#i think this is the point in time where one curls up w the bucket of ice cream and the emotional support m c u movie

[lavender-bundle-blithe]

Wrong Tiger

“Hey… Midoriya?

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if it’s just me, or did your white tiger get bigger? Like massively bigger that it’s unheard of for a tiger to grow this big since this morning.”

Midoriya stared at his classmates before looking up to meet the tiger’s eyes.

“Midoriya, did you somehow lose your white tiger and unknowingly started taking care of another white tiger?”

“I-I don’t… know?”

“HOW THE HELL DO YOU NOT KNOW?!”

“K-Kaachan, I can’t tell the difference between two white tigers!”

“IDIOT! The tiger you took care of on day one is small and with blue eyes! This is twice as big and with yellow eyes!” Bakugou screeches, wildly gesturing at the large tiger while the lion he was taking care of and Uraraka look closer, a red panda perched on her head.

“Actually, there might be some purple in there.” she remarks, carefully outstretching a hand and yelping when the red panda took that as a platform and jumped on top of the tiger’s head. Before they could react though, the tiger simply jolted on the spot before not at all minding as the red panda played on them.

“At least they are docile!” Asui points out as she holds a bucket with a seal inside.

“Thank goodness for that,” Todoroki comments as he feeds his penguin another fish. “This reminds me of some stray news about a white tiger terrorizing towns and cities a few months ago.”

“Okay, that sounds terrifying.” Kaminari shudders, clutching the basket of baby chicks.

“Guys, this isn’t the time to be scared over old news,” Jirou points out with a snowy owl perched on her shoulder. “Right now, we have a different tiger in hand from the one Midoriya should be taking care of.”

“But how do we find a missing tiger? NOT TO MENTION where this one came from?” Kirishima asks as he leans against the rhino.

Midoriya frowned in thought and looked at the tiger who watched them with an observing eye. “Do you know where you are, where you came from?” he asks.

“Deku, are you seriously trying to copy Koda-?”

The tiger suddenly chuffs and moves its head elsewhere. They all turned their heads towards the entrance into the room.

“You… came from the entrance?” Midoriya tries.

The tiger lets out a quiet moan before shifting up to their paws. Leaning their head down, they transferred the red panda back to Uraraka and headed to the door.

“W-Wait a second, I don’t think you could make it through those doors!” Midoriya panics, making the tiger stop. “We can go through the gate! You want to go outside this enclosure?” he asks.

The tiger blinked before turning back around and gazed at the boy. He just stared back. “You… seem to understand me.” The tiger blinks again before ducking their head, ears lowered slightly. “N-Not that it’s weird!” He looks at the others.

“Guess we’re taking these guys to see the guests.”

---MEANWHILE---

“Atsushi-kun became small.”

Dazai, Chuuya, and Akutagawa turn around to see Kyouka resting a hand against a tiger that was a head taller than her, curled around and rubbing their chin against the top of her head.

“Huh, you’re right.” Chuuya remarks as they walk over. “Last I remember, the tiger kid is a lot bigger than this. Probably two-three times bigger?”

“And usually he wouldn’t want to keep this form on for much longer,” frowned Akutagawa, reaching a hand to pet the tiger’s head who chuffed happily under the attention. “Nor does he seek much affection.”

Dazai sighs in a fond manner, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. “My my, Atsushi-kun. I suppose us coming to the zoo would have done something.” He reaches a hand. “Now come on, stop playi—”

Dazai’s eyes snapped open to come into contact with soft fur, and… nothing else. Chuuya, Akutagawa, and Kyouka stare with wide eyes at the Dazai and the tiger, the brunet’s hand firmly planted on the tiger’s head all while the animal chuffed happily at the new contact and rubbed itself against his head.

“He didn’t change back.” Kyouka instantly snapped her head to give Dazai a blank but threatening stare. “Why isn’t Atsushi-kun changing back?”

Dazai just stared and pulled back and used his other hand. Nothing. No bright flash of light of No Longer Human canceling out Beast Beneath the Moonlight, no human under his hand, and the tiger just being happy in their company. And last they remembered, Atsushi woke up on his wrong side in the closet that gave him a bad knick in his neck, causing him further aching that he more or less brushed off, albeit with a grimace and a bad mood.

That was actually the entire reason Dazai decided to drag him invite him on a trip to the zoo, and may as well bring the two mafiosi and Kyouka.

“Wait a second, isn’t there a white tiger enclosure?” Chuuya asks, looking at them. “Do you think the tiger kid is able to sneak off and another tiger just started following us?”

“Or maybe one of the keepers mistook Atsushi-kun if he did turn into a tiger,” Kyouka suggests.

“Does this count as another Jinko-kidnapping?” Akutagawa inquires.

“Boy, your boyfriend is missing!” Chuuya scolds and promptly bonks him on the head.

“This zoo is massive, and it’s closing soon.” Kyouka adds.

“Guess we have to go and see,” sighs Dazai.

“YOU TOO, S--TTY MACKEREL! FOCUS!”

“Ow, ow, Chuuya!”

“Come on, move it! Gosh, are me and Kyouka-chan the only ones worried about this or something?! YOU TWO ARE HIS BOYFRIEND AND MENTOR, DAMNIT!”

“Aww, but we get to see you’re caring side more~”

“DAZAI-”

“You really have to stop provoking him, Dazai-san.”

“It’s mostly empty, guests are leaving because of the early closing.” Jirou said as she looked around.

“But that would be easier, right?” Midoriya asks.

“I guess,” hums Kaminari.

The tiger looked around, letting out quiet roars and sniffing the air.

“Hear anything?” Midoriya asks.

The tiger shook its head and pawed at its face, moaning and shaking its head more.

“Too many smells,” Todoroki suggests. “They must’ve come from somewhere else.”

“Hey, we’ll help you buddy.” Kirishima pets the tiger’s head, smiling reassuringly. “But I need you to be real with me; can you actually understand us?”

The tiger looks at him and looks at the rest who all looked back. Sheepishly, it nodded.

“Did you come with people from outside the zoo?” Midoriya asks.

Another nod.

“How?” Asui asks, confused.

“Are you someone’s pet? I feel like rich people are able to own tigers or lions or just exotic pets.” Uraraka whispers, staring at the tiger. Instantly the tiger recoiled, growling threateningly. “Not a pet, not a pet! Sorry!” she panics. “It has too much human sentience for a tiger. And to be fair, I don’t think anyone would want to be called someone’s pet.”

“That’s cringe,” Kaminari blurts out.

“But it’s odd that you can both understand us and respond as if you are a human.” Midoriya said, looking at the tiger.

“Ah, there you are Atsushi-kun!”

They all turn their heads to see four people also with a white tiger walk over.

“There you are!” Midoriya exclaims in relief, opening his arms and letting the small tiger barrel into him.

“Who?” Uraraka asks, confused.

“Atsushi-kun,” the short girl said, pointing at the large white tiger.

“You… named your tiger Atsushi?” Kaminari asked, confused.

“No no, you misunderstand.” the brunet smiles. “This tiger here is actually my mentee!”

“But it’s a tiger.” Bakugou glares.

“Nope!” He reached over and booped the tiger’s nose.

A bright flash of blue light caused them to look away, but when they looked back, there stood a young man with platinum blonde hair in one-sided choppy bangs, bi-colored purple and yellow eyes that could parallel ametrines, and a face entirely red in embarrassment.

“A-Apologies for all the trouble I’ve caused,” he bowed his head.

The students all stared with their jaws to the ground while the white tiger happily trotted over and nudged against him. They blink in slight surprise before smiling quietly and pets the tiger.

“W-Wait- What?” Kirishima asks, confused. “Is that your Quirk?”

“Quirk? Oh no, not that. Something different.” the man smiles. “But anyways! We shouldn’t keep you long, nor should we overwelcome our stay. Best we be off now!”

And with that the brunet ushers his group off. And calling over his shoulder, “And please do keep an eye on your little tiger! They’re quite curious creatures.”

At the mention, Midoriya looks to where he last saw the tiger only to see an open space from where it stood.

“Oh no, not again!”

(A/N): This helped my crossover brainrot, don't mind me-

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BBU Community Days

@bbu-on-the-side * {Day 3} Discipline

-

CW: References to foot whump, blood, brief noncon reference of like three words.

-

Farrah finally can take it no longer.

She collapses to the floor, heaving air into burning lungs, feeling her collar cut tight against the soft skin of her throat.

Knees that had been locked or bent at just the right angle, toes that had held every pound of her weight, the muscles that had quivered and trembled beneath her thighs and in the core of her stomach all felt suddenly, agonizingly liquid. Only her heart still felt strong as it pounded.

The music still played, Swan Lake, but this Odette had no dancing to do.

"My God, Farrah," Her mistress says in disgust. "Just look at what you've done, the mess you've made. Are you asking for even more punishment?"

Farrah's long, thick dark hair has long since come loose from the sleek updo that had only barely held it back. Mascara leaves rivers beneath her eyes and her eyeliner is smeared from her desperate attempts to keep sweat from stinging her blind. Her lipstick is gone, left in kisses to her mistress or worn away by the back of her hand. Her tongue darts out and tastes salt and copper. One of the blows must have broken skin.

She can barely think.

Still, she looks. She has been ordered to look. Farrah notes with some dim sort of surprise, beneath the throb of pain, that her feet must have begun bleeding during the routine.

She had made mistakes in the dance, too many mistakes, and been forced to dance over and over again in punishment until she could no longer stand back up after falling.

There are patches of red littered across the floor. Every time she went on pointe and inched delicately in a line to one side, she had smeared them. They followed her move like a trail, a shadow. A swirling half-circle, stamped little ovals right near each other. Droplets that had been flung in arcs when one leg raised high.

There is a bright red spot on the leg of her mistress's pants.

"Oh, no," She whispers. The perfection of the white dance floor is marred with these stains. The safety of her mistress's home, where she is kept from the dangers that lurk just outside the door, has been broken. Blood is everywhere, and it is all hers.

Her mistress's anger bothers her far less than the promise of more pain that comes with it. She is tired of pain.

Her feet suddenly come to life with a screaming hot wrench and she whimpers, then screams as she flinches and her calves and thighs feel flayed, curling over herself in her leotard and tights.

Now she can feel the damp inside her pointe shoes. Now she can feel the way they squish when her toes reach the edge, like she's been walking in water.

Dancing in blood.

"I... I am so sorry-"

"Are you, Farrah? Truly?" Her mistress snorts. "Does it ever bother you when something hurts me like your mistakes do?"

No, not really.

Not that she'll ever admit it.

Farrah keeps her eyes down, knowing that sometimes her eyes give away that she isn't simpering and weeping at her Mistress's moods like so many others. She even shakes her shoulders a little, as if she were sobbing and hoping to hide it.

Her eyes, beyond the sweat, are dry. She's terrible at crying. She stares down at a stain already going brown. "I'll... I'll clean it-"

"You will." Her mistress snorts. "I'll get you a bucket and brush. You're hopeless, Farrah. But at least you're nice to look at when I'm on you."

She turns away.

"Mistress, w-wait!"

The woman pauses. She seems so, so tall. And Farrah feels terribly small, and it angers her even more. "Yes?"

"I need... I need bandages... please."

"Clean first."

"I'll get blood everywhere as fast as I clean it!"

"Not my problem. Figure it out."

Farrah watches her go - or rather, watches her mistress's legs, shapely in the tight ponte pants she wears.

If she could learn how to cry, her mistress might be kinder.

But she's never quite gotten the hang of it.

Being angry, though... that she can do.

Farrah runs a finger through her own blood, and carefully draws two short lines up and down, a curving one below them, and two sharp angles off the first lines.

An angry face, staring back at her..

Farrah giggles at the sight.

[cielospeaks]

low self esteem strikes again! im suffering

[the-west-meadow]

would you do dialogue prompt 26 for kendall x reader? thank you :)

this is the last of the requests for now! thanks for being patient :)

Kendall Roy x Reader

prompt: It was you the whole time.

Sitting by the pool on the Roy family yacht, you watched from behind dark sunglasses as Kendall climbed into the hot tub with Naomi. Greg was stretched out beside you on the beach chair with a slender glass of champagne balanced on his chest.

“What do you think of this champagne?" he said. "I’m not sure it’s my favorite.”

When you didn’t respond, Greg raised his head to check on you.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, no. Probably too much sunlight and booze. Should I fetch a bucket?”

“No. It’s that.”

You jerked your head towards the hot tub, where Kendall held Naomi’s bare legs in his lap.

Greg sat up, squinting through the sunlight at them.

“Oh. That can’t be fun for you,” he said sympathetically.

You just shook your head, unable to speak. Greg crossed his legs, fingering the rim of his champagne glass.

“Here’s a thought. What if you told Kendall?”

“Told him what?”

“You know. How you feel.”

“There’s no point. He’s with Naomi.”

“Yeah, but… you know that’s not going to last. No offense to her. I think Kendall’s having a manic episode and he’s going to crash soon.”

“It’s hard to watch.”

“Honestly, I think you would be good for him. You keep him grounded, you know?”

“I don’t know… I’m not his type.”

“What type is that?”

You shrugged. “Rich.”

“Come on, fuck that. I know for a fact that Kendall respects you a lot. I mean, he’s never had an assistant for as long as you.”

“I’m just not in his league.”

“You’re right. You’re in a completely different league that he can’t even imagine.”

You glanced over at Greg, and he smiled encouragingly.

“Maybe," you said. "I just don’t know if I can watch the two of them much longer.”

“It’s pretty uncomfortable for me too. And I’m not the one with a crush on him.”

As if on cue, Kendall leaned across Naomi to kiss her. Greg looked at you in alarm, then stood up suddenly, grabbing the bottle of champagne.

“Let’s relocate. Okay?”

You stood up unsteadily, grabbing your own glass and draining it.

“Just get me the fuck out of here.”

Only when you arrived in your bedroom did you realize how much champagne you had consumed. You collapsed onto the bed with the room spinning slightly. Greg sat cross-legged nearby.

“Fuck," you said. "I’m drunk.”

“I was worried about that.”

“I want to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of the ocean right now,” he said gently.

You buried your head in your hands, suddenly overwhelmed.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you sobbed.

You were vaguely aware of Greg’s voice. You felt him get up, and when you looked, he was gone. You curled onto your side, burying your face into a pillow to stifle your tears.

Soon there was another voice in the room. You felt someone sit down on the bed, and a cool hand rested on your shoulder.

When you looked up, Kendall was leaning over you with a look of concern. The door was closed, and Greg was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on?” Kendall said softly.

“I want to go. Can they airlift me out of here?”

“Why don’t you sit up first, then you can tell me why you want to leave.”

With some difficulty, you sat upright with your legs crossed, facing Kendall. The words poured out of you, uninhibited.

“I’m going to fucking regret this later,” you said. “I’m drunk.”

“I can see that. What’s going on?”

“I can’t watch you with her anymore.”

Kendall fell silent. You heard him sigh.

“Fuck,” you said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He looked up at you. “Are you kidding? You have every right to say something.”

“It’s your life. You can fuck whoever you want.”

The sobs overwhelmed you once more. Kendall took both of your shoulders as you tried to hide your tear-streaked face.

“It’s not her that I want,” he said. When you glanced at him, you could tell that he was serious.

“What are you saying?”

“It was you the whole time.”

He tentatively wiped your face with his thumbs.

"You're the only one I really trust," he went on. "You've helped me through some of the worst times in my life."

“Then why didn’t you do anything?” you whispered.

“I didn’t know how you would feel about it. About me. I’m unbelievably fucked up. But you should know that by now.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said. Kendall laughed, and you managed a smile. Then he became serious again.

“Look, I haven’t told anyone this. But my dad doesn’t even want Naomi here. I have to send her home. So, there’s that.”

You nodded, and an awkward silence fell between you. Kendall’s hand inched towards yours.

“Let’s talk about it more when you’re feeling better. Do you mind if I stay with you?”

You shook your head, wiping your face.

“Come here,” he said, starting to lie down. He gently pulled you down with him. You lay atop the cool bedspread with Kendall at your back. You felt his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you close.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Of course,” you replied, sniffling. He brushed back your hair with his other hand, stroking your temple. You could hear his soft breathing, feel his warm body pressed against you. You closed your eyes, forgetting everything else. He was here now, and he would be there when you woke. That was all that mattered.

