#and then I wake up today with my throat feeling like the desert

[meownotgood]

bad news: I am very sick right now and these cough drops I have to take every few minutes taste like shit

good news: under the influence chapter two on saturday (probably) (unless I spontaneously get even sicker) (pray for me)

[strwberri-milk]

Three's A Crowd

additional tags: threesome, vaginal sex, oral sex, masturbation, full nelson, double penetration (oral/vaginal) very very mild somno, exhibitionism, wet dreams

Abysswalker x Fem!Reader x God of Tides || Smut || 3 542 words

The desert’s nights are always cold, Rafayel’s body thankfully warm enough to keep you from shivering. You’re glad that he sheds some of his outer layers before laying down with you, feeling the goosebumps along his skin settle only once he holds you. Your face is buried in his neck, Rafayel holding you tightly as he tells you more stories about the fallen nation of Lemuria.

“Your powers…they’re gone then?” you ask him after he recounts the last ascension ceremony for him, eyes flicking down to look at you.

“They’ve been in slumber for thousands of years at this point,” he replies, hand trailing up your back to press your face a little closer to his skin.

“Why? Do you want to see them?”

You deliberate a little, weighing the options in your head.

“I think I’d like to see how powerful you were at the height of Lemuria’s power. I don’t want you to have to live on the run for the rest of your life. I want us to have a life together. To be able to wake up at home without worrying any longer.”

Rafayel chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“My beloved. I already have all those things with you. But, if you want more, I won’t be the one to stop you. If I could give you the world, I would. All you need to do is ask for it.”

His voice is soft, low in his throat. You’re only able to hear him because you’re wrapped up so tightly against him, thick blankets conserving your body heat as your breaths mingle in the shared space.

“I already have it here.”

You can’t help but feel a pang of worry in your chest, his fingers gently resting against where your heart beats. You hope more than anything you could continue to live your days with Rafayel, not worrying about the day where you’d have to lay yourself out for him to take your heart. You wouldn’t mind, not at all. You know you’d go with a smile but you’d always mourn the time you couldn’t have with him.

“It’s yours whenever you want it you know,” you remind him, cupping his face in your hand.

“I could never do something like that to you. Rest now. Stop thinking about such silly things,” he chastises lightly, humming a tune that sounds so vaguely familiar as your eyes drift closed to sleep.

~~~~

When you awake again, you’re in a room that’s not too different than the room you had at the palace in Philos in terms of luxury. The fabrics are much lighter in colour, light silks draped around the room as you lay on a plush bed. Your clothes are different too – nothing as thick as the outfit Rafayel insists you wear for traversing the desert. Instead, they’re light on your body, cool and form fitting.

You look around for Rafayel, unsure of where you are when the door to the room opens. A man walks in, vibrant curls gently framing his face as he looks at you with a smile. Despite the drastic difference of his clothes you’d recognise him anyway, swallowing nervously as you look up at him.

“Rafayel?” you ask, relief filling your chest as he nods.

“My Beloved. You look lovely today, as you always do.”

He makes his way over to you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss. His eyes look different here, softer, somehow. You get the sense that despite being the man you love, he’s not quite right. His body feels familiar to you though, that tightness you get in your chest from looking at him for too long present as he stares intently at you.

Another pair of footsteps walks in, your eyes widening as the Rafayel you’re more familiar with walks in. His dark fabrics seem out of place in the room, leather far too harsh with the pale silks but he seems almost comfortable, a bit of mirth in his eyes as he sees the compromising position you’ve found yourself in.

“There you are. It seems Your Highness has found herself in quite the predicament, hasn’t she?” he teases, coming around behind you on the bed and pulling you against his chest.

You’re sat in his lap, the other Rafayel standing in front of you watching curiously as he spreads your thighs on his lap. You feel him shed some layers behind you, gloved hands slowly trailing up and down your body as you continue to gawk at the man in front of you.

“Don’t be rude,” Rafayel whispers into your ear from behind you. “You are in the presence of a God. Show some reverence Your Highness.”

Your eyes widen in shock as the weight of his words suddenly sink in. The man in front of you – The God of the Sea as now you know him – smirks, coming in to stand between your legs as he cups your chin in his hands.

“How insolent of you. You can’t even recognise the deity that saved your life?” he asks, chuckling at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Perhaps just having you swear your life to me isn’t enough. Just your heart won’t be enough. Should I take my payment another way?”

You look back at Rafayel as he holds you, one of his hands beginning to massage at one of your tits as the other starts to sneak between your legs. You bite back a moan, unsure of what proper decorum would look like when staring at a deity like this, shuddering when you feel him press a kiss to your neck.

“You taste sweet,” he mutters, hands going to hold your hips in place as the Abysswalker teases your entrance with his fingers.

“Yes, a perfect offering for a God. I must have you.”

Adorned hands reach for your clothes, quickly stripping you down to nothing. You feel yourself squirming in his hold, wanting to bury your face in a more familiar body when the God turns your chin to look back at him.

“He’s not here right now. Just focus on me right now.”

He leans in to kiss you, a multitude of thoughts running through your mind. Would your Rafayel consider this cheating? He’s the same person as the one kissing you right now, isn’t he? But he would have stopped you by now if he didn’t want this, wouldn’t he? He must be okay with it if his gloved fingers are circling your clit, gently prodding against your entrance as you gasp into the other’s mouth.

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, tongue gently exploring your mouth as he swallows every noise you make. It’s nothing like the hunger that Abysswalker kisses you with, an absolute starvation about him whenever he gets his hands on you. That desperation is felt against your back, the God pressing you against a hardening cock that makes the man holding you groan.

“You’re so filthy,” he whispers as you’re kissed dumb.

“You’re being kissed by another and yet you’re still desperate for my cock? You’re insatiable, aren’t you Your Highness? I wonder how the court would react knowing their beloved princess just wants to be spread wide and used by Lemurians.”

“I think they’d want to watch,” the God says in reply, pulling back from the addictive sweetness of your lips.

“Wouldn’t you? The human body is so intriguing, especially when caught in the throes of pleasure. Of course they’d want to see such a sweet little toy be broken down by two monsters, pussy leaking cum as more is begged for.”

You think you should be terrified at the filthy words spilling out of his lips but you can’t help but get more excited. Abysswalker makes a sound of displeasure, gloved fingers sliding into your hole as he feels you clench at the thought.

“You’re leaking. Your body is so warm. You want that, don’t you? To be used by the both of us?”

Against your better judgement you nod, gasping when the Rafayel in front of you drops to his knees. He pulls your legs over his shoulders greedily, mouth immediately going to lap at your dripping pussy as the one holding you brings his hands to tease at your nipples.

You already weren’t very experienced – being nobility does that to someone – which always meant that your body felt like it was on fire at the littlest of touches that Rafayel would give you. The two of you were intimate before, him showing you just how good his touch could make you feel. That didn’t help you now, hips bucking furiously into the mouth of a Sea God as a vigilante teased at your nipples, lips sucking dark marks into your skin.

Your pussy convulses over nothing as your feel his tongue swirl around your cunt, sloppy in a way that you didn’t know you needed. It feels like he knows your body better than you do, pushing up against you to angle your hips upwards and give him a better angle to start fucking his tongue into you. The sounds you make just get lewder, wet squelching hitting both of their ears and making their cocks twitch with need.

“That’s – too much –“ you whine, hands going to dig into his violet locks.

“I told you I’d be taking my payment,” he says against you, gently tugging your clit with his teeth.

“You don’t get to decide when I’m done.”

The words almost make you cum, gasping for breath as he dives back in like a man starved. His nails dig into the plush of your thighs, loud slurping and licking making all the hairs on your body stand to attention. Your nipples aren’t better off, tweaked and massaged consistently. The onslaught of stimulation as you cumming in no time, spilling into his waiting mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that though, simply pressing closer against you as you feel Abysswalker push you forward to fit against his hungry mouth better. It makes you squeal, gasping and whining as your body is pushed past its limits, thighs clenching tightly around his head when he abandons them in favour of holding your hips.

“He just wants one more,” you hear whispered into your ear. “Just give us one more and I promise you’ll be rewarded for doing so well,” he promises, giving you just that push you need to cum again, catching your breath as the God stands.

Despite the loose fitting pants he wears you can still see the outline of his cock pressed against it, letting him press it against the plush of your chest as he looks past you to Abysswalker. The two of them speak amongst themselves, Lemurian words still past the majority of your comprehension. You can only make out a few meanings, more distracted by the way his cock grinds against you instinctively as they speak.

Suddenly you feel the weight of your body shift, lifted into the air as the God now holds you. He turns you to face him and you catch the sight of Abysswalker pulling his cock out of his pants, slowly stroking it to the sight of you. You’re now face to face with the God, lips swallowed in a hungry kiss. He turns your body as you feel your pussy being brought down to grind against his cock. You moan into his mouth, arms coming up to hold your legs in place as he slowly starts to sink in. You don’t think you can keep looking at him like this, the muscles in your neck already screaming in complaint but you don’t have time to think about it when he starts to fuck up into you.

Your suddenly realise just how exposed you are, pussy stretched full for Abysswalker’s hungry gaze. He leans back on a palm, hips slowly bucking into his fist as he fucks himself in time to the rhythm of the God. Embarrassment floods your body as you turn to bury your face in his shoulder, the squirming of your hips doing nothing but fucking him deeper inside of you.

“Why are you hiding Your Highness?” you hear from in front of you, the bite of a smirk in his voice.

“It’s nothing I haven’t already seen. Come on. Show off for me some more,” he coaxes, groaning low in his chest as he watches your hips fail to escape the pleasure being provided by the cock drilling into you.

Two pairs of eyes watch your clenching hole intently, watching your cum get fucked out of you from the brutal pace that’s been set. Your tits bounce wildly, balls slapping hard against your clit in a way that makes you whine with each touch. Your head thrashes, body shaking as you feel the God walk closer to Abysswalker, giving him a front row seat to your cute little hole just barely accommodating the stretch of his girth.

Your eyes stay stuck on him, watching as his fist moves faster over his cock. You love the way he sounds, the wet shlick of his fist pumping him only muted by the lewd sounds of your cunt being fucked. His pace speeds up when you’re brought closer to him, chest heaving as he keeps his eyes solely focused on the way your hole tries its best to keep his cock inside of you. Every time his head just barely pokes out of you you’re whining like you’ll die without it, every hit of his cock making soft little noises escape from your lips.

“There you go then. Feast your eyes,” you hear from above you, keening loudly as he somehow manages to adjust his angle to hit deeper inside of you.

The head of his cock brutalises a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, whining his name loudly. Both of them smile at your reaction, bodies working harder to reach their peaks. You can feel it inside of you, the way his cock twitches, the feeling his breath as he tries to keep up with the desperate squirming of your body. It makes you scream, legs pressed tightly against his arms as you cum, the knowledge that youre being watched making you squirt on Abysswalker, your arousal spattering against his chest and dripping down to his cock.

His eyes widen and he pulls his hand off of himself, panting as he wills himself not to cum from the sight. Your orgasm doesn’t deter the God holding you in the least, continuing his rough pace with barely any issues.

“You’re squeezing so tight my Beloved,” he coos, grunting lowly as he feels his orgasm cresting.

“You want me to fill you up? Make you drip my cum?” he asks sweetly, such a cruel contrast to the pounding of your hole.

You nod eagerly, trying to press yourself closer to the base of his cock. He laughs a little at your desperation, peppering your neck in kisses as he delivers a few more hard thrusts. He buries himself to the hilt, breath warm against your temple as you feel him fill you up. The warmth seeps through your body, dripping down his cock as he takes his time sliding out of you.

Abysswalker’s eyes follow the trail of cum dripping out of your slit, hole still clenching as you moan softly from the feeling of no longer being as full as you just were. He happily takes you out of his counterpart’s arms, turning you back around to face the God this time as your knees settle on either side of his lap.

You don’t know what to expect until you feel a gloved hand pushing against the small of your back, gently persuading you to lean more of your weight against his lap. You can’t help but stare at the God’s cock in front of you, still shiny with both your arousals as you feel the urge to run your tongue up the shaft. You bite your lip as you stare up at the God, enraptured by just how beautiful he looks staring down at you.

Your mouth opens as you feel Abysswalker’s cock slide inside of you, him guiding your hips down to his base as the God takes this as his opportunity to slide his dick inside of your mouth. He rests the tip inside of your mouth, shuddering as he feels your moans going down the length of his shaft as your tongue instinctively laps at his leaking slit.

Abysswalker guides your pace on his cock, strong hands bringing you up and down as his hips buck up into you, pushing you down further on the dick inside of your mouth. You look up at the God teary eyed, shallow gags from his length being brought down further your throat making him groan as his hips start to lightly fuck into your mouth.

The feeling of being filled on both sides makes your mind spin, legs thrashing on the bed as you pant and gasp. You’re only given time to breath when the God takes pity on you, drawing his length out of you every so often to trace the shape of your lips with the head of his cock before sliding back down your throat. It’s almost too much but you need it desperately, need them both desperately.

You start to bob your head up and down much to his pleasure. Fingers reach for your scalp, resting against the back of your head as you feel him start to guide your mouth up and down. This, paired with the fingers digging into your hips and you’re practically being used like a doll for both of their pleasure.

The burning in your stomach reaches a fever pitch. You never knew your body could feel so much pleasure, desperate moans of his name cut off by the shoving of his cock back inside of you or a rough thrust into your pussy that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. They can both feel your tightness over their cocks, minds running with even more filthy thoughts about how else they can push you to take even more.

You cum without warning, gagging on the cock in your mouth as Abysswalker spills into you at the same time. The feeling of your moans in addition to your gagging makes the God push himself all the way down your throat. You swallow around him as he cums deep, guttural groans coming from all sides of you.

The two of them savour the feeling of you for a second before finally sliding out, laying you back down on the bed. You think you need to be ready for more, not minding how insatiable they seem as you spread your legs. You hear them both laugh a little, amused as they both crawl over you. Your body stiffens as you prepare but you’re met with their lips peppering against you affectionately. Your limbs are lifted, gently massaged as they shower you in attention, licking at the harsh marks they’ve left on your skin and cleaning you up.

Your eyes close as you savour it, greedily kissing back whoever manages to steal your lips first. The taste of you is still sweet on their tongue, hands reaching out for the two of them as you whine and gasp under them, ready for more when they want you.

~~~~

When your eyes open again you feel the heaving of your chest, pussy warm with Rafayel’s hand cupping you as he stares down at you with an amused smile. He peppers your neck in kisses, nosing against your cheek.

“Well good morning. Did you have a good dream?”

Sunlight streams in through the opening of your tent’s entrance. You can hear the sound of the settlement waking up, conversations soft to avoid waking up any body who happened to still be sleeping. You sigh, making a soft noise as you feel him push up the hem of your shirt to start caressing your body.

“It’s morning?” you ask groggily, throat feeling better than you thought it should considering the rough treatment you were subjected to.

“It is Your Highness,” he says sweetly, hand slipping into your panties as he teases the wetness there.

“You wouldn’t stop moaning my name last night. I wanted to wake you but you looked like you were having such a good dream. Evidently so – I think you came once or twice from nothing.”

You’re embarrassed, flustered by how wet you are. You think he’s right, your panties soaked with arousal from the orgasms you had just from your dream. You divert from the line of questioning by kissing him back hungrily, starving for his touch as your body settles back into that post orgasmic haze induced from what seems to have been your dream.

