#star trails and ash rails

[rookerystories]

Star Trails and Ash Rails: The Ship Part 1

“Hey Cap,” Vri came over the comm-line into Rei’s quarters.

“What’s up?” Rei answered. It should have been sleepily, but her body was conditioned to leap into alertness immediately. It did mean she was going to have one hell of a headache later though.

“I’ve got a Parishi distress signal in the next sector. Looks like an old prison ship.”

“What’s the status?” Rei got up and started to throw clothes on.

“Not sure, the signal’s pretty degraded. Could be old.”

“Could be a core leak.” She countered.

“Could be a core leak.” Vri agreed. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah, head over.”

“You got it. We’re about an hour out, if you want to get a team around.”

“Yeah,” Rei rubbed her face and thought a moment. “If Yllis and Dex aren’t up, wake them for me. Oh, and Karish. If there’s a core leak, I want him on site to repair it.”

“Done and done. I also told Neim to get coffee brewing in the mess.”

“What would I do without you?” Rei smiled and left her quarters, heading toward the mess.

“Probably die a painful, fiery death on a planet you couldn’t escape.”

“Cheery, thanks.”

“Always got your back, Cap,” Vri’s laughter sounded over the line and Rei rolled her eyes.

Five(ish) minutes later, Rei was dressed and stepping into the mess. The room, which was the largest on the ship, only held four people besides herself, leaving it eerily silent. While time wasn’t exactly easy to keep track of, Rei tried her best to run the ship in shifts that vaguely correlated to morning and night. And it was, by everyone’s estimate, the crack-ass of dawn.

“Morning Dex,” she greeted the tall, older man with burn scars over his left eye. The eye still worked, but the burns had never healed properly.

“Morning Dodger,” he replied with a wide grin. The old, familiar sense of waiting for a briefing slipped over her at his use of her old call-sign.

She signed “good morning” to Yllis, who could hear perfectly well but couldn’t speak. They were a great bear of a human, all muscle and experience, but they were also the funniest person Rei had ever met. They smiled at her, nodded, and took a long draught of their coffee.

A mug hit the table and Rei looked up to see the most important woman on the ship.

“You’re an angel among angels Neim,” Rei breathed in the heavenly scent of coffee that was too hot and too strong and took a long drink. The chef, who also happened to be the ship’s munitions expert, rolled her eyes and silently returned to whatever black magics she did to make coffee this strong.

For a few moments, the three old companions sat silently together, drinking their coffee and waking up. Carter “Dex” Brails had been a hot shot fighter jockey back during the war — something Rei knew because she’d been right beside him in her own fighter at the time. They’d known each other for more than 20 years and seen and done enough to not need to talk much about it. Yllis on the other hand, Rei had met five years ago while they were on a bounty run. They’d helped Rei out of a scrape or two at the time, and Rei returned the favor by offering them a security position on her ship. It worked well, and Rei trusted them with her life and the lives aboard, which wasn’t something she could say about everyone.

Karish dragged himself into mess hall 10 minutes later, looking like someone had run a train over his face.

“Boy’s got himself the log an’ slog,” Dex laughed.

Yllis raised an eyebrow and quickly signed a question about what that actually meant.

“Something my old man used to say. When you log into work and slog your way through the day without your brain on.” Dex didn’t bother attempting to sign; he’d never learned much more than the basics anyway.

Karish, meanwhile, had groaned, dropped himself into a chair, and let his head hit the table.

“Head up, young blood. We got work to do,” Rei said. She only let a small amount of her amusement into her tone.

“W’you need me for?” he asked, slurring his words in sleepiness.

“Get some coffee in you and wake your ass up, Karish,” the amusement was gone from Rei’s voice. This wasn’t a military ship by any stretch, but when things had to be dealt with, she needed her crew alert and active.

The sharpness of her tone did something to erase some of the young man’s sleepiness.

“Sorry Captain,” he said, blinking owlishly. “I don’t wake up very well,” he tried to explain but lapsed into silence when Neim brought over another cup of coffee and refilled everyone else’s.

“Best work on that, kid,” Dex said with a slightly too malicious grin.

“Enough, I didn’t wake all our asses up just so we could bull around coffee—”

“Nah, we can do that at an hour that ain’t this ungodly,” Dex interrupted and Rei threw him a look, to which he responded with a grin, but shut his mouth. Yllis was listening intently and watching her face, which had once been unnerving but now just told her that they were focused on absorbing as much information as possible.

“Vri picked up a distress signal from a Parishi ship. Thinks it’s a prison ship, but the signal’s degraded. Either it’s old or there’s a core leak,” she looked at Karish, “Which is why you’re awake. You think you’ll be up to repairing it?”

Karish thought a moment then shrugged. “Depends on what’s wrong with it. Gimme a few minutes to get some blood outta my caffeine stream and I’ll be up for just about anything.”

Rei nodded. “Good. Look, I don’t know the situation on board. Could be the thing’s been rotting for 20 years, adrift, and the signal ticked over. Could be slavers setting a trap for good Samaritans. That’s why you assholes,” she waved a hand at Yllis and Dex, who both grinned, “are here. Yllis is taking point, Dex, we’ll cover the kid. No one goes anywhere alone and we don’t fuck around exploring until we know what’s up. And Karish?” she turned a hard gaze at the engineer. “If you move an inch ahead of Dex and I, I will personally break your legs and carry you to the core. Clear?”

“Crystal, Captain.” Karish had blanched slightly at the hardness in her tone.

“Good,” Rei grinned again and took another drink of coffee. “I’m going up to talk to Vri, you lot get set up and ready to move.”

[betweenstorms]

Late night talks with Simon Riley

The balcony of your flat was surrounded by stillness, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the gentle autumn breeze, the distant hum of vehicles and the occasional hiss of your cigarette as you took a drag.

The city stretched out below you, its noise muffled by distance, streetlights glowing like indifferent stars. The cool air brushed against your skin like the lingering touch of a departing lover. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once and then fell quiet.

Simon Riley stood beside you, a looming silhouette etched against the night, the soft glow of a distant streetlamp tracing the edges of his massive frame. He leaned against the railing, arms crossed over his broad chest, his mask still in place even though you were alone.

He didn’t seem out of place, even in your silent little apartment, though his size and demeanour should have made him feel alien against the backdrop of your soft furnishings, pastel colours and faintly floral candle scent. Somehow, he belonged here in a way you didn’t entirely understand, just as he belonged anywhere he decided to stand.

And in that moment, you wondered if perhaps the truth was simpler—perhaps it wasn’t the space itself that had been shaped to make room for him, but you. You, drawn to his gravity, reshaping yourself to fit into his orbit without even knowing it. He belonged here, beside you, in the way that storms belong to the sea, in the way that shadows belong to the light. 

You tilted your head back, blowing a stream of smoke into the evening air, the grey tendrils dissolving into the sky that was kissed by ink. “Y’know,” you began, your voice quiet but steady, “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s muse.”

Simon didn’t move, yet you felt it—his attention turning toward you, like the faint pull of the moon on restless tides. He tilted his head slightly, a silent invitation, or perhaps a challenge.

You smiled at him coyly as you tapped the ash from your cigarette, scattering it into the night like fragile, burnt-out stars, lost to the endless abyss below. “I mean, like in art, poetry, music. I want to be the reason someone picks up a brush or a guitar, someone to feel something so deeply for me that they have to create.”

Simon exhaled sharply through his nose.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. It wasn’t vanity that spoke, but a quiet yearning to matter, to etch your existence into the soul of another as deeply as the stars carve their light into the sky.

“I want a love that hurts. The kind that rips you open. I want to feel it so deeply that it bleeds into everything I do. I want the kind of love that’d make me die for someone, kill for someone, and know they’d do the same for me.”

Simon grunted, the low, rough sound cutting through the fragile stillness like a stone dropped into water. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, more like the weight of disbelief, a scepticism carved from years of lived truths. His gaze shifted, leaving yours to trace the city below, where the streetlights bled golden, silver and ruby trails across the darkness. “You describe pain like it’s somethin’ noble,” he said after a beat, his voice low and clipped. “It’s not.”

You frowned, your brows pulling together as you turned to face him fully. “It’s not about the pain, Simon,” you argued, though your tone was softer than you’d intended. “It’s about what the pain means. It’s about knowing you feel something so deeply it’s worth hurting for.”

“Pain doesn’t mean love,” his voice was grounded in a pragmatism that felt carved from stone. “Pain just means pain. Doesn’t make it grand. Doesn’t make it art.”

You scowled, though there was no real heat behind it. “You’re no fun, y’know that?”

That earned a quiet snort from Simon, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing briefly as he inhaled.

“Better borin’ than daft,” he said, his tone almost teasing but still blunt.

“You just don’t get it.”

“Don’t want to,” he countered, his voice calm, unbothered, as if the subject held no weight at all for him. 

You didn’t answer straight away, letting the silence breathe between you. The smoke burned its way down your throat, sharp and biting, but there was a strange comfort in the pain, like holding a burning match too close to your skin just to prove you could, watching the flames die before they could hurt you. “You’ve never felt it, then,” you said at last, your voice quiet, softened by the weight of something unsaid. “That kind of love.”

There was no edge to your tone, no venom, just understanding, a threadbare truth spoken not to accuse but to surrender. It was a question in form but not in spirit, the answer was already etched into the spaces Simon left unfilled.

He didn’t answer, but his silence was a language all its own, louder and clearer than any words he might have spoken. You turned your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, searching his face for something, anything that might betray the man behind the mask. The faint light from the street below brushed his face, catching the edge of his jawline and the downward curve of his lips, but the rest of him was consumed by the dark.

“I think you’re afraid of it,” you said, your voice barely audible, a whisper carried on the faint wind. “Afraid of what it might mean. What it might take from you.”

Simon stiffened, the motion a whisper of tension that rippled through his massive frame, so fleeting it could have been imagined. But you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the barely perceptible tilt of his head as though your words had struck a chord too deep to ignore.

His gaze flicked back to the city, his jaw tightening.

“Maybe,” he muttered at last, the word low and reluctant, spoken like a confession he didn’t want to make, scraped from some buried place within him.

The silence that followed was vast, an ocean of unsaid things swelling and breaking over the edge of the balcony. And yet, in the spaces between your longing and his restraint, there was something unspoken, a fragile truth suspended like the smoke curling from his cigarette.

Perhaps he didn’t share your desires, your romantic ache for love and creation, but maybe he recognized it. Maybe he knew the weight of it, the way it pressed into your ribs and made the world feel both painfully beautiful and unbearably empty.

But he wouldn’t name it.

Simon Riley wouldn’t meet you in the light of your confession, wouldn’t extend a hand into the soft vulnerability you offered. The stars above blinked just as faintly as him, indifferent to the weight of your conversation, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of laughter drifted on the breeze.

But here, on this small balcony overlooking a world too big to contain you, the silence between you was everything.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[a-killer-obsession]

Smoke [Sanji x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

“Does it taste good, or do you just do it for stress relief?” You asked him, looking at the thin, white cylinder that hung from his mouth. 

"Why don't you find out for yourself?” He replied. 

CW: public sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, afab reader

WC: 1431 

Masterlist || AO3

The sea was calm, and a light breeze blew, the Thousand Sunny barely moving in the water as the wind gently filled its sails. The stars were on full display, a bright belt of glitter that spilt out over a dark blue blanket. Among them a half-hidden moon, bathing the ship in a subtle white light and making the shallow waves glisten as they caught it. 

You'd come out on the deck to stargaze, as you did most clear nights. It was one of your favorite things about being a pirate, full access to an unhindered sky. Growing up in the city, its sky polluted with light and masking the night sky, you had only dreamed of such a view. You stood at the rear of the ship on its upper deck, leaning against the railing and watching the sky. 

The quiet breeze blew and made you shiver, goosebumps littering your arms. A warmth suddenly enveloped you, scented with a hint of tobacco and herbs. Sanji had snuck up beside you, draping this blazer over your shoulders protectively. 

He leant against the railing beside you and you gave him a quick glance before returning your attention to the stars, admiring the way they sparkled. You heard the quick, distinct sound of a lighter open and close, and a trail of cigarette smoke floated from the ship. 

You weren't a smoker yourself, but you didn't mind the smell. It was Sanji's signature, so the scent gave you comfort. He would never let anything happen to you, even if you were relatively new to the crew. His unwavering dedication to women was a promise that you were always safe when you caught that scent. 

His arm pressed against yours as he wordlessly smoked, occasionally tapping the cigarette against the railing to shake loose the ash. You slipped your arms inside the sleeves of the blazer, wrapping it tightly around your front, it was a little large on you. 

Sanji tested his luck, shifting closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. You didn't deny him, he was attractive and you'd always enjoyed his company, and his warmth was welcome on a cool night like this one. He always seemed warm whenever he'd found an opportunity to be near you. Even at times when he'd sat inches away, you still felt the warmth radiate from his body. 

“Does it taste good, or do you just do it for stress relief?” You asked him, looking at the thin, white cylinder that hung from his mouth. 

Even under the faint moonlight you could clearly make out the shape of his handsome features, and the way he held the cigarette between his lips had always appealed to you. You took no shame in watching his mouth closely as he took a deep puff and pulled it away with his slender fingers, then he blew the smoke out of his mouth. It swirled and drifted away, dissipating into the cool air. He saw the way you watched him. 

“Why don't you find out for yourself?” He replied. 

You thought maybe he was going to hand you the smoke, but instead he took your chin in his hand, his thumb sliding against your bottom lip. His arm still held tight on your waist.

You opened your mouth instinctively, and he took another puff and brought his mouth close to yours, blowing the smoke into it. You tasted the tobacco on your tongue and it stung your throat, but at the same time a burst of electricity shot through your body. He watched your reaction with one sky blue eye, the other obscured by his blonde hair, a smug smile on his face. 

