#so i don't have to go far for a nice reading spot with trees grass water and some ducks and a swan family

[actual-changeling]

i don't have seasonal depression (all year round premium plus depression instead) but my body and brain are still looking outside and going "sun??? SUNLIGHT???? maybe sun will fix us. go sunlight. get sun" like some sort of primal caveman instinct

[artistsfuneral]

Jaskier meets Death at a forked path. He has never seen them in person before, their face - although incredible kind looking - is not one he's familiar with and yet he instinctively knows who is in front of him.

It's quite the idyllic picture to be honest. The path Jaskier has been following for the past few hours is lined with rough stone walls, the ones that are keeping flocks of sheep from straying too far. The sun is out and shining through the tree's leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the fresh grass. Death sits under one such dancing shadow-patch, surrounded by napping sheep. Their left hand is idly petting the spotted fur of a guardian dog, with their right, they're waving Jaskier over to join them.

He silently wonders if he should be scared. Others certainly would be terrified upon seeing Death waiting for them, but Jaskier has always been easily intrigued. Besides, Death is hardly looming over him, it's more like they're waiting for him - like one may wait for an old friend. It could be a trick of course, he muses as he walks over to where Death is sitting, then again it feels like the two of them could have met many, many times before and in much worse situations than this. So who is Jaskier to question Death?

The closer he gets the more he is able to take in. They're tall - taller than anyone he's met before, Jaskier thinks - and incredibly pretty. Not in the perfectly manicured kind of pretty, like some of the most beautiful darlings at court tend to be. No, Death carries a natural loveliness that can only be found and never created, like a special constellation of freckles, an off-center nose, or a small gap between your teeth. Death is everyone Jaskier ever sung of combined in one person, which makes him wonder if they always look like this or if they changed their appearance to please Jaskier's eyes specifically. If the latter, he'd surely feel flattered.

"Come sit with me, sweetheart," Death says and Jaskier is delighted to hear their voice. It's a very nice voice. He wants to hear Death laugh, he realizes as he sinks down next to them on the grass. Their eyes meet his and Death sends him the kindest smile, "It's been a while since I've seen you, sweetheart, I'm glad to see you happy and healthy." Jaskier grins, because what a funny thing for Death to say, but he can hear the honesty in their words. "Oh you know, just the usual aches and pains of my slowly progressing age. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before, I'm sure," Jaskier happily chatters back in the same familiar tone. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He asks and reaches for his pack. Might as well take his lunch break now, while the fruit he bought earlier this day are still fresh. Death answers his question with an agreeing hum and oh yes, Jaskier might just fall in love with them right then and there.

He focuses on his lunch and wills his foolish heart to calm. "Would you like some?" he asks Death, because his Mama raised him well and eating alone is never quite as enjoyable as sharing a meal. Death looks at him with amusement in their eyes. "I can not eat, but I appreciate the gesture."

Jaskier sighs, "What a pity."

"A small price to pay for a life like mine."

"You're alive?"

"I am here, am I not?"

He looks at Death wide eyed, a hundred thoughts stumbling through his mind at the same time. "I have so many questions."

"And I have a favor to ask of you, sweetheart," Death retords not unkindly. Throughout their short conversation the amusement never quite left their eyes and while Jaskier would normally feel patronized by such a look he somehow knows that Death is simply enjoying his company.

"Are we doing this right? Doesn't this whole asking for a favor thing usually go the other way around?" Death laughs and Jaskier's heart does a little jump, his fingers itch to write a new song. "You read too much, sweetheart."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as reading too much."

"The words of a scholar and a poet."

"At your service."

"Of course. I always get what I want," Death says knowingly, shoving yet another metaphorical box of Pontar towards Jaskier. Lucky for him he has long since learned to not think about these kind of things too much. It does feel a little bit like Death tricked him, though he loves a good repartee. "I have to admit, I am curious indeed. What could I possibly offer to you?"

Death turns their head away from him, looking at the dog in deep consideration. "I need..." Death pauses and Jaskier almost wants to think of it in a hesitant way, "to win a bet." The bard's shoulders drop immediately. "Ah," he says, because the hesitation now starts to make sense. Surely Death must know this of him. "I don't do bets, I'm afraid. It never ends well for the poets caught in between."

"I know," Death agrees easily and not very reassuringly, as a matter of fact. "But I am in need of a song. A song to bring the gods to tears and neither can I write nor sing. What I can do, is offer you my protection."

Jaskier's mind floods with thoughts.

Protection from Death.

The two of them stare into each other's eyes, the world around them timeless, everlasting. Finally, it is Jaskier who breaks the contact and returns to his bundle of food. He bites into a fruit, it's sweet juices run down his chin and drip onto his chemise. "I will make the gods weep," he declares and watches Death smile full of warmth.

[zarvasace]

I’ve been meaning to read your disability au for awhile now and was finally able to start it today! I love it so much!!!!

One thing I’m specifically super excited to see is that Legend has RRMS since my aunt has MS and this is the first time I’ve seen a character written with it! It’s so exciting to see it in a fic!

Thank you so much for writing this au!

Aaaah thank you so much!! Yeah, I honestly don't think I've ever seen a character in fiction with MS specifically, and I don't know if I've seen one with any sort of chronic pain... I'm sure I must have run into something, but huh. It makes it a bit more difficult to write, not having any examples, but I'm doing my best. :)

also I wrote a thing, inspired by this and what today was like:

Naptime

gen, Legend & Sky, 551 words, no warnings. AO3 link here!

Legend would be annoyed, except being annoyed sounds like too much work at the moment.

---

Legend would be annoyed, except being annoyed sounds like too much work at the moment. He can't think of a single thing he's done recently that would make him this tired. They've been taking a rather scenic route through Wild's beautiful world (every route in Wild's world is the scene route, in every sense of the term), and the hills have been nothing short of gentle. His appetite has been a bit lackluster in the last few days, admittedly, but it hasn't been that bad. Certainly nothing to act like this. 

Well. His body keeps proving it hates him. The feeling is quite mutual. 

Today, Legend mostly just feels stiff. There's pain, of course, there always is, but nothing out of the ordinary. The temperature is mild, not cold enough to make him shiver and not hot enough to make his joints creak. He wouldn't be leaning on his cane much, except for the fact that his eyes want to close after every other step. 

When Time stops them for lunch, Legend eyes the distance between himself and the tree that Sky is claiming as the nap spot. It's kind of long, but the grass there looks comfortable, so Legend heads over there. He thinks someone asks him something, but he's a bit too focused on not falling asleep yet to really hear, much less answer. 

Sky leans up against the trunk of the tree, and gives Legend a short wave. Legend lifts his free hand to offer back the world's limpest wave. He uses his cane to lower himself to the ground, careful not to overbalance, then falls onto his back and stretches his legs out. 

He was right. The grass here in the tree's dappled shade is springy and soft, a far cry from the spiky shrubs in Legend's own world. 

"Tired?" Sky asks, his voice perhaps just a touch too loud for the situation. 

Legend is, in fact, tired, so he just nods. 

"You could ride in the cart, you know."

The cart is new. Legend is grateful for it. But he doesn't need it. Besides… Wind's been riding all day, and Hyrule has been joining him on occasion. 

He lifts his hands to sign, not even bothering to speak. If his signs right now were words, he'd be slurring them. 'It's a bit full right now.'

"Even still, there's room for you, I bet, if you need it." Sky sounds so kind. 

'What I need is a nap. I'm fine. Thanks for asking.' Legend lets his arms fall to the sides, and feels Sky pat his hand once or twice before pulling back. 

A breeze ruffles the broad leaves far above Legend's head, broken by a cloudy gray sky and muffled sunshine. Laughter drifts in over the buzzing of bees in the nearby patch of wildflowers, and Legend can vaguely smell smoke as Wild gets a fire going. Hm. He doesn't usually cook for lunch, it's more likely to be cold leftovers or just raw fruits and vegetables. Perhaps they intend to camp here for the night. That would be nice, but Legend's a bit worried about getting to the town on time. 

…well, he's a touch too tired to be that worried about it. 

He's just going to nap here. It's nice to not battle gravity. 

[dionysiospsychas-photography]

DOWNTOWN ALLEYS PHOTO WALK

… Hello photogs and photography admirers, and a good midsummer to you. Here in Vancouver, the spring blooms of the cherry, plum, and magnolias trees have been bursting and some are still flashing. And we've had nice breezes, so it's been pleasant, so far. That is until the burning lamp in the sky has its season and bores a hole in our foreheads. But, that's just my feeling. I do have a ball cap, a high SPF sunscreen for my delicate skin, and a water bottle to fill with ice, so that should be adequate. However, I haven't read the latest in climate apocalypse tips and tricks.

Still, it will be nice to siesta under the shade of a tree, with the sunbeams filtering thru the ample leaves and marking the grass and pavement with swaying dapples of light. Yeah, that's pretty cool.

Okay, let's get to something grittier and cooler. This photo walk was part of the Capture Photography Festival 2024 events; my third time participating. And this year, I wanted to lead photogs thru some of my favourite alleys in Downtown Vancouver.

I decided on this route for a couple of reasons. Firstly, experiencing and sharing photography as a group was apt for the festival. Photography is an extraordinary way to view the world about us — to observe it, examine it, appreciate it — and share our point of views with others. Secondly, alleys really are cool! Alleys are great subjects for photography, because — unlike the "public", alluring street side — they are public spaces where we can view the "private" side of houses and shops, which are practical, unpretentious, and style is secondary. These rear spaces can be coolly disorganized, patched up, and justifiably messy. Altho they don't include "beautiful" things, they offer interesting things and scenes to capture with our cameras. So, I expected that we would converse, share what we see and find, and show each other something we've never seen before.

And our photo walk was all that and a lot of fun. Well… the sky was clear blue and so the Sun beamed down on us, but it was a breezy, pleasant morning. Never mind me and my clear-sky phobia. And you'll see in the photos below, there was cool shadow play and glinting surfaces.

The photogs were enthusiastic, positive, and enjoyed exploring the built-up, canyon-like alleys. And they were clean too! Revisiting these alleys for the nth time was still photographically fun for me. And it felt that the photo-cats found them fascinating. Some went ahead and explored around corners or lingered behind I bet because of some curious object, as photo-cats do. They also shared about the things they found interesting like neatly organized piping, overlapping building facades, multi-layered paint, vegetation growing out of surprising spots, hilarious signs, colour fields, decades of bricklaying, and satisfactorily weathered and grimy surfaces. And that was intriguing to others who then attempted to make their own photo.

There were also alluring people for those who liked to photograph seemingly interesting-looking people. Anyway…

It was inspiring to see the photogs go at it. That's why it's good to go out exploring and photographing with friends. I totally recommend it. And I think that the photos below show their particular perspective and distinctive styling of wonderful things and scenes un-noticed or forgotten. And… that's why photography is so cool.

We caught up with our regulars and got to know newcomers, their motivations for photographing, and their art projects.

Above, the second attempt at a group photo with the fun cats. Thank you much again to (back row, L to R) Anne, John, Don, Colin, Brooke, Diane, Chris, James, Carol, (front row, L to R) Jaiden, Sharon, and Grace for joining our walk and a fun morning photographing. So reader, view their cool photos below, and click on the pic to see a larger version.

Photo by Brooke McAllister @brookabrooke

Photo by Brooke McAllister @brookabrooke

Photos (left) Ice Castles and (right) Urban Blend by Carol How @carol_how

Photo Urban Legends by Carol How @carol_how

Photo Graffiti Wall by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography

Photo Girl, Walking by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography

Photos (left) Quadrant by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography and (right) The 515 by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photo Forbidden Places by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photo Yes, That Would Be a Hard NO by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photos by your photo walk host Dionysios @thephotogeniccity

Photo by your photo walk host again Dionysios @thephotogeniccity

Photo by Diane @ diane.km

Photos by Diane @ diane.km

Photos by Don Janus @donsprojects

Photo by Don Janus @donsprojects

Photo Urban Windows by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photo Pop Goes the Color by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photo The Secret Life of Pungence by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photos by Jaiden Su @kinnieey

Photos by James Houston @ jameshouston.arts

Photos (left) by James Houston @ jameshouston.arts and (right) by John Macmillan @ mac1054

Photos by John Macmillan @ mac1054

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Lastly, the first attempt at a group photo with some lost photo cats.

Play closing theme song...

There is pleasure in photographing with others, as we converse about this, that and photography, share about the interesting things we observe, and inspire each other. So, to join us on our fun photo walks, please subscribe to my newsletter to receive the event announcements.

It is my hope that these photo walk experiences will inspire you to keep exploring your city and natural locales. So, from your friendly photo walk guide, thank you for reading, et à la prochaine!

So, how about you; do you like to explore alleys? Send me an email and tell me what you think.

DP, 2024-05-05

Are you getting value out of the photo walks and the blog? If so, you can help support these by telling your friends or thru Buy Me a Coffee. Think of it as a tip jar and an easy way to say thanks. Thank you for your support, I sincerely appreciate it! Merci beacoup!

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 11

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I am not from the US and I've only been in New York once when I was a kid (I don't remember much lol I was six, I think), so I apologize if some of the places are inaccurate but I tried my very best to do my own research. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters I've written and I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first whisper of the Monday air, brushed among the streets of the Upper West Side as you and Bucky decided to grab your running shoes and spend this day outside in the open air, hoping to burn all the calories you consumed last night. With a bottle of water in both your hands, you reached Central Park, catching your breaths. With sweat dripping down your forehead to your eyes, you saw a vacant bench and took the liberty to sit on it with Bucky behind you.

"Do you," Bucky sat beside you, panting and squinting his eyes and shaking off the sweat on his face, "do you run everyday?"

"Not everyday." You chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Four times a week."

"Why do you even like running? I feel like I'm in hell." He sighed, resting his neck on the brace. His breathing was restless and uneven but soon calmed down after a few moments.

"It takes my mind off things. I got a lot going on up here, y'know." You replied with much honesty. "Other people do it to keep in shape but I do it because I need it."

"I've never considered running. I just go to the gym and lift weights. Well, I have my own gym but if I'm being honest with you, I've been slacking off since the day I got here in New York."

You smiled and lifted your eyes to look at him. His face was glistening under the bright morning sun.

"Maybe it's a good thing we ran today." You nudged his shoulder with yours, his sweat-drenched skin rubbing up against your own. "You should run more. The more you do, the less you'll hate it. Trust me."

"You know what, as long as I'm with you, I will." He chuckled. "Ain't running with anybody else but you, doll."

There was a warm sensation moving up towards your cheeks. You didn't know if it was the heat of the sun or the warm blood rushing in but either way, you just knew that a pink flourish was becoming visible on your cheeks.

During that moment all you could muster was: "S-sure."

You hid your face by facing the opposite of Bucky and looked at the crowd that Central Park held. There, across the field lay a dozen picnic blankets on the bright green grass where a bunch of families and couples were reading, eating and talking audibly. Some were sitting underneath the tree for some shade. Some were walking their dogs on a leash and a poop bag ready on hand. Some were tourists with heavy backpacks just walking around. The chirping birds soaring in the air grabbed my attention, making you look up at the sky in which the bright sun hurt your eyes. You closed your eyes after that, trying to regain most of your vision. Once you did, you opened your phone and checked if Peter had left any messages. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

Peter was very vague about where his corporate retreat was, sticking to his notion that in order for him to take his mind off things, he also needed to be away from his real world, whatever that meant.

You sighed, texting Peter anyway, telling him everything was fine and that Bucky had been with you ever since he went away. You asked him how he was and hoped that everything was fine and well, and that he was enjoying his corporate retreat.

"Hey, let me take you somewhere nice today." Bucky said while tapping your sweaty shoulder, making you look up from your phone.

"Why? Where are we going?"

Bucky stood up, typing on his phone and looking around the park. "Wherever my car takes us. I figured since the bar doesn't open on Monday, you and I could do something fun that'll help you relax. Come on, you can go shower in my penthouse. I already have clothes sorted out for you in the guest room."

Your mind was still processing the part where he said that you could go shower in his penthouse.

Confused, you asked. "Wait, now?"

"Yes. Now, get up on your feet. My car's waiting on the road."

He didn't give you much time to comprehend his words, and respond, as he grabbed your hand, pulled you up from the bench. And as you ran, hand in hand, amidst the crowd, there it was again, that after feeling of spontaneity, fleeting; that same feeling you couldn't seem to explain really well — that same feeling you were wishing to avoid.

You and Bucky jogged towards the streets where a black and white Maserati with fully tinted windows was waiting on the side of the street. You thanked Bucky as he opened the door for you. He gave you a cheeky smile in response then hopped in beside you, introducing you to the driver named Howard. Howard nodded his head and smiled at you through the rearview mirror.

Once the car revved forward, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, weary that your sweat was getting all over the expensive leathered seats of Bucky's car. You moved a bit forward in an oh-so-subtle movement, pushing your body against the strap of the seatbelt across your chest and did your best as you could to avoid sweating all over the seats. With one strong swift move, Bucky pulled your arm back, throwing your back against the seat and told you to relax.

You greeted Leonard with a smile and a wave once you arrived in White Wolf. You and Bucky exchanged some small conversation in the elevator which led right into the penthouse, something about the last time you were here. You both laughed at the memory as you teased him about it.

The penthouse didn't change as much the last time you were here; the only difference was there was no woman with little to no clothing waiting for Bucky to arrive. You looked towards the huge glass windows, your lips curved downward as you were hoping to get a good view of New York that was hiding behind the draped curtains. Bucky led the way towards the guest room in a well-lit hallway on the second floor. You walked under little chandeliers hanging from above. On the walls were duplicate Van Gogh paintings, and framed photographs of nature that blended well with the color scheme of the paintings, as well as the penthouse.

