#September

[phlebaswrites]

Talk and Truth

Summary:

Madara knows what it is to be afraid.

But sharing that fear is harder.

Rating: Mature Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara/Uzumaki Mito Word Count: 685 (Complete)

Entry for Naruto Polyamory Appreciation 2022 @polyam-naruto

Mission failure / Rumors

For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals. Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination. We learned to talk. — Stephen Hawking

Madara chews on his lip as he stares out over the garden.

The serene pond, the flowers and trees that Hashirama tends so carefully... it's usually a calming view, but not today.

Not when Izuna is on a mission with Tobirama and they are ten days late.

Read the rest on AO3.

[candyje11yfish]

GUYS!!!! LUMITY WEEK 2024!!!! WERE SOOOO BACK YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEEEANS!,!,!!,!

[alisadraws]

Hermione in a dark academia inspired outfit

[artofloof]

Day 5: illusion

illusion of winning

[g0nefischin]

Yeehawgust 2024

Day 31 - Cowboys Never Die

Let us erase this pointless world, and move on to the next.

[adverbally]

The Victims Have Been Bled

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Vampire” | wc: 1,585 | rated: M | cw: canon-typical violence and gore, violent animal death (offscreen but the aftermath is discussed), non-con/rape vibes around a forced biting situation | tags: evil vampire Eddie, psychological torment, obsession, vampire lore in the style of Buffy the Vampire Slayer | title from “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” by Bauhaus

———

It starts small. Misplaced belongings, clothes that he must have left at Robin’s the last time he slept over. Feeling like he’s being watched from the tree line in the backyard. Startling awake from a dead sleep, thinking he heard someone call his name. Just enough to leave him unsettled.

Then the dead animals start appearing around his yard. Rats and birds, at first, making Steve wonder if a stray cat is leaving gifts on his doorstep, until the carcasses get bigger. Rabbits, bobcats, foxes, even a massive buck one memorable morning. As vicious as their wounds are, there’s hardly any blood on them.

“They’re being killed somewhere else,” Robin theorizes, pacing around Steve’s kitchen. “That’s why there’s so little blood, someone is doing the killing somewhere else and bringing the bodies here.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Steve rubs his hands over his face. He’s hardly slept in the past week, jumping at every little noise in the hopes of catching the culprit in the act.

Robin’s face is serious. “To send you a message.”

Hopper seems to agree, since he asks the department to assign a patrol to Steve’s block. “Make sure you’re locking your doors and windows,” he reminds Steve as they walk the perimeter of the house. “People who kill animals for fun don’t always stop there.”

Steve keeps everything locked up, even when he’s staying at someone else’s place more nights than not. Robin’s parents insist it’s safer for him to stay with them than in that big empty house, and Dustin invites him over when his mom has to work the night shift. It would be kind of nice, being fussed over like this, if the circumstances weren’t so alarming.

Being around other people doesn’t stop the dreams, though. Every night it’s the same— someone whispering Steve’s name right behind him, cold fingers tracing over his shoulders and up his neck. Let me in, they encourage, until it feels like the idea was Steve’s to begin with, until teeth (fangs?) sink into his flesh with a sting that radiates red-hot through his body and he’s gripping at the cool limbs holding him in place like they’re the only thing keeping him from floating away…

When Steve wakes up, he’s drenched in sweat and hard in his boxers and shaking with fear.

He’s sick of this game, where he’s not even a player but a pawn to be toyed with. He’s sick of being afraid of every little sound in the dark and sick of wondering how far this is going to go. He’s not waiting around until things get worse or this psycho goes after his friends. This ends tonight.

The sun is just sinking below the horizon when Steve pulls into the driveway. The front yard is clear, from what he can tell, and the house stands dark and silent in the twilight. He grabs his bat from the trunk of his car and heads around to the backyard.

The pool lights are on and steam is rising from the surface into the cool autumn air, though he’s pretty sure he shut everything off before he left. Steve’s sweaty grip tightens, raising the bat so he’s ready to swing at the first sign of trouble.

As he inches past the diving board toward the back door, a dark shape in the water catches his eye.

“Hey,” he calls with a confidence he doesn’t feel, “I’m gonna give you one minute to leave before I call the cops.”

There’s no response, just the gentle splash of the water as the shadow floats around.

Steve takes a step closer. “You hear me?” It’s so hard to see in the fading light and steam coming off the water. He scoots as close as he dares to the edge of the pool and squints for a better look.

It’s a body.

A woman’s body, with long brown hair and suntanned skin and freckles, wearing a yellow sweater and blue jeans and white sneakers. She’s clearly dead, floating with her pale face on display and her vacant stare aimed at the sky.

“Pretty, huh?”

Steve startles at the voice echoing across the water. “Who’s there?” he calls back in the direction of the tall dark figure at the other end of the pool.

