#i have returned from falling off the edge of the earth just to share more ninja art

[dragonwithinternetaccess]

These idiots just can't have one normal day

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 4)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: so much time has passed since you last saw each other. will old feelings come up again once you two find each other again?

warnings: HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, this is so against canon its insane, NSFW (we did it guys we're finally here), switch!reader and switch!miguel, blood mention, fang and claws play, p in v unprotected, cumplay, angsty (i couldnt help it), it goes, angst, smut, and then angsty fluff at the end youre welcome

word count: 3.2k

notes: for some reason, it didn't let me tag as many people who wanted to be on the taglist, so if i didn't end up tagging you for the final part, sorry idk what went wrong

also forgive me i was listening to boygenius while writing the parts leading up to the smut so it might get a little angsty there (i cant help it) (miguel and y/n are so bite the hand and cool about it core)

but then i balanced it out by listening to frank ocean (pyramids specifically) while writing the smut so you're welcome

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Three years had passed. Three years since you finally found Miles, defeated The Spot, and caused the collapse of the Spider Society. Everyone had gone back to their separate dimensions, but were able to still visit each other with their still working portal watches. Miles and Gwen specifically were very happy. Peter B. went back home to live with MJ and Mayday, sending you frequent pictures of Mayday to keep you updates. You were different. You didn’t return to your home world. You didn’t necessarily have anyone to return to per se. Instead, you decided to hop between dimensions, seeing what crime there was to fight in cities that didn’t have anyone to protect it. It was enough to keep you occupied, and as long as your watch still worked, you had the option to stop if you wanted to. Life was nice. You finally had found peace.

But something felt off. Something thudding in the back of your head. Because even though you had been at peace for three years, it had also been three years since you saw him. You had seen him during the final showdown between all of Spider Society, but your team had managed to keep you two apart, due to fear for your safety. After the fight was over, you two had made eye contact with each other a couple of times, but never approached each other. If you were being honest, you were still scared of him at that point, even seeing him tied up there on the floor waiting for someone to deal with him. 

It took a while for your gashes to heal, the ones on your back taking much longer to turn into scars than the ones on your tricep and thigh. The marks on your body were frequent reminders of him and the damage he’s caused to your life. Part of you hated him for it. But most of you just missed him. Unlike Jess, who sent you pictures of her baby every now and then, neither of you had reached out to the other. It was crazy how five years of shared history can be thrown to the ground so quickly.

Right now, you were sitting on the railing of your apartment balcony. For the past month or so, you decided to park it in Earth-3819. There wasn’t much crime going on there, so it was a nice place to stop when you needed a break. Your feet dangled off the edge of the railing, as you looked out to see the sunset on the skyline. The wind blew faintly at your face, causing strands of hair to fall out of your high bun. You had been thinking more about him recently, wondering if he was feeling the same way you were. 

Almost as if you manifested it, you heard the sliding glass door from your bedroom slide open. Startled, you quickly turned around, ready just in case it was an attacker.

It was much worse than an attacker. 

You mouth laid agape as his massive shadow covered your smaller body. Feelings that laid dormant for the past three years suddenly erupting in your stomach. You looked up to the roof of your building as a signal to meet you up there, as you attached a web to the top and swung up there.

Once you were both at the top, you faced your back to him to take time to catch your breath. Your emotions were all over the place right now. “You’re really hard to find, you know,” he said trying to break the silence. You wanted to throw up. As much as you hoped this moment would come, you never realized how unprepared you would be if it ever did. You couldn’t bare to look at him right now, knowing you would lose control of yourself if you did. “You look…good.” How would he know, he only saw your face for a second before you bolted off. You both stood there, the wind growing louder and louder with each second you both stayed silent. 

All of your senses came to a freeze once you felt his hand place itself on your shoulder, causing a flinch from you. “I wanted to find you again, mi vida,” he said in that rich, deep, smooth tone of his that drives you crazy. You could tell he was getting closer when you felt the hairs on your neck stand up from him breathing on them. “I missed you, and I was hoping we could pick up where we left off,” he said into the crook of your neck and began to plant kisses there. You broke free from his grasp by the third kiss he left. “No no no no no, no we can’t. It’s not that simple Miguel,” you said, pinching your bridge and sighing. There's no way he could've thought it would be this easy. He's not this stupid….is he?

“Listen amor, I’m sorry for everything that happened. But the past is the past.” He walked closer to you. “And I want my future with you.” He was up against you again. This time instead of your shoulder, he dragged his finger up and down your back in an almost hypnotic motion. God, you wanted him so bad, you wanted it to be this simple. That he can just apologize and everything could be okay. But you were reminded it couldn't be that way once his finger hit a pressure point in your scar. You swatted your hands in the air and walked away from him again. “No Miguel, that's not how this works. You can just do the things you've done to me and just say sorry and expect it to fix everything. You're not a child.” 

Once you turned around to face him, you saw him standing there like a lost puppy. You just wish he could see what you were talking about. “Don't act like you didn't do horrible things then too. I saw what you did to Jess.” “Don't turn this onto me Miguel. This is about you.” You walked up to him and pressed your finger into his chest. “This is about you, and the horrible things you've done to me! I can't even take a shower anymore without looking at myself in the mirror and seeing your damage!” You lifted up your shirt sleeve. “You did this! This was all you!” Miguel looks down at you with sympathetic eyes as your eyes began to well up. 

“And you can’t just barge in on this life I’ve made for myself and ask for me back because I won't go with you!” You were fully crying at this point, desperately trying to get your words out between sobs and lightly punching at Miguel's chest while he just stared at you. “Because I hate you Miguel! I hate you, okay!” You couldn't manage to talk anymore, overcome with the emotions he caused you to feel. You rested your head on his chest as you continued to sob. He wrapped his arms around you, causing you to do the same to him immediately. You sat there crying into his arms for about a minute, until he lifted up your chin with his finger.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you mi princesa. I’m so sorry. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Overtaken by emotion, you grab his face and crash your lips into his. Almost instinctively, his hands find a home onto your hips. You pull away for a second. “Just stop talking already,” you say breathlessly. He rushes to connect the two of your lips again, already going as far as to slip his tongue in between your lips. He’s so passionate about everything he does. His hands hold a tight grip on your body as his tongue explores your mouth. Almost like he’s hungry for you. No, not hungry. Starving. Famished. Three years apart was too much for him to stand without you by his side or in his bed. He needed you desperately. Like his life depended on if he was going to be able to fuck you into your bed tonight or not. 

He let out moans as your hands ran through and tugged on his hair. But as soon as his claws came out and dug into your hips, you pulled your mouth off of his, a string of saliva still connecting you two. “No claws Miguel. Bring them out again, and its over okay.” You still weren’t mentally over his attack against you. He nods. “Of course, baby.” With that said, you let go of him to walk over to the edge of the building. Once your at the edge, you signal him over. He follows, almost as if he’s under some spell. You attach one of your webs to your balcony railing below and use it as a guide to fall down to it. You land on your balcony, Miguel following close behind as you open the sliding door to your bedroom.

After you close the door and blinds, you turn to find Miguel almost hovering over you. He looked like some kind of lost dog the way he kept following you around, begging for more of you. You gently kiss him and guide him over to your bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and begins to pull your hoodie off your head as you help him take off his suit. Once your sweatpants are off as well, you gently push him onto his back on your bed. Goosebumps form all over your body, partially from exposure to the cold air in your room, and partially from seeing him like this underneath you again. Finally, you take his already hard cock, and slide it into your hole, causing a rough groan out of him as you begin to rock on his hips.

You take things nice and slow while you’re in control, knowing the moment you get sloppy he’ll start to take over for you. You kissed down his neck and collarbone as you rode him, with him gripping hard at your back and your hips. “Nng, m-missed you s-so much amor,” he groaned out. “Tan hermosa.” You begin to speed your thrusting, tugging at his hair to get strained noises out of him. His hands make their way up to your back, digging into your skin. But your quick to rip his hands out of your back and pin them above his head once his talons come out again, into your back this time. You also take your lips off of his and stop your thrusting.

Miguel searched your face for some kind of explanation to the sudden stop, to find you panting and nearly frozen still. You’re taken back to that fight, a result from his claws finding a way into your scars. You’re pulled back to reality by Miguel’s voice. “Amor, que paso?” he asks with concern. You quickly wipe the sweat off your face and look into his beautiful crimson eyes. You wanted to forget the pain he caused you all those years ago, but unfortunately you couldn’t. But, you were willing to forgive him though. “Nothing Miggy,” you say gently, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. He tries to move his hands back onto you, but finds his hands still trapped to the headboard. He looks at you confused. “What did I say about the claws, Miguel.” 

“Ay, baby you know its hard for me to control them around you,” he says, slightly annoyed, driven by the need to touch you again. “Well you’re going to need to try to okay? For now though, you’re going to stay like this.” His face drops, and he makes a sound almost like a whine. “Ay coño, lo siento péro you don’t need to punish me.” You felt powerful hearing him whine and beg like this. You were denying a starving man of his woman, his source of energy. 

Arms squirmed in your hand, as you began to rock on top of him again. You made sure to not kiss him either, moving away whenever he would try to place his mouth onto yours. He whined as you picked up your speed, desperate to feel you again. “P-please, let me go cariño.” You moved your mouth down and whispered in his ear, running your finger up and down his stomach, causing him to melt under you and whimper like a madman. “Not just yet,” you whispered seductively, sending extra chills down his spine and into his stomach when you bit into his ear lobe.

Overcome with your own urge to feel him, you accidentally let go of his hands and moved yours to grab hold of each of his pecs as you planted kisses over his sternum. Suddenly, you’re overswept as Miguel is freed and takes control over the situation. “I love you amor, but you have to let me touch your,” he says in that beautiful, rich tone of his before he goes at his own pace: slamming himself into you. 

He goes much faster than you did, and you almost come there on the spot as he nearly breaks your bed with his ferocity. You grip onto his enormous triceps for leverage as you let out a series of incoherent moans. “You like that, huh?” he pants out. You shove your lips onto his to get him to stop talking. “I-if you’re gonna do this, n-ngh, you’re gonna have to s-hh-ut up,” you manage to get out in between your almost inhumane sounds. He nods and shoves his tongue into your mouth, exploring the insides of your cheeks while his tip slams into your walls, causing that white heat to begin to build up in your stomach.

His hands swarm across your body, making up for lost time before, and eventually land on your breasts as he begins to palm at them. Just as you thought he couldn’t arouse you any more than he already has, he moves his mouth along your jawline, down to your neck, and begins to mark it with kisses and slight sucking. “I-I missed you too, Miggy.” 

That nickname you had for him drove him crazy. So crazy in fact, his next move was to drive his fangs into your neck, making sure to not let his poison seep into your neck. He presses his lips and sucks on the skin on your neck while sinking his fangs deeper into you. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, as you held onto his broad shoulders while he basically slammed you into the bed. “Oh Miguel,” you moaned out. He nodded, not able to speak, due to his fangs still being attached to your neck. You could tell he was getting close too with how sloppy his pace was getting. 

You’re washed over with bliss when the heat in your stomach finally takes over the rest of your body, almost clawing at Miguel while you come. His hands put more pressure on your breasts as he comes as well, moaning into the softness of your neck. Once you two have both finished, he slowly pulls his teeth out of your neck, and licks up the metallic liquid with his warm, delicate tongue. He slowly pulls his cock out of the sweetness of your cunt and rolls over to lay next to you on the bed, dragging his fingers across your pussy, taking the cum his fingers picked up and putting it in his mouth.

He plants a kiss onto your forehead before saying, “One second, princesa, I’ll be right back,” as he got up to go to the bathroom. He must have been in there for about 10 minutes before coming back into your room and reaching out his hand for yours. You take his hand as he leads you out of bed, reminded of how naked you are when you reveal yourself from the sheets.

He leads you into the bathroom to see that hes drawn a bath for the two of you. You blush slightly at the gesture, as he gets in first and leads you in. The touch of the water numbs your body slightly with the mixture of the cold room to the hot bath water. You almost melt as you sink in, laying your back against Miguel’s chest as he wraps his arms around your body. You could fall asleep right here, mixed between the comfort of the bath water, and Miguel’s body finally against yours again. The bathtub was kind of small, so his body was taking up most of the space, causing him to basically engulf you. 

You were surrounded in him, his lips almost attached to the nape of your nack, his arms consuming your upper half, and his legs intwining with your lower half. He wiggles slightly to reach the soap, puts it in the water to wet it, and lathers it onto your body. First, he washes your arms, rubbing the soap back and forth over your arm hairs, and even under your armpits. Next, he moves to wash your chest. He takes the soap and moves it over your breasts and your underboob, causing you to move in closer to him. His response is to peck kisses into the crook of your neck, getting little giggles out of you. You stop giggling though after he stops kissing you and stays still for a second. 

You wait in silence for him to do something. “...Miggy…you okay?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything. You turn your head slightly to see him. Out of your peripherals, you see him staring solemnly at your back. He’s finally seen them. The four almost perfectly placed scars warping across your back. They were huge. And he knows they’re from him. You turned your head back to the front and dug it in between your knees, pushing out your back even more. Miguel delicately traced his fingers over them, as you waited curled up for him to say something. “I’m sorry,” is all he can manage to weakly push out. 

You decide to turn your body around to face him, splashing water around in the cramped bathtub while doing so. His eyes are down with sadness creeping over his face. You cup his cheek with your hand and press a loving, gentle kiss onto his lips. You bring his arms over your shoulders and wrap your legs around his hips. You wanted to be engulfed by him. You were so pressed on staying mad at him for so many years that you forgot how much you loved being this close to him. You could hear his heart softly beating as you pressed your head against his chest. He soon wrapped his arms around your body, taking you into him, and dug his head into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was hiding. 

