#crying I love them so much......... the TENDERNESS

[passengerprincessblog]

"Love and Affection" Lewis Hamilton Short

Summary: Y/N wakes up sick and Lewis takes care of her.

I roll over in bed, my eyes heavy and my limbs weighed down like lead. I glance up at the high ceilings of Lewis’s bedroom; it’s vast, luxurious, and usually makes me feel like I’m waking up in a dream. But today, everything feels muted, dulled by the scratchiness in my throat and the ache in my head. I let out a low groan, hoping somehow the sound might bring some relief. Soft sheets cocoon me, but even they can’t provide any comfort right now.

“Lewis?” I try to call out, but my voice comes out weak, hoarse, barely a whisper. For a moment, I worry he won’t hear me.

I press a hand to my forehead, feeling the unmistakable warmth of a fever. I feel miserable, and the only thought in my mind is, Where’s Lewis? A pang of guilt hits me—I probably slept through his morning routine again, and he’s probably gone off to start his day. Why do I always sleep in so much? I feel the sting of helplessness, and before I know it, my eyes are misty. I grab the water on the nightstand, take a slow sip, letting it soothe the burn in my throat, even if only temporarily.

Just then, I hear footsteps in the hall. A flicker of hope stirs inside me, and a moment later, Lewis appears in the doorway, one of his EarPods in and the other dangling from his ear. His eyes fall on me, taking in my disheveled state, and I see concern flood his expression.

“Did you call me, baby girl?” he asks, pulling out his EarPod completely. His gaze softens as he steps into the room.

“Yeah…” I whisper, sinking back into the bed. “I don’t feel good.” My voice sounds rough, like sandpaper.

His brows knit together as he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “Don’t feel good? What do you mean?” His tone is a gentle scolding as he presses the back of his hand to my forehead, the coolness of his skin like a balm.

“Baby…” he murmurs, his voice laced with worry. “You’re burning up.” He sets his EarPods and phone down, his hand lingering against my cheek, soothing me with his touch.

“I told you, you need more rest,” he says softly, a hint of reprimand in his tone, but I can tell he’s more concerned than anything else. He stands up and disappears into the bathroom, leaving me with a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry…” I murmur, my voice small.

He returns a moment later, arms full of various pill bottles and a couple of little medicine cups. He looks focused as he reads the instructions on each bottle, muttering under his breath about doses and timing. Finally, he pours a couple of pills into his hand, holding them out to me.

“Here, take these,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. I take the pills from him, feeling a strange mix of relief and embarrassment as he watches me like a hawk. Then, he pours some syrupy medicine into a little plastic cup, handing it to me with a sympathetic smile.

“And this…” he says, holding it up. I make a face, dreading the bitter taste, but he raises an eyebrow, giving me a playful yet stern look. I roll my eyes but obediently swallow the medicine, grimacing as it slides down.

“Ugh, gross,” I croak, my voice rasping more than I’d like. Lewis’s expression softens even further, and he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering on my cheek.

“My poor baby…” he murmurs, stroking my cheeks with a touch so tender it almost makes me want to cry again. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” His warm hand cradles my face, his thumb brushing gently along my skin, and I lean into his touch, finding comfort in it.

I frown, feeling even more vulnerable under his gaze. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the chill I feel from the fever.

“I’m here… all day. I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close in a gentle embrace. I nestle into his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my ear.

“Thanks, lovey,” I say softly, feeling my eyes close as I relax into his hold. His arms feel like a fortress around me, a place where nothing bad could ever reach me.

He pulls back slightly, patting my head with a comforting smile. “Let me go make you some soup, okay?”

I nod, too tired to say anything else, and he kisses the top of my head before heading out of the room. The bed feels colder without him, and I sink back into the pillows, letting my eyes drift shut as I listen to the sounds of him bustling around in the kitchen.

After what feels like only a few minutes, but could have been longer, I hear him come back. He’s balancing a tray in his hands with a bowl of steaming soup, a small glass of juice, and a couple of crackers.

“Look at you, all pampered,” he teases, setting the tray on the nightstand before carefully helping me sit up. “Got your royal treatment right here.”

I can’t help but smile, despite the way my throat aches. “You know… I don’t deserve you,” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper.

“Shh,” he says, ladling a spoonful of soup and holding it up to my lips. “None of that, alright? I’m here because I love you.” He brings the spoon to my lips, and I take a small sip, the warmth spreading through me. It’s comforting, the taste of the broth, and the way he’s taking care of me.

As I eat, he stays by my side, chatting about the most random things—what the weather’s like outside, some silly video he watched, even a story about his training mishaps. He does everything to make me smile, and it works. I feel lighter, less like I’m weighed down by the fever.

“Thank you for being here,” I say, setting the empty bowl aside. My throat still aches, but I feel a bit better, even if it’s just because he’s here.

He tucks me back into bed, adjusting the covers around me. “Always, baby girl. Now you rest,” he says, brushing a soft kiss to my forehead. He reaches over, dimming the lights, and I close my eyes, feeling his hand in mine as I drift off, comforted by his warmth and love.

