#it's like 'i want her to pull a nettles!' but they actually mean they want her to keep sacking cities with drogon. buddy.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sissytobitch10seconds · 1 year ago

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Gentleness

Fandom: Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story Summary: Sometimes, he has a need that he has to ask for. Brimsely has never really been good at that. Warnings: Period-typical homophobia, anxiety, crying during sex, and romantic misunderstandings Word Count: 4,615 Ship(s): Brimsley/Reynolds

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A/N: My first work in this part of the fandom! I don't know what these two are typically headcanoned to be or the way that they're always written, but I thought that this would be cute. I really liked writing them being soft with each other but I had to throw some angst in there because that's just who I am. Hope you guys enjoy! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

He could feel the need for something itching under his skin like nettles.

Sam Brimsley almost physically shuddered when he realized the comparison that his mind had come up with. He had been very young when he had first encountered the plant in the back of his father’s home. Unfortunately, he wasn’t young enough to forget the painful way that the rash had spread over every part of his skin that had touched it. The tiny spines had wormed their way under his skin and then further throughout his body until they were trapped deep under his skin. His mother had to take one of her sewing needles, hot from her fingers and the fire, to his palm so that she could get all of them out.

It was an accurate description to how he was currently feeling, however. He could taste the desire that he had for something on the back of his tongue and his skin felt tender at the idea of getting it. It was almost painful, the way that his heart ached with the need of it.

He would never admit that was what he needed, not when his queen still had need of him. He had gone through all those years of schooling and months of grueling training, including on how to stand still with nothing to do for hours and how to exist on very little sleep, specifically so that he could always be five steps behind her. He was glad that Queen Charlotte had turned out to be the kind of royal that was willing to bid him back to his chambers and sent random people after him instead of always keeping him at his post, at least.

As soon as the door to the study shut and the normal noises that came on even days began to emit from it, Sam stepped further away from the door. He was glad that the royal couple was making progress on procuring an heir for their family and the people of the United Kingdom as a whole, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to hear it necessarily.

“Do you want to come back to my chambers?” Reynolds asked, his hard clear blue eyes flickering down to the other man.

Reynolds was about a head taller than him, with blond hair that was always perfectly styled around his face and pulled back into the traditional ponytail. He wore a similar uniform to what Sam did, but it was blue instead of the red that signified he was to be kept by the queen. Their status difference was so slight, nothing like what actual nobles had to go through, but he felt it every time they were standing as they were now.

They had the same purpose, the same job, but they served different people. Sam was to be at Her Majesty’s side until death or punishment separated them, while Reynolds did the same for His Majesty. That slight difference, the ever-so-tiny change in pronouns for the title of who they served was the reason that the power imbalance hung between the two of them. It was the reason that Sam had always kept that fiercely burning desire stoked just enough to emerge inside of him instead of letting it die out. Sometimes, Reynolds needed to be put in his place and there was no better person in the entire world to do that than him.

“I think that we ought to head to mine today,” he replied just as quietly as the proposition had been given.

“Mine’s bigger,” the blond quipped. He had turned slightly so that they were facing each other, but it wasn’t enough that the guards would begin to panic about them breaking from their training. Everyone in Buckingham House was aware that they often snuck off when their masters were otherwise occupied anyway.

“That’s not what you said the other night,” Sam replied. He felt almost like Shakespeare, speaking something so obscene into the air without saying it outright.

Reynolds let out a snort in the back of his throat and then his cheeks tinted pink. As soon as he realized what he had done, he cleared his throat and then tilted his head down towards the hallway that would lead to the servant’s quarters. “Right, we best be on our way before they hear us talking and begin to yell,” he said.

“Of course,” Sam replied, stepping to the side so that he was able to pass. He almost waited for five paces to start going after the other man before he caught himself and hurried after him.

They walked in silence, as they always did when they were traveling to one of their quarters. The days where they spoke to each other in hushed arguments around kisses were reserved specifically for when they were very angry or frustrated about their jobs. It had only happened once or twice, and that was during the times that they never got to see each other. They now lived in the same building and could see each other whenever their masters were not being tended to by themselves. There was no need to incorporate their positions into their intimate relationship with each other.

Sam held the door open so that the other man could step through and then followed after. As soon as the heavy wood had swung back into its frame, he switched the lock into place so that no one could barge in on them. He focused on pulling off his gloves so that they could be as efficient as possible, not paying attention to what the other man was doing in the process.

“That’s new.”

He turned around when he heard the voice of his almost-lover, his eyes flickering around the room. He spent quite a bit of his time there, almost every waking moment that he wasn’t doing something with or for his queen. Finally he found it, the one thing that had been moved out of place from what the room had been the last time that Reynolds had occupied it.

“Just a bunch of letters that I haven’t gotten around to replying to yet. I was going to work on it this morning but the queen rose before I was expecting her to,” he explained. He sat down on the edge of his bed and began to work on the fiddlier buttons that were hidden above his chest. The waistline of his coat had to be taken in again, he had lost more weight since the queen and king had moved in together, so those buttons had gotten substantially easier.

“If you’re letting your work escape you so that we can have a romp together then perhaps I should retire back to my chambers. Alone,” Reynolds said, eyeing him in that way that he always did. It was hungry and hard at the same time, like he held some kind of disdain for the man that he was always running off with.

“I would never leave my work to do until after I had relations,” he scoffed. He couldn’t imagine why he had ever given the impression that he was so flippant about the things that he had been assigned to do as the queen’s man. Just because he didn’t have some grand secret to keep the same way that Reynolds did didn’t mean that what he was doing wasn’t important.

“Then what are they?” While he spoke, Reynolds was trailing his hands over the front of his jacket. He undid the buttons with quick, harried flicks of his fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the entire world. It made Sam want to bite him, he could almost feel the itching in his teeth over it.

Sam didn’t really want to answer, not when it could possibly get him in more trouble. He was so exhausted, had been for weeks, that the only thing he wanted was a big of pleasure before he had to return to work. He didn’t have to deal with an interrogation from someone that didn’t like him very much. “Personal letters. From friends that I studied with and my family. Now are you going to come over here or not?”

“Perhaps having you be the queen’s man was a mistake when the woman that the princess chose is so bossy,” Reynolds nearly snarled. He had such a feral animalistic side to him, it was as enthralling and sexy as it was annoying and tiring.

“You don’t like it when someone else finally has the upper hand, do you?” Sam asked, tilting his head to the side. He had grown up with three older brothers, one who had died in war and two who had gone on to be servants in other houses across the Empire, so he knew what it was like to be at the bottom of the pecking order. He had worked long and hard to refine his skill enough to work with the best of the best. Reynolds may have served the king, but Sam was going to be serving every king they had going forward by tending to Her Majesty when she was expecting.

“I wish you would just stop talking,” Reynolds replied. He leaned down and their mouths connected in a fiery, passionate kiss just as they had every time before. Tongues danced and pushed at each other while teeth nipped and pulled at every bit of skin that they could get any access to. While their mouths were occupied, their hands went to work. Both of them had been raised as servants so there was nothing that they could do that would settle them more than multitasking. Reynolds quickly pushed back the fabric of his coat so that it tumbled down to the ground and he was left in nothing but his thin white cotton shirt.

Eventually they had to break apart so that they could both gasp for breath. Instead of taking that time to snipe back and forth at each other even more than they had before, Reynolds began to trail nips and kisses down Sam’s neck. He whimpered and tossed his head to the side, allowing the other man more access. Even though he had been smart before, even though he had been snappish and short, there was nothing more that he needed in that moment than to have the control taken from him.

Sam reached out and grasped both of his arms so that he could take the other man with him as they tumbled down onto the bed. It was cushioned by the amount of quilts that he had snuck into his space to make it more inviting, but the mattress was so thin that it was still quite uncomfortable. “We’re doing this in my room next time,” Reynolds informed him as if he was the only one in the relationship that got to have any kind of a say in how it worked.

“Mine is closer to this side of Buckingham House,” he protested.

“But the Queen always has to come to the King on even days,” Reynolds replied. He ended the conversation by smashing their lips together in another long kiss. Sam was, for once, too tired to let the conversation continue. Usually when they got like this with each other he was more than willing to show his teeth and bite back just as passionately. This time, though, he was too worn down to try and get hot and bothered over an argument. It was just making him feel sad.

They shifted further back on the bed so that their entire bodies were encompassed by the sheets and pillows, before the disrobing continued. The shoes and socks came next, then the pants and smalls, all dumped down onto the ground beside the bedframe where their coats and shirts had already been.

Sam could do nothing more than let his hands fall down onto the pillows above his head, fingers grasping at the loose fabric so that he had something to ground himself. His cock was already painfully hard, weeping against the course dark hair that lined the bottom part of his stomach. He was gasping, throwing his head back so hard that his neck began to crook.

Reynolds continued the work that he had been doing without saying a single thing. His teeth, tongue, and lips all worked in conjunction with each other to make Sam feel as though he was going insane. The other man trailed kisses down from his neck, sucking a dark bruise onto his collarbone on the way, stopping only he reached Sam’s nipples. Reynolds then took the bud into his mouth and grazed his teeth over it until it was pert and darkly pink, blossoming obscenely against his skin.

While he was working with his mouth, his hands also continued their harried movements. He trailed his hands down Sam’s body until he reached the divots of his hips, holding them down and yanking him around whenever he began to squirm too much. He only continued his work when he had grown bored of just teasing his sort-of lover. His hands, calloused and rough as they were, contained nothing but gentleness as they reached for his cock and then began to stroke it.

It was an overwhelming sensation as it always was. Sam could feel his breath coming in gasps as fingers brushed over his cockhead and dragged his foreskin down before releasing all of it at once. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do other than whine when he felt a tongue flickering over his other nipple and then nails brushing against his ballsack.

Suddenly, it was all too much. The overwhelming pleasure that he usually felt when he was being manhandled turned to the awful overstimulation that he got when he had masturbated too much as young teenager. His skin felt like it was on fire and his throat was constricting around nothing. He needed to be free, he needed something that would soothe the aching burning hurt that was now coursing through him.

“Rey-Reynolds!” he cried, the tears that had been collecting in the corners of his eyes now pouring down his face like water boiled for a bath. He was shaking, all of his muscles constricting and loosening all at once.

This wasn’t the first time that he had cried during sex and he doubted that it would be the last. There was always something, on the back of his tongue and buried within the thoughts of his job in his mind. He knew that what they were doing was a sin against God and the church, it was dirty and shameful. But it felt so good that he couldn’t believe that it was inherently bad, that God had tempted them into something that they both enjoyed so fully only to condemn them for it by falling.

“Do you like that?” Reynolds asked, pulling his mouth away from where he had been teasing Sam’s nipple within an inch of his life. His beautiful lips, swollen and bruised from their kisses earlier, twisted into a smirk. The look immediately dropped from his features when he saw what his lover was going through.

Sam had barely even registered the fact that he had opened his eyes again, or that the hand on his now soft cock had been removed. The arousal that had tightened like a coil in his gut was long gone, instead of releasing so that it sent energy throughout his system dissipating like sugar in tea. He would have kept going or changed how things were going if it turned out that his body was simply too tired to maintain an erection. It was clear to both him and Reynolds that something was wrong.

“What is the matter with you?” the other man asked as he righted himself. His lovely golden hair had escaped the pompous hairdo that he contained it in every morning, allowing the long locks to brush against Sam’s face as their eyes leveled.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I… I am so tired.”

He knew that wasn’t the whole reason. He knew that there was more behind his sudden fit of crying, that he was upset for many other reasons. He couldn’t let a single one of them pass his lips, not to Reynolds. The other man wanted him for a quick fuck and nothing more. They had never shared more than an hour or two passed out next to each other and they never would. He had already tried to make his peace with that.

“I do not believe that hysteria and crying are something that comes with general exhaustion,” the blond replied. He slowly lowered himself down onto the bed next to Sam, and there he was able to feel the other man’s stiff member slowly loosing the arousal.

It should have been a relief to him, to know that he was no longer going to be expected to have the vulnerability of a man’s cock in his mouth when he felt so fragile and broken. Instead, he was simply overwhelmed with an unbelievable amount of grief and hurt. “I’ve ruined this whole evening.”

“Brimsely, you have done no such thing,” Reynolds replied. His usually harsh voice was so gentle, and that only made him cry harder.

Sam was unable to keep the sobs down in his chest, locked away below his throat where no one would ever be able to hear them. It was something that all servants learned how to do so that they would not end up wailing in front of the cruel masters that signed their paystubs and housed them.

“Please, do not call me that right now,” he whispered. Usually the name and the way that it was said gave him a sense of pride. He was doing something that provided for the family that he had left a hundred miles away, but now it brought him nothing but sorrow.

“Then will you finally tell me your name so that I can call you something else?” Reynolds asked.