“Just had a dream about you,” you mumble against his lips, arms circling around his shoulders as you press him closer.

“That’s all.”

He seems sated with that answer for now, rolling on top of you as he reminds you just how ruined you are for him and only him.

[aajjks]

Destiny (m)

synopsis. You can’t say no to him, it’s his birthday after all.

warnings. söft yändērē, sïmp bëhävïöür, öbsëssîvë thoughts, öbsëssïön, hê ïs sö përsüäsïvë, ünhëälthy rëlätïönshïp, yändêrê jk 10x.

note. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MAN I LOVE. please send asks for my jk’s, what do you love the most about jk? I love him, I hope you guys will love this as well, so what’s your answer going to be?

He just loves you so much.

Jungkook knows it’s unhealthy but he doesn’t care. You are everything to him, you’re his reason for everything, you’re the centre of his universe.

He wants to be with you forever, you’re both perfect for each other, God made you for him, and him for you.

Jungkook is a firm believer in destiny and he believes that you’re his destiny.

So that’s why he’s going to make you his tonight, forever.

You are nervous,

When it comes to your boyfriend you’re always tense.

You want to be happy, excited for your date tonight with him but all you feel is nervous, maybe it’s because you’re not sure about how he’s going to react to what you’re about to tell him.

Jungkook was always unpredictable.

As you sit right across him, you feel his eyes on you, you can’t really look at him without looking away, or playing with your nails. Your anxiety is rising through the roof.

Maybe you shouldn’t today, it’s his birthday after all, but it’s really now or never. Your courage is barely enough today, you’ll chicken out the next day.

“Baby? You okay?”

The feeling of his right tattooed hand on yours and his voice pulls you out of your inner dilemma, you blink twice, he looks so happy and beautiful. His eyes are filled with love for you, he looks at you like you’re his whole world.

And that scares you a little.

You nod to jungkook and he squeezes your hand again. “Just thinking about you, kook.” You reply, the night is so calm, the atmosphere is so peaceful yet Jungkook’s eyes don’t let you calm down.

“The food was so delicious right YN???? Also I ordered their top desert too, I hope you’ll enjoy it! I know we have my birthday cake too but I thought you should taste their special too, it’s so tasty I love it.”

“I am so happy I am spending my birthday with you YN.” The man gushes like a teen boy, never leaving your hand, “you know I love you a lot, so much.” He sighs like this is a dream he never wants to wake up from.

“You love me too right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, why does he always ask you this question? His need to be reassured drives you insane sometimes, he knows the answer yet why?

“Of course.”

A huge smiles breaks out from his lips, his eyes crinkle so sweetly, his cheeks are almost red, your boyfriend blushes softly and giggles.

“Then, you’re going to love my surprise YN.”

Your furrow your brows.

“Actually Jungkook I need to tell- no YN. Not now please.” You close your mouth, anxiety rushes through you as you watch him stand up from the table, what is he doing?

You don’t get it, it’s his birthday yet he’s giving you a surprise? 

Your eyes follow his as you watch him walk closer to you and you are too focused on him to utter a word, he looks at you and halts his movement, looking at you with his deep brown orbs.

“B-Babe what are you doing??”

It’s all too quick, he’s on one knee, as he puts his hand into his pocket, and takes out a velvet black box. Your heartbeat is going crazy.

No no no!!!

“JUNGKOOK!- YN. Will you make me the luckiest man alive, will you marry me?”

You can’t breathe, it feels so suffocating suddenly, his words hit you like a brick, ringing repeatedly in your ears. You want to cry.

You didn’t want this, not right now.

You stare at him dumbfounded, your mouth feels too dry to say anything, Jungkook stares back at you with eagerness jumping in his eyes, they are sparkling so much.

You watch as he openes the box, the ring takes your attention away from him, it’s gorgeous, it’s too big.

It looks too expensive.

“YN do you see the ring? I had it custom made, do you see these stones? These are yours and mine birth stones, and the diamond is in the middle of them. Do you like it?”

You stand up, speechless, “J-Jungkook….” He doesn’t move from his position, “please say yes YN. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so much, please fulfill my birthday wish and marry me.”

You feel so helpless right now, he’s making you feel so weak, the look in his eyes is too strong. He loves you so much.

“I’ll make you the happiest woman YN, I’ll always take care of you and love you unconditionally, please baby, marry me.”

Jungkook is quick to grab your hand. “Baby say something, you know you can’t say no, I won’t accept it, say yes, say yes to me.”

this is exactly why you don’t want to marry him.

“I…I…”

“Just one yes YN, I’ll do anything… please marry me.”

[dira333]

Date Nights - Aizawa Shouta

From the Date Night Series - Tagging @alienaiver

Edit: You need to have this visual while reading

1.

“Are you ready to go?”

Shouta looks up from his desk. He’d been so close to resting his head on it, to giving his tired eyes some much-needed rest. 

Your smile is warm and inviting. And it makes something tingle in the back of his brain, something he’d been trying to remember all week.

“Oh no,” he groans softly, “I forgot our date.”

Your smile doesn’t falter.

“I heard about your day from Hizashi,” your voice does not carry any resentment yet his heart is thundering in his chest. 

God, he’d been so anxious about it, had been pondering where to go and what to do for hours, how could he forget?

“Let me just get a coffee real quick and we’ll be good to go,” Shouta insists. He’ll also need at least five minutes in a bathroom and a spare change of clothes. He knows he looks more like a homeless person than anything else right now and he probably smells like it too.

“No need,” you wave him off. His heart stutters to a halt. 

Please don’t cancel, Shouta thinks, just as you reach out and take his hand. Your fingers are warm against his own cold ones, bad circulation be damned.

“I asked you out, so of course I planned the date. Come on, we don’t want to miss anything.”

“But coffee-” He manages, his heart pitter-pattering away as he follows you down the hallways of the school.

They are deserted, thankfully. As much as he loves the feel of your hand in his, he couldn’t bear it if anyone saw. 

Your car is a lime-green monstrosity. You smile sheepishly when he stares at it.

“I like bright colors,” you shrug, “And I’ve never lost my car in a car park since I’ve bought it.”

He can’t argue against that. The seats are soft and he can feel himself slipping, almost falling asleep against the window. When he jerks away, adamant to at least look awake if he’s not looking like much else, he finds your hand resting on his knee. His mouth runs dry. Can he? Is he supposed to? 

He puts his hand on yours and you turn to smile at him before looking back at the road. 

It’s a quiet ride. Somewhere in the organized chaos of his brain, he jots down that you don’t listen to music while you drive. It’s a welcome change from sharing rides with Hizashi.

“We’re here.” You park in front of an apartment complex. “Come on up.”

Your keys jingle in your hand as you walk in front of him, up the stairs and down a hallway. You open the door that has your name on it.

His heart thunders traitorously. Did you bring him to your place for your first date? Why?

His mouth won’t let him form words, so he follows you silently, his mind racing ahead. 

It’s only when he’s slipped out of his shoes and pulled on the bunny slippers you’ve placed for him, that he makes sene of what’s going on. 

In the middle of your living room is a fort of pillows and blankets, big enough to house All Might in his muscle form if he wanted to.

Shouta stops and stares. You do flourish your arms. “Tada! Do you want something to drink first? I thought it was a good idea because you honestly always look like you don’t get enough rest and it’s important to take care of each other’s needs in a relationship and I asked you out so-” 

It’s the first time he’s heard you rambling today and the familiar sound soothes his nerves a little. At least you’re nervous too.

He steps forward, boldened by your own actions, and kisses you.

You sink into it right away, arms thrown around him to pull him even closer.

When you pull back first, he can’t help but chase after you, to sink further into your embrace as you giggle with your face pressed against his neck.

“I’ll make you something to drink, okay?” You whisper, face still hidden away. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He wakes up hours later, throat perched, head in your lap.

You’re reading something on a tablet, one hand free to drag itself through his hair in a motion that could put him back to sleep again.

“So, about a second date…” You ask when you stop at his place in the morning so that he can get a fresh set of clothes before work. You’re not looking at him but your hands are squeezing the steering wheel, telling him how nervous you are.

He leans over and kisses you, pouring all his feelings into the gesture.

“There’s a bookstore in my neighborhood,” he offers, “We could go there after school. Today shouldn’t be as draining and even if, I want to go with you.”

Your smile could light up the world. It certainly lights up his.

-

2.

“Ready to go?” Shouta’s patting himself down as he asks. He’s got his keyes, his pain medication, his phone is fully charged and his wallet’s there too.

You’re still on the Couch, petting Muffin. The old tabby is purring so loud he can hear it from the entryway. 

“For what?” You ask, a little distracted by Muffin trying to chew on your fingertips.

“We’ve got a Date, honey. Why did you think Deku picked up Eri?”

“Because he wants to spend time with her?” You pull Muffin from your lap and deposit her on a pillow, kissing her head when she mews.

You yawn as you walk over, don’t cover your mouth in favor of brushing the pet hair from your legs.

“What kind of date?” You ask as you pull close and kiss him, snuggle into his embrace.

“There’s this new Bookshop a few blocks down. I walked past it a few times when I went to the park with Eri and it looked promising.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows. “How do I not know about it? I’ve never seen one when I go to the park with her.”

“That’s because we take a different route. More cats, less foot traffic.” He kisses your cheek and pushes you toward the bedroom. 

“Five minutes, you need a different sweater. I won’t go out with you looking like this.”

You stick your tongue out at him, but comply. 

When you come back, he can’t help the laugh bubbling in his throat. You’re wearing a Ganriki Neko sweater in purple and turquoise over a purple skirt and turquoise tights, an outfit he’s seen last at one of Hizashi’s costume parties.

“How do I look?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Like I need sunglasses to take you in,” He jokes.

The walk to the bookstore is short and quiet. You’ve been distracted lately, 

Maybe it’s the new Class you’ve got or Eri’s recurring nightmares, but he’d been planning a date like this for a while now. Taking a break just hasn’t gotten easier now that they’re parents.

“Pspsps,” He leans down to feed a snack to the little black kitten that Eri has fallen in love with. It’s well groomed and clearly belongs to someone, but it loves coming over to say hi.

-

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Shouta declares the moment you step into the store. It’s lovely, not entirely rebuilt, but rather renovated, giving the old, darkened wood some new life. 

You nod and wander around, peeking at the shelves in search of something that tickles your interest. He finds you in the non-fiction aisle not much later, deeply invested in a cookbook.

“This has everything,” you explain. “How to eat during your pregnancy or if you want to increase the chances as well as how to feed children of different ages.”

“Okay? How are the recipes though? We’ve got plenty of cookbooks at home we don’t use.”

“True,” you grumble. It’s your least favorite thing about him, how he tends to stop you from impulse buying. He offers you your drink before you can dwell on that any longer.

“For you, sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Har Har.” You mock laugh before taking a sip of the concoction, furrowing your brows a little. “It tastes a little off,” you claim. “Did you ask for something from the menu?”

“No, I gave them your special recipe. Sorry, do you want something different?”

“No, it’s fine. They probably made it for the first time this way.” You take another sip and your brows relax. “I’m just a little weird today.”

“I’m a little weird everyday,” he offers and you lean into him, heavy, warm and familiar.

“Let’s take a look around, shall we?” He grabs your free hand with his, swings them around as he pulls you forward. There’s plenty to see and soon enough, his arms grow loaded with books. The newest edition of the manga Hitoshi reads, a signed biography of a Hero Hizashi’s still very enthusiastic about, bookmarks and a little Neko Nightlight for Eri, the list goes on.

“I need to sit down for a bit,” Shouta exclaims when you turn back towards the non-fiction again. “You can find me at the children’s books.”

“Okay.” You get on your tiptoes and kiss his stubble. “I won’t take long.”

-

Shouta’s halfway through a book about a little mole looking for a home when you come back. He’s accustomed to the sound of your footsteps, even if they come a little more hesitant, like now.

You’ve got one book in your arms, the title hidden as it’s pressed against your stomach. 

There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn it around to show him the cover.

“How to be Pregnant for Dummies.”

He reads it and reads it again. The news take a moment to seep into his brain but when it does, he almost takes down the book display with how fast he jumps from his seat.

“No way!” 

“SHHH!” Someone shushes him from the front. Shouta doesn’t care.

You’re smiling, eyes a little teary.

“Since when do you know?”

“I got the results today, but I missed my period so I’ve had a hunch for a week or so. It’s still pretty early.” You giggle when he peppers kisses all over your face, making it almost impossible for you to keep talking.

“Sorry, I was a little bit in my head the last few days.”

“It’s okay. It’s big news.”

“Hm. How do we tell Eri? And Hitoshi? And-”

Shouta turns around and pulls a book from the pile he wants to buy.

“Little Neko got a sibling?” You ask, a little dumbfounded. “How did you know?”

His smile is a little sheepish. He can never lie to you.

“I didn’t. But the Neko was cute.”

You laugh at that, pull him closer. It reminds him of their first second date. 

Of cuddling in a corner at the bookstore, away from prying eyes.

Some things will never change, even with a metal leg and a new life on the way.

-

“Where do you wanna go next?” He asks when the books are paid for, hanging off his right arm as you lean onto his left.

You blink up at him, eyes still a little red-rimmed from all the happy tears.

“When’s Eri coming home?”

“Two hours, maybe. Do you wanna go home and cuddle?”

You ponder that for a second, your hands warm on his. 

“Let’s get ice cream,” you decide, a wide smile on your face. “And when we get back, we can make a fort!”

Shouta pulls you close, presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“Mhm,” You grin up at him. “I love you more.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[storiesofsvu]

Common Cold

Olivia Benson x reader warnings: minor language, that's about it. I did not read through this or edit it, so... not my fault if there's mistakes or its terrible LOL.

Olivia was pouring her coffee in the kitchen when she heard the small cough from around the corner of the hallway, glancing up in your direction as you rounded the bend.

“You coming down with something?”

“No.” You nearly shot her a glare, “my throat’s just drier than the desert.” You stepped up to the cupboard, pulling down a mug and shifted to the coffee machine only for Liv’s hand to wrap around your wrist, redirecting you to the fridge.

“You might want to hydrate first.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, pulling the Brita pitcher out of the fridge to fill the mug up, feeling Olivia’s eyes on you as you drained it in one go, filling it up again.

“I was gonna stop at the bodega for breakfast, unless you want something different?”

“I’m not really hungry.” You replied with a soft sigh and she raised a brow at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner last night either, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Just a tickle in my throat.” You waved her off, slowly sipping your way through the second mug of water, “Carisi always has extra of that emergen-c stuff, I’m sure I can steal some, kick the ass of whatever this is before it has a chance to sneak in.”

“Alright.” Olivia surrendered, pulling you to her to press a kiss to your temple, “you let me know if you start feeling worse and need to come home early.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted, pulling down a travel mug from the cupboard to fill it with coffee, glancing up at your girlfriend for approval that she gave in the tiniest nod before you added sugar and cream and followed her out the apartment door.

By lunch time, vitamins weren’t the only thing you’d stolen from Carisi, his Fordham hoodie wrapped tightly around your frame as you shivered at your desk. Olivia was on the way back from the break room, glancing up across the bull pen to see you tugging the hood of the sweater over your head before returning your attention to your laptop. With a gentle sigh she wandered over to your desk, placing down half her sandwich.

