#but also warmer clothes and things she wants to leave with him

[maabelasdaruth]

Amelin Lavellan packing Solas a travel bag before fighting Corephyus because even going into the fight of her life, she's still thinking about him and what comes after.

[silkentine]

Wha--?! Silk finally finished her fem Zoro design after (checks notes) literally 6 months since she made the canvas in procreate?

I'll break down design thoughts and share some fun bonus pics under the cut:

I LOVE long hair on Zoro, I think that was the first change I wanted to implement. Zoro in canon actually has a really interesting relationship with gender dynamics which (if for some reason you're reading this and you haven't watched One Piece) can seem out of left field for the "dumb brute" character. His rivalry with and reverence for Kuina suggests he doesn't adhere to the idea that women are weaker than men. Later on, however, during his confrontation with Monet and Tashigi during Punk Hazard, his hesitation to slash her down reveals that he's subconsciously over-protective of women because he thinks they're inherently weaker. I actually don't have any problem with this character trait, I think it makes him feel more real as a person and he obviously gets shit-talked enough about it in the story itself. But how did I want to reflect these beliefs if Zoro had been born a woman? Easy: internalized misogyny and applying value to herself via her appearance.

My version of Zoro grew up wanting to fight with swords but her only chance of entering the dojo was to work under the proprietress, Lady Shimotsuki to maintain the property, cook meals for the male students, and eventually be a good wife to the current heir, Kuina. She learns that, to get what she wants, she must be the ideal woman, even if she stays up all night training swordsmanship with Kuina when she isn't supposed to. He treats her love for swordplay seriously and treats her like an equal, which sparks a bond between them and eventually leads to Zoro's goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman after his sudden, accidental death.

After years of intense training (now that Lady Shimotsuki admits that she'll need a new heir and Zoro is the closest thing she has) Zoro's finally old enough to leave and begin her journey. She starts letting go of the idea that she has to look pulled together to be taken seriously because she can just kill anyone who looks down on her. Her clothing falls into disrepair, she wears outfits that help her move in combat, and she starts tossing her hair up into messy, knotted buns under her bandana. Even so, she keeps her hair long like rolling hills of grass. (At least during pre-timeskip. She lops off her hair to prove to Mihawk that she's serious about being trained.)

I've put her in a thin sweater that she stitches (poorly) back together after her first interaction with Mihawk. (I kept one sleeve because I was inspired by the santoryuu Nami that Oda drew that one time.) I also wanted to girl-ify the ubiquitous haramaki so I picked leg warmers for her because I think they're sufficiently "dated" enough to be kinda analogous with his old man belly warmer. I also love gyaru fashion, sue me.

Here is a screenshot of her as a blonde:

And here is a sketch of her post-timeskip where she's fully embraced her butch nature:

Hubba hubba, am I right?

Check out my tag "girl piece original design" to see more of my genderbending art! Next post, I'll put all my East Blue Crew designs together! I can't believe it's taken this long but I AM SO HAPPPPPYYYYY

[sillyboycam]

“I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”

“Oh would ya’?~”

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

I told you they’ve been on my mind.

Oh yeah, I also watched one of my favourite movies httyd2 and y’know… got a little into it as usual..

I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while, definitely before I watched httyd2 but AFTER watching season 2 of Arcane I decided “Man, this would make a GREAT drawing” .

And here we are!

Anyways this is a sort of “Au” I’ve made, Viktor as Valka, leaving and everyone thinking he’s “dead”.

While I put Jayce as Stoic, because, in retrospect they’re both people of power. Leaders that have a pretty tough life, along with losing their loved one(s). Also, Jayce finally got a beard and you know what Stoic looks like.

Since Valka and Stoic obviously had Hiccup, in my mind I think Jayce and Viktor both adopted a kid to be theirs. (Also to be the next chieftain, since they’re both men of course.) His name is Jekkel, and he’s similar to each of them in terms of appearance. His personality leaning a little towards Viktor’s rather than Jayce’s.

They’d also adopt a little girl named Viyati. (They were especially happy with the name since they picked it themselves) Viyati is the youngest dragon rider of her tribe so far. Her personality is definitely more like Jayce’s as she’s always putting herself and her brother out there. With, of course, boundaries kept in place as Jekkel isn’t usually one to actually want to be out there.

So Viyati always respects him and his needs.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s dragon would be a LightFury,

Jayce’s would be a TimberJack,

Jekkel’s would be a DeathSong,

And (ironically) I think I’d give Viyati a Screaming Death. (ie, smallest little dragon rider gets a big ass scary looking dragon, and it loves her)

>>>>>>

In this Au neither Jayce nor Viktor would die, but, would come super duper close to it many, many times.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s clothes consist of a big white hood rimmed with white tipped red fur, and lots of designs traced onto the hood itself in an off-white.

A black Viking tunic with purple embroidery along the edges and the neckline adorns him, with armour on his chest. Black and scaled.

His arms would be wrapped in white leather from the forearm down, tied in neat bows.

Giant white fur boots with black pants is what he wears on the daily. A spiky belt adorns his sleek waist.

Last thing, he has black scaled arm warmers! In which the white leather wraps around. In a cute bow of course.

>>>>>>

Jayce’s outfit would be a bit more complex, as well as the kids, so if you’d like me to go more in depth I’d be happy too! (Just not in this post, I’m not one to make long descriptions lol)

>>>>>>

Viktor is actually married to Jayce in this one! Their wedding was beautifully done (weeps…) and their rings were gorgeous. This means, the whole family is a Talis!

So that’s; Jayce Talis, Viktor Talis, Jekkel Talis, and Viyati Talis. Also Jayce’s mother, Ximena Talis. She’s a very important figure in the village, a wizard with talents for medicine.

>>>>>>

I have tons of more ideas and I’d love to tell you them all. If you’re interested, let me know!

Anyways this might’ve already been done… but I’m not sure. If it has do let me know! I’d love to chat with that person ;]

Okay,

I hope you enjoy this one!

Love you all

as always art is by me —————> @sillyboycam

[lovexdeepspace]

hi! can you pls do an alternative version of the breakup of the l&ds men?? instead of making up and forgiving them, reader just flat out rejects them and kicks them out or reader has found someone new and the boys get a taste of their own medicine??

also love your work!!

“life without you.” (v2)

summary; once your trust is broken, there’s nothing xavier, zayne, or rafayel can do to undo the damage they’ve done.

warnings; angst, sadness, heartbreak

note; as much as i — along with others — needed a happy ending to the original post, the itch to do this was in the back of my head and i’m glad others wanted it too! ( credit to @neverlandlostchild for helping me immensely with this idea, i am so so grateful towards them and @noclue-0 for advocating for this idea alongside anon!! )

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

part 1 | happier ending

༊*·˚ . xavier

curled up on the couch with remote in hand, you were absentmindedly scrolling through movies when there was a loud knock at your door.

food’s finally here, you thought excitedly while kicking the blanket off your legs. you grabbed your wallet and fished out a ten to tip the driver before heading to the door.

“thank you so — much.”

the last word fell flat as you opened the door only to find xavier standing there. he looked at you with half-lidded, tired eyes and a tight-lipped grimace as you took in the shell of a man standing before you.

his clothes were wrinkled and stained; his hair was messy and it was evident he hadn’t showered in at least a couple of days. his cheeks were red and tear-stained and you couldn’t help but think that he looked downright pitiful.

“xavier, what’re you doing here?” you asked, pocketing the money before crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought i made myself clear.”

the blonde rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “i know but i just couldn’t get you off my mind. i miss you and what we had.”

you raised a brow at him. “things with her didn’t work out?”

“she doesn’t matter,” xavier retorted with a frown. he stepped closer to you and you stepped back just as fast. “you’re all that matters to me and —”

he stopped as a voice behind you called your name and, a moment later, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you felt your face flush as sylus pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“food’s here?” he asked you as his eyes moved from you to xavier. noticing the lack of food and the subdued yet very evident fury in xavier’s eyes, he quickly added, “guess not.”

“i’m —” xavier started but you held up a hand to cut him off.

“i think it’s best if you left, xavier,” you interrupted, leaning back against sylus. “we’re trying to have a relaxing evening.”

xavier faltered, giving you an incredulous stare before nodding slowly. “right. i guess i’ll leave, then.”

you gave him an unenthusiastic half-wave and shut the door in his face, leaving him alone in the hallway of your apartment building.

he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes as he heard you and sylus laughing about something behind the closed door before forcing himself to walk away.

༊*·˚ . rafayel

with the days finally getting warmer you refused to stay holed up in your apartment all the time, often opting for outings to the park for some fresh air.

on a particularly fateful day, you were standing in the shade of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, admiring the picnic you had set up so perfectly. with your hands on your hips you racked your mental checklist, making sure everything was set out and ready for your —

“well, well, long time no see.”

shit.

pinching the bridge of your nose, you didn’t even bother to look over your shoulder as you addressed rafayel with a dull, “what do you want?”

rafayel clicked his tongue, sidling up to you. “aww, c’mon, that’s no way to treat your favorite artist.”

“you say that as if you have any right to be my favorite anything,” you retorted, side-eyeing him with a frown. he was watching you with that usual cocky grin but you could tell time had not been the kindest to him — dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair, and this awful odor that made you gag as he moved closer.

“about that,” he muttered, trying (and failing) to put on that usual innocent guise that would’ve had a more naive version of you falling head over heels, “it’s been a while since i’ve last seen you. i’ve changed, i promise. i’ll be a better —”

“you won’t be anything, not to me at least,” you snapped, stepping away from him. “go run back to whatever her name is, since you wanted her so bad. i’m waiting for someone and don’t need you scaring them away looking like a lost puppy.”

rafayel staggered backwards at your harsh words, his demeanor changing as the idea of you seeing someone else really sunk in.

“who are you —”

“ah, fuck.”

rafayel’s jaw clenched as he slowly turned, eyes ablaze as they settled on thomas. his manager offered a sheepish grin before quickly heading to your side, muttering an apology to you.

“i can’t believe this,” the artist hissed, looking between the two of you. you shrugged nonchalantly and drove the point further by placing your hand in thomas’, slotting your fingers between his. “you - and you —!!”

“you made your choice,” you said plainly. “now, would you please leave? i’d like to enjoy my afternoon.”

rafayel gaped at you before muttering something under his breath, turning on his heel and storming away. the last thing he needed was for you to see the way tears had started to form in his eyes or the ugly sobbing that came seconds later as soon as he was out of sight.

༊*·˚ . zayne

you had finally found some balance in your life, a rarity that you held onto desperately. things had finally calmed down months after your breakup with zayne and you had bounced back in ways you didn’t even imagine.

hell, you even found yourself putting yourself out there and — with your newfound confidence — things were going really well for you!

so well, in fact, that you were sitting in the destiny cafè with a book in hand while you waited for your partner to return with your order. so captivated by the text, you didn’t look up when the chair across from you was once again occupied. it was only when the occupant said your name did you grimace and take a mental note of the page number before closing the book and setting it down in front of you.

“gods i do not have the energy to talk to you right now,” you said bluntly, putting your head in your hands. “or ever, for that matter.”

“well, hello to you as well,” zayne replied, sitting up straighter in his chair as you took your hands away to glare at him. “you look beautiful.”

“i know,” you deadpanned. giving him a once-over, you can’t see much difference from the last time you saw him save for the fact he looks more sleep deprived than usual. “now, let me be direct: i don’t want to talk to you.”

zayne sighed. “fine, but i need to talk to —”

he was cut off by the soft thunk! of two mugs being firmly set down on the table.

“here you are, pipsqueak.” caleb slid one mug in your direction with a sweet smile then turned to zayne. his expression quickly became menacing hidden behind a fake smile. “i’d say it’s nice to see you again, zayne, but i’m about three seconds from punching your face in. get out of my seat and leave my partner alone.”

zayne’s jaw clenched as he looked from caleb to you. “i just need to talk to them.”

caleb laughed and leaned in a little the smile dropping from his face. “you don’t need to do anything, zayne. so how about you get out of my seat and go yap to that girl you were getting all handsy with, hm?”

the air was thick and you could only watch with a smirk as zayne stood and quickly exited the cafè. caleb reclaimed his seat and reached across the table to give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“you okay?” he asked, grabbing his mug with his other hand and taking a sip.

you nodded and squeezed his hand in return. “better now.”