You stayed there for a moment before eventually turning back around. You laid your head in a position so you could still see his face if you looked up. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off in his arms. Your last thoughts before you slipped out of consciousness was of how perfect this was. 

You had found your home again. Moreso, he found his way to you. And this time, you were never going to let go.

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a/n: i just wanted to say thank you to everyone for sticking around during this series. i know it wasn't meant to be 4 parts and only 2 so i really appreciate everyone who stuck around for the whole thing. make sure to look out for my next thing cause i wanna start writing an enemies to lover oc x miguel thing so please go and support that once thats out. thanks guys!!!!

taglist: @jenniferdixon05207 @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @konniebon @hwanunjin @simp-nerd-16 @chucklefuvk @elwyn7 @haileybxxr @ilovemymomscooking @lansy-4 @maxi-ride @d4rno @callsign-blue @obamnas-soda @sophipet @violentlyneon @d1lf-loverrr @afro-hispwriter @kirke-is-my-name @ilovemiguelohara @lavnderluv @konniebon @msecho19 @kiamewrites

[nanamikentoseyebags]

I know i'm home

for everyone the scars on his body showed that for all his immense power, he was still human. for him they were an agonizing reminder that he would never let it happen again.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: just his little inner satoru finally finds peace, warmth and home, hurt/comfort, fluff

a/n: i've been thinking a whole lot about little satoru lately, here's the result of my reflections lol, hope you enjoy <3

The quiet, velvety night slowly descended to the earth, spreading out an endless blanket of dark sky, sprinkled with a myriad of shimmering stars, inviting the full pale moon to slumber upon it until daybreak. A light summer breeze penetrated into your shared bedroom through the slightly open window, filling every corner of it with a pleasant freshness while gently, as if by the hand of a lover, brushing the loose strands away from your face. The barely audible murmur of the leaves, intertwined with the lulling buzzing of night insects and the occasional trill of birds, produced melodies that any composer would have envied. You stood there barefoot, in his oversized T-shirt that reached your knees, leaning your arms on the windowsill and curiously observing the nature, engulfed in a captivity of a tranquil slumber. It was miraculous how, in this hectic and violent world, there were still such peaceful nights, reserved for the two of you.

You pulled away from the window, gently adjusting the thin floral curtain he'd hung so eagerly, almost on the verge of falling, a few days ago. Listening to the tinkling sound of running water, you tiptoed toward the bathroom, the door of which was slightly ajar. The moments of simple domestic intimacy were so rare yet so precious that his five-minute absence felt like hours of unbearable torture, while the desire to peek through that little gap and catch a glimpse of the dearest silhouette grew with each passing second. You reached the door gingerly, and, squinting slightly in hopes that you wouldn't make a loud noise, you pulled it toward you, widening the viewing angle and quietly peeking in.

Your face met the pleasant warm humidity. The lamps glimmered brightly, illuminating the white tiled walls, little pearl-like droplets still dripping down as if chasing one another in an unspoken game. Satoru was standing with his back turned to you, exposing his broad shoulders and strong back with his birthmarks scattered all across it as if he was a canvas and they were the drops of paint, placed there by the hand of a great master. His snow-white hair, sparkling in the light, shimmered in an array of colors, creating a subtle glow all around him. The misted surface of the mirror revealed the imprints of his large palm, which had rid of the unwanted shroud a few minutes ago, giving him a glimpse of his reflection. His left hand rested on the edge of the basin while the other firmly gripped the razor, moving expertly across his porcelain, now covered in a layer of shaving foam, skin.

Satoru remained concentrated, turning his head deftly and delicately wielding his razor blade. His celestial blue eyes were fixed on his own reflection, while his thoughts were elsewhere. Surrounded by an unusual silence, punctuated only by the gentle whisper of flowing water, he still heard far more than any human ear could. For Satoru, the quietest night, so silent and soundless to everyone, turned into a cacophony of noisy daytime sounds.

He diligently tried to keep the annoying thoughts and noises away from him, striving to mentally return to the pleasant moments of complete tranquility with you. He put all the unnecessary shaving items into the cabinet and bent down, rinsing off the rest of the foam and sending it down the drain along with his dark thoughts. Then he straightened, taking a quick glance at his face reflected in the smooth surface of the mirror and reached for the towel, as his gaze, surprisingly even for him, lingered a little longer on the scar, hidden behind the damp snowy strands that fell on his forehead, and then slowly moved to his neck, eyes flickering worryingly under the blinding light of the bright lamps. He cautiously, as if he were afraid of himself, brought his hand to his neck, tracing the damaged skin with his fingertips and swallowing heavily. He reluctantly lowered his gaze to his chest, staring with revulsion at the vertical scar that so distinctly marked his pale skin.

He shook his head a few times, as if driving away the ghosts of his past, and nestled his head into the soft cloth of the terry towel, gently removing the residue of water from his face. Finally, he lifted his head and flinched slightly, meeting your gaze in the reflection.

"Spying on me?" he immediately turned around, in a moment replacing his startled grimace with his usual wide grin.

"Me? Never," you smiled sheepishly, not expecting to be caught red-handed, and opened the door wider, taking a couple of timid steps in his direction.

"I thought you were already in bed, you little liar," Satoru smirked boyishly, holding out his arms and inviting you into his warm embrace.

"I couldn't sleep without you, so I thought I'd see what you were doing here without me," you teased, wrapping your arms around his strong body and gently stroking his back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, nothing to make you feel neglected," he joked, sounding as confident as possible, but his eyes brimmed with all the colors of unrestrained sadness.

You slapped his back playfully, bursting into hearty laughter and burying your nose into his naked chest. His strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips left a light kiss on your head. Your palm slowly caressed his silky skin, tracing intricate patterns with your fingertips, feeling the hundreds of goosebumps running all over his body. You smiled, your index finger now drawing a small heart just where his heart was beating beneath it. Satoru shook his head, laughing softly and rolling his eyes, "You're so cheesy," but you could still feel his slender, long fingers leaving little hearts on every millimeter of your skin for several minutes now. You smiled blissfully, allowing yourself to melt into his tender embrace, forgetting time and plans, feeling only the comfort of his warmth enveloping you from head to toe and his heart beating right under your cheek.

You gently touched his deep scar, like a scorched mark resting on his flawless, soft-white skin. Satoru's breath hitched as he shuddered at the sudden sensation.

"Does it hurt?" a soft whisper, coming from your lips and fanning his chest with your hot breath, reached his ears.

"Of course not, silly, it has long since healed," he looked at you perplexedly, his eyebrows drawn into a thin line.

"No, does it hurt?" you stressed the last word, lifting your head and gazing into his wide-open hypnotic orbits, hoping that he would understand what you implied in that question.

His lips quivered, and his eyes flickered frantically over your face, trying to figure out if he should voice what had been languishing inside for so long. Small but obvious wrinkles appeared on his forehead, giving his face an even more baffled expression.

"Yeah...' he forcefully uttered the answer that was stuck in his throat, 'sometimes I feel his knife going through me all over again…,' his hand slowly covered yours, stroking your knuckles.

"Right...," you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing his hand lightly, in hopes of showing that you could understand him.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid again and I relive all this stuff over and over again, isn't that silly?" he chuckled sadly, hiding his eyes, in which you could notice snippets of the suffering he had seen throughout his life. It seemed as if, as he uttered these words, he indeed turned into a little boy, only the mischievous smile that everyone around him was so used to seeing had now faded, and his eyes no longer burned with such a vibrant light.

"It's not stupid at all," you lovingly brushed his hair away from his forehead, gently stroking his cheekbone, "I wish I was there to protect you from everything," you admitted sincerely.

"You know I would have done anything to prevent that," Satoru gently took your hand, leaving an appreciative kiss on your palm.

You nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him, just hugged him a little tighter, while gently caressing his tense back muscles. You knew how hard he was trying not to reveal his true emotions to you, to keep cool, but it was his hands that were nervously rubbing the fabric of yours, or rather his T-shirt, and the ragged breathing that caused his chest heave so anxiously that made it all abundantly clear.

"I often wonder what that little boy I once used to be would have said to me after knowing how much pain and death those eyes had seen, what he would have thought when he saw that with every step I took there were bloody footprints on the ground, stretching endlessly behind me, how he would have felt when he noticed those scars, evidence that I had let it happen to him" he continued after a pause, burying his nose in your hair.

"He would have been proud of you," you uttered quietly, "after finding out what you had learned and what else those magic eyes could do, he would have admired seeing what your body, now adorned with a pair of battle marks, was capable of, he would have thanked you when he realized how many people you had saved. And he thanks you now for the way you protect him, because he still lives in you."

Satoru fell silent, holding his breath, heeding every single word that he felt was healing his wounds, kissing all the pain away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes, and exhaled softly.

You caressed his side reassuringly, leaving a kiss on his shoulder, "I just know little Satoru feels safe now."

"Yeah, with you, little Satoru feels at home.”

***

The silent, dark night was replaced by a bright morning, filled with the peals of the birds, causing the sleeping moon to give way to the brilliant sun, illuminating the soft features of Satoru, who had fell asleep on your chest, with its gentle golden rays. The warm blanket he had so carefully wrapped you in before you went to sleep almost slid to the floor, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist while your legs were entwined, preventing you from moving. You smiled earnestly, fingertips stroking his soft skin and once again covering his body with little hearts, while your lips were leaving little kisses here and there. Your heart was full, realizing with its every beat that your whole world was encased in this one person. You lay there quietly, staring at his slightly fluttering white lashes and hoping that in one of the parallel universes you had somehow met sooner, and both little Satoru and little you knew no worries, faithfully carrying your love through life, holding tightly to each other with your intertwined pinkies.

thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! &lt;3

art and dividers are not mine &lt;3

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @afortoru @keiskyutie @vagabond-umlaut @4sat0ruu @softsatoru @mitsuyeaah @playgrl0 @moonsinfonia @a-nuisance-called-sam @gojoshooter

[aziraphales-library]

Heyy, do you have any recommendations of fanfics named after Hozier's (our lord and savior) songs? Especially more recent ones since both season 2 and his new album were released relatively close.

Thank you very much, your work is amazing!!!

There are... so many. We're previously recommended some fics inspired by Hozier here. Here are some series two Hozier fics...

no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to you) by AK_Qhyrstol (T)

Keep driving, keep driving… He’d been holding his breath for hours, trying not to let the lump in his throat and the burn in his eyes win. His lips were pursed and tight, desperately holding back the sobs screaming in his lungs. Where could he even go? There wasn’t anywhere for him to go. -- Or: After Aziraphale leaves Earth for Heaven, Crowley gets in the Bentley and drives, and drives, and drives...

The Choiceless Hope in Grief (That Drove Him Underground) by aac0577 (NR)

Post-Breakup, Muriel and Crowley talk. Aziraphale and Crowley do too.

It's More the Being Unknown by sam_rvb (G)

The last few months have been a bit of a blur for Crowley, who has been trying to figure out what to do with himself since Aziraphale left him for Heaven. He's taken up residence in the bookshop alongside Muriel, who finds a new room to explore and asks Crowley if it's okay for them to read the newly discovered books within.

from eden by tlsonetwothree (G)

In the wake of Aziraphale’s destruction of Crowley’s heart, there is a certain solace he finds in the Earth they once shared. The demon takes a road trip to a cottage in the South Downs, where he tries to pick up the pieces of his heart and soul, both of which left when his world did.

The fear in its eyes, Gone out in an instant. Your tear caught the light, The Earth from a distance. by bl0rb0 (T)

Aziraphale has never seen Crowley cry. He’s been there in the rare moments the man-shaped being has done so, but Crowley always turns away or flees somewhere unknown. Aziraphale doesn't know that a piece of the Starmaker resides in Crowley, in the form of his tears. Crowley’s tears are filled with Holy Water and every time he cries, his tears make themselves known on his cheeks as a form of scars and burns. When Aziraphale leaves to heaven, Crowley hides in his beloved Bently to cry his sorrows away. He hoped it would be a short cry, one that goes just as quickly as it came and then he can return to his sarcastic and bitter self. But years go by and Crowley’s cheeks and hands have scarred over and he refuses to come out of hiding until a lighthearted and once naive angel pulls him out.

Don't Fall Away From Me by dream_animal (NR)

“Ok…” Crowley ran a hand through his hair. “Ok, ok, so - we need a plan. And to do that, we need information, yeah?” “Right,” nodded Muriel, enthusiastically. “Right,” said Crowley. “I suspect it will be a bit more difficult for me to just waltz through Heaven this time, so you’re going to need to—” he cut off with a gasp, like he’d been punched in the gut, and inhaled sharply. “What—" Muriel felt it a moment later, unbidden tears spilling from their eyes. A great despair. A wave of agony and anguish. A cosmic imbalance, ripping across the ethereal plane. Angels and demons alike shuddered under the weight of unbearable grief. The universe wept. It was a feeling that had not been felt for millennia. Crowley dropped to his knees. Muriel turned to him, horrified. “It- it’s…” An angel had Fallen. In which Crowley deals with life post-Aziraphale, and Aziraphale deals with the consequences of his decisions. Can they pick up the pieces in time to save the world, again?

Heaven isn't built to house a love like you and I by ItsScottiesStark (T)

They did it. They stopped Armageddon. They survived. This was it, the first time they were actually free to finally figure out what their side entailed. Aziraphale is a being of love. Always has been. And now, all the love he has for Crowley is free to flow from the edge of his fingertips to the demon's, in a gesture that could only mean one thing; I'm with you. I'm here. As much as his hands itch to reach out for the love of his existence, his words seem to fail him, time and time again. He knows Crowley deserves more than gentle hand holding and forehead kisses in the dark. He aches to scream his love from the top of his lungs, for the whole world to hear. And the demon knows it. And he waits. Because he'll wait forever for Aziraphale. Because he knows they are meant to be one. We take a peak into Aziraphale and Crowley's "peaceful, fragile existence" they slowly carve out for themselves after Armage-not. We get to see Aziraphale slowly but surely reach out for the demon time and time again, bringing them closer than ever. Until Jim happens. And it all goes to shit.

