#‘bury me beneath the willow’

[yellobb]

Say what you want about country music, but they do music that makes me cry like a baby better than anybody else

[elliegoose]

currently trying to learn this rendition of Cumberland Gap. after an hour or so practicing i can play the first four measures at half speed, so i'd call that progress!! it's definitely a harder song than Bury Me Beneath the Willow, though

[locura-azul]

Oh, bury me beneath the willow, under the weeping willow tree.

So he may know where I am sleeping, and perhaps he'll weep for me.

[butch-chastity]

there are some american folk songs that are really just everywhere (what film directors use when they want to make u think about cowboys) and recognizing them out in the wild is always a little startling (they use the same three songs over and over and over again and you're the only one who notices)

[peachesofteal]

for all of us who can't bear to read anything but CoD fanfiction (due to the 141's fat tits) do you have any all-time favs?

Such an awful, sick affliction. I made one of these lists a while back but couldn't find it so you’re in luck because I have plenty of favorites and I’m happy to share them (in no particular order. I KNOW I'm forgetting at least ten fics I've read and loved but I have a goldfish brain today, forgive me):

And please, read the tags/warnings. Your consumption is your own responsibility.

Neon Medusa Too sweet not to share Ghost and Red Fox Alford plea The Willow Maid Exfiltration The Arrangement Civilian Asset See no evil Squeeze me I squeak MildLimerence Mine & Yours Saltwater Metanoia to you I can admit (that I'm too soft for all of it) white flag blood on my shirt, rose in my hand totally platonic Surviving you imprimatura Dog all that's said in the lowlight birdsongs or advice and symphonies for your children Happiness songs that sound like sea foam down to the marrow roommate gaz Chink in the Armour Man-sized Hummingbird don't leave me locked in your heart Listening In Situationship-verse The Scottish Cabin in the Woods

Additions to this list as of June 12

Spoils of War Where Your Feet Pass Neighborly and/or not The Rear Window jigsaws pictures in frames, kisses on cheeks sirius c Spoils Cabin Fever / part one lotus flower the lies we tell Who Dares Win babytrap anthology The Hard Way Of Sea Foam and Iron bury me beneath the basswood tree Wicked Harvest Tiger balm baby blue Keeper/Kept Something Sweet Stay Away appetite

[kedreeva]

The last photos of Stan Lee, the Cameo peacock.

I like to think he had a decent last day. We tube fed him early this morning so he would not feel hungry or thirsty despite that he could no longer find food or water. He spent the rest of the day loafing in the sunlight, surrounded by hens that liked him a great deal because he was always super gentle and sweet to his ladies. He always loved babies, and Aurora's 2023 kids were no exception, and I caught both of them cuddled up to Stan at one point as well. Even though he couldn't see them, I hope he knew he was not alone. I hope that they feel they got to say their goodbyes- I haven't heard anyone calling for him, so that's a good sign.

As the sun began to set, I came out to get him, and he was by himself for the first time, sleeping along the wall in the sun. He didn't fuss when I picked him up, and rode quietly in the car to the vet. He laid quietly in my lap in the waiting room, and I watched a rainbow crawl across his wing and back while we waited. As he fell asleep from the initial sedation, some of the vet staff that had seen him often the last 7 years for his many issues came to say goodbye quietly. They let me stay with him through the Final Sleep, as well, and he went just as quickly and quietly. Perhaps he thought it was time as well.

I am going to miss him like crazy. I never wanted a cameo bird, partly because I know they are prone to carrying health issues and blindness in particular, but he wobbled his way right into my heart once he was in my hands.

I set aside his final train of feathers, along with a good deal of his saddle and some of his neck feathers, as keepsakes. One primary from each wing, some of his actual tail feathers. I will make myself a feather vase from it when I am up to it.

Sark helped me to bury Stan's body beneath the weeping willow sapling we planted last summer. It's near the coops, rather than in the death orchard, as he never particularly liked sleeping near other birds at night, only by day.

It has not been an easy two days, but I know once I have some distance, his memory will certainly be a blessing for me, and for everyone whose lives he touched along the way. His train was always full of hearts from all the love.

[beelze0-0]

Oh, bury me beneath the willow

Under the weepin’ willow tree

So he will know where I am sleeping

And, perhaps, he’ll weep for me

CW: death

(ID:

image 1: left half of a drawing of Izzy Hands’ grave, overgrown with grass under the shade of a weeping willow tree, a beach and ocean in the background

image 2: right half of a drawing of Izzy Hands’ grave, overgrown with grass under the shade of a weeping willow tree, a beach and ocean in the background

image 3: close up of Izzy Hands’ cold deceased face, swallowed by the roots of the willow tree and ivy

end ID)

[flametrashiraarchive]

Thinking about Gyomei who returns from a long string of missions to find his s/o laying down, staring at nothing. Eyes empty, voice apathetic, like a cup with a hole at the bottom, drained of life.

Gyomei's big frame craddling his s/o, rocking back and forth in comfort, trying to breathe more life into his s/o's depressed form, trying to return the warmth stolen by their mind.

Gyomei ready to give up, when his s/o starts to respond to his touch finally...

... after all his cuddles are the best.

- Beer anon 🍻

Who has two thumbs and gets carried away writing about sad boys 👍😎👍

Thank you for this ask. I loved writing about Gyomei and I hope I did him well!

NSFW and unbearable cuteness beneath the cut.

Softer than Mochi- Gyomei x Reader

Gyomei's chin was tilted down as he listened to you. Ordinarily, your voice brought him familiar comfort, but lately he had noticed the sound of it, along with the scent of your skin, was eliciting a new sort of reaction.

It was both unbearably exciting and incredibly uncomfortable.

"Please continue." He shifted his weight as he sat cross-legged on the rocks. His cheeks were getting warm as you told him about your latest mission. "You pursued the demon through the forest?"

You continued speaking, seemingly unaware of his predicament. "Yes. So anyway, the demon almost got away, but I took it down and managed to save the woman it was trying to snatch away. It won't bother anyone again."

"Ah… good. You did well. I'm proud."

There was a slight shift in the air which told him you'd taken a step forward. His heart quickened. 

"Thank you," you said. "I couldn't have done it without your training."

Instinctively, Gyomei opened his arms to accept your embrace. You hugged him often, and he enjoyed it every time.

You were so soft and precious to him. Most people felt small to Gyomei– even Tengen Uzui who stood six and a half feet tall and had muscles on muscles felt like a willow branch sometimes.

The stone hashira wrapped you in his arms, breathing in your warm and lovely scent.

"My sweet friend," he whispered as you buried your face against his neck, making his stomach flutter. "Your capabilities come from your strength and determination, not from me. I taught you ways to use your tools, but you were the one who built and refined them. And you have already been given your next mission?"

"Yes." Your voice was filled with a conflicting mix of  weariness and determination. The lower ranked slayers such as yourself were always busy taking down weaker demons, while hashira were assigned to the less frequent but more difficult missions. "I have to leave here in an hour in fact. I have a train to catch."

An hour was too little time to spend together, but Gyomei would cherish every moment. "I smell matcha… what is that?"

"I brought you some mochi," you said, placing a paper packet in his large hands.

Gyomei smiled and carefully unwrapped the packet, touching his fingers to the squishy little cakes. They were round, perfectly smooth, and as soft as your cheeks, but each one had two little pointed bumps on top… they felt like ears.

The stone hashira's smile widened. "Are they cat-shaped?"

Your excited laughter was heartwarming music to him. "Yes!"

His chest filled with adoration. "They're almost too cute to eat. Thank you, my dearest friend." 

You sat beside him on the rocks, listening to the roaring waterfall and the babbling song of the river. Your hand rested in his, so small and delicate but somehow so warm and profound. 

"Please be safe on your mission," Gyomei said. "And inform me when you get back."

His heart leapt as you leaned against him, resting your head on his bicep. "I will. I'll come and find you before I do anything else. You be safe too, Gyo."

When you stood, his heart lamented. The air shifted again and he opened his arms to embrace you, but this time you pressed your lips softly to his cheek, your hands resting on his shoulders.

The tingle of your kiss lingered on his skin long after you left for your mission. Gyomei remained seated where you left him, smiling as he thought of you and ate the mochi you so sweetly made for him. The world, for a little while, was very beautiful. 

