#anyway. i need to go sit in the rain or something and ponder

[pommatre]

I dont think i actually process loss 🤔

[rqnvindr]

fountain of tears

pairing: neuvilette x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff/comfort

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: neuvilette finds you standing by the fountain, alone the rain after an argument. his hidden turmoil can only be solved by hearing your voice again, tender, and unfiltered.

warnings: archon quest spoilers, arguments

a/n: I HAVEN'T POSTED ANY WRITING IN AGES BUT I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR MY OTTER HUBBY! enjoy!!

--

"this is pointless. i'm out."

your words wound neuvilette, the pain shooting deep into his bones. they ring over and over again in his conscious, louder than any vibration that had ever emanated from his cane to resume order during a trial. he sits in his office trying to work, but his thoughts don't subside, not one bit.

he ponders, staring at the stacks of papers in front of him, documents regarding cases that needed to be reviewed in due time. but not today. the amount of time he had in between today's working hours and the next trial reassured him that he could hyper-fixate on the last thing you said to him before storming out the door.

it's strange that he isn't worried for your safety as much as he is over the feelings rooted in your actions. the chief justice knows that humans are more fragile than those who have lived for eons. those who have experienced centuries of change were capable of adapting to different and unexpected circumstances through changing forms, and bestowing ancient powers of the past that contained the wisdoms and strength needed to guide them. he should be more concerned for where you could've possibly have gone within the last day. but he knows that you are also acquainted with a certain traveler that had recently arrived in fontaine and caused an uproar with the hydro archon in court already, everyone was. there's no way they could've left now, taking you with them on their travels. they still had unanswered questions left for lady furina. it is still a possibility though that you're at least staying with them, since you two were in good graces.

you weren't from fontaine though, and the image of you packing your bags and going home by yourself made him shiver. you did say you were heading "out" after all. he had to consider all of the possibilities.

neuvilette was new to human relationships. how long did it take for humans to draw the line? it varies for everyone, since they are given the freedom to dictate their personal connections to others to a certain degree. but how much was too much for you? when it came to you, he not only wanted to understand humans more, but also just you. he wanted to delve into all of your laughter, all of your worries, all of the sighs that escaped your pretty lips. to grasp it and memorize it all, was his greatest desire.

without you, he would basically lose his purpose for inserting himself into the realm of mortality. you already got him this far, and on top of that, he concluded that you were causing him to feel foreign emotions from removing yourself from his sight. even if it hurt, this was a test included in his journey that he had to endure.

but neuvilette does not want to face the predicament without a resolution. instead of wallowing, he decides to leave his office. he was already working overtime anyway, hoping to just drown in reading the same pages over and over again to keep himself grounded. was he always this sensitive? in his mind, he imagined the beings of the past looking down on him.

it's pouring rain when neuvilette steps outside. ah right. he doesn't need another reminder that his sorrows inconvenience the ordinary citizens of fontaine, who are just trying to make it to work on time, rush their loved ones to the doctor, and just go about their lives without the weather impeding on them. people barely carry umbrellas though, they're all accustomed to this and it's too unpredictable (at least for them it is).

he decides to start backwards, far away from the court of fontaine. he heads to the opera house first, and he finds you on the first try. how could he ever mistake you for someone else? you're the only person he has eyes for. especially when you're standing by the fountain of lucine, and carrying a distinct umbrella in a small crowd of people, most of whom appear to be flocked around the opera house's entrance, probably catching magic shows and other performances.

neuvilette is uneasy when he notices how close you're standing to the fountain. you're inevitably drawn to the grand structure that welcomes audiences from within the borders of the land and beyond to the renowned location. the spectacle that delivers the arts and the law all the same. but beneath its beauty lies danger that erases those who get too close. many fontainians had lost their lives from seeking the wonders of what lay beneath the waters that decorate and surround the hydro region itself. by wanting to delve deeper into it, they subsequently drowned, their lifeforce dissipating into the shackles of the streams. both the knowns and the unknowns of the primordial sea were sufficient reasons to express caution towards the lands waters, even if one was not a native who was subject to becoming one with their origins.

if you were to become the next victim, the rain would proceed to crash down and become one with the fountain in a continuous flow of precipitation. and then fontaine would be known as "the land of storms" rather than "the land of justice".

as he approaches the fountain, neuvilette's desire to pull you away and drag you back to him with no hesitation stirs. yet, it immediately dissipates when you turn your head, and give him what he guesses is a contemplative look. the white-haired man chooses his words carefully. giving you a lecture about the rumored dangers of the fountain's ability to dissolve human beings would only alarm you. he should use the rain as an excuse to find somewhere safer, if you still weren't ready to return to your shared residence.

"it-"

"i know. you're going to ask why i'm standing out here as if it isn't pouring rain." neuvilette barely gets a syllable out before you take the words right out of his mouth. you guys always had a habit of finishing each other's sentences, and even in a moment as anxiety-inducing as trying to make amends when you were mad at him, his heart melts. goodness, why did you have to be so lovely?

"if i were to let the rain impede everything, i guess i'd be a shut-in." you shrug. "it's been raining non-stop for the past couple of days. and no one seems to question it, so i just go along with it as if it's completely normal for it to be bright and sunny one day, and then cloudy and rainy the next day."

when you finish your thoughts, neuvilette still waits for you to continue. he was somewhat relieved that you were able to talk to him normally, but knew that there had to be more you had to say. were you going to officially end things between you two? say that you needed more time to think about the state of your relationship? he wasn't going to talk you out of anything, or start a debate. he respected your decision no matter what, even if it were to sting, he had to hear it. and the conversation had to go somewhere if he also wanted to deliver his side as well.

"i have heard some of the locals say though, that whenever it rains in fontaine, it is because the hydro dragon is crying." you say, as you gaze up at the sky. "i don't know if you have ever heard of it, but if such a tale were to be true, then i wonder what he could be going through for it to be pouring rain every other day."

neuvilette hopes he hid how quickly he blinked. normally he was good at hiding his reactions to hearing this "legend". although he never wanted to hide anything from you, the truth behind the mysterious precipitation was something he hadn't had the best opportunity to tell you about.

"yes, this is an old legend indeed. i often hear parents and caretakers telling this to children, whenever it's too wet to play outside." this was as much as the chief justice could water it down. he really did not want to lie before approaching a sensitive topic.

"as much as i would love to continue hearing the knowledge you have extracted from your time here, i have come here with another objective." neuvilette says. "i wanted to apologize for upsetting you. i have also been worried about you for the past few days. you do not have to disclose your whereabouts from the period in which we were apart, but i am happy that you're safe."

"it's alright, really." you reply calmly. "i was also in the wrong for storming out like that and not communicating with you. i was pretty upset, yeah, but i should've just told you that. i'm sorry for being immature and leaving you in the dark."

neuvilette notices tears streaming down your eyes. as your head tilts downward, they drop to the ground and blend in with the rain droplets. instead of offering you his handkerchief, he gently caresses both sides of your face with his gloved hands. you lean into his touch more, until you're wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace, letting your umbrella drop to the ground. he reciprocates, stiffly at first, but then holds you with no intentions of letting you go.

you're no longer choking back sobs, and then the sky clears up as the rain comes to a stop. you pull away from the hug to observe the sky, staying connected with your hands intertwined this time.

"wow...the hydro dragon must have been distraught watching us as if we were his new favorite play or something." you laugh.

neuvilette chuckles, knowing that you would of course find the occurrence to be a mere coincidence. "it seems that he must be quite fond of you, my dear."

"well, i'm already taken so i guess he will have to stick to me being his favorite character." you shrug obliviously with a smile.

as your lover, neuvilette has adjusted to being more vulnerable with you. you had seen the good and the bad sides of him, the latter especially during the latest argument that the two of you had now cleared up. and even then, you still let him back in. he doesn't have to worry about baring his entire soul to you now, and will slowly navigate you through his past and identity as the hydro dragon, who entered human society as the iudex. the vulnerable figure whose emotions affect the weather, and struggles to connect with others. you're the one worthy of knowing the truth though, and he makes a promise to himself to never hide anything from you from here on out.

[sweetrottenendings]

"Plea"

Lawrence Oleander x GN!Reader

I might make a part 2 to this idk i just luv my plant wife.

SFW, one single swear word, 899 words. You wanna go on a date with Lawrence. Maybe a little OOC? Still figuring out how i wanna portray him in my writing.

Once again MDNI i promise you this fandom isn't for you.

-

It’s been a long time since you’ve had fresh air- real fresh air, not just Lawrence opening the window a smidge after your pleading. Despite all the greenery littering his apartment (or- your home, the cage you’ll never leave.) it feels as if the oxygen has been sapped entirely. All that is left is the musk, the stench of rot and the way its salt infects your lungs. Is there a chemical mixture of salt and carbon dioxide? Probably, but it likely isn’t what you’re sucking in at the moment.

Sometimes however, it brings you comfort with the familiarity. Stockholm syndrome set in long ago, so long ago that you struggle to remember the moment it hit. You don’t think you’d have it any other way, you love Lawrence despite the revolting relationship that’s been curated in the space- you’re thinking about the air again.

The delicate sound of trickling water sounds out, Lawrence is watering the plants. He’s meticulous, as he is with everything he does. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he dictates the exact amount of water each plant requires. It’s moments like these where you get to observe him in his entirety. The way his form hunches, blonde hair that occasionally clings to his neck, bright blue eyes that used to haunt your nightmares but now soothe your dreams. If only there were a universe where you had met normally, where Lawrence wasn’t as disturbed as he is- and you could be a normal couple. One that goes on cute dates to the park, snuggles together at night when the rain gushes outside, loves each other like normal people and don’t prod at each others spinal cords-

You should stop that thought there.

A park date, you imagine that would be something he could enjoy- considering his affinity for nature. Perhaps he could even enjoy it in this universe? He loves you, he really does- in his own fucked up way. Plus you really, desperately need fresh air. You need to inhale it as hard as you can, to feel alive for once (But do you really want to feel alive?) compared to the hollow death you feel now. Lawrence would never take you out around people however, there will always be that part of him that worries you’ll run and abandon what you’ve created together. (You never will, he’s all you need.)

What about during the night? He could take you to any spot he chooses, hide you from anyone he sees- even tie you to him, surely you could make it look inconspicuous. It would be nice too, the weather during the night is pleasant and far more suited to what he’s used to. He might get angry though, he wouldn’t kill you but maybe he’d finally go through with the threat to cut off your limbs. After pondering for a moment, you decide it’s worth the risk.

Your voice cuts him out of the zone he’s found himself in- he turns sharply towards you. He isn’t as trembly as he used to be, now confident in his power over you. “Lawrence-” Your voice is soft, the way you’ve trained it to be, “I have a request…”

He stares at you, unblinking.

“This is t-the biggest thing I will ever ask of you, and I won’t be upset or surprised if you say no.” It’s not like your feelings matter anyway, but you hope it may soothe any anger. He places down the watering can with a soft sound and makes his way to you. You haven’t been tied up in a very long time, but sometimes you sit yourself in the same chair from the start- it’s almost comforting. He kneels down to your eye level with a stern stare, and nods- prompting you to continue.

“I-I want to go outside-” He inhales sharply “-with you…” He exhales. “A date, in a park maybe, during the night so there isn’t anyone around…” You give him a sweet smile, as loving as you can, “...it’d be just us, like it’s meant to be.” he continues to stare, blue eyes burning into your soul and eating whatever confidence you had left- jaws wide and unrelenting. He must be angry, surely, he’s going to cut your limbs off and tie you back up, you’ve destroyed everything!-

“Okay…” You blink.

“Okay?”

He nods “We… we can go out.” You feel your heart swell with the most joy you’ve felt in your life, it bursts at the seams like you’ve just gorged yourself at a buffet. You want to hug him- you reach your trembling arms out in hopes he understands, and he does. Taking you into his arms, soft yet oddly strong for someone like him, he wraps you into his being. A hand comes up to stroke your hair in a soothing gesture- you didn’t realise you had started crying. You nuzzle your face deep into his chest, a grateful mantra pouring from your forever scarred lips. He tilts your head up to face him- a warm smile splayed across his face, filled with nothing but love for you, only you, forever you.

His voice is the gentlest you’ve ever heard from him,

“If you try to run, I will kill you.”

You smile back,

“Good, I love you Lawrence…”

He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You know he loves you.

[daffodil-mania]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader. Hurt/comfort, fluff. This fic includes swearing and graphic descriptions of violence.

Author’s notes: This is my first fic; please be gentle (or don’t; up to you). I started this at like,,,, 5AM a week ago and have been slowly chipping away at it ever since. For context this takes place sometime between S1 and S2, although the time honestly does not matter at all. Might write more fics; might not. Who knows? Anyways, enjoy!

—

It always starts the same way.

He always flops down onto the motel bed, sighing deeply and closing his eyes as his limbs stretch out over the mattress. He inhales, burying his face in the pillow that your scent still clings to, hiding a small smile as he does. The shower’s on and he debates sneaking in and joining you. He rolls over, pondering. He stays like that for a few seconds, arms folded behind his head when he feels it.

Drip.

Something wet falls on the side of his nose. His brow wrinkles in confusion as it slowly slides down over his cheekbone towards his hair. Without opening his eyes, he wipes it away. It was raining pretty hard earlier; he can tell the ceiling has been cheaply and improperly repaired several times. They’re always shitty and damaged in places like this, no wonder it leaks…

Drip.

This time a droplet lands on his right eyelid. His frown deepens as he wipes it off and opens his eyes to look at his fingers. It takes his brain a second to process what he’s seeing.

His stomach sinks. He whips his head up to the ceiling as bile rises in his throat. And there you are. It seems you never even made it into the shower; you’re still in your clothes from earlier. Jeans and a white tee shirt. Your hair is spread around your head like a halo. Your mouth is open, your expression one of fixed horror. You’re looking right at him but you don’t see him, your gaze a million miles away, comprehending something too horrible for words. As he registers the weeping red gash over your womb, your eyes snap to his and he knows you see him now. He’s right there. So close. You start to mouth his name when you erupt in flames. His shouts merge with your sobbing shrieks. All he can do is sit and watch helplessly as you burn. The stench of smoke and smoldering flesh starts to fill his lungs, choking him. And then someone grips him tight, maybe Dean, calling for him to wake up, wake up—

And he does. But it’s not Dean holding him; it’s you. Sam gapes at you, panting hard as sweat and tears roll down his face. You’re saying something but he doesn’t hear it. He surges forward and wraps his arms around you in an attempt to calm his panicked mind and assure himself that you’re real. You’re here and you’re safe and—

“—Sam, baby, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re okay, we’re safe, honey, we’re safe, Sam please look at me—” He manages to peel himself out of your embrace, his eyes taking in every inch of your perfect, unharmed face. Your scared eyes are wet with worried tears, brow knitted in concern. One of his hands comes up to cup the side of your face and you eagerly press a comparatively tiny one of your own against it, holding it in place. “You’re okay,” he exhales. You nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He bobs his head in a nod and wraps his arms around you again. Your arms instantly go around him, one over his shoulders to cradle his head and one across his back. You start to stroke his back as he relaxes, nuzzling his wet face into your neck.