You needed more of that taste. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled you to him, enveloping him in a deep, passionate kiss, as his other hand flicked the cigarette into the sea before wrapping around the other side of your waist. 

One hand still held his shirt tight, while the other found the back of his neck, keeping him from escaping. Not that he wanted to. You felt his pants tighten against you as your bodies pressed firmly together. He groaned into your mouth, his tongue fighting against yours, and slid his hands to your ass, squeezing it before taking a firm hold, pulling you up and seating you on the railing. He pressed his erection between your legs and you moaned with need. 

You held his shoulders tight, making sure you wouldn't fall back over the railing. His hands found the hem of your skirt and pushed it up, revealing your panties and the wet spot that was quickly forming on them. You pulled yourself up on his shoulders, allowing him to hook his fingers under the band of your panties and pull them down. 

You spread your legs for him and his hand quickly found your sensitive bud, rubbing it skillfully in small circles while you whined into his mouth. He slipped a finger inside you, followed by a second, while his thumb remained firmly pressed to your clit. You threw your head back in pleasure as he pumped in to you, his spare hand wrapping around your waist to support you lest you fall into the sea. He admired the way you coated his fingers with your slick arousal.

You brought your mouth back to him, your hands running down his front now that you were sure he had you secure with his strong arm. You unbuttoned his shirt, flicking his tie over his shoulder to get it out of the way, and ran your hand down his chiseled front. You'd seen him shirtless before when the crew had spent time swimming, and the way his torso was carved out by his muscles had always sparked a fire in you. 

You didn't want to wait anymore, craving and curious at how he would feel inside you. You unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops with a flourish and throwing it to the deck. You followed up by quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them down, letting them fall to the floor, followed soon after by his underwear. 

His long slender cock sprung up, fully hard and begging for the tightness that could be found between your legs. Precum glistened on the tip, catching the moonlight. You stroked him firmly as he groaned, before grabbing his hips and beckoning for him to fuck you. 

He obeyed wordlessly, aligning himself with your entrance and pressing inside you. You took him inch by delicious inch, till his base pressed firmly against you and you both let out a deep, satisfying moan. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders again, and he held your hips firmly as he began his movements. Slowly at first, then gradually faster and deeper. You relished the way he felt inside you, stretching your entrance and rubbing against the spot inside you that made you moan the hardest. His head rested on your shoulder, his heavy breaths and quiet grunts making you even more aroused and needy. 

You lent back a little and reached a hand to your center, rubbing circles on your clit as your climax quickly built inside you. His own peak approached as well, and he increased his pace, fucking you desperately as the pressure built up inside each of you and your moans got louder and more carnal. 

Your walls squeezed around him as you came, your nails digging into his back, his shirt offering the only protection from you breaking the skin. He gave a deep groan and finished inside you, his cum filling you and dripping from your entrance as he stilled. He held you tight as you rested against each other, panting and coming down from your highs. 

You found his mouth again and kissed him deeply, a quiet thank you for bringing you to your competition. As you pulled away he sighed and slowly removed himself from you, the cool air sending chills through your body as it caught on your wet center. He helped you off the railing, then replaced his pants and slid down, sitting on the deck with his back to the banister. You rearranged your own clothing and sat beside him, resting your head against his shoulder, still trying to catch your breath. 

He wrapped his arm around you, holding your waist, as he slipped a new cigarette between his lips and lit it with his free hand. He took a deep inhale of it and blew the smoke back out, as you fell asleep against him. 

[lushaletta]

hide with me / james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mild swearing, mentions of mental health/anxiety, reader has a panic attack

summary: poorly written drabble in which you have awful anxiety and a lovely james.

a/n: i feel like this feels unfinished i’m so sorry… i clearly lost steam by the end but i hope you all like it! i am such a sucker for some james

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

It feels like the world is caving in on you. The ceiling is about to fall down and crush you under its weight.

The voices of those around have all mixed and faded into each other into a jumble of noise. You don’t quite know what Lily is saying, not even sure what Marlene is doing; you can hardly see anything.

A laughable attempt at taking a breath has you panicking more and you stumble out of Alice’s living room and onto her front patio as hot, salty tears sting your face.

The reason as to why you’re suddenly in this state has you confused. One moment, you’re fine and the next, you’re in full breakdown mode.

Fresh air. That’s usually all you need. You let the scent of pine fill your lungs, grounding yourself on the railing. You’re fine, you try to repeat to yourself. You’re fine.

“Hey,” a voice calls out. You whip around and spot a head of dark curls and pretty hazel eyes.

Him. You don’t know whether you’re happy or sad about his presence. There’s a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and he looks gorgeous as ever.

You’ve liked James a long time. Much too long. He’s liked Lily for longer.

You’re sure he knows about your feelings, you’d done a poor job at keeping them secret, and you’d be surprised if at this point he was unaware.

Remus knows because you’d confided in him first. He was sweet about it, stroking your hair and whispering kind words in your ear. Sirius knows from the “powers of deduction”, as he likes to call it.

“Hi,” he says, putting the cig between his fingers, flicking the ash off.

“Hi,” you reply, a little breathless.

He walks over to you, assessing your state. “Are you alright?”

He’s always been awfully caring. It’s half the reason you like him more than what’s healthy.

James knows your ins and outs. Your family history, all your favourite movies, how many freckles you have. He’s committed every part of you to memory.

He treats you like you’re fragile, like a porcelain doll. As if you’d break when dropped.

Maybe it’s self-righteousness. Maybe he’s doing it out of pity. Though, in this moment, it feels anything but.

“Just fine,” you whisper, staring at him so deeply it’s embarrassing.

“You ran off.”

You laugh a humourless laugh. “Did I?”

James nods, looking like he’s inspecting you. It makes you feel a little self-conscious.

A smile creeps across your face. It’s really only to conceal the awkwardness. “What?”

“I think we’re past the point of pretending everything is alright when it isn’t,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Will you tell me what happened?”

The bluntness of his words makes you nervous. He’s not typically so forward.

“I was overwhelmed.”

His arms lace around your shoulders. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, let’s go, then,” he says, decidedly.

It’s a tempting offer. Being dragged away from all the noise and instead spending the night with James, but you don’t want to disrupt his evening with your feelings. He likes these people. He’s comfortable with them. He’s not like you, you say to yourself.

“No. I’m fine, James, really. Please don’t worry yourself.”

“I was kind of getting tired anyway. We can grab food and you can sleep at my place for the night, hm?” he insists, putting out his cig.

He’s doing it again. That thing where he’s just being so considerate and kind to the point that it bothers you.

“I..” you trail off, looking at the stars instead of his eyes. They’re both really beautiful.

“I’d like for you to come with me, sweetheart. Let’s get away. Just for a bit,” he tries again, gently tilting your face towards his.

You’re going to come with him. You were going to the first time he asked, no matter what, but you need to hear that he wants it.

You crack a smile. “Okay.”

Before midnight, you’re in his car. It’s a bit beaten up and the engine takes a couple of tries before it starts, but it’s a charming vehicle. He’s ordering fries for you, doing all the talking you’re so hesitant to.

There are muffled voices over the speaker. “Just a moment.” James turns to you. “Want a coke, baby?”

You nod, tapping your fingers on the window and fumbling with the button of your seatbelt.

He hands you a paper bag.

“Thank you, James. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me instead of with Lily at the gathering.”

His face contorts into a look of slight confusion as he grabs a fry from your hand. “Why would I want to be with Lily?” It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with Lily, it’s just that you could’ve asked about Sirius or Remus or even Frank.

“I mean, you like her, don’t you?” you say, voice quivering. Afraid of the answer.

“She’s a nice girl.” It’s not a no. You’re crushed. You nod your head like you’re unsurprised.

A forced smile makes its way onto your lips. “You two would look good together,” you say, hushed.

His brow quirks. “What? No.” It comes out a little sharp, and he immediately softens. “No, it’s not like that. Sorry.”

“Oh.” You hate yourself for it, but you feel your body immediately relax in relief.

Now he’s the uneasy one. His fingers are tapping on the steering wheel and he’s clearly purposely avoiding your gaze.

“Listen—“

“—I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “Sorry, you first.”

The car comes to a stop at some dark parking lot. James turns to face you. “What are you apologising for?”

Even you’re not too sure. It’s a mix of a few things; Lily, forcing him to stay with you, your anxiety, interrupting him, even. A general apology for your.. you-ness.

“All this. I just want you to be happy, James. I’m really sorry for always making you do this. Comfort me whenever I’m overwhelmed like that.”

He blinks. “I’m happy when I’m with you, sweetheart. Why don’t you understand that I enjoy doing this? I love when we escape from those dumb gatherings and do shit like this. I love it. I love you, damn it.”

Your heart drops. No, it stops. He had to be drunk. He was driving under the influence, surely. A crime. That’s a felony. Your head was absolutely spinning.

You don’t know what to do but stare blankly at him as his face asks you to just say something.

“What?”

“I love you! I don’t even know where you got that whole Lily thing. I love you! It’s always been you!”

Well, shit.

You lower your voice to a whisper. “So do something about it, Potter.”

And he does.

[temporaklepticgalanty]

A Non-Comprehensive List of Aspectish Nouns

Abbs, aches, acts, aims, air(s), alms, airde, amps, angst, arcs, art(s), ash,

bags, bails, bait(s), bales, balls, bands, bangs, bark, bells, belts, bends, berths, binds, births, bites, bits, blades, blame, blanks, blasts, blight, bliss, blobs, blocks, blooms, blunts, blur, bolts, books, boons, bounds, bows, braids, brains, brands, brawls, brawn, breadth, breeze, brews, brinks, brooms, bulbs,

cairns, cards, canes, casks, cells, chains, chants, charts, chests, chords, coins, clout, clouds, cords, crafts, crows, crimes, crowds, crowns, crusts, crypts, cubes, cues, cults, cups, cysts,

dams, darts, dawns, deaths, debts, depths, dice, dreams, droughts, drums, dunes, dusks, dust(s),

eggs,

facts, fakes, fangs, fates, fires, flames, fifes, flats, flaws, flies, flint(s), flips, floods, flows, fluffs, flutes, fog(s), fonts, foods, forks, forms, fright(s), frosts, fruits, funk,

gags, gains, gales, gasps, gates, gears, gems, ghosts, gifts, globes, gloom, gloves, gourds, grails, graves, grids, grime, grit, groove(s), grounds, groves, growth, goth(s), gusts,

halls, harps, hawks, haze, heads, heaps, hauls, health, hearths, heed, heft, heights, heists, hell(s), helms, hems, herbs, herds, hills, hives, hoards, hooks, hoops, hordes, holes, horns, hosts, hounds, howls, hues,

imps, ink,

japes, jaunts, jests, jewels, joints, joists, jokes, jolts, joy

kilns, knives, knits,

lairs, lakes, larks, laughs, lawns, leaves, lengths, lines, links, loam, locks, looms, loops, luck, lutes,

maps, masks, means, meat, might, mist, milk, mobs, moods, myths,

names, nerves, nights, nodes, noise, norms, notes,

oil(s), ooze, ores, orbs, oars, oughts,

packs, pacts, paints, pangs, parts, pasts, paths, pikes, pipes, plagues, plains, planes, planks, plinths, plots, ploys, plows, pluck, points, poles, ports, praise, pranks, prayers, prey, primes, probes, proof(s), prose, pull(s), push, punk(s),

qi, quakes, quales, qualms, quarks, quests, quills, quilts, quirks,

racks, rafts, rags, raids, rails, rain, ramps, range, ranks, rants, raps, rats, rays, reach, realms, reams, reeds, reins, rests, rhyme(s), riffs, rifts, rings, risks, rites, roads, roars, rooms, roots, ropes, rot, routes, rows, rules, runes, rungs, ruts,

sails, sand(s), salt(s), sauce, saws, sax, scales, scams, scars, scares, scarves, scenes, scents, schemes, schticks, scope, scores, scorn, scrap(s), scrawls, screams, screens, screws, scripts, scrolls, seams, seas, sects, seeds, shacks, shade(s), shame, shapes, shards, sharps, shawls, shields, ships, shoots, shoulds, shouts, shreds, shrouds, sides, sighs, sights, signs, silk(s), silt,

sims, sins, sites, size, skates, skeins, skies, skills, skulls, slabs, slag, sleep, slime, slings, slits, sludge, slums, smiles, smog, smoke, snacks, smurfs, snails, snakes, snarls, sneaks, sneers, sniffs, snow, soaks, soap, soil, songs, sores, sounds, spades, sparks, spears, speech, spells, spheres, spice, spikes, spills, spines, splits, spoils, spooks, spores, sports, sprawls, sprays, spring(s), sprites, sprouts, spuds, spunk,

squads, squalls, staff/staffs/staves, stains, stairs, stakes, stamps,  stars, starts, states, stats, stealth, steeds, stems, stench, steppes, steps, stew, stitch, stick(s), stilt(s), stings, stinks, stipes, stives, stock(s), stone(s), stools, stops, storms, stoves, strain, strands, straw, streams, strength, stress, strides, strife, strikes, stripes, stuff, style, suits, sump(s), suns, surf, swag, swales, swamps, swarf, swarms, swells, swines, swords, synths,

tacks, tag(s), taint, talc, tales, tarns, tarts, tasks, tears, tech, teeth, tents, tests, text, there, things, thirst, thneed, thorns, thrills, throats, ticks, tides, tines, tints, tithes, toads, tombs, tomes, tones, tongues, tools, torque, toys, trails, trains, traps, trash, trees, tricks, tropes, trust, truth, tubes, twine, type(s),

valves, vapes, vaults, veils, veins, verse, vibes, vines, voice, vows,

walls, war, wards, warmth, wastes, waves, wax, ways, weal, wealth, webs, weeds, wells, what, when, where, who, why, width, wile, will, wind, wine, wings, wire, wit, woe, wood(s), words, work, worlds, worms, wounds, wrath, wrongs, wyrd, wyrms,

yokes, yolks,

zeal, zen, zilch.