[taliseby]

Belovedly Cold

Their Girlfriend is Naturally Cold (in Winter)

Inc. Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, and Kamo Choso. Fem!Reader

Warnings: NONE! Fluffy!

Gojo Satoru

Honestly, he’s the same. Satoru also runs pretty cold naturally and doesn’t really think twice about it most of the time. During winter he’s like a lizard, seeking out warmth where he can, often having hand warmers in his pockets. The tips of his ears would always be red so he wears earmuffs when it's cold. 

Poor baby will stick his hands, holding the hand warmers, into your jacket pockets so your hands could warm up together. He nuzzles his nose against yours and pecks your lips. “Is that better, cutie? Your fingers are so cold.” 

You guys have a total NEST in your bed because you both get so cold. Heaters up, warm pjs on, the whole shebang. He makes you both mugs of hot chocolate, his is completely decked out with marshmallows, whipped cream, and some cinnamon on top. You two sit inside your little bundle of comfort, watching movies or your favorite show together. Cuddles are a must, unless you want him sulking and huffing about it. 

Despite your shared __ to the cold, she still wants to take you out to do all the holiday stuff. See the lights, play in the snow, go see the mall decorations. He takes you with him to do Christmas shopping, letting you know he already bought your gifts and has them hidden somewhere secret.

Geto Suguru

Suguru, on the other hand, runs pretty warm. He’ll keep your hands in his so your fingers don't get cold. If that doesn’t help enough he brings your hands up to his lips, softly blowing warm air onto your hands as he cups them in his. Once your hands feel better, he softly kisses your knuckles and lets you go. Though, he can see you immediately pouting as the cold hits your hands once again. 

He will let you sit in the car while he runs errands so you can relax with the heater on if you want. If not he makes sure you're bundled up well. He’s got two daughters, so he naturally keeps certain things like scarfs, gloves, and coats around for his girls and his love. You say your hands are cold? He’s pointing to the glovebox where you find gloves and hand warmers. Ears a little red? He reaches into a little bag in the backseat to get you earmuffs. He’s PREPARED. 

Shows up at your workplace on cold days with hot cocoa/coffee and a warm meal for you and a pack of hand warmers. He reminds you to stay warm and not spend too much time outside. He’d drop anything he’s doing (cult shit) to bring you anything you need to stay warm. 

Always tries to be home before you so he can turn on the heaters and warm up the house for you. If he can’t he asks the girls if they would for him so the house stays warm. Sometimes if he doesn’t get home before you, he’ll surprise you and the girls with warm food when he finally comes home. Honestly, his favorite thing is coming home to see his three loves cuddled up on the couch in their cozy clothes and blankets.

Nanami Kento

He’s so attentive, making sure you are bundled up before leaving the house. He even keeps an extra coat in his car just in case you leave the house without one. He’d hate to see you sick, though he’d take care of you if you were. 

Honestly, his hands and feet get pretty cold during the winter, but the rest of him is pretty warm. You’ll catch him subtly putting his hands under his arms to use his own body heat to warm his hands up. He says he keeps hand warmers for you but he is often using them himself. 

Tends to take you out to lunch during the work day more often during the cold season. Just to make sure you're keeping warm and eating properly. Though, he very much enjoys getting to take a break with you mid-day.

Because he tends to get a little warmer, he lets you hog the blankets at night, though he might sneak his arms in to hold you close. That alone is enough to keep you both happy and comfortable. He gets to stay cool and cuddle his favorite person and you get to be cozied up and still have your love holding you. Nights together are arguably the best, especially knowing he’ll be there when you wake. 

Unless he gets up early to make breakfast to surprise you. Then you wake up pouty and feeling over the cold spot on his side of the bed. When he returns there is a blanket lump that has migrated over to his side, cuddling up to his pillow. He has a tray of two plates and mugs for breakfast in bed. “Dear, it's time to wake up, I made some food for us. Would you like to watch our show this morning?”

Kamo Choso

He also runs a little cold but doesn’t really notice it. Whether it's because it doesn’t affect him or because he’s grown used to it is to be determined, but he never really has much of a reaction. Except when the wind blows. The cold breeze on snowy days makes him shiver and huddle closer to you. “Are you cold, love? Do you need my jacket?” Would offer you the clothes off his back if it didn't make him look like a nudist in the wild. 

He feels bad, but he thinks your reddened nose and visible breath is so cute. He knows you’re cold, so he tries to huddle close and keep you warm. A little pout will grace his lips if you mention the cold. “Should we go home? I don’t want you getting too cold?”

Your first winter together, he quickly learns that his favorite thing is getting to stay in and do cold weather things. You made the cocoa while he laid out blankets and pillows on the couch for you. At one point you even made a blanket fort and used your laptop to watch classic Christmas movies. Some that you wanted and a few that Yuji suggested to Choso. His favorites were The Nightmare Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol, and The Polar Express. Now, he sings the hot chocolate song whenever you make it, mumbling under his breath.

These are a bit shorter because I didn't wanna be repetitive.

[midnight-fables]

Entry 16: Well-Versed Pas De Deux

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 16: Bonfire

Summary: Carmy is struggling with menu changes for the next month, his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) reminds him of the bonfire they were supposed to attend, and she does a little thing that gets right under his skin. Smut.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, mention of family trauma, mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. If you want to keep following this set of works, you can follow the #cb journal tag.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

16 Oct 2024

My apartment, now back up to two bad radiators (this is how I’m keeping track of time anymore, how many radiators are still working. These fucking pieces of shit can go burn in hell with the landlord. I swear to God, I’m having nightmares of them breaking at critical moments, this is stupid as fuck. RADIATORS.). I’m at the dining table with three half-formed dishes for the November menu changes staring at me—one of them was the duck with apple glaze that Tina proposed, I’m pretty sure. The others? No idea. This head’s a colander. I don’t know how I do anything, for fuck’s sake. Best chef award, my ass.

“Carmy? Baby?” Darling’s voice ripped me out of my thoughts.

She hovered between the kitchen and living room. Had going-out clothes on, that sweater with the—were they cables? I think they’re called cables—her fleece-lined jeans that she patched the knee of with flannel from a very old shirt of mine, hat. Holding a scarf.

“Hm? Sorry. Sorry, I’m… fuck.” I dragged my hands through my hair, rubbed my eyes. “Sorry, these menu changes are killing me. I didn’t hear a word you said, I’m so sorry.”

She shuffled over, wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay; it happens.”

I nuzzled her sweater. Took a deep inhale of her scent.

“I was asking if you still want to go to the bonfire.”

Bonfire? My stomach dropped through the floor. Fuck, that was today, wasn’t it?

“Shit.” I looked at the clock. 7:09 pm.

“It’s okay, we’ll still make it on time if we leave in 15 minutes. If you still want to go.”

“I-I don’t, uh—fuck.” Shit. My face flooded with warmth. Shit, I even had it in my calendar, how the fuck did I forget? I pressed the heels of my hands into my cheekbones as if I could somehow physically force the heat back out of my face. Or maybe covering my eyes makes me feel safer, somehow? I don’t know, that’s a question for the eventual therapist (who I feel bad for, by the way. Fucking hell, therapy is going to suck).

Darling brushed her hand up and down my sternum. “Hey, hey, breathe.”

I heaved a breath. My head spun.

“I want to hear about the menu, but if you’re going to go, you should decide now so we can leave on time.”

“I-I don’t know? I don’t know, I need to think.” I didn’t mean to hiss it between my teeth. My face got warmer. Now my chest felt warm, like I’d just opened an oven.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to appropriately appreciate the silence Darling offers me. Like in that moment, she alerted me to being pressed for time, but then she just gave me runway to think, to broil under my own skin for a bit and then come to the realization that the sky isn’t falling and that whatever pitchfork crowd I conjured in my anxiety-riddled mind didn’t exist. I didn’t even realize that’s what was going on with me at the time—why I involuted and imploded so ferociously when I perceived myself fucking up. A lifetime of violent retaliation for mistakes meant that even when the logical part of my mind knew that I wouldn’t be pierced with verbal javelins, or have to dodge something thrown at me, or assuage a tsunami of an emotional assault, I got wound up like they were coming. Those cavernous scars ran to the bone. And band-aids and skin glue wouldn’t fix the damage all the way down.

And Darling knew that, too.

“I, um. I’m-I’m not sure about going,” I managed. My breaths were short, bit like that time I had pneumonia as a kid, but the burning in my face had subsided.

“Do you want to go?”

How was I supposed to answer that? The apple glaze for the duck could use some brightness. Not acidity. Maybe something herbal? Lemon zest?

Wait, she asked me a question.

“Shit. Uh, I-I don’t know. I mean, it’d be nice, but these fucking menu changes.” I nudged the plates away from me. “Fuck my life…”

She hooked my chin and turned my gaze up to her. “Can I make a proposal, pretty boy?”

Something warm stirred in the pit of my stomach at hearing her call me that again. Fuck, she looked gorgeous. Had this little sparkle in her eyes because of the way the lights came through the blinds, put on lipstick for the first time in a while, and damn if it didn’t make her look like a million dollars. If it didn’t bring out the lively, rich color in her face, the love in her smile. Her necklace—did she say it was some kind of pearls? Vintage?—shimmering white, shifting iridescent tones, landed half a centimeter above the notch between her collarbones as if the best architect in the world composed this masterpiece of visual design.

“Please,” I whispered. Please, you have all of my attention. Every last thread of it. Please, please, for the love of whatever the fuck you believe in, call me pretty boy again.

“Take your notebook with you, hm?” She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll drive on the way over, so you can write down any ideas that come up. You might have some ideas at the bonfire itself—you know, the smell of the flames, the food there. And if you need it, you can always head to the car and write in the quiet.”

I took her hand and pressed my lips to her palm. Soft. A bit cooler in temperature. “I should get out, huh?”

“A change of scenery might be helpful for you right now. And I do want to go.”

I nodded, pressed one last kiss to her palm. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Mother of pearl.

That’s what her necklace was made of.

…..

The bonfire didn’t give me many ideas, but Syd did.

“Is there any other way to brighten the apple glaze?” she asked. “Like do you have to add something?”

Some of Darling’s friends had organized this little thing, some kind of Fall tradition for them. I was her plus one. Upsides: quieter than a big public thing; at night, so plenty of chances to Irish Goodbye into the shadows (is that offensive?); trees nearby, so I could just become a tree man (there’s a word for this. Darling told me, I’ll write it in if I remember. Cryptid. That’s the word) in the middle of it all, I guess. Downsides: more intimate setting, so higher expectation to socialize; at night, so who even knew what beasts and ghouls lurked in the shadows; and the trees were suffocatingly gigantic. I could get crushed by trying to look up at them. Also, several people stared at me like I was a rack of lamb, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. It did start getting a bit raucous about 30 minutes in, and I’d sent a (cryptic, now that I think about it) text to Sydney on the drive over, so she called me at the perfect time for me to duck out and get a break.

So, there I was, about 15 feet away from the bonfire, crouched against a tree to give my back a break, chill of the night air starting to creep under and around my jacket, watching Darling laugh at a good story, meeting her eyes to check in, watching her, meeting her eyes.

“What, like, take something away?”

Like The Devil told me to do?

“Yeah, or, like, maybe try a different type of apple or a different sort of… I don’t know.” She sighed. “We sure we wanna stick to an apple glaze?”

“It’s a solid idea. And it was Tina’s.” I was determined to make it work. She’d done too much for me to not try to make it work. “Finely diced green apples? Orange zest? I could try taking out the cinnamon.”

“What’s that gonna do?”

“It’ll take out the bass note. Cinnamon sits low in the palate, it’s-it’s a bass note. Means we get more tenor.”

“I’m sorry, are you using music terms?” Ugh, I could hear her smiling.

Warmth pricked at my cheeks. I hate that my voice came out so small when I said, “It’s how I think.”

Sydney either didn’t notice or decided not to aggravate the situation. “Okay. So, take out the cinnamon.”

Darling tilted her head at me.