You break the silence by asking if he wants to talk about his dream. Sam murmurs his dissent into your neck. You nod again. “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. What do you need right now?” You inquire quietly. “Jus’ need this.” He responds, his voice laden with sleep and sadness. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. He wishes desperately that he could talk to you about his dream but he just can’t. Maybe one day… but not now. He isn’t strong enough now to tell you how paranoid the dreams make him. How guilty. Because you’ve replaced Jessica on that ceiling and while he loves you a part of him still can’t let her go. And the anger… the hopelessness… it’s almost too much for him.

But the safety he feels in your arms makes those feelings vanish almost as quickly as they come… almost. He’s calmed down significantly but there’s still that gnawing anxious feeling in his gut. Sam pushes against it, willing it to go away, and wishes that the two of you could stay like this forever; tangled together between soft sheets and even softer I love yous. He doesn’t have to think when the two of you are like this; he can just let go for a minute. Well, except for you, of course. He won’t ever let you go.

He pulls you closer against him somehow and you let out an “oof” in feigned protest. You maneuver the two of you around a bit so that you’re both on your sides, his toned stomach pressed against your soft belly, legs comfortably intertwined. You wrap your arms around him and now its Sam’s turn to rest his chin on the top of your head. He wraps his arms around you; one snakes up and around your back so that his hand rests on your shoulder blade, the other is slung around your waist. A few minutes pass quietly in the darkness before you tilt your head back to look up at him. “Feeling better?” He nods, and cranes his neck so that he can gently press a kiss to your lips. A lump begins to form in his throat when you kiss him back, blocking all of the words he wants to stay from bubbling up and out of his mouth. So instead, you speak for him. “I love you, too.” You whisper softly. He presses your foreheads together, closing his eyes gently as he does. You rub soothing circles into his back and that coupled with the exhaustion that now rests heavily on him starts to drag him into a (hopefully) peaceful slumber.

As he starts to fade out of consciousness he can vaguely make out the sound of you humming. He forces himself to focus for a second and recognizes the tune; it’s A Mamas & The Papas song that you told him your mother used to sing to you as a lullaby. You’ve hummed it to him a few times before on nights like these. Satisfied, he relaxes, and falls into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

—

Author’s notes: Attached is the version of the song I referenced/borrowed the fic name from. I always found it slightly creepy when I was younger (and still kind of do, tbh). Check it out :)

[lamnwar]

dhfjgj ok so i have never done an ask before but your writing is just*chef’s kiss* and idk i’m sitting in the depths of my affections for kagami rn and basically can you give us a kagami x fem! reader fluffy smut scenario?

i was honestly obsessed with your sfw piece “it just makes sense” esp the way you described him looking up at the sky in the beginning and thenbROUGHT IT BACK at the end was just agdjfshkfg poetry

kinda just want to have a pwp moment with a first meeting context.

bUT if this is too big an ask, i’m kinda craving that vibe, even if you could bless us with some shmexy crumbs following “it just makes sense” i’d be elated.

HIIII OMG SO SO SORRY I TOOK WAY TOO LONG FOR THIS ONE, I HAVE NO EXCUSE 😭 I was really excited to write this one, so I hope you're still looking for some love for Kagami bc I lowkey unlocked my affection for him writing this lmaooo anyways I hope you enjoy it <33 it's kinda accidental but I'm trynna make up for the tardiness by publishing on Valentine's Day so yeah 💕

Till The Rain Stops // Kagami Taiga x Fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

Context: in which the heavy rains get you to meet a beautiful stranger. All characters are 18+ for plot purposes.

Warnings: LISTEN it's kinda fluffy till I got feral so yeah, some fondling, nipple play, slight manhandling, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex (never have sex unprotected with a stranger irl please 😭), Kagami's big 🧎🏾‍♀️, he cums on reader's chest 🤭

“Shit” you swear under your breath, as you are greeted by an unexpected deluge just minutes after leaving your building.

You look up, startled by the millions of drops falling on you, drenching your entire body while you ponder how you’ve never figured that it was going to rain today. Maybe it’s because you’ve been out of touch with reality lately – it happens sometimes when things get overwhelming. So here you are, cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella with you, and realizing that you don’t have many options but to find shelter somewhere dry. You run, protecting the content of your bag by holding it close to your chest. The sounds of your shoes in the puddles is barely heard over the violent thudding of the rain on all solid surfaces around. Evidently, at the sight of the first building on your path, you rush to enter it.

And that is when you see him. The squeak of his shoes on the wooden floor of the gymnasium follows each of his quick movements, till he jumps, time stopping momentarily as he reaches the hoop. You stare, stars in your eyes, like he is some weird invention of your imagination. But when he lands, you are brought back to reality. You silently watch as he dribbles around, swiping away the sweat of his face. He eventually stops, removing his shirt and throwing it to the side court. Except that the drench fabric lands at your feet and you both let out a gasp when your eyes meet. For what seems like an eternity, he stares at you, thick eyebrows torn at the sight of a complete stranger, wet from head to toes, standing here with these startled eyes.

“Do you need something?” his voice resonates in the empty gymnasium.

You can hear the rain drumming against the metallic roof, and you figure that you should say something.

“I uh… ran here, got caught in the rain” you explain.

His eyes don’t leave you for a second; you’re curious as to why at first, before looking down to see how your clothes cling to your body, exposing your figure to the gaze of a man you have yet to know the name of. Embarrassment gains you immediately, even more so when you realize that you have nothing to hide behind. He steps forward, and you realize just how big he is. As he stands a mere metre away from you, you are faced directly with his bare chest on which drops of sweat glimmer like he’s covered in glitter. As awkward as the situation is, you can’t ignore the sight before you; he is sculpted like a Greek god, the define lines of his muscles hypnotizing. Around his neck hangs a silver ring, and you ashamedly imagine tugging on it to pull his face closer to yours.

“God, you’re fucking wet” he remarks.

And upon hearing his voice again, your attention deviates to his face. You know that you have no idea who he is – there is no way you’d forget a face like his. His traits are of such finesse, a perfect mix of sharp angles and soft highlights, a raw beauty that makes you wonder, once again, if you are not hallucinating.

“I’m sorry to bother” you finally speak, “I just didn’t expect the rain so… can I stay here till I dry a bit and the situation calms down outside?”

“That ain’t my gymnasium, do as you please.”

His casual tone takes you aback. You haven’t really focused on his words ever since he’s opened his mouth, but you now take note of his tone; he talks like you’re acquainted and while this would have usually annoyed you, it just feels so natural coming from him. And you cannot hold yourself in any position to judge, not when you look like you do and more importantly, when you’ve been gawking at his shirtless torso all along instead of holding a conversation with him.

“Would you know where I can dry myself off?” you ask, looking down at the puddle forming at your feet.

“Oh yeah, you better do that” he raises his eyebrows.

From a gesture of the hand, he invites you to follow him, and you do so silently. You watch his back as he guides you, the size of it making you feel a bit bothered. You can feel some thoughts marching in your head, and knowing their nature, you chase them away. What kind of creep would you be, thinking about marking this gorgeous back with your nails while he thrusts into you? You cough, feeling terrible for being so ridiculously desperate for a man you barely know.

“I’m Kagami Taiga, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Taiga. His name echoes in your head, sounding pretty. It fits him, you ponder, matching the energy you get from him.

“We haven’t met no, but it’s nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself back, small talk issuing from your introduction till he opens the door of what you figure to be the lockers. His back stands in the middle of the room, and he invites you in.

“Got a towel hanged there” he points at the hangers, “and I don’t know about your clothes, but I think I might have an extra t-shirt for you.”

“You- you don’t have to!”

“Up to you girl, but…” he gets a black shirt out of his bag “if you want something warm and dry.”

He stands in front of you, a big hand holding out the piece of clothing to you. The proximity makes you gulp; he’s intimidating, yet incredibly attractive. And when your fingers graze his as you take his t-shirt, you get a whiff of his perfume – a mix of his natural scent and his deodorant. It doesn’t help your case: he smells heavenly. These thoughts rush in again: what would you do to get his scent on you? what would you do to be encased under his perfect body? Once again, you chase them away the best as you can, refocusing on the present moment.

“Thank you then, Taiga.”

“Taiga? Are we on first name basis already?” he smirks at you.

“Oh! Where are my manners…”

“Hey chill, I couldn’t care less. Call me what you want. Anyway, my name sounds good coming out of your mouth.”

On these words, he leaves the lockers and closes the door behind him, leaving you totally flustered. Come to think of it, he certainly doesn’t mean much by what he’s said – not only does he seem casual in his language, he’s also straightforward. But you can’t help the way you feel; having a hot guy saying that he likes the way you call his name isn’t a common occurrence (well, not as much as you’d like it to be). But again, you figure that you should keep your calm. It isn’t really like you now, is it? Maybe it’s the rain making you think and feel like a hormonal teenager, who knows.

So, you stand there in your underwear, patting your body dry. Your mind cannot get off your new encounter, not when it looks like it comes right off a rom-com. The only thing missing was the rose petals falling around Kagami when you first saw him, although you’d argue it felt like it. At the mere thought of him, you notice a heat in your chest, and you wonder if that may be a love at first sight situation. The thought is crazy – you are more of a realist, and as little as you understand of love, the idea of falling in love upon seeing someone for the first time is fairly crazy. So maybe it’s not love per se, but rather a deep state of infatuation, where the single fact that you are wearing his t-shirt makes you giddy, and you wonder how it’d feel to wake up in his clothes every morning, a piece of him always with you. It’s all crazy daydreams, making you feel out of yourself but at the same time, you’d argue that you can’t be blamed, because you deeply believe that the man you’ve met only minutes ago is objectively the kind to sweep anyone off their feet.

It doesn’t help your case, when you leave the lockers and see him practice his shooting, his form capturing your eyes. His movements are precise and elegant, in complete contrast with his force and the strong muscles that activate as he makes his shots. You are in awe, witness of something great, and questions flood your mind as you stand on the side court, hypnotized by him.

Who the hell is Kagami Taiga?

He goes to catch the ball under the nest after perfectly putting it in, strong hand dribbling it on the polished wooden floor, the sound echoing the beat of your own heart. It’s intriguing that you’ve never met him before. The gymnasium is just minutes away from your place, on your way to most places – whether it be the convenience store or the nearest bus station. You’re used to seeing people walk in and out of it, local teams coming for practice, or neighbours going in for their daily dose of physical activity. But not once have you seen him, and it can’t be that you’ve never noticed, because he’s definitely not the kind to go unnoticed. His fiery aura alone forces you to look his way, capturing all your senses and getting you to pay attention to nothing but him. And now that you see him practice, you note that he is not an amateur like most people coming to play here. With such abilities, he’s either a professional or just a pure genius.

“D’you ever play?” his voice resonates in the empty gymnasium.

It takes you out of your trance, and you look at him, meeting his raised eyebrows.

“I did real quick in P.E. but that’s just how far my history with basketball goes” you reply in all honesty.

He smiles, eyes deviating to the windows for a second. The rain hasn’t stopped, nor has it calmed down. You sigh at this vision, although some part of you wishes it never stops so you get to stay longer with Kagami.

“Wanna play? To pass time, you know” he proposes.

A heat gains your cheeks; it’s cute, you think, and you’d be dumb to not take the opportunity. You nod, trotting to join him on the court. You smile looking up at him.

“You’ll have to show me, sir.”

“Sir?”

“I ought to show you respect if you are to instruct me the ways of basketball.”

He raises an eyebrow before chuckling. The ball under his arm bounces to you, and you catch it in both your hands. You look at it, thinking about how it was looking smaller in his hand. You dribble a bit, getting use to the ball and they you look back at him, nicely waiting for instructions.

“Shoot” he says.

He stands in the sideline, hands on his hips as you suddenly feel nervous. Something about him observing your every move is scary, the thought of is judgement being cast on you, making your heartbeat faster. But you shake the feeling away as best as you can, getting into position and letting the ball fly to the basket. It bounces on the hoop before falling right in his hand.

“Are you going to correct my form?” you ask as he walks back to you.

“Do you want me to?”

“I… wouldn’t mind.”

You swear you see him blush, though it might just be the physical activity that makes the blood rush all over his body. Regardless, you feel his warm body as he comes closer, placing the ball in your hand and then standing behind you. It takes all of you in, your mind uncapable of focusing on anything else but the proximity between you. And when his fingers reach your arms, placing them as they should, you can hardly breathe.

“Now, I need you to bend your knees a bit” he speaks near your ear.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes open wide upon the realization that you’ve spoken out loud. You can’t get yourself to face him, or move a single bit, petrified that he’s heard you. Yeah, it could have been worse – you’ve certainly thought of worse ever seen you got here. But still, the way that word came out of your mouth, like a desperate whimper, is enough to translate the way you’ve been feeling about him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

His candidness surprises you – is he totally unaware of his charms? You can seize the opportunity to act like nothing happened, or… or you can get something more fun out of it.

“You’re cute Taiga, do you know that?”

You’ve never been so bold, and it feels thrilling to speak your mind rather than internally struggling with whatever goes on in your head.

“Cute? I’ve been told I’m a lot of things… but never cute” he reflects. “How am I cute?”

“Well,” you breath, “it’s cute that you can’t tell why being near you makes me swear out loud.”

Your fingers tighten around the ball, anticipating his answer.

“Oh?” he takes a moment, and feel him stand straight behind you before another, “oh” comes out, this one sounding more like a sound of realization.

He reaches behind you, taking you in an embrace for a quick second that feels like eternity before his hands catch yours on the ball.

“You’re a weird one” he remarks, “gawking at me and acting shy one time, and telling me I’m cute and making a move the other.”

“Listen” you try to justify yourself, “I have to make myself memorable, for the next time we meet.”

“Is that so?”

You gulp; his voice sounds so close to you that simply imagining the little space between your bodies makes you weak to the knees. You try to keep a semblance of composure, just for your own dignity, but it’s hard when he’s pressing at your back, bare skin emitting so much heat that you feel it through the fabric of the t-shirt you’re wearing.

“Well, I’m glad that you like me that much” he continues, “my weird one.”

“Should I take it as compliment? That I’m your weird one?”

“I imply that you’re mine. Isn’t it enough?”

You drop the ball, turning around to face him; and that is when it strikes you how close he is. Just centimetres away, his tall body towering over you as he stares, wondering what your next move is.

“I don’t know, I could be yours, yeah, but you should make me first.”

“Sure thing, how d’you want me to proceed?”

He glances at the window – the rain is nowhere near to stop, if anything, it’s pouring even more. The two of you are bound to stay in this gymnasium alone for an unpredictable amount of time. Sure, he has an umbrella, and the two of you could venture outside, confronting the ruthless drops till you both get home. But in comparison to the warmth you’re currently experiencing, it’d be foolish to break the moment, for you don’t know when another occasion as such will ever come.