[brother-genitivi]

woe!! Destan and Sebastian be upon ye!!

beautifully illustrated by my wonderful friend @forystr (WHO ALSO HAS COMMS OPEN RIGHT NOW YOU SHOULD GET ONE WINK WONK)

his comm links are here and here :)

[through-a-blackhole]

I think the most heartbreaking part of this is because in the first picture, that’s Future Natsu doing the forehead touch with Future Lucy, and he promises her that they’ll be okay.

But in the second picture, that’s Present Natsu doing the forehead touch with Future Lucy. Present Natsu who had no idea that Future Natsu did that with Future Lucy. He did that gesture out of his own love and gratitude to Future Lucy for going back in time to protect their future.

And the reason Future Lucy is crying in the second picture is because she remembers how her Natsu from the Future did the exact same thing. And her Natsu is dead. And this one, still alive, made her remember how her Natsu did this gesture and she lost him after.

In this one shot alone, you can see the love, sadness, gratitude, and fear that Future Lucy and Present Natsu is experience.

And I just love them so much more for it.

[shiloriin]

And when you kiss my wounds,

I don’t feel as unworthy

of you.

[faembrosia]

No matter how the rest of the Prime show plays out, ghoulcy will forever be this in my heart--

Coop, mid-coitus, because in Lucy's own words sex is a healthy and relaxing way to strengthen their relationship as partners: "... I wonder if she has feelings for me."

Lucy, being lulled to sleep at night by Cooper playing her favorite show-tunes on guitar, after which he cleans and loads her weapons and mends the holes in her clothes, taking first watch so she can have plenty of time to rest: "... I wonder if he has feelings for me."

[wexhappyxfew]

"Hello, love! Could you please write from seeking out physical affection”, specifically comparing hand sizes, holding their hands against each other's, and then just holding hands” Could you also add a kiss on the cheek? For Judy and Rosie.

Tarzan and Jane vibes!

P.S Resending this, because I forgot to say that it is for Judy and Rosie 😆

Love you ❤️

AH HELLO!!!!! thank you so so much for sending this in! both you and @archival-hogwash sent in Judy x Rosie for this AND the same prompt so i hope you *both* enjoy this one!!!! i certainly had a GREAT time writing this, as i haven't done judy x rosie in what feels like AGES!!!!! SO!!! this is probably one of my favorite things for judy and rosie because we really get into their connection on multiple levels, along with their emotions and a piece purely focused on them. i would say this is purely self-indulgent on my part haha! so, i truly hope you enjoy! <3 THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN BOTH OF YOU!! :D

know it's you

(a/n): to the judy x rosie girlies, your joy and support and love for this duo has truly transcended, and so this piece is for you! judy rybinski is an OC i hold incredibly near and dear to my heart and it seems she's made quite the impact as well. plus - her and rosie make my heart melt and there's a whole lot of that here. so please, truly, enjoy! :) definitely love the jane/tarzan vibes in the gifs too hehe - that's so them in ways!!! AND -- to the judy anons earlier talking and asking about judy's past, we see a bit of why that is important to her character right here! ps — there’s some intimacy here but nothing super intense past that! just incase there are some not interested parties!

The barracks were much emptier these days - it still housed the Silver Bullets group, but with them 40% down their normal crew, which was now dispersed halfway across continental Europe, with the other 60% obtaining various positions in the air and on base - quiet was the new normal.

It was an off day and Judy hadn't been one to complain - they'd been doing missions and training relentlessly for days and by this point, to say the exhaustion wasn't getting to her would be a whole other level of lying lunacy. She'd had dinner with the rest of the girls - Dougie joining in beside Carrie because ever since they'd seemed to silently make it official between them, they'd been attached at the hip when they didn't have to be apart.

By that point, everyone else had gone out to the flying club, but Judy wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and read the rest of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - she'd gotten close to the part with the love confession - she could feel it.

Freshly showered, hair nearly dry as it clung to her nightshirt and neck, she sat crossed-legged sideways on her bed, back leaned up against the wall of the barracks, listening to the silent hum of all the bugs outside, the crackle of voices somewhere in the distance and the hum of the lantern light turned on beside her.

If this was peace, she never wanted to let go of it.

It was almost a weird comfort that reminded her of training days - first getting the group of women together when Birdie had called on a crew. Meeting the girls, hanging out late into their off-day nights, talking, hearing peoples' stories and backgrounds and family history. By that point, Judy had taken to wearing her PT shorts to bed with one of the pale wool button-ups that Birdie had requested for the crew. Now, cuddled with her blanket, her button-up and her book, she was as happy as a damn lark. A gentle knock came from the door.

"You in there, Judy?" the voice called through. The corner of Judy's lip drew upwards.

"Who's asking?" She knew. She always did. She grinned wider.

"Who do you think?" the voice called back, a slight chuckle on their lips.

"I don't know…."Judy called back, "kinda hard to distinguish entirely with a wooden door breaking up the noise." She heard the laugh behind the door and couldn't help but take a split-second to brush her lose strands of hair behind her ears and rub a bit underneath her eyes, hoping the dark circles weren't as big as they had been earlier.

"Am I good to come in?"

"All clear." Judy called back. The door slowly pushed open and Judy couldn't help but feel her heart spin a bit out of control at the sight of Rosie Rosenthal stepping inside, crusher cap perched on his head, layered in his A2 and button-up, that look on his face that was a mixture of soft worry and concern all at once.