Also, red, blue, black/jet, gray, white, gold, green, bronze, plum, cream, jade, lime, mauve, tan, beige, brown, peach, pearl, pink, puce, rose, rust, slate, taupe, teal, wheat. Colors are so abstracted that they can be made to mean anything. I'd recommend rust, bronze, gold, lime, green, jade, teal, blue, plum, pink, pearl, jet, but maybe that's just the ol’ brainworm wiggling.

All entries are monosyllabic with my pronunciation. Bolded items are those I feel are particularly potent. Italicized items are those I feel are particularly weak or otherwise humorous. Most of these are more appropriate as components of lands than full aspects, but "void" and "space" are both stretched beyond recognition in canon (not even touching blood and rage) so, honestly?, just do whatever. For best results, they should be conceived of as sets, which I can provided when sufficiently distanced from sobriety. Thematic links will elevate anything.

[mare--noctis]

slow dancing with astarion?

this one kind of got away from me

send me prompts!

Naithrel evorlethor eryndorael esilissyr

(Together we shall dance under the starry sky)

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion x You (gn terms) CW: Established Relationship, Slow-Dancing, Mentions of Cazador, Implied Past Trauma, Word Count: 2,053

Astarion has snuck away from the party and Tav goes to find him, slow dancing ensues

It takes a moment to notice what was wrong with the scene in front of you. Happy faces cajole with each other in the tavern, flasks of ale slopping over bench tops as the people toast to the good health of every living thing. The troupe in the corner belt out tune after tune, the younger folk pairing off to dance while the children run under table legs in an elaborate game of chicken-chasing: the fan-dangled party game you introduced to the townsfolk. You spy Karlach - having recently acquired the ability to touch others without turning them to ash - challenging anyone in the vicinity to arm wrestles with a steadily growing pile of coin beside her. Gale and Shadowheart stand near one of the rear walls, talking quietly and observing the merriment through weary eyes. Lae’zel stoically bears the weight of a child’s curiosity as the tiefling children you rescued crowd around to hear her war stories. Even Wyll is deep in the goblet holding court with an enraptured audience, swapping tales of derring do with Halsin to the delight of the fans.

Then it hits you. That flash of white hair, usually swindling someone of their coin while in an inebriated state, was missing. You scan the room one more time to make sure, to no avail. Astarion wasn’t here.

Disengaging politely with the wife of the mayor you were chatting with, you slip out of the main room towards the stairs that take you to the rooms above. The inn-keeper had given you rooms on the top most floor, away from the smells of the stable yard below with a pretty little prospect of the town green. This was where you were headed now, leaning on the wall to stay steady as the bottles of Chultan Fireswill catch up to you. Astarion’s room is empty at first, but you spy the ornate clothes he had dressed in for the celebration tossed haphazardly over the end of his bed, and the cool breeze against your cheek alert you to the open balcony doors.

Astarion is there, one hand smoothing over the knots and whorls in the wood, eyes fixed on the glint of ship lights in the far distance. You study him for a moment: the moonlight turning his white hair into shining silver, as is spun from the finest silk this side of the Greypeak Mountains, his pale skin looking as if it was carved from the purest marble.

You intend to walk over and join him quietly, but your little toe against the edge of the cabinet had other ideas, muffling several curse words as the marble shoulders tense. You shake off the pain and continue forward, out into the cool night where there was nary a cloud in the sky. Stars wink back at you as you settle in next to him, the warm press of your bodies pleasant in the night air.

“You’re turning into Wyll” you say after a long moment, watching the sails sway on the ocean. “All this sneaking off at parties, he’s a bad influence.”

Astarion barks a short laugh at that and focusses his attention to tracing the grain of the railing.

“Everything ok?”

You feel the sag in his body as he deflates a little, leaning closer into your warmth.

“Nights like these… people partaking in frivolous amusement… serves as a stark reminder of what I am” he says bitterly.

You link your pinky around his, eyes firm on the horizon as he stops tracing the wood and starts tracing the lines on your palm.

“Everything I drink tastes like vinegar and everything I eat tastes like ash…” he trails off, following a deep blue vein up along your forearm. “And now that we’re near the city, I…”

He falters, stilling cool fingers in the crook of your elbow to feel the thrum of your fast-beating heart. You turn to lean a hip against the railing, starting your own tracing from his hand up over his bicep, over his neck and cheekbone to brush curls delicately over one pointed ear.

“I can’t escape the memories of what Cazador made me do in establishments such as this” he finishes quietly, thumb gently brushing the side of your elbow as his gaze falls to the floor. You pull him into a hug, arms looping low around his slender waist as his go around your shoulder, face burying into your neck.

You noticed over the course of your relationship how little Astarion got to experience intimacy for intimacy’s sake – the nights lounging by the fire in his lap with a book Gale recommended open between you as you read passage after passage, a kiss brushed lightly over a cheek when greeting him after time apart, the languid kissing in the wee hours of the morning when neither of you could sleep, hands exploring gently without intent – and just how much of his sexual proclivities were only about the sex.

Those nights curled up in each other’s arms quickly became tradition, whether you were reading a book, or swapping stories from your childhood, or discussing the finer points of caring for cashmere cloth while travelling, and your companions quickly adopted your tent as extra storage since you rarely spend any time in it. Gale would comment on it occasionally, comparing Astarion to Tara with the way his eyes gleam possessively if someone got too close, and you have caught Halsin on more than one occasion studying the two of you with poorly concealed desire.

The sex was great, as it had always been, but once you were past the awkward admissions of power and manipulation you realised that Astarion had no idea how to be in a loving relationship. His boundaries were set it all sorts of fucked up ways, twisted and warped by Cazador and his own self-loathing, and they were your challenges to unravel – one experience at a time.

Amongst the sanctity of your companions, Astarion could hardly bear a minute without your touch in some way; a hand on the shoulder, a ruffle of hair, a peck on the lips in passing. He always found some way to bump your hip while working, to trace a finger down your arm, to wrap his hand around whatever limb he could reach.

He craved the warmth of your skin. You always lamented at how you ran hot as a child, sweating it out over brutal summers, but it is a blessing in disguise as you lay wrapped around each other of an evening, cold lips pressed to a warm neck and legs tangled in perfect equilibrium.

You begin to walk back slowly, pulling Astarion with you as he catches your gaze. Inky black eyes in the moonlight turn to soft red inside the room as you light the candles with a soft word. He presses a kiss to your neck, your jaw, your cheekbone, over your nose until your lips meet softly, tenderly as hands splayed over your shoulders push you closer together.

“Wait, my love” you murmur, smiling when he chases your lips with a pout. “I want to dance.”

His face falls minutely, then fixes in a pleasant smile.

“By all means darling, let’s go downstairs and rally the band!” His laugh is forced so you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, kissing him quiet. You pull back and close your eyes, focussing on the smell of Astarion’s parfum, the taste of wine on your lips, the touch of gentle hands on your back, and you reach into the Weave.

Pleasure swirls around you, tendrils of intent wrapping around your hand as you lifted it between you two to show him the purple essence. You hum the tune in your head and will the music into existence, eyes opening triumphantly as the sounds of a flute and harp echo softly around you. Astarion’s eyes never leave your face as you take one of his hands and slide the other around his waist, desire and an amount of trepidation clear as day.

“I don’t want the band” you say simply, swaying with the music. “I want to dance with you.”

Astarion’s smile is purer than anything you have ever encountered as he takes the lead in waltzing a slow, haphazard circle of the room. “My darling” he whispers, kissing you deeply before guiding you through a slow spin. “My love.” You come back to his arms feeling lighter than a feather, adoration for your lover swelling until it felt fit to burst from your chest. Something must have shown on your face because his eyes crease in amusement, lips pressed to your temple as you sway to the melody. “My divine grace. You are surely a succubus sent to capture my soul for I don’t understand how I deserve to know your love” he says quietly into your hair, thumb idly stroking the small of your back. You go to speak but he silences you with soft kiss, pulling away the barest amount to speak as if his words were a sacred prayer. “You have been nothing but kind and patient -  accepting my faults without condescension or malice. You have taken my broken spirit and breathed life into a long-dead heart with nary a thought to compensation.”

He stills in the middle of the room, red eyes bright with wonder, the hand holding yours coming up to cup your cheek. Tracing his thumb over your bottom lip he draws you in for a deep, tender kiss, pulling your bodies so close you are sure you will melt into him.

“I might have stayed the irascible, wounded man incapable of leaving the shadows of my past if you had not taken my hand and drawn me to the very light I avoided for nigh 200 years.”

Your heart beats rapidly, surely to burst out of your chest as you tighten your arms, trailing kisses down his temple and jaw. He has come so far from the man you met by the nautiloid crash; a man who closed himself off from anything that could possibly hurt him, hiding pain and uncertainty behind a veneer of snark and derision. It seems a lifetime ago to the man currently in your arms, and if all goes well, he shall stay there for a lifetime to come.

“For the first time in 200 years I am hopeful for my future.” His voice was small, but the conviction was clear. “For the first time… I imagine a life with someone by my side. I could never have hoped to experience the love you have so freely given me, when all you received in return was lies and attempts at cohesion.”

You smile at that, bringing one hand to cover the one on your cheek and the other to press over his still heart. “I would have made do” you tease, pleased to see the joke land positively. “I am so proud of you Astarion. From the first moment we shared, your vulnerability – even though it pained you at the time – is something I will treasure forever. I see the light in you, my love, and it is breathtaking.”

The candlelight seems to pulse with your words, glowing even brighter as the music swells to a triumphant chorus.

“You are deserving of a happy ending my darling elf. My only wish is that I am written by your side when our stories are told.” Tears well in your eyes and spill but you find you don’t care, pressing a kiss to the tear tracks on Astarion’s own cheek. He pulls you towards the bed and helps you rid yourself of your party clothing, settling alongside you under the rough sheets as you will the music to cease. The candlelight dims and you drift into a contented sleep, lips pressed to your hair murmuring loving epithets until your eyes droop. Just before they shut, you hear the familiar lilt of Elvish;

“Leuthilsel, delaesyrn eni, su'lmélo. Phorael'sar nindol su'linueth natha. Ren amin mindelara, natha darthas. Galennor tuulo’laer, eldalié. Syl’esske, melamin, melme’amin. Sylvaris, lyrie’nythas, varulitharien. Naithrel evorlethor eryndorael esilissyr.”

You smile through the tears and press a soft kiss to Astarion’s throat, finishing the vow in a voice laced with happiness.

“Ai’tel’quessir, mirimaar amin, nindelar. Leuthilsel mirimaar tel’quessir. Tel’quess eni.”

Here is the translation of the Elvish:

“My beloved, heart of mine, forever. By the stars’ grace we are bound. In your eyes I find home, my heart rejoices. Forever we walk, together. For all eternity, my love, my soul’s mate. Sylvan beauty, my heart’s delight, enchanter of the woods. Together we shall dance under the starry sky.”

“To the elves, our people, we shall belong. My beloved among the elves. My elf.”

Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! K

If you would like to be added to the Astarion fic tag list please comment a 🩸

[kingofdorkville]

Title: Keep on Smilin'

Ship: Mike x Pete Nelson

Words: 760

Description: Safeshiptember day 18: smile.

The train chugged along on the rails, taking the circus to the next town. It was a warm night, and Pete leaned on the window, watching the trees zoom by in the dark. The moonlight bounced off the grease in Pete's hair, making it shine. His brown eyes twinkled like stars.

He had a gentle sort of smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners. It made his eyelids just a bit more puffy, adding to the beauty of his eyes. The wind blew his curls gently. Mike wished they could snap a picture then and there.

He reached into the pocket of his slacks, pulled out his carton of cigarettes and took one. Mike’s eyes followed his hand down to his hips as he did so, appreciating the way his slacks fit around his waist. Just a touch of tummy came forward through his slacks, making the fabric bend around it ever so slightly. This was Mike's favorite part.

He flipped the top of his lighter and lit the cigarette into a cupped hand. He took a long drag then blew out the smoke, sending it into the night air. He had a particular way of doing it: he always blew out of the side of his mouth. It made him look a bit silly for a moment but he always looked all the more pretty afterwards. They couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way he moved his mouth.

He continued to smoke his cigarette and stare at the moon. Mike couldn't bring themselves to interrupt him. They watched the twinkling in his eyes and the moving of his mouth. They watched his big hand move toward and away from his lips.

He stopped for a moment, just letting the cigarette burn in his hand. He flicked the ashes out the window.

He continued on like this for a while. Mike wondered if he might turn around and catch them staring.

He took his last drag eventually and threw the rest out of the window. He leaned against the window again with both arms. Their eyes were drawn to the tanned skin on the back of his neck, where his hair came down in a rounded square shape. They wanted to kiss the nape of his neck, but refrained so as to not scare him out of his skin.

His gentle smile returned to his face, once again illuminating his eyes.

“You're really pretty, you know that?” Mike asked suddenly.

Pete jumped a little and turned around. “How long have you been standin’ there?’”

Mike smiled. “Long enough.”

“You, uh, make a habit of watching guys smoke?”

Mike stared at him for an extended period of time.

“Just the handsome ones,” they said finally.

Pete smiled wider. “You enjoyed the view?”

“Immensely.”

He walked up and slid his arms around their waist. He slid his face into the crook of their neck. Mike could feel his heartbeat against their own. “It's pretty out tonight. The moon's full.”

“I know something else pretty,” Mike said, not feeling the need to elaborate.