“Have something to eat, you’ll feel better.”

“Still not hungry.” You replied with a yawn, running your hands over your face, rubbing at your eyes the best you could without ruining your make up.

“Sweetheart…” she perched on the side of your desk, “no offence but you look like hell.” Her hand snuck under the hood, smoothing back a few pieces of your hair. “Are you sure you don’t need to go home?”

“I just didn’t sleep well last night.” You yawned again, trying to keep this one contained.

“Yeah, cause you were up all night coughing.” Liv pointed out and you pouted, “and it’s nowhere near cold enough in here for that hoodie, it’s June…”

“Guess I’m just running cold today.”

“Let me take you home.” She rubbed at your shoulder, “get you some rest.”

“M’fine.” You protested, a small cough rumbling through your throat, “can’t have you taking off in the middle of the day.”

“Alright, meet me halfway then.” She slid off your desk, “I’ve got some Buckley’s in my desk, you take some of that, and go sleep it off in the crib. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”

“Fine.” You whined, pushing back from your desk as you followed her into her office, surprised when she followed you to the bunk room. She’d grabbed a couple of comfier blankets from her office, tucking them around you as you curled up on one of the beds, her hand coming to rest on your forehead.

“You really are burning up. If this doesn’t help I’m taking you home, understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.” You half teased back, yawning again as you nuzzled into the pillow, pulling the blankets and Carisi’s hoodie tighter around you.

“Get some sleep sweet girl.” Liv murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss into your forehead before she moved from the room, flicking off the light to hopefully give you a restful nap.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out; you just felt the bed dip with Olivia’s weight, a cool hand resting on your forehead and stroking your cheek. You groaned, slowly rolling onto your back as you attempted to stretch out your aching body.

“How are you feeling?” Olivia asked softly and you coughed in return.

“Sweaty.” You grimaced, “thirsty…sore…”

“Ready to admit defeat and let me take you home and properly take care of you?” She asked with a soft grin on her cheeks and you looked up at her and nodded. “Alright, c’mon.”

The entire trip home was honestly a blur, you could barely keep your eyes open, your head resting against the cool glass of the car window. Your body was burning, but you were shivering at the same time, your head throbbing and your throat on fire. Olivia’s hand was resting on your thigh, squeezing softly in assurance that you were almost home.

Back in the apartment she helped you change into comfier clothes, chuckling at the way you pulled Carisi’s hoodie back on, claiming it was fuzzier than any of yours. She sat you down on the couch, taking a make up wipe from the packet and cleaning your face before she urged you to bundle up in as many blankets as you wanted.

Your eyes fluttered shut, listening to her pad around the apartment while she collected whatever she deemed necessary. A few minutes later and she was perching on the edge of the couch, her hand soothing up your side, “sit up for me, take these.”

Groaning as you did so, your eyes cracked open, taking the pills from her and swallowing them down with the help of the large glass of water she’d brought you. She left the bottle along with the Buckley’s on the end table, the water on the coffee table so it was more accessible.

“That should help break the fever, help with your head. Try to get some more sleep and I’m gonna make you some soup for dinner, you need to eat, alright?”

You nodded bleakly, dropping back down onto the couch and Liv leaned over you, squeezing you gently and kissing the top of your head. You shivered slightly when she moved away, her body heat vanishing and she tucked another blanket around you in hopes that it would help.

Being as quiet as she could, she looked into the fridge, pulling out what she’d need for some semi homemade chicken noodle soup and was forever thankful for the leftover rotisserie chicken from last night. Vegetables were chopped up and then placed in the pot to sauté along with some garlic and she preheated the oven for some Pilsbury flaky rolls to go along with it, popping the tray in once it was ready. Broth got added to the pot, seasoned appropriately and once it was boiling and the delicious smells were wafting through the apartment she added in the noodles. Glancing over her shoulder she found that you were still dead to the world, curled around yourself on the couch snoring softly and she couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you were at least on your way to feeling better.

While she was waiting for everything to fully cook she opened the tea cabinet, searching through the boxes until she found the one she thought you would like the best that had the best benefits to helping a cold. She flicked on the kettle and pulled down a mug for you before picking a wine for herself and poured out a glass, taking a sip of it as she waited for the timer to go off. The soup finished first and she pulled it off the burner, tossing in the chicken, knowing it would heat fine as everything kept cooking, placing the lid on the pot to keep it going. A couple of minutes later and the rolls were being pulled from the oven and she was pouring out your mug of tea.

Behind her she heard a quiet groan, a shuffling of blankets and the slow padding of your footsteps as you paused in the kitchen.

“Smells amazing.” You commented, your voice hoarse.

“Well I couldn’t exactly let you go empty handed now, could I?” She asked with a smile, stepping towards you to cup your cheek, kissing your forehead. “Surprised you’re up already.”

“Have to pee.” You yawned, “but I was out long enough to start feeling better.”

“Good.” She pecked your cheek, “hopefully this is only a twenty four hour thing then.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded before disappearing down the hallway.

You stopped in the kitchen on the way back, offering to help and she simply shooed you away, telling you to get comfortable on the couch while she took care of things. First she refilled your water, making sure it was cold and crisp, then she brought over your mug of tea, followed by a steaming bowl of soup with a bun on the side. Finally she joined you on the couch with her own dinner and wine, settling in beside you.

“What’d you want to watch?” She asked, smoothing your hair back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Grey’s.” You mumbled back, blowing on your tea to cool it off before taking a sip.

“Alright.” She replied with a smile, picking up the remote to figure out where you’d last left off on your favourite binge. She watched you curiously for a moment as you tried to navigate the bowl of soup without using the table or pulling both your arms out from under the blanket, “you need a hand?”

“I dunno how I’m supposed to do this without spilling it everywhere.” You whined and she chuckled.

“Here.” She reached for the bowl, “settle in however you want. I’ll hold the bowl; can you handle the spoon?” She asked with a tease and you scowled in her direction.

“I’d be mad at you if you hadn’t made me dinner.” You grumbled, coughing a couple of times before you finally managed to get comfortable and could start eating your soup.

Olivia was happy to see you finish the bowl completely, using the roll to soak up the remnants of the broth before she placed it back on the coffee table. She readjusted slightly, her arm coming to rest on the back of the couch, her heart warming as you immediately dropped into her side. Your head came to rest on her chest, her hand automatically going to your hair, softly playing with it as you curled around her.

“Thank you.” You murmured softly, letting out a little yawn as you refocused on the tv.

“Of course sweet girl.” She replied, kissing the top of your head, “whatever you want, you get. You know how much I hate to see you sick; you’ll feel better soon.”

“Promise?”

“I do.” She laid a kiss on your hair, her hand soothing up and down your back, “don’t fight the sleep alright, you’ve seen this show a million times, you already know what happens.”

“Alright, alright.” You didn’t have any energy left to even try and fight with her, your eyes fluttering shut as the strum of her heart lulled you to sleep.

Olivia had said it herself already, it didn’t matter what she had to give up, or how much extra work she had to do, she would do whatever it was you needed to make sure that you were happy and healthy. She loved you; she loved taking care of you and more importantly she loved seeing you shine and you couldn’t do that when you were sick.  She would happily sacrifice an afternoon at work, a dinner out on the town if it meant making sure you knew you were loved.

Even if that meant you passed on whatever bug you had to her three days later and the entire process began again but from the other side.  

______________________

@red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @lesbianspacecowboy @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @venablemayfairgoode @whimsicallymad @oliviaswifey @alexusonfire @screenee @mysticfalls01 @beccabarba @littlegaybabe @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @molllss @wosoimagines @brienneseveruscalawayfanfiction @solemnnova @infernumlilith @yourtaletotell @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @wandas-wife @emskisworld @newyorker14 @lawandorderuswnt @wandasbrat @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @sia2raw @ladysc @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @momlifebehard @holycrapraewth @alexxavicry @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @temp0rary-bliss @prentiss-theorem

[prismaticpichu]

I'm craving a concept only you can deliver: Sephiroth comforting Zack during a personal crisis? What would that be like?

YESSS MY BEANS!!!! <333 I adore these kinds of scenarios with them 💙💚 You’ve come to the right place, my un-rotten friend! I shall do my best! <33

~

It happened on Angeal’s birthday.

Crumpled on the floor; fists clenched into veiny, trembling balls of cement; thin pillars of candlelight quivering and flickering against the apartment’s gloom, deserted atop the vanilla terrain of an abandoned birthday cake as, like a feather, left to the mercy of even the slightest gust of wind, too weightless to resist the current, their fragile flames bent to the mercy of wherever the wintry draft whispering through the apartment pulled them.

This was the state Sephiroth found Zack in.

At first, he almost left. Sincerely (and he had trouble lying), that was what he wanted to do. Leave the document, leave a pen, leave a note explaining that it required his signature—and then leave without saying a word. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to do just that. Go, leave, you don’t know what to do… And when he stayed, when he didn’t budge, the reins tugged harder: GO… now! Leave! You don’t know what to say…!

And it was true: he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what in that moment, standing in an ajar door, cracked open only a fissure, cracked open only after three unanswered knocks, watching his lieutenant sob unrhytmically into his knees, what he could possibly do. Zack didn’t even seem to notice his presence—oblivious to the gauzy belt of light stretching across the apartment, unaware of the two conflicted emeralds peering inconspicuously into his darkened quarters. And the sheer frequency of his rattling breath masked any groan or creak that his weight against the door would produce.

Yet…

For every tug and lash of the reins in his mind, demanding him to go there was an anchor thrown over the hulls of his heart and keeping him rooted in place. Don’t go, don’t leave… And as he tried to uncomfortably wriggle out of its grasp, it would beat louder in his chest: Don’t leave him… Please, don’t go. Don’t abandon him. Don’t you understand why he is hurting…?

The man’s eyes had seemed to flicker.

Oh… he understood. He understood good and well. He, too, had also felt a toxically-stifling cloud billow in the wake of his thoughts throughout the day. From the moment he woke up, he knew what day it was. Angeal would be turning 26 today. Had he still been with him, he would have added another year to his life, another block of wisdom to stack atop the castle of what seemed to be the spirit of an elderly father encased inside the bones of a young adult. He would have been here to celebrate that growth. He would have been here to honor himself.

Admittedly, it hadn’t occurred to him how Zack may be feeling. Perhaps that was because he had swallowed every last bit of pain today like a gallon of vinegar—or maybe it was because he had blindly assumed that Zack would be finding a way to resist the same acid. Clearly, he had tried to do something to cope with it. Only it was just as clear that he ended up buckling under the leaden pressure that had been building throughout the day—and now he had cracked, imploded, left broken and bent on the cold hard floor of his home away fro—

“Monster…”

And it was that word, choked viscously from the depths of Zack’s throat, cold and hard as the floor he lay crumbled upon, that made Sephiroth stay.

He pushed open the door, golden light dilating across the room.

“��Zack?”

The First’s head shot up from his knees—blue eyes sleek and wet with a boil of burning tears, swollen cheeks vaguely catching the light like tiny stones glistening against shallow water, the Mako-fueled gems narrowing slightly yet unclear if it was out of annoyance or surprise or an attempt to see better amid the darkness.

Sephiroth took a step closer.

“What are you doing here?” Zack bit out then.

Sharp, serrated, rancorous.

Sephiroth didn’t move any closer.

“…You’re upset,” he observed. Stated, more like—considering the sheer lack of emotion he managed to gouge of the two simple words, as if a straight and businesslike approach was the only compromise his mind could compromise for intervening.

Immediately, Zack wiped at his eyes.

“…Yeah?” His response was just as emotionless. “What about it?”

Cold, bitter, and edging on venomous. The tone admittedly stung Sephiroth—pierced something in his heart that he didn’t know was there, like an inconspicuous crack in the mortar where a tender swathe of his heart was beating. He knew the boy was upset; he wasn’t that blind, nor was he that ignorant. But it was hurtful nonetheless. Their last interactions didn’t seem to have this poison—unless, of course, it had been festering underneath, had been hiding under his tongue as he warmly saluted goodbye on that warm Junon evening by the dock.

I’ll hold you to that!

All again, Sephiroth’s eyes seemed to flicker.

“…I know you miss him, Zack,” he said, attempting to defrost as much cold professionalism from his voice as he could. “I know it’s—“

Whatever he said, it was the wrong thing.

Zack’s eyes began boiling with tears once more. Only this time, the mist seemed to be daggerous—acidic, sharp, spearlike—and there was no ambiguity anymore as to what the narrowing of his bloodshot eyes signified.

And he erupted.

“GET OUT!” Zack’s voice exploded around the den like a deadly, roaring echo. “GET OUT!”

Sephiroth took several steps back.

“Zack…—“

“I SAID GET OUT!” He threw his arm toward the door in jagged emphasis.

“Zackary.”

“SHUT UP AND GET THE HELL OUT!”

He had never seen Zack in such a state. By all means, he knew the young First wasn’t as happy and cheerful as he masqueraded for the rest of the world to see. That much he knew, that much he had learned, as someone who wore an oppositely-temperatured mask himself. But that didn’t make the degree of his SOLDIER’s temper right now any less unsettling. It didn’t make it any less painful.

It didn’t make it any less concerning.

And maybe that was why, against the boy’s blazing demand for him to leave, Sephiroth chose to stay.

“…You’re upset, Zack…” he stated again, only his voice had completely thawed. Softening his eyes, steeling his resolve, the man took another step forward. “You’re upset. You’re grieving. I know how you—“

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT!” Zack’s throat was beginning to close as he bellowed. And then, as if having suppressed the poison for so long: “You weren’t THERE, were you?! No! I don’t THINK SO! I was THERE, Sephiroth! I had to DO IT! Do you know that? Do you know that’s why he’s DEAD! It’s because of ME! ME, DAMNIT! I killed him! I… I killed him. Oh Gaia… Oh Gaia… I did it… oh man… I did it… I killed him, Sephiroth… I killed him…”

And then he was crumpling back to the floor, his voice slowly trickling away like tendrils of smoke from an inferno.

“I’m… I’ma monster…”

Sephiroth watched the broken SOLDIER, his mouth hanging ajar. Hardly even breathing. His chest was twisted at such an angle that he was certain he would snap at any moment, like a feeble twig, his lungs on the verge of imploding in on themselves and shutting down the entirety of his shock-drugged body. Swells of different emotions were raging inside him at such a speed him that, like roaring rapids during a storm, flowed too fast and viciously for him to grasp and even begin to digest. If all simply crashed against him, tumultuous and unrelenting. Almost suffocating. Paralyzing.

He was numb.

The only thing to stay afloat, echoing clearly in his ears, as if it was the only thing his mind could seem to hear, as if it was louder than anything else despite being the softest thing mumbled, was the same unyielding word that had drawn him into the apartment to begin with. Raw and cold, but no longer venomous—as if the poison had been wrung out of it, leaving only a deadly and poised blade behind, and was now balancing under Zack’s chin, the spear digging into his pulse and aimed only to harm himself.

Even in his numb and drugged state, it drove him to speak again.

“No…” Sephiroth vaguely shook his head, his voice edging on a whisper. “That’s not true.”

Slowly, Zack lifted his chin once more, the shadows of torrents now glistening on his reddened cheeks. His incision shone bright in their wake, shimmering in a rich and ghostly red—still to heal, still raw, and probably burning like acid into the deepest layers of his skin.

It made Sephiroth’s chest snap.

