#this is shamelessly self indulgent

[giggly-squiggily]

Forget Me Not (Black Clover)

Happy Valentine's Day! I wasn't planning on posting anything, but in a sudden boom of motivation, I've decided I'm posting a fic! Yunleo makes me soft, and I haven't yelled about them in a minute, so here we are! :D I hope you like it!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo

Summary: It's the day before Valentine's and Leopold completely forgot. He scrambles to put together the perfect gift for his boyfriend.

Leopold was in quite the predicament.

You see, it all started a mere few hours ago…

~~~

“Perfect-oh, wait- no. It spread.” Mimosa sighed, brows furrowing as she looked at her tray of misshapen heart cookies. “They look like potatoes!”

“Yum!” Leopold grinned as he snagged one, frantically shoving it in his mouth before he could burn his fingerprints off. “They taste good! Nothing like a potato.”

“Why did you..nevermind.” His cousin shook her head with a small laugh as she put the tray down, grabbing her cookie cutter in hopes of reshaping them before they cooled. “At least they taste good. I suppose that’s the important part.”

Leopold hummed, mouth too full to speak. He watched her curiously, tilting his head as she reshaped her handiwork. “What’s the occasion? Are you guys having a celebration or something?”

“You could say that- it’s for Valentine’s Day. I’m gonna frost these and give them to-” She looked back at him, blinking when he went pale. “Leo?”

Oh.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, NO!

How did he forget???

~~~

“What about… that’s not gonna work. Oh, now…no, that’s dumb!”

Leopold was pacing around his room, hands in his hair as he struggled to think of something. It felt like the hours of his day were flying by with each failed attempt at securing a date. Most if not all the local restaurants were full with reservations for the big day, and shopping proved fruitless.

Then there was the question of what Yuno even wanted for Valentine's day. Past experience proved asking was pointless; his boyfriend always said the same thing when asked what he wanted: “You.” It was cute and never failed to make Leopold blush as dark as his hair; but it didn’t make surprises like now easier.

That left only one thing remaining; a handmade gift.

And Leopold…wasn’t exactly a craft man.

“Why is making paper flowers so difficult!?” He cried in frustration after the seventh failed attempt, tossing yet another crumpled mess into the pile growing on his bed. Mimosa was kind enough to show him how to make them on such short notice, but it didn’t mean much in the end. Littered on the floor were various paper hearts he tried to cut out like a heart- but even those were lopsided and ugly. Little scraps of paper and a dash of glitter coated his room like a thin film with the redhead sitting in the middle of it all, fighting the urge not to cry.

“Come on, don’t give up! You’re a Vermillion! We don’t throw in the towel!” He grunted through a lump in his throat, closing his eyes as he willed himself to take deep breaths.

Paper hearts and flowers were out. He couldn’t cook to save his life, so forget that. Yuno was one of those weird people who didn’t like chocolate, so that wasn’t an option- what was left? What could he..

Opening his eyes, he peeked at the remaining paper and pens before him; survivors of his crafting storm.

