#and the rest of it is just proper maintenance and care.

[egregiousderp]

I’ve trimmed my own hair since twelve because of this. Not for…trans reasons, but because my grandparents were concerned growing hair out long and unmanageable (read: visibly mixed) would get talk. So my brother’s was always cut very short, and mine was cut and styled without my consent.

If you present female they charge you extra anyway, at most styling joints, so, honestly, it’s kind of nice to be able to do yourself if you can’t find a place that treats you nicely and the style you want isn’t complicated past being able to be kept nice and long.

One thing I find hair places never seem to know how to do though, is curly hair. (I’ve got that 3c hair myself.)

So, for any nice trans girls who need to hear this or who would also like to have the hair of Brian May or Rapunzel, you trim curls when they’re dry and in accordance with the shape you want.

If you try to make them even while wet, they always dry funny and then everything looks wonky because the curls don’t necessarily curl evenly in all sides. Some have more spring. (Especially if you side sleep.)

If you pull something towards the middle to trim the center will be short and the sides will be long. It’ll look like a little parabola. Even curls don’t really save you from that.

Bangs in straight hair you trim wet and measure using your eyebrows as a level most of the time. (Unless you’re Spock. I imagine he uses a ruler.)

If you do it yourself, the funny bit will always be trimming the back of your hair. But once you get the hang of it, it’s usually pretty easy and you just keep up with it when you notice bits that are dry, have those funky individual knots, or the shape is going wrong. Two mirrors works better than pulling the hair around over the shoulder.

You do want to do a bit of trimming if you get dead or dry ends snipped off because splits can travel upwards. (This unfortunately means I’ve gone from waist length hair to just past the shoulders, but that’s also because it’s being better oiled and that can make the curls tighter.) Usually places cut well above this so you have hydrated hair for sure and an even cut. But if you’re not about having a clean line, you can usually get away with trimming to the point where either doesn’t feel dryer than the rest of the hair and then oiling the ends so the splits don't travel upwards. That’s usually what I do. And doing it myself helps me feel…less controlled.

If you don’t do daily washes (which you shouldn’t. I’m a hypocrite.) a comb through helps distribute scalp oil down the shaft of the hair, protecting it so you can grow it longer and keep it sealed and protected.

Oils and conditioners are good and smell good but also protect hair for growth. Yes, you want them. Yes, even if the shampoo says it’s moisturizing.

Biotin is the classic vitamin supplement people recommend for hair nails and skin, but it shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach or it can hurt. (In my case, it’s also growing back in white. Just food for thought if that bothers you.)

You're all doing amazing and look great.

i'm putting flowers in your hair as we speak.

And I’m handing you my pocket knife because you’re going to need that for the wheels of every rolling chair ever in your life oh my GOD.

Happy Growing!

but like genuinely some people do actually get fucking weird about it and genuinely do seem mad about it. sucks to be you asshole but actually I've had enough people trying to control my hair in wy life so I'm going to grow it as long as i want AND talk about the annoying bits about it.

it's like a trans girl was saying a while ago like "if you even joke about cutting my hair off I'm going to kill you". i stopped going to the hairdresser because i was scared it was going to get cut because I'd grown up with school and family trying to control my hair so fuck off actually.

[medicinemane]

Man, I'm just kind of dazed today

I woke up yesterday around 9am, didn't do much for the day, went to bed... realized it was too hot to fall asleep (cause my window is broken so I can't open it)

So I got up, filled 3 box with papers as I sorted out the magazines and mail

Then I needed to stay up till after 8am so I could go to the post office to return that bowl. Came back and laid down but... you know when your body just feels wired and you really need to sleep but can't? Probably cause it's pumping out hormones to keep me awake to compensate for me being so tired, that's my guess based on how it feels

Anyway, lay down and kind of drift off with a video in the background, but... I think I was just on the verge of sleep but not able to cross over... like dozing at best

Then I hear Bart making noise and look over and he's acting like he's hunting a mouse, and sure enough he was, so he helps me cup it, and then I go take it to a field outside of town to hopefully live a better life... but clearly wasn't sleeping if I'm doing that

And... I'm still up. I think I'm gonna try and take another crack at sleeping... I hope I can do it. Things do at least feel a bit cooler

But yeah, I'm a mess today, gonna be two days worth of dash to look through whenever I get up, and then I can also respond to the couple messages I've got

But oof... hate feeling like this. The non depressed part of me wants to die just because maybe then I could finally rest

[jetii]

#22 with Wrecker x Reader NSFW where team locks them in a closet and leaves for like an hour not knowing they were already together

been writing a lot of angst lately so this was a nice break from the sads. enjoy!

Something Sweet

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Medic!Reader

Words: 4,103

Tags/Warnings: fluff, smut, established relationship, reader has a nickname, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk

Prompt: 22. “Kriff, this closet is smaller than I remembered.” / “Wait, when the hell have you been in here?”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It's sweet, really.

You try not to take it the wrong way, how committed the others are to getting you and Wrecker together. After all, they have no idea. They don't know you're both already...something. Maybe they just think there's a chance the two of you are unaware. That you're both pining for each other, and if they could only give you both a little shove in the right direction, the rest would be up to you.

You can't blame them for not knowing. Wrecker is nothing but respectful and proper around you, keeping a careful distance between the two of you when you're around the others, and it doesn't take much of an effort to seem like just another comrade on his part. He's friendly with everyone, openly affectionate with most. You're one of the guys. And that's all.

Well, it's a little more complicated than that.

But as you see it, it's not your job to explain anything. It's not Wrecker's either, and so you're both playing the parts his brothers have written for you. You're the awkward medic with a crush, and he's the oblivious, lovable trooper who can't see what's right in front of his face.

The first few times the others tried to get you alone with Wrecker, you played along. You let yourself blush when Wrecker was nearby, kept your voice soft and flustered around him, and even let him catch you staring a time or two.

It wasn't hard. Wrecker's eyes are very distracting, especially when they're turned in your direction. And it's not like he had to be told. He's not a great actor, but he does a good enough job at seeming a little clueless. It's enough to make the others laugh, and they all have a good time at your expense.

You're not sure how long this little play is going to continue, or what's going to happen when it comes to a close, but you're determined to enjoy the ride.

And there is plenty to enjoy.

Wrecker is always happy to be a part of any scheme, especially one that gets him closer to you, so the smiles come easy for him. The others are in high spirits too, laughing more, cracking jokes. You can almost feel the tension lifting, and you don't have to say a word.

You know it can't last, but you're determined to keep a lid on it as long as possible. To keep everyone happy.

But this is... a bit much.

As soon as the door to the closet slides shut behind you, leaving you in the dark, you hear the familiar, unmistakable sound of Wrecker's laughter. You've been locked in.

Again.

"Oh, no!" Wrecker cries, trying, and failing, to sound surprised. "Looks like we're stuck here, Doc! Whatever will we do?"

You bite back a chuckle as you turn and bang on the door. "Guys? Come on!"

There's a click as the door locks, followed by the sound of Hunter's voice on the other side. "Oh, hey, sorry, this door's not working! I guess we'll just have to wait until the maintenance droid fixes it."

"I estimate that will take approximately two hours," Tech’s dry voice adds.

"Two hours?!" you hiss.

"Give or take," he replies. "It is hard to say. Maintenance droids aren't exactly known for their efficiency."

"Well, better make yourselves comfortable then," Crosshair's drawl comes through the door next.

You can just picture the four of them standing there outside the door, smirking and giving each other high-fives, proud of their handiwork. You can also picture yourself punching each and every one of them.

"Seriously?" you mutter.

"We'll check in with you in a little bit," Hunter says.

"Have fun!" Echo adds, and the four of them tromp away, still laughing, leaving you and Wrecker locked in.

You turn around and fumble for the light panel, squinting a little when the lights come on, bathing the small closet in a soft, golden glow. Your eyes settle on Wrecker, still standing there, hands clasped behind his back, trying very hard to look innocent. The moment your eyes meet, though, the act crumbles, and a grin spreads over his face

"Hey, Doc," he says, looking pleased. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah," you say, leaning against the wall. "Fancy that."

You're not upset. Well, not much. You know they mean well, and you have to admit, it's kind of sweet. But you're a little tired of this. This is the third time they've tried to lock the two of you in a closet, and they've gotten more obvious with each attempt. They've stopped trying to make up excuses. Instead, they just herd the two of you into some cramped, dark space and shut the door, as if that's going to force the two of you together.

You suppose they're right about that.

"What a day, huh?" Wrecker asks, stepping towards you. He leans his shoulder against the wall beside you, still grinning. "Just the two of us. All alone."

You can't help a smile as you tilt your head back against the wall to look up at him. "I'm glad one of us is enjoying this."

His smile only widens, and he shrugs his massive shoulders. "It’s not that bad. Could be worse."

You look around the closet. There's barely enough room for the two of you, and the shelves are crowded with a variety of odds and ends. You recognize some medical supplies among them, a few things that you haven't used in years. The space feels even smaller with Wrecker's tall, broad body filling it, and you're already starting to feel a little warm. 

"Kriff, this closet is smaller than I remembered.”

“Wait, when the hell have you been in here?” Wrecker demands, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a brow at you.

You smirk, looking up into his eyes, enjoying the way he leans in a little. As much as you want to, you won’t give in. Not yet. You hold his gaze, your expression coy. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He huffs out a laugh, then reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, looking a little nervous.

"I'm just messing with you," you say quickly. "You're the first person I've been locked in here with."

"Lucky me," he says with a smirk.

You bite your lip, unable to resist teasing him a little. "If you play your cards right.”

Wrecker laughs again, a deep, full-bodied sound. It's your favorite sound, the one that makes your heart squeeze every time. The sound makes the closeness easier, the space between you smaller. You don't feel so claustrophobic when Wrecker is smiling down at you, his eyes dancing.

"So, uh... How long you think we're actually gonna be stuck here?" he asks, leaning a little closer.

"Dunno." You shrug, looking around the closet, feigning boredom. "Hours, Tech said."

"Well, isn’t that a shame," Wrecker replies, his voice low. His gaze flicks away from yours, and you watch his eyes trail slowly down the length of your body, lingering at your hips and your chest, and you bite back a sigh. The way his eyes darken as they rove over you, the way he licks his lips and swallows hard before meeting your gaze again sends a wave of heat through your body.

There's no doubt in your mind what's going to happen now.

You let your head fall back, tilting your face toward the ceiling. Your hair falls around your shoulders, and you arch your back a little, stretching. Wrecker sucks in a sharp breath. You smile and turn your face to the side, peering at him through your lashes.

"So,” you start. “Should we do it?"

Wrecker snorts, giving you an incredulous look. "That's how you're gonna ask? Really?"

"Well, what else would you suggest?"

"How 'bout something like..." he clears his throat. His voice drops to a husky murmur, and the sound of it sends a shiver through you. "Hey, Wrecker. You know how we're in this tiny closet, all alone? There's no way anyone would bother us in here, especially not since your brothers have locked the door. Maybe we could..."

"Wrecker, stop," you laugh. "Stop."

"What? Just sayin' what's on your mind," he teases. "C'mon. Say it. Ask me."

"Fine," you groan. You suck in a breath and smile, batting your eyelashes. "Hey, Wrecker. We're all alone in this closet. Want to fuck?"

He chuckles and steps closer. "See, now you're gettin' it."

You shake your head, still smiling, but you don't have time to make another quip. Wrecker closes the distance between you, one hand going to your waist, the other sliding up the back of your neck. He tilts his head and captures your lips with his, and the smile falls from your face.

Your hands fly up, grabbing at his chestplate, and you cling to him as you open your mouth to him. He kisses you hard, and you're breathless by the time he pulls away, trailing his lips down your jaw and neck. He tugs at the collar of your shirt, exposing more skin for his lips to explore, and you moan quietly, tilting your head back and pressing closer.

You're not sure if the others can hear, or if they're just pretending not to, but you've learned to keep your moans quiet, save them for the rare moments you can get Wrecker alone. Even now, your voice is soft, a mere whimper that only Wrecker can hear, but you can't help yourself.

The sound seems to spur Wrecker on, and his teeth scrape across your shoulder. Your hips buck forward, and the hand at your waist slides around, down, and his fingers brush over the front of your pants, teasing.

"Wrecker, please," you whisper, arching against him.

He lifts his head, eyes dark, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Here. Let's get this off," he says, his hands finding the edge of your shirt.

You reach up, helping him pull it over your head. Your arms get tangled, though, and Wrecker laughs, struggling to free you.

"Hold on," he mutters. "Damn shirt, why you gotta be so— aha! There we go!"

Your arms are finally free, and the shirt hits the floor, quickly forgotten. You grab the edge of his chestplate, ready to remove it, but Wrecker has other plans. He's already pulling down your pants, yanking them down past your hips, taking your underwear with them. You gasp, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself as you step out of them, kicking them aside.

"Wrecker—"

He kisses you again, softer this time, his hands going to your bare hips, holding you. You lean against him, your hands roaming, finding the latches for his armor, stripping him quickly. You focus on the lower half, too impatient to strip off the rest, and as soon as you've stripped him to his blacks, he pulls away, turning you.

You grab onto the shelf, and Wrecker's hands cup your ass, spreading you. Your breath catches, and a quiet moan escapes your lips as his thumb slips between your legs.

"Shit, you're already so wet," he murmurs, his voice low. He gives a quiet laugh. "Bet they can hear us. Bet they're listening."

"Fuck," you groan, resting your head against the shelves, heat flooding your cheeks.

"You like that?" Wrecker asks, his thumb moving faster, his fingers teasing your entrance. "You want them to hear you, huh? Want them to know what we're doing?"

You whine softly and push back against his hand.

"Yeah, thought so," Wrecker says. He slides a finger inside you, making you gasp, and a moment later, he adds a second, his thumb still moving.

You whimper, biting down on your lip to stifle the noise. His fingers move fast, and he doesn't ease into it, his movements eager, almost rough. But he knows you can take it, knows you like it. Your hips are already rocking back against him, fucking yourself on his fingers, and his free hand goes to your hip, pulling you back harder.

It's a lot. Wrecker's always like this, his desire for you overwhelming, and he can't seem to get enough. Sometimes he takes it slow, savoring every moment, drawing it out until you're shaking and begging, and even then, he doesn't always give in.

Other times, he's like this.

But the others have never heard it before, not like this. You're not sure if Wrecker is putting on a show, or if the thrill of being caught has him just as worked up as you, but he doesn't let up. His fingers are relentless, curling just right inside you, hitting that spot that makes you weak. And his thumb is still circling faster, the pressure almost too much, too good, making you dizzy.

