#this is a MESS so i bolded names to make it maybe slightly easier to find anyone in particular

[ticklishpeter]

𝐭𝐮𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

STRAP IN EVERYONE THIS IS A BUMPY RIDE

ok first of all :: here’s my ranking from least to most ticklish (and yes im including lila fuck off): allison, luther, ben, klaus, lila, vanya, five, diego!!!! like theyre all hella ticklish, don’t get me wrong, but khjdfs this is like based on how many spots they have tbh

a whole fckin novel under the cut tbh jhkgfsd

allison’s worst and perhaps only spot is her armpits???? she’s real giggly and v free and open about it!!!! squeals galore m8

luther’s legs??? like his whole legs?? and his feet. and like his neck but only lowkey;;; basically everything that wasn’t effected by the serum

well  um… ben’s dead. but he’s about as ticklish and squeaky as a dead boy could be!! he tries to keep his laughter silent bc he’s embarrassed about it 🥺 his tummy’s sensitive as heck but they all have to be real careful just in case they end up summoning something on accident hfwkjs, and his feet are also HELLA ticklish ok

so yeah, klaus’ hips being the WORST is a big sorta community-wide headcanon and i’m so super on board, but also his ribs?? especially the backs of them / his shoulder blades?? and his palms tbh?? he’s screamin 

lila’s ribs and inner thighs are like,, hyper sensitive?? but also her butt and tops of her feet? kjsdygh don’t ask me why. she’s also a big squealer and would definitely punch u successfully if u tease her about it ok she’s baby

another baby: vanya 🥺🥺🥺 another rly popular headcanon is that she gigglesqueaks at the slightest touch on her neck/under her chin/around her ears kfjhdgb and i absolutely love it but she also is so squirmy when she gets tickled basically everywhere ,, but only soft tickles bc hard ones overwhelm her lowkey

FIVE’S KNEES OKAY im ON THE BANDWAGON. scribbles or squeezes on or around his knees make him SCREAM BLOODY MURDER and he covers his face almost always bc one time klaus took a picture of his scrunched up red laughing face and he just,,, damn he really wishes he wasn’t in his 13 y/o body bc how ticklish he is just makes him feel like such a baby and he hates it. hiS ribs and armpits are also so so bad. also he’s a kicker for SURE

and diego… wowowow diego. ticklish evERYWHERE ok but he’s also the type to be like squealing and giggling “i’m not! i’m not!!!!” when someone teases him asking if he’s ticklish. he’s a VIOLENT THRASHER and even tho, again he’s ticklish everywhere, get his tummy or his sides??? ur DONE bro he loses his strength but just throws himself around and snorts a TON. he’s also super easily brought to tears and hiccupy cackles (honest to god i could do a whole post about lee!diego i love him so much)

diego's laughter is mostly silent but like you'll hear the occasional squeak or hiccup, which makes him cover his face bc embarrassment and tough boys don't squeak. bouncy shoulders and just trEMBLING w laughter uwu

luther honestly only lets allison tickle him sans revenge kjhdfs any other siblings that try?? theyre gettin grabbed and wrecked ok. but w allison, he just kinda giggles and really gently tries to squirm away uwu

lila’s teases, towards diego especially, are BRUTAL “aww what’s the matter, knife boy? is someone’s tummy a wittle tickwish?” and um,,, while he’s like trying not to break, she gets up real close to his face and gives him this fucking DEADLY teasy grin before wrecking him with pokes. all that combined makes him sNORT n break which lila laughs at and makes him blush even more kwfhjds

fivey uses his teleportation to his advantage,, he’ll sneak up on his siblings, squeeze their sides, and blink away in like seconds so he’s hard to catch,  and he’s so COCKY about it all ,, unless he’s being tickled of course, he gets totally powerless

vanya didnt get like any tickles up until like,,,, maybe just this last season lmao but she would always notice the kids having tickle fights or grace giving them lil cheer up pokes so i have in my mind that sissy was the first to tickle her (sissy prob just touched her neck a little too soft and vanya just melted)

and now the ones who tickle vanya the most are deFINITELY allison and klaus

five turns into a fish outta water when his knees are squeezed lmao (aj reference not intended),,, but i just picture his WHOLE body fucking FLAILING and him just kicking like a kid having a tantrum

diego and five both curse up STORMS and hurl HELLA death threats when theyre tickled like,,, anywhere.  perhaps bc they always insist theyre not ticklish lmao and so they gotta keep that big boy facade goin somehow (but yk it’s hard when ur a giggle puddle)!!!!

i can just hear them both cackling and squeaking before “YOU FUCKING BASTAHAHAHHHJKSDBDR” and klaus being all teasy n shit like “i dont think i caught that, i’m fucking who now??”

which ofc brings me to my headcanon that klaus, along with allison, are the biggest lers of the family tbh (which is wild bc klaus is my fav and usually with my favs i’m like ✨ur a lee✨ but idk man) tHEY’RE BOTH JUST SO TEASY

let’s face it tbh allison’s basically the mom of the group so she’s def the one that’s giving them tickles if she can tell theyre upset but also so frickin mean in a tickle fight ksdgjy

and i know klaus would just be ruthless as a ler,, and he finds tickles fun and almost relaxing in a way (except for his hips; that’s a death wish) which ofc is no fun for his siblings who wanna torture him hwkjsfg

klaus usually wins tickle fights if theyre one on one??? unless it’s against ben,, which sucks bc he’s the only one who could even wreck ben so to lose to a ghost? humiliating kshdjg,  ben can tickle ppl while he’s possessing them by just tickling the body he’s in lmao so yeah he gets klaus a LOT

but as of late, klaus will give ben a few pokes and tickles just to hear his noises bc theyre just,, SO FUNNY to him  which usually results in a slap in the face and hella revenger from benjamin LOL

some of them have little things they just repeat when theyre getting tickled and laughing so hard like,,,  diego just strainingly goes “nonononono,” lila squeals “shitshitshitshit,” five just grunts expletive after expletive: “fuckingshitihateyoufuckfuck,” and vanya honestly kinda sounds like “sksksksks” bc she starts saying stop but she doesn’t want it to stop so she’s stops herself kdufsjh

you'd think that luther would be able to get away from tickles super easily but all of his strength is just LOST like immediately ,,, and when it's not, he doesn't want to hurt anyone so he just takes it and rolls around so tickle fights have been pretty comical lmao

highkey tho tickle fights between diego and lila are actually like really tough matches??? like there's never really a clear winner bc theyre both just so stubborn and ticklish and would never admit defeat

ray tickled allison ALL the time bro like the precious couple they always were meant to be and ray always took so much pride in the fact that he wasn’t ticklish at all lmaoooo

baby talk teases frickin DESTROY fivey tbh they annoy him so much but they just make him all the more giggly

ok those are all my general ones that came to me right just now at 9:47pm on august 9 2020 lmao

[3rdgymbros]

— title; when a good man hurts you, and you know you hurt him too

— pairing; tomo (kazuha’s friend) x electro archon! reader

— summary; in which even the former lover of the electro archon is not exempt from the divine punishment

— notes; happy birthday to the amazing @bluexiao ! i wrote this while listening to the genshin ost, lovers’ oath (and i’m crying again).

Your obsidian throne stands on a dais at the centre of the round, dome-roofed throne room. The throne is carved from solid black stone in the shape of flames that appear to kiss whoever sits upon it.

You look down from your throne, over the dark-heads of your retainers and supporters, and down at the man lying on the floor. His clothes are tattered and blood-drenched, and his face is a mottled mess of bruises and torn skin. Beneath the blood, his features are fine and delicate, with expressive eyes the colour of amethysts.

“Any last words?” Sara draws her short sword and steps towards Tomo’s prone form. She presses the blade to his neck, drawing blood, before lifting the sword again to ready the killing strike. You’ve seen this done too many times to the rebels threatening your rule. “If not, for the crime of –”

But Tomo doesn’t flinch from the blade. The only move he makes is to tilt his head to look you in the eyes. “I wish to speak to the Raiden Shogun.”

The blade digs deeper into his flesh. “– After threatening our Archon, you would be so bold as to –”

“Sara.” You say, your fingers gripping the arms of the throne so tightly that they turn white. You gesture at her to stop. “I’ll allow it. I will speak with him.”

Sara bows her head and withdraws, sheathing her blade and stepping away. You’re careful to keep your face impassive as you rise from your throne, gliding down the steps with the grace of a ghost before coming to a halt before Tomo. Even bruised and injured as he is, he manages to raise his head, a smile tugging up the edges of his lips.

“[ NAME ]. It’s been a while.”

You remember him from another lifetime, a gentle man, his face young and unbloodied. Memories surge forwards, even as you try to press them down. You remember him standing by your side, whispering in your ear and making you laugh, your frosty visage shattering for the briefest of moments in his company. You remember him lifting you into his arms so that you can pluck apples and sunsettias from the orchard in the palace gardens. You remember him smiling at you, as though the two of you shared a secret.

You have to push those thoughts aside to focus on the broken man in front of you. “Tomo.” You snap, your lips curving up into a mockery of his smile. You haven’t been called by your true name in a very long time, and the realisation makes your stomach twist, despite the hardness in your voice. You lower your voice, remembering the presence of your retainers. This is not a conversation you want them to hear. “What would you ask of me?”

There it is, a tremble so slight that you might have missed it if you haven’t known him as long as you have. He’s a stranger to you now, but for a moment, that mask has slipped. Just enough to remind you of what the two of you meant to each other, what you once were, how far you’ve fallen in such a short time. But as soon as it appears, it’s gone. Sealed away behind distant violet eyes and a face free from emotions.

“Do you really believe that you’re doing the right thing?” His body goes rigid and his fists are clenched. For a moment, you wonder if he’ll leap to his feet and run you through with a concealed blade, but he doesn’t. He only watches you, cold eyes glowing in the dim light.

The earth between the two of you has been scorched and frozen and salted for good measure. It’s not a place where anything will ever grow again.

After a breath of silence, you say, “I will not falter now. I have promised the people an unchanging eternity. No matter what I have to sacrifice to achieve my goal, I will change this country.”

“Will they be happy?” Tomo presses. Now, more than ever, you’re acutely aware of the hitch in his voice, of his pain, bleeding out into his words. You almost find yourself wishing that he would rage or yell or fight. It would be better than having him look at you like this, as though you’re slowly destroying him from the inside out. “Will you be happy?”

A spark in your eyes, a clench of your jaw. “I will make it so.”

The restless whispers of your court are a signal that you’ve already let this conversation last for far too long. Slipping the outer robe off your shoulders, the crowd is quick to fall silent at the sight of your chest bursting into an explosion of vivid purple light that extends to forever. A flow of emotion and heat pour from your body, illuminating the entire night sky. Illuminating the entire world.

“One last thing, then.” Tomo says, his eyes already drawn to your movements, quick and elegant as you draw your sword from within your body. He must sense, as you do, that your time together is quickly drawing to an end. “Was it real?”

You hesitate. Your fingers tremble, ever so slightly, around your blade. It would be better to lie to him. It would make all of this easier, for the both of you. In his last moments, allow him to go to his death thinking that you hate him, and maybe one day, you’ll be able to hate him, too. But you’ve lied to him too many times already.

“Yes.”

Tomo smiles. It is a beautiful, broken thing.

And then, he closes his eyes and waits for your blade to find its mark.

— taglist; @oikadiors, @r3k1s, @mika-zuko, @bluexiao, @ohmykazuha​, @fluffedstar​, @test-tube

[oumaheroes]

Afterlife

Word Count: 2229

Names:

Alba- Scotland

Cymru- Wales

Albion- England

Ériu- Ireland

Set in the same world as ‘Wind Walk’

-----------

‘What happens when we die?’

Alba paused, halfway through carving a gouge in a block of wood to look over at Albion where he was stood by the fire, face turned to the flames. He had his back to Alba, a roughly spun blanket draped over his shoulders which was made from thick, undyed wool that scratched but did the job. Cymru was getting the hang of making them now, able to weave in a few patterns if he had the time and the colours, but it was haphazard work and nothing fancy at all. They were sometimes able to trade for nicer ones, ones with intricate designs of knots and swirls, charms woven into the fabric to dance across borders and seams, but food was more important, usually. Things they couldn’t catch or pick from the land, like bread.

Mama had never really praised overly nice things, or stressed their importance beyond a passing aesthetic appreciation, and so none of them were too concerned that their everyday clothes were dull and shapeless. Their nicer things Alba kept in a bag at all times near his person- golden armlets and bracelets folded in the plaid of their family woven by Mama herself to show them as children of the earth, Gods amongst men. Rich colours and bold patterns that Cymru eyed with greedy wonder.

Alba saved these for when they visited their people, the scatterings of them spread across the island that bore them. He was thankful that he and his siblings didn’t really grow.

‘What do you mean?’

Albion hesitated, mouth pressing into a tight line before opening again to speak, ‘When we die. Because people…’ Albion shifted, casting a quick glance back to him before turning once again to the fire, ‘humans don’t come back, do they?’

Alba, gave up on whittling anything further and sat up straighter, left hand holding what would one day be a bowl resting on his knee, ‘No, they don’t.’

He looked about their camp from his spot on the floor, back pressed again the trunk of a large tree they’d pitched their shelter against. Despite it being night Cymru was off somewhere, away on one of his walks that sometimes took him for days and there was no telling when he’d be back. This time Alba wasn’t too sure what had caused him to need space, the air was calm and friendly amongst them all, but Cymru had grown silent and still regardless and Alba had followed him with watchful eyes until he had taken himself away, seeing him retreat to the West where he could feel him linger on the edge of his perception.

He was the one that usually had these conversations, the ones where there wasn’t a clear answer, or a kind answer. Cymru could mould the truth into something palatable, something easy to understand and swallow without it becoming a lie. These sorts of conversations were not Alba’s strength- he did not like things for which there was no answer, or no easy answer, and so either worked at them silently until there was one, or ignored it. Not all things needed to be understood or reasoned with, some things just were and it was easier in the end to accept that.

But Alba had a feeling that Albion was leading to one of those sorts of questions and he was going to have to be the one to answer it.

‘But we do come back,’ Albion continued on. He said it as a statement; the tone was unquestioning but also unsure and Alba cracked his knuckles on one hand with his thumb as he tried to read between what Albion was saying and what he might be leading up to.

‘Yes, we do.’

An unspoken ‘sometimes’ fell flat and awkward between them. Mama hadn’t come back.

Albion looked down at the ground and rolled a stone underneath his foot. He was barefoot, again, because he refused to stay in shoes for very long if he could help it, and he balanced the pebble under the ball of his foot, round and around.

‘What is it?’ Alba knew this had come out rougher than he had intended by the way Albion’s shoulders twitched, a sudden self-conscious jolt that made Alba click his tongue in regret and try again. He was still getting used to this, ‘What are you thinking about?’

Alba watch the curve of Albion’s brow furrow into a frown, light from the flames silhouetting him and making him appear older and unknown, ‘Do we turn human? When we die? Is that why Mama…’ he trailed off, no words needed.

‘No, we don’t,’ he said it confidently but really, Alba knew as much as anyone did. Which is to say, he knew nothing concrete at all. None of them truly knew what happened to Mama, although her disappearance was as sure and real to him as much as his own hand was. Mama wasn’t missing or elsewhere, she was gone. He felt it as a truth deep within him, somewhere ancient formed long before his time. No matter what Alba didn’t know, he knew this all too well, ‘we stay as we are. We fade, when our time comes.’

He could see that this reply brought more questions than it did answers and thought of a way to try and fill the gaps, ‘humans die from age or sickness, or injury. We die from other things.’

Albion turned around to face him fully, ‘Like what?’

‘By the Gods, what is it with you today? Why so many questions?’

Albion scowled and lightly kicked the pebble he was worrying away from the fire. It rolled somewhere to Alba’s left, landing by the roots of a small shrub. They both watched its progress, ‘doesn’t matter.’

Damn it. ‘Don’t be huffy, why’re you asking all of a sudden?’

Albion shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tensed under the blanket, pulling it tighter around him and huddling in on himself. He ducked his head to stare somewhere off and down, ‘You’ll laugh.’

‘No, I won’t,’ Alba was slightly offended, although it couldn’t say for sure that it was unwarranted. Maybe there had been times when he’d read his youngest brother wrong. Albion was often prickly and capricious and it was difficult to tell how he was truly feeling, hard to know whether he was hiding another truth under thorns.

Alba also wasn’t used to talking with him in such a way yet. Before Mama died, he could be a brother: tease Albion whenever he said something stupid, or fell over, or messed up. But now Alba had to be something more, had suddenly found himself thrust in a role he didn’t ask for and the shape of caregiver hung too large on him. He was trying to fill a space of parent for everyone but all he himself really wanted was for someone else to come and do it for him, for Mama to come back and fill it perfectly.

It was hard to know where to tread on a path you’ve never gone down before, especially one made by someone else.

Albion still looked unsure and as much as a large part of Alba was tempted to let it go, to take the easy option that was presented to him and move on with the evening, another, more stubborn, part wanted to prove Albion, and maybe himself, wrong, ‘I promise I won’t laugh. Now will you just spit it out?’

Albion remained staring somewhere at the ground between them, ‘what if-,’ he cut off, swallowing, ‘what if you die?’

There was a beat of silence in which a flurry of emotions coiled in Alba’s chest, ‘I will die. We all die.’

Albion pursed his lips tight together and blinked a few times in succession- too quick, ‘But I don’t- I don’t want you to.’

Alba’s throat felt thick suddenly, ‘Hey, come here.’

Albion refused to move, still studiously looking down at the ground and locked stubbornly in place, so Alba half stood to reach out and grab hold of the blanket and tug him closer. Albion stumbled at first, unwilling to allow himself to let go easily, but another tug had him near enough for Alba to wrap him in arms, falling back down into a sit with him. Once there, all pretence was dropped and Albion lifted his arms to curl them around Alba’s neck, chin coming to hook over his shoulder.

Alba shifted him to settle more comfortably on his lap, legs around his waist and blanket forgotten on the floor, and rubbed his back, holding him tight with his other arm. Albion’s hands gripped Alba’s tunic in a tight bunch, tugging it awkwardly askew around his back. They stayed there for a few moments, mostly silent and unmoving apart from the odd jolting repressed sob from Albion who still refused to give in completely.

After he’d calmed down, shaky breaths softening into regular breathing, Alba reached up to cup the back of his head and lightly ruffle his hair, ‘I’m not going anywhere any time soon.’

Albion sniffled and released one hold of Alba’s clothes to rub at his eyes, ‘How do you know?’

‘Because I do.’

Albion dropped his hand to once again grabbed hold of his tunic but looser, tugging and pulling at the fabric in a half-hearted distraction, and huffed, ‘That’s a stupid answer.’

Alba prodded him in the side, smiling when Albion twitched in surprise, ‘It’s the truth. I think Mama knew; we knew as well, didn’t we.’

Albion hmm’d, unwilling to agree. Alba knew he had noticed though, as small as he was. He had never fussed or questioned when she’d wandered away and left them, had never tried to follow her on her journeys alone. He had known, as they all had, that she was disappearing into time and a place no one could follow.

‘We are our people. We watch them and speak for them- we remember them,’ Alba shifted him and rested his cheek on the crown of Albion’s head, speaking into his hair, ‘when our people change, sometimes we can’t change with them. I think that’s what happened to Mama.’

Albion stayed silent. Alba could feel him thinking, sense him turning this over in his head to search for holes.

‘What brought this on?’ Alba tried again, gently. He felt Albion swallow against his shoulder.

‘Things feel more different now. Cymru goes away and sometimes I can’t feel where he goes. Ériu feels the most different and-‘ he paused for a moment, thinking, ‘humans feel different. Some I can’t feel them at all, I know they’re not mine now. So, I thought… what if…’

Alba raised his head and shrugged his shoulder for Albion to move off. He leant back, heavy in his lap, and Alba caught him by the chin to keep him from looking away, ‘Just because we’re growing apart now, doesn’t mean we’re going away,’ he smoothed a thumb under Albion’s eye before resting his hand on his neck, steady, ‘we’ll be different but we’ll still be here. You’ll know when it’s my time to go.’

Albion’s eyes slid to stare at Alba’s shoulder so he tapped him under the chin to get him to look back, ‘Alright? You’ll know.’

Albion gave a small nod, ‘yeah, okay.’

Alba eyed him critically, searching for anything lingering that he still wasn’t saying. Finding nothing and feeling satisfied that Albion had taken in what he’d said, Alba gave a moan and rubbed theatrically at his thighs, ‘Good, now get off- you’re heavy.’

Albion scowled, ‘No I’m not!’

‘By Gods you are, I can’t feel my legs.’

Albion shoved at his shoulder but stood, moving off to the side, ‘Maybe your legs are just weak.’

‘Maybe it’s all those raspberries you keep filching when you think I’m not looking.’

Albion coloured, ‘No it’s not!’

‘Must be, I did think you were looking rounder,’

Alba prodded Albion in the stomach and he scowled, swatting his hand away, ‘I’m not round!’

‘Well, you certainly ain’t a feather. Here,’ Alba picked up his block of wood and his carving knife and held them out to him, ‘help me work on this. It can be for you to carry the berries in rather than stuffing them in your shirt and staining everything.’

‘I don’t do that,’ Albion huffed but took the wood and tool anyway, sitting down next to him. Alba picked up the blanket and shook it out to shake off the dirt before draping it back around his shoulders.

‘Do you think I can’t tell? Stop grousing and hollow me out a hole, we can smooth it later.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Albion began to carve in the centre, widening the impressions Alba had made earlier.

Alba fished in his pocket for his hunting knife, ‘I’ll sharpen this and then go and check the rabbit traps.’

He leant behind him and around the tree for his travel bag, pulling it closer and rummaging about inside it for his whetstone.

‘Thanks.’

Albion’s voice was small and quiet- Alba probably wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t still been so alert to noise from him.

He prodded his brother on the arm with his knee and turned to carry on digging through his bag, ‘of course.’

-----------

AN:

Another mini story that will be fleshed out for AO3 one day. Can you tell I’m procrastinating updating my other WIPs? Because I am and I am a cretin.

This is very self-indulgent with no historical accuracy or research whatsoever- please forgive me. If I go digging for historical truth, I fall into a rabbit hole and that is very difficult to peel myself out of.

Thanks for reading!

[blueascend]

Omura Aimi had been working at Toyokawa for roughly four days when she realized that their ace salesman, Kurosawa, had a boyfriend.

To be fair, she had been on the lookout for particular signs. Omura hadn’t been able to be out at her last job and she’d been hoping that Toyokawa would be different. She’d done her best to befriend everyone, keeping her ear out for office gossip, getting the lay of the land.

The first time she saw Kurosawa with his boyfriend, she breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, if the most popular man in the office could be himself so openly, Omura wouldn’t have any issues.

Unfortunately, it soon became apparent to her that most of their coworkers weren’t aware of Kurosawa’s relationship status. Everyone seemed to believe he was single and straight.

How? Didn’t they have functioning eyes?

It became a slight obsession for Omura over the next week, watching Kurosawa blatantly flirt with his boyfriend without anyone noticing. They even had matching red pens they kept waving at each other like the least secret signal in the world!

Then one day, someone caught her staring.

“You have a crush on Kurosawa?” her coworker, Nakamura asked. She laughed, not unkindly. “Better get in line, then.”

“Huh?” Omura furrowed her brow. Kurosawa was now fixing his boyfriend’s tie, standing way too close to him to do so. “No, not really.”

“No?” That was Chino, her voice bright and shocked. “But just look at him.”

Omura looked at her coworkers, a knot forming in her stomach as she saw their confused expressions. Uh oh. She wasn’t ready for that kind of suspicion, not when she had no idea how they would react.

