#i feel like it's so right to draw the judge without fur

[cardo-de-comer]

always love an excuse to draw a cat so here's the judge big stretch. and sum more paper stuff but it's not as interesting

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tears IV

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: You and Fluffles

It's not often that people come around to the house.

Most of the time, it's you and Mami.

But today it's you, Mami and some of her teammates.

Mami usually does team bonding at their houses when you're away with Abuela and Tia Alba but today she's been convinced to open the house to them.

They're as quiet as a group of football players can be, having been lectured by Alexia at training today about being respectful of your needs if they're going to be invading the house together.

It's after dinner that they arrive. It's late, not enough for you to be in bed but late enough for you to have already had your night time bath and be in your pyjamas.

You hide away most of the time in your bedroom, just drawing but you pop out occasionally to show Mami what you've created.

The living room is loud with chatter and the tv has been commandeered by Jana and Bruna to play FIFA while everyone else watches and yells out tactics to try to help.

You're sitting on Mami's lap when suddenly everything gets a bit overwhelming and your skin becomes itchy with unease. You go tense, locking up all of your muscles at once until you're frozen like a statue.

Mami notices instantly, slipping your ear defenders on and lightly tap you off her lap. "Go and get Fluffles, pequeñita," She says.

You shake your head, still completely stiff. You glance around the room at where the girls are still watching the screen.

"No one's going to judge you for needing Fluffles," Mami says," I think you're in need of some Fluffles cuddles."

You sniffle and reach for her hand, tugging on it so she comes with you.

"Alright, pequeñita," She says," Let's go and get Fluffles."

You tug out at the collar of your pyjama shirt. You don't like how to feels against your skin and Mami tugs it off you. The air is a bit colder now but it feels nice on your heated skin and you can finally relax when Mami heads into Fluffles' room and unlocks her cage.

Fluffles leaps out of her cage instantly, darting around the room briefly before she leaps into your waiting arms. Her little hands press against your shoulder as you push your face into her soft fur.

Mami got your Fluffles last year for your birthday and she was your favourite thing in the whole world. She was so soft and little and she always made you feel so much better when you held her.

"Do you want to stay in here?" Mami asks," Or should we go back to the living room?"

You think it over for a moment, content with just holding Fluffles against you as she grunts softly against you.

"I take Fluffles with me?"

"Of course," Mami says," I'll even warm you up some milk. Do you want to go back out to the others?"

You nod. "With Fluffles."

It's nosier in the lounge than in Fluffles' room but you've got your ear defenders and your Fluffles so things are getting better.

Mami returns you to your spot on her lap as she sits on the sofa again.

Fluffles rests against you as you take big, deep breaths like Mami taught you to.

"I told you it would be a good idea," Irene says to Alexia when she notices," Pets are always good for kids."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "Oh yes because you can definitely compare your dog and son with my daughter and her chinchilla."

Paredes shrugs. "But I was right. They're cute together."

"They're not cute together when Alba lets it free to roam around the house without permission. I've had to put wrappings around all the wires."

Paredes holds her hands up. "Hey, I said get another dog. You're the one that gave her the chinchilla."

"She loves it," Alexia replies," It helps with her issues. It's the fur I think. If she could take it everywhere with her, she would. I think she wants another one too."

Paredes laughs. "Good luck with that."

Fluffles shifts in your arms until she's buried in the crook of your elbow, falling asleep quickly as you hold her.

Your whole body relaxes as Fluffles does and Mami very gently moves your ear defenders to rest against your neck.

"Do you still want your milk, pequeñita?"

You nod and she very carefully sits you on the sofa while she goes off to the kitchen.

With Mami gone, it's just you and Fluffles and you give her lots of little kisses as she naps.

Keira slides in next to you and very carefully points at Fluffles. "Who's this?"

"Fluffles," You answer," Mami got me her for my birthday last year."

"That's nice. What kind of animal is she?"

"A chinchilla. She's very soft."

"That's nice," Keira says," Does she live in your room?"

You shake your head. "Lives in the spare room so she has lots of room to play."

"That's cool. Is she your best friend?"

You nod. "Her and Mami."

"Her and Mami what?" Mami asks as she returns.

"My best friends," You reply," You and Fluffles." You think for a moment. "And Teeny."

"You're so sweet, pequeñita," Mami coos, layering kisses over your face," You're my best friend too."

You're sat on her lap again quickly and Mami holds your sippy cup of warm milk for you to drink out of.

The noise of the rest of the team has quietened down now because someone's put on a movie to watch. It's an adult movie so it's pretty boring and once you're done with your milk, you shift to get more comfy on Mami's lap.

Her fingers card through your hair before gently drawing circles on your belly. It's nice and relaxing and Fluffles soft weight in your arms is just perfect.

"Alright you lot," Alexia says," Come on, out."

"Aw, Ale!" Mapi complains," Why?"

Alexia glances down at you. "Because my pequeñita needs to go to bed now. You just being here has tired her out!"

Mapi laughs. "See, Ingrid? I'm good at getting babies to sleep when it's late!"

Ingrid rolls her eyes. "Not a chance, Mapi! Teeny's bedtime is the perfect bedtime for her. I'm not changing it."

The girls all stream out promptly after that and Alexia is left to get you and Fluffles settled in bed. She returns Fluffles to her cage and lifts your limp body up into her arms.

She bypasses your bedroom entirely and tucks you nice and safe into her bed, sliding in next to you.

[chrysalizzm]

ttdtn blurb: execution

“Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, Sam?”

warnings: references to abuse, abusive relationship, references to torture, c!sam neg, vague body horror, death

for @lookinghalfacorpse's phenomenal fic the trees deny themselves nothing, which has been living in my head for the past month.

People always forget that Phil is millenniums old. That he’s put on every face there is. That he’s spoken every tongue that’s lived and died. He can clean any wound and ease any illness, and when the bombing was over and the dust had settled he’d limped through the crowd and offered potions and poultices, and consolation if they’d take it, so: of course they think he’s a senile old man who only knows pain and death. Of course.

But Sam, all of king and court magician, redstone genius and pickpocketing slummer, should know better.

And he does seem to remember, judging by the full-body flinch he greets Phil with at the door to his old workshop. All his fur roils on end, a forest of green, as he says, “Philza.”

“Hi, mate.” Phil folds his wings back demurely, watching Sam’s eyes follow the Void-black sheen of them. He steps over the threshold without waiting for an invitation to do so, steering Sam back towards his workbench with a thump on the back. He kicks the door closed behind him, and it creaks laboriously shut with a protesting groan. Sam’s gaze flickers to the door. Back to Phil’s wings. The fine, faint feathers dusting Phil’s cheeks prick up.

“Nice space you got here,” he says, real friendly-like, parking Sam’s ass in one of the only chairs that doesn’t have a chunk taken out of it for tinkering. “Gloomy and shit. Perfect for you. Is this body going blind yet?”

Sam straightens. “No,” he says mechanically. “My eyesight is perfect, thank you. I’ve improved both foveal acuity and the range of peripheral vision in my left eye. I could track in the dark.”

“Like you couldn’t before,” Phil teases. “Creeper vision and all, yeah? Though the wider periphery is nice. Bet you can see anything getting away.”

Sam’s voice comes out so stiff and starched Phil could probably make a sheaf of paper out of it. “In theory, yes.” 

Phil draws his gaze away from Sam—who knows better than to run from the mythical angel that haunts every page of every history book—to observe the rows and rows of tinkertoys, the delicate baubles, the shiny trinkets. He can practically hear his feathers puffing up in glee. It’s really a shame he knows that Sam’s hands shaped them; all he wants to do is pulverize them into pretty glittering grime.

“Is there anything specific you needed, Phil?” Sam asks, apparently having regained enough of his wits to brave impatience. “I’m busy. I just got an important commission and I really need to get to it.”

“You’ll sit right there until I say you can leave or I will sprout wings of flame and turn your bones into glass,” says Phil mildly. “Is that clear?”

Silence rings out into the workshop. A leaky faucet somewhere drip-drip-drips into the hollow quiet. Sam shifts. 

“...Crystal.”

“Perfect. Glad to see we’re on the same page.” Phil’s eyes flicker briefly to the ceiling, where Sam has, perhaps for posterity, installed a flimsy skylight. A crow—soon to be a whole murder of ‘em—pokes its inquisitive little head in, and Phil stifles a smile. Turning to face Sam, he tucks the smile behind the fan of his clawed fingers and asks, “Why did you lie to me?”

Sam jerks. “What?”

“You lied to me. You claimed you had no underhanded intentions with Dream, yet you took his leg and left him for dead. You claimed you were keeping no secrets, only to lie, repeatedly, to my face. You claimed you would do everything in your power to rectify your mistake, but you’ve instead made a bigger one.” Phil folds his hands over Benihime’s hilt, feeling her purr under his palm. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Sam?”

Sam, clearly not understanding what Phil’s saying, scoffs. “I never lied to you once,” he says matter-of-factly. “I adhered completely to my code of ethics as both an engineer and the Warden, and acted upon the best interests of everyone on this Server.”

“Taking out a perceived threat,” Phil agrees cheerfully. Sam stumbles over his words, caught off-guard by Phil’s concurrence, and it gives Phil the room to continue, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about what you said over and over for the past three days, mate. Had a lot of time to sorta mull things over, as like.” A minute tense of the knuckles; in the back of his head, Benihime hisses. “But that’s not all that I’m here for.”

Sam lifts his head, shucking off his redstone-stained goggles. His eyes are round: comically surprised. “It’s not?” he says.

Phil smiles with all his teeth. His wings sharpen against the air. The shadows at his feet stretch and seethe. Sam recoils. 

“It’s not. I’m here not only because of those things, but also because you used Dream.” Phil’s voice unspools in a low croon. Quietly, quietly, so not even the crows overhead can hear and whisk the sacred words back to his wife. “Before the Old World fell, they had a name for what you’re doing to Dream. They called it Stockholm Syndrome. Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, Sam?”

Sam, his green pelt gone over gray like the gunpowder he’ll fade into if Phil takes a knife to his skull, shakes his head. Ever an eager student, quick to confess to his ignorance. Between becoming empress of a kingdom and a girl in the wilds running with the wolves, Phil had spent a stint as a young king’s tutor, pleased by how quickly the cunning kid caught on. One of many regrets, in the end.

“It means Dream knows how you think about him. He understands. He empathizes. He knows what you think he is, and he agrees. He might like you, Sam. He might even like you a lot, so much that he will ignore anyone trying to save him because you have convinced him he should not be saved. Maybe even that he does not deserve to be saved.” Techno had told him about the incident in the barn, and they both have eyes; you don’t survive centuries amongst the Servers without developing a sixth sense for interpersonal relations. Besides, Phil came before Techno. Much, much before, when there were names for these things, and people knew that you could look at your captor like a lover. Times have changed. People, it seems, have not.

“I don’t know all the details of what you and Quackity did to him in that prison. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. But I care that somehow, while doing what you fucks did, you convinced him that he is not a person, and that he does not deserve love, and that he doesn’t get to live.” The lurid, limpid fury that Phil had carefully banked before leaving burns back to life in his chest now, saying what he knows to be true out loud. “And he believes those things in part because he thinks he loves you.”

Phil didn’t tell Techno—he would have had a fit, and maybe snapped Sam’s neck, not that Phil would’ve been too pressed to stop him—but he’d walked in on an entirely different thing just a day or two after Dream’s first steps. He’d closed the door the moment he realized what was going on, but skin on skin, Sam holding Dream like a worshiper at the feet of an idol: Sam is fooling himself too. “And I think you might have used him. Just a thought.”

The air of the workshop is cold in Phil’s lungs as he draws in a careful breath. He’s always wary of losing his temper. It’s one thing to do it in front of Techno, who’s plenty immortal himself and could probably withstand an accidental eyeful; it’s another thing entirely to do it in a place not specially warded and enchanted and lined brick to brick with sigils to keep the eldritch from spilling everywhere. Once it gets out, there’s no getting it back in, so: deep breaths. Bit by bit, the inferno simmers low. His feathers ease back down. Benihime’s howls fade away.

Sam swallows hard, his throat bobbing in the dark. His new eye throws off bits of light when he blinks. He stands, and he smooths off his pants, and there are a thousand, a million words caught in Phil’s throat, held fast only by the pacts of gods, as the measly little mongrel of a creeper before him says, “I only do what he lets happen to him.”

Dream’s earnest face, his faint smile, drift in a golden-brown smudge across Phil’s eyes. “He only does what I let him do to me.” 

Philza remembers a time before the gods walked the earth. A time before monsters and a time before the Builders. He even remembers a time before the Servers, though that’s a secret sealed in blood and ichor he’ll only divulge if he wishes to die. He remembers floods and famines and foul, fetid plagues. He remembers every bone broken, every life lost. He remembers the Nether before it was a ruin of hellfire. He remembers the End before the night swallowed it whole. He remembers the Ancient Cities when they were not so ancient, before the sculk sprayed its spores, before the Warden—the real one, not a plaything for a pathetic, mewling nuisance to emulate—came through the Builders’ doorway.

Phil has been empresses, wild children, healers, teachers, gods in human skin. Phil is the oldest thing he knows.

He feels every inch his age and horror and terrible, untethered knowledge as he sheds his skin into tongues of flame.

His limbs are End in their own way, cold Void, but that’s just because of his ill-advised dealings with the Ender King. The rest of him is Blaze Empress to the bone, blessed by Hell, kissed by Death. What manner of creature could stand against his full glory, the sheer brutality of his rage? Certainly not a silly little wannabe immortal with wide, stupefied eyes and a dumb, slack mouth. Certainly not a pitiful sack of meat and bone that whirls to pick up a golden trident and is struck down between the shoulder blades with the tip of a blade whittled so finely it winnows the ligaments of his vertebrae and sticks him to the wall opposite, where he screams and curses and makes all manner of noise.

Phil chuckles, amused. It’s a sound that no mortal was meant to hear. Quite possibly it ruptures one or both of Sam’s cochleae, because the man’s ears start to bleed as he shrieks. It’s a shame. Phil had a whole spiel ready to go.

Glossy black bodies wobble across the skylight, squawk in alarm; as one, the murder takes off to tattle to his wife. Phil throws his head back, all glorious mane of sun and storm, and cackles. Benihime has already pierced Sam’s heart, is poisoning him from the inside, a slow death by unstoppable self-mutilation: informing Death would be a mercy. 

Phil folds himself back demurely into his facsimile of a body. In this way, he and Sam share something. He smooths his hair back under his hat, ducks under the doorframe, and gives the workshop a fond little pat on the wall. He’s about ten paces away when the whole thing, outbuildings and all, burst into flame. He’s twenty when he starts to laugh.

He’s forty when he starts to cry.

[nekrophoria]

Oc Deep Dive Questionaire - Mel

Thanks for the tag @nocturnalazure @drawing-way-outside-the-lines and @bool-prop💙

Under the cut, cuz long.

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

He's afraid of horses. I'd say in his case it's a legitimate phobia, they freak him out like nothing else. He's also low key scared of water, especially calm lakes and water surfaces. They make him uncomfortable.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People who interrupt others or talk over others, that always bugged the hell out of him in school.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

His plushie fox, Cory, a notebook and his violin, that he keeps dragging around with him for some reason despite not playing anymore.

