#pointless fluff

[avatarmerida]

Hunter: So Willow, Luz was telling me about this human traditon for New Years Eve...

Willow: I think she told me about it too.

Hunter: Oh, okay well, I was wondering if you wanted to, that is if you were planning on participating, if you maybe uh wanted to kiss... me?

Willow: Yeah

Hunter: Hold on I think I did it wrong I was supposed to- wait, did you say yes?

Willow: Yes.

Hunter: Oh. Well, that’s great! Perfect! At midnight?

Willow: Yeah we can kiss then too

[jururenu]

i love them so much

[thew1ldblueyonder]

Forehead kisses are for friends?

Here's the thing about Robin and Steve; their friendship is one of a kind, and to the untrained eye their tactlessness, emotional and physical closeness could signal something romantic. But Eddie knows well that's not the case.

He does notice how much of their casual interactions go against the norm of platonic: sleeping in the same bed, sleeping on each other's laps, etc., but Eddie has never cared much about the norm. He himself goes very much against it, still a one man army facing off against conformity every day, at least in the little things.

The problem comes when he has to place himself into the equation that is Robin & Steve.

It happens like this:

Eddie hosts movie night. Normally Steve does, but this time he really wanted to do it. It seemed like a good idea.

Him, Jonathan, Argyle and Steve could smoke up a couple of joints - God knows they're all desperately in need of a distraction - and maybe Nancy would join in too - and if Nancy joins, Robin does too - and what better place to do that than at his trailer? The whole place already smells slightly of weed and the neighbors don't give a shit about it.

It's also a point of pride for him. Yes, the trailer is small. But it's alright. And he wants his newfound friends to find a home there, too. He wants to feel a little useful, at least.

So, people start arriving. Nancy drives Robin up, Jonathan and Argyle come together. Argyle is already spacey. Eddie's got the movie prepped, snacks on the table, and four traumatized monster hunters restlessly huddling up on his couch, and around it. He has placed some cushions on the floor as makeshift sitting places.

It's only Steve that's missing.

Robin and him are sitting on the floor, an empty cushion reserved for him between them, and she looks as restless as he feels.

See, Eddie's been kind if permanently on edge since the upside-down bullshit. He needs these people to be in places where they're supposed to be, when they're supposed to be. The whole thing kinda made him a control freak, sue him. But when his people are where he can see them he knows they're not in trouble. He knows they aren't getting pulled into the air, bones snapping like twigs...

When the door opens and Steve steps through with an apologetic smile Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. Robin perks up, and before Steve could even finish his explanation for his tardiness - something about keys, but Eddie thinks he's lying and would bet that he's just had a bad hair day and has been spending way too much time trying to fix it - she reaches for him, like a child wanting to be picked up.

Steve goes to her immediately, grabs her hands gently, and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

Not unusual. Eddie almost chuckles at the sweet and casual display of affection, ready to be jokingly snarky, to urge Steve to sit down, finally.

Except, faced with Steve Harrington, placing two hands on the side of his head and bending down, his head quiets immediately. It happens in an instant. Steve reaches down, and kisses him between his eyebrows, redirecting his bangs with one hand. It's short, and thank god for that, because Eddie stops breathing entirely for the duration of the thing. Just a quick platonic smack of lips.

He doesn't even notice the way Eddie sucks in a breath, frozen in place. Doesn't seem to see how he stays frozen, even after Steve sits down next to him, chatting idly with Argyle, leaning back against his leg. He's entirely unaware of his emotional turmoil.

Eddie blinks, his head fuzzy. The feeling of soft lips against his forehead still lingering. He looks ahead of him, and then looks at Robin, who's already watching him. She has an expression of curiosity, that he unfortunately cannot satisfy at all.

Steve doesn't kiss anybody else on the forehead.

Eddie spends the whole night thinking about it.

Was it just because he was also on the floor? Was it a bit? Did he somehow become part of the weird symbiosis that's Robin & Steve? Is he a platonic soulmate now?

Can he not be?

Can he get another kiss? (Preferably on the mouth.)

[trashogram]

A Drabble for Octavia in the He Chose You universe (if you don’t know what that is, it’s just a Lucifer/Reader I’ve made — you’re the Queen of Hell) who deserves none of the BS she’s had to deal with in Helluva Boss.

Octavia knelt to sit on the playmat, long legs awkwardly splaying outward as she tried to get comfortable. Even if she managed to make her lower half unwind, the Goetian heiress couldn’t imagine her shoulders loosening in this expansive, unbelievable castle. It was even more opulent than her own home. Princess Charlotte watched her make the attempt with a wide, gummy smile from where she’d been trying to roll onto her tummy. Her mother, the Queen, had gotten up only a moment ago and was speaking in hushed tones with the person Via wished the least to see much less hear since she’d taken shelter in Lucifer’s palace.

Pudgy hands on chubby baby arms reached out and Octavia couldn’t help smirking. She reached back and allowed Charlotte to grab onto one of her talons, sharp point curled inward to prevent any injury to the fragile baby.

The baby yanked at her owl counterpart and babbled, until Octavia’s smile softened into something more genuine. It was as if Charlotte knew that Via needed distraction.

“Your majesty, I understand what you’re saying, but I must insist that I at least see my daughter.”

Octavia sunk down further onto the plush pink carpet at the sound of her father’s voice.

“It’s been days!” Stolas said, loud enough to be heard from behind royal walls.

“And as I said before, Octavia shouldn’t be forced to do anything that she’s not comfortable with.” The Queen countered politely, yet firmly.

“Mah!” Octavia’s gaze switched from the ground to Charlotte once again.

The threat of tears in the bird’s glowing eyes were forgotten momentarily as she watched Hell’s princess struggle to flip from her back to her belly. Octavia couldn’t help her frame from shaking with quiet laughter at the sight.

Charlie waved a hand again and her playmate finally took the bait and gently pushed the baby to maneuver onto her side. Charlie’s hooves kicked in the air for purchase as she flopped the rest of the way. She huffed in satisfaction before looking back up at Via with her round, ruby eyes, arms held out to grip and kneed at the fibers beneath.

Charlotte babbled before scooting up toward Via, moving like an inchworm just to get to her.

“What are you doing?” Octavia snorted, instantly stopping the Devil baby in her tracks by leaning over and plucking the tiny thing from the floor.

It was so easy, like picking up taxidermic armadillo paperweight to admire. Just a tad more wriggly and loud.

Charlie smiled widely again and lightly petted Via’s beak. “Mah!”

“Yes, I heard you the first time.” Octavia held the Antichrist close, for lack of any alternative. “You’re nuts, you know?”

The familiar whoosh and accompanying sparkling light of a portal opening up a few feet away had Octavia pulling Charlie to her chest tightly. It earned her a high-pitched bit of nonsense, but Via waited in fear for the figure on the other side to step through.

The becoming-familiar figure of Lucifer hopped through. “Hello girls!”

It took Octavia a moment to get her bearings. Charlie fussed in the owl princess’s loosening arms as Lucifer focused on the two of them.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry sweetie. Didn’t mean to startle you!” The King hunched in on himself to appear smaller, voice going low. “Mom said she had to step out and I got here as fast as I could.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” He continued. “Here, want me to take her?”

Octavia slowly gave Charlotte to her father, watching numbly as he lit up for the baby.

“Dah!” Charlie squealed.

“That’s right! Daddy’s here!” Lucifer kissed her brow, and Charlie was already enthusiastically babbling once more.

He looked back to Octavia. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long…?”

“No, he… he got here a few minutes ago.” Octavia answered.