Gingerly, as if there was glass strewn about the floor, Sephiroth took another delicate step forward. He then took another step after that, and then another step after that, gradually closing the distance between them until only a tiny creek of wooden floor separated them. His shadow looming over the distraught teen, he carefully bent down until he their gazes were level: green eyes staring into blue, glistening sapphires mirroring the small shimmers of light radiating from the tame, softened emeralds.

And Sephiroth spoke again.

“You are not a monster…” The man’s voice had turned to porcelain, gazing deeply into those anguished azure eyes. “Don’t ever say that. Zack.”

A snuffle, a choke, and a thin trickle of tears bled through Zack’s eyes as he strained them shut.

“…You weren’t even there,” he whispered. “You don’t know what happened.”

There was a moment, a lull, where Sephiroth questioned it he should say what he wanted to say next. His lips briefly hovered, floating in the painful purgatory of uncertainty and obligation. Of righteousness and potential regret. Of fear and endangered friendship.

But just like the candles, bent only by a single wintry draft, a single pained beat of his heart opened them wide enough to speak.

“Then tell me.”

Silence, then Zack let out another choke.

“…I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll hate me.”

“No… no I won’t.”

“Yes you will! You would want me dead.”

“Don’t ever say that.”

“You will though… You’re gonna hate me…” He sucked in his breath, choked again, lowering his chin back into his knees. “I don’t want you to hate me…”

Never had Sephiroth’s chest ached so fiercely.

“Zack…. Zackary. Look at me. Please.”

It took a beat, a strained one, but Zack eventually did.

And Sephiroth held him steady in his gaze.

“You are all I have left, Zack. You are my… last friend. My only friend. So, please… believe me. There is nothing that will ever make me hate you. Nothing at all.”

He reached out then, hesitant, but not enough to stop him from gripping his teary friend’s shoulder.

He squeezed.

“It’s alright…” Sephiroth said gently, delicately. “Tell me what happened.”

And so Zack did. Every detail, every cry and shout and plea for his mentor to stop the madness—he retold it all. He told of finding Angeal in the bathhouse; he told of the brief swell of hope he felt; he told of how the hope was violently extinguished; he told of the way their cherished friend mutated, how he was forced to fight him, how he was forced to take the blade and stab it through the beast’s heart after it nearly tore his face agape; he told of crumbling on the ground after the deed was done, looking over his mentor’s blooded face, reverted back to a human, and just how monstrous he himself had felt.

By the time Zack was done, the dam had completely splintered, and he was leaning so far that he was on the verge of the falling over.

So, when he did, Sephiroth caught him.

He wrapped his arms around the boy as Zack collapsed into him, pulling Zack close against his chest and letting him cry. Letting him cry, letting him grieve, he held him steady, like an anchor rooting him to the ground, trying his best not to move as Zack rattled and quaked and lifted his own arms to wrap around him in turn, resting him chin against the bed of harmless spikes, holding him close, and then holding him even closer.

“Gaia… I killed him…”

“Shhh… He didn’t give you a choice.”

“He would be here, Seph… he would—“

“He left long ago, Zack. You know that.”

“I know… I…”

“It’s alright…. Shhh. It’s alright.”

“I—I miss him, Seph…”

“I know you do. I do too.”

And they stayed like that, side by side, in each other’s arms, until the candles on the cake went out.

[dustofthedailylife]

"There Are A Million Reasons To Be Happy - But You Are Mine."

Alhaitham x (gn!)Reader tags// angst, very bittersweet, no comfort, mentions of death

A/N: Short drabble that I needed to get out of my system sjdklsjkf. I do not take any responsibility for any possible emotional damage this may cause btw... *cough*

You never thought the day you'd lose Alhaitham forever would come so soon. Not when you had still planned to do so much together. Not when you still had your entire life ahead of you.

But then that fatal accident happened no one could have possibly foreseen.

Never in a million years did you think that Alhaitham would be taken from you in such a cruel way. Never did you expect you'd wish him a nice day in the morning and would never be able to hear his voice again after.

Now you were sitting on the cold stone floor of his office in your shared home seeking comfort in flipping through the pages of his favorite books.

Your throat too coarse to scream anymore, your body too weak to spill more tears. Numbness was the only thing left inside your hollow heart.

The spines and pages of the books before you were worn down by the excessive use they had found on a daily basis. And yet they felt familiar - comforting.

Little notes on some pages, bookmarks stuck in between others that made you feel like he was still with you. Made you feel like he was about to come home and would continue reading where he left off the day prior.

They felt like a little piece of him that was proof that he existed. That he was once part of your life.

And then you found the book in the drawer of his desk. It was a small olive-green leather book titled "Reasons To Be Happy". You had never seen it before yet it felt like it contained a key part of him.

You picked it up with shaky hands and began flipping through the pages. But soon your vision became blurred. Tears, you no longer knew you were able to spill, pooled in your eyes and left wet streaks in their wake as they cascaded down your face once more. Because as soon as you realized what the contents of the little book in your hands were, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

It contained a compendium of handwritten entries dating all the way back to the day you and Alhaitham met.

Everything you had done since that had filled him with joy, every trip and memory that had made him smile, no matter how minuscule they might've seemed to you - they were in here, recorded forever.

"You kissed my forehead and draped a blanket over me when you thought I fell asleep on the sofa." "You gifted me the book I briefly mentioned I wanted." "We went on a trip to a desert oasis together today. You're the reason I find enjoyment in even the most desolate places." "You were surprised you got the job you applied for, but I always knew you would. Your beaming smile that day made me fall in love all over again."

And the title page read: "There are a million reasons to be happy and a million things to find happiness in - but you are mine."

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin, HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me!

[sednonamoris]

pony up

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John and Abigail continue to argue. You and Jack are both stuck in the middle, so you make the best of it by teaching him to ride.

Warnings: Toxic relationships, arguing, strong language

Word count: 1,464

A/N: Two chapters in one day - PHEW!! I have to say I’m pretty pleased with how this one turned out. If you didn’t catch my earlier post there will be a bit of a break between today’s updates and Ch. 15 so I can take a moment to read and rest and make sure the coming chapters are as good as they can possibly be. I feel like a broken record saying this but thank you all so much for your support!!!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

You take to the Heartlands like you were born to endless green and not the cracked desert of your youth. Valentine makes boasts of civilization, despite Hosea’s stance on its mud and morons, but the wilderness that surrounds it is what captivates you. Sprawling and wild. Half-tamed and raw. Unbroken. The chirping cry of the eagle and mournful bugle of the elk command a symphony in your soul that begs to be set free. Each night your heart stampedes the open plains with the wild horses, and each morning it returns when the songbirds first sing. 

Then the fighting starts.

“You ‘n me is one thing, but you could at least show up for the boy!” Abigail says this morning. 

“Jesus, woman, quit naggin’ me!” John snipes back. He’s supposed to meet you to go fishing. You have a feeling that might not happen.

“I ain’t naggin’! If you would just—”

“I don’t have time for this. Ghost and I—”

“I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word about Ghost!” she all but screams. You flinch, even over by the hitching posts as you are. “What about me, John? What about our son?”

John’s eyes go hard. “What about you?”

It’s a low blow, even for him, and the backhanded slap that hits his face a moment later is no great surprise to anyone.

What is surprising is that when Abigail marches away, she marches toward you. You shift a little in place but don’t run, much as you’d like to. She points an accusing finger and doesn’t stop until it jams into your chest.

“You—” she chokes past the tears in her eyes, but when she sees the look in yours she can’t finish the sentence.

Because what is there to say, really? That she would kill for John to spend as much time with her as he does with you? That she wishes he would wait out for her when she goes into town, or comes back from the creek with baskets full of laundry that he’ll help her carry home? You know that already. The same as she knows, deep down, that you’d give anything for him to look at you with that same want in his eyes when he sees her. To have him come to your bed every night and wake together every morning. And isn’t it just sad? And aren’t you just fools?

“You watch out for him out there,” she finishes lamely, and you grasp her hand that’s still on your chest and squeeze the apology that’s lodged in your throat. 

“Sure, Abigail. Take care.”

You let her go and she walks away, glaring at anyone who dares stare. John doesn’t say a word when you hand him his reins and head down to the river. 

— 

Days later, you’re sitting next to the fire enjoying a morning smoke with coffee strong enough to feel in your teeth. Pale, pre-dawn yellow streaks a sky marred only by your curling whisps of smoke. For once it is blessedly, blissfully quiet.

“Morning!” a bright voice chirps. 

You close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath before turning to snarl at them, only to be met with an unexpected face.

“Jack,” you say, trying not to sound surprised. Or mean. “Where’s your ma?”

It’s not that you dislike the kid, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to steer clear of him most of the time. Just seems better that way.

“She’s at the river. Reverend is supposed to play with me but he’s sleeping again.”

Fuck. Of course he is.

You look around to see if someone - anyone - is around who can watch him instead, but most folks have already headed into town, and the girls are surely with Abigail doing the washing at the river. Fuck. 

“Well, hey,” you fumble, “why don’t you ‘n me do somethin’ while we wait for him to wake up?”

“Really?” He sounds so excited. It breaks your heart a little.

“Really.” 

You’d been planning to ride out, maybe find a horse to fence, but instead you while away the morning playing every game imaginable with little Jack. He’s way too smart for you, listing off the wildest names you never heard of while you play pretend. You’re Penelope. Telemachus. Charybdis. He always gets to be Odysseus, who must be the hero. Then he wants to go hunting for bugs, so you dutifully lift rocks only for him to squeal when centipedes and beetles come creepy-crawling with all of their legs and pinchy parts. Then he tells you it’s your turn to pick something. You try to wrack your brain, but the only thing you can think to ask is if he knows how to ride on his own yet.

You smile when he says no.

“About time you learned, then.”

With a sweet chestnut Morgan who sometimes packs for you on hunting trips as a model, you take your time explaining how important it is to take proper care of your horse. How to brush with the grain of the hair. What every piece of tack does. You thought he might get bored, but the kid absorbs information like a sponge. He asks question after question, until finally he hits you with one you aren’t expecting. 

“Why are you called Ghost? Aren’t ghosts scary?”

“What,” you say, “I ain’t scary enough for you?”

He suddenly looks nervous, so you smile and ruffle his hair. 

“Relax, kid. I only scare bad guys and little shits who don’t mind their ma.”

“What’s a ‘little shit’?” 

You raise a brow at him. “Take a guess.”

He laughs. 

There’s just enough room at the edge of camp for you to work in, so under watchful eyes you let Jack lead the mare over. He’s terribly proud of himself. 

“Ready to mount up?” you ask, then don’t give him a moment to think about it before lifting him up and into the saddle.

He stares at you with wide eyes, scared and excited all at once. You remember the feeling. 

“Breathe, kid,” you remind him. “And get those feet in the stirrups. Sit deep. Shoulders tall.” You touch a hand to his stomach. “If you’re strong here, it’ll help you both balance. Less likely to fall.”

He nods, trying to do everything at once. He’s only halfway successful, but it will all come with practice. You lead the mare in between and around picketed horses, twisting and turning but keeping a steady pace. Every few strides you remind Jack to tilt his heels down, or square his shoulders. His little brow furrows with concentration. 

You don’t even realize how much time has passed until the sun sits high in the afternoon sky, and Abigail returns with the girls and baskets and baskets of laundry. 

“Reverend!” her shout rings through the clearing. “Where the hell is my son?”

“Over here, Mama!” Jack calls from atop his mount. 

He’s graduated to guiding the mare in circles off the lead, but you’re still close by. She’s being a wonderful sport about it, eyes half closed while she putters about barely registering the butterfly kicks her young rider gives. 

Abigail stops short when she sees you. Before she can say a word, Jack smiles and cheers for her attention to show off his new skills. He makes the mare turn left, then right, then beams over at the both of you.

“That’s,” Abigail starts, “Well, that’s real fine, Jack. Did you say ‘thank you’?”

“Thanks, Ghost!”

“Sure, kid. Any time.” 

The emotion that shines in her eyes is hard to place, but it brings a fragile smile to your face that she mirrors.

You help Jack down and he runs up to hug her skirts, smelling of sweat and horses, you’re sure. 

“Should Jack help cool her out?” Abigail asks.

You huff a laugh. The mare hasn’t broken a sweat. “I’ve got it. You two go on now.”

They turn to go, Jack racing off ahead, but Abigail stops and turns back. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” There’s so much packed into those two words, years of misunderstanding trying desperately to heal the pretty blue hurt in her eyes. The desert cracks in yours. 

You tip your hat, nod in understanding, scared that if you try to speak no words will come. 

—

John finds you later.

“Heard you an’ Jack had fun today.” 

You cut your eyes at him but keep your head on straight at the shirt you’re mending. It’s a botch job, but at least the hole will be gone. “Sure. Good kid you got there.”

“Ain’t so sure he is mine.” His laugh is humorless. Caustic.

“Does it matter?”

He’s silent for a long moment before admitting on a sigh, “I don’t know anymore.”

You don’t either.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 8

Chapter 9/?

***

The loud beeping of an alarm clock wakes Billy up at 8.30 am on Saturday, and he wishes he was dead.

Last night they partied hard.

Hangover is a logical but, clearly, an unwelcome payback. It feels like a thousand of tiny evil blacksmiths are forging iron on their anvils right inside his head. Fucking christ. Billy opens his eyelids with much difficulty and immediately closes them again. He has to get up, damn it, he has to be at work at 12.

He has to rise from the ashes.

That Halloween Friday sure was freaky.

Billy is instantly filled with regret.

Why didn't he reset his alarm clock yesterday for later.

Before the party, he didn't think about it. He was only shaking his ass in front of the mirror admiring how good he looked in that leather jacket, bitches be thirsty.

After the party it was too late to think about the fucking alarm clock.

Okay, slowly .. slowly, he needs to sit up.

Just don't throw up. On the fucking carpet.

Billy is sitting upright on the bed. That's an achievement. It feels like he's still alive. He can move.

His throat is dry like the Sahara desert, he's in desperate need of water. He has to get to the kitchen.

Billy registers that he's still wearing the dark blue jeans and the gloves from his party costume. The black leather jacket is lying on the floor, near the boots.

Billy slowly takes off the gloves, finds a t-shirt lying nearby and puts it on.

Did he come home at 3? He doesn't really remember. Something like that. He only knows that he was trying to be as quiet as possible, not to wake anyone up, because that skill is ingrained in his brain and body, deep.

Billy forces himself to get on his feet, and sits back down right away, dizzy and miserable.

Okay. Let's try again, buddy.

He so overdid it yesterday.

After dragging himself off the bed, Billy makes it to the door

But the moment he opens it, he understands that it was a mistake. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, it's Neil and Susan having breakfast. The evil leprechaun must be still sleeping.

Fuck his life, he's gonna die if he doesn't drink water but his dad's wrath is also scary. At least Neil's not gonna kill him right now, in front of his wife, as an extra good morning.

Billy summons all his strength to look as normal as possible and shuffles to the bathroom. He drinks straight from the tap, washes his face and looks at the toilet bowl as if making sure that throwing up is not on today's agenda.

It's still to be seen, but not right this moment, at least.

If he's gonna go back to his room, dad's gonna get on his ass about "being disrespectful" and "not saying good morning". Looks like Billy has no choice but to show his face to them in all its hungover glory.

He checks the face in the mirror. It's fine. Looks human.