What do they notice first in a person?

The voice, he's got the habit to only half look at people he doesn't know well so it's the main thing he notices about em.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Depends on how you define pain tolerance. He personally feels like his tolerance is way lower than average At least it used to be. He would cry a lot as a kid whenever he got physically hurt. Way more than most other kids his age. By now he feels like he's at least fairly good at hiding when he's in pain. And his pain tolerance is quite high when it's pain he can control, like self inflicted pain.

I'd say it's a 6,5 for the most part

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Flight for the most part

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

He doesn't really have much of a family left, his mother is dead, his presumed father left when he was young, and he never met any of his extended family on either side.

The people he considers family are Serena, Roy and Roland, although those relationships are...complicated for him as well.

I don't think he values family quite as much as the average person, found family or not  doesn't make that much of a difference to him in that case.

What animal represents them best?

I'd like to say a fox, cuz it's his favourite animal and kinda tied to him story wise, however deep down I know the animal that represents him best is this fucker:

The Aye-aye.

What is a smell that they dislike?

Disinfectant. Long story short after his latest trip to the ER, smelling that stuff makes him nauseous as hell.

Have they broken any bones?

Surprisingly not. He's sprained his ankles a couple times though.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

....I've got no fucking clue to be honest.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Let's just say he's more likely to be up late than to wake up at a reasonable time.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

He generally doesn't like earthy flavors, like beets or mushrooms. He loves chocolate, especially mint.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

First reaction in his head: Fuck. Fuck. FUCK

He'd try to play his initial shock off and pretend to be happy about it, although not very convincingly.

Later he'd probably try to get away without anyone noticing.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Technically yes. He just can't be arsed right now.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Guilt, although he can't fully pinpoint why.

And emptiness, plain and simple.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

He likes fur, but preferably fake or on a living, breathing animal.

What kind of accent do they have?

He's got a Teesside accent. Think Jamie Bell with his accent dialed up a bit.

To be fair though his accent can also switch a bit depending on whom he's around. He's pretty good at imitating accents and tends to adapt to people subconsciously.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

More on the messy side i'd say?

Idk, you'll be the judge of that.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Writing accomplished 🥰

"Well, isn't this exciting?" Susurrus said, syrupy glee in his voice that made Bobbi press her lips together so she didn't laugh at him. "Two best buddies, off on a grand adventure!"

"Oh?" Bobbi asked, saccharine sweet with a bite of acid. She fought harder not to laugh and ruin it. "I thought you said we weren't friends."

"I— Well, that is—"

Bobbi's control slipped, and a chuckle snuck out. "Nah, nah, I'm teasing. I'm sorry."

Susurrus laughed, a gentle hum of a sound that barely qualified. "Not even five minutes together and already you are quite a different experience from Frey," he said, and though laughter lingered around the edges, the primary emotions coloring his voice eluded Bobbi.

"Well, we are different people," she pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose that has something to do with it," he shot back, teasing to match hers in his tone. "I admit, I'm quite looking forward to this."

"Really? Huh."

"Oh, don't sound so surprised. Frey is a Tanta; she relies entirely on her magic to survive out here in Athia. You, however, are completely unskilled in combat and survival."

"Hey!" He's right, but rude!

"Oh, it's not necessarily a bad thing! There may be a few advantages to being so woefully ignorant. Especially when you've me to teach you."

Bobbi huffed, not sure if she's laughing (again) or offended. "Because I don't have a whole lot to unlearn?"

"Precisely! You're a blank canvas, as it were. And I am a master of combat and survival. I can teach you everything you need to know. Like when to duck, for instance."

Fur and gold barreled in from the side and knocked her to the ground. Bobbi yelped, more from surprise than pain.

"That was a hint."

"Cute!" Bobbi snarled, and punched the monster in the eye. It got its teeth around her armored arm; she took advantage of that and shoved deeper to wedge its jaw open. Claws raked down her torso, gouged her armor but didn't penetrate. Bobbi maneuvered herself to get her feet into the monster's rib-mouth-guts and shoved.

The Breakbeast flipped onto its back long enough for Bobbi to get to her feet and draw her sword. Susurrus lurked in the back of her awareness, assessing though not judging. Let him; the monster took precedence. She made one step towards it before it got back to its feet, a hissing, garbled roar torn from its warped throat.

"Left," Susurrus warned, calm but urgent enough to draw Bobbi's attention. A glance showed a second beast running in from that direction, but that glance took her eyes off the first too long. A snarl warned her. She gripped her sword in both hands and stepped forward to meet the monster's lunge, dragged the tip of her blade up through fur and gilded bone. Step to the side as the monster sailed by, barely more than nicked. The second barreled through where she'd stood; on instinct Bobbi kicked at it. Knocked off course, it slammed into the first monster, and a short scuffle distracted them as they worked to disentangle from each other.

Both creatures leapt at the same time. Following a silent direction from Susurrus, Bobbi stepped to one side and raised her sword, turned with the creature's leap to slice open its haunch. Without missing a beat, she turned to the second and brought the edge of her blade down on its neck. The severed head fell to the ground and disintegrated with the body as the living creature renewed its attack.

"Use this," Susurrus suggested. Metal slithered over Bobbi's hand to wind around the hilt and blade of her sword. She took Susurrus seriously, and lunged. Gold and steel bit into the beast's side and it let out an ear-piercing scream—and crumbled into dust and embers. Sensation swept along Bobbi's nerves, invigorating and almost pleasant.

"What—" Bobbi gasped. She shook her arm to rid it of the tingles left behind by whatever Susurrus did.

He hummed, satisfaction in the sound. "Just a little trick. How are you feeling?"

"Good," Bobbi said without hesitation. Then she hesitated. "That's weird."

[ficswithtacotuesday]

Angst Prompt: Sunset

“I don’t understand.” Scout really didn’t, which aggravated him because he should understand at this point. He’s been attached to the guy for a few months now, so he should have understood whatever Gus was telling him right now. Even with Gus being some powerful, outer space alien, he should get it by now. “Can… Can you just tell me again?” Gus huffed, which didn’t help Scout’s annoyance with himself.

“I said,” Gus said in a joking but mocking way. His accent thickened a bit as he spoke at a slower-than-needed pace. “This isn’t my true form. This isn’t what I really look like.” Scout stared off while Gus explained himself, towards the cliffs that he usually couldn’t see from the ground. The setting sun covered them in more orange, nearly blending them together with the ground if it weren’t for the pitch black shadows and the now visible sand being swept up from the changing winds.

Scout looked up at him. His black hair was more messed up from the wind, but he never bothered to look after his appearance that much anyway. The sun gave his right side an orange glow, giving his purple checkered shirt an odd color. The left side of him was pitch black, leaving only an outline of what should be there.

“Then,” Scout paused, trying to think of what he should say. This wasn’t the only time he had a serious conversation like this, and seeing as the only serious conversations he had like this were all with Gus, it wasn't very hard moving forward. Gus was like Scout; he wasn’t interested in talking around things, and to just be told directly. “What do you look like?”

Gus hummed. He walked in a small circle before turning towards Scout, a faint frown nearly covered by his beard if it weren’t for the sun. “Lanky. Long, or tall I guess. Real Lanky!” Gus laughed a bit, gesturing to himself. “Like a log!”

Scout looked him over. Gus had a sharp figure. Broad shoulders, strong arms, long legs. His shirt was a lot looser than it needed to be, giving the impression that he had a square torso when it was really more triangular. Scout never judged himself for taking so much detail about his teammates’ figures. He considered himself an artist, and artists take the time to observe and list the right things to get the right details. Gus was looked over the same as everyone else, but that didn’t stop Scout from feeling angry with himself when he listed things about Gus with more detail than he thought needed.

Looking over Gus now, it was hard to see him with the same structure and shape as a tree. He could never see Gus without the lean, muscular figure that his clothes often kept hidden. “Anything else?”

“Well, hairy. Lots of hair. Fur.” Gus said, continuing to walk in small circles. “Almost like a cat, just covered in fur. And completely black. Jet black, pitch.”

“Oh.” The added description didn’t help much. Maybe he’ll try drawing it down, but with the vague description, he doubted he’d get it right on the first try. Maybe the sketches will be of cats with reached-out limbs, trees with fur instead of moss, a figure of Gus with extra hair and a tail. Either way, he’d scribble over them, giving the sketches the pitch black that Gus described. At least he’d have that detail right. “Will I ever get to see this ‘true form’ of yours?”

“No.” Gus replied right away with a shrug. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.” He stopped his pacing, putting his left hand under his chin and grasping at the hairs there, as if his first response was more of an instinct than an answer.

[willowfolksong]

hi hi i'm the one who requested for sakusa reverse comfort. honestly? i reaaally like it, so thank you for your time writing that :') glad to know we're on the same page where we also like when the reader comfort our baes :')

sweet adorable omi, i didn't have any idea or getting a hint that he's actually sick, at all. i feel really bad, he's so quiet while we're lashing out on him :((( and you definitely captured the reader's emotion on point because personally i am, in fact, a very petty person and explodes when i'm already too stressed by letting it out on someone else, then regretting it later on. i think many can also relate to this. once again, thank you thank you!

and psstt- if you have the time for it, can i ask for another reverse comfort with atsumu? got the feeling he's a more sensitive person inside, judging by how he reacts when he knows that kita actually cares for him by giving him foods and drinks when he's sick, and how he almost teared up after hearing kita's small talk on the stairs. ofc you can ignore this aha but once again thank you, i really enjoy your writings, and i'm gonna reread this all over again for today :'D

wishing you a wonderful night/day, and please take care!! <3

promise you'll stay

- Atsumu Miya x Reader

- SFW

a/n: hi again anon!!!! First of all, I'm soooooo glad you enjoy my writings!!! that makes me feel so soft inside 🥺❤ And ugh, I also feel you so much. I'm exactly like you. And like Reader. Stress takes its toll on me and I sometimes end up lashing out on others and acting really petty. I totally relate! Here's also your other request!!! and you're 100% right. Atsumu DOES looks like a softie deep down. for sure would love some comfort. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it 🥺❤ always let me know what you think and I hope you take care as well!!! ❤❤❤✨

Love,

Willow ❄

Requests are open! ❄

You pull your head from under the covers to glance at your window. Nothing happens for a couple of seconds, and then something smacks against it once more.

It looks like something small.

Like a pebble.

It happens again while you're getting up and grabbing your phone as some sort of makeshift weapon, in case you have to fight for your life, because someone's clearly throwing rocks at your window.

You draw the curtains back enough to be able to peek down.

Atsumu waves the flashlight of his phone at you.

"What are you doing?" you ask him, when you leave your room and run down the stairs to open the front door for him "It's 2 a.m"

Your boyfriend shrugs, turning his flashlight off and taking a look at your pajamas "Cute shorts"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Can I come in?"

You gape at him "It's the middle of the night! And I still don't know what you're doing here!"

"I came to see ya, babe" he tells you, smiling "Can ya blame a guy for wantin' to see his girlfriend?"

"At 2 a.m?"

He shrugs again "You're my midnight cravin'"

You realize something is wrong when he follows you to your room, and doesn't immediately plops down on the bed when you close and lock the door behind you. Instead he stands in the middle of the room, awkwardly changing his weight from one foot to another, hands on his pocket.

"What is it?" you ask, sitting down against the head board of your bed "Please don't tell me you made me open the door and bring you to my room at 2 a.m, at risk of being caught by my parents, just so you could stand there"

His gaze snaps back to you, a slow teasing smirk appearing on his lips. But his eyes. His eyes are empty "If ya want me to do somethin' to ya babe, ya only need to ask"

"Atsumu" at the sound of his name, he pauses, smirk frozen in place "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'"

"Please don't lie to me"

That sets him into motion, and he goes to sit beside you, grabbing the stuffed fox he won for you in a fair once from your bedside table. You watch him play with the little plushie's ears, his fingers pulling on the fake fur.

"I just wanted to hang out" he says, without looking at you "Missed ya and all"

You sigh, and ignore him peeking at you from the corner of his eyes as you stand up and stretch your arms above your head.

"Do you want some warm milk and cookies?"

He looks up at you in surprise "What?"

"Some warm milk and some cookies" you repeat "I have those you really like"

"The ones with the white chocolate sprinkles?" he asks, hopeful.

You nod "Those ones"

"Yeah, that sounds great"

The fact that he doesn't follows you down the stairs to loom over you as you prepare everything in the kitchen, only serves to convince you even more that something's definitely wrong with him. When you return to your bedroom, tray in hand, you find him laying down, both hands behind his head on the pillow, eyes on the ceiling.

He sits up as soon as you leave the tray beside him and take a seat too. "Yeah, this are the cookies that I like"

"And I also added some chocolate to your milk, since you think that is 'yucky' without anything in it"

Atsumu looks up to you, eyes wide, before taking his cup in both of his hands "Thanks babe"

"I mean, you did came to my house in the middle of the night. I had to do something"

"Yeah, you're right"

You grab one of the cookies and take a small bite. The chocolate melts in your tongue as you chew, all the time watching your boyfriend stare intently at his chocolate milk, unmoving.

"Hey" he finally says, voice only a whisper "Wanna hear somethin' funny?"

"I guess?"

And then he sniffs, his shaking hands creating little waves on the milk "'Samu doesn't wants to keep playin' volleybal after high school"

You frown, setting your half bitten cookie back on the tray. You knew, somehow, that this would affect Atsumu even more than what he initially let on. "Atsumu..."

"No it's fine! Really. Fuckin' fantastic and all that" he cuts you off "It's not like we've been doin' this together forever or somethin'"

When the first tear falls and dissolves in the milk, you place both of your hands on top of his. "Atsumu, I'm sorry"

He nods, sniffing again, and lets you take the cup away from him. Once you're sure nothing's going to spill, you turn back towards him and open your arms. The speed with which he falls into your embrace warms your heart.

You fill his head with kisses, as your hands sooth his back. He just lets himself be hold, his head buryed in the crook of your neck. "Do ya think I'm bein' pathetic?"

"No, of course not"

"Don't lie to me"

"There's nothing wrong with you being sad about this"

He nods weakly, his arms hugging you even close "Yeah, I guess. Stupid 'Samu"

"But I know you also understand that your brother has his own dream, and that you have to support him in his chase"

"Yeah, I don't know if I want to do that"

You tickle his left side, and watch him try to squirm away from you without letting you go "You don't mean that"

"I just thought... ya know" he says, voice muffled against your skin "That I was always goin' to be able to look at my side and find him there, in the court"

"You'll still see him on the stands"

Your boyfriend snorts, but you don't feel new tears join the wet spot on your neck anymore "Yeah, right. As if that could do somethin'"

He manages to convince you to let him stay the night, using his still red eyes and his pout as a weapon. You comply, after much begging, and make sure the door is locked and your alarm is set by 9 a.m before crawling into bed with him; this time, Atsumu doing the holding. He places his chin on top of your head and plays with the hem of your shirt for a while, his feet interlocking with yours under the sheets.

When you're already dozing off, he speaks again "Hey, babe?"

"Yeah?"

He pauses, and you feel his chest rise and fall against your back "I know ya said 'Samu would always be on the stands..."