Lucifer’s expression turned remorseful and subdued, even while Charlie grabbed at lapels. This was the fourth-going-on-fifth time Prince Stolas had come requesting his daughter’s return home, and the situation was becoming as sad as it was frustrating.

It was difficult for Lucifer personally. On one hand, he was a father, and he knew that he’d tear apart Heaven and Hell to keep Charlotte safe with himself and his wife. On the other hand, Octavia’s parents were definitely not Lucifer and his wife. Being around Stella and Stolas Goetia, especially at the height of their marriage falling apart at the seems and one attempting to kill the other — as well as the other flaunting their extramarital affairs (in front of Octavia for fuck’s sake) sounded like the opposite of safe.

“Hey,” Lucifer offered the Owl princess a hand while moving Charlie to his hip. “Are ya hungry? We’ve got a kitchen all the way on the opposite side of the house with anything you could ever want. Or oh! Maybe we could go to that arcade Mammon commissioned up here — Dag and Belphagor’s? I bet they have food, and non-rigged games! Well for us, anyway.”

Lucifer chuckled. And Via looked up at him for a long moment, sizing up the rather diminutive ruler of all Hell as he waited for her with utmost patience. Charlie mimicked him once she’d assessed the situation (as much as a baby could) and held out her hand to Octavia as well, with an energetic ‘Gah!’.

Via smiled before she took the offer. “Sure.”

[starrystevie]

steve falls in love with eddie because he's this perfect amalgamation of everyone he's ever loved.

there's nancy's curly brown hair, of course, but also her fierce stubbornness and her bashful little smile when steve is being purposefully obtuse. there's tommy's passion, his impulsivity, his need to get under steve's skin in the best way possible. there's jonathan's quick remarks with a crooked grin and heather m's soft touches on bruised skin and robin's flailing hands when she talks that steve loves so much.

there's even the dorkiness of his kids that only amplifies when eddie's around them, all their talks of fantastic worlds that steve knows nothing about but nods along like he gets it. there's the bright blinding smiles that seem to pull at every face in the room when they win, hooting and hollering in a harmonious chorus.

steve falls in love with eddie for all of those things but also for all of the things he possesses on his own. his charm and his wit, his need to make steve smile every waking moment. the way he knows when steve needs quiet and dark so he closes the blinds before wrapping him up in his steady arms.

eddie falls in love with steve for all of the things that seem new to him.

he's never had a guy treat him like steve does, never had soft smiles and cards on valentines day, never had date nights or kisses in the daytime or a hand that fits gently against his own. he doesn't feel like a dirty secret pushed away to closets and out of windows. he doesn't see the quick glances around to make sure no one's watching before he gets into steve's car like he's used to getting with old partners. he doesn't get shushed or ignored or heartbroken.

he's used to being shrouded in darkness but steve is like sunshine, his love warming eddie like sunrays in and of themselves. he's used to confusion and questions but steve makes him feel wanted. makes him feel loved back.

steve is protective and smart. he sees through the bullshit eddie's built up around himself and holds him when those walls inevitably crumble down. eddie falls in love with steve because he sees him for who he truly is and loves him because of it.

they fall in love with each other because their jagged edges were made for one another, like puzzle pieces in the wrong box finding their way back home. they fall in love with each other because nothing else has ever felt more right. they fall in love with each other because everyone they loved before was a trial, a test, pushing them together whether they knew it or not.

[natalievoncatte]

Lena was in the dark in more ways than one.

The lights in her penthouse were all dark save one, a night light in her en suite to ensure that she didn’t take a fall if she got up. Swirling the edge of a migraine, she’s grown tired of an again-delayed product launch and the hoary halls of power and their patriarchs. Few things frustrated her more than the spiteful condescension of old men clinging to a world with all the success of a man trying to gather all the sand in a desert through chapped fingers.

Few things annoyed her more.

One of those things, she could give no name. Since Lena had realized Kara’s identity, things had been tense between them. Mostly in a pleasant way; they had been feeling out this new normal, Kara tentatively broaching this or that topic to add to brunch chats and lunchtime gossip.

“Oh,” she’d say, “that last alien hit pretty hard,” as if being knocked clean through a fertilizer plant by a blow to the head were part of her commute.

To Lena it was all new, but there was something else with it. Something neither of them dared to name, some friable, delicate new shape that they could only feel by its edges. It began with Kara bombarding Lena with friendship. Fresh breakfasts hand-delivered at hypersonic speeds. Daily lunches. For the last month, Kara had spent every weekend at Lena’s, or vice versa.

Lena’s penthouse had a guest bedroom. Kara’s place had a bed and a sofa. Comfy, but it was no bed. That was how the dance began. The first steps were hesitant, the dancers circling each other without breaking the barrier. A token argument about who gets the bed, only for them both to share it. And once they’d shared it at Kara’s place, it made no sense for Lena to confine a living space heater to the guest room.

They didn’t discuss, or analyze, or talk it out. No boundaries were ever set, and so the dance continued. What started as two people curled up in a big king bed on opposite sides became the pair of them entangling during the night, then skipping the pretext and curling up with each other before the lights went out.

It was driving Lena insane. Kara never pushed, not really, and yet it just seemed to happen. It was as if her best friend was daring her to take the initiative. The morning when Lena awoke to find Kara’s arm protectively curled about her waist, her thumb hooked on the waistband of Lena’s lounge pants, she’d almost turned over and said something.

The excuse she made was that Kara needed her sleep after the pummeling she’d taken that afternoon. That Lena enjoyed how Kara grazed the pad of her thumb over Lena’s hip bone was incidental.

Lying in the dark, Lena knew that Kara had arrived by the sound of the balcony door opening and didn’t bother to call out to her. Still dressed in her suit, Kara peeked into the bedroom, her movements tentative, somehow almost birdlike.

She came back a moment later with a cool, damp cloth for Lena’s forehead and a few murmured questions, before excusing herself.

“Darling, you can stay,” Lena sighed. “I want you to.”

“Okay,” Kara whispered back, lightly seeping stray curls from Lena’s eyes. “I need to change. No peeking.”

And why would you be worried I’ll peek? Lena thought. A platonic Best Friend isn’t going to peek. Best friends don’t do that, just like they don’t nuzzle into each other on the couch. If Lena were Kara’s best friend, then Lena wouldn’t be looking so much, so openly. Admiring Kara’s smile and her biceps and the way her abdominal muscles strained those button-downs.

She wouldn’t be thinking so much about the touches, the way she’d sat in Kara’s lap for hours at a time or how Kara had carried her to bed or how Supergirl had lingered to cradle her post-rescue, well past the point of safety.

Lena wasn’t aware she was peeking until she’s already started. Kara’s suit had taken care of itself; it was her work clothes she needed to discard. When Lena turned over, there was the broad expanse of Kara’s beautifully muscled back, flexing deliciously as she pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.

Because Kara kept multiple sets of PJs at Lena’s place.

In Lena’s bedroom.

Because this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Lena turned back, knowing with certainty that Kara knew. She must have heard the creaking of the mattress and the soft whisper of skin on silk sheets and the rapidity if Lena’s traitorous heart.

When Kara climbed in with Lena, the world shrank around the pair of them. Kara swept immediately to the boundary tonight, gathering Lena in her arms, hands finding spots just on this side of chaste, and their bodies molded together.

Lena was finally able to get some sleep.

When she awoke, later, Kara stirred with her.

“Zhao,” Kara muttered.

Lena froze, blinking in the dark. That wasn’t a nonsense word; it was Kryptonian.

“Come back. Zhao,” Kara muttered, as Lena stirred. She didn’t seem to be properly waking.

A nickname?

