#and the second one isn’t even fully outlined so it’s likely to be longer than 50 chapters lmao

[mutated-green-things]

I really feel my perspective on what constitutes as “short” fic has shifted because I think this newest katanashipping thing I’m working on is going to be close to 5,000 words and I’m like “yeah that’s still pretty short”

[stillalittlelostngl]

Gojo/Reader Sick Day NSFW

 So this is a one-shot rn but i’m thinking of making it maybe an interconnected series of them? I toyed w/ the idea of a fully fleshed out story for it but idk. I don’t really have a good idea of the reader’s character to get heavy into a plot like that. One shots where i don’t have to develop a background and distinct character motivations tho? I can do that. Maybe something will come to me and i’ll circle back around to it idk. I’m also working on a geto/reader (honestly haven’t truly decided on the pairing yet - toss up between nanami & geto) that i’m actually really excited about so i feel like i’d be spreading myself a bit thin. If you want a good gojo/reader fic go check out mushmoon12’s - the girls are being fed w/ it omg. 

I’ve had the outline of this ready to go since November and have just been sitting on it.

You can’t hold back the mumbled curses as you shift around. Your body unable to get comfortable no matter which way you twist and turn under the mountain of blankets you had  piled on top of yourself before falling asleep. 

Everything is much too warm and your body aches as you move. Your fever has not gone down it seems. 

You had woken earlier that day with a kick drum pounding behind your eyes, your throat scratchy and your skin searing hot to the touch. You weren’t used to feeling anything other than ‘normal’ so the cold you’d developed had you convinced you were at death’s door. Calling in sick from classes left a bad taste in your mouth but the thought of pushing your aching body to get dressed and walk all the way across campus was less and less appealing by the second.

You’re not sure if the text you’d sent to Yaga had been coherent - your mind was much too foggy to concern itself with such details - but after sending it you had promptly rolled back over and cocooned yourself into your bed, hoping to sleep off whatever it was that had you feeling so miserable. 

It hadn’t worked, of course, you realize as your mind becomes more and more present. With an irritated huff you work on untangling yourself, the process taking longer as your limbs feel like dead weight as you try to coordinate yourself. 

You finally manage to get your head out from beneath the covers, your eyes squinting at the harsh light you don’t recall turning on, and you let out a soft gasp of surprise when the first thing you see after returning to the world of the living is deep cerulean. 

“Mornin’”, Satoru’s smile is all teeth and he’s certainly made himself comfortable on your bed as his larger body has somehow taken up most of the space. He’s laid out like he owns the place. You’re not all that sure of when he got there. Or how. You’re certain your door had been locked before you went to bed last night. 

You raise a questioning brow to him, “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see how pathetic you are when you’re sick,” he brings one of his hands to your forehead, feeling the fever on your skin and clicks his tongue, “I didn’t believe Yaga at first but you really are in a bad way, huh? Poor thing.” 

You’d roll your eyes at his teasing if you could find the energy for it. 

"Fuck off,” is all you can manage to mumble before attempting to shift away from him. Entertaining him when you feel as if you’d been hit with a semi isn’t sounding all that appealing. 

"Hey, hey," his hands make quick work of stopping you from moving away from him, "Don't be like that. How are you even more cranky than usual? You must be feeling better.” He pulls your face back to him and his eyes examine you under those long white lashes. He takes in the rosy hue of your cheeks and the glazed over look in your eyes. It’s all looking very familiar to him even if he’d never seen you sick before. You recognize the look in his eyes too. 

You blame the sudden dizzy feeling overtaking your brain on the fever. 

"I know!” he suddenly releases your face and claps his hands as he arrives at a thought, not paying attention to how the sharp noise causes you to wince slightly "let's play doctor. I'll take real good care of you.” 

"Please, I'm surprised you manage to keep yourself alive day to day.”

"Come on,” he insists as his hands begin uncovering the rest of your body from the blankets, ignoring your protests, “It'll be fun. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you practically hiss as you put up a weak resistance against his wandering hands. 

“Not really what I had in mind,” the octave his voice takes causes you to still in your movements. He smiles down at you with that shit eating grin. The one that promises that he’s up to no good. You’ve seen it a million times - usually it’s reserved for when he’s about to do something to annoy Yaga that you and Geto try to talk him out of. More recently, though, he’s been using it when it’s just you two. 

A trill goes down your spine, heating your body further at the thought of the good trouble he’s been the cause of recently. 

You nearly hiss when he finally manages to uncover the rest of your body. The cool air hitting your overheated skin brings some relief but it’s short lived as his hands begin to travel to where your sleeping top has ridden up, his fingers ghosting along the skin as he toys with the hem. 

His eyes drink in the sight of you in that way that makes your stomach do flips before he startings leaning down towards you again, bringing his face closer and closer to your own. 

Gojo let's out a soft questioning hum when his lips meet your cheek instead of the intended target. You can see the pout already forming on his lips, upset that you had turned your head from him and denied him. He always pouted when he didn’t get his way. Spoiled brat. 

"I could get you sick,” you explain as you bring your hands to the ones that are still playing with the fabric of your top. Tempting as he was, one of you had to be sensible and you knew it was never going to be him. 

His pout quickly morphs into another shit eating grin at your explanation. “Oh, you really do care about me. Don’t you?” 

You barely get a mumbled ‘shut up’ out before he silences you with a kiss. His lips quickly molding against yours and silencing whatever harsh words you had for him. You can’t help the small moan as his tongue slips against yours. 

He shifts above you, caging you in-between his body and the mattress as he moves to pepper sloppy kisses and bites down your neck and collarbone, tasting the slight salty sheen of sweat that coats your skin. Your breath shudders at the feeling of his teeth as he marks you. He’s always eager to leave marks on your skin - you want to hate him for it. You’ve told him so many times to be mindful of where he leaves them, not wanting to suffer the awkward glances that others might send your way should they see them. You’re certain the idea of others seeing evidence of the time the two of you spend together only encourages him to do it more. Bastard. 

It’s hard to stay mad at him though. At least when his mouth is moving against your skin like this. 

He pulls back from his work for a moment, surely admiring it you think in irritation, before his eyes raise and meet yours. When you offer no further protest he rewards you with a kiss as his hands begin removing what little clothing you had on. His eagerness making quick work of the process. His hands and mouth travel across the expanse of newly exposed skin. His fingers dip between your folds and you feel him smile against your skin. You’re already soaking wet. 

"You're not being a very good doctor, you know,” your breath is airy, the feeling of his fingers against you sends a buzz of pleasure throughout your body. Your mind too muddled with desire to think as his other hand moves your thighs further apart to make room for him. Anticipation coiling the spring further and you nearly forget how to breathe properly, "More like a pervert taking advantage.” 

"Semantics,” his breath ghosts along your skin as he moves further down your body. 

Your hands rush forward to grab his head, stopping him. He stares at you, the question evident on his face and you can’t help but look away in embarrassment. 

 "I feel gross" and you do. The sweat from your fever doesn’t exactly feel sexy in the moment. 

"I'm gunna make a mess of you either way" he says, continuing his descent as his fingers resume their exploration of you. You can’t stop the gasp as he pushes one inside of you, it glides in easily to the first knuckle. Your soft flesh warming him to the bone, "does it really matter?" The feeling of his breath on your clit as his finger slowly begins to pump in a steady rhythm nearly makes you forget every thought you’ve ever had. 

"I guess not" 

He wastes little time pressing his tongue against you, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head at the overwhelming sensation as he slips another finger into you, stretching you out further. You’re mesmerized by the sight he makes between your thighs, gripping his white hair tightly as you groan at the heat building inside of you. The feeling of your nails raking through his hair against his scalp is enough to have him choking out his own moan. The sound vibrating against your core and sending another wave of pleasure through you.

You can’t help the incoherent babbling of praise and encouragement that falls from your lips when his fingers increase in tempo and his lips lock around your clit.  It has you squirming in his hold, trying to meet each thrust of his fingers. 

Your desire builds, steadily climbing but your hazy mind recognizes that it’s not enough. You need more. 

He lets you pull his head up to yours. You nearly whine as you feel his fingers slip out of you, your heat cleaning around the new emptiness as you bring his lips to yours again. You taste yourself on his lips as your tongue explores his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull his body closer to yours. You feel his length straining against his pants as your grind your hips against his, the friction sending small electric currents of pleasure throughout your body but still not enough. 

You force your aching muscles to move and soon enough you find yourself on top of him. In the back of your mind you want to think that you surprised him with the movement but you know that he’s only under you because he allowed it. 

He’s smiling up at you, his eyes heavy lidded with desire as his hands come to rest on your hips. He looks nearly delirious and you’re sure he could say the same for you. 

“Eager, are you?” his teasing is cut short with a groan as you grind down on him again. The fabric between you doing little to mask the feeling of him against you. 

You bite your tongue to prevent your own reply to his stupid remark, opting instead to pull on his waistband and release his dick from the restraint of his pants. You nearly smirk as he lets out a soft hiss at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him, he’s always been so sensitive that even the slightest touch from you can draw noises from him. 

Your other hand goes to balance yourself on his chest as you raise your hips. You can’t stop your own noises from spilling from your lips as you lower yourself onto him. His nails sink into your flesh deeper as you take him inside of you inch by inch. He doesn’t bother to quiet the loud moan when you finally have his dick fully inside of you. He never bothers to be quiet. 

Your pace starts off steady as you move against him. Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you fight off your own moans at the look of him beneath you. His pale skin is flushed, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open. You raise your hips higher, his length nearly slipping out of your completely before you’re slamming yourself back down onto him. The action drawing noises from both of you, his dick buried so deep inside of you with each movement that it leaves you seeing stars. His fingers digging into your hips leave small indentations as his grip tightens, small curses leaving his lips as he watches you move on him. 

"You're supposed to be the one taking care of me and here I am doin all the work," you moan, digging your own nails into the skin of his chest as punishment, "fucking spoiled brat." 

"You wanna be spoiled too baby?" He grabs your hips suddenly, taking control as he thrusts up into you. He angles himself just right to hit that sweet spot again and again. The one that makes you sing for him. "Cmon, is this what you wanted? Gotta use your words" he teases, knowing that he's fucking any sense right out of you. 

Your grasp of how to coherently string together a sentence in any human language is lost to you. Instead, you find yourself whimpering and throwing any arrangements of syllables together that would get him to just keep doing that. The tips of your ears begin to burn as you feel yourself reaching your peak. His thrusts become harder and deeper as he feels you beginning to clench around him, knowing the signs that you’re close has him chasing his own release. 

Gojo’s always been such a visual creature. The sight of you fucking yourself onto him, his length entering your wet heat, your whole body being rocked by his thrusts is nearly enough for him finish right then and there. It isn’t until he feels you spasming over him and his name tumbling out of your mouth like a prayer that the pressure becomes too much. His thrusts become erratic as pulls your body down against his, drawing out your orgasm with each movement. The pressure snaps with one final thrust into you, his warmth filling you to the brim as he releases a strangled cry of your name. He pumps into you a few more times, riding out his wave until there’s nothing left. You can feel his heart hammering away in his chest as you both take a moment to catch your breath. 

When you look up at him you find his eyes already trained on you. His pupils are still so blown out that they nearly overtake the entirety of the blue you’ve grown so attached to. His smile isn’t the cocky self-assured one or the shit eating grin that you’ve grown to associate him with. It’s a soft thing that is so unlike him you almost think you’re seeing things. His hand rises to your cheeks and the kiss is soft too. Tender, even, as he holds you against him. He pulls back from you with a content sigh. 

“That was really dumb.” you can’t help but say, “you’re going to be really annoying in the next few days when you start to come down with whatever I have.”

He scoffs. 

“Please, as if I’d get sick,” he says as if the idea is entirely ludacris. Maybe it is. With a power like his, who knows. 

You turn your head down hiding your own soft smile as you bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

It’s followed by a sharp yelp of pain from his as you bite down against the skin. 

Just enough to hurt. 

Just enough to remind him he’s human too.

____

He does get sick and like predicted is very fucking needy about it and whines to you to take care of him

"You have to take responsibility! You did this to me" "Dumbass I told you you'd get sick! This isn't my responsibility!" "How was I supposed to know this would happen? You should've been smarter and stopped me" "You had your tongue down my throat! Of course this would happen"

you do end up playing nurse. He's so demanding and childish but it's also...kinda cute.

[pricemarshfield]

ahh ahh ah general 1, 6; story specific 2, 12; romance 1 for tav!!! <3

this got. unimaginably long. i am so sorry. two of these questions have answers longer than three paragraphs. i’m sooo normal about bg3 why do you ask?

1. Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

the crash site! you can find her interrogating that trapped mind flayer to no avail, until she realizes it’s no use and uses lightning to fry the thing alive. at that point the player can interject (either complimenting her magic, condemning her brutality, or just sitting silently and watching). she startles no matter what, and then BAM tadpole moment. once that passes and she ascertains you’re not responsible for the tadpole, she offers to join you, saying she’s as much a healer as she is a fighter and could be great help, implying she’s a cleric of a deity of nature. besides, best to stick together in such times, no? and there’s a passive insight check that, if passed, will have the narrator reveal she is being fully genuine in her offer, but that she isn’t being honest about what she is. which leads nicely into:

6. Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

a few, actually! one can be talked out of her in your first non-recruitment conversation with a high enough persuasion check, which is what deity she worships: talos. that guy wants the world destroyed! what the hell tav! regardless of if the player expresses disgust or approval, she talks with great reverence about the beauty of a storm, about how talos may be one of the tempest’s deities and she may be loyally his but the storm bends for no one and neither does she. (you can also flirt with her here with an “really? for no one? that’s disappointing”, and if you have high enough approval she’ll flirt back. with low approval she’ll scoff and say she’s had better offers from drunken sailors.)

the second is that she’s not NEAR as altruistic as she fronts. the player will find this out if they pay attention to her approvals: for all she’ll verbally condemn cruelty or aggressive acts, she often has no approval change whatsoever or even approves, and always disapproves at refusing money for heroic deeds. you can also ask her about this, but she won’t say anything with low approval UNLESS:

you side with the goblins. she will participate, though she doesn’t approve, and will question your motivations at the party. if you try to threaten her into staying or appeal to your friendship, she’ll laugh and say she really doesn’t care. with high approval, she’ll say she’s surprised that you didn’t realize that already. with low approval, she’ll sigh and say that it’s hardly like she was even trying to hide it, and it’s disappointing that you’re really as stupid as you seem.

no matter what, she’ll drop the righteous holy knight façade by act 2, because at that point she trusts you’ll not kill her for being kinda evil, if only because you need each other.

2. How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

immediate disapproval for taking any of his deals, even if you later tell her you’re not planning on following through. if you’ve managed to get her to drop the holy knight shtick, she’ll add that it’s not that she’s opposed to him on the basis of him being fiendish so much as failing to outline the terms (or the terms being horrid if you say you’ll give up your soul. i actually haven’t clicked that dialogue option does the game just end??)

HOWEVER. in act 3 if you break into the house of hope with her in the party she’ll complain and say that this is stupid. with high approval, she’s just whining and will continue the whole quest without issue. with low approval, there’ll be a roll to convince her to come with UNLESS you have lae’zel, shadowheart, or unascended astarion in the party, in which case they’ll be able to talk her into it with no roll necessary (lae’zel entreating her help on the orphic hammer to free her from/endear her to vlaakith, shadowheart jokingly sighing and saying it’s no surprise a cleric of shar/selûne is braver than a cleric of talos, astarion just egging her on with “you literally cannot stand that man, you’re going to let us ruin his day while you stay behind?”).

if you go to the house of hope and click on “a tour of tempest”, she’ll react to it, and will just “hm. interesting.” you can roll insight to see what she’s thinking. if you fail, it’s a good book! if you pass, she’s Genuinely taken aback that this is something raphael has.

if you have low approval + clicked the book, then when raphael starts singing, tav will be like okay. you know what. i cannot fucking stand [the player character]’s ass and while i DO not trust you, if you help with my tadpole i’ll help you kill them. HIGH dc persuasion or intimidation check to keep her in the party at this point; if failed, she’ll fight alongside raphael and Bam. no more tav 😔 if you bring her back vis withers after this she will scream at the top of her lungs and just try and kill you about it

12. Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

HMMM. yeah sure. i think orin-pretending-to-be-tav threatens yenna like orin-as-lae’zel does (very unlike her, she approves of helping yenna and is generally protective when it comes to children). if you save her, it preempts the above leaving the party for raphael thing even with low approval.

1. Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

YEAH ♥️ i honestly don’t think there’d be any specific requirements beyond a general approval cap. beyond what i’ve talked about before, approval is generally netted by being curious about the world and its magic, respecting her softer side/love of art and adventure (player character!tav is a bard multiclass ♥️ ), and not trying to push her either towards blind faith in or completely breaking from her god, respecting the weird tightrope she’s chosen to walk. if she flirts with you at the tiefling party and you turn her down, she and lae’zel will hook up (and she’ll be very annoyed the next morning if you sleep with lae’zel, muttering something about everyone else in camp having too much baggage for what she’s looking for atm).

[fillthattank]

Beer, belly, and strategy

"Dude, what happened to your gut? You swallowed a cow, or what?" Steve said, seeing me walk into the bar.

"Nah, I just had a big meal. Got carried away," I said, giving my belly a slight pat. It was indeed bloated, stretching my shirt by about as much as my pecs did.

"You sure you didn't start hitting the beers without us?" Ethan teased, giving my belly a poke. To be fair to him, my belly was about as big as it often got after our drinking sessions: round and hard, contrasting with my muscular build.

"C'mon, you know I'd never do that! I want you guys to know exactly how much I drink, so you know when I beat you, and by how much," I replied.

"Ha! Good luck drinking more beer than us with all that food in your gut," Steve teased, as we ordered our first round of drinks. 

I smiled. I fully intended to out drink them tonight, and by a lot. I had a plan: since the more food you had in your system, the slower you got drunk, I decided that if I ate a massive meal before going to the bar, I'd be able to drink a lot more beer before I started feeling sick. Of course, the downside was that I'd be starting with a much fuller stomach than usual. I was hoping the food inside my belly would soak up the first few pints of beer, and that my stomach would digest it at roughly the same rate I was topping it up with more beer. And I had a big capacity anyway.

As per tradition, we all chugged our first pint down in one go, then got a second. I felt my stomach expand slightly, but nothing a big guy like me couldn't handle. And I was drinking at the same speed as my friends, which was all that mattered.

The third pint went in the belly. Then the fourth. My stomach had stretched considerably, sticking out far from beneath my pecs by now, and I could feel it tug slightly whenever I swallowed more beer.

"Reaching your limit?" said Ethan, sounding a lot less sober than when we started.

"Not even close," I said. Okay, maybe I was starting to get full, but the alcohol still hadn't taken any effect on me so far. It was like drinking water. All I needed was my stomach to hold, and this was going to be a drinking session for the ages.

"Bro," Steve slurred, "we don't want you to burst! We just want to beat you, that's all!"

"I'm not going to burst. And I'm not going to lose," I said. I patted my belly, and resumed chugging.

Getting up to order more drinks, I could feel the extra weight push down upon my legs. It wasn't a problem - I was used to lifting twice my weight in the gym -, but it was a sign of how much I'd packed into the tank.

"Damn son,"  said the bartender, his eyes focused on my belly, "how much beer did you drink?"

"Only 7 pints so far," I said. "I had a big meal."

"He's had as much to drink as me, or Steve," Ethan said, "we just didn't eat a whole christmas dinner before!"

"Remember, kids, pace yourself," the bartender said, serving our drinks. "Even the biggest belly has a limit. I see guys find that out the hard way all the time."

Steve and Ethan were nowhere near as bloated as me, but they both had prominent bellies by now, stretching the fabric of their shirts. You could even guess the outline of Steve's abs, his stomach looking like a turtle shell filled with beer.

I was more bloated than them, but by now, I was drinking much faster: Steve was on his 9th pint, while Ethan was still finishing his 8th, but I had just finished my 11th. Over a gallon of beer inside my stomach, and almost as much food. And I was still going strong.

"Duuuuude, how does your gut not explode?" said Steve.

"Because I'm a badass, that's why," I replied. I lifted up my shirt to show off my musclegut, but felt a slight relief as my belly was no longer constrained.

"Holy shit," said Steve, putting a hand on my belly, " the pressure in here is just crazy! Check it out, Ethan.”

Ethan in turn put his hand on my gut, and said, "fuck, this isn't a belly, this is a keg!"

"Told you I was a badass," I said, flexing my arms and pushing out my gut. The fact I could still push it out suggested there was still room for a lot more beer in there.

So, I kept on drinking. The pints were chugged, and each time, the belly made room. My pace had slowed down a bit, my stomach was tensed, I was burping more often, and maybe I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, but I had no intention of stopping.

Ordering more beers at the counter, I got an idea. I took one glass in each hand, and balanced the third on the top of my belly. It jutted out at a right angle from under my pecs, and stuck out so far that I could walk back to our table without spilling the beer.

"Dude, we get it, you've won" said Ethan, seeing me. He was half splayed over the table, drunk, exhausted, and too full to drink any more. Steve, meanwhile, was sitting back in his chair, one hand resting on a half empty pint glass, the other slowly stroking a very full belly. He was still hoping he'd manage to force down the rest of his beer, I could tell, but there was no way his belly was budging any farther.  

Ethan and Steve were no small guys, and they'd drunk an impressive amount, but I easily had more beer in my stomach than both of them combined. Twice as much, maybe. In addition to a huge meal!

I could have called it a night, and enjoyed both my victory and my very full belly. But I was competitive, high on my win, and drunk. So I kept drinking. And drinking.

With each gulp of beer I swallowed, I could feel my stomach stretch, the pressure mount, and my belly expand. My abs were stretched so far I couldn't flex them if I tried. Getting up from my chair felt like squatting at the gym, and walking felt like hiking with a week's supplies in my backpack, except it was all in my belly.

I was burping more often, and I was burping louder. And each time I burped, I felt the extra place open up in my stomach, telling me I could in fact drink more beer.

I'm not sure when we left the bar. Maybe we got kicked out, maybe we left at closing time, like everyone else, all I know is that by then, I had multiple gallons of beer inside my belly.

"It's funny," I remember hearing Steve joke, "when you arrived, I said you looked like you'd swallowed a cow! And now, well, you really look like you've swallowed an actual cow!"

We crashed at Ethan's flat, the closest to the bar. I lied down on his couch - or did I fall?-, and Steve and Ethan sat down on each side of me, both rubbing my huge musclegut. I felt great. I was the biggest badass in town, my belly had more beer in it than ever, and I had my two best friends with me.

Then I remembered. The hangover.

I'd made a habit of drinking lots of water during my beer binges,  to lessen my hangovers, but tonight, my quest to break all records had led me to forget about water. I jumped off the couch, and dashed to the sink.

"Bro, what the fuck?" said Steve.

I put my mouth over the tap, and started drinking. After all that alcohol, the water tasted sweeter than pure sugar. Every gulp forced my stomach even larger, compressing the insides of my body, tensing my abs even more. There's no way my sober self would do this to my belly, even with how competitive I was, but my drunk mind saw things differently.

"Dude, that's too much, even for you!" said Ethan.

I put a hand on my belly. It was harder than concrete, but somehow still expanding. The pressure inside was so strong it had turned my belly button into an outie.

Then, it stopped. My belly stopped growing, and I couldn't swallow any more. The water from the tap was flowing straight out of my mouth, down into the sink.

"Guys... I think I'm full," I said.

I opened my mouth to burp, but nothing came out. There was no air left in my stomach, every inch of available space was taken up by beer, water, or food. It was so heavy that just by standing, I could feel my leg muscles work hard to support my weight.

Steve and Ethan were staring at me, eyes and mouths wide open. Looking equally concerned and impressed.

"Bro, you okay?" Steve asked.

"Never felt better," I replied. The pain and strain from having drank so much was nothing compared to the immense satisfaction from knowing that my belly could, in fact, hold this much.

I laid back down on the couch, and before I knew it, Steve and Ethan were on each side of me, massaging my gut just the way I liked. The perfect way to finish a night.