[televisionboy]

this gif is everything skdjdjfn and this is my first alphabet! so give me love and constructive criticism.

taglist: @punkgeekchic @visionsofsweettea @adoresobs @am4sawa @reblogsfandom @evarolines @somethingstuffy

Timothee Chalamet Fluff Alphabet

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Dates with Timothee are very very comforting and new at the same time. He LOVES getting out of the house and going to a city where shops are lining every corner and small cafes with coffee to die for. But he also loves to cook you dinner and rehash your days. He’s quite a domestic person.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Timothee finds all of you attractive. But his favorite thing to do is whenever you’re reading a book or the two of you are watching TV, and you’re at one end of the couch and he’s at the other end, he loves to run his hands up and down your legs while they rest in his lap. Drumming his fingers against your knees is like a calming thing

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He doesn’t talk, at all. He’s an incredibly patient boyfriend who will sit there with you and sync your breathing while hugging you. He will listen for hours and hours to you talk about it. And if not, he makes tea for you and offers cuddles and comfortable silences. I mean, either way he always makes tea.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He would love a family with you, he knows you’d be an incredible parent to his children. But he’s content being young, having new experiences and getting to be spontaneous. If he had to think about it, he’d like one or two children and maybe a dog. Living in a cozy but spacious home, of course there’s a pool in the back.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

well, when he’s in the mood, jealous/mad he definitely will be dominant (and especially in bed) but he’s in no way so dominant that you will feel like his maid or a child. But he really doesn’t want to consider your relationship to be that way. Both of you are just you and treat each other equally. 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He gets cold when he’s fighting with you. Timothee’s a bit like a younger sibling while fighting, he knows how to push your buttons and won’t stop until he see’s a reaction. But he has that guilty feeling wash over him so fast. He’s very very easy to forgive you because how could he say no to someone like you??

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

SO GRATEFUL. He spoils like no other. If you point out that you like a pair of earrings, they’re yours (it doesn’t matter that they’re pure diamonds) you mentioned that you want to see Italy? Tickets booked. And a great thing about him, on top of being a good listener is that he has a great eye. And he picks up on things and is quick to notice them. Which is a big reason he’s so successful in acting. Even if it’s something as simple as washing the dishes so he can relax, to something as kind as making him your very own fan gift.. he melts every time.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Mmm, he certainly tries not to but everyone keeps secrets. There are things that both of you prefer to keep private but he wouldn’t keep something like him kissing another woman a secret.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You’ve inspired him and fueled him to become a stronger actor even if you’re not one yourself. Some of your advice is seriously helpful, and some are unhelpful but hilarious. No matter what you will tell him, he knows you’re waiting at home or even at his set with open arms, waiting for him to win an award and fangirl online to other Timmy fans. It makes him blush and cause a billion butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He trusts you 100% that you would never leave him, and he doesn’t want to be one of those boyfriends who restricts their partner. But there’s a part of him that’s incredibly insecure and is convinced you can do better. There are some parts that WANT you to leave him and do better. He would never ever show it in public, but you can read him well. You’ll put a hand on his bouncing knee and kiss his jaw.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like? 

He knows he’s a damn good kisser as well as charmer. You had been on a couple of dates with him, on one you mentioned that it was on your bucket list to be kissed in the rain. He made sure to schedule a date when there would be rain and he took you on a picnic. Towards the end, it had started to pour and you were trying to run back to the car but he grabbed your face and kissed you so hard but so passionately. His curls were dripping and the sandwiches were ruined but the feeling was incredible. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Rightttt after that kiss, in the car you were drying off and laughing with him while the radio was on in the background. The car was on but he wasn’t driving. Instead, he turned to you and told you he was in love with you. Both of you had said “love you” but never “i’m in love with you”

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He’s on the fence about babies but he knows for certain that he wants to marry you. You know that scene in The Office where Jim shows the engagement ring for Pam and is like “I got it 3 weeks into dating”? That’s Timmy. 

He brings you to a premire of one of his movies and at the end when all the credit’s are rolling, it says “y/n will you marry me?” and when you turn back around, Timmy is on one knee and Armie is most likely behind him crying his eyes out. 

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

“Babe” “Baby” “Mon cherie” When you two are married, he’ll join you in the kitchen while cooking dinner and call you “Mrs Chalamet” before kissing your shoulder and beginning to chop veggies. It’s just incredibly domestic 

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

so so so obvious and so in love. He shows you off as much as possible and talks about you on talk shows until he’s sure that the audience is annoyed and SNL mocks him (and even then, he’ll continue)

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

he brags but he does know when to dial it back for your own privacy and humility. BUT that doesn’t mean he won’t hold your hand in public, or banter with you on a twitter thread even if you both are right next to each other on the couch playing footsie

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He has a great eye and is quick to pick up on things. It’s almost as if he has certain senses and can tell when you’re having a bad day or upset. He just knows. It’s incredible. He’ll run you a bath and order cake to indulge yourself in before you even get home.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

The most sickley, fluffy, romantic, boyfriend that it makes me sick. Timothee would dye his hair rainbow and cut of his toes if it meant you would smile. On a more romantic note, he pulls out all the stops but it’s a bit more subtle?? Like he is very romantic but it’s not overwhelming. There’s no string quartet and private dining room but there will be jazz and dancing at midnight or a homemade “restaurant” with Timothee as a one man (messy) staff but it’s the best thing you could have ever come home to

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He’s your head cheerleader and the most selfless human ever. Will cheer for you until his voice goes mute and even then, he’s the one clapping the loudest and crying the most. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

both! Timothee is like a dog in some ways. He’s energetic and needs new things, to be outside, to be social. But he craves hugs and cuddling, he adores late night talks with you or watching you make him breakfast while he scrolls through Instagram. Like I said, a very domestic guy.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He know’s you like the back of his hand and he could spot you with his eyes closed and only by feeling your face. He knows your habits, and the food you hate, your terrible cooking skills, and the kind of dad jokes you tell, the anxiety ticks, and what shows you’ll watch over and over again.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He’d go insane without you. You’re addictive because you have a pure heart and a dirty mind and he falls in love the more you show that. He brings you back the weirdest things that remind him of you. Stationary cards with odd quotes, an antique necklace from the 40′s, peach earrings (because he enables your teasing)

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He’s like the real version of “JOEY DOESN’T SHARE FOOD” but a little more loving lol “I love you, but I’m willing to defend my fries”

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

I said that he’s like a puppy! he needs kisses and scratches to his head (free scalp massage) and he’s a clingy puppy too. i mean, look at his eyes for the love of god. 

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

he aches so bad. He is your cheerleader but he can’t function without you. You’re his cup of coffee, an antidepressant. He’s fangirling inside for your new project but when he sees your mug or reaches to bring you close to his chest and you’re not there, he’s unable to fall asleep or make a cup of coffee.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’d travel to Mars and back if you asked him to. Just ask him, and he does it. One time, he was working on a movie with an actress who was quite snippy to you and he quit immediately, feeling incredibly guilty and nauseous. He got you very  expensive lox and bagels one morning because you were whining about it the previous night. He doesn’t want to close his eyes at night because there’s so many things he wants to do before he goes on to the next day. But when he closes his eyes at night, it’s all you, you, you, you, you and how much he’s overwhelmed with total adoration for you

[aenaxes]

penitence

[howzer x gn!reader] doubt is a powerful seed in the mind. also known as howzer lets the kid go, and the first person he sees afterwards is you.

warnings: (spoilers for tbb e11) mild gun/blaster injury, hurt-comfort

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: just a little lunch break drabble to christen the new icon hehe

“Don’t tell me the Syndulla kid did that.”

Howzer drags his feet across the threshold, bucket cradled under one arm as he carelessly brings his hand over the door lock. Swept messily to one side as if crushed by a fall, his hair flutters with the whoosh of recycled air as the dark steel slides shut behind him.

You are quick to meet him where he stands, his holster empty and shoulders dropped low. With him he comes bearing the telltale ashy singe of a single blaster shot over the upper edge of his pauldron. It’s stray fire at best, but you can already envision the bruise purpling under his plastoid.

Lifting your hands to the mark, you struggle over the sudden swell in your tongue: anger, panic, fear, the bitter taste of resentment that someone (even if it was a kid) saw him as just another obstacle, another piece of blaster fodder, no matter what side he was on.

“Howzer?”

He mumbles something that doesn’t quite meet your ears as he trains his eyes on the floor at his feet. And when you call his name one more time, he simply shakes his head.

“She didn’t do it,” he rasps. “I did.”

—

“You shot yourself. To make it believable that a civ girl half your size disarmed you and got away,” you deadpan, bringing the roll of bandage under his armpit and cinching it snug.

It’s about the fourth time you’ve repeated it, in part to process the whole scenario but mostly to emphasize how ridiculously stupid it was to shoot himself at near point-blank range—even if it was to save the girl. You pass the roll of fabric to your other hand and sigh.

“Threw the blaster down the canyon, too,” he mirthlessly snorts. Sarcasm does not curl over his tone, playful and teasing, nor does his voice carry the increasingly common sting of cynicism.

He just sounds… tired.

“Do you think Rampart’s really going to believe you?”

He hisses when you pull the bandage a bit too tight. But before you can meet him with a frantic flurry of apologies, Howzer brings his arms around your waist and pulls you close, crowding you into his space with little mind to how your touch, no matter how comforting, still crushes up against the bruise of his shoulder.

“Howzer—” you protest, but he shakes his head, his nose digging into the skin over your sternum.

It’ll make the bruising worse, that much you know. But who are you to deny him—both of you, really—the simple comforts of intimacy that have become so rare under the Empire’s shadow?

Pulling away just enough to tuck the long, free end of the bandage under its previous wrapping, you pause before you trail your palms up from his shoulders to the prickly undercut at the base of his head.

For the first time tonight, Howzer lifts his eyes heavensward, resting his chin on your chest so he can turn his dark eyes to you in full. There, you find the softest kind of yearning, for you, for respite, for that elusive speck of light that he can hold close and proclaim high. No longer is there that boyish charm he had shared so freely with the men of his company those long months ago, men now unreachable and hardened under that single, cruel order.

You miss it.

Howzer offers you a weak smile, then presses his brow back against your chest. And without missing a beat, you dip your chin low and press your lips to the crown of his head.

“Rampart knows I’m soft,” the captain mumbles, tugging you closer.

With your head bowed over him, you breathe deep and feel him do the same. He smells like the Ryloth dusk, crisp air chasing the sunlight’s heels, hearkening back to better days when dawn felt like hope, when war had an end in sight, hazy as it might have been.

“Was probably going to decommission me anyway.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, your lips moving over the dust speckled through his dark hair. Word after word, your voice follows his lead, matching the low, weary timbre of his lungs rising and falling against your chest before finally slipping under the ambient hum of the base around you. “You’re not a droid.”

“Is it bad that most days I feel like one?” he asks.

“Droids don’t whine when I can’t sleep next to them,” you counter with a soft laugh. Warmth spreads over the base of your ribs as Howzer huffs through his nose. Soft and quiet as it is, it is laughter. “Droids don’t laugh at their own awful jokes. Or wake up extra early to spend fifteen minutes putting pomade in their hair. Or get into the habit of sneaking up on me to stuff their cold hands down my collar, which by the way gives me palpitations, which—”

At that, the low-simmering tension finally breaks.

“Okay, okay,” Howzer concedes. His laughter rumbles against your skin.

And you take your invitation, playfully mussing your fingers through his hair as his laughter rises.

A rosy glow floods through you, swelling in your chest and creeping high to the top of your head as Howzer lifts his good arm and tugs you down to meet him. It’s an awkward angle, but it is no less sweet when you feel his dry, chapped lips press soft against yours. He murmurs unintelligible motions of affection, gratitude, that deep and indescribable loyalty that brings you close and binds you together. And you smile into his kiss.

For a while, you stay that way, your neck craned low as you cradle the base of his head and share slow, bated breaths over your tongues. You bear the ache in your shoulders a moment longer, then you press a slow trail of kisses rising from the crest of his upper lip, over the tip of his nose, higher, higher, until your lips meet his brow for one last, lingering touch.

Breathing as one, a comfortable silence settles between you.

Somewhere outside, you hear the birds croon their night song.

“Do you miss it?” Howzer asks at last, his voice little more than a whisper breathed over your skin. “Being the good guys?”

“We’re still the good guys,” you respond. “You and me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

When Howzer lifts his head again, you find it—that single blinking light of days past when his only concerns had been keeping his men safe and making it back home, to you—hope.

“You’re not just buttering me up so you can be romantic?” His voice rises light above the murky waters choked around his neck. But the doubt is there all the same, always, clawed into his shoulders as only he seems aware of the stark divide between duty and obedience.

As you card your fingers through his hair, you feel his hands tighten around your waist.

He will bruise; his shoulder will ache; he’ll roll out of bed tomorrow morning and pop his shoulder, only to fall back onto your sleeping form and wake you with a dramatic sigh as you flail under him.

But he will heal.

“I can make your bruise worse, you know,” you playfully narrow your eyes. But you can’t help the smile that curves over your lips when you catch the crinkle at his temples as his brows slope soft and find solace in you.

“You think so?” he teases.

“I know so.”

[buckleyblueyes]

Buddie + 47 "This is home?" 😊

Thank you for your patience, nonnie! I know this took me some time to write and post. Loved this prompt, though! This fic features an appearance by Taylor Kelly, and maybe isn't the most friendly towards her? idk, I wasn’t actively trying to write her to be a bad person or anything, but just in case I thought I'd throw a warning for people who like her/like her and Buck.

Buck yawns and leans back into the cushions of the Diaz couch. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. They were called to a grizzly pileup on the freeway just before their shift was supposed to end, multiple on scene fatalities, and more that they lost later, in the ambulance. He had a date with Taylor scheduled for after his shift, but he knew before the engine even pulled back into the station that he was going to have to cancel. Not just for himself and his need for rest and recovery, but for Taylor’s sake. He wouldn’t have been a good date in his current state. He texted her from the locker room that his shift had run long and he was going to head home and rest. She texted him back with a “I understand, get some sleep” and that was that.

He followed Eddie home, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and he wanted to see Chris, even for a few minutes before the boy had to go to bed. They exchanged hugs and Buck and Eddie both pressed kisses to the top of Christopher’s head. Ever since Eddie was shot--since he told Buck about his will, since Buck spent the summer living on their couch and taking care of both of them--Buck took on a more parental role with Christopher. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s undeniably true, and Buck loves it. The three of them feel like a family, are a family.

Buck showered at the station, but Eddie hadn’t. Eddie likes to take his time in the shower, making it into a sort of ritual where he scrubs off more than just the grime of the day, but the stress and trauma of it as well. He’s going to be gone awhile. So, Buck settles into the couch and pulls out his phone.

I know it’s not the same, but wanna FaceTime before bed?

Seconds later his phone lights up with the call. He smiles when he answers it.

“Hey, babe!” Her smile is bright and bubbly as always.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, forcing himself to keep his own smile up. “Sorry about our date.”

“No, no it’s fine…” Taylor trails off, blinking curiously through the screen. “I thought you said you were going home?”

Buck glances around the room behind him and frowns. “This is home?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what your loft looks like.”

“Oh,” His smile returns. Of course, she’s only been to Eddie’s a few times, she doesn’t recognize it from the bit of it she could see through FaceTime. “I’m at Eddie’s.”

Taylor’s confusion morphs into exasperation. “I should’ve realized.”

“You’ve only been here a few times, it’s--”

“No, I mean I should’ve realized you were blowing me off for him,” she snaps.

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m always playing second to Eddie, and I’m getting sick of it,” Taylor’s tone is huffy and irritated and Buck hates it. “It was one thing when he was still recovering. But he’s fine now, so why are you still spending so much time with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Taylor,” Buck narrows his eyes. “Of course I spend time with him.”

She scowls. “How can you be too tired for me, but be sitting on his couch?”

Buck runs a hand through his ungelled curls. “Look, our shift ran long and it was really rough. My therapist says I shouldn’t be alone during times like this, and I happen agree with her--”

“So why not be with me?” Taylor asks, tone shifting from anger to sadness.

“Because Eddie knows exactly where I’m at emotionally,” Buck sighs. “He was there, he saw what I saw. There’s nothing to explain. And he shouldn’t be alone tonight, either. It just makes sense.”

She frowns. “So, that’s it? I’m not a first responder, so I’ll never be able to understand like Eddie?”

His stomach twists. This conversation is starting to sound familiar. “It’s not--”

“How can I understand if you don’t open up to me?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s right, of course. He isn’t open with her. She doesn’t know about his childhood, or about Daniel. She doesn’t know about the nightmares that haunt him, doesn’t know about the waves and ladder trucks, gunshots and explosions. She doesn’t know any of it, and he has no desire to share it with her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at her phone half the time they’re talking, or the fact that they haven’t really talked about her willingness to put Bobby’s trauma on the news, but he still doesn’t trust her, not really.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’ve been shutting you out.” She looks hopeful, which makes Buck feel like a huge jerk because this isn’t about to go in the direction she seems to think it will. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like opening up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She looks so sad, and the part of Buck that’s terrified of disappointing people is two seconds from taking it all back, when she speaks again. “So, where does that leave us, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buck answers honestly. He doesn’t want to be single and lonely again, but he can’t deny any longer that Taylor isn’t right for him.

“I think you do.” She gives him a weak smile.

Buck blinks. Cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Buck, be honest with me, are you in love with Eddie?”

Whatever Buck is expecting her to say, it isn’t that. All at once it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He knows that he feels more for Eddie than could be strictly described as platonic, but he’s been avoiding those feelings for as long as he’s known Eddie. First because he thought he had Abby, then because Eddie was married, then because Eddie was grieving his wife, and then because they weren’t speaking to each other, and then because the pandemic hit and they had other things to focus on, and then because Eddie was dating Ana...It was never the right time, and he was always too afraid of losing Eddie, when he inevitably had to turn Buck down.