"Shit, that's hot," Wrecker groans. "I can hear it, how wet you are."

Your cheeks are burning, but your hips rock harder, the sound of Wrecker's fingers slipping in and out of you is obscenely loud.

"Feels good," you whimper, "Wrecker, fuck, just like that..."

"Yeah, you like it?" He leans over, kissing the back of your neck. "I know you do. Always so good for me, aren't you, Doc? Always so wet, so good, you're perfect."

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. Wrecker's dirty talk always does you in. His words wash over you, sending a shiver down your spine, and the heat between your legs is getting more and more unbearable.

"That's it," he mutters. "Keep going. Fuck yourself on my fingers."

You don't have any trouble following his orders. You rock your hips, pushing back and meeting him thrust for thrust, his fingers filling you perfectly. They curl just right, making your toes curl. Wrecker's thumb is a blur between your legs, and you're close. So close.

"Wrecker, fuck," you whine, clutching at the shelf. You're just about to fall over the edge when suddenly his fingers are gone.

You cry out, jerking back, searching for his hand. You find it at your hip, holding you steady, keeping you from falling. You try to catch your breath, to ask him why, but before you can, you feel him pressing against you. The bulge of his cock is hot, even through his blacks, and you can't help but grind against him.

He's still for a moment, letting you rock back against him, the friction making you shiver. You can feel how wet you are, smearing his blacks.

"Kriff, Wrecker, please," you moan. "Just fuck me."

"Gettin' ahead of yourself," he growls, his grip tightening on your hip.

"Please," you beg, desperate, writhing against him.

Wrecker chuckles, low and warm, and his hand moves, reaching down. You hear the familiar sound of his blacks being pulled down, and then the head of his cock is nudging against your folds.

"Wrecker, oh," you gasp, arching your back. He takes his time, dragging his cock through your folds and letting the tip tease at your entrance. You can feel his precum mixing with your own wetness, his cock slipping against you, coating himself. You moan, trying to push back, to take him, but Wrecker holds you in place, stopping you.

"Wrecker, please," you pant, looking over your shoulder.

He's leaning over you, his eyes dark, watching your face. He grins, his tongue poking out between his teeth, his eyes dancing.

"Yeah, yeah. Gotta get a good look, though," he murmurs. "Always look so pretty when you're beggin'."

"Wrecker—"

His hips jerk forward, pushing just the tip inside you. Your jaw drops, and a groan spills out, unbidden. Your eyes squeeze shut, and the sound is followed by a whimper as he pushes a little further, stretching you open.

"That's it," he murmurs, his hand tight on your hip, holding you in place. The other hand reaches around, sliding between your legs, finding the bud of nerves that he's been neglecting. His fingers brush over it, light and teasing, and the sudden pleasure makes your legs tremble.

"Oh, oh," you gasp, jerking against him.

"So fuckin' tight," Wrecker groans, his hand moving, stroking slowly. His cock inches deeper, stretching you open. It's a lot, it's so much, but he's careful, taking his time, letting you adjust to his size.

"Wrecker, please, please, please,” you whimper.

"There you go," he mutters, his voice tight. "Just like that, Doc. Just a little more."

You bite down on your lip, fighting the urge to moan. The further he sinks into you, the harder it is. It feels good, so good, and you can't stop the sounds from escaping.

"That's it," Wrecker whispers, his hand still working between your legs, his fingers sliding over the swollen nub. "There we go. Almost all the way, c'mon, take it, c'mon..."

You let out a soft, choked-off moan, feeling him slide deeper, deeper. His fingers flick against you, rubbing tight circles, and you can feel the tension building, coiling in your belly.

"Please, Wrecker," you pant, rocking back against him, trying to take him, desperate to feel him filling you completely. "Fuck me, please, fuck me."

"Shit," he hisses, and the hand at your hip tightens. He jerks his hips forward, and he slides the rest of the way inside you, filling you completely.

The moment his hips meet your ass, you're finished. You feel him bottom out, his cock pressing deep, and the pressure between your legs builds, and bursts. The sound that tears from your throat is a cross between a moan and a scream, and your entire body tenses, your walls fluttering around him. 

Wrecker curses, his hips jerking forward, but he stays buried deep, letting you ride it out. He keeps his hand still, but his fingers press down, adding to the pressure, and your legs shake. The orgasm rolls over you in waves, leaving you gasping for air as you cling to the shelf.

"Fuck," Wrecker groans. "That's so kriffing hot, Doc. Did you just...did I make you...?"

You nod, unable to speak, still twitching, aftershocks rippling through you. Wrecker lets out a low chuckle, and his hips rock, pulling out a few inches before pushing back in, slow and deep.

"Yeah? You gonna do it again?"

"Oh," you gasp, nodding, your head spinning. "Yes, please, Wrecker, yes."

He laughs, then, louder, a full-bodied sound. "Alright, then. Guess we better get started."

You manage a laugh, breathless and delirious, but it's cut short when Wrecker's hips start to move. He slides out slowly, his cock dragging through your walls, before pushing back in, just as deep. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. Your eyes are squeezed shut, every nerve ending is on fire, every movement sending another wave of pleasure through you.

You can feel Wrecker's breath on the back of your neck, hot and uneven, and his chest rumbles as he lets out a low groan. His hips speed up, rocking into you, and you push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. His cock stretches you perfectly, his length filling you in a way that only he can.

"Kriff," Wrecker growls. "You're so tight, fuck, that's it, c'mon."

His hips slam forward, harder, and his pace increases, the sound of his thrusts echoing off the walls. The shelves rattle, and there's the clink of glass, but you don't care.

"Yes," you moan, bracing yourself, pushing back against him. Your eyes fly wide, and you bite back a squeal when Wrecker's fingers move again, rubbing you faster.

"C'mon, c'mon," he pants. "Gonna make you come again."

"Wrecker, oh, I'm close," you whimper. “Please.”

"You're so cute when you're needy," Wrecker chuckles, and then he's pressing close, his mouth against the side of your neck. He leaves kisses, hot and messy, across your skin, and his thrusts are growing rougher, more erratic.

It's all you can do to hold on, his fingers still working between your legs, and he's pushing you closer, closer, each thrust bringing you nearer to the edge. Your legs are trembling, your heart pounding, and you feel like you might explode.

"Fuck," you moan.

"Close?"

"Yes," you whimper, nodding frantically. "I'm...I'm gonna come again."

"Good," he growls. "Do it."

You cry out, and his fingers speed up, flicking against you, faster, faster. Your thighs are soaked, and the air is heavy with the scent of sex, the wet sounds of his cock pounding into you, the harsh, ragged gasps of his breath.

It's too much, too good, and his movements are growing clumsy, his thrusts harder, rougher. You can feel him swelling inside you, his cock throbbing, and his breaths are coming faster.

"Fuck," he pants, his fingers moving, rubbing circles. "Fuck, Doc, gonna come soon."

"Oh," you moan. Your entire body tightens, your toes curling, and the heat in your abdomen is almost unbearable. Your legs shake, and then, just as his teeth sink into your shoulder, you snap.

You let out a muffled scream, burying your face in the crook of your arm. The noise is high-pitched, a whine that quickly turns into a whimper as your whole body spasms. You cling to the shelves, the only thing keeping you upright, and the world spins.

Wrecker groans, and his hips jerk forward, once, twice, before stuttering, slamming deep. He presses his forehead to your shoulder and comes with a growl, his hands on your waist, holding you still. You feel the warmth spreading through you as his cum fills you, and it’s enough to send a last shiver through you, a final weak burst of pleasure. You sag, going limp, and Wrecker's grip on you is the only thing holding you up.

He's breathing hard, too, his chest rising and falling against your back. He holds you close, and you sigh, letting your eyes drift shut.

After a moment, he chuckles, nuzzling the side of your neck. "Feel good?"

"Yeah." You giggle, wiggling your hips, and you hear him groan.

"You're so kriffin' cute." Wrecker gives you one last squeeze, and then he's pulling out, his fingers moving between your legs to catch the rush of wetness that follows. You shudder and gasp at the sensation, and he chuckles.

"Hold on," he says. "Gotta get cleaned up. Here, just stay there."

You can only hum in response, too exhausted and sated to argue. You glance over your shoulder, watching as he steps back and starts searching for a rag or some towels. You catch a glimpse of his cock, still glistening with your combined fluids, and you bite back a grin.

"Here, lemme get you," Wrecker says, crouching beside you.

He reaches between your legs, cleaning away the mess, and then gently wipes the rest of the evidence from your thighs. You giggle as he straightens up, and you reach out, grabbing his shoulder for support as you stand.

He's got a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and he winks at you as he starts to clean himself up. "Well, that was fun, huh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help laughing. "Yeah, Wrecker. That was fun."

He flashes you a grin and reaches down to pick up your shirt, handing it to you. You pull it on quickly and turn around, watching as he tucks himself back into his blacks and fixes his armor, making himself decent.

"You think they heard us?"

Wrecker's grin widens. "I'm pretty sure the whole base heard you."

"Hey!"

"What?" Wrecker laughs. "You're not exactly quiet."

You groan, rolling your eyes, and reach up to fix his collar. "And whose fault is that?"

"Mine," Wrecker agrees. "And I'm very proud of that."

He's smiling, and you can't help but return it. He reaches out and takes your hand, tugging you closer, and he wraps an arm around you. You lean into him, letting him hold you for a moment, enjoying the quiet.

But it's not long before the silence is broken by the sound of Hunter's voice, shouting from outside.

"Hey, uh, are you two done?"

You sigh, resting your head against Wrecker's shoulder. "Guess we better let them know."

Wrecker's arm tightens around you, and his other hand goes to your hip. He pulls you flush against him and tilts your chin up with his thumb. He kisses you again, softly, and your eyes flutter closed.

"Let's give them a minute," he says with a grin. "Let 'em sweat."

You laugh and close your eyes, listening to the muffled voices outside, and you lean into Wrecker.

"Yeah," you agree, your lips brushing his. "Let's."

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@808tsuika

[contentloadingandstuff]

Yae Miko x Ganyu-like!Male!Kitsune!Reader

CW: None. Pure fluff.

For Miko, there's nothing cuter than you in the entire world. 

Kitsune tend to be confident, slightly malicious and crafty by nature, yet there you are. A complete opposite of her, and the traditional traits of the Kitsune race as a whole. 

But Miko? She is all for it. 

You’re quite the shy person, making you especially vulnerable to teasing. Even a slight remark sent your way is able to knock you off balance, leaving you flustered and blushy. Your occasional attempts at turning the tables usually end with Miko being able to effortlessly steer the conversation in her favor, and use your teasing attempts against you. 

Words are one thing, but physical contact? Sometimes Miko is genuinely worried you will melt or set on fire after she does something as ordinary as holding your hand or tracing her fingers along your back or neck areas. Maybe this timidness of yours, cute as it is, has some downsides? Luckily for you, Miko doesn’t exploit your weak spot to keep you a constant flustered mess. It’s not like she has the heart to. 

Why? Because you work so, so much. How can you do nine or ten hour shifts on a regular, weekly basis? And spend all this time slouching over paperwork too? For Miko, two forms to fill is a personal tragedy, but you seem to be able to handle whole mountains of documents with unshaken resolve. A truly fascinating creature you are. 

She doesn’t like the overtime you constantly take on, however. The core of the issue isn’t that you’re a pushover - though Miko is genuinely worried that your lack of confidence will get you in trouble some day - but that your work ethic, admirable as it is, stands as fairly rigid and harmful to yourself. Miko tries her best to convince you to change - she tries to reason with you, bribe you with extra affection or threaten you with being grumpy if you don't come home when you should. Sometimes it works, most times it doesn't. Luckily, being close friends with Ei has benefits - a few right words whispered into her ear will land you some much needed leave. 

When you finally return home, so adorably spent and sleepy, Miko won't spoil the daylights out of you. No - she will spoil not only the daylights, but also nightlights, dawnlights and dusklights. You will always be greeted with a warm meal and a warm bath. As your wife, it's her duty to care for you and reward all your efforts, no? Her skittish little husband brings out quite a motherly side of her out into the light. And rightfully so - you deserve more than the entire world. 

Once you’re full and relaxed, Miko’s going to cuddle you right to sleep. She’ll gladly let you rest your cute, weary face on her lap or her belly. As you drift off, Miko will play with your hair and ramble about whatever comes to her mind in a whispered tone, marveling at how peaceful your sleeping features are. 

While certainly not the typical Kitsune, you're certainly a fine specimen. Big, fluffy ears, beautiful tails and an even more cuddly fox form make you all the more precious (and handsome) in her eyes. But you don't seem to share her opinion. You are always noticeably shy when somebody mentions your unique features, even more so than usual. It's all about standing out, you try to tell her, but she always silences you with a kiss. Miko will always tell you that your ears are a point of pride and a source of respect for you, not a stigma. The respectful interest in your person doesn't seem to convince you of the benefits of being a fox envoy, so maybe her attention will, hm? Expect a lot of care directed at your special features. Miko will not only caress them, but also groom them. Such beautiful fur needs proper maintenence, and it's her privilage to indulge you.

You’re a bit more vertically challenged than her, but she doesn’t mind. Not at all. Your compact size makes you much easier to handle, and - aside from the obvious teasing opportunities - give her just the right tool to take care of your health. Finished work, but you want to do some at home? Nope. She’s going to grab you and carry you away to bed where she will cuddle all your senseless overworking impulses out of you. You say you need to work on a weekend? Good luck trying to get out of her iron grip and the deathold of her five fluffy tails in the morning. Miko is far stronger than she looks!

Unlike her, You’re quite innocent. While her idea of spending the evening after a nice date is, shall we say, a bit “for adults only”, you? Battleships, cookies and hot cocoa - that is what’s on your mind. Sometimes, Miko can’t help but chuckle at you and shake her head in disbelief. How can you be so cute so effortlessly? 

Your natural gentleness is very adorable. Miko can’t recall a time when you were raising your voice, aside from the one time when she took you on a date to the Test Of Courage. It was your idea initially - maybe you wanted to impress her by showing your bravery? She’s not sure. At first, Miko was quite amused at how anxious you were, but as soon as she realized just how tightly you held on to her, she got you out of there. Aside from lots of cuddles and kisses to calm your heart, you got a stern yet gentle lecture. 

Miko loves you as is, and there’s nothing she would ever change about you. 

Thanks for reading!

[infantilebliss]

Full Regression or Synthesis

I always think that there are two roads for an Adult Baby to end up in if given the opportunity to be permanently regressed by someone who cares for them: they can find themselves either finding all of their adulthood be nearly replaced by their second babyhood, or have the two fuse together into something new all together.

