#i was going to draw the crowd but i was already over 2 hours and approximately eleventy billion layers deep

[theradicalace]

i had. a vision.

[writhe]

hard day

i rush to get off work after a ~10 hr day and i get home and like. idk i don’t understand what people do. i dont like TV and it’s too cold and dark (very windy) to hike now and it’s like i just get home and i feel so lonely and under and overstimulated at the same time and just like. pass the time until bed wishing i wasn’t alone 

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters Meeting Your First Child Together (Wife!Reader)

Part 2 of this post! Time to find out who has daughters or sons first 😁 also requested by anon, but it was already drafted hehe~

Warnings: Blood mentions, birth complications in some (happy endings for all!)

Balin

Knitting was a bit of a struggle those days, you reflected as your elbows ached from bending to keep your needles above the curve of your belly. Balin sat in the armchair at your side, a hand idly drawing circles upon your thigh. Thus, he felt your sudden jerk, rose with you when you all but threw your needles and their work to the side table. "What is it?" He asked. "The chair," you cried out, "It's ruined!" Moisture seeped into the seat of it, a dark stain upon maroon velvet. "We can most likely get that out," Balin comforted you, a hand on yours, "But what is it?" "My water," you answered lowly, dread of realization creeping in on you. "What water?" "My water," you repeated urgently, dragging your husband by the arm, "I am going into labor!"

~

The only thing that got you through your labor was chuckling at Balin's attempts to hide his nerves, which somehow seemed greater than yours. Likely due to the way your body went into a near-primal focus, your every thought channeled not even into pushing your child out, but simply keeping them safe. Safe indeed, for soon a very loud cry pierced your ears. "Mahal," Oin remarked, dark eyes widening as he extended your newly-wrapped babe to you, "He's a strong one!" "He?" You asked. "He is strong!" Balin cried out, pulling you into his chest from where he stood, one hand reaching for your son, who immediately gripped his finger tight. "Oh, he is indeed!" "We did it," you sobbed into your husband's chest. "You did," Balin corrected, "I can't imagine how you endured all that." "All for him," you replied, gazing down at your son, whose eyes squinted open and blinked. Brown, just like his father's.

Dwalin

"Get out of the way! My wife is giving birth! Our child's coming!" All but shoving the crowds as he burst through with you in his arms, one hand wrapped less loosely about you so he could fling it out at offending pedestrians, Dwalin carried you down Erebor's halls all the way to Oin's. "It- It takes a long time, you know! The baby isn't coming right now," you stuttered out, jostled by your husband's brisk pace. "I'll not take my chances," Dwalin replied as he disappeared with you into the doorway.

~

"Stars above, why'd ya wait so long?" "Huh?" Your head snapped up from the bed you'd been draped onto, the world fading sharply back to focus amidst the pain. "You either took yer sweet time or else this is an unusually fast labor." Dwalin grinned down at you. "Now is not the time," you shot back, gritting your teeth. In the end, the agonies of labor were over for you in four hours' time. "Unusual all the way around," Oin remarked, settling the mewling babe in your arms, "You two've got yourselves a little girl." "'N she's going to look just like you, too," Dwalin told you, reaching a tattooed hand out to stroke your daughter's cheek and nuzzling against your head.

Thorin

Thorin knew by the way you gripped his arm, swiveled his head to meet your eyes and see your faint nod. Register the fear in your eyes and cup your cheek gently. He was prepared, bringing you a blanket to hold beneath you when your water began to seep through your skirt. Your husband led you by the hand as you waddled with the blanket between your legs all the way to Thorin’s most trusted healer, his old journey’s companion.

~

“You can do this. I have seen firsthand how much you can endure. You were made to do this, my love.” “I know,” you whined, unconcerned how pitiful you sounded for despite being a queen, at that moment you were a woman in pain. Pain that had gone on for hours, burning and tearing through your body. “The head is stuck,” Oin told you. “No,” you breathed. “I’m afraid I may have to widen the opening. Looking up to meet Thorin’s eyes, you simply tightened your grip on his hand, squeezing your eyes shut tight when the healer took up a small blade and letting out a cry of agony as he cut. Finally, though, blessedly, a weight lifted as your little one came free with a sound of confusion. Panting, you gave your husband a weak smile, sitting up a bit further and wincing at the pain, enduring to hold your newborn. “My son. Our son. A new prince is born to Erebor,” Thorin whispered, leaning down to connect your foreheads, warmth pooling even amidst the sweat glistening there, “I cannot take away your pain, but I will do anything in my power to be the best king, husband, and father you both could ask.” “You already are,” you told him, laying your hand over his, which was joined with your son’s.

Oin

"It's time, isn't it?" "How did you know what I was about to say?" You asked him, head cocked. "Because I've seen the signs a thousand times," Oin reminds you, "Now come on. Go get yourself comfortable. I've got everything ready." Patting your shoulder and kissing your cheek, he guides you to your bed and leaves the room, only to return with his supplies. "I'll go put the kettles on." "Why two?" "One to keep me clean 'n one for your tea." Oin had, in fact, told you about the tea he made patients to help with their pain. You nodded. "Of course. I trust my healer." The affection in your husband's eyes matched your own gaze as he disappeared through the door one more time.

~

"Yer doin' great." "I don't feel like I am," you cried. "Shh, I know," Oin soothed, making his way back up to your head to kiss you, "It'll all be over soon, though. Promise. In fact, can you give me one more push?” For all the frustration you may have felt, your husband was both delivering your little one and reassuring you. He was doing amazing for your baby and you could do the same. Whimpering and straining, you pushed until a cry pierced the room. “You did it! A wee thing, too. Oh, oh, love, it’s a girl! We had a girl!” Daughters were all too rare among dwarvenkind. Eyes widening and lips parting, you leaned over to let Oin wipe the sweat from your brow with one newly-cleaned hand after he handed over your daughter. Tears poured from his eyes as he rested his hand over yours that held your daughter’s. “I’ve seen this a thousand times, and yet this is like never before. Thank you for this gift.” Whispering your name, he guided you gently by the chin into a kiss of pure love and gratitude.

Gloin

“Are you alright?” Your husband’s voice was like a buzz beneath the ring of your ears, lightheadedness overtaking you until you felt a hand take yours and heard a louder, firmer call of your name. No anger colored it, just concern that had you finally swinging your head Gloin’s way. Soon as your eyes met his, you nodded faintly and smiled before the spots dancing in your vision won.

~

When you awoke, your brother-in-law was checking your pulse, nodding as you started. “She’s doin’ better,” Oin told Gloin, “Get back up there, she’s going to start pushing.” Shuffling back up from his brother’s side to yours, your husband took your hand, gently smoothing your hair and dabbing cold sweat off your brow with his sleeve. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he told you, and off you went into another haze of pain and encouragement and anticipation. Oin’s cry of victory actually alerted you both to the birth before the baby made a sound, emerging into the air with a small whine of confusion and near annoyance that had you and Gloin chuckling. The baby started crying as Oin checked him over, fussing in your arms as Gloin leaned down to rest his forehead over his new addition’s. “I’m a da. I’ve finally got a son of my own,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Bifur

“Bifur!” Plodding footsteps filled your vision as your husband tore into the room, almost careening into your dresser. Entering the room, his dark eyes widened as he caught side of you folded over, your water leaking onto your shared bed. “The blankets,” you panted, “I’m sorry…” Waving a hand and shaking his head, Bifur dismissed you, removing his gloves to caress your cheek and feel your forehead before he lowered you down and gestured for you to wait. Squeezing your hand when you nodded in agreement, he disappeared out the door in search of Oin.

~

Gasps sounded at your feet as Oin motioned for Bifur to join him and rake up a tool. Muscle memory kept the feeling and warmth of your husband’s hand in yours alive for another moment, but you all but forgot it in the panic of Oin tracing a circle around his neck. The cord was wrapped. Spears of ice pierced your heart as you watched your husband frantically aid the healer, eyes stone in focus and motions deliberate. After what felt like hours, you saw both their chests rest in exhales. “He’s alright,” Oin told you, “Your son will be just fine.” Crying out, you reached out your arms, embracing your husband and then sobbing into the blanket that held your new addition. You could tell by his wisps of black hair, the shape of his nose, that he was going to look just like his father. “Our miracle,” you sobbed to Bifur and Oin, “You are true heroes. Thank you. Our son will have no shortage of great dwarves to look up to.”

Bofur

“Bofur, my labor is beginning.” “Your what?” Wincing, you shuffled forward to clutch your husband by the collar. “Your child is coming, so I suggest you get some help unless you’d like to have a fun adventure with our rug later.” Swallowing, Bofur nodded. “Right. On my way.”

~

“And I’ll never forget the day I met you. When I saw you I thought ‘There’s simply no way she could be real’. Goodness me, if I’m not thinking the very same right now.” Bofur’s hand never left yours and his mouth never stopped moving, even if you were in no state to respond. Contorting with the pain, you cried out as your body gave its all, spending yourself for one last push. “See what I mean? Oin just caught the wee bairn. You’re all done! Just pushed a whole baby out all by yourself. Plain amazing’s what it is.” “And a girl no less!” Oin chimed in, slashing the cord as your daughter began to cry. “Hear that, love? A little dwarrowdam!” Smiling at your husband, you felt a tear slide down and mingle with the sweat glistening upon your cheek. Oin placed her in your arms and Bofur bent over to meet her blinking eyes. “Hello there! It’s me, yer da! I’m the one who’s going to buy you everything you want, alright?” “Not even five minutes old and she already has you wrapped around her finger,” you teased. “Damn right.” Bofur kissed her head, then yours.

Bombur

“Bombur.” “I’m on it.” Your sweet husband needed only a word to rush off across your home, fetching you a pot and holding it beneath you. “What’s this for?” “The water,” he answered, nodding down to where your skirt soaked through. “Oh,” you accepted one of the cold steel handles, “right. That works.” “You ready? I’ll get yer bag too.” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer with a smile.

~

Taking a cloth, your husband wiped the sweat off your forehead gently, patting your cheek affectionately. “Still doing alright?” “Best I can,” you grunted. “Everything look good down there? Well, good as it can,” Bombur amended with a glance down to his old companion, who nodded. Bombur had been asking questions and checking in the whole times, not to mention keeping you as clean and comfortable as could be. Rather that annoy you, it made you smile to see how much he cared. You had a healer, yes, but a nurse also. “Almost here,” he said, “just a few more pushes, eh?” Exhaling sharply, you focused all your might, forcing your muscles harder than you thought possible until a wail pierced the room. “You’ve done it,” Oin congratulated you, crossing the room with a little bundle in hand. Reaching out, Bombur wrapped his hands gently around the little one, lowering your baby down to let you uncover her head, which already had whisps of red hair. "She's beautiful." "'Course she is," Bombur replied, nuzzling into your cheek, "Came out o' you, didn't she?"

Dori

"Love, are you alright?" "Yes." You paused, crumpling and wincing beneath the crash of more pain. "Wait, no. That is to say I've never felt this before. I think my labor has started." No more words were necessary; flitting about your home, Dori fetched blankets and a skin of water and all manner of other supplies. "Will Oin not have all we need?" "Can't be too sure," your husband replied, striding to your side and smoothing your hair before he caressed your face, blue eyes staring into yours, "I want you to be safe, you know. I love you." And what could you say? You loved him, too, for all his quirks and for that big beautiful heart.

~

"Is that normal? That's not normal, is it?" Oin had drawn you a warm bath, lowering you into the water and checking your progress. "What's he doing all this for?" "To relax her," the healer replied to your nervous husband with a shake of his head, "And yes, this happens. 's just a slow labor is all. Some of 'em rush on out and others take their time. I suspect your wee bairn is just in no hurry." No hurry indeed. For all your pains of labor, it was almost 20 hours to the minute before your bath ran red and plaintive cries of confusion drifted into the air, Dori's fretting and even apologizing to you for putting you in this position turning to gripping your hand and all but leaping in anticipation. "You did it," he congratulated you quietly, embracing you without care of the water, sweat, and Mahal knew what else soaked you. "You sure did," Oin agreed, smiling as you accepted your little one, whose face was still red from crying, "She's here." "A daughter," Dori whispered, "A little girl! All my dreams are coming true and it's all thanks to you. How could I ever thank you? You'll never want for anything, neither of you, not love or warmth or all the pretty things you'd ever want."

Nori

Nori’s arms were snaked around your middle when you jerked forward, pushing his hands away. “For goodness sakes, you could’ve just said you didn’t want to-” “No,” you waved a hand frantically, feeling the gush of liquid trickling out, “My water just broke, Nori. It is time.” “Right now?” “Sorry if it’s inconvenient for you,” you sassed. At that, your husband smiled faintly and shook his head. “Not at all. In fact," he quipped, "I was a bit bored.”

~

“Push!” “What does it look like I’m doing?” Now your ire is focused on Oin, bringing many a snicker forth from Nori. At least until you crush his hand with a steel grip, crying out and falling limply against the sheets on which you lie. “That felt like something. Am I done?” “Almost,” the healer replied, his head popping over the curve of your heaving body, “The other head’s coming out now.” Double-taking between Oin and you, Nori bursts out, “The other head?” “Congratulations,” Oin agrees roughly, hands glistening with blood as he cuts a cord, “You’re a strong one, my friend- you made two at once!” At that, he bursts into a raucous laugh, gingerly transferring each of your sons into Nori’s arms. Bringing them closer, your husband grins like a dwarf showing off his most precious gems. “Look at that, love, two for the price o’ one. Our handsome little lads.”

Ori

Ori had been asking you every day at just about any hint of discomfort if the baby was coming, jumping up before you could tell him no, just a hard kick or your back troubling you again. Thus, the same he had done that day, so caught in the fray of his actions that he failed to think about why you weren't stopping him. At least, that was, until you finally met his eyes with a nod and a nervous smile that sent him pitching sideways. Only, of course, to promptly catch himself and, wide-eyed, take your hand and lead the way.

~

"You sure you want 'im in here?" Oin asked you, peering up with a teasing glint in his eye. "He looks more afraid than you do!" "He is my husband," you replied indignantly, tightening your grip on Ori's hand, "And I am quite certain I would faint too if I saw the head half-stuck right now." "Oh, beyond half," the healer told you, "Couple good pushes and I daresay you'll be done." Hearing Ori's gasp of excitement had your eyes shining with even more determination than the older dwarf's words, and focusing all your might you pushed and pushed until you felt a weight lifted, your body relaxing. "He's out! A little lad, too!" "Hear that?" Ori turned to you, gathering you up into his arms. "We've got a son! Our son is here!" "'N he's a gentle thing," Oin told you, laying him in your arms, "Didn't even fight me." "He's sweet," you gushed at the sight of your son nuzzling into your bare skin and leaning up to kiss your husband's cheek, "Just like his da."

Fili

“I think I’m in labor.” “You think?” Blue eyes wide and golden brows raised, Fili stares incredulously at you. “I feel it. I feel the pain. But where is my water?” Glancing back up, you see your husband inhale sharply, exhale and steady his expression. Truly a king in the making. “Oin will know,” he tells you, urgently but calmly, “Let us go.” Nodding and taking a deep breath of your own, you take his hand and make your way.

~

Labor indeed. All the other signs matched and soon- or far sooner than you had hoped- you are pushing, Fili’s hand firmly clasping yours and his head resting atop your own, braids dangling over you as you pant and work. From your feet, you see the healer’s eyes widen and lips part, rounding in surprise. “Is something wrong?” “No, no,” Oin shakes his head, “This is simply a marvel. Your heir coming in a veiled birth.” Frowning, you immediately ask him what he means. “See for yourself,” he replies, showing you the reason your water had not broken. The baby had emerged still inside the birth sac. “Does that harm them?” Fili asked. “Not at all. This is just a very rare sight. You may not want to watch this part.” Fili took both of your hands in his, leaning his forehead against yours as Oin extricated and cleaned the little one. “A veiled babe and a girl. What are the odds?” Accepting your daughter, you grinned up at Fili. “We have a princess!” “Our little queen in the making,” your husband agreed, caressing your daughter’s cheek as a rear rolled down his, “A true miracle.”

Kili

Poor Kili- you had been sitting on his lap when the break happened. Venturing your name with the utmost caution-and fear of your hormones- your husband asked, “Do you, by chance, need help getting to the lavatory?” Shaking your head even as it was hidden in your hands, you told him, “No. Kili, that was my water. The babies.” “Now?” “Now,” you agreed with a nod. Shooting up from his seat and all but yanking you into his arms, he lifted you bridal-style. “Kili, you’ll get wet!” “Already am. May as well give the babies as much time with Oin as possible.”

~

As much time ad possible being a near-record-speed delivery of three and a half hours. “Impatient little buggers,”Oin teased, tossing aside a red-stained cloth, “But strong little fighters. The sister kicked especially hard!” Chuckling, he lowered the aforementioned girl twin into your husband’s arms, handing you your son. They squirmed considerably less when you held them, both of you loosening your upper garments to hold them against skin. “She gets it from her mother, no doubt,” Kili teased with a wink as if he wasn’t crying, “But the good looks? That’ll be us both. This is all so beautiful. This is the most beautiful thing beyond anyone's imagining. Thank you for being the one to share this with me.”

