that matters to her. Per her own words, her first victory was to prove herself, and perhaps only her first still holds any importance or significance to her, not in the least because of the Grand Knight giving her the medal. Naturally, Degenbrecher’s first victory would be the most significant, as she basically came from nowhere as the challenger and defeated the previous champion. This victory probably feels the most like a genuine achievement for her, before Kazimierz became “boring,” in her own words, and the other knights gave up on even attempting to defeat her. 

Secondly, it would appear, and I hypothesize, that it wasn’t merely the fact that the Grand Knight—Ioleta Russell—personally gave Degenbrecher this medal, but rather, something occurred during this event that left a mark on Degenbrecher. Degenbrecher does not care for status, but she respects strength and she is fascinated by the aspirations of the strong. I believe it’s possible that she felt some recognition in being presented with this medal by Ioleta (who would appear to be very strong to Degenbrecher), but in addition, that perhaps they shared some enlightening conversation that left a mark on her and perhaps began to steer her thoughts elsewhere in her quest to find a suitable aspiration and see how the lives of people who have them end, even before Degenbrecher herself grew disenchanted and disappointed with Kazimierz.

'Thanks'

Inverted triangle inscribed with Kjerag's holy Mount Karlan. Not issued by any official organization, rather forged for her by clan head Ratatos at the request of a household under Browntail rule. Degenbrecher had rescued said household's members from an avalanche. 'This first one was almost ten years ago now. I know they meant it nicely, and I don't mind how it looks. But the news spread, and now I get one of these medals from the Tri-Clans any time I do something similar. The cupboard at home is full of them.'

A simple medal of gratitude, almost ten years old, thereby dating it to not long after Degenbrecher arrived in Kjerag. It’s likely either her first or second medal after the Silverashes’, and the fact that it was the very first one is probably why she wears it, particularly given that it sparked a trend of the three clans gifting her medals on the regular—something which is quite adorable, I must say. Degenbrecher performs an act of heroism, and she receives a medal. Does she receive them even for minor things, I wonder? Do the clans squabble over who gets to give her medals, who’s given her more? She apparently has a whole collection now!

But this one—this one retains sentimental value for her. I speculate that perhaps it’s because this was the first token of genuine gratitude from complete strangers that she received, and perhaps the fact that the people rescued desperately wanted to do something to thank her touched her in some way.

‘The Silverashes’ Sword and Shield.’

Second medal from the left, sword and shield motif. All of Karlan Trade knows that those wearing this medal are free to act unimpeded wherever Karlan Trade is concerned. Initially a pass designed expressly for her by Enciodes, but as soon became apparent, nobody simply overlooks the presence of Degenbrecher. Its worth these days is instead in gently reminding others that she is affiliated with Karlan Trade. 'One day, I forgot to wear this one. Enciodes went that entire day quieter than usual, then in the end asked if I had any complaints with the company.'

It’s incredibly adorable how Enciodes apparently personally and “expressly” designed this medal for Degenbrecher as a token of their friendship to allow her to come and go freely through Karlan Trade, and basically anywhere Silverash-affiliated: it’s basically a friendship bracelet—I mean, badge, despite its name. Also, look at just how cute it is—it has a little pawprint in the center! Suddenly, the reason he named his secret squadron Tschäggättä is clear—he’s still twelve years inside.

Even more hilarious, the one day she forgot to wear it, he immediately had an internal meltdown and overreaction assuming that surely it was because she didn’t like him anymore, and he spent the whole day effectively moping and panicking about it until he mustered up the courage to ask her if she had any problems with him. “Oh no, she's not wearing my friendship medal, she must hate me now!” Never mind that Degenbrecher of all people would never hesitate to tell him if she had any problems with him. I wonder how that conversation went down at the end of the day.

But actually, let’s think about it a little further. Degenbrecher has apparently faithfully worn this medal day in and day out for years and years, yet one day, she goes without it. Would it not be natural for Enciodes’s thoughts to stray towards the idea that she is holding some sort grudge towards him or is upset about something? And while it’s almost certainly his own dramatic nature flaring up here, I can’t help but feel this is also a marker of how much he values Degenbrecher’s friendship that he so worries over her potential offense in regards to something so small.

Finally, note the mention that now, instead of the medal giving her pass through Karlan Trade, it serves to remind others of her affiliation: she’s become so integrated in Kjerag that perhaps people forget that she actually has allegiance to the company (which we can see in RS). (It also explains more about Enciodes’s internal unease, though it’s not really clear when specifically that anecdote happened.)

'Kjeragandr's Soldier'

Third medal, honorary decoration issued by the Vine-Bear Court, was worn by Enya herself when she formally became the Saintess. 'This was the biggest protest the Saintess could make back then. I don't think much in particular about Kjeragandr—at most, I think I'd like to take Her on.'

We see Degenbrecher here echoing her comments from RS: if given a chance, she would like to fight Kjeragandr, but other than that, she doesn’t have any strong feelings about her. Nevertheless, Degenbrecher accepted this medal, and wears it for what I speculate is either a feeling of empathy or solidarity: Sharp calls Degenbrecher a “symbol of rebellion” in Break The Ice, and we know how much she hates being controlled. Perhaps she saw Enya’s rebellion against the stifling Court by giving away her medal to a non-Kjerag, and accepted it because she could understand or because she felt it would be ungracious not to. Wearing it now, perhaps she feels at this time that she is a soldier of Kjeragandr, or at least, of Kjerag, which after the events of RS doesn’t seem that far-fetched either, and now the medal has at last achieved its meaning in the most literal way.

Finally, I’d like to note that this medal shares its emblem with the one on Enciodes’s belt buckle in his newest skin Never-Melting Ice, where I’m guessing he’s taken on the role of commander of the Walnut battleship. As I speculated before, that he has it is a symbol of recognition from a party which has historically opposed him—the Vine-Bear Court—though it’s unknown at the moment specifically why he has it.

‘Ten Years.’

To mark ten years of acquaintance, Enciodes rustled up a little gift for her, effectively commemorating her Karlan Trade decennial at the same time. It may not have been founded when they first met, but the blueprints were already laid out in his heart. 'I didn't even recall what it was commemorating when he gave me this. A token of thanks, I suppose, but I'm sure he just wanted to let me know that he still remembered the big words he said back when it all began.'

Her fourth most valued medal, and perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s from Enciodes again. A gesture of commemorating their friendship, her ten years with Karlan Trade, and effectively Karlan Trade’s ten years as well as the company got off the ground with her aid. It’s only too bad that I can’t quite make out the design of it despite best efforts.

It’s interesting and in fact quite sweet that Degenbrecher can easily infer the meaning behind Enciodes’s gesture, though he does not say so. She understands him very well, to the point where her first thought was not regarding the Karlan Trade decennial, but rather, even beyond her guessing it was a gesture of gratitude like her numerous other medals, she immediately grasps with certainty that he meant something more: he’s reminding her that he still remembers how everything began, and he feels it necessary and appropriate to remind her of this, and likely, he also knows that she will understand its meaning. Effectively, through this gift, Enciodes is telling her, “It’s been ten years, but I still hold the same convictions, aspirations, and motivations I still held when we first met. I want you to know that I haven’t forgotten any of those things despite the time. I may have changed since then, but this part of me has not.”