Lena couldn’t remember when she’d started calling Kara Darling, though she increasingly wished she had.

Dear diary, it was on this day at this date that I admitted my feelings to myself before wrapping them in cardboard and then in concrete and then in steel before shoving them somewhere deep down.

Kara, for her part, had tried a few pet names but most were one offs, never quite fitting. She’d even called Lena “buddy” once before Lena had cut that shit off with an arched brow.

Lena stilled. She could deny Kara nothing, and so drifted off to sleep.

By some quirk of fate, they woke almost at the same time. Lena was still groggy and bleary-eyed when Kara’s sky-blues flitted open, bringing more light than the sun itself. She shifted in the bed without letting Lena go and began to murmur something in Kryptonian, cutting herself off as that last sharp, buzzing word tumbled from her lips.

The only world froze. Kara stared at Lena with wide eyes, and the sudden tension between them made both women go rigid, neither willing to move, to break it.

“You called me that in your sleep,” Lena finally whispered. “Zhao. What does it mean?”

Kara was unusually pale.

“Oh, it’s sort of a term of endearment in Kryptonian. It means, um, ah…”

Lena sighed, cracking a soft smile. “Kara, I’m not fluent by any measure, but I know enough Kryptonian to know what Zhao means.”

“Oh,” Kara whispered, barely more than a short and sharp exhale.

“Even if I didn’t,” Lena whispered, locking eyes with her. “Your hand is literally on my ass right now.”

“Oh. Um. Golly. I’m sorry, I…”

Kara started to pull back. Lena gently took hold of Kara’s wrist and held her hand there. Her heart fluttered not only at the strength in Kara’s forearm but how those steel cable muscles went slack beneath her touch.

Lena swiveled her hips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Kara whispered.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got that covered,” said Lena.

Kara shivered. “No, I mean… I don’t know what to…” She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.

Lena pressed in closer, until the space between them was more a theoretical concept than an actuality.

“Just say what you want to say.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Lena snorted a laugh, briefly ashamed at her inner dork, and afraid that Kara would take offense.

“Kara, you’ve been sleeping over every weekend with your hand in my pants for months. Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

Kara grinned, starting to sit up.

“Come on, zhao,” said Kara.

Giving their partner a nickname/having their partner give them a nickname.

[castieldelamancha]

This the very first time, Castiel thinks to himself, they are walking this hallway together without the intention of sharing a brief good night that never feels enough so they can go their separate ways until morning comes around.

This is the very first time he is going to share a bed with Dean. He has faced armies, the cruelty of Hell and the ire of Heaven. Never he has felt such nerves as he is feeling right now. Must be his renewed human status, for sure.

He dares look at the other man walking beside him and, without pausing to give it much thought, he reaches out, letting his pinkie wrap around Dean's, feeling a wave of something that he is sure tastes as shyness. Dean looks at him and, before Castiel has the time to regret it, or ask if it's okay with him, he is moving his hand so he can properly hold onto Castiel's, tightly, firmly, reassuringly. Castiel looks down at their joined hands, marveled at the idea of having this, having Dean, so close to him.

He looks up and Dean, who was already staring at him gives him a smile, one that Castiel can't help but mirror, his heart beating rapidly, and tugs at Castiel's hand, pulling him closer.

They bump into each other and stumble lightly, they laugh, quietly, their steps slowing down for a moment, until Dean seems to feel the need to remind them both they were actually going somewhere, he takes their joined hands, picking up the pace, and presses them both against his chest.

Castiel follows suit, making a promise to himself to never allowed them to go to bed at night in any other way that with their hands interlaced like this.

[link-eats-rocks]

Zelink Day 12: Princess

Delicate and tired; no one asked her what she thought.

Long lashes covering her lowered eyes. Glossy pink lips with just a hint of a frown.

And when each soldier who'd been given the honor stooped to kiss her gloved hand, that frown grew more pronounced.

He wasn't any different from the other young men in that long row. He wore the same royal blue uniform as the rest and his head was bowed low.

So why had she picked him out?

Why had The Princess taken such a risk?

Link rolled over in his stiff, creaky bunk bed and replayed the events of the day for the hundredth time.

Her voice was stuck in his head like a song.

"Meet me at midnight in the grotto," she'd whispered so quietly he wondered if his mind had been playing tricks, "but only if you wish." She'd squeezed his hand in emphasis. "It's not an order."

He pressed his lips to the silk fabric, feeling the heat of her skin beneath and smelling her sweet perfume.

As if taken over by a spell, he'd nodded.

Then she had moved on.

He rubbed his eyes and checked the old clock hanging on the wall in the barracks.

Maybe he'd go early...

He was definitely going. No question there.

Link held up his lantern and took in the large entrance to the grotto. One had to wind all through the garden maze to reach the mouth of this cave, cut through the cliffside that divided the palace from the roaring sea.

He hadn't been to this cave since he was a boy. He'd always thrilled at the way you could hear the waves once you reached the back of it.

Link looked up at the cloudy, starless sky. The light of the moon shone in the middle or the sky. He checked over his shoulder through the hedges of roses and trees. There was no princess in sight.

Was she already inside?

He took a deep breath and stepped off of the grass and onto stone.

It was immediately colder; a different world only a foot away from the outside. Water dripped from the ceiling into puddles and the thump of the droplets echoed against the broad, high stone walls.

The light of his lantern didn't reach the ceiling.

His heartbeat sped up with every step. The rock surrounding him turned from brown to a glittering gray the further inside he went.

Finally, he reached the heart of it. A large, turquoise pond with a patch of land at the other side of the water.

A small, ornate boat sat at the dock on the other side.

Across the water, there were lanterns illuminating the floor and pond, both shimmering. Old sconces and carvings showed the care that had once gone into keeping up this ancient jewel beneath the palace. Now, it was a secret.

Link had wondered as a child if it was just a secret for him and...

His eyes widened.

The Princess sat in the boat with her back turned to him. She was dressed so plainly and hunkered down so small he hadn't seen her at first.

She wore a maids uniform; he could recognize it easily. A long braid hung down her back. She was moving slightly, fidgeting with something.

Link sat down his lantern and placed a hand over his heart, suddenly captured by nerves so intense he wanted to run away.

"Your Highness?" The volume and the way his voice echoed made him cringe.

She looked over her shoulder and the sight of her face took his breath away. She gave him a big smile and at once he knew exactly why he was here. At least, why she'd picked him from the crowd.

"Link, you came after all." Her voice was achingly familiar and alight with childish excitement.

"Of course I did."

She picked up the paddles that were fixed at the side of the boat and she began rowing back across the pond to him. It was a short trip. She looked up at him, her green eyes gleaming amusement as the boat hit a stop against the stone ground. "Even though you didn't recognize me?"

"Princess, I..." He wasn't sure how he was going to manage conversation with this beautiful girl, gazing up at him so sweet and inviting.

She bit her lip. "You do recognize me now, though?"

He wiped his clammy hands on his shirt, suddenly feeling sharply how plain he must look in his stable-wear. It was all he had aside from his uniforms though. "Yes, I do." His voice was shaking. His face heated with embarrassment.

Her smile broadened. "Thank heavens. I was so afraid you wouldn't. Will you go across with me?" She pointed back towards the pretty side of the pond with the statues and bench.

He nodded but made no move to approach.

She waited patiently, staring at him as though she had nowhere else in the world to be.

Finally, he forced his legs to carry him forward. He stepped lightly into the boat and sat down at her side.

Just like earlier, her perfume intoxicated him. It reminded him sharply that this wasn't just any beautiful girl; this was The Princess of Hyrule.

"I'll row," he said hoarsely.

