#also with how much force he hugged him almost lifting him from his feet

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Zelenskyy awarded Zaluzhny and Budanov the title Hero of Ukraine

[urdreamydoodles]

I love reading and re-reading your stories they really help me out especially if my day isn't the best I'm (5'3) and a cyclops fan and was wondering if you could write something cute about Scott with a short s/o

Thank you for what you do I hope you have a good day

Scott Summers "Cyclops" x Short!Reader

How Scott treats his short S/O

Scott Summers always takes extra care to treat his short partner with tenderness.

Character: Scott Summers

From one small person to another, thank you for this prompt. Hope you like it! I hope the coming days will be good for you ♡ — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

- Scott Summers had always been the definition of practical, organized, and focused. You, on the other hand, had a slightly different set of challenges, especially given your shorter stature compared to him. While you were fully capable of handling most things, Scott’s height advantage often came into play in funny and sometimes romantic ways. One of the most noticeable everyday occurrences was when he would effortlessly reach for things on the top shelf while you either waited for him to do so or, more often, tried to find a way to manage on your own.

- Scott found your determination adorable. Sometimes he would watch as you dragged a chair across the kitchen or living room to grab something, knowing you wouldn’t ask for help. He’d try not to smirk but would almost always end up intervening with a teasing comment. "Need a hand there?" he'd say, already reaching for whatever it was you needed, his voice laced with amusement. The playful eye-roll you'd give him in response always made him smile. You hated asking for help, but Scott had a way of doing things for you without making you feel any less capable.

- In situations outside of the house, Scott’s practical nature came out in full force. When the two of you walked together through the streets or even just around the mansion, his long legs would have him moving ahead of you without realizing. You’d have to give him a small tug on his hand or arm, reminding him to slow down. He’d always look back at you with a sheepish grin, apologizing before adjusting his pace to match yours. "I swear, I’m trying," he'd joke, though you both knew it was something that happened more often than not.

- One of the most entertaining aspects of your height difference came into play during missions. As the leader of the X-Men, Scott was often barking orders, planning out strategies, and making sure everyone was where they needed to be. But sometimes, in the heat of battle, he would forget just how much taller he was. During one mission, when things were particularly hectic, Scott lifted you onto a platform without even thinking, setting you down like it was the most natural thing in the world. You blinked, taken by surprise, but before you could even process what happened, he had already moved on to the next task. Later, when you teased him about it, he simply chuckled and said, "It was faster than finding a ladder, wasn’t it?"

- Scott’s attention to detail also extended to more intimate moments between the two of you. He loved the way you fit perfectly into his arms, how your head would rest just under his chin whenever he pulled you in for a hug. Sometimes, he’d even use your height difference to his advantage. When he wanted to get your attention, he’d playfully hold things just out of reach, grinning as you tried to grab them. "Scott, you are not funny," you’d say, half-laughing, half-exasperated, as you tried to snatch whatever it was from his hand. Of course, he'd eventually relent, but not before leaning down to steal a quick kiss in the process.

- Date nights were no exception to Scott’s awareness of your height. While he wasn’t the most overtly romantic person, he had a way of making small moments special. Whether it was adjusting the seat of your motorcycle so your feet could comfortably touch the ground or making sure you could see at the movies by booking the perfect seats, Scott was always thinking ahead. "I know you can handle things yourself," he’d say whenever you pointed out his thoughtfulness. "But why wouldn’t I make it easier if I can?"

- One of the funniest incidents between you and Scott happened when you tried to "help" him during a training session in the Danger Room. You had a lot of confidence in your abilities, and while you were certainly capable, you sometimes forgot that Scott’s strategy and precision were unmatched. As you attempted to hit a target, your shorter height meant you didn’t have the same reach, which led to some…interesting results. Scott had to stifle his laughter as your well-aimed kick just barely grazed the target’s edge. After the session, he couldn’t resist making a comment: "Next time, I’ll lower the target for you." You playfully shoved him, but the smile on his face was impossible to miss.

- Despite the teasing and the funny moments, Scott’s admiration for you never wavered. He loved how you handled everything with such grace and determination, never letting your height stop you from doing what needed to be done. In fact, he found it inspiring. Whenever he watched you overcome a challenge—whether it was in battle or simply reaching for something in the kitchen—he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. To him, your height wasn’t a limitation; it was just another part of you that made you unique.

- In quieter moments, Scott’s care for you shone through in more subtle ways. Sometimes, he’d notice you struggling to get comfortable on the couch, and without a word, he’d lift you up slightly to adjust the cushions or simply pull you closer to him. Other times, he’d offer his hand when you needed to climb over something, knowing you’d probably try to do it on your own, but also knowing that accepting his help didn’t make you any less strong. It was these small gestures that reminded you just how deeply Scott cared.

- At the end of the day, Scott dealt with your height the same way he dealt with everything else—with practicality, patience, and love. He knew you didn’t need him to constantly intervene, but he liked being there for you when you did. And in return, you appreciated the way he always made you feel seen, never belittling you but instead treating your differences as just another part of your relationship. Whether it was in the field or at home, Scott Summers found joy in the little things, and with you by his side, he knew that no challenge—no matter how tall—was too great to overcome together.

[missterious-figure]

In wine and scales au, how the boys flirt?? We know about the dewlaps already but, they try other ways to flirt??

Well, it really depends on context and what's happening at that moment. Sometimes the boys like to sing love songs for y/n or whisper sweet nothings into their ear. The boys also like to tease or physically torment them. Picking them up, hugging or cuddling them, or rubbing/pushing against them as the boys walk by(gently, of course. Kinda like a large dog would).

The boys also enjoy taking y/n for a quick dance...

...

A bead of sweat slithered it's way down your face as you finally finished your task. You had just screwed in a new light bulb for the last heat lamp that needed maintenance. It wasn't any normal heat lamp, though. It was quite large, bigger than any you had ever seen. Fitting for the reptile that it belonged to. You stepped down the ladder and folded it up before putting it away in a hidden compartment in the wall. You looked about the big room you had just finished cleaning and smiled proudly. This was none other then Eclipse's room, the largest of the Celestial Iguana Brothers. He was truly a sight to see. But, luckily, he was not here, as he had a show to finish up on his designated louge for designated patrons.

The very last thing you needed to do was refill his personal pond. It wasn't empty or anything, it just needed to be topped off real quick. Luckily, there was a retractable hose on the wall for easy access to water for things like this. You grabbed the nozzle, the body of the hose following, and dragged it to the edge of the water. You dropped it in, making your way back to the tap to turn it on. You watched as the hose began to make a current under the surface of the pond. You would have to wait a couple minutes, but that didn't bother you much. You had finished Sun and Moon's rooms before hand, and after this was done, you would be off for the rest of the night.

The creaking of the door snapped you from your thoughts. Standing in the door frame was Eclipse in all his impressive glory. Shoot! He must have finished early you thought as you braised yourself for the inevitable. As soon as his eyes landed on you, his face lit up. Not in a friendly innocent way. No, he had a smug smile and a flirtatious look in his eyes.

"Darling, how good it is to see you~"

You tried to hide your face best as you could as he approached you.

"H-hey, Eclipse."

It was the only thing you could bring yourself to stutter as your face heated uncontrollably. You dared not look up to meet his gaze, or even look at him, in case your eyes strayed too long on places they probably shouldn't. Eclipse was certainly and thoroughly amused by this. Suddenly, with one massive, gloved hand, he grabbed one of yours. With his free arm, he wrapped it around your lower back and squeezed you close to his body. He effortlessly lifted you from the ground. That's when you realized he had you in a waltz position. You tried to squirm free but it was no use.

"Aww~ Feeling shy today are we, little firework?"

You where now almost face to face with him. Nowhere to hide. And, with the choice of staring awkwardly into his chest or staring awkwardly at his face, you reluctantly turned your neck up, forcing your eyes to meet his. He chuckled teasingly, but also with a strange kind of warmth. Taking a step way from the wall, he began to sway. Then he started his dance, you having no choice but to tag along, your feet dangling below you. He waltzed around his slowly filling pond, occasionally twirling and dipping you to the non-existent rhythm of a some silent song. For such a huge, bulking creature, he was oh-so graceful. It seemed almost unreal and unnatural how smoothly his feet flowed across the ground. His tail followed behind him, like a ribbon blowing peacefully in the wind.

Round and round the pond the two of you went, Eclipse not missing a beat. As the dance progressed he began to hum. You could feel the deep vibrations shaking your whole being. He lazily flashed his dewlap at you as you as he continued his beautiful humming. At the climax of your dance (which felt like it had gone on for hours, though it had only been a couple minutes) Eclipse made a very low dip. His face was inching closer and closer to yours. He slowly closed his eyes and his lips began to pucker. Before you could properly process what was going on, he caught you in a tender kiss. You could barely breath as the sensation off his lips on yours made your brain fry. Finally, almost unvoluntarily, you kissed him back. You pulled your hand from his and hugged both arms around his neck, pushing your lips harder into his. Eclipse could now use both his arms to wrap around you, which he did.

For... who knows how long, it felt as if you were on fire... but in such a good way. You where becoming dizzy and dazed (maybe due to lack of oxygen). Eclipse could probably sense that you needed air, because a second or two later he pulled away from you. Opening your eyes, you were met by his warm gaze. He had to pry you from his neck before he could place you on the ground. You legs were a little wobbly, but nothing too bad. You were quickly able to regained your balance. Before standing to his full height he leaned in and whispered into your ear,

"Little firework, the hose."

It took you a bit to understand what he said. After standing there clueless for a bit, everything came back to you. You rushed to the tap and turned it off. You looked at pond. Good. It was right at the perfect amount. You turned back to Eclipse. He was laying on his sunbathing rock. It was as if nothing happened at all. You quietly made your way to the door. You twisted the handle. As you were walking out, you heard Eclipse call after you.

"Goodnight, darling."

You mumbled in response and shut the door without looking back at him. What... just... happened? You were so confused. You stood there leaning against the door, contemplating everything. Finally finding some energy to leave, you pushed yourself off the door. You walked down the hall on your way to clock out, knowing at least this much: your dreams were probably going to be wild tonight.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.7k | tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, soft boys, Steve takes care of Eddie, Vecna aftermath | @steddielovemonth Love is a warm hug by @unclewaynemunson | AO3)

They made it. They really did it.

Corroded Coffin play in front of thousands of people in a sold-out Madison Square Garden. Every single person seems to know their songs by heart and is singing them back at them loudly. They cheer and scream their names and Eddie feels like he's flying so high he's on his way to the moon.

This moment right now, right here, is what he has been dreaming of ever since Wayne gave him his old acoustic guitar for his fourteenth birthday and showed him how to play his first song. He always knew he'd end up here, deep, deep down. Never lost hope.

Well, that's not exactly true, but nobody knows that but Steve.

Because it was Steve who helped him to find that precious hope again, to rekindle the wild spirit inside him that only wanted to be heard with his music. He had almost lost that gift along with his left nipple.

The bat bites had been bad, of course. Pieces of his flesh were missing, gnarled scars littered his body, even as he decorated it with a plethora of new tattoos. They'll always be there.

But the worst part hadn't been the flesh wounds. It had been the infection. Robin hadn't been so far off in her fears back in the Upside Down, because while neither he nor Steve had gotten rabies, the bat's saliva hadn't been the most sterile substance to get into his wounds, and more than one bite had become infected as a result. The worst one had been on his left forearm and had caused some severe nerve damage.

The doctors had been able to save his arm and most of the feeling in his hand, but relearning how to play the guitar had been excruciating. The pain had been really bad, but even worse was the frustration, the white-hot rage he felt at this cosmic injustice. It wasn't enough that he was basically an orphan (because his father could be dead for all he knew, Eddie hadn't heard from him in years at that point), living in a trailer park and being labeled the town freak who everyone still thought had murdered several people. No, he also had to get mauled by demonic bats in an alternate dimension, nearly die, and fight his way back to his feet only to find out that he couldn't do the one thing that had always given him at least some peace of mind. His ticket out of this hellhole of a town, just gone. Poof.

It had been one of those summer days, so hot and humid that it felt like warm water was filling his lungs and dripping out of every pore of his body. He had been sitting on his bed in just his boxer shorts and a crop top because any clothes were too much, with his guitar on his lap. Eddie had been so focused on getting this one simple tune right for hours now, his fingers raw and aching, his nerves screaming at him to please stop. Only he couldn't.

He couldn't stop, because to stop would be to give up. It would mean accepting this new reality in which Eddie Munson had lost a vital part of himself; his music.

The pain had been almost unbearable for the better part of an hour by now, but it wasn't until his fingers cramped so badly that he couldn't even hold it anymore that he threw his beloved acoustic guitar off his lap and onto the floor with enough force that it was a wonder it didn't break.

"Fuck," he yelled with bitter resignation, rising like bile in his throat and spilling out in the form of hot tears from his burning eyes, and then "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," a repetitive mantra of pain and sorrow as sobs broke from his aching chest.

He was brought back from the brink of a meltdown by the pressure of a warm hand on his knee, another hand cupping his burning cheek.

"Eddie, hey, man, you're scaring me. Can you look at me, please?" Steve's voice filtered through the anger and grief that constricted his chest, and Eddie lifted his wet eyes to meet Steve's hazel ones. They were bright and warm, even with his eyebrows knitted with worry. They had become close friends over the past few months and Eddie could read his face like an open book.

"That's good, you're doing so good," Steve's voice soothed some of the ragged edges of the broken pieces that had once made up a whole person. His warm hands found Eddie's left hand, still bent into a misshapen claw, and began to massage it gently.

It felt heavenly, even if it still hurt, the gentle but firm pressure slowly loosening the tightly curled digits. Eddie's breathing had slowed, as had his heartbeat, and by the time Steve had finally stopped massaging of Eddie's hand, the sun had begun to set outside.

"Thanks," he had whispered, suddenly ashamed of his outburst, "you didn't have to do that." What he meant was, 'You shouldn't have had to do that. You shouldn't have had to see that.'

Still holding Eddie's hand loosely in his, Steve simply said, "I know. I wanted to. I always want to." The hazel eyes searched and held his again. "You want to tell me what happened? You don't have to, but I have it on good authority that I'm an excellent listener."

That had made him laugh. "That's only because Birdie speaks for both of you when she starts rambling."