"You know you've probably permanently stretched your stomach from this?" Ethan said.

"I guess so," I said. "Can't wait to see how much I'll be able to fit into this bad boy next time."

[luimagines]

Perhaps them being protective over you(the reader)? Mostly platonic but hints of romantic(if you get what I mean?) Like, the relationship between them has been platonic and they’ve only really seen it has platonic, but someone(the Heroes) might be catching feelings. Also if it isn’t too much trouble do you think you could keep this in the same timeline? Like, your other scenarios had the same reader and felt like these all happened at some point, can you do the same for this one? I hope this isn’t too much trouble, really love your blog!💖💖💖

Masterlist

Ok, I think I get what you mean. The Hero is protective with a hint of feelings they haven't come to terms with. They're crushing but they don't know it yet.

I don't know what you mean by the same timeline though. It wasn't supposed to be the same reader for all of them but hey! It be like that sometimes, I guess! Especially if they're just friends.

The Reader is also set to be the same age as Wind for his scenario.

Warrior's got longer than intended and there is some catcalling in that one. FYI

Scenario under the cut!

Legend

"You can be seriously going out in that." Legend couldn't help but snap. The group had been dropped into a snowcapped mountain in the middle of a blizzard. The only luck they had on their side was a nearby cave where they all but ran to in an attempt to weather the storm and get their bearings.

But someone still had to scout and you were planning to take Wild and Twilight with you since they were the only ones who could both brace the cold and most likely find their way back.

He, however, didn't like the idea of you going out there period.

Even less so when he found you severely underdressed compared to your companions.

It seemed however, that you saw no problem with it, even going as far as to tilt your head and look down at what you were wearing at his comment. It sparked something in Legend's chest that he wasn't willing to decipher at the moment.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked.

"Are you serious right now?" Legend scowled. The top you wore was tight around your chest and the cloak that clasped at the front billowed around you ever so slightly from the wind at the front of the cave. There were thin layers of furs under your linen over shirts that matched the fur lining your boots outlining your figure and silhouette in a way he found irritating.

The light that barely peaked through the clouds lit up your form gave you a halo of light over your head and made you look more of a hero than he ever would have pictured you.

It didn't sit well with him.

"That doesn't nearly look warm enough. If you plan on going out in that then you'll freeze within the first ten minutes." He crossed his arms and stared you down, willing you to disagree, to challenge him, keep you here longer so one of the others can pick up the lack and go instead.

"It's bear fur Legend." You reply instead with an easy grin your face. He elected to ignore it because he was trying to stay mad and irritated at the lack of care you seemed to have for your own safety. Why weren't the others backing him up?! Wouldn't Twilight have said something by now?! Or Time?!

Why was it just him?

How dare you smile like that? And at him no less! He's trying to make a point, darn it! It's hard to concentrate when you look so... innocent and bright and happy and-

Focus Link.

"I actually have four layers on as well." You continue and peel back what you can to show him what your clothing looks like. Unknowingly giving him a great look at your figure beneath said layers. "Two layers of wool and two of fur and I still have my clothes under here as well. Without enchantments like Wild, it's probably the warmest thing here. I'll be alright."

He can't bring himself to believe it.

He grits his teeth and continues to look at you, not bothering to spare a glance at Wild or Twilight when they eventually join your side, both now ready to head out.

"Honestly Legend. I know it doesn't look like much but I grew up around snow and ice and mountainous storms. If anyone knows what they're doing here, it's me."

He knows this. You told him. He knows that he knows this.

Why can't he believe it?

His hand forms a fist with a tight grip and he gets an idea.

Before he can fully think it through, he's marching up to you and snatches up your hand before you can protest.

You haven't put on your gloves yet so it's skin on skin.

He can't think much of it or he'll lose his nerve and he's already gone too far to go back now or he'll only be making a fool of himself.

Legend all but rips the most powerful ring he has on his person and shoves it onto your own. It's a protection ring, it'll shield you if anything tries to hurt you.

He's not entirely sure why he cares so much, just that he does, and this is all he can do if no one is going to back him up and stop you from going.

"I want this back." He says. He knows it sounds meaner than he's intending but then you let him put it on, take your hand back and marvel at it for a moment.

"I'll protect this with my life." You flex your hand, testing out how it feels and wonder what magic it must posses for Legend to not only give it up but deem it worth for the storm outside.

"Thanks Vet." You grin brighter and Legend finds himself floundering for a moment at the intensity of it.

The tips of his turn red, he knows this and he forces himself to distance himself or else the others would notice.

Your trio disappears into the white and he sits down by the fire made for the smaller ones of the group. He hasn't made eye contact with anyone since you left and he makes the mistake of trying to casually play it off by looking up.

Time is watching him with a knowing smile on his face.

"What?" Legend barks and scowls at the attention.

The older man just laughs a bit to himself and shakes his head but he doesn't say anything.

Legend thinks back on his actions a little sooner than he thinks he should and glances at his hand. The hand that grabbed yours.

Despite the journey, your hands were so soft.

He can't help but smile.

Time

Time was watching the over the group for the morning shift, his hand over his sword and his eyes watching... well you.

You intrigued Time.

Out all the heroes of courage on this journey, you weren't one of them. You weren't a Link and yet you seemed to fill a gap the group didn't know it had.

He couldn't figure out why or how but he found himself wanting to know what made you tick, why did you work so well with the others, what your world was like, and how did it mold you to be so....

He had trouble finding a word for it.

As the boys rough housed and played around, he found himself relaxing. It was a quiet morning and he had the added support of Wolfie on look out for any monsters.

He put his sword down and and walked over to where you were.

You were sitting with a book in your lap, something he found you doing often. But this time you were ignoring the book, laughing at Wind's and Wild's antics as they blasted each other with their Deku leaves. Wind continuously knocked the Champion around but neither of them seemed to mind.

If anything, it appeared the were doing on purpose and were trying to see how far he'd go.

Boys.

He could feel the smile on his face as he made his way toward you.

"Enjoying the theatrics?" He spoke up.

You jumped with a small yelp, something he found endlessly entertaining.

"You're the biggest guy here! How are you so quiet?!" You yelled in his face with a pointed finger and hand on your chest.

Time chuckles and sits down next to you, sitting just close enough for your knees to brush. "Sorry. It's not always intentional, I promise."

"So you admit you do it on purpose!!" You turn to face him fully. Book absolutely forgotten.

Time finds himself pleased by the change.

"Occasionally." He grinned.

"Oh, and I so happen to be your favorite victim then?" You crossed you arms and leaned closer to him. Your words were biting but the smile on your face was teasing and the glint in your eye was knowing.

"Of course."

"You're impossible." You shove him away. "You're only like this because no one will ever suspect you."

"Is that so- LOOK OUT!" Time had noticed a second too late but in the seconds Time stopped paying attention to them, Wind and Wild had stopped launching each other and started launching objects.

Such objects like coconuts and hard wooden barrels.

Like the ones heading in your direction.

With no time to act, he grabs you and rolled out of the way, pressing you into his chest. The huddling objects bounced off of your spot, some exploding on impact while the rest crashed into the nearby trees and bushes.

It looked like a war zone.

Time held onto you for a second after the damage passed, waiting for any else to come your way. When nothing appeared, he began to let you go, looking down on you to see your reactions. "You ok?"

You had curled yourself into his chest, continuing to press yourself close to him even after he let go.

Time finds himself pleased by this as well.

"Well..." You took a deep breath and slowly looked up and around. "That was exciting."

"Are you hurt?" He asked again. You looked fine, if only a little shaken, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I think my leg got scratched in the chaos."

Time forces himself to stay calm and to not show any reaction. A scratch is better than getting hit head on. You'll be fine.

"What about you?" You look up to him again, eyes wide and bigger than he remembers and they were such a lovely color-

"I'm more concerned about you." He says, cutting his own thought process off. Time proceeds to get up, being as gentle as he can with you still in his arms. "I did just happen to grab you."

"Well, I'm sure it would have been worse if you hadn't." You grin at him and push yourself away.

Time now finds that he misses the feeling of you there but isn't able to focus on why when the two culprits are running up to you at break neck speeds.

"Are you two ok?!" Wind reaches you first.

"We're so sorry, we miscalculated the angle and it went wildly off our target." Wild continues and helps you to your feet.

Wind hovers near Time, unsure of what to do or how to help.

Time looks over to where you are, breathless but smiling dazzlingly. "We're ok." You tell Wild. "Just thrown around is all, we're fine."

Time sighs and stands up, putting his serious face on. "You boys better have a good explanation for this."

They could have hurt someone. They almost hurt you. His only consolation is how they squirm under his gaze.

Good.

Wind

"What the hell? What the hell? What the hell? What is this place?!"

Wind looked over his shoulder from the fight over to where you were, the monster he was fighting falling before him. It was a great thing in his eyes to no longer be the youngest of the group. Not only for there to be someone of his age to talk to but also get the group off of his back for some of their more dramatic attempts at keeping him safe.

Wind was having a blast.

Everyone had found a dungeon in the sense that they fell into it against their knowledge and will and had happened to land with partners.

He hopes so anyway.

But on his end, he's with you!

And he's loving it!

You've never judged him and you've always thought that his stories were great and this was a great opportunity to show you how cool he is in a fight without the others trying to stop him from doing all his cool stuff.

And as an added bonus, he loves spending time with you!

Wind was close to wishing on stars for more time to spend alone with you. The others were always around and always in his business. How lucky that it seems he got his wish without doing that little kid stuff, like star wishing.

He didn't take into account that this might be your first dungeon though.

...Guess you didn't have those in your world...

But that's fine! He'll just walk you through it. They're easy once you get a groove going, and as dungeons go, this one is old hat for him.

The enemies around you fall within minutes and you're a little more shaken up than he likes.

"You ok?" He puts his sword on his back and walks toward you. You're staring at the fallen enemy in front of you with your own sword still raised. There's a slight cut on your arm, a red line going across and down, but Wind is almost certain that the cut is across...the blood is just going down your arm.

Wind takes a moment to quiet the sudden and unexpected rage. The monsters are lucky, he thinks, that they're already dead.

He grips his wrist tightly at the sight and places his other hand on your own. You gulp slightly and look at him tearfully. "Wind, where are we?"

You're scared, he realizes.

Scared, and alone and you don't know what kind of place this is.

There's another cut just above your eye and there more blood going down your face.

Wind feels himself fill with determination. He has the experience you lack to make it through here. He has been in more fights than you have. He knows what he's doing.

He's going to make sure you get out of here without being afraid anymore.

"Come on." Wind lets himself go and places his hand on top of yours, gently pushing the sword down and make a small effort to lace your fingers together. His other hand grips his sleeve and he begins to swipe it across your face, trying to clean the blood the best he can. "We're going to find the others, ok? We just have to keep going and if we're lucky we'll find a map, maybe a compass and it'll help us get out of here. We'll be back with the others in no time!"

You gulp and nod, tightening your grip on his hand and let him lead you through the unknown. Your voice is quiet and soft and Wind finds that he wants to hear it more often like this...just not laced with fear. "Ok. I trust you."

Wind nearly preens at your words, a large smile overtaking his face.

He'll protect you and you won't have to be afraid, not while he's here.

"Just leave it to me. I got this."

Warrior

"Whatup, Captain?" Warrior feels a weight be thrown on his shoulder at the call of the voice.

He looks to the side where it is and throws an easy smile on his face.

It's you! And you're grinning fabulously in his direction.

"Nothing in particular. Just checking our supplies, we might need to make a supply run in the nearest town for potions if we're lucky enough to find one but..." He looks at the bag in front of him with slight distain.

Truthfully, the group is low on a lot of stuff. Food, medical and magic supplies, someone is going to have to buy the Veteran more sewing supplies as well with how much battery all your clothes have taken on.

It would have to be a big buy....

A small town probably won't have half the stuff they need. And he doesn't know what kind of budget he's working with either.

But he's dealt with worse with less.

The group will hold on for a little longer if nothing drastic happens.

But Warrior doesn't want you to know that. If he had things his way, he'd let you think that everything was ok. That everything was fine and under control.

He's used to having to keep dire news from the troops so that they can keep fighting the good fight.

Lying to you though feel wrong. Dirty.

He finds your complete trust in him endearing and your willingness to help him with any and all loads on his shoulders means more to him than he'd ever be willing to tell you to your face.

You brighten and throw a thumb in the direction behind you. "We're in luck then. There's a town, that-a way according to Wild's weird telescope from his slate. I was planning to go check it out regardless but was in need of a partner. Wild can't because Twilight benched him after last fights stunt. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone?"

That idea sounds fantastic.

"I'd love to." He says easily. "Got anything to do before we head out?"

"Nope. Ready to leave immediately." You get off of him and he follows after you without missing a beat, quickly falling into sync with your steps. It's a habit he has trouble breaking, but if he can focus on matching your stride instead, he can stay by your side for the walk.

"We're getting supplies from the town. Be back soon!" He calls out to Time and the group as you walk by.

Time raises his hand in acknowledgement and goes back to pinning Wild down with his stare alone. Warrior doesn't feel sorry for him.

With that taken care of, you both pick up your speed and quickly leave the range of your little camp. Jokes are traded easily between you two and Warrior finds himself relaxing.

It's a strange feeling but one he knows that he can share with you.

You put him at ease and there's something about you that calls for his attention.

Maybe it's your attitude. Maybe it's your determination. Maybe it's the way you fight and the grace you carry yourself with.

You're a good fighter, a good team mate, and a good person.

You take care of the others. You take care of him.

He doesn't know how to thank you.

Warrior notices that you both reach the town in record time, the conversation seeming making time a useless way measure distance.

You both walk in and begin with Warrior's shopping list since it has a higher priority than simply exploring.

Warrior makes a promise to himself to find something for you.

A small gift, if you will.

He's not entirely sure what you like just yet but he thinks you deserve something nice and if he's here to buy nice things, then why shouldn't you get something as well.

The trouble is getting it without you seeing him buy it, or figure out his plan.

You were always able to read him like a book.

"Lookin' good sweetheart!" A voice calls from the side. A loud and obnoxious voice followed quickly by multiple cheers and whistles.

Warrior instantly has a spike in irritation and he forces himself to not shout back. He's used to this. It happens sometimes back home. He's not surprised it can carry elsewhere. There's pigs everywhere.

He ignores them.

"Why don't you leave your boy toy and come find out how a real man can treat you darlin'?!" Another one comments. More cheers and howls.

Boy toy?

That's new.

Warrior looks in their direction and comes to a startling discovery.

They're not looking at him. THEY'RE LOOKING AT YOU.

Now... Warrior likes to think he's a rational man. He's good at keeping his head on straight in tough situations. He's good under peer pressure and under stress.

He takes one look at you and sees your smile gone, your head is down and your face is red in shame, anger and embarrassment.

But you don't say anything in reply and only shuffle closer to him, trying to get in front of him so he'll shield you from their gaze.

Warrior is a rational man.

Many would agree with that.

He wants to tear their heads off.

"Come on baby, don't be that way! As easy as your back is to watch, we want to get a good look at your pretty little face!"

Warrior turns suddenly and faces them all head on. "Thank you for the compliment doll face! I'm new in town and just passing through but maybe-"

He starts walking towards them as sultry as he can manage, pulling on every acting cell he has in his body.

Which is a lot if you ask him.

The tactic works as he wants it to. Warrior knows he wasn't their target and the idea of him responding instead throws them off their rhythm.

"No, no, wait-" One of them holds a hand up and takes a step back. "Not you."

"Who else darlin'?" He mimics their drawl and smirks at their instant discomfort. "You want a good time?"

"I'm leaving." One of them says after a second of horror shows on his face and not so subtlety turns on his heel and leaves. The third follows without saying anything and it just leaves Warrior and the first caller.

Warrior likes these odds.

He drops the act and lets his murderous intent shine on his face. "Got anything else to say?"

Warrior reaches for his sword and the idea finally gets through the guy's head. Leave us alone or else.

"...No." He says and finally leaves as well, not looking back at either of you.

Warrior nods at his retreating form and returns to you, a little ashamed by how long it took him to react. For your sake.

His head is low when he reaches you and he scratches the back of his neck instead of making eye contact.

"Um... What do you want to do now?" He asks lamely. By Hylia, he wants to kick himself into oblivion.

A small snort catches his attention and he snaps his head up.

You're looking at him, hand over your mouth and crinkled eyes giving away your not so hidden smile. Your shoulders are shaking and it only grows as he stares at you.

You're not mad? He has trouble believing it because he's still furious.

A small bark of laughter escapes without your consent and it's the last wall to break as the dam flows out. You're laughing hysterically and it's beginning to scare him a little.

"D-Did you see their faces?!" You nearly scream. "Oh my god, Warrior, I love you. That was amazing."

Warrior shakes off the shock and feels himself blush. "It wasn't that special..."

"Wasn't that-? Oh boy, I wish Wild was here. I would have loved to get a picture! Warrior that was awesome. I'm so glad that you agreed to come with me." You walk beside him and grab his hand, beginning to drag him through the town. "You know what? I owe you. I have some rupees and we're not expected to come back to camp yet. You want something? I'll get it for you. My treat. Anything you want."

Warrior begins to flounder, and he's uselessly dragged behind you while your grin grows with every second that you talk.

While this all happens and you talk about the ways you plan to treat him, Warrior starts to think that he might just do anything for you.

Hyrule

Hyrule was busy enjoying the scenery of their most recent trip. He had managed to sneak away from the group and walk around the area without having to worry about the others for a moment.

The quiet was nice and familiar. The place was new and begging for him to explore what it had to offer.

Hyrule... found himself wishing for companionship, weirdly.

Well, as long as his travel companion is you.

He supposed Wild would have been just the same....but he found himself wanting to be with you instead.

He just... he doesn't know why. It doesn't bother him.

There's just.... He has trouble finding the words.

You're warm and gentle and it reminds him of casting his Life spell on himself before he met the others. There's a sense of safety, of calm.

A cool breeze on a warm summer's day.

A smile creeps on his face at the thought of you. Hyrule knows that he does it often but he still can't bring himself to care about it.

"Oh my- NO! HEY!" He hears your voice. Panicked, frantic and shrill.

And it gets cut off.

It's a bucket of ice water dumped over him. His heart launches into his throat and his stomach drops to his feet. His feet are moving in the direction towards you before he even realizes it.

Hyrule has reached a full on sprint and has to continue to run when he fails to find you. He takes a moment to be grateful for his stamina and how he's used to running but you're not.

At least he doesn't think so.

But he hopes this isn't where he finds out.

He trips over something. A sharp pain cuts across his shin as he falls to the ground, palms barely sustaining damaged thanks to his armor.

Hyrule gets up and sees something even worse than what he thought.

It's your sword.

You don't have your sword.

You're unarmed and alone.

Hyrule picks himself up and your sword and continues running at an even quicker pace.

He reaches you eventually and feels unadulterated rage flood through his system.

There's a pig monster over you, cheering and dancing in victory. There's only one. He thinks it's one of Wild's bokoblins but he calls on his magic and sends his sword straight through the monsters beating heart.

There's no black blood as it falls.

He sprints even more in your direction and begins to cradle your head, gently checking for blood any injuries.

He lets the healing spell move through his fingers to catch whatever he might be missing, whatever he can't see or get to without hurting you further.

He can feel what areas need the attention the most and can almost reconstruct the attack.

There's a large bump on your head, most likely the hit that knocked you unconscious.

Your arm is scratched and multiple pieces of skin have been torn off but it's a graze more than anything, it's not bleeding and doesn't goa any deeper than that.

Probably the hit that knocked your sword out of your hand.

There's a bruise blossoming on your knee and on your stomach and he has trouble figuring out what came first. They could have come from your fall or the beast could have simply hit you again.

The magic works its way through your system and subsequently heals him as well from his own minor injuries.

There's no way you can wake up fast enough and it leaves his heart pounding in his chest.

Hyrule knows when there's nothing left to heal and has to force himself to stop before he overexerts himself. The uncertainty is killing him. Just when he was hoping to spend time with you alone, this happens.

You groan and begin to sit up, your hand going to your head before realizing that it doesn't hurt and that you're not alone.

"Hyrule...Hey." Your voice is soft and a smile overtakes your face. You looks around and sit up straighter when you catch the dead body of the monster not two feet from you. "Guess that's your doing?"

Hyrule nods and moves to give you space, reaching his hand out for you to take. "How are you?"

"Good, all things considered...." You shrug and pick up your sword. Hyrule didn't even notice that he dropped it. "I was looking for you."

A mix of emotions fills his heart. Guilt at being the cause of it. Relief that at least you're together again. Happiness, strangely, at the thought of you thinking about him.

"Well I'm not lost, just..." He nervously looks up to you, his hand coming to scratch the back of his neck. "Got left behind."

"We noticed." Your smile fills with mirth and it's borderline a smirk.

Hyrule is not prepared by the realization that he finds that incredibly attractive.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue." You say, wrapping your arm with his. "The rest of the group is over here by the way."

"Yeah... Yeah ok." He grins and tightens his grip around your arm. "Let's meet up with our friends."

Yeah....friends...That's just what friends do.

Why does he feel weird about it?

Twilight

"On a scale of one to ten, how hard is it to learn how to ride a horse?"

Twilight looked around Epona's form, pausing his motion in brushing her to see you leaning up against her, a hand on her neck and brushing ever so slightly.

"Some people are more natural than others I suppose..." Twilight responded, an idea forming in his mind. "But it's not difficult."

You nodded in response and continued to pet the best girl around.

"I can show you how... If you want that is." Twilight grins to himself, leaning closer to Epona so you don't notice. The thought makes him giddy in a childlike way and he doesn't want you to be put off by his overexcitement.

You snap your head in his direction, a bright and excited smile on your face. "Really? I've always wanted to learn but I didn't want to impose."

Oh.

Out of everyone who could easily show you how to ride a horse, you came to him.

Well... doesn't that do something to his heart.

I mean, he is the only one with the horse but -DETAILS!!

He doesn't care for them.

"Here. Get on." He walks around and holds the reins, gesturing for you to get on Epona's back.

"Right now?" You're surprised, but delighted.

Twilight thinks it a good look on you.

"Sure. We're not going anywhere just yet and Epona can use a walk to stretch her legs." He says and helps you get up. Twilight is quick to follow after you and sit behind you, your back pressed up upon his chest.

"Ok, here's what you're going to do." He gives you the reins and places his hands over yours, leading you and Epona to where he thinks is a good place to go for a small trot.

It's effortless for him to lead you both through the trail.

Your trio actually pass by the group who are resting for lunch and wave to them as you go. Twilight catches the smile Time has on his face and is quick to put together that he knows something he doesn't. He'll ask Time about it later.

Twilight talks to you about how to hold the reigns, how to kick the horse into gear, how to steer and anything that he can think of that means safety for both you and the animal.

"Hey Twilight-" You mention suddenly and point just beyond the distance. "-Should we be concerned about that?"

Monsters, also on horses.

An arrow wizzes by suddenly, imbedding itself in Epona's side.

Shocked by the pain and scared by the suddenness of it, Epona takes off in a sudden sprint. Encouraged by the reaction, the monsters give chase.

Twilight notices that they don't have as much control over their chosen transportation.

He has the advantage.

Epona's first instinct is to run back to the group, back to the numbers and safety. Twilight knows better though, he can't lead the monsters to the group, even if he has a sizeable lead on them. He quickly turns her away, a plan forming in his mind.

You don't have weapons or back up, so this is going to get interesting.

"TWILIGHT!" You scream and throw yourself against him, covering your eyes with one and and gripping him tightly with the other. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Trust me!" He yells over the rushing wind. "I think I have a plan!"

"YOU THINK? You're crazy!" You reply, directly into his ear. "But I trust you... so I guess I am too!"

"That's the spirit!" He grins. Twilight knows Epona won't be able to do much more without injuring herself further and he doesn't want to make any reckless decisions with you right next to him.

He'd hate for you to no longer want to ride a horse over this bad experience.

"Hang on tight!" He finds himself yelling, adrenaline in his veins and he pushes Epona to go a little bit faster.

