#so I PRAY it's not soaking wet nor dry

[ichorousisopod]

I wonder if my isopods are doing okay...

[chenziee]

Love at Sunrise (the worst kind)

HAPPY LAWLU DAY!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Coming back with Chains of Fate for @truffyfest Summer of Lawlu!! But also we all know that I am insane so of course I didn't stop there. We have:

Summer of Lawlu, June 6: DAWN | CAUGHT IN THE RAIN | “I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did.”

OP Bingo 2023 (yes I know, don't look at me): Picnic

@opfluffzine Wheel of Fluff event: Kisses

No, I didn't read this after myself, yes, I'm even less prepared than usual this year xD I'm too busy lately 😭 Please bear with me for now and I'll see you next week 🤍 EDIT: I've read it over now, sorry about the weird typos arrvaerv

[ READ ON AO3 | CHAINS OF FATE | COMM INFO ]

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There wasn’t much Law wanted in life.

Peace and quiet. Knowledge. His crew’s safety. A dry and comfortable bed. A decent amount of sleep. It wasn’t that much to ask, in his humble opinion.

So then why, why in the world was he sitting out here on a soaking wet picnic blanket at five in the fucking morning, surrounded by laughing and singing and shouting people all around him? It was neither dry, nor comfortable, peaceful, quiet nor was he getting any sleep at all anytime soon, by the looks of it.

Hell, he couldn’t even attest for the safety of his crew; no one was dead, but the recent battle with the Blackbeard pirates had carried its toll. Everyone was injured and most of them shouldn’t be even moving around. Not that that had stopped those idiots from partying after reuniting with their ‘allies’.

Quotation marks because the alliance with the Straw Hats was over. It had been over for two weeks, as Law had reminded his crew countless times. And yet, both crews still stubbornly insisted on calling each other that.

All except Law himself, of course.

“Torao!!” 

Law closed his eyes momentarily, praying for patience as the biggest pain in his life approached him fast—his flip flops slapping in the mud soaked by the sudden downpour that had interrupted the party earlier, a giggle on his lips, and bringing the smell of meat and bonfire smoke and the sun with him.

How did he always manage to smell like the sun, even in the middle of the night, right after a rain, when they haven’t seen the celestial body in hours? Law had no idea.

“Torao~! Why are you just sitting here?” Straw Hat questioned once he skidded to a stop right behind Law, before immediately grabbing onto Law’s shoulders and leaning over to press an awkward, upside-down kiss to Law’s forehead.

Law huffed, raising an eyebrow at Luffy. “Better question, how do you still have the energy to be so loud?”

Law tried to sound annoyed but with the way his lips twitched and one of his hands immediately raised to touch Luffy’s own hand on his shoulder… he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

Either way, Luffy wasn’t phased. “It’s our first time on Elbaf!! Of course I’m excited, look how giant everything is! Even the meat is huge!”

“Of course you’d get excited about the meat,” Law teased.

“Not just the meat!”

“Of course,” Law placated, doing his best to sound as sincere as he could.

“Jerk,” Luffy shot back immediately, giving Law a pout. “I hate you.”

Law couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at that. “Glad to know my own soulmate hates me.”

“You can be my soulmate and a jerk,” Luffy announced, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

Law shook his head, trying not to show the smile that was pulling on his lips. Not for the first time, he had to wonder how the hell he had ended up with this absolute menace as his soulmate, and why the hell did he actually enjoy it.

It was ridiculous.

This entire… thing they had was ridiculous, just as anything that involved Straw Hat was ridiculous. Like him breaking the chain of a soulmark on Law’s arm with ease on Dressrosa, like invading Whole Cake Island, like beating Kaido, like bringing an entire fucking Buster Call on himself not two days after Law had left him unsupervised.

And yet, Law couldn’t bring himself to hate it—or to regret a single moment they’d spent together since running into each other on Punk Hazard.

That in itself was ridiculous.

But really, who was the ridiculous one here?

Did it even matter?

Without a word, Law grabbed Luffy’s hand still on his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the knuckles—scarred and rough and rubbery and oh-so warm… 

“Torao? Are you okay?”

No. No, he was not. 

He didn’t realise how scared, how tired, and how stressed he had been since the crew’s run-in with Blackbeard until Luffy was safely back by his side. Just hearing his voice, feeling his warmth, having his presence solid next to him was enough to have Law’s carefully constructed mask of I’m fine fall into pieces.

Law’s soulmark tingled when Luffy twisted his hand so that he could lace their fingers together, squeezing lightly.

That simple gesture was enough to ground Law.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he sighed finally. “Don’t worry.”

Luffy was silent for a moment but then he nodded and, a second later, his usual grin was back. He didn’t waste any time in joining Law on his gross, wet, cold blanket, pressing himself against Law’s side as he huddled close, with Law’s arm automatically wrapping around his shoulders. Before they settled into each other, Luffy pressed a quick peck to Law’s cheek, to which Law huffed. That just seemed to make Luffy laugh.

Sometimes, Law had to wonder what about his reactions was so damn funny.

For a while, they simply watched as the last few people from their crews who were still awake partied together and with their new and old giant friends. Honestly, Law wasn’t even surprised that the Straw Hats had somehow managed to pick up an befriend not one, not two, but five giants somewhere along the fucking way before Law even knew knew the crew. Although, admittedly, one of those five had Nico Robin in a sobbing mess on the floor the moment she saw him, much to her own crew’s confusion.

Law didn’t want to know what that was about. He had enough of his own childhood trauma to deal with, thank you very much. Robo-ya could deal with that particular issue.

As they sat in comfortable silence together, Law played with Lufffy’s hair absentmindedly; eventually, he went to kiss Luffy’s temple where he was resting his head against his shoulder… but as he turned to do just that, he suddenly realised how light the sky was getting on the eastern side of the island.

“You’ve got to be kidding…” he muttered, glaring at the first, slight tinges of orange.

Luffy only hummed questioningly, and Law could just imagine the cute, confused frown on his face.

“It’s dawn. It’s fucking dawn, Straw Hat-ya.”

“Oh! Nice!”

Law took a deep breath, his eye twitching. “I hate sunrises, Straw Hat-ya. Do you know why?”

“But they’re so pretty…” Luffy whined and Law took a deep breath.

“They’re pretty to you. To me, though, there are only three reasons I’d ever watch one. Insomnia, nightmares, or you keeping me up until ungodly hours in the morning doing stupid shit,” Law hissed, shooting Luffy an unimpressed look.

Straw Hat, however, completely ignored the very unsubtle jab. “I like the last option best.”

Clicking his tongue, Law shook his head. He refused to admit out loud that he felt the same way. Being forced to socialise until morning was much preferable to trying and failing to fall asleep in complete silence and darkness for hours on end.

But still…

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

Law clicked his tongue at Luffy’s all too amused snicker. Brat.

Finally, Law sighed. “It’s still weird though. This.” He gestured vaguely with the hand he had on Straw Hat’s shoulder. “You know, I never wanted a soulmate. I never wanted this fucking soulmark. And now I’m sitting here, as uncomfortable as can be. Because of you.”

“Hey!” Luffy cried. “I didn’t force you to sit on the soaked blanket when there was a nice bonfire going right here the whole time!”

“And who was the one who insisted on me not leaving when it started raining, holding my injured crew hostage?” Law asked, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Someone had to make sure no one fucking died.”

“Excuses.” Luffy waved his hand dismissively.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Law forced himself to stay calm. “What I’m trying to say”—he paused, mentally preparing himself—”is that it’s weird as hell. I never wanted a soulmate and yet I…”

He trailed off, suddenly out of words. What was he saying? Why was he saying this? Is it too late to back down?

“Yet you…?” Luffy prompted.

Yep. Definitely too late.

Fuck…

“I never meant to fall in love with you, I just… did. And I can’t figure out why.”

The silence that followed only served to drive the mortification Law was feeling in. He almost wished Luffy had laughed in his face instead of taking all this sweet time to process Law’s words.

It felt like hours before Luffy finally responded.

“I fell in love with you too. And it has nothing to do with the soulmate thing. I just love you. Don’t think so hard about stuff, Torao.”

Law cringed; having Luffy be the voice of reason always felt like a slap in the face—which was usually exactly what Law needed in the situations it happened.

“It’s your fault for keeping me up so late. I’m getting delirious.”

At that, Luffy burst out laughing; and, even though he was mostly laughing at him… Law couldn’t help but smile. Luffy’s joy was infectious, today and always. Brighter and more beautiful than any sunrise could ever dream to be.

Oh god, he really was sleep-deprived.

With one final huff, Law leaned in, pressing his lips against Luffy’s in that day’s first, proper kiss. Actually, wasn’t this their first kiss since they parted in Wano? Maybe.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Luffy’s lips stretched into a smile against Law’s mouth, his hands coming up to hold onto Law’s coat as he returned the kiss eagerly. Nothing else mattered at all.

Law may not have gotten any quiet, comfort, dryness, knowledge, or the least amount of sleep tonight—hell, even safety was questionable during this party despite there being no danger to them on Elbaf in theory. But, with Luffy and his crew within reach once more, Law really couldn’t say he was complaining.

Maybe, happiness was enough sometimes.

He would still not say no to a fucking bed though.

[tc-doherty]

Teeth and Fire

—@italiangothicwriteblr

@italiangothicwriteblr thank you!

Teeth: Share a snippet that was difficult for you to nail down/required a lot of revisions.

I can't really say this was difficult for me to nail down but Second Chances is a story that has existed in some form or other since, I believe, 2008? And the plot and world building have changed almost unrecognizably multiple times, but one thing that has always stayed the same is that Izare always rescued Mahesha from a river, so I have rewritten some version of this scene many times!

There was no movement from the child, not even a twitch. With as much as the water was moving, Izare couldn’t even tell if they were breathing. He took a deep breath and edged a little closer, then a little more, until he could reach the collar of the kid’s shirt. The wet fabric slipped and slid in his grasp, not at all like the wools and linens he was used to. Izare wedged himself into what he hoped was a sturdy group of roots, held the shirt as best he could, and pulled.

At first, nothing happened but Izare could be patient. Little by little he pulled the body towards himself until it was close enough that he could loop his arms under the child’s and around their back – a much more secure grip.

For most children it would have been hard, but Izare was big for his age and he was no stranger to hard work, nor to hauling weight. He pulled and kept pulling, stopping only when he had to move to find a new place to stand. Bit by bit he reclaimed the child from the river, dragged them far enough away to be on open ground, and rolled them onto their back.

It was a boy. A boy perhaps a little younger than he was, no more than seven at the most. If Izare was large for his age, this boy must surely be small for his. Everything about him looked delicate. His clothing was odd – what Izare had assumed was a shirt was more like a long jacket tied at the waist with a thick sash and decorated in tiny metal plates. The boy’s pants had a lot of excess fabric that now clung to two skinny legs. His skin and hair were darker than any Izare had ever seen.

He must have come from a long way away, to be so odd. Not that Izare had ever left his own little town. Even so, there were things that people just knew, and he knew that no one in this part of Numeria ever wore clothing like that.

Where the boy was from was less important than the fact that he was still breathing, barely, and soaked through. The day might be warm for early spring, but it wasn’t that warm, and his strange clothing didn’t look as if it provided much warmth even when it was dry. His skin felt like ice to the touch. This was a dangerous situation.

Fire: Share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off.

Although this draft is really old and not my finest writing, I love doing the dialogue in Laero because the main characters have 3 different mother tongues and that means I get to play around with grammar a lot. Also I just generally love Retta's conversations with people. She's such a fun character for me.

“Tch. I have seen your survival,” Retta said. “Is survival of mountains: always proud, always tall, always rigid. Marzjen are survivors too, survivors like sea.” She gestured to the window and its view of shifting water.

“Oh,” Geri said. She didn’t understand what Retta meant, but the captain seemed to know that.

Retta grinned and continued. “Once, I live an entire year with Summer Brigade, Nelli’s people, and Marzjen’s enemy. In that time I not sail. Dress as their own. Use their weapons and language. Not pray or make rituals. Would you say I am the Marzjen at that time?”

“Dai! No!” Geri said. “You betray your people and your god.”

“How?”

“You live with your enemy. You turn your back on this goddess. If you follow not your traditions and worship….” Geri trailed off. What am I then? I dress and fight like them. I haven’t spoken Wintertongue in weeks.

Retta ruffled her hair. ��Weapons not make the warrior, Geri. Action may not define what is in heart. I could have lived with the Brigade for rest of my life, and I would always be Marzjen.”

Geri watched a drip of red wax ooze down the side of the candle to the stained altar below. She didn’t speak until it had completed its journey. “Why tell me this?”

“Because no one tell you before, and you must hear it,” Retta said. “So you will not be so hard on the sister, when you see her.”

“Kradhi is traitor,” Geri said. Her voice wavered, thick with unshed tears. “All say that. I know it, too. Cowards run. Warriors run not.”

“No,” Retta shook her head and draped her arm around Geri’s shoulders. “Survivors run too, sometimes. Nelli can say more than me on that. She loves her people still, I know this thing. I think your sister is same.”

I'm playing this ask game!

[ardenssolis]

@nvrcmplt​ said (inbox):

He walks amongst them, padding with gentle bulk - head, turning and taking in the state of his new grounds of protection and claim of home. The smell of sands and wine, pristine walls and floors covered in nothing but flora of species he wasn't either knowledgeable upon but loved nonetheless. Wings healed enough to remain out of bandaged and ointments but too weak to fly with just yet held tight to his sides as he stepped down steps and waded through waters warmed by the sun itself, it almost felt like.

Humming in a low tune, his lashes flutter and bliss shudders throughout his being as he slows and sits upon hunches of lion and flutters his wings to clean feathers in a splashy display of falcon feathers blessed by sandy blondes and browns with whites. No longer did they bore the crimson from bloody gash nor broken bone...

Movement to his left had his lashes part with ease, staring upon the oddity of a creature's face blessed by Nut's reign, as it sparkled with stars and night, almost as if Kuk too reigned within the swirling unknown. But he needed little to understand what he was gazing upon - as they too bore the headdress of gold, paws and tail --- They were what he was, but more --- odd. Still, like most prides of his species, though rare they were, he chuffed only in polite tones and rose his wings to cover the smaller children of this place to cover them and tease with the wet rain drops from his feather tips.