- Mod D

[holdinbacksecrets]

Hiii! I have a little idea for a request but nothing too specific. Just Jk and his s/o being each other's biggest comfort place 🥺 Thank youu! I gotta say, I've read your pieces and they're gold!! 👏 My favorite blog on this site! Thank you for sharing it all with us 🩷

greetings! thank you so much for requesting and sharing kind words! i’m thrilled to know you’ve enjoyed my pieces 🥺 i hope you like this one too 🖤

you’re alive in autumn. the earth embraces you, tells you your existence is marvelous, and you always breathe easier when you meet these months again.

this morning, the air is crisp, saturating your living room in freshness created by the dew left behind after dawn’s rain.

your coffee is hot, swirling steam that warms the palm hovering above it. you’re passing time, twiddling your thumbs, watching minutes tick by on the wall clock.

jungkook’s not late. you can’t remember a time he ever was, but you’re his excited girlfriend. a girlfriend who’s known a heavy missing for weeks with a thick distance between the two of you. but today is the day, marking his return, and restoring a warm balance not even autumn can gift you.

you’re pouring a second cup of hazelnut brew when the lock clicks. you nearly squeal, maintaining composure until his hello meets your ear. the greeting holds excitement that matches your own, sung with joy.

“jungkook,” you breathe his name in the moment you’re scooped up by strong arms. your favorite arms in all their comforting, safe familiarity.

with your face buried in the crook of his neck, he spins you around, but doesn’t let you down once his feet are planted on the kitchen floor. your legs wrap around his waist, fingers combing through shorter hair than what he left with. you smile, giggling against his skin at the pure bliss of this scene.

“you’re back. thank god you’re back.”

he squeezes you, mumbling words of gratitude, making you laugh when he shares how happy he is to smell you again. “i swear i’ve missed it. hotel pillows don’t smell like your shampoo. i bought a little travel bottle, then i started knocking out fast- couldn’t remember pulling the sheets over me.”

your backside meets the granite of your kitchen counter, and you peel yourself away from him, feeling the stickiness between you, feeling your body begging for more already.

his thumb fans across your cheek, crossing the rosy apple, enjoying its softness.

“you weren’t the only one having trouble sleeping. i thought sleeping in your clothes would be good enough… i drowned my sheets in your cologne and ordered an extra long pillow to hold.”

you squeeze his shoulder, letting your head fall to rest against his chest. jungkook’s lips meet the top of your head. “we’re so used to being together now.”

“mhmm, and i love it. you’re my favorite person.”

jungkook’s hands run mindlessly up and down the length of your back, and you lift your head to find his lips.

your kisses create some kind of magic.

his tattooed hand flattens against your back, bringing you chest to chest. your fingertips are in his hair, and your bodies fall into a perfected rhythm.

somehow, you’ve been this lucky. somehow, you’ve realized all your ragged edges were sculpted purposefully, awaiting the day they would meet seamlessly with jungkook’s. your lips together is one reminder, and it’s been fun uncovering all the others.

his touch is your comfort as your voice is his.

his eyes are your compass as your smile is his.

your fears can tumble out messily and he will sit beside you, sorting them out together, smoothing the intimidating blurs.

his uncertainties taint dreams, taking off in the night, but you don’t mind his gentle waking, talking through splintered thoughts together until their endings have mended.

from the beginning, the two of you have been well aligned. it just took time to realize you fit together so beautifully. things you were afraid to say and sides you were afraid to show brought you closer.

now you’re close like this. close enough to kiss. close enough to laugh and yearn. close enough to unwind and hit pause. close enough to know even your time apart is a luxury because you miss and you crave, and you can’t wait to be back together. you can’t wait to make more love and discover another curve that meets his bend.

[the-dork-urge]

|| Stone and earth || Zevlor X Tav

Summary: In which a cold Tav helps Zevlor and realizes how lonely it must be hidden away in a damp alcove. Just a quick little fic. (can even be a prequel to this ) Wordcount: 1235

Tav meticulously traced the intricate paths on the map, her brow furrowed in concentration. Despite their focus, an unyielding chill seemed to seep deeper into her bones with each passing moment; Tav longed for even a fleeting warmth.

A sidelong glance at Zevlor revealed a subtle flicker of orange fire dancing in his dark eyes. Tav's heart fluttered, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her—feelings unspoken. The comfort she felt in his presence and the quickened pulse at the sound of his voice left her questioning: were these emotions born solely from shared hardships, or did they hint at something more profound?

Unfazed by the cold, Zevlor maintained focus on the maps. Recollections of the tieflings' natural warmth prompted Tav to subtly shift closer, seeking solace in his comforting heat.

As Tav pointed to the Goblin Camp on the map, her hand rested on the table's edge, the other hovering near the camp's perimeter. "Your scouts reported a guard patrol stationed here?" she inquired, her voice steady as she studied the markings.

Zevlor leaned forward, his hand finding a place near Tav's. Her breath caught as she felt the warmth of his hand close to hers. Distracted momentarily, Zevlor gently held her hand, nudging her pointing finger to align with the correct location on the map.

"There," he said, still holding onto her hand. "And those are likely not the only ones," Zevlor continued, withdrawing his hands with a throat clearing, his gaze flickering away.

"Astarion's silver tongue might grant you entry past the first. Sneaking past them all seems improbable," he explained, his eyes returning to the map, his mind still reeling from their touch. Wishing for the courage to reach out again, to express how much her presence meant to him.

"Then perhaps we'll have to confront them head-on instead," Tav contemplated, meeting Zevlor's gaze with a faint blush on her skin.

Zevlor's worry was evident as he looked down at Tav. He wanted to object, to caution against such a risky approach. Tav and the others were his only hope, and the thought of losing her, not having her counsel and kindness during evenings like this, was unbearable.

With a heavy heart, he spoke. "Are you up for that? I have nothing to offer you in this fight." Admitting his shame, he contemplated alternatives, his gaze falling upon the maps. "Sending out another scouting party might be wise," he suggested, his voice carrying the burden of recent losses. "But after the massacre at the gate, I doubt anyone is willing to risk it. I would go myself if I could, but I can't leave them defenseless, not while we are still in this snakepit." Bitterness coated his words, disappointment etched across his face.

Tav placed a hand on his shoulder, and Zevlor relaxed into the gesture. "I appreciate it. All I need from you right now is trust," Zevlor turned to meet her gaze, "and perhaps a little prayer." Tav smiled, a worry mirroring his own, acknowledging the limited options. They had to go in, find the Druid Halsin, defeat the Goblins—for herself, her party, the tieflings, and Zevlor.

"I can do that," he said, a smile barely masking his worries. "Thank you, Tav."With a subtle nod, Tav acknowledged his gratitude, warmth blossoming within her. "You are very welcome," she replied, pride coloring her words as she looked back at the maps. "Alright, well, since that's settled, how about we have a drink?" Zevlor suggested, a twinkle in his eyes and a smile breaking through his worries. "I bet you could use one—the last one for a couple of days."

Tav chuckled. "A drink sounds like just the thing to take the edge off," she agreed, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Setting aside the maps, they made their way to a small alcove in the cave, bottles of spirits stashed within. Tav wondered if these were the last of Zevlor's provisions as he bent down to grab them.

"Are you sure you don't want to save them?" she interrupted, her concern evident in her voice. Longing for the warmth of the spirits, she felt it more appropriate for Zevlor to save them for a time when they could celebrate victories.

Zevlor chuckled, a hidden sadness behind his smile. "And then drink them by myself?" he joked, the weight of their situation underlying his tone. "Nonsense." Handing her one of the final bottles, he added, "Besides, it's just a small way to thank you."

Tav accepted the bottle with a grateful nod. "Then I shall accept the offer." With a soft pop, she opened the bottle, the sound echoing in the quiet alcove. Zevlor followed suit, mirroring her actions.

"To your courage," Zevlor toasted, lifting his bottle in the air.

"And to your kin," Tav replied, clinking their bottle necks together. As their gazes met, she sensed something in Zevlor's expression—a complexity she couldn't quite decipher.

"To my kin," Zevlor repeated softly, his voice filled with a mix of astonishment and gratitude. It was as if he couldn't quite believe that Tav would raise a toast for them. Yet, why was he still so surprised by her kindness?

As they made their way back to the table, Tav took a seat on its top, the warmth from the drink spreading through her chilled body. As she settled in, she couldn't help but cast a lingering gaze around the alcove. It was a small, dimly lit space, tucked away in the depths of the Grove. The dampness of the surroundings seeped into the air, mingling with the faint scent of earth and stone.

Her eyes traced over Zevlor's personal belongings scattered around the alcove. A sense of sadness washed over her as she realized how many evenings he must have spent here alone before she came to aid him. Mustering the courage to speak, she pressed the bottle to her lips, taking big gulps, before placing it down beside her, a question formed on her lips. ''Are you lonely Zevlor?'' Tav's eyes wandered to the corner where Zevlor's messy bedroll lay tucked away. She imagined his restless nights in dark and damp solitude, carrying the burden of leadership by himself.At least she had her companions near her as she carried the burden of leadership, with them beside her, every task felt severely less daunting.

"I- it's," he stumbled quietly, seeking refuge in the bottle before continuing, "Tilly, she helps me during the day, it's company but..." His words trailed off, and a heavy silence settled between them. "When it's dark, I face the world alone." Tav's heart ached at his admission. She reached out her hand, a silent gesture inviting him closer. "If you'd like, I can stay a while longer," she offered her words lingering in the air. Zevlor hesitated briefly before extending his hand, allowing Tav to draw him nearer to the table.

"I'm cold, Zevlor. Come sit beside me," she encouraged, feeling the warmth in his touch as he complied. As he settled beside her, he took one last sip from his bottle for courage, feeling Tav gently lean her head onto his shoulder.

"We're in this together, Zevlor," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible as she reached for his hand. Zevlor's heart swelled with gratitude at her words, squeezing her hand in return.

-> Masterlist

[spaceprincessem]

coming out of my cage to post for robstar week (@robxstar) because i recently rewatched teen titans and i love robstar so bad. wasn't feeling very creative and they just helped me write some lil fun self-indulgent things 💖 now i can share with all of you

day 1 - friends to lovers

she's the tear in my heart

It wasn’t long after the completion of the Tower that the roof became their spot.

Robin loved to watch the sunset over the bay and Starfire found freedom in the star speckled sky.

The first few nights, when they were just beginning to understand how to coexist with each other he’d always find her staring up at the sky late into the night. He wondered if she missed being part of the greater universe, flying past galaxies and spinning through the vastness that both terrified and humbled him.

He didn’t have to ask if she was missing home.

There was a deep longing, a sadness that shimmered in the shadows of her eyes, one that even the brightest smile couldn’t chase away. 

These days she calls Earth her home and Robin’s never been more thankful to exist in the same place as someone else.

“Hey,” he smiles, finding her knees tucked up to her chest right on the edge where she always is.

“Hi.” She returns the smile, warm and soft and something that is just for him.

It makes his heart beat harder, a traitorous pitter patter he’s long given up the fight to stop. Batman taught him a lot of things, but never how to defeat a hunger that runs so deep that he feels the ache in his bones. How to unwant someone because being with them isn’t something you’re allowed to have.

He takes his place next to her, touching as much as possible; a searing line of heat from shoulder to hip bone. 

There’s a steady hum beneath his skin that wants and wants and wants.

It’s late or, really, just very early. Dawn will be breaking over the city soon, their horizon one of the last to see the sun rising in the sky. 

“You know,” Starfire says quietly, “it has been a year since we all met.”

Robin knows and not just because they all agreed to celebrate the anniversary of forming the Titans and their friendship. He will never forget that fateful day. As much as he hates to admit it, he was a little lost in the shadow of Batman, needing to set off on his own. New town and a new start.

He wasn't expecting to find his family.

Or the love of his life.

But he keeps that close to his chest; locked up tight with no chance of seeing daylight.

“Best day of my life.” Robin admits.

He can hardly stop himself from admitting deeper truths when Starfire is by his side. She tilts her head, hair falling over her shoulder as she eyes him curiously.

“Okay.” Robin laughs, “maybe best is a weird way to describe it, but I got to meet all of you, and I’m honestly not sure where I would be if we hadn’t.”

Probably in the depths of Slade’s clutches, destroying a city instead of saving it.

“I have also thought about that.” Starfire says, her gaze back on the sky.

A coil white hot and wicked slithers through Robin’s ribcage. He doesn’t have to ask to know what she’s imagining. The Citadel. He’ll never forget the way she said prize as if her agency didn’t matter. 

As if Starfire didn’t matter.

A royal princess that paid the ultimate price; sacrificing her freedom for her planet and people. She was starved and restrained, terrified out of her mind because of the horrors that awaited her. It still makes Robin sick to his stomach. 

Without thinking he presses closer and Starfire unwinds, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the tower as she takes up the space Robin offers her.

“I do not often have nightmares anymore of what could have been,” she says quietly, “but I suppose on such occasions it is not a surprise.”

Robin takes her hand, the need to touch and comfort too great. Something in his skin settles when her fingers lace between his own.

“You’re safe,” he reminds her. “You’re here, with us, and I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

“I know.”

Robin can see the depths of green in her eyes, like an old growth forest with flecks of gold. Her gaze is heavy — honest — and Robin’s breath catches in his throat. He’s never known someone to have so much faith in him, despite his flaws and limitations and everything he’s done, Starfire believes in him. 