"Of course he will"

"But you'll be there too, right?" he asks, and you turn your head to find him staring at you with his most serious expresion.

"Yeah, I will"

"So ya promise I'll always look to the side and find ya cheerin' me on?"

You smile and kiss his nose "Unless you're actively shushing everyone with that thing you do with your arm because you think it makes you look cool, then yeah, sure"

He gasps, bumping his forehead against yours "It does makes me look cool!"

Years later, on his first game with the MSBY Jackals, you sit beside Osamu and proudly watch him serve.

And when his eyes find yours, you both smile.

[katsubiatch]

Distant Shores-2

Summary: The heathens came to raid every year, stealing treasures and killing along the way. Your father was the King of Wessex and wanted to strike a deal with the heathens. The heathens and their ruthless numbers in exchange for some lands to farm, riches... and you. You are the Christian princess that is now to marry the Heathen King, a man that you're sure would rather kill you than marry you. This is going to be a miserable marriage.

A Viking!BakugouxReader fic.

The boat ride back to where the Vikings lived was a long one. As exciting as being on the open water was, to see so much open space it got old quickly. The water would spray at you, soaking you to your bones and causing you to shiver. There also wasn’t much to look at other than the deep blue of the ocean, white fluffy clouds in the sky, the other Viking ships floating nearby. 

You also couldn’t really speak to anyone, you did not know their language at all nor they yours. The only one who seemed to know anything was the man that was to be your husband, however he didn’t seem interested in talking. At least not to you. From what you could tell he was grumpy, rude, unpredictable and overall unpleasant. You wondered why these people followed him, weather or not they had a choice in the matter or not. Back home no matter what anyone thought of your father they had to follow, he was King after all. You weren’t quite sure how it worked here but you couldn’t ask either. 

You huffed, drawing the fur closer around your body, the same one that had been placed on you near the start of your journey. He had to have a nice bone somewhere in his body, right? If he gave you this fur, then again maybe he just hadn’t wanted to hear you complain. It felt like you had been on the sea forever, and there was a constant chill to you that you couldn’t shake. You had no idea how some of these men were shirtless, though you supposed it would be easy to work up a sweat rowing as they did. You hadn’t ever thought of that, that there were people who did such a job. You hadn’t been on one of your fathers ships and even if you had you wouldn’t have seen the men working so hard to row.  One of the men must have noticed your staring because he gestured to you and then to the oar that he was holding, laughing and joking with the men beside him. However you stood up, giving the man a smile. At this point you’d do anything to warm up and help. You felt useless this entire time, the only person who hadn’t taken a turn to row. The man looked shocked at you as you stood up, gently touching the oar. You weren’t quite sure how to do this, that much was obvious but the man did his best to instruct you without actually speaking. You figured you got the gist of it and it only took you a minute or so to get in sync with the other men rowing. You laughed softly to yourself before starting to feel the burn in your arms. This was a workout, but judging by the men near you and their large arms this was something they were used to. A few of the men near you let out little snickers and chuckles, shaking their heads. They hadn’t expected such a prim and proper lady to do such a thing. You on the other hand, found things like this interesting and wanted to try it all. 

It did not last long however until you felt a strong hand wrapping around your upper arm and dragging you up, causing you to drop the oar and gasp slightly. Bakugou was barking angrily at the man that had gotten up from his position while gripping tightly on your arm. You couldn’t understand what he was saying but he sounded angry and you instantly regretted your decision. “It is my fault.. not his.” You managed to get out, your own hand touching Bakugou’s arm.  “Quiet you, you are meant to sit here until we get back.” Bakugou growled as he looked down at you, almost snarling as he deposited you back to where you had originally been seated. You grumbled for a few moments, looking up at Bakugou with narrowed eyes, obviously upset that he had pulled you away from your task. 

The two of you were sharing a very long, intense stare. A few of the men around you admired your braveness and said as much, not that you could understand what they were saying to begin with. Soon a spray of ocean water broke your gaze as it came crashing right next to you and you had to move to get out of it’s way. “You sit here, and do not say anything the rest of the way.” Bakugou grumbled as he moved you to a spot where there wasn’t too much spray and threw another fur over you. 

His mood was hard to understand, he could be somewhat kind as you’d witnessed before, but he was also surly and rude. To be married to someone like that for the rest of your life, always having to guess at what emotion he had and walking on eggshells. That was not something that you wanted to deal with, however you didn’t have much choice in the matter. Running away? Well you were in the middle of the ocean and once you got back to land your odds weren’t much better. In a foreign land where you didn’t speak the language? Yeah that wouldn’t be good. So at this point you were stuck, with no much choice other than to marry a man you didn’t know or love. 

It was a day or so later that seagulls were seen flying above and you saw the men getting excited, so you figured that you must be getting closer to home. Well their home, your new prison. Moments later a small town came into view, huts and longhouses, docks and a beautiful beach. You stayed put where you were however, instead of going to get a closer look. You really didn’t want to anger your future any further. 

Soon the men were docking, women waiting with children at the docks smiling happily and waving at what you presumed were their husbands. They were all so happy to see their families some jumped off the boats before they were properly docked and unloaded. You wondered what it was like, to have such a family. You figured you’d never know. Your parents weren’t exactly the loving type, always more concerned with their country and duty. You smiled at watching them reunite, happy for them. Children climbed on their fathers shoulders, heavily pregnant women eagerly hugged their husbands. 

You were roughly pulled from your seated position, a calloused hand gripping your upper arm tightly and hauling you towards the docks. You did your best to fall into step beside him, tripping over your own feet as his pace was quick. “Keep up.” He grumbled as he looked back angerly at you before stopping once they had got to the red head you often saw Bakugou hanging around with. He was huddled close to a beautiful, bubbly woman holding a a newborn baby wrapped in furs. The two were cooing over the little thing before Bakugou walked over to them.  “Look at how beautiful she is, you really outdid yourself Mina.” 

“Well you had a hand in it as well you know.”  You heard the woman giggle but you had no idea what they were saying so you just stayed put, catching your breath from that walk. Bakugou stayed put, looking down at the baby and you could have sworn you saw a light smile gracing his lips. However whatever was there was gone just as quick.  “She is beautiful.” Bakugou agreed and looked at the two. “Congratulations. A new child is a wonderful thing.” “Who is she?” Mina asked, peeking around Kirishima to get a better look at the woman Bakugou was holding onto so tightly.  “Oh don’t worry about her, I’ll explain later.” Kirishima whispered to her before Bakugou drug her along and she stumbled to keep up. You didn’t dare speak up, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of people you didn’t know. It took a bit but soon you made it to a very big long house where many people seemed to be convening and all were smiling at Bakugou, saying words that you didn’t understand and clapping him on the back. You were sure they were all congratulating and thanking him for a raid well done. You got many curious looks as well, however Bakugou didn’t divulge that information to anyway.  There was a large feast prepared, everyone sat in the great hall laughing and feasting. You were set next to Bakugou, picking at your food because you were just too nervous to do much else. Of course you felt out of place, you didn’t understand any of the conversations going on and the only person who you could speak to seemed much more interested in other things. However a bit after this feast started Bakugou stood up and everyone silenced, even the children were quiet in the presence of their earl.  “We are gathered here to celebrate our great raid!” Bakugou yelled out into the crowd, even if it was quiet he felt the need for such celebration. Everyone yelled out, taking drinks and laughing amongst themselves. “We had a very succesful raid and we shall make it through the winter, if not longer! We did strike a deal with the King of Wessexs. He offered us riches and land in exchange for our army should he need it. We also have his daughter, who I am to marry.” He didn’t say the last part quite happily but it was what it was. He was to marry this girl and that was that. “Now weather or not we uphold our part of the deal is to remain seen. After all if he is going to drag us into a lengthy and pointless war we will not participate, and deal with those repercussions later.” At that the men laughed. “Now eat, drink, celebrate our return and our new riches!” 

You hadn’t understood anything that he’d said but you assumed that it had something to do with being back and some kind of pep talk you were sure. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Although while the men and women drank, celebrated and got a touch too feely with each other than you were used to you awkwardly sat and watched the festivities. Children running and playing, wives draping themselves over their husbands and some doing everything they could to welcome them back, men sitting around and talking with each other. Your husband to be was doing just that, drinking and talking with a few of the other men you’d seen him around often. 

You felt out of place some eyes staring at you and definitely giving you the cold shoulder. You were an outsider, a stranger to their otherwise seemingly close knit unit. Even those who seemed to be servants ignored and moved around you. It had been a very long journey and an even longer night. You felt yourself falling asleep sitting up, while you had no idea where you are supposed to sleep. “Get up.” A gruff voice next to you grumbled and gripped your arm, hauling you up from your seated position. Your eyes opened as you stood and looked up at Bakugou. “You can’t fall asleep at the table. Come.” He commanded as he made his way towards a curtained off area. Once you got past the curtains there was an area with a bed, trunks, spare furs and treasures you hadn’t ever seen before. “You’ll stay here with me, in the bed.” Your eyes went wide at that, having never shared a bed with a man before. However you supposed that this man was going to be your husband.  You nodded before looking around the room and noticing that your one trunk wasn’t here, “Your things are not here... you can sleep in this.” Bakugou threw one of his tunics at you, and while it would be big on you it certainly wasn’t what you were used to and you’d be showing more than you were comfortable with. “I’ll turn around.” He rolled his eyes, grumbling and turning around. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, although you knew that he would see it all soon enough you were grateful that he would at least give you this until that day came. 

Days came and went, and most of them would have been spent alone had Bakugou not been so generous as to allow one of his men to escourt you around, it helped that he was also fluent in your language. He had joined the Vikings on one of their raids last summer and while some of the men still didn’t trust him he was loyal to them. His name was Shoto Todoroki and he was quiet but kind. He would translate conversations for you, although most of them held no interest for you however some did involve you and most of the women around were upset that you were taking Bakugou. However you weren’t exactly taking him, you’d been forced into this marriage just as much as he had. You also didn’t think that he’d been too interested in the women either. 

No one wanted to speak to you, and it was lonely although you did have Shoto but there were times that he had other things to do and you didn’t want him to have to hang out with you all day. He was sweet and kind however and much more of a conversationalist than Bakugou. You would get occasional grunts and commands when you were together but that wasn’t often. He was always busy and kept you under watch whenever he was gone. 

A week had gone by since you’d been in the Viking lands and it was time for your wedding. It had been planned quickly and all the traditions were so different from your own. The wedding was on a Friday, because it was Friggas day and she was the Goddess of marriage, love and fertility according to Shoto. You’d bathed in a bath house with Bakugous mother, Mitsuki, to wash away your status as a Maidan. It was usually done with married women of your family however none of your family was here so different arrangements were made. You quite liked Bakugous mother, she was not quite as brash and rude as her son but you saw where he got his personality from. 

After your bath your hair was braided and ornaments were placed in it, another tradition you were not familiar with. You were dressed in a blue gown that had been made specifically for this wedding, it was simple as you’d been told your hair was more important than the actual dress. You’d picked up on a few words here and there, as well as Shoto had been teaching you some things. Especially what to say during the wedding, which was something you’d been nervous of. 

Once the actual wedding started you were feeling nervous, walking down that long way towards Bakugous back, seeing him wearing his best furs and clothes. During the ceremony you did your best to pay attention, although you didn’t understand everything and just went along with what was happening. Exchanging rings, swords-which was strange for you-and a very chaste, first, kiss. Bakugou looked indifferent the entire time, and you felt much the same. You hadn’t gotten to know him since you’d been here, he was always off working with his people or solving their problems. 

There was a large feast held afterwards with plenty of mead flowing and while you hadn’t ever tried the stuff before you decided why not, after all you had no idea what was to become of your wedding night but you had a feeling Bakugou was going to expect something. Where you came from no one spoke of it, however a few cheeky maids had let you in on the secret of losing your maidenhood. You were nervous but figured some liquid courage could help. You sputtered and choked at first, to which your now husband laughed at you for. “Didn’t expect you to want to drink.” He laughed, the mead loosening his tongue a bit. It was the most that he’d spoken to you in days.  “If I am supposed to be your wife maybe I should act like a Viking.” That got another laugh out of your husband who shook his head. This feast was quite a bit like allthe others every night but this one was bigger than the rest and there was much more alcohol flowing through it. 

The night dragged on and soon enough you found yourself in Bakugous large bed, naked and surrounded by furs. He could tell you were nervous and so he took his time. Working you up, only to have you crashing down with such a force that you couldn’t explain. The maids might have told you about losing your maidenhood however they hadn’t spoke to it feeling like this. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore he proved you wrong. You didn’t think that it could feel like this, nor did you think Bakugou could be so gentle and nice. At the end of it you could hardly keep your eyes open and Bakugou cleaned you up and dressed you, covering you up with furs. He might not have wanted this marriage but he wasn’t going to be the biggest asshole in the world. At least not tonight. 

A/N: I did my best to add in viking wedding traditions although it was a little hard because a lot of them involved thins with family and obviously reader does not have family here! Yes I decided to put Kirishima and Mina together, idk why it just seems like a good pairing to me and I’ve seen it in quite a few fics as well! Mina is also a warrior but she stayed behind because she was still pregnant at the time of the raid starting. Also when things are in italics that is when they are speaking the Viking language. Also I am not adding smut in because I can’t control if a minor is going to read this or not plus I am not good at writing it anyway haha. This got a little dry and boring in the middle, I apologize but The next part will start to get a little more angsty and juicy so I hope you’re ready!!

TagList

naiomiwinchester  wannabe99now  @whore-for-anime  moshi-moshi-angie015  ojfugk  angie-1306

[robininthelabyrinth]

Lan zhan was trasformed into a dog during a nighthunt and now wwx has to find a solution.

He's distraugh, terrorized, but that's Lan zhan, his husband, the love of his life, he would never hurt him, but even knowing all that his mind is still irrationally screaming at him to run, that it's not safe.

And he feels stupid, his husband is the one cursed, and he can't comfort him, he's so selfish for him to need comfort right now.

Other people don't understand this, they'd ask him why is he being so difficult, why couldn't he try to behave normally.

Just people realising how hard Is for him and not using It as a comic relief would be awesome.

Maybe an external pov? Whatever you'll do will be awesome anyway <3

sequel to this fic (LWJ turned into a puppy)

“Oh, fuck off,” Jiang Cheng shouted, and Wei Wuxian, sitting on his bed and still shaking, lifted his head like a dog that just caught an enticing scent.

Probably not the best metaphor to use at the moment. Or at all, really.

Either way, Jiang Cheng was angry at someone, and that was usually a pretty good distraction from, well, just about anything. At least, it had been when they were younger, but that was because Jiang Cheng being angry was usually the prelude to Jiang Cheng doing something stupid which was, in turn, the prelude for a whole bunch of trouble.

Wei Wuxian could use some trouble to distract himself with.

Though – now that he thought about it, he couldn’t quite figure out why Jiang Cheng was doing here, in the Cloud Recesses, much less why he was angry.

He inched towards to the door to try to hear the voices, that had dropped down to a murmur.

“It’s none of your fucking business, that’s what it is,” Jiang Cheng was saying, very rudely. “How long did Hanguang-jun manage without him? He’s not dead or even injured. Temporarily inconvenienced at best.”