Gyomei had faced countless demons, he had suffered every brutality, but your gentle kiss hit him harder than anything he had ever known before. Your lips were so soft he could have wept.

***

Five days passed before he heard whispers of your return but you did not come to see him as promised. 

That was unlike you and it filled Gyomei with concern. He walked the familiar path to your home, trying to calm his mind. There could be a number of explanations; maybe you were asleep, maybe you had been summoned elsewhere… maybe you had only said you would come to see him first to humor him.

He reached your front door and raised his hand to knock, but found only empty space in front of his knuckles. He called out your name and heard only silence. His heart plummeted. 

Your door was open and you were not responding. He immediately suspected the worst. But there was no trace of a demon, no sickly scent of death or injury. 

"I'm coming in," he said, so as not to scare you.

Your house was silent, and the air had a strange sort of quality. In the past, your home had been a place of comfort for him, but now when he stepped across the threshold he felt a sorrowful weight in his heart.

"Are you here?" He tried to conceal the worry, but it came out anyway. "My friend, speak to me… please."

"Gyo…" 

At the sound of your voice his heart leapt. He turned toward the sound and took a step forward. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked. 

"No… I'm sorry I scared you."

You were on the floor. 

He crouched close to you, reaching out a hand toward you. "My friend, what has happened? I can hear the pain in your voice."

A heavy silence sat between you. Oh, his heart was aching and he couldn't fathom why. Your voice sounded so empty, so utterly broken. You were sitting on a futon in the center of the room; still and quiet and emanating sorrow. He couldn't hold back from reaching out further and placing his hand upon you. His fingers brushed your forearm and traveled down until he found your hand and held it in his. Somehow you felt smaller… hollow…

He didn't press the issue. You would tell him in your own time. He simply sat with you and held your hand. Gyomei was patient.

After a while you moved. He heard your clothes shuffle, felt the air waft against him as you moved your body.

His heart squeezed as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, and he couldn't refrain from holding you. He wrapped you up in his arms, easing you down to sit in his lap as he surrounded you in his embrace.

You fit so perfectly against him; so small and sacred. He held you with endless love and affection, cradling you in his arms as he rested his chin on top of your head. Something had bruised your sweet spirit, and he would hold you for eternity if he thought it could help you heal.

Finally, you spoke. "I failed, Gyomei. The demon's victims begged me to help and I failed. I couldn't save them."

It was a pain he knew too well, and a pain you would have to make space for in your heart because it would never truly go away.

"I'm sorry. That is never easy."

You pressed yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Please forgive me."

"Oh, little one." His chest ached. He was so bound to your shattering heart that the splinters of it pierced through his own. "How I wish I could take away your pain." 

You trembled as silent sobs wracked your body and Gyomei rocked with you. You mourned the lives you hardly knew and he held you through it as though he could shield you from the rest of the world until the grief was gone. 

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still weeping.

"You are forgiven, my dearest friend." He knew the apology wasn't truly meant for him, but he also knew you needed a seed of forgiveness to allow solace to take root and start to grow.

You cried your tears until you had nothing left. Finally, you grew still and the tension in your body waned.

"You have such a beautiful soul." He unwound one of his arms from around you and wiped away your tears with his thumb. He smiled, "And the softest cheeks."

You laughed quietly and it mended your hearts a little. "Thank you."

"Please do not be sad anymore. Take this pain and use it to help more people."

"Gyomei…" His name was music when it came from your lips. "You're so dear to me. This mission helped me realize I should make sure you know that."

"You are to me too. You're precious."

The gentle touch of your fingers on his jaw made his heart flutter. You traced the shape of his face as he had done to you so many times before.

His pulse raced. The air between you crackled with something unspoken. Your breaths were shallow and shivering as they blew across his lips. Heat prickled on his cheeks and along the column of his neck as he continued to hold you, dipping his chin to he nearer to you. He was inexperienced but not completely naive. Even if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening, he knew you were thinking about kissing him.

He wanted it too. 

“I adore you," he managed to whisper.

"I adore you too."

His heart pounded as you traced the outline of his lips with your fingertips. It was the most intimate sensation he had ever felt. Each breath he drew took a tremendous effort and barely reached the top of his lungs. This was unlike him; Gyomei was in tune with every muscle in his body, and yet your tender touch weakened him more than he thought possible.

He released you from his embrace and raised his hands to your face, finding his bearings before he leaned down and closed the distance, kissing you with infinite tenderness.

The moment his lips met yours, you responded, melting against him and kissing him back; so soft and warm it made his entire body ache. His heart was full to bursting as his thoughts tumbled like a landslide. Your lips were even softer than your cheeks, softer than mochi, warmer than sunlight. 

The kiss seemed to breathe life back into you, and almost at once there was a new passion and hunger which he had sometimes dreamed of experiencing. But never once did he actually believe he could share it with you. You stole his breath away.

When the kiss broke, you showered his face in smaller, more chaste, but no less lovely kisses. Gyomei felt himself smile as his hands trailed down your back.

"Tell me, cherished one," he said quietly, "just so I don't run away with myself. Is this simply to feel good and numb your pain, or is this truly how you feel?"

Thank the gods that the silence afterward was only momentary. His heart couldn't stand it.

"It's how I feel," you responded, caressing the sides of his face with both hands and giving him goosebumps. "Gyo… this is why I come to you after every mission to embrace you and hold your hands. This is why I make cat-shaped mochi for you. I thought you knew I love you."

His heart was about to burst from his chest and his smile could not be contained. "Ah… yes, now that I consider it, it seems obvious."

You laughed. "My sweet Gyo."

You kissed him again. Though it had only been moments since the last one, relief coursed through him as he drew from that sweet warmth and softness. 

"My most beloved, I am yours."

Your hands explored his shape, traversing the neckline of his shirt to the very top of his chest. While not vain, Gyomei was proud of his strength and the muscles he worked so hard to hone. Your quiet hum of approval sounded against his lips as your fingers touched his pectorals. It filled him with pride.

A breathless, tingling sensation coursed through his body as your touches grew bolder and your kisses increased in intensity. The sensation of your hands brushing his bare skin caused a sensation not unlike you were tugging a chord connected to his core.

"Am I moving too fast?" You asked, still resting your forehead against his as though it was as painful for you to be apart as it was for him. 

"Not at all. Continue, please." Heat pickled across his cheeks, far more intense than any sunbeam. 

"You're blushing," you whispered before taking his hand and leading it toward your face, brushing your cheeks with the back of his fingers. "I'm blushing too."

He smiled. "I feel it. You're so warm."

Your cheeks grew plump beneath his fingers as you smiled, and then your hand left his. He heard the soft rustle of fabric, the quickening of your breath, and then you took his hand and led it down to your bare chest.

"Oh…" he choked out.

Nothing in the world could compare to the smooth warmth of your body beneath his large, battle-hewn hands. You were silk to him, lotus petals, mochi, the gentle flow of a sun-warmed stream. His chest ached. Your beauty was overwhelming.

The way you bowed to his tender caresses pulled once more at that chord. When he brushed his thumb over the hardening bud of your nipple and elicited a soft sigh of pleasure from you, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Tingling excitement rolled through his lower belly as your hands went to the fastening of his trousers. Gods, he wanted this, he did… but as inexperienced as he was, there were certain facts he was very aware of. 

“We must be patient,” he said. “I need to ensure you are ready.”

“Believe me, Gyo, I’m ready.” You kissed him again with renewed passion, running your fingers through his hair and sending more little shocks of pleasure through him. 

Gyomei smiled as you pulled back from the kiss, placing his hands over yours to halt your progress. “You’re not ready enough.”

“What do… oh… OH.” You had no doubt noticed the bulge forming in his trousers. “I see. You’re–”

“Large.” He pulled in a breath. “I’m very large. And I don't want to hurt you." Slipping his hand over the curve of your waist, he pressed a kiss to the plush softness of your chest. "If you wish to continue then I ask that you permit me to prepare your body to…receive me."

"I want to continue." You kissed him again, your tongue entering his mouth and slowly teasing his; pulling a gravelly moan from his lips. When you withdrew, you stood and he heard the soft rustle of cloth once more as you removed the rest of your clothing. You took his hands and led them to your bare thighs. "Please touch me."