There's a cliff nearby, a ledge that if he can Epona to go fast enough, she can jump it.

The monsters may try to follow but Twilight is riding heavily on their lack on control and the horses will to stay safe.

Epona reaches it and jumps.

There's a moment of weightlessness and Twilight's heart floats up to his throat. You gasp, and fling yourself around to press your face into the crook of his neck.

Twilight takes one arm off of the reigns and wraps it around you, pressing you tightly into his chest.

Epona makes the jump, landing on the other side with a little more turbulence than Twilight is used to, but he'll blame her shot.

He slows her down and looks to the other side of the ledge.

The monsters do in fact try to follow but Twilight's gamble and intuition pays off. The horses stop just by the edge and several monsters fly off of their backs and down below. The other monsters who can't get by, stop in anger and scream from the other side.

But it appears they lost their archer to the abyss.

So you're safe.

"Oh my goodness..." You gulp and remove yourself from him. "Holy cow... You did it. You mad lad, you did it."

Twilight chuckles nervously and begins to lead Epona back to the camp, gentler and a little more aware now of how she's moving, how much she's been hurt.

"Is Epona ok?" You try to look around him and spot the injury, but there's not a lot of space on the saddle to manage that. He does it for you and sees that it's mostly blocked by the saddle itself, the arrow imbedded deep into the side, just missing the both of you.

Epona most likely only has a scratch and was more startled if anything.

Twilight's not happy about his girl getting hurt but knows that she's taken worse hits. He'll tend to her later, he's worried about you too.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, but Epona?" You insist.

"She's fine. It mostly hit the equipment. They were terrible shots." Twilight grins easily, taking the lead in steering Epona and leans into your back.

You laugh breathlessly and turn your head directly into his. It gives him a great view of your eyes and how they seem to glow in the light. He finds himself entranced and almost misses what you say completely.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

He nearly preens and he pulls himself back. "You think so?"

"Incredibly reckless." You snort. "You've lost your privileges' for yelling at Wild. You're just as bad as him."

"I-..." Twilight starts but can't finish.

"But hey, at least we're ok." You lean back and make yourself comfortable against him. "That could have been worse."

Twilight doesn't move a muscle while you're there, if you're comfy against him, then he'll keep you comfy. "Yeah. Sorry about freaking you out back there."

You go quiet for a moment and he wonders if he's ruined something. Twilight doesn't know if there's something to ruin actually, and he doesn't understand the thought now that he's had it. He doubts you'll stop being friends because of this, so that's not at threat. Monster attacks are not something new. But...

He wants to do this with you, for you.

He doesn't like the idea of you turning him down.

"I don't know..." You say eventually. "Maybe you can make it up to me by continuing these horse riding lessons. Maybe I'll forgive you then."

Twilight doesn't look at your face, he doesn't turn to look at you. He's afraid he'll give too much away on his face if he does.

"If you're still up for it?" It's question. It wasn't supposed to be a question.

You nod and fully relax, your heartbeat gently beating against his own. "Maybe less monsters next time?"

"Agreed." Twilight grins. "Not until after you learn to go out on your own."

"How about... No."

Wild

"Wild. I. Have a question." Wild looks up to your approaching form, tensing up in anticipation.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tries to grin naturally. Wild feels his heart start to beat faster and his face heat up. He gets nervous around you even if he wants to be by your side, but he doesn't know why.

He knows you're friendly and sweet and nice and incredibly smart and there should be no reason that you do this to him and yet he wants to impress you so bad....

But he doesn't know how.

"Your slate has that crazy inventory right? So you carry a whole bunch of stuff on you at all times?" You try to stand tall but you dip your head and thread your fingers through your hair.

You're nervous.

Now you really have his attention.

"Yeah. I might have enough stuff to rival the Veteran and he's known as the Collector as well." Wild sits back and tilts his head at you. "What's up?"

"I..." You start and bite your lip. Wild's eyes land on it and he focuses there for longer than he thinks is appropriate. "I just wanted to ask if I could borrow a sword if you had extra... Mine's about to break and I don't want Smithy on my case about it, since I don't have what I need to fix it. But....um...You know what, nevermind. It's not a big deal, I'll manage, I'll-"

"No! It's fine!" He shoots up to his feet and grabs your hand to keep you from leaving. "Got anything in mind? I've got claymores and short swords, elemental weapons and sheikah blades. I've got some cool boomerangs or clubs from monsters if you want those."

While he's talking, he brings up his slate and begins sliding through the pages and icons, bringing it up to your faces so you can get a better look at what he had to offer. He's quick to point out what weapon can do what and how he has one story for each of them.

He takes a look over to your face and is overjoyed when he sees that you're looking through the screen with as much fervor and excitement as he did when he first came into contact with his world's weapons.

"..." He sees your eyes lock on one of them and voice comes out in a giddy giggle. "This one."

"Which one?" He leans over and places a hand on your shoulder. You let him, or you don't notice but the fact that you don't shove him away makes in happy in a way.

You point to it and he has a brief moment of panic when he sees the one you want. It's one of Robby's creations, a sheikah chainsaw so to speak. It's one of the biggest weapons he has.

"OK." He gulps and takes it out. He presses the activation button and watches your face when it lights up the blade.

A large grin over takes your face when you see it and stare at it for a moment. The light is bright in your eyes and you let out a giggle that's borderline hysterical.

"This is awesome!" You make grabby hands at it and he hesitates to give it to you.

He likes that you like it....but he's suddenly not all to convinced that he should. Wild knows that he's reckless and that he gets hurt a little more than anyone appreciates but... What if you get hurt? With his weapon, no less?

The thoughts scares him a little more than he'll admit.

Maybe you should have that one.... Maybe a more... normal weapon would have been better?

You step away and give it a few experimental swings and his heart launches into his throat.

"Ho-ok!" Wild frantically opens his slate again and takes out a another weapon, a normal iron sword. "Take this one as well actually."

"One is enough Wild. Thank you but-"

"We don't want the others to get jealous, now do we?" He lies. "This way it'll be easier to explain...so maybe save that one for emergencies?"

"Alright." You press the button and stash the weapon away, taking the other sword from his hand. Your fingers brush and he tries to not jerk his hand back and make it awkward.

"For the others sake." You grin, and there's a glint in your eyes that makes him think that you're on to him.

But you don't mention it.

He won't plan to mention it either.

He'll gladly share anything else with you though. You just have to ask.

Four

"RUN! WE HAVE TO RUN!"

Four's head snaps up and he doesn't have the time to register why before you run past him and grab his hand, dragging him behind you.

"WHAT?!" Four yells next to you and matches his stride to your easily. "WHY ARE WE RUNNING?!"

"THEY'RE AFTER ME!" You cry and continue running, taking a sharp turn. "NO TIME TO EXPLAIN!"

Four isn't prepared for the level of rage and concern for your behalf as he begin to reach for his sword and turns around to fight whatever has you in a panic.

"Don't!" You pull his hand harder and nearly throw him off of his feet. "It's not worth it. Just run, maybe we can find a place to hide."

"What's after you?" He asks instead. How bad did it have to be that you didn't even want to fight back? Was it monsters? Did they have numbers on their side? Was it the weapons they had? Were they infected?

He'd gladly fight them for you.

But if it's bad... it's bad and he knows that infected monsters take more effort then they should and they're not something he can do alone.

"Here!" A smile appears on your face and with another sharp turn to press him close to your body and squeeze into a small space. There's no space between you two, it's chest to chest, completely up against each other and Four suddenly has a hard time concentrating.

Four says your name in an attempt to distract himself from your body and eyes the hand you press against his mouth in response.

"Shh..." You look outside the hidey hole and snap back in.

Familiar voices ring with mirth and exhaustion but they are not dangerous. Four finds it in himself to be a little miffed at there not actually being any danger but he keeps quiet at your request.

"Where do you think they went?" Wind has a grin in his voice.

"I don't know. I think they actually lost us." Wild replies in kind. "But they can't be far. It's not like they can out run us."

"You take the right and I'll take the left?" Wind offers and Four has to wonder what they want with you.

You keep your hand over his mouth for a moment longer before slowly retreating.

Four gulps and takes a breath. He's immediately assaulted by how you smell. It's weirdly not just sweat, but apple blossoms and some kind of herb that he's having trouble pin pointing.

It's intoxicating and despite the lack of personal space, Four thinks that this is the most comfortable place he's been in a while.

"Ok. I think they're gone." You turn and begin to shimmy out of the hole. "Sorry about that. They want me to do something dumb with... an item of mine and I don't have the heart to tell them no. So I ran... Which didn't really work because they followed."

Four follows out of the hole and brushes the front of him off. He places his hands on his hips and fixes you with a stare.

"And then I ran into you and I didn't want to explain everything but you're a good guy and you'd just tell them where I went because you wouldn't know and I didn't want to risk leaving you behind-"

A good guy?

"So you kidnapped me?" Four raises an eyebrow. "That was your solution?"

"Well... How else do I get your attention?" You mimic his position and look him in the eye.

Four's about to retort with something that you could do before he stops himself. It's... not something one would just say to a friend. But he finds the idea very appealing for a moment before being disgusted with himself for thinking that about you.

He rolls his eyes to change the conversation outwardly but he continues thinking about it. "There are easier ways to get my attention. One of them, for example, say my name."

"Hard to do, if all of you have the same name." You grin.

He smiles back.

Truthfully, now that he's thinking about it, a lot things that you do catch his attention.

The way you move your hands when you talk. The way you move when you fight. The sound of your laugh. The color of your hair and your eyes.

"Um..." You laugh nervously and scratch the back of your neck. "Would you mind staying with me for a moment longer? I uh- Don't know the way back and I don't want to risk running into either of them just yet But.. I did kidnap you, so if you have something better to do-."

Oh yeah, he'll stay with for for longer. He doesn't mind one bit.

Sky

Sky yawns and rubs at his eyes for a moment before turning his gaze back into the fire.

It's early.... like, stupid early. He hates getting up before the sun and would have gladly stayed in his bedroll... but it's his shift.

Admittedly, he doesn't mind being on watch.

But it's the whole concept of being up before the very time keeper in the sky that miffs him. His body wants to fight it and he typically has to put his whole bed roll away when it's his turn or else he'll be tempted to go back to it and sleep the rest of the night time away.

The only bonus, he supposes, is the chance to watch the sunrise.

It's so different on the surface than on Skyloft, there's more colors and it's not as blinding. He can't to experience more when he reaches his own time again.

The other bonus, he supposes, now that he's thinking about it, if the chance to watch over his new friends and that includes you.

You... Are just as mesmerizing as the sunrise, he thinks.

There's something about you that he finds completely captivating. Your endless colors and arrays of simplistic beauty keep his attention in ways he wouldn't have thought possible. Bringing peace and tranquility to the group when they need and being a signal to start the next leg of the adventure.

And yet, he can admit that it's nothing extraordinary.

You're not trying to impress anyone. It comes naturally to you.

Like the sunrise.

Sky smiles to himself and....he's mature to admit that he's glad he met you, and he think he'll miss you the most when this is all over.

When Sky comes back to the present instead of being trapped in his own head, he realizes that he's been staring at you for a while.

You're still sleeping.

He takes a breath. That wouldn't have been awkward. He prides himself on not being a creep, thank you very much.

You turn in your sleep and a sound escapes you.

Sky sits up a little straighter and watches you again. He knows that everyone has their fair share of demon to fight even when they're asleep. It wouldn't be all that surprising to learn that you had your own battles beyond daytime.

You move again, lifting your arm to fight whatever your brain says is in front of you and a gasp comes through.

Sky shoots up again begins to make his way over to you. He's careful not to wake the others but if he kicks Wind's on the way over, he won't mention it... It's not like that woke him up anyway.

When he finally reaches your side, you're shaking and moving side to side without knowledge of what is happening outside your own mind.

Sky nearly growls and kneels next to you.

"I wish I can fight those things for you..." He says out loud as he begins to gently shake your shoulder. "How dare they still plague you. They're not even here. Who gave them the right?"

You give out a small scream, something in your mind terrorizing you and it prompts Sky to shake you by both your shoulders until you wake up.

Your eyes shoot open with a gasp. You're covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. It takes you a while to realize where you are and who's in front of you but in the meantime you try fighting Sky off, still not fully aware that you're awake.

"Hey, hey, it's me." Sky takes a step back in hopes of calming you, even if it's the last thing he wants to actually do. "You're safe now. It's ok."

You finally stop and look at him, staring for a moment until he can see the moment when you see him. "...Oh..."

"You ok?" Sky takes the step forward. "That seemed rough."

"I... Um..."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He takes another step forward and places his hands on your shoulders. You're still shacking but instead of answering him you launch yourself into his arms.

Sky doesn't hesitate to hold you and lets you cry into his shoulder for as long as you need. He makes a vow to himself right then and there.

He's going to do his best to protect you... and the others. So that even if things get hard, maybe you'll have less nightmares to deal with.

If you'll let him, that is.

For now, he's going to hold you and be there for you when you need him.

It's... really all he can do.

[perperam]

Do you have any Harlivy fic recommendations? Preferably something that is already completed?

OH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

okay okay so quick little tangent fact !! I actually just finished my undergrad degree in "english literature analysis & writing" and reading fics is so fun bc I get to analyze them and break them down and if it's particularly well written the stars align and it's just UGH so good. 

ratings are: E (explicit) M (mature) T (teens and up) and G (everyone) anyways here is a HUGE list of my favorite fics to date, their stats/details/plots, reasonings as to why they're on the list to begin with, and a short analysis:

SHORT STORIES (less than 30k words)

for your convenience they’re in order of length bc I’m focusing on this super hard rn

KISS YOUR BEST FRIEND CHALLENGE (T)  STATS — 340 words, shenanigans, fluff PLOT — Harley, TikTok and general Social Media queen, decides to do the trending challenge to kiss your best friend. The best friend? Her roommate and the woman she’s been crushing on for fucking ever: Poison Ivy.

AM I TOO CLOSE? (CAUSE YOU FOLD INTO ME LIKE A HEART WITH A BEAT) (G) STATS — 839 words, fluff, shenanigans PLOT — Harley genuinely wasn’t looking for trouble, but it’s hard to just have a day out when you’re one of Gotham’s most wanted. Running into Ivy, she takes drastic measures (and her hoodie into the mix) to distract the police from looking in their direction.

I’M HOME (G) STATS — 892 words, domestic fluff PLOT — After a long and rough day at work, Ivy comes home to Harley. Relaying the details of her day, she basks in the comfort of her girlfriend, who provides gentle questions and is a phenomenal listener. General cuteness.

CONFLICT DIAMONDS (G) STATS — 990 words, wedding shenanigans, banter, humor PLOT — Batman and Renee Montoya respond to a break-in at a jewelry store, except even though the owner is duct-taped to the wall, it isn’t really a break-in; Harley’s just trying to shop for a ring for Ivy, and that’s difficult to do when the owner is screaming in the corner. Batman and Renee both pitch in to help pick something nice for Harley’s girl, resulting in hilarious banter.

OF COURSE (T) STATS — 1.1k words, hurt/comfort (kinda), harley quinn animated tv show centric PLOT — In the aftermath of Ivy’s death, rebirth, and the fall of Joker Tower, Harley collapses onto the ground. Since she never mentioned that her parents are the reason for most of her injuries, Ivy isn’t sure why she’s so out of it.

PERFECT MORNINGS (T) STATS — 1.1k words, domestic fluff/bliss PLOT — Ivy, who usually wakes up early and before Harley, takes a moment to look at the countless muscles, ridges, scars, and tattoos on Harley’s body as she sleeps. General cuteness.

I’D LOVE TO CHECK YOU OUT (T) STATS — 1.7k words, university au, fluff PLOT — Harley visits the library virtually every day, and it’s definitely not because she needs to work on her university courses and homework. She finally works up the courage to speak to the alluring redhead she sees there every day while absentmindedly looking at a book on sharks. 

I’LL LOVE YOU IN THE MORNING (NOON, NIGHT) (T) STATS — 2.1k words, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — A snapshot look into Ivy and how she comes to know, care, and love all the sides of Harley—from psychiatrist to criminal to girlfriend. She loves her throughout it all. 

DAY-DREAMING (T) STATS — 2.2k words, shenanigans, psychiatrist Harleen PLOT — Ivy’s falling for her psychiatrist—her humorous, intelligent, caring, and downright gorgeous psychiatrist. It’s difficult, to say the least.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THEMYSCIRA (DOESN’T) STAY IN THEMYSCIRA (T) STATS — 2.3k words, humor, wedding shenanigans, angst with a happy ending PLOT — In a surprise twist of events, Harley and Ivy were drunkenly married at Themyscira. When asked at the wedding if anybody had objections to the union of Ivy and Chuck, Wonder Woman and the Queen of Themyscira herself come to object. Ivy, for lack of a better word, wants to die a little.

NOT A ROCKER CHICK (T) STATS — 3.1k words, rock band au, fluff PLOT — The last thing Ivy wants to do is go to a rock band concert with her best friend, Selina. Despite her best efforts, she can’t help but completely fall into the rhythm of the band and their music, so different than her own norm. And okay, maybe the singer (who Selina was friends with and called “Harley”) was also kinda hot...

A TENDER HEART AMONG THE GREEN (T) STATS — 3.2k words, gotham city sirens raise Lucy au, domestic bliss PLOT — Harley and Selina come back home to the apartment to find Ivy passed out asleep with Lucy cuddling into the crook of her neck and Selina’s cats cuddling her legs. Knowing that Ivy would rather be caught dead than in such a compromising situation (after all, she is the Poison Ivy, who “hates humans”) the two take a photo, since it lasts longer. Shenanigans and cuteness ensue.

BUILDING YOUR GIRL’S SECOND STORY (M) STATS — 3.3k words, university/grad school au, angst with a happy ending PLOT — Snapshots of Harley’s battle with her violent and abusive boyfriend, Jack, and the way in which Bruce, his boyfriend Clark, and her best friend (and potentially lover) Pamela all love Harley and will do anything, anything, to make sure she gets the help, care, and love she needs.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF NORMAL (T) STATS — 3.6k words, coronavirus pandemic/quarantine au, family au PLOT — Ivy is requested by the Justice League to help create and manufacture a vaccine for the COVID-19 virus. As she works on the vaccine, she video calls Harley and their daughter Lucy, both of whom miss her very much. 

RABBIT IN THE GARDEN (T) STATS — 4.4k words, implied suicide attempt, hard angst PLOT — Winters are difficult to Ivy. When Harley comes home one day to see her submerged fully in water in the bathtub, the only thing Harley can do is cry and take her out. Ultimately Ivy is alright—but it doesn’t make it any easier.

WE WILL BE (EVERYTHING THAT WE’D EVER NEED) (T) STATS — 5.8k words, high school au, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — Harley and Ivy are best friends from high school, living in the middle of Arizona. Ivy is absolutely head over heels for Harley, but the latter is in a growing and increasingly abusive relationship with the older “bad-boy” (literally) Jack. Eventually, the two grow together in more ways than one.  

WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS (EXCEPT NO DOGS DIE) (M) STATS — 9.7k words, domestic bliss, no powers just botanist & psychiatrist au PLOT — After her abusive ex-boyfriend tries to maniacally tear down the front door of her apartment with an ax as her best friend, Selina, pushes the table against the splintering wood, Bruce recommends that Harley gets a dog. She gets two German Shepard brothers—Bud and Lou—who lead her one day on their walk to the most beautiful flower shop owner Harley’s ever seen. The story of Harley and Ivy, told with Bud and Lou present to witness every moment.

THE MOMENT I AWAKEN GHOSTS (T) STATS — 11.7k words, falling in love, feelings & realizations PLOT — A deep look into Ivy’s feelings and how they evolve from general hatred against Harleen the psychiatrist at Arkham to a blooming, kind and gentle love towards Harley Quinn, the crown jester of crime. 

HARLEQUIN’S ISLE (T) STATS — 17.5k words, hurt/comfort, happy ending, shenanigans, humor PLOT — Harley and Ivy decide to go on a vacation on Bruce Wayne’s new eco-friendly plane, but in a surprise twist of events, things go terribly wrong, Ivy falls out of the plane, and the two (as well as all the other rich and wealthy big-name CEOS on the plane) get stranded on an island with someone actively trying to rob the investors. Harley and Ivy will fight them, god damn it, because they deserve this vacation and they will have it.

LONGER STORIES (30k words to 100k words)

YOUR LOVE (DÉJÀ VU) (G) STATS — 33k words, slow burn, mild angst, canon divergence PLOT — A what-if-Harley-found-Ivy-first fic, YOUR LOVE wonderfully illustrates Dr. Harleen Quinzel treating Ivy in a wonderfully humane and kind way, including learning floriography, the language of flowers, in order to better relate to her. Ivy is taken aback by her doctor's genuine care and begins to develop feelings, all the while Harleen falls hard and fast which wholly confuses and frightens her. The one caveat is that while this is happening, Harleen is also treating the Joker as well, who tries (keyword: tries) to manipulate her. Ivy and Harley dance a timid tango around one another as they try to navigate this new playing field of romantic feelings for one another, and things come to a breaking point when Harleen realizes that, perhaps, all of her patients have a point and that the real villains are not the ones inside the asylum, but rather the ones running it. FAVORITE DETAILS — I just love the way this is written. It provides a wonderful and almost skinny-love like romance (except this takes place in an insane asylum) as Harleen and Ivy both try to understand their strong feelings for one another. The way in which the rogues and other inmates/patients all look out for one another was very heartwarming, and Waylon and Eddie's thinly veiled camaraderie with Ivy—and her thinly veiled appreciation for it—were both lovely and created a really warm environment. It really underlined why Harley loved them because you love them too in the process, and see how she reaches her breaking point.  CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harley, as she is in all of my favorite fics, is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and talented psychiatrist. Her caring nature is wonderfully outlined in this fic as she helps Waylon, Eddie, Ivy, and everybody else in the asylum be treated with genuine respect and care, going as far as to get them personalized gifts. Her psyche fracturing slowly never once makes her seem unintelligent to the reader, even as she actively places a ditz persona in order to fool the rest of the asylum staff (and the Joker). Ivy, on the other hand, is illustrated in a way that perfectly shows how all she genuinely needed was someone to listen. She's sometimes harsh and crass but you can see how she begins to soften as Harley helps her and treats her with: you guessed it, genuine respect. FINAL VERDICT — I would get this tattooed on my ass if I could

NOVEL LENGTH WORKS (100k+ words)

ACROSS THE WAY (M) STATS — 128.7k words, slow-burn, tattoo artist & flower shop owner au  PLOT — Botanist and flower shop owner Pamela Isley moves to Gotham from Seattle in search of a new life. Her shop is located directly next to a tattoo shop—one that is incredibly loud and bothersome. Upon walking in to give the shop a piece of her mind, she meets one of the resident artsits, Harley Quinzel, and cannot get her out of her mind. The two become best friends, and feelings slowly start to develop. On a night when Harley is most vulnerable and in need of a place to escape, Pam offers her apartment as a refuge, and from that point on things are never the same again (in the best way possible).  FAVORITE DETAILS — The SIT sessions were a wonderful touch and I loved seeing the recovery of both Ivy and Harley, because it was so real. I also loved how once Harley got out, she did everything in her power to protect both herself and Ivy from Jack, and we got to see her and Ivy grow into their wonderful, healthy romance. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — I love how all of the characters are illustrated; Selina, who is the caring best friend and genuinely does her best to help others around her all the while being her cocky, usual self. Pam, who escaped Seattle and started anew in Gotham and is the crass botanist and also the insanely kind and caring lover. Barbara is the adorable coffee shop owner, Floyd is the caring figure for Harley that she never had, and everyone is just wonderful.  FINAL VERDICT — literally go read this rn, what are you even doing

MAD LOVE: THE BEGINNING & MAD LOVE: THE FINAL CHAPTER (M) STATS — nearly 400k words total, angst, canon divergence, domestic fluff, slice of life PLOT — imagine YOUR LOVE except this is much longer, much more heart-wrenching, a whole lot more angsty, and Harleen's break with Harley is a lot more prevalent. Another what-if scenario of Dr. Harleen Quinzel meeting and treating the illusive Poison Ivy instead of the Joker, MAD LOVE shows an interesting depiction of the way they manipulate, hurt, care, and love one another. The entire story is riddled with well placed metaphors, recurring themes, and both Ivy and Harley's characters are illustrated in the most complex and interesting way. All throughout both the initial and the sequel, Ivy and Harleen play a metaphorical chess game in manipulation as a means to gain the upper-hand on the other, which creates a dangerous foundation for their following love story. In the sequel, "The Final Chapter," the story starts with Harley and Ivy—already married near the end of "A New Beginning"—having two kids and the entire piece spans over Harley's lifetime until she's on her deathbed, with Ivy still stuck at 33 years old beside her. I personally stopped reading the story after Harley died (I was too emotionally vulnerable to continue on) but if you continue reading on, you get to see Ivy move on and appreciate Harley's impact on her life as she finds love and happiness again after the loss of her wife. FAVORITE DETAILS — We get insight into both Ivy and Harleen's trauma, and how not everything can be fixed with love. Neither Harleen nor Ivy (or their actions for that matter) are characterized as perfect in any way, and the story never excuses any of their more-than-questionable actions; in fact they make MANY mistakes and manipulate one another throughout the story, and both have power over the other (Harleen is her psychiatrist, but Ivy could easily kill her, so emotional power over someone with immense physical power). CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harleen is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and capable psychiatrist, and the story somehow wonderfully mixes Harley's desire for violent chaos with Harleen's desire to help others. v Ivy is illustrated as the epitome of "I hate you and will not be nice unless you're literally either my wife or kids." She is seldom kind to others, is often crass, but an entire softy when it comes to Harleen and their children. She's a hard worker and is heavily involved in her research. Harleen, on the other hand, is equally cunning but more lighthearted, extremely athletic and active, the "fun" mom, and less into power trips (unless it's about Ivy). FINAL VERDICT — definitely the most interesting fics I've ever read in my entire fucking life, it's so complex and wonderful and a literal minefield of analysis worthy literature, I'd also get this tattooed on my ass if I could

[quibblesandscribbles]

Centaurworld Rewrite: A Serious Adventure AU - S1E1 Outline

I’m doing rewrite outlines, prepare for some AU. That being said, I still like several parts of Centaurworld a lot, namely Rider, Horse, Wammawink, and whatever the hell is going on with the Nowhere King, and hope there’s a second season to watch (which I will if Netflix doesn’t ruin our hopes and dreams).