This place, was a good place.

So it wasn't a surprise that after a soak, that the beast and his cubs were to be found outside their temple of healing, resting in the direct sunlight to dry all the way between their toes. To sleep with little fear or wariness of those that came to pray and see what a rarity Nebka was.

     NEBKA’S RECOVERY HAD COME along wonderfully, and for that, Ramses was pleased. There had been no words that were enough for the rage he had felt upon seeing the state of that great sphinx. However, if one were to look upon them now, it was clear that they were quite content. Leaning against one of the stone pillars of his palace, sunlight filtered through, its warmth partially touching his form as he watched from a distance. Their wing would require far more time before it fully healed, and even then, the healers had not been sure the distance that Nebka would be able to fly. Even so, that was far better than not being able to fly at all. Ramses could not think of any crueler fate for one born of the sky than to be completely and utterly grounded. ❝It was good that Zateros found you.❞ Thanks to her, the damage that had been done had a far better chance of being wiped away; both on Nebka’s psyche and on his body. Lips curled into a smile, his gaze shifting away to rest upon that distant horizon. Ah, what his father have said upon seeing Egypt now, he wondered?

     Would he have been in awe to have been able to see a sphinx with his own two eyes? To be able to stand in the presence of such a being when they were so elusive in this vast country? ❝I will make Egypt greater,❞ he said to none in particular save for the sun itself, determination flashing, for a moment, within bright gold. He was already on the path towards greatness, wasn’t he? Surely even the gods were pleased to bear witness to the path he had continued to treat, right? The Divine were quite quick to make their displeasure known, yet he could not recall a time that any had appeared before him with words of warning. If anything, their praise had been enough to elevate his confidence, what unease he might have felt a long time ago upon being given this heavy burden of ruling, now like a distant memory – a child’s unease and fears. Not that of a proud pharaoh. Not that of a child of Ra like himself. ❝Continue to be at peace with the young ones, Nebka.❞ They need not worry about anything.

     He would have his Golden Age.

[bored-storyteller]

34 for Kaeya please? 🥺

Hi Anon!

Ahem, when it comes to Kaeya, I always get a little excited. And I am also afraid because I am always in doubt if all this in the future will prove to be extremely OOC, but I cannot know this yet.

(Anyway, it's angst/comfort, but if you just want angst and just angst then you can stop before "...")

Hope you like it anyway!

66- Genshin Impact, Kaeya Alberich x Reader

From the prompt list

34- “Will you miss me at all?”

"I give you my heart completely, it is yours, I give it to you." The Captain of the Knights of Favonius had whimpered as he comically clung to the half-empty mug.

You smiled with a slight sigh: "Your heart is mine as it is owned by all of Mondstadt."

His pleading face had turned into an offended pout as he threw the remaining alcohol down his throat.

"Hey, my heart isn't that cheap!" He had almost scolded you as he slammed his empty glass on the wooden table.

You don't know what you'd give to hear those stupid flirtations of him right now. Those sweet and mean jokes that sometimes flattered you, sometimes made you laugh, and still others hurt you.

You don't know what you'd give to run to the tavern to share a drink with him, to hear him laugh, to get mad at him or to be able to feel the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.

But all you feel is the wet cold that threatens rain, a bitter and hateful cold, a miserable and dead cold that you would have gladly exchanged to curl up in the dry and majestic chill of ice.

"Kaeya ..." His name escapes your lips like a faint prayer as you look at his one visible closed eye "Kaeya, don't sleep ... who's the lazy one, huh?"

You swallow as your fingers brush his blood-soaked hair. You caress his cold cheeks, you cuddle his head as it rests in your lap. "Everything will be fine ..." you whisper to him "everything will be fine ..." you try to convince yourself.

A rumble too close makes you scream. Your arms instinctively pick up the knight's helpless body and your body bends over him to protect him.

What is happening? You don't even remember, you don't even know, probably.

"Kaeya don't sleep ..." You repeat again, holding on to every faint breath of him.

"Hey…"

For a moment you don't even distinguish that that's his voice, for a moment you think you've just imagined it, that you've mistaken a breath of wind for the sound of him.

But weak and frail, Kaeya calls you back to him.

You call him too, a new hope is born in your gaze, now that you can admire his iris periwinkle of him.

Your voice trembles, like your hands, and your lungs. It hurts you to breathe as long as you need to cry, but you resist and instead you go back to caressing him slowly, trying to give him relief, affection, whatever you can give him in that moment - all your heart.

"Kaeya, hold on, you'll be fine." Try to put all the conviction you can into it "You were great."

On his tired and dirty face you can still see the ghost of that smile so familiar to you, yet in him there is a sadness that you do not know how to erase.

Your fingers intertwine with his blue locks, which loose and wild now rest on him, and on you.

"Always so kind ..." His murmur is sweet, yet it burns like a hot iron. What is his personality is drowned in melancholy and fear.

You would like to tell him that you are not kind, you have never been, but his face leaning towards you in search of your warmth silences you. Why does everything, from his smile, to his breath, to his blinking, smell of latest deeds?

"I think ... it's selfish to ask you ..." he gently calls all your attention "but ... will you miss me at all?"

You had prayed until then that he would not speak, not hint at that dark prospect. Because you know that at this point you can no longer breathe, the tears that blurred your vision can no longer be held back, and your throat hurts so much as you try not to sob.

How could you ever imagine getting up tomorrow knowing that Kaeya is gone? How could you tackle the streets of Mondstadt remembering his footsteps, his voice behind the walls, and his smiles peeking out from around the corner? How could you have tolerated the scent of Death after Noon anymore? How could you ever face Teyvat, the whole world, who would have moved on without him?

"Yes ... it's selfish ..." your murmur is so broken that you hardly understand it yourself, and you clear your throat, forcing yourself to be firm in your words "You said it's mine ... isn't it?"

Your hand slides across his chest, still warm under your cold numb fingers.

Under his skin you can feel the faint pulsing movement, like a little bird moving under your palm. And you pray with all of yourself, so that this little bird doesn't stop flying.

“You gave it to me… right? Here inside of you ... here is my heart. You can't be so selfish as to take it away from me, right? Sure ... sure I will miss my heart ... "Your every word turns into prayer, supplication, to the Archons, to heaven, to whatever can save him.

Your eyes can't see his expression, not now that your face is hidden in his hair and tears run down your cheeks without giving you peace.

Your fingers grip his clothes as if they could hold him there one last time, before he is pushed away from you and arms of fire envelop you.

"I'll miss you…"

. . .

Kaeya listened to every beat of his heart. Even in the dark, all he cared about was feeling that constant movement inside his body.

"So good." he thought every time the muscle twitched "keep it up, like a good guy."

Even when his pupils began to perceive reddish hues behind his eyelids and distant voices began to reach his ears, Kaeya never stopped worrying about that heartbeat that had suddenly become like this. precious.

The object that is pushed into his throat is so bitter that he would like to spit it out without restraint, but with a big sip of water he forces it to fall into his stomach. Anything to help that heart to beat stronger and more vigorous again.

"Kaeya ..." Your weak voice reaches him, and his only eye that can see crosses you.

"Hey ..." He greets you with a smile, one of his.

He doesn't think you've ever seen him in bed, covered in bandages as he is now. It is already a lot if he can sit in that semi-sitting position, leaning against the pillow on the headboard of the bed.

"You have finally arrived." He barely laughs as you shyly approach his bedside. You still look shaken, you look tired, you look like a frightened fawn.

"They wouldn't let me come ..." guilty whispers "they thought ... they thought it was better that I didn't see ..."

You don't continue the sentence, but he knows it. He had foreseen that ending, not that he was happy about it, but he had thought that dying in your arms wasn't such a bad ending, at least until he met your pain.

"Ah ... I had a bad time huh?" He laughs, but you don't. He's back to himself, or he never stopped being, but the sight of him so miserable can't hearten you, it's as if you still fear for him.

"... You really would have missed me." The realization he exhibits is not playful. It is quiet, but serious and light, as if he hadn't really believed it up until that moment.

Your shoulders shake again, under the weight of the anguish you have endured, under the pressure you never gave in. Because while you waited you never cried, nor bowed your head, it was not your right to do so.

But now that he's okay, you can cry over his wounds and you can throw all the fear out of yourself.

"Oh ... what a bad knight I am, I made you cry again ..." he murmurs, but there is no real guilt in his voice, but a tender affection for you "come here, let me make me forgive."

His arm gently pulls you towards him, letting you rest against his chest.

"Listen" he murmurs as he rests his cheek on your head "I protected your heart like you asked me, I was good, right?"

He wouldn't need to take on other responsibilities, he already has a lot of them, more than you think, yet he can't help but take care of you. He loves you so much that he is even willing to live if that makes you happy.

"You've been good."

[biznichwrites]

Giyuu Kinktober 2020, Day 13: A/B/O, Scent, Knotting

Sweet. 

The scent of his maid had never seemed exactly prominent before. In fact he had mistaken it for just simply the scent of his home after some time, given she went through the rooms to clean. Even on his bedding as she practically had to hug it to herself to hang it to dry. 

It wasn't until she had fallen ill that he noticed a difference. The scent of his home became less inviting, rather overtaken with the distinct smell of wood and polish. He should have expected as much but the pleasant sweetness had grown on him subconsciously. 

When she returned he wasn't sure if her scent had changed, but he knew he savored it more. Subconsciously he inhaled deeper when she walked by, buried his face in the bedding she had just washed. 

He heard omegas had a particularly alluring scent, but as a beta he was never quite as blessed as alphas were on actually noticing it. While he never asked, he was fairly certain she was an omega. Perhaps that's why she had been gone the week before, maybe she had her heat. 

A sour feeling filled his stomach. Even if it wasn't his business he didn't quite like the idea of someone sweating over her and altering her scent. He had grown fond of having her around. In the case she had been mated to someone there would come a day she wouldn't return. 

As one of the few people he liked being around, he had to put effort into this - to make this more than a boss and maid situation. 

______________________

"Sir?" Her voice had him perking up, head turning until their eyes met. "I hate to ask but I'm not feeling well. Can I go home a bit early?" 

In reality she hated to admit it, but she had run low on her medication and forgot until the last minute. Days passing by so monotonously was a blessing at first, but made her forget to take her medicine or restock her supplies. Hopefully she could dash into town in time, least her heat hit her. 

"Yes. Do you need help?" The downside of having a home up the mountain was the trek up and down. He may be cold at times, but not as cold as to allow her to possibly fall down the stone steps. 

"I-" Her mind raced, stopping her from answering with a simple no. With her heat crawling closer she could use someone trustworthy to have her back. It would be embarrassing, but she would rather feel a fool than be taken advantage of. Besides, he was the strongest person she knew, even if he was a beta. 

"Yes, if it isn't too much trouble." 

What should have been a simple trip down the path to the main road that would take her to town turned into a personal curse. Her skin turned a flushed tone, a cold sweat forming at her hairline. However what Giyuu noticed the most was her scent. 

Sweet. Almost sickeningly sweet. In an addictive way - a way that lingered in his nose and on his tongue.

All he knew was he agreed to accompany her to pick up some medicine and go home. Simple enough, really. He just didn't understand why his chest felt so tight. 

Her pace was inherently slower than his but he had expected that to be the case. What he hadn't expected was for her to stop in the path and remain unmoving. 

"What's wrong?" Every passing moment she didn't move was time wasted, he didn't understand the logic of stopping. Ahead of her on the path he turned around to face her only to be hit by her scent before his eyes settled in her form. 

"I-I…" She was so embarrassed, feeling her slick begin to form. He would fire her for sure for making a fool of herself in front of him. 

Subconsciously Giyuu took deeper breaths, soaking in the sweetness that filled the air. It was obvious, she couldn't deny it. 

"I'm in heat." She felt so hopeless, absolutely devastated as her legs pressed together, as if it'd do anything to help her situation. 

At the admission Giyuu felt his cock throb, coming to life in a way he hadn't felt before. He had known omegas went into heat, but he had never actually been so close to one. His jaw ached, canines throbbing. 

What was going on? This isn't beta behavior. 

Either way he knew they couldn't linger, nor could she go into town in this condition. 

"We have to go back." It was a firm statement on his part but she nodded. She had come to terms with her situation and prayed to keep a level head through her heat. 

He scooped her into his arms, not willing to wait for her to hobble up the path back to his estate. 

_______________________

He regretted never learning more about omegas, more in this moment than ever before. His poor maid was whimpering, tears filling her eyes as she shared her woes about the temperature being both too hot and too cold. 

He really couldn't focus, not when the sweet scent she carried turned into a craving. Even bundled in blankets to sooth her she felt lonely, looking at him from her place on the futon with a pitiful frown and glassy eyes. 

"Tomioka?" Despite his mind's haze, he glanced at her form, wloor what he could make out under the layers of cloth. 

"Giyuu." He wasn't sure why he was having her call him his given name, but it felt right. 

"Giyuu… Can you… Stay with me?" Even if she felt mindlessly horny, she knew he'd keep her safe. Before her heat she wanted a moment of peace and comfort. 

Idly he nodded sitting next to the futon. The omega didn't mind her manners, not when she was so needy, and parted the blankets to pull him in.

He sat stiff, unsure if she was going to fall into a full heat and mate with him. However he found her cuddled to his side, nuzzling into his neck to cover herself in his scent. 

Where he expected frantic disrobing and touches, he found her breathing evening out until she fell asleep. 

Even if the odd feeling in him swirled, he found it relaxing enough to fall asleep as well. 

_______________________

"Hot… Too hot." Giyuu rubbed his eyes, finding himself warm as well, though mostly due to the multiple layers covering him between his clothing and blankets. 

Glancing to the side he found his maid shrugging off her yukata and panting, face drenched in sweat and hair damp. 

Even if it was just her back he found himself harder than he had ever been in his life. Cock throbbing, he felt himself salivating as he felt the canines within his mouth become more prominent. 

There was no way he was a beta. They had made a mistake, a beta doesn't react like this to the scent of an omega in heat. 

He wouldn't be a mindless alpha like he heard others complain about. Even if he felt an overwhelming urge to be inside the omega in front of him, he held himself back. 