"Hi." Judy said, watching as he shut the barrack door behind him, waltzing over towards her with that silent look on his face and lips.

"Hey." he said back, pulling over one of the chairs from a table and placing it beside her cot and settling himself into the chair comfortably before leaning forward, "You doing okay? Didn't see you at the officers' club." She could feel the tension in her shoulders slowly unknotting at his worrying question, watching him peel off the A2 and crusher cap; it only took her a matter of seconds to slowly nod, a small smile on her face as she tilted her head.

"Yes," she said quietly, "just didn't feel up for being out tonight, I'll be honest. What about you though?" Rosie watched her as she let her eyes gently draw over his entire face, taking in each aspect of his eyes, his cheeks, his lips that made her feel all over the place on the inside. He grinned.

"Well, I'm glad you're here then," he said quietly with a nod, "sometimes you need a night away." She grinned. "I was at the officers' club. But, I don't know….didn't feel up for being out tonight. Wanted to come and see what you were up to." Judy let out a laugh and gently closed her book and leaned towards him over her crossed legs with a smile.

"Thanks for joining me then," Judy said, "can't promise to be as much entertainment as Dougie thinking he can dance, but….I can tell some pretty good campfire stories around the potbelly stove, I must admit." Rosie chuckled at her words, before looking up at her with a quiet look on his face, blue eyes watching her intently.

Rosie Rosenthal was like that though - he knew there was more behind it. He always did and with the way his mood had shifted, she knew in an instance that he'd been worrying for her longer than just the past hour when he came to see her. He could be in the flying club with the rest of the crews, drinking, having a grand old time, but instead he was here. With her.

"Just you here?" Rosie asked her, a slight tinge of concern in his voice and Judy nodded.

"It's okay," Judy said, looking down at her nails and picking at the edges of them with a shrug, "the other girls needed a night and I just wasn't feeling it. Didn't want them to miss out though. And sometimes just being here is what I need." Judy nodded towards the four usually empty and fresh-made cots. "Sometimes it's like they're here, ya know?"

They glanced towards the footlockers and cots across from Judy - mainly at the end of what was still Lieutenant Bradshaw's cot. Francis generally didn't allow anyone to touch it, open it, hardly even look at it. She always told people that they were coming back - if there was no word on any of the missing members of Silver Bullets or their bodies - they weren't dead. It'd be there until they got back. And Judy always believed Francis, she always did.

Judy couldn't help but feel her emotions wrangle with her heart as she stared at those four lone footlockers, untouched for months, cots forever-made on that last morning they'd been here.

The chair screeched slightly closer and she felt warmth overwhelm her hands, Rosie's large palms taking her small fists into his own hands, the nerves and tension immediately seeming to dissipate. Looking back towards him, she couldn't help but feel a small smile grow on her face, his face inches from her own.

"They're still out there," Rosie whispered quietly, his thumb running circles underneath the knuckles on her left hand, "I know that." Judy slowly nodded, knowing her words would fail her if she tried to talk. Rosie seemed to catch that in a matter of seconds and let out a deep breath.

"Tell me about what you were reading," he said quietly, nearly therapeutically, "that's a good one."

"You've read it?"

"I have." Rosie said, his voice a soothing sound to her ears, "When you have sisters, they convince you to read books like that." Judy gave him a look and he chuckled. "Didn't complain, I promise." Judy laughed lightly, eyes growing soft at his gaze on her as she smiled lazily.

"Mr. Darcy has just confessed his love for Elizabeth Bennet." Judy said quietly, retracting one of her hands to reach up and brush her fingers past some of his lose curls near his forehead, smiling slightly at the chill racing across his body underneath her touch, the way his eyes shut slightly and a small breath left his lips, "I would say it didn't entirely go as planned, but it has been one of my favorite things to read, I must say."

"You think it's a good book so far?" he asked her quietly, and she nodded, hand continuing to slowly careen back and forth over those few curls on his forehead.

"It blows some other books I've read out of the water." she said and she watched as he grinned, his eyes refusing to leave hers as he continued to watch her, the two of them falling into silence.

Watching each other in this quiet way was far more intimate than anything else she'd experienced in life and she hadn't experienced much. Her hand running through his hair, his hands holding her other, inches from each other's faces. Inches.

They each seemed to linger closer to one another, their eyes holding one another's gazes and she found herself welcoming his touch up onto her neck, the warmth making her whole body feel as if it were on fire.

It was always this.

Never touching this way, but still going to an extent before they'd back away. But now, they were alone and it was a warm, spring night and it was different; she wanted to feel something different than grief and loss.

Feeling his fingers grow up her neck towards her cheeks, her eyes shut at his touch; it was a little crazy to think about how close they were, his touch on her neck and face, breath fanning across her face. Maybe this crush wasn't as stupid as she had thought it to be. She was scared to open her eyes that had since closed and look at him, feeling his continual warm breath inches from her lips.

Kiss me, her voice seemed to whisper inside her head, please kiss me. His thumb brushed her warm cheek and she shivered a bit at the touch.

"You're shaking." Rosie whispered, and she shivered again, her heart racing inside her chest. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't do it.