"Takes one to know one," Steve had teased back, and the rest of the tension had seeped out of Eddie's body. He had told Steve everything then, about his hand, his fears, his shattered hopes and dreams. Steve hadn't lied, he was a great listener. Attentive and calm, he let Eddie talk without once interrupting.

After Eddie had finished, Steve had been quiet, clearly thinking about what Eddie had told him. After a while of comfortable silence, Steve finally broke it by asking, "Is it possible that you want it too much?"

"Huh?"

"To be able to play the guitar like you used to, I mean. I feel like maybe you want it so much that all the pressure you're putting on yourself is making you so tense and stressed that it's only getting worse."

Eddie wanted to protest, to tell Steve that there was no such thing as wanting too much, but then he stopped himself. Steve had proven himself to be far smarter and more insightful than anyone had ever given him credit for, so instead of denying the possibility outright, he had asked, "What makes you think that?"

Inexplicably, the question had made Steve smile. "When Nancy left me for Jonathan, I was kind of desperate. It sounds silly now, but I thought I needed to find a girl to help me get over it, to prove to myself that I was still attractive, still a catch. Still lovable." The smile had vanished from his face at those words. "I tried so hard, it wasn't even funny anymore, just kind of sad. Robin even had a whole board dedicated to my failures. She told me to just be myself, to let it come to me instead of chasing it like a dog after a bone. It was hard to hear at the time, but you know what? She was right."

Eddie only ever knew the Steve who never had any trouble picking up girls, so it was strange to hear him talk about a time when he clearly didn't.

"So all I'm saying is, maybe take it easy on yourself. Play for the same reasons you started, not because you want to recreate someone you no longer are. None of us is who we were before. None of us ever will be. But you can become someone new. It's up to you who you want to be instead."

After his little speech, Steve had gotten up to get them a couple of beers, and they had just hung out for the rest of the night, the guitar forgotten. It stayed in a corner of his room where Eddie wouldn't see it for a week, until Eddie felt a genuine desire to play something that had been stuck in his head whenever he thought of Steve.

It was the first tune he could get through on his guitar. It was the first song he ever played just for Steve, before he leaned in and caught Steve's lips in a soft kiss for the first time. It became the song he hums whenever Steve wakes up from a nightmare, either while holding Steve in his arms or over the phone when he's on tour.

So it's no surprise that this is the song they play as an encore at Madison fucking Square Garden.

"Hey everybody. This last song is for someone very special to me, so please let's hear it for the love of my fucking life". The crowd goes wild and Eddie winks at the camera that projects his face onto the big screens behind them. "This is for you sweetheart, thank you for always believing in me. You knew I could be someone new long before I did. I wouldn't be here without you and I don't want to be. Nothing makes sense without you. This song is called 'Someone New' and someday I want to play it at our wedding."

He gives it everything he's got, forgetting the last 90 minutes he's been on stage, to make these four minutes the most intense of their whole set. Everyone holds up a tiny flame with their lighters, and when they're done, there's a reverent silence before it breaks into thunderous applause. They cheer, they whistle, they scream.

Eddie doesn't hear any of it, his senses attuned to just one person he's spotted at the edge of the stage exit. He puts down his guitar, walks over to the tall man waiting for him with open arms, and sinks into them as if coming home.

"You did it, baby," Steve whispers into his ear and Eddie just buries himself deeper into his boyfriend's body. "I'm so, so proud of you."

"I love you," he replies simply, the only thing that matters with strong arms wrapped around him, the familiar scent of Steve filling his senses, and the steady beating of Steve's heart against his, the metronome of his new life as sure as ever.

It doesn't matter that they made it, not as much as the man holding him tightly, lovingly.

Eddie's new life is right here in his arms.

[nomoreusername]

Drunken Idiots

Pairing:Platonic Ivy Trio x gender neutral reader

Summary:When Newt, Thomas, and Minho drink more than intended, you end up taking care of your idiot friends again.

Newt is usually very responsible when he drinks. Minho is usually very sour looking. Thomas is usually annoying.

That's not a good combination. On its own, it’s a handful. Together? It's an everything full. No, seriously. Just when I figure out one issue, someone else has to bring up another.

Tonight would be no different. I had been aware of that from the beginning and had been internally prepping for it all day. Also, a little bit externally;making sure my hut didn't have anything for them to trip over, that I had enough blankets for some of them to collapse on the floor, and that everything sharp had been hidden away. We don't want another hair cutting incident.

Newt was five drinks in and was already out. He was holding his head in his hands as he grumbled under his breath about all these “buggin’ shanks that need to be quiet”. I know. How kind.

“You should probably leave then,”I suggested. At my words, he attempted to stand up. Already knowing what would happen, I caught him and hooked his arm around my shoulders as he almost stumbled to the ground.

“Thanks,”He slurred out.

“Yeah. No problem,”I said quietly so I didn't make it worse.

Completely leaning against me, he already seemed to be half dead. That's a good thing though. The sooner he's asleep, the sooner I can check on the other chaos causers.

This is an interesting trio to be a part of. That’s for sure.

“My head hurts,”He complained.

“I know. Maybe don't drink so much next time?”

“It was only one,”He insisted, stumbling over his own feet, almost sending us to the ground. Catching him just in time, I forced him upright again. Resting his head on my shoulder, he mumbled something incoherent. Choosing not to hear it, I opened my door with my knee and dragged him through it. Groaning something else I couldn't make out, he was already shutting his eyes.

Pulling him over, I lifted him up and placed him in my hammock. Essentially growing limp, he just stared at my ceiling as I tossed a blanket over him.

“Drink,”I ordered, handing him a bottle of water. Grabbing it from my hands, he started chugging it. When he finished he cuddled it to his chest and kept staring at my roof. “You have to shut you eyes to sleep,”I reminded him. The second he did he turned on his side and just started snoring. Good. One down, two to go.

Walking out, I left my door cracked. Heading back to the dying bonfire, I looked around at the few people up. Gally was glooming in the corner. Fry was just chattering away with a fully sober Chuck. Alby was standing there, making sure nothing got out of hand. Winston was pointing at the slaughterhouse and telling Jeff something. Zart was staring and picking at the grass, leaning over every now and then.

Finally, I found the two sitting on a log. Thomas was giving Minho the best side hug he was capable of as Minho glared at the fact that humans exist.

Deciding one at a time was the best answer, I approached them.

“Hey Thomas,”I greeted.

“Y/N,”He grinned, standing up. Catching him, I held back a sigh as he wrapped his arms around me. Cuddling his face into my neck, he insisted on standing there and hugging me.

“Come on. It's time for bed,”I instructed. Before he could argue, I picked him up bridal style. Letting out a “yay,” he put his arms around my neck and rested his face on my shoulder. “I love you,”He slurred out.

“I love you too,”I said back.

“But like a friend. You're my friend.”

“You're my friend too,”I echoed as he grabbed onto the back of my shirt to keep himself up. Letting him, I just opened my door with my foot.

Realizing I was about to let him go, he clung to me more.

“No,”He argued.

“I’ll be right back,”I assured him.

“No.”

“Thomas-”

“No, no, no,”He kept going.

“I’ll cuddle with you when I go to sleep?”I bargained.

“Yes,”He agreed, trying to throw himself out of my arms. Before he could, I held him while just dropping his legs. Kneeling down, I laid him on the ground and his head on the pillow. When it was the right spot, I sat him up and handed him a bottle.

“Yay. More drink,”He celebrated.

“Yes. More drink,”I nodded. If feeding his delusions is what gets water in his system, I’ll become Fry.

Taking big gulps, when he was done he tried to hold my hand.

“I have to get Minho first,”I explained, putting his head back on the pillow. As I threw a blanket over him he complained about Minho under his breath. Patting his head, I left him to vent to the air as I repeated the process. Walk out, crack the door, walk to Minho. As an added bonus, note that basically everyone else has gone to bed.

“Hey Minho,”I greeted. Scowling at the air, he didn't look my way. Already expecting that, I took a seat beside him. “Newt’s already out. You know how he is,”I started, planting that little seed in his head.

As he glanced at me, I knew it was working. Keeping my face neutral, I shrugged as I added something about him always being tired. While it wasn't at all true, he wasn't exactly in a state to think completely rationally. He was too busy hating everyone.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed too. What about you?”

Standing up, he answered for me as he just passed out. Catching him, I groaned at how much heavier he was than the other two. “Why do you have to be a Runner?”I complained, dragging him by his shoulders.

“Dunno,”He slurred. So he's not unconscious. Just a pain in my ass.

Giving a weak kick to my door, I opened it. Dragging him closest to Newt and furthest from Thomas, I laid him on the ground. Letting out a thankful sigh, I threw a blanket over him too.

“Minho?”Thomas asked excitedly as if he wasn't talking about how much he sucks less than ten minutes ago.

“No,”He said simply.

“Yes you are,”He insisted.

“Leave me alone,”He groaned.

“All of you shut up,”Newt jumped in.

“Newt? Hi Newt.”

“It's time for bed, Thomas,”I told him. Before he could argue, I curled between him and Minho. Instantly laying on top of me, he was more than content invading my personal space.

“Minho?”He asked, trying to reach for him.

“Leave me alone.”

“Minho.”

“It's time for bed,”I hushed. Nodding his head, he then was knocked out as if he hadn't been the most obnoxious thing. Figuring this was probably the best outcome, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he pretty much strangled me with a hug. In the meantime, the other two were out and snoring.

Yay. I just love my idiot friends.

“Thank you, Y/N,”Thomas mumbled. Patting his head, I hugged him back to tell him he was welcome.

Yeah. I do love my idiot friends.

[eli0004]

Hi. How do you think Attack on Titan characters sneeze? I think Levi sneezes like a kitten and it's so cute. It would be great to get your opinion in headcanon form! Thanks for the reply, sending hugs <3

Sure Anon! 🫶 This is honestly mostly comedic, and i had a lot of fun with it, sorry it’s so short, there’s only so much information i could come up with without accidentally being repetitive!

Summary: Brief headcannons about how the Aot Men Sneeze.

(Contains: Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Levi, Erwin)

Warnings: None

Lmk if i should do a part two with female/nb characters🫶🫶🫶

Eren Yeager sneezes aggressively. Like the kind of sneeze that is dramatically loud, and anyone standing near him just turns around like “🤨” He swears it’s involuntary tho, and that it just happens that way. Bro charges it up too, you can tell when it’s about to happen because he makes this goofy face and tilts his upper body back.

Jean Kirstein sneezes like he’s scared of people hearing. He keeps his mouth closed shut and he will bury his nose in his elbow so it’s almost inaudible. Everyone speculates that he only does this because he secretly sneezes like Eren.

Armin Arlert’s sneezes boyishly? If that makes sense. They aren’t squeaky, but they are higher in pitch, and they happen very quickly. Almost like it takes him by surprise. After, he just quickly wipes his lil nose and gets on with his day. His eyes water when he sneezes too so he’s always nervous that people will think he was crying.

Connie Springer sneezes rapid fire🤣. Once he starts, he just cannot stop them from coming. He’ll start trying to talk in between them and another one will cut him off and then he’s just laughing like an idiot, tears streaming down his face and everything.

Levi Ackerman does in fact have cute little kitten sneezes and it’s such a drastic difference from how you’d expect him to sneeze, just by looking at him. He also slightly lifts off his feet when he sneezes, like the sheer force of it is enough to catapult him from off the ground.

Erwin Smith sneezes stereotypically. Like he literally goes “Ha! Hah choo!” And then it’s over. He’ll follow it up with a little sniffle, then chuckle and say something corny like “goodness!” Afterwards he’ll just smile and continue whatever he was previously doing.

[obxone]

Pick the Right Guy

Edited-ish. ~3.5k words.

This is my first Topper story (and he is not my favorite), so please be gentle with me.

Warning: SMUT (do not engage if you are underage!)

Taglist: @gillybear17

The rain is coming down in thick sheets from the summer thunderstorm that is tearing across the island. You are already soaked to the bone, but it also works as a disguise for your tears. A chill crawls across your skin, and you hug yourself as you sniffle. The trek back to Figure 8 is more than you had initially thought. The storm had moved in after ten minutes of walking. But you do not have your car, and your phone is dead, so calling your sister or even your brother is out of the question. And you refuse to go back to the Chateau. 

You squeeze your eyes shut against the image of your boyfriend kissing your best friend that is now seared into your mind. The profuse apologies and begging from both had not helped the sting of their make-out session. When his hands held you, trying to keep you there with him it had been too much. His touch used to make your heart race, but now it only makes your stomach churn. You shudder, opening your eyes and nearly jumping out of your skin. 

“What are you doing out here, y/n?!” Topper stares at you from the rolled-down window of his jeep. “This is a tropical storm!”

You look away, lips parting as a thick sheet of cold rain slams into you. “I don’t know.”

“What?!” He yells over the wind. 

“I don’t know, Top!”

He exhales, shaking his head. “You Cameron girls are something else.”

You stay silent, looking at the road head, and he does the same. Neither of you can barely see twenty feet in front of you. Topper had almost driven by you until the bright color of your summer top caught his attention in the middle of the road.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m walking.”

He shakes his head. “There are nine more miles until Figure 8. Eleven to Tanneyhill!”

“I know!”

“What are you doing out here?” He tries again. You shake your head, looking away, and tears well in your eyes again as you think about what you witnessed—an ache and some rage filling you. 

“Top, you should go.”

“I can’t just leave you here!”

You turn back to him. Annoyance with not being left alone how you wanted rushes through your body, and you glare at him. “I’ll be fine!”

“No!” He parks the jeep before starting to open his door. 

You turn away, resuming the walk back to Figure 8 before he can get close enough. “Go home, Topper!”

“Not without you!” He yells, and you can hear him jogging to catch up with you. “Are you crazy? You can’t stay out here!”

“I can!” You yell over your shoulder, pausing to see how close he is. His white linen button-down is soaked and painted to his skin. “Topper! You’re getting soaked.”

“I don’t care.”

You huff and look away. “I’m not worth it!”

He scoffs, pushing his soaked hair back off his forehead before reaching for you. “Where is Sarah?! Or even Rafe?!”

You shrug, silent, hands tightened into fists by your side. Of course, Topper is true to his nature and refuses to leave you out here alone in the storm. The good guy he strives so hard to be is not allowing him to walk away like you want. 

“I can’t believe you are out here.”

Again, you stay silent, looking down at your feet. Your sneakers are soaked and muddy. 

“Get in the car, y/n. Please!”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

You lift your head, tears welling in your eyes. “No. I want to be alone. I need to be alone.”