“She reminded me of you,” they continue, ambling along the deck toward Steve with a purpose that feels predatory. “Gorgeous hair, all those little beauty marks.” They tilt their head thoughtfully. “You won’t beg like she did at the end, you’re braver than that. I just wish you could’ve been a little braver when it counted. Probably would’ve saved my life.”

The back of Steve’s neck prickles. That’s the voice from his dream, but it sounds familiar now in a way it hadn’t upon waking. His voice shakes when he asks, “Eddie?”

“Steve?” he mimics, pitching it to match Steve’s fear, before he relaxes into his natural voice. “Yeah, did you miss me?”

“You were dead,” Steve insists, trying to hold the bat steady in front of his body as Eddie continues to stalk around the pool, closer and closer. He can make out his shape now, the riot of curls and his lanky frame and the big, piercing eyes peering out of the darkness.

He shrugs. “That’s the first step. Imagine my surprise, waking up alone in the Upside Down, knowing I had died but feeling better than ever. Stronger, faster.” His grin shows a glint of fang. “Deadlier.”

Steve shakes his head uselessly. “The animals, the dreams— that was all you.” It’s not a question but a painful statement of fact.

“I’ve been thinking about you. Even before I died, you know? Popular, gorgeous, noble Steve Harrington, who wouldn’t fall for you? I just wanted to make sure you were thinking of me, too.”

“Yeah, mission accomplished,” Steve spits. “You’ve been tormenting me for months.”

“You think you know torment?” Eddie closes his eyes and tips his head back as he takes in an exaggerated breath through his nose. “Every night, I stand out here and smell you. All spicy and warm. It’s so good, it’s like torture, especially when I know you’re gonna taste even better.” When they open again, his eyes are such a deep red they seem to glow.

“You need to leave,” Steve tells him.

Eddie laughs out loud, that same wicked cackle that was so contagious. Now it just makes Steve’s blood run cold. “Who’s gonna make me?”

Steve doesn’t even think before he’s sprinting for the back door, following some primal corner of his brain that’s telling him to run for his life. He makes it about halfway there before he’s tackled to the deck.

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie croons from above him, “you didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for me.” He mouths at Steve’s jaw, buries his nose just under his ear and sniffs.

Eddie hadn’t been kidding about the enhanced strength; he doesn’t even flinch when Steve pounds his fists against his chest or tries to push his face away.

“I can make it so good for you,” Eddie promises. He licks a thick stripe up Steve’s neck that makes him shiver despite himself. “Just a little taste. Then you’ll be begging me for more.”

“No, Eddie, please,” Steve protests, no longer fighting down the terrified tears springing to his eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”

The scrape of fangs against his skin makes him feel sick. Desperately, he gropes along the deck with one hand, trying to get away from the piercing violation as Eddie bites down—

Steve’s fingers close around the handle of the bat where it had fallen beside him. Without a second thought, he raises it and slams it down into Eddie’s skull.

With a yowl, Eddie pulls away from him, distracted enough by the nails tearing through flesh and bone that Steve can shove him off and stumble to his feet, barely keeping hold of the bat. He darts forward, yanks at the handle on the sliding glass door, and…

It doesn’t budge. Through the glass, Steve can see the mechanism on the inside handle, firmly set to the locked position.

Thank god it’s glass, Steve thinks, and he winds up and swings the bat hard into the door. It shatters immediately and he jumps through the falling shards just as Eddie’s clawed fingers swipe at his jacket collar. From the pile of broken glass on the floor of the sunroom, Steve looks up and sees Eddie slamming his hands into an invisible barrier in the doorway.

So, it’s true that vampires can’t enter a private residence without permission. Steve makes a mental note to tell Dustin.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s head is drenched in his own blood and his eyes are flashing in the moonlight, but his manic grin hasn’t changed. “This is no way to treat a guest. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Steve claps a hand over the bite on his neck, putting pressure on the still-oozing wound. “Go to hell,” he says.

Any warmth that might have lingered in Eddie’s gaze disappears like a switch has been flipped. “I think you’re the one who’s going to be in hell,” he says calmly. “I’ll see you soon. Just let me know when you get tired of letting innocent people die in your place.”

With a little wave of his fingers, Eddie is gone.

Steve sits there among the broken pieces of glass and feels himself break a little, too.

[hersurvival]

It is the summer of 2008

And I have met a boy,

Sad and sweet and

Sick.

His cloudy eyes staring out ahead,

Singing his slave songs to cancer.

It is 2012 and he will pass.

No one knows this will be

His final bow and exit.