Wei Wuxian flinched.

Right.

They were talking about – that.

It wasn’t Lan Wangji’s fault that the water had turned him into a dog. It wasn’t even his fault for getting into it at all; he’d been against it entirely, with Wei Wuxian pushing to try it out – he’d only been indulgent as he always was, loving and cherishing Wei Wuxian too much. If anything, it could be argued that it served Wei Wuxian right for what had come out of there.

(Large and covered in shaggy fur, with wickedly large teeth to bite and strong legs to give chase, pointed snout and ears to better uncover any place he might hide -)

He’d fled, of course. Right back to the jingshi, and as he’d expected Lan Wangji had been considerate enough not to follow him – except the effects of the pool apparently took some time to wear off, and it might be days before…

He’d promised Lan Wangji every day. He hadn’t meant to break his word so quickly.

But he just couldn’t.

Obviously that was what was being discussed outside: how Wei Wuxian ought to be comforting his husband, who’d had his very humanity snatched away from him, rather than huddling inside their shared home; how it was ridiculous for him to be afraid when it wasn’t even a real dog, it was Lan Wangji, who would never harm him.

How he was just being stupid –

“It’s not stupid!” Jiang Cheng bellowed, almost as if he’d heard Wei Wuxian’s thoughts. “Are you completely brainless? Has Teacher Lan decided to give up on teaching anything useful? It doesn’t have to make sense! Fear doesn’t make sense!”

“But –” Some very brave and very unfortunate person decided to try to speak. “To have courage is to overcome your fears –”

“You’re a grown man, what do you know?” Jiang Cheng sneered. “It’s easy to speak of courage when you’re tall and strong, and hard when you’re small and weak – the injuries of childhood are the deepest and most lasting, just as memories are the most visceral when they are from the days when you didn’t know how to hold yourself separate. Do you really think the Yiling Patriarch is a coward? Do you not remember what he did for you, for all of you, at the Burial Mounds, using his own life to draw away the threat?”

Silence.

“So what if he’s afraid of dogs?” Jiang Cheng continued. “That’s his business, not yours!”

A familiar crackle – Zidian being unfurled.

“Anyone who wants to make something of it can come consult with me first!”

Footsteps, retreating rapidly, and then a very familiar tread, heading his way – Wei Wuxian pulled away from the door just moments before Jiang Cheng yanked it open, face red with irritation.

“The people here are stupid,” he told Wei Wuxian without any greeting. “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“Habit,” Wei Wuxian said on automatic, and then pasted on a grin, though judging from Jiang Cheng’s expression he wasn’t doing a good job of it. “Anyway, aren’t you being hypocritical? You were the one who used Fairy against me…”

“That was because I was trying to torture you!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, as if that was somehow a defense. “I wasn’t disrespecting you over it!”

…oddly enough, that did make Wei Wuxian feel better.

“Why are you here, anyway?” he asked, and Jiang Cheng shot him a look as if he was stupid. “For me?”

“Idiot,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Of course I’m here for you. Didn’t I say I’d protect you from them?”

He’d been very small at the time. Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought he’d remembered.

“Not that you care. I ought to have adopted a dozen dogs, it would’ve served you right…”

Jiang Cheng hadn’t adopted a single dog in the entire time Wei Wuxian had been dead. Even Fairy, Jin Ling’s beloved husky, had been a gift from Jin Guangyao, not Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian abruptly felt warm.

“You’re not here to bully me into seeing Lan Zhan, are you?” he asked.

“Of course not! Like I want to spend any more time with that ice block than I need to!”

“Xichen-da-ge says he’s very adorable right now. All fuzzy pointy ears and big waving tail,” Wei Wuxian said, because he might be mortally afraid of dogs but tormenting his shidi was always the number one priority. “Like a poof ball, he says. And soft!”

Jiang Cheng visibly wavered.

“Shut up,” he said.

“You’d probably try to stick your face into his belly –”

“Hanguang-jun? Never! Not even if he was the softest, fluffiest, warmest, cutest…what was I saying?”

Wei Wuxian started giggling uncontrollably.

Yes, he thought happily: Jiang Cheng’s trouble really was the best sort of distraction.

[iam93percentstardust]

Prompt: Stony, animal transformation

I realized about halfway through writing this that you probably meant a spell or something but I wrote shifters instead and I really liked what I had so I kept going. Sorry it’s a lot crackier than you were probably expecting; you can blame @maguna-stxrk for that

As always, everything I write is also available on ao3

~

“No.”

The first time Tony met Steve Rogers, he was both delighted and irritated. Delighted because hey! Captain America is another cat shifter! And that means that Howard was wrong and Tony is, in fact, like Captain America (in some ways at least; in others, that remains to be proven).

“I won’t do it.”

And irritated because Captain America is another cat shifter.

“You can’t make me.”

Tony knows that there are cat shifters out there who are perfectly friendly and like being around other cats. He is not one of them. There are multiple reasons why he and Steve clashed on the helicarrier and only one of them is Loki’s staff. Tony’s breed is highly territorial and everything in his tower is his and he doesn’t want another cat in there rubbing up against his stuff. But there Fury is, insisting that the entire team move into the tower.

“I don’t want them there,” Tony says flatly. That’s not entirely true. He doesn’t really want any of them there but he’s willing to put up with them. The only one he really truly genuinely doesn’t want there is Steve.

It’s probably a good thing none of the rest of the team is here to hear him complaining about them. But, well, they should know better than to expect friendliness out of him. He’s not friendly. He’s majestic and aloof and not in the mood to have anyone else around to see him when he’s not being majestic and aloof.

Fury eyes him. Tony doesn’t know what kind of shifter he is—he keeps that kind of paperwork on actual paper, ew—but he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s something sneaky and devious like Fury himself (probably a snake. Tony hates snakes).

“Stark, the ways I could make you do what I want—”

“—are all against the Geneva Convention,” Tony finishes smoothly. In his reflection on the table, he realizes that the tuft of hair behind his ear isn’t lying flat. He licks the back of his hand and reaches up to smooth the hairs back down.

“Stark.”

“Fury.”

“We are running out of options—”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“—for Clint.”

Tony shuts up. Sighs. Glances through the window of the conference room where he can see Clint leaning against the wall, stuck in partial shift since Loki and the invasion. His golden tail is tucked between his legs, his ears are drooped, and he flinches like a kicked puppy (not an inaccurate description) every time someone walks by.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

“People don’t want him on the helicarrier,” Fury says. “He makes them nervous. His pack bonds were broken when Loki took him, and with Coulson—well.”

Yeah, that. Dog shifters like Clint rely on pack bonds, even those formed between non-dogs. Tony’s always been more of a loner so he can’t really imagine what Clint is going through but judging by the way Clint looks, he can guess it isn’t easy.

“They’ve all been briefed on what it’s like living with a cat, even Rogers, and they know about your idiosyncrasies in particular.”

And that’s the crux of the matter. “I don’t want him there,” Tony says quietly.

“He’s not the same breed—”

“But he’s got the same instincts!” He sighs frustratedly and almost runs his hand through his hair before he realizes how much that’ll mess up his hairstyle. His tail lashes agitatedly behind him, instincts urging him to claw, to bite, to protect his home from the invader. “Why can’t it just be Clint?”

“Because where Clint goes, Natasha goes. Besides, Clint needs the pack bonds, which means he needs the whole team.”

Tony hisses, crosses his arms, pouts. “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I don’t like it.”

And then, before Fury can feel too smug in his victory, he keeps aggressive eye contact and knocks Fury’s water glass off the table, darting away before he can hear more than the bellow of rage.

 ~

“I don’t want you here,” Tony says, ears laced back irritably. It’s the first time he’s come across Steve in the tower so far and of course the man (well, actually he’s shifted into his cat form right now) is lying in Tony’s favorite sunbeam. The nerve of some people.

The single eye that Tony can see slits open and stares at him for a long moment. In the next moment, a ripple comes over the cat and then Steve has partially shifted back, stretching lazily as he yawns. “Okay, Tony,” he agrees.

“You’re in my sunbeam.”

“Okay, Tony.”

“I want you out of it.”

“But it’s such a nice sunbeam.”

“It’s mine.”

“We could share it.”

Tony lets out an offended yowl. They can’t share it. That would defeat the purpose of it being his. Steve stares at him for a long moment and then stretches again, muscles rippling in interesting ways that make Tony want to knead them for—no. No kneading. No accepting the interloper.

“Come on, Tony. It’s sunny and I want to nap. We can share the sunbeam,” Steve says around another yawn before flopping over onto his side, still mostly human. Tony wants to bite his tail. But… he does want a nap. And this is favorite sunbeam. And he shouldn’t have to find another one since there’s no way Steve will be leaving this one (sadly Tony has not yet figured out the right strength the armor needs to move him).

He carefully lays down, putting several inches of space between him and Steve. Almost immediately, he can feel the effects of the warm sun on him, pulling him under into a light doze. It’s not enough to fall asleep entirely, not when he can still feel Steve at his front but then Steve starts to purr and oh, that’s kind of nice. He hesitantly lets out an answering purr of his own. Steve’s rumble grows louder and almost without meaning to, Tony finds his hands kneading the ground contentedly.

~

But that won’t stand. It can’t stand. He conceded ground on the sunbeam because it and Steve were warm and that was clearly a mistake because now Steve is standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee from Tony’s favorite coffeepot out of Tony’s favorite mug as he talks to Natasha.

And this injustice cannot stand!

“Mine,” he hisses, fingers shifting into extended claws, ready to tear into Steve for daring to drink from what clearly belongs to Tony.

At his hiss, Natasha’s skin ripples until she’s scaly and blending in with the cabinets. Smart of her to stay out of his way. Few things are worse than a territorial cat and even someone as lethal as Natasha would hesitate to face him when he’s like this, even though Steve gives her an amused look and says, “Really?”

Steve takes another sip out of the mug. Tony’s hiss turns into a full-throated growl. “Tony, you have to learn to share.”

“No.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Mine.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Steve doesn’t sound very impressed. Or even particularly intimidated, damn it.

“It’s my mug, it’s my favorite mug, you have to give it back,” Tony says, eyes tracking the mug as Steve lifts it to his lips again—wow, they looked kind of pink and pretty in the morning—no, focus. “Give it.”

“Alright,” Steve says agreeably and holds the mug out. “Here you go.”

Tony’s tail lashes and he hisses again. “You know I don’t like to be handed things.”

“Oh right,” Steve says, sounding remarkably unconcerned. “Too bad then. Guess you’re not getting your mug back.” He takes another sip from the mug—Tony’s mug.

“No,” Tony whines, drawing the word out so that it has at least eight additional syllables. He flops over onto the kitchen table, rolling around mostly so that he’s treating this situation with the hysteria it deserves but also so that he can scent mark the table, which currently smells of the rest of the team and not like him.

“Tony, stop being overdramatic,” Natasha orders, apparently deciding that she doesn’t need to blend in with the background anymore. “Steve, stop being a shit and give him back his mug.”

“No,” they both say petulantly.

She pulls out one of the many, many knives she keeps on her person. Tony hurriedly rolls off the table. Steve quickly puts the mug down and pulls out another one. Immediately, Tony darts to his mug—all his, no one else’s—and cradles it to his chest.

“That’s better,” Natasha says smugly and stalks out of the kitchen.

Tony waits until she’s gone and Steve has filled his new mug. Then, as Steve busies himself with cooking his breakfast, he slowly, cautiously reaches out and bats Steve’s mug off the counter. He gleefully sprints out of the kitchen to the sound of Steve’s outraged yowls, clutching his own mug close.

~

“Clint says you’ve been working too long,” Steve says, surprising Tony so much all the fur on his tail stands straight up.

“Fuck,” he spits. “I have a heart condition, you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees like the asshole cat he is. “But I don’t think I’m going to give you a heart attack just by sneaking up on you. Not my fault you were in a zone.”

Tony grumbles wordlessly under his breath. It’s true that he’s been in a zone for the last couple hours or so, something that he achieves only through kneading or inventing, but that’s no reason for Clint to be concerned.

“Why do you care if Clint says I’ve been working too long?” he asks. Steve picks up one of his screwdrivers and spins it between his fingers before setting it back down. Tony immediately picks it up as well and rubs his cheek on it to cover it in his scent again. Steve shoots him a mischievous grin and promptly moves further away to do the same thing to a different screwdriver. Tony resigns himself to losing another couple of hours to scent marking everything once Steve is gone.

“I don’t,” Steve says, now rubbing up against one of the armors (and no, Tony is not thinking about how good Steve looks like that). “I thought we were doing a great job of ignoring each other. But he says it’s been more than twenty-four hours, which means it’s time for a break.”

“Says who?”

“Pepper, apparently.”

Tony winces. Okay, yeah, he can ignore pretty much everyone except for Pepper. She’s important.

“So you’re… what, here to drag me upstairs for dinner?”

Steve shakes his head and holds up a bag in his hand. “Thought I’d offer to split a bag of catnip with you.”

Huh.

“Huh,” Tony says out loud. He eyes it suspiciously. “It’s not laced with anything else, is it? You’re not going to take me to knock me out and take me to Medical.”

“Just pure catnip.” Steve opens the bag and Tony’s eyes dilate at the intoxicating scent. “Why, do you need to go to Medical?”

Tony thinks of the two cracked ribs he suffered during the battle yesterday that he’d wrapped himself. “Nope,” he says blithely. Steve’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t argue. “Are you going to judge me for straight up eating it?”

“Are you going to judge me for doing the same?”

“Fair,” he says and holds out a hand for the bag. Steve upends it and dumps half in Tony’s hand, watching without judgment as Tony stuffs half of it into his mouth.

And when Tony comes back from his catnip-induced high to finds himself fully shifted, Steve’s own shifted form wrapped so tightly around him that his short tabby fur is mingling with Tony’s longer white fur, there’s no judgment there either, just Steve purring and purring and purring.

~

“Why do you do it?” Tony quietly asks Steve one night. Some animated movie is playing on the screen but Tony doesn’t think anyone is actually paying attention to it. The rest of the team is busy sleeping together in a cuddle pile in their shifted forms, Clint’s golden retriever spooned by Thor’s panda, Bruce’s owl perched on top of Clint with his head tucked under his wing. He can’t spot Natasha’s chameleon but he can smell her so he knows she’s there somewhere. He and Steve are sitting apart from the rest of the team, studiously ignoring them. It had surprised him when Steve hadn’t gotten down there to join them—tabbies tend to be more social than other cats—and instead chosen to curl up next to him on the couch in his partial shift, but to his shock, he isn’t complaining about it.

Idly, Steve twines his tail around Tony’s twitching one and purrs, relaxing him until he’s a puddle on the couch. “Nat said it was a good way to get your attention.”

“What, picking a fight with me?”

“Tony.” Steve gives him a long look and then leans over to lick his ear. It should make Tony stiffen, run away, groom over that one spot until he no longer smells of Steve anymore. It doesn’t. It just makes his ear flick curiously. “I never wanted to fight with you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly, Tony’s brain is sifting through every interaction he and Steve have ever had, looking at them in a new light. Okay, and yeah, now that he’s thinking about it, he can see that this has all been Steve’s clumsy, well-intended attempt at courting him. And maybe he’s never really thought about Steve like that before but he’s thinking now and what he’s thinking is that when Steve isn’t stealing his things and laying in his favorite sunbeam, he actually really likes Steve.