Just don't puke on the breakfast table, and everything will be A-okay.

Billy goes to the kitchen, all humble and trying to look like a shadow.

"Good morning, dad. Good morning, Susan."

"Will you look at yourself?"

Neil's voice is full of disgust.

"What time did you get home yesterday?"

"I uh .. a little after midnight, probably. I apologize if I woke you up."

"You didn't wake us up, Billy." Susan is cutting in. "Would you like some breakfast?"

He actually needs to eat something but

He can't even drink coffee right now.

Water. Water. It'll get better in an hour, he just needs a lot of water, and to lie down.

"No, thank you, Susan. I'll get myself something later."

Billy pours a full glass of water. Time to retreat while it's still peaceful.

"I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Mark my words, son, as soon as you finish school, I'm not paying for another single day of your life! Senior year, the most important time, and he's wasting it on .. what, on debauchery??" Neil is addressing Susan now, all indignant and angry, oh he is angry but Billy hopes it won't get bigger than that.

At nine o'clock Neil and Susan are supposed to go grocery shopping, like they always do on Saturdays. Neil likes it when they stick to a plan. He's already getting up and looking for his car keys. Susan takes the last sip of her tea and starts flopping her good housewife wings around the kitchen.

"Let's go, Susan. Billy will clean up after breakfast, right?"

"Of course, I will."

"Thank you, Billy. Good bye! Wake Maxine up at 10 if she doesn't get up, please!" Susan is taking her purse and the list of groceries.

"Sure. Have a nice time shopping!"

Billy hears his dad telling Susan on their way out

"Seems a bit late to sleep for a girl her age?"

"I know, honey, but she gets so tired during the week, let her have her Saturday .."

The door closes, and they're gone.

It went very well, actually, all things considered.

Probably Neil just didn't want to deal with a hungover teenager cause the said teenager might throw up all over the place, so it's better not to touch him.

Such an unfortunate episode did happen once, when Billy was still in his very green years. He came home drunk, and Neil got in his face. He grabbed the boy by his collar and was telling him what a piece of crap and a fucking burden he was, which only led to Billy feeling even worse. Neil had to run to the shower to wash the vomit off, leaving his son to clean up the mess he'd made.

He got slapped around for that later, but it taught Neil a lesson as well.

Billy goes back to his room clutching the glass of water like a lifeline.

He sits down on the bed again and after finishing the whole glass, lies down. He doesn't want to close his eyes though, cause the dizziness is gonna be back so he's just lying there staring at the ceiling.

Vile gray light is seeping through the window. Outside the rain is drizzling.

Fuck Indiana and its nasty weather right in its Midwestern ass.

Fucking hell.

Billy usually knows when to stop, but yesterday he clearly didn't.

What even happened yesterday? .. He did the keg stand, and there was more beer and vodka .. and he definitely mixed it all, hence the hangover. Smoking non-stop, dancing, Tommy following him around like a faithful bulldog, Vicky hanging on his arm and touching his abs while they were dancing. There was another girl, persistently asking for his attention, Jennifer or .. was it ..

Oh shit.

Oh no no no no

Fucking stupid piece of shit.

Fffffuuuuuucckkkkk.

Billy shuts his eyes but it is a bad idea, because he's getting the dizzies and everything's spinning, so he presses his palms to his closed eyes, wishing to erase the memory of what happened between him and .. fuck. The dumb bitch, Harrington.

He and Harrington fucking .. smooched ??

No no no no nooooo

Billy is groaning hoarsely, and the sound of it reflects the depth of his desperation at his own stupidity

Why is he such an idiot. Why did he do it. He should've instead broken Harrington 's pretty nose ..

fuck JUST nose! Without the pretty, forget that he said .. or thought that.

What was it even, Billy didn't want to start any shit in the first place, as god is his witness.

His clouded consciousness doesn't provide him with much, but some flashes do come to his mind.

Bathroom. Harrington.

He fucking started it!

His face. His lips. His hand on the back of Billy's head, almost hurting, the fingers sharp and digging into his skin

The silky softness.

The wetness of their tongues touching

Fuck fuck FUCK.

Mission: erasing the memories.

Billy is an idiot. A certified one.

***

He crawls out of his bedroom half an hour later for more water, and to go to the bathroom. The hangover is gradually stepping away, but the more it does, the more unsettled Billy is.

His dad is right.

He's an imbecile.

At around ten he bangs on Max's door,

"Wakie, wakie, Maxine!" he bellows and then bangs some more until he hears

"Stop it, you jerk!"

"Rise and shine, birdbrain!"

Then goes to the kitchen to finally find some food.

He's slowly getting back to his senses. At 12 he needs to be at work, and he will be. Old Joe won't even notice that Billy partied last night.

Partied so hard, that he ended up kissing that annoying motherfucker.

Erase, erase, erase.

No panic. It was only once, and it was a mistake but Billy could always say nothing happened.

He was so wasted, he wasn't himself. Hell, he didn't even remember it when he woke up.

Harrington is not gonna run his mouth about it, what is he, a kamikaze?

It's nothing, it's just a drunken slip up.

Happens to the best of us, amirite?

***

***

Steve stays at home all Saturday. They only go grocery shopping with mom, he drives her to the store and back in the afternoon. Or course, Dad chooses this very day to ask him fucking questions. Steve mumbles something about his captainship ot the basketball team and finally finishing his college application essay. He's also retaking his SATs at the beginning of November cause the results of the tests he took last year were not very high. Not high enough.

They were pretty low. After he gets the new results back, he'll still have time to apply to some places. Mom asks him if he has thought of a backup plan, and Steve honestly says

"No, mom. I haven't."

"You probably should."

"Yes, I will, after I'm done with applications. Can I go study now?"

Parents do not seem very happy with the outcome of their conversation, but Steve can't offer more. To him, his future plan looks okay for now.

Honestly, Steve doesn't even know what specific sphere he'd like to study. He's still at home and at school, and the future seems vague and a little bit scary. Nancy is definitely aiming at a university, and Steve's not sure what will happen to their relationship.

Especially after yesterday.

He spends the whole evening revising for his SATs. A lot of confusing stuff. He probably should've started sooner, and not a week before.

Well.

Steve studies more on Sunday, but then Tommy calls and they decide to go to a pizza place.

They order pepperoni and cola, and Steve can finally take a breath with his whole chest

"Ugh man, I've been studying for two days straight, my brain's on fire."

"Dad wants you to get into Yale or something?"

"Well no .. but .. they want me to have a clear plan, and I don't have it, and it's just .. they fucking nag."

Tommy nods in understanding

"Yeah man."

"Must retake SATs soon, and it just .."

"It sucks."

They chew some more pizza

"You remember, Hargrove took your keg king title? The dude got 52 seconds, fucking crazy."

At the mention of Hargrove's name Steve's cheeks start feeling hotter

"Yeah, whatever. I got bigger problems to worry about now."

"The princess?"

"We had a huge fight at the party. She was so drunk. I dunno, Tommy."

"You haven't talked to her since the party?"

"No. Why?"

Hagan is looking at Harrington in a weird way

"Hey, man .. I've actually been meaning to tell you. I think you should know."

"Know what?"

"Your Wheeler girl .. remember you asked me and Carol where she was and we told you she'd left home?"

"Yeah?"

"Well she didn't go home alone."

"That's good? She was drunk."

"Do you know who she left with?"

"How am I supposed to know that? I didn't see her leaving. You and Carol told me she was fine, and I .. I kinda left it at that?"

"So you still don't know?"

"Tommy, what the fuck?"

Hagan's still looking at Steve like he pities him but he also wants to gloat so bad because he told his friend a lot of times to "dump that prissy bitch", and they even fought over it, more than once, and voilà, in the end Tommy is actually right

"I thought that maybe she left with this .. Samantha or something? .. Tommy??"

"You girlfriend left with the Byers freak."

WHAT

"She what?"

"Just thought you should know."

"She left with Byers?"

"Yup."

"Jonathan Byers?"

"Yes, Steve."

Fucking what?

"Are you sure?"

"Dude, I was drunk but not blind. Carol saw that too. Nancy went downstairs in her wet dress, and it was like .. well, he was just standing there near the stairs. They talked for a minute and then went away together."

Well, that's uh .. Steve didn't expect that.

Is that what people feel when their heart breaks? Is that the burning acid of being betrayed?

Tommy eats what's left of the pizza.

Steve doesn't pick Nancy up on Monday to drive her to school as he usually does.

***

***

On Monday before practice coach Nelson informs the team that

"We're having visitors this week, boys! Let's show them all you've got!"

Two sports recruiters are coming to see if they have any hidden talents here in Hawkins.

Billy thinks someone should warn them not to waste their time. There's nothing to look for here. Nada. Fucking zero.

He knows that the odds of being chosen are extremely slim. And even if a recruiter spots you, it guarantees nothing.

Billy has seen his share of sports scouts back in San Diego. He's aware that they are not interested in him.

There are so many good things recruiters told Billy. He's a great player, he scores points, he makes flashy moves, his techniques of shooting, dribbling, rebounding and defense are excellent as well as such attributes as strength, endurance, speed and agility, blah blah blah. His physical characteristics - weight and wingspan - meet the requirements. Add to it Billy's intelligence on the court and the unbeaten desire to win.

He basically has it all.

There's just one problem - Hargrove's too short to be a professional basketball player. He's too fucking short, and that's why a career in basketball is not even an option.

He's 5'10. It's fine. Just not for the NBA.

At some point in his life Billy used to be bitter about his height. That was when the first recruiter came looking and he was like

"Kid, if only you were taller."

The second one said the same. And the third. Little by little, Billy accepted it as it is, and that's why

He doesn't care about the visitors. Unlike him, the whole team is buzzing. Are they stupid? Recruiters will never choose any of them. The only player who has a tiny microscopic chance of getting noticed is probably Andy. He's tall, he's got the physique. His game's not great but it can be worked with.

Harrington, on the other hand? Billy's has seen his serious and focused face, eyebrows knitted together, when the coach mentioned the recruiters.

Please, it's ridiculous.

Billy's not even gonna elaborate. It's simply ludicrous.

Harrington can drool all over his pillow having dreams of a sports scholarship or a prominent career in the NBA, and the sucker can keep on dreaming because that's as close as he's gonna get to playing this sport professionally.

Anyhoo.

It's skins and shirts as always, and Billy's playing rough as usual. He's seen Harrington in the school hallway earlier and they shared a class. Billy just straight up ignored the loser. Steve also didn't seem to look his way much, maybe he doesn't even remember about the kiss.

He also looks as if he's brooding about something, like something weighs heavy on his preppy-ass soul.

Either way, it's not Billy's business and he doesn't give a shit.

And yeah,

Mission: erasing the memories of the most idiotic kiss

Status: incomplete.

In his defense, Billy was so wasted, he could've kissed anyone.

***

***

During the match Hargrove behaves like nothing happened, there's just something about his game that's extra precise and extra ruthless. Like he wants to show with all his obnoxious persona that he's above all that and doesn't give a fuck. It's likely he doesn't recall what happened on Friday night because he was drunk as a fish.

Or it's a bluff.

He remembers.

Steve knows he does. Why is he so sure? Cause Hargrove hasn't touched him once since the beginning of the game, hasn't said anything mean to him. He's trying to send a message that he doesn't care, but he's trying too hard, and it shows.

Billy knows what they've done, and he's .. what, ashamed?

Heheehe.

Nice.

Harrington would've gotten much more pleasure out of it if his heart wasn't hurting.

Are they broken up with Nancy, did she cheat on him? What the hell is this whole fucking situation?

Steve's lost in his thoughts when suddenly he hears Nancy's loud irritated voice

"Steve?"

There she is, standing at the gym doors, clearly expecting Harrington to come have a conversation with her outside.

He doesn't want to bail on his team in the middle of the game but he's been avoiding Nancy all morning, and soon he won't be able to tolerate the level of acidity that has swallowed his whole being.

They do need to talk.

Steve needs it.

They go outside to the little passage between the gym and the school building where they usually hide smoking with the guys.

Maybe it's the first time since they got together, when Steve's absolutely not happy to see his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend? Guess we'll find out now.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?"

Nancy sounds pissed. She talks to him in that tone like .. like a strict mother to a naughty child, when she's angry at him.

"You didn't call all weekend.. and where were you this morning? I missed first period!"

"I figured Jonathan would take you."

"Wha .. what are you talking about?" Maybe she's a good actress but there's genuine surprise in her voice. She looks confused.

Harrington scoffs

"Jesus, you really can't handle your alcohol."

"Uh ..?"

"You remember going to Tina's party on Friday night?"

"Yes?"

"And then what?"

"I remember dancing .. and spilling some punch."

Nancy's thinking for a second.

"You got mad at me because I was drunk. And then you took me home."

Does she really remember nothing or that's all acting?

"No, see, this is where your mind gets a little bit fuzzy."

Steve's making a pause.

"That was your other boyfriend. That was .. that was Jonathan."

There's a perplexed expression on Nancy's face

"I don't understand."

"It's pretty simple, Nance."

"What?"

"You were just telling it like it is."

Maybe she really doesn't remember. That doesn't make it okay though.

"Uh .. apparently, we killed Barb and I don't care cause I'm bullshit and our whole .. our whole relationship is bullshit and .. I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit bullshit bullshit."

Nancy raises her well-defined eyebrows and wrinkles her forehead

That doesn't make the stuff she told Steve okay!!

"Oh yeah also you don't love me."

"I was drunk, Steve. I don't remember any of that."

Really? So you can get hammered and tell your boyfriend you don't love him, and then everything should just get back to normal cause you don't recall doing that?

"So that makes everything you said .. it's what? Just bullshit too?"

"Yes?"

"Then tell me. Tell me that you love me and there's nothing going on between you and Jonathan."

"Really, Steve?"

"Harrington !!"

Roy is out of his breath, appearing between the buildings.

"Dude we need you, man! That douchebag is killing us! Let's go !!"

"I'm coming!"

"There is nothing going on between me and Jonathan, Steve."

It's nice to hear, really. Steve needs a longer explanation though.

"We're not done talking, Nance."

Their team loses anyways, with or without the captain. There's something about Billy's game today, it's .. like he's holding that distance, with a hint of "nothing personal, guys".. Is he getting ready to show off in front of the sports scouts? The new behaviour infuriates the hell out of Steve, even though the asshole hasn't pushed him one single time.

You're wrong about nothing personal, Hargrove. Locking mouths seems pretty personal to me.

However, Billy's not number one problem on the list of Steve's troubles right now. Let him believe Harrington has suffered a case of amnesia, and there was no kiss.

***

Steve picks Nancy up after school. On the way to her house she tells him

"Nothing happened that night, I swear."

"Are you sure, Nance? You didn't even understand who took you home! You thought it was me!"

"Steve, I would know if someone tried sleeping with me in my own bed, okay?"

She also admits that they sometimes talk with Jonathan between classes or during library study. They talk mostly about Barb, because his little brother Will was also missing last summer. They found him in the woods. Three weeks later, yet they found him. Maybe Barb also disappeared in the woods. Too much time has passed and there's no hope of finding her alive, but bringing some certainty would help her parents obtain peace.

Nancy assures Steve there's nothing romantic going on between her and Jonathan.

Steve's at a loss. Like .. he feels that he can't give Nancy the consolation she's looking for. He has no idea what happened to Barb and he thinks they should let the police deal with the whole thing. He can listen to Nancy, but what else can he offer? He's not .. experienced at things like that.