But Eddie changed his will, and Eddie broke up with Ana because “she’s not what I want” and Eddie let Buck stay here, for months, taking care of him and Christopher, and Buck knows in his core that he and Eddie are tied together, no matter what.

“Buck?”

He realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

She nods stiffly. “Right, well then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess we are.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor shakes her head.

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to say goodbye, but he’s cut off by a voice coming from the hallway. “You’re in love with me?” Buck looks up to see Eddie standing there in his sweats, hair still damp and dripping from the shower, brown eyes wide with shock.

Oh, fuck. “Taylor, I have to go.”

“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, Buck.”

“Bye, Taylor,” Buck swallows, setting his phone down on the coffee table. “How--How long have you been standing there? I didn’t hear the shower turn off.”

“Long enough,” Eddie steps forward. “You’re in love with me?”

“I--” There’s no point in denying. “Yeah. Is that...okay?”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Buck can think to say.

To say Eddie looks dumbfounded would be an understatement. “Is it--What kind of question is that?”

Buck shrugs “Well, y’know. I thought it might make things awkward.”

Eddie shakes his head and shuffles the rest of the way into the living room, so he’s standing right above Buck. “Awkward? Why--What--Like, at work? We’re adults, we can keep things professional.”

“Keep...it...professional…” Buck’s brain processes the words slowly, but when he finally does, his heart sinks. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Um.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, in almost the same movement Buck made just minutes earlier. “Obviously not.”

Buck feels numb. This is it. The end of everything. Just when he thinks he’s found someone who will stay. “W-What about Christopher?”

Again Eddie looks baffled. “What about Christopher? I think he’ll be happy we’re together.”

Time stops. Together? “Uh-Wh-Huh? Together? Like...together-together? Like dating? Each other?”

“Oh.” The confusion melts off Eddie’s face. “Buck. I’m in love with you, too.”

Buck blinks up at him. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles warmly. “I thought I made that clear when I broke up with Ana and kept asking you to stay, but I guess I should’ve known that I needed to be more explicit with you.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, you think? I’m only in therapy for my abandonment issues, it’s not like I have problems trusting that people want me around or something.”

Eddie leans down and takes Buck’s hands in his. “Evan Buckley, I am deeply in love with you, and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Buck grins, tightens his grip on Eddie’s hands, and pulls the other man down onto the couch, right into his lap. “How does forever sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Later, after they makeout on the couch like teenagers, after Eddie guides Buck down the hall to his bedroom, after they curl up in each other’s arms, it finally occurs to Eddie to ask. “How exactly did your FaceTime with Taylor end up with her asking if you were in love with me?”

Buck doesn’t open his eyes when he answers. “She asked why I wasn’t at home like I told her I’d be.”

“This is your home.”

Buck smiles and snuggles closer. “I know.”

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 4.4

"I don't feel any different," you answered Zhongli's questions as you examined your reflection in the mirror.  They had explained everything there is to know about the situation now.  My eyes...  Your fingertips touched the glass in which they stared back at you.  "Will my eyes return to normal?"

"As far as I recall my last encounter with this incident, no.  They will remain true to the eyes of their savior."

"But if Childe's joining us..."

"Just say you have contacts," Aether shrugged.

"Contacts?" You and Zhongli jinxed yourselves.

"Is...that not a thing in this world?" Your confused expressions gave him the answer he needed.  "They're basically...well...colored objects that you can put on your eyes.  They can be used to replace glasses or to change eye color."

"U-uh, okay..."

"Just say you got them from a merchant travelling from Fontaine.  They gave me a kamera device, so I'm sure these could fall under their expertise, right?"

"Perhaps," said Zhongli.

"I'm not sure I can do this."

"It's really not that big of a deal!" Paimon comforted.  "We can answer for you if he asks in front of us!"

"No, not that," you sighed.  "I'm not sure if I can pretend we're on good terms after Granny died.  I mean, he took the house from her and kept it all a secret from me."

"You won't have to," Xiao's voice came from the far wall.  "As long as you're the only one visibly suspicious, we can still make this work."

The team packed their essentials and left Quince Village.  Xiao said he had something to attend to, so no one waited for him.  That was until you passed by the cemetery on the way out of the village.

He was there, standing at your Granny's grave, with a bundle of silk flowers and glaze lilies in his hand.  You stopped alone in your tracks while the others continued to walk along the path, unaware of the rare sight of Xiao mourning a mortal soul.  His expression revealed nothing that was going through his mind as he placed the bouquet against the stone.

It was kind of...unsettling, actually.  The beautiful scenery coupled with a beautiful young man wearing a solemn frown as he stared at the rock in front of him; the rain clouds passing overhead having yet to release a single tear; the fresh flowers placed next to your wilted ones. A simple reminder that death was inevitable and that his death too, would also one day come to pass.  It was eerie, yet the sight filled your chest with a warm fuzziness.  He was paying his respects to a mortal that had no relation to him, but he did it for you.

You walked away before he had the chance to sense your presence.

............................

"Adeptus Xiao! And...you, Traveler?"  Ver Goldet's panic transformed into a slight confusion before she shook her head to refocus on the matter at hand.  She glanced around to make sure they were alone on the balcony of Wangshu Inn.  "I have some urgent news to discuss with you, Xiao."

"Say it."

Goldet glanced questioningly at you and Zhongli before continuing.  "T-there was a harbinger here."

"Childe?"  Aether shifted.

"No, no."  She shook her head frantically.  "Well, yes, but no.  Childe and another harbinger were here.  A woman."

"Signora?"  The traveler tensed, as did Paimon.

"What is she doing in Liyue?  I thought she still had business with Mondstat?"  The mascot shared a nervous glance with Aether.

"I think so," Goldet nodded at Aether.  "I didn't know what to do.  It's unusual that there would be two harbingers in the same area, especially out in the open like this.  I think a storm is coming."

Xiao and Zhongli exchanged worried looks before the adeptus spoke.  "I will look into it."

"Thank you, Xiao.  Let me prepare some almond tofu as a token of appreciation."

The yaksha noticeably perked up hearing this, and you choked back a laugh.  So adorable!  That thought had unknowingly reached Xiao, bringing a dusting of pink to the tips of his ears.  You were too busy gushing over him to notice.

Once Ver Goldet left for the kitchen, you asked the question that was on everyone's minds.  "Now what?"

"We stick to the plan," answered Xiao, though there was a subtle hint of concern in his voice.

"And you're sure you're not allowed to interfere?" You addressed Zhongli with furrowed brows.

"I formed a contract.  I cannot break it."

...................................

The adventure team was camping just east of Luhua Pool.  You were at the bank of the pool, gathering water in a bucket so that the group could use it to cook lunch.  It wouldn't be long before the team reached Liyue Harbor and rendezvous with Childe.  A shiver crawled down your spine every time you thought about it.

Can I really keep my temper in check when we team up with him again?  No...But then again, we usually butt heads every day.  Maybe he'd see it as normal?  You took the opportunity to scoop water in your hands and take a sip.  Mm, such a crisp feeling.  You gathered more, this time gazing into the water's reflection.

"What the f--!"  You scrambled to your feet and your sword was now in your hands.  "W-what the hell, Tartaglia?!"  Adrenaline fueled your thumping heart.

"Ahahaha! Sorry, sorry!" He chuckled loud enough to scare the nearby cranes away.  "And here I thought I'd have to travel further to catch up with you all.  It's been what, a week? It feels so long ago.  So, comrade, where is everyone?"

You readjusted your grip on your weapon and kept it pointed at him.  Your breath was uneven to the point of slight hyperventilation.  They're a hundred yards away from here.  Should I tell him?  Your eyes flicked behind the harbinger.

"Ah," he noticed your glance and peered over his shoulder.  "Well, did you need help with that bucket?"

"Stay back," you ordered through clenched teeth.  Your hands were shaking now.

"There's no need to point that at me," Childe's smile faded rather quickly.  He reached towards you--

"I said STAY BACK!"  Your shout was enough to scare the fish away.  

Childe raised his hands in surrender.  "What's gotten into you? Did something happen?"  He examined you carefully.  "And what happened to your eyes?"

"Hey!" Paimon and Aether waved at the top of the hill and interrupted the tension in the air.  "We were on our way to get you!"

The harbinger dropped his hands and turned around.  "Greetings! You should've seen the look on her face! I just about scared her half to death," he returned his gaze to you and his voice trailed off at the last sentence as if he were making a fool out of you for being so paranoid.  "Now then, I should take that for you."  He picked the bucket up and began walking towards Aether, his lips forming a frown once Zhongli and Xiao came into view.

You collapsed to your knees once the adrenaline left your body and your sword fell out of your hands.  One of them made their way up to your chest and clenched the fabric that covered it in an effort to calm your heartbeat.  He was here, and sooner than expected.  He could have struck you down if Aether and Paimon hadn't shown up then.

"Are you okay?"  Xiao appeared before you.

"Uh-huh," you inhaled shakily.  Your fear overshadowed your anger towards the harbinger.  Why you had gotten so terrified, you weren't sure.  "He came out of nowhere."

"He's dead if he lays a finger on you," Xiao muttered aloud.  He held his hand out, and you took it.

Late afternoon, early evening.  You were growing increasingly agitated at Childe's insistence of a fight.  "I'm not in the mood, Childe," you growled.

"Oh come now, ojou-chan! It's clear you want to fight me nooow," he cooed.  "I'll just keep annoying you until you decide to entertain me! And besides, I think you secretly want to take out your pent-up rage on me, no?"

You glared daggers at him.  "Oh?  And what do you think I'm angry for?"  You stomped towards him until you were looking directly up at him.

"Dunno," he shrugged with a smug smirk.  "Care to indulge me?"

"Fine."  You yanked your sword out of the tree stump you had stabbed it into.  "Come at me."

"Uh...should we stop them?"  Paimon twiddled with her fingers as she watched you resume a fighting stance.

"I-I don't know," Aether scratched the back of his head and looked to the adepti for a solution.  They just watched you in silence.

"I thought you'd never ask, ojou-chan," he licked his lower lip and rushed at you.  You ducked before his hydro blade could hit your head and slashed your sword at his torso.  Childe dodged and countered.  His weapon collided with yours above your head.  "Would you care to tell me why you suddenly hold a grudge against me?"

"Tch.  I'll pass."  You pushed his blade back and used the momentum to lunge at him.  He shoved you to the ground and pointed his blade at you.

"You've gotten sloppier," his lips curled into a sneer.  "Looks like we still have work to do on your swordsmanship."

"I'm just getting started."  You rose to your feet and readied your sword.

"Do not let anger consume you, comrade.  It will seal your defeat.  Instead, hone it as a weapon," he advised you as the two of you clashed for the second round.

"I don't need your advice!"

He twirled his weapon and gracefully disarmed you.  Your sword clattered to the ground a few feet away.  "It's clear you do.  I've mastered every weapon known to man.  If you think you can scrape by and conquer your foes without learning from me, you're wrong."

If it's his goal to get to me, then why train me?  You plucked your sword off the ground and stared at its hilt in your palm.  You caught the Xiao's reflection on the steel blade, and a strange light obscured your vision.  

Images upon images upon images.  Bloody battles.  The clashing of metal.  The hollow screams of daemons past.  The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of battle.  The overwhelming sense of dread.  An icy shock burst through your bones, and you suddenly felt wide awake and hyperaware of your surroundings.

"Again."  Childe resumed his fighting stance and thrust his weapon towards you.

The light blocking your sight faded and you instinctually sliced your blade through the air.  You parried his blow without so much as looking at him.  How did I do that?  You faced him and realized he was just as surprised as you were.

"Good," a spark lit his eyes up now.  He thrust his weapon at you again, this time at your head.  And again, at your side.  And once more at your legs.

You parried every attack, and with unmatched agility too.  Then it was your turn.  You turned the tables and began attacking him, less recklessly than you usually fought.  He eyed you carefully, dodging and parrying your sword, but did not strike back even when you were wide open.  Thinking and analyzing.

I never taught her these moves, he grit his teeth and sent an annoyed glance toward the yaksha.  How did he manage to improve her skills so suddenly?  He may have done endurance training with her, but I never once saw them practice combat.  He taught her this past week, didn't he?

"Not bad," Childe praised as he leapt back.  "You've been holding out on me, haven't you, ojou-chan?"  He took note of the predator-like look in your eyes, much like that damned yaksha's.

You swallowed your surprise and glanced at your sword.  These movements weren't my own.  They were Xiao's.  You sent a subtle glance his way, and noticed that Zhongli had a small smile on his face.  Xiao's expression was as unreadable as ever, but he was no longer crossing his arms.

"You shouldn't take your eyes off your opponent," the Harbinger swung his lance at you. You spun yourself downward and swept his legs from beneath him.  "Ngh!"  He landed on his butt and dropped his weapon.

"Who said I wasn't paying attention?"

Coming up next:  A harbinger’s interrogation, the hunt for teeth, and Dragonspine.

[crowtrinkets]

Just Come Home

Asra just wants his friends back.

Muriel Reversed ending spoilers!

A short sad fic cause I like pain apparently. 

Gender Neutral Apprentice/ Asra POV (Ends where they show up in Muriels ending)

Word Count: 1,398

The last time I saw them was in the midst of a crowd, after Lucio was, killed panic swelled in the coliseum causing a influx of people screaming, running, trying to get out. I tried to find them, my apprentice, my Muriel, but they were no where to be found.

No sooner after Lucio died, the walls and limits between our world and the world of the arcana began to break and form into one. We didn't realize it at the time but there always has to be a devil. Always. And we all collectively made the mistake of allowing Lucio to die. Inanna managed to escape but I didn’t see where she went, if I found her we could have tracked them together. 

After a few hours I met up with Nadia, Julian, and Portia. We later learned a group of people drove them out of town. Blaming them for the disasters that are now plaguing Vesuvia, plaguing the world.

I tried to reach out to Muriel and my Apprentice with my magic, hoping they sensed me. But I was always ignored. I even sent Faust to look for them in the forest while I searched Muriel's hut at one point, but they were no where to be found.

After weeks of trying to call out to them, Nadia told me she heard of a large man and a magician in the south, killing creatures from the arcana realms for coin. It had to be them.

"Asra! Asra where are you going?" Julian's voice called out to me as I stormed out the palace.

"I'm going to find them Ilya," I say without a second glance. Julian's hand grips my arm and I swing around to glare at him.

"Asra we don't even know where they are! And people are still rioting do you think bringing them back would be safe?" his eyes plead as they stare into mine. I let out a deep breath. 

"Fine... But I won't rest until we find them," Julian gives me a warm smile, he grips my hand, but I don't return the comfort, I can't focus on this right now. I pull away and head back into the palace, Julian at my heels.

---

We spend months, writing letters to neighboring cities and towns, asking if they've seen our friends, but every time we get close they slip away. It's hard to tell where they're heading next because so many monsters appear in so random of places. It's like finding a needle in a haystack. Julian and I continue to grow distant as the months go by. He keeps making an effort but my heart aches too much for my oldest and dearest friends. We continue to search, to run from monsters, hide from disasters that are too strange to be considered natural. Endless rain, flooding, earthquakes that go on for what feels like hours

One day Julian and I make a stop in a town, we rent a room in an inn for the night. Allowing our weary bones to relax just for a day. I sit on the bed, letting out a sigh, Faust curls around my shoulders and onto the floor, making her way to the fire place. It does little to heat this dark room as wind whistles through it's cracks. Julian settles himself on the bed next to me. He places his hand on top of mine but I pull it away. He looks at me, hurt in his eyes.

"Asra, please if I did anything to make you upset-"

"You didn't do anything Ilya," I mumble out. I feel my chest tighten, I shift my gaze away from his. "I feel... hurt, without them,"

"We all feel their loss Asra,

"They aren't dead," I snap. I feel my eyes well up, gripping the bed sheets I take in a sharp breath. "They aren't dead, and I intend to find them before they get themselves killed,"

"They'll be fine," Julian gets to his feet.

"How could you possibly know that?" I look up at him, finally meeting his stormy eyes. Julian looks back at me in surprise. "They're my oldest friends Julian," he winces at my use of his other name. "I can't live without them," my voice begins to choke up, but I refuse to let myself cry in front of him. Julian gives me a somber nod, he grabs his coat and heads for the door. He stops before leaving and looks at me over his shoulder.

"We can leave, first thing in the morning," without another word, he leaves our room, closing the door behind him.

I let out a huff and fall onto my back on the bed. Bringing my arm over my eyes I let my tears fall slowly. I don't make any cries, the tears just fall silently, as though my emotions have built up too much and they are now escaping through my tears. A dripping sound interrupts me. I wipe the tears from my eyes and sit up. Looking in the corner scanning for the source of the sound I spot a bucket, catching water leaking through the roof. An idea strikes me, maybe I can talk to them if they're near a source of water. I run up to the bucket, pulling it away from the leak so the water isn't disturbed. Crouching on the ground I cast my spell, reaching out with my magic to find their auras.