“You’re not very good at this,” he informs Steve.

“Yeah, I’m getting that impression.”

“Natasha gave you bad advice.”

“I’m pretty sure she did it on purpose to stir up trouble.”

“She’s worse than either of us,” Tony agrees. “Now, hold still.”

“Wha—” He leans over Steve and licks at his ear, carefully grooming him. Steve purrs beneath him, eyes half-closed with pleasure. Tony’s own eyes drift shut as his heart beats a rhythm to the tune of mine, mine, mine.

~

“Hey, babe,” Tony says, coming up behind Steve. He drapes himself across Steve’s shoulders like the affectionate cat he is, giving a very sharp grin to the young socialite who has been holding onto Steve’s hand for the last minute. Doesn’t she know that that’s Tony’s? “I was wondering where you got off to.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve replies, relaxing now that Tony is here. “Got stopped by Miss—I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Tony knows Steve well enough to know that that’s absolutely not the case. He’s just saying it to irritate her. But she doesn’t know that, especially because none of them are allowed to be in partial shift for tonight’s gala—Fury’s orders—and Steve’s shifter form is a closely guarded secret. So she doesn’t know that Steve’s just following his instincts as a cat. Tony does though, and he smothers his laugh in Steve’s shoulder.

“Whithers,” the girl says, irritation bleeding into her tone.

“Pleasure,” Tony says, making no attempt to hide the fact that he thinks it’s the opposite. He twines himself around Steve so that he can reach his lips for a quick kiss. “If you don’t mind, I have to borrow Steve here. Although, I really don’t care even if you do mind. See, he’s mine and I don’t really like it when people touch what’s mine.”

And then, before her face can do much more than register shock, he bats her champagne glass out of her hand.

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - travel through the emotions with tears

(inspired by this lovely anon)

Tears of sorrow and pain

Raya is so young when she loses her mother, that the concept of death is difficult for her to understand. The reality doesn't strike her until bedtime, when she slowly begins to realize that Ma will never again be there to sing her a lullaby, or hug her fear of the monsters away. Benja is unable to stop the tears for hours, as Raya screams and cries and hits her small fists on the bed. Finally, she upsets herself so much she throws up, and her crying trails off to quiet whimpers instead. For months afterwards, Benja and Raya both dread bedtime, for this is when sorrow hits the hardest for her.

Namaari is nine when her Ba dies. Death is not an unknown concept for her, unfortunately. She has already begun to see its cold grasp ensnaring Fang citizens as famine begins to sweep the lands. But nothing can prepare her for the news the young soldier delivers of her Ba's accident, nor the expression on Ma's face when they both realize he won't be coming home. She doesn't cry for the first week after his death, and people whisper about how stoic and brave she's being. In reality, she is too shocked and numb to demonstrate any further emotions, until one night she awakens to find Ma has crawled into bed next to her, hugging her close in her sleep. Hot tears fall down her cheek, and she burrows into her mother's embrace as she cries silently.

After the Druun return, after she loses her Ba, Raya finds herself scared and all alone in the world, besides faithful Tuk Tuk. During the day, she wraps herself in false bravado, learning how to be a confident young woman instead of an easy mark for people with questionable motives. She employs a 'fake it until she makes it' approach to life, and it carries her through well enough...except at night. At night, she can't help but remember both her parents, and in the darkness she softly sings her mother's lullaby to soothe herself as the tears fall.

When the magnitude of what she has done by trying to take the Dragon Gem hits Namaari, she is horrified with herself. She cries quietly at night for weeks on end, reluctant to talk to anyone about her guilt. And then one day, she wakes up and decides she has no right to cry over it – she should step up and be responsible for her own actions instead, and be the best leader she can be. For several years after that moment, she refuses to let herself cry. Then one scouting mission, she loses her first soldier to the Druun, watching him turn to stone over her shoulder as they flee. She manages to hold it together as she tells his family how brave he had been; then, she goes to the kitchen, stealing as much rice wine as she can carry. She hides with her serlots, drunkenly crying into their soft fur until she can barely breathe. After that, she allows herself to cry sometimes, but only ever when alone.

The first time Raya visits Talon, she is fourteen and half-starving. The market place is loud and confusing, but it’s also full of food and wonderful scents. Unfortunately, she has no jade pieces and the soldiers patrolling the stalls do not seem like people with whom she should risk get into trouble. She almost walks away instead of trying to buy anything, but her stomach cramps just at that moment, and she almost gasps in pain. It breaks her heart, but she slowly hands over a ring of gold in order to buy some food – the only thing she has with her that belonged to her mother. ‘You know, that vendor scammed you,’ a young boy tells her with a snort, as she walks away. ‘You should have gotten far more product for the worth of the ring.’ The food tastes like ashes in her mouth after that, and hot tears slip down her cheeks as she tries to choke down the rest of her dinner.

Namaari’s scouting party is ambushed, not by the Druun, but by angry citizens from Spine. She loses good people that day, watching in horror as they are overwhelmed by Spine’s army, still acting as good soldiers trying to protect their Princess until the end. The last warrior screams at her to run, and even though it is against her instincts, she turns and flees into the forest, not even stopping when a sharp pain pierces her side - an arrow hitting its mark. She collapses some distance later, crying in pain and fear. For the first time, she fears she will die alone, bleeding out amongst the trees. Then she remembers her mother, remembers her duties and the promises she made to herself, and staggers upright. Her serlot finds her as she slowly makes her way forwards, and when she finally manges to crawl onto her back, they take off towards Fang.

‘You’re a traitor to your people,’ someone snaps at Raya, as she tries to mediate between two disagreeing Heart citizens. ‘You try to tell us what to do, but you’re a Princess who doesn’t even know half of her own culture. Too busy cavorting with binturis from Fang and other lands to bother with your own.’ She can feel the tears coming on as the words cut deep into all the fears she has about herself – how she isn’t a good leader, how she lost so many years where she should have learnt about Heart and her role as Princess. A hand lands on her shoulder squeezing gently, yet the voice behind its owner is cutting. ‘Gentlemen, I suggest you leave now before you make me do something I regret,’ Namaari says, and when the men depart angrily, silence falls. Namaari doesn’t say anything at first, drawing Raya into an embrace instead. ‘You’re a better leader than they could hope to be,’ she whispers into Raya’s hair, kissing her head gently. Raya clings to her tightly, arms wrapped around her waist.

‘You’re not welcome here, binturi,’ comes the accusation thrown into her face, and Namaari flinches, much to her own disgust. The celebratory gathering is supposed to be for all the lands to come together, but she can understand Fang not being so warmly welcomed. She is trying though, trying to atone for her mistakes, and after a long day of talking herself into having the confidence to attend, she is now just feeling overwhelmed with their cutting remarks. She simply nods and tries to walk away while hiding her face, but Raya is already pushing past her, getting into the personal space of the other women with a snarl. ‘She’s more welcome here than you currently,’ she growls. Then she spins around, holds out an arm gallantly to Namaari with a smile, and says ‘shall we?’ with a wink. Namaari links their arms, and they walk away with their heads held high.

Tears of laughter and joy

There is something charming and fun in watching Sisu learn more about people and their odd behaviours. Namaari is still slightly in awe of dragons in general, but she finds it easier the more she spends time with Sisu and watches her do ridiculous things. Sisu often brings Tong, Boun and even Noi along to visit Raya, and Namaari loves this time especially, because Raya will go and join in on the fun, laughing at her friends’ antics until tears stream down her face. Namaari sits and watches them with a smile, until Raya runs over and grabs her by the hand, dragging her over to the group.

Raya likes to think she is excellently athletic and nimble on her feet, and to a certain extent this is true. Unfortunately, she has a rather clumsy side to her also, and she spectacularly demonstrates this in front of Namaari by mistake. She is trying to demonstrate how smooth her mounts and dismounts from Tuk Tuk’s saddle are, and even goes so far as to try and show off by standing up on his back. And yet, she slips sideways instead, arms windmilling in the air before she drops onto the floor. ‘Are you alright?’ Namaari calls, and as soon as Raya answers in the affirmative, she can hear a cackle of laughter. Namaari is laughing so hard that there are tears shining in her eyes, and Raya can’t feel too embarrassed by her tumble when it brings Namaari such joy.

At the end of a very long day of Council meetings, Raya wants nothing more than to escape the political grandstanding and disappear into the night instead of staying for dinner. She manages to grab some food from the kitchen before it is even brought out for the guests, and then steals Namaari herself as company. They sit under the stars, enjoying their picnic and complaining about the day. Namaari does a wonderful impersonation of the most annoying Councilor in the meeting, and Raya startles into loud laughter at how realistic it is. Soon they are lying next to each other, giggling loudly until they are both crying from laughter.

Namaari kisses Raya for the first time during a sparring session. They are fighting in a casual manner for once, not trying to be highly competitive as usual, but preferring to shoot as many teasing remarks towards the other as punches, enjoying the moment. Raya manages to pin Namaari down on the ground, leaning forwards slightly to highlight her triumphant and teasing expression, and instead sees Namaari staring up at her with a soft smile. Namaari brings both hands up to slide her fingers through Raya’s hair, drawing her down until their lips are touching softly. Raya feels tears welling up behind her eyes at she feels the love emanating from Namaari.

Raya proposes after two years of dating and several days of angsting over whether she has the correct words to say or the correct proposal gifts. But when it comes to the moment, she forgets everything, and just blurts out ‘I love you. Marry me?’ Namaari stares at her in shock for a moment, before stepping forward to kiss Raya. ‘Yes, yes of course,’ she says, her voice shaking from her emotions. Raya cups her cheeks in both hands, gently wiping away her tears before they kiss again.

When they marry, neither of them can get through their vows without some tears of happiness. No-one judges them for it though – most of their family and friends are crying also.

[eltares]

Obey Me - “Family” - part 6

(I was listening to this song while writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOEAO6D3Jrw)

other parts here

- “.... and then he said that if I were not to meet his expectations, I would be “replaced”. I know what hides behind that word.” Svetlana, as the human introduced herself, laughed nervously while clinging to the cup with hot tea. Her fingers felt frozen to the touch, but color returning to her face indicated that she was starting to feel better. The cat in her lap was vibrating soothingly.

Barbatos nodded his approval. Fear of death would be an excellent motivator for the human to be a diligent student and a hard worker. He could not have thought of a better way to ensure compliance, without actually harming the human.

He placed a plate with bite-sized cakes in front of her. Svetlana reached out and took the dark chocolate cake with cherry topping. “Potentially likes chocolate. Prefers dark over white. Though it might just be a stress response.”. He knew that humans considered sweets to be “comfort-food”, and the human could definitely use some comfort. Being an excellent Royal Butler, Barbatos was collecting information on the new addition to his care in the back of his mind.   

- “So you know, at that moment I could only think about who will take care of Mochi when I’m gone. And then it just hit me, I’m already gone. I’m not in the human world anymore. And Mochi is there all alone. He will die without me. So I told that demon that I need my cat. I’m responsible for my cat’s life and well-being, and the King must know what being responsible means!... I thought he would kill me right there”, Svetlana’s voice broke. Carefully placing the cup on the table, she put her fingers into the cat’s white fur, massaging him gently. The vibration became louder.

Barbatos looked closer at the cat. About 12 years of age, already growing old, and on his 9th life. No wonder the cat was taking things in as a champion. At the dusk of his life, he was focusing on what he considered to be truly important: soothing the human in his care. Demons could wait, as far as the cat named Mochi was concerned.

- “That must have been scary”, Barbatos said, returning his attention to the human. He was impressed. Few souls would be brave enough to demand something in such a situation.

- “Terrifying” her eyes shut, her face carried a broken smile: - “But there is nothing we can do. Mochi depends on me”. 

Barbatos was certainly pleased with the situation. The human seemed reasonable, able to judge the situation correctly, draw conclusions. And motivated to perform. A bit shaken, true, but that would pass.

Svetlana opened her eyes, and looked straight at Barbatos. The anguish in her eyes felt like a blow to Barbatos, who had forgotten to consider her feelings beyond “being motivated”. He has been serving Lord Diavolo for so long, and looking at others from the viewpoint of their usefulness to his Lord, that he had forgotten that other beings did not exist to please the prince. So this was what humans called “professional deformation”

- “Barbatos, can you please take care of Mochi when I am gone?”

Do you really wish to be the villain in everyone’s story?

Barbatos thought how he himself had just been pleased with the human’s reasonableness, and willingness to cooperate. Yet he had not shown the same towards her. Yes, he had taken care of her, but that was not out of kindness, but instead out of care for his master's new toy. But the human… no, royal princess, was not a toy. Sometimes you had to give others your trust and kindness first, before demanding it from them.

- “ Young mistress…” seeing Svetlana’s expression twist at his words, he trailed off and gave her a questioning look: - “Is something wrong? You are a princess of Devildom now”

- “That term has multiple meanings in human culture, some of which I really dislike. I would really prefer to be referred to in some other way, if you insist on being formal with me Barbatos. Though I would really like for us to be able to communicate freely. I… it’s going to sound childish and silly, but I could really use an ally here. If possible, I’d really wish for us to become friends.” 

- “I see. I will consider your request. Would ‘princess’ work for you?”

- “Yes, thank you” Svetlana sighed, but did not comment further. 

- “Very well. Princess, you will have to get used to formal communication and become aware of your new social status. But all of this will be part of your training. Some rules apply within the Castle itself, however this is your home now and I would like you to consider it such. I will point it out if your communication or behavior is unacceptable.  Returning to your earlier question… I’m responsible for your training. There is no need to fear it, you will not be killed in case of failure. If we will ever get to the point where you might anger the King, I will return both you and Mochi back to the human world. I will, however, wipe your memories. In return, I ask you to do everything you possibly can to become a proper princess.”

- “Thank you. I understand the risk you are willing to take, and I will do everything I can to not to let you down Barbatos”

- “Then it’s a deal Princess” Barbatos gave her his gentlest smile: - “now, please leave Mochi behind. We have a very excited prince waiting for his long wished for younger sibling to attend”.

[keorami]

So you know when you wanna write a funny situation but you realise that you have to come up with said funny situation? Yeah... I forgot that my sense of humor is atrocious, but at least I tried...? I couldn't focus on one long story so I decided to write several short ones instead! Hope you enjoy!

"I have the feeling you're not enjoying this sleepover very much."

Dream did not, in fact, enjoy this 'sleepover', because not only did it remind him that his only way out of this hell was stuck in here with him, but said way out had been nothing but insufferable since he got here.

"Is this about the bell-"

"You could have gotten us out of here."

Oh yeah, said way out also wasted their one chance at escaping on a fucking bell. Dream hadn't felt such anger in... he doesn't remember actually. He didn't get to feel angry often in here.

"Listen, it was a very important matter-"

He stopped listening at that point. It was the same tirade every time about clout and viewership and whatever that he honestly could care less about. Staring at and counting the cracks in the obsidian seems like a very interesting activity.

"Hey, are you listening?"