In addition, Enciodes making this gesture of gratitude almost seems to echo Enya’s comments to Kjera at the end of RS about how taking things for granted means one loses respect for them, and also alludes to Enciodes’s comments about his debt to Degenbrecher growing and growing. He knows he has no way to repay her, but he’s trying to at least express his gratitude although she doesn’t care about debt, and to show he doesn’t take her continued presence for granted either. It’s yet another instance of Enciodes treating Degenbrecher as his friend rather than the “sword” she claims she is to him; he genuinely wishes to remind her that despite it all, at heart he’s still the person she met back then.

And Degenbrecher acknowledges and appreciates this sentiment and this gesture, and so she also has placed this medal upon her breast as among her most valued. One medal from him when Karlan Trade first began, and another for the decennial. Fitting, isn’t it? Much like the way her first one shows her affiliation with Karlan Trade, this one is proof of her continued allegiance—an allegiance which will continue further on in the future.

Finally, let’s round this out by looking at the other items in the artwork, as they were surely included because they’re of some importance to her. Although it’s unfortunately difficult to make out what else is in the case other than her Kazimierz badge (likely it’s more medals), we can see a few other things on the side just beneath the case. What are they?

Just beneath the case’s handle, we can see a dagger, likely the one she wears on her thigh. One of Gnosis’s, perhaps? It’s almost assured he gave her one, given their close relationship, and that would be reason alone for it to be considered special to her. Remember, Degenbrecher uses her swordbreakers because they are instruments of blunt damage and it’s easier for her to control her strength when she needs to avoid killing someone. Yet here is an item that would likely be small and fiddly for her, not to mention fragile and largely unneeded—why would Degenbrecher of all people need a self-defense dagger, even in the worst case scenario? Nevertheless, it’s there on her leg, and there amongst her most prized items, effectively all of which were gifts as well. Clearly, it must be of some sentimental value, and ergo I postulate it’s from Gnosis.

Next up, under the dagger is her Kjerag armband. We don’t know who gave her this, but we do know it’s an emblem of allegiance that many Kjerag-affiliated characters and NPCs wear. The fact that she chooses to wear it is yet another marker of her belonging to Kjerag.

Beneath her armband is a coiled chain; it’s difficult to tell what it is, precisely, if it’s a necklace or if it’s the chain that functions as the strap of her broadsword. I’m inclined to think that’s what it is, as Degenbrecher doesn’t strike me as someone who cares very much for jewelry, and her sword would naturally be packed for travel.

And of course, front and center, her trademark swordbreakers. Interestingly, her promotion file states that she had no weapon but the hilt of her greatsword when she left Kazimierz, broken by a Darksteel arrow, and upon arrival to Kjerag her swordbreakers were “crafted by the Karlan Trade artisans.” Given that Karlan Trade at the time didn’t really comprise of much or many people, and given that their initial product was bottled spring water, I can’t help but wonder who those artisans were—or if it was, in fact, Gnosis once again. After all, if he knows how to make daggers, surely he would know how to make swords (or swordbreakers) as well?

And there we have it—a few more interesting little tidbits about Kjerag’s big sister that add some more to her character. :)

[voicesknewmyghosts]

Safe Place

Jenna is always the person others go to for comfort, she’s the anchor that grounds people. So just who is the person that she goes to for her own comfort?

It’s late in the evening when you get the call. You had just settled on the couch with a cup of tea when your phone rings and a picture of your girlfriend cuddled up in a blanket pops up on the screen. You can’t help the smile that beams onto your face; Jenna is in Romania right now shooting Wednesday, and to say you miss the little ray of sunshine is an understatement. 

You’ve been together over a year now, and every day spent with her has truly been the best of your life. She’s so gentle, caring and kind, and she makes you feel like you could take on the world when you look at her, her big brown eyes always gazing up at you with the most love anyone could ever show someone. 

But when you pick up the phone to answer her, you know immediately something is wrong. Her voice is shaky, quiet, and you can tell she’s holding back tears when she greets you. 

“Babygirl what’s wrong?” You’re on high alert now, cup of tea forgotten as you sit on the edge of the couch, ready to fight anyone and anything that’s upset your girl. 

“I just-“ her voice breaks, and along with it your heart “it’s too much y/n, it just feels all too much right now.” 

She erupts into sobs, and you do all you can to calm her down all while feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces at every gut wrenching cry. You tell her over and over again all the sweet things you can think of, telling her she’ll be okay and that you’re there for her, that she’ll get through this. 

It feels like infinity has passed before the sobs turn into sniffles and the broken girl at the other end of the line quietens down. 

“Oh Jenna.” Is all you can say, unable to think of anything that is capable of showing how much you want to just come and wrap her up in your arms and protect her from the world. 

You both sit in silence for a while, content with the other's company. You can hear Jenna shuffle under her blankets; no doubt wrapping herself up like a burrito like she does at home, which makes the smile return to your face as you imagine her head poking out of the huge mountain of blankets that she no doubt had on top of her. 

A thought pops into your head; one forged by the longing to have your girl in your arms. Its a crazy one; part of you doesn’t even want to bring it up to Jenna in fear of getting her hopes up, but the more you think about her alone in a room in Romania sobbing her heart out and feeling like the world is crushing her spirit the more you think you can make it work. 

“Jenna, how would you feel if I booked a flight to come visit?” 

You hardly even finish your sentence before the excited “yes!” screams out of your phone's speakers and less than an hour later you have your flight booked for the next day and your girl falls asleep with a smile on her face for the first time in a while. 

Jenna can’t stop the excitement she feels knowing you’re going to be here the next day. Sleep becomes a distant memory as she messages the cast group chat telling them they’re going to finally meet the woman she can’t shut up about. Joy is the first to respond, with a bunch of heart emoji’s and how excited she is to meet you. Emma, Hunter and Georgie soon follow, all equally ecstatic. Jenna just can’t wait to pick you up from the airport; you have a way of making her feel so safe and grounded that no one else has ever come close to achieving. She loves being the rock for her friends - she truly does, knowing they come to her for a pep talk or a hug when they’re feeling anxious about an interview or an upcoming scene - it makes her feel good in herself knowing she’s the person that other people find comfort in. But, she gets anxious too, and the only person she ever feels like she can truly be vulnerable and protected with is finally going to be in her arms in less than 12 hours. 

You see her before she sees you. She’s wrapped in a big coat, dyed black hair up in a messy bun, eyes scanning the room for any sightings of you. You can see a security guard with her, keeping his distance respectfully. She takes your breath away, so much so you stop dead in the middle of the airport, unable to tear your eyes away from the woman who stole your heart. 

The second she has eyes on you she’s running, jumping into your arms and wrapping her limbs around you tight, like your very own koala bear. You drop your bags and wrap your own arms around her, holding her tight to you and breathing in the scent that you missed so much. The world around you both seems to stop, the only thing existing is each other. Having her in your arms once more is the best feeling in the whole universe and you never want to let her go. 

Sadly, a subtle cough from Jenna’s security lets her know it's time to go, and she begrudgingly unwraps herself from around you. Then she looks up at you with those beautiful brown eyes and you feel your breath being stolen from your lungs as she tugs on your arm, leading you out of the airport and towards where she calls home for the next few months. 

She clings to you in the car, her head resting on your shoulder as you hold her hands in yours, rubbing gentle circles on the soft skin of her palm. You can’t help but stare at her the whole way, unable to tear your eyes away from the person who makes you happiest in this world. You can see the tiredness behind her eyes though; you can see how exhausted she is, how much pressure she has had put on her shoulders with this new project of hers. 