She turned towards him, chest exposed. It took everything within him to close his eyes and keep his hands at his sides. But the almost silent huff of frustration was enough to let her know he was awake. 

"Are you warm, too?" at her question he simply nodded, only feeling his eyes snap open feeling her touch. "You're wearing a lot."

Just feeling her unbutton his shirt sent a jolt down his spine. She was willing, she really wanted him. His fingers twisted in the sheets and blankets as she pushed the collar of his clothing away to nuzzle into his bare neck. 

"Please, Giyuu."

_____________________

Hips slapped together with a wet noise, undoubtedly from the slick that poured from her.

"Giyuu- please!" Using what little control she had below him she bucked her hips into his. 

"Hm?" He acted dumb but he knew better. For the last few rounds she had begged for his knot, whimpering for him to breed her properly. 

"Please! Knot me. I need it." such sweet begging, how could he deny her? Especially when her eyes turned glassy before tears fell down her cheeks. Her head tilted to the side, baring her neck to him. A soft, vulnerable "please" echoed from her lips. 

Despite having her legs over his shoulders he leaned down, folding her in half as he locked the sweat from her neck. Just that little had her clenching around his length and he was left to wonder how it would feel around his knot. 

His hands held her in place as he snapped his hips into hers, sheathing his knot into her heat. Erotic moans filled the room but he couldn't let the moment slip by. 

Teeth bore into her neck, biting down on the sweat slicked flesh until her flesh gave way. Despite the pain she clung to him, singing moans of his name as her heat spasmed around his cock, milking it as she climaxed dramatically. 

A groan echoed in his chest as he came undone, head of his length pressed to her depths and filling her with his seed. 

After the waves of his orgasm faded his teeth retracted, becoming normal again. For the moment they were still connected so he took to licking her neck clean of any traces of blood. It wasn't his favorite taste but instinct drove him. 

"Giyuu?" Her voice sounded tired, likely from all the noises she had made that night. 

"Yes?" He moved to hover over her, making sure she was okay despite his embarrassment. The guilt he would carry for hurting her would haunt him. 

"Thank you." Despite her tiredness, she smiled up at him, soft and sleepy. Her arms then tugged him down to lay on her after letting her legs off his shoulders. Subconsciously she nuzzled him, mixing their scents together as if it were possible to do so even more than they already had. 

He could get used to this. 

[abrushwithdeath]

@lediableblanc-amoureuxdechats

send “…didn’t know where else to go…”for your muse to show up at my muses doorstep one night during a thunderstorm, shivering, bleeding & soaking wet.

She felt restless tonight. More so than usual. Tapping fingers against the back cover of a book. Green eyes distracted by every shifting shadow. Why was she so on edge? Nothing had happened. Nothing was happening.  Maybe that was it. It had been too quiet the last few days, and, in her experience, nothing good came of that. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Though she hoped she could temper the anxious energy with a cup of hot tea. Or hot chocolate, maybe? Something, anything, to warm her up from the inside out. Soothe the nerves and all that. (A part of her wanted a nice cup of coffee just for the bitterness, but at nearly half past 1 in the morning that seemed a fool’s choice- she was trying to calm herself, not wake herself up even more.)

So tea it was (though, when the chamomile hit her tongue, she was kind of regretting not going the more childish route of hot cocoa). The quiet seclusion of the kitchen was surprisingly nice, and though she wouldn’t say that she was calmed just yet, she felt a little more at peace just from the practiced motions of filling her mug with steaming water and watching the bloom of steeping tea as her fingers curled around the handle. The intent was to take it back up to her room, to settle back in with her book and try to void out the nagging sensation that something bad was about to happen.  But she, nor the mug of tea, made it any further than the entryway. Because there was a crack of lightning, and the deep sound of thunder... and Remy LeBeau, standing- no, leaning- in the open doorway. Her fingers faltered and the mug fell to floor, shattered against the marbled tile, “Remy!” She hadn’t seen him in days, maybe a week by now? And the unsettling feeling she’d carried with her before returned tenfold at the sight of him here now.  She ran towards him, caught him as he stumbled forward. She could smell the sharp scent of blood, and prayed to god it wasn’t his, “Come on. Come on, sugar, I got ya.” She assured him, letting him lean against her as she helped him inside. With her free hand, she closed the door behind him. “...didn’t know where else to go...”  “A hospital, maybe?” Ah, but she didn’t mean that. The words, the sarcasm, were mostly involuntary. A coping mechanism to offset the fear she was feeling. She quickly corrected herself, though, “It’s fine. Ya know you’re always welcome here. I just wish it was under better circumstances.” She helped him to a chair nearby, let him sit down, sink into it, “Who’d ya piss off this time?” She questioned him with a hint of jest as careful fingers helping him strip off his wet jacket. The article of clothing was tossed carelessly to the side and only now was she able to get an idea of how hurt he just might be, the blood seeping through his shirt, “How bad’s it?” Another question, one she’d soon find out the answer to; but she couldn’t help but ask it, anyway.  There was a single moment of hesitation, and then she carefully, trying not to touch him, helped him slip his shirt off so she could get a better look at his injuries, “They really did a number on ya, didn’t they?” She murmured. Because she couldn’t trace the wounds with her bare fingers, she followed them with her eyes, instead. Taking in the extent of the wounds. Planning how best to clean them, bandage them. Was he gonna need stitches? “I’ll get ya a towel to dry off. And somethin’ t’patch ya up with. A’right? Jus’... stay put.” That last part was a command, and she even pointed a finger at him as she said it. After all, he should stay seated, not push himself any harder. There was no need to follow her when she could bring everything she needed to him. 

[itssuppertim3]

Share (Miraak x Remeir)

A sweet n' fluffy OC one shot for you, if I may

It was cold. And rainy. And wet.

Remeir and Miraak stood and observed the downpour, both pondering over their little predicament. In the spur of the storm, the two dragonborn took off towards the closest shelter they could find and luckily came upon an abandoned cave.

Miraak shook his head in dismay and grumbled an assortment of dovah curses. Remeir mustered a sigh before using a small flame spell to guide her way into the mouth of the cave. "This is just dreadful," Miraak muttered. "Dreadful, I say."

"Just get in here and help me start a fire before we both catch a cold," the redhead called back. Both of them were squatted down, a shivering mess. There were a few dried and burnable materials in her bag, such as paper, books she held no current interest in, and even unnecessary ingredients. The fire she managed to craft was a small one, yet durable. Luckily, her ebony armor deflected any rain from touching her clothes underneath. Her tall, atmoran companion was not so fortunate.

Miraak's robes were drenched and the worn fabric stuck to his skin like tree sap. She definitely didn't blame him for being as vexed as he was. "Don't glare at me with such remorse, Dragonborn," the man finally sighed. The quirky elf blew out a chuckle before rising to her feet. "I can dry your robes for you, if you want. I imagine it's not very comfy," she offered. Miraak inspected her extended hand and glanced at his outfit. "As long as you do not catch them on fire. I'm not in the mood for running around this land like a half-nude peasant." As serious and nonchalant as he was, Remeir bent over in a spew of laughter. "Oh, gods! How can someone as cold as you be so funny?! I could-- I could just picture you walking around like a damned caveman!" He clearly wasn't amused by the display in front of him.

In silent disgust, Miraak peeled off his top and threw it at his savior's face. "It's humiliating to be reminded that you were able to defeat me," he hissed. Still, she continued to chortle like an infant. Remeir was well-past her years of embarrassment. Over time, she gradually learned to ignore the opinions of others and lived the carefree life she always desired. That being said, most were so intimidated by her flamboyant personality that she was often avoided. She never failed to be amazed how Miraak had remained by her side for this long, now. Mara only knew almost every second with her had to be excruciating for him.

When the dunmer finally composed herself, she draped Miraak's robes above the fire and let the heat do its work. When she turned to face him, she had forgotten that his upper body was now completely and utterly bare. Saying that Remeir was unprepared for the sight in front of her was a massive understatement. As long as this woman had been breathing, she was more inexperienced with men than a fly was with a house! Besides the heavenly sound of his voice, she colored Miraak to have the body of one of the grey beards. That being said, she never failed to catch notice of the way his biceps swelled when lifting something heavy or how broad his shoulders grew when throwing his gear over his back. She knew he had a burly musculature. But this, this was something else entirely. Was that an eight-pack?!!

"Quit staring, you star-eyed oaf!" She switched back to reality when Miraak attempted to cover his front with his arms like an exposed woman. "My bad. Just trying to figure who the lucky lady you're trying to impress is," Rem stated bluntly before plopping down beside him. "Or~," she purred. "Could it be a seeker?" Miraak used his hand to push her face away. "You are outrageous," he grumbled. "Immature, little brat." Remeir ignored him and slid out her bedroll from her knapsack. As she started to unfold it, she glanced her companion's bag. "Is your stuff alright? It looks soaked."

"That's because it is. I cannot understand how I am the unlucky one in this situation. Other than those silly braids of yours, you along with all of your things are completely dry," he noted, fishing through his belongings. "Maybe it's because Lady Mara shines on my every step," she cooed. "Well, your Lady would sure be kind to shine a bit of light in my direction, as well." Sure enough, he retrieved a damp bedroll. "Oh, dear," she voiced. "Oh dear, indeed..." Miraak released a groan of annoyance and welcomed it on the cold floor. "Would you... like to share mine?"

A brief, uncertain silence was exchanged between the two. With Remeir's cheeks becoming the same pigment as her red strands, she started to frantic. "I-I mean, you probably won't like it since it'll be a tight squeeze. But it's better than sleeping on hard rock, right?" she clipped. Miraak took a moment to think it over. "Alright."

That night, Remeir was overwhelmed with all types of emotions. The soft glow of the campfire was able to ease her mind a tad, but viewing the large silhouette of Miraak's shadow flicker against the cave wall, it didn't do much help. She couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't that she was afraid of him. His entire aura was just so overpowering to her. It was like sleeping next to a docile bear. The young elf stiffened after feeling his back press further into hers as he slept. He seemed awfully comfortable for someone who despised being even remotely close to another person.

He was so warm. She was surprised he produced so much body heat, which was the contrary to his icy persona. In all honesty, Remeir often admitted to herself that he was quite cute. He was strong, of course he was. He made made that clear whenever he was able, no matter the time nor place. But he was just so adorable! As her brain rambled on, Remeir neglected to notice him reposition himself on his other side to where his chest was firm against her back. She let out a tiny squeak in response. No longer was this man "adorable", he was flatout terrifying! "Miraak," she sounded. He was too deep in his slumber to reply.

When she attempted to wriggle some space between then, her actions were shot down upon feeling the sensation of Miraak's arms curling around the small of her form. Remeir's sanity was now dangling by a thread. He was so incredibly close to her in this moment, if his mask wasn't working as a barrier, he'd be kissing her neck! She nudged and squirmed and continued to make little attempts of stirring him from his unconscious oasis, but alas she ended up in failure each time.

"Zu'u los hin..."

The scrambled woman's breath had caught in her throat. She wasn't exceedingly fluent in Dovahzul like Miraak, but she was able to catch only his sleep-slurred words. "I am yours," he had said. What was that supposed to mean?? Rem prayed to every Aedra and Daedra that he wasn't dreaming of anything suggestive while holding her in such a way. Other than his odd choice of words and affectionate touch, he showed no signs of having any explicit intent.

Over the minutes, Remeir gradually released any pent-up tension she held and let herself become engulfed by the larger figure behind her. Miraak's legs softly entangled with her own and her heartbeat fell into the same rhythm as his. It was strange. She'd forgotten how safe it felt to be coddled by another person. She knew it wouldn't last, though she wished it would. Once he found out what he was doing, it would be the last time she would ever be caressed by him. That much upset her.

But little did the Last Dragonborn know, Miraak was awake the entire time.

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

God I literally love those two too much

[melismaticmadness]

RAIN

Hi..so this is my first ever fanfic/imagine/story thing. (I am not quite sure what this is..) This is just fiction and no part of it is real, nor am I claiming to know anyone I write about. 

Description: Fluff and Friendship - You plan to surprise Owen in Vancouver while he’s filming JATP. Charlie helped you organize it, but something goes wrong in your plan. What happens in the rain?

2400 words

Warnings: Language, Talks of Anxiety/Mental Health

Owen Joyner x Reader

***********************************

RAIN 

November rain in Vancouver wasn’t exactly pleasant but as I stood outside hitting the call button for his apartment building for the fifteenth time, I was far past annoyed. Soaked and annoyed. How could this surprise get so messed up that I am standing here at 3:32 am?Charlie and I had planned my surprise Thanksgiving visit perfectly. I would take a red-eye flight, get into the apartment, sleep for a few hours while Owen was still on set with BooBoo, and then we’d have a day together and the Thanksgiving party later tonight. Charlie won’t wake up to answer the call button and let me in!!

I have been out here for 30 minutes already when someone taps me on the shoulder from behind.

“Excuse me, sorry, but do you need help?”

I turn around and the tall, sleepy boy in front of me with a hoodie pulled tight over his hair is shocked.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Well, I could say the same about you! Charlie said you were shooting until at least 6 am!!”

“I’m so good that we wrapped early, and got what we needed. I am still so confused as to how you got here…” He said with a fake hair toss.

“Owen, we’ve talked about this. Airplanes work for everyone, you’re not special.”

“No no, butthead. I mean standing outside my apartment building - in Vancouver - in the rain.”

I went on hurriedly about how I was here to surprise him for Thanksgiving, but the surprise is ruined because Charlie never woke up to buzz me into the building. My anxiety over his reaction was at an all-time high because my plan was derailed and he was here early, and I was drenched, but Owen could see it on my face, and before I could even finish explaining I was wrapped in a hug.

“Let’s get your soggy ass inside,” he said as he entered his pin and the doors unlocked. With his hands on my shoulders pushing me ahead of him, we went to the stairwell and up to his floor. We laughed as my wet shoes squeaked down the hall and into the apartment. I was immediately ordered into the bathroom to strip and shower.

“Hey, you can’t make me strip. I charge for that nowadays.”

“Yeah and I charge for taking in homeless, wet girls off the street, but you don’t see me asking for a check.”

