#very silly and low effort but drawing it made me happy :)

[dailykeiji]

today’s keiji is: happy birthday 2 Me

[vvallent1ne]

Taking What’s Not Yours

sebastian solace x gn reader :))

ehe. the hyperfixation is bad …

i honestly wrote this because a friend asked me to, so thank you to them!! 😊

wc: 1,401

small description: you haven’t seen sebastian in a good long while.

warnings: hugging, sexual innuendo(s)??, just a lot of tension overall tbh, seb is kinda 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, but nothing actually happens besides hugging you FREAKS, seb and reader both love each other 😊, small relationship doubts from reader, honestly just a very anxious reader altogether, seb is tall as fuck, reader is a human prisoner!!, reader is GENDER NEUTRAL !! 👏👏

song that inspired fic: taking what’s not yours by TV Girl !!

This run around the Blacksite was particularly taxing. You’d been here for hours and you still haven’t gotten past door 45. The entities really seemed to have it out of for this time around, appearing more frequently than usual.

Maybe they were all just cranky today. You understood.

To make matters worse, you had accidentally flashed Eyefestation with your flash beacon out of fear and enraged it. Great. Just what you needed. You had also previously opened a false door out of pure impatience and got a big chunk of your health taken off. You were low on health and patience today.

Luckily, you knew that Sebastian’s room would be coming soon, and this realization brought a heat and hue to your cheeks. You were excited to see him. Him, a monster you once feared, turned into the man you were excited to see. You sighed to yourself, knowing that you were stupidly falling head over heels.

Soon enough, you had walked into room 49 and immediately heard the familiar sound of the metal of Sebastian’s vent hitting the concrete flooring. It used to startle you, but now, it brings you a sense of comfort.

“You know where to find me.” His sirenic voice cooed from inside the vent, practically drawing you in. You could feel your face slipping open with an idiotically happy smile as you began to maneuver down the vent.

“I know where to look.” You responded, your glee evident in your tone. How many days has it been, you wondered, since you had last seen him? Did he miss you, as you missed him? Did he share the same aching of your ribs, the enclosing feeling that you were far from the one you loved? You hoped he did.

You paused at the eye of the vent, right before his office, and furrowed your brows in worry. What if he wasn’t happy to see you? What if he was enjoying his break from you, a “silly human” as he liked to call you.

Were you reading too much into this, or too little?

“Hey now, you know I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” He teased, the last pasty said under his breath, but still heard by you. Your cheeks warmed, questioning if he truly did mean it in that way or not. You shook your disruptive thoughts out of your mind and continued to crawl outside of the vent and into Sebastian’s office.

You turned your body around so that you could land on your feet instead of your face. You had learned from a previous encounter that Sebastian was never going to let you live that down. Hell, even if you died, he wouldn’t let go of it.

“Woah now, don’t hurt that pretty face of yours again.” He chuckled, the memory flooding back into his mind. You noticed the small compliment thrown in with this teasing. Pretty, huh? He should look in a mirror. The realization soon set in that he had called your face … pretty? You felt your entire body heat up once again. Why was he being so flirtatious today?

Throughout you two’s relationship, though only having begun a few weeks ago, Sebastian had never been this charming with his compliments or as… direct with his innuendos. This side of him seemed like a completely different person. What had changed about him since you were gone?

You made a conscious effort to ignore his fluster-inducing compliment and made sure to land securely on your feet. You looked a bit to the right, expecting him to be in his normal place.

Instead, your eyes caught view of him practically right in front of you, his height towering over you like a human to an ant. That was also, coincidentally, how you felt around him as of now. Like a small, crushable ant.

You had to crane your neck all the way up to look him in his three eyes, and you noticed that each of them lingered only on you. It felt weird to have so much of his attention on you all at one time, you were practically squirming under his vice-like gaze.

“Long time no see,” You spoke, trying to alleviate the awkward tension you were feeling. Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem with it. You moved around him, heading towards his tail to hopefully be cleared of his stare, but it was of no use. “How’ve you been?” You asked genuinely. You were told once that the best way to get someone’s attention off of you, was to get them to talk about themselves.

However, Sebastian just stared at you, as apathetic as ever. You guessed that he saw through your tactic, and you were now suddenly very nervous. He slithered his tail away from you, right as you were about to buy a first aid kit for your wounds, and came towards you with his upper body.

He lowered himself down as far as he could without discomfort, and his arms were around you in an instant. You stood there, still, unmoving, for at least seven seconds. Your mouth gaped and your eyes shot wide open, not at all expecting his gesture. You eventually snapped out of your dazed state and wrapped your two, music smaller arms, around his neck.

Despite being a combination of a bunch of cold-blooded fish, he was still the warmest thing you’ve ever felt. You practically melted into the hug, and he grasped your waist with two hands to keep you upright. His other hand came to the back of your head, pushing you into his clothed chest and playing with your hair.

So this was heaven, huh?

You’ve never felt so loved, so doted over, so cared for. All of the horrors from outside these four walls faded into a distant memory in the back of your head. That’s what Sebastian did. He protected you, inside and out, and held you like you were the most important thing in the world to him, and you held him the same. Because it was true. You were his world, and he, yours. Any and all of your doubts about him from your time away dispersed the second he touched you, held you, loved you.

In a place where there was no love to be found, he gave you the supply you had been missing. And so did you.

“Cut the small talk, I’ve missed you so.” He spoke in a hushed whisper against the shell of your right ear. You reddened immediately, however you weren’t sure if it was because of his words, or the fact that he was so close to you. Maybe both.

“Really?” You spoke, a teasing lilt in your voice. You hadn’t even realized how sultry it had sounded until it came out of your mouth. Your eyes widened m, fearing his reply, and praying it wouldn’t come with more teasing—you don’t think you could candle any more of it.

“Of course I do, I have no customers as great and pulchritudinous as you.” He replied, every word sounding genuine. You weren’t quite sure what that last adjective was, but you were blushing anyway. Damn him and his attractively wide vocabulary.

“You best not.” You spit back, unbridled jealousy obvious in your tone. You were too tired to try and hide it. Plus, Sebastian figures out everything you seem to be hiding regardless. He seemed to see through you almost, as if you were made of glass.

He gripped your hips tighter at the covetousness dripping from your words, his claws lightly grazing your skin through your diving gear.

“Oh, is that so?” He chuckled before smugly smirking down at your face, buried in his rumbling chest. “My, do you truly believe that anyone else could make me feel the things that you do, mon chéri?” He finished his teasing question by prying your head off his chest, using his third hand to grip your smaller chin, forcing you to look at him when you answered.

“I don’t know how I make you feel…” You trailed off. His eyes on your face, your cheeks, your lips, made you doubt anything you had said. You wanted him to approve of you so, so badly.

He looked down at you with an almost predatory hunger. His eyes became half-lidded as he leaned down to face you head-on.

“Would you like me to show you?”

[torture-themed]

Mister Lockwood's Daughter: Chapter Four

@whumpyourdamnpears

Many thanks to my darling beta reader/editor @demonroo-arts

content: made to beg

Simon asks politely, Clementine finds joy in the absurd, Mister Lockwood is pleased.

The next few days followed much the same pattern: Simon administered medicine and read to Clementine while Mister Lockwood looked on and seethed. Simon, true to his word, did his best not to overstep or misbehave again. Despite his efforts, some dark part of him was getting angry. He silenced that part of him as best he could–something told him fighting back would end very poorly for him.

“She considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish–” Simon paused as Clementine giggled. He couldn’t help but smile for the first time since his kidnapping. “What’s so silly about that? Can’t a fish be a footman?”

“But they don’t have feet!” Clementine cried. She fell back into her pillows in a fit of giggles. “Oh, I would like a fish footman. He’d do everything I told him to–as long as I spoke fish!” 

The clock on the wall struck one. Mister Lockwood rose to his feet. Clementine sagged in her seat as he took Simon by the shoulder.

“Can’t he stay? I don’t understand why he needs to leave everyday. Where do you go, anyway?” Asked Clementine. Simon glanced up at Mister Lockwood, anxiety in his eyes, 

“Simon has to go back to his room. The longer he stays here, the more likely he is to get sick. Isn’t that right, Simon?” Mister Lockwood shot a warning glance down at his prisoner.

“Yes. I need to stay safe, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow.” Simon raised from his seat, and with a goodbye to Clementine allowed himself  to be escorted back to his room. He hesitated in the doorway. He turned to Mister Lockwood abruptly. “May I ask something of you?”

“You may.” 

“You’re going to have to get rid of Clementine’s toys once she’s better. They carry the disease on them. I was hoping…” Simon paused. Mister Lockwood raised his eyebrow. “I can draw quite well, or so I’ve been told. I was wondering if you’d allow me to make paper dolls for the girl. She could keep them by her bed, and they’re cheaper to dispose of than regular dolls. I’d need pastel crayons, and–”

“And scissors. You’re asking me for scissors.” Mister Lockwood’s voice was flat.

“Yes. Sir, I understand why you might be hesitant, but I assure you–I’m not scheming to attack you. I’m not stupid, I understand the situation I’m in, and–” 

Mister Lockwood cupped Simon's cheek, cutting him off.

“You’re going to ask me. Politely. Then perhaps I’ll consider it.” He said, softly enough to make Simon uneasy. Simon flushed with embarrassment. 

“Please, sir. I promise I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want to make your daughter happy. It’d only be for a little while–you could take the scissors away when I’m done. Please.” Simon begged. More frightening than any of Mister Lockwood’s rage was the surge of affection in his eyes. He rubbed his thumb across Simon’s cheekbone. Simon pulled his face away, only to be dragged back by Mister Lockwood’s hand cupping his other cheek.

“Since you ask so prettily… Yes, I’ll allow it. I'll have the supplies sent up later today. Say thank you, now.” Mister Lockwood said. His voice was low and full of fondness. Simon couldn’t stand it.

“Thank you, sir.” Simon whispered. He wished more than anything to get away from this horrible place, from this horrible man. He closed his eyes and willed it all away.

Mister Lockwood released Simon’s face. He left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Goodnight, Simon.” Mister Lockwood said through the door.

Thick paper, pastels, and a pair of scissors were delivered an hour later. Simon got to work, drawing ladies in finery and gentlemen’s wardrobes and a footman with a fish’s face. He slept with the scissors on the mantelpiece, burning a hole in his mind.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

White blossoms - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

If you like this fic, please remember to reblog so that others may also see it!

Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, some more angst. Shenanigans. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

@deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81

It was the agonizing pain in your shoulder and leg that awoke you from your slumber, and the scalding heat that soared within your body that prevented you from drifting off again, yet despite your efforts, your eyes did not open. You were only vaguely aware of your surroundings: you were lying on a bed, a blanket draped over the lower half of your body, and two voices in animated conversation relatively close to you. One of these voices belonged to Tristan, the other… your mother. You were home! You had made it! With that realization, there came no triumphant feeling, no sense of victory, or even a glimmer of hope, for the fever surged through your body once again, this time pulling you under and swallowing you into the darkness.

When you regained consciousness, the bickering had stopped, as had the roaring fires that had scorched your body from the inside out. The significant pain in your chest and leg seemed to also have subsided quite a bit, but in no way enough to put you out of your misery completely. The most comforting sensation, however, was the soft, beautiful singing next to you – presumably coming from the same person that pressed something warm and damp to your wounds. The pain it caused made you wince, and your brows draw together in a frown, both form agony and confusion.

Very slowly, you opened your eyes, the light in the room – as dim as it was – uncomfortable at first, to such an extent that it was impossible to see anything for a short while.

“Melot?” That voice. You had dreamt of that voice countless times since you had left, and now you finally heard it again. Tamsyn. There was nothing in that moment that you wanted more than to pick her up and hold her in your arms as you promised her you would never leave her side again – the problem was that you couldn’t seem to move no matter how hard you tried. It took every bit of strength you had in your body to smile as she called your name again, and then your eyelids fell shut again as she continued to tend to your wounds.

“Is he awake?” you heard your mother ask from a corner of the room.

“His eyes were open,” Tamsyn replied, “but only briefly. We should let him rest.” And rest you did, always in your dreams kept company by memories of your soon-to-be wife.

“I am terribly sorry we have to meet like this,” you said, startling her as you came up behind her.

“There is no need to apologize, my lord,” she said timidly, “I understand.” As soon as she moved to curtsy, you placed your finger gently beneath her chin and tilted her head up towards yours.

“Please don’t bow to me,” you spoke softly as you looked into her eyes. They were large, and a stunning shade of brown, you noticed, and they looked absolutely perfect combined with the collection of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

“As you wish, my lord,” she replied. Her words made you sigh, a sound which seemed to instil fear in the young woman.

“Call me Melot,” you asked her, smiling kindly as she repeated your name, her voice trembling slightly as she skipped your title for the first time. After that, neither of you spoke for a while. It felt silly, to stand there and say nothing, but you felt so utterly unsure of what to do, that words eluded you completely.

“Say something, please,” you said after a while, a low chuckle to your voice so as to hide your embarrassment at your inability to keep a conversation with the lady in your company.

“You have a beautiful horse,” Tamsyn blurted out, taken aback by your request. Her remark made you laugh louder, causing her cheeks to turn pink.

“She is, isn’t she,” you replied, happy to engage in whatever conversation that would stave off your nerves at this time.

“Is she yours?” Tamsyn inquired.

“She is,” you said, explaining how you had raised her over the course of the past four years. “Do you ride?”

“Oh, not if I can avoid it,” she said shyly, avoiding your eyes as she confessed: “I’m rather useless at it.”

From that moment on, each conversation you had with her was slightly easier than the one before, and after only a short while, you had found yourself reaching for her hand as you walked through the woods together. You were careful not to be seen, but it turned out to be impossible to hide from your friends – which is why you decided not to try. It took a few weeks of secret meetings before you dared to broach the subject of Tamsyn with your uncle, who at first rejected the notion of your courting a peasant girl wholeheartedly. It wasn’t until, through some fortuitous twist of fate – which, in your life, most often carried the name ‘Beryan’ – Tamsyn had been asked to sing at a feast in the castle, that the king learned of her beauty and talent, and he had granted you his blessing to court the young woman.

That morning you were taking care of some chores around the house that you had fallen behind on as you continued to help Yselle with the injured men. A week had passed since the warriors had returned, but Melot had yet to wake up. A few times he had opened his eyes, or he had moved his fingers slightly as you tended to his wounds, but he was never able to speak or move. The most you had received from him so far was a smile that had cost him more effort than it had been worth. Every day, you saw him twice. His mother still disallowed you access to his chambers for reasons beyond caring for him. It irked you, but only slightly, for as much as you longed to sit by his side all day and care for him, you knew it would be improper for you to do so. Thus, you decided not to push the matter, as lady Rhian was already nearly continuously occupied with the strenuous task of keeping Beryan away from her son. Beryan, on the other hand, grew more agitated about the situation with every passing day, snapping at you every time you visited her to tell her how he was doing.

“I can’t believe she refuses to let me see him for a minute!” she shouted as she paced through the corridor outside his room after having been shown the door for what must be the hundredth time.

“Young lady!” The door opened again, and lady Rhian poked her head around it to glare at Beryan. “I would strongly suggest you mind your manners! Make yourself scarce, now!”

“Can I stand in the doorway?”

“No,” lady Rhian snapped. “I have been far too patient with you, Beryan. Disappear, immediately!” You assured Beryan that Melot was going to be alright; that his wounds were healing nicely, and his temperature had returned to normal. It was strange, offering her this comfort while you yourself dreaded the moment his injuries no longer required you to check on them daily. You were certain lady Rhian would banish you from his quarters the moment your services as a healer were no longer required. As unhappy as you would be about not getting to see him anymore, you knew you would not complain: Melot’s mother was indulging you already, it would be foolish to tempt the fates.

While you worked on cleaning and dressing his wounds, you sang to him, as you always did. So far, he had opened his eyes twice, but neither of those times had he been conscious enough to reply to your or his mother’s queries. Other times, he had been conscious, but too weak or in too much pain to speak. This time, after applying the compress to his leg, you took his hand, softly caressing it as you finished your song.

“Please, continue.” Were you imagining things? Upon looking at Melot’s face, you concluded you must have been. His eyes were closed, and he looked as fast asleep as he had all these days before.

“Tamsyn, please.” This time, you witnessed the movement of his lips, though that did nothing to erase your conviction that you were slowly going mad.

“Did he just speak?” lady Rhian asked as she joined you by Melot’s bed. If she had heard it, too... The chances of you both seeing – or rather, hearing – ghosts were slim.

“I did,” he answered, his eyes still closed. You looked at lady Rhian as you felt Melot’s fingers squeeze your hand lightly. To stay put and not throw your arms around his bare shoulders to pull him close, took every bit of strength you had within you. Instead, you tightened your grip on his hand, gently dragging your thumb over the back of it, as you started singing again. Melot hummed contently, making no further efforts to speak. You watched his face while you sang, your smile widening as his eyes slowly opened.