Of course, you’ll always support Jenna in everything she does, that will never be in doubt. But when you had that call from her and when you can see just how exhausted mentally and physically she is; you just wish you could take it all away and shelter her from all of the pressure.

You arrive at the cast's hotel not long after Jenna closes her eyes and her head drifts from your shoulder down to your lap. You hate to wake her, knowing the ridiculously early starts and long days she has. You make a decision while staring down at the sleeping beauty and quietly ask the security guard who drove you whether there was someone who could help with your bags. Once he confirms yes, you gently slide out from Jenna’s death grip and open her door, cradling her into your arms as she grumbles something about wanting to sleep more. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you at how cute Jenna looks cradled in your arms, her arms flailing around until they find their target: a death grip around your neck. You give her a quick kiss on the forehead and shush her as she starts to grumble again and follow the security guard to Jenna’s apartment. 

Placing Jenna gently down on her bed, you get her changed into some comfy pyjamas before quickly doing the same for yourself. You leave your bags in the living room, deciding that getting into bed with your girl is the only priority right now; unpacking can be left until she’s working the following morning. 

Your heart soars as she reaches for you the second the bed dips signalling your arrival. Her arms wrap around your shoulders and her legs entwine with yours; her hot breath sending tingles down your spine as it tickles the side of your neck. You give her a quick kiss before succumbing to sleep yourself, finally feeling like a piece of you has been returned. 

The alarm rips through the peaceful silence that had fallen over the room. You’re sure you only fell asleep two minutes ago, but judging by Jenna frantically flailing around for her phone to shut off the noise and groaning to herself, you can imagine this is the early start she’s been telling you about.

How she does this everyday is completely beyond you. 

You reach out a gentle hand to rub the tired back in front of you, and you smile to yourself as Jenna seems to relax a little under your touch, almost as if she had to remind herself that this is real, that she’s not alone anymore. 

“Good morning my love.” Her voice is groggy and deep as she leans over to place a kiss on your lips. Her small hands frame your face, her eyes staring into yours. 

This is all you wanted out of life; to find someone who you would travel to the ends of the earth for, and who would do the same for you. Looking into Jenna’s exhausted eyes as you stroke her hair, you know you would do anything to keep this girl from any and all harm. 

“Come on darling,” you begin, kissing her chin, “let's get you some breakfast.” 

Jenna tries to fight you, telling you you should get back in bed and sleep, but she’s fighting a losing battle as you’re already up and out of bed, thoughts of what you can make for your girl flooding through your mind. 

You let Jenna get herself ready in the bathroom as you cook a nice big breakfast out of the things she has in her fridge. You know she hasn’t eaten well since she got here, so you make a promise to yourself that once she’s at work you’ll head into town and get some groceries so you can get as much food in her as possible. 

Just as you finish plating up your breakfasts, the door to the bathroom opens and out comes the picture of beauty; the smile she has on her face is enough to knock you to the floor, but you manage to stay upright. Even with no makeup on and looking as exhausted as she does, she is the most beautiful woman in the world in your eyes, no doubt about it. She strides over to you and stands on her tiptoes with her hands gripping either side of your face and kisses you with a fervent intensity that leaves you breathless and gasping for more. Breakfast is almost forgotten as you reach for her hips, ready to pick her up and toss her into the bedroom until a small hand on your chest stops you dead in your tracks, and when you look at the woman capable of destroying you and piecing you back to together bit by bit, the smirk she has on her face tells you all you need to know. 

Be good, and I’ll reward you later. 

It’s unspoken; it normally is - Jenna has a way of looking at you and conveying anything she needs you to know without saying a single word. You know if you play your cards right and behave today that you might just end up getting the one thing you both have been endlessly craving for the last few months apart. With a wink and a sway of her hips, Jenna takes a seat at the table while you place her food in front of her and take a seat next to her. You interlace your fingers together while you eat in comfortable silence, content with the company of your favourite person. 

Before you know it, there’s a knock on the door and Jenna is sighing while getting up, collecting her things for the day while you begin cleaning up. 

“I’ll see you later.” She mumbles into your chest as you pull her in for a hug. 

“You will indeed.” You kiss her forehead and open the door for her, waving to her as she does the same. And then she’s gone; off to work until she’s utterly exhausted and spent only to do it all over again the next day. You wish she didn’t have to work so hard; you wish you could somehow make this experience easier on her mental health, but you know that she loves this job, and sadly the toll of working in this industry is well known. 

But, what you can do is be somewhere Jenna can come to relax, to be vulnerable and to let all of the pressure slide off her shoulders. And so, with a little smile to yourself, you get ready to head into town to get groceries. 

It may not be much, but if you can take care of Jenna in all the small ways she hasn’t had the energy to do herself, then you can go to sleep happy knowing that at least with you, Jenna is taken care of. 

And that at least with you, Jenna has her safe place.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 4

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Sinker, Comet, Boost

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, clone cuddle pile

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Notes: This part is 100% pure Wolffe angst. That's it. That's the whole thing. Just Wolffe being a sad man. You have been warned. Next part will have more Cara and Comet and clones attempting to make breakfast! As always, please enjoy 💚

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"The little one is asleep," Comet said as he reentered the living room.

"Good," Wolffe said. His head was leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed, and his arms crossed. "She needs it."

"So do you," Sinker added with a pointed look towards Wolffe.

Wolffe groaned. "I need to pack."

"We can help with that," Boost offered.

"No," Wolffe said. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. "I can do it."

"Do you want us to leave?" Comet asked.

Wolffe pushed himself off the couch and stared blankly towards his bedroom. "No…" he murmured with a shake of his head. "Stay. Just for a little while longer."

"Whatever you need, Commander," Sinker said.

Wolffe walked towards his bedroom with heavy footsteps. The weight of what he needed to do, picking and choosing pieces of his wife, what to keep and what to let go of, surrounded him like a thick cloud. Its presence threatened to suffocate him. The room was dark, empty, and lifeless, feeling claustrophobic and cold without the warmth of his wife. Everything was how it should be. The bed was immaculate, the floor was clean, the clothes were put away, but in his heart he only felt chaos.

He sat down on his side of the bed, the mattress sinking in under his weight, and looked over at the holo-photo album perched on the bedside table. It slowly rotated through images of their life together. A nervous first date, a botched marriage proposal, a beautiful unofficial wedding, an unexpected baby bump, the birth he missed, a first birthday, an anniversary alone, and so many more memories. He missed a lot of them because of the War, but nonetheless, each memory was priceless and precious to him.

He picked up the album and ran his fingers across the image of his wife smiling next to his daughter on her third birthday; one they celebrated without him. He smiled at the memory. Cara had cake all over her face. Then the image switched, and Wolffe's breath hitched. For a moment, he thought he lost her again, but it was just an image of him holding Cara, one that his wife took, and he realized that was how all of their pictures would look going forward. She'd never be in one ever again.

Wolffe placed the album down, flopped back onto the bed, and rested his arm over his eyes. He wanted to feel something other than sadness, anything, but he couldn't find any other emotion. His usual stoic, no-nonsense demeanor had left him too. He gripped the blanket with his other hand, but he couldn't feel its softness. He was numb. He needed to pack, but he couldn't move. He was paralyzed. How easy would it have been to just slip away and never feel anything ever again? Hadn't he lost enough already?

Was there an allotment in life of pain and suffering, and he accidently received a double portion? Was it not enough to lose his battalion, his marshal rank, and his eye? Did he have to lose his wife too? What else could this life possibly take from him? His daughter? He'd rather die. He'd rather be blown up, crushed, sliced in half, suffocated, burned, or stabbed to death than lose one more thing he held precious. The universe could take him, but it couldn't take his daughter.