And just like that- he had a plan.

~~~

February 14th. It was officially the big day.

Oh great Wizard King save him.

Throughout the day, Leopold was a mess of anxiety and excitement; alternating between joy of sharing his gift with Yuno and dread that he’d hate it. They weren’t meeting up until the evening; both of them had a day full of team tasks to do before then- giving the fiery mage even more time to panic.

What if Yuno saw right through him? His gift was certainly last minute; nothing flashy or intricate- Leopold feared it would come off as disappointing; leaving his boyfriend to question if Leopold truly did love him.

Oh god- what if Yuno hates it so much they break up? The idea made his legs feel heavy, dragging his feet up towards their usual spot as he went to face destiny. His heart raced a mile a minute, threatening to bust out of his chest.

I want to run.

I want to run away.

I can’t face you; I’ll only disappoint you.

He started to turn-

“Leo?” That voice- soft and low- called out to him. Leopold felt himself freeze, everything in him coming to a complete standstill. He had been caught. “Hey.”

“Y-Yuno! Fancy meeting you out here! Hehe, hi!” Leopold twisted to face him, smiling big in hopes it’d hide his fear. “W-What a night to meet! Hehe, so what’s u-up?”

“You invited me out?” Yuno raised a brow, concern in those golden eyes as he watched him sweat. “Are you okay? You seem a bit-”

“Happy Valentine's Day!” Leopold practically shouted, making them both flinch. There, he said it! Yuno blinked at him, eyes wide.

“Oh…Oh! Right- Happy Valentine's Day, Leo.” He smiled gently, relaxing as everything came together. “Is that why you invited me out here?”

“Huh? What- I-” Breathe! He took a shaky breath, willing himself to calm. “Yes- that’s exactly why! I have a-”

He’ll hate it.

Three little words was all it took. Leopold felt his voice fade out as he froze once more, paling beneath the stars. He..he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take that risk.

Yuno raised a brow, giving him a small encouraging smile. Leopold took it to his heart as he let out a shaky breath.

“Yuno…I have a present for you.” Leopold reached into his pocket, hands shaking as he went to grab said gift. He couldn’t even get his hand in his pocket. “But…I’m scared to give it to you.” At his boyfriend’s raised brows, he hurried on. “I’m just- I just really nervous all of a sudden cause it’s kinda last minute and I usually put more thought into things like this and I don’t want you to hate me-the gift and-EH!”

Fingers pressed into his sides out of nowhere, making him jump up with a squeak. He hadn’t realized Yuno got so close. “So you're saying…you’ve lost your nerve?” Yuno asked, something teasing in his tone as he pressed in more, making Leopold giggle and squirm. “In that case, I’ll help you find it.”

“Y-Yuhuhuhuno! Ahehahahaa- wahahahit!” This was certainly not how he planned tonight to go. Dancing in his boyfriend’s arms as Yuno gently tickled his ribs, his face pressed into his chest as he lightly batted at his chest. “Hahhahahang ohoohohn, I gohohohotta fihihiihnd it ohohoohohn my ohohohohohown!”

“Sorry, no can do. We’ll be here all night.” Yuno grinned as he pulled the redhead into his chest, wiggling his fingers against his belly and making him squeal. “Not that I mind that, really.”

“YUHUHUHNO!” Leopold thrashed in his arms, kicking dirt and stardust around them as he laughed like a goon. Out here in their usual spot, not a soul could hear them. It felt both freeing and devastating at the same time. “YUHUUHUHNO PLEAHHAHAHSE!”

“Please what?”

“DOHOOHOHN’T DHOOHOOHOHO THAHHAT!”

“Do what? You gotta be more clear, Leo~”

“TIHIHIHICKLE MEHHEHEHE- NHOOOHOHO WAHHAHAHIT!” Leopold all but shrieked when Yuno bit his shoulder, blowing a raspberry against the clothed fabric. Low and behold- he found yet another spot on him that was ticklish! “YUHUHUHUNO!”

“What? I’m just doing what you asked me to do!” Yuno grinned, moving his fingers back to his sides as Leopold calmed. “Do you feel better now? Ready to share with the group?”

“Ahehaha! Fihihihine, fhihiihhine! Ihiiihhih’m reahhhhahahdy!” Leopold gasped out, falling back against the other with a soft sigh as Yuno supported him. “Yoohohu’re teehehrrible!”

“Hm.” The wind mage smiled as he pressed a kiss against Leopold’s cheek. “You love me.”

“I do.” He replied automatically, his voice hushed with sincerity. He felt Yuno jolt in surprise; not quite used to hearing it. It gave Leopold the push he needed. “Hey, can you let me go for a sec? It’s important.”

Yuno did so, watching him as the redhead took a few steps away. Turning back to his boyfriend, Leopold reached into his pocket, pulling out the folded paper. “I wrote this and…well, I know it’s not much, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to read it to you.”

“Poetry, Leo? Who would have known.” Yuno teased good naturedly, leaning back on his heels as he waited. 

“I’m not much of a poet- but I tried.” After another breathe, Leopold began to read.

“First of all; Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s our first, and I wanted to do something special for it. However- this is where I must confess. I kinda…forgot.” Leopold winched. Yuno gasped, clutching his pearls.

Then he chuckled, easing away Leopold’s worries.

“Sorry about that. I’ll remember going forward. But this letter isn’t about my forgetfulness; it’s about something much more important…it’s about you.

“When we first met; it was during my sister’s bootcamp. I remember when I first really looked at you- I thought to myself: ‘This guy’s really cool. And he looks strong. I have to defeat him!’ I declared you my rival and set my goal to surpassing this really cool guy with fluffy black hair and eyes like sunlight by any means necessary. I challenged you to many duels, and not once did you turn me down.

“I think that’s when I started to fall for you. I can’t pinpoint an exact moment; maybe it was the way you carried yourself- or how you always talked about your siblings with such love. Maybe it was during a battle- or how you declare your ambitions like obtainable goals rather than distant dreams. I thought my admiration for you was simply that; a feeling of mutual respect for my fellow mage.

“But then you looked at me and I realized it was more than that. It was love. A love that burned within me like a burning candle wick- new and different than anything I’ve felt before. It grew and grew until there were times I simply couldn’t be around you cause all I wanted was to tell you how I felt. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same, so I kept that burning wick to myself for months.

“And then…you returned my feelings. You said you liked me back! I couldn’t believe it! Sure- things were a bit rocky at the start, and there was a moment I was scared my wick would blow out, leaving me cold within, but you kept it burning and you still do.

“Did that sound good? I’m not exactly good at this poetry stuff. The point is- I love you, Yuno. I love your ambitions and your dreams, I love your faith in me when I don’t have any left. I love when you smile at me, when you take my hand in yours and never let go. I love how you look at me when you talk- like I’m the only one here. I love how passionate you are about what you want to do with your life. I love your bravery, your kindness, your competitive spirit and how you always make me feel loved and treasured. Your love comes as easy as breathing, and I want to keep breathing it in, letting it do whatever air does to our bodies- something about blood cells and whatnot.

“I probably killed the vibe with that last part; the point is- I love you, and for as long as I live- I’ll always love you. Even in death I’ll love you. My heart is yours for all eternity. Happy Valentine's Day, Yuno. Let’s have many more.”

Finishing the letter, he stared at the page, suddenly too shy to look up. What would he see when he did? Would Yuno fight off laughs? Would he be bored? Disgusted? Disappointed? He was scared.

Be brave.

He looked up- and stared. Yuno was crying.

“Babe..” He whispered, but that’s all Leopold got out before he was engulfed by arms, a cloud of pine and forest invading his nose as Yuno clung to him. “Yuno?”

“Not much of a poet my ass.” He choked out, a wet laugh coming though his voice. “Leopold…That was so…I love you so much.”

Those words were like coming up for air after nearly drowning. More than that- it felt like he was ascending. His body felt light with relief, almost numb as he brought them around his boyfriend- grounding him and filling him with warmth. “I was worried you’d hate it.”

“Never. I loved every word.” Yuno pulled back, eyes shiny with tears. Leopold reached up, brushing them away with his thumb. “I hate that I don’t have the words to describe how I feel right now…”

“More than words?” Leopold asked, earning another wet laugh. He closed his eyes as Yuno leaned in, capturing his lips with ease. Where words failed him, Yuno’s kiss told him everything he so desperately wanted to hear. His hands ran through black tufts of hair as Yuno grasped his hips, pulling him against him until only the pounding of their hearts were between them.

~~~

“I feel kinda bad now. I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day.” Yuno confessed after some time. They were lying beneath the stars, his head on Leopold’s chest as the redhead played with his hair. “I kinda forgot too.”

“What?” Now it was his turn to clutch pearls. “Yuno!”

They looked at eachother. Then they were laughing.

“We’re a match made to be!” Leopold wheezed, shaking beneath Yuno as he giggled himself silly. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Yuno smiled, scooting up so they were nose to nose. “I still want to give you something. Is there anything you want?”