Your singing continued as you waited for the poultices to do their work. Now that he was awake, taking care of his wounds would likely cause him more pain than it had before, when he had still been unconscious, and you dreaded the moment you would have to salve his injuries.

“God almighty, dear, I shall be glad to call you family,” lady Rhian said softly, putting a hand to the side of her son’s face, her voice breaking as she spoke to him. “My son, I was scared I had lost you for good this time.”

“Only the good die young, mother,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lady Rhian took a cup you knew to be filled with the willow bark infusion you had instructed her to make, and lifted it to his lips. As he swallowed a sip, he grimaced.

“That is absolutely foul,” he groaned.

“Shush, it’s good for you,” you berated him, swatting at the back of his hand.

“God, you women are all the same, aren’t you?” he complained – fruitlessly, of course.

You removed the compresses from his wounds after some time, and as you had expected, he winced and moaned every time you touched him.

“Melot! Stop moving right this moment!” you exclaimed after he had turned away from your touch for the so-manieth time as you tried to apply ointment to his wounds. “You are making this impossible! Stop!”

From the other side of his bed, his mother chuckled softly. “You will make a fine wife, my dear child.”

Melot continued his whining as you finished with his leg, and somehow managed to be even worse about the wound on his chest. Eventually you managed to dress his wound – if it hadn’t hurt him so much, perhaps you would have dragged it out a bit so that you may have had the chance to speak with him for a while longer. You began to gather your things, getting ready to leave, while lady Rhian walked to the door to investigate a noise she heard in the hallway. A noise that turned out to come from Gerant, Elowen and Tristan, who had come to check on Melot. Lady Rhian invited them into the room, and you hoped with all your heart that Beryan couldn’t see it.

“Sit with him while I fetch his uncle,” she said, taking your hand in hers for a moment before disappearing into the corridor.

“Kiss her, you fool!” Gerant hissed after he shut the door behind Melot’s mother and listened for her footsteps to disappear into the distance. Melot tried to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto his bed, leaning in to kiss him, instead. When your lips touched, something inside of you felt like it was finally home again; as if after many weeks of floating around in the air, your feet touched the ground at last. You heard the door open again and pulled away from Melot abruptly, thinking you were done for. Oh, if the king were to see you like this! Luckily, it wasn’t lady Rhian who had returned with king Marke, but rather Beryan, who had finally been given her chance to sneak into the room to see her friend.

“Mely!” she said – probably without thinking, because Melot scowled at her and Gerant and Tristan snickered.

“Did she just call him Mely?” Tristan asked his friend, who answered his question affirmatively.

“Dear God, you look awful,” she said as she sank to her knees next to the bed.

“You sound surprised,” Melot rasped, his voice as hoarse as before, but now even weaker, signalling that he was growing tired.

“Your mother wouldn’t let me see you,” she explained.

“And I still do not permit it!” Everybody in the room froze as they heard the voice behind them. “You, young lady, cannot be in my son’s bedchamber unattended, especially when he isn’t properly dressed!”

“Mother,” Tristan interjected before anyone else could, “might I call to your attention the fact that you invited Gerant and his wife into the room with us to act as chaperones?” His remark seemed to calm lady Rhian a bit, though she was still fuming at seeing Beryan in the room. Behind her stood king Marke, equally upset at the display before his eyes.

“Get out of here, now, lady Beryan,” he spoke slowly, “and I will tell no one of this. You will not see my nephew again until he is out of this room, understood?” “Yes, your Majesty,” she said timidly as she bowed to the king and hurried out of the room.

[dunktape]

i'm actually blushing kicking my feet smiling stupidly here in my living room watching u guys react to my posts and everything so quickly ouhhh ,, thank you guys so much for the support I HABE 100+ FOLLOWERS ALREADY

a bit of rambling underneath the cut ,,, x'3

when i just started drawing digitally i was just doing tweening animations which didn't get a lot of attention ,, but then i made a new group of friends who i shared my work with — to which one of them introduced me to tumblr !!

have just been snooping around for a year or two , not really interacting with anyone ,, started a mogai / editing blog with my puppyboy — quite exhausting for me actually , but posting was fun , so i went back onto this account

started off pretty slow and also with a few problems — low motivation , pretty sad ,, even then TWO SUPER POPULAR CREATORS reblogged my stuff and im so grateful for that

when i started uploading emotes i actually got so much more attention ??? woah ???? you all just started invading my blog chewing and drooling on everything /silly ,,, and it's been so fun to draw ur requests , answer ur asks , talk to everyone ,,,

the black cat emotes are so silly and cute !!? the yellow guys are so tiny i wanna squeeze them they're so eepy and stupid ,,, /aff

SOMEONE ASKED FOR FENNEC FOX EMOTES ,,, FENNEC FOX ,,, /VERY POS anon whoever you are thank you i almost forgot they existed 🫡🫡 i'm gonna enjoy drawing them a lot

ALSO gonna work on the fnf emotes first ,, ive never drawn these characters but boy am i excited to try !!!

the fact that garfield anon has even NOTICED ME is such an honour ,, what did i do to deserve this orange cat lover on my blog /aff

might draw yippee emotes/gifs too after i finish the other two emote requests !!

overall just thank u guys so much for ur support ,,, im currently going through some things , have been through things that im still trying to process and cope with as well , and my biggest distraction is forms of art ,,, and it really makes me happy to know u guys like my art too , it's comforting even — like i haven't put so much effort into any of this for nothing . bc now it has an actual purpose — to share with u guys . really sorry for the sappiness but really , thank you so so much

[wisteriashouse]

honesty.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: comfort, fluff

word count: 1714

remarks: not me back at my loving/comforting kyoujurou bullshit because i need it damn badly and no one will feed me

It takes a near death encounter for Kyoujurou to realise that he may have been selfish.

It isn’t even him who experiences it - the lower ranked kinoto he was paired with for a mission had the claws of a demon come dangerously close to his neck, the sharp edges scoring a thin line of red right over the man’s jugular. Kyoujurou had made quick work of the demon before sending the man home swiftly to his wife, but seeing the way the woman cry tears of worry over her husband had made his feet falter on his own way home.

Does he make you worry like this?

You welcome him back with a tired smile just as the sun begins to peek over the horizon in the distance, a light blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you lean up to kiss him on the cheek. He gives you a smile of his own in return, but the corners of his mouth feel heavy as he does, weighed down with his worries and thoughts. 

Still, he doesn’t speak a word about it until he’s done with his bath, toweling his hair dry while seated on the bedding. In the next room, separated by thin paper walls, Kyoujurou can hear the clanging of pots and smell the fragrance of roasting sweet potatoes - his favourite dish. You always make it to welcome him home after a long mission, and while its smell is usually enough to bring him peace, today his heart simply refuses to settle.

Do you deserve someone better?

“Kyoujurou? Kyoujurou, you’re spacing out.” A gentle hand on his cheek startles him out of his thoughts, and he glances up in surprise to see you standing over him with a fond smile on your face. Holding out your hand, you gesture to the towel on his lap. “Hand me that, dear.”

He obediently sets it in your hands, and you move behind him, your knees brushing his back before the towel settles on his head once more. Your fingers begin to move the towel through his hair, a comforting, repetitive action that has a sigh leaving his mouth. Instinctively he leans back, head resting against your thighs and you giggle, the sound warming his heart from the inside out.

“You’re quiet tonight.” You observe after a few minutes. At your words, Kyoujurou opens his eyes slowly, a slightly self deprecating smile tugging at his lips. Of course you’d notice. “Is there something on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to collect the scattered pieces of his thoughts as you rub the tips of his hair between the towel, fingers combing through the unruly strands. It’s not a notion that is new to him - every day he bids you goodbye to head out on yet another dangerous mission, a quiet voice in him asks if you ever regret being with someone like him.

You’re more than he deserves, surely.

“Don’t ever say that.” You chide, and Kyoujurou suddenly realises that he’s said his thoughts out loud. Instantly ashamed of his thoughts, he shakes his head, pulling a quick smile onto his lips to placate your concern. 

“I must be more tired than I thought I was.” Kyoujurou says. Insecure, afraid. Those are not words that tend to come to mind when thinking about Rengoku Kyoujurou, and yet Kyoujurou knows deep down that it is what he is. “Come, let’s go to bed. I’m sure it’s just the exhaustion talking. I’ll be fine tomorrow morning!”

“You’re not escaping me that easily.” With a light hum, you move to kneel in front of his, hands clasping the sides of his face firmly. Even when he tries to avoid your gaze, your eyes are unwavering, and when he looks into them he sees only love there. It’s impossible to look away. “How long have you been feeling this way, Kyo?”

The soft, affectionate way you call him has his head hanging in embarrassment, his bottom lip between his teeth as he struggles to form the words. You don’t push him, fingers stroking gently along his cheekbones as you wait for him to be honest with you. 

“For a while now.” He answers, hesitant. It’s a silly, irrational thought, Kyoujurou knows that, but it clings onto the back of his mind, refusing to release him from its clutches. His father’s voice echoes again and again in his head, you are weak, you are worthless, and surely someone like him is not worth all the pain and worry that comes with loving him.

“Lean forward for me?” Your sudden request leaves Kyoujurou a little confused, but he obliges, bringing your faces closer together.  Before he can say a word to explain himself, you’re leaning down to kiss him, nipping lightly on his lips as if to punish him for ever saying such a thing. 

“Don’t ever say that again.” You repeat against his mouth, hands bracing against his chest. He moans into your mouth, head spinning as you thoroughly kiss his lips, relentless in devouring him whole. “You have no idea just how much I love you, Kyoujurou. I would give you the world if I could.” Your tongue licks into his mouth and his back arches in response, trying to bring your bodies as close together as possible.

“You give me more than I deserve, while I cannot do the same for you.” Kyoujurou murmurs, his heart clenching as he looks over you. Your eyes narrow at his words. “You should have someone who is able to stay by your side all the time. Someone whom you will be able to build a happy family with. Someone you can love more easily.”

The words make his heart ache. The thought of you by anyone’s side but his pains him so much he can’t put into words, however, if it would make you happier in the long run, he’d give you up no matter what it costs him. 

Because your happiness is what matters the most to him.

All of a sudden you swing a leg over his hip so that you’re sitting on him, your noses brushing together as you kiss him once more. “I will do all those things together with you.” You tell him firmly, one finger pressed firmly against his lips as if to prevent him from arguing with you. You’re absolutely beautiful when you look at him this way, eyes burning with a determination that draws him to you like a moth to a flame. “All you need to worry about is yourself. As for how easy it is for me to love you,” you nuzzle the crook of his neck, lightly sucking on the skin there, and a low groan leaves his mouth before he can stop it. “Do I have to show it to you in a way that you can understand?”

��A way I-” Kyoujurou asks aloud, confused. In response, you take one of his hands in yours, unfurling his fingers carefully to trace the calluses on his palm, there from years of holding the sword since he’s been a child. He watches with bated breath as you raise his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm reverently.

“So strong.” You whisper, and Kyoujurou feels warmth spread over his fingers and down his arm. “You’ve put in so much effort to save others, Kyoujurou. I’ve watched the way you practice the sword tirelessly every day for years, even when you were exhausted or injured.” You kiss his knuckles, lips brushing over the bone white scars on his skin. “I love your dedication.”

He flushes lightly at your unrestrained praises. Kyoujurou has rarely been complimented this way - his behavior is only natural for that of a Pillar. “I only did what was expected of me-”

“And this mouth.” You interrupt by tapping at his lips lightly with a finger, and he finds himself unable to continue. “Your smile is always so bright, your words always so encouraging. Also,” you lean down to kiss the corners of his mouth, a smile dancing on your own lips that makes him want to kiss them again and again, “your lips are so soft. So easy to kiss. I can never resist them.”

Kyoujurou breathes your name softly, almost a prayer on his lips. You hear him, moving down to trace a scar on his chest, right above his heart. “But most of all, I love your heart.” Your head dips down to kiss the naked skin there, so gentle it almost brings tears to his eyes. “Despite the pain you’ve endured, you’re never unkind. You’re always courageous, so selfless in everything you do, and your heart is strong and gentle. I love you, Kyoujurou.”

“Mmnn.” That’s all he manages to make out, his throat suddenly thick. The words that his father had once spoken to him echo hollowly in the back of his mind, but he can’t hear them over the thumping of his heart. You smile at the expression on his face, reaching down to brush a tear at the corner of his eye - one that he didn’t even realise was falling.

“Look.” You say softly, looking up at him, your gaze filled with nothing but tenderness. “In my eyes, I see a beautiful, strong man named Rengoku Kyoujurou. I see his smile and his strength. I see his scars and his insecurities. And I still love every part of him,” he has to fight the embarrassed smile twitching onto his lips when you kiss him again, “very, very much. Whatever may come, I’ve chosen to love him and be with him for the rest of my life. Got that, my silly husband?”

“I got it.” Pulling you closer so that you’re situated in his lap, Kyoujurou wraps his arms around you and rests his head on your shoulder. Taking in a shuddering breath, he manages a smile, closing his eyes to enjoy your warmth. “Thank you, darling.”

You hum, fingers tracing little circles on his collarbone. It’s a pleasant sound. “I was just telling the truth.” Your hands clasp his tightly. “Tell me if you feel this way again, alright?”

“I will. But perhaps... can we stay this way for just a while longer?”

“Of course we can, Kyoujurou.”

[imaginationoverspill]

Long time no see

Summary : Two years into an undercover mission, you find yourself meeting the very man you had to leave behind.

Obi-Wan Kenodi x Genderneutral!reader

The low boom of the bass permeated through the sweaty bar as Master Kenobi and his padawan moved through the crowd.

“Master are you sure this the right place ?”, Anakin mumbled to his master, uncomfortable in the civilian clothes that many of the regulars wore. His status as a padawan hidden as his braid was tucked under the shoulder-length wig.

“Yes Anakin, I’m sure and please stop fidgeting, you’re drawing attention”, he replied as he glanced around the crowd inconspicuously.

“Yes Master”.

Eventually, the pair found an empty booth in a more secluded part of the club, but also a lot closer to one of the many circular platforms dotted around that were mainly used by scantily-clad dancers of varying species and gender. One of the platforms was directly in front of Obi-Wan’s line of sight and was a lot larger than the other platforms, probably used as the main stage. At the moment it was empty as the generic low-bass music continued to play.

“So this informant, any idea how we’re supposed to find them ?”

“Patience, young one”, replied Obi-Wan.

The music suddenly changed and the lights dimmed so that the main stage was lit up. Both men looked at the stage as two twi’leks, one male and one female, start dancing along to the beat.

Here we go again. Just like every other night for the past two years, you sat in the dressing room getting ready for your performance. At least this time, you know two Jedi will be waiting for you for information. They should be easy enough to spot, even if they think they’re amazing at being disguised. Most of the time ordinary people don’t notice them when they’re not in their robes, you, however, could spot them a mile away so it didn’t really matter that you had no idea who the Jedi you were supposed to meet was. Hopefully, after you’ve dropped the info, your undercover mission will be over and you can get back to what you’re fantastic at : bounty hunting.

“Come on honey! We’re up!”, shouted Iyal’, a young yellow twi’lek that was your only friend among the dancers.

You took your robe off, revealing the provocative outfit and sauntered on stage as your back-up dancers, Iyal’ and another twi’lek, began dancing to the beat of the song. They separated to reveal you to the audience and you began singing.

As you sing and dance sensually to the song, you check out the crowd entranced by your performance in search of the two Jedi. Your gaze lands on the two men sat in a booth near one of the smaller dance platforms and you falter slightly as you recognise him.

“Kriff”

Anakin glances confusingly at his master’s swearing. The usually calm and composed Jedi master was visible flustered at the sight of the beautiful singer on the main stage.

“Master, are you alright ?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and readjusted himself so as not to seem affected by the performance. When he was told to meet up with an undercover agent, you were the last person that he had expected to see.

You gave it your all on the final note, the club whistles and applauses your performance. The twi’leks move off-stage as the generic low-bass music returns. You walk off-stage in the direction of the booth.

Nervous butterflies were fluttering around in your stomach despite your confident strut towards the two Jedi. Holy Sith! Why does he have to be so hot? He was already attractive when he was a padawan but the long hair and beard just make him ten times hotter.

As you reach them, you coyly sit next to the older one.

“Of all the places I thought I would see you again Kenobi, this is certainly not one of them”

“Likewise my dear”, he responded coldly.

Anakin furrowed his eyebrows at his master’s cold greeting before introducing himself.

“Pleasure to meet you”, you reply smirking and coyly extending your hand for him to shake. Despite the coldness from Obi-Wan, you still had an act to maintain.

“Anakin, why don’t you go get us both drinks whilst I discuss matters with our informant”, Obi-Wan ordered.

“But-”.

“Now, Anakin.”

He nodded his head towards you both before getting up, slightly concerned at his master’s strange behaviour.