“Start by giving me a kiss” you finally say, gathering all your confidence in that simple request.

He raises an eyebrow, a glimpse of something appearing in his red irises before he lets a short, cheeky smirk cross his lips as he comes closer. As the distance between you reduces, your mind runs at a thousand kilometres per hour. All of the sudden, you realize what is going on, how you’ve asked for something that you truly want and you’re about to get it. It has never occurred to you before that it can be that simple – you’ve seen him, you’ve immediately taken a liking to him, and now here you are.

His lips are soft against yours as his hands go to pull you closer by the waist. You reach for his face, fingers taking in every inch of his skin, and you can’t help but smile. The way he holds you and kisses you is heavenly – dreamlike, just like him. And it takes your eyes opening again for you to realize, once again, that you aren’t hallucinating. Under the sound of the rain, you kiss him again, more and more hungry for him, figuring that you shouldn’t try to rationalize what is happening. Sure, you are not a believer of love at first sight, but you can’t deny that everything about Kagami Taiga keeps pulling you in, like you want to be made for him, and him only.

“Now what?” he says against your lips.

You look at him, in search of an answer yourself. You could stop everything at this very instant, which would be the sensical thing to do all things considered – you barely know the guy, and a public gymnasium isn’t the most romantic place ever. But at the same time, the tension between you is unbearable, and not listening to your deepest instincts feels wrong.

“Have you ever had sex in the locker room, Taiga?”

The basketball player does not expect you to reply to his question by another one, much less one like that. But this time, he doesn’t take long to connect the dots and understand your intentions.

“I’m about to” he replies, fingers intertwining with yours as he takes you to the locker room.

You laugh as you follow him, feeling like two teenagers about to make a silly mistake, and in some ways, maybe this is what it is. But you couldn’t care less, not when his lips find yours again as he pulls you up, legs wrapping around his waist. You make a mess of his hair, fingers tracing down to the silver chain around his neck before you get to the ring, pulling on it. He gasps, surprised by how you tug him closer and you feel his grip on your bottom get stronger. He almost stumbles, landing on the bench.

“Do I sweep you off your feet, big boy?” an amused smile painted on your face.

“You fucking do” he retorts.

You laugh softly, enjoying the way he looks at you. It is so warm, so humane. The man that you’ve thought to be a miracle upon first entering this gymnasium is right here, so close to you that it is impossible to doubt his existence. You can’t deny it, not when he lifts his t-shirt off your body to leave kisses on your neck and chest. Not when he removes your bra and swears under his breath at the sight of your gorgeous tits. Not when his big hands fondle your breasts, and he goes to suck on your harden nipples to get the sweetest moans out of your lips.

“Fuck, Taiga” you breathe out.

“What is it, my pretty one?”

The name he calls you by makes you waver, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“I’m your pretty one now, huh? No longer weird?”

“You’re both, how about that?”

“I’ll take that, but can your pretty one get some love down there now? I’m growing impatient here!”

He laughs at your straightforwardness, while you yourself are still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’ve actually spoken these words without hesitation. It amazes you, how he manages to put you at such ease, like you’ve always known each other. Yet, you sit here on his lap, curious as ever to discover everything about him because despite the way you feel, you are still strangers. It’s a sort of excitement that takes over you when he grabs you again like you weight nothing, then lays you on the bench. The cold surface against your hot skin gives you goosebumps, but you cannot care less – your attention is entirely focused on the man removing your pants, followed by your underwear, an ecstatic look painting his face at the sight of your cunt.

“Shit, you’re so fucking hot” he outright remarks, hands roaming on your thighs.

You feel blood rush to your face, part of you embarrassed to be examined by the eyes of the handsome stranger, part of you extremely aroused by the prospect of what is to come.

“Can I taste you?”

“Please” you nod eagerly.

He doesn’t waste a minute, spreading your legs further apart and getting a comfortable place in between them. Half-lidded eyes look up to you while he marks your skin of his lips, hot breath fanning on your erected clitoris. You bite your lips, keeping in the sounds that menace to come out; he’s barely done anything yet, but you are already melting, the simple sight of him between your legs being its own aphrodisiac. However, you cannot keep your silence when he takes a first laps, separating your lips to have access to your clitoris. He reaches the bundle of nerves, sucking on it languidly, though you feel that he is holding back his true hunger. Something almost animalistic animates the red-haired boy, each stroke of his skilled tongue leaving you speechless – only moans and incoherent mumbles leave your throat.

“Taste so fucking good” he groans as he feists on you.

You can’t even voice out an answer, hips desperately bucking forward to communicate your needs. He is, there again, quick to understand, and his strong arms wrap around your legs as he pulls you closer, keeping his hold as he buries himself in the heavenly warmth of your pussy. He’s messy, hungry, insatiable. You whine – it feels like too much already, and you are just seconds away from your orgasm. Your thighs clench, the knot in your stomach unravelling as you bend against the surface of the bench.

He barely has the time to get out of the embrace of your legs that you pull his face towards yours, desperately kissing him, getting the bittersweet taste of you on your tongue. You’re in a state that is unknown to you, wanting – needing – everything of him. Kagami Taiga has you so desperately in need for him, that your hands rush to the band of his basketball shorts, big doe eyes looking up at him as you beg:

“I want to suck your dick, please!”

This time, Taiga looks surprised by your eagerness. Though he’s appreciated the honesty you’ve demonstrated lately, seeing you so hungry for him takes him aback. The surprise, however, isn’t unwelcomed. As a matter of fact, he looks at you with stars in his eyes – elated that a girl like you, can want him so much. A simple stranger, yet one that has already turned his life around in the few hours you’ve got to spend together.

“Fuck, I can’t refuse shit to my pretty one” he smiles, fingers caressing your cheeks.

You are quick to free his hard cock of all fabric, taking an instant to admire it. Its size is impressive – though proportional, considering how tall and large he is; and from the way it looks, proud and beautiful, you can only crave it more. Your hands wrap at the base and give a few slow strokes, fingers exploring his length curiously. His tip calls for the warmth of your mouth, and you yield; your tongue licks gently, descending to the shaft before you leave a soft kiss to the tip. You look up, the sight of his immense body folding under your delicate touches. And the second you take him in, welcoming his cock in the tender embrace of your cheeks, he is nothing but a mess, big hands pushing your head closer as you choke a bit on his length.

“You can take me in, can’t you?”

You whine a response with a mouth full, proving him just right as he reaches the back of your throat. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes, making them look like celestial skies, and you ravish at the way you make him feel. His heavy panting and the occasional swearing leave you more wet than you already are, and it takes everything in you to keep going instead of stopping and fuck yourself on his dick. However, patience has never been one of your virtues, and you let him go in a sloppy “pop”. His hand comes to your face, forcing you to look at him as he looks for an answer.

“I’m sorry Taiga, but I can’t wait any longer” you confess.

He helps you up, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips, which startles you. You couldn’t expect such response to what you just did and said, but the more you get to know him, the more you understand that he isn’t your average guy. No, where another man would be impatient and apathic, Kagami is surprisingly kind, perfectly understanding you and your body and indulging into you without thinking twice. He is genuine in a way that makes your heart flutter, so you really can’t blame yourself for wanting him so deep in you, that he forever leaves his mark.

“How does my pretty one want me, hm?”

“I don’t fucking care, I just want you.”

He laughs taking you by the hips before laying you back on the bench. As he spreads your legs wide for him, you look at his figure hovering over you. He is incredibly beautiful; you reflect at the sight. Beside his divine body, his face is one that you wish to always see, one that you’d paint the portrait of.

And it just strikes you at this moment, that you might actually be in love with his face.

Maybe it is truly love at first sight, as absurd as it sounds, maybe it just was a destined encounter. How else can you explain that you feel just right for each other? That he knows how to please your body without you having to say anything? How else can you explain the absolute bliss you feel hearing him groan in your ear? Or the way his hips buck harder when you chant his name like a prayer?

“So fucking good” he grunts as his fingers find your clit.

Your eyes barely stay open, but in a last moment of control over your blissed out body, your finger hook the ring around his neck, pulling him towards your face. Your lips find his in yet another of these heated, needy kisses. Your moans get lost in his mouth and you shake, feeling your orgasm approaching.

“Taiga…” you try to warn him.

“Fuck, are you cumming, yeah? Are you gonna milk me, pretty one?”

You fail to word out an answer, instead whining like the needy girl you are. So needy, for him, for all of him. His thrusts keep going till you finally reach your climax, his name leaving your lips as you feel your insides explode. He keeps going, your clenching walls taking him to the edge. Just as he feels himself on the verge of his own orgasm, he pulls out, stroking his cock till you hear your name in a moan, hot strings of white painting your chest. And everything that you’ve imagined since first meeting him, all these thoughts you were ashamed of and try to repress, they all suddenly take a taste of reality.

Because in Taiga’s attempt of making you his, you’ve ended up making him yours.

“It’s still raining outside” he remarks as he pulls your tired body towards his.

He strokes your hair while you listen carefully to the drops falling on the roof. It sounds like the rain has calmed down, but it is not your intention to leave anytime soon.

“I just kinda want to stay with you till the rain stops, and maybe even after.”

[blake-1030]

Whump month

Whump months list by @cirrus-ghoulette

I’m not doing all the days, I’ll just be selecting random prompts and doing them randomly. Mainly because I don’t have the patience, also because I don’t really have the time to do all of them. Sorry, but I would if I could.

Scars

Phantom x dewdrop

Summary: phantom covers up, no ones ever seen him in shorts sleeves, shorts, or anything of the sorts. Dewdrop feels he knows why, because after his elemental transition, he covered up too. For a long time. So dewdrop makes sure to let Phantom know that he is loved

Warnings: talk of self harm (very brief)

It was a hot summers day, the sun scorching a warm 29 degrees (Celsius). Not a cloud in the sky, only the faintest of breezes swam through the air. Only able to be detected by an Air ghoul/ette.

So of course, all of the ghouls were in summer wear. Swiss in simply just shorts, Cumulus in denim shorts and a tank top. And everyone else had a similar variation to those combos.

Well, everyone except for phantom. He was adorned in his usual blue jeans and black hoodie. He was smart enough to bring a very large bottle of water outside with him, and to sit under a shaded area. But there was only so much that did.

When Aurora asked why he wasn’t in shorts he simply replied, ‘I don’t have any, I’m going to the shops tomorrow.’ And when Rain asked about why he was in a hoodie he replied, ‘I don’t even think it’s that hot.’ Both of those statements being obvious lies. Because it was almost 30 degrees (Celsius) and because he was given everything he would need when he was summoned, including shorts.

Dewdrop couldn’t help but overhear all this, because, well, he’s dewdrop. He decided to walk over and sit down on an empty chair next to Phantom.

“How you doing, bug?”

Phantom looked across to Dew. “Yeah, I’m good, you?”

“I’m good, can I ask you a question though?”

“Of course, is something wrong?” Phantom tilts his head slightly.

“I should be asking you that. Anyway, why aren’t you wearing summer clothes? I couldn’t help but overhear what you said to Rain and Aurora, and I know that you’re sweating your tits off. And I also know you have shorts, cause I was given the exact same ones when I was summoned”

Phantom chewed his bottom lip while the fire ghoul spoke, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “I-well-…” Phantom begins.

“Go on” Dew gives a slight bit of encouragement.

“It might just be easier to show you.” Replies phantom with a slightly uneven tone.

“Show me?”

Dews heart snaps when he thinks of something extreme pretty fast

“Y-you’re not doing anything to yourself-“

Phantom cuts him off. “No, no no no. I swear on my life. Just follow me”

Dewdrop lets out possibly the biggest sigh of relief ever. He watches as Phantom gets up, so he does the same.

Phantom leads dewdrop to his room, at the end of the ghoul den. He locks the door after Dew walks in.

“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” Dewdrops sorry attempt at humour doesn’t please Phantom.

“No, I-turn around”

Dewdrop ponders before turning around, hearing a zipper and the rustling of clothes. There’s a few moments of silence before he hears Phantoms shaky voice.

“You can turn round now…”

And Dewdrop does, and he gets quite the shock. Phantoms slim body, in nothing but his boxers, adorned with purple-y pinkish scars. They almost looked like tree branches, or even lightning. They covered the top half of his arms, his chest, stomach and back, and creeped a few inches past his boxers.

Dewdrop is slightly taken aback, but he was expecting something similar.

“Phantom-“

“Don’t do the whole, ‘you’re beautiful’ speech, cause I’ve had it a million times before. You’re not gonna change my mind on how I look”

Dewdrop swallowed hard. “Maybe it would be better if I showed you too”

Phantoms confused at that, but Dewdrops removed his t-shirt before he can ask why.

“Come here” dewdrop urges him closer. So Phantom does.

Dewdrop shifts to the side slightly and lifts his arm, and tilting his neck, showing the silvery scars he had gotten after the elemental transition.

“I know mines might not seen as bad as yours, but I know how you feel. And everyone is so patient and supporting, so you shouldn’t be worried to show them, okay?”

Phantom nods

“Please, put shorts and a t-shirt on, before you get heat stroke”

Phantom ponders

“Only if you come outside with me… you need to be with me”

“I wouldn’t do anything else, bat. I’ll even help you pick what ones to wear, yeah?”

Phantom smiles slightly

“Yeah”

[amononymous]

Mist of Affection

Sanmos fic

Summary: The night before the next mission.  It started raining.  Bummed out, Deimos can only watch the raindrops.  Sanford also watches the rain pass by.  However, Deimos has an idea.

The night before another mission gets carried out.  Sanford’s seen polishing his hook.  Giving it an inspection for any grimy dirt before gently setting it down on the wooden crates.

Giving a glance at his partner, who in contrast with Sanford is slack.  Standing near the front door, lighting his cigarette before putting it up to his lip to inhale the ghastly fumes and puffing it out, letting all the smoke escape from his mouth.

“Bud, I thought you said that you’re going to lay low on the cigarettes,”  Sanford sighs.  “This is the 3rd time this week.”

“Yeah yeah…” Deimos chuckled.  “You know how it’s been these days.” 

“You referring to the mission Doc assigned us yesterday?” 

“What’d you think?  This is how I’m preparing myself after all~”

“I guess it can’t be helped then…”

Throughout many times, Deimos has always found ways to relieve all the stress from mass murdering that he and his partner would regularly have to do.  Smoking's usually it.  Whenever he finds a little bit of time where he can start lighting up his trusty cigarette, he would take that time to.  Despite his partner’s disapproval.  

Though, he can be serious during the mission if he needed to.  Having to put up that professionalism isn’t an uncommon thing that Deimos can do.  Even on an outside mission he loves to kid around and often, at the times, would take a sip of Irish Cream at a nearby bar.