A minute passes and when I finally open my eyes, I see them. There are trees surrounding them, Muriel is sat on the ground, my Apprentice standing at his side, it seems like they are cleaning a wound on his face. My apprentice reaches down into the water to rinse the cloth they were using but they stop when they spot me.

"Asra,"

"Oh! Muriel, -," before I can finish Muriel gets up and stalks away in the other direction. My apprentice lets out a sigh.

"What are you doing Asra," they turn to face me once again, a weariness takes over their expression. They look tired.

"We've been looking for you, trying to get your two to come home..." I try not to sound desperate with my pleading in fear of scaring them.

"Asra.. we have no home there, we were driven out... and besides I don't think Muriel is ready to go back, I'm not ready to go back,"

"No, w-we can fix it! And you're always welcome back, please just come home, come back to the shop... I miss you both, we all do,"

"I'm sorry Asra, it's not possible," They wave their hand and suddenly their image is gone. Leaving me alone. The howling of the storm outside, muffled behind the walls. I bring my head into my hands and begin to sob.

---

Many months pass and they repeat the same cycle. Julian and I make out way in one direction, and come up with nothing. We go back to Vesuvia, and are sent back out by Nadia to find them. It goes on and on until the one year mark passes. A year since I have seen my dearest friends. Julian has become nearly a whole different person. He doesn't crack jokes, he doesn't charm his way through trouble, and he seems to avoid my affection whenever possible. It doesn't bother me, my one goal is to bring my friends.. my family back home. Maybe I've changed as well.

After making our way to the south, Julian and I hear rumors of Muriel and my apprentice popping up in a town, something about a creature killing off livestock. We stalk our way through the storm that pours down on us. Struggling to stay upright against the rain. We finally make our way into town and spot a Inn. Julian and I look to each other and give a nod. We approach the Inn, swinging open the door, my breath hitches. There I see them. My Apprentice looks up at Muriel, their hand over his chest, their eyes look sad and distant. But I can see the love they still have for Muriel as they look at him. Muriel places his hand on top of theirs and looks at them fondly, but the familiar painful expression he used to have sits behind his fondness. Without waiting a second longer I make my way towards them. 

[tennessoui]

OOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For the prompts - childhood best friend au bc i’m a sucker for them

- tealbluemagic

ah yikes i had thought and scripted like....two more scenes of them actually growing up (16/20 and 22/26) in my head dialogue and all but suddenly this was 2.3k because once again i was worldbuilding my cares away RIP!! palpatine was supposed to be the evil adviser it was gonna be great sad days.

2. Childhood best friends AU (medieval, fantasy, royalty AU--whichever term conveys the absolute zero amount of fact-checking that I have done)

They meet when Anakin is seven and Obi-Wan eleven.

Anakin’s tutor wants him to write lines. Again. According to the man, his letters do not look kingly enough.

Thank the gods that he set him to work and then left to flirt with the chambermaid. Otherwise, he probably would have had something very mean to say about the lack of kingliness that is required to climb out the window and down the ivy creeping up the castle.

Anakin lands on his feet and looks up in time to see his tutor’s red face in the window. “Prince Anakin!” The man yells, but no one is around to grab at him and he’s a very fast runner, even at the age of seven. He takes off to the gardens, laughing in joy at the freedom of it all.

Through the gardens and at the edge of the grounds are the stables. He’s not allowed to go there yet, because he is so small and the horses so big. It’ll be the last place they’ll check for him.

Anakin bursts through the doors and runs headlong into another boy, knocking him clean off his feet and into a pile of straw.

“Hey!” The boy shouts, shoving Anakin harshly off of him, face turning almost as red as his hair. Anakin blinks stupidly up at him as he rises and puts his hands on hips. “Who do you think you are?”

“I come seeking shelter and refuge as the prince of the kingdom of Tatooine,” Anakin blurts out the phrase he’s been taught to say should he ever find himself in danger in a new land.

Both of the boy’s eyebrows go up, and he looks scared for a second, which Anakin doesn’t understand. He’s much bigger than Anakin is and he’s still standing all angry over him. If anything, Anakin should be the one scared.

“Uh. Okay. Yeah, you can stay,” the boy says, backing away and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Just please don’t tell anyone I shoved you, your um highness. I need this job.”

Anakin lifts his hand so the boy can help him up, but the other boy doesn’t do anything but stare at it with a furrowed brow. “You may help me stand,” Anakin prompts him.

“Shouldn’t be touching no prince,” the boy mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “People can get killed for less.”

“Well, I want you to help me,” Anakin says, glaring at the boy who’s being very stubborn and silly right now. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

The boy looks skeptical, but takes his hand in his.

“What’s your name?” He asks him as he brushes off his fine clothes.

Now the boy just looks reluctant, but he must know better than to disobey a command from his sovereign, even when the sovereign in question is a child, because he crosses his arms over his chest and mumbles out, “Obi-Wan, milord.”

“I’m Anakin,” Anakin says, even though the boy probably knows this. It’s still only polite and his mother has always told him that being polite is one of the best things a prince can be.

“Yeah,” the boy says. Maybe his mother had never given him the same lesson. “I have to get back to work now, milord,” he turns before Anakin dismisses him, which is quite unheard of. Maybe Obi-Wan’s never been to court. Judging by the state of his clothes and the dirt on his face and beneath his nails, Anakin decides that’s probably true.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asks curiously, following behind the boy. It’s just he doesn’t meet a lot of boys his age and sure, this boy seems a bit mean and certainly at least a little uncivilized, but he still let Anakin stay.

“Shoveling horse shit,” Obi-Wan says. “Would you like to help?”

Anakin wrinkles his nose. “What’s up there?” he asks, pointing to a ladder as they pass it.

“That’s where we keep the hay. And it’s where I sleep.”

“You sleep here?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond, but his cheeks grow a dull sort of red.

Tactfully, Anakin changes the subject. “What else do you do?”

“Feed the horses, brush them, put them out to pasture, call them in, brush them again,” Obi-Wan lists. “When a nobleman wants to ride, I tack up their steed for them.”

A horse blows out a breath, right near Anakin’s face and he flinches, clinging onto the back of Obi-Wan’s shirt automatically. “And they let you?” he asks, trying to sound like he isn’t frightened.

“They don’t have much choice,” Obi-Wan says, smiling a bit as if something is funny. “Bit of a luxury around here, choice is.”

“What happens if they don’t?” Anakin asks, deciding to not let go of Obi-Wan’s shirt. Any proper gentleman or lady would have offered to let him hold their hand by now, but Obi-Wan is rough around the edges. Anakin finds that he doesn’t mind much.

Obi-Wan casts a look at him from the corner of his eye that Anakin doesn’t know how to interpret. “They get whipped.”

Anakin gasps in shock. “That’s so barbaric!”

The other boy snorts and shakes his head, as if Anakin is just too dumb to understand. “What are you doing here, little Prince?” Obi-Wan asks as he finishes dumping a pail of water into a horse’s bucket. “Why're you running?”

“My tutor was being absolutely awful,” Anakin replies with a pout. Obi-Wan hums, grabbing a shovel from where it’s leaned against a wooden door and carrying it to an empty stall. He follows him, wanting a proper response from the other boy. All that writing had been hurting his hand! The tutor is so unfair and mean and evil, and Anakin deserved to be treated with dignity and respect!

He tells all of this to Obi-Wan as he paces in the tight space of the stall, the other boy occasionally making noises to show he’s listening as he goes about his work.

“I don’t know what sort of problem he has with my letters! I know all of them now! Isn’t that enough?” Anakin asks angrily, crossing his arms. He’s tired and wants to sit down, but it smells poorly here. Maybe he can convince Obi-Wan to go to the ponds with him?

But Obi-Wan pauses, leaning against the handle of his shovel to look at Anakin. “You shouldn’t be complainin’ about getting to learn to read and write,” Obi-Wan says and then hastily tacks on, “milord.”

“But I don’t like it, and I shouldn’t have to do things I don’t like,” Anakin protests.

Obi-Wan smiles in a funny way. “You think I like shoveling shit, do you? But someone has to do it.”

“Are you saying that someone has to read and w--”

Obi-Wan interrupts him loudly. No one’s ever really done that before.

“I’m sayin’ that reading and writing is a...a privilege, milord.” He says the word privilege like he hasn’t ever said it before, like someone had said it around him and he’d memorized the sound and played it back in his head every night.

Anakin pouts, and Obi-Wan must see the look on his face because he softens his voice when he speaks again. “There’re...people who would kill for a teacher and they got none. If I was you, I wouldn’t ever leave my lessons early.”

Anakin crosses his arms. “But you’re not me. And I get to do whatever I want.”

It’s like a wall comes up between them. “That’s a luxury too, milord,” Obi-Wan says, turning away. “Excuse me. I need to work.”

The way he says this makes it clear that he doesn’t want Anakin around him anymore. “Fine!” Anakin snaps, face pulled up into a scowl. He pushes past Obi-Wan as hard as he can, hoping he can make the boy fall again, and leaves the way he’s come.

How dare the little stable boy try to correct Anakin’s behavior, when he’s the one with dirt all over his face!

He storms back to the castle and is in a horrifically terrible mood the entire rest of the night, right up until he goes to bed. Obi-Wan doesn’t know anything about anything, Anakin tries to reassure himself. He should have never met him.

He flips onto his side in bed, scowling even harder when his eyes alight onto the practice papers his tutor had left for him.

In his mind, Obi-Wan’s words repeat even louder. If I was you, I wouldn’t ever leave my lessons early.

Anakin rolls away until he can stare up at the ceiling.

He’d wanted a friend, but Obi-Wan clearly hadn’t wanted Anakin there at all. He wouldn’t have made a good friend at all. Anakin should just forget him.

But he can’t. He wants Obi-Wan to like him, although he can’t understand why or how to proceed.

He flips back to face the room again, too restless for sleep.

Inspiration strikes quite suddenly, making him sit up in his bed.

There’s one thing he could do that would make Obi-Wan like him. But there’s no time to waste.

He hastily dresses in his discarded clothes from yesterday and grabs two of the books on his desk. There’s a leather satchel hanging from his wardrobe that he’s never used before, but it’s the perfect size now. He slings it over his little shoulders and leaves as quietly as he can.

It’s a dangerous but relatively short journey back to the stables. The gardens look much scarier at night, but Anakin is being so brave about it. He’s on a quest. He clutches his satchel to his chest at every jumping shadow, but he makes it to the stable door and then through it.

The ladder he had pointed out earlier is a few steps into the barn, past two stalls. The horses look much scarier now that he’s here alone; their eyes seem to glow in the dark. He scuttles past them and grabs at the first wooden beam. Obi-Wan. He’s doing this for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, who is asleep among the hay, just at the top of the ladder. He’s curled up beneath a couple of blankets. He looks angry even in his sleep.

Anakin crawls forward and shakes him awake.

“Wha--” Obi-Wan jerks up.

Anakin clutches his package to his chest and sits cross-legged in front of him. “It’s me!”

“What?” The other boy asks, rubbing at his eyes. Anakin pouts. Has Obi-Wan really forgotten him in such a short period of time? That’s hardly fair, considering the fact that Anakin has not stopped thinking of him at all.

“It’s Anakin,” he says. “I came back.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asks, squinting at him in the light of the moon that filters through the single window.

Anakin pouts harder. “I brought my stuff,” he says. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea, not even an hour ago, but in the face of Obi-Wan’s incredulity, Anakin only feels stupid. He pulls out the books anyway. “I thought. Well. That maybe I could teach you.”

Obi-Wan sits up all the way at this and bends forward to study the covers, although Anakin is sure he doesn’t understand the letters written on them. .

“Teach me?” Obi-Wan asks.

Anakin huffs. This is going to become quite a tedious conversation if all Obi-Wan does is repeat fragments of what Anakin says. “To read and to write.”

“Why?” he asks, but different than he had asked before.

He doesn’t think because I want you to like me would satisfy Obi-Wan now, and even Anakin knows it’s a rather weak explanation.

“Because...you want to know,” Anakin settles on saying, “and my mother always says that a king should do what he can to satisfy the desires of the kingdom.”

“Oh well,” Obi-Wan scoffs. “If the Queen says so.”

Anakin withdraws, stung at the other boy’s standoffish attitude. “Never mind,” he mumbles, reaching for the satchel to put away the books. “It was stupid.”

Obi-Wan’s hand flashes out to stop him. “No,” he says. “No, I’m sorry. I. Thank you, milord for this. You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I’m offering you some lessons,” Anakin responds slowly. Maybe Obi-Wan had missed that part?

In the moonlight, Obi-Wan’s smile breaks across his face like a sunrise. “Of course, milord.”

“Call me Anakin,” Anakin demands. He wants a friend, not someone who will bow to his title or shy away from his crown. He wants an equal, a familiar. He wants Obi-Wan to treat him as if they carried the same amount of dirt and grime on their skin.

“Of course, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, like he’s breaking a rule and afraid he’ll get caught. “But….”

“But what?” Anakin asks, scooting closer now that he knows he probably won’t be kicked off the loft to be fed to the horses in the morning.

“Did you bring a light to read by?” Obi-Wan asks, looking around his bare accommodations.

Anakin bites his lip and looks too, but the search is fruitless. “Well,” he says. “No.” The truth is that in the castle there’s always light when he needs light. There are always servants, ready to bustle in and solve his slightest inconvenience. He had never thought of light as a--what had Obi-Wan said earlier? A luxury.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispers, tracing the cover of the book with something like longing.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Anakin finds himself promising. “I’ll bring a candle or something. I will. Tomorrow night.”

“Really?” The other boy’s voice seems to get caught in his throat because it comes out sounding much weaker and higher than it ever has.

Anakin nods. He would. He’d come back every night for the rest of his life if it meant Obi-Wan would like him, if it meant they could be friends. “I promise,” he says, reaching out with his smallest finger.

Obi-Wan looks at it for a second before linking their fingers together. “Okay, milord,” he says. “I believe you.”

[planetary-runaway]

Son

“W-will?” came a quiet, disbelieving voice, echoing from behind the newly revived ex-president, making him spin on his heel, already pasting a bright smile onto his face, as had become his custom interacting with anyone since he gained the white streak belying how truly old he was. “Oh! Fundy!” he positively beamed, though his eyes were too sharp, his teeth too white to have given anyone a sense of ease, especially as he held his arms out in front of him as if presenting the fox hybrid to his companion. “Look, Tommy! It’s Fundy.” He certainly wasn’t being genuine, all three of those present could hear the mocking remnants of a much friendlier ghost lingering in the higher pitches, and, judging by the snide curl of his lip as he continued, Will knew exactly what he was doing. “What can I do for you? Just a house call?”

Hackles raising as Wilbur stepped forward, Fundy stumbled back a little, and shoved a piece of paper into his pocket, eyeing Tommy warily, seeing as though he was hunched, staring at the grass of his lawn, with his hands in his pockets, just letting this happen. “N-No, it’s fine, I just... I was just going to ask Tommy something, but- but I'll come back later. Yeah, I'm sure it can wait.” he stammered out an excuse, trying to back off, back onto the prime path, where he could turn tail, but Wilbur merely waved it aside dismissively. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure Toms would be happy to help.” he smiled, pinning the hybrid with a strangely, unfamiliar clear gaze, as he comfortably threw an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He didn’t seem to notice as the teen stumbled numbly, not once looking up from the small purple flower blooming from his lawn, letting Will move him about as if he was naught but a ragdoll, though Fundy bristled at the comfortable, familial gesture, grinding his teeth.

“Yeah... sure.” Tommy spoke hollowly, the movement having made a militarily cropped piece of his hair catch the light, white as bone, standing out starkly against the spun gold of the rest of his rumpled hair. Even from the other end of the lawn, Fundy could see how weary he was, how the dark circles had multiplied as if branding themselves onto his skin permanently, like they were weighing his shoulders down. He looked so small next to the still-beaming Wilbur, so different from the larger-than-life character Fundy had known from his childhood. It was disconcerting, but still, he forced his feet to move forward, toward the duo, feeling as his too-big boots slid on the cropped grass, and set his jaw. Completely blanking the taller, Fundy quickly addressed Tommy, not wanting to spend any longer in Will’s presence than he had to, let alone within arm’s reach. “I- Do you have any spare iron? Niki needs to rebuild her beacon.”

It wasn’t the politest or most successful of conversations, but, as Tommy raised a cracked, bruised hand, and pointed back into the house, Fundy could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise come over Wilbur’s face. A gentle head bow, and murmured thanks later, Fundy was passing through into the small dirt house- if it could even be called that- and rummaging through the assorted junk in Tommy’s chests, not organised in the slightest sense. They look like they had been ransacked recently, not a single piece of stone seeming to have lodged in a corner somewhere, forgotten. But, before he could think to question it, sure Tommy would have had at least some, Fundy’s hands brushed the smooth coolness of a few blocks of iron, sandwiched between two completely unrelated things, and his mind was sent on a completely different line of thought.