"Naturally. As is tradition."

The heat was stifling. As he picked up the oars, she leaned closer to him, brushing against his side.

Feelings, new and old overwhelmed him, but the enjoyment, the delirium of her company was taking over.

He exited the boat and held out his hand.

She hummed happily and took it.

Sparks.

Neither wore gloves now. Her bare hand against his solidified all the old, suppressed memories of his childhood playmate.

They sat together on the bench. There was a bag beside it that it seemed she'd brought with her. Before she could offer him anything, though, he found his voice.

"You were quite the trickster as a girl. I've been fooled all this time."

She laughed. "It's not my fault you couldn't recognize me in a bit of makeup, Link."

"You'd said your name was Hylia."

"Mm." She clasped her hands and closed her eyes. She bumped her shoulder to his. "Ancient ancestor of the royal family. Do you know your history?"

"No."

She giggled.

The Princess never smiled. Solemn grace was the manner she was known for.

Link wondered if anyone else saw this girlish side of her. "Besides, who would assume it was The Princess that they'd met in a cave? Plus, you dressed like a maid. You'd said you worked at the castle."

She met his eyes, feigning seriousness. "I do work at the castle. You're trying to catch me in a lie but it won't work. I couldn't exactly wear a ballgown in here either."

"That's true."

"My name is Zelda, really though. Of course you know that." She picked at the skirt of her dress, looking almost-shy for the first time that night.

"I'm not allowed to call you that, though."

She looked at him sharply, her smile vanishing. "You aren't allowed to call me anything else, Link."

"But, I—I would—."

"Please."

He swallowed hard. He couldn't possibly turn down a request from the girl in front of him, who was pouting so cutely and invading his space.

"Zelda," he whispered.

She looked as if she might faint. He thought she really might when she swayed towards him. Then her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she kissed his cheek.

He closed his eyes as his mouth watered and his face went so hot he thought he might melt.

"Thank you, Link." She dropped her head to his shoulder. "You must think me mad. I have gone mad, but...it's fresh on my mind; how we used to be. If you don't feel the same..."

He turned suddenly, nose to nose with her as her arms remained around his neck. "I do. I feel the same. You can—We—." He shook his head, trying to regain some semblance of intelligent thought. "It can be however you want it to be."

She gave him a dazed look that made him think this was all a dream and he'd wake up in the barracks cold and disappointed.

"There's a reason I asked you here out of the blue after all these years. When was the last time we came here?"

"I was ten."

"Then I was eight," she said. "Nine whole years. No wonder you didn't recognize me." She dropped her arms from him and folded her hands in her lap.

"Now that I see you up close, I don't know how I didn't."

That brought a small smile back to her lips. "The reason, after all this time...First of all, it was the only opportunity I've had in a long time. Amazing how the knights' training grounds and my area of the palace are a world away. But also, I felt desperate to see you because my father has decided it is time for me to make a marriage of strategic benefit to the land."

"Oh." Strange, how he'd been with her under an hour, after 9 years, yet his heart was already sinking at the thought of her with someone else.

"Link, do you have a family?"

The question caught him off guard. "My father was a knight before me."

Zelda nodded for him to go on as she reached for her bag.

"But he has passed away. My little sister and grandmother live on the other side of the sea."

It seemed he'd given a good answer. As Zelda sat the bag in her lap, she perked up, grinning at him again. Her face even flushed. "Really? On the other continent?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Have you been there?"

He shook his head. "My father saved up money and moved them there before he died. It was safer at the time."

"It's still safer," she said.

He couldn't have said it, but it was true.

Tensions between Rhoam and the Gerudo's leader, Ganondorf, were high. There could be a war any moment, and it had been that way for years.

"Hmm," Zelda said. "Are you hungry?"

He was always hungry. Soldiers rations were pitiful. "Um."

Zelda nodded decisively, as if he'd actually answered, and she unwrapped a baguette and block of cheese from her bag.

"Oh wow," he said excitedly.

Then she got out a a neatly-wrapped brand new hunk of meat.

Link looked at her in amazement and she giggled.

"There's more," she said, elbowing him teasingly. The last thing in the contents of the bag: a bottle of wine.

"Are you sure?"

"It's very old and expensive," she said. "Will you open it?"

Link was thrilled. This would go down in history as the best night of his life. He was eating food from the actual royal palace kitchen and drinking fine wine with the most gorgeous girl in the entire world.

He retrieved his knife from his pocket and popped the cork out of the bottle like he'd been practicing his whole life (although he'd never done it before).

Zelda clapped. "I didn't bring any dishes or silverware so we'll just have to eat and drink like savages."

"Fine by me," he chuckled.

For awhile, they ate and drank in silence.

Maybe Link shouldn't have taken her permission to eat like a savage so literally but he couldn't help it. The meat and cheese and bread were so beyond delicious and normally he didn't get to drink anything but water. In fact, he couldn't recall the last time he'd drank.

Maybe twice with his father. He had no clue how much or at what pace was acceptable but from the amused look on Zelda’s face, he got the feeling he wasn't doing this quite right.

Still, he was sharing and she seemed to be having her fill so it shouldn't matter.

"I hope you won't be sick," she said as Link was slowing down.

"I'm sorry, Princ—Zelda. I haven't had a proper meal in awhile."

She took the wine bottle and held it up to the lantern light. She swished the remainder around and laughed. "You're going to be sick. I'd better finish it off so you won't be alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Well you didn't drink all this on your own, I suppose." She pressed the back of her hand to her red cheek and clicked her tongue. "Perhaps I should've brought water."

"I have water all the time," he said, annoyed at the mere idea of it.

Zelda polished it off with a wince and set it aside, then packed away the little of the food that was left.

She rested her head on his shoulder and hooked her arm in his. The warmth and her weight against him made Link dizzyingly sleepy. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

"Link?"

"Yeah, Zelda?"

"Remember how I said the otherrr reason I wan'ed to see you was because Rhoam wants to marry me off?"

She called her father by his first name. That figured. He didn't seem like a great guy.

"Yeah."

"How would you feel, an' be honest, about going to see your grandma and sister...with me?"

"You're going to see my grandma and sister?" He felt funny, half asleep but not sleepy.

She laughed and nuzzled against his shoulder.

It made his stomach flutter.

"If you take me to meet them. It feels like fate that you have family far away in a safer country, one where I'd never be found." She paused and sat up, making Link lose his balance.

He caught himself by taking hold of her arms.

She put her hands on his face in return. "Pay attention. I'm serious. Run away with me. We'll sneak onto a boat. I'll sell my jewelry and we'd-hic-have plenty to live off of. And we'll find your fam'ly and I'll be a regular girl."

Link blinked at the three Zeldas in front of him. "That's crazy," he whispered.

Her lip trembled and she nodded agreement. "It's okay. It was just an idea. Because I don't want to get married."

"We've already snuck away tonight. And you're dressed like a commoner. We could leave right now."

Zelda’s eyes welled. "I was hoping you'd say that. Look." She held up the bag for him to see inside. At the bottom was a pile of luminous gemstones wound in gold; rings, necklaces, bracelets, broaches, hairpins.

"You planned it already," he breathed.

"Mm. I thought tonight, I'd either see you one last time or...you might join me."

"Zelda."

"I don’t want to be a princess. I don't want to live under my father’s rule. I don't want to be in this country. It's selfish..."

He traced a hand through her hair, tucking a curl behind her ear. All of his nerves from earlier were washed away with the wine. "Who would he have had you marry?"

Her eyes welled with tears and she looked away. It took her a long time to answer. "Ganondorf."