“He’s not my type?” she tried. When they kept staring, she added, “I, uh, like someone else?”

Nakamura and Chino glanced at each other. “Don’t tell me,” Nakamura said. “It wasn’t Kurosawa you were looking at, was it?”

“You like Adachi!” Chino concluded.

Omura swallowed. Adachi. Right, that was the name Kurosawa’s boyfriend wasn’t it?

Well, if it would throw them off her trail. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Both women giggled.

“He is cute, I guess,” Chino said. “And much more attainable than Kurosawa.”

Nakamura clapped her hands. “We need to get you two together! An office romance, this is so exciting!”

They were gone before Omura could object, whispering between themselves. Omura groaned. That could’ve gone better.

Someone tapped her shoulder and Omura turned around to see Fujisaki. They didn’t know each other that well, as Omura had spent most of her time with the other women in her department, but she’d heard nothing but kind things about her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be nosy but I overheard you. Just so you’re not disappointed, I think Adachi is actually seeing someone.”

‘I think he’s seeing someone’ she said, but the glimmer in her eye very clearly stated ‘I know he is’. Had Omura misread the situation, was she actually Adachi’s girlfriend?

But no, then she would have said as much. She didn’t seem jealous or territorial either, only genuinely concerned that Omura might be in for a disappointment. How much did she know?

Deciding to test the water, Omura carefully admitted, “To be honest, I didn’t even know his name. It’s just easier to say you like someone when people are asking. I’m new here, I wanted to fit in.”

“Ah.” Fujisaki’s gaze turned curious. She looked at Omura for a few moments and Omura wasn’t sure what conclusion she reached, but she finally offered a kind smile. “I see. In that case, I’m glad I don’t have to worry.”

Omura smiled back. Maybe it was too soon to tell but she felt like she had an ally in Fujisaki. 

*

“Omura, you are going to love this!”

Omura looked up from her laptop, seeing Nakamura and Chino approach her. “What?”

“We’ve just arranged for a group of us to go for drinks after work,” Nakamura said. “And we got Adachi to join! This will be the perfect chance for you two to spend time together.”

Omura’s stomach sank. “You - you did?” 

“Don’t be nervous,” Chino said, misreading her expression. She reached over the desk, putting her hand on Omura’s shoulder. “We’ll be right there with you if you need help.”

Nakamura nodded, shooting Omura a finger gun. “You got this.”

“I got this,” Omura echoed faintly.

There were eight of them at the bar later that night; Omura, Chino and Nakamura, as well as Fujisaki, Adachi, Kurosawa, and two male coworkers Omura hadn’t learned the names of yet. 

Chino and Nakamura, in full matchmaker-mode, managed to arrange the seating so that Omura and Adachi sat together at one end of the table, with Kurosawa and the rest of the women on the other. 

Omura glanced at poor Adachi, who looked supremely uncomfortable to be there. Even if he didn’t know about Omura’s supposed crush on him, he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy these kinds of gatherings. Omura was sure he’d much rather be at home, unwinding with his boyfriend after work.

Sorry Adachi, she told him in her mind. She frowned, considering. But at least now I can try to find out if I’m really right about your relationship with Kurosawa.

“Have I introduced myself to you yet?” she asked him.

Even that polite question was enough to startle him. “What? Ah, I don’t think so.”

She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile and nodded. “I’m Omura Aimi, I started working at Toyokawa recently.”

“Adachi Kiyoshi.” Adachi nodded back. “Do you - do you enjoy your work?”

“Very much.” Omura looked over at her friends, who both gave her not-so-subtle thumbs up. “It’s a nice atmosphere, much more friendly than my old workplace.”

“I see.”

An awkward silence descended between them. Omura had a sip of beer as she wondered what to say next. She had no idea how to casually broach a topic like hey, are you gay like me? Adachi mirrored her, grimacing slightly as he drank.

This really wasn’t his scene, huh?

“What do you like to do outside of work?” Omura finally asked. 

“I, ah,” Adachi fumbled as he placed his glass down, spilling a few drops of beer. “The usual things, I suppose. I like reading, drawing, playing on the Switch.”

“Yeah? I like video games too, I just started a new save file in Stardew Valley.”

Adachi perked up. “I’ve also been playing that. I got Kurosawa to join me in multiplayer but it’s been going kind of slow. He can’t master the fishing mini game and it’s been frustrating him. He’s not used to being bad at stuff.”

Omura giggled. “I can picture that. I love the multiplayer too, especially since I can use it to get married to-” my girlfriend, she barely stopped herself from saying. She cleared her throat, smiling awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Mhm,” Adachi agreed.

Another awkward silence commenced. Omura looked to her friends again but they were busy talking amongst themselves. Fujisaki met her eyes and smiled. Next to her sat Kurosawa and he was glancing between Omura and Adachi, frowning unhappily.

Maybe Omura was reading too much into it but he looked almost... jealous?

She turned back to Adachi, the desire to confirm her suspicions growing stronger than ever. Screw subtlety, what she needed was privacy.

“Adachi?” she asked. “Do you mind if we talk alone?”

Adachi stiffened, eyes widening in panic. “Eh?”

Omura stood up. “It will only take a moment.”

Reluctantly, Adachi got up as well and followed her. As they walked away, Omura could hear her friends talking, the alcohol likely making them a little too carefree and loud:

“-so bold! But I guess with a guy like Adachi, the woman has to take charge.”

“Do you think she’s going to confess already?”

Their voices faded away as they turned a corner. Omura lead Adachi to the balcony connected to the bar. It was thankfully empty and as Omura slid the doors shut behind them, they had perfect privacy.

“What did you want to talk about?” Adachi asked, clearly dreading the answer.

Omura bit her lip. How to word this? “You... we...” she rubbed her hands together, finally settling on, “I think we might have some things in common. Besides video games.”

“Like- like what?”

Omura opened her mouth to answer but before she could, the doors to the balcony were shoved open. Kurosawa stood in the doorway, looking as much a mess as Omura had ever seen - that is, still very put together, but hair slightly ruffled and cheeks pink from either the alcohol or the warmth inside the bar.

“Don’t!” he cried and this was it, as blatant a sign as Omura was ever going to get.

“Relax, Kurosawa,” she said. “I’m not going to confess to your boyfriend.”

Kurosawa blinked. “You’re not? But they just said-” he stopped himself short, clearly realizing what he’d just admitted. “I mean-”

“He’s not my type,” Omura cut in before he could panic too much. “Besides, I doubt my girlfriend would approve.”

Both Kurosawa and Adachi stared at her. For a second, Omura feared she’d really misunderstood them after all, but then Kurosawa slumped against the door in relief.

“I see,” he laughed.

Adachi looked relieved as well. “So that’s what you meant by ‘things in common’, huh?”

“Yeah,” Omura said. “But sorry if I made you nervous.”

“It’s fine.” Adachi waved his hand in dismissal. “How did you find out, anyway? Did Fujisaki tell you?”

So Fujisaki really was in the know. “No, and I don’t think she ever would. You two are just really obvious to those who know what to look for. Especially Kurosawa.”

Kurosawa shrugged, not looking the least bit ashamed. Adachi rolled his eyes fondly.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go back inside,” Omura said. “I’ll tell them I chickened out on confessing to you or something. They’ll lose interest in this whole thing soon enough.”

She passed Kurosawa, who stepped out onto the balcony as she went inside. As she closed the door behind her, she could hear Adachi teasing Kurosawa lightly:

“Were you being jealous again, Yuichi?”

“Don’t be mean. How could I help it when Kiyoshi is so cute, I want him all to myself!”

Adachi laughed but it was muffled. “Not here, someone could see!”

Omura shook her head as the doors sealed shut, leaving them to their privacy. 

She couldn’t wait to tell her girlfriend about this.

[wayward-dreamer]

The Right Direction

AO3 Link: Read Here

Square Filled: Dog walker!Jensen

Pairing: Dog walker!Jensen x Female!Dog walker!Reader

Word count: 2,839 (Wow! I wrote something under 5K lol!)

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes the wrong direction can turn out to be the right one.

Warnings: Some swearing, a bunch of cute dogs, fluff.

Created for @spnaubingo

A/N: This is written for @downanddirtydean‘s 500 followers challenge! Prompt is in bold. I hope you like it twin!! Thank you @deanwanddamons​ for being a beta on this! As always, I’d love to hear what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​ 

A wet nose and soft fur were the first things she felt on her hand every morning. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, a groan leaving her as they adjusted to the light in the room. She felt the bed shift and heard the sound of a collar shaking, her smile growing as the furry ball landed in her lap. She stroked her little Corgi’s fluffy hair, kissing the top of his head.

“Morning, Ringo.” She planted another kiss on his head, her hands alternating between squishing his face and running over his light brown and white fluffy coat. “Someone hungry?”

Ringo licked his lips, signalling he was more than ready for breakfast.

“Alright, come on,” she muttered as she gently dropped him down on the floor of her bedroom.

Y/N got up from her bed, laughing as Ringo scurried out of the door ahead of her, stopping to wait impatiently near his bowl. His round behind wiggled, excited to be receiving his breakfast as Y/N picked up the bag of dog food, dropping some into the metal bowl.

“Stay,” she commanded, watching his innocent brown eyes look up at her. Waiting for a few seconds, she smiled. “Eat.”

Ringo gave his lips another lick, bending down and gobbling up a few pieces of dry food at a time. She smiled at him and then went about getting ready for the morning, quickly changing into her sweatpants and oversized sweater, throwing her hair up in a messy bun. By the time she was ready, Ringo was finished eating.

“Alright, shall we go?” she said, bending down in front of him and petting under his chin. She clipped his leash onto his collar, patting him at the same time. “Now, I’m trusting you to be good with the other dogs, so you better listen to me. Okay?”

Ringo gave her a little whine, causing her to lift an eyebrow. “Ringo.”

His paws started to tap excitedly against the floorboards, making Y/N give him a smile. “Good boy,” she said, scratching behind his head and standing up.

She quickly grabbed her keys, phone and wallet, heading out the door of her apartment, and walking down a few flights of stairs, Ringo in tow. She knocked on the door of an apartment, smiling as Mrs. Morris greeted her. She held the leash of her 6-year-old Border Collie, Betty, in her hand and smiled at her.

“Morning, Y/N. How are you?” she asked, as Betty’s tail wagged excitedly when she saw Ringo, more than ready for her walk.

“I’m great, Mrs. Morris. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, can’t complain,” the older woman said, handing her the leash. “Betty’s a little too excited this morning.”

Y/N patted Betty a few times, shaking her head. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

With a goodbye, she walked Betty and Ringo down the last two flights of stairs, and out onto the sidewalk. She held onto the leashes, enjoying the sun but there was as a slight chill against her face on the bright autumn morning. They walked for about ten minutes, picking up more dogs along the way. A Bulldog, a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua. Y/N walked them into the dog park, knowing how much they loved to run around and play with each other. They were all from the same neighborhood and socially used to each other, making her job much easier. However, Y/N was in desperate need of caffeine, having forgone a cup at home to get the dogs. Making a quick stop at a vendor, she paid for her steaming cup of black coffee and continued to walk them all down the path in the park, trying to find a clear spot to sit down and let them run around.

Y/N kept the dogs in front of her, all of their leashes in one hand, and her drink in the other, trying to get away from unfamiliar pets they hadn’t interacted with yet. As she smiled down at her fur friends for the morning, she basked in the peacefulness of the walk.

Suddenly, Y/N screamed as she collided with another dog walker, a man completely distracted with his phone and not watching what the German Shepherd and Golden Retriever he was walking were doing. Her shoulder got knocked backwards, her arm coming up and spilling her piping hot coffee all down the front of her sweater. She screamed again as the liquid seeped through the material, making contact with  her skin. Thankfully, the sweater she was wearing was thick and she didn’t get severely burnt by the hot beverage.

“Oh my god! I am so, so sorry!” the man apologized, steadying the dog’s leash as he stashed his phone away.

“Sorry?! Watch where you’re going next time, you asshole!” she yelled, using her free hand to wipe the front of her sweater with her sleeve. She hadn’t even looked up at the man yet, focusing on cleaning herself. Her ever loyal companion, Ringo growled at the other dogs, who were slightly bigger than him and were growling back.

“Ringo, it’s okay,” Y/N said, calmly as she pulled lightly on all the leashes, moving the animals  behind her legs. They were all starting to bark, getting riled up by the man’s German Shepherd and Golden Retriever.

“I really am sorry,” the man said, as he pulled the dog he was walking back, “He gets really excited when he comes here, and I was trying to message someone-”

“Well maybe don’t do that,” she grumbled, soaking up the coffee with her sleeve as best as she could. She finally looked up, her eyes blinking as she took in the guy who bumped into her. He was incredibly gorgeous, with green eyes that looked guilty and soft and plump lips that he was biting into. She looked like an absolute mess in her casual attire, and here he was, towering over her and looking like a male model in a dog park.

“Please let me buy you another,” he said, sheepishly as he pointed to her shirt.

She shook her head, a little stunned by the good-looking man in front of her. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I feel terrible,” he muttered, frowning as he gestured to the German Shepherd “He pulled suddenly while I was texting. It’s no excuse, I know, but he must’ve gotten excited when he saw your dogs.”

“It’s really okay,” Y/N reassured him. She felt awful for yelling at him now that she saw how apologetic he was, “They’re not mine. I’m a dog walker. Only the Corgi belongs to me.”

“I am too, but this guy is mine,” he smiled, gesturing to the German Shepherd next to him, who was now sitting and looking up at Y/N. “His name’s Jagger.”

“Jagger? As in Mick?” she asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling. He patted the top of the Golden Retriever’s head, smiling. “This is Astro. Neighbor’s kid is a big Jetsons fan.”

Y/N laughed, gesturing to her best friend in the whole world, “This is Ringo.”

“As in Starr?” he asked, smirking.

She laughed again, nodding. “Yeah. The Border is Betty, the Bulldog is Jackson, the Pom is Mimi, and the Chihuahua is Coco.”

“Ringo and Jagger… we sure know how to pick some good names,” he said, smiling at her.

“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling back at him. “Anyway, I should get going.”

“I really feel awful about this,” he muttered, frowning. “Can I make it up to you some time?”

She bit her lip, smiling as she shrugged. “We’ll see.” She would have to think about it, considering they had just met, and it wasn’t exactly the greatest first meeting.

“I’m Jensen, by the way.” He offered his hand, smiling softly at her. She took it in hers and felt the butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter.

“Y/N,” she said, smiling back at him. She looked down when she felt a wet nose against her hand, seeing Jagger nudging at her hand. She crouched down and patted him down, scratching behind his ears. The dogs tried to move around her to get to him, but she kept nudging them away, lightly. He whined when she stood up, pulling on his leash as he tried to follow her.

“Jagger, no. We gotta go, man,” Jensen told the dog, steering him in the other direction with Astro in tow.

With one last look at the man who she was totally caught off guard by, Y/N led the dogs away, unfortunately having to cut their walk short.  Jensen smiled as he turned and watched her walk away, hoping that he would see her again. He felt terrible and just hoped he had another shot to get to talk to Y/N. He had seen her from across the park before the collision happened. She was beautiful and despite the horrible circumstance, the moment their eyes met he knew he was done for.

They always say dogs have the best instinct about people, and Jensen was happy to know that Y/N was a good person according to Jagger’s eagerness to go with her. He just hoped there would be no hot coffee in the way of him getting to talk to her the next time he saw her.

A few days had passed since the incident in the park. Y/N was back there again, this time only with Ringo, and it was just after lunch. She handed in her article for the week, meeting her deadline a day early and decided to take her fluff ball for a run around in the dog park once she had submitted the article to her editor. She laughed as he ran circles around her on the grass, a blur of brown and white fur. As he continued to run, Y/N’s attention was suddenly taken away from him, as she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned and smiled, seeing the handsome dog walker who bumped into her a few days ago, a white cup in one hand, the leash to his beautiful German Shepherd in the other.

“A peace offering?” he stated.

“You didn’t have to,” she said, shaking her head.

He held out the cup insistently, smiling when she took it. “Yes, I did.”

She held her palm out, allowing the dog to come near her. The animal sniffed her a few times and licked her hand.  Y/N instantly moved her hand behind his ears to pet him. “He’s gorgeous.” As is his owner she thought to herself as she looked at Jensen, “How old is he?”

“He’s four,” Jensen told her, smirking. “Still acts like a puppy sometimes, though.”

“Aren’t they always a puppy no matter how big they get?” she asked, chuckling. Jagger started nudging against Y/N, wanting her to play with him. Jensen smiled, glad that his dog approved of her.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and looked down as Ringo came running to her, interested to see who her new friend was. Ringo hopped excitedly towards Jagger, not intimidated by the size difference between them at all.

“Hey buddy, you remember Jagger?” she asked, smiling brightly. She crouched down, calming him slightly as Jagger began to growl. Jensen got down to the dog’s level, holding him back slightly.

“Hey, behave,” Jensen commanded.

Comforting both of the dogs, Jensen let Jagger move forward a little first. He sniffed Ringo as Y/N let him go slightly too, to do the same. They tried to figure each other out, and one lick from Jagger had Ringo running off, turning to see if he would follow. Jensen let him off the leash, watching as he ran off, both of them play- fighting as they rolled over on the grass. Y/N and Jensen stood back, watching their dogs become fast friends.

“He doesn’t take to small dogs so quickly,” Jensen remarked as he watched his German Shepherd play with the small Corgi.

“Ringo loves every dog he comes across,” Y/N said, smiling as she watched them play. “So, I’m glad he found another friend.”

“Me too,” he muttered, smiling. “Jagger’s been lonely. I keep thinking I should get another one just so he doesn’t feel it anymore.”

“Well, until you do… he’s welcome to play with Ringo,” she stated, smiling at the gorgeous man next to her. The butterflies had returned, and she was finding it hard to keep her cool around him.

“Thanks.” Jensen smiled back at her, trying not to hold eye contact with her for longer than necessary, suddenly nervous to be near to her again.

After that afternoon, Jensen and Y/N had a standing meeting every Thursday afternoon in the dog park. As Jagger and Ringo played together, Y/N and Jensen would talk about everything they could before the dogs exhausted themselves. They discussed how they got the dogs, what they did for a living apart from dog walking (Jensen told her he worked at a brewery and Y/N told him she wrote for the paper), their favourite movies, books, music and more. By the fourth meeting, Y/N was hoping that he would ask her out on an official date. She knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling an attraction between them and wished more than anything that he would pluck up the courage and ask her. Maybe she would have to if he didn’t, but that was something she had never done before.

On the day of their usual meeting, Y/N and Jensen strolled the length of the park, walking Jagger and Ringo side by side. Every now and then, they would turn and smile at each other, as Jensen kept telling himself to open his mouth and ask her out on a date. Letting the dogs off their leashes, the owners watched on as they did every week, the dogs now absolute best friends. A brown leaf fell from the tree branch above Jensen and Y/N, landing on her nose and getting stuck there. Jensen laughed as he leaned over, using his thumb and forefinger to remove it.

“Thanks,” she whispered, looking up at him. Their bodies were close, both of them in slightly warmer clothes now that the weather was turning.

“No problem,” he mumbled, smiling. He looked out ahead at the park, worrying his lip as he thought about how to approach the subject of asking her on a date. “Okay, so…”

“What’s up?” she asked,  her stomach fluttering at the thought that the moment had finally arrived.

“I, uh… I really like you, Y/N,” he told her, his smile becoming wider as he turned to her.

“I really like you too, Jensen,” she said, beaming up at him.

He sighed in relief, nodding. “Okay, so then… I would love to- I mean that is if you want to, I really want to take you on a non-dog park date.” Dear Lord, this isn’t going well he told himself as he cringed at his bad attempt to ask her out.

“You know…” She laughed as she looked into his eyes. “Must be hard with your sense of direction. Never being able to find your way to a decent pick-up line.”

Jensen chuckled nervously, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” she said, smiling as she winked.

A moment passed as they continued to look at each other. Jensen backtracked, a little more confident this time.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her. “Y/N, would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

She smiled up at him, finding him so adorable in that moment. “Yes.”

The first date turned into a second. The second into a third. They would meet up in the dog park, some days with Jagger and Ringo, and others with all the others they would walk on a regular basis. With huddles of dogs of different breeds, they walked closer and closer to each other, stealing kisses and loving looks.

Dates and dog walking turned into getting down on one knee, the ring box clipped to Ringo’s collar as Jensen asked Y/N if she wanted to spend her life with him, with Jagger in tow.

They married in a small ceremony, with Jagger and Ringo at their feet, more than happy to be best fur friends forever.

And eventually… the news of an addition to their little family came, with Jensen and Y/N completely over the moon with the dogs getting a human brother or sister.

Y/N sat on the couch, smiling as she patted Jagger and Ringo’s heads, both of them sitting on either side of her, their noses close to her growing belly. Jensen walked in, a bowl of popcorn in his hand, settling into the couch next her, putting Ringo’s body over his legs. Y/N turned to him and leaned in, kissing his lips softly as he turned to her.

They say that dogs have great instinct.

And for that, Jensen and Y/N would always be grateful to have two fur companions that brought them into each other’s lives.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, Tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester

[aetheternity]

Opposite sides attract (Eren x Reader)

I was thinking this could take place around season 3 but with older Eren. Technically it would make more sense from a manga standpoint than the anime. This is Nsfw so 18+ only.

Synopsis: Eren meets a beautiful girl while being held hostage. He's waiting for death or his teammates but all he can think about is you.

"You can't be fucking serious." Eren watched as the two men in front of him bickered unable to speak thanks to the device in his mouth.

"You were leaving anyway right? And I've got business with Rod Reiss. This chick is new but she's feisty, trust me she won't let Eren out of her sight."

"Whatever!" The bigger man threw his hands up in defeat. "If anything happens it's on you, Kenny."

"It's just one night!" Kenny remarked throwing his arms up with a dramatic huff, "It'll be fine."

The husky man groaned, "Come on Flegel." The two of them quickly exited and Kenny placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Hey, Historia's in the back. But everyone's more worried about titan boy here. So don't mess this up."

"Sure." You replied and with that Kenny was also leaving.

You immediately felt Eren's large green eyes on you. His gaze falling slowly over your facial features, then down your neck, over your chest and hips where they stayed for a little too long-

"If you've got something to say you should say it." You smirked, and you watched irritation work its way onto his features.

He huffed, rolling his eyes and you smiled a little feeling his green pupils stay on you. His head resting against the back of his chair.

"I guess not." You remarked, smirking at the way he grunted over the device between his teeth.

He shifted a bit shoulders splaying as he took a deep breath. It was hard not to stare, even through his shirt you could see the tensing of his abs. His biceps flexing against the remarkably thin fabric. And-

Shit..

He was trying to smile that was for sure. His green eyes sparkling where they held onto you.

"Shut up." You mumbled

He let out a breathy chuckle before repositioning himself in the chair. You both fell quiet for what was probably two minutes until you felt his gaze boring holes into you again. You grunted and moved to pull the biter from his mouth.

"I'm not here for your entertainment, you know." You huffed, staring him down.

"No, but you're the first person to watch over me who isn't an old man."

You couldn't help the way your lips curled up into a smile. You felt his eyes still staring you down, somehow much more intense than before. Your peripheral vision catching the slick movement of his pink tongue casting over just as pink lips.

"Can I ask what your name is?" He asked, you couldn't tell when you looked over at him what he might be thinking.

You scoffed, gaze drifting. "You didn't hear it when I came in? I guess titan powers don't include good hearing."

Surprisingly enough he smirked looking at you from the corners of his eyes. "Nope, I just get bigger."