Bilbo

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" "Yes, Bilbo," you chuckled despite the pain coursing through your body, "All I need right now is to have you with me." "And Matilda," your husband named your neighbor and midwife who was on her way. "And Matilda," you agreed with a faint nod, "Now come here. Please." "Of course, dear," Bilbo agreed, shuffling across the room so quickly you could hear every hard step clattering off the boards.

~

"Is she going to be alright?" "Yes, she's still doing great," Matilda replied with an equal mix of amusement and exasperation at your husband, who leaned over to speak to her and immediately balked at the sight of your body dilated, a head beginning to emerge. "I- I feel a bit faint." "Try being me," you shot back as he returned to your side fully. "You're right," he nodded, fingers curling even tighter around yours for the last pushes. After what felt like ages, Matilda finally called up "Cutting the cord!" Her voice barely rose above the cries. "Hear that?" "I do," you answered Bilbo with a nod, tears welling up in your eyes. "You should be proud," Matilda told you, cleaning up your babe and handing her off to the pair of you, as both of you extended hands simultaneously, "She's beautiful." Bilbo lowered her to where you lie, pushing back the folds of her blanket so her skin could touch yours. Wispy hair curled atop your newborn daughter's head. "I never thought anything could be so beautiful, but here we are," your husband told you, voice barely above an awed whisper, "My girls."

Thranduil

"Thranduil." Your husband smirked at the way you panted his name, glancing upward only for that very expression to melt into horror at your buckling knees. Rushing to grasp your hand, he simply says, "It is time, is it not?" Nodding, you allow him to lead you all the way to the healing chambers, breathing heavily and wincing with each crashing wave of pain.

~

Despite his wide eyes, your husband keeps calm and speaks well the entire birth. "Focus on what is above you," he distracts, golden voice soothing as ever, "What do you see?" "Branches," you breathe, huffing with the force of your latest push, "Lights." "Remember the festival of starlight?" "I daresay that was when we conceived," you grunt, "Remind me to write an edict discontinuing it." At that, Thranduil simply chuckles deeply and winces at the way your voice breaks into tears. "Good," your midwife encourages you, "One more push, My Queen. One more. That is it. Find your strength." Your face contorts in frustration, but you comply, body wracked with one final stab before lying still. "Well?" Thranduil immediately asks. "Is the child healthy?" "Small, but breathing very well. A lovely little princess, My Lord." "My little princess," he all but gasps, head swiveling back your way, "Our daughter is here." A weight falls into his arms, and leaning down Thranduil reveals your little gift to you. Eyes still closed, your daughter wails and reaches for the air with delicate little hands. "Our beautiful woodland princess."

Feren

"Feren." "Yes, my love?" "Feren," you breathe with greater insistence in your loss for words, "I think it is happening." "Right now?" "Yes," you sit up in bed, throwing the blankets off your lap and inhaling sharply. Luckily, you have no need to tell your husband twice; he all but bounds across the bedroom to retrieve your things and find a robe to wrap you in, one hand guiding you up and to the side of the bed. "Breathe, breathe. One moment; I will fetch help." At first, you were reluctant to release his hand, but finally you nodded and let him go. When he returned, a midwife rushed to your side where you squatted and your husband to the other, where he took your hand and immediately winced at your vicelike grip.

~

Both you and Feren were red in the face and streaked with tears before you heard the wail; your husband from the pain of his hand and of hearing and seeing your body, voice, and expression all rent in agony. Every head in the room turned to face the sound, though, pain almost forgotten. With a soft white cloth that quickly reddened, your midwife cleaned the skin of your newborn. Who was, by the looks of it... "A son! My darling, a son is born to us! Our little boy is here." "Let me see," you cried out, reaching your hands for the elfling extended to you and lowering him to the bared skin of your chest. He was beautiful. "Perfect," you sobbed, "He is perfect." "Just like you," Feren adds with a kiss to your forehead.

Bard

The moment you crumpled, Bard took one look at you and nodded solemnly. “One moment,” he told you, rushing back into the house and calling requests to the girls. Through a wave of pain you saw Tilda hand her father the bag you’d packed as he made his way back to your side. You felt your hand clutched tightly again. “We make for the midwife’s.” At that, all you could do was nod. Luckily for you, she lived close enough that you needn’t take a barge, though the increasing difficulty of hurried walking and weaving through crowds of fisherman and sellers almost had you wishing you did. Your husband called to them to move, his wife was in labor, and luckily many of them began to part at that. All too soon another wave of pain came and Bard hoisted you into his arms, carrying you over the raised threshold of the wooden house that was your midwife’s home.

~

Hours. Hours it took, hours that wracked your body and soul as your mind was kept knit only by the grace and care of your husband. The midwife's care as well, of course, but all memory beyond the veil of pain went to the feeling of his hand around yours. Bard's grip, warm and solid right up until the moment cries filled the room. "It's a girl," the older woman breathed from at your feet, "A healthy little girl." "A daughter! Oh," Bard told you, bringing your baby closer, "The girls will be thrilled. And look, see how she looks just like you." Looking down, you pushed aside the blanket from your newborn daughter's head, seeing soft strands of hair the same color as yours. "As I had hoped," your husband added.

Beorn

“Three babies. Remind me again why it had to be three babies.” “My people commonly-” “I know, I know!” One arm slung over your shoulders and one tightly gripping your waist, Beorn led you from the garden back into the house. “Do you care to lay or to squat?” “Squat,” you panted. Acquiescing your request, your husband releases you at the bedpost once your hands leave his to grip the wood. “Let me boil some water. I will be right back.” Sometimes you wished he would be less serious. This was not one of those times. Calm washed over you at the sheer capability Beorn displayed, the confidence so present or so well affected. Taking a deep breath as a contraction hit, you attempted to mirror his manner.

~

“There was one. How do you feel?” “Lighter,” you groaned in between pushes. “Glad to see you have yet to lose your sense of humor. That one was a boy, my heart. Our firstborn son has arrived.” “A son,” you breathed, wincing as another massive contraction came. “Yes, yes, that is it.” A second cry filled the room, this one a bit quieter than your son’s. “And a daughter. Only one more. Whether you know it, you have the strength.” Finally a third set of cries filled the room, these the loudest by far. “Another son. Two boys and a girl.” Smiling, Beorn gently lowered one of your sons into your arms, the other babes swaddled in each of his. “This one looks like you,” you remarked, smiling at your husband though you did not bother peeling your eyes from your new baby yet. His eyes were well occupied with your daughter anyhow. “And I can tell this one will have her mother’s eyes. Much more beyond that, we can hope. …Hope. For my people after so long.” Eyes falling shut, Beorn let tears of joy and relief flow from his eyes before bringing you and his other son into one massive embrace.

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[quibbs126]

So I’ve been making this

So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea

It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed

I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night

Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning

Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference

The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted

Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that

Edit: I did indeed do that

To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them

This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate

But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though

I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?

[popatochisssp]

Would it be too much to ask what kind of jobs the new skeles might have since you already shared bram would be a groundskeeper at a cemetery?

Looks like I never officially did this one for Wave 2, just Wave 1 over here.

So, while we’re at it, let's do 2 and 3!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s semi-unemployed, or self-employed depending on how you look at it. He busks, playing his trombone out on the street and accepting donations from anyone who feels so inclined. He likes playing music and the idea of brightening peoples’ days in the middle of their commute, so the money doesn’t really matter to him. Sometimes he picks up small gigs at local venues, mostly by word of mouth, and eventually he breaks into the tutoring scene—teaching his favorite instrument to young aspiring musicians who find the same joy in it that he does.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a professor at the local community college, teaching anthropology. He’s passionate about the subject and can’t think of anything he’d rather do than share it with a classroom of humans who probably have no idea how interesting they really are. If only one student walked away from his class with a new appreciation for what humanity’s all about then he’s fulfilled—but he tends to send a lot more away with that than just one, since he’s a very popular, friendly, and accessible teacher.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s self-employed, knitting blankets at home and selling them online. He doesn’t need a job at all, between the Queen and his brother, money’s not an issue, but he’d go crazy if he didn’t have something to do all day, and nobody wants to see what he looks like when he goes crazy. He takes commissions often, but other times he just makes things according to whatever he’s feeling and what color yarn he has handy and sells to whoever feels like buying it.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): He works as a physical therapist. He more or less taught himself to walk again after losing his leg, and a second time after getting a replacement, so he very personally understands the need that exists for people who are injured and want to get back to their normal life—but maybe lack the discipline, the knowledge, or the tools to take that journey solo. He’s hard on his patients and sadistically merciless, but his success rate in terms of mobility recovered is very high and any complaints after the fact are begrudging at worst.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a home baker, making cakes and small pastries for a small but growing client base. He likes the freedom of getting to pursue his passions seriously and to be his own boss, set his own hours, screen his own clients, et cetera. He puts a lot of time and care into what he makes, both in terms of flavor and decoration, and finds nothing quite so satisfying as a repeat customer or a glowing review and recommendation to someone new.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Freelance programming is what he does for cash. It was something he could both learn how to do and actually do remotely, without the need for more than the bare minimum of in-person contact. He likes problem-solving, and complaining about the problem-solving, and the field is pretty much always in demand so if he’s bored of certain kinds of jobs, or sick of the person giving him the jobs, he can jump ship at any time and be a contractor someplace else.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He’s a boxer, more amateur than pro so he doesn’t make a ton doing it, at least not consistently, but he likes fighting and draws in a decent crowd by being a bit of a spectacle (a blind skeleton in the ring) so the entertainment value is worth something. Aside from that, eventually, he fills in for his brother as a combination business partner/agent/accountant, helping him get jobs and keep clients and manage the money he makes doing so.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s unemployed for a long while, but ultimately breaks into professional photography, with a specialty in travel photographs. He likes taking pictures and getting to see the world in the process, and it helps that it’s a family business so he and his brother have pretty much full control over what jobs he takes and for how much. He doesn’t really concern himself with the money numbers, though, he just likes filling out his portfolio with gorgeous locales all around the world.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He does a lot of odd jobs, all over the place, generally (things that are considered) unskilled labor—bussing tables, janitorial work, desk clerking, that kind of thing. He doesn’t like the thought of getting too stuck into any one thing and being unable to try something else out later if it doesn’t work out, and there’s something to be said for the satisfaction of being closely connected to the results of your labor. Sometime down the line he will end up sticking in one career, as a dealer for a casino, because it combines his social, charming nature with his sharp eye and quick hands, but until then he’s happy to bounce around.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He’s a bookkeeper at a nondescript company. He’s organized and thorough with record-keeping and double-checking data, and he likes putting those skills to use to make sure his employer’s finances and transactions all balance out at the end of the day. Some might find it boring work and he could almost certainly qualify for a much more ‘prestigious’ job doing something else, but he’s satisfied having a job that doesn’t require all of his effort and brainpower, so he can save some of that for his personal life and private interests.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s a nomad, a wanderer, he has no job. He’s a robot in the shape of a monster—ostensibly still a monster, even so—in a world full of humans that as yet believe monsters don’t exist, so even if he wanted a job, getting one would be logistically difficult. Luckily, he feels no special need to be gainfully employed and just spends his time wandering around and taking in the world. If he needs something, he’ll either just take it or use one of his brother’s accounts to pay for it.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a performer, a disc jockey who mixes, makes, and plays music to crowds at clubs, raves, and discos, anywhere he’s welcome. He takes advantage of the perception of his holographic form as an artist’s gimmick, like Daft Punk, Hatsune Miku, dead musicians projected onto stages to play posthumously… In his defense, that last one is sort of exactly what he is, except he didn’t really start making music until after he died. Still, he has fun doing it and adores the fame he’s steadily gaining as a popular, cutting-edge technology music act.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He does aura readings for people. For those interested to know, he shares his perception of their colors and the flow of energy in and around them, and just generally describes the sense he gets about a person. What he does is really more of a soul read than an aura read, so a lot of the color meanings and terminology he uses contrast with the kind of readings his clients may get from humans who practice something a little bit different. Still, he’s earnest in his desire to help people understand themselves and their energies and emotions, so he gets a lot of recommendations and repeat clientele who trust he’s the real deal.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): He works as an event planner, organizing gatherings, arranging vendors, booking venues, the whole nine. He has a great reputation for making things go smoothly and always seems to be able to talk out bumps and snags before they ever become a major problem. He also maintains great relationships with people in the industry and delights in having connections just about everywhere in case he needs to call on a favor to make something happen for a client. He's got the magic touch and the silver (gold) tongue that makes everything fall into place just so.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He works as a clerk at a pawn shop. He gets to handle a lot of interesting items and assess roughly how much they’d be worth, and he’s pretty good at haggling and negotiating with people who might not agree with said assessments. Sometimes people will come in with broken stuff they wouldn’t be able to get too much for, but maybe he can cut ‘em a deal, fix it up on his own dime and if they come back for it, great—and if they don’t, his boss’ll be happy to have something that works to sell to somebody else at a markup, how ‘bout it? He does a brisk business and both sides of the counter love him.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s in construction. He’s huge, strong, takes direction well, and diligently follows rules and protocols—he’s an ideal fit for it. He likes to work hard and be able to see a job come together, knowing he had a part in it and being satisfied with the quality of his contribution. He especially likes to take every safety training and equipment certification course he can attend because he likes knowing what the rules are and being specifically told how certain procedures are run, machines operated, et cetera. He’s very likely to be apprenticed in as a foreman if not the inheritor someday of the construction business by its current owner for his work ethic and dedication, but that’ll be a long ways from now.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He works as an independent auditor and combs through companies’ records, internal and external documentation, processes, and accounting and ensures everything is being done in accordance with industry standards. In short, he shows up, demands to see everything they have, and looks through it to see if they’ve lied, did something wrong, or lost information they weren’t supposed to. Sometimes he can do this remotely but other times he has to travel out to a physical office somewhere and sit down with a bunch of stuffed file cabinets, and he really doesn’t mind either way. He likes the work and he’s good at it—maybe because he’s good at it—and he finds it satisfying to catch the tiniest little misses and errors to demand an accounting of them.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s a trail maintenance worker for Ebott National Park. He walks the paths and hiking trails and makes sure they’re safe and unobstructed for visitors, as well as whatever odd jobs in the area that happen to come up—looking out for invasive species, helping with a bench install, directing lost tourists, that kinda thing. It’s not especially glamorous work but it’s pretty much exactly where he wants to be and he’s happy to do it, probably wouldn’t pick any other job in the world…except maybe to volunteer for a seasonal fire-watch position and do pretty much the exact same thing, but more isolated and with a big cool tower to sit in.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He works as a mortician at a local funeral home. He generally isn’t expected (read: allowed) to deal with grieving families, that’s more the funeral director’s purview, but he works behind the scenes embalming, processing, and otherwise preparing the dead for their final party and last ride home. He has a strong stomach—or rather, no stomach at all—and doesn’t get squeamish or emotional about the dead, so that works out. They also let him work nights so he has several long, quiet hours of methodically going through the routine with no (living) humans around to irritate him or vice-versa. Sounds like a good gig to him.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): Yes, still a groundskeeper for the cemetery and loving it. It was something he kind of fell into through his brother, when he didn’t really know what he wanted to do on the Surface, but his brother sends dead humans off to their final resting place and said final resting place was looking for someone to dig holes, mind the grass, keep everything looking neat and nice—and that’s certainly something he can do! He also works nights, being that monsters are almost entirely nocturnal these days, so he’s also an unintentional scarecrow deterrent to teenagers sneaking in late for partying or spooky dares when they see a slim, bony silhouette materialize out of the shadows with a shovel in hand, asking if they’re just visiting or thinking about moving in.…

[sunshine-theseus]

Lego House | Aggie Beever-Jones x Reader

Words: 3.8k Summary: 2 years together basically means forever, no matter what happens. inspired by Ed Sheeran’s ‘Lego House’ Warnings: injury, you guys know I don’t stick to actual events so, slightly suggestive maybe? this is for me but also kinda for @perfectpersuasion because they seemed really excited about it

“Headphones?”

“Check.”

“Chargers?”

“Check.”

“Passport?”

“Double check.”

“Then why am I 100% sure it’s still in your top draw?” I dramatically reach across to my bag to prove that my passport is in fact packed safely in the secret pocket that I designated purely to the piece of identification.

But it’s empty, and I have to bashfully turn back to Aggie to admit it isn’t where it’s supposed to be. She only gives me a pointed look and I’m standing up and dragging my feet behind me to grab the passport from my bedside table draw.

“I swear I put it in there Ags. Last night after training.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re doing the checklist. It happens every time, you forget something.” Once I slide the small book into my bag I drop back down onto our couch, leaning into my girlfriend. She wraps her arms around me, and I bury my head in her neck, feeling the regretful late-night yesterday setting in.