Having an adult be turned into a permanent baby is adorable in its own right. Seeing all of the negative aspects be flushed out of their system like stress, anxiety, and other factors out of them... replaced with a relatively simplistic softnessness that is complimented with factors of trust, assurance, love, care, and knowing that they will be ok. One where, if allowed by their caretaker, can be allowed to do less and less for themselves when it comes to self-maintenance and find themselves regress as deep as they want, even if they are back to babbling and gurgling at their loving caretaker. There is something so sweet and wholesome about someone who is willing to be pushed down into such a vulnerable state, being given so much foundation and care until they find themselves either full of energy or always sleepy for the rest of eternity~

One one hand, you can have a little one that is given the full baby treatment. No more adulthood for them: complicated toys are replaced with the biggest fluffy stuffies, the ranchy or violent movies are replaced with baby shows, and all their meals and daily wears are as infantile as they can be. Instead of being treated like an adult, the adult baby is given the full baby treatment down to the tee. Some little ones are definitely little cuties that are meant to be given such a foundation, especially little ones that really desire and need it. Some want to simply regress fully back to a place where they can truly feel calm and happy, and need to be given the full baby treatment by their caretaker. Sure, some might do less than babyish things with their stuffies, but for the most part you aren't going to expect them to do anything but chew and drool on them when snuggled up to one in her crib with the biggest swaddle around her waist and lullabies and dancing stars are above her crib~

Then there is the other side... the one where a little one is very much in desire to have their quenches such as smoking or other vices be replaced with pacifiers, to have someone fully pad them up and take care of them, and always dress cutely and full of fleece for warmth and lace and ribbons for adorableness... but still wants to ride the roller coasters that are much too big for any baby. That still want to enjoy a nice drink to relax their heads when cuddling with their caretaker (even if it is inside their baby bottle~) and getting fuzzy together in their heads~ To be able to enjoy and snuggle together in front of an adult movie whilst the adult baby is thickly fluffed. One where, even if they want to go back to babbling and making little spit bubbles for their caretaker, the proper adult still respects and values their little heads... Always trying to fulfill both her adult and babyish needs until they are not just her adult or babyish needs... they are simply one and the same. A hybridization where she might go out in a beautiful dress, but it wouldn't be uncommon for her binky clip to be inside her dress waiting to comfort her, and thick paddling that crinkles alongside the many ruffles that are inside the otherwise adult looking dress~

I genuinely enjoy the idea of having adult infants that are both of these~ Having a little one that gets the desire to go all the way down the path of regression... and the other where the thesis and anti-thesis become a unique form of synthesis all together~ The thought of an adult infant chewing their little toes and smiling behind it as she gets her hair stroked as she wiggles in just her pampers and a coating of finger paint all over her is just as beautiful as an adult infant who is seen dressed in a similar manner and making a cute little mess under their chin, but enjoys writing screenplays, books, or drawing elegantly in her free time, her nursery lullabies being replaced with some harder music as she sucks her binky as she uses one of her massive stuffies as a seat~ A little adult that is snuggled up to the couch with a bottle of milk after being dressed up and watching her favourite teletubbies is just as beautiful as a little one that is dressed similarly, but is enjoying horror shows with her dada with a bottle of milk and vodka~

[gallusrostromegalus]

Any weird Soul Society specific superstions for care and maintenance of one's Zanpaktou?

There's a joke rumor that goes around Shinigami Academy that if you've tried everything else and your zanpaktou STILL isn't talking to you, you can always try getting into mortal danger so it has to come out and save your ass to save your own. The faculty loudly maintains that is false and even considering it is a great way to fuck up your spiritual connection with it. The problem is that unfortunately, the rumor is true- even the most stubborn zanpaktou tend to have at least one survival instinct and will force their wielders to fight their way out of a life-or-death situation. But the teachers are right that it WILL permanently fuck up your relationship with a sword if you intentionally harm yourself for it's attention, and it's important to note that just because your zanpaktou manifested, that doesn't mean either of you are strong or skilled enough to get out of your dipshit situation you caused.

A more commonly advised bonding practice is to practice putting trust in your sword and learning about its preferences by picking one day a month where it's in charge and you do everything it says. EVERYTHING. If your sword tells you to walk off a cliff, start walking - the key here is to teach the sword spirit that not only do you trust it, it's also responsible for you and can't go around giving you bad advice for shits and giggles. Most sword spirits never ask their wielders to do something dangerous, but they do ask to go see a weird movie or for their person to eat an unusual food so they can taste it by proxy, and thus the wielder gets used to trusting them and thinking of the spirit as a person unto themselves.

Doing proper maintenance on your weapon is an important bonding activity and the first time a zanpaktou has to be taken to a smithy to be properly re-sharpened is often a nerve-wracking experience for both sword and shinigami, a bit like a child's first doctor's appointment.

A practice that is not *recommended* but most people do anyway and that works is sharing gossip. Sword spirits can see each other when they choose to manifest, and have friendships and rivalries and THAT BITCH FROM THAUMATURGY CLASS YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE - and likewise, since sword spirits spend so much time resting they want to hear all the updates on the wielder's friends and family and rivals and OH MY GOD YOU NEED TO HEAR WHAT THAT MORON WHO TEACHES O-CHEM DID NOW-

Sometimes, a sword will bond with someone very deeply, very fast. There's a superstition that shinigami who bond with and master their zanpaktou quickly are either destined for greatness or to burn out and drop out of the court guard just as fast. Neither is true, actually. They're not prone to grand destiny or burnout any more than people who take a normal or long time to bond with their zanpaktou. They are more likely to get thrown out of the guard for really weird crimes though.

On the other end of the spectrum, if it takes a long time to bond with your zanpaktou, there might be something wrong with you. The rumor isn't *totally* unfounded- the main thing that keeps people from bonding with others is, you know, unresolved emotional issues, the same thing that prevents less stabby relationships. But it's just as likely that it's the sword is the one that's snake fuckingly crazy.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Hiii, I'm back to do regular pick-a-pile readings! In todays reading I am working with Apollo to send the collective this message. Take what resonates and leave behind anything that doesn't. Thank you all 🩵 -ghost

PILE ONE

Crystal: Yellow Aventurine

Astrology: Leo, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Gemini

🧡💛🌻🍯🥮🥧🏺🔑🌟💫☀️🦂💰👘🧶🎃🤬🚼☣️📙🏮🏵️🥉🏑🍺🍹🍊🍋

Hello, pile one! I see you have been looking for your intuition. You have been searching high and low. Purchasing all manner of metaphysical assistance. You seem to think you aren’t powerful. You believe you are simple and small. My friend you are very mistaken. Your third eye is open and active. There are two thing about intuition that I had to learn that I will now teach you. The first thing is that you must trust yourself. Activating your intuition is only one step in the journey. The second thing is that you must be grounded to be able to use your intuition. This lesson I’m still learning. You must establish yourself to yourself to make any progress. I see you crave progress over everything else. Focus on who you are and focus on trusting the person you are. You have done good work so far. The journey is just a little different than what you expected. You can’t escape yourself in spirituality. Forgetting who you are is much more counter intuitive than you might believe.

PILE TWO

Crystal: Tigers Eye

Astrology: Pisces, Cancer, Taurus, Libra

💚🫛🥒🍀🐉🪲👒🪖🔫♻️🥗🥬🍃🦚🐍🐢🪀🧩⛰️🔋🪛✅📗🏡🚛🏄🏿‍♂️

Hi there, pile two! You have been looking for a battle to wage. You have had to fight a lot in your life. You have probably been fighting since you were a child. You fought so hard back then. You are blinded by the war you fought, my friend. You have aleady won your war. The enemy is defeated and yet you still look for the next flying fist to dodge. You cannot fight anymore. There is no one to battle. There is a new goal you must strive for. You have been such a strong soldier for a long time. Now that it is done you must rest. You must heal. You must clean your wounds and take the medicine required to get better. You have suffered enough. After war, when soldiers come home, it is understandable that they might not know how to come down from shellshock. They might have gotten physical or mental wounds that are in need of proper care and attention. It is time to learn to cope and learn how to fill you cup. I must reiterate, you fight is over. Your war is finished. You are safe. You have been grasping for safety while clinging to your violence. They cannot exist in tandum. Please sleep, my dear soldier. Please. Once you decide the war is over in your mind you will be able to finally relax. You will find things you enjoy. You will share peaceful moments with yourself again.

PILE THREE

Crystal: Black Tourmaline

Astrology: Aries, Capricorn, Virgo, Aquarius

❤️‍🩹🩶🏓🍉🦴🍚🍓🌹🐚🐁🐓🎒🧣⛑️💃🏼💋💯🗞️🔍💌📮🧲🪓⏰🚢🥁🎸⚾️🥡🥢🎂

Hi, pile three! Welcome to your reading. You have been carrying the weight of the world in your arms and I know you hate to admit it but you are tired. You are only one person. I understand you have needed to be independent. I understand you have been searching for help but my dear you have been refusing it at every opportunity. Your friends are here for you and you won’t open up. They are knocking at your door. They are asking to see you and love you. You seem to believe accepting their help makes you weak. Darling, that is not the case. You are human. You are not a machine and honestly even if you were machines need maintenance. Machines can’t always self-maintenance. You need help and you want it. Please accept it the next time it comes around. I see you might have some religious trauma or some kind of self-sacrificing wound. You are not a tool. You are not livestock. You are not alone. Humans are evolutionarily not solitary creatures. They need companionship. Humans are pack animals which means they need other humans. Every instance when a human is left completely alone usually the human goes insane. Talk about your hardships with your friends. Release some of what you are carrying on your shoulders. Let go of the mindset that you must sacrifice your mind or your body to be considered a good or successful human. You are already a good human without over-exerting yourself.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

heyyy it’s me again😓

i love ur writing sorryy😭 whenever it’s more convenient for you tho could i ask for yan zhongli (im obsessed with that man omfg), ayato and pantalone (again im obsessed w him sorry🥀) with a darling who is like, super high-maintenance? for an example they need to have their hair and nails done or they REFUSE(including them) to go near anyone because they think they don’t look good enough

stay safe, take breaks and make sure u are healthy above everything tho!!💗

-🐚

so i've never been into any of the hair and nails stuff (got my nails done professionally once in middle school, got sick of em after a week and ripped em all off) so i don't know how correct the lingo is, i kinda just went based off what i know from my sister, so i hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including a small bit of delusional behavior, a small bit of obsessive behaviors, no specific pronouns used for the reader but a lot of mentions of reader having their hair/nails/lashes being done, and the rest is just sorta soft. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Zhongli, if you think this man has the mora to pay for anything you’re funny. There is an upside to this though, while he can’t pay to have you get your nails and hair done, or your lashes or for whatever else you wanna get, he can learn to do it for you. Hair and lashes take him a while as they can be more finicky but nails he picks up instantly. Not only is it cheaper but you can describe to him exactly what you want and he’ll be able to do it because he understands you and knows what you mean when you describe things. Plus you don’t have to worry about looking good when you get them done, you can just hang around in your pajamas until everything is finished.

Zhongli listened as you described the design you wanted on your nails, sorting through the assortment of polishes he had collected over his time with you. He’d do anything to please you, and while he couldn’t pay for the things you loved, he could certainly learn to do it for you. He understood wanting to maintain a certain image to the public but he’ll always insist that you look your best when you’re just you. When your hair hasn’t been done in a while, no fake lashes, and when your nails are just painted, no extra things on it. He doesn’t mind appearances, finding that he’s lived too long to base his relationship off something as simple as that, but he does appreciate both sides of you. While he’ll gladly chat about things while he does your nails or gossip while he does your hair, he’ll occasionally remind you that regardless of how you look, he’s always going to love you.

Yandere!Ayato is on top of it, like he schedules and pays for everything. He hires only the best and has them come to you, so that you can get the proper treatment you deserve in the comfort of the Kamisato Estate. You have personal stylists who do your nails, your hair, lashes, wardrobe updates, anything you want and they can do it. They also have some of the hottest gossip about the happenings in Inazuma, giving a proper salon treatment everytime they’re around.

You weren’t sure how Ayato made time to always schedule your appointments and such, keeping more on top of them than you did some days, but you weren’t about to complain about it. Your nail tech and hair stylist were amazing at their jobs, catering to your every whim and doing a phenomenal job at that, like they were born for this kind of work. The stories they brought with them were always just as great, the latest happenings around the city and the nation as a whole, who was doing what now and such on and so forth. Ayato would come to check in on you occasionally throughout your appointment, checking that everything was going well. And of course, when it’s done he expects you to come to his office and show off. He doesn’t care if you interrupt anything, to him you’re his top priority always. Plus he loves to see his darling all dolled up, feeling like the prettiest person in all of Inazuma. In his opinion, you always are, dolled up or not.

Yandere!Pantalone appreciates your intense take on your looks as appearances are a huge thing in his line of work, both on the business aspect and the intimidation aspect. He wants people to see that his accumulated wealth doesn’t go to waste, that he didn’t work for nothing. No, he uses his mass amount of mora to spoil his beloved, someone he has no problem writing checks or opening his wallet for. Anyone else can mind their own, his money is yours. The only downside to this is that he’s a horribly busy man, he’ll find whatever stylists you want and find some way to bring them to the Palace so you can have your appointments in the security of the Harbingers, but it’s up to you to schedule the appointments and keep track of when you’ll need to see them again. Just make sure you tell him when they are when you go to flaunt your new hairstyle and nail’s to him.

Pantalone’s soft smile spread just a bit farther across his face as you came bounding into his office, a bright smile of your own. You had just gotten your hair done and nails touched up and he could tell you were back to feeling like yourself again. While he appreciated all your looks and sides, he loved seeing you smiling and happy, and if that meant spending all this money for you to get pampered, he didn’t mind. He didn’t understand a lot of the words you used as you described what they did to your hair and nails, but he happily listened anyway, his delicate smile never faltering as you retold the whole chain of events. Even if his smile was often for show, when you were around it was never more genuine. He holds your hands in his larger, gloved ones as he looks over your nails, his fingers lightly tracing over the designs with an amused glimmer in his eyes. You were certainly something, and he intended to keep that bright light of yours shining.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The safety of your embrace (part 2)

GIF by lasaraconor

Arondir x reader. This is part two of two.

Set before the beginning of series one. Descriptions of nightmares and sleep troubles.

This fic is dedicated to @eowyn7023.

*****

You wake up hours later, already late for your next assignment, feeling even more tired than before. Your head hurts as if a band of Dwarves were pickaxing it, and your movements feel sluggish; when at midday you reach the kitchens for lunch, you spill a cup of light ale on your clean uniform and it takes you several seconds to realise you’re supposed to do something about it. 