“Yeah. I’ll give it a try. I, uh, I gotta go, Darling needs me.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Let me know how menu goes tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I headed back over to the bonfire. She offered me a s’more—very needed, fucking hell, I just needed some junk food sometimes to reset after sampling duck and bluefin and wagyu so much. Cheap chocolate, half-stale baking spices, half-charred fake vanilla. Caramelized sugar. Sharp snap of graham cracker, the bubbly warmth of melted marshmallow. She swept a bit of melted chocolate from my lip. Sucked it off her thumb.

Had no fucking idea how bad it wrecked me.

Not until we got back home, and I needed to get clothes off and yank her forward by her belt loop and impatiently shove her hands towards my hair. She giggled that saccharine melody, tangled her fingers through my curls, and then screeched in surprised delight when I just picked her up and marched straight for the bedroom.

“Carmy! Goodness!”

My kisses were sloppy because I couldn’t stop grinning. “Don’t wake the neighbors.”

Maybe it was the 4 sips of cheap whiskey I had at the bonfire.

She yanked off my t-shirt and coiled around me, her skin cool against mine, while I made short work of the rest of our clothes.

“God, you’re so warm all the time,” she mumbled, nuzzling my shoulder.

I found a few moments to slow back down. To just enjoy how her skin felt on mine, how her body fit perfectly right in my hands. Traced over the round of her hip, the curve of her thighs, palmed at her perfect tits.

“No, no,” she said, pulling back to smirk at me. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now.”

I kissed her. “You’re cute.”

“You’re hot.” She untangled herself from me and flopped onto the bed, stretching her arms like a satisfied cat. Faint light spilling in from the windows cast these deep, pitchlike shadows over her form, highlighting, in breathtaking contrast, every feature on her face, every facet of her architecture. Should I have thought about it any further, I might’ve absorbed the sight longer, embedded it in my mind, attempted to recapture it at the end of my pencil, but her giggle drew my attention.

“Now rail me already.”

I appreciate her bluntness so much.

She tensioned fistfuls of my hair when I trailed wet kisses up the inside of her thigh. Draped her other leg over my shoulder with practiced ease. This is a familiar dance, a well-versed pas de deux. One where I paint my hand up and down that thigh on my shoulder to soothe her when my lips finally meet her cunt, and she lets out that whimper that cinches the tight, burning, merciless heat of arousal deep in my navel. Where she breathlessly begs and whimpers and whines my name when she’s wracked by an orgasm on my tongue, more so when she’s ruined under me with her legs tight around my waist, tight enough to leave bruises along my hip bones, for me to feel sore when moving around the kitchen the next day—reminders of her, like the scratches I’d get, the lipstick stains I’d guard under my clothes and that I’d try to keep around as long as they’d last.

Maybe it was just love, by the way.

That’s an option, you know, Carmen. You just love her that much.

“I’m so close,” she mumbled. Her fingernails worried sore spots on my scalp, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop her from doing it. She was so tight around my fingers, so wet on my tongue, so hot—I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I don’t want to get used to it.

I withdrew my fingers, and she tugged particularly hard on my hair. “No, no, don’t stop,” she wailed.

“Ow, baby girl, too hard.”

She let go immediately, pet my face to apologize. “But I’m… oh…”

I’d crawled onto the bed. She pulled herself up towards the headboard, coiled her limbs around me and yanked me down into a starved kiss.

“Fuck me already, please, pretty boy.”

Who was I not to oblige?

[crazylittlejester]

I so want to draw the modern boys in funny situations, but I dont really know what they wear! Like, does War still like to wear scarves? Do they all have some reference to their lu conterparts?

War has a weird collection of scarves, but his favorite is one hand knitted by (I cannot remember her name for the life of me but Zelda)

Does Sky have a blanket (sailcloth) he sleeps with that Sun made him? His red earrings?

Maybe Twi with a those little fur pelts people put on their belts? Or a necklace that looks like the shadow crystal, but its really just a cool rock he found one day that he turned into a necklace? Does he still have his facial tattoos? What do his tattoos look like, and what peircings does he have??

okay first of all THATD BE SO COOL IF YOU DREW THEM OH MY GOD, second: THANK YOU FOR GRANTING ME PERMISSION TO YAP ABOUT THEIR CLOTHES AND WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE BECAUSE I HAVE HAD THEIR DESIGNS FLOATING IN MY BRAIN FOR SO MANY MONTHS (also my bad for spelling mistakes im dyslexic and also tired and my brain is turning off 💔💔💔 i might have forgotten a few details because my head hurts but i think i got the important things??)

Wars:

His summer and winter wardrobes have completely different personalities. In warmer weather he wears a lot of crop tops or just shirts that just reach the top of his pants so long as his arms are down, and also just tighter fitting tops, because he’s absolutely a “big pants, little shirt” kinda guy. He has a love hate relationship with jeans, he only puts up with them in the summer if there are just no other pants that will fit his vibe, and the second his frontal lobe fully develops /j and he locks in to life he will probably never touch another pair of jeans again. He’s young, he had a uniform he had to wear in grade school, he’s fucking around with fashion. But he ALWAYS eats.

His winter wardrobe is what his sense of style will fully transform into in a few years: nice pants, solid color t-shirts under a cardigan, or just a full on sweater. he has a collection of rather nice coats. He doesn’t wear a whole lot of scarves YET, he’s got a couple but the collection will grow as the years go on aldkkdd. His iconic blue scarf was split into two objects in this au: A blue scarf that Wild knit for him when he retired from skating and was having a rough time, and a very very soft blanket that Athena (his Zelda :)) gifted him for his birthday one year. Athena has definitely also made him a scarf, she does crafts too :) but his blue one was from Wild

His hair is bleached blond and straightened every morning, because it’s naturally very dark brown and curly. The modern au is just a modernized version of hyrule kingdom, but in our world he’d be brazilian/scottish, and he does have a slightly darker skin tone, he’s not super pale (he looks just like my regular version of Wars I write/have drawn a few times because he’s just a modernized version of my regular Wars :)). He also has glasses but wears contacts for the most part, because unfortunately for him he is blind as fuck aldkdkdd. He has his ears pierced, he usually just has simple silver studs in just so the holes don’t close (he’s paranoid about that), but he has other bigger earrings if he’s trying to match them with an outfit, and he usually wears eyeliner. He also has freckles, and a DECENT amount of em, but he covers those up with makeup. He rarely half commits to a look when he leaves the apartment, he either dresses up and fully does his makeup and hair and puts his contacts in, or he puts on a casual outfit and wears a hat because he hates his hair

Sky:

He dresses like an english teacher, which is the direction he’s planning on going in for his future job, but he’s already got the sweaters and general vibe at 21 years old and it’s really funny. On the days he’s too exhausted to really dress up, sweatpants and a hoodie will do. He always looks slightly disheveled, but in a frustratingly charming way that has Warriors screaming at a wall because his morning routine is very long and he’s rarely happy with how he looks and Sky can just roll out of bed, wash up, run a hand through his hair and somehow look perfect and this annoys him

He does have his red earrings!! And his sail cloth in his au IS a blanket that was a gift from Sun :) She made it from him the first year they dated after he had a health scare and was just not doing good for about a month. The blanket brought him a LOT of comfort then, and it still does now :)

His hair is dark brown and curly (not as curly as Wars’s is naturally but still curly and not wavy), and he’ll color it sometimes so it’ll end up brown but slightly red toned. He has a much darker skin tone than the other two, and his eyes are a dark gray

Twilight:

He owns like. 8 pairs of INCREDIBLY similar looking jeans and probably five too many flannels. If he EVER forgot it was halloween and he just ended up wearing his normal clothes he could probably say he chose to be dean or sam winchester and people would believe it. Warriors makes jokes about how Twi has like 7 different versions of the SAME outfit all the time, but he also borrows one very specific jacket of Twi’s because its big on him and will fit over other layers so he can’t complain too much or Twi won’t let him wear it anymore. He and Wars are opposites in the sense that if Wars is “big pants little shirt” Twi is “big shirt little pants”. Though at night that switches, because Twi sleeps in big ass flannel pants (you will never get him away from his emotional support flannel) and a tight fitting t shirt or tank top (he gets hot at night) and Wars is the guy in shorts and a GIGANTIC hoodie who walks around complaining he’s cold as if he does not own multiple pairs of sweatpants (which he primarily wears when he skates). (Sky owns ACTUAL pajamas)

He doesn’t really have anything that would be a pelt, the closest thing would be a very fluffy gray blanket his adoptive mom/aunt Malon bought him when he moved out. He DOES have a rock necklace!!! He likes rocks and Hyrule knows this, so it was a gift from Hyrule (who is the Rock Guy of the friend group aldkdkkd). He doesn’t have his facial tattoos, but he has a lot of others. All of his tattoos are on the left side of his body; left arm, left hip, left side of his chest right over his rib cage. Most of them are different animals he really likes all pieced together, others are small designs that represent people he loves. He also has a matching tattoo with Sky, which is a bird sitting on a goat’s head and a little cat is nearby (Twi’s is on the inside of his wrist, Sky’s is above his ankle, and because each animal is supposed to represent each of them they got Wars a bracelet with the little animals on it so he could be included too). He has three lobe piercings (on each side), and then just on his left he has a helix piercing, and a left eyebrow piercing. He also has a scar just before his hairline because when he was around nine he cracked his head open, and that is ALSO on his left side of his face. (he intentionally puts everything on the left, tho the scar he definitely had no control over because he was a child and fell)

His hair is brown and has a little bit of a wave to it, and his skin tone is darker than Wars’s but lighter than Sky’s. His eyes are brown, he’s got big ol’ sad brown eyes

ALSO!! Wolfie in this au is a very sweet dog who lives on the ranch that Twi rescued :)

[cultofdixon]

Bundle up next to me

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The period between the farm fire to the prison, no one talks about enough. Granted, why would you want to remember a time you felt extremely useless when helping the ones you love? • ANGST/SFW • TW: Illness / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

When you’re a little kid, watching the snow fall from your bedroom window was always an exciting thing. School closes…you get dressed in warm clothing…and you run outside to build a snowman or have snow ball fights with the neighborhood kids.

Well

This time didn’t have that feeling.

Waking up to find out that it snowed over night, lead the group in the house they were in—-to slightly panic. Rick needs to get his wife and son warm. Hershel needs to get his kids warm. They need to scavenge more for warmer clothing. Daryl needs to hunt whatever he can to provide for his family. There was a lot that needed to be done and Daryl didn’t wait to start hunting for whatever game could be lurking within the neighborhoods they hopped through.

Every new place they moved to, Daryl left for about an hour to go look for dinner. Even if it’s a bird. He’ll take anything. While Glenn, Rick, and Y/N took care of scavenging the houses for anything that will help them warm up. Leaving Maggie and Carol to start the fire and secure the places they lived in for everyone while they were out. Everyone had an assigned job during the winter.

But then there were down times…

“Y/N, hun, you don’t look too well” Hershel commented on her weak and pale complexion as she worked on a can of beans she found opening it for Carl.

The doc stating such caused everyone some alarm, if one of them were getting sick they’d need to be careful not to as well. But to also not lose said someone. Which was the thought that instantly coursed through Daryl’s mind.

“I’m fine, Hershel” Her voice was hoarse as she watched the concerned looks from Rick and Lori which made her get up from her spot to isolate herself. “Imma lay down”

“I’ll check on yea every hour. Just so you don’t get worse” Hershel frowns pulling his daughter Maggie aside along with Glenn and started discussing items that he will need that will most likely be in the medicine cabinets of homes surrounding them.

That when Daryl noticed the two get up after talking it out with the old man, he got up himself heading over to Y/N while removing his poncho.

“Oy, sit up” Daryl gave Y/N a look as she was confused but knew he wasn’t asking.

Y/N slowly sat up letting Daryl put his poncho on her and adjust it to cover all of her. He knew he would leave after check on her to find her a blanket or two that weren’t part of the surplus that Rick was hogging for his pregnant wife and son.

Daryl didn’t know much of how to take care of someone because no one correctly took care of him. But he knew by pressing the back of his hand to her forehead was to check for fever…and she was a bit warm. Least not the scary kind that yknow…turned people into walkers.