Your jaw almost hit the floor but you refrained from letting it show on your face. This had been the first job Kenny had let you go on since you joined his gang. You definitely couldn't mess it up.

"Hey." Eren said, tilting his head forward. "Why are you with Kenny?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't look like the kind of girl that should be working against the law. Aren't you worried the military police are going to come for you?"

You rolled your eyes stepping forward so that you were in front of his chair. In one swift motion you kicked it over allowing it to fall flat against the floor with a heavy thud. Eren grunted as he slammed against cold tile.

"Oh yeah, And why would you care? You don't even know me." You said, your breath was fanning his face and he blinked up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't have to know you to know you're working with horrible people who don't care about you."

You yanked his chair back up, settling into his lap. Delicate thumb coming up to inch over soft pink lips, edging them open slightly. "Does that concern you titan boy?"

When your lips pressed against his it was to test the waters. Hands sliding up to his ears, grazing the soft hairs on his face. Coming in close again you sealed your lips once more.

"What're you trying to do?" Eren asked his voice low like his words were a secret.

You couldn't help the soft snicker that fell from your lips right before you kissed him again. You were surprised by how firm he was right off the bat, pressing back like he'd been waiting to do this all day.

You pulled away again, looking into his slightly hazed over green eyes. "I was just thinking a girl this pretty doesn't have to do some guys dirty work." He said

You caught him off guard this time. Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, tugging it back with you then letting it go bringing your mouth flush against his. One of your hands traveled down his neck to his chest twisting his shirt in your fingers roughly yanking him forward.

He broke away face barely inches from yours. "Hnn so rough.." he practically growled

You felt his thighs spread and you pulled him back in with a smirk. His breath caught, air flushing over your mouth when you grounded your hips into his lap. The print of his cock making your thighs clench around his waist.

"Hmm, someone's easily turned on." You giggled, pulling him as close as you could with both hands tangled in his hair.

"Yeah, the girl that crawled into her captives lap." He shot back

You didn't expect his tongue but when it prodded against your lips, you opened up. Fuck his tongue.. it sent shivers down your spine as he carefully picked you apart. He wrapped his tongue around yours with ease coaxing a moan from your throat.

You felt yourself slowly submitting to Eren's playful bites against your tongue. Gasping when he left a couple against your lips and the sides of your mouth.

"Take the cuffs off." Eren grunted in between breaths that tickled your cheeks.

"I'm not supposed to."

His groan made your stomach ache. He pressed back into you and you held him tightly in place. Hands running up his back.

"Please." He begged "I wanna take your shirt off."

"So bold." You whispered against his lips. In an instant you had scooted back, shrugging off your plain black tee.

His hum of acknowledgment met with some soft grinding against his cock. You couldn't help but claw at his shirt over the breathy hums and grunts he let slip.

He leaned in closer to your ear, " I wanna touch them."

You met his lips with a chaste kiss which he chased when you pulled back. "Good things come to those who wait." You warned

You inched your fingers under the hem of his shirt wanting to tease him but also being partially impatient yourself. Surprisingly the article of clothing slipped over Eren's head easily, tangling itself in the cuffs.

Eren bucked up into you and you laughed slightly, now you actually did tease a little. Your fingers inching the straps of your bra off your shoulders before unclasping the thing sliding it the rest of the way off and chucking it off to the side.

You didn't miss the way Eren groaned at your chest now completely bare in front of him. He leaned in latching his mouth to your collarbone layering it with bites and soft kisses. You were much quicker with his pants then you had been with his shirt, unbuttoning and unzipping till you were touching the head of his hard cock.

He let out a moan that caught in his throat as your hand flicked over warm, hard flesh. "You have a really nice dick." You whispered to him. His moans were flooding your ear and you felt yourself tremble.

"If you like.. it so.... much why don't you.. put your mouth on it?" Your hand froze and he leaned back to look at you. "I didn't.." he paused in his speech and you quickly took in his dazed expression as you flop to the floor. Your hands tugginghis pants down as much as possible.

"You won't be needing these anymore." It was way more difficult then you'd realized to slip Eren's pants off but you managed. Had him plopping back down in his seat with his bare cock flush in front of your face.

He took a deep breath opening your throat to swallow his length. Eren gasped his eyes rolling to the back of his head and then shut tight. The breathless pants falling off his lips bouncing off the chipped paint on the walls.

Maybe you should've taken it easier on him. You thought with a smile to yourself.

His hips bucked up into your mouth but you quickly held him down. He was stretching your mouth in a way you kind of enjoyed. Exaggerating the slurping noises as you kept your place slow and relaxed.

"Hnngh please.." Eren begged

You looked up at him. His green eyes were open again, watery but watching every move you made.

"Please what?"

"The fucking cuffs." He grunted, eyebrows etched together.

You reached for the base of his cock flicking your wrist faster a little faster. "Why?" You lapped at his tip. "You wanna grip my hair?"

"Badly." He gasped

"Wanna use my throat?"

"Yessss." His eyes were dangerous in the currently dim lights.

"Wanna slap me with your cock?"

"And cum on your face." He finished

You thought for a second before returning to sucking his cock. His body shook and you watched his expression tense up again.

A copious amount of curses fell of his lips and he gasped, cock twitching on your tongue. It was hard not to smile especially when Eren's jaw dropped open to an almost choked grunt.

You decided to stop playing with him at least a little bit. Speeding up your mouth, cheeks hollowing around him. If all of it wasn't enough already his abs contracting and expanding in front of you were doing way too many bad things to your pussy.

His eyes were completely hazy at this point and so intense. He let out a deep sigh, head lolling as he stared down at you with flushed cheeks.

"I'm almost there.."

Your pause was sudden and you practically ripped your remaining clothes tossing them off. You reached out for Eren's chest, thumbs inching over hard skin then up to his shoulders and down his arms. He leaned into you suddenly capturing your lips with unhinged kisses that quickly had you breathless.

Without any further hesitation you lifted yourself up pressing the tip of Eren's cock against your entrance. His breath came out hot against your face and you both let out a deep sigh as you slowly bottomed out.

Your mouth wasn't the only thing he'd managed to stretch and when you dug your nails into his back he kissed your chin. "Does it hurt, Y/N?"

You chuckled a little breathless. "Oh, so you do remember my name."

"How could I forget the name I'm gonna be groaning tonight?"

You carefully brought your fingers down to your clit indulging in the way his cock brushed over your g-spot. You felt Eren's thighs spread and your stomach curled in appreciation when he began to meet your thrusts.

"Shit Eren.."

His bottom lip tucked itself under his teeth and you brought one of your hands up to coax aside the hairs against his forehead. You dropped your hips a little faster sucking in a breath at the sensation coursing through your hips.

His name fell off your lips and his shoulders tensed as you used them for leverage. Eren groaned his breath catching and you pulled him closer swallowing every sound from his lips.

Sweat clouded your forehead, sticking to the little strands of hair on your head. Toes curled and clenched in your black boots. And you bit your tongue trying to control the moans spilling off your lips as they grew in volume.

You felt your thighs quiver and your head fell back. The sounds of yours and Eren's skin slapping along with the mixed sounds of both of your pleasure filling the room.

"Ugghh.. don't squeeze.." Eren begged, mouth hung open, eyes darkened over.

You would've laughed if you weren't close to cumming and you could tell Eren was right there with you.

It shocked you how fast Eren managed to capture your lips again. "I'm soo close.." He mumbled against your kiss swollen lips. "Soo cloosee.. f-fu- I'm cumming.."

You sped up Eren's hips working themselves a little faster. It was hard to hide the loud gasp that slipped from your throat when he came. His eyes squeezing shut, long moan flooding from his lips as he leaned in emptying inside you.

"Mm I'm almost there too.."

"Finish, come on.." He whispered, surprisingly still completely there after his orgasm.

The finger on your clit circled a little faster and you rocked your hips a little more till you shook in his lap. You squealed teeth nearly biting into his shoulder as your hips momentarily twitched. You rode out your orgasm, head back and eyes closed.

Eren groaned, your nails digging into his back. "Ohh fuck Eren.." You sighed, working to catch your breath.

You held onto him for a couple seconds completely still as you caught your breath. Not sure what you were expecting to see when you looked up at Eren again but his eyes were filled with a sort of hunger. And the next thing you knew your back was hitting the floor and he was on top of you.

"I'm starting to think you're not taking the cuffs off cause you're nervous." Eren's hot breath fanned your face. "Don't worry though."

When he leaned in you felt your pulse quicken. Your hands creeping up his back to his hair digging into his scalp. He groaned against your lips, the tip of his cock nudging your entrance. You reached down with a breathless sigh but he yanked himself back before you could touch him.

He allowed himself one more kiss then he was inching backwards, his knees heavy on the cold floor. "I'll be gentle."

The small flick of his tongue against your sex was nervous almost and sweet. Forcing you to beg your hips to stay still. He moved in a little closer, tongue flat over your lips, hole and clit. You hand flashed forward gripping his hair almost too tightly.

The floor was cold but you barely noticed. Your whole focus turning to the heat resurfacing in your stomach. Eren's name fell from your lips over and over as his tongue circled and massaged the bundle of nerves between your lower lips.

The simultaneously heat and cold making your thighs shake uncontrollably. You could feel every curve of his lips, every breath and every noise that exited his throat it all vibrated off your sensitive core.

The texture of his tongue against yours was nothing compared to the fire he was starting between your legs. He pressed forward, lips wrapping around your clit before working his way back down to your hole.

The mix of your juices and his cum all being lapped up, wetting his soft pink lips. You were barely holding your voice back now but you couldn't even pretend you cared when he was roughly pressing his tongue in and out of your still sensitive hole.

You begged. For what you didn't know but you felt that familiar coil unlatching. That same intensity from earlier back with a vengeance. Your pleasure falling off your lips from your hoarse throat.

You felt Eren's smirk and his tongue flicked your oversensitive clit till you were sure you were red in the face. Back arched off the floor followed by a scream you couldn't begin to muffle. When you came it sprayed Eren's face and the floor but you were too busy trying to catch your breath to really take it in.

That is until Eren sat up. His face dripping with your cum. Tongue darting over it with a smirk that made your head spin. With shakey legs you stood quickly grabbing the key that had been lodged in your back pocket.

"You'd better not run from me." You whispered. You made quick work of the cuffs as they were soon clattering to the ground.

Eren's hands came down roughly on your ribs. He shoved his cock in so fast you could barely gasp. "Run from your tight pussy? How stupid do I look to you?"

He didn't hesitate to pull his dick out to its tip quickly ramming it back inside. His hands fastened under both your knees pressing them into the ground as he continued assaulting your pussy.

You could already feel your stomach tensing, his breath hot in your ear. Toes curling at your name rolling off his tongue over and over again almost unheard over your gasps and the slick sound of your skin slapping together.

The way he was sucking at the spot behind your ears and on your neck was definitely going to be unexplainable but it was impossible to think right now. Your nails finding purchase against the back of his neck clawing over smooth skin.

One of his hands came up from your surely bruised thigh to harshly grab at your breast. The action forcing a loud moan from your throat. Giving it a little smack he slammed into your pussy halting for a second before yanking you closer by both legs.

"Where.. do you want my.. cum?" The question threw you and you felt yourself clench around him.

"H-huh.."

You could swear you heard him snicker. His tongue lashed over your eardrum and you nearly flinched. "Tell me.. where you want.... my cum." He continued his voice husky.

You let out a soft cry, head leaning back as his tip rammed your spot full force. His thumb rough where it stroked your clit. You heard him grunt, without looking you knew his eyes were shut tight. His name fell off your lips in a long moan.

He was gripping you so tight that his finger prints were probably etched into your skin.

"M-my ch-chest.." You cried, head completely empty. "Pl-ease.."

Your voice was almost completely lost but Eren was pulling out. His dick being pumped quickly and in only a few seconds ropes of white cum were splattering over your chest. The last of Eren's moans dissolving away into heavy huffs.

Soon enough he was bringing you to another orgasm as his cum slid against your clenching stomach. You head falling back and your hands fisting around nothing as you came.

He let go of your body and you dipped your finger into a bit of his dripping cum bringing it to your mouth as he watched. The way he sucked in his breath was cute and you teasingly wiggled your hips.

"I wanted to see how it tasted." You remarked innocently.

He let out a breathless chuckle indulging you in one quick peck before looking around at the mess you two had made.

"Good luck explaining this, and those tomorrow." He said, gesturing to the already forming red marks on your skin and the smashed chair leg.

"That will be easy." You smiled deviously

"How so?"

"I have my ways."

[wkemeup]

Heal Me, Baby

summary: Bucky Barnes can’t seem to keep away from your med tent no matter how many times you fix him up. // challenge prompt: bed sharing  pairing: 1940s bucky x reader word count: 5k warnings: a very charming bucky 😉 a/n: This was written for @cake-writes​ 1940s challenge! Congrats on the 3.5 milestone!! The title of this fic comes from the song Heal Me by Snow Patrol 

There was blood on the white of your dress; slow and steady seeping into the fabric and staining the cotton blend fibers. Red and as deep and bold as the cross sewn into the chest of your uniform, the blood became part of the design because no matter how many times you scrubbed it clean, more would find its way back to the hip of your skirt, the sleeve of your shoulder, the hem of your apron by morning’s end. Sometimes you wondered why they’d bothered dressing you in white at all. Might as well make it red with the number of wounded soldiers they dragged through your tent; most halfway towards the shiny bright light and others inches away from their last breath.

The chaos was constant, a given, and despite the noise and clutter, it was where you felt most at home. It was better than the lull, the calm before the inevitable storm, where you’d be swarmed with men on stretchers, bleeding out onto the dirt and tossed into overcrowded beds. The steady stream was easier than the rapids, easier than assigning ten men to a single nurse where injuries could be missed, vital tears overlooked.

You were at the end of your shift for the night, dirt on your forehead, sweat damping the carefully curled ringlets at your neck. A file in your hand of the man at the end of the room, thicker than most, and you kept your eyes down as you pushed your way through the crowd of nurses and visiting soldiers, heels sinking slightly into the grass with every step.

When you came upon him, you finally noticed the name etched into the top right corner of the folder; the cheesy grin as he propped himself up on his elbows, blood and dirt coating most of his face, though still as annoying handsome as ever.

“Hiya, doll.”

“Oh, not you again.”

Bucky chuckled to himself as he plopped back down against the pillow, hands clasping behind his neck as he watched you work around his bedside. You huffed the hairs from your eyes, brushed the sweat from your hands as you slipped on a pair of gloves, careful to avoid the urge to smile at the way Bucky was so obviously studying your every move.

You’d seen him about a dozen times since you’d been transferred to the Italian warfront along with the 107th. He’d found a habit of stumbling into the medical tent after a night in the trenches, covered head to toe in what looked to be a dried mixture of mud and blood that didn’t always turn out to be his own. 

He’d flash that smile of his like he couldn’t smell the retch of sweat and grim on his skin, sweet talk you like he wasn’t thrown head first to the middle of a war he didn’t sign up for, and get your stomach twisted all up in knots, hands fumbling with the IV bag, a nervous flutter in your chest – though you’d never let him see that.

Sergeant Bucky Barnes was the kind of man the nurses talked about when he walked by. A tip of his cap, a slight salute in their direction, and they’d giggle themselves into a mess, clinging onto one another as they waved at him. 

But then, across the courtyard, his eyes would catch yours, a softer tone about him and he’d simply wink, something subtle and barely noticeable, but enough for it to be personal, almost intimate, because it wasn’t for others to see.

“Not happy to see me, huh?” Bucky drawled, crossing his ankles as he stretched back on the worn-down cot like he was sitting at home on the couch, waiting on a beer as he read the evening paper.

You pursed your lips, shooting him a narrowed look as you glanced over the intake file. “I’m never happy to see men in this tent, Sergeant Barnes. Did you forget where you are?”

You gestured down to the series of beds filled with men, some waiting as they hung off the edge of crutches or slumped over in chairs, with bandages wrapped around exposed chests, blood seeping through, broken limbs exposed, the quiet whimpers of pain muffled by forearms and pillows.

“Oh, come on, doll. You know I’m just teasing ya,” Bucky smirked, sitting up in the bed because he knew the routine well enough by this point. 

You held a single finger pointed up in front of his eyes and he followed it without instruction as you moved it across his line of sight. No sign of abnormal dilation. Ruled out a concussion, at least.  

“You should be more careful out there,” you warned, gathering the first aid kit from the bedside table. “You’re in here almost every day, you know.”

“Maybe I like the company,” he shrugged, blue eyes piercing straight through you and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a full beat.

Your hands trembled slightly as you cleaned the wound on his forehead, a hit from a fall by the looks of it, though it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. He winced a little, a slight hiss in his tongue as you applied the alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be taking the bed from someone who needs it.”

“Hell, I do need it, doll,” Bucky whined, a little dramatically. “Look at me. I’m in pieces. I’m fallin’ apart at the seams and you’re the only one that can save me, sweetheart. I need ya.”

You paused with a tight pout of your lips, sitting back on the cot beside him long enough to roll your eyes. “You need a band-aid and stern warning, Sergeant Barnes. You’re fine.”

“Oh, call me Bucky, won’t you?”

You pressed the bandage to his forehead, a little firmer that you would have for most any other patient and he grunted under his breath, trying to steady himself against the thin mattress.

“Time for you to go, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky grinned, nodding to himself as he stood. “Been a pleasure, doll, as always. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You better not!” you called back, arms folded over your chest as he snickered to himself, walking through the mess of chaos to the exit on the other end. He glanced back over his shoulder as he pulled up a flap of canvas and winked at you.

You clenched your jaw and got back to work.

***

Sure enough as the tides rolled in, so did Bucky Barnes to your med tent a few nights later.

You found him waiting for you on the last bed in the aisle, one leg tucked under him, the other hung over the side of the cot as he nursed his right hand in his lap. He was humming to himself through pursed lips, a tune that you recognized from the radio station your father often played back home; head bouncing a bit to the rhythm, massaging gently at the palm of his hand, completely unfazed by the chaos around him.

Stepping up to the edge of the bed, you supposed he caught sight of your shoes because he started to smile before he so much as lifted his head.

Slowly, like he was taking his time, he glanced up at you with that sheepish smile of his, a light chuckle under his breath, and he ran his left hand through the mess of hair atop his head.

“Hiya, doll.”

“What is it this time?”

Your arms were folded, toe tapping against the ground, but there was something in the way he couldn’t stop smiling at you, even as you scolded him, that tugged a bit on the tight strains in your chest. It pushed at the walls you’d built, poked at the cement layers between bricks until they started to fall one by one and you fought against the urge to smile back at him.

He was too sweet on you, too handsome and charming, and you were almost certain it was an act, so you clenched your jaw and forced a frown.

Bucky held up his hand and for you, showing off a rather nasty burn in the underside of his palm, just along his thumb; red and seared, bubbling a bit on the edges. Your resolve took a bit of a hit because he winced a little in the motion, like the chill of the air was enough to cause him pain.

“How did you manage to do that?” you asked, tone still a little tense, though you took a seat on the side of his mattress, the lumps of the worn-down cot pressing against your thighs.

You reached for the medical cart near the bedside table, though it was just an inch from reach, and Bucky took the liberty of wheeling it over for you. You paused, watching him as he casually slid the cart in front of you, careful of your shoes and the dips in the ground.

“It was my shift in the kitchens,” he shrugged.

His hand slipped into yours as you gestured for it; rough and calloused though still untouched in places, soft and tender. You wondered what he did before he was drafted, if he worked in factories or in a garage, if his hands had seen hard labor before he was handled a weapon and a battalion, or if they were a blank page, yet to be filled by the scars and abrasive markings of a man at war.

You turned it over gently, easing the back of his hand to sit cradled in your palm as you examined the burn. It looked like he’d singed it on the side of the stove. The ring of the plate visible on the edge of his palm.

“Didn’t think you were required take shifts in the kitchens, Sergeant,” you commented, raising an eyebrow, though you kept your focus on his hand.

“Helps with morale,” Bucky replied simply. “Doing the same grunt work together does something for when we’re out in the trenches, you know? I’m not any better than them because the higher-ups threw some title in front of my name. We’re all stuck here, aren’t we?”

There was a chuckle in his voice, a lightness, and it surprised you as you looked up to see that it didn’t quite touch his eyes. How often did that happen and you didn’t notice because you were so caught up in holding up walls to keep from his games? How often had it not been a game at all and rather a mask he wore, to protect the most vulnerable parts of himself from giving into the horrors he saw on the front lines?

He took a deep breath, focused on the grip of your hand around his as you slowly started to apply aloe along the burn. Cautious eyes glancing up to him, you watched as his shoulders slumped a little, a weight lifting from the tension he carried as the cooling of the gel started to take effect. The hardened lines on his face softened, his breaths coming in a bit steadier, the sigh that left his lips light and sweet.

“I’m sure they appreciate what you do for them,” you said, softer this time, in hopes of distracting yourself from the way his lips parted ever so slightly in relief the longer you soothed the gel along his hand.

“Eh, keeps me busy,” he said, brushing it off, almost like the praise was uncomfortable for him, like it didn’t feel warranted or necessary. He smiled to himself, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as you started to wrap his hand, gentle touches delicately easing the bandage around the burn. “Brought me back to you, didn’t it? I call that a win.”

You laughed a bit at that despite yourself as you clipped the edges of the bandages and secured it properly. “I’m sure you would have found an excuse to come bother me all on your own, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he reminded you again, grinning so wide it must have hurt.

“I don’t want to see you in this tent for at least a week,” you warned, placing his hand back into his own lap. You stood, brushing the wrinkles from the edges of your dress. Though you were stern with him, you were smiling. He certainly took notice of it.

“That’s a lot to ask of me, sweetheart. I’m a clumsy guy.”

“You’re the best sharpshooter we have!”

“I’m a mess, honey. Look at me! You’re my only hope.”

“Oh, get out of here!” you laughed, pushing on his shoulders though you were met with significant resistance; a playful game of cat and mouse, and damn if you weren’t completely falling for it.

He finally gave in when your laughter started to draw the attention of the nurses gathered around the bedsides of injured soldiers, and you swatted him on the shoulder, heat flushing to your cheeks in embarrassment, though you were unsuccessfully biting back a smile.

As he made his way to the exit, he turned back for a final look, surprised to find you still watching him, and he winked; cool and collected, confident. You shook your head at him, arms folded over your chest, but he saw the way the corners of your lips pushed up high into your cheeks, the brightness in your eyes, the whisper of a laugh still in your breath.

If this was all a game, he was certainly winning.

***

A few weeks later and the nurses had resorted to reserving a spot for Bucky in the back of the tent; the same cot in your assigned row because he all out refused to be seen by anyone else. He’d duck through the canvas flaps at the entrance, smile politely at the nurses and wait patiently for you to notice him.

His injuries varied anywhere from a paper cut along his palm to a splitting headache to simple heartburn. He knew better than to take your attention away from soldiers who really needed it, but he’d come to consume the moments in between, whether you liked it or not.

But a funny thing started to happen.

You started to look forward to the days when he’d peep his head into the tent, checking to make sure you were on shift before he’d saunter his way inside and take his seat on his favorite cot. You’d find disappointment burning like jealousy in your chest on the days he didn’t, and your mind would wonder where he was or if he was alright.

He’d once waited hours before you were able to step away from the gunshot wounds of a soldier two beds down and though the scrape on his knee had all but scabbed over by then, he stuck around until the kid stabilized. 

You were exhausted by the time you made it over to Bucky, losing hope that you’d be able to keep the injured soldier alive through the night and trying to mask the utter helplessness you felt.