1... 2... 3...

"Dude."

4... 5... 6...

"How long are you gonna ignore me?"

7... 8- wait, didn't he count that one already?

"Look at me at least."

No, he doesn't think he will. Because then the bell will be within view, and Dream knows that if he wasn't so pathetically weak, either the bell or Techno would have been thrown into the lava by now. But he is, so he'll throw the next best thing: his body. And fuck whatever the pig might have to say about it.

"Dreeeeeam-"

"WHAT."

He whipped his head so fast his neck hurt a little. He was fully prepared to... well now he doesn't remember, because of all faces he expected Techno to make...

The fuckboy face wasn't one of them.

"Nooo don't be angry, you're so sexy haha."

Oh God, he just died and went to limbo didn't he?

He wasn't sure when exactly he collapsed on the floor, gasping for air in a mix of wheezes and coughing, but Techno was now hovering over him in panic.

"Dream please don't die, I don't want the last thing you ever saw to have been that face-"

Oh, if there was one thing he would make sure not to forget, it would have been that face.

~~~~~

"Man, I'm starving. When do we get food in here again?"

"Um, I don't know really. I guess whenever Sam is in the mood?"

"What."

"Yeah."

Sam hasn't dropped food a single time since he was locked in here. Well, add 'food' to the basic human rights Dream isn't getting. They're really treating this like a bucket list aren't they?

"It's... You'll get used to it."

Dream gives him some potatoes from his inventory, to Techno's absolute delight. At least Sam has great taste, he'll give him that. But...

"...They're raw."

"Well, obviously."

Listen. He loves potatoes. He'd say he loves them to death, if he could die. No matter how you cook them, they turn out delicious. But raw? He'd only eat them raw if it was a life-or-death situation AND he somehow had no source of heat at his disposal, and the likelihood of that situation happening is practically zero. So yeah, he doesn't like to eat them raw.

"And that's all you get?"

"If you can't eat it-"

Ah, those famous words. Now, he's fairly certain that Dream didn't mean it as a challenge, but at this point Techno is just too competitive to see it any other way. Look, you don't get to his level by being passive, okay? So it's perfectly reasonable.

What wasn't reasonable was the taste of this potato because what in the Blood God's name is this.

"What the hell is this."

"...A potato?"

"No, this is a fucking travesty."

And what a sight it was, the Technoblade swearing and ranting about potatoes, of all things. Dream could only last until "mossy cobblestone tastes better than this dry ass, stinky ass garbage" before he lost it. You gotta give him credit for lasting this long at least. Technoblade was too busy ranting to care either way.

~~~~~

This can't be happening.

"Dream."

"What."

He tries to sound neutral, but Techno can hear the snicker in his voice.

"You don't have to do this."

Surely he can reconsider-

"On the contrary, it has to be done."

Dream places a single card on the pile, which happens to be his last one. A Wild Draw 4, to rub salt into the wound. Techno decides that ending on that card should be illegal.

"Remember the deal. No bell for the rest of the day."

"NOOOOOOO!"

Unfortunately, that had been the condition he had to agree to in order to get Dream to play. Because apparently he was "ringing it all the fucking time and it was driving me crazy". There's that, and the threat that Dream would jump in the lava again if he refused. So clearly he had a choice in the matter.

He knew that there was a chance he could lose... but he had deemed it low enough to ignore it. How could he not expect the resident chessmaster of the SMP to utterly trounce him in UNO? He was a fool, and now he has to think about how to make up for the lost clout and money.

At least, judging from the quiet snickers, someone finds his misery funny. He finds consolation in knowing that he may have lost the battle but he won the war. In a way.

~~~~~

"So I almost got mauled to death but that was how I met Steve."

Dream stares at him the way Phil does when he does something particularly outlandish and he fails to see why.

"Can I ask a question."

"Sure."

"Why would the first thing you do upon running into a starving polar bear be hugging it?"

Of course he would question it, because obviously Techno's superior intellect is confusing to the common mind. He just really likes animals, okay? Steve's fur looked so soft and fluffy he just had to touch it, he almost got his face torn off and Phil never let him live that down. But he'll sooner accept governments than let Dream know that. He doesn't want to embarrass himself too much.

"See Dream, I live by a simple philosophy."

"Long live anarchy?"

"No. Well yes, but not just that."

Dramatic silence.

"Any animal is huggable if you aren't a coward."

Dream chokes on his potato, the only one he had eaten today, and Techno worries for a second before he realises that Dream is actually laughing.

"Tech- what-" His body is shaking. "-what is wrong with you??"

"It all started when I was born-"

~~~~~

And it's enough to send Dream rolling on the ground. It wasn't even that funny, but he supposes that prison does a number on you, and Dream's sense of humor was already terrible to begin with.

...Okay, now he had to make sure that the teletubby didn't laugh himself to death.

At the end of the day- at least Techno assumes it's the end of the day, he doesn't know how trustworthy his internal clock is anymore- the two inmates of Pandora's Vault are about ready to fall asleep, but Techno has one last thing to do before that.

"Dream, come here for a minute."

Said man gives him such a wary look that he almost feels insulted.

"...Why?"

"I won't bite, ya know."

"That's... debatable."

Bruh.

"Just get over here."

And Dream complies without any further complaints. Techno hopes he didn't sound too harsh, but his cellmate wasn't shivering uncontrollably, so he thinks he's in the clear.

"What?"

Techno lays his cape down on the very uncomfortable obsidian floor. Seriously, laying down for an hour is enough to make his joints ache. 0/10 would not recommend. How did Dream- right, he doesn't have a choice.

"What are you doing?"

"Making this prison less of a living hell. Come lay down."

"...I'm fine."

Why are you being so difficult, Techno wants to ask, even though he can guess the answer. When was the last time anyone did something remotely nice for him without any catch? Especially in here?

"Stop being difficult and sleep with me already."

Silence.

"...Pft."

"You know what I meant."

In his defense, everyone has their moments, and his usually don't happen that often.

"Stop being so difficult and-"

"Just... get over here. My cape is really soft."

"Is that why you wear it all the time?"

"...Among other things."

But mostly because it was really soft.

Dream still seemed apprehensive about the whole thing, and while usually Techno would have respected his wishes and left him be... the sight of his rival curling up in a corner of the cell, obviously trying to not aggravate his injuries as he did, was saddening even to him. Prime, he's really not good at this... but Dream probably definitely needs it.

So he pulls his roommate into a side hug, which is honestly the best he can manage without ruining his image. It's awkward, Dream is way too stiff, and maybe now would be the time to say something before embarrassment kills either or both of them. Something reassuring, comforting to help Dream relax in his presence for example.

"This is gonna be the best sleepover you've ever had."

...But the day he stops relying on humor for any kind of social interaction is the day it'll either stop working or get him killed.

"...This is so stupid."

And today was not that day.

Dream lets out a laugh, shaky but genuine, and relaxes. Techno sees that as a win. Since he's stuck here for a while, might as well make his favorite teletubby's life in here more bearable.

And it's finally over! It only took me... *looks at calendar* ...time is an illusion. Idk if I'm really happy with this, but on the bright side, it's... done? Now I really wanna continue that endersmile fanfic as I got some ideas, hopefully it won't take as long? God I am a writing disaster

Also if you saw any mistakes... no you didn't :)

[lovemeleo]

I would love to see Sirius Remus and Asher going to Nuny's to check up on Jackson and then Asher is all adorable with the cats

Thanks so much for this prompt, anon! I got so excited as soon as I saw it. Get to combine my baby Asher with my favorite Nuny boys. I hope you enjoy it! These characters and their world (except for Asher) belong to the always amazing @lumosinlove. 

If you haven’t read the rest of the Asher Pascal series, here’s the link!

***

“Now remember Ash, just because Uncle Nado doesn’t have the cast anymore doesn’t mean you can jump all over him.” Sirius said, glancing back at his son through the rearview mirror.

Asher nodded, clutching at his Lions stuffie as he stared out the window, “‘Cause he’s still hurtin’.” 

Smiling, Remus reached back to pat the little boy’s foot, “That’s right, bub.” 

Asher had been there for the game when Nado got hurt, and had been worried ever since. They’d already talked to him about how a lot of his family played hockey, and sometimes they got hurt. He had understood that but talking about it is a lot different than seeing it in front of your very eyes. The almost two year old had been itching to visit Jackson, but Sirius and Remus wanted to give him more time to heal up. So Asher video chatted with Nado whenever he could, going on about his day and whatever other things happened to pop into his head. He also gave Kuny drawings and get well cards, as well as one of his favorite stuffed animals to give to Nado until he could visit. Jackson teared up a bit when Kuny brought the gifts home, but he’ll deny it.

Now after two months, today was finally the day. Jackson had gotten his cast off a few days before and the Black-Lupin clan was given the OK to come visit.

Asher was wiggling in his seat as soon as Sirius put the car in park, a new drawing clutched in his hands, “C’monnnn. Time to get out!”

“Alright, let me get my seatbelt off first, jeez.” Remus said with a laugh before he climbed out. As soon as Asher was unbuckled, he made a break for the door but Sirius grabbed him quickly, throwing him over his shoulder. Wild giggles came from Asher as he held onto his daddy, dangling upside down over his back.

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, but it was mostly fond, “Be careful. We don’t need anyone else in casts.” Sirius looked back at him with a smile, blowing the other man a kiss before knocking on the door.

After a brief pause, there was some talking from behind the door before Kuny swung open, “Sorry, I should have asked. Do you have allergies?” 

“Like food allergies?” Sirius asked, his eyebrows furrowed at the strange greeting as he moved Asher onto his hip.

Kuny shook his head as he pushed something behind the door away with his foot, “No, no food. Like animals.”

Then a voice came from inside the house, “Cats. He wants to know if you’re allergic to cats!” Nado yelled. Kuny glanced back, giving him a look.

“You got a cat?” Remus asked, peeking behind Kuny curiously. “And no, we’re not allergic to cats. Asher has a habit of trying to steal them though when we help at the shelter.”

Nodding, Kuny moved back to let them in, “We got cats. And I would steal too.” He said with a grin as he stole Asher from Sirius’s arms, leading them to the living room where Nado was waiting. Asher clung to him happily, his arms wrapping around the giant man’s neck.

Nado grinned, holding Milo up like he was Simba in the Lion King, “Kuny took me to a cat café after I got my cast off, and we ended up getting attached.” He said, bringing the kitten back down so he could nuzzle him back into his neck.

“Uncle Nadooooooooo!” Asher squealed as soon as he saw his other uncle. Kuny set him down next to the couch. “I drew you this picture, it’s got me and you and Uncle Zhenya!”

Carefully taking the drawing, Jackson smiled as he ruffled Asher’s hair, “It’s great, dude. Can’t wait to hang it up.”

Asher smiled big, but his eyes quickly scanned over his Uncle as if to check him over, “You ‘kay?” He asked, looking up from the boot.

“I’m doing much better now. The boot’s a lot more comfy than the cast.” Nado said with a soft smile, pulling Asher onto the couch next to him. Milo peered down at the new little person and started to scamper his way down Nado’s chest. “Seems like Milo wants to meet you.”

Remus leaned forward from his spot on the opposite couch, smiling as the small gray ball of fluff sniffed curiously at Asher, “He’s so cute.”

The kitten nuzzled into Asher’s hand, letting out a soft purr as he made himself comfortable on the small boy’s lap.

“Wait… did you say cats? As in plural?” Sirius asked, glancing around the room.

Kuny nodded, before he got up, “I grab Pumpkin. One second.” He said before heading to their room.

Petting his hand gently down the small kitten’s back, Asher looked up at his dads with a big smile, “He’s so soft. And tiny!”

“Yeah, Milo is the smallest of the bunch. He’s our little guy.” Jackson smiled, gently scratching under the kitten’s chin before he handed Asher one of the toys, it had a long stick with a string attached that had a small fish toy on the end.  “He likes this one. If you just drag it back and forth, he’ll chase it.”

Asher took the toy, trailing the small fish toy back and forth. Milo scampered after it, stumbling a bit as he tried to keep up with the fish toy.

Kuny came out of their bedroom not long after, carrying what looked to be a mass of orange fluff in his arms, “This is my Pumpkin.” He may have been smiling but the entirety of his face was covered by Pumpkin’s fluff.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh as he watched his friend try to sit next to his boyfriend when he very obviously couldn’t see. 

“To the left a bit, babe.” Nado said, a fond smile spreading on his face as he pulled Kuny to sit down next to him before looking at their friends. “He got attached to her so we couldn’t leave her behind.”

Pumpkin let out an indignant meow as Kuny set her down on the floor by his feet, her tail swishing behind her as she made her way to where Sirius and Remus sat.

“You guys know you don’t have to take the cats with you when you visit cat cafes right?” Sirius teased, gently running his fingers through Pumpkin’s soft fur as she brushed against his legs.

Kuny laughed, resting his arm behind Nado as he leaned back into the couch, “They choose us, we just can’t refuse them.” He said, a soft smile spreading on his face.

Shaking his head, Remus reached to pet Pumpkin who had sprawled across Sirius’s lap, “So we leave you guys alone for a couple weeks and come back to you adopting two cats.”

“Three.” 

Their heads whipped up to look at Nado who was smirking, “We got three cats.. And well the last one. It was more like he adopted us.”

Asher looked up from where he was nuzzling into Milo’s fur, “Where’s the other kitty?”

As if he heard them talking about him, Loki let out a loud meow from the kitchen, followed by another long one.

Kuny and Nado sighed, sharing a glance as Kuny got up, “Probably stuck on fridge. Again.” 

“You spoil him, Zhenya. He’s big enough to get down by himself, but he knows you’ll come get him.” Nado said, shaking his head.

Eyebrows furrowed, they watched Kuny wander into the kitchen. Remus could hear soft whispering, but it was in Russian so he had no clue what the man was saying.

Nado looked over at them, “Loki jumps on the fridge if he feels that he’s not getting enough attention from Zhenya. And he stays up there until he comes and gets him.” 

Kuny came back in, followed by a massive cat who was trailing as close to the Russian as possible without stepping on his feet. 

“Jesus Fu-..” Sirius said, cutting himself off with a glance at his son.

Asher’s eyes were wide as he looked at the new cat, “Uncle Nado, you got a jaguar?!”

Laughing, Kuny picked Loki up, cradling him in his arms like a massive furry baby, “No jaguar, Ash. Just big kitty.” The massive cat nuzzled into Kuny’s chest as he sat back on the couch, letting out a loud purr now that he finally had his human’s attention. 

“He’s a maine coon cat actually, they think he’s around one or two years old.” Jackson said, reaching over to scratch at Loki’s head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “So he’s still growing?” He asked as the giant cat stretched out, sprawling across Nado and Kuny’s laps but his eyes were on the newcomers. “I’m feeling vaguely threatened.”

Kuny shook his head, “Nah, Loops, no threat. He's a big cuddle bug. You can pet him, Ash. Let him sniff you.” He said, as the little boy handed Milo off to Nado. 

Asher moved slowly, holding his hand out for Loki to smell his hand. The big cat watched the tiny human curiously, sniffing at his hand before he got up. The tiny human had a small lap but it would have to do. Loki flopped down into Asher’s lap, almost covering him completely as the cat let out a loud purr. Asher’s face lit up as he looked between his parents and his uncles.