“ Master”, you say as if testing the way it sounded. “It suits you.”

“Yes well ... thank you”, he coughs. You smile slightly, glad you could break his impassiveness, even if only for a moment.“From what I understand, you have some information on a potential terrorist attack”

“It’s always straight to business with you, even when we were younglings”

“I hardly see why that’s a bad thing”

You smirk at him before gently removing a disc hidden in your bra.

“This disc has everything I could gather without being caught”

Obi-Wan briefly glanced down but quickly looked away before you noticed where he was looking.

“Your effort is greatly appreciated by the council”, he curtly replied as he took the disc from you.

You felt disappointed at the lack of reaction. You always knew that if you did ever see him again, the encounter would be at the least awkward, but you still hoped that somewhere deep down, he was happy to see you.

The sound of shouting above the music catches your attention. Anakin was stood with his fists clenched and struggling to stay calm as a Rodian screeched at him. The second you look at the scene, you notice a determined group walk in your direction. You recognise them immediately as henchmen from the separatist group that run the club as cover.

“Fuck, we’ve got to get out of here. Grab Anakin and meet me at the back”. If they figure out that you’re with a Jedi, your cover will be blown. You get up to meet the group of intimidating aliens, still maintaining your flirty persona.

"Hi fellas, what can a gal get ya’ ?" You flirtatiously greet.

" How about two Jedi scum.", growled the big Trandoshan. You try to hide your nervous giggle.

" Oh sugar, if that's what you want, you ain't gonna find any here"

"Really", he stepped closer to you, "then why did we catch you chatting them up." Crap.

"Oh, don't be silly. Those two fellas were just here for a good time. Here, let me grab you fellas some drinks, on the house"

You quickly turn away to escape but the Trandoshan roughly grips onto your arm. You slam your heel into his foot, causing him to yell in pain and let your arm go. Time to get out of here. You start running and pushing through the crowd of semi-drunk club-goers.

"GET AFTER THEM !"

The group draw their blasters and run after you.

You manage to run out into a dark and dirty alleyway with a dead-end.“Not so fast”, two Devaronians block both sides of the alleyway, cutting off your escape route. Oh, crap.

Suddenly the sounds of lightsabers and blaster fire catch your attention. Upon the rooftop, you spot the two Jedi deflecting blasts close to the edge. They make quick work of the thugs attacking before Obi-wan notices the trouble you’re in the alleyway below as the two Devaronians trapping you rush at you.

Without much thought -and to Anakin’s confusion- he calls your name and throws his deactivated lightsaber to you. You catch the lightsaber and ignite, smirking at the two thugs who suddenly stopped at the sight of the blue blade. They start firing their blasters but you gracefully deflect the bolts back to them before swiftly cutting one of the Devaronian’s arm off and roundhouse kick him in the face, incapacitating him. You promptly twist to face the other thug who had stepped back slightly in fear. Swinging the sabre skilfully, you use the force to pull the blaster out of his hand before slamming the hilt into his face, effectively knocking him out.

Both Jedi smoothly leap down from the roof to join you.

“You’re a Jedi ?!”, exclaimed Anakin incredulously.

“Was. I’m not any more.”, you admitted.

“Yes well, let’s get out of here”, said Obi-Wan, quickly cutting off whatever Anakin was about to say to your reply.

The three of you headed out of the alleyway and headed to the parked speeder hidden in the shadows. Upon approaching the speeder, you noticed that only seated two people and stood awkwardly looking at the men, wondering how we were going to get around the problem. Obi-Wan noticed the same issue as you. As Anakin sat in the driver’s seat, he took his place in the passenger’s side and simply patted his lap. You flushed at the action. When you didn’t immediately move, he looked at you with a slight smirk and raised an eyebrow.

Over the past two years, you became used to the flirtatious smirks and sexual remarks from both attractive and unattractive customers whilst working in the seedy club in the lower decks of Coruscant. You were used to dancing provocatively in front of an enraptured audience. But one simple hand gesture from him and suddenly you were blushing mess. You also realised this is the first time that he’s somewhat smiled since seeing him again. This only made you blush more. In an attempt to mask how flustered he made you, you moved to gently sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist to secure you, making you blush even harder and making the resurfaced butterflies flutter crazily in your stomach but thankfully he couldn’t see your face. Anakin, however, saw the entire exchange but decided not to say anything. He’ll have to question his master later.

Anakin flew the speeder to the Jedi temple, much to your reluctance. After the feeling of disappointing your master by leaving the order, the thought of ever returning made you feel queasy and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you didn’t help. As Anakin landed the speeder, Master Yoda, a blue and white astromech droid and a gold protocol droid greeted you. You stood behind the two Jedi, hoping to be ignored by your former master. No such look as he greeted you :

“Good to see you, it is, my former padawan”

“Master Yoda”, you greeted, bowing in respect, “it has been a long time.”

“Have become a fine Jedi, you would, but become an invaluable ally, instead you have. If correct, your information is, prevent losses, it may. Hmm. Been prepared for your arrival, a room has. Show you the way, C3PO will. Discuss further action with the council, we must. Talk later, we will.”

During the walk to your new room, you ignored the ramblings of the protocol droid as the familiar corridors of the Jedi Temple made you feel nostalgic. You remember the times you and Obi-wan would get in trouble as children. You shared everything with each other. But as you got older, you developed a crush that no amount of meditating would get rid of it. You had to hide your feelings as it was against the code to form attachments. However, it was far too late. You thought by distancing yourself more would make a difference but no matter what you did, his smile, his laughter, everything about him would make your heart flutter. Dismissing the droid once when you reached the room, you decided that a shower was in order.

The sound of the door knocking pulled you from the meditative state you had been in. After your shower, you started your bedtime ritual which included a small meditation session. Since leaving the order, you were no longer obligated to follow their rules and rituals but nothing helped calm you down better than meditating. It was currently three o’clock in the morning and so you definitely were not expecting anyone to come knocking. You opened the door :

“Obi-Wan ?”

“I realise it is far too late and I should be leaving you to rest but I can’t sleep.”

You silently gesture for him to come in before closing the door. As padawans, it wasn’t unusual for one of you to go see the other when we had difficulty sleeping. Nothing had to be said. You started making two cups of tea as he sat on the small couch near the window of your room. He wasn’t wearing his robes but a thin cotton shirt and trousers. For a brief moment, you both felt like padawans again.

As you handed him his tea, he shifted and the moment of nostalgia was over :

“I’ve come to apologise”, he started, “I was unfairly rude to you and I would also like to apologise for blowing your cover”.

“I somehow don’t think it was your fault. Something tells me that they had known about me long before you even turned up”

“You suspect they knew you were a spy ?”

“Yeah, call it a gut feeling”

He nodded in agreement, stroking his beard. You didn’t think he could be any more attractive but the sight of him sat on your couch in his casual clothes made everything seem intimate. You had to tear your gaze away from the hand near his mouth, hoping he didn’t sense what you were feeling.

“I hated being there anyway, so I’m definitely not upset over never having to go back there ever again”

His brows furrowed at your statement :

“More so than here ?”

“What ?”, you reply in confusion.

“I - Did you hate it there more than being at the Temple ?”

You looked at him, wondering why he would ask such a question. Normally, you would just ignore such a question and try to change the subject, but had been a very tiring day and something about the moment just made you want to give in.

“I never hated being at the Temple.”

A heavy silence followed your answer. When you left the order, you promised you would never tell anyone your reasons, afraid of rumours would spread and Obi-Wan’s devotion to the order and the code would be put into question.

“Why did you leave ?”

“Obi-Wan, I-”

“No please. I never understood why you left. I thought you were happy at the Temple. I remember the fun we had as children.”

“Obi-Wan please -”

He gently picked your hands up and held them, gently rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs. The rough but soft caress of his thumbs made you feel weak and you felt resolve crumble.

“I loved you”, you quietly whispered. Hoping maybe he hadn’t heard you, but the sudden freezing of his thumbs confirmed that he had.“ I tried not to”, you quickly added. “ I tried so hard to be a good Jedi but it didn’t work. If anything it made me love you more. So I left. I didn’t want to ‘corrupt’ you. I knew how much becoming a Jedi Knight meant to you.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, afraid of what you’ll see. Afraid that he would turn cold again and that it would truly be last time you ever see him again. Instead, you heard him move closer and felt his forehead gently rest against the side of your face. Confused, you gently turn your face to him so both of your foreheads rested against each other. He had his eyes closed and you closed your own. You could feel his warm breath softly flow over your face he slowly leaned in more. His nose brushed softly against yours as his lips pressed to yours. Your lips touched for a few seconds before he leaned in more, deepening the kiss. One of his hands moved up to gently cup your jaw.

After what felt like hours, but probably was only a few minutes, you both separated. You were in a daze and felt on top of the world.

AN : I had to repost this because Tumblr glitched, but anyways here it is. I spent way to much time on this and I’m still not entirely happy with it but I hope you enjoy it !

PS : Please tell me I’m not alone in struggling to find titles for their fanfictions.

[raelly-writing]

Little Secrets - Thancred/WoL

Post-5.5. Silly little bit of fluff I’ve had lying around in my WIP folder since before 5.3. :)

---

The Rising Stones lay still and quiet as Thancred made his way through its hallways. Not that it was unexpected at this hour - either it was far too late in the night or too early in the morning for many souls aside for the town guards to be awake.

At least the others out in the field had been faring well when he’d checked in with them, despite their less than pleasant task of intercepting any further attempts to bring captives to the towers. Sure, he could have checked in via linkpearl, but after the chaos out in Pagl’than, it’d seemed prudent to get a feeling for the situation elsewhere.

Well, he could convene with Riol and Alphinaud in the morning, Thancred thought as he took the steps up the stairs to the sleeping quarters in twos. Despite his long travel and the late - or early - hour, he felt rather energetic.

Or perhaps it was the thought of slinking into Viana’s room and just catching a few precious hours of sleep with her after several days apart that put a slight spring in his step. Between his time away in Garlemald, and leaving again to see how the situation at the other towers were, he looked forward to the comforting warmth of her body curled up next to his as he slept. In the dark, still corridor, his quiet huff of laughter at himself seemed far louder than it was. It would have been a hard thing to believe once that he’d be eager to slip into his lover’s bed, just for the simple pleasure of sleeping by their side.

Nevermind that there were no fears of entanglement driving him from leaving said bed early, that he was content and secure in this bond between them that kept him by her side - that he could allow himself to have this simple happiness in his life, despite those moments where he felt it was something he had not yet earned, and those familiar, dark voices whispered to him that she would one day realise that he was not fit for her.

With a shake of his head, he fished out the spare key she had given him from his inner coat pocket and quietly unlocked her door. Her chamber lay silent as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, bathed in the low light of the lantern left burning on her desk.

Too silent, in fact.

A small frown creased his brow as he quietly stepped deeper into the room and looked around the ornate Far Eastern wood screen that customarily partitioned off her bed from the rest of the room.

The piles of pillows and blankets were untouched, the covers still neatly tucked in. No one had slept in that bed tonight.

Thancred felt a small but potent pang of disappointment. Most likely she had been called off somewhere on an urgent matter, as was wont to happen.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it - guess he was sleeping in his own bed tonight. Tataru and Alphinaud would tell him in the morning where she’d gone, he was sure. Sighing, he reached out to turn off the lantern, when he caught sight of her gunblade lying on her desk with its maintenance kit beside it. Thancred stopped at once, a curious frown back on his features. Looking around he found her katana sitting on its customary stand and her axe hanging off a pair of hooks on the wall by her wardrobe.

“What the-?” he murmured to himself. She wouldn’t have left without any of her weapons.

Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a dull thud as someone on the other side pushed their weight against the door. A pause. Then the sound of it once more unlocking.

“Seven Hells, I swear that I locked-” Viana froze the moment she saw him, her eyes going almost comically wide in surprise.

Thancred’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance, the surprise he felt not mitigating the heat that instantly crawled up the back of his neck. A dark leather corset hugged her body, with familiar looking bits of gold jewelry twinkling in the low light like little stars against the dark blue cloth of her dress.

A moment of silence stretched out between them.

Clearing his throat, he smiled and gestured towards her. “Were I to check the hallway, would I find Urianger knocked out and robbed off his usual adornments?”

Viana’s shoulders, bared by the cut of the dress, sagged when she exhaled. “Funny,” she replied dryly while she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the lock. Tall boots covered her legs, though even in the dim light of the room he could see the tantalising glimpse of bare skin at her thigh.

He tried not to let his eyes linger, but it was hard not to let his gaze wander and soak in her unusual appearance, used as he was to her in full armour or just lighter shirts and trousers. This was… extravagant, by comparison. “People have on occasion accused me of such feats,” he quipped.

Pausing, she gave him a shy, uncertain look while still lingering by the door. He was not meant to have seen her like this, he realised. Only once, long ago, had he seen her carry herself in such an apprehensive manner - at the banquet that had been held after the Grand Melee in Ishgard. But there were no crowds of gossiping nobles present now to watch her every move.

Thancred gave her a reassuring smile as he took a couple of slow steps forward. “So, do you mind me asking what this is about?” He had an inkling but...

Viana tensed up, and he nearly told her that she did not have to if so was her wish, but then she sighed and procured from behind her the folded together metal rings that appeared to have been suspended from one of the chains around her waist.  “I suppose you’d find out sooner or later,” she said quietly as she took a few steps to close the distance between them.

With a touch of aether, the slender rings flared to life and hovered above her palm - a familiar sight, though hers lacked the intricate decorations of Urianger’s. The bracelets on her arm tinkled when she moved her arm over the astrolabe, her face set in a look of concentration.

Briefly, the room was illuminated by a surge of aether, and then a soothing sensation washed over Thancred, like a gentle whisper of the softest silk over his bare skin that swept away the weariness in his limbs. Rejuvenating magic, tinted with the warm, familiar feeling of her aether.

“I made the mistake of voicing some curiosity about astrology to Urianger while we were dealing with Eden.” The corner of her mouth curled with a crooked smile. “And I fear he took it as a personal challenge to teach me.”

“Ah, a grave mistake indeed,” Thancred chuckled. “Give him an ilm and he’ll take a yalm.”

Shrugging, she eyed the slowly spinning astrolabe with a small, thoughtful smile. “It’s been… interesting to learn though.” Her gaze flickered back to him. “I’ll probably never take this out in the field. I’m barely good enough to heal a minor cut, but I do genuinely appreciate the effort and time he’s put toward this. He’s a good teacher. Very patient with me.”

Thancred’s expression softened. He knew her lack of an education was a sore spot for her, and that she often felt like her non-existent grasp of magical theory made her less of use than the rest of them - that, as per her own jest, her sole contribution to any given problem was to take a beating and punch the issue until it either went away or one of them solved it. Gratitude towards Urianger for taking her under his wing tugged at his heart, along with a content pride in her efforts to learn. Even if Thancred himself thought that she hardly had anything to prove to them, in that regard. She was more than just a weapon. Reaching out, he took her free hand in his and brushed a quick kiss to the back of her fingers, below the rings that adorned them.

“I take it you were out studying the stars then,” he asked, recalling how Urianger would sometimes venture out into the fields of Il Mheg even when the blanket of Eternal Light had made it impossible to see the night sky.

Viana nodded and slipped her hand from his to caress his jaw. The scratch of his stubble made her smile widen a little, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Mm, his balcony has a good view of most of them. Otherwise we go up to one of the towers.”

With another wave of her hand, the astrolabe folded back up and she took a careful hold of it before walking past him to the same low cabinet upon which her katana stand stood. The soft light from the lantern caught on the gold chain hanging down between her shoulder blades. Focusing on it, he saw that another star pendant was dangling at its end, and that another, heftier chain was attached to the band around her upper arm. There was an itch in his fingers to slowly undo each clasp and tie, to loosen the corset hugging her body and unwrap her like a fine namesday gift.

“He’s been teaching me about the various constellations and how to draw on them,” she told him over her shoulder, unaware of how his eyes were following the chains looping around her waist, and the small blue gems hanging from them that sparkled like they were distant stars twinkling in the night sky. “Not sure how successful I’ve been at it though.”

She turned around and his gaze instantly snapped back up to her face. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Viana shrugged sheepishly. “Perhaps. If nothing else I might be able to apply some of the theory to my gunbreaker barriers.” Her smile turned crooked, as humour sparked in her eyes. “And, I might not stand around and look like I just got clubbed over the head by Titan whenever a discussion turns theoretical in nature about aether balancing and all that stuff.”

“Ah, my dear, you’re hardly the only one who gets turned around by their theoretical debates.”

A soft peal of laughter made her shoulders shake as she walked back to him. “Well, I suppose I have Estinien as company in that regard, for now.” The knowing look she gave him made it clear that she knew he was obfuscating his own knowledge on the field, but instead of calling him out on it she merely leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured.

Smiling, Thancred slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’m glad to be back.”

Viana leaned against him and brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Planning on staying for more than a day, this time?”