Steve should probably make a scene anyway and get really pissed and show her how hurt his feelings are, but he's also kinda glad everything 's cleared up, and she didn't cheat on him, and they are still together.

They are still together, right?

Nevertheless, he definitely must keep an eye on Jonathan Byers. The guy took creepy pictures of them in the middle of the night, Nancy seems to have forgotten about that. Steve should have a talk with Byers, tell him to stay away from his girl.

They kiss each other good bye.

It feels .. mechanic.

***

Late at night when Steve's again tossing and turning in bed, he suddenly realises that Nancy told him a lot of words but forgot to mention the most important thing - she didn't tell him she loved him.

Should he ask her again?

Tell me you love me

He's always thought if you're in love and in a relationship, you shouldn't be asking the person you're together with for confirmation.

Steve again feels that he wants to give so much, but no-one needs it, and no-one is willing to give back the same amount.

Of love.

Or even close to it.

Maybe relationships aren't that easy, and he's idealising them.

However, if there's no love, what's there to fight for?

[belaprus]

Dottore x reader: being his assistant (pt.7)

'Today is another day of work', you thought while waking up in your bed... except that it wasn't your bed.

You had woken up in a white room full of lights, hard gum-coated metal keeping your head, arms and legs in place. You knew perfectly what this meant: 'That bastard Pantalone...! Did he set me up?!'

You froze in place as you heard one clapping sound, then another, and then again, the sound getting closer and closer to the hospital bed you laid in.

"Well done, Akademiya student... What was your name again?"

You were silent. Not only Pantalone had set you up, he had even disclosed your past to a fucking sociopath. 'Speaking about worst-case-scenario, here...' your thoughts were interrupted by the harsh sound of his hands falling at your sides. He didn't have his mask on, and given the context you had half an idea it was your last time seeing him... Or anything else at all, for that matter. You couldn't help gulping as this time his whole face was looking at you, and it made it that much more intimidating.

With his malicious, wide smile on you, he spoke again: "A little bird told me you have quite the crush on me"

"So you decided to tie me up? So romantic"

"SHUT UP", his composure was already gone, along with your hopes for the future. He continued:

"What do you know about me?"

"..." You didn't know if telling him you had searched up all of Sumeru's Akademiya to find clues about him would have been better than lying, at this point. How would he react? Would he even believe you?

--------------

'Like hell she did. It must have been Pantalone's doing all along' was all he could think about. He was furious. How had he been so blind as to trust her? 'Calm down, Dottore... Gut is always right. There must be something I've been missing about... I just have to make her talk'

He pulled out a scalpel from his coat's pocket, taking it upwards along her belly to stop at her neck, pointing vertically at her jugular.

"You're in no position to stay silent, little assistant. Think carefully"

"Are you here to find an excuse to hunt your colleague down? Because if you are, it doesn't even matter what I say"

"You would already be dead if that was the case. Talk now, I'm not gonna wait any longer"

"I used to have connections with the Akademiya, and that's where I had come to know that you were back in Sumeru. I didn't know a thing about you at first, but just hearing about how you were cast out of the Akademiya for blasphemy was enough to abandon all of my other researches to come looking for you"

"Did you encounter the Traveler?"

"I was tailing him when he found your little hospital in the middle of the desert. I read all of the pages you left regarding your experiments"

"And then?"

"I got cast away, because I was found out. It was shortly after that time that Pantalone scouted me. At first, I was in charge of following the Traveler, but after the accident with your clones had happened he said you would need some company, because you were getting unstable. Only me and the Traveler, other than the other Harbingers, would know enough about you to be considered worthy of the job. And that's why Pantalone sent me to you"

"How often have you been reporting to him about my situation?"

"Once a week"

A dry laughter was his only response, as he slightly removed the scalpel from her throat. But this wasn't enough for him. He then moved it onto her left eye:

"I feel like you've already seen too much with those eyes of yours. Though I have an important question to make before I decide to act on them: why did you make it all this way, just to get to me?"

She had been calm until now, her face a mess of conflicting emotions. She looked like she wasn't able to put all of her thoughts in order, blabbering nonsense as Dottore felt this was her perfect spot to poke on. When the scalpel was about to touch her eye, she finally spat out:

"Because I was so sick of this world. Whatever new thing I wanted to try out, people from the Akademiya would deem it as blasphemy. Machinery could have been used to help with hard labour, but it was forbidden. Psychiatry could help those who were mentally unstable to recover, but it was forbidden. And it was always “Rukkhadevata” this, “Rukkhadevata” that... I had never even seen a god. And even when I got to the other side of Sumeru, I was only met with another kind of fanatics, seeing the Village Keepers as animals despite them having saved all. I just wanted to take the best out of anything, that's the only thing I was ever good at. But just for once, I had changed plans... I wanted to find someone who could understand me, instead of the opposite. Someone just as wrong and blasphemous as me"

By the time she had finished, the scalpel was on the ground. Tears then started to fill her face, and it sent shivers down Dottore's spine: no wonder Pantalone had chosen her to be his assistant. Both of them had fallen under his trap. What was he scheming? 'Is he trying to mock me?', he thought. But his thoughts and words weren't matching up:

"You're not wrong. You wanted knowledge to help others. That's the only thing I wouldn't understand about you: you found yourself into a nest of wolves, but you aren't one of us"

She looked hurt now. He continued nevertheless:

"Do you even realize Pantalone has been using you all along?"

"I do. But if that's what it takes to be here with you, I would do it again an infinite amount of times"

His eyes opened wide as that sparkle from back when he was talking with Pantalone had returned. He knew he shouldn't have chosen to ask her. This was exactly what his guts were warning him about: feeling this good had to be avoided at all costs. He was relieved, though: such a mentally broken girl couldn't be capable of lying... Not to him, at least. There still was this stirring anxiety about what she had said earlier, but at least the worst hadn't happened: she only knew as far as Pantalone did.

-----------

When he had completely released you of your metal bands, you were full of bruises around the zones they were put on. You weren't sure how to tell Pantalone: in all honesty, you had a feeling he had already predicted, if not wanted, this.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary2

today we did errands and i did hate it like i thought. i don't know why i hate it so much. like okay hate it's too strong a way to put it but it wigs me out totally.

i guess probably, i hate going outside lately, and partly being around my gf and her mom puts me on edge, they're both anxious people who dawdle or i feel like they dawdle and i just want to go back home because it's hot out because we live in the dumbest desert ever and even if they're both having a good time basically it's made up of 100 mini arguments that no one has any stake in until one of the decides that something was really actually transgressed and that makes me feel catty and irritable but also i'm stupid and lazy, or i don't know. i feel kind of like i have to do most of the important stuff, but what is that really, that's not true, i just watch the laundry in the laundromat, i sit and listen to orchid, i feel people stare at me and then i watch my girlfriend fold the laundry because she doesn't like/need my help, and then we go to the store and she wanders around, she used to be a lot worse, and she also randomly decides rather than having us go look for something in the direction we're going maybe she should ask her mom to do that, and then get disappointed with what her mom brings her, so we go look. i don't know. it's annoying, is all, and i feel bad about that because it's so dumb to be annoyed, it should be funny it feels like but it makes me a little miserable to be dragged around places that make me feel totally dirty to be inside of, like, have you looked at the floors of every super market/market/wherever you buy your vegetables like god it's so gross and i'm transfixed by that because i'm like, also that gross too basically, right.

or i think that way a little. otherwise today was fine except for i came home and went crazy. when i go crazy i just say the same thing over and over, and i don't know why, it's not mean stuff it's just all stupid, i feel a clot in my throat talking about it/typing it, because like, what is it, i'm always convinced i know exactly what i'm saying when i'm saying it, but i can hardly remember, and like, there's almost no intention, i just start doing things and i can't help it, i just do it. when i'm super stressed i guess i just become way stupid.

definitely.

n e wayzzz, yesterday i think i fucked up a number, it wasn't 22 i stopped crying right, it was earlier, like, 21-20-ish probably. i don't know why correcting that feels so important. it makes me look way more pathetic, which is fine, i've made peace with that. everything that's ever happened to me means way too much for way too long. i don't think i hold grudges, at least.

last night i saw this print in the towel from last time i wore makeup, it happens every time so next time, which will be soon cuz i'll put makeup on when i go see melt banana cuz i want to serve cunt i guess, anyways it was my eyes closed drawn w/ mascara, when i washed my face and i couldn't get all the stuff off my face because i'm really lazy with the micellar pads or actually it's mostly because i like waking up and seeing some on my face still. i think it's actually when eyeliner looks best on me.

that's like, true.

tomorrow is gonna be weird because i have to meet with someone for semi-professional reasons after not having a job forever because i'm honestly terrible at being employed and it makes wanna die, but this is me probably getting paid to make music for someone's movie, and he likes a demo i did for him so that's #cool right. it's scary because i don't know what he'll say and how much he'll want from me, and i'm scared about not being perfect at it, and i'm scared it'll sap my ability to make what i normally make anyways but that fear is really stupid. if anything i think it'd make me want to go the other direction more, right.

i did work on music today but no vox, i just took some drums off grid on a song, which is fun, or not really but it's rewarding to go through and think about how another human would be dealing with a song/interpreting it in a live way almost, but the hits being so clearly from a drum machine of some kind, it makes it a little uncanny.

tomorrow i need to wake up early, so i can warm up and do some vocals somewhere, probably work on the song that i want to be another single a little bit, some parts need a little improvement i feel like. i didn't listen to the songs i did yesterday yet, too freaked out i guess.

today i ate, like, i forgot what i started with. i woke up in pain, my stomach was a gravity pit and it made getting up hard, i was just falling into myself and my body was distantly sore, i woke up, and i took too long in the shower so my gf's mom got here while i was drying my hair which probably is part of what put me in a stressed out place today already. anyways i think the first thing i ate after 2-3 hours of being awake was chicken tenders. i'm not saying where from because it makes me feel sort of ridiculous i guess, i dunno why. i should just say because it is ridiculous and it's really funny, for some reason shaq owns some kind of chicken chain, and we ate it today. it's fine, i like the french fries, they're crazy thin and i think i can still taste the salt at the back of my throat. we ate in the car because laundry had to happen. i didn't have water so i was dying a little bit. i have water now which is nice. uhhhhhhhhhhhh

trying to think, the next time i ate was at home, i ate a cinnamon roll that i think my girlfriend wanted but also doesn't care about too much and a blueberry muffin. i keep saying i'm going to eat the other one because it makes me look psycho, which is funny i think. what else.

in the shower, today, i thought about living with my aunt a lot, i hope my cousin who moved out around the same time i was moving out of there is well, i hope my cousin who moved in as i moved in there and is presumably still there, there being vague because maybe my aunt moved and took her kid with her, is doing better than he was, but i don't know. i sort of developed the fear that he maybe did something awful, i don't know why he would though.

makes me think about my other cousins, on my dad's side. they both turned out to have awful lives, they were normal for a while until they were adults, and switches came on in their heads maybe, around the same time each were arrested for domestic violence, both in jail. i remember vividly the time one picked up their cat and threw her in the pool and we three watched her run out, long hair all wet, she looked like a rat from a sewer. they were in highschool, i was way younger. another time, one showed me a glass bluebird, translucent, he talked about how it represented jesus, and then in that same stretch of time, i played ocarina of time on their n64.

i also ate some pretzel rods, i forgot, they were from the 99 cent store, i tried to get some in the smiths but my gf said: i got those exact ones in the 99 cent store. and then her mom showed up and she told that to her mom twice because her mom was not listening at all the first time.

friday we are seeing melt banana which i am excited about but i am not excited about hanging out downtown potentially cuz it's so fucking windy in the summer i don't want to have my bangs get fucked up in the wind that's so annoyinggg and also last time we were there i became inconsolable because i tried a dress on and it didn't fit and i was unhappy for at least 2 days. i think i sound really unfun in these posts. whatever.

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

everytime i successfully draw dune my heart flutters and palpitates and there is a growl that wishes to escape my throat. this feeling lasts for at least 30 minutes. im snarling and hissing and my pupils are wide and my nails ache to tear into something AHHHHHHH DUNE!!!!!!!!!!!!! ohhh i hate you i hate you i hate you. i hate you dune. i love you. i love you so much. if you were real and we met i would get into a physical altercation with you and be pleased when you beat me to a pulp. oh dune. oh dune. oh dune. i just. i just need to bite and tear your flesh dune. ohhhh ooohhhh ohh

hehehehe ^_^ he is so cute ^_^ eheheh ^_^ he is soooo cute ^_^ he is literally the most unpleasant person to be around ^_^

remembered today that dune has an absolutely fantastic memory and remembers everything he’s ever told and ^_^ (barely containing a gutteral scream) oooohh. he acts like he doesn’t care and he acts like he’s annoyed whenever anyone talks to him but he stores the info. he files it away and he remembers. he is the ultimate gift giver because he knows everything his partners like off the top of his head

he is soooo grouchy. sooo grumpy. i adore him. he’s such a freaking bitch. he’s so rude and unpleasant and everyone hates him. everyone hates him and that’s ok because he wants them to kind of. he wants to be rude and scary and make everyone avoid him. he is soooo ARGRHRGHRR

:(((((((((((( he was so happy as a kid. :(((((( he has dimples. :(((((( he still smiles like he used to (albeit sharper now) and when jackal sees it he recognizes it and suddenly they’re 7 years old together again :(((((((((((((((((((((( he used to be so energetic and outgoing and friendly :((((( he used to have strong morals and believed in doing what was right :((((((((((( :((( IM SO SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i need to rip him apart

he has so many freckles everywhere. i never draw it but in a fic i wrote i said that jackal has always seen a boy picking a flower within them (like connect the dots style). it is a metaphor. or whatever it’s called. OOOHHHH IM SO SAD. flowers like that don’t just grow in the desert. but when dune was a boy. he was so innocent and pure hearted. he would’ve picked the flower if there was any. he would’ve given it to jackal

i’m sick. i’m sick. i’m sick to my stomach. dune i need to sink my teeth into you. he’s rude and awful but he’s still a neutral person. he doesn’t want to be evil. he hates who he’s become. but he will repay the fire he’s been dealt with even more of it. he’s too scared to do anything else

he’s become a monster in his eyes. he’s changed completely, for the worst, and if he went back in time and showed this self to when he was a boy, the boy would’ve been terrified. he’dve been so scared

but dune is still thoughtful. he can’t connect emotionally very well anymore so he shows his love through gifts and acts of service. he shows his love these ways all of the time. so often. every damn day

some dune moments from my fic (it’s like that old black hole on a03)

he wakes up from being literally almost stabbed to death and his immediate response is to call locust an asshole (it’s /aff but shhhh). the flinching at the tear. the wiping it away. dune you are soooo tortured

ok never mind i can’t keep looking thru it that fic. i can’t. i forgot how emotional everything makes me. i reread it a hundred times while working on it and so i got bored but now im not bored now reading it makes me feel like im gonna become pieces so many pieces a billion pieces

[companionwolf]

Toy Soldiers Ch 9

Commander, Commander, wake up!

The human groans, sits up, blinking blearily. Their head throbs -- the movements send it aching harder, and they sink back into the couch.

The toy's are positioned on the cushion next to them, obscured by a couple of bottles. As they try again to get into a seated position, they knock more bottles off the couch onto the floor, which clatter against far still more. They wearily do a double take.