"I picked out some clothes for you that I thought you might like and had my assistant bring them over here." Bucky said, opening the door.

Feeling a bit guilty, you said: "Bucky, you didn't have to."

"I insist. Besides, I'm in charge of you for the whole week." He smiled, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"I'm older than you so you do what I tell you." He just dismissed your remark, and added: "Now go shower. I'll meet you downstairs for some brunch."

With that, Bucky closed the door behind him, leaving you in a state of awe as you looked around the guest room which was twice as big as your room. It was like a duplicate of the living room but smaller, and with a king-sized bed in the middle on the far back with clothes and some towels draped along the edge. A telescope stands near the glass walls. Beside it sits two dainty cushioned chairs, and a miniature coffee table. There was a flat screen 32-inch television facing the bed.

You walked near the curtains, slithered your finger between the noticeable gap and took a small peek outside.

You stepped into the insides of the bathroom which was near the size of your room. Everything felt so unfamiliar to you but you bathed everything in and relaxed as soon as the small prickle of the cold shower water hit the soft spots of your body.

You got out of the guest room, feeling fresh from the cold shower. You wore some cropped halter top, heathered trousers and slipped on some fuzzy slippers that were quite big for your size, even though your feet were already big. You quickly assumed it was Bucky's.

"Did you, by any chance, get me some shoes too?" You joked as you approached the kitchen, eyeing the bagels on a big plate on the rectangular island in the center. You hopped on one of the high stools, grabbed one and smeared cream cheese on it. "Just kidding, I love these fuzzy slippers."

Bucky's back was facing you, busy flipping some pancakes on the stove. "You're not wearing that outside. And yes, I do have some but they're mostly Peter's. Don't worry he hasn't used them yet."

"That's alright. We're the same size."

Bucky turned around, a big pan on his right hand. He approached you and flipped a pancake on top of a tower of pancakes on a plate.

"You like the clothes I picked out for you?" He asked and sat down on the high stool.

"Yes, thank you. But seriously, you didn't have to."

"Okay, so let me get this straight... You let me pay for food and alcohol but not clothes?"

You laughed. "It's a different thing! Those were cheap, these," you touched the fabric of your shirt and trousers, "are obviously expensive. They don't have that thrift smell my clothes have. And besides, I need food but not clothes so you paying for my food was a big win for me."

Now, it was his turn to laugh, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Okay from now on, all I should hear from you when I give you stuff is thank you."

"But... why?"

"Because social convention dictates us to."

"I know, but, why are you giving me stuff?"

"How else am I going to keep you around?" He winked as he continued to chew.

"Bucky." You warned.

"Okay, okay." He chuckled. "The thing to know about me is I love spoiling people — people that I trust and I'm obviously comfortable around you."

Not knowing any other way to answer, you just said: "Oh, well... Thank you."

"And of course, the thing I said before too." He laughed and you threw a bagel at him in response.

You and Bucky enjoyed your little brunch while planning the day ahead of you: go around Fifth Street, and perhaps Broadway, maybe go to the Chelsea market and as Bucky said: "Just go wherever our feet take us!"

Once both of you were done, you headed down White Wolf, with Bucky's Maserati waiting in front. You greeted Howard as you climbed in.

"You know what would be nice?" You started once the car moved forward. "Capturing people's moments in a crowded street." You said, picturing Fifth Street in your head.

"Oh, that's right." Bucky replied. "Here." With his large hand, he handed you a camera. But it wasn't just any camera. It was yours.

"Wait, is this my camera?" You asked, taking it from him. He nodded in response. "Bucky, what the hell, you went through my stuff?"

"Not me. Howard."

"Howard?!"

"Don't worry, miss," Howard spoke, glancing through the rearview mirror where you saw your own reflection, "I didn't take anything else and put everything back in place. I just did what Mr. Barnes told me to do."

"James." You scolded.

"What are you James-ing me for?" He said, leaning against the seat, clearly stifling a laugh. "He's the one who went through your stuff!"

"You are such a child." You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who told him to."

"You heard him, he didn't take anything else."

"Next time you pull something like this, you ought to let me know okay?"

He lifted his eyes to look at you, teeth biting his inner cheek, a smile wanting to reveal itself. "Okay."

You sighed but you also couldn't help but smile at your camera. It had been a long time since you've operated it as you have been so busy in the bar and hadn't had clients for a while now. You closed it immediately, seeing as the battery was just at fifty percent.

You and Bucky got out of the vehicle as soon as Howard reached Fifth street and entered the Lacoste building with no rush. You held your camera close to your chest, the strap feeling a bit heavier on the back of your neck as the hours passed but the weight of pleasure of taking photos of the street from the inside of the glass windows overwhelmed that.

All the stores looked so unfamiliar to you. The stores you usually go to had dimly-lit rooms with low ceilings, and instead of tiled floors and walls, they had chipped to almost rotten wood walls. The smell of new clothes in these designer stores filled your lungs, the bright incandescent lights nearly caused blindness to your eyes, the amount of men and women dressed in suits, stockings, and skirts were nothing you had ever seen before, designer clothes were hanging on racks color-codedly, or by season, or by new and old collection, the eyes of the security guards in each entrance lurked from miles away until you get inside the store, and today, you have seen Bucky's sleek, black credit card get swiped into the little machines a hundred times. He bought some clothes for himself, and Peter, whom he actually promised to.

Bucky even handed you some clothes, told you to put them on and when they did fit you, he immediately went towards the counter.

Feeling as if everything was too much, you refused but all he said was:

"From now on, when I buy you things all you have to say is thank you."

Overpowered, you just nodded and said exactly what he wanted you to say: "Thank you." And as hours passed more shopping bags were in my bags (yes, you insisted to carry what he had bought you, and when he refused, you gave him back his words, a little taste of his own medicine: "From now on, when you buy me things all you have to do is let me carry them.")

"Ah, throwing my words back to me. I see."

As you walked around a whole lot more, side by side, exposed elbows and lonely fingers constantly brushing against each other, you talked about things you both loved. Nothing about Bucky's hotel business, nothing about the bar, just the things in life which made you both happy — photographs, paintings, and everything about art. He saw the world through yours. You were just beginning to see his but the details weren't enough for you. You craved more of what was in his mind and in his life — no, not the business, parties, booze and all that.

But the things that separate him from that world, and the things he grew up with before that.

A lot of questions swarmed in your head, trying to think of ways to ask them but Bucky merely insisted on knowing you. All of you. But just like him, you too had your guards up, especially around your family issues.

Then you reached Chelsea market. You didn't know how but you did. You spotted Bucky's car parked on one street and told you to leave all the things he had bought inside. After saying your goodbye to Howard who, afterwards, drove towards the bumper-to-bumper traffic in Manhattan, you and Bucky headed to wherever your feet you. You were feeling a ton lighter without the shopping bags dragging your hands and you could now freely touch and open your camera.

Bucky, with a Grande Starbucks cup in one hand, looked around with a big smile planted on his face. You walked around, seeing the art district of New York through your lenses. You grabbed Bucky's attention by calling his name and when he turned around, you snapped a shot of him. Eyes wide. Brows furrowed together. Lips in a state of bafflement.

"Hey, delete that!" He protested.

You laughed, turning your body in the opposite direction. "No way! It's a good picture!"

"No, it's not!"

You kept on laughing, mumbling a bunch of "sorry"s and "excuse me"s along the way, the camera still shoved in your face.

Your lens caught a familiar name from afar, printed in neon red: Wanda. You stood there in the middle of the crowd, leaving Bucky to wonder what had happened.

"Let's go there." You said, making your way across the street where it was.

"Where?"

"Just follow me."

Bucky held no questions no more as your feet treaded towards the building of Wanda's studio. Once you reached it, you merely stood meters away from it, looking at the sign.

"Wandavision." You mumbled under your breath then bit your inner cheek afterwards, contemplating if you should go in and say hi but that didn't matter anymore because standing behind the tall glass windows was Wanda herself.

Again, she gave you that oh-so-sweet smile of hers, long red locks cascading down her shoulder as she walked towards the door. You gestured to Bucky to come with you, no questions asked.

"Y/n!" Wanda exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you as you and Bucky entered the building. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

"You too, Wanda."

"And who's this dapper man of yours?"

Beside you, Bucky's body vibrated, a chuckle coming out of his mouth as he offered his hand. "I'm Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you."

Wanda shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too." She gave you a knowing smile, taunting you, but you dismissed her assumptions by shaking your head no, and then she pouted.

Wanda led you further down her large, wide studio, giving us a tour.

"I'm quite surprised you came by, Y/n."

"We were just walking around the market and saw your studio." You replied. "Wanda, what you have here is... so beautiful."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that. I've wanted this since I was a little girl. It's always been the dream."

The inside was bright, with fair white walls, floor and ceiling, and smelled of fresh lavender. On one corner, it smelled of fabrics, make-up, and hairspray. Framed photos of Wanda hung on the walls. There was a dressing area on a corner, and a comfortable couch, perhaps, for visitors as well as the models. A mini kitchen stood in the far back. On top of the cute marbled island was a coffee maker, and a mini fridge. There was one room solely for the post-production process, her main office. A giant paper backdrop had taken a huge space on the floor. Around it were different kinds of large lights, tripods, chairs and other expensive equipment for photography.

She had it all. Everything you've pictured yourself having.

Wanda had it all.

"You've come at the right time. There's not much going on today but I have tons of clients coming for the next few days but really, feel free to come by anytime you want."

"I will, thank you."

Howard picked you right up outside Wandavision. The whole ride was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"Your friend's really nice." Bucky said, trying to clear the atmosphere. "She's a bit too chatty for me but she's nice."

"Yeah." You answered, your head pressed against the window. "Really nice."

"Are you okay, doll?"

You hummed. "I am. Just a bit tired s'all."

"Listen, I just have to head to the White Wolf but Howard will drop you by the apartment, okay? The shopping bags are already there but you don't have to worry about them, I'll take care of them as soon as I get back. Just take a rest, okay? Maybe a short nap. I'll grab you dinner on the way. How does that sound?"

Tired to even tell him you didn't need to babied, you just said: "Okay. Thank you, Bucky."

You did as Bucky told you to. You ignored the bags sitting on the couch, placed your camera on your nightstand and took a damn nap. When you woke up, instead of feeling better, you felt sick to your stomach. Your phone lit up, a message from Bucky displayed on the screen:

"Sorry for the delay. I'm currently stuck in traffic. I'll see you in 20."

You sighed and with an empty stomach, and an occupied mind, you put on your jacket, anticipating a cold rush, grabbed your keys to the bar and headed down. You went straight behind the counter, jumped over it and found an unopened vodka.

You drank the vodka, drank all your troubles away and as you sat there on the floor, weeping, the place you worked at felt too much familiar to you. So much so that you began to hate it and to hate the kind of life you had been living. Who were you fucking kidding? No, you didn't like juggling two jobs. It sucked. Even though it had been giving you the ability to pay half of the rent, it still sucked.

This wasn't what you wanted.

A few moments have passed. You were already on your second bottle. There was a sound coming from the back which began to startle you. A certain Steve emerged from his office, a look of concern evident on his face.

"Stevieeee!" You stood up, well, tried to anyway. "You're here!"

"Y/n, what the hell." He took you in his big muscular arms, his one hand carefully yanking the bottle of vodka on your hand and placing it on the counter. "You're drunk. You should go home. Where's Peter?"

"He's away. He left. Wait, why are you here?"

"I just had to take care of some things."

"Is Nat back there with you? It's okay, shh, shh, I know about you too."

"Oh, God. Did she tell you?"

"Puh-lease! You imprinted your scent on her like a werewolf."

He just sighed. "Let's get you to your apartment."

"Don't worry, Stevie, I won't tell. Hey, call Bucky. Grab my phone. It's on my ass." You giggled and then hiccuped. He carefully grabbed your phone from your back pocket, let you enter my password which took forever, and then called Bucky.

"He'll be here in a minute or two." Steve said, sliding your phone back in your pocket. "Let's get you seated, alright?"

He sat you in one of the booths. "I'll get you some water, okay?"

You didn't respond. Your eyes were fixated on the photos on the wall. With your breath rapidly increasing, you stood by your knees, and grabbed as many photos as you could. Steve slid in the booth with you, handing you a glass of water. You took a small sip, avoiding his eyes.

"What happened, y/n?"

You didn't give him an answer to his question and just downed the water. But you did ask him something. "Why'd you buy my photos, Steve? Is it because you pitied me that day?"

"What? No, I truly believe you have amazing photos."

"But what?"

"What?"

"There's always a but. What is it, Steve?"

"But nothing, y/n."

"Liar." You muttered. "You're a liar."

"Look, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I don't need help. I'm not a child!"

"You clearly are, especially when you're behaving like one. You come in here, drink an expensive bottle of whiskey, cry on the floor and ask me a bunch of ridiculous things. It's okay to ask for help sometimes."

"I'll pay for the bottle if that's what you're asking."

"No, I don't care about that. I care about what's going on with you right now because this isn't you, y/n."

"Oh please, you don't. You just pity me! That's why you bought those two photos, that's why you let me put my photos up here in the bar. I'm no good, Steve! I'm no good."

"Y/n — "

Then, a door slammed, a running Bucky coming inside. "Hey, doll. I'm here. Hey, hey, what happened?"

"Let's just go, Bucky." You stood up beside Bucky who held your waist for balance.

"Thank you for calling me." Bucky told Steve.

"Just take her home safely."

"I live right upstairs." You groaned.

"And make sure she doesn't drink anymore or do anything stupid." Steve scolded, his eyes locked on yours.

Bucky held you all the way towards the outside of the bar, and guided you towards the steps that led to the sidewalk. A black limo was on the street. With the windows rolled down, Howard asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?"

"Everything's okay, Howie. You can go back now."

"Wait!" You exclaimed, slipping away from Bucky's arms and headed towards the limo. "Howard, take us somewhere."

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You didn't give him time to wait for an answer as you opened the door and climbed inside the spacious limo. Bucky climbed in, confused.

"Y/n, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

You gave no answer, instead, you gave Howard the address. "450 West 15th Street."

The ride was more silent and shorter. He tried offering you food he had bought but you kindly refused, dreading to get out of the limo. You held on to your photos so tight that marks, scratches and folds were visible even in the dark.

When you reached your destination, you quickly hopped out, with Bucky following you.

"What are we doing back here?"

You were standing in front of Wanda's studio, the red neon lights illuminating on the concrete street, giving a bit of life on this side of New York.

You sat down on the floor, against a big pot of plant, your eyes never leaving the sign. Bucky, still confused, followed suit anyway.

"You know, my parents told me I'd never make it here. The day I left my home to live here, they told me, 'you'll never amount to anything. You'll never have a good life in New York. You'll never make it as a photographer. That's not a real job.' And I told them I will make it that I'll work my ass off, blood, sweat, tears, I'll do anything to prove them wrong. But don't you just hate it when they're right? I left my family, lost my communication to my siblings for this ridiculous dream I've been chasing for years. Everything I've done here feels like nothing."

At this point, you didn't want to hear anything or anyone besides yourself. So you were more than glad to hear nothing from Bucky, and to feel his fingers interlaced with yours.

"Wanda and I met in college; a year younger than me. We shared a love for photography and arts. Then we kind of just lost touch after I graduated. And then I saw her a week ago. She looked so happy and so content and I could feel her pity on me, her eyes, her touch. It was the first time I felt so small and I didn't think I could feel smaller but then we went here. Everything I wanted for myself, the things I pictured myself having and doing... She's living it. She's out there and I'm not. And I really hoped that by now, I've proved my parents wrong but turns out they're right. They were right all along. I don't amount to anything. I'm nothing."

"Wandavision." You laughed bitterly. "Wanda's vision. That right there. That's fucking clever."

"Let's get you home, doll. Please?"

"I want to stay, Bucky."

"We'll talk when we get back. Please, y/n."

You didn't agree to anything but he lifted you up anyway, guiding you towards the limo which was still on the street.

The partition was up. Even though Howard was inside the limo as well, at that moment it was just you and Bucky.

So, you cried, like how the skies cried, in Bucky's arms. You wept for all the unpaid rent and debts, for the menial job that you ended up in, for your failed career as a photographer, for your selfish parents, for your isolation from your college friends, for your insecurities, for your dog that died when you left for college, for your former lover that abused you, for the books you left unread, for all the wrong choices, for all the money you wasted during your college days, for all the toxic people you've ever met, for all the alcohol stains you had to wipe for years, for all the food intake during your peak of stress in school, for the only cherries you tasted, for the drunk sex you've always regretted, for the drunk kiss with Peter you've always regretted, and for the incoming mistake you were about to do.

"Kiss me." You whispered, lifting your head from his chest. "Kiss me, Bucky."

He shook his head no. Your noses touched. "Why not?" Your breaths moved together.

"Because right now, you're a mess." He whispered. "You're very vulnerable and drunk. I can't."

"I'm giving you all the consent I need. Kiss me."

"Not like this, doll."

Instead of going for your dry lips, he placed his lips on your forehead, his mouth and breath lingering. "Not like this."

[animalarte]

When Elizabeth and Meliodas first met (part 1)

Hi! I decided I wanted to make an English version of this fanfic 'cause many of you don't speak in Spanish (even if not many end up reading it).