After I punch him in the arm and run off to the bathroom, I can’t help but smile. We’ve been apart for so long, but it feels like nothing has changed. I was so worried that he wouldn’t be happy to see me, or that he would be annoyed that I showed up and messed up any plans he had, or god forbid if he came home with a girl and I was there.

Still, as I got into the warm shower most of my anxieties washed away (besides the ‘bringing a girl home one’). About five minutes into my hot shower, I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Yes?” I whisper-yelled out.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh..sure”

“I just wanted to bring you a set of dry stuff to wear, I’ll put it on the toilet for you.”

“Thanks, O.” I peeked my head out behind the black shower curtain and saw him standing with his back to the shower placing the clothes and towel down. I could pull him into the shower by the back of his shirt from here if I wanted to, but I am not ballsy enough to do that. He thinks of me as one of the boys, and I doubt that line will ever get crossed. The boys would mess with him in this situation though.

I filled a hand up with water and sprinkled it down his neck and back. Hearing Owen gasp when he felt water all over him was hysterical, especially because he would not turn around to look at me.

“You are SO lucky you are in the shower or I would get your ass back sooooooooo good.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get the hell out of here,” I said splashing him again, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

He hurried out and I finished as fast as possible because now I was a little worried he would hand my bras from his balcony or something…

One last look in the mirror as I squeezed my hair out and I smelled like Owen. His soap, shampoo, towels...I wish I could always smell this. Stupid TV shows shooting in foreign countries….

Back in the living room, I found Owen asleep on the couch. Knowing him, he probably did not sleep at all yesterday like he was supposed to for the night shoot.

“Yo, blondie...Owen..go to bed”

“What’s wrong?! Oh, no I’m awake what...what do you wanna do?”

“I want you to go to bed. We can hang out after you sleep for a few hours.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll probably try to sleep a little too. The guy next to me on my last flight was a snorer.”

“Come to bed with me”

“Wh-what? O, it’s ok I am totally ok on the couch.”

“No, no. You’re coming. Let’s go, y/n. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want”

I couldn’t even protest more because I was being wrapped in a blanket with Owen and we were walking to his room. Look, we had had sleepovers before as kids, but the last time we did this we were thirteen, in his childhood room, with two sleeping bags on the floor. He was always working, and I was always in school, so most of the time when he was home I had to go home at night for school the next day.

How do you have a platonic sleepover with your best friend who you are also in love with? Do I just roll over the opposite way and pray that we don’t wake up with me holding onto him?

His bed was made and it smelled like he had just washed his sheets before work. He led me to one side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and simply said, “Get in.” He shuffled over to his side of the bed and did the same.

“G’night.”

“Goodnight. Hey, do you have to be up for work or anything? I can set an alarm.”

“Nope, I’m off all day because of the night shoot.”

“Okay, goodnight y/n”

With that last “goodnight”, I felt him get closer to me. My heart was beating so fast I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out or throw up and nothing was even happening!! Owen reached over to the other side of me and pulled me close.

“It looked like you were shivering. I should've told you to dry your hair before bed.”

“I’m okay,” I said pushing his hair out of his face, so I could see him.

“Okay.”

Arms tangled over each other, we both fell asleep.

***********************************

Hours later the rain got worse. Through the open window, I could hear the thunder was really loud and I happened to open my eyes as lightning lit up the sky. Fun fact about me. I hate lightning and am terrified of it. Being in a highrise apartment building with lots of windows, was a nightmare for me. I curled up in fetal position under the blankets and pulled them all the way up over my head.

I felt Owen moving around next to me and just assumed he was rolling over, but I felt him grab me by the waist. We were now face-to-face, chest to chest, completely under his sheets.

“Fancy meeting you under here.” His morning breath could’ve killed me, and not because it smelled. I didn’t think I could be attracted to him and his voice more than I already was.

“Sorry for waking you. The storm.”

“I know. As soon as I heard it, I knew. You’re safe. It’s loud because it’s passing over us and will be gone in a few minutes.”

The next roll of thunder shook the room a little and a single little tear escaped and I tried to hide it by moving my hair and pretending to fix the blanket over my head but he caught me.

“..hey I’m right here. Do you want to go sit in the bathroom? There are no windows.”

“I’m fine, sorry,” I said and took a deep breath.

“How can I help you right now?”

“I’m sorry. My anxiety went off the rails when my surprise got ruined earlier and I don’t know how to sleep in bed with a boy, and on top of that the worst storm is happening,” I sputtered.

Owen laughed a soft little laugh and pulled me closer.

“You’re just sleeping next to me... I’m not just a boy... we’re not strangers, hell I just walked in on you in the shower earlier...wait... god, did I make you uncomfortable?” He made some space between us and laid his head on his hands while looking at me.

“Oh god, Owen no. No.” I grabbed his hands back and put them under my face pulling him back towards me. I hadn’t noticed until now that he lost his shirt somewhere in the night. “You just know how I get, all up in my head about every little thing.” The butterflies in my stomach felt more like fireworks exploding in an almost painful display under these sheets.

“Well, what is your head saying right now? Let’s talk through it.”

A shaky breath escaped my mouth. I can’t tell him I've loved him since our days of sleeping bags on his bedroom floor. So, I pivot.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be happy to see me and that I was imposing by just showing up here…”

“You know I always am so happy to see you. I wish I could see you every day, we talk every day. You being here is so much better than a few texts and a missed facetime call while I’m at work.”

“Okay.. I love- I mean...I like being here too. I can’t make fun of you if you don’t answer my texts.” We both laughed a little this time.

“Sounds like the lightning stopped. Wanna go watch the sunrise? It should be up any minute.”

“We should get out from under the covers first...”

“Right.”

Pulling the covers down gave me the fresh air I needed to think clearly. I did not need to tell him how I felt. These moments were enough.

“Good morning, y/n.”

“Good morning, O.”

“Grab a towel before we head out to wipe the chairs down.”

“Yes ma’am,” Owen salutes and runs out of the room.

***********************************

Nothing is better than watching the sunshine hit this smiling boy’s blonde locks and pink cheeks first thing in the morning. Sitting on the same plastic lounge chair, I wanted to pinch myself.

“We slept for like three hours,” I laughed.

“We can nap again before the Thanksgiving party tonight. I’m not that tired.”

“Want me to order coffee? I’ll run and get it, I saw a Starbucks next door.”

“Nah, I put some on when I went for the towel.”

“Smart man. I’m gonna grab some water then.”

“I’ll get it. I added lemon to our pitcher in the fridge for you, when I went for the towel too.”

“Joyner, you do think of everything.”

“I did remember you don’t drink coffee, give me some credit!” He said as he ducked off the balcony.

I stood up to lean over the railing and before I knew it Owen was over my shoulder with a glass of water and his coffee. The rain was picking up again. I took a sip and put it down on the little outdoor table they kept out there and continued to stare out at the city as it woke up.

Owen hugged me from behind and I leaned into him as an instinct. I realized I was probably making him uncomfortable and went to slide over to give him space, but he stopped me.

“Y/n, can you stand still? Your head is blocking my view.”

“My head?! I am like a foot shorter than you!”

“Yes, the back of your head is blocking my view.”

“What can you possibly be looking at? The rain?! Look there’s a bus! Trying to stalk people as they walk their dogs?” I rambled as I turned around to see where his eyes were pointed.

At that moment, he grabbed my neck, and the next thing I knew his lips were on mine. I think my heart stopped. I stood there like a limp noodle for a solid 3 seconds before I pulled away. The expression on his face was one of being mortified.

“Oh god...Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh, fuck!” He said and started running his hands through his hair and pacing away from me. “I thought..oh god.. It doesn’t matter what I thought because I was out of line..”

I grabbed his arm as he turned away from me again.

“Do it again.”

“..wh-what?”

“Owen, can we try it again?”

“Y/n, I don’t want you to think you have to kiss me because I kissed you. It’s ok. I’m so sorry.”

I walked over to him, put my hands on his bare chest, and kissed him.

“I have wanted to do that since we were thirteen.”

“You-huh?”

“I have wanted to kiss you since we were thirteen, probably before. I just was scared. Our friendship is so special to me, I couldn’t imagine losing it. Then when you were spending more and more time in L.A. and then coming here to Vancouver, I thought you probably had met someone already and were just keeping it quiet.”

“I haven’t met anyone,” he stammered. “I thought I lost my chance with you for good when I moved out here, but I never was into anyone else.”

“Now what?”

“Can I kiss you again?” We both laughed and as we collided it’s almost as if rain was waiting on its cue from us. It stopped.

I wonder what is in store for us now.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Treasure hunt

Pairing: dragon!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, death of minor characters, minor depiction of violence.

Words: 2133.

Summary: No knight would dare to save a sacrificial bride of the dragon.

______________

When he lowered your body into a little pond, a cloud of blood dissolved into the water. You whined, looking at your wounded legs. They stopped bleeding when you were in the air riding on the flying dragon's back, but it still hurt too much for you to walk across the cave on your own. You felt the man leaving a gentle kiss on the top of your head while you sobbed.

"You will be alright, my darling." He cooed in your ear in a soft voice and let the water cover half of your body, soaking your long white nightgown smeared with blood. 

You shivered but stayed where you were. You were thinking of his eyes dark as the twilight sky when he came closer to you, tied to a stake and barely conscious after all the beating you took. You tried to run on the day of sacrifice, and the villagers didn't take it kindly. They tried to cover your wounds as much as they could, but the dragon only had to lift the hem of your nightgown to see the ugly shackles marks on your skin. He took away the cranberry beads from your neck and saw your chest, all black and blue, smeared with the red juice. Did they think these smashed berries could cover the bloody marks? 

When the dragon in a form of a man lifted his head, you felt an unbearable heat rising in his fiery mouth.

"Fear not, my lady, it's all being dealt with." 

Although you thought your bones could break if he touched you, he cleaned the cuts and bruises so carefully you barely felt anything at all. Was it his magic? Was the water in this pond charmed? You didn't want to know.

The man wiped your face tenderly and took off your earrings colored in red, scoffing at the piece of metal in his large palm. Apparently, they didn't suit his taste - you saw little, but one glance at the treasures he kept hidden in his cave was enough to see the dragon had more precious metals and gems than the King himself. You expected dozens of servants and concubines to meet their rightful owner, too, but there was not a soul around you two. Did they hide? You hoped so. Otherwise it meant the rumors were true - the dragon simply ate all those sacrificial brides given to him. Even if he cared so genuinely about your wounds, maybe it was because he didn't like to see your bruised skin.

"Ah!" You squeezed your eyes shut. The man above you was covering your cuts with an odd ointment, its smell fresh and somewhat icy.

"We are almost done." He assured you and left an airy kiss on your knee. "You are so young, my love. You will heal fast."

You timidly bowed your head at his remark. How old was the dragon? It was too bold of you to ask him that, of course, so you simply kept your mouth shut.

"I am a century older than you." The golden-haired man said to your suprise, and your eyes widened at his words. "And no, I can't look inside your mind, my lady, but I am able to read your face. Please, do not be afraid."

You nodded, too frightened to speak. You remembered villagers running away in agonizing pain, screaming and pleading and cursing; the smell of the burning flesh and wood; the mighty flame devouring everything on its way. Those people had never been kind to you from the moment they seized you a month ago, but you still did not wish to see them dying such a horrible death.

"Do you feel better?" 

It took you a few moments to respond, and you shivered.

"Yes, Your... Your Highness."

You did not know how to adress someone as mighty as him, and the dragon laughed at your words, making you feel even more humiliated.

"You do not have to call me that, my love. I am Steve, Sarah's son." The dragon smiled at you and kissed your knuckles with his soft lips. You were confused and ashamed. This moment felt too intimate. "I mean no harm to you. Whatever people have said to you before, I did not bring you here to kill."

You stared at him in disbelief. What? Did his words mean the dragon did not want to eat you? Maybe you were supposed to become one of the concubines, then. In the end, if there were many of them hiding somewhere deep in the cave, it could be true. You had never wished to serve any man like that, yet it was still better than to be eaten alive.

"Steve, Sarah's son." You mumbled quietly, looking at your drenched nightgown with a sense of deep shame - the white fabric became completely see-through, and you tried to cover yourself with your hands. "T-thank you for..."

It was hard to speak as you trembled in his strong muscular arms, and the man smiled at you, caressing your head as if you were a child. Before you could finish your thought, he lifted you up in the air, caring little about your soaked clothes that got him wet right away. You shut your eyes again, afraid to see where he was taking you and trying to concentrate on your pain instead. Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as before - the ointment Steve used was magical, indeed.

Once you realized both of your were up in the air, you held on to him for dear life. You still couldn't understand how the dragon was able to transform only a part of him - his hands caressing you were still pretty much human. 

You didn't utter a single word before you landed on something soft and fluffy, your nightgown oddly dry on your skin. As you finally opened your eyes, you saw Steve's large figure hovering over you and whimpered, balling up on a huge bed high above the ground.

"It pains me to see you like this, sweetheart." The dragon's voice was unexpectedly tender. "But I know how terribly those filthy brutes treated you. You are afraid I will do the same..." He became quiet for a few moments, and you gulped, suddenly feeling guilty. "Please know I am here to protect you, my love, from any danger from within. No one will ever hurt you again. You're safe here."

Your eyes glimmed with tears at his kind words, and you sobbed, covering your face with a fluffy blanket you found on the bed. He wasn't going to hurt you, he said. He took care of your wounds and brought you somewhere nice, giving you a chance to rest after all the horrors you went through. You didn't know whether he was just toying with you, but for now you felt better, laying on a huge bed covered with blankets and furs. 

"I know you would like to have some time alone, but I can't leave you as of now." The dragon explained when he lowered himself on the bed. "You will heal better with me close. You can handle it, my lady, can't you?"

You wished his hot hand was not on your belly as you shivered from his touch, but you kept silent and nodded. Even if you did not want to be close to the man who could burn you to ashes within a minute, you had no right to protest. Maybe you would heal faster just as he said. 

"Sleep now, my love." Steve pressed his burning lips to your forehead. "It will get better tomorrow."

You said nothing as he pulled the blanket over you and moved closer. This intimacy with a man was foreign to you, but he did nothing other than holding you in his arms. He didn't want to hurt or use you. He only kept you safe just as he said before, you tried to assure yourself.