Yanking it out, he was surprised to see there was more than he thought, even if he did send a few dented buckets and an old, ragged leash flying in the movement. Still, he did have some level of decency, sure that if Tommy had this much iron, he must have had a need for it. So, as much as he wanted to take the whole stack, Fundy had some decency, slipping half into his pack for later, and carefully stowing the rest back into the chest in a much less dangerous pile, for... whatever the teen would need it for. It was a joke around the area that, often, very little in these chests was Tommy’s so, while he was sure somebody would currently be hunting, very confused, for their materials, there was also an unspoken knowledge between everyone that Tommy never took anything that would leave people really wanting, and, maybe...7 times out of 10, he would give it back after a while anyway.

Chuckling to himself as he latched the chest closed again, and prepared to stand back up from the cool, dirt floor, Fundy almost missed the tell-tale rumble of Wilbur starting to raise his voice from outside, where he had stayed with Tommy, basking in the sun as if it seemed to spotlight him alone. Gasping in a breath to hold, a faded memory coming back to him of long nights spent sleeplessly in the tall grass of a walled community, of hearing raised voices and incensed footsteps from inside his father’s office, Fundy forced himself to his feet, ignoring how his knees protested and wobbled, padding as silently as he was able over to the door to peek outside.

It wasn’t a fun sight to behold, either, Wilbur having taken Tommy by the shoulder as he spoke, a manic look in his eyes as he gestured wildly with his free arm, to the neighbourhood around them, to the sky, and the ground, and even to the house, though neither saw Fundy, him having ducked out of sight just in time. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, both of them knowing he was there, but, in the split second he had to react, it had felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want to look back out there, so, instead, he leant his heaving back against the soft dirt wall, feeling the chill soak through his jacket and thin shirt, a small relief to his skin, and listened instead.

“Listen Tommy! This? This will be our legacy! If we can do this...” he broke off into laughter, so hauntingly familiar that it made Fundy’s heart ache to hear, almost being able to imagine a million different Wilburs, arms spread wide, face tilted to the sky. “When we do this, we’ll be saints! Nobody will be able to touch us again! We'll be gods, Tommy!” he spoke quickly, as if he was afraid that, if he didn’t get all his words out right that second, he would never get a chance to say them again, but like he didn’t care what it was that he said. “We will be... Tommy, we’ll be unstoppable!” It sounded more like a monologue to Fundy, who, straining his ears, only just heard Tommy’s mumbled reply, apathetic and weary as he sighed. “Yeah... gods.” He echoed, sounding decades older to the young fox, so used to the blonde spitfire throwing curses and rebuttals about like water, or at least swallowing back the more offensive things when warned. But right now, he just sounded defeated, like he had nothing left. And really, he didn’t, he didn’t even get to die in peace, so why should he be enthusiastic, knowing he would just be kept going indefinitely. It was a common source of outrage about the entire nation, that whatever had happened after Doomsday had broken their dear Tommy, though nobody knew much more than that he had lost a life, the news not having become popular, understandably.

“And you, Toms!” Will continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything, followed by a loud rustling and stumbling steps. “You will be my right-hand man, all over again! This time we will win, my boy and I!” The iron suddenly felt ten times heavier, in Fundy’s pack, and in his stomach, a sick, sinking feeling washing over him. He couldn’t have just said that, right? He didn’t mean it, surely. But still, no amount of lying to himself could stop as he spun, flinging the door open angrily. “And what am I, Wilbur?” he snapped, teeth bared as he stood, haloed with darkness from the dim house, in the doorway, regarding the pair with poorly veiled disdain. “What role do I play? Gunna leave me alone again? Leave me behind?” Jealousy was rising, hot and thick, in his throat as he spoke, raging like a monster and driving him to step forward, stalking toward Will, who had the audacity to still hold an arrogant smirk on his face. “Ah, Fundy. So nice to see you’re still here.” he spoke smoothly, clasping his hands before himself like a housewife as he saw the sharp claws starting to peek out from around the fingerless gloves the hybrid always wore.

“Answer the question. What am I to you, Wilbur.” he spoke lowly, almost a growl, slowly shifting into a fighting stance at the infuriatingly serene position Will held, faintly noticing he had shed his heavy coat at some point in his ravings, leaving him in just his achingly familiar linen shirt and pants. “Well... you’re Fundy.” One hand went out in a mockery of a placating gesture, nestling in Fundy’s hair and ruffling it up, before being quickly snatched back as Fundy snapped angrily at it, missing by less than a centimetre. “Well done, you know my name.” he snarled back, eyes lightening, blink by blink, from their usual dormant brown to a much angrier, more feral gold as he hunched fully into a fighting stance, the rage reaching a peak. “How about family? I’m your son.” the words lashed out like a whip, ripping his throat up as they spilled out, and stupidly making his voice crack. “I’m your son” he repeated, quieter this time, slashing out blindly as Wilbur’s hand came close again. “Don’t you dare touch me. You haven’t earnt the right.”

This time, he broke skin, he felt as the minor resistance buckled, and blood tickled the tips of his fingers, looking up to see a clear slash mark on the sleeve of the shirt, now being quickly dyed with the type of morbid crimson that only blood could be. Wilbur looked surprised, quickly pulling the entire sleeve off to bandage it, before holding his arm to himself, an action performed in entire, three-way silence. Fundy had watched, tight lipped, at the familiar sight of blood, not able to find it in himself to feel any kind of remorse for his actions, simply waiting for it to be over with.

“I see you found your spine. Your mother was always feisty too.” Wilbur commented slyly, seeing as Fundy’s heaving breath caught in his chest for a moment, not even flinching as a loud growl reverberated about the street afterward. “You have no right to talk about her like that. You made us soldiers, you made us fight your bloody wars in your name, and where were you when we needed you by our sides?” Fundy snarled, gesturing to the hunched figure of Tommy, right where he had been left when Will had stepped away, staring unseeingly at the floor, arms wrapped tight about his midsection. “You were off on your chaise longue, eating grapes and seducing Dream so you could blow us all up again, conveniently looking the other way when we called for you to be there.” he spat the words like they were acid, trying desperately to find at least one thing that scratched the perfect veneer Wilbur was putting up, even with his arm clamped to his chest like it was shattered. “But we were children. Will, I was a child.”

He couldn’t help the memories coming back, of chainmail that dragged on the floor when he walked, of the elusive smells of pastries being eclipsed by gunpowder, of babbling brooks turned into deathly still lakes by the craters left over, of playful laughter echoing through the air from around the foreboding office Fundy had barely seen the inside of, before they were all shushed and sheparded off to train for a war they shouldn’t have had to fight. “I was a kid that just wanted a dad. You were supposed to be there for me.” Tears started pricking at his eyes at this, and, determined not to give Wilbur the satisfaction of seeing it, he roughly shouldered past, clutching his pack and his jacket close. “You were supposed to be a father.” he couldn’t help but mumble as they diverged, Wilbur not bothering to put out an arm to stop him as he stepped from the cropped lawn back onto the smooth, familiar wood of the path.

“And you know what?” Fundy barked, turning back one last time, hating how the sun made a halo about Wilbur’s form, painting him as an angelic being, especially how it dappled through the folded wings just poking out from over his shoulders now he wasn’t wearing his heavy coat anymore. “I wish you stayed dead.” It didn’t even cause a quirked brow, Wilbur watching with some detached sort of amusement, as if it was naught but a show he was the sole audience for. Upending his pack, Fundy turned to Tommy, unsure if he was even able to hear him, but spoke again, quieter, softer. “Keep the iron, I'll find it somewhere else.” and, in time with the heavy clang of iron upon the path, a door, left open for far too long, finally locked in Fundy’s mind.

[blu-joons]

DATING PENTAGON A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴  Yeo Changgu

A ⇴ AFFECTION 

Changgu loves to get cuddly with you, he enjoys being able to relax with his arms around you, even just for a few seconds, forgetting about how hectic his life is, means a lot to him, finding comfort in your touch.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING 

When the two of you first met, Changgu was incredibly shy, Jinho ended up having to tell you his name because he was so quiet around you. Slowly though, as the two of you got to know each other a little better, those walls began to break down and the two of you got to know each other probably at work.

C ⇴ CONFESSION 

You’d forgotten how shy Changgu ever was when it came to his confession, he ended up rambling for what felt like forever in front of you, telling you exactly how he felt about you, making sure that he didn’t miss out a single detail. He ended up talking your ear off for most of the evening, eventually getting to his confession after almost an hour, surprised to see you still awake in front of him and nodding his head.

D ⇴ DATES 

Changgu enjoys being able to relax alongside you at the end of the day, curling up on his bed and watching a drama, or at least trying to get in a few episodes before one of you falls asleep. As mentioned earlier, being able to be around you and have your touch on him helps him to forget about his day and focuses his mind on the programme that the two of you are watching. It’ll usually end up being Changgu that falls asleep curled into you first, to which you always make sure to pause the drama, otherwise he’ll kill you in the morning.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE 

He’s very open with you from the start about the concerns he has about your relationship, how he worries about you, the fans, and the group too, but never himself. Once he gets talking on his worries, whether its around you, his family, or the group, it’s another time when it’s pretty difficult to shut him up. He tends to waffle a lot, his mind turns into a vicious cycle, when one concern crops up for him, it’s not long until a few more arise and he really finds himself getting into a bit of a spin in front of whoever’s listening.

F ⇴ FIGHTING 

Anytime the two of you begin to argue with one another, the shy side of Changgu you knew when you first met comes out to play. It’s the one time you’ll find him quite opposite, and quiet, he’ll never quite know what to say out of fear of getting it wrong and ending up making the situation worse between the two of you. Arguing is one thing Changgu hates, more than anything in the world, he’ll often freeze in the situation and zone out. Then, once you’ve offloaded, as calmly as he can, he’ll try and work through whatever the issue was and try and talk with you like adults, without all the shouting.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY 

The first person you met was Changgu’s older sister, which quickly turned into a decision Changgu regretted. From the moment you met, the two of you were a little tag team against him, sharing all your terrible stories and embarrassing memories you had of him, ignoring just how embarrassed it often made him in front of you.

H ⇴ HOME 

Changgu loved the dorm and having people around him all of the time, which you understood, especially as he had his own room too. You were in no rush to make him move out, in fact you enjoyed spending time with the other members too and getting to know some of the most important people in his life.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU” 

It became a habit of Changgu’s around you to ramble whenever he was talking about his feelings, so much so that he ended up accidentally telling you that he loved you on one specific occasion. He almost skipped by it, until you held your hand out for him to stop, asking him to repeat what he’d just said, making sure you heard him correctly.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY 

Whenever Changgu feels jealous, you’ll be able to tell by how quiet he becomes. He can talk to most people, and hold a conversation pretty well, so when you feel as if he’s starting to slip out of a conversation, you’ll know what’s wrong. It’s a steady decline, slowly feeling his confidence disappear and his shyness creep in, fearful as to what might happen. Luckily for him, by that point, you’ve usually picked up on what’s going on, stepping in and reassuring him before he disengages too heavily with what’s going on.

K ⇴ KIDS 

The future is another thing that Changgu will love to look forward to with you, he can’t help himself but get excited when he thinks about all the things you could do together in the future. And one of those things is definitely start a family, the thought of having a family has always excited Changgu but knowing that he now has you to dream about it with, makes him happier than he could ever explain to you.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER 

You can’t help but laugh at things that often come out of Changgu’s mouth, you’re not sure how one person can talk so much, and talk so much nonsense at the same time, but somehow Changgu manages. He’ll often end up having to stop talking to ask you what’s so funny, as you sit before him in fits of giggles, trying to make sense of what he’s said. Changgu himself is usually unaware of the things that he says but knowing that whatever it was that was said has ended up putting a smile on his face, will be more than enough for him, quickly picking back up where he left up on his one-sided conversation.

M ⇴ MISSING 

It’s easy for anyone to pick up on when Changgu’s missing you, because like when he’s jealous, he’ll become very quiet indeed. When he’s not laughing at a joke, or not chiming into conversation, the other members will know exactly what’s going on, instantly checking in on him and trying to bring the smile back to his face. They know it’s hard for him to constantly be the chatty one in the group when his mind can only think of you, and so they’ll always support him when he feels like he needs a bit of quiet, but as soon as he’s feeling better and ready to talk again, they’ll be there to listen, no matter how sometimes reluctant they are.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES 

You always call Changgu your ‘chatterbox,’ because he really doesn’t stop talking. You love how chatty he can be, around him, you’re guaranteed to pretty much never get a moment of peace and quiet to enjoy the silence.

O ⇴ OBSESSION 

He’s obsessed with your smile, knowing that you’re happy with him is the only thing that Changgu ever wants, anything else is simply just an added bonus.

P ⇴ PDA 

Keeping your safe is the only thing Changgu worries about whenever he’s affectionate with you in public. Whilst he can talk his way out of most situations, it’s not always the same for you, and so he’ll usually use his arms a little more to a clear a way for you both and make sure that you’re as relaxed as can be.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS 

If Changgu is ever quiet around you, you’ll always make sure to ask him if he’s alright, concerned as to why he’s fallen so silent. That’s how uncharacteristic it is of him to be quiet, always making you worry just a little bit.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS 

Changgu loves to take photos of you, especially one where he knows you’re not paying attention. He’ll often pull out his phone when he notices you staring off into the distance, snapping a quick photo and making sure to save it to the album that is specifically dedicated to all of the candid photos he has of you, always looking through it whenever he’s missing you, especially so when he’s on the road.

S ⇴ SEX 

When the two of you are intimate, Changgu is always very attentive to what you want from him, and a great speaker too. Those rambles he often gives when he wants to tell you how he feels will turn into quieter whispers of sweet nothings in your ear, making sure that you’re always shy. He’s always open with his heart, especially so when the two of you are intimate, making sure you feel as loved as you possibly can.

T ⇴ TEXTS 

After every mealtime, you sit by your phone and wait for the text to come through from Changgu to make sure that you’re eating. It’s his biggest worry, making sure that you’re taking care of yourself, so he’ll always check in.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE 

Having someone there to always listen, whether it’s good or bad, funny or emotional, means a lot to Changgu. He knows he can talk most people’s ears off, and yet you’ll always listen to his every word and pay him your full attention.

V ⇴ VACATION 

Anywhere in the world you want to go, Changgu will take you when the two of you get the chance to go away. He’s been to enough places through tours and schedules, he much prefers to give you the chance to tick somewhere off your bucket list, no matter how much you argue that it might be somewhere he’s been before.

W ⇴ WHINING 

It’s almost natural of Changgu to whine when he’s talking to you about something frustrating, he almost doesn’t realise he’s doing it most of the time.  

X ⇴ XXXXX 

The place he’ll love to kiss the most is always the top of your head; he loves being able to rest on top of you and press you tightly against his chest. For you, you’ll normally find yourself having to kiss against his lips, just so you can get a moment of silence to yourself. A kiss on the lips is a sign that Changgu can very quickly pick up on, muttering a quick apology before finally telling himself to stop talking for a while.

Y ⇴ YOU 

You were a great listener, somehow you always paid attention to every single word.

Z ⇴ ZZZ 

The quiet you got at night-time was always well received, although you would often end up falling asleep listening to Changgu mutter to himself about anything that came to mind, knowing you probably switched off long ago.

---

Masterlist

[aenaxes]

congrats on 200 my dear!!! i’m so happy i found your writing and look forward to being better friends!!! anywho, the celebration must commence! 🍾 🎉💕 ily!!

for requests, i gotta go w my main man, my first clone love, the darling hardcase (i swear he doesn’t get enough love) 💕 we’re both touch starved adhd fools who love a little too much sometimes and i just wanna smother him w my 🐱 in all the affection he deserves. if you’re up for it, maybe some soft smut for your local bottom? 🥺 i’ve been wanting to get a tattoo that matches his facial markings and wonder how he’d react to seeing it during a gentle moment between the two of you. my pronouns are she/they & i’m 5’6, and i have dark green hair + blue eyes.

you and me & me and you

[hardcase x afab!reader] there is little permanence, and all of them are fleeting, in a war that tips its scales with each new dawn. so while hardcase is away, you decide you’ll carve out your own constant between you and him, and him and you.

warnings: tattoos, unprotected vaginal sex, mushy gooey feelings pt.2

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: my love for hardcase grows day by day, and every day i wake up and cry a little bit because he isn’t real. but it's ok bc ily jj and you're very much real 💕

Seldom do you find Hardcase stunned into complete silence.

Stillness shared between you and Hardcase, rare as those moments may be, is never truly silent. Tackling each other onto the couch, stealing late-night speeder joyrides, sharing the kind of banter that doubles you over so hard your ribs sting for hours afterwards—the energy, the light, linger in the spaces left behind.

But this time, Hardcase simply stares, jaw slack and eyes wide as your fingers curl over the lifted hem of your shirt. No wisecrack quip, no teasing wink, not even so much as a low whistle as you tug your shirt over your head and drop it behind you, straddling his lap over the edge of the bed.

Eyes full of stars, he gawks.

“You—those’re my—hm, okay, wow, uh, hah—” Hardcase’s voice pitches high as his lips open and close around half-formed words.