Where their skin was touching felt like it was electrocuting and burning him at the same time. He had never known what it was to feel lightning through one’s blood, but he had to guess that it would feel something as he did now. He was exhausted and his heart and soul ached, but somehow being close to the other man in the way that he was now soothed it. “Sam,” he finally managed to get out.

Reynolds tilted Sam’s face up towards him like he had many times before when they were having some of their other daliances. “Please, tell me what is the matter, Sam.”

The words, thoughts, and feelings, had been trying to rise to the top of his skin since he had realized what they were the day before. He had tried to bite and swallow them back down so that he wouldn’t get threatened for being treasonous, even if one couldn’t police their own thoughts that far. Now that he was being asked, it all came tumbling out of him at once.

“I do not feel as though I am wanted here, I feel as though my only purpose on this earth is to be used. I know that is the point of being a servant, but Queen Charlotte so often tells me that she does not want me with her and she dismisses me every time we have a moment where she might begin to trust me more. She has only very recently allowed me to start speaking freely with her when she is having a problem. I was told to expect the worst because no one had any idea what kind of a woman she would be. When she arrived, she was so young and so obviously scared of what being Queen would mean for her. I tried to be there to support her but everything that I did was wrong. She does not want my help and that is the only thing I can offer her. Day in and day out, I follow five paces behind her and I wait for her to need something from me. I cannot give her anything.

“The only person that I can give something to is you. You take and it’s rough but at least you actually want something and I know what it is,” he finally ended his tirade. He had shared more than he had meant to, dug deeper into feelings that he had only prodded at until that point. He should have stopped long before he had spilled his entire heart out between them on the bed, but there was not a single way to unspeak something.

“Sam,” Reynolds whispered. “I was doing that because I thought that it was what you wanted. You are always so ready to argue with me that I just kiss you when I’m finished or can’t think of anything.”

“You’re so demanding when we come in here, I thought that you wanted to argue with me. I know that you do not see me as an equal, but I thought that you wanted someone who would push back and yet know his place,” Sam replied. “It is why I have never asked anything of you, not even your name.”

Before he could wince and hide his face away, ashamed of all the things that he had spoken when he had meant to keep them a closely guarded next to his heart, Reynolds was speaking again. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way, Sam. It was never my intention, I hope that you know that. You are the first man that I ever felt safe being my true self around. I had a single dalliance before you and it was with someone that was gone the next day, while I was traveling down here from my school in Wales. I… I suppose that I should have started this apology by telling you what my name was, shouldn’t I have?”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to be perfect all the time,” Sam replied. He reached one of his hands up so that he could caress the other man’s face. This was mode tender and intimate than anything they had ever done, including the day where Reynolds had been inside of him while they bathed together.

“My name is Frederick. You may call me Freddy if you so wish,” the king’s man said, his voice still soft but in that deep baritone that made Sam feel as if he were falling apart.

“I think I would like that very much,” he smiled shyly.

“I should be the one that’s telling you that you don’t have to be perfect, because you do not. I know that you are newer to the job than I am. Serving royalty, especially being the head valet to the queen or king, is a very difficult job. We are expected to see them at their worst and at their best. We are expected to know what they want before they say it because they should not have to ask. They were appointed by God to rule the land that we and our families live in, which means that they have more power than either of us could ever dream of,” Freddy said. He was speaking more than he had since their first initial argument. It was the kind of sound and affection that Sam wanted to drown himself in.

“I just wanted to be the best servant that I could be,” Sam sighed. “I think I’ve failed on that, and being what you needed from me.”

“What I needed was a companion, which was why I refused to be near you when other people were watching. I have to make sure that we are both kept safe, when the world is such a hostile place to people like us,” Freddy murmured. He leaned down and pressed a kiss so tender and full of love to Sam’s brow that he felt as if he might die on the spot. “I do not want to lose you. You are not just a rider to me, you are someone that I cherish deeply. I was overjoyed when I found out that the king and queen were going to move back in together and it would result in us being able to live together. You do not know how hard it was for me to restrain my jubilation.”

“I was scared, I thought that you would grow tired of me if I was no longer something you only got on special occasions,” the smaller man answered with a small shake of his head.

The phrase that he had used seemed to anger Freddy. Without realizing it, they had moved so that they were laying together as a married couple might. Freddy’s head was pillowed by the headboard and some of the sheets that had been rucked up, his back supported by the pillow. Sam was resting with the side of his head against Freddy’s shoulder and left pectoral, his middle pressed against the other man’s hip. Freddy’s arm was around his shoulders and brushing soft lines that might have been shapes or words on the skin of his upper arm.

“I wish that you would not refer to yourself in that way,” Freddy said gently. “You are not something that someone gets to have, like you are chattel to be bought and sold. You are a person and anyone that is blessed enough to get to spend time in your presence should be grateful for it.”

He had wanted someone to say that to him since he was a little boy. He was the fourth boy in his family, absolutely no prospects were going to be passed down to him even if something terrible happened to the rest of his brothers. He had always been treated as something that another family could use, a husband for an errant daughter or a hand for a struggling farm. Even when he had risen to the top of his class during his training to become a servant, he had been treated as if he was a tool for some noble that would never learn his name or age would use.

But Freddy saw him as the person that he was. Despite him grandly misconstruing what their relationship was going to be so that neither of them were getting or giving what they wanted, Freddy had seen through it and to him. He was able to speak the affirmation into the air like it was both a promise and something that should have been a given.

It made Sam feel as though he was disintegrating. He tilted his head up so that he could stare into those crystalline blue eyes that his lover held, finding the words that would have usually come so easily to him. “I’m sorry that I created a disaster out of our relationship, Freddy.”

Freddy pressed his nose down into Sam’s hair, “Again, love, you do not have to be perfect. I am as much at fault for the way that our dalliances were going as you were. I would only ask that you promise to tell me when you need gentleness in the future so I do not have to see you cry and worry it was something I had done.”

It was the easiest thing he had ever had to say, both in their current conversation and throughout his entire life. He tilted his head up, a kiss on his lips and breath flooding into his lungs for the first time in days.

“I promise.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #brimsley #reynolds #reynolds x brimsley #brimsley x reynolds #queen charlotte #bridgerton #qcabs

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sweetestpopcorn · 2 years ago

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Lol just saw this Daemon/Laena shipper claim that if Baelon was alive he'd have Daemon marry Laena, in order to merge the bloodlines to compensate for the rift created between the Targaryens and the Velaryons. I can't like- what even is this??

I mean... they can have that headcanon, honestly stuff like that doesn't bother me at all. Ship and let ship. I don't like the pairing but I respect that other people do. Do I agree with that opinion? No, but plenty of people will also disagree with my takes if they dislike Daemyra.

My issue with Daemon/Laena stans is when they make sh:t up about canon to fit their narrative. Just recently @lady-corrine saw an idiot claim that Daemon and Laena wanted to name their son Aegon, and they claimed this was from the books. When the person was called out they conveniently changed their source to "early draft of George" that they were unable to provide evidence for.

Even if that were true - which, let me make it VERY clear, it's not - love child, Daemon didn't exist in George's early drafts. Before 2013 we have no evidence of his existence what-so-ever. Hells, Laenor didn't exist until much recently either! In George's early drafts, Rhaenyra was first married to a Lannister and she had no children with him, and then she was married to *drum roll* Lord Lyonel Strong, the King's Hand, and she had three children by him. This was in 2011 if anyone is wondering by the way, and yes I have the receipts and you can check this at the wiki. Early drafts don't matter because they are not the story. George has updated the Targaryen history and made profound changes to the story several times prior to the publication of Fire and Blood.

So, this is what actually bothers me, people lying and making up cr_p. There's also a special category of people that not only make things up but pull between book and show for whatever fits their narrative. I've recently had one of the biggest facepalms ever of my life when someone claimed that in the books it was mentioned that Daemon only loved Viserys - books say the opposite, this sh:t was pulled fresh, hot, and tender out of R*an and co's ass_s - and Nettles and Laena - again their entire claim to Laena is what the singers said and to Nettles it was HIGHLY debatable and we don't actually know what she was to Daemon.

And then of course, there's also the gargantuan amount of Laena/Daemon shippers who can't f_cking keep Daemyra from their mouths.

Like dude, just don't mention them! But no, most just have to go on and on about how Rhaenyra was a disgusting pig of a woman, how Daemon hated her, like hell! I have heard them say things like Rhaenyra forced Daemon to marry her! Like this is the level - or lack-there-of.

But, to those Laena/Daemon shippers who are just enjoying their ship, let them, nothing against and all the power to them for hyping their ship and having fun, and I think what you are mentioning is just that.

I personally don't agree, but I don't have to 🤷🏽‍♀️

#daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #canon daemon targaryen #canon rhaenyra targaryen #the rogue prince #the princess and the queen #fire and blood #pre asoiaf #canon daemyra #valyrianscrolls #popcorn answers

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dulcewrites · 2 years ago

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Double standards.

Alicent is a bad mother

She has them young. YOUNG.

and people actually believe by being a single mother is easy,also at 14 years old..ew just ew..just please: it is not and my mother constantly tells me to have my children when I'm older because having kids is a choice and a labour.

Alicent was forced to, Nyra as well and at the end of the day she has the fortune and misfortune to bore Harwin's children,condemning them because they are bastards and we know that in the game of thrones, the war happened because Cersei's children were illegitimate despite looking alike their mother.

Alicent didn't give Helaena to Jace because she knew the danger of it, didn't another civil war happened between a legitimate and another illegitimate Targaryen?the blackfyre rebellion i think and it didn't end well...at all

They call Alicent a cunt, when you know who is the really cunt here:the men but I don't see anyone blaming them and among them, I'm talking about Daemon.

Him.

Who killed his first wife, ignored the second and his daughters and who, in the books, has abandoned his third wife(who was grieving her children's death)and groomed a teenager(the people trying to call Nettles his daughter when he ignores the others and it's canon he likes younger girls..ew)

Him

Who at least try to connect with her daughter, despite not understanding her hobbies and believing she was odd.

Alicent.

Who loved her children more than anyone else because they were all she had

Alicent who stood in front of her son to protect him

And we know what a mother would do for love

Alicent is my morally gray character, also Rhaenyra, flawed and tragic -the dance of dragons is gonna wreck me

sorry to rant, thse comments and tik tok pisses me off so muchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It’s just so funny to me bc all the same people who say they want morally grey characters (while praising just straight up evil ones like daemon) or lie and say they would rather have book Alicent, drag Alicent anytime she does something relatively mean or ‘cunty’.

Like which one is it?? You want female characters to be allowed to stand in their evilness or you hate show Alicent for apparently being the most evil woman to grace westeros. You can’t have it both ways. It’s goalpost moving bc they know damn well they would hate Alicent all the same, maybe even more, if she was pulled straight from f&b. They hated her even before the show aired… based on her book character 😭. Even though she’s not the most devious person on team green, let alone out of all the characters. Book Rhaenyra does way more shit if we are being real. But she’s a blonde dragon rider so she’s allowed to do that.

It’s why I hate the whole ‘alicent has no agency. Alicent is just a victim’ argument. Alicent throughout the season challenges and pushes against multiple people. And even if she didn’t, why is Alicent required to show her victimhood in a way that makes people comfortable. If she wants to be anxious, jealous, bitter, or angry, she (out of anyone) is allowed to be. I think Rhaenyra stans have this weird idea that everyone must be benevolent towards her bc she’s the ‘main character’. Like I’ve literally seen people on Twitter say that Helaena deserved what happened to her and her kids bc she didn’t warn Rhaenyra. Why on earth would Helaena side with a woman she barely knows? They cling to that “Helaena my sweet sister” or whatever the fuck it was line. Not taking into account that Rhaenyra only thinks that way bc she doesn’t she Helaena as a threat. If Rhaenyra actually cared about her sister, she wouldn’t have put a bounty of her kids head’s. Literally all of Alicent’s kids know Rhaenyra would throw them under the bus in a heartbeat, why would they trust her lmao

And one day we will have a conversation about a lot of people use Helaena as either a self insert or only talk about her if they prove she hates team green… despite that being the only family she knows

#this all over the place but yes it’s double standards #asks and requests

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the-writer-nerd-ro · 4 months ago

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This is a direct follow-up to The Game Is Afoot

Apology Flowers

Hunter didn’t know what was more surprising, the fact that Maddox had shown up at the funeral home unannounced or the fact that Maddox had cut off all her hair.

“Marian isn’t here,” Hunter said immediately, so that she didn’t say something blunt about her cousin’s haircut. It was nice, it was just wildly different.

“I know.” Maddox squirmed in shame, “I was wondering if you would help me with a project.”

She phrased it so carefully so as not to say she needed Hunter’s help.

“What’s up?”

“I need to talk to Petunia. In person.”

“Okay, I can tell you where her shop is.”

Maddox pressed her lips together and looked down.

“Can you come with me?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to show up alone, she’ll think I’m trying to start some shit. I need a second.”