Wolffe groaned and rolled onto his side. He stared at his wife's side of the bed and slowly smoothed his hand over the empty surface. He could almost feel her lying there if he closed his eyes, and he wondered if he'd forget someday. Would he forget what she felt like? Her smell? Her voice? Her infectious laugh? His name on her lips? Would he forget… her? Maker, he prayed he would never forget. He couldn't. He wouldn't. She was his beloved, and he was hers. Death couldn't keep him from loving her.

Wolffe shimmied over to his wife's side of the bed and buried his face into her pillow, inhaling her scent deeply and committing it to memory. He made a quick mental list of everything he wanted to pack and take with him. Her pillow, her favorite top, her favorite perfume, her favorite soap, her favorite holo-book. He wished he could pack it all up in a small box and carry it with him everywhere he went, but he couldn't. He'd just have to take those little pieces of his wife and try not to forget.

Although, there was a part of him that still thought she'd come home. That she was just out having fun with her friends and would be back late. That she'd come to bed and curl up next to him like she always did when he was home. Then there was the part of him that replayed her dying gasps of breath. Reminding him that her body went limp in his arms and she was never coming back. A ruthless and cruel tug of war in his mind. A part clinging to a false hope and a part crushing him under the weight of despair.

The despair won the war and Wolffe choked out a sob. He let his emotions roar to the surface, breaking the dam of his engineered resilience, and he cried. It was too much. He wasn't made to love and he wasn't made to lose love. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to die first. It was unfair. It was inhumane. It was cruel. He didn't care what force power or force deity his general believed in. No moral platitude could justify the death of innocence, let alone his own wife.

"Commander?" Sinker whispered from where he peeked in at the bedroom doorway.

Wolffe didn't move or stifle his mournful cries. He didn't care if his brothers saw him like this. He thought he could do it. He thought he could sneak away, suffer in silence, and ride out the grief alone, but the weight was too heavy. He was buckling beneath the pressure and knew he wouldn't make it if he only relied on himself. To be strong in front of his daughter was one thing, but his Pack brothers? They were strong and steady. He knew he could break in front of them and be safe.

With no confirmation or denial otherwise, Sinker stepped into the room and sat down next to where Wolffe was lying on the bed. He hesitated, but placed a firm hand on Wolffe's shoulder.

"Wolffe," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Wolffe said nothing, but slowly picked himself up and leaned heavily against Sinker as he wiped his eyes.

"The boys and I were thinking," Sinker began. "Maybe we could stay the night? To keep you company?"

Wolffe looked up at Sinker through blurry vision. He wished the tears would stop flowing, but they didn't. Every time he remembered his wife wasn't coming home, new tears formed where the previous fell. It was a continuous cycle that he never experienced before and he hated experiencing now. He had slept alone countless times on missions, but he never slept alone in this bed, without her. She was always there. It felt wrong to sleep in it without her. He didn't want to sleep in it alone.

"I…" Wolffe began with a hoarse voice. "I'd like that."

Sinker pulled Wolffe's forehead against his own and closed his eyes. "We've got you, vod."

Wolffe melted into the simple gesture, breath still shaking from his sobs. "Thank you."

Sinker gave Wolffe's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then got up from the bed to go grab the others from the living room. Wolffe sat still at the edge of the bed, but slowly let himself drift back down to rest his head against the pillow. His Pack brothers quietly entered the bedroom and each found a spot on the bed to lie down, being careful not to disturb him. It wasn't a very large bed so a little overlap was needed, and there were some tangled limbs, but everyone eventually settled in.

It had been a while since the Pack piled in such a way to sleep. The last time Wolffe piled was probably before the Malevolence. Same for Sinker and Boost, and most likely never for Comet since he was part of the newly formed battalion. Wolffe refused piles after the Malevolence because he was afraid of getting attached to his men again, but in the end, it didn't matter. He didn't lose any of his men. He lost his wife. Maybe Jedi were right and attachments were a waste.

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[always-andromeda]

-ˋˏ 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 ˎˊ-

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭・2,720

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲・There are many difficult memories Joel associates with his birthday. Ones that he's attempted to forget for about twenty years. You attempt to give him a birthday to remember.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞・(credit to @saradika for the adorable dividers, please check her resources out!!) happy birthday, Joel; you deserve everything and more, babygirl. ♡

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・post-outbreak universe, angst, comfort and fluff, pet names (darlin'), mentions of alcohol, lots of feelings lmao, those are all I can think of!

Eyes fluttering open, you drowsily felt the space on the bed beside you. The sheets had long since lost the warmth of the man that normally slept with you. You groaned. Of course Joel had to sign himself up for a patrol on his birthday of all days.

But you truly couldn't blame him. Though it had been a little over a year since he and Ellie had returned to settle in Jackson, he was still working his ass off like a new arrival; like he still had something to prove. As if Tommy hadn't vouched for his usefulness to the community dozens of times. As if Joel himself hadn't shown how he'd seemingly perfected the art of survival.

You'd learned why he was like this a year prior; when Joel had only been around for a few months. Back then he was merely a patrol partner who you'd found yourself catching the eye of from time to time. Back then he chuckled softly at your jokes and offered up little bits and pieces of his own history whenever the conversation called for it.

Then came the day that Tommy said it; the thing that made your heart break for his older brother.

"Damn...September 26th..." he'd sighed and whistled before taking a swig from his beer.

You sat on the stool next to him, swirling your own drink and throwing him a sideways glance. "Yeah, what's so special about today's date?"

Tommy looked down, then he explained, "It's Joel's birthday. How old is that bastard now?" a tight light smile formed on his lips as he seemed to reminisce. "Fifty-seven, I think?"

"Goddamn," you muttered. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've gotten something for him."

Tommy shook his head. An immediate sadness appeared across his features as he said, "Nah, he hasn't really made a big deal out of his birthday since...well...since ever, really. But he especially doesn't like talkin' about it these days."

"Why?"

Swallowing hard, Tommy answered, "A little over twenty years ago today was when the outbreak first started. And it was the day that Sarah passed."

Tommy had talked about Sarah a few times. He remembered his niece very fondly and with Maria's encouragement, made it a point to not let her memory be forgotten. After all, it was the memory of Sarah and anyone else lost to the virus that drove the community to continue on; to keep fighting for those who were still there.

But this time, her memory seemed to haunt him. Right now, Sarah wasn't a heartening symbol. She was a reminder of everything he'd lost – everything that Joel had lost – when the world fell apart. A reminder of just how hard both brothers tried to hold onto the scraps and how hard they fought to forge something new for themselves.

"Oh," you breathed out.

"Yeah," Tommy said. "He figured that it didn't seem right to him. To celebrate his life on the day that she lost hers. So..." he trailed off, searching for his words.

You stopped him with a pursed smile and a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I get it."

And you truly did. It made sense that Joel wanted to keep himself busy. Plenty of folks did that; couldn't dwell on the past as long as you kept moving. The simple answer, however, was that Joel didn't trust any of it.

Sure, Jackson was beautiful; truly a marvel of human spirit and ingenuity. But you always caught how unsettled Joel seemed, head kept low, eyes up at all times, checking to see if and when he needed to scoop Ellie up and jump ship. Decades of fighting for survival had turned him into a warrior. It had also turned him into a recluse; a closed-off, touch-starved old dog that bared its teeth when approached but still whined in relief when you scratched behind its ear. Every little bit of love you gave seemed to hurt as much as it helped.