"Oh, fuck, that was a lot," they mumble.

I've never seen you drink to black out before, says Central, voice tinged with worry.

They drag their hands down their face. "I wanted to work on the dollhouse today but if I move I think my brain will explode."

Get these bottles off of the couch and lie back down, says Shen.

The Commander sweeps the rest of the bottles off the cushions to the floor, and then flops down, shading their eyes from the noon sun. They reach over with their other hand and pick up the toys, placing the two on their chest.

Won't do that again, will you?

They hesitate to answer her.

Sure, they feel like shit but hey don't remember nightmares, don't remember dreaming at all. It's nice.

"I think," they say, "I have a problem."

Yeah, says Central. He sounds sad.

"Nothing to do about it, though," they say, closing their eyes. "It's fine."

It is not fine, says Shen. Central transmits wordless agreement. The Commander groans again softly.

I think you need human interaction, says Central.

"I think I need a grave," they answer.

Weren't you going to help those Reapers?

"Urgh, do you have to bring that up?"

I think it would do you good, Central goes on. We could go with you.

"Yeah, okay," they sigh. "Only if you two are there. What did they want me to do again?"

Mediate a meeting between the Reapers and these ADVENT deserters, Shen says.

The Commander groans a third time.

"Couldn't be something easy, could it? No, fuck me," they mumble.

Can you do it? Without Asaru?

"Sure I can," they say. "I didn't get where I am just because of Asaru. We complimented each other, but both of us are-- were damn good tacticians already in our own rights."

The Commander frowns. "I just don't want to do it," they say after a stretch of silence. "I don't want anything to do with the resistance. I like what I have and getting involved…"

Might take it away, Shen finishes.

"Don't say it out loud!"

Superstitious? Central asks.

"No, just…" They pause. "I don't want to lose this."

Drinking yourself silly and being so bowled over the next day you can't do shit?

The Commander drops their head back against the couch cushions. "You know what I mean," they say.

You go, you help make sure they don't kill each, you leave, Central continues. In and out, easy.

"I guess," they say, shoulders sagging. "It'll be weird without Asaru. Been with him so long the idea is almost ridiculous..."

Could we look for him?

The Commander raises an eyebrow.

For Asaru, Shen elaborates. We don't know for sure if he's dead.

"I…hadn't thought of that," they say sheepishly. "I just kind of assumed that they killed him or assimilated him or--"

We have got to try, then. You owe it to him-- and to yourself, give him what you didn't get. Central's voice is intense as he adds, you both deserve someone to have tried.

The Commander swallows hard against the lump in their throat. "OK, say we do this," they say. "I think the first problem is I don't know where they were holding me. Otherwise I'd try to get in there first to look."

Let's ask around when we go to the peace talks, says Shen. If not about Asaru directly, about the Elders.

They nod. "Right, okay. Figure out if he's even…if there's any chance of recovering him, then figure out where he is and how to get to him."

It's more a plan than we had a few minutes ago, Central says.

The Commander wraps a hand around both toys, holds them closer, and lies there like that for a while. Then they sit up, tuck the two into their pockets, get up and stumble into the kitchen.

They get a small serving of soup and sit on the floor to eat, a pot of water boiling while they do so, them leaving the toys and the bowl on the counter when they're done.

They duck into the rudimentary bathroom, bathing in the potted water that's lukewarm but not as cold as the well would be. They pause in front of the mirror, gaze back at their reflection-- tired eyes, skinny frame, short hair.

Commander? calls Central.

"Coming," they answer, returning the pot to their cabinets and putting the toys back in their respective pant pockets as they clean up the living room of bottles.

What do we do first? asks Shen.

"I need to go practice with my shotgun," they say. "And my Psionics." They cringe. "God, both of those are gonna make me ache…"

Let's take care of the garden instead, says Central. And show Shen the dollhouse sketches. She'll probably have some ideas for it.

Yeah, I want to see it!

"Alright, I'll show you," they murmur, trudging up the stairs to the salvaged desk in the corner of their bedroom.

The Commander opens a large sketchbook, flips to the most recent page. Sketches of a multiple story miniature house meet their gaze-- they pull out the toys and turn them so they're looking down at the drawings. "What do you think?"

Needs a light source, says Shen after a moment. If that's possible.

"For you two, anything," they say.

Corny, says Central. He's laughing.

The Commander sits in that sound for a second, letting it wrap around them like a blanket. It's warm. Kind.

I think you could also add some more support for the upper levels, Shen goes on, snapping them from their reverie.

They nod at her. "Duly noted," they answer as they shut the sketchbook and head downstairs, grabbing the gardening tools by the front door. By the time the sun sets, they have tended to the growing vegetables and harvested a few bundles of produce, and as they stand in the kitchen making more soup, they realize their headache has lifted.

For the most part, anyway.

Tomorrow you should do your training, says Central.

They nod absently as they chop carrots. "I'll have to make some kind of shooting range, for target practice, but that shouldn't be too hard," they say, jerking their head at the pile of bottles in the trash can.

No more of that, says Central.

"One can't hurt," they say, pausing to grab a bottle. They blink as they look down into the cooler and find none left. "Oh. Oh. Okay. Maybe not then."

Central transmits worry; Shen a shaking head.

"It'll be fine," they say, turning back to the soup. "It's not -- it's not a real problem."

Why, because it's you?

The Commander frowns. "I wouldn't say that--"

You just seem the type to think that, says Shen. Given that you think you should have died, this makes sense to be in your wheelhouse too. Just saying.

They stir the soup, not answering for a while. Then: "You're probably right, all things considered."

There's a sense of Central prodding at them. "What?" they ask.

Hold my hand, he says.

They blink at the forward request. "Okay," they say, sliding one hand into the pocket, nestling a finger in his plastic hand. "Why did you ask?"

You seem calmer when you do this, he says. And I wanted to help.

"Oh," they say. Their insides twist. "Thanks."

Shen laughs. You two are pretty cute together, she says.

The Commander flushes red. "It's not like that!" they say, way too quickly.

They're my human, says Central. I offered to be a comfort once, and that offer still stands.

Shen transmits the sense of her shaking her head again, but in an amused way. Sure, okay, she says.

The Commander tries to return to working on the soup, but Shen's words echo echo echo.

You two are pretty cute together.

They want to hide their face in their hands. Are they that obvious? If she can see it, he must too…

It's fine, they think. It's fine. I'm just enamored because I'm lonely and he's like that because he's a toy.

And yet.

You two are pretty cute together.

God, the Commander wants that more than anything-- together.

But it can't happen. Humans don't do that. Toys don't. It just…isn't a thing.

…could they make it a thing?

The Commander realizes, quite suddenly, that God, they want to try.

[hiislegacy]

scorching-passion​:

Chaos was possibly putting it mildly, but there was something so terribly alluring about the blond mercenary which had the Third keep coming back for more. A little… upheaval was surely nothing sort of a mild inconvenience when it came to his own pursuit… or perhaps a bonus if he wanted to think about it hard enough. As a harbinger of all things chaotic himself, who was Roche to turn his nose up at the prospect of conflict, no matter the context or the form it may take. 

Still, a wolfish grin would tug at the corners of his mouth in response to the smaller blond’s cry of protest - oh, never pleased to see him in the wake of a roaring engine and the screech of rubber against the tarmac. And he would lean so very casually across the G-bike’s handlebars, his cheek nestled upon a single palm as he would so very innocently eye him over as he attempts to walk right into the dragon’s maw. 

But Roche had not come here in this instance in search of mop-a-top ShinRa deserters, but for the sake of slaughtering the monsters gathering at the very base of this particular reactor; mostly decommissioned yet still harbouring the power to draw in the weird and wonderful creatures birthed down in the scrap. 

It would seem Roche was simply up on his luck today… or so he would like to think anyway. 

“Why so dismissive, my friend?! To think you would callously turn your back on fate, hm?” a low sardonic chuckle would follow, if only to accentuate the validity of his statement. 

“You don’t believe that it may be destiny which continues to bring us together?!”

“Uh, no. I don’t believe in any of that!” Cloud was lying to himself, because of course it had to be something like destiny, or fate. Why else would their paths keep crossing. Whatever the reason, it annoyed him to no end, and he desperately just wanted to keep away from the other. And though, as much as their antics were secretly amusing, he just had other issues to deal with. Big issues, like ShinRa, and it’s new President, constantly down his and his friend’s throats, a back-from-the-dead one-winged enemy... There were more every day, and it just kept piling. Still... none of this couldn’t stop him from having the smallest flutter in his chest each and every time they would meet again. A feeling that Cloud was willing to drown out and cover with all the anger he could muster. “So, just get back to where you were going, and out of my face. Please, and thank you.” Of course, his gaze did linger briefly at how Roche was leaning on that bike, and he may have been staring for too long.

@scorching-passion​

[tihnxri]

— #cynari hanahaki disease fic.

words: 2806

has not been proofread.

— this is my first time posting something like this here. i hope it’s alright (“:

- - -

The gentle touches, the careful hands around his wrists, the small whispers, the laughter like they’re the only ones in the room—Tighnari couldn’t help but lean into it all. Each time Cyno came around, Tighnari felt an instant warmth in his chest; when Cyno gets close, with their shoulders knocking, it sparks a shock through Tighnari. And when Cyno brings back dates from the desert after his trips, Tighnari eats them to show his gratitude even if he doesn’t entirely enjoy the snack. It’s from Cyno, Tighnari will take anything offered to him from the jackal.

Collei could tell that Tighnari held deep emotions for the General Mahamatra. If Cyno couldn’t see how differently he’s been treated by Tighnari compared to the others, then the sun from the desert must have stolen his eyesight. The signs are so explicit, even if Tighnari tries to hide it.

There are times where Cyno would stay the night after a long trip. He’d lay in Tighnari’s bed as the latter stayed up all night trying to focus on his work and logs. Often he would fall asleep there and wake up with a blanket around his shoulders and an empty bed. Tighnari hates that Cyno leaves so quietly, but he knows the general wants him to get his rest.

Despite all of this, Tighnari still coughs up the petals and feels stems crawling around his lungs. The thorns painfully pierce him from time to time and force him to cough those blood-covered petals up. He’s managed to hide it from everyone for this long, though Collei could tell that he was feeling sick. The girl is around him often enough to tell when something is up.

“Master Tighnari,” she knocks on his door and walks in when welcomed, “I just returned with the rest of the forest rangers, and I wanted to bring you our report.” The girl walks over to her teacher, handing him the clipboard.

“More withering zones are appearing, huh?” He presses his finger to his lip in thought. “Ghandarva Ville?”

“Just outside the perimeter,” she confirms. “We took care of it, but only managed to sustain it. I don’t doubt it will grow back.”

“Thanks for the report. You can go now.” Tighnari places the clipboard to his side, feeling the petals come up. He clears his throat to try and chase it down so he could cough it up when Collei leaves. Once the door shuts, he slaps a hand over his mouth and coughs up so many bloody petals. Tighnari avoids his desk so there’s no blood on the papers.

The pain feels a lot worse today, but Tighnari acts like everything is fine. He wipes off the blood from his lips and tosses the flowers away. Oh, how painful it was that he knows Cyno can’t possibly feel the same way. The Fennec fox leans back in his chair, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he looks at the ceiling. His ears flatten, disheartened at the thought of Cyno rejecting him.

-

“Oh, Master Tighnari?” Collei tilts her head at the General Mahamatra. “He’s gone out with a few Forest Rangers to clear the withering. You just missed him, he left around maybe 10 minutes ago. If you wish, you can stay until he returns!”

Cyno hums softly. “I’m in a bit of a rush,” he pulls a box from his bag to hand them to Collei, “but please give these to him on my behalf. They’re the dates he enjoys. I thought I’d bring him some more.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait a bit?” Collei asked, taking the box into her arms. “It’s been a while since you two talked. I’m sure Master Tighnari would enjoy your presence.”

“I wish I could,” Cyno crosses his arms, “but I have important things to deal with. I was just in the area, so I thought I’d stop by to check in on you both.”

Collei smiles, “Well, I can’t stop you. I hope you can come back again soon, when Master Tighnari is around. I’ll be sure to let him know!” Cyno only nods and leaves, blending into the night with his black cloak.

Tighnari returns 10 minutes later exhausted and his arm bandaged up. Collei panics, already asking if he’s okay and if he needs anything. “I’m alright, Collei. Just a couple scratches that will heal by the end of the week.” Tighnari smiles in reassurance, sitting at his desk. He notices the box, sitting upright.

Collei notices and gasps, “Right! Those are from the General Mahamatra. He stopped by while you were out, but he was in a rush and couldn’t stay. He said he was in the area and decided to stop by quickly.”

Tighnari frowns a little. He missed Cyno? The one person he wished to see? “Always busy, that one.” Tighnari laughs a little and opens the box to see the candied sweets. He offers some to Collei who doesn’t hold back. “Did he say when he’ll stop by again?”

The girl frowns and shakes her head, swallowing down the sweets before talking, “He left after he handed these to me. He didn’t say when he would return.” Tighnari only nods and looks out his window. It’s already getting late, so he sends Collei off for the night.

Tighnari removes part of his clothing, only remaining in the hoodie and his pants before climbing up the thick branches of the trees. There’s a spot he always sits at to relax after a long day of dealing with the withering. It’s where he chooses to sit and meditate to not let his body get corrupted. The branches sway in the cold wind, lulling the Fennec fox to sleep.

The rustle of leaves, and the creak of the branch, notifies Tighnari of Cyno’s arrival before he speaks, “I thought I’d find you here.”

“You returned early,” Tighnari replies as he looks at his friend. “You usually show up a week later. What’s the occasion?”

Cyno sits beside Tighnari, shaking his head. “Nothing. I was still nearby and thought you’d be back by now.” The General looks at Tighnari, eyes turning soft. “You’re injured.”

Tighnari tucks his arm to his chest. “It’s nothing too bad. Just a few small scratches.”

“Surely you wouldn’t need a wrapping like that if you only had small scratches.” Tighnari can always count on Cyno to know him too well. The fox smiles and shakes his head while giving a small laugh.

“Nothing can ever get past the General Mahamatra, can it?”

Cyno shakes his head, “Especially if he’s your friend.” Right—friend. That’s all he’ll ever be. Tighnari can feel the thorns tighten around his lungs, making him wheeze a little. He tries so hard to hide it; however, the universe had it out for him. The petals are growing up his esophagus, scratching and itching to come out. Tighnari can barely focus on Cyno’s words because he’s too concentrated on choking the flowers down. Those forsaken white daffodils are turning red from his blood.

“Tighnari, are you—”

Tighnari coughs hard as he’s unable to hold it back anymore. The white petals come out in a bundle, choking him as he tries to breathe. Cyno panics and tries to get near, but Tighnari yells at him to stay away. He doesn't want Cyno to see him like this, so he runs off in fear. Tighnari locks himself in his little house and falls to his knees as he coughs and coughs until he passes out.

When he wakes up, he’s in his bed and not on the floor like he remembers. The flowers are gone, and Cyno is still here. Tighnari sits up quickly but the massive throb in his head has him laying back down.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Cyno asks, fists clenched.

“What does it matter?” Tighnari feels the pain in his chest returning.

“What do you mean ‘what does it matter’?” Cyno stands, upset. “You’re my friend. Probably the only one I’ll ever have! Why can’t I be concerned when you’re—you’re like this?”