“Are you trying to start some shit?”

“No! I’m trying to apologize for how I behaved during game night.”

“Why don’t you just go with Marian?”

“Because then he’ll think I’m only apologizing because he was upset with me but I’m not. Do I have to explain my entire thought process or can we just go?”

Hunter crossed her arms.

“I’ll buy you a Speedy Freeze,” Maddox added.

“Alright, let’s go.” Hunter followed Maddox to her convertible.

“When did you get your haircut?”

“The day after graduation. Mom wanted me to keep my hair long for photos in case I regretted cutting it.”

“Do you regret it?”

Maddox ran her hand through her short hair, a faint smile on her face. “I do not.”

“Good, it suits you.”

That was about as sincere as they were allowed to get, so the rest of the drive was primarily in silence, except when Maddox turned on the radio. It was country music, which Hunter normally hated, but she didn’t say anything until a familiar song came on.

“Sara likes this one, it’s from an album her dad shared with her.”

“I’ve never heard Sara talk about her dad,” Maddox commented.

“Yeah… Her family isn’t like ours.”

“Oh.” Silence again, though Maddox turned up Bon Jovi and Jennifer Nettles.

A few minutes later, they pulled up to “A Pocket Full of Petunias.”

Maddox seemed nervous, and Hunter wished she were better equipped to encourage people.

“Alright,” deep breath, “let's do this.”

Hunter gave Maddox a weak thumbs up, and they stepped inside.

Petunia was busy with a customer, so she didn't notice the pair right away. When she did she lit up.

“Hunter, Maddox, hey! I love what you did with your hair, Maddox.”

“Oh, thank you,” Maddox shifted on her feet.

“How can I help you guys today?”

Another deep breath and then Maddox snapped into orator mode, a practiced speech on the tip of her tongue.

“I wanted to talk to you, don't worry, I'll keep this brief.”

“No worries, what's on your mind?”

“I wanted to apologize for my less than warm welcome during game night, you didn’t deserve my disrespect and I can recognize when I go too far, so I’m sorry. We were glad to have you and I hope you’ll be able to join again in the future.”

“Thanks, Maddox, that means a lot to me. Honestly, though, you didn’t make me feel unwelcome. You just reminded me of my younger brother.”

“You have a brother?” Hunter asked in surprise.

“Yeah! Two, actually, I’m the middle sibling. My younger brother’s name is Zac and my older brother’s name is Quinton. Quint lives in the city but Zac is at college in Florida.”

“Is Zac…” Maddox considered the nicest way to describe herself, “Opinionated?”

“Mm-hm, and according to him all of my opinions are wrong. He’s a good kid, though, and I knew right away that you are too.”

“Thanks, Petunia. I really am glad that you came to game night, you’re welcome back at anytime.”

Hunter didn’t comment that Maddox didn’t actually have the authority to invite Petunia to Marian’s house, she had a feeling that Marian also wanted Petunia there.

“I appreciate it, I had a lot of fun last time, if you guys will have me I’d be happy to come back.”

Maddox hesitated a second, glancing around. “I should probably buy some flowers, since I wasted so much of your time.”

“Not a waste of time, but I’d be happy to find you some flowers that you like.”

“What’s that one?” Maddox asked, pointing to some orange and pink flowers.

“Those are zinnias.”

“I’ll take a dozen of those, I guess.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Petunia said reassuringly.

“No, I like them.”

Petunia nodded and arranged a dozen flowers, writing a note of how to take care of the flowers to make sure they lasted as long as possible.

“Have a nice evening, feel free to visit me any time!”

Maddox waved and then they stepped out of the shop. As soon as they were back in the car Maddox handed Hunter the flowers.

“You can have them, they’re lesbian colors.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Silence.

Hunter noted that Maddox had not really apologized to her for the whole ordeal, but the flowers were nice, and that was more than she’d expected.

“You still owe me a Speedy Freeze,” Hunter reminded.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your Speedy Freeze.”

#hunter richardson #maddox richardson #petunia watts #drawfee #drawfee fanfiction #oh no you caught me another fic that's more about my ocs than it is about hunter or sara #whatever i can do what i want it's sphere month

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luveline · 3 years ago

Text

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #harry potter imagine #fred Weasley imagine #fred Weasley x reader #reader insert #reader has acne #reader is an unreliable narrator #reader x fred Weasley #fred Weasley fanfic #fred Weasley fluff #hurt/comfort #Fred weasley x reader

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atopvisenyashill · 7 months ago

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so dany is tptwp but why do they feel the need to rectify that in the show 😭

i’m 99% sure dany’s going to have a religious fanatic arc in the books

I'm putting these together because they're kind of related. also i don't want to tag for hotd spoilers because i don't want to invite weird anons to find this or weirdos to screenshot my url so be warned i'm talking about the leaks and my dark dany theories in this one. okay-

So first of all...yes, this is why people compare her to Paul Atreides or even Anakin Skywalker in that the concept of being a Chosen One is going to go to her head in a very bad way and it's going to be a huge part of her story going forward. We're all set for this in the books tbh. We have several schisms happening in the R'hollor faith with people already saying she's a savior, and the fact that R'holloric magic works similar to Valyrian magic (ie uses a lot of fire and blood) is not lost on me. There's several prophecies centered around this Promised Hero In The Face Of The Long Night and Dany is linked to several of them; most notably The Prince That Was Promised and The Stallion Who Mounts The World, but now we have this Azor Ahai connection with the R'hollor priests coming out in support of Dany. And what's more is that Dany is primed to believe in all of this stuff - she hatched dragons and the bleeding star showed up with haste, she's had first the HOTU visions and then Quaithe's warning not to mention the whole Stallion scene and her own weird fever dream-prophecies. There's a whole city state of people who call her MOTHER. Oh yeah, she is ready to take a dive head first into being the Chosen One and make that the center point of her entire campaign. Especially imo after Stannis dies and there's this vacuum of who gets to be the insane "i have the divine right" person; Jon Snow doesn't even want to acknowledge he can warg he is not going to encourage any sort of prophecy shenanigans, and I think that opens the door for a) Dany to step into that role and b) for the followers of R'hollor sans Melisandre to see Dany as their messiah.

The problem in the original show is that they bring this up and then just kind of...drop it. When in the books - whether she is killed by Jon/Arya or ultimately pulls a Nettles - this isn't going to be a positive thing. I've seen some people describe these prophecies - The Stallion, The Prince, Azor Ahai - as warnings rather than prophecies, but to be honest, aren't all prophecies warnings of the future? The thing is the warning isn't just the Long Night, it's about The Actual Prince. Look to the Stallion prophecy-

As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name." The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world."

I think the prophecy, the dream, the vision, the warning, the legend, whatever you want to call it, is warning that as the Long Night happens, a savior will emerge...but they are a false messiah. They will not bring an end to the Long Night, they will only create more destruction. But the people who had these prophecies focused on Bad Thing Happens -> Powerful Person Emerges From The Ashes and took that mean the powerful person will stop the bad things and not exacerbate the bad things and distract from the original problem.

Now I think part of why D&D did the ending Like That is a) they're lazy as shit and b) Dany took off as a character and they had no idea how to reign it in so they just like....didn't. I think there's plenty of evidence in the show that Dany was going to take a Stannis esque turn but depicting that was too much trouble (think about how they cut all her most banger lines because that would involve trying to get her introspective thoughts into dialogue somehow. instead of figuring it out, they just lazily cut it all out. i still can't believe these dudes got handed this IP when they clearly don't care about the themes, it makes me fucking weep. like, filoni and abrams really fucked up star wars but i think it's clear they like star wars ya know? i don't think d&d really like this series that much, not in the way condal & hess seem to) so they just short cutted to that bells scene which was fairly lazy. Her fall from grace is going to be so much slower, so much more complex, and so much more heart breaking than what was in the show. And a large part of this will center around seeing herself as a messiah to the Poor And Downtrod.

And this fall (again....I don't think it’s out of the realm of possibility that Dany snaps out of it somehow - George has hinted we're going to dig more into the magic and how it works, and perhaps there will be some revelations on the exact nature of what The Promised Prince really is that makes Dany finally reflect on her journey instead of refusing to look back, and fuck off into the Great Unknown in an attempt to erase herself from the narrative others have written for her and write her own at last. I'm serious when I say I think that's about as likely as Jon/Arya killing her after she burns KL). this fall of hers is the crux of the entire series. It's where everything is leading to, this realization that there is no promised prince coming to save anyone, it is the climax of every single story in the books. And we know Condal fucking LOVES that idea because he's been out here in interviews talking about Dark Dany since season 6 iirc but potentially even earlier. I think Condal really loves a tragic evil queen and a fall from grace and he didn't like the way they did Dany's descent. Not only that but I do think the prophecy aspect is fascinating to Condal.

The problem with all of this is like.......you can't rewrite the ending of GOT to have that aspect of the story as much as he wishes he could. You can't rewrite GOT so it had 12 seasons instead of 8. I think what he wants to do is really hint at the prophecies in the future and play with the concept of prophecy being untrustworthy but he's been boxed into this weird corner where interacting with the main story line of the books/the main show is nearly impossible because everyone hated it and george will never finish the books but this prophecy affected much more than we realize and also, He Likes It, he thinks it makes for a richer story. IDK how he fixes this, IDK where he goes from here, because having Daemon have a vision of Dany hatching eggs and realizing the prophecy was right, they DO need a Targ on the throne because a Targ will save Westeros IS imo a really interesting change that more or less fits with the story in F&B. BUT it looks like pandering, and it doesn't engage with the ultimate end game which is that Dany is not going to be happy with being the Chosen One. It's not a gift, it's not even a responsibility, it's a horror she's being forced to take up that could eat her alive. How do you even engage with those themes when the original show went Like That?

#asks #anons #edit omg so many typos my work keyboard is dying

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darthmaulification · 4 years ago

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Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him.

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

#star wars #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars din djarin #star wars luke skywalker #din djarin x you #luke skywalker x you #anon ask #anon #request

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thorns-ofthe-thistle · 2 years ago

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Thistle didn't know what they were doing.

They would never admit this, of course.

They were used to complicated family dynamics, after all. They had usurped the throne from their sister, Bramble. She was still bitter about it. The twins, Mayfly and Dragonfly, liked him well enough--but most of his other siblings had sided with Bramble. After all, who was he, a mere-half fae, to take over from their father. Bramble had been raised from childhood to rule.

But Bramble was cruel. And Prince Nettle was not.

Prince Nettle, Thistle was quite sure, had actually loved his mother.

Why else would he have come for Thistle? Other High Fae with mortal children simply left them to their own devices. They rarely brought them to Elfhame. They had never before made them not only royalty, but heir to the throne. Nettle had never even mentioned Theodosia to him, but Thistle had never mentioned this family: Florence, Alice, Elizabeth, even Lewis to Prince Nettle either.

Silence did not mean you did not care.

He wasn't sure what to say now. That silence was all he knew.

He did not know how to explain all of this. After all, Florence didn't know. Growing up, she had known there was something different about her cousin Theodore. Who never aged. Who dropped by only once every few years for a short time but otherwise never wrote.

She had never asked, and Thistle had loved her even more for that.

Now was the time.

Alice took his hand, it was warm and small, just like it had been all those years ago. He looked at her, heavy brows pulled low over his eyes--but Alice just looked at him, steady and sweet, her eyes two pools of familiar brackish water.

"Oh, how lovely," Florence said with a frail smile. "You don't visit enough, either of you."

"I know, I apologize." Thistle sat down on the bench next to Florence's wheelchair. He pulled Alice down with him. "We can come much more now, the both of us."

"Would you?"

"Of course."

"I don't believe you," Florence chuckled as Thistle frowned, knowing he would be, even if she couldn't see his face clearly.

"Cousin Teddy is always off on some far away adventure. You remind me of him, you know," Florence said. She nodded her head once. To her, this was something she had said before. Perhaps it was. No matter, it was the truth now.

"Neither you have ever wanted to stay in one place."

@go-askalice

Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul . [Thalice]

#swynalice #thalice #hungry eye ancient soul #im emo

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falling-pages · 4 years ago

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A bird? A bird: Hikaru x Haruhi

in which drunk Hikaru is a mood.

Hikaru Hitachiin x Haruhi Fujioka

Enemies to lovers, non-host club au, aged up au.

TW: Drinking

The disgust lingered in the back of his throat like iron, like a bad pill you swallow but not fast enough. He fumbled the chaser to his liquor, and now he was stuck with the gross aftertaste. The refuge of his office, where he gulped down air like water, could only last so long. He couldn’t even go out in the common area, break room or restroom without having to see her--and for that, for taking away his freedom and social butterfly antics, he hated her.

Every time he saw her cute little snarl and tight little bun and stiff black skirts enraged him, filling his blood with a heat he didn’t know how to deal with. Despite her short height, she held her nose in the air as she worked, the only way she could look down on everyone like she so desperately craved. Always propping up her law degree, well this and actually that, ruining any jokes he made with a deadpan stare. She messed with his head, distracted him from his work, and for that she must go.