He imagines sliding his hand to cup her cheek, slotting their mouths together like they were made to fit, because Robin knows they were. 

 Not yet

Starfire’s knowing smile relieves some of the guilt and ache in his chest. He owes her so much and maybe one day he can return the favor.

“I believe we saved each other that day,” she squeezes his hand, thumb brushing gently over Robin’s skin.

I love you, Robin thinks unbidden.

“Yeah,” he swallows, choking back the swell of emotions, like the waves of a tsunami being sucked back out to sea, “we did.”

The sun catches over the tower, the water shimmering with the promise of a new day.

“If I recall,” Starfire says lightly, “I promised Cyborg that I would help make his famous three layer cake for our celebration today.”

“Starting at dawn?” Robin laughs as they stand up, hands still clasped together.

Starfire starts to say something, but a loud crashing sound from the kitchen answers Robin’s question. It’s followed by a string of curses causing Robin and Starfire to fall into each other laughing. 

“Come,” Starfire says as she tugs him towards the door, “I believe Cyborg is in need of rescuing.”

Robin just smiles fondly as she leads him back into the tower, counting down the seconds to when he never has to let go.

[only-lonely-stars]

Orange is the New Black (Chapter 1 - Coalescence)

[Chapter 1 - you are here!] // [Chapter 2] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of @ninjago-fic-fest!

Summary:

A rift opens in the sky above Ninjago City just as Cole continues his track record of falling from tall places. The place he wakes up in isn't the same as the one in which he fell... and who's the kid with a man bun who looks just like him?

When the world ended, it was just another day in the height of midsummer.

Aboard the Destiny’s Bounty, the Ninja team went about their usual days: training, playing video games, and annoying one another. Zane and Lloyd played chess. Master Wu meditated on his spirit smoke, uninterrupted for the moment. Nya and Jay tinkered in the hold, and Kai served as a makeshift spot welder for them as they constructed what would surely be the Ninja’s best weapon.

Cole sat on the bow of the Bounty, alone with his thoughts.

Many hundreds of feet separated him from the earth he loved so well, but it didn’t bother him. He’d been a passenger on the various Bounties since he was a young ninja. As an adult, the drop neither scared nor exhilarated him, even though he’d suffered it before. He’d suffered worse than the fall before.

No, he enjoyed the view from above, watching as the edge of Ninjago City gave way to desert sand. Here in the sand hills, very little grew. His hometown was nearby…

When they landed, he’d give his dad a call. It had been a while, and the anniversary of his mom’s death was coming up soon. He was overdue for a chat anyway.

Cole was so engrossed in his thoughts that at first he didn’t notice the way the sunlight and sky subtly changed color. It was only when magenta light flashed across his eyes, obscuring the sight of the town below, that he finally realized something was happening.

He sat up straight, blinking a few times, wondering if he’d imagined it.

It was light. He’d never seen anything like it before! Bright magenta, stretching out in a line, cleaving the sky into pieces.

The line was branching, and they were all growing.

—

Cole burst into the hold of the ship. “Guys!” 

Jay yelled in surprise, dropping a heavy wrench on his foot, and yelled again in pain. “Ow, ow, ow!”

Kai jumped, then turned and glared at Cole. “Not cool buddy!”

“I’m sorry– it’s an emergency!” Cole looked around frantically. “Where’s Nya?”

“She went up to her bunkroom to get something.” Jay gave him a quizzical look as he massaged his injured foot. “Why?”

“We need all hands on deck! Something strange is happening.” Cole gestured for them to follow him. “Come on!”

Kai and Jay shared a quick look, then followed him up the stairs.

The three ninja burst out onto the deck, where a rapidly devolving scene awaited them. Zane and Lloyd were fighting with the rigging, struggling to tie it down. When he saw them, Lloyd’s face lit up with hope. “It’s about time! Give us a hand?”

The other ninja sprung into action, but Cole couldn’t help noticing a strange feeling in the air. Something wasn’t quite right, and it was only getting worse. What was it about this light that made him so uneasy, besides its bizzarre appearance?

When the rigging was tied, Cole pulled Zane aside. “Zane, buddy, do you feel something off?”

Zane frowned, looking around at the strange magenta stripes in the sky. “I am afraid I do not understand what you mean.”

“Remember, you used to have a sixth sense? I don’t know what it is, but it feels like the Rift of Return.” Cole pointed at his scar. “I can feel it, whatever this is. It’s not good.”

“I see. Perhaps it is a portal of some kind?”

There were more stripes of magenta light forming, splitting into what looked like tears. Within them, they saw flashes of strange realms, almost like windows. Behind the rifts were dragons, lava pools, floating islands, unmistakeable mountains, dark caverns, an office building, person-sized snails– all too much to comprehend so fast.

The two brothers shared a worried frown, Cole speaking for both of them. “This isn’t going to end well.”

—

By Cole’s best guess, it was about half an hour later when the inevitable occurred.

The tears had widened, spreading out into a star above the center of Ninjago City. In each, a different unfamiliar place could be seen, just as before. There were so many sights, each of them more interesting than the last! None of it mattered much to the Ninja, who were frantically busy with managing the Bounty in the strong wind, and there were too many civilians to save for any of them to cloudgaze.

The moment of true crisis came as Cole was busy lifting a very large, very heavy shipping container. It had fallen from a semi trailer, and from there had trapped an unfortunate family inside their car on a lower overpass.

Just as he lifted it high enough for them to crawl out, Cole heard Lloyd’s voice over his comm.

“Everyone, rendezvous at the Bounty. This storm’s getting worse!”

Cole gave a hasty confirmation, the whole team echoing him, and turned to go. He threw the shipping container aside, throwing himself into Spinjitzu so he could grab the civilians faster. He couldn’t head back until they were safe.

All was well until a piece of flying shrapnel struck him in the chest, throwing him out of Spinjitzu and onto the edge of the overpass. He laid there, dangling free over the edge.

“COLE!” Jay shrieked over the comms, so loud Cole winced. “Stay there! Hold on!”

Cole groaned, looking around. Below him, the drop was at least thirty feet– farther than he could safely fall, and he was slipping.

Lloyd’s voice came over the comms. “Pull yourself up if you can! We’re in trouble here!”

Cole looked back up and began to pull himself up, but he’d been fighting against the storm winds for so long, he was exhausted.

He wished he could reach to trigger his comm and speak without losing his grip… Cole gave a mighty effort, trying to raise himself high enough to climb back up, but it wasn’t enough. The winds and the shrapnel buffeted him, a piece of wood striking him in the chest. 

His grip finally failed.

Cole screamed as he fell, directly into a newly-opened rift, and it swallowed him whole.

—

There was a pounding in his head, but Cole was conscious again. It was a feat of strength, considering the immense fall he’d just survived.

He groaned and pushed himself up from the ground, where he’d been laying since the impact. He couldn’t really recall how he got there, other than the pressure and the pain. Perhaps it was simply too fast to recall. It wasn’t like his slow descent from the Bounty so many years ago, into the cloud of Oni magic in Ninjago City. That had been filled with dread; this was empty.

He peeled off his mask and pried his eyes open, only to be greeted with sunlight.

No dark purple cloud of evil magic here. Just a regular, sunny day.

He looked up. He couldn’t see the sun– no judging the time of day, then– but when he squinted, something was… wrong.

The sky was almost the wrong shade of blue… but that was impossible!

Of course, Cole had seen the impossible before.

He looked down and shook his head, noticing for the first time how stiff all his muscles had become. With a groan of pain, he reached up to massage his temples, hoping for his minor headache to subside and be replaced with conscious thought. He needed to focus.

A few minutes later, he finally had the strength to look around.

Cole was in the middle of some kind of grassy field, striped with lines at equal distances from each other. It was perfectly flat, shaped like a rectangle, and had a rubber running track with lengthwise lines surrounded it in an oval shape. Past the track on one side, there were long steel benches. It was quite obviously meant for sports, but Cole didn’t recognize any of it– maybe he just hadn’t spent enough time playing sports when he was a teenager.

He got to his feet and turned around, taking stock of his environment. The place was mostly deserted, save for two teenage boys standing on the track. They were watching him.

Cole waved.

The boys continued staring.

Feeling weird in a number of ways, Cole ignored them for the moment and continued taking stock of his environment. There was something strange about it, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Things seemed to have a sharper edge than normal, almost shiny in places. Maybe his headache was a sign that he’d gotten a concussion? It didn’t quite explain what he was seeing.

Maybe he’d get some answers from bystanders. The teenagers were still standing where he’d noticed them before. Come to think of it, he was having a hard time figuring out what time it was. Had he passed out for a long time?

It couldn’t hurt to ask, so he dusted himself off and walked toward them. The taller of the two, wearing a black muscle shirt with some unfamiliar logo on it, stepped in front of the shorter boy in green. As Cole approached, he pushed one ear of his headphones back.

“Can we help you?” The boy asked warily.

“Hey!” Cole waved, doing his best to appear friendly. “Hi, sorry, I just wanted to ask you something. Did you see a whole bunch of pink light a few minutes ago?”

The boy narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know if you knew what it was. I, uh, think I passed out.”

The teenagers looked at each other, the shorter chiming in on the conversation. “You fell from… whatever it was. Not a huge drop, maybe two yards?”

Cole frowned. “...Yards?” The boy nodded. “What’s a yard?”

The boys’ eyes widened, and they glanced at each other again. “You don’t know what a yard is?”

“Uh… no?”

The taller boy held his hands out, measuring a distance. “This far.”

“Aha!” Cole laughed. “You could’ve just said two meters! That makes more sense.”

“Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”

“Maybe?” Cole brushed it off, filing away the odd miscommunication for later. “Look, my name’s Cole. I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Where am I, exactly?”

“You’re at Ninjago High School, on the football field.” The shorter one was wearing a puzzled expression, like he was trying to figure something out. “Where did you think you were?”

“Oh, man. I don’t know! I’m always somewhere new.” Cole waved it off. “You know how it is. Between the dragons, the Realm Crystal, Nadakhan’s whole deal, the Never Realm… man, it’s a wonder I ever get back to the Monastery sometimes.” he laughed. “Maybe I’m in another realm again! That would be neat.”

“Another realm?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty normal for us ninja.”

The two boys stiffened, with the taller one taking just a half-step forward. “Okay, who are you? Are you an impersonator?”

“An impersonator?” Cole waved his hands in front of him. “Woah, dude, you’ve got the wrong idea. You really don’t recognize me?”

“No. Should I?”

“Uh, maybe, seeing as this is apparently Ninjago.” Cole pulled up his mask. “Cole Brookstone, the Black Ninja?”

Some spark of realization clicked in the black-haired teen’s expression, and he crossed his arms. “Okay, something’s wrong. That can’t be true.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because that’s me.” The teenager pointed at himself. “I’m Cole. The Black Ninja.”

Cole stared at him.

‘Cole’ stared back.

“What?”

[saphirered]

So excited for this next set! The Autumn ones were amazing, even for the fandoms I wasn’t a part of! Could I put in a request for #5 with MollyxReader, wherever in the spice to fluff spectrum you are most comfortable?

Aww thank you! I'm excited to write them! I went with some light but cute spice for this one so hopefully it turned out the way you wanted. Thanks for requesting! 😘

Mollymauk Tealeaf has a strong dislike for the cold. He’d say he’s always done so, and that might be true. He cannot stand the feeling of his fingers and toes going numb where he cannot control when that feeling goes away. He doesn’t like the perpetual misery. He doesn’t like the shivers that make him tremble to the very bone like some twig in the breeze. But then again, he supposes he doesn’t mind the latter as much when you notice. He doesn’t mind when you sit next to him to share your blanket, or when you throw your cloak around his shoulders only to wrap your arms around his waist so you’re both covered by the warm fabric. It’s never truly the warmth of layers that brings him the comfort of warmth but instead it’s your presence, your body against his wether it be huddled up together on watch, or comfortably asleep when camp is set, and sometimes it’s only a second nature to you both, to engage in something more physically intimate to stay warm. He never minds the cold in those times. 

But just like him, you have your own chores to take care of. Sometimes he’d be able to get an out, or make a bargain to pass on his share to someone else but you, some annoying sense of duty and responsibility pushes you to always feel the need to see things through, to earn your salt in this circus even though you’ve done it a thousand times over. This means that whenever Molly has conflicting tasks, he cannot always be near you, and look to preserve what warmth his infernal blood does retain in this blasted weather. He has to resort to other means, which sometimes involve sulking at the nearest fire, getting the first and last bowls of soup, stew or broth or whatever mulled wine the others or he feel creative enough to risk experimenting with. It’s never truly enough. He needs you and he’ll patiently wait for you, dutifully so until you finish. 

Not many visitors in the dead of winter, when the snow sticks to the earth and the soil is too dense for anyone but the strongest to set up the tents. Wether it be through some minor magics able to circumvent this problem or through brute force, it needs to be done. The downside; it takes much longer for you to set up. The upside; Mollymauk can’t do much until camp is set and finishes any other tasks quickly. He’s been off gathering firewood for the better part of two hours now. Camp is set and people go back to finding warmth where they can, and preserve what they got. Molly still hasn’t returned so you decide to go looking wrapped in your cloak and a blanket and a slight annoyance that grows every time you see your breath upon the air when you exhale. You follow the tracks through the hills and scarce trees. 

It doesn’t take you too long. Perhaps fifteen minutes when you see the bastard, back towards you submerged to his chest in steaming water. He leans against the stones, arms balancing him on the ledge of this what you feel safe to assume must be a hot spring. His clothes lay abandoned atop the pile of twigs and branches; the firewood he was supposed to gather. You take care to not make a single noise feeling the need for some petty revenge. You throw off the blanket, gently and quietly let it fall near the edge of this spring, and kneel down. For good measure you place your hands into the snow, feeling that tingling cold, so freezing but so worth it for your evil plan and then, just as your fingers go numb, you glide them over his shoulders, upper chest and arms which you hold onto. 