But Bucky made his light-hearted jokes, he teased you for the dirt on your forehead, whined and complained dramatically about his knee though you both knew he’d sleep it off my morning, and it brought back a smile to your face before you realized it. He managed to push through even the darkest parts of your days.  

***

Bucky’s regiment was out on assignment for over a week and you would have been lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss him. You found yourself glancing down at the entrance every few minutes, feeling like something was missing when you finished your checklist, stabilized your patients, and finally had a free moment for yourself. There was something else you would have been attending to.

It wasn’t until you realized it was Bucky you were searching for, waiting to see his smile light up at he caught your eye, that it hit you just how easily you’d fallen for him.

At the end of a very long week, he stumbled into the med tent on a rolled ankle, leaning off the shoulder of Captain America himself, complaining of a pain in his left arm. You were relieved to see him, like a weight lifted from your chest that was holding you underwater for days, but you couldn’t let him see that.

“Been a while, honey,” he smirked. “Miss me?”

“Watch yourself, Barnes,” you warned, though it was light and airy. You eased his arm over your shoulders and excused Steve as he was still supporting his weight. You tried not to focus on how nice it felt to have Bucky this close, his arm draped over your shoulders, his side pressed up tight to yours as he hobbled in support of his injured ankle.

“Got real lonely out there on the front without you,” Bucky teased as you helped him down to the cot. “Stevie had to fix me up. Wasn’t pretty.”

“I can see that,” you laughed, gesturing to the mess of bandages circling around his arm. “What did you do? Bump into the corner of the tank?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckled awkwardly, pulling his arm from what remained of his sleeve to give you better coverage. He curled his shirt up in his hands, shivering as the cold touched exposed skin and you tried to ignore the taunt lines of his muscles and the placement of freckles down his back, the shadows over his abdomen.

Slowly, you pulled back the bandages, wrapped about a dozen times over, until red started to appear in the white of the cloth, soaking through the layers thicker and darker until you found the source. Your smile had long fallen by the time you saw the wound on his arm, a bullet grazing on the outer stretch of muscle; ripped and raw on the edges, a piece of your heart torn along with it.

“You were shot?”

“Oh, come on, doll, it ain’t so bad,” Bucky chuckled. “It’s just a little graze.”

You shook your head, quickly tending to the open wound with alcohol swipes that left him hissing from the sting of it. Your hands were shaking slightly, but you held your breath in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

“Why is it that you feel the need to come in here with senseless injuries and waste my time but when you're actually hurt, you brush it off like it’s nothing?” 

You weren’t angry despite the tone of your voice. No, it was fear that took over, marred through the tension of your words and the frantic thumping inside your chest. The idea of him never walking into your tent again ripped the heart straight from you. 

“We’re at war, honey,” Bucky replied gently and though he still wore that beautiful smile on his face, it was softer. “This kind of stuff happens all the time.”

“Not to you,” you whispered, voice low and heavy.

Your fingers were trembling as you attempted to thread the needle for the third time, though it was no use. It kept missing the eye, your hand was shaking too much for a steady grip. You couldn’t protect him when he was out in the trenches, couldn’t heal his wounds and tend to his injuries. You couldn’t save him if something happened out there, leaving him stranded. 

A few inches to the right and the bullet could have torn through a major artery and maybe Steve Rogers would have showed up in your tent with his helmet held at his chest and a solemn look in his eye when he told you that Bucky fought valiantly until his last breath.

The thread missed the needle again and you let out a groan, a wave of frustration and anger and fear and suddenly Bucky’s hands were on yours, slowly lowering them back to your lap. He smiled sweetly at you as he gently took the needle and thread from your hands and slipped it through the eye. He knotted it at the end and handed it back to you, adjusting his position on the cot to give you better leverage.

“I should get someone else to do this,” you said quietly.

“No deal, honey. You’re the only one for me.”

“Bucky, my hands are shaking. I should ask one of the girls to--”

“It’s you or I walk.” 

Bucky smirked, winking at you over his shoulder before he settled in again. Determined and stubborn as you’d ever seen him. 

You sighed, pushing out a deep breath as you steadied your hand. “Okay, well, no complaining if you end up with a scar.”

“Me? Never.”

***

Bucky wasn’t the only soldier in the tent that night and you were worn thin; running on startling lack of caffeine and frequent cold bursts of air outside, you hadn’t slept in nearly two days as you attended to the influx of injured men.

Half of your girls were out sick from the bug that was floating around camp, though you were almost certain it wasn’t airborne as they insisted and they’d contracted it by getting cozy with the soldiers. You couldn’t blame them for seeking comfort amongst the harsh conditions of the war, but being down two girls in an overcrowded, busy tent full of men in terrible pain wasn’t easy to manage on your own.

Bucky’s presence seemed to help, though. He’d smile at you whenever you looked in his direction and you started to wonder if he was watching you as you worked, as opposed to the book in his lap. He always seemed to be looking at you when you turned over your shoulder to check in on him, anyway. The pages of the book sitting in his hand remained unturned for too long, even as he fought against the heaviness of his lids, sleeping threatening to pull him under though he resisted.

He gave in after you’d swiped the book from his hands and ordered him to close his eyes.

“Anything for you, doll,” he said, yawning through every syllable.

You watched as he settled into the sheets, bare chest exposed and the heavy bandage wrapped around his arm. His eyes fluttered shut, nose scrunching as he sniffled in a tight breath, and his whole body seemed to relax, finding sleep rather quickly.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the med tent quieted down.

Most of the men were asleep, the others too doped up on pain medications to notice much of anything going on around them, their eyes softly gazing out ahead of them, heavy eyelids falling shut. You let the remaining girls go back to their own tents until dawn, given that the worst of it all had subsided.

With a tired yawn, you dragged your feet down to Bucky’s bed. He was snoring softly in his sleep, lips parted just slightly, and you realized gazing down at him, that he looked years younger like this; the innocence he often masked amongst the perils of war rising fresh to the surface, unobstructed.

With a cautious hand, you reached out and grazed your fingertips along his arm; his whole body sighing in response, a slight curve of his lips, his head lulling to the side closest to the touch.

But you couldn’t stand there and watch him sleep all night. The bandage had started to bleed through and it needed a rewrapping.

You pulled up a chair next to his cot, carefully beginning to unwrap the cloth from around the tight muscle of his arm. Smooth skin under pebbled goosebumps from the chill outside, you gently released the bandage to the mattress. The wound didn’t look so bad underneath, but you cleaned it up a bit to be safe. With a quick dab to his arm with the disinfectant, you glanced up at his face in search of a hitch in his breath or a hiss on his tongue, but he remained fast asleep.

Even men like Bucky Barnes needed a break. He looked so sweet sleeping like that, the slight pout on his lips as you cleaned the wound, the sniffle through the beginnings of a head cold. 

You yawned, struggling to keep your eyes open and quickly rebandaged his arm. There were more men in this tent that needed your attention.

A few beds down and an hour later, you began to switch out the IV drip of a man with a severed leg; a young, baby faced kid who didn’t look old enough to graduate school, let alone be given a gun in the middle of wartime. He scrunched his nose in his sleep, his thigh twitching like he might still think something was there. There was sweat beading on his face, dripping damp into the pillow. You didn’t know how much longer he had.

Your legs wobbled slightly under you and you gripped onto the bedside table. The exhaustion was starting to reel you in, pull you under to the warm embrace of sleep, but you had a job to do, men to care for. Pressing the heel of your palms to your eyes, you tried to push the tiredness from you, though a yawn broke through again anyway.

“Looking like you might need some rest, doll.”

You froze at the sound of his voice, like ice and fire, relief and panic.

A heavy sigh sat in your chest before you turned around, only to find Bucky brushing at his eyes, sleepily smiling up at you from his cot. He propped himself him on his elbows, as you quickly made yourself busy, simply watching as you continued about your work.

“Someone has to attend to these men, Bucky,” you replied, a little tenser than you usually were with him, but the exhaustion had taken hold of you and it took effort just to keep your eyes open.

“Doll,” he called, softer this time, “you’re going to pass out. Where'd everyone go?”

“Sent them off. No need for a crowd to watch over sleeping men.” You checked the vitals of a man across the aisle from Bucky; steady rhythm, even pulse. He’d make it until morning, at least.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked slowly and you could feel his eyes following you around the tent, watching intently as you tended to each of the men, assuring yourself that they were as restful as they appeared. There was a concern in his voice, a sincerity, and it tensed in your shoulders.

You released a heavy breath, keeping focused on replenishing the infusion bag of a soldier who was hanging on by a thread. One quick glance back at Bucky proved to be a mistake as he was still watching you, though it was under kind, worried eyes. He was still waiting on an answer.

“You don’t need to be worrying about how much I’m sleeping,” you said, turning your back to him because your eyes were falling heavy and it was near impossible to keep them open. You leaned onto the frame of another soldier’s bed for support, pretending to be busy for Bucky’s sake.

“No?” Bucky questioned with an embellished sigh. “Someone has to, don't you think?”

“Bucky, I’m fine,” you yawned, covering your mouth with your wrist as you turned back to face him. 

He chuckled a bit under his breath, chin falling to his chest, before he smiled up at you like you’d missed out on some kind of inside joke.

“Oh, ‘course you are, doll. Must have been someone else who put the same bloody bandage back on my arm after cleaning it then, huh?” he shrugged teasingly, gesturing to his arm where a dark red bandage circled around his bicep.

Your eyes blew wide, a gasp in your throat and you rushed over to him. Hands fumbling for the chair, missing several times and resorting to falling at your knees, you made quick work of trying to peel away the red bindings.

“Shit! Shit, I’m-- shit,” you panted, shaking, “that’s never happened before and I—oh God, I’m so sorry, Bucky—I’ll fix it, just—just give me a second and—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, honey,” Bucky cooed sweetly, helping to unfasten the bandage because your hands were fumbling too long with the clasps. His right hand encased your shaking fingers, holding them tightly long enough to pull your attention away from his arm. “It happens, okay? No harm done. I’m aces, alright?”

“No, no, it’s wildly...” you sucked in a sharp breath, tingling in the back of your jaw, stretching at your cheeks, “...unacceptable and I...” another yawn broke through, “...should report myself because...” and a third.

“Jesus, doll, listen to you. You’re exhausted,” Bucky eased, reaching for the clean bandages on the bedside table. He grabbed a fresh one and put one end between his teeth for leverage as he began to wrap his own arm.

You sat back on your heels, kneeling next to his bed and certainly getting dirt along the end of your dress. You watched as he wove the clean cloth in and around his arm, concentration etched into his facial features to mask the slight wince of pain as the fabric touched the wound.

Guilt was fresh in your chest as Bucky wrapped his arm himself, pulled it tight and gestured for you to fasten it. He could have done it himself, you were sure. There was a smile on his face as he looked at you, like he was trying to make you feel better.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. It won’t happen again,” you mumbled, defeated and you rose to your feet, beginning to walk away.

“Wait, honey, don’t go--”

You froze, surprised by a sudden grip at your hand before you could take a step away from his bedside, and when your eyes shot back to his, he let go immediately, his cheeks flushing red as he began to laugh nervously. It was a kind of embarrassment you never expected to see in him.

“You don’t gotta apologize to me, doll,” he started, scratching at the back of his head.

“I can’t afford to make mistakes,” you retorted, voice a little more somber. “You can’t afford it either.”

“Then, make it up to me.”

You narrowed your eyes, fighting off the urge to yawn again. “What would you have me do?”

“Get some rest?” he asked sheepishly, scooting to the far edge of the tiny, twin size cot. He took up most of the space himself and you swore you may have seen him swallow nervously as he pulled down the covers, gesturing to the open space.

“No, I... I can’t,” you said flatly, though your heart was racing.

“You’re going to pass out where you stand and you said yourself you can’t afford to make more mistakes,” he argued gently. “Just a few hours. Then you’ll be good as new. No more dirty bandages.”

“Bucky, I...” you shook your head, stepping back and folding your arms over your chest. “I-- I have to look after these men. I can’t fall asleep. What if something happens?”

“I’ll wake you up,” he responded with a shrug. “I got my hours in. Anyone starts throwing a coughing fit, monitors start going haywire, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

“People will talk,” you whispered, excuses lined up but Bucky didn’t let them break his smile for even a moment.

“No one's around, sweetheart.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“So is half my guys sleeping with your girls and yet...”

You laughed a bit at that, chewing on the edge of your lip, the rouge long faded of color. A heavy silence passed, a slight sway in your stance as your body fought tirelessly against the urge to close your eyes. Glancing down the rows of cots, it seemed quiet. Not a peep for hours and everyone was stable.

You turned back to Bucky. He was waiting patiently.

“You’ll wake me?”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to smile wider, but – God – it was blinding.

“Cross my heart.”

Stepping out of your shoes, you slowly made your way to the edge of his bed. You stared down at the open space and the slim line of mattress available to you. You must have taken too long because he started shifted a bit more to the edge, to the point where he was nearly falling off.

“Promise I’ll be a complete gentleman,” he chuckled lightly, cheeks pink and rosy. It was damn near impossible to say no to him when he looked at you like that, with a sincerity you hadn’t known since you left the States, draped under ocean blue.

“One hour,” you warned him as you slowly lowered yourself into the cot beside him. It squeaked as you let your weight fall to its uneven springs, the lumps evident against your back, the frame prominent through the thin cushion.

“One hour,” he agreed, giving you space as you rested your head against the pillow if you wanted it, though you heard his breath hitch as you tugged his arm down a little to lean against his shoulder, his right arm curling around your back to keep you steady on the bed.

Laying on your side, curled up next to him, you rested your left arm against his chest, tracing your fingers along the exposed lines of his stomach, the dip at his sternum, the scars littering smooth stretches of beautifully tanned skin. He shivered under your touch, his breath slightly uneven, though he didn’t say anything. His hold on you tightened as he suppressed a gasp under the bite of his teeth, like a reflex, pulling you tighter as his toes curled and his spine lightened.

“This okay?” you asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper and you watched as your breath touched his chest, goosebumps in its wake.

“Perfect, honey,” Bucky replied sweetly, his fingers drawing patterns along your back, tracing along the zipper of your dress and the seams in the shoulders. “Close your eyes, will you?”

A sleep heavy laugh pulled up at your cheeks, resting on his chest, as you let your hand fall flat against his stomach. You nodded, curling up as close against him as you could manage, losing yourself in the gentle waves of his touch along your spine.

“Thank you,” you whispered as your eyes began fluttering shut. You could hear the pulse of his heart beating gently under your ear, the steady rhythm lulling you a warm embrace. The slip of consciousness tugging you kindly to the ease of temporary darkness.

There was a slight touch on your forehead, something warm and sweet, lingering as your breaths became longer, steadier, drawn out and even; the heat of breath to your skin, the slight hum of a content sigh. A kiss as gentle and kind and tender as the man behind it.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[brendaaaa]

Lab Partners (Steve Harrington x fem!Reader)

“And the last pair will be…Steve Harrington and Y/n L/n.”

You bit your lip and turned to look at the king of Hawkins high. He wasn’t looking back at you, or even paying attention to anything the teacher was saying, but was whispering with his friend Tommy H instead. You watched him chuckle at what was probably some stupid remark his friend said, and your eyes intently focused in on him running his hand through his expertly teased hair, messing it up.

You closed your mouth, realizing that it had fallen slightly open whilst watching him. You coughed, and made eye contact with your friend Kelly. She was looking at you with wide eyes, and a bit of a smirk on her face.

Of course. Of course with your worst luck you would end up with Harrington. The boy was an asshole. And that was that. But you thought, rather bitterly, that didn’t change the fact that you were totally in love with him. Yep. Go ahead and shoot y/n. You were smitten with the hottest possible douchebag of the whole damn town of Hawkins.

You had never even really talked to him. Maybe he had brushed past your shoulder once in the hallways back in middle school, or perhaps you’d maybe randomly made eye contact with him once across the cafeteria on a rainy day where you weren’t sitting outside on the baseball fields like usual.

Anyways, logically speaking, there was no real reason for you to like him. Other than for his looks of course, which was somewhat shallow reasoning. And this was a fact that you absolutely hated. You cringed knowing that this boy could make your eyes drop to the floor in an instant, face blushing red, trying to look at anyone, anywhere but him, and there wasn’t a single thing about his actual personality, or what you knew about him, that you even remotely liked.

So that is precisely why your stomach was a flip flop of fluttery and unwelcome emotions when your chem teacher assigned you and Steve Harrington as lab partners for the final project of sophomore year.

The devil on your shoulder was delighted, thrilled even to be paired with the basketball team hottie, but your true consciousness fought back, protesting and feeling guilty that you were only drooling over him because of how cute he was. And besides, you didn’t want to have to deal with his jerkish attitude. Oh dear lord you were going to have to invite him over to your house. You didn’t want him to be in your bedroom! Your personal space! But that nagging subconscious was telling you, ‘yes y/n yes, this is the break you’ve finally been waiting for. All this time and Steve will finally be all yours, all yours. You can seduce him, charm him, he’ll be yours, all yours!’

You grappled under your desk for your water bottle. You seriously needed some ice cold water to keep you regulated, keep those unwanted thoughts out.

There weren’t many good sides to getting the hair as your partner.

If the rumors were true, Harrington had never gotten an A in any class, like ever. So surely he would be a drag to have around this project, full of dumb comments and contributing nothing, no real substantial work towards getting a grade.

You swished down some more water. Life would be so much easier if your teacher would just let you be partners with Kelly. She was a real one, your best friend since forever really. She could sort of empathize with how you were feeling, since apparently she had a thing for a guy ‘just like Steve, only worse’ when she was in California last summer. That made you feel better. You two could vent together about how hard it was liking such hot assholes.

You decided to be bold. You raised your hand. Kelly shot you a look. She was watching you like you were about to tell your mom that you had snuck out the night before. Social suicide. Looking at you like you were crazy, and whatever you were about to do was unpredictable as hell.

Which was probably true.

“Yes, Miss L/n?” The teacher pointed his ruler at you, giving you permission to speak.

“May I choose another partner?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped open, and she looked from you to Steve, back to you, up to the teacher. Although everyone else in the class was bored out of their gourds, Kelly knew you like she knew her own self, maybe even better, and she was living for this shit show of emotions you were displaying.

“Umm…” the teacher fiddled with the pen hanging out of his breast pocket with one hand, while his other finger slid down a clipboard, looking for where your name was listed.

“Ah, yes with Mr. Harrington,” he mumbled to himself, before looking back up at you quizzically.

“Is there any issue with your current pairing? Something wrong with Mr. Harrington?”

At this Steve finally took notice, frowning slightly as his eyes flicked over to you.

You sat still for a moment, trying to format the best way to word what you were about to say.

“Uh, kind of.” Everyone gawked. Did you really just testify to the fact that there was something wrong with Steve, king of the school??

“I mean no,” you quickly added, covering up your mistake, although by now Steve was amused while watching, enjoying watching you, some random girl he didn’t even know, get so flustered over the topic of him.

“What I mean to say is…” you watched Steve out of the corner of your eye. “My mom won’t allow me to have any boys over. Ever,” you fibbed. Ay, what was the harm in a little white lie, anyways?

“So obviously Steve is a male,” you said with a smirk, the class nervously laughed as you said that. Immature hormonal kids. Kelly mentally face palmed at some of the implications that statement alone made.

“And my mom would never allow him in the house. So uh, how would we ever get the project done? I need a female partner,” you explained to your teacher.

He nodded, a firm line pressed across his lips, slightly frustrated at the inconvenience of hafting to switch up partners this late into the planning of this project.

“Wait, hold on a sec.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Oh no, no. You were so close! So close to convincing the teacher to put you with someone else!

Steve was sitting up straighter in his seat now, a hand up, “hold on a sec,” he repeated.

“I don’t see why…” hey looked at you. “Um..name?” He asked, brow furrowed slightly.

You flushed bright red, wanting to roll your eyes at how embarrassed you were getting. You weren’t a shy person by any means, but having this whole exchange in front of the entire class wouldn’t have been fun for even the widest open book.

“Y/n,” Kelly spoke up for you, seeing as you were not going to supply your name on your own.

Steve snapped his fingers, “Y/n! Thank you…” he trailed off, seeming still mostly unfazed as he realized he didn’t know Kelly’s name either.

“I don’t see why nobody else can see that there is an obvious and simple solution to this. If y/n’s mom won’t let me come over, then that's fine. Y/n can just come over to my place instead!”

Now why, why in gods name would he say that? You thought to yourself. It was almost like he knew that he drove you mad, and he was just enjoying teasing you, stringing you along, while the whole time knowing that you were no match for him. Or was it actually the other way around? I mean, why were you so worried over him anyways? If anything you were the desirable one. Sure, you weren’t popular, but Steve was a jerk.

It didn’t matter. Either way you were a sucker for him, and he seemed to be abusing that knowledge. Knowledge? Now where the hell did that come from? Seriously, how had Steve even figured out you liked him? Did he even know? Or was he really just so lame that...ugh fuck. You felt like your brain was about to short circuit, finally blow out after running on high, when

“Ms. L/n? Would that work for you? Doing the project both here at school and also at Mr. Harrington’s house?”

You looked at Steve. He smirked. He knew you liked him, he knew, that bastard-

You looked at Kelly. She raised an eyebrow, basically giving her approval and saying, why not amigo?

You sighed, “Alright.”

Your teacher smiled, “Peachy.”

You turned to look at Steve one more time, and to your dismay and stomach butterfly syndrome, he was watching your carefully. He was fiddling with his pencil absentmindedly, but he was smiling. No, not smiling. Smirking.

You turned back around in your seat, slightly shivering. Oh god were you excited to go to his house. You corrected yourself, no actually, how much you were dreading going to his house. You finally just gulped down some more ice water, rolling your eyes at yourself, and decided that it was okay to be feeling two things at once. It was okay to view your crush on Harrington as both a joy and a crime. Your chances of getting him as your lab partner both a blessing and a curse. Who knows? Maybe Harrington was a bit of a multi-sided di himself. Prickly on the outside, sweet on the inside. You took another sip of water, laughing at yourself inside, Harrington? Sweet? What wishful thinking. If only, you thought.

If only there was some world where Steve was a nice guy, maybe worked at an ice cream shop, or was a pizza delivery guy, and maybe he’d babysit kids or whatever. If only. In the meantime, you had the douche bag to deal with. Word Count: 1668

[thgreatestblue]

seven

➜ pairing: genya shinazugawa x gn!reader ➜ warnings: fluff, manga spoilers ➜ words: 2.1k ➜ a/n: i was listening to seven while writing this, and guess who’s birthday is today, january 7th? that’s right, genya’s! tell me if this wasn't meant to be. happy birthday to my boy who definitely deserved better! ➜ ao3

summary: You run your thumb over his hand, feeling the rough texture of calluses, small cuts and bumps. If that meant sticking with him even if death was at your door; so be it.

I.

“Ouch!”

“Stop moving or I'll never get it clean, Y/N.”

Genya gently rubs the damp cloth on your left eye, the clean water enters your open wound like a knife and you have to hold yourself still to not flinch again. Now that the adrenaline had unfortunately left your body, you felt like trash. Pain takes over your body as you clench your fists over your thighs; the cloth rubbing on your skin is like rubbing salt on an open wound. It was still a miracle that the cut didn't need stitches — you hate feeling pain, so you were more than fine having to bandage it instead.

Sanemi’s punch managed to make a really ugly damage on your left eye, and even though you haven't take a look at it, you knew it was an awful shade of purple and very swollen — and by the way Genya glanced at the injury every time the cloth came out red, you didn't want to see the bruise just yet.

It stings really bad, but you could endure the pain if it meant having Genya taking care of you with such tender touch. Even though your face was going to be a mess for the next couple of days, at least you had the attention of the boy who was always so timid around you. It was rare the times he really talked to you, however, you enjoyed his presence nonetheless. You close your eyes as the cloth wipes the last spot of blood.