Thinking of his gigantic scaled wings of blue and gold colors, you quickly drifted off to sleep.

____________

The next morning you woke up to the divine smell of fresh fruits and honey, the dragon placing some peculiar dishes right on the bed around you. When you gaped at him, he let out a low chuckle and gave you a wet towel to wipe your sleepy face. He insisted that you ate right after waking up, claiming that your body needed strength - most of your wounds disappeared during the night. Apparently, it was all his magic.

"Try this, my lady." He easily sliced an odd red fruit with his razor sharp claw. "This one is special."

"Why?" You asked timidly, but took a piece and saw the white pulp with little black seeds inside it.

"It is called dragon fruit." He answered, proud. "It tastes like nothing else, believe me."

You smiled back at the man and took a little bite, feeling something sweet and sour on your tongue. He was right, you had never ever tried anything like that. Snatching more pieces of the fruit from Steve, you started eating them so fast he ended up laughing and rolling over the bed. 

Then he took you to the pond again and gave you your new clothes, a white nightgown embroidered with golden threads and a blue robe, soft as a cloud. Once you changed, Steve showed you around his cave, giving you an opportunity to look at his fabulous treasures - golden and silver coins, gems, jewellery, armour, statues, all those things you had never seen before. He said you could take anything you wanted except for a few magic tools that were unsafe to use. You felt like you were living in a fairytale. 

However, you became frightened again once the dragon told you he had neither servants nor concubines. When you asked what had happened to all those women who were sacrificied earlier, he simply said he took them to the other kingdom far, far away as he had no need for them. But over the seven seas, where women were treated better than here, no one could take them against their will, he claimed, and all of them agreed to leave to start a new life. Did a place like that truly exist?..

"Will you bring me there too?" You whispered, afraid of your own thoughts. 

You didn't like that look in his eyes. It didn't sit well with you.

"I do not think it is... wise, my love." His quiet voice alarmed you. "The women I brought over the seven seas were stronger than you... smarter than you. No one was as fragile, easily broken. Look what had happened when those peasants kidnapped you. You barely stayed alive."

"But..." Your eyes were glistening with tears again. "... You said women were not treated like posessions there... Why won't I be safe?"

"Nowhere is safe if you can't protect yourself even a little. I pray you stay mindful, my lady."

You had nothing to say, lowering your gaze to your bare feet and clutching the silk fabric of your elaborate nightgown. Although the dragon was right, it was hard to believe now he truly let all those women go. Were you that bad? That feeble he decided to leave you with him? It was unfair. You had the right to decide your own fate even if he considered you weak. 

You didn't say it, though. He could still burn or eat you alive if you protested against his decisions, you thought. When his claws scraped over your gentle skin, you bit down on your lip and nodded again. 

You were trapped.

"Until I get stronger, who am I here? What do I do?" You whispered, not meeting his gaze, and the man softly caressed the top of your head. "Am I a prisoner?"

"Of course not, my dear." He shook his head at your words and took your cold hands into his own, his skin so hot it was almost burning. "You are my precious sacrificial bride, my treasure. The only thing I demand from you is obeying me, love. Do what I tell you, and you will always be safe."

He wrapped his hands around your back and made you lean on him, pressing your head to his wide chest and kissing your temple. There was so much tenderness in his moves it almost made you cry. Why did it have to be like that?

"Can you make me stronger?" You moved your head to look at him and saw his bemused expression.

"Forgive me, my dear, but women like you are not made to overcome hardships of life." The dragon's fingers stroked your flushed cheek. "I cannot share my strength with you, I'm afraid. But I can protect you. It is enough, isn't it?"

You nodded once more, keeping your eyes shut and listening to him breathing slowly. You knew little of how possesive the dragons were once they spotted a treasure they wanted to keep for themselves.

[janekfan]

Can I request “Can’t wake up” for Jon from the bingo? I love your fics!!!!

aaa thank you! I hope you enjoy it ^^

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642440

“Jon!” Martin crashed through the door to the safe house, locking it for all the good it would do and drawing the curtain to block out the all seeing sky.

As Jon put so eloquently before losing consciousness, it was looking back, and Martin had zero desire to engage in a staring contest. He doubted the efficacy of such an action but it calmed the animal part of his brain that didn’t enjoy being watched and allowed him to focus all of his attentions on the crumpled man folded up on the floor. It hadn’t been an easy drop. Jon’s arm was twisted uncomfortably beneath his body, the side of his face that impacted the floor blossoming into a bruise that didn’t begin the healing process like Martin expected it to.

“Jon?” Kneeling, Martin gently turned his cheek toward him, brushing a thumb over the contused bone, swollen and hot. There was no response; not a groan or a flicker to reassure Martin that there was anything left of Jon at all and he swallowed down the clot of emotion coating his throat like ash and dust. He felt feverish, and when Martin lifted him off the floor, Jon hung lax and loose, stomach rising and falling unevenly when he breathed. With his head thrown over his arm, Jon gaped like a fish, mouth slack and accentuating his irregular wheezing. “Oh, darling.” It sounded neither comfortable nor easy, strained like a broken bellows. Under his hands Jon’s muscles spasmed and Martin wanted to get him as comfortable as possible, whisking him to the bedroom and laying him down among bedclothes still unmade from this morning. “Hey now, it’s time to wake up.” He swept damp and messy strands away from his face, noting his ashen pallor now accented by the flush settling so high in his face.

Martin spent the next quarter hour carefully spooning dosed tea into Jon, holding him close in his lap and counting down the minutes until it was supposed to take effect and rocking them both. Frowning, he pressed his lips against his blistering forehead, hoping, wishing for a change, however slight, and there was none. If anything the fever had risen and Martin perversely found himself praying that the Eye would protect him. It could do them this one favor couldn’t it? It’d taken everything else. Hurt them. Almost torn them apart.

Thoughts like circling vultures followed Martin wherever he went. Fear and anxiety and the feeling of being watched made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up and as much as he wanted to be with Jon, sit with him, watch him, protect him, the silence only made it worse. So, wrist deep in sudsy water Martin methodically scrubbed their breakfast dishes, fighting back tears because this morning everything had been different. Almost hopeful.

And now--

Martin was jolted from his thoughts by a crash, followed by harsh, damp coughing, and he was sprinting to the bed room they shared with his hands on him in seconds, drawing a strangled moan from where Jon was drowning on the floor.

“I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry.” Jon was on his back, hugging his stomach, viscous, black ink streaming from his lips, his nose, his eyes like oily tears. Gently, Martin turned him onto his side, petting back his sweat soaked curls and holding him there as the coughing eased and he labored for air, sweat lining his face in a thin sheen. “You’re alright, breathe, darling.” His skin was a brand against Martin’s, hot and dry, fever burning through him like a prairie fire. “Jon?” Cradled there, in Martin’s hands, glassy brown slipped over him like a river over stone and he laid limp and kitten-weak on the floor like that for long moments until his seeking, searching eyes fluttered shut again. With shaking fingers, Martin smudged the sticky black tracing the curvature of his cheek before realizing it had been too long dried there and leaving to fetch a cloth. With care, he scrubbed away the residue, tugging off the oversized tee before rinsing away the mess and sweeping down his neck, the shallow wells above his collar bones, letting the air wick away the heat buried like coals banked beneath his breast bone. Rather than risk another article of clothing (of Martin’s clothing) he gathered up Jon’s wayward limbs and tucked him between the sheets without before settling down beside him, hand moving over his brow, along his jaw, memorizing familiar planes to soothe himself to sleep.

Martin woke later, drenched in sweat from the spike in Jon’s fever. He was restless with it, falling in and out of static and statement and Martin lost track of how many times he begged Jon to come back to him, to resist whatever was trying to steal him away because he belonged here with him. Though the light no longer changed, Martin spent what seemed like hours running a damp flannel over Jon’s hot skin as he shifted fitfully on the pillows. There was nothing to do for it but persist, last long enough to win out over the Eye’s cruel machinations, whatever they might be.

“I’m here, darling.” Bright, acid green lit up the room in flashes, not unlike a lightning bug trapped in a jar, drawing a distorted magnetic tape whimper from the depths of his throat. “Hush, now.” Carefully, Martin slid an arm under Jon to prop him up, tipping a mouthful of water into him at a time. “Jon.” Firm and demanding, Martin shook him by a narrow shoulder, the tide of fear rising higher and higher and threatening to close over his head.

If he could just slip back into the Lonely for a little while--

The sudden chill and scent of seasalt in the air shocked him out of the all too easy descent.

“Alright, love.” Muttering mostly to himself Martin pressed yet another kiss to his forehead, watching his chest hitch unevenly with a harsh, agonal breath. Jon may not be altogether human, but Martin wasn’t sure anything could burn like this for so long without doing permanent harm. He lifted a thin hand, kisses lingering over each knuckle, and went to run a tepid bath. Utterly silent, Jon sank, head pillowed on a folded towel and held above the water because he wasn’t able to hold himself. Slowly, Martin cupped water over his shoulders, drawing damp fingers through tangled curls, again and again, thumbing carefully over the still angry bruise, droplets like tears carving through the watercolor wash still clinging. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a mark remain this long. “Come on Jon, I can’t wake for you, dearest.” Murmuring sweet nothings he continued, soaking his hair and clearing away the tenacious inky stains from nigh translucent brown vellum.

“Mmmah…” Jon tried to speak, attempt limned with the Beholding’s corruption, and he coughed a river of iridescent black that cascaded down his naked chest, billowing out in obsidian clouds over the water’s surface. “S’s’sor…” Like a skipping cassette, and the second gush threatened to choke him. Head bowed, a few tears dripped into the tub like the indiscriminate ring of a wind chime.

“Shh, shhh.” Please, let this be like a poison leaving his body, a purge of some sort that signalled the end of whatever Jonah had done to him. “Just relax, love, let me take care of you.” A soft cloth lathered with a neutral smelling soap removed the ichor, and Martin massaged shampoo into his scalp, careful to keep it out of Jon’s heavily blinking eyes until they closed again. Dried and dressed, this time with just the slightest bit of awareness, Martin tucked them both in, tugging Jon’s damp head under his chin and running his palm up and down the smooth skin of his back, fingertips ghosting over the raised edges of scars. Jon was sick several more times before finally falling into a deep, restorative sleep, and Martin wasn’t sure what he was going to tell Daisy about her sheets if--when all this was over, but he didn’t need anymore guilt hanging over his head.

A strangled noise roused Martin from where he was curled around the empty Jon-shaped space and bleary eyed he raked over the room to find him peeking through a slit in the curtain. Even from the bed Martin could see how much his hands trembled and he pushed himself up out of the warmth to go to him.

“Jon-darling. You shouldn’t be out of bed.” As though on cue, his knees buckled under him and Martin rushed to catch him up, lowering them both to the cold floor. Jon held on so tight to his jumper his knuckles turned white and he pressed the heel of his palm hard against his temple, shaking, breath hitching, eyes huge and wet and scared.

“M’Martin.”

“Shh. You’re alright.” Gently, he pressed a kiss into his hair, over the shadow that remained of the bruise. Jon's voice was his own again, raw and ravaged as he pulled away to stare, already Seeing, already Knowing, into Martin’s eyes.

“Wh’what have I, I done?”

[birdsaesthetic]

My Guardian Angel

Summary: In the dead of the night, Jane’s stitches start bleeding…. 5x05 tag. On fanfiction.

Note: THANKS to @lurkingwhump for sending me the prompt: "Jane being ill or injured and Kurt giving her some TLC, or Jane's suffering from night terrors/nightmares and Kurt comforts her."

Kurt kissed Jane good-night, made sure she was comfortable in bed, and asked her if she needed, or even wanted, anything at all, his own heart included. But she shook her head with the tiniest of smiles, whispered her love to him, and that she was good, as long as he was beside her, within hand reach.

There was the dull pain, still, throughout her entire body after the surgery she had earlier, but she said nothing about it, and insisted to sleep it off. And she did, almost immediately, only to be woken up yet again by another nightmare in the dead of the night, her breathing rapid, her mouth dry, and her stomach stinging in pain she wished she were still having the same awful nightmare instead.

She cried quietly, even soundlessly, as she saw flashes of the nightmare in her vision, and endured the pain all alone. She shed a great amount of unbidden, salty tears, like she'd never done before, and they easily slid from her eyes to her cheeks, down her neck, before dampening the pillow. It was too much. The nightmares; the reality; the misery; the pain; the could have happeneds.

A full minute passed, two, three, then she had the slightest courage to place a shaking, cold hand on her wound beneath the sweater, and found out that the bandage was soggy, sloppy. There must be blood, lots of it, it must be bleeding again, she thought. Goddamnit.

When she pressed on it in an attempt to stop it, helpless yet brave, she was rewarded with such sharp, fast pain—as fast as the speed of light. Someone else might've screamed their heart out at that, but she didn't. She swallowed it, as her breathing got heavier, her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes squeezed tight in pain that seemed to transport her to another state, one in which everything, even the past she'd been working so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash.

"Kurt," she whispered, or tried to, withdrawing her hand from beneath the sweater. But when he didn't seem to respond, she whispered his name again and again and again, like a prayer, her voice needy, cracking, and scared. "Kurt…Kurt…Kurt."

It took Kurt some time to come to consciousness, and realize that his name was being repeated in the present, softly, and that the voice was Jane's, his Jane, not from the nightmare where he was being restricted to a chair by the enemy, unable to move, helpless by all means. But then he turned over like the world was coming to an end and propped himself up on his elbows, his mind fuzzy for the first seconds before it became alert. Wasting no more second, he stumbled on his way down to Jane on bed. "You okay?" he blurted.

"No… My wound…" Despite all the sweat she had exuded by now, she was shivering when he laid a hand on her, and in the semidarkness, she took a glimpse of his eyes and saw warmth, life, hope. He, from his point of view, saw tears shimmering in her eyes. Saw the pain, too. His heart sank, and quickly yet carefully, with feather-like hands he reveled on her wound, and by now it looked haphazardly covered in red-soaked bandages. Every alarm in his body sat off at the sight, and he clenched his jaw, forced himself to calm down and assess the damage, see his options. He could go and get Patterson and Rich and Tasha right here so he could use the help. But he wouldn't leave her alone while bleeding. He wouldn't. He would have to do this on his own, here and now and quickly.