His pulse thundered as he skated his hands along the curves of your body, committing every soft hill and luxurious valley of your shape to memory. Every touch was an act of profound worship, and every sweet sound of pleasure which came from you was an answer to a prayer.

"Beloved, lie down for me," he said softly. "I want you to be comfortable."

You did as he asked, lying back on your futon.

Just knowing that you were before him, laid out and feeling as nervous and as excited as he was, made his heart flutter. He undressed fully before he let his hands stroke the lengths of your thighs, down to your center where the heat radiated from you in intoxicating waves.

"Please tell me if I'm doing well or not," he asked. His voice was quiet and shaking a little with trepidation. "I've never… well, I've received a little bit of instruction on how to do these things but never put them into practice. So please…"

"I will." You placed your hand on his and with gentle pressure, urged him to touch you. 

Your tender flesh was like nothing he had ever felt before. His breath caught in his throat as his fingers mapped out the shape. You were so warm and wet, and the scent of you was truly intoxicating. You made such lovely sounds of pleasure as he slid his fingers through your folds, coating them in your essence. He traced their shape upward, to where they converged over your delicate, swollen bud.

"There," you gasped as he circled his fingers around it. "That's…"

"Your clitoris," he said with a smile. "I know… I told you, I've had instruction."

At the time he had thought Uzui's lessons were wasted on him, but he had committed the information to memory nonetheless. Now, as your hips bucked and your thighs trembled from the gentlest touches, he had every intention of thanking Uzui from the bottom of his heart.

"Gyo-mei~" you gasped as he stroked your clit with his thumb and pushed a thick finger into you. Oh, gods, the heat, the silken flesh, the slick coating of your nectar, like sun-ripened fruit. He wanted so badly to sink into you and feel his body connected to yours. But he would be patient. He would ensure you were completely ready before he satiated his needs. 

A wave of heat washed over him as you bore down on his finger, eager and demanding even without words.

"Is it good?"

"So… good…"

"Do you want more, my beloved?"

"Yes…" your breaths came in short gasps. "More."

He pushed a second finger into you, pausing as you cried out, allowing your body to accommodate them. His fingers, like everything else about him, were large.

He waited until you began to thrust onto them again and took that as a sign that you were ready.

Gently, he began to move his fingers, pumping them into you slowly as his thumb continued to rub your clitoris. His heart quickened as he felt your inner muscles begin to contract and spasm. 

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice breathless and urgent.

"I won't."

You came apart seconds later, gasping and shuddering as those muscles pulsed around his fingers. You squeezed them so beautifully, and imagining that sensation on his cock was enough to make him lightheaded.

But he still had work to do. "Can you take more?"

You placed your hand on his thigh. "Yes."

A blissful cry emerged from you as he added a third finger, gently stretching you. 

"Gods, Gyomei~"

"Breathe, beloved. Breathe and relax. I will stop if you wish me too."

"Never."

He chuckled before spreading his fingers slightly, opening you up and readying you. "If I could only express the true depth of my feelings for you." He bowed his head, kissing your stomach with slow, lingering kisses as he continued to pump his fingers into you. 

You were so receptive to his touches, moaning softly as you placed your hand on his wrist, as if to hold it down between your thighs. It was a reassuring gesture that he was pleasing you. That's all he truly desired.

He felt your muscles quiver again and you cried out his name. His cock stood firm, aching with need as your pussy squeezed around his fingers.

"I think you are ready." He spoke softly, kneeling back a little. "If you still–"

"I do. Gyomei… I absolutely do."

You got up and sat astride his thighs as he knelt on the bottom of the futon. This was good. It was exactly what he wanted. He needed you to be in control now, setting the depth and intensity. 

Your lips brushed against his as you cupped his face. The bare skin of your torso was so soft and delicate against his large frame. He wound his arms around you and met your kiss, slow and passionate and filled with love. 

Shifting in his lap, you positioned yourself so the head of his cock was pressed against your entrance. He felt a brief stab of worry that he hadn't prepared you well enough, that he had been too hasty and would hurt you, but a moment later you took him with nothing more than a breathy moan. 

"Gyomei… Gods you feel incredible."

Oh there was nothing that could describe that feeling of sinking into you. A needy groan escaped him as he pressed his head to your shoulder and breathed in the scent of you, trying to ground himself. He was lost in the sensation.

"I love you," you whispered, kissing his lips so gently it seemed you felt he was fragile and precious. 

"I love you too, my everything."

He had never felt so connected to anyone. Mind, body, soul, he was yours. He groaned in pleasure as you undulated your hips, taking him deeper inch by inch, stopping to give you both time to adjust and bask in the sensation.

"Does it hurt, my love?" he asked, unable to shake the tinge of concern from his mind or his voice. 

"No. No, we fit together perfectly." You kissed his neck, sending a frisson of pleasure traveling down his body where it pooled in the bottom of his belly. 

People often spoke of the beauty of stars; pinpricks of light shimmering among velvet darkness, and he felt he understood that with you. He felt them. Shimmering sparks which danced across skin, overwhelming him in the best possible way.

Pressure built at his core as you rode him, your hands resting on his shoulders, your soft body moving against his. You were taking him well, better than he had ever dared to hope you could.

The slow rhythm of your movements, the constant pleasure, the intimacy… It was too much. He grit his teeth and choked out a cry.

"Beloved… I'm…"

"Let it happen, Gyo. You've more than satisfied me. Let go…"

You kept on moving to that slow, loving rhythm, building the exquisite pressure which ran through his core, growing and growing until he was barely clinging to his senses.

His fingers gripped your hips with more strength than he ever meant to use with you, holding you to him as his pleasure reached an almost unbearable peak. 

"Ohh, beloved… perfect… so~ ohhh…so perfect." 

He filled you entirely, lowering his head to press his cheek to yours as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and clung to you. 

"I have you," you whispered as you held him, stroking his back as he trembled in your arms.

He knew he could be like this with you for as long as he needed to be. As wave after wave of pleasure rocked through his body, he sank down into your arms, pressing you back until you were lying on the futon and he reclined on his hip beside you, nestling his head against your chest.

Your heart thudded against his ear, beating to a rhythm you had set together. 

His lips curved as you stroked your fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head and sighing in contentment.

And the world was forever beautiful. 

In that moment, and in every moment he shared with you, the stone hashira's heart was softer than mochi.

[levispersonalslave]

Little Spoon!Grumpy!Levi Ackerman, Big Spoon!Sunshine!Reader, Domestic Fluff, Sfw, Short drabble for @littlerequiem

He grumbled as he felt your arm shifting from beneath him. He stirred and, without opening his eyes, he grabbed your hand tightly, “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

You planted a soft kiss on the top of his head, squeezing his hand gently, “I was gonna go make us breakfast, Lee...”

He only grunted in response, turning around to face you. He gave you a half-hearted glare as he did so, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your chest. Your fingers combed through the dark strands of his hair, a pleasant chuckle escaping your lips at how sweet he looked.

“Levi, we already overslept. At least let me take a quick shower?” You smiled softly, stroking his hair.

He groaned against your skin, only tugging you closer to him. His legs were tangled with yours beneath the sheets; you were practically glued to him. And, of course, he refused to allow you the privilege of getting out of bed. As per usual.

And he wasn't going to let you do so any time soon. As per usual. Well, who were you to complain? No one else had the luxury of seeing him so clingy, only you did. You were special to him, both of you knew that. You hummed softly to yourself, burying your nose in his lavender-scented hair. The sun had already risen over the horizon, seeping in through the curtains and casting a warm golden glow upon the bedroom. It was a serene morning, you could hear the tweet and chirrup of the birds beyond the window, along with the faint rumble of car engines in the bustling streets. The weeping willow that seemed to frame your bedroom window brushed against the glass every time the breeze blew.

A quiet, serene morning indeed. Perhaps you could sleep in a tad longer, it wasn't every day your lover was so clingy, after all. Just a little longer...

//328 words, 1778 characters //

{Taglist: @the-traveling-poet, @pinkberryfox }

[paradoxlemonade]

Nature of Curiousity

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Characters: Joe & Cleo

words: 1024

Warnings: very mild body horror (Cleo is embroidering on Joe, but he's made of fabric and does not feel pain)

Ao3: Here!