“You are going to hurt out here if I leave you.”

You straighten your shoulders and lift your chin. “So? Would it really be that bad?”

Topper’s lips part in shock, and his hands reach out for you. "What the hell happened, y/n?"

“No, don’t.” You take a step away from him, shaking your head.

“I’m not leaving you out here!” He crowds you. His hand clasps your arm before you can run away from him. “What the hell happened to you?”

You try to tug free, fighting his grip on your arm, and you cry full force again. “Let me go, Top! Let me go!”

“What happened?!” He snaps, pulling you into his chest. He is much stronger than you anticipated as you collide with him. The warmth of his body seeps into our soaked clothes immediately. “Talk to me.”

You sniffle, burying your head in his chest, and he holds you. His hand strokes your back as the other cups the back of your head. You should not be doing this. You should not be in the arms of your sister's ex-boyfriend. 

“JJ cheated on me.”

“What?”

You sob quietly, the image flashing through your mind again. When you do not lift your head to look at him, he continues to cradle you against him. “He was…” You hiccup, trying to hide your face further into his chest. Your hands fist his shirt, clinging to him like the rain will wash you away any second. “He was kissing Kiara.”

“Fuck,” Topper grumbles, squeezing you tighter in his arms. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Both of you stay like that for a moment. Thunder booms overhead shortly after a strike of lightning illuminates the road. After you flinch, you push closer to him. 

“And he just let you leave?!” He spits with venom. You shiver when his head drops, his face pressing to yours. His lips brush the shell of your ear. “I know we aren’t exactly friends anymore, but please come get in the jeep. It’s warm and dry.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to go home.”

“We don’t have to. We can go somewhere else, somewhere safe.”

You toss the idea around in your head, thinking about whether it is a good idea to trust him. But he is your best bet to get out of the storm and regain some semblance of composure after having your heart shattered. You whisper your agreement, lifting your head to look up at him. He loosens his arms, clasping your hands in his. 

“Okay, come on.”

You jog back to the jeep with him, and he opens the door helping you in before getting into the driver’s seat. Topper shakes his head, water droplets flying everywhere, and you shield yourself from the droplets with a laugh.

“I have a towel from surfing earlier back there. It’s not clean, but it’s dry.” He reaches behind your seat to pull a beach towel forward and hands it to you. “I have a shirt too.”

You smile weakly, taking the towel. “The towel is fine. You should wear the shirt.”

He mumbles his disagreement, saying that you are shivering, but grabs the cotton shirt that has one of his surf sponsors stamped on the back. 

"Why didn't you call someone?" He asks while you focus on drying your hair.

"My phone died while I was with JJ."

He pauses, looking at you after he has pulled his soaked shirt off. You look away, cheeks heating, and try to focus on patting the water off your face and arms. His linen shirt is discarded in the back as he tries to find the armholes of the t-shirt.

"I could knock his lights out for what he has done." He basically growls. "First, he cheats on you, and then he leaves you to walk home alone in this storm. Fucking asshole, man."

"I'm okay now, Top."

He looks over, not missing the change in your tone, and catches you staring again. You clear your throat, looking away with your cheeks heating once more. 

“Better?” He asks after his shirt is in place. 

You thank your stars that he is not pointing out your red cheeks or that you were checking him out. You nod, humming your approval. 

The jeep rolls forward, and you buckle up before looking out the window on your side. The storm is just starting and will only grow nastier as the night continues. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Not home.”

“Plug your phone in, please,” he mutters, rubbing his hand over his lips. “I’m sure your family is worried sick.”

“Doubt it.”

He snorts. “Right? The perfect oldest Cameron daughter.”

"I'm nowhere near perfect."

"Then why are you everyone's favorite?" He glances over, flexing his grip on the steering wheel. "Everyone in your family, including Rafe, has never said a bad thing about you. Sarah would lose her shit if she knew you were out here right now." 

You frown, looking down at your hands. “We don’t have to talk about her, you know.”

He is quiet for the longest before he reaches over. His fingers brush your palm before squeezing your hand once and letting go. “We don’t have to talk about JJ either.”

You smile gratefully. 

“Since nothing is going to be open during this storm, do you want to go to my house?” He asks, glancing over at you before looking back at the road. “Uh. Maybe… M-maybe watch a movie? You can sleep in my bed tonight if you don’t want to go home at all.”

You are quiet, turning over his suggestion before looking over at him. “Where will you sleep?”

“The floor or downstairs on the couch.”

You nod before exhaling and attempting a smile. “Sure. A movie sounds nice. A distraction.”

"We have plenty of junk food to snack on too." Topper grins while focusing on the drive back to Figure 8. It takes longer than usual with the storm, and you both stay quiet, watching for any road hazards. As soon as he parks the jeep in the garage, you feel the tension leave your body.

“Top?”

He looks over at you, pausing from unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Thank you,” you murmur before leaning over to peck his cheek.

His cheeks warm at the press of your lips on his skin, and he unbuckles before coming around to you. He helps you out, his fingers slide through the spaces of yours as you both go inside. You discard your ruined sneakers in the garage to keep from tracking mud on the hardwood floors. He glances back at you once the door into the house shuts behind you. 

“Are you nervous?” He asks when your fingers squeeze his. 

You nod, laughing lightly. “I don’t know why.”

He smiles before leading you up the stairs and to his bedroom. The house is silent and empty, mostly dark and you cling tightly to his hand. 

“Dry clothes and then a movie? Maybe some snacks. I’m sure you are hungry after walking through all that…”

You bite your lip as you move past him and into his room. Your attention shifts around the room, noting the surfing trophies and gear scattered around. 

He disappears into his closet for a few moments before returning with a small stack of dry clothing. “Do you want a shower? Warm up a little bit?”

You glance at his bathroom and then back at him.

“I have plenty of towels and stuff…”

You smile, crossing to him and taking the clothes he offers. “I’m not worried about towels, Top.”

He frowns, his hand brushing your hair back from your face. His touch is gentle and soothing. “Then what?”

Your heart rate spikes, and you breathe deeply before stepping away from him. “You’re being so kind to me after everything my sister has done to you.” You try to change the subject, spilling your thoughts about a different aspect of your situation. “I probably looked like a drowned rat out on the street. You could have just driven by, but you didn’t.”

“I never would.”

You smile a little. “You are too kind; you know that right?”

He moves closer to you, crowding your space. “And you deserve better than what that pogue has given you.”

You look away, tears collecting at the thought of your boyfriend cheating. Ex-boyfriend now. But Topper’s finger hooks up your chin, and he turns your face to his. 

“You deserve the world, y/n.”

You blush, body warming at his words. “Too bad I picked the wrong guy.”

Topper frowns, not liking your words. “You could always pick the right guy. This time around.”

“I don’t know if he exists anymore.”

“Don’t say that.”

You inhale sharply, feeling the shift in both him and you. “Top…”

He exhales before his face lowers, and his lips brush yours before he leans back. “I didn’t pick the right girl either.”

Your cheeks flame and you look down at your feet. You understand the hidden meaning in his words and it makes you feel like a terrible sister. 

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Don’t say anything. Go get a warm shower, change, and we’ll watch a movie before bed.”

You smile before taking a step back. “See you in a minute?”

“Take your time.”

You disappear into his bathroom. Before you shut the door, you look at him one last time, offering a small blushing smile. He watches you, a small smile playing on his lips. 

After you both settle in the comfortable depths of his bed and the movie is playing, you feel his attention shift onto you off and on until you meet his gaze head-on. 

“Topper? Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You ask and shift deeper into his pillows. “Because you are missing a lot of the movie.”

He blushes and looks down at his lap. “About earlier…”

“Don’t,” you say quickly, placing your hand over his mouth. “Don’t apologize. I get it. I am the damsel in distress and we are in a peculiar situation. So, don't apologize ”

He reaches up and gently moves your hand from his mouth to the side of his face. Your palm is warm on his cheek. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Oh.”

He shifts closer to you. His lips brush the inside of your wrist. “I was going to ask to do it again.”

You swallow and look at him with wide eyes. “Why?”

He grins before he moves the last few inches closer. His breath fanning over your face. “Can I?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, and your hand drops to his shoulder, squeezing. It is an attempt to make sure this moment is real, and he is real for sitting here, asking this question. “Yes.”

His lips press to yours, and you hum, touching the back of his neck as you shift closer to him. The tip of his tongue teases your bottom lip, and you let him deepen the kiss. 

Slowly you move on to straddle him. The kissing grows intense until you pull away to steady yourself. You close your eyes, resting your forehead against his. 

“What are we doing Top?”

His fingers brush your waist under the shirt you have borrowed. He is running through this in his head, and you know you should probably move off him and firmly set boundaries back in place, but you cannot. Not after everything that has happened tonight. 

“This… feeling,” you murmur against his lips. “I’ve never felt this with anyone… not even JJ.”

“Me either.”

“I think I want to keep doing this,” you murmur, fingertips brushing his lips. “I like the way you look at me and treat me. I like you, Top.”

He smiles, cupping your face before pecking your lips. “I like you too.”

You kiss him again, melting into him. Hands tremble as you grasp the hem of his t-shirt and slowly ease it up his torso. He ends the kiss and lets you remove it from him before you toss it away. His toned and tanned upper body is on display. You trace lines across his pecs before pecking his lips. 

“I don’t think I want to stop,” you whisper, swallowing your nerves. “Do you?”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs before nudging your nose with his. “This is the first time in weeks, I’m not questioning everything.”

You kiss him, looping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your chest against his. “No more stopping this. I want to feel everything with you tonight.”

“Are you sure?” He pants. His chest rises and falls harshly against yours. His swollen lips brush your cheek. “We don’t have to. I didn't bring you here for this.”

“I want to,” you whisper back. 

Your lips brush his. He chases you, kissing you, and his hands move around to unbutton the borrowed shirt you are wearing. The buttons unfasten with ease, revealing you are braless and covered in goosebumps. You shiver, pressing closer to his naked torso. The feel of his naked upper body against yours has you sighing into his mouth. Topper’s large hand cups your breast, squeezing while his tongue explores your mouth. A needy moan falls from your lips. When he is satisfied, his hand skims down your stomach to the band of your shorts, his fingers working to pull the knot you have tied to keep them up around your hips. 

His strength plays in your favor when he helps you remove your shorts with ease. Your body barely leaves his. A giggle escapes from you, and your hand skims down his upper arm, touching the thick bands of muscles. He is fit from all the surfing and working out with your brother and Kelce. You tip your face to the side, allowing his lips to attach to your neck, and you work on untying his shorts. 

Topper shifts, laying you down before sitting on his knees between your thighs while he reaches for his nightstand drawer. After he digs for a moment, his attention shifts to your face, and you see the black foil between his fingers. His blue eyes lock on yours for reassurance before you take this further. 

You nod, biting your lip before reaching for him. He falls into you willingly. Mouths meshing, and you slide your hands over his shoulders and down his back to waist. You moan his name, and he works to remove your underwear before his shorts and underwear follow. Watching him roll the condom on has your heart racing and your stomach doing flips.

Topper’s gaze flashes up to yours, and you squeeze your eyes shut when he drags his tip across your dripping center. You gasp, hand pressing into the mattress at the feel of him teasing you. He watches you, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he guides himself into you.

“Topper!” You gasp, reaching for him, and he comes willingly into you. His skin searing hot against yours. Every inch of you that can touch is now touching.

“Y/n,” he pants your name over and over with each roll of his hips. 

His hand grips your thigh after you hook your leg over his hip. The harsh press of his fingertips into your skin grounds you, and you moan into his mouth while both of you move together. It feels like it is meant to be, both of you are meant to be together in this moment and doing exactly this. 

Your hand finds his hands, and your fingers interlace against the mattress. He grips your hand tighter with each thrust. Your other hand brushes across the width of his shoulders. He shudders on top of you when your nails scratch at him and twist into the hair at the back of his head. He kisses you desperately, drinking down every sound of pleasure you make, and you do the same. Both of you do your best to stay quiet even though the storm outside would likely hide any noises you make from anyone else home tonight. You stay close to him, feeling as much of him as you can until you both lose yourself in one another. The waves of pleasure wash over you both. His face nuzzles into your neck when your movements slow to a halt.  

The moments after are better than you anticipated, you expect awkwardness, and maybe some mumbled apology from him, but instead, he cradles you against his chest. His lips brush your temple, and your hand touches his hands, tracing the lines in his palm.  

“Will you still stay?” He asks, his fingertips skating down your spine. “Stay tonight, okay?”

You nod, closing your eyes against the storm raging both outside the Thornton home and inside of you. He watches you. You can feel the familiar burn of his stare. 

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” you murmur, opening your eyes and tipping your face to look at him. “If anything, I’m questioning why we have never… considered one another before.”

He smiles before kissing you. You slip up his chest and cradle his face in your palms. When the kiss ends, his nose brushes yours before he pecks your lips. His palms are warm and gentle as he strokes your back. 

“Are we together?” You whisper against his lips. “Is this more than a hookup?”

Topper smiles, his eyes lightening as he cradles the back of your head. “Do you want to be with me, y/n?”

You blush before nodding. “I do.”

He sits up, arms wrapping around you to cradle you against his chest. “Will you, y/n Cameron, be my girlfriend officially?”

You laugh at his cheesy nature before pecking his lips. “Yes.”

------

Do we need a part two?

[adore-laur]

SOUTHPAW

— a heartwarming friends to lovers story set in the 90’s 🌴

——

ORLANDO, 1991

The city calls him Southpaw, a sobriquet graciously granted to the left-handed pitcher who has won every game for the Orlando SunRays at Tinker Field.

Harry Styles is the praised name behind it all. The tall, curly-headed boy is swiftly on his way to stardom. He's an undeniable force to be reckoned with, built with strong arms that can throw curveballs and fastballs with lightning speed. The twenty-five-year-old is the backbone of his team, the best in the Southern League, and the player who makes the others green with envy. He impressively balances the substantial titles while remaining charismatic and altruistic toward everyone he encounters. 

When he's not found in the ballpark wearing his usual blue and white baseball uniform, a cap sits atop his head, paired with tan skin that seems to have a new ink design each time he's spotted by an onlooker.

Then there's Sawyer Clemente. Well, she knows for sure that she isn't quite as commendable as her best friend. Standing just a smidge over five feet, she could never amount to his accomplishments or role model status. To put it plainly, she's unemployed, lives with her parents, and has an ex-boyfriend that she hates because she just found out he cheated on her last night. 