“You.” Leopold grinned, watching Yuno flush pink, starting to laugh once more as he lightly slapped his chest.

“Jerk- that’s my line.” He laughed again, the sound muffled by Leopold’s lips on his. He was melting against him in minutes. “I still want to get you back.”

“You already did. Your love for me is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.” Leopold smiled, pressing his forehead against Yunos. “What more do I need when I have you?”

Instead of words, Yuno kissed him again and again.

Even if they both forgot the rest of them; Leopold would always remember this Valentine’s Day.

Thanks for reading!

[togament]

Thinking about Ume and him fucking your insecurities away.

He gets it. You’re only human, after all. We all got our demons and some days they scream a little louder than they usually do—so you come to your boyfriend for some advice and much needed comfort.

Both of which he is very much willing to provide.

But what was once an innocent cuddle on your sofa with him pressing gentle kisses and assurances into your skin has evolved into him fucking himself into you slowly, heavily breathing into the space between your neck, both bodies tangled in a lotus position. He’s taking his time exploring every inch of your body with his hands with so much adoration and care with each caress.

Intimate.

“Fgh—I-I’m so lucky t’have you, beautiful,” he grunts with his forehead pressed against yours, staring into your eyes with such reverence you feel yourself melting a little. His strong hands gripping your hips securely, bouncing you onto his thick, throbbing length. Unhurried. Reassuring, even. “Breathtaking. Absolutely-haah! Fuckin’ perfect—“, he breathes, pulling back to look at you properly. God he’s falling for you all over again. “Can’t believe I-I get t’worship ya. What a goddess.”

But before you retort, before you tell him he isn’t right, before you argue with his cock buried deep inside you, he presses his lips onto yours with his tongue dancing against yours, thrusting up into you harder, faster. His hold on your hips ever steady.

Ume has occupied all of your senses. So much so that you’ve forgotten what you were about to say.

He’s gonna make it his life’s mission to make love to you until you forget your insecurities.

Until you finally see what he sees in you.

To make you feel beautiful in your own skin again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

[bunnelbaby]

Be the one who makes the self indulgent age regression content you wish to see in the world!

[phoenixcatch7]

In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.

But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.

Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.

His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.

And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.

From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Before Sunrise

Dick Winters x night owl! reader

Summary: morning cuddles. that’s it that’s the plot

Notes: the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed

Word count: 1018

I felt a sense of dizziness and then the unmistakable unpleasant sensation that comes with an abrupt awakening. Despite how dark the room was, I could barely keep my eyes open for a more than a second.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to wake you” a sweet whisper came from the darkness.

“Dick?” I held out my hand towards his side of the mattress and he immediately took it. “Is the sun even out yet…?”

He quietly chuckled. “Not yet, actually. A bit early even for me.”

I groaned and weakly attempted to pull him close to me by his arm. “Can you stay until I fall back asleep?”

“Of course” He shuffled closer, the chaotic sound of sheets shifting about heaven to my ears at that moment.

I somehow managed to meet him in the middle of the bed, snuggling up against him, my head coming to rest on his chest.

His left arm wrapped gently around my waist, his right coming to stroke my hair. He planted a slow kiss on my forehead and I hugged him tighter, enjoying his warm presence surrounding me again.

“Do you want to watch the sunrise?” He was still whispering, but an hint of excitement now colored his voice.

I looked at him. My eyes felt a little less heavy and had finally begun to get accustomed to the dark. He was smiling and looking fondly at me.

“Sure, alright” I nodded, pulling myself up on my elbows and turning onto my back so I could look towards the window. “It’s not like I get many chances to”

“Wait, I have a better idea” He smirked.

I shot him a questioning look. In response, he just stood up and scooped me into his arms. After a few steps, he quickly set the curtains aside and with an effortless kick moved the armchair from the foot of the bed directly under the window.

Only then he sat down, allowing me to fully lean on him but holding me close in the way that always made me feel so safe, to prevent me from falling.

I put my arms around his neck, legs lazily falling over his own and the chair’s armrest. Outside the window, the sky was colored with soft shades of pink and orange that were growing more and more intense.

I laid my head in the crane of his neck, feeling his ever steady heartbeat vibrate on my skin.

“I promise it won’t take long” He said gently stroking my shoulder with the outside of his fingers. His tone turned worried: “Are you cold? Do you need me to get you a blanket?”

“Not at all darling, this is fine” I smiled against his collarbone, knowing that he could feel that too. “Actually, I’m more than happy with my current situation”

“Mmm is that so?” He teased.

“Oh yeah” I Insisted. “You make a very comfy chair”

His laugh reverberated all through his chest and he gave me a little squeeze to show his appreciation.

“I could think of worse ways to start my day too” He suddenly raised up my chin and leaned down to capture my lips with his. The kiss was soft and sweet like the rest of our morning.

“I love you” He said when it was over, an inch from my lips, noses almost touching. His eyes were open and limpid.

As much as I was used to hear him say that from time to time now, my heart still dropped. It was always an event.

“I love you too” I cupped his cheek with my right hand, losing myself in the moment and into the water-green eyes of the man that I loved.

At this point, I had almost forgotten that I’d ever been accidentally woken up way too early for my tastes. I laid my head back on my favorite neck spot with a happy sigh, hand grabbing his shirt to nuzzle even closer to him.

“Keep your eyes open, I wouldn’t want you to miss it”

“Yessir” I said, jokingly bringing my right hand to my temple in a salute.

“Is that mockery I hear in your voice, private? You know I won’t stand for that” He feigned outrage, sounding entirely amused.

“Oh yeah?” I grinned. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Mmm I’ll have to think of an appropriate punishment” He snuck his hand under my pajama shirt and slowly moved it up and down my side, his touch on my naked skin making me shiver for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Not that I mind your idea of punishment, major, but if you keep this up I might be too distracted to notice the sunrise” I chuckled and he laughed with me.