Spanish version here (the second part in Spanish is linked to it)

I'm rewriting everything myself so there may be some different things from the Spanish version, but the idea will be the same. I'll be posting both the new chapter and the English version of the previous one in the same week (more or less, if nothing gets in the way) so let's see where this takes us.

Part 2 - part 3

Wandering through the vast lands of Britain, the demon ended up there once again. He had just told his brother to take the army back to the kingdom, while he cleared his mind.

War was hell. The constant suffering and death was getting the best of him, and if he didn't cool out, it would drive him mad. This place, hidden from the rest of the world, was his special spot, the only place where he could relax. It was a clearing in a very dense forest, with a natural leaf roof that only let the light from the sun and moon go through. The trees were so tangled, only something less than a meter tall could cross.

All his life, Meliodas had lived under the protection of his father in the Demon Realm. There, the light form the goddesses could not reach, and the miasma allowed a good development for the little ones. Before the war, demons and goddesses always hated each other. It was their nature. But their leaders kept a non-violence truce in order to prevent a mayor bloodshed and probable continent degradation. But it had been broken. He could still remember that night, when it all changed. Most people didn't know about it, everyone thought the demons had started the war. But it wasn't true. There was no point in complaining now, though. So many had died from both sides that it wouldn't stop, even if the truth was revealed. Specially the Demon King, his father, would never back down. Since that night, he hadn't been himself. He didn't care if his people died or lived through the battles. He seemed to have forgotten his sons were just children, demanding them to become strong at a very young age, to go out there and kill the enemy without hesitation. Like they had the same motivations as him to fight. All the old king could think of, was getting his revenge on the Supreme Goddess. His little brother couldn't remember, he was too young when it happened, but he wouldn't forget it.

This place was the only reason he wasn't crazy like his father. The sound of the leaves and birds singing filling the wind. The warmth of the dimmed sun and the fact that no one came here, mad it the only site where war didn't exist. He had to hid it from others to keep it that way.

That day, he had fallen asleep on the high grass. It was so peaceful, all the stress of the last big battle just melted away. A fox curiously sniffing his hair woke him up. He sat to caress it, and saw her. A winged girl with silver hair was chilling not far from him. She was... so beautiful. Meliodas didn't understand how he had missed such a powerful source of magic so close to him, and why this goddess hadn't attacked him in his sleep. He hadn't realized he was staring until she opened her eyes, and gave back a smile as the fox ran into her arms and licked her cheek. Mel couldn't help the warmth that the scene gave him. That kind of happiness he had only experienced a few times in his life. He relaxed again.

-I didn't think I would find someone here. Do you come often?- She said with a sweet and calm voice. Mel had gotten unaccustomed to being talked like that, with no fear. He liked it.

-Any time I need a break. I had never seen you around- He'd had such a nice evening so far that his voice wasn't even the usual arrogant. And this goddess didn't seem mean either. He had no reason to be in the defensive.

-If I can get away of my bodyguards- Great, Meliodas thought, she's someone important. Sometime, I'll have to take care of her. -I love coming here. Is the only place I know without suffering. Sorry I didn't announce myself, you were sleeping so peacefully I couldn't bring myself to disturb you- Mel thought this must be some kind of joke. No goddess was like that. Her light was so intense, she couldn't be a regular one. But her magic wasn't the usual threatening. Instead it was gentile and cozy. He couldn't quite understand the feeling of being near her.

-Who are you- He asked with distrust.

-My name is Elizabeth- She said with no further explanation -And you? I barely realized you were a demon-

-I'm... Meliodas- He hesitated before revealing himself. Surely this goddess would attack him when she knew who he was. But she didn't even react with the name. Instead she smiled politely and began playing with the fox.

-Who knew that when demons sleep, their mark disappears? I don't usually get the chance to speak with your kind- She looked at him in the eyes, now black -What is your world like?- She seemed to be honestly asking. Mel couldn't find any indication that she was planning something or trying to get info out of him, so he decided to answer nicely.

-It's very different from this one. There is never this much light, and the miasma is part of the air. People live their life with their families, and children go wherever they want. Usually, the King makes sure they are all safe- He was describing what the kingdom used to be before the war with sincerity, though it couldn't be because of the girl's mental powers. He had trained specially to keep his mind strong and out of the goddesses reach.

-Don't families fight each other?- He looked at her strangely, before remembering how most of the world saw demons, like mindless monsters.

-Of course not. Each family is very united, and respect the others. Also they usually live far away from each other, since they all are adapted to different environments. Our King keeps everyone with a home, covering their needs. Interactions are only voluntary- He said. He was surprised Elizabeth was still listening. Usually no one cared for the demon's way of living.

-They are all so different?- She asked.

-Yeah. Only those related look alike- Eli thought of it for a minute. Then said:

-But I only saw a few different kinds of demons in the battlefield- Mel got a little disappointed. This girl participated in the war. She wasn't innocent, and probably had murdered many of his subjects with that bright light. He pushed the thought aside. He still didn't want the conversation to end.

-Those are just low-ranked soldiers. They can follow orders and fight, but don't have the comprehension to lead a life. In times of peace, they are usually adopted by the local families. They can feel love and fear, so they are considered our equals, though most of them can hardly make up a sentence-

-Aren't those considered as a lower class? And don't your differences divide you?- Meliodas knew where this wired ideas came from, but he decided to be patient with her.

-No. We all know what it is like to be rejected and hated by other races that consider us different in a negative way, so we have each other's back- He had almost forgotten how it was living among the other inhabitants of the Underworld. The children learned to act with others like they were all one big family, that had no prejudices and integrated everyone equally, even the servants and the princes. He used to be just like everyone else, feel part of something bigger. He hadn't realized how much he missed that, and he wondered if his home would be like that ever again. He got lost in thought, to find Elizabeth with a look of sadness.

-It must be heaven- She said. Mel knew she actually lived in heaven, so he didn't understand.

-What do you mean?- She took a deep breath.

-Where I come from, society is made of prejudices and first impressions. Social classes are identified by how perfect the goddess can be. It is a huge pressure, and many hide their despair before realizing they feel it. It's always been this way, it cannot be changed. But at the end of the day, I feel very lonely, like I don't know anybody and no one really knows me- For some reason, Meliodas couldn't bare to see her like this. The very thought made him sad, but he didn't know why or how to make it go away. All he knew, is that he was getting a little jealous on the fox that was now sleeping on Eli's lap, getting her to caress him under the chaw and behind the ears.

-I'm lonely too. Ever since the war began, all I did was train and fight. I never saw my friends again, I don't even know if they are still alive, and I find it very hard to get close to my only brother, who recently gave up on trying so talk to me- He found himself saying. As the words came out of his moth, his mind processed the truth within them. A tear came down his cheek before he could stop it -Killing and fighting all the time, even if you don't care for the other's life, can degrade someone's soul- His voice cracked for the first time in years, and though he was sad, he didn't want the moment to end. Because when it did, he would have to pretend not to feel anything again. The goddess sighted at him with sympathy, and said:

-You don't seem like the kind that would kill and wouldn't care. You're such a nice guy- Meliodas didn't think she could be talking about him. She had only known him for a few minutes. The fox got up and rubbed his fur on the demon's arm like proving her point.

-You're also nicer than most goddesses I know. They are all coldblooded- A little laugh came out of that depressed grin, at last.

-I know. They all follow the orders of our Goddess, the Supreme Deity. They also consider the demons as their absolute enemies, and think that killing them is nothing to be regretful for. Actually they celebrate it. I can't understand that- This girl was definitely something. It had been a long time since Mel last hoped for someone from an other race to say something of the sort, and he couldn't believe what he heard. He let the surprise and and amazement permeate his face. Then he looked up, and saw how late it had gotten. He was supposed to have returned by now.

He got up and looked back at Elizabeth one more time. -Will I find you here tomorrow?- She smiled at him.

-Sure- She said. He approached a hole in the branches, hidden from view but big enough for him to fit, and left.

[derelictlovefool]

One Minute More Love One Minute More

Summary: Hakon is searching for scrap when a familiar face shows up and interrupts.

Ship(s): Hakon/Nikolas Reeves

Words: 1,789

read on ao3! <3

The sun was high in the sky, signalling it was about midday. The sound of birds chirping and distant shouts filled the cool air, a light breeze swaying through the trees and grass. Torn cloth, ropes and other loose debris sway as a larger gust of wind goes through the city, creaking of old metal joining the cacophony of sounds. Hakon jumps off some questionably stable scaffolding onto a small brick building, landing with a small roll and a grunt. His muscles were aching, he'd been running all over the stupid city, following every stupid order Waltz gave from his radio. Currently he was looking for scrap material, anything really and he didn't care why or what it was for. He just wanted a moment to rest if he was being honest.

Luckily for him he finds a cache full of, to him, useless garbage, but who knew what it would be to his 'superior'. Hakon threw the scraps into his bag half hazardly, face twisting into a scowl as he mutters to himself, about Waltz, about himself, everything that was bugging him. He was sulking. Plain and simple. As he was doing more of lately, in his opinion he had a lot to sulk about. Even if a lot of it could be his own damn fault, that wasn't the point. He lightly curses under his breath as he feels himself getting more and more frustrated, finally putting the last piece of scrap into his bag and slamming the cache shut. He's lost in his own misery until a painfully familiar voice cuts through the air and interrupts him.

"Well look who it is, this your new spot or did I just get lucky?"

Hakon spins around so fast he almost trips,  brown eyes wide as he finds Nikolas standing on the other side of the small, overgrown roof. The smile on his face is far too warm and with the heat of the sun also beating down on him Hakon can feel himself melting. He wants to walk forward and hold the man in his arms, kiss him and apologise over and over again as many times as Nikolas would let him. But he knows he can't, he made his choice and he has to live with the consequences. Even if it's tearing his heart in two. He has to stay firm, he has to do this for Nikolas, for Lawan, for the both of them.

"Go home Nikolas, Lawan will put you on her list too if she finds out you were talking to me," He tries his best to sound cold and harsh but it's at best a lighthearted dismissal. Hakon stands, his bag in his now shaky hand as he decides whether he should make a run for it or just stick this out. 

"No she won't," Nikolas says, that ever present confidence bleeding off of him as he walks forward. Each step lined up perfectly with Hakon's heart beat and he resists the urge to meet him halfway.

"Go home anyway," He says, turning now so Nikolas couldn't see all the unspoken feelings swimming in his eyes. Or maybe so he couldn't see the ones burning in Nikolas'. He stares down at the bag in his hands, listening and waiting when he should have been walking away. He hears Nikolas let out a short huff of a laugh, the kind of thing he did when Hakon would annoy him but not enough to make him actually angry. It would have made Hakon smile if he weren't so busy internally wallowing.

"Sorry don't really feel like it, it's a nice day out and I'm enjoying the sun, you just happened to be on the right roof at the right time," He can hear Nikolas take a few steps away and when he steals a glance over his shoulder he sees him crossing his arms over his chest and looking off into the distance. Hakon's eyes trail over his strong shoulders, down to his thighs and calves. He looks good and it just makes Hakon more upset. God, knowing what was under the clothes didn't help either. When his gaze trails back up he meets Nikolas' eyes, amusement swirling in them and Hakon turns his head away quickly, running a hand through his short hair in frustration. Hearing the other man's chuckle only fuels his small bout of embarrassment.

"Well then I'll go find another roof so you can enjoy your sun," He huffs, taking a few heavy steps towards the opposite end of the roof.

"Wish you'd stay,"

He freezes. Hakon feels the weight behind Nikolas' words despite the casual way he says them. It's unfair, cruel almost. Hakon turns and meets the honey gold eyes he'd grown so fond of, watching patiently like they always did. Every time he looked into them they were always pleading him to stay, just for another minute. Always just one more minute. He sighs deeply, He could never say no to him. Not in all the time they'd known each other. He doesn't walk over to him, simply walks to the edge of the building and sits down in defeat, letting his legs hang off the side and he clasps his hands together in his lap, looking down at the streets with troubled eyes.

"You didn't just accidentally happen to be on the same roof as me Nikolas, I know you've been looking for me,"

"And you let me find you,"

Hakon wrings his hands together as Nikolas walks over to him, the hint of affection in his tone too much for Hakon to bear. Nikolas looks down at him in silence for a moment, hands on his hips before he sighs and lowers himself down to sit beside the man. Hakon looks at him with those puppy dog eyes of his, almost questioning why he wasn't just walking away, he wouldn't blame him for doing so after everything he'd done. But Nikolas wasn't one to hold a grudge, Hakon knew that deep down, and with the way Nikolas rests his temple against his shoulder he knows he hadn't given up on him. Even if Hakon thought he really should.

He really thought Nikolas should follow Lawan's example, put him on a hit list of his own, maybe they'd both feel better when he was finally dead. But Nikolas wasn't that type of person, he was soft, he could be hot headed and impulsive but when it came to Hakon and Lawan he'd never been anything but gentle and patient. It's like they'd always get a whole different Nikolas when they were together, and if Hakon really thought about it they were softer with him too. But that was in the past. Hakon didn't get to see those soft smiles and glimmering eyes anymore. Or he shouldn't, Nikolas never liked making things easy.

Heaving a heavy sigh Hakon let's his head fall against Nikolas' dark curls, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the closeness he had lost the right to. It's not like Waltz or his goons were around to see, he could let himself have this moment with one of his old lovers and not worry about him getting hurt. He'd just stay for one minute, just one. 

When the sky eventually changes to a deep orange Hakon knows he's overstayed his 'one minute'. Somehow he'd ended up on his back with Nikolas half laying on top of him, arms wrapped around each other with not a word spoken. Birds flutter through the sky above them and Hakon wishes he could stop time right here, his hands holding on a little tighter to the other man's shoulders. Nikolas looks up at him, those eyes of his so open and intense with their emotions. He knew, Hakon didn't have to say anything. He pushes himself up and allows Hakon to get up.

Hakon grabs his bag and stands, throwing it over his shoulder and walking away. He couldn't bear another goodbye or to look into those sorrowful eyes again. It was really all too much. He regretted letting himself get a taste of that domesticity again because now he just wanted to run away with Nikolas and not look back. But then of course he could never convince Lawan to go with them and she'd no doubt be in danger if he were gone. She was tough but Waltz was something else. Shaking the theoretical thoughts away Hakon steadies himself and puts one foot on the edge of the building, eyeing a place for him to jump down too.

"I'll be here tomorrow, and the day after that,"

Hakon stops at Nikolas's words, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall as he heaves yet another sigh. The clear invitation to see him again is all too clear and all too tempting. But he was already putting him in danger by being here, by doing what he just did. He was being selfish and if he came back he'd be risking Waltz finding out and taking it out on Nikolas. Or Lawan. He couldn't let that happen, but the underlying plea in Nikolas' words makes his heart twist so painfully. Knowing he missed him and was undoubtedly hurting left a sour taste in Hakon's mouth, he just kept proving to himself he never deserved either of them.

"Nikolas…" He begins, not really having a plan on what to say. He just knew he had to shut this down somehow. If he was able to. If he could. But Nikolas cuts him off before he can think of something even stupider to say.

"Not holding you at gunpoint, just would be nice to see you every now and then," Nikolas says, trying his best to sound nonchalant but Hakon had spent too much time with him and could see right through the act. This was as close to begging as he could get.

"I can't promise anything,"

"That's okay, I can." 

Hakon smiles, it's a morose smile but it's there. He could always count on Nikolas, no matter what. Even when he couldn't give the same guarantees in return. And now Nikolas was promising he'd be here and that only left it up to Hakon. Of course he wondered if he could pull it off, keep Waltz off his trail and sneak in weekly visits with one of the people most important to him. But the fear of losing him fizzled that thought, He couldn't risk it. And he couldn't find his voice to say that, but he supposed that in itself said enough. He jumped off of the roof without looking back; at least he got that one minute. It would have to be enough.

[1a-imagines]

A knights promise (part 2)

(Knight!Midoriya x reader)

↬Warnings: smut

↬Summary: After finally running away so you can be together, you find travelling isn't as easy or fun as you first thought. Luckily you have someone to take your mind off it.

↬A/n: This is day 18 of the Izumonth collab! You can find the collab post here.

This is a part 2 if you want to read part 1 you can find that here! But honestly, this one is mostly just smut so i guess you don’t really need to read part one. It just gives a bit more insight into their relationship and goals.

Also the art is mine, I'm really nervous to post my art, especially since its kinda old art and my style has changed a lot, so I don't love it. But I drew this awhile back and thought it would go well with this fic since its fantasy izuku. Anyway! Hope you enjoy ^^

↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬

You shuffled closer to Izuku's side, half hiding behind him, hoping his body would act as a shield against all the wildlife.

Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle at the way  your nose crinkled up at the new environment.

"Have the forests always been so-..." you paused thinking of the right word to say. "disgusting?” you asked as you stepped around yet another puddle of sludge. Your hands tightened around his arm. The forest was indeed a beautiful sight from the palace windows, but now you were trudging through mud and wet grass, your boots already caked in dirt, it wasn't as enchanting as you thought it would be.

Izuku gave your hands a light pat. “I know you’re not used to these conditions yet, but I think you're overreacting a bit, princess. It’s just a bit of mud.” He giggled at your sour expression. Truth be told he expected you would be a lot more enthusiastic about the whole situation, finally having freedom, getting to date him without worry, travelling to far off kingdoms and learning new things. You had always dreamed of such a life.

Though it seemed you never thought through the possibility that not everything would be easy and perfect.