"Kurt…is it that bad?" Jane asked between gritted teeth. She couldn't bring herself to have a look herself, and now she watched her husband stare down at her with intense concentration while frowning his brows.

"It's bleeding, but I'll clean it, okay?" he told her, before rushing straight to turn on the lights, wash his hands, grip the first aid kit, and return to her in bed. He looked at her face tight in pain and, with shaking hands, he put on a pair of gloves. "It'll be okay, Janie," he reassured her, "It'll sting a little, maybe, but it won't hurt much."

She only managed to nod, deep down knew exactly how much it'd hurt, and it'd be more than just a little. "I'm ready", she confirmed, biting her lip to hold a whimper in so Kurt wouldn't feel bad.

He began with exposing her abdomen to the fullest then, holding his breath, he discarded the bandage, to which she let out a hiss, and her hands flinched, almost pushed his away. But instead she took fistfuls of the blanket beside her, and steeled herself for what was yet to come. After Kurt threw the bloody bandage, and was about to do the cleaning, he looked her in the eye. "You have to tell me when it's painful, Janie," he said, as he breathed and sweated and prayed for her in his head.

"I trust you… It won't be painful," she whispered, eyes only half open, lips pale, forehead creased in a plea for him to get her out of her misery. If he could, he'd have stopped the time, taken away all the pain in a heartbeat. She didn't deserve this. His wife. Jane. Kind. Strong. Lovely. Resilient. Ass-kicker. Beautiful. Unstoppable. Talented. So damn stubborn. But all he could do right now was this, cleaning her wound quickly yet gently before it'd get any worse.

"Stay with me. Keep breathing. It'll be quick," he told her, as he got one of the gauzes wet with saline solution. "You're gonna hate me right now, but try to—"

"I'll never hate you," she rushed to say, shaking her head. "Never."

"You sure?" He began cleaning, gently wiping all the oxidized blood away. Jane winced once that gauze came into contact with the fresh stitches on her abdomen. The skin around the wound was so fragile, so delicate, and it stung like a fire. "Deadly sure."

After stealing one look at her determined face, committing it to memory, Kurt continued, frowning at the way the gauze was already staining with Jane's blood. But he continued, replacing the gauze and wetting it and wiping as needed. She… She was painting by now, her body jolting, and so Kurt wanted to talk her down. "You said…that you are deadly sure you won't hate me? Huh? Even if I might be hurting you now?"

"You're healing me…" she corrected. "I'm…in the safest hands I could ever—" She gasped, aloud and hoarsely, as her head lifted from the pillow. "Fuck—it's painful, Kurt."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Seven. Eight."

"I'm sorry," Kurt replied. "I'm almost done, I promise. Two more minutes, okay?"

Jane's head fell back to the pillow, and she didn't nod, nor showed any indication that she'd heard him. But she did count to something close to hundred, making herself go slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Until she lost count, before losing full consciousness…

It would be the most pleasant way to go, to die in his arms. Her husband. Kurt. Brave. One of a kind. Loving. Caring. Owns the sexiest of smiles. Deadly when needed be. Overprotective. Loyal to the marrow. But it wouldn't be fair to leave him behind, alone, just because things didn't go their way. They were supposed to spend their lives together, share happiness and sadness together, get older together, against all odds. It was true and unfortunate that they may not have everything they used to have: freedom, family, safety, good reputation, property, some kind of control. But truly, they did have everything they needed: each other, and friends for life.

There were fingers brushing against her cheek with surprising gentleness when she fluttered her eyes open, and she hummed—not in pain any more but in contentment. And then, there he was, her guardian angel, wearing a smile that she'd trade the world for it. He inched closer to her in bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, just when he reached for her hand and dotted it with kisses.

"Better." Last time she saw the same hand he was kissing now, it was covered with blood. Her own blood. But right now it was clean and warm and being kissed by him.

"How long have I been out?"

"Six hours." He smiled sadly. "Was it that painful?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah?"

"It was more painful than being shot…and as painful as the surgery. But—"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, doesn't matter. I'll be okay." She touched his cheek to comfort the two of them. "Really, though, what I would do without you, Kurt?"

"Let's not think about that."

They shared a smile, a kiss, and a moment of comforting silence.

[awkward-tension-art]

Put on a Show

So @weebsinstash has an incredible yandere!erasermic x reader series go read everything they write, its fantastic

I wanted to play around with the idea too, so i asked for permission on anon lol.

enjoy this full 2,090 words

Warning: yandere themes, yandere!erasermic, League of Villains, fear, mentions of past torture, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, implied  Spinner x Reader, kissing, Villain origin story, female pronouns used for reader, (if i missed a tag lmk)

You ran. You ran as fast and as far as you could. Your bare feet hit the wet ground, cursing as you stumbled. Your hands hit the mud, but you didn’t stop.

Even when your lungs screamed.

Even when your muscles burned.

You kept going.

With luck, a razor and your own wits you had managed to escape that hell house. You’d managed to escape from the clutches of your obsessed demons. 

At the slight thought of your tormentors, the now healed break in your leg aches all over again. 

Keep going.

Keep going.

KEEP GOING.

The woods betrayed you before, but hopefully, the downpour may erase your footprints. A branch latched onto your shoulder and you screeched. Memories of Aizawa’s cruel grasp flooded your mind. You slipped on the wet ground, tumbling down a slight incline. 

Dazed, confused and hurt, you ignored your pain and kept going. Desperation and adrenaline kept you going.

Do not stop.

Do not stop.

You looked down to avoid losing your eyes to another branch, only to embarrassingly run straight into a tree. Your body fell back, landing harshly on the mud.

You heard a groan.

Trees do not groan.

Fear overran your systems as you slowly, shakily looked up.

In front of you was a man covered in green scales. He looked more like a lizard, than an actual human, but you quickly guessed that was his quirk. But, he wasn’t alone.

A scarred man with piercings. A teenage girl with blond hair. Another man with a mask. And lastly…

You recognized him from the news.

Shigaraki.

The League Of Villains

“What the hell,” The lizard-man hissed, rubbing his head, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

You took your chances.

“Please…” you gasped, looking up at the white haired leader, “Help me.”

It took approximately 3 seconds to be taken from the forest. The scarred man, Dabi you learned, pulled out his phone and called Kurogiri, their method of transport. 

Spinner, surprisingly like a gentleman, helped you stand and introduced himself. 

Not a second later your vision was filled with black and you were out of the rain.

Out of the cold.

Out of the monsters’ clutches.

Instead, you found yourself in a surprisingly comfortable bar scene. It was warm, bright, and quite homey.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you, his red eyes giving away nothing. The blonde however, hovered, as she began to talk. You couldn’t keep up, exhaustion slowing your mind and mental process. All you managed to register is ‘blood’.

A tall woman spoke up first, “oh dear, look at you. You look like a wet rat.” She inspected you before standing straight, “Let me get you something dry.You can call my Big Sis Magne!”

You nodded, managing a small “thank you,” as she rushed out of the room to come back with a dry towel, draping it over you.

‘Huh, it smells nice,’ you thought, wrapping it around your shoulders, taking in the small comfort. Almost like roses and lavender…

The leader finally spoke up, “Who are you?”

That was the question. That one simple question caused the dam to burst. You broke down, telling them everything. The torture, the abuse, the agony, all by the hands of two supposed heroes. You went over every grueling, painful detail, tears pouring down your face. 

They knew of your captors and torture before they even knew your name.

With every word, The league members, especially Dabi, became more and more disgusted and angry. You didn’t even finish when Spinner offered a kind hand for you to hold onto. 

“P-please,” you finally managed, “D-don’t send me back…”

Shigaraki scoffed, “Heroes think they can just do whatever they want huh? Well fuck ‘em. Eraserhead and Present Mic want their precious treasure back? Well too bad. It’s ours now.”

Big Sis Magne let out a happy laugh, “Oh good! Another girl! If you ask me, only having Toga around was getting to be too much.” She took your other free hand, “We’re gonna be such a good team, those nasty heroes won’t know what hit them.”

“I can’t wait to make them pay with their blood,” Toga smiled, her golden eyes shining with excitement. Dabi remained silent, but Spinner gave you a kind smile. “What a show it will be! You, coming face to face with those demons, and having us at your back!” The one with the mask, Mr.Compress, finally spoke, giving a theatrical hand wave.

With every word, you felt your shoulders get lighter. 

“Now,” The leader, your new leader, spoke up, “Tell me all about your quirk, and those pieces of garbage that hurt you.”

When Shouta and Hizashi returned home, they knew something was wrong. The house seemed...cold. You were not in the living room, nor the kitchen. 

They assumed this was one of your bad days. Where you’d sleep until it was late at night, only so you can avoid them.

Quickly, that changed. 

The closer Shouta got to your door, the more he felt his gut twist. The air seemed wet and almost humid.

“Hey, are you awake in there?” He knocked, concerned, “I’m coming in!” 

When he opened the door, the wet air made sense. Your window was open, rain poured in from the storm outside. The carpet and everything else by the window was soaked, giving the hero a clue that you’ve been gone a while. 

“HIZASHI!” The black haired male called out, darting into the room. Desperately he looked around, only to look up when he heard his husband cry out. 

“She’s gone! Our songbird is gone!!” He panicked, aiding Shouta in his desperate search. The couple tore apart the house, hoping this was something else. Hoping you didn’t leave through the window. 

They hoped and prayed, only for their optimism to be dashed when their search turned up empty. 

“We need to go after her!” The blonde hero cried, “s-she could be hurt! She doesn’t know how to take care of herself!!” 

Shouta was already preparing to venture outside. He was at the door when he turned to look at his severely distressed husband, “stay here. In case she comes back, I’ll go look for her.” 

With that, Eraserhead ran out of the front door of the house, hoping to find you in the woods. 

Days became weeks became months. With every passing hour, you felt happier and lighter. Your spirit and soul were healing. It will take time, but you knew you were able to recover. You had escaped, and found a family who would ride or die with you. 

You’d ride or die with them. 

Spinner was especially kind to you. He was a gentleman, always asking before touching. You spent most of your free time with him when he or you weren’t gone collecting information or searching for members. 

You still weren't comfortable going on missions by yourself. Most of the them were with Dabi, Big Sis Magne or Jin, who you’d met shortly after your joining. Despite the short time with them, you felt like you belonged. You helped them, they helped you. You became a part of their family. 

They’d even gone so far as to get your cat Mochi back. Dabi simply dumped the kitty on your lap and walked away without saying anything. You missed your feline friend, and now in the league, he gets all the love the villains could muster. 

They try to keep sudden loud noises to a minimum. Occasionally a surprise yell or sound would happen, but someone was always quick to jump to your defense. 

It was mostly Shigaraki, but he’d apologize begrudgingly.

Even he wasn’t so bad. You had gone with Toga to get him a new controller, and he’s tolerated you ever since (maybe even respect you after you managed to beat him to a quick video game match). 

This was your life. This was your freedom. 

This was what you wanted. 

It’s been hell without you. Shouta and Hizashi were in hell. It’s been months since the eraser hero found your footprints surrounded by others. It’s been months of searching. Months of desperation to rescue you from your kidnappers. That’s the only logical reason for your disappearance. 

You were kidnapped. 

You needed them. You needed your lovers. 

But they couldn’t save you. 

Some nights Shouta would wake up alone. He’d be cold and lonely. Slowly he’d walk to your room, and find his blonde husband asleep, holding your favorite pillow. 

It stopped smelling like you a while ago. 

With every passing day their hope waned. With every passing hour their hearts ached. 

Shouta finally broke down one night. When he woke up alone again he wandered to your room, finding Hizashi in his usual position. Instead of being asleep, the blonde’s shoulders shook with muffled sobs and cries. 

The Eraser hero sat on the bed and held his husband, not bothering to muffle his own weeping. 

This isn’t what they wanted. 

The view from the roof was both beautiful and hilarious. You orchestrated a nomu attack, remaining hidden. Spinner was accompanying you. The others were scattered around the city, taking in the chaos. 

You remembered those roads and streets. You walked them for so long. 

Until those bastards stole you. 

Now, with your life in the league, you could stroll down the sidewalk again. You could see the sky and feel the sun. 

You could punish heroes for abandoning you. For letting you get kidnapped. 

A smile graced your lips. The chaos of the nomu was beautiful. 

There was a flash of black in the corner of your eye, and you turned your head. Slowly, your smile grew at the sight of Eraserhead struggling to take down the brutish monster. 

Only to have your smile fade when Present Mic saves him. 

“Ugh, I hate them.” You growled, “I see them and I hate them.” 

Spinner looked up from his spot on the roof. He swished his tail once before following your gaze to your distant tormentors.  

“You should put on a show,” he put a hand on your shoulder, “drive ‘em even more bat shit.”

You laughed warmly, the idea of breaking their hearts even more gave you infinite joy. 

“Mind if I use you?” You asked, preparing to use your quirk. 

With the villains you have gotten stronger. Your quirk was a weapon. A strong, powerful, useful weapon. 

You’re the opposite of what Shouta and Hizashi said over and over again. 

They can’t tell you that you're weak. Not anymore. 

There was a tipped over bus, and that’s where you planted the illusion. 

You and Spinner, hand in hand. 

Oh this is gonna be good. 

When they dealt with the Nomu, Hizashi looked to the bus, and even from a distance, you could see his eyes widen. 

“S-songbird!” 

You gagged, and Spinner laughed softly beside you.

Shouta looked up, meeting the illusions gaze. 

You feared he’d use his quirk, destroying your fun, but he didn’t, at least not in that instant. 

“G-get away from her!” The black haired male shouted, his black eyes trained on fake-spinner. 

“No,” the illusion spoke, “I think your precious songbird belongs to me.”

The illusion of spinner pulled illusion you closer. The illusion of you looking bashful.

Shouta prepared an attack, jumping up in the air to do so. Hizashi prepared his own quirk, apparently ok with sacrificing your well-being to get you. 

You cause fake-spinner to dip fake-you into a deep kiss. 

That was apparently distracting enough to cause Present Mic to choke on air, and Eraserhead to stumble and miss his attack. 

“Come on my sweet,” fake-you cooed, “let’s go.” 