Immediately he felt the long journey catch up with him, and with a tired chuckle he nodded. “Unless the gods decide to suddenly turn the world upside down tomorrow, then yes, I am.”

Her smile brightened a little at once. “Good.” She leaned down and he eagerly met her in a slow kiss.

Thancred made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, his heart skipping a beat in joy at being back with her. The kiss was short and sweet, familiar and welcoming in tone.

Almost too short, he felt, when she straightened back up. Peering up at her, he felt curiosity tug at him once more as he thumbed what felt like a star shaped pendant. “Haven’t seen you in something like this before,” he murmured with a smile. “Well, aside from that dress at ser Aymeric’s banquet.”

A blush immediately crept up on her cheeks as she glanced away. “Ah, yes, I... asked Tataru for some more aether conductive gear,” she replied while tapping her fingers against his shoulders in a nervous manner. “Apparently she’d gotten her hands on some new patterns in Ishgard that she wanted to try out. Decided to kill two cloudkin with one rock, as it were.” The tilt of her smile turned a little self deprecating as she shrugged, “Can’t help but feel like her efforts were wasted on me.”

Raising a hand, he touched her chin to urge her to look back at him. Thancred held her gaze and let the levity drop from his voice when he responded, “You look stunning, darling.”

Viana’s eyes widened a fraction before her expression settled back into a bashful look. “Not exactly my usual style,” she murmured, her tone uncertain. “It seems a bit… frivolous, compared to my normal clothes.”

“Nothing wrong with a little frivolity, if that’s what you are in the mood for,” Thancred mused.

She pursed her lips with a thoughtful look, before leaning down and pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Well, thoughts for a later time I suppose. Mind helping me out of this?”

“Mm, that would be my pleasure,” he replied with a grin and gave her waist a squeeze.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

1, H, and hit me with some of that lynn d. "buck" compton ❤️

This song is so sad and angsty but I couldn’t bear to give Buck more sadness so enjoy my version of fluff ;)

“Buck, hey,” Emilia reached up to cradle his cheek in her palm, “hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” He gave no response, he only continued to stare at her with that glassy-eyed look she had become all too familiar with.

This happened most evenings since he had returned to England. The friend Emilia had sent off to war had returned a totally different man. Recently, his night terrors had become so bad that Emilia had become accustomed to the knock on her door after midnight.

It would be easy for anyone who saw Buck sneaking into her room to assume that something compromising was occurring. But it wasn’t like that. They didn’t strip each other's layers, but melted into each other, creating more. The only muffled sounds were her gentle murmurs of comforting words. He would let the tears fall and she would use her thumb to wipe them away as internally clutched pieces of her own heart together.

“It’s okay,” she’d whisper as she pulled him into her chest. She leaned against the pillows and stroked his head.

In the morning, they would go their separate ways. She would attend to her official patients and Buck would participate in rehabilitation. It helped that the days were growing warmer in England. Emilia knew very few details of what Buck had experienced in Bastogne, but she knew him well enough to recognize the warmer days treated him better.

The two had met not long after D-Day when Buck had returned to England a hero among his men. He was such an imposing figure that exuded charm and confidence. If she were honest Emilia had found Buck incredibly attractive. But he had a girlfriend and Emilia was more than happy to just be his friend. Buck's energy was unmatched. He had this special talent of making those around him feel like the most important person in the room.

Emilia had never felt more confident than walking down a road with her hand tucked into the crook of his large arm. She felt brave knowing that he had her back. He had such immense respect from the other men that it transferred over to her by association and that made her feel safe in a way she had never experienced before. Buck was her hero come to life.

But in the end, the war got the better of Buck. And their relationship changed. Buck was still strong, just in a different way now. Emilia was no longer his pretty sidekick but a lifeline he needed to get through the days.

Some nights he needed to be held, but on better nights he just needed to not be alone. Emilia was happy to assist him with either.

“Come with me to California,” Buck said unexpectedly one night. Emilia’s hand froze in his hair where she had been dragging her fingertips through the short curls.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, even though something clutched in her chest.

“You’re always complaining about the cold here,” Buck said in a low voice.

Emilia sighed, “it’s a nice thought, Buck.” He rolled his head back to look at her, “I’m serious.”

Emilia’s stomach flipped as she made direct contact with those ice blue ice-blue eyes. In a look, all of her thoughts left her mind. Simultaneously, Buck’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen her like this before. Nothing was different, not a single thing had changed and yet she seemed different to him. He had spoken without thinking but now looking up at her he realized it was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. He needed her to come to California with him.

“We’ll see,” Emilia finally said in a dismissive tone. She began drawing her fingers through his white-blonde curls again. Buck grabbed her wrist to stop her. He brought her hand down over his chest.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” he said earnestly.

Emilia bit her lip and nodded, “I promise.” Buck raised an eyebrow. “I promise I’ll think about it!” she assured him.

Satisfied, Buck nestled back down into the cradle of her embrace, “good,” he murmured.

That was the beginning to their end, the end of their friendship at least. It was as if the invitation to return to California with him had eliminated all boundaries that had previously been founded. Each night little touches were achieved, touches that were far too intimate to be considered comfort between friends. And as the nights passed, Emilia felt Buck's strength return to him. The version of who he was before was gone forever but from the ashes of that shell of a human, a new man was emerging.

“Have you thought about California at all?” Buck asked one night. They lay next to each other in bed, his arms wrapped around her for a change. His cheek pressed against hers. There was a metallic smell about him, like fresh snow. It was clean and pleasing and Emilia felt that old familiar sense of security return to her.

“I’ve thought about it a little,” she admitted. It was true she had thought about it. But not in any real sense- the logistics were not simple. In her fantasies it was easy. California was only sunshine and meeting his family was nothing but pleasant. But in reality, there was citizenship to be approved, jobs to be acquired, and a place to live to be found. Would they be living together? Or would she have to make her own way in the world with Buck as nothing more than a friend?

“And?” Buck asked. She considered his question as he nuzzled against her cheek. She shrugged, a pointed expression that took some effort with his heavy arms wrapped so lovingly around her. “Think you’ll come?” he pressed.

“I don’t know, Buck,” Emilia finally admitted. He didn’t miss the crack in her voice.

He propped himself up, “hey,” the tone of his voice had changed to one of concern, “what’s wrong?”

Emilia rolled over in bed to face him, “I just don’t know how it’ll work. Logistically I mean…” she trailed off. Buck settled down on the bed beside her.

“What do you mean?”



“I mean, my life is here, Buck. I have a job, a house..”

She appreciated that he seemed to consider her concerns seriously. He didn’t immediately jump in with solutions but in the darkness, she could feel his eyes consider her carefully.

“It’s a lot to ask you to leave behind,” he admitted in a quiet voice, “and I’ll understand if you say no. But I really want you to come, and I’ll make sure you’re provided for.”

That only confused Emilia more: provided for? She needed him to clarify. She reached down into the very depths of herself to find the courage to ask, “as a friend or… as more than a friend?”


Time seemed frozen, unmoving as she waited for his answer. After what felt like minutes, his hand between them came up to her face. He gently pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Emilia,” Buck whispered, “you have been the constant and lasting good in my life. I never want to be away from you. I love you.”

Tears welled in Emilia’s eyes, taking her by surprise. She tried to swallow but her throat was thick with emotion. All she could do was stare back into his eyes, navy in the darkness, that were set upon her with so much intensity. “I love you more than I love a friend,” Buck said in a voice that was stronger and more confident than she had heard in ages. “If you’ll have me, I want you forever.” Emilia could only nod she was so overcome with joy. Buck pulled her closer into his arms and then they were holding each other, not out of desperation or grief but in love, equally clutching each other and the hope their future together held.

[mysanderssidessideblog]

A Good Day

Warnings for Sides fading out, major character death, unsympathetic Patton, angst, gaslighting, not a happy ending.  

Written for #UnsympAndAngstSidesBingo

Link to AO3

“I'm very disappointed in you kiddo.”

Janus looked up from his book, frowning.

True, he knew his occasional appearance in the Lightside was not exactly welcome, but he had been slowly trying to help the others acclimatise to his presence by sitting quietly with a book from time to time.

He'd even carefully set out a tea set and biscuits this time, rather than his usual tea for one, making a subtle gesture that he was open to company. So far, none had taken him up on the offer.

Yet, he could not fathom source of Patton's discontent. He was <i>trying</i>, and short of dragging Virgil out by his ear to reluctantly sit with him, he was not sure what more he could do.

“Patton. Will you not join me?”  Janus had learnt that the use of the word 'not' had evolved to ambiguous meaning; 'I could care less' tended to be treated the same as 'I could not care less', even if the wording was inaccurate. As a result, he leaned heavily into the word to help mask his lies.

“No.”

Morality's face, usually lit up with a bright smile, was stern.

Janus pursed his lips, and feigned indifference. “As you like.”

“You had one job, and you have failed.”

That took him aback, Patton not usually so confrontational. lowering his book, Janus schooled his expression into neutrality, opting for addressing the accusation in a calm and civil manner. He inclined his head so that he appeared interested in what Patton had to say, while opening his stance to appear receiving to discussion.

“I am not sure I follow. Please, help me understand.”

“You were to keep the undesirable elements of Thomas hidden, secret. <i>You</i> were supposed to stay away, out of sight, out of mind.”

“Ah.”  Janus straightened, and clutched at his book, trying to hide the hurt from his voice. He had thought he and Patton had reached something of a truce, that Patton had seen that he had some merit in being known, in being active participant in the mindscape.

“I believe we agreed that repression was not of benefit. That I could keep things hidden, but it would be best for Thomas to be more self-aware, to learn that he had sides to him that were not always...”  Janus struggled for an appropriate word, “...good.” he finished lamely.

It was hard to argue with Morality; he held great power and influence, and his view of the world was parsed down into good and evil. Janus sought to teach him of the deeper complexities, but Patton was reluctant to even consider than lying could have small benefit in theory, so the idea of applying small untruths to day to day happenings was unthinkable to him.

“It is not working. Thomas is more stressed than ever with so many conflicting opinions, and then there is Remus! He is disgusting, and vile, and Thomas does not need him and his corrupting presence!”

 “And don't think I have not noticed Logan's more regular angry outbursts. The influence of the dark sides has gotten out of hand, and must be corrected.”

Janus was glad of his gloves that hid how white his knuckles had turned with how tightly he held the book.  He swallowed nervously.

“Patton, I understand that this is a time of change, and that change can be daunting, even uncomfortable. However, change is important for growth, for improved insight. This will help Thomas become a better person, eventually.”

“Thomas was already perfect before the dark sides came along! Things were better before!”

Patton's face then broke into a smile.

Janus did not like that smile, not in the slightest.

“Maybe that is answer.....”

He was about to get to his feet, about to retreat, when Patton walked towards him.

“You could not keep the dark contained.” he said, as the air around them grew dense. Janus felt uneasy, as Patton's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “So I guess it's a father's duty to step in when a Kiddo has failed....”

Janus did try to get up then, but found himself held down by Patton by a hand upon his shoulder, surprisingly strong.

“You'll help me, won't you Kiddo? Help me fix up your little mistake...?”

“I don't understand Patton, what are you talking about?”

“You, and Remus, all the dark sides, are a bad influence on Thomas.”  Patton then stretched his lips  wider, his face a rictus parody of a smile, “It's high time someone did something about that....”

Janus shook his head. “Patton, you cannot just deny that Thomas has dark sides to him, same as everyone! We are just as much a part of him as you are!” he lifted his hand, tried to push Patton from him. He could not make Patton's hand budge at all.

“Thomas needs us. Needs all of us!”

Patton's grip shifted, instead of holding Janus down, curling his fingers past the fabric and into the flesh underneath, so tight Janus felt like Patton was reaching to leave fingerprints upon his bones.

“No. Thomas needs to be good.” Patton gave a short nod to himself. “Thomas will be good.”

Janus cried out, in pain, in fear.

“Let me go!”

“I can't do that Kiddo. See, if I'm gonna make everything right again, I'll need to borrow just a tiny bit of your power.”

“You can hide things, and I have high influence over nostalgia and memories. I think that if we really put our minds to it and work together, we can hide the memories of the dark sides so deep that they will never be thought of again!”

“Patton, Thomas needs all aspects of him. He needs to understand that others have the capacity to lie so he is not taken advantage of. He needs the ability to get angry when things are not right so he can sort it out.” “He even needs Remus, the core of his jokes that are a little crude, a little naughty....” “You cannot just.... delete those vital pieces of him; that way lies madness!”

“You are one to talk about lies mister!”

“OK, OK, I have lied, and will likely do so again, but you have been told that repression doesn't work... that didn't come from me, but Logan. And you trust Logan, right?”

Patton tipped his head, thoughtful.

“Hmm. Good point.”

Janus sagged slightly, relieved he had managed to get through to Morality.

“I guess we'll just have to remove the the dark sides entirely!” he said brightly.

Janus froze, unbelieving. If it had been anyone other than Patton, he'd have accused them of a off-tone joke..... but Patton wasn't lying.

“I will help you!” he snarled, shaking his head, the lie unsubtle and obvious.

Tutting, Patton looked down.

“If you are not part of the solution, then it seems to me you are part of the problem...”

Patton's hand clawed, and Janus felt something creak within his shoulder.

He felt Patton tug at his influence, and thrashed and fought to keep what he was whole. He hissed and bore his teeth as if he might bite.

The hand across his throat stilled him, surprised, shocked that Patton would do such a thing.

“Stop fighting me, I know what's best for Thomas.”

“I will not help you destroy the dark sides!”

Patton's grip, both on shoulder and throat tightened in irritation. Janus struggle to fight back, to even draw breath, but Morality held much more sway than he did, and he could not break free.

He struggled, cursing himself for dismissing Patton as native and weak. Janus knew he was merely stalling for time, that Patton would eventually win. There was a small hope that one of the others might happen upon them and intervene, but he was not well liked, and he did not trust that another side would not work with Patton against him.

Patton looked down over his glasses, considering, and Janus desperately tried to stop Patton from draining his power, his essence.

Patton's grip round his throat relaxed, and Janus drew desperate and painful breath.

It took him a moment to realise that Patton was stroking against the side of his neck, affectionately. “You have an affinity for self-preservation, yes? Give me your power, willingly, and I shall let you survive.”

His mismatched eyes widened as Janus took in how very serious and set on this course of action Patton was.

Terror gripped him as the fingers round his neck tightened again, and he feared for his life.

A better side would have stood up for what was right.

A stronger side would have fought harder.

A clever side would have found the words to make Patton reconsider.

But Janus was a selfish side.

Weakly, he nodded.

Janus tried to cry out as Patton syphoned his strength and his power, but he could only hiss which what remained of his breath. His gloves and cape leached their colour, turning dull and grey as Patton stole from him.

He did not hold out much hope that Patton would ever return what he had taken.

When it was done, Patton released Janus, standing tall and confident, radiating energy.

“You made the right choice. Well done kiddo.”

Janus, sagged in the chair, tired. He managed to bring his head up to look at Patton.  

“Patton, wait...” he managed to say, each word needing so much effort to utter than before, lie or not, “Please take a moment to think.. to reflect... You would be interfering beyond your realm of expertise. Do not do this!”

“Oh my silly little snake!” Patton leaned down to plant a fond kiss upon Janus's forehead.  “It's already done!”

“What? No!” Janus clutched at the chair, as if it might hold him steady against this new revelation.

“All those nasty bits that Thomas doesn't need are already disappearing from thought. If you wanted to say your goodbyes, I would hurry. They are fading fast.”

One thought came to mind.

“Remusssss!”  he hissed, and with a lurch, Janus swung himself downwards, sinking through the floor.

He landed in a landscape in disarray, the features of the darkside twisting and fragmenting, everything coming apart.

Remus was there, trying to shore up a crack in the wall with what looked like a mix of blood and cement.

“Snake-butt! Something's happening. Something's wrong!” he hollered over the low groan of the mindscape rejecting the dark.

Janus looked about in despair, only to see Remus staring at him, the crack beyond repair and stretching out. Horrifically, Janus could see the crack behind Remus, as the darker creativity grew translucent and hazy.

  “My head feels fuzzy like mould on a birthday cake, and what's up with you? You've gone all grey.”

“It's Patton, he is not unmaking the dark side!”  even in desperate times, Janus could not speak truthfully.

“What does that even mean?!”

Remus's voice was strange, softer as if he was shouting from a distance, but that did not hide the fact that he was scared. Janus could not ever recall Remus sounding scared.

Janus looked to him, halfway transparent and afraid, and the surrounding walls crumbling apart.

 He forced a smile.

“Everything will be all right.” he lied, as he reached over and wrapped his arms round Remus, so the other would not see the tears in his eyes.

The sounds of unmaking crescendoed about them, and then, grew quiet.

Remus, and the darkside, and all that it contained faded to black... no, not black.....

Nothingness.

*********

Janus had had to claw his way back from the nothingness, drawing on what little power he had left.