Summary: Joe Hills the puppet wants to make friends with humans. The humans do not want to be made friends with. Cleo puts him back together afterwards. [Abecedarian Prose Poem]

@mcyt-valentines gift for @therizino-ao3! Hope you enjoy :]

...

A sunrise the color of a bitter lemon tea beckons in the fresh morning scent of grass and dreams, soft around the edges and losing their remaining sharpness as sleep turns to wakefulness. Beneath an old willow tree, a corpse as fresh as the day it died rests in the dewy grass and embroiders artful designs into her best friend’s shoulder.

Cleo huffs at him, “You know, it would’ve been nice if you had waited until at least breakfast to go galavanting around and get yourself shot by a humanfolk.”

Dauntlessly undeterred as per usual, Joe merely smiles serenely and says, “But I must watch them, as the rain must fall and snow must melt; it is in my nature, sewn into my skin.”

Even-spaced threads holding his innards on the right side of the felt are the only thing decorating his skin, by Cleo’s own observation.

“Fine as that may be, your ‘nature’ does not make you invincible to arrows.” Generally speaking, being made of cloth made Joe invincible to very little, save for perhaps pain and common sense. He would grow tired of his game eventually, and then he would stop attempting to consort with the humanfolk (at least, Cleo hoped he would tire of it).

“If I am endlessly repairable no matter my condition, is that not a form of invincibility?”

 “Joe, you can only be repaired if I have the pieces to put you back together; if the humanfolk decide it would be more fun to capture you instead of running you off, you would be in more pieces than magic thread could possibly hold together.”

“Killjoys—that being people who deny my innermost whimsy, that being you—” he gestured at her with the arm not being worked on, “should not judge how one chooses to express themself, especially when they are themselves of humanfolk blood.”

Less ever said about one Joe Hills’ innermost whimsy, the more sane one would be, as neither consistency nor thoughts of sound minds are facets of his being.

Minutes flow around them like a gentle brook as Cleo continues her stitchwork and pointedly does not give his comments the dignity of a direct response, at least until she thinks of one worth saying.

“No humanfolk,” she began slowly, “Would consider me possible by their understanding of the world, let alone ‘of their blood’; I have not been theirs for a very long time.” One day was all it took to lose everything that she’d built over the course of her entire life, as one day was all it took for the sickness that ravaged her village like a pack of wolves descending on a flock of sheep to bury her in an early grave that she didn’t stay put in.

“Perhaps that much is fair and you have no love left for them, but I have never been theirs; the humanfolk ways are unlike our own, and I find myself pulled in again and again despite all attempts to the contrary.”

Quickly fleeting curiosity would be too much to ask, she supposed, as temporary passion was also as antithetical to Joe’s nature as he claimed sedation to be.

 “Really, you can’t be all too mad at me for this, because if you were as upset as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t have offered to sew me back up, and you certainly wouldn’t have added these nice yellow flowers without me needing to ask.”

She glances down to her hands as if seeing them for the first time that morning, the hands that gently wove the thread in and out of his fabric skin with a practiced ease and the comfort of a close friend. This conversation—despite its distances—has still grown much too close to an uncomfortable shard of glass nestled deep into her chest, digging and poking into the soft tissue beneath her heart that she could not excise no matter how strong her will. 

“Unfortunately, we still live in a world where I need to sew you back up for reasons other than your own foolishness, and it’s not like I could simply let someone I’ve worked on walk around looking like I did the job carelessly.” 

Vexed enough by her candid response, Joe allows the conversation to wander along to more familiar territory by changing the topic with all the subtlety he could muster—that is, not a whole lot.

 “What type of flowers are these meant to be, anyway?” Joe asks, stretching to see Cleo’s handiwork.

“Xyris flowers, of some kind; they’re all over around here and you seem to like them well enough that I didn’t think you would mind if I put some on your arm.”

Yellow petals of soft thread cascade from the top of his shoulder down midway to his elbow, just shy of of meeting up with the dusky green vines—those were almost ready to come out, but the new stitches would have to stay for a few weeks so the fabric could knit itself back together. Zero weeks have gone in recent memory that did not end with one of Cleo’s friends needing stitches (usually Joe, and usually for silly and-or humanfolk reasons), but she never stopped pulling out her needle and thread before they could even apologize for bothering her.

And as Joe thanks her for the help and the flowers, she leads him back to her house for an early breakfast to cap off an odd morning, all the while dreaming of a world where the humanfolk and the otherfolk didn’t have to live on opposite sides of the veil, and Joe could make strangers into friends.

 Better worlds and broken hearts are playing cards of the same set, but a card for resilience is also shuffled into that same deck. Crisp toast and peppery fried eggs aren’t quite miracle workers, but they’re enough to bring Cleo back up to normal when combined with good company. Dreams weren’t going to come true on their own, but maybe Joe was onto something with his adventures.

 Everything considered, it took him an hour longer than last time to get run off.

[lucidlivi]

Chosen For Pleasure (X)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @ladysparkles78 @suckitands33 @little-x-wolf @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @lessons-of-red @jamerlynn @deans-baby-momma @willow-sages @ritz-hell-hotel @perpetualabsurdity @mhessellund @itzabbyxx @chriszgirl92 @abbybarnesstuff @larrem88 @commonsenseishard @impalaspixie @notsogoofyjelly @hzllxhoundxx@taylortots-world @kazsrm67 @k-slla @heavenlyackles @spnfamily-j2 @buckybarnes-1917 @foxyjwls007 @readingsins (if you would like to be added to my list, please send me a ask or a message!)

**Attempted sexual assault at the end of chapter, please don't read if it is triggering for you! Also I am available if anyone EVER needs to talk! I love you all!**

“you know what fuck slow”

In less than a second I attached my lips to Jensen’s neck kissing and sucking gently. He wasted no time moving his hands under my shirt, his hands exploring to my silk bra covered breasts.

“are you sure this is what you want?” Jensen asked with a groan.

I removed my lips from his neck, looking in his eyes.

“you don’t?”

“no, god no of course I want this, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” He said sincerely.

I gave him a smile before bringing my shirt over my head.

“do you want to keep talking, or do you want to take the rest of my clothes off?" I whispered seductively.

"I want to take the rest of your clothes off." Jensen groaned, reaching me with one quick stride.

His hands flew up to my bra, pulling it away from my body. I moaned as his lips attached to my neck, kissing and licking down to my now exposed breasts. I threw my head back as his lips wrapped around my nipple lightly nipping it.

I grabbed his shirt to tug it over his head, he detached from my nipple and pulled it the rest of the way off. I let my hands explore his toned chest as his hand fumbled with the hem of my pants.

"Jensen I want you."

He picked me up, stumbling towards my bedroom. He laid me down on the bed gently. In a swift motion, he had my pants down around my ankles.

"Fuck." He groaned taking in the sight of my red lace thong.

He pulled it to the side, attacking my core with his lips. I gasped at the sudden sensation. I brought my hands up, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to bring him closer. I could hear the groans slip out of his mouth as I tugged on his hair.

"I want to please you." I moaned.

"believe me, you already are." Jensen groaned.

He stood up, stripping out of his khakis. He gazed at me lustfully.

"you're so fucking beautiful." He said licking his lips.

He threw his boxers down around his ankles stepping out of them quickly. I could feel my breath quicken as he ran a hand over his length. In one quick movement, he was buried deep inside me. I groaned at the sensation forgetting how big he was.

"I forgot how good you feel." Jensen groaned as he pulled out before burying himself back inside.

"Jensen it feels so good." I moaned.

I brought my hips up to meet his thrusts. He was taking his time, savoring the feeling. It was the most sensual it's ever been between us. I moaned getting needy. I needed more friction. Jensen took that as a sign and sped up his thrusts, each one harder than the last.

"not going to last much longer sweetheart." He groaned.

I moaned in response. I was about to come undone. Jensen grabbed on to my waist, his fingers digging in to my hip bones.

"J." I moaned as I came undone, a withering mess beneath him.

I clenched around him, causing his release as well. He rode out his high before collapsing beside me. I took a moment to catch my breath before laying my head on his chest. His arm snaked around me pulling me closer.

"I missed that." I said with a slight laugh.

"me too." He smiled.

I looked up at his handsome face. He really was flawless. His jaw was the perfect shape, sharp, but not too defined. His eyes glowed a certain way. Freckles peppered over his nose, giving him a youthful look. His eyes met mine as we silently stared at each other. I could see his eyes focusing on my lips. It was like he wanted to kiss me but was fighting an internal battle.