She's merely Harry's closest companion, rooting for him in the bleachers even if she thinks baseball is a painfully dull sport that only inflates the male ego and makes her sweat in the merciless Florida heat.

She also has a plaguing crush on him but doesn't like to dwell on that matter too much. 

It almost seems punishing not to, though, because he's naturally flirtatious. It's impossible not to think about his innocent yet butterfly-inducing touches. To tell where his feelings for her lie, whenever he hugs her tightly after a successful game or looks down at her lips while she rambles about her day, proves to be even more unfeasible. 

Sawyer glumly watches the semifinal game, veering her troublesome thoughts away by appreciating Harry's legs in his form-fitting baseball pants. Nothing else seems to be working, so she borderline objectifies him while he chews his Bazooka bubblegum in concentration. 

She debated not attending because of the cheating revelation unmasked to her hours earlier, but she would never forgive herself if she missed such an important game for Harry. It determines whether the Sun Rays will compete for the highly illustrious minor league title. 

It's now the start of the seventh inning, and it's about the hundredth time she has caught Harry's eye, finding her in the crowd with a solicitous gaze and a frown on his lips. Her tense body language and absent-minded expression must indicate her mood. She absolutely despises how well he knows her. 

Harry focuses back on the game as he gets into position on the pitching mound, ball in hand, an undaunted mystique exuding from him. With unkempt curls framing his face, a smear of dirt on his cheek that was kicked up from his teammates sprinting to the bases, and his jaw contracting with each gum smack, he finally lifts one leg and throws the ball so fast it could be missed if someone were to blink. The crack of the bat reverberates throughout the stadium, and Sawyer sees Harry glance up to find her again. 

Then, every player's worst nightmare happens. Sawyer's worst nightmare happens. 

A cry of agonizing pain echoes loud and clear. Sawyer is up out of her seat instantly, her hands slapping over her mouth as she watches Harry double over and hold his wrist, his baseball mitt tossed to the side. His teeth are gritted, and his knees are bent as he rocks back and forth on the ground. Players hurriedly signal for the medics as whispers from fans in the audience mix with panicked yelling coming from the field. All of it is in the background of Sawyer's mind since the only thing she can focus on is Harry. He's in so much pain, and it brings terror-stricken tears to her eyes as he cries out again when his coach jogs over to him and tries to touch his wrist. 

Everything escalated so rapidly. Sawyer doesn't know what happened, and she's petrified because she's never seen her best friend in such an excruciating condition before. The only injuries she'd seen him suffer through were a harmless twisted ankle and the sporadic cramp in his hand. 

The medics cautiously escort Harry into the dugout. Sawyer doesn't hesitate to follow them. She can't just wait it out; there's a dire need in her to take care of him. She shuffles past people and quickly walks down the wide stairs toward the dugout, where his team is gathered. Some have their arms over their heads. Some are crouched with uneasy expressions. 

Sawyer goes to where she's seen the medics stand by during previous games. One of them, wearing a red vest, immediately lifts their hand to stop her. "Ma'am, fans are not allowed back here," she informs, her calm tone doing nothing to mitigate Sawyer's pounding heart. "Please return to your seat." 

"I can't! H-Harry," she stammers, standing on her tiptoes to try to locate him. "Harry Styles is my friend. Where's his coach? He'll recognize me. Please just let me see him." 

The medic sighs and calls behind her, "Someone tell Gardenhire I'm letting a girl in! Tell him she's Southpaw's friend!" 

Sawyer almost collapses with relief. "Thank you so much, miss. I owe you my life. Um, where do I go?" 

"Go straight ahead and take a left." She points and guides her in the correct direction. "Don't get too close. Let everyone do their job." 

As Sawyer runs to the medical tent, she can hear Harry's muffled groans and heavy breathing get louder. She puts a hand on her chest as his coach notices her and silently ushers her in. 

"Get her out," Harry says from his place on the stretcher. "Sawyer, leave. Damnit, someone take her!”

His voice grows weaker as his pain worsens. Sawyer only gets closer. 

"It looks like the ball hit and fractured his hamate bone in his left hand," explains a medic over the commotion. "It's swelling pretty fast, so surgery will be required as soon as possible. He won't be able to play for a while." 

Harry's eyes are pinched shut as they poke and prod his skin. Sawyer's heart sinks when she notices the pain etched on his face, a face that's usually so radiant and lit up with a smile. Her feet are frozen as she watches people surround him with bandages and ice packs. His body is stiff, and he's breathing shakily through his nose. When his eyes open, he reaches out his uninjured hand. Sawyer knows he would never want her to leave when he's hurting. He would never leave her side if the roles were reversed right now.

"Come here," he says scratchily. "It's okay. I'm fine." 

"Harry, no, you're not!" she exclaims, running her hands through her hair as her bottom lip wobbles. "God, why did you keep looking at me? Why weren't you paying attention out there?" 

"Hey, hey, hey," he whispers, gripping her hand and tugging her toward him. "Less of that, please. You looked like something was bothering you. Tell me." 

Sawyer stomps her foot and groans in frustration. He's too selfless! He's on the verge of tears but is concerned about her instead. 

"Don't worry about me right now. I'll tell you later, okay? You need to go to the hospital." 

Harry squeezes her small hand with his large one. "Is it about your boyfriend?" 

She sighs sharply. Again, she despises how well he knows her. A reply doesn't come, though, because an ambulance suddenly pulls up, the back doors opening as the sirens shriek. The medics help Harry sit up, and Sawyer doesn't let go of his hand the entire way to the vehicle. 

"Go home," he says once he's sat on the edge. "Just go home and run a bath or something. I want you away from here." 

Her wide, brown eyes dart back and forth between his. "At least let me ride to the hospital with you." 

"Sawyer, no. Listen to me." He cradles her tear-streaked cheek and roughly kisses the opposite one. "Listen, please. I'll feel better knowing you're safe at home." 

She would do anything to relieve his worry, so she nods her head with a sad sniffle. "Okay." 

"Don't cry over me." He winces with an uncomfortable groan when the ice pack slides off his wrist. Sawyer picks it up and gently returns it to his bruised, swollen skin. "I'm alive. It's not like I'm dying." 

"That's not funny," she scolds, crossing her arms. "But I'll go home now. You're in pain, so I'm not going to keep you any longer. They'll take you to the hospital, fix you, and everything will be fine." She's convincing Harry, but more so herself. 

"Correct," he says with a smirk. 

"Correct," she repeats while standing. "Keep me updated." 

"I will, Sawyer. Drive safe." He swings his feet like a child and scrunches his nose. "Tell your parents I say hi... with a broken wrist."

She smiles fondly and reluctantly leaves with a ruffle to his sweaty hair, glancing back on her way out to witness the ambulance doors shut with a bang. On her way home, she calls her mother and asks if she could start running a bath for her. She plans on sinking down in the warm water and praying to whatever higher power that Harry will be okay. 

Praying his sunrays won't dim. 

——

Tinker Field is empty when Sawyer arrives in the early afternoon. Harry is there, throwing a baseball up and down with his right hand, just like she assumed. A new accessory adorns his left one—a bandage wrapped around his wrist from the surgery he underwent. He looks incredibly gorgeous in his purple corduroy pants and fitted white T-shirt. The bandana tied around his neck is a nice touch, along with his lucky yellow sunglasses that glimmer under the open sky. And to no one's surprise, his recycled denim cap is peeking out of his pocket. 

"Hey, sunray," Sawyer says with a hand shielding her eyes. It's what she's called him ever since they became friends. Not only does he play for the Sun Rays, but she thinks he's a ray of sunshine himself. 

Harry saunters to her, chewing gum and skillfully spinning the ball with his hand. "How did you know I'd be here, shortstop?" 

"Where else would you be? Also, I give you a cute nickname, and all you give me is one that pokes fun at my height? That's not fair." 

"Don't care. Hug me, please." He pouts dramatically. "I have a boo-boo." 

"You have a broken wrist, Harry; I'd hardly call that a boo-boo." Sawyer snatches the stitched ball from his grasp. "No more. You're supposed to be resting." 

"You sound like my mother." He tries to grab it, but she holds it behind her back. "I'm not even moving my hand that much." 

"How was the surgery?"

He shrugs and circles around her to try to sneakily pluck the ball. "Dunno. They knocked me out real good. The nurses told me everything went well and sent me home the next day." 

Sawyer skips over to home plate and sits. Harry plops down beside her. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit. You know my parents don't like the hospital being in a dodgy part of the city." 

He nudges her. "It's all right. I still received the flowers you sent. Since you're here now, I expect you to tell me what was going on during the game." 

Sighing, Sawyer forms circular shapes in the dirt using the baseball. "You were right; it was about my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. My friend saw him making out with another girl at a bar last night. You know what's crazy? I asked him if he wanted to come to the game with me, but he said he had to work early. I guess he lied to avoid seeing me." 

Harry lets out a disappointed hum, then cracks his neck. "Mind if I leave right now and practice my screwball pitch on him?" 

"Please don't do that," she says with a wary laugh. She knows he's getting pissed. "Trust me, he's not worth it." 

"Yeah, but you are," he replies while fixing the folded cuff of her sleeve. "I'd do it in a heartbeat if my wrist wasn't fucked up." 

Sawyer smiles at his generosity. "Not necessary. He was a jerk, and we were only together for two months. Let's talk about something else." 

Harry tilts his head toward the sky, and Sawyer admires him for a bit. She notices his baby hair, which is sun-bleached from hours spent outside, the stubble that grows along his jaw and above his lips, the mole adjacent to his mouth that he's insecure about, and his sloped nose splattered with faint freckles that she wishes she could kiss. 

Her sublime sunray. 

Harry clears his throat and leans into her. Sawyer loves it when he leans into her. "I think I'm going to go tomorrow." 

"To South Carolina?" 

"Yeah. Even if I can't play, I still want to support the team. The flight leaves tomorrow morning." 

"Oh," she says quietly, picking at some overgrown weeds. "That's... really soon." 

He nods and scooches closer. "You could come with me and keep me company. We can watch The Golden Girls together. You can cut up my massive pain pills and put them in food for me because I'm a big baby. You know, friend shit." 

"Harry, I can't," Sawyer says hesitantly.

He tuts. "Why not?" 

"Um, I actually have a job interview scheduled for tomorrow. About time, right?" She laughs, but it quickly dies when he stares at her with a serious expression. "Don't look at me like that." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

She squints as the sun peeks over the nosebleed seats. "I just did." 

"No, before that," he says, taking off his sunglasses and setting them on the bridge of her nose. "When did you get the call?"

"It was right before you got hurt." She crosses her ankles and shakes her head. "I guess I forgot to tell you since I was so worried about your surgery." 

Harry hums understandingly. "Well, what's the job?" 

"Office clerk. It's lame, I know. I'll probably be printing and typing stuff all day." 

"That's not lame. It's a job; we all need one." 

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but you travel the country and play professional baseball. It's nowhere near the same level of cool." 

"And look where that got me," he mutters. "I can't even play for three months." 

Sawyer doesn't say anything as Harry picks up her leg and sets it over his. He unties the bandana around his neck and uses it to clean the dirt off her white sneakers. His bottom lip is cutely jutted out as he carefully scrubs with his right hand while the other lays limp beside her. 

After a few beats of silence, he asks, "Will you have time to say goodbye to me at the airport?" 

"Of course." She knocks her foot against his shin. "My interview isn't until the afternoon." 

"Kay," he says with a shy, dimpled smile. He ties the bandana around her thigh and pats it. "By the way, you still haven't hugged me."

Sawyer grins and bends down in her sitting position to wrap her arms around his torso, her face squishing against his soft stomach. He gives her a noogie before setting his arms around her shoulders. For the next hour, they watch robins and sparrows swoop throughout the ballpark, the sun beating down on the field as they talk about anything and everything. 

They melt deeper into each other until it's time to leave. 

—— 

Suitcases roll on terrazzo flooring, and voices boom through public announcement systems as Sawyer walks behind Harry at Orlando International Airport. 

She can't stop staring at his back. His white T-shirt is way too tight on his buff body, but she can't complain. His yellow sunglasses are on his face again, partly to hide his tired eyes and partly because those same eyes are puffy from crying. His coach told Sawyer that the healing stage after surgery is the most painful part. On the way to the airport, Harry had slumped next to her on the charter bus, and she could tell how exhausted he was from how he immediately fell asleep on her shoulder before they even started moving. 

Now, they walk toward the correct terminal to wait for the team's flight to be called. Harry holds his suitcase and duffel bag stuffed with all the uniforms in his right hand, while the other is still bandaged and basically useless. Sawyer occasionally sees him flex it uncomfortably, the veins and muscles protruding against the exposed skin rather attractively. 

She catches up to his long strides and gently grabs his forearm. "You need to let it rest. Stop moving it." 

He swallows harshly before shoving it into his pocket. "It hurts," he says, his voice laced with an undertone of strain. 

"I know," she whispers sadly, squeezing his bicep. "Your pain meds should be kicking in soon." 

They eventually arrive at the terminal, where people are bustling around to get to their designated boarding gates. The blinding sunrise pours through the large airport windows. As the team gets in line, Sawyer stays behind and watches Harry drop his luggage before standing in front of her. 

"Bye, sunray." She frowns sympathetically at his dog-tired expression. "Have a safe trip. I hope you guys win." 

Harry gives her a weak smile. "Thanks, shortstop. Good luck with your interview. Make me proud, okay?"

"Can I hug you?" she asks. Harry immediately opens his arms and winces when his wrist moves. She still hesitates. "Are you in too much pain right now? I don't want to hurt you." 

"You'll hurt me mentally if you don't give me a hug," he replies while jerking his head, this time with a genuine smile on his face. "Get over here." 

Shuffling toward him, she closes the distance. He hugs her with one strong arm around her neck, pulling her in and swaying her as the woman over the speaker announces that his team's flight is boarding. 

Harry nuzzles his nose against her head and hovers his mouth next to her ear. "I'll call you as often as possible. Please don't worry yourself sick, okay? I'm in good hands."

Sawyer nods against his firm chest, matching her breathing with his. She'll always worry, but she won't tell him that. "I love you," she mumbles when the final boarding announcement chimes. 

It's not uncommon for her and Harry to exchange those words, but this time, she wants them to mean something different. She wants to love him, not just as a friend. She wants to kiss his pretty lips. She wants to romantically hold his hand. She wants to feel his warm body press against hers at night. He could offer all those things, and she can't wrap her head around what's stopping them. 