"You make me nervous." she whispered back, her voice sounding light, almost like she was floating. Slowly, she opened her eyes - he was right there. He was so close, staring at her face like she was staring at something holy. His eyes were beautiful so close to her face, deep and caring and full. She had never been touched by someone like him, cared for, held and loved by.

"May I kiss you?" he whispered, his own voice sounding strained, "Please?"

"Please do." she whispered and it was in what felt like milliseconds where she was engulfed by him. His arms wrapped around her back, pulling her into him, his lips pressing earnestly against her own, her body snaking into his lap on the chair and her hands crawling into his hair and messing up those curls that were so perfectly done day in and day out.

Judy melted into him, his hands going up her back into her neckline, her body hot all over the place it felt as he tugged at her bottom lip, a small sigh escaping as she pressed her lips back to his.

It was such a quick-paced and desperate array of kisses - something she had never even experienced in her life. Rosie made a noise at the back of his throat, which made Judy pull back for a second, almost caught off guard - she'd never done this before, what was she even doing - were her hands in the right place? Could she even kiss well enough for it to be worth it? Did it mean anything? For him? For her? For them?

"Hey, you okay?" managed Rosie, trying to catch his breath, his lips a deep red - she realized she'd been sucking a bit on his bottom lip - his cheeks an equally similar color.

"Yeah, yeah," Judy said, her body clinging onto him with her arms and legs latched around his frame, "fine, this….wow."

Words, Judy, words.

It was so intimate to be so close to his face, almost like it was some secret thing no one had ever gotten the pleasure of doing before. She stared at him and watched as he licked his lips and glanced at her lips.

"Just…." Judy started as he watched her, his hands softly clinging to her back, his fingertips sending sparks along the fabric atop her skin, "I…..I've never been like this with someone."

"Like this?" Rosie whispered back, reaching up a hand to clutch at her cheek, brushing her flaming skin and smiling. Judy nodded.

"This….close." Judy whispered, "But for the first time in my life, I trust someone to be like this with." Rosie stared at her, a tender look on his face.

"I feel safe with you." Judy said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Rosie continued to watch her and then smiled.

"Thank you." he whispered softly back, "I feel safe with you, too." Judy felt her heart skip a beat - multiple beats if anything - and smiled.

Within seconds of such a thing to say, Judy was kissing him, wrapping her body around him, pulling her hands up through his hair, every part of her body feeling her heart continuing to race faster and faster.

There was a deep-seeded need, but gentleness that came with his touch to her lips, the exhaustion of the day ever-present, but the want to feel showing in ways she couldn't quite understand as he deepened the kiss there in front of the fire. He slowly bit at her bottom lip as they parted, the two of them shaking, deep labored breaths escaping their lips as Judy slowly looked upwards towards Rosie, staring at his eyes in the quiet darkness that evaded nearly all the light. Judy's hands slowly moved down from his hair to his olive button-up, her fingertips dancing on the buttons.

"Do it." Rosie whispered, his breathing heavy, "It's yours." Just those words seemed to flip a switch in her head as she slowly, button by button undid both the shirt and him.

As she came to the bottom, his bare chest began to show and she slowly let her hands move towards his shoulders, peeling the fabric from his form, down his arms and to the ground. Her body was on fire, as she looked back up towards him, staring at her with those darkened blue eyes that made her go slightly insane. His hands lingered on her waist, hers on his now bare arms, their bated breath held for a moment as they watched one another.

Every movement made her want more, every look, every touch.

Everything made her live with want. Her hands slowly trailed down to his own hands, which felt like they were equally on fire, and she slowly guided them to the front of her wool button-up.

"Judy…." Rosie whispered. She slowly looked up and met his firm gaze and she sucked in a breath. It was so insanely attractive to her to know he was looking at her like this. She leaned slightly closer, still holding his hands to the buttons and watched his gaze.

"Will you help me?" she whispered.

"Yes." Rosie said, almost without any hesitation and immediately began unbuttoning her top, her heart pounding, the need growing.

As soon as the button on the bottom was undone, the top slid off her shoulders to expose her bare chest - and if she was honest, her rather sorry-excuse of a bra - his lips were pressing on her own and goosebumps danced over her skin at the slightly cool air and his touch. His lips were so gentle and soft, placed there on her own, a distant hunger behind each deepening of touch that made her crave more.

Taking in a shuddering breath, his lips moved to a tender spot on her neck and a small noise in the back of her throat escaped - it was almost so light-hearted as Rosie pulled back and softly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and chuckled that soft, breathy laugh.

"You okay?" he whispered and she looked to him, a smile on her breathless face as she looked at him.

"Yeah," she whispered shakily, "yeah. Wow." Rosie smiled at her through the darkness before slowly leaning forward and bringing her into another kiss, him biting her lip, a groan from the back of his throat and a whimper from her own mouth.

The slight grind of his body against hers was making it much harder to just focus on him and his lips. He was kissing her neck again, his lips exploring the whole of her neck, arching down to her collarbone as her eyes shut and far too many pleasant thoughts entered her brain. She was unbecoming in front of him, as he clung to her in a God-like way.

Slowly, Rosie shifted, clutching her to him and moving her to the cot, the blanket soft on her back as he laid her there and then pressed down onto her, his larger form a comforting weight there on top of her.

God, if someone walked in now, what would she say?

But, it was Rosie.