"it's okay." I whispered bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

He gave me a look that said he knew exactly what I was talking about.

"I'm trying." He said with a shaky breath.

"I know you are, and it's okay, you do it when you're ready." I smiled rubbing a thumb over his defined cheek bone.

It was quiet, as we lay wrapped around each other. I've never felt more content than in this moment. I really was falling in love with this man, and it scared me how fast it happened.

"why do you think you waited to have sex?" Jensen asked running his hand up and down my side.

"I don't know, it just never felt right, I guess I was looking for something exceptional.."

I bit my lip raising my head to gaze in his eyes again.

"and then I met you." I whispered.

Jensen smirked before flipping me over so he was hovering over me.

"do you know how hot it is that I'm the only guy that's ever been inside you?" He murmured, his fingers dancing over my thighs.

I rolled my eyes with a scoff.

"I'm trying to be sweet right now and you're distracting me with your fuckery."

"my fuckery?"

"yeah your fuckery." I laughed.

"hmm so I guess you don't want any of my fuckery." He whispered, running a finger over my folds.

I gasped, throwing my head back against the pillow. He teased my entrance with his fingers.

"definitely don't want any of your fuckery." I tried to choke out but the underlying moan in my voice gave me away.

He smirked as he entered two fingers, pumping them in and out at an even pace. I bit back a moan. He inserted another finger, quickening his pace. It was a euphoric feeling.

I was a mess of moans as he worked me with his fingers. He worked them faster and faster until I could no longer take the sensation.

"that's it angel let go." Jensen groaned huskily, triggering my release.

He removed his fingers, bringing them up to his lips to taste me.

I don't think I'll ever get this sight out of my head. It was the sexiest thing ever.

He laughed as he fell back down beside me. He pulled me to his chest again, and we laid there in silence just enjoying being in each others presence. It was awhile before Jensen spoke up.

"did you turn the stove off?" He asked inhaling.

I inhaled too, smelling the faint smell of smoke. I quickly jumped up throwing on my panties and a t-shirt before running out to see our steak completely burned.

"so I'm thinking take out." He joked standing in the doorway now in his boxers and a t-shirt.

"take out would be good." I laugh tossing the burnt steak in the trash.

It was a calm rest of the night. We ordered chinese food, and split a bottle of wine. It was relaxing to see him unwind. It was late now, Stella texted to say she was spending the night at Matt's and she'd see me before work tomorrow. We were chatting while working on the remainder of the wine.

"so I have something better for you to do this weekend." Jensen spoke up before sipping on his glass.

"oh yeah what's that?" I asked sipping my own.

"go to a ball, with me."

"a ball?"

"yeah, it uh benefits Jared's charity, I really want you to come with me."

"I would love to go to a ball with you, though I don't think I even have anything worthy to wear to a ball." I laughed at how fancy this sounded.

"well lucky for you, your boyfriend is a billionaire." He smirked.

I felt my heart rate increase, hearing him call himself my boyfriend was a feeling indescribable.

"and.." I joked knowing what he meant.

"and, tomorrow after work, we'll go get you something worthy of wearing to a ball." He said placing a kiss on my cheek.

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to protest because I knew I would lose.

"well I can get it myself considering I now have 40,000." I said giving him a look.

He held up his hands in surrender giving me a laugh.

"how in the hell did you get my bank account details?" I questioned.

"I knew you would never accept my check, so I had my guys look in to it."

"your guys?" I asked cocking an eyebrow.

"well mainly Cole."

"you really better give Cole a break, or a raise." I joked.

Jensen laughed for a moment too, before the silence fell between us.

"I uh should go, it's late." He said looking at the clock.

I bit my lip shaking my head slowly. I didn't want him to go.

"or you could stay." I whispered, mustering up the courage.

Jensen smiled, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"I thought you'd never ask."

He picked me up bridal style, walking me to my bedroom. He set me on the bed, climbing in next to me. I instinctively cuddled in to his chest as his arms enveloped me. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, the sound of Jensen's soft snores filling my ears.

It was hours later that I awoke with a startle, hearing something. My vision was blurry as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, but for a second, it looked like a woman was standing at the foot of my bed, staring at me and Jensen. I blinked again, sitting up, but no one was there.

I sighed glancing at Jensen's sleeping form. He always looks the most at peace when he's sleeping. I took a deep breath cuddling back in to his chest. I closed my eyes hoping for uninterrupted blissful sleep, next to the man I was crazy about.

****************************************************

I awoke to my alarm tone, blaring in my ears. I let out a groan, reaching a hand out to turn it off. I tried to roll over but Jensen had me trapped in his arms. I couldn't fight the smile as I shook him slowly. He fluttered his eyes open, giving me a peck on the cheek.

"now this is something I could get used to." I said smiling.

"me too." He said.

"me three."

I looked in the doorway seeing Stella standing there with her hands on her hips.

"but next time, try not to burn down our kitchen." she said with a scowl.

I laughed at her, as she left to get ready for work.

"ugh, I don't want to get up, I just want to lay in your arms." I said placing an arm over my eyes to block out the sunlight.

I heard Jensen chuckle before he removed my arm from my face.

"I would love nothing more than that, but believe me, they wouldn't survive in the office without me, also you have to tell your boss you aren't going to New York this weekend."

Fuck.

I completely forgot about that. Gray was going to be pissed, but in my defense, I didn't know about it in advance.

"yeah I do." I sighed sitting up.

"but I'll be around after to pick you up." He smiled sitting up also.

I gave him a confused look.

"to go dress shopping." He laughed.

"right, for the ball." I said in a posh fancy accent.

"alright, I should get going." He said standing up, pulling his pants on.

He leaned over placing a kiss on my cheek.

"see you later."

"see you later." I whispered.

I watched him walk away, a beaming smile on my face. Stella passed him with a wave before she appeared in the doorway of my bedroom.

"so are we going to talk about all this."

"mhmm probably not." I joked wrapping the blanket around me before sauntering into the bathroom.

I could hear her protest as I shut the door turning on the shower. I quickly stripped, stepping in to the warm stream of water. I let my thoughts run wild as I washed my hair and body.

I had no idea what to say to Gray. I don't think it'll matter what I say. He's going to be pissed either way. I just hope he didn't fire me over this. It was all a big misunderstanding. I let the water wash over my naked body rinsing the soap away before stepping out to dry off. I moved at a sluggish pace, getting more anxious by the minute.

****************************************************

At this point, I didn't care anymore if my coworkers stared or gossiped about me, it just meant they were jealous. I was more focused on the conversation I would have to have with Gray.

"relax, everything will be fine." Stella assured.

I explained the situation to her in the car, she agreed that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to go with him to New York.

"something about him just seems off."

Stella didn't know how right she was.

I didn't see him when we walked in, he was already holed up in his office working on a project. I sat down chewing on my lip while starting up my laptop. I spent the morning waiting for Gray to come out but he hasn't. I guess it was one of those days where we wouldn't see a lot of him, which meant I was going to have to go to him. I was trying to work up the nerve, but I ended up psyching myself out every time. It got to closing time, and I still haven't worked up the courage, however I knew I needed to do it today or else I never would. I was so lost in thought I didn't see that everyone was packing up for the day.

"hello earth to (y/n)." Stella said waving a hand in front of my face.

"sorry Stell." I said turning my attention towards her.

"I asked if you needed anything before I left." She said giving me a smile.

"uh yeah if you could slam my head off the desk so I wouldn't have to talk to Gray that'd be great." I joked.

"you're overthinking this, just go talk to him and then go pick out a pretty dress with your boyfriend." She said giving me a hug before gathering her stuff and heading towards the door.

She was right, I just needed to suck it up and do it. I sighed heavily before walking to his office. I lightly rapped my knuckles on the door, grabbing his attention. He smiled waving me in. I took a shaky breath as I entered, standing awkwardly in his doorway.

"I've been meaning to come talk to you, I just got so busy, did you find a room yet for New York?" He asked.

"about that, I uh didn't know I was supposed to attend and I kind of already made plans that I can't get out of." I whispered with a shaky voice.

It wasn't a total lie.

I could see his eyebrows furrow in anger.