He shouldn't have made it, should have faded out with the rest, but Morality's promise of his own unworthy survival held true.

The effort of returning to the lightside caused him to stumble, and he landed gracelessly in the common area.

Logan, writing down something in a note book, looked up. He gave curt nod.

“Janus.” he acknowledged, and then returned to his writing.

“Logan!” Janus hissed out, struggling to his feet.

Logan looked again, and adjusted his glasses at the sight of Janus bereft of his usual colouration.

“You have a new outfit. It is... monochromatic.”

“Do not summon the others. It's not important!”

Logan frowned, “If it is of such little import, then why can you not do it?”

Hands clenched weakly at his sides, Janus swayed where he stood.

“I can!” he lied, and then cursed himself for not speaking clearly as Logan stood back expectantly.

It did not take long for Logan to realise that Janus was making no move to call the others to them.

“Oh. You are lying.” Logan's lips tightened, “Very well.”

Roman rose with a flourish, and Virgil popped up sitting on the stairs.

“Patton has not done something terrible!” Janus started, then caught himself. He took a breath.

“Patton has done something terrible. He has destroyed the darkside, and all those still connected to it.”

Virgil frowned in thought, “I thought I felt something weird... ”

“Or it could have just been your usual constant worry of something about to go wrong.” Logan reminded, to which Virgil gave reluctant nod.

“Even if that were true, which I very much doubt it is coming from you, then why are you still here?” Roman asked, sceptical.

“I....” Janus swallowed his pride and spoke aloud his grievous mistake. “I made a deal with him to survive.”

“but he took my power, and used it to unmake the darkside!”

“Patton wouldn't do something like that.” Roman said confidently.

“Patton wouldn't do something like what?”

Janus pulled back as Patton approached, smiling cheerfully.

“Janus thinks you have done something bad.” Logan explained.

“Are you sure you didn't mishear him that I've done something 'Dad'?”

Janus snarled.

“You destroyed them, all the dark sides! Pieces of Thomas, ripped apart and gone!”

Patton laughed, “As if I would do anything to hurt dear Thomas!

Roman and Logan nodded with Patton, that of the two, Patton was far more trust-worthy than Deceit.

“Anyway, Thomas doesn't have dark sides, save for you....” Janus did not like the way Patton looked at him, as if he was nothing but another problem that needed 'fixing'. He shuddered.

Patton continued, “But don't worry, we'll all help you find your place and learn to be good! Just like Virgil!”

Virgil gave an uncomfortable shrug at being pointed out.

Janus turned to Roman, desperate, “Roman, your twin! He is... he is gone Roman!! Patton killed him!”

“My brother?” Roman frowned, and reached to the back of his head to rub against a fragment of a memory.

He looked to Patton for guidance, deeply confused.

“Don't be silly, you don't have a brother.”

Roman's hand dropped, and he shrugged at Janus. “I don't even have a brother. Don't speak such lies Snake!”

“You did! His name is... is... was.....”

Janus's eyes widened in horror, as he could not bring the name to mind.... nor the face....

 Patton had not just destroyed the dark sides, but he had erased even the memories of them. How could Janus convince them of Patton's misdeed, when he had cleared every scrap of evidence from the mindscape?

How long before Janus himself forgot what Patton had done?

He lunged then at Patton, furious. He was stopped by Logan's arm easily blocking him and pushing him to the side.

Patton folded his arms, face full of fake concern.

“I was merciful before, but I think you need a time out Janus. Go to your room. In fact, I think it would be for the best if you were to stay there for the time being, and stop telling such terrible lies.”

“Roman, be a dear and take Janus to his room for me.”

“Sure thing Pat!”

As Janus let himself be led away, disbelieved and defeated, and destined to forget what he was and be moulded into whatever Patton deemed acceptable form of Deceit, Janus heard Patton address the other sides.

“Oh Kiddos, I'm just so happy! I have a feeling today is going to be a <i>good</i> day!”

[wri0thesley]

Smutty but also fluffy and cute scenario of pesci and his afab s/o having their first time together? (and maybe with some hints of prosciutto being jealous of pesci's s/o?)

first time - pesci x fem reader (3k)

NSFW. 18+ only ! afab reader, fem pronouns. sweet vanilla PIV sex; brief mentions/allusions to cheating. 

You’d always thought, when the time came, that you’d be the nervous one. That you’d be the one with the bitten lip and the fluttering hands, falling over yourself to laugh and stammer and try and take away some of the awkwardness in the air. You’d left it a while, after all - your friends and your peers would tell you of their exploits and you’d raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes and gasp at the appropriate moments and kept your secret held close to your chest. It felt silly, saying it out loud; ‘I’m just waiting for the right person’. Eventually, you’d realised that the right person wasn’t going to come. You’d made your peace with it. You’d looked forward to quiet nights in, alone, and tried to ignore the fact that (whilst it was a perfectly good choice that many people were happy with), you didn’t really want to be alone for the rest of your life. 

And then Pesci had walked into your life. 

He might not have been the tall dark and handsome stranger you’d once envisioned, but you couldn’t deny that you wouldn’t change him for all of the world. You look at him and your heart swells; he says you look beautiful tonight and you’re a flushed, blustering mess. Other people might not see him as handsome, but for you . . . you cannot get enough of his mouth, or the broad shoulders, or twisting fingers through his hair. Your first times for everything had been nervous affairs - your first kiss, snatched as he said goodnight to you in front of your door, his cheeks red as he pulled away. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he’d said, stammering, as he looked into your wide eyes. You’d seen him begin to pull into himself - his shoulders drawing in, teeth dangerously close to biting his lip, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. And instead of letting that happen, you’d taken ahold of his shoulders and kissed him again, scarcely believing in your own courage. 

He’d introduced you to Prosciutto after you’d been nervously dancing around the concept of dating for two months. The severe blond had raised his eyebrows, ice blue eyes flicking up and down your form, before he’d curtly nodded at you and gone about his business. 

“Don’t be worried,” Pesci had said, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. “He’s kinda like that with most people. He saw your picture on my phone and said I’d done a real good job, so . . .” Your poor boyfriend reddens, suddenly aware that perhaps he shouldn’t have shared that tidbit of information, as you felt your own cheeks heat up in response. He probably shouldn’t have shared it - still, the knowledge that Prosciutto felt as though you were at least good-looking helped assuage your fears that he wouldn’t think that you weren’t good enough for his fratello. 

(“He’s not really my brother,” Pesci had fallen over to tell you. “He’s kinda like . . . my mentor, I guess. I-if you were wondering why we don’t look like each other or anythin’, I know he’s a lot handsomer than I am--”. You’d kissed Pesci on the nose, silencing his spluttering, as you’d reassured him that actually, Pesci himself was far more your type anyway.)

You and Pesci go out with Prosciutto sometimes and you notice that he’s . . . off with you. He lingers a little too long beside you, a little too touchy-feely, a little too much treating you like Pesci treats you. He smirks at you and his eyes travel down your body and you blush because you’re not immune to all of his charms - but you realise what it is one day when Pesci is sick and Prosciutto drops by to give you a jacket you left at their place (Pesci shares a house with several of his coworkers; by all accounts his job isn’t well-paying and he has roommates to help keep costs down) and he hovers in your doorway for a fraction too long.

He’s jealous. 

You guess that nobody has ever preferred Pesci over him before. You guess seeing Pesci happy makes him want it for himself - but any good will you have toward him dissipates at the thought that he’s betray someone he cares about for it, and it flees completely as Prosciutto places a hand on your arm and smiles a crooked smile you’re sure has had people falling at his feet in the past. 

“Can’t I come in for a drink before I head back?” He says, his tone slightly lower than usual. His fingers stroke over your wrist. The flush comes unbidden to your face - he’s Prosciutto, after all - but you wave him away and force a smile.

“No, I really have things to do--”

“Cara,” he steps forward even so, toes just brushing the boundary of your home in stylish expensive leather shoes. He smiles at you again, sickly sweet. “Pesci tells me everything, you know. And you and he have been an item long enough that if you wanted to--”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you snap nervously. You do know what he’s getting at. The thought makes it feel like cats are clawing up your insides. Prosciutto continues to smile at you indulgently. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted it,” he says softly. “You’re very pretty, you know . . . I’d be lying if I didn’t say I envied Pesci a little. He doesn’t have to know--”

You’re not proud of slamming the door in his face. You spend the entire night stressed you’re going to get a text from Pesci about how rude you were, encompassing some wild story that Prosciutto’s concocted to make you look like you’re the one at fault in the situation. But nothing is forthcoming. 

Maybe he felt bad about it. You hope he did. 

What it does do, though - the whole situation with Prosciutto - is reaffirm that you love Pesci. Prosciutto’s right in that you’ve been dancing around one area of relationships, but it’s not for lack of attraction to Pesci. God, no. 

It’s fear that you’ll be bad at it, or that Pesci will see something in you he doesn’t like, that you’ll be left tear-stained and alone after something goes wrong. But as Prosciutto had made the insinuation he’d very much like to be invited to your bed, you’d had the realisation that you wanted Pesci. Beyond all reason, you wanted to kiss him and hold him and find yourself under him and drink him in, in every way possible. So the next time you two had a date planned, you asked if perhaps he wouldn’t just like to stay in with you and watch a movie. 

-

You’re both crackling with nerves. Your first attempt to kiss Pesci, after you’ve made it to the bedroom, is broken by your shuddering breath as you look at him from under dark eyelashes. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you tell him, nervous and scared. Pesci’s hands come up to hold your waist, making you feel safe in his embrace. His own smile is nervous, his lip bitten just as much as your own. 

“Neither do I,” he confesses. “So . . . that means we get to find out together, r-right?”

Right. You take a deep breath and kiss him again, and as his teeth gently nip at your bottom lip and you trace the lines of his own lips (his lipstick tastes like watermelon), you feel his hands travel down your back to your shirt. Your gasp is caught in his mouth as fingers gently work under the fabric until he’s touching your bare back, and you push yourself into the kiss. Your own hands go to rest on his shoulders, gently guiding yourself until you’re sat beside him on the bed. 

“I can take this off?” Pesci checks with you, fretting, before he goes any further. You nod and duck your head to hide the way your cheeks are giving you away. 

“Y-yeah,” you breathe. “I’d like that--”

The shirt is gently eased over your head and tossed aside. Pesci’s eyes travel down your body; his gaze lingering longest over your chest. His own cheeks are just as damning evidence as yours. He’d already shrugged off the coat-gilet hybrid he wore when he’d come into the living room,and you’re aware asking him to remove the body suit at this point would be unfair - still, you tug gently on one strap. 

“At least roll it down?” You ask him, voice small. “Just to make me feel less exposed?”

Pesci smiles nervous and earnest at you as he does just that - you see the fear that you won’t like his body reflected from your own eyes into his, and before he can apologise for the light covering of softness you kiss his collarbone. 

“You’re so handsome,” you tell him,” trailing kisses to his clavicle. His breath catches. He is soft - but beneath the layer of softness, you can feel what is unmistakably broad and hard muscle. Despite his appearance, you know that Pesci is strong, and the evidence of that is in how he holds you and how he feels and how effortlessly he holds you against him, pulling you slightly closer so he can unhook your bra. 

That fabric falls from you and though you want to pull yourself in and hide from prying eyes, you make an effort not to - an effort that’s rewarded when Pesci’s eyes darken. One of his hands comes around, cupping the weight of your breast in his hand, thumbs working over your nipple so you bite back a whimper of desire. When he hears the noise he leans in, and - checking it’s alright before he does it - he kisses your nipple, licks at it, until it hardens beneath his continued attention. You moan as he transfers his concentration to the other, fingers gently tangling in his hair. You tug slightly as he brushes the sensitive bud with his teeth, and he moans against you in turn. 

He pulls back from you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly open. 

“Should we . . . both?” He asks, and you bite your lip. 

“Maybe . . . together?” You reply, halting. Gratefully, Pesci nods, and for a few moments you busy yourself with jean zips and buttons and the sliding down of fabric of your thighs, peeking at Pesci from on the floor. He peels his bodysuit off his skin - and you’re surprised to see how scarred he is. Emotions well up in your chest. You want to kiss every single scar he has, reassure him of how handsome you think he is, make him sigh and gasp and bend into your touch . . .

And then you see the bulge in his tight underwear and your entire face is suddenly awash in heat. You don’t know what you’d been expecting - but you’re not sure you were expecting that. 

Pesci sees your reaction - you’re expecting him to apologise and worry and pull his clothes back on, but he surprises you by just smiling bashfully. Oh, he knows why you’re responding like that . . . the confidence on him imbues you with some confidence of your own, stoking the flames of your arousal low in your stomach, and you lose your jeans completely. 

“You’re beautiful,” Pesci says, entirely honest, as his eyes drink in the sight of you bare before him. “I can’t believe . . .”

His hands skim over your hips, your breasts, your thighs. 

“Do you wanna help me take them off?” You ask, motioning to the scrap of silk and lace that’s passing as underwear. Hey - this was a special day! You wanted to wear something nice! 

“Yes,” Pesci breathes. His hands are warm on your thighs. You feel the fabric stick to the slick valley between your legs and you know from the way that pesci looks at you and bites his lip, all dark-eyed and desiring, that Pesci feels it too. “For me?” He asks, his tone almost teasing. You nod, embarrassed, at the tent in the front of his underwear. 

“If that’s for me too,” you say, and he grins. 

By degrees he pushes you onto the bed, gently parting your thighs. He looks between your legs for a moment; the glint of light on your slick folds, the way your clit peeks out, swollen, from between plump labia lips. He breathes in, deep and needy. 

He touches you first, coaxing you out with soft strokes, the flicker of his fingertips against that same swollen clit. He’s clearly unsure of what he’s doing - but God, how you love him for seeing your anxiousness and taking charge. God, how you love the little smile he gives when you moan or gasp or your hips buck up helplessly to get him to touch you more. 

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he says, dry-voiced, as he pushes down his own underwear. You bite your lip looking at his cock - thick, flushed, tip ruddy with need. You’d thought you’d be afraid of it - even you, with your limited experience with them, knew that Pesci was packing a sizeable heat - but as it’s revealed to you, and as Pesci bucks his hip against yours so his cock slides slippery against your sex, you find that you’re longing to have him inside of you. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you say, reaching up, winding your arms about his neck, your fingers once more tangling in the green strands. “You’re perfect.”

“No,” Pesci says, smiling. He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, at the same time as you feel the head of his cock gently breach the first few millimetres of your entrance. Your fingers tighten. “You’re perfect.”

He slides himself in slowly, letting you get used to the stretch of him inside you. Every so often, he pauses, letting you take a deep breath, readjust - and as he reaches his hilt, where you two are pressed most thoroughly against one another, he stills entirely. 

“Tell me when I can move, amore,” he breathes, his voice cracked and straining. You can hear the desire for more in his tone - and you’re glad that he, too, wants to fuck you until you can’t walk straight. The stretch of him inside you is slightly uncomfortable, yes - but more than discomfort, your body is crying out for more stimulation. For Pesci to claim you utterly. 

“Please move,” you reply, instead, and as he pulls out with a slick stroke, you pull him into a messy kiss to hide the needy whines that are issuing from your mouth. There’s nothing, for a time, aside from the sound of his skin slapping against yours. The slick noise of your sex welcoming him with every stroke. Yours and Pesci’s heavy breathing, the way your lips press together and go slack as each of you are overwhelmed by sensation. 

He strokes places inside of you that you never knew needed stroking, alights fire where you didn’t realise one could even be aflame. He fits inside you perfectly, and your body knows it. You breathe out soft epithets of how much you love him and how good he feels interspersed with breathy little pleas. A little faster, a little harder--

He’s eager to please, and he responds to every single request by readjusting himself and making sure that you’re as satisfied as you can be. In return, you grind your hips against him and nip at his neck and kiss and run fingers over his skin, delighting every time he sighs or groans inside you. And through it all, a tight ball of heat in the middle of your stomach makes itself known. It tugs and pulls at you, stoked by the feel of his cock against your inner walls, edging at your vision and your throat until you feel like you’re going to fall apart. 

“Pesci,” you whimper against him, sweat-soaked and breathless, “Pesci, I’m going to--”

“Please, cara,” he says, “I want you too, please come for me--”

And you cannot hold it back anymore. The tides wash over you as the ball inside of you explodes into a hundred pieces, pleasure washing over you as you feel yourself pump slick over Pesci’s cock, your inner walls spasming and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

He growls low in the back of his throat, a noise that might have been a swear dropping from his lips, his hips snapping into you in quick succession three, four more times--

He comes inside you, his face more animal than man, and your body gives another low throb of desire at seeing your shy, nervous boyfriend embrace his instinct more. You’ve always known he had the capability to be more than the nervous, stammering wreck that he thinks he is - but seeing it written so clearly on his face . . . You whimper as the rock of his cock and the emptiness when he pulls out of your soaking sex sends a shivering aftershock through your body, your breathing coming in needy little gasps.