You watch the whole spectacle as he gasps like a landed fish, grasping for wisps of coherence. And you can’t help the giggle that rises from your throat when he forgoes words entirely and trails off into a breathless half-whimper half-laugh.

“Can I—” he says at last, and his voice cracks hoarse through his sputtering attempt to regain what little composure he had. “Can I touch it?”

At your nod, Hardcase reaches forwards just enough that his fingertips barely brush over your chest. You don’t dare look down to where his calloused fingers meet the skin above your ribs, too afraid that if you take your eyes from Hardcase’s face for even a single heartbeat that you might miss a precious moment of the awestruck wonder in his expression. You find yourself as transfixed as he as you watch him trace the trio of royal blue ink arcing down your sternum and tapering off into twin circles that cradle the curve of your chest.

It’s what this whole evening has been leading up to—your grand reveal kickstarted by his signature lung-crushing hug on the hangar bay. You had braced for it harder than usual when he’d swept you into his arms and lifted you off the dusty platform steel, readying for the particularly bruising ache that comes with the week-old ink needled over the base of your ribs.

To be fair, it wasn’t possible to greet Hardcase without creating some sort of commotion. Even if it was just shy of a week on planetside escort duty, once the gunship was within a metre of the dusty landing bay durasteel, landing protocols be damned, Hardcase would hit the ground running, tossing his helmet behind him and swooping you into his arms. The sheer, unadulterated joy of reunion always found home in how he squeezed you around your middle and spun you about; it was always worth the solid smack over the back of his head (stern, from Rex and, gleefully, from Jesse) for throwing his bucket aside.

But when you had met him with more of a pained grunt than your usual tittering exclamation, Hardcase had dropped you so quickly you’d almost fallen backwards if not for his reflexes to steady you. When he’d stumbled over wide-eyed apologies (and braced past Jesse’s open-palmed whap over his head), you had only laughed and told him to wait until after you had run inventory with Rex.

His fingers finally pause their slow trace over the tattoo on your chest. He feels, sees himself, an emblem on your skin. And when he looks up, he sees you.

“Tats are sore for a bit, ‘Case,” you smile. His eyes are so wide you’re certain if you look just a little more, you’d see yourself in him. You and he, he and you, the same, the same, one. “‘s why I flinched a little.”

Hardcase’s lips open and part around soundless words a few more times, still floating in some limbo between processing disbelief and boundless excitement before he unevenly clears his throat and finally speaks.

“You—you got me inked on you?” Hardcase whispers. Each word has the corners of his lips curling higher as if he had to speak into realization what stood before him; as if his fingertips pressing tender divots into your skin were proof only of the flesh: a universal truth that only needed words to find home in his heart.

You nod, grinning.

“Wanted to have a part of you with me for while you’re away.”

And for a moment, Hardcase’s fingers are the only motion in a still room, stroking soft, repetitive motions over the blue ink of your—his—tattoo.

You silently brace for something loud and present, excited rambling, another crushing hug, affection swept wide and open before you. Instead, Hardcase lets free a single breathless huff and tugs you close.

“You know those are forever, right?” he laughs, his voice rising again.

“That’s why I got it,” you respond, and his laughter only grows brighter.

Hardcase buries his nose into your chest with a groan, and that precious crest of joy bursts over your tongue when you throw your head back and laugh. Gilded and honeyed light finds home in your chest.

“Mesh’la, I need you so bad right now,” Hardcase groans as he brings his arms snug around your waist. And his laughter joins yours this time, voices swelling together when Hardcase rests his brow against your skin and pulls you in close. You make quick work of the rest of your clothes, throwing them somewhere off to the bedside before you sit back down over the firm lines of his thighs.

“I mean, yeah, I sure hope so—was the whole point ‘Case,” you tease, and Hardcase groans, carrying something of breathless disbelief and affection and desire curled into a single whimpering sound.

And as soon as you’re squeezing over his shoulders, suddenly, you feel your gravity tilt, and you yelp as your back connects with the bedspread.

Hardcase cages you under him, one arm propped by your head as the other slips from beneath the small of your back and trails its way back to the centre of your chest, hovering just at the edges of your tattoo. He lingers, treading those shallow waters for a moment more. But where you expect the familiar drag of his blunt nails over the bold lines of blue ink, he dips low. Instead, you gasp when his fingers are replaced by his lips, warm, inviting, home as he presses a single, lingering kiss over the sigil branded into your skin.

“‘Case!” you giggle and kick out your legs at the sudden flick of his tongue over your chest. You feel him laugh into your skin, his breath wisping over where his lips just brush over the edges of the tattoo.

He ghosts one more touch, drawn long and yet chaste in how he nuzzles the tip of his nose into your chest. And the bubbling laughter of before wanes, complete, when he lifts his chin and meets you with the hushed whispers of a smile on his parted lips.

Because it’s him, finding home over the base of your ribs.

It’s him, reflected back into his wide eyes.

It’s you.

He doesn’t surge up to meet you. He doesn’t kiss you with that unabashed brilliance that crushes your lips together so hard your teeth clack. The breath catches in your throat as you watch him move in silence. There is no overexuberant joy when Hardcase shifts higher up on the bed to meet your eyes and slowly runs his thumb over your lower lip. Even then, his touch is so achingly still, deliberation held close and savored slow.

He blinks once, dark eyes full of the soft light only privy to early mornings and late nights when you curl close and bask in each other, bared and whole. You grant his request without hesitation.

Starting low, your fingers smooth over the faded lines of blue tattooed over Hardcase’s chin, the same sigils you keep as your own. Well worn and faded until the line between ink and skin disappeared entirely, the tattoos beneath your fingertips are nothing and everything like yours. You trace higher, following the crest of his lip, the high line of his cheekbone, the dip just beneath his eye where his tattoo begins anew.

He closes his eyes and lets your touch trail over his lashes until your fingers slope over his temple and still over the base of his head. And when he dips his head low, you meet him in the middle, catching his upper lip between yours as he slips one hand between you and thumbs over your tattoo. That touch anchors you as much as you think it must do the same for him, pulling you close and keeping you there while you lick over his lips and breathe him in deep.

Through the warmth heavy in your gut, you feel him slide his other hand down your side, over the contour of your hip, and lift your leg up against him. You hook your leg over the small of his back and tug awkwardly, sending him stumbling forwards, crushing his hand between your chests as he dips down and narrowly catches himself.

No amount of awkward maneuvering breaks the rosy air between you, even as you both tear away from each other to stifle the kind of laughter that lingers.

“This okay?” he murmurs over the waning sigh of a low chuckle, voice warm on your skin and drunk with your taste. He nudges his hips forward, sending a shiver shocking up your spine when you feel his cock brush up against the swell of your cunt.

“Always, Hardcase,” you whisper.

As soon as the words leave your lips, you barely have enough time to suck in another breath before you’re stuttering on your own tongue. The tension slumps out of your shoulders as Hardcase digs his fingertips into your thigh and presses forwards, stretching you out around him in the way only he knows how, setting fire to your nerves and coming home all at once.

No matter how many times you kneel before ritual—habit coming to you as natural and comforting as breath itself—you still find yourself slack-jawed and starry-eyed as Hardcase pushes into you.

That it’s the first time in his four month tour that he’s able to pull you apart and hold you together only makes it better.

It takes all of one long, shuddering exhale for him to push into you in full. The breath you share breaks that stillness, a gasping inhale as his hips connect with the soft curve of your thighs and has the blunt head of his cock nudging so deep in you that you swear you feel the pulse at the base of your ribs, right where your tattoo swells with your whimpering.

Hardcase drops forward with a groan, blindly twining his fingers with yours and leaning down to press his forehead close against yours.

You don’t have to open your eyes to see him as you squeeze his hand. The bridge of his nose flush against yours, you bask, exchanging the warmth of breath over the little space between your lips. With his brow pressed into yours, he surrounds you, warmth, warmth, warmth, a setting sun and the grass it kisses still glowing in its wake. He rolls his hips forwards and swallows your wailing moan with his tongue.

Hardcase starts slow, setting a pace that has you feeling every long drag inside you as he draws back then crushes back up against the soft spot inside you that curls your toes. It’s a far cry from the excitement of a welcome back or rendezvous reunion, swapping giddy haste to savor instead, to melt over his tongue as Hardcase slips his free arm under your hips and tugs you impossibly close.

Through the blissed-out tears beaded over your lashes, you can just make out his expression, tense with cresting pleasure, as he leans back and admires you, stretched out before him. And when your legs jerk this time, there is no achingly deep pressure of his cock heavy inside you—only his lips over the centre of your chest as he bows low and kisses your tattoo again, again, laying and sealing claim above the rapid flutter of your heart.

You squeeze his hand, and he lifts his chin to meet your hazy eyes with his own, full with intent, desire, the kind of loyalty transcendent above anything he could ever swear to his generals, to his cause. He squeezes back.

You drop your head back onto the bed when he picks up his pace again, moving his free hand out from under you to stroke his thumb over your clit and smearing the mess of your arousal and his precome over where you stretch around him. Chest heaving, you can only sob and grip tight around his neck as he leans back over you and nuzzles his nose into your collar.

It’s getting harder and harder to tell your breaths apart from his after one stuttering thrust gives way to another. The steady tenderness of before bows under the fizzling heat in your stomach, giving in to rawer need as Hardcase’s movements over your clit fumble erratic. He snaps his hips against yours and drives up hard against your pleasure, mumbling unknowable words under his breath. Desperate for more, you shift back to meet what thrusts you can.

When he leans forwards again, his brow unsteadily knocks against your nose before he can nuzzle over your forehead and press close. You might have laughed, taken the moment to catch your breath over the clumsiness of affections swelling high. But you’re too busy chasing your own pleasure, too enamored with the wet friction of his throbbing cock sliding into your cunt.

Hardcase comes first, thundering rigid through him as he buries his nose at the juncture of your neck and bites down over his own teeth, his jaw flexing against your skin. His tension spreads through you, holds you by your breath and seizes the mounting want in your stomach tight with each heavy spurt of come he grinds into you.

You nose up against his temple—a silent plea for touch even deeper than you already feel it—and he indulges you. Hazy in the aftershocks of his orgasm, Hardcase lifts his head from your collar and crushes his lips against yours. He breathes in your heaving exhales as he kisses you, all open-mouthed warmth coaxing your pleasure.

“So lucky,” Hardcase mumbles, his puffing exhales over your lips matching every thrust into your dripping cunt. “Maker, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

Before you can strain some half-hearted tease in response, you’re too delirious on your rousing high. All you can manage is a soundless cry that shocks straight to the white-hot heat welled low in your stomach. Hardcase rolls his calloused thumb over your clit one last time and pulls your orgasm heady and low beneath him.

Pleasure bursts over your tongue, thrumming through you hard enough you swear you black out. Nothing but paralyzing and indulgent sensation shocks through you. There is only Hardcase’s presence to anchor you to the moment in the most intimate signs of life: shared breath, fingers laced tight with yours, lips mouthing words that need neither name nor sound to find warmth at the bottom of your chest.

And when the moment subsides and the ringing in your ears fades, you open your eyes to him, glowing with exhaustion but beaming down on you all the same.

“Maker’s really lookin’ out for me,” Hardcase says at last, brushing his fingertips over the sweat beaded at your temple.

“Yeah?”

You tug him closer against your chest (as well as you can with the tremble in your arms). He follows your lead as you feel him softening inside you, and he settles his nose close over your tattoo, just beneath your beating heart.

“I mean, whatever it is, it got me you.”

“You got me you, ‘Case,” you say. Though the air between you is far from the kind of existential solemnity that demands silence, your attempt to laugh comes only as a soft whisper, hushed as your lips brush over the crown of his head.

Because whatever was up there, pulling those galactic tides and willing life into the universe, even if it had tied those fine red strings strong and true between you and the man curled around you, it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, it was you and him, brought together in a headfirst collision in the cold steel halls of a Jedi cruiser and bound tight over shy planetside advances and cheesy dates.

“Then I got you, and you got me?” Hardcase chuckles, lifting his head and meeting your fond gaze.

“Just us,” you laugh.

Hardcase makes a soft noise of affirmation, his arms pulling snug around your middle. He nuzzles close skin over skin, and when he kisses over your tattoo, the sting of ink and needles fades into a distant memory unknown—all worth the trembling touches he presses over the place you’ve carved out for him alone.

Maybe the Maker helped along the way, but it’s always been you and him, him and you.

[ererokii]

Water Me || Denki Kaminari

Denki Kaminari x Fem! Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2842

Synopsis: It’s a hot day during spring break and your friends know a good way to cool down.

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki​ @shoutosteakettle​ @saltie​ @kingtamakimurder​ @fryingpanitachi​ @sugacookiies​

➺ Note: This is for @bnhabookclub’s bingo event! The prompt is Water Balloon Fight.

Bingo Masterlist

“You idiot. If you fill-up the pieces of shit all the way, they’ll pop! Are you that fucking stupid?” Bakugou growled, snatching the colorful piece of rubber from Kaminari’s hands. 

“Hey man, I forgot!” Kaminari whined, reaching for another water balloon from the bag. He immediately retracted his hand when Bakugou’s lifted in the air, threatening to hit him. 

“Of course, you forgot, your brain is the size of a goddamn atom.”

“Uh speaking of popping...” Kirishima’s nervous laughter filled the ash blond’s ears as he stood next to his friend, who had an equally shy smile. 

Bakugou and Kaminari both turned around, the latter’s eyes bulging out of his sockets when he noticed the pieces of tape covering the rubber. “What the hell did you guys do?!”

“It wasn’t on purpose! I accidentally turned on my quirk when tying the knot!”

“For each fucking one?!” Bakugou yelled, small explosions going off in the palms of his hands.

Sero scoffed and waved it off, his nervous smile being replaced with a carefree one. “Relax, man! They’re all fixed! As long as they’re in one piece, does it matter?”

From the other side of the yard, you and Ashido were filling up your water balloons, listening to the raging from Bakugou and the begging from Kirishima and Sero. “What’s so hard about filling up water balloons?” you sighed as you carefully tied a knot on one of them, placing it gently into the cooler along with other ones. 

“Nothing. They’re just too dumb for it.” Ashido grinned, quickly tying the knot and tossing it into the cooler. The moment the water-filled material hit the cooler's side, it popped, sending water everywhere, splattering both of you.

“Mina!” you huffed, wiping the droplets of water off of your face. “I guess they aren’t the only ones that are dumb, huh?”

“That’s not true! It was an accident!”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, shifting from a position on your knees to sitting crisscrossed, your back hunching forward.

You felt the hot rays of the sun beating down on your back, causing the current task at hand more miserable than it should have been. The white sleeveless top you were wearing did not do justice in keeping you cool from the torture. You could feel your black running shorts sticking to your legs like glue. Your hand came up closer to your face, fanning yourself, which only sent more hot air into your face. 

School was out of session since spring break began, and unfortunately, this week was hot as hell. Staying in the dorms with fans blowing cold air in the room, as everyone hovered over the same one was not to your fancy. Although at the moment, you were contemplating it.

“Looks like someone is in need of cooling down,” a voice said from behind you. Two hands were placed on your shoulders, the body of the person looming over you as their lips were placed on your cheek for a sweet kiss. A sigh of relief left your lips as you leaned onto your boyfriend’s body. Kaminari shielded you from the burning sun that was sure to leave you sunburnt in the end.

“Yes, I’m in desperate need of it. We both are! While you guys are messing around, we got ours done!”

“Hey, who said anything about us not doing our job?”

“Those fucked up ones!” You pointed to a balloon in Kirishima’s hands, currently being taped up by Sero as an angry Bakugou yelled at them for not being careful enough. 

“Oh, like I had something to do with that.” He rolled his eyes, fully standing up as he peered down at you. Your eyes squinted as you shielded your eyes from the sun to the best of your ability. 

“Do you want some water, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you replied, before glancing over at Ashido. She was practically sweating buckets. “And one for Mina as well.”

“Oh, Kaminari, you’re a lifesaver! Put extra ice in my cup!” She groaned, letting gravity take its course as she fell backward, her back hitting the soft grass. 

“I’ll go with you. I can’t stand to be out here in this awful heat,” you muttered, hoisting yourself off the ground with the help of Kaminari. “Do you guys want water or anything?!” you yelled to the others, wiping the dirt from your ass. 

“Water!” all three of them yelled in unison.

“Water it is. Come on.” You and Kaminari walked off in the direction of the dorms, his hand resting on the small of your back, inching closer and closer to your ass. 

“Watch where your hand is going,” you huffed, but did not attempt to stop the energetic blond beside you. He wore a goofy grin, his hand now resting on the curve itself. 

“Can you blame me? It’s beautiful.”

You scoffed at him as you walked inside, the sudden wave of fresh air hitting your skin with relief. “Ah, this feels good,” you whispered, standing in one place as the fan swivels back and forth, sending cool air across your skin that left goosebumps. 

“Yeah, well, we came for the water, baby. So the faster we get it, the faster we can go back outside.”