“That’s right, I’m sorry” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.

We stayed quiet and focused our attention on what was happening outside the window. The sky was now brimming with beautiful shades of color and it didn’t take long for the sun to finally appear over the horizon, and I sat up straight so I could properly admire it.

I was left speechless. Being a certified night owl I hadn't seen many sunrises in my life, but I felt that this one was quite extraordinary. Or maybe it was being in his arms that made it feel so.

“It’s so beautiful” I breathed.

When I finally glanced back at him, I found his gaze already on me, admiring my every reaction instead of the natural spectacle in front of us. “Almost as beautiful as you”

I felt myself blushing red like it was our first date. “You’re lucky I already married you or I would have needed to propose to you after that”

He laughed. “Well, for what it’s worth, I would have said yes”

“Good for you” I joked, finishing the sentence with a yawn I couldn’t hide.

He took notice: “Don’t tell me you still want to go back to sleep after that”

“Oh yes, I do” I smirked. “And you’re coming with me”

[clouvu]

No thoughts head empty just Them

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

(Personal fun hc, not meant for anything other than enjoyment)

Legolas: *sees a group of elves do something less than steller*

Legolas: you know, sometimes i wonder why my grandfather felt the need to try and destroy the world. Or at least all the elves-

Legolas: and then i see things like this and i get it.

Elrond, on the way to break it up: *splutters* i’m sorry, Oropher tried to do what?!? When!? I don’t remember this!

Legolas: *blinks* well yeah, it was way back in the beginning, before Orome. Don’t worry he’s better now. Grandma punched some sense into him AND it had the benefit of solidifying them 1. as elves not to be messed with and 2. Capable leaders that could get shit done.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai is going to be the death of him.

This has been a long-time conviction of Rei's, and yet of all the ways that could go, this really is not how he pictured it.

Leading contender for cause of death: irregular blood flow, leaving him without the oxygen necessary for higher brain functions.

Where has it gone? Mostly to his cheeks. And the tips of his ears. They're burning.

(And some of it may have gone further south, pooling warmly in his stomach).

Akai's wearing the sweater Rei made and it's so oversized he's got cute little sweater paws covering his hands. Rei would like to faint now, please. Please. Please?

He closes his eyes in hopes this is all just a hallucination caused by lack of sleep (ignoring the fact Akai just woke him up, actually feeling well-rested for once). But when he opens them again, Akai's still there, eyebrow raised. Lit in the warm colours of a new dawn, and covered in a sweater Rei knows is incredibly soft, because he picked the wool himself. Holding a steaming cup of something.

Hm. It smells like sencha.

Temptation itself, in the morning cool.

Rei curses, resigns himself to the new reality he gets to enjoy now. Okiya Subaru is one thing, the identity deliberately crafted to be harmless and cozy, but Akai Shuichi should not be looking this adorable. Maybe Rei did suffer that concussion, after all.

.

There's some overlap in their watch cycle, so Rei busies himself trying to get the excess energy out and make breakfast. He's definitely not ignoring Akai. Which would be difficult anyways in the one room apartment they're using to lay low.

It's going to be bland, even with his best efforts. There's barely any spices in stock, just lots and lots of dried and pickled foods, stuff that keeps. Not that Rei's expected anything more from Akai - okay, maybe a little, considering he's trying (and failing) to learn how to cook. Then again, he probably didn't figure he'd actually have to use the safehouse, and they've had worse. That weekend in Rikubetsu comes to mind. It still sends shivers down his spine.

Besides, the food isn't actually the problem - though they'll need to be conservative with it. No, the real issue is the shitty insulation. And terrible heating. Rei shivers in his sweater and huddles closer to the stove. It's not like they can call a HVAC repairman without drawing attention to themselves. Who thought it was a good idea to do this sting in the winter?

Whatever. They'll only need to stay here for a couple of days, until their allies have finished the witch-hunt, and then they can leave this safehouse behind them.

.

An uneventful breakfast and several hours later it's Akai's turn to sleep. He's mostly been sitting quiet and unobtrusive in the corner chair, keeping an eye on the street below. Rei knows the look, has seen it many times. Mostly on Rye, back in Osaka. Perching on the place with the best view, making as little noise and movement as possible. Coiled up and ready to bolt. The apartment isn't safe, and the mission isn't over. Akai won't rest, not really, until the all-clear. Idiot. As if he's not injured, doesn't need to recover.

"Akai. Your turn." He tries, and is roundly ignored. Akai must've heard him - there's nothing to listen to, in here. If he's somewhere else, mentally, well. Rei's never been good at quitting. Or alright with being denied attention.

"Akai." When the sniper still doesn't react, Rei walks up to him. Grabs a hold of his chin, tipping it up, forcing the other to look up at him. There's no resistance; either Akai is too tired to object, or he actively allows the touch. Rei's not sure which is worse. He feels Akai flinch as he straightens - must be the strain on his injured ribs. The sniper stares up at him, jade eyes dull and lifeless. The shadows under his eyes are deep enough to blot out the sun. Where's his stupid mirth, the barely concealed amusement? This won't do.

"Go lie down. Even if you can't sleep, your body still needs the rest. You're useless like this." How long has it been since he last slept?

"I can still-" Akai starts to object, eyes flicking to the window, to the street below.

"No. I've got this." Akai's so close, and so painfully tense, and Rei really doesn't know how to get his message through Akai's thick skull. So he tries for the closest approximation. He leans down that last little bit, until their noses touch, their foreheads rest together. Akai's skin burns against his own. "Rest." A single word, too gentle to be a command, but Akai still obeys. Long, soft lashes flutter against Rei's cheek, feather-light, as green eyes slip shut. The ghost of a sigh brushes against his lips. The pressure against him increases as Shuichi loosens into his touch.

Rei allows himself to indulge in the warmth of their shared space for a few shared breaths. It shouldn't be this hard to pull away. "Not here, idiot. The bed."