Pesci murmurs your name as he lays beside you, settling down, pulling sweat-soaked skin against sweat-soaked skin to whisper his adoration of you into your hair. Exhausted, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and let your eyes drift closed as you settle into the comfortable and familiar embrace of your boyfriend.

“I love you,” you tell him, before you let the sleep claim you. Your thighs feel sticky from both his come and your own; your body feels exhausted from the rocking against him, from the intensity of your orgasm - but above all, you feel happy. Pleased. Relaxed as Pesci settles beside you. You’re glad you waited for him - a thousand lonely nights would be worth one perfect night with Pesci. 

And you feel very glad that you didn’t take up Prosciutto’s offer. 

A little part of you, deep inside, flares with a thought, recalling Prosciutto’s exact words when he’d tried to cajole you into his way of thinking: you hope that Pesci tells him about this too.

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg i honestly didn't think it would get this far (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Heads Up- Part 4 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"Jojo! Wake up!" Caesar yelled from a neighboring tabletop in Joseph's room.

"Alright, alright," he groaned, groggily. "You make such a great alarm clock," he laughed, as he rubbed his eyes and stretched out with a yawn.

It had been four days now since Caesar first came alive, and Joseph was surprised how quickly the living artwork had just sort of become part of everyday life. Somehow, even a talking lump of painted clay very quickly assimilated into his "normal"-- if anything could even be considered normal anymore in this situation.

Joseph stood up and began to plod lazily to the kitchen for breakfast, but was stopped by an angry shout.

"HEY! Are you forgetting something?" yelled Caesar from his bedside table.

"Ok, I'm sorry, clay boy!" Joseph grumbled crankily in response, stomping over to the table. Hell hath no fury than a sleepless artist without his morning coffee.

Caesar was quite heavy, being made of dense clay, and Joseph struggled to lower him down to the floor. As Caesar could only jump a few inches at a time, it had become a regular routine for Joseph to lift and lower him onto tables and platforms, as he was completely helpless when placed high off the floor.

"There, happy now?" Joseph groaned, as he lumbered off to the kitchen. Caesar bounced his way after him, cursing under his breath about Joseph's long striding legs that made it hard for the bust to keep up.

As Joseph poured and stirred his morning coffee, Caesar impatiently hopped about the kitchen floor. "Don't tell me you're gonna place me onto the table again."

Joseph smiled between sips. "Alright, you've been through a lot already. Perhaps it's my turn to go down to your level." Bending down, he set his cup gently on the floor, and sat down cross-legged on the wooden kitchen floor, leaning his back against the wall.

Creator and creation sat side-by-side having breakfast-- a surreal scene that was now a part of Joseph's every morning. As he took another sip, Joseph absent-mindedly offered Caesar some of his coffee.

"Want a taste? It's brewed." he asked.

"I am a clay bust," Caesar reminded him. "I don't drink."

"Oh yeah, sorry. Suit yourself then," Joseph said, taking another sip of the hot, fragrant liquid.

A thought crossed Joseph's curious mind. "Say, Caesar, what's it like being a bust? Do you feel any needs? Hungry, thirsty, bathroom, tiredness?"

Caesar pondered for a moment. "Hungry and thirsty? Certainly not. Though I do feel sleepy at times. And bathroom, forget about it." Joseph giggled.

"You're such a mysterious creature, Caesar," he said. "And that's coming from someone who made you."

Caesar sighed --somehow, as he didn't seem to breathe, yet could speak.

"I don't know how I work, or why," he said, somewhat exasperated, "and I'm not sure how I'm even alive in the first place. Yet I'm glad I am, somehow. I guess life as a bouncing head is better than no life at all."

Joseph gently stroked Caesar's nub of a shoulder.

There was a knock on the door. "Jojo! Caesar! It's me again!"

"Gimme a sec, Suzi!" Joseph called back, gulping the last of his coffee and placing it on the sink. He went over to the door, and was once again greeted with the usual cheerful smile.

"Oh great," Caesar groaned, bouncing his way over to the living room. "It's her again."

Suzi entered the house, but Joseph blocked her. "Wait. You swear nobody else knows about Caesar? Just us?"

"He's our little secret," she replied with a wink. With a sigh of relief Joseph allowed her to enter, locking the door behind her.

"Hello Caesar!" she greeted the bust, stooping down and playfully tapping his nose as a welcoming gesture, to his visible annoyance.

"Why are you here again?" demanded the bust. "Here to handle me again? Cause I don't like it."

"About that..." Joseph said uneasily.

"You see, Caesar, I've got classes to attend every week. I'm gonna have to head to university today to pass my assignments, and since I can't leave you alone...I've arranged for her to stay over today!"

"Great, you hired a babysitter," Caesar whined sarcastically. "I'd clap if I had hands."

"Don't worry, it'll be fun!" Suzi said, taking off her backpack and placing it on the floor. "Joseph told me he sees you're very bored, stuck in the house all day with nothing to do, so I figured I'd try doing some activities with you to pass the time."

------

With Joseph away for the afternoon, it was only Suzi and Caesar in the house. She'd brought some books, a few toy blocks, and colored pencils and paper, which she spread all over the living room floor.

"What can you do with those lips of yours?" Suzi asked Caesar.

"Pretty much everything," Caesar said. "I don't have any arms or hands, so I'm pretty much forced to do all the picking up and holding things with my mouth. Thank Joseph for sculpting these lovely, flexible lips," he huffed, somewhat amused.

Suzi smiled, picking up a sheet of paper. "You could perhaps work on your dexterity! I figured you should try practicing some fun activities to improve your skills!"

"Anything," Caesar moaned. "It's been very dull here."

Caesar's first activity was learning how to write and draw. Bending over as low as he could without falling on his face, he awkwardly picked up one of the pencils in his mouth. He hopped closer to the paper, which Suzi had propped up vertically against a clipboard, and slowly, cautiously brought the point closer to the paper.

"There you go", Suzi encouraged, sitting beside him. "And now...gently press the tip to the paper."

"Mrrph hrr shr ymm ehh?" Caesar mumbled incoherently with the pencil in his mouth.

Suzi laughed. "You can't talk when you're holding something, huh. Don't worry, you're doing great, just carefully hold the pencil."

With a great deal of effort Caesar tried to write his own name. It was a bit of a challenge trying to gauge how much pressure he had to apply to the pencil, as he couldn't figure out how hard to press the point.

*SNAP!* The pencil point snapped off as Caesar pressed too hard. Frustrated, Caesar spat out the broken pencil onto the floor.

"Damn it!" Caesar yelled, pressing his forehead against the paper in complete vexation.

"Ok, ok, don't be mad," Suzi reassured. "Here, have another pencil," she said, gently placing another, sharpened pencil in Caesar's mouth. "It won't hurt to try again."

------

"I'm hoooome!" Joseph called out from the door, as he entered the front door. It was already night time by the time he returned, with the evening sky graced by a bright quarter moon.

"Jojo! You're back!" Suzi said excitedly. "I've been waiting so long for you!"

"Why?" said Joseph, with a hint of concern. "How's Caesar?"

"Oh, he has a little surprise to show you," she replied, tugging urgently on his arm.

She led Joseph into the living room, where Caesar sat on the floor next to a piece of paper on a clipboard. On it were a few scribbles, almost like a toddler's drawings, and on the top, scrawled in illegible, wiggly handwriting --or rather, mouthwriting-- were the letters, C-A-E-S-A-R, with each letter a different color.

Joseph couldn't hold back a smile. It felt oddly flattering that his artwork...was creating his own artwork. An art-ception, perhaps.

"I love the colors," Joseph complimented.

"Only because my pencil broke with every letter," Caesar complained.

"He's been learning very quickly, I've been teaching him how to use his mouth to do things! He may just be a head, but he's come pretty far in figuring out how to get tasks done on his own," Suzi explained, almost like a kindergarten teacher meeting with a student's parent.

Caesar smiled at her. She may have been quite intimidating, even frightening, when she first met him, but he'd gradually warmed up to her as the day went on.

"Say, Caesar," grinned Joseph, reaching into a paper bag he had brought home. "I've got a surprise of my own for you!" He pulled out a small, fancy hat and a bowtie, which he proudly showed off to his clay creation. Caesar recoiled at the sight.

"What...the hell are those?" he groaned.

"Suzi said you were, uhm, naked, so I figured I ought to get you dressed up," Joseph smirked.

"I don't even have a body to expose!" Caesar tried to rationalize.

He grumbled irately as Joseph lifted him up onto the living room table, placing the hat gently onto his head, careful not to ruin the clay spikes of his hair. He then tied the bowtie around Caesar's neck, with a customized collar that covered up the bare portions of his flesh-colored bare torso.

"I look ridiculous, Jojo," Caesar groaned, as he looked at his own reflection in the mirror. But without hands, there was no way he could take off his new, fancy accessories, and was resigned to abide with his fashion choice.

"I think it looks handsome on you," Suzi assured with an awkward smile.

Caesar looked back at his reflection, decked out in whatever little clothing he could wear. And as silly as he felt, he couldn't help but also feel a bit grateful.

"Say, Suzi, what are you up to today?" Joseph quipped.

"I hadn't been doing much, really. I graduated a year ahead of you, so I'm pretty much vacant these days," she sighed.

"You don't suppose you could visit more?" Joseph requested. "I'm sure Caesar would appreciate the company."

"I live just a few blocks down the road!" Suzi replied, grinning brightly. "I wouldn't mind staying overnight every now and then!"

"Alright!" Joseph cheered, pumping his fists in joy. "Won't you like that, Cae? Getting to hang out with friends?"

"Friends," mumbled Caesar with a tip of his head, as a smile crept across his smooth, clay face.

"I would love that very much indeed."

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

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

[lyssismagical]

When did I become the one who's always chasing your heart?

Parkner Week Day Six: “We’ve all made a ‘Happy Birthday’ sign” / coming of age / getting older

yes this is entirely based off the Frozen 2 song, Lost in the Woods 

 Being a year apart in age had never been a problem for them. It’s not like it was a big thing to be a whole twelve month difference in age. Peter’s the younger of the two, when they started dating he was fifteen and Harley was sixteen. Nobody at school blinked an eye at a sophomore and a junior dating.

It wasn’t like it was a big deal, the tiny age difference didn’t change anything.

Until Harley’s eighteenth birthday comes around.

It’s late August and they’ve been ignoring talking about the big change coming up. Harley’s graduated. Tony’s helping him move to Boston. Harley’s going to be gone in three weeks.

They’ve never really spent a lot of time apart. They’ve gone a week or two whenever Harley flies down to Tennessee to his family, they went all of July apart the first year they were together when Harley was home and Peter went to a nerdy summer camp with Ned. They don’t spend every waking moment together, but they’re used to seeing each other all the time, always being close enough to see if they want to.

With Harley living at the tower, they had sleepovers every weekend, they would walk to school together and Harley always walked Peter home, they spent lunches together, they had Academic Decathlon together. They spent a lot of time together.

And now they’d have to spend months apart.

Sure, Harley could drive. Tony had gifted him a car for his sixteenth birthday, and Harley would only be a few hours drive away from New York. He could come home every weekend if he wanted to.

But everything would be different.

Peter wasn’t sure if he was prepared for everything to change.

Which led to a big blowup fight after a few weeks of Peter burying the problem and trying to prepare himself for losing Harley.

“Talk to me!” Harley shouts, hands lifting in exasperation before falling back to his sides. His voice echoes into the darkness, the moon shining back onto them where they’re standing on the roof for the only piece of privacy they can really get away from Friday. “If you’d just communicate, maybe things wouldn’t be falling apart! Just talk to me!”

“I’m sorry.” Peter’s voice is an awful contrast to Harley’s shout, sad and pitifully small. His shoulders hunch over himself and he rocks back on his feet.

Harley drops to barely a whisper, “Talk to me, Peter. I can’t read your mind.”

“I’m scared that this is it.” He waves a hand between them, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “I’m scared that you’re going to run off to Boston and see what the world has to offer, you’re going to see all these people and everything’s going to seem so big and so bright, and you’re not going to be able to remember why you’re tied down here with me.”

Harley visibly recoils at the way Peter spits the last word. “Peter-”

“Don’t pretend like nothing is changing. We’ve been pretending for the last six months that everything’s going to stay the same, but it won’t. You’re going to be in college, Harley. You’re going to be in Boston while I’m trying to make it through senior year. I’m going to be your silly high school boyfriend and everyone’s going to tell you to let go of the one thing that’s holding you back. I’m scared!”

They both know how Harley would’ve reacted normally, with soft reassurances and even softer touches, defusing the situation and making everything okay, but they’ve had pent-up stress because of the other for so many weeks, that it’s hard for him to draw that kind of strength.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Harley demands, flipping back to angry without a second thought. “You think that just because Boston is new, that I’m three hours away, that I’m going to just move on without you? You think I’m so shallow that I’m going to get distracted by every pretty face I see? Are you worried I’ll cheat on you too? Is that really how low your opinions of me are?”

“Of course not-”

“Obviously it is if that’s what you’ve been so worried about.” Harley rolls his eyes and takes a step back, raking a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Peter, I know I’ll be in a different state, but it’s not like it’ll be hard to come see you or vice versa. I love you and moving to Boston isn’t going to change that.”

Peter rubs his cheeks, trying to rid himself of the tears that fall before Harley sees them, but it’s pointless as more take their places. “That’s not what I meant. I just- I’m me, Harley. I’m just Peter Parker. I wouldn’t- I’d never hold it against you if you-”

“If you dare finish that sentence with anything along the lines of me leaving you for somebody else, I swear to god, I’ll tell Tony you’re self-deprecating again.”

The older boy steps close enough that he can touch Peter, hands running up his biceps and over his shoulders, across his jaw and they stop, cupping his cheeks.

“You’re not just anything, darlin’,” Harley says. “Don’t believe that bullshit you tell yourself about not being enough because it’s not true. You’re more than enough and I love you.”

And it should be that simple.

But when is it ever that simple?

Things are still tense between them. Peter spends his time watching Harley, wondering if he’ll have to say goodbye to him and everything between them. He spends those quiet nights at the tower, curled up against Harley’s chest, trying to convince himself he’ll be okay without it.

Harley’s obviously working twice as hard to make everything work between them, asking Tony to set him up a credit card account with enough money for gas to make it to New York every weekend, if he can, for his birthday gift instead of whatever extravagant gift he was planning.

But despite Harley’s efforts, they fight over little things every few days, always ending with Peter crying and Harley, cursing himself, crying too because he’s always been a sympathy crier when it comes to Peter.

And after every fight, Peter wishes more and more that Harley won’t be leaving when their relationship is in such a rocky place.

“So, Harley’s birthday party tomorrow?” Tony says, very carefully broaching the topic.

Peter’s eyes are still wet and red-rimmed, moisture still clinging to his jaw where his tears had caught, hair still sticking up from where he’d been tugging at it.

“Yeah,” Peter mumbles, accepting the offered glass of water. “I don’t know, things are… bad right now, to say the least.”

“You’ll still come to his birthday party, right?”

Peter shrugs, but then he nods. He can’t miss Harley’s birthday party. That would be the last piece of their relationship falling apart, and he doesn’t want to be responsible for that. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Should we decorate?”

“Yeah, we’ll decorate. You wanna make a banner? I think Morgan’s paint is still in the living room.”

So Peter works away making a banner for the birthday party, trying not to think too much while Tony starts blowing up balloons, before he finally breaks.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tony asks.

“Nothing much to say,” Peter says thickly. He doesn’t want to talk to Tony about how young and small and insignificant he feels in comparison to Harley’s upcoming year. He doesn’t want to talk about how they fought for nearly an hour about something as small as cooking. It was obvious where the fight was going, how they were planning on living together once Peter graduates, but neither of them ever mentioned it in real words.

Tony shrugs, lifting an eyebrow. “Well, I can’t offer much advice, I still have no idea how I ended up marrying Pepper, but there’s one thing I know for sure. Harley loves you, kid. Like a crazy amount. He looks at you like you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. I don’t think I’ve seen that kind of love ever except for how much you love him. That much is painfully obvious. I’m really glad you two found each other.”

“You really think it’ll work? Me here and Harley in Massachusetts?”

“If anyone was ever meant to be, if there was such thing as soulmates, I’d bet my money on the two of you.”

*

Peter holds one end of the banner, trying his best to look casual as he blinks back an onslaught of tears, while they wait for Harley to arrive to the surprise party.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to see Harley, and it’s not like he isn’t happy for his boyfriend. The last thing he wants to do is ruin his birthday party. But Peter’s still scared that if he says the wrong thing, it’ll be over for them and that’s the last thing he wants.

May squeezes his shoulder, offering a reassuring smile.

And then the elevator doors slide open.