Anyways, here’s like, a rewrite or whatever. I will probably post the outlines as I go, episode by episode. Will I get to them all? ADHD-willing, we’ll see. Also feel free to use these ideas/outlines? I don’t mind. 

Also assume there are songs in this even if I don’t specifically mention all of them. Also I guess this rewrite kinda chains the 1st and 2nd episodes together as a two parter? Maybe, idk.

Also I’ll preface this with this too: I ship Wammahorse, yes I SHIPSHIP it. Moving on.

Some headcanons before we start:

Warworld (*the world Rider and Horse are from) is a Low Fantasy Setting, there IS magic, but it comes in two variations, either very subtle low-powered but relatively uncommon, or Terrifyingly Powerful and so extremely rare to the point that it’s not very well known and “just myths” (usually for Big Baddies)

Ideas for Horse’s Degree of Sapience Prior to Worldhopping:

A: Horse was just a regular, non-magical horse, and their exposure to the Artifact and Centaurworld has essentially made them a Fully Uplifted Animal. - This is interesting, but ultimately a difficult idea to convey because it would require a lot more setup and wouldn’t exactly fit Horse’s characterization without some rework. This is an amazing idea, but I won’t be using it because it would slow things down too much.

B: Horse is a low-fantasy magic steed raised as warhorse/war asset, who is much smarter than your average animal steed/companion similar to a DND Ranger’s pets, or Mabari from Dragon Age, or a Ranger Horse from John Flanagan’s ‘Ranger’s Apprentice.’ The combined exposure to the Artifact and Centaurworld could account for her gaining speech and her body expressing limited physical adaptation to Centaurworld’s different physics (her body’s new extended range of motion for example) but of course I’ll be limiting this because having stakes make it more fun imho. This is my favorite, I’m using this.

Horse would’ve been considered a very valuable war asset (trained warhorses are like, historical ferraris, expensive as hell, i can only imagine what low-magical smart warhorses would be valued at), though still ultimately expendable for the war effort like anything else

Let Horse have horse behaviors (*can you tell I haven’t really left my horse phase behind lol)! Nipping and grooming behaviors as affection or warnings, ear positions to indicate mood, grazing to eat, laying down only when truly relaxed, sleeping standing up. COME ON.

Centaurworld is a High Fantasy world with an Absurdist bent but with darker undertones, similar to how Adventure Time is, with an extremely high saturation of magic, maybe you could even theorize that due to the Splitting of the Two Worlds that all the magic is being Dammed up in Centaurworld like a river or reservoir, this could be a future plot thread that could be picked up in a later season.

Basic Changes: 

Durpleton, Glendale, Ched and Zulius are supporting cast, not main

Durpleton is less stupid and more of a Kronk-expy: a little dim but ultimately kind/means well, has at least 1 life skill he’s good at buried in there though for the life of me I can’t think of one right now.

Glendale’s Narrative Framing: Glendale is amazing, but the kleptomania will be allotted ONE (or two) joke mentions but narratively isn’t treated like one after, somehow establish that her kleptomania is directly intertwined with her anxiety levels. Are there other denizens of the Valley that know the Herd? Are they mad at Glendale for stealing things? Does Wammawink have to constantly run interference to cover for Glendale? Probably.

Make Ched look like less of a pointless asshole: Have him show concern for his friends’ safety and his suspicion of outsiders, AKA Horse. If he’s going to be a jerk, at least let it serve a purpose.

Zulius can stay roughly the same - Zulius is great okay, just don’t tell me there’s backstory and then NOT TELL OR SHOW US ANY CLUES about what said backstory/history IS! (other than forcing us infer/project the headcanon[?] that him and Splendib might’ve been exes, from how they act around each other without any other context/visual/or confirming exposition we literally know nothing other than Splendib and him split/had a nasty falling out and Splendib took the glittercats and the career in the divorce.)

S1E1: Hello Rainbow Road

Opening scene in Warworld

If these episodes were allowed to be longer (shuddup it’s my AU), have the scene open with Horse sees Rider comes running out of some underground castle ruin catacombs and ominous roaring and clanging behind her as she deliberately sets off a dungeon booby trap (arrows or fire) she must’ve avoided while dungeon crawling earlier, and Horse runs towards her and circles at a canter and then Rider does a Running Mount (mounting a horse while the horse is in motion) and shoots an arrow at that flies offscreen

Smash cut to the DRAWBRIDGE door falling and Rider and Horse come galloping out while dodging some javelins and arrows and 1.5 seconds later 1-4 armored minotaurs (the lizardmen?) riding some coursers (swift horses or horselike creatures idk have fun) gallop behind in hot pursuit.

WARWORLD CHASE/FIGHT SCENE

Rider and Horse take out 2 of the pursuers on the run have Rider stay on horseback, dodge and make 1 pursuer shoot/javelin another 1 into a nasty-looking fall, and then Rider nails another 1 right through the helmet visor with an arrow. Have Rider throw a smoke bomb or something at the 2 remaining ones trying to catch up.

2 Enemies left but Horse is forced to skid to a stop as the suspension bridge approaches, then a tense moment forced to walk in order to escape safely across the suspension bridge which Rider cuts once they’re across. Maybe have 1 of the minotaur pursuers having been on the bridge somewhat behind them before Rider had to cut the line, sending the enemy hurtling down below. The remaining minotaur scout stares at them ominously from the other side before leaving.

Have Rider breath a sigh of relief

Smash cut to Horse and Rider traveling across a wartorn landscape, start Horse’s internal monologue narrative until they finally get to the hill and see the ruins of their village

Everything from this point to Horse getting transported to Centaurworld is the same as canon

Not Actually a DREAMVISION SEQUENCE: 

Shot/Animated from Horse’s 1st Person POV: Darkness, the sound of whooshing Horse falls, shimmering flash colors [if this were an actual show pls put a Epilepsy warning at the beginning of the ep], then a loud Splash as Horse falls into Dark Water. POV looks down and we see Horse’s front legs and a bottomless abyss below and a then flash of green and off-white from deep below, then look up to see blue light, see the swimming motions of Horse’s front legs and getting closer to the Blue Light

Horse wakes up, blinking, alone (no Durpleton)

Horse gets up looks around, doesn’t see Rider anywhere and starts makes Whinnying sounds (specifically, Whinnying is a social horse call, like specifically going, “Rider where are you!?” in IRL horse)

“And what are you supposed to be?” the “camera” wheels around to see Ched who has landed on Horse just within reach of her tail so Horse lets out a startled squeal (the Horse noise, not the human one) and does that thing where horses use their tails to swat away insects which sends Ched FLYING as Horse’s squealing morphs into her Talking/Yelling “what the heck is going on?!”

Horse does what panicked horses do, she runs

Horse stumbles into meeting Durpleton, who freaks her out more

Meeting kinda the same as canon but with less constant emphasis on reminding the audience that the writer’s can’t write comedy

Wammawink and Horse meet, Ched flies in and goes “hey that asshole kicked my a-I mean attacked me, but I totally beat ‘em.”

Horse tries to leave, discovers the Barrier, tries to get through, fails multiple times, but only 3-4 attempts shown with time passage show by the time of day changing, have Horse’ talking to herself a bit about how utterly weird the talking words thing is, that this is a “human” thing why is this HAPPENING she needs to get back

Waste less time on the visual gags of the Barrier repelling Horse, also get rid of the Tree Catapult scene because it doesn’t jive with Horse being a horse, why do they know how to make a catapult? Also because I hate how it basically shows us that Horse has no physical danger or chance of injury from being FLUNG around like Pokemon’s Team Rocket.

Have the rest of the centaur Herd come up to and talk to Horse while Horse is trying to get through the Barrier, and Horse talks about the outside and her world and doing things, squeeze in some convo about how there’s no (current) war in Centaurworld and how Horse thinks that that “freedom must be nice.” Anyways these conversations are what has Glendale, Zulius and Durpleton at least considering the ups of leaving.

Durpleton: Durpleton approaches Horse alone and asks about where she’s from, what’s home like, expositiony bits for Warworld and how much Horse needs to get herself and the Artifact back to Rider; Horse should say something offhand, like how she dreamed about exploring the world with Rider after the War seeing new things together, to which we’d cut to a shot of Durpleton looking thoughtful, before asking a completely unrelated question before Horse asks to be left alone. He doesn’t go originally, but gets distracted by something (butterfly?) and trots off.

Wammawink, Ched & Glendale: Atop a hill, Wammawink looks up to see stormclouds gathering off in the distance and comments that they’re going to be in for some rough weather, then goes over to offer Horse food, but gets distracted by some other Valley Denizens who are mad suspicious that Glendale is responsible for something of theirs that’s missing. Leaving Wammawink to go off and have to run interference leaving Glendale to approach Horse alone. Horse will learn that there’s no (current) war in Centaurworld but there was one historically, and Glendale will offhandedly mention that they’ve stolen everything from everyone in the Valley at least 4 times and with the unspoken implication of boredom. Ched will butt in and heckle Horse like, “could you leave any quieter?” and Horse sniping back, ears pinned back and animated horse stress behaviors. And Horse’s last failed attempt at passing the Barrier has them drop the Artifact, and we get a shot of Glendale spotting and eyes widening at seeing the Artifact unattended on the ground, then we get a smash cut of Glendale getting herded away by Ched.

Zulius: Goes over to ask about Horse’s avante garde accessories (her bridle, saddle & armor[barding]), makes comments on her style/aesthetic and asks where he could find some. Horse loses her patience, and says that she Needs to concentrate on getting back to someone they care a lot about and could you please just go away? 

Horse: (voiced as a rhetorical question) “Haven’t you ever wanted to go back to someone you loved before?”

Zulius gets a Look on his face, then he’d puff up, cover up the Armor Piercing Question’s effect on him with more bluster and then turn away as it gets later

Around sunset, Horse finally gives in to go ask Wammawink what’s up, and how can they leave.

Wammawink tries to feed them and convince them to stay, but Horse waves her off and moves away while muttering something about coming up with a plan

Speaking of plans, the Herd excluding Wammawink (& Ched) start talking about being bored, and mention Horse saying stuff about exploring the world (taken out of context, deliberately)

Wammawink, smelling the ugly head of discontent, sighs in defeat at not being able to recruit this new outcast in the Herd and approaches a grazing Horse and says she’ll help her through it with her magic(not admitting that the Barrier is her magic working in the first place because it’s not relevant right now okay) but then we get the “What’s magic?” bit from Horse and the rest of the Herd butts in with the Song. They wander off to go to bed afterwards, and Horse wants to go Now but Wammawink says that she’ll help Horse leave the Barrier but only in the morning because “you look tired”

Horse: “That doesn’t matter.” *awkward silence*

Wammawink, sadly: “Of course it does.” *Horse has already walked away*

The sun finishes setting as the wind blows the plants and through Wammawink’s fur (ominously) and she shivers, going back to the campfire

DREAM SEQUENCE: It’s dark, then we get a flashback dream of a younger Rider and Horse, idk a memory of something to showcase them either while in training or really show their Bond okay? End with them sitting around a campfire with other young soldiers and horses, someone is humming something (the first few bars of the Nowhere King’s Lullaby, no actual words yet). Then Dream!Rider turns to face Horse and asks, “how could you?”

Horse: “How could I what?”

Dream!Rider: “How could you leave me behind?” (The humming grows louder, there’s a lute being played, growing discordant)

Then Horse starts calling into the darkness/void, “I’m coming back for you, Rider! Just hang on, alright?!”

Rider: “Oh Horse, it’s already too late for me.”

“Rider!” Horse yells as they jolt awake, standing, because horses typically sleep standing up.

It’s dawn but the wind and stormy weather signs are picking up but not here yet, Wammawink walks Horse to the edge of the Valley barrier and tries to convince Horse to stay here where it’s safe, but Horse refuses to be deterred

Brief shot of Glendale hiding a bunch of things from her Tummy Hammerspace in order to simulate the feeling of stealing things again later, including the Artifact which falls on the ground

A shot of Durpleton seeing and picking up the Artifact and spotting Wammawink and Horse some distance away going toward the barrier’s edge

Wammawink hangs back on a hill, glowy hands and the magic wall flickers and disappears, and Horse immediately breaks into a gallop and disappears into the forest, Wammawink sighs and turns away

Indeterminate amount of time later, Wammawink recasts the Barrier, and Durpleton misses breakfast so Wammawink enlists Ched to help her look for him because Ched can fly

Cut to a shot of Horse dropping from a canter to a trot on the Rainbow Road, it’s grown darker and the stormclouds are in the sky. Distant thunder booms overhead, and a few scattered raindrops start to fall

“Heyyyy! You forgot your necklaceeee!” a shout from behind

Horse looks back and sees a running Durpleton holding the Artifact, and stops, he catches up to Horse and is gasping, “Wow, you run fast, hoooo, *deep breaths* you’re really *another gasp* athletic! Anyways you forgot your Necklace.”

Durpleton ties the broken string into a necklace around Horse’s neck and Horse thanks them and wishes them a safe journey back to the Valley, but as this happens the rain gradually falls harder. Then the sounds of the Rest of the Herd finally catching up happen, and Wammawink mother hens Durpleton and wants take everyone back home but then a loud BOOM of thunder and lightning overhead, and then it starts to Pour down rain, forcing Horse and co to find shelter until it lets up. Maybe have someone mention something about landslides being a possibility? Durpleton asks how they found them so fast, dim remember, then brief flashback.

FLASHBACK: Wammawink and co searching and calling out for Durpleton everywhere in the Valley, and realize that he must’ve followed Horse for some reason when Zulius FINALLY shows up and mentions that he remembers Durpleton saying he was gonna give Horse back her necklace. The recast Barrier is brought down and they leave the Valley to bring back their friend.

Back to the present where the group has taken shelter as the storm picks up more, and thunder booms overhead, Horse has some nervous horse body language going on, then we get to hear her mutter-singing or humming the “I never fear the drums of war” to calm herself down, but with more stanzas please, when asked she says it’s a battle hymn that Rider sang.

If Horse was humming, Wammawink could ask why she doesn’t sing, she’s sure that Horse has a lovely voice

Horse goes “I’m a horse, I don’t sing.”

Wammawink tries to be encouraging, Horse is resistant

Wammawink invites her to eat (AGAIN) but Horse still turns her (love and affection) down (AGAIN!) and says she’s fine with grazing and Glendale pipes in excitedly that they have decided that they want to travel with Horse (Ched pipes up that he didn’t agree to this) but pls help us convince Wammawink and Horse protests but someone points out to ask “do you even know where you’re going” and they have a point

Horse acknowledges this and relents, states some stuff about how she’s not going to slow down much however. Then Glendale, Zulius and Durpleton rejoice, Ched acts tsundere, but Wammawink looks nervous and wrings her hands together and relents that “they’ll go with Horse as far as the nearest Shaman” and Ched will go, “hey don’t you know he-” and Wammawink shushes him quickly with a gigglecake

Wammawink doubles down on the mother henning behavior

Horse doesn’t eat Wammawink’s gigglecakes but grazes by herself nearby, occasionally answering a question or two when engaged by the others (not Wammawink) and Wammawink mentions how the weather probably won’t let up for very long and they should take it slow and that Horse should bundle up

Horse disagrees but its bedtime and a bedtime song occurs in the backdrop as a restless Horse struggles to stay alert and awake but eventually falls asleep

VISION SEQUENCE: A shimmer of soft blue light, then shots of Rider ducking and weaving, her sword flashing as she tries to weave her way through a horde of enemy soldiers, blood spatters, then an enemy archer takes aim at a fleeing Rider, and Horse calls out a warning. 

Rider turns her head with a surprised look on her face suddenly just enough that the arrow buries itself into her shoulder instead the middle of her back and then she stumbles, one of her arms going limp, but everything goes dark before we can see if she fell

Everything goes dark and the din of war fades away, we get a shot of Horse’s hooves splashing and making ripples into dark water but the camera doesn’t follow her, we hear Horse’s cries for Rider fade, growing further and further away

Still dark, but in the silence we hear distant sound, drip, drip, drip, drip.

Then the episode ends and the credits roll.

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

[britishboystm]

The Goodbye Prank | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ (minors dni), oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, swearing, lots and lots of crying, deep hand cuts, angst!!

WC: 7k+

Chapter Summary: The boys are ready to move on to bigger and better things. What happens when Y/N finds out?

Series Masterlist

***

March 13th, 1996

“Hold still.” Y/N spoke sternly as Fred jerked his hand away from her, wincing in pain.

George was pacing back and forth in the background, glancing over at the couple every so often, anger filling his entire being.

She had really gone and done it this time. That poor excuse for a professor.

“Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.” Y/N seethed through gritted teeth as she concentrated on the task at hand.

“It really isn’t that big of a deal Y/N. It’ll heal on its own.” Fred cried out, not wanting his brother and girlfriend to worry about him.

“No, Fred you don’t understand! That bitch has gone too far this time. Detention is one thing... but this,” She placed a drop of alcohol on the plethora of cuts, making Fred cry in pain. Tears welled his eyes and he kept his lower lip beneath his teeth to quiet himself.

He didn’t want to be a bother.

“This is abuse, she can’t keep getting away with this!” She continued to rant.

“Y/N darling,” He spoke assuringly, slipping his hand away from her tending grasp and placing it on her cheek to calm her down. His eyes were soft and pleading for her to settle.

“She will never hurt me. This is temporary, but she will never truly hurt me.” A tear slipped out of her eye. She couldn’t help but feel that this was all her fault, that she was the reason he had gotten detention in the first place.

The day before, Y/N and Fred had been snogging in a dark corner near the restricted section in the library, and while she was doing her daily lurking, Umbridge came across the couple, threatening punishment immediately.

Before she could get a hold of both of them, Fred pushed Y/N away, demanding for her to run back to her dorm.

He himself hadn’t had the time to escape which led to him getting captured by Umbridge’s evil clutches, even if she only stood at a whopping four foot eleven.

So here he was, bleeding from the hand, all thanks to that pink toad's “special” quill.

In Fred’s chicken scratch writing, his hand read;

I will not coerce with mudbloods.

It had been speculated since she began “teaching” at Hogwarts that she was secretly a death eater. This was strong evidence to support said claim.

“This is all my fault.” Y/N murmured, making both twins shoot their heads up in surprise.

“Godric no! Y/N never say that again! I don’t care what it takes to keep you safe. And I also don’t care about your blood status. You are kind and smart and beautiful and a brilliant witch.” His words were full of hurt, hurt that she would think that of herself.

Fred knew Y/N was self conscious of the fact that she wasn’t raised in a wizarding household. That she had to work twice as hard to be where she was in terms of her studies, all because she had to play catch up with her classmates. It took a toll on her and Fred knew this. George knew this. Everyone knew this.

“I’m sorry Freddie I ju-,” He quickly grabbed her cheeks and kissed her to shut her up.

“Just heal my hand love.” He muttered against her lips.

George looked away, feeling like an intruder during a very personal moment.

“Alright.” She sighed out with a soft giggle and sniffle, resting her forehead against his. He soothed her further with a tender caress of her hands. Something she had grown to appreciate deeply.

“Vulnera Sanentur.” She finally spoke, slightly moving her wand and watching as the venomous words began to vanish from his skin.

“Thank you.” He sighed in relief, feeling the pain dissipate with every passing second.

“You’re welcome Freddie.”

April 2nd, 1996

It was the day of the OWL examinations and Fred and George had only one thing on their mind.

Revenge.

After a quidditch incident in which they knocked Malfoy off of his broom for speaking badly about their mother, Umbridge had made the biased decision to ban the twins from ever playing again. And then on top of that, she confiscated their brooms.

Then it was detention for Dumbledore’s Army along with two of his brothers, his sister, his girlfriend and a bunch of his friends and classmates.

Then he and George got in trouble with Umbridge once again for consoling a crying first year who had been a victim to her cruel and unethical detention practices.

Expulsion was a given for what they were about to do. But they didn’t care.

The boys had decided that after Umbridge ruined everything that was good about Hogwarts (e.g, Dumbledore's Army and Quidditch), education was no longer a beneficial part of their lives. Instead, using the money Harry had so graciously given them from his Triwizard earnings, they decided to finally jump ship and start a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes they would call it.

Now all that was left was what they considered to be their most brilliant prank yet.

And this was where Y/N came into the picture.

The three of them strolled down a corridor towards the great hall where Professor Umbridge was administering the OWL examination for the fifth year students.

Y/N was more than happy to help the boys with their prank, often being used as a siren for their sneaky schemes. She didn't, however, know the exact reason for this prank.

She didn’t know this was goodbye.

Fred and George drew a blank when trying to figure out how to tell Y/N about their plans for the future. It killed Fred to think that this could possibly mean leaving his girlfriend behind, even if it had been a dream of his and George’s for so long to start the biggest pranking empire the wizarding world had ever seen.

So while the twins spent weeks and weeks planning their departure, Fred also tried to think of ways to ask Y/N to go with them and leave Hogwarts for good.

Finally at the entrance of the great hall, they quickly went over the plan in secret whispers. Y/N then waited for her cue to enter the large space to create the much needed distraction.

With a tap on the shoulder, Fred and George gave Y/N the go ahead to start her one woman show. She let out a shake of nerves and ran in, coming to a complete stop at Umbridge's feet at the front of the hall.

“There are OWL examinations happening in this room. What is the meaning of this?” Umbridge spoke in a rather agitated but sickly sweet tone.

“There’s a few students playing around with banned Weasley products outside in the halls Professor. Causing a real disruption.” Umbridge clenched her fists. She couldn’t stand the twins.