@nosebleedclub September 6th - Grand Exit

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I will be closing my inbox for writing requests at the end of August

So, first, I have been having a wonderful time seeing everyone's unique requests for writing, and I want to express how grateful I am that people enjoy my writing so much that they hand over their thoughts to have me play with. I love this fandom sandbox! <3

Second, though, because I have so, so many requests still to fill, I have decided I will be closing my inbox for writing requests at the end of August. I don't have the time to continue taking writing requests during the school year, so that's why I shut requests. However, the good news is that I don't go back to college until the very tail-end of September. So, I'm still going to be filling the writing requests I already have during that time gap. So, if you have any last-minute requests, I will take them until the 31st and (fingers-crossed) be able to turn around lots of writing before I hit the books again.

[ravendruid]

Hi there! I’m new here and would like to ask for your September prompts, Critical Role, Vaxleth, number 28 please

Hi!! Welcome in! Thank you so much for sending a prompt, I really appreciate it. I'm sorry it took me a few days to write it, I hope you like it ^_^

A Slice of Life

(Read on AO3)

Vax’ildan is not used to being the first one to wake up but since the heat of the Zephrahn summer has been unbearable on him, Vax has been waking up shortly after dawn for the past two days thanks to the already sweltering heat that makes it impossible for him to be under the covers with Keyleth, who, by herself, is already a naturally hot person. Vax doesn’t usually have to wait too long for Keyleth to turn in bed, face him, and kiss him good morning with her sleep-crusted eyes and hoarse voice, but for some reason, his usually morning butterfly of a girlfriend is enjoying the softness of the sheets this morning, so Vax takes the chance to stretch out like a cat and pads quietly out of the bedroom.

Their house is not big. It’s a one-bedroom cottage near the center of Zephrah, not too far from the building that acts as what some might call a town hall. It was an easy choice once Keyleth saw the vine and moss covered walls, the small but cute garden outback shaded by a large oak tree with a wooden swing hanging from a thick branch, and the pebbled path surrounded by bee and butterfly-friendly flowers. It didn’t matter much to Vax where they would stay in regards to proximity of work or what the house would look like as long as Keyleth was happy, but he has to admit that the charm of the run-down cottage has grown on him, especially with the work and hours Vax and Keyleth have put into repairing it.

The proportion of the rooms is not too far off with the house itself. The kitchen has limited counter space that has taught Vax to cherish storage spaces, with a small stove and oven, a sink and an ice box big enough for both of them; the living and dining room is one single area where they keep a high table with two stools behind the back of the soft, green couch. There was no room for Keyleth’s favorite armchair, though, so they opted to let it remain at her father’s house, but Keyleth affirmed she would not leave her favorite plush rug behind, so that is now decorating the floor between the couch and the fireplace. They also purchased a handmade bookshelf from a local woodcarver, who, when told who this order was for, carved their initials on the wood at the top. It now stands against a wall, holding the majority of Keyleth’s books—everything from Alchemy and Herbs, to romance and fairytale books—and all the trinkets Vax has collected over their years of adventuring. Their bedroom is probably one of the largest rooms in the house, with a big glass window that faces the backyard and the mountains. Keyleth had fun decorating it in a way that would include both their tastes and personalities, which Vax loved, and adding more ivy and plants everywhere she could. Sometimes Vax feels like he’s still sleeping under the canopy of a forest and not in a house.

Vax looks at the ice box when he steps into the kitchen area and he’s already shaking his head because he knows he will find it practically empty. Keyleth has had to travel to Vasselheim quite a lot this week, so they haven’t had the opportunity to get many homemade meals, and because of that, their groceries are lacking. However, Vax still finds enough to whip up something: a small carton of eggs Korrin brought over yesterday, a little bit of milk left from Vax’s breakfasts, and even a few slices of bacon. It’s not much, but it’ll do. As long as they have coffee, Vax knows he will be safe.

So Vax puts on the black apron Keyleth made for him, the one where she embroidered Kiss the Rogue on the chest area in red with a fanged mouth—she will never let him forget how his first instinct was to charm the Briarwoods to get out of trouble the first time he encountered them—last Winter’s Crest, and he starts preparing breakfast, which doesn’t take too long. 

Vax was fully expecting the smell of fresh brewed coffee and crispy bacon would be enough to rouse Keyleth, but it seems like his druid might be having a bad case of lazy morning because when he cracks the bedroom door open to check on her, she is still sleeping, snoring lightly while sprawled out on the bed with the sheets bundled at her feet and her red, messy braid falling on his pillow. Vax can’t help but chuckle at the sight as he crosses the bedroom to open the window. It doesn’t do much to stave off the heat (if anything it brings even more heat), but at least the singing of the birds is louder and the room feels more in-tune with nature.