“Come on we’ve got to be boarding the bus in an hour and who knows how long it’ll take us to get there.”

~~~~~

Naturally Aggie and I sit next to each other on the bus and/or the plane when the team travels for matches. We usually take a spot toward the back, or wherever is least populated or energetic, so that we can just be there together. Our hands are almost always interlocked and I’m usually leaning on her shoulder as we talk about our play or whatever interesting things going on.

“I’m nervous.” I whisper in her ear as we begin the decent into Gothenburg.

“Everyone underestimates us because we’re young, so when you get on that pitch, either starting or as a sub, you show them you belong at Chelsea, and that we belong in the Champions League. Okay?” When she looks at me to confirm my answer I lean forward, pressing a small kiss to her lips.

A flash goes off in the corner of my eye and I turn to find Zecira holding the media crew camera.

“The fans are going to love that.” Smiling a toothy grin, she turns to someone else, leaving us be.

-

The dark December sky encourages the cold and the light dusting of snow that begins to cover the tarmac. I wrap an arm around Aggie’s as we wheel our bags into the airport, trying not to fall face first on the slippery surface.

The warmth inside is welcomed as we are guided past the large crowds and onto the bus. Once again, I take my spot beside Aggie, behind Jessie and Niamh who were talking about Jessie’s new favourite tea. A calmness settles over everyone as Emma announces who’s rooming with who, which we all basically already know. 9 times out of 10 it’s the person currently sitting next to us.

Opening the door to our room brings great relief as I flop onto the bed closest to the window. Despite the two queen sized beds on either side of the room, it was inevitable that I’d end up curled up in my girlfriend’s arms as we huddle under the blankets, the other bed left untouched. This also usually meant that our room was the one to come to for activities, an extra bed meaning more space.

Aggie stands staring out the window, the city spanning across the horizon as the sun begins the set, the blue barely beginning to fade into purples and pinks. Old buildings and the river that runs through the architecture draw her eye as I stand behind her, taking in the way her body rises as she breathes, and the twitch in her lips as she spots something she finds beautiful, a certain spark in her eye. One that’s always there when she looks at me, hard to ignore.

“Did you bring your camera?” I ask as I slot in beside her. A hum in answer suffices as we take in the moment.

“We’re really here. Together.” I press kisses to her shoulder.

“Stamford Bridge is one thing but, we’re playing in the fucking Champions League. We’re not sat on the bench forever, we actually get minutes, not matter how little.”

“And we’re going to fucking win tomorrow’s match. Consider it an extra anniversary present.” Aggie chuckles and I feel the butterflies that burst to life in my stomach every time I look at her.

My mind drifts to the real present that sits carefully in a compartment of my bag for our anniversary tomorrow. My mum insisted it was perfect for Aggie and despite my hesitancy, I had to agree.

“We should head down for dinner.” Aggie leans down to kiss me before we leave.

~~~~~

Emma gave us a few hours to explore the city in the morning before we had to begin training and warming up for tonight's match. Jessie, Niamh and Zecira join us in the foyer, and we start our journey through the Swedish city, Zecira eager to introduce us to her country's traditions.

Not long into the walk, we stumble upon a small café on a terrace. We slide into a table and order our respective drinks, Aggie additionally getting a kardemummabröd, cardamom bread, for us to share. Niamh refuses to be apart of the picture that I take of the group at the table, but I manage to convince her to smile for the camera as we head back down onto the street.

The group splits into 2 after that. Aggie and I leave to seek out some flowers and a quiet spot to spend time together for our anniversary, while the others head back to the hotel, desperate to stay warm, although Jessie doesn’t seem to mind the cold winds.

“Look! They have red carnations!” Aggie is the one to point out the flower stand, full of red and green, that holds bunches of my favourite flower.

When the shop owner sees our linked hands, she smiles, the corner of her eyes wrinkling as they light up.

“For free.” She pushes Aggie’s hand away as she tries to pay for the red carnations.

“Love is enough payment.” I slip some money onto the bench as we leave, heading to an empty but rather beautiful park across the road.

“Happy anniversary.” I press a kiss to her cheek as I hand her the small bag. Inquisitively, she opens it and the box that sits on the bottom, revealing the gift.

“It’s a family ring. Handed down through a bunch of generations. The oldest kid gets it to give to their partner, the one they and the family think is the one. The person they’ll spend the rest of their life with, who makes them the best them.” I explain the origins as I take the ring from the box and slip it onto her hand. The gold band holds a small, encrusted peridot gem and fits perfectly on Aggie’s hand.

“Thank you. I love it.” Her voice is soft and watery, and her cheeks flame red when she looks at me. I can only imagine the love that adorns my face as I look at her. I’m about to kiss her when she has a moment of realisation.

“I left your gift in the fucking room.” The sweet moment is broken as she throws her head back and groans, and I can’t help but let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s okay.” I place a hand on top of the one she has on my thigh.

“Nooo we won’t have time when we get back, you’ll have to wait until tonight and that’s unfair.”

“I don’t even expect gifts Ags, just you and me. Plus, you got me my flowers. My favourite flowers from my favourite person. Sounds pretty good to me.”

“I’m your favourite person yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Her finger links through the thin gold chain that hangs around my neck.

“Show me then.” Her voice is raspy and deep as she pulls me forward by the necklace until our lips meet. It’s a hot and heavy kiss considering where we are, but I reciprocate it none-the-less.

I go to pull away, but she pulls me back in and I end up on her lap as we make out on the park bench. Her hands grip my thighs and mine hold the back of her head… Until we remember we’re on a park bench.

“That was kinda hot. Definitely a good make up present.” I smile down at her as our foreheads rest against each other.

“Emma’s going to kill us if we don’t head back soon…” Aggie is adamant that we begin walking to the hotel so we’re not late, so we walk hand in hand through the cold, barely arriving in time.

-

Training and warm up went well. The schedule was easy to adapt to and we weren’t pushing excessively as to waste energy before the match.

In saying that, we were up 2-1 when I got subbed on in the 60th minute, replacing Lj who wasn’t feeling all too well at half time. I felt good and energised, ready to make my second UWCL appearance.

Sam and I were gelling well together as we often did, making passes and taking shots on goal, only to be blocked by the Hacken keeper. It was a hard game but we were winning.

Aggie gets subbed on in the 68th minute, along with Jessie. The ball rarely makes it back past us, Erin often making a run with the ball toward us. Eventually Aggie passes me the ball and I try to gage my surroundings. Sam is offside, passing back to Aggie would be a mistake, Jessie’s surrounded. Erin has a clear path and shot of the goal.

I begin to run, and right as the ball connects with my foot, flying toward Erin, a body knocks against mine and my knee buckles. Nothing feels real as I fall to the floor, a loud pop filling my ears as pain radiates through my knee. I let out a blood curdling scream, but it isn’t heard over the cheering of Chelsea fans as Erin hits the ball into the goal.

I toss around on the grass, holding my leg and slamming a hand repeatedly against the ground as I sob and wale, waiting for someone to notice. It’s Sophie who places a hand on my back and yells for the ref, who then yells for the medics.

Aggie drops down in front of me as we wait, and I try and reach for her hand. The task finds itself to be difficult as my own hand shakes and my vision is blurred by tears.

“It’s- it’s my ACL.” A loud sob slips from my lips despite my attempt to hold it back.

“You don’t kn-”

“I know it Ags. I know it is I swear.”

“Okay, okay. It’ll be okay. The medics are here to look at it okay?” I nod as their hands grasp my leg, asking whether certain movements hurt or not.

It’s when I see them wave for the orange stretcher that things feel real again. Like everything was happening in slow motion until that moment. And I begin to cry again, my head now resting in Aggie’s lap as she runs a hand through my hair.

Every movement hurts as they transfer me from the ground to the stretcher, and I try not to scream out. A couple of the girls walk alongside me until the sideline, where Aggie grabs my hand and kisses me.

“I’ll come see you as soon as I can, okay?” I nod and watch as she runs back onto the pitch, her head turning every few steps to look at me, worry set in her eyes.

Turns out ‘as soon as I can’ would be much later. The medics had decided that instead of waiting until tomorrow or until we were back in England for a scan, it’d be best to go straight to the hospital. So we did.

Despite the usual wait to receive scan results, I’m sent back to the hall to wait for them. While waiting for the radiographer to call my name, Emma messages me asking if I wanted the team there. I decline the offer, knowing the girls would be exhausted after the last game of 2023 and would just want to sleep.

That doesn’t stop Aggie showing up.

I can hear the pounding of shoes hitting the linoleum ground, someone clearly running, but I don’t give it much thought as I scroll mindless on my phone. When she crouches in front of me, hands on my thigh to keep herself balanced, I have to try not to show how relieved I am. I knew what the results would be but hearing it makes it all the more real and I needed my girlfriend to hold my hand.

“Did we win?” a soft chuckle fills the air, and she nods as I put my phone in my pocket.

“3-1, because of your pass to Erin.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I’m aware of the glum look on my face as Aggie sits on the ground in front of me, allowing me to braid her hair repeatedly as we talk, waiting for the results.

“Ms L/n?” Aggie is quick to stand and turn to face the doctor while I struggle with the crutches.

“We know you already know what’s wrong but, to confirm, you’ve ruptured your anterior cruciate ligament in your right knee. You’ll be referred to a doctor and surgeon in England so you can arrange the surgery as soon as possible once you get home. I’m terribly sorry.” she leaves us with a woeful smile and the only thing I have to stop me from spiralling is Aggie’s hand on my shoulder.

“You’ll get through this. We will get through this. I’ll be there every step of the way. So will the girls. And if you fall down, I’ll pick you back up.” She kisses me on the forehead, and we begin the walk out to the parking lot, waiting for someone to pick us up.

-

Most people are asleep or relaxing in their rooms or the meal room by the time we get back to the hotel. Emma gives me a hug but doesn’t encourage us to stay or talk to anyone, knowing I’ll want to be alone with Aggie for a while.

“Getting on the plane tomorrow is going to be a challenge.” I try to laugh off the thought of all the normal activities that won’t be easy anymore as I shift onto my side of the bed.

“I’ll carry you, bridal style.” With that, Aggie hands me a gift, the gift she forgot on our date earlier in the day.

The box is rather heavy, and when I take off the lid, I find a photo album. It’s hard not to smile at the photo of us kissing that’s stuck to the cover.

“A page for every day we’ve spent together. For every day I’ve loved you.” I flick through the pages, reading some of the notes around the photos.

“This is why you take a photo of us every day?”

“I also just love capturing your beauty.” I pull her close to me and kiss her.