With Rosie, she was safe.

Rosie sucked on her neck, before pulling back for a second, his entire body shuttering as he looked towards her and then smiled, hovering overtop of her and softly kissing her forehead.

"You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met." he whispered softly, eyes honest, almost like he spoke and got choked up in the middle and recovered.

"Thank you." she whispered back, her own throat choking up as she stared at him, the light from the lantern tickling his features, making his face a honey gold.

No one ever had told her such things, touching her and holding her as gently as he had, caring for her like he did. Rosie smiled and then Judy followed, a giggle along with it. Then, they were kissing, their bodies pressed against each other again.

At some point, his lips were on her collarbone and her lips had traversed his face and neck and then they were curled into each other's bodies, as he traced her bare back with a warm finger and she stared at his soft, cuddly face that she planted a kiss to every so often.

Rosie Rosenthal was shy when he wanted to be, but he was nowhere shy about where he wanted to put his hands and mouth.

But in this moment, quiet and intimate, all she could do was watch him.

"I'll admit, I've never been like this with someone," she whispered quietly as his light finger touch sent chills down her spine, "I'm sorry if my kissing didn't offer much." Rosie watched her and then shook his head with a playful scoff, and continued tracing her back.

"Don't say that," Rosie whispered quietly and then brought his lips to her ear, "your lips were reverent."

Judy could feel her body get hot just at his words and slowly turned to look at him as they lied there under the blanket. Her heart pounded as her cheeks grew hot, staring at his devastatingly handsome face watch her right back, like he could see all of her - which in ways, he definitely could.

She leaned forward and captured his lips again in hers, hungrily deepening the kiss, both their lips red and swollen as she bit down tenderly and a groan filled his mouth. She was sinking underneath him as he deepened the kiss against her lips this time. His warm hands were dancing across her bare-skinned chest and eventually reached the waistline of her shorts.

And the second she felt a finger on her waistline, her entire body grew cold and froze. She stopped kissing him, her lips growing shut, her eyes blasted wide-open and her shoulders immediately tense. Rosie pulled back in an instant, his hands on her cheeks gently, his own eyes open above her, worry pooling in his blue eyes as he looked down.

"You okay, Judy?" he whispered quietly, slightly out of breath, "We can stop." Judy looked at him, her eyes suddenly filling with tears she hadn't quite expected.

She didn't want to cry, why was she crying. No, no, no.

"Oh, hey, hey, c'mere." Judy put a hand over her mouth, Rosie coming off the top of her, reaching over the edge of the bed to grab his collared button-up. As tears grew down her cheeks, Rosie gently guided her arms into the long sleeves of his button-up, pulling it overtop her bare shoulders, before slowly buttoning it up, button by button.

"C'mere, Judy." Rosie whispered quietly, positioning himself sitting up against the pillows on the cot, allowing her to curl into his body, head snuggled against his bare chest, comforted by his presence, the scent of his shirt that always smelled like that pleasant cologne he always wore, and the quietness of the world surrounding them, "You okay, Jude?"

Whenever he kept repeating her name, it always brought her back, it allowed her to ground herself and think and keep her mind clear. Because it usually meant he was trying to get through to her and calm her down. And it always worked.

Judy could feel his hand around her waist, his other hand gently brushing through her hair, over and over in the most soothing manner. A mixture of embarrassment and guilt hit her in that moment curled beside him.

Would he think that he'd done something wrong?

Would he not like her because she couldn't do it?

Whatever it really was?

Would he think she was too inexperienced and naive?

Would he-?

"I'm sorry," she whispered out against his chest, the tears continuing to well in her eyes as she let out a shaky breath, "I just….it's me."

"No, no, it's okay," Rosie whispered quietly above her, gently pressing a kiss to her head - she could hear the smile in his voice, "it's okay." Judy snuggled closer into him and let out another shaky sigh.

"I'm not ready," she whispered through tears, "to do that yet. I'm sorry."

"No, no," Rosie said quietly - quickly, "don't apologize. You don't have to apologize to me, okay? Or…better yet, at all. You're ready when you're ready and if it's not yet, that's okay." Judy slowly peaked up at him, red-rimmed eyes, her nose probably getting drippy, looking far less unpleasant than she had earlier.

"Are you sure?" she asked him quietly and he gave her the sweetest smile she'd ever seen.

"I am." he said quietly, reaching up to brush at some tears on her cheeks, "I just want to be with you, Judy, that's all. In anyway I can." Her heart released the tension it had held for a brief moment and she nodded, a small smile peaking out.

"There's that grin," he whispered, pressing another kiss to her forehead this time, "there it is." Judy smiled wider and couldn't help but press closer to him, trying to gain access to every part of him there, curled into him in anyway she could. In a quick second though - she came quickly to the realization of what had just occurred and looked up at him.

Kissing him, kissing Rosie Rosenthal, kissing him the way she had and him kissing her back with just as much desperation as she did to him.

"That was my first kiss." Judy whispered quietly, staring out in front of them, towards where the sun had finally set out that little window, "My first….anything like that."