“Kiki,” Vax calls softly, brushing a strand of hair from the little of Keyleth’s face he can see. The woman doesn’t stir, so far out she is to the world. Vax can’t blame her with all the work Keyleth has had, with the nights she’s been staying up, looking up information, reading reports and other documents, until Vax says ‘enough is enough’ and drags her to bed. Keyleth needs this rest, which is the biggest reason that Vax decides to try only one more time. If she doesn’t wake up, then it’s because she clearly isn’t ready to.

“Keyleth,” Vax shakes her shoulder lightly this time. Finally there is a sign of recognition as Keyleth stirs and hums. “Morning, beautiful,” Vax brushes Keyleth’s hair, speaking softly when she starts moving her long, sprawled out limbs. He watches as the druid curls into herself and, for a moment, Vax regrets waking her up, but then Keyleth slowly opens one eye, followed by the other, and he gets to see those bright, green eyes he loves so much, and every thought leaves his head.

“Uhm,” Keyleth hums, turning on her back and stretching out like a starfish as long as she can, which makes Vax laugh. He’s never seen her like this, so sleepy and relaxed. It’s adorable. “No,” Keyleth grumbles, bringing her bottom lip up in a pout when she sees Vax. 

“No?” 

“Come back to bed,” Keyleth orders. Vax laughs again and shakes his head, saying, “It’s too hot, and I made breakfast.”

The last word seems to be incentive enough to make Keyleth open her eyes wider and focus on him, and Vax can practically see the cog wheels of her brain dust off the rust and start working. 

“Coffee?” She asks.

“Coming right up,” Vax kisses her forehead before he steps out into the kitchen, where he grabs both mugs of coffee and brings them back to the bedroom. “Would you also like breakfast in bed, your highness?” He jokes. Keyleth doesn’t reply until after she grabs the coffee mug from him, takes a large gulp and sighs from the quick boost of caffeine. 

“Yes, please.”

“Sorry it’s not much,” Vax apologizes when he brings a plate with eggs, toast and bacon. “We’re running out of food.”

“It’s everything,” Keyleth smiles like a little kid on Winter’s Crest. “It tastes good too.”

“I’m glad,” Vax kisses her cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a stone.”

“I could tell. You were snoring really loud. I think everyone in town heard you.” Vax jokes, waggling his eyebrows at her. Keyleth gives him an offended look which Vax can’t take seriously due to the piece of toast hanging out of her mouth. 

“Liar. I did not snore,” Keyleth admonishes him. Vax snorts into his coffee and gives her a wink over the rim of his mug. “Did you sleep well?” Keyleth asks.

“Too hot. Seriously, why is it so hot here?” Vax complains and to emphasize, he takes off his sweat-damp tunic.

“Not a lot of wind to cool things down,” Keyleth explains. “I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering we are the Air Ashari, but the protective barrier that keeps all the bad weather out also keeps out most of the winds that are characteristic of the Summit Peaks, which means it can get pretty toasty in Zephrah.”

“Can you do something about it?” Vax asks. Keyleth can do a lot of pretty awesome things these days—one of her most recent tricks is being able to turn into a dragon, which almost sent Vax to an early grave from admiration the first time he witnessed it—so maybe she can do something about the heat.

“Technically, I can, yes, but I would need the agreement from the rest of the elder council.”

The stupid elder council, Vax thinks. The group of older, wiser people that ensure the wishes of all citizens are met, or at least heard. They would never allow Keyleth to change the protective barrier to allow more wind through to lower the town’s temperature because, in Vax’s opinion, they are all a group of stuck-up, ancient old bags who hate change and keep rejecting every single proposal Keyleth has brought to the table when it concerns the development of Zephrah (including the creation of an elite group of soldiers whose job would be to protect the town, and technically the Tempest, from external threats). 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Keyleth promises when she notices Vax’s downcast gaze. 

“You know… things would be easier if you’d just allow me to have a little talk with them,” Vax mumbles. It’s only here, in the safety of their home, that Keyleth feels free and secure enough to voice her thoughts and, on several occasions, she has voiced how much she hates the council and their blocks to her plans, and it’s not that Vax prefers violence, but he has offered his assassin services to her on multiple occasions… or at least just enough to scare them off. 

“This is my battle, Vax,” Keyleth replies sternly, as she always does. “But thank you. I appreciate the offer.” She leans in to kiss his cheek.

Vax picks up Keyleth’s empty plate and mug and sets them on his nightstand with his empty dishes. “You know my services are free for you, right?” Vax says, slowly crawling towards Keyleth. 

“Oh? They are?” She smirks. Keyleth hooks a finger under Vax’s chin and pulls him until he’s kneeling between her legs. “What kind of services are we talking about, then?”

“Oh, you know… All sorts of… services,” Vax teases feather-light touches over Keyleth’s shoulders, dragging down the thin straps of her nightgown. “Oops,” He smiles as the fabric falls down Keyleth’s torso and pools at her waist, exposing her breasts.