“As if Tanjirou getting involved wasn't enough…” Genya sighs, putting the cloth aside. He holds your face in the light, taking another look at the cut, a shade of pink coloring his cheeks as he continues to speak, “Honestly, Y/N, why did you get involved?”

His fingers are rough, but his touch carries kindness and tender care, tracing a path from your eyebrow along your cheek. It’s enough for you to forget the pain; and with that, all of your surroundings as well, because his face is so close that you can see the texture of his scar, his dark eyes with hints of purple depending on how the light hits his iris. If he noticed the way your eyes traveled around his face — absorbing every little detail — he didn't comment on it.

However, Genya’s face wasn't the best either. Not because of any injury, though. If rejection was a physical wound, then he would've been totally wrecked  — and you didn't like that look on his face, at all. It twisted something in your stomach that would make you want to punch the Wind Pillar until he accepted his brother back. Or, would make you want to just wrap your arms around him in a tight hug — two contrasting states of mind that often thinking which one was most likely to happen.

The worst part was that you wished you were there from the beginning, so you could say one thing or two to the Wind Pillar. Instead, you arrived a little bit too late, being able only to shield one of his punches that were meant to Tanjirou. You can’t even remember the chaos that followed after, only that there were too many hands and feet. Tanjirou was still receiving a long scolding from the higher-ups, and you highly suspect you and Genya were going to be receiving one as well.

“Well maybe if your brother wasn't such an asshole, then we wouldn't feel the need to get involved in the first place!” You shout frustrated, “Ouch!”

Genya’s finger hovered over the cut, slightly pinching the skin a bit rougher than it was necessary. You shoot him an accusatory glance, but he doesn't look guilty. You grunt at his boldness; sometimes he would act as the shyest person you’ve met, but would act totally different when it came to his brother; always protecting his name and honor.

He picks the adhesive tape and starts to cut in small portions, concentrating on his task to cover the cut on your face. You watch his skilled hands arranging the gauze; probably used to take care of others because of his brothers and sisters. Used to take care of himself, since he grew up quite alone.

It pains you to remember that Sanemi was the only one left in Genya's life. And as much as you would tell yourself that you didn't understand his actions towards his older brother, the truth was that you did — you really did. It was his only family left, after all.

“Nemi is just… He is dealing with a lot right now, has always been.” He says, voice weak as the words come out of his mouth. His shoulders are curved and you can practically feel the weight of his guilty bringing him down, “It was my fault since the beginning, and it's still my fault for not being strong enough…”

“I swear Genya, If you start that bullshit again I'm going to stick this cloth down your throat.”

The boy stops his work, fingers still holding the half-finished bandage, there’s pain in his eyes as his lips tremble a little. Your words come out harsher than you intended to, and now you feel like you actually did deserve the punch. All you wanted to say was that he was wrong; that he didn't deserve the treatment he got, that he was enough.

But of course you could never find the right words.

Genya was haunted by his past, by a mistake that was still fresh like the open wound in your face. Even after years, it still hasn't healed — not even a little — and you suspect that everytime he thought about his brother the wound would get bigger and bigger, until he was bleeding all over himself. And no matter what, only Sanemi held the keys to his recovery.

Tanjirou once said that Sanemi didn't hate Genya, it was far from that. And even though it made things slightly better, planting a seed of hope inside his heart, it didn't make it any easier to accept that Genya still got rejected. But if the boy was okay with that, not letting the cold and harsh behavior of his brother get to him, you would have to do the same.

“Look, I know you want to get back to your brother, and i really hope you do but…” You trail off, thinking about how Genya talks about his brother compared to the reality; the contrasting behavior still made your head and heart ache, “I just can’t stand the way he treats you. It’s so mean.”

“Y/N, please don’t talk bad about my brother.” He says with no heat on his voice, going back to his work.

You loundly sigh, rolling your eyes. No one truly knew about the Wind Pillar; no one was close enough, nor anyone ever tried — not that he would have given the chance nonetheless. He was a short-tempered guy with violence running in his veins instead of blood.

You just couldn't understand his reasons, if he didn't hate Genya, then why push him away so harshly? You and Tanjirou once sat down analyzing everything, trying to come up with a solution for this disagreement, but as much as you two thought about it, nothing came up, and eventually you let it go — only Genya and Sanemi could resolve this.

Though, It must be lonely living like that, always angry and ready to snap at everything, not having anyone at your side, not even a friend. Who held him close when the world became too dark to even dream? At some point, your heart not only ached for Genya, but for Sanemi as well.

It remind you of the past; how Genya had the same behavior at the beginning of your relationship. You two used to pick up a lot of fights over silly things, he was so insufferably angry at everything. Himejima once had to intervene in a fight because it was getting out of hand — you, with your eyebrow bleeding, Genya with a deep cut on his lips.

But like the rain, a storm always comes to an end, it never lasts forever. The shore brought you back to him after his fight against the Upper-Moon Four and Five. And as much as you two fought, you still cared about the boy — not knowing exactly what made you feel so drawn to him in the first place.

After receiving the news, you went to see him, against your better judgment. You expected to be received with the same harsh and angry behavior, but to your surprise, he was another person; more mature. Pelling a new skin and showing his true colors, and they were quite beautiful.

The bangade is finished quickly, he fixes the adhesive tape on the edges and motions for you to come closer. You stay still, watching him with only one eye open as he puts the bandage over the wound. It covers your entire eye, but it’s necessary to prevent an infection since you didn't want to get stitches.

“I… care about you, Genya.” You suddenly confess.

Genya’s hands freezes on your face that were still fixing the bandage. He doesn't look you in the eye but his face is a shade redder since the last time you glanced at him. You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your neck and face warm up with the confession. It definitely wasn't the right moment for something like that, however, the words just flew out of your mouth; and you wouldn't take it back. Because they were the bare truth.

The silence eats you away, making your heart beat faster in your chest. You try to read his expression but the only thing you can see is how the redness scalleted to his ears, and now he looked like a tomato and it would have been funny if you weren't in the same state.

“A-And that’s why I’m going to fight your brother as many times as needed if it means you not getting hurt.” You finally say, trying to remedy the situation.

Maybe mentioning that you would hurt his brother — even if it was impossible — would take him out of this flustered state and make him say something? It doesn't work. Genya retreats his hands from your face, holding them on his lap. He looks away, watching the birds flying in the yard as the day passes by. You would appreciate their singing if the beating of your heart wasn't all you could hear.

“That’s what family does...” Genya whispers, still gazing through the window. He looks to be far away from the moment, lost in some memories from the past that you knew so little, but enough to understand his feelings, his actions.

“I can be your family.” You say without thinking.

If Genya was quiet before, now he went totally still. He was still looking away but his flushed face was still very visible under the light coming from the window. It seemed like the filter you always had when talking about emotions suddenly decided to not work anymore — spilling your thoughts out in the open with no type of restrain.

“I mean…” You clean your throat, running a hand through your hair. How many times are you going to embarrass yourself today? Maybe the Wind Pillar did give you a concussion after all, “I will look after you, and you will look after me, just like a family does.”  

It wasn't as if you weren't already doing that; if those years growing up with him under Himejima care taught you something, it was that you cared about him, a little bit too much. It took you long enough to finally come to terms with your feelings — and even though you decided to do it right in front of him, they were still strong as ever. Genya finally shifts his gaze to look at you, a ghost of a smile decorating his lips, and it’s enough to put you out of your misery.

“We’ll stick together,” You confirm, grabbing his hand in a rush and squeezing slightly.

“No matter what?” Genya whispers, squeezing your hand in return, making your stomach flip with the touch.

You run your thumb over his hand, feeling the rough texture of calluses, small cuts and bumps. If that meant sticking with him even if death was at your door; so be it.

“No matter what,” You promise.

“I-I would like that.” Genya smiles, and it’s the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

You move closer without a second thought, placing a hand on his cheek and gently kissing it — his face was so hot you could feel through the sensitive skin of your lips. Then, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his neck. It takes quite a few minutes for him to finally relax, returning the hug.

It takes even longer for you two to separate from the warmth of each other's embrace.

[angelkurenai]

Lucky idiot - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Lucky idiot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Hey sweetheart May I request a DeanxReader Imagine where reader is a mermaid but with a twist?Idk if you know the kids show called 'H2O just add water'But basically reader always turns into a mermaid if she gets into contact with water.And I imagined that reader would rescue dean from drowning after he was pushed off from a cliff by a ghost or sth?Then like thelittle mermaid moment where he sees her face after waking up.Then sam shows up and reader disappears.Then they meet her at a cafe I❤️u

“Look, all I'm saying is if you'd let me drive for this ti-”

“Get back to research, Sammy, I've got enough things on my head. Don't need you to make me more dizzy than I already am.” Dean grumbled before his brother could even get to finish his sentence.

“Which is exactly my point here.” Sam couldn't help but huff “Do you really think it's a good idea to drive while being so dizzy? I mean, for the love of, Dean, you nearly drowned three to four hours ago! Unless you're trying to finish the ghost's job right now, I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, letting me drive would give both of us higher chances of getting out of the car alive.”

“Bold of you to assume that if I let you drive, you'd get out of this car alive.” the older Winchester retorted with a half smile, that didn't feel even half as real though, before focusing as much as he could on the road before him “Besides, I've been more than nearly killed plenty of times and despite the trip to the other side, I was always the one to drive the car. I'm fine, just like every other time, Sammy. Only impatient to get some food. Again nothing new.”

“And that's supposed to calm me down now, or what? Honestly, Dean-” Sam huffed, shaking his head “I can't understand you sometimes. It was pure luck that you even found yourself out of there, alive. I mean, if the fall from that kind of cliff didn't do it then the water would have certainly been it and you know it.”

“But again it wasn't. Neither of the two did it for me as you can see, tough as it might have been. Unless, of course, your ranting is looking to be a serious contestant in that?”

“I assure you, me and my ranting are not trying to bore you to death. It's the last thing I want. But that doesn't mean I am not going to talk about it. Seriously Dean-” another shake of his head that this time earned an eye roll from the older Winchester “You could have drowned so easily and yet somehow you found your way to the shore, which let me point out is absolutely not normal. Not in the kind of situation you were in. Not unless there was some kind of help coming from very deep within that part of the water which is even more disturbing to think about. Maybe in equal measures to you not admitting that you being safe and sound on the shore within minutes from the spot you fell is suspicious. What if the ghost isn't the only supernatural creature here to begin with? What if we have to look more into other beings like...”

Sam kept going. Dean was sure of it. Not because he was listening closely, not because he was paying attention to every word and pondering over it because he had to admit that he hadn't made it out of the water on his own. There was no way he would have made it out alive on his own, that much he knew and could understand just like every other sane human being would easily would. That didn't mean it was because that's what he was currently wondering about. Not when there was little wondering to do about it, no. Both because he didn't have the mind to and also because... well, for the same reason as to why he couldn't listen to his brother at the moment. The images running through his mind.

Yes, he was sure Sam was talking to him but only because of the murmuring he could hear, which sounded more like a distant echo. And it was exactly because of those images which he couldn't shake off, he could never forget, that everything else around him sounded and looked distant and blurry. As if he wasn't part of the scenery, as if he wasn't living in it, but was actually more immersed in another world.

And truth be told, he was in a way. He was too focused in his memories, in the images, in the feelings that were still as vivid as they were a couple hours ago when he really felt them that he was almost reliving the moment. Even if part of that world, part of those feelings and moment were also just as distant and blurry as the present.

Dean was struggling, his entire body was struggling, his lungs were struggling, every cell and every inch of him, struggling to hold onto life. He wanted to hold onto the air in his lungs desperately so but as even more of it left and he couldn't find new one, his actions became more frantic and panicked than his thoughts. The fact that he had not been able to prepare for any of it had not helped to give him a head start of any kind, making it easier and faster for his vision to get blurry and filled with dark spots as the air and therefore fight left his body.

It was only when his mind had started feeling like it didn't care anymore, like there was no reason for fight and like maybe, just maybe, sleep would be a good choice. It wouldn't hurt anymore and he wouldn't have to struggle too hard, even if he really didn't get the chance to wake up ever again. His mind was in such a haze that all reason and will had left, perhaps even his perception of reality too. Because in his haze as he looked up he saw the blur of something that shouldn't have been there not only because he was all alone and sinking but also because it looked like something that shouldn't exist.

Then again, as he thought of it now in the car, he found about the existence of many things that shouldn't exist. Killed plenty of them too.

And yet none like this. It was no surprise that he kept it to himself, that he still wondered if it was all real in the first place. The flash of a shimmering white tail, not one of a shark or a dolphin, a fish could have been accurate if it wasn't for its shape and the colors that it reflected, sparkling under the minimal sun that could reach such depth almost holographic, extending long - almost endless in his eyes at that moment - brushing past his arms and legs, it was all still there in his mind. Vivid and clear as much as it had been that moment, which wasn't to say a lot, but he still could not shake off the feeling of arms wrapping around his body. Real hands, belonging to a human, touched his face. A small shake, he was sure there was that, but not only was his head a mess his eyes were also nearly closed and what sight he had was blurry. It didn't last long, Dean was surprised to even remember it, before a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and it was in that moment he felt the pull only followed seconds later by water moving past him at a speed that is by no means normal, but is certainly enough for Dean to close his eyes shut completely. The dizziness it offered mixing with his already hazy mind, led easily enough to him losing both track and sight of what was happening; and he was fairly sure his consciousness too.

He felt like he was coming in and out of consciousness far too many times for anything to make sense. There was no telling apart reality from hallucination to even dreams.

The feeling of being dragged into the shore was something like a ghost feeling in the back of his mind, arms around his torso dragging him and struggling to pull him out of the sea, sounds of struggling and an effort beyond the person's strength – because obviously the lack of water and presence of drenched clothes that only became heavier this way along with the sticking sand made it all much harder to move. Similar to that was the feeling of a pair of hands, human-like, far too human-like and that somehow set Dean on edge, that pressed on his chest, pushing with all the strength the person could master. And certainly similar to the feeling of hands on his face, the touch much more clear than when he was underwater, though still under a veil of haziness in his minds.

All of those moments, though, despite how blurry they seemed, despite how hard it was for him to figure out if they were real, he knew there was one that he couldn't have dreamed of; that it had to be real. The feeling of lips pressing on his cheek, chaste and feather-like and very hesitant much like the way a forehead rested against his; all shortly after he felt the water pour out of his lips – out of his lungs – like there was no ends. But there was, and in the end he could finally get the precious and much-needed oxygen his body was craving for. He was probably – certainly – still very dizzy and his vision had plenty of black spots but there was no mistaking the sigh of relief he heard, human-like so human-like, and a hand cupping his cheek.

“What could you possibly be doing there you idiot?” the voice was low, sounding very much English and very much human “If only you knew how lucky you were.” a small laugh, and it was probably the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, one he would never forget, he should never forget and he knew he'd hate himself if ever forgot “Lucky idiot. Hm seems fitting, since I can't get a name out of you. Who knows what-”

He could not remember more words being uttered, not from that soft and caring voice. He only remembered someone, someone that sounded a lot like Sam and was most likely him though his dizzy brain couldn't even put that together, call out his name in the far distance before came the sound of hasty rustling and water splashing. It was in those hasty few seconds that he got something he wished he could hold onto forever: His eyes slid open, just slightly so, catching sight of a face, your face.

Admittedly he had felt all air leave his lungs for the second time in that moment, and when your eyes met his and he noticed you pause for a half second, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch you to make sure you were real. Or at least try to, because he didn't have the strength to get more than halfway there. Fact which he regretted later because he couldn't tell if you really had been a fragment of his imagination, what if the face he saw was only in his mind – hard as it would be for him to even dream and therefore make up such a sight.

A sight that combined with the very much mermaid-like, he could only now tell that he was driving and had sobered up, tail vanishing below the surface of the water had been keeping him on edge. Too much for it all to just have been a fragment of his own imagination. Not because it sounded and looked too crazy, nothing could with the kind of life he had, but because he didn't want it to be just him. He wanted it to be real even if he didn't know where he would ever get to see that face, feel those gentle and caring hands that had pulled him to his safety (if he was right about all of it) and hear that compassionate if not clearly teasing voice that revealed a real spark and personality underneath that he could easily adore.

Wait- Adore?

“That's it. That's the caf- Wait- Aren't you gonna stop he- Dean? Dean? Dean!” Sam nearly yelled to get his brother's attention, thankfully making the older Winchester press on the breaks and make the car come to a halt. The younger Winchester could only thank their lucky stars that the road was empty at the moment.

“Huh? Wh-what?” Dean blinked in surprise, as if finally having been brought back to reality.

“Alright, that's it.” Sam huffed stubbornly “We go in there, get something to eat and then you give me the keys and I'm keeping them for the next three days for sure. And I won't hear a single thing from you. We're lucky to be both alive at the moment. Got it?”

He did not leave any room for argument as he stormed out of the car and made his way to the cafe they were originally heading to. Dean, in all honesty, couldn't be more glad for it. It had been anything but silent in his head all this time, he could use a couple seconds of not thinking and not talking to put himself together because at the end of the day he had work to do as well.

Or at least that was what he kept telling himself, repeating the words over and over again like a mantra, to the point he almost believed it. To the point he believed that he had gotten you off his mind, to the point he believed he was getting over everything and to the point that he had convinced himself he was focused on the job and there would be no further distractions. Or at least so he thought until he pushed the cafe's door open and before he could take more than one step inside, felt something – or rather someone – collide with him.

He looked down, lips parted and ready to retort, only for the words to die out in his lips and every though to drown in the sea of disbelief and surprise that took over his entire being. Once more all air had left his lungs and yet the struggle for air had never been as painfully sweet as now.

“Well, look at that...” your voice was soft just like the smile that formed on your lips as your eyes locked with his and Dean still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that you were there, right in front of him; before you added in a low voice “It's the lucky idiot.”

[anika-ann]

State Your Name (for the Record) - S.R.

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert, emotional H/C

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader       Word count: 5560

Summary:  For a man haunted by nightmares, waking up was an ambivalent process.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love. 

In which Steve feels blue, but he can count on his girl to raise his spirits – especially since she can convince his whole team to do something nice for him.

Warnings: implied mission going not so well, angst, crying, self-doubts,  swearing ,fluff and cheesiness of the highest order

Waking up was an everyday process most people considered unpleasant.

For a man haunted by nightmares, either made up by his traumatised mind or simply by pressing re-play on one from the stack of torturous memories, the action was both relieving and exhausting.

Waking up meant the nightmares were over; waking up meant he had to pick himself up and, despite all odds, face another day, even when his body ached and his soul seemed too tired, yet determined to continue to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love.

A woman he proudly called his girlfriend was nothing less than everything he could wish for; she carried beauty in features she considered imperfect, she never failed to make him smile for at least a fraction, her laughter filled his chest with delight as it lit up the room and she was gentle and dorky to a fault. And for he was willing to give her the world, she reciprocated his feelings to full extend.

Waking up next to the woman he loved was what always won over the desire to bury his face under the covers and tell the world to let him fucking rest.

He even cherished waking up with you. Hell, if he could squeeze in a morning run between the time he got up and you did, the better. He loved pulling you from your dreamland, even when you had clearly been dreaming a sweet dream, your lips gently curled up in a smile; because every time he tenderly welcomed you in a new day, your smile would turn brighter.

Which was exactly the reason why, when he opened his eyes today and found your side of the bed – how bold of him to call it that, when you usually slept in his embrace anyway, keeping his heart warm while he did the same for your body – empty, he knew that day would downright suck.

Steve muttered a curse under his breath, running his hand down his face as he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

You weren’t exactly a proclaimed early riser, so not only that your absence was unnerving and painful, because today more than at any other day Steve would beg for you to be there when he entered the reality, but it was also slightly disconcerting.

He tried not to read more into it and as he glanced at the clock, he knew shouldn’t – after all, he had been informed you would be gone at that time.

Still though, dark thoughts were sometimes hard to chase away. Thoughts regarding you avoiding him. He hated when he was pulling your bright spirit down, dragging you into the shadows of his world, bloody and violent, fearsome and traumatising, offering nothing but bruises, cuts, stab-wounds and shot-wounds, broken bones and broken minds.

Whenever he came back to you from a mission – a bad one, in particular – and you offered him comfort, kindness and understanding that rationally didn’t have any base since you weren’t a soldier of any kind, he questioned whether this was the last time. Whether this was the last drop into the metaphorical goblet of your patience with which it would overflow and you would finally break things off with him after a year being together, living with him for half of that time.

Steve closed his eyes, recalling your words from yesterday, ones that, at the time, fell to deaf ears.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you soothed him when he told you what had happened, how he had messed up and nearly got Natasha killed, which had resulted in Clint yelling at him for being incompetent for leading the team. “From what I hear, anyone would have made the same decision on their best conscience if they received the same intel – hell, this was the best option, they could have decided worse. You’re a great leader. And an amazing friend. The fact you’re beating yourself over something that was beyond anyone’s control only proves it. Let the guilt go.”

He had basked in your embrace and soothing voice, but the message you had been trying to send was not quite getting through, leaving him restless and feeling uneasy, drowning in self-doubt and pain.

Of course, being a bioengineer, having been the one to help developing actual painkillers and anaesthetics for him, you had also basically shoved the former down his throat because of his healing broken ribs, which caused him to sleep through your alarm and wake up at shamefully late hour.

Which meant he missed you and you had already must be on your way to France for symposium of biogenetics.

As if it wasn’t enough that he was questioning his yesterday’s decisions, his position in the team as a leader and a person to be begin with, and his life choices overall you weren’t here.

Maybe Clint was right; he might have been a captain, but in a name only. He fucked up royally and it could have cost his dear friend her life. He wasn’t what he had used to be. This century offered people much stronger, smarter and more capable than him, easily being able to replace him in the position.

His gut twisted at that idea, but perhaps this could be the time he should make space for someone else and just follow orders. Hell, he never wanted to lead in the first place! Not when he had first joined the army nearly a hundred years ago.

His sigh was the only sound in the screaming silence of the bedroom and Steve pushed himself to his feet, not surprised at all that his ribs only echoed the previous pain, and shuffled to the bathroom to have a shower.

Too sleepy and cranky to notice it earlier, he only found a sticky note – possibly having been on the mirror but peeling off because of the steam from the shower – in the bathroom sink.

Unwittingly, his lips curled up in a small smile when he recognized your messy handwriting.

Morning, Stevie. Find a little thing in our kitchen :)

Not bothering to wear more than his boxers, he obediently walked to your private kitchen. You both enjoyed breakfast with the team in the communal kitchen, but there were times you wanted some privacy, revelling in the moments you could have only for yourselves.

Kitchen? Had you managed to make him breakfast? Steve wasn’t hungry, his insides too tight for that, his mind too heavy, but he appreciated the gesture anyw-

He frowned when he found his laptop on the counter instead, a flash drive lying on top of it with another note. He wondered how could he not wake up with you moving around the apartment.

Please, play ‘PLAY ME’ video. I think it’ll be worth it. xxx

Steve found himself tilting his head to side, curious and confused. He couldn’t imagine you leaving something of a-- dirty nature for him, knowing the mood he had been in last night and yesterday in general. Sex was usually not the best way of cheering him up in such situation. As embarrassing as it might seem, he was more of a cuddler at times like these.

Not bothering with fixing himself breakfast, debating Natasha was probably still asleep in her bed in the med bay, he seated himself on the bar stool and heard out your plea.

He was not by any means ready for what was waiting for him after pressing play.

Whoever was filming was apparently not very good at it as the screen appeared to be shaking, but in the end, the device must have been placed on a steady surface and actually zoomed onto something concrete instead of showing a blur.