“Yeah, but now I don’t wanna!” you whined, flopping on the couch that was right next to the fan. You reached out and messed with the settings, making the cool air fan you only. “It’s much cooler here, and I might just stay here instead. But if you want, you can go out there!” A lazy grin curled at the corner of your lips as your head hit the armrest of the couch, your eyes closing in a state of bliss.

Kaminari pursed his lips as he sat beside you on the couch, wrapping a sweaty arm around your form that pulled you into his chest. His muscles flexed as he squeezed your shoulder, pressing kisses on your jawline. 

A pleased hum escaped you as you let him, basking in the moment with him. “What are you trying to plan, hm?”

“Nothing, babe. I’m just sitting here with my hot ass girlfriend. Is that a crime?”

You shook your head playfully, looking up at him. “Nope, it’s not.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he whispered. His fingers curled behind your neck, bringing your face closer to his. His forehead rested against yours as he gazed into your eyes like he was staring into your soul. Your cheeks heated up as you closed the distance, kissing him rather roughly. Your lips moved vigorously against each other; the hand around your shoulder was now on the curve of your ass. Your fingers curled around the material of his white shirt. 

His fingers dug into your plush skin, making a small groan leave your lips. He led you to sit on his lap, his hand rubbing small circles on your hip, underneath the shirt you wore. His touch sent you mad, desperate to feel more of him. It was a light feathery touch that somehow weighed more than anything, leaving goosebumps in its wake as warmth filled your veins.

“I know we fucking asked for water and not some fucking show,” Bakugou’s voice boomed through the common room, his feet pounding against the carpeted rug with each step he took. You jolted away from Denki as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at getting caught by none other than Bakugou. 

“Can’t you learn how to knock?” Denki muttered, missing the feeling of your lips against his as he tried leaning in for another kiss, a whine emitting from him when you got off him.

“Knock?! This place is for everyone, you damn idiot!” the spiky blond sneered, grabbing four water bottles from one of the refrigerators. “When you guys decide you wanna stop being gross, come outside!”

The door slammed shut after his departure, hot air that had filled up the room was now overcome by the coolness of the fan. 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you as he rested his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Where were we?”

“After that? No way!” you cried out, slapping his hands off of you. “Come on! Everyone is probably waiting for us!”

“Well, why can’t we have snuggle kissy time?!”

“Because we just did, now come on!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

After practically dragging Kaminari’s whiny ass out of the dorm, the six of you finalized everything. The rules were simple. Whichever team who was the most soaked lost, simple rules for everyone to follow. Everyone stood around the black cooler that held your weapons: water balloons. 

“So who is going to be with who?” you asked, your question lingering in the air as everyone glanced at each other.

“Well, Y/N, we’re a package, so we just need one of those idiots to join us!” Mina chirped, slinging one of her arms around your shoulder, bringing you closer to her body, a proud smile displayed on her face.

“Tch. Whatever, we don’t need you guys anyway.”

“Huh?!” both of you yelled, your eyes widening. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“I’ll join them.” Kirishima shrugged since it wasn’t a big deal. That made the two teams. You, Mina and Kirishima versus Bakugou, Sero, and Kaminari. 

“Have fun losing, you extras!” 

“Can it man, it’s not supposed to be like that!” Kaminari sighed, his hand reaching for a water balloon. Each team member was only allowed to start with one, and they would have to come back to the middle to grab more. Sero and Kaminari called it the ‘Warzone.’ 

“This should be easy, right? We can beat those losers!” you cheered, a skip in your step as your team walked to the other side of the yard, Bakugou and his team walking in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, we can! We have to be careful of Bakugou because he will totally use his quirk and might accidentally explode us!”

“Uh, Ashido… I don’t think he would do that.”

You placed a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder that had the redhead looking over at you. You shook your head, disapprovingly. “He would. You know that.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, placing a finger to his lips. “No, no, no talking. We have a team to beat.”

You guys got in position as you stretched your arms before the chaos started. “Just remember, if we lose, we have nothing.”

“Y/N, you’re starting to sound a bit like Bakugou but less angry,” Mina commented.

“Pfft, nah!” you scoffed, throwing a hand wave. “Impossible.”

“START!”

Kirishima ran first, as he always did in the heat of the moment. You and Mina stared at each other for a second before following him, your number one goal; beating them.

Your tongue peeked out of your mouth slightly as you threw the balloon at full speed, aiming at Bakugou’s head. It seemed to happen in slow motion, his vermillion eyes widening as he dodged it, the balloon splattering behind him that sent some droplets on him. 

“She went straight for him… That’s my girl!” Denki laughed, leaving himself an open target that Mina hit him dead on, water splashing on his chest. 

“You idiot! Pay attention to those around you!” Bakugou snapped, quickly grabbing two water balloons as he immediately chucked them your way. You jumped over one that was aiming for your feet and ducked right after, feeling the air of the balloon pass right by your ear.

“Hah, you suck!” you pointed a finger at Bakugou, then froze, tensing up when water splattered on you from behind, the trickles of water running down your back.

“Who?!” you yelled, arm ready to throw it at anyone. You were met with a cackle of laughter from behind you. ‘Sero,’ you thought, your eyes narrowed as you turned abruptly on your heel and threw both of your balloons at him, hitting him square in the face. 

A surprised gasp left him as he fell backward, his body hitting the ground with a thud. 

“Y/N! Watch out!” Kirishima yelled, running towards you. You stared at him, puzzled for a second before his body collided with yours, tackling you to the floor. A loud dammit came from Kaminari, who felt a pang of emotion run through his veins when he saw Kirishima holding you. 

“K-Kiri!” you squeaked, placing your hands on his biceps. With the closeness, your cheeks heated up as you averted your gaze somewhere.

“D-Denki was going to hit you,” he whispered breathlessly, gulping evidently as he kept his eyes on your face only.

“Get off pal, that’s too long!” Denki yelled, throwing a water balloon that hit him on the side of his face, the water splattering and hitting you in the process, drenching your face.

“It was an accident!” the redhead blurted out, getting off of you and sticking his hand out for you to take. You wiped the excess off of your face with the back of your hand as you used his to hoist yourself up.

“Thanks, guys!” Mina cried out in agony. She was dripping head to toe. Her usually curly hair was sticking to her face, her clothes plastered to her skin like glue.

Before you could open your mouth, a piece of rubber roughly hit your face, the piece exploding on impact, drowning you in water. You cried in pain as you clutched your face, hiding behind your hands.

“Take that!” Bakugou cheered, throwing a balloon onto the ground in victory. 

Noticing your shaking form, Denki walked over to you, concern written all over his face. “Babe?”

A choked sob left your lips as you shook your head, taking a step away from him. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, his hand cradling the back of your head to hold you close. “Hey, what’s wrong?” his words came out muffled as he kissed the crown of your head. “Did he hit you too hard?”

Refusing to say anything, your arms encircling his body only tighten, your hands moving upward to his shoulders. A small smile made its way to your lip as you kept your head hidden in his chest. “Ow..that hurt...”

“What did, babe?”

“This!” you yelled and smashed the water balloon on the top of his head, standing on your tiptoes to do it. You laughed as you pulled away from him, enjoying his shocked face. 

“She’s a fake!” Sero yelled, pointing an accusing finger towards you. “That’s cheating!”

“Oh yeah?!” you challenged, placing your hands on your hips. “Who said?!”

“I did!”

“Your word doesn’t count!”

“Y/N, how could you..?” Denki whispered, his hands twitching by his sides. His head was lowered as his hair partially covered his face. “You traitor!” he cried out, picking you off the ground, hoisting you over his shoulder. 

“D-Denki put me down!” you shrieked, your fingers digging into his back to keep yourself upright as the world was now upside down. His arm was wrapped around your backside, right under the curve of your ass. Your cheeks heated up as you eyed his ass, a hand reaching down to pat it. 

“This is what traitors get!” he laughed, popping a balloon right above you. You squealed from the coldness of the water as the fight now turned for a one for all instead of war.

Laughs filled the yard as everyone had their childish fun. You engraved the scene into your memory. Moments like this made high school years memorable. When the chaos died, you all took shelter underneath the big tree in the middle of the yard. 

Your head was resting on Denki’s shoulder, your fingers laced together. It was quiet, which was rare. Everyone was too tired to speak or ruin the moment, and not even a peep came out from Bakugou’s mouth. Your eyelids felt heavier by the second as you yawned quietly, scooting closer to feel the warmth radiating off your boyfriend’s body. 

Kirishima and Sero had their heads resting against the tree's bark, Mina’s head lazily resting on the redhead’s shoulders while Bakugou entirely laid down on the grass, his arms behind his head as his eyes were closed. 

A small hum left your lips as you squeezed Denki’s hand. He returned the gesture, his lips lingering on your forehead. “Did you have fun?” he mumbled, inhaling the shampoo's scent that you used the night before. You weakly nodded at his question, feeling sleep slowly take over your body. 

Moments like this made you want to live in it forever. It was serene, not the chaos everyone in the outside world had to endure. If you could ever time travel from the future, you would come back to this moment. Everything about today made it that much special. Just you and your friends having fun on a day off. Even though it was simple, it had more meaning than anything. With your boyfriend by your side and your close friends, you guys could conquer anything together. 

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 20

<= Chapter 19

Summary : The search for the rest of the group continues... But things don't go as planned. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/71985015

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New chapter, heeeeeey

So uh I may have overcome my writer and artist block, I don't know, but... In any case, as an apology for the recent lack of content, you get this chapter the day after it was finished !

I hope you'll like it, just like I hope you'll like the drawing coming with it ! (I feel like I've improved a lot)

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 20 - “Show yourself!”  

Snatcher was running, running through the snow as fast as he could, as fast as his cold limbs allowed him to. Ever since he had become human again, the former spirit had had trouble keeping himself up on his two legs. However… At the moment, it was like it didn’t matter anymore, as if his body instinctively knew exactly how to run without falling, without stumbling into the deep and thick snow.

“Please,” he thought to himself, despair engulfing him whole: “please, let them be safe,” he prayed to whatever deity would be ready to listen to him despite his kill count. The thought of what could have happened to Moonjumper and… No, he couldn’t think about it, he didn’t want to think about it.

His lungs were hurting, stinging like never before, the cold air not helping in the least. It felt like thousands of needles were piercing his lungs, his heart pounding in his chest, his stomach tied in knots… It was an awful feeling, but it was nothing compared to what the other two might be experiencing.

He had to find them, he had to! If he was too late… No, he simply couldn’t be, he couldn't allow himself to be!

-“W-wait for me! Snatcher!” the bow-wearing child was trying to follow him, but he supposed having an adult body fueled by pure adrenaline made him run faster than her. Still, lost in his dreadful thoughts, the young man barely heard her. He was too focused on running to the direction of the beacon, of that laser beam that had such a terrible meaning attached to it.

The closer they were getting, the lower the temperatures were, making it harder and harder to run- But Snatcher didn’t care. He couldn’t.

Flakes were falling into his eyes and he couldn’t help but fall down as he had to close his eyes. His foot got tangled in a barely visible root. A muffled cry left his blue lips as his face hit the thick snow on the ground, forcing the air out of his lungs from the shock. No, he couldn’t stop, every second was important!

The child managed to join him while he was trying to get up, his limbs hurting from the cold and the efforts. Her breath was quick and heavy: she was, just like him, exhausted. Still, she frowned as she helped him to get back to his feet:

-“Don’t run off like this, we need to stay together!” she told him, and he knew she was right. If he had crossed Vanessa’s way alone… She would have easily killed him. But he couldn’t be slow when they had to-

-“Wait,” the bow-wearing kid squinted as she tried to see something a dozen feet away : “What’s that?” she continued, pointing to a silhouette that was almost invisible in this blizzard, which had worsened the closer they got to their friends. The falling snow prevented them from perceiving what surrounded them, both hiding them and making them extremely vulnerable, should Vanessa find them.

The former ghost narrowed his eyes but shook his head. This didn’t move, so it… Probably wasn’t Vanessa. But it wasn’t a tree nor a rock, it didn’t have that kind of shape. Still, this was definitely a form he had never seen before in his forest. This had to be a clue leading them to Vanessa or to the rest of the group.

-“I don’t know,” he murmured, his voice getting lower. If Vanessa was near them, he didn’t want her to hear them and find exactly where they were. Then again… Where was the rest of the group? Snatcher and the kid had gone in the direction of the laser beam… Yet, they couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the wind, of the snow falling around them…But no trace of a fight, no voices, no sounds of people defending themselves… This terrible silence was giving him a terrible feeling and, deep down… He couldn’t help but fear for the worst.

-“Let’s get closer,” added the young man, stepping closer to the foreign shape, the snow crackling under his trembling feet. He was hugging himself now, both because of the cold and the fear of seeing something terrifying. He still kept walking, but the closer he got, the harder it became. Not because of the low temperatures… But because, little by little, he was starting to figure out what this strange shape was. And now, around six feet away from it… He stopped, his heart missing a beat, and his breath getting stuck in his throat. It was like he had just received a bucket of cold, no, icy water on his shoulders.

No. No. No, no, no, no! This couldn’t be possible, this couldn’t be happening! This had to be a dream, a nightmare!

The bow-wearing child stopped next to him, her face paling up at the sight, this terrifying and horrifying sight, one that none of them would ever be able to forget.

-“H… Hat…?” she murmured, her eyes watering despite the surrounding blizzard. She didn’t want to believe it, she didn’t want to accept what she had in front of her. Expressions full of despair, fear and horror crossed her features as she let go of the Time Piece, too shocked to care. The magical hourglass fell into the snow, not breaking as its fall was softened by the thick, white layer covering the ground.

The little girl made a few steps forward, slowly, trembling on her legs as she started crying. Snatcher… Was no better. Sorrow could be seen on his face as his eyes couldn’t look away.

Right in front of them… Was the hat-wearing child, completely turned to ice, an expression of horror visible on her frozen features. Not far away from the small statue, another one was laying on the ground, almost hidden by the snow that had fallen after the other’s terrible fate. Moonjumper’s face showed a mix of terror and fear, now carved forever on his face. He had probably been floating before he got frozen, as his arm had been broken, most likely from the fall. A few red strings could be seen next to him, flying through the blizzard, only held by a frozen hand.

Snatcher fell to his knees, white noise ringing into his head, his eyes lost into space. No. This couldn’t be. He was dreaming, he was having a nightmare, a terrifying nightmare, just like he had when he had dreamt about his death. So now, he was dreaming about the brat and Moonjumper’s deaths! Because his brain was a jerk! What other explanation could there be…?

After a few seconds, the former shade realized he had stopped breathing. When he tried to, the air got stuck in his throat and he coughed.He almost threw up, a horrible nausea challenging the limits of his body and his emotions. Said body contorted and soon, he was all curled up on the ground. His cheeks hurt, stinging like cuts in his skin. He pressed his cold hand to his cheek… Only to notice he was crying, and the reason it hurt was because his tears were turning into ice.

-“No… No!” Not far away, he could hear the bow-wearing child crying, screaming as she hugged the statue of her friend, as if she were refusing to let her go. Her voice full of despair was echoing all around despite the wind muffling the sounds.

He… Had been too late.

The former Prince looked at his hands, shaking. He should have been there for them… And now here he was, next to two frozen corpses, new ones adding up to the pile of dead people that Subcon had welcomed into its midst.

This place was cursed. Nothing he had ever done and nothing he will ever do would change anything. Those who stepped into his forest never did leave in one piece indeed… And not always because of him, like this all proved.

-“Hat… Hat, stop…! This is not funny…!” sobbed the other child, as she was trying to take her friend’s signature top hat away. Perhaps she was thinking the hatted brat had voluntarily turned herself into a statue thanks to her ice hat… But Snatcher knew better. This was not a joke, this…

This was all Vanessa’s fault.

That single thought brought him back to reality, and only then he realized he couldn’t feel most of his muscles. Curled up in the snow, like this… He would die if he didn’t movenow. With a newfound vigor, Snatcher forced himself up, anger, no, fury engulfing him. He was going to kill Her, he would make sure this never, ever happened-

-“Who’s there?!”

Snatcher’s entire body froze as he heard those words, this voice… The bow-wearing brat seemed to have the same reaction and their eyes met instantly, both of them with the same thought echoing in their mind.

Here was the murderer of their friends.

The young man’s fury intensified, a warmth spreading in his chest and around him. Soon, his body started to glow, casting around him a yellowish light, making the snow surrounding him melt as heat radiated from him. His clenched fists were becoming hotter and hotter and, as if on cue, flames started to grow out of his fingers. Fueled by anger like fire was by coal, his flames were getting so hot that, after a few seconds… They changed colors.

His yellow fire had been replaced by warmer, more dangerous blue flames. He didn’t pick up the baseball bat, knowing he would surely burn it just by touching it in his state. In any case… Snatcher would not make the same error twice.

Letting her go was not an option anymore.

Not too far away from him, the bow-wearing child adopted a defensive pose, holding her umbrella like one would hold a sword. She was looking everywhere around them, looking for any threat, any sign of Vanessa’s presence. He was, too. Unfortunately… The blizzard just seemed to grow worse and worse as seconds passed. Did that mean Vanessa was getting closer…?