Later that day you have an archery practice session, as usual monitored by Revion; you have barely the strength to draw the bow, and not only none of your arrows hits the centre of the target, but one of them even misses the straw filled sack altogether, something that hadn’t happened since your first month after enlistment. The watchwarden, who had unfortunately chosen that very moment to walk beside you, meets your eyes with an unimpressed gaze; you look away, blushing furiously, already dreading the night to come.

By sundown you can barely keep yourself upright, and have stumbled into your comrades -or a wall. It hurts- at least three times because you couldn’t concentrate on your movements enough to avoid it. You have just realised that you have no more leaves, nor the time to ask for more and have them delivered to you, to keep awake during your second night shift, but in your heart you know that even if you did, if you put a whole tree in your mouth, it would change nothing. Elves are the most resilient and durable of the Free Folks, but even they need sleep, like they need food and water, to live; both your mind and body are at the very limits of their endurance, and if you don’t allow yourself to rest you’ll lose your mind, or worse you’ll fall asleep in the middle of the day in front of everyone. 

How could you do this to yourself? You are a soldier, and you are responsible for the security of every other Elf living within it, like each of them is also responsible for yours; the inattentiveness and physical weakness brought by the lack of sleep could put dozens of Elves at risk in case of Orc attack - or Men rebellion. You didn’t choose this, you would happily sleep soundly seven hours per night if you could, so as to carry out your duties to the best of your abilities, but you can’t. Nightmares keep plaguing you almost every night, and even during your brief day naps, and the insomnia, caused by the fact you always struggle to go back to sleep after a bad dream, is not the only problem; you don’t rest well, waking up still tired and not back to full strength. 

Every night is worse than the one before; like even the best weapon gets rusty, and its blade dull, if a warrior keeps using it for years without proper maintenance, an Elf, or any creature actually, needs to take care of their body and mind in order to function. You aren’t, at all, and you haven’t for some time, and you shiver to think what consequences that deficiency might have. 

Unfortunately, you still haven’t found a new place to sleep away from your room, which means that tomorrow night you’ll be in trouble; you need sleep, at least one night of long, uninterrupted rest, otherwise you’ll lose your mind and won’t be able to help your comrades in case of necessity. Revion has already noticed there is something wrong with you, both with your results during training and your behaviour in general, and the last thing you need is for him to suspect something is amiss - or to dismiss you from the garrison because you’re not at the same level as the others. You need to find a solution, quickly; but how?

Still, you are not even sure you’ll reach tomorrow night, because it’s the one approaching that scares you the most - your second night shift in a row. You present yourself at your post, ready to do your duty even if it means paying it with your blood…

… and you fall asleep.

The night is calm, less cold than one would expect in the middle of the winter, a myriad of stars casting sufficient light to make the guards’ work easier. You’ve tried everything you could think of -walking back and forth in the hope that the movement of your body would also keep your mind active, pinching yourself until it hurts, even filling your waterskin with cold water to sprinkle on your face- but Irmo’s power is inexorable and impossible to avoid, and after you have fought valiantly for an hour the Valar comes to take you in his arms, filling your mind with pleasant dreams in which you are still young, and innocent, in the company of your family, your heart free from guilt and shame…

“(name)! (name), you need to wake up!”

So deep was your sleep, it takes you a while to wake up, even though as a soldier you have been trained to be ready for battle at any moment, and when your eyes finally open, and you become vaguely aware of the hand urgently shaking you by the arm, you need even longer to realise the thing in front of you is Arondir’s face, looking worried and anxious. “You need to wake up! Revion is coming!”

No nightmare has ever made you scream like you’re about to do now; now that your roommate, comrade and friend -this is what you are by now, but you’re not sure that will be enough to earn you his silence regarding your unjustifiable conduct- has found you sleeping, deeply even!, when alertness and vigilance is of the utmost importance. You hadn’t even realised he would be on duty tonight as well.

“Arondir, I… I can explain…” you babble as you let him help you up to your feet; you don’t remember sitting down, which means you must have fallen on your rump while already fast asleep, your quiver abandoned on the stone pavement “I am so sorry, I… I didn’t mean…”

Arondir quickly interrupts you. “It’s alright.” he says, and then winces, as if realising the absurdity of words “Médhor came to warn us, the watchwarden is coming up for a surprise inspection; you need to be awake.”

Surprise inspections are a habit of Revion’s, you have been informed by the comrades who have been serving under him longer than you have, the watchwarden visiting the soldiers on guard duty in the middle of their shift -or even in the middle of the night, when he could be in his bed sleeping- to make sure they’re carrying out their duties satisfactorily. You hurry to assume the correct position, sword by your side, eyes focused on the fortunately silent and still plain in front of you.

“Thank you.” you murmur, unable to look your friend in the eyes, and he simply pats your arm before returning to his post.

Revion joins you five minutes later. “Something to report, (name)?” “Nothing, sir; all quiet.”

“Good.”

You let yourself sigh in relief as soon as the soft sound of the watchwarden’s steps has left your ears, but you know you are not safe - far from it; Arondir might not be the sort of Elf who talks ill of his comrades behind their back, especially not with the watchwarden, but the simple fact that he, a respected and stalwart soldier, saw you sleeping while on duty, makes you burn with shame. What if he decides to write home about it, tell his family and friends, until the whole village knows? You don’t think you could ever overcome the humiliation…

You somehow survive the night without falling asleep again, but once more, when you rise after the few hours of rest you had been allowed, you feel worse than before - exhausted, confused, awkward. Can an Elf die of tiredness? You’re not sure, but part of you would not mind finding out - at least, in that case, you’d be allowed to rest as much as you need. 

Despite the burning shame, you force yourself to confront Arondir, who you at least owe your thanks for having saved you from Revion’s ire; you meet near the stables on a cloudy, melancholic morning, the sort of day you don’t expect good things to happen in.

“There is really no need; I know you would have done the same for me.” he says simply, in that kind, modest attitude he has. Arondir is the sort of Elf who doesn’t ask for thanks or praises; he simply does what he thinks is right, whatever the consequences “I have been meaning to ask, (name)... are you well?”

“I am, thank you. I, err, it was my second night shift in a row, and sometimes I get sleepy when I eat too much at dinner…”

“You don’t need to justify yourself either; I’m not blaming you, and I’m not the commander.”

“No, but you are probably the best soldier in this garrison, and my friend; I know what I did was inexcusable, but I’d hate for you to have a bad opinion of me.”

Arondir reassures he never could; he knows well what it means to feel exhausted, dearly wishing the dawn -or the sunset- would come soon so that one could go rest, and regardless you are comrades, you should always support and help yourself when you can.

“Maybe next time you’ll be the one saving my hide, after I fall asleep.” he jokes, before quickly sobering up “To be honest, I wasn’t only speaking about last night. Forgive me, but you seem… out of sorts, so to speak; distracted. Not in the sense you don’t pay attention to your duties, mind you; rather… as if there was something that worried you. I thought that perhaps you had received ill news from home.”

If only you still had people to write to you from home. “No, it’s not that. Well, I…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to; but if you need help, or just… someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

It’s so kind of him, so generous to offer to share his time, most of which is already occupied with duties and worries, with you, not because he cares about your problems but rather out of simple interest in your well-being. Gratitude fills your eyes with tears, and for a moment you are actually tempted to accept his offer - to tell him how fatigued, drained, you are, unable to sleep and even more to rest, of the nightmares that plague you and of how you fear this will end up affecting your job as a soldier - it already is, to be honest.

You wish you could tell him. There is little Arondir, and anyone else for that matter, could do to help you, since the pain and sorrow are in your heart and it’s up to you to come to terms with them, not forgetting the loss of your family -you never could- but learning to live and be at peace despite it, but sharing your troubles with someone… have a friend listen, sympathise and even embrace you and offer you a shoulder to cry on… that would be a treasure more precious than any of the richness of the Dwarven Kings.

“I’m fine, really; simply a bit tired.” you reassure him, forcing yourself to smile and begging in your heart he doesn’t know you well enough to perceive you are lying “But thank you, Arondir; I appreciate it, truly.”

He doesn’t insist, simply smiling and nodding in good-bye as he leaves, and you sigh in relief, trying desperately to ignore the presentiment that you haven’t convinced him, not at all, rather that you only managed to make him worry, and suspect there is something wrong with you, even more than before.

Your only hopes are the latrines, you decide that night at dinner. The cubicles are even more cramped than your previous hiding place, not to mention the smell is unpleasant even when freshly cleaned, but you have no other choice; tired as you are, you know you will easily sleep sitting, or even standing, so the lack of space is not an issue, and if someone feels the call of nature at night and comes knocking at the door, you’ll pretend you were also using them for their original purpose, hide behind the corner, and then return. Since the latrines are closer to the dormitories than you’d feel safe with, you prepared a rag to gag yourself with, and suffocate your screams should the nightmares wake you up for the umpteenth time.

And so, that night, you huddle in your bed, feeling almost guilty as you enjoy the softness of your mattress, turning your back to Arondir and listening carefully for when his deeper breathing will reassure you he has fallen asleep.

And so you wait, and you listen.

You listen, and you wait.

And you fall asleep.

Arondir is not taking longer than usual to drift off; the fault is only yours, and of the tiredness that makes it impossible to resist the comfortable bedding you’re lying on. You don’t even realise you are giving in, and it’s your breathing that deepens, and in a matter of minutes you are sleeping, in bed for the first time in months, peacefully huddled under your blanket.

It’s the most blissful sleep you remember having; pity that it only lasts an hour.

“No! No! Sister…!”

“(name), help! Please!”

“No… no…!”

“Squeal like a pig, Elf! I’ll put your head on my spike!

“Let her go! You monster… take me…!”

“(name)? Are you…?”

The abundance of blood on their clothes, the lack of life in their eyes; you struggle with all your might, but the Orcs keep you still while one of them raises his axe above your youngest sister’s neck, to make good on their promise, while the other… the other is being… 

“(name), you need to wake up. You’re having a nightmare…”

… eaten…

Your scream is the howling of a wolf. It is the roar of a lion, and the cry of a hawk. It is pain and fear and shame and hate -for yourself- all in once, a sound that could not be depicted in words, an instinctive, uncontrolled shout erupting from the hiddenmost part of you, inexorable like blood gushing from a deadly wound, and the ground approaching after a high fall, and the oncoming darkness at the end of the world. You scream, you scream because you can’t help it, scream because there is nothing else that you can do, you scream because your mouth and your throat and your whole body and your mind are not yours anymore, you’re nothing more than a puppet at the mercy of what happened and that you were too weak to stop it…

We died because of you. Why did you not help us, (name)? Why did you not try harder? Did you not love us? You might as well have killed us with your hands…

You struggle, still fast asleep, fighting desperately against something -or someone- pressing you against the mattress, and your hand instinctively slips under your pillow. Then it’s a lash of your arm… a groan of pain… and your eyes open to embrace the darkness of the room, not less than three of your comrades peeking in from the open door, identical expression of horror and fear on their faces, and Arondir standing in front of your bed, cradling the wound on his arm the dagger in your hand has just inflicted.

“Please tell the watchwarden everything is fine. Yes, I’m sure. Go, I’ll take care of her.”

Such is Arondir’s quiet, comforting authority, that your comrades -most of the garrison by now, since your screams first and word of mouth then made it so that the rest of the dormitories are all but empty, and two dozens of Elves have gathered in front of your door- promptly disperse, returning to their beds and leaving you and your roommate alone. 

“I am so sorry…” you murmur, your voice forced down to a whisper by shame, but Arondir gently refuses your offer of help and quickly cleans and bandages the wound, that is fortunately little more than a scratch, by himself.

You remain in bed, sitting cross-legged with the blanket around your shoulders, shaking for something that has nothing to do with the cold of the winter night. It’s over, you keep repeating in your mind, your life is over; you’ll be forced to leave your post, leave the Southlands, leave the army, and return home, to your now lonely house and empty shop, with nothing more to do than making sure other Elves can clean themselves after a day of work and smell nice when meeting a suitor or attending a festival. There is nothing shameful about that, and you actually enjoyed your job as a soaper, but having to return to such mundane, humble tasks because you had been too weak to succeed as a soldier, and your nightmares had led you to be dismissed, would be a shame you would never overcome. 

Still, you should have known. You couldn’t even defend your family, what made you think you could help defend the whole of the Southlands?

The sob that escapes your mouth is tiny, barely audible after you have been quick enough to press a hand to your mouth to suffocate it, but Arondir hears it nonetheless, and he can feel his heart break for you. Having taken care of his wound, he approaches slowly, as if you were a doe ready to bolt at the least sign of danger; and in fact, you already mean to leave - at dawn, making sure no on sees you, so as to spare both yourself and the watchwarden the indignity of the discussion that will lead to your dismissal. 

In the end, you see him sit next to you; neither speaks for a while, but then Arondir’s hand takes yours, and you feel ready to cry again. “I am so sorry…” “There is no need; it will heal.”

“Still, it’s my fault; and I gave you, and everyone else, such trouble, I should leave…”

“Don’t you dare.” Arondir quickly interrupts you, looking for a moment as stern as Revion does in his worst moments, but then his kind smile returns “Do you want to tell me what ails you?”

“It was just a nightmare; I’m sorry I worried and hurt you, but I feel better now. You can go back to sleep…”

“And what about you? Will you return to bed, or leave like you have done so often until now?”

Silence falls in the room, and for a whole minute you actually struggle to breathe.

“You know.” you murmur in the end, without a questioning tone.

“I do.”

“How?”

His tone low, even soft -and why does it bother you? Why does it fill you with shame that a person you trust and care for feels the need to be tender when talking to you?- Arondir explains that ever since you transferred to the garrison, every time he woke up in the middle of the night, either because he had to use the latrines or a noise had disturbed his sleep, he inevitably found your bed empty. He never saw you leave, or return for that matter, and when he woke up in the morning you were always there, yawning or getting ready by his side, but when once, out of curiosity, he rose to touch your mattress, he found it cold, which suggested you had not simply left for a few minutes to follow the call of nature.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong… anything you could find reprehensible. I swear on my life.”

“I believe you, (name); that I never doubted, even though I was curious.” Arondir admits, almost embarrassed “It was because of your nightmares, yes? This is not your first time, nor is it an occasional event; you suffer from them.”

You can only nod.

“Regularly?”

“Yes. And I often wake up… screaming, or fretting.” you admit; you don’t quite know why you are telling him, why you are sharing with a person whose respect and trust is so important to you the most painful and humiliating side of your life, but the words are uncontrollable as they spill from your lips, as if you couldn’t stop talking, as if confessing your plight were as desperately important to you now as a cup of water for a person dying of thirst in the desert  “Most of the time, actually.”