You created one more illusion, covering the two fakes in smoke, making them disappear. 

As you finished with your quirk, you rubbed your temples. 

Spinner laughed beside you, “m-my sweet! Oh my god you killed me.” 

You gave a faint smile, that only grew when you heard Hizashi’s mournful howling. 

Spinner and you peered over the edge of the roof, and spotted the two of them breaking down. The blonde was wailing. You swear you saw his fat tears from your position. 

Shouta just looked broken. He looked absolutely devastated.

Maybe a long time ago that sight would have hurt you. 

You made eye contact with your partner next to you. 

“My sweet,” you teased, promptly bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go! Before they hear us!” Spinner tried to shush you, failing with his own giggling. 

You nodded and grabbed his hand. 

“Let’s go then,” you winked, “my sweet.”

The both of you fled, making your way to Jin and Toga. 

You smiled at the sight of them, only feeling happier as more of your family of villains got together. 

This is exactly where you wanted to be. 

A villain, to make those heroes suffer.

[toutallyahoe]

Bad Start, Good End ~ Aziraphale (Good Omens)

Requested By: --

A/N: this sucks

but i am too lazy to do something about it hnnnn anyways, might rewrite it but we all know i wont so... fuck

─────────────────

Today was an awful day.

Simply awful, that's what [Name] had concluded as he quickened his pace to not get caught by the cries of the heavens above pouring down to the earth. But alas, he was already soaked to the bone. His used to be clean and dry suit already ruined with the fabric clinging onto his skin which annoyed him greatly. His [Hair color] hair was a wet mess. The sloshing sound of his wet sock covered feet inside his shoes made him cringe from how wet and disgusting it is.

And not to forget that the [Hair color] haired man clearly knows the paperwork he had done earlier inside the brown briefcase he was holding is absolutely ruined and thinking about it, he will restart his report again. What a pain...

Muttering curses on the heavens above on why was he being cursed with this awful bad luck right now. [Name] was so done.

Was it because he did not help that kid in the park earlier that day on getting his ball off of the tree? That brat deserves that crap! That little brat was being a dick from messing with those poor ducks that was passing by to go to the lake.

Sighing, the [Hair color] haired man looked around where he was going to and saw no one on the streets, well, it was quite obvious with the pouring rain. Another sigh left his lips as the man looked at the heavens above, the rain hitting his face as he glared at the sky. Anger can be seen in his [Eye color] eyes yet also just tiredness and despair.

"God, why do you make me suffer today?" [Name] had asked to no one in particular as he then looked back in front of him to find whatever to help him shelter from the weather.

Continuing his walking  the [Hair color] haired man would look around to find any shops that were open to atleast shelter his soaked form until the rain pass. But none seemed to be that welcoming. Especially how every building seemed to make him be like the plague as they locked their doors.

Clack

Clack

Clack

The sound of his shoes hitting the wet pavement as the droplets of water continue to hit his [Skin colorp skin. It was honestly annoying as the [Hair color] haired man often cringe when he had stepped on a very large puddle on the street. His already soaking wet shoes and sock making him shudder.

"I should have paid attention to that weatherman," [Name] grumbled, thinking back earlier when he was still groggy and tired that he zoned out from whatever the newscaster were saying in his television when he was about to start brewing some coffee to start the day, only to then realize the time was ticking and panicking on it.

Sighing, the [Hair color] haired man was clearly wishing he did bring his umbrella to work but the day did not went his way. Going to work three minutes late which that one person who seemed to have some bone to pick with him (he didn't know what ever he dont to them but they're an asshole to him) won't stop ranting on how he was a disgraceful worker for being late. It did not help how [Name] had not drank his coffee nor had eaten breakfast which his mood was very thin. Causing him to snap at that pompous prick and it lead to him getting a warning for it.

"I hate this..." [Name] [Last name], the name of our poor man, had said as he stopped walking. The rain hitting the earth and him aswell, yet he didn't know what to do now. He was already wet and everything. This was not his day.

Looking at where he was, [Name] let out a sigh of relief to see a building that maybe he can hide away from the rain. The [Hair color] haired male prayed to whatever deities that was looking at him from the clouds above that he won't get kicked out for being soaking wet and not get yelled at with probably soaking the whatever tacky carpet in the shop he would come in to shelter for a bit.

Approaching the building, [Name] took mind that it looked rather homey, on the outside it is. [Name] was never one to judge in appearance... most of the time. Looking at the building once more, [Name] did not seem to recognize the building. Well, it was a bookstore. The door had a sign that said it was open which [Name] was thankful for and hoped he won't be disturbing anyone when he comes inside.

Opening the door, he stood there with a bit hesitation clearly seen in his form. Was this considered rude to come in being soaked to the bone? God, he hoped not. The [Hair color] haired man sighed, let's hope the owner or the clerk gives him some slack and sympathy to atleast let him shelter until the storm passes or only had drizzled left.

  

Aziraphale did not expect anyone to come in inside his bookstore. His little bookstore was something not many would go to, really. Often times, he gets people coming in his little bookstore for they had mistaken his with the other bookstore in the next street from his.

Aziraphale did not mind though. In fact, the sole reason he had this bookstore was merely an upfront for it was only a place where he could store his books that he collected from the centuries he had lived. After all, being an angel who looked after the earth had it's perks and one of them is getting to see how humanity evolved. May it be good or not, he saw a lot. And also collected a lot. In form of books, that is.

So, angel of the Almighty, Aziraphale did not expect the door of his little shop to have the bell's jingle, stating that someone had entered. The white haired angel was confused. Who on earth would come inside in such a weather to get a book? But whatever he had thought, the angel had to welcome the newcomer and also say that none of the books inside the shop was for sale. Only be looked but never to be sold. Ever.

Rounding up the corner, Aziraphale looked mildly shock and perhaps a bit miffed on what he saw. A [Hair color] haired man, soaked to the bone. His suit was wet and in no doubt that the briefcase he was carrying that whatevers inside that was ruined. But what caught the angel's was that the man looked so helpless. It made the angel's mood quickly change for shock and annoyed to pity and compassion.

Aziraphale saw the man's eyebrows were furrowed as he looked around like he was looking for something, occasionally shivering as he stayed at the door. Not really coming inside and the white haired being didn't know if he should be glad or disappointed. Especially how the man may be dripping on the floor of the shop but he still stayed there on the door to not cause more. Clearly, the man was hesitant to come in inside to damage the flooring of his quaint little bookshop.

"Um... hello?" There was shakiness on the man's voice that Aziraphale noticed. The poor fellow was in no doubt shivering and soaked, the angel decided to help the poor man. He need to as the [Hair color] haired man was shivering a lot and Aziraphale remembered that humans were weak creatures who should not be exposed in these types of weather or else they would get sick, or worse, die.

"Hello?" Aziraphale had softly said as he smiled warmly at the [Hair color] haired man as he calmly approached the man. The angel saw the [Hair color] haired man had sent him a shaky and apologetic look. "Welcome, what can I help you with?" Asked the angel. Knowing what the human really needed but Aziraphale wanted to be a good host, and also to not cause any misunderstandings.

"Well... um... sorry for the inconvenience," Aziraphale was surprised with the man's words. Why would he apologize? "But, I just needed to shelter for the rain for a bit. I'll be gone when it lessens but if you want to kick me out, umm, I'll go," the [Hair color] haired man sent a smile. Nervous he was and the angel knew that. It caused Aziraphale's chest clench a bit. This poor man.

"Ah! Nonsense," said Aziraphale. A welcoming smile in his lips as he approached the man on the door. "Please come inside, you are soaked to the bone!"

The man let out a hearty laugh but shakes his head in disagreement. "It is alright... I don't want to inconvenience you any further sir," he had said. The angel would have none of that though.

"No, it is alright! I insist," Aziraphale had said as he saw the [Hair color] haired man hesitate.

"A... are you sure? I don't want to ruin this shop's flooring," the [Hair color] haired man frowned as he looked around then settled his gaze to Aziraphale's form. "I can just stand here... to... not cause any more problems..." Aziraphale heard him mutter.

"No, no! It is alright, you need assistance and I am happy to assist you," Aziraphale urged and the man bit his bottom lip, thinking his options but nodded, albeit a bit hesitant. The white haired being saw him placed his briefcase on the floor as he fully went inside and closed the door. The angel knew that whatever was inside was in no doubt ruined.

"Should I take my shoes off to not cause more problem...?" Aziraphale couldn't help but smile at the man's insistence of not causing more inconvenience. Shaking his head in disagreement, he smiled at the man.

"It is alright," Aziraphale had said. "Now come, I think I can help dry you up for a bit," the man seemed to be hesitant and Aziraphale seemed to realized why.

"Oh! Do not worry, I will not do anything to you," the angel assured as a he felt his cheeks heat up. Was he to straight forward for that? Maybe he should just offered to give the man a towel. Thoughts muddled with his mistake, the angel did not noticed the man's amusement... but the angel did feel it. A bit that is.

"Thank you..." Aziraphale heard the [Hair color] haired man softly muttered. The angel's eyes soften as he brightly smiled at his visitor.

"It is no problem," Aziraphale had said. "Now come, you looked soaked to the bone!"

 

[Name] sat comfortably in one of the white haired being's couch as he took a sip from the tea the other had brewed. The [Hair color] haired man in a different clothing than his soaked suit that the other had lent him. Insisted on him wearing until his clothes dry off in the washer. Surprisingly, the clothes that the kind owner was to his own taste of style and also fits well with his form. It was a miracle to have clothes fitting for him, oddly enough. [Name] brushed it off as coincidence though.

The [Hair color] haired man, although felt guilty with practically mooching off with this nice owner of the small bookshop he stumbled on, felt glad too. This was probably one of the good things that had happened to his day as he watch the other man (named Aziraphale as what the white haired had introduced himself when he realized he never did) talking about one of the books he has.

[Name] had to admit, Aziraphale had an impressive collection of books. It honestly baffled him to see a very old yet still well preserved copy of William Shakespeare's books. Aziraphale had told, well, more so bragged, about how the books of the store were the very first copies and very rare edition of books from the centuries of past writers. And [Name] in no doubt believed Aziraphale's words.

The [Hair color] haired male had hung to every word that left Aziraphale's lips with awe plastered on his face. Aziraphale was currently telling a story about this one particular book he had that one costumer was so adamant on buying. Few chuckles leaving his lips when Aziraphale's face would show annoyance and irritation on that person who had shouted at him for not selling the book. It was amusing. [Name] had a smile on his face as he listened to Aziraphale's tales.

  

Aziraphale felt himself be happy and content on the bright and calming feeling he felt from the [Hair color] haired male he had helped. It was a nice feeling to help someone in need as the angel also did not miss the smile that never left [Name]'s lips as he told some amusing stories that happened in his quaint little bookshop or how he obtained some of his books.

The white haired being couldnt help but appreciate the [Hair color] haired man's presence. [Name] had a calming aura surrounding him and the aura of joy just radiating him was something Aziraphale welcome wholeheartedly. It was nice.

Aziraphale was worried for the [Hair color] haired human when he entered his shop. He was a shivering mess and he looked absolutely tired and done with life. The angel fully knew that [Name] had an awful day, but even so, [Name] didn't projected that anger and tiredness out to anyone. The [Hair color] haired man acted like a proper gentleman and Aziraphale was both happy and also rather sad about that.

Aziraphale was happy, in no doubt. [Name] had thought of others before him (not like a certain demonic friend of his who would blow off to anything to inconvenience him) but the angel was also sad because the poor man looked so done and tired when he entered the shop. Aziraphale knew [Name] was so hesitant on coming inside through his mannerism and the human's constant worried glances whenever he walks inside the shop in his soaked up form.

When Aziraphale had miracled some fitting clothes to the [Hair color] haired man and assured him that it was fine, the angel couldn't help but think on things to help [Name]. Aziraphale saw [Name] was a good man and the white haired being just wanted to help. After all, Aziraphale is a servant of the Almighty, and the Almighty would be happy to see her servants are helping her beloved creation. Not to mention Aziraphale just felt that [Name] needed something good to happen to him with all the things he had been through.

So here the two now, sitting comfortable in the white haired being's couches. Having tea and talking to each other with the air of calmness and content. Both [Name] and Aziraphale had smiles on their lips as they talked on things they had like. Spending time until the rain passed.

[divineslcyer]

"i just want you" B)

Send  “I just want you” for my muse’s reaction. || @dismembrd

Rain poured over them, the shelter they'd found in an abandoned hut offering momentary relief from the chill piercing their bones. It hadn't proved too hard to spark a fire, and thankfully the interior was still dry. She grumbled as she worked on squeezing the longer lengths of her hair. She didn't like the rain. Didn't like storms either--reminded her of the cold nights she would seek to be warm. Nights she'd pray for food for her and someone dear to her.

She had not thought she'd meet Ren along the way either--all too aware he'd been avoiding her recently. Mishil had wondered if it was from their last encounter--she had been trying to get his attention, in her playful method, and in truth, she was still thinking over his last words of apology when he'd pushed her away. It had stung--but perhaps it was better this way then.

Keeping her back to Ren, she sighed again and rubbed at her arms. Her uniform felt cold, wet, and heavy. Through the shutters, she could see the dark heavens and saw a flash of lightning. It painted the interior of the shack monochrome and she closed her eyes. She could hear footsteps pacing around-Ren, and the fire crackling as it gained strength.

It would be better if the storm passed quickly. She had work to return to, and needed to report back to her captain. Mishil turned towards the fire, concentrating before raising her hand and letting the flames follow her movements. When she looked up, she saw Ren gazing at her, his visible eye dark with his thoughts. She offered him a quiet smile, ❝ This should keep you warm for a while. ❞

When he blinked, she shrugged and turned away. ❝ I'm pretty sure I can make it by myself from here. ❞ It'd be fine, she was pretty fast with shunpo. Mishil didn't see the look of understanding flicker across his face, or how quickly he rose from his seat.