“He likes me!” Asher said happily as Loki curled up, nuzzling up into the little boy’s neck. Remus couldn’t help himself as he pulled out his phone, snapping pictures of Asher and Loki. 

Smiling, Nado set Milo back onto his shoulder, “Well, I’m not surprised he likes you, dude. Loki’s a good judge of character.” Asher held the giant cat closer, his massive grin partially hidden in Loki’s fur.

Sirius couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he saw the happiness on Asher’s face, “Dammit… now we’re gonna have to get a cat.”

Letting out a laugh, Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’s head. He couldn’t even disagree at this point.

Guess they should start looking at shelters. 

[ihearthes]

Title: Savasana

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Fluff Word Count: 3786 Inspired by: Anon

In which Harry falls asleep in yoga class...

“Hey, Boss Lady,” Trent roars as he approaches the counter. “Looks like business is booming.” He guffaws at his own joke. So far about six people have arrived for the session I’m leading in a few minutes. Far fewer than I hoped. Furgie, my Australian Shepherd, dances around my legs until I pet him on his head which is a signal to him to rest, and he jogs to his dog bed in the corner of the front shop, his chain and dog tags jangling as he curls up to rest. 

Taking a deep breath to maintain my calm, I remind myself that Trent has been a loyal employee at Rooted Heart Yoga since I opened the studio two weeks prior. To be honest, he’s the only employee. And the only applicant for the job. 

Trent reminds me of a puppy. You know the kind: bounces around joyfully, oblivious, without regard for others who might be sharing space with him. His blond hair playfully flops over his eyes frequently, causing him to brush his bangs aside with a carelessness I envy. Exactly the kind of guy who should be out on a surfboard catching a wave or performing new feats on a skateboard. Or apparently working at a yoga studio. At my advanced age of 32, I should know not to judge people by their appearance. 

When the soft bell tinkles over the doorway, I find a shy young woman, glancing appreciatively at my 22-year-old assistant. Oh, yes. That’s one reason I keep him around. He’s quite attractive, and both women and men are drawn to him like cicadas to the sound of a lawnmower. Trent is also a walking advertisement for the studio as I gifted him a uniform of multiple shirts featuring the studio’s name and location.

Furgie ambles from his bed towards the girl, sniffing politely. At first, the woman startles, but after reassuring her that the dog is friendly, she buries her hand in Furgie’s soft fur, which appears to soothe her. That’s one of the perks of having my best friend on the premises -- he supports the clients in ways no human can. 

“Hi,” Trent grins at the young woman, and I’m reminded of the main reason he’s still employed. Trent is great with clients of all ages. He makes them feel comfortable and relaxed. Actually, he seems to truly enjoy the company of each person who enters which is why we have a few repeat customers already. Well, Trent’s friendliness and the yoga classes. 

Shit. Please let the yoga classes be part of the draw. 

“Welcome,” I comment. “Thanks for joining us today at the Rooted Heart. Do you need to borrow a mat or towel?” 

Gesturing to her bag, she shakes her head. “I’ve got both, thanks. This class --- it’s vinyasa flow, right?” 

“It is.” My voice is nervous, and I clear my throat. “Were you looking for a different form? This class is more intermediate and advanced, but if you need a beginner class, we do those earlier in the day. And we have a sunrise class, and a prenatal class --” I’m horrified by her horrified look. Shut up! Stop talking! But I can’t. “ -- plus a restorative class after this one. This is our highest intensity session.” Shit. Now I’ve made her think she doesn’t belong in this class. Why am I so awkward? 

I nervously push my glasses up on my nose, even though they haven’t slid down. 

“What she means,” Trent inserts, “is that if you wanted a different class on another day, you should consider coming back for some of our other sessions. Are you registered? We’re offering a special right now. If you buy 10 sessions in advance, you get four free! That’s practically half price.” 

“Oh, um…” the young woman stutters. 

Trent, clearly spying a way forward, jumps in again, “We’ve also got a buy three, get one free bargain! Interested? Or you can just try us out for free today and pay next time? What do you think?”

The ‘free first class deal’ had been in hopes that people would feel guilty for accepting a free session, but many take us up on the offer, so I breathe a sigh of relief when this client shakes her head. 

“May I pay for today’s session?”

“But you get it free,” Trent insists.

“Oh, yes. Well, what about I buy three? How much would that be?” 

“Four sessions would be $30 while 14 sessions would be $100 -- plus tax of course,” my assistant prods, and I am impressed with his tenacity. “It’s an incredible steal. If you only do four sessions, they’re each $7.50, but if you do 14 sessions, they’re a little over $7 each. Like how can you beat that?” 

“I suppose it’s cheaper to do ten sessions.” She’s hesitant, which is when Trent zeroes in for the kill. Or rather, the sale. 

“Do you live nearby? Cause if you do, then it’s absolutely worth it. You could come any day at any time for any session. They’re all included!”

When the young woman agrees, Trent moves to the register, signing her up and providing her with a punch card. Not that the punch card matters much, as we also keep track in the computer. But sometimes customers like having physical evidence of how many sessions they’ve attended and how many they have remaining. 

As he finishes the process, Trent smiles at her. “Shall I show you around the place?” 

Eyes wide, she nods at him, and I exhale loudly as they move away. Furgie settles at my feet, glancing up at me, and I once more pat his head, running my fingers through his luxurious fur. “I know, dude. We’ll get a larger clientele the longer we’re here. I promise. There’s no way I threw away a perfectly fine career as a legal secretary just to fail as a yogi.” Pushing his snout into my hand is the closest I’ll get to agreement from the shepherd. 

Glancing at the clock, I straighten the items on the counter before removing the key from the shelf in preparation for locking the front door. Since Trent joins in on the sessions (a perk of his employment), I always lock the place before we start. Sometimes I wonder how many potential clients we miss with this method, but the ones we have appreciate the quiet during their yoga session.

As my key enters the lock, the door pushes open, bumping into my nose, and I step back in surprise. 

“Oh!” I exclaim. 

“I’m -- I’m sorry,” the gentleman stammers. “I know it’s rude to be late, but I got stopped --” He gestures behind him ineffectively, “Do you want me to come back for the next session?” 

He smiles timidly, and a gorgeous dimple appears. On any day, I never turn away a new client. But there’s no way in hell I would turn away that dimple. He’s stunning even with rough facial hair. 

“No, no!” I protest, welcoming him, “You’re just in time. Would you mind paying afterwards so that we can get started, though?” I allow him inside before shutting and locking the door. Furgie approaches the man, nuzzling his nose under the guy’s tattooed hand. 

“Hi there, buddy,” the gentleman coos as he toes off his shoes, reaching down to pick them up in one hand before searching the space. 

“Shoes and cell phones go over here in the lockers,” I point out. “You’re welcome to set a code for yourself if you’re worried.” I wait while he reads the directions, punching in four digits of his choice before he closes the door on his mobile, shoes, and wallet. In his other hand, he carries a pink bag that clearly contains a pink yoga mat, but I make the offer anyway. “Um, we have mats and towels for rent.”

“Thanks,” he winks, his right lid closing awkwardly, “but I’ve got my own.” Holding out his hand towards what is clearly the studio, he waits for me to enter. Quickly I introduce myself, holding out my hand, to which he murmurs “Harry” as he accepts my hand. 

Upon entering the space, I become all business, turning on the music at the sound system. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for joining us for this vinyasa flow session.”

Surveying the class, I try to surmise the skill level, but it’s hard since only two clients have previously attended. Oh, well. Nothing to lose. Except repeat customers. 

“We’re going to start in a seated position,” I announce, as I model Easy Pose. Next to me, Furgie sits on his own mat. “Now place one hand under your bottom and stretch your neck by turning away from that side.” My Australian Shepherd mimics the move by twisting his head in the same direction. We switch to the other side and breathe deeply through the stretch before moving into a Seated Cat Cow. As we shift through the various poses, I monitor the group while the sunshine of late day Los Angeles bathes them in a warm glow through the floor to ceiling windows that reveal a small garden courtyard between the studio and my home. We glide through variations before moving into Downward Facing Dog with Furgie taking a lead with his version of the famous pose. 

“Tap into your breath,” I remind my clients. “Now let’s move into Sun Salutation. Inhale, growing tall, and we’re going to lengthen into our first flatback.” Watching them, I see everyone able to move fluidly into the Mountain Pose, pleased that they’re able to follow my steps. There’s one client up front who struggles with the High Plank, and I support her into moving into First Cobra. As I return to the front of the class, guiding a few others to straighten their hips or flatten their backs, I notice that Harry, the guy who had entered class last, is lying flat on his back, arms overhead. He’s at the back of the room, so his dissent doesn’t register with the rest of the class. Most participants appear to be moderate to advanced, so they know well enough not to judge the practice of others. 

Unbidden, a stern thought comes to my head, but I refrain from saying it. The poor boy must be exhausted, so I leave him alone, resuming the class with Warrior II. 

As we conclude the session with Savasana, the other clients slowly come to themselves, silently finishing and removing themselves and their mats to the cleaning space outside of the studio.

Trent has positioned himself outside of the class following the session, unlocking the door and then bowing thoughtfully to each participant, inviting them to return in the future. He cleans the borrowed mats, hanging them to dry. I hear his soft voice, and it’s another reminder that, despite his overwhelming exuberance at the beginning of each session, he’s really a good guy who believes in the power of yoga. 

As the studio empties, I notice the late entrant is still lying on his back, face to the ceiling. He appears to be in Savasana, and when I approach, it becomes patently clear that he’s sleeping. My heart breaks for him. What kind of exhaustion makes a person sleep through yoga class? 

Furgie pads over to the sleeping guest, lying flat on his belly next to Harry. It’s a gesture meant to be supportive, and I’m proud of my bestie. He always knows when others need comfort. I wonder what struggles this man is experiencing. 

When Trent has said his farewells to the members of the class, passing along flyers for future classes and discounts, he returns to the studio. Hands on hips, he stares at the figure still lying in corpse pose. 

“What do you think?” he asks me as I sweep the floor in preparation for the final class of the night. 

I shrug. “I don’t know. He’s clearly tired, but he hasn’t yet paid for this class. I suppose I can let him stay through the Restore class.”

The should-be surfer shakes his head, “But it’s my early night. I won’t be here if he wakes up and causes you trouble.”

Folding my arms with the broom handle braced between my breasts and arms, I stare at the handsome man lying flat on his back on the mat. He looks familiar, but I’ve no idea where I’ve seen him before. He’s not a regular at the studio, nor have I seen him at any of the other sessions I’ve attended or taught. Pondering the moment, I sigh. I’m trying to build a practice here. Is this a homeless man who has wandered in a quiet place to rest? Evidence would suggest not as his clothing is expensive, as are his mat and his bag. 

Damn. What to do? 

“Let him sleep,” I announce, startling myself and my assistant. “I’ll wake him before the next session.” Or after, I think, as I ponder how deeply asleep he is. Perhaps he needs the rest? Gently, I lift his head and place a towel there to protect his neck. 

“Right-o,” Trent declares. “I’m off, Boss Lady. See you tomorrow.” Grabbing his bag of personal items, he waves as he exits, leaving me alone with the mysterious tattooed man and only 30 minutes before the next session starts. 

Leaving the music playing, I crouch next to Furgie. “Keep an eye on him, would you? I’m worried about him.” The shepherd licks my hand, a symbol of his agreement with my sentiment. As I walk away, my best friend lays his head on his crossed paws, snuffling as he watches Harry. 

Back at the front desk, I survey the records from the day, reconciling them with the money intake. Thank goodness I still have savings because what we’re making right now is enough to cover Trent’s salary and about half of the rent. Certainly not enough to live on. I remind myself that I’m only two weeks into this venture, and that I never expected to break even until a solid six months in. Still, it’s disheartening. 

“Laura!” I exclaim as one of my repeat clients enters. Sweeping from behind the counter, I wrap her in a light hug. “So happy to have you as part of our Restore again tonight.” 

“Awwww,” the woman blushes. “I adore your Restore sessions. They’re my favorite.” As she turns to the lockers and starts to remove her shoes, I scramble to explain the guy still in corpse pose in the studio. 

“We’re practicing something new tonight,” I tell her. “Um, we’re going to all start in Savasana as a way to monitor our thoughts. When you enter the studio, you’ll see there’s already someone practicing Savasana so just quietly find your spot and do the same. You’ll need some props, so be sure to grab a towel and a block in addition to your mat.”

“That’s unique,” Laura smiles. “I’m always intrigued by the flows you create, so this will be interesting.” 

Over the next several minutes, different clients arrive, and they’re all surprised that we’re starting in Corpse Pose. Can’t say I blame them as it’s never the starting pose, but rather always the ending one. Running through the routine in my head, I logically work out a routine for slow flow vinyasa that will be circular, starting and ending with a variation of the pose. Laura called it ‘unique’, but it feels almost sacrilegious to me. But I don’t know how else to keep the attention of the others from the sleeping man. 

At the start time, I lock the front door once more and pad to the studio in my bare feet. It’s odd walking in to everyone lying supine, but that’s what I had requested. 

“Let’s take a deep cleansing breath,” I encourage at the start of the class. “Slide your arms along the floor to reach over your head as you inhale. Now draw your hands together and into your heart center as you exhale.” The sound of limbs scraping on the wood floor lets me know that they’re participating. With a glance at the guy in back, though, I’m reminded that he’s still sleeping. 

“Now you’re going to wiggle your toes,” I instruct, “and roll over onto your side that feels most open.” Breathing through my directions, I continue, “When you’re ready, push yourself gently into a seated position.” 

Rising, I correct the form of a few clients, including a beginner for whom this is her first class. “Let’s move into Child’s Pose. Bring your knees as wide as is comfortable, big toes touching. Allow your forehead to soften into the mat, and extend the arms straight out in front of you.” Furgie whimpers at the back of the room, likely missing his mat, but he’s made the choice to stay by Harry which reaffirms my decision to let the poor guy sleep. The Australian Shepherd nevertheless models the pose from his spot, and I chuckle under my breath. 

Forty minutes later, as I bring the class to a close, I see the man stir as he awakens. “Let’s move into Reclined Butterfly with the soles of the feet together, knees bent, for one last hip opener. Rest your left palm over the heart and your right palm on your belly. Take a big breath in through the nose. Hold it at the top, and then exhale with a big sigh out through the mouth.” Furgie, lying on his back in his modified Reclined Butterfly, notices that his charge is becoming alert, and he twists his head to catch my eye. I nod at my shepherd.

“Notice the parts of you that are connected to the ground,” I remind the group, “The sides of the feet. The toes. The outside of the legs. Or maybe the back of the legs. The thighs. The hips. The glutes. The low back. Mid back. Feel the shoulder blades sinking into the ground. Feel the arms grow heavy here. Relax the shoulders. Relax the head and neck. Let go of any tension in the face, closing the mouth but parting the teeth.”

Curiously, I watch as the guy follows the directions, bringing his body into the Reclined Butterfly and breathing deeply. 