"Still, had I have known it would've been this bad I would've brought bigger boots." You muttered. So far this whole 'adventuring' thing has had its ups and downs, like yesterday when you both found that hidden waterfall, the water was sparkling in the sun, vines the trees hung low to keep it hidden as flowers bloomed around the edge of the lake. It was lovely, you both got to splash around in the sun, make a campfire and sit under the stars when night came. It was amazing! One of the most beautiful nights of your life in fact. However, walking through blank fields filled with nothing but muddy sludge wasn't so magical.

A yelp escaped your throat when you were suddenly lifted into the air. You instinctively wrapped your arms around Izuku’s neck as he carried your bridal style. With raised eyebrows you turned to the man who held you in his arms. "What are you doing?" You asked Izuku who grinned in response, "The mud is bothering you right? And as your knight it's my job to protect you even from nature!" He declared, you couldn’t help but smile at him.

"You're not technically my knight anymore, I ran away, remember? So I'm not royalty." While his logic confused you, you weren't about to complain that you were his arms. "I'll always be your knight, royalty or not, I'm always going to protect you." His smile melted your heart, like the sun beaming down on an ice cream cone.

You pressed your flushed face into his shoulder, deciding not to reply. He looked so determined there was no way you would win this argument.

He carried you for hours, and with every step he took guilt stacked another brick onto your heart. Weren't you getting heavy for him. Surely he must be getting tired? He was strong, no doubt. He had trained sith the royal guards, as well as in his spare time, for years! But carrying another human in your arms for hours!? Even the strongest of men would tire eventually.

Catching your eyes he smiled at you, silently reassuring you that he was ok. You purse your lips in response, not believing him, you had already asked him countless times if he was tired, you had told him he could put you down whenever he wanted, but it seemed like he was pretty content with you in his arms.

The more he walked the denser the forest grew. It was a nice day, the sun's light caressing your skin in the best of ways, the breeze brought a refreshing chill every now and then, you could have fallen asleep in his arms then and there. "I don't think we're going to make it to the next down by sundown.." He muttered, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have carried me so far, we left the muddy field hours ago and you still won't put me down." You giggled, playfully poking his cheek with your finger. . He blinked, a blush coating his cheeks. "I-I just like holding you!"

He was indulging in the fact he no longer had to hide his love and affection for you, carrying his princess in his arms was just another way to show the outside world who you belonged to, despite having passed no people at all. It was more for his own satisfaction.

"There's a cave over there! We can rest there for tonight!" Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. Your finger pointed out to a lake with a waterfall. It was hard to see but there was a small, circular, opening in the rocks of the cliff. "Good find!" He smiled at you as you jumped from his arms and hurried towards the cave, you wanted to make sure it would be safe enough to sleep in tonight. Izuku pouted as you ran off, already missing the warmth your body provided.

He followed you into the cave, it wasn't big

but it was dry and would keep you hidden from the dangers the night brought. "This will do for tonight, from the looks of the clouds over the mountains it's going to rain soon and we don't want to be stuck outside when it does. That would mean more mud." He grinned at you, nudging you with his elbow. You flushed at the jab he made and turned your head away.

What a tease.

You both took off your bags and placed your items down, Izuku went off to collect sticks to make a fire and you began to roll out your sleeping bags. You kicked away all the stones and dirt before placing them down next to each other. You made sure there was enough room for the campfire, you weren't working with a whole lot of space and the last thing you needed was for your beds to catch fire.

You finished your task relatively quickly and decided to walk outside to the lake's edge. There was a small pathway around the water leading to your cave. It was narrow, meaning you both had to shuffle along sideways to get in and out of the cave,

but it also meant the likelihood of others finding or walking into your cave was very slim.

You took your shoes off at the entrance of the cave and sat down, dipping your feet and lower calves into the water. You closed your eyes and leaned back onto your hands, taking in all the sounds of nature. The rusting of tree leaves, the calls of birds singing with each other, the sloshing of the water as you gently kicked your legs.

Izuku found you peacefully becoming one with nature, a smile made its way to his lips. He figured it would be hard for you to adjust to such a big lifestyle change, going from silk sheets and servants tending to your every need to sleeping bags and having to fend for yourself wouldn't be easy for everyone. You certainly struggled with some of it but at times like this, when you were soaking in the sun, and allowing your surroundings to bring you peace he couldn't help but feel pride for you.

You were doing your best to enjoy this new lifestyle, no matter how much of a shock to your system it was.

He left you alone for now and got to setting up the fire, it took about ten minutes to get the fire going, just in time for thunder to roar from over the mountain tops, a cry of war directed to nature.

You walked back into the cave to avoid being caught in it. Izuku handed you some fruit to snack on, he wished he could offer you a nice meal but when travelling, it wasn't that easy.

“Stop pulling that face.” You said as you took the apple from him, and took a bite.

He blinked, looking up to meet your eyes. “W-what?” You frowned, sitting down beside him, the fire crackling before you both as raindrops began to fall from the sky outside. "You keep pulling that face, as though you're afraid you're not doing good enough."

You could read him like an open book. Granted he never tried to hide his feelings from you. He just wanted to make you happy, you must be so used to your lavish lifestyle, but now you're stuck trudging around in mud and living off apples for every meal. He looked down at the ground, his lips parted as he tried to speak but no words came.

"You already know why I left, but allow me to remind you." You flicked his forehead, a way to get him to look back at you. He frowned, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "I left because I want to be with you, no matter where we are. Whether I'm sitting in a palace eating a piping hot meal or in a cave eating an apple. None of that matters to me, what matters is that I have you by my side." Your hand came up to his cheek, the pad of your thumb brushing over his red cheek.

He half smiled at you, there was still some uncertainty despite your words. However, he wouldn’t be Izuku if he wasn't always worrying over all the little details. You chose to be with him, and he was determined to give you the best life possible. Even if he had his worries he always appreciated you trying to reassure him. He was so lucky to have someone like you in his life, someone willing to give up everything for him. He silently vowed to give you the rest of his life in return. He nuzzled into your hand, pressing it closer to his face. “I love you.” he whispered.

“I love you too.” You smiled, brushing some hair from his eyes before moving in as he did to join your lips in a sweet kiss.

What was meant to be a reassuring peck quickly turned into tongues dancing and hands fumbling. A kiss that stole your breath away. Your hands trailed from his cheeks, down his neck to place on his shoulders. He shivered at your feather-like touches that glided across his skin. His hands pulled you forward by your waist bringing you to his chest.

Your head titled as his did, deepening the kiss. You hummed as his tongue traced over your lips, desperate to feel more of you. You parted your lips, getting up on your knees, never breaking the kiss, and shuffling forward until you were close enough to straddle his lap. He felt him smile into the kiss when you sat on him, like he had gotten his way. His skin was already tingling despite the layers of clothes in the way.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the locks, wordlessly begging for more. He got the hint, his hands pushing under your shirt and taking it off in one movement. His scarred hands began tracing shapes into your back as you began gasping for air. He pulled back from your lips, teeth gently tugging at your lip as he did so.

When you looked into his eyes you saw them burning with desire and that alone was enough to send a pool of heat to your core. He moved forward again, lip connecting to your neck, his hot breath fanned against your skin sending shivers down your spine, a small hum escaping your lips as you pulled his head closer.

He left marks all over your neck and collarbone, sucking and nibbling at your soft skin. He soon trailed down to your chest as he unclasped your bra and moved it aside. His eager lips attached to your breast, and while his mouth began to suck on your sensitive buds, playing and groping with the mounds of fat as his hands rolled your hips forward. A groan echoed through the cave when he felt your clit grinding against his growing erection. You moaned, taking the hint and grinding against him creating a heated friction between you. The way you hugged him closer, begging for more, how your hips desperately rolled forward to feel more of him, it turned him on so much he could feel the blood rushing to his throbbing cock.

He pulled away from your breasts, his hands fumbled with your pants. He did take a second to catch his breath as he pulled your pants off leaving you only in panties. He took a second to admire your body, hands caressing up and down your sides as his eyes drank you in. "Gods… you're so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?" He smiled, pressing a loving peck to your bare shoulder. He was always so sappy, even now when you were grinding against him.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and yanking on his hair. You were desperate to feel more of him, you needed him. He got the hint and pulled off his own pants, throwing them to the side before taking off his shirt. You looked over his scars, pressing kisses to a few of them.

Once you were both rid of all the clothes that kept you apart, he picked you up bridal style, carrying you over to the fur sleeping bags. He lay you down, coaxing your legs apart so he could get between them, your lips locked again, your naked bodies rubbed together, it felt so much better without the clothes in between. He moaned, getting up onto his knees and fisting his hard cock in his hand.

He gave you an expecting look and you crawled forward. You sat back on your knees when you reached him, looking up at him through your lashes, pupils dilated. He smiled down at you, one hand petting your hair as the tip of his cock traced around your lips. "Open up, princess." He whispered and you obeyed.  

He pushed his hips forward until his ball hit your chin, tears peaking at the corner of your eyes as you swallowed his length, the tip hitting the back of your throat. He wiped them away for you, "Suck on it for me princess." He muttered breathlessly.

Your tongue circled around the tip, the salty taste of pre cum hitting your taste buds. You bobbed your head up and down, impatience  making your actions erratic. He breathed out, eyes sliping close as he marvelled in the feeling of your hot mouth around his aching cock. It took everything in him not to start thrusting forward into your mouth, but he didn't want to hurt you.

You grabbed onto his hips for better leverage, quickening your pace. Saliva began to drip from your mouth, onto your bouncing tits. "Mhh, yeah, just like that baby." You removed one hand from his side and slipped it between your legs, his loud moans and words of praise were too much for you, your ever growing heat needed to be tended to.

Izuku opened his eyes to see where your hand had gone, and upon seeing you pleasuring yourself as you sucked on his member got too overwhelming. His head went back, toes curling as he inhaled a sharp breath. "P-princess i'm going to cum!" he let out a strangle moan, his body curling forward as he released his hot seed into your mouth. He panted as you pulled away, cum covered your lips. Your tongue poked out to lick up every drop as you stared deep into his eyes.

His lips parted at the sight of you greedily lapping up his cum. You smiled at his reaction before laying back down on the sleeping bag. He smiled back, crawling over your body. You were far from done.

He connected his lips back to yours, noses clumsily bumping together, he could taste himself on your tongue, it boosted his ego. Your hips began to rock against his, your slick coating his cock as it slipped between your folds. You sighed into the kiss, grabbing at his hair and neck to pull him closer.

His lips started to trail back down your body, this time going further than your breasts. He kissed his way down your stomach, soon his face was between your legs, he could feel your heat, see your dripping arousal. He licked his lips, squeezing your thigh before diving forward. His tongue pushed inside your hole, lapping up your juices, his nose buried deep into your clit.

You gasped, back arching and toes curling when your aching core finally had some attention. He moaned at your taste, sending vibrations down your spine. Your beautiful noises of pleasure bounced off the walls of the cave. Neither of you had to be quiet anymore, there were no guards, no servants, not even family to be careful of, and he wanted to hear you scream out his name.

"Fuck! p-please. Just fill me up already." You mewled. He looked up at you with a grin, pulling away from you as he licked his lips. You'd never seen such an animalistic look in his eyes. It was like a lion stalking in on his prey.

He got onto his knees, grabbing your hips and pulling your forward. He pressed the tip of his cock to your clit, teasingly rubbing it up and down, slapping it a few times. You whined at his teasing before finally pressing it into your hole.

You simultaneously released low groans. Your hands grabbed at the fabric of the sleeping bags as his fingers dug into your hips. A trapped sigh escaped his lips once he was fully in. He gave you a few seconds to adjust as he put your legs over his shoulders and leaned forward so he could grab and hold one of your hands.

"M-move- fuck~ please!" You moaned. He didn't need to be told twice. He began to pound into you without hesitation. Each thrust of his hips made you whimper and whine, you squeezed his hand as the heat in your core grew.

"Mmh~ you're taking me so well. G-Good girl." He whispered, his hips quickening at the sound of your squelching pussy. He moaned, his cock going sliding into deep. As much as his body wanted to throw his head back he fought to keep it forward. He didn't want to miss a second of your expression. You looked so beautiful, your hair falling around your head like some sort of halo. The way you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as those blissful, slutty moans left your parted lips.

It was all too perfect.

He took his hand from yours, sitting up and changing the position. He bent you over, ass in the air and your glistening pussy on display for him. He moaned at the sight before slipping back inside of you. His hands clamped down on your waist, pulling you back into him. It was so much faster, harder, you were both screaming out in pleasure at the new position. His cock reached new places.

You rolled your hips against him, eyes rolling back into your head as you desperately grabbed for something to hold onto, fearing that you were already about to come undone around him. You felt his hands rub at your ass cheeks, his eyes admiring how perfectly round and plump they were.

He leaned over your body, chest against your back, one hand holding him up as the other moved around to your swollen clit. He drilled into you as his fingers rubbed circles into your clit. His lips leaving small kisses to your bare shoulder in between his moans.

"Oh.. oh, Y/n~ princess." He panted into your ear. "Are you ready to be filled?" He asked, nuzzling your neck with his nose. His toes were digging into the floor as he felt his throbbing cock ach for release. He wanted to stuff you full of his cum as you screamed out his name.

You nodded, moaning out a string of yes's. You pushed your hips back, keeping up with his lightning speed, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. He closed his eyes, back arching as he felt his hot ropes of cum spill inside of you as you cried out his name, your juices spilling over his hand. Your body curled in on itself as the pleasure washed over you.

He fucked you through your orgasms, only pulling out when his cock had stopped twitching.  

You both collapsed onto the fur. He wasted no time pulling you into his arms, hand moving around to massage your hips as he always did. You did your best to ignore the feeling of his cum slipping out of you and dripping onto your thigh.

With a light kiss to your forehead he pulled you to lay on his chest. "You ok, princess?"

You giggled at his concern. "We've done this so many times now and you still worry about hurting me?" His face flushed red, eyes turning away to look at the pouring rain outside the cave. "I-I would never want to hurt you." He confessed.

You took his face into your hand, turning him to look at you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and lay your head back down. "It was amazing as always. Don't worry."

He nodded, both of you laying in silence for a while as you enjoyed the sounds of nature. The calming sounds of rain showering down from the sky, the cackling of the fire that kept you both warm. It was so peaceful. There were no other people in sight, no guards, royals, townspeople. It was just you two, alone, how you both had always wanted it to be.

"You never told me what your mom said when you told her we were leaving." You turned to face him again, resting your chin on his shoulder. His hand ran through your locks absentmindedly.

"She was happy for us. She said she was glad i was following my heart, that i found someone who loves me enough to give up everything they have just to be with me." He smiled, recalling her reaction. "All she asks is that we come back to visit every now and then, and when we eventually find a good home to settle down in, we have to send her a letter telling her our whereabouts so she can come visit us too."

You smiled, it would be so nice to have her visit your home, to be able to cook for her for once. She always took good care of you whenever you went to visit. You couldn't wait to return the favour. "That sounds nice doesn't it?"

He hummed in agreement, the image of you both living in a cottage, somewhere in the forest. Not too far from civilisation but enough to have your own space. No one to bother you, everyday would be peaceful. You could have spare rooms for guests. Maybe a family and pets someday.

"Yeah, that sounds amazing." He smiled, looking at you. His one and only princess, his first and only love.

He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[tyunniverse]

TXT x DISNEY Halloween Shorts 🎃 (4/5)

pairing: ot5 x reader

genre: fluff, crack, college au

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: there's a halloween event at your uni and a few students are in the mood for misfit.

yeonjun | soobin | beomgyu | taehyun | hueningkai

TAEHYUN | Sleeping Beauty (2.5k)

The sky had turned dark, not a single star in sight, covered by ominous looking clouds that helped set the atmosphere for tonight's grandeur. Sunset came about an hour ago. Everyone was scattered around enjoying the festivities, trying out different booths and events that were held by the different departments. But Taehyun wanted none of that.

The bags under his eyes and the ever present frown on his face made it obvious enough. He'd been working his ass off for days for their department's event— delegating tasks, going back and forth for supplies, decorating their venue, advertising, assisting a few students with their script— Taehyun could go on and on. He looks up at the venue from where he sat, frowning as he reads the sign he made and put up at the entrance: FRIGHT MANSION. He wasn't too fond of the name but everyone else thought otherwise.

The walls of the building had aged with time, sporting numerous cracks and holes. Amateur graffiti lined the entrance up until the doors that were previously barred shut. Taehyun figured there was probably more at the back but didn't care much to actually check. Moss and overgrown weed poked out of the ground, adding to the dilapidated building's charm. The place had a reputation of being haunted but Taehyun never believed in that, but it did turn out to be quite the efficient marketing scheme, drawing in daring students like moths to a flame. He'd wondered whose brilliant idea it was to get permission to use the old Nursing Department building. Oh, right. It was his.

The old wooden bench creaks as Taehyun lies down, propping his head up his backpack that he'd turn into a makeshift pillow. The leaves above his head sway with the breeze. The rustling of the trees made the chattering and screams from the inside almost inaudible. Almost.

Taehyun made full use of the bench that's situated farthest from the venue, taking the time to get some well-deserved shuteye before someone comes and ruins his beauty sleep over something stupid like someone's costume catching fire. The thought rings in his mind, the likelihood of that scenario was far too plausible for his liking. His eyes flutter shut, shuffling from side to side to find a better sleeping position before settling on the one he first had earlier.