As much as he had tried to get her fired--and he had tried--nothing made the boss budge. He tried pulling rank, as the head of the software department; he tried using his parents’ names; nothing worked.

She’s doing a stellar job, the bossman had said. And, she’s our lawyer. If we did fire her for no reason, she would sue us into the ground.

I do have a reason, Hikaru retorted. She annoys me.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it seemed good enough for him.

Hikaru inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself by gripping his desk. Surrounded by all his trophies and achievements, he still could only think of her. He had to handle this, or else he’d go insane, but he had no idea where to start.

Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do.

He rose from his chair, taking one last look behind him at the stained glass city through his clear glass window. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, the city was pulsing and alive with color, birds dive-bombing for food, vendors hawking at passersby, tourists mixing and bumping into natives. Tokyo was loud, and crazy, and alive, where he knew he belonged and longed to be. Even nature was straining at its leash for the workday to end, eager to celebrate the Friday night.

He turned back and shut the lights off in his office, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. His department was rather quiet, having given his employees the afternoon off. If Haruhi knew, she would chide him, but they were so far ahead of schedule that he couldn’t risk them burning out.

Once up the stairs and around the corner, he heard his brother’s voice laughing and chatting and speak of the devil, she’s here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Karou and Haruhi were surprisingly great friends; he tended to mellow her out, help her unwind from the stick up her ass. He just had that calming effect on people.

As soon as he saw her, Hikaru spun a 180 and turned right back around the corner, and Haruhi would have let him, but Karou intervened.

“Hika! Come over here!” he waved, a bright smile splitting his face. “Haruhi was just telling me how much she liked you!”

Haruhi seethed, switching to a guarded pose as soon as she saw him. “I certainly was not.”

“Oh, right, my bad, she was telling me how much she liked your latest game patch,” Kaoru apologized, but it was the furthest thing from sincere. “Tell us about how you came up with it. Haruhi would love to pick your brain.”

Hikaru smirked, testing the waters as he approached. “Is that true, Fujioka?”

She frowns, pushing her bridge up her glasses up her nose. God, those glasses. She looked so dumb in them, making her eyes seem so wide, so innocent, so...pretty. All he wanted to do was pluck them off her face and laugh as she jumped for them, reaching and whining.

“I mean, it’s original, for sure,” she said. His cheeks warmed at the praise, even as she squirmed. “And it should market well, and you didn’t infringe on anyone’s copyright this time.”

That wasn’t my fault. He took the compliment with a grain of salt, biting back, “Still in the whole get-up, I see. Not much for casual Fridays?”

As amber eyes raked down her body, Haruhi concealed the shiver that ran down her spine. “No, actually, because I didn’t go to law school to wear jeans every day at work.”

“You didn’t go to law school to become a smartass, either, but here we are.”

“OKAY!” Kaoru exclaimed, jumping up between them. “Friday afternoon, yeah? Any big plans for the weekend?”

Both instigators ignored him. “That’s the uniform, you know. We tend to be pretty laid back around here.”

“Lawyers can’t be laid back. Laziness and a laissez-faire attitude is how we get sued.”

Hikaru stretched, rolling his eyes. “Woah, woah, pardon your French.”

Haruhi shook her head, and a few mismanaged strands of hair fell from her bun to brush against her neck. Her pink lips perched in contempt, and she looked so fragile, squinting behind her thick-framed glasses, that he couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged so tastefully over her--

“Hika!” Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Honey wants to know if we’re still down for drinks tonight.”

His saving grace. “Oh, my God, yes,” he moaned, salivating already at the thought of tequila burning down his throat. Washing the week away was just what he needed, especially with the way this conversation was going.

And then Kaoru did the unthinkable: With his award-winning smile, he turned to Haruhi and asked, “Would you like to come?”

Hikaru could have strangled him.

But God heard his prayers, and the resident buzzkill shook her head. “Thank you, but sorry. I don’t drink.”

“No surprise there,” Hikaru murmured.

Kaoru definitely heard that, but if Haruhi did, she didn’t react. He shot his twin a look, a be polite etched into the lines of his brow.

“Sad,” Kaoru said. He bent over to pick up his work bag, stuffing his bento within and waving to Haruhi. “Maybe next time? We can go out for boba or something.”

Haruhi smiled--Hikaru didn’t think he had ever seen that before. It did something to him; suddenly, he felt as if his body was shaking, like his throat was full of needles, like he had taken one too many to the head.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, and the smile disappeared when she looked at him. She gave them both a quick nod. “Have a great weekend.”

“Thanks.”

“See you Monday!”

Hikaru waited until they were out the door before punching his twin in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Dude, watch it,” Kaoru snapped, brushing over the mussed fabric of his cardigan sleeve. “It’s cashmere.”

“Stop flirting with her.”

Kaoru stopped in his tracks. A cloudy sky obscured the smirk on his face. “Woah, what’s got you so worked up?”

Hikaru kept stomping towards their subway stop, too lost in his own anger to notice who he had left behind. “‘M not worked up,” he retorted. “But you’re dating Kyoya. You shouldn’t be flirting with a girl.”

Kaoru skipped to catch up, joining him as they descended the stairs. “Kyoya said it’s fine if I flirt, as long as I come home to him every night.”

It took everything in Hikaru to keep him from shoving his brother into the sad, drab gray stone walls. He couldn’t put a finger on the irritation nettling just below his skin, or why the first layer of his heart seemed to simmer whenever he caught them talking to each other. All he could figure out was that it burned, and it made him hate her even more.

When he stayed silent, Kaoru knew he was right. He preened as he dug around for his subway card. “Boba isn’t a date.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then maybe you should ask her out on one.”

By then they were at the platform, waiting for their train. As the whistle signaled its approach, Hikaru very seriously considered pushing Kaoru onto the tracks.

“Tch. Over my dead body.”

“Then you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not--”

Hikaru threw a punch when the train approached, distracting him and allowing Kaoru to live to see another day. As they hurried on, Hikaru couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter--or off her.

Jealous. Pshhh.

-- - -- -- - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I dunno, senpai, she just….she makes me feel something. Whenever she talks to me it’s like my hands are on fire, and my head hurts, and I feel like….like she’s stabbing me. There’s something going on in my chest, like a, like a--a bird. There’s a bird or a butterfly or something with wings in my stomach, and I don’t like it.”

Hikaru knocked back a shot and signaled for another one, eyes bleary as he tried to find the bartender. There were three of them, or maybe that was just how blurry his vision was, but he didn’t care; as long as one of them saw him and passed him another round, he’d tip them the moon.

Mitsukuni watched his friend wave to no one, the effect of one too many fireballs in the span of just two hours. He hadn’t seen Hikaru this hammered since college--and now, at 27, it just looked more like a cry for help than an occasion to let loose. And without Kaoru, who had already gone home with Kyoya and the rest of their friend group, on babysitting duty, Mitsukuni was the one left to make sure he got into a cab.

“A bird?” he asked, watching as Hikaru swung his head in confirmation.

“A bird.” A bartender came back with another shot, handing it to the redhead and giving Mitsukuni a questioning look. He waved at him, confirming he was the babysitter, and the waiter turned back around.

“Tell me about that.”

Hikaru gripped his cup, tonguing at the rim like a sippy cup. “It’s fluttering around, Honey. It’s--hiccup--like, moving. Whenever I see her or talk to her my heart just begins to pound.”

Mitsukuni bit back a smile. His vodka cran lay forgotten on the bar, but this experience was just too amusing to violate with alcohol. “And what do you think that means?”

“Means she’s gonna kill me.”

“Kill you?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why is that?”

Hikaru slurped the shot, spilling some down his chin, and Mitsukuni was fairly sure it was just plain water. “Because. She’s mean, senpai. She looks at me like she’s studying, like she’s gonna slice me in half. Like...I dunno. Like I mean something to her.”

Mistukuni twisted his wedding ring, inching closer to the discovery. He’s almost there, almost recognizing what the rest of the friend group has known for months. “And if you mean something to her, why does your heart flutter?”

“Acid reflux.”

“No, Hikaru.” He gently swatted the other man’s hand down before he could ask for another drink. “It sounds like the beginnings of love, to me.”

Hikaru gaped, not a thought behind those eyes, until it hit him like a wrecking ball. His fist fell to the bar, thudding, but he felt no pain. Only existential dread and a rocketing realization.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

If you like what I write, please considering buying a coffee :)

#ouran high school host club #hikaru x haruhi #hikaharu #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #enemies to lovers #ohshc

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theramseyloft · 4 years ago

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7/4/21 Loft Notes

Loft Notes:

Barron and Passenger seem to have become a thing.

Nobu tread Amiga

Creampuff and Artemis both jumped in my lap.

I have a lap Imp

Scan briefly came to see me.

Nettle's egg is fertile, making him officially a grown-ass man.

The cock currently highest on the list to retire is Pippin, for his flighty genes.

He has a home lined up, but just hatched a peep out of Lucy.

Once they wean, we'll bring him in and prepare to send him home.

Hmm...

On second thought, it might be better to retire Farthing.

Once Pippin is out of the picture, Farthing may try to woo Lucy.

And the Almond gene is homozygous lethal.

Patron: "Farthing doesn't seem particularly great at like, having children without you seeing him tread the hens though? it seems a bit of a shame to retire him on a possibility from an outside pov considering iirc you really liked his structure and mellow personality and yet his only contribution will end up being Lucy"

"if they pair up and you remove the eggs asap then the homozygous lethal problem will not happen as the fetus will not develop on time and he can then 100% be bumped up in the retirement list while you birth control them"

Patron: "I was just reading about what makes almond homozygous lethal and I can see the concern with almond being a dominant gene. Has he shown interest in Lucy? Beyond his usual I mean?"

Yes. The only reason he isn't after her presently is her clear preference for Pippin. While Pippin had Cookie, Lucy preferred Farthing.

Lucy is contribution enough, especially with so many young cocks about to come of age.

It isn't a low possibility that Farthing and Lucy will pair once Pippin is gone. It is practically a guarantee, with a minor chance that they won't.

On that, retiring Farthing is better for the flock.

I am very ill at the moment. I actually pulled this up to say that Bird-Bird's remains keep getting pulled out into the same place in the yard.

Not by an animal.

They aren't chewed.

Just lifted from where they were decomposing and set in the grass.

This has happened every few days since she died.

So this time, I gave her remains to the one hill of fire ants halfway across the yard that I maintain peace with.

Let's see the hateful fuckers dig her out now.

Patron: "Think its kids doing it?"

Humans, of what ever age.

If it's kids playing in my bushes that just don't want to deal with a gross thing, for one thing, why dig her up? But for the other, she isn't in the bushes anymore, so hopefully they'll leave her the fuck alone.

That corner of the holly is where especially loved pets of mine are burried.

So it's extremely upsetting that that site is now being dug up and disturbed.

Bluh.

The price of Royal Wing Classic Mix has gone up to $27.99 a bag.

Thaaaat's gonna suck.

We go through two of those bags a week.

Patron: "How much was it previously?"

$24.99 last week.

Patron: "That's nearly an extra bag of seed a month at the previous price"

Yeah, that's a significant jump.

Patron: "It adds up to a quarter of a year extra you're paying for"

wasn't it about this time last year that it jumped up from $19.99 to $24.99?

Patron: "it used to be 19.99????????? double oof. why is it increasing so much??"

Patron: "Have you considered buying feed from Chewy? the least expensive pigeon feed on there is $24.70. n shipping is free if you buy 2 or more bags. it seems like thats what all the racers do nowadays"

Patron: "Ya, I think at that price you should switch to Chewy. https://www.chewy.com/versele-laga-classic-pigeon-food/dp/259128"

Holy shit!

Shipping is the whole reason I wasn't getting that blend in the first place!

I wouldn't have to add the extra beans and safflowers!

Ordered for next week.

Patron: "Chewy has good customer service too. (In case you get a bag with weevils or something). They are very quick to send out a new one after chatting about any problems."

Today was Grocery Day.

We spent $17.27 at TSC on Perpethrine ($15.99) and tax ($1.28)

$60.46 at another TSC on 2 50lb bags of Royal Wing Classic Mix ($27.99 x 2) and tax ($4.48)

and $56.16 at Chewy.com on 2 50lb. bags of corn free Verse-Laga pigeon feed ($26 x 2) and tax ($4.16) Shipping was free.

Bringing our PayPal Balance to $329.38

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bohemian-nights · 1 year ago

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Favorite AU for Dettles?

Oh gosh, there are honestly so many great au ideas for them. I think my opinion on this fluctuates depending on my mood.

Right now though, because of the Hunger Games resurgence, I really like the idea of mentor Daemon with mentee Nettles.

Like, imagine he’s a bit disheartened by life in general. year after year seeing his mentees die takes its toll.