“I hope these ‘services’ are also exclusive for me,” Keyleth cocks an eyebrow, amused. 

“Of course, love,” Vax murmurs, locking his mouth with the column of Keyleth’s neck. She twists her head to the side to allow him an easier access, which Vax gladly takes.

“I assume… you don’t have to… rush to work… this morning?” He asks, trailing kisses up her jaw between words.

“I took the day off. I felt like I had to compensate you for all the late hours,” Keyleth manages to say with a raspy breath. Vax smiles victoriously as he reaches her mouth. 

“Well. We should make the most of this free time, then.”

Every day, Vax finds a different reason for why he loves Keyleth so much, and every day the woman finds a different way to show him just how much she loves him. Today she does it not only in the form of a somewhat lazy morning, spent with their naked bodies intertwined in bed, but also in the form of a nice, summer breeze coming in through the open window, cool enough to make the newly-added heat of their bodies more bearable for Vax.

[gwaha]

summer 🌅

xivsapphicsunday prompt !! lucienne doesn't like limsa at all, but she'll endure it for her beloved ❣️

[n7punk]

Pairings: Adora/Catra (Catradora). Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018). Series: Sapphic September 2024 @sapphic-september

Rating: G. Chapters: 1/1. Words: 6k.

Summary: Catra and Adora were the only survivors of the right age to be the Avatar from the attack on the Eastern Air Temple, but Catra’s parentage is mixed, and when she proves herself to be a firebender, all pressure is placed on Adora. For their entire childhood, she is tested, the monks never knowing if the avatar died when their sister temple was destroyed or if she is their savior. Finally, the proof they’ve been waiting for comes, but in the wake of the discovery, the Fire Nation arrives, too. (Or, an Avatar AU snapshot)

[sesamestreep]

number 50 for the rogue one crew!! knowing full well that i have a prompt of yours regarding that very crew wallowing away in my inbox .... humblest apologies

50. the hands of fate (from this list) a quick sequel to this. cross-posted to ao3 here happy more joy day 2024 🩵🤍💙

Baze spent a good twenty years of his life listening to Chirrut tell him that they couldn't leave Jedha, whenever the subject arose. Baze's arguments—that their fellow Guardians were gone, that their religion had been all but wiped out, that their holy city was overrun by the Empire, and that there was nothing left for them there—had never made much of an impression. Chirrut remained adamant that they needed to stay and when Baze asked him why, he only said the reason would become apparent in time. Baze, at least, had a lifetime of experience listening to Chirrut's vague proclamations to prevent him from getting too annoyed with this non-explanation. Being more in-tune with the machinations of the Force than Baze is, and being deeply beloved by him regardless, Chirrut can get away with such things.

He'd almost shouted at him on the ship as they narrowly escaped the destruction on Jedha. Had that been why they needed to remain? So they could watch their home, already stripped of its autonomy and its peace for so long, finally be annihilated before their very eyes? His eyes. Chirrut does not—cannot—watch. He hadn't been sure who, of the two of them, was the luckier in that moment. But they hadn't been alone then. They were surrounded by strangers and, while he wasn't above giving Chirrut a piece of his mind with an audience present, he hesitated to give these people on whom their lives now depended the impression they'd picked up two raving mad men in the desert. After that, everything else had happened too quickly for Baze to have the luxury of deep contemplation and the matter had been pushed aside in favor of following the captain, of helping Jyn, of keeping an eye on their pilot. Arguing with Chirrut would have to wait.

Baze is ashamed to say he doesn't put it together on Scarif, not even when they'd all nearly died. He doesn't put it together when they're back with the Rebellion, keeping vigil in the medbay as, one by one, their crew—Rogue One, Bodhi had called it—healed up and moved on. He doesn't put it together even as he watches with mild amusement as Jyn and Cassian grow closer and closer like two trees twisting around each other in the wild, becoming inseparable as he and Chirrut did long ago. He doesn't put it together when what he once thought of as a natural tremor disappears entirely from Bodhi's voice, replaced with a tone of gentle command, or when the frost melts entirely from Jyn's demeanor when she interacts with her partner's droid and he is so entirely shocked when that same droid delicately—delicately!—inquires about Jyn's bloodwork halfway through her pregnancy and listens sympathetically as she rants about the medical droids the Rebellion employs that he can be forgiven for not noticing it then either.

No, he only puts it together when he's sitting with Kitri in his lap and she wraps her whole fist around his pointer finger and refuses to let go. It's a random, seemingly insignificant moment for his heart to stop and the whole of his life to suddenly come into sharp and coherent focus, but he assumes no one really gets to choose these things or their timing for themselves.

Next to him, Chirrut makes an inquisitive noise, which probably means Baze stopped right in the middle of speaking.