-“Stop hiding, you coward!!” he shouted, turning his head as he tried to perceive a form, a silhouette, anything, but to no avail. This only made him more furious than he already was. He opened his mouth, and he felt like fire was escaping from his throat: “Show yourself!”

He had to do what hehad been too afraid to do when he had fled left: kill her, once and for all.

But silence was his only answer. Had… Had she left? Did she really have the nerve to pull that up, after she had killed their friends?! Was she really going to do that?!

No. No, she had heard them… And Snatcher had yelled at her, so there was no way she would have left. Still… Still, a good minute had passed and Vanessa was nowhere in sight. The little girl seemed to be confused just like he was as she turned to him, trying to understand what was going on. A trail of white lines could be seen on her face: frozen tears. Snatcher was sure the same was visible on his cheeks.

Suddenly, a look of realization crossed her features and she seemed to look around them, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. What was she-

-“The Time Piece!” she urged him : “Where is it?!”

The gears in the former ghost’s mind clicked and he understood why she was asking for it. She was probably intending on using it to go back in time, back to when Moonjumper and the hatted brat were still alive! Of course, how could they have forgotten something so obvious…! Snatcher looked around him, his eyes searching near the last place he had seen the Time Piece… However, his face paled when he realized the blizzard had added a new layer of snow, covering everything up.

The Time Piece was there, surely… But there was no way of finding it.

He turned back to answer her- but the moment he looked in her direction, the ground started to shake. The young man’s heart missed a beat, but before he was able to do or say anything, four high walls of thick ice emerged from the ground, surrounding the little girl and trapping her into an ice prison.

The Time Piece now completely forgotten, the former Prince dashed to her sides, the adrenaline making him forget the numbness of his muscles. His powers died down from the surprise, leaving him cold again.

No, no, not this…!

-“Kiddo!!” He stopped in front of one of the walls, pounding onto it with as much strength he could gather in such condition. Panic replaced his fury and was making him shake. He couldn’t lose her, he couldn’t lose anyone else!

-“Answer me!!” he yelled at her through the ice, his nails scratching at the frozen surface painfully. His body was hurting so much from the cold…!

-“I… I’m alright!” he heard from the other side, and he could perceive some sort of silhouette through the thick wall of ice. The other’s voice was trembling, though it was probably more out of surprise than anything else. Or so he hoped… But soon, her words brought him back to reality: “The Time Piece, find it, we ne-”

However, the little girl didn’t have the time to finish her sentence as a new voice echoed around them:

-“My Prince~…!” it sang, gleefully: “I’ve finally found you…” In a single instant, Snatcher’s blood turned to ice and he instinctively turned his head to the source of the voice. Horror crossed his features as, finally, his eyes caught afamiliarform a dozen feet away, slowly approaching him. His limbs were frozen, fear paralyzing him, and he couldn’t help but remain completely still, unable to move as he saw his worst nightmare getting closer and closer.

This was happening, this was actually happening- and he was not ready, no, he wasn’t-

-“Snatcher, run!!” Poundings from inside of the ice prison broke him out of his trance and the former ghost came back to his senses. He couldn’t stay here! The life and survival of his group was entirely in his hands now.

Inhabited by a new determination, Snatcher started to search into the snow, looking for a sign, any sign, indicating the location of the Time Piece. Giggling could be heard behind him as the Queen approached him, only reminding him of the danger he and the child were in. He had to find it, he had to be fast…! His lungs hurt, and the only thing preventing him from collapsing from the cold and exhaustion was the adrenaline, pumping fast into his veins. He knew it wouldn’t last, and this was exactly why he needed to find it now.

This was a matter of life and death.

-“There you are~…!”

The young man took a second to look behind his back, his blue hands still into the snow, looking for any object he might encounter. The silhouette was now dangerously close and he could see her red, glowing eyes now. He had to find that hourglass, he had to find it, he had to-

Suddenly, his fingers bumped into something solid and his heart missed a bit. Could it be…? With a feeling of hope swelling inside of him, the former Prince grabbed the object and lifted it up, pulling it out of the snow. Instantly, a blue, glowing light emanated from what he was holding. A wave of relief suddenly hit him: the Time Piece! He had found it!

But this was not over yet.

Snatcher got up as fast as he could, almost stumbling back into the thick snow, and started to run…Feeling claws brushing his hair…

He knew very well who those claws belonged to. Dread and horror settled on him as he realized he had almost been caught. A single second too late, and it would have all been over… A chill ran down his spine, but he forced himself to ignore it, just like he was trying to ignore the pain, the exhaustion, the fear-

All he knew was that he was running, running fast, doing his best to get the Queen away from his group. It would be too risky to rewind time if Vanessa was around them- she could easily kill them all again for all he knew.

He needed to lead her somewhere else, where the others would be safe from her. But then, it hit him: how would he alert the rest of his group about his position…? He didn’t have a projectile badge! And no one would be able to hear him scream if he got too far away…!

-“Come back! Hehehehe~,” sing-sang a terribly familiar voice, right behind him. Vanessa was maybe quite hunchbacked… But she was immune to exhaustion. Snatcher, on the other hand, was not. And he could feel her claws lightly touching the scalp of his hair, and who knew when she would decide to use his powers to stop him…! Who knew when she would stop seeing this as a game…? He felt even more furious at that particular thought: she had murdered his friends and she was thinking of this as some twisted game! How dares she!

If he had to do something… It was now or never. And so, with that in mind…

Snatcher suddenly changed direction, confusing his pursuer momentarily. He took a deep breath and, with determination, charged a nearby tree. He held the Time Piece next to him, his arm out straight and ready to hit the frozen trunk of that three. He wouldn’t be able to stop to break the hourglass… So he might as well use his current speed to his advantage. The former shade narrowed his eyes, a single thought echoing his mind as he got closer and closer from the tree, a wish for the Time Piece to grant.

“Please let them be safe. Please, anything, as long as they’re alive and well, please, please…!”

A few seconds later, Snatcher’s arm hit the tree violently. He screamed from the pain, the latter intensified from how cold he was- but he didn’t have time to linger on it any longer. The shock made him lose his balance and he fell forward into the snow, forcing the air out of his lungs again. But before he could do anything…

A white, blinding flash made him shut his eyes hard.

-“What is-” Vanessa’s voice echoed behind him, but at least the light had made her stop.

He had managed to do it, he had done it, he had saved his team, this-

However, his train of thoughts was cut short as he felt his conscience blacking out for a short moment- perhaps an effect of the Time Piece? In any case, his mind seemed to have shut off for a few seconds, perhaps a few minutes, he couldn’t quite tell. Yet, when he came back to his senses, something felt… Different. Different just like when he had woken up in that body, different as if he were in a carnal envelope that wasn’t his, one that was both familiar and unfamiliar. But this wasn’t the time for this, no! He was still in danger, he-!

Snatcher turned back, quickly changing side to face the source of the danger- And immediately, his eyes fell on the Queen, who had been covering his eyes, her red glowing eyes… Just like him, the violent flash had blinded her, forcing her to shut her eyes. Her black, disheveled hair was flying with the wind, her black dress following that same dance. Groans left her mouth as she finally lowered her clawed hands…

And their eyes met.

“This is it,” realized the young man internally with horror: “this is how I’m gonna die.”

But Vanessa merely stared at him, as if her mind was processing something, as if she was trying to make sense of something she was seeing. What… What was going on? Why wasn’t she killing him now? She was having the perfect chance to! She looked away, her eyes scanning their surroundings, searching for something that wasn’t there anymore. Confusion spread on her face, and when she glanced back at him, she seemed even more perplexed.

Snatcher was completely paralyzed in fear, his eyes fixed on her, terror visible on his features. His body was trembling- but he wasn’t as cold as before. Actually, he was feeling much better, strangely! His lungs didn’t hurt anymore, he wasn’t feeling as tired as before… He felt pretty good actually, and he was not as much out of breath as he had first thought.

He frowned, confused and afraid, not daring to move. What was…

But his thoughts died down when Vanessa’s voice brought him back to reality:

-“Oh…” She let out a surprised and yet mother like sound, tilting her head on the side, a smile appearing on her face.

What… What was happening, whydid she- Snatcher’s thoughts became completely silent as his eyes fell onto his hands. They were… Much smaller than before, weren’t they…? And these clothes… He wasn’t wearing this, he was wearing something else before…! Why did those clothes seem so familiar? Why did this body looked so small, so frai-

Oh no.

-“My, what are you doing here…?” wondered the Queen with a coo, as she crouched to his level. Her expression had softened and she looked nothing like the monster who had been chasing him down: “Do I know you…?” she asked, waiting for an answer, her confusion having visibly calmed her down.

Oh no.

Snatcher crawled away : this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be possible, this-

His eyes moved to the shiny object next to them, to the hourglass that had been sitting in the snow after he had broke it. It was back to its previous state, unbroken. The little girls’ words immediately came back to his mind as his eyes couldn’t look away from the glowing artefact.

“But… It wouldn’t work in your case,” they had told him: “Because if you broke it again, you would just… Get younger. You wouldn’t go back to being dead.”

Snatcher hadn’t saved the others. No, on the contrary…

He had gotten younger instead.

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...... heheheheHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS FORESHADOWING COMING !! HA !

Hm. Anyway. I hope you liked this chapter !! Thank you for following my work and for being patient with me, it means a lot.

=> Chapter 21

[rebelwrites]

Piece By Piece - Part One

Killian Jones x Amber Davis

Summary: Killian and Amber always seemed to flirt but one night Killian decides to start breaking down the walls around her heart. Amber has never opened up fully to a guy from being burnt so many times in the past. Is she ready to go through that pain again? She doesn’t know but what she does know is that Killian has a certain effect on her and it scares the shit out of her. Every talks about finding their true love but is she ready to take that step to find hers?

Originally requested by @xbreezymeadowsx which gave me the inspo for a multi fic story // May I request prompt 6 w/ Hook? Maybe a bet comes around during Storybrooke’s version of Olympics or something fun like that? Reader and Hook captain rival teams. Please and Thank You. Prompt: "When I win your heart NAME, and I will win it. It won't be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me."

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Piece By Piece Masterlist

Today was the annual Storybrooke “olympics” well the first day of it anyway. The first day always consisted of finding out who was the captain and who was in the teams. Everyone always hoped Amber wa the captain and they were on her team as for the last 4 years she led her team to victory.

Leaning against the wall of the town hall Amber had a smoke hanging from her lips as she texted Emma. She was in her own little world and didn’t realise Killian was standing in front of her

“Davis” he said, clearing his throat, gaining the blondes attention.

“Jones” she said, rolling her eyes before looking back at her phone.

“You ready to be taken down this year?” He smirked.

“No because we all know whatever team I’m on I will win” Amber shrugged putting the phone back in her pocket.

“Hmmm we shall see about that love” he smirked “because I plan on taking you down this year”

“We shall see about that Jones” she winked, patting his chest before walking over to Emma.

“What was going on between you and hook?” Emam grinned as she hugged her friend.

“Nothing” Amber said bluntly “think he is just tryna get into my head”

“I think he was flirting” she winked.

“Stop with that” she sighed.

“You know I’m telling the truth in fact he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked away” she smirked “why don’t you give him a chance”

“Em you know his reputation, I’m not ready to deal with another broken heart okay” she sighed running her hand through her blonde curls.

Emma was the only one that knew that Amber thought he was hot and that she got flustered around him and every opportunity she got she teased her about it. Telling her to take the risk and give him a chance. But Amber couldn’t, she had been hurt too many times to count and it was all about protecting what was left of her heart, slowly putting the broken pieces back together.

“But he might be the one to pick up the broken pieces” she smiled as they walked into the town hall.

“Can we stop talking about it now” Amber said, glaring at her as she found a spare seat.

Leaning back in the chair Amber looked around the room, and found Killian watchingher , as soon as he realised that she was looking in his direction he smirked, winking at her. Rolling her eyes at him she turned her attention to Granny who was standing at the end of the room with a clipboard and a bucket.

“Right so the first captain is” she said dipping her hand into the bucket pulling a piece of paper out “Davis”

Amber knew the drill as she stood up making her way to Granny.

“And the second captain is” she said pulling another piece of paper “Jones”

Within minutes Killian was standing next to Amber with a smug smirk on his face as he winked.

“Told you I was gonna take you down Davis” he smirked.

“Pfft I’d like to see you try, we all know that my team is gonna win so what’s to point in trying” she said squaring up to him.

“Just kiss already” David shouted, making you roll her eyes again as well as giving him the bird.

It was now around 6pm and everyone was gathered at Granny's to have a few drinks to celebrate the start of the games. Amber started to feel a bit Overwhelmed with her team asking what the game plan was so she slipped outside with a beer in hand.

As she was leaning against the wall just letting the quiet wash over her , taking a deep breath she lit a smoke up watching the stars. She had always found the stars calming there was something about them that soothed her soul.

“Calming aren’t they love” Killian said leaning against the wall next to Amber.

“Yeah” she breathed “just wish I knew more about them you know like the constellations and stuff”

“Well if you want I can tell you about them and teach you how to navigate using them” he said.

��Maybe I will take you up on that offer at some point” she smiled.

“What are you doing out here on your own anyway?” Killian asked, moving so he was standing in front of her, his body pressing against hers.

“Just got a bit overwhelmed so needed a minute” she said, she couldn’t help herself as she kept looking from his eyes to his lips hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Well what do you say we sneak out, head to my ship and watch the stars with a bottle of rum” he smirked placing his hand against the wall above her head. Amber could feel his hot breath tickle her skin from how close he was.

It was like the words got stuck in her throat as his smirk grew wider.

“Cat got your tongue love?” He chuckled “I mean where’s the witty comments, where’s the sass?”

“Killian” Amber breathed.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you keep flicking between my eyes to my lips” he said

“We can’t do this” she breathed trying to resist temptation. “I can’t do this”

Hearing him sigh he pushed himself off the wall giving Amber her personal space back.

“When I win your heart Amber, and I will win it. It won't be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me." He nodded before walking away from you.

His steps were slow as she thought about what she really wanted. Taking a deep breath she threw the cigarette into the sand bucket before pushing herself off the wall.

“Killian wait” she said, fiddling with the sleeves of her hoodie as he stood still. “That offer still available?”

“Love of course it is” he smiled, spinning around to face her.

“I’m not used to you being this quiet love” Killian as nudging her shoulder “everything okay?”

“Everything is just fine” she smiled “sometimes it’s nice to to fully relax”

“Be Careful lass I might start thinking you are comfortable around me” he winked draping his arm over her shoulders.

“Just had to ruin it didn’t you” she giggled, swatting his chest playfully before taking the bottle of rum from him. “But it’s nice to just chill out and forget about the world for a while”

“It sounds like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders” Killian said as he soothingly rubbed her back.

“You don’t know the half of it” Amber mumbled.

“Well I’m a good listener if you ever need to talk” he whispered.

“Thank you” she nodded leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You know I think this is the most we have talked” Killian laughed.

“Yeah it’s kinda nice” she laughed while taking a drink from the bottle.

“Do you know how long it’s taken me to get you to let your walls down a bit” he whispered “I know I have a reputation but I meant what I said earlier about when I win your heart, it won’t be because of trickery it will be because your heart wants it. I know you have been through some messy relationships but I will wait as long as it takes”

“You’ve been speaking to Emma haven’t you?” She said looking up at him.

“She may have told me a few things” he smirked “but I understand why you are protecting what is left of your heart”

Amber didn’t say anything, she didn’t know what to say. This was a side of Killian she had never seen before. And she couldn’t lie, it made her heart swell. She didn’t know if it was from the rum or his scent that made her feel slightly buzzed but whatever it was she didn’t want this feeling to end.

A yawn escaped her lips and felt her eyes getting heavy.

“Come on lass I think it’s time for bed” Killian smiled as he stood up taking her hand to help her to her feet. “We have a busy day tomorrow”

He guided you through his ship to the bedroom.

“You are too sleepy to travel home but I sometimes sleep out here when I need to be alone” he smiled “I will sleep on the floor”

All she wanted to do was sleep so didn’t fully realise what she was doing but Killian did as he turned around whilst Amber stripped down before climbing into bed.

“Thank you for tonight” she whispered, resting her head on the pillow, his scent washing over her.

“Any time love, now get some sleep” he smiled as he threw some blankets on the floor.

“Killian”

“Yes lass” he responded.

“I don’t want to sleep alone” she mumbled “I miss being held, so can you just hold me whilst I sleep”

His smile grew a little bit wider as he realised slowly but surely he was chipping away at the walls around her heart.

“Of course” he nodded before he stripped down for bed.

As he climbed in, Amber couldn’t help but snuggle up to him, tangling her limbs with his and resting her head on his chest letting the sound of heartbeat be the lullaby she needed to slowly drift off to sleep. It was the first time in a while she felt at peace with the world and the first time in a while her heart felt a bit lighter. Maybe Emma was right, maybe Killian was the person to start piecing her heart back together. All she had to do was give him a chance.