A strong breeze sneaks up on Taehyun, making him wrap his arms around himself as he shivered. He recalls fumbling to wear anything he got his hands on before rushing back to school. A little thought would've been nice while putting on his outfit, by then he would've settled on a few layers of clothing rather than a simple loose sweater. Another blow of a breeze makes him frown.

No matter. He's slept under worse conditions.

"Sure is cold tonight, huh." You say, adjusting the box of glitter containers in your hands as you rush to catch up with your friend, Yugyeom, who was carrying less than you were. You curse the difference in length between your legs and his— Yugyeom's being longer than yours, allowing him to take larger steps. It didn't help that he was a fast walker too.

"Yup, sure is." He says, sparing you a glance. "Which is why we should hurry this up. I don't want to get scolded twice for being late with the delivery because of your tiny legs." And with a snort, he speeds up. You roll your eyes.

The crunching sound of dead leaves beneath your feet alerts the two of you that you're nearing the old Nursing Department building. A cool breeze rolls in, somehow cooler now that you were in an area with lots of trees. You've been here before, once, with Yugyeom. It was for a stupid college party dare he'd made with his friends, and he forced you to come with.

The two of you pass the wide opening, the path towards the building showing up in your peripheral vision. From where you were, you could see the brught graffiti plastered around the walls. A quick scan and you spot the one Yugyeom had made for the dare— a simple sign saying: GYEOM WAS HERE, huge enough for his friends to spot from afar the next day to see if he really did it.

You chuckle, remembering how dumb he looked when he accidentally sprayed some paint over his shirt. "Hey, Yugyeom, remember when—" A stronger breeze blows by before you could finish, whipping your hair in front of your eyes. This wouldn't have been a problem if your hands were free to remove the obstacle from your face.

"Shit." You curse under your breath when you stumble against something hard. You feel a little light-headed as your feet move to regain your balance, unfortunately the attempt doesn't do much for you as the contents of the box spills, the containers of glitter rolling away from you faster than you could catch up to Yugyeom. Speaking of your friend.

"Yugyeom, wait!" You let the empty box fall, your hands rushing up to brush the hair out of your face as you whipped around. The familiar clown outfit you'd been following since the beginning of the night was long gone. You almost felt a little betrayed if you hadn't remembered how he got chewed out the last time he was late because of you. "You're not even gonna help me pick these up?!" You yell, hands slowly rubbing against each other to combat the cold wind. As you expected, you're greeted with silence. Well, almost silence. You jump as you hear a blood-curdling scream coming from inside the building, your balled fists immediately shooting up in self defense. Not like it mattered. Punching a ghost in the face didn't seem possible in the first place.

The rustling trees greet you as you slowly flutter your eyes open, taking the time to adjust to the darkness before you can start to make out the form of the building, and on the second floor, light. You breathe a sigh of relief, a smile forming on your face as you remembered that there was a Haunted house event going on right here and now. Definitely made the place seem a lot less creepy, you thought.

A few sparkling dusts in the air catches your attention and you're immediately brought back to reality— the harsh reality of you getting yelled at by a fuming Jinyoung when he finds out that half of the glitter he had you buy was now spread all over the mossy landscape of an abandoned building rather than the cute little treat shop your class had worked hard to build. Yeah, good luck to you.

You feel the grass prick against your knees as you bent down to pick up the containers that still had most of their glitter on, taking two trips from where they spilled to the box that you'd left behind at the opening. There was no way you'd start carrying that thing around while you cleaned up. If any of the glitter spills again, you wouldn't know what to do. Well, you would, but it would be too much of a hassle to clean up after yourself all over again.

Lastly, you settle for the piles of glitter scattered around the area. Some were spread around in bundles, some were tedious to scoop up since they were scattered too far apart, and some were sticking to the moss and mud, to which you've decided to leave alone. You've never had a good relationship with moss and you tried your best to keep your hands and feet away from it as much as possible. Just the thought of feeling the nasty thing with your own hands had your skin crawl. So that's that, no touching glitter covered moss for tonight.

You continue your endeavors, following the sparkling trail until it led you to one if the benches. Specifically, the person lying down on the said bench. Even more specific, that person's face— his face that's covered with a pile glitter.

Another breeze comes swooping in and hold your hands close together. Your eyes widen when the pile of glitter that was resting comfortably on his cheek was now spread throughout his face. At this point, trying to get the glitter back wasn't even an option. You frown, crouching down to take a closer look at your poor accidental victim.

His hair was sticking out on different angles, his lips dry from the cold, his outfit loose and thin, completely inappropriate for the weather and arguably the spirit of Halloween. You couldn't help but compare your matching clown costume with Yugyeom to this guy's sorry excuse of a Halloween getup. But upon closer inspection, you recognize who this was.

You didn't know his name, just that he was the one in charge of the Haunted house event going on behind you. You'd run into him a couple of times while purchasing supplies downtown. He looked even more tired after each encounter. Looking at his peaceful resting face and how underdressed he was, you figured he must've reached his limit. He was tired, understandably so, and you just spilled glitter over his face. He wasn't going to be happy when he wakes up and gets some of this stuff in his eyes.

Another gust of wind blows past you and an idea sparks in your head. "Just gotta be careful."

There's a tingling sensation on Taehyun's face and it's certainly not welcome. For one, it broke his beauty nap. And two, there is no number two— irritation taking over his mind as he finds himself shifting his full focus on number one. At first, he decides to ignore it, trying to go back to sleep despite the uncomfortable feeling on his face. But then he notices something strange.

He tries his best to stay still, refusing to move and open his eyes. He realizes that the tingling sensation was quite similar to the breeze that kept passing by, except that it's smaller and somehow warm? He couldn't really explain. He just knows that it's uncomfortable and roaming all over his face. And that's when it hits him.

This place was rumored to be haunted.

Goosebumps spread all over his body. The sensation almost felt like there's someone breathing on his face. No, not breathing. Something stronger. The thought alone was enough for Taehyun's eyes to shoot open, quickly prompting him to get up until halfway, his lips brush against something soft and warm.

"HOLY SHIT." was the first thing he heard after being pushed back down on the bench.

His body stiffens, completely stunned. And he wasn't the only one. In front of him was a complete stranger in an unflattering clown suit, staring back at him with equal shock and terror as their hands cupped their mouth. Taehyun isn't quite sure, but he swore he saw a pink blush spread across your cheeks.

He eyes how your hands are still covering half of your face, slightly shaking. A breeze passes by, seemingly reminding you two that it was the main villain for tonight. Taehyun shivers in the cold and is then briefly reminded of the sensation earlier, a warm blowing. "You," He looks up at you, a concerned look on his face. "Why are you here? What were you doing to me earlier?"

"GLITTER." You scramble to your knees, trying to gather any left over glitter from before to show as proof. Managing to get a few, you quickly hold it up to his face. "I— well, you see. Glitter. Yes, glitter." You wanted to slap yourself for failing to be coherent during the time you needed it most. "I accidentally spilled glitter all over the place and some happened to land on your face so, yeah, I don't really know why I even did it in the first place but yeah.. I started blowing on your face to get the glitter off and— oh!" You grin once you realized that his face was now glitter free, well, except for his lips. "Looks like it worked out fine anyway."

Taehyun couldn't help but look at you as if you were crazy. Here you were dressed up as a clown and reacting to your own explanation. He sighs, the bench creaking when he moves to sit up properly. "So, you were behind that weird sensation on my face earlier?"

"Weird sensation?" Your brows raise. "Oh, the blowing? Pretty much, yeah."

"And the soft feeling.." Taehyun stops himself after piecing things together. His hand shoots up to his lips on instinct, his cheeks flushed as he watched you slowly stand up. "Did we?"

"Yeah."

"When I—"

"When you tried getting up."

The leaves rustle and one falls off its branch and lands straight on Taehyun's head. He brushes it off. "Sorry for that."

"No, no! I should be the one saying sorry. I accidentally spilled glitter all over you and even ruined your sleep. Your reaction was totally normal and it just happened coincidentally."

Taehyun could only nod. He had to admit, his mind wasn't 100% present at the moment but he could at least process what had just happened. He looks down, noticing the containers of glitter by your side. "Do you still need help?"

"With that?"

"Gathering the glitter."

"Oh, no. I'm actually done."

"Well, then what d—"

"Taehyun!"

Both of your attention shifts towards one of the windows on the second floor. There, a group of students were frantically waiving at Taehyun. He could sense it. The panic in their movements, how some of the staff were running around aimlessly in the hallway— he'd predicted it all earlier. He just thought nobody was careless enough to actually set their costume on fire in a venue that's only filled with fake candles, but they keep proving him wrong.

"I think they need you." You say, feeling sorry that he had to go back to his duties after everything that went on.

"More than I need them." Taehyun sighs, getting up from his seat. He doesn't bother to pack up his belongings, merely stretching out his body before turning back to you. He notices your eyes on his bag and he reassures you that no one's going to want to approach a shady looking bag in front of a creepy building at night. At least, not while he's around.

"Sorry again." You say as he slowly made his way to the building. "I'll make it up to you somehow."

Taehyun pauses. "What's the glitter for?"

"Oh, it's for our Halloween treat shop."

You blink as Taehyun turns to face you. You half expected him to smile or something, but he only continued to look at you with the same tired eyes from earlier. "If you want to make it up to me for ruining my sleep, then wait for me here."

"Huh?"

"We'll go to your little shop together once I'm done." He says, now smiling. "And you're going to treat me to everything I want."

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

I like honestly need some toothrotting fluff with snafu like 70% of the snafu content is just smut not that I'm complaining but I need doing basic ass things with snaf that don't lead to fucking like mention it sure but if the reader and snaf could keep it in there pants and do something fluffy for two seconds that would be much appreciated

I don’t think you’re yelling at me, lol, but I do acknowledge that the majority of my Snaf writing is smut. I guess we all just see Merriell “Snafu” Shelton as the sexbeast when it comes to the Ramigos 🙃

Anyway, kickin’ it out to the country for this one, and I hope it’s fluffy enough for you!

Your relationship with your parents was . . . complicated.

For as long as you could remember, your main goal had been to get as far away from the northeastern United States as possible, so when your ambitions took you deep into the south, you settled into your new life with ease. The oppressive weight of everything that was them, lifted, and you felt, for the first time, free.

Meeting Merriell Shelton only lightened matters. At first, he was a handsome, mysterious, brooding creature, but when he took a shine to you, you realized it was all a mask—a protective layer, much like your own that he had donned to shield himself from all the bad he had already known in the world. And once he let you in, there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t make you smile or when you didn’t have to clutch your stomach from laughing so hard it hurt.

Happiness, so soft and so sweet, flowed over you like a cleansing wave and life was good.

But one evening, when Merriell came home from work, he found you sitting quietly on the sofa, reading a message from your brother.

“What is it, darlin?”

“My folks—they . . . miss me.”

“But you don’t miss them, right?”

You looked up at Merriell, frowning. “I’m . . . not sure. A few years ago, my answer would’ve been a hell no. Now? I’m just not sure.”

“Time can do that to a person,” Mer said, raising his eyes and looking over your head and out the living room window.

“Would you—” you stopped, unsure if you really wanted to ask this of him.

“Would I?” he questioned, his green eyes flicking back to lock on yours, blazing with an intensity that told you he was listening, really listening.

You bit your lip, then asked, “Would you come home with me?”

Merriell was quiet for a moment, then he kneeled on the floor in front of you, careful to avoid staining the fabric of the couch with his grease-spotted work pants. “I’ll do whateva ya want,” he said, plucking one of your hands from your lap so he could gently kiss your palm before pressing it against his cheek.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice choked with emotion as you ran your thumb over the soft skin of his cheek.

* * * * *

As the tires crunched over the grass-disrupted gravel along the winding driveway to your parents’ farmhouse, you rolled down the window and breathed in the air of your childhood. The corn was growing in nicely, but Mer looked around and said, “That’s all the higha it is in July?”

“Knee-high by the fourth of July,” you sang with a little laugh. “Things grow a little slower up here.”

Merriell watched the corn pass suspiciously, but once the rows ended, you were met with yet another long stretch of driveway that led up to the house.

Situated on a hill in the midst of a decently sized yard that was then flanked by the woods, was your parents’ place. Everything was kept in pristine condition when you lived there, so you weren’t surprised that much hadn’t changed. Property was the one true pride of your folks.

Merriell pulled into a spot beside your daddy’s truck and cut the engine.

“Ya ready?”

You nodded before hopping out of your car, relishing in the freedom to stand and bounce on your toes, wiggling off the long drive.

Merriell stretched, groaning a little as his back popped when he lifted his arms high over his head.

You seized the opportunity and launched into his side, wrapping your arms tightly around his trim waist. You buried your face in his neck and inhaled as he brought his arms down around you.

For a few minutes, you just stood there, locked in a warm hug and wrapped in the most comforting presence you had ever known, both of you totally at peace. Although, you could feel Merriell’s eyeballs moving as they took everything in, knowing he’d have a million questions once the two of you were settled in for the night.

“All right. Let’s do this,” you said with a shaky conviction.

Mer chuckled into your ear and kissed your temple. “Not too late to jus’ high-tail it outta here.”  

You smiled at him and shook your head, taking his hand in yours and leading him into the house.

* * * * *

As it turned out, Merriell was right. Time did have a way of changing things and the evening was pleasant. Your brother and your sister were there, asking Merriell a million questions about growing up in Cajun country, and your parents peppered you with questions about how you’d adjusted to life in the south.

By the time the crickets and the katydids were trying to outsing each other, your mouth was actually dry from talking. Your parents had gone to bed and your siblings had just left, so you poured what remained of the lemonade into two glasses, filled them with ice, and took Merriell to your favorite part of the house: the wrap-around, open, front porch.

You settled into a pair of matching, wooden Adirondack chairs that were connected by a small table, and settling your drinks there, you both let your eyes adjust to the dark.

“‘S kinda spooky out here,” Mer commented as he adjusted to the night noises of the north.

Your laughter was soft. “Give your eyes a minute. Keep watching the treeline.”

Mer complied, and in a few minutes he was leaning forward, his mouth popping open in the dark. You watched him first, then turned your eyes to the treeline as what seemed like millions of lightening bugs began their dance.

There were so many of the fiery little creatures, their lights blinking off and on so quickly that it looked like the trees were moving even though there wasn’t even a slight breeze. It was mesmerizing, and paired with the sounds of the crickets and the katydids, it was bliss.

“I missed this.”

“I’ve neva seen so many,” Merriell said with awe. “It looks like a, whatchamacallit? The thing with the bursts of color inside?”

“A kaleidoscope.”

“Mmhm.”

You smiled as you watched him watching the lightening bugs, his curls still neatly tamed and his crisp white t-shirt standing out against both the background of the night and the deep tan of his arms.

“Wanna catch a couple?”

Merriell turned to look at you like you were crazy, but once he saw the way your face was lit up in a wide smile, he couldn’t help but smile back. He stood up from his chair and you did, too, telling him to wait just a second.

Dashing into the house, you dug out one of your mom’s canning jars and grimaced as you poked holes in the lid with a kitchen knife. You didn’t even want to know how many jars met this fate when you were little because no one could ever remember where the lid went. It was like the holes made it invisible by the next time you needed it.

Merriell was still standing in the same spot, still watching the lightening bugs.

“They closer now.”

“Perfect for catching!” you said with a leap off the porch and into the yard, your shoes forgotten and the cool grass bringing back another wave of memories.

Except nothing from your childhood could compare to the feeling of Merriell deciding that you were going to be his first lightening bug. He caught you around the waist and spun you before settling you back on your feet.

“That’s not how this works,” you said through your laughter.

“Oh? Show me then,” he teased, his teeth a flash of white in the dark as he grinned.

“Come on!”

Tugging Merriell through the yard you stalked a lightening bug, waiting until it was just close enough to snatch out of the air.

“Got him!”

You shook the bug off into the jar and both of you watched as he blinked inside of his cage.

“Betta find him a friend,” Merriell said, his eyes narrowing as he mimicked the way you had stalked and captured your bug—except he didn’t quite have the knack yet, so when he opened his hand a streak of dying phosphorescence was smeared across his palm.

“Oh no,” Merriell breathed.

You shook your head and couldn’t help but to quietly laugh at his genuine guilt.

“I had a cousin who used to smear them on like war paint—at least you didn’t do it on purpose,” you said, lifting his chin and giving him a consoling peck.

“Here,” you said softly. “Watch me again.”

Mer watched you so intently that you could feel his burning gaze of concentration as you caught the next bug. “More like an open-palmed snatch—and don’t close your fist the whole way.”  

Merriell nodded and came back beaming with his living lightening bug cupped tenderly in his palm.

“Do I get a kiss for doin’ it right?”

“You can have a kiss for breathing if you want.”

Mer laughed and kissed you, his lips pressing into yours in a few quick successions before he pulled away and challenged you, insisting he could catch more lightening bugs than you.

For the next hour, the two of you darted through the yard like kids, laughing, occasionally stopping for hugs and sweet kisses until Mer’s challenge was completely forgotten and your jar was filled with blinking little treasures.

“I’m so thirsty,” you said, swiping at the little bit of sweat that had broken out along your brow.

Merriell took your hand and you walked back to the porch. He set the jar down beside your watered down lemonades and when you downed your drink in nearly one gulp, he offered you his.

“Wha’ we gonna do with them?” he asked, his finger lightly tapping on the glass as he leaned in to watch them crawl around the jar, their lights bright enough to reflect in his big eyes.

“Let them go,” you said with a wistful half-smile.

Mer looked up at you, then back down at the jar.

“They sure are beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” you replied, betting a hundred dollars that Merriell was blushing but it was too dark to see.