"This is why we couldn't leave Jedha," Baze says, impressed that he's managing any words at all right now amidst what could most reasonably be called a life-changing revelation. "This is what we were waiting for, all that time. Them."

"Of course," Chirrut says, wiggling his fingers within capturing distance for the baby, much to her amusement, not seeming to understand or appreciate that Baze is going through something at the moment. "You mean to tell me you didn't know that?"

"You're telling me you did?"

"Not beforehand. I'm not psychic," Chirrut says, as if such a thing is entirely ludicrous to believe. As if that's not how it sometimes feels to Baze when Chirrut describes the way the Force moves around them all. "But the moment I spoke to Jyn, I knew. That's why we followed her and the captain! What did you think I was up to, if you didn't know until now?"

"I thought it was one of your strange whims, Chirrut."

"It's been years, you daft old man," Chirrut laughs.

"Yes, well..."

Chirrut shakes his head, amused. "You really will follow me anywhere, won't you?"

"Yes," Baze says, only vaguely embarrassed by the admission. "Don't act surprised."

Kit makes a noise of objection from her spot in his lap, the smallest foreshadow of an all-out cry, probably because she hasn’t successfully captured Chirrut’s hand with her own yet in this simple but frustrating game he’s initiated. Across the room, Baze sees Cassian, who has dark circles under his eyes again after many years of looking healthier and better rested (though these ones have appeared under happier circumstances), start to rise from his seat, ever watchful over his daughter’s moods and needs. Before he can get far, Baze sees Jyn put a hand gently on his forearm to arrest him and an entirely silent conversation happens between them in the brief eye contact that follows. He feels like he can read all of the beats of an argument and a counter argument and a surrender in the smallest lifting of eyebrows and lowering of lashes.

“We have help,” Jyn says, softly but firmly, as if they’ve spoken all of their concerns out loud so far.

“I know,” Cassian replies, and settles back in next to her. He briefly closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of his seat. Jyn doesn’t take her hand off his arm until he moves it to rest around her shoulders a moment later. Looking over to Baze, Cassian adds, “If you need me to take her, though—”

In the very same moment that Jyn reaches out to swat him for that, Kit screeches with laughter, having finally captured her other uncle’s hand and covered it in an unfathomable amount of drool in an incredibly short amount of time, and diverting Baze’s attention from her parents at last. Next to him, Chirrut smiles with a dangerous amount of pride.

“The Force moves delightedly around this one,” he says, surrendering to this injustice with good sportsmanship as always. “She would have made an excellent Guardian.”

Before the pain of that pronouncement can hit him, Baze hears Jyn speak up. “Good thing we picked up a couple of them in our travels back in the day,” she says, turning to Cassian. “Smart of us, wasn’t it?”

Cassian nods, not so successfully hiding a smile. “Wouldn’t want her squandering any of her potential,” he says. “You’ll have to keep an eye on this connection to the Force, Chirrut. Let us know if she needs any training…”

Chirrut lifts his head at that, looking like a hunting animal picking up a scent. The idea of it hadn’t occurred to him either, then, which makes Baze feel less stupid for not thinking of it himself. He’d grown so accustomed to think of the Guardians as gone and dead, like Jedha was, or at the very least nearly extinct. Kitri’s far too young to have the survival of an entire religion on her shoulders, but he and Chirrut can tell her the names of their teachers and elders and friends and their stories will survive for another generation. There are other children of the Rebellion, too. Their way of life need not die with them. It’s a heady, baffling new feeling, this untempered hope. They’ve been rationing it out carefully among them for years and to have his fill of it all at once is slightly overwhelming.

Chirrut’s expression would be closed off to anyone who hasn’t known him for fifty years, but Baze sees through its defenses quite easily. He sees the surprise and the awe and the barely guarded delight all there plainly. Chirrut turns his attention down to Kit, still chewing on his hand happily, and runs a palm over the sparse but silken hair on her head lovingly, and something heavy and ancient slots into place in Baze’s soul, the final piece of a long forgotten puzzle settling in where it belongs.

“Good to see there are some things in the galaxy that can still surprise you, old man,” Baze says, not sounding nearly as irreverent as he wishes to.

Kit laughs in the same moment Chirrut does, like she’s in on the joke somehow, like she’s been waiting for it. And who knows? Maybe she is. Maybe she has.