“Most of the time? But…” realisation blossoms in Arondir’s lovely brown eyes “(name)... how often do you leave your bed at night?”

You can’t even meet his gaze as you answer. “Always. This is literally the first night I spend here in the room; I leave as soon as you fall asleep, and return at dawn. I used to sleep in the little room whose roof collapsed recently, and I planned to go to the latrines tonight, for lack of a better option. That is also why I offered myself for as many patrol night shifts as I could; I munched on leaves to keep myself awake, and I drink a draught that sometimes helps me sleep without nightmares - or at least used to; I fear I have built an immunity. And I had thought about gagging myself, because the latrines are so close to the dormitories, and… and…”

And, you have finally run out of things to say; you sob again, and then Arondir’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, gently drawing you close, and soon you are crying, softly but desperately, against his chest. You cry for your brave, generous parents, and for your sisters, who had so many plans for the future they didn’t get to live, and for yourself as well, you who could not defend any of them, and who you know will bear that guilt until the end of your days. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so embarrassed, I should let you return to sleep…” you babble miserably in the end, but Arondir’s only answer is a gentle shake of his head; he’s now holding you with both arms, rocking back and forward, a hand resting on the back of your neck. You are so close you can feel his heartbeat against your ribcage, the steady, tranquil sound finally lulling you to peace.

“Do you feel a little better?”

“Yes, thank you; I’m sorry you had to witness this, Arondir, I swear I’m usually stronger than this.” you murmur, drying your tears on your sleeve as you try to regain a little composure.

“I know how strong you are.” your friend reassures you; having let you go, he’s still holding your hands in yours “And I’m sorry you felt you had to go to such lengths to hide how much you were suffering. (name), there is nothing shameful about having nightmares; most Elves suffer from them, especially soldiers.”

You assure him you’re well aware, but since it would be unfair to keep your fellow soldiers awake as you scream and toss and turn, you simply wanted to make sure your crises wouldn’t be heard, or witnessed, by other Elves. You have learnt to live with your nightmares, but no one has to suffer because of them but you. 

“I’m sure most of them wouldn’t mind; we are comrades, it is normal for soldiers to support each other, and help in moments of need.”

“True; but sleep is important for soldiers, and… I didn’t want Revion, or my previous watchwarden, to know; they would have lost any respect for me, and probably put me on indefinite leave, which is the last thing I want.”

Arondir accepts your reasoning with a nod of his head; for a minute you see him lost in his thoughts, and you’re about to suggest you both return to sleep, or at least try, when he looks at you and “What are your nightmares about?” he asks. 

Ah.

“Why does it matter?” you ask miserably, gaze lowered on your naked feet.

“Of course it matters. As far as I know nightmares, especially if repeated like in your case, are the symptom of a disquiet of some kind, something you fear or are anxious about. If we were able to go back to the source of this unease, we could find a solution that allows you to sleep better.”

You manage to smile; hearing him say we, and sound sure and nonchalant as he does it, as if that problem were his to share and not yours alone, is a gift that fills your heart with warmth, and for which you will never be able to repay him. If only that were enough, if only the kindness and empathy of a friend were all you need to keep the darkness at bay, and allow you to sleep peacefully, even just once a week… or a month…

“Thank you, but there’s no need; and it wouldn’t work. The source of my nightmares is not something I fear might happen; it took place already, and there’s nothing I, or anyone else, can do to change the outcome.”

Silence again; Arondir is still holding you, the firm but gentle clasp of his hands feels like a rock you have grabbed in the middle of a stormy sea.

“I lost my family about two years and a half ago. We had left the village to go visit some relatives a day’s walk away; we thought we would be safe, my parents had chosen the safest road, and took their swords with them only out of habit.” you explain quietly “A… a rogue band of Orcs stumbled upon us; I do not know where they came from, there had been no sign of their kin in the area for decades. My… my parents stayed to fight them, to give the three of us a chance to run; they told me to protect my sisters, but…”

But they were too numerous, armed unlike the three of you, and then your youngest sister tripped over a rock…

“... but I could not; I let them down, all of them, and they died, and for some reason I alone survived; and now I have nightmares, almost every night since that day, because Eru and Irmo are punishing me for my weakness. It hurts, and I am ashamed, and I miss them so much, but I deserve it, I deserve much worse for letting my parents and sisters get killed, but I wish I could see them only once more, and tell them I’m sorry and that there has never been a moment since then I haven’t missed them…”

Every time you think about your family you invariably find yourself crying; this time is different, and not because you have already wept all your tears while held in Arondir’s embrace. Your suffering goes beyond tears, beyond physical pain; it’s knowing you have let the people you loved the most in the world down, a hole in your fëa that allows you walk and work and live a normal, even a content, life, but that grows inside you until, one day, it will swallow you whole, leaving only an empty husk behind.

Arondir looks at you; it takes him a moment to realise that right now nothing could comfort you and absolve you from the guilt you took upon yourself, not even if he swore on his life you have no fault for what happened, not even if every Elf in Middle-Earth promised you are a victim as well, and that you deserve kindness and empathy, not reproach and shame. He can’t free you from your pain, maybe no one can except yourself, and he dearly hopes you will find the strength to forgive yourself or better, to understand you had nothing to be blamed for in the first place, or that pain will destroy you… not last, because you need rest more than any creature he has ever met. He can’t help feeling guilty: a warm friendship has been born between the two of you, and you have been sharing a room for two months, but how can he not have noticed your bloodshot eyes, and the evident effort even the simplest tasks took you these last days?  

You are more than tired, more than exhausted; you are worn out, fatigue and anxiety gnawing at you with such ferocity Arondir is vaguely surprised you are not tearing at the seams or missing a few pieces, like a worn garment or an old working tool.

But you are neither; you are an Elf, a good, hard-working, kind one, a person he has grown sincerely fond of, and he wishes dearly there was something he could do to help you…

“Have you really slept in that tiny closet for more than two months?”

“Every night I was not on patrol, yes.”

“And you’ve had nightmares for two years, ever since you enlisted?”

“I have.” you admit tiredly “From before that, technically, since I became a soldier about four months after my… after it happened. At my previous garrison I had it easier, I had a room for myself, but here… I fear the anxiety I feel during the day has made my nightmares even more vivid and painful; I… I don’t know what to do.”

“You could go home.” Arondir suggests, and immediately regrets it when you look at him, completely unimpressed; you have just realised how horrible you must look, bloodshot eyes and untidy hair, but you don’t care, not now, not with him, even though you don’t linger to wonder why exactly.

“You think I did not think about it? I know it would be infinitely easier if I was still in the village, living alone and working at my shop; but I don’t want to spend the rest of eternity feeling sorry for myself. I know that even if I killed every Orc from here to Ost-in-Edhil my parents and sisters would still be lost to me; but I want to do my part, and if I can protect even just one Elf, making sure they do not suffer the same torment as my loved ones, I will feel a little better.”

“You really do? Feel better, I mean.”

“Sometimes.”

You sigh; you are so tired you can barely talk and keep your eyes open, not to mention dawn must be only a few hours away, but the mere thought of trying to sleep scares you. Still, Arondir deserves better than to spend the rest of the night comforting you, so you tell him you actually feel tired and want to go back to bed.

“Are you sure? What about your nightmares?” your friend objects, clearly unconvinced; you can see how tired he is, fatigue evident on his fair face.

“I’ll manage. You’ve done more than enough, you should sleep for a few hours at least…” 

Arondir meditates on the matter for a minute. “There’s something I’d like to try.” he proposes then slowly, not so much unconvinced but strangely… awkward, as if fearing his words could be misinterpreted “And that could help you sleep well. It helped me, years ago, when I still lived with my family in the village and couldn’t sleep.”

“What is it?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

His dark eyes ask for a permission you don’t hesitate to give with a simple nod. A moment later Arondir rises to close the door of the room, returns to you and gently pushes you on your back, an arm already holding you around the shoulders while your heads touch the pillow. A moment later the blanket covers you both, and the Elf in front of you gets comfortable on the tight space of the bed before slipping his arm across your waist. 

He looks at you, almost afraid of your reaction, but you’re too surprised -too flabbergasted- to decide what to do, or what to say. 

“You really think this would help me sleep better?” you ask in the end. 

“I… do, actually. My mother did it with me when I was younger, and I did the same for my brother. Feeling you’re not alone, and that someone is there to protect you, should ease your sleep and ward you from evil dreams.”

Part of you would like to point out you’re a few centuries too old to believe that sort of pretence; there has been a time when you thought your parents’ embrace could shield you from any harm, but he is not your father, nor your brother. You are Elves, for your kin chaste physical intimacy is as natural as breathing even among those who are not related by blood or marriage, but while not inappropriate or awkward, Arondir’s embrace does feel a little… odd. 

You are so close you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.” 

“Are you sure? Because I can leave if you…”

“No. I mean, I am sure. This is fine.” you decide, and almost reflexively, you snuggle against Arondir’s body, firm and warm and safe, a shield against any danger that might threaten you - even those who only exist inside your mind “More than fine, actually. Can we… I mean, I’d hate to impose, but would you please remain until I fall asleep?”

Arondir -now your bedmate rather than roommate- has rested his chin on the top of your head, literally enveloping you with his body, but you can still feel him smile. “My friend, I can remain as long as you want me to.”

Your legs intertwine; your cheek rests against his shoulder, your chests pressed against each other close enough you can feel each other’s heartbeat. You close your eyes, sorely tempted to abandon yourself to the security and solace of Arondir’s embrace and at the same time feeling almost embarrassed for it, as if you were stealing from the house of someone who had offered you a bed for the night. There are so many things you would like to tell him, but they can wait, and you have the strong suspicion your friend knows them already.

This time sleep is not a black hole you fall in; it’s a soft cloud enveloping and supporting you, and you let it, sleeping and dreaming peacefully for the first time in longer than you can remember.

When you finally wake up, content and well-rested -a sensation of wellness you actually struggle for a moment to identify, so long it has been since the last time you experienced it- you remain with your eyes closed for a minute, enjoying the warmth of your bed, and the full light filling the room…

Wait. The full light? But the sun at dawn can’t… what time is it?!

“Good morning.” Arondir greets you softly, smiling as he observes you raising your head from the pillow, moving carefully so as not to break his embrace “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, but… oh, Eru… it’s already past noon!” you cry, horrified, looking at the position of the sun out of the window “I was meant to go on patrol this morning, and we are already late for archery practice…”

“No, you are not.”

“What?”

Arondir, perfectly calm, explains that this morning, as you slept, he intercepted Médhor as he and the others prepared to start their day and asked him to relay a message to the watchwarden: you would both be taking one of the free days you are allotted every month. 

“You as well?”

“Well, I did not want to leave you alone.”

He spent the little free time he had taking care of you - resting, which probably did not hurt, since Arondir works harder than most soldiers in the garrison, but you can’t help thinking it was a waste, and that there were better ways he could have employed those hours. “I’m sorry…”

“(name), stop apologising for things you do not need to. Now, what say you and I go have some lunch? I’m sure they have put aside something for us in the kitchens.”

You are hungry, indeed, more than you remember being for many days, as if now that your mind has rested, your body were also demanding attention to its needs. You take a minute to wash your face in the basin and put your clothes on, and then follow Arondir towards the kitchens.

“Do you feel better, (name)?” Médhor asks as he meets you in the corridor; both him and the soldiers close enough to hear your conversation smile kindly at you, empathy rather than blame in their eyes, which fills your heart with an odd mixture of gratitude and guilt.

“I do, thank you. I am sorry I… disturbed all of you, last night; I, err, had a dream…”

“You needn’t apologise; we all suffer from nightmares once in a while.” one of your comrades points out, while another pats your back in comfort. 

“Yes; most soldiers do, I think. There are draughts you can drink, to help you sleep.”

“I find it easier to sleep with an open window… or if I take a walk before going to bed…”

You assure them you will remember their advice, and Arondir smiles at you.

“You see? No one thinks there is something wrong about you; we are comrades, (name), supporting each other is natural.”

You tell him that you’ll try to remember.

A few minutes later you are both sitting in the kitchens, eating bread and a soup one of the cooks has warmed for you on the fire. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this: well-rested, yes, more alert and focused, but your body feels stronger, healthier, as well, as if a few hours spent lying on a mattress were enough to counteract two months of nights squeezed in a tight, crammed space where you did not even have the space to lie down. It doesn’t work like that, you know it well, and it will take you more than a single night of rest to return to your full strength, both mentally and physically. You can’t very well expect your roommate to spend every night of the next century sleeping in your bed, and sooner or later, as you get used to his calming and protective presence, your nightmares will return; if you don’t find a way to control them, to stop memories and dreams from controlling your life, you will lose your mind.

Still, it’s a start. And knowing that you’re not alone, that the Elves around you understand what you’re going through and are ready to offer help and sympathy rather than to blame you helps as well - it helps more than you could explain in words.

Your foot touches Arondir’s under the table; your gazes meet, and he smiles at you - a smile you can’t help but return as you enjoy your soup. “(name), I…” 

“(name)? The watchwarden wants to see you, as soon as you are done eating.” a passing soldier informs you, making all the quiet joy you were enjoying in your heart evaporate. 

The moment of reckoning has come.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“There is no need; or better, there is, but this is something I have to do alone.” you admit with a sigh, before smiling at your roommate, this time without having to make an effort for it “I will see you later.”

“Of course you will.”

Revion’s tiny office is at the end of the corridor where you first spoke; having quickly reached the door, you square your shoulders, remind yourself you have nothing to feel ashamed for -you still believe you do, in your heart of hearts, but every bit of self-confidence helps, even if you limit yourself to think something without feeling it- and knock.

“Did you ask for me, sir?”

“Yes, (name); come in and close the door.”

You obey, walking to stand in front of Revion’s desk, perfectly tidy and well-organised despite the numerous scrolls and maps placed on it. The watchwarden observes you from above his intertwined fingers; there is no reproach or anger in it, but its intensity makes it hard to hold his gaze nonetheless.

“According to Médhor, the roof in the small room behind the kitchens will be repaired within a couple of days.” he says in the end, his tone inexpressive, as he finally lowers his eyes to a scroll you know he has had for at least three weeks “We will find a place for the crates held within, and I am sure the others will help you move your bed there.”

Silence.

“I could not hear you, (name).”

“Y-yes, sir; thank you, sir.” you stammer; he knows, you realise without the need to ask, either he has from the start or he has realised once he heard about last night. He knows, which means he’s also aware you disobeyed his orders of sleeping in your bed like all your comrades, and this is nothing less than a catastrophe “I-I am sorry, sir. I really am, but…” “But you had no choice, did you? I was on patrol last night, but I was told you screamed loud enough to alert the whole dormitory.”