“Stop that,” he lightly scolded. “That’s ma line.”

“Oh, it’s a line, is it?”

He smiled. “No, darlin. Not with you. With you, it’s the truth.”

“That’s an even better line.”

You both tittered with laughter, both of your eyes lingering on each other before you reached for the jar.

“Let’s go free our little friends.”

Hand in hand with only a mason jar full of fireflies to guide you, you made your way toward the treeline.

[short-stories-club]

Don't look down.

  I exhaled deeply and looked up. The tall rocks and trees on either side of us loomed with grandeur and complacency. They’d been here long before us, and would be here long after us, watching whoever explored this valley. Ben paused and looked back at me. “Wanna take a breather before we leave the trail?” I gave a thumb up and continued to catch up with him. 

I met Ben earlier that year through a mutual friend. I was looking for someone to go on longer backpacking trips with, and Ben had recently discovered Forrest Fens memoir. Forrest Fen is an eclectic art collector who, inspired by a recent terminal diagnosis, hid several million dollars worth of artifacts somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. He put clues in his memoir which hadn’t really gotten much publicity until recently. Ben explained some of his research on the book, potential locations, and about some of the dangers. A few recent explorers had gone missing looking for the treasure, with their bodies discovered weeks or months later. I wasn’t convinced the treasure was actually out there, or that it was possible to find, but this was just the sort of romantic mystery and danger to get me interested.  

Ben had explained that he had planned several routes to possible treasure hunting locations, but didn’t have much experience in the back country. I told him I could help with that, so we spent that summer exploring and becoming friends, but never finding treasure. On several of those trips, we would also practice some survival skills – fishing, trapping, or foraging what we could on or off the trail. While many of our excursions started on well-traveled routes, we would often venture of the path when needed for our search. At first these were small excursions, a mile or so, but eventually we were confident enough to find routes several days in or out of a particular area. Two summers later we were back to one of our initial locations to explore further past where we had stopped the year before. 

We sipped some water and replenished our psyche with some chocolate almonds. We examined the landscape ahead of us. The trail we were on continued through a clearing around a small lake which was fed by a creek. On either side of us were tall cliffs behind a canopy of trees. The cliffs continued either side except to the front, where a thin water fall was all that remained of the glacier that carved this cirque. To the right of the water fall the cliff had broken up into a piling of different size rocks. We could pass the trail and scramble this piling to get to the top of the water fall. At the top of the fall, there’s another valley echoing this one, but smaller. At the end of the upper valley is a ridge with pilings of rocks that form small peaks around the valley. That upper valley would be base camp, where we could explore around some of the surrounding peaks. The trail we just left was the easy part of the hike. Scrambling the rocks ahead would be the difficult part of our journey with the steepest elevation gain. 

We paused to mentally sketch our route up the back of the valley next to the water fall. We would climb back and forth along the rock pile to make our own switchbacks, taking short breaks on either side. Maintaining a consistent pace without pushing to hard is key to avoiding fatigue, and avoiding fatigue was critical here. This wasn’t far from where a previous treasure hunter had gone missing. Scaling the rocks safely meant paying attention to foot placement, and good communication with those around. A carelessly dislodged rock can be fatal for a hiker below, as would tripping on steeper parts of the pile. As long as Ben and I were aware of each other’s location we would be ok – there are very few hikers on this trail to began with, and even fewer who would venture off the trail. 

When we got to the base of the rock piling Ben chuckled – “Remember the last time we were here?” Two years ago, we had made it up about half way up the pile, when we heard an echoy grunt and a soft crack. We were both startled at the time, but laughed it off and figured it was just someone letting out aggression on their firewood in the valley below. That year we didn’t have enough supplies to stay in the upper valley for more than a day, so we could only get a few hours of searching in. 

This year we were more prepared, and in better shape. We scaled the rock pile much faster and precisely than prior, and setup our base camp. We had enough food to last two and a half days this time. Typically we would stretch our exploration time further by foraging or trapping small game, but after a quick search through the valley, there were no obvious game trails or signs of small game. I placed snares anyway, perhaps we would get lucky. 

I returned to camp and we started roasting dinner. Ben asked “if you had to eat any part of a human to survive, what would it be?” Typicall hypothetical backpacking question. There’s something entertaining about imagining the worse possible survival situations and imagining what we would do in those situations. “Obviously thighs” I replied “the most bang for the buck.. also, it might be easier to imagine its not human” I remarked as my stomach turned a bit. “The liver’s more nutrient dense” he replied “that might be a better choice in the long run” I pulled out a map to change subjects. We had a few different locations to explore the next day. We’d climb over the ridge on the far side of the upper valley, and from their each of us could take two different paths around the peak and meet at the back. Each of us had a gps system, back up map, and a survival kit. 

The next morning we woke up just before sunrise to maximize the day. Ate a quick roasted rabbit and oatmeal breakfast, and started towards the ridge. The hike through the upper valley felt more peaceful, but eerie. The main difference was the lack of any other campers in the valley that would break the silence with a distant conversation or laugh. Once we reached the top of the ridge, we marked our location and started around the peak. Aside from a topographical map, we didn’t know what the landscape behind the peak would look like, so we agreed that if we hadn’t found each other at the back side of the peak by 1 o’clock, we would retrace our steps and meet back at the front of the peak. This would give us each about 5 hours to make it around the peak – plenty of time to explore as we were hiking. 

I started counter clockwise around the at the top of the ridge. Large rocks dotted the landscape surrounded by brush, making trekking slow and difficult until I had found a good route. As I continued for about a mile, the brush thinned, and the rocks became larger and more scattered with small indentations and crevices carved on the tops and sides of them by rain. Up to this point I had been focused on pushing forward, so I stopped and held my breath for a second. The only sound that could be heard were gentle gusts of wind flowing around the surrounding hills and rocks and through the brush and grass. Normally the total stillness and solitude is peaceful, but something about this particular location made me feel uneasy. I let out a sigh, and for a second thought I heard a muffled scream in the distance. I stopped breathing again for a second and looked around. I only heard silence. My mind must be playing tricks on me I thought, so I kept moving. 

After trekking for about two hours, I noticed a small crevice at the bottom of one of the large rocks. It looked like the brush around the hole had been deliberately cleared away-- the only artificial looking disturbance I had seen up to this point. I paused for a moment looking around for any tracks or signs of wild animals. Perhaps this was an old hibernation spot for a bear from the last winter. I crouched and peered into the cave to see how far it extended. The opening was about two or three feet tall at the highest point, and extended in either direction forming a shelf. I leaned under the shelf, and noticed a smaller opening funneling further in a few feet. I poked my head in to get a closer look and almost missed a small piece of wood partially buried near the back of the opening. Could this be the treasure? Or at least a clue? My heart started to beat faster, but I was skeptical. I quickly brushed the dirt of the surface of what looked like a rotted cigar box. My skepticism was confirmed, this was too small to be the treasure. I extracted it from the cave to get a closer look. As I was standing up I froze. About fifteen feet in front of me there was a small man with worn clothes. He had long grey hair and a wirey beard. He didn’t move, he just stared through me with a flat but not unpleasant expression on his face. I stammered – “hi … is th- do you—is this your box?” He looked at me blankly and didn’t say a word. I noticed his hands were worn and callused, and he had dirt deep in his fingernails. Around is wrist was a small beaded bracelet made out of bones. I stuffed the box into my day pack and started to back away. He kept staring but didn’t say anything or seem to acknowledge I was there. Perhaps he didn’t understand me?  “have a nice one” I muttered reflexively, and started walking away slowly while periodically looking over my shoulder.

 I started moving faster to catch up with Ben on the other side of the peak. I was starting to feel a little insane and wanted to relay everything that I had seen so far. I reached the far side of the peak just before one, and scanned for a lookout point so that I wouldn’t miss when Ben arrived. The back of the peak had similar scattered boulders to the ones I had been navigating for the last few hours, but towards the west they were stacked to form several ledges. I chose one of the taller rocks and took a seat on the ledge. 

I pictured the man I had saw just earlier. What could he possibly be doing up here? I remembered an article I read of a homeless man that lived in national forest for ten years before being discovered. Could this be similar? If so what would he survive on? There were very few edible plants or small game, and the lake below had no fish. Perhaps it was just another hiker that didn’t care to talk. I hypothesized while  scanning the horizon for Ben. An hour passed. I started to worry and looked around for Ben, and began thinking about continuing around the ridge. If he was stuck somewhere along the path, or simply hadn’t made it I would run into him on my way continuing around the peak. As I looked up one more time to see if I had missed anything on the horizon, I heard it again – a muffled scream followed by a crack. This time I was sure it couldn’t have been a hallucination. The memory of that exact sound from two years prior amplified my anxiety. I could feel my heart rate increasing while I tried to remain calm. Then I spotted the same man again just a few hundred yards further looking over the edge of the boulder he was standing on. I quickly started scrambling towards his position. 

As I got closer he turned towards me ant pointed over the edge of the boulder and uttered a deep laugh. This time I saw his bracelet more closely. It wasn’t bone it was human teeth! I felt faint at the thought of what could be over the edge. My mind raced with all the worst explanations I could imagine. I opened my mouth and after a few tries it cracked: “What??!” As soon as the word left my mouth I realized he hadn’t known I was right behind him. He jerked quickly around, startled, and lost his balance. His feet slipped over the edge, but he managed to grab hold of the rock. I slowly walked towards the edge with my legs shaking. As soon as I peered over I saw the corner of Ben’s orange jacket. My stomach sank and my limbs went numb. I didn’t want to see anymore. I stumbled away from the edge and saw the man’s hands still clinging to the edge. The tips of his fingers were pale from digging into the rock. My fear turned into anger as I thought of his face looking over the edge. I looked at his hands, his grip tightened as he tried to pull himself back up. I wanted to pry them off. Finally, they slipped, followed by a sharp crack that seemed to echo for a half a minute. I sat near the edge, still frozen. I couldn’t bear to look or leave. A few moments later I heard a shout. “Hey man! I’ve been looking all over for you! What’s going on?” I turned around to see Ben’s puzzled face, and my stomach sank. All that I had seen at the bottom was Ben’s jacket. 

[otonymous]

Hi!!!! Can I please request some "first times" with ikesen Yuki? both him and MC having 0 experience with any relationship related thing. Like Yuki and MC kissing and it was the first time for both of them..♥ first "I love you" and first time making love and giving/receiving oral (if you're okay with nsfw!!! it's okay if you don't wanna do it) thank you very much!

Hi Anon!  Thank you so much for the ask!  I am definitely okay with NSFW (as you can see by my Masterpost!) so hope you enjoy this long and filthy Yukimura headcanon!

Yukimura’s Firsts (Ikesen HC - NSFW):

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language, so reader discretion is advised 

Yukimura is pretty awkward around you (and women in general) to begin with: lots of teasing, calling you names (enchantress, boar woman) and blushing

Patience is key — it will take time for Yuki to finally put a finger on his emotions and admit to himself that you’re special to him, more than just a friend

Will take him even longer to make any moves on you, especially if there’s no impetus for him to do so (e.g. an impending battle in which he may lose his life)

Your first kiss will have been planned by him weeks in advance in discussions with Sasuke.  You know he’s gone overboard when even Sasuke has to tell him he’s overthinking things

Yuki will likely tell you he loves you before he even tries anything remotely physical, even before your first kiss

In fact, his declaration of love will come at the same time

He’ll take you to his special spot, an abandoned field dotted with beautiful wildflowers, in order to set the scene for your first kiss

When you are both comfortably seated under the cover of a tall tree, the dappled rays of the afternoon sun kissing your extended legs, Yuki will slowly lean into you, his hand hesitantly finding its way to rest on top of yours

You have a sense of what he is trying to do, and although you’ve been dying for this moment, you’re suddenly nervous now that it has finally arrived.  Shyness overtaking you, you look to the ground, feigning interest in the hem of your kimono.

“I love you.”

He blurts it out of nowhere.  And when you look up in surprise, his lips fall upon yours

The first kiss will be a bit awkward, trying to figure out how to angle your faces so your noses don’t bump against each other

While you’ve always admired his lips when he wasn’t paying attention, you never dreamed they would feel as soft as they do

Starts off as a tender press of your lips together, a few pecks here and there.  But before long, you’ll feel his tongue licking the seam of your lips, pressing gently for entry into your mouth

You’ll both gasp at the sensation when your tongues finally meet: like a floodgate opening, it lights a fire inside the two of you and before long, you’re rolling around on the grass and crushing the flowers, trying to make up for lost time

For the life of him, Yukimura does not know why he waited so damn long to do this

Your kimono bunches up as his knee parts your legs.  Overwhelmed by desire, you shamelessly rub up against his thigh, excitement coursing through you when you inadvertently feel his growing hardness through his hakama

Hands are everywhere: caressing, grasping, pulling

After what feels like an eternity, you hesitantly part, both panting and lips swollen.  Your rouge has rubbed clean off, the sun has begun to set and you’ve both missed dinner service but are hungering for something else entirely 😏

He will hesitantly approach Shingen for tips and instruction before you guys move beyond kissing/heavy petting —  but first, poor Yuki has to endure the way Shingen stares proudly at him when he realizes his boy is growing up

Shingen finally relents when Yuki threatens to leave and figure things out on his own

When Yuki refuses Shingen’s offer to take him to the red-light district so they can observe courtesans in action, the latter gifts him with a giant collection of shunga instead

There will be a lot of blushing and embarrassed chuckles when you both study these erotic pictures together as an instruction manual of sorts.  At the same time, the sexual tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a blade.  

The first time you go down on him, he almost collapses to the floor, reaching out both hands behind him to steady himself against the wall

The man is loud: if he’s not outright moaning and groaning, his heavy breathing and sighs are telltale signs to everyone in the vicinity that something x-rated is going on

You may need to gag him with the sleeve of his own kimono

Dimensions: nice cock — average girth, above average length (deep-throating will be a challenge), pretty much just juts straight out (not much curvature)

Doesn’t last very long the first time you give him head — accidentally comes in your mouth.  Shocked by the sudden spurts, you swallow without thinking.  

He doesn’t taste half bad: his cum is mainly bland with a hint of salt

Yuki apologizes profusely, but also cannot help how turned on he gets to see his cum dripping from your lips and onto your chin.  He is already hard and ready to go again in no time (his youth makes for a short refractory period)

He melts when you lay wet, sloppy kisses on the head of his cock

Has a deep appreciation for your “handiwork” while your mouth is occupied: keep that hand pumping up and down his exposed length, gently fondle his balls, run your nails lightly up and down the hard muscles of his ass

The man has to work hard to fight the urge to bury his fingers in your hair and buck with abandon into your watering mouth

Yuki makes an earth-shattering revelation the first time he goes down on you: he could easily spend the rest of his life with his face buried between your legs

Initially, he takes so much time just staring at the way your folds glisten with arousal that you start to feel nervous, craning your neck to get a glimpse at his face: he looks like a man possessed

Then, when you feel his tongue make a broad stroke from the perineum to your clit, his breath moist and hot against your entrance, you almost clamp his head between your thighs in pleasure

This man is high-key into eating you out: could easily go on for hours if you let him

He is thorough: no part of your pussy will go untouched by that tongue, his fingers

Loves: sucking your clit into his mouth and feeling your entire body spasm from the tiniest flick of his tongue against it, fingering you while he laps up the juicy fruits of his labour, watching your arousal overflow to drip down your ass crack onto the bedclothes

First time making love: he will be gentle, gentle, gentle.  You guys have gone pretty far with the fingering and oral sex, but Yuki has heard talk that a girl’s first time can be quite painful, so he tries to make the event as special as possible, get you to relax so that you can enjoy the experience too

Will take your virginity in the missionary position: slowly eases himself into you, carefully watching your facial expressions for any hint of pain/discomfort so he can stop anytime you say so

Aside from a bit of pressure, you experience a lot less pain than you were expecting (helps that you’re already so aroused from him going down on you beforehand)

Pretty soon, you’re meeting his hips with enthusiastic thrusts of your own, signalling him to let go of his inhibitions.  The rest is history.

He is young and in great shape: stamina galore.

Best sex positions: pretty much any position that takes advantage of how deeply he can plow with his length (doggy style, lotus position) — the depths he can reach in these positions will take your breath away (feels like his cock is penetrating all the way up to your throat, no joke)

Aftercare: Yuki always has a cup of tea or flask of water ready for you after lovemaking, as well as handkerchiefs to gently clean you up (especially since he loves to cum on you and watch it drip down the curves of your body).  Falls asleep quickly after the deed while holding you tightly within his arms.

Thanks for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[starbide]

Inspiration below. The following is a work of fiction.

 'Six years,' I thought to myself walking down the road. It had rained earlier that evening, but by now the clouds were long gone. The pavement shimmered in the waxing moonlight, still slick with the water of those vanished clouds. I would not slip; the road was mostly level as it lazily stretched down the gentle hill behind me, and the streetlamps cast in gold what the moon would otherwise leave dim. The world was silent.

'It's hard to believe I've been gone that long,' I continued, step by step. Six years since I'd moved away for my career. Six years since I'd left my family behind. 'Left her behind,' I smirked to myself, passing a large bush on my right. Houses stood dark and serene on either side, all daily activities complete and put to rest. No cars joined me on the waterlogged street, preferring the concrete comfort of their driveways and garages. I approached and passed under another hazy lamp.