“Movin’? Again? Y/N is sick we should stay put a while”

“Daryl’s right, Rick. Not just that but we shouldn’t move too much for your pregnant wife’s sake as well”

“I found a house with a fire place. One not damaged by herds or human negligence. We can start a fire in that so it can remain ablaze while we slept at night.” Rick informs the two knowing their concerns. “We’ll be careful with moving the two. But I believe we can hold up most of winter in that house”

“If shit happens, it’s on you” Daryl states both of what he and Hershel were thinking as it wasn’t a good idea to move when the winter is getting even colder.

The Grimes took lead toward the house with the Greenes following behind them. Daryl currently carried Y/N in his arms as she was wrapped in all the blankets the archer had found her. While Glenn and Carol watched their backs.

Once everyone was in this new house, Rick and Glenn got to work on barricading the bottom floor’s doors and windows so nothing and no one could come in. Especially the snow. While Carol took care of sweeping the second floor before helping Daryl get Y/N situated in the one bedroom on the first floor when everyone else huddled with each other in the main room.

“Carol can yea—-“

“I’ve got the window” Carol went to barricade such while Daryl carefully placed Y/N down in the bed readjusting all the blankets she came with. “I’ll go get one of the can foods we brought from Glenn. See if she’ll eat”

“Okay…can yea get the thermometer thing from Hershel while you’re at it?” Daryl frowns watching Carol nod before she left to go such.

Daryl went through his pack to take out his canteen and opened it for Y/N, helping her take a sip of water. Even if she coughed a bit after such.

“Gotta get yea to eat somethin’ before I go out again”

“Be safe” She whispers snuggling herself into the blankets as Daryl brushes away the loose hair in her face.

After checking her temp, which hasn’t changed, and got her to eat a bit of the canned corn that Carol found, Daryl stepped out of the bedroom grabbing his crossbow and pack about to head out when Glenn shot up from his seat.

“Cool if I go with you?”

“Mhm” Daryl gestures toward the door indicating he’s leaving now.

The two set off to track what Daryl has been trying to find for a week. Hopefully a deer. The tracks were clear but it could’ve gone far that they can’t catch up. While Daryl kept his mind on the tracks, Glenn’s was elsewhere.

“Can’t believe she got sick man. That’s gonna be a difficult situation if it gets worse”

Silence

“If Maggie got sick. Boy I wouldn’t leave her side”

Annoyed silence

“If she gets worse, Rick might have us ditch her like we did Jim—-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Daryl snaps in Glenn’s face as the yell echoed through, startling a few birds but most importantly…the deer he’s been tracking. Glenn had zero time to register what happened as he quickly drew his rifle and instantly aimed at the deer shooting it.

The silence grew between them when Daryl went to check and make sure the deer was dead dead by finishing the job, before tossing it over his shoulders. He turned toward Glenn watching him anxiously hold the gun looking at Daryl with an apologetic look.

“I know you care about her, Daryl…I’m sorry for rambling about it. It’s just..”

“Scary. It’s fucking scary!” The archer snaps again, this time with a bit of regret. “I’m trustin’ Rick with everythin’ he’s doing. But if it comes to that? I’d kill him on the spot if he makes me leave the woman I care about”

“Woah. You’re scarier than I initially thought…but same. If yknow…it was about Maggie”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him when Glenn scrambled to say such. It was soon followed with a sigh as the two started their way back “home”.

“Hershel has been giving her cold medicine. Hopefully it works”

“It gets her to sleep. That’s all that matters for now…until we move again and she’s still sick”

“Well…if it makes you feel better, we haven’t had a walker incident” Glenn quickly ran over to a house knocking on the wood. “Knock on wood. We should be safe in the place we are in until the end of winter”

“Hopefully she gets better before then” Daryl states feeling Glenn pat his back in emotional response.

When the two returned “home”, Daryl prepared the meat for Hershel to get cooking on the makeshift stove they made in the fireplace. He got all the meat prepared so that he could clean himself up before taking the can of water off the brick near the fire so it was hot enough for the tea Carl found in the previous place before they left. He had heard from Hershel that tea could help so before they left, he searched the kitchen and found a few boxes before handing them to Daryl.

Daryl made his way back into the bedroom listening to the soft snores escaping the woman he cares so much for. He sets the can on the nightstand putting the tea bag in before bringing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He knew he closed the door but he still glanced over in case someone had followed him in…he didn’t want what he was about to say to be heard by anybody but her.

“You better get better” He’s not very good at this.

“Just. Stop being sick.” Daryl scoffs a bit fiddling with his hands. “I don’t like yea when yer sick…granted never really seen yea sick” he’s REALLY not good at this.

Then a sudden giggle escaped her. Making Daryl freak slightly as he thought she was out cold. Guess she’s also a light sleeper like him. More things they have in common.

“Yea awake?”

“Am now” She whispers keeping her voice low and not using it much because her throat hurt. “You made tea?”

“Mhm! Uh. Want help?” Daryl asks watching Y/N emerge slightly from the blanket pile as he picked up the van holding it up to her lips helping her take a sip. She gently rest her hands on his wrists letting him help her but touching him in case she needs him to abruptly stop.

“thank you” Y/N smiles a bit through the grogginess and a bit of the sick pain. “you were saying?” She wanted him to continue what he was saying as his face suddenly flushed.

“I uh—-“

“It’s ok. ‘M getting sleepy again..” Y/N gently rubs her eyes as Daryl sets the can down lifting the blankets for her to lay back down before he covered her. Noticing how she would get comfy in his poncho first before the blankets.

“Holler if you need anythin’” Daryl whispers to her watching her nod but before he even got up, she grabbed his shirt.

“Can you stay?”

And no more words were said as Daryl moved to bring himself to lay down on the other side of her once he placed his crossbow on the other side of the bed. In case of emergencies.

At first the man laid on his back staring at the ceiling while Y/N faced away from him sound asleep.

Next Daryl closed his eyes as Y/N moved to lay on her back.

Then Y/N curled up into his side hiding her face toward the bed while Daryl leaned his head toward her.

Finally, Daryl subconsciously wrapped himself around Y/N as she had moved one of the blankets to cover him while she snuggled close to him. Enjoying every ounce of warmth the man emitted.

The click of a Polaroid camera was heard in the morning but it wasn’t loud enough to stir Y/N. But enough to get Daryl to glare at Maggie, Glenn, and Beth that were documenting the soft moment. Beth forced the camera into Glenn’s hands blaming it on him as she left quickly. Maggie carefully set the photo on the nightstand before quietly and quickly getting out of there with Glenn as he gently closes the door behind him. Daryl would later figure out that they only came in to check on him and Beth had found a Polaroid camera in the other room but wanted to join the two on checking on them.

Daryl sighs toward the three before looking down at Y/N who was still fast asleep through that all. He gently presses the back of his hand against her forehead no longer feeling the overwhelming burn that indicates a fever. Still a bit warm but not too alarming. He sighed once again feeling better that she was starting to get better.

The archer was about to get up, when he was tugged back down by the woman he loves. He situated himself to get comfortable again…letting her get situated in his embrace. He didn’t care if she was sick. He wasn’t going to not enjoy this moment.

“Yknow I care about yea deeply right?”

“Mhm…I care about you too” Y/N smiles against his chest knowing he wanted to also say the other thing, so she emphasized her words bringing her as close as humanely possible.

Y/N was still sick a few more days but the symptoms lessen as they went by. She didn’t even have to isolate at one point. When she was well enough to be around others, they had given the room to Lori so she would be more comfortable in a bed instead of a couch.

“Here” Daryl handed her another can of tea since the glasses were broken as he situated himself right beside Y/N. Letting her lean against him as the smallest touch made the butterflies flutter in his stomach. Making him smile out in the open toward her as she occasionally drank her tea.

“Look at what I found” Y/N whispers to Daryl showing the Polaroid taken a few days back as it made him blush looking at it. “I think it’s a keeper”

“Don’t need a picture when I’ve got yea right here” Daryl whispers to Y/N making her own blush appear as she tried to hide it behind the picture when looking up at him.

“True…but imma keep it anyway” Y/N smiles setting the can down and taking the journal out from her bag to put it in for safe keeping. Before grabbing a blanket that Daryl instantly took to cover her shoulders but she adjusted so that one half is covering him as well.

“Yer the one still recoverin’”

“Yeah but I’ve got my personal heater” She winks at the archer making that smile of his break through.

“Fine…bundle up closer then” Daryl whispers as Y/N did exactly that enjoying all it.

All of the warmth

[deadboyfriendd]

I Hope This Letter Finds You Well.

Summary: It is already so hot that it burns. The sheriff had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn't decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heatstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this.

A culmination of letters shared between family and new friends turns into a stand-off at the tarmac of Tucson, Arizona.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sheriff/Wyatt Earp!Steve Harrington x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, death of a spouse, period-appropriate death, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse, ride a cowboy, feminine rage embodied (I couldn't give her a gun this time because, if I did, everyone would be dead), eventual discussion of The Civil War and the politics that came from it.

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: This is it. Bisbee is here and it feels like I'm breathing life back into my cowboys through my sheriff. This is so, so special to me and @dr-aculaaa, and I cannot wait to tell you all their stories.

Find the series masterlist here!

“When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.” Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

Nellie, 

I believe that the face of death is a woman, and that she is beautiful. 

I believe that she may have loved my betrothed, at least as long as there was breath in his lungs and a thrum in his chest. I believe that William looked into her dark eyes and followed her into that unknown place, and I know, there, he might finally find something to still his mind. 

I believe that she kissed him good and hard, Nellie, in a way that I could not have done– that she danced her spindly dance clear across the desert, through the plains of the midlands, and splashed in the bayou of Louisiana until she found him. 

I believe that death is a friend to our family, that her sinewy arms loom over our men in an embrace that we can not provide, and I believe that she is warm. Much warmer than you or I have been created to be. I believe she walks alongside us, whispers into the ear of our husbands, and laughs as they dance their troublesome dances. 

I believe she is kind, much kinder than us, for why else would our men leave the safety of us for her? I cannot fathom it, Nellie. 

I no longer believe that death is cold and harsh, for I know that no man could be as cruel as she. 

We were always cut from the same cloth, in life, and now in death. 

Signed, your cousin. 

+

He could have said that he never wanted any trouble, and he could have said he didn’t go around picking fights, yet both seemed to find him with speed and vigor. He sought them out, begged for the metallic heat to seep from behind his teeth and drip down his lips like ambrosia. The boy could not read nor write, yet also harbored a taste for mindless violence– his gangly teenage frame a harbinger of death. 

The monsoon was fast approaching, dark clouds filling the sky in an apocalyptic haze, though the Lord knew this land needed it. The rain came down in heavy sheets, droplets weighing deep against the flesh and warm in strides. The powder dust beneath it stirred and settled in waves, and he prayed for no wind, for the wall of dust that would overtake them in the future just might suffocate him. He cried out in thirst, having mistaken this anguish for freedom. All he could do was turn his mouth towards the sky and hope it would wash away the rawness in his throat.

This heaviness did not go away with time nor age. The boy-now-man sifted through the powder silt of the remnants of his life the same way he sifted through these crises as a child, though with more sure steps and a heavier hand for subtlety. He no longer craved ambrose violence gilded in the candied sheen of shed blood, though it did not stop searching for him. 

He was out with lanterns, in search of himself. 

There used to be nothing here but a broad expanse of mirage, the heat rising from the sand and warping the distance into a false lake like a sick joke. He remembered the settlement. The miners came first, then the saloons, and dance halls. The cattle drovers and thieves would follow suit to reap their fortunes, but the plume of the mines came first. 

Still there is hope, an old miner had said to him, for I know of two Bibles in town. 

Though men of God and men of war both have strange affinities, it would seem. 

War, much like God, was here long before man. It crouched its ugly pose and waited for his arrival. The ultimate trade awaits the ultimate practitioner. 

Today, the oak planks, rotted from years in the sun, groan in the same anguish beneath his boots and he ignores it as much as the God he prayed to ignored his own cries. The bright orange of globe mallow presses its way between the planks, soft resilience even in this heat. When he reaches down to touch it, it crumbles between hardened finger pads. 

This township felt like a tunnel, a vignette blurring the Gaussian edges of its structures that settled like graves. His boots sunk a lowly sulk through the banks of the roads where wagon wheels had pushed them from their packing. He still felt the nothingness here, vast openness in which he awaited a tomahawk crowning, sinking into the same sand on his knees, candy-coated in that gilded red gloss. 