To top it off, he pulled some trick like Haymitch to win his games which landed him on the president's naughty list. His entire family(including his wife who was pregnant at the time) was murdered as a result. He’s pretty much checked out and self-medicating at this point.

Then Nettles games come along. Just by looking at her, he’s like She’s gonna die within the first couple of minutes if not by the end of the first day. She’s small for her age and clearly malnourished. She’s an orphan, a social pariah(lol she made an enemy which is why she got reaped in the first place), and she’s been crying ever since she’s gotten on the train to the capital.

Lol, the fact that Nettles’ story is already suited for the Hunger Games💀

Her male counterpart(Addam of Hull or Jace who is book!Jace not the wimpy show version) shows some promise. However, he's also very self-sacrificing. Daemon can easily see him trying to help out one of the weaker tributes early on in the games(like Nettles) and losing his life because of it.

He knows they both won’t last long. The career pack is going to make a meal of them if nothing else so why even bother with them?

The career pack includes Ulf and Hugh 🤣 Let’s just say they aren’t the smartest career pack which is partially why Nettles is able to win her games😏 I mean she has some skills, but they made it easier for her.

Addam(or Jace, IDK pick your poison) tries to interact with him and pick his brain, but he’s totally non-receptive. He’s rude and crass. He smells of booze and he keeps bringing up how they are going to die.

Addam: How do we get sponsors?

Daemon: You won’t need sponsors, you’ll be dead from helping her out(points to a crying Nettles who has almost reached her breaking point). There is no we in the arena. That was your first mistake.

Addam: 💀

Nettles:😭😡 I’m not dead yet you drunk🤬

By this point, Nettles has had enough. She understands that she’s not in the best shape. She knows what will happen if she can’t pull herself together. She understands that out of the twenty-four children reaped only one is walking out of there alive.

She knows she’s probably on the lower end of the pack and even though Addam admittedly has better odds than her he is unlikely to win, but she doesn’t want to die. She certainly doesn’t want to die without a fight.

While Daemon is in mid-rant telling Addam all the ways the careers can and will kill them she picks up a knife at her side.

It’s a small thing. A butter knife really. It won’t do much damage, but she doesn’t want it to do damage. She just wants him to stop it and be their mentor, and not see them just see them as if they were already buried six feet under.

So she chucks the knife at his head.

The knife ends up grazing his ear before sticking into the door behind him. A nearby avox flinches. Even Addam is freaking out when Daemon moves his hand up to his ear and pulls it back to reveal a bit of blood on his fingertips.

Nettles is too busy yelling at him to stop attacking like their lives mean nothing to really feel any fear, but he interrupts her when he starts laughing.

He looks her square in the eyes(she almost wants to look away but she holds her ground) and tells her that she needs to work on her aim. She tells him that her aim was fine and that if she meant to hurt him she would’ve aimed for something more vital which only causes him to laugh some more.

They both know that it’s a lie. Nettles did mean to get his attention, but she had not been aiming for him.

It’s not until then that he actually takes notice of her.

Nettles is very small. She needs to get some meat on her bones(he almost immediately starts pilling onto her plate food and telling her to eat). She could surely use some dressing up and training, but she’s not hopeless. She’s got gumption which is more than the tributes before her had.

It’s then that he realizes that the little runt girl just might make it out of this thing alive.

#he does all that he can to get her out alive after that #daemon and addam have a deal that the goal is to save nettles #dettles #bnask #bnasks #daemon targaryen x nettles #if anyone wants to steal this and write about it please do and tag me #I have too many fics as it is #don’t make me write this😭#daemonx nettles #nettles x daemon #dettles au: hunger games edition

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years ago

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The Gobbler II: The Witching Hour

Harringrove Big Bang 2021 is here!!! A huge thanks to @harringrovebigbang for organizing this! Also a huge thanks to my team, @monsdasarah and @catharrington, who did the art and moodboard, respectively.

But without further ado, here we go. The Gobbler II. Time to get cracky.

Steve wasn’t counting the days until the full moon. He wasn’t.

Fine, he was. He was thinking about Billy at pretty much every chance he got. Because, while the blow job had been fucking mind blowing, Billy was… Billy had insisted on them hanging out some, going over rules and such, as well as sharing emergency information should anything happen while Billy wasn’t in control. And Billy was funny. He was smart. He was an asshole.

Check, check, check. Each box for Steve’s Horny/Falling Deeply in Love list had been checked and Steve was struggling. He could deal with Billy being hot, a lot of people were hot, and Steve could get over that. Hell, he’d thought Robin was hot until she very kindly turned him down. But the problem was that Billy wasn’t just hot. Steve liked him. Liked him, liked him. Third grade schoolyard liked him. Because while Billy was snarky and rude and a total dick when he wanted to be, Steve could tell he had a good heart. He saw it in the care Billy took with him regarding everything with The Gobbler. Saw it when Billy mentioned his sister and his eyes softened, even if he called her a shitbird. Hell, Steve watched Billy step over an ant hill instead of on it and his knees went weak.

He was fucked and he knew it.

“I still don’t know,” Robin said, brow furrowed with worry. Steve was finishing up the garlands she needed, weaving together the hay and wheat so flowers could be intertwined safely without fear of them falling out. He sighed and set down the garland before stretching out his fingers.

“Robin--”

“I know, I know,” she said, cutting him off with a sigh as she paced back and forth in the living room while he worked. “But I don’t fucking trust him! And while I’m glad you won’t be traversing the woods--” She cut herself off, eyes narrowing. “You’re both staying inside, yeah? You’re not planning on going looking for it are you?” Steve rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t going to look for The Gobbler in the woods. We won’t even look at the woods.” Steve felt bad, just a bit, when Robin visibly calmed from the reaffirmation, though she did continue to pace. He knew she was just worried about him, but still. He did know what he was doing. Mostly. Enough. Steve stood and wiped off his hands before halting her movements by pulling her into a hug. “I know you’re worried,” he mumbled into her hair. He pulled back, giving her a smile. “But seriously. It’s gonna be okay. I know you don’t trust him, but do you trust me?” Robin scoffed, rolling her eyes a little with a small, fond smile. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

“I was gonna say,” she replied with a smirk. “You don’t exactly have the best track record.” She let out a sigh, enough nervous energy finally leaving her body for her to plop onto the couch. “But I get it. I know you won’t let him do anything you don’t like, but I just… Something is… off.” She shook her head as Steve looked away, choosing to go back to finishing the garland instead of responding. Robin was right, and while Steve wasn’t a bad liar by any means, she knew him too well. Robin looked. She listened. She saw his nervous tics and heard the words he didn’t say. So instead, he said nothing and finished the garland as she checked through her notebook and made sure everything was accounted for.

By the time Steve finished, Robin was done packing up the rest of her things.

“Hope tonight goes well,” Steve said, giving her another quick, firm hug as they stood in the doorway. He pulled back, grinning wide. “Say hi to Heather for me,” he said sweetly, getting a shove from Robin as her face turned red.

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “Shut up!” Still, she smiled, and gave Steve a softer, more playful shove. “Have a good night. Don’t stink up the house with your boy fumes.” Steve snorted and shook his head.

“Billy and I both smell great, thank you.” Robin rolled her eyes and headed out, hopping onto her bike and waving one last time as she rode off. Steve waved until he could no longer see her, sighing happily as he went back in the house. It was only a moment however before he kicked it into overdrive. Steve ran to the living room, shoving everything away. He wanted things to be clean and ready, anything breakable moved out of the way. He had no idea how the night was going to pan out, no idea if Billy would even go for him again. How did the curse even work? Would he need a different dick every month? Would their plan even work?

Steve decided that he didn’t care. That they would figure it out. That he would figure this out, no matter what. Billy acted cool and unbothered, but it was obvious that this curse made him… Unhappy wasn’t the right word, but neither was disgusted. Uncomfortable, maybe? Steve could work it out later; right now, he needed to focus on getting the house Gobbler proofed.

Steve was up and out of his seat in record time when he heard the doorbell ring. He had to stop himself in the entryway and take a few deep breaths. It was probably weird how excited he was. How much he wanted this. But, Steve had a crush, a big one, and he was known to have poor judgement when he was into someone. Steve ran his hand through his hair before finally opening the door.

“I was wondering if you were gonna stand there forever or let me in,” Billy joked as he stepped into the house and brushed Steve’s shoulder with his. Steve flushed as he remembered the stained glass window in the front door, where Billy probably saw him run up and stop. He swallowed his embarrassment and followed Billy to the living room. While he had been over a few times, they usually had met up at Billy’s place. Robin’s distrust of Billy made him nervous, put him on edge, so he didn’t like coming to Steve’s often. Which sucked. But today Billy was here. He was here and he was standing in Steve’s living room, looking around with a small smile. “You and Buckley decorate like fucking grandmas,” he said, turning to give Steve a teasing smile, tongue caught between his teeth. It made Steve’s heart stutter.

Yeah, he was royally fucked. This was probably the worst idea he’d ever had.

He was still gonna do it.

“You should do an open mic, really, with all those zingers,” Steve replied. Billy cackled and Steve smirked back. “C’mon. We can come back down here to order pizza and put on something, but I, uh,” he faltered, turning a little red. “I figure you can put your bag in my room?” His nerves made it sound like a question, but he wasn’t the only one feeling a little funny about it, since Billy also went red. He blushed down his neck and Steve wondered how far down it went. To his collarbone? His nips? Steve cleared his throat and gestured to the stairs, leading Billy up silently.

“It’s a nice house,” Billy said quietly, breaking through the tension. “Grandma accents aside.” Steve snorted and opened the door to his room, suddenly anxious for Billy to like it. He had plants on plants, pots on every shelf, every nook, every cranny. Herbs lined his window sill, along with a few succulents. Steve loved plants. Loved the energy they brought. His parents had hated how he had loved to be in the dirt, to feel the magic of earth and nurse it, keep it thriving and strong. They were white magic users, full of spectacle and grace. Steve, well, wasn’t.

The rest of his room was somewhat bland, lots of greens and blues, the wood of his bed frame and desk a nice light brown. Billy looked around, eyes a little wide, setting his bag on Steve’s made bed. His room was cluttered, but organized, and Billy seemed amused at all the little knick knacks Steve had.

“Wow,” Billy breathed. “I don’t know why but I expected more plaid.”

“I don’t know whether to take offense to that or not,” Steve replied with a grin. Billy shrugged, his smile easy going.

“Your choice.” Billy went to the window, looking out at the garden in the backyard. “I’m gonna assume you’re the one who did the garden too?” Steve joined him by the window, looking down.

“Kind of. I do a lot of the gardening, but Robin helps a lot. We like to have native species of plants, and I hate nettles, so she’s the one who deals with them.” It was nice, talking to Billy. He seemed genuinely curious to know Steve and he hadn’t had anyone this interested in him since school, when he still reaped the benefits that came from his last name.

“Native species?” Billy asked, turning to Steve.

“Oh, I could go on for hours, you don’t want--” Steve began, face flushing.

“Dude,” Billy said, huffing slightly as he turned to face Steve more. “I like hearing what you have to say, okay? You don’t gotta censor yourself for me.” And there it was. The soft nougaty bit of Billy Hargrove that made Steve feel soft and squishy and seen.

“Well, why don’t we order the pizza and then we can talk?” Steve asked. He wanted to get out of his room before he shoved Billy onto the bed here and now. Steve had an inkling that Billy felt the same, but he was incredibly nervous that he was just reading too much into the situation. So instead of facing his feelings like an adult, Steve turned and headed downstairs, hearing Billy’s heavier footsteps behind him. He grabbed the phone out of the cradle, punching in the phone number for the best pizza place in town. “What do you like on your pizza?”

“Pineapple and onion. I can do ham or no ham.” Billy said it casually, like he hadn’t just spouted out the most disgusting combo Steve had ever heard.

“Oh, dude, I dunno. That’s crossing a damn line--” Steve began, aghast at the idea of pineapple on pizza, much less paired with onion.

“It’s good!” Billy protested with a pout. “Listen, order a medium one and then whatever your dainty tastebuds want. You’re gonna try it and I know you’re gonna like it.” Steve gave him a blank look, unimpressed and unconvinced. Billy just crossed his arms and raised a brow, tilting his head. Steve sighed and when Benny picked up the phone, he ordered.

When the pizzas arrived (pineapple and onion for Billy, while Steve got the olives and green peppers), Billy sat Steve down on the couch, handed him a slice, and sat on the coffee table, staring intently. Steve eyed the pizza, then Billy, then the pizza again.

“Trust me,” Billy said. “It’s good.” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically before daintily going in for a bite. “That’s a fucking nibble, get some of all of it, asshole.” Steve shot Billy an exasperated look, but he did take a real bite. And… Fuck. That smug asshole was right. The acidity and tart sweetness of the pineapple paired well with the sweet onion and the acidity of the tomato sauce. It was savory and sweet, with some good crunch, and Steve couldn’t help his surprised groan, staring at the pizza in shock. Billy made a choked noise and Steve looked at him, eyes wide.