The name sobered him, at least a little. He shook his head. "No. No, Zelda." He kissed her cheek. "No." Her forehead. "No." Her temple. "No." He trailed down her face in kisses while she cried. "No, no, no, no, no."

Holding her face in his hands he leaned back and tilted her chin up. "I'm taking you away. Far away."

She exhaled a laughed through her soft cries. "My hero."

"Let's go." He took her hand.

That stopped her crying. She looked at him with wide eyes and a grin. "Let's sleep awhile and then go. I'm a bit dizzy. Aren't you?"

He'd forgotten that he was; he was so overcome by the need to protect her.

She closed her eyes. "Just for a little while. No one will find us here."

"No one will find us," he confirmed, his meaning more broad and final.

She sighed and her shoulders slackened. "I'm so happy."

"We'll run for the harbor, first thing."

She hugged her arms around his waist. They were nearly the same height, but she sunk down until her head was against his chest. "Thank you, Link. You are saving my life."

He really was falling asleep this time, so drowsy that the stone backrest and seat were comfortable. "I'll be glad to see my sister."

She squeezed him tighter and he ran his hands up and down her back. "We'll have fun."

"More fun than when we were kids."

She laughed against him, sounding close to sleep. "Even more. We'll be free. No more Princess."

"No more Princess."

[epiclamer]

…married hero x villain…for no particular reason

Mmmmmmpretty princess

Lost

When Villain awoke they were warm, it was a refreshing kind of warm, not too hot and not too cold. It was perfect. Duvet tangled in their legs, barely covering their exposed body. And as they gingerly opened their eyes they could see their partner looking as peaceful as ever to their left.

Sleepy eyes and perfectly pink lips that shuddered just slightly when they exhaled. It would’ve been a perfect moment, if not for the countless bandages that crisscrossed over every part of the poor hero. Some stained pink, others still held their bland white colour from when they were placed the night before.

Villain would need to refresh those all before the day started and make sure they hadn’t torn any stitches while they slept.

They smiled fondly at their love, even buried under all those injuries they still looked angelic. Something the villain thought they could never master—even if the hero thought differently.

Seemingly aware of the villain’s eyes on their figure, Hero slowly stirred awake, wincing slightly when they stretched a little too far and furrowing their brow with a twinge of pain as they regained feeling in all their limbs.

Villain was going to kill whoever did this to their lover.

“Good-morning, sleepy head~” they mumbled, voice still a little raspy. Using that same familiar tone Hero seemed to love as they blushed to consciousness.

“Mmmm…”

Adorable.

The criminal rolled over to flop softly against the other, leaving their peaceful warmth for Hero’s aching and overheating body. Fever symptoms from all of the wounds, some maybe even infected. But the hero was also just a naturally hot individual, in more ways than one, paired with being a blanket hog, which guaranteed they’d be sweaty and flushed each morning.

Planting a kiss on the hero’s forehead, Villain gently pulled back the sweaty blanket to reveal their lobster red lover. They couldn’t help but roll their eyes when Hero whined in disapproval at the loss of heat, but it made their heart swell in reality.

“You’re burning up, sweetie. Let’s get you some medicine, okay?” Hero nodded tiredly, eyes still barely open as they fluttered shut once more.

It triggered Villains anxiety, they hated when it felt like a closing of eyes meant they’d never reopen. But Hero was in good health—besides the beating they had taken—so they had to trust that everything was going to be okay.

Still, it seemed like no matter how many times they reassured themselves, their hands still shook and their mind still raced to catastrophe.

Hero hummed, getting Villains attention from where they had turned to the nightstand. Cluttered with first aid supplies and medications. “Breathe, baby… ‘m okay…”

It always worked when it was Hero. Four words and Villain felt on top of the world. Relaxing their posture and releasing their held breath, Hero was okay.

Everything was okay.

The crime-stopper smirked lazily as they watched their significant other work with their hands, now presumably more calm than before. As they turned and held the brown liquid up to the hero’s lips.

With a cocky wink, Hero put their lips around the spoon, allowing the villain to tip the liquid down their throat.

It didn’t taste good, Villain could tell by the scrunched face Hero promoted, but they needed it. It would help keep any infections at bay and their temperature at a healthy level.

Hero finally moved to sit up, revealing all of their bruises—old and new—and any gashes that had slipped from their bandages. Slowly pushing themselves to stand out of bed as they began to limp towards the kitchen.

Villain sighed, their lover had zero sense of self-care. Always working too hard, always overworking.

Thankfully, the villain had put in place a plan to stop any such thing from happening for at least the next week. At least until they got better.

They hurried after the other and into the kitchen with the first aid kit under their arm. Hero was already scouring the fridge for leftovers, while Villain searched for a fresh washcloth to tend to the hero’s wounds.

Head shoved into a cabinet, Villain startled when they felt the hero’s hands on their hips, gently pulling them back from the fresh linens. Kissing them gently to guide their attention.

“Don’t need one of those, love… I’ve got an early patrol this morning so I’ll be heading straight out.”

Villain almost burst out laughing.

“Must have a concussion too if you think I’m letting you out of this house and into patrol after you showed up covered in your own blood last night.”

The crime-stopper scoffed gently, leaving their crusade for food as they headed for the closet. “Sweetheart, duty calls. I can’t just not show—”

Hero stopped. Doors to the closet gaping open as they stared, jaw slightly open. They rubbed their eyes quickly for a second as if they couldn’t believe it, before turning towards the villain.

“Baby,”

“Hm?”

“Where is my suit?”

At that, Villain couldn’t hold it in any longer. A massive grin breaking out onto their face as they arched their eyebrows up innocently.

“Once you find it, then you can head out to patrol.”

[farfromstrange]

Pointless | m.m

A Foreigner's God One-shot.

[BUT IT CAN BE READ SEPERATELY SO I TAGGED IR MATTXREADER]

no name used.

FG masterlist

Summary: A glimpse into how much she truly means to him.

Warnings: none, fluff

a/n: I was listening to Pointless by Lewis Capaldi (because I'm gonna see him in concert in March and I love the song) and I instantly thought of them. I only did it with the first part of the thing because there are details I’ve already written about. Maybe I’ll do the second part at a later time. Who knows. Do with this as you will.

I bring her coffee in the morning.

Love is one of the strongest emotions the human soul is capable of concocting. Sometimes, we fall in love fast and hard and often without warning, and that love goes over just as fast. And then there are times when we fall in love so deeply, chances are we will never fall out of love with that person again. 

Matt could count down the times he’s been in love on one hand. The first time was the worst one because he fell in love with the wrong person. He fell in love for the first time with someone who was sent to turn him into something he was not, and while she fell for him too, loving her made him feel the most worthless he ever had. 

There was Elektra and then there was her.

The woman he met that one summer night on the roof of one of Hell’s Kitchen’s most organic butcher shops. Even throughout the stench of death, pearled meat, and blood, all he could smell was her. She put him under a spell the second he first picked up on her heartbeat, the vanilla and unique scent of her sensitive body wash going with the wind and brushing through the tiny hairs in his nose where the receptors responsible for his sense of smell lay. 

He had only sneered at her attempts to attack him, but she was stronger than he anticipated and he got his ass handed to him for the first time since college. At that moment he knew that he needed to see her again. He fell in love without knowing right away. The more time he spent with her, the clearer the fact got and when he finally acknowledged it, she was too deep in her own state of denial to return his feelings. 