“The room is farther away; it would have been unfair to disturb the others for a matter that is mine and mine alone.”

The watchwarden nods in agreement. He sighs, before resting his back against the chair, and looks up at you again. “There is a healer, in a garrison not far from here, that specialises in sicknesses of the mind.”

“I am not crazy, sir.” you tell him, not caring how disrespectful you sound as you do it.

“I never said you were, (name); nor do I think it. But a soldier who is not at her full strength could have repercussions on the security of the whole troop, and this is a situation we both want to avoid.” Revion points out, more gently than you deserve “Also, you might find it hard to believe it but I actually care about the well-being of my soldiers. There is nothing shameful about having nightmares, but I know how debilitating they can be, and I’d rather have you serene and calm, as well as physically healthy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. The healer I was telling you about is a trusted friend, and very experienced in helping soldiers in your situation; I will ask him to come and talk to you, and I am sure you will follow his directions to the letter, doing nothing less and nothing more.”

“I will, sir.”

“Good; I hope you enjoy your day of rest. You are dismissed.”

You nod, stand on attention, and turn to leave; on the door you linger for a moment.

“Thank you, sir.” you murmur, turning your head only partially “I appreciate it, truly.”

You can’t see him, nor feel it in his voice, but you know Revion is smiling. “I’m sure you do.”

All things considered the talk went better than you dared to hope, but you sigh nonetheless in relief once the office’s door is closed behind you. 

Who knows, perhaps a room to yourself away from the dormitories is everything you need, and the best you can aspire to; or maybe the healer will actually find a way to make you sleep peacefully once in a while. The guilt and shame for the loss of your family still envelop you, as resilient and impossible to eliminate as the scar of an old wound; you are not quite sure you want to make the pain go away, not if it means forgetting the love you still hold for them and the nostalgia for their absence. But punishing yourself for their death will amount to nothing, at least as long as there are other soldiers who need you at your full strength; until there is a war to fight, and comrades to support and protect, you will take care of yourself, for their sake if not for your own.

I promise. So that perhaps, one day, you can love me again.

You cross the corridor at a half-run, your body feeling lighter and stronger than it has in a long time; the light of the mid-afternoon sun envelops you as you step on the porch.

[crazylittlejester]

Idea for you: Warriors finally getting so fed up with the rest of the groups’ hair care habits (generally being overgrown/unkempt and on several memorable occasions, watching someone hack off their dead ends with a dagger) that he finally snaps and lines everyone up for a proper haircut and/or style. Everyone is surprised by how good the results turn out.

And as a bonus…

Twilight, indignantly: I’ve sheared plenty of goats before!

Wars: THAT’S NOWHERE NEAR THE SAME-

HAHA HE WOULD. I can also see Wars being horrified that the others just use basic soaps and not like, conditioners and other things (it’s because Wars’s hair is dyed and it requires more maintenance but also like, he’d be using seven hair care products even if he WAS naturally blond). He’s definitely good at cutting hair, I headcanon he cut his own and Mask’s during the war

I can TOTALLY see Twilight comparing sheering goats and animals to cutting hylian hair and styling it, and Wars absolutely loosing it. They’ve definitely had a conversation like:

“But I can be careful! I can cut ‘round their little faces!”

“THAT IS NOT THE SAME THING!!”

[2w1ld3st-2dr3ams]

𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝟙: ℍ𝕪𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕤

K!nkt0ber Day 1: Hybrids

➸ Muse 1: Tomioka Giyuu (Demon Slayer)

➸ WC: 3.3k

➸ CW: Cow Hybrid!Giyuu, mentions of pornography (or a raunchy scene in a movie), inexperienced Giyuu, mentions of past abuse, fluffy shit all things considered, a lot of boob stuff, TLDR: Just milking Cow Giyuu's tits and there's feelings in there.

➸ Mumbles: Recycling baby (this was meant for last year, help me) Also, an excuse to write for Giyuu tits tbh.

It wasn't often that you heard rustling in your backyard, given that you didn't have any pets and wild animals weren't anywhere near your house. Perhaps it was your neighbor's dog or that one raccoon you saw stuffing it's face with garbage nearby that one time. Either way, you didn't particularly like the idea of something rummaging through your backyard, especially if that thing decided your backyard would make an adequate toilet. God knows you had one to many debates with your neighbors about their animal's bathroom habits and, in your personal opinion, too little time had passed between the last one and this up and coming one.

Whatever the reason, you decided it was better if you shooed the little critter out yourself. If you caught it early enough, maybe you could persuade it to leave it's business elsewhere, preferably not in your recently remodeled backyard. You grabbed a nearby broom to shoo the animal away and begrudgingly made your way to the origin of the sound. When you got there, however, all that greeted you was the stillness of nature and a prominent hole near one of your recently planted bushes. This, in turn, damaged the structure your bushes were resting on and managed to make one fall over. As you could imagine, there was an even more sizable hole in your backyard now, not to mention the de-rooted bush that lay so pathetically on its side.

Irritated by the revelation of such sabotage against your hard work, you made your way back to your house to look for your tools—the faster you took care of the now ruined section, the faster you could set up some proper fencing to stop any further incidents. You quickly zoned out as you got to work, trying not to think of the culprit of this crime most likely laughing at your agony or the fact that you were feeling very strongly over a simple hole. Just as you were finishing the maintenance and re-planting the bush, you noticed some rapid movement out of the corner of your eye. A flash of hair was escaping the corners of your vision when you turned your head towards the movement. All you could figure out from all the rapid head turning was a scurrying tuff of dark hair that seemingly swayed with hurry.

You, of course, deducted that whatever that was had to be connected to your backyard. It was a rather large animal too, considering the size and quantity of the hair. You couldn't think of many animals near your area that would match the description, so you settled on incriminating the little trash eater that still made such a ruckus at night. Deciding to leave the thought of sentencing animals like a judge aside, you made your way back inside once you had finished packing your tools away. You would go visit the town center and find some fences tomorrow, today you had promised one of your neighbors that you would dog-sit while they went on a weekend getaway with their boyfriend.

A few hours later, you found yourself hiking to your house as exhaustion was dragging you down by your hairs. Any chiropractor or orthopedic would be cringing at your posture right now, your back almost made a perfect arc forward and your head was inching closer to the ground. Your neighbors dog was adorable and you didn't mind doing them a favor every now and then, but if you heard that damm dog bark at the wind outside one more time you would've lost your sanity. Apparently, all the other dogs of the neighborhood had been feeling some sort of way about the outside of their comfortable homes at exactly the same time. You would hear a cacophony of barks during the late evening and sit there rethinking your choice of living situation.

Through the snippets of conversation your tired ears caught, your neighborhood was being haunted by…something. You weren't sure if haunted was the right word, more like invaded. There had been multiple reports of something terrorizing people's backyards and an increase in black-haired-animal sightings nearby. Considering a possible raccoon infestation, you made a beeline to your backyard, getting anxious by the second that your little thief-cosplaying friend had decided to pay you another visit. The noise you made clearly scared whatever was inhabiting your garden, as you heard a very pronounced "Ah!" coming from the darkness.

Instead of being greeted with a chubby, short, and dual-colored cretin, you were greeted with a very naked man sporting peculiar cow ears and horns and a matching tail. He was in a horrible state, if being publicly naked wasn't bad enough, sporting a variety of bruises in an array of tones. His chest area was especially bruised, sporting what appeared to be suction marks around his nipples. He was, rightfully, terrified, his face contorting into a mixture of fear and regret. The one thing you noticed about him the most, however, was that peculiar head of very prominent black hair that almost camouflaged into the darkness of the night.

Your first thought was relief, since you finally had a face to the culprit of the crime scene that you had just cleaned up hours prior. Your second thought was checking what you last ate and drank in the last 24 hours. After making sure you didn't consume any hallucinogenic substances, you turned your attention back to the man—half man was probably a better way to put it. You couldn't get a proper word out before the being in front of you began rapid-firing apologies and explanations. You couldn't make out very much from his…eloquent speech, apart from the words "farm", "mistreatment", "hybrid", and "escaped".

Though not much information was supplied, it was enough for you to put two and two together. Plus, if the continuously frequent visits from men in uniforms asking about "a missing product" told you anything, this farm had located him and was currently hunting him down. Now, you weren't educated in the laws about half human-half animal people, but you were fair to assume that whatever was happening at his farm was against a bunch of workplace regulations. You did your best to bring the now hyperventilating man to your house without causing too much suspicion, which was noticeable hard to do considering how sketchy it would look to see your neighbor's silhouette dragging something prominently non-human back to their house. Nevertheless, you both made it inside without anybody calling out to you, which you would take as a victory.

First order of business now, get some clothes on the poor man. It was decently into the nighttime now, the poor thing must've been freezing. You told him to sit down near the heating device while you went and got some clothes and blankets for him. You got him one of your old shirts as well as some sweatpants and underwear. While making sure he was comfortable and warm, you started making light conversation just to fill in the air. You weren't sure what to do in a situation like this, so maybe eradicating the silence would make you think better. Your efforts were wasted on him though, as he looked down at his lap with a perfectly sculpted neutral expression.

Deciding to let him be, you got up and cooked the both of you some food. You made sure to avoid steak or dairy products, half out of respect and half out of dumbfoundedness. You sat down next to him and handed him his food, which he immediately dropped. Startled and a bit offended, you asked him why he did that. He responded with that neutral face, perhaps sporting hints of embarrassment, that his muscle function was heavily underused thanks to the abuse he endured back at the farm and that it would take a while before he got full control over his actions. It made you question how he could've made such a sizable hole in your backyard, but you were too tired to question him about it. Your half-asleep mind came up with a brilliant solution to his dilemma, fortunately.

Picking up your fork, you pricked a bit of food and brought it to his lips. Surprised adorned his face for seconds before he hesitantly opened his mouth, allowing you to feed him. You went slow, matching his pace and letting him tell you when he wanted another bite. It was serene, an act of kindness that the hybrid in front of you probably hadn't felt in a long time.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

Giyuu didn't register when his adoration for you intensified to what it was today. He remembered the night when you first met very clearly, as it managed to break down every single prejudice he had about himself in mere hours. You were so gentle with him, so patient and loving, even when he had dropped your food and messed up your backyard. You didn't send him back to that place, you never even pressured him to tell you about it.

By this point, he had been living with you for about a year and a half now; it melted his heart that you wanted him to stay and hadn't kicked him out yet, but it also made his ever-growing feelings for you fester for longer. It scared him, being so close to you. Closeness back at the farm meant he had broken a rule and was about to be punished, it meant torture and nights spent crying until he had no more left to give. Closeness with you, however, felt like home. Home, what a funny word indeed.

He felt close to you when you both sat down by the heating device that night you met, knees almost touching due to the proximity; he felt at home with you when you softly brought food to his lips, letting him know you were willing to cooperate with him in the moment. He felt close to you when he was cowering into your chest because of a nightmare, reduced to a sobbing mess of tears; he felt at home with you when you gently cradled his head in your hands, wiping his tears away and promising that he was safe with you. He felt close to you when he let you touch his horns, bowing his head to you in an act of submission; he felt at home with you when you traced over his horns like they were made out of porcelain, like if the man in front of you deserved nothing but the softest of touches.

You were his home, the place he could run to without judgement, the place where he knew he wouldn't be shunned or thrown away. Naturally, Giyuu wanted to repay you; old habits die hard and this one just happened to be learned back at the farm. He knew that relying on his instinct for this wouldn't get across his point though, so he had to formulate something else.

He thought for days about a variety of presents he could give you, but none of them seemed perfect enough. You had enough home decorations, he couldn't cook all that well to make you something, you had made it clear to him that you didn't want a maid much less try and use him for food, he didn't know how much he wanted to risk going outside with you; there were so many discarded options he was beginning to get overwhelmed. He could always offer you his body, but he wasn't quite sure how to approach that subject. Sex and intimacy back at the farm where basically two different worlds; where there was one, the other couldn't be. He couldn't give you something as bland as a sexual experience, you could get those for less than he was offering you and with much more experienced people.

Why was this so hard? All he had to do was thank you for everything you'd done for him and then give you something in return, why was he fretting so much over this? He looked at you in search for something that might help him figure out what he could give you—and accidently stumbled upon the perfect gift. You were staring at the TV screen, soft eyed and sporting a stupidly lovesick grin, as some movie played on the screen. Said movie just happened to include a couple's first time, and they couldn't have been more awkward about it. Still, the way each touch they made radiated love and adoration was making you giddy. Giyuu saw how much fun the couple seemed to be having, even though they had failed to advance below the waist for the past 45 minutes or so, and could instantly feel his cheeks heating up. Did you want something like this?

It was a little overwhelming, you see. Giving you his all, his most vulnerable, and recieving the same from you? Being treated so gently, so softly, so…human. The image on the screen flashed to a shot of a pair of hands slowly carresing and fondling with the chest of the other, taking time to squeeze them and tease their partner. Giyuu looked back at you and saw you with a slightly darker hue adorning your cheeks. Huh, he might've just found his gift for you…and all thanks to some random Saturday night movie.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

You came home from a night out to a completely silent house. Yeah, Giyuu wasn't known for being loud, but he would at least have something playing in the background while he went about his day. Sometimes you would catch him humming some tune you've never heard before, but it never failed to make your day. You put your bag down, took of your shoes, and traveled deeper into the empty house. Once you reached your bedroom door, you began getting suspicious. Did he run away? Was he unhappy here? Was he playing a prank on you? Did the people looking for him miraculously find him? You hadn't seen him since you set foot in your house and you couldn't distinguish even one sign of life anywhere.

Still, your concern was overpowered by your tiredness, so you promptly entered your bedroom and passed out almost immediately. You swore you would never underestimate how soft your bed could be again; it felt like you were sleeping on a very fluffy cloud. As you dozed off, you failed to notice the door of your bathroom door opening and closing, a figure now ocuppying the space in front of it. Your lost roommate was blinking down at you in confusion; you weren't supposed to fall asleep this early, were you seriously that tired? His plan of recreating the movie scene failed, and that stung a bit, but you looked so comfortable drooling on your pillow that he let you be.