"have a seat." He said gesturing to his plush chairs.

I slowly sat, gazing up to meet his eyes. He came around his desk to stand in front of me.

"I'm concerned about you, do you want this job?"

"of course I want my job, I love my job." I defended.

"anyone else would be jumping at this opportunity, so why aren't you?"

"I'm sorry Gray it was just a misunderstanding."

"a misunderstanding really? or was it that boyfriend of yours? I think he's distracting you from your work." Gray growled.

"no that's not it at all."

"why don't I believe you?" Gray asked getting closer.

He placed a hand on my knee making me tense up.

"you know if you're going to fuck your way to the top, you should at least do it with someone who can actually get you somewhere in this business." Gray whispered running his hand up to my thigh.

I quickly stood up causing his hand to fall.

"what are you doing?" I said disgusted.

"showing you what you're missing."

I felt my heart beat skip as I headed for the door. Gray was faster though. He grabbed the handle holding it shut so I couldn't get out. Fear ran through me, tears stinging my eyes. He turned me around, pinning me against the door with his body.

"why are you doing this?" I cried.

"he's not right for you, don't you see that I could give you everything?" Gray said.

He roughly grabbed my chin, kissing my lips. I shoved him off as best as I could.

"stop." I growled, as his lips moved to my neck.

I wiggled underneath his grip, as the tears rolled down my cheeks.

"I bet I can make you scream in ways he never could." Gray whispered, his fingers traveling up under my skirt.

"NO." I yelled mustering all my strength to shove him off.

I quickly took my knee ramming it into his balls. He doubled over in pain with a growl. I quickly opened the door, fleeing as fast as I could.

"you're going to regret this." Gray screamed after me.

I ran out the door, tears clouding my vision. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Jensen standing with Cole. His face immediately fell as he saw my teary eyes. I ran in to his arms as the tears flowed freely.

"what happened?" Jensen asked holding me upright to keep from collapsing.

"Gray he... he tried to.... touch me." I managed to get out between sobs.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Jensen growled.

"no, please don't leave me." I sobbed grasping on to his shirt.

Jensen held me tighter, running a hand through my hair.

"I'm here baby." He said kissing my hair.

"I'm here."

Author Note:

I'm happy to be back! I'm sorry if this chapter was triggering in any way to anyone. If you need to talk I'm always available. I was almost sexually assaulted at a party when I was 15 (I am healed now, though it took a couple years of therapy). It's a scary world we live in ladies. Stay Safe. I love you all!

Part (XI)

[elliegoose]

oh bury me beneath the willow

[dira333]

Heartbreak Trees - Kakashi x Reader

warnings: cursing, people die, people only wear underwear at some point + hinting at my Might Guy fic at some point

requested by @revasserium

Right behind his house, always visible from the corner of his eyes wherever he’s looking, are the heartbreak trees.

At some point in the history of the Hatake Clan they must have had a different meaning, those five proud willows overlooking the the estate.

But he’s the last living Hatake and most of his blood is buried beneath them.

His father used to tell him about it. How his grand-grand-grand-father’s first wife used to love sitting in their shadow, how he saw it only fit that she’d be able to spend all of her days beneath them.

His own mother is buried there, because death through childbirth does not make you a hero and everyone knows that only heroes are buried around the memorial stone.

He made sure to bury his father right next to her.

-

“What’cha doing?” You’re hanging upside down from a branch, trusting only your toes to support your weight. Your grin is upside down but he’d still recognise it everywhere.

“Reading.” He flips a page he’s not bothered to look at, pretending to be focused on something else while he stays aware of your every movement.

“Mhm.” You flip yourself off and land with the ease of a practiced Shinobi. “You wanna take that to Ichiraku’s?”

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Mhm.” You humm again. “No one said you have to eat. Maybe I just like the sight of you.”

He doesn’t blush but his hand freezes, halfway between flipping to another page.

Your grin tells him that you did not miss it, like you never seem to miss anything he does.

-

“Well, that sucks.” You say to no one at particular and stare at the puddle of blood forming under your leg.

“How’d that happen?” He asks, already pulling bandages from his bag. “You’re normally the one with the least amount of injuries.”

“Oh, I got distracted.” You say and smile up at him as he cradles your leg in his hands, applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.

“You’re a former Anbu. What could have distracted you?”

“Your hair looked like spiderwebs in the sunshine.” He freezes before your words have fully left your lips and he can feel the heat of your eyes on his hair, appreciating not for the first time that you might be pushy with your words, but your actions speak of your patience. You will not touch him unless he allows it.

“You’re impossible.”

“Mhm. You’re impossible attractive.”

-

“You know, you do have enough money to buy yourself a better bed.” 

He flinches so hard he throws himself out of said bed, glaring up at you from the floor.

“What are you doing in my house?” 

You blink, trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly.

“Darling, I was the one who got you home last night. Remember? You were so drunk you tried to take Might Guy’s head with you and called it your favorite bowling ball.”

He rubs his eyes and pinches his nose.

“And you stayed?”

There’s a somber tone in your voice, one he can’t remember having heard before.

“You asked me to stay. I couldn’t say no.”

He wonders, shame flooding his veins, how he asked.

Did he beg, like he once did with Might Guy? Did he cry, like he’d done multiple times with Pakkun as his only witness?

“I think you should stop trying to drink Might Guy’s girlfriend under the table. It will never happen.”

“I was challenged by Anko.”

You harrumph. “Even worse. But you know, getting back to the topic at hand, you definitely need a new mattres. Do you want me to help you shop for it?”

-

“Well fuck that, who are you?” He hears your voice in the kitchen. 

He knows that you’re more than capable defending yourself, he recognizes that your voice sound more intrigued than fearful, but his mind is still drunk on sleep and insecurity, flinging him out of bed like a jack in the box.

Naruto’s in the kitchen. 

Naruto, in all his freshly-made-Genin arrogance and his tendency to wreak havoc where peace had been before, is standing in his kitchen, facing you, in your underwear, coffee in one hand, breakfast sandwich in the other, your hair a mess that spelt late nights under his covers.

“Who are you?” Naruto asks back, brows furrowed in a way that would have been adorable in almost any other circumstance.

“A ghost.” You clip back and put the sandwich down only to turn to Kakashi with raised eyebrows.

“You’re not wearing pants.”

Right. At least he’d put on his mask.

-

Naruto, incapable of keeping a secret, turns out to be highly susceptible to bribery.

“You’re costing me a lot, pretty boy.” You tell him later that day when he returns from training the gremlins only to find you perched on his bed like you’re a dragon and this is your stash of gold.

“No one would have believed him.” He argues with what he’s been telling himself the whole day.

“Mhm. But you would have cared about it.” 

It’s not the first time you’ve been able to look right through him, as if his eyes are windows to you when they are locked doors to everyone else.

“Come on.” You pat the spot next to you as if this is your bed and not his, your home and not his. “I gotta tell you about my day. You won’t believe what happened.”

He slips into his spot like he’s done hundreds of times before and wonders if this is really still his home, and his alone, and not maybe yours, as in the both of you.

You knock your head against his when you realize he’s zoning out and he grunts as if he’s annoyed.

Both of you ignore the way he takes your hands in his.

-

“I bet he has a scar.” Kotetsu nods to himself as he speaks, almost throwing his glass off the table as he tries to reach for it.

“Nah.” Izumo is just as drunk as he is, but he’s got better controlf of his extremities, Sake still sloshing out of his cup as he drinks. “I’m telling you, he’s got a mole.”

Genma’s a heavy weight on your shoulder, not yet as drunk as your friends, but grinning like the fool he is. “Well, you know, don’t you?”

He asks and even in your inebriated state you can tell that that body at the end of the bar is stiffening at his words. 

“Why would I know?” You say. “‘sides, it’s not any of our businesses.” You stumble over the last word a little, with it’s too many s.

“Yeah, but you’re in love with him.” Genma’s cooing now, trying to sound like a lovesick fool but the endresult sounds more like Might Guy’s drunken singing. He tries to poke your cheek and you grab his hand and twist it until it’s flat on the table and he’s cursing.

“I’m going home.” You say. “Next you’re going to talk about Anko’s booty and I don’t need to be around for that.”

“But it’s so nice.” Genma whines, cradling his arm and you roll your eyes at him.