“I love you so much.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

~~~~~

I ended up having my surgery on Christmas day. Aggie and my family had planned on having a big day together, opening presents and having a feed, and I felt guilty taking the joy away. There wasn’t really any other choice. Aggie held me the night before as I cried. Our bed felt like the only safe place, even in our apartment, so that’s usually where I stayed. The increase in rain felt very fitting for how I’d been feeling.

Once everyone started coming back from the Christmas break, our place became more lively. I still used a singular crutch just in case, but for the most part I could put solid weight on my leg again, which meant I was able to do more activities with the team. We would hold game nights and/or movie nights once a week and occasionally I’d cook a Sunday roast.

Eventually Aggie began to take me to training. I wasn’t able to do anything, but I enjoyed watching the girls and just being in the environment again. It also made me happy watching Aggie play, it was when she looked the most carefree, despite others claiming that was when she was with me.

Aggie hadn’t left my side. Helping me shower and do the exercises for my knee. She always made sure I was entertained and asked if I needed help. Most of our spare time together was spent with me wrapped in her arms, watching a shitty tv show or talking.

“What did the doc say?”

“The ligament is looking good. They still think I’m on track for getting back in the gym in May, test out that anti-gravity treadmill.”

“And you got the team physio check up tomorrow yeah?” I hum as I adjust myself in her arms, head slotting into the crook of her neck.

I was having weekly check-ups with the Chelsea medical team and my own physio, which made it rather nerve wracking, wondering if one would feel the same as the other. If we weren’t all on the same page, my recovery time could be pushed further back. The team physio check up was the last one to confirm that I’d be allowed to start training and building stamina back up next month.

-

When I arrived at Cobham in the training kit, I felt really good. Some of the girls who pulled up at the same time as us were screaming across the car park and wishing me luck in my first session back.

I knew I’d be stuck in the gym for at least 2 months before I was allowed back on the pitch. Even then it’d be another couple of months before I was properly training with the team again, but this was the first step, and nothing could take that joy from me.

The girls started their mornings off in the gym, which meant they were cheering me on and helping me as the trainers gave me exercises to do. Aggie spends most of the hour doing the exercises alongside me, only leaving to complete something mandatory or to get us more water.

“You don’t have to Ags. You should focus on your training.”

“I promised I’d be here every step of the way. I’ll do it all for you.” She locks the leg extension and gives me a hand to help me up.

“Now onto the anti-gravity machine. First time huh?” she gently bumps me with her shoulder as I get ready to step into the chamber before Lily, my designated trainer, enables the ‘anti-gravity.’

“Oh this feels weird.” The way my body lifts with every step eases the pressure on my knee as I start to get used to it.

“Look at you! This is so cool.” Aggie doesn’t stop smiling as she watches me, some of the other girls occasionally making their way over to watch.

-

As predicted, 2 months later I begin training on the pitch. It felt lonely, watching the girls and being so close to joining them, yet so far. But I knew I was nearly there. Lily helped me with building up speed and getting used to the feel of the boots and grass again. Then came shooting practice; standing, getting passed a ball, and shooting. Eventually we added the training mannequins and Lily played goalkeeper as I manoeuvre around the pitch and obstacles.

Aggie likes to join us at lunch or sometimes gets excused by Emma to help me.

“Aggiiiie. I’m supposed to have the ball you’re supposed to just block me.”

“You gotta fight for the ball or take it off someone at some point.” Her cheeks are that beautiful pink as she grins at me.

“I hate you.” I puff out as I try to catch my breath.

“I’m wounded.” A hand falls to her heart before she approaches me, the ball still at her feet, and she leans in for a kiss.

“Nuh uh you’re being mean.”

“No I am not! Please one kiss.”

“Fine.” As she closes her eyes again and leans in, I swipe the ball from underneath her and start to run to the goal.

“What the fuck!?”

“Get better babe!” I take a shot around Lily, although not very hard considering her lack of goalkeeper training, and watch as it slots into the back of the net.

-

“73 minutes in and number 10 Lauren James is being subbed off! Who for? It’s Y/n L/n making her first appearance of the 24/25 season after rupturing her ACL in the Champion’s League in December last year. Her first game in 326 days at a sold-out Stamford Bridge! And who else is there to walk with her onto the pitch, if not her girlfriend and one of Chelsea’s star strikers, Aggie Beever Jones. Today is a great day for it.”

I try not to cry as Aggie takes my hand, making my way to my position. The cheer from the crowd as I jog on is deafening and I clap back at them before the ref blows the whistle.

Not long into play, Aggie makes a run forward, and I find a clear space between players near the goal and call for the ball. She kicks it and it soars through the air, making contact with my head as I jump. The net ripples as it skims passed the Arsenal keeper, and I’m making a run for Aggie to celebrate.

“First game back and you scored! Let’s fucking go!” she grabs me by my face and pulls me in. The kiss is unexpected but welcome in celebration.

We win 4-0, and Aggie and I find ourselves tangled up in our sheets, tracing patterns on each other’s bare skin as we whisper messages of love and adoration for the other.

“I’d do anything for you.”

“You did everything for me.”

Y/N_L/N

Y/N_L/N: this is a thank you letter to the one who’s stood by me for 3 years. who’s loved and cared for me when I didn’t think anyone would. a year ago today I ruptured my ACL, on our anniversary, and in the year since then we’ve only grown stronger, loved each other harder, fallen deeper. i'd do it all for you, like you did for me

---------

Beth and Viv’s new doco on their ACL journey really helped me with writing this. Obviously not everyone’s journey is the same so I tried to make it as different as I could with ruining it all together. I hope they’re proud of the doc because it’s really going to help people, and hopefully encourage more funding in researching the ACL injuries in women’s football and help with creating boots designed for women, so it lowers the risk of injuries like ACLs.

[upsilambic]

More from the Reverse Trope Writing Prompts

True Hate's Kiss -Version 2 - Xanxus and Tsuna

"...No."

A collective groan erupts from the crowd of spectators. They have been arguing for nearly an hour already, and they are running out of time.

"No?! What do you mean 'no'?" Desperation has sharpened the edges of Gokudera's words to a fine point. It's clear he's on the verge of physically lashing out. Yamamoto and Ryohei subtly flank him in anticipation if they need to hold him back.

Xanxus, on the other hand, in a display of massive indifference, lounges in his chair and does not even crack open an eyelid in response to the distress swelling in the room. He also doesn't bother to elaborate on his answer. His second in command does this for him. Sort of.

"It means the opposite of 'yes', brat. Obviously." Squalo uncrosses his arms and draws an imaginary line in the air with his sword that Gokudera is not to cross, literally or figuratively. But while Squalo would defend Xanxus to the death from everyone else, the set of his shoulders and scowl on his face belies the fact that he is seriously contemplating using his sword to jab some sense into his stupid, stubborn boss.

"Boss. Boss! Let me do this for you! I will kiss the Usurper so you don't have to sully your lips!"

This heartfelt declaration from the Varia Lightening elicits more groans and a few "Shut up, Levi" 's, but there's not much heat in the words. They've had some variation of this argument a few times already, and no one feels like having it again.

Gokudera kneels next to the bed and gently brushes some hair from Tsuna's sleeping face. He casts his gaze over the rest of Tsuna's guardians. "Isn't there something else we can do?"

Yamamoto rubs the back of his neck. "Well, the sorceress was pretty clear. Tsuna has to be kissed by someone who hates him to break the spell."

"Lots of people have tried to kill the Tenth! There has to be more options!"

"Sure, but..." "But what?!"

Yamamoto shrugs. "Everybody likes him now. Except for, well, you know." Everyone in the room very carefully avoids looking at Xanxus.

"If we don't find a solution soon," says Gokudera, his voice barely above a whisper, "we'll not only lose the Tenth, but the whole flame system is going to start shutting down."

"I know." Yamamoto catches Squalo's eye. Squalo sighs heavily. Time for a Hail Mary.

"VOI Shitty Boss, you ever gonna do this or are your damn lips broken?"

Xanxus finally opens his eyes in a heated glare. When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous. "The hell did you say, Trash?"

"I'm loud. You heard me."

"You think I can't do this?" Xanxus stands and stalks over to Tsuna's bed.

"I think you're delaying." Squalo makes an impatient face. "Let's get this show on the road! We've all got better things to do than sit here and watch Sawada drool in his sleep!"

"The Tenth does not drool!"

Squalo waves a dismissive hand at Gokudera, but his eyes never leave Xanxus. He smirks. "The sooner you do this, the sooner you can hold it over his stupid head that he owes you his life."

A slow grin spreads over Xanxus's face. "Yeah." He none too gently lifts Tsuna's chin, leans forward, and quickly checks to make sure there really is no drool.

In that pause, a small voice speaks out. It's Fran.

"You can use my chapstick first, if you are embarrassed by your dry lips," he offers.

There is an almighty scuffle as Varia and Vongola work together to tackle the young mist to the ground lest he undoes all the progress they've made.

Xanxus's eyebrow twitches as he watches the scene. He swears to God that when he is done saving the world, he's killing them all.

[amyispxnk]

Seatbelt, eyedrops, cleanser.

Day I've lost count of Halloween Drabbles with Joel

29/10- halloween party

Summary: You and Joel go to a Halloween party, you get drunk.

Joel Miller X f!reader (wears a female costume but there's not really any feminine pronouns so it can be GN if you want?)

Word count: 939

Warnings: alcohol, Halloween party, pet names, fluffy Joel takes care of you

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Music pumped through the speakers in the background as you and Joel stood in your own little space to the side of the room. You had been at a Halloween party for the past 2 hours, you getting into that almost-drunk state whilst he did his best to stay sober so he could drive you both home.

"Hey baby, 'm gonna go get a drink. Want anything?" He asked as he grabbed his own solo cup.

"Get me anything." You grinned, tilting your head to the side before engaging in animated conversation with one of your friends who was nearby. Joel chuckled to himself at your tipsy state before walking over to get your drinks.

He makes his way to the bar in the crowded room, trying to push through the masses. He waits his turn, looking back trying to find you among the mob. His eyes finally landing on you as you laugh with your friend. You're poking and prodding at your costume, complimenting theirs when you see Joel, waving him over to introduce him.

Joel makes his way over to your group, drinks in hand. He hands you yours and leans into you, kissing your cheek gently. His presence immediately draws your friends attention from you to him and you can't help but to blush slightly as you turn back to face your friends, their eyes now locked on you two. You turn back to Joel and giggle.

"This is Joel." You explained.

"Oh, the super hot dilf you're dating?" One of them teased, earning a hit on the arm from you.

"What's a dilf?" He murmured to you, not wanting to seem out of the loop.

"I'll tell you later.. anyway! Look at how cool our costumes look together!" You exclaimed, gesturing to his costume and then back to yours which you had already told them about.

This was your first Halloween being with Joel, and you wanted it to be really good, doing the most couple-y stuff possible. One of those things being a matching costume - going for a classic Daphne and Fred. It was the subtlest one you liked thus the easiest one to convince Joel to do, although he'd do anything you wanted really, and you loved the TV series so it was a must.

Joel laughs at your friends comment. He looks down at you in your purple jumpsuit, looking absolutely gorgeous in it. He pulls you closer, whispering, "It's not fair that you look so good, I almost feel boring in my costume."

"Shut up, you still look hot - I think they'd all agree." You smirked, taking a sip of your drink and leaning your head on his shoulder, watching as your friends nodded in response.

---------

20 minutes later, you were getting completely drunk; you stumbled around slightly, needed his arm for support, words getting slurred and/or being complete nonsense.. and he figured it was time to call it a night.

You said a few goodbyes to your friends before walking to his car and getting inside, sitting down with an exhausted huff and kicking your shoes off. He put your seatbelt on for you before walking around to his side and turning the car on.

"Don't need y'to do m' belt." You mumbled, to which he responded with a low chuckle and a shake of his head before he started to drive, talking to you and listening to your drunken giggles the whole way.

Once you got back, he helped you get your costume off and you sat down at your vanity - one he'd assembled for you a few months back when you complained about how old and small your other one was - before reaching for some makeup remover and your hairbrush and all the things you'd laid out for your night-time skincare routine.

After getting the makeup off though, your limbs gave up on you and Joel walked back into the bedroom after brushing his teeth to find you falling asleep at the table.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" He walks over to you, rubbing your back softly. "What're you doin'?"

"M' skincare." You grumbled, trying to find the first thing in your routine, also trying to remember what exactly that was.

He took the bottle of eye drops out of your hands gently, putting it down on the table and coming to your side.

"Let me help?" He asked, already holding your cleanser.

You nodded slowly, letting your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing feeling of Joel doing your skincare for you. After he finished, he took your brush and brushed your hair back, tying it up and tapping you on the shoulder.

"Still with us?" He teased, noticing how your head was falling forward as your body tried to sleep.

"Thanks s'much baby. I love you so much." You said, opening your eyes with a big grin on your face as you leaned up and kissed him, arms slung around his neck.

"Love you- too." He breathed, not having been prepared for that.

You kissed him again and again until you were actually reaching to pull his shirt off, resulting in him pulling your hands away and making you pout furiously at him.

"But Jooooeeeeel..!"

"Sweetheart, ya needa sleep." He soothed, rubbing his thumb in small circles on your arm before leading you to the bed and laying you down.

He turned the lights off and got in beside you before pulling the blanket up over you both. You snuggled into him, head resting on his chest as his arm came behind you and stroked up and down your back slowly, coaxing you into a deep sleep.

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 💞

[junekissed]

finals season

day one of junkissed's svt seasons greetings event

member — tutor!seungcheol x student!reader genre — fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort ?, college au  word count — 2k synopsis — getting a degree isn't easy. fortunately, your tutor that you maybe have a crush on is here to help. warnings — frat president!cheol, mentions of math (yes this is a warning), mutual crushes but they’re both kinda idiots, friends (?) to lovers, really awkward confession scene oops, there's 2 screenshots at the beginning bc i wanted to! notes — lowercase intended; honestly idk how this happened i promise the rest won’t be angsty like this sjdgkfs it was supposed to be cute but then my brain just kept chugging so. um enjoy !

one reblog = one snowy frat party

you sigh and stand up off the couch, wrapping your scarf around your neck. as much as you hated doing math, you always seemed to jump at the chance to study with seungcheol. the weather had made you reluctant to leave the comfort of your home, but the promise of coffee (and your unfairly attractive tutor) was more than enough to lure you out of the house for a couple hours.

even though your major had almost nothing to do with math, you’re still required to take so many credits of the subject to meet your requirements.

you shrug on your coat and grab your backpack in the dark, shoving your laptop and charger in with notebooks and folders. turning to take one last look around to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, you shut the door quietly and lock it.

the lady working the shift at the front desk smiles and waves as you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex. “where are you headed?” she asks, setting down her nail file.

“tutoring,” you say, pulling the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder.

“ooh, that hot guy that comes through here every thursday?”

you giggle. “yeah.”

“well, good luck, baby,” she grins, giving you a very indiscreet wink. “have fun with you man!”

“no– we’re not together,” you explain, feeling your cheeks start to heat in embarrassment. not that you don’t want to be together. you don’t even know if he’s single or not.

“not yet! you never know!”

“i’ll see you later,” you laugh, walking out the front door with a wave behind you.

seungcheol’s house is on the other end of campus where the fraternity houses are. it’s not a far walk, but with the snow still coming down heavily you decide not to risk showing up at his door looking like a total mess. so instead of walking like you usually do, you wait at the bus stop outside your apartment, rushing to find a place under the overhang with a crowd of other students waiting to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you step off the bus, trudging through the quickly growing piles of snow on the ground up to the door of cheol’s apartment.

it’s only friday afternoon, but lambda phi epsilon is already gearing up for whatever party they’re hosting this weekend. you can hear faint music playing from one of the houses across the street. you wonder why cheol, the current president of the frat, isn’t over there with them, but you don’t dwell on the thought.

you smooth down your jacket and check your hair in the reflection of your phone screen, then take a deep breath and knock twice.

the door swings open immediately, revealing your tutor dressed in his… pajamas. you almost choke, your eyes falling to his flannel pants and collared pajama shirt, the top buttons undone revealing an expanse of smooth skin. the material looks soft, so soft, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to touch him.

“hey! come on in, it’s cold out there,” he smiles warmly. you snap back to attention, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

“thanks,” you manage, stepping inside. “you look, um. comfortable.”

“i love the snow,” he explains. “perfect weather to stay inside and get cozy for the weekend.”

you raise your eyebrows. “you’re not going to the party later?”

“no?” he questions. “why, are you going?”

your cheeks flare. “no, i’m– work,” you laugh awkwardly as the entirety of the english language disappears from your brain.

he smiles. “cool. you can stay as long as you want, then, i don’t have plans. we can work until you have to leave.”

“sounds great,” you squeak out.

oh, it’s gonna be a long night.

but the night isn’t as long as you thought it would be. it actually goes by pretty quickly, once you sit down and start working. as distracting as seungcheol is, you’ve really gotta learn these concepts before your final.

after many tutoring sessions you’d already figured out that cheol is insanely smart, but it never occurred to you before just how smart he is. not only does he understand the material, he understands it enough to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you— something your teachers could never do. everything just seems to click in your brain when he tells you things like why the angle of elevation is below the shape and not above it. hell, he’s even made his own practice problems for you that aren’t in your book, and after hours of teaching you get them all right, all on your own.

“try using this equation,” he says, gently nudging your elbow.

“huh?” you realize you’ve been staring at him and you whip your eyes back down to the workbook in front of you, embarrassed to be focusing on him and not the actual reason you’re here.

what is the reason you’re here? you wonder, your mind wandering. you went to the math department and signed up for a tutor, and a week later you met him in a private corner of the library to get help before your exam. and after a while, you started meeting him at your apartment, because your sessions ran long after the library had closed for the night. and now you’re sitting in his living room, contemplating every life decision you’ve made up until this point and wondering how the hell you ended up studying triangles with him in his pajamas.

he calls your name again, and you turn your head to look at him. but when you make eye contact, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

“do you wanna stop for now? we’ve been on this for a while, we can switch to something else if you want,” he asks. his eyes are full of concern at the sudden way you’ve stopped responding.

how did you end up falling in love with him?

“i… i think i should go home now,” you choke out. your throat feels like it’s closing up from the effort it takes not to burst into tears in the middle of his house.

“oh,” he says quietly. “are you sure? i have more practice problems for you, here, you can take–”

“why are you so nice to me?” you say abruptly.

he pauses. “i– what?”