Ren had made it clear he did not want to be around her. Mishil stepped towards the door, rubbing the back of here neck. ❝ Eh, I'm soaked anyway so it's fine. ❞ She readied herself but felt a hand grab her arm and pull her away. She nearly yelped, whirling around with wide eyes. ❝ Are you crazy? With this storm, you'll put yourself in danger! ❞ He snapped, and she blinked as he gave her a gentle shake.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, its fine, since it would be. She'd endured worse. Has survived worse. She blinked again, and carefully pushed her arms out of his grasp. She patted his chest lightly, beaming brightly. ❝ You shouldn't worry, I'm still a third seat for a reason. I'll be fine Ren-san. I don't want to disturb you. ❞

This time when she turned, he tugged on her hair and she did yelp at that. ❝ --Ow! What the fuck?! ❞ Ren's forehead collided with hers and she swore she saw stars. Kneeling down, she held her head and felt her eyes prick with tears at the throbbing, sharp pain. Her temper flared as Ren hovered over her, ❝ I said stay dammit! ❞

She shot up, shoving him hard--her eyes blazing brightly. ❝ Why? You made it clear you don't want me around! So why the hell should I stay? Huh? ❞ She bared her teeth, frustration causing the flames nearby to crackle loudly. She whirled around, the fringe of her hair falling over her stormy eyes. ❝ You want me to keep away--so I'm leaving. ❞ This was better---Ren made it clear he didn't like her, nor should he---a simple misunderstanding. If he ever found out her secret...

❝ No! ❞ She caught his hand before he could grab her again, but he closed his hand over hers and pulled her forward until she collided against him. His arms closed around her tightly, keeping Mishil pressed against him. She stiffened when he lowered his head and closed her eyes immediately, bracing for another headbutt.

Instead, he kissed her forehead, one of his hands rising up to brush away at her hair. His calloused palm felt rough against her cheek but warm. ❝ I want you. ❞

Mishil felt her heart stop, and her eyes grow wide. She'd never seen such an expression aimed at her before--a look of frustration yet.. tenderness. Ren swept his thumb against her cheek, tilting his head down towards her as he repeated. ❝ I want you. ❞

How... could he? Want her?

Her stomach churned, and her heart pounded loudly against her chest. This didn't make sense. She wasn't beautiful---wasn't anything spectacular. If anything she was the opposite. It's what made her an ideal warrior.

❝ I'm.. ❞ She licked at her bottom lip nervously, still stunned in place. Ren's eye darkened, ❝ I'm... A Monster Ren.. ❞ She watched his mouth twitch, a low chuckle rumbling out from his chest. ❝ Mishil--you are not monstrous, you're beautiful. ❞ She wasn't. That had to be a lie. It must be a lie.

She was covered in battle scars and burns--she has been broken and healed again and again. She'd devoured---A shuddering thought as words echoed in her mind.

( I won't ----- you---, Forever Sister.. )

--Someone dear. Someone precious.

She could feel her eyes stinging, and her throat tighten. ❝ I could hurt you. I could kill you. ❞ She wouldn't want to, but what if she did? ❝ Don't... Don't do this.❞

❝ Do what? ❞ She didn't have the nerve to look at his face, and felt her voice tremble. ❝ Don't choose me. ❞

Ren raised her chin, and before she could protest, kissed her soundlessly. She gasped, gripping at his sleeves for purchase. He pressed her closer to him, tangling his hand into her hair until the chord that held it snapped free. Mishil felt tingly and near light-headed when he drew away and thought she felt her knees nearly buckle beneath her. Ren kept his hold around her waist, his dark eye watching her catch her breath and the faint flush that spread across her cheeks. Her long lashes fluttered as she tried to regather her thoughts, the loose strands of her hair spilling over her shoulders.

❝ Right now, ❞ He began, sweeping back some of her hair from the side of her face. "I doubt any man would resist this face." Her mouth was a deeper shade of dark red, swollen and inviting. He pressed his forehead against hers, his grin wolfish. ❝ Do you still doubt my words? I can keep kissing you.❞

Her blush darkened, and he kissed her again, lightly sweeping his mouth over hers. Chaste and tender until she rose on her toes and pressed her mouth against his. The next kiss was slower, and Mishil closed her eyes to savor it. A low sound rose from the back of her throat when she felt his tongue sweep against hers, a pleasant shiver racing down her spine. Why was he even a good kisser? It was a vague thought that left as quickly as it came when her arms tightened around his neck and he kissed her again. Ren traced kisses down her jawline, and she tilted her head when he kissed her fluttering pulse. She was aware of his hand sliding up the exposed skin of her back, and he rumbled. ❝ I'll stop now...❞ He was drawing his hands away when she caught them, drawing them to her waist. He studied her, and she held his gaze. Tentatively, she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him down slowly until he sat down and she was kneeling between his legs. The storm raged on overhead, and the fire they'd made earlier cast their shadows against the wall.

❝ I... ❞ She threaded her fingers through the long strands of his hair, then lowered her hand to her hakama, tugging at her sash carefully. ❝ I don't want to stop. ❞ Was that... horrible? Her lashes lowered for a moment, but Ren's fingers swept under her chin, his thumb tracing over her vulnerable mouth. ❝ Storm's not over. ❞

He hesitated, his gaze shifting from the shutters to her slowly. He exhaled from his nose, lowering his forehead against hers. ❝ ... I must be a horrible man myself Mishil. ❞ She didn't think so. Ren was strong, he was determined and funny. He could be brash, temperamental, and rude but even then she'd thought him endearing.

❝ Should I hold you then? ❞ She asked, and he chuckled lowly, giving his head a shake. ❝ It's been a long time since I've been asked something like that... ❞ He kept his head down, but she saw the flicker of emotion in his eye. The shadow of emotion disappeared as quickly as it came. She shifted closer, enfolding her hands around his neck until his forehead pressed against her chest and her chin rested over his hair. ❝ I understand. ❞ She answered softly, running her hands through his hair, lightly letting her nails scratch at his scalp. She thought she felt him shudder, but wasn't sure. He breathed out her name like a sigh, his hands roaming over her hips and loosening her sash. Mishil closed her eyes, ❝ Ren. ❞ When he raised his head, he kissed her again, and her Shihakushō slipped from her shoulders.

[oceansmelodysblog]

A Dream of the Past

Post-botw Zelink Fanfiction

version française : Un rêve du passé

Together we rode through the wind and weather as the rain whipped into our faces and soaked through our clothes to the skin. From then on, I watched Zelda to see if she managed to keep up, or if the heaviness from the relentless rain affected her too much. She was too stubborn to admit that she had reached her limit and pushed herself beyond it. As far as I could remember, she had been like this before the calamity, spending hours in the sacred waters of the springs to awaken her strength.

Slowly a memory crept into my consciousness that I thought I had forgotten:

I watched over the entrance to the spring of power while Zelda prayed until the early hours of the night, however without success. She opened her heart to me and revealed her sorrows and grief, then when I heard her voice tremble, I knew she was fighting back her tears and turned to her. As her chosen knight, I was not allowed to watch her pray, let alone look at her during this sacred ritual in her white dress that had become transparent from the water. But I had to do it, as her best friend and closest companion.

The bright moonlight illuminated her bare shoulders, while half of her face remained in darkness. Her right green eye reflected the light of the moon as tears ran down her face. So far I remembered through the images in the Sheikah Stone, but what came next struck like a fallen star to the ground.

I sheathed my master sword and, defying the resistance of the holy water, ran to her. I barely managed to catch her as she collapsed clutching at my arms. She was exhausted, physically as well as mentally. Sobbing and trembling, she cried her soul out as I held her head tightly against me.

"Link, why does it hurt so much? This burden on my heart, I can hardly endure it and feel myself drowning. Link. Please reach out your hand to me and pull me out of this darkness of uncertainty!" Zelda's voice trembled and broke off as she lifted her head in my arms and looked up at me. Her eyes were reddened from her desperate effort to hold back the tears and now they shone like the surface of spring water reflecting the radiance of the moon. Gently I stroked the strands of her hair behind her ear, worrying that I might shatter her. I leaned my forehead against hers, looked deep into her eyes and exhaled my desperate breath. It was hard for me as well to carry the burden of the hero, when all I wanted to be was a simple knight from Hateno, living modestly and untroubled with my family.

I noticed a heavy tear running down my cheek and how tenderly Zelda wiped it away and looked sorrowfully into my eyes, tears gathering at the edges of the corners of her eyes.

"Shhh, Zelda mark my words. I will follow you into any darkness, however dangerous and hopeless," I whispered against her lips, but before I could give in to her pleading eyes and break the chivalric oath, I reached into the water for her legs and lifted her into my arms. I stomped through the hip-high water, shifting my weight with each step, deliberate, so that I wouldn't fall into the wet with her.

 

"Link? Are you all right? You just said my name and then spoke of dangerous darkness... isn't it safe here?"

Her concerned voice snapped me out of my reminiscence. My heart was pounding and my breaths were heavier than usual.

'What was that just now? It felt like I was there again!’ it flashed through my mind. 'It felt so real, I could sense her lovely scent!'

"Link!"

I looked up with a jolt and gazed into wide-open eyes. In the shadow of the rain clouds and her hood, her normally emerald eyes now shimmered in the dark green of the Gerudo Desert plants. Not sure I was back in reality, I squinted my eyes and shook my head slightly to clear my head.

"Forgive me princess. I saw a vision of sorts, I'm not entirely sure though, it felt like I experienced it once. If I startled you by talking while I was doing it, I'm sorry. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before, at least there was no one close enough to say it did."

I saw her looking at me curiously and puzzled, but she didn't ask what it was about. She always gave me the space I needed to open up on my own, which I appreciated about her. Only once had she pushed me to give her an answer to my silent behaviour before the calamity, but after that she began to understand me even without words.  I didn't even know if she could remember it, if it was really a memory and if I had just fantasised it, which wouldn't necessarily make it more pleasant to tell her that I was having strangely intimate dreams about her.

She gave me an encouraging smile and I returned it with the same. But then her pale lips caught my eye and abruptly stopped her mare while I signalled my mustang to halt.

"Let's rest in the old barn up ahead, our horses need a rest.  The rain is draining their strength too." If I had told her to take a break, she would have looked at me defiantly and ridden on without me. But so I made her pay more attention to the feelings of her companion animal and secretly persuaded her to warm up.

In the old barn we found some hay, which of course we scattered on the ground together to give us and the horses a dry and pleasant-smelling place to lie down. Altay and Himawari lay down on the hay mats that Zelda and I had laboriously scattered, almost as if we had agreed. We looked at each other simultaneously and smiled at the cheeky behaviour of our animal companions.

While I knelt down next to Altay, I asked Zelda to sit down next to me, between both of our horses. I dried and cleaned Altay's coat as much as I could with a scrap of cloth, while Zelda took off her mare Himawari's saddle and groomed her. It was quiet yet comfortable between us. We heard only the pounding rain hitting the wooden façade and the sleepy breathing of our horses. Even though the unpleasant wet cold came in through the lack of a door, I felt myself getting toasty warm. I turned my head to Zelda to make sure she was warming up. Leaning against Himawari, she zapped through the Sheikah Stone, ignoring her reddened fingers. Sighing, I put down my master sword and shield, took off my hood and tunic and laid both on the ground to dry. As I thought about building a small fire, I felt her gaze on the back of my neck. She stared at me with her mouth slightly open while I looked at her questioningly.

But then I realised that she was looking at me somewhat absent-mindedly and she was looking through me, to a time that had long since passed.  'Did the scars on my body, trigger the memory of the day of my defeat?'

Carefully, I touched her on the shoulder. "'Zelda, I am here, I am alive and it is because of you. Please come back to me. Zelda!"

She blinked hard, pushing tears from her eyes.

"Link? Oh, by Hylia, I'm so glad you're alive!" she trilled between tears and a relieved laugh as she fell around my arms, throwing me onto my back with them.

I hardly dared move, my arms hovering discreetly over her back as she snuggled closer and closer to me, hiding her face against my neck. I shouldn't think about how it felt for me, no, I wasn't allowed to think about it. But I could not deny that I was deeply relaxed at that moment.

Relieved, she sighed against my neck and looked up into my eyes. At first she looked at me contentedly and even played with the strands of my hair, but suddenly this veil before her eyes disappeared and the expression in them became clear, like a cloudless sky.

She startled to her feet, fell to the side and held a hand in front of her sensuous mouth.

"Link! I'm sorry... I... I don't even know why I did that!"

Slowly, I sat up and run a hand through my hair, troubled. From the looks of it, her soul still couldn't distinguish what time she was in, due to the hundred year seal and the loss of space and time. I just knew I had to help her break out of this darkness, as I had promised in my vision. I let out a loud sigh and gave her a soft, honest smile.

"It's okay. Whenever you need my warmth, don't hold back." I slid close to Altay and leaned my back against him. He lifted his heavy head briefly and looked at me sleepily, but when I stroked his face he settled back to sleep. I turned my attention back to Zelda, who still looked confused.

Then I took the initiative and tapped my chest to show her that she could lean against me.

Slightly uncertain, she joined me and tentatively rested her head on my chest.

"It feels like a miracle to hear your strong heart beating in your chest. The last time I heard it, you were... you...." she whispered weakly. Just the thought of the word 'dying' caused her tremendous grief.

I felt that she was no longer herself; more fragile, more sensitive and full of sorrow. Her soul was shattered, and it hurt in every inch of my body. I felt her shoulders begin to shake, again struggling with her heart.

It had only been two days since her rescue from Gannon's clutches and yet she expected far too much of herself.

I pulled her onto my lap and tenderly lifted her face with one finger, I leaned my forehead against hers and sighed. At last, I was no longer bound by an oath.

With my fingertips on her chin, I stroked her soft, pure skin, her jaw, her cheeks, eyes, nose and finally I stopped at her lips. She relaxed noticeably and leaned closer to me.

"Whatever darkness you are in, however dangerous and hopeless, I will follow you there and save you," I breathed against her lips. My heart pounded and my breath trembled, I wanted to take away her pain, to help her heal. One last time I looked into her emerald green tortured eyes and closed the gap to her soft lips with mine.

I kissed her with the thirst of a desert wanderer who finally found water and the tenderness of snowflakes touching the ground.

Zelda interrupted our kiss; shaky breathing, she whispered my name.

It was all I could hear, nor did the drumming of the rain on the roofs reach me, nor the soft snoring of our horses, only her breath whispering, I once vowed the same words in the sacred spring of power.