Of course, Sanford doesn’t really go with that.  At times, he’d still try to hone in his strength and skills in combat.  Once in a while, he’ll let loose and accompany Deimos to the bar.  Only for him to order an abundance of buffalo wings.

They both have their own ways at things but still make a good dynamic.

Before the two of them knew it, they heard the pitter-patter as the raindrops trickling down sounds in their ears.  The cloud’s been visible, enough for the desolate sky to be covered by it.

“What?!” Deimos blurted, “Ugh, it had to rain right now?”

“It’s just a drizzle, you chucklehead.” Sanford replied.  

“Even then, it’s a damn shame I can’t go anywhere without getting drenched.”

“Come on, Deimos.  You can go to the bar another day.”

Deimos let out one last exhale before letting the cigarette drop and stomping it, allowing all the toxic bits spread out on the ground to the sole of his sneaker.

“At least don’t do that here…” Sanford muttered.

Few minutes have gone by and the droplet’s not letting up.  Deimos took a big sigh sitting on the front porch, and could only watch as the drizzle went by.

The door behind him opens.

“You still sitting there?”  Sanford appears before closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, have nothing else to do anyway.” Deimos shrugged.

“Nothing you thought of doing?” 

“I mean what else can I do in this weather?”

“You usually like to de-stress like stated earlier, is that really your way of ‘preparing yourself’?”

“Sanford, bud, cut me some slack would ya?  It hasn't been raining in Nevada for a week now, I wouldn’t want it to start pouring down now.  Unless I can control the weather that is.”

“…Alright, I mean if you want to keep watching it then be my guest then.” 

“…Wait, hey Sanford.  Hear me out on this.”

“Huh?”

“I just had an idea~”

“I feel like it won’t be an idea I would like.”

“Well… hear me out, would ya?”

Sanford paused a little before taking a step to sit besides Deimos.

“Alright alright, what could be this wonderful idea you’ve conjured up?” Sanford giggled.

“How about…” Deimos pondered.  “We dance in the rain?”

It only took the guy a bit to process what Deimos just said.  Dancing in the rain?  “What do you mean by that?”  He would scratch his noggin in confusion if it wasn't for the bandage.

“I mean exactly what I mean.” Deimos sounded eager.

“Have you hit your head or something, you bozo?  Why would we both start dancing outside like that?”

“Oh come on! I don’t think there’s a harm in doing so, is there?”

“Yes.  We might feel unwell and that’ll hinder the mission.”

“Bud, the rain's just a drizzle.  Please?”

“Look, it’s just that if any of us get sick...”

“Ahh haha! It’ll be fineeee.  And I can guarantee that none of us will feel under the weather by the end of this!”

“Fine, I’ll go along with your charade… If any of us feels ill after this then that’s your fault.”

“I got it, man…”

Excitedly, Deimos ran out to the rain, before looking back and waving at Sanford to join him.  He was fully clothed with his visor and jacket still on.  His headset isn’t being worn but is resting on his shoulder.

Sanford did a bit of a giggle before slowly walking out to join Deimos.  Of course, he didn’t have to take anything off due to his usual outfit consisting of him being bare chested and really just having camo pants and a bandana.  Even with the rain, he still doesn’t remove his shades.

Appearing delighted.  Deimos offers Sanford his hand for him as an invitation for a duet.

Sanford’s smile turned a bit brighter.  Allowing him to gently ease himself as he takes his partner’s hand.  Not caring about the fact they’re about to dance in the rain like earlier.  

Screw his pride, the person he loves the most is presenting to dance with him.

“Knew I could trust on ya~” Deimos’ on cloud nine right now.  A dance to mentally prepare himself for the upcoming mission was all he could ask for.

After all, this is their first time even doing this.  Due to Deimos’ last minute idea.  

“Maybe this isn’t so bad after all…” Sanford thought.

This is one of those times where the duo’s spending their time together before a mission.  Usually going to a bar or relaxing in the same room as each other would be good enough for them.  This time though, it’s different.

They’re both letting loose, they’re both dancing.  Embracing one another as their fingers intertwined with each other, breaths mingling as they both dance to their heart's content.

Sanford and Deimos are enjoying themselves.  Even with their sloppy attempts to waltz, they laughed it off and continued performing.

Who’s that performance for?  Only for each other to see, only for them to bask in, only for them to shine.

Each step they took is like a tap of harmony.  To the rhythm of the rain, their symphony.

Even if they’re getting drenched.  It doesn’t matter.  Their love is expressed through their eye contacts, through their loving embrace, through their presence.

The person who they both loved the most has always been what they’re seeing right now.  Both of their cheeks turned rosy.

Both parties keep on entertaining each other as the performance goes by.  Eventually stopping once they’re out of breath.

The rain soon let up right after their dance came to an end.

Inside, Sanford dries himself with a towel.  Letting his bandana dry for a bit before bringing extra pairs for his partner to dry himself.

“Deimos.  Here, dry yourself up before-”.  He stopped himself for a bit.

Deimos’ knocked out.  Sleeping on the couch still drenched.

“You chucklehead… if you’re asleep just like that, you might catch a cold.”  Sanford gently sat besides his partner.

“Can’t be helped, I guess.  I gotta figure out how to gently pat him dry without waking him somehow.” Sanford said.

As Deimos snores, Sanford was giving him a glance. It’s cute he’ll admit, just not out loud though.

Looking away with a bit of blush on cheeks.  He sits there for a bit.

They’re an inseparable duo.  Even then, all that matters is they have each other.  Their dance with the rain shows that.

Both are relaxed and is mentally prepared for whatever is thrown at them.

At this moment, both parties are smiling.

[companionwolf]

Wrote something with F/O!Central, in the ... not verse but the 'the way I imagine him, the way I see him' garden in my heart thing. That whatever it is.

Anyway the point is it's about Amber.

TW/CWs for pet loss, implied pet death, grief, briefly mentioned suicidal ideation (as a result of grief), mention of relative death.

There is a cat in the garden.

Or well, the memory of one, anyway. The garden and its wider world are not a real place, and so intangiles can exist there as if they were.

The point is it wasn't here before.

There was clues, maybe, but Central's a idea, not a person, not someone who is beyond what is needed and wanted, and doesn't know what would tip a actual living human to the presence of a actual living cat.

Not that he doesn't know what a cat is-- he does, he even likes them. Not as much as the Commander but they associate the animal in general with him so he's developed a affinity. 

Anyway, the cat sits amongst the vegetables, brushing up against a gourd and meowing at him. It's black and white and orange, with green yellow eyes. It's a little bit fat too. Central gives it a frown. "What are you doing here?"

The cat meows again.

And then Central is brought to his knees, a sudden crack of lighting across the sky and rumble of thunder, as a downpour begins all quite at once, and he sinks under the weight of--

What is this?

He knows this. Sort of. Enough to name it.

Grief.

A name, then-- this is Amber. And that's important somehow, this memory in the shape of a cat, that that was it's -- no, her name. Understanding dances just out of Central's reach. This is important. It's important because she was loved. It's important because she was theirs.

Theirs?

The Commander's, Central realizes from his place in the garden soil, and he is so close to grasping the meaning of it all he can faintly taste it. He struggles to pull himself upright. Amber has bolted at the sudden noise, and he scans the foliage of the garden's plants for her. No dice.

The rain is freezing cold and hard, and Central races for the house, and there she is. Amber stands by the front door, and she is screaming. Well, meowing, but incessant. She's getting her message across in any case. She wants inside.

Central comes up onto the porch, bends down and picks her up; she struggles in his arms.

"Relax," he says. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Central heads inside, leaving his boots by the door and going into the living room where he deposits the cat onto the couch. She stands there only momentarily before she is under a different lovseat, staring at him with big eyes.

"You're their pet," he says, mostly to himself.

Amber does not say anything. She is the memory of a cat, and cats don't talk.

Central ponders-- what do cats need?

She doesn't actually require anything to exist just like him, besides the Commander wanting it, but it gives him things to do to need things like entertainment and hobbies and water and food and hygiene management and even the grosser parts of what being a human should be, and it'd be nice to take care of something.

Plus, he likes cats. They made him that way so this works out besides the fact he doesn't actually really know what they need to live.

Food, water. Exercise, probably -- do cats have toys? Sleep-- some kind of bed? Things to keep healthy. Medication, maybe.

He nods, and as the things come to his mind, the world adjusts, makes them so Amber will need these just like he has to eat and drink and rest and occupy himself. Not to the point of death -- ideas live forever, and memories almost as much -- but enough to make existence here feel rounded out.

Amber is still under the loveseat.

Central thinks. She's probably hungry, probably wants water. It would be as easy as a thought to have such appear but he wants the effort of it, so he goes to the cupboard and produces the smallest two bowls he can which he fills, one with water from the tap and one with chopped up chicken pieces.

He sets them down near the loveseat for her. Outside, the rain pours. He can hear it bear against the walls and fall upon the roof. They're spiraling. Central feels a ache in his chest, sighs.

I'm here, he thinks. I'm here. You aren't by yourself with this, whatever it is. You're never alone. They can't hear it, or so he's pretty sure, but he always tries anyway. Just in case.

He looks back at the bowls. Amber stands at the bowl with the chicken, eating noisily. He smiles.

"You like it?" he asks. "You sure seem hungry."

She doesn't answer, but that's okay. She's eating which is more than enough. Central watches as she bolts down the meat and then drinks from the water bowl. He slides off the couch slowly and sits on the floor, reaching over to pet her.

Central isn't sure what he expects, as his fingers meet the remembrance of fur, but wharever it is it isn't what he gets.

-- just out of middle school, someone's house he doesn't know, three little kittens all dumped on the property under the care of a woman he cant identify, pick one this is for you --

-- weight on his chest purr in his ears meow meow meow meow here is my babycat here is her babyfat I go pat pat pat nickname after nickname --

-- she goes with me she gets to be free too how am i going to bring her I can't care for her I'm so afraid but I can't leave her here I can't leave her here I can't --

-- I want her to live a long long time, transitioning away from outside inside cat life, why aren't they listening, but they see the cat came back so it's all okay --

-- HE LET HER OUT HE KILLED MY BABY AND HE DOESNT CARD THEY DONT CARE I SHOULD HAVE PUT THE COLLAR ON HER I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE AGGRESSIVE I SHOULD HAVE --

-- pawboost tumblr discord friends, less than 20% without a collar ever come home, kitty convict, GPS collar orange collar, shelter pages is that a match, FUCKING SCAMMER, I WANT TO DIE --

-- it's been almost 2 months --

-- I love you babycat --

-- I miss you babycat --

Central comes to sobbing. The cat has stayed very still, but as he regains his sense and self she moves away, moving to investigate the living room proper. He watches her, taking slow deep breaths, trying to remember him verus them.

He understands now though. At least somewhat.

He's seen death. He knows the concept, has sat with his commander through it. This though... this is different. There's a element of uncertainty and that only amplifies everything else it is.

There's something he's missing, he knows it. Still, Central bows his head, closes his eyes.

I'm so sorry, Commander.

Central sits. Amber explores. The rain continues. Eventually, he falls asleep, and when he wakes the rainfall has eased up a little, and also there is a cat sleeping on him. And she's vibrating.

Purring, he remembers. This matches what he knows that to be, the noise contented cats makes. Central doesn't move much, just goes to pet her again, hesitating only slightly. He is not launched into her, finds instead her soft fur.

She must know I'm them, in the end, he thinks.

Something clicks then, as he's had time to think. Amber did not die. Well, to be fair, he thinks, the Commander does not know that. That's part of it, the not knowing. That makes it all worse. She got out. She was lost. She was not found. Truly deeply missing in action.

Central tries again then.

Commander, she's here. She's with me. And I'm with you, and that's for always, as long as you want. She's here. It's OK.

A pause.

I mean it's not. It's OK if it's not. Whatever you're feeling is too. Just know you'll get through. It won't be easy but... you know. And she's here. Kinda the same way I am. The semantics don't matter much. The point is she isn't gone. Not really. She's just here with me and I'm with you. Try to remember, OK? She loves you. I do too.

No response.

He sighs. The memory of Amber continues to purr from her perch on him. Somewhere beyond them both, beyond the house and garden and its world, the Commander cries and grieves.

You were my friend, he sees them write. The very best. Central likes that a lot. He looks at Amber in the eye; she returns his gaze almost human.

"Thank you, Amber," he says. "For taking care of them as long as you did. For being there when I couldn't be, in that world. For being their friend."

Her purr grows deeper, louder.

And Central remembers then, something he read through their eyes once, before when the people they were related to that live where they wish go kept dying one after another, as the rainstorm's winds howl along with his mourning commander. He remembers something that had hurt and helped them at the same time to see.

Grief is just love with nowhere to go.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Trainwreck (OC fiction) - Part 1

This is just a little something-something that i wrote for myself. It's not finished yet (even though I started drafting this idea in 2018) but I have fun getting back to writing more again, and so this work is finally born.

It's not a fanfic, feel free to ignore if it's not your thing.

Boy x Girl, not mature in anyway, an ode to falling in love, however briefly, with strangers

4.5k words

MASTERLIST

>>> Part 2

(If you need a little push imagination-wise, here's what I pictured the boy to look like)

As far as her memory went, Jo couldn’t recall the last time she’d had such an awful day. It started off with a nice, good nosebleed at seven in the morning, followed by the light bulb frying off when she tried to turn on her lamp to grab a tissue and stop the bleeding. After changing the bedsheets and putting the bloody ones in the washer, she was running late. She ripped her favorite tights when she hastily put them on, and she had to go for a pair of jeans instead of the skirt she planned to wear.

Eventually, when her rough beginning of the day was over – or so she thought – she walked to the train station, only to find out that her train was twenty minutes late. Not that delayed trains were a rare thing, but today really got its place in Jo’s top five worst days when it started pouring rain, drenching her to the bones before she even had a chance to pull her umbrella out of her bag. And truthfully, at this point, was it even worth it to open it? She was late, wet, cold, and couldn’t imagine there was anything in the world that could salvage today.

            She sighed, and still pulled out the umbrella. How stupid would she look if she’d just stood in the pouring rain, umbrella closed in her hand?

            Now there she was, standing stiffly along the rails, waiting in a late-November rainstorm, pondering the pros and cons of jumping in front of the train. A girl can only endure so much. Jo was no exception, which was why she stood there, lips pursed and face adorned with her award-winning resting bitch face to keep away any potential old lady who’d want to chat her up about how it’s a shame that trains are always late.

            In the rush, she didn’t grab her gloves and when she noticed the tip of her fingers turning blue, she painstakingly wiggled one into the small pocket of her jeans – the other one was holding the umbrella, unfortunately. It didn’t do any good, causing her to grumble to herself, wondering if today’s classes were worth so much trouble or if she should just head back to her apartment and not leave the coziness of her feather duvet until the end of the week. It was only Tuesday and already Jo couldn’t wait for the much-needed week-end to finally start.