“It is good,” Steve replied, taking another bite. Billy’s face was flushed, but Steve didn’t pay much attention, snarfing up his slice quickly.

“Told you,” Billy said, grin wide and proud. “It’s good shit. I know my food, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said through his mouthful of pizza. “You win this one, Blue.” At that, Billy paused, giving Steve a confused but curious look.

“Blue?” Steve blushed and realized he’d never actually said that nickname out loud before. Not in real life, at least.

“Yeah, uh, like your uh, your eyes,” Steve stammered out. Billy looked at him, silent, looking torn about something. Finally, his face settled and he snorted, shaking his head.

“Should I call you Brown?” Billy asked, snatching up a slice for himself. Steve fake gagged.

“Oh god no, please don’t.”

“Sure thing, Brown Eyes.”

“Billy, I literally said--”

“You said not to call you Brown. This is different.” Steve groaned while Billy smirked around the string of cheese connecting his lips to the pizza. They continued to joke around while they ate, Billy flinging the olives off his slices, like they had personally offended him. Eventually though, it was starting to get dark. Steve could see the tension and stress building inside Billy as the night went forward, inching closer and closer to the peak of the moon.

“Do you know when it’ll happen?” Steve asked. The pizza boxes had been broken down and put into the compost bin, all the leftovers wrapped in foil and put away. The sun had set and the only light in the house was from the multiple lamps Steve had. Billy had been subdued for the last hour, getting lost in his head. Steve knew because he did the same thing. “Just, like, is it a set time or does it depend on the season?”

“9 PM,” Billy replied softly, his earlier mirth replaced with concern and anxiety. “You don’t have to do this. You really don’t.” They’d had this talk multiple times, but Steve could see the weight on Billy’s shoulders. He knew how it felt to feel like a burden, so he reached out and took Billy’s hand.

“Maybe we met in some weird ways, but you’re my friend.” Billy looked at him, eyes shining a bit. “I wanna help you with this, and if we have a way to keep you inside and distracted all night? Why wouldn’t we?”

“But--”

“You aren’t forcing me into anything, Billy. This is a choice I am making. Clear headed and sure.” Billy visibly relaxed, sagging a little. Steve kept hold of Billy’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You wanna go up to my room?” Billy went red at that, flushing down his neck again.

“Yeah.” They walked up in relative silence, tension creeping again, but this time it was different. Steve felt electricity on his skin, felt heat curl in his belly. Billy sat on the edge of Steve’s bed, already looking out of it. “You can strip and leave your clothes on the dresser if you want,” Steve suggested. Billy just nodded, standing up. He stripped slowly, turning his back to Steve like they weren’t about to have sex. Still, Steve let Billy have his privacy. He did catch a glimpse of Billy’s ass, toned and tight, and he licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and sticky.

“Thank you,” Billy whispered, and if it hadn’t been so quiet in the room, Steve wasn’t sure he would have heard him. Steve nodded, reaching behind him to find Billy’s hand and squeeze. There was a sharp intake of breath and a squeeze back. Looking back at the clock on his nightstand it said 8:59. Steve very suddenly was hit with the vivid memory of his torn jeans last time, and he scrambled to get out of his clothes.

“Shit!” Steve hissed. “God damn it!” He was nearly tripping out of his pants when he heard a low growl start from behind him. He paused, hairs standing on end in anticipation. He knew it was Billy but there was something so different about the timber of the noise. Steve turned to look behind him and Billy was standing there, head hung, hair gone limp, staring at Steve from under his brow. It sent a shiver through Steve, right to his dick. “Hey there,” he said, voice shaky. The Gobbler staggered forward, looking out of depth in these surroundings.

“Schm...eat…?” Steve let out a puff of breath, nervous laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Schmeat,” Steve replied with a nod. It was like flipping a switch. One moment, he was Billy, nervous and and ansty, the next, he was The Gobbler. It showed in the way he seemed to have a singular drive, a singular purpose. The way he heard Steve’s confirmation and everything else seemed to leave The Gobbler’s mind except getting Steve laid out. Strong arms hoisted him up and Steve let out a small squeak of air. “The bed! Put me on the bed!” He said, since The Gobbler was eyeing the window. He landed on the mattress with an oof, looking up as The Gobbler crawled on top of him. It was quick, a blink and he was above Steve.

“Schmeat. Hole.” Steve’s brows shot up.

“Hole? I thought you just sucked?” Did Billy-- The Gobbler wanna fuck him? Like, he definitely wasn’t against that, but he thought Billy had mentioned it was more an oral craving that anything else. The Gobbler growled again, moving down to nose at Steve’s balls. “Oh, shit,” Steve gasped. That was fast. He could feel drool dripping onto his groin and, while he was already getting hard, the process went a little quicker at the feeling.

“Hole,” The Gobbler repeated, more insistent this time.

“Okay?” Steve replied, because he really didn’t--

And then he was suddenly flipped over, face down, ass up, with his cheeks spread, saliva dripping down his crack.

“Oh,” Steve gasped. That’s what he meant. The warm spit cooled in the air of the room, sending a shudder up Steve’s spine. He grunted, arching his back a little. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed out. It ended in a choked off stutter when he felt a wet, hot tongue drag itself over his hole. He could feel the rumble as The Gobbler growled once again, this one less aggressive and more lustful. “That all big guy?” Steve teased, honestly a little desperate to feel more. “C’mon, go at--” Steve cried out when he felt lips against his hole, sucking the skin. “Ohmygodohmygod,” Steve chanted, suddenly painfully erect. He hadn’t been expecting that at all and holy shit did it feel good.

Steve’s reactions were paid no mind as The Gobbler pressed his face into Steve’s ass, a low moan rumbling from his chest. He was salivating, spit already dribbling down Steve’s taint to his balls. He sucked at Steve’s hole, leaving a hickey just to the right of it. Steve keened, dick already starting to leak. Apparently, they weren’t wasting any time today. The Gobbler slurped up his drool, lapping at Steve’s hole, which was already starting to look red and puffy. Steve gripped the sheets, holding on for the ride as The Gobbler’s tongue started making long broad strokes up his crack. Each lick was hot and wet and left Steve shaking. He could feel sweat beading at his temples and on his back. There was a grunt and Steve’s hips were shifted, ass tilted up more. The sting of the burn from the mustache grazing across his skin paired so perfectly with the soft velvet of the tongue soothing over it. Steve’s mind was already fogging over, eyes going a little hazy.

“Shit,” he murmured into his pillow, each stroke of the tongue pulling tiny gasps and moans from him. The sounds alone drove him wild and Steve wished he could grab his dick and stroke, but honestly he had no idea if he would be allowed. Wondered too if he could cum just from this. It was looking quite likely. Especially as The Gobbler started wiggling his tongue inside him, licking into his hole desperately. Steve was loosening up, but apparently it wasn’t enough, seeing as there was a whine from behind him and a nose pushing even harder into his crack. The wiggling was teasing and light, a steady pressure that was driving Steve a little mad. He pushed back, a whimper escaping his lips and fuck, there. He could feel the tongue wiggle in just a little farther as he pushed back, getting another moan from behind him. “Yeah, yeah, fuck,” Steve moaned, starting to steadily roll his hips back against The Gobbler’s face. The hands on his cheeks gripped a little tighter, maybe even enough to bruise. Steve selfishly hoped so.

The Gobbler began to fuck Steve with his tongue, each thrust opening Steve up more and more. He could feel spit dribbling down his crack, down his balls, dripping onto the sheets. His dick was hard, so fucking hard, and Steve tilted his head to look down. There were tiny globs and strings of pre coming from his cock, leaving a small growing stain on the sheets as well. Steve was definitely gonna have to do some laundry after this.

With harsh, heavy breaths, The Gobbler finally pulled back. Already Steve had a poor sense of time, and with his brain steadily melting into a pile of warm, blissed out goo, he had no idea how long The Gobbler had been eating his ass. Like it was his last meal and he was a starving man. Steve couldn’t help the desperate whine that escaped his throat, or the way his ass pushed back, seeking that hot tongue. He jerked when there was cool air blown onto his hole. The Gobbler switched between blowing on the cooling spit dripping down Steve’s taint and his now red and loose asshole. It made Steve shake, made his thighs tremble as sounds were pulled out from deep inside his chest ah, ah, ah. It had him gritting his teeth and clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. Teeth grazed along the meat of his ass, gently nipping at the skin and making Steve jerk forward with each light sting of teeth. The Gobbler started to suck, marking up Steve’s ass with his mouth like he didn’t know any other way to do it.

Not that Steve was complaining. Like, at all. His ass was probably gonna give him plenty of trouble tomorrow, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. Not when this felt so good. He gasped, sweat dripping down his face and onto the pillow below him as The Gobbler dove in again. Steve’s hands twisted in the sheets, moans practically leaking from his throat at the tongue wiggling it’s way into his asshole again. He was so loose, and just from his tongue. Even the thought made him shudder as more precome leaked from his dick, adding to the stain already spreading on the sheets. When The Gobbler pulled away for air, Steve could feel his asshole flutter, desperate for something to fill it again. He actually yelled when suddenly there was a finger pushing into him. It paused, hesitant, and Steve pushed back against it, hips moving as he fucked himself. A glob of spit slid down his crack and the finger pushed it inside him.

“Oh god,” Steve cried out, feeling his balls start to tighten. “Oh god, oh god, oh god--” And suddenly a hand clamped around the base of his dick, keeping him from cumming. Steve whined, loud and long, starting to turn over and push himself up.

“Mine!” The Gobbler snarled and pressed against his back, pushing him down into the mattress. Steve inhaled sharply as his finger shoved in farther, curling it up as he pulled it out.

“Fuck!” Steve screamed, unable to cum but feeling so fucking desperate. “B-Billy! Please!” He didn’t even really register that he’d called him Billy. Didn’t feel the desperation in the way the second finger pushed in, a little early. But Steve just made a low sound of pleasure, relishing in the burn of the stretch. It was the perfect amount to accentuate the pleasure without overpowering it.

The Gobbler panted into Steve’s ear and he could feel the drool dripping down onto the junction of his neck and shoulder. It shouldn’t have been so hot. Steve shuddered, feeling The Gobbler’s erection grazing against his ass cheek. He wanted it at least between his cheeks if it wasn’t gonna go inside. But The Gobbler didn’t even seem concerned with his own erection, just with touching Steve. He mouthed at Steve’s neck and between his shoulder blades, fingering Steve slowly. The tenderness of the kisses and the changed pace altered the feeling completely, and suddenly it was intimate. The pads of The Gobbler’s fingers massaged his prostate and Steve’s back arched. His hair was nearly wet with sweat, the whole room reeking of musk and sex. Goosebumps pebbled his skin as a shock went through him, the world focused to the sheets below him and Billy, The Gobbler, pressed up close behind him. The Gobbler took his fingers out slowly, pulling back. Steve whined, arm reaching out behind him. But instead, hands grabbed his hips and helped turn him over.

Hair splayed out around him, sheets mussed and wrinkled from being twisted and wrenched tight in his fists, Steve lay there, gazing up at The Gobbler. He hovered above him, hair draping down and shadowing his face. Still, his eyes shone bright, staring into Steve’s so intensely it made his dick leak. It was angry and red, throbbing as it bobbed, nothing giving him enough satisfaction to come. The Gobbler grinned, ducking down to suck one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth. Steve arched into it, hand gripping the back of his head. The Gobbler groaned, low and rumbling, hips rolling and his hard cock smeared pre along the vee of Steve’s hips. Steve was mush. Utter mush. His face was flushed and his eyes were glazed as The Gobbler went down, down, down and finally took Steve’s aching dick into his mouth. With one hard, wet suck, The Gobbler’s head bobbing only one time, Steve came with a shout that stuttered into silence. He came so hard his vision went white for a second. The Gobbler swallowed around him, drool mixed with jizz leaking from the corners of his mouth as he humped the sheets, fast and ruthless. Steve’s toes curled and his legs spasmed, knees tightening around The Gobbler’s ribs.

There was a loud slurp and a smack as The Gobbler pulled off Steve’s dick, letting it flop onto his groin, wet, shiny and softening. He swallowed audibly, letting out a moan as he came into the sheets, damp with sweat and drool. Steve watched him through half lidded eyes, watching as Billy blinked away the remains of The Gobbler. Steve smiled as his favorite pair of blue eyes turned to him, staring at him in awe. He wasn’t sure what other emotions he was seeing; he was too tired to discern much.

“You have got one hell of a tongue,” Steve slurred out. Billy continued to stare at him, eyes wide.

“You… You said my name,” he stammered out. Steve blinked at him, honestly drained and finding it hard to figure out just what Billy meant. And then, as sleep overtook him, it clicked. Fuck.