It took far too long for them to find together, too many tears shed and too many sleepless nights spent next to each other before she left and took his heart with her. And then she almost died and he felt empty all over again. She pushed him away with the cruelest things to say and that should have been the last straw. It should have been the last straw with Elektra, so it should have been with her as well. He should have listened to his common sense. He deserved better. She was toxic for him, as were all the people he had ever felt anything resembling love toward - except Foggy because in that case, Matt was the toxic one. His relationship were doomed to fail, he realized that, so his twisted, conscious response was to hold on tighter before she forced him to let go. 

And even then he came climbing back up the ragged edges of the cliff to crawl back home to her on bloodied knees, more than willing to do whatever she told him it would take to make her love him. He didn’t need much, he only wanted her, no matter the capacity. 

But all of his kneeling at God’s feet proved fruitful. She came back. Against all odds, she fell in love with him too, and not because she lost at a game or failed the mission. She fell in love with him because of him. There was no catch, although he feared that every time he woke up next to her in bed, listening to her even breathing heartbeat and he struggled to fall asleep again.

What if she slipped away again? He asked himself the same question over and over again, and over and over again he woke up with her still beside him, either curled into his chest or tangled in his sheets and pillow, sleeping like a princess. She was the most innocent like that, and nothing could hurt her when he was next to her. Perhaps if he kept reminding himself that she was still alive and right next to him by running his hand down her bare back, he could start telling himself that his love no longer remained unrequited. He could tell himself that war was over, finally, and that he had nothing more to worry about. She was his and she swore she wouldn’t leave. That had to count for something because her heartbeat told the truth, and he knew she would never lie to him. She hadn’t done so before, so she surely wouldn’t start now that they were both recovering and starting to fall into a rhythm that fit for the both of them. 

Matt was so in love with her that it hurt. But it wasn’t bad pain, realized. The pain reminded him that their love was real, at least, and he wasn’t imagining or dreaming. 

The world around him was so loud all the time, though the streets suddenly went quiet every time he woke up in her arms. He made it a tradition to bring her coffee for breakfast because he was often the first one awake, especially with her nightmares lulling her mind into an exhausted fog only early in the morning. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” She asked him out of the blue one morning and he frowned, not quite sure what she meant, and his heart jumped at the uncertainty – maybe he had done something, messed up, and didn’t realize it because he had been told the same thing many times before.

She was something he didn’t want to screw up. Her love was too valuable to lose, and she was by far the greatest and most understanding person he had ever met who was more than okay with who he was.

Peaceful, he believed, was the word he searched for. She was peaceful and it made him feel more at ease with who he was, the noise and the smell of the world mattered less. They were never fully gone, but with her around he had something else to focus on, and she was patient enough to take her time and take care of him when he needed it. 

Fiddling with the mug, his eyebrows furrowed and unclenched, his lip tilting into an awkward smile as he tried his best to point his sightless gaze in her direction. He was getting better every day, anticipating the position of her eyes and her face just by listening to her breath, but his eyes more often than not missed the mark because he couldn’t tell where exactly he was pointing them. She often turned his head, knowing he wanted nothing more than to give her a sense of normality, even though she told him countless times that she didn’t even notice – this was something that couldn’t go unnoticed, and yet to her, it was normal. She didn’t care, but he still felt the need to adjust just a little, even if it was just for his personal satisfaction. 

“Do what?” he asked right back.

Her finger traced the brim of the mug, playing with the condensed air from the hot coffee. The water slid over her fingertips and into the lines on her palm, soaking into the skin. 

“Make me coffee every morning,” she said. “You do that every day, but you never let me do it. Why?”

The answer sounded quite simple. “Because I love you,” he stated. But it wasn’t exactly simple. 

Love means different things to different people. For Matt, the word had a deeper meaning, and the way he felt about her ran even further than that. He made her coffee because she brought him peace and loving her made him feel the desperate need to serve. His love language was touch paired with acts of service, especially those he wanted to make seem as casual as possible – their relationship was far from normal, their lives even more so; doing something as domestic as making his girlfriend coffee in the morning offered a certain escape from the world of pain they resided in. Together, the weight of the world became more bearable. He needed the peace as much as she did, and if brewing a kettle of coffee before breakfast and waking her up with gentle kisses could offer some of that, he would do just that. It was the least he could do and the least she deserved. 

Matt noticed a lot about her throughout their relationship. Every little thing, he noted. Every little thing made him fall only deeper in love with her. 

She brings me inner peace. 

I take her to fancy restaurants. She takes the sadness out of me.

If there was one thing she hated it had to be those expensive restaurants on the upper east side that Tony often took her to. It reminded her of different times, times before her life went to hell, and she didn’t want to go back there ever again. 

She was happy with what little money they had, and if going on a dinner date at a cheap diner was what it took, then she would gladly do it. 

Though every once in a while, Matt liked to treat his girl. He wanted to treat her right. So he grabbed whatever gift he had picked up and took her to one of the restaurants in Manhattan that he could barely afford, but saved up to make her feel special. She put on a fancy dress and he put on a tuxedo and together, they ate the most expensive food known to man, but it was good and it felt normal. 

They laughed all evening, spending the entire walk home just chatting and laughing and he could be carefree, finally, because there was not a city that needed him but the love of his life by his side, removing all the terrible thoughts from his mind and filling him with the utmost joy. He couldn’t ask for anything better. 

I love it when her mind wanders,

And she loves it when I stay at home.

I know when she's lost and she knows when I feel alone.

And whenever he cried, she would be there to hold him. Always. She would ask him to dance or sing to him and the world would feel a little less terrible. In exchange, he did the same for her. But the nights they spent tangled in the kitchen, cookies in the oven and dancing to some song she found on Spotify that was not meant for slow dancing, but they did it anyway because they belonged together and everything could be what they wanted it to. There were not limits as long as they were together. 

I make her cards on her birthday,

She makes me a better man.

Matt loved her. He loved her so much, it hurt. For her, he wanted to try all the things good boyfriends to - make breakfast in bed, take her out to dinner or lunch, buy her flowers every day, make random gifts or cook, and she ate it up every time. Every little thing he did, she was thankful for, he could tell, and she gave back just as generously. She read him like an open book. Nothing went past her. She would do whatever it took to make him feel better than he did, and in exchange, he turned from the selfish man he thought he was into someone else. The catholic guilt barely mattered anymore. He found his faith again because he found her and their lives were better together. It was normal, domestic, and he wanted to marry her so desperately, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it off. 

I take her water when she's thirsty,

She takes me as I am.

There was nothing that could have possibly separated them.

Without her, nothing was the name, and his life seemed a little less worth it. He needed her like he needed air. He prayed for her to stay, that she would never leave him. There was no point to living if she wasn’t with him. He needed to hold onto that, the little sliver of happiness, no more fear or pushing away, just them for all eternity.

He needed her and she needed him and together, they could survive anything that life might throw their way.

From all my airs and graces,

To the little things I do;

Everything is pointless without you.

[honestlydarkprincess]

let me take care of you

stiles x derek || rated: t || wc: 1.3k

Stiles couldn’t do anything but stare at the alpha werewolf as he rambled while unloading the aforementioned supplies from the grocery bag to Stiles’ counter.

Nothing Stiles was seeing made sense.

Why was Derek here, in his apartment, with cold medicine and fucking soup?

Or, the one where Derek comes over to take care of a sick Stiles. They talk about their moms and confess some feelings. It's all very soft.

read on ao3

[yoshizora]

after months i finally complete a WIP (which i'm still not totally satisfied with but i think i have to start throwing things at the wall to see what sticks otherwise i'll keep putting off writing /wheezes)

[swbumblebee]

“Thank you for joining me Masters Jedi” The reporter, a petite Mon Calamari, greeted them with a well-practiced smile, desperately hoping it hid her nerves as the selection of available (or, she had a sneaking suspicion, those who were not quite quick enough with a plausible excuse) council members filed in. They took seats in the comfortable chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of her.