Pete moved his head so he could nod and flash his signature grin. “I do too. Real pretty.”

Mike blushed. “I walked into that one, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you walked right into this,” Mike said, leaning in to kiss him. His lips were soft and warm. He tasted strongly like tobacco and the sandwich he'd had for dinner. They kissed him harder anyway, bringing a hand to gently scratch his scalp. He held them just a bit tighter.

He smiled into the kiss and savored every moment of it. When the kiss broke, he trailed gentle kisses along their chin. His lips tickled their skin and made them shiver.

“Can you do me a favor?” Mike asked.

“What's that?” he asked against their skin.

“Never stop smiling.”

He chuckled warmly. “As long as you're here, I have somethin’ to smile about.”

Mike ruffled his curls. “You're a big sap, you know that?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “But it's your fault. I'm in love with you.”

Mike kissed him again, softly this time.

“Do you love me too? Hm?”

He littered their neck with kisses.

“You know the answer to that.”

His lips ghosted over their neck. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Mike shivered again. Mike gazed into his eyes as he looked up, brown like melted milk chocolate.

“I love you. More than anything. You know that.”

He grinned again. “I sure do.”

The stood there for some time in each other's embrace, taking in each other's scents and heartbeats.

[chipen]

the night drips with quiet tension, air thick with the scent of ash pervading the hollow space between them. their leader took the loss at kamino harder than anyone else did. of course he would – in the blink of an eye, he’d lost the hideout, and his mentor, the one whose approval he craved with a devotion that burned fiercer than the flames they wielded ... a story all too familiar for one who once bore the weight of the todoroki name like a curse. from the corner of his eye, dabi watches shigaraki, his form a fragile silhouette carved from moonlight, delicate in a way that belies the ruin trailing in his wake. he shouldn’t think it—shouldn’t let his thoughts dwell on how pretty the shadows make him look, the strange beauty that the darkness lends him, softening the edges of destruction. but dabi can’t help himself. he could blame the fact that he’s currently not in the right state of mind. instead of turning away, he lets his gaze settle on him in its entirety. maybe it’s the quiet rage simmering just beneath the surface, or the way he stands like he’s always on the edge of breaking, but never quite does. maybe it’s the glimpse of softness he’d catch in fleeting moments, beneath the blood and dust. or maybe it’s that they’re the same. two sides of the same coin. ❛ you look like hell. expected a little more from someone i’m supposed to call my boss. ❜　dabi murmurs, voice rough, scraping like embers catching the wind. without thinking, the villain closes the space between them, arms moving of their own accord, but still careful in a way he usually isn’t as he pulls tomura against him. the heat of his body melds with the cold still clinging to the other’s skin, scarred hands ghosting over his scalp before tangling in silken gossamer, a gentle tug guiding tomura’s gaze to meet his own.　❛ so get it together. let me take care of you. ❜ / @gokunoban

HE  FINDS  HIMSELF  ADRIFT  AGAIN,  LOST  WITHIN  the  liminal  space  of  waking  and  dreaming.  too  many  times  -  tomura  has  found  himself  alone.  his  family?  he  ended  up  alone.  society?  alone  there  too,  no  one  reaching  out  to  a  scared  and  helpless  child  who  had  just  decimated  his  entire  family.  and  sensei?  never  truly  with  him,  but  perhaps  he  was  as  close  as  tomura  got  to  'having  someone,'  and  now...  now  because  of  his  foolish  plans,  his  inability  to  read  just  how  much  all  might's  'symbolism'  had  brainwashed  one  impudent  child,  the  bar  was  gone  -  and  his  master  along  with  it.

he's  always  alone  at  the  very  end.

from  the  new,  dingy  safehouse  they'd  secured  -  shigaraki  perches  on  a  rickety  balcony,  staring  at  the  cloud  veiled  stars  in  the  sky.  devoid  of  the  comforting  embrace  of  his  family  -  he  just  seems  a  wilted  young  man  -  head  hung  low  and  his  back  bowed.  both  hands  rest  upon  the  railing,  four  fingers  intact,  and  he  shivers  in  the  cool  air  -  corpse  like  body  perpetually  cold.  it  hurts,  he  thinks,  failure  hurts  now  more  than  ever  because  tomura's  goals...  he  listens  to  the  noises  in  the  house  behind  him,  toga's  maniacal  giggles  and  compress's  gentle  laugh.  they  are  not  his  own  anymore,  he  supposes.  perhaps  he  is  not  alone  as  he  thought.

dabi,  is  the  only  one  really  brave  enough  to  approach  him  like  this  -  shigaraki's  mood  a  volatile,  unpredictable  thing.  but  the  damn  zombie  was  more  insane  than  the  rest  of  them  -  and  he  can't  say  he  had  the  energy  to  hiss  and  spit  at  him,  tell  him  to  fuck  off  like  he  usually  would...  especially  not  as  warm  arms  find  their  way  about  his  lean  body,  heated  frame  encompassing  him  in  a  gesture  of  tenderness  unfamiliar.  for  awhile  -  tomura  stands  there,  arms  limp  at  his  side,  before  eventually  they  raise  -  sliding  about  the  elder's  torso  in  a  slow,  slithering  grip.  his  fingertips  grip  the  back  of  his  coat,  pinky  finger  raised,  and  tomura...  he  tucks  his  tired  features  against  dabi's  shoulder,  hidden  away  from  prying  eyes.

the  villain  sighs  at  the  first  stroke  of  fingertips  through  his  messy  locks.

❝ warm. ❞  he  mutters  in  his  gentle  rasp,  almost  snuggling  closer.  his  head  tilts  to  the  side,  cheek  resting  against  his  shoulder  while  his  nose  nuzzles  into  the  side  of  dabi's  neck,  feeling  the  thrum  of  his  pulse  beneath  flesh.  ❝ you  still  gonna  stick  with  me  after  that  shit  show,  huh? ❞  he  says  after  awhile,  two  fingertips  tracing  a  lazy,  lulled  pattern  upon  the  cremation  villain's  spine.   ❝ it's  fucked. ❞   he  grouses,  ❝ it's  all  fucked. ❞   it  translates  to  :  it's  my  fault.  i  did  this.  and  tension  winds  through  him  like  a  disease,  shoulders  going  rigid,  body  poised  with  stress.  so  many  things  to  figure  out  now.  so  many  problems.  and  fuck,  he  hurt  from  the  bleeding  earlier.

[astrxthesiai]

MIYUKI MASTERLIST 2

Fandomless Verse – Fallen Goddess of the Moon and the Ocean (No-ship)

In the fandomless verse, Miyuki is her world’s goddess of the moon and the seas.  Her sister is her world’s goddess of stars, fire and volcanoes.  They gave up their domains to their brother to chase a corrupted god of the sun.  Crimson thinks it is a futile effort, but Miyuki was in love with this corrupted god of the sun.  To gain the ability to travel to other worlds, Crimson and Miyuki sacrificed the ability to slide into their true forms for lengthy periods to a demon known as Davy Jones.  Their mission is simple, to deal with the corrupted god and avoid the god slayers that are hot on their trail.

Other Verses:

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV (Multi-Ship)

One of the Chosen close to Miranda, the Warrior of Light/Darkness.  Known as Sarangerel Tergel, Sarangerel is the navigator of the sky pirate crew now turned adventurers.  She was conscripted into the Garlean Empire’s military.  They escaped with Miranda and her group traveled with her all over the globe.  Sarangerel is the group’s navigator.

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter (???) reserved for skarletchains

Part of Mira’s group, Miyuki is a hunter.  Currently, her nen ability is unknown.  More on this verse later.  She is a bubbly girl with a deep sadness underneath.

Fandom: Banana Fish (Multi-ship) reserved for whiskeysmulti

Was part of Mira’s gang briefly, Miyuki and her sister were originally part of a mercenary group growing up.  They lived in undesirable conditions until they came to America.  Miyuki comes from a yakuza family indebted to the mercenary group.  Her sister is one of the “failed” prototypes of evolved humans (see the manga, Yasha).  Miyuki is a skilled fighter and sniper.  She joined Ash’s gang when she lost to him.

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 (Multi-ship?)

Thought to be dead by my Tav, Miyuki was thought to have been killed by the mind flayers.  However, Miyuki and the others did survive.  She finds Mira trying to open up to her new party absolutely hilarious.  However, keeps her distance, as Mira and her current party’s status as future mind flayers.  Miyuki is bubbly, but she enjoys a good hunt.  You’ll have to bribe her on any types on how to put up with Mira.

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn (Multi-Ship)

A high ranking officer in Mira’s group, Miyuki is a talented practitioner in Rain flames.  She is also a swordswoman and a dual wielder.  Miyuki does her best to keep the secret that she can use Sky flames as the heir of the Mochizuki clan.  It is hard to say if they wish to make an acquaintance of the Vongola or not.  Miyuki also holds a shark as a box weapon, a tiger shark.

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail (Multi-Ship)

Not much is known about Miyuki other than the fact she is likely part of the Hunt path in combat.  She is also an ice user.  She may be bubbly, but at the end of the day, she is the type that will hunt someone down to the ends of the universe.  They follow Mira and are curious about the universe.  She works with Feiyu and studies navigation.  She is a dual wielder and uses swords.  She is talented at picking up different languages.

Fandom: Obey Me! (Multi-Ship)

My protagonist oc for Obey Me!  Miyuki is from the human realm and has a group of friends she’ll miss in the human realm.  She is intended to bridge the gap between humans and nonhuman species.  However, she has a tendency to attract trouble.  She keeps a ton of secrets, and that is that her human realm friends are not all that appear to be.  Her sister’s friend, Mira, becomes worried when Miyuki states she becomes a student at Royal Academy of Devildom or R.A.D. student.  Mira warns her to remember her hosts are demons and they are certainly not people to be trifled with.

⇢✶ Birthday: May 4 ⇢✶ Sexual Preference: Bisexual ⇢✶ Romantic Preference: Panromantic ⇢✶ Affiliates: ⇢✶ Ship Status: Multi-Ship

⇢✶ Biography ⇢✶ ‘Verses ⇢✶ Tags ⇢✶ Bonds ⇢✶ Playlist/Soundtrack ⇢��� Aesthetics ⇢✶ Headcanons ⇢✶ Questionnaires

[genshinnash]

YUNLI BUILD

Hi everyone, welcome to my guide about Honkai: Star Rail's newest character to their roster, Yunli!! In this post, I will be covering her best Light Cones, Relics, Team Compositions and Traces Priority.

Yunli is a 5 Star Physical Character following the Path of Destruction who excels in counter attacking her enemies attacks to deal massive damage

BEST LIGHT CONES:

Dance At Sunset, On the Fall of An Aeon, The Unreachable Side, Something Irreplaceable, Under the Blue Sky , Nowhere to Run

BEST RELICS:

4 Piece The Wind-Soaring Valorous, 4 Piece Street wide Boxing, 4 Piece The Ash Blazing Grand Duke, 4 Piece Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters

BEST ORNAMENTS:

Inert Salsotto, Duran, Dynasty of Running Wolves

BEST TEAMS:

Yunli, Robin, Tingyun, Huo Huo. Yunli, Topaz, Robin, Huo Huo.

TRACES ORDER:

Ultimate, Talent, Skill, Basic Attack

That is all for today's Yunli guide. Hopefully Trailblazer can have a good understanding of how she plays in combat and giving her a good build. That is and I'll see you soon. Trail blaze you later!!

[rookerystories]

Star Trails and Ash Rails: Mistakes Part 2

The Parishi fighters started shooting before Rei had a chance to do anything else, pulse rounds lighting up the morning sky around her. She dropped her Falken and maneuvered to give Dex a chance to clear the fire before starting the dance of a dogfight.

“Preacher, get that son of a bitch off my tale, I’ve got a line on this bomber,” she heard Ozzy’s voice over the comm.

Seconds later, Preacher’s gravel tones sounded. “You’re clear.”

“Watch you’re 8 Dodger, one’s coming around.”

Rei hit the flight stick, shunting the Falken left just as a Parishi fighter came into range. Rounds flared over her right wing harmlessly.

The battle played out like a choreographed number over the buildings of Tir Nybad. Round and round the Falkens and Parishi fighters rolled, like waves on the sea. Nearby, Preacher and Ozzy danced to a similar rhythm, their’s orchestrated by the moves of bombers. Adrenaline had slowed time for them all, so when Stormfront broke in Rei was shocked to find only a minute or two had passed.

“Scope’s clear of bombers, but I’ve got more fighters at vector 198. Just got word the city’s evacuating, so you’re gonna have to hold on until then.”

“Roger Stormfront,” Rei answered, feeling sweat beading on her skin. Between them, she and Dex had downed 3 of the Parishi fighters, but only just. Ozzy and Preacher were contending with the escorts, but with more reinforcements coming in, they were in trouble.

“Pelican, where are my ready five?” Rei barked into the comm.

“They’re in launch sequence now, 90 seconds out.”

“Best make it 30 or they’re gonna fly into a shitstorm.” Rei cut her mic and focused on flying.

A fighter had gotten between her and Dex and was doing its damnedest to make her life miserable. She felt the Falken compensate as her pulse cannons flared. A few hits landed, forcing the fighter to break off to avoid taking more rounds, but it was far from out of the fight.

“I’ve cleared your tail Dex, but he’ll be back.”

“Appreciate it,” Dex growled then almost whooped; “And down she goes, splash one for me.”

The battle had moved into the city proper and Rei kept an eye on where the fighters were going down. She hoped to hell they hit areas that had been cleared, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Trugood squadron hit the wall of Parishi fighters like a cannonball, giving Rei, Dex, Ozzy, and Preacher a few much needed seconds to breathe. And then Stormfront broke in again.