            In order to keep herself busy for the next fifteen minutes, she put on her earphones and some blasted the loudest, most angry music she had downloaded on her Spotify, something that reflected accurately her current mood – and once again, she cursed silently the world. She really wished she had chosen to take her car today – parking was always a hassle but by God, she would give anything to be sitting her dry, warm car, mindlessly singing along to the lyrics. She obviously couldn’t do that here, there were other persons around her waiting for their train, and she wasn’t a nut job.

            After what seemed like an eternity, the train arrived in the station, and when the engine finally arrived to a stop, a few feet away from where she stood, shaking from head to toe from the biting wind, she could have cried.

Suddenly, everybody rushed towards the opening doors, eager to escape from the downpour and find shelter in the train. In the mayhem, somebody bumped into Jo’s shoulder, causing her bag to drop down into her elbow and making her let go of her umbrella.

            A gasp of surprise and yet another groan fell from her lips as she quickly put her bag back on her shoulder and knelt down to pick up her umbrella and close it so she could enter the train. Jo looked up to see who the culprit was, ready to lash out because today of all days wasn’t a good time to not apologize to her. She froze dead in her tracks.

A single glance at the boy standing before her eyes made her swallow back whatever she was going to say – and almost stumble back and trip on her own feet. His blue grayish stare took her aback, and he mouthed a swift ‘sorry’ along with an apologetic look – but was truly caught her attention was the fact that he only had one eye fully open. Before she could take her rudeness further, the familiar whistle signaling the doors closing was heard. He turned around to go take a seat, and the spell was broken.

            Still a bit unnerved by the peculiarity of this boy’s captivating single eye, Jo mindlessly made her way down the alley and sat down as far away from other people as possible, shrugging off her coat and carefully putting her dripping umbrella on the floor. After shoving her scarf in her bag, she took out a book and started digging to search for her glasses aggressively pushing stuff out of her way, but finding nothing.

“You gotta be fucking kiddin’ me!” she whisper-shouted to herself. The only thing that could have made this day worse just happened. Her hands flew up in defeat and she leaned back, seriously considering jumping off the bandwagon. Short of finding a five hundred dollars bill on the floor, this day was definitely ruined.

She opened her book regardless, determined to get a few pages in, even though it would be particularly tiring to read without her glasses. Jo furiously flipped the pages until she reached her bookmark, letting out all of her frustration on that poor book. Aside from her issues seeing the words on the pages, Jo’s reading was greatly disrupted by the fact that her mind kept drifting back to this guy’s unearthly eye color – and she couldn’t help being intrigued by his other eye, the one that didn’t open all the way up.

She felt uneasy and somewhat ashamed that it was so big of a deal for her – as if she should have noticed him for something else, anything else than his ill eye. This whole ‘one eye’ thing had her brain upside down and she wondered whether or not it was normal to be this interested in some stranger’s condition. Maybe ‘normal’ wasn’t the right word, but it was human. Most people would probably look away as quickly as they could, as if voiding eye contact would prevent contagion as if it was actually contagious. Then, they’d pass it off as politeness. It’s rude to stare.

Well, it is. But at least she didn’t pretend she didn’t see it. It’s right there, in the middle of his face. Wouldn’t it be worse to ignore it? Was she overthinking this?

            He must receive so many indiscreet stares… Jo felt a surge of embarrassment heat up her face when she realized how she had looked at him when their eyes met. A sudden urge to smash her face in the seat before her overwhelmed her. On the other hand, she wasn’t expecting that, so it was understandable to be surprised, right? Anyway, now that the unfortunate meeting was history, she could let her mind wander a bit, that wouldn’t hurt no one.

            What happened to him? A disease? A physical trauma? Just some dust in his eye? Did he still see with that eye? She’ll most definitely never get answers to her questions, but she couldn’t help but wonder. She was a curious one, and sometimes she overstepped her boundaries when she really wanted to know something – although in this case, she might think twice about it, because speaking to attractive boys wasn’t exactly her forte.

            This reminded her of sixth grade when she had a crush on this boy, Adrian, because he had this accident in PE and ended up having an arm-brace for a few months. Later on, when Jo mentioned this childhood crush to her friends – because once you are over twenty, sixth grade is labeled as childhood – they teased her about it, saying that she was the ‘mom’ kind of girlfriend. The type of girls that only go for guys who could potentially need them, as if tending to their wounds – physical or emotional – would make them win their affection.

            This really is a thing. At the time, Jo laughed it off with her friends before changing the subject, but when she came home, she took the time to cogitate a bit, and she realized just how accurate her friends were. But going after the broken ones wasn’t a sport, and Jo couldn’t help how she felt, and for lack of a better word she was drawn to vulnerable people.

            Before taking her reflection too far down that slippery slope, she shook her head to chase away those parasite thoughts. She abruptly closed her book single handedly with a loud thud, causing the few people sharing the wagon to look up from whatever they were doing to seek out the source of the disturbance. The sudden attention brought to her made her face heat up and she knew she was red as a ripe cherry.

In an attempt to escape those prying eyes judging her for troubling the religious silence reigning in the wagon, Jo desperately searched for some place she could set her eyes on. Finally, her face cooled down and she relaxed in her seat, wondering what she'd do in class today without her glasses. But once again her train of thoughts was interrupted by the feeling of somebody looking at her.

Everybody knows the unsettling feeling of having a stare so intense directed to you that you could physically sense it, as tangible as the touch of a hand against one's cheek. Darting her gaze around to find the source of the disturbance, Jo frowned her brows, wondering if maybe someone she knew was on board and recognized her. But she didn't recall seeing any familiar faces when she waited at the train station. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. Once again, her cheeks flushed a bright pink and it was suddenly extremely hot in here, especially when the boy from before stared a hole through her head - Jo couldn't fathom how intense his gaze would be if both his eyes were fully open.

For a good five seconds, their eyes were locked and the girl wondered what would be more awkward: looking away with the blush obvious on her cheeks or supporting his stare, at the risk of freaking him out. In the end she decided it was safer to look away because she didn't trust herself to uphold his gaze any longer.

When she looked down to her lap, a wave of regret washed over her - what if he thought she looked at him because of his eye? Of course, it was the truth in a way, although there was much more to him than his sight issues. Indeed the 'boy' must be around her age, maybe a little older but not by much. His valid eye was a light shade of ice blue, piercing with intensity and he seemed not at all bothered by his other eye. His dirty blond hair was stylishly put back and tamed in a way that Jo couldn't even dream to achieve with her own long, inconvenient hair. He had one of these noses which you want to boop and had a nice curved slope. His lips were full and sharp and gave his face a slight femininity that suited him and graced him with a certain fragile charm. He harbored the same uniqueness and delicacy as snowflakes, without losing any of his male beauty.

If she hadn't already drawn enough attention to her, Jo would have face palmed herself for looking away. She felt as though she had missed her chance with this guy even though there was nothing there to begin with, and she certainly had no intention of hitting on him.

She didn’t.

He managed to intrigue her, beyond the physical peculiarity there was something edgy and elusive about him. He was sitting rather far away from where she was but he was just in her line of sight. When she dared to peek between the seats in front of her to see him again, he was staring out the window. He couldn't see her at all because she was on the side of his bad eye. It allowed her to take a better look - although blurry because of the absence of glasses on her nose - at the droopy eye. It wasn't completely closed, it was more like he couldn't open it and it remained oddly narrowed, resulting in a lazy stare. The contrast with his other eye was mainly due to his eye color though, and Jo wished he would look her way again. This made her shake her head again because what in God's name would make her want to confront his stare again? First of all, she would probably look away as she did before and then-

He was simply too handsome for her own good. At this point, she figured she maybe should’ve thanked him for bumping into her. He looked so put-together, so clean and sleek – not at all like someone who had braved the rain to catch a train-ride. This only reminded her that she, in fact, did not possess such grace, and currently looked like a drowned dog. Felt like it, too.

She was one to go weak in the knees when she had to talk to an attractive person and ended up stuttering out some idiotic sentence which would later feed on her esprit de l'escalier. This guy though, had a magnetic effect on her, despite the fear of being caught red-handed eying him - for the second time! Suddenly his eye left the landscape to focus back on the inside of the train, apparently with the intention of finding her eyes because he locked his gaze right with hers. This time the awkwardness was gone. The unease was replaced by a sort of calm curiosity from both parts - they were studying each other. Jo was overwhelmed with the strange impression that the outcome of this staring contest had a lot more at stake than what it seemed. Her heart missed a beat when the corner of his mouth curved up a little. He was smirking at her, and before her brain had the time to process what was happening, she felt her own lips curl into a faint smile, returning the silent address.

And in that exact moment, she realized just how screwed she was, because she knew this strange boy was the new object of her wavering affection, and hopefully, she’d get over this instant crush by the end of the day.

How fucking wrong she was.

*

            The following week was even more stressful than the last one, though this time she arrived ten minutes early – just in case, not at all because she hoped to see the guy again. Jo stomped as if angry at the whole world and paced around the platform like a caged lion. At some point she had to stop because this old lady was giving her a judgmental look while clutching at her small flower pattern tote bag, as if she thought Jo was some kind of drug addict who needed her fix and was about to jump to her throat, teeth out, foam dripping down her chin.

            All this because she couldn’t stay still. The girl huffed and stopped walking. Before pulling her tights up, she made sure no one was looking her way, and she also quickly checked her hair in the nearest window. Her makeup hardly hid the dark circles adorning her face, but she did as well as she could. Her hair kept flying in her face because of the wind and she constantly had to pull it back with one hand, while the other one was on the hem of her dress to keep it down and make sure it wouldn’t go all Marilyn Monroe on her. After five minutes of this game, Jo groaned and forcefully closed her coat, crossing her arms over her chest and blowing air upwards to chase her hair out of her face. A small laughter erupted from behind her.

            She spun on her heels to see who was making fun of her distress and immediately felt her face fire up again. Of course, it was him. But how long had he been? How long had he watched her struggle with her hair and outfit? Jo was overwhelmed with the urge to dig a hole and crawl in it to die. Well… at least it didn’t rain this time.

“What are you laughing at?” she snapped, mentally scolding herself for being rude, although it wasn’t very nice of him to mock her either. The first wave of guilt vanished pretty quickly and the girl applauded herself for not just blushing and looking away like a schoolgirl. It was his fault; he shouldn’t have laughed.

“Comfort being sacrificed on the altar of beauty,” he stated enigmatically, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jo’s mouth fell agape, and he looked proud to have her at loss for words, yet when she processed what he told her and finally went to answer him, he suddenly strode away, as if shying away from the conversation.

            The underlying compliment in his sentence had her confused and a tab bit flustered, but she inwardly slapped herself to regain her senses and do something. God, he said something to her – he didn’t have to but he did – she couldn’t just let the conversation stop there. Even though she wasn’t sure this exchange deserved to be called a conversation.

            When she was about to follow him and speak up again, she was interrupted by the honk of the train. After that the small gathering of people waiting there started moving towards the deck, waiting for the complete stop of the engine. Her timing was so bad Jo actually considered having offended whatever superior power there was, because this much bad luck couldn’t be natural, or coincidental. She went with the flow and followed the other people inside, a bit disappointed that she lost sight of him so quickly.

            However, as soon as she got inside, she spotted the boy and pondered the pros and cons of making a bold move like sitting next to him, despite of the many, many empty seats around him. If she thought about it too long, she’d back down. Before changing her mind, she bee-lined towards him, almost tripping over some rogue luggage on her way down the alley, but quickly reaching the empty seat.

When she arrived, there was his bag on it.

“May I?” Jo asked, her voice unsure but at least not stuttering. He looked up, startled but trying not to be rude and automatically nodding his head, but not giving any sign of removing the bag from the seat. “-unless you want to be alone?” she asked, her eyes switching between him and the seat.

            She would have sworn he blushed, but he took the bag and turned to the window before she could see for good. Jo sat down, a bit too slowly not to make it awkward, but it was so obvious that he agreed just because she took him aback that she hesitated a second. If he kept acting like this, the next thirty minutes were going to be incredibly uncomfortable. For the first five minutes, it felt to her that he was doing everything he could to avoid eye contact. It was stupid though, wasn’t it? They already had made eye contact earlier, and last week.

“What’s your name?” she blurted out, ignoring all and any social conventions. Maybe she should have opened up with her own name first. Too late for that now though – God, she should not be allowed out in public.

            The stranger turned to face her, once again speechless as he stared at her – probably regretting letting a weird girl who kept staring at him sit with him. His valid eye was wide open as the other remained half closed, barely opened and still. There was surprise painted all over his graciously flawed face and his lips fell open as he continued to soak up the details of her face.

Jo had dark brown eyes, one of those straight and pointy noses with a beauty spot on the bridge of her nose and a mouth that was made to smile. Her hair was a mess still, but she was a pretty girl, in a wild sort of way.

“You know, if I didn’t hear you speak before, I’d think you’re mute,” she suddenly told him, raising an amused eyebrow. This had the effect of relaxing him slightly, and when she saw the tension leave his jaw, she smiled.

“Sorry,” he felt the need to apologize. This one word sent shivers down her spine. That voice.

“I’m Joyce. Jo for short.” Her smile widened even more and he didn’t know what to do.

“Roman,” he managed to voice, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You’re the girl from last week?”

Jo invoked all of her self-control not to blush. “That would be me.” She nodded, not looking down in her lap now. At least that was out of the way, she thought.

This was about as awkward as it could get, and the tension between them was so thick Jo actually considered taking out a knife – not that she carried one with her – and cut through it. She knew he was aware of it too, but neither of them knew what to do about it. Last week’s playful smirk he shot her was a much better start than this conversation which led them nowhere. Although, Jo suspected she knew where the unusual awkwardness came from. She was more than capable of making friends with ease, so there had to be more to it than just a bit of shyness. It had to be his eye. Was he self-conscious?

Within a second, she had made her decision, and before giving it a second thought, she blurted out, “Ptosis of the eyelid[1], right?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, his eye almost popping out. If he wasn’t sitting at the window, she was sure he’d run away as fast as light speed.

“I figured I might as well talk about the elephant in the room. It would be even ruder of me to pretend I don’t notice, wouldn’t it?” she reasoned, progressively making his confused and shocked frown disappear. “And just to make it clear, I’m not sitting here out of morbid curiosity.”

“Then why?” he replied, giving her a suspicious look.

            Because you’re handsome, and you smirked while looking at me, and I have knots in my stomach right now because of how nervous I am.

“Do I need a reason?” she said.

“If I say yes, would you tell me the truth?” he answered her question with another one. His brows shot up, causing a wrinkle to draw on his forehead. She nodded. “Then yes.”

“I think you’re attractive.” There, she said it. Dammit. If she ever told her friends about this, they’d all squeal so high-pitched she’d go deaf instantly. Jo wasn’t known to be so bold.

            The stranger’s face suddenly flushed red and he blinked and turned to the window to avoid her gaze before saying, “Well, that was straightforward. But I asked for honesty so I’m not complaining.”