“our study sessions go way past the hour set by the university, you make practice problems for me, you invite me to your house in your pajamas. you don’t have to do any of that. you get paid no matter what. why?”

his gaze shifts around the room, from the workbook still lying open on the table to the posters on his wall behind you. “i’m sorry about… this,” he says finally. “we can meet in the library again if you don’t like meeting here. and i would’ve changed, if i knew the pajamas made you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not the pajamas,” you whisper.

“sorry?” he says, not hearing you.

“it’s not the pajamas,” you repeat, louder this time. “it’s you. i… i don’t think i need a tutor anymore,” you say.

your vision begins to blur with tears when you hear him say softly, “okay.”

you grab your things and pack your backpack in record time. cheol holds the door open for you as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“i’ll, uh, talk to the tutoring advisor and tell her you don’t need help anymore,” he says awkwardly as you rush out the door.

“goodbye, cheol,” you say, and turn down the steps to leave.

the sound of the door closing quietly behind you is what finally breaks you. tears stream down your face, burning your skin in contrast to the freezing air.

the snow had stopped while you’d been in his house, slowly turning into slush. you plop down on the sidewalk, not even caring that you’re sitting in a puddle of dirt and ice. not only had you just lost your free homework help, you’ve lost a friend who might’ve maybe been something more, if you hadn’t panicked and run off at the first thought of him.

your nose starts to run and you cry harder, wiping your nose against your sleeve, but it does nothing. you sit on the curb outside in the cold for so long you start shivering, but you don’t have the motivation to get up. a part of you doesn’t want to leave, and you don’t know why.

without the extra practice from cheol, you’ll probably bomb your final, which means having to take even more classes for even more credits next semester.

you hear a squeak behind you, but you don’t look back. whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

“are you okay?”

a familiar voice calls out, and you force yourself to turn around.

“i mean, you don’t look okay,” he adds. “you’re sitting in front of my house, in the snow.”

you hadn’t even noticed it had started to snow again. “oh.”

“do you want to come inside?” he asks gently.

“no,” you answer immediately, but the cold is starting to get to you. “yes.”

he smiles, and just that makes you feel better. he moves out of the middle of the doorway, leaving room for you to come inside.

you stand up, trying to wipe the snow from your backside, and walk back into his house.

a pot of coffee is already steaming on the countertop, and he pours a mug and hands it to you. “why were you sitting in front of my house, in the snow?” he asks after a moment, giving you a minute to warm up.

“i don’t know,” you admit, sniffling. he hands you a tissue. where did he get that?

as you start to calm down and take in your surroundings, you notice he’s changed into jeans and a sweater.

“you didn’t have to change,” you say quietly.

“i know,” he says. “i, uh… i decided i’m going to the party later.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the tension in the room is almost unbearable, but you purposely ignore it, bringing his mug to your lips to drink with shaky hands.

“what did you mean, ‘it’s me’?” he says finally. “what you said earlier.”

you swallow. no running away this time.

“well. um. because you’re too good. at everything.” you close your eyes and sigh. “you’re good at math and you’re good at tutoring and you’re a good person.”

“oh?” he asks cautiously. “is that… a bad thing?”

“i don’t know,” you say,. “i don’t know. you’re too nice to me. i can’t figure it out.”

he smiles, and his hand moves at his side, as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he stays put. “i–” he swallows. “i think you’re really great. and nice. and i wanted to, i guess, get to know you better. that’s why i suggested meeting outside the library. and why i help you so much. because i do want to help you, but, uh…” he trails off, staring at his feet. “i also want more than that.”

“you do?”

he looks up at you nervously, waiting to see if your reaction is good or bad.

“i also want more than that, i think,” you say quietly.

"do– do you wanna stay for a little while?" he asks, glancing out the window. "it's started snowing again."

you smile. "yeah."

his face brightens. "we can order food or watch tv, or– we could keep studying, whatever you want," he says shyly.

"i thought you were going to the party?"

"nah," he grins. "i’d rather stay right here.”

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

[kinokoshoujoart]

scribbled down a relationship chart for the forgotten valley bros to collect my thoughts after snooping into their dialogue files, because i’m crazy over the barebones scraps of tiny interactions between them that we are given they’re a neat group of lads and i want to see them in lots of wacky situations together

rambling explanation and screenshots under the cut. spoilers for dialogue

gordy and gustafa are bffs and i love them!!!!!

they have mutual respect for each other… gustafa clearly admires and understands gordy’s art, and gordy seems to view gustafa as his closest confidant, he even gets you and Gustafa the new kitchen if you enter chapter 2 without being able to “afford” it yourself

they only really mention each other and don’t have anything to say about the other two boys

no one has anything bad to say about gustafa, which is exactly how it should be. blessed bard. it’s extra sweet to me that he’s the most well-liked bachelor both in and out of the game given one of the npc gossip lines your son can tell you— he grew up without many friends (in the original game the secret was that he was bullied). he deserves all the happiness in the world

matt opinions

matt shares his Opinions (slander) on gordy and rock specifically if you show him your kid with them, but has no slander for gustafa… his line for gustafa is instead just copied from what he says about the bachelorettes’ kids. so i count that as a gustafa win

i had to stretch to find any mention of gustafa by matt, the closest thing is that he comments that he doesn’t usually go to the starlight concert

i want gustafa and matt to interact!!! i want gustafa to give matt a tomato when he’s being gruff like he did with nami (matt: “th-thank you…..*blush* i already have ten billion of these”) matt also has lines about farm work being easier when you’ve got music accompanying you if you show him a record so i’ll count that as a very flimsy positive connection (matt IS friendly with gavin, due to frequenting the bluebird café, but is a bit reticent to make friends on his own)

rock opinions and social diseases

rock is extremely excited about hearing gustafa play music and calls him a wizard at the guitar and says he never gets tired of hearing him play. he also likes wandering over to gustafa’s yurt and listening to his music along with tei on market days (his most normal bachelor to bachelor interaction)

the only guy who gets no positive comment from rock is matt, instead rock goes to town roasting him in his fourth heart event out of envy for a completely imaginary situation and argues that he’s worth a hundred matthew’s (source?). he also likes to go into the already crowded farmhouse at night on market days and make it even more cramped, but he usually leaves right before matt gets home

finally rock has what i can only describe as a really odd one-sided crush on gordy!! he meanders into gordy’s trailer at 12:45 AM (AM) every market day and loudly, obliviously asks why there’s so much “trash” everywhere (you’re the trash, rock!!!!!!). thankfully rock is quite literally beneath gordy’s notice, however this seems to make rock sad and he tries to come up with wacky stunts to get gordy’s attention like drawing on gordy’s face and… holding his breath? (maybe, i dunno WHERE that dialogue triggers). he has a line celebrating gordy finally noticing him, i’m not sure what causes it though (for his part, gordy has no lines referencing rock)

finally, if you show rock your kid he will tease them by bragging that he was waaaay cuter at their age… but ONLY if it’s a bachelor’s child. rock your complex is so obvious that it’s more of a simple

in summary,

rock seems to think highly of each of the guys (except matt), unfortunately this manifests in him making really odd attempts to barge into their houses at strange hours and by trying to assert dominance in annoying ways. thankfully no one really notices anything he does (except matt)

matt doesn’t generally say nice things about anyone except cecilia (which makes the nice things he says, like about nina, more meaningful…) so unsurprisingly he has nothing nice to say about any of the guys, but he doesn’t have anything negative to say about gustafa. however he seems to want friends to do stuff with (he complains about how no one in the valley wants to go swimming…..hhhgg i am desperate to force rock and matt to spend time together. a friendship where you can’t stand each other but you’re the only two people who enjoy doing the same hobby so you put your differences aside and splash around in the water) like with rock no one really seems aware of matt’s existence except rock who is Extrwmely Aware to the point of knowing about matt’s crush on ceci, but unlike rock matt is not exactly jumping at the chance to go socialize with others

gustafa and gordy are friends with each other (and also both are friends with nami) and they support each others ambitions. i have no source but i’m confident that when gustafa visits gordy he’s also bringing him water and soup (he also visits daryl so i think it’s cool and fun if gustafa drops in on the local lost-in-thought creative hermits with hydration reminders and care packages)

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Turn It Up When You're Gone (2/2)

The conclusion... Or is it? Posting these has got my thots going again, so I may need to write another installment. UPDATE: I did it. Also, this chapter has one of my favorite lines I've ever written. Guess which one?

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sev x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Delta Squad is back on board your Star Destroyer, and Sev is determined to make up for lost time. Reader is about to learn that commandos do it better.

Warnings: SMUT; voice kink, praise kink, body worship, facef*cking (but not like you expect)

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

Delta squad is back on the Guarlara two days later. You know this because they stroll casually into the mess while you’re eating breakfast. You almost stab yourself in the face with your fork when the one with the blood-red paint turns and looks right at you. Your eyes widen, and you can feel the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Girl, you good?” Jeelee asks, noticing your agitation.

“Yeah, I just—uh, I realized I need to—I forgot, um—” you stammer.

You can practically see Sev’s smirk behind his helmet. 

Cocky bastard.

“I need to stop by the, uh, med bay before my shift starts,” you finish lamely.

“Are you all right?” Drinna asks, concern evident in their wide eyes.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just, uh, lady problems.”

“What kind of lady problems?” Draa asks, confused.

Jeelee and Drinna send pitying glances at the clone trooper. 

“Sorry, was that too nosy?” the clone asks with a sheepish expression. “I just don’t have much experience, is all.”

“That’s okay, Draa,” you reassure him. “You should ask the medic to explain it.”

You excuse yourself and make a beeline out of the mess. You’ve listened to Sev’s recording more times than you care to admit, and you aren’t quite prepared to face him in front of an audience of dozens of clones—not to mention the coworkers who already know about your crush.

When you reach your workstation, your message indicator light is blinking.

“Tactical, this RC-1207. Any trouble with those feeds?”

You record a response. “No trouble, 1207. Everything came through loud and clear. If you want to run another diagnostic, be sure to do it after 2100 hours when the feeds update.”

There. That ought to do it. Subtle enough not to raise any eyebrows if anyone overhears, and obvious enough for him to figure it out.

---

When you return to your quarters promptly at 2100 hours, Sev is already waiting for you, helmet and gloves removed and resting on the floor. He stands up from his seat on the edge of your bunk as the door slides open to admit you. You step inside quickly and close the door.

“Hi,” you say. You sound nervous, even to yourself.

“Hi,” he replies.

You’ve had all day to think about this. For hours, your mind has tormented you with erotic fantasies, heating your skin and leaving you drenched and slippery. You have imagined Sev’s large hands touching you everywhere, his talented mouth drifting over your body as he tells you all the filthy, delicious things he wants to do to you, the fullness of his cock as he stretches you out.

But now that he’s here, in the flesh, in your space, you feel awkward. He’s a big man, even bigger in his armor, and the small room feels crowded with both of you inside. You aren’t sure what to say, or what to do with your hands. They’ve taken on a mind of their own, fluttering in front of you, fidgeting with your cuffs, and finally wrapping around your waist in a self-soothing embrace. Sev also seems unsure what to do, and it occurs to you that you’ve invited a total stranger into your bunk. 

“I’m Sev,” he says.

“I know,” you nod. “I heard on the feeds.”

“Should I just call you ‘tactical’?” he asks. “I want to make sure I’m yelling the right name all night.”

You laugh and tell him your name.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you whisper.

You expect him to go straight for the goods, so it’s a surprise when he takes your hand and draws it away from your body. He strokes his thumb across your skin, across your fingers, across your wrist.

“I knew you’d be soft. Even softer than I imagined,” he says with satisfaction. He presses his fingers to the pulse point on your wrist. “Your heart is racing, little one. Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” you say. You raise your free hand to trace the lines of his face, and he leans into the contact, closing his eyes. You wonder if he’s ever felt a gentle touch before. You brush your fingers over his skin. Intellectually, you have always known what he would look like, but now you take in all the small details that make him unique from his fellow clones. The scars, the faint lines around his eyes, the slightly longer-than-regulation hair, the prickly scruff of a beard that hasn’t been shaved in three cycles. Deep circles under his eyes betray his exhaustion, and you feel a momentary twinge of guilt at keeping him awake after a mission.

“Do—do you?” you ask. 

His mouth twists in a half smile. “It’s all I’ve thought about for the last three rotations. I want this.”

He presses his lips to your palm, and then he reaches for you, pulling you into his strong arms, capturing your mouth in a kiss. His duraplast armor is hard and cool against you, and you scramble for purchase against it. 

“You taste amazing,” he says against your lips. His tongue brushes against you, and you part your lips to let him in.

Oh, damn, he’s good. He kisses you with an intense, single-minded focus, as though you—your mouth, your lips, your tongue, your pleasure—are the only thing in the galaxy. There’s no awkward, over-enthusiastic tongue thrusting; just slow, skillful movement that pulls you in and steals your breath. His kiss leaves you lightheaded and unsteady, and you’re grateful for the way he cradles your body in his arms, keeping you from melting into a quivering heap at his feet.

“Kriff me, did they teach you to kiss like that in commando school?” you breathe.

“Yeah, we learned it after hostage extraction and before demolitions,” he says, deadpan.

You laugh again, and he looks very pleased with himself.

“They also taught us how to take off our armor in under a minute,” he says. “Want to see a demonstration?”

“Will you do a sexy dance while you show me?” you ask.

“That might slow me down,” he replies.

“In that case, skip the dance,” you say. “What’s your personal best time?”

“Thirty-nine seconds. I was motivated,” he says.

“And are you motivated now?” you ask.

“Time me and find out,” he suggests.

“I’d rather enjoy the show,” you say.

“Don’t blink,” he says with a smirk.

He strips off his armor. He works efficiently, and you watch with interest. You’ve never seen a clone go through the process before. He starts with his vambraces, works his way up his arms, then removes the cuirass and proceeds down his torso and legs. Each piece is stacked neatly as he removes it, and you suspect the habit is so ingrained in him that he couldn’t leave the duraplast in a messy pile if he tried.

“I think I shaved a couple seconds off my best time,” he says once he’s stripped down to his body glove.

You remember the way he tallies his kills on each mission.

“You’re very competitive, aren’t you?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “How many times did you make yourself come to that recording?”

Your skin heats, and you aren't sure if you're embarrassed, aroused, or both. “Why do you want to know?”

“Professional curiosity. Also, I want to know how many to aim for tonight.”

“Uh, six,” you confess.

“That’s only two per day,” he says. “I’ll have to do better with my next recording.”

“It was actually three the first night and only one on the second. I was tired,” you explain, a little defensively.

“I hope you’re rested up,” he says, tugging you into another searing kiss.

You slide your hands up his back, feeling the hard muscles shift beneath the black fabric of his body glove. The man is massive, built like a tank, and if the bulge you feel pressing against your belly is what you think it is, he is proportionate all the way down. You grind your pelvis against him experimentally, and in response, he crowds you against the wall, growling into your mouth. 

Actually growling. Maker save you.

His hands settle on your hips as he pulls you against him. Yep, definitely proportionate, you think.

His kisses are hot and frantic now, and his hands roam possessively over your body. He moves his mouth along your jaw, down your neck, next to your ear. His warm breath whispers across your skin, leaving a thrill of arousal in its wake.

“Do you know how hard it is to stay focused on the mission when all I can think about is you, fucking yourself to my voice?”

“Tell me,” you gasp, needing to hear those obscene words from him.

“Almost got nailed by a vulture droid ‘cause I was thinking about these tits.” He slides his hand up the rough wool of your uniform to palm your breast. “Oh, kark, that’s good. So fuckin’ good. Let me see you.”

You start to unzip your uniform jacket, but Sev is impatient. He yanks the zipper down and shoves the jacket off your arms.

“How many kriffing layers are you wearing?” he demands.

“Only three more,” you laugh. “Let me help.”

You unbutton and remove your uniform blouse, then slip your undershirt off over your head and unclasp your bra as Sev unzips your trousers and tugs them down.

“Finally,” he says when you are fully bare. “Stars, look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He trails his hands reverently across your skin. His fingertips are rough and calloused, but they touch you with an aching tenderness that leaves you breathless. He drops to his knees, bringing his head level with your chest, and draws you to his mouth. The sensation is overwhelming. His busy hands touch you everywhere: fondling your breasts, sliding up the inside of your thigh to squeeze your ass, brushing across your clitoris to feel the dampness gathering there.

“Sev,” you breathe as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. His lips tug insistently as his tongue swirls over you again and again, and your body thrums in response.

“Fucking perfect tits,” he mumbles against you. “Even better than I thought. So soft. You look so good in my hands.”

You look down to see his large, brown hand on your breast, your flesh spilling out between his fingers as he squeezes you gently.

“You can be rougher with me,” you whisper, “if you want.”

His dark eyes snap to yours, and he pinches your nipple experimentally. Pleasure shoots through you, and you gasp, your head dropping backward to lean against the cold durasteel walls.

“Like this?” he asks, sucking your nipple into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth.

“Yes!” you hiss. “Harder!”

He groans and does as you order, finally giving you the intense stimulation you crave.

“Oh fuck, yes, just like that, don’t stop, keep going,” you chant.

His clever mouth is doing unspeakable things to you. Kissing, sucking, biting, teasing, worshiping. You are stunned to feel your orgasm building, and you wonder if it is possible for you to come like this. The tension draws tighter and tighter, but you need more. 

Sev releases your breast and kisses down your belly. He pauses when he reaches your hip, working over you with excruciating thoroughness. 

“Kark, I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” he says, his voice even deeper than usual. “I wanted you the first time I saw you.” He presses a hard, open-mouth kiss onto your hip bone, and his tongue flicks across your skin. “Jerked my cock to you every time I took a shower. I made myself come so many times imagining this beautiful little cunt.” 

He is still playing with your breast with one hand, squeezing and pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. His other hand grasps your ass roughly, digging his fingers into your flesh. His kisses are brutal, hovering on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain, leaving a stinging trail as he makes his way slowly—so agonizingly slowly—across your pelvis.

And gods, it’s so much. It’s too much, and you can’t stand it any more. You grab his head and shove him against your pussy, and his tongue flicks out to slide between your labia and swirl over your clitoris, and fuck that’s it right there just like that—fuck! Your orgasm takes you by surprise, slamming into you, wrenching his name from your throat in a ragged cry. Your hips buck against Sev’s face, and you would feel bad for using him like this, but he’s grunting with pleasure, and his mouth is on you and his tongue is inside you, and he’s grabbing your ass to pull you even harder against him as you fuck his face, and then your legs give out, and he catches you, supporting your weight with his strong arms as he sucks your clit into his mouth until he wrings out the last tremors of your orgasm, and then he eases you down the durasteel wall to rest on his thighs.