All eyes were on Y/N. Most students knew she was Fred’s girlfriend so it was quite amusing to see the confusion on their faces.

Umbridge would have also seen through the act if she hadn’t been currently seething to the core.

“Right well, lead me to them Ms L/N.” She said tugging at the bottom of her pink tweed blazer. Y/N nodded, beginning to walk ahead of Umbridge towards the entrance, all the while, giving the boys the countdown for their surprise.

At one, Y/N noticed a gleam in the twins' eyes as Fred tossed a Whiz-bang right in front of Umbridge’s nose. Y/N quickly got out of the way as the Whiz-bang began to wreak its havoc. Umbridge yelped and screeched as she tried to outrun the now fully formed dragon that had emerged from the sparks. The professor was no match for Fred and George Wealsey, that was for certain.

As everything began to escalate, Fred and George mounted their confiscated brooms with conviction.

Fred took a moment to look over at his beaming girlfriend before placing a quick reassuring peck on her lips. The boys then pushed off the ground and zipped through the large room, their hoots and hollers of adrenaline trailing behind them.

Students cheered as examination papers floated about, all caused by the gusts of wind from the speed of the boys brooms. Then once enough students had gathered on to the balcony, the letter W appeared in the sky in the form of fireworks. It stood proudly amongst the clouds that it almost brought a tear to Y/N’s eye. These boys were legends.

It was quite spectacular to say the least.

———

Later that night, Y/N laid awake, feeling slightly concerned about the twins. Neither one of them had contacted her to say where they were or when they would be back.

Feeling uneasy, Y/N pushed her dark maroon sheets off of her body and headed towards the window hoping to see any sign of the twins returning.

Nothing.

She let out a shaky sigh but became startled when she heard a quiet thump behind her.

Once she quickly spinned around she noticed the outline of her boyfriend standing in the darkness, with just a splash of moonlight cascading over his face. Even in the shadow she knew which twin she was dealing with.

“Fred!” She whispered through a smile before jumping from the window seal and running over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her with a tightness that she had never felt from anyone else. It was almost as though if he were to let go she would simply slip away into nothing. She frowned over his shoulder and pushed back from the hug to look into his eyes, hoping to find all of the answers to the questions she had in them.

“Fred?” She asked, beginning to notice that sick stomach feeling again within her.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.” His tone was stern and pointed.

She felt an inkling as to what this was all about.

“Fred don’t worry, If Umbridge tries to expel you I’m sure Dumbledore can override it, right?” His expression didn’t shift.

“Right?” She repeated with an unsure tone, starting to think that the worry of expulsion wasn’t why he was here. The flips and turns in her gut became more and more alive. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Why wasn’t he saying anything god dammit?

“Did something happen Freddie?” Her voice was shaky, almost as if she couldn’t trust it.

“I need to talk to you about something. Something important that could change the rest of our lives.” Y/N could sense his nervousness from a mile away.

“Bloody hell Fred this doesn’t make me feel good.” He quickly placed a hand on her cheek to calm her nerves. She instinctively leaned into his calloused palm.

“Before you say anything, let me explain and then you can tell me what you think.”

“I’m thinking that the other girls will wake up if we don’t have this conversation somewhere else.” He finally looked at their surroundings noticing the other bodies sleeping soundly within the room.

“Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the dark dorm and down to the undisturbed common room.

“You’re scaring me Fred. Tell me what’s going on.” She watched him closely as he paced back and forth, clearly thinking about what to say next.

“George and I are leaving.”

“Not if Dumbledore has anything to say about it.” She responded, still very much left in the dark. Fred released a sigh and sat her down on one of the couches. The crackling fire filled the tense void between the two lovers.

“No, Y/N, we are leaving tonight. Getting away from Umbridge, from Hogwarts. We have a storefront in Diagon Alley that we are going to turn into the most wicked joke shop any witch or wizard has ever seen.” Y/N’s face was unreadable.

“Freddie the prank is over now. You don’t need t-” She said with a nervous laugh which he cut off.

“Y/N I’m serious. I know it’s hard to believe, but this time I need you to trust me. We are leaving Hogwarts, for good. George and I are going to be creating one of the biggest wizarding enterprises ever…. and, I want you to come with us…. with me.”

Y/N pulled her hands away from Fred’s. The skin on her neck crawled.

“Fred I- I don’t know what to say.” Her breathing began to quicken. She was panicking. She couldn’t just leave. She had friends, an education, a life here at Hogwarts.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just need you to know that I love you and this doesn’t mean that I want us to end.” She shook her head repeatedly, wiping away the tears streaming down her face.

Fred grabbed her cheeks and pushed his lips against hers. He could feel the salty wetness from her eyes transfer from her skin to his, and it broke his heart into a million pieces knowing that he was the cause of it.

Y/N wanted to push him away so badly. He had made the choice to walk away from everything that they had built together. How could she ever forgive him? Instead of conveying this to him, she moved to straddle his lap. He leaned against the back of the couch and placed his hands on her hips, holding on for dear life.

“Please.” He whispered.

She didn’t respond but rather pushed herself deeper against him, slightly grinding her hips.

“I’m sorry.” Was all she said, in a soft shaky tone. They both knew what she was apologizing for.

They took a moment to just look at one another.

Y/N then spoke before she had time to think her words through,

“Show me you really mean what you say. Show me that you truly love me. Show me before you go and forget all about me.” Tears flowed between the two of them.

“I could never forget you.” He said in a hurt whisper. Her eyes trailed down to their connected laps in shame, embarrassed that she was making a huge selfish fuss over his plans of a brighter future. Fred took her face in his hands and made sure to really get a good look at her before swiftly laying her flat on her back against the couch.

“Is this alright?” He asked while softly stroking her thigh. She let out a trapped sigh and nodded as she shimmied herself further into the cushions. Fred gave her a melancholy smile before leaning in and enveloping her mouth with his.

Immediately they began to collectively moan as Fred grazed his hand up and down Y/N’s goose fleshed skin and her clothed pubic bone pushed up against his sensitive groin. Just the feeling of his light feather touch had her trembling to his every will. Once he felt that her legs had gotten enough attention, he removed his lips from hers and moved his hands from her thighs as he looked down at her with a face filled with care and worry.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

His fingers were creeping up her inner thigh and past the fabric of her cotton pyjama shorts. She nodded with a soft hum of approval. She bit down on her swollen bottom lip as he began to circle her clit with his middle and index fingers. Then her hand shot up to grab his forearm at the same time as her legs tensed up with pleasure.

“Please Freddie, m-more.” She whined while using her hand to dictate his speed and movements against her sensitive centre.

Fred watched in amazement as his girlfriend laid submissively beneath him, her hair sprawled out as she shimmed and jerked about, all because of his large strong hand that was currently between her legs.

They had never had sex before. The two of them had talked about it a great deal throughout their relationship, but because they spent so much of their time surrounded by friends during school and family during the holidays, it was difficult to ever get a moment to do so.

Fred never really cared about getting caught or the idea of a quicky. He was Fred Weasley after all. Any way he could feel her skin against his was ideal. Y/N on the other hand, had always wanted her first time to be something meaningful. She wanted it to be thought out, where they wouldn’t be distrubed and could have all the time in the world to express their love for one another.

So never once did Fred imagine that this was how the night would end. In the middle of the warmly lit common room where any insomnia stricken student could walk in unannounced.

Fred wanted her to drop everything. He wanted her to follow in his footsteps. But she was her own person, and she had to make her own choices, no matter how much it pained him. At the very least they were able to say their goodbyes by finally giving themselves to each other, whole heartedly.

“I’m going to put a finger in. Is that alright?” He asked softly in her ear, intentionally making it so his mouth hovered close to her neck. She shivered at the feeling of his breath rolling off of her skin.

“Yes Freddie, more than alright.” She was his to take, anyway he wanted.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like it, okay love?” She nodded lightly, completely under his spell.

Fred detached his fingers from her hypersensitive bundle and slowly dragged them down to swirl around the wetness that had formed at her entrance. Once she was fully prepped by his digit, he slipped his index finger inside of her. Even with one digit, he could tell just how tight she was.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned out his inner thoughts before attacking her neck again with a plethora of horny kisses.

Her jaw slacked open in pleasure and her back arched off of the sticky fabric beneath her. His methodical breathing gave her a pace in which she could thrust herself against his finger.

Fred noticed her clench and speed up her hips movements. Not wanting her to finish so quickly, he slowly pulled his finger out of her warmth, resulting in a whine escaping her lips.

“Freddie, come back. Please!” She cried out, reaching out for him. Instead of giving in to her (no matter how badly he wanted to), he slipped off of the couch and got onto his knees in front of her. Y/N sat up and faced him, looking like the goddess Venus herself.

“Off, darling.” He finally said before tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Y/N happily obliged by lifting her hips up and letting him pull the shorts past the curvature of her bum and down her legs to the floor.

“Can you open up for me darling?’ He asked gently, caressing her knees in a circular motion. Y/N adjusted herself in her seated position, the sound of the leather couch filling their ears as she shifted her hips. She then took a deep inhale before slowly opening her legs more and planting her feet far apart from each other. The draft of the room hit her, making her clench her toes for a moment.

Fred’s face heated up as he took in her glistening inner thighs and centre.

“Absolutely stunning love, really.” He bashfully admitted while stroking her spread apart thighs.

This was not the Fred Wealsey that everyone else knew. The crazy, careless prankster who had everyone wrapped around his finger. The Fred Weasley who constantly told innapropriate jokes and boasted about his pranking achievements along with his party animal ways. As he sat there on his knees, between his girlfriends legs, he came to the conclusion that he was the one wrapped around her finger. He was nothing more than a desperate boy who was hopelessly in love with the girl above him.

“All yours Freddie.” Her voice was like sweet red velvet cake getting sliced into on a warm late spring afternoon. Fred let out a soft groan in response to her inviting words before pushing himself forward slightly, preparing himself to attach his lips to her core. He slowly tilted his head to the side, allowing himself full access. His stomach contracted and he squeezed his thighs together, trying to keep the ache in his trousers at bay.

Once he was able to somewhat pull himself together, he placed a gentle kiss to her clit, resulting in her hole clenching and her hips abruptly bucking forward. She grabbed his short red locks in the process and looked down at him through half lidded eyes.

“Look at me baby.” She whispered seductively. His soft brown irises slowly shifted up along her gorgeous welcoming figure to meet her eyes, a clouded look of lust filling them. Now giving her his full attention, Fred moved on from the light kisses he was administering to fully lapping up her arousal with a new found confidence.

“Fuck.” She groaned out while jutting her hips forward and threading her fingers through his hair harshly. He sighed in contentment as he continued to watch his girlfriend unravel above him. All because of his tongue.

And once more, right before she could finish, Fred removed his mouth from her core, wetness covering most of his lower face, chin and all. Before he could make any witty comments about how spent she looked, Y/N grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him up onto the couch to lay on top of her.

His shoulders rose and fell as he panted, still catching his breath from devouring her seconds ago. His covered torso pressed against hers and they could both feel each other's hearts racing, keeping in time with one another.

“Stay with me. Just for a bit.” She pleaded quietly, sadness evident in her voice and tears sitting in the lower waterline of her eyes. Fred immediately sat up and watched her lay deeper along the couch before straddling her waist. He then unzipped his striped sweater, throwing it behind him absentmindedly. Y/N looked up at the red headed boy on top of her with so much love and admiration, moving her hands up and down his clothed chest and stomach. Fred then pulled off his t-shirt, exposing his bare upper body.

Feeling absolutely feral from seeing his lightly freckled porcelain chest, Y/N yanked Fred down by the neck to press their lips together. Most of the time when they kissed, it would be fairly contained and sweet. Now was not one of those times. Teeth clashed and tongues swirled freely making the kiss messy, sloppy and feverish.

Wanting even more contact, Fred pulled one of his hands out from behind Y/N’s head and tucked it under the button up lounge top she had on. She let out a small gasp as he began messaging one of her breasts. He couldn’t go another second without having them exposed and ready for his tender touch.

Quickly sitting up again, Fred started to unbutton the fabric with shaky hands, prominent pants of lust coming from his throat. Noticing him struggling, Y/N anxiously placed her hands over his and started helping him with the buttons.

Once the final button was undone, Y/N’s supple breasts were finally exposed. The cool air caused her nipples to harden and once Fred had fully taken them in, he brought himself down to her chest, sucking on the flesh happily.

Needy for more of him, Y/N dragged her hand down his stomach, stopping at the buckle of his belt. With a few aggressive tugs of the hand me down leather, Fred brought his hand down to help her unbuckle it, gently grazing her hand in the process.

Once the belt was removed, Y/N feverishly pulled at the zipper of his trousers. She was able to achieve the action on her own fairly quickly and began to feel around his lower section, putting her hand past the elastic band of his striped boxers. When she felt his hardened dick, a multitude of somersaults awoken within her. She was hoping somersaults wouldn’t be the only thing she would feel her gut that night.

She took him in her hand, making sure not to grip his aching member too harshly. He bucked forward and closed his eyes, letting out the most beautiful sound that had ever graced Y/N’s ears. Seeing her effect on the older boy had her stroking him faster and faster. Precome from his red tip began to seep between her fingers.

“Yes, yes!” He let slip out with a gasp, digging his face into her neck. She then slipped her hand out from his boxers and trousers, not letting him finish. It was a small act of defiance for doing the same to her earlier.

He whined quietly, nuzzling his nose further into her skin, begging for any kind of release.

“Lift up love.’ She said sweetly, which he did with very little objection. Her arms came around his waist and she pushed his trouser and boxers down more, giving her a full view of his arse as she looked over his shoulder from where she laid. She couldn’t help but stare.

Getting frustrated with the inconvenience of the material, Fred kicked off his shoes and used his feet to push the constrictive material off his lower half completely, including his socks.

Y/N and Fred were now fully naked and exposed.

“Fred, I need you in me.” Y/N begged, desperate for the feeling of being filled up by the boy above her. Fred brought himself up further on to his elbows and tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear.

“Yeah?” He asked, needing her to be one hundred percent sure that this was what she wanted.

“Yeah.” She responded, eyes full of wonder. He couldn’t deny her what she wanted, especially when she gave him that look.

He moved his gaze down to his swollen member that was just barely hovering over her pubic bone. With a steady grip, he jerked himself a couple times to bring up a bead of precome before shifting slightly, laying the tip of his length against her lower lips.

Looking up one more time for confirmation, he was met with a soft expression on her face and her hand stroking his hair gently, giving him a sense of reassurance.

That was all he needed to continue.

He moved forward, looking down to watch his aching length disappear past the folds of her pulsing centre.

The feeling made him release a shaky breath and he laid himself flush against her naked chest, knowing deep down that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up for much longer even if he tried. Y/N hissed when he slowly pushed himself further and further inside of her, his member dragging against her contracting walls. To ease the pain she gripped onto his toned freckles biceps. All those years of swinging his beater bat could be felt underneath her fingertips.

“Freddie,” She cooed, indicating that the pain had started to subside. Her soft words sent sharp bolts of energy through his scalp and all the way down to the soles of his feet. The sensation made him want to move instead of this agonizing stillness they were currently in.

“Ca-can I-I m-move? Fuckin’ ‘ell, can I please move?” He begged, shakiness laced within his words.

“Yeah.” She whispered, tightening her grip on the roots of his hair. He groaned at the tugging sensation and began retracting his hips, watching Y/N tense and hiss as he did so. He waited a moment and then pushed forward again, watching as she let out a prominent sigh, releasing all of the stiffness she was holding. His thrusts were small, only moving slightly back and forth so she could get used to the feeling. Every once and a while she would let out these little mewls that made him want to snap his hips. But he had to have restraint.

For her sake.

It was as if she had read his mind because as he continued his methodically shallow pace, Y/N finally spoke up through her moans.

“More Freddie. I need more.” He lifted his head from the cozy spot he had created upon her chest to look her in the eye.

“Are you sure?’ The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

“Christ Freddie, you’re being too gentle! Please just fuck me like you mean it!”

He was dumbfounded by her words. Her begging and pleading awoke something within him and he went to grab her thigh, placing it against his hip. He then set his forehead against hers making sure their eyes stayed connected.

“Like this?” He asked confidently with a tinge of a smirk as he began to roll his hips hard against hers. She let out a loud whine and nodded before looking down to their connected bodies, biting her lip as he continued to slowly and deeply fuck into her the best way he could.

“Yeah just like that.” She responded softly, rubbing her hand along his toned and flexed upper back.

Moans and pants filled the room. Y/N was fully laid back, pulling Fred down with her. With their bodies so intimately entangled, Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her heels against his tailbone, allowing for a new angle to emerge. He was now hitting her g-spot in this position, though she didn’t know that. To her it just felt euphoric.

It just felt right.

After a while she made it so she was fully wrapped around him when she flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him almost as though she were a koala.

“Oh my merlin, you f-f-feel so fu-fucking amazing Fred!” All he could respond with were low grunts of pleasure.

Fred began to quicken his pace when he started to feel his orgasm creep up like a distant sneeze. This had Y/N holding on to him for dear life, also feeling her own climax slowly approaching.

“I-I think I’m go-going to cum.” He spoke in broken words.

“Me too.” She replied through a gasp, gripping onto his shoulder blades that tensed up every time he pushed forward into her now overly sensitive core.

After a few more deep and needy thrusts, Fred began to pull his hips back so he could finish on Y/N’s stomach.

“No.” She breathed out, tightening the grip she had on him, digging her heels deeper into his sweaty lower back. He looked down at her with a confused but blissed out expression, still thrusting sporadically.

“Finish inside me, so I still have a part of you with me when you leave.” He stopped, completely caught off guard by her words. She wanted him to stay with her that badly. It killed him inside, especially as he watched a single tear run down her flushed cheek.

“If that’s okay.” She continued, beginning to retract into herself. She started to think that she had made him uncomfortable and had ruined the moment with her loose words. She covered her face in embarrassment, wishing she could disappear. It would be difficult though with Fred still very much buried inside of her.

Y/N was about to apologize for stepping out of line when she felt him begin to thrust into her with more vigour than before. She took her hands off of her eyes to see Fred concentrating heavily, his face turning into a light shade of red.

“ ‘m close. Gonna fill you up so well love.” Her heart swelled at his words. He was going to do it.

“Fuck, me too Freddie.” With a few more passionate and hard thrusts and a plethora of I love you’s, Fred let out a guttural groan while sloppily painting her jaw with wet, salvia ridden kisses. Then he finally spilled his seed deep inside of her. She gripped on to him roughly, jutting up against his now partly soft member as her legs shook along with her orgasm.

Fred could watch her do that all day.

They had both mostly come down at this point as Fred collapsed on top of Y/N, their sweaty bodies finding a perfect rhythm through their erratic breaths and heartbeats. No words were spoken. Instead they stared off into space, finding a sense of peacefulness in their collective blissed out state. Only the crackling fire made itself known.

Amongst all this, Y/N drew hearts over Fred’s naked back absentmindedly with her fingers. He had almost fallen asleep at her soothing touch. It was what he would miss the most. The silent recognition of love that the two of them shared.

“Freddie?”

He hummed in response, far too gone at that point to give her a coherent sentence.

“I hate that I’m asking you this but, when are you leaving?” Fred’s eyes widened and he quickly shot up to check the time.

It was one-thirty in the morning. He was supposed to meet George at the front entrance half an hour earlier.

“Shit!” He yelled as he jumped up and ran around the common room, resembling a chicken with its head cut off. He frantically collected his clothes that were scattered on the floor.

“Get dressed and grab some shoes.” He said while hopping around, attempting to get his long lower limbs through the leg holes of his trousers. Y/N didn’t ask any questions as she quickly slipped her pyjamas back on and rushed upstairs to grab an old Gryfindor sweater her aunt passed down to her, along with a pair of worn in white converse.

Once she made it back down to the common room, Fred was lacing up his shoes. He must have heard her come down because once she got to the bottom of the stairs he looked up at her from his crouched position, watching her intently as she sat on the bottom step and concentrated on getting her own shoes on.

This moment reminded him of the night of the Yule Ball and how beautiful she looked when she came down those very same steps.

She took his breath away.

Now sporting a ratty old sweater and wearing no makeup whatsoever, his breath still caught in his throat.

She had always been so beautiful.

After a moment of soaking her in for what may be the last time for a while, Fred walked over and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the common room.

“Where are we going?” Y/N whisper yelled as they stealthily ran through the dark ghostly halls of Hogwarts. The only light source they were gifted came from the full moon that could easily be seen through the plethora of archways adorning the castle’s outer walls. The only sounds being the echo of their shoes slapping against the cobblestone beneath them.

Every once in a while when they came to a turn, Fred would abruptly stop and peak around the corner to make sure Filch wasn’t creeping around in the shadows. A habit he picked up when he first became a student at Hogwarts.

“Almost there.” He stated while swiftly moving around a corner, making a non verbal announcement that the area was clear of any caretaker activity.

Y/N helplessly wanted to tug Fred backwards and have them retreat back into the common room for a second round of passionate love making. Possibly even use the Room of Requirements to spice things up. But unfortunately, things don’t always go the way you want them to. Instead she tried her best to keep up with Fred’s lanky legs as he maneuvered them through the halls of Hogwarts.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally made it to the large grand entrance of the school, surprisingly not having gotten caught in the process. Y/N could feel her legs almost give out as they stopped to look out to the vast land of grass, forest and bodies of water, partially due to the large stretch of running she had just done and partially due to the activities that took place in the common room not that long ago.

Her lungs felt cold and sore as she gasped for breath.

“What are we doing here?” She choked out, not paying much attention to her surroundings. She then stood up fully and noticed a few meters away, the other half of her lover. He turned around, travel bag in hand and Angila behind him in all her bright blue glory. The fact that the car still ran was an absolute miracle. Especially after what Harry and Ron had put her through in Ninety-Two.

Fred took her out of her thoughts as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him. George had a beaming smile on his face. He initially thought that the plan had worked and Y/N chose to go with them to help bring their dream to fruition. Then he noticed his older twin shake his head sadly. George’s smile disappeared and his shoulders dropped once he realised what his brother was trying to tell him.

This was goodbye.

“I hear you boys are dropping out?” Y/N called out to George as they got closer and closer to him, an attempt to lighten the mood. He let out a sad laugh as he stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” He responded leaning against the passenger door. Y/N snickered softly as they finally came face to face. She dropped Fred’s hand and pulled George in for a hug, rubbing his back to console him, feeling bad that she had gotten in the way of their perfect plan.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” He asked, words filled with hope.

“I can’t. I need to finish the year and graduate. But this isn’t goodbye Georgie Poorgie.” She said before pulling away from the embrace. He smiled at this and playfully rolled his eyes. He always hated that nickname.

“Will you write?” He didn’t want the last seven years to just go to waste. Neither did she.

“Of course I will.” She moved in closer and whispered,

“Keep an eye on him will you? You were always the more reasonable one of the two.” He chuckled lightly and nodded before leaning in for one more bone crushing hug.

“Bye Y/N.”

“Bye George.” And with that he retreated back into the dodgy Ford to make sure everything was in order for their journey to Diagon Alley.

“So.” Fred said breaking the awkward silence, kicking the stone beneath him, his hands shoved in his sweater pockets.

“So.” Y/N repeated in a light mocking tone. So much had happened in the last few hours that neither one of them really knew what to say.

“I’m never not going to love you, you know that right?” He finally said stepping closer so they were only a couple inches apart from each other.

“Yeah I know. Still wish you weren’t just going and deserting your education but it’s not my place to stomp on your dreams you know.” Y/N let out a sniffle, collecting a couple tears with her fingers.

“I’ll wait for you.” He blurted out. She looked up and gave him a sad smile, taking his hand into hers.

“No you won’t. You will work and work and one day some beautiful girl will walk in and sweep you off of your feet. She will be the perfect girlfriend and one day the perfect wife who will help you and George run the shop and raise your kids while you live out your dream. I know you love me and I love you, more than anything in the world, but Freddie, I cannot and will not hold you back from what I know you can achieve. Be great, focus on that. I’ll always be here for you. But I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t be a shop owner's wife.” Tears began to trickle down both their faces by the time Y/N had finished her little speech.