“You look surprised,” she stated. It sort of felt like she was in control of the conversation at this point, and she enjoyed the feeling. His eye went back to her, and this time he was smiling too – though it was discrete.

“It’s not every day that a pretty girl hits on me so boldly,” he simply answered. But it was the second time today that he complimented her indirectly, and this time she wasn’t going to let it go away. For some odd reason, she was drawn to him in a way she had never experienced before. He was there, at arm length and she wanted to reach out and touch him – and only her common sense prevented her from doing so.

            Putting her bag under her seat, Jo brought her left leg up and over her right, putting herself more at ease. This particular show of relaxation gave Roman confidence and he ditched the landscape to focus back on her, with a boyish grin plastered on his pale face, his one opened blue eye piercing right through her.

“You could have spoken to me last week. You don’t strike me as a shy person,” he said. “After all, you did come today.” He also crossed his legs, placing his left ankle on his right knee, and fiddling with his shoe laces.

“Oh no, last week I couldn’t. Even today, I always didn’t. I’m not used to this, what I figured, what did I have to lose?” The girl shrugged, telling him the truth. He was slowly warming up at her and this was a good thing if they intended to flirt during the whole ride.

“What indeed,” he said distractedly, slightly biting on his lower lip. Jo saw his Adam’s apple go up and down as he swallowed nervously.

“My ego might have been a little wounded if you told me to sit somewhere else, and I probably wouldn't have approached a guy again for the next fifteen years of my life,” she dramatized and made a funny face to make him laugh. “But aside from that, I thought it was worth a shot.”

“I am honored that you deemed my company worth the risk,” he joked, playing along. “If you don’t mind me asking, why exactly, couldn’t you speak to me last week?”

            Jo sighed a long sigh.

“I was on a massive streak of bad luck last week. If I’d so much as tried to walk past your seat, the train would have abruptly pulled the brakes, and I’d have fallen right into your lap or something ridiculous like that.”

            Now Roman laughed a little louder, visibly not having expected this explanation. He threw his head back a little, and Jo’s chest flare up with pride at having made him laugh.

“I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t that,” he eventually said. “Did you rehearse this conversation beforehand? I feel… sort of- unprepared compared to you.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, you’re doing great,” she reassured him, going as far as gently bumping her shoulder against his.

            She regretted it almost right away, wondering if she was going too far with this virtual stranger. They met minutes ago and she was already cozying up to him, maybe he would find it weird.

            He didn’t seem to mind, though.

“So-“ he began. “Tell me, where are you going every Tuesday with the 9a.m. train?”

[1] Disease that causes the eyelids to drop (one of them or both), making it difficult or impossible to open the eye completely.

[dufreydiaries]

Dufrey Diaries chapter 3

The camels rushed through the desert as the sky went from pitch black to gray. The heat wasn’t as bad without the sun beating down, but it was still uncomfortable. What surprised her was the lack of any vicious wildlife. Maybe they were hiding from the gray sky on the off chance some rare rain fell on the region. All too soon, they arrived at the entrance to the Dwemer ruins.

Rasina climbed down and tied her camel to a nearby post. This was a common place for researchers to check out. Lucline carefully lowered herself to the ground. She recalled too well her first time getting off a camel. It wasn’t like getting off a horse. She had landed on her butt in the sand. Not only was it hot, but she had also been cleaning sand out of her lower regions for hours.

Rasina moved up to check the area around the door as Lucline tied up her mount. The Breton mage turned to find her Redguard friend return. She took a rare moment to ponder her companion. Among the Redguards, she was deemed to be unattractive. Lucline thought this was crazy. With her features, Rasina could be a professional beauty in High Rock. Any man or woman she desired would bend over backwards to be with her back home.

She grasped her thoughts and shut them down. She couldn’t deny the way Rasina made her heart race. But a flash of the ‘incident’ flashed in her mind. She shuddered briefly but managed to get control of herself. She hoped Rasina had not caught on.

If she had, her crush did not show it as the two of them entered the ruin.

*Elder-Scrolls*

Lucline recast her candlelight spell and the white light floated next to her. Rasina took the lead, her hands coming together and a sword of pure force appearing there. Lucline grinned as she watched the dark-haired woman summon her, She-hai, her spirit sword. It was a cool ability, and most blades could not hold a candle to its power. She had heard each Ansei had their own paths to their sword. She hoped one day Rasna would share the story with her.

“Hold up.” The warrior stopped and held up one hand, bringing Lucline up short. “I hear something. Ready yourself.”

She nodded and with a mental shift, brought her hands together and cast her best Flesh spell, making her skin like armor. Then she changed again to the heady power that comes from Destruction magics.

“I’m ready.” She told her companion and she nodded.

They stepped into a large chamber and two Dwemer spiders started to approach them. Lucline aimed for the spider on the right and fire off a bolt of lightning, stopping the construct in its path.

Rasina charged with a shout and brought her blade down on the stunned construct. The Spirit Sword cleaved the metallic creature in twain. Lucline smiled and turned her attention to the other spider. It opened its pincers and released lightning of its own back at her. She opened her left hand and a ward appeared, absorbing most of the lightning and her natural Breton blood doing the rest.

Rasina stepped forward and stabbed through the leg of the spider, holding it in place. Lucline brought her hands together and the warrior jumped away as she unleashed a dual cast bolt of lightning, blowing the spider to pieces. She panted as she placed her hands on, he knees. She saw her partner smile at her, not even winded.

“We need to get your stamina up,” Rasina joked, “A small fight like that shouldn’t wear you out.”

Lucline bit back her first response. ‘I would love it if you helped me increase my stamina, how about tonight?’ As much as she wanted to say that she could not. Not now anyways.

“I would love to do that, if it wasn’t so hot.”

The warrior laughed. “Well, no use standing here. Let’s keep going.”

Together, the two of them walked down the winding paths until they reached the main area of the ruin. There, sitting against a wall, was the device they had come here to study. Lucline clapped her hands and strode forward. She heard Rasina sigh and follow. As they reached the halfway point, they heard a shifting sound. Lucline spun around, just in time to see several large rocks fall in front of the entrance to the tunnel, sealing them inside.

They stood there for a while before Rasina finally managed to say.

“Well, what do we do now?”

A/N: And we have a cliff hanger ending for today. Hopefully they find a way to come through this alive. See you guys next time for chapter 4!

[sunny6677]

What A Downer.

[A Spooky Month Fanfiction about my oc]

Chapter 1: A Downer.

Summary: A 9 year old by the name of Zander struggles through life.

TWS: BULLYING, KIDS BEING ASSHOLES, DEPRESSION IMPLICATIONS, SELF WORTH ISSUES.

————

"Can anyone tell me how rain is made?"

That was the question that Zander's teacher asked as she stood at the front of the room, standing beside her desk with her hands gesturing toward the many children in the room.

Zander kept his head low, though his gaze was fixed upon the teacher who made it clear that she needed to be paid attention to. Otherwise, Zander wouldn't learn, and most of the other children wouldn't learn either.

Zander often didn't know how to answer questions such as the one his teacher had asked. He could spend days in bed pondering all of his endless thoughts, but never could he ponder questions that he usually never thought about.

If he were to guess how rain were made, he'd only assume that possibly it was just stuck inside of the clouds until it poured out. Or he'd only assumed that water left from rain gradually vanished over time due to the earth consuming it all, or possibly the hot blazing sun.

A child such as himself was never to be taken seriously. Even if he did give the correct answer, his teacher would give a condescending smile and would somehow find a way to say that he was wrong.

Zander internally bashed himself on the head for this thought though. His teacher wasn't some kind of super villain or something who hated his guts to the point of making him out to be wrong about everything. No one really was. If anything, he was just being petty.

A kid from beside him spoke up, "Maybe its.. uhh.. um.. uhhhh....". Another kid frantically waved their hand in the air, and smiled, saying, "Do people make it?!". "No, stupid! Obviously, people don't make it." A girl said from beside that kid, making the kids face soften with slight dread.

"If anything, if someone were to make it, It'd probably be Zander." The girl said, glaring I Zander for a moment, "It'd be no surprise if he were, considering how gross rain can be sometimes."

Zander furrowed his brows, his gaze becoming half-lidded with slightly restrained frustration. He was used to such words coming from his classmates. They all despised him so, though of course no one really liked him anyway. Zander merely rolled his eyes, for it was all he could really do. It wasn't really like the teacher would do anything anyway.

He caught himself muttering, "I don't make rain.."

The girl snapped her head back at him, "Really? But who else could be responsible for something so icky? You're the only icky one here, Zander. If rain were made by anyone, it'd probably be you."

"Icky?" Zander repeated, "..how can someone be icky?"

The girl opened her mouth to speak back at him in a more irritated manner, "Well, obviously—". The teacher quickly spoke up again. "Cynthia. Cynthia!". The girl quickly stopped speaking, and turned her head back towards the teacher. The teacher spoke up once more, "There we go. Thank you. Now, the way rain is actually made is—"

As the teacher spoke, Zander looked down at his hands. Him? Make rain? Icky? Honestly, he had no idea what Cynthia's line of thinking was, but she was probably right. Maybe he was responsible for every sort of trouble in the world. It wouldn't really be that much of a surprise.

Zander looked back up. He could see Cynthia's harsh gaze staring at him from where she was sitting. She was practically giving him a death glare.

Most likely, she was angry about him getting her scolded by the teacher. He didn't blame her. After all, she was trying to speak to him, and he got her interrupted by the teacher. The only thing Zander really could do was look down at his lap in the hopes that she'd stop staring at him. He didn't like it when people looked at him for too long.

Of course though, staring wouldn't be the only thing Cynthia would inflict upon him. He knew something more was coming.

But, there was nothing to be done. He just had to wait and see what it was.

————

School was over for the day. Zander didn't take the bus home, since his house was already close enough anyway. So he would be walking back to his house.

He had to admit, he was a little relieved. Like always, he'd be able to continue his usual routine of laying in bed for hours on end and doing absolutely nothing. It wasn't a meaningful routine, but what meaning did anything have anyway?

Zander heard the conversations of children from all around him. Excited shouting. Crying. Whining. All of it played out from around him like several broken records. Maybe everything in life was a broken record. Repeating, repeating and repeating until it eventually broke completely. Or until it was stopped. Maybe everything at this school was a broken record. Of course, those thoughts didn't exactly matter right now.

Zander began to walk slowly into the direction he'd always take whenever heading back home. A sidewalk which he could cross once he got to its end. He stood there for a moment, as if in thought. Then, he began to walk foward. He would feel a rare flicker of relief from inside him whenever the shouts of the children behind him would start to slowly fade into silence. Always, he felt relieved when there was silence.

Zander walked past the bus vehicles that stood still beside the sidewalk. He narrowly avoided being ran into by other children, and tried to at least avoid them in general. He could see several kids getting onto the vehicles, screaming and opening the windows just to say hi to nearby companions who rode a different bus than they did.

Zander kept his head dipped low at the ground, staring at the floor. Always, he kept his head low. It was a natural thing for him. Or it was at least natural to always avoid any sort of eye contact with other people.

His backpack felt a little heavier than usual. He paid it no mind, or at least tried not to. But he couldn't help but feel that there was something off.

Then, he felt two sensations run upon his back. The feeling of being pushed. He began to head toward the ground, the concrete slowly becoming closer and closer to his face. He let out a slight yelp, "Agh!". The ground kept getting closer, and closer. Somehow though, he was able to contort his head sideways. And finally, his body hit the ground.

Luckily, his face hadn't hit it. Even as searing pain entered his body, he was at least relieved his face didn't hit the concrete of all things. He let out a grunt of pain, a breath seething out from his teeth as he tried to hold back a scream. Zander barely opened his eyes. Whoever the perpetrator was, they were running away. But even as the sunlight made their silhouette appear dark, he could tell who it was.

It was Cynthia. She had pushed him to the ground.

He barely managed to get up. His little arms struggled, wavering and shaking as his hands ached with stinging pain. He could hear an older woman's voice from behind him slowly coming closer, asking whether or not if he was okay. "Zander! Are you alright?" The voice asked again. He could feel a hand slipping onto his body, and instead of pushing him, it brought him upward. Of course, it was just another teacher, nothing more.

"...yeah, I'm fine." Zander replied slowly.

"Are—are you sure? You—" The teacher stopped speaking. "..Zander, what is all this?"

Zander arched a brow in confusion. What was the teacher talking about? There was nothing that he had, was there? "What do you mean?" He asked softly. It was only then that he noticed what she was talking about.

Spilled out from his now open backpack was a bunch of junk. Rocks, papers, worn out food, wrappers. None of his supplies were actually there. His journals, his books, his pencils. All of them were gone. It immediately clicked what had happened. Most likely, this had been Cynthia's doing. Was that why his backpack felt so heavy all of the sudden?

Even so, as Zander stared at it with widened eyes, he tried to speak up. "..uhh.. I'm collecting trash?" He tried to lie. Cynthia would probably kill him if he even thought about explaining what actually happened. The teacher stared down at him, raising a brow. "Why would you be collecting trash?"

"...uhhh.. science?" Zander replied slowly in a deadpan and awkward tone. For a moment, there was silence. "Zander, you're not lying to me, are you?" The teacher inquired. Zander's heart sunk, though he should have expected this. He couldn't even lie right. He couldn't do anything right.

"N—No.. I'm not." Zander said, looking away. He then looked back at her.

It was clear that by the look on her face that she didn't believe him.

————

Zander hadn't gotten his stuff back yet, but the teacher did help him at least get all of the trash out of his backpack. But no matter how hard the teacher tried to pry into what actually happened, Zander wouldn't give her an actual answer. Sometimes, he'd mumble and other times he'd lie again. She didn't need to know. He couldn't let her know. If he let her know, then Cynthia would do something worse. And he'd just make things worse like always, because he was a downer. A failure even.

His backpack felt lighter now, and the sun blazed against his skin. The tendrils of his white swirly hair felt a bit warmer than it usually did. He had to admit, sometimes he thought he looked more like he was wearing a wig rather than it actually being how his hair looked. A kid in class had even joked that he looked like George Washington almost. He couldn't even look normal right, so technically, they werent exactly wrong.

None of the kids in his class were wrong about him, at least not in his eyes. He was a downer after all. A downer both to talk to, and to be around. If he was such a downer right now though, what did that mean for his future? Would he have any sort of future at all?

He stopped for a moment, thinking about his backpack. How light it felt, what Cynthia had done to it.

Zander paused.

...

He felt that he was going to cry.

///////////////////////

Don't worry, actual spooky month characters will show up soon. This chapter was just to introduce Zander as a character and shiz.

[perpetual-fool]

Reym 1

First meeting -

   It is a cool autumn afternoon. Gray clouds overhead cast the mountainside in a soft light. Rain patters on the roof of a little pavilion hidden in the trees, overlooking the forested valley below. It's secluded and peaceful. I like being out in nature, but usually there's too many people, the rain keeps people away. I think that's why I've always found it so soothing. Though to some extent it might just be because it was always hot where I grew up. Regardless, the overlook is a nice place to sit and think. I came here to ponder the mysteries of music with a small instrument and a little notebook, but got lost in thought instead. I hear the approaching sound of the rain on an umbrella behind me, but don't have the will to tear myself away from my rumination. As footsteps begin on the concrete pad they abruptly stop.