It's unclear whether Akai actually needs the help, or if he just likes to force Rei to do extra work, but he finds himself supporting the sniper to the bed. Helps lower Akai to the mattress as he settles in, careful not to aggravate his wounds. Cocoons him in the blanket. And if he's being a little too considerate, well, Akai looks about ready to pass out, so it's likely he won't notice or remember.

.

Rei finds himself checking in every once in a while, making sure Akai's still breathing. The man can be eerily quiet when he wants, and in slumber he almost seems dead. The first couple of times Rei saw him asleep, he found it disconcerting. By now, he knows how to spot Akai's signs of life, the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Of all the things that happened in the last 48 hours, Rei's mind returns to the most harmless offense - Akai in a too-large sweater.

How could that happen? He knows Akai's features by heart, by touch and measurement, and he's pretty sure he's counted out the rows and numbers correctly. Okay, fine, he might have picked out the design and worked on it in a hazy fugue state, but that is only slightly worse than his usual operating conditions. The result shouldn't be such a disaster. Maybe elder Tsuruyama will know where he went wrong.

(Because he did go wrong. No amount of stupid, heady pride at seeing Akai wear what Rei made for him with his own two hands can dissuade him from that. Rei tries to shove down the satisfaction spreading warmth throughout his body, right down to his toes. But the feeling has been building for weeks now, and is getting harder to ignore each day. Rei pretends he doesn't see the signs, doesn't know what they mean. They can't afford the distraction.)

Thankfully, his musings are interrupted by a sharp intake of breath, followed by a series of shallow gasps. He scans the room, wondering if Akai's noticed something he missed, when, with a quiet thud, the thick blanket slides to the floor. Akai's twisting and turning on the bed. Oh, great, the genius wants to agitate his wounds and freeze in one go.

Rei abandons his watch uneasily. But it's the middle of the day, and anyone coming after them right now would have to be stupidly brazen. Besides, he'd probably not notice attackers anyways. Akai's panting and thrashing is way too distracting.

Night (well, day in this case) terrors are not unusual for people in their profession, and if they are a regular issue for Akai, that might explain his general reluctance to get to bed, as well as the permanent bags under his eyes. But at this rate, Rei will need to intervene, or Akai will further injure himself.

"Don't go inside-" Akai's words, low and sharp, stop Rei dead in his tracks. Oh. They should've done a debrief before heading to bed. He's willing to bet he can guess pretty accurately what holds Akai in its grasp. It takes him a deep breath and a conscious effort of will to shake off the image of the abandoned factory, the smell of dust and mildew. The echo of a gunshot.

"Akai?" Rei continues his slow approach, gentle, non-threatening. Though Akai's eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling, Rei doubts he can see him.

"At least wait for backup-", Akai pleads, unsteady. He's reaching out, grabbing at empty air. Grinding his teeth in agitation.

Alright. What did Hiro say? Considering Akai's taller, and loathe as Rei is to admit it, a better fighter, trying to wake him is most certainly a bad idea. Even if he weren't stronger, there's a gun on the bedside table, and Rei's not keen to learn what Akai's instincts look like if he wakes up disoriented and with too much adrenaline in his system.

So. Soothing might or might not be possible, but he has to try. "Akai. Shhh, it's all right. You got to me in time. We made it out. I'm here. I'm safe."

'Because you took a bullet for me', he doesn't say. Bulletproof vest or not, Akai's carrying the reminder of his actions on his chest, in cracked ribs, tender skin, and colourful bruises. It's grating to be in his debt, yet again. The first time might have been accidental, more about Scotch than Bourbon, but there's no doubt that this time, it was all about Rei. Who has the sickening suspicion Akai would've acted no differently, had he not been wearing body armour.

It makes no sense why he would go this far. There's people waiting for him - his siblings, his coworkers, the Kudos. Besides, he's the Silver Bullet, meant to take down the organisation. And here he is, throwing it all away for nothing. Who really cares whether Rei survives? He's long resigned himself to the fact he might not.

Hiro comes to mind, and Rei immediately rejects the notion. Maybe it's uncharitable. Things surely were difficult for Hiro, but the longer Rei has to think about it, the less he can forgive him. If he truly had cared about Rei, he would've found a way to let him know he made it. It's been three years, after all, easily enough time to settle into his cover. It shouldn't have fallen to Akai, perceived threat and even enemy at the time, to bring this revelation.

Rei's glad Hiro is safe, make no mistake. But there's years of grief and guilt between them, the loneliness growing roots so deep it's isolated him from the one person that mattered the most. The betrayal of the trust he thought they shared stings every time he thinks about his best friend. If he can even be called that, these days.

Akai thrashes, and Rei barely manages to grab a hold of his arm before he's decked in the face. Stupid. Here he is, getting lost in his own issues, while the other agent needs his support. He owes him that much, if not more.

Making sure he keeps Akai's arms in view, Rei puts the gun into the bedside table's drawer to avoid any accidents. He sits himself down at the corner of the bed, next to the agent's head. The stupid knit cap has slid off, revealing sweat-slick curls of dark hair. Rye's hair used to be so fine, smoothed out by its length, obviously well taken care of. The texture now, as Rei cards his fingers through steadily, is wet and oily - Akai should wash it tomorrow. With all that sweat, he'll need to shower anyways, though the motion might be straining his injuries. It might be good to offer to help - with the hair, that is.

"Not you too, not so soon-" Akai still seems agitated, but the repetitive stroking of his hair grounds them both, little by little. At least he's not kicking out anymore. "Akai, listen. You're not getting rid of me that easily, all right? And they're not getting you, either. You're here, with me, safe and sound. We're both here." And freezing, he notices. Akai's shivering beneath him, seeking his touch, his warmth. Rei feels like an idiot. He really should've grabbed the blanket first. Then again, Akai probably would've just shaken it off again. He'll fetch it when Akai's calmed down a bit more.

He scooches closer. Rubs circles into Akai's shoulder and upper arm, trying to create warmth through friction. Running his hand along, he's glad to feel the mohair he picked is as soft as he had hoped.