“Is this you breaking up with me?” His voice was cracked and hoarse. He had thought about this being a possible outcome but chose to push it to the back of his mind, not wanting to face it.

“Yeah...I think it is.” She replied weakly, feeling absolutely guilty and awful. No, this was what was right. He needed to move on.

“You are the only woman I’ve ever loved! No one else!” He said, his voice raising.

Y/N flinched slightly, not used to seeing him this genuinely angry, not even on the quidditch pitch. How could she? The only other time he got this mad was when she was passed out cold.

“Freddie, please. Not here.” Her voice was quiet and shaky as tears streamed down her face. She then noticed George watching from inside the car with a face full of remorse. Under normal circumstances he would have intervened to protect her but he knew she was safe and this conversation needed to happen sooner or later.

Seeing her scared demeanor, Fred pulled back immediately. He hated to see her frightened and vulnerable.

Slowly, he walked towards her and gently brought her into his chest as she sobbed, placing a plethora of gentle kisses on the top of her head.

“I’m sorry Fred, I just can’t I-” She rambled as her small frame shook with tears.

“Shhh. It’s okay, no need to apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled”. His eyes closed with frustration as he let out a sigh. He was angry at himself for getting so cross with her.

“Fred?” She asked once her tears had finally subsided and she could gather her thoughts.

“Yes love?’ He kept his hands around her waist as he leaned back a touch to look down at her.

“One last kiss? Before you leave?” Both of their hearts broke for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“Y/N please don’t.” He felt as though he could cry now.

“Fred, I don’t want to argue. Just do it” She was tired, emotionally drained and not in the mood to negotiate. He let out a shaky exhale and gently took a hold of the back of her neck, leaning down to capture her lips with his.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen with desperation. It felt nice and warm, but also painful. Fred moaned into Y/N’s mouth and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. In response she placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb gently back and forth against his soft freckled skin. His hand then came up to lay gently over hers. The size difference of their hands always made his heart swell.

“I love you.” He said against her lips.

“I know. I love you too.” She muttered. And with that, they separated and embraced for a couple more seconds. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but they had to.

“Bye.” She said with a weak wave once he had finally pried himself from her grasp, backing away further and further before getting into the driver seat.

He couldn't even look her in the eye as he started up the bunged up car, it would just be too painful. Merlin knew if he did, there was a good chance he would run back out to her and forget about everything he had worked so hard for.

The headlights shawn brightly, creating a stream of yellow light against the gravel in front of it. The sound of low rumbles, occasional putters and clanks drowned out Y/N’s re-emerging sobs as she watched the boys begin to drive down the path and up into the night sky. The old beat up Ford swiftly flew further and further away. Then it rippled into oblivion.

Gone.

Y/N held her sweater tightly to her shaking body as her teeth chattered, the only sound being the chilly April wind passing by. The wetness of her fresh tears brought an extra sense of coldness to her face. She stood in place far longer than necessary, secretly hoping that piece of junk car would reappear.

It never did.

[thosewickedlovelies]

The answer  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Summary: Questions are asked and answered. Takes place immediately following “Ask me”

Rating: E for Explicit

Tags: SMUT, threesome, reader is penetrated; best friends who have always been a little bit in love with each other vibes (inspired by this photo)

Word Count: 1,743

A/N: I’ve been kinda wanting to challenge myself to do a gender-neutral smut piece, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to do so :) I’ve never written anything like this before (in terms of both the gender-neutrality and the gay vibes), so I’m open to (gentle) constructive criticism <3

--

“Worry about me later, baby,” Frankie urges. “Right now what I want is to take care of you.” Nectar drips from his voice like that fateful fruit, slicking your descent toward sweet surrender.

"Or watch me take care of you, anyway,” Santiago adds. Still crouched on his knees before you, lips glistening, the round of his spine suggests laser-focus, a predator about to pounce. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but the look in eyes is deferent as he glances over your shoulder to Frankie.

Your partner’s body enfolds you like a silk hammock, a warm, rippling sea in which you have no fear of drowning. Frankie’s chest is bare and smooth against your back, supporting you as if he’s only here to reinforce your pleasure, and not partake of it himself. Although if his words from moments ago were any indication, he was indeed getting his own enjoyment:

“Too good to me, baby,” murmured through sloppy kisses and removing clothes.

“Fuck, you look so good between us,” groaned into your ear while you squirmed, callused fingers on your nipples and Santi's mouth on your neck.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” satisfaction barely audible over the irrepressible moan that Santi drew from you as he slowly worked you open.

Meaningfully Frankie skates his palms down over your hips, dipping tantalizingly close to the burning between them before winging away. Fingers digging into the plush flesh, he spreads your thighs for Santi.

Again. The air vanishes from your lungs at Frankie’s gesture.

He keeps you pinned open as Santiago inches forward and you’re certain you’re trembling, even as fresh arousal wells in anticipation. This feels so much more, somehow- suddenly immediate and undeniable that you’re really here, about to be fucked by your boyfriend’s best friend while said boyfriend holds you open for him.

Perhaps because this isn’t just affecting you. You note, through the throbbing heat demanding your attention, the tension in Frankie’s body framing you. How careful Santi is about where he places his hands- on you or the couch, no longer bold and teasing with Frankie. The skitter of his gaze, like he doesn’t know quite where to focus now that he’s facing both of you so directly. You wonder where Frankie is looking.

When Santi is finally nestled to the base inside you, an inch for every panting breath, you’re not the only shaky one. His muscles quiver with the effort of holding himself over you, the feeling of you engulfing him threatening to overwhelm his good sense. For a moment there is only the strained rise and fall of your chests as both men wait for you to adjust. It’s akin to being rocked by the swells of an ocean, only in this case your anchor is Santiago, keeping his hips flush with yours, keeping you present on the delicious, searing stretch of his cock.

Frankie’s tongue on your neck makes you shiver, and Santi gasps when you clench around him. Smiling, you admire the gleam of sweat at his temples, the desperate lines around his squeezed-shut eyes. It’s difficult to maneuver yourself in this position, but you arch your body into his as best you can, giving him permission to move with a squeeze of his muscular ass.

A raspy laugh slips from him. It’s a bit clumsy at first- accommodating to the weave of limbs in which the three of you are entangled. Possibly this would be easier on a bed or even the floor, but it’s far too late to move now, lost in each other as you are. You know the boys would agree- even if you had the opportunity to be transported with merely a snap of the fingers, it feels right that this should happen here, on a slightly cramped couch, stifling smiles and snorts of laughter but never your eagerness for each other.

Santiago is impossibly beautiful like this. Every hard-earned muscle on display, working in harmony to the cadence that’s always swayed the three of you, however unconsciously. His eyes half-lidded and hazy, his little groans of effort and pleasure complementing Frankie’s caresses. It’s clear from Frankie’s own awed murmurs that he’s experiencing the same bliss you are, and he lets his hands linger on your front so his knuckles brush Santi’s torso. Like strings on a loom pulling gradually tighter, the design you three are creating becomes steadily clearer.

“Damn,” Frankie says hoarsely. The angle of your head prevents you from seeing his expression fully, but you make a wordless sound of wholehearted agreement.

“Mm?” Santiago hums in question despite his own daze, spying something in Frankie’s face that you missed.

“Just…it’s obvious which one of us aged better.”

Frankie’s voice is strained, his body tense. He’s been hard since the moment Santiago said yes, but a tangible slippery patch has grown against your back while the other man rocked in and out of you, long, measured strokes making an easy smear of Frankie’s cock.

Santi looks up, startled. Then his smile crooks. “Shut up, Frank,” he laughs, and the kiss to your shoulder doesn’t feel like it’s for you.

Frankie chuckles, raspy and affectionate, and it’s like the picture is finally identifiable, an outline of this potential future woven clear.

The turn of your head gets their attention. Santiago slows his hips as you stretch your neck toward Frankie, his lips just reachable in this position. But Santi’s thrusts still entirely when you face him next, your kiss brim-full of the same contentment you’d given Frankie. Something fraught flickers between the two men when you pull back; Santiago looks almost shy as, hesitantly and then all at once, he presses his lips to the corner of Frankie’s mouth for a lingering, reverent second.

Frankie’s eyes close and his head tips back as Santi drops his forehead to your shoulder. His curls catch on the bristly hair of Frankie’s jaw, steady, rhythmic again, and you’re not sure of the delineations between your bodies anymore. You feel full, in more ways than one, surrounded both physically and emotionally.

Frankie’s moans are music to your ears as you reach behind you, stroking his cock as best you can while semi-laying on it. Fuck, his husky sounds never fail to heat your blood- a new experience for Santiago, you’re guessing, from the way his eyes flare, fixed on his friend’s dropped-open mouth. There’s been no particular hurry to your activities thus far, but a sense of urgency is growing now, blossoming with every drag of skin on skin, every throaty plea weighting the humid air.

It’s not long before Santi’s grasp on your shoulder slips, flushed with sweat as you are. Fumbling, he braces himself on Frankie’s broader frame, and your partner holds his hand in place, unthinking. Santiago swears. He looks you over, eyes a little wild, then back up at Frankie, imploring.

Obliging, Frankie’s other hand snakes down your front, fingers searching, circling where you’re most sensitive. Distantly you’re aware of him rutting against your back, tiny whines scraping his throat with a familiar desperation. Everything in you tightens around the slick jerk of his fingers.

You cry out as you come, hips arching into Santiago, flattening Frankie’s hand between you. Santi gasps ragged and guttural as you spasm around him, and your rapture careens abruptly higher at the speed and force with which he’s suddenly slamming into you. A jumble of hands hold your shuddering frame in place as Santiago finds his own release, shoving the three of you impossibly deeper into each other.

For a moment it feels as if you’re floating, your body tethered only by the bruising clutch of your hands and theirs. As your awareness returns, you notice that Frankie is rigid behind you, still quivering, his lower half contorted as if to gain as much contact with your skin as possible.

Oh. There’s far too much wetness against your back for it to just be sweat.

A giddy, dreamy laugh wisps from your next exhale. Frankie doesn’t react, but Santi rolls his head to face you with a drowsy hm?

You disentangle one of your hands and lift it to gently rub Frankie’s scalp with your fingertips, tousling the curls as if scratching a pet’s ears. “Just glad we were all able to make it.” Your still-breathless tone carries your meaning. You twist your head to kiss the nearest bit of him, which happens to be his jaw.

Santi lifts his head, his expression somewhere between surprised and smug. Frankie only gives an airy shrug, inclining his head to mouth at your shoulder; the space now shared by both men’s faces.

“Meant what I said,” Frankie offers in his low voice. His gaze flits over what it can reach of Santiago’s naked body.

Surprise completely overtakes the smugness in Santi’s face, his mouth curving up as if he’s powerless to stop it. You observe in delighted disbelief. You know from experience how much it normally takes to make Santiago blush- yet here he is, all afluster at a few words from Frankie. Chuckling, Santi ducks his head again.

You wriggle sideways slightly so as to better see more of Frankie’s face, a shift that results in Santi leaning on him with his whole arm and flank. The thoughtful flicker of his eyes over Frankie’s further exposed torso doesn’t go unnoticed.

“We’ll see,” is all Santiago says; but his contentment is palpable, his tiny smile a confession. Frankie relaxes as the other man collapses again, this time with his head more on Frankie’s shoulder than yours.

The sun is past its peak now, longer shadows interrupting its shine through the windows, but the three of you don’t need it. You can all but see the afterglow illuminating, the way the filaments of a lantern gradually brighten as they warm, casting gentle light on the possibilities presented here.

You regard Santi with an indulgent smile. You sweep it up to Frankie next, softening at the sight of his unruly hair and the relief with which he returns it. There’s an unspeakable kind of gratitude mingling with the adoration in his eyes. As if his thanks could possibly be necessary; as if you would have ever denied either of them the opportunity to explore such long-contained feelings, no matter what your original proposition for this afternoon may have been.

“Next time,” Frankie murmurs, his lips brushing Santiago’s brow, “we’re doing this in a bed.”

--

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb

[monsterfuneral]

sparks in the rain | bill and ted | ch. 2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Coming Soon

Relationship: Poly!Bill and Ted x Fem!Reader

Summary: A malfunction with the booth lands Bill and Ted into the most peculiar situation they’ve been in, stuck in the year 2021 standing in front of a woman they never thought they’d meet. 

Words: 1.5

Warnings/Tags: nothing

Author’s Note: After like actually outlining this a little more, I think this story will end up being one of my favorites I’ve written.

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

This was the most unusual day for both Bill and Ted. Sure they had experienced mishaps with the booth, and sure they had also met people that they vaguely knew about. But they had never met someone that knew about them. Especially when it came to an on screen babe like Armageddon Lady, who had totally been Bill’s biggest crush for a majority of his teenage years. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Ted though. And here she was in the weirdest of coincidences, standing right in front of them. 

“What?” Ted asked dumbly as he heard the girl in front of them blurt their names. His brain struggled to keep up with the situation. 

“Dude she totally knows who we are somehow!” Bill said with an almost starstruck look on his face, his eyes sparkling in amazement. 

You stayed silent though, staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Your mouth agape as you, like Ted, tried to process what you was going on. While running into celebrities in the middle of your apartment complex was one thing that would never happen, seeing two movie characters that you liked standing just seven feet away from you was next to impossible… No it was impossible. 

You had to be dreaming still. A very vivid dream where you were going to the crafts store to pick up a new set of markers, before suddenly running into Bill and Ted of all people... In a dream. There was literally no other logical explanation. 

“Woah, you look like you’re going to hurl, Miss. Armageddon Lady, dude- babe.” Bill stumbled on his words like a nervous child talking to his first crush. Which honestly wasn’t far from the truth. 

“I- This isn’t real.” You concluded, finally removing your hand from inside of your purse and straightening your back. You were almost tempted to just turn around and walk back into your apartment, but you didn’t. Instead you thought over the jumbled words Bill had said to you, something sticking out more than anything else. “Why do you keep calling me that?” You asked, your brows drawing together as you looked at the blonde for answers who looked at you with widened eyes. 

Ted suddenly remembered something Rufus had told them not too long ago, alternative universes and whatnot, where things are different from their world but can also connect somehow. He talked about how sometimes the booth can malfunction and send them rocking into another circuit without them even noticing. That’s probably how they ended up here! 

“Bill... I don’t think we’re in our world anymore.” Ted chimed before Bill could even attempt to come up with a sufficient answer that would satisfy you. 

“What?” Bill asked, looking up at Ted. 

“Yeah! Remember the thing Rufus told us a few months back?” 

“Don’t over-tighten the guitar strings because they could break?” Bill answered, bringing up an entirely different conversation they had with Rufus. 

Ted shook his head looking behind his shoulder and to the still sparking booth “No dude! The whole alternate dimension thingy.” 

“OH YEAH!” 

You watched the both of them converse, your own brain still trying to catch up with the bizarre situation, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream. You tried pinching your arm a few times, at least testing it out to see if that trick even worked, but you were still standing in the same place right in front of them. It was all so much to process at once and so early in the day, even though it may have been 11am, it was still too much. 

“So you really didn’t put in the wrong number then.” 

“I told you so Bill!” 

They paused, smiling at each other before both shouting “Excellent!” in unison before air guitaring. The action was all too familiar but unfortunately missed the overlapping guitar that would play when they did it. Both boys stared at each other for a second afterwards, beaming smiles still ontheir faces. Their stare lasted a beat longer than you were used to seeing on screen. 

A shiver wracked through your body, the jacket you had not shielding you from the cold that the rain brought like you had hoped it would. You clutched your arms, pulling them a little tighter to your chest. It only continued to solidify the fact that this was probably real and not a dream at all, like you had thought. I mean, sure you had considered the possibility of fictional universes being real, who hasn’t? But it was just a theory you played into half-heartedly but never considered it to actually be true. 

A hand waved in front of your face, jolting from your deep train of thought where everything you previously thought was impossible could be and it was just too much. Reality as you knew it was both expanding and collapsing all at the same time. 

“You good, other dimension babe?” Bill asked, a small smile on his face as you stared at him with wide eyes.

Ted tilted his head as he watched you curiously. Sure you looked like Armageddon Lady and her actress, but you were neither, you just looked like them. He had an easier time accepting this as a reality than you did though, already having his experience with the impossible. But you looked like you were about to explode from the overload of information. He felt sympathetic. He thought back to a conversation he had with Rufus a year after their first time traveling in the booth, remembering how Rufus told him how he had seen others cope with the discovery of time travel, how some people just could not handle the information and it literally drove them to insanity. Ted would feel like such a dick if that happened to you, even if he didn’t know you. 

“I-” You started, abruptly stopping as you tried to piece your words together “I think so?” You clutched the strap to your purse a little harder, blunt nails digging into the leather slightly “This is all just… A lot to process.” 

“That’s okay!” Ted reassured softly with a wide grin, his hair falling in front of his eyes slightly as he nodded and looked down at Bill who was also nodding along. 

Your fingers were starting to feel numb and you shifted on your feet for the first time since you were stopped in your tracks. Your knees felt stiff from not moving for so long and you were shaking a lot more than you thought, the cold starting to deep into your bones and making your teeth chatter. You were sure they weren’t feeling any better as they were both wearing short sleeved shirts, and Bill was wearing a crop top. 

“I know you guys don’t know me but it’s freezing out here and it’s supposed to get colder.” You said looking back at your apartment door, trying to draw your coat closer around you “Would you like to come inside? I can make some coffee-” You watched Bill pull a face at the mention of the bitter beverage “Or some hot chocolate, up to you.” 

“Sounds great.” Ted answered, glancing behind him once more at the booth before back at you, “Lead the way!” 

The warmth of your apartment was more welcoming than the quickly dropping temperature outside. The rain clouds had left the sky dark and your living room was close to being pitch black. You carefully maneuvered past the couch and over the bean bags that were carelessly strewn across the floor in front of the TV stand. You felt for the pull-chain underneath the lamp shade, the black tassels tickling against your forearm. Finally your fingers grasped around the thin chain, gently yanking it and letting the light finally fill most of the room. The large leg lamp glowed on the small table tucked in the corner of your living room. A lovely gag gift you had been rewarded on christmas a year or two before at a friend’s party. While A Christmas Story was very much an overplayed movie on the holiday’s and certainly not your favorite, you still enjoyed the gift. Finding it pretty cool that someone had gone through the effort of getting something like this as the winner’s gift.

“Woah...” One of the boy’s muttered from behind your couch. You turned around and gave them a small smile, walking over to the other side of the living room to turn on the other lamp so the room was fully lit up and you weren’t going to trip over your own feet by accident. 

“Pretty neat huh?” You asked, always finding people’s reactions to the infamous lamp rather funny.

They both looked at you simultaneously, their eyes sparkling in wonder.

“You’re so cool…” Ted whispered. 

You let out a quiet laugh, trying to push down the heat that had suddenly started to rise up your neck, to your cheeks, and finally finishing at your ears. Never in your life did you think you could be receiving praise from Ted Theodore Logan himself. This really felt like it was too good to be true. 

“Thanks.” You replied, turning your back to them so they didn’t catch on to your flustered state. “So, how about that hot chocolate?” You asked, walking over to the white cabinet that held your collection of mugs.

[crispyjenkins]

“Chosen One Obi” sequel sneak peek

(i’ve been fighting the same prompt for a month now, and this chapter of hunger is even worse and it is just   n  o  t   happening this week. seriously, this is the worst block i’ve had on a story in years, and it’s exhausting and i’ve tried giving them both breaks, tried scrapping it all and starting over, flipping povs, changing the outline, butttt nada.

so! while i can’t give a sneak peek of my current secret project, i have been thinking about that chosen one obi prompt again, and thought y’all might like to see what i’ve been playing with in terms of a sequel. ‘think i might get the next dha kar’ta out while i figure out what tf is going on with my brain (ღT◡Tღ)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

-

  When Quinlan steps into his buir’s cantina in Foxsoll, looking like he’d seen the second coming of the Sith, Obi-Wan is too surprised to focus on the whispers the Force is trying to weasel into his mind. 

  Frozen behind the bar, Quinlan comes to him through the early-evening crowds, and how many times had he thought about visiting the Temple? About checking in on his friends? How many times had he talked himself out of it?

  “Obi-Wan?” Quinlan asks, as if afraid of the answer; Obi-Wan hasn’t heard that name here in far too long, not since Jango and Jaster had last been around.

  “Quinlan,” he whispers back, and wonders if someone had spiked the papuur’gal at lunch.

  Blinking, Quinlan looks him up and down quickly as something seems to connect in his mind. “Oh,” he says, looking floored, and the Force refuses to tell Obi-Wan what conclusion he had come to. “It’s you?”

  Obi-Wan frowns worriedly. “Are you alright, Quin?”

  “It’s you? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

  Chalmun senses the change in mood immediately, latching onto the edges of Obi-Wan’s mind as he all but storms out of the back storeroom with a few choice Xaczik swears on his lips. Obi-Wan doesn’t get the chance to tell him Quinlan is a friend, because Chalmun takes one look at Quinlan’s expression and comes to a realisation of his own, before grabbing the both of them by the back of their tunics to drag them to the private lounge. Obi-Wan knows better than to protest, but Quinlan yelps in surprise.

   Chalmun hasn’t been a Journeyman Protector in almost five years, but he hasn’t lost the bearing, nor the wall of blasters and bowcasters at the back of the lounge; Quinlan takes this all in quickly, but as soon as Chalmun sets them on their feet, he’s right back Obi-Wan’s space.

  “Why the kriff didn’t you say anything?” he demands, distressed and angry, and Obi-Wan automatically reaches out for his mind, trying to project calm and peace.

  “I’m so sorry, Quin, but there was Xanatos, and the Mand’alor found me and I didn’t– I didn’t think the Temple would want me–”

  Stunned, Quinlan looks from Obi-Wan to Chalmun and back again. “Wait, no– No, Obi, why didn’t you tell us you were the Chosen One.”

  Ah, this nonsense again.

  Obi-Wan deflates and glares at his buir over Quinlan’s shoulder. “It’s nice to see the crazies hadn’t died out,” he scoffs, and Chalmun just shakes his head.

  “You know everyone can feel it, cub.”

  Quinlan knows enough Shyriiwook to at least guess what Chalmun says. “How long has he been like this?”

  It takes Obi-Wan a moment to realise Quinlan isn’t even speaking to him anymore, Chalmun giving a great shrug. “Always.”

  “But that...” Quilan reaches out a gloved hand, Obi-Wan allowing him to almost touch him, to skate over the Force just above his skin.

  “Anyone with a midichlorian count above baseline can feel it,” his buir adds unhelpfully. “It’s caused us quite a few problems, when the less savoury sort have come poking around.”

  “Buir,” he sighs, but allows Quinlan to touch him fully, hand pressed along and down his neck. “Quin, you knew what I felt like before, I don’t–”

  “Yeah, you’ve always felt like this,” Quinlan breathes. “But not like this.”

  “What the kriff does that even mean.”

  “If... Kriff, you’d been at the Temple longer than anybody in the crèche!”

  “I am even less sure of what you’re trying to say now.”

  Shaking his head, Quinlan looks up at Chalmun with a mutual understanding that Obi-Wan does not share. “Does it get easier to look at, the longer you’re around him?”

  “Indeed. He is still a lantern, I could find him from the other side of the planet, but you stop thinking about it.”

  At Quinlan’s sheepish expression, Obi-Wan sighs and translates for him. 

  “Master Plo called you that, too,” he says to Obi-Wan after a moment. “A lantern.”

  “I’m not the ‘Chosen One’, Quinlan.” He steps out from under Quinlan’s hand and glares at the both of them, trying to ignore the way the Force chimes in his head like he’d chosen the wrong answer on a gameshow holo. “Why wouldn’t the masters have sensed it?” If what he remembers about the prophecy is correct, someone would have noticed before now, before Bandomeer.

  “Obes, I think we were all just used to you. Kriff, hey, you remember the Zabraki woman, who came to write about the architecture of the Temple? Maker, we should have realised then, she even called you ‘the chosen’...”