“Farrish, Trugood. Good news/bad news. Good news is that the stadium is 40% clear and the citizens have moved to bomb shelters. Bad news, we’ve got another dozen bogeys engaging. Looks like the Parishi dedicated half their regional air force to this assault.”

Rei gritted her teeth and checked her Falken. It was still in good shape, despite taking a few rounds in the fighting.

“Trugood, move to intercept. We’ll clean up here.”

“Acknowledged Farrish 7, breaking off.” Rei watched as her reinforcements moved to engage the newcomers.

Time stood still as the dogfights continued. Then, with one word, the illusion was shattered.

“Fuck,” she heard pain in Ozzy’s voice.

[limonecat005]

Caelus x You (honkai star rail) spice warning

Your hair cascades like water under the silverlight; your back arched, his hands scaling down your skin bathing in stardust. Sinful words sounding so sweet as his lips caress in every dip, every curve- burning the feeling of you in his memory.

Face in hand, you were sitting on the bed with satin white sheets pooling on your legs. You silently cursed the man sleeping soundly beside you, who turned your entire life upside down overnight. Your eyes trailed the latter's broad back, covered in love bites and scratch marks, and you couldn't help but swallow thickly at the sight.

His arms kept you steady against the wall and your arms find purchase on his back. As he began devouring you, you couldn't help but tighten your grip, afraid you would melt into a puddle on the floor. Pudding meshed mind, you were a goner. Nothing registered in your mind except his touches or the way he manhandled you around since your body was too numb to be controlled by yourself.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, your fingers treading through your hair, trying to figure about what to do about this situation. But, your traitorous brain kept on reminding of his uniquely golden eyes which looked at you with desire and his soft ash grey hair that you tugged at by the roots which had him spill soft groans of his own.

"Caelus-!" You gasped as he delved deeper, his hand holding yours to keep you grounded.

You wanted to bang your head on the wall until you bled. Your thoughts were going crazy over him and not once were you able to plan how to deal with the awkwardness later. For once, you hated to be human and having hormones that screwed up with your system.

You groaned under your breath and decided to have a cup of coffee to sober up despite your legs trembling with every movement. And maybe also take a shower. But, before you could get up, a hand on your wrist prevented you from moving.

"Where are you going?" You turned around and watched Caelus rise up slightly from his position, revealing his extremely toned body that was hidden under the sheets.

His bed hair was shaggy in a way that had your heart flip in all directions and his deep timbre morning voice had you in his grasp.

"Good morning," you greeted, albeit hesitantly, your brain short circuiting.

The latter pulled you closer to him and wordlessly wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you in his scent and warmth. His eyes were fluttering shut, but his hands had different ideas as they ran south from your nape.

"Caelus-!" You whisper, flustered as shocks of pleasure traveled through your spine.

"Hm?" He asked, not opening his eyes and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"What is it?" You couldn't answer, letting out a soft moan when his rough hands explored your inner thighs.

You hear him sigh softly. "How is that you manage to drive me crazy everyday?" You felt a kiss and a sharp tug on your shoulder. "Up for another round...?"

[voids-colourful-creations]

To the Ties Made of Crimson- A SatoGou Fanfic

[Read on Ao3!]

Rated G - No Warnings Pokemon Journeys Ash/Goh 7645 Words

Summary: There's a red string, tiny, nearly transparent, tied to Gou's finger that trails off into the night. He tells himself he's as ambivalent towards it as his family seems to be. A little string doesn't matter to him. At least, not in comparison to the other dreams he's racing towards. There's a red string, small, shining in the light, tied to Satoshi's finger that he winds around his wrist. He wonders about it, daydreams about it. And yet, with every other goal he's chasing, a little string falls by the wayside. Until it doesn't.

Notes: I've always loved to think of red string au's as the world telling you about the choices you're going to make. Not determining your future for you, but sharing the future you made with your past self. Love and time are both too free and fluid to be restrained in a linear way. Enjoy the gay pokeani boys.

-

Maybe it would’ve been a bigger thing if his parents had been around more. Somehow, through research and school and stargazing, Goh had neglected to give too much thought to his string, beyond the day to day of it. Quickly after he became conscious of it, it just as easily was slipped into the back of his mine. Or rather filed, categorized.

It was like another body part to him. Goh had dark hair that curled up on the ends, and weak legs that could run fast but not for very long, and a string tied to the end of his finger that looped and coiled about.

It was another part of growing up, wasn’t it?

Some families made a big deal of milestones like this, charting heights, filming first steps, celebrating seeing your string for the first time. But like all those other things, for Goh, that was simply a part of getting older.

In all honesty, Goh was almost shy about it. It wasn’t that he was purposefully trying to hide it, but having hardly ever talked about it with his family he tended to shy away from the subject.

He vaguely remembers his classmates teasing him about it once, a good few years ago. It was that little stretch of time between seeing Mew and quitting school. Where he went only because he felt he had to, not learning anything at all.

“The only thing waiting at the end of Goh’s string is Mew!”

“Mew’s the only soulmate he would accept anyway.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s not like someone like Goh has a string!”

It didn’t hurt like it was meant to, and Goh ignored their teasing until they grew tired of it.

Secretly, quietly, with only the stars as his judges, Goh wondered if they were right.

Maybe he truly wasn’t meant for another human to love, in any sense of the word. He was just fine on his own.

He was eight when he decided, on a winter’s night, on a rooftop, alone. Yes, he didn’t need a soulmate- platonic, romantic, it didn’t matter. Goh would be fine on his own, just him and his search for Mew. That would be enough.

He leaned against the railing of the building, resting his chin on the weathered stone. It’s cold, he shivered slightly.

Goh breathed out heavily just to watch the puff of breath flume out in front of him. It rose up before it dissipated, swirled about for a seconds blink and then it was gone. Goh stared up where his breath once was, but the stars were all that stared back at him, blinking, watching. Goh blinked back.

Slow, one, two, three, blinks in a row. He heard once that some pokemon like it when you blink real slow at them like that. That it told them without words, “I love you”.

Bliiiink. Bliiiiink. Bliiiiiiiiink. To the stars above.

He held his hand up above him. It was still hard to see, it didn’t come as naturally to him as it should’ve.

When he focused, breathed deep and really looked, he could see it. The thread that blew about gently, the tiny knot that kept it secured to his finger. It was a sparkling, shimmering red. Like the streaks in his hair, almost, but ever so slightly off.

Goh rubbed his thumb across his palm, curling all his fingers in. The string caught slightly with the motion. Goh wondered if all the way out there, past the horizon, under the starlight, if the person on the other end could feel the twinge.

‘I’m sorry,’ He wanted to say to the person waiting on the other end. ‘I will not wait for you.’

For a moment, he wondered.

‘What sort of person would be tied to someone like me?’

For another, he wondered.

‘That is, if there’s anyone at all.’

A chill winter's wind whipped around Goh, tossing his hair back and forth.

Concentrating on the string again, Goh pulled at it with his finger. Tugging ever so slightly more, it was gently giving until he’d got it wrapped around his wrist a few times, resting gently on his palm.

He gave the thread a soft pull, holding it taut for a few seconds before releasing it again. He pulled again. Released again. Pulled. Released.

‘I’m sorry,’ He thought, ‘ you were matched with someone like me.’

It became something of a habit, an idle repetition his fingers get up to on their own. A soft tug for a moment, then release. One. Two. Three. I love you. I’m sorry.

That’s what it meant to Goh at least, that’s what it was meant to mean.

What the person on the other end took it as, he wasn’t sure.

‘If anyone is there at all,’ his mind filled again, on its own.

He tended to keep his string wrapped up like that. Looped around his wrist, running against his palm. It was in his hand, in his grasp.

Every now and then he felt a jolt or two coming from the other end. Somewhat frequently to be honest, but there never seemed to be any pattern to it.

‘Is this your message?’ Goh asked himself, asked the string. ‘ Do you wonder about me the same way I wonder about you?’

The string didn’t answer. It never had before.

Yet Goh found himself curling around the thread as he slept, dreaming, waiting.

-

Ash probably should’ve paid a bit more attention in class, or to his neighbours, or even just to Gary’s bragging. It just seemed boring at the time, so the thought never really stuck. There were Pokemon to meet! New places to see.

So honestly, Ash didn’t really know what the strings were until he caught note of his one day. A sliver of a sparkle, red caught in the breeze with his hands out in front of him.

It was like it was there, then gone again when he blinked.

For a moment, Ash wondered if his eyes were malfunctioning. He stared long and hard at his hand, the left one. There, just there if he paid enough attention, was the thin red string adorning his little finger.

It curled around and overlapped itself, one two three ringlets between his knuckles. A tight, even knot held it in place.

Ash curled his finger in, watching intently. The string followed, tightening slightly.

And for some reason, a grin spread across Ash's face, and a laugh spilled out from his lips.

Regardless of the why and how, even if Ash didn’t understand it himself, there was something about watching the little string float out from his finger that sparked a bit of joy in him.

He didn’t manage to tell his mother before she figured it out on her own. In his defence he really had been meaning to tell her, he just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. In hers, she had known it was coming soon. She’d been watching.

They were on a walk together, night settling over Pallet Town once more. The streetlights stretched their shadows side by side. Ash, eight years old, was nearly the same height as his mother by the shadows illusion, providing he walked on tiptoe.

Step by step they made their way, and Ash raised his arms up up up to the sky, watching how his string caught the streetlight, its dazzling crimson hue against the rest of the inky black.

“It’s a very pretty string, isn’t it?” Delia remarked idly.

Ash’s attention snapped towards her.

“You can see it too?”

Delia looked straight ahead, at the road winding down in front of her.

“Mmhm.” She hummed in reply.

Ash stood stock still, frozen in place from the shock.

Delia turned slightly, still walking.

“Ash?”

“Mamaaaaa!” He whined, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Delia sighed, but she was smiling. It’s soft, a fragile expression she feared wouldn’t last.

“Why didn’t you tell me ?”

Ash grimaced as he realized he wouldn't be winning this argument.

“I’m your mother! I’d hope you’d tell me when important things happen, for your safety at the least.”

Ash jogged the few steps forward to catch up with his mother, slowing as he matched her stride. He watched his own feet kick up dust instead of meeting her eye.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I did mean to tell you…”

She couldn’t hold it against him, not really, and she knew it.

“But…” Ash continued, and Delia steeled herself. “What is this, even? You said it was important?”

Taking a deep breath, Delia reached out, placing a hand on her son's shoulder.

“In some ways it can be very, very important, and in others, it’s not. That depends on you.”

“But what is it?!” Ash pressed, impatient. His steps grew more forceful, his anticipation growing.

“It’s your string, Ash.”

“I know it’s a string, Mama.”

“Not just a string. Your string.”

Ash tilted his head to the side, looking over at his mother. He watches her expression, staying ever neutral as she explained.

“A string appears around your finger sometime before you turn ten, though the ages tend to vary between six and nine-ish, with outliers either direction. They wind around your littlest finger and are invisible most of the time. People can see their own strings however, as well as the strings of people they’re particularly close to, like family members or very close friends. The stronger the red colour, the stronger the connection.”

“Between who? Family members?”

Delia shook her head, and hoped her voice wouldn't do the same.

“Between string partners. Somewhere out there, the other end of the string on your finger has travelled all the way to wrap around someone else’s finger.”

Ash was quiet for a moment, contemplating. His eyes snapped open.

“Who?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know who’s on the other end of your string. Not yet anyway.”

“Not yet?”

Delia pulled her son in just the slightest bit closer as they walked.

“The person on the other end… they’re what people call a soulmate. A stringmate, sometimes. It’s a way of telling you that there’s someone out there who you’re gonna love an awful lot, and they’re gonna do the same.”

Ash scrunched his face up.

“Like… a date? Aiko from school mentioned something ‘bout that once… I think…?”

Delia hummed lightly.

“Mm. It can be, if you want and your string mate wants. It’s up to you to decide what it means.”

“Sounds… complicated.”

Ash stuck out his tongue and scowled.

“Aw-ahaha… Ash, listen alright.”

Ash’s expression turned to confusion, but he looked his mother in the eye as she spoke.

“Having a string mate can be a wonderful thing. It’s a bit exciting to know that somewhere out there is another person who’s gonna care about you sooooo much, that you have a little string to remind you. Don’t let it be a sad thing, okay? Having more people to care about is always a good thing, and I know you care about people, pokemon, and things an awful lot.”

Ash nodded, listening as she talked.

“But who put the string there? Why do they wanna tell me?”

Delia shrugged her shoulders.

“We don’t know. Some people think it’s a pokemon we don’t know about yet. Other people think it’s our world itself! Some people say Arceus creates them. But it doesn’t matter so much as to why they’re there as much as knowing that they are there, and you get to figure out what you do with that.”

Ash groaned a bit.

“It’s so complicated!”

“It is, it is, but it’s exciting too, isn’t it?”

And Ash let a smile poke through, a small one.

“Yeah… it is. I hope my string mate is super super nice! Do you think they’re gonna like Pokemon like me? Do they live in Pallet? Or maybe super super far away?! How would I meet them then? When can I meet ‘em? I wanna see ‘em super super soon!”

Delia gave her son’s shoulder a slight squeeze.

“I’m sure your soulmate will be a wonderful person. As for where, that’s another mystery. Some people wind up their strings to try and pull their string mate closer, others try to find the person on the other end by following it, but I don’t think either of those work very well. Strings get caught sometimes.”

“Caught?”

“On places that’ll be important to you, on memories you haven’t had yet. Sometimes they even loop around other people if they’re important to you meeting, or other Pokemon!”

Ash lit up.

“It’s like a big red web!”

“Exactly.”

Ash picked up his steps again, walking forward with just a bit more excitement. The tiny porch light on their house, glowing warm and friendly, welcomed them home with its infrequent flickers.