Though, he couldn't help but sit down next to your pillow, pushing his thighs together until they sort or replicated it. He had done his own research, no matter how long it took him to figure out how to work your computer, and found that humans liked resting their head on soft things. And if you asked him, his thighs were pretty soft. Slowly, almost as if he wasn't even moving at all, he managed to position your head on his thighs, moving the pillow away from you. It was a different touch than what he was used to, the blades of the machines never felt quite as soft as your hair on his skin. He looked down at your sleeping face, scrunched up yet so peaceful, and he couldn't stop the strange warmth that invaded his chest. He never understood you fully, but having you here with him was enough for now. Even if he had planned for something completely different, this wasn't so bad either.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

You don't remember your pillow being so warm, and so soft. Slowly shifting to lay on your stomach, you wrapped your arms around your comfortable pillow and snuggled into its warmth.

Oh how you couldn't be more wrong.

Giyuu was both flabbergasted and appreciative. You looked like you were having the best sleep of your life, but the way you hugged onto his hips and how your lips would occationally graze his thighs had him more worked up than he wanted to admit. There was a faint ache in his chest, different from the mushy feeling he felt. This one was a bit more painful, as if something was messing with his chest. He knew that feeling all too well. It was the same feeling he got right before those suctioning cups were placed on his chest.

Maybe, releaving himself a bit wouldn't hurt—at least, not more than the pain he was in right now. Holding in his milk wasn't healthy and, no matter how badly we wanted to keep this from you, he also didn't want to wake you up. So, he relied on his instincts to guide his hand down towards his nipples, a wet stain on the shirt he was wearing. He flicked one of his nipples over the shirt, stain becoming just a tad bit bigger as he could feel the liquid drip down his chest and abdomen. He bit his lips hard, attempting to muffle any noises that fell out of his lips. He swore he didn't sound so sinful back on the farm.

"Ngh~"

You turned back around, laying on your back once more before yawning. You felt something wet fall on your tongue.

Was that…milk?

Your face scrunched, confused as to why your saliva tasted like milk. There was also something dripping on your face. Did you sleepwalk outside again or was there a leak in your roof? You slowly opened your eyes, bothered by the constant droplets on your face which broke the very nice dream you were having. Instead of being greeted by another hole—you were starting to notice a pattern—you were greeted by the sight of Giyuu's chest slightly covering your vision as his hands teased and played with his chest. Your ears, which were apparently not working before, suddenly decided to bless you with the sound of soft moans and wanton whimpers, a few keens here and there when his fingers did a particularly rough motion.

What a wonderful sight to wake up to.

"A-ah! P-please~"

He didn't even know what he was begging for, but it only made his motions become rougher. He was in too deep to notice that you had opened your eyes and had shifted your head off his lap. That is, until he felt your hand on his shoulder. He turned his head towards you, eyes dazed yet holding a twinge of panic. Still, he couldn't stop his fingers from moving across his chest, moaning shamelessly. He was panting like he ran a marathon, chest swollen and a bit heavy.

"Y-you're awake! I have a—mphm!—g-gift for you!"

He managed to get out through his moans. With a not-quite-all-there smile, he pushed his tits together. You could see why they were so heavy now, as milk seemed to endlessly pour down his chest. He leaned forward slightly, allowing a perfect view of his cleavage. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, a dumb smile on his face.

"I-I saw how much you seemed to like that—ngh!—s-scene in that m-movie the other day, so…"

Well, he didn't need to tell you twice. He let out a loud keen once you attached your mouth to his nipple, tongue running over the sensitive bud while you teased more milk out of his chest. The sounds he was making were glorious, and you were quite thirsty after that long nap…

Oh well, he'd have to sit still and pretty for a few hours while you got your fill.

[idv-sunsxin3]

Horropedia // His Birthday

Note// I just found out about Horropedia's birthday when I logged in today--- So here's a short writing :))

___

"Yin, what will we watch tonight after this?" Horropedia points movies he found in one of the storage boxes.

"Y/N! Can we watch this one again?" :DD

"Hey, you're just time! I heard there's an abandoned amusement park around this place. Shall we check it out together, Boo?" He offers while handing out his hand excitedly once seeing you coming back.

"Want to check out that bookshop over there? I think there can be some books left out that we can take a peek- Ah? Oh, nevermind, everything's burned down for some reason..." The brunette says as he picks up a burned book in dismay, which it doesn't waste a second to get blown to smitherings, "No salvation can be done...- Maybe next time then;;;"

...

That's it.

Your man is going to receive a more proper gift for his birthday this time.

No way you're going to pass the opportunity.

But what will it be? Mmm...

You find yourself thinking as you're laying on the bed, until you recall the time when you both were watching a certain movie about a cursed doll slasher...(you know which- lol)

Then, you remember seeing Horropedia's "secret weapon" attack.

Right, the dolls!

How about yassifying them?/ih

You gotta need some more horror movie knowledge about props though, mmm...

It seems you gotta sneak out for a bit with Vertin's help-

"Y/N, hey! You're busy tonight?" Your boyfriend asks as he tilts up his glasses with a grin. Looking at you as you're both about to start the battle.

"I'm afraid yes-" You say in small guilt knowing you’re going to watch horror stuff without him.

"Whaaat- Now that's new horror..." The brunette comments as he sighs a bit sadly, "I'll wait for you once you come back, then!"

"Thank you for understanding." You smile before giving a peck on his cheek.

.

.

.

"Ah- I'm finally back to the suitcase..." You mutter as you enter the room. Feeling a bit exhausted after having beef with one those furry monsters. /ih

"Welcome back!" Horropedia greets, too focused on his firearm to look up but seems happy that you've returned safely from one of Vertin's trips.

At his working space, Horropedia has been doing a gun maintenance for a while during his break. He adjusts some of the gears of his firearm using his assembly tools that are now placed on his table. Moments later, he hears a wood thud, sensing someone place an object in front of hum.

His eyes look up lightly to notice a box wrapped in a silky bow, before raising his brow a bit by the sight.

"Oh? What is this?" The brunette snickers once noticing that you were the one placing the gift box on top of his desk, looking up from his gun.

"A birthday gift." You simply answer with a smile as he pulls out a chair for you to sit beside him, "Happy birthday to you~🎵"

"Oh no;;;" Horropedia says once he realizes what you're going to do. Slowly lowering his gun for a moment.

"Happy birthday to youuuu~" You lean closer as keep singing, starting to  attack him with kisses all over his face.

"Noooooooo~" The other fake whines as he laughs by the ticklish feeling, having his arms wrapped around you as yours are around his neck lightly.

"Happy birthday, dear Joshua~🎵" You continue before giving him more kisses, "Happy Birthday to you,,," <33

"Ahhhh, yeah, Happy birthday to me,,, 🤣🫠" Horropedia laughs more while cheering lightly.

Feeling as if he's melting by the kisses and hugs you're giving him, he lets his hands rest on your hips as you're now sitting on his lap. Resting his face on your shoulder in slight bliss as to catching a breath... Before remembering about the gift box-

"Oh wait- what did you brought me?" The horror enthusiast asks as he looks up from your shoulder at the box.

Taking that as a cue, Horropedia reaches out for the box before fetching it in one hand. His other hand slowly leaving your waist as he examines it closer while rotating it n different angles. Then shaking it carefully near to his ear for any kinds of sounds with a hint of anticipation.

"Open it up and find out," You giggle shortly once replying, "I just hope you will like it..."

"Aww.." The brunette coos a bit before untangling the bow that seems to be unwrappable.

Suspension music can be heard from the background...- it's probably one of the horror nerd's mechanisms/ih

"Now, the moment of truth..-" He dramatically says as he slowly lowers his hands for the cap as you still sit on one side of his lap to lend him space to move.

He pauses.

"It's...

Oh my days... - It's perfect!!!" Horrpedia quickly brings his hands up to reveal a pair of silly matching, but spooky costumes that seem to resemble for his "cliche but effective" spooky twin dolls- never though he gets to have dapper props for them... even very creepy looking as it's cover in this crimson paint color.

"I've been researching for a while and tried some fabrics" You explain about your process while recalling the tiny struggles you face to sew everything up as you designed them to be, "I may not be of an expert as you when it comes to authentic props but-

Before you get to finish your sentence, you got gently cut off with a firm hug from your boyfriend- Who seems to rustle his hair on your shoulder as he's staring at the props again through his leaned down pose with a more silly grin now.

"You always give me everything nice..." Horropedia admits before moving up to plant a kiss on your lips.

"But just so you know... You're always my real gift."

.

.

.

"Were you also watching a documentary of Chucky?"

"...Yes..?"

"..Gasps.... Betrayal!"/lh

[theycallmequeenie]

Yondu X Reader Part 6

Master List

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6:

A\N: AS always I did not create the Gif I do not posses those skills I used the gif search bar. If you are the creator of any of the gifs I've used and would like to to Gove you proper credit please let me know and I will edit to tag you for the credit. I know I’ve been gone forever and I’m getting flakier and flakier and at this point I’m truly surprised if anyone still follows any of my stories. Again, I apologize the headspace has been utter garbage and I’m fighting as hard as I can to get content written and posted if only, I could get the headspace and the family to cooperate at the same time that would be wonderful. After all that rambling, here’s the story, enjoy and happy reading. 

Yondu began to talk to Y\N trying to calm her anxiety that seemed to spike out of nowhere in the middle of the night taking her hand from his thigh and bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back of it before placing it over his heart.

“Darlin’ I don’t know what’s got you fretting all of a sudden, but I want you to listen to me. As long as that heart right there is beating you ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ getting you in the night. I promise you that.”

Yondu, as gently as he could, pulled Y/N to his chest and slowly rocking her back and forth trying to calm her as quickly as possible. He didn’t know what she may have been through, but he knew it had to have been something terrible to have her this out of sorts from simply being in a different bed than her own. Why hadn’t she realized yet that she and the boy were the two safest ones on that ship as long as he was around. Yondu would rather sacrifice his own life than to ever let either or those two get hurt in any way, shape, or form. 

If Y/N questions, her safety still after being on his crew for this long, could something have happened with them or was this something from her life back on Terra messing with her still? Yondu made a mental note to try and ease her into opening up as to why she had this reaction later when she was actually awake enough to delve into potential past traumas. 

Yondu managed to get her calmed and back to sleep within about an hour of her waking as she had, and it was a restful rest of the night. As the day started it came with the sounding of alarms to wake and get to work on the ship. More maintenance for the ship and caring for Peter he was still young and needed taught the basics or everyday life all be it not the everyday life that was expected by him and Y/N. 

Yondu carefully woke Y/N and handed off her daily Ravager attire of her denim coveralls with the Ravager emblem over the part that rests over her heart and the pants and plain white tee she wore under them. She offered a small smile as she took them and hurried off to the captain’s bathroom to ready herself for the day.

Once dressed she left the captain’s quarters, checked in on Peter, and started on her daily tasks. She did her best to avoid Yondu all day and for the most part she was successful until it came time for the nightly meal. 

Yondu basically cornered her asking her why she had been avoiding him all day to which she tried to get away without responding. She wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened the night before and was going well out of her way to avoid it. She just wasn’t ready for that particular conversation with Yondu. She thought if he knew what caused her to wake the way she did in his bed he would see her as ‘soft’ and that would be the end of their relationship. Something she wasn’t ready for, nor did she want. 

Yondu decided to let her avoid their conversation at that moment but was determined to at least find out what had happened last night that she had woken up so terrified. He left her eat and socialize like she normally would, but he watched her closely. Waiting for her to decide to call it a night and retire to her quarters for the night after making sure the boy was in for the night. Once she had tucked the boy in then Yondu would make his move and get her to talk to him. 

Yondu was waiting outside of Peter’s quarters for Y/N to finish up the boy’s nightly bedtime routine. A fact that Y/N was unaware of until she exited Peter’s room. Upon realizing Yondu was waiting for her startled her which caused her to let out a little yelp of surprise before greeting him.

“You surprised me Cap. Wasn’t expecting you to be lurking just outside the door, Sir.” She spoke barely loud enough to be heard by him and made no efforts to make eye contact. She wasn’t entirely up for the conversation she knew was about to be had but she knew Yondu was like a bulldog with a bone when he wanted answers.

“Well Darlin’, you’ve done an excellent job of avoiding me today and I needed to talk witcha ‘bout las night…” He stopped and gave her a knowing look he had a feeling this was going to be a hard conversation to have with Y/N, but he needed to confirm his theories about his love. Deep down he wanted to be worried over nothing more than a simple bad night but something in his gut told him there was more to it. He really hoped it wasn’t as bad as he feared.

With a sigh Y/N nodded and agreed to talk with him only in his private quarters as to not risk the rest of the crew overhearing the conversation. She motioned to Yondu to lead the way back to his room as she was clearly not in any hurry to have that conversation.

Her childhood was the one thing that she never talked about. It wasn’t a good experience and not something she enjoyed revisiting. It was a harsh reminder that she was damaged goods. A fact her father would remind her of almost daily. Y/N was starting to feel the anxiety build at the thought of telling Yondu what caused that nightmare the night prior. The fear of her father’s words ringing true was weighing heavily on her. What if they were true what if once Yondu finds out about how damaged she was and decided he wasn’t interested in her anymore because the trauma was too much to deal with on top of everything else on his shoulders. What if he agreed with Y/N’s father, that she was in fact completely unlovable…

To Be Continued…

@capitanostella

Part 7

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

how would main 6 react if mc were a mermaid???

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a merfolk MC

~ thanks so much anon, this is a prompt I never would have thought of on my own and I'm loving how fun it is! enjoy ~

While it certainly influences how you function, being merfolk isn't the biggest deal to you. Vesuvians live in a bustling port city, with the world's most unusual people setting up shop on their doorsteps. They don't bat an eyelash at people of other species.

At first you refrained from mentioning it because you didn't have any memories and weren't ready to open that can of worms while you were still relearning to walk. By the time your shop had two mysterious visitors in one night, the people around you didn't know because you had no reason to go swimming with anyone and you never brought it up. You could change back and forth at will pretty easily, so you never associated anything unpleasant with it, besides how messy bath time could get if you felt the need to polish your scales.