What surprised him more though was that it was Clint’s voice sounding from the speakers of his laptop, even before the screen showed his face.

“You for real? Do you realize what time it is…? --Oh, not as late as I thought actually. Ugh, okay. I guess that’s fair. You’re actually making this easier for me, you know that?”

Steve frowned, gulping as the voice of his teammate turned from annoyed to surprised to grateful. All of the emotions were far from what Steve had been met with yesterday’s afternoon after the mission.

The archer was seated on an empty bed in med bay, probably alone in the room (unless Steve counted the person who was filming), because there were no intrusive sounds. Steve wasn’t taken aback by the environment he found him in – after all, Clint probably spent a lot of time there, watching over his partner in both work and personal life. He fidgeted before looking directly to the camera.

“Okay. Here we go. Hey, Cap. Steve. I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday. I was being an ass,” he admitted, the annoyance back – this time though, it looked as if the source of his indignation was Clint himself. “You know… you know Tasha’s my whole world and seeing her almost blown up… it got the best of me. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. In fact, I think I’d give the same order. So… I’m sorry.”

Steve gulped, not entirely convinced. If he was being honest, the seeds of doubts had been planted and while Clint’s apology did lift some of the weight from Steve’s shoulders, genuinely appreciated, his mood remained rather sour and gloomy.

Confusion never left him either. He was 95% percent sure you had been the one to film the apology, but the reason behind such action was escaping him. Had Clint left with you, hence apologizing like this instead of in person? That wasn’t right. Why would he go with you?

Turned out, expecting that that was it, the end of the recording, was a mistake. The recording went on and Steve only now noticed what length the timer actually showed. It would go for… several minutes, actually.

That was strange.

Clint on the screen fidgeted and took a deep breath, exchanging a look with of whom Steve assumed was you.

“The truth is, I wouldn’t trade places with you. Like, ever. The pressure we put on you must be unbearable. I think we forget about that sometimes, what a toll it has to take on you. The responsibility on your shoulders has to weigh a fucking ton. We don’t say thank you enough and when we do, you shrug it off, because that’s what you do. Because you think that’s what’s expected of you.”

Steve blinked in surprise, the words striking him right in his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. What… why would Clint say that?

“And it is, but I want to tell you we appreciate it. We do. To actually fulfil my assignment, I should phrase it differently. I appreciate your modesty, your determination and the fact I can always rely on you. Except when your lady’s around. Then you kinda get lost in-”

A terribly aimed slipper hit the archer in his shoulder and the corners of Steve’s lips automatically twitched in amusement. Oh yeah, it was definitely you behind the camera, now he was sure. Familiar warmth spread around his heart when he realized you wanted to prove him that Clint not only didn’t blame him, but appreciated him even.

What had Steve even done to deserve you?

“-ouch!” the man in the recording complained, pretending to be wounded. “What? It’s the truth—fine. You’re just- you’re great, man, alright? That’s it.”

Steve nearly went for his phone that very second, wanting to let you know how much he loved you, even though his doubts didn’t go away.

The picture changing in a sharp cut made him stop as he spotted a flash of red hair.

Natasha. She was awake. It was undoubtedly her and in a recent footage, because Steve recognized that wound on her head – and she was lying in a hospital bed.

What in the world even…?

The tension in his shoulders eased despite his heart racing. She was smirking even.

“Hey there, you righteous guilty-driven ass!” she greeted him, only to be scolded by your voice from behind the camera.

“Nat!“

“I swear I’m about to make a point!” the spy protested, raising her uninjured hand in a gesture of surrender. “So from what I understand, you’ll get this video only in the morning and by that time, you’ll have already checked up on me for three times – or four, unless you bothered to find this recording first thing after waking up – despite doctors telling you I’d be fine every time you do.”

That-- was unsurprisingly accurate. What Natasha said was true – Steve had checked up on her three times before you had talked him into finally going to bed to get some sleep and he had been thinking about stopping by first thing after finishing this video.

It was almost infuriating how much Natasha knew him, but Steve was too relieved she was awake, speaking and calling him out on his bullshit to care.

“‘cause you’re fussing, Rogers. You’re a mother hen.”

Steve sighed. She was right once more. He had been said such, multiple times. But he felt responsible for his team, for his friends and you and he had seen too many deaths in both the past and the modern times to not to fuss.

“But you know what? We bitch about it, but we love it,” Natasha announced, her smirk softening into a smile. “Let’s be honest; our team needs a babysitter. Clint and Tony are giant children with dangerous weapons, not to mention oh so mighty Thor, I admit I can get cocky just to prove myself in the sea of testosterone from all of you and Bruce… you always try to get him in, showing him that he’s worthy as both the Hulk and his human self. You’re a mother hen with giant heart and you’re baring it for us, carrying it on your sleeve and putting in into everything you do. So… keep rolling. And for god’s sake, do not visit me again.”

Terrible wink followed, very unsubtle, as if she was telling him she was only kidding, but at the same time not quite, because he was overdoing it with his mother-henning.

And Steve found himself laughing at the glint in her eyes, feeling tears forming in his own. His limbs felt strangely floaty, as did his head. He couldn’t remember receiving so much compliments and support in a very long time, certainly not from the former assassin duo.

The sensation was pleasant, but oh so unusual, he couldn’t even describe it.

Of course, the fact you had orchestrated this whole this was not helping his lovesickness. It was hard to tell whether it was day or night from the footage, when exactly you did this, but he was aware of how nervous you were about the symposium. You should have been going through your notes for your presentation (for like… the tenth time, because for all your brilliance, you were a very nervous speaker, a bit like Bruce); instead, you spent your spare time doing this, only to make Steve feel better.

And the video was far from being over.

Surely enough, the scenery changed again, the camera aimed at a computer screen this time. Steve didn’t understand until he recognized Thor, who was currently spending his time with Jane Foster in New Mexico, video-conferencing with you.

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered under his breath, amazed.  

“What is it, lady of Captain’s?” the alien demigod asked, frowning at the screen of his own computer. “This way of communication is still confusing, why are you writing when we can talk together? …Oh.”

The blond was silent for a moment, appearing in deep thought, before smiling broadly.

“Very well. What is of the Captain’s qualities. He’s a mighty warrior. A brave man I would always follow into battle without question. Excellent leader, always having his garrison’s safety in mind-“

A sting of guilt burned at Steve’s consciousness at that.

Did he? He always tried, sure… but was it enough? Yesterday’s incident was proving the opposite, yet he had been acting in utter belief that what he had decided was for the best, confident that the risk for his teammate was minimal. That was the problem with bad intel; they never knew it was bad until something blew up in their faces, sometimes literally. He could never predict what had happened.

And with each minute of this video, Steve felt he was letting a piece of the guilt go, along with doubt.

He wasn’t stupid; he knew that precisely that was the point of this thing, but… yeah, that realization did nothing against the fact that it was working.

“Steven radiates strength, both bodily and mentally and he is a great friend of all,” Thor on the screen continued in his loud voice. “I feel blessed by the Allfather and all Gods above for I encountered him and fought side-by-side with him as well celebrated victories. I look forward for more to come, always delighted by reconnecting with him.”

By the time Bruce in his lab coat appeared (seriously, how did you manage to get a hold of everyone? Steve wasn’t sleeping for that long, though it probably helped that half of his team, if not all, were insomniacs), Steve was breathless with anticipation, greedy for hearing what others had to say, no matter how selfish it made him.

He craved comfort and since you weren’t there… you obtained a different kind of comfort for him and shit, was it working.

“Uh. I’m not good at this-”

“Try? Please?” you asked the scientist softly and Steve could imagine your soothing smile, the gentle hope and plea in your eyes. Steve could never deny you when you asked something of him like that and when you stooped even lower and used your puppy eyes, he stood no chance.

“He’s lucky to have you, you know,” Bruce noted and Steve’s smile widened when you sounded flustered at that remark.

“Bruce…”

“What? You’re an important part of him we appreciate. But I understand complimenting you isn’t the point of this. Just let me… eh. Alright. I think I got it. I’m not good at talking, but I’m gonna try,” he exclaimed, clearly determined. He wasn’t looking directly into the camera, but that didn’t steal any significance from his words.

“Steve, I hope you don’t beat yourself over what happened yesterday. I mean… I know you do, but my point is – don’t. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. You do what you believe is right and we know you long enough to know that that moral compass of yours is as important as your quick decisions in the field – right ones. But what is even more important and why I appreciate you is that… you try to see that piece of goodness in everyone. You see it in Nat, who sure made some questionable things in the past. You see through Tony’s façade and… you see good in me. You look and you see good in people – and every creature – and that’s the best thing about you. Ugh… yeah, I don’t think I can do more.”

He smiled awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers then and lowering his gaze.

It was easy to imagine what – or rather who – was coming next. Steve wasn’t confident he could take it. He had felt an uncomfortable stinging in his eyes two people back, few tears at bay, but he wanted to watch the rest.

The floating sensation overwhelmed his brain and he was honestly surprised he was still breathing, because he felt too stunned to do so. And he felt… moved. Appreciated. Cherished. Hell, he even felt the confidence he needed in the field to the exact quick decisions Bruce had mentioned slowly returning.

His team, his friends… they trusted him. They doubted him less than he doubted himself.

The picture got blurry once more, Tony’s incredulous voice crystal clear.

“So you want me to make a video equivalent of a love letter to him,” the billionaire stated sceptically and despite himself, Steve grinned.

Tony was a complicated person, but leave it to him to be sarcastic and lift the spirit in his own very specific way.

“No! That’s not- Tony. Please?”

“You know, this puppy eyes shit only works on Rogers, not-“ he wavered and Steve laughed as the recording cleared and focused on Tony’s torn expression. Oh, he was going to give in to Steve’s amazing girl, Steve could tell. “-shit. I can’t believe you’re making me do this. You’re infuriating.”

“I know,” you sing-sang as Tony sunk further into the chair in his workshop. “And thanks.”

“Fine. Hey, Capsicle.”

Steve could practically hear your eyeroll at the nickname and for a good measure, he rolled his eyes too. Capsicle. It used to irritate him more, the word Stark used the first time they met. Now it was-- Steve was only mildly annoyed when Tony called him that. There were worse names he had been called.

“Steve. I bet you know, unlike like Miss America over here, that I only give nicknames to people I like,” Tony made a point, looking at you with a smirk and Steve was sure a light-bulb appeared above his own head as he realized that… it actually made sense.

“There aren’t many of those and even less of them realize that they are part of that exclusive club. Look, I do stupid shit. I built robots for fun and to cover for the fact I couldn’t exactly fight without them, and I’m terrible with people. Fury didn’t even want me on the Avengers initiative, because I’m known for being a selfish bastard and not a team player, which you recognized within five minutes of meeting me.”

Steve felt rather bad for such an early assumption. Admittedly, he had been harsh on the man, letting the information he had received cloud his judgement and became a willing victim of prejudice. Hearing Tony self-reflecting his faults, eating the humble pie, it only proved how wrong Steve had been. Hell, Tony had turned out to be the man to make the sacrifice the very same day Steve had accused him of his inability to do so.

Which was why Tony’s next words knocked the air out of Steve’s lungs very effectively, striking his heart with deadly precision. He honestly had no idea what to do with the knowledge he obtained now.

“The thing is, your stupid blond ass is making me want to change that. I hate saying this, because I’m aware it can be used against me, but you’re my friend. I respect you and I admire you. You inspire people. I will always brag about the time I carried a nuke into a wormhole, but the truth is, as much as I liked Coulson and his death was something that brought us together, without you, I don’t think I would have done it. I will bitch about you, I will call you names, I will be an arrogant ass, because that’s who I am, but it won’t change the fact I look up to you. …‘kay. I think that I did ok-- are you crying?”

Steve shook himself, for a moment swearing Tony could see him and spoke directly to him. He quickly blinked away the few tears, shocked to his very core.

Tony… was claiming to take the risk of dying during the battle of New York, because… Steve had inspired him? What the actual-

“Shut up,” you murmured at Tony’s accusation and Steve couldn’t blame you one bit for the tears he couldn’t see. He was such a mess himself. This was too much.

What Tony had said, what you had done for him, what everyone shared through this recording--

He wanted to close the laptop shut and deal with the raging sea of emotions, the silly laugh and tears threatening to spill in waterfalls, the feeling of his heart swelling and nearly bursting in his chest, making it difficult to breathe, his head spinning-

But the video was still not over.

The scenery didn’t quite change, except the chair Tony had been sitting in was empty now, his voice sounding as he spoke from a different angle to the device.

“Come on, doc, you have to do this too, otherwise it won’t count. Do it for the old man. Should I leave so my virgin ears don’t bleed on the dirty things you-“

“Tony… shut up.”

Steve could hear your sigh and heavy hesitant steps and then you appeared in the frame, seating into the chair with a discontent frown, fidgeting nervously.

Steve thought his mouth might actually tear with how widely he was smiling now. You were adorable as the camera revealed you in all your glory – Steve’s long t-shirt you usually slept in and a pair of baggy sweatpants you wore when you were cold, as well as a light sweater thrown over your shoulders. Which, given how tired you looked, made sense, because you were always cold when you didn’t get enough sleep.

Steve hadn’t thought he could get any more touched by what you did, but seeing you now, he assessed the sacrifice you had made just to make him feel better all over again, the severity of your actions hitting him.

What you had done must have been a spontaneous action; you had actually filmed all of those things in the late night and early morning. Tired, with no make-up on yet, but smiling that nervous sweet smile, you tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. You were not looking to the camera, worrying your teeth over your lip.

“Okay, okay…. Please, look directly to the camera and state your name and date of birth for the record,” Tony encouraged you, indulging the moment your roles reversed.

“I’m not doing that,” you hissed, but then you raised your gaze and Steve’s heart stopped. Despite the exhaustion on your face, your eyes radiated warmth and tenderness. “Hey, Stevie. I guess Tony has a point for once-“

“Hey-!“

“-and since I came up with this, I should contribute. But where do I even start?” you wondered as if you truly had to wonder, as if there were too many things to point out. Steve craved having you in his arms to hug you profusely and kiss the living daylight of you for being so sweet and precious.

“And they all gave names to your qualities so well! Uhm… now, I don’t have a first-hand experience with your Avenging, so I can leave out this part of you, but there is still so much to love about you. First of all, you’re kind. Such a gentle soul, such a giver. You’ve been kicked down so many times and yet here you are, not yelling at me when I eat too much chocolate and then complain about stomach-ache and my belly being too soft-“ Steve chuckled at that, recalling way too many times that situation occurred. “I bet that watching this video, you’re still thinking I look cute instead of acknowledging I look like shit. Because you seek the beauty in everything and you love the world. It was one of the first things I noticed about you-“

“Right after his ass and muscles, no doubt mesmerized by his sky-blue eyes,“ Tony hummed from the background, effectively startling Steve who had honestly let the fact that Tony was even there slip from his mind, too lost in your love declarations.

“Fuck you, Tony. And his eyes are not sky-blue, they have a little green in them.“

“Really? Jarvis, show me a good picture…”

“Anyway. You give so much and don’t ask anything in return. Sometimes I can see how much you want to, but you never do. It’s like you don’t expect to get it anyway, not even the little things. As if you didn’t deserve it. Newsflash, Stevie, you do. You deserve the world. I wish I could give it to you…”

Oh, you’re doing that, sweetheart, Steve wished to tell you, but even if he had you on the phone at the moment, he wouldn’t be able to say a word with his throat constricted with the overwhelming emotions.

“And the world itself won’t come crushing down over a mistake that wasn’t even in your power to avoid and it won’t break down if you take a breath and relax. I always think I’m on the right way to convince you about that, but then you shy away from it. You matter, Stevie. You, Steven Grant Rogers, matter so much. Everyone pointed out at least one thing about you and not the Captain and that’s not a coincidence. Despite everything, you’re only human, we remember that and we all love you for it.”

“Some more than others…” Tony interrupted again, his voice carrying a hoarseness as if he was affected by your speech as well. You pointedly ignored him.

“Don’t forget that. I have it from a good source that a guy once told you that everything special about you came from a bottle. We both know that’s a load of bullshit. Even Doctor Erskine recognized how special you were and decided to choose you. Good becomes great, you told me he said. Well, sure. It just needed an opportunity to show. Let’s be honest, I have no doubt that your stubbornness and other tiny flaws amplified too, because you’re unbelievable sometimes, but that’s okay. In the end, you’re the best man I have ever met and I am lucky and feel proud to be called yours. I love you, Stevie. So much,” your voice lowered to a whisper and with a tight smile, you lightly kissed your fingers and nearly touched the lens of the camera.

Steve choked on a watery laugh. You really were too cute for words. A brilliant scientist, one of the most intelligent women the world knew, and here you were being adorable and utterly devoted to him.

Christ, he didn’t deserve you.

“Stupid allergies…” Tony complained, fooling no one as his voice came out scratchy from the lump that no doubt formed in his throat. “You done?”

To Steve’s utter surprise, you shook your head, drying a stray tear that escaped your eyes as well, but the corners of your lips twitched in attempted smile.

“Just a sec. I’m sorry, I want to edit this video more, cut some parts out, but I’ll probably run out of time and I want you to have it in the morning. It’s a bit messy, but I hope with all my heart that you received the message loud and clear.” You have no idea. “Also, sorry for the killer dose of painkillers and sneaking out without a goodbye. I’d be pissed if you did that to me, so… you know, sorry. I promise to make it up to you when I’m back-”

“Ouch, ouch! That’s what I was talking about, I did not want to hear that! I’m scarred for life!” Tony howled dramatically and Steve didn’t even had energy to roll his eyes. He was a complete mess.

“Tony? You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re too good to be true, doc. I think you gotta get on the plane in like thirty minutes, so-“

A look of utter shock and horror appeared on your face and you jumped from the chair with admirable energy for such an early hour and the all-nighter you pulled. “Shit, shit shit-- I’m not gonna edit it at all then, dammit-“

“Nah, I bet it’s better without it, more authentic. Go write a note or something equally sickeningly sweet that you romantics do-”

“Turn it off, you goof!” you giggled, reaching for the camera and the screen went black as if on command.

Steve sat on the bar stool for several minutes, staring on the screen absently, grinning and feeling… so indescribably loved he couldn’t quite contain it.

What you had done-

Feeling like an idiot for not doing it earlier, he sprang towards the bedroom to get his phone, typing a message to you. If he remembered correctly, you might still be on your way, but sometimes it was hard to tell with Tony’s inventions.

S: Have a safe flight and nice stay, sweetheart. You’ll rock. x

S: And thank you for what you’ve done. I don’t deserve you.

His heart skipped a beat when the phone chimed in response almost instantly.

♥: Clearly, you weren’t paying enough attention when watching. Go play it again, Stevie.

He grinned. Apparently, despite the lack of sleep and the nerves he had seen every time you had thought of your presentation, you were fine.

His heart felt too big for his ribcage, squishing his lungs as it grew in size, barely being able to let out a laugh.

S: I did!

S: Correction then: thank you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ll always be grateful for you and I love you more than anything.

This time, he expected the early comeback.

♥: Love you too. Miss you already! xxx

Steve set the phone down with a goofy smile plastered over his face and went to watch the video again – the part with you anyway.

He could go and check on Natasha later. After all, she told him not to do that again anyway.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

I should be posting Errare Humanum Est and Attached, but I was feeling a bit down and overwhelmed with schoolwork, so I dusted off this baby for you. I hope you enjoyed :-*

Steve deserves some love from his girl and from his teammates. I actually considered writing this with few alternations so it was Peter doing the video (as a non-relationship kind of thing), but I guess this is even sweeter... in a romantic way anyway.

Thank you for reading!

[neomanateefromexiletribe]

little mermaid

Leviathan x Gender Neutral MC

Fluff, Love Confessions, Mermaid Levi

Leviathan turns into a mermaid, and it's up to you to take care of him.

"Levi?” you call out, almost choking.

Your mouth opens wide in shock as you spot the third brother in his tub bed, said tub being filled halfway with water. But that isn’t the most strangest thing, far from it. No, what really has you in shock is the mermaid tail hanging over the tub and the fact that Levi is shirtless.

The demon yelps and covers his chest, his face instantly blushing a deep red that could rival strawberries, and his tail flops back into the water with a loud noise. Still astounded, you close the door behind you and lock it for good measure, and you approach Levi, slowly.

“Levi?” you repeat, worried for your best friend, “are you okay?”

You must have sounded worried enough for Levi to resurface slightly, and he mumbles something unintelligible.

“I didn’t catch that,” you say honestly, and he coughs.

“I don’t… I don’t know what happened,” he moans, “I woke up and I was a mermaid! So I’m staying in water for now until I’m back to normal.”

Okay, he managed to explain his situation properly, so now all that’s left is for you to take action. You nod, and you roll up your sleeves. Well, your invisible sleeves, since you’re wearing a tee-shirt today, but anyway.

You head closer to Levi, who’s still a blushing mess, and you smile at him gently. You raise your hand to pet his hair, secretly sniggering at how red he’s getting from that simple action, and you ruffle his hair a little more roughly.

You then look at his mermaid body, extremely curious to see how pretty he got. In your opinion, Levi is already the prettiest person you know (sorry Asmo) but now that he’s a whole mermaid, it’s not doubt his prettiness shot up.

His bare chest is so unfairly attractive, especially for someone who doesn’t work out that much – or at all? You’ve never seen Levi work out, and you doubt one can get this body from playing sports video games.

You’ve thought more than once about running your hands over his naked body, whether in the comfort of your own bed or when cuddling with him. Platonic cuddling is awesome, with him or with his brothers, but when it comes to Levi you can’t help but want more. His usual clothes are super comfortable, so warm from his body heat, but… his body under those probably feels so nice.

You’ve wondered several times if Levi would blush if you were to touch him, fingers slowly feeling him up, starting from his neck and heading all the way down to his sweatpants. When feeling particularly naughty, you even imagined how sexy times with Levi could be because there’s so much you could do with him, but… you should probably focus on the task at hand.

His mermaid tail starts hanging over the tub once more, and this way you get to see it from up close. His scales range from deep shades of purple to lighter ones of blue that reminds you of the color of his usual nail polish. They’re shining under the lights of his room, and you’re in awe to see such a beautiful mermaid tail on Levi.

“S-stop staring,” Levi stutters, “I know I look disgusting.”

You almost get whiplash from how fast you turn towards him.

“You look gorgeous, what are you saying?!” you tell him, your eyes widening. “Levi, your tail is so beautiful and you always look pretty to begin with!! I think you’ve never looked better!”

Levi blinks in confusion, and he makes out a weird noise as he buries his face in his hands.

“You’re not lying?” he asks, and you smile at him.

“Of course not,” you say, “you really look amazing. It’s just like that anime we watched together last week, you know?”

“My Crush Turned Into A Mermaid and That’s What It Took For Me to Confess?” Levi says, peeking through his fingers.

“Exactly,” you nod, trying your best to ignore how much it fits the current situation. “Okay, is there anything you need? Food? Something to drink? Something to do?”

“I could use some snacks and a drink,” Levi admits, “other than that I’m good.”

You nod and fetch some poisoned apples based snacks as well as an energy drink, which you hand to Levi. You watch him as he eats as you make some small talk, and an idea blooms in your mind. It’ll give your feelings away but… it may be worth it. You’ve waited enough to confess, after all.

You get up, putting away Levi’s snacks and drink, and you proceed to head for his closet.

“What are you doing?” Levi asks, confused.

“Close your eyes,” you instruct, looking back at him to wink.