Tighnari feels himself breaking. “Because you wouldn’t understand!” He gets up and ignores the pain all over his body.

“Then make me understand, Tighnari. Tell me what’s wrong and what this disease is. Flower petals full of blood? The flower petals you coughed up.”

Tighnari can feel his blood run cold. Cyno doesn’t know what it is. Tighnari knows that if he confesses and gets rejected, it will speed up the process and he could be dead by tonight. Maybe the next couple hours. How much time will he have left?

The thorns pierce his lungs more, making him whimper in pain and double over. Cyno is by his side, holding him so he doesn’t collapse on the floor. “You don’t—” he wheezes— “you don’t get it. You don’t know what will happen, but I do.” Tighnari’s feeling completely sick now as the flowers grow rapidly.

“What?” Cyno pulls Tighnari up to sit him down on the bed. “What will happen, Tighnari?”

Tighnari feels tears in his eyes and he coughs harshly, more daffodils falling onto his lap as he wheezes and chokes. Cyno didn’t know what to do. “It’s incurable. Only.. only true love can save me. If not that, it can be surgically removed, but it removes all my feelings for that person.”

“True love?” Tighnari starts to cry at Cyno’s words. “Who do you love?” Tighnari grits his teeth as the tears fall, finding the courage to look up into Cyno’s eyes. Then it hits the jackal. “Tighnari… I—” Here it comes. The end of his life. “I’m sorry. We can’t, I—I’m in love with someone else.”

The thorns are merciless. They curl around Tighnari’s lungs and heart, ripping the tissue and tearing him apart inside out. The fox cries out and falls, screaming as he squeezes his chest. Cyno panics and starts calling for help, trying to keep Tighnari conscious but the pain is unbearable.

When Tighnari wakes up, he’s in a pale white room. The lights are bright, there’s something beeping beside him, and he feels like he could finally breathe. Tighnari sits up and presses a hand to his head, hearing a small gasp.

“Master Tighnari!”

“Tighnari!”

The Fennec fox looks up to see Collei with Aether and Paimon. He blinks, confused. “What..? Where am I? What’s going on?” Collei cries and jumps into Tighnari’s arms, hugging him but being gentle. He holds the girl as he tries to figure this out.

“We heard the news that you were seriously injured and undergoing surgery while we were about to leave for Aaru Village.” Aether frowns.

“Yeah! We heard a few of the Akademiya students rambling on and on about you, and we came here right away!” Paimon looks on the verge of tears.

“Surgery?” It all starts to hit Tighnari; that’s why he can breathe better now. When he woke up, he didn’t think of Cyno at all. His heart doesn’t pound at the thought of him. “They.. removed it?”

Collei finally lets go of the hug. “I was s-so scared I was going to—to lose you!” Tighnari grabs a few tissues from his bedside to give to Collei. “Why did—didn’t you tell a-anyone?”

Tighnari didn’t answer. He just stares at his hands, numb. “I don’t.. know.” Tighnari presses his palms to his face, rubbing at his eyes until he saw stars. “Has Cyno showed up since?”

“Not at all.” Aether shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest.

“The doctor explained to me what Hanahaki Disease was,” Collei says quietly. Her fists clench on her lap. “The General Mahamatra could’ve killed you by rejecting you.” Collei is bitter, her words stung like venom.

“I can’t force him to like me.” Tighnari shakes his head. “That means you have no reason to hate him. Things happen against us whether we like it or not.” Speaking about Cyno does nothing to his heart. His feelings really are gone, huh?

Collei looks as if she wants to say something but keeps her mouth shut. She hesitantly nods in agreement, though it looks as if she is still unhappy. Tighnari holds her hand, reassuring her that he really is okay. Aether stands and announces that he’ll be leaving to give them some time. He wishes him well, and Tighnari waves the traveler and Paimon goodbye. Collei licks her lips and looks up at her teacher.

“I knew,” she whispers. “I knew you had feelings for him, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Was I obvious?” Tighnari chuckles nervously.

“You don’t look at him like you do with everyone else. You laughed at his jokes despite them being unfunny—oh, I’m glad he’s not here to hear that.” Collei laughs a little, scratching her neck anxiously.

Tighnari looks at his palms, “I’ve been caught red-handed. Guilty.”

There’s a moment of silence before Collei speaks up again, “Do you.. know who he likes?”

“He never told me. After he rejected me, I passed out a couple minutes later from the disease.” Tighnari fixes his pillows and leans back since his chest was beginning to ache. “I don’t think I would even want to know.”

“Are your feelings really gone?”

Tighnari lays there, staring at the ceiling as he searches for something—anything. But nothing comes up. “Yes.” He’s not sad, however. It’s a breath of fresh air. Collei hesitantly goes to hold Tighnari’s hand and lays her head on the bed.

“I’m just glad that you’re still alive.” He may be alive, but is he happy? Tighnari just feels absolutely numb.

It’s been two years since then. Cyno hasn’t shown his face, and it does end up making Tighnari feel bad. Did he chase him away? Is he the reason Cyno never visits Collei anymore? Why did Cyno disappear physically but still send over sweets?

Tighnari always hands them off to Collei or the other forest rangers. He hasn’t had a single chocolate covered date since then.

As Tighnari wanders the forest in search of some resources for Collei’s medication, he hears a familiar rustle and quiet footsteps. He stands straight, his ear twitching before turning to face the one person he thought he’d never see again.

“Look who decided to show up.” Tighnari smiles, hands on his hips. “I’ve been wondering where you were.”

“You’re not mad?”

Tighnari shakes his head. “I have no reason to be. Although, I feel like Collei would be upset seeing you. Mind telling me why you went cold?”

Cyno lowers his hood; his hair is longer now, but he still looks the same as Tighnari remembers. “I thought you would hate me for.. yeah.”

“Hate you?” Tighnari laughs. “I have no reason to hate you. You must be tired from your trip, let me fix you some tea—”

“I don’t think I should stay,” Cyno cuts him off. “I hurt you, almost killed you—why are you being so hospitable?”

“You’re my friend.” Tighnari shrugs. “I won’t force you to stay, though. You can go if you really want to.”

Cyno stands there, dumbstruck. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I don’t have a fever.” Tighnari furrows his eyebrows. “Although, I was sneezing up a storm earlier. Maybe those were just allergies.”

“You don’t…” Cyno doesn’t finish his sentence, but Tighnari knows what he’s implying.

“Those are long gone, Cyno. Removed during surgery. I’m not going to throw up some meaningless flowers anymore.” Tighnari turns and looks up at the night sky, the moon shining through the leaves. “I made my peace. I’m happy now, so you shouldn’t have to worry about any of that.” Tighnari looks back at Cyno who gives him a small smile.

“I’ll stay for tea.” Tighnari gives him a smile in return, and they make their way to Tighnari’s home. They speak like old friends and catch up. The person Cyno was seeking to court was a beautiful dancer from Sumeru known as Nilou. Tighnari had heard of her name many times before. He doesn’t bring up the fact he hasn’t seen him in two years, Tighnari doesn’t want to guilt him. He’s just happy to see a friend.

Collei is by the door, listening and making sure that her teacher wasn’t crying or sounding sad. She dismisses all negative emotions because Tighnari is happy, so that means he isn’t affected by Cyno’s presence. The girl heads off quietly, going back to her own home for the night.

And when Cyno leaves, Tighnari feels a weight off his shoulders. They reconciled. He doesn’t know when Cyno will return, but he feels as if it won’t be anytime soon. Still, he feels free—unbound from chains of romance. Tighnari lays in bed that night and sleeps with a new form of peace lingering in the air.

[mosylufanfic]

5 Things That Remind Cassian He's Human (and one thing that makes him wish he wasn't)

Hi hello is time for more Sad Andor Reaction Fic? Yes I think yes

Spoilers for 1x11 I guess

5 Things That Remind Cassian He's Human (and one thing that makes him wish he wasn't) 

1. Blankets

The Narkinian says to them, "You look like shit, humans. Six hours to Niamos. Get some sleep." And he tosses them a couple of blankets.

For a moment Cassian doesn't know what to do with his. It hasn't been that long, but for all that time, sleep has been a matter of lying down on a hard bench and closing his eyes.

"Kriff," Melshi mumbles, spreading the blanket over himself, pulling his ragged and filthy feet under its protection. "Kriff."

He curls into one of the tattered seats in the back of the quadjump, but just before he shuts his eyes, Cassian sees tears in them. 

The blanket smells like old fish and it's riddled with holes, but it feels like the softest of feather pillows as Cassian wraps it around himself.

2. Food

When they wake, the Narkinians give them food, too. Some kind of dry biscuit. Stale and tough. Against all odds, it tastes like fish.

Melshi wolfs his biscuit and then has to lay down, holding his stomach and grimacing. Cassian eats his slowly and carefully, experiencing food with texture, weight, flavor. Even if all of them are bad. 

His stomach cramps too, shocked by something different than bland mush delivered in a tube. His jaws ache from the action of chewing and his throat from the effort of swallowing, but he welcomes all of it.

3. Clothes

The Narkinians drop down just outside of town and let them off with some farewell in their own language that could be "now get out of our sight" or "blessings upon you, strangers." It's hard to tell. 

It's not a far walk, and as they get further into the chilly and deserted town, it's obvious this is the off-season for Niamos. Cassian struggles with whether this is good or bad, but ultimately decides that it is what it is.

They steal some clothes off a line, tearing the flimsy, grimy, stained clothes from Narkina 5 off their body and chucking them into the sea. The new clothes are damp from washing and don't fit quite right, but they're better than the prison clothes, and less noticeable.

After he retrieves his money, they head out to get real clothes, ones that fit, from one of the hundreds of second-hand stalls around town, where gamblers down to their last chit trade in their extra clothes for a few more credits.

Unimpressed with the selection at their first stop, Melshi moves on to the next stall down the street, but Cassian picks through the racks until he finds things that suit him. 

The being running the stall gives him a bored look when he sets down pants, shoes, vest, shirt, belt, bag. "Fifty credits."

He almost hands it over, but even in a tourist trap like Niamos, that's too much for Maarva Andor's son to stomach. "For this shit? Ten."

"You picked it out, my fine son. Fine, I'll do you forty-five. Those shoes are in perfect condition."

"These shoes are older than I am," Cassian says. "Fifteen."

"Forty if you really feel like robbing a poor old shopkeep today."

He snorts. "Twenty-five and that's my final offer."

"You want the shirt off my back too?" They slap down his change and wave him away. 

There's something about the exchange that makes him intensely happy. 

He puts on the shoes immediately, barely pausing to brush sand and dirt from his filthy feet. He'll have to take them off when they find someplace to clean up.�� He put them on anyway.

They feel strange. Tight in some places, loose in others, and the insoles rubbing at his feet.

He stomps gently on the sidewalk and listens to the thud, and doesn't feel cold metal. Just the thickness of the soles. 

When he meets up with Melshi, the other man has put on shoes, too.

4. Privacy

There are beach showers, five minutes for a credit. They're supposed to get sand and salt off your skin. Cassian stands under the spray, face tilted into the water, and feels the walls around him. Just him. Not forty-nine other men standing beside and in front and behind.

The water shuts off and he stands considering whether he wants to give up another credit for more. He decides yes, and plugs it into the slot to get the water running again. He has no washcloth and no soap, but he uses his hands to scrub at the filthiest parts of his body.

He imagines his mother's voice, fond and scolding. Look at the state of you! Something hot burns at the corners of his eyes. 

He rarely allowed himself to think of her in prison, just like he rarely allowed himself to think of anything else outside the walls. Thinking of her now feels like a luxury on par with ragged blankets and second-hand clothes and cheap beach showers.

5. Names

"I need to make a call," he says to Melshi almost as soon as he walks out of the shower, his still-damp hair plucked by the wind, chilling his scalp. 

Melshi looks skeptical. "Sure that's the best idea?"

"I'll be careful. It'll be fine. I just - there's someone I need to talk - to get a message to. There's public comms up there." He jerks his chin. "Watch my back, would you?"

Melshi shakes his head, clearly still in doubt, but humors him. 

Hearing anyone's voice from Ferrix, even Xan's, makes his throat knot up. He whispers to disguise his voice and also because the knot is so big he can't speak any louder.

"Cassian?"

His name. His own name. The skin of Keef Girgo, tourist and convict and prisoner, falls further behind.

"No names," he said, not entirely meaning it, but trying to remember that he had to be careful. "Tell Maarva I'm okay. Tell her I'm thinking about her. She'd be proud of me."

He wants to tell the whole thing. Kino echoing his own words back to him over the intercom, the yells of the men breaking out, the thunder of bare feet on metal decks and the Imperials with their hands on their heads. 

He wants to tell his mother that he’d changed his mind, after arguing with her that rebellion was stupid and would get them killed and that she should come with him. And she turned him down.

He wants to tell his mother he rebelled.

But they don't have the time and he doesn't particularly want Xan to know first because he'd tell the whole town, and his mother should hear it first. So he finishes up, "Tell her I'm thinking about her. And that I'll get back as soon as I can. Can you remember that?"

"Cass, hang on," Xan says, his voice weirdly solemn.

He can't hang on, he doesn't have the time, Xan just needs to pass on the message - 

"Cass, I'm sorry. Your mother's dead."

+1. Grief

It's like a stone dropped from high up, crashing through the top of his head, slamming all the way through to the bottom of his feet, leaving him shredded in between.

He barely understands the rest of the conversation - she wasn't taking her medicine, her heart gave out, the Daughters are looking after her, funeral's tomorrow, I'm sorry, Cass, I'm sorry.

He ends the call and stands hanging on to the public comm booth, the wind off the sea battering at him, howling in his ears, until he feels like he's going to tip over onto his face.

When did it happen? When he was asleep? When he was working away at one of the endless pieces of machinery? When he was sitting in that hallway watching Ulaf's body cool? When he was holding a gun to the guards' heads? When he was crashing into the bitter cold water and swimming for shore? 

Did it matter?

Your mother's dead.

For one long frozen moment, he wants to be back in prison, locked away from everything, told what to do and when to do it, a mindless drone with no heart to break. 

He should have known. He should have felt something. Don't you feel a punch to the ribs? Don't you feel a tooth breaking out of your mouth? But he'd felt nothing.

He should be used to this. He’s lost three parents already. But he isn’t.

One step, two, the shock of his shoes hitting concrete rattling up through his body. He lurches from foot to foot, not walking so much as catching himself from falling, over and over again. 

"You got through?" Melshi asks him. "It's okay?"

He looks away, to the sea, lying on instinct. "Yeah, yeah. Everything okay."

Melshi says some more things, but they disintegrate into buzzing in his ears. He tries to think of his mother, in her bed maybe, eyes closed, face slack, heart still. Some of the Daughters washing her body. Sewing her into her shroud. Riding away from the house on the salvage loader, decked with what withered greenery Ferrix could offer this time of year, that he’d seen carry so many other shrouded bodies. Her friends and neighbors pausing in their work to witness her passage, faces solemn, hands folded. Her son not among them.

It wouldn't go. The holo in his head wouldn't run. 

How could Maarva Andor be gone?

"How many made it out alive?" Melshi asks him.

And before he forces himself to remember what they've been through, and what they'd talked about in the long walk into town, Cassian lets himself fall into the thought: Nobody. 

Nobody makes it out alive. 

Isn't that the way life works?

FINIS