“Tell her that yourself.” You stumble away from your table, wondering yet again how the Sake only ever kicks in when you need to walk but never when you’re sitting comfortably, debating another bottle.

The man from the bar exits behind you. You eye him suspiciously, the purple streaks under his eyes not distracting enough for you.

“Since when are you getting jealous of Genma?” You ask and he snorts, offering you his arm to hold on to as you make your way through town.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Good.” You pat his arm. “No reason to be jealous of. You know he’s into Anko.”

“And you’re in love with me.” He copies Genma’s singing and you kick the back of his knee, cackling when he looses his balance, barely catching himself before he topples over with you in tow.

-

“We can make it official.” He tells you once he’s upright again, your cackling turned into a content giggle.

“Hmm?” You ask, the topic already wiped from your brain.

“Our relationship. We could make it official.”

You smile and it’s soft and understanding, not the teasing one he’s grown to love or the wide one he’s learned to trust.

“Darling,” you say, “You don’t have to force yourself to anything. I don’t mind walking the streets with you in disguise as long as you’re honest with me.”

He falls quiet, lets you drag him the rest of the way, singing a song under your breath as you sway.

But he leads you away from the house, into the darkness surrounding it, up to the heartbreak trees.

You fall quiet beside him, always able to recognize what he needs.

He touches the bark of the first willow, his heart beating in his throat. 

“This is me.” He says. He doesn’t mean the tree and yet he does.

“Yeah.” You say, looking down at the gravestones wedged between the roots. “You are. A living being growing strong despite the devastation beneath your feet.”

He only realizes that he’s started shivering when you take his hands in yours, fold your fingers around his. 

“I’ve always loved the thought of this burial ground. To love someone so much you want them close in all your lifes.”

He chokes and his heart slips from his throat and into his chest, beating twice as strong now that it’s back at its right place, a warm and foreign presence.

You lift one hand from his and reach up to brush his hair from his face.

“You okay?” You ask and he nods.

He’s okay. He’s okay when he’s with you.

-

All he wants to do is sleep.

All you want to do is stay up.

He’s buried himself in blankets, has curled himself around you, but you’re still sitting in bed, flipping through one of his books. Your eyes never stay long enough on a page to read the words and he wonders if he’s finally reached your breaking point.

This might be the moment where you realize. 

Kakashi Hatake is a mess no one can fix. A pot so broken you cannot Kintsugi your way out of this. 

He should speak up, give you the courtesy of addressing it, but he cannot bring himself to break his own heart.

So he watches, drained and tired, wanting nothing more than to sleep but unwilling to miss any second he has left with you.

Eventually you reach the last page and stare down at it, your hands shaking a little as if you’re holding back tears.

Wordlessly you put the book away and reach around you to pry his arms of you.

He lets it happen, mouth pulled into a thin line as he pretends to be asleep.

But you don’t move away from him. You pull him into your lap instead, fold his body until his head is pressed into your stomach and his hands are wrapped around your legs instead. 

Your hands move into his hair, braiding sections and tugging on strands that are too short to be braided.

“I thought I did not have to talk about it.” You tell him, your voice hoarse. “But I can’t live, laugh, love my way out of this.”

He wonders if he should fake snore to get out of this conversation. You pinch his side as if you heard his thoughts.

“When I was sixteen, I drowned on a mission.” His body stiffens as his mind supplies the pictures. He doesn’t want to think of you that way. He cannot picture you that way.

“We had a medic nin with us who knew her shit, so I got back and I pretended everything was fine but, like… I was so scared.” You whisper the last words, your hands stopping in his hair. 

“Got a mission right after that, two days recovery max. Getting back into action kept me going after that, you probably know how it is.”

He doesn’t answer but you don’t need him to. Instead you fold into yourself until he can feel your lips press against his temple.

“So many people died today, Kakashi. You died today. I need to talk about it.”

“What do you want to talk about?” He wants to sound light hearted but fails miserably.

“I want to tell you that you have to die after me.” You take a half breath. “And that you have to bury me with your family because if you think death can get you out of this relationship, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

He blinks up at you and you crack that smile he would know everywhere, even if it’s upside down.

“But I wouldn’t do that to you.” You brush your hand over his eyebrows and he kisses the skin of your hands with his eyelashes, can feel your caress on his cheeks and your fingertips on his lips.

“We die together.” He voices your thoughts and you grimace.

“I know we can’t plan that shit.”

“We can. If anyone can, it’s us.” He catches your hand this time, pulling his mask down with the other.

You blink down at him and cock your head.

“No mole.” You tell him and he shakes his head with a grin, pulling the fabric back up..

“No mole.”

“Mhm.” You tug at his mask with your free hand. “Let me check again. Just to be sure.”

-

One day he might be able to tell you of the dream he had when he was dead.

Tell you what he told his father about you. 

One day he might be able to tell you about the heartbreak trees.

They weren’t always named that way.

Once upon a time, they were simply called… home.

[draqo-pctter]

so kiss me // a dramione drabble

words: 817 | tags: eighth year, astronomy tower, love confessions

Hermione shouldn’t have let Draco’s apparent change of heart after Christmas break get under her skin. But, months of tentative friendship and fingers brushing in the Potions classroom had buried themselves beneath her palms and her neck, pushed deeper by the silence and downcast eyes that met her when classes resumed. Draco entered the classroom as the bell rang, and was out of his seat halfway to the door by the time it rang again.

In Muggle Studies, he kept his back angled to her and refused to acknowledge when she answered a question. Arithmancy and Charms passed in much the same fashion. Hermione hoped that, as winter gave way to spring, his sudden change of heart would thaw with the ice that clung to the Whomping Willow. When the songbirds returned and warmth still remained absent from his frigid gray eyes, she knew she had to say something.

Harry had left her the Marauder's Map – an apology for not returning to Hogwarts for Eighth Year. For six months, it had stayed tucked inside her beaded bag, unused and getting bent between an ever changing load of books, quills and parchment. Her finger trailed down hallways and floors as she searched desperately for one name.

There he was: Draco Malfoy, pacing in circles around the Astronomy Tower. Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione grabbed her wand and pulled a light jacket over her pajamas. Sneaking out past curfew brought a thrill of excitement she’d missed, tempered only by the anxious energy bubbling up in her chest. The halls were mercifully quiet, and her footsteps didn’t echo off the stone walls as she made her way up to the tower.

His back was to her when Hermione reached the top of the stairs. Tension clung to his shoulders, pulling the white button-up he still wore tight against his skin. Shaggy blond hair blew in the evening breeze, briefly distracting her from the task at hand. And when Draco finally turned mid-step, the oxygen in the air vanished.

Moments passed as the pair studied each other, Hermione at a loss for words and Draco looking like he’d rather jump than be alone with her. She took one step forward, and he thankfully didn’t make a move toward the railing.

“What did I do?” Hermione asked before she lost her nerve. Draco’s eyes were painfully blank as he regained his composure.

“I don’t know–”

“Don’t lie to me, Draco.” Another step forward, fueled by the taste of his name on her tongue. “What did I do?”

A heartbeat, then –

“Nothing.”

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she crossed her arms over her chest. He was beautiful in the moonlight, almost ethereal. If she didn’t know him, she might think he was an angel whose wings had been left behind in Heaven.

“Then why–”

“Granger, please.” Draco ran an uneasy hand through his hair. “Go back to your dorm, and–”

“Not until you tell me why.” Hermione took another step closer, freeing her lip from her teeth. “Tell me why you hate me.”

She watched as a myriad of emotions finally broke through his carefully crafted nonchalance. Grief, frustration, hope – Draco shook his head as if to clear them from his mind.

“I don’t hate you.” He sounded pained. Good, Hermione thought. “I could never hate you.”

“Then why–”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of losing you, Hermione.” She nearly wept at the way he said her name. “Your friendship, your trust – you – I can’t do it. And it isn’t fair to you, either. I might want you, but I refuse to spend every waking moment near you, wanting to kiss you, to touch you, knowing that I can’t. So, it’s best if you just go back to your dorm–”

“So kiss me.”

Hermione tilted her chin up to counteract the flush blooming across her cheeks and neck. Draco stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“What?”