Maybe Judy should've held off saying that because Rosie froze there beside her, the hand on her hair going still, the hand on her waist tightening. She slowly peaked up at him and saw him watching her, a mixture of worry and concern mixed in his eyes and maybe a slight bit of nervousness that wasn't there before? She sat up a bit, and reached forward with her free hand that wasn't tucked against her body and lightly brushed her fingers against his face, smiling automatically, his own grin growing on his face afterwards.

"I'm…quite honored to be your first, Judy." he said quietly, the nervousness in his voice probably one of the cutest things she'd heard in a while, "Firsts are always special, so…."

"You always make everything special for me, you know that?" she said quietly, tilting her head against him, "That was really special though. Truly." Rosie watched her with that soft grin and she couldn't help but lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, the quickness of the familiarity of his lips almost insane to her - that her body could so instantly store in her mind the touch and feel of his lips just like that, his presence, his touch, him. Pulling back slightly, she watched him.

"Even if my first didn't…..go all the way, I guess." she said.

A few years ago, she remembered when all the towns girls would talk about their firsts - she remembered some were even getting married or having their first born! And there'd been Judy, waiting and waiting. Feeling left behind, embarrassed, too quiet not to say anything, too much of an outlier to say that she felt she was behind in the first place.

In her mind, she knew she was being too hard on herself, but it was something about her past few years that did it to her. But Rosie was stopping that and telling her there was no rush - he just wanted to be there. With her. And that was more important than anything.

"It doesn't have to," Rosie said quietly, cupping her cheek and smiling tenderly, "it doesn't need to. It's whatever you want it to be. And to even just….know it's you…." Judy watched him, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes as her cheeks slowly heated, despite the realization she'd been heavily making out with him moments earlier. He'd probably always have that effect on her.

"Know it's me?" she whispered. Rosie smiled, lovingly running his hand back through her hair before coming to dote underneath her chin, raising it up gently and pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Yes." he said quietly.

"What does that mean?" He watched her and grinned again.

"Ask me again in a few months." he whispered back to her, pressing another kiss to her forehead, making her feel all warm and fuzzy. Slowly, he held up his hand and she reached out her own hand to press against his - she giggled.

"Your hand is so big, Rosie, God," she said with a laugh, hearing his chuckle from somewhere above her, "mine is so tiny."

"It's cute." he whispered quietly, clasping his fingers around her hand, holding it there against his chest.

Staring at their intertwined hands against his chest, an aggressive feeling for him suddenly took shape and she realized how quick it was that it was in fact the feeling of genuine love.

Affection.

Adoration.

Love. For someone like him. For every part of him in every way.

Judy looked up at him, meeting his gaze again there in the lantern light and couldn't help it as she leaned towards him and lovingly pressed a kiss to his lips that slowly got deepened and rather emotional and slow and infused with a tenderness that she'd never felt before. It was slow movements, their heads and lips moving in unison, breaking every so often for a collection of air, before connecting again, their noses brushing, bits of laughter escaping every so often. Judy couldn't help but laugh at how ticklish his mustache was against her upper lip. It was all so gentle and peaceful - she had never felt so at peace with someone like this.

"If one of the girls came in now…."Judy whispered, before breaking into a laugh, "I'd probably never live it down." Rosie let out a small chuckle and shook his head against her softly, before pressing another kiss to her lips.

"You're something else, Judy Rybinski," he said quietly, eyes meeting hers again and she couldn't help but swell with emotion, "ever since I met you. Something special."

[missmungoe]

“You’re such a pretty man,” Makino sighed, touching her fingertips to his cheek, before rubbing his beard with her thumb. “Your wife is very lucky. Oh—hey.” Her whole expression brightened, her smile entirely cheeky. “That’s me.”

Shanks grinned, delighted. “You are absolutely hammered, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, I think I’m about to be.” She frowned. “Wait—was that not a euphemism?”

My masked Zorro, the unbelievably generous and tantalisingly mysterious Cover Anon, sweeps in once more with another gorgeous cover from Shanties, this time for Penelope (aka, the wedding fic, my beloved), by the incredible @sacred_pirate on twitter.

I...don't know how it's possible to capture the way a fic exists in my mind so perfectly it's like the artist reached into my soul, and yet that's what this feels like. This is one of the most beautiful artworks I've ever seen, and I can't believe it's from my fic, and this fic.

[goatsandgangsters]

I finished A Power Unbound and now I'm having a happy little sob about it and feeling many Big Emotions that I'm incoherently blubbering about and only managing to express as a joyfully tearful "it was beautiful"

[dankest-of-lies]

last 2 pages of the official mysterious skin script: (see previous post for the other pages)

[unknownarmageddon]

cross set his cup down, his tired eyes taking in the sloshing wave of his hot chocolate. it gleamed a pretty hazel brown in the light of the setting sun, steaming hotly, freshly poured. the sweet taste still burned his tongue in a sugary aftertaste that settled his rickety nerves.

the whisps fluttered up into the air, and cross felt a pulse of warm fondness, following the curling trails until the overlapped with the thicker pale smoke that killer himself blew out from where he sat outside on their short little balcony.

they moved in together just recently, and had finally settled into routine; cross with his daily cup of hot cocoa and killer with his daily smoke. cross's softened eyelights traced down the smoke, back to the source, only to find that killer was staring back at him.

the warm feeling in his chest sent his cheeks alight, tightening his throat and making his soul balloon in his chest, and he was helpless to the broad smile that broke out across his face. he felt dizzy with joy, with a happiness so strong that he felt like he'd choke on it.

the balcony doors slid open and the bitter twang of killer's cigarette filled the air, mingling with the sweet chocolatey smell, and cross couldn't think of anything else he'd rather smell.