"No, please, Rei-" A stupid slip-up, inappropriate not just because it happened in front of the enemy. And yet the PSB agent can't bring himself to be too mad about it. It's not like Aperol lived to tell the tale. Rei had taken the shot in the window of opportunity Akai had bought him, and, well. He might have cared more about dispatching Aperol quickly so he could focus on a downed Akai. He's already mourned Akai once before; he'd rather not do so again, in the foreseeable future.

"Shhh. I'm with you." He squeezes Akai's shoulders, trying to make sure the other knows. He shouldn't indulge like this. Can't encourage Akai's behaviour. But duty demanded he go into that warehouse, and he's really not sure he would've walked back out without Akai.

Either Bourbon's cover is blown, or Rum has decided it's time to clean house and deal with loose ends. Whatever the case may be, killing Aperol will have burnt any goodwill he might have had, if it existed at all. He can't go back.

Except, it hits him: it doesn't matter. If the Kudos' plan worked, there's no place to go back to. He's survived Gin's distrust and Vermouth's games. Rum's relentless chase. He's still standing. Because of skill and luck and the allies Edogawa Conan has collected. Five long years undercover. They're finally over. He doesn't believe in miracles, but this comes pretty damn close.

Of course the job is not over, not by a long shot. There's stragglers to round up, witnesses to interrogate, statements to give. Evidence to submit and analyse. Going up against the Karasuma corporation means their case needs to be airtight, or they'll wiggle out of it with good attorneys. In all likelihood, everyone involved in this operation will need to sleep with one eye open for the rest of their lives.

But the fact remains that it looks like there will be a future, after all.

And it doesn't look terribly bleak.

Three years ago, he'd thought his world had ended. But he'd kept going, hanging on for duty - and the need to corner Akai for answers.

It just might have been worth it.

For late-night talks, shared cigarettes and stolen sweaters. For this beautiful, brave, reckless idiot, lost in fitful sleep beside him. For the hope of a better future, forgotten and rekindled.

He can't bring himself to say it, not even when Akai's asleep in his arms, unpleasant memories barely kept. But he knows it all the same.

'Thank you for keeping me alive to see this day.'

.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

[blackjackkent]

Narrator: Tonight's troubled rest is, as ever, overwhelmed by your killing fate. You dangle above a dark precipice, one move away from falling.

Narrator: Another watches your body while it is possessed by the night. You do not dream alone.

The blinding pain and fear of the dream fades, and as Rakha slowly comes to consciousness, trembling with the revelation of who and what she is, she finds that she is not alone. This is not precisely a surprise; Wyll sometimes sits up with her as she sits tied up in her bedroll, shivering with restless nightmares. Lae'zel, too, often prowls at her bedside, watchful for any loss of control.

Tonight, though, it is Jaheira. The older woman sits calmly nearby. Both of her scimitars are out in her hands, rested across her lap, and she watches Rakha stir with calm attentiveness. Her pose is relaxed, but there is a tension in it like the coiled spring of the panther she can become, in the moment before it pounces.

"Dark dreams?" she asks neutrally as Rakha lifts her head.

(A/N: I'm so goddamn proud that I called out in this post that Jaheira had absolutely clocked Rakha's whole situation, because it set this up perfectly entirely by accident. XD )

Slowly and awkwardly, Rakha wrestles herself into a sitting position, watching the Harper guardedly. But Jaheira makes no move to attack, just continues to watch her intently.

"I think I can guess," she goes on, one eyebrow quirking up. "Visions of blood on your hands. The blood in your veins, perhaps."

Rakha goes utterly still. Her eyes widen, and for a moment, utter surprise replaces all the fear and agitation. You know what I am?

Jaheira's lips twitch in a slight, rueful smile. "For all the gifts Bhaal's children inherit," she murmurs, "a peaceful night's sleep is not among them."

(She remembers so many nights on the road. She remembers Caden's torment as he learned who he was, as it threatened to overwhelm him. She remembers many things Caden does not even know she saw.

The last days before their battle against Sarevok; Khalid's low murmur to her as they heard Caden weeping in his bunk. "S-s-should we go to him?" And her slight shake of the head, because what comfort could she possibly offer to that good, kind boy who had just learned there was murder in his soul?

The nights on the road to Dragonspear after Boarskyr Bridge, nights when Caden would wake with a low cry in fear of some monster that had found him in his dreams. She could sense shame in him in those moments, and never spoke to him of them until it was far too late to matter - but she and Khalid watched over him in the night, a comforting presence just out of view.

And the nights in Amn after Spellhold... the worst nights of all. Nights when her bed was cold with Khalid's absence and her thoughts in turmoil, and Caden's soul had been ripped out of him, leaving an empty shell behind in the form of her friend. Nights when he became a monster and had to be beaten into submission. Nights when her deep-set reserve at last failed her, overwhelmed by grief and exhaustion, and she would have welcomed her friend's comfort and to offer it in turn. But there was little left of him to hear her, almost swallowed up by the beast that haunted his mind, and Aerie haunted the bedside of his empty not-quite-corpse like a ghost.

She watches Rakha and sees traces of that same haunted darkness in her new companion's eyes. Caden eventually managed to slip the noose of his heritage and find peace in the forests of Faenya-Dail. She does not know if Rakha will have the strength to do the same - but she is older now, and she will not make the mistake this time of being silent.)

Rakha swallows. Her throat still feels dry and tight and resists speech, but she manages to croak out the question anyway. "How... could you possibly know?"

Her emotions are so tangled it is hard to put names to them. Relief, perhaps - for Jaheira is one of those she trusts most in the camp, and if Jaheira knows, perhaps she will know what to do. But there is also shame, guilt, terror; she feels exposed and frightened and lost. And angry, too.

How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?

But Jaheira just shrugs. "I don't. Not yet."(*) She climbs slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving Rakha's. The scimitars hang loosely in both her hands, their blades just skimming the hay-strewn ground. "The dreams alone do not concern me," she goes on after a slight pause. "It is what waking deeds they might inspire."