Your lungs heave for oxygen, and your forehead drops to rest on his shoulder. He’s still wearing his body glove, and the fabric is soft against your face. He wraps his arms around you, stroking the back of your head as he whispers the sweetest words in your ear: so good for me, so beautiful, taste so sweet, so pretty when you come, love to watch you lose control, so fucking sexy.

You roll your head to face him, burying yourself against his neck. He smells like salt and skin and battlefield smoke and bacta, and your tongue darts out to taste him, drawing a rumble of pleasure from his chest.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

He lets out a single, short laugh. “No, babygirl. You could fuck me into the ground, and I’d thank you for giving me a warrior’s death.”

You can feel his erection pressing against you, and you slide your hand down his body to stroke his length through the thin fabric of his body glove.

“In that case, I should probably take care of this,” you murmur. “Can’t fuck all night if we don’t start early.”

---

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul

[fanfoolishness]

starlight + hunter? :)

Please enjoy! This ended up being a little longer. Hunter walks beneath the stars of Pabu, set in season 2. :)

The Soldier

He isn’t sleeping well.

It doesn’t make much sense, objectively.  Pabu is the safest world they’ve been on in months, maybe in their lives.  It’s a paradise here.  The people are genuinely kind, grateful to them for all of their help during the sea surge.  Omega runs and plays and laughs, and he keeps losing her in crowds of dozens of other children, all unique.  Hunter knows he should be sleeping better than ever in a place of such security.

But night after night he wakes up after a few hours of uneasy, broken sleep, and eventually gets up, going on walks alone.

He lets the night-voice of this world wash over him as he walks the mountainside.  He’s used to the blending of a place’s scents, sounds, light spectrum, gravity, weather all combining into a particular signature.  Pabu is painted in a rich new palette, and he walks through it in the dark, memorizing it on his own.

There’s the ever-present lap of the waves on the shore; during the day he’d have to go to Lower Pabu to pick out the sounds in the maze of the village’s ambient noise, but here in the quiet it’s easy for him to hear, even hundreds of feet from the shore.  It mingles with the songs of tree-crickets and the chatter of sea-bats.

There’s the scents of the large shade-trees, green vines bearing lush fruits on the sides of homes, the smells of sand and surf and leaf.  He breathes deep of all of it, marveling at the lack of oil, exhaust, ozone.

There’s the mercurial breeze, sometimes sweet and gentle from the south-southwest, sometimes a bold blast from the wild north seas, sometimes a constant gust from the utter west.  It dances over his face, flutters his hair against his neck and cheeks.  

There’s the low-pitched hum of tectonic plates deep in the stone, the deep and vital shift just barely palpable when he lays his hand on stone.  It always makes him pause; he stops, digs his palm against the stone wall, prays for the sake of the people here that there will not be another quake.

There’s the starlight.  It’s still so strange to see a starfield unmarred by the steady stream of ships, the lights of landing fields.  Countless constellations smatter the darkness in white and twinkling gold.  He wonders if Tech knows their names already, if Crosshair could see them in incredible detail.

One night he turns at the top of the stairs.  The wind has shifted; someone is coming up behind him, though they exercise no attempt at stealth.  Hunter takes a pace forward and pauses as the person steps beneath a string of glowing lights on the veranda above.  It’s only Shep.

“Can’t sleep?” Shep asks kindly.  “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you making the rounds.”

Hunter shrugs.  “I’m just not used to it here.  It’s so…”  Peaceful.  “Quiet.”

“And you seem restless.  A tough combination,” Shep observes.  “Do you ever watch the stars?”

“Sometimes.  More to scan for any potential threats than for the stars themselves, I suppose.”

“That’s about what I thought,” says Shep.  He points up to the sky, to an arc of bright white points loosely near each other.  “You see that up there?”

He squints.  “Sort of.  Is it supposed to be something?”

“That’s the Soldier,” says Shep.  

“Really now.” 

Shep gives him a rueful smile.  “Hey, I didn’t name them.”  He gestures, drawing a hint of an outline.  Hunter studies the stars above them.  If he tilts his head to the side, he supposes he can see something like a figure up above, holding a sword, or maybe a rifle.  

“If you say so,” he says.

“In the stories, the Soldier is a tragic figure,” Shep says.  “Doomed to wander the skies.  It’s one of the easiest constellations you can see shift with the seasons.  Sometimes it seems like he’s never in the same place twice.”  He turns to Hunter.  “It must be hard to settle down after seeing so much.”

The stars glitter above them.  The Soldier’s rifle swings high; his feet march onward.  Hunter lets out a long breath.  “Yeah.  I guess it is.”

Shep reaches out, squeezes his shoulder before letting his hand fall.  “I hope it gets easier.  You and your family deserve it.”  He nods to him.  “Try to get some sleep, Hunter.”  He heads back the way he came, and Hunter’s left alone beneath the stars.

He slowly makes his way back to the ship.  For a moment, he thinks about asking Tech in the morning if there really is a constellation here called the Soldier.  But the more he thinks about it, the more he decides he doesn’t need to know. 

He climbs back into bed, the sounds of night-crickets and waves in his ears.  He falls into a deep and dreamless sleep, and when he finally wakes again, the sun is high and the stars are long forgotten.

[kittkatattacks]

Wip Wednesday 7/31/24

These are hella late but here are my sentences for 7/31 :)

Perfect season 20-22 for:

@happinessisntfun @owlbearwrites @1attheedge @eriquin

“I need you to get some information to the little lord.”

“Ah, I see. And what exactly would I be telling him?”

“Riko is getting out of control. He sent some of the freshman Ravens over to Palmetto to kill one of our players.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. the player who was attacked saw who it was and I’m sure there’s a paper trail that leads back to the side branch if not to Riko himself.”

“Alright, I’ll check it out and relay your message. Is there anything else?”

“Thank you, and no, there’s nothing else right now.”

“Very well then, I’ll let you go.”

“Bye,” Neil says, and hangs up the phone, handing it back to Andrew.

He pockets the phone, leans back on his elbows and stares out at the parking lot. Neil doesn’t feel like going back inside so he sits with Andrew and stares at him, admiring how the sun lights up his hair and makes his eyes glow gold.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

AFTG space au for:

@enigma-the-mysterious @scifikimmi @auburnlaughter @adhdavinci

Neil finishes signing his email, heart pounding in his ears and sends it off before he can think about it too much. He quickly closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and then takes a few calming breaths.

In, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Out, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

In, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Out, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

He does this until he feels his heart slow and gets up to get ready for the day. 

Neil barely makes it through his first class; the professor monotonically goes over the syllabus and then keeps them there for another half hour talking about himself and how he ended up in ‘such a fine establishment’. He resorts to alternating between drawing on the handout given to them at the start of class and stabbing himself in the thigh with a pen.

He meets up with Jean for a late lunch and they both talk about how their classes are going so far.

“I’m just saying, that class is shit. I don’t understand why we need to take it.” Neil says, referring to his undergraduate studies class.

“We have to take it because someone,” Jean replies, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork, and then pointing it at Neil, “wanted to explore Europe instead of going to college when we graduated.”

“Whatever,” Neil says, swatting the broccoli away. “It's not like I made you come with me.”

“True, but irrelevant. Besides, if you had gone on your own, who would have been there to take care of you after all of the times you got into fights and needed patching up.”

“I could have done it myself or gone to a clinic,” Neil says, already knowing he’s going to lose this argument.

“Bullshit. I’ve never met someone who hates hospitals more than you do. Also I’ve seen you try to patch yourself up, you’re pretty shit at it.”

“Alright, Alright,” Neil says, putting his hands up in surrender, “you win.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

YLPWBOYF for:

@somefishycat @wizisbored

Lola wastes no time getting into his space, knife in hand, crowding him even more into the car door. 

“So, Junior,” Lola says, like she’s gossiping with a friend, “I’ve just got to know, where’d Mary run off to?” She presses the tip of the knife into his cheek when he doesn’t immediately answer, just enough to draw a drop of blood. 

Nathaniel doesn’t flinch despite the pain he feels and replies, “Like I’d ever tell you that.”

“Maybe,” Lola says, “but I have a feeling you’ll tell me sooner or later.”

Nathaniel wants to question how she plans to do that, but keeps his smart mouth shut, his mind already coming up with multiple ways that she could.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

DMRA for:

@zyrafowe-sny @whimsicalmeerkat @aparticularbandit @post-and-out

Aaron can tell he’s struck a nerve, the bulging veins on either side of Hill’s forehead giving away just how much he has. 

Halsey steps between them, redirecting Hill’s attention to him and Aaron takes the chance to give Kevin a once over.

Aaron hadn’t thought much of him when he first walked in, having been more focused on Hill. However, now that he’s really looking, he notices how muscular Kevin’s arms are, his jade-green eyes and how he towers over most of the people in the room, including himself.

Aaron turns his attention back to Hill and Halsey, “I look forward to seeing you in class,” Hill says, but Aaron can tell he is still pissed from earlier despite the smile he wears.

He glares at Hill until he’s gone and turns his attention back to Halsey who checks his watch, “I’ve got to go, there’s a call I need to make. Kevin, could you please show Mr.Minyard the Emergency room.”

“Of course, I was on my way over there anyway,” Kevin says.

Aaron gives Kevin his full attention now that Halsey is gone, “You sure know what to say to impress important people huh?”

“I assume you mean Hill.”

Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass but he’s got a lot of influence here. Let me guess, you’re taking Dr.Hill’s class?”

“Yep.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d tone down the animosity. Getting an F in his class is like a bad review from the New York Times; it’ll ruin your career before it even begins.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[writing-on-the-wahl]

O Positive Part Three

Hi hi my lovely chickens! It’s been a while but I am back with more of O Positive! Y’all can thank @im-a-wonderling for the request and all her amazing encouragement and edits. Fun story I was almost done with my first draft when I realized I’d written it in first person (the perspective my manuscript is in) and I  was too lazy to go back and fix the entire thing so sorry lovelies! I hope you still enjoy:)  

Part 1   Part 2 

The sun was high in the sky, shining down between the towering skyscrapers, warming the sidewalk and reflecting happily off of the dozens of windows on the building I approached. I squinted my eyes and glared at the reflective glass, the low throbbing in the back of my head making me wish I’d thought to bring sunglasses. 

A pedestrian shoved past me as I slowly shuffled down the sidewalk. I stumbled forward for several steps before I managed to use a conveniently located lampost to keep the ground from swooping up to meet me. I glared at the retreating suit, clenching my fingers around the bottle in my hand to keep from returning the favor and shoving him down into the gutter. Normally, I would have immediately felt guilty for the violent thought, but it had taken the other heroes hours to find me last night, and after freeing me from the streetlight and demanding a detailed explanation of my failed fight with Villain, they’d requested [Read: required] that I join them in canvassing the streets for Villain. A pointless, idiotic gesture, if ever there was one. As if Villain would be stupid enough to hang around four hours after robbing an art gallery and cuffing me to a lamp pole. So between my utter lack of sleep and the two pints of blood I’d already donated this morning, I didn't have much sympathy for rude civilians. 

Finally, I reached the double doors at the base of the offending shiny building. A temporary banner hung above them proclaiming, “Blood Drive Today!” 

“Really, you are sadly predictable.” 

It took my fuzzy brain much too long to process that the words had been spoken by a man leaning against the building, and another to recognize that the person behind the aviator sunglasses and casual shirt and jeans was Villain. 

By the time my sluggish brain caught up to the situation, he was standing before me, crowding my space and giving me a death glare I could feel even through the dark glass that covered his eyes. 

“Villain.” 

“Hero.” 

He said my name like a parent scolding a toddler. 

“I thought you told me we wouldn’t be having a repeat of last month.” 

“We aren’t.” I shoved past him, grabbing the handle of the door. But I couldn’t resist shooting over my shoulder, “I’d hate to burden you again in such a way.” The overwhelming bitterness I felt at the last month of pretending nothing had happened slipped into the words, and I bit my tongue. 

As Villain’s brows rose above the rim of his sunglasses, I darted into the cool reception area. 

I made it about half a step before Villain caught up to me, hand wrapping around my elbow. 

I let him pull me to the side, out of the flow of traffic that bustled through the large space--regular office workers breezing past the brightly colored signs hanging above folding tables, making an odd combination of suits and dresses mixing with the more casually dressed donors that were much too few in number for what the city needed. 

The sparse group gathered on the other side of the room only hardened my resolve. I twisted my arm from Villain’s grip and managed a step towards the blood drive before Villain got in front of me. 

He didn’t try to grab me again, though. In a sense, we both had our hands tied, unless we wanted to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves and risk outing our secret identities. 

My headache throbbed as I tilted my neck to look up at the irritating man. “Move, Villain.” 

He folded his arms across his chest, staring me down. 

My will was stronger than his, but my aching self unfortunately was not. I dropped my head, rubbing my neck with a sigh. “Please--just, don’t. I’m going to do this.” 

Villain dropped his angry stance and sighed. “Your day job is do-gooding. Why is this so important to you?” The words themselves should have set me on edge, but I couldn’t deny the utter sincerity with which he asked. 

I swallowed back the painful memories enough to get out one word, the most important one. “Sidekick.” 

I couldn’t look at Villain, but I felt the moment he understood. The tension in the air drained as all the fight went out of him. I turned away and walked towards the registration table, trying and failing to ignore the long-legged shadow behind me. 

“Here to donate? Bless your heart.” The elderly woman behind the table smiled as she passed me a registration form. I reached out to take the clipboard, but an arm shot in front of me, snagging it from my fingertips. 

“I don’t think so,” Villain murmured in my ear as his free arm wrapped around my waist. It took everything in me to convince my exhausted body that it was a bad idea to lean against him, let him take some of my weight. 

Instead of dropping the form on the table and dragging me from the building like I half expected he would do (and half-hoped? - my headache was getting worse and worse), he instead led me to a chair and pushed me down into it, claiming the one next to it as he pulled the pen free of the clip. 

That jolted me out of the fog that surrounded me. No way was I telling him all my private information. 

I made a rather pitiful attempt to reclaim the papers, but Villain just looked at me in a way that confirmed how pathetic the attempt had been. I dropped back down into my chair, turning my bottle of orange juice around in my hands. 

 “This is really that important to you.” 

“Yes.” This time I set my orange juice down before reaching out to take the forms again. 

Villain sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a plea for help. Then he held the forms between us like a peace offering. “What if we trade?” 

My nose wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

He tugged the clipboard back onto his lap. “If you agree not to donate any more blood today” I started to protest but his hand covered my mouth and I froze. “Then I’ll—” He gritted his teeth as though the words pained him. “Then I’ll donate instead.” 

Too preoccupied by his hand pressed to my lips, it took a moment for the meaning of his words hit me. 

“You?” I mumbled against his hand. 

Villain’s hand dropped away and he let out a put-upon sigh, but how could I not question his statement, especially when he said it like I’d asked him to return every cent he’d ever stolen? I hadn’t even suggested he donate, for crying out loud. 

“No.” 

Villain’s head reared back a little at my forcefulness, and I seized on his distraction to make a grab for the clipboard. My fingers didn’t even graze it, but I teetered forward, cursing myself for the sudden movement that had made the word turn all swirly-whirly. 

I closed my eyes against the wave of dizziness, not fighting as Villain shoved me, gently, back into my chair. “I wasn’t asking, Hero.” His long, lockpicking fingers—so skilled at freeing objects from their homes—wrapped around the curve of my shoulder, trapping me in place. 

I cracked one eye open, trying to piece together our conversation. 

“What?” Or at least that’s what I meant to say. It came out more of a “hammmgggh?” 

“You heard me.” He picked up the pen tucked in the top of the clipboard. 

The bout of dizziness passed, and a better solution presented itself. I looked around for a free volunteer. We were going to need a second clipboard. 

“Orrrrrrrr,” I dragged out the word, not quite believing what I was about to suggest. “We could both donate and save twice as many lives.” 

Villain shook his head, but didn’t look up from the paperwork he was now flying through. “You can let me donate in your place, or, I can drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” 

Why did I get the impression Villain would prefer the second option? 

I finally flagged down a free volunteer across the room and mimed writing on a clipboard. He nodded and I turned to glare at Villain. “It’s not up to you whether I donate or not.” 

“No.” He snapped, his voice rising. “It's not. Fortunately for you, you already donated today.” I blinked in confusion as his scowl morphed into a sweet smile. 

Until I turned and saw the volunteer hovering in front of us, nose crinkling in confusion as he shuffled the clipboard in his hands. “Oh, you already donated today?” 

Villain leaned back, releasing his death grip on the clipboard to swing an arm around my shoulders and pull me against his side. I tried to ram my elbow into his ribs, but as close as we were, it was barely a tap. 

“Yes.” His voice was a sweet, honeyed tone that completely lacked the mocking edge it normally carried. “She donated first thing, and when she told me about how desperate the need for blood is, I couldn't help but volunteer.” 

His hand tightened on my shoulder as he spoke the word desperate, but I ignored the insult, running through the usual donor sites, mentally calculating the next best option. It would be easy enough to slip away from Villain once he was hooked up to a blood bag. If I ordered a ride on my phone now, it should be ready by the time I slipped out the door. 

And despite his bold words, Villain wouldn’t make a scene, or waste his donation by ripping out the tubes and chasing after me. 

I felt a prick of guilt at basically conning Villain into donating blood. But. It was his idea. And I’d never actually agreed to not give more blood today if he did. 

When I snapped out of my planning, the volunteer had moved on, and Villain had returned to his paperwork. What he hadn’t done was remove his arm from around my shoulders. 

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel nice. Familiar.  As warm and comforting as it had felt a month ago draped across the back of the couch behind me as Villain gently felt for my pulse. 

My mind whirred as I implemented the first step of my plan. I tried to stand. Villain's arm instantly pulled me back down, trapping me next to him. 

Feigning irritation, I huffed and sank back into my chair. It had the wonderful consequence of me being buried further into his embrace. Villain’s pen paused, and I froze, waiting for his reaction. When he resumed writing, I slowly relaxed, easing my phone out of my pocket. I tried not to enjoy the warmth of his arm around me, knowing it was short lived. But oh, did I love the way it draped across my shoulders like a warm blanket, the way his fingers unconsciously rubbed circles across my arm as he frowned at the endless pages of the questionnaire. 

I tried to keep my expression bored as I googled the nearest blood drive. 7 blocks away. I rubbed my aching head. I’d definitely need a ride. 

Unfortunately, seeing as it only took me 37 seconds to speed across the entire city, I’d never had need of one before, and so I watched with impatience as the ride-share app slowly downloaded. 

The phone was plucked from my fingers before I could react. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

A spilt second glance at my screen was all it took for Villain to figure out my genius plan.

I shrank away from his impending judgment, but he simply shook his head and tucked my phone into his pocket. 

Before I could try to bolt for the door again, he stood, pulling me with him. 