"you're staring," killer chuckled, putting out his cigarette in his ashtray and hissing out the final little puff of smoke. it parted around him, spinning as he stepped through the fading cloud and sliding right into his rightful place beside cross, slotting himself against him so neatly that it floored cross once more with how perfectly they fit.

every passing day was another added moment of certainty that they belonged together. killer's head found its place on cross's chest, cross's arm settled where it belonged around killer's shoulders, and cross hummed as he pressed a kiss to killer's skull, "so were you."

"you just looked so damn pretty, i couldn't help myself."

cross's soul fluttered, and he felt a pressure bubble in his chest, a need to just kick his feet and squeal and shout his love from the rooftops, but all he managed was a shuddering breath, and he put his phone down, pulling killer's head up by the chin to slot their mouths together, relishing in the surprised, but pleased noise that rumbled between them from the depths of killer's chest.

this was it. killer was it, this was where it all was. cross didn't ever want to see an end to this, he'd give his everything if only to keep killer here, to keep time standing still--

cross opened his eyes.

the fire popped and cracked steadily behind him, warming his back, dimmer but still as hot as before. he'd have to add some fuel to it, killer was always prone to getting cold at night more than cross was.

cross carefully slid out of the sleeping back, taking gentle care not to move too harshly or suddenly, and he quietly knelt by the fire, nudging some branches and twigs into it and stoking the fire with the tip of his machete.

he stared into the fire, his eyelights dim in the dark, bags under his eyes, his sockets aching with a stiff dryness and stuffiness that came from lack of proper sleep.

a chilly breeze blew by, and he shivered as it went right through his worn shirt and pants. he didn't have his coat available though, not tonight.

he tended to the fire a little longer, and lifted his head, still heavy with sleep, to squint at the muddy red horizon, trying to gauge how many hours of night they had left. the dark was a little more diluted than before.

cross left the fire, and crouched by his backpack, his fingers numb from the biting cold as he found canned soup. it was the last one before they would have to eat dry packaged food, until they could find more.

he pushed the can into the hot soil close to the fire, burying it halfway and scraping some of the glowing bits of wood over it, watching as they pulsed red and orange over and over. he clapped his hands a bit, clearing the dirt from his hands, checking the distant horizon once more for a moment, letting his hands hover over the fire.

the chill finally sent him silently padding his way back to the bedrolls, hands warmed by the fire, the rest of him aching from the chill. it didn't matter, though. not tonight.

killer's head poked out just barely from the layers he was tucked in, his face pale even for a skeleton. his breath was shaky, thin and reedy, pained, his expression contorted in discontent.

he stirred as cross's warmed hands cupped his chilled cheeks, his eyes hazily cracking open to the a slit, and his eyelight, fuzzy and blurred with pain peered up at cross.

"...up..?"

cross shook his head, "no, no.. not yet--" he bit his tongue, hard enough to cut into the ecto, before adding a hesitant, "sweetheart."

the pet name was stilted from him, awkward and tinged with discomfort, but it earned a wry smile all the same, and that was all he wanted. it made it worth it. he could try, he could go that extra step, for killer's sake.

"c'm back t'bed," killer slurred, and cross scrambled to heed it, readjusting killer first, setting him closer to the fire and easing him onto his side with careful touches, wincing when killer whimpered at the movement.

"easy, i've gotcha," cross reassured, bowing over him to nuzzle a kiss to killer's skull, the act full of apologetic affection. killer settled again, whispering hoarsely, "m'cold.."

cross's mouth pressed into a thin, upset line of dismay at the watery tone, the sheer misery in killer's voice, and he grit his teeth before hastily shedding his thick, long sleeve shirt, "okay, just- one second, amor, one moment."

killer whined his protest, the sound wrenching at cross's soulstrings, but he forced himself to stay on task, standing by the fire to hold his shirt over it, close enough that he risked getting burned by any embers that went skittering up into the sky.

he gladly took that risk.

it took a minute, a minute longer than he would have liked, but he needed to warm up killer. he waited, letting his bones soak up the heat, retaining it far better than killer could, his magic greedily clinging onto the heat, the temperature letting his magic flow freely again and his natural heat, a fraction of it, returned to him. having high LV really was, sometimes, handy, and as much as he hated the occasional episode it brought him [and he fucking despised the pain it put killer in, he hated it so much, he fucking hated it--]

he was thankful to have it now, regardless, because it allowed killer some relief in times like these.

cross hurriedly returned to the bedrolls, trying his damned best to keep his touch gentle, to not jostle killer too much, as he pulled the fire-warmed shirt over killer's freezing bones, and killer's broken moan of relief soothed cross's rankled instincts, his soul calming just the slightest.

"okay?" he asked lowly, and killer's wavering eyelight flickered, focusing again on cross's face, and he even sounded a little better, just barely. it wasn't enough, no where near better enough for cross, but it was still something.

"m-mmn," killer mumbled affirmatively, and cross heaved his own relieved sound, and finally, slid himself back into the sleeping bag, still so careful, whispering apologies over and over at every hurt warble killer let out.