She peers at Rakha searchingly, her lips drawn into a tight line. "Are you truly your own master?" she asks - and her tone is a strange melding of gentle warmth and cold steel. "What is it you feel, when Father's dreams come calling?"

Rakha flinches. Father. She has never before had that word to put to the urges that drive her. She has not yet accustomed herself to it.

She wondered once - after learning of Shadowheart's past - if she herself had a father that she would drop everything to save. Now she knows the answer, and it makes her skin crawl. Her father is the source of everything that is wrong and broken about her. His influence sits in her head and drives her to kill.

"Helpless..." she mutters. The sense of shame deepens. Her head ducks, but she can feel Jaheira's eyes on her. "Like I can deny him nothing."

She can see the flicker out of the corner of her eye as Jaheira's blades twitch - but do not lift. "Then would you call it mercy," Jaheira says softly, "if the next night I never let you wake?"

Rakha says nothing - but they both know the answer. Yes.

Jaheira sighs, studying her for a long time - and then the blades move again. With a sharp movement, she steps to Rakha's side, flicks out one wrist... and severs the bindings on Rakha's hands.(**) "This is your father's true legacy," she says bitterly. "Not his children, but the fear they plant in us. The savagery it blossoms into."

Rakha draws her hands in front of her, rubs at the sore place on her wrists where the ropes chafed. Then she stands slowly and looks down at Jaheira; for a moment the two of them stare at each other, a long moment of unspoken understanding.

The half-elf is so much smaller than she is, but in this moment Rakha feels much the smaller, for she is acutely aware of the trust Jaheira is giving her... and the fact that Jaheira would end her in an instant if that trust proved misplaced.

"In another time," Jaheira says slowly, "with another of your kind, we found a better way. I would dearly like to find it again."

(Rakha is not Caden, no. She never will be. She did not have the benefit of Gorion's training; there is more of the animal darkness in her than Caden ever had, even in his worst moments. But Jaheira has seen her fight it, has seen the moments of softness in her with Wyll, has seen the strange sincerity with which she asks questions and searches for the right path. In spite of all her caution, Jaheira likes her. If there is a way that does not lead to her death, Jaheira will find it.)

"Tell me what I must do," Rakha whispers. Her voice sounds small in her own ears.

Perhaps Jaheira can hear how lost Rakha feels, because her expression softens a little with a slight, reassuring smile. "You would not be the first to turn the taint in your blood to your advantage," she says quietly. "But there are barriers a Bhaalspawn must overcome, first."

She hisses out a heavy breath between her teeth, her gaze going distant, looking past Rakha and through the wall behind her. "Those of your kind. Orin... I am sure you already know that so long as she lives, she will never stop hunting you."

(She remembers the Five. The Bhaalspawn under Amelyssan's direction who sought to obliterate all those who shared their tainted blood. They nearly succeeded; indeed, she thought they had. How do any remain? How does Rakha live, and Orin? How did Bhaal, dead god that he is, create yet more spawn to do his bloody work?)

She shakes her head sharply with a tight frown. "It might be that you have to turn and face her. You cannot change that. All you can choose is how you meet her - as another bloodied child of Bhaal, or as yourself."

She lifts her head and again meets Rakha's eyes, and the steady certainty in her expression meets Rakha's agitation and calms it like water over fire. "All *I* can offer is the promise that, should you choose to do so, you will not meet her alone."

She waits until Rakha nods. Then, in a single smooth motion, she sheathes both scimitars and sits down on a nearby haybale. "For now, take what rest you can," she says - and now there's an unmistakable gentleness in her tone that Rakha has never heard before. "I will watch over you this night."

Rakha tilts her head to one side, and something like black humor flickers through her eyes for a moment. "To watch over me?" she asks. "Or to protect against me?"

Jaheira's lips twitch with muted amusement. "I suppose you'll have your answer when you wake in the morning."

It's not much reassurance. But it's something. The dreams of blood still wait for her... but it's a comfort different even from Wyll's support to know that Jaheira's eyes are on her, that the Harper knows what she is and hasn't turned away.

She curls back into her bedroll, her hands free, her eyes twitching restlessly under their lids. And Jaheira, true to her word, waits and watches in the darkness, like a wolf on guard before its den.

----

(*) I looked at the dialogue files for this scene. This line appears to be bugged, bc in-game it got skipped, but I like it so I'm including it. XD

(**) Artistic license, obviously. All the references to Rakha being bound up at night are my particular headcanon.

[rosepetalgold]

i look at you (and i dream)

Summary: Roman tells Logan what he’s thinking about and discovers his dreams might be closer to reality than he’d dared to imagine.

Relationships: Romantic Logince

Warnings: None! Pure domestic fluff!

Word count: 962

Notes: Title inspired by Mikrokosmos by BTS

Read on Ao3 Masterpost

-

“Roman, are you even listening to me?”

Roman blinks, emerging out of the colorful tapestry of his thoughts to find Logan staring at him from where he’s paused chopping vegetables for the dish he’s concocting for dinner, one eyebrow arched in a silent question.

“Sorry, my love,” he says sheepishly. “I just got caught up daydreaming.”

Logan sighs, shaking his head not unkindly as he returns to his cutting board, the slightest upturn of his lips betraying that he mustn’t be too put out by Roman’s lapse of focus. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for your ambitions of fame and grandeur to wait until I was done telling you about my day.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking about any of that.”

“Work, then?”

“No, not that either.”

“Then what on earth were you daydreaming about?”

“You.”

Logan casts him a sideways glance, clearly baffled, even as his knife doesn’t falter in its steady rhythm. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Roman breathes, not even trying to keep the wonderment out of his voice at the truth of such a simple statement, still unable to quite believe that this was real, that Logan was here, was choosing him, was his. “But I look at you and I just can’t help but dream.”

But his words only cause the puzzlement furrowing Logan’s brow to deepen. “I don’t understand. What could you possibly be dreaming about?”