   "Oh, uh, I didn't think anyone would be here," says a quiet voice from behind me. "Is it okay if I join you?"    "I guess." I take a moment and try to process it, fruitlessly. "Yeah, sure."

   I scoot to the edge of the bench to make room. They sit.

   "So um, are you okay?" they ask. "You don't look like you're just enjoying the view."    "No, I'm not. But you probably shouldn't talk to me. I don't get along with people. No offense."    "Do you mind if I do anyway? or would you prefer I leave you alone?"

   A wave of pain and longing washes through me as I consider the possibility of a human connection. I push it back down.

   "Sure. I don't really want to be alone, but it just doesn't work. Sorry, I'm pretty sure I make people uncomfortable, but I can't really do small talk."    "Wow, you've got some issues, huh?"    "Yeah."    "Well that's promising."    "What? why?"    "People need support to grow into their potential. So if you've fallen to pieces, then you still have your whole story ahead of you. And I'm getting to see it from the very beginning, maybe. Also," they continue, "if you don't get along with anyone, you must be particularly interesting."    "I have never heard anything like that."    "Well maybe that's what you're missing. I'm Reym, what should I call you?"

   I manage to pull my eyes away from the nothing in particular they were stuck on, glancing over. They're slender, with jet-black hair hanging just past their shoulders. And they're cute. I might've thought they were a girl if I hadn't heard their voice. Although something about them doesn't strike me as being feminine. I was going to try and keep them at a distance, but feelings get the better of me.

   "Arden."    "Nice to meet you, Arden. So what's your deal?"    "As a person? or the thing that's bothering me?"    "I'd like to hear both. Let's start with the former, that's probably important backstory. Oh, uh, if you don't mind."    "I don't mind, but you're awfully forward. How come?"    "Simple answer would be 'why not?', so I think really you're asking why am I not more reserved. That sound right?"    "Yeah."    "Well in that case, hmm." They think for a minute. "You seem safe. I mean, you wouldn't be warning me away if you were some kind of predator. And you seem pretty open, if reluctant. I think I could get something juicy out of you."    "Fair enough, I guess. But I mean, in general, how can you just approach people like this? They're unpredictable, dangerous."    "I have pepper spray. Though I've never had a problem with anyone trying to attack me or something."    "That's.. not what I mean, I guess. I don't know what I'm asking, don't worry about it."    "I think you mean, why am I not afraid of rejection?"    "I think so."    "Well, that's personal. Show me yours first and maybe I'll trust you enough to tell you."    "Alright." I begin, "So, as a person, I'm autistic, I have little to no affective empathy, and I need a lot more for things to 'make sense' to me. The last one is the most significant. It's like I am alone in an empty world. There is nothing there to understand, and no one in there to connect to. And I got hurt, a lot, figuring that out."    "Why are you so open about it if you got hurt so much?"    "Because it doesn't matter. No one to connect to means on one to hide from. Or, on the slim chance that there is someone in there, then I have nothing to lose by sharing. And uh.."    "Yeah?"    "..because monkey brain is stupid and I find you attractive."    "It's stupid to find me attractive?"    "No no, I mean, my perception of how likely a connection is is being skewed by the fact that I really want it to be true."    "Ah, m'kay. Interesting."

   They scoot closer.

   "And what is it that has you preoccupied, Arden?" They ask.    "That's a lot to get into. Are you sure you want to know? And I guess, why?"    "I'm a writer. Weird perspectives like yours open up new worlds of possibilities for me. So yes, I'm sure. If you don't mind."

   "I am losing my mind. I've been dealing with feeling like shit about everything I think and feel and do for most of my life. I'm inclined to say it started with my religious upbringing, they're pretty explicit about teaching you that you are inherently evil. But that's for the sake of manipulation, and all stick and no carrot doesn't work. If I wasn't a freak I would've been getting something in return for giving up my soul. I presume that would have been a sense of belonging. But 'not belonging' is not remotely limited to religion. Or inversely, it seems like pretty much everything people believe is a religion, really."    "How do you mean?"    "I feel what defines a 'religion' is a set of prescriptive beliefs. Enforced by, if nothing else, social ostracism. But there don't seem to be any beliefs that aren't like that. There's nothing that's actually open to discussion in a meaningful way. And there's no one who describes their beliefs in terms of 'Here's this thing I observed, and this is my guess as to why that happened'. It's religion all the way down. Or, there's no meaningful distinction between 'religion' and anything else that people believe."    "Huh."

   They pull out a little notebook from their jacket and write something down.

   "Please continue." They say.    "Okay, so. The thing is, despite feeling guilty about everything, I don't necessarily know what I did, or why it was wrong, and whether I actually even did it in one case. I've been trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong for most of my life and I just can't figure it out. Which has to mean belief does not work the way I thought it does. It's not like I saw that I did harm and felt about that, I felt bad first and my brain went looking for something to pin it on. Meaning, 'guilt' is just an instinctive reaction to perceived rejection. And more broadly, nothing I believe is actually real. More or less. My brain is just making up stories to match my feelings."    "Does that mean you're now an enlightened being who has transcended humanity?"    "Heh, no. That would be like 'transcending' hunger by figuring out that I just need food. And lack of 'food' was the problem in the first place."    "How is figuring out what you need 'losing your mind' though?"    "To get what I need I have to cheat. I accidentally ran across this trick. I imagine sharing a thing with someone else, listen to what they have to say. And then I imagine them sharing the thing with me, and see what I think about it. I mean, they're both 'what I think' but shuffling it around is enough to make my brain feel like I'm interacting with another person. But that feels intuitively revolting, just, wrong. And I don't want to believe that everything people are is just stimulus and response. I want to believe in truth and love and friendship. Even though, that never worked for me. Like, there were six different times I might've killed myself if things had gone a little bit differently. And it's hard to accept. Like, there was one instance where someone took my feeling bad as proof that I knew and understood what I'd done wrong. And it's really hard to not just believe them. It's easier for me to think I must be lying about everything than to think they're just wrong. But then, I've had people telling me I'm lying or making up excuses since before my earliest memories. I guess: if I don't change, it's going to kill me. But if I do change then I'll be ripping up by the roots everything it means to be a person."    "Ooh, heavy stuff. Assuming it is just stimulus and response, what's so hard about it?"    "Ambivalence, I guess. It feels like, or rather felt like, I can almost fit in. I mean, primarily the conflict is between my need to belong and my need for congruence, needing things to make sense. And so long as I don't dig too deeply, things almost seem to work. So long as I have gaps in my knowledge instead of conflicts, there's still hope."    "Could you maybe just not dig too deep?"    "No. I put things together too readily, it would be inevitable even if I don't go looking. And if I could avoid it then my need for congruence wouldn't be met. I never was happy, really."    "So it's just old memories holding you back?"    "I guess I.. yeah. 'Holding me back' though? What, like presuming this is progress?"    "It is, isn't it? I don't know where you're going, but clearly the old thing wasn't working for you."    "I can't argue with that. How do you deal with something like this though? The memories are already in there."    "Have you not changed how you feel about anything? Like, do you still feel guilty about masturbating or whatever?"    "Not as such. And yeah, I do. I know intellectually that the whole Christian taboo on recreational sex was probably instated after the black plague so that the Catholic church could recoup their numbers, but that doesn't help. I wasn't logically argued into it, I can't logically argue out of it."    "What about forming new memories?"    "Easier said than done, but I do have a little bit of experience with that. The new feeling doesn't just replace the old one, I'm stuck with both. I just end up with mixed feelings. Although.."    "Yes?"    "Lately I've been getting glimpses of things. It's fuzzy, but sort of like, if I can perceive a group's behavior as being entirely a function of social pressures then the judgment of the group becomes meaningless to me."    "Could you give me a hypothetical example?"    "..No. If I could then I wouldn't be stuck where I am. It's not coming out right."    "Do you know what's keeping you stuck?"    "It feels like my brain just doesn't want to look at it. Like it knows it's not going to like what it sees."    "Why not?"    "I think, consistency. Confronting this is like jumping off a cliff, and it really wants things to stay the same. Or at least, to not change too much too fast."    "Do you want to change?"    "Heh, well, mixed feelings. I have to. I haven't been coping well lately. I've been running on caffeine as soon as I wake up until the moment I can't stay awake anymore. And for the last two weeks at least there hasn't been a single day where I didn't drink. And it's not working. But, here's the solution. I just have to accept it. But I'm afraid."

   They scoot next to me.

   "Would it help to have company?"    "I don't know whether it would help, but I'd like that. Um," I hesitate, "I want to ask something. But I should ask if I can ask before I ask. But then asking if I can ask is as good as asking in itself."    "Why would you need to ask if you can ask?"    "I dunno, people get upset about it."    "Well I'm not exactly 'people', go for it."    "M-may I hold your hand?"    "Hehe, is that all?"

   They offer their hand. As I take it they weave their fingers between mine. I am overwhelmed with anxiety.

   "Is it stupid to feel insecure about something like this?"    "Maybe. Do you have some reason to think this would go poorly?"    "Yeah."    "And do you have some reason to think it would go well?"    "No."    "Then it doesn't sound stupid to me. How is it?"    "What, your hand?"    "Sure, I've had that hand for a long time you know, I'm quite fond of it."    "I'm not exactly a connoisseur of hands, but it's lovely."    "Aww, thanks."

   I take a moment take a moment to soak it all in; the view, the soothing rain, the warm body sitting next to me.

   "Alright, your turn. What's your deal, Reym? Shouldn't you be angry or disgusted with me by now?"    "I don't see why. But that's just your brain making things up, right? It happened, so you think that's how it supposed to be?"    "Yeah. I suppose so."    "Well maybe that's not how it should be. Maybe people just don't get you."    "I can't argue with the latter, but talking at the problem never helped. Okay I guess that part is more about me. S'yeah, tell me about you. If you're comfortable with that."    "There's not a whole lot to tell. I don't really get along with people either, they never quite follow what I'm getting at. And I kind of just.. don't try anymore."    "After all this, you're telling me you don't try?"    "I mean, I throw stuff out there just to see what I get back. But it's been a while since I really tried to communicate. People just don't see 'me', ya' know?"    "I can imagine."    "It's lonely."

   They squeeze my hand, I squeeze back.

   "How do you deal with it?"    "I just avoid thinking about it, get lost in my imagination."    "Does that actually work?"    "Mostly."    "What do you do when it doesn't?"    "I find somewhere quiet to sit and think."

   "Do you like what you're getting back?"    "Maybe. Do you still think I shouldn't talk to you?"    "I don't know. I'm not really thinking straight anymore."    "It doesn't really matter anyway, right?"    "I don't want to cause trouble for anyone else."    "Shouldn't that be their decision too?"    "I've never thought about it like that. Not that it would've come up, but everything has always been all my fault."    "You warned me, and it's not like you're hiding something, clearly. So whatever happens next is my fault, isn't it?"    "I don't know, I'm confused. I don't have a good way to phrase this, but I think I'd believe whatever how you treat me indicates I should."    "Yeah that is some terrible phrasing. Are you saying, if I act as though you are valuable to me, then you will believe you are valuable?"    "Yeah."    "And hypothetically, if I only acted that way when you were doing something for me, then you'd get your sense of self-worth from serving me?"    "Probably, yeah, if you could make that make sense."    "Is that something you should be telling someone you just met?"    "It's already happening whether I tell you or not. Really I think it's how people already work, that they generally just have enough reinforcement to keep them stable."    "It doesn't have to happen. I could leave you alone if you prefer that I don't interfere."    "..Please interfere."

   "Alright. I'll be gentle."    "Thanks."    "Unless you'd like me to be rough?"    "Hehh, I'm uh, really not ready for that conversation yet."    "Mm'kay. So then, Arden, what do you do when you're not having an existential crisis?"

   We keep chatting until the light fades and it gets too cold to stay, and walk back under my umbrella. We exchange contact information and promise to meet up later. On the drive home I feel like I'm floating. And that night I drift off to sleep feeling content in a way I've never known before.

[sleepyivoryrose]

Tomorrow is the day!

I’m so excited, I hope everything goes well and I am not too stupid to enter the right train. I reeeally hope I can spend a nice holiday with my friend in her surroundings. 

Please, god, let this go smoothly and work out well. Don’t let me forget stuff at home that I need or board the wrong train or something. Just...let me have this. Please. 

I also talked today to my mother. She confirmed that my parents don’t really talk to me anymore because “they want to give me emotional independence.” How weird that they just cared after we had a gigantic fight at Silvester. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I’m better off semi-alone anyways. 

I wonder why it is so much fun to talk to myself though, and my mothers statement only made me think about it more. Maybe because I have always been a lonely person and going solo? When I came to the country I live in now, I almost didn’t know the language and the kids kept laughing at me for that. I learned almost all of the language I know now from books, television and videogames. That would also explain why I am more comfortable in the fictional world than the real world, i guess? 

Well, no use pondering over it now, and pitying myself never solved anything. I should be happy! Tomorrow I get to see my online friend! It’s gonna be great. I hope I don’t annoy her too much with my weirdness. I know I can be a bit annoying at times. 

Maybe I can surprise her and invite her to something to eat? After all, she will go through all the trouble to welcome me. 

On another note, It’s also the first time I booked a hotel. I’m...not good with new things or changes. It makes me sick to the stomach, as brutal as it may sound. Hope everything works out alright. 

Do I have something a bit more uplifting to think about...? Well, it is the big day tomorrow, so I assume it’s only natural that my thoughts spin like a carusel around that. 

Oh, right! I went drinking boba-tea today. It’s a new hobby of mine. I always get myself a creme brûlee tea and sit down to watch people, and today also the rain. It’s been pouring these last few days. Anyways, I never manage to eat all the boba though. I don’t know if my technique is wrong or if I’m just clumsy, but I always feel awful to throw half of the boba away, because I can’t drink it properly. How do people do that? 

Very yummy though. Totally worth it. 

I started with my friend a soulsilver soullocke...we already lost a few of our members to Bugsy. That Scyther sure can pack a punch. Or a slice, considering its arms. I am already scared of Whitney and her mighty Miltank...

Holy shit it is windy today. The traffic lights are swaying, just like the trees. I love wind, it’s like a friend, but when I see how it forces its way through the landscape it does get a bit scary. 

(...)

The woman who helps me clean my room (it sounds more boojie than it is, believe me, I’m just chronically ill and need a lot of help) just came by to wish me a good trip tomorrow. That was very nice of her. 

I want to do more things by myself, it’s always embarrassing, when other people have to help you with basic stuff that other people manage easily, but...I have problems with my motivation. Sometimes I wonder if I have a slight case of ADHD. Maybe I’m just a lazy bum, who knows. The will is there, just...my body won’t move. I have two wolves in my chest...