[jinkoh]

considering to do a kinktober of sorts 🫣 should i? should i not? 🫣🫣

[femininomen0n]

i’m so tired i could faint but i still have to do my calc homework 🫠

[galacii-gallery]

Might be making a prompt challenge thing for Shattered next month 👀

[adverbally]

Just Leave It All Up to Me

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “service dom” | wc: 1,842 | rated: E | cw: none | tags: stress relief, bathing, anal sex, light d/s, dom Steve, sub Eddie | title from “Kiss” by Prince

———

Steve can tell as soon as Eddie walks in the door that he’s going to need some pampering. It’s in the slump of his shoulders, the way his hair hangs limply around his face as he sits his bag down and kicks off his shoes. When Eddie looks up, his eyes are dark and sunken with exhaustion. He’s all but begging for Steve to take care of him.

“Long day?” Steve hums sympathetically as he takes Eddie in his arms.

The sigh he lets out is a response in itself, but Eddie lets his forehead fall to Steve’s shoulder and groans, “The longest.”

Steve can feel the tension in his body, the tightness in his shoulders and his stiff neck and the way Eddie’s weight leans more heavily on his left leg than his right. Years later and they’re still dealing with the Upside Down, just fighting chronic pain rather than demobats.

“Would a bath help?” Steve suggests, ducking his head to nose at the delicate shell of Eddie’s ear. “I’ll use the soap you like, maybe even wash your hair?”

“If I could lift my head, I would kiss you right now.” It comes out muffled against the thick knit of Steve’s sweater.

It takes ages to help Eddie limp down the hallway and get him into a steaming bathtub, but the sound he makes as he sinks into the water makes it all worth it. Steve watches him go boneless as the stress melts from his body, skin turning pink from the warmth and gentle scrubbing, eyes half-lidded like he could doze off under Steve’s protective gaze and soothing hands. It’s incredible, seeing the trust Eddie puts in him.

“You could, like, do this for a living,” Eddie slurs, leaning back into Steve’s massaging motions as they sweep across his shoulders and work the lingering ache from his muscles.

Steve laughs, soft but echoing off the tile. “You don’t want me all to yourself?”

With a magnanimous wave of his hand, flinging water droplets, Eddie proclaims, “I’m far too selfless to deprive the public of your gifts.”

“Real selfless, pimping me out,” Steve pretends to grumble, digging in with his thumbs as he strokes down either side of Eddie’s neck.

Whatever smart retort Eddie was planning evaporates into a breathy gasp at the sensation. “Nope, changed my mind,” he groans, “you’re not allowed to touch anyone else.”

“Why would I want to?” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s soapy shoulder blade. “You’re all I need.”

Eddie turns so fast that water sloshes onto the floor, soaking the knees of Steve’s sweatpants where he kneels on the bathmat. “Okay, bath time is over.” He leans over the edge of the tub to beckon Steve into a kiss, which he grants.

It’s tricky, guiding Eddie to his feet when he’s all loose limbs and wandering hands, but Steve is experienced at wrangling him. Once Eddie is upright and safely wrapped in his towel, Steve rewards him with another kiss. This one lingers, invites Eddie closer, coaxes his mouth open, turns into another kiss, and another, and another.

“Let me take you to bed,” Steve breaks away to murmur. His fingers clench in the soft cotton of the towel where its edges meet over Eddie’s sternum. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You already do.” Eddie looks so small with his wet hair and his towel draped over his shoulders like a cape. He looks so beautiful with his pupils blown wide and his mouth swollen and red.

Steve wants to take care of him. He will take care of him, for as long as Eddie lets him.

For tonight, he takes Eddie by the hand and leads him to their bed. He lays him out on the sheets, still rumpled from how they were left that morning, and kisses him again and again until Eddie is fully hard and rutting against his hip.

“What do you want?” Steve breathes against Eddie’s cheek.

“You pick,” Eddie demurs.

It’s delicious, seeing him start to sink into submission. Steve’s mind races with the possibilities here: sucking Eddie off until he’s squirming with oversensitivity, holding him down and teasing his prostate until his cock is steadily leaking, spanking his ass until it’s as red as his tear-stained face.

But Steve notices how Eddie clings to him, keeping them close with a hand on Steve’s lower back while the other tangles in his hair. Eddie’s thighs squeeze his hips so they remain pressed together. Every kiss drags into the next like Eddie can’t bear to stop. It’s clear to Steve that Eddie is seeking comfort and reassurance and connection, and Steve will give him everything he wants.

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?” He still likes to ask, even after all this time. It lets Steve confirm that he’s read the situation correctly and builds the anticipation in a way that Eddie can never get enough of.

True to form, Eddie’s grip tightens at the nape of Steve’s neck. “Please.” His voice is thick with need.

“Get the lube out of the drawer,” Steve instructs. While Eddie contorts his upper body to reach the bedside table, Steve sits back on his heels to quickly shed his clothes. Once he’s done tugging his shirt off, Eddie is already holding the tube of lubricant out to him. “Perfect,” he praises, delighting in the flush that spreads down Eddie’s neck and chest at his words.