“So kiss me.” She shrugged, as if she hadn’t just opened herself up to the first person who could break her if he wanted. “Kiss me, touch me, get to know me. Fuck, I might let you love me, Draco. But you need to–”

He moved faster than she’d expected, his hands winding into her hair and tilting her head back so that he could press his lips to hers. The kiss was frazzled – clumsy, hot, open-mouthed – and Hermione matched him movement for movement. Her lips parted the moment his tongue asked for entrance, and she lost herself in the taste and the smell of him.

They stayed in the Astronomy Tower that night, kissing, touching, and laughing until dawn broke over the horizon. When the first rays of sunrise sparkled in his eyes, Hermione understood what he meant. And she knew that she wouldn’t be able to walk away from him now.

[klausinamarink]

In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain

rating: M | cw: major character death, mild gore | tags: witch Steve, necromancy, rituals, brief appearance of possessive Steve | wc: 992

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 20: Magic au

Despite the roar of thunder above him, Steve continued his trek into the woods. He stomped hard onto the still-fresh footprints of the crowd that had passed here. Beneath his boots, the ground smothered and turned the new trail into golden-red flecks of ember, floating towards the town by the growing winds.

The willow trees wept to Steve, their leaves brushing across his raised shoulders and wet cheeks. We tried to stop them. We heard his cries but we had done nothing. One older willow stopped him for a moment’s notice, pleading for his mercy. I offered shelter for you and your beloved but they burned my fingers when I reached out.

Steve forgave them all. You made your attempts but do not harm yourselves, he told them. The older willow tree wept again and let him go.

Lightning flashed in the sky. Steve sparsely caught his reflection on the bubbling creek. He looked disheveled. His hair was tangled in different directions, his clothes looked baggy, tears stained his cheeks, and his hands were already from gripping the shovel and ax for so long.

The creek with its minnows and newts lamented for him. We tried to stop them. We tried to drown them but they shoved his head into us. Our waters have always been refreshing to both of you so we couldn’t end him, even in his suffering.

Steve forgave them all. You were always kind and accommodating to us so do not poison your waters with your suffering, he told them and continued on his way.

As he reached the end of the trail, where the embers under his boots stopped burning at the tainted clearing, thunder and lightning embraced each other at once. Then it began to rain. Thick droplets landed on the new grave, twisting the torn up ground awake. They wailed to him.

They’ve hurt him. They hurt us. We tried to stop. But their feet trampled on us and spilled his blood like it was their precious alcohol. They’ve violated the grounds of your loving embraces into this.

Steve forgave them all. Please do not hurt yourselves, but take your revenge on anyone who trespassed here, he told them. The ruined ground wailed again, their cries going silent as Steve started digging.

They haven’t buried him too deep. When Steve saw why, his anger turned the thunder deafening.

They had cut Eddie’s body apart. His bloodied head was placed under his arm, which was missing a hand. His torso had chunks of flesh missing and was only attached to his legs by a single intestine. His feet looked like they had been broken by a hammer.

Steve kept his tears secure in his eyes, careful not to spill them onto Eddie’s remains as he tenderly lifted him out. Once his body was found whole, Steve wrapped him around a quilt like he was tucking in a child for a long journey.

Underneath his knees, the ground wailed again and turned angry, rolling down to the south. Steve stood up and picked up the ax again. The ground was already sinking a blond man, whom Steve recognized at once.

“Witch!” Jason Carver spat, his hair drenched on his forehead, “Release me and face punishment.”

Steve shed exactly three drops of tears as he raised the ax above him.

To revive a soul is to sacrifice a soul, no matter how good or wicked either may be.

—

In his secure and well-hidden covered wagon, Steve worked feverishly in the dark. He shook not with the cold, but with grief and exhaustion. He had rushed back to the town once the winds carried Dustin’s panicked news of the accusations against Eddie for suspected murder and witchcraft. But even though his return failed to prevent Eddie’s fate, Steve refused to let his beloved rot from such injustice.

The storm rattled on, contempt in his aid.

He finished the stitching, cutting the thread with his grandmother’s golden scissors. Then he took the moon-crescent silver knife and carved it into his left side. Steve focused onto the rapid plattering of the rain as the blade touched his sixth rib bone. Once the rib was cut, Steve dragged the knife so it slit easily through his flesh, allowing the bone to come out.

He gently placed his rob bone in Eddie’s hands, positioned to be crossed over his chest, right above where his heart would start again.

Steve lit the candles. Two on both sides of Eddie’s head and seven at his feet. Representing the two lives his lover will now have and the seven realms that gifted magic at every witch’s fingertips.

Steve placed his hands firmly on top of Eddie’s still chest. He sucked in a deep breath and, after hours of containment, finally screamed out his anguish.

In between the short pauses for air, Steve thought of every memory he had with Eddie. Their first run-in at the market, Eddie’s musical flirting, Steve growing a sunflower in between their cupped hands, their first lovemaking, and the very last kiss Eddie had given him when Steve had left.

The flames of the candles grew brighter and taller. Steve could no longer hear the thunder. His horrible cries filled the wagon more. He tasted the salt of tears as they fell onto Eddie’s unmoving face.

An ice-cold breeze passed through Steve’s body, silencing him. He dared not to look up, for no one knows what their own death would look like, even to the Foresights. He kept his eyes on Eddie, watching and waiting for the first sign of life.

A small light-blue wisp fled through Eddie’s lips. Then his eyes shot open, coughing and gasping for air. His chest finally heaved underneath Steve’s hands, though he only removed once he felt the confident heart beat.

As Steve held Eddie close and tight, thanking for his lover’s second chance, he Swore to him to never let Eddie escape his sight again.

[greenhousethree]

In Search of an Oak (Microfic and New Fic!)

2nd June Prompt for @hinnymicrofic: Today (500 words)

This scene preludes my latest fic, which can be found on AO3.

“Trying to give my brother space?”

She’d found Hermione on the back porch, secluded in the Burrow’s shadow, rocking the swing with one toe on the ground. The chains creaked when she sat.

Finally, the gathering in the garden was dwindling. Maybe some had finally arrived at the idea that her family couldn’t wait for today to end. That her parents needed rest after burying their son.

Hermione’s lip quirked. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

Ginny examined her, finding the same guilt she’d seen in Lee. It was less frustrating than all the pity. “You know Harry broods alone, not Ron, right? My brothers are pretty social creatures.” 

Across the garden, Bill was conjuring a lantern, surrounded by red-haired men at the table from where she’d come.

Hermione smiled wanly in response. “He needs time with family. He’s been around me plenty.”

Ginny swirled and sipped her wine as a lonely chill slipped down her spine— a longing to wrap her arms around herself, hold herself together. It crept in to fill her suspended detachment, born from a unique combination of grief and liquor. 

“Sweet of you. Seems like he’d want you around, though. Things are different between you two now, yeah?”

Hermione shrugged and smirked, lifting her glass to drink. Ginny watched her family and guests, plates of hors d'oeuvres and murmured conversations. Her gaze wandered involuntarily to the lone dark-haired figure sat beneath the huge old willow, and Hermione’s followed.

“Is he alright?” The question tumbled out without permission, startling her.

Hermione sighed, raising one halfhearted shoulder.

“What happened out there, Hermione?”

Surely she'd be far from the first to ask. Far from the first who needed to know.

Hermione watched Harry, lips forming a thin line. “I don’t even think I know the whole story,” she finally said. “He’s got a lot on his mind.”

“That’s new.”

The older witch snorted into her glass before giving her an odd look. “I’m sure he would tell you, you know.”

Ginny drank deeply. Bristled at the fear tingeing her voice, incapable of more than a whisper: “We’ve barely exchanged more than five words. He doesn’t want to talk.”

Hermione frowned. “Harry's always been rubbish at this…. he’s probably been trying to give you space. But he still has feelings for you.”

“And what makes you think that?”

Her smile was pained. “It wasn’t easy to keep secrets, Ginny.”

They both jumped as the back door opened and Fleur swept outside, levitating several flasks of pumpkin juice. 

“I’m serious,” Hermione pressed with finality as they both rose to assist.

Ginny eyed him again as she collected empty plates, her stomach churning uneasily, firewhisky and wine smudging the edges between her thoughts. Today, her brother was in the ground. Today, they’d all made it past the end of the world. It filled her with the distinct resolve of having nothing to lose.

She refilled her glass, armoring herself, and took the first few steps across the garden.

Read the full story here.