Even if a nagging fear deep inside her is confident that it would ruin everything, why can't he just give her a sign? 

—— 

The ringtone of Harry's Nokia phone blares at maximum volume, rudely cutting his nap short. He covers his ears with a pillow and grumbles about how he just got off a three-hour flight. After contemplating, he slowly sits up and reaches for the nightstand to answer whoever’s calling. 

He checks the number displayed on the screen while rubbing his bleary eyes—it's Sawyer. His annoyance immediately dissipates, and he giddily rolls over to hide his smile in the mattress before hopping out of bed. He opens the sliding door that leads to his hotel room’s balcony and holds the device to his ear.

"'Ello?" Harry answers, his voice cracking with sleepiness. 

"Hi," Sawyer says breathily on the other line. 

He stares at the midafternoon sky and scratches his stomach through his pink sleep shirt. "Hey. How are you?" 

"Doesn't matter. How are you? Are you in Charleston yet?" Based on her rushed tone, she seems a bit jittery.

"I'm good," he replies with a trace of confusion. He can hear her fidgeting, and it's piquing his curiosity. "Um... I'm on a balcony." 

"Oh, that's nice," she says. "Really nice. Balconies are great." 

Harry smirks and starts pacing, staring at the ivy climbing the exterior walls. He loves it when he makes her nervous. "Mm-hmm. Yeah, for sure." 

"So, how's it going? Is your wrist—" 

"Hey," he interrupts gently. "What's up? I can practically hear you biting your nails." 

Sawyer huffs. "I have to tell you something. It's not bad; I promise. I just didn't want to make everything about me." 

"Don't go there with me, Sawyer." He yawns, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear before rewrapping his wrist bandage. "Lay it on me." 

"Well," she says timidly, "I had that job interview not too long ago." 

He nods to himself. "I remember." 

"And they hired me on the spot. I can't believe it, Harry. I got the job!”

Harry stops in his tracks. "No way," he says with a growing smile. "Really? Actually, of course you got it. I knew you would."

Sawyer releases sweet laughter, and Harry closes his eyes to imagine how she looks. Is she all cozy in bed in her silk pajamas? Is she pacing around her room while twirling the coiled phone cord around her finger? Is she watching The Golden Girls on TV and wishing he was beside her? God, he misses her already.

"They said I can start next week. It's only a five-minute walk from my house, so I don't have to worry about driving. It's—" 

"Excuse me? You would rather walk instead of letting me pick you up? Is that what I’m hearing?”

She laughs again, making his heart soar. "You shouldn't drive with a broken wrist, silly." 

"I drive with one hand anyway." Harry sits on the balcony's decorative chair and crosses his legs. "Speaking of picking up, did you want to meet me at the airport when my flight lands?" 

"What time?"

He sputters his lips as he foggily tries to recall. "Tomorrow, a little after four in the morning. You don't have to, though. I know it's early." 

"I'll be there." 

No hesitance. All confidence. Harry swears that if she was next to him, he would kiss her lips until they ached. 

"You're the best, Sawyer." 

She hums delicately, almost sensually. "I'll see you then. I miss you, sunray." 

At the sound of his nickname coming from her, Harry's cock twitches under his denim shorts. "Yeah? I miss you more." 

Her smile is evident when she replies, "I'll bring your favorite blanket from my house in case you want to sleep while I drive." 

"Fuck, I can't wait for that." He doesn't tell her that it's his favorite blanket because it smells like her—an irresistible blend of coconut and pure sunshine.

"Me neither." The sound of her car starting is muffled in the background. "I have to head to the grocery store, so I'll let you go. Good luck with the game tonight." 

"Thanks. Hey, can you buy me some Toaster Strudels while you're there? The apple kind, please." 

"I got a job, and now you want me to buy you food? Absolutely ridiculous." 

"I'm injured. That's my excuse." 

"Bye, Harry." He can totally tell she's rolling her eyes. "Get some rest, okay?" 

"I will," he promises while toying with his bottom lip. “Bye, Sawyer. I miss you so much that it hurts." 

She snorts before hanging up. Harry sighs and uncrosses his legs—it’s a brutal mistake that has him hissing and palming his bulge. There's a tender ache that isn't painful, but it's still present and will definitely be an issue he needs to take care of before seeing anyone. 

It’s cruel the things she does to him without even trying. He got so horny over a friendly conversation that it's almost shameful the way he's about to jerk off in a Holiday Inn bathroom. 

Sawyer. She's all he can think about when he steps under the hot spray of water, biting his knuckles and bucking his hips as he unravels from just the thought of her sweet voice and smile. The image of her doesn't leave his brain until he falls asleep again, but even then, she manages to seep into his dreams like some unconscious sign being sent to him. 

—— 

There's no one else Sawyer would do this for. It's four in the morning, and she's in the airport parking lot waiting for Harry's plane to touch down. It's raining—downpouring, to be precise. The droplets hitting her car lull her to sleep. Her head leans against the window as the squeaky windshield wipers do their best to clear the continuously pelted glass. 

September in Orlando brings torrential precipitation most days. It's peak hurricane season, so the palm trees seem to constantly be swaying in the wind. Florida has been Sawyer's home since birth, but she wishes she had been raised elsewhere. Someplace where it isn't so humid, the citizens aren't so entitled, and the traffic isn't so unbearable. The only thing keeping her in the city is her best friend. He makes it worthwhile.

The passenger door suddenly opens, and Sawyer jolts awake. She slowly opens her eyes and stretches uncomfortably. 

"Why is your door unlocked?" Harry asks hoarsely, his morning voice causing a shiver to run down her spine. 

"There's no one here," she grumbles as her seatbelt clicks in time with a distant rumble of thunder. 

He throws his luggage in the backseat and says, "It doesn't matter. There could be creeps lurking around." 

Sawyer hums monotonously and clicks on the interior light to look at him. He's wearing a gray hoodie, the right sleeve covering part of his wrist bandage. Black sweatpants hang loosely on his legs. Strands of wet curls stick to his face and fall across his forehead, officially labeling him as the epitome of handsomeness. Somehow, he got tanner in the single day that he was gone. The sun in South Carolina must have kissed his skin with kindness, leaving more freckles across his perfect nose and cheekbones. 

"Where to for an early morning snack?" Harry asks while adjusting the air vents. 

"7/11 is open. Slurpees?" 

He nods eagerly, so Sawyer reverses out of the parking spot and heads in the direction of the convenience store. She turns on a classic rock radio station. They quietly sing "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You" by Heart the whole way there, the thunder and lightning outside providing background ambiance for their duet. 

Once they arrive, Sawyer parks, grabs her fleece blanket from the backseat, and gently lays it over Harry’s body. 

"Blue raspberry?" she asks him, even though she already knows the answer. 

"Please and thank you," he murmurs, putting his lanky legs on the seat. He tucks the blanket under his nose and inhales deeply.

She steps out, the orange and green neon sign reflecting off the puddles on the slick sidewalk, and walks through the glass doors. No one else is inside except a lone cashier, who looks like he's about to tip over from exhaustion. She pays and gets two cups, then walks over to the machine to fill them up—a blue raspberry for Harry and a Mountain Dew for herself so she can stay awake during the drive home. 

When she returns outside, she sees Harry with his head pressed against the window like he's in a depressing music video. She hopes he isn't too bummed about the unfortunate outcome of yesterday. News quickly spread that the Sun Rays lost the championship game. Deep down, everyone knew a win would be asking for a miracle without Southpaw pitching on the field. 

Sawyer sits in the driver's seat and hands him his drink. "I'm sorry about the loss." 

Harry sighs and takes the cup from her. "I think we all knew what the result would be. We were in our own heads, which unfortunately translated to how everyone played." 

She gives him a sad smile before taking a sip of her drink. "That sucks. I'm sorry." 

"There's always next year."

She watched the game from the comfort of her living room. Every time the cameras cut to Harry sitting in the dugout with a less-than-enthused expression on his face, her heart squeezed painfully. He loves baseball more than anything, and him not being able to play for his team clearly clouded his mood. She felt the effects of it when saying goodbye at the airport.

After a minute of tranquility, Sawyer turns off the radio and musters up some courage to ask the question that’s been lingering in the back of her mind since yesterday. 

"At the airport, why didn't you say I love you back? Did you not hear me?" 

Utter silence except for slanted rain falling even harder. Harry seems to be internally debating a response while he stares straight ahead and sucks from the straw in his slushy, his cheeks hollowed as he takes gulp after gulp. Sawyer is genuinely worried he'll get a brain freeze. 

Eventually, he sets his drink in the cup holder and clears his throat before tilting his head back on the headrest. "Fuck it," he exhales in a single breath. "I knew if I said it then, it would've changed everything. I wouldn't have meant it the way you did." 

There's the sign. She asked for it when she hugged him at the terminal. The one that's been hidden in both of them for so long, trying to crawl up to the surface but always shying away to avoid rejection. Always creating a barrier between the fine line of their friendship and something more. Constantly on the edge of a confession but never taking the leap. 

"How do you know the way I meant it?" 

"Friendly, I guess," Harry mumbles, plucking imaginary lint from his sweatpants. "Because we're friends. I don't know." 

"You don't know. You have no idea, actually." 

He looks at her, narrowing his eyes. "What are you talking about?" 

"You're wrong," she says vaguely. "I didn't mean it like that." 

He shakes his head, not understanding what she's getting at. "Stop speaking in riddles. What do you mean?" 

Cracking her fingers anxiously, she murmurs, "What do you think it means?" 

"Cut me some slack, shortstop. I don't know, all right? I like to think I know what goes on in your head, but I'm clueless right now." 

"Then answer this question." She shifts in her seat to face him. "In what way would you have meant it if you had said I love you?" 

He sighs and rubs his temples. "Sawyer, don't." 

"Tell me," she demands. 

"No. Let's just go home." 

"You might as well just say it." 

"Say what?" He runs a hand through his damp hair. "Just drive." 

She yanks her key out of the ignition. "I'm not moving this car until you tell me." 

"You're so stubborn, do you know that?" 

"I'm not just going to drop it, Harry." 

"I would really appreciate it if you would." 

"Then we'll be here for a while because—"

"I'm in love with you, okay?!" Harry abruptly leans over the console and grabs her cheeks, glancing down at her lips for a fraction of a second. "Okay?" he says more softly. "Does that answer your question?" 

The sign is so beautifully clear.

"Yes," Sawyer chokes out. "Yes, it does." 

He settles back in his seat and crosses his arms. "Wonderful. Now start driving." 

Lightning strikes. Rain batters. Hearts pound. She doesn't listen to him as she opens the car door and steps out, letting the downpour mat her hair and saturate her clothes. 

Harry hastily gets out and walks around the car toward her. "What in the world are you doing?" he asks, completely dumbfounded. 

Every fear about whether or not it will ruin everything disappears like gray skies after a storm. The sign has been spoken, and it now drops from the cloudburst and seeps into Sawyer's veins like the raindrops on her skin. 

"I'm in love with you too," she says over the sound of rainfall. Harry leans back against the car like he physically took a blow from her admission. "I mean it," she adds more firmly. "That's how I meant it at the airport." 

After a laugh of disbelief, he prompts, "And you made me admit it first because...?" 

"Because you make me nervous!" she says, spreading her arms. "You make me so nervous, Harry, but in a good way. In a way that makes me wonder if all those times you'd be flirty or handsy with me were on purpose." 

He steps closer, flexing his hands. "Of course they were, but I never wanted to just blatantly throw a confession of love at you. You had a boyfriend, and I would never screw that up for you. Even if he was a total birdbrain and didn't deserve you." 

Sawyer smirks. "And yet you flirted with me anyway?" 

"Well, I-I..." he stutters, scratching his head. "To be fair, I was flirting with you way before you were taken. The first time we met, to be specific."

She laughs loudly. "We're so stupid! Why were we so blind?" 

He wrinkles his nose and squints up at the sky. "I don't think we were blind. I think we were scared." 

"I'm not scared anymore."

He uses his uninjured hand to tuck strands of her hair behind her ear, then moves it to caress the side of her head. "Then kiss me." 

Her chest visibly deflates. "But your wrist..." 

"I really don't give a fuck about my wrist right now." 

"Okay, but I do," she argues, pointing at his gauze that's now soaked through. "You just had surgery—"

Harry's blue-stained mouth shuts her up. His teeth clash with hers, but his soft, wet lips quickly take control and remedy the slight pain. Placing both hands on the sides of her neck, his thumbs tilt her jaw upward to coax deep and perfectly messy kisses out of her pliant mouth. Sawyer settles her hands on his narrow hips and leans into him, doing her best to return his constant affection. His hoodie is drenched, and his hair tickles her face as his nose nudges against hers, slick from the rain. They're both breathing heavily, and she hums into his mouth when he tilts his head to kiss her from a different angle. Faint groans and whimpers come from the back of his throat when she returns his kisses with equal fervor. They make out until the rain causes their teeth to chatter, forcing their aching lips apart.

Sawyer pulls away first, feeling a bit dizzy. "Damn, Southpaw. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet." 

"Please don't call me that," Harry says breathlessly, placing kiss after kiss on her forehead. “I only want to be your sunray. Forever." 

"I can't call you my boyfriend?"

He turns to the side and awkwardly coughs into the crook of his elbow. "Is this… am I your boyfriend? Wait. Don't… aren't you supposed to ask or something?" 

"Sunray," she says, cradling his cheeks like she's wanted to do for so long, "will you be my boyfriend?"

He gives her a noogie. "Duh. Will you be my girlfriend?" 

Sawyer nods elatedly, and Harry pumps his fist in the air before bringing her in for a suffocatingly affectionate hug. The two lovers stay in that position until the rain lets up and the sunrise lightens the sky. They sway like the palm trees do on the boulevard, kissing until their lips are numb. They hold each other until their clothes stick to their skin. They fall deeper in love since life's too short to not act on buried feelings. 

The storm has passed. 

The sky has opened. 

The sign is crystal clear. 

——

[raidenssblog]

Alluring

Paring: tanjiro x male! Reader

Genre: fluff

Pronouns: he/him

Warnings: none

Summary: just some random fluff cus I haven't posted in 1+ months💀 m!reader has long ish hair.

A/n: I posted this for my birthday 4/7 but unfortunately I didn't actually post it and I didn't realise till today😭 I also got lost on this and drifted to other ideas and it's 550am so it's all over the place rn

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Walking around the estate, Tanjiro listens to nezuko hum a tune while holding his hand.