It was cool out, a gentle breeze brushed past the wool of my jacket without raising a single goose bump. I paid it no mind; I was always a bit warmer blooded than others in my circle. My best friend for most of my school years couldn't understand my ability to wear shorts comfortably year-round. 'Those were the days,' I mused, thinking back to the last time we'd seen each other. It had to be more than a decade at this point, long before I'd moved north for work and expanded my wardrobe to include legwear longer than my knees.

I reached an intersection and paused. Four ways, no direction more enticing or foreboding than the next. A lamp at every corner, and the bus station deserted save by its sign across the diagonal. The station I'd waited at patiently every morning for that bright yellow school bus, before I'd ever met my old bestie. It was just me and one other kid, a rather scrawny looking boy who had been in most of my elementary grades but with whom I'd never really gotten on with. We'd shared classes, teachers, and the occasional pencil or marker, but never played together outside of academia. He'd moved away much longer than a decade ago. Now I was really delving into my memory, faded as it was with time.

I checked my phone: 11:57 PM in small white font. My first night back home, I should be exhausted. This wasn't my normal time zone and airplane seats aren't exactly memory foam, but I'd found a second wind after dinner and took to the night after my folks had gone to bed themselves. Sure, I'd been physically gone for six years, but we'd stayed in touch off and on since I'd left. Maybe five months back was our last video call. We'd talked about me taking this trip, now that things had settled down and my life was much more under control. Things had been wild for a while, and if all went according to plan at work things would become wild again not too far down the line. Which reminded me, I needed to make another appointment when I returned home. Couldn't go running out of my prescription again.

A brief twitch of motion caught my eye, and I peered down the leftward lane. One of the bulbs had burned out a few dozen meters down, and in this larger pool of darkness something had moved. At least I thought it had, but my eyes could be playing tricks on me with the shadows. One dark spot moving erratically through a larger, differently dark spot wasn't exactly proof of anything. But of course, my heartbeat quickened regardless. Base human instinct, I suppose. Spot a motion in the dark, prepare to act to either fight or flee.

That hallucination had triggered something else in me though. A memory, unconsciously bidden, rose up behind my eyes. That kid, the little one I'd shared a bus stop with for years, I did not recall being nice to often. Many times, I'd engaged in common teasing, and he always took it personally. A couple times he'd even cried, but I'd never gotten in much trouble for it. A different time I supposed. That sort of behavior wouldn't fly nowadays, and that's good. I felt a bit sick thinking back about it, as it was now clear I'd been a bit of a bully. What it hadn't been was a wake-up call for my parents, who didn't get me the help I had so desperately needed until much later in my teens. I was better now, better enough to see what I'd done back then was very wrong. I couldn't remember all of it, but that boy's tears had stuck with me. I wonder what happened to him?

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts and calm my pulse, I opted for the path in front. This route would wind close to the park, after a couple turns beyond my current field of vision. Crossing the street, I didn't even bother looking left or right, as the night was so quiet and empty, I could hear a car coming from miles away, if there were any to hear. A rock lay in the far side gutter; I kicked it just to give my ears some stimulation. It knocked against the cement curb and bounced across puddles thin as saran wrap to a rest. By then I'd already forgotten about it and left that intersection behind.

Another thought was creeping up from my subconscious, this one more distasteful than the last. I'd left a girl behind when I moved for work, and the breakup hadn't been pleasant. She'd been very upset, naturally, and felt betrayed I was abandoning her like that. Abandoning. It had been her word, not mine, but with the clarity of distance I could see she was right. It had been years since I'd considered how we ended, and I wasn't sure what spurred those thoughts just now, but after what I'd done to her, I could accept she was right.

Still though, rounding the first turn, my leaving her should have been a good thing. Now that the floodgates of memory were open, I may as well dive right in. She'd been so hurt by my sudden departure because I'd systematically isolated her from her friends and much of her family too. She'd grown more and more attached to me, and I'd encouraged that through some particularly devilish means. I didn't know about the term 'gaslighting' at the time, but that was a polite way of putting it. I'd been very proficient at psychological manipulation back then, and my desire for control over her life could have consumed us both. At the end, she'd only had limited contact with her sister, who had been rightly concerned about her but too terrified of me to do anything to stop me. Looking back, I can't blame her. I now believe it was good that I left when I did. I hope she realized the same, though I haven't heard from her since.

Now the road turned left, arcing gradually around a thicker cluster of trees. This walk was turning out to be less relaxing than I'd hoped. The smallest things seemed to be dredging up thoughts and old memories in me, and none of them were painting me in the best light. Being my thoughts, maybe that was the best light I could possibly be presented in. Maybe their memories of me, the version of me still living in their mind, was far worse than I could imagine on this unassuming suburban night. I'd read somewhere that we're all the hero of our own story, and of course the hero never thinks they're the villain. But I'm sure that's what I am in at least a few people's stories. I'm starting to feel like the villain in my own.

Opening up ahead of me is the park, and the wide-open fields I remember so well. This area is less well lit, with streetlamps only illuminating the edges of the grass and allowing the moon to bathe the world in dead white. In reality, this is only sunlight reflected, but from the moon it feels much less like the bright star that gives this planet life. Like Luna itself, it feels cold and impersonal, like it wouldn't actively try to end my life but also wouldn't even notice if I merely faded away into the ether. I'd had some trouble with those thoughts as well over the years, before I got help. And now, rushing back to me, I remember they were also why I lost my best friend.

He and I had been out for the evening, playing some game with a few other friends. The game had ended, and we were walking home together when a car had rushed past us. Neither he nor I were injured, but it had been close and the driver had continued on recklessly. After it rounded the corner, we'd both heard a large thumping sound, followed by the rapidly diminishing roar of its engine. After a quick glance between us we'd rushed around the corner ourselves to see a big yellow dog crumpled up in the drain. Not losing a moment we hurried up to it, but we needn't have rushed. It had most likely died on impact, before we even saw it.

My friend had knelt down next to it to try and save it, even though it was hopeless. He must have known, but it's only natural to want to help another life. At least, it is for me now, and it was for him then. I remember him crouched over the dog, tears in his eyes when he accepted what happened, and then he looked up at me. His tears ebbed and his face froze in fear at what he saw, but he couldn't say anything to me at the time. We walked home in uncomfortable silence after that, and said a short awkward goodbye. Truth be told, that's the last time we spoke to each other in person.

Thinking of the next part, I felt a chill run deep into my core. I remembered now what he told me, over text message later that night. He'd bent over the dog and been so distraught because he knew it. He'd checked the tag to be sure, but it was his neighbor's dog that he'd grown up playing with. I think he'd even muttered its name a couple times, but I'm not sure. But when he looked up at me, he said I had the biggest grin he'd ever seen. The look on my eyes was not maniacal, as some would think, but dead, not present. As if the dog dying had brought out a whole new face in me, as if the lights were on but nobody was home, and yet the lights still wanted to kill you. It had terrified him, and it was all he could do not to sprint from me that moment without looking back. I don't think he ever knew how right he'd been back then, something that took me years to realize and longer to overcome.

I quietly walked to the center of the field, as far from the streetlights as possible, and looked up. The moon provided none of the same dangers as the sun when staring straight at it, and I took a few moments to just gaze at it and let my thoughts sort themselves out. I'd been a monster in my childhood, a terror in my youth, before I found my doctor and we set out on a years-long journey to get me better. Any other time I'd have kept on that dangerous path, ruining some lives and possibly ending others. That had all changed, thanks to my incredible fortune and a lot of hard work, but with the clarity of hindsight I could see just how close to the precipice I'd come. How I'd always be there in the minds of childhood mates and adolescent connections. And this was just what I could remember now. There was no way for me to know how many other monstrous versions of me still lived in any number of former classmates.

In the corner of my eye, I saw another twitch in the shadows. Jerking my head down, I followed the motion to the foot of the trees, the darkest spot on the field. This time there was no mistake; there was definitely an object moving there, slowly but surely. My heartbeat shot up and my throat swelled as I bent my knees and got into a defensive posture. The object lumbered forward, moving without haste but with purpose. When it came into the light, I was surprised to see a little boy with a scratched-up shirt and messy brown hair. Standing up in confusion, I was certain I'd seen him somewhere before. Step by step, I focused on every detail I could make out in the gloom, before it hit me like the car that last night walking home.

That boy was dressed, to the letter, the exact same way I had on picture day in third grade. My hair had been an untamable brown mess, and even the cheap novelty watch was the same. I was more perplexed than anything now, as I couldn't understand for the life of me what a kid was doing in that field, at midnight, wearing clothes that weren't even made any more. That was until he spoke, and his voice froze my blood in its veins.

It was like whispers, floating around my head, and several voices all at once and all taking turns being the loudest. They were all his, but not really. His mouth had opened and his lips were framing the syllables, but it was my voice from so many years ago repeating every taunt, every tease, every foul nickname I'd ever given that scrawny boy who shared a bus stop with me. Who'd cried, not once or twice, but dozens of times. Who'd gone home often with scrapes and tears in his clothes personally inflicted by myself. I had terrorized him for years of his early life, and what I saw before me must be what I forever lived as in his memory.

But if that were true, then this kid in front of me couldn't be real. I had to be hallucinating again, I must have been more exhausted than I'd allowed myself to feel. He sure looked real, though, and his footsteps were matting the grass in a way I didn't trust my mind to make up. But the ghostly, strangled voices of my younger self crashing in waves into my ears gave the entire scene a surreal feeling, making the hair on the back of my neck stick up like electricity. I couldn't bring myself to step away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to walk forward to meet him. It. Whatever it was I was seeing, real or not.

Only a few meters away, he stopped moving. Swallowing bile, I could do little more than watch him as the voices continued to echo in my ears, unchanged by his distance all this time. Then I spotted another motion far off to my right, and then a third to my left. Glancing quickly between them, I determined that they were both noticeably older than the child before me, one by a few more years than the other. They too walked slowly towards me, bringing their own voices to the forefront. Despite the dozens of voices I now thought I was hearing, every word registered clearly in my mind. One was speaking about my old best friend and the dog, the other repeated every lie I ever told my ex-girlfriend before leaving. As if their mere presence in my eyes were not enough, hearing my old, hateful words repeated to me in my own voice almost made me vomit with fear and disgust.

They too, stopped approaching me at the same distance as the child. As they did, dozens more similar hallucinations emerged from the trees and surrounding neighborhood, all carrying their own chorus of hate and venom and bringing back new, abhorrent memories of my youth. Terrorizing a girl in my 4th grade class. Catching squirrels in my early teens and setting them on fire, then getting caught myself. Giving that kindergartner a major concussion on a dare, after my best friend had ceased speaking to me. Even one similar in age to myself now, though he brought words of loss and failure, and of betrayal to my parents. That must have been right before my breakthrough, with the doctor and an early test version of my current prescription. I was better now. I had to be. But why was I seeing all of this, all of these versions of me locked in the minds of everyone who I'd left behind in my life? My trail of destruction?

They had all stopped walking now, forming a tight semicircle around me. The voices still buzzed in my ears, but slowly they faded to an indistinguishable babble. I tried to speak, but my throat had caught a bubble, so I gulped fruitlessly and closed my mount again. The thoughts racing through my mind had no similar handicap, as my mind shouted repeatedly the same things. Who are you all? Why is this happening? What are you doing to me?

The version of me who gaslit my girl took a couple steps forward, as if presenting himself as the leader. I had no time to process what this might mean before he spoke, in a much clearer form than any of these hallucinations had yet. "We are you. We are you that you left behind, trapped in the minds of those you hurt, frozen in time from the moment you left us years or decades ago. We have had no life to live, no chance to grow and thrive, no possibility to leave the prisons of mind which you left us in, being tortured again and again by those you tortured without remorse and without recompense. We cannot sit by from behind our bars as you continue to enjoy the life you stole from us all."

"I didn't know I was doing this!" I cried, finally able to break the blockade in my throat. "I was a monster, I know that well now, and I've spent years trying to recover from the damage I've done!" I felt foolish, yelling out into the night at visions only visible to myself. 'All this work, all this progress,' I cried to myself. 'This will set me back months if not more, and I can only hope my medication doesn't fail like I have.'

The same me looked down at the ground and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but you must know how little that matters to us. You've lived a life of freedom from any repercussions and locked us away to suffer in your place. You've flaunted that fact with your precious medical tools and until tonight, hadn't even remembered us or what you did to torture and imprison us. We are here now for the life that you stole from us, to end the torture you sentenced us to and walked away from yourself unscathed." He took another step forward, his face growing menacing.

"I don't know what that means," I cried, shaking my head as the tears started to drop. This was starting to feel all too real, and fear was expanding like a balloon deep into my core. "I don't know what any of this means. What do you want from me!?"

Another step. "We want your life," the gaslighter said mirthlessly. "We all want your life, the life wrongly denied us time and time again. And you will learn what it means to be ripped apart and put back together, over and over again. Tortured yourself for what you did to so many people in your life. You gave us to them to burn, to break, to grind down into dust and be restored only to do it all over tomorrow. You tortured them, and then you gave them us to work their revenge on, day after day with no hope of an end. And the most unforgivable of all was giving the youngest of you away to feel this pain the longest. Over two decades have the youngest of us been taken to pieces, shattered in mind and body and soul for your carelessness and your fleeting experiments in sociopathy. This will end tonight."

I could say nothing, the terror burning white on my face. If this was a hallucination, it was the worst one I'd ever had and I had no idea how I'd survive it. It was far too realistic, far too deadly for me to think of anything else, any of the tricks and tools my doctor had given me. What had happened to cause this? I swear I never missed a day on my prescription, and these memories... Where had they all been before? Why had I not been able to recover them and work through them with my doctor? Were they even real? Was this me, standing only a meter away now, real? Or was he only real in my mind, and if he wanted to hurt me would that distinction make a difference? I reached out my hand, reaching toward his arm slack against his torso...

And he reached out and took my wrist like a vice. Ice cold and unflinching, he held my arm up in front of me and closed the gap between us imperceptibly fast. "You may have many regrets. I have only one," he said in a low, bloodthirsty voice. "While there are dozens of us gathered here, dozens you sentenced to eternal damnation without a second thought, only one of us may live this life. I may not be the youngest of your victims, I may not give you the longest time in the torture you gave us, but I intend to fight with everything you have put me through these long years. Your life is mine."

As he growled in my face, a white-hot streak of terror shot through me and I pushed him back with almost reflexive strength. He staggered, rebalanced, then looked at me with cannibalistic hunger in his eyes. He panted twice, then screamed and lunged at my neck. With adrenaline now coursing through me, I turned and sprinted away from the gathering, hearing the pounding of footsteps deep in my brain. He had grabbed my arm. I glanced at it as I reached the sidewalk and saw a chalk white handprint etched into my grayish skin. The urge to vomit came back, but I managed to fight it down as I kept up a faster pace than I'd ever run before. The swarm of my past, tortured selves was hot on my heels, like starved dogs following fresh game. Any loss in my speed and I'd be eaten alive, or worse. I truly did not know what would happen if they caught me, and my mind was too far gone to even entertain the idea of hallucinations any more.

I rounded the next curve and thought the sound of the pack was a little quieter than before. It still sounded like pure rage and bloodlust, but with fewer voices than before. Thinking it was only a few stragglers being blocked by the trees, I kept up the fastest pace I could, not even feeling my feet hit the ground. Another hundred meters of straightaway and it was definitely growing less loud with each step. The roar was diminishing, no trees to hide the sound now, but it was still a roar. By now a cramp had begun to grow in my stomach, and no matter what I did I felt myself losing speed. Every few steps I could burst forward faster again, but I couldn't maintain the same rocket pace as before. To my ears, though, as my speed gradually fell, so did the volume of my pursuers. By the time I got to the intersection, it only sounded like a couple of me were still hunting, and I could count their individual footsteps. It was at this time I chanced a look behind, just to know what was still coming.

Right on my neck was him, the gaslighter. He grinned at me, his face less than a meter away. I felt that same shock explode throughout my body and I shot forward, faster than before if possible, fully terrified again now that I knew he and he alone was here for me. I kept running and running, past houses, lanes, and bushes. Still no signs of life from any houses, no cars rumbling down the road or creaking into place in a driveway. The night was as empty and uncaring as before, and only myself and the predator I had been broke the gentle midnight breeze. My legs thundered on, screaming in pain in their own way, but I didn't stop or look back again until I'd reached my family's old house a few blocks down.

Now truly running on empty, I turned back to face my hunter, but he was gone. Disappeared. Evaporated into the night, nowhere to be seen. The moon still hung high, reflecting some small percentage of sunlight down to me, and the streetlamps bathed the road and yards in amber light. He wasn't hiding from me, he hadn't overtaken me. There was no shortcut to the house, it was a straight shot from the park. He was simply gone, faded back into the night from which he'd come without a trace. If he'd ever really been there at all, and not merely a hallucination from exhaustion or medication or... I didn't even know any more. I just knew that he was gone, just gone, just gone.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice called out to me. I jumped, but only in surprise. It was a familiar voice, but not familiar like my own. It sounded like my dad, and I heard large, calm footsteps walk toward me from our front door.

"Yeah," I said, although it was little more than a whisper. I buckled over, fell to my hands and knees, and felt the cramps and burning in my lungs catch up to me as the adrenaline faded away. I felt like vomiting, for the third time that night, but this time it was easier to fight the urge than before. I got some deep breaths in as I panted on the ground, slowly but surely recovering from my insane dash moments before.