“Thank you for inviting us” Obi-Wan Kenobi responded with a charming smile, characteristically polite and the voice of the group as they sat down. Mace Windu and Plo Koon both nodded in acknowledgement, Shaak Ti smiled serenely and Kit Fisto flashed her his usual wide grin. It was like looking at holo-posters.    

“Please make yourselves comfortable” She cleared her throat and switched on her holo-mic “and before we start, my listeners have asked me to pass on their heartfelt thanks for all your efforts during the war, and for making the Galaxy safe once again.”

At this there was some shuffling, her Jedi guests looking between each other, a surprising air of awkwardness settled over the group and she instantly kicked herself.

“We simply followed the will of the Force, and we were fortunate enough to have our Trooper brothers with us. We could not have prevailed without them” Master Plo Koon replied with a slight dip of his head in thanks, even as he shrugged off the compliment.

The reporter smiled back at him.

“Of course, I’m very excited to meet them later.” She said, noting the rather pleased looks on the Jedi’s faces as she did so and hoping she had clawed back some goodwill. “For now, though, I’m very interested in learning more about our Jedi heroes and I have some fantastic questions from our listeners.”  She settled back in her chair and looked at her notes, willing her hands to stop shaking. This was a career making opportunity.

 “Could I first ask, to set us up nicely, for you all to state your name, species and age for the holo-mic please. It helps listeners distinguish voices and really build a picture of you” she explained, getting down to business.

“Sure! I’m Kit Fisto, Nautolian, and I’m fifty-five in standard years.” The first Jedi, a shockingly youthful (and very handsome) male smiled at her reaction as the reporter’s face widened in surprise.

“My species age well” he said with a wink, and the reporter was amused to note his confidence got him a whack on the leg from the next Jedi, Shaak Ti.

“Greetings, I am Shaak Ti, Togrutan and I am fifty-eight in Galactic Standard Years” she said with a lovely, measured voice that would make an excellent narrator, the reporter thought.  

“Thank you” She said, before moving down the line.

“I am Plo Koon, Kel Dor, and I am three hundred and eighty-five GSY old” he said rather proudly, the reporter thought. She nodded in appreciation and slight awe. She understood some of the older races had different life spans and ages, but she’d never met one before.

“I am Mace Windu, Korun from Haruun Kal, and I am sixty-one GSY.” The reporter struggled to meet the serious brown eyes of the head of the order, trying very hard not to be intimidated she nodded in thanks and moved on to her last guest. Her personal favourite.

“Hello there, I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, a near-human from Stewjon and I’m thirty-eight.” He said with another polite smile.

“Excellent, now then-“

“Pardon?”

The reporter was incredibly surprised to be interrupted by the serene master herself, Shaak Ti, who had something akin to shock on her face.

“ah, sorry? What?” Master Kenobi asked, a little unsure, looking between his colleague and the reporter, who shrugged a little.

Master Ti looked at him down the line.

“You’re how old?!” she asked again.

Master Kenobi was starting to look downright uneasy.

“I’m…thirty-eight.”

Master Ti continued to stare at him.

“In Galactic Standard Years?” she clarified incredulously

“Yes-“

A snort came from Master Fisto at the other end of the line.

“Ahh Shaak. All this time, didn’t realise he was a baby did you?” he said knowingly.

“I am not a baby!” Master Kenobi spluttered.

“I mean I knew he was young but…”

“Now hang on, I’m not that young-“

“I had a similar moment of realisation about halfway through the war” Plo pacified her with an understanding pat. “We basically followed a teenager into battle” he said sagely.

“Oh now you’re just being –“

“Did you know about this?!” Shaak asked the head of the order accusingly, ignoring her young colleague’s protests.

Master Windu’s frown held a hint of amusement.

“Yes…I can do mathematics, and read personnel files…” he answered slowly, dry as the dessert. Master Ti glared at him.   

“Sorry Obi-Wan” The surprised Togruten turned at last to mollify her colleague. “I’m just…surprised. That makes you the youngest member in…a while. I can’t believe I never knew!” She said in amazement.

“He’s the youngest ever member if I am correct” Master Windu stated, with a rather smug smile, and the reporter was amused to note Master Plo Koon nodding along with a distinct air of pride.

For his part, the reporter could swear Young Master Kenobi’s ears were starting to turn an amusing shade of pink, and for some reason he scowled slightly.

“Depa is only five years older than me!” he grumbled into his folded arms.

“Yeah but she’s Depa” Master Fisto chimed in, in a knowing tone.

“mmm”

“True”

“Yes”

“Right”

“Just what is that supposed to mean-“

The reporter blinked at the scene in before her, rapidly descending into a friendly argument and the bickering of age-old friends. Or, young friends, as the case may be.

She looked at her stack of questions again, and grinned, her previous nerves about interviewing the most powerful beings in the galaxy all but disappearing as Master Fisto winked at her again and Master Plo leaned over to ruffle Master Kenobi’s hair, dodging around a protective Master Windu.

She put the questions on the floor under her chair and grinned.

[letyukisayfuck]

re: that post about characters in relationships being friends. the lack of that is my problem with a large percentage of older existing m/f fic, honestly. it feels like people correctly assess that this is a romance between these two characters... and fail to comprehend WHAT they like about each other, or even that they DO genuinely like each other.

[thee-morrigan]

golden hour

The Wayhaven Chronicles Nate Sewell/Holland Townsend (f!detective) 1.3k words rated G read it on AO3

— The first thing Nate saw that morning was a pair of dark green eyes, close enough and focused enough that he almost started. 

Next to him, Holland smiled a bit sheepishly. "Hi."

He couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.

"Good morning," he replied, voice still husky with sleep. He shifted closer, reveling in the sleep-warm softness of her body against his as he draped an arm over her hip. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her familiar scent — smoky and spicy-sweet and delicately floral, like bourbon and rosewater.

“You’re up early,” he murmured against her skin, his lips curving upwards as he felt her shiver slightly.

Holland let out a contented sigh as she nestled closer to him. It was still early, the first fingers of morning light stretching lazily through the blinds, painting the room in muted gold stripes.

"I could say the same for you," Holland quipped, the wry humor in her voice betraying her alertness, despite the early hour. “You know, I really feel like it goes against the natural order of things for a vampire to sleep more than a human,” she continued.

Nate gave a hum of a laugh, the sound vibrating against her skin, making her shiver again, squirming against him. “Or perhaps you don't sleep enough," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "I’m surprised you’re still in bed.”

“I mean, it’s still—” she paused and twisted in his arms, one hand still pressed against him, the other stretching toward the nightstand where her phone lay. She tapped a finger against it and squinted against the brightness of the screen, eyes still unfocused and drowsy, until the blur of white lines shifted into something resembling numbers. 

“—early,” she finished after a beat, the smudge of almost-numbers appearing close enough to five o’clock that she stopped trying to read the too-bright screen with any precision. “I imagine most people in this time zone are still in bed.”  

She turned back to him with an arched brow, letting him tug her closer again as she allowed herself to be coaxed back into the warmth of their shared body heat.

Nate chuckled softly, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you well into your second cup of coffee at this time of morning before. More than once,” he teased, soft amusement curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, well,” she drawled, tipping her head back to look up at him with a lopsided grin. “I know this is probably shocking, given how much I rely on my caffeine dependence as a personality trait, but— I might find staying in bed with you slightly more appealing than coffee.”

His smile widened, though with less amusement now, and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose, then another, lingering one to her mouth, one hand sliding up her arm to cup her cheek.