Tanjiro breathed in deeply, smelling the fresh night air once again. They both continue to walk down to the small flowing stream near by before he halted, your scent filled his sensors in a dizzying way.

Nezuko must have noticed you and pulled on tanjiros sleeve, pointing down to the stream where he saw you staring off in a daze.

Nezuko gave her brother a hug before turning on her heels and walking back.

Tanjiro stood on the dirt path wondering if he should go up to you or turn in for the night. As he turned away from you, a pull in his heart said to turn around a go back. Making his way back towards you he stepped on a twig.

Flinching at the sound you quickly jump to your feet and draw your sword. Your nerves calm as you saw who the intruder was.

"far out, you scared the living daylights out of me tanjiro" you sighed, placing your sword back.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to!" The red headed boy apologised while bowing quickly, giggling quietly to yourself at his actions you sit back down in your spot.

Looking back at him you ushered him to sit with you, and if course he did so. He sat somewhat close to you while slightly flustered.

You had your hair down only leaving the top pulled back. It frames your face and jawline perfectly, the moon hit it in the best way making it almost glow.

Alluring was the best way to describe you.

You had all the features, cold eyes but the way you looked at him with such care and warmth was confusing to tanjiro, you were more hidden away to yourself like Giyu and no one could read you feelings, everyone but tanjiro.

Truth be told when tanjiro looked at you you felt like crying, his eyes were so soft and understanding, he wasn't ment to be in this work force. Tho no one should be.

You've liked him ever since you've met him, how could you not. He's kind, gentle, thoughtful and determined. Your heart would always beat faster when you're around him, palms sweaty and smiling like an idiot.

Looking back at him you smile, tanjiro flushed and looked down. Even in the dull light you could still see the tips of his ears turn bright red. You shuffled closer wrapping an arm around him.

Tanjiro's eyes shoot to yours in surprise. Taking this as an opportunity, you lift your hand and hold his cheek before leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on his lips.

Tanjiro's eyes widened as his body stiffened, after a second he leaned into this kiss, heart beating out of his cheat. His arms snake around your shoulders before he pulls away with a small gasp.

Smiling again, you rub your thumb on his cheek.

"I love you so much tanjiro, I have ever since I met you. I couldn't stop thinking about you and how sweet of a person you are. How you would always make an effort to help others over yourself. You always had that beautiful smile on your face and such a sweet voice" you said finally letting go of all the bottled up feeling you had for him.

Tanjiro was shocked, he had no words. The only thing he could do was look at you.

Worry filled you when he didn't answer after a minute, pulling back a bit you blabbed on. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you upset I just thought you liked me t-"

"I do, I like you a lot. No. Not like, I love you. I love you so much m/n. Your so nice and you get along with nezuko so well. You've accepted the fact that she's a demon and that warmed me so much. I love you more than what you know m/n"

With that tanjiro kiss you one finally time. Pulling you closer than before and kissing deeper than before. Both your feelings are let out and you can finally show how much he means to you.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

[liliumsabyss]

Almost(Sweet Music)

Light The Way Series

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Levi Ackerman x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.01k

Tw: Levi and Reader have Daughter, Daughter named after Hange Zoe, Deceased Reader, Spousal death, not during timeline after entire plot occurs, vague allusions to a fatal illness/condition, maybe oof Levi(?), Not a song fic, and essentially the entire thing is about grief

A/n: Daughter has black hair but readers eye colour so could be interpreted as related biologically to both you or if you have black hair than she could be only related to you or if you dont she could be just related to Levi and happen to have your eye colour. Or if your like me and she could be biologically related to both of you and you want her to be but you also have grey eye’s than and I would just choose a specific shade. Essentially her entire being is up for interpretation by you so interpret it how you want if your like me and overthink everything.

Levi walked into the small house that laid on the outskirts of the city away from everything. While the age of titans had been over the scouts had not been disbanded still having to clean up the mess of the whole war, Levi still held his high position but had double the paperwork so he often ended up returning home late. The man had large bags under his eyes marking his tiredness and endless hours of work. Walking into the house he slipped off his shoes but stopped mid action hearing a soft melody playing from the upstairs of the old house. A familiar heart aching melody, he finished slipping off his shoes and hanging up his coat before climbing up the stairs he walked down the wooden hallway to the third door from the end the door was wide open. The man stopped leaning against the frame of the door peering into the room. The room had scribble drawings across the walls as well as beautifully done murals also painted next to them, toys, paintbrushes, and other various items. In the room a little girl around the age of ten with long black hair splayed around her head and bright (e/c) eyes laid on the floor staring up at the ceiling, a record player sat near her head playing the melody that Levi both loved and dreaded. On the ceiling that the girl stared upon was a beautifully painted mural of said little girl only younger maybe four or five being held by the same man as the one by the door frame but there was another man holding her on the other side he had (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes and the warmest smile. The girl continued to listen to the tune and stare at the ceiling in thought.

“ Zoe you shouldn’t be up.” The raven haired male stared at the girl on the floor who at the voice bolted straight up onto her feet, her face breaking out in a huge grin.

“ Papa! Your home!’ She said barreling towards the man full speed, throwing her arms around him, giving him a huge hug in which he staggered slightly at the force before he returned it slightly.

“ Zoe,” Levi responded sternly looking down at her as she started to slowly chuckle in response, “ You shouldn’t be up. And where did you get that record?”

“ Well I may or may not have been looking around the house and stumbled upon it.” Zoe said nervously which Levi had known was a complete lie that she stumbled upon it for it had been kept in a large wooden box under his bed that held all other remnants of you.

“ Zoe I know that's a lie but we will talk about it in the morning. You need to go to bed.” The raven haired male said sighing as he lifted up his daughter carrying her to her bed as she snuggled under the covers. The man turned to leave the room when Zoe let out a sharp wait.

“ Can you tell me how you and dad met again?” The black haired girl said with a huge grin across her face that made Levi’s heart swell and shrink at the same time as he looked just slightly past her to see a picture of you with the same grin on her nightstand. Oh how much she seemed like you Levi could never fathom but the corners of his mouth quivered upwards just the slightest bit to form a tiny almost smile which didn’t get past Zoe seeing as her papa rarely had smiled ever but especially since you had been gone.

“ He was part of the scouts but the scientific reserve unit, we always noticed one another. It was just pointless to interact especially when I had to keep an eye on those brats but when I had an off day I went to a tea shop. All the chairs had been taken though except for one chair at the table where your Dad was sitting…” Levi started in his usual deadpan tone but a slight fondness creeped into his voice when he stated “brats” and “ Dad”. He continued on with the story until he heated a slight snoring looking down to see Zoe fast asleep. Levi put a small kiss to her forehead before he stood up grabbing the record from the record player and its sheet next to it as he walked to his room, closing the door and turning off the lights behind him. 

When he got to the cold empty dark room he had once shared with you, the bed remained the same as that day except his side had some wrinkles in the blankets and some in the pillows. He was about to place the record back in its sheet but instead he placed the vinyl on the player gently placing the needle on the outer rim of the disk. The sweet music started to play in the dark bedroom as Levi walked towards the open wooden box that sat on the floor, crouching down he peered inside to see your scouts badge, your certification, your ID, your favorite books, your sketchbooks, pictures of you and any other reminders of your existence. Levi gently grabbed one of the heavy books only to open revealing pages filled with photos, photos that were tinted beige and brown and others in black and white. The photos contained you in the earlier pages were photos of you when you first started as a scout as a teen and even a couple of you as a kid while you had little to nothing and lived on the outskirts of the Underground yu had a huge smile on your face. And as he flipped the pages you started to get older in the photos and then when you appeared to be around thirty the raven haired male started to appear in the photos with you, you juxtaposed each other him with harsh demeanor and deadpan look while you had a certain brightness in your eyes and a huge grin. And then when he turned the pages another was added into the mix an adorable baby girl with a scrunched up face black hair and sparkling (e/c) eyes as you proudly held her in the photos. Then the little girl slowly got older as Levi stared at the photos of you helping her stand and the photos of the three of you doing all sorts of things. But then before Levi realized it he was on the final page, a large photo of the three of you having a picnic by the ocean in which you had managed your largest grin your tired eyes squinting your frail body hugging the raven haired male and your five your old daughter who was holding up a shell proudly in his hands. Looking at the pictures with the soft melody playing in the back that you always hummed and convinced him to slow dance in the middle of the night after both long shifts reminded him just how much he had loved you, how he still loves you his heart still skipped a beat looking at you even after all these years of you being gone. And he slowly put away the picture book and records back into the wooden box before climbing onto the bed laying on top of the covers.

A couple of days later Zoe asked, more like demanded to have a picnic at the beach which in the past Levi had always said no since you had passed however for some inexplicable reason he had begrudgingly agreed to which Zoe’s face had lit up. When they got to the beach the overpowering small of the salt and the deafening crashes of waves with seagulls squawking unpleasant tunes bombarded the air. The raven haired male's stomach felt sickening being there without you felt…wrong. His breathing became rigid and uneven, his posture stiff, his heart racing, and his ears fuzzy as he stared out at the beautiful turquoise waters that were decorated with white seafoam and porcelain sand. The raven haired girl who had her iconic large grin on her face turned happily to look at her father who had been standing even stiffer then his usual demeanor. She quickly grabbed his hand causing him to flinch and look down at the girl in a passing surprise. Zoe tugged the hand of her father towards the ocean causing him to stumble at the force, almost dropping the picnic basket that he held in his other hand. She sprinted causing him also to run to get up to keep up with her. Soon she came to a startling stop as the two laid down the pleated blue blanket that reflected the color of the depths of the ocean. The off white sand shifted under their feet in a struggle to kick off their shoes to avoid getting sand on the cloth. Even still sand got on the blanket which Levi compulsively brushed off but instead of trying to get every tiny grain off he stopped after getting the majority off. The two chatted which was more of a one sided conversation of Zoe ranting about all topics and the raven haired male occasionally let out more of a response than a simple nod, shake of the head, or hum. Zoe started to slow down her rant eventually staring out at the ocean. The entirety of going to the beach shocked Levi, the sun warming his pale almost corpse like face as he finally started to look less like death than he did for the previous five years.

“ Papa you're finally getting some sun so you're less vampire-like!” The dark haired girl said giggling Levi only shook his head at the statement, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“ But seriously papa you look better than you have in years you’ve finally got some color back.” The girl said, staring out at the ocean, her eyes glimmering in the sun. Levi looked at her in a short surprise of her statement and followed her gaze towards the ocean. She then fo no apparent reason started to laugh kicking her feet so similar to you and Levi before he realized it he was laughing with her like he used to.

Once they got back the two listened to the radio at the makeshift dining table covered in paperwork. The drowning sounds of the radio made him think of you as you two would stay up late working on your reports side by side at the same table. You two never needed anything but the other's presence. But soon enough Levi realized the time and made sure to tuck Zoe into bed. Then he was alone. He walked outside to the back porch where the gardens you had so delicately maintained stayed maintained no matter how little free time the raven haired male had. He sat in one of the two oak colored rocking-chairs that sat on the porch. One was his, the other belongs or at least had belonged to you yet it remained vacant since you had passed. Levi sat thinking, staring out into the dark. Most nights, especially ones he had off he repeated this routine. He thought mostly of you and the lifetime you two had together which seemed now like yesterday but also so far away. The thought of it all did make him sad rather than his usual anger filled responses of course he would never let that emotion show to anyone well not anyone alive. However after the years had passed he had better nights without you where the thought of you made him nostalgic rather than despair. And that night after reminiscing of you he had headed up to the empty dark bedroom taking out the record and placing the needle on it as it slowly started to whirl to life playing the same tune it had nights before and half a decade before that. But when he got into bed instead of sleeping on top of the perfectly made covers like usual he climbed underneath getting lost in the warmth drifting off to a peaceful sleep, finally starting to heal after years of ruin.

[pascaloverx]

Hit The Road

Chapter Eight

previous chapter next chapter

Summary: You are a hunter of supernatural beings who is forced to experience a new reality: being a vampire. The only thing stronger than your thirst for blood is your thirst for revenge.

Author's note: The characters mentioned here were created by Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec, based on the book series of the same name by author L. J. Smith. They don't belong to me. That said, this fanfic will be short. This fanfic may address scenes of violence, inappropriate language and adult content. Minors should not interact with this story. Also some information here is not in the order of the series or the same way it happened in the tv series. I'm changing some things to fit the fanfic story. Hope you like it!

You wake up scared as if you had a nightmare, a soft scream of horror escapes you. You analyze the room you are in, recognizing it as Damon's room. Not seeing him makes you afraid. Did he die while you were fighting to survive? Or maybe you're hallucinating...

"I thought you wouldn't wake up so early. It's strange for a vampire to spend two days unconscious." You hear Stefan's voice as clearly as day. You are extremely happy to see him. Without having much strength, you get up staggering and go to hug Stefan.

"I'm so relieved to be here. I thought I died, I actually thought we both died. Please make sure no one died." You speak with a weak tone in your voice almost like you couldn't find strength to talk.

"No one died Y/N. But you could have died thanks to your stubbornness. If Damon and I hadn't run here and found Caroline with Klaus' blood..." Stefan seems more stressed than usual when he face the reality of your actions. You look at him tenderly and give him a peck on the lips. You want to make it clear that you are grateful for everything and that you are sorry.

"Where is your brother?" You ask, still in Stefan's arms. He seems apprehensive but after a sigh he answers you.

"With Elena, she hasn't left his side since we arrived. After we saved you, Damon finally felt the consequences of the werewolve's torture." Stefan says as he hugs you even tighter. It seems like he knows you're feeling slightly uncomfortable about Elena being with Damon.

"You know that I can't demand any type of monogamous relationship from your brother, right? You don't need to be afraid to tell me that he's with someone." You say trying to stay strong both physically and psychologically. Feelings really are a great weakness.

"You don't need to deceive me, Y/N. I can feel your discomfort from here." Stefan speaks as if you were obvious to him. A puzzle that he has already solved and is used to.

"Now I know why we were in a secret relationship. You're sexy when you think you know something." You say, kissing Stefan right after.

"Sex will not solve our problems. As much as I want to, I don't think it's right for us to do this. Before I thought you were a stranger and now I know that even though I don't remember, I love you." When the words finish coming out of Stefan's mouth, you understand the burden of having returned to the Salvatore's lives.