  “Perhaps you will have better luck with him,” Chalmun rumbles. “He will not listen to me.”

  “That sounds in character.” Smiling, Quinlan shuffles to pull a datapad out of the pack over his shoulders. “I’m a Shadow now, Obes, Master Tholm wouldn’t hear of it until I’d given it a shot. I’m here on a mission from the High Council, from Master Windu, there’s some rumours in the lower levels of Coruscant about a Force Sensitive on Concord Dawn. And, when Master Qui-Gon finally faced du Crion, he let slip he’d been looking for the Chosen One as well.”

  Xanatos du Crion. The reason Obi-Wan is even hiding in Mandalore Space in the first place, a dark shadow that has not left his mind since he had tracked Obi-Wan here through Jango. 

  “Master Ti thought it all too much to be coincidence,” Quinlan is saying, holding out the datapad that Obi-Wan doesn’t even bother looking at. It is time, the Force whispers to him, we can hide you no longer. “And then as soon as I touched down, I felt you, Obi-wan. The– The Agricorp masters said you never made it to them, that you would were still in the spaceport when du Crion bombed it. No one knows you’re alive.”

 Chalmun takes the pad instead, looking it over even though Aurebesh isn’t his strong point. “The Mand’alor and I have been keeping him safe out here, we knew others would seek out his power. And I knew we could only do that for so long; it seems we’ve finally run out of luck.”

-

Mando’a: buir —��parent”, gender neutral papuur’gal — a Mandalorian wine, probably akin to a white wine

[steviespanties]

Special Treats For Good Cat Boys on AO3 for full tags. 2.6k, Rated E. Unapologetic smutty fluff with a chubby catboy!Steve in panties, pregnancy kink (without mpreg) and a very successful Valentine’s Day date night~ Fitting for the @harringroveheart-on prompts Lingerie, Champagne and Date Night and a belated b-day present for @rvspberryjvm 😊💗💗

It’s the second week of snow coming down on the city, covering houses and streets in sheets of white over and over again until all sound is muffled when Steve walks outside. Even with his sharp hearing, face wrapped in his favorite scarf, he has to strain his ears to not get surprised by people coming around corners.

Icy wind bites into his cheeks and once again he’s grateful for the incredibly fluffy knit hat Robin sent him for Christmas. It’s got holes for his ears to poke out in perfectly placed spots- something Billy sneakily helped figure out for her, she’d admitted on the phone.

“Good thing I convinced you to buy the more expensive winter coat, huh?” Next to him, wrapped in said coat, a blood red scarf, his hat and mittens, Billy looks a lot less grumpy when he doesn’t have to complain about freezing his ass off. Steve snickers at the glare thrown in his direction.

“How could I’ve known that winter in Michigan is even worse than Indiana?”

Steve laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone tried to warn you in advance and you turned deaf all of a sudden?” He gets an adorable pout in response that Billy will deny up and down ever showing. He wants to reach out and kiss the corner of Billy’s pouty lips till he can’t help but react with a grin.

Bags full of groceries swing between them as they bicker back and forth. At a street crossing Billy reaches out and carefully brushes snow off Steve’s ear. He smiles back in thanks.

Steve’s ears have become extra fluffy this winter, with a thick undercoat that keeps the snow from melting and seeping into his skin. It’s like his body knew it had to prepare for the more serious cold. Billy can’t keep his hands from petting the new softness of Steve’s fur, taking every opportunity to brush his equally floofed up tail and give him head scratches. Steve’s started to feel very spoiled lately.

They arrive home to a warm apartment and close the door with relieved groans behind them, both glad to have escaped the cold. As they peel off their many layers of clothes, Steve sneaks a glance at Billy. He looks so beautiful when he’s flushed, his tan faded, but his freckles even more visible due to the winter sun. It’s not like Billy isn’t aware that he’s beautiful. Despite getting a bit soft around the middle, he’s still proud of maintaining his muscles. Gives himself finger guns and winks at the mirror when he’s all primped. But he’s also pretty. Long lashes and soft lips, a shimmery fuzz of golden hair on his body that Steve constantly wants to rub himself against. In the dark grey henley he reveals under his coat, he looks effortlessly stunning.

Of course, he catches Steve staring and throws him a smug grin.

“Ready for some food?” Steve nods and grabs his share of grocery bags to follow Billy into the kitchen.

“Starving,” he says. As they unpack, their limited counter space soon overflows with the clutter of their united assembly of their dinner: A spread of baguette slices with cream cheese, topped with caviar or smoked salmon. Cucumber salad, dark grapes and strawberries. Sliced-open croissants stuffed with bacon and scrambled eggs. Ice cream waiting in the freezer. And, of course, two bottles of champagne, already cooled in the fridge and now fizzing enchantingly in two glasses. Steve’s tail swishes excitedly at the mouth-watering smells and it takes a lot of self control not to sneak a bite. Still, Billy seems to have a sixth sense for Steve getting too riled up, because soon enough he bumps their shoulders together. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Put on some music for us while I clean up.”

Steve bumps right back into him. Enjoys the way Billy barely even moves, unbothered and rooted firmly in place. “That sounds good. Thanks.” He can’t resist placing at least a quick kiss to Billy’s shoulder. This close, he can catch a good whiff of Billy’s scent, warm and a little woody because of his perfume. Billy playfully swats at him, which Steve evades in a fluid motion and a with laugh before he slips into the living room.

They’ve spent all afternoon working on a blanket fort that looks even more cozy and inviting than when they left to go grocery shopping. All the lights in the room are covered in red cloth, bathing the place in muted, warm light. Where their sofa usually stands, they’ve turned the entire thing around, thrown a futon in front and surrounded it with pillows and cushions. The cushy interior is flanked by chairs they’ve thrown a massive white sheet on top on, which trails over the back of the sofa and is illuminated by fairy lights on the inside. The mountain of blankets Steve insisted on adding might be a bit overkill, but his stomach gets all fluttery with elation when he looks at it. Like they’ve built their own little nest that calls for him to curl up between soft blankets where he can wait for Billy to join him.

So he hastily selects something sappy to softly play in the background: A REO Speedwagon album that Billy would never admit to liking, but that he has also never protested listening to when Steve's put it on or insisted on turning off either. Steve slips out of his pants, places them behind a cushion where he’s also snuck a bottle of lube and then quickly dives under a blanket when he hears Billy’s approaching footsteps.

“Hey there, kitty cat.” Billy comes into view holding a whole tray with their food, cleverly arranged so he can carry everything in one trip while an ice bucket with their champagne bottles dangles on his arm.

“Here, let me get that.” Steve leans up, careful not to let the blanket slip to reveal his surprise. He takes the tray off Billy’s hands and carefully lowers it to the ground. No snacks directly in the blanket fort if they want to sleep in here tonight. Billy huffs as he puts the bucket down. Lifts his head to make eye contact with Steve, just long enough to notice the mischievous glint in his eyes- and then he leaps forward with a whoop.

Steve yelps at a sudden armful of heavy, cackling boyfriend on top of him. Billy's happiness is infectious and he quickly feels himself join in on the laughter. It's Billy's turn to kiss him, just a lightning-fast peck on the lips that makes Steve wish he'd linger just a bit longer.

They share their first glasses of champagne that tingles on Steve’s sensitive tongue, making him chase its lightness into Billy’s slick mouth. There’s the explosion of briny, salty caviar and mild cream cheese in Steve’s mouth, more sips of champagne followed by cool, smoked salmon. The sensation of the tips of Billy’s fingers against his lips when he feeds him a bite. Holding a strawberry against Billy's lips in turn, he's enthralled by watching sharp teeth pierce the red flesh. Each sip of champagne slips down his throat easily, a perfect, decadent balance to all the different flavors that have danced over his tongue- none quite as addictive as the taste of Billy, though.

And suddenly, their tray is shoved to the side. Shirts are thrown off and Billy’s pants shoved down. The second champagne bottle is halfway empty and Steve’s belly is pleasantly full and warm in satisfaction, making him wriggle in satisfaction. Next to him, Billy inches closer. Crowds into his space until Steve leans back into soft pillows, ears standing up at attention. There’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes, now.

“I got a surprise for you,” he confesses in a hushed voice and slips the blanket down to reveal his present.

“Is that for me?” Billy’s words are smooth whiskey. Sweet and sharp and running over Steve’s body in an intoxicating caress that makes him squirm in place and his tail swish in gleeful anticipation. Billy’s hands close around his soft hips and tug him closer. Thumbs dig into the recently added softness of Steve’s tummy, all plumped up for the winter. He really feels like a spoiled and pampered housecat now, all drunk on treats and alcohol and skin contact.

Billy’s eyes are dark with want when his gaze catches on soft pink lace panties that finally show in all their glory when he fully slips the blanket off.

“You take such good care of me,” Steve says quietly. He wraps his arms around Billy to pull him in and feels a thrill run through him when Billy’s erection brushes against his leg. Clearly, the surprise is a success. “I figured this would be a nice gift.” A tender kiss to his neck.

With a teasing smirk, Billy looks down at the panties. “Oh, I’m very happy.” He snaps the waistband against Steve’s side, making a shocked mew slip out at the sting and his dick respond with a twitch. “But don’t pretend you’re being all altruistic here, babe.” A finger runs over the rapidly hardening outline of his dick and comes to rest right at the head. He pushes down, enough to give a tiny drop of pressure that makes Steve writhe in place, unable to open his mouth and ask for more. There’s just Billy’s warm hand on his hip and that unrelenting point of not-enough-contact. Steve moans.

“Ah, so- so what, not like we can’t both enjoy me dressing up for you!” For a moment, the pressure lets up.

An agreeable hum. “True. You sure enjoy being my pretty boy, though, huh?” And the pressure is back again, just at the sensitive underside of the head of Steve’s dick. That place is like a switch where he’s quickly set on fire just by Billy’s fingers and knowing eyes drinking him up. A small wet spot starts to form where a splash of precome gets trapped between his dick and the fabric of his panties.

“Yeah,” Steve admits as he rolls his hips up. Seeks the pressure and attention as another drop of precome pushes out. “Would enjoy it even more if you fucked me.” That gets him a small laugh.

“Someone’s been getting too spoiled.” Billy sounds positively delighted at Steve’s whining. He can’t help it! He’s spent most of the day opening himself up as sneakily as possible whenever he could get away with it, has made himself drip with lube until his hole has felt open and tender for way too long. Especially now, with Billy hovering above him, he feels himself want a reward for putting in all this extra preparation. He blindly gropes for the lube. Smacks Billy’s hand off his dick and the bottle into his palm and then pulls the fabric of his panties to the side to reveal his twitching, loose hole.

The frown he throws at Billy’s wide-eyed expression might be more of a pout than an intimidating glare. At least there's no protest from Billy, just a determined set to his jaw as he slicks up his fingers in a practiced motion. He shifts from confusion to palpable excitement when first one, then two fingers sink inside Steve with almost no resistance.

“Oh baby,” he croons and leans even further into Steve’s space. Kisses him slow and deep as he presses his fingers in and out in a pleasant drag that finally comes close to what Steve’s been craving all day. He grabs Billy’s arms and luxuriates in the indulgent slide of their tongues against each other and the sting of Billy’s teeth at his lip. He undulates his hips to meet Billy’s movement inside him, chasing the elusive need for more.

When they separate to breathe, he groans a desperate “Come on, I’m ready” into Billy’s ear. No matter how much of a hardass Billy likes to think he is, the strung-out tone of Steve’s voice never fails to give him a palpable full-body shudder that Steve triumphantly notices.

“Fuck, fine.” Billy looks flushed, all gold and pink and glowing in the soft light surrounding them.

The panties are stretched taut over Steve’s dick. Divine, almost too much pressure that makes him squirm as he watches Billy slick himself up. Being trapped drives him a little crazy and makes it impossible to fully hold still, even as Billy clearly tries to go slow while he savoring the sight of Steve all laid out in front of him. He doesn’t want to wait anymore till Billy finally decides they’re ready and shoves his hips down. Pops the thick cockhead inside and makes them both moan at the way Steve hole flutters around it.

“You’re so goddamn hungry for my cock, huh?” Billy thrusts deeper, clearly losing composure. “Pretty princess gagging to be filled up.” Steve helplessly moans as heat pools at the base of his spine and in his belly. He desperately meets Billy’s hips and lets out a long, drawn-out whine. “Bet you can’t wait to get pumped full to carry a whole litter of kittens for me.”

It’s like Billy has found the string he needed to tug on to open the floodgates to fill Steve with an overwhelming, fierce need. To open himself up even more for Billy to claim him inside and out, deeper even than Billy’s cock thrusting into him where it drags at his insides. “Billy,” he sobs, barely coherent, and clings to his back. Digs his fingers into skin and feels strong back muscles shift underneath his hands.

A rising pressure of something primal, inexplicable pulses through him. He drinks in the sensations- of Billy’s body heat and sweat-slick skin rubbing against Steve’s. Billy’s scent that makes Steve salivate for a taste of him. His hair falls down in soft, wavy strands that frame his face and tickle Steve's skin gently. A hand lands on his soft belly, above his trapped dick steadily pulsing hot precome into tight fabric. Billy's claiming where he’s warm and soft and still desperate for more of his touch.

“Or maybe,” Billy breathes against his ear, makes his breath ghost over the sensitive fur. His hand presses down a little harder. “Maybe you’re already carrying.”

He can’t breathe. He’s blinded by the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, unable to keep them open any longer.

There’s just Billy. Inside and out. And the thought of Steve's belly, carrying a small piece of both of them.

It’s too much. He comes, orgasm rolling over him relentlessly. He cries. Scratches at Billy’s back and pushes himself into Billy’s hand, consumed by his cock spreading him wide open, lost in the thought of more. His panties are filled with pulse after pulse of warm, sticky come, trapped mess turning into a feedback loop of shivery, delightful aftershocks.

There’s the most feather-light kisses on his eyelids. Billy’s thrusts slow to an intense, shuddering grind as he empties himself deep into Steve, all satisfied moans and grunts. Finally, there’s air in Steve's lungs again. He fills his nose with deep inhales of their satisfied scents all mixed together.

They rest. Clean up a little. Put on The Breakfast Club while they wrap around each other as they trade kisses and sips of leftover Champagne. Steve’s tail is curled around the arm Billy has thrown over his hips and he purrs in sleepy contentment while his ears are being pet. “You’re gonna be such a good parent” Billy teases at some point and earns himself a light smack to the shoulder that makes him hiss in mock-hurt. Steve places a kiss where he hit to ease the light sting anyways.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

And All Is Singing

One month after Song Lan restores him to life, Xiao Xingchen hears a child crying.

Or: XXC returns, and his past sins and loss of his golden core are not the only things haunting him.

SongXiao - past XueXiao - T - Read on AO3!

Thank you @gusu-emilu for the prompt!

* * *

One-hundred and fifty-seven years.

That’s how long it takes Song Lan to nurse Xiao Xingchen’s shattered spirit back to wholeness and return it to his preserved body.

And now, one month later, Xiao Xingchen lies awake in a roadside inn, wondering if he would have been better off remaining in Song Lan’s spirit-trapping pouch.

Useless. His dead-alive, new-old body is utterly useless. Death extinguished his golden core, left him empty. He can no longer sense the spiritual energy that let him find his way around without his eyes, no longer night-hunt with Song Lan, no longer do anything other than trip along at his partner’s side during the day and lie awake waiting for him to return at night.

No chance of atoning for his sins. No chance of doing anything to deserve this second chance at life.

He turns over onto his side, pretending he can feel the faint stir of spiritual energy in the moonlight he imagines on his face. A full moon, according to Song Lan. He tries to recall its silvery glow but finds that the memory has faded.

Just like everything else about him.

Something wet wells from the corners of his empty eyes, trickles down his cheek, dipping inwards towards his mouth.

It tastes of blood.

He wipes the tear away. Rolls onto his back. Closes his eyes beneath his blindfold.

No. Not quite right.

Patting beside the bed, he grasps the white horsetail whisk Song Lan has preserved all these years. Tucks it in his arms. Lies on his back again, still and silent and doing his best to prevent his chest from rising and falling.

He’s on the border between sleep and wakefulness when he hears it.

The faint sound of a child crying. Low and muffled, as if the child is afraid of being overheard.

A dream. Just a dream…

But he can’t forget the sound.

“Did you hear a child crying last night?” he asks Song Lan anyway the next morning. “I thought I heard something…”

We’re the only guests, Song Lan traces onto Xiao Xingchen’s palm.

Nothing the next night, just the mournful whistle of wind through the treetops as they camp beside the road. Or the next night, or the night after that, or the night after that.

Exactly one month later, Xiao Xingchen is lying beside Song Lan, mind hazy, when he hears it again.

A long, low wail, drifting in through the open window, a sound filled with pain and fear and loneliness. A lonely sound, full of pain and fear and loneliness, the whimper of a wounded child who doesn’t understand why it’s been hurt.

“Again!” Xiao Xingchen grips Song Lan’s arm. “Zichen, I heard it again!”

What?

“A—a child—”

Nothing. Sleep…

Song Lan is right. The night is silent. Just the soothing patter of rain on the roof, the rustle of the breeze ruffling the dripping trees.

But Xiao Xingchen rises, pads barefoot across the room, stands at the window. Warm rain mists his face when the wind shifts, and he fills his lungs with the scent of wet earth, grounding himself in the senses he has left.

A creak of floorboard behind him, and Song Lan lays a hand on his shoulder. Song Lan still dislikes touching other people, but he makes occasional exceptions for Xiao Xingchen.

Xiao Xingchen misses the casual, easy touch of—

Of no one, he tells himself, banishing all thought of Yi City from his mind, as he has countless times these past two months.

But he still offers Song Lan his palm, as much to feel his skin on his as to allow him to speak.

All right?

Xiao Xingchen closes his hand around Song Lan’s. It’s cold, but better than nothing. “I’m fine.”

Don’t look fine, Song Lan says, and slips his hand away.

“I just want to be alone for a bit.” As if he isn’t alone most nights while Song Lan goes night hunting. “I’m going to get some fresh air.” He takes Shuanghua and his walking stick—his last memory of A-Qing—(Don’t think about her, either) —and leaves their room, taps his way out of the inn, goes to stand outside in his thin white inner robe.

He removes his blindfold and tilts his face up to rain, squeezing the cool mud of the courtyard between his bare toes. He walks on a little farther, heart in his mouth at his inability to feel the spiritual energy around him, of walking blindly into the unknown—

Courtyard. Trees, he reminds himself. As always when entering a new place, Song Lan has described it for him. Nobody is around this late in the rain; you’ll be safe.

And if you get lost, Song Lan will always find you.

Always.

Sweeping his stick before him, he walks until he hits the treeline, walks on farther until he enters a clearing. Lies on his back in the wet grass. His blindfold is off, face turned up to be kissed by the warm rain he can no longer sense, only feel.

Washed with rain, soaking in nature, he’s as close to being at peace as he has been since that horrifying realization that he had been returned against his will to the world he’d tried to leave, since waking up in darkness, stabbed with grief and terror so sharp it was like a knife to bone.

The grief had softened into a gentle ache over the loss of A-Qing, but the terror had never truly dissipated, just twisted itself into a fear of an empty future, of an eternal life devoid of worth.

Song Lan uses resentful energy to night-hunt. You don’t seem to have any, but perhaps you can cultivate your core again…whatever you are, you’re not a fierce corpse; perhaps this is still possible. You can be useful again, do good…

Like a puff of air displacing a flower petal, the thought dispels the peaceful feeling, letting the dark thoughts seep in.

Cultivation is what allowed him to cause all the harm he had. Led him astray, helped trick him into killing those villagers, killing...killing Song Lan.

Even to night-hunt again, to vanquish demons alongside his partner—

Not worth it. Not worth the risk.

Not even with Song Lan beside him to protect him from people like—people like—

Don’t think about him.

Think about Song Lan instead.

Song Lan. Song Lan, tending his spirit for a hundred and fifty years with unceasing devotion Xiao Xingchen knows he does not deserve yet still welcomes the thought of.

Warmth blooms in his empty chest as he sinks into the memory of Song Lan holding him every night during those first terrible few weeks despite his aversion to touch, caring for him like a newborn child…

Child.

No. A dream. All a dream…

Silence. The soothing patter of rain on leaves, the warm wetness weighing down his limbs, the earth soft and solid beneath him.

He’s drifting along the border of sleep when he hears it again.

A little boy, by the sound of it.

Not entirely human, by the feel of it.

It wants something from him.

Needs something from him.

It’s almost overwhelming, the pure desperation radiating from the huddled ball of tormented spiritual energy. Different from how he used to sense spiritual energy, but just as distinct.

A whisper of mist over his hand, as if the spirit is touching him, and he opens the eyes he no longer has.

A flash of—of something approaching sight. A cloudy glimpse of a little boy, no older than six or seven, with tear tracks on his filthy cheeks.

“What's your name?” Xiao Xingchen murmurs. He keeps his voice soft, but it’s too much. The spell is broken. The spirit fades into the night, melted by the rain, and Xiao Xingchen is left in darkness again.

He doesn’t tell Song Lan what he sensed that night— saw that night. Can’t risk Song Lan dispatching the spirit before Xiao Xingchen understands what it wants from him.

Needs from him.

Another month passes, each day creeping by.

Anticipation builds as the full moon approaches.

He’ll be ready, this time.

There is no rain this month. Song Lan leaves for a night-hunt before the sun has fully set, heading out into the nearby forest. Full moons always draw out spirits and ghosts. Fuxue will be well-fed tonight.

As soon as he leaves, Xiao Xingchen sits cross-legged in the center of their bed and begins meditation.

Not just meditation.

He has no golden core left to draw upon, but he enters as deep of a meditative state as he can. Reaches out with his feelings, sinks into a state as close as possible to Empathy, into the hazy borderlands between consciousness and sleep.

A scuffling sound, as if something is crawling out from beneath the bed, and again he feels the spirit’s cold touch.

The boy is clearer this time. Misty around the edges, and glowing with a dim silver light, but clearly outlined in the darkness of the room. His hair is long and matted, face gaunt, his throat and cheek bruised and cut. His free hand is tucked inside his ragged tunic, the other resting lightly on Xiao Xingchen’s hand.

“What is your name?” Xiao Xingchen asks, though he doesn’t dare speak the words out loud.

The boy shakes his head.

“What happened to your hand?” Xiao Xingchen asks, trying again. The desperate need of the little boy is almost overwhelming, burning in his sunken black eyes. “What can I do to set you at rest? How long have you been like this?”

The boy shakes his head, but he draws his hand out from his tunic.

It’s all Xiao Xingchen can do to keep from jumping to his feet and breaking the trance. The boy’s left hand is a skin-bag full of pulp, the little finger severed at the joint. Slivers of bone jut through the swollen purple flesh, bright red blood oozing from around each sliver as if the wound is fresh and not enough time has passed for the bleeding to truly start.

“Who did this to you?” Xiao Xingchen whispers, sick, and the desperation in the child’s eyes suddenly turns to undiluted hatred so powerful it’s as if his frail body can’t contain it.

“Chang Cian,” says the boy, and at this Xiao Xingchen does start back, shattering the trance, because he now recognizes the boy.

Recognizes Xue Yang.

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t speak at all the next day. Or the next. On the third day Song Lan finally reaches for his hand.

What’s wrong?

“Nothing.”

Not nothing.

And so he tells him. It can only help if Song Lan banishes the repugnant little spirit, rids Xiao Xingchen for good of the ghost of his tormentor, banishes the last scrap of memory.

Sure it was him?

“I’m positive.”

What will you do?

Xiao Xingchen pulls his hand away and continues walking. They’re on their way to Xinjiang, where they heard of a spate of violent hauntings that the main clans have ignored. “Nothing,” he says. “He deserves whatever purgatory this is.”

Suffering much?

Xiao Xingchen hates the ugly feelings welling in him, hates the cruelty he hears in his own voice. “I think he’s trapped in the last moment he was—was uncorrupted, which was—”

An unwanted memory: "But the man was so irritated at the sound of his crying, that he snatched the driver’s whip and lashed the child’s face, knocking him to the ground. Then the wheels of the carriage rolled over the child’s hand, one finger at a time. He was seven! The bones of his left were completely crushed, while one finger was milled into battered flesh on the spot!"