“Fucking hells!” Molly exclaims as he tries to get away from that freezing touch but fails, his body locking up at the sudden change in sensation. He needs not look around to see who it is. He darn well knows it’s you, little devil you are. That giggle gives it away, and if it wasn’t that, it would be the tender lips but freezing that land against his warm cheek. Shivers. 

“So all of us have been freezing our asses off and you’ve been out here soaking away?” You scoff as finally he wrestles free of your grasp and swims just out of your reach. 

“I am so sorry, love. I must’ve lost track of time. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll help you set up camp and take over anyone’s chores for the rest of the day-“ He claims but anyone with the intention of making good on those empty promises would have made an effort to get out of the water while Molly just backs in further. You just shake your head and pinch your brow. 

“Oh my poor darling.” You muse as a wicked expression graces your features that has Mollymauk concerned and suspicious when you reach into the snow, cupping your hands together and next thing he knows cold hits him square in the face. Aghast he looks at you when he knows what hit him but then another hits him in the horn. He ducks underwater to avoid your next one and stays under but he can only hold his breath so long before he has to come back up and when he does; another hit. 

“Okay okay, you’ve had your fun. Are you done now?” He grumbles. You throw another but miss. “Don’t make me come over there.” He points a finger at you and you laugh, sit down on your blanket and make a ‘come here’ motion as you hold another snowball in your other hand. Slowly he nears, wary of another rude attack. You contain yourself and then when he’s at that ledge, where you’re at, he’s quick. Molly grasps your wrist forcing you to drop the snowball until it falls apart on the ground. You just look at him indifferent as he is up to his mid section out of the water. Instant regret. Goosebumps skitter across his skin as a shiver runs through him. 

“I propose a truce!” He sinks back down as much as possible while still holding onto your wrist but you could pull free at any moment. He doesn’t doubt you could have done so at any point. 

“I’m listening.” You decide to entertain the proposal mostly so, the closer you are to the water surface the more you are wishing yo be submerged too. In all honesty if it were you in his place, you’d likely have lost track of time too, wilfully or not. 

“How about, you join me in here, instead of pelting me in frigid cold?”

“As opposed to?”

“You staying out there, in the cold and watching me enjoy this hot spring all on by myself. I’m not getting out any time soon, and I don’t think you’ll be leaving without me?” He expects a witty comeback about how you’ve got no objections to leaving him here. He half expect you to get up without a word and take his clothes save for his boots and maybe his cloak if you’re feeling gracious. You entertain the thought it seems and he experiences a brief moment of fear but no regrets. You tap your chin. Turn halfway to look in the direction of the trees, and hills beyond you know lies the camp. 

“You make a compelling argument.” You state simply and Molly blinks a couple of times. That- that was much easier than he had thought. Without another word you begin to strip, carefully removing each layer until you’re standing on that blanket you brought, exposed to the air. Goosebumps skitter across your skin as you hold yourself. It’s that Molly’s committed your visage to memory that he needs not look twice to take in the beauty that you are because you allow yourself to sink into the spring fast, to engulf in the warmth. You moan and throw back your head as the heat eases your aching muscles and banishes the cold from your bones. 

The water rocks lightly signalling an approaching presence from behind. Then arms snake around your waist lightly and lips graze your shoulder. You tilt your head to the side to allow better access and those lips grace your neck with their presence until you can’t but let your body lean back and huddle into that warm presence behind you. A chuckle vibrates against your skin when you sigh deeply and relax. A tail wraps around your calf and curves up. Your fingers stop the ones just about to trail up your sternum while the other tugs on one of the silver chains dangling from his horns and draws the tiefling’s attention. He hums in acknowledgement but does not stop his kisses. He’s in a playful mood and is working very hard to extract whatever sounds you allow to slip past your lips. You find it difficult to speak and have to compose yourself when such deliberate attention is paid to you. Leave it to Mollymauk to know exactly what makes you tick. 

Devious little thing you are, you retaliate. Your fingers lace into his hair, trail along his horn and send shivers down his back, but worse is your other hand having let go of his and allowing him to continue that journey you let yours reach backward. Molly feels the pads of your fingers ever so lightly brush over his side, and his hips, curving along the muscle and bone and following the patterns of the ink etched into his skin without a need for sight but then that wicked hand moves between, slides closer to his abdomen, and lower, but never quite low enough. And then your touch does dwell lower, but past, and instead strokes along his thigh, his inner thigh as much as you can reach, always so careful to avoid that pulsing need. If you can let your hands wander low, so will he. Nails graze down your stomach and curl up and down your side causing you to tremble into him, but then they dance lower, around the apex of your thighs, along that tender skin, daring to graze ever so lightly but never quite touching. Two can play this game. He notices how your breath catches when he ‘accidentally’ dares to brush past. He notices how you back into him, and how you slip up sometimes, your touch reaching just where you know he needs you. Right when he thinks you’re about to break, when he thinks he’s got you, you push away from his body slightly, still within his arms but a few inches between your bodies as you turn to face him. Your hands retract and he thinks he might have died right then and there. 

“Oh my poor darling.” You hum ever so sweet. Molly hangs onto your every word, completely out of mind. So out of mind he misses the wickedness in your eyes. “You really don’t to well with the cold, do you?” You let your fingers trail along his neck and shoulders, over his chest and sides and stomach back and forth up and down slowly and sensually. You even dare place your lips on his for a slow but feverish kiss. 

“I got you to warm me up.” He states cockily and you chuckle, brushing away a stray lock of hair when he goes in to kiss you but you stop him from doing so, thumb stroking along his cheek as you give him a pitied look. Your palm lays flat against his chest as you urge him backwards, until his legs hit the back of the rock carveout he lounged upon before. 

“So why don’t I?” Your knees on either side of his thighs burn into him like the fires of Avernus itself. You’re so close, you sit back on his lap so sweetly, that wicked hand between the two of you again and again he feels it dance over his abdomen, that familiar path lower and finally you show him mercy, to some capacity at least. You brush your fingers alone along him, over the tip and he moans your name. You do it again as his hands grip your thighs, nails digging into your flesh as you work him up. You kiss him, then his cheek and ear where your lips linger.

“Why don’t I warm you up…” Those words are like a blessing of the gods themselves. “Back at the camp.” The gods are cruel. 

You pull away entirely before he has a moment to respond or even comprehend what happened. You lift yourself out of the hot spring, shivers hitting you instantly but you’re quick to put on some clothes. Not your own clothes mind you. It’s his shirt you throw on over your own, and just as he had feared, you are dressed quickly, take your belongings, take the firewood and leave not but his boots, his own coat and the blanket. Thank the gods you left that blanket. 

“You are a cruel, cruel creature.” It might as well have been a curse but you relish in it as you look at him so indifferently. You lean down when he turns to you. You kiss his crown and back off along the path you had taken here. 

“Come find me at the camp.” You blow him a kiss and wander off. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He calls after you. 

“Shout any louder and the others will come looking for you. Think about your dignity.” You tease back equally loud. 

“Oh you know I never had any dignity to begin with.” He retorts and the only reply of yours is your clear laughter. Molly is not upset. If anything he’s smiling. Sure you did him dirty, worked him up all nice and good but it’s not like he hasn’t done the same to you a thousand times before. It never gets boring. He loves you for a good reason. You always know how to keep him on his toes. 

[fantastic-rambles]

Fandom: Durarara!!

Characters: Izaya Orihara, Shizuo Heiwajima, Others (mentioned)

Warnings: PTSD, Physical Disability, Mindfuckery, Dehumanization, Attempted Murder, Implied Suicide Attempt, Obsession

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: [Post-Canon, light Izaya novel spoilers] Izaya remains haunted by the memories of the last time that he saw Shizuo, and in the still hours when everyone else is asleep, he reflects on the climax of the relationship that they shared. [Written for Shizaya Week 2023 | Day 2: Nightmare @shizayasweek]

- - - - - - - - - -

"I-za-yaaaaa!"

He bolts awake in a dark room, his heart racing, the cry of a monster still echoing in his ears. For a moment, he thinks that he sees a silhouette in the corner, the gleam of a white dress shirt… but no, it's simply a set of clothes laid out neatly on a hanger.

The glow of the clock on the side table tells him that it's a little before 6 am. Still a little too early for the sunrise, then, but Izaya isn't going to be able to fall asleep again anytime soon, so he pushes himself up to a sitting position before maneuvering to the edge of the bed so that he can ease himself into his wheelchair. As he manipulates the controls, it glides smoothly around the room, its machinery nearly whisper-silent. Which is only to be expected: it's the best that money can buy, with plenty of custom modifications, as even in his self-imposed exile from Tokyo, Izaya is still a man of means.

Opening his bedroom door is another struggle entirely, though. Briefly, he considers calling for Sozoro or even Nec—the hacker is probably awake—but he doesn't want anyone else to see him right now.

Eventually, he manages to tug the door open, rolling back quickly enough to not catch it on his chair, and leaves his room with a mental note to have Sozoro replace the door with something easier to open. Something that opens outward, perhaps. It’s not ideal: a sliding door would be the best, but the old man would probably balk at the sort of construction work needed to completely remake this place to Izaya’s needs. Besides, they’ll abandon this place soon enough when they move on to the next one where their services are needed, so it doesn’t make sense to spend too much time altering it.

Or perhaps he could just have Sozoro take off the door. But the last thing he wants is Haruto bouncing into his room while he’s asleep or busy to ask “Izaya nii-san” to play with him. Himari does her best to keep the boy away from him—not out of any consideration for Izaya himself, but in an attempt to keep his influence away from her little friend, which is quite endearing—but Haruto can be quite persistent. No, he still needs a door. Just a better one.

As he pours himself some cold barley tea in the kitchen before settling down at the dining table, he remembers replacing other doors. Too many of them, smashed down by inhuman strength. It was his fault, of course, for provoking Shizu-chan, but how could he not? It had simply been too entertaining, watching the monster prowling among his beloved humans as if he could be one of them and occasionally ripping off his mask to show everyone what he really was.

He’d only been one step away from achieving his goal, sending Shizu-chan past the point of no return while the Valkyrie he'd summoned brought him to Valhalla… but his little co-worker had ruined everything, leaving Izaya crippled and haunted by the ghosts of their interrupted showdown.

It isn't that he wants to die. If it was just that, Sozoro would probably be more than happy to end their contract and finish him off himself. It's not even that he believes in some sort of afterlife, really. It's simply a more appealing idea than just disappearing. But if he could leave some sort of permanent mark on the world, one way or another…

He'd intended to win. He still remembers the heady rush of euphoria as he watched the monster fall to its knees as it slowly suffocated. If he'd eradicated Shizu-chan from the earth, then it had to change somehow. There was no way that life would have been able to simply continue on as if nothing had happened: it was as preposterous as people ignoring a meteorite that had carved a crater into the heart of the city. His absence would be felt, remembered, passed down in legends like the Headless Rider. And Izaya would have been the one who'd done that, his own name and story eclipsing both Celty and Shizu-chan's.

His drink ripples in his cup, drawing his attention to the slight tremor of his arm. With a grim smile, he wraps his fingers around his wrist, tightening his grip until he's regained a semblance of control. Recalling their fight is making his heart start to race, just as it had when he'd realized that Shizu-chan had escaped his trap. But that had been alright, too.

In that moment, the other man had really seen him, been just as determined to kill him. They'd faced each other without any pretenses, only the purity of their feelings unfettered by any worldly concerns, just like the first time they’d met. Izaya had barely even felt his injuries at the time, captivated by the pure rage and violence before his eyes: no longer human, but a natural disaster in its own right.

If he had been consumed by that storm, it would have never been able to pretend to be human again. Izaya isn't sure what would have happened, but he knows that much. For all that Shizu-chan has done, for all that he hates himself and his strength, he's never killed anyone. It's the last thread to being "human" that he clings to desperately… even if it was just Izaya, his death at the other man's hands would have snapped that tether, sending Shizu-chan plummeting down to his own personal hell.

After that… would the Fighting Puppet of Ikebukuro disappear, drowned in its self-loathing? Would it finally renounce its claim to humanity and become more than a monster: a demon or a god, free of the flimsy chains of human morality that only bound it as long as it allowed them to? Shizu-chan has always frustrated him since he's the only thing whose actions Izaya can't predict. Even though he wouldn’t have been able to see the ultimate outcome, he would have left an indelible mark upon Shizu-chan, carved into his very soul. He would have been remembered by the one being that could be expected to be the last one standing when everyone else was erased from the face of the earth.

It had been his only chance. Because it's just as Simon said: Izaya's a coward. He'll never again find the courage to face Shizu-chan. It has nothing to do with the wheelchair, with the legs that could work again if he started rehabilitation.

Even if he lies to everyone else, he knows the truth. All he's doing is running away. And he'll keep doing it until the very end.

[themculibrary]

Doctor Strange: MoM Masterlist

Cold & Drained (ao3) - Anonymous G, 425

Summary: you know the scene in MoM after America learns to control her portals and comes to get Stephen and Christine? That but fluffy

Easier Said than Done (ao3) - Orange_Sunsets christine/stephen T, 1k

Summary: Christine returns to her Earth and has to deal with the destruction that was caused. She soon realizes that there was more that happened that fateful night, unknown to her because of her attempt to free America. She's soon left to process what happened, and everyone, including her, is left to pick up the pieces.