Through the nothingness there was a stirring, his eyes fixated on the microburst brewing along the mountain's edge in the distance. 

Thunder fades to wheels along tracks.

You’d watched the land turn from green to brown and back again. You’d watch the sun wick the water from the soil and feel it warm your skin. There’s a certain disdain that fills your chest like liquid when you picture Nellie on this trail. There was no train west to take. There was no railway. 

Did Nellie still look like her mother? Had her mouth begun to crease with a perpetual smile? Was her hair still long and did she still let it fall in ringlets down her back? Surely, she had not sounded the same in her letters, though, this sullen stranger had still signed the letters with the same swooping motions. 

As the trees became sparse and turned into gangly, reaching boojums, you realized just how far from home you had been. You had never left the great state of Louisiana but, had run those riverbeds and marshes ragged with bare feet, had run heels hard against the hollow tomb of that old paddle boat. Could you be as wild as the West? Would it love you in the same way the marshes had? Wrap you in its mossy embrace and let you sink beneath stagnant water in wait?

But for what? 

The sharecropping had been a logical by-product of everything your father had fought for in the war, rock salt and nails and hand over first for years under the lead of General Benjamin F. Butler, though no one could foresee the way the plantation had hemorrhaged money after he took on nearly ten hired men, or the way the land had would have dwindled to nothing had you not taken that ghastly, ugly burden against your back, one heavy enough to spur you west. One heavy enough that even the sting of the sunburn did nothing to quell the ache that you still felt in your chest against it. 

You watched the life drain from this land, music and the lush green of the coming summer turning to sweltering, daguerreotype daydreams. You pressed your palm against the glass and sighed. 

It was already warm enough to burn. 

When you pressed your face against the glass, you could feel the rumble of the hardened earth beneath the sodden tracks. The dried parchment of letters scraped against themselves where they pooled in the makeshift reservoir of your dresses ruched into your lap– just high enough so that your ankles could feel any movement within the waning stagnation of air in the train car. 

You tore the one on top open with your thumb– the last one to remain unopened. Its straight edge was too sharp and angled perfectly as you pulled at it, the edge of your thumb already pooling cherry beads of blood where it rippled. 

“Shit.” you cursed.

Gilded eyes peered towards you, slicing through the silence of this welling heat like ice. Had it been dark, they would have glowed. Ladies in Parisian hats tailing the woeful gazes of their well-tailored merchant husbands turning towards the spectacle that was you. Young. Unmarried. Unaccompanied and profane in your lack of grace aboard the train to the lawless lands. Maybe, by God’s hand, you had been cut from the same cloth as this lawless place– the rumble of the tracks a song to the listlessness that stirred in your chest like silt in distant waters. 

You dismissed the judgment, the venom of it all sliding off of you like that same water against a duck’s back, turning your attention back towards the product of your own disdain: Nellie’s letter, signed, sealed, and delivered to your last known location. 

Cousin, 

Your father has sent word about your arrival in Tucson, and I will meet you at the train depot in due time. I do hope that, in time, the heat of this land may dry your tears in the same way it has mine. 

I fear that you may not recognize me upon your arrival to Tucson, my face has grown harder and my body less soft. You will become this way, too. I am tough. I am afraid this place has weathered me like old leather. 

I have asked the sheriff to accompany me to the train depot in Tucson, and he has happily obliged. I didn’t think you would mind much, either. 

The sheriff is a nice man, as I am sure you have come to find, however, this land has hardened him in the same way it has hardened Edward and I. In the same way, it took Wilhelm as payment for some grander, more horrendous scheme.  I do not ask you to excuse his shortcomings– or mine– but I do ask that you try to understand us. 

Though it is better now than it has ever been, this place is still not like Louisiana. This land is lawless. This land is tough. This land does not make promises or send prayers. It exists as it is, rough and unbinding– blistering for all it is worth. 

We are the law, here. 

If we lose our morality, we lose everything. 

I will see you soon. I love you. 

Nellie. 

It was an unspoken truth that there was something broken much deeper within them that they had shared some form of solidarity within. Somehow, in some way, Nellie and Steve had shared something they never wanted you to see, but, even now, something was different about her in more recent letters that you couldn’t quite differentiate. 

Perhaps it was the way she told you she loved you. She hadn’t written those three words since writing of Wilhelm’s death. Maybe she said it then in search of the love she had lost, had looked for shreds of it to mend herself back together. Maybe Edward had done that for her, and maybe now she had some left to give. You hoped that much for her.

Edward was an entity unknown to you– a phantom in his own respects. He reaped his own form of morosity in the way he loved Nellie. He did so in a way that was devouring, in a way that encompassed her in every respect. You had been well past the persuasion of beautiful faces, for a face much like his was the face that launched a thousand ships. Another puppet wielded by The Devil, he was. That holy shape becomes a devil, best. 

It was an unholy thing, to resurrect the dead. And, you supposed, Edward had done just that. Nellie’s letters came to an abrupt halt after the announcement of the Death of Wilhelm. Your family, the only remaining kinship to her lineage, had not received a letter from her in over a year. 

You’d thought of all of the ways she could have died, but the most plausible cause was a broken heart. Even now, as rolling hills turned to planes and back again, as you watched the horrors that this land reaped, you could not see any of them taking your cousin. No, she was a force to be reckoned with. Not even this land could break her will. No, if she were to die here, now, it would have been by her hand. 

And then, by some unforsaken force beyond even your father’s control, Nellie breathed once more. Her letters were flowery, her writing curling into crashing waves of stories told. You watched as this solemn stranger breathed life back into Nellie, something as cruel and unusual as beauty in this place unseen and unheard of for years, beauty unseen to Nellie since Wilhem was killed. 

You knew of only unholy things that fed upon the dead– that breathed an ugly, hot breath back into their lungs and pulled them from the sodden earth in which they lay. Edward was not entirely truthful, that much you could tell. 

You supposed you and Edward had shared that sentiment, in some way. 

+

The Whispering Sands was still not the ritzy bar. That was still located in the lobby of The Grand Hotel, just footsteps from where The Sheriff stood now, planks still singing their groaning songs of protest beneath his legs, still stiff with sleep or nerves or years of failed prayer. 

His footfall fell heavy against the hollow floors, the weight of him reverberating against the early hum of the bar. The dealer was still as straight as a Christmastime wreath, though, now, he knew that this one could at least shoot in the right direction. You no longer needed to carry when you walked through, your spare now confined to below the counter out of sheer caution and the guiding hands of ghosts alone. The doors didn’t hang crooked anymore, the dealer making fast work of fixing all of the things Nellie had pushed to the back burner in relentless disembowelment of her own self-preservation that she so readily gave to him in the form of softened twine and spoken promises tightened around ring fingers. 

The Sheriff would not be so easy. His self-preservation ran deeper than that. 

Nellie knew it, knew that his roots were wrapped around something vital within him, something deeper than hers– something from a time before her, before this town, and before the West was wild.  

The echo of him reverberated off of the walls of the bar, bounced off of the piano, and rattled the windows. It demanded her attention long before the brass bell of the front door rang and the heavy oak clattered against the frame. 

8:50. Like clockwork. 

In the times before, just after Wilhelm, he would stop in and buy a cigar, though, to this day, she had never seen him smoke. She never inquired it, and he never inquired her. 

There was a solidarity in their grief, and it never quite, even now that she felt happy more times than not. She had a sneaking suspicion he was there for something other than a cigar every morning, but she pulled one from the humidor and took his money anyway. There had been a time where she insisted it was on the house. It wasn’t worth the fight, now. 

He looked different today. Still sullen is his strange, tortured way, but there was almost something beautiful about it, about the way he ruminated in this state of torture. Even in the way his stagnation had turned into just that with time, something seemed to still sit there in wait, leaden in the pit of his chest. 

He looked like the face of a handbill like this, enveloped in all black. Square-toed boots with black trousers that made him look ganglier than he was, made him loom over Nellie more than he already did. His black frock coat dusted his calves at a three-quarter length, and a black bolo tie covered as much of the stark white high-collar as possible. On the hat rack by the door sat his usual wide-brimmed Stetson, and, from just behind the plain silver of his belt buckle, the Colt Burtline Special shone in the light. 

He looked fit for a funeral.

He walked like he beckoned the apocalypse in clouds of rolling thunder behind him. When his heels pressed into the softened sand, the earth quaked beneath it. The weight of him made the stagecoach groan on its hinges– leaden and heavy with the weight of something bigger than settled silt within his chest, kicked up like the sand behind horse hooves and stagecoach wheels. 

Parchment sat like lead in his lap, curdling there and souring something that had sat too long. Cracking fingers curled around your words like poison, sweetened with sasparilla whiskey, golden ambergris letters seeping into him and warming his throat like bile and molten gold. He opened the first one with a nimbleness unlike one he had ever known, and read it once more:

25 April, 1894

To the Sheriff that this letter finds, 

I am afraid your letter has found me in a state of disrepair. I have never been one for niceties and I am afraid I do not have it in me to start now. 

My betrothed had never known peace in life, and I am afraid that he may not ever know it in death, wherever that plane Hell may be. 

Maybe it is I that has died, and maybe it is I that walks across this Hell. Maybe it is my own doing that brought me to this. Maybe I am the creature of my own undoing. I am not a nice girl, Steve. Not the nice girl you think I might be. 

We were raised like leather, stretched and scraped to be tough in the way that our mothers were, unbending and unbreaking as they had been. They were not forgiving, nor were they kind. Nellie was once that way, too. Though, I fear that your desert sun has softened her. That it changed something deeper within her in a way that she may be someone I no longer recognize. 

I plan to arrive in Tucson by train on the first of October. Maybe this sun will soften me in the same way it has softened my cousin. Maybe I don’t want it to. 

Though I hope for my tomorrow to be kind, I have an inkling that it never will be, for this life had never had a kindness to offer. 

I’ll be the one in white. 

I will see you then, Sheriff. 

He pictures the way you will step off the train, white linens spilling over the threshold of it by some sickened grace of the hand of an unkind God. He both relished in it and could not bear the thought. He thought of linens hiked over knees and rucked up under the fabric of itself, a  depiction of the implosion of his world. 

He had already lived this, soft hair against soft legs and white linens shed in a dustbowl around shared space and soft, breathlessness passed between lips. He had felt this kind of softness before– had known this tender touch of a woman outside of the mother he never had. 

It was the first time he had ever been touched gently. 

Even Nellie’s hand seemed gruff as it gripped his shoulders in a grounding movement, his eyes slowing with the movement of reading and dissipating into blankness an indicator that he had gone somewhere that even she would never be allowed to see. It was a look she had known all too well.

“I’m afraid she might not like me much.” He whispered, low enough for Eddie to not be able to hear– or, at least, low enough so he could pretend not to. She knew what he meant by this, another feeling chased after her own reanimated heart. 

Nevertheless, she avoided the philosophical nature of it all, answering him with the only thought she had: “I’m afraid she might not like anyone much, Steve.” She starts, and the questioning gaze he gives her urges her to continue. 

“It wasn’t easy for her, either, Steve.” She starts with another sigh, now more like the weight was being pressed out of her lungs from the weight that she felt, “Most of the time, it was out right hard.” 

“We’ve all had it hard, Nellie. Nothing about this life has been particularly easy.” Steve says back. He didn’t mean it to be as harsh as it was. She knew that, though it didn’t stop that initial sting of his dismissiveness.  

“William wasn’t a nice man, no matter how much she loved him.” She tells him, louder this time and too fast. Eddie couldn’t help the the way his eyes are drawn to her from where they are fixed to the periscope of landscape before them, “Forgive her if she isn’t welcoming.” 

+ 

To the Lady that may find this letter, I hope it finds her well

Tucson still radiates heat at this time of year, the mirage at the end of town makes the expanse of land between here and the mountains feel both endless and right in front of you at the same time. It warps like the heat is melting space and time itself. Nevertheless, the first blooms of orange mallow have begun to open in a patch where the stagecoach stopped. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he was inclined to plock them from the ground and brush the dirt from their roots. 