Song Lan makes a questioning sound in the back of his throat.

Xiao Xingchen walks faster. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

They camp by the side of the road that night. Neither of them need to eat or drink, but Xiao Xingchen needs to sleep, and both appreciate the heat of a fire.

Song Lan takes his hand again as they settle down around the campfire.

Enough time. Enough pain.

Meaning: Hasn’t enough time passed? Hasn’t he suffered enough? Atoned enough?

A spurt of resentment. It’s been harder and harder to keep his usual tight grip on his negative emotions. He’s slaughtered entire villages; what difference would anger or bitterness or selfishness make in the cosmic scheme of things?

“He wiped out your entire temple,” he says. “Killed everyone you ever cared about.” Drove me to death, he adds, but not aloud. Isn’t that alone enough for you?

For a moment he thinks Song Lan is going to accuse him of being the cause of his temple's destruction, as he had on the terrible night so many years ago, but Song Lan just shakes his head.

Don’t forgive him. Will never forgive. But enough time. Enough pain.

“So you don’t care, as they would have all been dead by now anyway. Celibate monks, a mere blip.” Xiao Xingchen hates how good the words feel leaving his mouth, hates how he can’t stop himself from saying them, hates how he doesn’t want to stop himself.

Xingchen—

“The people I killed, entire bloodlines ended— ” The words tumble out, tripping over each other. “ —that can never be atoned for, that can never be undone—”

Worse than what happened to your temple, are the unspoken words, and Xiao Xingchen can almost feel the pain he knows must be twisting Song Lan’s face, and he’s crushed by a wave of guilt.

Xue Yang did this to him. Xue Yang turned him into this useless, empty, cruel thing.

A child. Song Lan’s touch is even lighter than usual, almost hesitant. Just a child, now…

“A monster,” says Xiao Xingchen, and he rises and strides off into the forest, leaving Shuanghua behind.

Song Lan lets him go.

A month. He has another month to decide what to do. A month to savor the thought of the little boy’s terror and agony and—and—

Xiao Xingchen sinks to his knees, dissolving into a fit of tears.

Shameful tears that he does his best to hold in but can't. Instead he sobs silently, the blood staining his pure white robes, sobs until there’s no strength left in his thin, empty body. He lies curled up amongst the fallen leaves, holding A-Qing’s stick to his chest, the memory of the little boy’s tear-stained face rising before his sightless eyes.

The memory of His hand on his elbow, His chin on his shoulder, His arms around his waist. His mouth on his, the sound of His laugh, the taste of His oversalted congee.

A month. A month of this—

Xiao Xingchen digs the heels of his palms into his empty eye sockets.

He can’t take a month of this.

Or even another night.

He drags himself up onto his knees, digging his fingers into the damp earth.

I forgive you! he cries out with every part of him but his voice. I forgive you! Just stop haunting me!

Nothing.

Nothing—

He sinks back to the forest floor, a single tear trickling from the corner of his eye.

Desperate for the oblivion of sleep, he slows his breathing, focusing on the forest around him. The whisper of the breeze. The burble of a nearby brook as it rushes towards the river. The trill of a nightbird. The rustle of a mouse in the underbrush. He can almost hear the ants swarming up and down a nearby tree trunk—

“You lied.”

Xiao Xingchen opens his nonexistent eyes. The little boy is sitting beside him, staring down at him solemnly.

“You lied just now.” His high thin child’s voice is incongruously world-weary. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not what I need.”

Xiao Xingchen wants to sit up but is afraid of breaking the spell. “What do you want?”

The little boy tilts his head at him. He’s different tonight, somehow. Older, though he looks the same. He’s no longer crying, and there’s an oddly keen look in his sunken black eyes.

“What do you want?” he returns.

A surge of frustration. Xiao Xingchen sits up, meaning to sever the connection, but though he’s upright he’s still in the trance, still trapped by the little boy. The moon should not be full, but an enormous silver globe floats behind the boy, cut through with what must be tree trunks, black against the white, and he can just see the silvery outlines of his own limbs.

“What is that you want?” The little boy’s frail, high-pitched voice is somehow piercing. “What do we all want?”

Xiao Xingchen surrenders. What does it matter if he tells the truth? He’d already laid himself bare in Yi City. There is nothing about him that Xue Yang does not already know.

“To make an impact,” he says. “To make a difference in the world, despite the loss of my eyes. But I can’t, not like this, so all I’ll have left are the atrocities I’ve committed.”

The little boy gazes past him. Blood drips from his bone-pierced hand, as if it has finally begun to bleed, and wells from the cut on his cheek.

“Did I make any impact?” he asks.

A stab of hatred. The memory of Shuanghua piercing flesh. “More than most.”

“On you?”

Xiao Xingchen laughs. “How can you ask that? Look at me!”

The boy’s eyes are sad. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“You lie.” The desperation is back, the overpowering need. “Another lie!”

“Xue Yang,” Xiao Xingchen says aloud, speaking the name like an epithet, and the little boy clutches at his sleeve, staining the white with red.

“That’s not all—I know it isn’t—”

“That’s not all you ever were,” Xiao Xingchen admits, filled with a desperation of his own, a sudden frantic need to rid himself of this specter, to banish it forever, by any means necessary, even the truth. “I—I cared for you once—you made me—happy—”

I cared for you once. He winces as the words leave his mouth, at the words he had never spoken aloud even during their best days in Yi City.

They hang in the air between them, catching the light from the ghostly white moon, quivering and diffident, but solid.

The faint silver light clinging to the boy intensifies as he leans into the words. The glow brightens, brushing his skin with radiance.

Peace fills his face.

“Thank you, daozhang,” he says, and he melts into a shimmering mist.

It’s not sorrow that makes Xiao Xingchen break down. It’s not even relief.

He doesn’t know what it is, except that he’s not strong enough to resist it from overpowering him.

The blood pours from his eyes, soaking his robes, absorbs the red stains left on his arm by Xue Yang’s crushed hand. He cries until there’s no blood left in his body, loud, body-wracking sobs that, for the first time in his life, he does nothing to resist or hide.

The world has changed when he finally looks up.

Silvery light illuminates the forest. The moon is gone, but its glow remains, radiating from the trees, the grass, the soil.

His range of vision expands, encompassing the entire forest, the river, the vast sweep of the mountains and the entirety of the sky.

All is silver. All is singing.

Now, drifting in the space-between, he can sense the thousands upon thousands of spirits wandering the earth, see them burning like blazing beacons of need, waiting for him to come and set them too at peace. He himself is a silvery flame, his bloodied limbs alight with a luminescence born not of spiritual energy, nor of resentful energy, but something in between.

The light becomes bright and brighter, the spirits’ light merging with that of the land, a dazzling white light that fills the emptiness inside him, chases away the shadows filling his chest.

Xiao Xingchen wakes.

* * *

Liked it? Spare a reblog? 👉👈

[lyraparadigm]

Never Have I Ever...One Shots S2 & Beyond

Fanfic on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32770339/chapters/81307000

(More chapters in the link)

 Chapter 1: Never Have I Ever...Done Well In School

It felt good to do well in school. Paxton missed feeling accomplished. Ever since he broke his arm and couldn’t swim, he felt like there was a void in his chest..something he couldn’t quite pin point till this very day. Seeing his classmates clap for him at the end of his extra credit presentation felt good - like a few months ago when he was still on the swim team and breaking records. To top it off, Ojichan was there and now he couldn’t stop praising Paxton at dinner with Mom, Dad and Rebecca. Paxton couldn’t help the dopey grin that overtook his face when Ojichan asked what inspired him to step out of his comfort zone. Devi. He wasn’t gonna say that though.

“I just wanted to go above and beyond in school.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his face still split in a grin. 

Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself and mumbled under his breath, “I wanted to swim to San Diego.”

“Huh?” Rebecca asked, ever observant and Paxton, try as he might, couldn’t keep that damn grin off his face.

“Well, whatever it was, i’m proud of you Paxton. Thank you for convincing me to tell my story. It was the right thing to do.” Ojichan’s admission meant everything to Paxton and as he walked back to the garage after dinner, to play Call of Duty, it struck him that this wasn’t really what he wanted to be doing. 

Without much thought, he grabbed his keys and was on his way to Devi Vishwakumar’s house. The closer her got to her home, the louder he could hear his heart beat. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he felt like he was about to compete at a swim meet, or maybe sit in that Facing History test for the first time again.And then the insecurity set in… what if Devi was still into Ben? But that couldn’t be, right? Ben was with Aneesa and Devi was pretty chill with that. Her crying the other day has nothing to do with Ben. It was to do with her friends and he fixed that…he made her smile… so maybe…He shook himself free of those thoughts as he parked on her street by the fire hydrant so Dr. Vishwakumar wouldn’t be able to see him. He wasn’t gonna make that mistake again. Besides, it was just going to be a quick in and out. He just needed to say thank you to Devi. No need to knock on her door and meet her mom. He was just going to…what, throw rocks at her window? That was cheesy as hell and Paxton didn’t do cheese. 

He licked his lips, frowning as he realised it was raining. How had he not realised this before?!  Well, he was outside her house now…and the longer he dithered, the more soaked he was getting. Grunting, he started climbing the tree outside Devi’s house. He had never done this before. He usually just knocked on the front door or invited the girl around. Damn Paxton, just get a grip.He was on the roof now and her bedroom light was on and she was…she was sat there in these cute pjs that somehow did a great job at outlining her figure despite completely covering her. Her window was open, so he could just climb in… he blinked sheepishly…maybe he should text her before he did that. That’d be the polite thing to do. 

He watched like a total creep as she responded to his ‘what r u doing’ text.‘U want company?’ He had barely finished hitting send before he knocked. She was so goddamn cute - no. He was just here to thank her. Right. He climbed in as she got off her bed and approached him.

“Paxton…”

He breathed out a laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation.

“You’re in my house…” she appeared utterly confused, her brows furrowing adorably.

He laughed, a little shy, a little nervous, “Yeah…I guess so”His palms felt clammy all of a sudden and he could feel every drop of rain seeping into his skin through his shirt. His hair must have been a mess but he was just going to start talking anyway.

“Look I just wanted to say thank you for all your help.” His eyes could help but stray down her form quickly, “It felt so good to finally do something well in school” and he noticed her eyes drift too, though her gaze was far more obvious than his had ever been. And it struck him suddenly. There was never any hiding with Devi. She always just did what she wanted, when she wanted - like that time she propositioned him for sex despite having never spoken to him before, or when she manipulated Mr. Shapiro into giving Paxton a second chance at that Facing history test.So maybe it was time Paxton did what he wanted too.

“So…are you here to study…or….” The anticipation in her voice did things to him. Devi always had a way of looking or talking to him like she couldn’t quite believe he was talking back or looking at her or..well, now he was about to wipe that look off her face.

“No” he shook his head, closing the distance between them, barely giving her a chance to adjust, barely giving himself a chance to change his mind. His hand was in her hair, his gaze flickered down past her nose ring to her lips while he released a slow breath. This was happening. His eyes met hers for a moment before he closed them and leaned forwards, his lips pressing against hers in the softest of kisses that somehow felt different than any other kiss he had given her before. 

And then all bets were off; one hand wedged firmly in her hair, the other rose to grasp her waist as his lips moved sensually over hers and before he realised, he was backing her towards her bed. She didn’t seem opposed to any of it, her own hands gripping his forearms to start with, then grazing his arms before settling on his chest.He crawled on top of her bed, his lips never leaving hers for long as they adjusted so they were lying on their sides, kissing each other languidly. 

Soft kisses, open mouthed kisses, lingering ones, breathy ones…he could spend hours just learning her mouth and all the little hitches in her breath when he switched up the pace, or pressed his tongue against the seem of her lips. Then her leg forced its way between his and his brain short circuited a little. He didn’t think it was intentional, he didn’t really think she realised that her thigh was now pressed firmly against his… she seemed too absorbed in kissing him, her hands wading through his hair, nails scratching his scalp and making him shiver. ‘I don’t kiss guys often, Paxton!’ He remembered her admission weeks ago… for someone inexperienced, she sure was good at making him breathless. And to think he thought this would just be a quick visit. He was careful to not push. His hands stayed at her waist mostly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her lower back. Occasionally his lips would drift to her jaw and kiss the spot below her ear. That drew a breathy sigh out of her that sent a heat wave up his spine. His lips returned to kissing hers, not wanting to get carried away, not wanting to push.

“Paxton?” she mumbled as they parted for breath, noses rubbing against each others. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she asked, “this isn’t a dream right? I’ve not just fallen asleep on my math homework? Am I drooling?”

He chuckled, cheeks blushing a little in embarrassment. There was a lot to unpack here - she dreamed of him apparently and God she was adorable.“This is real”, the words were barely out of his mouth before she lunged the already short distance between them and started kissing him once more. They must have been at it for at least an hour, he surmised, based on how uncomfortably tight his jeans were getting. He rolled onto his back to cool off, grinning dopily at the puppy dog frown on her face. She settled on her back too and they both stared at the ceiling, catching their breath.

“Did you talk to your Mom? You know.. after you saw her in the Maybach”Her brows furrowed again and her fists clenched. It always fascinated him how quickly her temper flared. The first time he took notice of her wasn’t when she asked him for sex, it was when she said something about Nazis killing Ben Gross. He had been surprised a nerd like her had the balls to say something like that in class and get sent to the Principal’s office.

“I just feel like she’s moving on so quick  - it’s not even been a year since my dad died” Devi huffed and Paxton turned to face her. 

He picked up an errant strand of hair and curled it around his finger, “Maybe you should talk to her?”

“I yelled at her already and now I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He nodded. He didn’t know what to say. Devi’s life was intense with a lot more drama than he was used to. He called her crazy once, with her ‘psycho’ drama. He cringed a little at that. It did nothing to ease his hurt when he said it then and it wasn’t doing much else but deepen his guilt now. So instead of saying anything at all, he let his fingers drift from her hair to brush against her nose ring and then against her lips. 

He felt a flutter in his stomach on seeing her anger melt off her face..like he was the only one that could do that… just like when he made her smile after her face was all puffy from crying about Eleanor. ‘Swim to San Diego’ seemed to be echoing in his mind a lot lately, especially whenever he gazed into her eyes. Her eyes. Had they always been this pretty? He grinned at his own thoughts now and it grew further when she matched his smile. He sighed against her lips, unable to keep away for long. His lips hovered against hers, never quite touching, just teasing…till she let out a grunt of frustration, much to his amusement, and reached forwards to mash their lips together. It was clumsy at first and he let out a groan as her teeth nicked his lips but his laughter died down when she snuck her leg between his again and then a different sort of groan left his mouth.

“Devi,” he breathed, pulling away from her and enjoying seeing that dazed look on her face he was so familiar with. His shirt was fully dry now and he figured it was time to stop pushing his luck. He shuddered to think what Dr. Vishwakumar would do if she caught him in her daughter’s bed.

“I’ve gotta go,” he pressed a quick kiss to Devi’s lips and she squeezed his hand in response. Walking to the window and ducking out, he found he was unable to leave without kissing her goodbye.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” he spoke gently against her lips and yep, there it was, that look on her face that made his stomach feel giddy. She looked at him like he had hung the moon and it was hella endearing.It had him grinning all the way back down to her front lawn and to the short walk to his jeep.Yeah this was definitely not a quick visit.Swim to San Diego indeed. 

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

V, my beloved. Can I please get some nice Tango and Etho buddy moment? My heart needs it.

Why yes, yes you can! :D

Summary: A glitch on the server sends Tango into a death loop. Etho rushes to save him before something even worse happens. 

CW: slightly graphic description of death. Nothing too bad but just putting it there in case.

...

  Something is very wrong with the server. Tango can feel it as soon as he jumps into the end portal. There’s something deep down in his code that feels genuinely unsettled by being in the End, and what worries him is that there’s no need for this. He’s been to the End thousands of times, and he’s not even here to do anything particularly stressful like fight the ender dragon. There’s no reason for him to be so scared. 

  As he makes his way towards the end gate, a message comes up on his communicator. 

<Xisuma> Server’s a little glitchy right now guys, be careful not to die, just in case.

  Tango shivers. It must be the glitches that’s causing him to feel so uneasy. Well, no matter: he’s usually very careful anyway. He shouldn’t have to worry about dying. 

  Unfortunately, he looks up at exactly the wrong moment and finds himself looking straight at an enderman. 

  The creature immediately shrieks and charges at him. Tango yelps and scrambles back, dashing to the side. He tries to activate his elytra but server glitches are often unkind to fliers and he can’t get a rocket to fire. When trying again and again yields no results, he decides to take a risk. 

  He jumps off the end island in a place where he knows there is a platform underneath him. If worst comes to worst, he will take a bit of fall damage. 

  Sure enough, his elytra fails again and he falls a few blocks down to the small platform underneath the island. Sighing, he gets to his feet and dusts himself off, momentarily forgetting why he was in such a hurry to fly away in the first place. 

  A shriek sounds from directly behind him.

  He spins sharply round, but it’s too late. 

  The enderman hits him twice in rapid succession, knocking him off the platform. 

  Tango tries desperately to activate his elytra and rockets, but it still doesn’t work. He drops into the void like a stone. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  Sighing, Tango lets himself respawn, expecting to wake up in his bed back in his base. Or if not there, the spawn island. 

  But when he reappears, he finds himself suspended mid-air in the void, nothing as far as his eye could see. He can’t even let out a scream as he falls again, the life getting rapidly sucked out of him just as it had done just seconds before. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  He reappears in the void again. Before he can react, he’s falling again, taking more and more damage until finally…

Tango fell out of the world.

  This time, he manages a few hoarse screams for help as the void takes him for the fourth time. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  He pulls out his communicator and only just manages to type a very quick message before the end comes for him again. 

<Tango> HELP

Tango fell out of the world. 

  He experiences the same excruciating pain over and over again. The agony of having the oxygen sucked from his lungs, of his throat being torn out, of his limbs being bent and snapped, of the pressure building rapidly in his face until his eyes feel like they’re about to explode. All this happens in less than five seconds but it always inevitably ends the same way. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  He falls.

Tango fell out of the world. 

  He hurts. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  He dies. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  And there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

Tango fell out of the world. 

  “I GOT HIM!” 

  It takes Tango a few seconds to realise he isn’t falling anymore. He isn’t hurting or dying. Instead, he’s suspended mid-air. Something is gripping his hand, stopping him from falling. He’s dangling over the void but it no longer has the power to hurt him. 

  “Can you pull him up?!” shouts a familiar voice. 

  “I’m trying! Get over here and help me!” 

  After a moment, a second hand closes over his wrist and he feels himself getting pulled upwards. He has no strength left to try and help, so he just lets himself hang limply. The void has not only taken all his items but every ounce of his energy. 

  Finally, he feels his knee touch something. He’s pulled up onto a solid surface, but the world is still blank in his eyes. Even though he can feel himself kneeling on a proper surface, his eyes cannot see anything except the void. 

  He blinks a few times. Has he gone blind? Or is his mind playing tricks on him? Has he died in the void so many times that he’s gone genuinely insane? 

  “-an you hear me?” One of the voices from before becomes audible in his battered ears. “Tango, say something if you can hear me.”

  Tango’s mouth opens but he can’t get any sound to come out. 

  “Buddy, it’s Etho,” the same voice says soothingly. “You’re safe now, I promise. Can you nod for me to show you can hear me?”

  This he can do. Tango manages a slow nod. 

  “Oh, thank god…” Etho breathes. “X, what’s wrong with him? Why are his eyes like that? Why isn’t he moving? Why can’t he talk?”

  “His code is severely damaged,” says the other voice worriedly. “That death loop’s really done a number on him. I don’t know if he’s fully aware of everything around him but at least we know he can hear us. That’s a good sign. Ask him yes or no questions while I try to repair his code.”

  “O-Okay.” Etho’s voice is shaking audibly. “Tango, can you see me?”

  Tango slowly shakes his head. 

  “Can you see anything?”

  Another head shake. 

  Etho’s next three questions also result in a head shake. Can you talk? Are you in pain? Can you move? 

  “Argh, the other hermits keep messaging me,” mutters Xisuma irritably. “Etho, send them a quick message, will you? Tell them to back off.”

  The hands holding Tango’s disappear. A pause follows this. 

  “Please don’t actually write that, Etho,” Xisuma sighs. “I know how you think.”

  Etho chuckles weakly. “Sorry. I’ll let them know we saved him and we’re working on getting him home.”

  “Thanks.”

  In the ensuing pause, Tango finds between his continuous blinks that the world is starting to swim into view. He can now make out the fuzzy outline of someone sitting in front of him. It must be Etho.

  He opens his mouth again and tries to speak, but his vocal chords are so damaged that all he can manage is a faint gurgling sound. 

  Etho’s hands immediately grasp his again. “I’m still here, buddy. I’m right here. X, can we get him back to the overworld? He can’t be comfy kneeling on hard endstone.” 

  Tango blinks as his vision starts to go black. Exhaustion is threatening to overwhelm him and he actually wants to let it. He’s so tired. Too tired to stay awake. 

  He finds himself sagging against Etho. The last thing he’s aware of before he passes out is the sound of Etho’s heartbeat. 

…

  Tango’s falling again. Pain explodes from his neck, his stomach, his head, his arms, his chest, everywhere. He tries to scream but his voice is ripped away from him and he can see Etho right in front of him but he can’t reach him and Etho can’t hear him and Etho can’t help him and-

  “Tango!” Etho’s voice sounds from somewhere in the distance. “Tango, you gotta wake up!” 

  Tango sits bolt upright with a strangled cry. Seeing the blank world still in front of his vision, he cries and buries his face in his hands, tears flowing from his eyes. 

  He feels someone sit down next to him and wrap their arms around him, gently pulling his head close to their chest. Tango takes deep breaths, letting himself relax as he registers the sound of Etho’s heartbeat. 

  “You’re okay, Tango,” Etho whispers. “You’re safe, I promise. I hope you can hear me.”

  Tango slowly opens his eyes. 

  The blankness is gone.

  He can see the bed below him. And the floor below that. And the walls around him. His vision has finally returned. 

  He slowly pulls away and sits up straight, almost starting to cry again as he gazes into the face of his close friend. 

  “Etho,” he croaks. His voice hasn’t fully returned yet but at least he can speak again. 

  “Hey.” Etho smiles widely and places his hands on Tango’s shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

  “B-Battered.” 

  Etho gives a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, a death loop will do that to you. You gave everyone a massive scare, buddy. Impulse and Zedaph especially. Xisuma had to send them to the mining desert to do some grinding to take their mind off it.” 

  Tango grimaces. “I didn’t mean to. What happened to me? How did you save me?”

  “X and I tracked your death signatures to that spot in the End. I can imagine what it looked like for you but to us, you kept respawning a block or two away from the ledge and then falling again. It took me at least four tries to catch you, so… I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  “No, don’t apologise. You still saved me. Yeah, to my eyes, it was like I respawned in the void and then just died again and again and again. Even when you got me out, I couldn’t see anything except void.”

  “I thought that might be the case,” says Etho, nodding. “Your eyes were all glassy and white. I’ve been in a death loop before and even though it wasn’t a void one, I know how it feels to get your code scrambled up like that. X said he only just managed to salvage everything the void tore up.” 

  Tango shivers. “I could’ve died permanently today, couldn’t I?”

  “...yeah, you could’ve.” Etho gives a reassuring smile. “But you didn’t. And don’t worry, if this ever happens again, I’ll save you.” 

  Tango gazes at Etho. One of the things that sticks out in his mind about when he was plucked out of the void is the way Etho’s voice cracked when he yelled at Xisuma to help him pull Tango up. Tango has never heard Etho’s voice crack like that before. That’s how he knows Etho was truly terrified back there, perhaps terrified at the thought of losing him forever. 

  But he doesn’t bring this up. Instead, he smiles. 

  “Thank you, Etho.”