LV breaks were ruthless on killer.

cross's LV wasn't anywhere near as high as killer's. he hadn't started gaining any until after the world ended, only ever killing these days out of necessity; defending himself, catching food, fighting for supplies. survival. his LV was manageable. it gave him headaches, mild migraines at worst, left him itchy in a way that drove him up the walls sometimes, and gave him heat flashes, warming him to the point of shedding most of his outer layers if it was bad enough, but he was fine at the end of the day. it never lasted long.

killer's LV was... something.

it made cross wonder, sometimes; how the hell had killer's LV gotten so high? this kind of LV didn't come from just survival. killer never really told him why his LV was so high, and despite cross's curiosity, he didn't push for it.

it was another life, anyways, another person who'd collected that LV, and now it was killer who was left behind coping with it.

it drained the strength from his body, weakened his soul, pulled his magic thin, making it painful for him to move, to breathe, his magic stretched so thin at his joints that he'd described the feeling of moving like being torn in half. his bones itched fiercely, so much that it burned sometimes, the feeling leeching outwards from where his soul hovered over his chest. and the migraines.

killer groaning into cross's chest, his every other wail breaking with hitching sobs, his eyesockets, his nose, his mouth even, gushing with black liquid so thick that it strung between them every time killer pulled back, staining cross's shirt with thick clumps like honey or syrup. he was choking on it, spitting it up in chunky globs laced with red blood that made cross's own magic twist with nausea.

the migraines were the worst of it. killer compared the feeling to that of a concussion, of getting struck in the head so hard, you see white. it makes me want to scream, killer had said. on a scale of one to ten, one being a papercut and ten being a broken bone, it's a solid fucking twenty. i think the only thing that would hurt more is my soul getting ripped in half.

killer pressed his black-stained face into cross's bare sternum, and cross shuddered at how ice cold the sticky fluid was. it tickled the inside of his ribs as it slid in thick drops over his bare ribcage. cross ignored it easily, pulling killer's trembling body to his own, grimacing at the chill killer's body gave off.

that was another thing. it was either a burning feeling, leaving killer feeling so incredibly warm that cross had once caught killer lying fully nude in an ice-cold puddle, or it left killer so cold that he felt like he'd shrivel up into dust, trembling and whimpering in cross's arms as he desperately sought out every bit of warmth cross's body and the layers piled onto him could offer.

cross winced as killer's cold breath brushed over cross's collarbone, and cross finally caved into killer's earlier request from the night before, and let his ecto form fully, already warm with cross's warmer magic and his intent to soothe, his soul summoning as well, sitting readily contained within the opaque magic of his ecto and ribcage.

"okay?," he asked, checking first, and only when killer nodded, cross pulled him flush to himself, doing his best to wrap himself around killer, hugging him to his chest and letting his magic's intent to warm, heal, protect, soothe seep into killer.

another whimper bubbled from killer's open mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as his soul, as it always did when they were this close, phased through cross to sit within cross's ribcage, right up against cross's own soul, right where it belonged. a shiver wracked killer's body as his soul, buzzing with hurt and upset, pressed itself into cross's welcoming soul, soaking up the offered warmth and love.

cross held killer close, tense, uneasy, as killer folded his arms within the space between them, and he was so cold still, but, just a little less.

a little better.

"..i had a dream about you," cross whispered, low, because killer once told him that he hated the quiet.

killer huffed a quiet laugh, his soul's buzzing wavering, changing in pitches, and the faint murmur of affection passed between their souls. the corner of cross's mouth twitched upwards at killer's croaky voice, "t-tha's'cute.. whassabout?"

cross ran a hand up and down killer's back, his eyes shutting as he tried to recall the faint, fuzzy memory of warmth and contentment.

"well, it was.. short. but," cross rolled the words on his tongue for a second before recounting it, "the sun was setting.."

his voice filled the quiet, soft and as unobtrusive as he could make it, recounting every detail he could recall, until he recounted all he could remember, and continued on, making up more and more, their souls singing to each other within his chest.

he wasn't sure when it happened, only noticing it when killer's soul responded like it was speaking through water, and cross glanced down, and found killer sound asleep, his cheeks flushed a healthy red and expression soft and lax.

his breath was warm and steady on cross's bare chest.

cross's soul pulsed, warming, a feeling ballooning in his chest and tightening his throat, and he was helpless to the crooked smile that broke out across his face.

this was where it all was.

-p anon :]

"but i'll hold you like i do love you" arms by the paper kites

OH MY GOD????????????

[bunnyboy-juice]

blah blah blah blah blah

[moonchild-in-blue]

you & i can form a soft girlie (gn) support group. it’s just a giant cuddle pile with comfy blankets and tasty snacks while listening to tender-hearted tunes.

Omg can we actually? I'll have you know I cry embarrassingly easy. If someone puts the Spirit or Tarzan soundtrack is absolutely over for me 🥺

We're gonna need a good stash of kleenex, balm (for the nose) and ibuprofen (for headaches) hahaha

[chloelouygo]

Ugh I am just bursting at the seams with tendershipping love rn

[pcrtgasdace]

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[wonbillion]

every time i think about okuyasu and keicho i just