Which is why you were determined to do something on this day. Something that would hopefully numb that pain a little more and get him more used to feeling the tenderness of real intimacy with someone.

It wasn’t easy. Once you had confirmed that Joel had indeed gone out, you got dressed and ran through your mental list of all the different vendors on main street that you needed to visit.

Though Jackson offered a range of luxuries, almost all of them came at a pretty decent price. A few hours in and you’d traded practically half of your things away to gather up the supplies to put together a present and a modest party. When Tommy caught you trading in one of your winter coats for a brand new pair of boots Joel's size and you told him of your plan, he almost looked nervous.

You second guessed yourself for a minute. Tommy had known Joel for much, much longer than you had. Maybe he knew better than you. But something inside assured you that this time around...you definitely knew better.

Quickly quelling the nerves dancing under your skin, you joked, "Don't worry, I'm not doing anything too fancy. I've got these boots, some new strings for that guitar of his, and after this, I'm gonna head down to the cafeteria and pick up some of those special dark roast coffee beans he likes. Just some little practical things. Don't wanna give the birthday boy a heart attack."

Tommy laughed, "He ain't had a birthday in over two decades, girlie; puttin' those alone in front of him might send him into cardiac arrest," he nodded towards the boots on the counter before you.

They were very nice. The kind of thing Joel always hesitated to get himself. During his year in town, you were pretty sure you'd only seen him replace his shoes once. And when he did, they were a well worn pair that had been tucked away deep in the town's clothing storages. Almost every day you got to see the ugly pair of boots stationed by your front door, rubber soles caked in dried mud and already starting to pull away from the rest of the shoe. 

You scoffed, "Then so be it, because he needs these. He needs this."

Perhaps it was a little selfish of you. But you wanted to spoil him. More than anything you wanted him to feel just how much you loved him. Neither you or him had said it, always too afraid to speak those feelings aloud. The world had become too dangerous for such open affection. But you could show it. You could show how much you loved him.

"Okay, if you say so," Tommy replied hopefully. "Good luck on your little mission."

You appreciated his encouragement and smiled to yourself as you stowed the boots away in your wagon with the rest of your birthday stash. Perhaps you could make this birthday one that Joel actually wanted to remember.

The sun went down slowly, showering your kitchen in golden warmth. As much as you normally loved seeing the sunset, this time it made you nervous as it gradually faded into the darkness of night.

With your eye flickering between the clock and the front door, you were getting nervous all over again. You'd anticipated Joel spending the day out, but you hadn't expected him to be gone for this long. How many jobs had he signed himself up for that day?

The longer you lingered on the question, the more you doubted yourself. What if this was too much? What if it offended him? After all, in all the time you'd known him, he'd been a stubborn man, stuck in his ways. And this had been his way for so long. Who were you to interrupt that?

The urge to scrap the whole idea and pretend you'd never made the effort in the first place was strong. It would be embarrassing to explain that you had nothing to show for your day if and when Joel came home and asked about it. But surely it would be less embarrassing than facing rejection from him. 

Before you could do anything impulsive, the door swung open, causing you to jump from your spot on the couch.

"Sorry I'm so late," Joel explained. "One of the horses kicked a fence in at the stable and Tony wanted to get it fixed before tomorrow so I stayed back to help."

Judging by his rumpled curls, tired eyes, and the stench of sweat and wood shavings that clung to him, you could tell he'd physically worn himself out that day. And you cringed internally knowing you were most likely about to wear him down emotionally as well.

"That's okay," you replied, trying to put on a chipper tone. "I'm sure Tony really appreciated your help."

"Damn right he did," Joel smirked before pulling his arm out from behind his back. In his hand was a bottle that you quickly recognized.

"Holy shit, where'd he get this?" you marveled, taking the bottle of wine from him and turning it in your hand as if it was a mirage. It was a Cabernet Sauvignon with a fancy cream colored label and gold text. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen something this fancy that was actually intact.

"That fucker's got a whole load of alcohol from before the outbreak. Said he'd give me this one if I promised not to tell Maria about his stash," Joel chuckled.

"Yeah, no kidding," you said before pausing and looking back up at him. "Wait, Tony gets the stable guys to help him out all the time. Is he giving them all secret complimentary bottles of alcohol?"

"Actually," Joel began hesitantly, turning away to take off his boots and shed his jacket. "He said this was a special favor. Told me to go home and have a drink with my lady."

Coming from Tony, the sentiment would've made you roll your eyes. But coming out of Joel's mouth with that smooth-like-molasses Texan accent, it had you melting. At the end of the day, there was always something so warming being known as his.

As much as you knew about Joel's past through his own admissions, it was moments like these that let you know he'd changed so much since those days. Now, he was a good man. A good man who the community could depend upon. And more importantly, man who you could trust with everything...maybe even sappy displays of affection.

With reinvigorated confidence, you took his hand in yours and led him into the kitchen. Before he could ask what you were up to, you said, "Well, if Tony is so insistent on us having a good night, let me make it a little better."

Joel still seemed a little confused, his deep brown puppy dog eyes framed by furrowed brows as he watched you open the fridge and reached in to grab something. 

In your hands was a simple cake set neatly in the middle of a glass platter. Under the layer of buttercream frosting were two layers of cake along with strawberry jam between them. The jam had been another trade you felt privileged to acquire. One of the women in town, Bonnie, made jams for every season. The strawberry jam you'd acquired was her last jar from the summer harvest. And you hoped and prayed with everything in you that you hadn't messed up the cake and frosting recipe you'd borrowed from her.

Setting those worries aside, you put on a small smile before setting the dish down on the kitchen counter before him. Joel stared down at it, a volatile expression on his face.

"I couldn't find any of those fancy little number candles, so we'll have to stick with the regular ones I have in my junk drawer. Though it would be funny if I just stuck fifty-eight candles on there," you rambled. "Not that fifty-eight candles would fit on there anyways. Or that you could even blow out fifty eight candles all at once–"

Joel cut through your halfhearted attempt to diffuse the tension and muttered, "How did you know?"

"Tommy told me–"

"Of course he did," Joel cut you off with a hint of exasperation.

"Wait, before you start planning on drilling him a new one, just hear me out. Because he told me about how hard this day is for you. And don't worry, I completely understand it. But...I–" you chose your words cautiously, "–care about you...a lot. And I wanted to celebrate you. I know you think that you don't deserve it. But I believe you do."

"Darlin'...this is..." Joel trailed off with a sigh.

You took a deep breath. It's now or never.

Finally, you said the magic words you'd held inside for far too long, "I love you, Joel."

He blinked hard a few times, processing this new information before it started to click. For the first time ever, you thought, you were seeing Joel Miller get nervous. You'd seen shades of uncertainty wash across his worn face, but never had you seen such boy-ish anxiety like this. With soft, glossy eyes and slightly quivering lip, he looked so different. He looked like a man unburdened by the world and his past; only weighed down by the crippling realization of just how much he was valued. You decided it was the most raw and beautiful side of him you'd seen so far.

You repeated firmly, "I love you so much. And I want to show you that love. Even if you've got nothing else in the world...you can have that. You get to have all of my love."

That made his head hang and his shoulders sag. You couldn't tell if this was a good thing or not. So you walked around the island and approached him gently.

"Are you okay, Joel?"