Talking about wolves, my friend always teases me that I’m a furry. But liking Kemonomimis isn’t furry, right?! It’s just ears and tails? I still like a human...though, when I think about how Mia x Elk was my first ship...well, I guess low key furry. Ever-so-slightly. Like, you have to use a microscope to see it. A tiny furry hair on my clothes. 

Maybe I’m writing too much. But it keeps me relaxed while I wait to the day to end. Damn, it’s still 15:00. I could do something else...

But my heart is jumping out of my chest, and I have shivers. Maybe just a little more...?

In another post, maybe, this one’s long enough. 

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[teenageheartthrob]

Final Exit- Part 3 (Stucky x Reader)

Series Summary: Bucky is injured during a mission. It's up to you and Steve to rescue him, but is it too late?

Category: Angst, fluff

Ship: Steve x Reader x Bucky (Stucky x Reader)

Trigger Warnings: injury, mentions of death

Word Count: 1.4 k

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

The night was already grim. Rain and harsh winds smacked against glass windows, threatening everyone inside with its force. 

Shaky, shallow breaths wracked heavy coughs through Bucky Barnes’ body. Being told you are unlikely to survive the week, he realised now, really did squash any dash of hope left inside you. 

Bucky had always thought, no, known, that the most noble act he could commit was laying down his life for a cause. Until a few years ago, he didn’t have a cause, then you came into his life. Steve was always more than a friend to the soldier, but you were the missing piece that completed them both. 

In the evenings, it was common for you or Steve to sit by his side, often both, but with your other partner effectively shutting himself off from you, it was getting harder and harder to be around him- and now Bucky’s puzzle had a missing piece.

That night in question, Bucky had thought it was a Sunday, you had come in as usual to sit with him. Most of what you did during those hours was talk to him- telling him about your day and anything else you could think of that wouldn’t make him more scared for what was coming. 

“Hey, baby,” you’d said, taking Bucky’s noticeably frail hand in your own. You tried not to move his shoulder too much, not knowing if he could still feel the pain or was too far gone. “I just want you to know…I’m not upset. Not with you, anyway.”

The former soldier’s heart had a sudden, deep pang as he realised that you and Steve weren’t holding up as well you had been letting on. If he could have cried, he thought a tear may have slipped down his cheek at the thought of being the reason for you and Steve falling apart. 

He knew he wasn’t going to be a part of your relationship for much longer, at least in life, all he hoped was that the two of you got the happy-ever-after he knew you both deserved.

Your voice broke as you sniffed, unconsciously checking over your shoulder for Steve. You needed a moment alone with Bucky, you needed to say this. 

“I have never been prouder of you than I was last week. You saved so many people, Buck. And I know you think that you need to make up for your past mistakes or something, but I promise you, you don’t own anyone a thing.”

You were openly sobbing now, the strain grew on Bucky’s heart as he could do nothing to comfort you. Not even having the strength to open his weary eyes, he lay there, letting your voice wash over him like a warm blanket. 

Never once had you or Steve judged him for the indiscretions of his past. Neither of you saw him as that man, it was someone completely different to the one before you- who was so warm and innocent, in sickness and in health. Everyone saw that side to Bucky eventually. Even Tony, who had finally come around after learning how his parents truly died. 

Just like then, you and Steve would fight with him and for him. Till the end of the line. 

You cleared your throat and the brunet felt your breath against his cheek. 

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

With that, you left. 

You didn’t have to verbalise to Bucky the meaning behind your words, he knew that was your way of saying goodbye. 

As he lay there in thought, he yet again pondered life after death. In the end, he decided he was ready to face whatever lay on the other side. God’s judgement be damned, he had already experienced heaven with you two. 

Unknown to Bucky, Dr. Cho had informed his loves that this was likely to be one of his last nights. Of course, he probably could have told you that himself, had he been able to function on a human level. 

Steve decided the night should be like any other that week. 

The blond and yourself entered the brunet’s room at about 8pm, a few hours after your initial goodbye to one half of your life. 

Steve was carrying the third Harry Potter novel in his hand. It was one of the longest series he could think to read to his sick partner, and he was grateful for his choice, as the pastime had already burnt through two books so far that week. 

This was the routine. 

Steve was reading to you both in a hushed, even tone, and you held Bucky’s hand, trying to let your tears fall anywhere but on him. 

You weren’t concentrating on the blond’s narration, far from it. All you could think to do was try and memorise the way Bucky’s hands felt in yours, the way his skin moved against your own. 

You knew what was coming, you just wanted him to be at peace. Steve yelled at you for it when he found out but you didn’t care, you knew what your boyfriend needed. 

“Let go for me, James,” you had told him, leaning down to whisper as confidently as you could in his ear, “It's all going to be okay, baby. You can let go now.”

—-

You didn’t sleep that night, not that you did any other. Somehow, deep down, you knew what would be waiting for you when you woke up.

When Steve Rogers found out, he had already been in the small library of the Avengers compound for three hours, where he could have been found any time in the past few days. He had his nose buried in one medical textbook after another, searching for answers, signs of hope.

He found out just as Gray’s Anatomy had failed him for a second time. 

When you found out, you were in bed. You felt extremely guilty about this, at least Steve was doing something productive. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed, to face it- your new reality. 

When you found out, your head was buried in the pillows, trying to block out any noise that wasn’t the sound of your partner’s voices. 

Bucky had done what you said, he let go. 

It was peaceful, and as cliche as it was, the light he saw had a warm embrace. He left this earth knowing he had accomplished some good, and he thought that was pretty alright. He left only one regret with his passing- that he never got to marry the loves of his life.

It was a Monday when Bucky Barnes died. He lasted longer than anyone had thought possible and although it would be the right thing to say you were glad his suffering was over, you were the furthest thing from it. 

Now that Bucky was gone, actually gone, you felt a hole inside you, where you’d previously felt numb. A big, gaping bullet wound of a hole that your living partner couldn’t and wouldn’t attempt to soothe. 

James Barnes was stupid and selfish and you were angry. The kind of anger that swells in your gut for days and you know there’s a very real chance that you may kill whoever it is unleashed on. The kind of anger that boils your blood and courses through your fingertips like lightning bolts do from Mjolnir. 

‘Funny how quickly death changed your perception,’ you thought. Until the brunet died, you genuinely weren’t angry. But now he was gone, and everything was different, horrible. 

Others around the compound tried to console you, but they weren’t who you needed. Bucky was gone and you weren’t getting him back. The only one who understood that pain was Steve. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t considered what you and Steve would do if-when, Bucky passed. You had assumed you would stay together, trying somehow to continue on and honour your boyfriend’s spirit, his memory. 

Now you weren’t so sure.

It had taken Steve three days after Bucky’s death to even sleep in the same bed as you, crawling beneath the covers and burying his head in the crook of your neck. Each of you cried each other to sleep that night, a mix of relief for the end of Bucky’s suffering and pain for your own loss. 

However…

There were also tears of happiness shed, as well as those of confusion and a lover’s desperate, raw, hope.

It was the same Monday when Bucky Barnes arose from the dead. No one was quite sure how. As Steve Rogers could likely now recite to you, there is a roughly 4 minute long window in which you’re likely to reverse clinical death without the risk of brain damage. 

He had been gone for 16. 

But Bucky Barnes was alive. 

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

Almost finished! Parts 4 and 5 should just about round off the series, keep an eye out.

Taglist: @maryam0831

[dokifluffs]

Switched | Suna Rintarou

Pairing: Suna X Reader (gender neutral) 

Genre: fox! cuteeee flufff tehe 

Author’s Note: @utskushiwaarudo​ once said “what if READER is the baby fox and inarizaki (or only one to two of them) is being domestic and taking care of them and they’re like omg y/n careful not to spill the food *napkin wipe*” so here I am months later ah ha ha 

Gif from @rivaillerose​ 💛

Dark storm clouds gathered all over the sky, not letting a single ray of sunlight in on what could’ve been what of the most beautiful days of the year

Suna laid on his stomach, his back slowly rising and falling, arms curled beneath the pillow his face was nuzzled into

He woke from his deep slumber when a loud boom sounded through the sky, making the ground vibrate

The blanket slid down his body, sliding off to reveal his toned bare back as he rose from the deep slumber he was immersed in

Your own mind began to pick up in activity as you felt the bed ship as Suna woke

Then it occurred to you how last night was the full moon

Today would be the day Suna would be in his little fox form, and it was honestly one of your favorite days of the month since he was especially cuddly

The way he would nuzzle into your lap as he slept all day

“Huh? How am I still-“ Suna looked at his very human hands, his brown hair disheveled from sleep until he saw you move as you woke

“Oh god…” Suna’s eyes went wide as he stared at you

Your body was as small as a newborn baby as you stretched sleepily, your bushy tail lazily wagging side to side, which he assumed you didn’t notice since you looked up to him with a fondness he normally woke up to

“Y/N… Don’t freak out..” His voice was low but you were more confused, especially how he scooped you into your arms, bringing you to the bathroom

Bright sunlight shined in through the skylight as he held you in his arms, standing the two of you in front of the mirror

You looked up to him numerous times as his eyes stayed on you through the mirror

Your pointed ears, dark brown fur that matched Suna’s hair, a bushy tail dangling over his elbow

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you panicked, swarming rapidly in his arms

You couldn’t even look at yourself in disbelief

“No, no, no, why- how?” You thought as you whined as you moved frantically in his arms, he was losing control

“Y/N, wait, you’re gonna- fall…” He winced hearing your loud cry as your body fell from his arms onto the cold tiled ground, scratches littering his bare arms and torso

A sore, aching pain waved through your body as your heart pounded rapidly in your, now little, chest

You had never been a fox before, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around as to why this happened, but you were uncoordinated with your body

Suna recalled the numerous stories and memories of his childhood when he first changed

His legs wobbled

He didn’t know what to do with his tail

He didn’t know how to do anything and all he could do was watch as his being was in a fox’s body and it was after a year

And now this was happening to you

But you were so shaken up, Suna’s heart dropped seeing the fear in your eyes

“Y/N, calm- Stop you’re going to hurt yourself,” He raised his voice higher as you whined, your feet slipping over the tiled floor as you tried to run away as if running could bring your body back to normal

“Don’t move, I got you, alright?” He knelt down, the sun shining from behind his body through the window, he seemed so ethereal through your eyes as he inched his way closer to you

You were shaking, back arched, tail curled in between your legs, claws sliding over the tiled floor as Suna spoke to you

It was so weird since you could understand him yet he couldn’t understand you

“I’m going to pick you up okay?”

You took deep breaths as your heart pounded in your chest

He carefully lifted you into his arms as a puppy, your nails just digging into his arms slightly out of fear but it wasn’t a pain he couldn’t handle

You whimpered as he brought you back to bed, sitting you carefully in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed

“You’ve been the one taking care of me for years whenever I had to change, so now it’s my turn. You’re going to be okay, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised as you looked up to him

The way you looked at him pulled at his heart

You were too adorable in this form

Your ears back, eyes wide and glistening and watering

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” he cracked a rare smile as he pat your head, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that had formed in your eyes

“You’ll be alright,” he leaned down, mumbling to your warm, fuzzy head, a rare gesture from Suna since he had always been one to internalize his thoughts and emotions

Rarely one to be the one to show his affection first, only sometimes in private, yet he did it right now as easy as breathing

“I got you,” Suna mumbled

Your heart melted at his words as you whimpered his love

You couldn’t tell if it was now that you were in this new fox form or what but you couldn’t help but let your heart melt at Suna

He sat you on the corner of the bed where you could still see him as he brushed his teeth and washed his face, finally putting a shirt on afterward

You felt so stiff as you sat there, not wanting to move, not wanting to rip the sheets or to fall or anything

You didn’t want to do anything except switch back to normal

After getting dressed and ready for the day, Suna lifted you into his arms like a child as he stroked his hand down your back side

“Is this what it feels like?” You thought to yourself as you let out a sigh, relaxing against his arms and touch, your muscles following his touch as you melted 

“it feels so... good, no wonder he falls asleep so fast when I do it,” you yawned, your tongue automatically licking your own nose after you did so, something you’ve always seen other animals, and Suna, do and now that it was your turn, it felt so strangely natural 

He carried you down the stairs in his arms as the rain bounced off the glass of the skylight that illuminated the stairwell just enough for the stairs to be visible 

You could sort of feel suna’s skin but all you could really feel was a thin constant layer of warmth, and warmer areas where his body was pressed to you 

“I’ll make breakfast,” he said as he stood in the entrance to the kitchen, humming to himself in thought 

“where can I put them...” Suna stood there for almost a whole minute as you just stayed still in his arms, not knowing what to do since you couldn’t really do anything anyways 

even moving around in his grasp was nerve wracking 

you did not need to fall or break anything or hurt yourself 

And suna knew this too as he thought

you were more than capable of being by yourself since you could handle yourself but he also wanted to keep an eye on you while he was in the kitchen but leaving you on the floor would be dirty and cold 

but leaving you on a chair would be scary if you were to fall and hurt yourself 

“Y/N, I’m going to leave you on the couch and then I’ll bring it over when it’s all ready, alright?”

He turned back, headed toward the living room toward the couches 

He leaned over, reaching his arms to put you down 

“It’s okay, you won’t hurt yourself at this height,” he smiled as your paws wrapped around his forearms, tail curling around as well. “I got you.” 

You slowly let go, trusting Suna as he set you down onto the plush cushion 

“You’re gonna be alright,” he patted your head as you sat on the couch 

It felt so weird 

like, you had control over your legs and arms like normal but sitting and standing and walking, it all felt so strange yet natural at the same time 

And this was what Suna and the other inariaki team went through once a month 

Suna stood in the kitchen, thinking about what he could possibly make with his skills 

but now that he actually thought about it, it was always you who really fed him aside from Osamu 

All he could think of to do was the standard cereal with milk 

Suna wasn’t as skilled as you to do fancy things like make eggs and pancakes and such 

He carried over two bowls of cereal with milm over to the living room, setting one on the coffee table that was just tall enough to be the same level as the couch cushion you were on 

He sat besides you as he ate a big of his cereal before setting his bowl down and watched you 

“How am I supposed to eat this?” You pondered as you stared at the cereal before you 

You licked up the milk like a cat but you wanted the actual cereal before it got too soggy 

You obviously couldn’t use your spoon

you ended up sticking your.. snout.. into the bowl, the cold milk stinging your nose but you were able to eat the cereal 

it was good and even your tail wagged but it wasn;t the cleanest 

“careful, Y/N,” Suna laughed as he plucked a few tissues, wiping your chin as well as the spilt milk around the bowl 

Suna did as he said he would and watched you for the rest of the day, taking care of you

although he did have to call osamu on how to make some things but aside from that, it was fine 

it was a very new experience for the both of you 

but it showed you such a new side of Suna he never really expressed before  

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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