“One last question…” Ash said, toying with his own string again.

“Shoot.”

“If p-particularly close family members- and friends- are able to see each other’s strings… Why can’t I see yours? Am… I not close enough?”

Delia had prepared herself for this question, and yet still found herself somewhat unprepared to answer.

“No, no we’re very very close, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that. You can’t see my string because I don’t have one.”

“Oh.” Ash kept walking. “Is that sad?”

He asked genuinely, purely out of curiosity. And with years and years of fielding the same question, Delia could honestly say this was the only time the person asking hadn’t treated the revelation like some kind of tragedy.

“Nope. I’m very happy as I am, with you and my friends and my work, there are lots of people I care about and who care about me! I don’t need a string to help me find them or to remind me.”

“And… I do?”

“Maybe. Some people never meet their stringmate, or at least, they never know who their stringmate is. Stringmates are just important people after all, there’s not strict rules. All that we can say for sure is that there’s a little red string on your finger and on the other end is someone else who’s gonna care about you very, very much, and the same will go for you. The universe wants you to know that for one reason or another, and now it’s a part of your journey, however you’d like to make it a part of that.”

As Delia finished her sentence, she rounded the corner that turns onto the tiny rock path leading up to her house. Ash continued forward as Delia turned to check the mailbox once before heading inside. Ash waited by the door for her, hesitating just slightly.

“I hope I get to meet them someday. Someone I care about… and who cares about me… if they’re important enough that something wants to tell me that…”

He trailed off for a moment, and as Delia made her way up the steps, she wondered if he'd finished the sentence there.

“If something wants to tell me that… then I gotta meet 'em someday. I gotta tell ‘em, so they know they’re cared about. I promise… I will tell them.”

And Ash opened up the door and headed inside.

Letting a contented smile wash over her face, Delia followed suit.

Really, strongly, she hoped that Ash would meet his soulmate someday.

At the least, because she’d like to think they’d be better for knowing him.

-

It honestly had been a pretty good day for the most part. He almost wished there was a more solid reason, but really Goh had just been slipping into unease without fair reason.

It just lined up that way. The anxiety and uncertainty that was building in him, the bubbling uncomfortable feeling he couldn’t let spill to anyone in his tiny little apartment.

Theoretically, metaphorically speaking.

His parents were staying at work for the night, finishing up a project deadline, and his grandmother had been on a trip to visit her old friends for the past 4 days.

So no one would know if he slipped away, stayed somewhere else for the night.

The swift night breeze seeped through Goh’s sweater and seeped into his skin, chilling him enough to almost make him return to his apartment to grab a coat. But tenacity is a flaw as much as a virtue, and he pushed onward with gritted teeth.

The heavy bag slung across his back carried everything he really needed for the night. Sleeping bag, pop up tent, research notes and gadgets.

He told himself this was for research purposes alone. Pure coincidence that his stargazing spot was the optimal conditions for research.

He wasn’t a great liar, even to himself, but if he kept repeating it, maybe he’d start to believe it.

It was just suffocating there, he let himself think as he heaved his way up the old stairs, too focused on carrying the weight to filter his own stream of consciousness.

The empty rooms, the still, stale air. It bordered on uncanny the longer he stayed there. The lights illuminated the nothingness that permeated the space, pushing Goh out.

So he ran away, again, like always. Like a coward.

Goh was used to setting up this tent by now. It was like a friend to him, each motion familiar.

With the tent secure, or secure as can be on a rooftop instead of the intended ground, Goh lets himself lean back against the hard concrete railing, looking up towards the stars as always.

Without thinking about it, he subconsciously raised his right hand up, watching the trailing red thread dance about in the wind.

‘I’m sorry.’ He thought, a frequent occurrence.

The thread didn’t answer. It never did.

Goh grit his teeth, tearing his eyes away from the skies.

Usually stargazing helped him feel better, and today it only succeeded in making him feel worse.

Whatever.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t need to worry about his parents, his soulmate, none of it was important.

Research was important. Mew was important. If his readings were correct, the Lugia appearing over town tomorrow afternoon was important.

Ducking back inside the tent, Goh repeated the same to himself over and over, until exhaustion took over and he slipped into listless sleep.

-

He ran down the hill like his life depended on it, backpack thunking against him, heart pounding in his ears.

(He ran up the road, fuelled by adrenaline and excitement, partner clinging onto his shoulder, heart pounding in his ears.)

He jumped, leaping towards a creature he’d only seen on a flickering computer screen.

(He jumped, leaping towards a monster, a friend, something to be challenged.)

And he was slipping, falling-

(And he was climbing, reaching)

And then their eyes met.

-

In someways, looking back, Goh felt stupid for not realizing it. The way his heart pounded, the thrilling exciting feeling of it all. Didn’t it just make sense as a meeting of two soulmates?

And yes, that's what it is, that’s what it was, and looking back Goh blushed and felt his string wrap just the tiniest bit tighter around his finger. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swore he could feel it pulling at him when he thought about it.

But then…

The spray of the ocean clung to his skin, blood pumping hot through his veins, eyes drawn to the person beside him.

Because what kind of person would do something like this? Jump onto Lugia, ride it over the bay. It’s madness, truly speaking.

Goh’s exact brand of insanity.

So his thoughts were a bit rushed and jumbled as he clung onto the Pokemon. He managed to remember to grab research data, and he managed to stay hanging on.

What kind of person would do something like this?

‘Someone like me’, his mind supplied.

And with all his attention poured onto his new companion, then following the exhausting travel home, Goh didn’t even think about his string once.

-

Ash wanted to say he spoke up because he had a feeling, or because he was drawn to Goh, or anything romantic like that.

Instead, it was late at night. The moonlight peered in through the slats in the blinds and Ash watched it wash up against the walls from his bed. He couldn’t sleep.

He hated not being able to sleep, it was such an awkward uncomfortable feeling, the urge to squirm and twist filling his mind.

For the sake of Pikachu, curled up against his side, he restrained himself.

Ash watched its ears twitch slightly as it slept, watched its back rise and fall in a steady even rhythm.

For a while, that was enough. The even tempo provided by Pikachu was soothing, sweet. Ash could feel his eyelids growing heavier with each little twitch of Pikachu’s ears.

But that wasn’t the problem.

It was the buzzing, uncomfortable feeling that zigzagged back and forth in his chest. Like if a dozen Joltik had all crawled their way in there. Ash grimaced at the mental image.

That buzzing feeling that wouldn’t cease, wouldn’t let him sleep no matter how tired he was, it was beginning to drive Ash insane.

Or at least, that was the excuse he wanted to come up with, because he couldn't think of a good reason for why he’d whispered out.

Lightly, quietly enough there was no risk of anyone hearing him, unless they’d been straining their ears for it, Ash spoke.

“Goh.”

It wasn’t a question, it was nothing but a name, let loose into the night cautiously.

There was silence for a moment, near silence at least.

Ash strained his ears.

Pikachu’s breathing, Sobble snoring, the air conditioner running, and there -

“ Ash .”

So very, very quiet, as light as a feather, was Goh’s voice.

The buzzing feeling subsided only lightly.

“Are you alright?”

Ash asked, without even thinking about it.

Near silence again. The buzzing returned, growing dizzier and more frantic.

Ash clenched his fists, screwing his eyes shut. Had he just imagined Goh’s voice, was he really that sleep deprived?

“Why?” Came Goh’s reply, still as hushed as could be.

“Today… it was….” Ash began.

Terrifying, Worrying, Scary.

HIs mind filled in. But Ash couldn’t say any of these things.

“Intense.” He settled on.

“With Suicune? And the hunters?”

“Mm.”

Ash could hear his blood rushing better than he could hear Goh. It thumped in his ears, pounding and pounding. He wondered if he was getting a headache. Maybe that's why he couldn’t sleep.

“Were you scared?” Goh answered after a moment’s hesitation.

Ash’s breath caught in his throat.

He wanted to say no. Either No, because he always believed Goh would win in the end, or No because he’d faced scarier things, or just No because he didn’t want Goh to worry but instead he said nothing at all.

Goh spoke again, not waiting for Ash’s reply.

“‘Cause… I was just a little. Don’t tell Chloe.”

“You were scared?” Ash asked. He didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, he was just… surprised.

“I-I… augh, yes, yes I was, okay, are you gonna laugh because I’d prefer you just get it over with.”

“No!” Ash lowered his voice, careful, “No, I just… You seemed so prepared and ready.”

“I just… I thought they were gonna really hurt Suicune. And I wouldn’t be able to stop it. It felt like… like if I couldn’t stop them from hurting Suicune, then… what was even the point of being a trainer, you know?”

And Ash’s heart ached badly because he did . He knew exactly what Goh meant.

He’d just hoped that Goh wouldn’t have to feel it.

“Yeah.” Ash replied, and this time his voice was the one as light as air.

He opened his palm just to clench it again.

“Suicune deserved better than that, you know? I wonder if… if maybe it’s been taken advantage of before? It hid up really high in this big old tree, and it didn’t want me anywhere near it. A-and I can’t blame it, I don’t, I- I don’t know if it… hated me for catching it? I just wanted to help it, but I kept feeling like I screwed up.”

Goh trailed off.

“And?”

Ash prompted lightly.

“And when we were in the tree, I just… I remember sitting with it, facing away ‘cause I remembered that Suicune get shy about observation, and I just… I had this feeling like we understood each other. Like… right then, Suicune understood I was trying to take care of it. I’ve never felt anything quite like that before.”

The last few words came out breathy, and Ash could hear the emotion trickling through Goh’s words.

“So yeah… I was scared that… that even after I’d managed to like… connect with it or something, I’d let it down. Then… would it ever trust anyone again?”

“But you didn’t, did you? You saved it, and it knew that, and it stayed with you. Everything worked out.”

Ash was trying to reassure Goh, but he didn’t even feel like he was convincing himself.

“Yeah.” Goh replied, “It did. I wish I didn’t still feel worried about it.”

Ash could’ve kicked himself. Of course Goh felt worried, of course and here he was just making things worse this was so frustrating and the buzzing just kept getting worse .

“I-“ Ash tried, but the words fizzled out.

“I-!” He tried again.

Gritting his teeth, Ash pulled his arm in closer to his chest. He could feel the string on his finger pulling at him, growing tighter as he curled in on himself.

“I was scared too.” He managed, finally, to say. Still quiet into the darkness, still hushed and cautious.

“You were?” Came Goh’s reply, hesitant.

“For Suicune, of course… that even if we tried our best, those hunters might still get away with it. I’m glad they didn’t.”

Ash bit his lip. That wasn’t all of it, he knew it wasn’t, but it felt so hard to say what should’ve been simple.

“Yeah…”

The buzzing, the buzzing, the awful trapped feeling laying under his own skin, it was becoming unbearable. Why couldn’t he just say what he wanted to?

“A-and.” Ash started, unable to go any further.

“And?” Goh prompted, gently.

“And… you.”

There was a quick noise, a quiet noise, a sharp intake of breath followed by silence.

Silence, then a shy, “me?” Wavering down from the top bunk.

“I- I was trying to keep calm, and reassure Lucario and everything but… I guess it could just feel my own worry. When I heard you shouting I couldn’t see you at all. I was so worried that… maybe they’d hurt you.”

“Ash…”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I promise! I know you’re strong, I don’t ever want you to think I don’t believe in you.”

Ah. So that was it. Funny how talking to Goh made all the threads in his mind seem to untangle just right.

“Ash I-! I didn’t think that, don’t worry. I don’t… think that. I’m just- I-… I’m… happy? I think? That… that you were worried. For me.”

“Of course I worry about you!”

“I worry about you too!”

And part of that made Ash’s skin crawl, because he didn’t want anyone worrying on his behalf, not even his mother. And another part of him, tiny and hidden and tucked away, breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“I- I’m not happy that you're worried ,” Goh explained, stumbling over his words, “Or I guess I kind of am? But… I guess I’m happy that you ‘care enough to be concerned’, or whatever however that saying went.”

“Saying?”

“Nothing, it’s silly! Just… something in one of Chloe’s fairy tale books that... stuck with me, I suppose.”

“Mm…. Fairytale, huh… tell me about it?”

“Of course!”

And maybe it was Goh’s gentle words, they way they came even and breathy. Maybe it was the tugging at his hand. The thread around it getting pulled gently, then released, long and slow and even. One. Two. Three. A moment’s rest. One… two… three.

It almost seemed like the motion and Goh’s voice were in tandem with each other.

The buzzing was subsiding. Washed away by warm golden light Ash could feel himself sinking into as he fell asleep.

As he drifted off, Ash’s finger caught on the edge of the string just slightly, and he pulled it in closer to himself. Hopefully the person on the other end could feel it, could feel that warmth that Ash was basking in.

Maybe it was just sleep taking hold, but like a knot had been untied, Ash could’ve sworn the string was coming easier now, giving just that slightest bit more.

-

Most people, as close as the two of them were, probably would’ve asked each other by now. If for nothing else than pure curiosity.

Goh had asked Chloe about her string when they were both nine, just managing to see the sparkling sliver of hers when she held it up to the light.

“Are you gonna follow it?”

He’d asked, idly reaching out to try and touch the thing.

“I… don’t know.”

There was something so solitary in her voice, far and echoing down a tunnel of her thoughts, that Goh never asked about her string again.

She, of course, knew better than to mention his string. She’d heard the teasing, she knew what they thought. Sometimes she wondered if Goh ever thought the same.

In all honesty, Goh suspected that’s why he’d never managed to ask Ash about his string, if he even had one. It’s not that he wasn’t curious about it, he was so curious it made his brain itch. Rather if he did ask, common courtesy would have him show his string in return, and Goh would rather not talk about that. He took some consolation in the fact that Ash never asked either. Maybe he was just as shy. It felt weird to imagine Ash being shy like that… but it was kind of fun to imagine him all flustered too, Goh thought.