He lifted his head just enough for you to see that there were a few stray tears falling down his cheek. He wiped them away and sniffled before bringing himself to meet your gaze. With a wobbly smile playing on his lips, he whispered hoarsely, "I'm fine, darlin'. I'm just...I'm glad to have ya."

You wrapped your arms around him. And as he returned the gesture, he let himself bury his head in your neck. His tall, broad frame curled around you. The marble statue he seemed to be normally had crumbled away. Here he was all softness, all warmth, all yours.

With his lips beside your ear, you heard him murmur softly, "I love you too, darlin'."

Your chest swelled with joy so intensely that for a second you were sure that you were the one who would be having a heart attack. But even as tears threatened to spill from your own eyes, you forced yourself to take deep, even breaths to calm yourself down.

As the emotional fog of the moment cleared from your mind, you remembered the rest of your plan. With a start you pulled back from him and said excitedly, "I have some presents for you too!"

"Multiple presents," Joel laughed to himself. "Goddamn, woman, you've really thought of it all, haven't you?"

"Yep," you replied proudly. "I have."

"Well, run along and get 'em. I'll crack open this bottle and get out the glasses. Then I'll take a look at your presents."

"Deal!" you said before pressing a deep kiss on Joel's lips that was sure to make his head spin.

He watched you hurry upstairs with another quiet laugh. Turning to take another look at your handiwork, he thought back to the time before all this. A time when something like your modest cake would've been normal. But these days...to put time and effort into such displays was a rarity, a privilege. To him, however, it was doubly so, considering the fact that it was coming from you.

The warm glow filling his bones was unfamiliar. But this time he wasn't afraid of it. For once, he wanted to embrace it. It wasn't often that a guy like him got the love of a creature so special. And he intended to cherish it for as long as he possibly could.

[jackwolfes]

prompt #59 with wesper pls 🤲

“Tell me to go and I will but ask me to stay and I'll never leave you again” Prompts: [1] [2]

The scene through Wylan’s bedroom window is lightning and malice, the rapidfire patter of rain gunshots on glass reminding him what little kindness waits for him outside, but right now inside isn’t much better. He stands with his arms at his sides and bare feet uncomfortable against the cold wood floor. The fire in the hearth is low enough to offer little comfort. 

Across the room, dripping rainwater onto Wylan’s expensive bedroom floor, Jesper stands resigned to whatever pain Wylan plans to inflict upon him. That hurts. The accusation of it digs beneath Wylan’s ribs like a burrowing beetle, carving out space between sinew and bone and biting down where it hurts most. It isn’t my fault, he wants to scream, but he’s too cowardly to say anything, not even I’d never hurt you. Not even, I’m sorry. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wylan finally manages. “If my father found out…” 

Jesper doesn’t interrupt him. It is simply Wylan’s voice failing him, as it has so many times before, because as with every other facet of Wylan’s being, failure is his natural state. He doesn’t know what he’d even say if he could muster up the strength to speak, so perhaps silence is better. 

What would he even say? If his father found out he would, what? Actually disown him like he’d threatened to do days ago when he found him tangled up half naked with a serving boy? Kick him out of this prison he’s forged, the one that Wylan has so rarely been happy in but has always been mostly safe in? Both are plausible options. Wylan has always been a weak little lamb under the blade of father’s butcher knife, kept alive on a whim and little else. He can’t imagine his father going so far as to actually see him killed, but once he’s thrown out of his good graces, what hope would he have to survive? 

Just Jesper, who doesn’t owe Wylan a damn thing.

Jesper. Wylan can hear the echo of his own voice whispering that name a dozen different ways through the seasons. Kindly, reverently, desperately. Never in between the expensive silk sheets of his bed, but in plenty of other places they shouldn’t have been: the stable, most often, but the kitchens, too. Out in the gardens when the weather permitted it, a few times in the library, that once at the inn as they travelled out of town because neither of them had been able to hold back. Those golden slivers of enjoyable memories might be the only time Wylan has ever truly felt happy on his father’s property. Jesper has given him the world time and time again, and all Wylan did was see him get thrown out on the street and fired for taking the time to love him tenderly. 

The floor doesn’t creak when Jesper takes a step forward, which means Wylan’s sharp inhalation is entirely too audible. Over the heavy storm outside and the occasional crackle of firewood, the sound is a vulnerability. An admission. Wylan fights against every urge telling him to damn reason and run to Jesper, to throw himself in his arms and hold him close, and he hates himself for picking the safe option. He hates himself for a lot of reasons, but Jesper still crosses the room under the flickering firelight and comes to a half a bare few inches away. The rain water dripping off his clothes creates a puddle on the floor, seeping towards Wylan’s bare toes, but neither of them move. 

“Tell me to go,” Jesper whispers, “and I will.” 

Wylan shuts his eyes. He should, he should, he should, he isn’t strong enough to form the words between his lips. He simply cannot resist the magnetic pull of Jesper Fahey and all his charm, all his divinity, all his — perfection. Even with his eyes shut he can sense that Jesper is close, and maybe getting closer. His body stays deathly still, torn between wanting to jerk away back to where it’s safe or leaning into Jesper’s touch, where it’s safest. 

“If you ask me to stay, I will. I’ll never leave you again.”

The husky edge to Jesper’s whispering voice floods Wylan’s senses, in past his lips like cherries and chocolate, down his throat, around his wrists, in his head. His eyelashes open with a flutter; he parts his lips. Steel eyes stare at him like he is precious, worth keeping around, and Wylan was never going to survive without him in his life. 

He surges up to kiss Jesper fiercely, grabbing the back of his head to hold him close. The chill of rainwater caught in the tight coils of his hair press into Wylan’s fingertips like holy water sanctifying his skin. Wylan feels everything. Jesper’s hands on his hips, turning the thin fabric translucent with water and imprinting the shape of his palms into Wylan’s body. In a moment Wylan will stretch upwards to deepen the kiss and his shirt will peel away from his skin — maybe even sooner if Jesper chooses to be so bold as to pull it off for him — but the mark feels unerringly permanent. It is a brand on skin, but instead of pain it brings with it liberation. 

Wylan steps backwards, still clinging to Jesper with desperate hands. The clumsy gesture makes them both stumble but their lips don’t stray apart, which is more than what Wylan needs. Lightning cracks, blindingly bright against the dark night sky, and the thunder chasing its heels provides cover for the quiet little moan that slips between Wylan’s parted lips. He can barely hear it himself over the roaring rush of blood in his ears, the slam of his heartbeat thudding in his head, the dizzying slide of Jesper’s tongue along the backs of Wylan’s teeth as he plunders for gold. This is his one chance at pure secrecy, and it feels magical. 

The back of his legs hit his mattress sooner than he realises, the impact juddering through his body and shooting surprise through his frame. Unbalanced, he tumbles backwards and hits the soft mattress with a thwump of silky fabric, but Jesper catches himself before he can fall. 

It instantly pushes too much distance between them. Unceremoniously, Wylan is jerked free from the dizzying bliss he’d been feeling a second ago. The chill in the air takes its place, reminding him how cold he is without Jesper near him. Splayed out on the mattress with Jesper standing above him like that and framed by the lines of his spread thighs, he shivers. But the furrow in Jesper’s brow is enough to make Wylan nervous. His fingers twitch, lying on the mattress beside his head with his palms facing the sky expectantly. Jesper’s eyes flicker to the side and catch the motion. He says nothing, and Wylan sees want warring with apprehension in the metallic shine of his eyes.