It seems the desert knew you would board the train in New Orleans and set west for us, and wanted to welcome you with its kindest hello. The desert is not kind, but she would make an exception for someone like you, I would suppose. 

The wheels screech along the wrought iron of the track as they slow to a halt– and he swears, just for a single, fleeting moment, his heart stops with them. There is a stream of people that step down. Ladies with large hats and square-shouldered men in frock coats not unlike his. He wonders if you will know your face before Nellie does– wonders if he knows who you are just from the curls of your letters. 

And then, you were there. 

You were unremarkable in every way possible, though, at a closer glance, you had chosen to forego a bustle and corset. Instead, the pliant lines of your body undefined against a white buttoned shirt and a long dark skirt. A plain, flat-brimmed stetson sat against the crown of your head, just enough to obscure your face from his view. 

Your cousin is very kind. I like to think that you are kind like her, though, I also hope that you are tough in the same way that she is.

He steps forward, his hands sticky with sweat or the sap of the stems of the orange mallow crushed beneath a pressing grip, he isn’t sure. As he steps on to the tarmac, he remembers his manners– remembers that he isn’t an animal and you are not inherently dangerous, and pulls off his hat, pressing it to his chest as he holds an arm out stiffly towards you without any further introduction. 

You see the star against his chest, pressed silver pinned there like a placard on the spectacle of the man before you, and know that this is him– that this is the entity whom has spilled his heart to you over parchment and ink and blood, “Well, now, those are awfully pretty, sheriff.” You say to him, looking down at the crushed orange matter in his hands. They have already begun to wilt. 

“I have an affinity for pretty things.” 

He flirts shamelessly with you, and something deep within you stirrs. It is not the schoolgirl crush you harbored with William. It isn’t even akin to love, but something worse and something ugly. His letters and flowery words and then his backtracking and condolences meddle into one ugly mass of insult. No, this thing that rose in you was not love, nor was it even a cousin. It was hate. Blinding, furious hate.

“And I have an affinity for men who can make up their minds.” You nod towards him, reaching towards the tarmac for the cracking handle of your green steamer trunk, especially now that the gangly, lean man you presume is Edward reaches for it. 

There is a moment in time where everyone freezes. Both Nellie and her husband, as well as the sheriff before you. They are walking a thin line, one akin to the silver thread between life and death. The tension is palpable, and Nellie shatters the thing you cling to for resolve like glass:

“Now you’re being outright childish–”

She sucks in a breath when you snap, the wild dogs that live within your chest writhing and pulling against chains as you release whatever hurt and pain you held in your heart towards her. Everything you had wanted to say, everything you wanted to scream back at her once she had resurrected. You weilded them now as weapons against her. 

“You sure are one to talk about childish, Nellie. You ran in the other direction when things got hard, and then you up and died on us.” 

“I’m not dead. I was never dead.”

“Well, I have a hard time believing that.”

The Sheriff and the tall man take a step back behind Nellie, shrink away from your thunderous roar as if you might actually bite. The leather of your handle and the steamer dropping from your hand with had resonant patriarchal basso against the tarmac. Time has frozen in place, but people continue to swirl around you in a flurry of haste and posthaste annoyance. Silver tears well against the pink line of her eyes, and you are acutely aware that yours are a mirror image.

Steve had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn’t decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heartstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this– his wife was only ever tender. 

He can see the rage drip from your mouth like hot, molten tar, can see the tears well in your eyes like casted silver against the mold of your face– the way a single one cools and leaves a residual streak against the ashen skin of your cheek. You want to love Nellie, in the same way she wanted to love Edward, and in the way he loved his wife. He can see it, that burning want so bad that it becomes hatred. That kind of love whose flame burns blue. 

He knows Nellie loves you, too, but also knows how dangerous it is to speak it aloud– lest that vile maiden Death may hear it. 

Your eyes stare holes into him, burn against his abdomen from where you fix them. He had heard of women becoming alight with lust born from rage before, but had not though of you to be insane enough to eye him in a familiar way right here on the tarmac. That blue flame affixed to him and warming him from the inside, as well. 

“That’s an awfully ugly belt buckle, sheriff.” You speak, finally, breaking the silence and restoring some semblance of order to this congregation. 

This place is not forgiving, nor is it kind. I hope that your heart is not faint, and I hope that this place is kinder to you than it has been to us. 

With warmest regards, 

Steven Harrington

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Aki and Kirijo arrive at the hospital so soon after class would have ended that he’d almost think they had left school early– if he didn’t know that Kirijo would never allow it.

They brought along a set of his clothes and his hat– he’s happy to find out that it hadn’t gotten ruined. He’s kind of surprised at how much of a relief it is to wear normal clothes instead of a hospital gown. They’re warmer, for one thing, which is always great; but it also helps to hammer home that he really does get to leave.

Shinjiro gets dressed while Kirijo takes care of the last of the discharge paperwork, and Aki fills him in on the details of what happened last night, particularly with Strega. It’s a rough deal and a damn waste of two lives, but Shinjiro also can’t say he’s especially torn up about it, or that he’s very surprised. 

And then he’s walking through the glass entryway doors out into the sharp autumn chill. 

Kirijo has a car waiting for them, because of course she does. Aki helps him fold himself into the seat without giving him a choice about whether he wants the help or not. Kirijo talks to the driver for a few seconds and then joins them in the back.

And they’re on their way. It isn’t until the hospital is fully out of sight that it finally feels completely real. He’s out.

Aki laughs. They’re probably thinking the same thing. Shinjiro still can’t believe how stupid huge that limo was. 

They ride in silence for another few minutes before Shinjiro decides to speak up again.

He gestures to his head, then Aki’s and Kirijo’s in turn.

They lapse into silence after that. Shinjiro glances over to Aki just as Aki looks back at him, and he can tell immediately they’re both thinking the same thing again. There’s no reason to believe that the Kirijo Group was wrong about what would end the Dark Hour. They don’t need to be worried.

But it doesn’t seem like either of them can help it.

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 3

Author's note: A little clarification about the previous chapter since someone commented it on Wattpad. What happened between Val and Pedri when he visited her was all consensual. In all my stories I always try to make it clear, but sometimes I may not manage to write down what I have in my head or it gets lost in translation. Also, for future chapters. Teasing each other is like their love language, so when they do it, they aren't actually being mean. It's just their way of saying I love you 😁 Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you to everyone who has been reading so far! 💜

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Masterlist

"That room over there is my brother's, and those are guest rooms for when my parents or my friends come to stay. But the best room is this one" Pedri smiles. "Not because it is mine, the woman who showed me the house said so."

"Sure" I chuckle.

"She did. Are you ready?"

"Ready."

"Welcome to my room, my lady" he says before opening the door. "I know it is a bit messy, but I didn't want it to make it look perfect because that isn't me, you know? And this weekend I want you to get to know me, not the football star."

"Since when are you a football star?" I ask with a teasing smile.

"Ha ha ha. You are so funny, Val" he says, rolling his eyes. 

"I know" I smile. "But I like it. I actually like the whole house. I've seen others this big and modern and they look so cold and empty with just a sofa and a tv in a corner and an untouched kitchen… But yours looks like a place where there are people living. And it's messy, yes. But it is an organized mess."

"I wouldn't have described it better" he laughs. "Do you want to check the view? That's the reason why this room is the best one."

"Please."

"Then after you, my lady" Pedri says, opening the balcony's door.

"Thank you" I giggle. My God, why did I giggle? He just opened a door for me! "Oh, wow" I gasp as I walk outside.

"It is the best, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful" I say as I lean on the railing and look around in awe, the sun setting in front of me. 

"It has never looked as beautiful as it does right now, tho."

"Pedri!" I laugh, turning around to look at him.

"It is what it is" he shrugs. He's leaning against the balcony's door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a soft smile on his lips. He had never looked so… So...Ok , I'm gonna say it. So boyfriend. 

"It was cheesy" I giggle again, feeling my cheeks get warmer and warmer and my stomach do funny things while he just looks at me, making me feel as if I'm 15 again and my crush has finally acknowledged me. 

Dear lord, he is turning me into a teenager. 

"It was the truth" he says before walking towards me, my heart skipping a beat when I feel one of his hands cupping my face, the other on my low back, pulling me closer towards him before kissing me.

But it isn't a kiss like the ones we've shared before. It is soft, gentle, slow. And it is making me melt under his touch, making my body relax and forget about anything else. It's just him and I, his lips on mine, his hands on my body, the feeling of his heart beating against my chest. 

And it keeps being like that as he walks me back into the room, when he lays me down on the bed, when he takes off my clothes and leaves kisses all over my body, when I feel him inside me. There is no rush, no need to make it to the end like happened yesterday. It's just us moving at the same rhythm, enjoying every second, every touch, every kiss. And it's perfect.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Val, we are gonna be late. What are you doing?" 

"I can't find my phone. A moment ago I was texting Silvia and now it's gone."

"If it was under the bed don't you think you would have heard it fall?" Pedri chuckles.

"Maybe? I don't know. Can you call me to see if it's here somewhere?" I say, getting up.

"Val…"

"Wait, no. Don't call me, I have it on vibration. Though that makes noise, so if we are quiet…"

"Val…"

"Or maybe it is in the bathroom? I went there to check if I was leaving something behind and…"

"Valeria!"

"I know you don't want to be late, but there is no need to yell, Pedro."

"Have you checked your pockets?" 

"My pockets?"

"On your jeans. Have you checked them?"

"There is nothing there."

"Back pockets" he sighs.

"What… fuck" I say when I feel my phone on one of them. 

"It happens to the best of us" he laughs. "Now can we please go?"

"Yes, of course. We don't want Xavi to get mad at you, do we? He may not choose you for the starting eleven and… Do you want to cuddle?"

"What?" Pedri laughs again.

"Come, let's cuddle for a bit" I say, sitting on the bed and extending my arms towards him.

"Val, that's cheating."

"I don't know what you are talking about" I shrug.

"Of course not" he smirks. "Let's go."

"Wait, no… Pedri!" I complain when he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

"You wanted to cuddle, right? This is a new way of doing it" he says, slapping my butt while we leave the room.

"You better not fall down the stairs."

"I wouldn't dare" he replies, this time pinching me, laughing when I try to hit him and miss. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You know where to meet after the game, right?"

"I do, Pedri" I say while checking that I have everything I may need in my purse.

"If you get lost or something…"

"I'll call you, don't worry."

"You better. And are you sure you don't want me to drive you a bit closer to the stadium?"

"I'm sure. I don't want someone recognizing you, taking a photo of us together, and end up all over the internet."

"Neither do I, to be honest" he sighs. "Anyway, before you leave… Can I get a good luck kiss?" he pouts.

"What about one that says I hope you have a good game but that your team loses?" I smile.

"I don't like how that sounds."

"Leave it or take it" I shrug.

"Ok, fine" he sighs. "You merengones are so mean."

"Oh, shut up" I say, grabbing him by his t-shirt and pulling him towards me before kissing him. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I'm telling you that's her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Let's go say hello."

"Ok. But try not to say anything stupid or he'll get mad."

"I won't, Gavi. Relax. Hello!" 

"Hi" I say to the two guys walking towards me.

"You are Pedri's friend, right? Valeria."

"Yep."

"I'm Ferran, and this is Gavi. Though you probably already know."

"I recognized Gavi, but you…"

"Bro" Gavi laughs.

"She's messing with you" Pedri says behind them.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Yesterday I made you check everyone's name and photo so you would know who is who during the game."

"It didn't work" I shrug. 

"Then do you know who I am or not?" Ferran asks.

"I do, I was just teasing you" I smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to finally meet you too!"

"Finally?"

"Our boy here hasn't stopped talking about you since the day he met you" Ferran says, putting his arm around Pedri's shoulders. "I don't blame him, tho."

"He's completely smitten" Gavi chuckles.

"Shut up" Pedri says, getting free of Ferran's grip and moving to stand next to me, his cheeks a bright shade of pink. He's blushing. Cute. Wait, what?

"Oh, don't get mad, Pepi."

"Pepi? What kind of name is that?" I laugh.

"That's how his fans call him" Ferran smiles.

"Why would they call you that? Pedri didn't sound stupid enough?"

"Oh my God" Gavi gasps.

"You weren't joking when you said she's savage" Ferran laughs.