*Takes place after Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness*

Finding Family (ao3) - aparticularbandit M, 374k

Summary: When America begins universe-hopping again to try and find her moms, she realizes that's too much scope for her. She looks for smaller scope, and instead she finds Wanda.

forgiveness is warm (like a tear on a cheek) (ao3) - lesbiantahani wanda/natasha M, 25k

Summary: Maybe after everything, she'll always feel like this. Who was she without love, who will she be? Wanda doesn't feel like crumbling for the thousandth time, she wants for once, to not grieve. When her fingers scrunch the fabric atop her thighs as she tries to anchor herself, it doesn't work, because Natasha was better at doing that for her. Natasha was better for her with everything.

-

or, post multiverse of madness, wanda reconciles with her guilt.

i dream of you (do you dream of me too?) (ao3) - Linzerj G, 2k

Summary: It starts with a dream, shortly after she first meets Doctor Stephen Strange.

(Peggy Carter of Earth-838 dreams of a version of herself that has travelled the multiverse, saved the multiverse, and made friends with a... very strange version of Stephen Strange.)

I Said I Would Never Fall Unless Its You (ao3) - coolpointsetta tony/stephen M, 112k

Summary: “It took me a long time, but I realized my situation wasn’t entirely hopeless,” Strange’s voice was gaining confidence, bit by bit. “In my scouring of the multiverse, I realized that Christine Palmer wasn’t my destiny, but he was. It is written in the fabric of every universe, it is set in stone: Stephen Strange and Tony Stark are meant to be together. No matter where they begin or where their journeys end, they are meant to love each other…”

His voice trailed off a little as he became absorbed with watching his variants dance with different versions of Tony. The looks of happiness on their faces made Wanda’s heart break and her resolve crack, and she was beginning to understand more of where he was coming from.

“But Tony Stark is always destined to die.”

In Every Universe (ao3) - MagicalTear tony/stephen T, 16k

Summary: Tony Stark had been working for the Illuminati for years, doing his share to make the world a safer place as he worked alongside Earth's strongest heroes. He had his inventions and he had Stephen, and for a moment everything was perfect...until it wasn't. Until the Illuminati tore Stephen from his side and left him with a hollow heart.

The last thing Tony expected was for the multiverse to come knocking on their door so soon after Thanos' demise, throwing none other than Stephen Strange at his feet once again. He might have been a genius, but he was not equipped to handle a magic book chase, a teenager in distress, and one mad Scarlet Witch.

Perhaps it was time for Earth 838 to go through some changes.

(Or...grab the second half of Multiverse of Madness and make it IronStrange)

my name is whatever you decide (and i'm just gonna call you mine) (ao3) - thelilacfield wanda/vision E, 3k

Summary: She let herself forget the rightness of this, caught up in her dreams, in the broken memories and the fractured realities, burning the world down around her with the Darkhold at her fingertips.

She let herself lose him, and in this moment he’s hers again.

Please Let it Be True (ao3) - Airene G, 3k

Summary: When Stephen turns away, eyes crinkling in fondness and smirk soft near the edges, America tries her best not to call out to him again.

She succeeds. Surprisingly. Instead of calling out to him again, probably with some useless quip or lame excuse to stall for time, she watches him leave through the portal he opens and clamps down on the disappointment that surges through her almost immediately when it closes behind him.

//// Misunderstandings occur, but they get it figured out

The Space Between Us (ao3) - KVeronicaP christine/stephen T, 3k

Summary: This was a mistake, bringing her into the New York Sanctum.

"Wait a minute, okay?"

His hand lightly brushed Christine's forearm, and she gave him a quick nod. The very idea of Christine of Earth-838 being there eased some of the tension in his shoulders, though it did nothing to bring his heart back from his throat. Wong's gaze boring into him didn't help either. This was an exceedingly stupid idea.

"I... I ask for one day."

-

In which Stephen of Earth-616 cannot let go of Christine of Earth-838. Or, alternatively, how two souls find a way to bridge the space between them in one hell of an incursion without endangering their universes [tripartite fix-it fic]

They'll Have Someone To Care For Them (ao3) - entity9silvergen reed richards/susan storm, christine/strange, past steve/peggy T, 34k

Summary: Earth 838 had a Wanda.

Reed had met her. He knew her. All of the Fantastic Four, all of the world's heroes, did. That was why Reed had truly believed the Illuminati could take her. This Wanda may have lost her way a little bit with the loss of her children but she was still Wanda. She was fundementally good and she could be reasoned with.

At least that's what Reed thought until he saw Black Bolt's head explode.

Why Did You Save Me? (ao3) - kittyhazelnut G, 1k

Summary: “I opened the Darkhold, and I have to be the one to close it.”

“We can close it together.”

[thistledown-au-warriors]

fire and ice - chapter 28

< Chapter 27 || Index || Chapter 29 >

The weak rays of the setting sun threw long shadows across the clearing. Fire Heart limped over to Sand Storm and silently pressed cobwebs onto her wounds. The ginger molly had been relieved from her guard duty by Pale Tail. Violet Fang had asked Fire Heart to help Stone Pelt with patching up the more superficial wounds, and the healer apprentice had insisted he take care of Fire Heart's wounds before they got to work. Tiger's Claw had taken the rest of his unscathed raiding party in search of fresh-kill once the apprentices returned with their mentors. The apprentices had, ironically, mostly trained battle moves that day. 

Fire Heart's stomach growled.

Sand Storm chuckled. "The herbs awakening your appetite?"

"Absolutely not." Fire Heart spat the rest of the poultice he was chewing on his paw as he spoke. "They taste pretty horrible and dry."

"Yeah, yeah.  I was just teasing you." Sand Storm rolled her eyes.

As Fire Heart applied some broom poultice onto her scratches, he noticed that the warrior molly had a more peaceful demeanor than she'd had since Blazing Cinder's accident.

"Is Blazing Cinder feeling better?" Fire Heart asked carefully.

After a pause, Sand Storm answered. "... Yes, I believe. I really should have talked to her sooner. It weighs on me that she felt like this at all…" She took a deep breath. "... But I'm done letting my own feelings keep me from being there for her."

"I think it's good for you both." Fire Heart furrowed his brow. "By the way, I just remembered something. I became acquainted with Hop Step, the WindClan deputy, when we went to rescue WindClan."

"You?" Sand Storm looked at him, eyes round. "You were just an apprentice!"

"Well, we exchanged some words, it's not like we're friendly. But he remembered me at the Gathering. I was thinking of asking him or Bark Face about his foot."

Sand Storm's face lit up. "Oh, of course! Hop Step limps, but still became the deputy of the fastest Clan!" Then her expression became troubled. "I am not fond of asking another Clan for advice like this, though. It could show weakness if they know."

"Healers share treatments, don't they? Plus, we can't keep Blazing Cinder away from the other Clans forever. She'll go to a Gathering sooner or later." He pointed out.

Sand Storm began to speak, but the sound of pawsteps cut her off and they both looked. Dusty Earth and Swift Bird returned from their burial duty.

The two toms padded over to Blue Fur, who was sitting beneath the Highrock with Rose Fall. Fire Heart pushed himself to his paws and walked over to join them. 

“We’ve buried Claw Strike.” meowed Dusty Earth, disgust lacing his mew.

“Thank you.” Blue Fur replied. The ThunderClan leader looked directly at Swift Bird. “You may go.” The black-and-white apprentice dipped his head and headed for his den.

Tiger's Claw and the hunting party trotted into the camp at that moment, carrying plenty of fresh-kill. Blue Fur looked at them, and pushed herself up the Highrock, calling for the Clan to gather. Fire Heart felt relieved when he saw Gray Stripe appear from the warriors’ den. He hadn’t left the camp after all.

The Clan gathered around the edge of the clearing. Elders and queens sat with the apprentices on one side, Fire Heart waited with the warriors on the other. 

The last arc of sun glowed pink on the horizon. The Clan waited silently as it dipped out of sight, leaving the darkening sky pricked with stars.

Blue Fur began to speak. "I wanted to make sure you all know that Broken Tail is in the camp.” None of the cats uttered a noise. They knew already. Only a few cats hadn't been in the clearing for the decision, and were quickly informed. “He is blind, injured, and harmless.” A few cats snorted their displeasure, and Blue Fur nodded to acknowledge their fears. “I am as concerned as you are for the safety of our Clan. But, StarClan knows, we cannot turn him out to die in the forest. Violet Fang will nurse him until his wounds heal. Once they have, we’ll discuss this again. Rest assured, if he steps out of line even once, this arrangement will be addressed sooner.” Blue Fur looked around, listening for voices from the crowd, but no cat spoke, so she continued. "Tonight, a battle has been won. The Clan shall feast. It has been a long day and we have reason to be proud of the cats who defended our camp against the rogues. Sand Storm, Fire Heart and all the others fought bravely. You are great warriors, and I commend your initiative and skill. I'd also like to congratulate young Bracken Leaf for his bravery and speed. I’m proud to count you as members of my Clan.”

Despite their concerns, the cats meowed again, happy to have won a battle and finally avenged Broken Tail's attacks. Fire Heart’s looked around the crowd. Only Tiger's Claw and Dusty Earth eyed him with hostility, but for once he felt untouched by their jealousy. Blue Fur had praised him, and that was enough. Bracken Leaf seemed to be shy with all the attention, stuck between his usual good posture and making himself smaller.

One by one the cats stepped forward to take some of the fresh-kill Tiger's Claw’s party had brought. Fire Heart began to follow Sand Storm, but noticed Stone Pelt sitting away from the crowd grooming himself. He wasn't sure if the large tom had gotten his scratches looked at yet, and turned to Sand Storm. "Can you pick something for me? I'll check on Stone Pelt." 

“Sure.” Sand Storm shrugged. "Don't take too long, though!"

"I'll be back in a couple rabbit-hops!" He called to her, racing to Stone Pelt.

The healer apprentice looked up at him as he approached and greeted him with a slow blink. Fire Heart noticed a small blood crust in the back of the tom's head right away. "Do you mind if I take care of that?" He pointed with his tail to the injury.

"Oh, not at all. It was stinging a bit now that you mention it." Stone Pelt meowed, laying down to make it easier for the shorter Fire Heart to reach.

Fire Heart licked the wound clean, and quickly used a bit of leftover poultice and cobwebs on it. He assumed that wouldn't usually be necessary, but with how mangey the rogues had been, he wouldn't be surprised if their claws carried infection. 

Stone Pelt twitched his ear and sat up. "Thank you, Fire Heart. I'm just glad they didn't take another piece of my ears. Only true warriors can take one." He twitched his whiskers with amusement.

Fire Heart purred in response, then inquired. "Aren't you going to join the feast?"

The gray tom shook his head. "I'm waiting for the crowd to die down. I need to speak to Blue Fur." He hesitated, then looked Fire Heart in the eye. "I have resigned from my position as healer apprentice. I'm resuming my warrior duties tomorrow." He announced.

Fire Heart stared at him in shock. Stone Pelt had been the healer apprentice since before he joined ThunderClan, he must have been close to becoming a full healer. The tom had always seemed happy with his position, and had worked diligently after their return from WindClan despite mourning Leaf Spots' death. 

Stone Pelt seemed a bit uncomfortable by Fire Heart's silence, but he continued. "I know it's shocking. But… I never fully fit in, I think. Working under Leaf Spots was always pleasant, she was a close friend of mine and I loved her company dearly. However, I must admit I became her apprentice due to selfish reasons. You must've heard the gossip about me being her apprentice."

Fire Heart thought for a moment, then remembered how Gray Stripe had once told him that many cats thought Stone Pelt had actually become Leaf Spots' apprentice to be close to his crush, who could never take a mate herself. The ginger warrior frowned in concern. Surely those rumors couldn't be true? "I've heard some things, yes." he meowed.

The former healer nodded. "They're untrue, but not unfounded. The thing is, I became a healer apprentice so I would never have to take a mate."

"What do you mean?" Fire Heart asked, blinking in surprise.

"I… had always understood, for example, that Leaf Spots was very pretty. But I didn't know why cats made that to be such a big deal. My parents were never very affectionate to each other, and broke off their relationship while I was an apprentice, although they remained friends. I guess that helped me not understand what that kind of love was. You know, romance." he looked at his own paws. "When Mossy Patch and Brindle Face were becoming mates, I got to see what that kind of relationship was. And… I didn't get it, not completely. Cats would tease me around that time, asking if I had an eye on anyone yet, things like that. But I never did. It felt… bad. To realize I was different. It got to me. Misty Step is never too affected, but I'm not like that. So I decided to become a healer, because I thought maybe my lack of interest in mates meant I should take that path."

Fire Heart flattened his ears. He knew what being different was — he wasn't clanborn. He and Cloud Tail got overly cruel comments frequently, and Fire Heart's feelings of isolation led him to seek comfort in his kittypet sister behind his Clan's back. He'd made some questionable decisions to satiate his need to feel accepted. Unexpectedly, he also thought about Gray Stripe. His friend had endured bullying as well just for being Fire Heart's closest friend, hadn't he? Could that have influenced his choice to start seeing Silver Stream?

Stone Pelt's words took him out of his thoughts. "Leaf Spots said I had a good memory for herbs, and dealt with injuries well. But I've never handled sickness and death as gracefully as she did… or as Violet Fang does. It always took a lot out of me, seeing cats suffer from illnesses… and losing my loved ones." he sighed. "Violet Fang said that my spirit got hurt from these things gravely, and not all cats could handle that. She said I should consider whether I could find strength to face all this grief moon upon moon, until I join StarClan. That there's no shame in taking the path that won't make me suffer. I decided to think on that, and I stayed to help her with the bout of greencough, but it helped me realize — no. I can't do this. I wouldn't mind helping, but I can't sit and watch ill cats until I die. I don't even have that much of a connection to StarClan to begin with, I've never gotten a sign. Having Leaf Spots with me gave me strength before, but without her... this was never my path, and I realize that now." 