So Goh didn’t ask about it. Tried not to think about it.

‘It’s not my business.’ He thought each time he caught himself straining his eyes at Ash’s finger tips. ‘If Ash wants to tell me about his string, he will.’

And for the most part, that worked well.

It was by pure, honest accident Goh ended up seeing Ash’s string that day. It caught in the bright, Alolan sunlight, light bouncing off the trophy they lifted up into the air together.

And it was a strange feeling, watching it twist about, looping around Ash until Goh couldn’t tell which direction the other end really led.

Strange, in that something about knowing someone else out there cared very much for Ash made Goh’s heart warm. Good, he thought. Ash should be cared for so very, very much. But even thinking those words felt somewhat strained, pulled back as if tied up, prevented from coming to fruition fully.

And yet…

Even with that feeling nagging at him, over all of that was a silly sort of contentment.

Seeing Ash’s string meant they were close, at least in the universe’s eyes.

Goh grinned over at Ash, who did the same in return.

He didn’t need the universe to tell him they were close. He already knew that perfectly well.

But…

It was kind of nice.

-

He wasn’t even planning it, it all just happened at once. Goh wasn’t thinking much, running after Ash.

Of course, he was thinking, a lot.

Messy, shapeless thoughts of excitement and joy and satisfaction were whirling about in his head.

He just wasn’t thinking things through like normal. There was no plan, no reason behind it. Only Ash’s grinning smile, eyes widening as Goh approached.

He didn’t even have to say a word for Ash to open his arms, and Goh was leaping, throwing himself into Ash.

The impact was enough to knock them both back a bit, Goh grabbing onto Ash hard and feeling Ash’s arms gripping him in much the same way.

Running on the same excitement Ash spurred them both forward, a spin that carried the momentum into whirlwind.

Spinning, around and around, Goh’s eyes shut tight as his smile stretched further.

Until they weren’t anymore.

Until he found his eyes had opened. Looking out to a swirling array of reds, vibrant and dazzling, all around them.

He tumbled out of Ash’s grip, still laughing along with him. It wasn’t until they both jumped up together, feet finally back on the ground, that Ash opened his eyes in turn, widening as he took in the view with a quick gasp.

The excitement was still there, the laughing thrilling joy still running about them. It was simply the sight of the string curling its way through reality, around them both, that settled a feeling of hush over them.

“Whoaaaa….”

Ash breathed out, looking up at the swirling circles of red enveloping the both of them.

“I-is that my string? Or yours?”

And Goh, feeling Ash’s arms around him, feeling Ash’s breathing, in his own grip (it was just that slightest bit heavier with his excitement) feeling the flustered sort of joy that envelops them both, replied in kind.

“Yeah… I think it is.”

-

They didn’t talk about it for another 3 days.

Ash swore he meant to, he promised, it was just… everything all happened at once, and with Gengar and getting back to Kanto and the championships coming up, there was so much to do that he just… didn’t bring it up.

He didn’t forget, he didn’t avoid it on purpose.

It was more that, if Goh wasn’t going to bring it up again, Ash had enough to think about, mind busy and buzzing and clattering.

Or he did, for a bit, and then… things subsided. The chaos of his life always seemed to ebb and flow like that. Everything on top of itself, compounding on top of him, then it all receded.

The calm always came, eventually, whether he recognized it or not.

The moment it clicked for him was three days after they’d both gotten home, adventures sticking around the port again for the time being.

He hadn’t even meant to talk about it that day either, but things always fell into place like that, didn’t they?

With all the locals up for a battle beat for the day, Ash stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed up the hill to the spot where he promised Goh they’d meet.

He could see Goh’s profile in the distance as he made his way up. The setting sun over the ocean cast light against Goh, obscuring his face. A shimmering ring of golden looped around him, and Ash held his hand up to get a clearer look as he drew nearer.

Goh stood looking out over the town, one arm out in front of him, reaching his fingerstips outwards as if trying to scoop the sun out of the bay.

Sarunori lingered off to the side, more preoccupied in playing with Goh’s new Shellder than with Goh himself.

Pressing his finger to his lip and nudging Pikachu to follow along, Ash walked over to Goh, quietly settling in to stand beside him.

The breeze passed over them.

Ash glanced towards Goh’s hand, watching the string flicker back and forth in the wind.

“It really is pretty…” Ash murmured.

Goh startled slightly, though he tried not to show it.

“Yeah. It really is.”

Ash raised his own hand to Goh’s, letting them bump against each other. The section of the string kept wound around Goh’s palm slowly came undone in the breeze, and Ash watched how his end of the string gave in response.

“We… we really are soulmates, Goh?”

Goh swallowed. Ash wasn’t just asking if the strings truly did connect, and he knew it.

“I think we are. I want us to be.”

Goh took a nervous glance over to Ash.

Ash in return, faced the port.

“Awwughh!” Ash yelled, kind of, it was a bit of an odd noise, and Goh really couldn’t conceal his jump this time.

“S-Ash?! Ash is it really that ba-“

“I shoulda known sooner! I promised- I’m so sorry…”

“ Huh ?”

Goh stared Ash down in bewilderment, but Ash returned him with an oddly focused look.

“Mama told me about soulmates and what they mean. How it’s the world or Arceus or whatever telling you this person on the other end cares about you and the other way around.”

There was such conviction in Ash’s words, such honesty in his tone. Goh felt his eyes begin to sting.

“I wanted to meet my soulmate so bad so I could tell 'em I cared about them… even if I just met ‘em I thought it’d be able to feel it, yanno? …and even then I wanted them to know. That I cared about them or would care about them or whatever. It’s important.”

And Goh tried so hard to keep himself together, but he cracked and tumbled, and the tears stinging his eyes grew strong enough to spill over.

“Ash… what are you even saying?” He was crying, the tears streamed down his face in quick succession, but he couldn’t help from smiling either.

“You’ve already shown me you love me more than words could ever say.”

It was Ash’s turn to blink in surprise for a moment, but the grin returned stronger than ever.

“Then I haven’t broken my promise after all!”

Goh wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You never do.”

He took a deep, shaky breath, looking down and away from Ash’s face.

“Ash, I… I’m sorry.”

“Goh?”

“I… I don’t know if I thought I’d ever meet my soulmate. I never really… focused on it too much? And when I did it wasn’t exactly… pleasant. I was kind of stupid, you know? I didn’t really… believe. That there’d be someone out there who’d care for me like fairytales say. And when I met Mew… I guess part of me decided that it would be good enough. That if I got to see it again, I wouldn’t need a soulmate, or friends, or any kind of human connection.”

Ash opened his mouth as if to protest, but quietly closed it, letting Goh continue.

“I’m still going to see Mew. I’m gonna catch every pokemon! I'm gonna catch Mew! But… I like having friends. I love all the Pokemon I’ve caught, I love watching silly movies with Chloe, I love, love adventuring with you. I’m ambitious! I want it all. The me today can’t… even imagine that the younger me wanted to abandon his soulmate. I’m sorry.”

Ash was still quiet for a moment, holding his hands together. His right hand toyed with the string on the left. After a moment, he looked to Goh, face purely serious.

“Do you still feel that way? That you’d rather not have a soulmate at all?”

And Goh was able to finally meet his eye, look right into deep browns that clashed with glowing blues and know he meant it when he said,

“No.”

Ash’s expression melted back into a smile.

“Then all I really wanna know is… is it okay if I keep caring about you?”

“Only if it’s okay that I keep caring about you!”

“Okay?”

“Okay!”

And this time it was Ash who threw himself into Goh’s awaiting arms.

-

Things didn’t change as much as Goh feared they would, thank goodness for that. If there was anything he was fearing the most about being Ash’s soulmate, is that somehow it’d mean he lost him as a friend.

Things are the same, and yet different. Different in the way that fall is different from spring, while being the same feeling in reverse.

Goh liked it a lot, if he was being honest.

The little smiles Ash would give him, the special ones reserved just for him. He liked the word of it, the feeling of saying that’s him, that's Ash. His fate assigned friend, his special person.

Part of that just came with the knowledge that the inverse was true.

He mattered to Ash. So said the universe. So said Ash, every morning when they woke up and every night when they went to sleep.

“I love ya, Goh! Goodnight!” While tugging the string each evening, “Good morning, Goh!” Every dawn pulling at the thread.

And it wasn’t just the words of it, it was the way Ash would break a piece off of whatever he was eating to share it with Goh, it was the way he’d light up whenever he heard Goh cheering for him, it was the way his grip would tighten when he grabbed Goh’s hand and took him searching through the forest or the streets or wherever .

It was in those days, the adventures in the early morning, the returns home late at night, Goh felt like he finally understood why people cared so much about stringmates.

‘Cause he sure as hell cared about Ash.

To love Ash was to let himself be loved by Ash in return.

But universe or not, string or otherwise, that wasn’t all that loving Ash entailed, and Goh had known it for a while.

He’d just hoped it wouldn’t come so soon.

His stomach dropped as he read the message, it was like plunging into the water on Lugia’s back again. Like Lugia, but in reverse, as fall was to spring.

“Sorry, Ash. I…”

He took a moment to breathe, trying to keep his composure. Everything Ash had done had built up to this, since nearly as long as they’d known each other. Since way, way longer, Goh knew. He couldn’t ruin it now. At least, not more than he already was.

“Can’t watch your battle tomorrow.”

He finished. Hearing the words out loud, even from his own mouth, made them all the much more real, and all the much more worse.

Ash tried to hide it, but Goh still watched the shocked expression rise up onto his face.

“I got an urgent summons from Project Mew.” He explained slowly. He’d known this was a risk, he’d known that with both of them chasing after their dreams there was a chance their paths would separate.

“So I have to leave right now…”

And petty as it was, he’d wanted to see this! The look of blank surprise Ash wore when he won, followed by the elation and excitement as everything hit him? Goh loved seeing that expression on Ash’s face more than any other.

He’d wanted to see that. He had the utmost faith that Ash would win.

And if somehow, somehow , he hadn’t, Goh had wanted to be there, to encourage him. To tell him he knew Ash was capable of amazing things, that he would win someday, it just wasn’t time yet.

And yet, the time had come for them both to split, and Goh hated it.

“Really?”

Ash was smiling, again he was smiling. It didn’t stop Goh from hearing the hint of upset in his voice, the tiniest sliver of sadness buried by the other syllables. It didn’t stop him from feeling the gentle tug at the string, the pulling that compelled him to just run forward, cry, and never leave.

He stood his ground.

“Well then, you make sure you meet that Mew!”

If it was anyone else, the cheerfulness Goh was presented with would make him raise his defences. The idea that they didn’t care he was leaving.

But this was Ash. Goh knew Ash. He knew that voice, he knew that expression.

He knew Ash didn’t want him to leave, and selfishly, he was grateful.

“Yeah! Make sure you win too, Ash!”

He said, giving the string a quick, tight tug.

‘Don’t let me be the thing that drags you down. Not now and not ever.’

He thought, quietly praying the thoughts reached his soulmate.

“Yeah! It’s a promise!”

And it hurt still, Goh still felt that sting, but there was still the fact of the matter. He couldn’t stop destiny from calling him anymore than Ash could. He’d wanted to be there for Ash, he’d wanted Ash to be there with him when he saw Mew.

But maybe this… this could be their fate in the same way their meeting was.

For Ash to reach towards his goal at the same time as Goh jumped towards his… it felt fitting, in a cosmic sense.

He still hated it, but hating the universe was nothing new for Goh, was it?

“The next time we meet…”

And there would be a next time, Goh would cling to that next time. Meeting Mew was his destiny, the one crafted in the palm of his hands. Being with Ash was just as much his destiny, the one tied to his finger and held tight.

“It’ll be with a smile!”

‘I won’t wait for you.’ Goh thought as they bumped their fists together, string tangling with itself for a brief moment. ‘Cause I know you wouldn’t want that. We’re running towards our goals in parallel.’

He gave Ash one last wave before heading off in the opposite direction, back towards the hotel to gather his things.

Head down, fingers toying with the string, Goh tugged surely, slowly.

One.

Two.

Three.

‘We’ll find our way back together, Ash. I know we will. And when you see me again…

I’ll have Mew in one hand and you in the other.

That, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

I promise.’

[End]

[believerindaydreams]

@the-lastcall Happy Fallout Valentine!

I couldn't decide whether to do Cass or Veronica or Sunny, so here's a vignette with all three. Hope you like!

"Have you ever," Cass inquires, "looked at a wall of liquor bottles and said, I wonder which one would be the best for hand to hand combat?"

"...can't say as I have," the scavenger sitting across from her admits. She takes another drink of the homespun Goodsprings brew. "Have you ever tried to rewire an industrial hand with the metal from an old can?"

Sunny's petting Cheyenne, watching and not being too subtle about it. Trudy needs a little muscle sometimes, which she's more than happy to provide; and these two can't seem to decide if they're having a bragging rights contest, a date or a fight.

"Have you ever drunk a cannonball head splitter? Like an atomic cocktail, but with more oomph. Little pieces of radscorpion tail in there to give it some real kick."

"Ever tried sneaking into the old Repconn headquarters?'

"Ever tried sneaking into the Lucky 38?"

"Okay," the scavenger says. "Now you're just fibbing, or my name's not Veronica."

"Nice to meet you, Bob," Cass reciprocates; and slides gently down the booth's smooth prewar vinyl. Sunny manages to pry her out before she can get too entangled.

"Need some help?" Veronica asks. "I'm a couple drinks behind. That pot plant won't need watering this week."

"You cheater," Cass murmurs, her eyelids flickering. "Thought we were having a fair go of things."

"You said, drink until one of us was under the table. Not my fault you like your booze," Veronica says sweetly.