And maybe Wylan is a coward, but Jesper isn’t. Jesper is one of the bravest people he’s ever met. They’re barely touching anymore, but the tiny point of contact between Wylan’s knee and Jesper’s shin is just enough to lend him strength. 

“Stay,” Wylan croaks. 

Sunshine blooms. The eye of the storm hits them like midsummer. Life erupts in Jesper’s eyes as he smiles that real, earnest, perfect smile, and he says, “Don’t want to ruin your bed getting it wet, do I?” As if he hadn’t made a million messes before with Wylan a beautiful, willing casualty. So Wylan laughs, breathless and giddy, and spreads his legs apart a little wider as he enjoys the show that Jesper puts on, haphazardly and clumsily stripping out of his rain-soaked clothes. They hit the ground with an ungraceful slap, and when Jesper clambers naked onto the bed (and onto Wylan) he’s barely even dry. He’s hard, though, and oh so pretty, and before Wylan can reach out to grab hold of him and start to give him the pleasure he deserves he’s taking hold of Wylan’s wrists and pinning him down onto the bed. Wylan jerks, spine arching with a breathless little moan, but Jesper kisses him and does not leave — he said he wouldn’t, and Wylan trusts that he means to keep his promise.

[arimiaromage]

I really can only view Nea's story as self sacrifice.

Nea realized his fate was to become the Earl and destroy the world. He didn't have any options, because he wasn't just a Noah, he was the Earl.

So he made a new option.

If him being a Noah and the Earl would lead to the world being destroyed, then all he had to do was destroy that first. He (begrudgingly) accepted help from Allen and Cross because he realized he couldn't do it all on his own, especially when it came to the ark.

And then there was Mana.

He did all of it—killing the other Noah, working with Cross & Allen, even knowing he was the Earl...—he did it all for Mana.

This is where we get into the theory section.

I can't help but feel that he knew they were both the Earl. I feel like sometime after he awakened as a Noah, Nea began regaining Adam's memories- not his Noah memories, but Adam's memories of being at the Campbell manor and such. He realized him and Mana weren't twins and that he himself wasn't just a Noah, he was the Noah. And with that, an inkling that Mana was the same.

And yet, despite knowing that they weren't actually brothers, that if he wanted to prevent the Earl—himself—from destroying the world he would have to die and most likely kill his beloved brother as well—he still stayed with him. He never left Mana's side and Mana never left his.

...So much so that those visuals are still imprinted on Earl!Mana's memories.

Nea's fate was to destroy the world as the Earl. But just like how your path isn't set until you make your own footprints in the ground, Nea forged his own path. A hard, lonely path that involved becoming a murderer and leading to his own murder-suicide.

I really feel like that was Nea's plan- kill the Noah, kill Mana, and then kill himself once he became the only living fragment of the Earl. After all, this is his last journey.

Nea decided to kill Mana after killing the Noah, but Road stopped him before he crossed that line. I really feel like that's what was happening in the flashback of Road holding Mana.

Nea knew he and Mana were both the Earl and that's what led him to killing the other Noah and eventually trying to kill Mana.

It's all a self-sacrifice but it's all a sacrifice for Mana's sake. Nea was the one to decide to become a murderer, to decide to kill Mana before he becomes the Earl. And now because of this path he's chosen, he's alone.

Nea is quick to shut out any outside help now that he realizes he is truly alone- Mana is still mostly consumed by the Earl, Cross is "dead", and Allen has no memory of him. Allen was alone when he fled the order but he still had friends searching for him and eventually helping him. Nea has none of that now. But that's the life he chose.

It's both a self-sacrifice in the physical sense, that he plans on killing the last fragment of the Earl (himself) and a more mental sense as he takes on the burden of the world onto himself and refuses to let anyone else help.

Just like Allen and Mana have developed "masks" to hide their pain from others, Nea has one to shield his pain as well. It would be so easy for him to try to help Allen regain his memories, but instead he has to keep up the tough guy act and pretend he doesn't care.

He has tried to throw away everything including his emotions with his self-sacrificial journey but at the end of the day he is still a human trying to mask his pain because he knows the path he's chosen is nothing but tragedy.

The only path left for Nea now is to kill Mana (and probably himself) and Nea is determined to not let anyone get close to him again as he sets out on his path of destruction again.

It's so wildly self-destructive but also such an interesting foil to Allen's self-sacrificial tendencies—Allen throws himself in danger to protect others from the pain he's experienced all while pretending to be someone he's not, but Nea never had the luxury of choosing to protect people like that. The best way Nea can protect the people he loves is if he's dead.

There is no doubt in my mind that Nea (still) loves Mana and Mana (still) loves Nea (and even further, that the pieces of Earl!Mana that are so attached to Nea are pieces of Mana that are still alive).

I really see Nea's whole story as being an entirely self-sacrificial path to try to save his beloved brother from becoming a monster and shoving the entire weight of the world ending on his own shoulders, not letting others close enough to take off the burden. Except Allen.

Allen somehow got close enough to Nea to not only become the person he trusted with the ark, the Earl's prized device for fighting and creating akuma, but to take some of that burden off of Nea's shoulders. Just like we're seeing Allen's mask fall off as he's surrounded by allies again, I hope we'll see the same with Nea as he realizes he can trust Allen once more—one final time for one final journey.

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

yeah that was some rambling / my own theory on Nea's goals and why he acts That Way. at the end of the day he's a pissy catboy who really wants attention from the people he loves most but can't because he's also trying to kill them </3

[luimagines]

Legend’s Secret Friend (800 Follower Raffle)

Our second place winner was @ships-lover!

They wanted something similar to Four Gets No Mercy, from the last raffle. Where they have a secret friend that more or less has their heart. I hope you all enjoy.

Content under the cut!

The group stopped in the nearest house they could find. The Veteran was hospitable enough to point the way to where his house resided. After the door was unlocked and the tables with merchandise were cleared, the group finally was able to rid themselves of their layers and armor.

It didn’t take long for the boys to begin doing their own thing. Wild made it his mission to familiarize himself with the kitchen and to take on Hyrule as his helper. Sky and Warrior were both quick to work on personal things. Whether that be item maintenance of supply checks.

Four stepped out, making it quickly known that he was going to check out the forge and do what he could with his blacksmithing knowledge. Curious about the techniques and glory of it all, Wind followed suit.

Time and Twilight sat by the single table left over, talking quietly. They were too tired to look over what the group was doing, nor who was still held accountable. Being in the relative comfort and safety of the town, they hoped that the others wouldn’t do anything that would require a bail out. They wouldn’t vouch for their characters… too much anyway.

There was one person that no one thought to consider.

Legend looked at his warry and exhausted friends. While there were some people that he held some reservations about letting out of his sight, there was one singular person that he had to see no matter the cost.

He takes a silent breath and leaves his home, heading to the back and through the nearby forest.Legend takes a familiar path. He knows it almost by heart at this point. He’s almost certain he would have been able to take it blindfolded at this point.

“Hey!” He whisper yells into the space around him. He was still closer to the house than you would have usually met but he’s excited. “Are you here? I’m back!”

No reply.

Undeterred, Legend walks further down the path, picking his pace up to a jog. “Hey!” He calls your name. “Where are you?”

Silence.

Then the branch on a nearby tree wobbles and shakes. The leaves fall to the ground in their silent dances and a body swings downward, still holding onto the branch. The person is upside and their hair sticks out at odd angles but they smile brightly. “Link!”