Fire Heart nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm… glad that you found your way, though." 

Stone Pelt shot him a grateful look. "Thanks. I imagined you'd understand." Then he tilted his head. "You know, sometimes Leaf Spots talked about you. You had an interest in herbs not many do, and also learned how to handle poultices and cobwebs well for Violet Fang. She said you had potential, if you chose the path of a healer instead of the one of a warrior. If you ever decide to ask Blue Fur to become a healer apprentice again, I'll stand by you. She has little reason to refuse now that I'm a warrior."

Fire Heart stared at Stone Pelt. His mind began to fill with a buzz. He'd resigned himself to do as his leader wished and serve the Clan as a warrior. "She won't want to hear of it again." He blurted out.

"She will, if Violet Fang and I ask her to reconsider. Misty Step would stand by you, too. She cares a lot, even if she doesn't show it much." Stone Pelt meowed with certainty. "Do consider it." 

Fire Heart got to his paws and quickly nodded, throat tight. He hurried to the fresh-kill pile without thinking, then realized he had already asked Sand Storm to grab something for him. He glanced over the clearing, and noticed her sitting with Dusty Earth, White Flower, Willow Branch and Black Leopard. He wasn't ready to join them yet.

Thinking quickly, Fire Heart collected a vole from the fresh-kill pile and carried it to Violet Fang's den. The old molly was sitting inside. She’d been at the meeting, so she must have come straight back afterward. He was glad she was here - her abrasiveness would keep him from feeling overwhelmed inside this den after the conversation with Stone Pelt.

“I hope that’s not for me.” she growled as Fire Heart approached. “I’ve already had my share.”

Fire Heart dropped the vole on the ground. “I brought it for Blazing Cinder.” he answered. “I thought she might want something. She wasn’t at the meeting.”

“She was doing her exercises, and is resting now. I’ve given her some mouse meat, but you’re welcome to give her that as well.”

Fire Heart looked around the fern-shaded clearing. Broken Tail's brown fur was just visible through the stems of the bracken nest. The warrior was not moving.

“He’s still asleep.” Violet Fang's tone was brisk, the voice of a healer rather than a mother. Fire Heart couldn’t help feeling relieved. He picked up the vole and carried it to Blazing Cinder's nest. “Hey, Blazing Cinder.” he meowed softly into the bracken.

The gray cat stirred and pushed herself to a sitting position. “Fire Heart.”

Fire Heart stepped through the fronds and sat in the small space beside her. He dropped the vole at her paws. “Here.” 

“Thanks.” The apprentice mewed, and dipped her head to take a bite of the vole. "I was starving." She seemed worn out.

"Looks like you're doing your exercises on your own now." He commented.

She nodded drowsily. "It hurts a lot. I don't know how I'll sleep." Blazing Cinder commented, chewing. "But I want to be walking better so Sand Storm can take me to the forest."

He smiled. Her energy had dimmed out, but was beginning to burn again. "Will you ask Violet Fang for a poppy seed if it gets too bad?"

She grunted in agreement as she tore another chunk of meat. He purred in amusement, then stood up. It was time he went back to Sand Storm. He turned to Violet Fang, looking between the two mollies. “Will you be okay here with Broken Tail?” he asked.

Violet Fang gave him a disdainful look. “I think we can manage, don’t you, Blazing Cinder?”

“He wouldn’t dare cause trouble.” she agreed confidently. 

Violet Fang padded out of the den, and Fire Heart squeezed out after her. “Bye, Blazing Cinder!” he called.

“Bye-bye, and thanks for the food.”

“No problem.” he meowed. He turned to Violet Fang. “Have you got anything for this bite on my neck? Stone Pelt stopped the bleeding, but it hurts.”

The healer looked closely at his wound, removing the layer of cobwebs. “Looks like a nasty one.” she growled.

“It’s from Broken Tail." Fire Heart confessed.

She nodded. “Wait there.” She padded quickly to her den and returned with a bundle of herbs wrapped in leaves. “Can you manage them yourself? Just chew them up and rub the juice into the wounds. It’ll sting, but nothing a brave warrior can’t handle!”

He held back a grimace at brave warrior . “Thanks, Violet Fang.” Fire Heart picked up the bundle in his teeth after sniffing at it. "What are these?"

Violet Fang blinked. "Chervil leaves, goldenrod, oak leaves. I'm not trying to poison you."

Fire Heart almost dropped the bundle. "No! I just… Like to know what they are… and what they do." he murmured through the bundle of herbs.

The healer eyed curiously, but said no more. She led him to the tunnel entrance. Fire Heart looked at her. "I know about Stone Pelt." He mumbled.

She looked at him. "So he told you. I figured. Stone Pelt told me about your interest in being a healer." She sighed. "I'm tired of training apprentices, but I can't be the ThunderClan healer forever. Some young cat needs to take this job from me." Her orange eyes met his. "Don't feel pressured, though. Being a healer is a difficult path, as you've seen. You have to consider it carefully."

He nodded gravely. He gave a last wary glance at where Broken Tail lay, then said his goodbyes to Violet Fang and brushed through the ferns.

Outside, he nearly bumped into Misty Step, who was sitting by the entrance. "Hello, Fire Heart." she mewed. "Do you have a moment?"

He nodded, but shot a glance at where Sand Storm was sitting eating with the others. Misty Step didn't follow his gaze, but seemed to catch on. "It will be quick." she added.

The warriors padded a couple tail-lenghts away from the healer's den, then sat down. Fire Heart dropped his bundle by his paws. 

Misty Step looked at him straight in the eye. "Good job with the battle today. You and the others defended the camp well, but I hear you are the one who noticed the danger first."

"Thank you, Misty Step. I did what I had to in order to keep my Clanmates safe." Fire Heart wanted to look away. Her gaze was too intense. 

"Yes. I'm sure this will also help with your popularity with the Clan." her face did not change as she meowed, but her tail tip was twitching. "I've been hearing many things since you brought Cloud Tail to camp."

Fire Heart winced. He remembered the day Misty Step took him aside and offered to be Fire Heart's listening ear if he had any troubles. But instead, he had looked for help outside the Clan, in his kittypet sister, and blindsided his whole Clan by bringing her kit back. "Thanks for your help that day." he meowed quickly. "I really do appreciate it."

She blinked slowly. "Of course. Cloud Tail didn't deserve to suffer because of other cats' choices or prejudices."

Other cats' choices… Fire Heart swallowed. "Misty Step… Are you upset that I didn't tell you about Princess? My- my sister?"

The warrior's eyes narrowed slightly. "No. It's your right. If anything, you can understand now that your actions have consequences that may not prove themselves favorable, even if you mean no harm." Misty Step finally looked away, her chin slightly raised so she could look at the Starpath above. "I do understand, though, how confiding in me may not seem appealing. It's hard to trust a cat you can't read." she paused, closed her eyes for a moment. "I noticed you had been to Tallpines more frequently, about the same time I realized what Gray Stripe was up to." Fire Heart inhaled sharply in surprise, but she didn't pause. "I did not know for sure that you were visiting someone, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was bringing you some peace and you kept doing your duties diligently, unlike Gray Stripe. I must confess that I wanted to confront you sooner, but I figured you'd talk about it on your own time. Then you brought Cloud Tail to us and well… I must confess I began to question your judgement." Fire Heart looked down at his own paws. Misty Step continued. "Still, I don't share the Clan's thoughts on kittypets, I trained you. I just wished you went about it differently."

He nodded slowly, feeling like an apprentice again. Misty Step had known it all along, and kept his secret. But he had still let her down. 

However, she didn't just know about that, that wasn't important anymore - the whole Clan knew. But they didn't know about Gray Stripe and Silver Stream, and Misty Step did. 

"I managed to talk to Gray Stripe." He meowed quickly. "He agreed to only meet her at Fourtrees."

Misty Step seemed visibly relieved. "That's already an improvement." she looked away. "I suppose you should know more about me. It's only fair, since I know so much about you. It should go both ways." She looked down at her paws, and began to trace around a frozen pebble on the ground with a claw. "My littermates and I got curious one greenleaf and tried to swim to cool down. My mother found us out pretty quickly, and got angrier than I'd ever seen her, and told us we should never go near the river ever again." she paused, her eyes far away for a moment. 

Fire Heart stared at her as she kept going. "One day, moons after, I snuck into the river again. And that's when I met Silver Stream, a brand new apprentice." Misty Step twitched her whiskers. "Instead of confronting me, she seemed amused by seeing a ThunderClan warrior trying to swim, so she stood there giving me tips. I asked her if she wasn't afraid to get in trouble. Silver Stream said she wasn't because her father was the leader. Which didn't impress me much." Misty Step looked at the forest. "After that, though, we spoke at Gatherings or border patrols often. We kind of bonded on our shared experiences with cats expecting things from us due to our parentage, although Silver Stream seemed more like she was too spoiled to be too concerned." Misty Step scoffed. "On a couple occasions, when we were alone at our sides of the river, she gave me swimming tips again. I can swim fine when the river is calm. Silver Stream says my pelt is good for it." she sighed, then looked at her paws. "She can be insufferable, but I'd say we're close, considering we're from different Clans. Maybe if I'd been more firm with that stupid kit, she wouldn't be so lax about borders now."

Fire Heart thought about it for a moment. "I think Silver Stream would do whatever she wanted no matter what."

The older warrior let out a chuckle. "You're probably right." She lifted her head and tucked her paws beneath her tail. "You should probably not keep Sand Storm waiting any longer."

"Right." He picked up his herb bundle, and turned to leave. Before walking away, he looked at her. "Misty Step… I'm grateful that you were my mentor."

She met his gaze, eyes softer. "I'm happy to know that. I'm glad that you were my apprentice."

His eyes shone. He dipped his head, then turned and bounded up to Sand Storm, paws lighter than they'd been before.

[starport-seven-five]

hi can I request Sylkius and Kiss 24 - in danger? Love your fics!

First of all THANK YOU SO MUCH 😍 and I'm sorry that this took so long! I have two more kiss fics to go after this, but I have other things I'm working on, as well, so it's all slow going. I hope this will be worth the wait.

--

“Well?” asks Sylvie, her expression serene, maybe a hint of ‘excited,’ as her gaze flits between them.

“Well, it's… um…” begins Loki.

“...Treacherous?” offers Mobius.

“Well, yes, but it's… kind of nice,” Sylvie counters, somewhat defensively. “Right?”

“Well, yeah,” Mobius tries. “It's just… hard to focus on that, I guess, what with the earthquakes and fires and, y'know, the knowledge that this world is literally gonna rip itself apart in…” he makes a show of checking his watch. “What, like, thirty minutes?”

“Sylvie,” Loki starts cautiously, “I know you're… comfortable with this—”

“Oh,” she interrupts, “I'm not comfortable.”

“No?” asks Mobius. “Not to make this awkward or anything, but then… why are we here?”

Sylvie shrugs. “It feels… good.”

“Good?”

“You're not running anymore,” Loki supplies, and Sylvie nods.

“Mmhmm. It's different now. But also…”

Loki smirks at her slightly. “The thrill.”

“The thrill,” she repeats, returning his smirk.

“Frickin’ Lokis,” mutters Mobius, more than loud enough for them both to hear, a fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Sylvie casts him a sideways glance, amusement evident in her gaze. “I wasn't sure I would miss it.” Her companions are silent, listening with warm curiosity. “But I needed to see what it's like now.”

“And?” Loki asks cautiously, stepping in just a hair closer.

“And it's all different,” she says, drawing closer to them both, as well.

The earth beneath them is rocked by another explosive quake, and a crumbling mountain off in the distance shrinks even smaller with another loud crack followed by a rumbling avalanche.

Mobius winces.

Sylvie's still eyeing them both with an anticipation that's palpable, laced around the edges with danger.

A small aftershock, and Loki shares a nervous glance with Mobius as his magic sparks at his fingertips, at the ready. Mobius's eyes flit toward Sylvie's pocket, where their TemPad rests.

Another, and they stumble in against her as she slips one arm around each of their waists. There's a heat emanating from her, a buzzing aura that has Mobius's stomach in knots, and Loki’s mouth hanging open.

And then her mouth is on theirs.

Her kiss is hot, and encompassing, and unrelenting. Sylvie's fingers tighten and clutch at their hips, dragging them both in against her—grasping, possessing.

There's a loud crack overhead, and Sylvie feels them both flinch against her lips as she quickly moves her hand from Loki's side to inside her pocket, operating the TemPad with a long-since-perfected three short taps, and they're falling.

“Jesus, Sylvie–” curses Mobius, wheezing at her sudden weight on top of him. “A little warning, maybe.”

They're in their bed now, the danger left behind, but the adrenaline persists.

“No time,” she pants, lowering her mouth to his again and blindly grabbing for Loki, yanking him closer and working his tucked-in shirt loose from his belt.

Mobius can only grunt against her lips in response. Beside them, Loki laughs quietly, until he's stifled, too, by a consuming kiss.

--

So just know that in my mind, this leads to DP. 😅

And yes I'm considering writing a followup at some point. Maybe. 😉

[halemerry]

was going through old reblogs and updating some tags and realized I never shared this little ficlet on here

If he was being perfectly honest he wasn't quite sure what Crowley was going off about. Their conversations nearly always were long and winding and had a tendency to take them both on a meander through time and space to topics that were perhaps far less random than a casual observer may think. He'd gotten used to it, more or less, even grown quite fond of it over the years. But even he could admit here he'd lost the plot on this one.

In his defense, he'd gotten quite distracted.

Crowley was doing that thing. The same thing he'd been doing nearly every time they'd ever met over the millennium right down to that first fateful day in the garden. The thing where he was feeling so much all at once that his mouth could not keep up with his brain. He'd never met someone so… open before Crowley and, while he had no doubt the demon in question would fail to properly appreciate that assessment, it was something that spent millennia worming into the lexicon of Aziraphale's worldview with all the certainty of the Earth's gravity.