She takes hold of Cass's feet; Sunny puts her arms under the caravaneer's arms and lugs her into the fresh air, kicking the door open along the way.

Outside there's a million and one stars and no Deathclaws, which makes it a good night as far as Sunny's concerned. She lays Cass out on the porch, sits down to coddle the dog that's followed them out. Veronica hoists herself up on the rail, swinging her heels.

"Guess I'll play fair with you, even if you didn't," Cass says eventually. "All the goodwill of Cassidy Caravans. For whatever use a pile of ashes is gonna do yah."

Veronica shrieks happily. "Thank you! My family's gonna love it, you wouldn't believe..."

Sunny lets Cheyenne lead her back inside, where it's warmer. Hanging out with Trudy as much as she does, she's used to hearing snippets and trail ends of conversations, not always knowing how a situation will resolve. Once it hits the porch it's not her business anymore.

Though sometimes, like now for instance, she certainly does wonder.

[peppermint-toads]

could you possibly write something where remus & fem!reader meet at the astronomy tower every night to smoke and talk, but they both have developed feelings for each other & there’s a Lot of sexual tension and possibly some ~action~ ? i love your writing sm !!

an: it’s not as smutty as it could be but the tension is there i promise

cw: remus lupin x female reader, sexual tension, good bit of fluff, smoking

“Our normal spot?” You nodded at him quickly before he was swept away by James and Sirius. Remus snuck away later that evening when the corridors were silent, well past curfew. So did you.

When he ascended the final steps to the top of the astronomy tower, he found you leaning against one of the columns, legs dangling through the wrought iron railing. It was particularly windy that night, but the stars were twinkling brightly, and you insisted on gazing at them properly.

“I told you not to sit like that, s’too dangerous.”

“What do you care?” You bit back.

“I care more than I’d like to,” he mumbled, words too faint for you to make out. He took his usual seat across from you, back leaning against the column parallel to your own. “Have you brought them?” He fished around in his sweatpants pocket and tossed a pack of cigarettes your way.

You smiled at him awkwardly, still unsure of how to behave around him.

You settled a cigarette between your teeth, looking over at Remus to see him smirking. This part always managed to amaze you. His brows furrowed in concentration, wrinkles pinching above his nose. With a slow wave of his hand, the end of the cigarette began to burn, embers twinkling a bright orange.

You took a long inhale, and your eyes fluttered closed with relief. The familiar scent wafted through the air and the smoke warmed your lungs. You sighed.

As Remus took his first drag, he also took in your appearance. Your pajama shirt was tight, skin tight, and entirely too thin. And with the wind chilling your skin, it was no secret. There were a few buttons trailing up to the neckline, and you had intentionally left too many of them undone. He wondered if you’d dressed that way for him, because you certainly didn’t dress for the weather.

Remus was enraptured by your disheveled appearance. His eyes were trained on the swell of your breasts revealed by your top. How you always managed to look so beautiful, he didn’t know. He watched your ash-bitten fingers lifted the fag to your lips.

“You’re cold,” he grumbled, glancing at your shaking hands and pebbled nipples that showed through your thin shirt. You licked your lips and nodded.

With a grunt, he shifted across the stone below him. He had no jacket to offer you, he could only pull you into his side and wrap a warm arm around your shoulders. You remained completely rigid at this first sign of affection. These rendezvous only involved sharing a fag from at least four feet apart until now.

You swallowed hard. You tucked your head into his chest and felt him tense beneath you. He only paused for a moment, though, soon drawing in another puff of smoke. Remus’ hand moved down your arm to find your waist. He planted his hand there one finger at a time, then squeezed lightly.

Not a word was exchanged between you two, only hesitant glances and wavering breaths. You looked up at him with fearful eyes. What is this? Will it change everything? You looked down again.

“Remus I—Mmpf!” His lips were so warm, so plush, and his tongue was so warm. It was all hot breaths and clacking teeth. You moaned into his mouth, you really didn’t mean to, it just slipped out. His eyes were pinched closed in concentration. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, there was so much he needed to say with this kiss.

The arm encircling your waist pulled you onto his lap. His thighs felt firm beneath you, a beacon of warmth and stability. You could feel his hardening length nestled perfectly between your folds through your skimpy pajama bottoms. You had half a mind to grind down on top of him, relieve the aching that had begun between your thighs.

His hands found your hips, slowly dragging you over his growing bulge. “R-remus,” you panted through the kiss. Your face was too hot and the wetness pooling between your thighs was too much, too fast; you wanted him more than anything, but it needed to be different. It couldn’t happen on a whim in the astronomy tower. You pushed yourself away from him, a trail of saliva still connecting your lips to his.

“No, no, no, not like this.” You gasped, trying to regain composure. Your forehead met his, and you could feel his short breaths against your cheek. “You-you’re right. You’re right.” His chest heaved in and out, in and out.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and shoved your forehead into the junction of his neck and shoulder. You could smell his body wash wafting off of his skin, something musky. You inhaled deeply, sighing out before relaxing further into his touch.

“James and Sirius are out of the dorm if you would like to…” He trailed off.

That night, he led you back to his dorm, offering up James’ bed before you bashfully admitted you’d like to sleep with Remus. He held you tightly through the night, your body slotted perfectly within his.

TAGLIST: @ildm4ev @alohastitch0626 @acciodignity @brattypeony @emmaev @greenlyblue @harmqnia @hexrtbrexk-hotel @i-love-scott-mccall @irlpadfoot @j-cat @jrj2 @kiaslily @mad-is-sad @mollysolo @sabrinathesimp @simpforferrets @sorayasorayita @sprucewoodlover @thewinterhunter @v4l3nt1n44 @wh0reforthemarauders @teenwolfbitches28 @lexlupin-black @antxriic @dracosafety @sxrcxsm26 @maitaisonthebeach @lizzyclifford13-blog @riddikulusweasleys @sgchamberlain @zoyasgirl

[fvrxdrm]

5 Times

Pairing: Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warning(s): None

*****

4 times Leon didn't confess his love and 1 time he did.

One

It was the giggles that sailed upon your boat, the laughter, the smiles. You both saw the funny in everything and that was your bond. You could be serious too; you loved deeply of others more than what was generally accepted. So you guessed the humor was how you let out the tension that kind of love brings. In those silly moments you were perfect, and they were the sweetness you needed in rough times. That's what friends do, right? It's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible.

That's what Leon always thought. It was so cordial and unique in a way that he felt like what he valued so much was somehow outlandish and alien. He couldn't distinguish what comes out of him whenever you were with him and every tingle that raises hills on his skin was a puzzle he was unable to solve.

"I'll see you around," you mumbled against his chest.

"Yep." Leon unwrapped his arms around you albeit slowly, reluctant for some reason, and smiled through his pursed lips. "I'll see you around."

He watched as you wended your way from his house and into your home, a teasing tug pulling his lips at the ghost of your own against his cheek.

Two

Under the dim lights and the colorful ornamentations, your raiment sparkled against the gleam, catching the eye of many guests, predominantly Leon. You looked like a princess wearing a headband that imitated a crown, a top and a pair of pants embellished with a winking glint that could be mistaken as diamonds from afar, and heeled leather boots that comically made you look tall. Your hair was in a loose and messy braid with a few strands hanging just beside your face and a light chain that twisted along your H/L H/C locks.

Leon was in awe, no doubt. His focus was glued to your appearance. Even when his friends were making random conversations with him, he found it unbearably hard to keep his icy blues away from you.

"You should just ask her out, you know. You've been staring at her with heart eyes the entire night," Chris spoke as he followed the trail of Leon's gaze towards you.

Leon broke away from his stupor and shook his head at the man's voice, his blood rushing towards his neck and face.

"What? No, no. You're mistaken. I-I don't like her like that."

"You sure? Last time we were drunk you were yelling about how much you love her right into my ear."

"We were drunk, Chris."

"And? What's that saying again? A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?" Chris simpered as Leon's eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Th-that's not true!" He denied.

"Mhm, sure. Anyway, my girlfriend's probably looking for me now," the taller and bulkier man said. "At least ask her to dance."

As Chris' footsteps faded away into the beat of the music, Leon thought about what he had said.

Did he actually like her, or was it just something he was confusing himself with? Either way, you were still a treasured dear to him and whether or not his heart was romantically beating for you, he would still value you the same, although he would probably be a bit clingier if you did end up together.

For now, he'll just ask you for a dance, go with the flow, and see what happens.

Three

The night rode in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under the glow of a full moon. As the colors of the day rested, perhaps dreamt of the morrow, the forest became its monochrome beauty, darkened greens and golds that made an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united.

Fire danced beside you as you and Leon laid against under the constellation of stars and talked the night away, smiling and laughing at every jest that was told.

It felt pleasant to be in his arms and he felt warmth as a wild heart beat in his bars.

"This one," you began, leading his fingers towards a raised and silvery part of your skin, "I got this when I was younger. I got stabbed by a pencil."

"A pencil?"

"Yeah. My friend and I got into a fight and it was buried, like, 3-fucking-inches inside of me. And holy shit, my teacher didn't fucking notice it while I was bleeding profusely. I was leaking hamburger helper!"

Leon busted a gut and pulled you towards him even more as he shook in laughter.

You went on and on about the most absurd things that had happen during your childhood until you lost all energy and eventually fell asleep in Leon's arms.

You looked peaceful, he thought. Your face was so serene as if nothing had really affected you in any way. The world was cruel, but you only sought for the brighter side and stood along it with your back turned to the hell it truly bore. Your lips were parted lightly, and hair just a tad bit messy from all the exaggerated movements you'd done while telling your stories and tossing your head back while laughing. A part of your skin was showing as your top rode up, and he couldn't the blush that crawled up to his face when realized his hand was rested on that patch of skin.

He smiled.

Maybe he did like you, or love you. If his admiration wasn't enough, then his heart reassured him.

Four

"Oh, fuck!"

You swam away from Leon as fast as your arms and legs could fight against the water as he chased you, muscles and quads aiding him. Compared to you, he was more skilled in this type of stuff while you had chicken legs with barely anything of assistance. So it was no surprise when he caught up to you with spider hands and wrapped his arms around your waist. He tickled your stomach, the bareness of it making the stimulation all the more patent and making you guffaw while squirming in his arms.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" You cried in between laughter. You turned around to face him when you felt his hands making a stop against the side of torso and looked at the wonders of his eyes steadily and intensely.

You didn't notice it, but Leon's breath hitched at the proximity of your faces, the hot air that flew out of your nose hitting the droplets on his face. You were in a daze. Both of you. It felt so intimate and bona fide that for a second that was your only reality.

Your fingers trailed up his chest, neck, and finally his cheek, and for a moment, your hand was still on his face with only your thumb moving to stroke the scar that was stripped away from his hair. Leon furrowed his brows. The inside of your lip was lightly bitten as you thought about your next action for a moment. But decided that fuck it, life is short. If he felt the same way than congrats! But if he didn't, well, it's either he'll pull away or kiss back with no purpose. And hey, what's the matter with making out with your best friend?

And so, you drew a bit closer, albeit rather slowly in case Leon wanted to pull away. But seeing as he was copying your motions, you saw his intention and pressed your lips against his in a shy lip-lock.

Five

Leon tugged on his tie as he looked at the people dancing around inside of the venue, his heart doing a little dance of its own when he saw you smiling with the crowd.

He blew a sigh, the breeze intertwining with the air. He could see the party from the balcony: flashes of different color schemes, the swaying of dresses as the women moved, the chattering of people as they drank the glasses of champagne. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe this was all about you and him; two souls entwined by love.

"I see you didn't invite me," a sultry and velvety voice said from beside him. He knew who it was and it didn't faze him anymore to see her appearing uninvited as she always did.

"What are you doing here, Ada?"

"What, I can't go see two of my favorite people anymore?"

"Well, it always ended in a mess, anyway, so what's the point." Ada chuckled in response and leaned back against the railing, the smile her giggling left still ghosting on her face. It was all jokes, fun, and games to her for a moment until she turned serious and gazed at you from a distance where you couldn't notice.

"Take care of each other, Leon. You both are worth more than what you give yourselves credit for," she muttered. "I wish I could've given her the life you're giving to her now. But I can't, and I'll remain like this until I die."

In the depths of her mind, Ada reminisced on the time when she was in Leon's position. She gave the love you needed and wanted, and cared for you in so many ways. But she was a mercenary, a wanted one at that, and she knew that one day, everything would be thrown into a void or burned until it turned to ashes. So, she broke what you had off and handed you to Leon where he could give you a better life.

Leon couldn't say anything. It seemed rude and odd but he remembered when you knocked on his door, drenched in rain water and sobbing everything from your chest. It hurt to see you like that. And so, he promised. He promised to be the best husband he could ever be and shower you with everything he could give you.

"Leon!" Your voice rang out as you ran towards him with a wide smile on your face, startling the both of them.

Leon turned towards where Ada stood but saw that she was gone as if she was nothing but an apparition that was made by his mind.

He was befuddled for a moment, pondering about his encounter with the woman, but found his heart racing as you came closer to him.

What transpired was long forgotten and all the world could see how Leon mimicked the smile that defined the joy you brought to him. He was just happy to share such a beautiful moment with you and he optimistically wondered about what was ahead of you.

He pulled you towards him and spun you around as he battered your face with kisses, whispering 'I love you's and so many more sweet nothings against your cheeks while you laughed in his arms.

Hidden within the shadows was the raven-haired woman, imitating their smiles as she watched the intimacy from afar. She felt like her mission was done and although it hurt, she was thankful for what she'd done. Leon was going to give you the life you deserved and he was going to fill the holes she'd left.

*****

This was rushed. Lol. And I'm using my phone. How was it tho?

This was the outfit I had in mind. Feel free to change it though.