Harley, for his part, looks just as much of a mess as Peter does. His hair is sticking up messily like he’d been pulling at it, eyes still a little bit puffy and red, remnants of old tears still shining in the corners of his eyes. But he smiles when he sees them in the living room, eyes lingering on Peter for a beat too long.

“Happy birthday!” they all call out, but the tension in the room is already rising from Peter and Harley, neither of them wanting to say anything in front of their family.

“Wow, thanks y’all.”

Tony rolls his eyes dramatically, letting the banner fall from his hands. “Alright. We’re going to go out, pick up some food for dinner later, and pick up your mom and sister from the airport. You two are going to have two hours alone here to fix this because I’m tired of you two dancing around the problems and being miserable all the time.”

Pepper laughs, quickly drawing Harley into a hug and then ushering Morgan to get her shoes on. May hugs both boys, pressing kisses to both their foreheads.

“Have fun!” Tony calls out, waving everybody into the elevator and winking at the boys before it closes behind them leaving Harley and Peter alone.

Peter lifts the drooping banner half-heartedly before letting it crumple to the floor. “Happy Birthday, Harls.”

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Harley admits, shrugging. He’s frowning, hands lifting in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” He knows it’s the best way to start mending the breaks. “I shouldn’t have been so upset over everything lately. I know this is on me. I should’ve been supportive and happy for you when you got into MIT. I should’ve had faith in us. I should’ve-”

Harley shakes his head, stepping closer to Peter to bridge the gap. “This isn’t just on you. I didn’t understand how hard this would be for you. I know it feels like I’m moving on without you, that I’m going to be farther away than I’ve ever been permanently, and I know you feel like it’d be easier if you distanced yourself now to make it easier when I’m gone, but I promise I’ll be here, darlin’. I’ll come see you every weekend, we’ll call all the time and facetime and text, and we could meet up on school nights if we meet halfway. Change isn’t always a bad thing.”

Sniffling, Peter moves into Harley’s open arms, desperate to feel close to Harley again. It’s been a very hard couple weeks for them and Peter misses him so badly. “I know. I trust you and I love you, I just- It’s hard to feel like you’ll be experiencing all these things without me, you know? I just sometimes wish we could’ve done it together.”

“I know but it’s not a race, sweetheart. It’s not like I’m winning a race just because I’m moving out and going to college before you. It’s not a competition, it never was.”

There will be plenty more fights in the future, and they’ll have to get used to all the change, but Peter believes in them and he loves Harley. That’s all that’s ever mattered.

He leans up onto his toes to kiss Harley, something in his chest finally settling at the reconciliation. He’s missed him a lot over the tense fighting from the past little while.

They’ve got two hours of time to talk and figure things out, but most importantly, they have plenty of time to catch up on missed time.

*

They make it through the year with flying colours.

Harley drives out to New York at every chance, even if it means having to do homework in Peter’s room instead of everything they want to do. Homework’s always nicer when he gets to have Peter in his lap while he does it.

Peter gets a car for his seventeenth birthday and he drives out to meet Harley halfway for cute dates every couple weeks when they can swing it.

They text constantly. To the point where Peter ends up in after-school detention for the majority of the year from texting during class. Not that he really minds, the teacher sleeps during detention so Peter can spend that time texting Harley too.

As a Christmas gift, Tony lets them stay at his renovated Malibu Mansion alone, as long as they promise to be home during Spring Break and keep the PDA to a minimum. Over the break, Harley helps Peter apply for MIT and they look for apartments online and create a collection for how they plan on decorating their apartment.

In February, Peter gets his letter of acceptance from MIT, and Harley goes all out for a Valentine’s Day date to celebrate.

Harley gets home in April and he spends most of the month and the two that follow, helping Peter study for exams. They go to Peter’s Senior Prom together, and Harley cheers the loudest when Peter crosses the stage at graduation.

They spend the entire summer like they’re lovesick teenagers, making up for all the lost time from the year, and getting prepared to be living together in Boston starting in the fall. Pepper nearly dies laughing when she sees the Ikea budget Tony set that they managed to blow, not that Tony minds, on new furniture.

In September, they move into their apartment together, happier than they’ve ever been and so crazy in love. May and Tony both cry while Morgan and Pepper roll their eyes at their dramatics.

They’ve got their whole future ahead of them. This is only the beginning. 

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[raendown]

I was bribed in to this by @rookie-d and @sleepysenseis and I regret nothing. Show some love to Rookie’s art for this au as well!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1893 Rated: G Summary: Owning and running a bakery with his husband isn't exactly where he thought life would take him but Tobirama wouldn't trade this for the world.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Patissier-pation Award

The familiar chime of a bell greeted him first as he walked through the front door, eyes down to inspect the mail he had gathered on his way in. Mostly junk, a couple of bills, and a letter that he would bet his entire bank account had come from Hashirama. He would know those graceless spiky letters anywhere. Off on some nature retreat for the past month, there was little doubt this letter would be filled with the same rambling nonsense as the last one had been, lengthy descriptions of the woman he had apparently fallen in love with at first sight. 

Under the hum of halogen lights and the ever present smell of baked goods Tobirama could hear a slight groaning sound that made him smile. Instead of going to look for the source right away he continued to flip through the mail until he had sorted junk from bills, slipping behind the till counter to put everything in its right place. Running their own shop was hard work some days but always worth it in the end. While he was there he tidied a few receipts from the day before and used a nearby rag to wipe off a bit of icing probably smeared around by a customer’s child. Only when he was satisfied that everything was in order did he finally turn to look at the plush couch set just a little ways apart from the rest of the seating area. During peak hours the various armchairs and stools were usually filled with people taking a few minutes to enjoy the treats they had just purchased. 

Since right now was not peak hours the only person to be found was Madara, stretched out across the couch that Tobirama had quietly purchased just for moments like these. A fond smile touched his lips as he watched his favorite idiot rub at a full belly with furrowed brows. 

“How many of those tarts actually made it on to the shelves?” Tobirama called out to him with a lightly scolding tone. 

“Most of them!” Madara shot back. Then he groaned again while both hands paused to delicately cup his stomach. “I could have sworn I only ate a few. Just to taste test. Quality checking is important!” 

“I see.”

The argument might have been a bit more believable if Madara didn’t use the same one every time he overindulged in his own products. He was the one who initially came up with the idea for the two of them to open their own bakery and Tobirama supposed he should have known then that doing so would lead to regular episodes like this one. His husband was an amazing patissier but he was also his own biggest fan. Or his stomach was, at least, and Madara had never been known for denying whatever his stomach wanted. 

“Did you by any chance happen to find time to finish the Sarutobi order before you took your little snack break?” 

“Of course I did,”’ Madara huffed. Generously sacrificing one hand for a moment, he pointed imperiously towards the order counter where there indeed were three boxes with the shop logo printed on the front stacked neatly together and tied with ribbon. Inside there would be a dozen cupcakes each with, if Tobirama was remembering currently, blue icing and rainbow sprinkles arranged to spell out the recipient’s name. A fairly simple order. He wasn’t surprised Madara had finished the whole thing while he was gone, though he was surprised there had been enough time left over to gorge on the tarts he’d put in the oven before he left. 

Since he trusted his partner Tobirama didn’t offer the insult of going to check the order. Instead he mentally checked it off his list of things to do before heading in to the back to go wash his hands. There was still another order he needed to get a start on, although most of it would have to be finished tomorrow. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t have enough icing until their shipment arrived the next morning. 

A quick peek in to the fridge on his way by confirmed his suspicions. Although they still had a tub each of pink and white, yellow was running low and the red was all but entirely gone. If he tried to decorate anything he might have enough to use red for a couple of accents but certainly not enough to cover several dozen cookies in the pattern the order called for. It was a good thing all this wasn’t due to be picked up until late tomorrow. 

Hands clean, Tobirama tied an apron around his middle and began pulling out the ingredients necessary for making his specialty gingerbread, one of the quickest selling items on their menu every winter. When he was younger he never would have believed that life would take him here. As a child he’d mostly been obsessed with science and little else. Most of his career dreams had centered around NASA or biochemical research, plans for changing the world with his magnificent discoveries. Now he co-owned a bakery with his husband and spent most of his days rolling dough or decorating cakes, all in between manning the till and watching children’s faces light up as they picked out which treat they wanted to take home. It was hardly the auspicious career he’d always imagined but it was a good life, full and happy, one that he wouldn’t trade for anything. Not even for the trips to outer space he used to dream about. 

So lost in his own musings was he that it felt as though he’d only just begun mixing the dough when he looked down and found row upon row of perfectly shaped cookies all laid out before him. Some were made to look like people, some like trees, and others still were laid out in thick flat sheets with which he would later build a house. Gingerbread was always quite fun to work with. A quick count told him that he already had everything he needed as well as a couple of spares in case one or two of them burnt in the oven yet there was still just a bit of dough left over.

With a whimsical smile he reached for his tools again and began to shape a new pair of cookies.

Baking gingerbread didn’t take all that long, almost as much time as it took for them to cool once they were back out of the oven, and as he packaged everything to keep it safe for tomorrow he set his final two creations aside. It may have been a whim but he’d never sent anything out of this kitchen that hadn’t received his full effort and he wasn’t about to now. There was, after all, just enough red icing left - not to mention plenty of black. 

Madara was still draped across the couch in the front shop when Tobirama came out to check on him, one of their fancier order boxes in hand. The bellyache appeared to have passed and instead pulled the man down in to a light food coma. Long dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks when Tobirama bent to stroke one of them, rousing his husband from what looked to a very peaceful if possibly undeserved nap. 

“Mnng? I wasn’t asleep.”

“Your snoring tells another story.” 

“T-that wasn’t snoring! I was just humming a song under my breath!” 

Lifting one eyebrow, Tobirama shook his head. “Mhm, very convincing.” 

“Shut up! What’s that? I didn’t think we had anything else going out today. Did I forget something?” Madara frowned and his eyes grew distant as he went over their orders for the week in his head. 

Rather than let him suffer Tobirama simply placed the box in his lap. 

“You forgot to greet me properly when I came back from running errands but I’ll forgive you for that just this once. These are for you, if you’ve still got room in your belly.” 

“Oh?” 

Always intrigued by the promise of more sweets, Madara plucked at the edge of the box to pull the tab keeping it closed out of its slot. He lifted the lid with an almost childish expression of anticipation that morphed in to a graceless full-mouthed gawk when he spotted the gift inside. Much to Tobirama’s horror, he caught sight of what looked to be tears gathering in his husband’s eye.

“Is that...us?” 

“Yes it is.”

“We’re holding hands. And you gave yourself a little fur collar just like your favorite jacket!” 

Tobirama rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He really liked that jacket. “A little extra detail never hurt anyone,” he murmured as though in protest. 

He was mortified to see Madara cradle the cookies in one palm so he could use his other hand to gently stroke the little red icing lines marking where Tobirama had tattooed his own face during a rebellious youth. The number of times Madara had given those marks the same gentle attention were uncountable and it never failed to draw a little color in to his cheeks, embarrassed that his heart could be so softened by such a simple gesture. 

“Just eat them and go back to moaning about your belly,” he grumbled even as he leaned in to the touch. Madara huffed at him in amusement. 

“What brought this on, hm? I feel like I’m being rewarded for something.” 

“It was a whim and nothing more.” 

Something about that seemed the right thing to say as Madara puffed up like he’d been complimented, as though being gifted cookies made out of leftover dough were the greatest gesture of love. 

“Thinking about me, were you?” his husband asked with a sly undertone. 

“I am always thinking of you,” Tobirama admitted. It was true so he saw no reason to deny it. 

Madara blinked once. “Oh. Well...I’m always thinking of you too. So there!” 

Both of them blushing and flustered, two silly little gingerbread men still held ever so carefully in one of Madara’s palms, Tobirama was eternally grateful there were no customers in the shop to witness the disgustingly sweet scene they were surely making. With a rough clearing of his throat he pulled away and cast his eyes anywhere else in the room. 

“Right,” he said gruffly, “eat your cookies. I’m going to go take inventory so we can call in another supply order tomorrow.” Spinning on his heel relieved him of the sight of his beloved husband cradling such precious if silly gifts but it did not spare him the sound of a quiet voice trailing after his rapid footsteps. 

“I love you.” 

Tobirama wrinkled his nose against the wave of mushy feelings in his chest until the urge to turn around and throw himself down on the couch with his partner had faded. He stepped out with purpose, with dignity, with every intention of going to make himself useful for the rest of the afternoon. But he did pause in the doorway to the kitchen long enough to turn his head to one side. 

“Love you too,” he murmured. 

It felt like capitulation but, then, Madara had already won his heart many years before and the life they’d built together would always be sweeter than any treat he could bake for himself. 

[k347]

A little note for all the wonderful people who are taking a moment out of their precious time to visit this little online space I created...

(I felt the need to write this because of some 'not so great' anon asks I've been getting ever since I started here and also because I've witnessed several of both, the good and bad fandom meltdowns in these couple of years)

From My Heart To Yours-

If it isn't clear to you by the kind of things I post or if you are new to this page, let me clarify it in one single sentence. This Is A Stucky+Evanstan Blog. There will always be mostly (if not all) evanstan and stucky content posted here. If you are uncomfortable with the ship, feel free to filter the 'evanstan' / 'rpf'/ stucky tags. I completely understand why it can be bothersome, icky for people, why some of you might disapprove of it. I acknowledge, respect and understand your views, feelings and opinions, I truly do. All I am asking out of you is to not be disrespectful, dissmissive about those of mine. Please understand that you don't have to see the things/content you don't want to on your dash. The block and unfollow buttons, options for filtering tags are there for a reason. Feel free to use them if you are uncomfortable with a blog or person (including me). It'll be taking the high road and bowing out gracefully if you make a habit of using these available options instead of passing around judgements and unnecessarily cruel critisism about people whom you've never even met/ know nothing about.

Personally I adore both of these Fandom Ships. I have for a long time. But it doesn't mean I don't support you if you love/are a part of some other fandom. I don't mean to disrespect or hinder any of the other ships even if they are regarding these same characters. I try and make sure to not intrude on anyone's creative space and expect that the same attitude & decency will be returned.

This blog is my way of letting out, expressing all that love, adoration I feel. I strive to be more creative with my thoughts, my way of expression as a person with each passing day. And being a part of this fandom helps me immensely with that. I've met some amazing people online because of this. Made good friends. It is a very dear thing to me. I have talked to folks who've experienced online hate from unreasonable, anonymous sources, I've also experienced a fair share of it myself. As someone who is a psychology-enthusiast-&-student-for-life, I can assure you the (good/casual/neutral/bad/hateful) things you say to or about people leave their impacts. Not just on them, but on you too. It might seem insignificant or small, irrelevant even; but it does change the way your thoughts work in daily life. Be careful and stop before you train your mind to naturally focus more on the bad things about other people rather than the good ones. So again, I kindly request you to not be mean or hurtful to anyone you meet online (or even in real life, actually.) Offering disrespect and negativity never made anything better in the history of ever.

Lastly I would like to give my two cents about another issue (that I feel can get really toxic if we are not careful) with the fandom culture. I have made no secret of the fact that I am a fan of Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans. Yes, I have and will always post a lot of appreciation posts about them (solo and together), their works and projects, some old tbt moments. You will even find imagines, headcanons, theories, fanfics about them along with the ones about the fictional characters they have played/continue to play.

But that doesn't mean I am going to act delusionally and ignore/ unacknowledge the fact that both of them are their own person. Two actual, real human beings. I don't mean to project any of this content that I am creating on them and their lives. Making anybody uncomfortable is not my intention behind doing this, not at all. I prefer to look at it this way- "This is a world that I've created in my own mind. For fun and entertainment. Sort of like an AU. Parallel Timeline. But please understand that the stories, theories, things I'll post and write on here are pure conjecture, a lot of speculations. Hypothesis and supposition. I don't want to lose the grasp on reality and be drawned in it too much or completely, up to the point at which violation of real people's boundaries starts to become a usual routine and doesn't feel wrong."

I do not agree with the mentality of blaming, hating on people/past partners in their lives for no other apparent reason than the fact that 'they know my favs'. I completely agree that there are actions and things which people need to be held accountable for at times. Yes, you can talk about it with me but please try and remain respectful (if not that, at least be decent enough) toward all the parties involved.

Even though we as fans have invested a lot of our time, creative efforts and emotions in these two men; It does not mean they owe us, or need to explain every part of their personal/professional lives.

Please remember and don't let it be hard for you to accept the fact that these two people are not the exact fanfic versions of themselves that you read about on tumblr, they are not some experminted and perfected, flawless personalities that you've created in your own minds. It is possible for humans to mess up at times. It is only natural. Don't judge people based only on their worst mistakes, or more precisely the negative stuff you read 'online' (which 9/10 times is pure speculation and made up. fake. not facts.) Chris and Seb do not need to cater to every whim and need of the fans, they do not need to make decisions based on what people feel about them online. They can and should do whatever they want to with their lives without having to experience judgement and public scrutiny about every little step taken. Please stop putting celebrities on a pedestal and measuring them up to some impossible, unrealistic standards. If you feel too much devastation, hurt over some action of your 'fav', my advice would be to take a step back. Relax. Distance yourself from the Fandom for a bit. Do not let the 'stanning' consume you, your behaviour, rational thought process and most importantly don't let it ruin your kindness.