“Okay…”

You undress quickly, only keeping a comfortable pair of boxers you stole from Levi a few months ago and an oversized tee-shirt hanging in Levi’s closet. You smile to yourself, happy to be wearing Levi’s clothes, and you head back to Levi’s tub.

His eyes are still closed, so you try your best to be discreet as you get into the tub, carefully sitting on top of his tail. However, Levi obviously notices the sudden added weight on top of him and opens his eyes while gasping. You send him an innocent look, feeling the water wet the bottom of your shirt and your underwear, and you smile at him.

“Hi!” you greet cheerfully, and Levi makes a noise similar to an oral keyboard smash.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing here?! Are you crazy?” he screeches.

You pout, and cross your arms on your chest. You see Levi’s eyes glancing at your chest, but he looks away as fast as he looked, visibly too embarrassed to look at your body when you’re so close to him.

“I just wanted to keep you company,” you tell him, pout intensifying. “I thought you’d get lonely in here.”

“Did you really have to get on top of me?!” Levi asks, panicking.

His flush is spreading to the top of his chest, and you feel like hugging and kissing him so much it hurts. But you can’t do that, not until you’ve properly confessed and asked for permission to touch him.

“I’m not heavy,” you counter.

“That’s not the point! You’re sitting on me!” Levi protests.

“I’ve already been on your lap before,” you point out, “and we’ve slept together before too.”

Levi gets impossibly redder, and he coughs.

“You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks, unable to look at you.

“Of course not, Levi,” you answer, “what would I do without you?”

Levi doesn’t answer, too busy hiding his face. You smile gently, and turn around so as to take a more proper look at his tail. With the way you’re sitting, Levi has a nice view of your back, and you think that maybe he’ll feel less embarrassed to look at your back rather than at your chest.

You really want to try touching his tail, but you’re unsure whether he will like it or not. You turn your head slightly, and attempt at making eye contact with the shy demon.

“Levi, can I touch your tail?” you ask.

“Su-sure, if you don’t think it’s disgusting,” he answers.

“I told you, your mermaid form is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” you reassure him.

To your delight, Levi brings back his tail into the tub, and you decide to be bold. You embrace it, plastering the fins against your chest as you hug it. Levi makes a noise that sounds like a strangled moan of pleasure, but you want to cuddle his tail for now. Hopefully, if he sees that you like it this much, it’ll be easier to ask him for cuddles after.

“It’s so different from anything I’ve ever touched before,” you tell him, loving the way the mermaid tail feels against your body.

“Isn’t it yucky? It’s probably wet and sticky,” Levi weakly argues.

You can’t see him, so you can only imagine his expression: wet, glistening eyes filled with unshed tears, and bitten lips that you’d kill to taste. You close your eyes briefly, imagining that Levi embraces you, and the feeling is so nice you hug Levi’s tail a little tighter, on reflex.

“I love it,” you answer, trying not to sound breathless, “it feels wonderful.”

The foreign weight against your chest really feels nice, and you high-key wish it was Levi resting his head there instead of his tail, but it’s okay. You let go of his tail and turn around to face him. Levi is, as you expected, still red in the face and looks this close to crying. You feel empowered by a sudden burst of courage, and you lean in closer to him.

Levi’s back is already against the end of the tube, so he merely looks at you with a mixture of shock and desire. If you want to act on your feelings, it’s now or never.

“Levi?” you call out his name while making eye contact.

“Y-yes?” he stutters.

“I must be honest with you,” you say, and resume after taking a deep breath, “there’s a reason I think you look gorgeous, whether as a mermaid or every day, and it’s because I’m in love with you.”

Levi freezes, and follows a long silence as you both stare at each other.

“No way,” he says, blinking slowly, “I must be dreaming.”

Maybe this is your chance, you think to yourself, leaning in even closer.

“Would this convince you that this is reality?” you ask before pressing your lips against his.

He makes a quiet gasp, but makes no move to push you away as you suck on his lips, slow and loving. You rest your hands against his chest, cuddling up closer to him, and your heart misses a beat as you feel him wrap his arms around your waist.

You don’t want to break the kiss, not now, because you’re so hungry for his lips that you’ve dreamed of devouring for so long. He tastes like the snacks he had earlier, and you can’t get enough of him. You need so much more.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Levi interrupts as you pull away to breathe, “are you sure you don’t have the wrong person?”

You blink in confusion, and you see in his eyes that he’s conflicted. He’s probably unsure if your feelings are genuine, because he’s not used to being loved, and he’s probably wondering if you’re just going to retract your statement because you’re pulling a prank on him. But you know what you want to tell him, so you shake your head and grin at him.

“I’m not confused,” you tell him as you pet his hair, “I’m in love with my best friend, with the most important person in my life and with the person I want to cherish the most. I think you’re incredible, and what I love the most about you is your passion. And, uh, well, it doesn’t hurt that you’re super handsome on top of it, you know?”

That’s a lot of information to take in for the Avatar of Envy, and he makes another loud noise before hugging you tightly, hiding his face in your neck.

“You’re… you’re too much,” Levi moans, “I feel like I’m about to explode because of how much I’m feeling.”

“Well, if one could explode from how much love they’re feeling for someone, I would’ve long ago,” you joke, kissing his hair, “I love you so, so much Levi, you can’t even imagine.”

Levi squeezes you in his arms, and look at you, biting on his lower lip once again.

“You really love me? Even if I’m a worthless otaku?”

“You’re not worthless,” you counter, kissing his nose, “and I love that you’re an otaku.”

Levi looks down for a few seconds, and he looks up again, hopeful.

“So, um, my Henry doesn’t have to be just my best friend? You’re my lover too?”

“Absolutely,” you grin, chuckling at how cute he looks right now, “isn’t that why Henry is the best?”

Levi’s face brightens with a huge smile and this time, he’s the one who initiates a deep kiss. You’re the one moaning as his tongue strokes yours, and you shiver as his hands travel down your body, mapping your curves through your wet tee-shirt.

“I love you too, so much,” Levi pants against your lips, “I’m not… very experienced, but we can, um, go on that quest together?”

“I’d love that,” you breathe before pulling him back for another breathless kiss.

From the way Levi’s hands are going under your shirt, you figure out that turning Levi back to normal can wait. For now, you’re very content with making out with mermaid Levi.

[sugarandspace]

Some of us are human (Sterek)

(posted on AO3 under the pseud aconitum)

Summary: While researching the newest threat with Stiles, Derek comes across a box under Stiles' bed. The box has the words "open when I'm dead" written on it and for a moment Derek forgets how to breathe.

Word count: 2,446

Warnings:  for a moment Derek thinks Stiles might be suicidal (he's not), there's also talk about death (but no one dies) and a mention of the nogitsune and the darkness inside Stiles

A/N: check out this beautiful gifset made by my talented friend @sparkandwolf who also helped me with the fic!! 💙

Read on AO3

Stiles’ desk lamp is a little too bright for Derek’s liking and he’s sure it’s going to give him a headache soon. Maybe Stiles would be okay with switching places. Derek looks at the bed where Stiles has been sitting with his laptop. The bed is full of printed out articles and notes Stiles has been taking and Derek doesn’t dare touch them in fear that he’s going to mess up the other man’s organized chaos. He’s going to have to ask him once he comes back from the bathroom.

Stiles is back in Beacon Hills for the winter break and they are at Stiles’ researching the newest creature that has arrived in the town. The amount of books and notebooks and other sources Stiles has on his bookshelf is honestly impressive, and they hope they can find something that could tell them what they are up against.

One of the scrolls - yes scrolls, Derek has no idea where Stiles has found scrolls - falls from the desk when Derek turns to face it again. It rolls under Stiles’ bed and Derek gets up from the desk chair to kneel on the floor so he can see under the bed and can see where it rolled. It’s not far and he can easily reach it.

Just as he’s about to get back up, he notices an old shoe box under Stiles’ bed. It’s not what catches his attention, there are plenty of things under the younger man’s bed, but what makes him stop and stare at the box are the words written on the side of it, bold black letters in Stiles’ handwriting:

OPEN WHEN I’M DEAD

Derek stares at the box for a moment, feeling like his whole world has come to a halt. When he’s able to move he pulls the box from under the bed and sits more comfortably on the floor, bringing the box to his lap. He doesn’t even stop to think if it’s okay before he opens the lid and looks into the box.

Privacy be damned, if Stiles is planning on dying he needs to know everything.

Derek knows that some darkness still lingers inside of Stiles from when he, Scott, and Allison died for a moment a few years ago when they were trying to save their parents. The same darkness that made him vulnerable to the nogitsune. A darkness that will never completely go away.

But Derek didn’t know that it was affecting him this deeply. Was Stiles suicidal? The thought makes his heart race in panic.

What he finds from the box makes his eyebrows furrow. The box has three light blue envelopes in it, each of them addressed to someone. The first one is for the Sheriff,  the second one for Scott, and the third one is for... Derek?

It’s in that moment that Stiles walks back to the room. Derek had been so distracted by the box he hadn’t even heard him walk up the stairs. Derek looks up from the envelope he’s holding - the one with his name written on in Stiles’ handwriting - and can easily see the moment Stiles realises what he’s holding.

Stiles’ hand goes to the back of his neck in a nervous manner and he tries to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“So you found those,” he says. “Neat.”

The situation is very far from neat and Derek doesn’t know what to say. He’s not good with serious conversations and to be honest the flippant tone Stiles is going for grates Derek’s nerves, because this is a serious topic and Stiles’ isn’t allowed to make fun of it.

“What are these?” his tone comes out accusing now that he’s gotten over the shock of finding the letters.

“Listen,” Stiles starts and lets out a deep sigh as he leans against the doorframe, giving up instead of trying to argue. “I’ve seen things - I’ve done things no 20-year-old should ever have to have done. Is it really so unreasonable for me to be prepared for the unfortunate but very possible situation where some supernatural creature will eventually shoot me or maim me or cast me under a curse that no one will be able to break? I don’t have supernatural healing properties. Let’s be real, I’m lucky to still be alive.”

At some point during his speech Stiles had gotten defensive and even though he’s wrapped his arms around his chest in a protective manner Derek can hear his heart beat faster than normal beneath his ribs. Derek can smell hints of embarrassment in the air, but it’s paired with determination. Stiles really does believe in what he’s saying.

And it breaks Derek’s heart.

He’s gone through his own share (and a little more) of bad things in his life, and he knows very well how dangerous the supernatural world can be. But it still hurts somewhere deep in his chest to hear the words Stiles is saying. In no small part because he knows it’s true. Stiles’ mind and soul might be as tough as that of a strong werewolf, but his human body is fragile.

“And I’m part of the reason you’re a part of this world,” Derek says. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud but he can’t help it when the realisation comes to him.

Stiles walks over to him and sits on the floor as well, taking the letter from Derek’s hands and putting it back to the box, which he pushes back under the bed. Derek wants to say that it’s a bit too late for the whole “out of sight, out of mind” thing and that box is probably going to come to haunt Derek’s dreams in the following nights, but he stays quiet.

“No,” Stiles says. It’s short and sure and he makes sure Derek is looking him in the eyes before he continues. “You stop that right now. I won’t let you blame yourself for this. You know what got me into this world? My curiosity. It was my choice to go looking for a body in the woods in the middle of the night, my choice to keep hanging with Scott when he became a werewolf. It’s been, and always will be, my choice to accompany you all to your battles. My choice. I’m aware of all the risks. I don’t regret learning about the supernatural. Ignorance might be bliss but knowledge keeps me safe. That way I can protect myself and the people I care about.”

Derek doesn't know what to say to that. He’s suddenly hit with how much Stiles has grown in the past few years. He’s gone through a lot and he’s not as carefree as he used to be, but this life hasn’t turned him cold. There’s humor and sarcasm in hard places but there’s also wisdom and strength.

“Do you understand me?” Stiles asks. His voice has gone softer now, the determination has made room for gentleness, for the need to be understood.

“Yeah,” Derek replies. He does.

“Those letters are just in case,” Stiles says and looks towards the bed where the box is once again hidden beneath it. “I don’t want anything to be left unsaid if I’m taken from here too soon.”

That sparks a question in Derek, one he’s not sure if he should voice. He understands the letter for the sheriff and he understands the one for Scott. The sheriff is Stiles’ father and Scott is like a brother to him. But Derek? They’ve gotten far from when Stiles accused him of murder and he mainly communicated with threats and glares. They’ve become good friends. But Derek doesn’t see a letter for Lydia or Liam or Isaac. There’s something Stiles wants to tell him that he feels like he can’t say to his face. Something important. In the end the curiosity wins and he asks, “What do you want to say to me?”

Stiles’ eyes widen.

“I think I’d rather wait until I’m dead,” he says and goes to get up but Derek takes a hold of his wrist.

“I want to know now,” he says gently. He feels nervous and he hopes Stiles doesn’t notice that his hands are sweating a little.

Stiles looks uncomfortable when he sits back down.

“Don’t make me wrestle you to get to that letter,” Derek threatens, only half-serious.

“You wouldn’t,” Stiles says and narrows his eyes at Derek. Still, Derek notices how he angles himself slightly more between Derek and the box.

He wouldn’t. Stiles is allowed to have secrets, no matter how much Derek would want to know.

“Obviously you don’t have to,” Derek says. “But I’d really like to know. It’s clearly something important if you’d want me to know in case you died.”

Just saying that - of talking about the possibility that Stiles might die anytime soon - makes Derek’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He cares about the other man more than he’s cared about anyone in a while, more than is probably acceptable to care about someone who’s only supposed to be your friend, even if said friend is also your packmate.

“It might ruin everything,” Stiles warns, but Derek can see that he’s warming up to telling him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” Stiles says and tries to laugh, but it comes out flat.

It might be unfair but Derek uses his senses to get a better read on Stiles. When he breathes in the other man’s scent, among the nervousness he can smell a hint of longing, and a little bit of hope finds its way to Derek’s heart.

Could it be possible that the feelings he has for Stiles were reciprocated? Derek tries not to let the hope grow too much. He’s tried so hard to keep those feelings buried as deep as he could, knowing that Stiles deserves better than him. It’s easier to do that when he imagines that Stiles would never want to be more than friends with him.

“I won’t force you,” Derek tells him honestly. “But I’d like to know.”

Stiles looks at him for a long time, probably weighing his options. It’s clear that he wants to tell Derek, wants to believe that nothing would change, but the fear is persistent.

“Can you honestly say that you’ll be okay with never hearing my answer?” Derek tries, and that seems to do it for Stiles.

“I like you,” he blurts out in a similar way Stiles often blurts things, only this time instead of rushing to talk more Stiles freezes in fear like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

Derek doesn’t know what to say because Stiles’ words leave room for interpretation. Derek can’t know for sure if Stiles means it the way Derek hopes or if he means it in a way he does when he talks about the fries from the local diner. Though, as Derek thinks about it, Stiles wouldn’t be so scared to admit it if his feelings were platonic.

Stiles has been brave and he’s meeting Derek half-way, it’s only fair Derek takes the remaining step to meet him there.

“I like you too,” he says.

Stiles, it turns out, doesn’t hesitate to ask refining questions.

“You mean like… like-like, don’t you?” He asks, not giving Derek time to reply before he’s rambling on, obviously nervous. “Because otherwise this is embarrassing. Oh god, I should have waited until after I die. Is it too late for that? Because Derek if you’re not going to say anything anytime soon I might really die. Death by embarrassment, a new way to go but I bet no one who knows me would be surprised to hear that Stiles Stilinski was the first one to die of embarrassment. I can already see the headstone. Here lies Stiles Sti-”

Stiles doesn’t get to finish because Derek leans in and kisses him. Derek’s been dreaming about this moment many times, has hoped that he could stop the other man from rambling by kissing him speechless, and now he finally can.

It’s better than he dreamed.

Stiles’ lips are soft and he returns the kiss as soon as his brain catches up with the situation. The kiss is tentative, just a touch of lips, but somehow it feels like something huge.

“Oh wow,” Stiles says when they pull away from each other.

When Derek opens his eyes Stiles is still really close, and he smiles when Stiles’ hand comes up to gingerly touch his jaw. Derek wants to tell him that he’s not going to break, but he doesn’t remember the last time someone has touched him so gently. He leans into the touch and smiles.

“Oh wow,” Stiles repeats. “I think you broke me.”

“I’m sorry?” Derek says, to which Stiles snorts.

“You’re forgiven,” he says and leans in to kiss Derek again. This time the kiss turns deeper, more sure now that they both know to expect it.

The hand Stiles has on his jaw turns surer while the other one comes up to Derek’s shoulder. Derek crosses another thing from his list-of-things-he’s-dreamt-of-doing and buries one of his hands into Stiles’ hair and yes - it’s just as soft as he’s imagined. The other hand rests on Stiles’ thigh for balance.

“ Back to what I said earlier ,” Stiles says when they pull away for air. “ Learning about the supernatural side of the world has brought a lot of danger and bad things in my life. But it has also brought you into my life, and I’m really grateful for that. I wouldn’t change anything. If I were to be given a time machine, I wouldn’t go back. Or maybe I would, just a little, so I could do this sooner and we could spend more time kissing because holy hell if I’d known how you reply I would have spoken so much earlier .”

Derek rolls his eyes and takes Stiles by the chin to drag him to another kiss which effectively shuts him up.

“Is this going to be a new thing?” Stiles asks when he pulls back. “You shutting me up with your kisses?”

Derek doesn’t reply with words, but he does kiss Stiles again and that is a reply in itself.

“Okay no talking,” Stiles says when Derek lets his lips go.

“You are talking,” Derek points out as he gets closer again, unable to get enough of kissing Stiles now that he can finally do it.

“Shutting up now,” Stiles says, the words brushing against Derek’s lips before they are kissing again.

This time Stiles really does stay quiet. They get lost in each other, their crazy world and research forgotten around them.

[aspectedstar]

[Info updated as of Patch 5.55]

Name: Listelle Viyrel

Unsundered Name: Ephine

Gender: Female

Age: 21 in ARR, 26 in EW

Race: Raen Au Ra

Relationship: Official with an untempered Elidibus, but still lowkey that not a lot of people know of their status.

Family: Biological family is unknown. Her adoptive Miqo'te parents she keeps in contact with. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn and Elidibus are her main sources of 'support' these days.

Orientation: Bisexual / Demisexual

Nameday: 16th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon [August 16th]

Abilities/Talents: Archery, Botany, Cooking, Able to speak multiple languages [thanks Echo], Healing, Reading.

Job: Former conjurer turned White Mage; Archer/Bard; Adventurer; A Scion of the Seventh Dawn; Botanist whenever help is needed.

Appearance description: A pale-skinned Raen Au Ra that stands at 4 fulms and 9 ilms. Listelle has dark blue, shoulder-length hair with bangs that naturally curls at the ends. Black highlights are added into the mix and always reapplied whenever they start to fade. Sometimes, puts up her hair in high side-ponytail that has a braid embedded around the back of her head. Has side bangs that hang from her face with this hairstyle as well. She has heterochromia eyes with her left being a pale blue, while her right is a bright purple. Listelle is slightly muscular, but also petite. Her body has vanilla scales peppering her body here and there. Mostly can be seen on her face; Her horns a slightly curled, but go backwards only a bit from her face. The tail she has a few spikes here and there, but it's thin. Mostly spiking at the end of it. Usually wearing a pair of reading glasses, because her eyesight isn't 100%.

Unique features (scars, tattoos, etc.): Multiple scars across her body from battles over the years. The biggest one was from the first meeting with Zenos, where he ended up nailing her in the abdomen badly. The scar is a jagged line in sideways line that covers a good portion of her middle to lower back. Listelle is very self-conscious about this particular one; Doesn't like wearing gear that shows off that part of her body.

Personal Beliefs (religious or otherwise): Fully believed in the Mothercrystal and the Twelve, but has changed since the events of SB into ShB. Mostly because of what Elidibus and Emet-Selch had told her. Still believes in a sense of one's wrongdoing will bite them in the ass later in life.

Residence: Medium house plot on the beach in Shirogane, Hingashi. Amaurot on the First.

Birthplace: Somewhere in the Black Shroud.

Dreams: When the world is done being saved, which is almost never; Wanting to have a peaceful life with Elidibus as much as possible; Hoping that one day more White Mages can be sanctioned by the Padaji; Maybe one day have children, but that's not as important.

Fears: Dying when the world needs her the most; Seeing close friends and family die in front of her again and again; Injured to the point she can't fulfill her duties as Warrior of Light; Losing any of her senses.

Introverted / Extroverted / Ambiverted (bold what applies)

How do they handle stress?: When in front of people, she tries her best not to show she's bothered. There are ways for others to know she's about to hit her limit. Listelle is known to pace around a room, fidget with her hands, and get teary-eyed, but the latter is hard to see. Only ways she can combat it is behind closed doors, or out in the wilderness when no one is around. Going out into nature to find plants or hit trees with her axe is one way. Another way is to basically beat her frustrations out in cooking or baking foodstuffs. Resting under trees when only one can hear naturalistic sounds.

What’s the state of their living quarters? (messy, clean, etc.): That depends. Usually, it's a disorganized mess. Much to Elidibus's dismay, she can usually find things easier than him. If he ever tried to clean her home, she'd yell at him on not being able to find anything. It's not completely trashed, but enough to know someone lives here. As the Warrior of Light, she doesn't get enough time to do homely chores. So, it's mostly left go for weeks at a time.

How do they handle meeting new people?: Listelle usually is kind and friendly to people she meets. Though, it depends overall on the new person (or group)'s attitude, body language, voice tone, and facial expressions. If they come off rude and negative, she is more reluctant to be as nice back. However, since she is not the diplomatic person, she usually leaves all the table-talking to her fellow Scions. Will chime in with a few words, if asked. It all depends on the situation and people involved.

When facing certain doom, what’s their outlook?: It's...questionable. Try to keep a stoic facade, but inside she would be screaming. Or, she'd probably look at like this: Why not going out with a huge bang of glory, and take her foe(s) with her? As a healer, she understands death, but is afraid to die at the wrong time. Regardless, she will tackle it the best she can.

What do they do to relax?: Reading any books she has in her shelves. Have Elidibus tell her stories of the world before it was Sundered. Cooking and baking when she has the time. Gardening, when she has time, yet again. Sitting under trees listening to nature. Go to the beach when no one is around. Stargazing with Elidibus at night.

What’s their favorite outfit?: Her 'civilian' clothes with the Azem constellation crystal as a necklace pictured blow.

Traumas: It's been several over the last few years of becoming the Warrior of Light. From being a healer, she has had a hard time accepting she can't save everyone. The loss of Haurchefant hit her physically hard. He saw Listelle as herself, not just the 'hero' or a weapon to be used by the city-states. Still goes to visit his grave in Coerthas when she can. Seeing the turmoil Garlemald had done to Ala Mhigo and Doma's regions. Zenos yae Galvus, because he reminds her of herself at certain times. How they can relate, as much as the Raen wishes not to admit it. The entire events of Shadowbringers with fighting for another world to holding in the light corruption. Her aether is still a mess, even after Ardbert had joined his soul with hers. Ending Emet-Selch's life, even when she understood his plight and ideals. Having to fight and kill Elidibus; The ONE PERSON that understood and had true affection for her. Yet, he was tempered by Zodiark, so they were forced into battle. It still haunts her to this day that she may lose Elidibus forever.

About them as of current story patch: As of Patch 5.5, Listelle is struggling on what to make of seeing that being surrounded in light. Being told the Final Days is coming--which is no doubt with Fandaniel and Zenos--and the entire world is on her shoulders. This is stressing her out to no end, even with Elidibus trying to keep her calm. He is her main anchor to keep her grounded currently. With the possibility of going to Sharlayan, she is not happy. Possibly having to keep the untempered Ascian unseen, depending. For now, she is stressed and pacing about what to do.