They drop and run to the young man, hugging him fiercely as they collide. “I thought you would be gone for longer!”

“So did I.” He laughs and spins them around for good measure. “I can’t stay for long. I’m only here for a visit but I had to see you again.” 

Legend’s heart dips when the smile falls off of your face at the news. You release him and frown, holding back a long suffering sigh. You grab ahold of his hands and hold them close. “Can’t you stay for longer this time? You’re always going somewhere. Something is always happening.”

“I know.” Legend holds your hands back, tightening his hold on them. “But not this time. We’re not even done with the first problem to begin with.”

“We?” You perk up. “But didn’t you leave by yourself? Who’s this we?”

Legend pauses and his eyes get a little shifty. “I did… But then I met some people. They’re heroes too. Good people. If annoying, at times.” He adds as an afterthought.

You also pause a bit, letting his words drape over you like a blanket. You’ve only ever heard Link speak about people in that tone once or twice before. The first time was when you asked about his favorite memory with his uncle. The second was a bit more recent and it was when you asked about the purple rabbit that takes over his house when he’s gone.

(You’ve spoken to him. He seems nice, if a bit skittish. Although you couldn’t have imagined why.)

Link’s current tone was rare and reserved for the people he came to care about the most. You’re not sure what to make of it. But in the short time that he’s been away from home, they clearly made an impact on him.

Legend notices that you’re not as focused as you were before he spoke. He clears his throat, running his thumbs over your knuckles comfortingly. Although is it because they’re rougher than when he left or is it because he missed your touch? He’s afraid to answer the question himself. 

“I don’t know how long I can stay away from them.” He admits. “Even if this is my home, they might come looking for me soon. I know you don’t want to be near too many people. So I’m warning you now.”

A small whine escapes you and Legend’s heart starts betraying him. “Hey. I always come back. Just like I promised.”

“That’s not fair though.” You say quietly. “You’re always doing something. You just got here. Why do you have to leave again?”

Legend chuckles softly and pulls your close, letting your hands go to wrap his arms around you. “You keep me sane. Honestly, I would have lost my mind without you.”

He hears your breath hitch for a moment and worries that you might be secretly injured. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Hey.” He pulls back, looking over you just in case. “Are you o-?”

“Veteran!” The Captain yells. “Are you back here? Don’t make me get Wolfie.”

Legend curses and turns back. “That’s the most annoying one of the bunch. I’ll try to come back later, ok? Time to play, involuntary tour guide.”

You nod, letting him go with little fanfare. Legend isn’t used to it, so he finds himself looking back to stay for longer. 

“Vet!”

He groans again. “Until I can get away again. Take care, goodbye!”

Legend waves and jogs away, giving you enough time to go back and hide amongst the foliage.

“What?” He asks upon arrival. “I was looking for something.”

“Did you find it?” Warrior asks with a raised eyebrow. “How far did you go? You usually don’t go too far when there’s something to worry about.”

“No where.” Legend passes him. “Now where’s the fire? Surely it must have been bad if you had to call me back the way you did.”

Warrior doesn’t seem to believe him but he tells him the situation. And while Legend was joking about the fire, he’s right on the money. Although nothing was burned, thankfully, it appears that Legend is going to have to give the resident cooks a crash course on how to work his magic fueled stove if they want to have anything for dinner.

The hours go by and Legend doesn’t stop thinking about you. You seemed so sad the second he said he had to return to the journey at hand. Heknew that you would prefer him to stay home… and if he was being honest, it was getting more and more appealing to do so. Maybe Link was going soft. But there was something in the way you always seemed to brighten when he went to see you.

Would it really be so bad to stay back just this once?

Yes. Yes, it would have, a voice in his head says. These people also have homes and people that are waiting for their safe return and they haven’t had the chance to check in on them like he has. He can’t be selfish.

Legend sighs and shakes his head, sitting by his table. He wants to make you feel better. Maybe get you something nice before they leave again. He just doesn’t know what to do.

There’s a knock at the door and Legend is going to riot. Your point is proven to be true even when he’s in his own house. The second he sits down, there’s something else calling for his attention.

He looks around, waiting for someone to try and make a move to answer it. But they are in his house. He has to go and check who it is.

Legend goes to open the door, his typical half hearted greeting on the tip of his tongue. “Hello- you’ve reached Link’s residence. Please state your business and-”

“I came to see your friends.” You interrupt in that quiet and unsure voice of yours.

Legend steps back in surprise. That’s new. You’ve never done this before. He says your name in a whispered panic. “What are you doing here? What if the village sees you?”

“A friend of yours, Vet?” Sky asks from the other side.

The door opens from behind Legend and Wind pokes his head out from the other side. “Hello!” He says brightly. “Are you the love of his life that Legend’s mentioned time and time again?”

“WHAT?!” Legend takes a swing at the boy. Wind ducks and laughter, jumping out of the way before any real damage can be done. Legend’s face is bright red and he stumbles over his words to clear the accusation. 

You step into the house and wave shyly. There’s more people than you anticipated. They all look at you with varying degrees of interest and intrigue.

Legend looks panicked. “Everybody be nice.” He warns them and introduces you. It’s not like you’ve left with any other choice. “They live…. Nearby.”

“Is that who you went to go see?” Warrior smirks.

“Captain.” Legend’s jaw flexes. “Shut it.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Wild blurts, cutting the tension. He’s looking right at you with the pot in his mit covered hands. “I just finished cooking and was about to serve it.”

You nod with a near invisible tilt to your head. “Yes please. I would like that a lot.”

Legend takes your hand. “Are you sure? They get loud.”

“You like them.” You say simply. “They’re important to you. As long as they’re friendly, I don’t mind.”

Legend grits his teeth again. “Alright. If you say so. But no one is going to hold it against you if you need to duck out and leave. You don’t have to push yourself like this.”

“I want to.” You take his hand. “You speak in a way only so often. I want to know why you like them so much.”

“Awww~ I knew he cared.” Four laughs to himself and smirks, leaning in his chair. There’s some char on his sleeves but no one seems to comment on them.

Legend would throw something at him if he could. It’s a shame his house doesn’t have less valuable things. He shakes with his restrained frustration and nerves. Legend looks away to keep his mouth shut. It’s a shame he can’t hide the pink tint to the tips of his ears.

You giggle, taking the spot where you’d normally sit. “Link can be prickly when he wants to be. But once you get past all of that, he’s a huge sweetheart. He’s my favorite person.”

Legend’s blush expands over his cheeks. “Hey- hey now-”

“Would you be willing to tell us more?” Hyrule leans forward. “How did you two meet?”

“That’s a longer story.” You admit, rubbing your forearm nervously.

“Well we have time.” Twilight calls from the other end of the table. “We don’t plan on going anywhere for a while.”

“I hate this.” Legend deflates in defeat.

“You love us.” Wild laughs, setting the pot on the table and bringing over the plates to serve the food.

“I never said that.” Legend fires back.

“But you do.” You say softly, smiling at him. “You don’t have to say it. You show it. It’s in your voice whether you know it or not.” You call him out. You turn back to the traveler and scoot your chair in closer. “We met when we were little. It was before he was wanted by the entire kingdom of Hyrule.”

“I’m sorry- what?” Time frowns.

“Oh…did he not tell you about that?” You blink.

Legend groans out your name, sitting next to you. “Great. Story time.”

You laugh, gathering the attention of everyone once more. “One at a time. We met in the forest and I was busy digging a tunnel-”