It had baffled him in the beginning. Now? It made some far more tender emotion catch in his throat instead.

Because no matter how hard he tried to seem cool and aloof, it seemed the poor dear couldn't help it. Aziraphale could read everything in the lines of him. There was a language written into each quirk of the brow, an honesty that bleed through in each dramatic gesture, a story etched into the lines of his face if you only knew how to look for it.

He had wondered countless times if Crowley even realized the way he offered so much of himself up so easily. He had wondered just as many, if he was the only one who had ever bothered to read what was right in front of him. How much time and energy had Crowley spent on making sure no one else could? What all had Crowley felt like he had to hide from him?

It was only when Crowley paused his rant that Aziraphale realized he had crossed into the other beings' space. The demon was fixing him with an odd look, his glasses doing very little to obscure his confusion and even less to stifle the wellspring of unbearable fondness caught in Aziraphale's chest.

The angel reached up, letting that tender emotion run untapped from its source deep inside of him, as he gently, carefully, pulled Crowley's glasses off his face. A blush bloomed brightly across his cheeks as his brows pulled together, the sharp edges of his demon's confusion giving way to a gentler sort of vulnerability.

"There you are," he said, letting his voice fall into the same nearly hushed tone he had used to say Crowley's name countless times before. The one that meant far more than just the name that so often contained it. His own way of being just a little vulnerable in return, when that was all they could afford to have. They could afford better now. Centuries later, he could finally put words to what that tone had always meant something a bit like 'I missed you'.

Crowley, growing ever redder, spluttered nonsensically for a moment, eyes shifting to and from Aziraphale like he was too bright to look at for too long. Then, once he'd managed to get his brain in order, he let out a weak breathless sort of laugh, "I'm right here angel."

How to Ground your demon 🐍🧡

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

i wanna share something that I wrote while I was m-shifting. I honestly think that its super cool, and is such a good way to become more aware on how you can feel m-shifted, and understand it for yourself.

(Hey there's blood, guts, dead animals, killing animals, and it talks of animal sickness in here. Wouldnt recommend reading if these trigger you in any way.)

The cougar watched the rain drip through the stone of her small hideaway. She had curled up for the morning in this small crevice, and water dripping from the trees above had awoken her from a dreamless darkness. The leaf litter was cool on her paws, surprisingly dry under her. Rain overcame her sense of sound, but she could still hear past and deeper into the trees, where the bushes rustled and tiny paws skittered across the stone and moss. Squirrels, foxes, birds. The tiny heartbeat of a mouse, tucked deep into the stones around her pounded and pounded on. The air was wet and was full of the smell of herself, and the rain. A draft of a passing transient and deer tickled her nostrils.

Stretching with a curved back, paws out and clawing at the bark on her territory, small scent glands between her toes caught on the tree, and the smell of herself covered the base of the tree. Rain slid down her coarse fur and back. It smelt of continuing storms, and the foggy air around her kept her locked safely away from others seeing her. Wind blew her scent behind her, a cloak of a warning to anything that was near.

But she wasnt hungry for small rodents, or fox, or carrion. Her kill had spoiled, and a bear had chased her off. But she had hid it so well, and was very careful to move it each time, perhaps the rain had rotted its meat and the stench. Her smell and the forest floor wasnt enough to hide it. She would just have to find more.

The cougar started at a slow pace, paws barely dragging in the leaf litter and bare dirt as she wound her way through the warm trunks around her. The fog helped both her to hide, but also her prey to hide. She had to rely on smell alone. The wind had shifted slowly, and the smell became stronger, much, much stronger. One was close. She could start to hear its breathing, and her mouth started to water already. An image of it lain dead before her, just like any other kill before, flashed across her mind. The rain beat harder into the earth, and she quickly ducked under a single bush. Running water filled her senses, and she found herself on the edge of a small stream. She was struck by an odd feeling, a feeling of wrongness watching the deer drink in the stream. Closer than before, she could smell it. Sunken eyes and flesh, she could see how sharply the doe's chest caved inwards between the hind bones and the long teeth. (hips and ribs)

Her soul yearned to make the kill, but her instincts told her the truth. The doe was sick. Its head dragged, its eyes milky, missing fur and stumbling. Dangerous. She would die to eat the deer. She had to return it to the earth. She stalked slowly forward, picking up her feet perfectly so no branch nor twig was disturbed. Her whiskers pushed forward, tail lifted, ears pricked and her senses attuned to everything around her. She could hear its breathing, and could sense the heat permiating the air around it. It turned away, hind legs splashing into the stream and stumbling, so she took her chance and lept for its hind. It was only an instant, but it was the most exhilerating and anxious time of the kill. Her instincts took her right to the neck, and her teeth inserted between the skull and disk right below it. Claws dug deep into its shoulder, they were falling together. The cougar's canines cut through the connection between it, and at that same time hit the ground, trapping her tail beneath it. Pain shot up her tail, and she hissed, looking around with her ears back until her eyes rested on her tail, trapped beneath the doe. She grabbed it by its scruff, and started to pull it out of the stream so the earth could accept the doe once again. Her fur was soaked now, and once pulled out of the stream she set to cleaning her fur. She was always driven to cover herself with the scent of her kill after she took it down, but this time it wasnt to eat, and she was too wet to continue on.

The rain had started to quiet, but the fog persisted as time went on. She had ripped open the kill, careful to avoid disease. She cleaned herself a second time, feeling the sickness waft onto her fur. She stood, and bounded off into the woods, following a long worn path of the animals. She needed to eat. A feeling rested upon her body, but was soon gone once she came across a herd of deer. It was quick, and soon she had a young buck beneath her, ears clipping on the antlers as she took it down. It was running for a ledge, faster and faster. She grabbed the back of its skull in her jaws, and with a sharp yank she heard a crack in its disks and its body collapsed. She was lucky to catch this kill - the inside of her chest was eating itself, and she dug in without any hesitation. Warmth brushed across her face once she ripped it open, and she quickly removed the grass snakes within the deer. They were organs, looked like organs, but they did not give nutrition to her, so they were removed quickly and dragged away from the deer. A fox, or something else would find it later and feast. Next was the grass pouch, same as the grass snakes - and finally she found the thick slab of organ that was darker, and was the only organ she ever looked for first. Humans called it "liver", but all she could focus on was her chest eating itself, and how she had to stop it.

Blood dripped down her whiskers and was covering her fur, and finally her chest stopped its consuming. She pulled the buck for a long time away from the ledge, until her teeth hurt and she could no longer see the ledge. Her paws then scooped up the forest litter, and she went to covering the kill from other animals. She yawned, and walked a little bit away, watching its resting place as she cleaned herself of both her scent and the blood on her fur. Darkness had overtaken the sky, and the clouds parted, the air dry but still smelling of rain, distant rain. She wanted to rest. She clawed her way into a tree, and settled on a large branch. She could feel her body relaxing and the flesh within her chest filling her body and making her warm. This was her home, and she would never leave this place. Darkness overtook her senses, and they faded away from her as her eyes drooped closed. She was drifting aimlessly in the darkness, and knew nothing more.

I donno, I just wanted to share that lol

[iliveiloveiwrite]

baby, baby, sweet baby // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Heyyyy! May I request an Anthony Bridgerton imagine where Anthony is a new dad and it’s really fluffy. I love husband Anthony as well as dad Anthony! - @elennox03 

a/n: Thank you for such a sweet request! This isn't overly long; a snapshot into Anthony’s life as a father. The lullaby I mention is Brahm’s Lullaby - something that Anthony wouldn't have heard but I couldn't not use it. Title: Aretha Franklin - Sweet Baby (inspired by a scene from New Amsterdam)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, marriage and children, female centric labels - mother, wife.

Word count: 1.2k

“He’s so small,” Anthony murmurs quietly, marvelling at the sight of his son in his arms. A small, pudgy arm swings out of the blankets; a tiny hand reaches for one of Anthony’s fingers, the fist wrapping around the digit, holding it ever so tightly.

You smile from your place by the bath, indulging in the sight of your husband already so devoted to his heir. “Your mother and I were certain he would be bigger with the way I was carrying. He’s still perfect regardless.”

“Just like his mother,” Anthony compliments, lifting his eyes from his son to meet yours.

“You’re a flatterer, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Only for you, Lady Bridgerton.”

You tut, rolling your eyes playfully at your husband. Anthony turns his attention back to the bundle of blankets in his arms. The pregnancy had come as a surprise, no real decision to have children had been made, but ten months into the marriage, you announced you were expecting. Anthony never expected his life to change so drastically within a year, but twice now had it happened.

Anthony freezes momentarily as his son fidgets in his arms. His heir stretches his arms, his lips puckering as he tries to decide whether sleep or consciousness would be better. To Anthony, it seems the former wins as his son falls asleep, slow, relaxed breaths leaving him.

“It’s time for his bath,” You murmur, pulling your hand from the bath, satisfied that the water was the perfect temperature for your child.

Still so young, bath times had quickly become your favourite time of the day. After his birth, Violet and your mother had stayed for the first month, helping you both fall into a routine with your son. They had been there for his first baths; showing you the best way to support his head as you cleaned him. After their departure, the staff had asked whether you would like help, but you had declined, wanting to keep the moment for both Anthony and you.

The staff didn’t need to know that Anthony still worried.

“Are you sure he’s going to be okay?” Anthony asks; his tone giving away the worry currently knotting in his gut.

“Would it help if you got in the bath with him?”

“What?”

“Get in the bath, Anthony. Hold your son so I can wash him.”

Anthony doesn’t waste another moment; handing you your child before pulling off his shirt, stepping half-dressed into the tin tub. The water splashes over the edge of the bath as Anthony gets settled; frowning at the feel of his breeches sticking to his skin, but he would do this for his son. He holds out his arms, waiting for you to place his heir into his hold. His son coos as you adjust him in your arms; the soft blanket being pulled away, leaving him vulnerable to the cold of the room.

His son is solid in Anthony’s arms; reminding him of the fact that he is indeed a father – he has an heir, he has solidified the Bridgerton line for the future to come.

The water soon grows cold. His son is clean, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, cooing softly at his mother. Anthony’s heart squeezes tightly in his chest as he watches you duck your head, rubbing your nose softly against your son’s nose.

Anthony reaches for his child; feeling more himself when he holds him than he does when his son is held by another. He hadn’t expected this strong paternal instinct; of course, he was protective over his siblings – particularly the youngers one, they hardly remembered their father and when Anthony prematurely inherited the peerage, he had no choice to step up as their adoptive father. However, the urge to protect and love his son rivals what he feels for his siblings. He didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as he loves you, but the moment he felt his son kick against your stomach, his heart had stretched – making room for the overwhelming adoration for his son.

He cuddles his son close, ignoring the cold now seeping into his bones from his wet trousers. Silently, Anthony rocks from side to side, watching you amble about the room, gathering your son’s nightclothes.

“That wasn’t so scary, was it?” You tease, an amused smile on your lips as you take your son from Anthony, letting him change into dry clothes.

“I’m your husband, you’re supposed to bolster me. Not make fun of me,” Anthony sniffs, crossing his arms.

“But you make it so easy, my love,” You laugh quietly, taking care not to disturb your sleeping son.

Anthony brightens at the use of the term of endearment. He would always be your love; you would always be his darling. He finds dry clothing in a nearby drawer, dressing himself robotically as he watches you bounce your son in your arms. Anthony’s eyes follow you as you wander the room, humming a lullaby, your voice gentle enough to soothe even the angriest of men to sleep.

“Let me take him,” Anthony whispers, doing his best not to disturb the sleeping infant in your arms.

Standing on your tiptoes, you reach up, placing a soft kiss onto Anthony’s cheek, jawline. “Fatherhood suits you,” You compliment, drawing away from the love of your life to change into your own nightclothes, ready for the day to be over.

“Motherhood suits you, darling,” Anthony returns, beginning to walk around the shared bedroom. Anthony smiles to himself when he catches sight of the faint flush to your skin; his words having settled within the marrow of your bones.

The room falls into comfortable silence as Anthony continues to walk around the room with his son in his arms. He hears the rustle of bed covers, your contended sigh as you slip underneath.

“Does he have to sleep in his own cot?” Anthony asks, breaking the silence as he glances between the lonely cot and the inviting bed.

“Both our mothers said it would best,” You murmur, following Anthony’s gaze to the off-white cot. Plush toys fill the corners, and a comfortable mattress covers the slats of wood holding the cot up. Yet, it looks so lonely and to leave your son there for the night… it makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“When have we ever listened to our mothers?” Anthony states with a quiet chuckle.

At his words, a large smile breaks across your face. You pat the empty side of your bed invitingly. “You’ve got me there,” You laugh, “He can sleep with us tonight.”

Anthony smiles as if he’s won the greatest prize on earth; it sets your heart pounding in your chest and briefly you wonder whether life would always be like this – your small family and the love so clearly obvious shining from your every pore.

The covers are pulled away; Anthony slipping under the covers, taking care not to wake the sleeping babe in his arms. His son is settled on the pillows between you; the both of you turning to face the infant, drawn to him. You place a single hand on the infant’s stomach, feeling the soft material of his nightdress.

It’s as if Anthony cannot help himself; he runs a finger from his son’s forehead to the tip of his nose, whispering, “Baby, baby, sweet baby.”

The baby stirs for only a moment before slipping back into his slumber filled with nothing but sweet dreams and happiness. Anthony meets your gaze over the slumbering body of your child; a smile break across his face, so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle from the force of it. Pure happiness displayed on his face as Anthony’s hand covers yours; pure happiness, pure love.

******

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