“C’mon. I didn't fill out all this stupid paperwork for nothing.” He trapped my hand in a vise-like grip. I was a hairsbreadth from wrenching free when his thumb skated across the back of my hand. My already fuzzy brain short-circuited at the tenderness of the gesture, and I numbly followed as he tugged me towards the registration table. 

Villain flashed the nice old lady from earlier a too-wide, slightly terrifying smile, the expression so foreign it wrenched my brain free of its daze. I frowned up at him. The wide, sharp grin was nothing like his usual overbearingly confident half-smirk. No, it was all hard edges and gleaming white teeth and none of the soft eyes and quirked lips he usually wore. 

I shook myself as Villain shoved the forms across the table. I didn’t have any business telling his smiles apart. 

Yet I couldn’t help but wonder at the difference as he spoke, an unfamiliar, strained note in his voice. 

“Here’s your forms. Let’s get this done.”

Taglist: 

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (33)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! All this SasuSaku content we’ve been blessed with over the last couple of months had my heart hungry for more, so I got to typing! As always, sorry for the delay, but I hope this chapter is worth the wait. To all my readers who have been with me from the beginning, do not lose hope for me! And new readers, welcome to a world of waiting on me to get my crap together. Thanks again for the support!  

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32

Chapter 33: Interrogations

Watching her friends exit through the doorway of the Kazekage’s office, Sakura couldn’t help but feel relieved as the rest of Team 7 and Shikamaru trailed behind Sasuke and Kankuro to the Sand Village Prison. Sakura’s cheeks were still a little red, taken by surprise at Sasuke’s unexpected appearance just now. Sakura mentally berated herself for the flushed reaction, especially after rehearsing in her head all morning how she would come off much more composed during their reunion after the whole kissing thing last night. She had matured a lot from her Genin days, and was usually very collected around her peers now (except Naruto, maybe, who sometimes brough out her temper), but seeing Sasuke assessing her own reaction with a certain white-haired sensei’s watchful, knowing eye had Sakura acting like her schoolgirl self again. She cringed at her own embarrassed behavior.  

Suddenly, the Kazekage’s voice brought her back to the matter at hand. “Even though it is not ideal, there’s some logic behind Shikamaru’s suggestion.”

Sakura nodded, remembering her friend’s proposition regarding the anti-peace group targeting Sakura for her mental health-centered endeavors. Shikamaru had offered a solution to their dilemma on finding the rest of the group’s members, but it involved using Sakura as a lure for her enemies. It’s not that Sakura was opposed to the idea; she wasn’t worried in the slightest, actually. She was just annoyed with the problem at hand. She was making progress here in the Sand with the mental health clinic and she was reluctant to put that on hold while she dealt with these war-focused sociopaths. At least, she told herself that if she were to draw them out, she wouldn’t have to go looking for them in Tanigakure, but she had another concern regarding that.

She voiced this concern to Gaara, saying, “Drawing such a crowd into your village might pose a risk to the citizens here.” He shook his head thoughtfully at that, and Sakura wondered why Gaara might be willing to take such a risk all in the name of her safety. If anything, it would be more appropriate for Konoha to take such an action since she was a Leaf Shinobi, after all. Or was it really her safety that inspired Gaara to do so?

“They were able to infiltrate here through the clinic which I take personal responsibility for. It’s not in my nature to overlook such an offense so easily and I believe I owe this to you as an apology for failing to keep you safe.” Gaara’s rasping voice faded away as he assessed her reaction and Sakura saw a faint ember of emotion in his typical stoic eyes that accompanied the apology. She found herself blushing for the second time as she reassured him that everything was fine and that it was her fault for leading them here from Tanigakure in the first place.

When she brought up Tanigakure, Gaara interjected, “If we settle the matter within my country, we would be sparing Tanikagure from getting involved more than they already have. They have not taken too kindly to our investigative presence the last twenty-four hours. I thought that involving Konoha would make it seem more diplomatic, but Shikamaru’s suggestion might be best. We don’t want another situation on our hands where a small country is caught between two nations.”

Sakura nodded again at the Kazekage’s rationale, acknowledging the truth and importance of his words. “I’m willing to do anything I can to help,” she finally declared, already wondering how she would manage to entice them here.

“Let’s think it over more carefully and discuss it more tomorrow,” he said, relaxing into the chair behind his desk. “We have discovered a couple of leads that we need to explore and thinking of a plan will take some time. Meanwhile, I’d like to ask your opinion on something.”

“Okay,” Sakura responded, making to sit in the chair Gaara indicated with his hand across from the desk. A part of her wanted to grill the Kazekage for more details about the group in Tanigakure, so she could know the ins and outs about those who wanted to target her, but Sakura also believed that the shadow-being she had gone up against was most likely the scariest of them all to face, so she wasn’t too worried about the details. And if Gaara didn’t offer her more information than that, then he was probably holding back for official related reasons. So, she let it go.

“We also talked about a mental health treatment for adults as well as children. Should we begin with those you’ve captured and brought to me?”

Sakura blinked at such a statement as she recalled her conversation with the Kazekage as they strolled together along the sun-lit avenues of sand toward the village’s entrance a few days ago. “It has been an inaccuracy to think that only children could suffer,” Sakura had said to Gaara, “What if we included adults in our mental health program, too?” Gaara must have taken the proposition very seriously at the time, considering how quickly he was choosing to take action toward such a goal.

Sakura couldn’t help but hesitate in response to Gaara’s sudden proposition. Could someone like her really get through to those people, the people she had gone toe to toe with in the desert—the very people who had set out to kill her for the sole reason of her mental health efforts? She wasn’t sure.

“I’ll be there,” came the hoarse reassurance of the sand wielding Kage before her. Seeds of hope suddenly embedded themselves within her heart of doubt. “I’ll help you start.”

Sakura nodded, offering the Kazekage a smile of gratitude. Just before they had viewed the sunset together, Sakura had meant the words she had told Gaara in response to the question of who would be best to help people in need: “Like you, Lord Kazekage.” Even though Sakura silently pondered how Gaara had the availability to help her begin this process, Gaara had the same noble way as Naruto of making others believe in him.

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

Sasuke sneered beyond Naruto’s shoulder as his friend knelt before the sand encased jail cell containing one of Sakura’s attackers. They had separated him from the other two, all of whom Sasuke had transported via Kaguya’s dimensions back into the Sand Village. Sasuke knew Naruto’s hands itched in the same way his did as they both witnessed Mako’s silent interrogation. The medic revealed very little as Suna’s renowned questioner sat before him just on the other side of the bars, ticking off questions one by one.

“How did you manage to subdue the medical kunoichi known as Sakura Haruno?” the investigator asked without skipping a beat.

“I drugged her. Isn’t that already obvious?” came Mako’s tort and honest reply. It was as good enough as any confession as far as Sasuke was concerned, so what was the point of continuing this charade of a civil investigation? Sasuke knew it was morally wrong to skip necessary processes and jump straight to the physical force required to extract the information he wanted, but it was hard to kick old habits of thinking.

The questioning continued. “You expect us to believe that you were able to drug an elite medical ninja without assistance? Who helped you sedate her and what was the method used?”

Mako let out a small derisive laugh that had the Uchiha narrowing his eyes lethally in the traitor’s direction. “You’re overestimating her. All I did was pretend to be her colleague and slip something into her drink. Someone who desperately wants a friend isn’t difficult to deceive.”

Mako’s declaration did two things for Sasuke. First, it was like a heavy stone dropped in Sasuke’s heart, for he felt so terribly guilty about his and Sakura’s falling-out immediately post-kiss in the medicine preparation room two nights ago. Had Sasuke left her feeling so eager for kindness that she had dropped her guard? These same words also ignited a rage so savage within the Uchiha that he felt like stepping through a portal, just to stand on the other side of these bars, inches away from the man who had the audacity to say that about Sakura.

Sasuke smirked when Naruto’s angry voice echoed throughout the jail from his place beside the Uchiha: “Drugging Sakura was that last thing you’ll ever do, you BASTARD!” Sasuke was somewhat relieved that his friend was getting worked up, too, and had actually spoken Sasuke’s mind for him.

“Calm down, Naruto,” Kakashi stated predictably, and Sasuke wanted to roll his eyes at his sensei’s typical levelheaded lecturing. “You too, Sasuke,” Kakashi ordered next, placing hands on both of their shoulders. “The last thing we need is for either of you to get involved in this personally.” Sasuke wanted to flash his sensei an affronted look for even comparing him to his loser best friend or suggesting that he was getting angry on Sakura’s behalf, but Sasuke dropped the pretense. What was the point of pretending he wasn’t just as pissed as Naruto? The Uchiha’s annoyance was visibly displayed on his face in colors of red and purple. He so desperately wished Mako would turn in his direction, catch his sharingan and spiral into the memory-searching genjutsu Sasuke had prepared for him. He would find the answers without all this unnecessary time wasting. But Sasuke knew that Mako knew better than to search him out; he had witnessed what Sasuke had done with Satou in the hospital room to learn just what he needed to know about Isao, the child Sakura cared for.

Again, Naruto voiced both their thoughts by arguing, “We are already personally involved. He drugged our teammate. She’s one of us! The least we should do is teach this guy a lesson.”

“Hn,” Sasuke breathed in agreement, surprising himself for allowing the sound to reveal his own private thinking. When Kakashi, Shikamaru, and Naruto looked over at him in surprise, Sasuke decided to further add: “we need to find out where the other ninja of this group are.”

“It appears to me that Sakura accomplished that herself, Naruto,” Shikamaru chimed in, pointing out the wounds still not fully healed on the young traitorous medic. “We’ll get the information soon enough.”

After the interrogator jotted down a few private notes on the table between him and Mako, the green-haired man pushed the round frames of his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he made eye contact with Mako again. “Where is the rest of your group?”

“There isn’t any more. You’ve apprehended all who were a part of it,” Mako replied immediately.  

Then the green-haired investigator sighed, pulling his glasses off in irritability. “I despise liars. I have methods of making you talk. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have this job. But the Kazekage—he is the only thing between you and my preferred methods of interrogation.”

Why would the Kazekage hold back against this scum, Sasuke thought silently to himself. This fake had infiltrated Gaara’s village who knows how long ago, targeted the mental health clinic Sakura had helped establish here, posed as a caring and concerned medic, earned everyone’s trust, and betrayed Sakura at just the right time.

“I’m not lying,” Mako seethed.

The green-haired man, who Sasuke grew to like more and more as he questioned Mako, narrowed his eyes and leaned across the table and said, “I’ll let you in on a secret. Do you really think that the Kazekage does not have all the answers to these questions? Why then, do you think I’m wasting my time questioning you? Think really hard, I’m sure you’re capable of figuring it out.”

And with that whispered revelation, Sasuke couldn’t help but review Kankuro’s words from yesterday in his mind: “With unmentionable methods, we were able to find out who their target was.” Did this mean that Gaara already knew how many were in the group from an interrogation that Gaara had conducted back in Tanigakure?

Naruto snickered loudly at the divulgement of the Kazekage’s secret, interrupting Sasuke’s thoughts, and Sasuke noticed that Mako couldn’t help but locate the blonde-haired jinchuriki who observed him. Mako’s face turned slightly white as he realized for the first time who exactly had been making so much noise outside his cell. Sasuke noted his fear of Naruto as a good thing and smirked when Mako made a point of dropping his gaze and locating Sasuke’s figure next, eyes trained solely on his legs. Mako’s fear of him was even better.  

“Have you figured it out yet?��� the interrogator asked, laughter in the question.

Mako’s eyes widened suddenly, not because he had solved anything, but because the Kazekage was suddenly there in the flesh, standing beside the green-haired ninja with a palm on his shoulder. “Enough, Kizumo. Let’s stop here.”

Glancing back at the Kazekage, the green-haired ninja sighed and let the pen he was holding drop and roll across the notepad on the table in frustration at having his job cut short.

“We will take care of this one,” the Kazekage rasped, gesturing to newly formed entrance at the back of the sand-bodied cell. “Go and see what you can learn from the shade. Don’t touch him but do what you need to do.”

A wicked smile replaced the disappointed frown on Kizumo’s face. “I won’t have to touch him, Lord Kazekage.” And with that, he exited hurriedly through the hole in the wall that Gaara had formed.

But Sasuke was hung up on the word Gaara had used at the beginning of his command to Kizumo: We? We will take care of this one?

Just as Sasuke had that thought, his stomach dropped when his pink-haired teammate entered the cell through the hole as well, Gaara gesturing for her to take the seat across from Mako that Kizumo had just vacated.

Sasuke was certain that the same frown he now wore, not only occupied his own face at seeing Sakura face the man who had betrayed her, but Naruto’s and Kakashi’s as well.

“Punch his face in, Sakura!” Naruto called to her from the other side of the cell, and Sakura turned to find him. She smiled at Naruto, reassuring him that all was okay. She found Sasuke’s multicolored eyes next, lingered on them for half a second, before turning back to Mako.

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

Sakura shuffled the papers in a yellow file that Gaara had given her to look through before they came to Suna’s prison. The papers contained many details about Mako, his activity within the village, and his alleged backstory. “Every non-Suna born citizen has a special documentation file,” Gaara had relayed casually as they descended the steps into the underground sand-constructed prison, “with information regarding their activity and how they came to be here. It might not be much use since its mostly filled with his lies, but I figured if anyone could discern anything valuable, you might.”

“I’ll try,” Sakura had assured him, flipping through the record carefully as they walked. In truth, the file didn’t contain much out of the ordinary—or what she would expect for Mako. He had come to the village a year ago, claiming to be from a small island asking to join the medic team, claiming to be a part of the elite medic unit in Tanigakure and would like to learn from the medical advancements here. Unsuspicious of an individual hailing from a non-ninja nation, Gaara saw Mako’s knowledge of medicine as an asset and granted his request, offering Mako a place and lodging. His activity was also unremarkable as he spent the last year learning from medical staff Sakura had helped train.

Hisa, unexpectedly, did not have a file. In fact, she had managed to somehow infiltrate the village secretly, and Sakura suspected that Mako had succeeded in smuggling her in. Sakura wasn’t surprised that Gaara addressed this topic with Mako first.

“You smuggled your counterpart inside the village via the medical trade route, am I correct? When receiving medical supplies from Tanigakure, an advanced medical country, she came with and was disguised as someone with a position in the building. Is any of that wrong?” The examination was calm, unthreatening, just as if Gaara had been talking to Kankuro or Temari. The way he phrased the questions revealed that Gaara had already figured this particular scenario out.

Mako kept his eyes down, focusing on the file in Sakura’s hands. She guessed that he was evaluating its thickness carefully, determining just how much information about him and his co-conspirators was already contained within. Would he bothering lying in the Kazekage’s face, Sakura wondered.

“If you’re going to end up killing me, just get on with it,” Mako replied behind clenched teeth, his silence about Hisa revealing Gaara had been correct in his guesswork.

And to Sakura’s surprise, sand began to spiral at Mako’s feet and in just a few seconds, it reached up to form manacles around the imposter’s wrists, jerking them back behind the chair so that he was properly restrained. “If that is your wish,” Gaara responded calmly to Mako’s now wide-eyed expression of fear. “The path of life you have currently chosen will lead to your death anyway.”

Large heaps of sand began to fall from the ceiling around Mako, filling the room rapidly with sand like a tipped upside-down hourglass. Creating an invisible barrier across the cement table between them, Gaara allowed the sand to crash down around the conspirator so that only Mako’s side of the sand-bodied interrogation room began to rise around his feet like water in a cave during high tide. Sakura’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

The room buzzed loudly, and sand whipped through Sakura’s hair as the grains were summoned in Mako’s direction. Gaara’s voice was still intense enough to be heard despite his overall composure and the humming of the sand as if this very room was designed to emphasize it. “My sand delights at the blood of others and I’ve killed many before you. Since you have volunteered your life, it eagerly accepts.”

Mako began to shift anxiously as the sand reached his shoulders and he bit his bottom lip in steely resolve to quiet his quickened breathing and accept his fate. Gaara’s slow voice continued, “When someone chooses a life of darkness, a life of hatred and evil, and puts their life on the line for a cause accomplished through darkness, they are only marching towards an inevitable death.”

Sakura glanced over at Gaara in concern as the sand billowed like a wave around Mako’s chin and Mako leaned his head back and strained his neck above it, gasping for the last few breaths of oxygen belonging to him in this world.

“Why so?” Gaara asked, composed and relaxed despite the struggling man before him. “Because you have pit yourself against those who share a stronger vision—one of peace and hope and love. Naturally, the odds will be against you.”

“Stop,” came Mako’s desperate voice at last, sand knocking against the sides of his head. “Please. Stop!”

“Do you choose life?” Gaara asked Mako, and the long-subdued tears began to spill over the rims of his eyelids.

“Yes!” he cried, but the sand did not stop ascending around him. “I said yes! Don’t kill me! MAKE IT STOP!”

“Not good enough. Which life do you choose?” Gaara probed, crossing his arms over his chest in resolve to wait for the answer he wanted.

“A peaceful—" Mako whimpered, sand choking off the words as it filled his throat.

Gaara watched him thrash for just a moment and Sakura tried desperately to hold herself back despite the Kazekage’s hesitation. She had chosen to trust the Kazekage as someone to align herself with for the sake of the lives almost lost to an all-consuming darkness. He wanted to help them just as much as her. These corrupt ninja were not children as Sakura was used to. She would trust Gaara’s judgement.

Finally. Finally, the sand relented, ascending once more into the air to reconstruct the ceiling above the jail cell. And as Mako coughed violently, rubbing sand from his eyes and ears, Gaara made a final statement that made Sakura realize that only Gaara would be the savior of these ninja: “Rather than a life a loneliness, we surround ourselves with evil people. Such a life is worse because you will lose your soul to the hatred within you, no longer caring for the feeling of comradery, and you might as well be dead anyway.”

Mako sat in his chair gasping like beached ocean creature that waited for death on a bed of sand.

“I too, was like you,” Gaara announced, voice softening as he recalled the sand from Mako’s lungs and hair. “Until someone extended a hand in friendship.” Gaara gestured over his shoulder to Naruto who grinned heartily and rubbed the back of his neck shyly at Gaara’s recognition of him.  

“Can you take over from here Sakura?” Gaara asked her, and she nodded, watching the Kazekage’s back as he turned in Naruto and Kakashi’s direction. When the sand bars of the cell disintegrated as he passed through them, Sakura once again found herself grateful to be considered a friend of Gaara’s and not an enemy. She had faced him head on once before, and was thankful every day afterward that Naruto had extended that hand of friendship to his fellow jinchuriki.  

“Come with me,” Gaara said to the waiting Leaf ninja, “there’s another ninja you need to see. He possesses an ability like yours, Shikamaru.” Kakashi and Shikamaru immediately followed the Kazekage, and Naruto lingered for a moment, offering a hesitant look back at Sakura as he was conflicted at being summoned away from her. The blonde ninja glanced back over to Sasuke who seemed to be content just where he was as he perched himself against the wall just across from Mako’s cell, eyes closed as if he were settling to doze. Naruto rushed to Gaara’s side once he was certain Sasuke planned to stay behind.