"Yeah, well, whatever. We should get going, Val. You have an early morning tomorrow" Pedri says, trying to end the conversation.

"I actually do, yes" I say, noticing how uncomfortable he is feeling.

"We have to meet another day, then. Maybe for lunch or dinner?" Ferran says.

"Yes, sure" I smile. "It was nice meeting you, guys."

"You too, Val" Ferran says, taking my hand and kissing it, making Pedri roll his eyes before getting inside the car. 

"Bye."

"Bye" he and Gavi say at the same time.

"They are nice" I say once I am inside the car.

"And annoying" Pedri mutters. 

"Congratulations on that goal, by the way" I say, trying to lighten up the mood. 

"Thank you" he replies, finally looking at me. "Did you see that I dedicated it to you?"

"You did?"

"Yep" he smiles. Finally. 

"I saw that you did like a peace sign or something."

"It wasn't a peace sign, Val! It was a V! I sent you a kiss and then did a V!"

"Oh…" I say, suddenly feeling my cheeks get warm, not sure if of embarrassment or because of how cute he was by dedicating me his goal. 

"I'm sure there are photos already, let me check."

"Won't they close the stadium with us inside or something? I can't sleep at the Camp Nou, I'm already feeling all itchy from the time I've been here."

"Stop complaining" Pedri laughs, his eyes fixed on his phone. "Here. Look. The kiss" he says, showing me a photo. "And the V. My first goal of the season is for you" he smiles.

"Thank you" I reply, blushing again. And this time it definitely is because of how cute he is. Because he is cute. Admit it, Valeria. "No one had ever dedicated me a goal before."

"Well, this will be the first of many."

"Just promise me one of those future goals won't be against Real Madrid."

"I'll try" he laughs. "And I think I'm gonna post these photos on Instagram. What do you think?"

"You are smiling, I like them."

"Do you like my smile?" he asks, arching one of those perfect eyebrows of his.

"It's ok" I shrug, my face now burning. Thank God he isn't able to notice because of how dark the parking is.

"Just ok, sure" Pedri chuckles while typing on his phone.

"Do you run it yourself? Your Instagram account, I mean."

"I do. I've been offered to have someone do it for me, but I like doing it myself."

"Because that way you can manage better your dms with the teenagers?" I tease him.

"Exactly that, yes" he laughs. "Though I don't do it anymore."

"Do what?"

"Dm girls. Or reply to their dms."

"Why?"

"Because now I'm only interested in sliding into the dms of a certain girl" he says with a cheeky smile.

"Poor thing" I reply, looking away and acting as if I didn't know who he is talking about.

"Yes, poor thing. And posted. Will you give it a like?"

"Are you mad? What if someone sees it and they don't allow me to set foot in the Bernabéu ever again?" 

"They'll understand" he laughs, starting the car.

"They won't. I'm literally sleeping with the enemy, Pedri. Just that could ban me forever."

"You are such a drama queen, Val" he laughs again. "But does that mean there is no chance I will be seeing you in my notifications?" 

"Well… You actually look really cute in those photos. They are like worth it." Cute. Cute, cute, cute. The word of the night.

"I'll take that as a yes, then" he smiles. 

"But I didn't say yes. Or maybe."

"You kind of did" Pedri smirks.

"I just… whatever" I say, looking out the window so he can't see the stupid smile on my face. 

And yes, I ended up giving him that like. Let's just hope Florentino doesn't see it.

[ali-kitkat]

i did it y'all!! here's that little one shot i promised. it's also cross posted on ao3 here

And If I Only Could I'd Make A Deal With God

Marinette was in Damian’s apartment, sorting through his personal belongings. His family had insisted that she do it, to see if there was anything she wanted to keep. To remember him by, they said. It was a daunting task, one she barely felt up to but she still accepted nonetheless. 

She was going through the motions as she filled box after box. She barely looked at his things as she packed them away, not wanting to let herself break down as his family was sitting right outside in the living room of the apartment. 

It was as she began sorting through his clothing that she found it. A dark forest green sweater, it was soft to the touch, well made and well loved. She remembered the first time she’d seen that sweater, the first time she borrowed it. Damian was notorious for never letting anyone borrow any of his things.

It was the middle of December, they were walking back to Damian’s apartment after another one of their dates, when it had started to rain. The rain itself was chilling and unexpected and by the time they arrived they were both soaked head to toe. 

Damian had ushered her in, running to grab some towels to dry off the excess water that was dripping off both of them. He had steered her towards a bathroom, instructing her to shower before she caught a cold. She had protested in the beginning, stating that since it was his apartment that he should shower first and that she also didn’t have anything to change into either. 

He had remedied the lack of clothing quickly, darting out of the bathroom and returning with a small bundle of clothing and reassuring her that he wasn’t nearly as cold as she was. She tried to argue that she wasn’t that cold but given the fact that she was still shivering he clearly didn’t believe her and promptly left the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a click. 

The hot water was a blessing compared to the coldness that had seeped into her bones. She finished her shower, already spending more than enough time under the water. When she emerged Damian was in the kitchen, stirring a pot atop the stove. He was dressed in a dark forest green sweater and black sweatpants, looking much warmer than she felt, even with the help of a hot shower. 

It must have been obvious that she was still cold because Damian had taken off his sweater, leaving him in just a tank top, and pulled it over her head. The sweater itself was large on her. Her arms barely fit three quarters of the sleeves while the rest hung off her frame in a similar style as some of her dresses, ending right before the knees. The sweater was warm and her shivering lessened.

Truth be told, it was Damian’s actions that warmed her rather than the sweater, though the sweater itself was a plus. She could feel her face heat up and Damian simply smiled at her, as if he were aware of his affect on her. She had murmured her thanks before hiding her face in her hands and he let out a small chuckle. 

Damian directed her towards the sofa, which was laden with pillows and blankets. Some looked out of place as if he had rushed out and bought them recently. She smiled at the thought, it had been mentioned in a previous conversation they had, more of an offhand comment than an actual discussion. The care he put into paying attention to her words was almost enough to make her cry. No one had ever listened like that to her before, but Damian clearly had and put effort into making his space more open to her was almost like a confession. 

Damian circled around the sofa with two mugs in hand, one of them adorned with whipped cream and sprinkles. Another tally in his favor as he clearly took note of how she preferred her hot chocolate. He had handed her the mugs and settled down next to her, collecting his mug from her afterwards. They had picked a movie out to watch something light hearted but still bearable to watch.

They had laid down on the sofa after the movie finished. Marinette curled up against Damian and several blankets piled on top of them. The warmth surrounding her combined with Damian’s hands in her hair were lulling her to sleep. She was still awake when she heard him whisper in her ear, ‘I love you’

It was the first time Damian had not only said it to her but also had shown her that he did indeed love her. 

“I miss you, Damian,” Marinette croaked as her knees buckled and she collapsed. Loud ugly sobs wrenched their way out of her throat. She curled up around the sweater on the floor grieving the man she loved.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Sweet Amber, I hope you’re doing well and having a great restful day/night❤️

Happy Autumn 🍂 my favourite time of the year. The crisp in the air, leaves turning colours and the skies are beautiful - isn’t it romantic?

But with change of weather comes the seasonal cough and flu. Curious me wants to know if Little one ever gets under the weather 🤧 how would our gentle giant Alpha Steve take care of her and her tantrums ( well I’m not in my best behaviour when I’m sick)

Also, if he comes to kiss her, would she scold him away cause he’s gonna catch it from her?

I just think Steve would say something cheesy like in sickness and in health Little one… 😂❤️

Happy Autumn! It really is a romantic time of year to me, its all about cozying up and doing all these fun things with your partner. Oof I just love the idea of it so much. But like you said, also the time where coughs, sniffles and some nasty colds happen too.

I feel like the Alpha would have to be ready for his stubborn mate trying to keep him away, not wanting to be the reason he gets sick too. But do you think he would really let her suffer alone? No, it really is a in sickness and health situation for him. Damned if he gets sick too, as long as his mate gets better.

I too am miserable when I get sick, but I am like a gremlin, I hole up and don't want to let anyone take care of me cause I am stubborn fool like that. Haha.

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

You dont normally get sick, alot healthier now then you were when you were living with Pierce as your Alpha. You had a warm place to shelter, Steve made sure there was always food available that you didn't have to fight for, and the whole forest to get plenty of exercise in. (not to mention Steve's own version of cardio)

But occasionally you would get sick and it made you feel thrown back to those days where you constantly fought off some illness that was sweeping through the sales floor. It made you miserable and Steve would notice it right away when you started to withdraw in your mind. He stopped feeling so much of your presence and the Alpha felt the loss of his Little Wolf till the two of them would go searching for you.

Steve let his senses reach out and just as he suspected, he found you curled in your newest nest, the bed a bit chaotic where you dragged all these comfort items into it with you in your attempt to feel better. "Little One?" He said softly, moving some of the piles of blankets and his clothes away to search you out. The Alpha rumbled in the bond, finding his Little Wolf curled in a tight little ball in the back corner of your mind.

He finally felt your heated skin against his fingers, pulling off the last blanket to find you curled up in a fetal position, hugging a pillow where your face was buried into it, his pillow. He frowned at that, your rumble of warning making him pause a moment before his hand rested on your heated skin. "You're burning up."

"Don't come near me Steve." You tried scootching away. "I'm sick."

"Yeah I can see that Little One." He did his best to tamper down his tone, not wanting to put any of that Alpha compulsion into it for you to stop hiding from him, as an Omega you would choose to ignore it. He pulled in closer till he could lean over you to check on you. "But why are you hiding away from me?"

"Because." You sniffled, a bit of sadness bleeding through the nasal tone of your voice, he also felt it in waves now, through the bond, your achy body, discomfort and tiredness, but mostly how you didn't want this to happen to him. That just wouldn't do, not for him.

Steve scooped you into his arms, pulling you out of the nest. You clutched at a blanket, trying to stay. "Steve, you will get sick too!" You protested as he carried you carefully down the hallway to the livingroom to set you on the couch, near the woodstove that was warmer then the bedroom was.

Steve wrapped you back in your blanket, watching you snuggle down into the couch. He moved to kneel next to the couch, his hands gently brushing your hair back from your face. "Then that is on me Little One, but please don't ask me to ignore you, especially when your sick."

That was the moment your throat tickled and you gave a little cough, Steve arching his brow at you as if he was tortured being asked to ignore that. Already in your mind you could feel the Alpha taking care of his Little Wolf, the larger wolf circled his body around hers, grooming her fur and nuzzling her to check that she was okay. You knew that he wouldn't be going anywhere, just like Steve wouldn't be.

"You're such an Alpha." You grumbled, hiding in your blanket a bit to hide the overwhelming feelings that threatened you, acting gruff to keep from breaking down in tears. It was actually nice that your mate wanted to, no other wolf had ever done that and you doubted any of the ones wanting to pay for you would do that either.

"Yeah, I kinda come as a package deal Little One." Steve hid his amusement at your grumbles, knowing it wasn't intentional. Lifting the blanket enough to peek at you, seeing some of the hot tears rimming your eyes. His thumb swept them away, giving you a little smile. "What will it take to let me take care of you Little One?"

You sniffled a bit, your eyes going downcast as you let his question sink in, that he was asking you for this, that it really was important to him. "Remake the nest for me? I made it a mess."

"I can do that, how about I make you some flu tea Wanda put together for our pantry and while your sipping on that, I will remake our nest." Sure to emphasis on the our, since he fully planned on joining you in it whenever possible over the next few days.

Your Little Wolf burrowed into her Alpha's thick fur and that sensation paired with all of Steves quiet warmth coming through the bond made you feel less sad and worried, giving a little nod, you were rewarded with your mates genuine pleased happiness filling you, warming you from the inside out.

"Thank you Little One." he pulled himself to a stand, his large calloused hand cupping your face and dipping down to press his lips to yours, but you pulled back.

"Alpha, you can't kiss me. That really will make you sick."

He scoffed and was quick to do it anyways, his warm sensuous mouth pressing to yours and for a moment, you forgot all about feeling sickly. "In sickness and health Little One, you are stuck with me." He winked and then made his way to the kitchen with purpose, leaving you sighing in exasperation at your stubborn, affectionate and passionate Alpha.