History: Listelle was found outside the doors of a Miqo'te couple living in the Black Shroud. Only a single note saying: "I cannot care for her; I'm possibly dead by the time you read this. Her name is Listelle; Please raise her well". The baby was an Au Ra Raen female, but they had no idea if there was such a family nearby. Living mostly in an isolated area, they didn't get many visitors. Just some adventurers, botanists, conjurers, or miners that came through the area. Despite this, they willingly took the baby in. They had issues trying to concieve their own child, so Listelle would fill the void. The void of trying to have a child, which they had now.

The Raen would come to know her parents as Sizha Vebei, her mother, and Rehzih'li Vebei, her father. They lived in a small cabin in the Southern part of the Shroud. Away from settlements like Camp Tranquil and Quarrymill, they kept to themselves for the most part. They raised their adoptive child as good as any adoptive parents could. With the times that Rehzih'li would go to Gridania for work and supplies, he would ask around about Listelle's family. He usually came up empty handed as per usual. This went on for years, until the Seventh Umbral Calamity hit Eorzea.

Listelle was 16 summers old when Bahamut broke free of Dalamud to reign terror from the heavens. The Black Shroud went up in flames in several areas. Thankfully, herself and her parents survived, but lost their home to the flames. The family was devastated, but then they decided to move on to a battered up Gridania as other refugees. They would have to make a new life within the city-state.

To the five years leading up to ARR, Listelle practiced conjury within the Stillglade Fane. Her parents had taken up other odd jobs to support themselves and their daughter, so Listelle had decided to do the same. With people becoming adventurers, the Raen decided to do the same. With her aetherpool higher than most, she fit right in with the Conjurers' Guild. Even with weird looks, the Au Ra flourished under their guidance and care. She would learn how to properly harness healing magics, as well as learn to borrow from the very Elementals of the Twelveswood.

Eventually, Listelle would become more involved with restoration efforts to help Gridania. Only her efforts would soon become widespread. Widespread enough for a certain organization to recruit her to their cause..

Feelings towards others: (add or remove as relevant)

- Elidibus – Her official partner, who she had a rocky relationship for years. However, it changed much after his defeat by her hand on top of the Crystal Tower in the First. She loves the Ascian dearly and would do anything for him. He had been there as well for her during some stressful times, despite him being under Zodiark's influence. They confide in each other constantly, and is a major support pillar for Listelle.

- Emet-Selch [Hades] – Despite their brief interactions, Listelle came to understand more about the Ascians. Even if it was a hard pill to swallow, the brief details Elidibus mentioned to her started to make sense. Like pieces to the puzzle was finally coming together. She would indulge and ask him a lot of the Ascians' history, the Old World, and the like. As much as her comrades didn't like their Warrior of Light conversating with their worst enemy, she ignored them...sometimes. She was upset to end his life when they couldn't come to some sort of understanding. She still has sobbing fits over Hades' demises, because of the fact of the Azem constellation crystal she has. It was even hinted that he knew of something going on between her and the Emissary at the time. Listelle always denied it, but there was a twinkle in those golden eyes that he knew of something.

- Feo Ul - As much as Listelle appreciates them, she can't deal with their sudden mood swings. The Fae being the Fae, she can't understand the times she gets yelled at for not summoning them. Being called cruel and heartless by Feo Ul made her uneasy around the pixie. Just over the course of the Shadowbringers, she saw the good in the King of Faeries. They became the next Titania, yet, they still treated Listelle as their most precious mortal. After all, they WERE connected by a pact! Feo Ul was another pillar during her struggle to contain the light corruption within her. The constant affection and support helped keep the heroine to move forward.

- Alphinaud – Meeting him the first time made her want to rethink her choices. However, with his constant presence helping her with 'official talks', she has been grateful for him. He has come a long way and has grown. Listelle hates meetings, and groans anytime Alphinaud tells her she has to go. Because she is the hero, she has to go, despite her wild protests.

- Alisaie – It took a bit for them to grow on one another. Alisaie understands when Listelle has her moments. Moments she wants to hide, but also treats the Raen like an actual person. Not just the hero, not just the Warrior of Light. Listelle finds herself getting teased when Alisaie fawns over her, depending if she's down or upset about something. Mostly by Y'shtola though.

- Y'shtola – Their relationship is...weird at best. Y'shtola and herself have their moments when they get into arguments. However, she knows the Miqo'te woman wants the best for her. During the events of Shadowbringers, she was worried over Listelle's state of taking in the Lightwardens' corrupted aether. Y'shtola and Ryne were there for her as they journeyed to Emet-Selch's domain. Full of Light, the heroine had a hard time doing basic tasks at times. Due to this, Listelle appreciates her. Just doesn't like when she teases her about Alisaie and G'raha's constant admiration of her.

- Thancred – Saw him as a flirtatious man who she didn't want to deal with at all. He even made comments about her 'beauty' on several occasions to get under her skin. However, as the years went by, she began to learn he was a lot more. Mostly learned this during her time on the First with the others and Ryne. Just the interactions between him and Ryne made her heart ache for them both. Including when they had to go back to the Source.

- Urianger – This Elezen made her want to rip her hair out most of the time. Just the way he spoke, his mannerisms made her so confused. Had to get the other Scions to repeat what he said to her many, many times. Still not fond of his secrecy behind her back on the few times. However, she does understand it's a necessary evil, yet she hasn't completely forgiven him yet. Though, she does appreciate any vital information he can provide her.

- Tataru - Oh sweet Tataru...Listelle loves the receptionist to death. Another person who treats her like she's a normal person. However, how she manages to get things done makes Listelle double think herself. Like the time the Lalafell wanted her precise measurements to get her outfits made. Just the way Tataru brings up results is quite...scary. The heroine watches herself whenever she's around the Lalafell woman.

- Minfilia - The first person to understand she had the power of the Echo. All those years of not understanding random visions she had when she was a child. She learned more from Minfilia over the course of the years. Only to be upset when she disappeared, then find out she was connected to Hydaelyn. She looked up the Hyur and she still misses her from time to time.

- Papalymo - The duo of 'Yda' and Papalymo made her giggle at times. There were times she didn't quite understand the relationship between the two. She got along with the Lalafell fine. That is, until he sacrificed himself to contain the newly born primal at Baelsar's Wall. She wanted to stay behind and help him, but alas, was forced to flee with the others. She still thinks about him from time to time, hoping he's watching over them from afar.

- Lyse - Wasn't sure how to feel about her until after the whole incident at Baelsar's Wall. She had come to understand Lyse as someone who wanted to fight for her homeland. As they journeyed over Gyr Abania and Othard, she had come to see the woman in a new light. With how she handles matters in Ala Mhigo with Raubhan at her side, she hopes the city-state flourishes under their care.

- Gaius – Rivalry since taking on the Ultima Weapon. However, with tackling the Weapon Project, she put aside her dislike for him. In order to stop these machines of death, she would work alongside him. Listelle began to see him in a new light as the Weapons consumed most of the orphans he saved back then. With only Allie left and the Weapons done with, she hopes Gaius can find some sort of peace.

- Nero – Despite him working at the Garlond Ironworks now, she still finds him quite annoying. Though, she has to admit he has helped her on several occasions when Cid couldn't. So, she'd tolerate the man at best.

- Cid – Thankfully to the Garlean many times over. With his few interventions to save her from certain doom, to helping her take down Omega. The accomplishments and shit they've seen and done is enough for a novel or two....or several. She gets along with him fairly well.

- Haurchefant – The Elezen man from House Fortemps and Camp Dragonhead. It was no wonder the silver-haired male admired her from the start. Even wanting to rush in to stop her from taking on Shiva. Never do anything reckless again! He had said to her, which she had meekly agreed to. When fleeing from the bloody Ul'dah banquet, he was a pillar of strength during that time. With most of the Scions gone, she blamed herself for their loss. Alas, Haurchefant wouldn't have none of it. Always cheering her up with hot chocolate and word of encouragement. However, when he died in her arms saving her from a pillar of light...Listelle was devastated. She was depressed for a long time, and still is when she thinks about it. Still blames herself for his death, even if he wanted her to smile. "A smile better suits a hero"; A statement she won't forget easily.

- Aymeric – The first meeting with him..she wasn't impressed. She had heard Ishgardians were uptight and unwelcoming. As much as he sounded polite, she didn't trust him off the bat. However, as time went on, she began to realize he was much more than. Even inviting her to a dinner after Nidhogg's defeat, which she enjoyed. Just his question about what she wanted for herself? She knew not the answer to that at the time. Regardless, the Raen goes to visit him when she can.

- Estinien – This dragoon is so stiff was Listelle's first thought. She didn't exactly like him off the bat. However, the journey across Dravania opened him up to her. She did try her best to understand him, but it was hard. As the years went by, she had come to know he had paid respects to Yysale, which she appreciates. Even the time when she collapsed in the Ghimlyt Dark, trying to persuade Zenos/Elidibus to stop this madness. Estinien had rescued her, which opened her up to that he was more good than she thought. Now with him joining the Scions, more opportunities to know him better have opened.

- G’raha – Annoying scholar to deal with when looking for the damn aethersand. Made it a game, then she promptly yelled at him for making her run around more than she had to. Investigating the Crystal Tower together, she did appreciate his work. When he locked himself away in the tower, she was a bit sad to see him go. Listelle did understand why he had to do it though. During the events of Shadowbringers, she had her suspicions on who the Crystal Exarch was. She couldn't completely confirm who it was, until she was being consumed by Light Corruption. Despite all this, she scolded him greatly after winning the fight against Emet-Selch. She knew he had a deep admiration for her, but only saw him as a friend. Regardless, their friendship is still healthy and blossoming.

- Other Warrior of Lights - Appreciates their hard work and resilience to keep the fight going. No matter what, as long as there is a light, they can still prevail.

[Character sheet made by @lizzy-dotharl. Template taken from @earthlystar.]

[readerinsertfanfiction]

The Bae’st of All

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Kyubae the bae’st bae of all aka Kyubei

Prompt: Seeing how Kyubei is named after an alias that the real Mitsuhide Akechi used (Juubei) the chances of fans getting a Kyubei route from Cybird are slim. However, it is simply impossible not to fall for this man. He is too good. So here have my attempt at writing a route. 

A/N: Blame @silhouette-of-a-dream​ for the title and the fact that this is happening at all. I have a brain the size of a walnut. 

--- Also, let me know which answer you pick! Yes, I’m ambitious (or maybe dumb?) enough to insist on having a romantic and a dramatic route. The only thing you aren’t getting is smut, but those aren’t attainable anyway without paying. 🤪🤪🤪

Chapters: 

1.1 

To skip the introductions, I’m a fashion designer from the 21st century that somehow got stuck in the Sengoku era and earned the graces of Nobunaga Oda, the great unifier of Japan.

Needless to say, my life has been thrown upside down since saving Nobunaga. My week that started like a dream suddenly turned into an endless nightmare.

(Today, I’m escaping.)

In the days leading I had carefully weaved myself into the routines of the servants, asking for little odd jobs to help out in the castle. It helped relieve my boredom, but more importantly, it helped me look for an escape route, carefully observing the patterns of the guards surrounding the castle. It all resulted into a great plan that I had concocted, confident that I would be able to escape this place.

(Bingo!)

Just as I had expected the guards were on their lunch break, leaving the gate that led outside unguarded. How lucky I must be! Feeling all of my hard work paying off I quickly rushed my way over. It was closed, but not locked, meaning that I could open it with just enough willpower. Pressing myself against the heavy door, hoping that my weight would be enough to make it butch, I thus set out to work.

(Just a little bit, just a bit! I only need the gate to be slightly ajar, enough for me to slip through, oh heavens, please hear me!)

As I prayed for my success I felt my legs slip away underneath me in the sandy road, the doors of the gate still firmly locked.

(Should I have weighed myself before setting out to this plan?)

Bracing myself I firmly planted my feet down, pushing hard once more as I could feel the sweat form on my back, the sun relentless in its mockery as well as the gate stayed locked.

“Do you need some help, miss?”

A deep voice suddenly popped up near me, causing me to jump away with a squeal.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you looked like you needed help.”

A friendly-looking man spoke to me, his lips curled up in a cat-like grin as his stark blue eyes eyed me in amusement. He wasn’t dressed like one of the Oda guards, though his dark clothes weren’t bold enough either to be one of the lords.

“You’re not forgiven.” 

“And you are?”

“This isn’t what it looks like!”

“You seem to have trouble with the gate.” 

The mysterious fellow calmly spoke to me, though his tone was nowhere near as mocking as I expected it to be. 

“You could use the door here to the side? It is much easier.”

Pointing at a small hidden door nearby the man let go of another gentle smile at me, a pale finger laying against his curled lips, as if telling me something I shouldn’t know.

(Of course, the servant passages! Why had I not thought of them?)

Feeling silly I could feel a blush creeping on my face, a pout forming on my lips as I eyed the man who had so kindly pointed out my embarrassing mistake.

“Are you mocking me?” 

Squinting my eyes at the fellow I reluctantly question him. He hadn’t told me who he was, but from his eyes I could tell that the man knew who I was.

“My apologies if I come across as mocking, I was merely trying to help.” 

The stranger bowed to me in response, before raising again as he flashed me another kind smile. 

“You were trying so hard after all, and today is a warm day.” 

He was right, I was all sweaty from my earlier extertion, the bangs of my hair clinging to my forehead as I was sure that my back was wet as well.

(I must look like such a mess in front of this man!)

Feeling embarrassment flaring up I quickly tried to wipe myself, earning a mirthful laugh from the stranger who produced a napkin for me.

“Here, use this, no need to stain your clothes” 

He offers before his expression turns more stern, eyes flitting over to the empty corridors.

“Now, I suggest that you make haste, or else the guards will return from their lunch before you have the chance to breathe.” 

Offering me a hand as he pushes open the door through which he had come earlier.

(Am I really just going along with this?)

I still had no clue on who this man was, but I felt like I could trust him. Eagerly I reached out, taking his hand as the two of us fled the castle, running towards my freedom.

(I can’t believe I’m outside!)

With the Azuchi gates now just merely part of the horizon I rushed into the streets of the town, breathing in the air of freedom as my saviour let go of my hand.

“Thank you, er…?”

Realising that I never got the name of my helper I stare at my helper, wondering who exactly this man was.

He smiles mysteriously at me, only motioning for me to come further as he leads me deeper into town.

“We should get further away from the castle.” 

He tells me before taking the lead, his dark ponytail swaying along his back. Then, as if sensing my hesitation to follow him further he turns around. 

“Though, know that I don’t have any ill intentions with you, my lady.” 

The sudden formal address startled me, as I eyed the stranger suspiciously. He didn’t look like he was part of the castle, but he was strangely familiar with it nonetheless. What was he hiding, and why was he helping me?

Sensing my reluctance the male flashes that kind smile of his again, his eyes beckoning me to trust him as he offers his hand.

“I will explain everything when we arrive.” 

He promises me and I find that I’m inclined to believe the man, for his gentle smile and kind eyes are genuine and his hand pleasantly warm.

Weaving through the crowd of Azuchi he takes me down into calmer streets, passing by gates on which the emblem of a bellflower can be seen. A symbol that I vaguely recognise, though I have trouble remembering where I have seen this before.

The manor is spacious, though minimalistic in its decorations. Unlike the Azuchi castle I couldn’t discern the personality of this place, a cold and unsettling feeling rising up in my stomach as I wonder who this man was that had so kindly helped me. 

(Had I misread his gentle smile?)

Stopping in front of a door my helper lowers himself on his knees bowing as his head reached for the floor.

“Lord Mitsuhide.” 

At the mere mention of that treacherous name I feel a cold shiver go down my spine as I remember the bellflower insignia from before.

As the door slides open a man dressed in pale colours steps out, his white hair contrasting that of the vassal who had led me here.

“Ah, Kyubei, I see that you have returned with a little lady.” 

Mitsuhide smiles wickedly as I stand frozen where I stand, dread washing over me.

[reyescarlos]

24 from the prompt list pleaseeee 😊

god, i love this prompt sfm, thanks, nicole!

#24. “I know it’s the middle of the night, but can you come over, please?” [when you can’t sleep at night- of mice & men; this song never gets old]

It always takes him time to fall asleep but tonight, for some reason, it feels insurmountable. Usually Eddie can relax his tired, overworked mind long enough to trick it into shutting down. That isn’t the case now and it drives him mad the way he can’t get his brain and body to fall in line with each other. It’s one in the morning, a time when he should be like his son down the hall: fast asleep and shut off to the world for a few hours. But he can’t get that now, despite his best efforts.

Every sound outside his window is magnified. The weight of his blanket doesn’t sit right against his skin. The mattress underneath him feels like a stranger’s despite the well-worn groove it has made that fits his shape. Nothing feels right and it’s making the simple task of sleeping impossible.

Eddie reaches a hand to his nightstand, disconnecting his phone from the charger. He squints against the bright light of the screen, his eyes soon adjusting. He knows he shouldn’t reach out now. It’s late. He’s probably asleep by now and yet, Eddie’s finger hoovers over Buck’s name in his contact list, quickly pressing his thumb against the screen to place the call before he loses his nerve.

“Eddie, is everything okay?” Buck asks after three rings, concern clear as day in his voice. Eddie cringes; perhaps he should have sent a text instead. The suddenness of a late night call is more than enough reason to make anyone worry.

“Everything’s fine, everything’s alright,” he insists. “I just...I can’t sleep. I don’t know why I called you, that’s hardly your problem.”

Buck laughs softly. “I don’t mind it though. I was awake, too.”

Eddie wonders at what could be keeping Buck up but he doesn’t press the matter. He’s just grateful he was around to answer the call and is indulging him in conversation. It’s nice to have Buck’s voice in his ear but, admittedly, he would prefer to have his physical company instead. It’s why the next set of words go tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself and apply reason to the situation.

“I know it’s the middle of the night, but can you come over, please?”

He hates how desperate the request must make him sound, how childlike or maybe even foolish but he can’t help it. If Buck would even consider the notion for a second, Eddie would count it as a win. But he barely even takes that long; his answer is swift and clear.

“I’ll be there in ten. Hang tight.”

Eddie’s chest feels lighter already and he tries to reel himself in but he can’t help the sense of elation that floods through him. To have a friend like this who would drop everything just because he needed him meant the world. But if he’s being completely honest, at least to himself, he knows that the gesture carries more significant weight than that in his eyes. 

To simply matter counts for a lot. To matter to Buck means everything.

~*~

Ten minutes later Eddie’s phone buzzes against the mattress with a text from Buck saying he’s right outside the front door. Eddie hurries out of bed to let him in. Buck is in sweats and a plain white t-shirt but to Eddie, he may as well be dressed to the nines with how appealing he finds him. The shirt is form fitting, hugging each muscle in his taut frame. Buck’s face looks softer at this hour and it endears the man to Eddie all the more.

“Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to,” he says as he steps aside to let Buck in.

He’s been over more times than Eddie can even begin to count but never in the middle of the night and certainly never for a reason like this. Still, they move with ease around each other despite the fact that this scenario is a new one for them.

“Maybe not but I wanted to.”

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with that, he isn’t sure if he’s reading too much into it and coming up with a meaning to the words that isn’t truly there. He knows the danger that comes in wishing for impossible things. 

And yet, he hopes anyway.

Eddie’s gaze lowers briefly before pulling back to Buck’s face. For the first time he isn’t able to look into Buck’s eyes and read his thoughts. It’s so unlike them that for a moment Eddie’s brows furrow, as if he can concentrate hard enough to see into Buck’s mind. 

He gives up the effort with a timid smile. Now that he has Buck in front of him at this hour, he isn’t quite sure what to do. In an ideal world they’d rest and wake up in each other’s arms but the idea feels far-fetched. Calls in the middle of the night usually mean something else entirely but that’s not the kind of relationship they have with one another—though Eddie would be lying if he said he had never thought about it.

He figures Buck picks up on his uncertainty because he’s the first one to breach the silence, giving them some clear instruction and something other to do than stand in the foyer looking at one another.

“Why don’t we try actually getting some sleep? Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Eddie nods stiffly and waits to see where Buck thinks this should happen. Buck turns and for a moment, Eddie is so sure he’ll veer off to the living room but he walks right past the opening and down the hall to Eddie’s bedroom. The blinds are somewhat twisted  and there’s enough light coming in from the streetlamps outside to make it easier to see. Buck sinks onto the bed with such familiarity, as if this is a place he rests his head every single night. It makes Eddie’s heart flutter, the ease to which Buck operates inside his home. He always wants this to feel like a safe place for him, too.

Buck settles against a pillow, letting a deep contented sigh escape his lips as Eddie climbs into his side of the bed. Eddie stares up at the ceiling, so acutely aware of the warmth of Buck’s body beside him. At the start of the night this had seemed like a great idea but now that Buck is next to him, sharing his bed no less, Eddie finds his inability to sleep has just increased tenfold. He places his hands against his stomach, still keeping his eyes trained above him, his hands to himself. There’s no telling where he’d let them wander if given the chance.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Buck asks, turning to lay on his side in order to face Eddie. Unable to ignore the question and the shift, Eddie follows suit and faces him in turn.

Eddie shakes his head and sighs. “No, it’s not you. I guess my head is a bigger mess tonight than I thought.”

Buck searches his eyes and Eddie stares openly at him, the striped effect of the light through the blinds casting parts of Buck’s face in shadow. It isn’t enough to downplay the curiosity in his expression and Eddie realizes he’s pushing this conversation to places he isn’t sure he’s ready for it to go.

“I’m just glad you’re here. It’s nice...having someone next to me,” he says. “It’s even better that it’s you.”

This time of night makes his lips loose but he can’t find it within himself to regret the words he’s saying. 

Buck reaches out a hand and strokes his cheek. Eddie’s heart trembles like an aftershock. Surely Buck has to know what a touch like that would do to him. Eddie’s eyes close and he tilts his head just a bit, allowing his lips to rest against the inside of Buck’s wrist. He can feel the man’s pulse quicken against his mouth. The reaction is enough to make Eddie brave enough to look at him again.

Buck’s mouth hangs slightly agape. “Eddie,” he says softly, a plea or prayer Eddie can’t say for certain but in those two syllables there’s a want.

Eddie tips his chin forward and Buck’s mouth is right there, ready and waiting. Eddie starts out slow, tentative as if making sure this is truly what Buck wants. But from the grip of Buck’s hand on his hip and the not so subtle pull he makes to draw Eddie nearer, there’s no doubt this is everything the other man desires as well.

Buck’s mouth is warm and welcoming, inviting Eddie in. He allows himself to get comfortable, sinking into the moment fully. Maybe they’ll both regret this come morning but here in this present moment, Eddie wants to lose himself entirely, give everything he has and lay it at Buck’s feet. Yes, maybe they’ll feel differently in the light of day, but all Eddie can do is focus on the here and now.

He feels drunk off Buck now, so intoxicating is the rush that comes from being this close to Buck. After a few moments he breaks away, trying in vain to settle his racing heart. He looks to Buck, takes in his bashful smile and soft eyes.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been dying to do that,” Buck says. All bets are off at this hour and Eddie appreciates their ability to be candid with each other now.

Eddie buries his face against the side of Buck’s neck, breathing him in and placing a soft kiss there. He feels as Buck swallows thickly, stunned that he’s able to work his way under Buck’s skin, never mind to this degree. He pulls back and looks at him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to you doing it again,” he replies, surprising himself with boldness.

Buck chuckles, a throaty quiet laugh that reverberates in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. It’s easily his favorite sound. Buck leans in and kisses him deeply. Sleep has gone from being the thing he wanted most tonight  to the absolute last thing he wants now and Eddie couldn’t be more pleased with that.