Steve woke up with a jolt and a sharp inhale. He blinked, looking out his window where the sky was still dark. He sat up, already starting to feel how sore his ass was. Billy must have gone ham on the biting and stubble rubbing, because he felt kinda raw. A good raw though, something that made him smile a bit at each tiny twing.

Then Steve remembered that he had actually shown his whole ass by moaning Billy’s name and a chill went down his spine. Billy wasn’t in the room, wasn’t on the bed, but Steve saw that his jeans were still on the floor, and it made him relax a bit. He got up, tossing on an old shirt and some sweats, before making his way downstairs quietly. The clock read 4:45, so Steve had definitely conked out deeply after he came. Billy wasn’t in the kitchen, but when Steve went into the living room, he saw Billy sitting by the window in the large armchair. He was resting his chin on his fist, just staring at the forest behind the house, lost in his thoughts. He had a glass of water on the table next to him, and didn’t look upset, so Steve took that as a good sign to start. He was quiet as he walked closer, pausing when Billy sighed heavily.

“I can hear you thinking from there, Steve,” Billy said quietly, without any heat.

“Sorry,” Steve replied on reflex. He sat down on the couch, watching as Billy continued to gaze out the window. “I--”

“Why did you say my name,” Billy asked, voice quiet and unsure. Steve looked down at his hands, pulling and tugging at each other as he wrung them together. He didn’t know quite what to say. It would have been weird to call out Gobbler, but he knew what Billy meant. In fact, was kinda shocked he even remembered.

“I… I mean, it won’t change my answer either way, and I don’t mean it as like-- Fuck,” Steve grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “How do you remember that? I thought--”

“I get… Bits. Not everything. I’m able to remember small things and feelings and small clips, but mostly it’s hazy. I can’t piece it all together. But,” Billy took a breath, deep and bracing. “I didn’t imagine that part, did I?” His voice was calm and unannoyed, but Steve still felt his stomach wriggling around inside him.

“No. You didn’t. I… Billy, I’m selfish,” Steve began, words coming out on a shaky breath. But this needed to be said. And he needed to apologize. “The first time this happened I mean… I hadn’t gotten laid in ages and you were hot and so it worked out. But this… time I--”

“Steve--” Billy said, voice laced with hurt and curiosity.

“Please,” Steve got out, cutting Billy off. “Let me. Let me say it all and then we can. We can talk.” Steve sniffed, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs. “This past month getting to know you has been so incredible. You’re a smart guy, just enough of an asshole, and you… You listen to me. And you care. The first thing you were concerned about last month was me, even though you’re under a spell forced to do a bunch of weird shit! Me! You were concerned about me!” Steve could feel Billy watching him, but eye contact would make his throat close up and maybe make him vomit, so he kept them at the table. “I know we don’t know each other super well -- I mean, it’s only been a month -- but I… You’re an interesting person and I fucking like you. I like you so much, Billy. All of you. Seriously.” Steve let out a long breath, closing his eyes to focus on getting the lump in his throat small enough that he could talk. “You need someone to help you and I… I’m too selfish to say no, even though I should because you--”

“Fucking christ, Steve,” Billy said, voice closer than it should be. Steve’s head snapped up and Billy was across the coffee table, leaning forward and bracing himself as he gazed at Steve. He didn’t look mad, didn’t look annoyed. Looked more fond than anything else and Steve felt his stomach do flips that were more along the neutral vein than flips that felt like he was about to start weeping. “You gotta let me get a word in.” Steve looked away again, apology ready to tumble from his lips, but Billy’s hand came and tilted his chin up, making him lose all ability to form thoughts, much less words. “Just to, yanno, condense all that, you said my name because you… you wanted it to be me?” Steve nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up. But when Billy smiled, relieved and excited and hopeful… It was so bright and overwhelming, Steve’s heart started fluttering, all of his insides squirming in joy and delight. “I’ve been so fucking worried. Because I really thought you were just… Humoring me. That this was you feeling like you maybe had to, or just to get some dick while you could--”

“I would never--” Steve began, horrified at the idea of using this against Billy.

“I know,” Billy replied gently, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone. “I know. It’s happened enough before I was worried I was being swayed into some false sense of security, but,” Billy let out a huffy laugh, smile going soft, “But this is just you. You’re just like this.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, unable to raise his voice above a whisper as he looked at Billy. Took in everything about him in the soft light of the moon. There was a shift in the air, something beautiful and new coming into fruition. Magic fluttered around them, Steve could feel it, bright and eager. It made the house feel warmer, feel fuller, and Steve’s breaths started coming in a little heavier. It took more energy to pull it in, but it was filling and exciting, making his skin tingle and thrum. His fingers itched to run over Billy’s skin. Which, come to think of it, he could do.

“Kind. Good. Silly.” Billy listed, pupils dilating as he moved around the coffee table, hand never leaving Steve’s face. Steve was grateful, unsure he could handle the feeling of loss if Billy had stopped touching him. As Billy sat, Steve’s hand came to settle at the small of Billy’s back, fire sparking in his gut and heart as their skin touched. Billy’s breath came in shaky, stuttering, and Steve leaned closer, their foreheads touching. “When you’re as hot as I am,” and some of the tensions eased at that, a snort escaping Steve before he could stop it, the magic shifting from something waiting for a spark to something more grounded. The feeling of hearth and home. “Yeah yeah,” Billy replied with a grin, “I know, I know. But really. People… Don’t see the person behind the abs.” It was silly, but Steve understood what he meant. Understood the struggle of people not just being blind to the person inside the body, but refusing to look beyond what they saw. “So thank you. For not being like everyone else.” Billy kissed him then and--

Steve was a witch, had been born into magic and felt it thrumming inside him. He’d been open to magic all his life, had felt the shift in magic during the change of the seasons, had done spells that had filled the room with power. Steve had seen amazing feats and more, but this kiss sent something through him. Something strong and vibrant and like nothing he’d ever felt. A crashing wave of signals and comments from the Earth and the magic within. He was overwhelmed with everything that coursed through him from the chaste kiss, hand pressing Billy closer as he tilted his head, mouth opening slowly. The kiss wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t hot and heavy. But it made Steve’s skin prickle with goosebumps, made his heart race and his lungs squeeze. He pressed closer, feeling Billy’s hand drop from his cheek to his shoulder, thumb brushing over his collar bone. It was a languid kiss, drawn out between a drag of the tongue, a light bite, the shared breaths between them.

When Billy finally pulled back, Steve knew his cheeks were flushed and he was panting just a little. It would have been embarrassing if Billy wasn’t also blushing, all the way down to his chest.

“I think,” Steve said, trying to catch his breath. “I think that we should go on a real date.” Billy’s laugh was bright in response, his head falling to rest at the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder.

“Of course,” he breathed out. “Of course that’s what you’d say first.” Before Steve could even pretend to be offended, Billy kissed his neck, soft and sweet, his mustache dragging along Steve’s skin just a bit. “I’d love that. I’d love that a lot. But maybe we should get some sleep first, Brown Eyes.” Steve could feel the energy draining out of Billy now that the air had been cleared, and sleep started to tug at him as well. Even as he rolled his eyes at Billy’s simple nickname. However, he would have been lying had he said it didn’t thrill him and make his insides flutter.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Steve said in agreement. They moved together, hands still grabbing gently at each other, both of them unable to separate for long, if at all. It was like the truth had magnetized them and they just couldn’t fight the need to connect. They fell into the bed, smiling and warm and excited, ready for what this change would do for them.

As much as Steve wanted a languid morning filled with slow kisses and gentle touches in the lazy morning sun, Billy had places to be. Specifically, helping his sister Max.

“She’s moving in with her boyfriend, finally,” Billy replied when Steve asked, mouth full of egg and toast. It should have been gross, but Steve only found it endearing. “I won’t say I think it’s their best idea, but they’re at least keeping separate rooms. I know Max needs her own space.” Steve nodded, using the corner of his toast to burst the yolk of his fried egg.

“It’s good of you to help out,” Steve said, dipping his toast into the yolk as he cut through the egg with the edge of his fork.

“More like it’s required because I missed helping her move into her last place. Not like I was fucking sick or anything.” He set down his fork, plate already clean, before downing the coffee in the mug before him. “Sorry to eat and go, I would really rather stay here and--”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Steve said with a chuckle. He was also eager to talk more about them, but promises made were promises kept. “We have plenty of time, yeah? I mean, you can always come back here later,” Steve purred, thrilling a bit when Billy’s cheeks flushed.

“Don’t tempt me or I won’t leave,” Billy said, standing and leaning down to cup Steve’s cheek, kissing him lightly.

“That a promise?” They were distracted by the door opening, separating slowly. Robin came in as Billy was leaving the kitchen, both of them awkwardly giving the other space while pretending they weren’t doing just that. “How’d it go?”

“We’ll see this winter,” Robin replied, snatching the last bit of his egg between her fingers and quickly shoving it into her mouth.

“Hey!”

“Snooze you lose, dingus,” she said with a grin. “Last night go...okay? Anything happen?” She searched his eyes for any hint of deception and, for once, Steve wasn’t really worried about what she’d find.

“Kind of?” Steve said, mouth tugging into a smile. Robin furrowed her brow. “Nothing bad, seriously, all good things.”

“Steve?” Billy asked, knocking on the door frame. Steve stood and went over, leaning in close. “I gotta head out, but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Sounds good, Blue,” Steve replied. Billy just smiled, eyes darting to Robin for a moment before he ducked in for a kiss.

“Catch ya later, Brown Eyes,” Billy replied as he headed out the door. Steve rolle dhis eyes, but really couldn’t help the smile on his face. Billy left with a wave and wink, disappearing into his car, and leaving Steve feeling smitten on the doorstep. He watched Billy’s car go, jumping when Robin’s voice came from right behind him.

“So that’s what happened, huh?” She asked, voice lightly amused. Steve blushed and shut the door, turning to give her a sheepish look.

“I did say it wasn’t bad.” When Robin didn’t reply with a quip, Steve paused, smile freezing on his face. “Rob?”

“I’m happy for you, Steve, really, I am,” she said, and Steve could hear the ‘but…’ coming from a mile away. “But I still think you need to be careful.”

“Robin, please--”

“It’s not about me trusting him this time.” Steve looked up at that, curious. “It’s because… Steve. I’ve only seen you this smitten with one other person in my life, and that was Nancy.” That. That made Steve freeze. He’d loved Nancy fiercely, too fiercely, and had been utterly smashed when she’d broken it off. Had been depressed for months. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Oh.” Steve wasn’t sure how to respond. Because he didn’t think he was that attached yet. Even if the idea of never talking to Billy again made it hard to breathe and made his lungs tighten and made his eyes water--

Oh fuck, Steve thought.

#stranger things #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #harringrove big bang 2021 #crack #fluff #some angst i guess #gotta get it all in there #lemon #like if u don't like it sour this will not be for u lmao #harringrove

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

Text

Childhood: a Kohrin oneshot

Summary: Two teenagers sneak off one night to the beach, reflecting on their pasts. Despite the grim subject, Rin somehow always manages to make him smile. Kohaku x Rin oneshot

3,000 words

Childhood

Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over her sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping her warm. These are all the things Rin chose to remember about childhood.

She remembered and kept them close, especially at night, gliding through memories masquerading as dreams.

In the years after travelling with the stoic lord and staying with Kaede at her village, her limbs had changed- becoming gangly, form lean and growing with burgeoning maturity. She'd adapted to her environment, forming strong friendships with her mentor and the Inutachi. However, despite her days being spent in quiet happiness, she couldn't help but notice a few things. A perpetual absence. A certain searching look in Sango's eyes whenever she glanced up from monitoring her three children to stare off into the trees.

Tossing and turning beneath the covers, Rin frowned in her sleep.

One person who remained elusive in both her dreams and the waking world was-

A crooning noise startled her upright, brown eyes flying wide. Stumbling from her futon and hurrying from Kaede's hut, she peered out into the night inquisitively.

From within the forest, she could see a faint orange glow peeking out between the trees. Tightening her sleeping yukata around her, Rin's lips pursed. She then stubbornly sought out the glow, bare feet padding over cool dirt.

She found him, as predicted, watching Sango's hut.

Kohaku stood, a little further along into his maturity than her. Even the dense shadows couldn't quite hide the changes in his height and features. Rin stopped the second he caught notice of her- a telltale wariness gripping him a moment before recognition painted his face.

"Rin," he said with relief, tone soon slipping into a resigned reprimand. "What're you doing out so late? You should be asleep."

"So should you," she smiled easily, rocking on her heels. She gave a wave to Kirara, who hopped onto Kohaku's shoulder after transforming into a small version of herself and mewling. "It's a strange hour for you to come back. Sango won't be able to greet you with a lively smile-" lively chatter broke off the second she noticed the older boy direct his gaze to his feet. "Oh… unless… you don't plan on staying long?" Rin murmured. Again.