You couldn't help the smile though, not the one that you had while watching him from the couch while he went about the kitchen, making your flu tea but also putting a little plate of your favorite crackers together in case you were hungry too.

Little did you know he was placing a call to Sara to bring him over some of her famous fix it all soup to feed to you later.

Of course once he got the nest rebuilt, fresh sheets and blankets, a few of those items he knew was your comfort items, he would put you back to bed and strip down to spoon himself right behind his Little One, even through you protest that he should sleep be sleeping elsewhere and spend the rest of the night doing everything he could to help you relax and sleep.

Once you finally fall asleep with your head on his chest and completely relaxed does he let himself start to drift off.

[tricogarfield]

Rhun/Zahnfee Headcanon post part 2!

I linked the first Headcanon post in case you wanna check that out!:D Now, in the previous one I explained my general thoughts and how I think the Dark/White thing works! Here, I'll list off some Headcanons regarding this post, pluuus some extra headcanons!

I think Oskar would occasionally visit Rhun, who is chained to these stone pillars. There are a few reasons for that! 1. He likely has a deep fascination for Rhun, if what he said upon meeting xies in canon can be believed. Rhun is the guardian that inspired him to actually learn alchemy, so I think Rhun is the one he "looks up to", aside from Eos obviously. 2. There are a some things that he could find out through Rhun, which could help in the long run. Sure, in the first place Eos will tell them everything they need to know, but it couldn't hurt to try and get some newer information from a guardian. 3. He just feels so smug to have tricked one of the most powerful beings on earth and wants to enjoy it. While he would try to get to know more about the guardians and what exactly it is they have been doing for so many years, his main goal is to just taunt Rhun and rub the fact that xier was tricked by a "mere mortal" in. He wouldn't visit xies regurarily tho. Perhaps he'll visit Rhun 2 days in a row, just to leave xies completely by xierself for 2 weeks, visit again and dip for a month again. Irregular visits, all with different lengths. That would all happen to throw Rhun off as much as possible! Leave xies alone with nothing but xies contradicting thoughts and the pain the chains bring, as we saw in the Spin-Off. It would also make it so that Rhun would actually start looking forward to Oskar's visits, making xies more likely to actually answer to his questions. Now, I dont exactly have a lot of scenarios or possible convo's in my head, but I'm sure, depending on how long Rhun was actually chained there and when exactly Oskar died, there's a lot of stuff you could write for that! Perhaps I will try to bring all this down in a one shot! If not, anyone reading this is welcome to! Long as you give credit ofc :D Now, other headcanons! There is a lot of speculation regarding wether or not Rhun actually has a daughter now and who she is, if maybe Julia is xies daughter and what exactly happened to her, etc., etc. Well, here is what I like to believe! Julia is Rhun's daughter that xier adopted when she was a new-born, however, lost her when she was 4. I imagine that Rhun would perhaps one day hear screaming in the area near the hotel and would check that out, just to find little Julia in a basket with just a thin blanket around her and a frog stuffed animal. And, as heartless as Rhun may seem to be, xier really couldn't just leave a new-born out in the woods, could xier? And just like that, xier took the basket back to the hotel and got little Julia fed and some warmer clothes. After asking Minty for advice on what the hell xier should do with the baby now, she suggested to take her with xies on one of xies nightly trips to collect teeth and leave her at an orphanage. However, xier did not like the sound of that idea, given xies past in the monestary and was afraid that, by doing so, xier would be giving an innocent baby a childhood as bas as xies. Of course the times changed and the odds of her living a good life in an orphanage were much bigger than they were when Rhun was still a child, but xier didn't want to risk it. And like that, Rhun gave her the name Eirlys (a welsh name meaning snowdrop. The reason is because the name Rhun is also of Welsh origin, so I figured it'd only make sense) to commemorate finding her during winter on a little snow hill and started to raise her. Xier was...well, overwhelmed with doing xies job AND taking care of a newborn, but luckily had the help of Minty and Hairy (who xier didn't exactly trust with Eirlys...) to manage.

The first 4 years passed and Rhun has grown extremely fond of xies daughter, however, dreading the day that she as a mortal will unfortunately die. So xier was looking for any way possible to eventually, when she became a grown-adult, turn her immortal as well. And maybe even teach her xies ways and turn her into a Toothfairy.

Unfortunately, when Rhun was busy doing xies job and left the hotel unattended aside from Minty and Hairy, Eirlys snuck out and got lost in the woods surrounding it. In the woods, she met a few kids her age and got invited to play hide and seeks with them. However, while she was looking for a hiding spot, she fell into a well and obviously, couldn't get out anymore.

The new friends she made while playing also didn't find her, as they didn't think of checking the well and were busy looking for her until eventually deciding to go get one of their parents for help. At the same time that was happening, the stranger (Hope y'all know who I mean ;D) found her and luckily, helped her out. The thing is, when Eirlys fell into the well, she hit her head a bit too hard and as a result, barely had any memories from before that. After talking with the stranger a bit, who also guided her more to the edge of the forest, she was eventually found by one of the parents of the kids she was playing with.

The stranger mysteriously disappeared without telling her their name. And, since she did not have any recollection of what happened before she fell into the well, there wasn't any place she could be brought back to. So instead, she was then put into an orphanage but soon got adopted by her canon parents!:D

The thing is, the stranger removed any and all traces of magic that she had on her that she could have gotten from her stay at the hotel. And also kind of made her "invisible" to the guardians, so that finding her, would be near impossible. It would wear off the older so got, but even as an adult, it's difficult for the guardians to fully register she's there.

And just like that, Rhun lost xies daughter. When xier came back that night to find Minty and Hairy both panicking about where she is, xier was devastated AND outraged. Instead of wasting much time being angry at them tho, xier immediately went looking for her. Almost every waking moment of xies is spent looking for Eirlys, aside from doing xies regular job and using the teeth to renew the barrier keeping Eos on the moon and the hotel save.

This is very sad indeed D: not to worry though, I do have a little AU in my head on what would have happened if Eirlys/Julia didn't sneak out that day and would have fully grown up with Rhun :DD I'll make a little post about that one day too! For today tho, that was enough headcanons in one post xDD Or maybe I'll write some more headcanons down later, who knows! Anyway, see y'all!:D

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Spider-Man x Spider!Reader

Summary: Despite it being the holidays, you find yourself sitting alone in tears. Until somebody comes by to make things all better.

Warnings: None, just really fluffy (I guess a little angsty but overall really cute, also kinda short). (Gender neutral reader). (Not proofread).

Your head lulled back, eyes gazing up at the dazzling stars above. The cold bit at your skin, each gentle breeze blowing snow across your face. It was end of December, nearing the holidays which most people enjoyed. It meant spending time with family, friends, and enjoying the coziness of your home. Except you’d be fighting crime and stopping thieves like the year before, and the one before that.

The Empire State Building was an excellent place to get away from the crowded city of Manhattan. The lights weren’t as blinding or as euphoric as that of the city. Instead they were dimmed by the distance, only bright enough to see the white puffs of air that slipped through your mask. This year would be your first without your Grandmother who had moved away from the city in order to be safer. Her involvement with you and your spider life had grown out of hand, she had become a target. Which meant she had to leave. At the time you had no issue with it, in fact you encouraged her to depart. But now that you looked back, you were alone in the city, fighting crime and living off of a crappy job. A long sigh flared your nostrils, the cool air fogging up at the change of temperature.

Maybe you should give her a call, see how she’s doing. Without a second thought you pulled your phone out, going into your contacts and gazing at your grandmothers name. And that’s when you felt them. The hot tears soaking your mask as you sniffled softly. You didn’t want to cry, but the tears had a force of their own. The hand with your phone went limp as your gaze returned to the sky, and your lip warbled with grief.

“Hey, you okay?” You jolted, lenses widening at the sudden appearance of Spider-Man. He stood crouched on the side of the building just below you, an inquisitive look on his face. “Fine.” You responded curtly as you adverted your gaze, a sniffle leaving you. This garnered a soft ‘right’ from the man. It wasn’t as though this was the first time the two have met. You two were actually fond of one another whenever you did meet. Which is why he was now making his way up the building side to take a seat beside you. “Stress?” He questioned as he situated himself.

“I guess you could say that.” You chuckled dimly, although his presence had managed to lighten your mood just a bit. “What about you? How come you’re up here?”

“Being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be a tedious task.” He joked as he stared down at the city. “I believe you.” You gave a smile beneath your mask before rubbing at your arms.

“Cold?” You knew the question was rhetorical, but you couldn’t help but respond with a chuckle. “Heh, yeah..freezing tonight.” He only nodded in response, the red and blue of his suit shining in the moonlight. “Well, here. This was for a friend but, it seems like you need it more.” He picked up a box from beside him, handing it over to you. You accepted reluctantly, giving him a look of confusion before taking a peek at the rectangular red box. Carefully, you opened it, revealing the crumpled up pieces of tissue paper and carefully knitted scarf and hat. You pulled the pieces of clothing out, wrapping the scarf around your neck, and placing the hat on your head. Instantly you felt warmer, inside and out. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach swelled with butterflies. “It’s perfect.” You muttered as you analyzed the cream colored scarf. Then you took a glance at Spider-Man, then back at the scarf, then to him once more. You scooted closer, lifting the bottom half of your mask to place a gentle kiss on his cheek and mumbling a small ‘thank you’.

This reaction came as a surprise to Peter. Sure, he knew you would love the scarf and hat, but the kiss? For once he was gracious for the mask that he wore, for his face now burned with embarrassment. “Y..you’re welcome.” He uttered under his breath as his eyes searched yours, a comfortable yet tension filled silence ghosting by. And for that small moment you both questioned your friendship. But only for that moment. You were the first to break the silence, your hand patting his shoulder lightly as you stood from the buildings ledge. “You made my night a lot better Spidey. But the city needs saving, and we can’t both enjoy the snow. I’ll see you again!” You pounced from the building, diving down head first. The wind whisked across your face, cold and sharp, completely contrasting the feeling in your stomach. You shot a web at the nearest building and swung off into the hectic city, a smile gracing you beneath the mask. You’d certainly call your grandmother later to catch her up on the latest developments.

[el-to-the-even]

Closed Starter

@marvelsmusings Escaping the lab had been the easy part, in the grand scheme of things. Papa was nearly going mad with the possibilities that her abilities opened up for him, for the science of war as they knew it. The fact that she was able to see into people’s minds, tap into electromagnetic signals from across the globe was enough of an advantage to classify her as a weapon of war, and that wasn’t even including telekinesis, or her potential to rip a hole in the fabric of space and time. 

For such a successful experiment, one might think that said experiment would be treated with some human dignity. Not Eleven, though…reduced to a number, subhuman. Of course, Eleven was none the wiser. She was absolutely delighted when she’d be rewarded with a few colored pencils and a piece of printer paper so she could draw. 

She also found it completely normal to be pushed to her limits when it came to experimentation. Ordered to use her powers until she would pass out, or to hurt other living things. And if she refused? They’d haul her off to that dark, dank, lead-lined cell to be left there for hours on end.

She used to being scared. The adrenaline rush was normalized, the feeling of needing to be sick a simple side effect of living. They could hurt her all they wanted…but she couldn’t bring herself to hurt other people. That was when she knew she had to leave, when they pushed her to a point of nearly destroying the lab and the people in it.

From there, she ran. Ran and ran and ran aimlessly through the woods. When she was found by a local, she’d been in the woods on the run for about four days. Hungry, dehydrated, and exhausted. They brought her back to their home and cleaned her up, fed her, gave her warmer clothes than the papery hospital gown she’d been in. Not once did she say anything. She wouldn’t give them as much as her name.

That was when the authorities were called, and S.H.I.E.L.D got involved. All they could gather from her was the number tattooed on her wrist. That, and a sample of her abilities, triggered by an agent visiting the residence and scaring her into sending the agent flying across the room by jerking her head in a general direction of where she wanted the agent to go. They sedated her in order to get her to headquarters. When she first awoke, she thought she was still in the lab. This was different, though. It didn’t matter though, because she was trapped again. When the agents went to check on her, they found her huddled in the corner of the room they’d put her in, knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around herself.

What was classified as a weapon of war- was really a scared child.