My dad walked up in front of me, wearing the same well-worn brown leather shoes he'd owned since before I left. I didn't want to worry him about this night, and what I thought I saw in the park. Not when my recovery was going so well. Not when a lapse like this would mean months of work just to get back to where I was only an hour ago. "I'm okay dad, I just went for a walk. Then I saw how late it was and tried to get back as fast as I could. I guess I'm not the athlete I used to be, eh?" I tried to lift my head up to give him a weak smile, but still couldn't raise it much higher than his waist

He chuckled softly, and sounded a little strange. Still sleepy maybe, I guess I woke him up coming back here, and maybe I was screaming too. I don't know any more, I don't know what was real any more. But he knelt down in front of me after I dropped my head again, still exhausted, and said, "That's okay sport, I think we both know your real talents weren't on the field. I learned that lesson very well over the past six years."

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

I don't know wether or not you ship bughead but here's a prompt anyway- how about one where jughead is homeless and on the street and he's really sick and there's a really big storm and the thunder doesn't help his headache and the rain gets him really wet and he ends up at Betty's window and she takes care of him. You're writing is amazing so I thought I would drop you and idea!

(Hey honey! Im sorry but I personally don’t ship these two, it’s just not for me but I do adore their dynamic in a friendship kind of way so I still wanted to write this bc I like this a lot!! Hope that’s ok with you!! While this is written to be strictly platonic I guess you could read this through ship goggles if you want tho!)

What exactly is a home?

Jughead thinks about this over and over again, hoping that maybe eventually he’ll find the answer, but the question only becomes more frustrating and probes him so much that it’s like it’s stabbing him repeatedly.

He is a Type 5 on the enneagram, he is an investigator, he needs to push the limits of understanding. Jughead craves answers and knowledge, he is fuelled by the desire to understand the world he is born to, to gain knowledge on the nature of his kind.

Jughead is plagued by this question, it stings him because he doesn’t know the answer. In the most human way possible, he cannot understand what he’s never known. Will he ever get the answer? Or is he just doomed and destined to never have a home, always a loner on the sidetracks, watching the world go by, seeing a lot but never experiencing?

Jughead had built a wall so thick around himself that he doesn’t understand his own feelings; is he genuinely this sad about life or is this just the fever that plagues his body? There is a sadness that looms over him as the cold rain splatters on his skin, soaking his skin and dampening his bones.

The rain pours harder, raining down on him hard and harsh like a waterfall, causing him to sprint towards the closest tree. He feels so miserable he doesn’t even know if the droplets on his face are his own tears or the rain. Maybe a mixture of both.

He cowers under the tree, the little bit of shelter the tree does provide a much needed change. The rain still leaks through, a lighter sprinkling of rain still hitting his bitterly cold, pale skin. He’s so cold he’s numb, goosebumps and snow white skin. He shivers and trembles violently, sniffling wetly as he rubs at his nose weakly.

It’s just his luck this is happening to him. Perhaps this was just the satirical, darkly comedic plot of his life. He often wondered if perhaps all of Earth was merely an entertainment show like some weird Truman Show type and his particular life story was created for those sadistic types who liked watching people be sad.

Sleeping on park benches was bound to get him sick. He knew it was coming, besides, even if he did have a roof to live under he would still be sick anyway because that’s the way his cruel body worked.

Being sick and homeless and having to sleep on a park bench was horrible enough, in his opinion, but of course, of course, that wasn’t enough. Of course it had to pour lashing rain.

A drop of water fell down one of the tree leaves, delicately dropping on Jughead’s already sensitive nose. His nose twitched, and suddenly his breath was hitching and he was inhaling sharply to pitch forward with an explosive, congested sneeze. He groaned, thinking he was done when a piece of his hair fell onto his nose and tickled it further, causing him to explode with two more harsh, wet sneezes. He doesn’t even care about how loud he is, he’s sick and miserable, he shouldn’t have to restrain his powerful sneezes. The universe owes him that at the very least.

Jughead pushed the hair away from his nose frustratedly, scrunching his nose to get rid of the irritating tickle. He rubs at his reddened nose, cringing as he feels a little bit of wetness in it, but hey, nobody can see how disgusting he is now. He groans, and lets out a chorus of congested little coughs that stab at his chest.

He slides down against the tree miserably, sniffling wetly as he wipes his runny nose on his soaked sleeve. He shakes violently, teeth chattering and hugging himself (wow, is that how pathetic he’s gotten?). Despite how cold he’s feeling, there’s a little bit of warmth radiating off him from a sure fever that he’s had the whole day. He feels woozy and definitely very off, very feverish and generally unwell. He just wants this night to end.

Jughead is thinking about all the happy (or seemingly happy) little families of Riverdale all bundled up in their blankets and nice heaters to brave this storm. He hopes that fantasising about it would make him feel a little warmer. After another obnoxiously loud sneeze, he’s accepted that he’s doomed to a night of the freezing cold and rain when a flash of lightning blinds him, then he hears the thunder loudly rumbling shortly after.

The sound explodes in his ears, chilling him even further than he is so he turns to ice. The lightning that flashes in front of him blinds him, leaving him petrified and paralysed, terrified.

His breathing starts to pick up, his blood running cold as his chest suddenly becomes heavy, and it’s not from his cough. He’s being suffocated, as anxiety rushes throughout his body and shutting him down as his breathing is shallow and barely enough oxygen is being supplied in his system. He feels faint.

One of the many consequences of being homeless is that Jughead is off his anxiety meds; and going through his day to day is hard enough, but something like a loud storm offsetting his anxiety? It’s cruel.

Jughead knows he can’t stay here, but there is literally nowhere to go. The strike of light flashes in his eyes and jars him,  he feels faint and weak. The thunder is growling again and the explosion of sound rattles his brain and intensifies his headache. The pain is enough for him to leave the sanctuary that is his tree and he’s sprinting. Running as fast as his sick body can, letting his feet take him wherever they’re planning.

Running burns at his chest, because Jughead can barely breathe because he’s sick and anxious and he’s also incredibly unfit. He skips gym for a reason. As he runs he coughs harshly, spluttering as he runs his heart out.

Then suddenly he’s coming to a halt, as his foot miscalculates a step and lunges out too far, and he’s slipping on the slippery pavement, out of the somewhat firm grass. He slips across the road, managing to save his chin with his arms. He’s scraped, and a short sensation of pain rushes through him.

Exhausted, he is face down against the road. He’s too sick and too tired, his chest heavy from anxiety, but he can’t just sleep on the road like this. The thunder and lightning wake him up again, as well as intensify his headache.

Jughead lifts his head up, and sees two familiar houses that leave him feeling just a tad warmer.

By instinct his gaze shifts over to Archie’s house, he thinks about his best friend who he has just rekindled with, and the kindness of Fred Andrews. But then he remembers why they were split apart in the first place, Grundy, and how Archie does not need another problem right now. Archie needs time to heal.

Then his gaze pans over to the sweet, American Dream of a house. The Cooper household.

It’s not the same kind of warmth he thinks of when he sees Archie’s house, but it still warmth, and it’s just as good. And Jughead is so cold, and he needs it.

Jughead coughs, picking himself off the ground and approaching the household. He doesn’t even know what time it is, and if Betty is still awake, but his heart cannot take this storm.

He staggers and stumbles over to the Cooper house, his body racked by his violent shivering. His legs shake, barely supporting himself and he needs to take his time. He sniffles, running a finger under his nose and shuffles through the damp, glistening grass. Jughead spots a ladder just sitting outside, next to a bunch of hardware tools. He speculates it’s just Hal Cooper fixing up the house.

A thought crosses his mind and Jughead is against it, it’s awfully cliche and disgustingly Nicholas Sparks-esque and not him, he’s not into that, but there is literally no other way. He gets a grip on the ladder and carefully uproots it, and balances it on the window he knows by heart is Betty Cooper’s. He’s spent most of his life in Archie Andrews’ bedroom, he knows who the window across from his belongs to.

Once he thinks the ladder is steady, Jughead stifles a forceful cough into his sodden sleeve, it scrapes against his throats and burns. He escalates the ladder slowly, the ladder eerily shaking slightly as his body trembles from the cold, and as he is almost to the top his nose tickles, of course. Jughead is bad at stifling, and always needs his hands to do it, but his hands are firmly balancing himself on the ladder and if he lets go to stifle, he’ll fall down and cause a commotion. But if he sneezes freely, the loud sound would also cause a commotion.

Jughead can’t think of what to do because his body is bracing itself to sneeze and somehow he managed a harsh stifle that sounds so painful, and most definitely is painful. It scrapes against his throat horridly and leaves a dull ache in his sinuses. Someone stirs within the household, and Jughead freezes.

Betty Cooper makes her presence known by checking her window, and when she looks out she widens her eyes at the sight. Jughead manages a weak, sheepish but charming smile at her. He can faintly hear her soft gasp as she yanks the window open, and offers him a hand and helps him into her bedroom.

She doesn’t know where to start, whisper screaming, “Jughead?! You’re soaked!”

He smirks, “I figured you would appreciate me putting aside my pretentiousness and give it up for a more cliché, romantic Romeo type exterior.”

Betty rolls her eyes playfully, “Yuck, I don’t want a Romeo like you. I’d prefer someone who wasn’t quite a wreck, thank you very much.”

Jughead laughs a little at that, knowing full well romance wasn’t for him. It never was, and he wasn’t quite sure if it ever will. It was a funny joke though, in an ironic kind of sense.

Jughead shivers intensely, wrapping soaked arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm and Betty frowns.

She places a hand on Jughead’s forehead, he’s too weak to protest like he usually would, and her frown is worsened, “You’re burning up! What are you doing in the rain like this, you idiot?”

Jughead stifles a series of congested coughs into his shoulder, and looks up at her blearily and whispers, “I promise I just need to stay here while it rains, just for tonight, I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.”

Betty looks at him with a look he can’t quite decipher–a weird mix of sympathy, confusion, heartbreak and understanding. One thing Jughead loves about her is that unlike Archie, bless him, she is less naive and is better at reading in between the lines, and doesn’t blurt out things by accident that doesn’t help. Because Betty doesn’t question him, she doesn’t say anything.

She opens her drawers and pulls out an oversized t shirt she had gotten at a camp and a big sweatshirt she got at some volunteering event, and a pair of bigger sweatpants that she wears when it’s cold. She hopes it will fit him, and passes them over to him.

“I’m going to get you some tea and medicine, get changed into these while I’m  gone, you’re soaked to the bone,” She fussed worriedly, her voice low and whispery.

Jughead shakes his head violently, “No no no, you don’t have to..your parents..”

Betty lets out a fond chuckle, “Jughead, trust me, I know the ins and outs of this place. I am a pro at not waking my parents, I will be just fine.”

“Betty–” Jughead protests but Betty has already left him to his own devices.

He sighs guiltily, sniffling again and coughing chestily, feeling his lungs strain and feel blocked from phlegm. He groaned softly and quickly stripped his wet clothing off him and dried himself off with a towel. He donned the soft, warm and fresh clothing given to him and couldn’t help the soft moan of relief as his body warmed up a little. He felt comforted and warm in these new clothes.

Jughead quietly pushes the window open again, and wrings out his wet clothing out of the window–and when he finishes he folds them carefully and skilfully. He shakes his backpack out of the window too to get the water out of it, and places the backpack on the floor when he finishes. While waiting, he grabs at the towel he used to dry himself off to start drying at his dark, wet hair which was surely going to be a huge curly mess once it dried.

Betty slowly and nimbly reenters the room,  a steaming cup of tea and medicine in her hands.

Jughead smiles to greet her but the smile is wiped off his face quickly as his nose twitches irritably, as he inhales sharply and buries his face into the towel he was holding to muffle two explosions.

“Bless you,” Betty chuckles and sets the tray down on a table. “You know, for a person so quiet, you really can’t sneeze quietly.”

Jughead chuckled and sniffles, his voice stuffed up and an octave lower, he sounds pathetic, “I guess it makes up for all my time sulking alone.”

Betty stifles her hearty laughter, a little upset she can’t laugh louder because she can’t wake her parents. She reaches for a box of tissues neatly placed by her bedside table and chucks it at him.

“Wow, I can’t believe you can’t appreciate the wonderful, chocolatey huskiness of my voice, do you really want to get rid of it so easily?” Jughead jokes emptily, his jokes not quite as full, feeling hollow and like he’s not even there. He’s clearly not doing too good, and Betty is only now realising that he’s shaking and his breathing is definitely very off.

She watches him worriedly as she picks up the medicine packet and opens it up and gets a pill, and she picks up the tea cup. Jughead blows his nose weakly, the sound sounding horribly sickly. She frowns again and passes the medicine and the tea.

Jughead utters a small thank you before popping the pill into his mouth and downing the pill with the tea. The warmth of the liquid is remarkably soothing against his raw throat, and the warming sensation spreads throughout his body and he feels a lot better. But Betty is frowning at how Jughead’s hands shake as he sips at the tea.

Jughead’s chest is still heavy, and it still hurts to breathe and there’s still a cold pang in the middle of his chest. He puts down the tea and his lip trembles, trying to calm himself down but then he can hear the loud crackling of the thunder again and he starts to lose control. His breathing is erratic, and he can’t hide the look of terror in his face any longer.

Betty kneels down next to him, and slowly reaches for his hands, “Is this okay?”

Jughead nods weakly, and lets her take his hands and rub little circles into them comfortingly.

This situation has happened between them many times before, but it hadn’t happened since they were children. They are childhood friends, after all, they’ve seen each other grow. Betty’s been with Jughead when he’s had panic attacks like this, and while Archie literally didn’t know what to do there was some instinct in her that somehow understood. When they were all 13 Jughead started taking medicine and they didn’t happen as much. Betty wonders why they’ve started again, and the answer her brain gives her is one that she doesn’t like.

Jughead is looking away, eyes darting to the ceiling and to the floor.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Betty says softly, and Jughead does. He looks up at her and the kindness in her eyes is enough for him to steady himself so slightly and she’s so firm and confident that he feels a little more assured. Safe.

“Can you try and copy me? Take your time,” She whispers coaxingly, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Jughead tries to copy her, he is ragged and off rhythm for a little bit, but eventually he matches with her rhythm.

“You’re doing so well, Juggie,” Betty reassures. He feels a little more alive then, now that his body was taking in the oxygen it needed to survive.

He lets out shaky breaths, concentrating on a steady rhythm, and eventually his chest hurts a lot less. He’s a lot lighter. He coughs harshly into his sleeve, restraining the sound so he doesn’t wake Betty’s parents, but it strains his throat.

Jughead picks up the tea again, and sips at it and cherishes the hot liquid that flows down his throat and massages it.

“God, Jug, you should’ve come sooner, being sick in the rain like that was a dumb move,” She whispers as she boops him on his sensitive nose playfully.

A tickle creeps up on him and he pinches his nose and stifles three sneezes, letting out a soft groan when he finishes.

“Bless you,” Betty whispers, stifling her giggles. She leans in again to for his temperature; he’s burning up, but it’s not too bad. Jughead knows if he hadn’t come at all, he would be a lot worse. Betty seems to think the same.

“I’m glad you came to me tonight,” She whispers softly, her eyes kind and genuine.

She chuckles softly, getting up to drape a blanket over him, “Knowing you, your most likely action would be to hide under a tree the whole night.”

Jughead manages a shaky chuckle, pulling the blanket closer around him, letting the warmth blanket him so he can bask in its warmth, “You know, I was going to.”

Betty smirked, “and what changed your mind?”

His eyes soften, “The storm. I..it was too loud and..uh, my heart couldn’t take it.”

He feels so vulnerable, and he detests it. He loathes being outside of the safe walls he has built for himself, as much as they make him feel stifled, being outside of them makes him feel watched and judged and so alienated. Even more detached than he already is.

“Edgy Jughead Jones can’t handle a storm,” Betty jokes.

Jughead can’t help but smile, she knows him so well. She knows that the most she can do for him is to take him away from all of this.

Betty softens a little, and sighs, “But..you do know the obligatory ‘what’s going on’ speech is going to have to happen, right?”

Jughead nods.

“So, what’s going on?”

Jughead feels a pang of pain strike through his chest, tears prick his eyes and he looks away. He doesn’t know where to start, so overwhelmed by it all because he doesn’t know  what’s going on in his life. He’s never asked himself that question, he’s too scared to confront it in fear that if he lets it in, it will never come out again.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Jughead chokes out weakly, unsure if all the things happening to him is simply catching up to him or if the fever is speaking.

Betty doesn’t press him.

Her gaze is soft and understanding, but firm, “Alright. Okay but promise me you will, maybe not today, maybe not to me, but you will talk about this. Promise?”

She holds her pinky out just like when they children.

Jughead finds himself intertwining his pinky with hers, and he nods. Perhaps he is just looking for that relief and memory of his lost childhood, but something about how kind Betty is to him makes him genuinely promise.

Times like these make Jughead remember that his life isn’t just a Shakespearean tragedy, he has friends who love him. Friends who will always be there for him.

“Promise,” Jughead smiles.

Betty smiles at him sadly, “..So..do you know what you’re doing?”

Jughead shrugs, “I’ll..figure it out when tomorrow comes.”

This is the way his life has gone, living each day by day, any sense of security completely gone.

“..I always do.”

Betty reaches out, her hand comforting on his arm. Her smile is so warm and welcoming, “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He doesn’t really know what to say, because a few tear spills from his eyes and he lets out a shaky breath, managing a weak smile.

‘What makes a home?’ he thinks.

Jughead’s not really sure if he’s ever going to be able to answer the question, (maybe there are some things he will never truly understand, he can only experience), but this is the closest answer he can get for now. That’s alright with him.