It’s easy to nudge Eddie into position, his legs spread and hips propped up by a pillow, and start teasing him with the tip of a slick finger. Something possessive burns in Steve’s chest at the sight of Eddie splayed out for him to pleasure. Nobody gets this view but Steve. Nobody else can see Eddie’s hands gripping his own thighs, holding himself open, trying to ground himself as Steve circles his twitching hole.

Eddie gasps when Steve presses inside in one smooth thrust. One finger isn’t much of a stretch but Eddie is hungry for it, arching into it. Two fingers have his knuckles turning white as he fights to stay still. Three fingers have him biting his lip to keep from moaning on every exhale or begging to be fucked. Eddie knows that he doesn’t even have to ask; Steve will always give him what he needs.

By the time Steve is slicking his cock and lining up with Eddie’s entrance, Eddie’s lashes are clumped with tears and his lips are swollen red from his own teeth.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Steve reassures him, using his unlubed hand to brush damp hair from Eddie’s forehead.

He moves slowly, sinking his cock into Eddie inch by inch. Every twitch shows on Eddie’s face, furrowing his brow and dropping his jaw as he adjusts to the stretch. Relief and pleasure, plain and simple. Once Steve is all the way inside, Eddie lets go of his legs and loops his arms around Steve’s neck instead.

“Good?” Steve asks.

“So good,” Eddie agrees. Steve can tell just by looking at him, all loose limbs and dark eyes and tongue darting out to wet his lips, but the verbal confirmation relaxes Steve just the same.

He keeps the movements of his hips slow and easy, unwilling to rush this when he’s taking care of Eddie. Just a gentle rocking motion, barely pulling out before gliding back in, keeping Eddie full of him. With his face so close to Eddie’s, he can feel his exhales against his cheek. They mirror each other, one breathing in while the other breathes out, perfectly in sync.

“There you go,” Steve whispers. “So good for me.”

Eddie shuts his eyes, looking almost pained from the overwhelming pleasure. “I love you,” he whimpers. He reaches for his cock where it lies leaking against his belly, eager to come.

Steve beats him to it. His hand is still wet with the residual lube from opening Eddie up, so the slide is smooth as Steve strokes him, keeping the same unhurried pace as his thrusts. “I love you, too,” he rambles, “so much, wanna make you feel good. Want you to come for me.”

Before he can say a word, Eddie comes hard, cock jerking in Steve’s hand as he spills all over his own abdomen and clenches around Steve like he wants to keep him inside. He pulls Steve’s face down to his own to kiss him through the aftershocks.

“God, you’re pretty,” Steve groans, speeding up his thrusts to chase his own orgasm.

Eddie’s half-incoherent retort is muffled between their mouths. Steve thinks he says, “Be even prettier full of your come,” but it comes out so breathless and urgent that it doesn’t even sound like English. It makes Steve laugh to himself, which makes Eddie start laughing too, and Steve laughs even harder until he goes a little cross-eyed and comes.

They collapse in a sweaty, sticky puddle of manic exhaustion and giggles. Eddie’s arms are still around Steve’s neck, holding him in place like a human blanket as they kiss each other into silence again. It’s comfortable, both of them boneless and giddy and unable to separate their mouths for more than a breath.

Without looking, Steve rummages for the package of wet wipes in the bedside drawer.

“Shh, you’re being too loud,” Eddie scolds him. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut like the warm glow of the bedside lamp is too bright, like the noise Steve is making adds too much to his sensory overwhelm as he comes back to earth.

“I’m doing you a favor.” Steve waves his prize in Eddie’s face before dropping the package to the bed beside them and fishing out a handful of wipes.

First he tackles the sticky mess all over Eddie’s front, making him squirm and shriek at the cold, before cleaning as much come from his ass as he can before it leaks all over the sheets. Then he gingerly wipes down his own softening cock, wincing at the sensitivity.

“See, much better.” Steve kisses Eddie’s forehead before lying down again. “And I didn’t even have to drag you out of bed for a shower.”

“There’s always next time,” Eddie says around a yawn. “Ugh, why am I so tired? You’re the one who did all the work.”

Steve nuzzles his nose into Eddie’s chest, breathing in the smell of sweat and sex that’s been partially covered by the chemically “fresh” scent of the wet wipes. “You’re right, next time you get to wait on me hand and foot.”

It’s a joke, they both know it is, but Eddie still clears his throat and says, “I know how hard you try to make me feel special. To take care of me. I want to make sure you know how much I appreciate you and everything you do, and I hope I can be that for you, too.”

“Of course you are,” Steve is quick to affirm, racing the tears welling in his eyes. “And it’s easy, taking care of you. Loving you.” He kisses the damp skin under his cheek and croaks, “It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

They fall asleep like that, touching each other everywhere they can reach and loving each other, as easy as breathing.