Julian

It was your turn to clean the house, and you thought you'd take advantage of the dirty bathroom floor and do some tail maintenance

You avoided doing this when it was his turn because it really did make a big mess and you felt bad having him clean it up

So you're really getting in there (it's been over a month), removing dull and chipped scales, scraping out the gunk that's built up, scrubbing and polishing and making chaos

And then you hear his loud "I'm hooooome!" as the front door slams closed, and you respond with "in the bathroom!", and it's not until you're making eye contact with a gaping doctor that you realize

You forgot to tell him

And also the bathroom looks like a sea debris tornado hit it

He's got a million questions running through his mind, since when were you merfolk, why didn't he know this about you, was he not paying close enough attention, were you shy about it for some reason, whoah that's cool anatomy, why are there scales everywhere, if you're not wearing anything on your tail does that mean it's naked

He only manages a small squeak

You laugh and apologize for not telling him sooner, it just slipped your mind

He spends the next hour watching you groom, the doctor in him asking so many questions (with your permission) about how it works

It will hit him later that he's a pirate in love with a merfolk and the dramatic appeal of it will make him insufferable for weeks

Asra

They already knew, they've been one of your closest friends for years

The crazy part was when you woke up without any memories after he brought you back, and that meant that you didn't know

It's been its own challenge to take care of you this first week, you're disoriented and dysfunctional, and they're so relieved to have you back, but they don't have any experience with caring for someone in your state

So yeah, it was a week before he decided to try giving you a proper bath

It's going smoothly, you were surprisingly chill when they lowered you into the water

But for the first time you are feeling yourself submerged, and you're suddenly aware of the sensation of wanting to stretch out your legs after being curled up, so you do

Now Asra's turning around from grabbing the soap to see you thrashing wildly, tail out and very startled by what your body is doing

He's able to calm you down and help you figure out how to switch back and forth, but he's also noticing the state your tail is in

You had spent all your time before the plague caring for others, and it's been sitting dormant since you woke up, it needs the same rehab that the rest of your body does

But what breaks their heart the most is how your scales are all dull, some of them cracked or chipped or peeling, and they don't know the first thing about tail care, and clearly neither do you at the moment

Which is why every merfolk trader in Vesuvia knows his name now

They spent countless afternoons in the markets asking questions, taking notes, and collecting the right products

He doesn't mind the mess, which is why he never thinks to help you clean it up

Nadia

She has been wanting to take you to her childhood haunts since she met you, and now it's finally happening!

It's been months since she suggested it, you've both been very busy rebuilding Vesuvia, and she likes planning things out so they'll be perfect

But now you're taking a week at her summer palace getaway by the sea, and you literally don't have any memories of the last time you were able to swim somewhere like this

As soon as she's ready to go down to the water with you you're diving in

To say you're ecstatic is an understatement

You're very happy living as a human, but right now you're really getting to experience your roots and it's incredible

Nadia's surprised, to say the least

You never mentioned it, she never noticed any signs of it, is this why you eat so much seafood?

Should she instruct the palace chefs to expand your food options? Should she facilitate more moments like this where you can swim? Does your tail need regular exercise? Why didn't she see this when you used her bath?

Now you're circling back to the sand to invite her in with you, and realizing that you didn't give her any warning that you'd take off like that

She approaches you with a list of questions, but they die in her throat when she sees you in your element

You're glowing from the exercise, your face is shining with excitement and happiness, and your form in the water is the most breathtaking thing she's ever seen

She'll take your hand and let you pull her through the water

She makes multiple adjustments when you get back to the palace to make sure you're well provided for

Muriel

He lives off of the land, nobody is more comfortable with non-human species than he is

Though he doesn't interact with many water affiliated species, he's a trees and rocks kinda guy

He could sense that you weren't fully human from the time he met you, but he never thought it was worth bringing it up

You are you, whatever that is, just the fact that you run a shop and talk to people all day long is way more remarkable to him

But he does notice after a while of living together that you begin to get antsy, you keep stretching out your legs and taking weirdly big breaths

You end up suggesting to him that the two of you go down to the shore a little ways away from the city to camp over night

He's happy to do that, if that's what's been bothering you

Really, you just want full access to a body of water. Muriel doesn't have a tub anywhere in the hut and the forest is all streams, you haven't been able to swim or clean up properly in weeks

You'd been planning to help him set up camp when you arrived, but just the sight of the sun glinting off of the waves has you sprinting to the shoreline

As soon as he sees the way you dive in and shift, it clicks for him

Now the restlessness makes sense, why didn't you say anything earlier?

He's very happy to get everything organized by himself, you do come back and offer to help but he sends you back to the water with a shy request for eel, if you can find it

You do find it, and you have a delicious dinner together

He builds you a bath outside where the water can flow through it

He goes with you to the shore every time you need to take care of your tail now to watch you swim (and help you carry back the eels)

Portia

She had her suspicions before you two even got together

She grew up on the coast and spent years on a pirate ship, she's plenty familiar with what merfolk are like

She just noticed all the little clues, exactly like a detective from one of her favorite books

The unusually fluid way your chest moved when you inhaled, your preference for fresh seafood, the way you always folded your legs together when you were resting, your uncanny sense of smell

She was a little surprised that you never talked about it, but she figured maybe living as a human was your personal preference or perhaps you had bad memories associated with it

So she never brought it up, and you never thought to tell her

One afternoon the two of you are strolling through the marketplace together, picking up groceries and odds and ends to have around the cottage

She's keeping an eye out for new toys for Pepi, and then she hears you casually mention that oh yeah, you're running low on polish

What silver polish, there's tubs of it at home

Oh, scale polish, that makes sense - wait - you're talking about your tail, this is new, Arcana help her how does she respond

You see her fumbling and realize you never mentioned it before, and now you're both frantically explaining yourselves to each other in the middle of the marketplace

As soon as she realizes you're comfortable being open about it, she's all in

She clears her schedule for "tail day" every few weeks and will sit on the bathroom floor with you, hair tied up and sleeves rolled back, helping you reach all the tricky spots and telling you stories so you don't get bored

Lucio

He didn't really find out in the best moment

He doesn't know something unless you spell it out for him, so the concept of you being anything besides human never came close to touching his brain

So to say he was blindsided is an understatement

The two of you were on one of your more intense jobs, cornering and freeing a villager who'd accepted a deal with a demon and subsequently gone crazy

The sheepish look he gave you when you first got the details of the assignment will make you smile for years

Anyways, you two are perfectly suited for the job

He's in charge of tracking and trapping your target, and then while they're distracted, you'll leap in and break their chains

At least that's how it was supposed to go

The target noticed you too early and cast a spell to revert you to your true form, since they could sense you were using some kind of magic to appear as you did and assumed they were calling a bluff

You can still use magic in mer form, it's just awkward to do so sprawled across a leafy forest floor

You free the villager easily since they're so caught off guard, but the spell's effects linger for another hour

Lucio has to carry you back with an apologetic villager trailing behind you

At first he's a little hurt, why were you hiding such a pretty thing from him?

But once you tell him it slipped your mind to mention it, he's all over it

Now he regularly begs you to shift for him anytime it's remotely convenient, so he can admire and play with your tail some more

[spookyspecterino]

hiiiiiiii I love love love your writing and I saw you wrote a little thing for sam coe, and I wanted to request something if you feel like it or have the time (perfectly okay if you don't wanna) buuut I was thinkinggg

maybe something where the reader/captain is already in a relationship with sam, and cora accidentally calls her mom, and then it's this whole cute awkward fluffy thing?

besides that I hope you're having a good day/week mwah

Sorry this is so short, I wrote it really fast in between work meetings. Writing fanfiction on the company dime really makes me happy. Hope you're doing well too! ❤️

Sam Coe x F!Reader (it could be GN!Reader too, no gender/pronoun is mentioned, as long as you're ok with being called mom)

No warnings (all fluff)

"Hey Cora?"

Something clangs from further back in the ship. "Yeah?"

"You left your tools over here again."

Smaller footsteps patter closer on the metal floors.

The bag of tools lay scattered around your feet in a disorderly mess. Better that you found it instead of Sam, otherwise he might feel compelled to do his "dad duties" as he calls them and give Cora a lecture.

Cora rounds the corner, hair fluffed from the running. "Shoot!" She dives down and starts picking them up. "Sorry, mom!"

She pauses, frozen. "Ah..."

Mom? Was that a mistake or just an accident? For a moment there she sounded like she might apologize. Cora falls quiet as she continues to pick up the tools, her pace has picked up. She's scrambling as her cheeks turn a deep red.

Bending down next to her you help pick up the tools at a more steady and relaxed pace. She glances at you more than a few times, careful not to touch you or go for the same tool. Maybe it's time to say something.

"It's ok Cora. I thought it was sweet."

Now she looks at you fully, sitting up. "Really? It's not...weird... or anything?"

You ruffle her hair, messing it up even more. "Not at all. As long as you're comfortable, you can call me whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Ok, 'cause...um..." She grips the tool she's holding, some kind of wrench, with both hands. "It just kinda came out. But...I liked saying it." Her eyes flicker to yours then away.

Gently taking the tool from her hands, you put it away and then pull her into a hug. Her frizzy hair tickles your face. "You're not going to freak me out, Cora. I promise. If you liked it, then keep calling me mom. I think it's nice."

Her shoulders relax and the 12 year old melts into the hug wrapping her arms around you. She's still too small to reach around you completely and something about that is so precious.

Pulling back a little, you look down with a kind smile. "We should get the rest of the tools picked up so your dad doesn't make you read the ship safety manual again."

"Uggh. Yeah." She pulls the tool bag closer. "He's made me read it so many times I've practically memorized it."

"Is there a section about picking up tools?"

Cora makes a lighthearted face at you. "Section 4.1.1.3. Instructions for the proper management and storage of all ship equipment and tools relating to ship maintenance."

You whistle low. "Damn girl. And you're still leaving them out?"

Cora giggles. "I promise I'm not doing it on purpose."

Boot heels click on the floor behind you and Cora. "Do what on purpose?"

Cora snaps the bag closed after throwing the last tool away. Sam looks like he's already picked up on the conversation.

"Cora..." He warns.

You stand, wiping your pant legs. "Hey, Cora was just helping me with something."

"Mhm." His eyes dart to his daughter and back to you. "Helping you pick up her mess?"

"Easy there." You press a hand to his chest, and kiss him on the cheek. "Being strict doesn't suit you."

Despite his initial stern attitude he chuckles and eases under your touch. "Is that so?"

The tool bag clinks together as Cora stands, holding the heavy bag with both hands. It pulls Sam's attention away from you and he goes back to being irritated.

"Cora Coe--"

You cut in before he can start. "Thanks for your help, Cora. Will you please go check the regulators in the back for me?"

"Will do!" She beams at you and takes off before Sam can say anything else, the sound of the tools banging together in the bag fades as she goes.

Sam wraps a hand around your waist and presses his face to the side of your head, giving you a kiss. "You're spoiling her rotten."

"She called me mom."

He pulls back slightly, studying your face. "Yeah?"

"I thought it was really nice."

Sam hums, content, and pulls you back to him. "Good. Is that why you let her get away with not picking up her tools?"

"She's 12, Sam. She's busy discovering the universe and having fun. Go easy on her." You peck his cheek again. "I bet you were way messier when you were 12."

He leans in like he wants to kiss you more seriously, chasing your lips, but he pauses at the memories of being 12. He sighs. "You've got a point there."

"Exactly."

He tries to sneak another kiss, but you dodge him with a sly grin. His fingers grip at your clothes as you pull away teasingly. "I have to go watch the controls up front."

Sam trails lazily after you with a smile. "Would you like company?"

"Are you going to distract me?" You ask, walking slowly backwards.

"It wouldn't be like me if I didn't at least try to."

"Alright then, cowboy. Do your worst."

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

could you trust them with your houseplants? blue lock edition

a/n: crack treated seriously for all the plant havers, lovers and other enthusiasts. i did this for another fandom i write for and figured ‘why not blue lock’ after talking with my friend @cafedanslanuit about what plant i’d give her and reo as a housewarming gift

a no question. your plants are thriving like you never left to begin with. probably your go to plant sitter if something comes up and you have to leave for a while. you will definitely come home to your plants not only being alive but in pristine condition. maybe there will even be a new leaf sprouting when you come back. responsible, reliable, and you can rest easy knowing if another situation arises where you have to leave your plants will be fine.

chigiri (royalty recognizes royalty because your plants do well in his hands. he tends to your plants as carefully as he tends his leg and his hair. just make sure your plant is pet friendly because if it isn’t, it’s not coming in his house)

kunigami (looked up plant care guides and youtube videos because he refuses to let one of your plants die after you left him in charge of them. might even consider getting a plant of his own afterwards since he enjoyed the experience of checking on the little guys after practice or a bad game. it made him feel a little better to be distracted caring for something else)

rin (you’d think he’d be bad but he manages to fit plant care into his meticulous schedule with no mistakes)

barou (he complains that your plants are pest bringers but he takes care of them quite well and none of them ever have infestations on his watch because he checks them everyday. if something is even a little off, he is right on it)

the ‘technically a no question’ wild card:

nagi (it depends on how high maintenance your plant is. if it is low maintenance like choki, great. your plant is thriving because the man barely had to do anything for it. but you’ve got something a bit more high maintenance like a calathea or a peace lily, nagi will be struggling. but just how he sprung into action when he saw reo distraught that they might lose, even if your plant is high maintenance he tries his best because he knows how much it means to you)

do not leave your houseplants under any circumstances with these individuals because you will come back to less plants than you started with. if they even remember to water them, they will definitely water them too much. even if your plant manages to recover from the lack of proper care, they’re never the same afterwards. no you’re not being dramatic, plant murderer, you know how your plants are like on a good day and it has been nothing but bad day after bad day since you’ve come back

ryuusei (why did you even ask him to watch it in the first place? that was your first mistake and you just have to live with the consequences now. he probably killed them on purpose, just to fuck with them. threw hard vodka on them and everything)

reo (bro can’t keep a plant alive to save his own life and neither of you know why. you swear he touched your zz for one second and it flopped over immediately. YOUR FUCKING ZZ! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE OF THE TOP HARD TO KILL PLANTS. he becomes a houseplant serial killer afterwards because he keeps buying plants over and over again swearing ‘this time will be different’ but the end result is all the same)

sae (he literally forgot that you asked and watered none of your plants. he eventually noticed them after the wilting and then sent you a text of them going ‘my bad. i’ll get you some new ones’)

you HAD a plant. now it is theirs and there’s no way you’re getting it back when you return home. they developed an emotional attachment to your plants through the many odd hours of talking to them randomly and getting excited when a new leaf or bloom would sprout on a stem. now your plants have been conveniently relocated to their room and any decisions about said plant needs to be passed by them. apparently you don’t appreciate “little rain” enough. yes, they even named it

isagi (if you aren’t living together yet, he is coming up with excuses as to why he can’t bring it back yet. he’s sure that little noel noa might have mealy bugs and we can’t have that spreading to the new monstera you bought right? when you tell him there’s no bugs on it though and to return your baby, he looks like that photo his mom showed you of him of when he was a toddler holding holding his football closely to his chest as he holds little noel noa and you can’t help but cave)

bachira (bro bought a houseplant stroller to take your plant on walks, put stickers on their pot and would probably take it to watch him practice if isagi didn’t draw a line on bringing plants to practice. when you ask for your plant back he just goes “our plant, babe”)