“Relax the tongue. The cheeks. The jaw. Allow the eyes to become heavy in their sockets. And soften the eyebrows. The space in between the eyebrows. And then feel your body as a whole become soft and relaxed. Feel a sense of ease and grounding. Take a few more breaths here on your own, settling into this feeling. When you’re ready, start to find small movements, waking up the body. Stretching the arms up over the head. Maybe stretch the legs until eventually you roll onto one side of your body in a fetal position.”

Harry follows my softly spoken directions, pausing on his side. My words continue, “Rest here for one moment. Take a breath here. On your next inhale, gently sit up. Right away, bring your hands to heart center and press thumbs to your chest. Reconnect to the sense of being stable and grounded. Bring the thumbs to the forehead; bow your head. Namaste.” 

“Namaste,” members of the group repeat before they gradually and silently finish and rise from their spots, mats in hand. I rush to unlock the front door so they can exit the building before I return to the studio entrance. 

At the cleaning station in the hallway, I am encouraged by how many of the clients promise to return as they clean their own mats, even the borrowed ones. 

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” I declare as yet another new client sprays down the mat she’d borrowed. 

“Happy to clean up after myself. That was a great routine,” she remarks. 

“I feel so grounded and restored,” another comments. 

Pride swells in my chest. This is why I started a yoga studio in the first place. To bring that feeling of peace to others. The kind of peace I only ever got from yoga in my previous stressful role but that I find every hour here at the Rooted Heart. 

As the clients see themselves out and a calm energy flows through the space, I look up as I hear the jingling of Furgie’s dog tags. He steps into the hallway first, leading Harry. Rubbing his hand over his face, the man’s sheepish smile emerges. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to be so disrespectful --”

“Nonsense,” I scold without rancor. “Clearly you needed the sleep.”

“Yes,” he winces, and that dimple appears again when he follows up with a grin, making my knees go weak. “How much do I owe you?” The question comes as he opens his locker and withdraws his wallet. Dropping his shoes to the floor, he squishes his feet into them. His eyes widen as he looks at his phone. “Um, for two sessions apparently.”

I smile at him as I tenderly place a hand on his upper arm, impressed with the muscles there. “You only owe me for sessions in which you actually participate.”

But he’s shaking his head. “No, no. That’s not how it works. I misused your space.” 

“My purpose is that everyone who leaves the Rooted Heart does so with greater peace and harmony than when they entered.”

Running his fingers through his hair, he observes me carefully. “I’m definitely doing that, and I need to thank you. Your studio is exactly what I needed.”

“Then you’ll be back,” I vow, “And that’s when you can pay for an actual class.”

Shaking his head, he squats at the floor, petting Furgie who hasn’t left his side. “Thank you both.” The Australian shepherd licks at his hand, and I know how my best friend feels. There’s something compelling about Harry. Something that draws me to him. 

As he rises, he twists his torso in my direction. “May I at least pay you for your time and space with a hug?” 

Tilting my head, I regard him before I nod and step into his arms. His hug is like a deep, cleansing breath. It envelops me. As he draws me close to his chest, I can feel his steady heartbeat. It’s comforting, and I relax into him. It’s only when Furgie whines that we separate after what feels like hours, days, years, eons. 

“How can a place feel like home after only one brief visit?” He wonders, and my brain echoes his question, relating instead to his hug. Striding to the door, he draws it open. 

“See you again soon,” he whispers with a smile as he exits with a soft wave. “Best Savasana ever.”

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 16)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2694 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 15 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Six weeks. That’s how much notice Bucky gave you until the wedding. You said yes to being his date before you had actually confirmed anything with work. The wedding was on the first Saturday in June but you would need to take off of work that Friday as well.

Technically one day off from Stark Industries wouldn’t be so bad and as predicted you were given the day easily. Unfortunately, you would have to take two days off at Metro-General and you really hoped that would be alright.

You hadn’t taken many days off since you began; a day for when you had food poisoning, another on the day of Wanda’s museum exhibit, but the hospital was a busy place and Elena was notoriously strict. Plus the more days you took off meant the more hours you would have to make up, which meant the longer it would take to fulfill your final requirement before graduating.

Once again, Marya’s words come to mind. Life will not wait for you so you needed to live it in the moment. It’s only two days.

With renewed confidence you knocked on Elena’s door and asked for the days off.

“Vacation?” she wondered.

“It’s for a wedding actually.”

Her dark eyes lit up at your answer. “Oh very nice. Where is it?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Somewhere in Long Island,” you chuckled, explaining that you were asked by a close friend to be his date.

After all these months of working together you realized this was the most personal conversation you’ve ever had with Elena. You had always tried to respect the boundaries of her as your boss but it was surprising as she seemed to open up first, letting down the guard she had carefully built up to protect herself while working in this field. Her approach carried over with her co-workers up until now.

“Mack was a close friend of mine once...” she said, turning the picture frame on her desk around towards you.

The photo showed her in the arms of a medium-brown skinned man with a dark beard and shaved head. Her whole face was smiling as she stared into his eyes and he was looking back at her like she was the only thing that gave meaning to life. Judging by their clothes you realized this was a wedding photo.

“You’re married? Since when?” You may have blurted that out a little bit louder than you expected but it was a bit of a shock considering she doesn’t wear a ring.

“Since I asked him,” she laughed. “Two years now, but we’ve been together for six and friends for a lot longer than that.”

Ahh now you understand what she was implying. “It’s not like that with me and Bucky. Well…” You bit your lip with uncertainty. “I don’t know. We’re friends and we kissed once but he’s dating other people and–”

“Yet he asked you to be his date.” She smirked, giving you a knowing stare.

Elena had given you the days off but part of you wished she didn’t. On the surface, Bucky was just a friend asking another friend for a favor but the more you thought about your history the more conflicted you felt.

From the moment he’s come into your life you’ve felt something towards Bucky. Sure his looks were undeniable but there was so much more about him. The passion he had for music matched what you felt for social work, and you connected, both of you realizing that each field plays an important role in helping people.

The more your friendship grew it felt like you were always meant to be in each other’s lives and you couldn’t imagine life without Bucky since he had become such a huge part of it. But you weren’t anything more than friends. That’s all.

The warm sun shines directly into your eyes as you exit the subway, trying your best to hear Peggy over the increased amount of people on the street. New York was always crowded but warm weather was a magnet that seemed to pull everyone out of their homes, drawing them outdoors to enjoy the beautiful day.

With Wanda on your left the three of you talk plans for Memorial Day weekend; it’s two weeks away and you’re trying to organize something for everyone to do together.

“I’m not sure if Sam has off or not yet but I do have some news,” Wanda said enticingly, biting her lip to contain her excitement. So many thoughts ran through your head as you waited for her to drop the details. “Sam and I are gonna move in together!”

“Oh Wanda, that’s brilliant!” Peggy said, her red painted lips stretching across her face in a beaming smile.

“I’m so happy for you two! When are you moving? And where?” you asked.

“His apartment is bigger so I’m moving there, hopefully by the end of the month but we’ll see. It’s hard with his schedule sometimes but I definitely want to be out as soon as possible.”

You offered assistance to help her pack and Peggy suggested making it a night with girls, with wine as a little motivation. “Yes, perfect!” Wanda agreed.

If only finding a dress for the wedding was as easy as helping Wanda move. You had already made a few trips to the department stores, trying on the perfect dress that fit like a dream and made you look incredible. Unfortunately, it cost more than your rent so it went back on the rack.

Your disappointing trip was made a little better by the promise of your friends to help you which is what you were doing now. One more block to go and you would be at the boutique you’ve never heard of before where Natasha was meeting you.

Opening the doors made you a little concerned. The place looked like it was from another planet. The glossy black ceiling stood in contrast to the bright white walls that were made up of three dimensional geometric tiles.

Silver accented the space from the large framed mirrors that leaned against the walls to the velvet pewter asymmetrically curved couch outside the dressing room. The clothes themselves looked normal at least, dresses of all kinds displayed on racks within silver frames, making them look like they were encased in glass.

Peggy and Wanda spread out to look for dresses, trying to find ones that resembled the overpriced gown you had only taken a selfie of to remember it by. Immediately you were drawn to a rack of flowy pastel colored ones, draping a few different styles over your arm.

In the middle of your search you heard Natasha call your name, and turning around to greet her you didn’t expect to see an unfamiliar face. She stood next to a man that towered over her small frame. A shock of ice blonde hair and matching bleached eyebrows caught your attention first before you moved on to his outfit, a red vest, leather pants and fur coat that seemed to only have one sleeve.

“Y/N, this is Taneleer Tivan, owner of The Tivan Collection,” she whispered the last line in a way as if you were meant to know who he was.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, though his facial expression didn’t change.

Though his eyes were surrounded by a smudge of dark liner you were able to see clearly the way he looked down in disgust at the dresses you held.

“Carina!” he shouted, and a moment later a girl came running forward. She wore a white vinyl dress that looked more like something you expected the store to sell, although her outfit is much more subdued than her boss’s.

She waited in silence with her hands clasped in front of her, in what seemed like a routine she was quite familiar with. “These are all wrong,” Taneleer said to you and suddenly the dresses were being taken out of your hands by his assistant. “I have much better in my collection.”

To your shock Carina was beside you again, ushering you towards a different section of racks that had more appropriate gowns despite neither her or her boss knowing what event you were shopping for. Thinking back, the pastels might have been a bit too casual anyway.

As you perused the new section you found an assortment of beautiful dresses, some absolutely stunning ones that had you worrying about the price. Natasha can certainly afford a lot more than you but glancing down at the tag you were surprised to see how reasonable things were. You took out a few jewel toned ones to try on that caught your eye.

“Y/N, what do you think of these?”

Peggy’s soft voice made you turn around. The first dress she held up was a satin one shoulder gown in black.

“Oh I like the design,” you said, pointing to the ruffles falling from the shoulder.

The next one she held up was a shimmering emerald dress whose classic mermaid style made you feel like you should be going to the Oscars instead of a wedding.

“Peggy, that’s too formal!” Wanda chimed in, huffing as she came over with more than a half dozen sparkly dresses.

She made room on the nearest rack to hang them, excitedly showing each one off to you. The first was a gorgeous sequined dress, rose gold sparkling in the light. It was undeniably beautiful but you had reservations. You were a guest at someone’s wedding and didn’t want to draw too much attention.

“This one is similar but you’ll see the difference,” she added, holding up another rose gold sequined dress, this one with a plunging V-neckline and a low open back.

“Wanda, that’s…” You stopped yourself from saying anything, grimacing uncomfortably at the dress that was so wrong.

“That looks like a slutty prom dress,” Natasha laughed, saying the thoughts you didn’t say aloud.

Wanda scrunched her face at Natasha before continuing with the next set of dresses. They were less eye catching as the others but still in the sparkly realm. You set aside a shimmering off the shoulder dress in turquoise that looked more like the ocean glittering in sunshine. The neckline was still a bit low but the back was more appropriately cut.

Natasha handed you one dress, a stunning red gown of flowing chiffon with a beautifully embellished bodice of lace and beading. The high neck of the dress complimented the tasteful open back design.

“Okay I’m getting overwhelmed. I have to start trying things on.”

With dresses in tow you made your way inside the fitting room and closed the curtain. Natasha sat across from Peggy and Wanda, checking work emails from her phone despite it being Sunday.

“Nat, did you get your wedding dress from here?” Wanda curiously wondered as her eyes roamed the store.

Her lips pursed as she took a deep breath. “I haven’t found a dress yet. I think we might have to push off the wedding again.”

“What was that?” you said, pushing open the curtains.

Peggy’s face lit up with a smile as you stepped out in a purple dress with lace detailing on the bodice. “You look beautiful!”

Your head turned towards the larger mirrors for a second to admire how you looked in the dress before you remembered the muffled conversation you heard through the curtain.

“Wait, Tash, did you say you’re pushing off the wedding again?”

She huffed loudly, leaning over and covering the frustration on her face with her hands. When she finally lifted her head you saw the desperation in her eyes. “I’m ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go to the courthouse.”

With Natasha’s ever increasing workload you’re quite surprised she hasn’t done this already. It doesn’t seem like she and Clint have made any progress since you’ve known them.

“Forget me,” she said, waving her hand as if to push the burdensome thoughts away. “That dress is pretty but there’s no wow factor.”

You looked in the mirror, realizing she was right. The next dress you put on was the red one Natasha picked out and that one definitely wowed but not in a good way. The bodice of the dress had an uneven cut that exposed part of your sides making you feel uncomfortable.

The one shoulder dress Peggy picked out was too tight but even if there was another size you didn’t like the satin. Wanda’s sparkly dress was a maybe but you weren’t completely sold on it yet. After changing in and out of a few more dresses you started to sweat and all you wanted to do was leave.

While hanging the dress you just stepped out of back up you saw there was one more left and your eyes lit up. You don’t remember grabbing this dress but it was meant to be from the moment you slipped it on.

It was a beautiful navy blue gown, with fluttering ruffles down the modest V-neck that also mirrored the back. Compared to some of the others this was a much simpler dress but there was something about it that felt right. It fit like a dream, flattering every part of you while still allowing for movement. Weddings mean dancing and the thought of dancing with Bucky made goosebumps prickle all over your skin.

As you opened the curtain you saw everyone’s jaws drop, their eyes lighting up as you stood in front of them.

“This! This is it!”

“You really think?” you asked, looking over your shoulder to see how it looks from behind.

Peggy nodded her head, “Definitely. It’s perfect.”

“Bucky’s going to love it,” Natasha added.

You rolled your eyes, missing the knowing look the three of them shared. “Guys, this isn’t for Bucky. I want to look good for myself.”

“And you do,” Wanda said, “But he’ll also appreciate how good your ass looks in that, damn!”

Rolling your eyes as they burst out laughing, you admired yourself in the dress a little longer knowing this is the one. You went back into the dressing room with Bucky on your mind. Sure, he might stare at you all night in this dress but the truth is it doesn’t mean much more than that.

Bucky was actively dating and the only reason you’re going with him to the wedding is so he doesn’t spend a weekend with someone he really doesn’t know. Panic washes over you as you worry about the near future. What if he meets someone he really gets along with before the wedding and he resents the fact that he asked you to go. What if he uninvites you? What if–

“Hey I found a really cute clutch to go with the dress,” Wanda said through the curtain.

You finished getting dressed, grabbing the dresses you didn’t want first. Opening the curtain you found Carina waiting beside Wanda, ready to take the dresses from you. You thanked her and took the dress you were buying, holding it up next to the clutch Wanda found. It was glittering gold with a metal trim on the opening.

“Oooh I love it.”

Carina was waiting silently at the register in anticipation of you bringing everything up to pay. As you took care of that Natasha said goodbye to Taneleer, kissing him on both cheeks. You thanked him as well before leaving and his mouth curved into the slightest smile.

Late lunch with the girls went by faster than you expected and you were happy to finally be home, hanging up the dress in your closet. You knew you had shoes that would pair well with it somewhere in your closet, a search meant for another day.

Before bed you decided to text Bucky, even though part of you was hesitant about it. You typed away quickly, sending the text and turning off your phone before he could respond. From the other side of the wall Bucky smiled when he saw a notification with your name.

You: Hope your suit game is good because I just bought my dress and it’s 🔥🔥

He couldn’t wait.

PART 17