When Sakura turned back to Mako, he was rubbing his wrists where Gaara’s sand had bound him. He chose not to look at the pink-haired medic he had betrayed, instead shamefully focusing back on the table between them. He shifted painfully, and Sakura noted for the first time that blood ran in tendrils down to his feet from his previously sustained injuries, injuries Sakura had yet to heal.

Standing, she made her way around to Mako’s back, lifting the material around the stab wound to assess it. Mako hissed in pain as the material lifted from the wound. “What are you doing?” he murmured.

“Healing you fully,” she explained, rolling up the back of his shirt against Mako’s stiffening protest.

“Don’t,” he said weakly as Sakura tugged the shirt the rest of the way up and over his head. “Save your strength. You’ll need it.” She frowned at the wound that now festered from incomplete treatment. At some point in his capture and detainment, Mako had reopened the wound. Sakura had only staunched the bleeding with her chakra immediately after rendering the other two of her enemies unconscious on the desert battlefield, and now the skin puckered with redness and swelling.

“Why is that?” Sakura asked calmly, already predicting his next answer.

“There’s more of them waiting,” he whispered quietly, so that not even Sasuke who indignantly peeked at them under thick eyelashes, could overhear. “They’ll come for you.”  

Summoning the green chakra to her fingertips despite his warning, Sakura pressed her fingers to the open rip in Mako’s flesh and he gasped. “Why do you tell me this?” she asked him. “Have you really chosen to seek a new life of peace like you promised the Kazekage? Or was that a lie just to save your own neck?”

“Once they find me, and realize I have betrayed the cause, they’ll kill me anyway,” Mako whispered again. “The Kazekage has shown me mercy, but they will not. I cannot choose a life of peace even if I wish it.”

Sakura frowned, glancing over the top of his dark head of hair to admire Sasuke from a distance. Sasuke had been able to choose peace because he had the support of others. As did Gaara. This meant that they both had friends who were willing to go against the world in order to protect their choices to start over. Mako didn’t have that.

“Why did you join them? Do you really believe that there needs to be hatred and war circulating throughout the ninja world?” Sakura asked him honestly, chakra sputtering and dying as she suddenly ran empty. Her breathing quickened as a headache began to form at her temples. She cursed internally at her low supply of chakra. She needed more rest. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the battle, had used what chakra she had possessed healing Isao this morning, and was also consistently feeding a stream of chakra to her injured hand. The freshly healed wound on Mako’s back was enough to reassure her despite the strain. At least he was restored.

“I needed a place in this world. Their vision made sense to me.”

Sakura nodded, returning to the chair exhaustedly. She closed Mako’s file and said, “You had a place. You have a place.”

His eyebrows raised, as he mentally processed what she was suggesting.

“We need you,” she said to him, emotion thickening her already tired voice. “I need you—by my side in the mental health clinics when I’m here, and running things in my place when I’m not. I’ve never had such a competent partner before.”

Mako stared back at her and Sakura saw the confliction in his eyes. “How can you say that to someone who betrayed you? I drugged you. I had every intention of handing you over to them to do as they wished.”

This was true, and the reality of it twisted in her heart. However, Mako had also refused to let Hisa kill her, insisting that she was too valuable to kill right away.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she smiled, making to stand behind the table. “Forgiveness is how we will manage to create a peaceful world.”

Mako looked down at his feet again as Sakura turned back toward the hole in the wall that Gaara had morphed into existence. Her head was throbbing terribly now, and Sakura massaged her eyes.

“Ok,” Mako said to Sakura’s retreating form, and Sakura turned back just before reaching the exit. “If I somehow make it out of this alive, I’ll do it. I’ll help you with the mental health clinics. I’ll help you achieve peace. In return for your forgiveness, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Sakura blinked at Mako, feeling somewhat comforted by the fact that even though he had betrayed her and did some terrible things, he still had goodness in him. Sakura hadn’t entirely been fooled by Mako because he was still someone worthy of forgiveness. “Deal,” Sakura nodded, taking the last step from his cell and entering a small sand tunnel that would eventually connect her back to the main stairway. As if on cue of her exiting, the tunnel closed itself off behind her, leaving Mako to take the first mental steps toward a new life.  

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

As soon as the wall had sealed her away from Mako, Sasuke was there, reaching for her as she leaned against the wall to hold her head. Sakura jumped when his hand found her upper arm, surprised at his sudden appearance.

“Sasuke,” she breathed, trying to smile despite the pain. “You shouldn’t be wasting your chakra teleporting carelessly.”

Sasuke scoffed as he forced her to sit against one of the tunnel walls, “You’re one to talk,” he chastised, summoning a little chakra to the palm of his only hand. “Draining the last of your chakra healing lying snakes like that one. How annoying.”

She laughed nonchalantly and Sasuke wrapped his glowing hand around the back of her neck, focusing what healing powers he possessed to the center of her nape, pushing the chakra up into her skull. As Sasuke had watched her with Mako, the Uchiha had detected a drop in her chakra signal and saw her hand reach up to touch her eyes. He had known in that very moment that she had wasted what little chakra she had left on that bastard.

After a second, she pushed against Sasuke’s elbow weekly, signaling him to stop. “That’s plenty.”

Sasuke ignored her, pressing his fingers gently into her skin so she couldn’t remove them by fighting him. “Let me have my way, or we’ll be here longer,” he mimicked, repeating to Sakura her very own words when Sasuke had pushed her hand away from his forehead last night after he had overdosed on chakra pills.

She laughed in response, her voice already beginning to strengthen from the newfound energy. Her damn inhuman strength also returned slightly, because she was suddenly pulling his palm away from her neck and no amount of his strength would be comparable enough to hers to keep it there, no matter how much he might want to.

Sakura didn’t let go of it though as Sasuke expected, but instead grasped it with her own as she, too, used her other hand to gently cup her fingers around the back of Sasuke’s neck. There was no healing or sharing of chakra as he had done for her, and Sasuke realized that Sakura simply just wanted to experience the same sensation Sasuke had felt by touching her there.

Sasuke was thankful for the darkness because the sudden intimacy made him blush and react instinctively. He smoothly pulled at her fingers, pulling her hand down so that the inside of her elbow hung over his neck instead, and he used her arm to help lift her from the ground. Sasuke led her down the dim tunnel that Gaara had apparently fashioned. What a mole Gaara was, Sasuke thought for a second, cutting corners and creating paths through the sand so he could make it from point A to point B in the shortest distance possible.

“Sorry,” Sakura whispered beside him, she too, relishing this apparent excuse of supporting her to be so near to one another. “I know physical contact isn’t really one of your strengths. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me.”

Sasuke nodded, not quite sure what he wanted to say to that. Yes, displays of affection would always be…difficult, especially if anyone else was around. But there was a growing part of Sasuke that craved Sakura in ways he didn’t know were within him. Just moments ago, he had watched her lift the back of Mako’s shirt and run her hands along the traitor’s back and Sasuke had never frowned so deeply in his life at seeing her do so. She had performed such an action on countless ninja, including everyone in Team 7 at one point or another, and Sasuke couldn’t understand why such an act now suggested something more sensual. She had healed him on his back before and Sasuke had never been bothered by her touch, but he suddenly couldn’t stop imagining her fingers there. He had never had thoughts like this before, but then again, Sasuke had also never reached for a woman in the dark of a shared room, finding her lips with his mouth. Sasuke had crossed a line that he knew would require self-control from here on out.

“Let’s get you back to the room,” Sasuke stated as he shuffled her more securely against him. “You need rest so that you can recover.”

When they made it back to the inn which was conveniently not too far away from the underground prison, Sasuke opened the door for Sakura and stood within the frame after she entered. Observing her climb into bed and settling within the blankets, Sasuke asked something that had been bothering him ever since it occurred, “What did Mako tell you?”

“About what,” she requested in return for clarification.

“When he told you to save your chakra,” Sasuke prompted, probing his female friend’s mind for information despite her exhaustion. He had to know the details if he were going to keep her safe.

“Oh,” Sakura announced, sitting up on an elbow as she recalled the words. “He said there were more of them out there, the group that was after us in Tanigakure.”

Sasuke nodded, his suspicions confirmed. He had already guessed this, considering he had yet to find someone with the correct size and voice as the ninja he had confronted in the hallway of Tanigakure’s inn after the ninja had made an attempt to get Sakura to answer her door.

“I’m going back to the prison,” Sasuke said suddenly, waiting a moment more in the doorframe for a response.

Knowing him well, Sakura answered the question the Uchiha held on his tongue before he could even speak it. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

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

When Sakura finally woke, it was dark in the room, except for the small ray of light shining in through the window from the crescent moon. Sakura rubbed the back of her stiff neck, not realizing until now that she had slept on it crookedly, her exhaustion apparently dragging her so deep into a sleep that she slept the entire day away.

When she sat up, she started in surprise to see that Sasuke was still awake, sitting on his bed across the room, staring out the window. Sakura instantly recognized the fierce set of his jaw as one of annoyance.

“Sasuke?” Sakura called out to him, “What’s wrong?”

When his eyes landed on hers, he narrowed them, silently contemplating his next words to her. The anger in them made Sakura rise to her feet and go over to him. She sat slowly beside him as he stared at her with an unhappiness that had Sakura’s stomach dropping. “What happened?” Sakura asked again, reaching for his fingers splayed tensely across the bed. He didn’t move them.

“Why did you agree to let Gaara use you as bait to draw out the enemy?” he asked, forcing the words past his tightly set jaw. Sakura had never seen Sasuke upset with her like this and she didn’t know how she was supposed to react. She just returned his angry stare with an even expression, sighing smally as she released his hand.

“It’s the best option we have,” she explained. “I know it’s dangerous, but Gaara thinks—”

“I know what he thinks,” Sasuke interrupted as he stood, pacing over to the window and away from her. “I just spent hours listening to potential plans designed around this mutual decision of yours.”

Sakura swallowed thickly as more of the pieces concerning his frustration came together. “What other alternative is there?” she began, trying to lead him back to the only solution that made the most sense.

“I could go to Tanigakure, myself,” Sasuke suggested. “And intercept them before they made it here. A covert operation with one person wouldn’t involve Konoha and Suna. It would be discreet.”

“You have other business here, Sasuke. Focus on your mission and I’ll worry about this. I don’t want this to distract you—”

“Before,” Sasuke whispered in the dark. “The me before could have done so. But I can’t now. What is the point of my mission to find the Otsutsuki race and eliminate them as a threat when I can’t eradicate a group of ninja set on killing you?”

Sakura’s heart stilled at such words, knowing how difficult it was for Sasuke to admit such a thing to her. Rising, she made her way over to him, tenderly tucking her arms around his sides as she had done many times before, resting her forehead against his back. “I can take care of this, Sasuke. You don’t have to worry.”

There was no scoff or sneer at her words for saying such a ridiculous thing, and instead, Sasuke gripped her fingers at his waist like a lifeline. “I know,” he admitted, turning in her arms to face her.

Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet when he leaned his forehead against hers in the reflection of the moon. “I don’t doubt your strength,” he whispered. “But if something happened to you, I don’t know who I’d become again.”

“Sasuke,” she breathed, “You don’t have to worry about such things because I’m not going anywhere—not now—not when I can finally do this.”

Carefully, Sakura stood on her tiptoes, closed the distance between their noses, and pecked the scowling Uchiha right on the lips.  

A beautiful thing happened next and Sakura locked the image into her heart to last her a lifetime. Sasuke smiled. Actually smiled—just for a moment as he sighed in relief, and then his eyes lingered on her lips in return. His face grew serious again as he did so.

Daringly, Sakura pulled on his hand, and Sasuke followed her to his bed against the wall. He hesitated as she rose onto the bed with her knees, turning so that she faced his still-standing form, and cupped both of his cheeks with her palms. Sakura gazed into his dark eyes that reflected the moon as if they were their very own black and moonlit skies. She could see the struggle within them, so she didn’t take another step, didn’t make another move until Sasuke decided to do what Sakura knew he wanted to.

As she started to loosen her tender hold on him, Sasuke found the nape of her neck with his hand, just as he had in Gaara’s tunnel of sand, and she gasped at the warmth of his fingers. He crashed his mouth against hers, a kiss that was sweltering with need and desire, one so unlike the tender first kisses between them last night. At first, she was genuinely shocked at the emotions Sasuke was communicating through the kiss, and Sakura couldn’t believe her luck. He was kissing her, kissing her as a lover would and she couldn’t believe it. Sakura responded greedily, fastening her own fingers around the back of Sasuke’s neck. She deepened the kiss, responding to his need with a need of her own. Sakura pulled him down to her as their mouths moved against one another until he had no choice but to straddle her knee.

When Sakura’s fingers found their way under the hem of his shirt, Sasuke sucked in a sharp breath and broke away from her mouth long enough to tear the shirt from his skin. He guided her hand slowly back to his spine, holding her eyes with his. “Touch me,” he instructed.

She did as he asked, running her fingers up along his back slowly. She wasn’t so sure if she had just imagined him bite back a moan as he arched his back in response to her fingernails. Was this really happening? How far was he prepared to go with her? At this pace, they would—

“Touch me, too,” Sakura whispered against Sasuke’s teeth when his mouth found hers again. He, too, found the hem of her shirt and pushed it away from the skin above her right hip. Angling them so that they were on their side facing one another, Sasuke slid his fingers around to her back and sighed her name when he felt the dip in her spine.

“I have—” Sakura began to bring up an important factor to the natural progression of events like this, but Sasuke withdrew his hand from her skin and kissed her slowly one last time before pulling away and sitting up on the bed.

“It’s not going to happen,” he declared to the dark.

Sakura couldn’t help but feel the disappointment that suddenly doused the fire in her veins. “Why not?” she asked dejectedly, sitting back up to face him. She reached out longingly and traced the now-exposed clavicle of his chest.

“Think about it more before you decide,” he said, tenderly pulling her fingers away from his skin.

“I’ve given this plenty of thought,” she admitted too hurriedly, and instantly wished she could recant the words at Sasuke’s sudden smirk as he retrieved his shirt from the floor and slipped it over his head. “I mean,” she tried again, retracting back the meaning behind that sentence. “I want this.”

“Let’s keep you alive over the next few days. I don’t want us distracted by this.”

Distracted? Did he really not know that this almost that had happened between them would distract her every waking thought for the next several days? Her mind would recall every second and the longing for more would intensify the distraction. Sakura pouted silently to herself as she treaded back over to her bed across the room. Sasuke didn’t breathe another word and neither did she, because if they spoke or broke the silence, they might find their way back toward one another in the dark and Sakura had already promised to respect his wishes when he felt uncomfortable. Damn her mouth.

[deepwithintheabyss]

writing patterns

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @waffleinator-inator @anawrites3 and @vellaphoria

as I don't have 10 posted fics I'll be sharing some wip lines as well

Stupid Things [Jason/Tim]

Gotham rarely saw such beautiful days as this one.

Catch 22 [Slade/Tim]

Slade grunted satisfied as his release hit him, and pushed his hips almost impossible deeper into the lithe body beneath him. He inhaled once, savoring the feel of hot cum sloshing around his cock, before he leaned back with a deep exhale, so he could smirk down triumphantly at the trussed up little bird. With a half-lidded eye, he drank in the sight beneath him.

Sometimes all it takes is Love and Time [Slade/Dick]

Dick had grown up with rigidous meal plans and a minimum amount of what he should eat. It just came with being someone who was very physical active. This hadn't changed when his parents died and he came under the care of Bruce Wayne, if anything his food intake was only micro-managed more. The man drew up many plans as to how much he should eat if he was to go out as Robin.

Trust bleeds Red [Dick/Tim]

“It’s okay to be scared Tim” he whispers, as he caresses one soft cheek, relishing in the touch of warm skin on his, the way his angry rosy flush contrasts so nicely with Dick’s pale hand. He skillfully ignores the glare being sent his way, as Tim tries to twist away from his cold touch and the eye-contact he’s forcing onto him. “But please don’t fight me on this, I only want what’s best for you”

And when the darkness comes, you shall call my name [Jason & Tim]

Hood grinned under the helmet, breaking into the tower had been a fun challenge, he had debated about if he wanted to test out his old codes but in the end decided against it. He still didn’t know how he wanted the reveal to go exactly so it was better to not give the old man too many hints and give up the game too early.

WIP Sequel to "Trust bleeds Red" [Dick/Tim]

They’re in one of the living rooms when Tim finally breaks.

WIP OJT Week Day 3 [Jason/Tim]

Jason’s body had been trying to kill him ever since he regained clarity in the pit.

WIP Rock Hard Tension [Dick/Tim]

Tim had always been too tense for anything and everything in his life, but he made it work. He did stretches and bending and being a vigilante even if his body screamed and protested him. He learned how to move with and not against his body to keep himself from harm.

running out of good wips to share here 😅

WIP Feral Alpha Tim wooing Omega Jason [Jason/Tim]

Struggling in Ivy's bonds Tim curses his luck. Of course he would get caught on the one night where he really could not deal with this. His brain and patience were equally fried from all the posturing he had to do and put up with in the last few hours. Galas were the worst and in Tims opinion they could all burn in hell, but being a public figure meant he had to attend them and play along, put on a nice face and smile as if he he enjoyed getting his nose assaulted by the posturing alphas and omegas that loved to crowd him for his status alone. And the few that didn't came for his appearance. Alphas crowding him about how he looked like the prettiest O they have ever seen. Talking about how they could give him everything he wanted if he just let them, how he would look so pretty dominated and bent down. How he would make a beautiful bitch.

WIP RedRobinYum [Tim/Any]

Red Robin groaned as Nightwing pushed him across the desk. “Careful,” he whispered, “I'm still quite sore from sparring.”

I know I already reached 10 but because some of these are wips that might or might not get rewritten I'm gonna share 2 more

WIP Waffle Prompt [Jason/Tim/Steph]

Tim groaned when he caught sight of Steph entering the library, she looked around for a second before spotting him and made her way over grinning like the maniac she was. He was sure that if they weren’t in a library she would have whooped as well, drawing the attention of half of the college just so she could embarrass him more.

WIP “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” [Dick/Tim]

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you” Dick breathed into Tim’s hair. Tim only grumbled and shifted closer in his sleep, pressing close to Dick. “Come on” he coaxed gently, shaking the sleeping figure softly. Tim grumbled some more, clearly trying to cling to sleep but failing. One eye opened up to glare at him, but the heat of the gaze was tampered by the haziness of sleep still clinging to him. Inwardly, Dick cooed at the fact that Tim felt safe enough around him not to spring to immediate attention at the slightest disturbance. 

Already I can tell I like to start with long lines

Wasn't sure if this meant just the first sentence or like the first complete line/paragraph, so I went with paragraph

and I'm tagging uuhhh

@bi-bats @ragnarokhound @littlemourningstarr @cadkitten @zeroducks-2 @disniq and myself because apparently tumblr wants me to do that @deepwithintheabyss ??