Roman laughs under his breath, answers dancing over one another in his mind like so many bits of dandelion fluff caught in a breeze, too many to ever count. Where to even begin?

“Everything.”

He shifts closer, gently finessing the knife from Logan’s grip and laying it on the counter before taking his lover’s hands in his own.

“I dream about waking up next to you every morning and watching the sunset next to you every night. I dream about seeing you land your dream job and finally being recognized for that endlessly brilliant mind of yours. I dream about buying a house together out in the country like you want and us making it our own. I dream about surprising you with homegrown roses on idyllic summer mornings and slow dancing in the dark with you on starlit winter nights. I dream about all the days I’ll come home to you and all the ways I’ll fall even deeper in love with you and all the countless quiet moments I’ll get to just be by your side as we grow old and gray.” He laces their fingers together, marveling inwardly at how readily Logan reciprocates the touch, palms warm and steady against his own. “I dream of us, of the life we’ll lead, of the future we have together.”

Logan only stares at him for a long moment, gaze searching his own as a hint of pink begins to tinge his cheeks, and Roman can’t help but smile softly at the sight, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the bloom of color.

“You really think about all that?” Logan’s voice is slightly choked, words scarcely more than a whisper, and Roman draws back, a twinge of worry flickering to life in his stomach, but Logan’s grip tightens around his, keeping him from retreating.

“Of course I do. You’re it for me, Logan; why would I ever dream about anything else?”

Logan doesn’t even bother replying, simply tugs one hand free from Roman’s fingers, wraps it around the back of his neck, and pulls him into an ardent kiss.

Logan had never been as much of one for words as Roman was, had always tended to struggle a bit to vocalize his deepest feelings, but Roman doesn’t need a long-winded reply, not when the press of the other man’s body against his is all the answer he needs.

Logan, though, apparently isn’t content to let his reaction do all the talking for him.

“I know that not many people would call me a dreamer,” he says as he pulls back, gaze so open and vulnerable in the golden rays of the late afternoon light that Roman’s heart squeezes in his chest. “But I want that too. That future. The two of us. You.”

“It’s ours,” Roman vows. “And I’m yours.”

They meet in the middle this time, an intoxicating press of lips that tastes of hopes and dreams and happy endings, and oh nevermind all his indulgent imaginings about what might be, this is all Roman could ever want.

If this is his reward for daydreaming, he really needs to do it more often.

Entirely too soon Logan is drawing back again, rosiness now fully blossomed across his cheekbones.

“We don’t have to have a house in the country,” he says as if his brain has just caught up to Roman’s earlier words, the delay in processing entirely more endearing than it should be. “I know you like the city.”

Roman shrugs, sure the expression on his face can only be described as utterly besotted as his hands find a home in the familiar curve of Logan’s waist, pure affection melting through every inch of his body. “I can compromise as long as there’s no bears.”

Logan chuckles, low and bemused.

“No bears,” he promises, and with the way his eyes are sparkling with amusement, what else is Roman supposed to do but kiss him again?

“Love you,” Logan murmurs against his lips, the words still enough even after all this time to send butterflies dancing through Roman’s stomach like it’s the first he’s ever heard them. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” he whispers, and here, with Logan in his arms, present and future inseparable from each other for one breathlessly suspended moment, he can’t dream to ask for anything more.

-

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @darth-does-stuff

[delivish]

Kenny had been the one to suggest they all go to Cali for spring break this year. 

Surprisingly, his idea hadn’t been met with much resistance; California wasn’t too bad of a drive between five people, and even Kyle, who could find the flaw in even the most mundane plans, had to admit it sounded fun: they could go to Disney and Universal Studios, walk around Hollywood, check out the beaches, and maybe take a quick trip up Pacific Coast Highway if they still had time. 

Today had been a beach day, sunny but not too hot, the sky clear and blue and endless. Kenny had insisted they all go to Venice, but Butters had been the only one excited about getting in the ocean, it seemed. 

Kyle had been much more interested in wandering the beachfront boardwalk, nosing amongst the stalls and soaking up the bohemian vibes, even as he tsked disapprovingly. Stan had been content to mosey along beside him, wistfully eyeing the bodybuilders lifting weights in the California sun, their overly-tanned bodies oiled up and glistening. Eric had set himself up under an umbrella with sunscreen liberally daubed across his nose, his sunglasses perched on his head, the expensive headphones his mother had bought him hanging around his neck, and a bucket of Church’s chicken balanced on his lap. He was practicing “radical self-care” right now, Eric said; and he'd warned him under no uncertain terms that if Butters bothered him, he would tie an anchor to his sorry ass and drown him in this fucking ocean; theenks. Butters chuckled; Eric was such a kidder. And Kenny…

Butters squinted along the beach. Kenny had been getting on everyone’s nerves singing Katy Perry’s ‘California Girls’ slightly off-key, and he’d disappeared practically the moment they arrived. He could be anywhere—or in anyone—by now. 

[peculiardollart]

This is just a theory so I can't confirm it but I suspect if I spent more time working on my webcomic and less time going "teehee what if I drew some OP characters as if they were in my webcomic" I'd probably get more work done on my webcomic

[arval-larva]

[writeouswriter]

Is the problem that I'm being too self indulgent with my plots that they start to lose coherency or is the problem that I'm not being self indulgent enough and thinking too hard about trivial things like whether they make sense rather than whether or not they kick ass severely and look good as the backdrop to my daydreams

[a-lonely-dunedain]

great news! Ethedis found the best napping spot (a big soft Ranger)

in other news I'm finally figuring out how I actually wanna draw Corunir. decided to make his hair floofier and I'm really liking it :)

[trianglesimpfordpines]

recently learned that ford’s outfit is basically just copying carl sagan and man. ford is way too cool to be out here cosplaying another scientist. so i decided to make a low-effort edit of “what if ford had his own fashion sense (and also it was more sci-fi-looking)”

alternative caption: “Say Dipper, did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”