For some reason, it was always the same with him. Lord Sesshoumaru's brief visits didn't bother her in the least. He barely had a connection to the village. But Kohaku? He should've been there, stayed there. She knew Sango missed him terribly but he barely made time to visit.

However, she didn't voice any of this. She'd done so before, and Sango's assurances never seemed to help him. Guilt continued to gnaw like an infected wound at her friend.

Rin observed his freckled face in the torch light, seeing the emotions swimming within vibrant brown eyes.

"You know I would if I could. But…" the silence of the forest swallowed up the remainder of what he wanted to say. Rin shifted her bare feet, drawing closer and taking his coarse, demon-slaying hand.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Huh?"

"I want to go to the beach," she said decisively, as though he had no say in the matter. Kohaku supposed he didn't when she got like this. "Come on, Kaede says the ocean air is good for you. Hurry, before everyone wakes up," Rin tugged on his hand.

Kohaku smiled slightly, giving in far too easily.

---

Kirara touched down on sandy shores an hour later, allowing them to slide off her back. Rin stretched and sucked in a long breath of salty sea air.

"Ahh! Now isn't that better?" she grinned.

Kohaku snorted and smiled good-naturedly, looking out at the black sea with a quiet, observing look. "I haven't been to the beach in a long time."

"Why not?"

Kohaku wandered out, boots crunching on pebbles until they were cushioned by sand, leaving moonlit footprints. "I want to say I haven't had time, but that's not true," he chuckled. "It just hasn't occurred to me to go. That I'd enjoy it."

At 16, Rin still didn't feel old enough nor wise enough to understand everything. She wasn't a firecracker like Kagome had been around her age, and she didn't see herself as a warrior like Sango. However, there were some things Rin knew how to do.

Following, Rin took his hand in passing, tugging to ensure he'd stumble after her. She walked right up to the shoreline, drinking in the dark, hushed atmosphere only broken by the sound of waves crashing against rocks.

"Take off your boots."

Kohaku blinked, raising a brow. His lips quirked, "you sure are bossy today."

Giggling, she wriggled bare toes into the sand- squealing when the cool tide rushed in and splashed about her ankles before drawing back. "You used to walk around barefoot all the time, just like me."

"When I was a kid," he reminded her.

"Are you implying something?" Rin huffed. "I'll tell Uncle Inuyasha you said that."

"No, I wasn't trying to say-" his hasty words cut off, noting her mischievous expression. Kohaku smiled and leaned down as though to take off his boots- suddenly thrusting his hands into the surf and splashing her.

Shrieking and gasping, Rin gaped with surprise- soon grinning viciously wide and leaping towards him. Kohaku quickly dodged. He began running, hotly pursued by the petite young woman. An unexpected noise rang out into the night. Boyish, happy laughter.

Earthy brown eyes widened and even as Rin sprinted, panting, she drank in the sound of Kohaku laughing. How strange, rare and wonderful it was.

Running fast and putting all her energy into her legs, Rin leapt at his back. Catching him around the middle, she collided hard against him.

With an undignified yelp from a demon slayer, Kohaku lost his footing, toppling gracelessly to the ground, kicking up sand. Giggling breathlessly, Rin spat some from her mouth and lifted her head.

"You went down easy. Are you sure you slay demons?" she teased, nestling against the warmth of his back.

Kohaku shifted, shaking sand from his ponytail and adjusting their positions so that they were facing each other, laying on their sides. He wiped his face, expression clearly trying to remain unaffected and firm- but breaking into a tender smile.

"You always do this," he mused quietly.

"Hm? I don't think I've ever tackled you into the sand before," Rin felt fairly confident about that.

"That's not what I mean, it's just that you always make me feel... something different. Something good."

"But we had that argument about how best to stew nettles the other day," she pointed out.

A chuckle escaped him, soulful gaze sober. "Even that felt good to me."

Tilting her head against the dry, soft dune, both fell silent. Despite being a chatter-box, Rin also knew when to be quiet and let him talk. Her hand inched out naturally for his, and Kohaku accepted it, grasping her palm in a way that made her feel secure and safe. They'd known each other for many years so some things came as easy as breathing. Other things, like talking about it, came slowly, painfully.

"Why won't they go away?" Kohaku murmured in a hushed tone for only her to hear. "The nightmares. The memories," his gaze shook. "I just want to stop seeing it every time I look at Sango, but its there, in the back of my mind. I don't... feel right being around my nieces and nephew."

"You're still scared you'll hurt them?" there was no judgment in her tone. Assuring him that Naraku was dead and gone didn't help. Kohaku was perfectly aware of that.

The young man ducked his head, lips thin. His larger, rougher hand in hers trembled. "What if it's still there?" he whispered. "The compulsion to hurt people. I could be living my life- I could marry-" his eyes avoided hers. "Have children, but then one day I hear his voice again and the memory is too strong to resist. I could do something awful."

Dark brows pulled together, heart-squeezing in her ribcage. She wanted to help so badly. However, there was nothing she could do but keep trying to assure him and listen. "Even if you hear him, I believe in you, Kohaku," Rin stroked a thumb over his scarred knuckles. "You'd fight it. You're getting stronger all the time."

He looked exhausted, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "I'm so tired of being scared," he mumbled, glancing wearily at her. "You're still scared too, aren't you?"

Her face lost its girlish innocence, becoming firm as she sat up. "I've told you before- I'm not afraid of you, Kohaku!" she insisted hotly. "I haven't been since I was 8!"

Kohaku shifted his muscular body, and it was times like those she noticed how much larger and different he'd become. She blushed slightly but kept her expression serious.

"I wasn't talking about that," he chuckled, gaze becoming gentle. Careful fingers minded some dark hair from her face. "Your nightmares. You still have nightmares about your childhood too, right?"

Rin blinked, feeling cold and releasing his hand to wrap both arms around herself. The brush of cool night air gliding over her skin suddenly felt a little too chilly.

A soft croon rumbled out seconds before Kirara's large form settled down behind them. Lustrous buttercup coloured fur bumped against Rin's back, and she nestled against the nekomata's side gratefully.

"We don't have to discuss it if you don't want to," Kohaku said with concern, leaning back against the demon as well.

Forcing a cheery smile, Rin shook her head. "I'm fine- I've actually come up with something that helps me sleep most nights now, and I thought it might help you too."

"What is it?"

Tilting her head back to gaze at the stars above, she smiled a little more naturally. "I think of all the good things in my childhood. Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over my sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping me warm."

Kohaku stared at her with no short amount of amazement. He swallowed and looked down at the sand.

"You're strong," he breathed. "To be able to separate all the good things from the bad."

"You can do it too," grabbing his hand again, Rin inched closer with an encouraging nod. "Tell me some things you remember. Happy things."

Kohaku blushed a little at her proximity and cleared his throat, thinking. "Sango. She was always there for me."

"What else?"

His eyes seemed to haze slightly, "Father…"

"Push through it, Kohaku," she murmured. "There was a time before all the bad stuff. Was he kind?"

Kohaku blinked, firm fingers squeezing hers as he came back to himself, exhaling. He chuckled shyly, "he was a little strict, but he meant well."

Rin shifted closer, resting beside him shoulder to shoulder, knee bumping his. Kohaku rested his head back against Kirara's soft fur and began recounting things long since buried. Things he hadn't thought he could remember or appreciate anymore. The guilt was there, it always would be, but it felt further away, replaced with a bitter-sweet tang.

"Practicing, running, training, laughing, chasing yellow nekomatas," he scratched Kirara's ear. "Butterflies, bare-feet, hunting- freeing rabbits from traps because I didn't want to see them get killed. Father yelling. Father's hand gently resting on my h-head," the words stumbled. "Playing, flower gathering, flying on Kirara. The smell of the blacksmiths. Sweat. Forging weapons. Sango snoring."

Rin gasped and giggled, watching as his fingers slid through the gaps between her own.

"Warming my hands on the brazier. Talking. Listening. Stories around the campfire. Demon slayers, family," Kohaku murmured, voice thick with memories. He closed his eyes, falling silent.

"You did really well," cuddling against him, Rin pecked his cheek.

Kohaku glanced down at her, "I haven't talked about that stuff out loud before. I didn't think I could anymore."

Grinning, she put her nose in the air, imitating Jaken. "Humph well, I am rather good at talking. Getting other people to talk is my speciality ~"

Chuckling, he nudged his free hand against her forehead gently, brown eyes incredibly warm. "Can we do this again sometime? There's probably more we can remember."

Blinking, Rin gentled and squeezed his fingers, "of course we can. Anytime, Kohaku. But you know… Sango might want to hear some of this too- when you're ready," she added quickly.

His face became a touch more guarded, which broke her heart. He was so afraid of hurting Sango again. For a demon slayer, the young man was heavily weighed down by empathy.

Rin touched his freckled cheek, "Kohaku?"

He shook his head slightly and gave a smile to show he was alright. "Never mind that. How'd you get to be so brave talking about this stuff?"

Humming, she let her fingers linger, dragging down to his jaw. It looked and felt strong beneath her touch. "I probably couldn't talk about it out loud if you weren't here. You make me feel brave."

Before her fingers left his face, her hand was caught. Kohaku pushed it back to rest against his cheek, tilting his face into her palm.

"Likewise," he mumbled.

Cheeks warming, Rin felt her heart stutter and thrum wildly in her chest. It was weird. Kohaku was so incredibly dear to her. She loved being close to him, but lately, butterflies just wouldn't stop fluttering in her stomach.

Seeming to sense her confusion, Kohaku released her slack hand and gently returned it to her. He then turned to his boots and began tugging them off.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm doing as you bossily suggested earlier," standing, he gave a small smile, offering a hand down to her.

Rin accepted it, following as he walked to the shoreline. Stepping onto the wet sand, a noise of surprise and shook escaped the demon slayer as the tide rushed in.

Biting her lip, Rin tried and failed to suppress mirthful laughter. "Did you just squeal?"

"No. You're imagining things," Kohaku grinned.

The ocean lapped around their ankles, slowly receding, before sweeping a fresh wave of cool, dark water against their skin.

Kohaku gradually adjusted, looking out at the endless stretch of ocean brightened by the moon. Rin breathed in a lungful of the fresh air, slowly relaxing with him.

The tired lines beneath Kohaku's kind eyes seemed to soften, not entirely going away, but his face appeared young once more, gaining a healthy glow.

Rin held onto his hand throughout. He was the only one she felt so strangely at peace with. Lord Sesshoumaru and Kaede were protective presences, but neither really knew her, or her secrets. No one understood everything that had happened in her life, though she'd divulged some things.

She'd told Kohaku everything. When the boys at the village whispered among themselves that she was strange, a shape-shifter, a hanyou girl in disguise, Rin would smile. Because they didn't need to know or understand. Kohaku accepted her oddness, an outlier himself. Perhaps they were Hanyou children in a way.

Like Uncle Inuyasha, they didn't quite fit into human society. They were too strange. Too changed, different because of what they'd seen and experienced, never quite meshing despite their best efforts to.

But that was alright.

She'd asked Uncle Inuyasha about it once, Lord Sesshoumaru in their presence. Inuyasha had met Sesshoumaru's gaze, voice gruff.

"Well, there was no place for me, so I had to make one for myself, and then I realized, I had a place, but I was the only one in it."

Lord Sesshoumaru had seemed quiet and considering of his words.

Rin understood. Gazing at Kohaku right then, she felt he would too. The two humans who had died too young. Kohaku was part of her space, and she was in his.

Catching her eye, he smiled. Just as naturally as holding hands, he leaned down and rested their foreheads together. Rin let out a whoosh of hot air, lashes fluttering shut. The press of his head against hers felt intimate and sweet.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and shifted her head, lips inches from his, face burning. Kohaku's eyes cracked open wide, before gazing solemnly at her. He wrestled with something- and she thought he might pull away.

Kohaku then snuffed out the rest of the distance between them, lips pressing against hers in a chaste kiss.

White-hot feeling burst within the young woman like shooting stars. Butterflies turned into hummingbirds. Her lips burned.

They pulled away, both avoided each other's gazes a moment, reeling. They then caught one another's eye and slowly, shyly smiled. Because they were still the same, just a little different from before.

"Let's go back to the village," Kohaku murmured, noticing the first hues of sunlight brightening the horizon. "I think… I'll try talking to Sango."

Rin nodded, smiling with palpable relief.

He glanced at her, expression remaining vulnerable, fragile heart laid bare for her to see. Kohaku trusted her to handle it gently.

"And Rin?"

"Yes?"

He blushed slightly, squeezing her hand. "Let's come back to the beach sometime soon."

Rin's face burst into a wide grin, giggling a little breathlessly.

"I'd love to!"

---

End

#kohrin #Inuyasha #Kohaku x Rin #kohaku #Rin #inuyasha fanfiction #Fanon pairings

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