"I love you too, even if I don't remember it. I would still like to sleep with you today." You speak sincerely looking at Stefan with a needy expression.

Stefan is silent for a while as you reflect on how comfortable you feel with him. Does Stefan know that he is like home to you? Cozy and comfortable, a place you want to belong. You observe him and decide to try to make him stop rationalizing what he is doing.You start by lifting your feet and kissing Stefan's forehead, then kissing his cheeks lightly, kissing near his eyelids. You kiss both sides of the neck softly, as if wanting to show your desire for someone. As soon as you feel Stefan is receptive, you kiss his lips firmly. He returns the kiss, increasing the intensity with which your mouths and his are intertwined.

"Am I interrupting something?" Elena speaks in an extremely serious tone entering Stefan's room. Did she not learn during her life that knocking on the door is the correct thing to do when you're entering someone's else room?

"Yes, you should use good manners and knock on the door before entering. It's okay that you've seen Stefan naked but I could be in a much more compromising situation." You speak being as direct as possible. She had to interrupt her moment with Stefan right when you were almost convincing him to sleep with you.

"Did something happen to Damon?" Stefan says, composing himself, and looking at the two of you.

"He's already much better, I was just going to let him know that I'm going home to take a shower and probably will come back later. Even during Damon's sleep, he kept calling a name. Y/N, to be exact. Maybe you guys should check on him." Elena says a little desapointed, and you somehow understand her. It must be difficult to see that you are no longer the only woman in the lives of the two men she loves. She left quickly after saying that to you and Stefan.

"Let me go see your brother and you can take a shower to calm down. Maybe another time we'll finish what we started here." You say pointing to Stefan's visibly aroused dick. He is embarrassed, but kisses the corner of your mouth. It's almost as if we communicate through looks. Then you head towards Damon's room.

"I heard you need a babysitter until your girlfriend gets back. I hope you don't mind me coming, but after all I'm your wife. I'm supposed to take care of my husband." Do you speak as soon as he enters Damon's room, seeing him half naked trying to find clothes to put on.

"You used to hate it when I called you wife. But I'm fine, don't worry. You should be resting." Damon speaks disinterestedly, as if he doesn't want to talk to you or look at you.

"Did I do something that pissed you off or is there at least a reason why you're avoiding looking at me?" You ask with a little anger on your tone of voice.

"You were irresponsible in putting your life at risk for me. You could have died thanks to your stupidity." Damon speaks completely out of character. You smile without believing the words he is saying.

"If I hadn't choose to go with Stefan, you wouldn't be here, but your ungratefulness is beyond realizing that, right? You question him, looking him in the face. Your fingers are slightly directed close to Damon's bare chest.

"Next time, choose yourself. That's what I would have done." Damon speaks rudely.

"Are you saying you wouldn't try to save me if it could mean your death?" You question, directly getting upset.

"Without even thinking twice." He responds so sharply and directly that you don't even notice when you slap him across the face. There is a limit to how far you can go and Damon has surpassed it. This bastard. It doesn't even take you long to leave the room crying.

[voidwhump]

Here Be Demons #1

Ok, so apparently at some point I wrote like 5k words of exorcism based whump and just. Never posted most of it. I’m going through and editing/rewriting to try and warm myself back up to writing regularly. Also lemme know if the formatting is fucked up I’m posting on mobile :)

Contains: implied religion, demonic possession, exorcisms, ~1k words

The blood was evaporating from the walls.

That was a good sign. Ariel finished packing his equipment into his canvas bag and stood, watching as the last of the bloody writing lifted from the rough wood planks. It left faint pink stains that luckily weren’t readable. His patient was slumped limp in the chair Ariel had bound him to, head lolled forward onto his chest. Ariel cautiously walked over, checking over the runes on the manacles for any deformities or changes to the script that would nullify the binding. None stood out. After another second of consideration he unlocked the cuffs, the risk of needing to rebind outweighed by the hope that waking up unrestrained would be less stressful to his client than the other way around.

As the manacles clunked against the hard wood chair the man groaned, eyelids fluttering. Ariel backed away a few steps, one hand on his pendant as the man raised his head.

“Hey, it’s Simon, right? How’re you feeling?”

The man looked up, eyes searching the empty barn before settling on Ariel. He had developed dark circles that could be mistaken for bruising, and his lips were dry enough to crack and bleed when he opened his mouth to respond.

“Yeah, better,” Simon’s voice sounded as dry as his lips looked.

Ariel offered him his water. The man gulped it down, wiping his mouth off as he handed the emptied skin back to Ariel.

“Thanks. Did anything happen? Is anyone hurt?”

Ariel shook his head at the common question. “No one got hurt. You’re lucky you have a wife that listens to her children, they’ll almost always notice before anyone else,”

Simon smiled and let Ariel help him to his feet. He was trembling, and leaned on him as they began to walk back to the house. Ariel would tell him to take it easy for a day or two if he could.

“Let’s go let everyone know you’re alright, and then I’ll give you some temporary wards so nothing can hit you when you’re down.”

They entered the house where Simon’s family was waiting. As the door closed behind them, Simon’s wife, Jess, peeked around the kitchen door frame. At her husband’s tired wave, she flew down the hall, coming close to knocking him off his feet with a hug. She took his face in her hands and inspected him, looking over to Ariel.

“No demons?”

“No demons,”

Jess kissed her husband and led him to their living room, Ariel following behind. Simon’s daughters were on the couch, waiting expectantly. They were soon clinging to his legs, causing Simon’s feet to drag as he stumbled to the couch to collapse. The children immediately took advantage of his prone position, climbing on top of him. A rapid series of questions followed:

“What do demons look like?”

“Was it scary?”

Ariel sat down with Jess and filled her in. Simon wouldn’t remember much, he should relax for a day or so, and they should be extra vigilant for a month or so. He handed the family some wooden charms that when activated would serve as a light repellent of the supernatural for around a week. He also mentioned that if anything ‘unlucky’ that happened regularly stopped happening while they had the charms, it might be due to an outside force and they should feel free to have him back for a more general cleanse.

Ariel waved goodbye to the family and walked home, taking his time to wander through the trees. He noted the life around him, juvenile birds perching nearby, how the leaves had matured from spring to now, early summer. It would be their off season soon. He made it home just as the sun was setting. He was greeted by Layli, who appeared from behind a tree as Ariel approached the outskirts of the town.

“Success I’d assume?” Layli smiled and looked at Ariel expectantly.

“It went well. He’s got an adorable family. I’m glad they caught it so early.” Ariel accepted Layli’s half hug and they walked together to Ariel’s house.

The town was beautiful in the sunset, the last rays of light streaming through the tree branches casting a warm orange glow on the houses tucked around trunks. It wasn’t good luck to clear large area around here.

Ariel invited Layli to sit down and have some tea and they accepted. He set up the kettle and got out the honey and tea leaves. The two went back and forth for a while, planning a day for a picnic or maybe just a walk sometime soon. The kettle boiled and Layli got down some mugs while Ariel poured the water through the tea leaves into the teapot. They waited for the tea to steep and lounged around. The conversation remained light. It was good for both of them to keep it that way, what with their line of work. The tea was finished and Layli had things to get done so they left, Ariel sitting down to finish his record of the exorcism.

The possession had been caught early, and he’d forced it into the second, more exposed stage so he could start the exorcism with minimal damage. He admitted that he’d rushed a bit and the demon remained unidentified but definitely minor. The client had to be restrained but the demon either didn’t know how to or couldn’t modify the restraints or holy symbol. No backup had been required. The family had been provided with charms and instructions.

Ariel left his notebook open on the desk, waiting for the ink to dry. He sat back in his chair. It had been a while since he’d had an actual break, sure, there had been gaps between jobs, but he was always on call and it was tiring. Maybe he’d take a real break. Go visit his parents or something. It had been a while. He closed the notebook and stretched. Time for bed. Ariel got up and changed into a more comfortable shirt, lying down on his bed, gazing out the window at the rising moon. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, imagining the tension of the exorcism dripping off him and soaking into the floor and dissipating into the dirt underneath it. He quickly drifted off.

[timotey]

Ficlet: Of Sucky Days

The Sign. Yai/Sand. Missing scene from ep 5. Unbeta’d.

Coming home after a sucky day.

(My first Yai/Sand ficlet, yay!)

***

“Oh, hey, hi. How was work?” That’s all that Sand manages to say before she’s enveloped in her boyfriend’s strong arms.

Yai walks into their flat, kicks the door shut and lets his bag drop to the floor, then he almost falls into his beloved’s arms, and wrapping himself around her, octopus-like, buries his face in her neck and groans.

Sand lifts her eyebrows, blinking rapidly in surprise, then she returns the hug, stroking Yai's back soothingly. “That bad, huh?” she says sympathetically.

“Today is a sucky, sucky day,” Yai whines pitifully and squeezes her tight, almost lifting her off the floor.

Sand laughs a little, simply letting Yai breathe her in, soak her in like sunshine after a cold season. “I’m all ears,” she offers.

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “No, you’re not. Which is good. I know I said I would love you in any and every shape and form but I just might draw the line at you being all ears.” 

Yai pulls away from her and with a twinkle in his eyes, he sweeps her off her feet and carries her to the couch where he proceeds to sprawl lazily with her in his lap.

“Alright, alright,” Sand says, still smiling wide as she settles down comfortably - and wiggles just a little, for good measure. “Not all ears, then, just two. But ready to listen, if you want to talk.”

Yai groans again though this time for different reasons; Sand knows very well what she’s doing, squirming like that, right on top of his little friend. He orders the lively thing to behave, at least for now, and pulls his girlfriend close.

“I can’t really go into details,” Yai says, “but, well, we caught our guy. Which is great. But it also sucks. Because he's a murderer who forced innocent people do unspeakable things but he was also a victim first, before all that. And if the cops had done a better job back then, none of this would’ve happened. So that sucks too. The whole situation sucks, from the beginning to the end.”

Sand hums and she leans against his shoulder, stroking his face and listening.

“And if that wasn’t enough, Phaya had a row with Tharn. He actually hit Tharn, the bastard,” Yai grumbles, voice laced with real irritation and worry.

That makes Sand raise her head and look at Yai in concern. “Phaya hit Tharn?” she asks in dismay.

“Well, it was most likely an accident, I give you that,” Yai allows grudgingly, “at least Tharn insists it was. But I would probably be more inclined to believe that if Phaya hadn’t punched a wall first. That guy has a real temper, let me tell you.”

“Is Tharn okay?” Sand asks, worried. Tharn's always been like a brother-in-law to her, like family, and treated her with nothing but kindness and affection.

“Yeah. Yeah, he and Phaya made up, apparently. Or... whatever. After Tharn got stabbed,” Yai finishes morosely.

Sand freezes, eyes widening. “He what?” she exclaimed.

“Got stabbed. The vest deflected the hit, mostly. But, yeah, he did. Protecting Phaya. Yet again,” Yai mutters, annoyed. “Like I said, today sucks. Big time!”

“So Tharn’s okay?” Sand assures herself. “Where is he now?”

“Yeah, he is, more or less, okay, I mean,” Yai tells her. “And he’s at home. Phaya went with him.”

Sand lifts an eyebrow. “Did he now?” 

“Yeah. He wanted me to pick up some clothes for him at his house, can you believe that guy?” Yai fumes. “First he punches my brother, then he allows him to get stabbed and then he wants me to play a manservant. Dude can waltz around naked for all I care!”

Sand’s lips twitch. “I bet Tharn would appreciate that.”

That stops Yai short. “Huh. Maybe I should have brought him his things, after all,” he muses, frowning a little.

“But Tharn is okay, right?” Sand asks again, just to be sure. Though she knows that if he weren’t Yai wouldn’t just be sitting here, grumbling. She knows how much Yai loves Tharn, with all his big foolish heart and then some. “Both he and Phaya?”

Yai sighs, dropping his head back against the backrest. “Yeah, they are. Just a little banged up, is all. Probably playing doctor right now.” He straightens up again, narrowing his eyes. “Wait.”

Sand laughs, seeing his disturbed expression. Then, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, she runs her hand down his chest, lower and lower - and wiggles in his lap again. “And what about you?” she whispers, leaning closer, her breath hot against his ear. “Up to playing doctor with me?”

Yai draws in a sharp breath, eyes blazing up, when Sand brushes her fingers against his belt buckle. His little friend immediately jumps to attention.

In a split second, Yai is back on his feet with an armful of a laughing girlfriend. “Yeah. We should definitely do that. I think that a thorough check-up is in order.”

And with that he rushes towards their bedroom, Sand’s laughter echoing through their flat, and all worries are forgotten, at least for now.

[avvail-whumps]

PRAYER

cw: multiple whumpers, reluctant whumper, mentioned multiple whumpees, kidnapping, implied past (abusive) relationships, violence, blood, minor character death

Riley nibbled on his thumb anxiously, his foot tapping repeatedly against the ground. There was a click from the door leading downstairs, and his head lifted up to find the sniper approaching him. He swiftly rose to his feet, his throat burning. 

“Is she awake?” He forced out, though there was a part of him that wasn’t even sure he wanted him to answer. The sniper towered over him, his dark eyes boring into his own, and he swallowed nervously from the intense expression on his face. Or at least, what he could see of his face. The sniper shook his head, and his stomach stabbed with poisoned guilt. 

The whumpee on the corner of the couch made a soft moaning noise, causing both of them to glance over. He had almost forgotten they were there, strung up ready for whatever execution the sniper deemed fit. He had claimed they were boring, and wanted to get rid of them. Riley ran his fingers through his hair, releasing a shuddering breath. 

“Look, I didn’t ask for you to do this,” he murmured, unable to stop fidgeting. The sniper’s narrowed eyes followed him intensely as he paced the length of the couch. “You know, I know her. Cherry isn’t…I don’t think we should be—” 

He cut himself off in frustration, dragging his hands down his face. It was easier to swallow when the sniper’s victims were total strangers. Plucked off the street without so much as a name. But not only was Cherry someone that he knew, she was also widely known across the world now. How was the sniper not worried about the consequences of this? 

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him wince. He had to tilt his head back to meet the sniper’s cold eyes. 

“Let’s not forget what she did,” he signed slowly, giving Riley an opportunity to translate. His nose wrinkled, slapping his hand away. 

“Did you forget that you used to be a fan of hers as well?” 

The sniper titled his head. “Yes. Then you threw a tantrum.” 