“High praise,” he said with another hum of soft laughter. “Considering how much you love coffee.”

“I often find myself wondering if it’s one of the great loves of my life,” she quipped. “Coffee, I mean.” 

The smile she shot him was placid enough, but the tiny intake of breath was a little too sharp and shallow to maintain the air of casual humor she was projecting, the brief, fluttering spike in her pulse belying her words.

“Of course. Coffee,” Nate agreed, and though his tone matched hers in its dry informality, his expression had softened, the affection in the dark warmth of his eyes so radiant that she had to fight the urge to shield herself from its glow.

"May I ask what the others are?"

She blinked, pulling herself out of the softness of his gaze. "Um. Others?"

"You said one of the loves of your life," he clarified, that teasing lilt back in his voice.

"Oh, ah... well," she stammered, pulling back a fraction, her eyes drifting away from his as she thought, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Books, obviously," she offered after a moment, her attention returning to his face, but not quite meeting his eyes. "Music, more obviously."

The smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth was almost indulgent. "Obviously," he echoed, running his thumb along the curve of her jaw. "Anything else?" he asked, his voice gentle and coaxing.

Holland hesitated, a hint of uncertainty crossing her features before she mustered a small smile. "Well, if you really want to be this sappy this early in the morning," she started, her cheeks flushing despite her best efforts to remain nonchalant, "I suppose I'd also include you on that list. Also obviously."

Nate's smile grew even wider at her confession, the radiant warmth in his eyes rivaling the first rays of dawn filtering in through the blinds. "Really?" he murmured, the teasing edge to his voice all but gone now.

"Yes, really," she affirmed, her tone playful, but her gaze steady and sincere.

He cupped her face gently, his dark eyes flickering with an abundance of affection that Holland found almost overwhelming.

"In that case, I am honored," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek in what felt like reverence.

Holland shrugged, feigning indifference even as a warm smile threatened to break free. "Yes, well, I've got to have something to put on that list other than caffeine and escapism."

"Naturally," he agreed with a soft laugh, his breath ruffling the ends of her hair.

Her mouth curled into a grin as she looked at him, the giddy sensation fluttering in her chest making it impossible for her to remain aloof. Nate smiled back at her, and the sheer joy on his face shone so brightly that Holland wondered if some levels of happiness ought to require some kind of protective eye wear. 

The thought made her laugh. “You keep smiling at me like that and I’m going to have to make a pinhole camera just to look at you.”

That made him laugh too. And then he was kissing her again, still half laughing, fingers sliding through her hair, cupping the back of her head. 

When he finally pulled back—barely, just far enough to rest his forehead against hers—she kept her eyes closed for a long moment before opening one and squinting up at him dubiously. 

“What?” He was still smiling at her, but its effect was somewhat dimmed by bemusement.

She opened her other eye. “Just checking to see if I need, like, those solar eclipse glasses or something.”

“Well,” he said, fingers light as a breath on her cheek as he brushed a lock of hair out of her face, curving it behind her ear. “I find I have a lot to smile about. Much more so lately.”

This last he said into her skin, mouth tracing a warm path along her jawline.

"Is that so?” She managed to keep her voice steady despite the delicious distraction of his lips on her skin. She reached up, twining her fingers through the soft waves of his hair.

"Yes,” he replied, voice muffled by the soft curve of her neck. “More than you can know.”

He pulled away just enough to look at her, his hand rising to gently cup her cheek. "I mean it, Holland," he said earnestly. His fingers grazed down the side of her arm, causing goosebumps to blossom on her skin. "You've made me happier than I ever thought possible."

There it was again, that unbearable honesty that made her breath catch. Holland's heart did a gentle, awkward somersault — an inelegant thing, all elbows and knees and unbalanced tumbling against her rib cage — and she closed her eyes, swallowing down the effervescent swell of emotion simmering in her throat.

It bubbled over anyway, escaping in a breathy giggle as she opened her eyes again. "I just want you to know," she said, mirth still shimmering in her eyes, "that you will be the one explaining to Adam why I stole his sunglasses."

[iguana-eyanna]

Bring Me Inner Peace

Summary: You come back home and sense that something's wrong as Lewis is trying to make a dinner

A/N: based on the song Pointless by Lewey himself. Mentions of kitchen mishap

You came home with bags of groceries. You've been meaning to fill the fridge with food but you and Lewis both had busy schedules. But you made sure to stock it fully as tonight was your first anniversary.

"Baby, you around?" You ask out loud.

You saw his car in the driveway, hoping you'd see him on the couch watching his favorite raunchy tv show. You get worried momentarily as you can't see him around.

"FUCK!" Lewis screams out loud. Hearing him from the kitchen, you dropped the bags of food and were almost taken back at the scene.

The kitchen is a bit messy with disregarded dishes and pans of almost charred food and chopped vegetables. Lewis was standing with his face scrunched up in pain, flicking his hand in the air as it looked like he burned it.

He looks up at you, feeling flushed and embarrassed as he tried hiding his hand.

"Love, you weren't supposed to come till an hour from now." He asks.

"I got to leave early and decided to get some food. What happened?" You ask as you reach for his hand as he slightly whimpered

"I- I tried making dinner but the recipe, I kept messing up and I accidentally burned myself. I tried to make your favorite... you know, the one dish we went in France when you visited me on tour? I tried to make tonight perfect, I-" Lewis tries to finish his sentence but he began to stutter, slightly shifting his head to the side numerous times.

"Don't worry, baby. Let's just focus on your hand right now" You murmur as you kissed his cheek softly.

He went to the table and sat down while you got the first aid kit and a wet cloth. When you press it in his palm, Lew slightly hisses but the pain soon subsided. You then applied some lotion and bandaged his hand.

Lew's heart melts at how attentive you are.

You know he's been really stressed all this time as he was releasing his new album this year. He tried brushing it off but he was nervous of the outcome.

Once you were down, you lightly kiss his palm. He tries getting up to resume cooking, but you hold his hand that wasn't burned

"We can worry about dinner later. I want to hear what's going on."

You let him calm down as you brush your fingers through his hair. He looks up at you with sad eyes.

"I tried so hard to make tonight perfect. I wanted to make you a new type of dish and I... I've been saving up to buy you your present. I was hoping to pick it up after I made the food but I read on my phone that it got lost in transit. That's when I burned my hand. I'm sorry if I messed up tonight." He said in a low tone.

"Love, you did nothing of the matter. If I made dinner, our apartment would be either flooded or up in flames." You reassured him with a joke which he softly chuckles.

"But you know fancy dinners or expensive gifts don't matter to me. It's knowing if you're loved, cherished, and especially...knowing you're alright. I love you, and I don't ever want to be the reason you're hurting. Cause I would kick my own ass." you said.

He laughs more as you places his hand around your waist.

"I love you too. Thank you, for always taking care of me."

You lean in and give him a slow, sweet kiss.

"In sickness or in health, love. You're stuck with me."

He gives you a peck and stares at you.

"Till death do us part."

Soon, you guys went to the kitchen and saw what you could salvage from dinner. You brought back the groceries you bought and decided to make spaghetti. You two ate and went to the couch to watch a movie.

You lay in his lap during the film and look up to him.

"Are you feeling better?" You ask as you get up.

He smiles as he snuggles closer to you, resting his head by your shoulder.

"Yeah, I can't thank you enough for tonight. You always bring me inner peace. Happy anniversary, angel." He says, knowing how lucky he is to have you.

You smile down at him and hold the back of his head and kiss him.

"Happy anniversary, Lew."

Looking back, he saw how his attempted grand gestures were pointless, as all he ever needed was you