I love the analogy that there lives a good and a bad wolf inside every human being. Your reactions, response to things, all of it depends on which wolf you decide to feed and empower at the given moment. Choose kindness. Choose gentler responses. Choose Love over Hatred. Always.

I think the lovely @musette22 (who btw, is one of the most compassionate, talented and creative people I've met here, because of our shared love for these boys 💙) voiced this thing better than I ever could.

My apologies, if the note got too long and too deep for your liking.

I promise I am not always this boring and 'let-me-lecture-you' kind of a person 😂

On this Blog you'll also find-

A lot of silly Ramblings, Scribbles and Rants

Lot of terrible jokes and puns (you know the kind where they are so bad that they're good😅)

Fluff and smut

Q and A with the anons.

AUs

Speculations, ideas and a lot of gushing

Reblogs from all these great, talented, amazing people in the fandom

A lot of 'Marvel' things

Incorrectly placed correct quotes

Sometimes extreme use of emoticons and gifs

😂♥️😄🔥😜👻💌💦💪😇🤷

Running commentary, discussions about newly released information, keeping tracks, meltdowns, breakdowns, again rambling! , ocassional full doses of sarcasm

Sometimes going 'too much in detail' 😉

My attempts at writing stuff

A lot of content for Evanstan and Stucky

Drawing parallels, a lot of 'connecting the dots' between Chris and Seb content. Weaving the pieces of informations together.

Headcanons and stories inspired from that.

Low key, actually at times very very high key roasting of Endgame.

Lots and lots of love + appreciation showered on the movies in Captain America Triology.

Getting nostalgic and adoring the good old memories, Celebrating the present moments and Wishing for many more happy ones in the future.

All of you are very welcome here!

My ask box is always open for anyone and everyone who is interested. Send asks, questions, prompts, requests, suggetions, your ideas, theories anytime you want.

I am always up for conversations and discussions.

Lots of Love,

@k347

💙

[danddymaro]

Sunshine |Revolver Ocelot X Reader

-╮( ꒪౪꒪)╭ 

Ocelot is one fine man. 

And of course, I’m not gonna bash sweet, little Quiet here.

BTW It’s still the same concept as the other MGSV things I've posted, simply because it’s just easier for me to start with a clean slate on a character, especially one who is a reader insert.

Sunshine

Cold droplets fell from the grayed sky, raining down on to mother base with great generosity. Large puddles were created as a result of the ongoing downpour, one's the young (h/c) haired woman had stepped over as she ventured out from her small, yet comforting room.

"There's so much rain..." She said with a small smile, not at all troubled.

It had seemed like there was no end to the falling globs of clear moisture, but at the very least they became tame as more time progressed, calming into gentle showers, ones that were more inviting than the previous large bits that fell.

Rolling her sleeve back (f/n) let her hand creep beyond the protection of the roof, letting the wet coolness touch her skin with her smile remaining unmoved.

'I love the rain,' She thought to herself, wiggling her fingers, letting the wetness glide past them.

She loved the rain, and of course, aside from her, there was someone else who adored the same downpour she did...

'Quiet...'

(f/n) thought of her more and more, so much so that whenever the precipitation came, she was the first thing that came to mind.

Because the green-eyed silent beauty also loved the rain, and she always showed appreciation for the showers, accepting the falling moisture which drenched her, enveloping her with life she had come to find oh so precious.

A familiar helicopter then approached the vicinity, hovering high above the LZ to land, and at the sight (f/n) beamed.

'I guess he's back now,' she thought happily, adding more to the joy she had felt a few moments prior.

Curious, she watched as the door opened to reveal the brunette female which had accompanied V staring out onto nature's shower.

There hadn't seemed to be a moment of thought before she stepped out, worry-free of a harsh crash. Quiet then fell from the sky, descending like a weightless feather, gracefully falling onto the wet ground. And of course, she played with the falling rain, her joyous dance having been one the (h/c) woman had witnessed before.

But unlike any other time before, (f/n) watched wide-eyed as Snake joined along.

At first, it didn't seem that it had been his intention, but the silent woman coerced him. With little effort, she convinced him to play in the mindlessness, to forget about everything else on the outside of their bubble of glee.

(e/c) eyes watched, unable to move, unable to gaze away, no matter how much her heart had clenched at the sight. She felt the muscle become well-wrung, like a dampened towel being twisted and turned dry, and she knew she probably should have looked away, pretending as though she hadn't seen a single second of it, but it was near impossible.

Her small smile slowly died, and the world began to grow silent and still for her.

By then, nothing but the two returning people existed.

It was just Snake and Quiet, as well as her still-beating heart, struggling to stay alive through it all.

Immersed, she didn't hear the steps come from behind her, nor the presence of the man that had come to join her, eyes trained on the same sight hers had been.

"Well, would you look at that, " the deep, masculine voice said aloud, the sound coming from behind her, a linger of astoundment and overall amusement present in his tone as he made himself known to the (h/c) young woman.

The platinum blonde male stopped his steps entirely, standing right beside her as he gazed down at the playful act, just as she had been doing so, easily coming to the same conclusion she had.

"They seem to have taken a liking to each other... Getting along better than I expected," Ocelot mused, a hand holding his chin as he seemed to smile coyly.

Moving just her eyes, the woman took notice of his expression, swallowing down her bitter spit.

'It's not just me then,' (f/n) thought dryly, knowing she wasn't just seeing things where they weren't.

Drawing her eyes back to the pair she drew a shallow breath, " Seems like it... doesn't it?" She said with a forced smile being formed, one that came out lopsided and imperfect, a twitching mess that just couldn't pass as a genuine show of happiness.

All the while, she felt a small pin needle repeatedly jabbing at her heart as she forced the perkier tone to be shoved out her mouth. She felt a stinging pain come from within her chest, an annoying ache she couldn't do away with, which only grew more prominent as she stared on at the pair with glowing envy.

'I'm jealous...I'm jealous and I can't even hide it...'

" In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him actually smile," she said breathlessly, watching the brunette male's scarred face as it showed obvious joy, his smile small, yet notably stunning.

Stunning...beautiful...

'His smile is so lovely,' she thought as she stepped out more, robotically stepping into the rain herself, so immersed into the two brunette's show of affection that she didn't even realize the cold wetness had begun to blanket her, melting over her until she was soaked through.

'I had wanted nothing more than to raise one from you Snake...To get you to relax enough to show me just one...' she continued on. 'And I just knew it would be beautiful,' She mused, her hands falling onto the wet railing as she watched the equally joy-filled woman kick the wet ground playfully.

'- And of course you...' she thought. ' I knew you'd be able to do it...That's what had me terrified of you,'

(f/n)'s shoulders sank more, completely falling as she watched V do the same, responding back to the silly little game.

He seemed so different...so lively...

'He's the same man...' she reminded herself. 'He's the same man...but more open... All because of her...' she continued, placing her focus onto the woman instead, a low, drawn-out sigh leaving her.

Ocelot stepped toward the woman, a long stride of his reaching her quickly, putting him right at her side, unbothered by the downfall as well, his focus more on the (h/c) haired woman.

"You alright there Sunshine?" He asked her, his voice bringing her back from her deep thinking.

He tilted his head slightly as he stared on, fixed on her lovely, wet face.

'Sunshine,' She repeated inwardly.

He was the only one around that called her that...

In fact, he was the only one around that had a nickname for her, it being something special no one else had repeated.

Such an endearing name had been given to her, one that made her feel warmth, something she couldn't deny. Even in the present time when she felt her heart begin to be pulled apart, there was enough strength within it to grow warm.

'No one but you calls me that,' She thought with a shake to her head, a very minuscule smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

'And I've always wondered...Why?

Is there a special reason?'

"Sunshine..." he said again, followed by silence.

A small pause was set between them before he caved, asking something he'd been pondering over for while now,

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" he said softly, questioning her.

As he voiced his suspicion, the young woman's eyes grew wide, only for a fraction of a second before she shut them close, her bottom lip sinking in between her two rows of teeth, shaking her head with denial.

"No..." she muttered weakly, taking in a steady breath.

Her (e/c) eyes then peeled open, falling onto the pair once more, before slowly finding their way to the silver-haired man,

"Why?" she started, "Does it seem that way?" She asked, looking back at him with a half-hearted smile being formed.

Through the white blouse, he watched the outline of her undergarments show, her clothes having become sopping wet, clinging to her skin like a second layer.

And her hair was fully soaked as well, sticking to her face, making him press his lips together firmly,

" Can't help but see it that way," he answered her, answering truthfully.

'Otherwise you wouldn't be out here, looking so down... so heartbroken,'He thought to himself.

For him, it was as clear as day.

But he often wondered what part of him she loved, the man himself, or the legend,

What did she really feel?

She swallowed down a thick wad of spit, " No," she said with another shake to her head, " It's just that they understand each other." She said softly, " Even without speaking to one another, they were able to become so close," she added while she continued to observe the pair, her two hands melting together, palms pressed flat against each other.

"In fact, they seem almost inseparable now," she mused. " Kind of like the ocean and the sky," she continued on with a weary chuckle.

'They go together perfectly...' she added silently.

"You'd think they had a lifetime to build that trust... that level of comfort," she said whilst her fingers found their place between open spaces clasping her hands together. "In truth, I would have loved nothing more..." she trailed off, laying her forehead down onto her clasped hands, more specifically the sides of her thumbs.

It was difficult to get it off her chest, because she wasn't even sure what she felt,

Was she actually in love with Snake?

'I couldn't be...not when...well,' she stopped herself, shaking her head at the other thought that invaded her.

It was easy to simply accept that she was in love with Snake with the level of jealousy she felt, as well as with the amount of hurt she experienced when he paid attention to Quiet instead.

It would have been simple to come to the conclusion, but she knew there was so much more to it.

"I can't lie to you Adam..." she told him, "I would have loved nothing more than to be the one there with him," she revealed while she closed her eyes, finding it just a bit too hard to look at the man she was talking to.

"And I wish I could... " she added on, her voice becoming small, " I just wish I could have done the same," she admitted with a deep exhale, dropping her hands to her sides lazily in a show of frustration.

Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head as she let her confessions slip past her lips, falling onto ears she knew would be open to her.

She was relieved that of all people, Ocelot had been the one to come to her, because there was no doubt in her mind he cared.

If not, then why ask?

If not, then why always be there?

'No one else really bothers,' she mused.

"Even now while feeling such hatred for her, I still admire her," she admitted.

"I wish I could be her..." she went on. " So I could be by him, right there at his side," she said with certainty. "I wish I could be her... so then I could be strong," she explained further,

"- Strong enough to be both his weapon and shield.

Whatever he chooses.

Whatever he needs." She said with a grimace," Strong enough to be able to look him in the eye and to overcome...Overcome...This!" she choked over the last bit, hugging herself.

 "If I could have been her, I could have given him a smile," she said while forcing one of her own as she glared down at the floor.

"If I wasn't giving anything else in return then I could at the very least given him that one joy,"

He turned her towards him by using his thumb and index, taking a light hold of her chin and lifting it up.

"If I could have been her, I would have found a way to be useful and thank him for taking me in...For saving me when I was sure I would have died in some dark room alone.

Or who knows what else would have happened to me if he hadn't shown up, you know?" she asked, sniffling.

"I'm still struggling to find my place, but she fits perfectly," she added. "And far too many times I ask myself what the hell am I even doing here," she asked with distraught, feeling more than just the cool rain fall down her face.

Salted warmth fell from her (e/c) eyes to mingle with the earth's tears as she continued to open up to him, leaving her heart out on display.

"What am I even doing here besides sucking up space," she asked him, and at that, his hand moved and gently cradled her cheek.

Staring up at him with (e/c) teary eyes, she fell into his hand more.

'At least you always make it better,' She thought to herself, 'Like you have a manual to my heart, knowing just how to tweak it.

And it feels so natural,

Why can't it be this easy with him?'

Her right hand slid up his wrist to hold it, as she shut her eyes crying, comforted by that touch alone.

'Do you think I belong here?' She wondered.

Wordlessly he stepped closer, his other hand falling onto the other side of her face, holding her with a gentleness that portrayed the inner softness he felt for her, the same one he wasn't so keen on speaking of.

Leaning down to her, he let his lips fall over her wet bangs with a slow, yet tender press.

'This is the longest you've held me, as well as the closest.' she realized, feeling a tickle in her stomach.

'It feels right to be here... But at the same time, I can't help but feel wrong enjoying it as much as I am,

Like I'm taking advantage...All for another reason...

For the same reason, I'm certain I can't be in love with Snake...'

And this was yet another thing that troubled her, what stopped her from thinking she was truly in love with the other man,

"Adam..." he heard her say as she peered her eyes up at him, her (e/c) drops twinkling. He watched them glow with interest, seeing the little sparkle up close.

' I think I want another,' She thought to herself as her (dark/light) eyes skimmed over his mouth, her heart racing.

It flashed for a moment, the beautiful gaze set on him before it disappeared, her eyes finding refuge to the grey railing instead. Looking ashamed, she tore her gaze from him,

 'What was I just thinking?' She asked herself, finding herself confused, something that seemed to happen a lot more often when she was around him.

' - But I can't keep ignoring this,'

Though the droplets falling onto them were cold, there was warmth glowing over her cheeks, something he had been able to cause.

He could see it there, painted on her lovely face was a touch of red.

And a small smile formed over him as he watched the notable show of bashfulness, a sign he had his own effect on her.

"We should head inside," he suggested, his voice being just a murmur.

Still holding onto her, he had trouble drawing back, not knowing she was going through the same struggle, both people waging wars with their hearts.

Mutely she agreed, hesitantly drawing back from him,

'I don't think I have the guts to look him in the eye ever again,' she thought to herself.

He stepped out of the rain, thinking she was on his trail until he took notice of the lack of steps sounding behind him. He looked back at her, concerned as he noticed her stilled state.

"(f/n)," he said lowly, the way he said her name making her skin riddled with goosebumps as the voice reached her. Silently she watched as he came close to her, once again before her,

'It could be just the rain...'

She could blame the little bumps to the chilly precipitation, but she knew it was just a lie to herself. She was just so used to the sweet nickname, she felt strange when he called her anything else.

Anything but Sunshine ...

'His fingers are warm,' she thought idly as they fell over her (s/c) skin. 'And I love when they touch me, but more so when his entire hand falls on to me .'

His thumb slowly trailed below her eyes, checking for more tears, finding nothing but cool wetness.

She swallowed down harshly, "I..."

'I don't know what to say!' She thought helplessly, having only pushed out a word.

Seeing her flustered state, he then took a step closer, one that made her immediately take one back, escaping the intimate space bubble with a shuttered breath, not knowing what she'd do if they fell back into the same position from before.

It was a natural response she hadn't even thought of...

What else was she to have done?

She felt her heart race when he got too close, almost popping when he took that daring step towards her. She had been anxious when he came close, but as she withdrew something else twinged at her jump-started heart.

- Something that felt as though she were being jabbed with each beat,

'Make up your mind!' she berated the thudding muscle. ' Well? ' She questioned herself. ' Do you want him closer or not?'

Sirens went off in her head, blaring loud and making her quickened heartbeat fasten more as he decided to take a step back, his hand's grasp loosening, fingers lifelessly leaving her.

" Sunshine? " He asked her in a softer tone, the nickname making her breath hitch.

It made her fuzzy...

"Why do you call me that?" she asked him suddenly, sounding breathless, feeling her stomach flop at the bold inquiry. She blurted out the question, desperate for an answer to sedate her.

"Why do you call me that?" she pressed on, this time being the one to get closer.

The corners of his mouth rose slightly, his icy eyes melting slightly as he gazed down at her, his hands reaching for hers, holding them fondly.

'If not now...then when?' He asked himself.

She could feel tingling, a ticklish feeling left afterward that just couldn't be ignored, and it would have been all she could focus on if her heart wasn't drumming loudly within her ribcage.

"Why else?" he questioned her, as though she already knew the answer as if it was something obvious to the world,

'Doesn't she know?' He asked himself.

"Because...You're my sunshine," he explained, "And You always light up my day," he went on, his smile broadening, a visible grin adorned as he watched her eyes sparkle at the confession.

If she could look at him like that every time he said that little endearment, he'd never call her anything else,

Just sunshine.

"- My sunshine," he repeated, with the same grin stretched out.

"You belong here," he told her with certainty, having no doubt in his mind as he pulled her close and embraced her chilled body.

With a low breath, she fell onto his body, melting onto his figure as though it was her own home.

'I need you here, with me... My sunshine.'

I lost track of my direction here... (( ಠωಥ ))

But I mean, it's not so bad. Oh well, moving on.