Riley fumbled to reciprocate the one word he’d recognised, his hands still struggling with the shapes. “Tantrum? You know damn well why I threw a tantrum.”

“Exactly. So don’t you think she deserves it?” 

Riley’s exhausted eyes stared at him, blinking slowly. His heart pounded in his chest as he forced his words out again. “I don’t know what you said.” 

The sniper’s hands, of which he miserably thought would have Cherry’s blood on them sooner or later, signed each word slowly and carefully, his intense eyes almost making his spine shiver through each vertebrae. “She deserves it.” 

Riley’s eyes averted in frustration. His mind stirred with painful memories, only fuelling his resentment towards the blonde girl, now a victim in their own home. But no matter how much Cherry had hurt him and dragged his life through the mud, how could he be complicit in her torture and murder? How could he sit by and just let that happen? 

A cruel voice rang in his ears. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing this whole time? 

When the forgotten whumpee on the couch made another pained moaning sound, Riley swatted the sniper away from him, turning around in frustration. “Can you just deal with that one, please?” 

The sniper watched him as he hugged his arms close, sinking back down onto the couch with a heavy sigh. His head was pounding, but it wasn’t like the sniper would give him any opportunity to be alone outside. Not even for a lick of fresh air. 

“I already laid out the plastic sheets like you asked,” he mumbled softly under his breath, the energy draining out of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cherry, sucked into a vacuum of his own thoughts, only of her. The sniper’s hand gripped his shoulder, snapping his fingers abruptly in front of his face. Riley’s eyes snapped open, wincing when the hand tightened around his shoulder. 

“Stop spiralling,” the sniper demanded, and Riley didn’t dare look away until the sniper stepped back, and hurled the whumpee over his burly shoulder. They let out a slurred, panicked squeal, and Riley watched him take them into the kitchen. His eyes flickered over to the door where Cherry was awaiting, before he forced himself to look away. 

This whumpee didn’t particularly interest the sniper in the slightest. They weren’t fun, and they didn’t even deserve the liberty of a proper clean up. He dumped them unceremoniously onto the ground, over the sheets, and languidling pulled out a large knife from the box. 

They could barely even squirm through their restraints, and the sniper kneeled down over their body, slamming the knife deep into their guts. The whumpee gave a strangled scream as the sniper punctured their flesh over and over again, rivulets of blood spilling from their stomach and splattering onto the plastic sheets. Their body convulsed, once and then twice, but the sniper didn’t relent. Blood gurgled from under the gag, trickling down their chin, and they quickly went still. 

The sniper observed the lifeless body for a moment. His dark eyes focused on the mangled, pierced flesh, before he wiped the blood off the knife, and casually rose his feet. 

When he returned to the living room, Riley was gone.

drabble winners taglist - @morning-star-whump

[kanamori-kamper-moved]

predictable as FUCK but 💪🏼 or 🩸 for Aztecshipping please?

I’ll do both since they both work well with the scenario I’m imagining, since we briefly spoke about the Prince Yuma and Trey Knight au in DMS and I think that works well with them!!

Also this DOES have trans girl trey propaganda because fuck you

-

Yuma was, admittedly, a person who failed to practice self-preservation. If he wasn’t a prince, he was sure he’d be called stupid, an idiot, frankly a moron. And because of this fact, he’d met Trey.

She was a knight, but if you asked anyone she was more like a bounty hunter, slaying dragons and beasts for the little amount of money she could get from it. Her brother, Quattro, fit the description more, saving ladies from the village whenever they happened to get into danger. Although that was impressive, there was nothing as impressive as seeing Trey swing her sword, to slay a dragon, and wipe the blood off of her face as if nothing had ever happened.

But, of course, The day went as normal, he had planned to pick some berries and visit the Arclights cottage to bake a pie with her. He always enjoyed spending time with her, and how couldn’t he? She was the most beautiful women he knew, and no matter how delicious her pies were, she was always sweeter than it could ever be. The only issue was, Yuma tended to attract danger, almost as if he were a lightening rod for it, and before he knew it, he was being dragged off by a dragon to be ripped limb by limb and eaten.

But the silver lining was that Trey always came riding in on her beautiful white horse to come and save him, she always open carried her sword, already reaching out to get it, before throwing it at the scaly winged beasts neck. Of course, it instantly dropped Yuma comes its claws to recoil and growl in pain, leaving just enough time for him to get away and get away from it.

The way Trey fought was always mesmerizing to him, always memorizing his beloved knights steps. She was always quick on her feet, taking the time that she needed to retrieve her sword, gripping it firmly in her left hand. She was always left handed, never held anything in her right, just another thing to admire about her.

Landing back on her feet, it lunged for her, reaching out its razor sharp claws for her, and Yuma was sure she would evade it.

He was sure.

He was so sure.

While Trey was taking the time to swing her sword at the claw the beast was throwing at her, she barely had the time to process the fact that it was reaching its other claw for her, painfully, deeply scratching her in her abdomen. “Trey!” Yuma called out, “Yuma, stay back! I’m fine! You’ll only get hurt if you try to interfere.”

But as she always did, she had slain the dragon, and all was well.

Except.. it wasn’t.

Trey was bleeding all over herself, blood seeping out of her armor and onto the once green grass. Yuma ran towards her, hugging her tight. “Yuma..” She smiled, almost falling over. “Trey, I have to get you to a doctor! You’re bleeding all over yourself!”

“No, Yuma. You can’t bring me to one of your doctors, they’ll ask me how it happened. I can’t trouble anyone with that.”

“Then I’ll take care of you.” Trey lightly squeaked feeling Yuma pick her up with both of his hands. Trey was older than him, and just a few centimeters taller, SHE was supposed to be the one carrying the cute prince away from danger.

“You know, girls are a lot heavier than they look-“ Yuma grunted, trying his best to hold her up. “But It’s a necessary sacrifice!”

Yuma was minimally athletic, but the adrenaline rushing through him didn’t stop him from running at full force towards the Arclights cottage.

Yuma slammed open the door, helping her upstairs and laying her onto the soft mattress of her bed. “Yuma.. you don’t have to do this..”

“I can’t just let my knight do so much for me, and not do anything in return. That would be selfish of me.”

Yuma lifted off her chest plate, then her pants. “Uhm.. I’ll try not to look too much, of course-“ He blushed, well, he’d never really seen a girl without anything on, well Trey did have something on, but the fact still remained. He failed to understand girls, especially their bodies.

“You’re too cute, it’s fine.” Trey softly smiled, once more. “Just do what you will, my prince.”

Her soft white camisole was completely soaked in blood, Yuma having to lift it up and put it to the side. Her abdomen had 3 nail shaped gashes in it, and even above this fresh one were old ones from previous battles, and of course the wounds weren’t big but she was still bleeding. They were absolutely oozing with blood, bubbling and starting to turn partially black because of the buildup. Yuma had never seen so much blood in his life, but he supposed this was the noble sacrifice a beautiful Knight like her had to make. It’s the job she’d chosen by herself, after all.

He’d fished out some gauze from one of her cabinets per her instructions, wrapping her up and stopping the flow of it dead in its tracks.

“Thank you.. honestly..” Trey breathed with a sigh of relief, although still a tad bit woozy, “Really, it’s nothing! I just didn’t want you to die out there, anyone would want that, I’m sure.”

“Honestly, you should hate me by now. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be getting hurt so much just because of me.”

“Yuma, If I were to hate you, I would’ve already left you a long time ago.” Trey sat up, touching Yumas shoulder. “I choose to save you because If I don’t, who will? If I don’t get hurt at least once, you would never know how much I care for you.”

“I guess thats true…”

“I’m sure Quattro will be angry with me when he comes home and sees me like this, but it’ll be worth it, I think.” Quattro never did like Yuma after all, to be honest he was never fond of boys who’d go in the pursuit of his darling sister, “But, let’s go downstairs. I saw you were picking berries earlier, let’s make a pie. I liked the way you carried me up like that, almost like you were my knight, you can do that again, if you’d like.”

“O-Of course!”

And so they did, and maybe, even if the day hadn’t gone as planned, she still remained as sweet.

[outpost51]

WIP Whenever

hey remember how i got super excited about the snippet the other week, well i'm back with chapter 15 lmao leaving it open for anyone else that's also impatient and tagging: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @teamdilf @princess-prawn @tabswrites @liv-is

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The line went silent and once more Talus was alone with nothing left to keep him company but his terrible thoughts and a worried varren. He took another swig from the bottle of whisky he’d been nursing for most of the night — or very early morning, he wasn’t sure anymore. It all bled together after his would-be daughter-in-law decided to take his two remaining sons away. Didn’t she have enough? Couldn’t her daddy’s money buy her another husband, another son? He’d worked for everything his whole goddamn life, and she’d just shown up all pretty in her gourmet — no, couture? Whatever. It was all made by some other rich fucks whose names he couldn’t pronounce.

‘Gaultius,’ Kadmos huffed, dusting some unseen dirt off his lapel. As if merely being around his trash twin was so unclean. ‘But that isn’t the point, Talus—’

‘Nah, the point’s you gotta appease your fuckin’ guilt for abandonin’ me an’ Ma—’

‘Ascina abandoned us for drugs before we’d even opened our eyes, Talus, it isn’t my fault you’ve chosen to keep yours shut!’

Talus tipped the bottle back again and found it as empty as his home. A startled yelp and a loud crash later, it laid in a thousand glittering pieces on the floor.

Much like him, but he was more of a crumpled, sobbing heap. A sad sack of shit, if one were so inclined.

He grabbed at the snout roughly attempting to push under his chin and reluctantly lifted his head from its resting place in his palms so Fishdog could waddle into his lap. It wasn’t Atria, with her endless questions and wild ideas. Or Linni, with his bright eyes that looked so much like his mother’s and held all the innocence he wish they held onto a little longer. Or Fira, with her generous laughs and the secret smiles she held just for him. But it was enough.

‘This don’t make us good,’ he told his estranged uncle from the passenger seat. As many times at Teker had glanced over at him, opened his mouth to speak, Talus was proud he went the whole flight to Cipritine and the whole drive to Valetoria’s place without looking at him once.

‘Didn’t expect it to,’ his uncle replied.

Val provided a good enough distraction for both of them, and his uncle’s fussing almost, almost convinced him to change his mind. That the wiry fuck wasn’t the same piece of shit that killed Ma.

Talus helped Valetoria to the rear cabin, just in case the bastard decided to take another mother away from her son. They hopped from his uncle’s ship to the one Temek had chartered without so much as a goodbye, and skipped off to Terminus space to find a minister to marry them.

At least Atria didn’t hate him. That brought his total count of two whole people in the galaxy that didn’t, if he counted Fishdog as people. Atria was alive, she didn’t hate him, and she had folks looking out for her. She was fine. He hugged Fishdog tighter.

“You’re right,” he slurred in response to the slow huff behind his mandible. “We gotta get ready so she don’t come home to… this.” He grimaced at the state of the living room and sighed when he realized the rest of the first floor looked much the same. Ignoring the shimmer of silver plates and blue-stained gossamer to his left, he stumbled to his feet on the third try, and to his credit, he only bumped into the same piece of furniture twice, thank you very much. His hand hit the switch for the outside light with a little more force than he anticipated, but it had long since gone numb. “Jus’ like her mama, that one,” he huffed. “Hates a messy house.”

The shimmer solidified more into a twisted, mangled thing and he forced himself to look away. She wasn’t real. If she was real, he would have to admit things he wasn’t ready to admit. Would never be ready to admit.

‘Fuck are you doin’ here?’ Tiberius was never the friendliest-looking of his uncles, and the addition of a metal jaw did nothing to help his image. ‘Someone finally give you what you deserved, eh?’

His uncle winced. Talus reached for the shotgun at his back. Maybe he’d finish the job, especially if the big bastard woke Linni. Good thing he’d sent Atria on an errand when he did. ‘I see a few years out in Terminus hasn’t changed you one bit. Where’s—’

‘Out. Like you should be.’

‘I’m not your enemy—’

‘An’ that’s why you’re walkin’ outta here alive.’

When he turned to grab the broom, he slipped on a wet spot that wasn’t there before, just barely managing to catch his fall with his face and sparing his poor arms the responsibility of doing their job. His vision flickered once, twice, and then he blissfully allowed the concussion to take him away from the rotting, purple-lacquered toeclaws stepping into view.

Talus woke some moments later a little dizzy, with a mysterious dull ache pulsing across the right side of his face. Deep, dark blue was smeared across the floor and something inside him panicked, ripping open still-fresh emotional scars — it was quelled when, through the syrupy haze of his higher brain processes, he realized the blood on the floor was his. Not hers. He’d slipped in whisky, he wasn’t on the Galatea, and he’d walked over broken glass in a thin slipper.

“Ah, that ain’t good,” he grumbled, probably too casual for a drake who’d just woken up bleeding on the floor. Nothing for it, he couldn’t feel it anyway. It’d scab over eventually, like his leg. Like his heart.

Teker had a lot of nerve stepping foot on their street, much less on their property.

‘Fuck’re you doin’ here?’ Talus slurred.

‘I called him, Talus.’ Camicidia stalked down the stairs in her fancy fucking shoes and her goddamn dressing gown, as if she’d made herself at home. ‘Keep your voice down, Atria’s upstairs.’

His jaw creaked. She was lucky he could barely see straight at the moment.

‘Where’s Fira?’

‘You keep her name outta your fuckin’—’

‘Shut up, Talus, fuck’s sake.’ Cami held up a credit chit. ‘It’s ten percent of takings, right?’

He hated the fucking pity in Teker’s eyes. Hated him. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ his uncle said — to Cami, not to him, the patriarch of the house, the owner of the house. Like he was some kind of incompetent invalid, and she was his guardian. ‘Think I could talk to Atria for a—’

‘Lil late to gun her mama down and take her away, Razor,’ Talus spat. ‘You keep her name outta your kin-killin’ mouth, too.’

It took five attempts to get off the ground, and he had to lean on the wall, but he finally managed to get the glass swept up. He blew out Atria’s candle first, then hesitated over Fira’s. It was always hard to extinguish her candle’s flame, to distance himself from the bastards that extinguished hers. He finally exhaled a shaky breath, and as the acrid smoke rose from the wick, another scent took its place. She flickered just outside his field of vision again. She was getting easier to ignore. So was the smell, sickly sweet vanilla and incense ash and the pervasive undercurrent of rot. He almost didn't gag.